you were not an average baby. i have mentioned this many times before, but you hated things that babies are supposed to love. the stroller. the car seat. the swing. you needed to be held all the time. and to nurse all the time. you had to bounce. not in the bouncy seat, but in our arms. i couldn't pee without you. most days i still can't. i couldn't take more than a 30 second shower. and that was on the days that i could. many days now i still can't. you don't want me out of your sight. you never have.
i guess some people believe that i have spoiled you -- or even worse -- ruined you.
i always picked you up when you wanted to be picked up. i still do. i kept you with me while we slept. i still do. you are ninteen and a half months old. it's only been the past couple of months that i have been able to sneak away from you during your naps. and it's been maybe about six or seven months since i could get away consistently at night. the time that i am able to stay away varies, but it really is nice to get some time to myself. to be able to pee alone. and cook dinner. and clean the kitchen floor. but i gotta admit. i already miss those hours of just laying on the bed with you. i can only imagine how much i will miss those times when another baby comes along someday. or when you are all grown up and are only napping because you stayed out too late with your friends the night before.
but the point is, you are becoming a big boy already. right before my eyes. all by yourself. on your own terms. you come up to me and tell me when you pooped. you say, "poop" and point to your diaper and say, "off". you say "thank you" to people when they give you something (most of the time it's after we walk away from them, but i still think it's pretty awesome). it's mostly awesome because i never say to you, "say thank you". you say it just because you hear me say it. you amaze me every day. you are becoming such a good sleeper and i am so happy that i never left you to cry alone. i trusted that you would learn to do it by yourself. and you are learning. same with the bath. you hated it unless daddy or i were in there with you. until a few months ago you wouldn't bathe alone. and aside from a couple of weeks in which you refused a bath altogether because of a stupid thing i did, you love baths all by yourself now. you ask for them. i still can't really leave you without a mojor fit. but the truth is, i hate to leave you. yes, it would probably be nice to be able to go anywhere and see you waving to me at the door with daddy holding you -- or even better -- to go somewhere with daddy and see you waving with uncle chris and your cousins. but i have to trust that someday, there will be someplace that i really want to go bad enough that it will be worth it to put us both through the separation and we will do it. and we will both be smiling and waving and blowing kisses. but for now, it's just something we are not ready for. and someday, just like with anything, i will miss the time when you were attached to my hip. you will be out with your friends and i will miss your presence. and someday you will move out of the house. and go to college. get married. or just take off with a backpack and explore the world. and i will miss the hell out of you and look back to the days when i couldn't leave because you wouldn't let me. and i'll miss the hell out of that.
31 January, 2012
birthing babies
i was so lucky to be able to be there for our super awesome friend when her beutiful baby entered this world a few weeks ago. to watch her for eight hours labor naturally and deliver her baby while squatting and being held by her loving hubby was truly a profound and life-altering experience. it was the first birth i had witnessed. and now i sit here waiting for you to wake up so we can join our other super awesome friend as her second baby is born.
i have a whole new perspective on birth than i had three years ago when your brother was born. i remember being sick with pneumonia and hospitalized when cooper was just ten weeks in the belly. i stayed home in bed taking tylenol every four hours as the doctor suggested. i went to three doctor visits. your dad made a million calls to the OB. no one seemed worried. finally we went to the ER on a saturday and they said i had pneumonia and that i would be admitted.
cooper survived that experience and so did i. but it did not cause me to take any responsibility for my own health. i look back at that person and want to slap her. tell her to drink more water. to take healing herbs. to see a naturopath. to sleep. to drink garlic lemonade. that person is a stranger to me now.
this is all coming up for me because although i mothered you natuarally while you were in my womb, i still ended up getting screwed out of the experience of birthing you naturally. we all know the story so i won't go into it again here. but even though i can live with my decision to have the surgery, it doesn't mean i won't mourn the loss of the birthing experience i had hoped for.
seeing my friends getting to labor naturally, seeing everything happen at its own pace, the way nature intended really brings up mixed feelings for me. i look so forward to being able to experience it all. the anticipation of the due date. the first minor cramping. the contractions spaced far apart. then close together. then more intense. the exhaustion. the excitement. the burning. and the feeling when that baby's head finally makes its way out into the world. and then to be able to reach down and scoop that baby up into my arms and hold that baby to my chest. and kiss him (or her). and sharing all of this with your dad. i want to feel it all.
with cooper i had an epidural. and morphine. i could feel nothing. i couldn't move my legs. i was shaky and cold. and sad.
with you i was cut open. you were taken out. i couldn't hold you. i passed out from the shaking and from the pain. it sucked.
and though my two personal birthing experiences were in fact life-altering for me, as well as i guess for many others people, i still am begging the universe for a different story the next time. a story with a different ending.
i have a whole new perspective on birth than i had three years ago when your brother was born. i remember being sick with pneumonia and hospitalized when cooper was just ten weeks in the belly. i stayed home in bed taking tylenol every four hours as the doctor suggested. i went to three doctor visits. your dad made a million calls to the OB. no one seemed worried. finally we went to the ER on a saturday and they said i had pneumonia and that i would be admitted.
cooper survived that experience and so did i. but it did not cause me to take any responsibility for my own health. i look back at that person and want to slap her. tell her to drink more water. to take healing herbs. to see a naturopath. to sleep. to drink garlic lemonade. that person is a stranger to me now.
this is all coming up for me because although i mothered you natuarally while you were in my womb, i still ended up getting screwed out of the experience of birthing you naturally. we all know the story so i won't go into it again here. but even though i can live with my decision to have the surgery, it doesn't mean i won't mourn the loss of the birthing experience i had hoped for.
seeing my friends getting to labor naturally, seeing everything happen at its own pace, the way nature intended really brings up mixed feelings for me. i look so forward to being able to experience it all. the anticipation of the due date. the first minor cramping. the contractions spaced far apart. then close together. then more intense. the exhaustion. the excitement. the burning. and the feeling when that baby's head finally makes its way out into the world. and then to be able to reach down and scoop that baby up into my arms and hold that baby to my chest. and kiss him (or her). and sharing all of this with your dad. i want to feel it all.
with cooper i had an epidural. and morphine. i could feel nothing. i couldn't move my legs. i was shaky and cold. and sad.
with you i was cut open. you were taken out. i couldn't hold you. i passed out from the shaking and from the pain. it sucked.
and though my two personal birthing experiences were in fact life-altering for me, as well as i guess for many others people, i still am begging the universe for a different story the next time. a story with a different ending.
to whom it may concern
January 31, 2012
Garden State Obstetrical and Gynecological Associates
2401 Evesham Rd.
Suite A
Voorhees, NJ 08043
To Whom It May Concern:
On this date four years ago, my water broke while I was teaching a class of twenty-six sixth graders. I was twenty-two weeks and two days pregnant. I called your office immediately, but was put on hold. I called back. Again, I was put on hold. I had just been to your office the night before for the fourth time in about eight weeks complaining of the same brown discharge. I had been given a prescription again to control my “yeast infection”. I talked myself into believing that everything was okay and I went back to teach my last class of the day.
An hour later, I called again and was put on hold. Finally someone picked up and I was instructed to come in immediately. When I got there, I was ushered in to the waiting room. Well, one of your multiple waiting rooms. I was finally seen by Dr. Swift who after a vaginal exam diagnosed that my amniotic sac had ruptured. She also calmly let me know that it had nothing to do with the medication that I had been prescribed by Dr. White.
I went directly to the hospital where I was given multiple vaginal exams by at least two different doctors on your staff. Needless to say, the next day I ended up spiking a fever. I was induced by Dr. Steighner. And five or so hours later, my little son was born. Dr. White was there for the delivery. She asked me at one of my follow-up appointments if I was breastfeeding. Each time I returned to your office, I had to tell at least two people during the course of my visit that my baby had died.
I encourage you to look through my records. The perinatologist’s report came very close to stating that I had bacterial vaginosis. Your practice failed to diagnose that. Because of my lack of knowledge, my trust in your doctors, and the lack of concern on the part of your doctors (I cannot use the term care providers), my baby died.
Four years have passed and the pain still weaves itself into every thread of my life. I am now, however, empowered with knowledge. I have become certified to teach childbirth education classes and am in the process of becoming a labor doula. I am co-leader of the local ICAN chapter and am in the process of starting an Attachment Parenting chapter, as well. I am in touch on a personal level with many, many informed parents. And they are always interested in hearing the story of my baby boy.
I urge you to change your ways. Spend time with the mothers who choose you to care for them. I implore you to care; to listen; to pay attention. Read the charts.
In writing this letter I hope to heal just a little bit more of my self. I need to let you and your practitioners know how much pain I am in and that this pain could have been avoided if someone had just cared…listened….paid attention. And read my chart.
The other reason for this letter, however, is to let you know that as a professional, I cannot recommend your practice to anyone. If a woman hires me as her doula, and is using your for her care, I will support and inform her, but I will not hesitate to share my story. I believe that it is part of my life’s work…my calling, if you may…to help mothers make the best choices when it comes to their prenatal care. And in good conscience, I could never encourage anyone to choose Garden State OB/GYN for that purpose.
Sincerely,
The mother of Cooper Thomas Hare, born prematurely on February 1, 2008
Garden State Obstetrical and Gynecological Associates
2401 Evesham Rd.
Suite A
Voorhees, NJ 08043
To Whom It May Concern:
On this date four years ago, my water broke while I was teaching a class of twenty-six sixth graders. I was twenty-two weeks and two days pregnant. I called your office immediately, but was put on hold. I called back. Again, I was put on hold. I had just been to your office the night before for the fourth time in about eight weeks complaining of the same brown discharge. I had been given a prescription again to control my “yeast infection”. I talked myself into believing that everything was okay and I went back to teach my last class of the day.
An hour later, I called again and was put on hold. Finally someone picked up and I was instructed to come in immediately. When I got there, I was ushered in to the waiting room. Well, one of your multiple waiting rooms. I was finally seen by Dr. Swift who after a vaginal exam diagnosed that my amniotic sac had ruptured. She also calmly let me know that it had nothing to do with the medication that I had been prescribed by Dr. White.
I went directly to the hospital where I was given multiple vaginal exams by at least two different doctors on your staff. Needless to say, the next day I ended up spiking a fever. I was induced by Dr. Steighner. And five or so hours later, my little son was born. Dr. White was there for the delivery. She asked me at one of my follow-up appointments if I was breastfeeding. Each time I returned to your office, I had to tell at least two people during the course of my visit that my baby had died.
I encourage you to look through my records. The perinatologist’s report came very close to stating that I had bacterial vaginosis. Your practice failed to diagnose that. Because of my lack of knowledge, my trust in your doctors, and the lack of concern on the part of your doctors (I cannot use the term care providers), my baby died.
Four years have passed and the pain still weaves itself into every thread of my life. I am now, however, empowered with knowledge. I have become certified to teach childbirth education classes and am in the process of becoming a labor doula. I am co-leader of the local ICAN chapter and am in the process of starting an Attachment Parenting chapter, as well. I am in touch on a personal level with many, many informed parents. And they are always interested in hearing the story of my baby boy.
I urge you to change your ways. Spend time with the mothers who choose you to care for them. I implore you to care; to listen; to pay attention. Read the charts.
In writing this letter I hope to heal just a little bit more of my self. I need to let you and your practitioners know how much pain I am in and that this pain could have been avoided if someone had just cared…listened….paid attention. And read my chart.
The other reason for this letter, however, is to let you know that as a professional, I cannot recommend your practice to anyone. If a woman hires me as her doula, and is using your for her care, I will support and inform her, but I will not hesitate to share my story. I believe that it is part of my life’s work…my calling, if you may…to help mothers make the best choices when it comes to their prenatal care. And in good conscience, I could never encourage anyone to choose Garden State OB/GYN for that purpose.
Sincerely,
The mother of Cooper Thomas Hare, born prematurely on February 1, 2008
27 January, 2012
it's that time of year again
this wednesday will be the fourth anniversary of your brother's birth. and death. it's an overall crappy time of year since your dad is deep into wrestling season so you and i are alone a lot. and it's cold and dark. but on top of it, the thoughts of your brother are always jumping around in my head.
the thoughts vary from day to day. from year to year. but mostly this year during this time, the thoughts have been visions of holding him in my arms while he took those labored breaths. of sobbing and of your dad stroking his tiny head with all of his hair. of asking good old dr. kimberly bridges-white with that oh so very popular practice garden state ob/gyn if he was in pain. and of her telling me 'no, i don't think so'. and of the memory that i did not really believe her.
he was in pain. i know he was.
but now on top of those images and memories, i find myself placing more blame on myself for knowing so little.
for a while i forgave myself for knowing nothing. but these days, these weeks, i have really been hard on myself. i wish i had known to hire a doula who would have known more than i did. i wish i had known anything. i let them induce me because i had gotten a fever (because so many of their grimy fingers had been in my vagina because i didn't know to tell them not to do that) and i didn't even know that the pitocin contractions would be harder than natural ones. so i got the epidural because why should i suffer with this pain when i he wasn't even going to live? and of course i was on my back and tied to a monitor. and i was thirsty. so effing (see i am trying really hard to lay off of the foul language) thirsty. but i could only have ice chips. wtf? so stupid...me and all of their policies and procedures. i wish i had known what i know now.
i am not saying that your brother would have lived. but things would have been different. very different.
had i used a midwife...i mean a home birth midwife who took an hour with me at every appointment to listen to me and to really care about what was happening with me and with my body and my baby, i would have been cared for in a way that both cooper and i deserved. my midwife would have checked me for bv and treated it. and even if she didn't, and my water had still broken, she would have had me stay at home and rest and drink fluids and monitor my temps. and then had i gotten an infection and cooper had to be born, he would have been born quietly and peacefully at home. but let's say i did go to the hospital. and let's say i didn't have a midwife. if i had at least known something. anything other than what i had learned on that g-d baby story, i would have known to tell them not to do vaginal exams on me after my water had broken. why didn't they know that? why? i will never never understand that as long as i live. never. and even if they had done exams and i did spike that fever, and i did have to get induced, i would have known how to deal with those contractions. and at least my little tiny one pound, six ounce baby boy would not have been pumped full of drugs when he was born. maybe he would have had a little bit of fight in him. maybe. and maybe not. but at least if i weren't so drugged up i could have gotten up out of bed and carried him after he died and given him his only bath and dressed him in his tiny little baby doll clothes myself instead of having some strangers do it.
but intead i knew nothing. i had no support from anyone who cared or knew anything, except from your dad who knew nothing, too. all we knew was that we were scared. and our baby was about to die.
and we trusted our doctors.
we didn't know shit.
the thoughts vary from day to day. from year to year. but mostly this year during this time, the thoughts have been visions of holding him in my arms while he took those labored breaths. of sobbing and of your dad stroking his tiny head with all of his hair. of asking good old dr. kimberly bridges-white with that oh so very popular practice garden state ob/gyn if he was in pain. and of her telling me 'no, i don't think so'. and of the memory that i did not really believe her.
he was in pain. i know he was.
but now on top of those images and memories, i find myself placing more blame on myself for knowing so little.
for a while i forgave myself for knowing nothing. but these days, these weeks, i have really been hard on myself. i wish i had known to hire a doula who would have known more than i did. i wish i had known anything. i let them induce me because i had gotten a fever (because so many of their grimy fingers had been in my vagina because i didn't know to tell them not to do that) and i didn't even know that the pitocin contractions would be harder than natural ones. so i got the epidural because why should i suffer with this pain when i he wasn't even going to live? and of course i was on my back and tied to a monitor. and i was thirsty. so effing (see i am trying really hard to lay off of the foul language) thirsty. but i could only have ice chips. wtf? so stupid...me and all of their policies and procedures. i wish i had known what i know now.
i am not saying that your brother would have lived. but things would have been different. very different.
had i used a midwife...i mean a home birth midwife who took an hour with me at every appointment to listen to me and to really care about what was happening with me and with my body and my baby, i would have been cared for in a way that both cooper and i deserved. my midwife would have checked me for bv and treated it. and even if she didn't, and my water had still broken, she would have had me stay at home and rest and drink fluids and monitor my temps. and then had i gotten an infection and cooper had to be born, he would have been born quietly and peacefully at home. but let's say i did go to the hospital. and let's say i didn't have a midwife. if i had at least known something. anything other than what i had learned on that g-d baby story, i would have known to tell them not to do vaginal exams on me after my water had broken. why didn't they know that? why? i will never never understand that as long as i live. never. and even if they had done exams and i did spike that fever, and i did have to get induced, i would have known how to deal with those contractions. and at least my little tiny one pound, six ounce baby boy would not have been pumped full of drugs when he was born. maybe he would have had a little bit of fight in him. maybe. and maybe not. but at least if i weren't so drugged up i could have gotten up out of bed and carried him after he died and given him his only bath and dressed him in his tiny little baby doll clothes myself instead of having some strangers do it.
but intead i knew nothing. i had no support from anyone who cared or knew anything, except from your dad who knew nothing, too. all we knew was that we were scared. and our baby was about to die.
and we trusted our doctors.
we didn't know shit.
11 January, 2012
tiger mom
when i was in my twenties i woke up one day with some bumps on the side of my neck. they itched like hell. i scratched and scratched at them. i went to the doctor and she told me i had swollen glands. wtf? are you serious? i went back after a few days without an appointment when the bumps were worse and asked if the doctor could just look at my neck again. she came out and told me that her office was not mcdonald's and that i needed an appointment if i wanted her to look at my neck again.
i switched doctors and the new doc asked me why i waited so long to get the bumps looked at.
i had shingles.
this new doc was the one who told me years later, when i was ten weeks pregnant with your brother that my fever of 105 that was not going away even with four hour doses of tylenol and advil alternating for ONE WEEK was just a virus and i had to wait it out. i eventually went to the ER and was admitted to the hospital for a week with pneumonia.
you know the story of your brother. misdiagnosed yeast infection. multiple vaginal exams at 22 weeks after water had broken. doctor asking if i was breastfeeding your dead brother at my six-week appointment.
when you were a couple of months old the first ped we were seeing said you were cranky because you had an ear infection. he gave me a script which we never completed and you were the same. you didn't have an ear infection. you were just cranky.
even your doc now who we love told me you had intestinal worms because i was curious about some stringy things in your poop. he gave me a script. i never completed it. you didn't have worms.
you can understand why i don't trust doctors.
so last week when you had a swollen testicle, i was hesitant to call the doctor. i finally did and took you in and was told i needed to take you to the ER immediately because it was possible that you could lose that testicle. i am beating myself up now about not calling sooner. so, lesson from mason learned.
luckily the worst case scenario did not come true this time. you do, however, likely need surgery. you have a hydrocele.
today we have to take you to the pediatric urologist to go over the details.
i am terrified of handing you over to some doctors while you scream and reach for me. i can only imagine the intensity at which you will protest as they try to get you under general anesthesia. you are so young. so little. i am terrified of all of the ways they could screw up.
you are my baby. you are everything for me. everything.
i am putting this in writing. if you have to have the surgery and they screw up in the worst way imaginable, i will have absolutely nothing to lose. i won't be able to live with losing you. i will kill someone. i will.
so today when we meet with this doctor i will be exploring all possible options. and if it turns out that surgery is the only choice, i will make it clear to this doctor how and why i feel the way i do. i am sure your dad will be embarrassed a few times by the end of the appointment. but this guy has to know that you are all i have and that i am a crazy woman when it comes to protecting you.
fuck amy chua. i am the tiger mom.
i switched doctors and the new doc asked me why i waited so long to get the bumps looked at.
i had shingles.
this new doc was the one who told me years later, when i was ten weeks pregnant with your brother that my fever of 105 that was not going away even with four hour doses of tylenol and advil alternating for ONE WEEK was just a virus and i had to wait it out. i eventually went to the ER and was admitted to the hospital for a week with pneumonia.
you know the story of your brother. misdiagnosed yeast infection. multiple vaginal exams at 22 weeks after water had broken. doctor asking if i was breastfeeding your dead brother at my six-week appointment.
when you were a couple of months old the first ped we were seeing said you were cranky because you had an ear infection. he gave me a script which we never completed and you were the same. you didn't have an ear infection. you were just cranky.
even your doc now who we love told me you had intestinal worms because i was curious about some stringy things in your poop. he gave me a script. i never completed it. you didn't have worms.
you can understand why i don't trust doctors.
so last week when you had a swollen testicle, i was hesitant to call the doctor. i finally did and took you in and was told i needed to take you to the ER immediately because it was possible that you could lose that testicle. i am beating myself up now about not calling sooner. so, lesson from mason learned.
luckily the worst case scenario did not come true this time. you do, however, likely need surgery. you have a hydrocele.
today we have to take you to the pediatric urologist to go over the details.
i am terrified of handing you over to some doctors while you scream and reach for me. i can only imagine the intensity at which you will protest as they try to get you under general anesthesia. you are so young. so little. i am terrified of all of the ways they could screw up.
you are my baby. you are everything for me. everything.
i am putting this in writing. if you have to have the surgery and they screw up in the worst way imaginable, i will have absolutely nothing to lose. i won't be able to live with losing you. i will kill someone. i will.
so today when we meet with this doctor i will be exploring all possible options. and if it turns out that surgery is the only choice, i will make it clear to this doctor how and why i feel the way i do. i am sure your dad will be embarrassed a few times by the end of the appointment. but this guy has to know that you are all i have and that i am a crazy woman when it comes to protecting you.
fuck amy chua. i am the tiger mom.
21 December, 2011
memories
i realized tonight while i was getting you to sleep that aside from your dad and your grandmom and grandpop, i spoke to no adults today.
i guess that happens more often than i realize.
it doesn't bother. me
when i told your dad about that he said that you are actually smarter than some adults he knows. and i said totally...and way more interesting.
you are the coolest and most amazing person in the world to me. everything you do, you do with wonder and excitement. you are proud of yourself and you are the most important person in the world to you.
you always amaze me.
you decided a few weeks ago to stop peeing in your diaper. you woke up dry, and i let you have a naked butt all day. you told me every time you had to pee. and since then, you sleep with a pull-up at night (just in case...you have only peed in one twice i think) and other than that, you are diaper-free.
i was totally prepared to have you in diapers at age four. i never planned on "potty training" you. i figured you would do it when you were ready.
and you did.
you still poop in a diaper when i can get one on fast enough. but i know you will do that on the potty when you are ready, too.
just like you will someday sleep through the night when you are ready. (it's awesome that people have stopped asking that question, since i guess they assume all two-year-olds sleep through.)
so here's the thing. so often i am writing a post about something big that's on my mind. i forget to write about the small things like this. there is so much of you that i have never mentioned here. i guess a part of me likes to keep a part of you to myself. but i guess a part of it is that i know everyone knows that their own kid is amazing, so i assume people don't want to hear it.
but part of why i wanted to write a blog was so that i would have a record of our life together.
there is so much i have already forgotten. and that really stinks.
i want to remember everything. like all of the funny things you say and do, all of the times that i literally laugh out loud at something you've said. i want to remember the times you were scared or hurt and told me, "milky other side -- feel better mommy", the times when you left the house in the most ridiculous outfits because you wouldn't have it any other way. i want to remember the foods you love and the ones you won't even try, the way you mispronounce words like slippery and instead say "zippity", the way you scream at our blow up snowman, "SNOWMAN! WAKE UP!" to get it to stand up even though you know that when you flip the switch it happens, the way you resist getting into your car seat nearly every single time, the way you ask me to "do something else" as we go through yoga pose after pose, the way you say, "more again" if you want me to do something again, the things i am not allowed to do because, "no, grandpop do that!" and i guess i could go on and on.
it breaks my heart to think of all the things i have already forgotten and the things i will forget. if only i could record every moment of your life so that i could watch it when you are all grown up and want to be with your friends more than you want to be with me, when you are embarrassed to hear that you were still nursing when you were "that old", or when the idea of snuggling up next to me in bed is just creepy to you.
i never thought i would be such a sap. i never thought i would cling to something so much that it hurts just to think about it slipping away.
you are only a little over two. but these months since you were born have gone so fast. and the fact that i am 38 years old and have been out of high school for nearly 20 years just proves how fast time goes. i fear growing old now like i never did before. i wonder if i will even be around to meet your children.
time scares me.
my intense love for you terrifies me and invigorates me at the same time.
i loved who i was before your dad and before you. i loved my life. even when i was a mess and my life was messy.
but i had no idea how much better you could make me. and it.
this is the first time in a long time that christmas has been exciting for me. you make everything better.
we skipped the memorial for your brother on monday night. we went the first year, but that was it. the next year you were here and crying all the time. last year you and i both still had separation anxiety. and this year i really planned to go. but at the last minute i bailed. your dad had practice and could have gotten home on time. but i didn't push it. i just felt like things are so happy right now, i didn't want to be there and be sad.
i think of your brother all the time. i wonder what he would be like. i look at you and i wonder how much like you he would have looked. i imagine him being excited for santa. and it makes me really sad to know everything that he has missed. just as i told him while he was dying in my arms...he got so screwed.
i cherish those ten minutes i had with him.
and even though i can't remember everything that you do or say, always know that i cherish every single minute that i have with you.
i love you, little boy, and i thank you.
i guess that happens more often than i realize.
it doesn't bother. me
when i told your dad about that he said that you are actually smarter than some adults he knows. and i said totally...and way more interesting.
you are the coolest and most amazing person in the world to me. everything you do, you do with wonder and excitement. you are proud of yourself and you are the most important person in the world to you.
you always amaze me.
you decided a few weeks ago to stop peeing in your diaper. you woke up dry, and i let you have a naked butt all day. you told me every time you had to pee. and since then, you sleep with a pull-up at night (just in case...you have only peed in one twice i think) and other than that, you are diaper-free.
i was totally prepared to have you in diapers at age four. i never planned on "potty training" you. i figured you would do it when you were ready.
and you did.
you still poop in a diaper when i can get one on fast enough. but i know you will do that on the potty when you are ready, too.
just like you will someday sleep through the night when you are ready. (it's awesome that people have stopped asking that question, since i guess they assume all two-year-olds sleep through.)
so here's the thing. so often i am writing a post about something big that's on my mind. i forget to write about the small things like this. there is so much of you that i have never mentioned here. i guess a part of me likes to keep a part of you to myself. but i guess a part of it is that i know everyone knows that their own kid is amazing, so i assume people don't want to hear it.
but part of why i wanted to write a blog was so that i would have a record of our life together.
there is so much i have already forgotten. and that really stinks.
i want to remember everything. like all of the funny things you say and do, all of the times that i literally laugh out loud at something you've said. i want to remember the times you were scared or hurt and told me, "milky other side -- feel better mommy", the times when you left the house in the most ridiculous outfits because you wouldn't have it any other way. i want to remember the foods you love and the ones you won't even try, the way you mispronounce words like slippery and instead say "zippity", the way you scream at our blow up snowman, "SNOWMAN! WAKE UP!" to get it to stand up even though you know that when you flip the switch it happens, the way you resist getting into your car seat nearly every single time, the way you ask me to "do something else" as we go through yoga pose after pose, the way you say, "more again" if you want me to do something again, the things i am not allowed to do because, "no, grandpop do that!" and i guess i could go on and on.
it breaks my heart to think of all the things i have already forgotten and the things i will forget. if only i could record every moment of your life so that i could watch it when you are all grown up and want to be with your friends more than you want to be with me, when you are embarrassed to hear that you were still nursing when you were "that old", or when the idea of snuggling up next to me in bed is just creepy to you.
i never thought i would be such a sap. i never thought i would cling to something so much that it hurts just to think about it slipping away.
you are only a little over two. but these months since you were born have gone so fast. and the fact that i am 38 years old and have been out of high school for nearly 20 years just proves how fast time goes. i fear growing old now like i never did before. i wonder if i will even be around to meet your children.
time scares me.
my intense love for you terrifies me and invigorates me at the same time.
i loved who i was before your dad and before you. i loved my life. even when i was a mess and my life was messy.
but i had no idea how much better you could make me. and it.
this is the first time in a long time that christmas has been exciting for me. you make everything better.
we skipped the memorial for your brother on monday night. we went the first year, but that was it. the next year you were here and crying all the time. last year you and i both still had separation anxiety. and this year i really planned to go. but at the last minute i bailed. your dad had practice and could have gotten home on time. but i didn't push it. i just felt like things are so happy right now, i didn't want to be there and be sad.
i think of your brother all the time. i wonder what he would be like. i look at you and i wonder how much like you he would have looked. i imagine him being excited for santa. and it makes me really sad to know everything that he has missed. just as i told him while he was dying in my arms...he got so screwed.
i cherish those ten minutes i had with him.
and even though i can't remember everything that you do or say, always know that i cherish every single minute that i have with you.
i love you, little boy, and i thank you.
13 December, 2011
sometimes there is no happy ending
i recently had a friend endure a pretty traumatic birthing experience.
and i didn't know what to say to her.
so it got me thinking about all of the things people said to me along this road that just were not helpful at all.
when you were born via cesarean instead of at home like your dad and i had hoped, people said, "well at least the baby is here and healthy." "c-section babies are prettier with their nice, round heads." "why does it matter so much?""don;t be an octomom!" "just drink a bottle of wine and relax." "my friend decided to adopt and then she got pregnant."
when we were dealing with infertility, it was, "well can't you just adopt?" and now that we want a sibling for you, it's, "well at least you have one."
and when cooper died, there was a flurry of comments that made my blood boil, such as, "well now you have an angel in heaven to look over you" or "you can always have another one" or "at least you didn't know him" or "it was meant to be". there were plenty more and if you want to know what you should not say to someone who has lost a baby, no matter at what stage, just google it.
i know i probably said lots of things that were less than helpful prior to my loss. and probably now, too. most times now i just try to acknowledge and offer a hug.
our dear friend colleen said to me after we lost cooper that people in our world tend to look for happy endings...then she said that sometimes, there just is no happy ending.
yes, having a healthy baby is important, but we need to learn to be okay with losses and to acknowledge them so that the people who have lost know that their feelings are okay. we need to validate, rather than try to make the bad feelings go away.
and i didn't know what to say to her.
so it got me thinking about all of the things people said to me along this road that just were not helpful at all.
when you were born via cesarean instead of at home like your dad and i had hoped, people said, "well at least the baby is here and healthy." "c-section babies are prettier with their nice, round heads." "why does it matter so much?""don;t be an octomom!" "just drink a bottle of wine and relax." "my friend decided to adopt and then she got pregnant."
when we were dealing with infertility, it was, "well can't you just adopt?" and now that we want a sibling for you, it's, "well at least you have one."
and when cooper died, there was a flurry of comments that made my blood boil, such as, "well now you have an angel in heaven to look over you" or "you can always have another one" or "at least you didn't know him" or "it was meant to be". there were plenty more and if you want to know what you should not say to someone who has lost a baby, no matter at what stage, just google it.
i know i probably said lots of things that were less than helpful prior to my loss. and probably now, too. most times now i just try to acknowledge and offer a hug.
our dear friend colleen said to me after we lost cooper that people in our world tend to look for happy endings...then she said that sometimes, there just is no happy ending.
yes, having a healthy baby is important, but we need to learn to be okay with losses and to acknowledge them so that the people who have lost know that their feelings are okay. we need to validate, rather than try to make the bad feelings go away.
14 November, 2011
gritting teeth
you hit your friends. and you bite them. well, not all of them, just a select few. you hit the dogs. and pull their ears and tails. you have hit me. and your dad. and uncle. and your cousins. and you grit your teeth when you do it. i know it's all normal, but i can't help but blame myself a little bit.
from when you were born those dogs have tested my patience every single day. i lost my love for them the first night i was home from the hospital with you. i know. i know. how awful.
i remember a dear friend who gave her cat away after her baby was born. i could not believe someone could do that. i saw lady and the tramp. it made no sense to me. i remember sitting home and missing events because one of my dogs had separation anxiety. i had always thought that my dogs were just like my babies.
but they are not. and now i totally understand that friend and her cat. and lady and the tramp makes perfect sense.
the dogs are hairy. and smelly. and usually bark at all the wrong times. the clicking of their nails on the wood floors drives me literally insane. they take my food. and yours. and they chew on your toys. and you get super upset when they do.
poor pathetic beasts. they don't do it on purpose. they are just dogs.
and i try. i try to accept them and have compassion. but as soon as i have set my mind on trying, one of them does something to make me...
yes. grit my teeth. and yell at them with such frustration. and (gasp)i have even given a few smacks on the rear to the really annoying one. i try not to let you see or to do it around you. but you know. you are sensitive to all of my feelings, even when you aren't looking. you are a toddler.
i lose patience with those dogs. i lose patience with your dad. i lose patience with strangers. i lose patience with myself. and i have even lost patience with you. when you were little and crying all the time, i would sometimes hold you and yell' "stop crying!"
i have rubbed off on you. you have learned it from me. and yes, i know that part of it is normal toddler behavior. and i mean, i don't bite you or hit you or anyone else, so that you figured out on your own. and i know all of that will pass.
what bothers me, though, is the gritting of the teeth and the pent up anger and frustration that you feel.
maybe i never let you cry enough.
i don't know.
all i know is that i need to work on this. i need to breathe and learn to be more like the way i used to be. the way i was when your dad met me. the way i was before things started going wrong. i need to go back to letting things roll.
and then maybe you can learn that, too. because that is one link in a long chain of teeth gritting that i would really like to break.
grandpop grits his teeth and is really angry at a lot of people a lot of the time. he spent a pretty big part of my childhood being angry with me and with uncle and with grandmom. he loved us, sure. but he had never learned patience from his mother.
his mother was one of the meanest people i have known. she was horrible to him. so horrible that i hate to even call her a mother. i went to her funeral only because i had to. i invited her to my wedding only because i had to. and when she declined the invitation i sent her check back.
the apples don't fall far from the trees.
but that stops here. i will not pass it on to you. i promise. we will be different.
from when you were born those dogs have tested my patience every single day. i lost my love for them the first night i was home from the hospital with you. i know. i know. how awful.
i remember a dear friend who gave her cat away after her baby was born. i could not believe someone could do that. i saw lady and the tramp. it made no sense to me. i remember sitting home and missing events because one of my dogs had separation anxiety. i had always thought that my dogs were just like my babies.
but they are not. and now i totally understand that friend and her cat. and lady and the tramp makes perfect sense.
the dogs are hairy. and smelly. and usually bark at all the wrong times. the clicking of their nails on the wood floors drives me literally insane. they take my food. and yours. and they chew on your toys. and you get super upset when they do.
poor pathetic beasts. they don't do it on purpose. they are just dogs.
and i try. i try to accept them and have compassion. but as soon as i have set my mind on trying, one of them does something to make me...
yes. grit my teeth. and yell at them with such frustration. and (gasp)i have even given a few smacks on the rear to the really annoying one. i try not to let you see or to do it around you. but you know. you are sensitive to all of my feelings, even when you aren't looking. you are a toddler.
i lose patience with those dogs. i lose patience with your dad. i lose patience with strangers. i lose patience with myself. and i have even lost patience with you. when you were little and crying all the time, i would sometimes hold you and yell' "stop crying!"
i have rubbed off on you. you have learned it from me. and yes, i know that part of it is normal toddler behavior. and i mean, i don't bite you or hit you or anyone else, so that you figured out on your own. and i know all of that will pass.
what bothers me, though, is the gritting of the teeth and the pent up anger and frustration that you feel.
maybe i never let you cry enough.
i don't know.
all i know is that i need to work on this. i need to breathe and learn to be more like the way i used to be. the way i was when your dad met me. the way i was before things started going wrong. i need to go back to letting things roll.
and then maybe you can learn that, too. because that is one link in a long chain of teeth gritting that i would really like to break.
grandpop grits his teeth and is really angry at a lot of people a lot of the time. he spent a pretty big part of my childhood being angry with me and with uncle and with grandmom. he loved us, sure. but he had never learned patience from his mother.
his mother was one of the meanest people i have known. she was horrible to him. so horrible that i hate to even call her a mother. i went to her funeral only because i had to. i invited her to my wedding only because i had to. and when she declined the invitation i sent her check back.
the apples don't fall far from the trees.
but that stops here. i will not pass it on to you. i promise. we will be different.
02 November, 2011
explaining myself
it always seems i have to explain myself. this letter to you started out nice and clean. i used the first letter of a "bad" word instead of the whole word. now it seems i have the worst potty-mouth in south jersey...and that is saying a lot. so let me explain myself. to me, words are just words. and they are only as powerful as you allow them to be. don't misunderstand me. i don't plan to let you run around saying nasty words as you grow up and i will do my best not to say those words around you. but when you are all grown up and i share this letter...or now i guess it's more like a story...with you, i would hope that you would have learned, too, that words are just words.
that being said, the other day after posting my last entry, i thought for a moment that grandmom may someday read this. and that then she would have such mixed feelings about me and my beliefs. my life. and then i shivered at the thought that maybe nana (daddy's mom) and pop-pop (daddy's daddy) would read it and have an altogether new opinion of me. and then i have potential clients who may not hire me because they think i am too over-the-top, or too obscene. and then there are the parents of students i have taught in the past. what will they think? and daddy's students or their parents may somehow come across this and what will that mean for him?
one thing i forgot to mention about your mother -- i am impulsive. i don't think things through. ever. and if someone asks me to think it through i have even more resistance.
so here i am. with this blog out there in the world. for anyone to read. and i am just out there. exposed. out there. i use bad words. i admitted to smoking pot. i admitted to drinking too much. i have cursed people i know. people i love and care about. and i expect everyone to just grin and go along with it. and to think it's okay.
so no, actually, i don't. i don't apologize for who i am. that is something that has grown on me over time. i used to apologize for me all of the time. and i would try to mold myself into a person that whoever i was with would accept. i am so over that now. i like the bad words. to me they sound really nice. they sound convincing. not offensive. i did smoke pot. and i enjoyed it. and honestly i believe that everyone should try it at least once or twice. it gives you a whole new perspective. and when you are older and ask me about it, i will tell you the truth. and i drank my twenties away. and it was fun. and i hope you aren't as dumb as i was in some of the decisions i made, but whatever i did made me me. and i like me. and as for grandmom, she loves me. and she will see past the bad stuff. she might blame herself for screwing me up a little. or she will blame me for missing her lessons. but either way, in the end, no matter how screwed up i was or how many mistakes i was making, she was always there in the end, loving me just the same.
daddy's parents -- that's a bit more complicated. i would hope that if it was just too much for them that they would just stop reading and close the page. but maybe not. maybe they can look past it all, too, and think it's kind of cool to get a glimpse into my brain.
maybe a potential client will turn away, but in the end we have to click, so i want all of my clients to be able to see and know the real me. they story of me. maybe it will resonate with them. and maybe not. but either way, it's brutal honesty and it's okay.
the parents of the students from the past...well i think the ones that know me can appreciate what i write about. they are all humans just like i am and i am sure that what i see when i talk to them is not exactly as it always seems. we all wear different hats and play different roles throughout our days. there are many layers to each of us.
i guess i may never get another teaching job, but i don't think i will ever want one anyway. but i do hope that what i say never reflects poorly on your dad. he is so good and so accepting. and so peaceful and generally level-headed. he thinks things through. he is sensitive. and every entry i make in this long letter to you affects him in a different way. it's therapy for me. i hope that in some way it is also for him.
i never write with the intention of hurting anyone. i never write in a passive-aggressive way of getting my point across to one particular person. i write what is in my head and in my heart. i rarely re-read what i write and i often click "publish post" without even skimming over what has just erupted from my brain.
so sometimes after i publish a post, i feel this little twinge of fear in my belly. i wonder who might get offended. and i sometimes have an urge to put a little disclaimer at the end. a blanket apology.
but then i settle on the belief that there is nothing to be sorry about. for any of us. we are all on our path and we are all learning our lessons. i know i am offensive and abrasive. and i tend to hurt feelings. but i am just being honest. and real about the way i feel. it's not personal.
it's just me being me. i write because it makes me feel good. and because i am trying to figure me out a little bit more. and because i hope that along the way someone else may figure out a little something about themselves, too. and because people have told me that they have felt a connection and felt a little less alone in their head in knowing that someone else feels a little bit like they do. i write because it helps me figure out more and more about this person i am becoming.
and hopefully everything i figure out about me will help you to someday be a more complete and healthy you.
that being said, the other day after posting my last entry, i thought for a moment that grandmom may someday read this. and that then she would have such mixed feelings about me and my beliefs. my life. and then i shivered at the thought that maybe nana (daddy's mom) and pop-pop (daddy's daddy) would read it and have an altogether new opinion of me. and then i have potential clients who may not hire me because they think i am too over-the-top, or too obscene. and then there are the parents of students i have taught in the past. what will they think? and daddy's students or their parents may somehow come across this and what will that mean for him?
one thing i forgot to mention about your mother -- i am impulsive. i don't think things through. ever. and if someone asks me to think it through i have even more resistance.
so here i am. with this blog out there in the world. for anyone to read. and i am just out there. exposed. out there. i use bad words. i admitted to smoking pot. i admitted to drinking too much. i have cursed people i know. people i love and care about. and i expect everyone to just grin and go along with it. and to think it's okay.
so no, actually, i don't. i don't apologize for who i am. that is something that has grown on me over time. i used to apologize for me all of the time. and i would try to mold myself into a person that whoever i was with would accept. i am so over that now. i like the bad words. to me they sound really nice. they sound convincing. not offensive. i did smoke pot. and i enjoyed it. and honestly i believe that everyone should try it at least once or twice. it gives you a whole new perspective. and when you are older and ask me about it, i will tell you the truth. and i drank my twenties away. and it was fun. and i hope you aren't as dumb as i was in some of the decisions i made, but whatever i did made me me. and i like me. and as for grandmom, she loves me. and she will see past the bad stuff. she might blame herself for screwing me up a little. or she will blame me for missing her lessons. but either way, in the end, no matter how screwed up i was or how many mistakes i was making, she was always there in the end, loving me just the same.
daddy's parents -- that's a bit more complicated. i would hope that if it was just too much for them that they would just stop reading and close the page. but maybe not. maybe they can look past it all, too, and think it's kind of cool to get a glimpse into my brain.
maybe a potential client will turn away, but in the end we have to click, so i want all of my clients to be able to see and know the real me. they story of me. maybe it will resonate with them. and maybe not. but either way, it's brutal honesty and it's okay.
the parents of the students from the past...well i think the ones that know me can appreciate what i write about. they are all humans just like i am and i am sure that what i see when i talk to them is not exactly as it always seems. we all wear different hats and play different roles throughout our days. there are many layers to each of us.
i guess i may never get another teaching job, but i don't think i will ever want one anyway. but i do hope that what i say never reflects poorly on your dad. he is so good and so accepting. and so peaceful and generally level-headed. he thinks things through. he is sensitive. and every entry i make in this long letter to you affects him in a different way. it's therapy for me. i hope that in some way it is also for him.
i never write with the intention of hurting anyone. i never write in a passive-aggressive way of getting my point across to one particular person. i write what is in my head and in my heart. i rarely re-read what i write and i often click "publish post" without even skimming over what has just erupted from my brain.
so sometimes after i publish a post, i feel this little twinge of fear in my belly. i wonder who might get offended. and i sometimes have an urge to put a little disclaimer at the end. a blanket apology.
but then i settle on the belief that there is nothing to be sorry about. for any of us. we are all on our path and we are all learning our lessons. i know i am offensive and abrasive. and i tend to hurt feelings. but i am just being honest. and real about the way i feel. it's not personal.
it's just me being me. i write because it makes me feel good. and because i am trying to figure me out a little bit more. and because i hope that along the way someone else may figure out a little something about themselves, too. and because people have told me that they have felt a connection and felt a little less alone in their head in knowing that someone else feels a little bit like they do. i write because it helps me figure out more and more about this person i am becoming.
and hopefully everything i figure out about me will help you to someday be a more complete and healthy you.
30 October, 2011
your mother's life in a nutshell
things were always easy for me and went pretty much however i wanted them to go.
i grew up in a house with two parents in a nice little neighborhood. we lived in the same house all of my life. it was grandmom, grandpop, me and then uncle chris. we always had a dog. and new cars. and a pool in the yard. things were easy. i pretty much got what i wanted. but i wasn't spoiled. we got our clothes at k-mart with scattered in jordache jeans...never guess or benetton anything like that. we took day trips to the beach. we went to disney a few times. i never felt like i was missing out on anything.
i hated high school. a lot. i was a shitty student. and a cheerleader. the captain. i only mention this because anyone who knows me now always gets a kick out of hearing that. most people don't believe it.
but as for school, i would have quit if it weren't for my guidance counselor who let me cut class and hang out with him most of the day almost every day. he was pretty awesome. and there was tera and pam and karis and "velezzie". my partners in crime. i loved those chicks and if it weren't for them i would have a lot less fun stories to tell about my high school years. they got me through it.
i was a total asshole in high school. so ignorant. and even mean. i would have hated that girl if i met her now. thank god for the people who changed me the most. jason was uncle chris' friend. and amit. he was jason's friend who was from israel and living here for a few years. jason made me realize (though he never said it) that i talked to much and was too much about me. and amit made me see how small i was in this huge world. he made me want to travel. to really travel, not just to go to disney world and the bahamas.
after i graduated there was no way in hell i was going to college. i hated school. so i went to this four month travel program in miami beach. i wanted to be a travel agent. i wanted to get out. to see it all.
so grandmom and grandpop paid for me to go down there and learn some stuff about how to enter things into a computer and to search for airfares and blah blah blah. i learned all of that stuff but more importantly i met kendra. she taught me how to be a good student. she taught me to love to learn.
after coming home from that school, i got a job as a travel agent. i hated it. i wasn't going anywhere with that job except to disney world and the bahamas.
so i quit.
and i started to work at the disney store (yes, the disney store).
and i bought a plane ticket to isreal. i informed your grandmother of this when she came home from work one day. i told her i was going and she said i wasn't and i said i already bought the ticket. i was 19. israel was in the news a lot at the time. buses were getting blown up. and i was going to visit my friend (who i was in love with) while he was on his leave from the israeli army. grandmom wanted to kill me. and i couldn't wait.
it was amazing two weeks. i came home with a feeling of smallness, but of greatness all at once.
i enrolled in county college. i took three and a half years to get out of there. i loved every minute of it. lots of times i showed up to class still hungover. and lots of times i was high while i was there. but i learned so much more than i ever thought i could care about.
i worked two jobs and saved all of my pennies. i was super lucky to have college paid for and to live at home rent free. so i saved and i traveled.
my girl caryn and i backpacked around europe together. we spent two and a half months romping around, relaxing outside of the louvre, wondering what it was like inside because we would rather spend our money on beer than on a ticket to get in.
we slept in atm machines. on the side of rail road tracks. we bought weed from cafe windows and saw bulls run through the streets of pamplona. we went canyoning in switzerland and rode milk trains along the coast of italy. it was eye-opening. and fun as shit.
so after europe, i spent another summer roaming around central america. (god i miss my backpack.) three of those weeks were spent on a beach in belize. drinking coconut rum and eating lobster tacos. i hope to get back there someday.
i pretty much alternated travel with work and school for those five and a half years. i was on a plane at least twice a year. and when i was home i was out partying and being a twenty-something. doing things i hope you never do but i am pretty sure you will. but hopefully you will be smarter than i was. and have more confidence. and feel like you belong everywhere you go.
i never felt that way. that's why the beer and the weed. i never ever in my life felt as if i fit in or belonged where i was. i hope that i can give that gift to you. i hope that you always feel as if you belong where ever it is you want to be.
i finally transferred to rowan university and decided to be a teacher. i knew i could do a better job teaching than any of the teachers i ever had. except for mrs. lyons. she was awesome. and i wanted to teach history because i figured that if i was going to see the world, i might as well learn about the places i was going to go.
i remember telling my favorite professor in the world that i would teach in cherry hill someday. he kind of laughed at me and said that it was a really tough district to get into. (see, easy.)
i met my first husband at rowan. we backpacked around cuba for our honeymoon.
i know it will probably be really weird for you to know that i was married before. but even that went well. we were just friends. and after about a year we realized that. we even drove to our divorce hearing together and laughed and joked. the people around us asked why we were getting divorced. we're still friends today.
so it is weird and i guess you could say that was the first big mistake of my life. but i don't know if it can be called a mistake. because everything in my life has brought me to you.
after i got divorced i did some of that traveling i said i would never do. i got an actual suitcase and stayed at resorts in the caribbean and never came into contact with locals unless they were serving my drinks or making my bed. blech. that shit i regret.
i was teaching at maple shade high school. i taught there for five years. i had some really awesome students...like bre, who we all love today and are so happy to have as a little part of our family. but that place wasn't for me. and i was feeling burnt out of teaching. so i resigned from my tenured position even though everyone said i was nuts.
i remember my last day. i went straight to the bus station and went to nyc for a kids yoga teacher training with the amazing jodi komitor. see, while i was married and feeling lost, i found yoga. and i became certified to teach yoga (with my teacher, flossie, another one of those people who helped me see the light) but i wasn't really into teaching adults yoga. i wanted to teach kids yoga. so i did. i got a bunch of certifications and eventually opened a yoga studio just for kids. it was the only one in south jersey. there still hasn't been another one. we made some mistakes and financially we couldn't cut it, but for a while dawn and tiff of yoga clubhouse were the go-to people for kids yoga in this area. it was a really exciting time. full of lots of learning and life lessons.
overlapping with that i ended up teaching at carusi middle school. back in cherry hill. where i grew up. where i had hate and swore i would never live. that's where we live. and that's where i was teaching (even though dr. m made it seem so hard). and that's where i met your dad.
we met in august of 2006. he moved in with me in november. we were engaged in january of 2007. pregnant with your brother cooper in september and married in november. things went so fast.
here is where it stopped being easy.
i got pneumonia on our honeymoon. at a resort. in the carribbean.
when i came home i ended up in the hospital. cooper and i both survived it. but that was the first of many absolutely shitty events in my life. up until then, my life had been pretty damn easy. i went where i pleased. things had pretty much always gone my way.
until then.
in february 2008 your brother was born too soon. i was devastated. babies were not supposed to die. not my baby. bad things never happened to me. i was so unprepared. i cried for weeks. i looked like i had the shit beaten out of me my eyes were so black.
once we had gotten back on our feet we wanted to try for another baby.
we tried for months. infertility. more shit.
we ended up having to go through ivf to have you. we wanted you so badly we would have done anything.
we were so lucky that it worked on our first try. maybe things were turning around for us. my pregnancy was awesome.
but then you were breech. home birth turned c-section. more shit.
and then you were you. as much as i love you, my perfect little boy, you were not easy. you rocked my world more than i had ever imagined you could. you demanded constant rocking and holding and nursing. you never slept unless you were on my boob. you barely accepted help form your dad. and you still don't most of the time. it's just me. me. me. me. you demanded that i learn how to take care of you in the way that you needed. and so i did. i was consumed by it. and i still am. everything else takes a back seat. me. your dad. the dogs. the house. everything.
and now that we feel ready, we want another baby. a failed ivf cycle. more. shit.
i guess sometimes i sound like a real whiner. or complainer. or a martyr. or just a miserable bitch. but what the fuck? i just wish that some shit would go right for your dad and me. for us it's been so hard. so fucking hard.
and it used to be so fucking easy.
i grew up in a house with two parents in a nice little neighborhood. we lived in the same house all of my life. it was grandmom, grandpop, me and then uncle chris. we always had a dog. and new cars. and a pool in the yard. things were easy. i pretty much got what i wanted. but i wasn't spoiled. we got our clothes at k-mart with scattered in jordache jeans...never guess or benetton anything like that. we took day trips to the beach. we went to disney a few times. i never felt like i was missing out on anything.
i hated high school. a lot. i was a shitty student. and a cheerleader. the captain. i only mention this because anyone who knows me now always gets a kick out of hearing that. most people don't believe it.
but as for school, i would have quit if it weren't for my guidance counselor who let me cut class and hang out with him most of the day almost every day. he was pretty awesome. and there was tera and pam and karis and "velezzie". my partners in crime. i loved those chicks and if it weren't for them i would have a lot less fun stories to tell about my high school years. they got me through it.
i was a total asshole in high school. so ignorant. and even mean. i would have hated that girl if i met her now. thank god for the people who changed me the most. jason was uncle chris' friend. and amit. he was jason's friend who was from israel and living here for a few years. jason made me realize (though he never said it) that i talked to much and was too much about me. and amit made me see how small i was in this huge world. he made me want to travel. to really travel, not just to go to disney world and the bahamas.
after i graduated there was no way in hell i was going to college. i hated school. so i went to this four month travel program in miami beach. i wanted to be a travel agent. i wanted to get out. to see it all.
so grandmom and grandpop paid for me to go down there and learn some stuff about how to enter things into a computer and to search for airfares and blah blah blah. i learned all of that stuff but more importantly i met kendra. she taught me how to be a good student. she taught me to love to learn.
after coming home from that school, i got a job as a travel agent. i hated it. i wasn't going anywhere with that job except to disney world and the bahamas.
so i quit.
and i started to work at the disney store (yes, the disney store).
and i bought a plane ticket to isreal. i informed your grandmother of this when she came home from work one day. i told her i was going and she said i wasn't and i said i already bought the ticket. i was 19. israel was in the news a lot at the time. buses were getting blown up. and i was going to visit my friend (who i was in love with) while he was on his leave from the israeli army. grandmom wanted to kill me. and i couldn't wait.
it was amazing two weeks. i came home with a feeling of smallness, but of greatness all at once.
i enrolled in county college. i took three and a half years to get out of there. i loved every minute of it. lots of times i showed up to class still hungover. and lots of times i was high while i was there. but i learned so much more than i ever thought i could care about.
i worked two jobs and saved all of my pennies. i was super lucky to have college paid for and to live at home rent free. so i saved and i traveled.
my girl caryn and i backpacked around europe together. we spent two and a half months romping around, relaxing outside of the louvre, wondering what it was like inside because we would rather spend our money on beer than on a ticket to get in.
we slept in atm machines. on the side of rail road tracks. we bought weed from cafe windows and saw bulls run through the streets of pamplona. we went canyoning in switzerland and rode milk trains along the coast of italy. it was eye-opening. and fun as shit.
so after europe, i spent another summer roaming around central america. (god i miss my backpack.) three of those weeks were spent on a beach in belize. drinking coconut rum and eating lobster tacos. i hope to get back there someday.
i pretty much alternated travel with work and school for those five and a half years. i was on a plane at least twice a year. and when i was home i was out partying and being a twenty-something. doing things i hope you never do but i am pretty sure you will. but hopefully you will be smarter than i was. and have more confidence. and feel like you belong everywhere you go.
i never felt that way. that's why the beer and the weed. i never ever in my life felt as if i fit in or belonged where i was. i hope that i can give that gift to you. i hope that you always feel as if you belong where ever it is you want to be.
i finally transferred to rowan university and decided to be a teacher. i knew i could do a better job teaching than any of the teachers i ever had. except for mrs. lyons. she was awesome. and i wanted to teach history because i figured that if i was going to see the world, i might as well learn about the places i was going to go.
i remember telling my favorite professor in the world that i would teach in cherry hill someday. he kind of laughed at me and said that it was a really tough district to get into. (see, easy.)
i met my first husband at rowan. we backpacked around cuba for our honeymoon.
i know it will probably be really weird for you to know that i was married before. but even that went well. we were just friends. and after about a year we realized that. we even drove to our divorce hearing together and laughed and joked. the people around us asked why we were getting divorced. we're still friends today.
so it is weird and i guess you could say that was the first big mistake of my life. but i don't know if it can be called a mistake. because everything in my life has brought me to you.
after i got divorced i did some of that traveling i said i would never do. i got an actual suitcase and stayed at resorts in the caribbean and never came into contact with locals unless they were serving my drinks or making my bed. blech. that shit i regret.
i was teaching at maple shade high school. i taught there for five years. i had some really awesome students...like bre, who we all love today and are so happy to have as a little part of our family. but that place wasn't for me. and i was feeling burnt out of teaching. so i resigned from my tenured position even though everyone said i was nuts.
i remember my last day. i went straight to the bus station and went to nyc for a kids yoga teacher training with the amazing jodi komitor. see, while i was married and feeling lost, i found yoga. and i became certified to teach yoga (with my teacher, flossie, another one of those people who helped me see the light) but i wasn't really into teaching adults yoga. i wanted to teach kids yoga. so i did. i got a bunch of certifications and eventually opened a yoga studio just for kids. it was the only one in south jersey. there still hasn't been another one. we made some mistakes and financially we couldn't cut it, but for a while dawn and tiff of yoga clubhouse were the go-to people for kids yoga in this area. it was a really exciting time. full of lots of learning and life lessons.
overlapping with that i ended up teaching at carusi middle school. back in cherry hill. where i grew up. where i had hate and swore i would never live. that's where we live. and that's where i was teaching (even though dr. m made it seem so hard). and that's where i met your dad.
we met in august of 2006. he moved in with me in november. we were engaged in january of 2007. pregnant with your brother cooper in september and married in november. things went so fast.
here is where it stopped being easy.
i got pneumonia on our honeymoon. at a resort. in the carribbean.
when i came home i ended up in the hospital. cooper and i both survived it. but that was the first of many absolutely shitty events in my life. up until then, my life had been pretty damn easy. i went where i pleased. things had pretty much always gone my way.
until then.
in february 2008 your brother was born too soon. i was devastated. babies were not supposed to die. not my baby. bad things never happened to me. i was so unprepared. i cried for weeks. i looked like i had the shit beaten out of me my eyes were so black.
once we had gotten back on our feet we wanted to try for another baby.
we tried for months. infertility. more shit.
we ended up having to go through ivf to have you. we wanted you so badly we would have done anything.
we were so lucky that it worked on our first try. maybe things were turning around for us. my pregnancy was awesome.
but then you were breech. home birth turned c-section. more shit.
and then you were you. as much as i love you, my perfect little boy, you were not easy. you rocked my world more than i had ever imagined you could. you demanded constant rocking and holding and nursing. you never slept unless you were on my boob. you barely accepted help form your dad. and you still don't most of the time. it's just me. me. me. me. you demanded that i learn how to take care of you in the way that you needed. and so i did. i was consumed by it. and i still am. everything else takes a back seat. me. your dad. the dogs. the house. everything.
and now that we feel ready, we want another baby. a failed ivf cycle. more. shit.
i guess sometimes i sound like a real whiner. or complainer. or a martyr. or just a miserable bitch. but what the fuck? i just wish that some shit would go right for your dad and me. for us it's been so hard. so fucking hard.
and it used to be so fucking easy.
21 October, 2011
positive
ok, so now that i have vented some anger, let me see if i can really let all of the positive things sink in.
mason is still so little. now we get more alone time. and maybe he will wean himself while i am pregnant next time since he will be older. deep down i guess i really did want him to be older before i had another baby.
i just have to get rid of the jealousy when i see friends having their seconds and thirds. or when i hear about really shitty people i know having more and more babies. i have to let it go and just focus on me and what's right for us.
don't get me wrong, i do want another baby. i really want three more babies, and maybe that will still happen. whatever happens is exactly what is meant to happen. i just have to remember that.
we won't try again for another ivf treatment until mason is done nursing because of all of the medications i will have to take. maybe we can get pregnant on our own in the meantime and i won't ever have to go back to the fertility center again.
i will be able to actually finish my childbirth education certificate. i was afraid that if i were pregnant i would never get it done. so i have only three more papers to write and then i can start offering my eight-week courses. i am really excited for that.
i can take on more doula clients and maybe finish that certification, too.
i can drink beer.
josh will be higher up on the pay scale when we do have another baby and maybe he will be able to take a few weeks off with us.
so there are good things. it doesn't take away from the fact that all of the negatives are there. and after some time passes, i know i will believe that these good things are really good. i am just really shocked. i never thought this was where this would end up, i really believed this would work.
mason is still so little. now we get more alone time. and maybe he will wean himself while i am pregnant next time since he will be older. deep down i guess i really did want him to be older before i had another baby.
i just have to get rid of the jealousy when i see friends having their seconds and thirds. or when i hear about really shitty people i know having more and more babies. i have to let it go and just focus on me and what's right for us.
don't get me wrong, i do want another baby. i really want three more babies, and maybe that will still happen. whatever happens is exactly what is meant to happen. i just have to remember that.
we won't try again for another ivf treatment until mason is done nursing because of all of the medications i will have to take. maybe we can get pregnant on our own in the meantime and i won't ever have to go back to the fertility center again.
i will be able to actually finish my childbirth education certificate. i was afraid that if i were pregnant i would never get it done. so i have only three more papers to write and then i can start offering my eight-week courses. i am really excited for that.
i can take on more doula clients and maybe finish that certification, too.
i can drink beer.
josh will be higher up on the pay scale when we do have another baby and maybe he will be able to take a few weeks off with us.
so there are good things. it doesn't take away from the fact that all of the negatives are there. and after some time passes, i know i will believe that these good things are really good. i am just really shocked. i never thought this was where this would end up, i really believed this would work.
negative
i hate shitty parents
i hate that i am sickeningly jealous of people who get pregnant easily
i hate that there are people who get pregnant accidentally
i hate people who don't take care of themselves while they are pregnant
i hate that so many people don't appreciate the miracle that a baby is
i hate people who take their birthing experiences for granted
i hate that i paid over $1600 in embryo storage over the past three years
i hate that i spent hundreds of dollars on acupuncture treatments
i hate that i paid hundreds of dollars for medicines that i pumped into my body
i hate that my son may have taken in some of those medicines
i hate that i had to take two courses of antibiotics
i hate that i had josh bring all of my maternity clothes down from the attic
i hate the embryologist at my doctor's office because she is a miserable bitch
i hate the voice of the woman on my meditation cds
i hate that my doctors just got richer
i hate that i waited all day to get bad news
i hate that i was worried about having twins and i won't even have one
i hate that i am mourning the loss of three embryos
i hate that i am now afraid i will never have another baby
i hate that i lost a baby at 22 weeks
i hate that i had to deal with infertility after losing my baby at 22 weeks
i hate that i had to have a c-section
i hate that i did not get my home birth
i hate that i can't try again to have another baby until mason is done nursing
i hate that this shit can't just be fucking easy for us
i hate that i am sickeningly jealous of people who get pregnant easily
i hate that there are people who get pregnant accidentally
i hate people who don't take care of themselves while they are pregnant
i hate that so many people don't appreciate the miracle that a baby is
i hate people who take their birthing experiences for granted
i hate that i paid over $1600 in embryo storage over the past three years
i hate that i spent hundreds of dollars on acupuncture treatments
i hate that i paid hundreds of dollars for medicines that i pumped into my body
i hate that my son may have taken in some of those medicines
i hate that i had to take two courses of antibiotics
i hate that i had josh bring all of my maternity clothes down from the attic
i hate the embryologist at my doctor's office because she is a miserable bitch
i hate the voice of the woman on my meditation cds
i hate that my doctors just got richer
i hate that i waited all day to get bad news
i hate that i was worried about having twins and i won't even have one
i hate that i am mourning the loss of three embryos
i hate that i am now afraid i will never have another baby
i hate that i lost a baby at 22 weeks
i hate that i had to deal with infertility after losing my baby at 22 weeks
i hate that i had to have a c-section
i hate that i did not get my home birth
i hate that i can't try again to have another baby until mason is done nursing
i hate that this shit can't just be fucking easy for us
19 October, 2011
quick update
i am still feeling really positive and surprising calm about this whole thing. i am having a hard time not POAS (peeing on a stick for all of you who are not fertilly challenged and never have to learn these acronyms). but i figure if it is a false negative that will throw me into sadness and worry and it could possibly be unnecessary. but it's really killing me waiting. it's only a ten day wait as opposed the the two day, since the embies were already six days old when they were transferred back to me.
but ten days is a long time when you just can't seem to give your mind a rest.
i have been falling asleep every night while nursing you to sleep. your dad thinks i must be pregnant because i never fall asleep like that. but i also attended a birth the night of the transfer (no, i didn't follow the two days of rest after transfer rule) and was there for 24 hours. so i missed an entire night of sleep. i think i am just catching up on that. but any positive signs pointing towards a positive test are invited.
the best positive sign is that my acupuncturist says i have a pregnant pulse. she also says you are going to have a sister. the pulse thing makes sense to me, and from what i have found online on the infertility boards, no one's acupuncturist has been wrong on pregnancy prediction. the gender is another story.
but it doesn't matter to me if you have a sister or a brother.
with you i was desperate for a boy. i guess it was partly because i was used to boys because of your cousins, and because of your uncle, and because i always had more guy friends than girl friends when i was younger. but i think it was mostly because i was afraid that cooper would be my only boy. and if that had happened i would have probably been sad about that for my entire life.
but this time, boy or girl, i really don't care.
two girls, though, that would be a lot for me to swallow...
but ten days is a long time when you just can't seem to give your mind a rest.
i have been falling asleep every night while nursing you to sleep. your dad thinks i must be pregnant because i never fall asleep like that. but i also attended a birth the night of the transfer (no, i didn't follow the two days of rest after transfer rule) and was there for 24 hours. so i missed an entire night of sleep. i think i am just catching up on that. but any positive signs pointing towards a positive test are invited.
the best positive sign is that my acupuncturist says i have a pregnant pulse. she also says you are going to have a sister. the pulse thing makes sense to me, and from what i have found online on the infertility boards, no one's acupuncturist has been wrong on pregnancy prediction. the gender is another story.
but it doesn't matter to me if you have a sister or a brother.
with you i was desperate for a boy. i guess it was partly because i was used to boys because of your cousins, and because of your uncle, and because i always had more guy friends than girl friends when i was younger. but i think it was mostly because i was afraid that cooper would be my only boy. and if that had happened i would have probably been sad about that for my entire life.
but this time, boy or girl, i really don't care.
two girls, though, that would be a lot for me to swallow...
the transfer
this morning we woke up like everything was normal. we had our breakfast. you whined a lot for milkies with alternating bouts of play. daddy was home with us because he took off from work, but to you that was probably nothing different. grandmom and grandpop came over and daddy and i left together. this is something we have only done i think four times now since you were born. once was for my birthday dinner when you were about seven weeks old (we were gone about 45 minutes). then we went to our friend's surprise birthday party (that was awesome. it was my first time being back on daddy's motorcycle since before you were conceived.) last week we went out to shop for your birthday gifts. and now today, so that your sibling(s) could be transferred back to me. to us.
i had an acupuncture treatment before and after. that is supposed to increase the success rates of ivf transfers by something like 75% or so. i forget. it's been almost three years since i checked into it. so we got there about 11 o'clock this morning. i was freezing in the room and i had to pee. i need to drink 16 ounces of water just beforehand and then hold it until the procedure was done. it wasn't the most relaxing acupuncture treatment i have had.
so the doc came in after the treatment and i was terrified i was going to pee on him. and i asked the nurse if that had ever happened. she said yes, which didn't make me feel better. actually, a no wouldn't have been what i wanted to hear, either. (no, i didn't pee. well, not on him, anyway. i peed in a bed pan right after the procedure because they want you laying down for twenty minutes and i was having another acupuncture treatment so there was no way in hell i could have held all of that for another half hour.)
but the news was that the first embryo did not survive the thaw. and i know it's just a bunch of cells, but it made me really sad to hear that. then after the sad feeling sunk in, i realized that meant we were putting two embryos back in. the other two had survived, and there was no way i was letting one die off and there was no way i was re-freezing one.
so we watched in the ultrasound screen as a tiny bubble entered my uterus. it was just like watching when you were transferred back to my body. it's amazing to know what that tiny bubble can become.
so here we are. i have two embryos in my uterus. floating around in there looking to attach to the uterine wall. i am meditating and visualizing and hoping. and i am asking all of my friends to do the same. we find out next friday whether you will have a sibling. and then sometime next month we find out whether you will have one or two. it's going to be a long wait. both times. but i am feeling positive and hopeful. and i know that in the end it all happens the way it's supposed to.
i had an acupuncture treatment before and after. that is supposed to increase the success rates of ivf transfers by something like 75% or so. i forget. it's been almost three years since i checked into it. so we got there about 11 o'clock this morning. i was freezing in the room and i had to pee. i need to drink 16 ounces of water just beforehand and then hold it until the procedure was done. it wasn't the most relaxing acupuncture treatment i have had.
so the doc came in after the treatment and i was terrified i was going to pee on him. and i asked the nurse if that had ever happened. she said yes, which didn't make me feel better. actually, a no wouldn't have been what i wanted to hear, either. (no, i didn't pee. well, not on him, anyway. i peed in a bed pan right after the procedure because they want you laying down for twenty minutes and i was having another acupuncture treatment so there was no way in hell i could have held all of that for another half hour.)
but the news was that the first embryo did not survive the thaw. and i know it's just a bunch of cells, but it made me really sad to hear that. then after the sad feeling sunk in, i realized that meant we were putting two embryos back in. the other two had survived, and there was no way i was letting one die off and there was no way i was re-freezing one.
so we watched in the ultrasound screen as a tiny bubble entered my uterus. it was just like watching when you were transferred back to my body. it's amazing to know what that tiny bubble can become.
so here we are. i have two embryos in my uterus. floating around in there looking to attach to the uterine wall. i am meditating and visualizing and hoping. and i am asking all of my friends to do the same. we find out next friday whether you will have a sibling. and then sometime next month we find out whether you will have one or two. it's going to be a long wait. both times. but i am feeling positive and hopeful. and i know that in the end it all happens the way it's supposed to.
28 September, 2011
F
well, after all these weeks of shooting myself up and taking pills, i got a call today from the nurse at the fertility center. my estrogen is lower than they would like so now we have to push the embryo transfer back a week. i am super bummed right now and i don't know if i want to punch someone in the face or if i want to cry. so many things were aligned to go along with this october 4 date, and now i have to make sure i can realign everything. i don't even feel like writing right now. i don't feel like doing anything. maybe i will just go eat that bag of ghirardelli chocolate chips in the cabinet. so keep sending those positive vibes, but especially send them on the 11th for me instead of the 4th. blah.
23 September, 2011
the acronym entry
for those of you who get pregnant by "just looking at him", FET stands for frozen embryo transfer. you might also not know that TTC means trying to conceive...you likely don't know that because you never had to spend much time on any message boards about infertility.
so here it is. a recap for those of you who have only read my post-mason blog entries.
josh and i TTC for about seven months after we started to TTC again after losing cooper. with cooper we TTC for three months. it was easy. average. no worries.
but the next time around things had changed. and after seven long months of timing it perfectly and checking cervical fluid and the softness of my cervix (yes, you can and should check out your cervix every now and then)and using ovulation predictor sticks and charting my temperature and all the other ridiculous things one has to do when TTC, i was feeling like something just was not right.
turns out it wasn't right. and after a couple of months of testing and after trying two months of IUI (basically what you all know of as artificial insemination -- or trying to become pregnant with a turkey baster) we decided to take our shot with IVF (in vitro fertilization).
i did everything to facilitate a successful transfer. visualization. meditation. yoga. fertility massage. acupuncture. eating for fertility. taking herbs. drinking nasty chinese herbal teas. it's been so long i don't even remember what else. but whatever could be done, i did.
and it worked. mason is an ART (artificial reproductive therapy) baby. he was the only embryo of five that we decided to transfer that day back in january of 2009. the doc said it was of such high quality that if we put two in, i would likely have twins. at the time that scared the shit out of me because i was terrified that my water would break again. after all, we were warned by the doctors that i had a 30% chance of being a pPROM queen in any subsequent pregnancies. (that's preterm premature rupture of the membranes and that is a cute little term we PROM queens use on the message boards).
so anyway, we transferred that one tiny embryo on its fifth day of existence (this is called a blastocyst and itss the most ideal situation for a successful transfer) and he became our mason.
so here we are. ready for more. this time it's easy. less meds. less doctor's appointments. i am still doing all of the things i did in order to prepare, which is harder this time around because i have a two year old to play with all day long, but i am fitting it all in. and i am not stressed about it. or worried. i am confident that it will work again.
i was told by the RE (reproductive endocrinologist) to wean mason before i could start the FET cycle. but i did some research and i talked to people and it turns out that none of the meds will get to him and that since all they need is timing of my cycle, which they manipulate with drugs, there is no reason to wean. so we are still nursing through this and no one has any idea except for us and now all of you. i couldn't see weaning him. i didn't want him to have to suffer because of my need for another baby. the worst thing that could happen was that one of the meds could have caused my milk to dry up, but that hasn't happened. i was okay with that risk because pregnancy could to that, too.
we had three embryos survive until the day after mason's transfer. they are all frozen in liquid nitrogen waiting to be placed gently into my womb someday. i have five babies right now. one is my precious tiny cooper. one is my vibrant and growing mason. and those three little frozen pops. that's how i see it.
it's amazing to watch as this tiny little embryo travels in a bubble into your womb. and then to have it grow in your belly and then to hold it on the outside. and then to watch it grow up. it's just amazing.
of course it would have been nice to have this all done naturally, but i am really fascinated by the way i was able to watch mason grow from the very beginning. and i am so thankful that this technology exists. and that my insurance pays for it. because otherwise, i would likely still be a mom of just one little angel baby. i do not regret not having conceived mason naturally. nor do i regret trying to give these other little babies a chance at life.
so people keep asking me if we tried again naturally this time. or wishing for me that i didn't have to go through all of this. but honestly, we didn't try that hard. i want to give these babies a shot. and if someday, we have no more embryos, then we will try again the natural way. but for now. i have to try to give these little ones life in the same way that i was able to give mason life. they are his siblings.
and according to a 40 week pregnancy calendar, today i am about week pregnant. how's that for optimism?
we are scheduled for FET (frozen embryo transfer) on october 4. that or those embryo(s) are six days old already. they have the same conception date as mason, which i have always thought was so interesting. so since they are six days old, i count back six days from october 4, which for me is transfer day and for you fertile myrtles is the day of implantation, and that gives me the conception date and two weeks before that is week one, the start of the menstrual cycle for those of you who do this naturally. if this is confusing, count yourself lucky. if not, my heart goes out to you sister.
so here i am, a week pregnant. the question is, am i pregnant with one or two babies? the embies are frozen in two vials. one embryo is all alone in one vial and the other two are together. we are thawing the sole embryo first. but there is a 2/3% survival rate for thawed embryos, which means likely two of our three babies will survive the thaw in the end. (i am not convinced that this will be true for us. neither is josh. we both think they will all survive. just gut feelings for both of us.)so anyway. if this one guy doesn't survive, then we are left to decide -- do we transfer one or two. if we transfer one, then we have to refreeze the other and then risk going through all the meds and prep work next time and showing up for another FET and having them tell us that we have no embryo to transfer. but if we put two in, i run the risk of having twins, which would be challenging but wonderful. but the problem is that i am planning a home birth. and in new jersey, you have to search far and wide to find a midwife who will agree to attend a twin home birth -- let alone a twin VBAC home birth (vaginal birth after cesarean).
so i have two midwives lined up as my just in case plan. i cannot and will not ever mention their names online because they will be taking a huge risk in attending my possible vbac twin home birth. they have agreed to attend my twin hbac (home birth after cesarean). and i am super psyched about that. and not afraid.
so there it is. in a nutshell. keep us in your thoughts and send out the positive vibes. and we will especially need those positive vibes on october 4. i contemplated not blogging about this and about keeping the date to myself. and about keeping the transfer quiet except for my closest friends. but this is me. this is how i live my life -- out loud. the more people who know about it just means more positive energy. and in the event that it is unsuccessful or if something sad were to happen along the way, i will have more people to turn to for support. that's how i survived losing my cooper. i asked for help. i accepted help. and i let people know how badly it hurt. so this is how it will be again. when i become pregnant, you will all know. and you will all know how happy i am. and if i don't you will all know. and you will all know how sad i am. that's just the way it is. that's just the way i am.
so if you enjoy reading my blog, you are along for the ride. welcome. and thank you.
so here it is. a recap for those of you who have only read my post-mason blog entries.
josh and i TTC for about seven months after we started to TTC again after losing cooper. with cooper we TTC for three months. it was easy. average. no worries.
but the next time around things had changed. and after seven long months of timing it perfectly and checking cervical fluid and the softness of my cervix (yes, you can and should check out your cervix every now and then)and using ovulation predictor sticks and charting my temperature and all the other ridiculous things one has to do when TTC, i was feeling like something just was not right.
turns out it wasn't right. and after a couple of months of testing and after trying two months of IUI (basically what you all know of as artificial insemination -- or trying to become pregnant with a turkey baster) we decided to take our shot with IVF (in vitro fertilization).
i did everything to facilitate a successful transfer. visualization. meditation. yoga. fertility massage. acupuncture. eating for fertility. taking herbs. drinking nasty chinese herbal teas. it's been so long i don't even remember what else. but whatever could be done, i did.
and it worked. mason is an ART (artificial reproductive therapy) baby. he was the only embryo of five that we decided to transfer that day back in january of 2009. the doc said it was of such high quality that if we put two in, i would likely have twins. at the time that scared the shit out of me because i was terrified that my water would break again. after all, we were warned by the doctors that i had a 30% chance of being a pPROM queen in any subsequent pregnancies. (that's preterm premature rupture of the membranes and that is a cute little term we PROM queens use on the message boards).
so anyway, we transferred that one tiny embryo on its fifth day of existence (this is called a blastocyst and itss the most ideal situation for a successful transfer) and he became our mason.
so here we are. ready for more. this time it's easy. less meds. less doctor's appointments. i am still doing all of the things i did in order to prepare, which is harder this time around because i have a two year old to play with all day long, but i am fitting it all in. and i am not stressed about it. or worried. i am confident that it will work again.
i was told by the RE (reproductive endocrinologist) to wean mason before i could start the FET cycle. but i did some research and i talked to people and it turns out that none of the meds will get to him and that since all they need is timing of my cycle, which they manipulate with drugs, there is no reason to wean. so we are still nursing through this and no one has any idea except for us and now all of you. i couldn't see weaning him. i didn't want him to have to suffer because of my need for another baby. the worst thing that could happen was that one of the meds could have caused my milk to dry up, but that hasn't happened. i was okay with that risk because pregnancy could to that, too.
we had three embryos survive until the day after mason's transfer. they are all frozen in liquid nitrogen waiting to be placed gently into my womb someday. i have five babies right now. one is my precious tiny cooper. one is my vibrant and growing mason. and those three little frozen pops. that's how i see it.
it's amazing to watch as this tiny little embryo travels in a bubble into your womb. and then to have it grow in your belly and then to hold it on the outside. and then to watch it grow up. it's just amazing.
of course it would have been nice to have this all done naturally, but i am really fascinated by the way i was able to watch mason grow from the very beginning. and i am so thankful that this technology exists. and that my insurance pays for it. because otherwise, i would likely still be a mom of just one little angel baby. i do not regret not having conceived mason naturally. nor do i regret trying to give these other little babies a chance at life.
so people keep asking me if we tried again naturally this time. or wishing for me that i didn't have to go through all of this. but honestly, we didn't try that hard. i want to give these babies a shot. and if someday, we have no more embryos, then we will try again the natural way. but for now. i have to try to give these little ones life in the same way that i was able to give mason life. they are his siblings.
and according to a 40 week pregnancy calendar, today i am about week pregnant. how's that for optimism?
we are scheduled for FET (frozen embryo transfer) on october 4. that or those embryo(s) are six days old already. they have the same conception date as mason, which i have always thought was so interesting. so since they are six days old, i count back six days from october 4, which for me is transfer day and for you fertile myrtles is the day of implantation, and that gives me the conception date and two weeks before that is week one, the start of the menstrual cycle for those of you who do this naturally. if this is confusing, count yourself lucky. if not, my heart goes out to you sister.
so here i am, a week pregnant. the question is, am i pregnant with one or two babies? the embies are frozen in two vials. one embryo is all alone in one vial and the other two are together. we are thawing the sole embryo first. but there is a 2/3% survival rate for thawed embryos, which means likely two of our three babies will survive the thaw in the end. (i am not convinced that this will be true for us. neither is josh. we both think they will all survive. just gut feelings for both of us.)so anyway. if this one guy doesn't survive, then we are left to decide -- do we transfer one or two. if we transfer one, then we have to refreeze the other and then risk going through all the meds and prep work next time and showing up for another FET and having them tell us that we have no embryo to transfer. but if we put two in, i run the risk of having twins, which would be challenging but wonderful. but the problem is that i am planning a home birth. and in new jersey, you have to search far and wide to find a midwife who will agree to attend a twin home birth -- let alone a twin VBAC home birth (vaginal birth after cesarean).
so i have two midwives lined up as my just in case plan. i cannot and will not ever mention their names online because they will be taking a huge risk in attending my possible vbac twin home birth. they have agreed to attend my twin hbac (home birth after cesarean). and i am super psyched about that. and not afraid.
so there it is. in a nutshell. keep us in your thoughts and send out the positive vibes. and we will especially need those positive vibes on october 4. i contemplated not blogging about this and about keeping the date to myself. and about keeping the transfer quiet except for my closest friends. but this is me. this is how i live my life -- out loud. the more people who know about it just means more positive energy. and in the event that it is unsuccessful or if something sad were to happen along the way, i will have more people to turn to for support. that's how i survived losing my cooper. i asked for help. i accepted help. and i let people know how badly it hurt. so this is how it will be again. when i become pregnant, you will all know. and you will all know how happy i am. and if i don't you will all know. and you will all know how sad i am. that's just the way it is. that's just the way i am.
so if you enjoy reading my blog, you are along for the ride. welcome. and thank you.
18 September, 2011
sleeping baby boy
this is the story of one of the two things i feel guilty about with you.
when you were eight months old i am ashamed to say that i let you cry in your crib.
i remember deciding to try it. you were asleep on my lap, where you had napped your entire life. i was in a bad frame of mind and feeling frustrated, i couldn't move if you were sleeping. or talk. or anything. i had to hold my pee. i couldn't eat. and it had been like that for eight months. i was sick of it.
so this one day you were asleep and i attempted to read a book. i turned a page and you woke up. i was so tired of not being able to do anything that i started to ask around if people had let their kids cry in order to learn to sleep. many people told me they had. and lots of moms who i respected told me they had.
everyone i knew was telling me for months that i needed to do it. your grandparents. my grandmother. friends of your grandparents. my uncle. friends of mine. people we worked with.
and i was at my wits end.
so i tried it.
i did it at nap time. i put you in your crib once you were asleep in my arms. you woke up crying. i patted your butt and shhhhhed you as you cried and rolled over and reached your arms up for me to pick you up.
i thought i was doing the right thing. but it felt so wrong. it was awful. and i still feel like shit about doing it.
you fell asleep after about six minutes. and slept for about fifteen.
i tried it three days in a row. for one nap each day. and each day i felt nauseated in anticipation of it and during it and after it.
on the second day you cried less about four minutes and slept about twenty minutes.
you usually drifted off to sleep so peacefully and slept for a long time.
everyone said that i was doing the right thing. that it was good for you. that i just had to do it. that i had no choice.
but it felt wrong. it was wrong. it was no good for you. or for me. i did not have to do it and i did have a choice.
on the third day you cried for about two minutes. i said to myself, "f this. what the fuck is wrong with me?" and i scooped you up, said how sorry i was, tucked you into the moby wrap and held you tight. and i took a picture of us. and i never let you cry to sleep like that again.
so we went back to our lap naps. and sometimes i wrapped you up in the moby or tucked you in the ergo. and that was it. i felt so much better about me and about you and about sleep.
soon after this you started to sleep in the car. and the with the vacuum. and then i could nurse you to sleep in bed. and then i could sneak away. you used to wake up crying. now you just say, "mommy up!" and that's after you sleep for three hours nearly every day. all by yourself.
at night was always a different story. you usually fell asleep easily after your bath. i would get ready for bed and we would snuggle in on the couch together. daddy would bring me food and hold you while i ran to the bathroom. he would do everything for me that i couldn't do because i was holding you.
i sometimes forget how helpful he was. and i always want you to know that i couldn't be this type of mommy for you without a daddy like yours.
so anyway at night you usually woke a lot but you never cried at night. you never had to.
and these days, a couple of weeks shy of two, you are still usually up a lot. i mean every hour or two. but you are in bed with us so it's not as terrible as some might imagine. it would be terrible if i had to get up out of bed and go to you. but i don't. and maybe you would be sleeping through by now if you were in another bed, but for us and for now, this is just fine.
but here's the cool part. over the past few weeks, you've been sleeping longer stretches. you have only been waking up twice.it's glorious. these nights are still not the norm, but at least i know you are getting there. all by yourself.
i didn't have to let you cry.
i'm sure that lots of people who read this will have strong opinions about it -- and i would enjoy hearing them -- but i will disagree with them, for sure. because i know there is an option. we don't have to let our babies cry. and we do not have to teach them how to sleep alone.
today it's two pm and you are asleep on my lap. you've been asleep since eight last night. you are obviously fighting something off. but it's a day like this that makes me wonder how i ever got tired of sitting on the couch with the tv on and a sleeping baby boy on my lap.
those days were easy.
when you were eight months old i am ashamed to say that i let you cry in your crib.
i remember deciding to try it. you were asleep on my lap, where you had napped your entire life. i was in a bad frame of mind and feeling frustrated, i couldn't move if you were sleeping. or talk. or anything. i had to hold my pee. i couldn't eat. and it had been like that for eight months. i was sick of it.
so this one day you were asleep and i attempted to read a book. i turned a page and you woke up. i was so tired of not being able to do anything that i started to ask around if people had let their kids cry in order to learn to sleep. many people told me they had. and lots of moms who i respected told me they had.
everyone i knew was telling me for months that i needed to do it. your grandparents. my grandmother. friends of your grandparents. my uncle. friends of mine. people we worked with.
and i was at my wits end.
so i tried it.
i did it at nap time. i put you in your crib once you were asleep in my arms. you woke up crying. i patted your butt and shhhhhed you as you cried and rolled over and reached your arms up for me to pick you up.
i thought i was doing the right thing. but it felt so wrong. it was awful. and i still feel like shit about doing it.
you fell asleep after about six minutes. and slept for about fifteen.
i tried it three days in a row. for one nap each day. and each day i felt nauseated in anticipation of it and during it and after it.
on the second day you cried less about four minutes and slept about twenty minutes.
you usually drifted off to sleep so peacefully and slept for a long time.
everyone said that i was doing the right thing. that it was good for you. that i just had to do it. that i had no choice.
but it felt wrong. it was wrong. it was no good for you. or for me. i did not have to do it and i did have a choice.
on the third day you cried for about two minutes. i said to myself, "f this. what the fuck is wrong with me?" and i scooped you up, said how sorry i was, tucked you into the moby wrap and held you tight. and i took a picture of us. and i never let you cry to sleep like that again.
so we went back to our lap naps. and sometimes i wrapped you up in the moby or tucked you in the ergo. and that was it. i felt so much better about me and about you and about sleep.
soon after this you started to sleep in the car. and the with the vacuum. and then i could nurse you to sleep in bed. and then i could sneak away. you used to wake up crying. now you just say, "mommy up!" and that's after you sleep for three hours nearly every day. all by yourself.
at night was always a different story. you usually fell asleep easily after your bath. i would get ready for bed and we would snuggle in on the couch together. daddy would bring me food and hold you while i ran to the bathroom. he would do everything for me that i couldn't do because i was holding you.
i sometimes forget how helpful he was. and i always want you to know that i couldn't be this type of mommy for you without a daddy like yours.
so anyway at night you usually woke a lot but you never cried at night. you never had to.
and these days, a couple of weeks shy of two, you are still usually up a lot. i mean every hour or two. but you are in bed with us so it's not as terrible as some might imagine. it would be terrible if i had to get up out of bed and go to you. but i don't. and maybe you would be sleeping through by now if you were in another bed, but for us and for now, this is just fine.
but here's the cool part. over the past few weeks, you've been sleeping longer stretches. you have only been waking up twice.it's glorious. these nights are still not the norm, but at least i know you are getting there. all by yourself.
i didn't have to let you cry.
i'm sure that lots of people who read this will have strong opinions about it -- and i would enjoy hearing them -- but i will disagree with them, for sure. because i know there is an option. we don't have to let our babies cry. and we do not have to teach them how to sleep alone.
today it's two pm and you are asleep on my lap. you've been asleep since eight last night. you are obviously fighting something off. but it's a day like this that makes me wonder how i ever got tired of sitting on the couch with the tv on and a sleeping baby boy on my lap.
those days were easy.
14 September, 2011
milky other side
your uncle chris has you conditioned to ask for "milky other side" instead of just "milky" or just "other side".
before you could talk you would sometimes start crying "milky" while you were nursing. i figured out that you meant you wanted to switch sides so i taught you to say "other side". so eventually, your uncle thought it was funny and every time you would start to nurse he would say real loud, "other side" and you would then switch sides. now you do it all. the. time. you nurse on one side for a few seconds and then say, "milky other side!" you come up to me and ask for "milky other side". at night you roll over in your sleep and cry out, "MILKY OTHER SIDE!"
it's funny -- most of the time.
and these are the joys of nursing a toddler. that along with the putting your hand down my shirt while i carry you through target. or trying to eat a meal out at PJs and having you climb from your booster onto my lap and nurse underneath my attempts to finish my sandwich and beer.
but the craziest thing is what goes on in my mind about the future. your dad and i have decided that we are ready to try for another baby. and for us that means that i have to take lots of meds and shoot shots into my leg and have one (or two) of your frozen embryo siblings transferred into my womb. i am excited and afraid at the same time. but what i think about the most is the way that a new baby or babies will change you and me.
i love you and me.
i am finally really understanding you and i have finally become really patient you and you are finally becoming patient with me. we are in such a groovy groove. i am terrified of shaking your life up. of shaking our lives up. things are so good right now. they are getting easier every day. and even though i sometimes hate nursing you, i can't imagine that part of our relationship going away.
we have friends who have just been through this. watching them introduce new babies into their little toddlers lives has been so terrifying for me. i have seen them grimace through the pain of sore nipple throughout pregnancy. i have watched and listened as they have become so frustrated with their giant nursing kids while the little babies are latched on peacefully. why would i want to do this to you? to me? to us?
i know that you will get so much out of having a little baby around. you love babies. you will love having a sibling in the long run. and i know that the benefits outweigh all of the inconveniences or even the stress that it will cause you. me. us.
but still, i can't help but mourn the loss of you and me. i am already mourning it. and i am not even pregnant yet.
i love you so much. i love us. and i am sorry for the way your world might be rocked in the future. but for now, i will just keep on smiling and laughing -- and yes most times i even smile at four AM -- when you ask for, "milky other side!"
before you could talk you would sometimes start crying "milky" while you were nursing. i figured out that you meant you wanted to switch sides so i taught you to say "other side". so eventually, your uncle thought it was funny and every time you would start to nurse he would say real loud, "other side" and you would then switch sides. now you do it all. the. time. you nurse on one side for a few seconds and then say, "milky other side!" you come up to me and ask for "milky other side". at night you roll over in your sleep and cry out, "MILKY OTHER SIDE!"
it's funny -- most of the time.
and these are the joys of nursing a toddler. that along with the putting your hand down my shirt while i carry you through target. or trying to eat a meal out at PJs and having you climb from your booster onto my lap and nurse underneath my attempts to finish my sandwich and beer.
but the craziest thing is what goes on in my mind about the future. your dad and i have decided that we are ready to try for another baby. and for us that means that i have to take lots of meds and shoot shots into my leg and have one (or two) of your frozen embryo siblings transferred into my womb. i am excited and afraid at the same time. but what i think about the most is the way that a new baby or babies will change you and me.
i love you and me.
i am finally really understanding you and i have finally become really patient you and you are finally becoming patient with me. we are in such a groovy groove. i am terrified of shaking your life up. of shaking our lives up. things are so good right now. they are getting easier every day. and even though i sometimes hate nursing you, i can't imagine that part of our relationship going away.
we have friends who have just been through this. watching them introduce new babies into their little toddlers lives has been so terrifying for me. i have seen them grimace through the pain of sore nipple throughout pregnancy. i have watched and listened as they have become so frustrated with their giant nursing kids while the little babies are latched on peacefully. why would i want to do this to you? to me? to us?
i know that you will get so much out of having a little baby around. you love babies. you will love having a sibling in the long run. and i know that the benefits outweigh all of the inconveniences or even the stress that it will cause you. me. us.
but still, i can't help but mourn the loss of you and me. i am already mourning it. and i am not even pregnant yet.
i love you so much. i love us. and i am sorry for the way your world might be rocked in the future. but for now, i will just keep on smiling and laughing -- and yes most times i even smile at four AM -- when you ask for, "milky other side!"
17 August, 2011
here's where we are today
i took my yoga class. haven't been back since, but it's stayed with me. yoga is more important off the mat, anyway.
i went to acupuncture to get my chi flowing.
i have been reading my buddha books again. and i am finding some peace. of course i am not all better, but as far as the anger at the people who don't deserve it, i am letting go.
but then there were these two blog posts and a comment that got me thinking. the thoughts are rolling around in my head. so here i am letting them out. working through them. trying to figure it all out.
for one thing, i have decided that i will only be responding to a need for help when the help is asked for. i will reach out to people who are open and receptive. and the rest i will let go. i can accept that a parent can only make the choices that he or she is ready for right now in this lifetime. i can't change anyone. i can support other mothers if i know their decisions are made out of love, but when decisions are made out of selfishness, i believe that to be another story. i can't support that. i can keep my mouth shut (most of the time), but i cannot support it. babies are too too precious for us to treat them as if they matter so little.
so do i still judge? you bet. we all do. it's human nature. i'm working on it.
but here is the difference. i would never say something to a woman to make her feel bad for her parenting choices. yes, i say it here in my blog. but i don't force anyone to read my blog. people know where i am coming from. they don't have to read it. i say it on my facebook page that was set up specifically so i could say these things. i do not say it to a mother in line at the grocery store (well i did once, but i would never again). or to my friend. or to a cousin. or to anyone.
some say that if we don't want to be judged for our choices, we should not judge others. again, everyone judges. the trouble comes when we let those judgments out to hurt feelings. i would never outright tell a mother that she is making a wrong choice or that i think i know best. i may think these things in my head, and we all do and that's okay, but i would never let it out.
i do, however, find it amusing that so many feel it is okay to tell me that i should not have my baby in bed with me, that i should not still be nursing my son, that i should not pick him up every time he cries, that i should vaccinate him, that i should not have my baby at home, etc. etc. the difference is, though, that when someone says those things to me or about me, i don't care. it annoys the shit out of me that they think it's okay to say it, but it does not make me question what i am doing, nor does it make me feel guilty about my decisions. does it make me lose respect for the person. hell yes. does it make me keep them at a distance? for sure. but i say judge away!
i judge because i believe that our world is affected by the way people are born and by the way they are cared for as babies. i believe this because my gut tells me it is true. and because the research backs it up.
oh i know, you can find research to back up anything.
but i have yet to see research that proves that breast feeding is unhealthy (no matter how long it's done). i have never seen an ounce of research to prove that babies are not harmed in some way by being left alone to cry. i have never seen research that says it is not harmful to put a baby in your choice of plastic and to ignore it. i have not seen research that proves it is unsafe for a breast feeding mother to sleep in bed with her baby.
of course, it is impossible to prove that something is not harmful.
but i have read lots of research stating the opposite to be true.
so i am working on being unconsumed by it all. i am working on letting go. the buddha reminds me that suffering comes from the attachment to the idea that things should be different, not from the thing itself. so i am working on it.
and in the end, most of the babies will be fine. my hope is that in the future, we will all be more than fine.
i went to acupuncture to get my chi flowing.
i have been reading my buddha books again. and i am finding some peace. of course i am not all better, but as far as the anger at the people who don't deserve it, i am letting go.
but then there were these two blog posts and a comment that got me thinking. the thoughts are rolling around in my head. so here i am letting them out. working through them. trying to figure it all out.
for one thing, i have decided that i will only be responding to a need for help when the help is asked for. i will reach out to people who are open and receptive. and the rest i will let go. i can accept that a parent can only make the choices that he or she is ready for right now in this lifetime. i can't change anyone. i can support other mothers if i know their decisions are made out of love, but when decisions are made out of selfishness, i believe that to be another story. i can't support that. i can keep my mouth shut (most of the time), but i cannot support it. babies are too too precious for us to treat them as if they matter so little.
so do i still judge? you bet. we all do. it's human nature. i'm working on it.
but here is the difference. i would never say something to a woman to make her feel bad for her parenting choices. yes, i say it here in my blog. but i don't force anyone to read my blog. people know where i am coming from. they don't have to read it. i say it on my facebook page that was set up specifically so i could say these things. i do not say it to a mother in line at the grocery store (well i did once, but i would never again). or to my friend. or to a cousin. or to anyone.
some say that if we don't want to be judged for our choices, we should not judge others. again, everyone judges. the trouble comes when we let those judgments out to hurt feelings. i would never outright tell a mother that she is making a wrong choice or that i think i know best. i may think these things in my head, and we all do and that's okay, but i would never let it out.
i do, however, find it amusing that so many feel it is okay to tell me that i should not have my baby in bed with me, that i should not still be nursing my son, that i should not pick him up every time he cries, that i should vaccinate him, that i should not have my baby at home, etc. etc. the difference is, though, that when someone says those things to me or about me, i don't care. it annoys the shit out of me that they think it's okay to say it, but it does not make me question what i am doing, nor does it make me feel guilty about my decisions. does it make me lose respect for the person. hell yes. does it make me keep them at a distance? for sure. but i say judge away!
i judge because i believe that our world is affected by the way people are born and by the way they are cared for as babies. i believe this because my gut tells me it is true. and because the research backs it up.
oh i know, you can find research to back up anything.
but i have yet to see research that proves that breast feeding is unhealthy (no matter how long it's done). i have never seen an ounce of research to prove that babies are not harmed in some way by being left alone to cry. i have never seen research that says it is not harmful to put a baby in your choice of plastic and to ignore it. i have not seen research that proves it is unsafe for a breast feeding mother to sleep in bed with her baby.
of course, it is impossible to prove that something is not harmful.
but i have read lots of research stating the opposite to be true.
so i am working on being unconsumed by it all. i am working on letting go. the buddha reminds me that suffering comes from the attachment to the idea that things should be different, not from the thing itself. so i am working on it.
and in the end, most of the babies will be fine. my hope is that in the future, we will all be more than fine.
12 August, 2011
pumping and working -- with love from guest blogger meredith
meredith is a super mom. i remember when we first met up together after having a baby, we chatted about all of the nursing challenges we had faced. i remember her saying specifically, "quitting just wasn't an option." i reference this quote often. it's just like anything else, if you enter a challenge with the idea of trying it out or seeing if it will work, undoubtedly, you will fail. if quitting is not an option, you will figure something out. you will make it work. just like meredith did. she went back to work and pumped for an entire school year. she had enough extra milk that she was able to supply other moms who needed milk for their babies with her own liquid love. my friend used her milk while her baby was in the nicu for months. there are so many stories of women who have made it work, against the odds, when others would have just given a bottle of artificial milk. i hope that these women will speak out and share their stories, too. more women need to understand that where there is a will, there is a way. if it's important to you, you can do it. and with a support network such as the one we have created on facebook, it makes it that much easier. so if you are a working mom, or are planning to go back to work after having your baby, or know someone who is, please ask to join meredith's facebook page. share it out. because if a mom wants to continue nursing, going back to work should not stop her. it's even law now that employers must provide a suitable and comfortable location THAT IS NOT A BATHROOM for moms so that they can pump. so here is a little something from meredith about meredith.
I breastfed until I was 4. I helped my mom pump for my sister. I tandem nursed with my younger sister. I grew up in a log cabin in the woods with my hippy parents. I guess you can say I was destined to be a breastfeeding mom.
From the time I got pregnant with Brayden in June of 2009, I knew I was going to breastfeed. There was no other option for me. And then when Brayden was born four weeks early on January 28, 2010, I was in for a challenge. He was so little & had so much trouble latching on. Thank goodness for my mom, my husband, & the nipple shield. Without these three things, I would have given up. Each day got easier & we fell into a groove & are still going strong almost 19 months later!
I knew I would have to go back to teaching that September, when Brayden was about 7 months old. With college loans, credit card debt, mortgage, & all the other fun expenses of being an adult, it was not an option for me to stay home, even though I wanted to so badly. However, I am very lucky with my childcare situation – my husband is a firefighter who works one 24-hour shift & then has three days off, so he is home with B most of the time & the other days a friend would watch B at our house or I would drop him off to go play with his friends & their stay-at-home moms.
I started pumping in June a bit so when I taught summer school for 5 weeks, 4 days a week, 3 hours a day, Brayden could still have my milk if he wanted when I was gone. So he would nurse before I left in the morning, then would sometimes take a bottle when I was away from him, & then he’d nurse as soon as I got home. Then in August I started pumping more frequently to prepare my freezer for my first school year as a working mom.
I knew that pumping at work would take some getting used to when teaching started up in September. It would be a daily occurrence – I would have 27 minutes, yes ONLY 27 minutes, to pee, pump, & eat. I was getting nervous just thinking about it. Was this even possible? But I knew I wanted Brayden to have breastmilk each & every day even when I was not there, so it was just something I had to get adjusted to doing every single school day. Back in July, I had ordered a Simple Wishes Hands-Free Pumping Bra from Amazon. This would allow me to eat, check Facebook, read e-mails, etc. while I pumped. This was the best $30 I ever spent! If you are going back to work, this is a must-have!
So I fell into a routine of running to the bathroom right after my advisory class, locking my classroom door, sitting down in a desk, getting the pump all set up, eating, packing up all the pump parts, & making sure I was ready for my 6th period class all in 27 minutes. When my body became adjusted to pumping, I was able to pump an average of 8-10 ounces each day. Just remember if you only get 3-5 ounces in a pumping session in the beginning, this is totally normal. Your body needs time to get used to the pump, so don’t give up!
As Brayden’s first birthday approached in January, I figured I’d stop pumping. This is what I had heard people talk about – only pumping until their baby was one. But Brayden was still taking some breastmilk from a bottle almost every day, so I didn’t want to deny him that. So I continued to pump until June. It had become second nature to me, so it was no big deal!
At almost 19 months, Brayden still nurses 3-4 times a day & a few times throughout the night. Whether he is nursing for comfort or food, I don’t care. I just cherish these special bonding times that we have together, just the two of us.
Our nursing relationship has continued to be strong even though I had to be away from him from 8:00am to 3:30pm, Monday through Friday from September to June. I would try to nurse him in the morning before work if he wanted to, pump at work, and then we would nurse right when I arrived home. This was a great way for me to relax after work & reconnect & touch base with Brayden after my work day. Then he would continue to nurse quite a bit the rest of the afternoon & evening as if to catch up for missed nursing sessions during the day.
As another school year approaches, I start to get sad that I have to be away from my little boy again, but I know that we will always be able to catch up when I get home over warm breastmilk.
I breastfed until I was 4. I helped my mom pump for my sister. I tandem nursed with my younger sister. I grew up in a log cabin in the woods with my hippy parents. I guess you can say I was destined to be a breastfeeding mom.
From the time I got pregnant with Brayden in June of 2009, I knew I was going to breastfeed. There was no other option for me. And then when Brayden was born four weeks early on January 28, 2010, I was in for a challenge. He was so little & had so much trouble latching on. Thank goodness for my mom, my husband, & the nipple shield. Without these three things, I would have given up. Each day got easier & we fell into a groove & are still going strong almost 19 months later!
I knew I would have to go back to teaching that September, when Brayden was about 7 months old. With college loans, credit card debt, mortgage, & all the other fun expenses of being an adult, it was not an option for me to stay home, even though I wanted to so badly. However, I am very lucky with my childcare situation – my husband is a firefighter who works one 24-hour shift & then has three days off, so he is home with B most of the time & the other days a friend would watch B at our house or I would drop him off to go play with his friends & their stay-at-home moms.
I started pumping in June a bit so when I taught summer school for 5 weeks, 4 days a week, 3 hours a day, Brayden could still have my milk if he wanted when I was gone. So he would nurse before I left in the morning, then would sometimes take a bottle when I was away from him, & then he’d nurse as soon as I got home. Then in August I started pumping more frequently to prepare my freezer for my first school year as a working mom.
I knew that pumping at work would take some getting used to when teaching started up in September. It would be a daily occurrence – I would have 27 minutes, yes ONLY 27 minutes, to pee, pump, & eat. I was getting nervous just thinking about it. Was this even possible? But I knew I wanted Brayden to have breastmilk each & every day even when I was not there, so it was just something I had to get adjusted to doing every single school day. Back in July, I had ordered a Simple Wishes Hands-Free Pumping Bra from Amazon. This would allow me to eat, check Facebook, read e-mails, etc. while I pumped. This was the best $30 I ever spent! If you are going back to work, this is a must-have!
So I fell into a routine of running to the bathroom right after my advisory class, locking my classroom door, sitting down in a desk, getting the pump all set up, eating, packing up all the pump parts, & making sure I was ready for my 6th period class all in 27 minutes. When my body became adjusted to pumping, I was able to pump an average of 8-10 ounces each day. Just remember if you only get 3-5 ounces in a pumping session in the beginning, this is totally normal. Your body needs time to get used to the pump, so don’t give up!
As Brayden’s first birthday approached in January, I figured I’d stop pumping. This is what I had heard people talk about – only pumping until their baby was one. But Brayden was still taking some breastmilk from a bottle almost every day, so I didn’t want to deny him that. So I continued to pump until June. It had become second nature to me, so it was no big deal!
At almost 19 months, Brayden still nurses 3-4 times a day & a few times throughout the night. Whether he is nursing for comfort or food, I don’t care. I just cherish these special bonding times that we have together, just the two of us.
Our nursing relationship has continued to be strong even though I had to be away from him from 8:00am to 3:30pm, Monday through Friday from September to June. I would try to nurse him in the morning before work if he wanted to, pump at work, and then we would nurse right when I arrived home. This was a great way for me to relax after work & reconnect & touch base with Brayden after my work day. Then he would continue to nurse quite a bit the rest of the afternoon & evening as if to catch up for missed nursing sessions during the day.
As another school year approaches, I start to get sad that I have to be away from my little boy again, but I know that we will always be able to catch up when I get home over warm breastmilk.
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