Sometimes Being A Mom Means Letting Go

That's something I've been working on lately.  And it's not easy for me.
At 7:30 this morning I was outside, in the cold, letting  Georgie jump on the trampoline. Still in her jammies. At 7:30 in the morning!  After about 20 minutes I was finally able to convince her to go inside. Her fingers and nose were bright red.  She was all snotty. But her eyes were bright and happy and she got out some pent up energy. She had fun. She "jumped" (bending her knees and straightening them again, while yelling JUMP!), she ran, she fell, and she giggled. It was fun for her. Truthfully it was fun for me, too. The kid is just too cute of her own good. Jumping on the trampoline at 7:30 in the morning, in jammies, is not something I would normally do. I don't know brought out this little loosening of control this morning but I'm glad I did it.
I've been letting all of the kids do more lately. They all run around and do things with their friends, and enjoy themselves. It's good for them. It's what kids are supposed to do! But it's hard for me sometimes. Especially at a time where I am struggling with where I am. I prefer to have all the kids home. It makes me feel safe and in control to know they're here and we're all together. But I have to remember they're kids. And I'm crazy. My mom put a lot of her crazy on me and I struggle not to do that with my own kids.
I have a countdown on my computer to when Krysty leaves for boot-camp. Maybe I shouldn't. Bur right now it's something I need. It's a reminder that way too soon she will be out in the world and starting her life on her own. It's a way to remind myself that time is precious. It's not always a pleasant reminder. But it is part of letting go. Your oldest child graduating high school and moving on in the world seems like such an abstract thought. Even to me. But it's not. Here and now I am working on letting go of her. Just a little. Her independence is startling sometimes. Isn't that how I raised her to be? I still catch glimpses of my little girl; I still see the child she hasn't entirely grown out of being. Those are more and more rare. More often I see the woman she is becoming. That's scary for me.
I look at Georgiana and wonder how Krystyne is not that age any more. As I watch all of them in their different stages I wonder how we ever got this far.
I still have so far to go. Thankfully there's five of them and maybe by the time Georgiana is where Krystyne is now I may have gotten this whole Mom thing down.

Breastfeeding Struggles

If you know me at all you know that I am an advocate for breastfeeding.  I think it’s fantastic! I hate the way formula is marketed to parents and what little education and help we receive for breastfeeding.  In the beginning breastfeeding is hard and a lot of work. Hell, sometimes that never goes away.  There are a very small percentage of people who truly can not breastfeed or who do not make enough milk – even with the help of all of the different things you can do to increase your supply.  Most of the problem comes in when in the first couple of months you don’t know what the hell you’re doing. You’re sleep deprived, you’re hormonal and you’re convinced you’re going to starve your baby. We all do it. Whether you’ve never put your babe to breast or she’s been attached to your boob since before the placenta was delivered.

Now for the record, not all of my children were breastfed until kindergarten. I’m not that chick. (If you are – Amen to you sista!) Krsyty was breastfed for about a month. No support or education and when I was worried the answer I got was “just give her a bottle, you don’t have to breastfeed her”. Um, ok. I’m 17, that works for me. Allie was born so tiny that she couldn’t use the calories it required to eat, so she was tube fed for more than 2 weeks. I pumped for a while and she ate what I pumped. But truthfully that didn’t last long. With Jane I was 22, had two other kids under 5 and there was zero support or education for me.  I also went back to work when she was 3 weeks old. They are all fine and perfectly functioning. I was formula fed. Although, now that I say that, I’m probably  not proving a very good point!

Fiona took to the breast like a champ! She nursed within minutes of being born and stayed there for almost 2 hours. She was a good, strong and efficient eater. She weaned herself at almost 12 months and went straight to milk. I had a clogged duct twice that never lasted for more than 12 hours. This was a dream! I couldn’t believe how easy it was. I spent my entire pregnancy with Georgiana dreaming about what a wonderful breastfeeding experience we were going to have. Boy was I wrong.

What all the breastfeeding propaganda (yep, I went there. It even feels that way to me sometimes) fails to mention is that sometimes it isn’t you. It’s that little person on the other side of the breast that’s the problem.  Babies are not born to breastfeed. They’re not born to formula feed either. They’re born to eat. That’s what they know. They know they need to eat and it’s our jobs to teach them how that happens. Being a parent does start that early, folks. Getting them to do it doesn’t always work the way we want it to. Yup, rebellion starts that early, too. 

Georgiana is a great baby. A GREAT baby. She has her father’s temperament. She doesn’t get riled easily, she’s not a fussy baby. She is quiet and content most of the time. I keep telling her that she needs to speak up or she’s gonna get left somewhere one day with the size of this bunch.  .

The problem is, she’s a lazy eater. L.A.Z.Y I tell ya! And we have some spit-up issues. And by spit-up issues I mean “holy shit where the hell is all that disgusting stuff coming out of her mouth coming from, I’m not even sure she ate that much, oh damn, now she’s choking” issues. When I took her in for her two week check she hadn’t yet reached her birth weight. Her doctor said to try to increase her feedings and add some pumped milk in to try to fatten her up a bit. She gained but not much. When I went in at my six week check-up she still wasn’t really gaining weight. She’s a slow eater. She falls asleep and stays that way. She only wants to eat so much and eating at the booby is work – did I mention she’s lazy?   We figured that because of how much she was spitting up she just wasn’t keeping the calories in she needed.  Dr. Merrill suggested that I “supplement” at her feedings. He never did say the “F” word, just let me come to that on my own, and I’m thankful for that.  We tried Zantac and that didn’t help. So I decided that splitting her feedings half breast milk/half formula was the best idea. It was giving her the extra calories she obviously wasn’t getting from me while still getting the benefits of the breast milk.  I tried a “gentle” version formula. It was better but could still be improved.  I switched her to a soy version and Holy Mother of God! SUCCESS! Looks like my girl has either a lactose sensitivity like me or a milk protein allergy that she’ll hopefully grow out of. The spitting is still there. After she eats you still have to be careful and whatever you do, do not lay the child flat. We have a weight-check appointment on Wednesday.  Fingers crossed that we see a “good” weight.

So for now I sit attached to this stupid breast pump and feeling like a dairy cow.  Thankfully I found this nifty bra…

Gee, don’t you wish you were me? Hint: I do not look this cheerful while hooked up to this contraption. Just sayin’.

Home Birth vs. Hospital Birth

As it gets closer and closer to my due date we are starting to get things in order.  At some point I have to pull out the infant clothes and wash the tiny diapers. It might be a good idea to order some more snappis, too.  I’ve paid the deposit to our doula. At my next appointment my doctor wants to check my cervix for changes. Baby has dropped. Significantly. 

As we are looking how quickly this is all approaching we are at a point where the “where” of the whole thing is looming before us. And honestly I’m torn. The midwife we’ve chosen is wonderful. But she lives an hour and a half away. North of Seattle, without traffic. Which is fine if I have the good sense to go into labor around midnight.  But truthfully it’s not a big deal when it’s someone I trust and have faith in their experience. Not like I have a plethora of options either. I’ve talked to other midwives and while I’m sure that they’re fine, I haven’t quite gotten that “feeling” with them that I have with her. So I’m willing to accept the travel time and even the possibility of an accidental “unassisted” birth. My doula has been with laboring women almost as long as I’ve been alive so I don’t feel like I would be alone.

I have been adamant that I wanted to have this baby at home. I want to crawl into my bed and pull the covers up and snuggle my husband and our new baby and all my girls all at the same time. I want the sights/sounds/smells of my own home and relax in the familiarity of it all. I want my house and my family all together.

Or do I?

I reluctantly took the hospital tour.  St. Elizabeth’s is a wonderful, brand spanking new, hospital. I’m pretty sure they’re still walking around taking that plastic film-y stuff off of the electronics. They are supportive of natural birth and have never had a ban on VBAC. My doctor lives in town. All things considered it’s really rather nice.  When I was there the nurses were very sweet.  I asked what the average stay was and she said “24-48 hours, depending on your doctor. I know if I had four other kids at home I’d enjoy the quiet time!”. It was cute and jovial and with no malice in it.  I kind of laughed her off and thought of this blissful picture I had of us all puppy piled in my bed while my birth team puttered around the house. 

But the last couple weeks have been rough. I keep hearing that nurse in my head. How nice would it be? Just a day. Maybe two. Just me and Georgiana and Doug. Other people to bring me stuff.  Not feeling like I had to get up and do anything. Time to sleep and nurse and just love on my newest daughter.  Let’s face it, this house and this family are my whole world. This is my stress and my joy. My accomplishments and my failures.  I feel guilty for thinking that at some point my husband might have to leave his wife and daughter and come home to sleep in an empty bed. Is it fair for me to think of this as time for myself.  I’m having a baby, not going to a spa. It’s a hospital not a resort.

On one hand I have my belief that I am having a baby, not sick, so I have no need to go to the hospital.  I have had four children already and two VBACs I can look back and be proud of.  I don’t need to go to the hospital. But am I standing on principle only in this decision? I trust my doctor to be understanding of my desires and to follow my birth plan. I don’t anticipate a fight against interventions. I trust my body to do what it is designed to do. It doesn’t matter if I am at home, in a hospital or on the moon – I am having this baby. Am I looking for a home birth to simply be able to say that I have fought the system and have done it? Malpractice and insurance policies and social conformity be damned? I just don’t know. At this point I think I’m just a crazy person and should probably be committed. (Preferably somewhere sunny, sandy and with a pretty Jose to bring me umbrella drinks.) I don’t have the traumatic c-section stories that I hear. I don’t have a panic-inducing distrust of hospitals as a whole. My c-section was 100% necessary and life saving for Allie. I don’t need to heal from that experience, like so many women I have come in contact with.  My VBAC with Jane was handled horribly and dangerously but we both came out just fine.  I can even put a funny spin on it when necessary.  My VBAC with Fiona was awesome and empowering and while there are a couple things that weren’t “perfect” they aren’t things that I hold any real animosity because of. Could it have been easier? Absolutely. Am I scared or afraid because of what happened? No. I pushed that 9lb 7oz baby out of my vagina without drugs and with limited interventions. I did it and I have that to hold dear.  I don’t live in an area where I will have to fight for every natural, intervention-free moment.  I have support and love that will surround me.

Financially we will come out about the same. It’s either in cash up front to the midwife or in payments to the hospital because of our deductible. Either way the money is spent. It’s just a matter of who I write the check to.

Honestly as I write this I feel like I’m leaning more towards the hospital. That day or so break sounds good. I know what I am like and the responsibility of the house and the family weighs on me.   My mom will be here to visit with the girls and help.  I just don’t know. I guess we’ll wait and see. 

Does anyone have any thoughts?

Not a creature was stirring...

OK maybe one, but with such an exciting day it's hard to go to sleep knowing there's even more to come tomorrow!
The girls started their first day of the 2008-2009 school year today. It was a long summer and quite the build up to the new school year this time. For the first time since Krystyne was in kindergarten the girls have returned to the same school for a second year. Well, except Allie but that's because she's transitioned into middle school. It was exciting to see who was in the same class from last year, what the new teacher(s) was like and all the fun that comes with a new school year. It was great for them to not be the "new kids" - again. There was squeals of delight from Jane when she learned that Abbey was in her class again this year and the best friends had not been separated. And "Mom can you believe it?!?! Danielle and I don't have ONE class together this year! It's not FUNNY!!!" from Krystyne as she learned that she would in fact be separated from her absolute BFF! Allie was thrilled to recognize so many people and to have her friends back. She's rolling in a little less excited but with much more happening.
Allie will be taking middle school by the horns, if somewhat reluctantly. Mom's "1 year of an instrument rule" is not going over well. For Al that means playing the trombone in the school band. Doug keeps trying to explain that the other kids aren't going to make fun of her and there are a LOT more opportunities for trips and missing other classes when you're in band. So far she's not going for it. Since 6th graders can do all of the after-school sports without trying out really, she'll be doing track (starts tomorrow), basketball, volleyball and soccer this year. She's only mildly excited about them. But, this year is the only year that they allow that so it's good exposure. Plus it'll widen her social circle a little bit. I think the key with Al this year will be to keep her active.
Krystyne has already immersed herself in a leadership club. It gives her the opportunity to showcase her bubbly personality and talk the ear off of half the school. LOL. She is also going to find out about softball - since surprising herself that she could actually be good at it since a BBQ game of catch with Doug. She's looking forward to a fun filled year. Like with all of them she is in a transition phase and finding where she fits in. Especially after finding out that she was the product of her mother's very own after school special. She actually took the news of her "genetic differences" in stride and with surprising maturity. Even going so far as deciding to tell her sisters about it herself. The news has definitely strengthened our bond. While we both have our moments I think she recognizes now my push for her to do and see everything she can and to make not only good, but great decisions. Doug's desire to adopt her has also brought them closer together. It was a casual mention that neither are big to talk about. It just is. The offer is there. Nothing more, nothing less. When the time is right for both of them. But I have noticed the most subtle of shifts in their relationship. It makes my heart sing.
Jane is just Jane. Bubbly, exuberant and loving as ever. On her own in the mornings and at school this year she is determined and excited for her new adventure. She is every bit of her worldly 8 years and getting closer to 40 by the day. "THIS year we get to use the electric pencil sharpener - we weren't allowed to do that LAST year". The twelve weeks between second and third grade is a lifetime, a growing time, a time to mature. Most things being punctuated with a flip of her blond hair or a bat of her big blue eyes. Decisions are monumental and could affect the rest of her whole life! Or at least until next week.
Well, I'm off to bed myself. The girls aren't the only ones up at the ungodly crack of dawn.

Luckily Krysty knows how to make coffee.