A little fussy with ice on top

This morning was crazy.  Sam woke up fussy.  Oh my fussy child.  When Sam is not fully rested he fusses.  When Liam is not fully rested he gets pushy and loud.  Luckily, Liam was having a good morning.  Sam began crying about this, then that, then this again, then something new, then something irrelevant, then whatever he could think of that seemed like it was a good enough reason to put up a stink about.  Skylar was getting tired and wasn’t too keen on waiting on the sidelines while I get the boys ready for daycare.  She began to call for me quietly and it got progressively louder within about 3 minutes.  Not even enough time to change Liam’s poopy diaper and get his clothes on while he attempted to run away from me and hide.  Two crying, one on the run.  I caught up to Liam – got him dressed.  I tried coaching Sam to get dressed but he just kept saying “but Mommy...it’s just....but mommy...it’s just...”  Nothing followed.  Just repeats.  Just fussing.   He couldn’t even remember why he was upset.

I lost my cool and sent him to his room.  He cried even louder up there.  I chatted with him on his bed later and asked him to cooperate.  I thought we had turned a new page.  I was wrong. 

“I want to play games.” 

“There isn’t enough time, Hunny.  We’re late getting to Sandra’s and Skylar is tired.  We need to go now but you can play games as soon as you get back.”

“Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!  Buuuuut Mommyyyyyyyyyyyyy!”

Good Lord, here we go again! 

So I get all 3 of the crying children dressed in their winter clothes.  Sam wants to stay home and I keep saying no not today but tomorrow you can.  That doesn’t help.  He cried and cried.  But I kept moving forward.  Breathing.  Staying calm.  But...then I opened the front door to discover that those dark clouds were pouring down ice pellets.  I can’t walk the kids to daycare with Skylar in my arms when it’s pouring ice... so I turn around tell the kids we’re staying home.  Sam jumps for joy.  Liam collapses to the ground crying that we aren’t going outside. 

Sigh.

Treasure Hunt

Sam had a great pirate themed party for his 4th birthday and I thought I'd post the treasure hunt game that I made up.  I simply used Word and some image art to create some clues and taped flaps over 3 multiple choice answers.  The correct answer to the question revealed a location of the next clue.  Along with the clues he would also find a piece of a treasure map that I made.

He almost has all the pieces of the map now!

He found all his clues, answered all the quiz questions and collected all the pieces of the treasure map.  He pieced it together and found the X that marked the spot to find his hidden treasure box full of goodies!

A mild case of Pre-Partum Depression

I struggle with pre-partum depression.  I’ve had this experience with all three pregnancies.  It starts around half way through the pregnancy it seems to get progressively more intense as the weeks go on.  When I was pregnant with Sam I didn’t have a clue I was experiencing depression.  I figured it was a mix of hormones and being whiney from all the uncomfortable pregnancy symptoms.  But after he was born I felt a weight lifted from my shoulders.  A darkness removed and joyfulness again.  Things were tough taking care of a new born though.  I was breastfeeding for the first time and got cracked, bleeding nipples.  I lost way more sleep with a baby then I did when I was pregnant and I no longer had the opportunity to just rest when I wanted to. I had terrible back pain still and would experience momentary paralysis if I moved a certain way at times.  Yet, despite these discomforts and challenges I was still happier than when I was pregnant.  Life moved on and I never really thought more about it.  The pregnancy was in the past and not worth analysing.  

Then I got pregnant again with Liam.  Sure enough, just about half way through I began to feel down and out.  I was not only not enjoying being pregnant anymore but just not enjoying.  I began to feel disconnected with Sam and walked and talked like a zombie.  I went through the motions of play with him but I was barely present.  When I was around people (especially chipper people who were excited about the pregnancy and would rub my belly and ooooh and aaaah about my pregnant body) I would put on a pretty good front and smile.  People would talk about my pregnancy glow and I would say that I feel great and that I’m so excited about this baby.  I can for sure say that I have looked forward to meeting each of my children and have bonded with them all while they were inside of me.  However, the feeling of excitement is not something that I genuinely could express most days.  In my heart, I was happy and I had all sorts of positive thoughts about making a baby and growing my family.  It’s just the expression part that seemed to be lacking.  Again, it was like I was trapped in a zombie – a very good zombie actress.  

After Liam was born it was like I was reborn myself.  He came out of me like a bullet and within 30-40 minutes of him being delivered my uterus had shrunk right up, he was breast fed and asleep in my arms and I was gearing to get out of bed.  I got to my feet feeling like Wonder Woman.  Hal held Liam and I went to the bathroom and saw myself in the mirror for what seemed to be the first time in months.  I smiled and thought to myself “there you are!”  I moved my body freely and easily and quickly.  I was not a wilted, sluggish zombie anymore!  I held Liam non-stop that day and felt genuinely excited to be with him.  That’s when the thoughts started to emerge about depression.  Suddenly, I could see it more clearly.  That was not just hormones.  That was not just being uncomfortably pregnant.  I think...ya, I think that was depression.  

Now here I am again.  Pregnant and almost at the end.  It is even more evident now that pre-partum depression is a part of my pregnancy experience.  I’m kinda miserable on the inside and my awareness of it doesn’t make it much better.  I mean I have days that are better than others and sometimes I have really, really bad days.  Talk about feeling disconnected from my kids.  I have no tolerance, I yell a lot, I’m impatient and I am a zombie again.  I wish I could be alone a lot.  I cry an awful lot in privacy too.  Activities that normally make me happy don’t really bring me as much joy.  Although part of me wants to socialize, I struggle to find motivation to get out of the house and connect with people.  I force myself to do things that I know are good for me.  Even eating and showering seem to be chores.  I have these moments where I can get around and move like a human.  I have moments where my kids really do make me laugh and smile from the heart.  There are moments where I look into Hal’s eyes and don’t want to smack him.  I’m grateful for those moments.  But I must be honest, there are many moments where I want to crawl in a cave and hibernate until I’m ready to deliver and that Wonder Woman feeling returns...assuming it will like in the past.

So that's it.  That's me and pregnancy.  It's not roses and butterflies...  But it's temporary and worth it.  I have learned that pre-partum depression is just as common as post-partum depression but not talked about that much.  So I wanted to talk about it today.  I'd say my case is mild...although I have nothing to compare it too.  Yet another challenge to overcome and learn from in life as a parent.

"Minds are like parachutes. They only function when they are open. "

I feel so fortunate by all the support I have in my life.  I truly believe that I would not be the mother I am today if it weren’t for all the other moms and dads who have shared their experiences with me and supported me through all my trials and tribulations in parenthood.  This fellowship reminds me of the principles of Alcoholics Anonymous.  A part of the AA Preamble states that it is a “fellowship of men and women who share their experience, strength and hope with each other that they may solve their common problem and help others...”  All parents struggle.  But when parents are helping parents we can support each other through those common struggles.  There are far too many lessons to learn in a lifetime to do it on our own.  It's important to learn from others' mistakes, troubles, solutions, and experiences.  That’s kind of what I’m trying to do here with this blog.  All my sharing here, on Facebook, in person and so on is therapeutic for me and I hope in some way helps other parents or one-day-to-be parents in knowing that they are not alone. I’m trying to be as honest with my experiences even if that leaves me vulnerable and up for judgement.  However, I have not yet felt judged at all.  Your feedback and comments have all been so compassionate and supportive.   The personal conversations that have spawned from this blog have been stimulating and inspire me to write more, talk more and open up more.  Thank you.  I am so grateful.

It's not if you fall, it's if you get up again.

Liam and I were playing upstairs tonight.  Liam ran from room to room exploring and making a mess.  He decided it was time to go downstairs so I got in front of him and sat on the top step.  I reached out my arms to scoop him up and like butter he slipped right through and went down the stairs on an imaginary bobsled.  He rolled from front to back and landed on the floor sprawled out and crying.  I almost fell down the stairs just trying to get to him as quickly as I could.  I scooped him right up and held him close.  I had his pacifier in hand which gave him instant comfort and he stopped crying immediately.  He rested his head on my shoulder and held on tight.  This was by far the scariest thing that has happened to him in his one year existence.  I examined his body and waited for the swelling to happen.  Sure enough his right cheek became red as a cherry and his left brow as well.  A little floor burn on his back but everything else seemed ok.  After some cuddles with Daddy I brought him to his room to get him ready for bed.  I ran my hands up and down his limbs and he just giggled.  He drank his bottle and smiled at me as usual while I rocked him.  He handed me the bottle saying “da” and then yet again curled into my neck as I padded his back.  “I’m sorry...I’m sorry” I kept whispering into his ear.  He didn’t seem to care.  He even played in bed for awhile making his happy baby sounds over the monitor.  Now he’s peacefully sleeping.

But I am not at peace.  I’m riddled with guilt.  I’m embarrassed and mortified.  I keep playing it out in my head.  What happened?  It was just a couple seconds.  Everything went blurry.  I see him falling with the panicked look on his face.  Was I not paying close enough attention?  Doing too many things at once?  Being sloppy with my safety precautions?  His body is bruised.  What will it look like by morning?  I’ll have that as a clear reminder of this terrible accident tomorrow and for days to come.  I want to cry but tears won’t come.  I’m in shock.  I down play it briefly so Hal doesn’t worry.  But inside I’m freaking out.  I keep thinking I shouldn’t have picked him up so quickly.  I could have caused so much more harm if he had been seriously injured.  That was a stupid move even though it was instinctual.  I know accidents happen.  It’s not the first time one of my kids has hurt themselves.  This was the most terrifying accident though. 

The worst is over in the physical sense but my mind will be traumatized by the aftermath thoughts.  What if....?  I can’t type those thoughts now.  Those thoughts are too painful.  Flashbacks of my initial fears when I first became pregnant with Sam are flooding back.  I went to counselling then to help process these intense fears that came about when I realized that I would be bringing another human being into this scary world of ours.  I knew then that I would be a great mom.  The best I could be at least.  But even great moms can't protect a child from every accident, disaster, and harmful thing of this world.  There is so much out of my control.  I know too much of the traumatic events that have crippled the men I work with; the experiences that were out of their control.  I have seen the destructive ways that they have coped with their overwhelming emotions and painful memories.  I have seen many die from their pain.  Oh great, now their faces are flooding my thoughts...  That’s a lot to handle.  My insides are vibrating.  I’m taking a break.

* * *

Ok, feeling better.  Deep breaths.  Cuddles, stories and tower building with Sam.  Long gazes at sleeping Liam and finally a prepared bowl of ice cream.   Compassionate self talk...here goes. 

Amanda, you’re a good mom.  Liam had an accident.  It’s not your fault.  He’s resilient.  You helped make him that way.  That makes him different then the men you work with.  You can’t protect your children all the time.  Sometimes bad things happen but we can get through anything as a family.  You are a big part of that foundation.  You are solid and dependable.  You give your kids strength, comfort and unconditional love.  Those are the tools they need to get through this tough world.  It won’t be Liam’s last fall.  There will be many more that will leave more than just bruises on his cheek.  Perhaps, his heart will be broken one day.  He will feel painful things.  But he will be as resilient (if not more) then as he is now.  Your love is healing – both for him and yourself.  

Now to eat my ice cream, read this over about 10 times and I’m then off to bed.  Tomorrow is a new day.

We're having a girl!

We just found out we are having a girl!  We are so excited.  Like many parents, I went into this ultrasound appointment thinking I will be happy with whatever I find out and this was honestly the full truth.  That being said, I was happiEST when I heard those words “it’s a girl” and I don’t feel guilty saying it.  My heart jumped with joy.  As a woman, I just have these visions of raising another strong, empowered, beautiful woman.  I think about all of these specific female experiences, thoughts and needs that I had as a girl growing up and I get excited just thinking about using that experience to guide my own little girl through similar chapters of her life.  As thrilled as I am, I am also terrified because I know what I know about growing up as a girl.  This morning I was in the basement with the kids and discovered a box full of my old diaries.  I stopped everything I was doing and just began to read.  I was 10 years old when I first began journaling and I’m amazed at the kind of thoughts I wrote down.  Insightful reflections, naive assumptions, funny developmental questions; and it made me think about my little baby girl.  She too will have her first period, first boyfriend, first kiss, first FRENCH kiss, first breakup and so on.  Her boobs will grow and she’ll want to shave her legs and put makeup on.  We’ll have arguments about her sassiness and her outfits. 

Oddly, I know that my boys are going to have many firsts as well and Hal and I have talked about those many times.  We wonder how we will react to them and what we’ll say/do.  But my thoughts are different now that I know I’m having a girl.  I suppose because I can really relate more.  I know my own personal experiences and thoughts as a girl and feel I’ll be able to connect more with those parenting moments while she hits similar milestones.  I’m excited and nervous.

Putting gender aside, I wonder what her personality will be like.  I also wonder how being the third child will influence her character development.  How lucky is she to have these two older brothers looking out for her...and how unlucky she will be to have these two older brothers always taunting her.  Sam is so sensitive and Liam is a tease.  What will she be?