Today is my first day alone with all 3 children. I can't say it's gone swimmingly. The day started early, very early.
The pros of the day thus far: The kids are all fed. I managed to give the older 2 both breakfast and lunch, on time to boot. Kathryn has also been fed. I've gotten a load of laundry done. I managed to call the lab that delivered the first wonderful medical bill from Kathryn's first few days of life to straighten out insurance information. This is about it.
The cons of the day thus far: As I mentioned, the day started early. Kathryn and I got to bed at about 11:30 last night. She woke up at 2 am to eat, and we were back to sleep by 2:30 am. However, she was back up at about 3 am, and up she stayed, until about 4:30. I put her in her bed next to ours and I literally couldn't even doze off before Madelyn started calling for me. I realized my daughters must be telepathically connected, and message each other to tag team me. This is not the first time they have switched on and off with waking the night. I finally got back to sleep around 5 am, and Kathryn woke up once more at 5:30, right as my husband's alarm for work was going off. It was at this point that I burst into tears. Not just a few tears of frustration, but full on sobs, as I choked out to Adam that I was so tired. It was then that the bad parent in me decided to keep PJ home from school today. My 6 yr old has to be up at 6:30 am to get ready for school. This was just too early for me. He was home sick yesterday and today was a half day for him, so I figured I'd keep him home instead of dragging myself and all 3 kids out of the house at 7 am to take him to school for 4 hours.
It didn't buy me much more sleep, and Madelyn was up calling for me at 8 am, in turn waking PJ. After waking, I fed Kathryn and pumped, and when pouring the milk into a storage bag, it tipped over, spilling roughly 4 oz of milk on the counter. Whoever said don't cry over spilled milk did not spill breast milk.
While I was making breakfast, Madelyn did her business in her diaper. She is getting to the point where she knows she doesn't want to sit in her business, so instead of telling me, she just took her diaper off in PJ's room and climbed up on his bed. Half of her diaper load stuck to her butt, so she managed to get poop all over PJ's bed. These are the big cons, aside from the normal little hitches, like both kids coming to me and asking me for something while I'm nursing the baby.
So I think it's safe to say they have already beaten me for the day. 7 pm and quitting time for Adam can't come soon enough.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
The Wonders of Breastfeeding
I'll admit it, as attached and hands on as I consider myself, I've never breastfed one of my kids. Chris was premature and couldn't latch, I pumped for a couple of weeks and then quit. With PJ I really had no desire. I felt tied down by it, like it wasn't for me. I was a little more motivated with Madelyn, and nursing went well for the first 2 days, but she had jaundice and her numbers got pretty high. She was lethargic and was readmitted to the hospital for another 2 days. To help get rid of it, she needed to eat, but she was too tired to eat from the breast. I pumped and she started with the bottle. Her bili levels took over a week to go down, and by the time she was better, she was quite happy with the ease of the bottle. I pumped for her for about 3 months until I couldn't take it anymore. I never worked hard to get her to latch again, I probably could have gotten her back on, but in my mind, I still saw breastfeeding as being tied to the baby.
This time I wanted to give it more of a shot. I was serious about it this time, even though I still dreaded the feeling of being tied to the baby. Not being able to have my husband give a feeding or two in the night. Not being able to go too far from her. But I gave it a shot, and my opinions have changed, big time.
I love breastfeeding. I'm blessed that things are going really smoothly. Kathryn latches well, I have a decent supply, and she seems to have no issues with things I eat. She doesn't spit up and is gaining weight well. The best part, I don't feel tied to her. I'm actually loving the time I get with her. I love that I am feeding her and doing well at it. I love being so close to her and having that connection. I love how peaceful she is, and how when she is done, she curls right and sleeps cuddled next to me. I was so wrong about how I would feel with breastfeeding, but so glad I really gave it a shot.
This time I wanted to give it more of a shot. I was serious about it this time, even though I still dreaded the feeling of being tied to the baby. Not being able to have my husband give a feeding or two in the night. Not being able to go too far from her. But I gave it a shot, and my opinions have changed, big time.
I love breastfeeding. I'm blessed that things are going really smoothly. Kathryn latches well, I have a decent supply, and she seems to have no issues with things I eat. She doesn't spit up and is gaining weight well. The best part, I don't feel tied to her. I'm actually loving the time I get with her. I love that I am feeding her and doing well at it. I love being so close to her and having that connection. I love how peaceful she is, and how when she is done, she curls right and sleeps cuddled next to me. I was so wrong about how I would feel with breastfeeding, but so glad I really gave it a shot.
After a Hiatus
It's been awhile since I posted. On March 29, 2011, we welcomed another beautiful baby girl into our family. My pregnancy went perfectly for once and I carried my first full term baby. In fact, I was pregnant over 2 weeks longer than my previous longest pregnancy, and Kathryn Grace was born at 39 weeks and 3 days. It was by far my smoothest pregnancy and labor/delivery, which was a welcome change after birthing a baby on the bathroom floor at home, as I did with Madelyn.
I chose to be induced, and the timing was just perfect. My mother was able to come in from St. Louis and get settled before she arrived, and she was able to stay with our other children while we were in the hospital. My labor was a short 4 1/2 hours long, and pushing was once again a breeze. Everything went so smoothly and I could do no more than cry tears of joy as soon as she was born. She had a head full of dark hair, just like all of my other kids, and a perfect cry. She looks quite a bit like Madelyn, but she also looks very much like I did when I was born. She was over a pound bigger than any of my other children, tipping the scales at 8 lbs 7 oz. She's done so well, and it's so nice to have a full term baby with absolutely no problems.
I couldn't be more in love with her. I love all of my children, but for some reason, I've cherished every second of this ride so much more than any of my other kids. I cherished every moment of my pregnancy and even down to the end, I was comfortable where I was at. With my other kids, there was a sense of urgency, get them out, see what they look like, snuggle them. But not with Kathryn. The same goes for after birth. With my other kids, I couldn't wait until the got bigger, big enough to smile, coo, eat solids, talk, walk and so on. I always wanted things to hurry up. Not with Kathryn. I don't want her to grow. I am cherishing every day. Soaking in the softness and fragility of this tiny, helpless baby. I'm in no hurry to rush her to the next milestone. I kiss her and cuddle her, stroke her hair and her skin. She is perfect, she is beautiful, and she is my daughter.
I chose to be induced, and the timing was just perfect. My mother was able to come in from St. Louis and get settled before she arrived, and she was able to stay with our other children while we were in the hospital. My labor was a short 4 1/2 hours long, and pushing was once again a breeze. Everything went so smoothly and I could do no more than cry tears of joy as soon as she was born. She had a head full of dark hair, just like all of my other kids, and a perfect cry. She looks quite a bit like Madelyn, but she also looks very much like I did when I was born. She was over a pound bigger than any of my other children, tipping the scales at 8 lbs 7 oz. She's done so well, and it's so nice to have a full term baby with absolutely no problems.
I couldn't be more in love with her. I love all of my children, but for some reason, I've cherished every second of this ride so much more than any of my other kids. I cherished every moment of my pregnancy and even down to the end, I was comfortable where I was at. With my other kids, there was a sense of urgency, get them out, see what they look like, snuggle them. But not with Kathryn. The same goes for after birth. With my other kids, I couldn't wait until the got bigger, big enough to smile, coo, eat solids, talk, walk and so on. I always wanted things to hurry up. Not with Kathryn. I don't want her to grow. I am cherishing every day. Soaking in the softness and fragility of this tiny, helpless baby. I'm in no hurry to rush her to the next milestone. I kiss her and cuddle her, stroke her hair and her skin. She is perfect, she is beautiful, and she is my daughter.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Another Year
Another birthday approaches. I guess it's just going to be one of those years where I just bury my head in the sand and try to ignore the day to the best of my ability. Chris' 8th birthday is coming up, 17 days away. Last year I loosely organized a toy drive in his memory, but this year, nothing. I'm just drained again this year, emotionally, and it makes me tired. My brain and my body just seem to shut down and it's hard to find the energy to devote to his memory. It makes me feel like an awful mother. I see other baby loss mothers pick themselves up and do something novel in the name of their baby, so their child's short life is always carried on. For some reason I'm not usually one of those mothers.
It seems like everyone else has forgotten Chris. There will be no phone calls, no balloons, no cakes in memory of. A few people may think of him through the day, family members, but that's about it. I may mention it on Facebook and that will elicit a response, but if I don't, he will likely go unmentioned. His angel day did this year. People just forget, it's life. But for me it's just a little extra pain. Not only did I lose him, but I can't even carry on his memory. I can't even manage to make sure people remember him or his life. Like he never existed. When someone dies, the way they live on is through their memory. And if his existence is buried in the back of peoples' minds, lost and untouched, I guess his short time on this planet was in vain. And I guess that means I failed as his mother. Another year, another birthday, another reminder of the pain and failure I have to carry with me, silently, for the rest of my life.
It seems like everyone else has forgotten Chris. There will be no phone calls, no balloons, no cakes in memory of. A few people may think of him through the day, family members, but that's about it. I may mention it on Facebook and that will elicit a response, but if I don't, he will likely go unmentioned. His angel day did this year. People just forget, it's life. But for me it's just a little extra pain. Not only did I lose him, but I can't even carry on his memory. I can't even manage to make sure people remember him or his life. Like he never existed. When someone dies, the way they live on is through their memory. And if his existence is buried in the back of peoples' minds, lost and untouched, I guess his short time on this planet was in vain. And I guess that means I failed as his mother. Another year, another birthday, another reminder of the pain and failure I have to carry with me, silently, for the rest of my life.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
40 Weeks
Well technically, 38 weeks, since nothing is really going on the first two weeks. But either way, 38-40 weeks. It seems like such a long time, especially to an expecting mother, but in the grand scheme of things, and in hindsight, it isn't that long of a time.
It's what happens in those 40 weeks that is absolutely amazing. Whether you think 40 weeks is forever, or just the blink of an eye, you have to admit that it is awe inspiring what happens in those 40 weeks. It all starts with two cells. Two tiny, microscopic cells come together. The chances alone of them coming together during a small window of time are already small as it is, just 25% for a woman in her prime child bearing years. The window of opportunity for the two to meet is so small. Once these two cells defy odds and come together, it's just magic after that. They divide, and two becomes four, four becomes either, and soon enough, something more than just a ball of cells takes shape. And in just 40 weeks, these two cells turn into a baby. A living, breathing gorgeous bundle of joy. It all seems so scientific, but when you really break it down and think about it, it's amazing. Some flowers only bloom once a year, and they are just flowers. But in less time, two tiny objects can come together and create perfection. I am nearly 19 weeks into my 40 weeks, and while this is my fourth child, it has yet to stop filling me with wonder. I don't think it ever will.
It's what happens in those 40 weeks that is absolutely amazing. Whether you think 40 weeks is forever, or just the blink of an eye, you have to admit that it is awe inspiring what happens in those 40 weeks. It all starts with two cells. Two tiny, microscopic cells come together. The chances alone of them coming together during a small window of time are already small as it is, just 25% for a woman in her prime child bearing years. The window of opportunity for the two to meet is so small. Once these two cells defy odds and come together, it's just magic after that. They divide, and two becomes four, four becomes either, and soon enough, something more than just a ball of cells takes shape. And in just 40 weeks, these two cells turn into a baby. A living, breathing gorgeous bundle of joy. It all seems so scientific, but when you really break it down and think about it, it's amazing. Some flowers only bloom once a year, and they are just flowers. But in less time, two tiny objects can come together and create perfection. I am nearly 19 weeks into my 40 weeks, and while this is my fourth child, it has yet to stop filling me with wonder. I don't think it ever will.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
9/11: A New World
Another anniversary of the 9/11 attacks is here. And as I do year after year, I stay glued to the stories and the videos of that day. It makes me want to cry every year, and the tears do well up in my eyes. The sights and the sounds, they are all things I can't forget, and honestly, they are things I never want to forget. I never want to forget each person who died that day, as I know their families never forget.
I watch every year. I watch the second plane fly into the south tower every year. I watch the desperate souls trapped in the buildings, waving their suit jackets and other articles of clothing out the windows, so high up. I watch the hopeless souls who knew they had no chances of rescue jump from the buildings and fall so silently through the air. I watch the fire trucks screaming towards the scene, and catch the brief glimpse of the faces of fire fighters, knowing that they have no clue that they are most likely on their way to their deaths. I watch police officers at the base of the towers, knowing that they will most likely suffer the same fate as the fire fighters. I watch the paper floating through the air, as if it's snowing. And then I watch the towers crumple, taking down thousands of innocent people with them.
I listen to phone calls to 911, from people trapped above the fires. They are desperate, and the dispatchers can offer them no advice. They sound cold but they know there is nothing that can be done. I listen to the sirens, rushing to rescue people, not knowing what lies ahead. I listen to screams and cries and the silence of those too stunned to do anything. I listen to the rush of the towers crumbling. I listen to the sound of the rescue chirps of the first responders among the rubble. So many chirps and noting else but smoke.
Today is not a day of recession. It is not a day of war. It is not a day of politics. Today is not a day of elections. Today is not celebrity gossip. Today is the day a new world was born. My children will never know life before this world. My children will read about this in their history books in school, but thank God they will not know of the things I watched, and the things I heard. And I thank God I only watched it on television. Today is a day of mourning, today is a day to reflect. Today is a day to pray, for those who lost their lives and for the families that live with missing them. Today is a day to remember. I know I will never forget, and I will never stop watching.
I watch every year. I watch the second plane fly into the south tower every year. I watch the desperate souls trapped in the buildings, waving their suit jackets and other articles of clothing out the windows, so high up. I watch the hopeless souls who knew they had no chances of rescue jump from the buildings and fall so silently through the air. I watch the fire trucks screaming towards the scene, and catch the brief glimpse of the faces of fire fighters, knowing that they have no clue that they are most likely on their way to their deaths. I watch police officers at the base of the towers, knowing that they will most likely suffer the same fate as the fire fighters. I watch the paper floating through the air, as if it's snowing. And then I watch the towers crumple, taking down thousands of innocent people with them.
I listen to phone calls to 911, from people trapped above the fires. They are desperate, and the dispatchers can offer them no advice. They sound cold but they know there is nothing that can be done. I listen to the sirens, rushing to rescue people, not knowing what lies ahead. I listen to screams and cries and the silence of those too stunned to do anything. I listen to the rush of the towers crumbling. I listen to the sound of the rescue chirps of the first responders among the rubble. So many chirps and noting else but smoke.
Today is not a day of recession. It is not a day of war. It is not a day of politics. Today is not a day of elections. Today is not celebrity gossip. Today is the day a new world was born. My children will never know life before this world. My children will read about this in their history books in school, but thank God they will not know of the things I watched, and the things I heard. And I thank God I only watched it on television. Today is a day of mourning, today is a day to reflect. Today is a day to pray, for those who lost their lives and for the families that live with missing them. Today is a day to remember. I know I will never forget, and I will never stop watching.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Trying to Catch Up
I hate that I've neglected my little blog here, but since we moved, it's just one thing on a long list of things that have been pushed to the side and ignored. It hadn't been officially announced, but we are expecting once again. We're excited. I'm now over 10 weeks. And as sick as a dog. I've never been hit this hard in pregnancy before. Each pregnancy has gotten progressively worse, and this one takes the cake. I'm so grateful to be blessed with another pregnancy, and this very well may be the last baby for us, so I'm trying to take it slow and enjoy it, as well as enjoy my life as a mom of just 2 kiddos. But feeling this awful from the time I wake up until the time I go to sleep, not wanting to eat anything, and just feeling as nasty and sluggish as I do, I just want it to hurry up, so I can get past this point. Not only do I feel so sick all the time, but my energy and motivation is gone. I keep the house clean, the kids fed, and make sure the rest of my motherly duties are taken care of, but anything above and beyond is not on my radar. I used to love to get out of the house, go and do, even if it just meant Walmart. Now I dread needing to go to the store because it requires leaving the house. I'm just trying my best to tell myself that here in a few weeks I should start feeling better. I'm definitely keeping my fingers crossed.
