Mom Mistakes

I just committed so many mom mistakes that you’d think I was a total rookie at this mom thing. I definitely have a long way to go, but I also should have known better. It started last night when I set myself up for failure by telling another mom that we’ve been going through a really good phase. The best way to end a streak of success is to acknowledge it, so I really brought all of this on myself. The mistakes continued this morning when I optimistically left the house, one- and three-year-old in tow, to go swimsuit shopping for myself. My need for a swimsuit has reached critical importance. After wearing the same tankini for seven-and-a-half years, it has had the audacity to begin wearing through on both the top and bottom, creating rather large areas that should be covered and aren’t. Therefore, I could put off the dreaded task no more. My hubby has even sent me alone, but I have come back unsuccessful, desperately trying to find a suit that’s appropriate for chasing around my little ones but not appropriate for my grandma. So, this morning I thought, “Emma will think it’s exciting to pick something out for Mommy. We so rarely shop for anything for me. She will have fun watching Mommy try suits on in front of a huge mirror. Lily’s a pretty content baby. All will be well.” Pride cometh before the fall, and a truly experienced mom knows never to get too comfortable or too confident. My next error in judgment was running into a store trying to travel lightly and quickly (as lightly and quickly as you can travel with a double stroller), and therefore leaving the diaper bag with critical snacks in the minivan. Therefore, I found myself in the dressing room with a three-year-old who had absolutely no interest in seeing Mommy play dress up after the first couple of suits and a one-year-old who was hungry, tired, and making a noise that anyone but her mother (okay, even me) would have referred to as, “The most annoying sound in the world, easily surpassing fingernails on the chalkboard.” She continued to be adorable, but that didn’t help our cause, as no one could see how cute she was as she emitted an ear piercing noise from inside the dressing room. Fellow shoppers, my own children, retail staff, may I apologize on behalf of myself. My offspring know not what they do. I truly brought this on all of us. And after all of this, including a three-year-old who continually “accidentally” knocked the swimsuits off of the stroller and therefore into a big, tangled mess, I felt that I had to leave the store buying something. I’m not even sure I like what I got. So, at the register, I asked the kind lady, “Is this returnable? We ran out of patience. (And the kids weren’t too happy, either.)” Upon reaching the car, we had a very silent ride home. L fell asleep within ten seconds of take off, and I think Emma was going for self-preservation when she saw Mommy’s very frazzled face. What have I learned from this series of unfortunate events? Never, ever machine wash your swimsuit. If I had only hand washed it, I could have put this whole event off until someday when my girls are old enough that I will be begging them to find swimsuits that look just a little bit more like something their grandma would wear.

Expect the Unexpected

From the time I first learned that I was expecting, I have had to learn to expect the unexpected in parenting. Even my own emotional reactions often surprise me. Thursday night, I breastfed Lily for the very last time. After thirteen months of close bonding, in part through regular feedings (she refused a bottle from early on), I prepared to go through several tissues that night. After all, I cried the night that I fed Emma for the last time. Lily is the baby of the family, so I thought that there would be even more tears, more nostalgia. I had warm feelings about feeding my sweet Lily, being able to hold her close and help her grow throughout her first year of life. I took video of her just before her final feeding, had Conant take some photos of her eating for our private files. I mentally prepared for the emotional fallout. I did let her eat as long as she wanted, even when she repeatedly fell asleep. I did give her extra kisses, stroke her hair lovingly, think back to how tiny she was the first time I fed her. I held her close, prayed for her, thought of how much I love her. Then, when it was over, I had a startling realization. My cheeks were Sahara desert dry, my eyes not even close to shedding a single drop. I did feel a strong tug on my heart for Lily and the sadness she might feel when she realized that life as she knew it was different, but I also felt relief. Between pregnancies and breastfeeding, my body has nourished my children for forty-six months. That’s forty-six months of being extremely conscious of what I put in my body, forty-six months of being hypersensitive that the things I do could somehow harm my children, forty-six months of analyzing foods, beverages, cleaners I use, medicines I take. Admittedly, I am my own worst critic and have probably been vigilant even beyond what is necessary, but I have worried nonetheless. And though I am beyond grateful to have had the chance to carry my children, to feed them, to care for them in any way possible, on that night, I felt relief. I felt relief for seemingly silly things like the chance to eat chocolate cake and not worry about the caffeine. I felt joy at the thought that I can go run errands or meet a friend for dinner and not have to rush back for a feeding. I felt contentment that I had made it to thirteen months with both girls, persevering through thrush for months on end, plugged ducts, mastitis that was worse than any flu I’ve experienced, hourly nighttime feedings in the early months, calls and visits to lactation consultants, a concerned hubby who repeatedly told me that he would have quit and I could, too. And, being a mother, I felt a bit of guilt for this joy, this relief. However, the guilt faded when Lily finally slept twelve and eleven hours straight the following two nights. It seems that, as life as she knew it changed, she decided that we didn’t need our middle of the night appointments. Even better, her affection for me has not dwindled at all even though the dairy is closed. As I write this post, I am enjoying my first glass of wine in a very long time, and I am enjoying it guilt free. I will always cherish the opportunity that I had to nourish my babies. If I had to do it all again, I would beg for the chance to be pregnant and breastfeed. But knowing that it is now a part of my mothering history makes me appreciate it in a new way, not wishing for it to continue, just being grateful that it was.

The Age of Imitation

Emma is at such a fun age of imitation. This can be daunting as a mother, as I am modeling with every move I make whether I intend to or not. Nevertheless, it is also touching to have such influence on someone I love with all of my heart. Today, she was my sous chef as we made homemade granola and chocolate chip bars, saying, “Mommy, I love to help you.” One-year-old Lily got in on the action, urgently begging to help pat the granola into the pan until I let her have a turn. Emma was a sweet big sister, saying, “That made her so happy, Mommy.” Even those words echoed mine when I reminded her that it makes Lily so happy when E shares her toys. Later today, as I prepared to sweep the kitchen floor, Emma ran to get the broom for me, “helping” by wielding the adult-sized broom as best she could and trying to sweep as I do, starting in the all-you-didn’t-eat-buffet of our kitchen, under the table. While I was scrubbing the toilet, she grabbed the toilet brush and gave it her best effort. I was amazed at how she already knew how to do it just from observing. The icing on the cake, though, came as I was cleaning the shower and she was watching my every move. I absolutely love the wonderment, the questions, the learning of a three-year-old. As I scrubbed with a toothbrush that is, of course, reserved for cleaning, Emma leaned in closely and asked, “Whose toothbrush is that, Mommy?” I tried to imagine what went through her mind. Still, I couldn’t decide if she was horrified or simply filing one more procedure away as the method she plans to use to clean her house someday. And once again, the power of parenting hit me…none of us are truly normal, but her “normal” will be what she sees in these walls in these years, as she is forming her own opinions about how things are done. As I mentioned, this is rather daunting as a mom who will make mistakes no matter how hard I try. May I be worthy of imitation more often than not, may she always feel comfortable to ask for clarification rather than scrub mildew and plaque with the same toothbrush, and may she have other people in her life who model integrity, wisdom, and better cleaning skills than me.

I Already Knew I Loved You

Mother’s Day was a reminder of how very blessed I am, first to have a spectacularly loving mom myself, and now to have two amazing little girls to hold and help mold. It was a gift to have a special day set aside to reflect on being a mother, but it was also a day that brought back some more difficult memories for me. When I started this blog, I feared that there would be a time when I felt compelled to write a post about my other children, the ones that may not often appear in these pages of writing but are frequently on my mind. It is not an entry that is fun or lighthearted, but it is fundamental to my journey as a mother. I have two amazing, cuddleable, daily reminders of how good I have it as a mother, and my gratitude for them is even bigger when I realize that becoming a mother was not a guarantee, not something to be taken lightly or for granted. I have two children that I hold each day, but I have four children that I hold in my heart. Without going into too much detail, my hubby and I were thrilled to become parents and head-over-heels for our first baby. We lost that baby in a miscarriage that rocked both of us. The next year, we had the incredible experience of welcoming Emma Grace into our lives. When it came time to tell her and our family that a little brother or sister was on the way, we could hardly contain our excitement. Emma wore a “Big Sister” shirt that proclaimed the big news. Later, when we had to say “goodbye” to that baby, too, words can’t describe all that went through our heads and hearts. Thankfully, gratefully, after a high-risk pregnancy filled with unknowns, we welcomed Lily Rebecca into this world one year ago. Holding her for the first time was joy mixed with relief, sweetness seasoned with knowledge of what might not have been. Who I am as a mother is influenced daily by this knowledge. When we had Emma and people asked if she was our first baby, it was such a difficult question for me. I didn’t want to burden people with our history, but I didn’t want to discount the life of our first baby. On our first baby’s due date, we planted a Shasta daisy in memory, something that we could watch grow since we wouldn’t have that privilege with our child. This year, as it came up, my hubby said, “Look how big it is,” and I replied, “Of course, she is our eldest.” That baby remains a part of our family. Our third baby, the one we lost before Lily, also has a memorial plant in our backyard. They are the first plants I check for when warmer weather comes, the only ones that can bring tears to my eyes, and the small but tangible statements that our babies’ memories go on for our family. Each year at Mother’s Day, our church addresses the fact that Mother’s Day brings wonderful memories, but it can also bring painful ones, and I am so grateful for that recognition. Though our family has felt heartbreak, so many other families come to mind who have been through so much more. Pregnancy loss is much more common than we realize. In the medical community, it can even become so routine that there is a matter-of-factness about it, a lack of compassion. In circles of family and friends, it is an occurrence that doesn’t have a protocol to follow or a ready-made sympathy card to send. It is hard to know how the experience affects each family, so it is difficult to know what to do or say. I have had the privilege of having many friends and family ask me how to handle it when someone they know loses a baby. The truth is, I am far from an expert, but personally I suggest handling it like any other loss: with dignity, with compassion, with the realization that everyone handles loss differently, and with caring thoughts and prayers for the hurting family. I believe that the key is in not pretending that we know the answers (i.e. avoid saying that this is what God wanted, that the baby must not have been healthy, that it was for the best, that they will have another.) None of us are God, we most likely don’t know if the baby was healthy or not, we cannot assume that they would not have wanted a baby with health problems, we don’t know that they will have another, and quite probably they want the baby that they lost. Imagine attending a funeral and telling someone who has just lost a spouse that they will remarry soon. Somehow, we know that this is terribly inappropriate, but there is often a desire to tell people that their baby will quickly be replaced. If a family chooses to handle the loss with any of these answers themselves, then that is their right, but I believe it best that these pat answers not come from others. Typically, I tell someone, “I’m so sorry for your loss. You’re in my thoughts and prayers.” It’s simple and maybe not the most eloquent, but it’s the truth, and it avoids trying to fix something that I can’t fix for them. After our experiences, my hubby and I try to make it a practice to not ask anyone when they hope to have children, as we now know so many private stories of early and late pregnancy loss or challenges with fertility (not to mention that some people make a conscious decision to not have children, a choice we respect.) Though we are far from perfect, the last thing we want is to be salt in anyone’s wound. On the other hand, we are honored to listen if people want to talk about their personal loss. We do not claim to know how anyone else feels, as this is such an individual journey, but we truly hurt for those who hurt. This has been a difficult post for me to write, but one that has found its way onto the computer nonetheless. In part, I have written this for my children that I never got to hold. May they know that they are loved. In part, I have written it for others who have had an unexpected journey in motherhood that isn’t always acknowledged. May they know that they are cared about. In part, I have written it because I couldn’t not write it anymore. To all four of my children, from the time I knew that you were inside of me, I already knew I loved you. Whether that meant that I got to actively parent you or will simply always be your mother, you will forever be a part of our family, our story, our lives…and now you are forever recorded in my memories from motherhood.

A Gorgeous Day

Today was Lily Rebecca's first birthday party, and we had a fantastic time watching her eat and decorate herself with cake and frosting. There was definitely a need for a bath in the transition time between cake and presents. It was everything I hoped for in a first birthday party...she was surrounded by people who love her, she created memories for each of us which we photographed to share with her someday, and she seemed to thoroughly enjoy herself and her party. The day was definitely focused on Lily, but Emma was so incredibly excited for her sister's birthday party that she could barely contain herself, jumping up and down and telling everyone the order of events. As the party was winding down, I noticed that in her excitement Emma had been experimenting with calling her grandparents by their first names. I decided to talk with her about this: Emma to Grandma: Becky? Me to Emma: Emma, you call her Grandma. Who calls her Becky? Emma: Grandpa Me: Right, but you call her Grandma. What does Daddy call me? Emma: Gorgeous.  I think she might have a future in politics. :-) I couldn't even finish the lesson on how she calls me Mommy rather than my first name. I was too busy smiling. Little ears are always listening...it's especially wonderful when they catch us at our best.

Absolutely One-derful

On Monday, our precious Lily Rebecca is turning one. She has brought us so much joy in the past year. When she was six months old, I wrote her the following letter for her baby book: 

November 3, 2009 

Happy Half-Birthday, my sweet girl. Today you are six months old, and we celebrate you and love you so much. Someday I will tell you about just how much I wanted you and how fervently I wished for you to join our family. Now that you are here, our hearts overflow with love for you. You are such a sweet baby, full of lots of yummy cuddles for Daddy and me. You will almost always calm down when I hold you, and you give Daddy big smiles when he gets home from work. You are happiest when the two of us hold you, though you like Grandma and Aunt Amanda to play with you sometimes, too. You’re not as sure about guys right now, but that’s okay. I’m happy to have extra snuggles with you. You smile a lot, and your giggle is one of the most magical sounds on earth. When you smile, you have a dimple that is beyond adorable. People often say that you look like a doll because you’re so cute. In the bathtub, your favorite game is “Tug Tug.” I tug on the washcloth, and you tug back and give me such a big grin. Sometimes when you see the washcloth come out, you’re already reaching to play, and you think it’s a great time. I have been playing with you since you were four-and-a-half months old, and a couple of days ago, Emma started to do “Tug Tug” with you, too. She has fun playing with you, and you love to watch your big sister no matter what she is doing. Sometimes when you are crying, you will stop just to check out what she is up to. She is patient with you as you explore the world, at least the part of it you can reach so far. I am incredibly thrilled that you two have each other as sisters, and I hope you can be great friends as you grow up and especially when you are grown women. Music is one of your favorite things so far. You and Emma go to a Music Together class with me, and you especially like the song “You Get a Line, I’ll Get a Pole.” It gets a smile out of you nearly every time. Sometimes you “sing” along to music. When Daddy plays guitar and sings for you, you watch closely and look really content. We often have family dance parties, when Daddy plays music on his iPod, and you squeeze me so tight and squeal when you hear the music start. You watch us dance with your sweet gummy grin, and you like us to hold you and dance with you, too. You also like it when I read to you. I read you Baby Cakes every night before bed, and you know you get to eat after I read it, so sometimes you start crying before the end in anticipation of milk. Otherwise, you seem to enjoy stories and grab for the books to get a closer look. Today, in celebration of you turning six months old, we fed you rice cereal. You’ve been watching us eat very carefully lately and leaning toward the food like you want some. When the first bite of cereal came toward you, you opened your mouth as if you’d been waiting for us to feed you something—anything—with a spoon so you could eat just like the rest of the family. Though I look forward to parenting you in the years to come, I want you to know that I will make mistakes as you are growing up, and I’m sorry in advance for anything I do that hurts you. I’m guessing that there will be years where you think I know almost everything and other years when you’re sure I don’t know anything. I think the truth is probably somewhere in between. Though I’m human and so imperfect, I wish that I could love you and raise you perfectly. You and Emma and Daddy are the most important things in the world to me, and I will do my best to take care of you well. So far, your personality seems pretty happy and go with the flow, especially if I’m holding you and you’re fed and rested. Whoever you become, though, I just want you to be perfectly you. I wish for you to find happiness, to be healthy, to be thoughtful toward others and take care of yourself, to make good choices, and to love deeply. Life can be tricky sometimes, but I believe in you and your ability to live well. We may not always agree with each other, but my hope is that you will feel unconditionally loved by us throughout your life. I pray for you often and thank God for you every day. You are a gift in our lives, and I will always be grateful that I get the privilege of being your mother. So, my sweet L, please know that on your half-birthday and always, you are priceless to me. I love you, my beautiful daughter. 

It is already fun for me to look back at this letter and see what Lily was up to half a year ago, so I’ve decided to write to her about what she is like a few days before her first birthday: 

April 30, 2010 

In three days, you will turn one. You still come to me before anyone, and I don’t really mind at all because I love your snuggles. You get excited when Daddy comes home, and you are starting to go to more people, especially if I’m not in sight. You continue to have quite a few smiles for us, and you have a pleasant demeanor. Even if you get hurt, you only cry for a minute, and then you are back to exploring the world around you. You seem to have an adventuresome spirit, and you like to go so high when I push you in your swing. For the past week, you have been trying to learn to climb the stairs like big sister, and you are determined, as well. You get up one, fall back, and try again right away. You also like to taste test anything you find, and I dig things out of your mouth multiple times a day. You clench your mouth shut so hard, determined to keep your treasure. I try to sweep often, but you can find things anywhere…a bug, a bit of crayon wrapper, an errant wheat puff, etc. You keep me on my toes! You crawl quickly now and pull up on things to reach places your big sister sometimes wishes you wouldn’t, but she still likes you and wants to help feed you Cheerios or wheat puffs. You tend to want to feed yourself, though, especially if it is food you can pick up. You want to do bigger kid things, and you seem to be in a hurry to try any toy that seems like it is meant for an older kid or any skill that will make you more independent. It’s a challenge to change your diaper or get you dressed because you don’t like to sit still. Your favorite toys are the play kitchen and the art easel. You like to take things out. You take dishes out of the play kitchen and just take things off of the art easel again and again. We haven’t mastered putting things back yet, but that’s okay, all in good time. :-) You are a good eater, but you know your limits and sign “more” if you’re still hungry or push the food away to let us know if you’re full. You weren’t too sure about vegetables for the first month or two you had them, but now you’ve accepted them and especially like them if they’re what we’re eating, too. You say “mama”, and “dada,” and you point to things you want. When we ask how old you are, you hold up one finger. If you can get near the door handle, you try to open it, as you love to be outside, and you will point to your swing if you can see it. You are very good at letting us know what you want. You don’t really like to drink out of a cup yet, but you get to start drinking milk from a cup soon, so we’ll see how that goes. When I hold you to feed you, you have definite opinions about how it should be done. You used to let me stroke your hair, but now you shove my hand down and wrap your legs around my arm to keep it there. You still suck your thumb, and you hook your pointer finger on your nose, resting it there. It is pretty adorable! You like to be read to, but you don’t want to sit still to listen for too long. You also like to make us laugh, and you do the cutest smile where you almost close your eyes and make a cheesy grin. We love it, so you will do it multiple times to get our reaction. Every night before bed, I say, “Good night, Daddy” and “Good night, Emma,” when I’m going to take you to bed, and you suck your thumb and grin. Sometimes you wave to them. You smile every time, as you like this ritual of saying “good night.” You continue to enjoy your baths and take them with big sister now. You are a good sport about having your hair washed, and you love your tea set for the tub. You don’t complain when I put you down at night, but you almost always cry at naptime, as you don’t want to miss any action. You get up on your knees or stand up in your crib, crying for me. In the past week, you have started to shriek if you want something or are frustrated. You’ve learned it quickly gets our attention. You learn many things quickly, and as babies do, you seem to be constantly taking mental notes on the world. I love to watch your awareness grow and your personality develop. I continue to thank God for letting me be your mommy. You are sunshine in my life, and Daddy, Emma, and I all adore you. Happy Birthday, precious baby girl.

A "Sign" of Things To Come

This past week, I took the girls out to Grandpa and Grandma’s house for a visit. As I was holding eleven-month-old Lily, she reached up and grabbed a newspaper that I’d put on the top of the couch. Before I could stop her, she started to munch on a corner of that day’s news. Perhaps it was the crime section, and she was just following McGruff’s advice: “Take a bite out of…” Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Anyway, she happily chewed away while I tried to swipe the paper from her mouth. I said, “No, Lily, no eat paper.” She looked at me with a face full of purpose (and I think a little bit of glee), then gazed at the paper, and quite deliberately made the sign for “more” (as in “Yes, I will eat more paper, and thanks for teaching me this handy sign language so that I can clearly communicate where our viewpoints differ.”) And so it begins, a “sign” that she is becoming her own independent person, that I get to actively start teaching her boundaries, that she is metaphorically and literally crawling away from me on all fours, a little faster every day. I remember when this happened with Emma, when she still loved to cuddle but also yearned to explore and become her own tiny human being. At the beginning, our newborns start out as this little lump of love, and then they crawl and eventually run out to make their own choices, decisions, mistakes. I’ve heard it said that part of our job as parents is to raise little people who grow up to be as independent as possible. I think that there is an innate part of a child that already wants that for herself. The trick is to teach manners and kindness, decision making skills and self-discipline while letting them try some things out for themselves, especially when all that can happen is a gummy taste in their mouth and a paper cut on their tongue. Nevertheless, no means no, so this time Lily found that in lieu of seconds of newspaper, she would soon be dining on bananas and pears. They do all come from trees, and I think that’s a sign our goals really aren’t that far apart after all.