In which I reveal myself as the terrible person (and hypocrite) that I really am

As you may recall, I’ve complained before about how Gus’s naps and Maggie’s preschool always seem to conflict.  I believe I’ve also mentioned the problem I have many mornings when I drive Nate to work, which is that Gus falls asleep in the car (inevitably within 2 miles of home) and then won’t go back to sleep.  Once he’s good and out, it doesn’t matter how long it’s for; if he wakes up, he thinks he’s had a nap.

Well, today, for once, I was going to get a break.  Due to a convergence of several different coincidences, Gus was going to get the perfect nap schedule in.  First, he woke up earlier than normal, at 7.  This meant he’d be ready for a nap between 9 and 9:30.  Still recovering from my stomach bug, I’m not yet up to driving Nate all the way into work, so instead, I just took him to the bus stop today.  Perfect.  He needed to be at the bus at 9, and the stop is close enough to home that Gus wouldn’t fall asleep in the car, so I knew he’d nap at home.  Hopefully, he’d sleep for a couple of hours, waking around 11, which would make him due for his next nap around 1.  Perfect again.  Maggie’s preschool starts at 12:45, and again, it’s so close to home that he wouldn’t fall asleep in the car.  Then we’d come home, he’d nap again until 3-ish and be up all on his own for us to get her at 3:45.  And I?  I would have 2 or so blissful hours entirely to myself; I can’t even remember the last time that happened.  And after we picked Maggie up, Gus would be due for a final, short nap around 5, which would mean he’d wake up about 6:30.  Again, perfect.  This is the time we need to leave for Maggie’s dance class.

I know it’s trite

But my kids light up my life.  Truly.  Any given day with them must give me a zillion different joys.  Even today, when I’m running a 102 degree fever and battling a terrible stomach bug, they still find ways to delight me.  This list only scratches the surface:

* I woke up earlier than Gus this morning.  About a half an hour after I got up, I tried to sneak into the room for a second.  He was already up and hanging out quietly, but when he turned his head to smile at me in the half light, it was brilliant enough to light up the room.

* I was nursing Gus at nap time, getting ready to put him down.  Maggie knows we have to be quiet during this time.  All of a sudden, the kitchen timer that I had set 45 minutes ago and forgotten about began beeping.  And beeping.  It’s a constant beep.  In horror, I tried to shield Gus’s ears, so he wouldn’t be awakened.  And I looked up, to find Maggie looking at me with a big “oops!” face, covering her mouth with her hand, eyebrows raised.  Such a knowing look, at the same time paired with her silky Ariel jammies, a reallllly badly done ponytail created by Daddy that she insisted on leaving in, and a bright red bow thrown in for some color zip.  It was simply too comical.

* Gus woke up from his first nap just as I got another Urgent Call to the Bathroom.  With no prompting, Maggie ran back into the room to keep him company until I could come get him.  As I sat miserably on the toilet, I still couldn’t help but smile as I heard Maggie, mimicking my own interactions with Gus, saying in this exaggerated baby talk, “Hi, little man!  Aren’t you just so cute?  Yes, you are!  You’re such a Sweet Bo-oy!”  And when I was finally able to get to the bedroom myself, I found her still prattling onto him as he stared up at her in complete awe and worship.  They absolutely adore each other.

* Maggie wanted me to open the curtains, but I said no because the sun comes in really badly and makes it VERY hot in here.  A couple minutes later, she walks over (sad ponytail now gone, but Ariel jammies and bright red bow still in place) and says, “Mommy, I’d like to be warmer.”  And I said, “Well, you could put on some warmer clothes.”  And she shot back with a very patronizing, “Oh no, no, no,” complete with hand waving.  “I believe I need some sunlight.”  How could I say no to that?

* Maggie asked me for something that I can’t even remember now, and I told her no.  So she gave me her favorite retort of lately, “Fine, then, I’m going to go to my room!”  And then she downright STORMED down the hallway, nose held high, arms swinging, hips swaying, feet pounding, while saying to her doll, “C’mon, Baby, let’s go to my room!”  I’m glad her back was turned so she couldn’t see my laughter.  She’s going to be a handful as a teenager!

* Maggie nursing her baby doll, using my Boppy.  She did this a lot when Gus was first born, but hasn’t done it in awhile.  It always warms my heart to see it. 

Not a shining parenting moment

Nate’s still recovering from his cold, so in an effort to help him sleep better, he’s been sleeping in Maggie’s room, and Maggie is sleeping with Gus and me in our bedroom.  I actually love sleeping with her except for one thing: she has a tendency to try to sleep ON me.  I’m a tosser and turner, and this just doesn’t work for me.

So last night, we went to bed at 11 (yeah, yeah…even the kids go to bed late in our house, although 11 is a super early night for me), and I was feeling very tired because I’m getting sick again.  However, I was having insomnia for some unknown reason, and as of midnight or so, I was still awake.  During this hour, Maggie kept scooting on top of me, and I kept moving her back to her side of the bed.  (It’s a king, for heaven’s sake!)  This is not uncommon on nights we bed share, which we’ve been doing a lot of lately since Nate’s surgery.  (He had to sleep alone then to keep anyone from accidentally hitting him in the recovering eye.)  It’s never been a problem.

But last night, around midnight, she started crying.  I knew she was upset that I had moved her and wouldn’t let her snuggle anymore.  At first, I kind of rolled my eyes that she was being melodramatic.  I told her (admittedly not in my nicest voice) to quit crying and go back to sleep.  She was still upset, so I gave in an snuggled her a bit to calm her down because I was afraid she was going to wake Gus, who had already had a difficult time falling asleep.  However, she progressed to hiccupping sobs.  I’ll shamefully admit that I was starting to get angry.  She was totally overreacting, and I was tired, and she was getting really loud.

So finally I said, “Get up and get out of the room.  We can’t wake up Gus.”  And we both got up and came out to the family room, where she continued to sob and refused to actually say anything.  She just cried and cried.  I was still kind of angry, but it’s also hard for me to stay angry when I see her sobbing like that.  Finally, she tells me that she was upset that I “pushed” her.  I explained to her that I just moved her, and we again went over the Reasons Why Mommy Can’t Sleep With Someone on Top of Her.  And even though she said she understood, she was still sobbing. 

And then it all finally made sense:  “Mommy, my ear really hurts.”

Faaaaantastic.  She’s got an ear infection, and here I’ve been mad at her.  Granted, I didn’t know she was hurting (and I’d even asked her earlier if she felt sick because her behavior was so unusual), but still.  So I gave her some ibuprofen for the pain and some Alpha CF (a homeopathic cold/flu remedy that we usually use religiously and with great results when she’s sick, but we’d been lax on this time with our trip to NYC), and actually sent her off to bed with Nate in case she woke up again crying.  Gotta minimize the number of waking babies, ya know? 

Fortunately, this morning she says her ear doesn’t hurt, it just feels “clogged.”  (Although her chin and her legs supposedly do hurt.  Huzzah?)  So I’m hoping her body is fighting it off quickly, but if she’s not better by tomorrow, we’ll go to the doctor.  In the meantime, we’re plugging away with the Alpha CF.  I’m actually feeling most guilty about that.  Normally, I’m very good at giving that to her at the first sign she has a cold, and she hasn’t had an ear infection in the more than 2 years that we’ve been using it.  So I’m feeling bad that forgetting to get her on the Alpha CF sooner is probably what caused this.  And I feel really terrible about snapping at her last night when she was in so much pain – I had my share of ear infections throughout elementary school, and I remember distinctly (almost viscerally) how badly they hurt. 

What was that I was saying just two days ago about my parenting toolbox?  It might be nice if I actually opened the damn thing and used some of the tools every once in awhile…

An interesting perspective on letting babies cry

I really like Gus’s physical therapist.  We’ve been there 3 times (working on the torticollis), and I think she sensed from my cloth diapering and unabashed nursing that I might be a kindred parenting spirit, so our conversations sometimes touch on this ground.  Today, we happened to get onto the topic of what’s often known as “crying it out” or CIO – the philosophy that a baby should simply be left to cry so that he/she learns to self soothe.  Although I’m not as passionately against this as some people I know, and I do believe that some babies need to fuss to settle themselves, letting a baby truly cry (especially a young baby, under 6 months or so) is something I’m not in favor of.  Parents who allow their children to cry to the point of vomiting or wear ear plugs and take sleeping pills to help them ignore the sound make me so sad. 

Anyway, as I said, we got on this topic today, and she made a really interesting point.  I’ve read lots of arguments against CIO, and although I don’t think what she said was particularly new, I liked the way she put it.  She said when her oldest was a baby, people were always telling her she need to let her baby cry.  He’d never learn to sleep, it was good for his lungs, etc.  Then she read something in a magazine that really connected with her, and it does for me too.  Essentially, what it said was, “When you were pregnant, what did you envision?  Watching TV on the couch with your husband while the baby screamed down the hallway?  Or did you envision rocking your baby to sleep?  And 20 years from now, what do you think you’ll want to remember?  Listening to your baby scream down the hallway, or rocking him/her in a chair?”

Don’t get me wrong.  I know parenting isn’t as idyllic as the mental image of a blissful mama rocking her baby to sleep seems.  I know that real life gets in the way.  I know that day-to-day life with a baby who doesn’t sleep well is TOUGH.  (Believe me – I lived it for about a year and a half, and there were days that I couldn’t tell up from down.)  I know that we all have breaking points sometimes.  (There were 2 or 3 times when I tried to let Maggie CIO out of sheer desperation and frustration.) 

But I do think the gist of that comment was really dead on.  Even if life isn’t ideal, that doesn’t mean we can’t strive for the ideal.  There are always exceptions, times when we stray from our own ideals, whether for good reasons or for bad.  We’re only human.  But I need to keep in mind: what was my overall idea of parenting before I had children?  And what do I want to remember about parenting my children when they are grown and have children of their own?  I really think that putting that spin on it will help give me strength during some of those more difficult moments.  And I think it applies to a lot more than just CIO.  It really highlights the fact that the easy thing isn’t always the right thing, especially in parenting.  Our children are only young once, and sometimes we have to make sacrifices for them.

So her point is one I have a feeling I’ll come back to over and over as the years pass by.  It’s another tool in my parenting toolbox.  And boy oh boy, there are some days when I need all the tools I can get!

My friend, my hero

You might not know it, but yesterday something pretty amazing happened.  A dear friend of mine, Kimmi, had a baby.  Now the birth of any baby is amazing and miraculous and wonderful.  But Kimmi’s delivery was extra special.

Kimmi has had four previous C-sections.  FOUR.  Many doctors won’t allow a woman with even one previous C-section to attempt to deliver vaginally.  Almost none would allow it with a woman who had two, let alone three or four.  But Kimmi knew what was important to her, and she knew that she needed to do this on her own.  She also knew that she COULD do it on her own, and that the medical research, no matter how sparse, actually agreed with her.

So Kimmi moved heaven and earth.  She sent tens, if not hundreds, of letters to every doctor and midwife in the area.  Most didn’t even contact her.  Even the home birth midwives, usually much more liberal with their policies, weren’t willing to take such a risk.  But finally, Kimmi found a doctor who also does home births who supported her in her decision. 

And then she had to convince her reluctant husband.  Who loves her and their children very dearly and was simply afraid.  After all, there must be a reason why it was so hard to find someone who would even consider this, right?  But Kimmi persevered, and eventually he relented, even though he still had great reservations.

A little after 2 in the morning on Friday, March 2, a few days past her due date, Kimmi woke up to some intense contractions.  After a few of these, her water broke.  She called her doctor, who immediately came over.  More intense contractions ensued.  She was checked but still only 5 cm.  Still more intense contractions ensued.  And suddenly, she felt the urge to push, although very little time had passed.  Her doctor checked her, and was surprised to find that Kimmi had nothing but a small lip left.  11 minutes later, Kimmi’s new baby girl, Nola Catherine, came screaming and healthy into the world, safe and sound in her own home.  Only 2 hours and 8 minutes had elapsed since that first, painful contraction woke Kimmi up.

Kimmi is my friend, but she is also one of my heroes.  I’ve never met a mom more dedicated to doing what is right for her and her family.  She will research until there is no more research to be done.  Against any odds, she will push to get done what she knows is right.  Everyone should be a little more like Kimmi.  This story in particular, her struggle to have her baby the way she wanted to and the way she knew her body was capable of: it will inspire me until the day I die.

Kimmi, you amaze me.  I’m proud to call you my friend. 

Welcome to the world, Nola Catherine!  You are one lucky little girl.

Editing to add: Here are some of Kimmi’s own posts about this.  I think they are fascinating reading for anyone interested in birth, VBAC, or simply being inspired.

http://she-made-me-do-it.blogspot.com/2007/03/shes-having-baby.html

http://she-made-me-do-it.blogspot.com/2007/03/before-birth.html

http://she-made-me-do-it.blogspot.com/2007/03/but-why-did-you-do-it-at-home.html

Official bullying

Over the last week, I’ve been filling out the zillion or so forms necessary for Maggie to start kindergarten.  (Say wha’?  This could be a very long entry on its own.  In fact, it probably will be eventually.)  Among them is the waiver I must sign because we’ve chosen to decline the varicella and Prevnar vaccines. 

And it pisses me off.

Michigan actually has fairly liberal laws regarding vaccinations.  A parent can decline them for any reason; in many states only religious or medical waivers are allowed.  But based on the paperwork we receive, you’d be hard pressed to know this.  All of them refer to the vaccinations as “mandatory.”  Then somewhere in fine print it will mention that waivers are available.  And then the waiver itself nearly drips with a ”you are an irresponsible parent and a terrible human being” vibe.  In fact, there is a note to school administrators to only give the form out “when necessary.”  Um, excuse me?  It’s not up to the receptionist at the school to decide to give me that form, nor is it her job to counsel me on whether or not I should vaccinate.  It is my legal right to obtain the waiver (and in defense of the schools, both times I’ve needed to request them, no one has hassled me – it’s simply the wording on the form that raises my hackles), and that little notice is unnecessary and clearly only placed there to remind those who receive it that the state disagrees with us. 

What I want to know is, why is it so bad for a parent to make an informed decision?  I don’t think most people who don’t vaccinate do it lightly.  Those who decline them for religious reasons may not have done any significant research, but we (rightfully so) cut people a lot of slack in this country to follow their religious beliefs, no matter how strongly we may disagree with them.  And the people who decline them for medical reasons have almost certainly done research and/or been counseled by their doctors.  (And in any case, there is a separate form for medical waivers that I suspect is less hostile.)  So then what about the rest of us?  The ones who decline for personal reasons?  To be completely honest, I don’t think most people even know they have the right to choose; as I’ve just explained, the forms all make that very unclear.  Most doctors don’t even discuss the issue unless the parents bring it up, and the majority will try to disuade you.  (Which is another vent for another day.)  So for those of who have actually questioned the necessity of some/all vaccines, I can assure you that almost all of us have done significant research.

And not without a lot of teeth gnashing and hair pulling, might I add.  It’s not easy to make a decision that goes so strongly against what is accepted as the norm in our culture, and which many people consider downright irresponsible.  I’ve done lots and lots of research, which is more than most people who choose to ACCEPT the vaccinations can say.  And to be honest, there are other vaccinations I think about declining, but the research isn’t quite as strong for me, so even though my gut is against them, I do them anyway.  I’m too hesitant to rock the boat anymore than I already do. 

So although it doesn’t surprise me, it still makes me angry that after making an informed and difficult decision, there are still so many out there who disrespect my choice.  Who make it more difficult not only for me to exercise my choice, but for others to know that there even IS a choice.  Why is this one of the few things that is almost not even up for rational debate (like breastfeeding or spanking) among mainstream parents?  I am a good parent, and I don’t take this decision lightly.  Let me make it without trying to bully me into submission.

Reflections on an illness

The past several days have been stressful ones.  We were very fortunate that Maggie never had anything more than a mild cold or ear infection until she was nearly 3, so I’ve never experienced the illness of an infant.  And although I think I’ve done a good job of putting on a strong face, inside I was often quaking.  Did I just see a little retraction around his ribs?  He hasn’t eaten in 4 hours, is that OK?  It’s been awhile since his last wet diaper, is he getting dehydrated?  Does his cough sound worse right now?  Was that a wheeze I just heard?  Is he spiking a fever again?  Is he throwing up too much?  Every little question filled me with fear. 

And beyond that, there were the simply difficult things.  He’s bitten me often when I tried to nurse him due to the pain in his ear.  Breathing treatments are a huge chore that he often screams through.  Even though the pink amoxicillin tastes good, he doesn’t recognize that yet, and he spits it out little by little.  He gets a HUGE dose (a full teaspoon 3 times per day), so it takes forever to squirt in amounts small enough that he can’t easily spit them out, and I’d guess he’s still lucky to get half of the full dose.  Although I do my best to wipe away the parts he spits out before it hits his clothes, it inevitably does.  And even if I were to be 100% successful in this pursuit, any little spit up (of which he has many) is tinged with pink.  Then there are the not-so-little spit ups: he’s had a few HUGE vomiting episodes with this illness.  And the poops, oh the poops!  I do believe the stench of them has seared off most of my nose hairs.

But then.

Then he settles in for a long, hungry nursing session and falls asleep.  When I pick him up to take him to bed, he grins in his sleep, letting a little dribble of milk roll down his cheek.  As I move him up to my shoulder and lay my cheek against his temple, there is no heat.  I can no longer hear a deep rattle from his chest.

And I know he will be OK, and that every last little annoyance is worth it to have my son healthy and happy again.