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And other observations at 19 weeks of my third (successful so far) pregnancy So I’ve never been pregnant on Mother’s Day before this year … isn’t that interesting? I got pregnant with Monkey at the end of July and she was born April 21. While I wasn’t pregnant with her on Mother’s Day, she was […]
I know how Mother’s Day is supposed to go in the United States. If you’re a mom, you’re supposed to get a relaxing day where (hopefully) your husband (or someone else) handles all the tedious and exhausting things about motherhood for the day (wiping butts, washing hands, preparing meals, haranguing naps) while you (the mom) get to kick back and enjoy all the fun stuff your kids do. Basically you get to be the dad for the day.
JOKING!
Seriously, I’m joking. My husband is a super awesome dad and definitely does his share of tedious kids’ stuff.
But, hopefully you do get to relax and enjoy the awesome stuff about your kids. Maybe get a little breakfast in bed, possibly a massage, some chocolates. And if you’re really lucky, a homemade craft that involves a lot of glue and dried legumes.
We do it up big here in the United States.
I don’t know how they celebrate Mother’s Day in other countries (although Wikipedia tells me many other countries do celebrate it), but I do know that for the majority of women in the world, Mother’s Day looks absolutely nothing like what it does for us in the States. According to the World Health Organization, every 90 seconds a woman dies from preventable causes related to pregnancy and child birth. Ninety-nine percent of these deaths occur in developing nations, predominantly in sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia. For every woman who dies in childbirth, another 30 women incur injuries and infections, which are often preventable. It’s well recognized that these numbers are often under reported.
Let that sink in for a minute.
I know I had some fears about dying during childbirth with my first two children. But only 16.6 women die in childbirth in the U.S. per 100,000 live births (#39 on the list, not great by any stretch compared to No. 1 Italy at 3.9) but can you imagine your risk being 95 times that!?
For these mothers in developing countries, their every day is about finding clean water and food for their children. They’re not concerned about whether they’re getting a massage; they’re concerned about basic survival.
In a very real way, the celebration of Mother’s Day is a first-world luxury.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with celebrating moms and giving moms a break. Lord knows, we’re (super)human and we could all use a break. But in case you want to do something just a little bit more, you might consider:
Participating in Bloggers for Birth Kits by donating $10 to purchase 5 clean birth kits for mothers in rural Papua New Guinea where 1 in 7 women die in childbirth. That’s it. It’s only $2 per kit and you could help save a mother and newborn baby’s life. You could make your own if you’re so inclined, or you can just donate.
Donating to Saving Mothers which aims to give women and their health care providers the tools they need to reduce maternal mortality and morbidity through public health initiatives. The organization currently has projects in Guatemala and Liberia. $10 purchases one hemorrhage kit and prevents maternal death from bleeding. $50 transports one woman to the hospital.
Get involved with Every Mother Counts, an organization founded by supermodel Christy Turlington-Burns. Christy hemorrhaged after the delivery of her first child and was fortunate enough to recover. She realized that for many women in the world, such an occurrence is a death sentence.
Every Mother Counts actually has a very comprehensive explanation of the problems with maternal health and mortality, including the five main barriers to care. They also have various options for helping.
All of these organizations have the same common cause: to reduce maternal mortality globally.
Or maybe you just want to give a boost to a mom you know who’s having a hard time, like Momastery just did. I know of a local family who recently lost absolutely everything in a house fire. If you’re interested in donating to them, contact me at jenovotny(at)gmail(dot)com.
Even $5 can make a difference in someone’s life.
Maybe for this Mother’s Day we can do a little more for our fellow mamas who could really use it.
Make yourself feel super awesome this Mother’s Day. It feels great.
What I do you cannot do; but what you do, I cannot do.
The needs are great, and none of us, including me, ever do great things.
But we can all do small things, with great love,
and together we can do something wonderful.
— Mother Theresa
1. What is your favorite color?
Orange and purple
2. What is your favorite toy?
Baby dolls and my strollers
3. What is your favorite fruit?
Strawberries
4. What is your favorite TV show?
Team Umizoomi
5. What is your favorite thing to eat for lunch?
Smashed potato (with butter, ham, cheese, peas and corn)
6. What is your favorite outfit?
Dresses!
7. What is your favorite game?
Candyland. And I want you to buy me a Dora game, too. And if you find any Team Umizoomi games
that is going to be super fun, because we love Team Umizoomi.
8. What is your favorite snack?
Cheetos and pretzels and goldfish and strawberries
9. What is your favorite animal?
Fishies
10. What is your favorite song?
Taylor Swift (Also, on a separate occasion she told me that she wants to play all the instruments that Taylor Swift can play: banjo, guitar and piano)
11. What is your favorite book?
A Team Umizoomi book or a Dora book
12. Who is your best friend?
Braelynn
13. What is your favorite cereal?
Reese’s Puffs
14. What is your favorite thing to do outside?
Swing
15. What is your favorite drink?
Chocolate milk
16. What is your favorite holiday?
Easter! And I love Christmas too.
17. What do you like to take to bed with you at night?
Petey and lovey
18. What is your favorite thing to eat for breakfast?
Pancakes! And strawberries.
19. What do you want for dinner on your birthday?
Hot dogs
20. What do you want to be when you grow up?
A mama and a girl fire fighter. Can you be three things when you grow up? Then I want to be a mama, and a girl fire fighter, and a teacher.
(sigh) I just love her so much. I’m so proud of the person she’s becoming.
Birthday morning surprise.
She was especially thrilled that the bike had a basket for a baby.
Totally spontaneous smile. Iconic.
Friends party at the Y!
Pure joy.
They love each other so much.
Happy Fourth Birthday, Monkey!! xxxxxxxxxxxxxooooooooooooooo
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So I’ve been a little hormonal lately. Sue me. I’m 14 weeks today. Bring on the second trimester, baby!! Anticipated due date is Oct. 5. All signs are healthy and positive. We are ready to be EXCITED. I feel like today is a huge turning point — the SECOND TRIMESTER! No more prometrium! We’ve turned […]
I tend to let my emotions rule my world. When I read, see or hear something really sad, whether real-life or fictional — i.e. spouses dying, children with terminal illnesses, child abuse, sexual assault, people battling with addiction — I sometimes can’t shake it for weeks. It stays on my brain. Sometimes I’ll even avoid reading or watching something because I know it will affect me for longer than I would like.
And thank God Extreme Makover Home Edition isn’t on the air anymore. Husband really liked that show and for the last several years I’ve refused to watch it with him. Within two minutes of the show starting I can’t stop crying. It’s just too sad.
I’ve always been an emotional person. I have high highs and low lows. I get really excited about things. My friends tell me that I’m always the first person they call with exciting news because they know I’ll be so excited for them.
I also take some things to heart more than I should. Is it possible to have too much empathy? It’s something that I’ve managed better as I’ve gotten older.
In my life today, I think my biggest challenge is not getting too emotionally caught up in certain aspects of motherhood. What mother doesn’t always want to do the “best” or “right” thing for their kids? After reflection, I think my subconscious fear is that one “mistake” or one single decision is going to impact my kids’ lives forever. As if I only have one shot. As if the one day (or 20 days over the course of their childhood) that I go out of my mind with anger is going to be their only memory of their childhood.
Honestly, it’s not a real fear; it’s not something I think about on a daily basis. But I think my personality and temperament of:
a) wanting to control
b) wanting to do everything “right,” and
c) getting overly emotionally invested,
Sometimes leads to this “all or nothing” subconscious fear.
So anyway. Not only am I realizing that this isn’t realistic, I’m also realizing I need to cut myself a break. There needs to be more of a margin for error (for me and the kids). We are human, after all. People get mad. Sometimes really mad. It’s not the norm in my household. I feel terrible, I apologize to my kids and we move on.
I need to just let it go instead of hanging onto it and feeling terrible for days.
In my last post I wrote about how frustrated I was with Bean and her typical terrible two behavior.
I was venting, and over-the-top, and being dramatic, and not at all objective because I was getting out the culmination of all my pent-up frustration over the last several months. And we had had a rough morning.
(I also was trying to be funny with my quip about my mental image of her “running away” from bad things like drugs, peer pressure, etc., when she’s quite literally running away from me because she doesn’t want to do things. I think it’s kind of funny to see her naked butt in my head.)
It’s not that I don’t trust my gut, or trust my instincts, sometimes we just need to vent. And sometimes another perspective is helpful.
Sometimes when you’re in the thick of things you lose sight of the overall perspective. The “can’t see the forest through the trees,” sort of thing. Being an emotional person, this is the type of thing I struggle with when it comes to myself — I can console another mom (or person) all day long, but then I’m really hard on myself.
You would think that with Bean being my second child I would remember that these are phases, and they pass. They just really suck while in you’re in them.
After the last post I had two friends share this message with me (“I Don’t Want to Raise a Good Child”) about raising spirited kids, and it was exactly what I needed to hear.
In particular, this part:
“I don’t know what mama needs to hear this today. But let me encourage you from the bottom of my heart with three simple mothering perspectives you must hang on to:
1. Don’t take too much credit for their good.
2. Don’t take too much credit for their bad.
3. Don’t try to raise a good child. Raise a God-following adult.
You have no idea how much this meant to me: “I don’t know what mama needs to hear this today.” I felt like God was speaking directly to me.
It’s exactly what I needed to hear.
Oh, and one more thing. If you haven’t been introduced to Momastery yet, please, let me introduce you. Because I started reading Momastery in January, and once again, I felt like it was God (via Glennon) speaking directly to me.
All four of these posts came in a span of one week. Every single one of them spoke to me.
I. LOVE. HER.
The greatest thing that I took away from her addiction post was that when you don’t know what else to do, pray to God and alternate between “Thank you” and “Help me.”
I think everyone can use that advice.
Another thing that was exactly what I needed to hear.
Lately, I feel like everything with Bean is an epic battle to the death. And obviously, there are no winners.
Here’s a typical scenario from our house in the last three weeks:
Morning
The mere mention of going to the bathroom and getting dressed sends Bean into a flailing tantrum complete with arm waving (and mostly unintentional) hitting, kicking, tears and screaming. We’re talking head thrown back, on the floor, ear-piercing screams.
Sometimes, she will willingly take off her clothes, but then when I suggest getting dressed, she just runs away. If I happen to grab her before she gets away from me (because I refuse to chase her), then the above tantrum ensues.
Bedtime
Most of the time Bean is all too happy to get into pajamas, but the tantrum inducer is when (gasp) her father, (God forbid) attempts to help her with getting ready for bed. Last night as I was brushing Monkey’s teeth and told Bean that daddy was going to help her, the above tantrum ensued. Same goes for helping her go to the bathroom, getting her pajamas on, washing her hands, you name it.
Mealtime
I made homemade waffles last weekend. They were dang delicious and so much easier than I remember. Especially now that my waffle iron is accessible and I learned not to overfill the darn thing. Bean loved them. But then she accidentally dropped one of her last two pieces on the floor. No biggie, right?
WRONG.
I picked it up and threw it away. Bad idea. Cue tantrum. Except a mealtime tantrum has the added bonus of Bean being strapped into a chair, thus able to fling her body back and forth and all around without falling out. It’s awesome.
I was stunned.
I explained to her that the waffle was dirty, but that it was okay because I would give her one of my waffle pieces.
Didn’t matter. She wasn’t hearing it. She wanted that dirty waffle piece back and there was nothing I could say or do to make her happy.
And generally, that’s how it goes.
The instant something happens that she doesn’t want (or the suggestion of something she doesn’t want to do), it’s the end. There’s zero ability to talk with her. There’s no communication. She just shuts down.
All of the wonderful parenting techniques that we employ with Monkey (all of the parenting articles I’ve been poring over), don’t really work.
And that is my biggest frustration. There’s just no communication. No opportunity for any of the above. The only thing that somewhat works is empathetically saying how I think she feels. “I know you’re mad, honey. I know you want to keep playing. I’m sorry that we have to get ready for bed.” But even if she stops to listen to me, she still doesn’t then cooperate.
The only time she wants to do something is when she can possibly beat her sister to it. Which honestly is unfair to Monkey because then Monkey’s always second. Or, if Monkey beats Bean, Bean still cries and has a tantrum. Good grief. I’m exhausted just thinking of all the tantrums.
I feel beaten down. I feel like I’ve just had it. I am pulling out all the tricks and it doesn’t make one damn bit of difference.
I don’t yell much. We don’t spank. We do use time-outs, although this Aha Parenting Web site advocates for doing time-ins (sitting with your child) instead of time-outs (which apparently make them feel isolated and alone with their feelings). I tried that this morning with Bean when she wouldn’t cooperate about getting dressed. She just laid in her bed (naked) and yelled at me to get out. I stayed anyway. I have no idea if it helped.
Up to this point we’ve been trying to follow Love and Logic parenting techniques (I say “trying” because we like the philosophy but we don’t always execute) which focuses a lot on empathy and consequences (as well as choices, routines/rituals, etc.). However, Aha Parenting advocates for not issuing punishments or consequences (unless they’re “natural” and not “parent-imposed” consequences) because when kids are acting their worst, that’s when they need you to love them the most.
Aha Parenting argues that when kids are dwaddling and being slow getting ready for bed, the last thing they need is for you to yank away stories or cuddle time as a consequence. But when we’re running out of time to get Bean to bed (and we KNOW she’s probably acting out from being tired), it seems like a natural consequence that if you’re not cooperating and you’re making things take longer, that you don’t get stories. It’s not even really a punishment! It’s not like we’re saying “No stories because you’re being sassy or because you hit your sister.” It’s a natural consequence. We ran out of time. I feel conflicted about this whole “consequence/punishment” thing.
I don’t really yell much. BUT, when pushed, I do raise my voice (not to a yell, but it’s raised), I do get a mean look on my face, I do lose the ability to negotiate and communicate and just start barking orders. Basically, I get angry and frustrated. I also say things I shouldn’t; things that I try not to say. And then I find myself still saying them: “Why do you have to be so uncooperative?” “I am so sick of this.” I know this is bad because I’m sending her the message that she, as a person, is bad.
Day after day, night after night, these are my interactions with my child. She knows that I’m frustrated. One of the things I remember from the Love & Logic CDs is that if you send your child the message that you can’t handle them, they’ll think, “Geez, I must really be bad if even my own parents can’t handle me,” and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. The kid acts worse and worse, and the parent is less and less able to get a handle on the situation. I’m afraid that’s going to happen.
I also feel like the frequency of these occurrences makes it more and more difficult for me to remain calm when they happen. I’m immediately on edge because I feel like I already know the outcome (major tantrum), and no amount of choices, or empathy, or quietly speaking to her, or whatever is going to help.
I feel like a failure. Not just because she’s not listening and cooperating. But because there’s no room for any negotiation, communication, education, discussion. Period.
Aha Parenting says “Kids who feel connected to their parents naturally want to please them,” and that:
“Defiance is always a relationship problem. If your child does not accept your direction (“I don’t care what you say, you can’t make me!”), it’s always an indication that the relationship is not strong enough to support the teaching. This happens to all of us from time to time. At that point, stop and think about how to strengthen the relationship, not how to make the child “mind.” Turning the situation into a power struggle will just deepen the rift between you.”
Since I seem to be engaged in a non-stop power struggle (epic battle to the death), obviously I’m not connected. Failure.
My child does not feel connected to me, she will think that I think she’s a whole lot of trouble and that she can’t be contained, therefore she will become increasingly troublesome, and basically I just ruined her chance at becoming a successful person, not to mention we don’t have a relationship.
I know this is extreme, but it’s my fear.
I am not used to this. I am not accustomed to encountering a problem that I can’t solve, even with repeated effort. Am I not trying hard enough?
Can anyone tell me they’ve been through this and have come out the other side with a happy, well-adjusted, still free-spirited but more reasonable child?
Will this get better? Will time (maturity with age) make this better? Will she become more reasonable so that I can actually employ these very useful techniques that seemed to work so well with Monkey? Am I ruining my child? Is she not connected to me?
I will also add that I think she’s definitely not getting enough sleep.
After getting through the difficulty of her wanting us to be in the room while she fell asleep and waking excessively at night (2-5 times every night), we’re now dealing with her early rising. She goes to bed beautifully now, but instead of sleeping until 7 a.m. like normal, her waking has gotten earlier and earlier. First it was 6:45 a.m. Then it was 6:30 a.m. The past two weeks it’s been 6 or 6:15. And today it was 5 freaking 40 A.M.!
She’s also started taking shorter naps. At least I feel like that’s more normal for her age — she just turned two, so I can’t really expect her to continue taking 2+ hour naps. An hour and a half is more in line, but sometimes it’s only an hour and 15 minutes, or like yesterday — 45 minutes! Between early waking and shortened naps, she is just not getting enough sleep.
And thirdly, her picky eating is at an all-time high. We trying our best to follow the advice of our pediatrician who tells us every time I express concern over her picky eating, “Your job is to prepare and serve healthy food. Her job is to eat it. If you start bribing, rewarding, coaxing or cajoling, you’re not doing your job.”
So, for the most part, we serve the food. Sometimes we’ll ask her to try one bite (she always refuses). But do you know how hard it is to serve your child a meal that has all the components of something they would like (or have eaten before) and have them push it away on sight, screaming and crying??? Or just start picking things off the plate saying “Yucky?” (Yes, I’m sure you do, because you’re probably a parent reading this). UUUUUGGGGGHHHH.
I bet Bean is down to a list of 20 things that she’ll readily and gladly eat, not including dessert, and only two of them belong to the fruit/vegetable category.
Since we don’t make separate meals, and since we nearly always give dessert (so as not to set up a good food/bad food paradigm), Elise gets a lot of yogurt for “dessert.”
Do all of these things mean anything together (lots of tantrums, not getting enough sleep and picky eating)? Am I missing something?
I have been praying. Praying that God will guide me, help me, direct me to the resources I need. I pray that he will let Bean see how much we love her and that he will open her heart to listen to us.
Believe me, I DO NOT want to crush Bean’s spirit. I do not want her to grow up believing that people who are bigger than her get to tell her what to do.
I get it that it’s a good thing that she isn’t going to do what she doesn’t want to do, just because someone else says so. I know that research shows that she will be “almost impervious to peer pressure.”
But in the meantime, I don’t know what else to do.
Aside from reading parenting articles, pouring out my feelings on this blog, asking for help, and praying, the only thing I can think to do is this:
Every time I see her naked butt running away from me I’m going to think, “She’s running away from drugs,” or “She’s running away from a stranger trying to harm her.”
Every time I see her flat-out refusing to do what I ask, I’m going to think, “She’s saying no to underage drinking,” or, “She’s saying no to teenage sex.”
At least that’s what I’m going with now.
But I’ll repeat my plea: Can anyone tell me they’ve been through this and have come out the other side with a happy, well-adjusted, still free-spirited but more reasonable child?
Will this get better? Will time (maturity with age) make this better? Will she become more reasonable so that I can actually employ these very useful techniques that seemed to work so well with Monkey? Am I ruining my child? Is she not connected to me?
It’s almost two weeks late, but I didn’t want to let my Bean’s second birthday go by unmarked.
She is such an interesting child. She is so determined. I think her biggest daily goal is to keep up with her big sister, and it doesn’t EVER occur to her that she won’t be able to do something that her big sister can do.
Whatever Monkey does, Bean does. When Monkey runs, Bean runs. When Monkey jumps, Bean jumps. When Monkey climbs, Bean climbs. When Monkey screams, Bean screams. One time Monkey jumped up in the air and Bean mimicked her so instantaneously that I couldn’t help but laugh.
A few weeks ago we went to a local indoor activity gym with a giant climbing obstacle. Bean ran right in there after Monkey and Monkey’s friend, and managed to climb up the first few obstacles by herself. Eventually the spaces between the levels got a little too tall for her legs and she cried while I looked on from the floor level. She wasn’t crying because she was scared though. She was crying because she was mad. Monkey had gotten so far ahead of her and she couldn’t keep up.
Monkey, bless her heart, came back and gave Bean a boost at each next level.
The girl has no fear.
This past weekend we went to the Kalahari Resort in Wisconsin Dells, which has a gigantic indoor water park. In the center of the park, was an expansive multi-level kids play area with slides as tall as 20 feet.
This is what it looked like.
Kalahari's Leopard's Lair. Bean scrambled to the top of this gigantic kids play area to go down those green and yellow slides you see on the left. (Copyright: Kalahari Resort)
We no more than walked over to it, and Bean was already making her way to the top. The very top. Like, I was literally running through this thing to keep up with her. She got all the way to the top, pushed past the line of 5-, 6, and 7-year-old kids waiting for the tallest slides, and stood expectantly in front of the lifeguard who nodded at her and motioned her over towards the yellow slide to which she casually walked over, sat down, and went. I got there just in time to see the lifeguard nodding at her (did he not see her push past all the other kids waiting in line??), and incredulously watched her go down like she had done it a hundred times instead of her first. I frantically started waving to Husband who was 20 feet below that she was on her way down. The pool at the bottom of the slide was only six inches deep, and the slides were okay for kids as young as her, but still! She just took off and didn’t wait for anyone’s approval or permission.
A little too brave for her own good, if you ask me.
She also followed her sister up this rope wall without any hesitation, and mastered it after the second attempt.
This is the rope net that Bean tackled as soon as Monkey approached it. (Copyright Kalahari Resort)
I think her favorite word is “Me!” As in, whatever Monkey says she wants to do, or we tell Monkey she can do, Bean is right there to echo “ME!” because she wants in too.
I think Bean will be the type of child who constantly is emulating her big sister. And given that Monkey is a natural leader, I think it will be a good thing. I feel very blessed that their “short” age gap (just under two years) has led them to be the best of friends. They’re always looking out for one another.
Bean remains loving and empathetic as she tends to her babies, and while she can be very cuddly and clingy, she won’t give up kisses and hugs when she’s in a stingy mood.
She has more interest in reading books (by herself), and still wants to color and draw like her big sister.
She’s never been a real big “entertainer,” like her sister, but we do notice her laughing and trying to make us laugh more often. I know that sounds weird, but she was never that baby who would just laugh and laugh at your silly antics. It was only six months ago that this was still her face du jour:
This was Bean's emotion du jour for the longest time - the pout; aka stink face
And she continues to challenge us in ways different from her sister. After reflecting for awhile, I think that Bean is more strong-willed than Monkey, but Monkey was no cake walk either. Monkey was the child who, when transitioned to a big girl bed, was an ABSOLUTE TERROR. Ev-er-y single night she would rip ALL of her clothes out of her drawers, scatter her books all over the room, and tear the diapers out of the box in her closet. Every night. FOR MONTHS. Bean has not done that even one single time. She mostly stays in her bed and the “worst” she’s done is gotten out of bed to read books.
Bean seems to have more of a desire to control things, have things her way, and is less willing to listen and cooperate than Monkey was at the same age. Maybe this is because she’s the second child and is constantly “keeping up” with her sister, rather than getting to choose things for herself. Maybe she wants to leave her own mark. She also seems to want to experiment with pushing the boundaries more than I recall Monkey doing. Latest case: after being potty trained for a month, she’s majorly regressed. After ruling out a bladder infection and constipation, her pediatrician and I think it boils down to peeing in her pants because she can. Because she wants to gauge our reaction. She wants control. I find it highly unlikely that she forgot her body’s cues because she still proactively asks to go to the bathroom for No. 2 and hasn’t had any poop accidents.
I have to say, that I may be putting on my rose-colored glasses when reminiscing about Monkey’s Terrible Twos. I mean, at the time I certainly remember thinking she was *extremely* challenging. I wonder now if I’m forgetting some of the most challenging parts, or if Bean really is more challenging; or, like I said, that they’re just challenging in different ways.
I’m hopeful that as her vocabulary is starting to expand, she’ll be more apt to communicate with us so we can reach compromises, rather than just throw fits and/or run away when we want her to do something.
One thing I know for sure — she is one smart kid.
Her pediatrician just reminded us this week that the traits we find most challenging — her stubbornness and desire to control, will translate into really good things later on. She definitely has a strong sense of self.
Finally, here’s a fun little thing I saw on Pinterest that I thought would be fun to do with the girls every year on their birthdays. Technically, you’re supposed to start when they turn 3, so Bean is a little young for this, but here goes:
20 Questions with Bean — Age 2
1. What is your favorite color? Pink
2. What is your favorite toy? Baby doll
3. What is your favorite fruit? Um. Nothing. The kid doesn’t eat fruit. She eats vegetables. Preferably green beans
4. What is your favorite TV show? Sesame Street
5. What is your favorite thing to eat for lunch? Mac and cheese
6. What is your favorite outfit? Nothing in particular, except she has to pick it out
7. What is your favorite game? Trouble (because she likes to push the bubble)
8. What is your favorite snack? Cheese, Goldfish crackers, pretzels
9. What is your favorite animal? Dogs
10. What is your favorite song? Mr. Bassman (Laurie Berkner)
11. What is your favorite book? Duck and Goose: How are you feeling? (she loves to make the “angry” and “happy” faces)
12. Who is your best friend? Monkey
13. What is your favorite cereal? None
14. What is your favorite thing to do outside? Climb, swing, slide (but without getting her hands dirty)
15. What is your favorite drink? Milk
16. What is your favorite holiday? Christmas?
17. What do you like to take to bed with you at night? Blanket, lovey and Curious George
18. What is your favorite thing to eat for breakfast? Eggs
19. What do you want for dinner on your birthday? Mac and cheese and green beans
20. What do you want to be when you grow up? TBD
So, about four weeks ago I promised that I would post some more thoughts about my miscarriage experiences along with some resources. Whoops. I don’t really know what happened. Life I guess. And, I honestly think that writing about my miscarriages was so cathartic and cleansing, that I just didn’t want to think about it anymore. I had gotten it out — my emotions, my feelings — I laid it all out there and it felt so good to move on, that I think subconsciously I didn’t really want to revisit the sadness again.
But in case this information is useful to you, here are a few more details.
First of all, and this is a big one, I NEVER KNEW that a woman could have chromosomal testing done on a miscarried baby. I never, ever, ever knew that. My original doctor NEVER mentioned it. And honestly, I can see why he wouldn’t mention it after the first miscarriage which was a considered a chemical pregnancy (just like my last one), because I couldn’t even have had any testing done at that point. And, for miscarriages before six weeks gestation, 70 percent are believed to be caused by chromosomal abnormalities.
But my second miscarriage, a baby who’s heartbeat we saw at six weeks and I didn’t miscarry until eight weeks? He never even mentioned it. Research varies, but typically if a heartbeat is detected on an ultrasound at six weeks gestation, the risk of miscarriage drops to 5-10 percent.
Instead, the only thing we discussed was my options for getting the baby out (it’s horrible to even remember; I’m cringing) — a D&C (basically surgery) or a pill that causes the uterus to contract and things happen naturally. At the time, I just really, really, really did not want to go to the hospital and leave without a baby. And, he encouraged the pill. So I did that and it happened at home. But here’s the deal — you can’t even do chromosomal testing unless you do a D&C because otherwise you’re basically losing what you would test at home. Testing never even came up in our conversation.
Second of all, my original doctor continually dismissed my concerns and fears. This is a red flag. At the time, while it made me uncomfortable that he just kept offering the same “It’s just bad luck,” “Relax,” and “Just keep trying,” (GAG) speeches, I didn’t know what to do about it. And, I trusted him, so I ignored the voice in my head that said, “Something does not seem right.” I didn’t know what else could be done for me, but it sincerely bothered me that my doctor didn’t seem to be taking it seriously.
After the first two losses, I had my successful (and very normal) pregnancy with Monkey, with my original doctor. I thought my losses were behind me.
Then in November 2008 (when Monkey was only nine months old) we had a happy accident and I discovered I was pregnant. When I went in for my six-week ultrasound, we couldn’t find the heartbeat. My doctor tried to reassure me that since the baby was measuring a little small that “I’m sure your dates are just a little off and it’s too soon to find a heartbeat.” My ass. I KNEW there was no way my dates were off. Sorry, I’m just not the girl whose dates are off. It’s the Type A in me. We scheduled an ultrasound for one week later. Again, no heartbeat, but there had been some growth. The doctor wasn’t ready to officially declare the pregnancy over — and I guess I don’t blame him because you don’t want to jump the gun on that sort of thing — but not finding the heartbeat when I was 7+ weeks pregnant? Game over. I had to wait yet one more week and one more ultrasound with no heartbeat and no growth this time, before we knew it officially was over.
Again he presented me with my options — D&C or pill. Again, he NEVER mentioned chromosomal testing, at which point I was having my THIRD LOSS. My SECOND loss past six weeks. And he even had the GALL to tell me AGAIN “You’re not at an increased chance of miscarriage until you’ve had three losses IN A ROW. And since you had a successful pregnancy in between your losses, you have the same chance of miscarriage as everyone else.” I was just in disbelief. Seriously buddy?
Since I had accidentally gotten pregnant that November, we waited until Monkey was a year old in April 2009 before trying again. That May I got pregnant with Bean.
Given my history, you would think that my doctor would want to see me sooner rather than later, right? Nope. When I called to make my appointment, my doctor’s schedule was full and he couldn’t see me until I would have already been close to 8 weeks pregnant, and forget about a six-week ultrasound to see the heartbeat. I just kept thinking to myself, “I probably won’t even be pregnant anymore by eight weeks!”
That was it! I was furious. I checked around with some friends, chose a doctor several of them said they liked, called that doctor’s office, spoke to his nurse, explained my history, and by the time I hung up the phone, the lab was expecting me for hormone testing.
Hormone testing? This was a completely new experience for me.
This new doctor was taking my history TOTALLY SERIOUSLY. In fact, his nurse told me that three miscarriages, whether they’re in a row or not, made me a “habitual aborter” (cue sucker punch to the gut). It didn’t exactly make me happy to hear her say that, but I knew that this practice was going to be taking a totally different approach.
At my first appointment with the new doctor we discussed my history and whether I had ever done any testing. He explained that since I was already pregnant, we couldn’t do any of the tests, but he did encourage me to do them afterward.
Not only did my original doctor discourage me from doing a full work up, but he didn’t even offer to do the hormone checks in early pregnancy to check to see if my levels were rising appropriately. It was through this hormone testing that my new doctor discovered that my progesterone level was initially good (28), but then dropped (26), which it’s not supposed to do. My new doctor proactively put me on Prometrium, a synthetic progesterone.
I can’t help but wonder if my second pregnancy when we initially found the heartbeat, but then I ended up miscarrying two weeks later, would have gone to term had I been on Prometrium.
Darci Klein, author of To Full Term, the book I referenced in my last post, includes a section entitled “What Every Woman Should Know.” I highly recommend reading the entire book, but this section in particular has actionable steps that women can take if they’re experienced recurrent loss, or even one loss later than the first trimester.
She emphatically recommends getting a detailed workup. Again, something that my original doctor would dismiss by saying, “Typically, we never turn anything up.” Well, statistics actually show that a detailed workup finds the cause of recurrent miscarriage 50% of the time. Fifty percent is a lot! If HALF of the people who have experienced recurrent losses could find out, wouldn’t that be worth it?
After Bean was born, these are tests I did at my doctor’s recommendation. It was a simple blood test:
I honestly don’t know what they all mean, but based on the tests listed in Klein’s book, this seems like a pretty comprehensive list. The tests turned up nothing unusual.
Here are some other resources I’ve found helpful:
http://www.tofullterm.com/whyloss.htm
http://www.americanpregnancy.org/pregnancycomplications/miscarriage.html
http://www.americanpregnancy.org/pregnancycomplications/earlyfetaldevelopment.htm
http://www.americanpregnancy.org/duringpregnancy/hcglevels.html
During the summer of 2011 I switched to a midwife in my doctor’s practice (not because I was looking for a “better” doctor, but because I heard rave reviews about this midwife’s bedside manner). So far, I’m super pleased with her, and she too, is taking my losses very seriously.
After this last miscarriage my midwife offered up a couple of other tests that we could try, including a homocysteine lab. An elevated level could indicate that I have a problem with clotting.
And, doing an enodmetrial biopsy on day 21 of my cycle. The biopsy can help determine if I have a luteal phase defect. The luteal phase is the second half of a woman’s menstrual cycle and my non-professional understanding is that if my body is not producing enough progesterone during the luteal phase then the lining of the uterus will not thicken enough to allow a fertilized egg to properly implant (basically getting my period too soon). This could be a legitimate problem for me since I seem to already have progesterone issues. The only drawback to this biopsy is that the luteal phase may be fine during one cycle and not fine during another. It’s kind of a crap shoot. For now, my midwife has me taking Prometrium from the day I ovulate until I get my period, which is what she would recommend if a luteal phase defect was found anyway. Eventually I think I’ll do the biopsy though.
What I do and don’t know
What I do know is that according to the U.S. National and Vital Statistics Report, one million clinically diagnosed pregnancies (those that grew for a minimum of six weeks) are lost every year in the U.S. As Klein says, “According to official statistics, both literally and figuratively, babies lost before six weeks gestation simply do not count.” When miscarriage estimates include preclinical losses, the estimate skyrockets to between 2.3 million and 5.4 million — 30 to 50 percent of all pregnancies in the U.S., and affecting two of every four women.
What I do know now, is that guidelines for testing are antiquated and based on old research, and that miscarriage is an underfunded medical problem. Your chances of finding a doctor who takes your concerns seriously is probably luck. Some do, some don’t.
What I do know now is not to ignore the voice in my head. Even if you don’t know what else could be done for you, find a different doctor. Get recommendations from your friends or schedule free “get acquainted visits.” But don’t accept the status quo if your gut is telling you it’s not right. If I hadn’t switched doctors when I was pregnant with Bean, she may not be here.
What I don’t know, is why it keeps happening to me. At least now I feel empowered to try to figure out why.
And honestly, part of me wants to have a definitive explanation about what’s wrong so that I can tell my girls when they want to start having babies (because when I think about the possibility that my troubles are genetic and that I may have passed this on to my girls, my heart literally breaks), but part of me wishes I could just chalk it up to “bad luck.” I will continue trying to seek answers for my girls.
Probably the least revealing thing about the series of posts I wrote in August about whether or not to have another baby was that deep down, I always knew that I wanted to. I was just scared. Scared that we wouldn’t be able to handle three.
Perhaps this was God’s way of making me feel secure in the decision to have three babies — His way of letting me know that we have enough love, enough patience, enough space and enough money.
I don’t have doubts anymore. I know I would like to have a third baby and I know we’ll figure it out.
My fourth miscarriage made that clear to me.
Even though I went off birth control in July, with the intention of trying in the fall, we (mostly I) still had been so indecisive about whether or not it was the right decision.
As soon as I felt supremely confident in the “yes” decision I would exuberantly proclaim the news to my husband, and then the next day, or the next hour I would have doubts.
In the past I’ve said that I’m incredibly lucky that it only takes me a couple of months to get pregnant. And that held true this time; it only took three tries.
And then nine days later I already knew it wasn’t going to work out. I wasn’t even five weeks pregnant yet.
I got a positive pregnancy test on Saturday, November 19 which was only day 24 in my cycle (for those of you not familiar yet with pregnancy lingo and logistics, that’s REALLY early — I had been having very short 26-day cycles.) That Monday, I called my midwife’s office and she had me start hormone testing right away. My first hCG test was 51, which was indicative of a 3-4 week pregnancy. My progesterone level was 19, which was fine, but a little low. HCG levels are supposed to double every 48-72 hours and progesterone levels should increase 1-3 ng/ml every couple of days. These initial values were my baseline and would be used to compare with the results of tests every 48 hours to see if the numbers were rising appropriately. (http://www.americanpregnancy.org/pregnancycomplications/earlyfetaldevelopment.htm)
Flashback
Through early hormone testing when I was pregnant with Bean, my doctor discovered that my initial progesterone level was 28, which was really great. My follow-up test showed that my level had actually dropped to 26, which was still a good number, but your progesterone level is not supposed to drop. My doctor proactively put me on a synthetic progesterone — Prometrium. His theory was that perhaps I was experiencing early losses because my body was not making enough progesterone to support the pregnancy until the placenta takes over and starts making it at 12 weeks. These hormone tests also showed that my hCG level was doubling every 48 hours. While synthetic progesterone exists, if your body doesn’t make the hCG hormone, there’s nothing you can do.
Since I’ve had problems with my progesterone in the past, my midwife had me start taking Prometrium right away as a precautionary measure. My next hormone test was on Wednesday, November 23 and my hCG level was 94. A little concerning because it didn’t quite double. But the nurse told me it was the “gold standard” for hCG to double in 48 hours and that she didn’t think I should be worried. Further research on my own showed that indeed she was right and that as long as the hCG was increasing by 60% in 48-72 hours, the pregnancy was still viable.
The smallest alarm sounded in my head, but I quieted it with optimism and positive thoughts because my God, it was still SO early. My first hCG test with Bean was when I was 4w3d pregnant and that level was 142. Here I was only 3w6d pregnant and my hCG was 94. Doing the math, I figured that my hCG would be 376 by the time I hit 4w3d with this pregnancy — way ahead of the game!
My next text was Friday, November 25. I took time out of my Black Friday shopping to stop in at the clinic. The nurse called me about two hours later with the news. For some reason, I knew it wasn’t going to be good. My hCG was only 113.
I was so confused. In the past, my miscarriages have always been announced by spotting. My negative association with seeing red spotting is so high that even when I’m not pregnant and not trying to get pregnant, just getting my period makes me fearful and feel like my body has failed. And then I have to consciously remind myself, “I’m not pregnant. This is supposed to happen.”
So the fact that I wasn’t spotting and my hCG level was only 113 was confusing. The nurse said that some women can go on to have normal pregnancies, but it didn’t look good.
All weekend I held onto the slightest possibility of hope. I still didn’t have any spotting. I changed my mental outlook — instead of feeling like the miscarriage was a foregone conclusion like I had all the times in the past, I tried the power of positive thinking. I tried to believe in it, to will the pregnancy into existence. I pictured the number 226 in my head, and thought, even if it’s only 200 it will be okay. I prayed.
By Monday, November 28 my hCG was back down to 51 again.
I didn’t start spotting until Wednesday.
My emotions were all over the place.
I was sad, but not devastated. It definitely wasn’t as heartbreaking as my first two losses before I had any children, before I knew if I could have children.
I was a little jealous of all the pregnant celebrities.
I was immensely thankful for the two beautiful children I have here on earth.
I was very grateful that it didn’t happen later. For me at least, miscarriage is emotionally and physically easier to deal with when it happens so early.
Technically, this pregnancy, like my very first pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage, was considered preclinical, or a chemical pregnancy. A chemical pregnancy “occurs when a pregnancy is lost shortly after implantation, resulting in bleeding that occurs around the time of the woman’s expected period. The woman may not realize that she conceived when she experiences a chemical pregnancy.”
In other words, if someone hadn’t been trying to get pregnant and testing and tracking their cycle, they probably wouldn’t even have known they got pregnant and miscarried; they would have just thought their period was a few days late. But I did know, and even though they were chemical pregnancies, they’re still counted as miscarriages.
The Disappointment
Mostly I guess, I’m disappointed. I’m disappointed that this is so hard for me. And hard for everyone, really, who has love to give to a baby. Why is it so hard? It should be so easy. You have love, you want to give love to a baby, so you get pregnant and have one.
Why doesn’t it happen like that?
I’m disappointed because I thought we found the “cure” for my losses. After Bean was born I did a battery of tests that turned up nothing unusual that could be causing me to lose pregnancies. While my doctor could never be 100% certain, we thought my trouble was my too-low progesterone.
So, naively I guess, I thought that taking the Prometrium would mean that loss wouldn’t continue to be a problem for me.
I’m very disappointed that early pregnancy is not filled with joy and happiness for me. When I get a positive pregnancy test, I’m filled with excitement and joy for about 5 minutes. And then the worry, anxiety and trepidation set in because I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Because I know I have to take things one day, one hour at a time — the visits to the lab, waiting for test results, the many ultrasounds.
While I’m thankful for these hormone tests and ultrasounds, because I would rather *know* than not know, ultimately they don’t really help me control anything, which is what I really wish I could do.
The Anxiety
After this last loss I picked up the book To Full Term from the library about a woman’s monumental struggle to bring her son into the world after her first child (a daughter) was born 12 weeks premature, then suffering two miscarriages (one at 13 weeks and one at 8 weeks), and then losing twins at 20 weeks. It’s almost incomprehensible that one woman would be put through so much. Her journey truly is remarkable, not only because it was through her own dogged determination and insistence that doctors listen to her, but because she has now created a resource for other people. A way for women to stand up and fight for their unborn babies and to seek answers after a loss.
I could completely relate to author Darci Klein’s description of getting a positive pregnancy test:
“I should be thrilled. I wanted this. I try to imagine holding a tiny baby in my arms. Awestruck. But my thoughts quickly turn to all those other sticks with two lines, all the thwarted promise.”
In the book, Darci describes how she’s told her husband that she’s pregnant with less and less fanfare.
I’ve been there. Not so much with telling my own husband, but how we tell our closest friends and family members. I still have the digital photo of Monkey at 10 months sitting underneath the Christmas tree holding a sign that says “I’m going to be a big sister,” in a hidden folder on my computer hard drive. We had that photo printed and framed and we gave it out to our parents and siblings as a surprise Christmas gift. Three days after Christmas, at my six-week ultrasound, the doctor couldn’t find a heartbeat.
I started crying when I read Darci’s reaction when she started spotting in her pregnancy with her son:
“‘Don’t panic,’ I say aloud. I repeat the words in my head, but my chest heaves from the familiar threat of bright red blood, just like I saw when I lost my first baby at 13 weeks, and later with my twins.”
It’s an all-too familiar scenario for me.
The Stress
Everyone from friends to doctors to co-workers will tell you to relax during your pregnancy because increased stress can harm the baby. But telling that to someone who has experienced a loss is so counterproductive.
“Multiple studies have confirmed that pregnant women who’ve had a loss experience far more anxiety during future pregnancies than those who’ve never miscarried. After loss, women must push aside the constant whisper that things could go wrong again.”
The Fear
It’s funny how quickly you forget how truly hard it was to bring a baby into the world after you have the baby safely delivered in your arms. When Husband and I were embarking on this latest round of trying, we honestly didn’t even discuss the past difficulties.
Those memories all came rushing back for me the moment I saw the positive pregnancy test and started going for the hormone testing and waiting anxiously for the results phone calls. I remembered again how hard it is. And I couldn’t escape it. Every two seconds I would remember that I was pregnant and it affected all of my decisions (don’t have too much caffeine, don’t take any ibuprofen, don’t have any cold cuts or soft cheeses, how much should I exercise?).
To be perfectly honest, part of me is scared to try again. I’m scared I’ll get pregnant and then lose it again.
I can relate when Darci says she wasn’t prepared for the fear.
“I feel almost embarrassed that I hadn’t anticipated the most obvious risk of all: the gripping terror that I may lose another baby.”
Just last week I tried to convince myself that two kids was perfect. I thought about all the reasons my life would be easier with two kids instead of three:
And then a friend posted a picture of her brand new 15-minute old baby, and I didn’t see the diapers, the breastfeeding struggles, the car seat dilemma, the potty training, the money concerns, the space constraints, or the lack of sleep.
I saw this perfect little creature who had just joined their family. A brand new life. And I knew that I still wanted that one more time. I want to be handed my newly delivered baby and relish in that moment again. That moment when we get to meet the new person we created. I want the newborn yawns and the first bath, the itty bitty clothes and the extra cautious drive home from the hospital.
I’m still skittish though. I don’t know how many more times we can put ourselves through this. I am so unbelievably thankful for the two beautiful girls I have. More than anything, I don’t want to try so hard for something and end up disappointed about what I don’t have, instead of thankful for what I do have.
Part of why I wanted to share this very private personal struggle is because I think many more women in my life than I realize have struggled with pregnancy loss. It’s almost never discussed. And my biggest takeaway from Darci Klein’s book was that we must fight for ourselves, fight for answers, not accept the antiquated obstetrics guidelines that most doctors are so quick to offer, and move beyond secrecy and silence. I plan to write a follow-up post in the coming days with some resources that I found helpful.
I do believe in Santa Claus.
I really do.
I have “Believe” signs sprinkled throughout my house, and while I’m sure they were intended to be Christmas decorations, I keep them up all year ’round because I think they have more meaning than just believing in Santa Claus.
While Christmas definitely is a religious holiday for us, and I am thrilled that my girls understand that the true meaning of Christmas is celebrating Jesus’ birthday, I personally find parallels between Santa Claus and Jesus.
Santa Claus is a legend that originated in the actions of a real person, Saint Nicholas, a Greek bishop who had a reputation for secret gift giving and to whom many miracles are attributed.
Jesus wants us to take care of others, especially those less fortunate, to act without expecting anything in return, to be selfless. To give.
For our family at least, Santa Claus and Jesus don’t have to be mutually exclusive.
Amidst all of our holiday merry-making, which has included many of our favorite holiday activities, including several nights of viewing Christmas lights,
Pere Marquette Park, Downtown Milwaukee.
Pere Marquette Park, Downtown Milwaukee.
baking lots and lots of goodies,
Mmmm. Christmas treats.
watching our favorite Christmas movies,
"A toast to my big brother George. The richest man in town."
and even a wrapping extravaganza day,
My wrapping station.
I walked into a 9,000 square foot warehouse on December 13 that quite literally, was overflowing with wrapped Christmas presents. And what I saw was a generosity of spirit. A visual reminder of all that is good about Christmas.
I saw Santa.
I saw people who had given gifts out of the kindness of their hearts, with no expectation of anything in return.
And isn’t that the best kind?
Isn’t that what Santa does?
I went to the warehouse to volunteer. I discovered the Gingerbread House back in September when I was looking for a service project to commemorate the 10th anniversary of 9/11.
The Gingerbread House is part of the Youth and Family Project which serves Wisconsin families in Washington, Ozaukee and Waukesha counties. The organization, which is dedicated to providing a variety of support, education and counseling services to help reunite families divided by crisis, really struck a chord with me because I think a strong family unit is so core to a child’s development (and ultimately what his/her future will look like).
This Christmas season the Gingerbread House will serve over 600 families. In chatting with the woman who began the project 20 years ago, for most families, the gifts they receive through the Gingerbread House *is* their Christmas. There won’t be any other gifts.
I was overwhelmed when I saw that in some families with three kids plus parents, there were 3-4 gifts for each person.
That is astounding.
Astoundingly generous.
At what other time of year do we see this kind of generosity?
Ironically, when I pulled names from the “giving tree” at our local YMCA I discovered the gifts were for people who had signed up through the Gingerbread House.
And the two boys asked for blankets, and an 11-year-old girl needed shirts. It was so humbling to me to see that these were truly needs, not wants. As I’m piling baby doll cribs, Dora toys and high end vacuum cleaners into my minivan, how could I not get blankets for a 7-year-old and a 15-year-old? How could I buy MORE clothes for my two girls who don’t need any more clothes, when there’s an 11-year-old who just needs some shirts?
Next year I’d like to do more. I’d like to be like the other families who have adopted an entire family and have provided each person 3-4 gifts. I can do better than blankets and shirts.
I think even Jesus would be happy to know that Santa inspires this kind of generosity in other people.
I believe in Santa Claus.
I believe in God and Jesus.
I believe in miracles.
I believe in the power of prayer.
I believe in people.
I believe in laughter and joy and positive thinking.
I believe in life.
All year ‘round, I believe.
And P.S. Who doesn’t love George and Mary? My most favorite Christmas movie, and maybe even one of my all-time faves. At any given point, we can all relate to George Bailey, but as he discovers, it really is a wonderful life.
And if you still don’t believe, there’s this — a mathematical equation that proves Santa is real.
What do you believe in and how will you be celebrating Christmas?
“And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled ’till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.” – Theodor Seuss Geisel (1904-1991), Writer, Cartoonist, Animator
On the Night You Were Born 