I had said in my last post that I would keep updates coming. My bad for not actually POSTING the updates. I have kept a somewhat ongoing diary of each day on my phone though. And here it is. Clearly, you can see how each day is a battle... physically and mentally.
January 16-- had (what Elizabeth later identified as) some mild contractions when I laid down for bed at the end of the day. She said this was likely to happen off and on, and that i needed to let her know if it got to the point where I had to work through each one.
January 17th-- felt heavier and like I was carrying lower than normal all day, was very busy and on my feet a lot. Got a nap, but around 8:45 had to lie down, and the same dull back pain and abdominal cramps from the night before came back. Nothing that must keep my concentration, but hard to ignore too because I feel like it's signaling that things are going to get rolling in the next few days. Feeling pissy and emotional. Want to cry because things aren't getting done and I'm not allowed to do them. If everything were ready my mind might let my body do its thing, but I feel like these last minute details are what's keeping me from going into active labor.
January 18th-- some mild contractions in the afternoon. Barely noticeable, but there. These beginning contractions are way different than what I remember. A lot more tolerable than anything I ever had with Roscoe.
January 19th-- 5 am woke up to go to the bathroom and started contracting again when I laid back down. They've been coming and going in waves now for an hour. I was preparing mentally to have the baby tomorrow, maybe I'm wrong?
January 21st-- first contraction since late lunch yesterday came around 2:40. It was the first decent one yet that required any sort of thought to get through. More around 10 pm. Had 3 contractions in the span of 20 minutes. Expressed reaching the point of getting frustrated with contractions that didn't seem to be going anywhere. Mark told me that he thinks my biggest enemy in labor is my mind. I tend to agree. Working now on relaxing and letting my body do its thing.
January 23rd-- Felt like today was it. When nothing happened by the end of the day I was feeling very down. Becoming weary of daily contractions that "aren't doing anything." Whether or not they are dilating me, I know these contractions are beneficial and warming my body up. But my emotions have a hard time accepting it. It's definitely a battle between my heart and my mind.
It's one thing to know that a due date is not an expiration date, it's another thing entirely to be aware of that but experiencing contractions from 37.5 weeks.
The contractions picked up today more than ever. More of them more often, but still irregular. Almost 11 pm now and I'm hoping to get a decent amount of rest tonight. Although I feel contractions may interrupt that sleep.
January 24th-- Doesn't this baby know his due date is still over a week away? It's fine for him to be "overdue." But there's really no need to fake me out with so many on-off-on-off contractions. Mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausting.
January 26th-- Right now I'm good. Nothing on the physical front. I think I've reconciled in my mind that I'm ok with this lasting another week. My due date still isn't til a week from tomorrow. And I never imagined that I'd last that long, but that doesn't mean he'll come early. And I know it'll be a challenge once he's here, and nothing will be the same again (even though I'm excited about that). So right now I'm enjoying time with Roscoe while he's still my only little boy. And resting as much as possible.
January 28th-- After a couple days of nothing and being ok with that, at 11 pm as I tried to start relaxing to sleep, I got a few contractions. Just going to breathe, hopefully go to sleep.
January 30th-- not gonna lie, compared to the previous birth, these contractions feel good. They feel like everything I had expected but didn't get to experience with Roscoe. "It's a good pain," "they feel like they're accomplishing something," "it's uncomfortable and painful, but you can breathe through them." Right now as they come I'm just relaxing and enjoying the fact that they're warming my body up for the real thing. Elizabeth encouraged me yesterday to just ignore them until I couldn't possible anymore. I'm in a lot better spirits today than I was a week ago with still being pregnant.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Monday, January 21, 2013
Don't fear the normal
There have been so many things about this pregnancy that are different than Roscoe's. The first time, everything was so new to me and I knew that I wanted a natural birth, but didn't know exactly what that looked like. And that made me want to keep it all to myself--the whole experience. I didn't want to broadcast what was happening as it happened to me because I didn't know anything about it experience wise. That's why, if you knew me then, one day I was pregnant and then *bam* there were pictures of Roscoe online. Only a handful of people knew that I was in labor when I was in labor. The biggest reason for that was because I wanted privacy, worried that the stress of everyone pressuring me about how things were going would only cause my body to slow down. Maybe I was right. Maybe I was wrong. Who knows. It was a complicated birth regardless, and whether or not having it all to ourselves helped or hurt the process isn't worth trying to figure out now. It happened. And I apologize if my selfishness for the kind of birth I wanted left you hurt or offended that you didn't know the details of what was happening when.
This time, however.....
I have a totally different approach. There are so many women who fear birth. I did at one time. And I honestly feel that our culture is to blame for that. We've taken something so natural to the essence of women and created a monster out of it. A big, ugly looking, scary, "it's-gonna-eat-me-if-i-get-near-it" monster. It shouldn't be that way! And with this labor and birthing experience, I'm hoping to share my experience and journey in an attempt to normalize labor and childbirth. I know the circle of people that read this is a small one, but if it can positively affect even one person, then I'll be happy.
So as I experience these first twinges of labor pains, I want to talk about it, normalize it.... Let people know what I'm going through so they can see what a natural birth looks like. And not be scared of it. The way the woman's body was designed is so fascinating. And we're constantly told lies about our bodies prior to birth. One of the most common I hear from people is "my pelvic bones are too small to birth, my doctor told me I have the smallest ones he's ever seen." And I'm not mocking women who have believed this lie. If I had a doctor tell me the same thing, I'd believe it too. Why wouldn't you? They're supposed to know everything about birth... Here's the thing. At this moment, my pelvic bones are probably too small to pass a child through. Maybe, maybe not. But at the beginning of pregnancy? Definitely! No woman's body is ready to give birth when the doctor usually tells her that her pelvic bones are too small. That's the amazing part of the design. During childbirth, my body will release a wonderful array of hormones responsible for different things. One of them (I'm not my midwife, I can't tell you the name of it) basically allows the bones in my body to unhinge themselves and separate/stretch out to make room for the baby to pass through the birth canal. The tailbone even swings out (it's normally curved inward slightly) to make room. That's the one my midwife was concerned about before Roscoe, because I had a tailbone injury a year or so prior to his birth. But a few visits to the chiropractor insured that everything was ok... (Yes, I could feel the pain in my tailbone during birth, but it wasn't enough to keep me from birthing.)
So the one time I've given birth? Man, Roscoe's labor was hard. He wasn't in the correct position. Every second of every contraction was the most terrible thing I've ever experienced. Back labor is no joke. And anyone who has been through it can testify to the severity of that kind of pain.
What if that happens again? Well, that's gonna suck.... But I wouldn't trade the natural birth for anything, after having been through it once already. So he wasn't in the right position..... He was still born. It still worked out. Even though I "didn't know what I was doing" and had no way of knowing what was ahead of me when labor started, my body still handled it. There's crazy ridiculous insane strength and courage inside of every woman to give birth, but as a whole, we're too scared to trust our bodies and instincts to try it, mainly because we believe the lies that we're told about birth.
Sure, this time around I'm hoping for a correctly positioned baby, to facilitate a calmer, more peaceful birth than the first. Who wouldn't hope for that?
But regardless, I'm not going to allow myself to fear the process. I'm made for this. And if you're the average woman, you are too. I'm not a super hero because I birth my children at home. But I am blessed to know about the birthing process, and that's what I want other women to have. Knowledge. I know too many sad stories of women who just didn't know their options, and consequently didn't get the chance to let their bodies work naturally.
So in the coming days I hope to make more posts about what's going on with my body and what I'm experiencing pre-labor-wise.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Is so much whining normal?
Often in this house it feels like all I'm listening to is a constant stream of toddler whines. Sure, there are happy moments and times of laughter, but those fussy, whiney cries of discontent can so quickly drown out all the happy noises. It's exhausting.
I'm trying to find the balance between being strictly authoritative and leading by being calm. Both ways can achieve accurately communicating that that's not how we express ourselves in this house, but they're totally different approaches. The first feels to me like a stiff and intolerant method. Roscoe gets whiney, and I turn into an order-barking porcupine. "You stop that whining right now." Bam. That's it. No wiggle room, no discussion. The second method looks more like: roscoe gets whiney, and I approach him lovingly, gently; put him on my lap and calmly (firmly, yes, but serenely) convey that we don't whine our words. That he is welcome to always tell me how he feels, what he is thinking, but without whining. We as his parents are always here to listen and talk things through. There is no "porcupine" feeling here. I am being completely approachable, nothing to fear.
I believe both methods have their right place. When I say I want to calmly, lovingly instruct him, I'm not saying that I let him walk all over me. Yes, I am the parent and he is the child. I get that. I know there are times when the firm "put the foot down, don't stand for anything else" approach is necessary, but should that be the case every. single. time.? Can't we communicate and instruct our children without barking orders all day long?
Does any of this make sense? I've heard that every child responds to different methods of teaching and correction differently, I'm just trying to figure out how mine is wired in this area. And it's a challenge, considering he's a toddler who can't yet communicate with words, only whining--the very thing I'm trying to correct.
Advice?
I'm trying to find the balance between being strictly authoritative and leading by being calm. Both ways can achieve accurately communicating that that's not how we express ourselves in this house, but they're totally different approaches. The first feels to me like a stiff and intolerant method. Roscoe gets whiney, and I turn into an order-barking porcupine. "You stop that whining right now." Bam. That's it. No wiggle room, no discussion. The second method looks more like: roscoe gets whiney, and I approach him lovingly, gently; put him on my lap and calmly (firmly, yes, but serenely) convey that we don't whine our words. That he is welcome to always tell me how he feels, what he is thinking, but without whining. We as his parents are always here to listen and talk things through. There is no "porcupine" feeling here. I am being completely approachable, nothing to fear.
I believe both methods have their right place. When I say I want to calmly, lovingly instruct him, I'm not saying that I let him walk all over me. Yes, I am the parent and he is the child. I get that. I know there are times when the firm "put the foot down, don't stand for anything else" approach is necessary, but should that be the case every. single. time.? Can't we communicate and instruct our children without barking orders all day long?
Does any of this make sense? I've heard that every child responds to different methods of teaching and correction differently, I'm just trying to figure out how mine is wired in this area. And it's a challenge, considering he's a toddler who can't yet communicate with words, only whining--the very thing I'm trying to correct.
Advice?
Friday, November 16, 2012
Hard to say goodbye
Sherman Lee Grant.
Goodness. He was such a good boy. I met Sherman when I met Mark a little over 6 years ago. Those 2 were a package deal. I wasn't much of a dog person then, to be honest with you, but that guy had a way of winning everyone over. He was full of excitement and energy and life. Even if you were having the worst day of your life, walk in the door and he'd be standing there, tail wagging, overjoyed that you came home. He was never not excited to see you. Even to the last day of his life, when we knew he was in pain, we could approach him with the usual "who's a good boy...." and that tail would start twitching.
There will be more dogs, but there will never be another Sherman. I don't even care if you as a reader think this sounds stupid.... But I am so thankful to God that he gave Mark the gift of Sherman when he did. That dog was right beside Mark through a bad bad bad (but oh so fortunate for us all) breakup with his ex, the death of 3 of his 4 grandparents, not to mention just the plain everyday struggles and frustrations of life.
He sensed things. When I was pregnant with Roscoe, that was when we really started to bond more than ever before. He would come to my side of the bed every morning (after his morning visit with Mark, of course---priorities!) and cuddle against my chest, often placing his paw on my large belly. I remember specifically one time that Roscoe pushed against that paw from the inside, and Sherman just looked down and pushed back against Roscoe. And those 2 were best buds from Roscoe's birth. Thankfully right now I think Roscoe is just the right age to not really know what's going on, or why Sherman isn't here, though he does miss him. Often during the day, even though Buddy is still here right now, Roscoe will walk through the house and say "Doggie! Doooooggie? Doggie..." It definitely breaks this mama's heart.
But it was his time. That's what comforts us most right now. He's not suffering anymore! About 3 months ago, he just started acting so old so suddenly. Mostly joint pain, but we had some medicine to give him. He seemed to respond to that and antibiotics, and was still eating and acting normal. He just seemed like an older dog. But over time, it got harder and harder for him to get up and down the stairs, and he started falling more often when he was trying to get up and down.
What's frustrating to me is that he had gotten so much better a couple weeks ago. Mark had to be gone for military duty for 1 week, and I was nervous about what was going to happen to Sherman while he was gone. But to our surprise, he improved. That was at the beginning of this month.
But starting about a week ago, he plummeted downhill. He stopped eating, wasn't drinking much, wasn't motivated to get up in the morning (sometimes lying in the same spot until noon or later, when he needed help getting up to go to the bathroom). We went to hang out with friends as usual Sunday night, and when we got home around 11 pm, he was lying by my side of the bed and wouldn't get up. Normally both dogs sleep in the office, but that night we just covered him up where he was. He didn't get up Monday morning, and when he hadn't gotten up by noon Mark made the painful statement that if he didn't get up by evening, we were going to have to call the vet and most likely put him down. There had been talk before about "if he gets much worse we'll have to put him down" but never on a time frame like that.
Oh if I could have willed him to move! I was sending him all the "GET UP!!" vibes that I could. I didn't like what was staring us in the face. See, I've never been through this part of pet ownership before. It sucks. I remember our family having a cat when I was very little, but I guess children are a little more resilient and bounce back pretty quickly. So when Simon the cat died, that was the last pet I had until Mark and I got married.
Sherman finally got up with Mark's help Monday night when we were going to bed, around 11 pm. 24 hours with no food, water, bathroom breaks...nothing. He ate about 3 bites of food and drank a good bit of water. Mark took him outside and when he came back in he said Sherman fell 2x while trying to pee. His muscle strength was just gone.
He went to bed and Tuesday morning rolled around. I wasn't exactly sure what was going on, and was asking Mark what we were going to do. I could tell it was killing him and that it was a hard decision to make, so I decided (knowing my husband and the way he handles things best) to scoop up Roscoe and head to spend the day with my parents so we were out of Mark's hair and he could handle it however it needed to be done--on his own.
Mark's dad came to the house to have lunch with him, and during that time I guess the decision was made that it was, for certain, time to let Sherman go--for his sake. I got a text from Mark around lunchtime that he was going to take Sherman in at 2:40.
Sherman's normal weight was around 75 pounds, never below 70. He tipped the scales that afternoon at a whopping 50 something. To our comfort, when the vet came into the room where Mark and Sherman were, she immediately said "this isn't the same Sherman you kenneled here 2 years ago is it?!" And she proceeded to fervently agree with the decision as she was examining him. She said that he had something else going on when she felt his stomach--it was like rocks. With Sherman's age (turning 8 in the spring), she said that her advice would be to put him down. Sure, there were probably oodles of test and things we could run, and then lots of medication we could have put him on. For what? To *maybe* give him another year? Nah, he wasn't happy anymore. He was ready to go. That full-of-life, sometimes too excited weimer was in too much pain to make him deal with it anymore.
Mark hasn't told me this, and I'm not saying I know how his mind works, but I'm venturing to guess that this is the hardest decision he has had ever to make. Sherman was more than just a dog to him, more than just a pet. I swear those 2 had a secret language that only they understood.
As for now--Sherman is buried in our backyard. We'll probably get him a nice marker. Mark is doing ok, considering. Yes, it hurts, yes, he grieves. Daytime isn't too bad. But evenings get difficult. (What is it about the sun going down that makes things more difficult to handle?) Buddy seems confused. Roscoe doesn't seem to notice much, aside from the occasional "doggie?" and search through the house. And, yes, even I, the "don't have to have a dog" kinda person, am frequently sad throughout the day, wishing I could go in to Sherman's bed and give him some attention and love. I never knew the absence of a pet could create such an emptiness in a house. I guess a good word to wrap up the way we feel is "raw."
Realizing that this isn't a bad dream. That it was Sherman's time to go. That he had a good life. And that our lives were better having him than if we hadn't. So, yes, there's pain. And it's not easy. But even so, we don't for one second regret that he was ours for the time that he was.
Rest in peace, Sherman. You're a good boy. And we miss you like crazy.
Goodness. He was such a good boy. I met Sherman when I met Mark a little over 6 years ago. Those 2 were a package deal. I wasn't much of a dog person then, to be honest with you, but that guy had a way of winning everyone over. He was full of excitement and energy and life. Even if you were having the worst day of your life, walk in the door and he'd be standing there, tail wagging, overjoyed that you came home. He was never not excited to see you. Even to the last day of his life, when we knew he was in pain, we could approach him with the usual "who's a good boy...." and that tail would start twitching.
There will be more dogs, but there will never be another Sherman. I don't even care if you as a reader think this sounds stupid.... But I am so thankful to God that he gave Mark the gift of Sherman when he did. That dog was right beside Mark through a bad bad bad (but oh so fortunate for us all) breakup with his ex, the death of 3 of his 4 grandparents, not to mention just the plain everyday struggles and frustrations of life.
He sensed things. When I was pregnant with Roscoe, that was when we really started to bond more than ever before. He would come to my side of the bed every morning (after his morning visit with Mark, of course---priorities!) and cuddle against my chest, often placing his paw on my large belly. I remember specifically one time that Roscoe pushed against that paw from the inside, and Sherman just looked down and pushed back against Roscoe. And those 2 were best buds from Roscoe's birth. Thankfully right now I think Roscoe is just the right age to not really know what's going on, or why Sherman isn't here, though he does miss him. Often during the day, even though Buddy is still here right now, Roscoe will walk through the house and say "Doggie! Doooooggie? Doggie..." It definitely breaks this mama's heart.
But it was his time. That's what comforts us most right now. He's not suffering anymore! About 3 months ago, he just started acting so old so suddenly. Mostly joint pain, but we had some medicine to give him. He seemed to respond to that and antibiotics, and was still eating and acting normal. He just seemed like an older dog. But over time, it got harder and harder for him to get up and down the stairs, and he started falling more often when he was trying to get up and down.
What's frustrating to me is that he had gotten so much better a couple weeks ago. Mark had to be gone for military duty for 1 week, and I was nervous about what was going to happen to Sherman while he was gone. But to our surprise, he improved. That was at the beginning of this month.
But starting about a week ago, he plummeted downhill. He stopped eating, wasn't drinking much, wasn't motivated to get up in the morning (sometimes lying in the same spot until noon or later, when he needed help getting up to go to the bathroom). We went to hang out with friends as usual Sunday night, and when we got home around 11 pm, he was lying by my side of the bed and wouldn't get up. Normally both dogs sleep in the office, but that night we just covered him up where he was. He didn't get up Monday morning, and when he hadn't gotten up by noon Mark made the painful statement that if he didn't get up by evening, we were going to have to call the vet and most likely put him down. There had been talk before about "if he gets much worse we'll have to put him down" but never on a time frame like that.
Oh if I could have willed him to move! I was sending him all the "GET UP!!" vibes that I could. I didn't like what was staring us in the face. See, I've never been through this part of pet ownership before. It sucks. I remember our family having a cat when I was very little, but I guess children are a little more resilient and bounce back pretty quickly. So when Simon the cat died, that was the last pet I had until Mark and I got married.
Sherman finally got up with Mark's help Monday night when we were going to bed, around 11 pm. 24 hours with no food, water, bathroom breaks...nothing. He ate about 3 bites of food and drank a good bit of water. Mark took him outside and when he came back in he said Sherman fell 2x while trying to pee. His muscle strength was just gone.
He went to bed and Tuesday morning rolled around. I wasn't exactly sure what was going on, and was asking Mark what we were going to do. I could tell it was killing him and that it was a hard decision to make, so I decided (knowing my husband and the way he handles things best) to scoop up Roscoe and head to spend the day with my parents so we were out of Mark's hair and he could handle it however it needed to be done--on his own.
Sherman's normal weight was around 75 pounds, never below 70. He tipped the scales that afternoon at a whopping 50 something. To our comfort, when the vet came into the room where Mark and Sherman were, she immediately said "this isn't the same Sherman you kenneled here 2 years ago is it?!" And she proceeded to fervently agree with the decision as she was examining him. She said that he had something else going on when she felt his stomach--it was like rocks. With Sherman's age (turning 8 in the spring), she said that her advice would be to put him down. Sure, there were probably oodles of test and things we could run, and then lots of medication we could have put him on. For what? To *maybe* give him another year? Nah, he wasn't happy anymore. He was ready to go. That full-of-life, sometimes too excited weimer was in too much pain to make him deal with it anymore.
Mark hasn't told me this, and I'm not saying I know how his mind works, but I'm venturing to guess that this is the hardest decision he has had ever to make. Sherman was more than just a dog to him, more than just a pet. I swear those 2 had a secret language that only they understood.
As for now--Sherman is buried in our backyard. We'll probably get him a nice marker. Mark is doing ok, considering. Yes, it hurts, yes, he grieves. Daytime isn't too bad. But evenings get difficult. (What is it about the sun going down that makes things more difficult to handle?) Buddy seems confused. Roscoe doesn't seem to notice much, aside from the occasional "doggie?" and search through the house. And, yes, even I, the "don't have to have a dog" kinda person, am frequently sad throughout the day, wishing I could go in to Sherman's bed and give him some attention and love. I never knew the absence of a pet could create such an emptiness in a house. I guess a good word to wrap up the way we feel is "raw."
Realizing that this isn't a bad dream. That it was Sherman's time to go. That he had a good life. And that our lives were better having him than if we hadn't. So, yes, there's pain. And it's not easy. But even so, we don't for one second regret that he was ours for the time that he was.
Rest in peace, Sherman. You're a good boy. And we miss you like crazy.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
catch up and announcement
It's been so long since I've updated because I don't know how to blog without including a big part of what's going on in my life. I guess if I'm going to write about my life here, and I've got something I'm not ready to share yet, it's hard to write anything at all.
So with that said, if you don't know this already, baby #2 is on the way! We're thrilled. I'm due around the beginning of February, and Roscoe's birthday is February 13, so they'll be 2 years apart, which is what we originally wanted when we first started discussing having children.
Just another week or so of 1st trimester, which excites me beyond what I can express. I'm ready for energy to return for sure. The sickness this time only seemed to be hard-core for about a month, whereas with Roscoe it was all day every day for the first trimester, with throwing up at least once a day. But I could literally lie around all. day. long.
Are we wanting a girl? Well, of course. We would both love to have a daughter, but I'm trying not to think about it too much because I know I would be totally in love with another little guy as well. I don't want to get all hyped up for a girl only to find out it's a boy and have to deal with a guilty feeling of disappointment. A baby is a gift no matter what gender, health, etc. Besides, we won't find that out until the end of October anyway, so that's too far away to be thinking about right now.
I did have to temporarily abandon the "no 'poo" experiment. I went without using shampoo for a solid 3 months, substituting baking soda for it. But my hormone levels went so crazy at the beginning of this pregnancy that I couldn't take the oily-ness anymore and couldn't seem to trouble shoot it. So I'm back to using shampoo for the moment. Bleh. Oh well, I'll get back to it again. (But see, I didn't know how to update about that when I made that change...without saying "I had to start using shampoo again because my hair got so greasy because WE'RE GOING TO HAVE ANOTHER BABY.")
Oh, and just to explain, we wanted to wait a bit to announce the pregnancy because sometimes pregnancies can seem soooo looooong when they're announced early. If we kept it a secret for a month or so, our theory is that it would make it feel a little faster. We'll see if that worked...
Roscoe is being my little sweetheart these days. I often get a few visits from him while he's playing--just so he can cuddle and smile with me for about 15 seconds before he tears off again. It's so nice to be able to experience a child learning to give/receive love. I know I'm just going to die when he reaches the age to tell me he loves me.
So with that said, if you don't know this already, baby #2 is on the way! We're thrilled. I'm due around the beginning of February, and Roscoe's birthday is February 13, so they'll be 2 years apart, which is what we originally wanted when we first started discussing having children.
Just another week or so of 1st trimester, which excites me beyond what I can express. I'm ready for energy to return for sure. The sickness this time only seemed to be hard-core for about a month, whereas with Roscoe it was all day every day for the first trimester, with throwing up at least once a day. But I could literally lie around all. day. long.
Are we wanting a girl? Well, of course. We would both love to have a daughter, but I'm trying not to think about it too much because I know I would be totally in love with another little guy as well. I don't want to get all hyped up for a girl only to find out it's a boy and have to deal with a guilty feeling of disappointment. A baby is a gift no matter what gender, health, etc. Besides, we won't find that out until the end of October anyway, so that's too far away to be thinking about right now.
I did have to temporarily abandon the "no 'poo" experiment. I went without using shampoo for a solid 3 months, substituting baking soda for it. But my hormone levels went so crazy at the beginning of this pregnancy that I couldn't take the oily-ness anymore and couldn't seem to trouble shoot it. So I'm back to using shampoo for the moment. Bleh. Oh well, I'll get back to it again. (But see, I didn't know how to update about that when I made that change...without saying "I had to start using shampoo again because my hair got so greasy because WE'RE GOING TO HAVE ANOTHER BABY.")
Oh, and just to explain, we wanted to wait a bit to announce the pregnancy because sometimes pregnancies can seem soooo looooong when they're announced early. If we kept it a secret for a month or so, our theory is that it would make it feel a little faster. We'll see if that worked...
Roscoe is being my little sweetheart these days. I often get a few visits from him while he's playing--just so he can cuddle and smile with me for about 15 seconds before he tears off again. It's so nice to be able to experience a child learning to give/receive love. I know I'm just going to die when he reaches the age to tell me he loves me.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
a better day
I am currently thankful that, despite a few episodes, today was pretty much a normal, fit/tantrum free day for the little guy. I did notice that I was focusing more attention on him, putting the iPhone away, and not trying to multitask so much when he was wanting to play with me. I'm not sure if that's what made the difference or not. But it did take a lot of effort. To be honest, keeping up with him wears me out! He's absolutely exhausting.
He's been in bed almost an hour, and I've been sitting in the silence trying to upload pictures from the beach. Apparently I'm running low on disc space on the laptop, so we need to clean the computer out before I can get those pictures in and uploaded here.
He's been in bed almost an hour, and I've been sitting in the silence trying to upload pictures from the beach. Apparently I'm running low on disc space on the laptop, so we need to clean the computer out before I can get those pictures in and uploaded here.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
when the little one seems too big
I've been struggling with Roscoe. It seems like the "terrible 2s" have arrived early. More like the "terrible pre-18months," only the tantrums and fits seem to be directed mostly at me.
I just got off the phone with Mark about this, and he was encouraging (as encouraging as he can be, because this is not an easy phase for me)... But I thought I'd get my thoughts out, let you into my head, try to relinquish my stubborn "I-can-do-it-myself" childlikeness, and make myself open to suggestions and advice.
Roscoe has always had a tendency to pitch a fit. That started when he was tinier than tiny. But those fits used to be easily corrected (easily enough). He responded to our correction. Now, he's putting up really really big fights. His temper is...just right there....right under the surface ready to explode. And when he doesn't get what he wants, BOOM!!!!!!
Without giving examples, I'll say that 90% of the time, with words and facial expressions Mark can correct him and get the desired response. It isn't easy, but it works. The other 10% of the time that Mark handles it, it takes more effort.
I feel like the numbers are reversed for me. For whatever reason, my 90% is full of frustration and failure, where on my end I'm receiving abuse and anger from my own son...my 15 month old son. Often he gets angry at me and screams in my face multiple times, sometimes throwing a hit in there. Discipline doesn't seem to phase him, so it just turns into a seemingly endless cycle of whining, fussing, screaming, correction, wash, rinse, repeat.
I think what is the hardest for me is that all I feel that I do is pour love into him. I feed him. I play with him. I bathe him. I change his diapers. I wash his diapers. I tuck him in bed. He is my job, he's what I am employed to care for 24/7.
And he returns that with consistent tantrums and ungratefulness?
Another frustrating factor is that I generally stay calm and even-keeled. He's not feeding off my temper because I'm not releasing a temper.
So, I know that this is really something that all moms have to deal with. I've had multiple family members/friends tell me that when daddy comes home, the babes are angels. But God help the mother during the day, because those same babes are running around like demons.
So how do we deal with it? How do you keep control of your child when it seems like everything you do is a failure? How do you handle the emotional let down of wanting to receive love back from your child and the bulk of what you see returned to you is negativity?
Moms, speak...
I just got off the phone with Mark about this, and he was encouraging (as encouraging as he can be, because this is not an easy phase for me)... But I thought I'd get my thoughts out, let you into my head, try to relinquish my stubborn "I-can-do-it-myself" childlikeness, and make myself open to suggestions and advice.
Roscoe has always had a tendency to pitch a fit. That started when he was tinier than tiny. But those fits used to be easily corrected (easily enough). He responded to our correction. Now, he's putting up really really big fights. His temper is...just right there....right under the surface ready to explode. And when he doesn't get what he wants, BOOM!!!!!!
Without giving examples, I'll say that 90% of the time, with words and facial expressions Mark can correct him and get the desired response. It isn't easy, but it works. The other 10% of the time that Mark handles it, it takes more effort.
I feel like the numbers are reversed for me. For whatever reason, my 90% is full of frustration and failure, where on my end I'm receiving abuse and anger from my own son...my 15 month old son. Often he gets angry at me and screams in my face multiple times, sometimes throwing a hit in there. Discipline doesn't seem to phase him, so it just turns into a seemingly endless cycle of whining, fussing, screaming, correction, wash, rinse, repeat.
I think what is the hardest for me is that all I feel that I do is pour love into him. I feed him. I play with him. I bathe him. I change his diapers. I wash his diapers. I tuck him in bed. He is my job, he's what I am employed to care for 24/7.
And he returns that with consistent tantrums and ungratefulness?
Another frustrating factor is that I generally stay calm and even-keeled. He's not feeding off my temper because I'm not releasing a temper.
So, I know that this is really something that all moms have to deal with. I've had multiple family members/friends tell me that when daddy comes home, the babes are angels. But God help the mother during the day, because those same babes are running around like demons.
So how do we deal with it? How do you keep control of your child when it seems like everything you do is a failure? How do you handle the emotional let down of wanting to receive love back from your child and the bulk of what you see returned to you is negativity?
Moms, speak...
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