Zane turned a year old today.
I had planned a beautiful day of discovery and connection for us. I imagined cuddling and telling him stories from his birth and relating to him how long we waited and prayed for him to be with us and how utterly grateful we are that he has come into our lives. I imagined a peaceful, celebratory day.
Instead, much like his birth - it was all of that, but not at all how I planned it.
He woke up at 5am. An hour early. I sat in his room till 6am quietly "shhh"ing and trying to coax him back to sleep. At 6 we "woke" him with a big birthday song and hugs and kisses. Mr. Spicy brought him into our room and I nursed him and promptly passed out in exhaustion. Mr. Spicy was kind enough to let me sleep for an hour, but that meant I missed the "cake for breakfast" festivities I had so been looking forward to. I came downstairs to find a very happy little boy with cake crumbs all over his pj's. Very sweet.
Then, somehow Mr. Spicy and I managed to work ourselves into a stupid, nasty fight before he left for work and I was more than 30 minutes late getting Zane down for his first nap. Nice.
I had decided to take Zane to the National Western Stock Show in town after his nap, to pet all the exciting farm animals. Zane woke up a little extra clingy so we snuggled in bed for awhile which was delightful, but put us way behind schedule. I rushed us to the show, only to struggle to find parking that wasn't $20, and rushed us inside to see all the bunnies and chickens and horses and sheep and goats and pigs and llamas and donkeys.... oh my! Zane enjoyed the "petting farm" and desperately wanted to hold the bunnies, but we were both toast within 30 minutes. He was overdue for lunch and a nap, and I was way overstimulated.
So we rushed home with his favorite CD turned up loudly for distraction and upon arriving at our house, I locked our keys in the car. After calling Mr. Spicy for rescue, and being rescued by a kind neighbor, I finally got us inside, fed Zane quickly and rushed him upstairs to nap.
He woke up only 30 minutes later, hands in his mouth, complaining of teething pain. So, we snuggled in bed again and soon it was time to head out the door to take our dog to the vet for an urgent appointment.
Two hours later, we were finally leaving the vet with not so good news about our beloved pup. Zane was hungry again and I had a splitting headache. As we drove home I called Mr. Spicy.
"I feel like a total failure as a mom! I can't even manage to have a nice sweet day with my son for his birthday. I really needed this day to be special for both of us and instead it just feels rushed and stressful and it's all my fault!"
After some reassurance from my loving (and forgiving) husband, I made it home. And though I had planned to make a special meal and enjoy a family dinner around the table sharing stories and celebrating together, it was not to be. Instead, we sat on either side of his highchair, feeding him yet more cake, and two of his favorite veggies, watching in amazement as he picked up his spoon, dipped it into his cake, and brought it to his mouth as if he had been doing this all his life! We laughed with him. We told him how much we love him, how much joy he brings us. We talked about his birth.
Over peas and sweet potatoes, we celebrated. We toasted him with goat's milk. And we laughed. We laughed and laughed.
We laughed as we played "peek-a-boo", marching up the stairs to bath.
We laughed as he splashed and brushed his own wet hair in the bath.
We laughed as we prepared for bed and read our stories.
And just before he laid down to sleep we said our prayers and thanked God for this little miraculous boy and we told him once more just how very very happy we are that he is here.
Thank you, Zane for coming to make us a family. Thank you for being so thoroughly, entirely, uniquely "you". We love you so.
Happy Happy Birthday little man.
January 21, 2010
January 19, 2010
Mothering and Depression
Lately I have been full with thoughts, with words, with emotions. So full I can not seem to find a way to spill them out here, or anywhere else. But afraid if I don't somehow capture this time it will slip away, out of my mind, my heart, my memories. Afraid to forget.
Motherhood is a hard thing for me to write about. It is ripe with contradictions and cliches. Everything I have felt, or feel, is unique and at the same time completely mundane. The experience is mine, and not mine. It is my story, and the story of millions of other mothers who have gone before me, walk beside me, or will come after me. There is nothing new under the sun.
I have never before loved like I have loved my child. I have never willingly suffered as I have this past year. I have never been so full, so whole, and so empty and broken at the same time.
As we approach Zane's first birthday I find myself constantly looking back and looking within. It has been my first year as "Mama". I still feel new at this. I still feel like I am in training. Sometimes I still can't believe it.
I look at Zane and I can still see that newborn, still smell him. I can still see the first time he rolled over, can still hear his first laugh. I still feel that first kiss, the weight of him in the sling when he was so much smaller, his soft fuzzy baby chick hair. It is all still there.
I can also still feel the weight of sleep deprivation, the frustration and anger of waking for the fifth time in a night, the pit of darkness that swallowed me in the worst nights of depression. I remember the thoughts that I was failing as a mother, that my husband and child would be better off without me, that I couldn't take it anymore. It is all still there.
Today, Zane is a toddler (or technically a "crawdler", if you will). He is rich with expression and opinion and independence. He is a delight, he is a challenge. He is my greatest joy.
Today, I am a Mama seasoned by my experiences, my small victories and failures, rich with both insight and questions, and filled with humility.
I have struggled with post-partum depression more often and to a greater depth this year than I have had the strength or courage to admit here, or to many people in my life. There were 3-5 months that felt like I was walking through darkness, feeling my way. There would be patches of light, of hope, and beautiful wonderful moments, whole stretches of days when I would breathe fresh air and feel the sunlight and love my life. But then a few rough nights without sleep, travel, illnesses, or various other disruptions would send me back into the cave.
Looking back, I have a lot of regrets. I miss those months, weeks, days, hours, that ppd took from me. I am sad that although I fought hard to be present and whole with my son, I know I didn't fully experience him in the ways I longed to. I know I missed a lot of moments. I regret that I couldn't or wouldn't be more open with people who love me, or even just here for starters. I am sad that sometimes those who did know weren't always able to be there for me in the ways I needed, or just didn't understand. I regret that I wasn't always able to receive the help from those who did know and understand and wanted to be there for me. I wish that such a large portion of my first year as a mother and Zane's first year of life wasn't tainted by my illness. I wish I didn't still feel like I failed somehow.
All that being said, I have a lot I am grateful for and proud of as well. I am thankful that my partner and I (and a dear friend who watched Zane every week) made it possible and a priority that I had time with a kind and experienced therapist every week, which was truly life-saving for me. I am grateful for the night shifts my partner took so that I could get the sleep that was so crucial to my recovery. I am humbled by the prayers and support of an estranged friend who fought her own long battle with ppd. I am proud that even in the depths of the darkest hours, I fought hard and for the most part was able to stay present with my son, to celebrate him, to comfort him, to play with him, to teach him, to be consistent - and that when I felt unable to do so, I stepped away to recompose myself to come back to him more whole. I cherish that my son is so obviously well-adjusted, secure, and filled with joy and adventure, in spite of my depression.
I know there is no guarantee that my ppd won't resurface. I know for a fact that I still have much work to do to fully heal. But, for now, I am grateful to feel this recent freedom from it. I am looking forward to the year to come. And whatever regrets I have about the year that has passed, I look at my son, and I know I have mothered him well, as well as I am able. I know without a doubt there is nothing I would not do to be a good and healthy mother for him. That is by far the biggest accomplishment of my life thus far. I am reminded that there is far more good in me and a greater capacity to love than I have ever given myself credit for.
Motherhood is a long journey. This was just my first chapter. What a way to start.
Motherhood is a hard thing for me to write about. It is ripe with contradictions and cliches. Everything I have felt, or feel, is unique and at the same time completely mundane. The experience is mine, and not mine. It is my story, and the story of millions of other mothers who have gone before me, walk beside me, or will come after me. There is nothing new under the sun.
I have never before loved like I have loved my child. I have never willingly suffered as I have this past year. I have never been so full, so whole, and so empty and broken at the same time.
As we approach Zane's first birthday I find myself constantly looking back and looking within. It has been my first year as "Mama". I still feel new at this. I still feel like I am in training. Sometimes I still can't believe it.
I look at Zane and I can still see that newborn, still smell him. I can still see the first time he rolled over, can still hear his first laugh. I still feel that first kiss, the weight of him in the sling when he was so much smaller, his soft fuzzy baby chick hair. It is all still there.
I can also still feel the weight of sleep deprivation, the frustration and anger of waking for the fifth time in a night, the pit of darkness that swallowed me in the worst nights of depression. I remember the thoughts that I was failing as a mother, that my husband and child would be better off without me, that I couldn't take it anymore. It is all still there.
Today, Zane is a toddler (or technically a "crawdler", if you will). He is rich with expression and opinion and independence. He is a delight, he is a challenge. He is my greatest joy.
Today, I am a Mama seasoned by my experiences, my small victories and failures, rich with both insight and questions, and filled with humility.
I have struggled with post-partum depression more often and to a greater depth this year than I have had the strength or courage to admit here, or to many people in my life. There were 3-5 months that felt like I was walking through darkness, feeling my way. There would be patches of light, of hope, and beautiful wonderful moments, whole stretches of days when I would breathe fresh air and feel the sunlight and love my life. But then a few rough nights without sleep, travel, illnesses, or various other disruptions would send me back into the cave.
Looking back, I have a lot of regrets. I miss those months, weeks, days, hours, that ppd took from me. I am sad that although I fought hard to be present and whole with my son, I know I didn't fully experience him in the ways I longed to. I know I missed a lot of moments. I regret that I couldn't or wouldn't be more open with people who love me, or even just here for starters. I am sad that sometimes those who did know weren't always able to be there for me in the ways I needed, or just didn't understand. I regret that I wasn't always able to receive the help from those who did know and understand and wanted to be there for me. I wish that such a large portion of my first year as a mother and Zane's first year of life wasn't tainted by my illness. I wish I didn't still feel like I failed somehow.
All that being said, I have a lot I am grateful for and proud of as well. I am thankful that my partner and I (and a dear friend who watched Zane every week) made it possible and a priority that I had time with a kind and experienced therapist every week, which was truly life-saving for me. I am grateful for the night shifts my partner took so that I could get the sleep that was so crucial to my recovery. I am humbled by the prayers and support of an estranged friend who fought her own long battle with ppd. I am proud that even in the depths of the darkest hours, I fought hard and for the most part was able to stay present with my son, to celebrate him, to comfort him, to play with him, to teach him, to be consistent - and that when I felt unable to do so, I stepped away to recompose myself to come back to him more whole. I cherish that my son is so obviously well-adjusted, secure, and filled with joy and adventure, in spite of my depression.
I know there is no guarantee that my ppd won't resurface. I know for a fact that I still have much work to do to fully heal. But, for now, I am grateful to feel this recent freedom from it. I am looking forward to the year to come. And whatever regrets I have about the year that has passed, I look at my son, and I know I have mothered him well, as well as I am able. I know without a doubt there is nothing I would not do to be a good and healthy mother for him. That is by far the biggest accomplishment of my life thus far. I am reminded that there is far more good in me and a greater capacity to love than I have ever given myself credit for.
Motherhood is a long journey. This was just my first chapter. What a way to start.
January 01, 2010
Small Miracles
Happy New Year!
So much to reflect on, so much to celebrate and acknowledge. In many ways the best and hardest year of my life. I hope to explore this more in the days and weeks to come.
But tonight I just want to share a few moments and mini-miracles from our holidays.
Today I caught my 11 month old son carefully unloading the dishwasher, piece by piece, placing each utensil carefully and directly into the garbage can. A year ago he wasn't even here (at least not on the outside). Now I see this toddler standing before me, wide-eyed and full of adventure. This feels miraculous and wonderful. I truly cannot wait for the moments to come.
Today, during bath time, I noticed my son standing in the tub beginning to poop (again). Without a single thought I quickly reached out and caught it in my hand. My husband and I laughed and he chuckled, "Wow, you really are a mom!"
Indeed.
On Christmas Eve, in bleary-eyed sleep exhausted hopefulness, I mentioned to my husband that perhaps we would receive a Christmas miracle and our son would sleep through the night, finally. He slept a record nine and a half hours straight that night to our complete bewilderment and gratitude.
We have embarked on actively shaping Zane's sleep habits with the intent of helping him to sleep through the night and fall asleep on his own (we are using methods mostly from this book). Not only has he given us nights of ten and a half hours of sleep (new record) and seven hours of sleep (literally unheard of in months!) but tonight, after our bedtime ritual and kissing him good night, I sat in our rocking chair and watched my baby quietly and peacefully fall asleep on his own without a single tear. This feels like a miracle and a place I nearly stopped believing we would ever see. I am so proud of him, and of us.
We are all embarking on a new chapter together. A new year. A new decade. I feel hopeful and blessed.
2010....bring it on!
So much to reflect on, so much to celebrate and acknowledge. In many ways the best and hardest year of my life. I hope to explore this more in the days and weeks to come.
But tonight I just want to share a few moments and mini-miracles from our holidays.
Today I caught my 11 month old son carefully unloading the dishwasher, piece by piece, placing each utensil carefully and directly into the garbage can. A year ago he wasn't even here (at least not on the outside). Now I see this toddler standing before me, wide-eyed and full of adventure. This feels miraculous and wonderful. I truly cannot wait for the moments to come.
Today, during bath time, I noticed my son standing in the tub beginning to poop (again). Without a single thought I quickly reached out and caught it in my hand. My husband and I laughed and he chuckled, "Wow, you really are a mom!"
Indeed.
On Christmas Eve, in bleary-eyed sleep exhausted hopefulness, I mentioned to my husband that perhaps we would receive a Christmas miracle and our son would sleep through the night, finally. He slept a record nine and a half hours straight that night to our complete bewilderment and gratitude.
We have embarked on actively shaping Zane's sleep habits with the intent of helping him to sleep through the night and fall asleep on his own (we are using methods mostly from this book). Not only has he given us nights of ten and a half hours of sleep (new record) and seven hours of sleep (literally unheard of in months!) but tonight, after our bedtime ritual and kissing him good night, I sat in our rocking chair and watched my baby quietly and peacefully fall asleep on his own without a single tear. This feels like a miracle and a place I nearly stopped believing we would ever see. I am so proud of him, and of us.
We are all embarking on a new chapter together. A new year. A new decade. I feel hopeful and blessed.
2010....bring it on!
December 20, 2009
The Spirit of Christmas
No matter how difficult the last few months have been, or this week has been, I cannot help but feel a sense of quiet joy and wonder as we approach our very first Christmas with Zane.
It is not lost on me that there were years that during this season I felt the emptiness of trying so hard for a child and not having one. There was something, someone, missing.
Now he is here and everything has changed. We are discovering the season together, side by side. He is opening my eyes to magic, and wonder, and possibility, and beauty.
Every morning we make our way downstairs and greet our Christmas tree. We picked her out together, and Zane watched me string lights around her boughs. When we greet her, we first smell her rich piney scent, then we run our fingers through her needles, and sometimes we even give her kisses and thank her for being our Christmas tree. We always give her a nice big drink of water as well.
It occurred to me today that this is the first of many Christmas traditions I am building with my son. The amazing part is how it just happened. It didn't require a lot of thought or planning or research. It just seemed like the thing to do. And now we have this special moment every day that we share together.
For years this season was a reminder of what I lacked, what I longed for. For years I struggled to find the joy of the holiday.
Now, through the wide eyes of my little boy, and in his smile and his laughter - I am rediscovering my own joy, my own wonder, my own Christmas spirit.
This may turn out to be the best Christmas ever.
Disclaimer: I do realize, in light of my last post, that this one might seem a bit over-the-top hopeful or even bipolar. I am still tired, still finding my way, but today I just couldn't help but feel hopeful as I realized the tremendous gift I have been given in my son, my family, and was reminded how very hard it was for us to get here. So, in the spirit of hope and gratitude, this is what came up. And it hardly does justice to what I am feeling and what I am hoping for.
It is not lost on me that there were years that during this season I felt the emptiness of trying so hard for a child and not having one. There was something, someone, missing.
Now he is here and everything has changed. We are discovering the season together, side by side. He is opening my eyes to magic, and wonder, and possibility, and beauty.
Every morning we make our way downstairs and greet our Christmas tree. We picked her out together, and Zane watched me string lights around her boughs. When we greet her, we first smell her rich piney scent, then we run our fingers through her needles, and sometimes we even give her kisses and thank her for being our Christmas tree. We always give her a nice big drink of water as well.
It occurred to me today that this is the first of many Christmas traditions I am building with my son. The amazing part is how it just happened. It didn't require a lot of thought or planning or research. It just seemed like the thing to do. And now we have this special moment every day that we share together.
For years this season was a reminder of what I lacked, what I longed for. For years I struggled to find the joy of the holiday.
Now, through the wide eyes of my little boy, and in his smile and his laughter - I am rediscovering my own joy, my own wonder, my own Christmas spirit.
This may turn out to be the best Christmas ever.
Disclaimer: I do realize, in light of my last post, that this one might seem a bit over-the-top hopeful or even bipolar. I am still tired, still finding my way, but today I just couldn't help but feel hopeful as I realized the tremendous gift I have been given in my son, my family, and was reminded how very hard it was for us to get here. So, in the spirit of hope and gratitude, this is what came up. And it hardly does justice to what I am feeling and what I am hoping for.
December 18, 2009
Truth
In the last three months...... (in no particular order)
We completely remodeled our upstairs, living in our dining room for a full month and dealing with the post-construction deep cleaning of our entire house twice.
Mr. Spicy and I both had the swine flu.
I had the swine flu on a week that Mr. Spicy had to be out of town for work.
Our oven died.
We moved Zane into his own room.
I traveled alone with Zane across two time zones, and visiting two different states, taking two plane rides, and four trains.
Zane has suffered with the croup, two bad colds, two severe ear infections, Roseola, diarrhea, and a possible urinary tract infection.
We have suffered with each illness as well.
We traveled for two weeks as a family, across two time zones, visiting family, only to come home to a house covered in construction dust.
I have battled sleep deprivation and bouts of post-partum depression more often than I would like to admit.
It's been rough. I am not even sure if the list above does it justice. I am exhausted and it feels like just as I find my equilibrium, just as I am sleeping a bit more feeling more myself, just as Zane is healthy and actually able to venture out into the world again. Bam!
This week I was feeling good, I was planning on signing up for an art class in January, finally feeling free and excited to take a little time for myself on a regular basis. I was keeping up with housework, making delicious dinners, doing loving things for my husband, spending time with a friend.
Then Wednesday night Zane spiked a fever and was up literally from midnight to 6am. And although Mr. Spicy and I have been doing shifts at night so I can get more sleep, there was no chance I was going to sleep through this, so I stayed with Z all night, just holding him and worrying. A visit to the Dr. confirmed a nasty ear infection. But Thu. night wasn't much better.
I have learned in the last three months that my depression is pretty much guaranteed to show up when I am not getting enough sleep. And sure enough, it's back. And I feel so incredibly discouraged. I hate being here. I want the energy and the joy I felt earlier in the week. I want to finish decorating our little tree, finish Christmas shopping, sing carols to Zane. Instead I am sitting un-showered, in disheveled pj's trying to muster up the energy to make a sandwich to eat.
I feel so angry. I feel like I am being robbed of the delight I want to be feeling for my son and my life right now. I feel like just as I climb up and out of this, I get a boot to the face again.
I hate to even be writing this. This is not what I want to remember of this time, this is not who I want to be. I feel like I am complaining and being negative and I have so much good to be celebrating instead. But maybe that's another post for another day.
It has been a hard few months. I am careworn and dog-tired.
I think I just needed to say that and have it be ok.
It is hard to give myself permission to say that I am struggling. It is hard to admit that life isn't what I would hope right now. It is hard to admit I am not always strong enough to make it all better on my own. It is hard to not feel like I am failing. It is hard not to be angry at everyone else in the world who seems to be ok. It is hard not to feel like a total loser.
I don't know what else to say.
I love being a mother. I love being Zane's mom. That much is certain. He is the most incredible little person and I absolutely adore him. I would do anything for him.
But damn, it is hard being a mama right now.
We completely remodeled our upstairs, living in our dining room for a full month and dealing with the post-construction deep cleaning of our entire house twice.
Mr. Spicy and I both had the swine flu.
I had the swine flu on a week that Mr. Spicy had to be out of town for work.
Our oven died.
We moved Zane into his own room.
I traveled alone with Zane across two time zones, and visiting two different states, taking two plane rides, and four trains.
Zane has suffered with the croup, two bad colds, two severe ear infections, Roseola, diarrhea, and a possible urinary tract infection.
We have suffered with each illness as well.
We traveled for two weeks as a family, across two time zones, visiting family, only to come home to a house covered in construction dust.
I have battled sleep deprivation and bouts of post-partum depression more often than I would like to admit.
It's been rough. I am not even sure if the list above does it justice. I am exhausted and it feels like just as I find my equilibrium, just as I am sleeping a bit more feeling more myself, just as Zane is healthy and actually able to venture out into the world again. Bam!
This week I was feeling good, I was planning on signing up for an art class in January, finally feeling free and excited to take a little time for myself on a regular basis. I was keeping up with housework, making delicious dinners, doing loving things for my husband, spending time with a friend.
Then Wednesday night Zane spiked a fever and was up literally from midnight to 6am. And although Mr. Spicy and I have been doing shifts at night so I can get more sleep, there was no chance I was going to sleep through this, so I stayed with Z all night, just holding him and worrying. A visit to the Dr. confirmed a nasty ear infection. But Thu. night wasn't much better.
I have learned in the last three months that my depression is pretty much guaranteed to show up when I am not getting enough sleep. And sure enough, it's back. And I feel so incredibly discouraged. I hate being here. I want the energy and the joy I felt earlier in the week. I want to finish decorating our little tree, finish Christmas shopping, sing carols to Zane. Instead I am sitting un-showered, in disheveled pj's trying to muster up the energy to make a sandwich to eat.
I feel so angry. I feel like I am being robbed of the delight I want to be feeling for my son and my life right now. I feel like just as I climb up and out of this, I get a boot to the face again.
I hate to even be writing this. This is not what I want to remember of this time, this is not who I want to be. I feel like I am complaining and being negative and I have so much good to be celebrating instead. But maybe that's another post for another day.
It has been a hard few months. I am careworn and dog-tired.
I think I just needed to say that and have it be ok.
It is hard to give myself permission to say that I am struggling. It is hard to admit that life isn't what I would hope right now. It is hard to admit I am not always strong enough to make it all better on my own. It is hard to not feel like I am failing. It is hard not to be angry at everyone else in the world who seems to be ok. It is hard not to feel like a total loser.
I don't know what else to say.
I love being a mother. I love being Zane's mom. That much is certain. He is the most incredible little person and I absolutely adore him. I would do anything for him.
But damn, it is hard being a mama right now.
November 17, 2009
'Tis the Season....
Well I am taking Zane back to the doctor again today. Sigh.
First it was croup. Then last week he had a cold and a fever for 3 days. Now he's spiked another fever for the last 24 hours and he's all congested. Not sure if it's just another virus or some bacterial infection worked its way in while he was weakened. Either way....poor baby. And poor Mama!
I hope we can finally kick this thing in the butt. I am doing everything supportively I can: chest rubs with Eucalptus Radiata and Lavender, steam, cold-mist humidifier, herbal remedies where appropriate to ease his cough and help him rest, homeopathics to help with the sinus congestion, Motrin when needed to bring down the fever and ease his achiness. (all reccommedned by and approved by our pediatrician) I am taking mega doses of Vitamin C, Echinacea/Goldenseal, probiotics, herbal immune booster, whatever I can to hopefully add a little immune boost to my breast milk for him.
One problem with being so proactive and naturally minded when it comes to health issues is that you begin to believe you can heal almost anything with the right supplements and diet. Your body knows how to heal itself you just need to support it...blah blah blah. So when your son gets sick over and over in a three week period and you can't magically make it better you (meaning "I") feel like shit.
I feel like I am failing somehow, like it's my job to keep him healthy. The not so comforting alternative, and probably the truth, is just that we have hit that season - the one where your kiddo seems to be constantly fighting off one thing or another. Bummer.
Selfishly? There is something really sweet about cuddling and rocking my sweet sick little boy and knowing I am making him feel better. Even if I don't have some magic lasso or wrist cuffs that could blast that virus into the next galaxy.
If only.
First it was croup. Then last week he had a cold and a fever for 3 days. Now he's spiked another fever for the last 24 hours and he's all congested. Not sure if it's just another virus or some bacterial infection worked its way in while he was weakened. Either way....poor baby. And poor Mama!
I hope we can finally kick this thing in the butt. I am doing everything supportively I can: chest rubs with Eucalptus Radiata and Lavender, steam, cold-mist humidifier, herbal remedies where appropriate to ease his cough and help him rest, homeopathics to help with the sinus congestion, Motrin when needed to bring down the fever and ease his achiness. (all reccommedned by and approved by our pediatrician) I am taking mega doses of Vitamin C, Echinacea/Goldenseal, probiotics, herbal immune booster, whatever I can to hopefully add a little immune boost to my breast milk for him.
One problem with being so proactive and naturally minded when it comes to health issues is that you begin to believe you can heal almost anything with the right supplements and diet. Your body knows how to heal itself you just need to support it...blah blah blah. So when your son gets sick over and over in a three week period and you can't magically make it better you (meaning "I") feel like shit.
I feel like I am failing somehow, like it's my job to keep him healthy. The not so comforting alternative, and probably the truth, is just that we have hit that season - the one where your kiddo seems to be constantly fighting off one thing or another. Bummer.
Selfishly? There is something really sweet about cuddling and rocking my sweet sick little boy and knowing I am making him feel better. Even if I don't have some magic lasso or wrist cuffs that could blast that virus into the next galaxy.
If only.
November 11, 2009
Thirsty?
I left Zane alone in the dining room (aka our bedroom at the moment) for a few minutes and when I returned....
I found him pressing his face to the floor eagerly slurping up water he had just poured there from a cup (plastic thankfully) he had grabbed off of a bar-stool-height chair.
Dude. I totally would have gotten you some clean water.
Oh well....at least it wasn't something stronger*. :)
I found him pressing his face to the floor eagerly slurping up water he had just poured there from a cup (plastic thankfully) he had grabbed off of a bar-stool-height chair.
Dude. I totally would have gotten you some clean water.
Oh well....at least it wasn't something stronger*. :)
November 04, 2009
Rhymes with Poop
Croup.
My little guy has it. He first developed a fever on Friday, then the croupy cough and stridor on Sat. night. By Monday at 5am, despite our many trips into the cool night air and steam sessions in the bathroom, we found ourselves in the ER.
After a breathing treatment and dose of steroid he passed out on my chest and slept for the remainder of our required 3 hours of observation.
He's slowly recuperating but still has a nasty cough and can't sleep more than 20 min or so unless held in our arms in a somewhat upright position.
My poor poor baby!
We are heading back into the doc today.
It is amazing what havoc having a sick baby can bring upon your lives. Thank goodness for a dear friend who came yesterday to help me dig out from under the pile of dirty dishes and laundry!
I really hope he starts feeling a lot better soon. His little voice is so hoarse that he barely makes a sound when he cries. It just breaks my heart.
My little guy has it. He first developed a fever on Friday, then the croupy cough and stridor on Sat. night. By Monday at 5am, despite our many trips into the cool night air and steam sessions in the bathroom, we found ourselves in the ER.
After a breathing treatment and dose of steroid he passed out on my chest and slept for the remainder of our required 3 hours of observation.
He's slowly recuperating but still has a nasty cough and can't sleep more than 20 min or so unless held in our arms in a somewhat upright position.
My poor poor baby!
We are heading back into the doc today.
It is amazing what havoc having a sick baby can bring upon your lives. Thank goodness for a dear friend who came yesterday to help me dig out from under the pile of dirty dishes and laundry!
I really hope he starts feeling a lot better soon. His little voice is so hoarse that he barely makes a sound when he cries. It just breaks my heart.
October 19, 2009
Sleep and Redemption
Oh dear! Has it really been that long?
I have been in such a fog these last few weeks. First it was the sleep deprivation....who am I kidding, it is still the sleep deprivation....then depression kicked in. That awful sort of depression that feels tied to everything and nothing in particular. The kind you know has some physiological basis to it (lack of sleep perhaps) but also seems tied to every loose string in your quickly unraveling psyche.
Oh and then? I got the swine flu. And my husband had multiple trips for work scheduled and I had to somehow manage to nurse myself back to health while caring for an extremely active and adventurous 8 month old little boy. Nothing like being kicked when you are down.
Then my husband came home and he got the flu. And things have been pretty bleak if you can imagine.
Also, we moved ourselves (and everything else from upstairs) from our bedroom upstairs to our downstairs dining room so that our floors upstairs could be done. Currently we sleep in our dining room and Zane sleeps in the guest room. We are living a cramped and cluttered existence for a few weeks.
One saving grace, thank God, is that Zane has not shown any major flu symptoms other than a little congestion and a slight cough. I am praying this continues.
In the thick of this chaos and confusion we have been slowly teaching Zane about sleeping. And we've made some significant progress. He has slept through the night (anywhere from 5 to 9 hours straight) multiple times in the last few weeks which while not consistent is nearly a miracle in our books. He also has learned how to fall back asleep on his own when he awakens and I can hear him doing this (without tears) a few times every night. He still needs us to come in at least once or twice a night (sometimes much more on a rough night) to help him fall back asleep when he can't do it on his own, which we are much happier to do now that it isn't every hour on the hour. He is taking regular naps and he is going to bed much earlier in the evening. Things seem to be improving bit by bit.
This season has taught me so much about the fragile balance I walk in mothering. Every piece of mothering is tied to some thing else inside of me. Lack of sleep, desperation, being so needed so constantly.....brings me to the brink of my own humanity, my own woundedness, the places in me that long for a type of mothering I did not always receive when I was small and needy. Teaching my son to sleep, moving him in his own room, listening to him wake briefly and quickly go back to sleep without my help.....brings up my own ambivalence about letting him grow up, letting him get big and strong, letting him go. In the midst of this, I have learned something amazing about my strength, my inherent goodness, my ability to give so much more than I thought I had to give, my ability to endure and struggle for the good of another. I feel like these past few months, and especially this recent difficult season, have forced change in me so deep and thorough that the very marrow in my bones is no longer the same.
I am a mother now.
I am changed.
Nothing will ever be the same.
And that is, at times, both terrifying and thoroughly incredibly redemptive.
I have been in such a fog these last few weeks. First it was the sleep deprivation....who am I kidding, it is still the sleep deprivation....then depression kicked in. That awful sort of depression that feels tied to everything and nothing in particular. The kind you know has some physiological basis to it (lack of sleep perhaps) but also seems tied to every loose string in your quickly unraveling psyche.
Oh and then? I got the swine flu. And my husband had multiple trips for work scheduled and I had to somehow manage to nurse myself back to health while caring for an extremely active and adventurous 8 month old little boy. Nothing like being kicked when you are down.
Then my husband came home and he got the flu. And things have been pretty bleak if you can imagine.
Also, we moved ourselves (and everything else from upstairs) from our bedroom upstairs to our downstairs dining room so that our floors upstairs could be done. Currently we sleep in our dining room and Zane sleeps in the guest room. We are living a cramped and cluttered existence for a few weeks.
One saving grace, thank God, is that Zane has not shown any major flu symptoms other than a little congestion and a slight cough. I am praying this continues.
In the thick of this chaos and confusion we have been slowly teaching Zane about sleeping. And we've made some significant progress. He has slept through the night (anywhere from 5 to 9 hours straight) multiple times in the last few weeks which while not consistent is nearly a miracle in our books. He also has learned how to fall back asleep on his own when he awakens and I can hear him doing this (without tears) a few times every night. He still needs us to come in at least once or twice a night (sometimes much more on a rough night) to help him fall back asleep when he can't do it on his own, which we are much happier to do now that it isn't every hour on the hour. He is taking regular naps and he is going to bed much earlier in the evening. Things seem to be improving bit by bit.
This season has taught me so much about the fragile balance I walk in mothering. Every piece of mothering is tied to some thing else inside of me. Lack of sleep, desperation, being so needed so constantly.....brings me to the brink of my own humanity, my own woundedness, the places in me that long for a type of mothering I did not always receive when I was small and needy. Teaching my son to sleep, moving him in his own room, listening to him wake briefly and quickly go back to sleep without my help.....brings up my own ambivalence about letting him grow up, letting him get big and strong, letting him go. In the midst of this, I have learned something amazing about my strength, my inherent goodness, my ability to give so much more than I thought I had to give, my ability to endure and struggle for the good of another. I feel like these past few months, and especially this recent difficult season, have forced change in me so deep and thorough that the very marrow in my bones is no longer the same.
I am a mother now.
I am changed.
Nothing will ever be the same.
And that is, at times, both terrifying and thoroughly incredibly redemptive.
October 02, 2009
In the thick of it.....and the thin....
Lets start with the "thick of it"....I feel like I may have left you hanging with my last couple of posts about our dire sleep situation. I know a few of you are wondering how we've been faring and whether the temporary solution has been working.
Well....yes and no.
I can't get into all the details right now because I feel like I am right in the "thick" of this and can't really speak well to it all with any perspective. But I have been getting slightly more sleep thanks to Mr. Spicy. I got 4 hours straight last week and 6 hours straight last night. Which is kind of amazing at this point. But still, not enough.
It has become obvious that my body and brain have been pretty beaten up with chronic sleep deprivation and it is going to take a lot more TLC to get me anywhere close to "normal". Mr. Spicy has been a big help, as has my counselor, and a few friends have stepped up and offered my help as well, which has been humbling and also a tremendous relief. Unfortunately, the plans I had this week for a few friends to help out fell through for various reasons, but next week will hopefully be much better.
My therapist and I are working through and monitoring some symptoms of post-partum depression that have recently popped up as a result of my utter exhaustion and we are working on a strategy to help teach Zane how to fall asleep on his own as gently and non-traumatically as possible (I will talk more about this later as I find out if it works or not and have more perspective on it. For now, suffice to say it is hard work but feels very necessary for all three of us).
It feels like we are standing at a crossroad. I am trying to move forward with gentleness and guidance to make wise and loving choices for both myself and Zane. I am being called into a new place within motherhood and I am trying my best to answer that call well for us both.
I will say that the more I work on this....his sleeping, my self-care, and all the various subtle issues in between....the more work I do, the more I am appreciating and loving Zane for just who he is today and finding myself more and more engaged and excited about who he is becoming as well.
----------------------------------------------
And now the "thin" :
Me!
I just have to brag a bit because I am so proud of myself today.
Since my gallbladder attack in June I have been strictly on a low fat, portion controlled diet. I have also been walking several times a week.
Since June 21st I have lost 20.6 pounds!!!
I am thinner than I have been in years. Which, isn't saying a whole lot since I still have at least 10 more pounds to go before I hit the weight I am most comfortable at.
I have been carrying around 30+ pounds of extra weight for years, blaming it on the infertility, depression, etc. Even after I shed nearly the entire 35lbs of pregnancy weight, I held onto those extra 30lbs. I never felt attractive at that weight and it affected so many aspects of my life. I became less active, my sexuality took a nose-dive (much to the dismay of my husband), and I just generally didn't feel "myself" moving through the world.
So much of my weight issue was due to emotionally-driven eating. Having gallstones forced me to eat smaller portions, to think more about what I was putting in my mouth, and to eat for energy and sustenance rather than comfort or distraction. In a way the gallstones have been a blessing in disguise.
So, thanks to gallstones, I am healthier, more active, and happier with my body than I have been in a very very long time. (Except during pregnancy - I loved my body during pregnancy)
As for those pesky gallstones? Well, I had another "attack" a few weeks ago, even on the low fat diet. (grrrrr......) So yesterday I met with a GI specialist and he is running multiple tests on me (including an upper GI endoscopy) to rule out any other causes of the abdominal pain. If it truly is those damn gallstones I may have to go ahead and have my gall bladder removed which I really wanted to avoid. Especially now that those gallstones are working so well for me! :)
I really don't have a great profound closing thought....so I will just ask for good thoughts/prayers as we navigate this season and hopefully move towards a healthier more rested Mama and baby.
Thanks to all who have offered your support this far. It helps so much!
Well....yes and no.
I can't get into all the details right now because I feel like I am right in the "thick" of this and can't really speak well to it all with any perspective. But I have been getting slightly more sleep thanks to Mr. Spicy. I got 4 hours straight last week and 6 hours straight last night. Which is kind of amazing at this point. But still, not enough.
It has become obvious that my body and brain have been pretty beaten up with chronic sleep deprivation and it is going to take a lot more TLC to get me anywhere close to "normal". Mr. Spicy has been a big help, as has my counselor, and a few friends have stepped up and offered my help as well, which has been humbling and also a tremendous relief. Unfortunately, the plans I had this week for a few friends to help out fell through for various reasons, but next week will hopefully be much better.
My therapist and I are working through and monitoring some symptoms of post-partum depression that have recently popped up as a result of my utter exhaustion and we are working on a strategy to help teach Zane how to fall asleep on his own as gently and non-traumatically as possible (I will talk more about this later as I find out if it works or not and have more perspective on it. For now, suffice to say it is hard work but feels very necessary for all three of us).
It feels like we are standing at a crossroad. I am trying to move forward with gentleness and guidance to make wise and loving choices for both myself and Zane. I am being called into a new place within motherhood and I am trying my best to answer that call well for us both.
I will say that the more I work on this....his sleeping, my self-care, and all the various subtle issues in between....the more work I do, the more I am appreciating and loving Zane for just who he is today and finding myself more and more engaged and excited about who he is becoming as well.
----------------------------------------------
And now the "thin" :
Me!
I just have to brag a bit because I am so proud of myself today.
Since my gallbladder attack in June I have been strictly on a low fat, portion controlled diet. I have also been walking several times a week.
Since June 21st I have lost 20.6 pounds!!!
I am thinner than I have been in years. Which, isn't saying a whole lot since I still have at least 10 more pounds to go before I hit the weight I am most comfortable at.
I have been carrying around 30+ pounds of extra weight for years, blaming it on the infertility, depression, etc. Even after I shed nearly the entire 35lbs of pregnancy weight, I held onto those extra 30lbs. I never felt attractive at that weight and it affected so many aspects of my life. I became less active, my sexuality took a nose-dive (much to the dismay of my husband), and I just generally didn't feel "myself" moving through the world.
So much of my weight issue was due to emotionally-driven eating. Having gallstones forced me to eat smaller portions, to think more about what I was putting in my mouth, and to eat for energy and sustenance rather than comfort or distraction. In a way the gallstones have been a blessing in disguise.
So, thanks to gallstones, I am healthier, more active, and happier with my body than I have been in a very very long time. (Except during pregnancy - I loved my body during pregnancy)
As for those pesky gallstones? Well, I had another "attack" a few weeks ago, even on the low fat diet. (grrrrr......) So yesterday I met with a GI specialist and he is running multiple tests on me (including an upper GI endoscopy) to rule out any other causes of the abdominal pain. If it truly is those damn gallstones I may have to go ahead and have my gall bladder removed which I really wanted to avoid. Especially now that those gallstones are working so well for me! :)
I really don't have a great profound closing thought....so I will just ask for good thoughts/prayers as we navigate this season and hopefully move towards a healthier more rested Mama and baby.
Thanks to all who have offered your support this far. It helps so much!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)