Taking a quick minute today to reflect on tender mercies...
I am scheduled for an induction on Monday, but my doc hopes I go into labor sooner. He is concerned that the baby may be growing too fast, but Monday was the earliest the induction could be scheduled...
I am, however, feeling hopeful. After weeks of contractions and finding that my body once again doesn't want to do what its supposed to in order to get the baby here, I am grateful for a doctor with foresight who is willing to look ahead and be cautious.
Of course, as all of this is going on, the girls have to get sick with some weird, random summer cold.
Poor Phillie was miserable yesterday and the day before, but, after being up all night seems like she is feeling better today (in spite of her cough and stuffy nose) as she has returned to her chipper, silly self...
However, poor Faith woke up even sicker than I ever saw Phillie the last few days (being a few days behind catching the bug.)
Am I nervous? YOU BET...am I constantly, silently praying that the girls are better before we bring baby sister home? ABSOLUTELY...
However, in spite of all the things that could be stressing me out and making me nervous, I have seen small tender mercies in today and feel like I need to share them and record them.
Phillie, seeing how sick her big sister is, has been following her around like a shadow. She hands her toys when Faith wants to play, she hands her a sippy when she looks thirsty and has waited patiently for her turn without complaint all day.
I had been concerned in some ways about how Phillie would respond to not being the "baby" anymore...However, today has shown me that her care, compassion,and concern for others has grown leaps and bounds in such a short time. She will be an amazing big sister and I have no doubt that she will show that same kindness to the baby as she sees and understands that baby sister is weaker than her and needs her help and care.
Poor Faith has been super lethargic and has been running a low grade fever all day in spite of being given Tylenol or Ibuprofen...but, she has found comfort in a way that I didn't expect at all, but should have.
This morning she found a picture of Jesus on the top of the entertainment center. My parents were staying with us in anticipation of the arrival of the new baby and it somehow got knocked off our fridge and I placed it there this morning thinking it would go unnoticed.
Faith, has hugged and carried the picture around all day ever since she found it.
Isn't it amazing how intuitive little children are?
Even without being able to verbally communicate, my little girl is able to show me that she understands and knows Him and who He is, and that her knowledge brings her comfort.
I am grateful for tender mercies.
Hugs and loves until next time, darlings.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Fatherhood
As Father's Day has been approaching, I have found myself reflecting on my courtship with my sweet husband.
Had I known all that I do now, I think many of my fears would have been abated, but hind sight is always 20/20.
However, as I have reflected, as I have thought about how silly my fears were I have come to one astounding conclusion: My then fiancee was quietly demonstrating his manhood as we approached our temple date...he was showing me the kind of father he would someday be...and I, clueless, had to watch and wait until almost 4 years later to truly understand the scope of what had occurred during our whirlwind courtship and engagement.
I found this video on the Mormon Channel on Youtube as I had been searching for the best, most inspiring Father's Day tribute I could find.
As I watched and tears came to my eyes, I realized I was sobbing because my heart was full of love for my own dear husband. I knew from his previous actions that should we be in a similar situation to Elder Christofferson's parents, he would do exactly the same thing. He would make the necessary sacrifices to ensure the happiness of me and my children...because he does it every day...because he did it while we were dating and engaged.
Let me take you back almost 4 years.
A few weeks before Jeff met me, he broke up with a young woman he'd been dating for a few months. There were other reasons that went into ending the relationship, but one of the biggest factors had been his schooling. He was approaching the hardest semester of his program...the "make or break" semester. Many in his challenging RSCET program ended up failing and repeating this semester, some several times.
Jeff knew that he emotionally, physically, and mentally didn't have the capacity to foster any "romantic" relationships as he completed this particular semester. He even quit his part time job, a job he quite enjoyed, in order to focus his attention 100% on school and this particular semester.
When we met, there were no fireworks, no instant attraction. I thought Jeff seemed like a nice fellow and he thought I was a show off but saw that I was kind and didn't discount the possibility of me being one of his many friends that he already had in our single's ward.
It wasn't until a few weeks after we met that I became smitten. Jeff knew that he needed time for fun, and had actually come to my apartment one night in pursuit of one of my roommates. He was intending to ask her on a date. They were running partners, he thought she was a nice girl, and he didn't want to be all work and no play. He figured it would be worth it to ask her out....however, she wasn't there that night. Instead, myself and my other roommate, a recently returned sister missionary that he had been friends with before her mission, entertained him. Eventually, my roommate went to study and Jeff and I were left at my kitchen table discussing everything from life, love, and the pursuit of happiness. I became intrigued by him as we discussed what we saw for our futures, I became smitten when I realized that our dating goals were similar and that we both had similar outlooks on what made relationships successful or broke them. His blue eyes sparkled as he talked about his education and we shared jokes.
I finally had to end our conversation and kick him out of my apartment at 1 AM. I had an early call time for rehearsal the next day...I didn't want him to leave. I could have talked to him all night, but I couldn't. As he left, I went to bed knowing that I was completely twitterpated. This feeling made me nervous and happy all at once. He had made it clear during our conversation that he was focusing on school this semester and that dating someone seriously was going to be out of the question. I decided and resolved to try to keep my crush a secret in order to avoid being hurt, but my roommates were intuitive and figured it out and banded together to get Jeff to at least ask me out on a date...
Our first date was a small disaster....but that is a story for another day...
What came next is probably a small miracle.
For some reason, Jeff, who had resolved not to pursue anything, continued to call and ask to spend time with me...and I, who had been offended deeply on our first date, found it in my heart to forgive him and to pursue a friendship... and then, our friendship started to evolve and change...before either of us realized it, we were dating...no talk defining the relationship occurred...we just liked each other and weren't pursuing spending time with anyone else.
During this time, unbeknownst to me, Jeff, who had always made it clear that he wasn't interested in marriage until he finished school, decided that he was going to propose...
He went to a local jeweler that was located inside a store that many of his friends would frequent. He had it in his mind that if he ran into anyone he knew, it would be a sign not to continue in his purchase of the ring...Nobody came...and a simple, modest engagement ring was procured...he then made the ultimate sacrifice.
In spite of much of our time together being focused on him studying, he was struggling that semester. He knew he couldn't be engaged and in school...Jeff made the hard choice to withdraw from his big, hard class that semester and to focus the majority of his attention on me, our relationship, and our impending engagement.
I have to laugh at myself when I think of the conversation that occurred after he made this choice and made his sacrifice.
We went to a CES fireside together on Sunday, it was (surprise, surprise) Elder Holland talking about marriage. As we listened to Elder Holland, we wrote notes back and forth. As our conversation progressed, I started to become nervous and scared. I had been to this point before in relationships and had come out hurt, confused, and alone.
The next day, we didn't see one another, I was busy with school. We texted back and forth and made plans to go to steak night at a local sports bar that served a cheap steak dinner every Tuesday. Dinner was pleasant, but my fears bubbled beneath the surface the whole time. I knew I was falling fast and hard for this young man and I didn't want to be hurt, especially knowing how determined he was to finish this semester. I didn't want to ultimately be deemed a distraction and liability and left alone...Finally, I couldn't hold it in anymore and on the car ride home we started discussing my fears and feelings. We pulled into the parking lot of our apartment complex (we lived in the same complex a few apartments away from one another), and he held my hand as I cried and offered him his "out"...I told him that I loved him, I knew I loved him, it was terrifying me...But I loved him enough to know what his aspirations and goals were and that if I was in the way of him pursuing his goals, he needed to end it now before I got in any deeper than I was. He held me as I sobbed (UGLY SOBBED) into his shoulder and laughed. He quietly reassured me the if he had wanted out, he wouldn't have continued to pursue me and that he wouldn't have made the sacrifices he had made to continue to see me...I didn't understand the depth of those sacrifices until much later. It wasn't until after we were engaged that I would find out that he had dropped his classes.
He played this sacrifice off as a choice he had made because he was already getting poor grades and knew there was no way he would be able to recover with the time left in the semester...it wasn't until we had been married a few years that he divulged the sacrifice, sheepishly...and I couldn't have loved him more for it...
I could kick myself for doubting him as our courtship progressed knowing what I know now...
He was laying the foundation for our future relationship. He knew that one day, I would be required to make large sacrifices for him and our family, and he knew that this would be the first of many...he truly loved me... I sometimes wish I'd seen it sooner, but it makes me appreciate him and our relationship all the more now.
I, unknowingly, stumbled into a relationship with someone who understood what it meant to be a man, a husband, and, someday a father.
He knew and knows that true love means sacrifice. Some sacrifices, like repeating that semester of school, are big...He didn't ask for accolades or a grand gesture in return. He didn't make a big announcement. He quietly chose to make the sacrifice and trusted that I would bear with him through the consequences of that sacrifice...that I loved him enough to wait patiently as it took longer for him to finish his schooling...
Some sacrifices, like the ones he makes every day are small.
He comes home, tired from a day of work, or travel and snaps quickly and quietly into husband and daddy mode. I'm sure all he wants to do is hide in a corner somewhere to regain his strength and senses, but he walks through the door, accepts the eager hugs and kisses of our sweet babies, plays with them and meets their needs, kisses his tired, haggered wife- who probably not feeling so attractive after a day of housework and child rearing... and asks "What can I do to help?"
He could choose to sit in the corner- he knows I would let him for as long as I could stand it. He knows I would make that sacrifice of a little more of my sanity for him...but he chooses to sacrifice a little of his every day...
The big sacrifice was made so that he could demonstrate his ability to himself and to me to make the little sacrifices that we would need to grow together.
If I could give my girls any advice when it comes to dating in the future, if I could tell them how to know if a young man truly loves them, I would tell them to look to their father and his example.
True love means sacrifice.True love isn't selfish, and true love doesn't require rewards and grand gestures to acknowledge that sacrifice has been made.
I would tell them to look to see what that young man has sacrificed for them. Does he have a servant's heart? Is he willing to do whatever it takes to be sure that their relationship is being fostered to slowly grow and change into something more...can they openly express their fears and know that he won't use those fears against them? Will he, like their father, give up his own comfort momentarily in order to help them when they have no strength left?
They may not see it all at once, but their father really is a "true man"... He works every day to be more like his Father in Heaven and Jesus Christ. He quietly gives them love, strength, and sacrifice.
He is the best father they could ask for...I know, and he knows, that one day they will, without meaning it, tell them they "hate" him, he knows that his sacrifices won't always go noticed, but he has faith that he will be rewarded later on with the same courtesy and love he has shown them and me. He has faith that God will reward him for his efforts to be a good provider and for the sacrifices he makes in order to ensure their happiness and his.
Should we someday have a son, I can only pray that he will be able to glean from his father's example to become as wonderful a man as Jeff is.
Happy Father's Day, Jeff.
I love you more every day, with every sacrifice big or small. I only pray I can repay you in kind for all the kindness,love, respect, and sacrifices you have given me. Your small sacrifices don't go unnoticed. I wish I remembered to say more often how much every little thing you do means to me. I couldn't ask for a better husband or father for my children.
I often tell you that my world doesn't work without you in it, and I mean that with my whole heart. Your small sacrifices allow me the chance to recoup my strength and make me a better person and a better mom. I hope that you can say the same about me, and if you can't, I hope that I can grow to become better so that you are made stronger and better by me.
I love you. Thank you for choosing me and for continuing to choose me every day. I will be grateful every day that you made that choice and continue to.
Together...Forever.
Had I known all that I do now, I think many of my fears would have been abated, but hind sight is always 20/20.
However, as I have reflected, as I have thought about how silly my fears were I have come to one astounding conclusion: My then fiancee was quietly demonstrating his manhood as we approached our temple date...he was showing me the kind of father he would someday be...and I, clueless, had to watch and wait until almost 4 years later to truly understand the scope of what had occurred during our whirlwind courtship and engagement.
As I watched and tears came to my eyes, I realized I was sobbing because my heart was full of love for my own dear husband. I knew from his previous actions that should we be in a similar situation to Elder Christofferson's parents, he would do exactly the same thing. He would make the necessary sacrifices to ensure the happiness of me and my children...because he does it every day...because he did it while we were dating and engaged.
Let me take you back almost 4 years.
A few weeks before Jeff met me, he broke up with a young woman he'd been dating for a few months. There were other reasons that went into ending the relationship, but one of the biggest factors had been his schooling. He was approaching the hardest semester of his program...the "make or break" semester. Many in his challenging RSCET program ended up failing and repeating this semester, some several times.
Jeff knew that he emotionally, physically, and mentally didn't have the capacity to foster any "romantic" relationships as he completed this particular semester. He even quit his part time job, a job he quite enjoyed, in order to focus his attention 100% on school and this particular semester.
When we met, there were no fireworks, no instant attraction. I thought Jeff seemed like a nice fellow and he thought I was a show off but saw that I was kind and didn't discount the possibility of me being one of his many friends that he already had in our single's ward.
It wasn't until a few weeks after we met that I became smitten. Jeff knew that he needed time for fun, and had actually come to my apartment one night in pursuit of one of my roommates. He was intending to ask her on a date. They were running partners, he thought she was a nice girl, and he didn't want to be all work and no play. He figured it would be worth it to ask her out....however, she wasn't there that night. Instead, myself and my other roommate, a recently returned sister missionary that he had been friends with before her mission, entertained him. Eventually, my roommate went to study and Jeff and I were left at my kitchen table discussing everything from life, love, and the pursuit of happiness. I became intrigued by him as we discussed what we saw for our futures, I became smitten when I realized that our dating goals were similar and that we both had similar outlooks on what made relationships successful or broke them. His blue eyes sparkled as he talked about his education and we shared jokes.
I finally had to end our conversation and kick him out of my apartment at 1 AM. I had an early call time for rehearsal the next day...I didn't want him to leave. I could have talked to him all night, but I couldn't. As he left, I went to bed knowing that I was completely twitterpated. This feeling made me nervous and happy all at once. He had made it clear during our conversation that he was focusing on school this semester and that dating someone seriously was going to be out of the question. I decided and resolved to try to keep my crush a secret in order to avoid being hurt, but my roommates were intuitive and figured it out and banded together to get Jeff to at least ask me out on a date...
Our first date was a small disaster....but that is a story for another day...
What came next is probably a small miracle.
For some reason, Jeff, who had resolved not to pursue anything, continued to call and ask to spend time with me...and I, who had been offended deeply on our first date, found it in my heart to forgive him and to pursue a friendship... and then, our friendship started to evolve and change...before either of us realized it, we were dating...no talk defining the relationship occurred...we just liked each other and weren't pursuing spending time with anyone else.
During this time, unbeknownst to me, Jeff, who had always made it clear that he wasn't interested in marriage until he finished school, decided that he was going to propose...
He went to a local jeweler that was located inside a store that many of his friends would frequent. He had it in his mind that if he ran into anyone he knew, it would be a sign not to continue in his purchase of the ring...Nobody came...and a simple, modest engagement ring was procured...he then made the ultimate sacrifice.
In spite of much of our time together being focused on him studying, he was struggling that semester. He knew he couldn't be engaged and in school...Jeff made the hard choice to withdraw from his big, hard class that semester and to focus the majority of his attention on me, our relationship, and our impending engagement.
I have to laugh at myself when I think of the conversation that occurred after he made this choice and made his sacrifice.
We went to a CES fireside together on Sunday, it was (surprise, surprise) Elder Holland talking about marriage. As we listened to Elder Holland, we wrote notes back and forth. As our conversation progressed, I started to become nervous and scared. I had been to this point before in relationships and had come out hurt, confused, and alone.
The next day, we didn't see one another, I was busy with school. We texted back and forth and made plans to go to steak night at a local sports bar that served a cheap steak dinner every Tuesday. Dinner was pleasant, but my fears bubbled beneath the surface the whole time. I knew I was falling fast and hard for this young man and I didn't want to be hurt, especially knowing how determined he was to finish this semester. I didn't want to ultimately be deemed a distraction and liability and left alone...Finally, I couldn't hold it in anymore and on the car ride home we started discussing my fears and feelings. We pulled into the parking lot of our apartment complex (we lived in the same complex a few apartments away from one another), and he held my hand as I cried and offered him his "out"...I told him that I loved him, I knew I loved him, it was terrifying me...But I loved him enough to know what his aspirations and goals were and that if I was in the way of him pursuing his goals, he needed to end it now before I got in any deeper than I was. He held me as I sobbed (UGLY SOBBED) into his shoulder and laughed. He quietly reassured me the if he had wanted out, he wouldn't have continued to pursue me and that he wouldn't have made the sacrifices he had made to continue to see me...I didn't understand the depth of those sacrifices until much later. It wasn't until after we were engaged that I would find out that he had dropped his classes.
He played this sacrifice off as a choice he had made because he was already getting poor grades and knew there was no way he would be able to recover with the time left in the semester...it wasn't until we had been married a few years that he divulged the sacrifice, sheepishly...and I couldn't have loved him more for it...
I could kick myself for doubting him as our courtship progressed knowing what I know now...
He was laying the foundation for our future relationship. He knew that one day, I would be required to make large sacrifices for him and our family, and he knew that this would be the first of many...he truly loved me... I sometimes wish I'd seen it sooner, but it makes me appreciate him and our relationship all the more now.
I, unknowingly, stumbled into a relationship with someone who understood what it meant to be a man, a husband, and, someday a father.
He knew and knows that true love means sacrifice. Some sacrifices, like repeating that semester of school, are big...He didn't ask for accolades or a grand gesture in return. He didn't make a big announcement. He quietly chose to make the sacrifice and trusted that I would bear with him through the consequences of that sacrifice...that I loved him enough to wait patiently as it took longer for him to finish his schooling...
Some sacrifices, like the ones he makes every day are small.
He comes home, tired from a day of work, or travel and snaps quickly and quietly into husband and daddy mode. I'm sure all he wants to do is hide in a corner somewhere to regain his strength and senses, but he walks through the door, accepts the eager hugs and kisses of our sweet babies, plays with them and meets their needs, kisses his tired, haggered wife- who probably not feeling so attractive after a day of housework and child rearing... and asks "What can I do to help?"
He could choose to sit in the corner- he knows I would let him for as long as I could stand it. He knows I would make that sacrifice of a little more of my sanity for him...but he chooses to sacrifice a little of his every day...
The big sacrifice was made so that he could demonstrate his ability to himself and to me to make the little sacrifices that we would need to grow together.
If I could give my girls any advice when it comes to dating in the future, if I could tell them how to know if a young man truly loves them, I would tell them to look to their father and his example.
True love means sacrifice.True love isn't selfish, and true love doesn't require rewards and grand gestures to acknowledge that sacrifice has been made.
I would tell them to look to see what that young man has sacrificed for them. Does he have a servant's heart? Is he willing to do whatever it takes to be sure that their relationship is being fostered to slowly grow and change into something more...can they openly express their fears and know that he won't use those fears against them? Will he, like their father, give up his own comfort momentarily in order to help them when they have no strength left?
They may not see it all at once, but their father really is a "true man"... He works every day to be more like his Father in Heaven and Jesus Christ. He quietly gives them love, strength, and sacrifice.
He is the best father they could ask for...I know, and he knows, that one day they will, without meaning it, tell them they "hate" him, he knows that his sacrifices won't always go noticed, but he has faith that he will be rewarded later on with the same courtesy and love he has shown them and me. He has faith that God will reward him for his efforts to be a good provider and for the sacrifices he makes in order to ensure their happiness and his.
Should we someday have a son, I can only pray that he will be able to glean from his father's example to become as wonderful a man as Jeff is.
Happy Father's Day, Jeff.
I love you more every day, with every sacrifice big or small. I only pray I can repay you in kind for all the kindness,love, respect, and sacrifices you have given me. Your small sacrifices don't go unnoticed. I wish I remembered to say more often how much every little thing you do means to me. I couldn't ask for a better husband or father for my children.
I often tell you that my world doesn't work without you in it, and I mean that with my whole heart. Your small sacrifices allow me the chance to recoup my strength and make me a better person and a better mom. I hope that you can say the same about me, and if you can't, I hope that I can grow to become better so that you are made stronger and better by me.
I love you. Thank you for choosing me and for continuing to choose me every day. I will be grateful every day that you made that choice and continue to.
Together...Forever.
Monday, June 9, 2014
Shame and Guilt:Mommy Wars
Once upon a time, I actually was contemplating being a nurse. I thought it would be amazing to be a labor and delivery nurse at a local hospital. I started taking classes my high school offered that would prepare me for this. One of those classes was Health Occupations. As part of the class, we had to do a shadow project and follow a health care worker around for the day. I called early and managed to snag one of the coveted spots at the labor and delivery unit of the local hospital to shadow the nurses there.
The day I spent there was a whirlwind and a lot of fun to watch. A woman laboring invited me to witness her birth, I got to help in the nursery giving new babies their first "baths", it was a great day...except for one little blip that really bothered me and stayed with me.
There was a young mother getting ready to leave the hospital that day with her baby. I was sitting at the nurses station having a chat with the nurse I'd been shadowing in the nursery asking questions required for my shadow project and another nurse approached.
"The girl in Room 312 is going home in a few minutes...and she is still REFUSING to breast feed. Can you believe it?!" she announced incredulously to the nurses seated at the station.
another nurse that had joined in on my Q&A session spoke up and said:
"Alright, sounds like we need to have another chat."
I then watched as the nurse I'd been shadowing, and three other nurses entered into this girls room and BULLIED her about not wanting to breast feed.
She had her reasons. She was a single mom who worked in a male dominated environment and knew that pumping wasn't going to be a very good option once she went back to work because there wasn't much time to stop and take breaks to do it. She knew legally she had rights to take breaks to pump, but she would rather not have to worry about the hassle of it all.
To me, this made sense...but the nurses kept pushing, bullying, SHAMING her for not being a good mom and doing what was "best" for her baby.
This exchange stuck with me throughout the years.
I understood the importance of breastfeeding. I understood what the baby would be getting, but I didn't see why it was such a big deal that someone DIDN'T breast feed for valid reasons...how did that make them a "bad mom" (yes, the words "bad mom" were used by those nurses that day) if they were trying to do what worked best for their family and personal situation.
Then, my time to be a mother came.
I had planned on everything being as natural as possible. I didn't want an epidural, I didn't want Pitocin, I wanted to experience everything...
I naively spent hours writing a detailed birthing plan that I gave my midwife and handed in at the hospital when I pre-registered.
Of course, I was planning on breast feeding...it was natural. It was what I was supposed to do...I had no reason not to.
Then, the Little Diva came over a month early...the birthing plan I had made so painstakingly was null and void. My water had broken, but my body wasn't contracting and I was at high risk for infection...enter the Pitocin drip...Forget about attempting to breast feed within the first hour after birth- Faith was rushed to the NICU before I even had a chance to see her little face with respiratory issues. She ended up on CPAP for the first 8 hours of her life....
Then, the school of hard knocks really began.
There were so many things that I wasn't prepared for...that nobody had told me.
Since I had said I was breast feeding, the nurses hadn't fed Faith at all. I had hemmorhaged and couldn't walk or stand for the first 8 hours after birth because I was on the cusp of needing a transfusion. I couldn't go see her until late the night after I delivered her. Since she was on CPAP they couldn't feed her yet, so they told me they would bring call me in after they could get her on a canula later that night.
Nobody came.
The next morning, a sweet nurse asked if I was ever going to try to feed my baby.
I had been pumping all night trying to get food for them to feed her through a dropper and I wasn't producing ANYTHING.
Nobody had told me that there were different sizes of suction cups for breast pumps, and being well endowed, my awesome pump had turned my nipples to hamburger because the suction cup was too small...
There was problem number 1.
The lactation consultant and nurses banded together, got me the right size suction cups, and encouraged me to keep going....Still...nothing.
Finally, one sweet nurse said we could try to see about latching since Faith was on the nasal canula instead of CPAP, hoping that maybe it would get me to produce to have the natural stimulation.
Again, my well endowed nature worked against me. My breasts were too big to fit into Faith's mouth with a good latch. Every moment we tried again and again to make it work was painful torture with blisters and scabs opening up...and my baby wasn't getting anything.
The idea of a traumatic birth delaying my production was brought up. One nurse brought me a strange device that you put formula into and it attached to your bra, then a long tube extended down the breast. The baby would still try to latch, but would suck the formula out of the tube until I could start producing milk.
I was still too large to fit into Faith's mouth and the addition of the tube was awkward and frustrating.
Again, I was told I just needed to keep at it.
Faith wasn't eating enough to go home. Finally, in desperation I asked one of the nurses if I could just try to give her a bottle. I was exhausted. I had hemmorhaged, I had been up all night for 2 nights pumping trying to follow the instructions of the lactation consultant and inside the NICU trying to make this breast feeding thing work, and I just wanted to jump over the last hurdle to get my baby home.
The nurse gave me a shpeel about nipple confusion, and I told her I didn't care, I knew she wasn't getting what she needed because we were focusing too much on the breast feeding aspect of things. Sure enough, she devoured a full 30 mL bottle of formula...shocking the nurses...and slept for the next hours straight... the first sleep I'd gotten since I'd entered the hospital almost 3 days before.
I still would attempt to breast feed and then, after we would fail at yet another attempt, I would top her off with a bottle.
Sure enough, she was able to come home after 4 days instead of after 2 weeks like they had originally thought...all because she was able to eat like she needed to and wanted to...
I went home and continued my crusade. My poor breasts were broken, bleeding, painful to the touch and swollen all the time. I finally started producing, and decided to give up on latching. I was getting almost no sleep in my attempts to get her to latch and it wasn't successful because she couldn't get a good enough latch to get anything out. It also turned out that my little early bird baby was a voracious eater. No matter how much I produced, I was always behind and had to top her off with formula.
Things did get a little better...I went from NO sleep to maybe an hour and a half in a 24 hour period... My body and my baby were completely out of sync. I would just finish pumping, and she would want to eat, which would work out at first, but then, while we was STARVING, she took forever to eat. I would lay her down almost 2 hours later, and I would need to pump again...and the cycle would start over.
Finally, in desperation to produce more milk so I could be a "good mom" and stop having to top her off with formula, I followed the instructions of a lactation consultant and purchased the herbs that were supposed to increase your milk supply...
BAD IDEA...
I AND my baby ended up covered in hives- we were allergic to one or all of them. A call to the doctor revealed that I would have to throw out any milk I'd produced since starting the herbs and that I would have to continue to throw out anything I pumped for the next week to be sure they were out of my system...
Anyone who said there is no reason to cry over spilled milk never had to dump out six 30 mL bottles full of breast milk and face the idea of having to throw out everything they worked to pump after that for a week...
Tired, broken, in pain...at that point, after 3 weeks of trying to make it work, I decided to stop breast feeding. It just wasn't going to work.
I already felt bad enough...I knew formula was going to be an extra expense, I knew that breast milk was what was going to be "best" for my baby because that is what everyone had pounded into my head...and of course, when I reached out to fellow mommy friends, I was met with another obstacle...SHAME...so much SHAME.
I was being selfish. It would get better. I could make it work if I really wanted to, I just wasn't trying hard enough. Had I called my local La Leche League? They could help give me more pointers. If not, I most certainly hadn't done EVERYTHING I could do. I just COULDN'T stop...PERISH THE THOUGHT! My declaration that I was giving up after 3 weeks of hell for my own sanity, so I could be a better mom, so I could enjoy my baby, was akin to having killed a baby seal on national television to the people that I thought were my friends...
Fortunately, I had a supportive family and husband who had watched me struggle through the last three weeks and were completely on board and helpful in any way they could be.
I decided to ignore the nay sayers and detach myself from them for a while, and focus on learning to enjoy my baby and finding a way to get caught up on sleep so I could feel like a normally functioning human again...
A breast exam by my midwife at my 6 week post partum check up revealed that my breast anatomy is actually slightly askew. I was told that no matter what it would likely always take longer for me to produce anything and I would likely have difficulty producing period.
When I found out a few months later that Phillie had surprised us and was on her way, I was dreading my decision...I didn't know what I was going to do.
I definitely didn't want a repeat of what had happened with Faith, and the realization that I would have a 10 month old AND a newborn to take care of weighed heavily.
My older sister was an amazing voice of reason. She calmed me as best as she could when the subject came up. She said to just try and see what happened and that I knew better where my breaking point was going to be this time...that I was prepared to deal with the public opinion because I'd been through it if I decided it just wasn't going to work.
The day came. Phillie arrived. I learned from my previous experience. There was no birth plan. No expectations. After going through 4 weeks of contractions that weren't causing any change, I was scheduled for an induction at 39 weeks ON THE DOT.
Everything went smoothly. I didn't tear, didn't hemmorhage...and Phillie slept through the entire first night of her life (she had a large head and probably a very large headache. The nurses said to not be surprised if she didn't stir since she was probably sleeping off the pain as the swelling in her head went down.)
I had also learned to say that I was going to do "both" when it came to breast or bottle. Of course, I was met with a shpeel about nipple confusion, but the nurses grudgingly brought some bottles of formula in for me to use should the need arise.
I attempted to get Phillie to latch...and, again, we had the same problem...her mouth was too small and I was too large...and of course, there was nothing coming out...
Since Phillie was eager to try to latch, I would try to get as good a latch as I could and let her suckle until frustration of not being satiated would settle in, and then switch to the bottle. I had figured that this would be better than being up all night trying to pump every 45 minutes.
My last day in the hospital, I had a knock at the door. In walked the lactation consultant...smug, and very proud of herself she announced, " I hear you say you're going to do both breast AND bottle...well, that just isn't going to work. I'm here to help you because you NEED to breast feed and breast feed only..."
I sat in shock for a moment.
Finally I said, "If you have any extra tips, I will happily take them. I just know what my body will and won't do. I don't even have colostrum right now. I'm letting the baby latch as best as I can to stimulate production but I know she is going to need a bottle at the end if I don't want her to starve to death."
The lactation consultant walked towards me, "That is just ridiculous. You have something. You HAVE to have SOMETHING."
She moved my baby down on the bed, and quickly reached out and grabbed my nipple, squeezing as HARD as she could for what felt like an eternity...squeezing every which way to try to get some colostrum to come out and determined to prove to this lesser individual (me) that she was dead wrong...she didn't even ask for my permission to touch me.
Finally, after the shock and horror wore off I asked her to stop and she said, "Hmmm...I guess you don't have anything...well, let's work on that latch then so we can be sure that you're stimulating production the RIGHT way." she said very condescendingly.
I showed her what I was doing. A technique the lactation consultant I'd had with Faith taught me in order to try to encourage the baby to get the nipple and as much of the surrounding skin as possible in an attempt to get a good latch.
"Oh, NO NO NO! That is ALL wrong."
She then proceeded to try to show me a very awkward, very ineffective way to get a good latch that wasn't going to work with my well endowed status.
"There," she said, so proud of herself, "Isn't that better?"
"No, actually, its worse. She has all nipple and no surrounding skin. At least she had some skin in her mouth when I was doing it the way they taught me with my first." I said, eager to get a little of my own back since this woman's obvious aim was to humiliate and shame me into submission...
She then proceeded to try again, each latch getting worse and worse. Finally, she reached out and grabbed my breast again, this time doing the EXACT SAME THING I had done.
"That's what I was doing already." I said.
"Well, " she said, "YOU can't do it because you don't have the vantage point that I do. It will be more effective if I do it and you keep practicing that technique I have been trying to teach you. Right now, I just want to get this baby latched." She said smugly.
"How is that?"
"Mmmm, better." I lied...it felt exactly the same as it had when I had done it...but I just wanted this woman OUT of my room.
She got up and said, "Well, keep at it...and I don't think you should use the bottle. You never know when you'll start to get something in and I would hate for there to be nipple confusion keeping you from being successful..." followed by a shpeel about why formula was so evil and bad and breast milk was so superior...
We came home from the hospital that evening.
Upon seeing me walk up the stairs to my apartment, Faith saw me and started to wail and scream. She hadn't seen me in 2 1/2 days...and, right on cue, Phillie let out a banshee roar to let me know she was hungry.
I had a screaming baby in a car seat on the floor and a screaming baby in my arms that just wanted to snuggle her mamma...
I handed Faith to my mom, took Phillie back to the bedroom for some privacy and then proceeded to have a panic attack...
My mother, knowing something wasn't right, had handed Faith off and joined me in my bedroom.
I was struggling. Wrestling with guilt and shame over the very idea that I wouldn't want to try to MAKE this work...breast feeding was natural. It was something that I was supposed to be able to do. I was a big fat failure..
Lactation Consultant lady had succeeded. I was feeling fully ashamed for my "selfish" thoughts.
My mother stroked my back and held my screaming infant. After a bit, she took Phillie out of the room and asked my mother in law to make a bottle and feed her and returned to me...shaking, in tears, unable to breathe or move...
and then she said, "Brittany, you have to ask yourself this question: Is breast feeding more important than being the best mom you can be to BOTH of your kids. If you're going to have a break down, I think you know the answer to that and you shouldn't feel guilty. It just doesn't work for some women and that is okay. You need to be the best mom and wife that you can be and if you're too focused on this one aspect of it, then you're going to miss everything that matters."
As she spoke, I calmed and I realized how right she was. Yes, nutritionally, breast milk was best, but emotionally, physically, I was going to be a wreck fighting to MAKE it happen for one child, and in the process I was going to miss out on time that my other child needed, that my husband needed. I couldn't spend weeks taxed and worried about making this work. Nature had put me at a disadvantage, but it didn't make me less of a mother...or even a bad mom. My baby would still be fed, diapered, bathed, and loved. It didn't matter what was in her tummy as long as she was healthy.
And with that, I dried my tears and decided to stop feeling guilty, to stop letting all the other voices shame me. It was MY choice and I was making the best choice I could make for my family as a whole...a choice that would allow me to function as a mom of two infants and be able to function as a wife and home maker at the same time....
In the end, Phillie had the worst type of reflux a baby could have. Even if I had struggled to "make it work", I would have had to stop because the only way to avoid surgery for her reflux was a switch to AR formula and giving her the strongest reflux meds a doctor could prescribe an infant in a rather large dose.
So...why am I bringing this up? Why the long preamble to share my story (especially because it may be TMI for some people...and for that I apologize)?
In the last few weeks, I've had several friends voice their intention to stop breast feeding for one reason or another and I have been truly sickened and saddened to watch them go through much of what I did...
Comments from well meaning "friends" shaming them for their decision, begging them to reconsider...or even their own statements saying that they felt like complete total and udder failures for making the decision to stop... emotionally pained that their child easily took a bottle and slept well for the first time since they came home from the hospital.
I understand that a few years ago, the statistics on breast feeding were grim and more and more moms were opting to bottle feed...I understand that ideally, you want to be able to breast feed because for the first 6 months it allows the baby a chance to get extra antibodies from mom to help keep them healthy...
but I also understand that we don't live in a perfect world...and things don't always work the same way for everyone...
WHY then are we allowing ourselves to be shamed for making decisions that work best for our families as moms? Why are we allowing ourselves to be shamed, to feel shame and guilt, when we bravely, openly admit that something just won't work for us? Why do we shame someone else or try to guilt them into going against what they know is right in their hearts?
I know the breast feeding debate is just another facet of the "mommy wars"...but let's get real...Do you get a medal for making it work? No...you don't. Yes, some statistics somewhere say that breast fed babies are healthier and don't have ear infections...blah blah blah...
Both of my kids were mostly formula fed. Neither has ever had an ear infection in their life so far and the only illness we've ever dealt with was RSV in the winter of 2012...which was running rampant and MANY kids got it...
Yes, you don't want to ignore data, but you also shouldn't ignore your heart.
You are NOT less of a mother if you don't breast feed. You are not less of a mother if you can't breast feed...
What kind of a message does that send to adoptive mothers who have no other choice but formula?
What kind of message does that send to mothers who anatomically have issues that prevent them from breast feeding?
Immediately, when well meaning people ask me about my breast feeding experience and I say that I stopped early, there are looks of condescension and the conversation quickly moves on...
I do not deserve to be vilified for making a choice that worked best for MY family.
My friends in the last few weeks that have had to stop for various reasons don't deserve to be vilified either. They made a noble effort. Their choice to stop was a choice made out of love. A choice that allowed them to be the best mother that they could be for ALL of their children, and the best wife they could be for their husband.
We need to end the culture of shaming that occurs around breast feeding on BOTH ends. People complain all the time that they don't get tolerance to breast feed in public... Well, here is my complaint that I don't receive tolerance for having to make the tough choice not to breast feed because nature has decided to work against me...
Why can't we all just get along and admit that everyone is the best mom they can be as long as they are trying as hard as they can to meet all the needs of their growing families?
Nobody is perfect. Nature didn't bless everyone...and nobody is exempt from having life throw you a curve ball.
Yes, by all means, we need to be supportive...but there is a fine line between supportive and condescending.
Yes, you can suggest that a woman thinking about stopping visit with a lactation consultant or a rep from the La Leche League, but you don't need to imply that if she chooses not to do so that she hasn't done all that she can do to try to make it work if she did try... you don't live her life, in her house...you don't see what her struggles are and you don't see the painstaking hours she has spent going back and forth about her decision.
Yes, you can suggest someone at least give it a try if they aren't planning to breast feed period...but the same logic applies...maybe she has a demanding job and she knows that, while legally they have to give her breaks to pump, its just not practical...Maybe she wants her husband/partner to be more involved and feels that sharing the feeding duties is a good way to encourage that bonding? You don't fully know her heart, her thoughts, or her situation.
To my friends that breast feed, I love you! You are amazing! Congratulations on being able to make it work. I am so excited for you and your family.
To my friends that don't, I love you! You are amazing! Congratulations on being able to make a decision that works best for you and your family! I am excited for you too.
To my friends contemplating giving up because its just not working. You are amazing! Look at you try! There is NO SHAME in stopping if its just not working. You are your own best gauge about whether or not you've tried all you can, and its completely your choice. Fortunately, your baby doesn't have to starve because there are nutrient filled options and you can work to find the one that works best for your baby and their digestive tract. You're not a bad mom, or a monster for considering it. If you decide to soldier on, I support you in that as well and hope that you find success quickly.
I saw a meme on Facebook the other day that I loved...it said something to the effect of:
I breast fed, I bottle fed, and it didn't matter because they all ended up eating the same french fries off the floor of my minivan and was like "thanks for cleaning"....
In the end, kids are still going to be kids.
The ultimate gauge of what kind of mom you are, good or bad, is going to rely heavily on what they think, and I can tell you that 99.9% of kids think their mom is the best mom ever no matter what...
Take comfort in that.
As I get ready to have another baby and contemplate whether or not I am going to attempt to breast feed again, I think about that often.
She isn't going to remember that I breast fed her, but she is going to remember the time I spent with her and my attitude.
If the best mom I can be is one that doesn't breast feed because I know I need to sleep, or I know nature hasn't exactly blessed me in that department, or I'm sick of getting mastitis every month without fail, or they have teeth and are biting me and I can't get them to stop no matter what I do...then I am okay with that.
I would rather enjoy my kids than stress over one aspect of their upbringing for months, making myself sick, tired and exhausted.
The only medals for motherhood are the ones we give ourselves in our own minds. We all have a journey to travel as mothers. We all have choices to make. We shouldn't shame or make one another feel guilty for making different choices because that is all they are: different choices for different families who lead different lives.
Hugs and loves until next time, darlings.
The day I spent there was a whirlwind and a lot of fun to watch. A woman laboring invited me to witness her birth, I got to help in the nursery giving new babies their first "baths", it was a great day...except for one little blip that really bothered me and stayed with me.
There was a young mother getting ready to leave the hospital that day with her baby. I was sitting at the nurses station having a chat with the nurse I'd been shadowing in the nursery asking questions required for my shadow project and another nurse approached.
"The girl in Room 312 is going home in a few minutes...and she is still REFUSING to breast feed. Can you believe it?!" she announced incredulously to the nurses seated at the station.
another nurse that had joined in on my Q&A session spoke up and said:
"Alright, sounds like we need to have another chat."
I then watched as the nurse I'd been shadowing, and three other nurses entered into this girls room and BULLIED her about not wanting to breast feed.
She had her reasons. She was a single mom who worked in a male dominated environment and knew that pumping wasn't going to be a very good option once she went back to work because there wasn't much time to stop and take breaks to do it. She knew legally she had rights to take breaks to pump, but she would rather not have to worry about the hassle of it all.
To me, this made sense...but the nurses kept pushing, bullying, SHAMING her for not being a good mom and doing what was "best" for her baby.
This exchange stuck with me throughout the years.
I understood the importance of breastfeeding. I understood what the baby would be getting, but I didn't see why it was such a big deal that someone DIDN'T breast feed for valid reasons...how did that make them a "bad mom" (yes, the words "bad mom" were used by those nurses that day) if they were trying to do what worked best for their family and personal situation.
Then, my time to be a mother came.
I had planned on everything being as natural as possible. I didn't want an epidural, I didn't want Pitocin, I wanted to experience everything...
I naively spent hours writing a detailed birthing plan that I gave my midwife and handed in at the hospital when I pre-registered.
Of course, I was planning on breast feeding...it was natural. It was what I was supposed to do...I had no reason not to.
Then, the Little Diva came over a month early...the birthing plan I had made so painstakingly was null and void. My water had broken, but my body wasn't contracting and I was at high risk for infection...enter the Pitocin drip...Forget about attempting to breast feed within the first hour after birth- Faith was rushed to the NICU before I even had a chance to see her little face with respiratory issues. She ended up on CPAP for the first 8 hours of her life....
Then, the school of hard knocks really began.
There were so many things that I wasn't prepared for...that nobody had told me.
Since I had said I was breast feeding, the nurses hadn't fed Faith at all. I had hemmorhaged and couldn't walk or stand for the first 8 hours after birth because I was on the cusp of needing a transfusion. I couldn't go see her until late the night after I delivered her. Since she was on CPAP they couldn't feed her yet, so they told me they would bring call me in after they could get her on a canula later that night.
Nobody came.
The next morning, a sweet nurse asked if I was ever going to try to feed my baby.
I had been pumping all night trying to get food for them to feed her through a dropper and I wasn't producing ANYTHING.
Nobody had told me that there were different sizes of suction cups for breast pumps, and being well endowed, my awesome pump had turned my nipples to hamburger because the suction cup was too small...
There was problem number 1.
The lactation consultant and nurses banded together, got me the right size suction cups, and encouraged me to keep going....Still...nothing.
Finally, one sweet nurse said we could try to see about latching since Faith was on the nasal canula instead of CPAP, hoping that maybe it would get me to produce to have the natural stimulation.
Again, my well endowed nature worked against me. My breasts were too big to fit into Faith's mouth with a good latch. Every moment we tried again and again to make it work was painful torture with blisters and scabs opening up...and my baby wasn't getting anything.
The idea of a traumatic birth delaying my production was brought up. One nurse brought me a strange device that you put formula into and it attached to your bra, then a long tube extended down the breast. The baby would still try to latch, but would suck the formula out of the tube until I could start producing milk.
I was still too large to fit into Faith's mouth and the addition of the tube was awkward and frustrating.
Again, I was told I just needed to keep at it.
Faith wasn't eating enough to go home. Finally, in desperation I asked one of the nurses if I could just try to give her a bottle. I was exhausted. I had hemmorhaged, I had been up all night for 2 nights pumping trying to follow the instructions of the lactation consultant and inside the NICU trying to make this breast feeding thing work, and I just wanted to jump over the last hurdle to get my baby home.
The nurse gave me a shpeel about nipple confusion, and I told her I didn't care, I knew she wasn't getting what she needed because we were focusing too much on the breast feeding aspect of things. Sure enough, she devoured a full 30 mL bottle of formula...shocking the nurses...and slept for the next hours straight... the first sleep I'd gotten since I'd entered the hospital almost 3 days before.
I still would attempt to breast feed and then, after we would fail at yet another attempt, I would top her off with a bottle.
Sure enough, she was able to come home after 4 days instead of after 2 weeks like they had originally thought...all because she was able to eat like she needed to and wanted to...
I went home and continued my crusade. My poor breasts were broken, bleeding, painful to the touch and swollen all the time. I finally started producing, and decided to give up on latching. I was getting almost no sleep in my attempts to get her to latch and it wasn't successful because she couldn't get a good enough latch to get anything out. It also turned out that my little early bird baby was a voracious eater. No matter how much I produced, I was always behind and had to top her off with formula.
Things did get a little better...I went from NO sleep to maybe an hour and a half in a 24 hour period... My body and my baby were completely out of sync. I would just finish pumping, and she would want to eat, which would work out at first, but then, while we was STARVING, she took forever to eat. I would lay her down almost 2 hours later, and I would need to pump again...and the cycle would start over.
Finally, in desperation to produce more milk so I could be a "good mom" and stop having to top her off with formula, I followed the instructions of a lactation consultant and purchased the herbs that were supposed to increase your milk supply...
BAD IDEA...
I AND my baby ended up covered in hives- we were allergic to one or all of them. A call to the doctor revealed that I would have to throw out any milk I'd produced since starting the herbs and that I would have to continue to throw out anything I pumped for the next week to be sure they were out of my system...
Anyone who said there is no reason to cry over spilled milk never had to dump out six 30 mL bottles full of breast milk and face the idea of having to throw out everything they worked to pump after that for a week...
Tired, broken, in pain...at that point, after 3 weeks of trying to make it work, I decided to stop breast feeding. It just wasn't going to work.
I already felt bad enough...I knew formula was going to be an extra expense, I knew that breast milk was what was going to be "best" for my baby because that is what everyone had pounded into my head...and of course, when I reached out to fellow mommy friends, I was met with another obstacle...SHAME...so much SHAME.
I was being selfish. It would get better. I could make it work if I really wanted to, I just wasn't trying hard enough. Had I called my local La Leche League? They could help give me more pointers. If not, I most certainly hadn't done EVERYTHING I could do. I just COULDN'T stop...PERISH THE THOUGHT! My declaration that I was giving up after 3 weeks of hell for my own sanity, so I could be a better mom, so I could enjoy my baby, was akin to having killed a baby seal on national television to the people that I thought were my friends...
Fortunately, I had a supportive family and husband who had watched me struggle through the last three weeks and were completely on board and helpful in any way they could be.
I decided to ignore the nay sayers and detach myself from them for a while, and focus on learning to enjoy my baby and finding a way to get caught up on sleep so I could feel like a normally functioning human again...
A breast exam by my midwife at my 6 week post partum check up revealed that my breast anatomy is actually slightly askew. I was told that no matter what it would likely always take longer for me to produce anything and I would likely have difficulty producing period.
When I found out a few months later that Phillie had surprised us and was on her way, I was dreading my decision...I didn't know what I was going to do.
I definitely didn't want a repeat of what had happened with Faith, and the realization that I would have a 10 month old AND a newborn to take care of weighed heavily.
My older sister was an amazing voice of reason. She calmed me as best as she could when the subject came up. She said to just try and see what happened and that I knew better where my breaking point was going to be this time...that I was prepared to deal with the public opinion because I'd been through it if I decided it just wasn't going to work.
The day came. Phillie arrived. I learned from my previous experience. There was no birth plan. No expectations. After going through 4 weeks of contractions that weren't causing any change, I was scheduled for an induction at 39 weeks ON THE DOT.
Everything went smoothly. I didn't tear, didn't hemmorhage...and Phillie slept through the entire first night of her life (she had a large head and probably a very large headache. The nurses said to not be surprised if she didn't stir since she was probably sleeping off the pain as the swelling in her head went down.)
I had also learned to say that I was going to do "both" when it came to breast or bottle. Of course, I was met with a shpeel about nipple confusion, but the nurses grudgingly brought some bottles of formula in for me to use should the need arise.
I attempted to get Phillie to latch...and, again, we had the same problem...her mouth was too small and I was too large...and of course, there was nothing coming out...
Since Phillie was eager to try to latch, I would try to get as good a latch as I could and let her suckle until frustration of not being satiated would settle in, and then switch to the bottle. I had figured that this would be better than being up all night trying to pump every 45 minutes.
My last day in the hospital, I had a knock at the door. In walked the lactation consultant...smug, and very proud of herself she announced, " I hear you say you're going to do both breast AND bottle...well, that just isn't going to work. I'm here to help you because you NEED to breast feed and breast feed only..."
I sat in shock for a moment.
Finally I said, "If you have any extra tips, I will happily take them. I just know what my body will and won't do. I don't even have colostrum right now. I'm letting the baby latch as best as I can to stimulate production but I know she is going to need a bottle at the end if I don't want her to starve to death."
The lactation consultant walked towards me, "That is just ridiculous. You have something. You HAVE to have SOMETHING."
She moved my baby down on the bed, and quickly reached out and grabbed my nipple, squeezing as HARD as she could for what felt like an eternity...squeezing every which way to try to get some colostrum to come out and determined to prove to this lesser individual (me) that she was dead wrong...she didn't even ask for my permission to touch me.
Finally, after the shock and horror wore off I asked her to stop and she said, "Hmmm...I guess you don't have anything...well, let's work on that latch then so we can be sure that you're stimulating production the RIGHT way." she said very condescendingly.
I showed her what I was doing. A technique the lactation consultant I'd had with Faith taught me in order to try to encourage the baby to get the nipple and as much of the surrounding skin as possible in an attempt to get a good latch.
"Oh, NO NO NO! That is ALL wrong."
She then proceeded to try to show me a very awkward, very ineffective way to get a good latch that wasn't going to work with my well endowed status.
"There," she said, so proud of herself, "Isn't that better?"
"No, actually, its worse. She has all nipple and no surrounding skin. At least she had some skin in her mouth when I was doing it the way they taught me with my first." I said, eager to get a little of my own back since this woman's obvious aim was to humiliate and shame me into submission...
She then proceeded to try again, each latch getting worse and worse. Finally, she reached out and grabbed my breast again, this time doing the EXACT SAME THING I had done.
"That's what I was doing already." I said.
"Well, " she said, "YOU can't do it because you don't have the vantage point that I do. It will be more effective if I do it and you keep practicing that technique I have been trying to teach you. Right now, I just want to get this baby latched." She said smugly.
"How is that?"
"Mmmm, better." I lied...it felt exactly the same as it had when I had done it...but I just wanted this woman OUT of my room.
She got up and said, "Well, keep at it...and I don't think you should use the bottle. You never know when you'll start to get something in and I would hate for there to be nipple confusion keeping you from being successful..." followed by a shpeel about why formula was so evil and bad and breast milk was so superior...
We came home from the hospital that evening.
Upon seeing me walk up the stairs to my apartment, Faith saw me and started to wail and scream. She hadn't seen me in 2 1/2 days...and, right on cue, Phillie let out a banshee roar to let me know she was hungry.
I had a screaming baby in a car seat on the floor and a screaming baby in my arms that just wanted to snuggle her mamma...
I handed Faith to my mom, took Phillie back to the bedroom for some privacy and then proceeded to have a panic attack...
My mother, knowing something wasn't right, had handed Faith off and joined me in my bedroom.
I was struggling. Wrestling with guilt and shame over the very idea that I wouldn't want to try to MAKE this work...breast feeding was natural. It was something that I was supposed to be able to do. I was a big fat failure..
Lactation Consultant lady had succeeded. I was feeling fully ashamed for my "selfish" thoughts.
My mother stroked my back and held my screaming infant. After a bit, she took Phillie out of the room and asked my mother in law to make a bottle and feed her and returned to me...shaking, in tears, unable to breathe or move...
and then she said, "Brittany, you have to ask yourself this question: Is breast feeding more important than being the best mom you can be to BOTH of your kids. If you're going to have a break down, I think you know the answer to that and you shouldn't feel guilty. It just doesn't work for some women and that is okay. You need to be the best mom and wife that you can be and if you're too focused on this one aspect of it, then you're going to miss everything that matters."
As she spoke, I calmed and I realized how right she was. Yes, nutritionally, breast milk was best, but emotionally, physically, I was going to be a wreck fighting to MAKE it happen for one child, and in the process I was going to miss out on time that my other child needed, that my husband needed. I couldn't spend weeks taxed and worried about making this work. Nature had put me at a disadvantage, but it didn't make me less of a mother...or even a bad mom. My baby would still be fed, diapered, bathed, and loved. It didn't matter what was in her tummy as long as she was healthy.
And with that, I dried my tears and decided to stop feeling guilty, to stop letting all the other voices shame me. It was MY choice and I was making the best choice I could make for my family as a whole...a choice that would allow me to function as a mom of two infants and be able to function as a wife and home maker at the same time....
In the end, Phillie had the worst type of reflux a baby could have. Even if I had struggled to "make it work", I would have had to stop because the only way to avoid surgery for her reflux was a switch to AR formula and giving her the strongest reflux meds a doctor could prescribe an infant in a rather large dose.
So...why am I bringing this up? Why the long preamble to share my story (especially because it may be TMI for some people...and for that I apologize)?
In the last few weeks, I've had several friends voice their intention to stop breast feeding for one reason or another and I have been truly sickened and saddened to watch them go through much of what I did...
Comments from well meaning "friends" shaming them for their decision, begging them to reconsider...or even their own statements saying that they felt like complete total and udder failures for making the decision to stop... emotionally pained that their child easily took a bottle and slept well for the first time since they came home from the hospital.
I understand that a few years ago, the statistics on breast feeding were grim and more and more moms were opting to bottle feed...I understand that ideally, you want to be able to breast feed because for the first 6 months it allows the baby a chance to get extra antibodies from mom to help keep them healthy...
but I also understand that we don't live in a perfect world...and things don't always work the same way for everyone...
WHY then are we allowing ourselves to be shamed for making decisions that work best for our families as moms? Why are we allowing ourselves to be shamed, to feel shame and guilt, when we bravely, openly admit that something just won't work for us? Why do we shame someone else or try to guilt them into going against what they know is right in their hearts?
I know the breast feeding debate is just another facet of the "mommy wars"...but let's get real...Do you get a medal for making it work? No...you don't. Yes, some statistics somewhere say that breast fed babies are healthier and don't have ear infections...blah blah blah...
Both of my kids were mostly formula fed. Neither has ever had an ear infection in their life so far and the only illness we've ever dealt with was RSV in the winter of 2012...which was running rampant and MANY kids got it...
Yes, you don't want to ignore data, but you also shouldn't ignore your heart.
You are NOT less of a mother if you don't breast feed. You are not less of a mother if you can't breast feed...
What kind of a message does that send to adoptive mothers who have no other choice but formula?
What kind of message does that send to mothers who anatomically have issues that prevent them from breast feeding?
Immediately, when well meaning people ask me about my breast feeding experience and I say that I stopped early, there are looks of condescension and the conversation quickly moves on...
I do not deserve to be vilified for making a choice that worked best for MY family.
My friends in the last few weeks that have had to stop for various reasons don't deserve to be vilified either. They made a noble effort. Their choice to stop was a choice made out of love. A choice that allowed them to be the best mother that they could be for ALL of their children, and the best wife they could be for their husband.
We need to end the culture of shaming that occurs around breast feeding on BOTH ends. People complain all the time that they don't get tolerance to breast feed in public... Well, here is my complaint that I don't receive tolerance for having to make the tough choice not to breast feed because nature has decided to work against me...
Why can't we all just get along and admit that everyone is the best mom they can be as long as they are trying as hard as they can to meet all the needs of their growing families?
Nobody is perfect. Nature didn't bless everyone...and nobody is exempt from having life throw you a curve ball.
Yes, by all means, we need to be supportive...but there is a fine line between supportive and condescending.
Yes, you can suggest that a woman thinking about stopping visit with a lactation consultant or a rep from the La Leche League, but you don't need to imply that if she chooses not to do so that she hasn't done all that she can do to try to make it work if she did try... you don't live her life, in her house...you don't see what her struggles are and you don't see the painstaking hours she has spent going back and forth about her decision.
Yes, you can suggest someone at least give it a try if they aren't planning to breast feed period...but the same logic applies...maybe she has a demanding job and she knows that, while legally they have to give her breaks to pump, its just not practical...Maybe she wants her husband/partner to be more involved and feels that sharing the feeding duties is a good way to encourage that bonding? You don't fully know her heart, her thoughts, or her situation.
To my friends that breast feed, I love you! You are amazing! Congratulations on being able to make it work. I am so excited for you and your family.
To my friends that don't, I love you! You are amazing! Congratulations on being able to make a decision that works best for you and your family! I am excited for you too.
To my friends contemplating giving up because its just not working. You are amazing! Look at you try! There is NO SHAME in stopping if its just not working. You are your own best gauge about whether or not you've tried all you can, and its completely your choice. Fortunately, your baby doesn't have to starve because there are nutrient filled options and you can work to find the one that works best for your baby and their digestive tract. You're not a bad mom, or a monster for considering it. If you decide to soldier on, I support you in that as well and hope that you find success quickly.
I saw a meme on Facebook the other day that I loved...it said something to the effect of:
I breast fed, I bottle fed, and it didn't matter because they all ended up eating the same french fries off the floor of my minivan and was like "thanks for cleaning"....
In the end, kids are still going to be kids.
The ultimate gauge of what kind of mom you are, good or bad, is going to rely heavily on what they think, and I can tell you that 99.9% of kids think their mom is the best mom ever no matter what...
Take comfort in that.
As I get ready to have another baby and contemplate whether or not I am going to attempt to breast feed again, I think about that often.
She isn't going to remember that I breast fed her, but she is going to remember the time I spent with her and my attitude.
If the best mom I can be is one that doesn't breast feed because I know I need to sleep, or I know nature hasn't exactly blessed me in that department, or I'm sick of getting mastitis every month without fail, or they have teeth and are biting me and I can't get them to stop no matter what I do...then I am okay with that.
I would rather enjoy my kids than stress over one aspect of their upbringing for months, making myself sick, tired and exhausted.
The only medals for motherhood are the ones we give ourselves in our own minds. We all have a journey to travel as mothers. We all have choices to make. We shouldn't shame or make one another feel guilty for making different choices because that is all they are: different choices for different families who lead different lives.
Hugs and loves until next time, darlings.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Love is an Open Door
I walked into my OB's office to sit down for what will now be a weekly ritual of waiting once a week for an ultrasound and a quick visit to hear "Everything is good." until the baby is born in a few weeks.
This week's appointment was earlier than my appointments normally are and what I walked into seemed somewhat shocking....I checked in, sat down and started doing a little people watching and realized that the faces I was looking at were MUCH younger...in my opinion too young. The waiting room as a hodge podge of young mothers around my age and teenage girls either accompanied by their mother, their baby daddy, or both.
Of course, since people watching is one of my favorite things to do, I sat...I observed and I pondered what I was witnessing.
The girls all appeared to be clean cut, wholesome cheerleader types. They were dressed well, their hair perfectly coiffed. Mothers fussed next to them with paperwork while the girls rolled their eyes and rubbed their growing bellys...but the boys were the most shocking sight...
Greasy, oily ballcap covered hair, jeans and t-shirts with holes... in many cases making fun of largely pregnant women waddle back and forth from the check in desk....
Hardly Prince Charming.
As I watched one girl chastise her "baby daddy" for not showering after whatever athletic practice he'd come from, and listened to her worry out loud about how her mother would react when she got there later when she got off work before the appointment, I wondered to myself:
"Oh, sweetheart! WHY?!? Why would you let THAT touch you in the most intimate ways that you can be touched?" What made these greasy, disgusting, OBVIOUSLY immature goofballs so appealing?
I then began to ruminate on a conversation I had with my husband a few weeks ago.
We were watching Frozen for the umpteenth time with our girls (we've probably watched it at least once a day since it came out on video, but quite frankly, my husband and I find a new layer to discuss every time we watch it.)
My favorite song came on. "Love is an Open Door".
Jeff remarked, "You know, its rather ironic that that saddest song in this whole movie has the peppiest beat."
I was taken a back..."This song is NOT sad! How could you even think that?" I asked.
He sat back and smirked a bit (that smirk that tells me he is happy to have a deep conversation about something...a smirk I love and find awfully attractive.)
"The words aren't inherently sad." He said. "This song is exactly right. Love SHOULD be an open door." He paused for a minute and then looked at me, "This is the saddest song in the whole movie because its true and the way it should be, but one of them is lying through their teeth as they sing it."
Clever, clever Disney.
I spent years in college, listening to single friends complain about how Disney has given them a false sense of what romance should be...there have been studies and papers written trying to demonstrate the harmful effects of "Prince Charming Syndrome."
Don't get me wrong. I believe it exists in some ways...but that is a thought for another day.
What does Disney do? They write a heroine character who deals with what EVERY girl is faced with at one point in her life...
A frog that turns out to be a frog... a guy that tells you everything he knows you WANT to hear in order to get everything he WANTS before disposing of you.
Anna spends the whole movie insisting that what she has is "true love", ignoring the concerns of family (Elsa) and friends (Christoff) when the reality is that she hasn't really had a chance to assess the character of her "Prince Charming" to be sure he's everything he should be to make her happy and that she is everything that he needs and not just a notch on his belt... She decides to jump in and give it her all because she is driven by her desire to have companionship and be loved...She wants SOMETHING,ANYTHING to be different from the life she is living. She sees love as her ticket out.
What makes the fake "Prince Charming"with his pretty words so appealing? The idea of getting something different...the idea of finally being SEEN...
I see Facebook memes all the time about what we should be "teaching" our daughters.While that advice is all well and good...HOW?
Disney shows that answer too... Anna is deprived of TIME. She is left to her own devices because she seems happy and content, even though deep down she is miserable.
Yes, you can tell your daughter to wait for a man that truly respects her, you can tell her that she is worth more, but what are you doing to PROVE IT?
Are you giving her your time or are you depending on "things" to make up for the lack of time you have with her? Do you tell her she is beautiful and valued every day or do you belittle her and bring up EVERY TINY MISTAKE she makes? Do you SHOW her that you value her by asking what in her life is important to her and supporting her- not just FINANCIALLY...do you SHOW UP? Even if its the art fair, science fair, making it to the school play to watch her (even if she is just in the chorus or only painted sets), going to the football game to watch her cheer? It doesn't take much to reorganize your priorities... it may seem like a lot, and it may be a pain in the butt...but did you become a parent to just open your wallet every time they want something or to nurture a new generation with guidance- to help them navigate life and avoid the mistakes that you made?
Do you know her friends? Have you bothered to meet the parents of her friends? Do you show you care by setting boundaries? (Yes, giving a curfew and being awake to wait for her to get home is a way that you can show her how valuable she is to you... who knows, she may even tell you about her date, the party, or the school function she just got back from if you'd give her a chance...)
Elsa spent her days in a room,locked away from her sister. She thought that avoiding time with her to work on herself was the best course of action, but it ultimately almost led to her sister's destruction.
We need to TEACH our daughters that they are important, valuable, special, and loved regardless of the tiny mistakes they make, but we need to SHOW them every day...if we SHOW them, they will be able to FEEL it. Once they feel it from us, from their siblings, they will be able to model that in the other relationships in their lives. They will be able to recognize an unhealthy, toxic relationship, they will be able to have better self esteem because they won't be relying on JUST the attitudes of their peers to make them feel valued and important.
Once they can do this- a fake "Prince Charming"...the "Frogs" that lie through their teeth in order to get what they want will be obvious to her. She won't waste her time (and if she does, she won't waste it for long) because she won't equate love with popularity or sex (like society tells her she should)...
I won't lie. I wanted to be popular in school. It was hard to watch my older sister, who seemed perfect, have it "all". She got asked to every date dance, she had boyfriends... I, on the other hand, didn't get asked on my first date until commencement my senior year, and even then, it was just a friend who asked because he didn't want me to be home alone...
Yes, I relented in my "not popular status"...but you know what kept me out of trouble? (believe me, I could have found it if I wanted to...) I had a mom who was there for EVERYTHING. She was always available to listen to me...even if she was in the middle of something important, she would drop everything to listen to my teenage woes. She would REALLY listen, she would give valuable advice or help me assess situations so that I could change something.
When I was little, before his death, my real dad took his weekends to take us out on "father daughter dates" and "father son dates".... Sometimes we did things he wanted to do (like go to the driving range or golf course, but he always found a way to help us feel involved, special, and like he cared about our success and failure as much as he did his as he played his 18 holes or used his wood to drive a bucket of balls.) and other times, he would let us pick. He may have been busy, but once he was home from work, he was HOME. I can't tell you how many hours we spent snuggled up against him on the couch as he watched his favorite television show or how many hours he spent playing "cooking show" with us in the kitchen as he made our family meals... I never had to doubt that I was important to him. If he missed parent teacher conferences because of a work trip, he ALWAYS went to see the teacher on his own (even if mom had gone). He did everything he could to make up absences to us by giving us his time later to make up for it.
My step father would take time off of work to come to school plays, to come support us at cheerleading tournaments, speech and drama tournaments, choir concerts...He was always ready with a big hug if we'd had a bad day (he still is). He was a firm shoulder to cry on.
We didn't have everything we wanted...I have stories of times when my step dad was unemployed for MONTHS and we were down to the last pack of ramen in the food storage before he got another job... but through it all, we had everything we needed... I may not have worn name brand clothes, or fancy makeup from the counter at the mall...but EVERY MORNING my mom and dad would complement me. They would specifically tell me something that made me beautiful or radiant that day... because of this, I didn't feel so alone in my "unpopular" status... I knew that at the end of the school day I was going to go home to a sweet loving mother and father...that I had their support NO MATTER WHAT. I made my fair share of mistakes, but they always made sure that the punishment fit the crime... they were fair and they helped me to see, amid the punishment, that I was BETTER than that through gentle loving ways. I knew where my boundaries were, I knew that I would disappoint them if I crossed that line, but I knew that they would never be too harsh or unforgiving.
In the end, Anna almost loses it all because she realizes almost too late that Hans isn't her Prince Charming...her mistake has been made and it seems as if there is no way to make it better. The damage is done and undoable...she finds hope in the love of a friend, but the ultimate saving grace comes through the love of family- through HER love for her family...she had known what true love was all along, she just wasn't able to see it... she had been blinded by years of solitude.
As I looked around my doctor's office, I quietly contemplated how sad it was that this room almost full of teenage girls wasn't the problem...it was a symptom.
May my daughters be able to learn from the story of Anna...May I as a PARENT be able to learn from the story of Anna...May they remember that a "Prince Charming" isn't the beat all end all of happily ever after...and may I remember that its my job to not only TEACH but SHOW through my actions what true love is so they can feel it every day of their lives...so they can reach their potential...and someday they will hopefully meet a real "Prince Charming" and be able to recognize it as they let their actions speak louder than their words.
Love is an OPEN door...Is yours locked or do you only leave it open a crack? Leave it wide open. You never know what the person on the other side is truly missing out on until you start giving of yourself.
Hugs and loves until next time, darlings...and thanks, Disney, for the reminder.
This week's appointment was earlier than my appointments normally are and what I walked into seemed somewhat shocking....I checked in, sat down and started doing a little people watching and realized that the faces I was looking at were MUCH younger...in my opinion too young. The waiting room as a hodge podge of young mothers around my age and teenage girls either accompanied by their mother, their baby daddy, or both.
Of course, since people watching is one of my favorite things to do, I sat...I observed and I pondered what I was witnessing.
The girls all appeared to be clean cut, wholesome cheerleader types. They were dressed well, their hair perfectly coiffed. Mothers fussed next to them with paperwork while the girls rolled their eyes and rubbed their growing bellys...but the boys were the most shocking sight...
Greasy, oily ballcap covered hair, jeans and t-shirts with holes... in many cases making fun of largely pregnant women waddle back and forth from the check in desk....
Hardly Prince Charming.
As I watched one girl chastise her "baby daddy" for not showering after whatever athletic practice he'd come from, and listened to her worry out loud about how her mother would react when she got there later when she got off work before the appointment, I wondered to myself:
"Oh, sweetheart! WHY?!? Why would you let THAT touch you in the most intimate ways that you can be touched?" What made these greasy, disgusting, OBVIOUSLY immature goofballs so appealing?
I then began to ruminate on a conversation I had with my husband a few weeks ago.
We were watching Frozen for the umpteenth time with our girls (we've probably watched it at least once a day since it came out on video, but quite frankly, my husband and I find a new layer to discuss every time we watch it.)
My favorite song came on. "Love is an Open Door".
Jeff remarked, "You know, its rather ironic that that saddest song in this whole movie has the peppiest beat."
I was taken a back..."This song is NOT sad! How could you even think that?" I asked.
He sat back and smirked a bit (that smirk that tells me he is happy to have a deep conversation about something...a smirk I love and find awfully attractive.)
"The words aren't inherently sad." He said. "This song is exactly right. Love SHOULD be an open door." He paused for a minute and then looked at me, "This is the saddest song in the whole movie because its true and the way it should be, but one of them is lying through their teeth as they sing it."
Clever, clever Disney.
I spent years in college, listening to single friends complain about how Disney has given them a false sense of what romance should be...there have been studies and papers written trying to demonstrate the harmful effects of "Prince Charming Syndrome."
Don't get me wrong. I believe it exists in some ways...but that is a thought for another day.
What does Disney do? They write a heroine character who deals with what EVERY girl is faced with at one point in her life...
A frog that turns out to be a frog... a guy that tells you everything he knows you WANT to hear in order to get everything he WANTS before disposing of you.
Anna spends the whole movie insisting that what she has is "true love", ignoring the concerns of family (Elsa) and friends (Christoff) when the reality is that she hasn't really had a chance to assess the character of her "Prince Charming" to be sure he's everything he should be to make her happy and that she is everything that he needs and not just a notch on his belt... She decides to jump in and give it her all because she is driven by her desire to have companionship and be loved...She wants SOMETHING,ANYTHING to be different from the life she is living. She sees love as her ticket out.
What makes the fake "Prince Charming"with his pretty words so appealing? The idea of getting something different...the idea of finally being SEEN...
I see Facebook memes all the time about what we should be "teaching" our daughters.While that advice is all well and good...HOW?
Disney shows that answer too... Anna is deprived of TIME. She is left to her own devices because she seems happy and content, even though deep down she is miserable.
Yes, you can tell your daughter to wait for a man that truly respects her, you can tell her that she is worth more, but what are you doing to PROVE IT?
Are you giving her your time or are you depending on "things" to make up for the lack of time you have with her? Do you tell her she is beautiful and valued every day or do you belittle her and bring up EVERY TINY MISTAKE she makes? Do you SHOW her that you value her by asking what in her life is important to her and supporting her- not just FINANCIALLY...do you SHOW UP? Even if its the art fair, science fair, making it to the school play to watch her (even if she is just in the chorus or only painted sets), going to the football game to watch her cheer? It doesn't take much to reorganize your priorities... it may seem like a lot, and it may be a pain in the butt...but did you become a parent to just open your wallet every time they want something or to nurture a new generation with guidance- to help them navigate life and avoid the mistakes that you made?
Do you know her friends? Have you bothered to meet the parents of her friends? Do you show you care by setting boundaries? (Yes, giving a curfew and being awake to wait for her to get home is a way that you can show her how valuable she is to you... who knows, she may even tell you about her date, the party, or the school function she just got back from if you'd give her a chance...)
Elsa spent her days in a room,locked away from her sister. She thought that avoiding time with her to work on herself was the best course of action, but it ultimately almost led to her sister's destruction.
We need to TEACH our daughters that they are important, valuable, special, and loved regardless of the tiny mistakes they make, but we need to SHOW them every day...if we SHOW them, they will be able to FEEL it. Once they feel it from us, from their siblings, they will be able to model that in the other relationships in their lives. They will be able to recognize an unhealthy, toxic relationship, they will be able to have better self esteem because they won't be relying on JUST the attitudes of their peers to make them feel valued and important.
Once they can do this- a fake "Prince Charming"...the "Frogs" that lie through their teeth in order to get what they want will be obvious to her. She won't waste her time (and if she does, she won't waste it for long) because she won't equate love with popularity or sex (like society tells her she should)...
I won't lie. I wanted to be popular in school. It was hard to watch my older sister, who seemed perfect, have it "all". She got asked to every date dance, she had boyfriends... I, on the other hand, didn't get asked on my first date until commencement my senior year, and even then, it was just a friend who asked because he didn't want me to be home alone...
Yes, I relented in my "not popular status"...but you know what kept me out of trouble? (believe me, I could have found it if I wanted to...) I had a mom who was there for EVERYTHING. She was always available to listen to me...even if she was in the middle of something important, she would drop everything to listen to my teenage woes. She would REALLY listen, she would give valuable advice or help me assess situations so that I could change something.
When I was little, before his death, my real dad took his weekends to take us out on "father daughter dates" and "father son dates".... Sometimes we did things he wanted to do (like go to the driving range or golf course, but he always found a way to help us feel involved, special, and like he cared about our success and failure as much as he did his as he played his 18 holes or used his wood to drive a bucket of balls.) and other times, he would let us pick. He may have been busy, but once he was home from work, he was HOME. I can't tell you how many hours we spent snuggled up against him on the couch as he watched his favorite television show or how many hours he spent playing "cooking show" with us in the kitchen as he made our family meals... I never had to doubt that I was important to him. If he missed parent teacher conferences because of a work trip, he ALWAYS went to see the teacher on his own (even if mom had gone). He did everything he could to make up absences to us by giving us his time later to make up for it.
My step father would take time off of work to come to school plays, to come support us at cheerleading tournaments, speech and drama tournaments, choir concerts...He was always ready with a big hug if we'd had a bad day (he still is). He was a firm shoulder to cry on.
We didn't have everything we wanted...I have stories of times when my step dad was unemployed for MONTHS and we were down to the last pack of ramen in the food storage before he got another job... but through it all, we had everything we needed... I may not have worn name brand clothes, or fancy makeup from the counter at the mall...but EVERY MORNING my mom and dad would complement me. They would specifically tell me something that made me beautiful or radiant that day... because of this, I didn't feel so alone in my "unpopular" status... I knew that at the end of the school day I was going to go home to a sweet loving mother and father...that I had their support NO MATTER WHAT. I made my fair share of mistakes, but they always made sure that the punishment fit the crime... they were fair and they helped me to see, amid the punishment, that I was BETTER than that through gentle loving ways. I knew where my boundaries were, I knew that I would disappoint them if I crossed that line, but I knew that they would never be too harsh or unforgiving.
In the end, Anna almost loses it all because she realizes almost too late that Hans isn't her Prince Charming...her mistake has been made and it seems as if there is no way to make it better. The damage is done and undoable...she finds hope in the love of a friend, but the ultimate saving grace comes through the love of family- through HER love for her family...she had known what true love was all along, she just wasn't able to see it... she had been blinded by years of solitude.
As I looked around my doctor's office, I quietly contemplated how sad it was that this room almost full of teenage girls wasn't the problem...it was a symptom.
May my daughters be able to learn from the story of Anna...May I as a PARENT be able to learn from the story of Anna...May they remember that a "Prince Charming" isn't the beat all end all of happily ever after...and may I remember that its my job to not only TEACH but SHOW through my actions what true love is so they can feel it every day of their lives...so they can reach their potential...and someday they will hopefully meet a real "Prince Charming" and be able to recognize it as they let their actions speak louder than their words.
Love is an OPEN door...Is yours locked or do you only leave it open a crack? Leave it wide open. You never know what the person on the other side is truly missing out on until you start giving of yourself.
Hugs and loves until next time, darlings...and thanks, Disney, for the reminder.
Monday, May 19, 2014
Slowly but Surely
Sorry I've been sporatic lately with my posts. Sadly, life has taken over a bit in the Nielson household (once again...) and I haven't really had time to formulate thoughts that I've been wanting to share.
I've been having contractions for the last 2-3 weeks, and last week at my appointment, the doc put me on bed rest (because bed rest is TOTALLY possible with two toddlers, one of whom has little to no communication skills and the other whom has hit the "terrible twos" early)
When you add to that the fact that it has been 6 months since Faith's last round of testings so they have to update everything to keep her services on point, let's just say things have been interesting.
The testing process has been easier this time, but its frustrating that it seems like people still feel like I need to be treated with "kid gloves" when it comes to saying that Faith hasn't made the kind of progress they would have hoped.
I am well aware...its okay to say that she is still "severely delayed"...it doesn't hurt my feelings or make me mad or sad...
You see, using the sage advice of our speech therapist in Wyoming, I am content. (Baby steps are still steps...)
No- she may not be using simple words like "drink/juice", "snack", or even calling me mamma or her dad "daddy", but I can look back to where we were 6 months ago and see that things ARE better...
To someone on the outside looking in, I can see how it would be nerve wracking to have to tell someone that the tests aren't showing much change. Everyone wants a miracle. Everyone wants Faith to wake up one morning and magically decide to talk. I will openly admit to having those thoughts some days (when things are really hard and I'm at the end of my rope.) but miracles don't have to be HUGE or completely life altering all the time.
What has changed in 6 months?
Faith is making better eye contact. We still have our struggles, but she has started to figure out that her non-verbal cues aren't going to cut it and that she has to look at me while making whatever sound signifies what she wants in order to be successful in getting it. She has the capacity to learn and adapt- that is HUGE! I've seen and read of parents that aren't even sure about that when it comes to their kids on the spectrum. How blessed are we to know that she can pick up on a behavior and, after prompting (sometimes lots and lots of prompting) successfully do what is required.
Faith engages mom and dad to play. We will be sitting on the couch and the next thing we know there are blocks in our lap, or a pen and pad for drawing. We have to get her to look at us and make some kind of sound to get what she wants (which can be frustrating) but she is showing she WANTS us to be a part of her world. She wants to let us in. She wants to be around us. Considering that 6 months ago, I couldn't get her to look at me, let alone get her to play with me doing something she enjoys, this too is a miraculous shift.
She lets me hug her. Sure, she wiggles her way out of my arms sometimes, but considering that 6 months ago any and all physical contact had to be initiated by her or we'd have a melt down of epic proportions, we have made leaps and bounds of strides in the right direction. There is nothing more heartbreaking than not being able to physically show your child how much you love them and to not have them seem to want to physically show you any affection. I can't tell you how many times a week I have to choke back tears because Faith has crawled into my lap, given me a kiss, and just laid there, allowing herself to "be" with me. 6 months ago, I wondered if that would ever happen.
She is slowly learning to engage her sister. There are only one or two games that she has made up that she will play with her.One involves finding one of daddy's church ties, handing Phillie one end and taking turns dragging each other across the room. The OT says she likely does this because she needs the deep sensory input that the dragging sensation brings and she knows that Phillie will be able to drag her lightly enough that it won't hurt her.... but at least she is bringing Phillie into her world.
A few weeks ago, I happened upon this scene in the living room after cleaning up breakfast.
I admit to sobbing like a baby as I took this picture. They happily sat watching Frozen just like this for nearly 30 minutes. You could see Faith wasn't 100% comfortable because she was "flicking" her hands the whole time, but she didn't move, she didn't try to push her sister off. She let Phillie lay in her lap and show her affection.
Yes, she may still be non-verbal...she may still not know how to match pictures when prompted...she may not know how to play with ALL of the toys kids her age should know how to play with... but what she is slowly learning and figuring out are incredible!
I definitely have my days...days when I pray and wish and pray some more that she will just learn to talk already, that she will just eat normally, that she would be able to make friends and play with her cousins and sister...
but on those days, I try to remember where we've been.
The journey of life isn't just about the starting point and the place you'd like to end up, its about enjoying the stops along the way- even when they're tough and you want to keep moving to the end destination instead of stopping.
Right now, I'm going to embrace this "stop" on our route to seeing Faith's true potential. Yes, my child is Autistic. Yes, she has severe delays,but she has potential and I have faith that as we travel together I will be directed along the paths I need to go to help her reach her best "end goal point" in this life...
and ultimately, that is what this life is about. We all have potential, we all have an optimal "end destination."
I am blessed to know that even if that earthly "ending destination" isn't where I saw Faith when I first held her in my arms when she was 8 hours old, potential NEVER ends. Her delays and disabilities will not last forever. She will be blessed with a perfect body at the coming of our Savior. She will meet the endless potential she has...and she will have more compassion and knowledge than I think any of us can understand in this life.
She may not be the world's version of "perfect", but to her Father in Heaven, she is perfect just the way she is. She has been given the opportunity to learn lessons that few of us will be able to fathom until the next life...and I have been given the opportunity to learn from her. How lucky am I?
Yes, she is still severely delayed. Yes, she isn't like other 3 year old kids...but she is MY 3 year old. She is a part of my journey. She is teaching me more than I ever imagined I would learn in this life.
As long as I'm doing all I can do, the Lord will make up the difference.
He has been all along. Slowly but surely.
Hugs and Loves until next time, darlings!
I've been having contractions for the last 2-3 weeks, and last week at my appointment, the doc put me on bed rest (because bed rest is TOTALLY possible with two toddlers, one of whom has little to no communication skills and the other whom has hit the "terrible twos" early)
When you add to that the fact that it has been 6 months since Faith's last round of testings so they have to update everything to keep her services on point, let's just say things have been interesting.
The testing process has been easier this time, but its frustrating that it seems like people still feel like I need to be treated with "kid gloves" when it comes to saying that Faith hasn't made the kind of progress they would have hoped.
I am well aware...its okay to say that she is still "severely delayed"...it doesn't hurt my feelings or make me mad or sad...
You see, using the sage advice of our speech therapist in Wyoming, I am content. (Baby steps are still steps...)
No- she may not be using simple words like "drink/juice", "snack", or even calling me mamma or her dad "daddy", but I can look back to where we were 6 months ago and see that things ARE better...
To someone on the outside looking in, I can see how it would be nerve wracking to have to tell someone that the tests aren't showing much change. Everyone wants a miracle. Everyone wants Faith to wake up one morning and magically decide to talk. I will openly admit to having those thoughts some days (when things are really hard and I'm at the end of my rope.) but miracles don't have to be HUGE or completely life altering all the time.
What has changed in 6 months?
Faith is making better eye contact. We still have our struggles, but she has started to figure out that her non-verbal cues aren't going to cut it and that she has to look at me while making whatever sound signifies what she wants in order to be successful in getting it. She has the capacity to learn and adapt- that is HUGE! I've seen and read of parents that aren't even sure about that when it comes to their kids on the spectrum. How blessed are we to know that she can pick up on a behavior and, after prompting (sometimes lots and lots of prompting) successfully do what is required.
Faith engages mom and dad to play. We will be sitting on the couch and the next thing we know there are blocks in our lap, or a pen and pad for drawing. We have to get her to look at us and make some kind of sound to get what she wants (which can be frustrating) but she is showing she WANTS us to be a part of her world. She wants to let us in. She wants to be around us. Considering that 6 months ago, I couldn't get her to look at me, let alone get her to play with me doing something she enjoys, this too is a miraculous shift.
She lets me hug her. Sure, she wiggles her way out of my arms sometimes, but considering that 6 months ago any and all physical contact had to be initiated by her or we'd have a melt down of epic proportions, we have made leaps and bounds of strides in the right direction. There is nothing more heartbreaking than not being able to physically show your child how much you love them and to not have them seem to want to physically show you any affection. I can't tell you how many times a week I have to choke back tears because Faith has crawled into my lap, given me a kiss, and just laid there, allowing herself to "be" with me. 6 months ago, I wondered if that would ever happen.
She is slowly learning to engage her sister. There are only one or two games that she has made up that she will play with her.One involves finding one of daddy's church ties, handing Phillie one end and taking turns dragging each other across the room. The OT says she likely does this because she needs the deep sensory input that the dragging sensation brings and she knows that Phillie will be able to drag her lightly enough that it won't hurt her.... but at least she is bringing Phillie into her world.
A few weeks ago, I happened upon this scene in the living room after cleaning up breakfast.
Yes, she may still be non-verbal...she may still not know how to match pictures when prompted...she may not know how to play with ALL of the toys kids her age should know how to play with... but what she is slowly learning and figuring out are incredible!
I definitely have my days...days when I pray and wish and pray some more that she will just learn to talk already, that she will just eat normally, that she would be able to make friends and play with her cousins and sister...
but on those days, I try to remember where we've been.
The journey of life isn't just about the starting point and the place you'd like to end up, its about enjoying the stops along the way- even when they're tough and you want to keep moving to the end destination instead of stopping.
Right now, I'm going to embrace this "stop" on our route to seeing Faith's true potential. Yes, my child is Autistic. Yes, she has severe delays,but she has potential and I have faith that as we travel together I will be directed along the paths I need to go to help her reach her best "end goal point" in this life...
and ultimately, that is what this life is about. We all have potential, we all have an optimal "end destination."
I am blessed to know that even if that earthly "ending destination" isn't where I saw Faith when I first held her in my arms when she was 8 hours old, potential NEVER ends. Her delays and disabilities will not last forever. She will be blessed with a perfect body at the coming of our Savior. She will meet the endless potential she has...and she will have more compassion and knowledge than I think any of us can understand in this life.
She may not be the world's version of "perfect", but to her Father in Heaven, she is perfect just the way she is. She has been given the opportunity to learn lessons that few of us will be able to fathom until the next life...and I have been given the opportunity to learn from her. How lucky am I?
Yes, she is still severely delayed. Yes, she isn't like other 3 year old kids...but she is MY 3 year old. She is a part of my journey. She is teaching me more than I ever imagined I would learn in this life.
As long as I'm doing all I can do, the Lord will make up the difference.
He has been all along. Slowly but surely.
Hugs and Loves until next time, darlings!
Thursday, May 8, 2014
What Ifs?
Sorry...
I know its been a while...Did you miss me?
Truth be told there have been a million things I've wanted to blog about but between the joys of pre-term labor and handling two toddlers, its been hard to find time to sit down and focus my thoughts, but after yesterday, I KNOW I need to sit down and focus my thoughts to work through some things...
Yesterday, we had a meeting with the Head Start Preschool coordinator for our school district about Faith's transition from Up to 3 to Head Start and all that it would entail.
To be perfectly honest, going into it, I had very few concerns or problems. I have been excited to think about the opportunity of Faith going to preschool and getting some extra help and therapy with other kids present...
But it just goes to show how naive I am sometimes.
Considering what we've told her, and where Faith's previous scores from 6 months ago are (and considering that there hasn't been a considerable amount of change) the director said that she believes Faith will end up in the preschool and not doing therapy twice a week at one of the schools. That was fine, I was expecting her to say that...and then she mentioned the school bus...
The realization suddenly hit me.
They would be expecting me to put my baby on a bus, let an aid strap her in to a harness or seat belt on the bus, and trust that she would get there and back safely...
The anxiety wells up just as much now as it did yesterday.
Considering Faith's tendency to bolt, considering that I rarely spend time away from her because no one really knows how to handle her, considering that time I spend away from her has always been at home with a relative watching...this seems like an almost laughable and insurmountable task.
It just hadn't dawned on me that I wouldn't BE THERE...
She will spend 2-4 days a week from 9- noon away from me, alone... I have to trust a teacher, some aids, and a speech therapist to watch her while managing other kids with disabilities similar to hers or worse than hers...
We had taken a little tour and walked through an actual class in session. One little boy, completely immobile, was on a carpet with a teacher and the speech therapist working, and there were two aids with a group of about 8 kids sitting at a table...and the door was wide open (don't get me wrong,other teachers had their doors closed, but this one was WIDE OPEN)...
The thought of me not being there to watch her,to be sure she stays in the room, to be sure she stays in her seat and is staying on task...it TERRIFIES me...
What if the teacher leaves the door open and she slips away? What if she won't sit and do what is expected of her- she doesn't follow directions and we've been working really hard on getting her to meet the same expectations that other kids have to meet when we're in group settings, but we're SO FAR from being to the point where we can get her to without a struggle...
My baby will be all by herself, I won't be there to figure out how to end the melt down, I won't be there to praise her and help her... I haven't even been able to leave her alone in nursery without her being brought to me in melt down mode (with the exception being in our ward in Wyoming, and I believe that the only reason I was able to leave her was because I spent 3 months in there with her, getting her used to everyone)
I keep trying to remind myself that this will be good for her. She needs this experience. She needs to learn how to follow instructions from someone other than me, she needs to learn how to work better with other kids and socialize...
but all the "what ifs"and looking at where she is now, I sit here wondering how it will be possible for this to be successful....
I was having contractions last night and didn't get much sleep. All the worst case scenarios ran through my mind like a marathon of anxiety (since I really had nothing better to do than be worried...) I prayed and prayed and prayed over and over and over for her safety, for my anxiety to let up about it, for me to stop harping on it...
In the end...my daughter is aptly named. Her whole life has been an exercise in faith for me.
I know that faith conquers fear.
As the summer months pass, as we move forward and start the necessary testing for Head Start, I need to continue to pray that my faith will grow, that I will be able to see the baby steps forward that will start to put my mind at ease about sending her all by herself somewhere, that I will be able to develop faith in the teachers, aids, and therapists there to protect her from the world (and sometimes from herself) while teaching her the skills she so desperately needs.
I can't give her everything. I can't teach her everything. I know I need to let go and trust- trust that God will protect her, trust the education of these awesome special educators that have devoted their careers to kids like Faith, and trust that Faith will conquer her obstacles and be successful.
I know that, in the end, the anxiety will likely still be there. New and unknown journeys are always a little scary...but I am holding onto the hope that as I pray for the light to show the way, I will be able see little glimpses of how we're being prepared for this big step. I will be able to have my hope turned to faith as I act daily to try to help prepare my sweet baby girl and myself for this impending journey.
I know I have a loving Father in Heaven who will help see us through. I know he tests us to make us stronger. This is just one more test...its probably harder on this mamma than it will be on my sweet girl, but only time will tell.
In the end, God will drag you kicking and screaming from one blessing to the next if he has to. I'd rather not kick and scream and enjoy the ride, so I will look for the blessing in this anxiety, I will look for the blessings that come as we make the preparations for Faith to start her preschool journey, and I will continue to pray and allow this anxiety to draw me closer to my Father in Heaven.
In the end, it will be a good thing, but excuse me while I quietly sob to myself thinking about all the "what ifs" for a little while...
Hugs and loves until next time, darlings.
I know its been a while...Did you miss me?
Truth be told there have been a million things I've wanted to blog about but between the joys of pre-term labor and handling two toddlers, its been hard to find time to sit down and focus my thoughts, but after yesterday, I KNOW I need to sit down and focus my thoughts to work through some things...
Yesterday, we had a meeting with the Head Start Preschool coordinator for our school district about Faith's transition from Up to 3 to Head Start and all that it would entail.
To be perfectly honest, going into it, I had very few concerns or problems. I have been excited to think about the opportunity of Faith going to preschool and getting some extra help and therapy with other kids present...
But it just goes to show how naive I am sometimes.
Considering what we've told her, and where Faith's previous scores from 6 months ago are (and considering that there hasn't been a considerable amount of change) the director said that she believes Faith will end up in the preschool and not doing therapy twice a week at one of the schools. That was fine, I was expecting her to say that...and then she mentioned the school bus...
The realization suddenly hit me.
They would be expecting me to put my baby on a bus, let an aid strap her in to a harness or seat belt on the bus, and trust that she would get there and back safely...
The anxiety wells up just as much now as it did yesterday.
Considering Faith's tendency to bolt, considering that I rarely spend time away from her because no one really knows how to handle her, considering that time I spend away from her has always been at home with a relative watching...this seems like an almost laughable and insurmountable task.
It just hadn't dawned on me that I wouldn't BE THERE...
She will spend 2-4 days a week from 9- noon away from me, alone... I have to trust a teacher, some aids, and a speech therapist to watch her while managing other kids with disabilities similar to hers or worse than hers...
We had taken a little tour and walked through an actual class in session. One little boy, completely immobile, was on a carpet with a teacher and the speech therapist working, and there were two aids with a group of about 8 kids sitting at a table...and the door was wide open (don't get me wrong,other teachers had their doors closed, but this one was WIDE OPEN)...
The thought of me not being there to watch her,to be sure she stays in the room, to be sure she stays in her seat and is staying on task...it TERRIFIES me...
What if the teacher leaves the door open and she slips away? What if she won't sit and do what is expected of her- she doesn't follow directions and we've been working really hard on getting her to meet the same expectations that other kids have to meet when we're in group settings, but we're SO FAR from being to the point where we can get her to without a struggle...
My baby will be all by herself, I won't be there to figure out how to end the melt down, I won't be there to praise her and help her... I haven't even been able to leave her alone in nursery without her being brought to me in melt down mode (with the exception being in our ward in Wyoming, and I believe that the only reason I was able to leave her was because I spent 3 months in there with her, getting her used to everyone)
I keep trying to remind myself that this will be good for her. She needs this experience. She needs to learn how to follow instructions from someone other than me, she needs to learn how to work better with other kids and socialize...
but all the "what ifs"and looking at where she is now, I sit here wondering how it will be possible for this to be successful....
I was having contractions last night and didn't get much sleep. All the worst case scenarios ran through my mind like a marathon of anxiety (since I really had nothing better to do than be worried...) I prayed and prayed and prayed over and over and over for her safety, for my anxiety to let up about it, for me to stop harping on it...
In the end...my daughter is aptly named. Her whole life has been an exercise in faith for me.
I know that faith conquers fear.
As the summer months pass, as we move forward and start the necessary testing for Head Start, I need to continue to pray that my faith will grow, that I will be able to see the baby steps forward that will start to put my mind at ease about sending her all by herself somewhere, that I will be able to develop faith in the teachers, aids, and therapists there to protect her from the world (and sometimes from herself) while teaching her the skills she so desperately needs.
I can't give her everything. I can't teach her everything. I know I need to let go and trust- trust that God will protect her, trust the education of these awesome special educators that have devoted their careers to kids like Faith, and trust that Faith will conquer her obstacles and be successful.
I know that, in the end, the anxiety will likely still be there. New and unknown journeys are always a little scary...but I am holding onto the hope that as I pray for the light to show the way, I will be able see little glimpses of how we're being prepared for this big step. I will be able to have my hope turned to faith as I act daily to try to help prepare my sweet baby girl and myself for this impending journey.
I know I have a loving Father in Heaven who will help see us through. I know he tests us to make us stronger. This is just one more test...its probably harder on this mamma than it will be on my sweet girl, but only time will tell.
In the end, God will drag you kicking and screaming from one blessing to the next if he has to. I'd rather not kick and scream and enjoy the ride, so I will look for the blessing in this anxiety, I will look for the blessings that come as we make the preparations for Faith to start her preschool journey, and I will continue to pray and allow this anxiety to draw me closer to my Father in Heaven.
In the end, it will be a good thing, but excuse me while I quietly sob to myself thinking about all the "what ifs" for a little while...
Hugs and loves until next time, darlings.
Friday, April 18, 2014
An Easter Lesson for Young Children
My husband and I were officially called and sustained by members of our church congregation last Sunday to be in charge of the Nursery in our ward.
The Nursery is a class in our Primary organization that teaches and cares for the children of our congregation that are ages 18 months to 3 years of age.
Our ward already had a GREAT Nursery in place. They haven't had leaders in months, but the workers have worked hard to maintain the structure that the previous Nursery Leaders implemented. The only thing that our Bishopric felt was lacking and asked us to pray about changing was the implementation of a short gospel lesson for the little ones so they can start learning and having gospel principles reinforced by more than just what they get from their parents at home. We absolutely agreed that this needed to happen and made a plan to make it happen.
I still need to get the Nursery workers' names and phone numbers so we can start a lesson rotation, but was very excited and happy to come up with a lesson plan for this Sunday. I was planning on starting with lesson one of the manual that the church has published for use in the Nursery class, but, realizing it was Easter, decided to start with one of the supplementary lessons for Easter. I liked certain ideas from the lesson but after praying felt strongly that the most important part of the lesson that needed to be conveyed was the Easter story and WHY we celebrate Easter.
Having had education classes for elementary and pre-K students, I knew that the lesson had to be presented in a hands on way that would keep their attention. What better way than telling the story in a simplified version with a story board and allowing the kids to take turns adding characters to the story?
I searched the internet for Easter clip art to use and came up feeling wanting...I just couldn't find pictures that I felt were worth printing. So...I decided to draw upon my strengths and do something I haven't done in AGES...I decided to freehand some of my favorite artwork inspired by the Precious Moments universe. I haven't had a chance to draw anything like this in a while, and while it was difficult with two toddlers running around, I found time to write my story, poem, draw characters to be added to the board and create the board.
Since I went to all this work, I decided it would be worth sharing...Maybe you're preparing your lesson for a group of small children for Easter Sunday? Maybe you're trying to find a fun way to present Easter and the concept of the Risen Christ to your small children in a way that involves the bible but doesn't leave their minds to wander? Well, my work may very well be your gain.
I am going to attach the text for the story/poem that I wrote to use and the jpg files of the characters. I drew a large tomb on a piece of poster board (I am attaching a picture of the poster board for you to see) as the background for the story. If you don't have art skills the Behold Your Little Ones lesson manual has a jpg you can print. It won't be large, but I'm sure you could blow it up somehow and glue it to the board to use as part of your lesson. The link for that can be found HERE . Also, I didn't freehand a Precious Moments version of Christ. I have a 5x7 picture of Christ that I am opting to use instead, so you will need to find an image of Christ you'd like to use. Fortunately, the Behold your Little Ones link also provides a drawing of Christ that you can print out.
Here is the story/poem:
Here is a jpg of the board that I drew. You may be able to print this off and use it...but if not, I gave you another option above. :)
And, finally, what the board COULD look like after the kids have finished adding the characters to it.
We have a LARGE nursery class (17 kids that are in our ward boundaries and several visitors weekly) You can choose to use as many or few of the board characters as you'd like. I just wanted to be sure that we would have enough for every child in the Nursery to be able to have a part in putting the picture together.
The Nursery is a class in our Primary organization that teaches and cares for the children of our congregation that are ages 18 months to 3 years of age.
Our ward already had a GREAT Nursery in place. They haven't had leaders in months, but the workers have worked hard to maintain the structure that the previous Nursery Leaders implemented. The only thing that our Bishopric felt was lacking and asked us to pray about changing was the implementation of a short gospel lesson for the little ones so they can start learning and having gospel principles reinforced by more than just what they get from their parents at home. We absolutely agreed that this needed to happen and made a plan to make it happen.
I still need to get the Nursery workers' names and phone numbers so we can start a lesson rotation, but was very excited and happy to come up with a lesson plan for this Sunday. I was planning on starting with lesson one of the manual that the church has published for use in the Nursery class, but, realizing it was Easter, decided to start with one of the supplementary lessons for Easter. I liked certain ideas from the lesson but after praying felt strongly that the most important part of the lesson that needed to be conveyed was the Easter story and WHY we celebrate Easter.
Having had education classes for elementary and pre-K students, I knew that the lesson had to be presented in a hands on way that would keep their attention. What better way than telling the story in a simplified version with a story board and allowing the kids to take turns adding characters to the story?
I searched the internet for Easter clip art to use and came up feeling wanting...I just couldn't find pictures that I felt were worth printing. So...I decided to draw upon my strengths and do something I haven't done in AGES...I decided to freehand some of my favorite artwork inspired by the Precious Moments universe. I haven't had a chance to draw anything like this in a while, and while it was difficult with two toddlers running around, I found time to write my story, poem, draw characters to be added to the board and create the board.
Since I went to all this work, I decided it would be worth sharing...Maybe you're preparing your lesson for a group of small children for Easter Sunday? Maybe you're trying to find a fun way to present Easter and the concept of the Risen Christ to your small children in a way that involves the bible but doesn't leave their minds to wander? Well, my work may very well be your gain.
I am going to attach the text for the story/poem that I wrote to use and the jpg files of the characters. I drew a large tomb on a piece of poster board (I am attaching a picture of the poster board for you to see) as the background for the story. If you don't have art skills the Behold Your Little Ones lesson manual has a jpg you can print. It won't be large, but I'm sure you could blow it up somehow and glue it to the board to use as part of your lesson. The link for that can be found HERE . Also, I didn't freehand a Precious Moments version of Christ. I have a 5x7 picture of Christ that I am opting to use instead, so you will need to find an image of Christ you'd like to use. Fortunately, the Behold your Little Ones link also provides a drawing of Christ that you can print out.
Here is the story/poem:
Three days after Jesus died, Mary, one of Jesus’ friends,
and her friends went to his tomb to finish cleaning his body.
Two angels were there. They had moved the stone away from
the entrance to the tomb. They said that Jesus wasn’t there, he had risen.
Mary’s friends left, but Mary was very sad that Jesus’ body
was gone and didn’t know if she could believe he was really alive. She started to look for Jesus all around the
garden where the tomb was.
The sun was shining in the sky, but where was Jesus?
The clouds were floating way up high, but where was Jesus?
The trees were towering in the sky, but where was Jesus?
The butterflies were flying by, but where was Jesus?
The flowers were growing from the ground, but where was
Jesus?
The bees were buzzing all around, but where was Jesus?
The birds were singing in the trees, but where was Jesus?
The squirrels were chasing around the bees, but where was
Jesus?
Let’s all look to see if we can help Mary find Jesus!
(after the kids look for a while have one of the nursery
leaders pull Jesus from behind their backs and hold him up, bringing him up
front)
Mary didn’t know it was Jesus at first. She thought it was a
gardener and asked him where Jesus’ body was so she could take him back to his
tomb. Jesus finally said her name, and she recognized his voice
(Nursery worker)Mary. (put Jesus on the board)
The prophecies had come true. He was alive! He had been
resurrected.
Mary fell to her knees and cried because she was so happy.
Because Jesus died for us, we can be forgiven of our sins
and because He was resurrected, we ALL get to be resurrected after we die and
live with Heavenly Father again in heaven. That is why we celebrate Easter.
That should make us all happy too!
and here are the jpgs of my freehand drawings. (P.S. Decided AFTER I colored them that I was going to upload this to the blog...I promise, I'm not trying to kill your color ink supply. If I decide to upload anything like this again, I will remember to wait to color it in until I've copied the drawings.)
And, finally, what the board COULD look like after the kids have finished adding the characters to it.
And...there you have it.
I know Christ lives. I know he suffered for me and by His grace, we are freed from the weight of our sins as long as we are willing to repent and draw nearer to Him. I know that He gave us the perfect example of how to live our lives and that if we draw upon His example and work to become more like him, we will slowly but surely be perfected. I know that because He lives we will live again, and through our works, will have the opportunity to dwell in His presence and the presence of our Father in Heaven, that we will become as they are: Gods with a perfect knowledge of the eternities. I know Christ loves us. I know God loves us. I know that they want us to return to them and that Christ wants to share His inheritance of eternal life with us. All we need to do is open the door. He is knocking. Let Him in.
Happy Easter.
Hugs and Loves until next time, darlings.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
