"I think I've discovered the secret of life-
You just hang around until you get used to it."
Charles M. Schultz
Saturday, October 4, 2014
Friday, October 3, 2014
Sleeping Babes
There is something so precious about a sleeping child, right?
As I sit here watching Cora eat grapes, Ms. Ruby is having a rare departure from her 10 minute naps, and has been sleeping for over three hours.
At one point this afternoon, the three of us lay stretched out on my California king bed, me wedged between two small little girlies, one of them snoring loudly while the other whimpered and reached for me with tiny little fingers.
So sweet, so sweet.
Sometimes I am happy that I still lay down with Cora when she goes to sleep. I still get a chance to snuggle her smallness, after the wiggles and the protests and the shrieks have died down. I get to touch her soft hair, and cover her with her blankets and give her a kiss and feel that intense piercing feeling of love for a moment that feels longer than the moments in the rest of the day. Because those moments these days are interrupted by a crying hungry baby, or a toddler that desperately wants something but refuses (or is unable) to tell me what that is.
Those moments just don't linger as long as they used to when Cora was a baby sleeping easily in my arms.
I can't go back in time. With Cora it is clear we are marching forward, even at a mysterious pace. Ruby too is growing and changing and showing us that this infancy phase won't last that much longer. But she's still my sweet baby girl, and I am trying to soak it all up... knowing this will be the last of my babies to sleep in my arms.
Ooops, I think I hear Ruby waking up. And I am being summoned to come with yogurt. Good thing I am a mom and I can do a million things at once.
As I sit here watching Cora eat grapes, Ms. Ruby is having a rare departure from her 10 minute naps, and has been sleeping for over three hours.
At one point this afternoon, the three of us lay stretched out on my California king bed, me wedged between two small little girlies, one of them snoring loudly while the other whimpered and reached for me with tiny little fingers.
So sweet, so sweet.
Sometimes I am happy that I still lay down with Cora when she goes to sleep. I still get a chance to snuggle her smallness, after the wiggles and the protests and the shrieks have died down. I get to touch her soft hair, and cover her with her blankets and give her a kiss and feel that intense piercing feeling of love for a moment that feels longer than the moments in the rest of the day. Because those moments these days are interrupted by a crying hungry baby, or a toddler that desperately wants something but refuses (or is unable) to tell me what that is.
Those moments just don't linger as long as they used to when Cora was a baby sleeping easily in my arms.
I can't go back in time. With Cora it is clear we are marching forward, even at a mysterious pace. Ruby too is growing and changing and showing us that this infancy phase won't last that much longer. But she's still my sweet baby girl, and I am trying to soak it all up... knowing this will be the last of my babies to sleep in my arms.
Ooops, I think I hear Ruby waking up. And I am being summoned to come with yogurt. Good thing I am a mom and I can do a million things at once.
Thursday, October 2, 2014
My Girls
I seem to be afloat in a sea of ups and downs these days. One minute I am in awe and pure bliss over the sweetness of my two favorite girls.
And others, it's all I can do not to scream and shut myself in the bathroom with a bottle of wine shortly past lunch.
Parenting is a tough gig. And it's definitely made tougher by sleep deprivation, a full schedule and a need to make money on top. But it's still pretty sweet a lot of the time.
Take these girls, for example.
They seem to be pretty into one another. Cora loves to help with her baby sister, and even if that takes the form of trying to wake her up once I finally have her asleep for more than a 10 minute nap, it's pretty darn adorable. Seeing Ruby's big grins up at her sister, or Cora walking up to me with my baby sling dangling to her ankles as she insists that I put Ruby into it.... well, what could be better than that?
Cora is adjusting pretty well. She is mostly very happy to have Ruby around. But she does have her moments of frustration and lashing out at Ruby. And she certainly has her moments of lashing out at me. Luckily she has recently started preschool, so she has something else to do that is fully focused on her, and for that I am grateful. But it's tough not getting to be the center of Mom's world all the time. So I try and give her a little slack, when I can find it in me.
Overall, she is quite a trooper. And she's really turning into such a big girl. Where did my baby go?
And others, it's all I can do not to scream and shut myself in the bathroom with a bottle of wine shortly past lunch.
Parenting is a tough gig. And it's definitely made tougher by sleep deprivation, a full schedule and a need to make money on top. But it's still pretty sweet a lot of the time.
Take these girls, for example.
They seem to be pretty into one another. Cora loves to help with her baby sister, and even if that takes the form of trying to wake her up once I finally have her asleep for more than a 10 minute nap, it's pretty darn adorable. Seeing Ruby's big grins up at her sister, or Cora walking up to me with my baby sling dangling to her ankles as she insists that I put Ruby into it.... well, what could be better than that?
Cora is adjusting pretty well. She is mostly very happy to have Ruby around. But she does have her moments of frustration and lashing out at Ruby. And she certainly has her moments of lashing out at me. Luckily she has recently started preschool, so she has something else to do that is fully focused on her, and for that I am grateful. But it's tough not getting to be the center of Mom's world all the time. So I try and give her a little slack, when I can find it in me.
Overall, she is quite a trooper. And she's really turning into such a big girl. Where did my baby go?
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Down Syndrome Awareness Month
It is October 1st, the kick-off of Down Syndrome Awareness month.
For the past three Octobers, I have posted daily for the occasion. But this month that task seems entirely overwhelming. Things like showering tend to get pushed to the back burner these days, and it's a sincere struggle to get the bare minimum done on a daily basis, with my two little attention-seeking girls attached to me at all times, and a to-do list that never seems to dwindle.
I'd like to do it, I really would. I'd like to think I could find even a moment every day. I may try. But I am reserving the right to grant myself a little slack. So we will just have to see.
Today I will simply post a photo of the hilarious, silly, adventurous, sweet, loving (and today, infuriating) little girl who has made me this month mean something to me.
To my lovely little Cora girl. Happy Down Syndrome Awareness month to YOU.
For the past three Octobers, I have posted daily for the occasion. But this month that task seems entirely overwhelming. Things like showering tend to get pushed to the back burner these days, and it's a sincere struggle to get the bare minimum done on a daily basis, with my two little attention-seeking girls attached to me at all times, and a to-do list that never seems to dwindle.
I'd like to do it, I really would. I'd like to think I could find even a moment every day. I may try. But I am reserving the right to grant myself a little slack. So we will just have to see.
Today I will simply post a photo of the hilarious, silly, adventurous, sweet, loving (and today, infuriating) little girl who has made me this month mean something to me.
To my lovely little Cora girl. Happy Down Syndrome Awareness month to YOU.
 |
| Even all scratched up, it's a beautiful face. |
Thursday, September 25, 2014
On the Other Side of Worry
I've been trying to find the time to sit down and write this post since shortly after Ruby was born, but somehow I keep coming up short. But it's something that I want to write down before the freshness of it escapes me.
It's not uncommon to share feelings of grief, sadness and even self-pity surrounding your child's diagnosis. And though I did feel some of those feelings when Cora was born, as time has gone by, the most charged emotions have surrounded how I feel about the first few months of Cora's life. There has been so much trauma for me surrounding Cora's difficult delivery, her NICU stay, the heart failure that caused so much distress and difficulty, and the dreadful, paralyzing weeks of waiting for open heart surgery. The first three months of Cora's life were so full of fear and heartache. After that intense immediate fear was behind us and the euphoria hit, it took me awhile to realize that I was still grieving. But I wasn't grieving that Cora wasn't what I wanted; I was grieving for an experience that I had wanted and didn't have. I was grieving my idea of what having a child should be; snuggles and smiles, and time spent at home. I even grieved for the standard sleepless nights and crying. Most of all, I lamented that the introduction to the person that I loved like no other was so very hard and so terrifying.
And as selfish as it sounds, I have often found myself wallowing in self-pity. When a friend or family member has welcomed a baby, instead of being able to just be happy to witness their joy, I would find myself crying in the car, and quietly confiding in my husband how very jealous I was to see everything going so well. I ached for the typical experience, for falling in love with a healthy baby without worrying for their life, for how very easy it all seemed in comparison (even when I knew well that it's never really easy).
And knowing this about me made me a little afraid for the birth of Cora's sister. I definitely feared having to go through difficult medical challenges again, but in a way, I feared even more how I would feel if our second baby did not have a medically tumultuous beginning. I worried that having Ruby might make me grieve for my experience with Cora even more. And the thought that I would actively compare the two experiences made me feel like a traitor.
But what I actually felt surprised me. Ruby was born after an intense but easy delivery, in the warm cocoon of my own home. We didn't leave the bed for about three days, and then spent the first three weeks as a family of four while Nick stayed home from work. So far Ruby has had only well child visits. There have been no big medical scares, specialists or hospital stays. The only health hiccups have been some reflux, and a short period of time where we needlessly worried about something totally typical. In fact, on Sunday Ruby was the exact age that Cora was when she had her open heart surgery. It's all been so seamless. So lovely. Hard yes, as we adjust to an increasingly independent and defiant three year old and a baby who is fussier than we've experienced and trying to juggle the two of them. But sweet and mellow, and in all reality, much much easier.
And as for how I have felt about Cora? At peace. Getting my coveted "typical newborn experience" surprisingly didn't exacerbate my trauma over Cora's beginnings. I didn't find myself comparing the two over tears and whispered confessions to Nick. I found myself comparing a little, sure: remembering how very tiny Cora was, reminiscing on her newborn sweetness, and smiling about the differences between my two girls. But it didn't make me sad. It didn't make me feel guilty. In fact, it has somehow strangely started to heal my painful memories.
These experiences have been so different. My girls are so different. But they are both mine. And I am starting to be able to appreciate just how important these experiences have been, and just how intricately woven they are into one another and into myself. Instead of re-visiting my pain I am finding myself soothed, stronger and more whole. It must have been the plan all along.
It's not uncommon to share feelings of grief, sadness and even self-pity surrounding your child's diagnosis. And though I did feel some of those feelings when Cora was born, as time has gone by, the most charged emotions have surrounded how I feel about the first few months of Cora's life. There has been so much trauma for me surrounding Cora's difficult delivery, her NICU stay, the heart failure that caused so much distress and difficulty, and the dreadful, paralyzing weeks of waiting for open heart surgery. The first three months of Cora's life were so full of fear and heartache. After that intense immediate fear was behind us and the euphoria hit, it took me awhile to realize that I was still grieving. But I wasn't grieving that Cora wasn't what I wanted; I was grieving for an experience that I had wanted and didn't have. I was grieving my idea of what having a child should be; snuggles and smiles, and time spent at home. I even grieved for the standard sleepless nights and crying. Most of all, I lamented that the introduction to the person that I loved like no other was so very hard and so terrifying.
And as selfish as it sounds, I have often found myself wallowing in self-pity. When a friend or family member has welcomed a baby, instead of being able to just be happy to witness their joy, I would find myself crying in the car, and quietly confiding in my husband how very jealous I was to see everything going so well. I ached for the typical experience, for falling in love with a healthy baby without worrying for their life, for how very easy it all seemed in comparison (even when I knew well that it's never really easy).
And knowing this about me made me a little afraid for the birth of Cora's sister. I definitely feared having to go through difficult medical challenges again, but in a way, I feared even more how I would feel if our second baby did not have a medically tumultuous beginning. I worried that having Ruby might make me grieve for my experience with Cora even more. And the thought that I would actively compare the two experiences made me feel like a traitor.
But what I actually felt surprised me. Ruby was born after an intense but easy delivery, in the warm cocoon of my own home. We didn't leave the bed for about three days, and then spent the first three weeks as a family of four while Nick stayed home from work. So far Ruby has had only well child visits. There have been no big medical scares, specialists or hospital stays. The only health hiccups have been some reflux, and a short period of time where we needlessly worried about something totally typical. In fact, on Sunday Ruby was the exact age that Cora was when she had her open heart surgery. It's all been so seamless. So lovely. Hard yes, as we adjust to an increasingly independent and defiant three year old and a baby who is fussier than we've experienced and trying to juggle the two of them. But sweet and mellow, and in all reality, much much easier.
And as for how I have felt about Cora? At peace. Getting my coveted "typical newborn experience" surprisingly didn't exacerbate my trauma over Cora's beginnings. I didn't find myself comparing the two over tears and whispered confessions to Nick. I found myself comparing a little, sure: remembering how very tiny Cora was, reminiscing on her newborn sweetness, and smiling about the differences between my two girls. But it didn't make me sad. It didn't make me feel guilty. In fact, it has somehow strangely started to heal my painful memories.
These experiences have been so different. My girls are so different. But they are both mine. And I am starting to be able to appreciate just how important these experiences have been, and just how intricately woven they are into one another and into myself. Instead of re-visiting my pain I am finding myself soothed, stronger and more whole. It must have been the plan all along.
 |
| My love: Cora, almost 12 weeks old, just before OHS. |
 |
| My love: Ruby, almost 12 weeks old, playing with Grammie. |
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Buddy Walk!
We are wrapping the weekend around here as we celebrated Cora with her 4th Buddy Walk.
I can hardly believe it. It was a very chaotic weekend, and though we are exhausted and a bit overwhelmed, it's impossible not to feel very loved.
The weekend itself was a little bit crazy. Miss Ruby decided to scream through much of the walk and the time after, so we found ourselves seeking shade and lying down on a blanket on the cement to calm her down for a good portion of the festivities. Oh, and I thought we lost Cora for a few minutes (who really was with her dad), so that caused a good panic. And Cora came down with a new and exciting rash and swelling that took us to the ER instead of home after the walk. (But she is fine.)
But she did walk and run, dance and play, hula hoop and sing. And we loved seeing how far she has come.
Even though the weekend felt like all kinds of damage control, seeing my loved ones come out celebrate Cora is a feeling I don't think I will ever tire of.
I may not have quite the euphoria that other Buddy Walks have brought out, but I can honestly say that I am so grateful for the friends and family that came out to support us, the family members who came into town for the event, and for all our wonderful community friends.
Thank you.
Sunday, August 24, 2014
On Her Own Two Feet
This little girl has been learning how to get by on her own two feet so much this summer.
It's quite amazing, really. To think that she's only been a full-time independent walker since last November, seeing her racing around, climbing with confidence and exploring the world with her body is so impressive.
It's also been a little bit terrifying for me, and a pretty big lesson in learning to let go just a bit and to trust.
During the last four months of my pregnancy we didn't do a whole lot. Right when park-going season started, I began to have serious difficulty being on my feet. So our daily 10-minute walks to the park turned into occasional drives to the park, where I'd hobble around after her. For a long time they stopped altogether unless Nick could take her.
What should have been the time for her to really start getting steady on those feet and on uneven surfaces became way more time in the house, and endless viewings of Frozen. And there was lots of Mommy guilt about it.
When I was able to accompany Nick and Cora to the park at the end of the pregnancy and when Ruby was just born, I'd watch from the sidelines, having episodes of major anxiety and hiding my eyes as I saw that Cora no longer climbed up the stairs on the play structure on hands and knees, but walked up holding onto the railing. Nick no longer followed her up to spot her, but stood down below the openings just in case. I watched her hang onto the bars and swing her body over the tops of the slides, bear crawl up huge slides, and climb up structures with some pretty adept new skills.
Knowing that she's still a bit unsteady sometimes, and that when she gets nervous around other kids she will slowly step back or to the side terrified me, as I envisioned her plummeting down the 40 foot drops by accident. (OK, I know... it was probably only 6 feet at the most.)
I swore I'd never be able to handle taking both girls to the park alone; that my blood pressure just couldn't take it.
But over the past three weeks I've finally been brave enough. And I must admit it, I'm pretty darn proud of this girl.
Proud of her spirit, of her joy, of her willingness to throw herself into new things, even if right now her new experiences are limited to the playground.
Very soon she'll be throwing herself into something entirely new. Preschool. Just the thought makes me start to shake a little. She'll be starting at a cooperative preschool two mornings a week in September. I'm pretty sure she will be the only kid with a disability. I have a list of my worries (including safety on the playground and in the classroom, especially with her tendency to run). But I think the strongest current of worry I have is how she'll fit in. Will the other kids relate to her? Will she make friends? As a coop preschool, the parents are teachers in the classroom a couple times a month. Will the other parents warm up to her, or will they feel that she's a burden? Will I feel like the outsider as a "special needs mom"? Does the fact that I am even having these thoughts mean that I am already setting us apart?
I really don't know how any of it will work out. But I am hopeful. I am excited for Cora and for these new opportunities. I am excited to be finally starting her real organized educational experience, and for her to be included in a typical classroom, as a part of a community.
I am looking forward to seeing her plant her brave little feet on new ground and take off running. I only hope I can keep up.
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