Today baby Clara is 5 months, 25 days old. She babbles, giggles and laughs frequently. Loves to eat rice cereal, carrots, bananas, mommy milk and pears. She's starting to sit up, attempting to roll over and in general doing all things that a baby should do.
About two years ago, a had another baby reach 5 months, 25 days old. That was June 24th, 2016. It was just before 6 am. But my baby did not reach 5 months and 26 days. Lily passed away just after 6 am.
I'm attempting to restrain the flood of panic I'm having. But I really just want to buy a huge box of See's chocolates and hide.
Facebook just reminded me that 2 years ago today we celebrated Lily's 1 month birthday. It was the only birthday we were able to celebrate. I had planned to celebrate her 6 month birthday, but instead we had a funeral.
In a couple of days I turn 33, assuming I live to be 100 I have lived appox. 1/3 of my life. Only 66 years until I see Lily again. 66 years isn't long.
Tuesday, January 30, 2018
Friday, January 19, 2018
When do I tell them?
I've been having a hard time.
Growing up I always had a babysitting job. In fact I was scheduled out Tuesday thru Saturday to babysit from the time I was 13. I had permanent weekly appointments with various families. I watched small families with 2-3 small kids. Larger families of 5 or 6. Helped teens with homework, directed chores, regulated play, made things with the kids I babysat, cleaned the house, cooked dinner even. It was easy.
I guess the Lord decided it was too easy for me.
I love my little ones.
I read a book called "Try Differently rather than Harder" it's about FASD, fetal alcohol spectrum disorder.
Now, I've never in my life been one of those people to define what can or cannot be accomplished because of a disability. With my students, the kids I babysat, I always encouraged them to just do their best--and I worked with a wide variety of 'best work'. I feel like I have a developed a whole set of 'good parenting skills'.
In the book there's a chapter about people with FASD describing their brain, and they way they think. Here's some of them:
"My brain feels like Swiss cheese"
"All the wiring is scrambled."
"If someone opened my brain, they'd find a bunch of black holes."
"I have a window in my brain, some days it's closed, other days it's wide open."
The problem I find is that if your child has holes in their brain, when they drop their marbles, you --the parent-- have to pick them up.
Tell me all you want that your child throws temper tantrums, forgets to clean their room, misplaces objects, doesn't do homework. I've been around kids. 'Normal' it is not like this.
What I really want to know is how do I tell them? How do I tell them that the reason they freak out when they can't decide to wear a coat or jacket is because of anxiety caused by brain damage? Or that they aren't stupid, but they will struggle their entire life.
I just received an invitation to the foster care symposium on: FASD: When Good Parenting Skills Don't Work. Yeah... I already knew that...
Growing up I always had a babysitting job. In fact I was scheduled out Tuesday thru Saturday to babysit from the time I was 13. I had permanent weekly appointments with various families. I watched small families with 2-3 small kids. Larger families of 5 or 6. Helped teens with homework, directed chores, regulated play, made things with the kids I babysat, cleaned the house, cooked dinner even. It was easy.
I guess the Lord decided it was too easy for me.
I love my little ones.
I read a book called "Try Differently rather than Harder" it's about FASD, fetal alcohol spectrum disorder.
Now, I've never in my life been one of those people to define what can or cannot be accomplished because of a disability. With my students, the kids I babysat, I always encouraged them to just do their best--and I worked with a wide variety of 'best work'. I feel like I have a developed a whole set of 'good parenting skills'.
In the book there's a chapter about people with FASD describing their brain, and they way they think. Here's some of them:
"My brain feels like Swiss cheese"
"All the wiring is scrambled."
"If someone opened my brain, they'd find a bunch of black holes."
"I have a window in my brain, some days it's closed, other days it's wide open."
The problem I find is that if your child has holes in their brain, when they drop their marbles, you --the parent-- have to pick them up.
Tell me all you want that your child throws temper tantrums, forgets to clean their room, misplaces objects, doesn't do homework. I've been around kids. 'Normal' it is not like this.
What I really want to know is how do I tell them? How do I tell them that the reason they freak out when they can't decide to wear a coat or jacket is because of anxiety caused by brain damage? Or that they aren't stupid, but they will struggle their entire life.
I just received an invitation to the foster care symposium on: FASD: When Good Parenting Skills Don't Work. Yeah... I already knew that...
Wednesday, August 30, 2017
PTSD
Clara is the same size now as Lily when Lily passed away. (Actually Clara's a little bigger.) It's odd for me to think that Clara is only 4 weeks old and already surpassing her littler (in growth) sister.
Most people comment on how large their kids are when a new baby comes. Instead, Clara is huge comparatively.
Last night was new baby difficult. Staying up until 3am, needing cuddles. I finally fell asleep next to Clara. She wears an Owlet to bed, the Owlet is the only reason I can sleep at all. (Owlet is a heart rate/oxygen monitoring device.)
I awoke with my alarm and turned to see Clara asleep. She looked in sleep like Lily dead. I freaked out. Despite the Owlet's green light gently telling me that everything is okay... I immediately woke my daughter, checked her breathing myself. She giggled softly and went right back to sleep.
Most people comment on how large their kids are when a new baby comes. Instead, Clara is huge comparatively.
Last night was new baby difficult. Staying up until 3am, needing cuddles. I finally fell asleep next to Clara. She wears an Owlet to bed, the Owlet is the only reason I can sleep at all. (Owlet is a heart rate/oxygen monitoring device.)
I awoke with my alarm and turned to see Clara asleep. She looked in sleep like Lily dead. I freaked out. Despite the Owlet's green light gently telling me that everything is okay... I immediately woke my daughter, checked her breathing myself. She giggled softly and went right back to sleep.
Thursday, August 3, 2017
Baby Clara
For the past 2.5 weeks I've been getting contractions. But every time they started becoming regular anxiety would start and the contractions would quit! On July 29th (Mine and Andrew's 12th anniversary) my contractions were 5 minutes apart for 2 hours. We got ready for the hospital...then they quit again!
Fast Forward to August 3rd.
Andrew's mom came over to watch the kids. Andrew and I had woken up around 6:15am. Everything we needed was in the car, we drove to the hospital, checked in about 7am and walked up the stairs to labor and delivery. The nurses took me to room 238. A lovely room with a beautiful view of the mountains. My nurse called my OBGYN as I was scheduled for induction.
A few minutes later she came back to inform me that no one from my OBGYN office was scheduled to be at Mountain Point Medical (the hospital) that morning. An oversight on the OBGYN office...aka...oops! Also, the only doctor on call at the other hospital was in the middle of a c-section and wouldn't be able to come for several hours, also, she couldn't start the pitocin because I had a prior c-section. I responded, "Oh, okay we can go out for breakfast then!" The nurse replied, "Yeah, you could go to Kneaders."
I pulled out the camera, asked Andrew to take one last picture of pregnant me. The camera flashed "No room on memory card." For the record, we had transferred everything from the memory card to our computer several days ago and thought that we had wiped the memory card but since after seeing the no room on memory card, we both questioned if we had transferred everything correctly, plus all the pictures on the camera were of Lily.
We left the hospital, my right wrist carrying my hospital bracelets, and drove to Target where we purchased a new memory card for the camera, a few treats (baby meat sticks--weird but I like them.), and baby bottles with a bottle brush.
Then we drove to Kneaders, I requested a breakfast croissant (sausage, egg, cheese), Andrew bought french toast (strawberries, cream) and we also bought 4 fruit tarts.
We drove back to the hospital, much to the relief of our nurse who was worried we wouldn't be back in time. I left 3 of the tarts with the nurses and we went back to our room.
We ate breakfast, enjoyed the sunrise.
A nurse came in to start my IV and blew out my vein on my left hand. The epidural tech came in and started an IV on my right hand. Dr. Bean came in and apologized for the oversight of hospital staff. He said, "It actually would have been better for us to have you come tomorrow." I replied, "We can come tomorrow." (I really wouldn't have minded.) Dr. Bean replied, "No, you already have an IV, and I'm here until you deliver. Everyone at AF hospital has to wait to be induced until your baby is here."
Pitocin started. The nurse suddenly realized that I was strep B positive, she left to get antibiotics (which you're supposed to have 4 hours before delivery). I was already in transitional labor. The contractions were hard and fast. I grabbed Andrew's hand. The nurse turned down the pitocin but my body was ready to go. The contractions were 2 minutes apart. I asked for an epidural. The contractions were 1 minute apart. The epidural dude arrived and had the epidural in quick. The nurse checked me, I was dialated to 8.5."I think were going to have a baby soon." My nurse said and then quickly ran off and brought back all the doctors tools. As she laid them out on the table the epidural dude shot my line with a concentrated dose as the minor dose hadn't started yet. Dr. Bean dressed in a delivery gown over by the door. "Do you feel the need to push?" he asked. I replied, "No, the epidural is too strong, you'll have to tell me when to push." "Okay. Next contraction then."
I was actually surprised, had I realized that I was that close, I probably would've gone without an epidural...maybe.
Four rounds of pushing, "I see dark hair." - Dr. Bean, and a hardy cry filled the room. I had had the epidural less than 10 minutes. The antibiotic had been in me for 20 minutes. Andrew tells me that the umbilical cord was wrapped loosely around our baby's arm or leg, but he doesn't remember which.
I didn't tear. There were no complications. Dr. Bean said, "No tearing, nothing, why am I here!"
Clara was placed on my chest, she immediately started rooting. I let her nurse for an hour. Another nurse asked if I was okay giving a bottle. "My milk's not in yet! Of course she can have a bottle." ("I like that," the nurse replied, "You're realistic.") Andrew fed Clara a bottle, she downed 35ml and at less than 2 hours old. They hooked her up to a pulse ox, she was slightly purple, but her numbers checked out perfectly. It took awhile to rub all the vernix from her body, she had some leftover in her hair that was washed out the following day.
Clara River Rosenvall
12:40pm (From start of IV to birth was 1 hour 40 minutes)
8 lbs 14 ounces
19 3/4 inches long
Fast Forward to August 3rd.
Andrew's mom came over to watch the kids. Andrew and I had woken up around 6:15am. Everything we needed was in the car, we drove to the hospital, checked in about 7am and walked up the stairs to labor and delivery. The nurses took me to room 238. A lovely room with a beautiful view of the mountains. My nurse called my OBGYN as I was scheduled for induction.
A few minutes later she came back to inform me that no one from my OBGYN office was scheduled to be at Mountain Point Medical (the hospital) that morning. An oversight on the OBGYN office...aka...oops! Also, the only doctor on call at the other hospital was in the middle of a c-section and wouldn't be able to come for several hours, also, she couldn't start the pitocin because I had a prior c-section. I responded, "Oh, okay we can go out for breakfast then!" The nurse replied, "Yeah, you could go to Kneaders."
I pulled out the camera, asked Andrew to take one last picture of pregnant me. The camera flashed "No room on memory card." For the record, we had transferred everything from the memory card to our computer several days ago and thought that we had wiped the memory card but since after seeing the no room on memory card, we both questioned if we had transferred everything correctly, plus all the pictures on the camera were of Lily.
We left the hospital, my right wrist carrying my hospital bracelets, and drove to Target where we purchased a new memory card for the camera, a few treats (baby meat sticks--weird but I like them.), and baby bottles with a bottle brush.
Then we drove to Kneaders, I requested a breakfast croissant (sausage, egg, cheese), Andrew bought french toast (strawberries, cream) and we also bought 4 fruit tarts.
We drove back to the hospital, much to the relief of our nurse who was worried we wouldn't be back in time. I left 3 of the tarts with the nurses and we went back to our room.
We ate breakfast, enjoyed the sunrise.
A nurse came in to start my IV and blew out my vein on my left hand. The epidural tech came in and started an IV on my right hand. Dr. Bean came in and apologized for the oversight of hospital staff. He said, "It actually would have been better for us to have you come tomorrow." I replied, "We can come tomorrow." (I really wouldn't have minded.) Dr. Bean replied, "No, you already have an IV, and I'm here until you deliver. Everyone at AF hospital has to wait to be induced until your baby is here."
Pitocin started. The nurse suddenly realized that I was strep B positive, she left to get antibiotics (which you're supposed to have 4 hours before delivery). I was already in transitional labor. The contractions were hard and fast. I grabbed Andrew's hand. The nurse turned down the pitocin but my body was ready to go. The contractions were 2 minutes apart. I asked for an epidural. The contractions were 1 minute apart. The epidural dude arrived and had the epidural in quick. The nurse checked me, I was dialated to 8.5."I think were going to have a baby soon." My nurse said and then quickly ran off and brought back all the doctors tools. As she laid them out on the table the epidural dude shot my line with a concentrated dose as the minor dose hadn't started yet. Dr. Bean dressed in a delivery gown over by the door. "Do you feel the need to push?" he asked. I replied, "No, the epidural is too strong, you'll have to tell me when to push." "Okay. Next contraction then."
I was actually surprised, had I realized that I was that close, I probably would've gone without an epidural...maybe.
Four rounds of pushing, "I see dark hair." - Dr. Bean, and a hardy cry filled the room. I had had the epidural less than 10 minutes. The antibiotic had been in me for 20 minutes. Andrew tells me that the umbilical cord was wrapped loosely around our baby's arm or leg, but he doesn't remember which.
I didn't tear. There were no complications. Dr. Bean said, "No tearing, nothing, why am I here!"
Clara was placed on my chest, she immediately started rooting. I let her nurse for an hour. Another nurse asked if I was okay giving a bottle. "My milk's not in yet! Of course she can have a bottle." ("I like that," the nurse replied, "You're realistic.") Andrew fed Clara a bottle, she downed 35ml and at less than 2 hours old. They hooked her up to a pulse ox, she was slightly purple, but her numbers checked out perfectly. It took awhile to rub all the vernix from her body, she had some leftover in her hair that was washed out the following day.
Clara River Rosenvall
12:40pm (From start of IV to birth was 1 hour 40 minutes)
8 lbs 14 ounces
19 3/4 inches long
Friday, July 28, 2017
This is different...
I have always delivered early. In fact, this new one (spoiler alert... I'm pregnant) threatened to arrive 7 weeks early. Now, I find myself having had contractions for 2 weeks, dialated at 4, 100% effaced...and still pregnant?
I imagine she's talking with Lily. They are taking their time.
I imagine she's talking with Lily. They are taking their time.
Friday, May 5, 2017
The Dreamers and You
Reading facebook posts of parents happily delighting their children with St. Patrick's Day merriment, chocolate coins, and rainbows is....
I can tell that I'm seeing other peoples worlds through rose colored glasses.
I too am guilty of the ever present "Prozac posts".
I like real life posts too, but most people won't post:
"I hate you mom."
"Nothing will ever EVER make it better!"
"They did it and its not my fault that I left it out! I was going to pick it up later!"
I suppose some experienced parents say that those statements mean I'm doing something right? They just remind me how awful I am...depression is real people.
This past week we received an unusual request-a purchase of our home despite it not being for sale. The offer, though good, is enough to let us entertain the actual idea of moving. (But we haven't signed anything, so neighbors rein in your horses, you haven't gotten rid of us yet.)
It has unfortunately added unexpected stress to my family.
The stress of looking for a potential new house, possibly packing all we own and moving, grief from losing Lily is still raw, the new tiny coming in July/August (shocker!... whatever, I know I can't hide it anymore.).
Andrew donated blood today for a friend of ours. (It's a blood-donation fundraiser for their daughter who made it through chemo successfully.) Andrew was happy to donate. In the midst of it, a pulse oximeter alarm blared. PTSD raised my husbands heart rate and he filled his donation bag in less than 5 minutes.
S & M like the idea of moving. J wants a bedroom without the twins in it. (I don't blame him... We have 4 boys in one room, and the room is small... Yes, we know we need to move.) D is dealing with his own aggression. P has been retracting with pottytraining. (He's been fully trained for over 6 months!)
I attended a temple session today. (I wanted to invite someone to go with me, but depression retched into my thoughts and I went alone. I should've invited someone...) The temple makes me happy. I feel closer to God and Lily when I'm there. I'm reminded of Eternal purposes and my life feels better on track.
Today (while in the temple) I felt that we're trying too hard to find a new house. That things will fall into place. That somewhere, someone has the key to where we go next and that I need to continue doing stress-free activities with my family, keep my house in order, my children safe, and to continue using happy funds.
Happy funds- our way of bringing a little bit of joy to a family who lost a precious tiny. Tonight we bought doughnuts, played at the park, and didn't give any thought of worry to our futures.
I'm going to eat my cream filled Bismarck.
I can tell that I'm seeing other peoples worlds through rose colored glasses.
I too am guilty of the ever present "Prozac posts".
I like real life posts too, but most people won't post:
"I hate you mom."
"Nothing will ever EVER make it better!"
"They did it and its not my fault that I left it out! I was going to pick it up later!"
I suppose some experienced parents say that those statements mean I'm doing something right? They just remind me how awful I am...depression is real people.
This past week we received an unusual request-a purchase of our home despite it not being for sale. The offer, though good, is enough to let us entertain the actual idea of moving. (But we haven't signed anything, so neighbors rein in your horses, you haven't gotten rid of us yet.)
It has unfortunately added unexpected stress to my family.
The stress of looking for a potential new house, possibly packing all we own and moving, grief from losing Lily is still raw, the new tiny coming in July/August (shocker!... whatever, I know I can't hide it anymore.).
Andrew donated blood today for a friend of ours. (It's a blood-donation fundraiser for their daughter who made it through chemo successfully.) Andrew was happy to donate. In the midst of it, a pulse oximeter alarm blared. PTSD raised my husbands heart rate and he filled his donation bag in less than 5 minutes.
S & M like the idea of moving. J wants a bedroom without the twins in it. (I don't blame him... We have 4 boys in one room, and the room is small... Yes, we know we need to move.) D is dealing with his own aggression. P has been retracting with pottytraining. (He's been fully trained for over 6 months!)
I attended a temple session today. (I wanted to invite someone to go with me, but depression retched into my thoughts and I went alone. I should've invited someone...) The temple makes me happy. I feel closer to God and Lily when I'm there. I'm reminded of Eternal purposes and my life feels better on track.
Today (while in the temple) I felt that we're trying too hard to find a new house. That things will fall into place. That somewhere, someone has the key to where we go next and that I need to continue doing stress-free activities with my family, keep my house in order, my children safe, and to continue using happy funds.
Happy funds- our way of bringing a little bit of joy to a family who lost a precious tiny. Tonight we bought doughnuts, played at the park, and didn't give any thought of worry to our futures.
I'm going to eat my cream filled Bismarck.
Friday, November 25, 2016
Happy Thanksgiving
Yesterday (Thanksgiving) was the 5 month anniversary of Lily's passing. I doubt anyone knew, but every 24th of the month rests heavy on my heart. As December approaches I find myself apprehensive. Stores are becoming more delightfully decorated with Christmas. Twinkly lights, trees, carols in the radio, all lovely things that remind us of our Savior's birth, and remind me of my Lily's life.
I am not looking forward to this next month, and I know that my blog is a mixture of depression and hope at the moment. I won't apologize for it. I'm grieving. Grief has lows and highs.
Next month there will be several days that I probably will struggle with...
On Dec 19th Lily will have been gone the same number of days as she was alive.
Dec 24th (yeah...Christmas Eve), will be the 6th month anniversary of her passing.
Dec 25th (Christmas), Lily's Due Date last year.
Dec 30th, Lily's 1st Birthday.
Doomsayers will probably tell me "You're only causing your own problems by telling yourself those days will be hard, thus, if those days are hard it's your own fault."
To them I say... "You don't understand grief." (I could say more, but I was raised to be polite.)
If I happen to look depressed. In fact if anyone around you recently lost a loved one... and they look depressed, or sad, or unhappy, or tired.
Do. Not. Say. : "You look tired." "Why aren't you smiling." "You look sad." "Ugly, ugly face." "What's a matter, grumpy?" "You look grim."
I understand these comments are made because well intentioned people want to help...but if you do this you are only adding to the depression.
Instead please.... Ask them to play a game, or do a task and DON'T comment on their depressed state.
If I want to talk, I'll bring it up.
....Otherwise remember what your mother should have taught you....
"If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."
I am not looking forward to this next month, and I know that my blog is a mixture of depression and hope at the moment. I won't apologize for it. I'm grieving. Grief has lows and highs.
Next month there will be several days that I probably will struggle with...
On Dec 19th Lily will have been gone the same number of days as she was alive.
Dec 24th (yeah...Christmas Eve), will be the 6th month anniversary of her passing.
Dec 25th (Christmas), Lily's Due Date last year.
Dec 30th, Lily's 1st Birthday.
Doomsayers will probably tell me "You're only causing your own problems by telling yourself those days will be hard, thus, if those days are hard it's your own fault."
To them I say... "You don't understand grief." (I could say more, but I was raised to be polite.)
If I happen to look depressed. In fact if anyone around you recently lost a loved one... and they look depressed, or sad, or unhappy, or tired.
Do. Not. Say. : "You look tired." "Why aren't you smiling." "You look sad." "Ugly, ugly face." "What's a matter, grumpy?" "You look grim."
I understand these comments are made because well intentioned people want to help...but if you do this you are only adding to the depression.
Instead please.... Ask them to play a game, or do a task and DON'T comment on their depressed state.
If I want to talk, I'll bring it up.
....Otherwise remember what your mother should have taught you....
"If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)