Another friend of mine had a baby recently. I talked to her on the phone and she sounded so... peaceful. While it was probably the vicodin, I was left to imagine her holding her new little baby in her arms, softly stroking his hair, looking at his face and marveling at the wonder of new life.
Shortly after talking to her, I was sitting on the couch with my boys. D was playing with a couple of toys; his toy hippo deep in conversation with his elephant. G was on my lap, alternately watching his brother and reaching out to grab one of the assortment of baby toys I'd picked up and set within his reach. I had this wonderful moment of clarity. Not the first; there have been a number of times when the reality of my situation has hit me in similar ways. But I sat there looking at my children, thinking of my friend holding hers, and I felt nothing but pure, unadulterated gratitude.
That's something, coming from me, and it makes my heart a little warm that I was able to feel that and nothing else. I didn't feel a twinge of jealousy, nor a spark of envy. Even in the wake of my second pregnancy, achieved without the long trek through infertility, I'd grown used to feeling at least a teensy bit jealous of friends or acquaintances when they announced pregnancies or had their babies. But here I was, basking in the reflected glow of new motherhood, and all I could think was dammit if I'm not one of the luckiest chicks on this planet.
G still smells of baby, his head is soft under my chin. He's chubby as can be and feels amazing in my arms. D is possibly the most entertaining person I know; he never ceases to amaze me with the things that come out of his mouth. And between the two of them, I can't imagine loving anything more.
As cliche as it may be to label them such, they are my miracles. I look at them and I see pieces of myself, pieces of my husband and something entirely new. I tell you, God really knew what he was doing when he created us and this whole process of life. What better way to express to us His love, than to have us experience the amazement of having our own children. It absolutely takes my breath away.
They are such beautiful little beings and it humbles me to be trusted with their lives; to have their little souls in my care, if even for such a brief time as childhood. I'm so grateful for this gift, the gift of being a mother. So tonight I say a prayer for all mothers, that you may have the love and wisdom in your heart to raise your children well; and to all who wish to be mothers, that you are blessed with the children your hearts so long for.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Friday, January 11, 2008
One of those days (aka I need a drink!)
Can someone please pass me a really big margarita? No wait, a cosmo. Yeah, a cosmo would be good...
We're still embroiled in the poopscapades. Despite days and days of miralax, which is successfully softening D's stools, he does not want to poop. At all. It isn't that he doesn't want to go on the potty - he doesn't want to go at all. I've even offered to put him in a diaper or pull up, just so he'll go and it won't be so damned messy. Of course, the mention of a diaper brought up an instant refrain of, "Nooooooo! Those are for babies!"
Part of the plan, per our pediatrician, was to get D to sit on the potty for a bit once or twice a day, in addition to the times he pees. He absolutely will not do it. I've asked, coaxed, told, given him a 5 minute warning, bribed with treats, tried to read books, sing songs, play musical instruments and have him listen to my ipod. He wants none of it. He refuses completely. He's even started jumping off the potty as fast as he can after peeing, to the point that he's barely finished, just so he doesn't have to sit there any longer than aboslutely necessary. Because of course, he wouldn't want to accidentally poop.
You know how they say not to force potty training? I'm ready to duct tape the kid to the freaking potty until he poops.
I can totally tell when he's holding it. He gets quiet and a little whiney, and very clingy. He wants to sit on the couch and cuddle, or lie on the couch with a blanket. Then he'll tell me his head hurts - what he really means is his tummy hurts, but he's heard me tell him that his tummy hurts because he has to poop so many times, he doesn't want to admit it's his tummy. This, of course, brings up my paranoid mommy instinct and I start worrying he has a brain tumor. Sigh.
Then he'll start pacing around, not quite doing the potty dance like he has to pee really bad, but walking around, standing on his tippy toes, shifting a lot. Then the poop will simply start to come out, whether he likes it or not. He'll hunker down, look like he's actually trying to go - but what he's really doing is trying to suck it all back in. Lovely image for you, isn't it?
Twice today I had to wipe his bottom and change his underwear because there was a little smear. The miralax is making his stool too soft to hold it in (as per plan), but the problem is, I can't get him to sit on the potty to take care of the rest of it. He'll hold and hold and pace and whine and tell me his head hurts until finally, he poops a little in his pants.
Today he did that during quiet time. I got out of the shower to find him calling for me from his room. I opened the door and the smell gave it away. Great. But there wasn't much in there and I was certain he wasn't done.
Sure enough, a couple hours later the dance began again. His demeanor changed, he started acting clingy and complaining vaguely. Finally he was standing next to me and started saying, "Mama, Mama, Mama," and I whisked him into the bathroom. He protested on the way in there, but not to the point of a total meltdown, so I had hope. He sat there and peed, but I could see he needed to do more. I said in my cheeriest voice, "Wait a second!" and he paused - long enough for the offending poop to finally make it's exit. He looked at me in surprise as he did it, then said with a quiet smile, "I pooped, Mama."
Phew!
I made sure to talk to him about it a bit, reiterating that it didn't hurt when he did it. He agreed and told Daddy, "My tummy feels so much better now!"
We'll see what tomorrow brings. This non-pooping thing has been driving me up the wall. I wish he'd figure out that it won't hurt (as long as we keep putting his "special vitamins" in his morning milk, wink wink), and it feels better to just let it go than hold it in.
I suppose he will figure it out eventually. Until then, I'm edgy.
And G is getting all four top teeth at once. Please pass another cosmo!
We're still embroiled in the poopscapades. Despite days and days of miralax, which is successfully softening D's stools, he does not want to poop. At all. It isn't that he doesn't want to go on the potty - he doesn't want to go at all. I've even offered to put him in a diaper or pull up, just so he'll go and it won't be so damned messy. Of course, the mention of a diaper brought up an instant refrain of, "Nooooooo! Those are for babies!"
Part of the plan, per our pediatrician, was to get D to sit on the potty for a bit once or twice a day, in addition to the times he pees. He absolutely will not do it. I've asked, coaxed, told, given him a 5 minute warning, bribed with treats, tried to read books, sing songs, play musical instruments and have him listen to my ipod. He wants none of it. He refuses completely. He's even started jumping off the potty as fast as he can after peeing, to the point that he's barely finished, just so he doesn't have to sit there any longer than aboslutely necessary. Because of course, he wouldn't want to accidentally poop.
You know how they say not to force potty training? I'm ready to duct tape the kid to the freaking potty until he poops.
I can totally tell when he's holding it. He gets quiet and a little whiney, and very clingy. He wants to sit on the couch and cuddle, or lie on the couch with a blanket. Then he'll tell me his head hurts - what he really means is his tummy hurts, but he's heard me tell him that his tummy hurts because he has to poop so many times, he doesn't want to admit it's his tummy. This, of course, brings up my paranoid mommy instinct and I start worrying he has a brain tumor. Sigh.
Then he'll start pacing around, not quite doing the potty dance like he has to pee really bad, but walking around, standing on his tippy toes, shifting a lot. Then the poop will simply start to come out, whether he likes it or not. He'll hunker down, look like he's actually trying to go - but what he's really doing is trying to suck it all back in. Lovely image for you, isn't it?
Twice today I had to wipe his bottom and change his underwear because there was a little smear. The miralax is making his stool too soft to hold it in (as per plan), but the problem is, I can't get him to sit on the potty to take care of the rest of it. He'll hold and hold and pace and whine and tell me his head hurts until finally, he poops a little in his pants.
Today he did that during quiet time. I got out of the shower to find him calling for me from his room. I opened the door and the smell gave it away. Great. But there wasn't much in there and I was certain he wasn't done.
Sure enough, a couple hours later the dance began again. His demeanor changed, he started acting clingy and complaining vaguely. Finally he was standing next to me and started saying, "Mama, Mama, Mama," and I whisked him into the bathroom. He protested on the way in there, but not to the point of a total meltdown, so I had hope. He sat there and peed, but I could see he needed to do more. I said in my cheeriest voice, "Wait a second!" and he paused - long enough for the offending poop to finally make it's exit. He looked at me in surprise as he did it, then said with a quiet smile, "I pooped, Mama."
Phew!
I made sure to talk to him about it a bit, reiterating that it didn't hurt when he did it. He agreed and told Daddy, "My tummy feels so much better now!"
We'll see what tomorrow brings. This non-pooping thing has been driving me up the wall. I wish he'd figure out that it won't hurt (as long as we keep putting his "special vitamins" in his morning milk, wink wink), and it feels better to just let it go than hold it in.
I suppose he will figure it out eventually. Until then, I'm edgy.
And G is getting all four top teeth at once. Please pass another cosmo!
Thursday, January 10, 2008
My stroller addiction
Some people are addicted to coffee, some chocolate, some late night trips to Taco Bell. I am addicted to strollers.
Prior to today, I owned three, all of which I purchased before G was even born. One child and three strollers... sure, makes sense. I started with one, my Graco which came as part of the travel system I got at my baby shower before D was born. Then I added a jogging stroller - a really nice BOB Ironman which actually got a lot of use when I was training for my triathlon. And when I was pregnant with G I bought a cheap umbrella stroller; I needed something light and easy to lift so I could more easily take D out and about with me. The last thing I needed was to be chasing after my toddler while I was big and pregnant.
Add to that a wagon, backpack, baby bjorn, bike trailer and sling and you have way too many baby transport items in one garage.
But today, I added to my collection. But I have to back up...
I am a chronic overthinker. I obsess over the simplest decisions, research the crap out of everything and generally make myself crazy in the process. It's one of my larger insanities. I've been eyeing the Baby Trend Sit-n-Stand stroller literally for months. When I was pg with G, we decided not to spring for a double stroller right away, being unsure as to whether we'd need one. We didn't put D in a stroller much anymore; he usually prefers to walk, and we've spent many an outing with him pushing an empty stroller, or me pushing a diaper bag. So a double stroller seemed like an unnecessary expense, at least until we knew whether it would get much use.
When G was smaller, I carried him around in a sling a lot; there were plenty of times when I'd sling G and have D in the Graco. A double stroller didn't seem necessary. But then G started to grow - and grow and grow and grow! That kid is huge! My little guy became an almost 20lb 6 month old in no time flat (he clears 20lbs now). That's a lot of baby to be strapping to your hip!
So I started looking at double strollers, "just to see what's out there." Yeah, right. I found the Baby Trend and my heart did a little leap - it wasn't a real double, but could fit both kidlets. And didn't cost an arm and a leg - this one had possiblities!
Proceed to obsessive overthinking. I looked at it on various websites; tried to find different pictures, different angles. Found the best possible deal, just in case I actually decided to buy one. I told my husband about it, and he was lukewarm on the idea - not helping me at all. I tried to picture outings with the thing, and without it. Whenever I went somewhere with both boys, I wondered if the trip would have been easier with the stroller. Sometimes, it felt like it would be. Other times, well, I don't know.
This went on for literally a couple of months. See, I'm insane. I couldn't decide if I'd buy it and end up regretting spending the cash. I hate feeling buyers remorse, especially when it's something I have to talk my husband into getting. He just kept laughing at me and shaking his head at my "stroller obsession" (his words).
Finally, a week or so ago, the four of us went to the mall. We had G in the umbrella stroller, which has zero features except to hold the baby and allow me to push; it's even too short for my husband to push it comfortably. David was alternately walking, whining to be picked up, riding on Daddy's shoulders, and then whining because his legs fell asleep. We got home from that little trip and I was drawn inexorably to my computer - to once again look at the damn stroller.
I ended up ordering it as much because I wanted it and truly think it will be useful, as to get the stupid thing off my mind. All right, already, I'll order you! Just get out of my freaking head! I was sick of debating and wondering and obsessing, so I just freaking did it.
It came today and it was like feeding an addiction. The UPS guy rang the doorbell and I knew it must be my stroller! (Not like I'd been tracking the package everyday... no, of course not). I ripped into the box, even though I'd been on my way upstairs to put G down for a nap. C'mon kid, you can wait 10 more minutes while I put this thing together! I got the wheels snapped on, the canopy in place and the tray attached. There it was, in all it's glory. My Baby Trend Sit-n-Stand in blue check. Ah, the things that make moms happy.
The entire time I was putting the thing together, D was clamouring to get on and take a ride. Finally, I let him on and I think he was more excited than I was! He wanted me to put G in and then push them around, so we went outside and rode up and down the street a little. (And if you knew me when D was a baby, you'd be shocked that I'd put off G's nap long enough to do all this!)
So there you have it, stroller #4. It's pretty awesome though, and I think we'll get a lot of use out of it. And like my husband said, we're hoping for a baby #3, so by that time G will be old enough to ride on the sit-n-stand part, D will be too big for a stroller, and the littlest one will be riding up front.
Although, am I kidding myself that I'd actually be going anywhere with three kids? Hmmm...
Prior to today, I owned three, all of which I purchased before G was even born. One child and three strollers... sure, makes sense. I started with one, my Graco which came as part of the travel system I got at my baby shower before D was born. Then I added a jogging stroller - a really nice BOB Ironman which actually got a lot of use when I was training for my triathlon. And when I was pregnant with G I bought a cheap umbrella stroller; I needed something light and easy to lift so I could more easily take D out and about with me. The last thing I needed was to be chasing after my toddler while I was big and pregnant.
Add to that a wagon, backpack, baby bjorn, bike trailer and sling and you have way too many baby transport items in one garage.
But today, I added to my collection. But I have to back up...
I am a chronic overthinker. I obsess over the simplest decisions, research the crap out of everything and generally make myself crazy in the process. It's one of my larger insanities. I've been eyeing the Baby Trend Sit-n-Stand stroller literally for months. When I was pg with G, we decided not to spring for a double stroller right away, being unsure as to whether we'd need one. We didn't put D in a stroller much anymore; he usually prefers to walk, and we've spent many an outing with him pushing an empty stroller, or me pushing a diaper bag. So a double stroller seemed like an unnecessary expense, at least until we knew whether it would get much use.
When G was smaller, I carried him around in a sling a lot; there were plenty of times when I'd sling G and have D in the Graco. A double stroller didn't seem necessary. But then G started to grow - and grow and grow and grow! That kid is huge! My little guy became an almost 20lb 6 month old in no time flat (he clears 20lbs now). That's a lot of baby to be strapping to your hip!
So I started looking at double strollers, "just to see what's out there." Yeah, right. I found the Baby Trend and my heart did a little leap - it wasn't a real double, but could fit both kidlets. And didn't cost an arm and a leg - this one had possiblities!
Proceed to obsessive overthinking. I looked at it on various websites; tried to find different pictures, different angles. Found the best possible deal, just in case I actually decided to buy one. I told my husband about it, and he was lukewarm on the idea - not helping me at all. I tried to picture outings with the thing, and without it. Whenever I went somewhere with both boys, I wondered if the trip would have been easier with the stroller. Sometimes, it felt like it would be. Other times, well, I don't know.
This went on for literally a couple of months. See, I'm insane. I couldn't decide if I'd buy it and end up regretting spending the cash. I hate feeling buyers remorse, especially when it's something I have to talk my husband into getting. He just kept laughing at me and shaking his head at my "stroller obsession" (his words).
Finally, a week or so ago, the four of us went to the mall. We had G in the umbrella stroller, which has zero features except to hold the baby and allow me to push; it's even too short for my husband to push it comfortably. David was alternately walking, whining to be picked up, riding on Daddy's shoulders, and then whining because his legs fell asleep. We got home from that little trip and I was drawn inexorably to my computer - to once again look at the damn stroller.
I ended up ordering it as much because I wanted it and truly think it will be useful, as to get the stupid thing off my mind. All right, already, I'll order you! Just get out of my freaking head! I was sick of debating and wondering and obsessing, so I just freaking did it.
It came today and it was like feeding an addiction. The UPS guy rang the doorbell and I knew it must be my stroller! (Not like I'd been tracking the package everyday... no, of course not). I ripped into the box, even though I'd been on my way upstairs to put G down for a nap. C'mon kid, you can wait 10 more minutes while I put this thing together! I got the wheels snapped on, the canopy in place and the tray attached. There it was, in all it's glory. My Baby Trend Sit-n-Stand in blue check. Ah, the things that make moms happy.
The entire time I was putting the thing together, D was clamouring to get on and take a ride. Finally, I let him on and I think he was more excited than I was! He wanted me to put G in and then push them around, so we went outside and rode up and down the street a little. (And if you knew me when D was a baby, you'd be shocked that I'd put off G's nap long enough to do all this!)
So there you have it, stroller #4. It's pretty awesome though, and I think we'll get a lot of use out of it. And like my husband said, we're hoping for a baby #3, so by that time G will be old enough to ride on the sit-n-stand part, D will be too big for a stroller, and the littlest one will be riding up front.
Although, am I kidding myself that I'd actually be going anywhere with three kids? Hmmm...
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
A new life and a confession.
One of my oldest friends had a baby girl this morning. I have mixed feelings about the whole thing. On the one hand, a baby is always a blessing, always a miracle. On the other, she's in an abusive marriage and this is her third child in just over three years. Her ties to her asshole of a husband grow tighter and tighter as time goes on. Adding another child to this marriage is SO not a good idea.
However, I would like to welcome little Charlotte Sue to the world (despite my loathing of her father).
Now for the confession part... Here goes. I'm a little jealous.
I want a daughter. There, I said it out loud.
Look, here's what I know:
I love my boys more than I ever could have imagined possible. You know in "How the Grinch Stole Christmas," at the end where his heart grows three sizes and he's finally able to feel the true meaning of Christmas? I've experienced something akin to that, twice now. My heart has grown so huge I don't know how it could possibly be contained inside my chest (despite my enormous breastfeeding boobs).
I wouldn't trade either of my boys for anything in the world. If God came to me and said, "Ok, so you want a daughter; I can give you one, but you have to give one of your boys back," the answer would be a very quick, clear and loud NOOOOOOOOO! They are my babies and I adore them.
I believe we have the children we were meant to have. If I have a third child (likely) and that child is another boy (also seems likely), I know I will love him just as much as I love my first two and I wouldn't trade him for anything either.
So this isn't a case of I had a boy, decided to try again hoping for a girl, had another boy who wasn't good enough for me, so I need to try again for that girl. We wanted another CHILD, regardless of gender and that goes for trying for a third as well. And like I said, I wouldn't trade G for anything. He's amazing.
Although I know I won't regret having a third boy, there's a part of me that wishes for the things that go with having a daughter. I have a great relationship with my mom and I've always hoped to experience the other end of that with my own daughter. And what can I say, I love Barbies and baby dolls and princess dress up and tea parties. A lot of it is the superficial stuff, like decorating a room with lavendar or pink and dressing her up in pretty outfits for the holidays; doing her hair in braids with pink ribbons. And thinking ahead to things like getting a first Communion dress, ballet lessons, taking her to the latest tween girly movie... being the mother of the bride. Those are things I have to admit, I long for.
I've been through infertility and I haven't forgotten. I'm more than grateful for my children and I love them dearly. Believe me when I say, more than anything I want an easy conception, a smooth pregnancy and, above all, a healthy child. If God has another boy in store for me, then you know what, it will rock. I'll be the cool boy mommy who gets dirty, knows all about transformers and ninja turtles, and takes the boys out to ride four wheelers in the mud. I look forward to being the cool mom their friends all dig because I make them awesome chocolate chip cookies when they come over after football practice. And there is something pretty special about having brothers. I'll embrace it and love it and it will be great.
But, for now, while I'm dreaming about what God has in store for me, I'm longing for a daughter someday. My boys are the best and I love them. It isn't that they aren't enough for me. But with the thought of another baby someday, it makes me wonder if I'll get to experience those special things that mommies of girls get to do.
However, I would like to welcome little Charlotte Sue to the world (despite my loathing of her father).
Now for the confession part... Here goes. I'm a little jealous.
I want a daughter. There, I said it out loud.
Look, here's what I know:
I love my boys more than I ever could have imagined possible. You know in "How the Grinch Stole Christmas," at the end where his heart grows three sizes and he's finally able to feel the true meaning of Christmas? I've experienced something akin to that, twice now. My heart has grown so huge I don't know how it could possibly be contained inside my chest (despite my enormous breastfeeding boobs).
I wouldn't trade either of my boys for anything in the world. If God came to me and said, "Ok, so you want a daughter; I can give you one, but you have to give one of your boys back," the answer would be a very quick, clear and loud NOOOOOOOOO! They are my babies and I adore them.
I believe we have the children we were meant to have. If I have a third child (likely) and that child is another boy (also seems likely), I know I will love him just as much as I love my first two and I wouldn't trade him for anything either.
So this isn't a case of I had a boy, decided to try again hoping for a girl, had another boy who wasn't good enough for me, so I need to try again for that girl. We wanted another CHILD, regardless of gender and that goes for trying for a third as well. And like I said, I wouldn't trade G for anything. He's amazing.
Although I know I won't regret having a third boy, there's a part of me that wishes for the things that go with having a daughter. I have a great relationship with my mom and I've always hoped to experience the other end of that with my own daughter. And what can I say, I love Barbies and baby dolls and princess dress up and tea parties. A lot of it is the superficial stuff, like decorating a room with lavendar or pink and dressing her up in pretty outfits for the holidays; doing her hair in braids with pink ribbons. And thinking ahead to things like getting a first Communion dress, ballet lessons, taking her to the latest tween girly movie... being the mother of the bride. Those are things I have to admit, I long for.
I've been through infertility and I haven't forgotten. I'm more than grateful for my children and I love them dearly. Believe me when I say, more than anything I want an easy conception, a smooth pregnancy and, above all, a healthy child. If God has another boy in store for me, then you know what, it will rock. I'll be the cool boy mommy who gets dirty, knows all about transformers and ninja turtles, and takes the boys out to ride four wheelers in the mud. I look forward to being the cool mom their friends all dig because I make them awesome chocolate chip cookies when they come over after football practice. And there is something pretty special about having brothers. I'll embrace it and love it and it will be great.
But, for now, while I'm dreaming about what God has in store for me, I'm longing for a daughter someday. My boys are the best and I love them. It isn't that they aren't enough for me. But with the thought of another baby someday, it makes me wonder if I'll get to experience those special things that mommies of girls get to do.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Just 30 minutes, please
All I want is 30 minutes. Thirty measly minutes when I can sit down, eat a little lunch, check my email and go to the bathroom without someone crying and someone else trying to come in.
D no longer naps (lovely), but I've kept up with what we almost jokingly call "quiet time". While G takes his afternoon nap, D hangs out in his room and plays. Theoretically, he'd be playing quietly, but "quiet" is rarely an adjective I'd use.
I've fought rather hard to keep quiet time going. He's tested me in every way he can. He's tried coming out of his room repeatedly, sitting in there crying for me, lying on the floor and kicking his door... He's a stubborn little guy (so much like his father, it's rather scary). I need that time, and I think he does too. After a while, he gets bored of whatever antics he's trying and we'll have weeks or a month or so where quiet time goes smoothly. Most days he actually asks to go to quiet time, or tells me when he's ready; I think the routine is comforting. But then something else comes up and I have to fight for it yet again. We renew the sticker chart, promise various rewards for staying in his room, etc.
Our latest problem revolves around the fact that he's refusing to poop. We went to the doctor this morning and I was reminded once again why I love our pediatrician. He has 5 kids of his own, so he's pretty much seen it all. The first thing he said was, "Yeah, Jack did that. Here's what we did for him." He gave us a stool softener, instructions of how to use it and a lot of reassurance that it's very safe and mild; his son used it for 3 years straight! He said it's rare that they need it that long; usually the fear of pooping passes after a month or so of going comfortably. I sure hope so - this has been exhausting!
At this point, D hasn't pooped in about 4 days and he's remarkably uncomfortable. And that's why he's not cooperating with quiet time. His butt hurts, his tummy hurts and all the kid really needs to do is sit on the potty and take a good dump. But will he? Of course not. That would be too easy. So he's sitting in there whining, playing for a bit, then whining some more. He keeps coming out to tell me he needs to go potty, then quickly changing his mind and saying he doesn't need to.
I'm currently banging my head against a wall.
I just need 30 minutes. That's all. G is the short nap wonder, so if he sleeps for 45 minutes at a time, I'm happy. This is the only time during the day, from the time they wake up to the time we get D to bed, that I have any sort of a break. And D won't leave me alone for 2 seconds.
At the moment, I can hear him playing with is new imaginary friend, Mr. Dinosaur and his ninja turtle action figures. I may actually get to finish my diet coke. And considering G woke me up at 5:30 this morning, I need the caffiene.
And yes, I would like some cheese with my whine.
D no longer naps (lovely), but I've kept up with what we almost jokingly call "quiet time". While G takes his afternoon nap, D hangs out in his room and plays. Theoretically, he'd be playing quietly, but "quiet" is rarely an adjective I'd use.
I've fought rather hard to keep quiet time going. He's tested me in every way he can. He's tried coming out of his room repeatedly, sitting in there crying for me, lying on the floor and kicking his door... He's a stubborn little guy (so much like his father, it's rather scary). I need that time, and I think he does too. After a while, he gets bored of whatever antics he's trying and we'll have weeks or a month or so where quiet time goes smoothly. Most days he actually asks to go to quiet time, or tells me when he's ready; I think the routine is comforting. But then something else comes up and I have to fight for it yet again. We renew the sticker chart, promise various rewards for staying in his room, etc.
Our latest problem revolves around the fact that he's refusing to poop. We went to the doctor this morning and I was reminded once again why I love our pediatrician. He has 5 kids of his own, so he's pretty much seen it all. The first thing he said was, "Yeah, Jack did that. Here's what we did for him." He gave us a stool softener, instructions of how to use it and a lot of reassurance that it's very safe and mild; his son used it for 3 years straight! He said it's rare that they need it that long; usually the fear of pooping passes after a month or so of going comfortably. I sure hope so - this has been exhausting!
At this point, D hasn't pooped in about 4 days and he's remarkably uncomfortable. And that's why he's not cooperating with quiet time. His butt hurts, his tummy hurts and all the kid really needs to do is sit on the potty and take a good dump. But will he? Of course not. That would be too easy. So he's sitting in there whining, playing for a bit, then whining some more. He keeps coming out to tell me he needs to go potty, then quickly changing his mind and saying he doesn't need to.
I'm currently banging my head against a wall.
I just need 30 minutes. That's all. G is the short nap wonder, so if he sleeps for 45 minutes at a time, I'm happy. This is the only time during the day, from the time they wake up to the time we get D to bed, that I have any sort of a break. And D won't leave me alone for 2 seconds.
At the moment, I can hear him playing with is new imaginary friend, Mr. Dinosaur and his ninja turtle action figures. I may actually get to finish my diet coke. And considering G woke me up at 5:30 this morning, I need the caffiene.
And yes, I would like some cheese with my whine.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Juno
We went out and saw Juno last night. Great movie! I didn't know anything about it, other than my sister-in-law said it was hilarious and my husband looked it up on rottentomatoes.com and it had great reviews. Deservedly so!
It's about a high school girl, Juno, who gets pregnant and decides to give the baby up for adoption to Mark and Vanessa, played by Jason Bateman and Jennifer Garner. Because my SIL deemed it "hilarious", I was expecting the funny stuff. Juno's dialogue is really funny; her attitude and mannerisms were great.
What I didn't expect was the rush of emotions it was going to bring up for me. I saw so much of myself in Vanessa; at least myself four years ago. She's a woman who desperately longs for a baby, but for some reason isn't able to have one of her own. She's likely been down the infertility road with no success, and even been burned by another potential adpotion. I never made it that far down that road; I was lucky enough to be blessed with D. But for 2 1/2 years, I was her. I read books and websites about fertility, and infertility. I tried with marginal success to educate my husband on the ins and outs of babymaking (which is slightly more complicated when it isn't working - a little more than, "let's go have sex without birth control"). I hoped, I prayed, I researched and I tried to do everything I possibly could to have a baby.
But more than all that, I felt that desperation, that longing. I felt that overwhelming desire to be a mother, and the paralyzing fear that I wouldn't ever be one. I went up and down the spectrum, from being hopeful and optimistic, to madly researching international adoptions and doing spreadsheets detailing how we'd pay for it. I made lists weighing the pros and cons of spending our hard earned money on the more expensive fertility procedures versus moving straight to adoption, which at least guaranteed a sure thing. And, hardest of all, I contemplated my life with no children. I looked into my future and tried to see a life with no kids, a life where I was not what I always assumed I would be - a mother. That was the hardest of all, to try to view it in order to move a step closer to possibly accepting it.
I was almost moved to tears several times during the course of the movie. At their first meeting, Juno makes a comment to Vanessa along the lines of, "You're lucky this isn't you," referring to her pregnancy. I cringed, outwardly and inwardly. Oh how such a comment would sting! Many an infertile woman has wanted to bang her head against the wall at all the pregnant teens out there, at the unfairness of it all. In a later scene, they meet by chance in the mall and Vanessa is able to feel the baby move for the first time. I'm almost teary now, just thinking about it. Here is a woman who wants nothing more than to be a mother and she is deprived of feeling that miracle grow inside her own body. Yet she's accepted that reality and still wants a baby to raise; and there it is, moving inside another woman's body, responding to her voice.
Sob!
Obviously, my worst fears have not been realized and I've been abundantly blessed with two amazing children. I love them so much my heart aches with it. Being a mother is harder, more challenging, more frustrating and infinitely more wonderful than I ever could have imagined. But my experience with infertility will always be with me, always a part of me. It changed me in some ways, and I don't think I'll ever be quite the same.
Having such an easy time conceiving the second time went amazing lengths to heal my infertility wounds. I never thought I'd be able to see a pregnant woman without feeling that sting of jealousy, even after having D. I was surprised at myself when D was a baby and I still felt that pang of envy upon hearing someone I knew was pregnant. I thought, come on, you HAVE a baby! What more do you want! But it's hard to turn that off; the experience sticks with you and colors how you see things. After I got pregnant with G, (the first month we tried, talk about opposite experience), those feelings dulled so much. Even now, I'm rarely hit by those pangs of jealousy, rarely reminded of the ache of infertility. But this movie brought it all back.
I found myself feeling such a kinship with Vanessa; I felt her pain and understood how hard it would be. I know the longing, the heartache, the pain. I felt it again last night. I didn't expect that, in this movie deemed "hilarious". It was much more than a comedy. It had a big heart and, in my opinion, a pretty neat ending.
I hope young girls see this movie and maybe some will be moved to chose life for their babies, if they're ever in Juno's position. Maybe they'll see what a miracle it is to have a child, even an unplanned one. Maybe they'll be the ones making a dream come true for someone, someone who is a lot like I was four years ago. I hope so. I don't know if this movie was made with that kind of agenda; but the message was still there.
I came home and G had woken up (of course, the one night we're gone he wakes up early). I spent a long time holding and nursing him. And I hugged both my boys extra tight this morning. I'm so freaking lucky! SO lucky!
It's about a high school girl, Juno, who gets pregnant and decides to give the baby up for adoption to Mark and Vanessa, played by Jason Bateman and Jennifer Garner. Because my SIL deemed it "hilarious", I was expecting the funny stuff. Juno's dialogue is really funny; her attitude and mannerisms were great.
What I didn't expect was the rush of emotions it was going to bring up for me. I saw so much of myself in Vanessa; at least myself four years ago. She's a woman who desperately longs for a baby, but for some reason isn't able to have one of her own. She's likely been down the infertility road with no success, and even been burned by another potential adpotion. I never made it that far down that road; I was lucky enough to be blessed with D. But for 2 1/2 years, I was her. I read books and websites about fertility, and infertility. I tried with marginal success to educate my husband on the ins and outs of babymaking (which is slightly more complicated when it isn't working - a little more than, "let's go have sex without birth control"). I hoped, I prayed, I researched and I tried to do everything I possibly could to have a baby.
But more than all that, I felt that desperation, that longing. I felt that overwhelming desire to be a mother, and the paralyzing fear that I wouldn't ever be one. I went up and down the spectrum, from being hopeful and optimistic, to madly researching international adoptions and doing spreadsheets detailing how we'd pay for it. I made lists weighing the pros and cons of spending our hard earned money on the more expensive fertility procedures versus moving straight to adoption, which at least guaranteed a sure thing. And, hardest of all, I contemplated my life with no children. I looked into my future and tried to see a life with no kids, a life where I was not what I always assumed I would be - a mother. That was the hardest of all, to try to view it in order to move a step closer to possibly accepting it.
I was almost moved to tears several times during the course of the movie. At their first meeting, Juno makes a comment to Vanessa along the lines of, "You're lucky this isn't you," referring to her pregnancy. I cringed, outwardly and inwardly. Oh how such a comment would sting! Many an infertile woman has wanted to bang her head against the wall at all the pregnant teens out there, at the unfairness of it all. In a later scene, they meet by chance in the mall and Vanessa is able to feel the baby move for the first time. I'm almost teary now, just thinking about it. Here is a woman who wants nothing more than to be a mother and she is deprived of feeling that miracle grow inside her own body. Yet she's accepted that reality and still wants a baby to raise; and there it is, moving inside another woman's body, responding to her voice.
Sob!
Obviously, my worst fears have not been realized and I've been abundantly blessed with two amazing children. I love them so much my heart aches with it. Being a mother is harder, more challenging, more frustrating and infinitely more wonderful than I ever could have imagined. But my experience with infertility will always be with me, always a part of me. It changed me in some ways, and I don't think I'll ever be quite the same.
Having such an easy time conceiving the second time went amazing lengths to heal my infertility wounds. I never thought I'd be able to see a pregnant woman without feeling that sting of jealousy, even after having D. I was surprised at myself when D was a baby and I still felt that pang of envy upon hearing someone I knew was pregnant. I thought, come on, you HAVE a baby! What more do you want! But it's hard to turn that off; the experience sticks with you and colors how you see things. After I got pregnant with G, (the first month we tried, talk about opposite experience), those feelings dulled so much. Even now, I'm rarely hit by those pangs of jealousy, rarely reminded of the ache of infertility. But this movie brought it all back.
I found myself feeling such a kinship with Vanessa; I felt her pain and understood how hard it would be. I know the longing, the heartache, the pain. I felt it again last night. I didn't expect that, in this movie deemed "hilarious". It was much more than a comedy. It had a big heart and, in my opinion, a pretty neat ending.
I hope young girls see this movie and maybe some will be moved to chose life for their babies, if they're ever in Juno's position. Maybe they'll see what a miracle it is to have a child, even an unplanned one. Maybe they'll be the ones making a dream come true for someone, someone who is a lot like I was four years ago. I hope so. I don't know if this movie was made with that kind of agenda; but the message was still there.
I came home and G had woken up (of course, the one night we're gone he wakes up early). I spent a long time holding and nursing him. And I hugged both my boys extra tight this morning. I'm so freaking lucky! SO lucky!
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
New years resolutions
It seems like almost every year one of my new years resolutions is to lose weight. I must be one of millions to make such a resolution. Sometimes I've even kept it! But in the midst of having babies over the last few years, I've been up and down the scale several times.
I have PCOS and, among other frustrating symptoms, I gain weight. PCOS is one of those really great disorders that bashes you over the head, then kicks you when you're down. It causes everything from weight gain to infertility to excess body hair, male pattern baldness and acne. Gotta love a disorder that not only makes you question your place in the universe as a woman (if you can't have a baby), but also screws with your physical appearance. I'm one of the lucky ones, in that my symptoms are fairly mild and I don't have problems with some of the worst ones. I don't lose my hair, or grow much where I shouldn't. I have been able to have kids, although D was 2 1/2 years in the making. And I do struggle with my weight, but not to the extent a lot of my PCOS friends do.
I was a skinny teenager (oh for that body again!), but in my late teens I started gaining. I went years not knowing I had PCOS, and not understanding the reasons behind my weight gain; or why the things I tried to lose weight never worked. I didn't get the whole carb-insulin-weight connection. Once I figured that out, I was able to successfully lose weight. Early in 2004 I dropped 20lbs. Then I got pregnant with D and put on, well, way too much. I lost weight again after he was born, getting down to about 132-133 before getting pregnant with G. Of course, I did get pg again, and I can't seem to do pregnancy without gaining at least 50lbs. Bleh.
I'm still carrying around a good 20lbs that I don't need. I was doing pretty good losing weight, but I lost momentum a few months ago. I've maintained since then, which is good, but not good enough. It's tough, since I'm nursing and my body isn't excited about lowering my calorie intake, even a little. Because of nursing, I can eat quite a bit and lose, but it's this mental battle with myself all day long. Hunger is a powerful sensation; it's very hard to ignore. And when you're always slightly sleep deprived, it's that much harder. I find my level of motivation is directly correlated to the amount of sleep I get.
So here I am on yet another January 1st and I'm resolving to lose weight. But this year, my resolution has a bit of a twist. I resolve that next January 1st, my resolution WILL NOT be to lose weight.
My weight loss goal for this year - lose 20lbs by G's birthday in May.
That means I need to do a serious goodie purge tonight. There's so much chocolate in my house every PMSing woman in a 5 mile radius can probably sense it.
I have PCOS and, among other frustrating symptoms, I gain weight. PCOS is one of those really great disorders that bashes you over the head, then kicks you when you're down. It causes everything from weight gain to infertility to excess body hair, male pattern baldness and acne. Gotta love a disorder that not only makes you question your place in the universe as a woman (if you can't have a baby), but also screws with your physical appearance. I'm one of the lucky ones, in that my symptoms are fairly mild and I don't have problems with some of the worst ones. I don't lose my hair, or grow much where I shouldn't. I have been able to have kids, although D was 2 1/2 years in the making. And I do struggle with my weight, but not to the extent a lot of my PCOS friends do.
I was a skinny teenager (oh for that body again!), but in my late teens I started gaining. I went years not knowing I had PCOS, and not understanding the reasons behind my weight gain; or why the things I tried to lose weight never worked. I didn't get the whole carb-insulin-weight connection. Once I figured that out, I was able to successfully lose weight. Early in 2004 I dropped 20lbs. Then I got pregnant with D and put on, well, way too much. I lost weight again after he was born, getting down to about 132-133 before getting pregnant with G. Of course, I did get pg again, and I can't seem to do pregnancy without gaining at least 50lbs. Bleh.
I'm still carrying around a good 20lbs that I don't need. I was doing pretty good losing weight, but I lost momentum a few months ago. I've maintained since then, which is good, but not good enough. It's tough, since I'm nursing and my body isn't excited about lowering my calorie intake, even a little. Because of nursing, I can eat quite a bit and lose, but it's this mental battle with myself all day long. Hunger is a powerful sensation; it's very hard to ignore. And when you're always slightly sleep deprived, it's that much harder. I find my level of motivation is directly correlated to the amount of sleep I get.
So here I am on yet another January 1st and I'm resolving to lose weight. But this year, my resolution has a bit of a twist. I resolve that next January 1st, my resolution WILL NOT be to lose weight.
My weight loss goal for this year - lose 20lbs by G's birthday in May.
That means I need to do a serious goodie purge tonight. There's so much chocolate in my house every PMSing woman in a 5 mile radius can probably sense it.
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