I have the workout of my life coming up soon. I have some hard decisions that I hopefully get to make. I have been through this situation three times before and I still have no idea what to expect. There are too many variables, too many possible problems and different outcomes. I mean, obviously, the final outcome will be two adorable baby boys being introduced into my world. What I am saying is that between now and that moment I can hold them in my arms for the very first time, a whole lot can and is going to happen.
Rewind almost fourteen years ago, I was twenty years old and in labor with my first born son. When I went into labor, at first, I did not know that I was in labor yet. I was at a party being thrown for my Ex and myself. Our last big Hoorah before being grounded for life. Everyone was having a good time; touch football, beer, food, friends. I sat at the picnic table outside and crocheted while chatting with the ladies. I started to feel just a little off, sort of sick to my stomach with a little lower back ache. No big deal, I could just go inside and lay on the couch for a bit. I was fine. Hmm.
Lucky for me, the friend who was throwing us the party has a mother who was an RN. When she came in to replenish the party food, she saw me laying there in her living room and started in with the questions. She then quickly got her mother on the phone who suggested I get to the hospital as soon as possible because I was obviously in labor. Also, we were partying in Buffalo, MN and our hospital of choice was in Fridley, MN. A little bit of a drive. I was two weeks away from my due date and caught off guard. Needless to say, we were on the road within minutes, shortly after 7 PM. Around forty five minutes later we arrived at the hospital. My Mom had arrived too, my rock. The doctor quickly determined that my stubborn son was in a breech position, sitting cross-legged over the exit, so to speak, and my contractions were coming much faster and harder. They were going to have to do an emergency C-section but I had eaten dinner at the party only a couple hours earlier so they wanted to hold off as long as possible. You are not supposed to eat for twelve hours before major surgery with anesthesia because of the increased risk of vomiting and then choking on it. Glamorous.
Just before midnight, they could not wait any longer for the sake of the baby and I was rushed to the operating room. Bright lights, people in masks everywhere, stainless steel glinting, big blue curtain thrown up in front of my face to block the view, completely numb from the shoulders down, throwing up into a little plastic tub, the Father of my child staying close but with fear in his eyes, constant commotion...and then...the baby cries out. Sweet relief, but only momentarily. He is quickly held up to my face for a look-see. Then he is just as quickly taken away for a bit while I get stitched, stapled, cleaned up, poked and prodded, sick a little more and, of course, Morphined. I had told his father to go be with him, I would be fine. The baby needed one of us there.
Once we were back in our room it was much more calm and quiet. Thank goodness. Family trickled in through the wee hours to see the first grandchild/nephew. It was very nice and we were so proud and in love with our new bundle. Everything was great, everything except for the itching. Oh my God, the itching! I could literally have scratched my face off. Hold my hands down and tell me to stop scratching. But it itches so much!...I learned that I was allergic to Morphine that night. Good to know.
In the weeks to come, my incision became infected and I had to be put on antibiotics. Kind of a scary thing though; sitting in bed, reading a book, minding my own business and then I look down and see blood spreading on the front of my shirt by my abdomen. It all worked out OK in the end but I was freaked out for a bit. I had a few anxiety dreams after that of my insides falling out and I could not get them back in for the life of me. Shudder.
That was my first time. My second was quite a different experience. I was twenty two years old and now had a twenty month old son. I woke up at 7:00 in the morning, as usual. I knew immediately, this time, that I was in labor. My sons' Father was at work already and I proceeded to wake up my toddler and get him ready for daycare. I called in to my work and explained that I was having my baby today so I, of course, would not be in that day. I was very calm and not scared at all. This felt right. The contractions were normal and spaced out nicely, not too painful yet. I packed up my son into the car and drove him to daycare. I called my Ex from there and told him to meet me at the hospital, this was it. The daycare lady thought I was a little strange for driving myself but I assured her that I was just fine.
I arrived at the hospital at around 8:30 AM. Their Father and my Super Mom were close behind. All was normal. I hung out in the room, sipped on broth, rocked in a chair and watched reruns of The Cosby Show. Once my labor became more active, I agreed to some pain medication. I think it was something that started with an N, although I do not remember for sure. It burned like crazy going up my arm and into my blood stream. Within minutes I was knocked out cold and drooling on my pillow like some kind of zombie. I woke up during the stronger contractions and then fell right back into unconscious sleep. This was not really the experience I had had in mind. The majority of my day was lost to me. Later on in the evening I came to and gave birth to my second beautiful son. I had an epidural and was able to deliver him by Vbac, vaginal birth after cesarean. He was born around 7:30 at night, about a twelve hour event. Not bad, time wise, I just wish I had been conscious for more of it. Oh well. Should of, would of, could of.
The day I gave birth to my daughter in 2009, another Vbac delivery, everything went perfectly. At around 9:00 AM I knew that I was in labor. Slow and steady. I was having small contractions every twenty minutes all throughout the day. It was New Year's Eve and we had no big plans, no reason to rush. I took a long relaxing bath and braided my hair. I painted my nails nice and did my make-up, nothing fancy, just enough to make me feel pretty. I sat in the recliner for most of the day and rocked slowly. I watched Romancing the Stone and reminisced of the night my husband and I had our first kiss while watching the same movie years before. Nostalgic. My husband was supposed to be at work by 4:00 PM. My contractions were not any closer or stronger yet so I assured him I was fine and let him go. My sons were home with me and plenty old enough to call someone in case of emergency, but I felt just fine anyway. At about 4:45 PM I had some quick changes in my contraction intensity and proximity and realized it was time to get up and get to the hospital. I calmly told my sons that they needed to go brush their teeth and pack a bag of entertainment because it was time for us to go to the hospital. They were surprised and stared at me for a moment, then they realized that I was serious and they got excited and ran upstairs. They did not take very long. I, meanwhile, warmed up the car. We were having a record cold winter and this night was no exception. I called my husband and told him to meet us at the hospital, too bad he drove all the way to work for nothing. I could feel his excitement through the phone. I then called my Mom and told her to meet us at the hospital too. By 5:30 PM, we were all set, the boys were in the waiting room with other excited family members. I elected to have another epidural but absolutely none of the other drugs. I would not miss any of this birth. I wanted to be awake. I wanted to remember. And I do.
She was born at 9:30 PM. Nice and short delivery. No complications. Everything went smoothly. There was a Blue Moon hanging in the sky that night. I will never forget the moment my sons came in to meet their baby sister. The love in their eyes was indescribable. The were practically vibrating from the love and excitement radiating from their bodies. Melted my heart.
In the next six to nine weeks I will be back in the hospital doing it all over again. I do not want a cesarean birth again. The time it takes to heal and all the restrictions to follow are not as easy once you have more children to take care of. I do not want to be out of commission for that long. I also know that I may not have a choice. At my last appointment the babies were both head up, or in breech position. The doctor assured me that there is still plenty of time for two busy babies to flip over and face head down. I know he is right but I can't help thinking about how little space that they have compared to a baby in there all alone. Only time will tell.
My doctor mentioned that with twin pregnancies they usually schedule the cesarean delivery for 38 weeks, two weeks before the regular anticipated delivery date. At first this made sense to me but the more that I think about it, the more I don't like it, deep down in my gut. I have done some research and came across a documentary called The Business of Being Born made by Ricki Lake a few year ago. It was very eye opening and it really got me thinking about my wants and wishes compared to the motives and rules of modern medicine, hospitals, insurance companies, etc. I know in my heart that I do not want to be cut open again if I do not have to be. I need to have a long talk with my doctor at my next appointment.
This will be my last birthing experience. I am older, stronger and wiser. I will not endanger the babies but I will also not be pushed into something I do not want to do. There is a part of me that feels like I may be able to handle giving birth naturally without any drugs or interventions. I have not decided this for sure but it is rolling around in my brain at the moment. If the babies are breech and I have to have a c-section, so be it. I get it and their safety comes first. I do not want to schedule it at 38 weeks though. I want the babies to stay inside me as long as possible. The longer they stay in, the healthier and more ready for the world they will be. The longer they stay in, the better their chances are of flipping head down and allowing a vaginal birth. Sure, it might suck for me physically, but that is not the point. A couple more stretch marks, big deal. A couple more weeks of swollen ankles and restless nights, so what. Worth it if it is for them.
My husband is not so sure about the "no intervention" child birth experience and I understand why. It has to be so hard to stand by while someone you love is in pain and there is nothing you can do to make them feel better. Maybe that person actually yells out and says stupid or mean things to you unintentionally while you stand by and try to be supportive and helpful. Were I looking in from his side, I can kind of see it. I still think I might be strong enough, given the chance. This is my last opportunity to try. I feel that if I am so lucky that both babies flip over head down and there are no other unforeseen complications, that will be my sign. That will be my sign that I should go ahead and give natural child birth a shot. The chance to make this special and unique. A chance to prove to myself that I am strong and I can make it, stay awake for it and see it through in a completely different way. A way that used to be the only way. The only way for thousands of years before my time on this earth. I will be in a safe place. Should any complications arise, I will be in expert hands. I may even chicken out and beg for the epidural in the end. I just don't want the choice taken away from me. I want to be in the driver's seat. I want the chance to decide. This will be a memorable experience no matter the outcome. I am not scared. I am almost there. I have my amazing husband and my Mom at my side. I think I can do this.
*** The sequel to this post about the birth experience of my twins is here: I Pushed & They Shoved
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Waiting Patiently
Thank you all for waiting so patiently for me to get back into the swing of things. I have also been waiting patiently, as that is all I can do at this point. I am now 28 weeks into my pregnancy with fraternal twin bouncing baby boys. The proverbial dust has settled since our shocking and life altering discovery of their existence in my practiced womb. Our three children are on board and excited for new siblings to arrive. The entire family that surrounds us have been so supportive and it feels like we have our own personal cheering section. We are ready...as ready as we can expect to be at his point.
I have the basic necessities. Diapers, clothes, blankets, etc. I am not stressing to have all the superfluous items at this point. I am in no condition to be stressed out. I have been down this familiar road before and now know what I will need immediately and what kind of things that can just wait. For example, I have two cribs, two swings, two activity bouncers and another high chair available to me but I have decided not to worry myself with getting these things home and set up yet. I realize that the babies will be quite small and that my play pen and breasts will suffice until I am ready. When the babies come home, I realize I am going to have nothing but time to set up my nest. I have no reason to hurry this process. This will be my last dance with newborns of my own body and I am going to relax and absorb the whole experience. I am going to enjoy it.
Changes are lurking around every corner for us. We have a lot on our plate and are staying focused on some goals. We already handled the car-is-too-small-for-a-family-of-seven problem. I traded in my Aztek for a Yukon and we are extremely happy with this decision so far. I was determined not to drive a mini van. I know that there are many of them out there and to each their own but I am just so not "that girl". I am still a wanna-be rock star at heart and a mini van would cramp my style. Ha!
Our house is quite old and in the current market we know that we could not sell it as fast as we need to or for nearly as much as we would want to. We are in the middle of a refinance instead with the hopes of keeping and renting our home so we can move on to a bigger and better one. Three bedrooms won't cut it for long with five kids. We have always been interested in owning rental property and this may be our first chance. Unfortunately, we are on quite a time crunch and I am waiting patiently for the results of the refinance. My last day at work is at the end of September, as long as the babies stay put. In order for this whole plan to work out we need both our incomes to qualify for a second mortgage. If it doesn't work out we will, of course, remain in our current abode, it will just be a tight fit. Plenty of families live with as little or less and we will be fine if it comes to that. For our plan to work we just need to find a house, make an offer, get it accepted and then close on the new house within the next nine weeks or so. What? It could happen, right? I am staying positive and on track. It is all I can do.
I recently gave my notice at my job. I will not be returning to work after my maternity leave. I have given up my career for an indefinite length of time to stay home with the children. Lucky for us, my husband graduated last December and found a great job just minutes from our home. We could not be happier with his choice of employer and it could not have come at a better time for us as a family. Without the cost of daycare any longer, we will survive. We do not live extravagantly and are very practical people. We have lots of love and each other. We are aware that it will be hard at times but it will all turn out okay and we will only grow closer from the experience. This will be our next chapter.
Summer is fast coming to a close and we have a child beginning High School this September. We just finished with our sons' baseball seasons a few weeks ago and Fall baseball is beginning in less than three weeks. August will be full of preparations for school, buying supplies, going through the kids clothes, orientations, summer camp and more. It has been the hottest summer in recorded world history and I get to be pregnant for it. Something for the babies to hear about and enjoy, at my expense. Completely worth it, though. In a month we will be back into the routine of homework, baseball practice and games, band events, other extracurricular activities the kids throw at me, volunteering for the school as I can and then, you know, giving birth and all that. Nothing I can't handle. As long as I can stay off bed rest.
I have the basic necessities. Diapers, clothes, blankets, etc. I am not stressing to have all the superfluous items at this point. I am in no condition to be stressed out. I have been down this familiar road before and now know what I will need immediately and what kind of things that can just wait. For example, I have two cribs, two swings, two activity bouncers and another high chair available to me but I have decided not to worry myself with getting these things home and set up yet. I realize that the babies will be quite small and that my play pen and breasts will suffice until I am ready. When the babies come home, I realize I am going to have nothing but time to set up my nest. I have no reason to hurry this process. This will be my last dance with newborns of my own body and I am going to relax and absorb the whole experience. I am going to enjoy it.
Changes are lurking around every corner for us. We have a lot on our plate and are staying focused on some goals. We already handled the car-is-too-small-for-a-family-of-seven problem. I traded in my Aztek for a Yukon and we are extremely happy with this decision so far. I was determined not to drive a mini van. I know that there are many of them out there and to each their own but I am just so not "that girl". I am still a wanna-be rock star at heart and a mini van would cramp my style. Ha!
Our house is quite old and in the current market we know that we could not sell it as fast as we need to or for nearly as much as we would want to. We are in the middle of a refinance instead with the hopes of keeping and renting our home so we can move on to a bigger and better one. Three bedrooms won't cut it for long with five kids. We have always been interested in owning rental property and this may be our first chance. Unfortunately, we are on quite a time crunch and I am waiting patiently for the results of the refinance. My last day at work is at the end of September, as long as the babies stay put. In order for this whole plan to work out we need both our incomes to qualify for a second mortgage. If it doesn't work out we will, of course, remain in our current abode, it will just be a tight fit. Plenty of families live with as little or less and we will be fine if it comes to that. For our plan to work we just need to find a house, make an offer, get it accepted and then close on the new house within the next nine weeks or so. What? It could happen, right? I am staying positive and on track. It is all I can do.
I recently gave my notice at my job. I will not be returning to work after my maternity leave. I have given up my career for an indefinite length of time to stay home with the children. Lucky for us, my husband graduated last December and found a great job just minutes from our home. We could not be happier with his choice of employer and it could not have come at a better time for us as a family. Without the cost of daycare any longer, we will survive. We do not live extravagantly and are very practical people. We have lots of love and each other. We are aware that it will be hard at times but it will all turn out okay and we will only grow closer from the experience. This will be our next chapter.
Summer is fast coming to a close and we have a child beginning High School this September. We just finished with our sons' baseball seasons a few weeks ago and Fall baseball is beginning in less than three weeks. August will be full of preparations for school, buying supplies, going through the kids clothes, orientations, summer camp and more. It has been the hottest summer in recorded world history and I get to be pregnant for it. Something for the babies to hear about and enjoy, at my expense. Completely worth it, though. In a month we will be back into the routine of homework, baseball practice and games, band events, other extracurricular activities the kids throw at me, volunteering for the school as I can and then, you know, giving birth and all that. Nothing I can't handle. As long as I can stay off bed rest.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
The Clouds Begin to Part
After my doctor's appointment yesterday morning I am feeling a whole lot better, mentally that is. The heavy gray clouds that have been floating above my head like Eeyore's for the last thirteen weeks are finally dissipating. Some people very dear to me have been worried about me and I am sorry for that. Others seem to think that I was/am not happy that I am pregnant. This is truly not the case. I am very happy to be pregnant one last time. My husband and I planned to do this together one last time. I have just been extremely afraid and on edge lately. I tried not to let it show but apparently I sucked at my attempt. Oops.
When I was pregnant with my three previous children I was happy the whole time. Of course there was the feeling sick times and the feeling tired times, but all around I was quite happy. Last fall I became pregnant and was so very happy. My last baby was on it's way. I found out on a Thursday morning in November and was, as usual, instantly in love. It is almost indescribable how quickly I fall in love. Two days later, on a Saturday night, I miscarried. I had only known about the baby for two short days but it hurt me deep down to lose it just the same. I try to keep my experience in perspective. I know that my measly two days are nothing compared to the experiences other mothers have had to endure. I did not realize how much it had hurt me until February when I became pregnant again, with my amazing, yet shocking, twins. Not only am I at a little higher risk of complications due to being blessed with twins but I now had this little dark cloud in my mind about the very realistic possibility of it all coming to an abrupt end.
Since February I have felt scared to become to attached to them. I have been hesitant to think to far into the future with them for fear of losing them. It was not quite as fun to think of names yet. I was made to wait six weeks between appointments this last time because I am doing just fine medically. Six weeks was far too long for my constant worrying brain. From weeks ten through weeks sixteen of the pregnancy we were still in a big danger zone. Miscarriage is more likely in the first trimester and Vanishing Twin Syndrome is not that uncommon up to around week twelve, something I came to find out after much research on my part. By week sixteen it is very normal not to really feel the babies move much yet. All of these facts were sitting right smack dab in the middle of my head. It has truly been a long six weeks for me. And I was already tired, to boot.
Yesterday morning, my husband and I went to my sixteen week appointment. Since I am having twins, my wonderful Doctor likes to do an ultrasound to check the babies heartbeats in order to tell them apart easier, which means I get to see them every time I go in. Yesterday, the moment I saw the first beautiful thing on the screen, it gave a little wiggle and brought a tear to my eye. Very quickly, the Doctor moved onto the next sweet little being and I saw that one wiggle too. A huge weight was immediately lifted from my weary shoulders. They are still in there and they are just fine. They are alive and kicking, literally. I will begin to feel their tiny ninja moves very soon. They are truly breath taking and they are all mine. Sigh of relief. Ahh.
Last night I was able to sit down and really write down a list of possible baby names, which is always super fun for me. I feel like I slept a little more sound. I am feeling so much more relaxed and am jonesing to garage sale like a crazy person, tee hee. I know that things can still go wrong because I am realistic. It is possible I could have pre-term labor, complications of all different kinds and even get stuck on bed rest while trying to raise three great kids at the same time. I just feel a whole lot better about the whole situation and am thinking positive thoughts. I feel happy and content. I am still tired, which is to be expected, and my appetite is finally starting to appear full throttle. I know it is going to be a long, hot and busy summer...but I am actually looking forward to it.
When I was pregnant with my three previous children I was happy the whole time. Of course there was the feeling sick times and the feeling tired times, but all around I was quite happy. Last fall I became pregnant and was so very happy. My last baby was on it's way. I found out on a Thursday morning in November and was, as usual, instantly in love. It is almost indescribable how quickly I fall in love. Two days later, on a Saturday night, I miscarried. I had only known about the baby for two short days but it hurt me deep down to lose it just the same. I try to keep my experience in perspective. I know that my measly two days are nothing compared to the experiences other mothers have had to endure. I did not realize how much it had hurt me until February when I became pregnant again, with my amazing, yet shocking, twins. Not only am I at a little higher risk of complications due to being blessed with twins but I now had this little dark cloud in my mind about the very realistic possibility of it all coming to an abrupt end.
Since February I have felt scared to become to attached to them. I have been hesitant to think to far into the future with them for fear of losing them. It was not quite as fun to think of names yet. I was made to wait six weeks between appointments this last time because I am doing just fine medically. Six weeks was far too long for my constant worrying brain. From weeks ten through weeks sixteen of the pregnancy we were still in a big danger zone. Miscarriage is more likely in the first trimester and Vanishing Twin Syndrome is not that uncommon up to around week twelve, something I came to find out after much research on my part. By week sixteen it is very normal not to really feel the babies move much yet. All of these facts were sitting right smack dab in the middle of my head. It has truly been a long six weeks for me. And I was already tired, to boot.
Yesterday morning, my husband and I went to my sixteen week appointment. Since I am having twins, my wonderful Doctor likes to do an ultrasound to check the babies heartbeats in order to tell them apart easier, which means I get to see them every time I go in. Yesterday, the moment I saw the first beautiful thing on the screen, it gave a little wiggle and brought a tear to my eye. Very quickly, the Doctor moved onto the next sweet little being and I saw that one wiggle too. A huge weight was immediately lifted from my weary shoulders. They are still in there and they are just fine. They are alive and kicking, literally. I will begin to feel their tiny ninja moves very soon. They are truly breath taking and they are all mine. Sigh of relief. Ahh.
Last night I was able to sit down and really write down a list of possible baby names, which is always super fun for me. I feel like I slept a little more sound. I am feeling so much more relaxed and am jonesing to garage sale like a crazy person, tee hee. I know that things can still go wrong because I am realistic. It is possible I could have pre-term labor, complications of all different kinds and even get stuck on bed rest while trying to raise three great kids at the same time. I just feel a whole lot better about the whole situation and am thinking positive thoughts. I feel happy and content. I am still tired, which is to be expected, and my appetite is finally starting to appear full throttle. I know it is going to be a long, hot and busy summer...but I am actually looking forward to it.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Two Sick & Two Tired
No, I did not drop off the face of the planet. No, I did not give up on my blog. I did, however, recently have my world rocked and needed some time to process and recuperate. What's the big deal, you ask? I am pregnant. This is good news. Great news, in fact. My husband and I decided to leave it up to fate and see if one more child was in the cards for us. Come to find out that fate actually wanted us to have two more babies. Yup. You heard me right, it is twins! I was in complete shock. At moments, here and there, I actually still am.
Looking back I feel quite naive that the possibility of having twins never once crossed my mind. There are no twins on either side of our families, as far back as we know. But when you think about straight odds, I should have thought of it. I am thirty four. I have five brothers and between the six of us we already have ten kids. It was bound to happen to one of us eventually. Fate picked me.
I am a planner. I have become more organized. I am proud of how far I have come over the last ten years. There are no late bill payments, no late papers. I have our medical, personal, educational, financial and social affairs in order. I planned for one more baby. I was whole-heartedly ready for one last baby. Fate does not seem to care for my plans. Fate must think I had things a little too figured out.
Things have changed. I need a bigger car and a bigger house. These are things I already wanted but was in no hurry to acquire them. There is a possibility I will need to quit my job and be a stay-at-home-Mom for a while. This would be a blessing. A way to bond with my children that was never an option in my life before. The mentally difficult part of this for me is that I just spent the last four years of my life working my hardest towards a specific career goal. My efforts were beginning to pay off and changes were slowly in the works. Having one more baby would not have changed this path for me. Two more babies truly does.
I have had six weeks to process all of this information. I have been a wreck on so many different levels. This pregnancy has already been so different from my previous ones. I am extremely nautious and more tired than I have felt in my whole life. Hibernation sounds quite wonderful right now. My emotions are completely out of control. There have been episodes of depression and self-loathing. There is no libido to speak of. Some women feel more beautiful and excitable when the are pregnant. I have heard tales of glowing skin and hair and nails that grow in perfection. Not me. I actually feel extra hideous, gross, bloated and lame. I break out, which I almost never have a problem with when I am not pregnant. I am too hot, uncomfortable and irritable. I can't believe my husband was willing to do this with me again. I am truly grateful for my husband. He is a saint to sit by my side while I struggle with my body and my brain. My poor neglected husband. I am so lucky to have him.
And I now know that I am lucky to be having twins. I love babies. They are precious and smell like purity. I am very good with kids. Being a mother is my favorite. I have an amazing partner-in-crime and we have plenty of love to go around. I would be lying if I said I wasn't still a little bit scared. I am realistic. We are not out of the woods yet. October is still a ways away, but I have high hopes and I am excited. I have a large and supportive family. We will be okay. Even without my perfect plans.
Looking back I feel quite naive that the possibility of having twins never once crossed my mind. There are no twins on either side of our families, as far back as we know. But when you think about straight odds, I should have thought of it. I am thirty four. I have five brothers and between the six of us we already have ten kids. It was bound to happen to one of us eventually. Fate picked me.
I am a planner. I have become more organized. I am proud of how far I have come over the last ten years. There are no late bill payments, no late papers. I have our medical, personal, educational, financial and social affairs in order. I planned for one more baby. I was whole-heartedly ready for one last baby. Fate does not seem to care for my plans. Fate must think I had things a little too figured out.
Things have changed. I need a bigger car and a bigger house. These are things I already wanted but was in no hurry to acquire them. There is a possibility I will need to quit my job and be a stay-at-home-Mom for a while. This would be a blessing. A way to bond with my children that was never an option in my life before. The mentally difficult part of this for me is that I just spent the last four years of my life working my hardest towards a specific career goal. My efforts were beginning to pay off and changes were slowly in the works. Having one more baby would not have changed this path for me. Two more babies truly does.
I have had six weeks to process all of this information. I have been a wreck on so many different levels. This pregnancy has already been so different from my previous ones. I am extremely nautious and more tired than I have felt in my whole life. Hibernation sounds quite wonderful right now. My emotions are completely out of control. There have been episodes of depression and self-loathing. There is no libido to speak of. Some women feel more beautiful and excitable when the are pregnant. I have heard tales of glowing skin and hair and nails that grow in perfection. Not me. I actually feel extra hideous, gross, bloated and lame. I break out, which I almost never have a problem with when I am not pregnant. I am too hot, uncomfortable and irritable. I can't believe my husband was willing to do this with me again. I am truly grateful for my husband. He is a saint to sit by my side while I struggle with my body and my brain. My poor neglected husband. I am so lucky to have him.
And I now know that I am lucky to be having twins. I love babies. They are precious and smell like purity. I am very good with kids. Being a mother is my favorite. I have an amazing partner-in-crime and we have plenty of love to go around. I would be lying if I said I wasn't still a little bit scared. I am realistic. We are not out of the woods yet. October is still a ways away, but I have high hopes and I am excited. I have a large and supportive family. We will be okay. Even without my perfect plans.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Little Lies and Butterflies
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| Image from: http://61mg.com/images-of-butterflies.html |
When my beautiful, tiny, two year old daughter spilled a little lie from her previously assumed innocent lips, I was in complete shock. Where and how do they learn how to fib so early? My first thought was that it couldn't have been from me because I do not lie to her; she must have learned how to at daycare or from the television or from any other number of influences. Then, about ten seconds later, I realized, nope, she probably did learn how to lie from me. I don't intentionally lie to her but most of us, as parents, do it all of the time just the same. Have you heard of a guy named Santa Claus or maybe the big furry Easter Bunny? Technically...lies. Or, have you ever said something so simple as, "Sorry Honey, the goldfish crackers are all gone. You will have to wait until dinner is ready for more food." Lie! There is almost always more goldfish crackers. We tell lies. Not about the big things but definitely about the little white things.
Back to her lie, I was in the kitchen with her while I was making dinner, peeling carrots over the garbage can. She held her little toddler hand out in the space between the carrot and the garbage can and asked, "Can I hold it, Mommy?" I replied, "No, Sweetie, I don't want you to get an owie on your finger and I'm cooking dinner." She looked up at me for a moment and then quickly turned and ran off into the living room shouting, "Daddy, Daddy!" I peeked around the wall to see what she was going to do. She ran straight into her Daddy's arms and said, "Daddy, Mommy hurt me." accompanied by a little bit of fake crying and all. Now, my husband knows that I would not hurt her and was intrigued by her statement so he asked her, "Oh, really? What did Mommy do?" Without hesitation she proceeded to tell him that I had shut her hand in the garbage can and even tried to get him to kiss it and make it all better. Really? She is two. So, Daddy walks her into the kitchen where we are all three together and we ask her again about what happened and she puts her sad face on, places her supposedly injured hand on her lower back and says, "Mommy hurt my back." What? Again, she's two.
Needless to say, we had to have a two year old version of the whole You-Shouldn't-Tell-Lies speech. We also now know that we have to watch this one just a little more closely. It does make me wonder what else she has told me that may not be entirely true. Ha!
She is so young. I know this is not a serious issue at the moment, but a curious one. I want to gently teach her about being truthful without squashing her beautiful imagination. She has such an amazing imagination. I love to hear what she comes up with. When I am giving her a bath I tell her to, "Look way up high, in the sky, so you don't get soap in your eyes." While she is looking up I ask her questions about what she sees in order to keep her distracted and looking up while I rinse the shampoo from her blonde hair. She tells me all about the butterflies and the birds, what colors they are and how many she sees. Some days it is big balloons and others it is airplanes and helicopters. I love it!
And there. Right there is the invisible line between little lies and imagination. I want her to tell me wild stories and invent things. I want her to see the big blue butterflies that magically appear from out of nowhere in the bathroom when she's in the tub. I want her to keep feeding me pretend tea and ham soup that appears to be on tap in her toy kitchen, in an endless supply, at that. It will just be another lesson for me. How to teach her when we need to be truthful and when is it okay to fib. And, most importantly, to never lose her imagination.
** If you enjoyed this post, here is another you might like, too: http://ginnylouden.blogspot.com/2011/12/say-youre-sorry_14.html
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Nature vs. Nurture
I have heard this comparison for as long as I can remember. It has always made perfect sense to me. There are naturally occurring parts of our personalities and our physical traits and then there are the things in and about us that change over time due to our all encompassing environment. Not only have I lived through it myself in my own upbringing, but I have it in my mind while I parent my own children. I am a firm believer that all children are born with their very specific personality. It is up to us, as parents, to recognize all the complicated parts of their individual personality. Our job is to nurture them, guide them and help them grow with their personality and be able to function with them during their lives, not to change them.
I grew up with two mothers. In order to keep this less confusing for you while I write, I will call one Mother and one Mom. My Mother gave birth to me and raised me until I was three years old. My Mom married my Father when I was three years old and they had custody of and raised me and my brothers. My Mom had two sons who were older than me. I also have two little brothers from my Mother and Father. Later, my Mom and Father gave me one more little brother. Five brother in all. The six of us all had very distinct and different personalities, most of which have stayed true to present day. Reflecting on our growing up years and raising three children of my own has given me an even deeper respect for my parents. Sometimes it boggles my mind to think of how they did it all. I was very lucky.
I am like my Mother. I physically look like her. I have her legs and feet, her closed mouth smile. I chew like her, laugh like her and move my pursed lips side to side like her while I am thinking hard. I was blessed with her beautiful singing voice and creative and crafty skills. Sometimes, when I talk, I even sound like her, especially if I slip into a little southern drawl. I love being a mother and would do almost anything for my children. My pure, raw thoughts and emotions are very similar to hers. I can not explain this one very well, but knowing her as long as I did and reading some of her letters and journals, I know I am right on. I even remember one time when I was around eighteen years old we decided to arm wrestle. We actually ended it at a deadlock, neither of us could budge the other. Similar strength.
I was not raised by my Mother. When I was three I went to live with my Father and Mom. After this, I saw my Mother during the summer breaks while in school and over a holiday here and there. She lived thirteen hundred miles away and we were still so much alike. Nature.
I am also like my Mom. I am confident and strong, opinionated and thoughtful. I have a very strong pull towards my family and keeping all of us together. I am extremely organized and have a very strong work ethic. I know what I want and I will usually go for it, as long as it is fairly reasonable. I love music, it can move me very deeply. I physically carry myself the same way and we are often complimented on how much we look alike. We have learned to just nod, smile and say "Thank you." When I am in pain, physically, mentally or any other way it comes, you may not even know it unless you ask the right questions. I try not to burden others with my own issues, although, I am learning to try. I absolutely adore being a mother and would do anything for my children.
My Mom did not give birth to me yet our similarities rival those between my Mother and I. I was able to see my Mom nearly everyday and it shows in my everyday life, even now. I am grateful to have had her raise me. I would not be the same person I am now if she had not been my Mom from such a young age. I love my Mother dearly, but I do know there were some weaknesses in her personality that I would have absorbed too deeply into myself. I mean no disrespect to my Mother, please do not misunderstand. All I mean is that if she had raised me we would have been exactly alike. I will not get into all of the details of her life but I can say that she had many very meaningful struggles for so many different reasons throughout her life and my similar personality tendencies would have brought me in the same directions. Being raised by my Mom allowed me to keep some of my Mother's traits while being slightly overpowered by some stronger traits. I am forever grateful. Nurture.
Living through all of this personally has made me a better mother to my own children, in my opinion. I was blessed with two sons who could not be more opposite than the other. I have called them my salt and pepper babies. My oldest has brown hair and eyes and naturally tan skin that he inherited from his father. My eleven year old has red hair and hazel eyes along with my very fair skin and a few freckles. One got my crooked teeth and one got their father's straight teeth. One got my poor vision and the other got 20/20. The personalities they were born with are completely opposite, too. One is athletic, eager to please, sensitive, temperamental, lovingly kind and not afraid of a little hard work. The other is creative and imaginative, very sharing, argumentative, stubborn, walks to his own beat and is a little afraid of hard work. They are both amazing individuals and I am proud to know them. I am lucky to be a part of their lives and guide them every day.
How do I do this? Carefully. The athlete is allowed to be one as long as his grades stay up and the sport remains fun. The imaginative one is encouraged and complimented when he creates something new. The temperamental one is made to take a step back, take a deep breath and think about the current situation. The argumentative one is made to pause, maybe apologize and be a bit more respectful. I am actually encouraging him to try out for the debate team when he gets to a grade level that offers it. There is a time and place for arguing and it is not always a bad thing, it just needs to be channelled in the proper direction. There are so many pieces to each of them. I do not want to stifle or change them. My goal is to teach them to grow with, accept and use the natural talents they were each born with. I have to be extremely patient. I think I am. None of this is something I feel you can be taught. I worry at times that I may be doing some of these things wrong. I honestly make a lot of this up as I go. I use my instincts, my gut feelings. I have to do things a little bit different for each of them while still trying to remain fair. I can only try to do the best I can and stay true to myself.
I grew up with two mothers. In order to keep this less confusing for you while I write, I will call one Mother and one Mom. My Mother gave birth to me and raised me until I was three years old. My Mom married my Father when I was three years old and they had custody of and raised me and my brothers. My Mom had two sons who were older than me. I also have two little brothers from my Mother and Father. Later, my Mom and Father gave me one more little brother. Five brother in all. The six of us all had very distinct and different personalities, most of which have stayed true to present day. Reflecting on our growing up years and raising three children of my own has given me an even deeper respect for my parents. Sometimes it boggles my mind to think of how they did it all. I was very lucky.
I am like my Mother. I physically look like her. I have her legs and feet, her closed mouth smile. I chew like her, laugh like her and move my pursed lips side to side like her while I am thinking hard. I was blessed with her beautiful singing voice and creative and crafty skills. Sometimes, when I talk, I even sound like her, especially if I slip into a little southern drawl. I love being a mother and would do almost anything for my children. My pure, raw thoughts and emotions are very similar to hers. I can not explain this one very well, but knowing her as long as I did and reading some of her letters and journals, I know I am right on. I even remember one time when I was around eighteen years old we decided to arm wrestle. We actually ended it at a deadlock, neither of us could budge the other. Similar strength.
I was not raised by my Mother. When I was three I went to live with my Father and Mom. After this, I saw my Mother during the summer breaks while in school and over a holiday here and there. She lived thirteen hundred miles away and we were still so much alike. Nature.
I am also like my Mom. I am confident and strong, opinionated and thoughtful. I have a very strong pull towards my family and keeping all of us together. I am extremely organized and have a very strong work ethic. I know what I want and I will usually go for it, as long as it is fairly reasonable. I love music, it can move me very deeply. I physically carry myself the same way and we are often complimented on how much we look alike. We have learned to just nod, smile and say "Thank you." When I am in pain, physically, mentally or any other way it comes, you may not even know it unless you ask the right questions. I try not to burden others with my own issues, although, I am learning to try. I absolutely adore being a mother and would do anything for my children.
My Mom did not give birth to me yet our similarities rival those between my Mother and I. I was able to see my Mom nearly everyday and it shows in my everyday life, even now. I am grateful to have had her raise me. I would not be the same person I am now if she had not been my Mom from such a young age. I love my Mother dearly, but I do know there were some weaknesses in her personality that I would have absorbed too deeply into myself. I mean no disrespect to my Mother, please do not misunderstand. All I mean is that if she had raised me we would have been exactly alike. I will not get into all of the details of her life but I can say that she had many very meaningful struggles for so many different reasons throughout her life and my similar personality tendencies would have brought me in the same directions. Being raised by my Mom allowed me to keep some of my Mother's traits while being slightly overpowered by some stronger traits. I am forever grateful. Nurture.
Living through all of this personally has made me a better mother to my own children, in my opinion. I was blessed with two sons who could not be more opposite than the other. I have called them my salt and pepper babies. My oldest has brown hair and eyes and naturally tan skin that he inherited from his father. My eleven year old has red hair and hazel eyes along with my very fair skin and a few freckles. One got my crooked teeth and one got their father's straight teeth. One got my poor vision and the other got 20/20. The personalities they were born with are completely opposite, too. One is athletic, eager to please, sensitive, temperamental, lovingly kind and not afraid of a little hard work. The other is creative and imaginative, very sharing, argumentative, stubborn, walks to his own beat and is a little afraid of hard work. They are both amazing individuals and I am proud to know them. I am lucky to be a part of their lives and guide them every day.
How do I do this? Carefully. The athlete is allowed to be one as long as his grades stay up and the sport remains fun. The imaginative one is encouraged and complimented when he creates something new. The temperamental one is made to take a step back, take a deep breath and think about the current situation. The argumentative one is made to pause, maybe apologize and be a bit more respectful. I am actually encouraging him to try out for the debate team when he gets to a grade level that offers it. There is a time and place for arguing and it is not always a bad thing, it just needs to be channelled in the proper direction. There are so many pieces to each of them. I do not want to stifle or change them. My goal is to teach them to grow with, accept and use the natural talents they were each born with. I have to be extremely patient. I think I am. None of this is something I feel you can be taught. I worry at times that I may be doing some of these things wrong. I honestly make a lot of this up as I go. I use my instincts, my gut feelings. I have to do things a little bit different for each of them while still trying to remain fair. I can only try to do the best I can and stay true to myself.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Head Over Heels
In March it will have been ten years since the man of my dreams walked into my life and flipped my world upside down. The day I met him is the only time I remember ever being truly speechless. I was not expecting him. I was not ready for him. I was definitely not looking for him. Yet he found me all the same. I am so glad he did.
I was so unhappy. I had given up on my own happiness. I will not go in to the nitty-gritty details of my problems back then because I love my sons and I respect their relationship with their father. I will say that I was holding on for the sake of my two children no matter what it cost me mentally, physically and socially. I had recently started a new job and went back to school. I would go to work during the day and go straight home to the kids when I was done. I did not attempt to build new relationships with my coworkers at first. Over a few months I began to make new friends and become more involved. It was nice to have peers again. I started to believe I was worth something. I was getting my long lost confidence back. It still was not enough of a push.
Then one day in March of 2002, while I was working and minding my own business, my coworker pointed behind me and said, "Look, there's the new guy." I turned around and I couldn't speak. I actually turned a little red in the face. There was an amazing guy walking right by me to go fill out his new hire paperwork. I stood there like an idiot. My coworker thought this was very funny and pointed and laughed at me. I think I even spilled a little clam chowder on her to shut her up. I was in a long term committed relationship. I knew there was nothing I would do about this but I am human and he was gorgeous. A little bit of excitement in an otherwise dull day.
For the next couple of months I got to know him a little better. He was such a great guy and was absorbed into our close knit group of friends very quickly. He fit right in. I was developing a little bit of a crush even. Yikes! I respect committed relationships and I would never cheat on someone. I have always felt very strongly about this for reasons I will not discuss. I remember there was one night we were at work together and I had a psychology project I was working on for college. I interviewed him as one of my subjects and we got to talking afterwards. We admitted to one another that we had crushes on each other. We also discussed how we were both in serious relationships and that our partners were important to us. It was truly a harmless conversation but one I will never forget. It unintentionally changed me in ways I did not know until years later.
Someone actually found me attractive. I was not a used-up, good for nothing, girl with baggage. Someone found me interesting. Just knowing that gave me the strength to admit to myself that I did not like my life; a thought I had been burying deep down inside myself for at least five years. I woke up. I deserved better. I did not have to settle in my situation for the rest of my life. I tasted change and I wanted more. So I changed it.
April and May of 2002 was the hardest time I have had in my whole life. The majority of the tears I have shed in my lifetime was during those two months. Not only had I decided it was time to leave my partner of seven years and change the lives of my sons forever, I lost my Grandmother and a step-sister during the same time. One to old age and one to suicide. I was a wreck. I was not leaving my Ex to be with this new guy but he did give me a wake up call to re access my world. I hope I never have to experience pain like that ever again.
My life has been uphill ever since. I had no intention of being in a new relationship so quickly after my last had ended. But, within a couple months we were inseparable. It was so easy with him. I decided that I was not going to let what happened in my past jeopardize my future with him. The timing was not our fault. I could not let this wonderful man slip away, I just had to be careful how we proceeded because I had two beautiful young boys to consider and I did not want to put them through any more trauma. I knew he was "the one". I even told a friend that I was going to marry him someday. I didn't introduce him to my boys until October 2002. I had him over for a spaghetti dinner and then he left. We took it slowly with the kids. We agreed that they did not need another father but that a decent male role model is always a good thing. When the boys were home with me, we were apart and when the boys went to their father's, we were together. We made it work.
Fast forward nearly ten years, I still adore him. He is my match in every way; we fit like puzzle pieces. All the pain of my past was worth it just to get me to this place. We were married in June of 2008. We wrote our own vows and one of my main points was that he lets me be the Mom I always wanted to be. That is huge to me. He accepts me for who I am in every way. I am happy everyday to wake up next to him, to share my children with him and to continue to build the life we have. I love you, Allen. Thank you for everything and being you. Beep beep.
I was so unhappy. I had given up on my own happiness. I will not go in to the nitty-gritty details of my problems back then because I love my sons and I respect their relationship with their father. I will say that I was holding on for the sake of my two children no matter what it cost me mentally, physically and socially. I had recently started a new job and went back to school. I would go to work during the day and go straight home to the kids when I was done. I did not attempt to build new relationships with my coworkers at first. Over a few months I began to make new friends and become more involved. It was nice to have peers again. I started to believe I was worth something. I was getting my long lost confidence back. It still was not enough of a push.
Then one day in March of 2002, while I was working and minding my own business, my coworker pointed behind me and said, "Look, there's the new guy." I turned around and I couldn't speak. I actually turned a little red in the face. There was an amazing guy walking right by me to go fill out his new hire paperwork. I stood there like an idiot. My coworker thought this was very funny and pointed and laughed at me. I think I even spilled a little clam chowder on her to shut her up. I was in a long term committed relationship. I knew there was nothing I would do about this but I am human and he was gorgeous. A little bit of excitement in an otherwise dull day.
For the next couple of months I got to know him a little better. He was such a great guy and was absorbed into our close knit group of friends very quickly. He fit right in. I was developing a little bit of a crush even. Yikes! I respect committed relationships and I would never cheat on someone. I have always felt very strongly about this for reasons I will not discuss. I remember there was one night we were at work together and I had a psychology project I was working on for college. I interviewed him as one of my subjects and we got to talking afterwards. We admitted to one another that we had crushes on each other. We also discussed how we were both in serious relationships and that our partners were important to us. It was truly a harmless conversation but one I will never forget. It unintentionally changed me in ways I did not know until years later.
Someone actually found me attractive. I was not a used-up, good for nothing, girl with baggage. Someone found me interesting. Just knowing that gave me the strength to admit to myself that I did not like my life; a thought I had been burying deep down inside myself for at least five years. I woke up. I deserved better. I did not have to settle in my situation for the rest of my life. I tasted change and I wanted more. So I changed it.
April and May of 2002 was the hardest time I have had in my whole life. The majority of the tears I have shed in my lifetime was during those two months. Not only had I decided it was time to leave my partner of seven years and change the lives of my sons forever, I lost my Grandmother and a step-sister during the same time. One to old age and one to suicide. I was a wreck. I was not leaving my Ex to be with this new guy but he did give me a wake up call to re access my world. I hope I never have to experience pain like that ever again.
My life has been uphill ever since. I had no intention of being in a new relationship so quickly after my last had ended. But, within a couple months we were inseparable. It was so easy with him. I decided that I was not going to let what happened in my past jeopardize my future with him. The timing was not our fault. I could not let this wonderful man slip away, I just had to be careful how we proceeded because I had two beautiful young boys to consider and I did not want to put them through any more trauma. I knew he was "the one". I even told a friend that I was going to marry him someday. I didn't introduce him to my boys until October 2002. I had him over for a spaghetti dinner and then he left. We took it slowly with the kids. We agreed that they did not need another father but that a decent male role model is always a good thing. When the boys were home with me, we were apart and when the boys went to their father's, we were together. We made it work.
Fast forward nearly ten years, I still adore him. He is my match in every way; we fit like puzzle pieces. All the pain of my past was worth it just to get me to this place. We were married in June of 2008. We wrote our own vows and one of my main points was that he lets me be the Mom I always wanted to be. That is huge to me. He accepts me for who I am in every way. I am happy everyday to wake up next to him, to share my children with him and to continue to build the life we have. I love you, Allen. Thank you for everything and being you. Beep beep.
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