A Premature Baby Story x 2

In 2003, I was over the moon upon learning that I was pregnant with twins. Not only had I spent nearly a year and half taking pregnancy test after pregnancy test, only to see the negative symbol, but I had watched many of my friends get pregnant and give birth in the same amount of time.

And finally, not only was I pregnant, but I was pregnant with twins - something else I had always wanted.

I happily went about my business that summer, even when I felt a strange tightening in my abdomen at only fourteen weeks.

Then, at my twenty week appointment, my doctor lowered the boom. Not only did one of my babies have a birth defect, but I was also in pre-term labor and would have to go on bed rest for the duration of my pregnancy.

This was one time in my life that my stubbornness served me very well. I ended up being on bed rest for fourteen and a half weeks. Luckily, I was at home, and only on three medications.

Two days before New Year's Eve, I started having excruciating back pain. Since I wasn't due until February, I didn't think anything of it other than the fact that I was carrying two babies. When the pain didn't abate two days later, I went to the hospital to be checked.

Upon my arrival, I promptly threw up, and the nurse announced, "Yep, you're in labor."

It was six and a half weeks before my due date. My babies were born on New Year's Eve.

After Joey and Slim were born, they were immediately whisked to the Newborn Intensive Care Unit (NICU). I didn't even get to hold them.

The NICU was a scary place to me - all the plastic incubators, the hand washing stations, the caution, the quiet. I'd never experienced anything like it.

The day I left the hospital without my babies was the hardest day of my life up to that point. I remember taking a random part of my rented breast pump up to the nurses station and trying to ask what it was for, but bawling so hard the words wouldn't come out.

I spent every day in the NICU, rocking, holding, and learning how to nurse and take care of my babies. I look back on their days there with fondness.

I was lucky. We were lucky. All the boys needed was some time under the bilirubin lights. They needed to grow and eat and get strong. They were never in any danger. There was never the possibility that I would not be taking them home.

Right next to Joey and Slim's little section was a section reserved for a little baby girl with an exotic name. The curtains were always closed because her condition was very dire. Her parents lived three hours away, so they were never there with her. The nurses had become very attached to her.

One morning I came skipping into the NICU, excited to see my babies. I noticed that the curtains to the girl baby's section were open, and she was gone.

She had died in the night. All the nurses were crying that morning.

I drew the curtains on our section, gathered my two babies up in my arms, and we rocked and cried for quite a while.

After 12 and 17 days respectively, Joey and Slim got to come home, and we never looked back. We were very lucky.

More than an estimated half million babies in the United States alone are born prematurely, and I found a statistic on the Huffington Post that put the number at 8 million worldwide. Yesterday was World Prematurity Awareness Day, and I'm linking my story up with Four Plus an Angel. The linky will be open all week and for every link shared, a donation will be made to the March of Dimes.

Incidentally, the March of Dimes has given a "C" rating to the United States in regard to preterm birth rates. That's a First World Problem we don't want to have.

Please read others' stories and share yours if you have one. Let's help shed some light on this issue one story at a time.







The Power of Small Forgiveness

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My mom loves to tell a story about a vacation my family took when I was younger. I couldn't have been more than four or five at the time. We were touring South Dakota or Wyoming or some vast Midwestern state. I was tired of getting out of the car, so when my family all got out again, I went around, locked all the doors of the car (this was old school, people - push and lock) and declared, "I'm NOT getting out!"

My parents, of course, had the key, and my grandma, who was also tired of walking, agreed to stay by the car and watch me.

My mom uses this story to illustrate how stubborn I was. And I still am. Sometimes it is to my benefit, like when I had to spend 14 and a half weeks on bed rest with my twins.

Sometimes it is to my detriment, like when I hold stupid grudges against people and ideas. I lost about eight years' worth of time with two of my very best friends being upset over petty stuff that we could have talked out. Thankfully, I am friends again with these amazing women, but I feel sad about the big holes in our relationships.

 

That brings to mind how powerful forgiveness can be. Even if the words aren't said, the feelings are there. And even if it's not necessarily "forgive and forget" (remember, I said I was stubborn), the forgiveness part can still heal us enough to allow forward movement.

I've had a tough week. I wrote about the 8 ways I'm trying to deal with parenting stress. One way was to go into the bathroom, away from my kids, and yell. I don't want them to think of me as the psycho unbalanced mom who always yelled.

 

But that's what I did Monday. And then because I needed my two hours of time the other day, I let Baby E cry in his crib for an hour. The whole time I am doing either of these things, I think to myself, "My goodness, I'm an awful mother. I'm evil. My sons are going to hate me."

 

And while that may be true someday (hello teenage years), it's certainly not true now. Thankfully, little people have the ability to forgive - and forget - in big ways.

 

I can see that at least two of my boys have my stubborn streak; but regardless, by Monday night, they were wanting hugs and stories. And short of brushing my hair, they were doing everything they could to make the night easier for me.

 

And the crying baby? By the time I went to get him from his crib, he was all smiles and hugs and happy to see me.

 

I can't help but think I'm doing damage to my boys every time I yell and scream at them.

 

But every time I cuddle and read a story, make someone a special lunch, spend some time playing, well, maybe I'm turning on that power. The power of forgiveness. The non-stubborn let's-just-forget-about-it-ness.

 

Wouldn't it be nice if it were that easy for adults?

 

 

Are you a forgive and forget type person, or do you hold grudges?

8 Ways I'm Dealing with Parenting Stress

I wrote in my last post about starting each day with new, fresh eyes and a happy heart. The sun will rise and that stuff.

Yeah, didn't work so great for me yesterday.

It doesn't help that I really hate Mondays. For me, instead of being a time to start fresh and begin a new week, they always seem to be packed with things I forgot I had to do until an e-mail, a bing-bong on my phone, or an actual live person reminded me.

Yesterday was no different. I had promised to work the book fair at school for two hours, and I still have no babysitter, so I had to ask my parents to watch Baby E and Lil' C.

I had to call the orthodontist because one of Slim's spacers fell out already. Then, while I was at school, I had to run down to his classroom to look and see which one it was, then call the orthodontist back to make the appointment that he had to have THAT DAY so it could be replaced.

I had to go to Knox's classroom to tell his teacher to tell him that he had Cub Scouts after school because that had slipped my mind until I read a reminder e-mail.

I had to pick Lil' C and Slim up early from school to take Slim to his appointment, and I had just enough time to stop at the store for Baby E's special milk and one needed ingredient for dinner before I had to pick up Knox from Cub Scouts.

Typical day for most moms, right?

But there was still the behavior I had to deal with. The boy who told Grandma that he didn't like her. The boy who wouldn't wear the Cub Scout shirt I brought up especially for him. The fighting over who would get to play a game on my phone in the car. The boy who wandered off three times during the ten minute grocery store trip. The backpacks and shoes and coats all over the laundry room floor for the gazillionth time this school year. The fighting, the talking back, the disrespect.

I. Had. Had. Enough!

I suppose it also didn't help that a little monthly visitor had also arrived that day, but I lost it. I yelled and screamed and told the boys under no uncertain terms was I doing anything for anyone anymore. By the time I was done with my tirade, the two older boys were in tears, and the younger ones were avoiding me.

Oh, this is not the mom I want to be. This is not the mom I want my boys to have. I felt like things were spiralling out of control and the pressure was building and building and building until the lid blew right off the boiling pot.

I could have handled it better. I should have handled it better.

Hubby would say, "Coulda, shoulda . . . now what are you going to do about it?"

Good question. I've been thinking a lot about that today, and I've thought of some ways I can deal with my parenting stress:

1. Don't sweat the small stuff. Also called, pick your battles. One forgotten paper, misplaced shoe, spilled drink is not the end of the world. It happens. I need to take a deep breath and remember we've been through much worse.

2. Put more energy into the big stuff. I have not been consistent enough with some of the life lessons I want my boys to learn, like consistently following the same routines about chores, rewards, consequences, prayer, thankfulness, service to others, respect, patience, kindness, tolerance. I need to think about what I want them to learn, and rather than continuously harping, I need to model the behavior.

3. Do my screaming and yelling in private. I always tell my boys that feelings are okay. You have a right to your feelings. But your responsibility lies in what you do with those feelings. It's okay for me to be mad and frustrated - holy hell, please tell me we all get this way, right? But it's my responsibility not to verbally abuse my children. If I feel like screaming and yelling, I can go in my room or my bathroom, shut the door, and have a good scream or cuss session. Done. Let's move on.

4. Vent to friends. I have some amazing friends, and by now I know exactly which ones I can say which things to. It's like eating my favorite chocolate or drinking my favorite wine. It's a comfortable treat that makes me feel better when I'm done.

5. Have something for myself. I love being a mom - I really, really do. But the trap I fall into is when that's ALL I do. It puts too much pressure on me to define myself only in that way. Since I've been writing, I realize that I have something else I can contribute to those outside my family. And I earn praise for being something other than a mom. I earn praise for being me.

6. Savour my downtime. I have two hours to myself in the afternoon. I am usually running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to get as much done as possible. When 3:00 rolls around and I didn't get as much done as I wanted, I beat myself up about it. I can't do that. I need set realistic expectations for myself. I also need to realize that after everyone goes to bed, it's okay for me to watch t.v. and read blogs - I deserve it. It's not okay for me to stay up late and be crabby the next day though.

7. Rely on Hubby and let him rely on me. This is finally something we're getting better at. I'm not talking about the division of child-rearing chores. We've always done that. I mean when I've had a bad day, he can step in and be the yang to my yin and vice-versa. Previously, if he was in a bad mood, I would be, too. If I was yelling at everyone, so was he. Now we both realize that if we are feeling that way, it's because we've had a long day or we're stressed or we are sick, and the other person needs to step up and be the voice of calm. Hubby did that for me last night, and it helped calm me down, too.

8. Relieve stress in a non-destructive way. Can anyone say binge eating?? I can. It usually involves some sort of carbs or eating ice cream right out of the container. Vacuuming, jumping jacks, yoga stretches, running up and down the stairs can all produce the same result (except around my waistline). I need to care for myself in order to care for my children.

I am so not a perfect mom or woman or person. I make mistakes. But luckily my children are young enough that I can correct those mistakes. If I can do better at "dealing," I think that's half the battle in reducing the stress in the first place.


What strategies do you have for dealing with stress in your daily life as a parent?

The Sun Will Rise Tomorrow

I crept into each of their rooms one by one. I knew they were sleeping, but I just needed to look at them one more time before I went to bed.

I couldn't help but smile as I looked at each of their sweet, sleeping faces. Red lips and smooth skin. Long eyelashes and tousled hair.

I gave each of them a kiss on their forehead or cheek and closed each door as softly as I had opened it.

This used to be my nightly ritual. I had to look at each one of them one more time before I went to bed, but lately it has gotten lost in the busyness of my day.

They are so sweet when they're sleeping - the best behaved they've been all day, Hubby will joke.

I look at them sleeping and think, no matter how our day went, whatever mistakes we made, or how many times we yelled or argued, tomorrow is a new day. The sun will rise tomorrow, and we will have a chance to do it all over again.

We will have a chance to do it better, with more love and compassion. We will have a chance to choose our attitudes and how we react to one another. We will have a chance to see the world with new eyes and a fresh perspective. We will have a chance to make someone else's day bright.

I was so dismayed on Wednesday after the election. I was saddened by the hateful vitriol flooding social media. I was scared by the negative attitudes of the masses, the doom and gloom prophesies, and the back and forth bickering.

Facts are facts. People got elected. That's what happens in an election. No matter how anyone voted, no matter what our beliefs - religious or political - we all need to come together. It is up to us now to turn the tide of society.

It is up to all of us each day to decide what attitude we will wear when the sun rises, because it will rise every day. Every day we are given a new opportunity to do something good with our lives, and I believe it starts with our attitudes.

I always ask my boys if they are going to add negativity to someone's day by being mean or take a burden away from someone by being kind. If adults would consider this before they speak and act, we might have a more unified country.

So tomorrow, as the sun rises and peaks its way into the rooms of my sleeping children, I will wake them softly with a smile, the promise of a new day on the horizon, a positive attitude steering us all ahead.

Television Isn't All Bad

We love our screen time at this house. A little too much. We have tried to put restrictions on it, but the fact is, Hubby and I like our screen time, too.

Yesterday morning, the boys would not stop picking on each other. So in the spur of a weak mom moment, I declared, "No screen time today!"

Now, mom code dictates that you never dole out a punishment that you cannot live with yourself. So, after the older boys were dropped off at school, Lil' C was watching Playhouse Disney by 8:30 so Mommy could check her e-mail, Facebook, Twitter and blogs. What can I say, a gal's gotta keep up with social media, right?

In all seriousness, on normal days, the boys get only one hour of screen time with a chance to earn more on the weekends. It works for us.

We were sitting in the kitchen after school eating snack, when Slim asks me, "Mommy, do you text and drive?"

This is a peeve of mine - people in their cars on their phones. I can't say I've never placed a call or texted while I have been driving, but it is extremely rare if I do. Checking my e-mail, however, is another issue entirely (I just can't resist that little "whoo-hoo" that lets me know I have mail).

"Where did you hear that?" I ask.

"On a t.v. commercial," the boys answer in unison.

So, of course I say, "No, a person should never use their phone while driving," all while making a mental note to myself to stop looking at my phone while I drive because the boys are getting old enough to notice.

And then, all three boys look at each other like a round table of scientific experts and start spewing out statistics on how many accidents are caused by texting and driving.

Then Lil' C says, "And you should never drink and drive either," as if he's just told me it is Mickey Mouse's birthday.

I raise one eyebrow and ask, "Drink what and drive?"

Knox leans over and whispers loudly, "Pop. You shouldn't drink pop and drive." And Lil' C announces proudly, "Pop!" And more statistics come after that.

I laugh and launch into a speech I know I will repeat to this group of boys so many times in the future about what alcohol is and how it impairs your judgement. It's never too early to start that talk.

And that is what's okay about television. It started a conversation with my sons that I would eventually need to have anyway. It started a conversation about something important while they are young, impressionable, and receptive to hearing it.

That's why television, in certain amounts, isn't all that bad.


What's your policy on screen time for your kids?