Last night, I spent 2 1/2 hours in the middle of the night cleaning up after a sick two year old. Poor sweet Avery threw up five times. Thankfully, it wasn't much each time. She has only thrown up once before, about 3-4 months ago. We were in the car one morning, about to run errands, and this time, it was a terrible mess. She still talks about it ALL THE TIME, definitely traumatized.
As I lay in bed just a few hours ago, half asleep, between her little episodes, I thought about how little of our children's lives are really in our hands. I had no way of stopping her from getting sick (and scared) other than praying that God would soothe her.
We have come to a major decision-making phase in our parenting lately. We need to decide things we've never had to consider so deeply. Emily is officially in her "tweens" (seriously?), and is into things like High School Musical and the Jonas Brothers. We've had to carefully guide her in fondness of these things.
And, here it is, I am going to say it: We are trying to figure out what to do for their schooling next year. This fall, I will have three little ones under three years old. Dear Lord! Homeschooling is just not going to happen. We have enough distractions as it is.
This has been hard on me. Four years ago, I wanted nothing to do with homeschooling Emily. I thought, like most people do, that I could never possibly give her what she needs, or have the patience to do so!
I was wrong. Homeschooling my kids has been the hardest but most rewarding thing I've ever done. I don't always do the best job, I'm sure, but I have had the honor of being with them every single day. I have been there for the aha! moments when they just "get it" with reading or with a math concept. They have grown in their love for each other by learning together. We are a closer-knit family than we would be if we didn't spend so much time together. And I have been able to protect them from more than I'll ever know.
Now, here we are, about to send them out "into the world" for school for the first time. My Emily, the socialite, will love it. But will we love the fact that she's hearing and seeing things that she'd never experience here in our home? And my Kaleb, he's so sweet and innocent still...will it all end when he's "out there"?
Just as I did last night, hoping and praying that Avery wouldn't be sick or afraid, I am learning daily to trust my little ones in God's hands. It's a cliche that has never been so real before. I know that he cares for them on a level that I can't even begin to grasp, why wouldn't I trust that? Still, it's so hard!
It's so much easier when they're in the womb...
Friday, March 13, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Ups and Downs
We've found ourselves in a bit of a roller coaster ride this past week. Not in a dramatic, live or die sort of way. Just in a twilight zone sort of way. The past twelve hours have pretty much summed up the whole week. Let me explain:
A couple of weeks ago, Greg declared it officially spring, and therefore, time for spring cleanup in the yard. We spent two Saturdays attacking our heavily-treed half acre lot (it often seems like several acres), and it was well worth it. After a couple of months of winter (although VERY mild winter compared to what we had each year in Buffalo), the kids spent ALL day outside both weekends, worked their little hearts out helping, and loved it. Ahhh, spring in Virginia...and it wasn't even March.
That's what we thought...
..until last Sunday.
Jack Frost hit our area hard. We hit the grocery store Sunday afternoon, along with every other person in the Richmond area, and fought off crowds for the last gallon of milk. It was insane. We sort of laughed, not knowing what to expect after spending our third winter here and not witnessing more than an inch snowfall.
That night, into the next morning, our house got about eight inches!
The kids spent 48 hours sledding in our backyard, at the sledding hill, cross country skiing, you name it--winter sports galore. The schools were closed Monday through Wednesday, with a two hour delay on Thursday. Holy cow. When it rains, it pours. (Or maybe, when it snows, it...whatever...)
How funny that we had 50 and 60 degree weather on Thursday and Friday.
How crazy that it was in the 80s today. Sweating and dehydrated at the playground, just a few days after our arctic blizzard. Total twilight zone.
I say that the last twelve hours have summed up the roller coaster week because it was an example of our ups and downs smashed into one day:
We spent the night as a family at the home of good friends along with another family. It was great and I may blog about it soon. Anyway, this morning, all of the kids went for a walk up and down the street, the big kids pushing the little ones in strollers (...don't get all worried, if you saw the area you'd understand that I use the term "street" loosely. More like giant driveway...) and all three couples had some quiet time over coffee and banana bread. It was a blissful time that comes along far too rarely. We went to the playground and took the kids out for ICE CREAM instead of lunch (first time ever...definitely not the last).
We got home, dropped everything, Greg worked peacefully outside, and the rest of us took a nap. Then the roller coaster hit its freefall.
We had someone show up to look over our house to give us an estimate on some work, unannounced. It would normally be fine but my house has probably never been messier. I met him in my pj's and messy hair, and then scrambled around trying to straighten up. I threw dinner together, our family ate, Greg took the older two to a basketball game and I cleaned up what appeared to be an entire taco salad and pot of rice from under the dining room table. I took the littlest two upstairs, cleaned out the tub, started running their bath, and Avery appeared next to me. She was holding a wipe and a hunk of poop. Not hers--Levi's. She removed his diaper, tried to wipe him off, and he crawled around, leaving a trail. This all happened in 30 seconds, right behind me! I got that cleaned up, set Levi on the bathroom floor next to the tub, and he peed all over the floor.
Yep, back to reality.
Sadly, the morning of bliss was the true twilight zone time for today, not the crazy few hours I had this evening.
Time for an hour or two for Mommy. I think I'll eat watch a chick flick and wait for the other monsters to arrive so it can all start over again before I hit the sack.
A couple of weeks ago, Greg declared it officially spring, and therefore, time for spring cleanup in the yard. We spent two Saturdays attacking our heavily-treed half acre lot (it often seems like several acres), and it was well worth it. After a couple of months of winter (although VERY mild winter compared to what we had each year in Buffalo), the kids spent ALL day outside both weekends, worked their little hearts out helping, and loved it. Ahhh, spring in Virginia...and it wasn't even March.
That's what we thought...
..until last Sunday.
Jack Frost hit our area hard. We hit the grocery store Sunday afternoon, along with every other person in the Richmond area, and fought off crowds for the last gallon of milk. It was insane. We sort of laughed, not knowing what to expect after spending our third winter here and not witnessing more than an inch snowfall.
That night, into the next morning, our house got about eight inches!
The kids spent 48 hours sledding in our backyard, at the sledding hill, cross country skiing, you name it--winter sports galore. The schools were closed Monday through Wednesday, with a two hour delay on Thursday. Holy cow. When it rains, it pours. (Or maybe, when it snows, it...whatever...)
How funny that we had 50 and 60 degree weather on Thursday and Friday.
How crazy that it was in the 80s today. Sweating and dehydrated at the playground, just a few days after our arctic blizzard. Total twilight zone.
I say that the last twelve hours have summed up the roller coaster week because it was an example of our ups and downs smashed into one day:
We spent the night as a family at the home of good friends along with another family. It was great and I may blog about it soon. Anyway, this morning, all of the kids went for a walk up and down the street, the big kids pushing the little ones in strollers (...don't get all worried, if you saw the area you'd understand that I use the term "street" loosely. More like giant driveway...) and all three couples had some quiet time over coffee and banana bread. It was a blissful time that comes along far too rarely. We went to the playground and took the kids out for ICE CREAM instead of lunch (first time ever...definitely not the last).
We got home, dropped everything, Greg worked peacefully outside, and the rest of us took a nap. Then the roller coaster hit its freefall.
We had someone show up to look over our house to give us an estimate on some work, unannounced. It would normally be fine but my house has probably never been messier. I met him in my pj's and messy hair, and then scrambled around trying to straighten up. I threw dinner together, our family ate, Greg took the older two to a basketball game and I cleaned up what appeared to be an entire taco salad and pot of rice from under the dining room table. I took the littlest two upstairs, cleaned out the tub, started running their bath, and Avery appeared next to me. She was holding a wipe and a hunk of poop. Not hers--Levi's. She removed his diaper, tried to wipe him off, and he crawled around, leaving a trail. This all happened in 30 seconds, right behind me! I got that cleaned up, set Levi on the bathroom floor next to the tub, and he peed all over the floor.
Yep, back to reality.
Sadly, the morning of bliss was the true twilight zone time for today, not the crazy few hours I had this evening.
Time for an hour or two for Mommy. I think I'll eat watch a chick flick and wait for the other monsters to arrive so it can all start over again before I hit the sack.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Ode to midwives
Let me start by saying that some may think this whole idea is a bit fanatical and unnecessary. Fine. To me, it's a huge deal. Say I'm crazy...
In the past three years, my comprehension of childbirth and all of its possibilities has expanded greatly. Somewhere around this week in 2006, Avery was conceived after quite a few unsuccessful months. I started seeing a naturopath doctor after learning that my thyroid hormones could be off, and that a hormone imbalance could certainly be related to infertility. I had also started spending time with a homebirth midwife, something unheard of at the time in my social circle in Western New York.
When I found out I was pregnant with Avery, I was determined that her pregnancy and delivery would be different than my first two. One of these days I will sit down and write out each of my birth stories (I promise myself!), but it would suffice to say that the first two were very medically managed. Some prefer it that way. That's totally fine! But for me, I knew I wanted to fully experience the birth of my third child in a different way than my others.
The plan was to try and have baby #3 at home. The kink in the plan was that we had just moved in with my mom so that we could sell our house and "prepare for whatever was next" (we didn't realize it was Richmond). I spoke with my friend, the homebirth midwife, and was excited but also VERY afraid.
To make a long story short, when I was six months pregnant, we moved to Richmond. (Gosh, I have a great story about God's providence...next posting, I promise...)
I ended up going with a midwife that worked in a brand new hospital where they allowed labor in tubs and everything. My husband, my unborn baby and I all fell in love the moment we met her. She delivered Avery. The birth still wasn't what I "dreamed" it could be, but it was getting closer to the idea.
Then came baby number four...
Levi's pregnancy was pretty easy. I was extremely busy with homeschooling the oldest two and having an infant/toddler underfoot (Avery was 17 1/2 months old when I had him), and I found solice in books about midwifery. Weird, I know, but I connected with him in a deeper way while he was still on the inside through the experience. Magically, I "got it" while reading these books. I understood what is "supposed" to happen to our bodies in childbirth and how these women in remote countries survive birth after birth, far from the nearest epidural. I felt in my spirit that I had the instincts that I needed to deliver.
On April 26, 2008, my opportunity to put all that was in my heart to practice arose.
I labored all night long the night before at home. I slept a little, I walked around, I showered and checked my hospital bag, Greg and I even walked around the neighborhood at 4 am. No big deal. Uncomfortable at most. By mid-morning on the 26th, I knew I was going to the hospital that day. Around noon I needed to stop what I was doing to concentrate through the contractions. Still not to the point where I was screaming in pain or anything. I trusted my body. I trusted the process.
By the time I got to the hospital (I think it was around 2:30?) I had to stop three times between the car and Labor & Delivery for some pretty strong, but not dreadful, contractions.
The contractions got REALLY bad, like to the point of needing SOMETHING, a little after 5:00. Fifteen minutes later I started pushing him out. Badabing, badaboom. No medicine. Just a trust that babies are SUPPOSED to come out and that my body could figure out how to GET him out. That was that.
Okay, I wasn't planning on posting all of this...
But this morning, when I dressed all of my little ones, piled them all into a cold car an pulled them into the hospital, took them by the vending machine for some special pretzels and crackers that would keep them entertained throughout my appointment, lugged them all up to the office on the 6th floor, sat them down on the floor with their goodies and awaited the doctor (not the midwife today, just this once...) to have him come in and say, "Any questions? Nope? Okay, well, take care."
...I remembered how lucky I am to have discovered the gift of midwives. They are passionate about pregnancy. They love to hear and help with minor and major discomforts. They get you excited about the littlest details related to pregnancy. They spend more than 90 seconds in the exam room with you...
They have given me a greater respect for how God created me as a woman. I was born to be a mom. My body was created specifically to conceive, house, and deliver a baby.
I still can't believe I'm doing this all over again...
In the past three years, my comprehension of childbirth and all of its possibilities has expanded greatly. Somewhere around this week in 2006, Avery was conceived after quite a few unsuccessful months. I started seeing a naturopath doctor after learning that my thyroid hormones could be off, and that a hormone imbalance could certainly be related to infertility. I had also started spending time with a homebirth midwife, something unheard of at the time in my social circle in Western New York.
When I found out I was pregnant with Avery, I was determined that her pregnancy and delivery would be different than my first two. One of these days I will sit down and write out each of my birth stories (I promise myself!), but it would suffice to say that the first two were very medically managed. Some prefer it that way. That's totally fine! But for me, I knew I wanted to fully experience the birth of my third child in a different way than my others.
The plan was to try and have baby #3 at home. The kink in the plan was that we had just moved in with my mom so that we could sell our house and "prepare for whatever was next" (we didn't realize it was Richmond). I spoke with my friend, the homebirth midwife, and was excited but also VERY afraid.
To make a long story short, when I was six months pregnant, we moved to Richmond. (Gosh, I have a great story about God's providence...next posting, I promise...)
I ended up going with a midwife that worked in a brand new hospital where they allowed labor in tubs and everything. My husband, my unborn baby and I all fell in love the moment we met her. She delivered Avery. The birth still wasn't what I "dreamed" it could be, but it was getting closer to the idea.
Then came baby number four...
Levi's pregnancy was pretty easy. I was extremely busy with homeschooling the oldest two and having an infant/toddler underfoot (Avery was 17 1/2 months old when I had him), and I found solice in books about midwifery. Weird, I know, but I connected with him in a deeper way while he was still on the inside through the experience. Magically, I "got it" while reading these books. I understood what is "supposed" to happen to our bodies in childbirth and how these women in remote countries survive birth after birth, far from the nearest epidural. I felt in my spirit that I had the instincts that I needed to deliver.
On April 26, 2008, my opportunity to put all that was in my heart to practice arose.
I labored all night long the night before at home. I slept a little, I walked around, I showered and checked my hospital bag, Greg and I even walked around the neighborhood at 4 am. No big deal. Uncomfortable at most. By mid-morning on the 26th, I knew I was going to the hospital that day. Around noon I needed to stop what I was doing to concentrate through the contractions. Still not to the point where I was screaming in pain or anything. I trusted my body. I trusted the process.
By the time I got to the hospital (I think it was around 2:30?) I had to stop three times between the car and Labor & Delivery for some pretty strong, but not dreadful, contractions.
The contractions got REALLY bad, like to the point of needing SOMETHING, a little after 5:00. Fifteen minutes later I started pushing him out. Badabing, badaboom. No medicine. Just a trust that babies are SUPPOSED to come out and that my body could figure out how to GET him out. That was that.
Okay, I wasn't planning on posting all of this...
But this morning, when I dressed all of my little ones, piled them all into a cold car an pulled them into the hospital, took them by the vending machine for some special pretzels and crackers that would keep them entertained throughout my appointment, lugged them all up to the office on the 6th floor, sat them down on the floor with their goodies and awaited the doctor (not the midwife today, just this once...) to have him come in and say, "Any questions? Nope? Okay, well, take care."
...I remembered how lucky I am to have discovered the gift of midwives. They are passionate about pregnancy. They love to hear and help with minor and major discomforts. They get you excited about the littlest details related to pregnancy. They spend more than 90 seconds in the exam room with you...
They have given me a greater respect for how God created me as a woman. I was born to be a mom. My body was created specifically to conceive, house, and deliver a baby.
I still can't believe I'm doing this all over again...
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Amazed...
We did it. We resisted the temptation. Yesterday morning was my 20-week sonogram, the one where we could've found out if we were having another girl or another boy; and we said no.
If you didn't know, there were some minor (but scary) complications at the beginning of this pregnancy. Around week 8, I started bleeding a bit and it didn't stop until week 10 or so. I went in for an ultrasound to see if things were okay, and the perinatologist was not as optimistic as I thought he'd be. I expected to go in and have him look at me like I'm just a paranoid pregnant woman, and tell me to go home and stop worrying; everything looked fine. Instead, he told me that my placenta had been tearing away and reattaching itself, and that oftentimes this means that there is something "wrong" with the baby and this is the body's way of "taking care of things on its own." He said I had a 50/50 chance of miscarrying. Not exactly what I had hoped I'd hear.
Thankfully, right around the same time I started getting miserably nauseous, I stopped bleeding. It seemed as though my body's hormones kicked into high gear to protect the pregnancy, causing the baby to be well but mommy to feel like death. That's okay. It was worth it.
Since that first sonogram, to my delight, I have heard a strong heartbeat at prenatal appointments and have felt lots of action in there.
But yesterday, when the sonogram tech as well as the other perinatologist continually smiled at the screen and said, "What a beautiful, perfect baby..." I still couldn't help but get choked up. All of the fear, all of the anxiety...disappeared. I saw my sweet baby...my sweet surprise baby...and felt myself beaming.
Life truly is amazing...
If you didn't know, there were some minor (but scary) complications at the beginning of this pregnancy. Around week 8, I started bleeding a bit and it didn't stop until week 10 or so. I went in for an ultrasound to see if things were okay, and the perinatologist was not as optimistic as I thought he'd be. I expected to go in and have him look at me like I'm just a paranoid pregnant woman, and tell me to go home and stop worrying; everything looked fine. Instead, he told me that my placenta had been tearing away and reattaching itself, and that oftentimes this means that there is something "wrong" with the baby and this is the body's way of "taking care of things on its own." He said I had a 50/50 chance of miscarrying. Not exactly what I had hoped I'd hear.
Thankfully, right around the same time I started getting miserably nauseous, I stopped bleeding. It seemed as though my body's hormones kicked into high gear to protect the pregnancy, causing the baby to be well but mommy to feel like death. That's okay. It was worth it.
Since that first sonogram, to my delight, I have heard a strong heartbeat at prenatal appointments and have felt lots of action in there.
But yesterday, when the sonogram tech as well as the other perinatologist continually smiled at the screen and said, "What a beautiful, perfect baby..." I still couldn't help but get choked up. All of the fear, all of the anxiety...disappeared. I saw my sweet baby...my sweet surprise baby...and felt myself beaming.
Life truly is amazing...
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
on a lighter, shallower note...
I think that this stage of pregnancy is getting to me. I'm in the middle of the phase where I have a little belly, but a stranger wouldn't be able to tell if it's because of the infant in my arms, a few too many Oreos, or if I was pregnant again. I laughed the other day, trying to figure out what people must be thinking when they look at me. Let's suppose someone saw me in a grocery store with all four of my kids. The littlest two are sometimes mistaken for twins when seated. (I'm not sure how anyone could think that a two year old and a nine month old are twins, but I'll give them the benefit of the doubt since Avery is still challenged in the hair department.) So here I am in a grocery store with lots of kids, two being pretty small, and a slight tummy. Does a stranger think, "That girl just didn't get into shape after those kids...her belly is still big!" Or does a stranger think, "Dear Lord, is she pregnant AGAIN???" (And really, which is worse?)
Not that I really care what strangers think (at least I'm trying not to...see my last post), but I am getting quite bored with my white, pasty, plain-hairstyled, blah self. I need to do something...
I need to start with my hair, and I need suggestions. I'm thinking of going lighter (yes I know I'm not supposed to dye my hair when pregnant, but I figure I'm enough of a freak about organic, all natural stuff anyway...the baby will be okay if I take an hour in a well-ventilated place to make myself prettier) and of doing something fun as far as a cut goes. I'm having a hard time finding ideas.
So what I need are a couple of ideas on color (lighten all over? highlights? will this look weird in the middle of winter/spring on my white self?) and a cut (I currently have awful bangs and need to lift the shoulder length, maybe just layer it up in the back?) Be a friend...Help!
Not that I really care what strangers think (at least I'm trying not to...see my last post), but I am getting quite bored with my white, pasty, plain-hairstyled, blah self. I need to do something...
I need to start with my hair, and I need suggestions. I'm thinking of going lighter (yes I know I'm not supposed to dye my hair when pregnant, but I figure I'm enough of a freak about organic, all natural stuff anyway...the baby will be okay if I take an hour in a well-ventilated place to make myself prettier) and of doing something fun as far as a cut goes. I'm having a hard time finding ideas.
So what I need are a couple of ideas on color (lighten all over? highlights? will this look weird in the middle of winter/spring on my white self?) and a cut (I currently have awful bangs and need to lift the shoulder length, maybe just layer it up in the back?) Be a friend...Help!
Monday, February 9, 2009
Perpetual People Pleaser
If you know me at all, you know that what I'm about to say is true:
I have an addiction to trying to please people.
It is why I work my tail off around the house. It is why I am always afraid to ask for help. It is why I have a hard time making a decision myself.
The part of this addiction that is bothering me most recently is that I have a tendency to hurt the ones I love the most in my attempts to please someone else. How many times have I neglected my kids' desire to do something fun, because I want the house to look nice when Greg gets home? How many times have I said something hurtful or embarrassing at my husband's expense when in a crowd of friends? How many times have I sabotaged one of my closest relationships in order to gain the approval of someone whose opinion of me really doesn't matter?
A recent event has slapped me in the face with this reality. I have found myself thinking, "How could I have been so stupid?" The next breath found me asking God, "What can I learn from my stupidity?" The answer I felt? Own up to it, and, obviously, don't do it anymore!
So this is something that I need to own and conquer: I need to beat my people pleasing addiction.
So...if you catch me at it, call me out on it. Remind me that it's dangerous. And if I apologize incessantly, slap me...
I have an addiction to trying to please people.
It is why I work my tail off around the house. It is why I am always afraid to ask for help. It is why I have a hard time making a decision myself.
The part of this addiction that is bothering me most recently is that I have a tendency to hurt the ones I love the most in my attempts to please someone else. How many times have I neglected my kids' desire to do something fun, because I want the house to look nice when Greg gets home? How many times have I said something hurtful or embarrassing at my husband's expense when in a crowd of friends? How many times have I sabotaged one of my closest relationships in order to gain the approval of someone whose opinion of me really doesn't matter?
A recent event has slapped me in the face with this reality. I have found myself thinking, "How could I have been so stupid?" The next breath found me asking God, "What can I learn from my stupidity?" The answer I felt? Own up to it, and, obviously, don't do it anymore!
So this is something that I need to own and conquer: I need to beat my people pleasing addiction.
So...if you catch me at it, call me out on it. Remind me that it's dangerous. And if I apologize incessantly, slap me...
Thursday, February 5, 2009
not doing so well...
It's been a week since I spilled my guts out about all that I want to accomplish these next few months. Well...
This last week has knocked us all for a loop. We have received scary news (don't worry, everyone is well) and have found ourselves in need of some serious faith. The stress level has gone up as a result.
We've also all come down with some nasty cold. Not fun.
Let's put it this way: I've failed in every goal since I put in writing.
On to another week; let's hope this one is better.
This last week has knocked us all for a loop. We have received scary news (don't worry, everyone is well) and have found ourselves in need of some serious faith. The stress level has gone up as a result.
We've also all come down with some nasty cold. Not fun.
Let's put it this way: I've failed in every goal since I put in writing.
On to another week; let's hope this one is better.
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