After a flurry of posts in the first three weeks of July, the blog has been pretty quite for the last week. The thing is, when you embark on a grand adventure that involves crossing state lines with three small children, there just doesn't seem to be much time for blogging. The good news is, if you survive such an adventure, there are plenty of stories to tell upon returning home which is exactly what we managed to do yesterday morning.
If you've seen the photos on Facebook, you already know that we took a trip to visit my family in South Dakota. You'll also know already that the kids had a blast playing at various parks and the hotel pool and had a great time just being their normal balls-of-energy-and-cute-rolled-into-one selves with everyone we saw along the way. The overall consensus after we got back to Hastings? Our first vacation as a family of five was a HUGE success, but let's break it down in Maiasaura (the good, the mother, the lizard) pieces.
Since you already know that the trip was an overall Win, let's start with the trip's Lizard Story. Thankfully it did not involve any real lizards (or creatures of any sort). It involved, of course, the unexpected. Ben and I planned this excursion as carefully as we could knowing full well that traveling with a 4-yr-old, and 1 1/2-yr-old, and a 3-wk-old would pretty much leave everything out of our control, but hey, it's what we do. And thanks to my awesome packing skills and our basic acceptance of our early risers, we were able to break our travel portions into 4 mornings of driving for about 4-4 1/2 hours each, including time for a nursing stop; this got us to my parents' and then my grandpa's and then back again. I did all of the driving because I did not want to deal with the gymnastics/yoga required for the job of Person Stuck in Passenger Seat, Responsible for Handing ALL Snacks and Books to Children (Including and Mostly Meaning the Shrieking Toddler Who Keeps Dropping EVERYTHING). Seriously. The children were remarkable travelers overall, but I heard Raegan shriek the words, "BOOK!" and "SNACK!" and "CUP" at numbers and volumes I'd rather soon forget. But as the driver, at least all I had to do was listen to it...
Shrieking aside, it was our second morning of travel (on a day that started at 4:40 a.m., which is ungodly early, even for my kids) that gave us our low point of the whole trip. Because of the extremely early start time, we were headed down the road shortly after 6:00 and at our first pit stop, a Cabela's in Mitchell, SD, before the store even opened! Ben took the older kids and I stayed with Lincoln in the van to nurse. Even though I was exhausted, I was proud of us and thinking we were pretty awesome because we were doing this and we weren't even freaking out and we were going to get to Pierre so early and all would be well!!
Flash forward about 30 minutes, past the nursing and diaper changes and bathroom stops and Cabela's purchase of a new hoodie for Mama (it was unseasonably cool during our stay!), and we were all back in the van, ready to go. Except the van was not because our battery was dead. Now, in high school, I had an album by the band Live and it included a song called "Shit Town". Long story short, because folks from Yankton aren't real fond of Mitchell, my friends and I took to calling Mitchell "Shit Town". Guess what lyrics jumped into my head the minute I realized the van was not going to turn over and that my parents (who were also headed to Pierre that day) were still at the farm, too far away to be of any immediate help to us?!
But then Mitchell redeemed itself because a nice man from Cabela's came out to try to jump our van with their little box thingy and when that didn't work, he retrieved his own vehicle to do the trick instead which thankfully did work. And all together, the whole hiccup really only took about 35 minutes which was unfortunate for LT's nursing schedule and RL's napping schedule, but ultimately was not the end of the world.
As for the Mother Story of the trip, I'll go with a Kids Say the Darndest Things shorty because part of being a mother, I've learned, is being mortified by what can come out of your child's mouth at any given moment. On our first night away we were spending time at my parent's house, Harrison and Raegan were playing and I think maybe we were trying to get them to start getting ready for bed. My memory of the lead in is foggy because the actual words were so distracting and memory-burning. Totally excited, HD ran for the stairs, shouting "C'mon, Everybody! Let's all get naked!!" And the way he said it and the way my parents both raised their eyebrows as they tried really hard not to laugh made it all seem like he was repeating something he'd heard often. I assure you, it is NOT!
The Good Story from Summer SoDak Trip 2013 came from how our children slept like rock stars in the hotel. Actually, they were the opposite of rock stars in that they actually slept and didn't tear the room apart, but that is beside the point. Even Lincoln, who nursed like a maniac both evenings, went for 7+ hours of straight through sleep both nights we stayed in Pierre. Unbelievable and oh-so-very nice. Honestly, if it meant I'd get that much sleep every night, I probably wouldn't mind if most of my evenings were spent cluster feeding him!
Of course the other Good that came from the trip was seeing family. We got to introduce Lincoln to some very special family members over the course of the weekend, and all of us got to help my grandpa (and namesake) celebrate his 85th birthday. Raegan started saying the words "Grandpa" and "Grandma" by the end of the trip and Harrison got some extended birthday love and presents which is always fun. Thanks to helping hands with all three kids, Ben and I did not run ourselves totally ragged, and got to have some time in the evenings having adult conversations. Like I said, HUGE success!
Success aside, it will probably be some time before we take another grand adventure such as this. The van, I think, is content to be a snack and book free zone again and even though we certainly conquered this road trip, we're not going to get overly-confident or cocky and suddenly start zig-zagging cross country in an RV. No, sir. Homebodies we shall be - myself, my hubby, and our babies, three.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Behind the Scenes
So often in these days of social media, people complain of sugar coating and highlight reels when it comes to what folks are willing to post and share online. It's easy to beat yourself up if you look at all the picture perfect moments of others because, let's be honest, life is far from perfect. In the spirit of reality, let me peel back the filter and show you the picture I included in Harrison's fourth birthday party album on Facebook:
That's right: Raegan is a mini-mama with hands on her hips, I am clearly less than thrilled with the situation, (the cookie looks delicious), and the birthday boy is face down on the floor, crying. That, my friends, was our reality smack dab in the middle of HD's party this morning.
So why the long faces? Well, I'm not entirely sure, but it could be my fault. Even though I was awake in bed for well over an hour after nursing Lincoln last night, thinking about today, I forgot my one main job: bring candles and a lighter to adorn Harrison's giant cookie at his party. Perhaps the lack of sleep is to blame. I woke up more tired and with less time to rest this morning than I've had since Lincoln was born and clearly my frazzled state didn't help matters. Or perhaps it has just been a wild and crazy couple of weeks with all the commotion (new brother, visitors, day camps, playdates, etc.), and having so much attention as we tried to get a picture so we could sing "Happy Birthday" (sans candles) got to an already spent Harrison. I really don't know. But somehow, in less time than perhaps I even realized, we got to this:
I'll also take the words of my dear friend D who assured me that in the grand scheme of things, Harrison won't remember the fact that I forgot his candles at his fourth birthday party. Well, actually, he might because I swear he has the memory of an elephant, but she is right that it won't be the detail that defines the day for him or our relationship as child/parent. I'm pretty certain he knows how much I adore him even if I did forget the flipping green candles. And besides, the beauty of an Eileen's cookie is that they really are so big, you sometimes have enough leftovers to get a second chance:
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Life as Five
Somehow it has already been two whole weeks since Lincoln arrived on the scene and turned us into a family of five. In recent days I've heard both Ben and I myself tell friends that it feels like we've always had three kids, which I guess is a sign that life, in general, is pretty good and things are going well. And it is - they are.
Lincoln's nursing like a champ (five ounces above birth weight already!) and sleeping pretty well, too (3-4 hours at night, most nights). And because Ben and I are both still home, we're dividing and conquering as best we can even though our man-to-man parenting moments only come now if some little one is gone to an activity or napping.
Because of all the dividing and conquering, though, I feel like the last two weeks have been a bit of a blur. Somedays I feel like I've hardly seen Harrison or held Raegan and then I get all overloaded and weepy on postnatal hormones which is fun. And as much as I'm trying to make time in each day for each of my kids, I'm also trying to take care of myself which means not always getting up with them in the morning or not running around the backyard with them in the afternoon. I mean, seriously. Mama's gotta rest! I don't know why I expected to be feeling better by now, but I am still in the exhausted newborn fog. I guess I thought life would be quiet in the weeks after Lincoln's birth but really?! We have three small children (and they have lots of noisy toys). Life is far from quiet! So I'm tired, and still emotional to the extremes, both high (fit to burst with pride and love for my family!) and low (pulling my hair out because no one ever listens!). But I think at two weeks as a family of five, this is probably pretty normal.
I must also take into consideration the fact that I was full of crap when I said I could let all the house stuff go after Baby came. You know, not worry about the laundry or the dishes, etc. or leave it up to someone else. Well, Ben's busy chasing the older two and I'm busy nursing the newest one and we're both caught up in trying to get through the I-think-our-white-board-exploded list of "things" going on in our world each day, so unless House Elves really exist and someone can hook me up (I promise, I'll give them socks and let them come and go as they please), the laundry and the dishes still exist. And since no one else is doing them, they remain my responsibility. Trust me, this is no soapbox. If you could see my living room right now, you would not exactly equate the word "clean" with my house, but I am tending to the basics because that's what needs to be done. Much as I might like to, I can't nap all day or sit 24/7 in the rocker with Lincoln in my arms; he's vital to this family but so is everyone else. Their laundry and their dishes and all the other little needs matter. My attention to their care, and my own, matters, and slowly, as we wade through this transition, we are learning what it is like to be five Welschies strong. It takes all of us.
Take this morning, when LT wanted to nurse just after 6 and RL was waking up at the same time (she slept until 7 on Monday; every day since has been 6. Boo!), I had Ben get both older kids and bring them into our room while I sat in the corner rocking chair with Lincoln. Ben and HD read together while RL sat on our bed with a board book on her lap, flipping pages. When Lincoln finished nursing, I handed him off to Ben and all five of us cozied up on the bed to read and sing "Snuggle Puppy" by Sandra Boynton (with Ben's arms blocking the baby from being smothered in love from Big Brother and Big Sister, of course). It was perfect, even if it lasted for just a few minutes.
Now I have those few minutes stored away in my memory so I can return to them when I start to lose my cool because someone's yogurt goes flying across the table, or because three musical toys are playing at once, or because I'm so, so tired and there's no time during the day to catch a nap. Because those minutes warm my heart. They also tell me that in two weeks we've made some big strides in figuring out life as five, and even through the mess and white board chaos, we're definitely doing something right.
Lincoln's nursing like a champ (five ounces above birth weight already!) and sleeping pretty well, too (3-4 hours at night, most nights). And because Ben and I are both still home, we're dividing and conquering as best we can even though our man-to-man parenting moments only come now if some little one is gone to an activity or napping.
Because of all the dividing and conquering, though, I feel like the last two weeks have been a bit of a blur. Somedays I feel like I've hardly seen Harrison or held Raegan and then I get all overloaded and weepy on postnatal hormones which is fun. And as much as I'm trying to make time in each day for each of my kids, I'm also trying to take care of myself which means not always getting up with them in the morning or not running around the backyard with them in the afternoon. I mean, seriously. Mama's gotta rest! I don't know why I expected to be feeling better by now, but I am still in the exhausted newborn fog. I guess I thought life would be quiet in the weeks after Lincoln's birth but really?! We have three small children (and they have lots of noisy toys). Life is far from quiet! So I'm tired, and still emotional to the extremes, both high (fit to burst with pride and love for my family!) and low (pulling my hair out because no one ever listens!). But I think at two weeks as a family of five, this is probably pretty normal.
I must also take into consideration the fact that I was full of crap when I said I could let all the house stuff go after Baby came. You know, not worry about the laundry or the dishes, etc. or leave it up to someone else. Well, Ben's busy chasing the older two and I'm busy nursing the newest one and we're both caught up in trying to get through the I-think-our-white-board-exploded list of "things" going on in our world each day, so unless House Elves really exist and someone can hook me up (I promise, I'll give them socks and let them come and go as they please), the laundry and the dishes still exist. And since no one else is doing them, they remain my responsibility. Trust me, this is no soapbox. If you could see my living room right now, you would not exactly equate the word "clean" with my house, but I am tending to the basics because that's what needs to be done. Much as I might like to, I can't nap all day or sit 24/7 in the rocker with Lincoln in my arms; he's vital to this family but so is everyone else. Their laundry and their dishes and all the other little needs matter. My attention to their care, and my own, matters, and slowly, as we wade through this transition, we are learning what it is like to be five Welschies strong. It takes all of us.
Take this morning, when LT wanted to nurse just after 6 and RL was waking up at the same time (she slept until 7 on Monday; every day since has been 6. Boo!), I had Ben get both older kids and bring them into our room while I sat in the corner rocking chair with Lincoln. Ben and HD read together while RL sat on our bed with a board book on her lap, flipping pages. When Lincoln finished nursing, I handed him off to Ben and all five of us cozied up on the bed to read and sing "Snuggle Puppy" by Sandra Boynton (with Ben's arms blocking the baby from being smothered in love from Big Brother and Big Sister, of course). It was perfect, even if it lasted for just a few minutes.
Now I have those few minutes stored away in my memory so I can return to them when I start to lose my cool because someone's yogurt goes flying across the table, or because three musical toys are playing at once, or because I'm so, so tired and there's no time during the day to catch a nap. Because those minutes warm my heart. They also tell me that in two weeks we've made some big strides in figuring out life as five, and even through the mess and white board chaos, we're definitely doing something right.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Sweet Shorties
A random collection of observations, quotes, photos and mini-stories:
1) Raegan's Cuddle Bear, one of her two sleep friends, made his way downstairs the other day and she decided that CB had to join LT for tummy time. When we later tried to hand the bear back to her, she got very serious, shook her head while saying "No!" and pushed it back to Lincoln. It has yet to return to her bed!
2) For the love of Pete. I thought Link (Linc? - seriously, someone tell me what to do w/ this) was a questionable nickname. But now Harrison has taken to calling the baby "Linky" in this very high pitched way and wow, I am not a fan. Please! Do not encourage this nickname! I will take back my reservations about the previous one (even if I don't know how to spell it) if we can make this one go away!!!
3) I love having babies in Hastings. I mean love, love, love it. I have had three wonderful experiences at Mary Lanning both during delivery (OK, pufferfish still takes the cake on "Are you kidding me?!" but I'm over it. Maybe.) and after. I really, really like my OB and I've always had fabulous nurses all around to take care of me and each new babe. I think they like me, too, because the last two times (after LT and RL), the nurse who accompanied us to the vehicle hugged me and said, "See you next time!" :) Anyway, I've always wanted to do something to thank them for being, well, them, and after three beautiful babies born there, I finally made a Thank You gift for the nurses' station. We took it up a week after coming home from Lincoln's birth - a basket full of goodies for the general station and an extra little gift/card for my two favorites from labor and post-care with Lincoln. They all totally deserve some love for all the love they give and help bring into this world.
4) I bow down to the superiority of my husband's diapering skills. Yep. He's kicking my butt. Friday, when I did 4 or 5 of Lincoln's diapers in a row, I got peed on 4 or 5 times in a row after the fact. Well, leaked on, but same difference when it requires a full wardrobe change for the baby and a new shirt for me every single time. Ben does the diapers and we don't have those issues. I guess this means he's not getting fired from that job any time soon!
*Update: since first writing this, one of Ben's diapering jobs leaked & two of mine did not! I'm still not firing him.
5) Parenting Fail: it took us a week to let the older two children hold Lincoln. Whoops. I don't even know how that happened except that we got home and every day was sort of a whirlwind of survival and visits and activities for HD & RL and nursing and naps and yeah. We just didn't get around to it until Lincoln was a whole week old. Harrison's reaction when we asked if he'd like to hold Lincoln on the Boppy on the couch? "Finally!!!" Apparently the umpteen kisses to the top of the head and waves of hello to the sleepy babe in the swing that he and Raegan had been doing just weren't cutting it. He really was pumped to hold his baby brother and Sister loved it, too.
6) Newborns get the hiccups. I know this. In the past, a hiccuping newborn has never bothered me. But there's something about little Lincoln's chest when he hiccups that freaks out his mama. It looks SO violent when his diaphragm sucks in that I now cringe whenever he starts up a round of hiccups. Did I not see my other two naked when they had them or something? Why is this suddenly so disturbing?!
7) Harrison has decided that we must change Lincoln's name to Exeter because the baby needs to be named after a town (Harrison and "Ragan" Nebraska both exist). Exeter is a tiny town on Highway 6 that we drive through on the way to Grandpa & Grandma Welsch's house. When he first said this I laughed at his town of choice and then thought to myself, Ooooh. Poor LT. No town. Then my obviously less tired husband chimed in and said, "Hmmm...Lincoln in Nebraska. I think we're covered for having a town to go with the name." Face Palm, my friends. Total Face Palm. At least I didn't say it out loud!
8) Lincoln has the most adorable and most unique extra wrinkle of cartilage in his tiny and precious little ears. I have no idea where this comes from but they are totally matched and totally wonderful. Relatives, don't be surprised if you find me scoping out your ears in my attempts to discover where this originates.
1) Raegan's Cuddle Bear, one of her two sleep friends, made his way downstairs the other day and she decided that CB had to join LT for tummy time. When we later tried to hand the bear back to her, she got very serious, shook her head while saying "No!" and pushed it back to Lincoln. It has yet to return to her bed!
3) I love having babies in Hastings. I mean love, love, love it. I have had three wonderful experiences at Mary Lanning both during delivery (OK, pufferfish still takes the cake on "Are you kidding me?!" but I'm over it. Maybe.) and after. I really, really like my OB and I've always had fabulous nurses all around to take care of me and each new babe. I think they like me, too, because the last two times (after LT and RL), the nurse who accompanied us to the vehicle hugged me and said, "See you next time!" :) Anyway, I've always wanted to do something to thank them for being, well, them, and after three beautiful babies born there, I finally made a Thank You gift for the nurses' station. We took it up a week after coming home from Lincoln's birth - a basket full of goodies for the general station and an extra little gift/card for my two favorites from labor and post-care with Lincoln. They all totally deserve some love for all the love they give and help bring into this world.
*Update: since first writing this, one of Ben's diapering jobs leaked & two of mine did not! I'm still not firing him.
5) Parenting Fail: it took us a week to let the older two children hold Lincoln. Whoops. I don't even know how that happened except that we got home and every day was sort of a whirlwind of survival and visits and activities for HD & RL and nursing and naps and yeah. We just didn't get around to it until Lincoln was a whole week old. Harrison's reaction when we asked if he'd like to hold Lincoln on the Boppy on the couch? "Finally!!!" Apparently the umpteen kisses to the top of the head and waves of hello to the sleepy babe in the swing that he and Raegan had been doing just weren't cutting it. He really was pumped to hold his baby brother and Sister loved it, too.
7) Harrison has decided that we must change Lincoln's name to Exeter because the baby needs to be named after a town (Harrison and "Ragan" Nebraska both exist). Exeter is a tiny town on Highway 6 that we drive through on the way to Grandpa & Grandma Welsch's house. When he first said this I laughed at his town of choice and then thought to myself, Ooooh. Poor LT. No town. Then my obviously less tired husband chimed in and said, "Hmmm...Lincoln in Nebraska. I think we're covered for having a town to go with the name." Face Palm, my friends. Total Face Palm. At least I didn't say it out loud!
8) Lincoln has the most adorable and most unique extra wrinkle of cartilage in his tiny and precious little ears. I have no idea where this comes from but they are totally matched and totally wonderful. Relatives, don't be surprised if you find me scoping out your ears in my attempts to discover where this originates.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Lincoln Thomas
In high school my friends and I watched a lot of TLC's A Dating Story and A Wedding Story episodes, especially during our senior year open campus lunch. What I could never get into, though, was A Baby Story; I could not handle watching the cameras follow a couple to the hospital to go through the whole birth process with them. I mention this only because now, as a grown mama, sharing birth stories is one of my favorite things to do. I've found that doing so is an instant way to bond with another mama, even one you just met. I love to hear the experiences of my friends and I love to share the stories of my babies' arrivals, which is what I'm doing here for Mr. Lincoln...
For someone who happens to be very, very theme-oriented, it did not occur to me until the evening of July 3rd that it would be pretty darn awesome if we had our next Presidentially named baby on July 4th. Chalk it up to mama brain or something, but it wasn't until I had semi-real contractions for three hours that night that I realized, fireworks angst aside, I would really like to have a Fourth of July baby. But then we went to bed and the contractions stopped, so I knew if an Independence Baby was coming, it wouldn't be in the wee early hours of the day. I had hope the next morning when I woke up that it could still happen, but then that had been my mindset pretty much every day starting from 36 1/2 weeks. You might think I'm crazy for having such expectations, but my first two babies came under such different circumstances (one out of the blue, one with several false starts) and at such different points in their gestation (one twelve days early, one five days late) that I really had no frame of reference for what No.3 might do. So why not the 4th, eh?
After a morning nap (for me, not Raeagn) and some festive cookies (boo for Elieen's being closed that day), Ben and the kids and I got ready to meet up with my MOPS group at 11:00 for the YWCA Kiddie Parade around Fisher Fountain that is just a handful of blocks from our house. We got on our red, white, and blue, loaded HD & RL in the sit-and-stand stroller, and took off. It was hot but not unbearable as we walked and part of me was hoping/thinking that maybe the exercise would get the previous night's contractions going again. And even though it took all through decorating, lining up for the route, and standing in the now hot sun to work, just as we started "marching", I had one heck of a contraction. One that felt more real than anything else thus far and caused me to comment to a friend that "Ooo! That one hurt!" But again, that was it.
We walked the parade route one and a half times and then walked straight home to get a very sleepy Raegan fed and down for a snooze. HD & I ate lunch together and just after 12:30 we plopped down on couches in the living room to chill for a bit. That's when I felt another contraction. It hurt enough to have me to tell Ben he might want to start timing them to see what was happening, so he started a list. The first hour was every 20 minutes. The second was every 15. And from there things got crazy. They went from 10 to 8 to 5 to 7 to 4 to 7 and all over the place, but they all hurt and so part of me started to think we might be in business. We started making calls to our parents saying they might want to think about heading this way and at 3:00 I hopped in the shower. By then I was pretty sure we were going to the hospital sooner than later and I did not want to go into labor a sweaty mess from the parade earlier (as if labor itself isn't a sweaty marathon of mess!).
Even though things were progressing quickly and the pain was pretty intense, I stayed fairly calm until about 3:30. At that point Ben's mom still hadn't left for her hour and a half drive to get here to be with the kids and my parents were still at their farm, too, over three and a half hours away, and I didn't think we had that much time before we need to go. What with the holiday and all, we were also having a hard time reaching any of our friends who had offered to be our back up should we need to hurry up and get to the hospital. Honestly, by 4:00, I was beginning to think that the kid might just fall out in our kitchen and we still didn't have a game plan of what to do with Harrison and Raegan! To add to the chaos, my little mimic, Raegan, started copying my "Oooohs" and deep exhalations that I had to use to get through the contractions, and while I knew she wasn't actually mocking me, it became pretty clear to me that I did NOT want to have the baby at our house!
Well, thank goodness for good neighbors! Our neighbors to the north were spending the day at home and they were more than happy to have the kids come over to hang out and have hot dogs with them, so that's what we did. We ditched the kids next door until Grandma Deb could get there to put them to bed and we hightailed the whopping five or six blocks that it takes to get to the hospital, checking in just after 4:30 when my contractions were about four or five minutes apart.
From there it took about an hour to get up to the room, checked, and through all of the questions, set up, etc. I was so relieved when the nurse said I was at 5 cm and used the words "The Real Deal" because all along I had been worried that they'd send me home like they did with Raegan the first time we went in. In fact, I was so relieved that my contractions slowed down again to 8-10 minutes; I think my body was just happy to know I wasn't going to have to deliver unassisted at home! In hindsight, I'm glad I had a little rest that hour because from there things got very intense very quickly.
Because of the holiday, my regular OB was not available. As in, out of town, no way of making it back in time for one of my uber fast deliveries, not available. That freaked me out a bit because she's always been so good about supporting my all natural approach, but then the on-call doc agreed to let me skip the IV and I thought, OK. This is going to be OK. Full Disclosure: I think a primary reason I go the natural route is because I absolutely hate the idea of having an IV stuck in my hand or an epidural stuck in my back. I would rather push a baby out and feel it than deal with those needles!
So anyway, after checking in and getting situated, they sent me walking the halls to get those contractions going again. At first the walking was easy but after a few laps, I had to slow way down and stop to just breathe through them. Each time I put one hand on the bottom of my belly and one on the wall and thought, Alright, one step closer to Baby. After 20 minutes of this, the nurse called to me that the doctor was there and I thought, Great! He's going to check me and see how I'm progressing. But before I could get another thought in or word out, she told me, "He's going to break your water."
Huh?! Just like that? I know I've had stubborn water breaking issues in the past, but without even checking me or asking me?!
Part of my heart sank, because I was worried that this intervention, small as it may be in the minds of some but the biggest I've ever had, might lead to other complications or interventions or whatever. I just didn't know what to think. And while I'm sure I could have protested or flat out said, "No", the other part of my heart really wanted to meet this baby and know that everything was in fact OK. So I went back to the labor and delivery room to have the on-call doctor check me (7 cm) and break my water.
That all happened at 6:00. In the 40 minutes following, I went from 7 to just under 10 and I wanted to push. Real bad. The doc gave me the go-ahead and with my amazing husband on one side and an amazing labor and delivery nurse (I always love my L&D nurses!) on the other, I got after it. Four minutes later, at 6:45, Lincoln Thomas Welsch was born. Yes, four minutes. I was in so much pain (worse than I remembered with the others) and so desperate to get that baby out, I just kept pushing and pushing, pausing maybe twice to catch my breath.
In no way do I mean to diminish Lincoln's arrival (I mean, look at him - he's perfect!) or my strengths as a mama, but it wasn't exactly my best - what? performance?? - in the delivery room. The word that comes to mind again and again is intense. That last hour was so intense on various levels that I think I rushed things a bit which might also explain why it was so very painful. I wasn't exactly calm and connecting my breath to my pushes. But so be it. It was hard but it was quick and when it was all said and done, I ended up with the most amazing little baby boy on my chest. I don't think he, or anyone else for that matter, is going to hold my rushing to meet him against me.
So, in seven hours from start to finish on the good old Fourth of July, we officially became a family of five. Talk about fireworks!
For someone who happens to be very, very theme-oriented, it did not occur to me until the evening of July 3rd that it would be pretty darn awesome if we had our next Presidentially named baby on July 4th. Chalk it up to mama brain or something, but it wasn't until I had semi-real contractions for three hours that night that I realized, fireworks angst aside, I would really like to have a Fourth of July baby. But then we went to bed and the contractions stopped, so I knew if an Independence Baby was coming, it wouldn't be in the wee early hours of the day. I had hope the next morning when I woke up that it could still happen, but then that had been my mindset pretty much every day starting from 36 1/2 weeks. You might think I'm crazy for having such expectations, but my first two babies came under such different circumstances (one out of the blue, one with several false starts) and at such different points in their gestation (one twelve days early, one five days late) that I really had no frame of reference for what No.3 might do. So why not the 4th, eh?
After a morning nap (for me, not Raeagn) and some festive cookies (boo for Elieen's being closed that day), Ben and the kids and I got ready to meet up with my MOPS group at 11:00 for the YWCA Kiddie Parade around Fisher Fountain that is just a handful of blocks from our house. We got on our red, white, and blue, loaded HD & RL in the sit-and-stand stroller, and took off. It was hot but not unbearable as we walked and part of me was hoping/thinking that maybe the exercise would get the previous night's contractions going again. And even though it took all through decorating, lining up for the route, and standing in the now hot sun to work, just as we started "marching", I had one heck of a contraction. One that felt more real than anything else thus far and caused me to comment to a friend that "Ooo! That one hurt!" But again, that was it.
We walked the parade route one and a half times and then walked straight home to get a very sleepy Raegan fed and down for a snooze. HD & I ate lunch together and just after 12:30 we plopped down on couches in the living room to chill for a bit. That's when I felt another contraction. It hurt enough to have me to tell Ben he might want to start timing them to see what was happening, so he started a list. The first hour was every 20 minutes. The second was every 15. And from there things got crazy. They went from 10 to 8 to 5 to 7 to 4 to 7 and all over the place, but they all hurt and so part of me started to think we might be in business. We started making calls to our parents saying they might want to think about heading this way and at 3:00 I hopped in the shower. By then I was pretty sure we were going to the hospital sooner than later and I did not want to go into labor a sweaty mess from the parade earlier (as if labor itself isn't a sweaty marathon of mess!).
Even though things were progressing quickly and the pain was pretty intense, I stayed fairly calm until about 3:30. At that point Ben's mom still hadn't left for her hour and a half drive to get here to be with the kids and my parents were still at their farm, too, over three and a half hours away, and I didn't think we had that much time before we need to go. What with the holiday and all, we were also having a hard time reaching any of our friends who had offered to be our back up should we need to hurry up and get to the hospital. Honestly, by 4:00, I was beginning to think that the kid might just fall out in our kitchen and we still didn't have a game plan of what to do with Harrison and Raegan! To add to the chaos, my little mimic, Raegan, started copying my "Oooohs" and deep exhalations that I had to use to get through the contractions, and while I knew she wasn't actually mocking me, it became pretty clear to me that I did NOT want to have the baby at our house!
Well, thank goodness for good neighbors! Our neighbors to the north were spending the day at home and they were more than happy to have the kids come over to hang out and have hot dogs with them, so that's what we did. We ditched the kids next door until Grandma Deb could get there to put them to bed and we hightailed the whopping five or six blocks that it takes to get to the hospital, checking in just after 4:30 when my contractions were about four or five minutes apart.
From there it took about an hour to get up to the room, checked, and through all of the questions, set up, etc. I was so relieved when the nurse said I was at 5 cm and used the words "The Real Deal" because all along I had been worried that they'd send me home like they did with Raegan the first time we went in. In fact, I was so relieved that my contractions slowed down again to 8-10 minutes; I think my body was just happy to know I wasn't going to have to deliver unassisted at home! In hindsight, I'm glad I had a little rest that hour because from there things got very intense very quickly.
Because of the holiday, my regular OB was not available. As in, out of town, no way of making it back in time for one of my uber fast deliveries, not available. That freaked me out a bit because she's always been so good about supporting my all natural approach, but then the on-call doc agreed to let me skip the IV and I thought, OK. This is going to be OK. Full Disclosure: I think a primary reason I go the natural route is because I absolutely hate the idea of having an IV stuck in my hand or an epidural stuck in my back. I would rather push a baby out and feel it than deal with those needles!
So anyway, after checking in and getting situated, they sent me walking the halls to get those contractions going again. At first the walking was easy but after a few laps, I had to slow way down and stop to just breathe through them. Each time I put one hand on the bottom of my belly and one on the wall and thought, Alright, one step closer to Baby. After 20 minutes of this, the nurse called to me that the doctor was there and I thought, Great! He's going to check me and see how I'm progressing. But before I could get another thought in or word out, she told me, "He's going to break your water."
Huh?! Just like that? I know I've had stubborn water breaking issues in the past, but without even checking me or asking me?!
Part of my heart sank, because I was worried that this intervention, small as it may be in the minds of some but the biggest I've ever had, might lead to other complications or interventions or whatever. I just didn't know what to think. And while I'm sure I could have protested or flat out said, "No", the other part of my heart really wanted to meet this baby and know that everything was in fact OK. So I went back to the labor and delivery room to have the on-call doctor check me (7 cm) and break my water.
That all happened at 6:00. In the 40 minutes following, I went from 7 to just under 10 and I wanted to push. Real bad. The doc gave me the go-ahead and with my amazing husband on one side and an amazing labor and delivery nurse (I always love my L&D nurses!) on the other, I got after it. Four minutes later, at 6:45, Lincoln Thomas Welsch was born. Yes, four minutes. I was in so much pain (worse than I remembered with the others) and so desperate to get that baby out, I just kept pushing and pushing, pausing maybe twice to catch my breath.
So, in seven hours from start to finish on the good old Fourth of July, we officially became a family of five. Talk about fireworks!
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Denial
Fair Warning: discussing nursing and related bodily issues/parts here. Please skip it if you're not into hearing about such details.
I'll be honest. I've been worried about thrush pretty much since I found out I was pregnant with Baby No.3. It was awful with Harrison and somehow even worse with Raegan, so from the very beginning, I fully expected to get it again with this new kiddo.
I considered doing a sort-of cleanse at the end of my pregnancy to work out extra sugar from my diet, but Good God. You try being pregnant in summer in Hastings, Nebraska and avoiding things like ice cream and Eileen's Cookies. Impossible!
OK, so I kid a bit. I really did try to cut back on living on sugar like my tendencies and preferences like to lean, but I'm also a realist and know that following a full-on Candida Diet really isn't in the cards for me. Avoiding everything with sugar and yeast in it is SO hard. So I avoided a wee bit and crossed my fingers and flung up a prayer that maybe the third time really would be the charm and I'd avoid thrush.
Enter Lincoln, stage left, on the Fourth of July. I spent my time in the hospital working so patiently and so diligently to get his latch right. I kept telling myself that maybe if I could get him to latch really, really well, my nipples wouldn't break down and crack or blister because I was pretty darn sure that wouldn't help me with my No Thrush goal. And while we did manage to get into a pretty decent rhythm while we were at Mary Lanning, I knew it would be different when we got home and my milk came in.
I know mamas who have struggled with low milk supply issues and I know it is just as painful and heartbreaking as any other struggle a mama faces. For me, though, the challenge swings in the opposite direction with an overabundance of milk. That's just the way it has always been for me from about Day Three with Baby No.1, so much so that latching really has been a challenge in the beginning with each babe because there's not much to latch on to. And that happened again with Lincoln, especially because his little tummy would get full after nursing on just one side, leaving the other to wait for the next feeding. Somehow I managed to make it to Day Six before I had to pump to relieve some of the pressure, but in those four minutes I got seven ounces. If you've had low supply problems, please don't throw things at me. There are less-than-great outcomes of too much milk, too.
For instance, I have once again turned into a bit of a milky, leaky mess. I require two to three burp rags at a feeding to keep everybody dry and I have a heck of a time keeping myself aired out and dry after and between sessions. Hence, I believe, the prevalence of thrush in my newborns' lives.
I've been talking about it since Lincoln was born, with my nurses and my family and the local lactation consultants, and all of us have been hoping I could avoid it this time, but are you kidding me? It is July. In Nebraska. And the temps have been in the 90s and higher. And it is humid as hell. How could I possibly not get thrush after having it both times previously?!
For nine days I managed to tell myself that maybe I could do it. I could keep myself from getting all thrushy. I haven't had any coffee (OK, one decaf iced mocha), tea, or soda since Lincoln was born, in part to keep my blood sugar from spiking. I've been avoiding tons of fresh fruit, again because of the sugar, and drinking almond milk instead of cow's milk with my cereal each morning. I've changed my nursing pads religiously and been using Newman's cream and trying to air out after feedings and all that. I even started up again with a probiotic. But I haven't been perfect. I've very much enjoyed some sweets in the last nine days and granola bars have been my go-to middle-of-the-night-nursing-snack which I'm sure is a no-no; and I'll say it again, Hello, Eileen's which I know is a big no-no! So while I tried to pretend that the white stuff on Lincoln's mouth the last couple days was just milk like some breast feeding babies get, that changed today.
This afternoon, after I got out of the shower and took one look in the mirror, I knew something was wrong just by the color of my left nipple. Bright pink it should not be. Never mind the random throbbing pain I've been experiencing on that side all day, even when not nursing. *sigh* And so it begins.
While there are still plenty of home remedies and over-the-counter options, not to mention prescriptions for both myself and LT to try, my past experiences with this beast tell me that I just have to be patient. Nothing I've ever tried has worked. For me, thrush just has to run its course. Perhaps if I don't spend weeks trying to fight it, it will get bored and move on, or perhaps that's just another form of denial on my part.
What I'm not going to do is blame myself. In some reading that I came across while researching the Candida Diet for nursing moms, I learned that for some women, thrush is associated with hormones. If that is the case for me, then it is totally out of my control. It's just something my body does and I have to deal with it, which is exactly what I've always done. It sucks and it hurts and some days it really drags me down, but my past experiences also tell me that I can get through it. What can I say? Yeast and stinging nipples are no match for this stubborn mama (who will definitely be enjoying the giant cookie at her four-year-old's birthday party next week)!
I'll be honest. I've been worried about thrush pretty much since I found out I was pregnant with Baby No.3. It was awful with Harrison and somehow even worse with Raegan, so from the very beginning, I fully expected to get it again with this new kiddo.
I considered doing a sort-of cleanse at the end of my pregnancy to work out extra sugar from my diet, but Good God. You try being pregnant in summer in Hastings, Nebraska and avoiding things like ice cream and Eileen's Cookies. Impossible!
OK, so I kid a bit. I really did try to cut back on living on sugar like my tendencies and preferences like to lean, but I'm also a realist and know that following a full-on Candida Diet really isn't in the cards for me. Avoiding everything with sugar and yeast in it is SO hard. So I avoided a wee bit and crossed my fingers and flung up a prayer that maybe the third time really would be the charm and I'd avoid thrush.
Enter Lincoln, stage left, on the Fourth of July. I spent my time in the hospital working so patiently and so diligently to get his latch right. I kept telling myself that maybe if I could get him to latch really, really well, my nipples wouldn't break down and crack or blister because I was pretty darn sure that wouldn't help me with my No Thrush goal. And while we did manage to get into a pretty decent rhythm while we were at Mary Lanning, I knew it would be different when we got home and my milk came in.
I know mamas who have struggled with low milk supply issues and I know it is just as painful and heartbreaking as any other struggle a mama faces. For me, though, the challenge swings in the opposite direction with an overabundance of milk. That's just the way it has always been for me from about Day Three with Baby No.1, so much so that latching really has been a challenge in the beginning with each babe because there's not much to latch on to. And that happened again with Lincoln, especially because his little tummy would get full after nursing on just one side, leaving the other to wait for the next feeding. Somehow I managed to make it to Day Six before I had to pump to relieve some of the pressure, but in those four minutes I got seven ounces. If you've had low supply problems, please don't throw things at me. There are less-than-great outcomes of too much milk, too.
For instance, I have once again turned into a bit of a milky, leaky mess. I require two to three burp rags at a feeding to keep everybody dry and I have a heck of a time keeping myself aired out and dry after and between sessions. Hence, I believe, the prevalence of thrush in my newborns' lives.
I've been talking about it since Lincoln was born, with my nurses and my family and the local lactation consultants, and all of us have been hoping I could avoid it this time, but are you kidding me? It is July. In Nebraska. And the temps have been in the 90s and higher. And it is humid as hell. How could I possibly not get thrush after having it both times previously?!
For nine days I managed to tell myself that maybe I could do it. I could keep myself from getting all thrushy. I haven't had any coffee (OK, one decaf iced mocha), tea, or soda since Lincoln was born, in part to keep my blood sugar from spiking. I've been avoiding tons of fresh fruit, again because of the sugar, and drinking almond milk instead of cow's milk with my cereal each morning. I've changed my nursing pads religiously and been using Newman's cream and trying to air out after feedings and all that. I even started up again with a probiotic. But I haven't been perfect. I've very much enjoyed some sweets in the last nine days and granola bars have been my go-to middle-of-the-night-nursing-snack which I'm sure is a no-no; and I'll say it again, Hello, Eileen's which I know is a big no-no! So while I tried to pretend that the white stuff on Lincoln's mouth the last couple days was just milk like some breast feeding babies get, that changed today.
This afternoon, after I got out of the shower and took one look in the mirror, I knew something was wrong just by the color of my left nipple. Bright pink it should not be. Never mind the random throbbing pain I've been experiencing on that side all day, even when not nursing. *sigh* And so it begins.
While there are still plenty of home remedies and over-the-counter options, not to mention prescriptions for both myself and LT to try, my past experiences with this beast tell me that I just have to be patient. Nothing I've ever tried has worked. For me, thrush just has to run its course. Perhaps if I don't spend weeks trying to fight it, it will get bored and move on, or perhaps that's just another form of denial on my part.
What I'm not going to do is blame myself. In some reading that I came across while researching the Candida Diet for nursing moms, I learned that for some women, thrush is associated with hormones. If that is the case for me, then it is totally out of my control. It's just something my body does and I have to deal with it, which is exactly what I've always done. It sucks and it hurts and some days it really drags me down, but my past experiences also tell me that I can get through it. What can I say? Yeast and stinging nipples are no match for this stubborn mama (who will definitely be enjoying the giant cookie at her four-year-old's birthday party next week)!
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Perspective of the Third
Well, this is a first. I am typing this with the computer propped up on the edge of the Boppy. Why? Because my sweet, new, and sleeping-oh-so-nicely-on-my-lap Lincoln is just too darn warm and cozy to move. But I want to write. Need to write. So write I shall, with his little sleep noises to keep my typing taps company....
It has been almost a week since Lincoln surprised us with his patriotic arrival and there are so many thoughts and observations that keep running through my head, I just want to record as many as I can for remembering's sake (is that a thing? it is now). I can't promise a narrative thread or any sort of moral of the story; these are just the little moments in the first part of a new life, in our new family life, that stand out to me.
* Somehow I forgot how much I love holding a snoozing newborn on my chest. I simply adore it and would place it in my Top Five of Motherhood Favorites. It is warm and smells good and feels even better. And I love that my baby(ies) seem to love it as much as I do. Lincoln is such a little snuggler. I plan to eat that up for as long as he will let me (and I hope it lasts forever).
* I am blessed with kiddos who love each other. I know this doesn't mean they will always get along or even like each other necessarily, but wow, it does a body good to see how much HD & RL have already opened up to and accepted their new little brother. Harrison's always been a good big brother (even if he's never quite understood how much bigger he actually is), so his affection for LT doesn't surprise me. And Raegan's always been a little love, so I can't really say her behavior surprises me either, but I am pleased that she wants to check on him, wave to him, kiss him as much as we let her.
* The fact that I have two boys has yet to sink in for me. Perhaps this is because Lincoln is still in sweet sleepy infant mode and won't really be a full action Boy until he's more mobile. I'm sure it won't take long for him to be ripping and tearing just like his big brother (and who am I kidding? his big sister, too), but for now I just look at him and marvel at how tiny, and how calm, he is.
* Thank God for summer babies. I knew I was going to be glad to have Ben home when the new baby arrived, but wow and wow. I am grateful from here to eternity that I'm not doing this on my own and won't be for several more weeks. Ben has been a wonderful help with the older two during the days and has even been helping me with diaper changes and swaddling for LT at night. I am one lucky Wifey and my kids have one amazing Daddy.
* I have not had coffee since the day I delivered Lincoln. Full disclosure: on that day, when I realized I was in labor, I sent Ben to get me a large vanilla iced coffee because I knew I was going to need an extra push (sorry, bad pun) to get through the day. Since then, though, I haven't had a drop of coffee, tea, or soda. I drank caffeinated beverages, in moderation and no more than my doc recommended - mind you, during my entire pregnancy so it's not like I'm up on some soapbox here, I'm just saying. Because I have Ben around and can catch some downtime/naps during the day, I'm making it. While I'm proud of that for the time being, I withhold the right to throw the notion out the window the first day Ben is back to school. If Mama then needs it, then Mama shall have it!
* Harrison loves to ask, "How's the baby doing? What's the baby doing? Does Lincoln like this?" and does so all day long. He also really likes all of the baby gadgets that have reappeared in our house and is constantly being reminded to not touch the swing/bouncer/etc. or turn them on by himself. Also, he asked on LT's first night home if the baby could have a gorilla cheese (grilled cheese) sandwich. Ummmm - in about a year and a half, Buddy. :)
* Raegan is a bit fascinated with my nursing the baby. When she saw me do it for the first time, she walked over, pointed to my breast and called it a bottle. Ummmm - sure. I'm not about to tell her (or HD) the anatomically correct terms, so I just explained that that is where Lincoln gets his milk from Mama. Now every time she sees me nursing, she points to me and says, "Milk" (which sounds more like Mik coming from her, but you get the gist). I hear her say "Baby" and "Mik" a lot.
* Lincoln is a handsy little dude. I seem to remember having similar issues with my first son, but wow; I have such a hard time getting him latched to nurse because his hands are always flying up in his face. I know every mom wishes she had an extra set of hands but I seriously need them! It takes 5-10 minutes sometimes to get a feeding going because that's how long I have to try to keep his hands from getting in the way of his mouth. Little goof.
* Telling Raegan something about "her brother" now require clarification, which is still weird to me. I've already found myself referring to HD as Big Buddy and LT as Little Buddy. We'll see what sticks.
* Speaking of sticking...I'm afraid we might have a nickname for Lincoln that I was hoping to avoid. Not that there's really anything wrong with it, but I'm not a huge fan of calling him Link (Linc? See, I don't even know what to do with this!). His sister, however, has yet to master too many two syllable words ("Daddy" being an obvious exception), so she's already begun calling him "Baby Link" when she talks to or about him. Oh, well. I guess that can be her special name for him. I'll stick to LT.
*****************
OK....that's good for now. I have other, more coherent stories to share, but for now this works. In fact, you might see more posts like this in the weeks or months to come, but we are very much in "whatever works" mode and I'm totally OK with that. And so far, whatever is working just fine!
It has been almost a week since Lincoln surprised us with his patriotic arrival and there are so many thoughts and observations that keep running through my head, I just want to record as many as I can for remembering's sake (is that a thing? it is now). I can't promise a narrative thread or any sort of moral of the story; these are just the little moments in the first part of a new life, in our new family life, that stand out to me.
* Somehow I forgot how much I love holding a snoozing newborn on my chest. I simply adore it and would place it in my Top Five of Motherhood Favorites. It is warm and smells good and feels even better. And I love that my baby(ies) seem to love it as much as I do. Lincoln is such a little snuggler. I plan to eat that up for as long as he will let me (and I hope it lasts forever).
* I am blessed with kiddos who love each other. I know this doesn't mean they will always get along or even like each other necessarily, but wow, it does a body good to see how much HD & RL have already opened up to and accepted their new little brother. Harrison's always been a good big brother (even if he's never quite understood how much bigger he actually is), so his affection for LT doesn't surprise me. And Raegan's always been a little love, so I can't really say her behavior surprises me either, but I am pleased that she wants to check on him, wave to him, kiss him as much as we let her.
* The fact that I have two boys has yet to sink in for me. Perhaps this is because Lincoln is still in sweet sleepy infant mode and won't really be a full action Boy until he's more mobile. I'm sure it won't take long for him to be ripping and tearing just like his big brother (and who am I kidding? his big sister, too), but for now I just look at him and marvel at how tiny, and how calm, he is.
* Thank God for summer babies. I knew I was going to be glad to have Ben home when the new baby arrived, but wow and wow. I am grateful from here to eternity that I'm not doing this on my own and won't be for several more weeks. Ben has been a wonderful help with the older two during the days and has even been helping me with diaper changes and swaddling for LT at night. I am one lucky Wifey and my kids have one amazing Daddy.
* I have not had coffee since the day I delivered Lincoln. Full disclosure: on that day, when I realized I was in labor, I sent Ben to get me a large vanilla iced coffee because I knew I was going to need an extra push (sorry, bad pun) to get through the day. Since then, though, I haven't had a drop of coffee, tea, or soda. I drank caffeinated beverages, in moderation and no more than my doc recommended - mind you, during my entire pregnancy so it's not like I'm up on some soapbox here, I'm just saying. Because I have Ben around and can catch some downtime/naps during the day, I'm making it. While I'm proud of that for the time being, I withhold the right to throw the notion out the window the first day Ben is back to school. If Mama then needs it, then Mama shall have it!
* Harrison loves to ask, "How's the baby doing? What's the baby doing? Does Lincoln like this?" and does so all day long. He also really likes all of the baby gadgets that have reappeared in our house and is constantly being reminded to not touch the swing/bouncer/etc. or turn them on by himself. Also, he asked on LT's first night home if the baby could have a gorilla cheese (grilled cheese) sandwich. Ummmm - in about a year and a half, Buddy. :)
* Raegan is a bit fascinated with my nursing the baby. When she saw me do it for the first time, she walked over, pointed to my breast and called it a bottle. Ummmm - sure. I'm not about to tell her (or HD) the anatomically correct terms, so I just explained that that is where Lincoln gets his milk from Mama. Now every time she sees me nursing, she points to me and says, "Milk" (which sounds more like Mik coming from her, but you get the gist). I hear her say "Baby" and "Mik" a lot.
* Lincoln is a handsy little dude. I seem to remember having similar issues with my first son, but wow; I have such a hard time getting him latched to nurse because his hands are always flying up in his face. I know every mom wishes she had an extra set of hands but I seriously need them! It takes 5-10 minutes sometimes to get a feeding going because that's how long I have to try to keep his hands from getting in the way of his mouth. Little goof.
* Telling Raegan something about "her brother" now require clarification, which is still weird to me. I've already found myself referring to HD as Big Buddy and LT as Little Buddy. We'll see what sticks.
* Speaking of sticking...I'm afraid we might have a nickname for Lincoln that I was hoping to avoid. Not that there's really anything wrong with it, but I'm not a huge fan of calling him Link (Linc? See, I don't even know what to do with this!). His sister, however, has yet to master too many two syllable words ("Daddy" being an obvious exception), so she's already begun calling him "Baby Link" when she talks to or about him. Oh, well. I guess that can be her special name for him. I'll stick to LT.
*****************
OK....that's good for now. I have other, more coherent stories to share, but for now this works. In fact, you might see more posts like this in the weeks or months to come, but we are very much in "whatever works" mode and I'm totally OK with that. And so far, whatever is working just fine!
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Clingers
Maybe there's something in the water or in the air. Or maybe my kids just sense that something BIG is about to happen in our family (for my own sake, I keep hoping the BIG happens soon, but here we sit, waiting as patiently as we can for Baby No.3's natural, in her-or-his-own-good-time arrival but with no signs of anything happening soon). Whatever it is, there's been a fair amount of clinging going on lately in the Welsch household.
Raegan is going on, I'm pretty sure, two months strong of major Daddy attachment. Ben is still her No.1, go-to-guy person these days and her favorite place to be when she's not running around or climbing something is in her daddy's arms. She nestles in so nicely to his torso when he scoops her up and uses her left arm to latch herself securely to his sleeve as they tool about the house and the yard. Some days she seems to be a permanent fixture there. And seeing as I don't really have a defined waist these days, I don't really mind that she'd rather be riding around on him than me. My back and my hips probably prefer it, actually. What strikes me as most interesting, however, is just how much her brother has begun his own form of clinging.
As you know,we our children are early risers, so our days often start around 6 or before. We do our darnedest, however, to make the children wait until at least 6:30 before doing our Good Mornings routine. It's a simple idea we got from our sleep book about using a dramatic wake up. Even when the kids are clearly waking up too early, you still "decide" when the day starts by waiting until a designated time at which you start flipping on lights, throwing open curtains, and singing "GOOD MORNING!" like you mean it. Supposedly it signals to them that it is not their crying, wandering, etc. that has started the day - you have. Considering that most days my kids are still up well before I'd prefer, I'm not sure how helpful this charade has been, but it's part of our morning routine at this point, and so "Good Mornings!" we do.
Because I have been so sick and so not sleeping well this pregnancy, I pretty much let Ben take over the Good Morning thing some time ago. Then I would hide under the covers for another 5-10 minutes before dragging myself downstairs to start the day. Once summer hit and I finished teaching, I started staying in bed to try to go back to sleep while he and the noisemakers did breakfast and early morning play together. This is when I began to notice HD's own form of attachment.
At first he would just wish me a good sleep and go with Dad and Raegan. But then, on the occasional morning, he would come in, ask me how my sleep was and then ask me to come play with him or have breakfast with him. If I declined or told him Mama needed to rest some more, his little bottom lip would come out and his beautiful big eyes would take on that certain sad puppy quality (seeing as the phrase "whip a pout" exists in my own family, it is not hard to discern where he might have picked up this skill). Pouting aside, he would still go downstairs and be just fine. Then, in the last two weeks, when he would come in our room for his early morning bathroom break (that I often blame as the catalyst of our family's early waking routine), he suddenly started asking Ben if Mama would come and do Good Mornings for him.
I have no idea why the sudden change or preference for me to be the one to greet him for the day, but I've been hoisting my big belly up in the hazy, early morning darkness to do just that. And he loves it. He hears me coming because I poke my head in Raegan's nook first (she greets me, I kid you not, with questioning arms and a, "Where's Daddy????" every single day. I should also mention that, for some reason, she sounds mildly French when saying this. Why? I don't know.). I then open his door next at which point he rolls/flips out of his bed, yells "Mama!" and is ready to start the day. As for me? If it was a particularly rough night with too many bathroom breaks, bizarre dreams, and extended periods of Awake, I crawl back in bed, again causing my Little Man to pout. He much prefers the mornings when I join them downstairs for some playtime and breakfast before I sneak back up for a morning nap while they hang out with Dad (thank God for my teacher-by-trade husband and the fact that we are having a summer baby!).
Am I thrilled to be on call for musical joy and sunshine each morning? Quite honestly, I'd rather have some quiet time and coffee first, but when my sweet, sweet just-about-to-turn-four-years-old son is that delighted to have me get him up for the day (he still asks Ben almost every morning if Mama can do Good Mornings and then says, "OK. Thanks!" before heading back to his room to wait for me), I can't really say it's that bad of a gig. And since I know the BIG changes are in fact happening sooner than later, if there's anything I can do to help ground or comfort either of the older two, then I am happy to do so (dark circles and all).
Raegan is going on, I'm pretty sure, two months strong of major Daddy attachment. Ben is still her No.1, go-to-
As you know,
Because I have been so sick and so not sleeping well this pregnancy, I pretty much let Ben take over the Good Morning thing some time ago. Then I would hide under the covers for another 5-10 minutes before dragging myself downstairs to start the day. Once summer hit and I finished teaching, I started staying in bed to try to go back to sleep while he and the noisemakers did breakfast and early morning play together. This is when I began to notice HD's own form of attachment.
At first he would just wish me a good sleep and go with Dad and Raegan. But then, on the occasional morning, he would come in, ask me how my sleep was and then ask me to come play with him or have breakfast with him. If I declined or told him Mama needed to rest some more, his little bottom lip would come out and his beautiful big eyes would take on that certain sad puppy quality (seeing as the phrase "whip a pout" exists in my own family, it is not hard to discern where he might have picked up this skill). Pouting aside, he would still go downstairs and be just fine. Then, in the last two weeks, when he would come in our room for his early morning bathroom break (that I often blame as the catalyst of our family's early waking routine), he suddenly started asking Ben if Mama would come and do Good Mornings for him.
I have no idea why the sudden change or preference for me to be the one to greet him for the day, but I've been hoisting my big belly up in the hazy, early morning darkness to do just that. And he loves it. He hears me coming because I poke my head in Raegan's nook first (she greets me, I kid you not, with questioning arms and a, "Where's Daddy????" every single day. I should also mention that, for some reason, she sounds mildly French when saying this. Why? I don't know.). I then open his door next at which point he rolls/flips out of his bed, yells "Mama!" and is ready to start the day. As for me? If it was a particularly rough night with too many bathroom breaks, bizarre dreams, and extended periods of Awake, I crawl back in bed, again causing my Little Man to pout. He much prefers the mornings when I join them downstairs for some playtime and breakfast before I sneak back up for a morning nap while they hang out with Dad (thank God for my teacher-by-trade husband and the fact that we are having a summer baby!).
Am I thrilled to be on call for musical joy and sunshine each morning? Quite honestly, I'd rather have some quiet time and coffee first, but when my sweet, sweet just-about-to-turn-four-years-old son is that delighted to have me get him up for the day (he still asks Ben almost every morning if Mama can do Good Mornings and then says, "OK. Thanks!" before heading back to his room to wait for me), I can't really say it's that bad of a gig. And since I know the BIG changes are in fact happening sooner than later, if there's anything I can do to help ground or comfort either of the older two, then I am happy to do so (dark circles and all).
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