The Birds and the Bees...

Today I picked Ty up from school and he gave me a thumbs up like everything was cool. When I asked him about his day he handed me this pamphlet


(I don't know why it's sideways and windows photo gallery won't let me rotate it. Blah!)

YUP, it was THAT day in 5th grade today!

Here's what Mr. T. had to tell me about it: "You were right. I already knew everything. I told them I have a baby brother so I know how babies are formed."

FACE PALM...

Where we WON'T be living...

Here is where we won't be living: 1. A somewhat spacious 4/2 complete with wall drawings from the toddler that used to live there. Nope, they don't plan on repainting, I asked. 2. What I think could be an ideal 4/3, but the listing agent didn't show up to the showing. And he had a pretty surprising attitude when I called him b/c we were there and he wasn't. I told him to call me when we was available to show the house. Haven't heard from him and it's been almost 2 full days. Not the guy I want to be giving my rent check to... 3. And my favorite- a 4/3.5 at the beach. The owner is in west Africa as a missionary and has the keys with her. As soon as I send her a check for $1,000 she will mail me the keys and the house is ours. What do you take me for? A complete idiot? The only real option at the moment is a very spacious 4/2 plus a very tiny office in a neighborhood with 50,000 road humps. There are some real selling points to the house, but there are some drawbacks. Can someone else please make this decision?

Sleep When the Baby Sleeps...(3/5/12)

(originally written 3/5/12, just a few weeks before the big 1 yr birthday)

These are the jerks  precious angels that plot against me.

Sleep When the Baby Sleeps….

“Sleep when the baby sleeps!” We’ve all heard it. It sounds like such a good idea. But obviously the person that invented that gem of a saying never had a baby. Am I right?

My baby doesn’t sleep. I guess we’ve made progress, but he’s dangerously close to the one year mark and the most I can hope for is 4 hours in a row, once a night. Other than that it’s every hour, give or take.

He doesn’t nap well, either. The first 6 months of his life consisted of 20 minutes here, 20 minutes there, a few times a day. The “experts” say that is a sure sign he is overtired. Well, experts, take cover. I am squaring up. I have tried everything to get the child to go to sleep and stay asleep. Believe me, I want him to sleep more than anyone else in the whole blessed world. What he wants is me to hold him upright and walk around for hours, so he can doze against me and never commit to a REM cycle. People, it ain’t happenin’.

Here is the scientific law of naps: If your baby falls asleep and you lay down for a snooze, said baby will wake within 20-30 minutes. If your baby falls asleep and you decide your families’ need for non-toxic clothing and dishes is greater than your need for sleep, said baby will give you a solid 1-2 hours. Babies are jerks like that.

Of course, this is not taking into account older siblin gs that tamper with infant sleep preferences for sport. Finally got your baby napping? Sorry, in all that effort time got away from you and in 15 minutes you’ll need to pack that baby up and head for the carpool line. Baby snoozing peacefully? Too bad, because big brother decided the hallway where the BEDROOM DOORS ARE LOCATED would be perfect as a bowling lane, complete with crashing pins and balls hitting the “bumpers” (also known as WALLS).

So yeah, sleep when the baby sleeps. You will be +12 minutes of sleep and -1 shower. You can do the math, but I’ll tell you, it just stinks. 

Don't Stop Me Now, I'm on a Roll!!!!

I've been on a cooking spree. I'm not making huge gourmet meals for my family or anything, just trying new things that have ALL TURNED OUT AMAZING!
Here's what I recommend:
1. Easy Peasy Rice and Beans (pay attention to the addendum as the crockpot involved is apparently old and does not heat very well. Mine is super hot, so I cooked accordingly.)
2. Egg In A Hole (This has been called "Better than McDonald's" by a certain 11 year old...)
3. Also, homemade "uncrustables" pb&j sandwiches were a big hit made with my brand new Crustbuster. I made a whole loaf of bread worth and stuck them in the freezer, just like real, actual Smuckers Uncrustables Sandwiches. Ty says mine are better. I told him it's because they're made with love. <3
4. Green beans sauteed with chopped onion in a little olive oil. Season with salt and pepper. Cook them until they are a little burned. That's called "carmelized" and it's delicious.

And then there were brussel sprouts.

Pretty, huh? They are also "carmelized". I was considering myself quite the chef. Until I ate one. Unfortunately, they tasted the way diarrhea smells. That is not an exaggeration. There are not words for how terrible they were. So I tried not to puke up the one I managed to eat and I dumped the rest in the garbage can. And now my garbage can stinks. The end.

Oh Where Oh Where Are We Going To Live?

If all goes well, our house closes 1 month from today. We have nothing lined up to move into. No plan A. No plan B. Now, there are some stipulations with the buyer's financing as far as the inspection goes, so it's entirely possible that we end up at square 1 with our house back on the market (Please God, don't let that happen!).
We thought we found the perfect house. Way back before we put our house on the market. We believed it was the house God had for us. I heard angels singing, I saw our boys playing in it. We assumed it was ours for the taking. But all doors have been closed on us and that house. I'm pretty sure they were nailed shut as well. Oddly, it's still available for rent. Just apparently not to us...?
I've been so inundated with sickness that I haven't done much looking for another house. Even when I do look for houses, it feels off. I am well aware that is weird. 
Realizing again today that closing is getting closer and we have nowhere to go, I looked for houses again. I found a great one, I think. We go on Friday to see it. I feel like I'm going through the motions because I'm suppose to find a place for my family to live, but I also feel like I don't need to. Like God's got it handled and I'm either wasting my time or getting in the way. 
It's all just weird. Despite the fact that we could be lacking a home in a month I feel no motivation to find one. I do feel stress, lots of stress. But I'd feel more stress if I thought this house thing was my problem. 
Either I trust God to provide for my family or I don't.

Today's God Moment (9/28/2011)

(Originally written 11/9/2011)

I had an epiphany from God today.

You can think I am drawing conclusions and connecting imaginary dots if you like, it's okay with me. You'd be wrong, but you can think that. You can also think I'm crazy. At this point, I am, but I'm clear on this. 

Here's the thing. Eli is below the weight chart. He's been below the weight chart. I attempt to feed him ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT. It is so. much. work. The real problem with all this feeding is it messes with my head. I'm constantly counting his calories and estimating ounces of formula and trying to figure out if he's had enough and how I can get more in him, etc. etc. I've developed quite an obsession/fear of sorts about his feedings. 

EVERY SINGLE DAY a random stranger says some version of, "He looks so healthy." All I can think is Have you SEEN a baby recently? I know he's pretty, but there is a striking lack of rolls. I literally cannot find pants that are long enough for his legs, yet small enough around the waist to actually come in contact with his middle. He's had 5 tests in the last 5 months at the children's hospital. They all come out fine, but he won't eat, his sleeping sucks, he is not healthy, he's too skinny, he's below the weight chart, I WANT ROLLS ON MY BABY!

I'm not crazy enough to say any of this. Most of the time. 

And then I was driving home today. Eli was in his car seat, awake as usual. I was thinking about how God uses people to do His work. And then I thought about the interaction I had this morning with a woman and how frustrated I was that no one seemed to understand what I was going through with Eli.  

And then it hit me. All of these people who keep telling me that Eli is healthy is GOD TELLING ME Eli is healthy. He's using all these people day after day to get His point across to me. Eli is okay. I might not like his "stats", and it might be inconvenient and even a bit stressful to try to feed him 7, 8 times a day, but Eli is the tiny little person that God created him to be. The sky isn't falling and Eli isn't dying. He's growing. He has had 5 tests in 5 months and what have they all shown? That he is "normal".

I can keep obsessing and living in fear that tomorrow he will stop eating altogether, OR I can do my best to feed him and love him, and enjoy him, because he won't let me cuddle him forever. 

We didn't name him Elijah for nothing. "The Lord is my God." Yes, indeed. 

So THERE!!! (9/28/2011)

(Originally written 9/28/2011)

The very writing of this probably solidifies my crazy status, but I simply can't help myself. By the time we go through all of these tests and possible hospital visit with Eli and finally have a diagnosis and hopefully a solution, I know that I will be too darn thankful for it to be over and to have a healthy baby for me to have an "I told you so" moment. So I'm having it now.

For the two months that I tried and tried and tried and tried some more to breastfeed Eli, it wasn't me! I wasn't the problem! He doesn't have the correct suck-swallow motion to be able to breastfeed! Formula could not be helped! (words directly from the doctor) So there! I'm not crazy!

For the lack of "schedule" or "routine" STILL at 6 months, it's not me! I'm not crazy! He can't get enough food in him at one time to stay on any sort of a schedule. We have a rough outline that gets us till noon or 1pm, and that's as far we've made it in 6 months, though I've tried and tried. 

For all of you that think I'm crazy because I consider Eli a "challenging" baby and you consider him a "happy" baby, I'm not crazy! Yes, he is the cutest, sweetest, brightest baby ever, but he's had feeding problems from day 1. Feeding problems= sleeping problems, growing problems, and neurotic mom problems. 

So there! 

Also, I would like to apologize to all my baby mommy friends. I have had mean, jealous, "must be nice" thoughts about all of your fat, growing babies while mine has gained and lost the same 2 ounces these past few weeks. I am sorry. I will cut that out. Now that I have been vindicated.

ADDENDUM 5/23/2012: I had no idea what was coming or that all the problems would have no known cause or resolution. Apparently I have been tired and crazy for a long time! :)

Why I'm Happy to See 28 (8/23/2011)

(Originally written 8/23/2011)

Since our 1 year anniversary of meeting Tyrell in April, I keep thinking about where we were on this date a year ago. If you're sick of hearing my restrospective, go ahead and quit reading. But if you've somehow missed my soliloquizing on the matter, by all means, read on.

My birthday last year was terrible. By far my worst birthday ever. Really, my only bad birthday, but who wants a terrible birthday? Maybe it was that it was the first day of school, maybe it was that I was 11 or so weeks pregnant and sick and exhausted, maybe it was that Tyrell was still "new" to our family and therefore everyday was an uphill battle....take your pick. But it was terrible. 

I wouldn't go back to those days for all of the money in the world, Even if you offered to magically double the size of my house, pay it off, and provide a live in maid. Wouldn't do it. 

Fortunately or unfortunately, I can't rehash all of the events and emotions of the past year. It's just too personal, and maybe too fresh. The entire year wasn't bad. We had some fun times...halloween when Tyrell was Darth Vader and asked me if we could carve a Darth Vader jack-o-lantern (turns out we could! Who knew?), Tyrell's baptism, Tyrell's adoption, Christmas was magical, Tyrell's first trip to Disney World was also magical, and then there's the day Eli was born. These were all great things. But sprinkled between these joyous ocassions was my traumatized son who tried to run away from me at church and I ended up holding him in my lap to restrain him from himself until I could take him by the arm and get him safely in the car (where I put on my sunglasses and Ty in the backseat and cried silently to myself while I drove around town deciding what to do or say next). That is just the tip of the iceberg and these type of events occured nearly every day for months. And in the middle of all that I was having a terrible pregnancy and fighting with caseworkers just to get to adopt this boy that I could not control. I am so glad it's over.

In addition to all of the chaos that was Tyrell, I wondered for 9 months how I could possibly meet Tyrell's needs and care for a newborn (who was definitely not going away). It's not that I didn't want Eli, I just hadn't planned on him, and I couldn't see how he fit into the equation that our family had become. What would Tyrell do when the baby was born? How would Tyrell feel having a sibling who was biological to his parents? Would I ever be able to leave Eli and Ty alone in a room without fear that Ty would inadvertently hurt him? And where the heck were we going to put this baby, anyway? 

Then Eli was born, and quite frankly, that only made everything worse. Because Tyrell had been improving so much through January and February and his freakouts were becoming much less severe and much fewer. Of course when Eli was born Ty completely freaked out. And then I completely freaked out...for about two weeks...and then at least four times a week after that for about three months. And the government seized online poker sites, virtually unemploying Jerry when Eli was three weeks old. Not exactly the time to lose your job.

As things felt like they were getting worse and worse I kept wondering what exactly it was that God was preparing me for, that I had to go through these difficult times (that seemed to be never ending). And whatever it was, I didn't want any part of it. Please don't argue with my theology, that's just where I was spiritually at the time. 

Perhaps the worse part was the helplessness and fear that often comes with parenting a "hurt child". Tyrell was doing the best he could. And we were doing the best we could, but there was still a giant chasm between us with no real blueprints for bridging it. It didn't help that I developed a COMPLETELY IRRATIONAL fear that Jerry was going to leave me with this child and one on the way. He never did or said anything that would make one think that, and he is an incredible husband who loves me unconditionally. But fear is fear, rational or not. 

I am so glad it's over. I don't know what the future holds, but I know that life is pure joy these days. Well, joy and exhaustion. ;)

I have everything I could ever want in this life- a wonderful husband, two beautiful boys, and I get to devote myself to motherhood. I told Jerry he's off the hook for gift-giving occasions for at least a year, maybe forever. But of course he got me a birthday present anyway- a family photo session with a photographer. How perfect is that?

Life is good. Thank you, Jesus, for your mercy. 

ADDENDUM 5/23/2012: I had no idea what was coming! Eli has been sick on and off (mostly on) since September! And it has not been a walk in the park with Ty. At all. But we're still here, doing our best to love God and each other a little more each day!

Adventure's in atypical motherhood (8/12/11)

(Originally written 8/12/2011)

I love Tyrell more than anything. But adopting an older child with a traumatic history has it's share of strange moments. They are getting fewer and farther between the longer he is with us, but they still pop up sometimes and I can't help but scratch my head or laugh to myself. I am usually rendered speechless. There are holes in his development and sometimes you think he already knows something, or should know something, and doesn't. 

Today we were running errands and Tyrell wanted to bring his friend along. I agreed. In the car, said friend was talking about some young childhood memories. This tends to be a sticky area for Tyrell because his young childhood was so unstable and unhealthy. Tyrell generally handles these situations well, though, and started talking about when he was living in a hotel with his birth parents and an old man a few doors down would watch him sometimes when his parents weren't there. His friend questioned him, whether it was a hotel or an apartment. Tyrell said sometimes both. (At this point he seemed to know it wasn't a "typical" experience and his friend might find it strange.) Then the friend seemed to have a lightbulb moment and stated, "Oh, like Suite Life of Zac and Cody?" Um, no. A thousand times, no. And then Tyrell replied "Kinda."

And then I scratch my head, and love on my baby some more.

Learning How to Bend (3/29/11)

(Originally written 3/29/11, with a week old baby)

I had big plans for Eli. Big, granola, plans. You know, mothering the way nature intended. Natural childbirth, strictly breastfeeding, no bottles for at least a month (of pumped milk, of course!), no pacifier, dye free and chemical free diapers and wipes, and on and on and on.

Apparently Eli had even bigger plans. Plans for modern medicine. 

I don't have anything against modern medicine, it just wasn't what I wanted for my baby. 

Let's begin with going 9 days overdue. People asked when I would be induced. As uncomfortable as I was, I wanted things to happen on their own, so I chose not to be induced until my doctor would have forced it on me (I had 5 days left). 

I woke up with my water broken just after midnight on the 22nd. There was meconium in the fluid (baby poop). Doctors don't like that, so I had to go to the hospital right away instead of laboring at home. Strike 1. 

After 8 hours of labor I had progressed from 1 to 2 cm. A friend of mine asked me afterward if labor was as bad (painful) as people make it out. My response? Even worse. So much worse. There are no words. 

So I finally, heartbreakingly agreed to an epidural due to the fact that it had been 8 hours and I still had so very far to go and I just couldn't handle it anymore. Strike 2.

A few hours later I had progressed a couple more cm, but not much, so in came the pitocin. Strike 3.

I will keep all the rest of the tubes and wires to myself, but I had a grand total of 6 tubes throughout my body, including the epidural. Strike 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8.

Due to the meconium in the fluid, a neonatologist had to be present for the birth. They told me they didn't want the baby to breathe immediately, they wanted to suction out his lungs before he could inhale the meconium into his lungs. That meant I would have to wait to hold him until the neonatologist was done working on him. Strike 9.

Well, Eli was born, and aside from being so teeny tiny (5 lbs. 6 oz) he seemed to be healthy. I was glad it was all over. I felt pretty good that first night. No one warned me about the coming days...and hormones. 

Initially Eli seemed to be breastfeeding well, we were getting the latch down, and even though he wouldn't keep the latch very long, the nurses assured me that he was getting enough, he was small so he didn't need a huge amount of food, besides my milk would come in in a few days and we'd be off to the races. 

The second night he cried a lot. And I cried a lot. I think every time a nurse came in my room I was sobbing. I felt like a moron, but I couldn't help it. Plus I was alone because Jerry had taken Ty to stay at home that night because that was the best decision for Tyrell at that point. 

The third night we were finally at home and Eli didn't sleep too much. He cried a lot. He wasn't peeing and pooping AT ALL, but he was eating every hour. I was still crying. We went to the lactation consultant the next day. He weighed 4 lbs 13 oz. He just barely had scraped by the dreaded 10% weight loss (clocked in at losing 9.5%). She decided he wasn't taking enough in, even though he seemed to be eating constantly. She recommended continuing to breastfeed, then pumping and feeding him by squirting the milk into his mouth with a syringe, using a finger to simulate a nipple. Strike 9.

That afternoon went well.Then came the night. That night he slept for 45 minutes. There was nothing wrong that we could find and he just kept crying and rooting, as though he was hungry. We kept trying to feed him. At one point we decided to put him in his bassinet, thinking he would have to wear himself out at some point. An hour later we decided maybe he wasn't going to wear himself out. I tried skin to skin, I tried swaddling, I tried rocking, I tried white noise, I tried more white noise by turning on the blow dryer and leaving it on for 3 hours. Nothing. I tried not to fall asleep holding him. I considered co-sleeping, even though it isn't recommended for newborns. 

We went to the lactation consultant again the next day. I tearfully told her that I absolutely didn't want to give him formula, but if she told me that would make this all better then I would accept it. She assessed him, then bottle fed him formula so that she could see and feel how he was eating. One ounce later he was laying on her lap, out like a light, fat and happy like he had just eaten Thanksgiving dinner. Jerry and I stared in disbelief. He had not looked like that once since he was born. He looked relaxed and content. I had to cry some more. The lactation consultant encouraged us to keep trying to breastfeed, then pump and feed him breastmilk first, and if he still seemed hungry to make up the different with formula. Strike 10. 

Two days later I called the lacation consultant because even though Eli had barely cried since we started bottle feeding (praise the Lord! He's content!) he was doing worse and worse at breastfeeding. It was as though he was fighting me. And he was winning. 

So we went in again to the lacation consultant (3 times in 4 days) who again tried to get him to breastfeed. She also got out some various contraptions to help him along and that didn't do a bit of good. After a little while she said me (the LACTATION CONSULTANT of all people), "He just doesn't want to do this, does he?" Nope. Not really. Not at all. Strike 11. 

We walked away from that appt with the following plan: Don't give up on breastfeeding, but don't kill yourself trying to make it happen. Maybe try it a few times a day when he's really hungry. You never know. But to get food in him, pump and bottle feed and then supplement with formula. Strike 12. 

The worst part? He likes the formula better. The formula that I had believed was so far beneath the milk that I produced for my baby. Strike 13. 

The pediatrician compared breastmilk to filet mignon and formula to hamburger and asked me which one he'd choose. Apparently I have a hamburgler on my hands. 

Do I want my baby to be healthy and happy? OF COURSE!!! 

Did I want it happen this way? NO!! 

I got over the labor and delivery not going according to my plan. But this formula business? It breaks my heart. 

I'm thankful for modern medicine and I'm thankful for formula, and I'm thankful that I live in a time and place where those things are readily available for my baby. But I still don't like it.

Prologue

I have done some blog-type writing from time to time, both on facebook notes and just on my computer. I'm going to transfer those things over to this blog. I will think of it as the prologue to the blog. :)