This past February I embarked on a pretty intense weight loss adventure, and I had some real success. I didn't reach the long term goal I set for myself, but after 6 months and losing 45 pounds I needed to take a break (mentally, physically and financially, as I was on a program that required purchasing food). It wasn't long after I'd ventured back into the real food world that I found out I was pregnant. At that point I'd gained 5 pounds back, which I'd been told to expect as part of the process of adjusting to higher caloric intake again.
I felt great going into the pregnancy an entire 40 pounds lighter than when I'd begun my pregnancy with Ella, but by the time I was 11 weeks pregnant I'd gained 20 pounds. Talk about bursting my bubble. I could not figure out why on earth my body was gaining so quickly with this pregnancy- I only gained 15 pounds total with Ella, and all in the second and third trimesters. Of course, hindsight tells me now that the reason I was gaining was because I was happily giving in to any craving that would help soothe the nausea (which meant a whole lot of starchy, bland foods) but my body wasn't burning extra calories because I'd lost the baby early in the process. So, feeding a hormonally pregnant body that isn't actually burning calories like a truly pregnant body is, in a word, a disaster. Instead of feeding a calorie burning, baby making machine, it was more like 11 weeks of feeding my body carbs while it was chock full of PMS hormones. And we all know how easy it is for our bodies to wreak havoc during "that time."
So, along with the loss of my baby, I have this constant reminder in the form of 20 excess pounds. Not to mention, it's the holidays and I am avoiding the scale like the plague because I have a sneaking suspicion that the grief eating I was doing after the baby (not to a crazy extent, but I'll be honest- ordering a pizza was much easier than cooking when I was working through the initial grief process) coupled with the almost immediate launch into the holiday season has me worried it could be more than 20 pounds by now.
And I could just cry. Weight loss has never been easy for me. I WISH I could be one of those people who drops their Pepsi habit and loses 40 pounds in two months. But I don't have any habits like that to drop, and in order for me to see any actual loss on the scale requires some serious, long term low-cal eating. We're talking 1,200-1,500 calories a day, for MONTHS. It's not something I can commit to right now, either, because we're still hoping to grow our family soon. And that requires me growing as well. The thought just about bowls me over when I think about all of the hard work I put into losing 45 pounds- and it could literally mean nothing in terms of weight within the next few months. SIX MONTHS of eating 1,200 calories a day, only to see it all come back within a year.
I guess I'm writing this because I feel this inexplicable need to explain myself to someone. My weight loss was obvious- people notice when you lose 45 pounds. And people were cheering me on. Now, I feel like a walking failure. Even the people that know about the miscarriage might not really connect the weight gain to it. I can hardly spend time with people anymore without this constant voice in the back of my head telling me that they have got to be thinking I really flubbed things up. I know it doesn't matter to anyone else as much as it does to me, but I'm not one to take failure lightly, even when it's not my fault.
I also don't like feeling this way. My body feels big again. I'm surprised that I put up with it for as long as I did, because I'm not even as heavy as I was when I started losing weight last February but even at this size I cannot stand my body. It's awkward, hard to dress, tired more often, and everything is a tighter squeeze. I also have that all over feeling of puffiness, like a blimp. I really am resolved to lose this weight again, but the wait is really frustrating.
My husband (who is wonderful in a thousand ways) says he can hardly notice a difference. Of course, he said that even at my heaviest weight. It's kind of sweet but also kind of discouraging. I mean, when he tells me I look as good as when we got married, all I can think is, "Did I really look this bad when we got married? Because I would feel like a hippo trying to stuff this body into a cute little wedding dress right now." I can't tell if it's supposed to be a compliment for my body now, or a major insult to my body then. Of course, I know that he means it in a good way... but leave it to my mind to twist it around. I think I'd rather hear that my weight gain is somewhat noticeable than not at all. I sure would hate to think that I look the same 30 or 40 pounds lighter than I am now, so it has to be a two-way street.
I don't know. I don't even know why I'm writing about this, if not for my need to just get it off my chest and have SOMEONE know and understand that this is not the result of a total lack of discipline and love for truffles. And also, because writing about it makes it real, which means writing about my resolve to lose this weight again makes THAT real as well. It might not be right away. I hope to spend a good portion of the next year growing a healthy baby, which is far more important to me right now than my looks.
Basically, I have to surrender to the idea that my brief glimpse at serious weight loss was just that- a glimpse- and not a long term option at this point. Gee, my body (and my wallet) are SO thrilled about that. But a woman's birthing years are just not a great time to focus on losing weight. They're just not. I refuse to be one of those women who just gives up and lets myself go, but on the other hand, I have to give myself room to live in real life. And real life is about loss and gain, both of which I've experienced in more ways than one over the past year. So, I resolve more than anything to have grace for myself, to try not to care what others think, and to focus on my family more than myself, even at the expense of my body image. While others are likely resolving to lose weight, I'll resolve to be content, be patient, be kind to myself. I hope that doesn't make me sound weak, or like I'm making excuses. But I'd rather make a resolution I can keep, and at this point, that's the best I can do. There will be a year that my resolution to reach my goal weight WILL be achieved. I truly believe that, and I know I can do it. But it's not this year, and I have to be ok with that.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Islands
It's been three weeks and two days since I took the pill that finished the process. I found out that my prescription HAD been called in, but to a different pharmacy. It was a random mistake on the part of my midwife's assistant, and it made me feel a little better knowing they hadn't realized they made an error, and therefore didn't realize they needed to call me back. It's a pretty bizarre mistake to make, calling the wrong pharmacy, but I have a lot more grace for an honest mistake rather than blatant disrespect. It made me feel a little guilty for being so indignant about the whole thing. The information I'd researched that had led me to question my midwife also turned out to be inapplicable to my particular situation, and her advice had indeed been sound. I overreacted. I wish I'd had the info up front so I wouldn't have felt driven to research on my own, but I digress.
It's weird- a friend had told me that there are stages to grief, and that I should be kind to myself during the process. I didn't really get the stages of grief thing until now, when I can look back and see the changes I've already gone through in the past few weeks. When I last wrote, I felt so incredibly fragile, like porcelain. I felt it was the job of everyone around me to treat me with care and caution, and I would get so incredibly indignant if anyone dared say or do anything even slightly insensitive. It must have been a stage of grief, like my friend had said, because normally I am not that person. I usually go out of the way to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, even when it truly isn't deserved. Something just snapped, though, and I felt like everyone owed it to me to be gentle and kind. I mean, who on earth would have the gall to step on the toes of a grieving mother? And truly, it would have been nice if the situation with my midwife hadn't happened, and I am still unimpressed with the way things were handled all around, but I am a little embarrassed at the uproar it caused in me. Then again, that is where the second part of my friend's advice comes into play... be kind to myself; it's a delicate season.
I hope that we'll be blessed with another child soon. I ache for it, and especially after our loss, it feels like something is missing from our family. I know that our next baby will not be a replacement, and our loss is not diminished, but my dreams of a large, bustling family still well up inside me and I feel this ache for more. More than what we have, more than where we are. It's not that I'm not satisfied or content, but it's just... incomplete. There is joy in the journey, so I don't discount these days of baby makes three. Our little family is precious, and I savor each and every day with Ella, even more now especially. As strange as it seems, I've found comfort in knowing that I have a little more time to relish in her before our family grows. I DO NOT mean to say it was a good thing- this loss- or that I'm glad it happened; I just choose to look at the bright side of life and see my half full glass and this is one way my glass is feeling full right now, this idea that I've got a little more time with my girl before things change forever. It's a strange dichotomy- this ache for more, mixed with this ache for the here and now to just stay forever and nothing to change. I can't explain it. It's illogical, I know, but it's here just the same, twisting and twirling in my head at all times.
I don't want my life to be defined by loss. I don't want my words and thoughts to reflect a pained life. My life is blessed. My God is good. My family is precious. I don't even want to give any more words to it tonight. I want to share about here and now. I want to share about the child that runs through my house, shrieking with delight, coloring on her arms with green marker when I'm not looking, asking me for candy for breakfast. I want to find a place in my life for this loss to exist without taking up too much or not enough space, and without any room for me to feel guilty for giving it too much or not enough space. I haven't found it yet- the place for this loss- and I wonder if I ever will.
But my gain... my child... my daughter, Ella. Who could ask for anything more? Has there ever been a child so smart, so beautiful, so wonderful? To me, she is the greatest thing to walk this earth. And she's growing so fast. Last week, while laying in bed with Stephen and I, she says to me, "Mommy BIG." Of course, it's always delightful to hear of my girth, so I said, "Gee, thanks, Ella." Then, "Daddy big too." Daddy mumbles in agreement. Ella says, "I getting stronger everyday... Ellie!" Smart cookie, that one. I was relieved that she had been talking about my adulthood and not my waistline, as well. And then, the other day, she told her Nana that she was too old to watch a certain cartoon. "No, Nana, I too old." WHAT?! Since when?! And since when do you even know what too old IS? My baby is growing, and she's doing it fast.
Ella likes to ask me for things constantly. She's, well, she's needy. She always thinks if she asks me for something in a high pitched voice, I'll give in to her cuteness. "Mama, I have chocolate milk?" she squeaks with wide eyes and a soft smile, and honestly, it can be hard to resist. I understand now, those moms that want to give their kids everything. I know that giving your child everything they want is a surefire formula for creating your very own Veruca Salt, so I say my share of "No," but I now know the internal battle of wanting to create happiness for your child. There are few things more delightful than bringing joy to those you love, and I am so glad that my little Joy has the same zeal and excitement for life that I do.
I had a little shock to my system, though, when we had friends stay with us last week. It was so much fun- my best friend, her husband and their 2 year old son spent an entire week with us! But I quickly realized that Ella has a serious case of "only child" syndrome. This was HER house, he was playing with HER toys, and it shook her to the core. I could not believe that my sweet, intelligent child was hitting and screaming and refusing to share. I guess I was naive, thinking it'd be easy for her, but she's never been in that situation before and I just assumed she'd take it in stride. BIG mistake. I felt bad for her, though. I know her reaction was wrong, and I definitely had to play "disciplinary mom" more that week than probably the rest of her entire life thus far, but I could sense panic in her at times. This thought that everything was changed and her life wouldn't be the same again. I don't think she could grasp that it was temporary, and she must have been completely thrown by the thought of sharing our home with three other people. Chalk that one up to "things every parent finds out after their first experience with house guests." She did adjust fairly well, and by the end of the week, she'd gotten into a good groove.
Even though the week was chalk full of fun outings, some of my favorite moments were sipping coffee on the couch with Crystal, as we watched the kids play... feeding them lunch, putting them down for their naps, and then talking, laughing, watching chick flicks... moments I will relish forever! The absolute bliss of inviting someone into the routine of my life, sharing moments that are as familiar to me as my own skin- the warm coffee in my yellow mugs, the smell of my apple cinnamon candles, the way the sunlight hits the color on the autumn leaves outside my front windows, the simplicity of my everyday life- these are things I rarely share with anyone and it was a gift to share these times with a friend who knows me so well but doesn't get to live these day to day moments with me anymore.
I know I said I wasn't going to talk about it anymore tonight, but I just want to say this: I am amazed at the ability of life to just go on. Even in loss and pain, God brings joy and comfort in visits from friends and warm cups of coffee, things that would have seemed small but suddenly become very important. My neighbor Ellen shared about a rough season in her life, and she said she found comfort in what she called "islands"... small things like a phone call, a good meal, a new dress... she would crawl up onto these islands and the brief pleasures would give her the strength to dive back in and keep treading water. When she shared this with me, it was like she was reading my mind, because I have been absolutely CLINGING to these little moments that infuse me with strength and hope. Eventually, I think you stay on one of the islands until life's next storm, and I feel like I've found mine, at least for now. The initial sting is gone, and the ache is finding its home in my body, slowly but surely. It won't leave, of that I'm sure, but I think it will settle and find its balance. As Ellie said, "I getting stronger every day!" and it's true- I AM getting stronger every day. I am proceeding with caution, but the point is I am proceeding.
It's weird- a friend had told me that there are stages to grief, and that I should be kind to myself during the process. I didn't really get the stages of grief thing until now, when I can look back and see the changes I've already gone through in the past few weeks. When I last wrote, I felt so incredibly fragile, like porcelain. I felt it was the job of everyone around me to treat me with care and caution, and I would get so incredibly indignant if anyone dared say or do anything even slightly insensitive. It must have been a stage of grief, like my friend had said, because normally I am not that person. I usually go out of the way to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, even when it truly isn't deserved. Something just snapped, though, and I felt like everyone owed it to me to be gentle and kind. I mean, who on earth would have the gall to step on the toes of a grieving mother? And truly, it would have been nice if the situation with my midwife hadn't happened, and I am still unimpressed with the way things were handled all around, but I am a little embarrassed at the uproar it caused in me. Then again, that is where the second part of my friend's advice comes into play... be kind to myself; it's a delicate season.
I hope that we'll be blessed with another child soon. I ache for it, and especially after our loss, it feels like something is missing from our family. I know that our next baby will not be a replacement, and our loss is not diminished, but my dreams of a large, bustling family still well up inside me and I feel this ache for more. More than what we have, more than where we are. It's not that I'm not satisfied or content, but it's just... incomplete. There is joy in the journey, so I don't discount these days of baby makes three. Our little family is precious, and I savor each and every day with Ella, even more now especially. As strange as it seems, I've found comfort in knowing that I have a little more time to relish in her before our family grows. I DO NOT mean to say it was a good thing- this loss- or that I'm glad it happened; I just choose to look at the bright side of life and see my half full glass and this is one way my glass is feeling full right now, this idea that I've got a little more time with my girl before things change forever. It's a strange dichotomy- this ache for more, mixed with this ache for the here and now to just stay forever and nothing to change. I can't explain it. It's illogical, I know, but it's here just the same, twisting and twirling in my head at all times.
I don't want my life to be defined by loss. I don't want my words and thoughts to reflect a pained life. My life is blessed. My God is good. My family is precious. I don't even want to give any more words to it tonight. I want to share about here and now. I want to share about the child that runs through my house, shrieking with delight, coloring on her arms with green marker when I'm not looking, asking me for candy for breakfast. I want to find a place in my life for this loss to exist without taking up too much or not enough space, and without any room for me to feel guilty for giving it too much or not enough space. I haven't found it yet- the place for this loss- and I wonder if I ever will.
But my gain... my child... my daughter, Ella. Who could ask for anything more? Has there ever been a child so smart, so beautiful, so wonderful? To me, she is the greatest thing to walk this earth. And she's growing so fast. Last week, while laying in bed with Stephen and I, she says to me, "Mommy BIG." Of course, it's always delightful to hear of my girth, so I said, "Gee, thanks, Ella." Then, "Daddy big too." Daddy mumbles in agreement. Ella says, "I getting stronger everyday... Ellie!" Smart cookie, that one. I was relieved that she had been talking about my adulthood and not my waistline, as well. And then, the other day, she told her Nana that she was too old to watch a certain cartoon. "No, Nana, I too old." WHAT?! Since when?! And since when do you even know what too old IS? My baby is growing, and she's doing it fast.
Ella likes to ask me for things constantly. She's, well, she's needy. She always thinks if she asks me for something in a high pitched voice, I'll give in to her cuteness. "Mama, I have chocolate milk?" she squeaks with wide eyes and a soft smile, and honestly, it can be hard to resist. I understand now, those moms that want to give their kids everything. I know that giving your child everything they want is a surefire formula for creating your very own Veruca Salt, so I say my share of "No," but I now know the internal battle of wanting to create happiness for your child. There are few things more delightful than bringing joy to those you love, and I am so glad that my little Joy has the same zeal and excitement for life that I do.
I had a little shock to my system, though, when we had friends stay with us last week. It was so much fun- my best friend, her husband and their 2 year old son spent an entire week with us! But I quickly realized that Ella has a serious case of "only child" syndrome. This was HER house, he was playing with HER toys, and it shook her to the core. I could not believe that my sweet, intelligent child was hitting and screaming and refusing to share. I guess I was naive, thinking it'd be easy for her, but she's never been in that situation before and I just assumed she'd take it in stride. BIG mistake. I felt bad for her, though. I know her reaction was wrong, and I definitely had to play "disciplinary mom" more that week than probably the rest of her entire life thus far, but I could sense panic in her at times. This thought that everything was changed and her life wouldn't be the same again. I don't think she could grasp that it was temporary, and she must have been completely thrown by the thought of sharing our home with three other people. Chalk that one up to "things every parent finds out after their first experience with house guests." She did adjust fairly well, and by the end of the week, she'd gotten into a good groove.
Even though the week was chalk full of fun outings, some of my favorite moments were sipping coffee on the couch with Crystal, as we watched the kids play... feeding them lunch, putting them down for their naps, and then talking, laughing, watching chick flicks... moments I will relish forever! The absolute bliss of inviting someone into the routine of my life, sharing moments that are as familiar to me as my own skin- the warm coffee in my yellow mugs, the smell of my apple cinnamon candles, the way the sunlight hits the color on the autumn leaves outside my front windows, the simplicity of my everyday life- these are things I rarely share with anyone and it was a gift to share these times with a friend who knows me so well but doesn't get to live these day to day moments with me anymore.
I know I said I wasn't going to talk about it anymore tonight, but I just want to say this: I am amazed at the ability of life to just go on. Even in loss and pain, God brings joy and comfort in visits from friends and warm cups of coffee, things that would have seemed small but suddenly become very important. My neighbor Ellen shared about a rough season in her life, and she said she found comfort in what she called "islands"... small things like a phone call, a good meal, a new dress... she would crawl up onto these islands and the brief pleasures would give her the strength to dive back in and keep treading water. When she shared this with me, it was like she was reading my mind, because I have been absolutely CLINGING to these little moments that infuse me with strength and hope. Eventually, I think you stay on one of the islands until life's next storm, and I feel like I've found mine, at least for now. The initial sting is gone, and the ache is finding its home in my body, slowly but surely. It won't leave, of that I'm sure, but I think it will settle and find its balance. As Ellie said, "I getting stronger every day!" and it's true- I AM getting stronger every day. I am proceeding with caution, but the point is I am proceeding.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Dignity
I am not naive enough to think that I am the only patient at my clinic, or the only person in the world to be dealing with a loss. I am not expecting fanfare or parades, weeping crowds on my doorstep, checks in the mail. But I did expect to be treated with more dignity during this process, and I'm incredibly frustrated at the way this is playing out.
My blood was drawn at the doctor's office, after seeing an empty womb and hearing the worst words I'd ever heard in my life. My midwife told me to come back in to the hospital on Friday for another blood test, to confirm I hadn't conceived again before they gave me the medication that would make this all final. Because my body, which can't seem to do anything conventionally when it comes to reproductivity, is having something called a "missed miscarriage" or an "incomplete miscarriage", which means that the baby passed away inside me but my body is not passing it. Strange that my mind is having a somewhat easier time coping with this than my body: I want this to be over but it's still holding on. But that's a psychological issue that I'm not interested in exploring right now.
Of course, the blood test just had to be on a Friday, which means a long weekend waiting for results... knowing it won't likely be good news, but hoping anyway. Monday finally came and... no phone call. After debating for hours whether I should "inconvenience" the office with a call, I decided that my peace of mind was worth the risk and I called, only to learn that my midwife doesn't work on Mondays. GEE... thanks for the heads up. Early Tuesday, I got the call that I was dreading but anxiously awaiting nonetheless. There is no new pregnancy. There is no way to get around the bleeding.
My midwife suggested giving my body 24 hours to start the process on its own, since I had a lot of painful cramps and contractions on Monday night. She asked where I'd like to pick up the prescription, if needed, which would be ready for me anytime today. I told her the Target nearest my house would be great, which is where I headed tonight because, of course, my body didn't cooperate and begin the process on its own. Stephen was ready to take Ella out for the evening if things got too intense, and my Mom was prepared to come over at a moment's notice if I, well, needed my mommy. But once I arrived at the Target, I realized they didn't have a pharmacy, which totally surprised me. I mean, doesn't every Target have a pharmacy? Isn't that a thing? Apparently it's not a thing, and when I called my clinic, they were closed for the day. Naturally. I headed to another Target and asked if their systems were linked and if they could please tell me if my midwife had called in the prescription at another Target. Yes, they are linked, but no, they have no record of my prescription being called in.
I can't believe that in the last 36 hours, nobody from my clinic thought to call me and ask for a different preferred pick-up location. I can't believe that whoever called the Target nearest my house and learned they didn't have a pharmacy did not then think to themselves that perhaps more action might be necessary. I can't believe that a woman who has already had to deal with the news of a miscarriage, the knowledge of an uncooperative body and the excruciating wait for results of my blood test was made to wait again because of lack of action on the part of my clinic.
I looked up the medication today and I really didn't like what I read... stories of extreme pain, cramping, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, fevers... none of this was mentioned to me by my midwife. Also, many women spoke of being prescribed pain medication to use during the miscarriage- another thing my midwife said nothing of, and certainly did not prescribe. The worst, though, was reading the drug warning: do NOT attempt to get pregnant for one full cycle after the miscarriage, due to the residual effects of the drug. My midwife had said we'd be fine to try again immediately. And there was no talk of what to expect with the medication, or what signs to look for in case something went wrong. I had to learn on the internet that possible side effects could include damage to my fertility.
I feel very disrespected right now. It is hard enough to know that my body couldn't even get a miscarriage right, and I've been carrying my baby for nearly two months after it passed away. To learn that my midwife was scant on information, and even possibly negligent with her advice, is disheartening to say the least. I just feel so incredibly mistreated. It is cruel irony to realize that I was treated with more dignity and respect and given much more information and support when I had a healthy baby than when I lost a baby. I can understand why some acquaintances might be silent- it's hard to know what to say to a grieving mother- though I still think that saying something- anything- is better than nothing at all. But a certified nurse midwife? A medically trained professional? It is TOO MUCH to be met with silence from someone who is an expert in these matters and should be my advocate right now.
I'm incredibly frustrated and I feel incredibly small. It is strange... when you birth a child, the response is overwhelming: the support, the cards, the gifts, the meals, the visitors, the love, and the greatest gift of all- a healthy baby. When you lose a child, many people avoid you completely, or say a few kind words but don't really know what to do a day, a week, a month after the loss. And honestly, before this experience, I wouldn't have known what to say or how to respond either, so I certainly don't blame those who aren't saying much. I just wish society knew how to supportively respond to loss they way we do with gain. Everyone celebrates with you when you experience good, but the bad stuff- the times when you feel most in need of human contact- are often the most lonely. Everyone at my clinic was so kind when I was there in person- that initial contact is so heartfelt, so gut-wrenching. The woman who drew my blood even hugged me, with tears in her eyes. But here it is a week later, and my pain isn't gone, and I still lost a child, and I'm not "over it"... and I'm treated like any other patient waiting on a prescription. The pain is not gone, the process is not over, and I'd still appreciate being treated delicately and respectfully. I mean, the baby is still INSIDE me, for goodness sake. I certainly haven't moved past the experience yet, because it hasn't even begun in some ways. And I'm scared for it to begin; I'm scared it will hurt. I don't want to go through this. I would appreciate being treated with respect, dignity, honor... and for crying out loud, CALL me when you can't fill my prescription, especially when you know it means further prolonging my opportunity to let this go, to begin the end, to feel the loss physically as well as mentally. It's the decent thing to do.
My blood was drawn at the doctor's office, after seeing an empty womb and hearing the worst words I'd ever heard in my life. My midwife told me to come back in to the hospital on Friday for another blood test, to confirm I hadn't conceived again before they gave me the medication that would make this all final. Because my body, which can't seem to do anything conventionally when it comes to reproductivity, is having something called a "missed miscarriage" or an "incomplete miscarriage", which means that the baby passed away inside me but my body is not passing it. Strange that my mind is having a somewhat easier time coping with this than my body: I want this to be over but it's still holding on. But that's a psychological issue that I'm not interested in exploring right now.
Of course, the blood test just had to be on a Friday, which means a long weekend waiting for results... knowing it won't likely be good news, but hoping anyway. Monday finally came and... no phone call. After debating for hours whether I should "inconvenience" the office with a call, I decided that my peace of mind was worth the risk and I called, only to learn that my midwife doesn't work on Mondays. GEE... thanks for the heads up. Early Tuesday, I got the call that I was dreading but anxiously awaiting nonetheless. There is no new pregnancy. There is no way to get around the bleeding.
My midwife suggested giving my body 24 hours to start the process on its own, since I had a lot of painful cramps and contractions on Monday night. She asked where I'd like to pick up the prescription, if needed, which would be ready for me anytime today. I told her the Target nearest my house would be great, which is where I headed tonight because, of course, my body didn't cooperate and begin the process on its own. Stephen was ready to take Ella out for the evening if things got too intense, and my Mom was prepared to come over at a moment's notice if I, well, needed my mommy. But once I arrived at the Target, I realized they didn't have a pharmacy, which totally surprised me. I mean, doesn't every Target have a pharmacy? Isn't that a thing? Apparently it's not a thing, and when I called my clinic, they were closed for the day. Naturally. I headed to another Target and asked if their systems were linked and if they could please tell me if my midwife had called in the prescription at another Target. Yes, they are linked, but no, they have no record of my prescription being called in.
I can't believe that in the last 36 hours, nobody from my clinic thought to call me and ask for a different preferred pick-up location. I can't believe that whoever called the Target nearest my house and learned they didn't have a pharmacy did not then think to themselves that perhaps more action might be necessary. I can't believe that a woman who has already had to deal with the news of a miscarriage, the knowledge of an uncooperative body and the excruciating wait for results of my blood test was made to wait again because of lack of action on the part of my clinic.
I looked up the medication today and I really didn't like what I read... stories of extreme pain, cramping, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, fevers... none of this was mentioned to me by my midwife. Also, many women spoke of being prescribed pain medication to use during the miscarriage- another thing my midwife said nothing of, and certainly did not prescribe. The worst, though, was reading the drug warning: do NOT attempt to get pregnant for one full cycle after the miscarriage, due to the residual effects of the drug. My midwife had said we'd be fine to try again immediately. And there was no talk of what to expect with the medication, or what signs to look for in case something went wrong. I had to learn on the internet that possible side effects could include damage to my fertility.
I feel very disrespected right now. It is hard enough to know that my body couldn't even get a miscarriage right, and I've been carrying my baby for nearly two months after it passed away. To learn that my midwife was scant on information, and even possibly negligent with her advice, is disheartening to say the least. I just feel so incredibly mistreated. It is cruel irony to realize that I was treated with more dignity and respect and given much more information and support when I had a healthy baby than when I lost a baby. I can understand why some acquaintances might be silent- it's hard to know what to say to a grieving mother- though I still think that saying something- anything- is better than nothing at all. But a certified nurse midwife? A medically trained professional? It is TOO MUCH to be met with silence from someone who is an expert in these matters and should be my advocate right now.
I'm incredibly frustrated and I feel incredibly small. It is strange... when you birth a child, the response is overwhelming: the support, the cards, the gifts, the meals, the visitors, the love, and the greatest gift of all- a healthy baby. When you lose a child, many people avoid you completely, or say a few kind words but don't really know what to do a day, a week, a month after the loss. And honestly, before this experience, I wouldn't have known what to say or how to respond either, so I certainly don't blame those who aren't saying much. I just wish society knew how to supportively respond to loss they way we do with gain. Everyone celebrates with you when you experience good, but the bad stuff- the times when you feel most in need of human contact- are often the most lonely. Everyone at my clinic was so kind when I was there in person- that initial contact is so heartfelt, so gut-wrenching. The woman who drew my blood even hugged me, with tears in her eyes. But here it is a week later, and my pain isn't gone, and I still lost a child, and I'm not "over it"... and I'm treated like any other patient waiting on a prescription. The pain is not gone, the process is not over, and I'd still appreciate being treated delicately and respectfully. I mean, the baby is still INSIDE me, for goodness sake. I certainly haven't moved past the experience yet, because it hasn't even begun in some ways. And I'm scared for it to begin; I'm scared it will hurt. I don't want to go through this. I would appreciate being treated with respect, dignity, honor... and for crying out loud, CALL me when you can't fill my prescription, especially when you know it means further prolonging my opportunity to let this go, to begin the end, to feel the loss physically as well as mentally. It's the decent thing to do.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
loss
i don't know, it's like some moments i can almost forget about it. we can watch a movie or go see family and talk and laugh and act like everything is normal. but i feel like the sorrow is lurking inside, and just waiting for a quiet moment to hit. and then it's quiet, and it does hit, and i hate it. i'm afraid that i'm stifling it or not dealing with it, but i just don't know how to deal except to try to get back to normal.
i'm so incredibly grateful that baby was so small... not even visible. that would have broken me in half. it's not less of a person, or less of a loss, but it's helping me to cope, as weird as that sounds. i'll have to take this medicine to bring on a miscarriage, and that is what i am afraid of right now... going through the process. being constantly reminded. and i don't know what to expect. how long will it take? does it hurt? how much blood are we talking here?
and, of course, before i can get that stupid medicine i have to wait to hear the results of my blood test. they had to test me on wednesday, then again on friday, just to be doubly sure i hadn't conceived again in the last few weeks. they wouldn't want to bring on a miscarriage if there's a viable new pregnancy in there. and i don't know what to feel about that.
because of course i can't help but hope a little bit that we did, so i could have something to look forward to, but at the same time i feel selfish wanting that... wanting to "get over" this loss so quickly. i could almost pretend it didn't happen. i would never forget, and i would always know that truly, our second child is not going to be our next child we bring home from the hospital. our second child will always be the child we lost. but still, a chance for immediate happiness and hope sounds pretty wonderful right now.
and then, on the other hand, there's this knowledge that it's pretty much the slimmest chance on earth that i'm pregnant again, and i am going to have to wait for that phone call confirming my hcg levels are dropping, which means just another dashed hope and another painful experience. i just can't stop wishing this was all just over and behind me. i wish it was a year from now, when the pain wasn't fresh, and i could feel normal without that constant nag in the back of my head. will it even be like that in a year? i don't know. but i have to think so. NOT that i want to forget this child. i just want to feel normal again, i guess.
and then there's the question of, when do we try again? i mean, i don't want to wait. and i feel bad that i don't want to wait. because i KNOW that part of the reason i don't want to wait is because i'm desperate to be back in that place of joy and hope. but on the other hand, stephen and i have always prayed for a large, close family... 4 kids or more all within 2-3 years of each other. a loud, full house brimming with LIFE. do i let this loss change our dreams forever? do i hide behind fear and let it control our future? what about ella? she's so caring, so maternal with other small children, and SO incredibly ready to have a full time playmate. do i let my sorrow prolong this gift to her?
of course, none of this matters... all of these fears and "what ifs", because it's not us that will give ourselves a child. it's not us that will choose the right time. it's our Father, and we know that. i want to be open to His blessings in His timing. i just hope that it's soon, but i desperately hope that i don't use this next child, this THIRD child, as the happiness to wipe away the sorrow. that's not their job, and it's not my choice to make. our second child will always be a part of us, and i know that. our family won't quite be complete this side of heaven now, and i'm letting that sink in.
and i'm mad, too. i don't know who i'm mad at, but i'm mad. i'm mad at my body for once again not doing what it was supposed to do. it took nearly two years to conceive ella, and it was a long and painful process. this time, i was sure we were being blessed with an easy process as a reward for the long road we walked for ella. maybe reward isn't the right word, but it's all i can think of right now. anyway, not only did i lose this baby, but my BODY didn't seem to get the memo. here i am, thinking i'm nearly 12 weeks pregnant, almost a third of the way there... out of the woods, so to speak. i'm expecting to see a baby nearly the size of my thumb, with tiny fingers and toes. i'm expecting to find out the gender in 8 weeks, to begin planning showers and celebrations and dig out ella's baby swing and look at her tiny newborn clothes and count the days til we're feeding, changing, losing sleep and smiling through the exhaustion at the beautiful family we'd been given.
why, why, why didn't my body just do what it should have done? if the baby was gone so early, likely by 5 or 6 weeks, then why wouldn't by body just respond? almost the entire time i've known i was pregnant, the baby wasn't even there. and that makes me so upset. it just seems cruel, like kicking someone when they're down. even now, if i hadn't gone to the doctor last week, i'd be blissfully carrying on about my baby. of course, in the last week, things have felt different. my hormone levels have finally dropped far enough that most of my pregnancy symptoms are gone. i almost can say that i knew in some ways. i remember thinking a week ago, when i felt so much better, and had all my energy back, that maybe the sudden lack of symptoms wasn't a good sign. but then i remembered the long road to ella, and thought it was just a little blessing to make this pregnancy easier.
i hate to complain like this. i don't ever want to be one of those people who acts like i deserve good things, like i have the right to any good thing in this life, like any wonderful thing that i am given is because it was earned. because i know that every single breath is a gift, and that if we got what we truly deserved, we'd be dead. i don't want to act like i am special, or immune to loss or pain. but sometimes being strong, and putting that suzy sunshine smile on my face in the midst of pain just feels disingenuous. i know God can handle my anger, my pain... and love me anyway. and sometimes it just really helps to throw a little fit. so i'm mad. i don't know at who, but it's there, and i don't know how to deal with it except to yell and cry and ask WHY, even though i know i won't get an answer. and as i grieve, i also praise... because the loss of this child reminds me how incredibly grateful i am for a healthy and absolutely beautiful toddler, and at this point in life i am taking NOTHING for granted.
i'm so incredibly grateful that baby was so small... not even visible. that would have broken me in half. it's not less of a person, or less of a loss, but it's helping me to cope, as weird as that sounds. i'll have to take this medicine to bring on a miscarriage, and that is what i am afraid of right now... going through the process. being constantly reminded. and i don't know what to expect. how long will it take? does it hurt? how much blood are we talking here?
and, of course, before i can get that stupid medicine i have to wait to hear the results of my blood test. they had to test me on wednesday, then again on friday, just to be doubly sure i hadn't conceived again in the last few weeks. they wouldn't want to bring on a miscarriage if there's a viable new pregnancy in there. and i don't know what to feel about that.
because of course i can't help but hope a little bit that we did, so i could have something to look forward to, but at the same time i feel selfish wanting that... wanting to "get over" this loss so quickly. i could almost pretend it didn't happen. i would never forget, and i would always know that truly, our second child is not going to be our next child we bring home from the hospital. our second child will always be the child we lost. but still, a chance for immediate happiness and hope sounds pretty wonderful right now.
and then, on the other hand, there's this knowledge that it's pretty much the slimmest chance on earth that i'm pregnant again, and i am going to have to wait for that phone call confirming my hcg levels are dropping, which means just another dashed hope and another painful experience. i just can't stop wishing this was all just over and behind me. i wish it was a year from now, when the pain wasn't fresh, and i could feel normal without that constant nag in the back of my head. will it even be like that in a year? i don't know. but i have to think so. NOT that i want to forget this child. i just want to feel normal again, i guess.
and then there's the question of, when do we try again? i mean, i don't want to wait. and i feel bad that i don't want to wait. because i KNOW that part of the reason i don't want to wait is because i'm desperate to be back in that place of joy and hope. but on the other hand, stephen and i have always prayed for a large, close family... 4 kids or more all within 2-3 years of each other. a loud, full house brimming with LIFE. do i let this loss change our dreams forever? do i hide behind fear and let it control our future? what about ella? she's so caring, so maternal with other small children, and SO incredibly ready to have a full time playmate. do i let my sorrow prolong this gift to her?
of course, none of this matters... all of these fears and "what ifs", because it's not us that will give ourselves a child. it's not us that will choose the right time. it's our Father, and we know that. i want to be open to His blessings in His timing. i just hope that it's soon, but i desperately hope that i don't use this next child, this THIRD child, as the happiness to wipe away the sorrow. that's not their job, and it's not my choice to make. our second child will always be a part of us, and i know that. our family won't quite be complete this side of heaven now, and i'm letting that sink in.
and i'm mad, too. i don't know who i'm mad at, but i'm mad. i'm mad at my body for once again not doing what it was supposed to do. it took nearly two years to conceive ella, and it was a long and painful process. this time, i was sure we were being blessed with an easy process as a reward for the long road we walked for ella. maybe reward isn't the right word, but it's all i can think of right now. anyway, not only did i lose this baby, but my BODY didn't seem to get the memo. here i am, thinking i'm nearly 12 weeks pregnant, almost a third of the way there... out of the woods, so to speak. i'm expecting to see a baby nearly the size of my thumb, with tiny fingers and toes. i'm expecting to find out the gender in 8 weeks, to begin planning showers and celebrations and dig out ella's baby swing and look at her tiny newborn clothes and count the days til we're feeding, changing, losing sleep and smiling through the exhaustion at the beautiful family we'd been given.
why, why, why didn't my body just do what it should have done? if the baby was gone so early, likely by 5 or 6 weeks, then why wouldn't by body just respond? almost the entire time i've known i was pregnant, the baby wasn't even there. and that makes me so upset. it just seems cruel, like kicking someone when they're down. even now, if i hadn't gone to the doctor last week, i'd be blissfully carrying on about my baby. of course, in the last week, things have felt different. my hormone levels have finally dropped far enough that most of my pregnancy symptoms are gone. i almost can say that i knew in some ways. i remember thinking a week ago, when i felt so much better, and had all my energy back, that maybe the sudden lack of symptoms wasn't a good sign. but then i remembered the long road to ella, and thought it was just a little blessing to make this pregnancy easier.
i hate to complain like this. i don't ever want to be one of those people who acts like i deserve good things, like i have the right to any good thing in this life, like any wonderful thing that i am given is because it was earned. because i know that every single breath is a gift, and that if we got what we truly deserved, we'd be dead. i don't want to act like i am special, or immune to loss or pain. but sometimes being strong, and putting that suzy sunshine smile on my face in the midst of pain just feels disingenuous. i know God can handle my anger, my pain... and love me anyway. and sometimes it just really helps to throw a little fit. so i'm mad. i don't know at who, but it's there, and i don't know how to deal with it except to yell and cry and ask WHY, even though i know i won't get an answer. and as i grieve, i also praise... because the loss of this child reminds me how incredibly grateful i am for a healthy and absolutely beautiful toddler, and at this point in life i am taking NOTHING for granted.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Cry Baby
Oh, for heaven's sake. These emotions are out of control. It's so funny, the things that are getting me this pregnancy. It's just so different than my pregnancy with Ella. Every mom says that, so I should have expected it to be true, but I'm still floored at how unique my experiences are this time. One of the main differences I'm experiencing is a glitch with my emotional wiring. It seems like my body's natural response to joy is to cry, which comes out at the oddest of moments, some of them not even joyful enough to warrant eliciting much response whatsoever. I got tears in my eyes when I discovered I could get a bag of Hershey's Kisses for $.99 at Target this week, and pictured myself making those peanut butter cookies with the kisses pressed into the top. Yummmm. But honestly, tears in my eyes? I guess maybe I was more emotional over that fact that I would be doing something to bring my family joy, but good grief... that's a little over the top. I'd hate to think what would happen if any REAL emotional issue sprung up in my life right now.
I've been getting into this coupon thing a lot lately. I used to be a firm believer that most coupons were useless, based on the idea that buying the store brand item would be cheaper than these name brands, even with their fancy coupons. However, I've been reading this local blog written by several moms who combine manufacturer's coupons with store coupons and sale prices, and buy food and household items for pennies on the dollar- sometimes even free! Best of all, they chronicle the entire process so the reader can duplicate their endeavors and stock their pantries. I'm really enjoying learning the ropes. You should have seen how proud I was the other day when I scored two cans of Campbell's yummy soups (the big, hearty meal ones, not the little condensed cans) completely for free. It was a very empowering experience.
It definitely feels like this is a season of learning. Not only am I learning a new way to shop, as well as a new way to manage our finances, I'm also entering into a pretty serious learning environment with my back-to-school endeavors. I had my first class last night, a history class that will cover US history throughout most of the 1900s. I'm pretty excited about being back to school, but man, it's a lot to take in. Ella is changing in so many ways, right before my eyes, and now this tiny little baby is growing inside me... I feel such an urge to continue making my house a home and create a truly awesome environment for my kids to live and play and learn. The good news is, I think I'm gonna breeze through these first few terms of school by taking only the classes I know I can handle while pregnant, and I still feel like I'll have plenty of time to give to my family.
Not to mention, these three classes with my husband each week are so special to me! I made a comment recently that it's like having three date nights a week. Of course, there's nothing romantic about florescent lighting and lectures on the Great Depression, but as anyone who has young children can relate, even the 20 minutes of alone time in the car are such a welcome time of uninterrupted conversation and connection. We're hoping to head to class a little early sometimes, so we can grab a coffee or a quick bite to eat before school. I'm going to work on scaling back my grocery shopping even more (yay, coupons!) and try to find as many coupons for cheap dinners and coffees so that we can eat out or get lattes without making a dent in our budget. It's more fun that way... like a treasure hunt. Mochas taste so much sweeter when they're almost free. :)
Ella is in a season of "new" as well, with full sentences flying out of her mouth more and more each day. I still can't quite believe that I'm witnessing the transformation from baby into little girl already. It seems especially intense because she's talking and learning new things a lot earlier than many toddlers her age. Now I get that joke, "She's two, going on five." I used to think it mostly meant that your kid had a lot of attitude, which would also be true for Ella, but for me it also means my baby is not really a baby anymore. Of course, anytime I get overly emotional about this fact (which happens a lot lately... see: Hershey's Kisses) I end up with a little cuddle bug in my arms, giving me snuggles and kisses and saying, "I love Mama." Now that is a sentence I don't mind hearing one little bit.
I've been getting into this coupon thing a lot lately. I used to be a firm believer that most coupons were useless, based on the idea that buying the store brand item would be cheaper than these name brands, even with their fancy coupons. However, I've been reading this local blog written by several moms who combine manufacturer's coupons with store coupons and sale prices, and buy food and household items for pennies on the dollar- sometimes even free! Best of all, they chronicle the entire process so the reader can duplicate their endeavors and stock their pantries. I'm really enjoying learning the ropes. You should have seen how proud I was the other day when I scored two cans of Campbell's yummy soups (the big, hearty meal ones, not the little condensed cans) completely for free. It was a very empowering experience.
It definitely feels like this is a season of learning. Not only am I learning a new way to shop, as well as a new way to manage our finances, I'm also entering into a pretty serious learning environment with my back-to-school endeavors. I had my first class last night, a history class that will cover US history throughout most of the 1900s. I'm pretty excited about being back to school, but man, it's a lot to take in. Ella is changing in so many ways, right before my eyes, and now this tiny little baby is growing inside me... I feel such an urge to continue making my house a home and create a truly awesome environment for my kids to live and play and learn. The good news is, I think I'm gonna breeze through these first few terms of school by taking only the classes I know I can handle while pregnant, and I still feel like I'll have plenty of time to give to my family.
Not to mention, these three classes with my husband each week are so special to me! I made a comment recently that it's like having three date nights a week. Of course, there's nothing romantic about florescent lighting and lectures on the Great Depression, but as anyone who has young children can relate, even the 20 minutes of alone time in the car are such a welcome time of uninterrupted conversation and connection. We're hoping to head to class a little early sometimes, so we can grab a coffee or a quick bite to eat before school. I'm going to work on scaling back my grocery shopping even more (yay, coupons!) and try to find as many coupons for cheap dinners and coffees so that we can eat out or get lattes without making a dent in our budget. It's more fun that way... like a treasure hunt. Mochas taste so much sweeter when they're almost free. :)
Ella is in a season of "new" as well, with full sentences flying out of her mouth more and more each day. I still can't quite believe that I'm witnessing the transformation from baby into little girl already. It seems especially intense because she's talking and learning new things a lot earlier than many toddlers her age. Now I get that joke, "She's two, going on five." I used to think it mostly meant that your kid had a lot of attitude, which would also be true for Ella, but for me it also means my baby is not really a baby anymore. Of course, anytime I get overly emotional about this fact (which happens a lot lately... see: Hershey's Kisses) I end up with a little cuddle bug in my arms, giving me snuggles and kisses and saying, "I love Mama." Now that is a sentence I don't mind hearing one little bit.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Tiny Dancer
My little girl loves to dance. She can boogie with the best of them, and is particularly inspired by music with Latin or Caribbean undertones. She's very cultured. ;) But her favorite dance move by far is when she becomes a "balladina". She loves to spin in circles, arms extended, while giggling and saying, "Soooo bizzy!" No, not busy as in preoccupied... bizzy is dizzy in Ellaspeak.
Usually she is a stickler for detail... listening closely to a new word and repeating it until she gets it right. But there are a few words that have formed their own identity in her head, and she says them the way she wants to say them without regard to how others say them. One example is melonwater. She's heard me say watermelon a thousand times. She's heard EVERYONE say watermelon. But it's melonwater to her. :)
And the sentences! All of a sudden, my girl is making full sentences. She's been saying a few short ones for a while now, or at least phrases. "Go to bed," "have snack," etc. But now, she will turn to me and completely out of the blue make these absolutely perfect sentences... "Mama, I want to go to the store," "Mama, want to play with me?" "Mama, I don't like this." That last one isn't exactly joy to my ears, because it's usually regarding another food that she has vetoed from her diet, but still... the fact that it's a sentence blows me away! I mean, I know everyone says their kid is the most amazing, intelligent, advanced child on the planet- but really, I've known a lot of two year olds in my day and most of them just don't talk like this. And she's been two years old for all of 3 weeks at this point. I'm not kidding. She's a genius.
Her memory bowls me over, too. My phone rang the other day and I knew it was my Dad calling because of the ringtone. But my Dad doesn't call all the time, and even when he does, I don't normally announce, "That's your Papa calling, and you can tell by the ringtone!" She knew, though. She looked up from her doll and said, "That's Papa!" The detail this little mind picks up is unreal. She's also really good at remembering quotes. She can say a few lines from her favorite movies (my favorites: "Who invited THAT kid?" and "That ain't no happy child."- both from Toy Story) and she will sometimes read parts of her book to herself and actually get the words right. She remembers many song lyrics, too, and will sing along or spontaneously burst into song, which melts my heart. I'm a big fan of music and am often singing a song around the house or in the car, so when she displays a characteristic that is clearly part of her Mama in her, it makes me feel proud and special that I'm a part of such a little person's life in such a big way.
Well, I guess this has just turned into a big giant bragfest, but it's not because I am one of those crazy moms who acts haughty about her fantastic, advanced children. It's more like I'm completely floored that I've been entrusted with such a fabulous being and play such a large role in her development and life experience. I just want to do my very best for her. It frustrates me sometimes to know that many people's sentiment about children is one of mild (or entire lack of) interest, or even sometimes annoyance and displeasure. I don't think some people fully grasp the idea that this person comes into the world with a fairly blank slate and it is your job as a parent to basically teach them how to live and be and do, well, everything! When you truly grasp that, it becomes impossible to NOT be amazed at all they can do and say, because you know that you have a direct role and responsibility in that development and you must be doing something right! It's the biggest and most important job you could ever have, and we all know what happens when parents neglect that responsibility. I take it very seriously.
I want my children to be the fulfillment of every ability and dream and possibility that God has shaped in their hearts, and I want them to reach that point only because they feel loved, nurtured and encouraged, not because they are forced or because it's expected of them. It excites me to dream of how these little tendencies- these beautiful capabilities that my baby girl shows at such an early age- will translate into her adult years. I don't expect anything of her but that she is true to the things God has put in her heart, but I just know that she is destined for greatness. All of our children are. And greatness does not necessarily mean a fabulous career, financial security, things that the world would view as signs of success. Greatness to me comes from your character, your countenance- and my little character is sure to succeed in that regard. I have a feeling this tiny balladina will be dancing through life with grace and confidence, and it's a pleasure to have a front row ticket to all her major performances. :)
Usually she is a stickler for detail... listening closely to a new word and repeating it until she gets it right. But there are a few words that have formed their own identity in her head, and she says them the way she wants to say them without regard to how others say them. One example is melonwater. She's heard me say watermelon a thousand times. She's heard EVERYONE say watermelon. But it's melonwater to her. :)
And the sentences! All of a sudden, my girl is making full sentences. She's been saying a few short ones for a while now, or at least phrases. "Go to bed," "have snack," etc. But now, she will turn to me and completely out of the blue make these absolutely perfect sentences... "Mama, I want to go to the store," "Mama, want to play with me?" "Mama, I don't like this." That last one isn't exactly joy to my ears, because it's usually regarding another food that she has vetoed from her diet, but still... the fact that it's a sentence blows me away! I mean, I know everyone says their kid is the most amazing, intelligent, advanced child on the planet- but really, I've known a lot of two year olds in my day and most of them just don't talk like this. And she's been two years old for all of 3 weeks at this point. I'm not kidding. She's a genius.
Her memory bowls me over, too. My phone rang the other day and I knew it was my Dad calling because of the ringtone. But my Dad doesn't call all the time, and even when he does, I don't normally announce, "That's your Papa calling, and you can tell by the ringtone!" She knew, though. She looked up from her doll and said, "That's Papa!" The detail this little mind picks up is unreal. She's also really good at remembering quotes. She can say a few lines from her favorite movies (my favorites: "Who invited THAT kid?" and "That ain't no happy child."- both from Toy Story) and she will sometimes read parts of her book to herself and actually get the words right. She remembers many song lyrics, too, and will sing along or spontaneously burst into song, which melts my heart. I'm a big fan of music and am often singing a song around the house or in the car, so when she displays a characteristic that is clearly part of her Mama in her, it makes me feel proud and special that I'm a part of such a little person's life in such a big way.
Well, I guess this has just turned into a big giant bragfest, but it's not because I am one of those crazy moms who acts haughty about her fantastic, advanced children. It's more like I'm completely floored that I've been entrusted with such a fabulous being and play such a large role in her development and life experience. I just want to do my very best for her. It frustrates me sometimes to know that many people's sentiment about children is one of mild (or entire lack of) interest, or even sometimes annoyance and displeasure. I don't think some people fully grasp the idea that this person comes into the world with a fairly blank slate and it is your job as a parent to basically teach them how to live and be and do, well, everything! When you truly grasp that, it becomes impossible to NOT be amazed at all they can do and say, because you know that you have a direct role and responsibility in that development and you must be doing something right! It's the biggest and most important job you could ever have, and we all know what happens when parents neglect that responsibility. I take it very seriously.
I want my children to be the fulfillment of every ability and dream and possibility that God has shaped in their hearts, and I want them to reach that point only because they feel loved, nurtured and encouraged, not because they are forced or because it's expected of them. It excites me to dream of how these little tendencies- these beautiful capabilities that my baby girl shows at such an early age- will translate into her adult years. I don't expect anything of her but that she is true to the things God has put in her heart, but I just know that she is destined for greatness. All of our children are. And greatness does not necessarily mean a fabulous career, financial security, things that the world would view as signs of success. Greatness to me comes from your character, your countenance- and my little character is sure to succeed in that regard. I have a feeling this tiny balladina will be dancing through life with grace and confidence, and it's a pleasure to have a front row ticket to all her major performances. :)
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Before I Forget
I keep telling myself I will write things down... these moments that come and go so quickly and I feel like I'll never forget. But I will forget, or I will write. So, write it is. :) As I type, my two year old daughter Ella Joy is sitting next to me on the couch with four washcloths piled on her head (a "hat", I'm sure), a pink binky in her mouth (yes, she's too old, and no, I don't care) and dolls from her dollhouse in her hands, as she watches Toy Story for the thousandth time. We bought her the dollhouse for her 2nd birthday, on August 22nd, 2010. She loves it.
Ella is really into Toy Story, but she's recently opened her heart and allowed two new movies to take hold... Bolt and Monsters, Inc. This is just more evidence that I have indeed birthed a genius, as these are movies I would normally associate with preschoolers at the youngest. But she gets some of the humor and she loves the characters. Monsters, Inc has taught her what "scary monsters" are, and with it, a new game of scare Ella! She says "Mama, I caaared. Daddy, I caaaared" as she pulls the blanket over her head. Then she giggles until we ROOOAR at her and jump on the bed and tickle her til her laughs turn to gasps for air. A few seconds to recover, aaaand.... she's "cared" again.
Last night, she was laying on the living room floor in her Disney Princess sleeping bag (garage sale- $3- thank you, Nana!) and she looked at me and said, "Mama, will you wahr me?" After me asking her to repeat herself several times, and saying aloud "What on earth is wahr me?", I realized she was saying "roar". OH! She wants Mama to scare her! And so I did. Roooar! The things she says, they just melt my heart. She is a miniature adult in so many ways. Lately, she's been saying "I have good news!' about everything. Of course, half the time there's no news to follow that proclamation, but just the fact that she says it, that she picked up on such a phrase, makes me marvel at her mind and how it must constantly be taking in new information.
Sometime in mid-April, things are going to change in a big way. Ella will have a little brother or sister and she won't rule the roost anymore. I've joked for a while now that she needs to be de-throned (my girl is very sweet but she's got more than her share of spice) but more than anything I hope that she never feels like she's any less special or important to me than she is right now. Really, the change isn't waiting til mid-April... it's already happening in a lot of ways. I'm only 8 weeks pregnant but with this nonstop nausea and fatigue, my big girl is already having to learn to grow some thicker skin and share Mama, even if it's with the couch and not another baby yet. It makes me sad in a lot of ways, because I did not factor in the changes that would happen this early on. My Mom (Nana) is constantly reassuring me that Ella is just happy Mama is home with her, and she won't remember me being sick and out of whack for a few months in the grand scheme of things. And she's right, of course... but with the combination of hormones, emotions, and the fact that my girl has been our life for the last two years, I can't help but feel a little uncertain about the changes ahead and how they'll affect her.
Speaking of hormones, I'll change the tone a bit here and leave you with a funny story (another thing I don't want to forget but probably will) that happened last night. Let me preface it a bit... So, I am a bit of an emotional person to begin with. When pregnant women joke at how they tear up at Kodak commercials and Hallmark cards, I laugh aloud but inwardly think "Isn't it normal to do that all the time?" Yeah, it doesn't take much for these eyes to get teared up, and thankfully it's more often tears of happiness than sadness. HOWEVER, when this basket case is pregnant, you can just forget it. Basically, I'm a mess for nine months, and the few following pregnancy too, for good measure. Now, on to my story...
Last night, I had one of those "get out of the house for some alone time" evenings... pure bliss. Armed with a grocery list and a purse full of coupons, I headed for Target- not just any Target, mind you, but the BIG Target at Cascade Station, the one that makes me giddy with joy because it just has SO DARN MUCH to it, and clearance out the ears on a consistent basis. I was already feeling that happy high of anticipation, wandering the aisles with my cart. I don't even have to buy anything. Simply viewing fabrics, patterns, colors, ideas, inspirations- it brings me a sense of life and creativity. But this time, I planned to fill my cart with some pretty amazing grocery deals I'd found online. Imagine my surprise when I pull up to the store and see all these beautiful fruit and vegetable decals covering the doors, and the signs underneath them: Fresh Produce, Coming in September!
So, naturally, my response was to cry. I cried. Full on tears in my eyes, spilling over my eyelids as I grinned stupidly and began to giggle. I mean, this is big stuff! Produce! At TARGET! Oh, man. And as I cried, I began to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the fact that I was crying about broccoli. Then I couldn't stop laughing, so I had to call my husband Stephen and share this ridiculous moment with him, just to show him how emotionally insane this pregnancy was making me! I was only a *little* offended when instead of feigning surprise, he just said "Yep" with this "You didn't have to explain that to ME" tone. (I'll save the OUR MARRIAGE IS OVER story because he washed Ella's new red and white shirt in WARM water for another day. I mean, come on... new red shirt, warm water- arrrrgh!!!!)
Well, maybe you'll appreciate the humor of the story a bit more than my husband did. At that point, I think he was just relieved that the emotions had caused me to laugh instead of going postal. And, for the record, my joy was short lived. Target has great prices for pantry items, but meat, dairy and produce? Not so much. But I hope that's the point of my blog... to help me share and remember all the joy I find in small things, however fleeting the moments may be. This stuff is just too good to forget.
Ella is really into Toy Story, but she's recently opened her heart and allowed two new movies to take hold... Bolt and Monsters, Inc. This is just more evidence that I have indeed birthed a genius, as these are movies I would normally associate with preschoolers at the youngest. But she gets some of the humor and she loves the characters. Monsters, Inc has taught her what "scary monsters" are, and with it, a new game of scare Ella! She says "Mama, I caaared. Daddy, I caaaared" as she pulls the blanket over her head. Then she giggles until we ROOOAR at her and jump on the bed and tickle her til her laughs turn to gasps for air. A few seconds to recover, aaaand.... she's "cared" again.
Last night, she was laying on the living room floor in her Disney Princess sleeping bag (garage sale- $3- thank you, Nana!) and she looked at me and said, "Mama, will you wahr me?" After me asking her to repeat herself several times, and saying aloud "What on earth is wahr me?", I realized she was saying "roar". OH! She wants Mama to scare her! And so I did. Roooar! The things she says, they just melt my heart. She is a miniature adult in so many ways. Lately, she's been saying "I have good news!' about everything. Of course, half the time there's no news to follow that proclamation, but just the fact that she says it, that she picked up on such a phrase, makes me marvel at her mind and how it must constantly be taking in new information.
Sometime in mid-April, things are going to change in a big way. Ella will have a little brother or sister and she won't rule the roost anymore. I've joked for a while now that she needs to be de-throned (my girl is very sweet but she's got more than her share of spice) but more than anything I hope that she never feels like she's any less special or important to me than she is right now. Really, the change isn't waiting til mid-April... it's already happening in a lot of ways. I'm only 8 weeks pregnant but with this nonstop nausea and fatigue, my big girl is already having to learn to grow some thicker skin and share Mama, even if it's with the couch and not another baby yet. It makes me sad in a lot of ways, because I did not factor in the changes that would happen this early on. My Mom (Nana) is constantly reassuring me that Ella is just happy Mama is home with her, and she won't remember me being sick and out of whack for a few months in the grand scheme of things. And she's right, of course... but with the combination of hormones, emotions, and the fact that my girl has been our life for the last two years, I can't help but feel a little uncertain about the changes ahead and how they'll affect her.
Speaking of hormones, I'll change the tone a bit here and leave you with a funny story (another thing I don't want to forget but probably will) that happened last night. Let me preface it a bit... So, I am a bit of an emotional person to begin with. When pregnant women joke at how they tear up at Kodak commercials and Hallmark cards, I laugh aloud but inwardly think "Isn't it normal to do that all the time?" Yeah, it doesn't take much for these eyes to get teared up, and thankfully it's more often tears of happiness than sadness. HOWEVER, when this basket case is pregnant, you can just forget it. Basically, I'm a mess for nine months, and the few following pregnancy too, for good measure. Now, on to my story...
Last night, I had one of those "get out of the house for some alone time" evenings... pure bliss. Armed with a grocery list and a purse full of coupons, I headed for Target- not just any Target, mind you, but the BIG Target at Cascade Station, the one that makes me giddy with joy because it just has SO DARN MUCH to it, and clearance out the ears on a consistent basis. I was already feeling that happy high of anticipation, wandering the aisles with my cart. I don't even have to buy anything. Simply viewing fabrics, patterns, colors, ideas, inspirations- it brings me a sense of life and creativity. But this time, I planned to fill my cart with some pretty amazing grocery deals I'd found online. Imagine my surprise when I pull up to the store and see all these beautiful fruit and vegetable decals covering the doors, and the signs underneath them: Fresh Produce, Coming in September!
So, naturally, my response was to cry. I cried. Full on tears in my eyes, spilling over my eyelids as I grinned stupidly and began to giggle. I mean, this is big stuff! Produce! At TARGET! Oh, man. And as I cried, I began to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the fact that I was crying about broccoli. Then I couldn't stop laughing, so I had to call my husband Stephen and share this ridiculous moment with him, just to show him how emotionally insane this pregnancy was making me! I was only a *little* offended when instead of feigning surprise, he just said "Yep" with this "You didn't have to explain that to ME" tone. (I'll save the OUR MARRIAGE IS OVER story because he washed Ella's new red and white shirt in WARM water for another day. I mean, come on... new red shirt, warm water- arrrrgh!!!!)
Well, maybe you'll appreciate the humor of the story a bit more than my husband did. At that point, I think he was just relieved that the emotions had caused me to laugh instead of going postal. And, for the record, my joy was short lived. Target has great prices for pantry items, but meat, dairy and produce? Not so much. But I hope that's the point of my blog... to help me share and remember all the joy I find in small things, however fleeting the moments may be. This stuff is just too good to forget.
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