Is it just a matter of Physics?

I hate labels.  I hate being called one thing when in all honesty I'm not.

One most recent thing I've realized that I'm not 100% on board with is this Attachment Parenting thing.  Although I practice it almost 100% with my  11 mos old; I realized today, that I'm not 100% on board!

He had pushed someone over, his cousin, and my first gut reaction was to tell him what he had done was wrong.  Yes, I told an 11 month old that pushing his cousin over was wrong...  Oh. Em. Gee!

I don't think I could go without telling him that pushing his cousin over to the point where she bumped her head was wrong.  I don't think I could have ignored that teaching moment.  No I didn't punish him.  No I didn't fuss at him.  I just simply stated that it wasn't right to push her over and when you push something; something is going to happen in a "reaction" type manner.  It's basic physics. 

I dunno; call me particular.  Call me strict.  Call me not so AP.  It just came out...  It just happened!  And honestly, I'm not ashamed of it.  So If you want to write me off the AP bandwagon then go ahead!  I honestly don't care.  I'm tired of the labels and I'm tired of the separating of mothers. 

We do the best we can in the moments that we have.

Scars

Last summer I became a member of IG.  It's an iphone app called Instagram.  On this app you can get to know people who you choose to follow and choose to follow you; through pictures.  I followed some mommy's over from another app called "The Bump".  It's basically a large support group for mommies.  Now I know you probably think I'm crazy and that these women are not who they make themselves out to be; but I've gotten to know a good handful of them over the last 7 months.  We share a lot of our fears, hopes, dreams. Some of us have really been there for each other!  More than I can say for some of my "in real life" friends. Things change when you become a mom.  Friends disappear!
More recently I have began to confide in some of these moms about the never ending barrage of issues my husband has; emotional and physical! My IRL (in real life) friends get sick of hearing about all of this; so I digress...
He is a walking time bomb.He's told me bits and pieces of his experience over the last 16 years; so I end up having to put it together.  Some of this (about 1/2) I have lived through with him face to face.  But I recently found out that he originally started having "issues" when he was about 9 years old.  He has told me that his stomach has never really been "right"...  always bloating and cramping and things of that matter (I don't want to embarass him with gory details) When he was 12 it got really bad one night and he ended up in the ER.  To his disbelief they told him, after running him through a battery of tests, that it was nothing and sent him home with a dose of pain killers.  From what I understand he ended up back in the ER the next morning where upon they discovered that he had acute appendicitis.  They scheduled surgery immediately and ended up finding out that it had ruptured and he was also suffering with Peritonitis.
While he was in the hospital recovering from this surgery; he had his first bowel obstruction.  It's where scar tissue (adhesions) decide to wrap itself around your organs...  In his case, his small intestines.  They performed another surgery.  12 years old and 2 major surgeries, a brush with death, and a month out of school!  He will tell anyone that this is when his life changed.  His mother says she noticed an immediate difference in his demeanor and in his attitude.  He became very bitter, withdrawn, and anti-social.
I remember bringing his brother home from school one Friday afternoon when we were in HS.  My husband was in his first semester of college and I was absolutely enamored with him.  He was always outside washing his truck when I would pull up in my BroncoII.  Somedays he would have a tank top on and on this one day he had his top off... NICE!  Anyway, I noticed his scars.  And I asked him about them (because I'm nosey like that).  We weren't dating at the time so I was just being a nosey 17 year old girl with a crush.  He told me that he had had some surgeries and it just amazed me.  It didn't scare me it all... Especially coming from a girl who had never in her life been cut on.
When we did start dating, several months later, he would briefly tell me tid bits here and there about his experiences in the hospital.  To me; it made him different from all the hardcore guys I had dated (jerks) and for some odd reason it made him appear sensitive to me.  This big kid with muscles and a rough exterior had been to hell and back...  Had met God face to face and told him to F*off!  WOW! 
When we had been dating about 6 months (May 1996) he had another episode and he ended up in the hospital.  To make a long story short; he ended up with 2 bowel obstructions and was in the hospital for a month.  I made it up there to see him every single day (except for 2).  He tells me now that he knew then that I was "the one"...  he still says that any other girl would have run far away! It was at this time that I was told there was no cure for this.  There is no prevention.  Every single time they open him up; it leads to more adhesions.  And the only way to get rid of the obstruction is to open him up!  He is a ticking time bomb!
The following year; in March, he ended up in the hospital again and he had to go through surgery AGAIN!  3 major surgeries in less than a year...  My sweet husband; honestly, I don't know how he does it!
Over the next several years he experienced several 'close calls'; where he thinks he's having another episode of a bowel obstruction.  We go to the ER, they take xrays, and they stick an NG tube down his throat.  He stays in the hospital for a week and we consider it a close call because he comes out of it without being cut on.  But every time we go thrugh those doors, it wears on his soul a little more, I know it does!
He has PTSD from this; he suffers with anxiety, panic attacks, nightmares, insomnia.  The thought of not knowing when it will happen again but that it WILL happen...  Good Grief!  I try to push it out of my mind and move on; but he has to live this each and every day.

37% of bowel obstructions are fatal 11-21% are reoccurring 

I don't want to lose him to this; but on the really hard days, I know I already have. 




So if you ever question my fear of having a second C-Section (because you know, "It's easier than pushing your baby through your vagina") just remember why; I've watched my husband deal with this for the last 16 years. 

One Way or Another

Sometimes I wish there was no such thing as Google...

It's a shame what you find when you go looking for one thing only to find another.

My stomach is in knots and I want to vomit.

Thank Goodness my BFF is on her way over.  She said she could just feel that I wasn't well this morning.

My Heart is Broken


There are many things in my life that I regret; none more than those years spent trying to figure out who the hell I am.  Too bad I had to find out the hard way that I went about doing so the wrong way!

A*D*D doesn't mean B*A*D

This morning I made the mistake of telling a "friend" that we medicate my almost 8 year old. I should have known better; at least from my own experience, than to open my mouth up to yet another disbeliever. She made me feel like shit about my our decisions. This was a decision that I had a hard enough time making on my own... I didn't need her f'g two cents making me feel like I was a rotten mother for doing so.

I grew up an awkward child. I never really fit in anywhere and I had too much energy to save my life. We moved around a bit. Each time I would start to become comfortable with my new surroundings my dad would get transferred and we would move again.  A new school.  A new home.  A new bully.

Life didn’t come easy for me.  I was always saying the wrong thing or doing something to piss someone off.  I couldn’t concentrate in class to save my life.  I was a chatterbox.  I was socially awkward.

Around the time I started High School I realized I needed to be away from the classroom in order to successfully take my tests.  I asked for help and what resulted was a battery of tests in order to get me “qualified” for the Resource Program.  It was a program within the private school that would allow me to escape the rigorous and torturous classroom.  And so it began…  my new life with a new label.  It was called ADHD and I had no idea what it really meant.  Except for the fact that I got to take medicine and that I was different. 

My mother began by telling me that this was in no way something I could use as an excuse to get out of responsibilities or doing homework.  That I was just like everyone else; my brain was just wired differently.  Back then no one really knew what it was really about and no one knew what it was called.  This was back when Ritalin was the main med and there wasn’t a thing at school they could really do for you except label you and move on.  I took the medication and noticed an immediate change.  I was patient.  I could focus. 

I had several experiences over the next few years that made me realize I was better keeping it a secret rather than be truthful with people.  One that sticks in my head to this day was the time I became friends with a girl and her mother told me that I wasn’t allowed at her house unless I took my medication.  Needless to say I didn’t go over much after that.  I was made to feel unwelcomed.

When I became pregnant with Mason I begged pleaded and prayed for God not to give him my burden.  I didn’t want him to have to go through what I did.  After he was born there were little things that would make me think that maybe he and I shared more than just DNA.  He was a restless baby.  He didn’t sleep well at any age.  He was bored easily.  He was easily over stimulated.  He had sensory issues. 

When he started Kindergarten his teacher and I did not get along.  I think she was trying to tell me in so many words that something was going on but she just wasn’t straight forward with me.  She was always talking in circles and trying to avoid the topic.  It was like she wanted to say something but was too afraid to do so.  She just blamed it on Leland and I and assumed we were horrible parents.  YES; his teacher accused us of being horrible parents.  We had him evaluated and immediately began natural supplementation.  We saw an immediate difference…  but the tests said we didn’t have anything to worry about.  I felt it was interviewer error!

Then first grade began.  His teacher was wonderful.  She is patient and kind and met him at the door with a smile.  He was gun shy from his experience in Kindergarten.  His mother had just found out she was pregnant.  His father had just lost his job.  And his 4 year old summer friend had just died in a horrible pool accident. 

We began counseling a few weeks later upon the recommendation of the Guidance Counselor.  Little man was going through so much we thought it was attributing to some of the behavior difficulties he was having in class.  It was minor things.  But they were keeping him from being able to learn.  And I thought having to adjust to no longer being the only child was attributing to some of this. 

He’s just like me you know; fierce!  No need to be like anyone else.  Marches to the beat of his own drum.  Sees beauty in everything.  Doesn’t like injustice.  Loves babies.  Tenderhearted!

I cried my eyes out the week we decided to put him on medication.  It was a year ago this week.  The social worker stted that until we were able to get his “ADHD” under control that she would be unable to help him with the death and family change issues.  I was floored.  It took a lot for me to face that demon.  I cried the entire way home.  I also cried for entire week. 

But when that first week came and he was on medication for the first time we saw an immediate difference.  Just like I felt that first time I took it.  It gave us both clarity. 

Considering my child’s impulsiveness could possibly kill himself or another person I feel that it’s my duty to make sure he takes his medicine daily.  It’s not just about his behavior at school.  It’s about him learning how to train his brain to slow down. 

It kills me that people have such a negative stereotype for kids like me and Mason.  We TRY!  We honestly really do.  We want to do good.  We want to make the right decisions.  We want our thoughts to flow in one congruent direction.  We want people to be proud of us.  We want to be accepted. We don’t want people to see us as nuisances.  We don’t want to be trouble.

Our awkwardness is a gift.  We can get a hundred things done at once.  We are determined.  We are bright.  We have wild thoughts and crazy ideas.  We can be the life of the party.

We aren’t BAD…  We just have ADD!

The Magical Bean

With the birth of Mason I became a mother.  When James was born I became a warrior. 

Both of my children have proven to be blessings within themselves.  Each bringing a different personality to the table that we call home.  I cannot believe I have given birth to these two bright beautiful spirits.  And as different as they are individual; so are their birth stories.

It was November 2003.  Somewhat cold and yet warm because we awaited the birth of our first child.  He would be the first grandchild on both sides of our family.  It was celebration to be had by all.  By the end of November; I would be the last person celebrating.

The month started with subtle contractions.  I had no idea what I was in for because I didn’t think there was anything else I needed to know about giving birth.  I didn’t need to go to classes.  I didn’t need to read books.  I thought all I needed to do was show up at the hospital and PUSH my baby out.  I wasn’t “DUE” until the beginning of December; and so it began!

I showed up in assessment several times over the next few weeks.  I had baby stalkers everywhere and they all were anxiously awaiting the birth of our first.  Advice came from all ends; the old, the young, the single, the plenty.  They were all telling me how to “get him out”…  And I thought that the due date was my deadline.  I needed to get him out.  I wanted to get him out. 

During my visit, the week before Thanksgiving, my doctor proposed induction.  And we bit.  I thought, “hey, why not choose my babies birthday….”  Could we all have birthdays in November?  Could we all end up weeks apart? 

It would be the WORST decision/mistake I have made to date! I also have to say; it’s the one decision in my life that I regret the most.  I think about this, and rethink, and think more, about that day; that decision, That MISTAKE…. 

In no way is the birth of our first son a mistake.  Please do not misunderstand me.  But the way we chose it.  How I was sucked in to my Doctor’s suggestions.  My god….  I was so freaking naïve. 

To make a VERY long story short….  I call his birth my “induction for convenience from hell gone c-section”!  I believe that the reason my Dr. suggested I be induced is because she did not want to end up in the delivery room come Thanksgiving day.  And how could she; I wasn’t even dialated when she decided to pump me full of Pitocin!

After 24 hours of labor, 2 hours of pushing, a lot of anxiety, crying, tears, kicking my family out of the room, eternal embarrassment, and a stubborn little boy who took his time coming down the birth canal to only end up “sunny side up”….  I had a FUCKING C-Section!!!!!!!!

That damn doctor gave up on me.  What I also know to be true is that I allowed every single medical intervention to be done to me because I didn’t know any better.  I trusted my doctor.  I allowed her to take control of MY BIRTH.  I let her take the most precious thing, in my life at that time, away from me.

Oh, but I had a health baby, you say.  FUCK YOU!  Oh, but it doesn’t matter how he got here…  Fuck you again!  Yes I had a healthy baby, Yes I came out of major abdominal surgery alive, yes everything was okay…  But I matter too!

It wasn’t my plan to have a c-section.  In no way did I want to lay on that table and be ripped from one side of my pelvis to the other.  Nor did I want to have my baby ripped from me and passed from one stranger to the next.  He looks so mad in that first picture.  He knew something wasn’t right.  He knew it wasn’t supposed to be his birthday.

When discussing future children I always became panicky and refused to acknowledge that there was a desire.  I would always tell people that I didn’t want more; that Mason would be an only child.  And I didn’t care what they thought because I always had a rebuttal.  So I was quite surprised the day I sent him off to kindergarten and was overwhelmed by the feelings I was experiencing to give birth again.  What was this? 

I became pregnant within the next year and when I found out I was immediately on a mission to do it differently.  I wasn’t going to voluntarily lie on that silver table and subject myself to the vulnerability I did with Mason’s birth.  It is in no way his fault; but it is his birth.

Searches of VBAC’s in Louisiana lead me to this wonderful website of support called the LNB (Louisiana Natural Birth).  I have to say I LOVE these women with all of my heart and soul.  They have understood some of my irrational (but somehow rational) fears and know firsthand what it’s like to go through what I did.  Until you have something like that ripped away from you; you can NEVER truly understand. 

I drown myself in information.  I read books like they were going out of style.  If someone could be overeducated on a topic; I was going to throw up birth.  I had mood swings over it.  My husband and I had heated discussions about it.  He was 100% supportive but at the same time didn’t always understand some of my requests.  I became a Natural Birth JUNKIE!  It was the decision I needed to make in order to keep me off of that silver table.  It was what I needed to do to keep me from going through what I did with our first birth.  It was what I was going to do to save myself.

April 2011 was my due date.  I never told anyone my actual due date because what I learned researching all this natural birth stuff is that due dates are just estimates.  Your babies know when they are supposed to come and they do when you least expect it.  Everyone around here is used to picking their birthdays and I wasn’t getting caught up in that game again; nor did I want baby stalkers.  So I ‘baked’ in silence.

100% natural was the way for me…. And I was damned and determined to make it happen.  We kept everything a secret.  Even the fact that I was 4cm dilated at 36.5 weeks.  And so it began.

I showed up to the hospital with just my husband and my best friend.  If I learned nothing else from my research it was that I needed no distractions.  I will refer to those as my “paper tigers”.  I kept them out of the loop for a reason.  What if this wasn’t the day?  What if I would be in labor for another 24 hours?  What if I caved and got the epidural?

I had no problems keeping it all a secret as most people didn’t understand my desire to do this my way.  Most didn’t even understand why I was refusing drugs.  They honestly didn’t understand my fear of being on that table again…  It was stronger than any epidural.  I was beyond wanting to ‘not be pregnant anymore’. 

And so he was born, April 2, 2011 at 10:56am… 100% natural, no drugs, vaginally, surrounded by people with whom I wanted to be there; and into his momma’s arms.  He healed me.  He has super powers!

Surrender...

I went to Sam's Wholesale with my mom this last Sunday.  As I was walking through the aisles picking through the thousands of "bulk" deals I stumbled upon the book section.  Of course I was drawn to the 100's of 1000's of baby books available...

I have a natural curiosity for everything breastfeeding and natural birth now.  A world I find interesting, yet at some point in my life, found strange and uninviting.  I tell people it's like being saved.  I found something new and want to shout it at the roof tops.  But that's another topic for another day. 

Today, I want to discuss a little something I discovered in one of those "parenting" books.  I thumbed through quickly as I was waiting for my mom to get out of the canned goods aisle.  I flipped to the breastfeeding section curious as to their advice to new mothers and the like.  What could another book possibly have to say that I've never heard.  Would I discover a new found "trick of the trade"?

What I found actually disturbed me!  Especially as a second time mom...  "surrender to your baby"
Um, do what?  Surrender?  Isn't that what people who are at war do?  These were my first thoughts as I was flipping through the pages.  Surrender....  What exactly does this mean?  I read further; nothing new; latch frequently, feed on-demand (good point as I am a firm believer you shouldn't feed on a clock), get good rest, accept help, SURRENDER...  there's that word again.

Straight from Wikipedia this is what Surrender means:

Surrender (military), capitulation

Surrender (religion), the relinquishment of one's own will to a higher power

Surrendering your own will to a higher power!  Wow, I've never thought of it like that.  Is my 4.5 month old a "higher power"?  Is he all knowing? 

I've never thought of breastfeeding as surrendering; or even taxing, or difficult.  Time consuming; YES!  Especially when he's in a growth spurt.  But I remind myself frequently that this stage does not last forever and soon he will be toe to toe with his brother and cousin.  He won't want anything to do with me and he'll be off to school before I know it.  I don't mind the bond.  I don't mind the down time.  I don't mind giving of myself so that my son will have the best start possible.  I am able to do this so I feel I should take the reigns and run with it.  So many women are unable to do so... 

Do they Surrender?

That's the thing about being Human Mothers; we get to change our mind!

When I had my son Mason I thought that I knew everything there was to know about having a kid.  I was a 25 year old know it all that wasn't about to 'conform' to anyone's idea of what it was to be a mother.  HA!  Looking back now there are 100 + 1 things I can think of that I did WRONG!  I listened to everyone else and did what they told me to when it came to raising him.  Yes, that's a contradiction to my previous statement about conforming to everyone else's idea.  Because if you know me at all, you know that I am far from a conformist. 
Anyway; I only breastfed until 10 weeks because I had to go back to work.  I wasn't going to pump because, well, that was too much trouble. 
He wasn't sleeping through the night by 6 months; so what do I do... spend a night in hell, AKA: CIO!  My husband and I stood by the door marking little "tick marks" on a sticky note attached to the door for each time we went in to sooth him.  I hated myself for MONTHS after this and never tried it again.  He still doesn't sleep through the night; BTW!
I tried a baby carrier once while cooking spaghetti and he HATED it!  So where did it end up?  At the bottom of his closet. 
When he became a toddler it was straight to time out and high expectations of a child who was supposed to listen when spoken to.  If you only knew this kid; yeah right!
Then the 4's and 5's came around and it was "enforcement" time.  I was so done with the fussing and the cussing that I told my husband "I don't want him to FEAR you; I want him to RESPECT you!"  We had a very heated debate that night about the difference between a child doing out of fear and doing out of respect.  I "won" that arguement that night as he agreed he would no longer expect our son to listen out of fear but do because he respected and it was expected out of him.
Around this time an old friend from college and I reunited over MySpace.  She ended up dating my brother in law and they later had a son.  I remember vividly sitting in my office corresponding through emails with her and the mention of  Attachment Parenting.  I had no idea what this was.  And so the discussion blossomed.  I looked it up and was baffled.  What was all of this "Hippie" stuff about?  When looking at the different definitions of the 4 parenting styles I found myself, at the time, to be more of an Authoritrian Parent.  DO as I SAY when I say to do it...  OR ELSE! It was how I was raised and it was how we were raising our son.
Fast Forward to the last two years....
I've realized that I've done this parenting thing wrong for quite sometime now.  Mason and his defiant self has proven that to me day in and day out.  What happens when you become a strict parent and stay on their rear ends for every little thing?  They rebel...  I have a 7 year old REBEL sleeping in his bed right now!
I became pregnant with our second son and I vowed to do it all different.  I was going to give this kid a chance his big brother didn't get.  I was gonna breastfeed him forever, co-sleep, and wear him until he asked for his feet to touch the ground.  It wasn't a matter of just waking up one morning and deciding that it was how I was going to be.  It blossomed over time.  I guess you could say I'm into all the "attachement parenting" stuff but what I say is I decided to change my mind on how we were raising our kids.