Confession: Labor and Nursing May Not Go As Smoothly As You Expect

The go-to book for pregnant moms for a decade has been What To Expect When You’re Expecting.  I had it in my newly created parenting library during the years that I was producing children.  It is so much fun to try to connect with the development of this little life as it is happening, instead of having to wait until birth day to see what has been cooking inside.

However, one of the drawbacks of this book is that at the same time that it logs day by day the development of your baby, it also logs all of the things that can possibly go wrong.

If you are a mom that dwells on fear, you have to selectively read that book, drawing out the things that spark your imagination and faith, and skipping the parts that provide a feast for your fear.

There are so many great resources out there to help moms-to-be have great experiences with labor and the first days after having a baby.  Some are really helpful.  But some seem like they might have been written by people who don’t walk in the same reality that the rest of us do.  They promise things that I certainly didn’t experience.

My advice for labor is to put together a great plan for the delivery room that helps you be intentional about the experience that you’d like to create, but be willing to set that plan aside if things don’t go as you expected.  The goal of labor (besides having a healthy mom and baby) is to walk out of the delivery room saying, “That was awesome!”  For me, that meant fighting through the pain and fear and not using pain meds.  For others, it means walking in declaring that you’d like to be fully medicated/anesthetized.   For yet others, it means water birth, midwife-led, or home birth.  Whatever the case, remember that not all things go as planned, and emotional flexibility is really important.

And let me also say that for most people, nursing a newborn hurts.  It is valuable, the most natural and healthiest route for your baby (and for the new mom), but it also can be quite painful.  I certainly am not trying to be Debbie Downer, but again, I think that it is important to walk into the process with all of the information possible.  It might be a glorious experience from the first time your baby latches on, but odds are that it will be a bumpy road in the beginning, and that a lactation consultant will be your best friend.  Use their expertise liberally.

It is my opinion that our lives are neither about being perfect, nor avoiding pain at all costs, but about going through it, together, and finding grace for the experience.

(Image courtesy of imagerymajestic found on http://www.freedigitalphotos.net)

Interruption – A Tribute

This week marks 3 huge events in my elder son’s life:  high school graduation, his 18th birthday, and his receipt of Eagle Scout.  I had to stop the progress of my little series on parenting to honor one of my own.

As you might know, years ago I chose to homeschool my kids; therefore, I can speak from first-hand knowledge that this son was a fantastic student.  He is one of those students that never rolled his eyes in complaint about a subject assigned, he didn’t negotiate to get out of school early, he always had a good attitude, and he was very smart.  His main fault when it came to his education process is that he had such a full sense of humor that he was forever making us all laugh.  I can’t imagine school without him interjecting his humor and laughter to our process.

Today this amazing young man turns 18.  He has been one of those kids that makes their parents look amazing.  He converses well with adults, being respectful and articulate.  He is inclusive of younger kids, being willing to step away from the grown-up conversations to help little ones feel special.  He is self-controlled and well-grounded when it comes to his peers, always making the thoughtful, responsible choices.  I couldn’t ask for anything more.

On top of all of that, he has recently earned his Eagle Scout rank in the Boy Scouts.  Some of you may know how difficult and rare this achievement is; but very few of you know how incredibly difficult his journey to this achievement was.  Remembering that we just made a cross-country move, what that meant to his Boy Scout career was that the hours and hours of work that he’d invested towards getting his Eagle project completed in Connecticut was lost. He had to start over in Texas, not just on developing a new project and the myriads of paperwork and decisions necessary to see it through to completion, but also relationally, building respect and trust amongst his peers and their leaders.  Add to all of this that the troop that he joined rarely awards Eagles, and has never, ever awarded one to a transfer scout.  He has had to work and work to get things accomplished, he has had to swallow his pride when he was misunderstood, and has had to stretch himself well-beyond his comfort level to navigate complicated relationships.

With the help of one exceptional scout/friend that committed his time and effort to seeing Josiah succeed, the contributions of those who believed in him and were willing to help fund his project, and his siblings who relentlessly cheered him on, he got all of the requirements necessary checked off yesterday.  His Court of Honor, where he will receive his award, is a few months off, but we in the family are celebrating this accomplishment.

So today, I stop to honor my son as he graduates high school, turns 18, and accomplishes his Eagle Scout rank.  Quite a bit for a day’s work!

 

Confession: I didn’t bond with my baby right away.

As I discussed in my last post, there are myriads of definitions that parents have of what being a parent means.  The more experienced you are at parenting, the more you realized that those definitions typically don’t hold much weight when you’re staring the down the barrel of reality.

As I was talking with a mom-to-be friend of mine, I heard in her words several of the “good mom” statements that I had said myself, before I actually held any of my children.  I thought it would be a good use of time on this site to explore some of the most commonly held expectations and deal with them honestly.

Confession:  I didn’t bond with my baby right away.  Maybe I should restate that:  I loved my daughter immediately, but because of what I’d heard from other parents about the magical, instant connection between mother and child (you know the one…where heaven parts, the angels sing, rainbows descend into the hospital room, the baby looks dreamily in your eyes, and you instantly know what their every need is and how you should respond) didn’t happen with me.  In fact, I must admit that even after a few days of being trained in the arts of nursing, bathing, changing and swaddling this baby, I still brought home a virtual stranger.  I remember looking at my husband with the beginning edges of panic joining with my words as I asked, “What do we do with her now?”

Over time, as I began to be able to read her sounds, create a workable schedule, and learned to appreciate the wonder of who she was, I relaxed and gracefully stepped into the long journey of parenting.

Two and a half years later, when we repeated this process with my son, I found myself crying in my car one evening, terrified by the fact that I didn’t love both of my children at the same time.  At least that was the way it felt.  At times, I resented my new son for infringing on the special times that I was creating with  my daughter, and other times I resented my daughter for stealing time away from the pure joy of caring for my new baby.  I really thought I was either going crazy, or somehow lacked the “mother” gene that I was supposed to have to make room for more than one child.

And what made it worse was that no one around me was talking about this phenomenon. I had no one to either commiserate with me, or put my mind at ease, and no one to tell me that I wasn’t going crazy.  In reality, what I really needed were the magical ingredients of time, fellowship, and sleep.

I can only imagine what it must be like for moms who suffer with postpartum depression, or moms who adopt a child/children that take extra grace to bond with.

We’ve got to take down the walls of perfectionism and isolationism to reveal the healthy and normal varieties of experiences found in bringing our babies home, and rearing them through all kinds of situations.  We’ve got to be willing to be real with those around us so that we destroy the myths of the ideals that we expect.  Sure, there are some absolutely ideal situations that we experience with our families.  Those should be shared freely.  But with equal candor, we need to share the days that we find ourselves at a complete loss, the days spent in tears, and the days that it is only by the grace of God that we don’t climb into our beds, vowing not to get out until the kids are in college!

Confession: I Really Wanted a Son

I was talking with a dear friend who just found out she is pregnant with her first baby.  While she has initiated conversations about child raising in the past, the conversations have just gotten more desperate and specific.  The impending arrival of her bundle has brought a lot of insecurities to the surface.  What I heard in her concerns has been reflected in conversations I’ve had with many others over the years.  There seems to be a pattern of expectations on how the new mom will feel – how the new mom will function.  I thought that I’d do a little series on exposing expectations that we have as parents that aren’t talked about much in the mom circles.  The things that a “perfect” mom wouldn’t feel (or admit to feeling).

The first one:  I’ll be happy with whatever gender my baby has, as long as its healthy.

Beautiful, loving, and gentle sentiment.  To some it may actually be true; however, my guess is that more often than not, we have strong opinions/wishes/hopes of what the make-up of our family will look like.  We certainly wish/hope for healthy children.  And if we’re honest, most of us have hopes about how many we’ll have and what gender they will be.  We need to permission ourselves to have hopes, be disappointed as often as not, and to be honest about it.

So here’s my raw confession:  I really wanted the opposite gender.  I mean, really wanted.  As in, I cried when I heard that I was having a girl.  Sobbed.  I always thought having a son first would set the stage for the perfect family.  My husband would be the world’s best dad to a son, and this perfect boy would step into the natural responsibility of being a great, protective, and comforting big brother.  And then we had our little girl.  Of course, I loved desperately and deeply my daughter when she arrived.  She was an ornament in our lives, and the exact personality and gender that we needed to begin our parenting journey.

Did I learn my lesson?  Of course not!

When I found out that I was pregnant again, I once more had strong opinions about what gender should be next.  This time, I had imagined that having 3 girls would be the perfect family composition.  I was sure of it.  Convinced of it.  I had allowed my imagination to see myself floating through flowery fields with my 3 lovely girls, their golden hair flowing in the wind.  I would dress them alike, teach them the wonderful ways of femininity, and watch them share deep secrets amongst each other.

But a sonogram revealed a little boy’s anatomy which quickly burst my bubble, and had me bursting into tears yet again.

Repeat the scenario 2 years later when I found out that I was pregnant with my second boy.  Seriously, I cried immediately outside of the Dr.’s office after seeing a boy on the sonogram.  Not the pretty, serene crying that sophisticated people call “weeping”.  I grieved.  Ugly crying.

With each birth of these amazing babies, I was instantly smitten.  I was able to step back and bask in God’s wisdom for my family, snuggling with my three amazing children.  His ability to manage my life was and is indisputable.  They are irreplaceable and forever have my heart.

(When my 4th baby’s gender was identified, I didn’t cry.  That, however, wasn’t because I’d matured and had learned to control my expectations, but because I actually desired the gender that I was getting!  My eldest daughter had prayed for a baby sister, and when I turned up pregnant, I knew that we HAD to have a girl for her desires to be fulfilled.  When the Dr. told us that we were actually having a girl, I wasn’t sure how to respond.  I’d not once gone into a gender-revealing sonogram appointment and left with my expectations fulfilled!)

I’ll have to let someone else speak who has adopted children, but I’m sure there is an aspect of this to which you can identify.  I’ve seen and heard enough to know that not all things go as planned in the adoption process!

I felt like it was important to get out on the blogging world that it is normal to have hopes and wishes of what our family will look like.  It doesn’t disqualify us from being parents, nor does it diminish our ability to nurture and love these little offspring.  If you are a natural planner who likes things in order, there are a lot of things in your parenting journey that you will have opinions about, but that won’t be in your control.  We all have to learn that it is completely OK to have opinions, and it is also healthy to relax in His wisdom for the things we can’t control.

Recipe – Lemon Drizzle Cake

I haven’t shared a recipe in so long on this blog because there is such access to great recipes via the internet, especially on Pinterest.  However, since I found this recipe and had to convert it from metric measurements, I figure that it is pretty safe that it hasn’t hit every kitchen in America yet.  It was one of those afterthoughts to a great meal that I made, but ended up taking center stage in both our tastebuds and memories.  I hope that you get a chance to try it, and end up loving it!

Lemon Drizzle Cake

8 T. butter (1 stick)
1 cup sugar, finely ground (meaning that you take regular granulated sugar and process it finer by putting it in a food processor or blender, or coffee grinder)
3 eggs
3 1/2 T fresh lemon juice
1 lemon rind, grated
1 2/3 c. self-rising flour
1/3 cup Almonds ground (You can buy almond ground from Bob’s Mill at most stores, but it is pretty expensive. I ended up putting almonds in our coffee grinder until it formed a powder.)

For the Syrup:
Juice of 1 1/2 lemons
1 cup powdered sugar

For the Glaze:
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1 1/2 cups powdered sugar

Cream together the butter and sugar.  Add the eggs one at a time, and then add in the lemon zest and lemon juice.  In a smaller bowl, blend the flour and the almond flour.  Slowly sift the flour mixture into your bowl and gently blend.  The batter will be on the thick side.  Pour the batter into a loaf pan and bake for 45 – 50 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean.  Leave in the pan until it completely cools.

As it is cooling, mix the ingredients together to make the syrup.  While the cake is cooling, poke small holes in the top and pour the syrup over the cake, trying to aim for the syrup to go into the holes.  (I did this with a wooden skewer to get the holes big enough to take the syrup.)  Continue to let the cake cool.  When it is cooled, mix together the glaze and pour over the top.  As the glaze sets, you can sprinkle the top with extra powdered sugar for a little decoration.

Helping Children with Grief

A new friend of mine told the story of how a wild animal tore through their chicken coop and destroyed 9 of their new chickens.  Nine.  Enough to create havoc in their yard.  Enough to create havoc in their hearts.  And in the middle of this massacre was their 7 year old daughter.  She rescued one survivor, giving it the care that only a child can give.  Only after its wounds were tended did she allow herself to feel the pain of the events.  She allowed herself to grieve the loss, the pain, the violation.

This story sent me to a place of thinking through how we as parents can help our kids through the grieving process.

When my kids were little (probably 5, 6, 8 and 11), we disturbed a nest.  It was sheer accident, in the midst of cleaning out some planters in our backyard.  When the planter was tipped upside down, out tumbled two baby birds.  One died immediately, but the other looked like it could be saved.  We grabbed a towel, and as gingerly as we could, lifted it into the first container we could find.  We set the bowl outside, right by our living room window, and waited.  We willed that  mama bird to return to it.  We saw her on our roof, and while she clearly was watching the baby closely, she didn’t swoop down to help it.  The minutes of watching turned into hours, and still, we sat by our window praying that she would defy the odds and come tend to her baby.

Around 4 hours later, the mama took the risk that we’d been longing for and landed on the container.  She looked over the baby, and then flew off to get food. We sat mesmerized and studied every little movement.  We studied their markings closely, and with the help of the internet, were able to determine that these were mourning doves.  For days and days, this was the focal point of our lives.  We learned that, within the mourning dove species, both the mama AND the papa care for the babies.  With a front row seat, we watched how the baby was fed, we watched how the mom and dad worked together, we saw the baby transform from a little blob of flesh to one with beautiful feathers.  Daily, we thanked God for this National Geographic moment that we were allowed to experience.  Over about 2 weeks, we watched the baby get stronger, practice flapping its wings, step out on the ledge, only to tire and rest once again in the container.  We watched its parents encourage it to be brave enough to try flight.  On the day that it flew for the first time, its mom and dad were on both of our  neighbor’s roofs calling out to it to fly.  We literally had lawn chairs set out, not dreaming of missing one second of this miracle, and cheered loudly as it finally took off.

The first flight was short (about 15 feet), and we actually had to help it back into the container so that our dog couldn’t get to it. Over the next few days, we lovingly watched our baby get stronger and stronger, attempting longer flights. We always kept our eyes on it so that we could retrieve it and protect it from neighborhood animals.  One day, when my eldest and I didn’t find the baby in its container, we scoured the backyard looking for it.  With a little melancholy, believing that our baby had finally flown out of our yard, we walked the backyards of our neighbors to see if we could see where it had ended up.  Without ever finding it, but being satisfied that it had finally become independent, we went back inside.

About an hour later, my eldest walked towards me from the backyard with absolute horror on her face.  She could barely speak as she told me that she saw our dog “playing” with something underneath our trampoline that looked like our baby.  I ran outside praying that she was wrong, only to confirm that our Jack Russell, doing what Jack Russells do, had found the bird. and. killed. it.

As I gathered the kids to tell them the news that I could hardly get out through all of my tears, we all huddled together on the couch, one giant puddle of emotions and agony.  We literally spent hours on the couch crying and grieving.  When the tears were dried up, the kids collectively decided to bury the baby, placing around the grave some of their favorite things.  They came back inside and drew pictures as tribute to the little life that they had loved.

Fast forward about 9 years, and my husband and I make a decision to move across the country.  I now am in the position of helping my kids through the grieving process of leaving their best friends, their areas of comfort and familiarity, and a culture and region of the country that they loved.  There are many ways to describe the process that they’re going through (transitioning, enduring change, learning to integrate), but from what I’ve seen, the easiest way to categorize the process is grieving.  Even if they look great on the outside, there are still areas of loneliness, loss, and hurt that they’re experiencing.

Whether it is over a death of a pet, the process of leaving something familiar and precious, or not getting an award or part they really wanted and worked for, all kids grieve.  There are lots of articles on the internet about the steps of grief, about the process of grieving, and even how to handle those who are grieving, but walking through grief with your kids is a whole other matter.  The rules and tips seem to fall way short when you’re watching your kids cry.

Here is what I’ve done.

The first seems obvious.  Listen.  Take time to give the child your full attention.  As long as it takes, and as often as needed.  I assure them that we can pull aside to talk over and over if they  need it.  I assure them that they are not a burden, their emotions aren’t overwhelming to me, and that I am willing to completely walk through this with them.

Talk through options of how to deal with the situation.  It might be that changes need to be made in routine or schedules.  Ask them what things that you as a family might have stopped doing that would bring them comfort.  If applicable, it might be that they need encouragement to try again, whether that is trying out for a team or an award, or whether that is in the area of friendships.

Often times, kids express grief through wide mood swings.  On a normal day mood swings can be annoying, but especially if you’re struggling with sad feelings.  Often times, grieving doesn’t feel natural to a child because it is difficult to control emotions, thoughts and feelings surrounding the loss.  Especially to a child who is used to feeling in control of themselves, the sense of being out of control that is often a part of grief may frighten some kids.  Pointing this out, talking about the struggles that sadness causes, and giving your kids a safe place to express themselves, is really important.

Create a shared Gratitude Journal.  Reminding kids of what they’re thankful for goes a long way to help them take their eyes off their loss.  In the case of one of my kids, they were carrying a vague feeling of sadness without being able to point to any specific thing.  We began recording 5 things daily for which we were thankful, placing them on each other’s pillows to help celebrate the good things that happened throughout the day.  This helped them to refocus those vague, negative emotions onto the tangible, experienced positive things.

Grief is personal to everyone.  There are no easy answers, and there is certainly not only one correct way to deal with loss.  I hope that these ideas help you provide for your kids a place where they can fully be themselves, at the same time helping them envision a positive future.

20 Things My Kids Should Know About Me (and maybe already do…)

My kids have a friend in CT whose dad just suddenly died of a heart attack – no warning, just gone.  It made me think about what I’d like to have made known to my kids if something happened to me.  I’m not sure I can get through this post without crying, but I think it is important to have thought through the things that are critical to me to have passed on, as well as to leave them with a smile on their face as they remember my silliness, too.  You are welcome to look in on this conversation, but you’ll have to excuse the personal nature of my post today as it will be addressed to my 4 amazing kids.

1. I am WAY more health conscious than I live in reality.  My self-control doesn’t equal my passion for all things healthy.  I hope that I have passed on the knowledge and the passion for what great nutrition can do for your life in spite of the fact that I have fallen so short of implementing these beliefs.

2. On the flip side, I hate to exercise.  Really hate it.  If I get out and actually do it, it is because of sheer belief in it rather than passion for it.  However, in my mind, I am a marathon runner.  What does that say about me?!?

3. Without the socialization of your father, I would not be the person that I am.  His influence has allowed me to keep pace with his endless relational energy, and to be able to communicate to others that I really care and am approachable.

4. What I hear myself saying all of the time is, “That’s good enough,” and yet I really don’t like that about myself.  I wish that I had higher standards.

5.  I feel really confident in 4 things:  parenting, homeschooling, creating memories, and communicating tough concepts. That doesn’t mean I’m really good at them…I just have done them enough that I feel confident in my role.

6. One of the reasons that I feel confident about parenting is because right after I had my first baby, I attached myself to someone who had raised kids that I respected.  I sucked her dry of all of her wisdom and insight.  One of the best things I’ve ever done, and I highly recommend you to do the same when the time comes.

7. If I had more money, besides being radically generous with you kids and with others, I’d dress a lot differently.  My wardrobe reflects that “…it is good enough…” attitude.  If I knew that everyone’s needs/wishes were met, I imagine that I’d have fun picking out a wardrobe that reflects more of my tastes than it reflects being frugal.

8. I have learned to control my external emotions; however, while you don’t see me cry very often, I am really extremely emotional.  There are dozens of times a week that tears come to the surface, only to have me push them down.  It kind of scares me how deeply I feel.

9. You guys know this…I just think it would make you smile to remember if I wasn’t around: I get completely grossed out by watching someone else brush their teeth.  Truth be told, I get grossed out when I brush my own teeth.  Of course I brush, but I consider it a success if I get through the experience without gagging.  It is so bad that I brush  my teeth while I’m in the shower…with my eyes closed. (I am even getting queasy thinking about it as I write…).

10. I want so desperately for you guys to be great best friends.  I imagine (a lot more than you would think) days in the future when we all get together and completely enjoy being in each other’s company.  It is one of my favorite daydreams.

11. I’ve decided that I don’t hate cooking – I just would like it more if I had all of the latest gadgets, the best laid-out kitchen, and the most exotic ingredients. I don’t like having to try to make the same old things taste different every evening.  I’m not very good at that.

12. Nature is a gift to me, and I  am always imagining how to craft our day so that we can be outside.  Having lots of open space helps me think, process and breathe easier.

13.  I am a really good typist.  In fact, if you watch closely during conversations, I often type what is being said.  Subtly, so that no one notices…because that would be really weird to type what people were saying, wouldn’t it? I am also a great speller, but my secret is that I have to type the word to know how they’re spelled.  If you ask me how to spell something, watch closely, because my fingers are moving to help me “visualize” how the word is spelled.

14.  My definition of happiness includes a lot, but the highlights are:  a slight breeze on a 75 degree day on the beach of the ocean, having what I need when I need it, a good book and a fire place, and hearing you guys laugh and having fun together.

15.  I am terribly nostalgic, but I don’t get to indulge in that because it makes me emotional.  And we now know how I feel about showing emotions, huh?

16.  One of the things truly puzzles and grieves me is that I have very few clear memories from my past: childhood, high school, or college.  That is one reason why I scrapbook and intentionally create memories with you guys.  I get to capture memories I want to hold on to, and capture memories I hope that you can remember.

17. There are few things more satisfying to me than editing.  I love the order of it, and how things “magically” jump out at me that are grammatically wrong, or that could simply be said better.  I do, however, have to be careful not to be critical of bad editing in public.  I can be so snarky when I see billboards, signs, or publications that have poor grammar or misspellings.

18. Gardening scratches two itches of mine:  being outside and being productive.  I spend time scheming in my mind how I’ll be able to fit in more veggies and containers in the backyard (and the side of the house, and the front yard, and the neighbors’ yards…).  The process of planting and seeing things grow is only eclipsed by preparing meals from food that I’ve grown.

19. I love your dad deeply, and believe that our commitment and enjoyment of each other makes you guys all the stronger and happier.  Loving him is the best way I can love you guys, and I have worked tirelessly to be able to honestly say that I love him with all of my heart and I am so happy that I married him.

20.  I am unbelievably proud of each of you.  I don’t deserve credit for how great you guys are.  I’m not patient enough.  I’m not creative enough.  I’m not godly enough.  I’m not wise enough.  And yet, He loves me enough that He gave me you.  Mind blowing.  My heart is full with gratitude that I get to be your mom.