Decisions in Parenting

Parenting is a series of decisions.  Making choices that are right for the child, right for the family as a whole.  Some of these decisions are ones that can be made quickly and others take much more time.  We have to mull them around for a bit, bouncing around different scenarios in our brain until we find the one that feels right in our conscience.

Even before I had children, I knew the likelihood of my kids being strong-willed, opinionated or stubborn would be quite high.  With the genetic combination of this set of parents it would be nearly impossible to avoid any of those traits.  But my hope was that this personality attributes would come together to create teenagers, and adults at some point in time, that would be steadfast in their decisions, unfaltering to the peer pressure of others.  That when they said "no" to something, they'd stand  behind their choice.

I also knew that making decisions about parenting strong-willed, opinionated, stubborn children wouldn't come easy.  That there would be many sleepless nights spent weighing the pros and cons of decisions, trying to figure out the best path for them.  Naively I believed we wouldn't face these hard decisions until we were facing teenager years, or at least the pre-teen era.

Now I sit and face some tough decisions.  Decisions I never anticipated having to make.  Ones that I had hoped we'd never even have to think about.  By now I should know that life will throw very unexpected situations at us, keeping us on our toes at all times.

These decisions cause me to sit and question my parenting, the choices I've made up to this point.  Are we in this place now because of something we did wrong in the past?  Could I have done something different as a mom?  

I know that I need to stop doing that; I need to believe in myself and my parenting abilities.  At the end of the day, whether or not others believe it, I need to remember that I am a good parent and I am doing a good job.

I'm not at a place where I can openly talk about what's going on.  Maybe that time will be soon, maybe it won't.  But until that times comes I need to use this place as a sounding board, albeit filled with vagueness.

The Difference a Day Makes

Yesterday, I followed my gut and chose to not follow a recommendation given to me.  The recommendation didn't feel right for me; it didn't feel right for us.  Instead I went in a different direction and this new direction felt right.  I felt hopeful about the prospects it presented; I felt empowered in the situation for the first time in months.

Today my gut was telling me to yet again not follow a recommendation from this same individual.  But instead of feeling empowered and hopeful by going my own direction, I'm feeling conflicted and defeated. Is this because of the face to face confrontation involved?  The need to justify my decision in explicit detail?  Or is it something bigger?  

Part of me wonders if I'm making a pragmatic decision, or if I'm letting preconceived notions guide my thoughts today.

I wish for the clarity yesterday brought.  Doubting one's self is tough.

From Two to Three

Before Baby Boy was born, people kept asking me if I was ready for three kids.  I heard story after story about how the transition from 1 to 2 was so much more difficult than from 2 to 3.  Eight weeks into the chaos and I totally call B.S. on that.  The transition when baby #2 was born was hands down easier than what this has been.

Maybe it's because baby #2 came after all of the birthday/holiday craziness (she was the New Year's baby).  Maybe it's because we only had an older child (KT was 4) to bring baby sister home to.  Maybe it's because we've battled round after round after round of sickness in our house since the day before I had the little guy.

I don't know the reason specifically but I imagine it's a combination of all of the above, with a couple of extra factors tossed in for fun.  All I know for sure is that I feel like I'm treading water.  Barely keeping afloat and looking to cling onto anything that will help buoy me along, allowing me to rest my weary arms and legs, if only for a few minutes at a time.

I'm exhausted.  Trying to find the time and energy to keep my family fed, their clothes clean and myself showered.  Any projects I'd hope to accomplish during this time are piled in a heap on my sewing table.  My goal was to reopen the shop the beginning of January and I'm not sure where or how I'll find the time to sew stuff for customers.

Maybe after all the Christmas decorations are packed away in their boxes, the last slice of birthday cake is eaten and all the gifts have found homes within the confines of our tiny house, things will start to fall into place.  I'm hoping that's the case.

Multitasking

I knew the transition to life with 3 kids wasn't going to be without challenges.  But I didn't expect to tackle it with a nasty stomach bug running through our house.

Today, being a Mom in this household means simultaneously holding the hair and/or rubbing the back of a six year old as she pukes, keeping an almost two year old in a time-out for spitting at me and nursing an infant.

Chaos?

Without a doubt.

Boy, oh, Boy!

With other avenues of social media connecting many of us, it isn't new news...

but baby BOY made his appearance on November 2nd, weighing in at 8 pounds 3 ounces and measuring a gangly 21 inches long.  (For reference, he was almost 2" longer than his sisters when they were born and weighed in between the two.  I think he's going to get some height from his Dad, thankfully.)

I was scheduled for a c-section on Tuesday, November 6th -- about two weeks before my due date -- to ensure I didn't go into labor on my own, stressing my heart.  At my appointment on the 1st my OB was concerned that baby was getting big and my amniotic fluid levels were getting high.  Both of which were physically putting pressure on my heart/lungs.  He offered to do a c-section that very day but I declined, opting to keep an eye out for warning signs.  I woke up the next day with some shortness of breath, tightness in my chest and just an overall feeling of discomfort.  A late morning call to the OB had us heading to the hospital with bags in tow.

Biggest sister was absolutely thrilled with the news of a baby brother!  Baby sister wasn't quiet so enthused -- not sure if this was related to the raging ear infection and cold she was fighting, or just losing her position in the family as the youngest child.

Even though he came 16 days early, he was perfectly healthy and has been an absolutely easy baby (which was fantastic considering I ended up with bronchitis just after we came home from the hospital!).  We thought we got really lucky with the girls when they were newborns but he makes their early days look challenging.  Hopefully he continues with his laid back personality.

And in other great news, both sisters now give him copious amounts of snuggles and big sister love!

Starting Over

It's one of those days around here.  One where the coffee isn't strong enough, nor is my patience or will power.  Instead of having to power through it and act like the parent/adult I'd like to tell the world to take a flying leap and crawl back into bed.

Ahhhh...Tuesday...

Getting through the Transitions

At times I sit here and wonder, how in the world, the underlying reason behind the start of this blog, is turning 6 in a few more weeks.  How did I manage to blink and all of the sudden have a big girl who goes to kindergarten, rides her bike without training wheels and has a very specific opinion about what she's wearing, how her hair is done and even the accessories that go with her outfit.

We've been through some major transitions/experiences this summer -- KT's best friend moving away, deaths of close family members in both mine and C's families, starting kindergarten, my pregnancy -- and at times it feels like the household is still reeling.  Still unsure of our footing as we continue to navigate through these changes.  Each day I wake up and hope that the day ahead will be calm and happy, but steeling myself for the likelihood that there will be chaos and tears.

Making the transition into kindergarten has presented many challenges.  Sending her off to school wasn't a challenge in itself.  I looked forward to hearing her stories, seeing her make the transition into a full-fledged student and having some much needed one on one time with her little sister.  What I wasn't prepared for was the emotional turmoil it would create within that beautiful little girl.

The first week was tough on her.  Tough on me!  She'd come home from school and scream at us over everything.  The slightest agitation immediately escalated into rage.  Didn't matter if it was because I poured a glass of milk when she wanted water with lunch or her sister took a toy she wanted.  No one, no situation was exempt.  And the task of trying to get her to rest in the afternoon was another matter.  Her school schedule requires us to wake her earlier than she normally gets up, and the activity of a full morning would send her home with big purple circles under her eyes and yawns through lunch.  To me, it was apparent that she needed rest, that she needed some time to rejuvenate.  The slightest mention of a nap though would initiate tantrums of epic proportion that would leave both her and I exhausted and in tears.

I just wanted to have good days.  To hear her excitement over school -- friends made, songs sung, games played.  Instead we've muddled our way through the screaming and the tantrums, hoping the transitional time would be short.

She just finished her third week of school and it's getting better.  We're making progress but there is still much ground to be covered.  Each week I'm trying to help the transition along.  Trying to come up with ways to sidestep the tantrums and screaming.  Trying to take little steps, giving KT a little more independence and helping to foster her self-confidence while finding a balance of showing her that I still love her dearly and she's still my little girl.

Admitting This is Tough

I am so tired of the "Mommy Wars", a debate started in the late 80's over who has it easier/better -- the moms who stay at home with their children or the moms who work out of the home.  We all need to do what's best for our children, our families and OURSELVES.  There are advantages and disadvantages to both scenarios.  What works for one family might be a complete disaster for another.  What comes easy for one Mother might be really difficult for another.

Instead of bashing and belittling one another for the choices we've had to make, we should support one another in our decisions and rally together to help through the difficult days.

I posted a status update the other day, saying,

I love my kids and am grateful that I have the chance/ability to stay home with them. But today is one of those days where I'm envious of the parents who work outside of the house.

It was one of those days where I was envious of the working moms who could go to the bathroom in peace without having a small child intently inspect what you were doing while trying to assist or having to hurry through your business because you could hear them emptying stuff out of the refrigerator.  A day where I was envious of the working moms who could hold business conversations over the phone without having to lock themselves into the bedroom for 3 minutes of semi-muffled quiet or asking your banker if you could call them back because you couldn't hear them over the screams of two fighting children.  A day where I was envious of the working moms who could take their kids to daycare and then take a sick day for themselves where they could actually get some rest and try to get feeling better.  A day where I was envious of the working moms who didn't have to sit and listen to an hour of their five year old screaming how they hate you, how you're a horrible parent and how they wish they weren't part of the family all because you tried to get them to lay down for a nap.

My intent wasn't to say or insinuate that working moms have it easier.  I wasn't saying that they're lucky to be away from home all day, to have someone else tend to their kids.  I know there are aspects of my day that working moms long for.

What I was saying was that *I* was having a hard day being a stay-at-home-mom. That *I* was struggling with the blessing I've been given.  That some days I question if this is the best decision for our family, for me, for the kids; that I wonder if the girls would be better if they didn't have to deal with a short-tempered, exhausted Mom some days. 

Some days I wonder what the hell I'm doing and if it's even close to the right thing.  Those are the days that are really tough.  Especially when I am criticized for complaining, criticized for saying I'm envious of others.  I carry enough guilt for feeling like I'm failing my kids and not appreciating or savoring the chance I have to stay home; I don't need others making me feel worse for just admitting my weakness(es).

Aren't we all allowed to have bad days?  Days where we question what we're doing?  Days where a part of us, even if only a teeny-tiny part, wishes things could be different?  That things could be easier?

All I know is that being a Mom is by far the toughest job I've ever had.  If you've never had a moment in this career where you drop your head into your hands, or stand in the shower, sobbing because you're overwhelmed, exhausted or just completely unsure that you're doing the right thing and praying that you're not messing up your kids, you're luckier than I.

I didn't mean for my comment to cause such controversy.  I was just trying to let the other side know that sometimes, I wish I could be in their shoes, even if they are simultaneously wishing they could be in mine.

The Next Step

I've been thinking about shutting this down.  For a while I made it so that only invited readers could view the blog.  And then I didn't invite anyone!  Haha.

But there were a handful of people I wanted to know that I was pregnant.  Knowing that one of the best ways to get the message to them was this blog, I opened it back up and posted the last stuff about my heart.  Now I'm back on the fence about shutting it down completely.

When I started this blog 6 years ago it was an on-line journal of sorts.  A no-holds barred place to dump my feelings.  A place that only a select few were privy to; a place where people supported what I wrote. Anymore I feel like I have to be cautious about what I say here because of how it's perceived -- spending too much time online, sharing stuff too personal in a public space...

It seems like I can't win for trying.  I'm trying to decide if the backlash that can come from posts is worth the relief I get, for getting stuff off my chest.

Mixed Emotions

On one hand, I exhaled a small sigh of relief yesterday.  On the other hand, my anxiety increased ever-so-slightly.

Yesterday marked the 28-week point in my pregnancy for baby #3.  

Yes, for those of you that are scratching your head -- both due to the lack of an announcement and also general confusion due to my declaration of not having any more babies -- I am pregnant.  To put it simply this pregnancy wasn't intentional, nor in our plans, just the opposite in fact, but apparently this baby is determined to be here no matter what.

There is no way to tell if I'll have the heart problems like I did after Baby Girl was born.  Some doctors say it's not a matter of IF but WHEN, while others are saying we have a safer prognosis if monitored very carefully.  

No matter the case there are two things I do know:

1. There is very little they can do for me, if my heart does start to fail as long as I am pregnant (because technically, any DECLINE in heart function is classified as the beginning of heart failure).  The usual such as bed rest, limited activity, etc. applies but at most will only help slow down the progression.  Medication is the only feasible option to STOP -- and begin to reverse -- the damage but is only an option if I have delivered the baby.
2. The end of the pregnancy and immediately following delivery are the most dangerous times for me.  As the baby gets bigger, it's actual size and the stress of the pregnancy in general will put more stress on my heart.  Also an increase in blood volume being pumped by the heart enlarges and tires the ventricles, further contributing to the stress.

So why the mixed emotions?  At 28 weeks I'm entering the home stretch -- when baby gets big and the chances of having problems increases.  (Most cases occur in the month preceding delivery and in the couple of months postpartum.)  As hard as I try it's difficult to not think about the what-ifs and become slightly anxious.  Every time I notice the slightest bit of swelling in my extremities, experience shortness of breath or feel an erratic pattern in my heart rate I have to fight a touch of anxiety that wants to build in the back of my throat.

Fortunately for me, the medical staff I'm currently working with are monitoring me and the baby closely.  Making sure that anything abnormal is closely examined instead of being written off as "normal" pregnancy symptoms (which many beginning symptoms of post/peripartum cardiomyopathy are identical to other common ailments in pregnancy).  

And although not an easy option by any means, there's a bit of consolation knowing that baby would have a good chance of survival any point from here on out.  If my heart started to fail/decline we'd have much less risks with an emergency c-section delivery.  I certainly don't wish to have a premature baby but it would mean they could deliver and begin treating my heart instead of walking the line, trying to gauge who (i.e., me or the baby) is at the greatest risk.

To say it's been an anxiety-ridden spring/summer would be an understatement.  Not a full explanation but at least a partial one on my lack of posts around here.