I was not prepared.
Leo walked into my hospital room to meet Jack for the first time, took one look at me, his face crumpled and he ran away from me to one of my parents, or maybe Matt, I don't remember. He looked at me in the strangest way - this little boy to whom I have always been so close - I've always been his comfort, but that day, he looked at me like I was an alien, one who maybe had hurt him a little.
Jack will be one month old tomorrow, and things are starting to seem slightly more normal around here. I was prepared for the madness of having a newborn, knew that things would be exhausting and frantic for a while, but I was not prepared for my 4-year-old's huge, complicated feelings, and did not know how to navigate them.
During my first few days home, I couldn't believe how huge Leo looked to me - how he no longer smelled like a baby (somehow, until Jack was born, he still did, to me?), how big and strong and solid he is. I felt pangs of grief and guilt over that. Leo was frustrated when he wanted morning or bedtime cuddles and Jack needed to nurse at the same time. My wonderfully supportive parents, Leo's dear dear buddies and two of his favorite people, found themselves shunned by the little guy, who seemed frustrated at having two more people to divide my attention. They had planned to take him to do fun stuff every day and help keep him busy, but Leo just wanted me. It seemed that he ached to feel secure in his family unit again. We tried so hard to talk about feelings, support him, be patient.
It's getting better. It is better, much better. I can't love these two little people the same way - Leo had four years to be my only baby, something Jack will never know, but Jack will always grow up knowing he has his parents AND Leo. Leo has started settling into new routines - at night, instead of cuddling alone in his bed before bedtime, we turn out the living room lights, sit on the couch and listen to songs while I nurse Jack and cuddle Leo. Last night, Leo specifically requested couch cuddles, and spent the whole time softly stroking Jack's head. He loves him. The feelings are complicated, but love is the most important of them.
Jack is a pretty easy baby - he nurses, then sleeps, then wakes and looks around with his big blue-gray newborn eyes (will they become dark blue like mine and Leo's, or light green like Matt's?) - he is laid-back. He looks for me, Matt, and Leo. Last night Matt and Leo were wrestling and laughing hysterically, and Jack (who does have normal fussy evenings) completely settled down and opened his eyes huge, and his mouth too, trying so hard to focus on the guys and, I imagine, hoping that it won't be long before he can join the fun.
And it won't be long. He'll grow before I know it. I'm able to enjoy these days more this time, knowing that the hard stuff is all temporary. I worried about how to help Leo adjust to this, but again, "the way out is through" - he is adjusting as he sees, every day, that our routines might be a little bit different, but he can be secure in our love and in our family.
Last thought: with my first newborn, I mostly found myself thinking "ALL I DO IS NURSE AND WATCH NETFLIX, sob sob sob" but with the second it's more like "All I want to do today is nurse and watch netflix, and I get to...awesome."
Monday, February 2, 2015
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Jack.
Jack Matthew Pavelka
born 1/3/2015
7 lbs 3 oz
20 inches long
I had a baby! We have two sons!
This is Jack's birth story.
On Friday the 2nd, I dropped Leo off at preschool, stopped at the grocery store where the teller informed me that her friend had just had a baby and "tore everything," then came home and immediately laid down on the couch with my iPad on Netflix and didn't move until 2pm. I began having some mild, infrequent contractions around midday, like Braxton-Hicks but a bit more intense, and I wondered if something was going to start. When I picked him up from school, I told Leo's teacher that I'd been contracting all day and might have a baby that weekend. That evening, Leo and I went to my parent's new place in Prescott (their winter rental) and my contractions got a lot stronger, and I got a few other signs that labor was imminent. I called Matt and had him pick up some stuff for dinner. He went home, marinated some fish, and took a nap "just in case." By the time Leo and I got home, my contractions were pretty regular. I grilled some fish. We all ate.
Around midnight I called my mom and dad to come over and sleep in our guest room, to be with Leo in case we needed to leave in a hurry for the hospital. My contractions continued, pretty regularly but not perfectly regular, and fairly mild, throughout the night...Matt and I tried to lay down around midnight, I couldn't sleep, got out of bed and for the next three hours I labored on my own in the living room and let Matt sleep. Just like when I was in labor with Leo, it felt good to be alone, which is weird for me, but labor makes weirdos out of lots of women. The contractions got much more intense, to the point that I couldn't lie down through them anymore...yet I was having doubts, because the contractions would space apart to 15-20 minutes when I was lying down, and every 5 minutes or less when I was up and about - which is a classic sign of false labor. But I was starting to have a lot of intensity during the contractions, as well as back pain. It felt pretty real. (Spoiler: it was)
During my contractions, I did a lot of the same stuff I did with Leo's labor: yoga breathing, relaxing my jaw and hands, shaking and swinging my hips, blowing horse lips. Anything to stay relaxed and not tense up against them. It gets so hard to stay relaxed! I also pictured myself "going in" to the contractions, sometimes picturing it like I was diving into a wave in the ocean. This image helped. Until it didn't.
Around 330, I got back in bed and woke Matt up for a backrub. I cried a little. He rubbed my back through contractions for about 30 minutes before we decided it was probably time to go to the hospital. (Side note: I had tested positive for group B strep, so I was supposed to receive 2 doses of IV antibiotics, four hours apart, before the birth - we knew this could be a problem, since my labor with Leo had moved so quickly after getting to the hospital). I showered, texted my doula, and put on a little makeup (duh), then we left. We had had a crazy snowstorm a couple days before, so we had to drive a little carefully on the ice in Matt's truck, which is also very bouncy, but the seats were really cold which felt amazing to me for some reason. The hospital drive takes about 20 minutes, and somehow I managed to only have maybe 4 contractions during that time, and Matt and I talked and laughed a little, listened to music. I decided to try to maintain a good attitude.
When we got to the hospital birthing center, the doors were locked and this was the conversation with security over the intercom:
"Can I help you?" Um, I'm in labor.
"Name?" Lindsay Pavelka...
"Date of birth? Doctor's name? Pediatrician's name? Due date?"
Are you serious??? I'm having a baby!
At that moment my doula came down the hall and let us in. The L&D triage nurse examined me and announced I was 6 cm dilated. I said, "Yeah, bitch!" for no reason in particular. It was 530am.
From that point, things moved very quickly! I was not thrilled to be hooked up to an IV, fetal monitor and blood pressure cuff (I had been intermittently monitored and had a hep lock with Leo) but with the GBS issue I was happy to oblige for the baby's health, of course. The phlebotomist was new, in training, and she gutted my hand with the needle as she was putting it in. The IV Penicillin burned my hand and veins but I soon forgot. I mostly wanted to labor on my hands and knees, as I pictured pushing the baby out in the same way I had with Leo. The nurse said, "Actually, it's better if you don't get on hands and knees, because if you do you will want to birth that way." I said, "Yeah, I want to birth that way." She went to talk to the doctor. I got on hands and knees.
At this point, my back labor got crazy. I needed my doula to push on the outsides of my hips and Matt to push on my back. HARD. (They later told me that they could see my sacrum bulging from Jack's head - he was turned around the wrong way!) This went on for a little while. I moaned llllllow (My doula said, "find your bottoms with every contraction" - weird things make sense when you're in labor) and loud. I yelled, "The way out is through." which is kind of cheesy but it's true, about everything, really. My doula loved it and kept repeating it to me. In case I haven't mentioned it, she was awesome. So was Matt, of course.
The doctor came in, she knew Matt and she was nice (she was the OB on call, not my chosen OB). She said she was happy to catch the baby from the hands and knees position, but that it can increase the chances of more tearing - so I decided to try laboring/pushing on my side, instead (during Leo's birth, my awesome OB had suggested this as well, but it didn't work for me then, and that's when she suggested hands and knees). At that point I said, "I have to push now!" they checked me, there was a lip, they pushed it back, I was ready. My water hadn't broken. Dr. Martin said I could push him out in the sac, but it would be less intense if she broke my water. Break it.
I pushed for ten minutes. Five contractions (I think I took a break during the third or fourth). I was going to try pushing three times for each contraction, which a friend's midwife had suggested, but I found that once I started pushing my body completely took over and pushed HARD four or five times through each contraction. It didn't take me long to remember how to push. On the fifth contraction, the stretching was incredibly intense and I was screaming and afraid. It hurt in the front, which was different from Leo, and very scary to me. They cried out, "His head is almost out!" and I yelled, "How close?" because I wanted a break but I would skip the break if he'd be out during the next push. I looked over at Matt and he was crying and smiling. I felt strong and tough. I pushed harder and felt Jack's head come out, pushed again and he was here and born and then he was on my chest, breathing and looking around but not crying, but alive and real and pinking up and looking like no one I'd ever seen before. He cried after a minute (he got an 8 and then a 9 on the Apgar, the 8 because he didn't cry right away) and nursed pretty soon after that. I felt love and relief and so much happiness, also so tired. I didn't feel as crazy with the love hormones this time, but I felt chill and stable and so happy, which was even better to me.
I learned later that one of Jack's arms came out, hand first, next to his head, at the same time. He was also turned around the wrong way, which accounts for the tremendous pressure on my back, as well as the extra pain in the front during the "ring of fire" portion of the morning's labor. I had another minor 2nd-degree tear. Again, I had feared it but had not felt it happen, and healing from it has not been a big deal.
I had only received one dose of the penicillin, but they monitored Jack for 24 hours and determined that we could go home after that.
My doula wrote in her notes, "Mom smiled and laughed throughout the whole labor." And I wouldn't have remembered that, but I know that I did, I joked a lot too. It really helped to keep myself upbeat. I also cried and yelled at a few people, but they usually give you a pass for that when you're pushing out a person. The doctor, nurses and techs were all happy, upbeat and smiling afterward. They kept saying how happy they were, what a great experience it was, to see an all-natural birth, and how they wished it happened more often. They treated me like a queen. I loved it.
I felt very strong when I was pushing. I was scared of tearing but I didn't let the fear stop me or slow me down. The way out is through. I remembered it from Leo and I did it again.
I always wondered if my first natural labor and birth were kind of a fluke, if I just lucked out because the anesthesiologist was busy when I screamed for an epidural and found out I was 8cm. But this time I never asked for the epidural. I knew it was an option, that it could stop the runaway train at any time. But I didn't want to stop it. I wanted to do it.
So that's the story of Jack's arrival. And now we are four.
born 1/3/2015
7 lbs 3 oz
20 inches long
I had a baby! We have two sons!
This is Jack's birth story.
On Friday the 2nd, I dropped Leo off at preschool, stopped at the grocery store where the teller informed me that her friend had just had a baby and "tore everything," then came home and immediately laid down on the couch with my iPad on Netflix and didn't move until 2pm. I began having some mild, infrequent contractions around midday, like Braxton-Hicks but a bit more intense, and I wondered if something was going to start. When I picked him up from school, I told Leo's teacher that I'd been contracting all day and might have a baby that weekend. That evening, Leo and I went to my parent's new place in Prescott (their winter rental) and my contractions got a lot stronger, and I got a few other signs that labor was imminent. I called Matt and had him pick up some stuff for dinner. He went home, marinated some fish, and took a nap "just in case." By the time Leo and I got home, my contractions were pretty regular. I grilled some fish. We all ate.
Around midnight I called my mom and dad to come over and sleep in our guest room, to be with Leo in case we needed to leave in a hurry for the hospital. My contractions continued, pretty regularly but not perfectly regular, and fairly mild, throughout the night...Matt and I tried to lay down around midnight, I couldn't sleep, got out of bed and for the next three hours I labored on my own in the living room and let Matt sleep. Just like when I was in labor with Leo, it felt good to be alone, which is weird for me, but labor makes weirdos out of lots of women. The contractions got much more intense, to the point that I couldn't lie down through them anymore...yet I was having doubts, because the contractions would space apart to 15-20 minutes when I was lying down, and every 5 minutes or less when I was up and about - which is a classic sign of false labor. But I was starting to have a lot of intensity during the contractions, as well as back pain. It felt pretty real. (Spoiler: it was)
During my contractions, I did a lot of the same stuff I did with Leo's labor: yoga breathing, relaxing my jaw and hands, shaking and swinging my hips, blowing horse lips. Anything to stay relaxed and not tense up against them. It gets so hard to stay relaxed! I also pictured myself "going in" to the contractions, sometimes picturing it like I was diving into a wave in the ocean. This image helped. Until it didn't.
Around 330, I got back in bed and woke Matt up for a backrub. I cried a little. He rubbed my back through contractions for about 30 minutes before we decided it was probably time to go to the hospital. (Side note: I had tested positive for group B strep, so I was supposed to receive 2 doses of IV antibiotics, four hours apart, before the birth - we knew this could be a problem, since my labor with Leo had moved so quickly after getting to the hospital). I showered, texted my doula, and put on a little makeup (duh), then we left. We had had a crazy snowstorm a couple days before, so we had to drive a little carefully on the ice in Matt's truck, which is also very bouncy, but the seats were really cold which felt amazing to me for some reason. The hospital drive takes about 20 minutes, and somehow I managed to only have maybe 4 contractions during that time, and Matt and I talked and laughed a little, listened to music. I decided to try to maintain a good attitude.
When we got to the hospital birthing center, the doors were locked and this was the conversation with security over the intercom:
"Can I help you?" Um, I'm in labor.
"Name?" Lindsay Pavelka...
"Date of birth? Doctor's name? Pediatrician's name? Due date?"
Are you serious??? I'm having a baby!
At that moment my doula came down the hall and let us in. The L&D triage nurse examined me and announced I was 6 cm dilated. I said, "Yeah, bitch!" for no reason in particular. It was 530am.
From that point, things moved very quickly! I was not thrilled to be hooked up to an IV, fetal monitor and blood pressure cuff (I had been intermittently monitored and had a hep lock with Leo) but with the GBS issue I was happy to oblige for the baby's health, of course. The phlebotomist was new, in training, and she gutted my hand with the needle as she was putting it in. The IV Penicillin burned my hand and veins but I soon forgot. I mostly wanted to labor on my hands and knees, as I pictured pushing the baby out in the same way I had with Leo. The nurse said, "Actually, it's better if you don't get on hands and knees, because if you do you will want to birth that way." I said, "Yeah, I want to birth that way." She went to talk to the doctor. I got on hands and knees.
At this point, my back labor got crazy. I needed my doula to push on the outsides of my hips and Matt to push on my back. HARD. (They later told me that they could see my sacrum bulging from Jack's head - he was turned around the wrong way!) This went on for a little while. I moaned llllllow (My doula said, "find your bottoms with every contraction" - weird things make sense when you're in labor) and loud. I yelled, "The way out is through." which is kind of cheesy but it's true, about everything, really. My doula loved it and kept repeating it to me. In case I haven't mentioned it, she was awesome. So was Matt, of course.
The doctor came in, she knew Matt and she was nice (she was the OB on call, not my chosen OB). She said she was happy to catch the baby from the hands and knees position, but that it can increase the chances of more tearing - so I decided to try laboring/pushing on my side, instead (during Leo's birth, my awesome OB had suggested this as well, but it didn't work for me then, and that's when she suggested hands and knees). At that point I said, "I have to push now!" they checked me, there was a lip, they pushed it back, I was ready. My water hadn't broken. Dr. Martin said I could push him out in the sac, but it would be less intense if she broke my water. Break it.
I pushed for ten minutes. Five contractions (I think I took a break during the third or fourth). I was going to try pushing three times for each contraction, which a friend's midwife had suggested, but I found that once I started pushing my body completely took over and pushed HARD four or five times through each contraction. It didn't take me long to remember how to push. On the fifth contraction, the stretching was incredibly intense and I was screaming and afraid. It hurt in the front, which was different from Leo, and very scary to me. They cried out, "His head is almost out!" and I yelled, "How close?" because I wanted a break but I would skip the break if he'd be out during the next push. I looked over at Matt and he was crying and smiling. I felt strong and tough. I pushed harder and felt Jack's head come out, pushed again and he was here and born and then he was on my chest, breathing and looking around but not crying, but alive and real and pinking up and looking like no one I'd ever seen before. He cried after a minute (he got an 8 and then a 9 on the Apgar, the 8 because he didn't cry right away) and nursed pretty soon after that. I felt love and relief and so much happiness, also so tired. I didn't feel as crazy with the love hormones this time, but I felt chill and stable and so happy, which was even better to me.
I learned later that one of Jack's arms came out, hand first, next to his head, at the same time. He was also turned around the wrong way, which accounts for the tremendous pressure on my back, as well as the extra pain in the front during the "ring of fire" portion of the morning's labor. I had another minor 2nd-degree tear. Again, I had feared it but had not felt it happen, and healing from it has not been a big deal.
I had only received one dose of the penicillin, but they monitored Jack for 24 hours and determined that we could go home after that.
My doula wrote in her notes, "Mom smiled and laughed throughout the whole labor." And I wouldn't have remembered that, but I know that I did, I joked a lot too. It really helped to keep myself upbeat. I also cried and yelled at a few people, but they usually give you a pass for that when you're pushing out a person. The doctor, nurses and techs were all happy, upbeat and smiling afterward. They kept saying how happy they were, what a great experience it was, to see an all-natural birth, and how they wished it happened more often. They treated me like a queen. I loved it.
I felt very strong when I was pushing. I was scared of tearing but I didn't let the fear stop me or slow me down. The way out is through. I remembered it from Leo and I did it again.
I always wondered if my first natural labor and birth were kind of a fluke, if I just lucked out because the anesthesiologist was busy when I screamed for an epidural and found out I was 8cm. But this time I never asked for the epidural. I knew it was an option, that it could stop the runaway train at any time. But I didn't want to stop it. I wanted to do it.
So that's the story of Jack's arrival. And now we are four.
Monday, December 15, 2014
A wish come true.
We decided to celebrate Leo's 4th birthday a few weeks early this year with a party at his favorite indoor play-gym, his friends from school, and his and our friends from Matt's "work family." When I asked him what kind of theme he wanted for his party, he said: "I want a winter birthday, with snow."
Matt and I made a snow-themed birthday cake and I decorated with snowflake stickers and snowflake glitter. I kept it relatively low-key because I'm gigantically pregnant and unmotivated, but I wanted to make it special for him so we did our best to make it "snowy."
The morning of his party, he jumped out of bed and ran to the window to see if it had snowed. I explained that I couldn't REALLY make it snow, we were just going to make the party look a little wintery. It was a sweet moment and he understood.
The party was so much fun, the cake was delicious and Leo and all of his little friends had a great time.
And then, about halfway through the party, it started to snow. The first snow of the season.
It snowed for the rest of the party and it snowed all over us while we loaded up the car and drove home. By the time we got home, it had stopped and melted.
His wish came true. It was one of the sweetest, happiest, most magical little moments I've ever witnessed in my life.
____
____
"Babe, what day is it? Friday? Am I making an igloo out of sugarcubes at midnight on a Friday?"
What? Sometimes snow is off-white...er, yellow.
It took us three late nights to make this cake. I had no idea how hard proper cake-baking really was.
____
____
There were boys there too, I swear.
____
Happy 3 years and 49 weeks, my beloved boy. You are loved and treasured more than you could ever possibly know.
Thursday, November 27, 2014
3, going on 4.
Leo will be turning four in just about six weeks. I don't know how it happened that my baby is nearly four years old.
I feel as though I have calmed into motherhood. Maybe he has gotten easier, maybe life has gotten easier, maybe I have grown up. Maybe he has. I've always been so grateful to be a stay-at-home parent, but it is so hard some days, and I often find myself completely exhausted, especially if his daddy has been on a busy string of shifts and I've been mostly on my own.
But this week was so, so good. I'm now 34 weeks pregnant with the little boy and am having so much lower back pain that I find it hard to do much of anything for very long (including sleep), and Matt was on night shifts all week, and Leo's school was cancelled partially because of Thanksgiving and partially because of some kind of stomach flu that took all of the teachers down (thank heavens we haven't fallen victim - knock on wood). All of these are things that might have thrown me for a loop in the past. I do my best to keep Leo on a pretty regular schedule, but because Matt's work schedule changes so dramatically so often, it reflects in our home life, but this week we fell into a nice, calm routine, just the two of us, until Matt woke up around dinnertime to hang out before leaving for work. Breakfast, hanging out at home, some kind of morning activity like library or errands, lunch and nap, more hanging out, then a neighborhood walk (with scooter) before dinner and playtime with Papa (who Leo now usually calls "Dad").
I spent a few days doing some prep work for our little family Thanksgiving dinner, which we enjoyed tonight - a roasted turkey breast, gravy, mashed potatoes, wild rice stuffing, brussels sprouts and corn - I pulled it all off like I'd done it a hundred times before - with Leo underfoot, with Matt asleep. Could it be possible that I'm just getting better at...things? Could I just be calming down and enjoying being a homemaker more, without worrying and freaking out and being exhausted by everything? And how could that even possibly be happening right now, when I'm exhausted and sore most of the time? And I didn't even get sad or blue tonight after Matt left for work, after Leo went to bed - I usually feel lonely when we can't be with extended family on holidays - and although of course I missed them (hi Mom), I felt happy and satisfied with our lovely, low-key, happy little family Thanksgiving.
And maybe life is a little easier now, especially with Matt working a job that makes him so much happier, and living in a town where we feel happy and content, and a cozy home that is comfortable and easy to live in.
Or maybe I really am just getting better at it. At everything.
So this is why I'm freaking out.
I'm having another BABY. In a few WEEKS. Things just suddenly started looking easier and now I'm going to have a BABY. And a four-year-old. At the same time. Forever.
Our family dynamic is so beautiful, the three of us have so much fun. Matt and Leo are so incredibly close. Sometimes all I can do is just smile and take it all in. And even cry a little...it's kind of become a thing - "Mommy's happy crying again because she's pregnant."
So I'm scared for us to go from three to four. I worry that there is no way I can love both of those little boys the way I have been able to love and tend to Leo when he was my only child. I'm worried about having a difficult time again after his arrival. I dealt with depression and anxiety during Leo's first year - a lot of it was further complicated by so many things going on in our lives at the time (Matt's intern year, we were SO poor, living in that super dusty and hot little tiny apartment, losing our beloved pet) - I just don't want to feel that way again, I don't want to feel so lost again for so long. I think so much of it was just the shock of new parenthood. So maybe that will be better. Or will I feel the shock of being a mama of two just as strongly? Will breastfeeding be easier? Will I function better with no sleep?
Will things eventually feel normal again?
I know it's all temporary, each hard phase, and there's something new and different around the corner with your child all the time whether they are a newborn or four years old, but I just can't help but be a little apprehensive about the kinds of changes that are in our not-so-distant future.
I'm also really super excited to add another sweet boy to our family.
I feel as though I have calmed into motherhood. Maybe he has gotten easier, maybe life has gotten easier, maybe I have grown up. Maybe he has. I've always been so grateful to be a stay-at-home parent, but it is so hard some days, and I often find myself completely exhausted, especially if his daddy has been on a busy string of shifts and I've been mostly on my own.
But this week was so, so good. I'm now 34 weeks pregnant with the little boy and am having so much lower back pain that I find it hard to do much of anything for very long (including sleep), and Matt was on night shifts all week, and Leo's school was cancelled partially because of Thanksgiving and partially because of some kind of stomach flu that took all of the teachers down (thank heavens we haven't fallen victim - knock on wood). All of these are things that might have thrown me for a loop in the past. I do my best to keep Leo on a pretty regular schedule, but because Matt's work schedule changes so dramatically so often, it reflects in our home life, but this week we fell into a nice, calm routine, just the two of us, until Matt woke up around dinnertime to hang out before leaving for work. Breakfast, hanging out at home, some kind of morning activity like library or errands, lunch and nap, more hanging out, then a neighborhood walk (with scooter) before dinner and playtime with Papa (who Leo now usually calls "Dad").
I spent a few days doing some prep work for our little family Thanksgiving dinner, which we enjoyed tonight - a roasted turkey breast, gravy, mashed potatoes, wild rice stuffing, brussels sprouts and corn - I pulled it all off like I'd done it a hundred times before - with Leo underfoot, with Matt asleep. Could it be possible that I'm just getting better at...things? Could I just be calming down and enjoying being a homemaker more, without worrying and freaking out and being exhausted by everything? And how could that even possibly be happening right now, when I'm exhausted and sore most of the time? And I didn't even get sad or blue tonight after Matt left for work, after Leo went to bed - I usually feel lonely when we can't be with extended family on holidays - and although of course I missed them (hi Mom), I felt happy and satisfied with our lovely, low-key, happy little family Thanksgiving.
And maybe life is a little easier now, especially with Matt working a job that makes him so much happier, and living in a town where we feel happy and content, and a cozy home that is comfortable and easy to live in.
Or maybe I really am just getting better at it. At everything.
So this is why I'm freaking out.
I'm having another BABY. In a few WEEKS. Things just suddenly started looking easier and now I'm going to have a BABY. And a four-year-old. At the same time. Forever.
Our family dynamic is so beautiful, the three of us have so much fun. Matt and Leo are so incredibly close. Sometimes all I can do is just smile and take it all in. And even cry a little...it's kind of become a thing - "Mommy's happy crying again because she's pregnant."
So I'm scared for us to go from three to four. I worry that there is no way I can love both of those little boys the way I have been able to love and tend to Leo when he was my only child. I'm worried about having a difficult time again after his arrival. I dealt with depression and anxiety during Leo's first year - a lot of it was further complicated by so many things going on in our lives at the time (Matt's intern year, we were SO poor, living in that super dusty and hot little tiny apartment, losing our beloved pet) - I just don't want to feel that way again, I don't want to feel so lost again for so long. I think so much of it was just the shock of new parenthood. So maybe that will be better. Or will I feel the shock of being a mama of two just as strongly? Will breastfeeding be easier? Will I function better with no sleep?
Will things eventually feel normal again?
I know it's all temporary, each hard phase, and there's something new and different around the corner with your child all the time whether they are a newborn or four years old, but I just can't help but be a little apprehensive about the kinds of changes that are in our not-so-distant future.
I'm also really super excited to add another sweet boy to our family.
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Filters
Okay, we've been living in Prescott for nearly five months now, and I've yet to post an update. Life is very good, we are very happy, and I am VERY pregnant (now 32ish weeks). I'm also very cranky and moody and Matt therefore needs all of our thoughts and prayers.
I need to write a long, detailed update on our lives here now, but I'm not going to do that tonight, because what I really want to write about is Leo's filter. Or lack thereof. Or the work in progress that it is?
It is hard to teach a nearly-4-year-old to watch what he says to or in front of people about their appearance. We are learning to parent this a little better than the first time it came up earlier this year and took us by surprise - we were just about to get off of an airplane, and the 20-something girl sitting directly in front of Leo had an afro. "Hey Mommy! Look at that guy's funny hair! Papa! Look at that guy's funny funny funny hair!" We froze and stared at each other, and not knowing what to do or say, Matt hilariously responded by CLAMPING HIS HAND OVER LEO'S MOUTH as we tried not to dissolve into helpless, giggling, horrified messes. Of course, this only angered the 3-year-old, who responded by yelling much more loudly. "WHY ARE YOU COVERING MY MOUTH? LOOK AT THAT GUY'S FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY HAIR! WHY ARE YOU COVERING MY MOUTH?"
We learned our lesson, and apologized to Leo later and talked about how people's feelings can get hurt sometimes when you say something about them looks "funny" or "weird." (The afro-wearing girl never acknowledged that she heard anything.)
So here are some more recent filter failures that have been talking points on the home front:
[Walking by a large lady who smiled and said hello to us in the grocery store] WOW, Mommy, that lady has a BIG BIG BIG tummy.
[Sitting in a restaurant, a very large man walked by the window - outside, thankfully] HEY MAMA HEY PAPA LOOK AT THAT GUY'S BIG BIG BIG BUTT!
[To my dad] Grandpa, you have SUCH a big head.
[To me] Oh Mama. I wish I had a big, big butt like you. [Passing by me] Excuse me, Big Butt.
(The one directed to me is a hard one for me. I don't really care that he called my butt big. For one thing, my butt IS bigger than usual right now at seven months pregnant. I don't want him to see me have unnecessary or silly issues about my body. So I just ignore or laugh it off, or tell him that someday he will grow big and tall and his butt will be bigger.)
We've been calmly asking him to wait and tell us these kinds of things when he is alone with us, so that people's feelings don't get hurt. We were beginning to wonder if it would ever sink in. Then, the other day, Leo and I were at a restaurant with my parents. I was sitting across the table from him. His eyes suddenly got very big and he looked at me and quietly said:
L: Mommy, do you want to talk about something?
Me: (pause)...Okay. What do you want to talk about?
L: (glancing around me at something behind me)...I just need to talk about something.
Me: Is it something we should talk about later at home?
L: Yes. (looking behind me again) But Mommy...do you see it?
(I very slowly and casually looked behind myself and saw a man with a very, very shiny bald head.)
Me: Yes. Let's talk about it later, okay? Thank you, honey.
He actually did let it go, but as soon as we got home:
L: Mommy, do you want to talk about something now?
Me: Yes. It's fine to talk now! What do you want to talk about?
L: MOMMY DID YOU SEE THAT GUY'S BIG BIG BIG SHINY HEAD WITH NO HAIR ON IT!!!!????
...
Parenthood is hard to put into words sometimes. It's hard to explain how hearing a sentence like that can make you SO INCREDIBLY PROUD you can't believe it. Nothing compares to the sudden realization that something you are doing, as a parent, really IS sinking in.
Now let me try to explain that to all of the people in the restaurant this morning when we were leaving and Leo was running to the exit repeatedly shouting, "I HAVE AN ITCHY BUTT!"
I need to write a long, detailed update on our lives here now, but I'm not going to do that tonight, because what I really want to write about is Leo's filter. Or lack thereof. Or the work in progress that it is?
It is hard to teach a nearly-4-year-old to watch what he says to or in front of people about their appearance. We are learning to parent this a little better than the first time it came up earlier this year and took us by surprise - we were just about to get off of an airplane, and the 20-something girl sitting directly in front of Leo had an afro. "Hey Mommy! Look at that guy's funny hair! Papa! Look at that guy's funny funny funny hair!" We froze and stared at each other, and not knowing what to do or say, Matt hilariously responded by CLAMPING HIS HAND OVER LEO'S MOUTH as we tried not to dissolve into helpless, giggling, horrified messes. Of course, this only angered the 3-year-old, who responded by yelling much more loudly. "WHY ARE YOU COVERING MY MOUTH? LOOK AT THAT GUY'S FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY HAIR! WHY ARE YOU COVERING MY MOUTH?"
We learned our lesson, and apologized to Leo later and talked about how people's feelings can get hurt sometimes when you say something about them looks "funny" or "weird." (The afro-wearing girl never acknowledged that she heard anything.)
So here are some more recent filter failures that have been talking points on the home front:
[Walking by a large lady who smiled and said hello to us in the grocery store] WOW, Mommy, that lady has a BIG BIG BIG tummy.
[Sitting in a restaurant, a very large man walked by the window - outside, thankfully] HEY MAMA HEY PAPA LOOK AT THAT GUY'S BIG BIG BIG BUTT!
[To my dad] Grandpa, you have SUCH a big head.
[To me] Oh Mama. I wish I had a big, big butt like you. [Passing by me] Excuse me, Big Butt.
(The one directed to me is a hard one for me. I don't really care that he called my butt big. For one thing, my butt IS bigger than usual right now at seven months pregnant. I don't want him to see me have unnecessary or silly issues about my body. So I just ignore or laugh it off, or tell him that someday he will grow big and tall and his butt will be bigger.)
We've been calmly asking him to wait and tell us these kinds of things when he is alone with us, so that people's feelings don't get hurt. We were beginning to wonder if it would ever sink in. Then, the other day, Leo and I were at a restaurant with my parents. I was sitting across the table from him. His eyes suddenly got very big and he looked at me and quietly said:
L: Mommy, do you want to talk about something?
Me: (pause)...Okay. What do you want to talk about?
L: (glancing around me at something behind me)...I just need to talk about something.
Me: Is it something we should talk about later at home?
L: Yes. (looking behind me again) But Mommy...do you see it?
(I very slowly and casually looked behind myself and saw a man with a very, very shiny bald head.)
Me: Yes. Let's talk about it later, okay? Thank you, honey.
He actually did let it go, but as soon as we got home:
L: Mommy, do you want to talk about something now?
Me: Yes. It's fine to talk now! What do you want to talk about?
L: MOMMY DID YOU SEE THAT GUY'S BIG BIG BIG SHINY HEAD WITH NO HAIR ON IT!!!!????
...
Parenthood is hard to put into words sometimes. It's hard to explain how hearing a sentence like that can make you SO INCREDIBLY PROUD you can't believe it. Nothing compares to the sudden realization that something you are doing, as a parent, really IS sinking in.
Now let me try to explain that to all of the people in the restaurant this morning when we were leaving and Leo was running to the exit repeatedly shouting, "I HAVE AN ITCHY BUTT!"
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Leaving the ocean.
We have five more days in Santa Cruz. I'm getting so excited for our new adventure, but at the same time I feel a deep sense of mourning for the life here we are leaving behind.
We've been doing our best to really take advantage of the beach while we are still here. The surf here has been woefully nonexistent for the past month or more, so my poor husband has not been able to get out and enjoy surfing at all. But we've been trying to go down to the beach almost every evening, to dig in the sand, run around and/or splash in the waves. Leo and Matt like to splash, I like to watch (that water is crazy cold and I don't have a wetsuit).
The beach has been a huge part of our family life since Matt and my pregnant self moved to the little apartment 1/2 block from Hermosa Beach over four years ago. I spent Leo's infant days walking the strand, patting his back and praying for a nap.
But strangely, it wasn't until we moved here that I truly, profoundly fell in love with the ocean. The beaches up north here are different - they are wilder, craggier, cliffier, windier, chillier, with more tidepools, sea otters, foggy mornings and humbling sunsets. I can't believe how lucky I feel that we have gotten to live next to this breathtaking beach for six months. It has been incredible.
Here are some of my favorites from our time in the Black's Beach 'hood:
Goodbye, Pacific Ocean. We won't be neighbors anymore, but my heart will never stop running to you and these memories you gave me.
We've been doing our best to really take advantage of the beach while we are still here. The surf here has been woefully nonexistent for the past month or more, so my poor husband has not been able to get out and enjoy surfing at all. But we've been trying to go down to the beach almost every evening, to dig in the sand, run around and/or splash in the waves. Leo and Matt like to splash, I like to watch (that water is crazy cold and I don't have a wetsuit).
The beach has been a huge part of our family life since Matt and my pregnant self moved to the little apartment 1/2 block from Hermosa Beach over four years ago. I spent Leo's infant days walking the strand, patting his back and praying for a nap.
But strangely, it wasn't until we moved here that I truly, profoundly fell in love with the ocean. The beaches up north here are different - they are wilder, craggier, cliffier, windier, chillier, with more tidepools, sea otters, foggy mornings and humbling sunsets. I can't believe how lucky I feel that we have gotten to live next to this breathtaking beach for six months. It has been incredible.
Here are some of my favorites from our time in the Black's Beach 'hood:
Goodbye, Pacific Ocean. We won't be neighbors anymore, but my heart will never stop running to you and these memories you gave me.
Monday, June 16, 2014
So much, so much...
We are moving. Again.
I guess it's been SEVEN MONTHS since I have posted anything on here. Yikes. So much has happened that I don't even know what I should start typing about first.
We moved across town around the turn of the new year and lived in the coolest. house. ever. which was just a block up from the coolest. beach. ever. We've had this huge backyard, a big front yard, a little creek, lemon trees, lots of space and even a crazy outdoor bathtub for post-beach sand removal. I rented one of our rooms as a vacation rental and met a lot of cool people and made some money (first job since becoming a mom!). It has been so fun.
Leo started preschool at the most wonderful place - Rocking Horse Ranch. They have chickens, goats, geese, a llama, fruit trees, a garden, a mud pit, bikes, tall dangerous things to climb...he came home every day filthy, covered in mud and paint, and so happy. Their philosophy is all about creating a confident, independent and caring child, as well as letting children have freedom to explore in a setting that is not completely sterile and not over-protective. Leo learned about fire, dangerous plants, cutting with sharp tools and climbing very tall trees. Their inclusive and empathy-based discipline policy is incredible, all of the kids really want to be good to each other. It has been so incredibly good for him.
But somewhere in the midst of this we started questioning our life here - should we be spending so much money to live in this state, even though it's wonderful and awesome and dreamy? Should Matt stay in his job, even though there are probably better jobs for him? Should we be spending less to live and saving more money in the hopes of buying a house of our own (something that is nearly impossible, we have learned, for young families to do in Santa Cruz on their own)? And just as we were starting to ask ourselves these questions, Matt got a surprise phone call from a friend in Arizona - with an incredible job offer. It took us several weeks and a visit to make the choice, but we finally decided to go for it.
So in two weeks, we will drive off with our life packed up into a huge Uhaul, a pickup truck and our trusty, embarrassingly-bright-blue Toyota Highlander and start our next adventure in Prescott, Arizona!
Prescott is a gorgeous, old-West kind of small town. It has beautiful mountains and buttes, huge state forests with endless trails, an adorable town square and no less than four parades at Christmastime. We will be 1-2 hours in various directions from the Grand Canyon, Flagstaff, Sedona and Phoenix. Matt's job sounds very promising, with lots of young, happy docs with young kids, all very close-knit. When he becomes a partner in a couple of years, he will have a MONTH of vacation every year!
This will be our sixth city and fourth state together in thirteen years. We are sad to leave Santa Cruz, we wish we could have stayed here longer. But we truly enjoyed it as much as we could, we traveled and road-tripped all over northern California (as far north as Mendocino!) and explored San Francisco, and every beach on Highway 1 on the way to that amazing city. We fully exploited our Monterey Aquarium memberships, hiked in Big Sur and ate fried artichokes. Matt surfed as much as he could and Leo explored so, so many tidepools. I'm sad to leave the ocean. I'm nervous about moving to another new state/town with my little boy. But after so many years and so many new adventures, I just don't believe in "wrong choices" anymore. Each new place we have lived has presented us with endless new paths and experiences, friends, adventures. This will be the same.
And I'll end with a Leo quote. "Sometimes my fart is a bubble, and my butt pops it."
I guess it's been SEVEN MONTHS since I have posted anything on here. Yikes. So much has happened that I don't even know what I should start typing about first.
We moved across town around the turn of the new year and lived in the coolest. house. ever. which was just a block up from the coolest. beach. ever. We've had this huge backyard, a big front yard, a little creek, lemon trees, lots of space and even a crazy outdoor bathtub for post-beach sand removal. I rented one of our rooms as a vacation rental and met a lot of cool people and made some money (first job since becoming a mom!). It has been so fun.
Leo started preschool at the most wonderful place - Rocking Horse Ranch. They have chickens, goats, geese, a llama, fruit trees, a garden, a mud pit, bikes, tall dangerous things to climb...he came home every day filthy, covered in mud and paint, and so happy. Their philosophy is all about creating a confident, independent and caring child, as well as letting children have freedom to explore in a setting that is not completely sterile and not over-protective. Leo learned about fire, dangerous plants, cutting with sharp tools and climbing very tall trees. Their inclusive and empathy-based discipline policy is incredible, all of the kids really want to be good to each other. It has been so incredibly good for him.
But somewhere in the midst of this we started questioning our life here - should we be spending so much money to live in this state, even though it's wonderful and awesome and dreamy? Should Matt stay in his job, even though there are probably better jobs for him? Should we be spending less to live and saving more money in the hopes of buying a house of our own (something that is nearly impossible, we have learned, for young families to do in Santa Cruz on their own)? And just as we were starting to ask ourselves these questions, Matt got a surprise phone call from a friend in Arizona - with an incredible job offer. It took us several weeks and a visit to make the choice, but we finally decided to go for it.
So in two weeks, we will drive off with our life packed up into a huge Uhaul, a pickup truck and our trusty, embarrassingly-bright-blue Toyota Highlander and start our next adventure in Prescott, Arizona!
Prescott is a gorgeous, old-West kind of small town. It has beautiful mountains and buttes, huge state forests with endless trails, an adorable town square and no less than four parades at Christmastime. We will be 1-2 hours in various directions from the Grand Canyon, Flagstaff, Sedona and Phoenix. Matt's job sounds very promising, with lots of young, happy docs with young kids, all very close-knit. When he becomes a partner in a couple of years, he will have a MONTH of vacation every year!
This will be our sixth city and fourth state together in thirteen years. We are sad to leave Santa Cruz, we wish we could have stayed here longer. But we truly enjoyed it as much as we could, we traveled and road-tripped all over northern California (as far north as Mendocino!) and explored San Francisco, and every beach on Highway 1 on the way to that amazing city. We fully exploited our Monterey Aquarium memberships, hiked in Big Sur and ate fried artichokes. Matt surfed as much as he could and Leo explored so, so many tidepools. I'm sad to leave the ocean. I'm nervous about moving to another new state/town with my little boy. But after so many years and so many new adventures, I just don't believe in "wrong choices" anymore. Each new place we have lived has presented us with endless new paths and experiences, friends, adventures. This will be the same.
And I'll end with a Leo quote. "Sometimes my fart is a bubble, and my butt pops it."
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