About The Boy

(Charlie with Matt's dad on a recent hike)

Charlie is growing up so fast.  I mean, look at this picture.  Does that look like a toddler?  No, that looks like a little boy, and I can hardly stand it.  He is learning and changing so much everyday that I thought I should take a minute to record some things about him right now before I forget.

Even though Charlie is in the throws of the terrible two's, he is also a super fun age right now.  He is at the stage where he is learning everything and soaking it all up like a little sponge.  His funny little personality has erupted, and he cracks me up all the time.  I can say with certainty that he has the spunk and fire to match his red hair.  Here are some notes for my own memory.

-Our Charlie boy is a talker.  He talks all the live long day.  He asks a lot of questions, and genuinely wants to know the answers to them.

-He is painfully shy in new places and around new people.  We have been to story time at the library SO many times, but he can still barely bring himself to get off my lap and sit on the story rug.

-This summer he transitioned out of his crib and into a big bed.  It was relatively painless.  He still even takes a nap most days! (hallelujah)

-Charlie loves music and dancing.  He knows a lot of words to The Avett Brothers, and loves to sing along while we are in the car.  He can also sing his ABC's, twinkle little star, you are my sunshine, the itsy bitsy spider, and many of the songs from Frozen and Tangled.

-He has a vibrant imagination!  He can turn anything into a toy.  He loves pretend play, and will frequently pretend to be a super hero, fireman, ballerina, mountain climber, and a daddy.

-He loves reading books with us.  Sometimes Matt will stay in his room for 30 minutes at bedtime, just reading book after book.

-We have tried one stint of potty training, but it was a no go.  It became a power struggle about getting treats.  So we backed off, and will try again when he seems more ready.  In case you were wondering...I am SO ready.

-Charlie is the pickiest of picky eaters.  It drives me crazy.  He could stand to gain a little weight.  But on top of being super picky....he is SUPER stubborn.  It's a bad combination.

-Charlie has a very compassionate soul.  He looks out for his sister.  He sticks up for her when we get frustrated or lose patience.  He tells me what she needs, and misses her when she is away.  It brings me so much joy to watch him learn about his sister, and understand her in ways that I don't.  He has a special heart, and I know it will serve him well all his life.

-Charlie can identify all of his letters, and numbers up to ten.  He can count to twenty, and knows most shapes and colors.  In terms of learning, I think he will be more than ready for preschool.  In terms of separation...not so much.:-)

-He is a snuggle bug.  He wants to hug and kiss and snuggle all the time.  During the day he will frequently come to me, squeeze my leg or my head and say "I just yuv you, Mommy."  Its the best thing ever.

He is my little buddy, and a bright light in our lives.

Plan of Action

Once upon a time, Summer used to be my all time favorite season.  I love the fourth of July, I have a summer birthday, and a summer anniversary.  Swimming, hiking, campfires in the mountains...so many of my favorite activities are summer activities.

But the thing is, that summers started to get really hard.  Once Aubrey started preschool and Kindergarten, having her at school became a much needed respite time for me.  She thrives so well in the structured setting of school.  And once she started school all day....well,  I started to feel like a person again.  And over the last couple of years summer has become a bit of a nightmare.

Because.  Because of so many things.  Because it is incredibly hard to take Aubs anywhere.  It literally takes a team just to go out and about with her.  Because she doesn't have friends to play with.  Because she doesn't know how to play with Charlie, or even entertain herself.  Because her short attention span means that she ends up following me around all day crying and being naughty.  Because she can be a destructive little (big) girl.  Because sometimes I feel like I literally might die if I have to change another diaper.  Because, because, because.  Because of too many things that no one could ever really understand unless they had their own Aubrey.

And here is the truth.  It's so very hard.

 I love Aubrey.  I love her with all of my heart.  I am, because she is.  You know?  But it takes a village to raise Aubs.  And during the summer, that village shrinks by a whole lot.

So this year when the snow melted, and the days started getting longer and warmer...panic started to set in.  This quiet dread began to bubble in my belly.  I tried to push away the thoughts, the memories of isolation and exhaustion.  But it's always in the back of my mind like a bad word that really wants to be said.  Summer.

Yesterday as I was driving home from my mom's house, with sleeping kids in the back seat, I had an hour of quiet to really think about all of this.  I decided that I am not powerless.  I am capable of making it better than it has been before.  So as I drove, I made a mental plan.  A list of goals that I hope will make the summer months better.

- I need to make sure I am taking care of myself.  Sometimes I feel like a shell of the person I once was.  Like I don't exist.  But I need to be at my best, so I can give the very best parts of myself to my children and my husband.  So I am going to start seeing a therapist.  I've been thinking that it would help for a long time now...but I think I'm finally ready.

-I am going to start going to bed early.  Because even though my kids have started waking up at 6:30 in the morning...I still have a nasty habit of crawling into bed at midnight.  Makes for a rough day...

-I'm going to ask for help.  It's a hard thing for me to do.  But I really need to get over that.  Maybe it means we'll drive to my moms house once a week.  Maybe I'll hire one of my teenage nieces to spend a couple hours a week with Aubrey.  We don't have to do this alone.

-I am going to increase my exercise from 3 times a week to daily.  It's vital for my metal and physical health.

-I refuse to be isolated.  That's all there is to it.  We are going to go out.  Even if Aubrey is going to cause a scene.  Even if I have to change her diapers in the back of my car because there is no where else to do it.  Even if it's hard.  Sometimes hard out of the house is better than hard in the house.  Sometimes :-)

Hopefully doing these things will help me to still feel human, and help us all have a better summer.  I'll be sure to let you all (all three of you?) know how it goes.  For now, spring break hasn't been so bad...and in a few days Matt and I are off to Mexico!

Adios

In which I talk about potty training and ask for a pep talk...

About an hour ago, while I was eating my breakfast, Charlie came to me and said "Sit on potty!"  He asks to sit on the potty from time to time, but has never been...productive.  If you know what I mean.  So I said, "Ok, you can sit on the potty as soon as Mommy finishes her breakfast."  About 3 minutes later he came to be again and said "Uh-oh!  Poopy!  Change bummy!"  Sure enough...he needed to be changed.

I found this whole exchange simultaneously thrilling and terrifying.  On one hand, to have a child who is not only interested in, but showing initiative to use the potty...this is life changing for me!  On the other hand, the prospect of potty training fills me with dread and anxiety.  Most likely a result of trying (unsuccessfully) to potty train Aubrey for the last 3 years.  I can't even begin to express how emotionally taxing it has been for us.

Also, I wonder...is Charlie too young for this?  He just barely turned two about a month ago.  Is that young?  It just seems really young.  Is it just me?

But, he has been telling me when he has a dirty diaper for months now.  I mean these are signs of readiness, right?

So this is where I ask for help.  What can I do to reduce my anxiety about it?  How seriously should I take his signs of readiness?  Should I go for it, or wait?  If I decide to go for it, what method has worked best for you?  Going all in, or taking a gradual child-led approach? 

I'm just scared of messing things up.

So, if you decided to give me a little pep talk...that would be great.  Thanks in advance!

Because I haven't written in forever...

I keep wanting to sit down and write, but then I feel this irrational need to catch up completely on all the things I didn't blog about, but should have.  Which is a really daunting task.  So I'm just saying forget it.  If I try to catch up I'll never blog again.

 So.

We recently took up the challenge of trying to find a diagnosis for Aubrey.  Again.  Which was a mistake.  We keep saying we're going to let it go.  And we do for a while.  Then something new starts, like new behaviors or new compulsions, and we think...hey!  This could be something!  And we ring up her doctor and her doctor refers us to a specialist that we haven't seen yet.  This time it was a Neuro-Psychologist.

Then we get all excited at the prospect of learning something new.  Something that can enlighten us a little more about our mysterious girl, or shed some light on what to expect for her future.

And inevitably, the specialist is unable to tell us anything we didn't already know...which is to say, not a whole lot.

The neuro-psychologist did tell us a few things.  1) Aubrey will never talk (which we already pretty much knew...but ouch!).  2) 90% of children who have severe developmental issues will never know the reason why.  And Aubrey is one of the 90%.

I sat on the couch this evening after the kids went to bed, and thought about it all for a while.  And I don't really know why it matters so much to me.  But it does.  I want to know why!  Even though it's not going to change her life or course of treatment, and it probably won't change ours that much either...I still just want to know.

Even after almost 7 years, it's inconceivable to me that Aubrey can't speak.  That she will go her whole life having never uttered the word Mommy.  That she isn't potty trained, still struggles to feed herself, can't dress herself, that her 2 year old brother is light years ahead of her developmentally.  And we don't know WHY.

And I know.  You don't have to tell me.  There is all kinds of unexplained suffering in this world.  So many terrible things happen to people, and there is never a reason why.  But that doesn't make me feel better.  And it doesn't make me feel better to say the reason for her challenges is so she can teach us.  So we can learn from her.  blah blah blah.  It's not cutting it anymore.

What it really boils down to, is that Aubrey and Charlie are my whole world.  It's my job.  And the job of being Aubrey's caretaker isn't ever going to end.  Its always going to be me and Matt, but mostly me.  And I just want to be able to make some sense of it all.  I don't think I'll ever stop wanting to know why.

But, here we go again.  On another nice long break from searching.

Magic in the Ordinary

Today, I felt so happy I could burst.  I think it was a combination of things that led to my bliss.  The PERFECT weather, a nap, and Charlie...to name a few. 

Oh, that Charlie boy.

This morning we went to Harmons, and as we were walking from the parking lot to the store, he pointed his finger at the building and said "Castle!"

In the car on the way home, he said the name of every sesame street character in his book.  "Cookie!  Ernie!  Emmo! Zooey!  Bird!"

When I was cleaning him up after lunch, I said "Well, what should we do now?"  And he said "Dance!"  So, obviously we did.

I don't know if I can adequately express the joy I feel in my heart every time he speaks.  When he calls me Momma, or calls blue crayons "boo-berry", or asks for his blankie, or brings me his ball and says "catch!"  It still feels like magic, every time.

Obviously it is all made so much sweeter because After 6 years, I have still never heard those words from Aubrey.  Aubrey and I communicate in our own way.  And over the years she has learned to say so much without verbalizing.  But it is still fraught with so much frustration and work.

But today, as we went about our day, doing nothing special...it all just felt SO special.  It is such a gift to have these simple moments of motherhood that don't feel like work.  It fills me up.  These small magical moments fill me up, and prepare me for the times when being a mother also means being a speech therapist, an occupational therapist, and a physical therapist.

I am so thankful that I get to experience both.  My children are incredible, and they make me better everyday.

I Should Be In Bed

What is it about being up late at night, all alone in the quiet house?  I just love it.  I swear I can never get to bed at a decent hour.  And every morning as I'm dragging myself out of bed, I kick myself for staying up late, and swear that tonight I'll go to bed nice and early.

I have too much on my mind tonight.  I load the dishwasher, wipe the counters, and pause for long periods of time...staring at a wall.  Thinking, thinking, thinking.

Thinking about when we'll be able to afford to redo the kitchen.  Thinking about all the anxiety and anger I've been feeling.  Thinking about possibly seeing a therapist.  Thinking about Stella, and whether we should get a new dog, and when.

The lights are low, the dishwasher hums, and I get out the broom to sweep.

And I think about my upcoming trip, and how excited I am, and everything I need to do in preparation.  I think about the friends I don't see or talk to anymore, but miss terribly.  I think about how I would like more friends in my life.

Then I pause from sweeping because Aubrey wakes up and wants a drink.  Then I put her back in bed, and come downstairs to finish.

I sweep and I think about Aubrey.  And I cry.  And I think and I feel so much about that little girl.

I wipe down the stove, I throw away some old things in the refrigerator, and take out the trash.

I come inside, lean up against a counter, and stare.  I think about God.  I think about all the questions and doubts that plague me.  I think about my mom.  I think about my 30th birthday that is coming up.  I think I will pull out the mop, but decide to wait until after the kids have had breakfast in the morning.

I write a love note for Matt to see when he eats breakfast in the morning.

I look around the kitchen and think about how much a person can get done when they have too much on their mind.

I Hope

Have you ever stopped to consider what a gift it is to be able to speak?  To communicate your thoughts, feelings, frustrations, joy, or pain?  Stop and think about the things your kids say.  What they want to eat, wear, do.  What they dreamed about at night.  Questions, questions, questions.  What they did at school, who their friends are, who hurt their feelings, what things they love or hate.  How they feel, physically.

Sometimes I forget.  I forget how much Aubrey sacrifices in her inability to speak.  Usually it takes something like her being sick to remind me.  Those are the times I wish the most that she could tell me how she feels, what helps and doesn't help.  What I can do to help her feel better.  We do a lot of non-verbal communication, but it only goes so far.

This usually results with me giving her a dose of Tylenol just in case she hurts.  Letting her take an extra long bubble bath at bedtime, because there is nothing a bubble bath can't cure.  Sitting outside her bedroom and listening to her cough, wondering if I should go in and give her a drink of water or just let her sleep.  I check her teeth everyday to see if any of them are loose.  I have her wear slippers in case her feet are cold.  I slather her with lotion in case her skin feels dry and itchy.  I try to cover my bases, I try to think of everything, I guess a lot and hope that I'm not missing something.

Sometimes I think about how challenging life is for Aubrey, how much she misses out on, and I wonder how she ever smiles or laughs.  But she does.  A lot!  She is teaching me an awful lot.

I struggle with faith.  After almost 6 years of life with a special needs child, it's hard not to.  But I hope.  I hope that someday when this life is over she will sit down and tell me everything.  I hope she will tell me every time that she was happy, or sad.  Her favorite memories.  I hope she will tell me about the times when I messed up, when she was mad at me, or when we got things right. 

And most of all...I hope she will tell me that we did enough.

Choices

One of biggest challenges that Aubrey deals with is an incredibly short attention span.  It makes everything difficult for her, for us, and for her teachers.  At every IEP (individul education plan meeting with teachers and therapists) it is the topic most discussed.  Her inability to atttend to anything for any length of time effects every aspect of her life...from meal time, to potty training, to class time, and church.  She cannot sit still.  She cannot focus.  She cannot follow directions.  And it seems to be getting worse.

I can't even really begin to describe how hard this is for us as her parents.  It has gotten to the point where we pretty much don't even take her to sacrament meeting anymore, because she cannot sit down, stop whining, and trying to escape.  So we don't go as a family most of the time.  Matt and I take turns going with Charlie while the other stays at home with Aubs until it is time for her to come Primary.

We have always been reluctant about trying medication.  Always.  We always thought (hoped, prayed) that there would be a better way.  But sometimes...you reach the end of your rope, and desperation sets in.  And unfortunately, that is where we are. 

So, for the past few months we have been talking with Aubrey's pediatrician, and researching options for ADD medication in hopes that we could find something that would help...even just a little.

A few weeks ago, we started her on a medication.  We were nervous.  Scared of side effects.  Worried that it wouldn't help.  Afraid of losing any part of Aubrey's sparkle.

On the first day we watched her like a hawk.  And it helped.  I noticed small differences throughout the day.  She sat easier for her meals.  I wasn't repeating myself over and over and over again when I gave her directions.  The differences were subtle...but they were there.

And then?  Then she didn't sleep at all for 28 hours.  We put her to bed that night...and she never went to sleep.  Finally, the next day the medicine left her system entirely and she just crashed.  It was horrible.  So we called the doctor and she suggested we try cutting the dose in half so see if we could still get the bennefits of the medication, but still allowing her to sleep.  Well, it didn't work.  She was able to sleep, but there were no improvements in her attention.

And so, these are the choices we make.  Medicate to help her focus at home and school?  Or don't medicate, but allow her to have an appetite and sleep at night?  For us, we choose quality of life.  Aubrey already has so many battles to fight.  So much is asked of her already.  She lives a life of constant frustration.  There are so many things she cannot enjoy, and experiences she will never have.  The least we can do is let her eat and sleep.  Right?

Experiences like this can be so discouraging.  It is almost as though every time we try something new, we hold out hope that this could be the miracle that we've been waiting for.  The pill that will improve her attention span.  The therapy that will help her start talking, the specialist that will help her potty train.  Sometimes I wonder, at what point do we stop being hopeful?

I am so weary.  I feel old and tired.  Every morning when I wake up, I feel like I am preparing for a battle that will never end.  And sometimes the only thing that gets me out of bed, and keeps me going, and keeps me hoping, is the desperate love I have for my daughter.  It is what I wake with, it is what I sleep with, it is what holds me together on days when I think I might break into a million little pieces.  And it is behind every choice I make.

In The Book

 One day, I'm going to write a book.  Sometimes when I can't sleep at night, I lay in bed and outline chapters in my head.  It will be a book about raising a child with special needs.  A memoir/educational tool for other parents.  Or maybe I won't write it for anyone else but me.  But I will write it, because important lessons are being learned, and I have stories to tell, and someday I want to look back at this adventure and see how it has forced my growth.

Someday, when I write that book, there will be a whole chapter about resentment.  Especially for people like us who have no diagnosis to work with.  How we struggle to fight against it day after day, but it slowly comes creeping in.  Like while trying to find somewhere private to change a five year old's poopy diaper at some place like the beach.  Or when attempting to feed yourself lunch, at the same time as feeding your baby...and your five year old, who still hasn't quite mastered the skill of using a fork.  I will write about how battling those seeds of resentment is a constant exercise in mind control.  And about begging doctors for a diagnosis, just so you can have somewhere to place the blame.  Just to be able to say, "This is happening because of x,y,z."

And in this book, there will be a chapter about coming to terms with the fact that sometimes just getting through something makes it a victory.  About how I feel like a super hero after every outing, every IEP, every Sacrament meeting.  About high fiving Matt after we left the zoo, because damn that was hard, and I don't ever want to do that again, but we did it.

There will be a chapter about the people around us who make it so much easier.  The grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles, and friends who save the day from time to time.  I will write about them all.  And how we have wild dreams of moving to far off places, but we know we will never go...because we could never do without them, and neither could Aubrey.

Someday, when I am brave, I will write about what having a child with special needs does to a marriage.  And what it does for a marriage.  How it can easily be the undoing of a couple who aren't taking care of their relationship, and treating it with tenderness.  How we are the lucky ones who have grown closer as a result of it, and have learned how to take care of each other when it all feels like too much.

In the years to come there will be more lessons learned, more stories to tell, more victories to claim.  I'll store them up and keep them safe, and one day I will have the satisfaction of putting it all together.

What Works For Me

Lately I've been thinking a lot about motherhood.  Parenthood, really.  I think it's because I recently made a super brilliant, life altering, mind blowing (read the sarcasm, people) discovery.  And it is this.

I can do my own brand of mothering.  All I have to do...is what works for me, and my kids.  That's all.

I can't believe it took me 5 and a half years to come up with this bit of wisdom.

It seems like there are all different styles of parenting...and everyone has an opinion about which is the best.  Some believe attachment parenting is the only way.  Sleep with your child, nurse them until they go to kindergaten, wear them everywhere you go!  Others tout a more "Baby-Wise" approach.  Set a schedule, let them cry, only feed every 3 hours...and no more!  I find that I fall somewhere in the middle.  I want the best of both worlds.  And that's ok.

I came to this conclusion a couple of weeks ago.  Charlie, who had started making real progress with his night time sleep, had a few really bad nights in a row.  One night he woke up just as Matt and I were going to bed.  In frustration Matt said "just let him cry".  To which I replied, "That just doesn't work for me."  When he asked me why, I said "Well, I think he could be getting a new tooth.  And he hasn't pooped yet today, so I should check his diaper.  And the last time I let him cry for a while, when I finally went in his room he had soaked through his diaper and was totally wet and cold."

I went into his room, picked him up with his blankie and binkie and rocked him back to sleep.  As I sat with him in the rocking chair, and listened to his sweet little breathing, I realized how good it felt to say "That just doesn't work for me."  It was like a weight had been lifted off my parental shoulders.  I felt free.  Free from the concern about what others say.  Free from the opinions that everyone shares about the "right" way to do things.  Free from my own fear that I might not be doing things the way I "should".  And I received a confirmation that the things I was feeling were right.

Here is the thing.  We don't have a cookie cutter family...and we never will.  Our oldest child has special needs.  There is a five year gap between our children.  And if things keep progressing the way they are, Charlie will quickly surpass his older sister developmentally.  No child is the same.  No mother is the same.  No family is the same.  So how can we expect other people to parent the same way?

So this week, those words have been rolling around in my head.  And every time there was a moment where I had to make a parental decision, I asked myself "What works for me?  What feels right?  What will bless our family the most, in this moment?"  If I'm telling the truth, I can say that this has been one of the most enjoyable weeks of my life as a mother.  And I think that was reflected in the overall mood/tone in our home this week.

It turns out that when I parent in a way that "works for me", instead of worrying about what a book/ friend/ television personality says I should do...It's easier to discover what works for all of us.  That's what I call parental success.

Now, where's my raise?!

Labels

We were working over at the new house this afternoon, when one of our new neighbors came by with her daughter to introduce themselves.  We stood on the porch and visited for a while, and before we knew it there were about 8 or 9 kids in our front yard to meet us.  It was great fun, and Aubrey was in heaven.  It made us even more excited to move!  Our new neighbor let us know about a neighborhood party that was happening the next street over later that evening, and invited us to come.  We were really looking forward to getting to know the people in our ward/neighborhood so we decided to go.

One of the only things that has made me nervous about this move was starting over in a new place with Aubrey.  We have lived in this ward for almost Aubrey's whole life.  She was not even crawling when we moved here.  And for all intents and purposes, the people in our ward have taken the journey of understanding and raising Aubs right along with us.  They know her, and understand her, and love her.

But how to start new?  How do you help people understand your special child, especially with no diagnosis to help explain?  How to help people understand that she is different, special, and unique?  She is just Aubrey.

So, off to the party we went.  We met lovely, kind, warm people...and they welcomed us with open arms.  After mingling for a while, our neighbor's daughter took Aubrey over to a swing set to play.  It was crowded, and crawling with wild, rambunctious little boys.  Sure enough, after only a minute Aubrey was hurt and crying.  After making sure that everything was alright, we stayed close to make sure she didn't fall again.

As I stood by, I overheard some little boys having a conversation about Aubrey.  "Did you know that she can't talk?"  "Yeah, I know that.  She's my new neighbor."  "Yeah.  She's handicapped."  "I know.  Handicapped means that you can't talk."  "But I wonder what makes her like that?"

"Me too" I thought, to myself.  At that point I decided to walk away and let Matt stay with Aubrey at the swing set.

It took all of ten minutes before Aubrey was labeled.  Handicapped.  I know that these boys did not speak these words to be hurtful.  They were not trying to be unkind.  They just don't know the right words to say.  And that's ok.  Sometimes I don't know the right words to say either, and I'm a grown-up.  And besides, handicapped is not a bad word.  It's just a label.  And yet...sometimes labels can hurt.  Not necessarily the word itself, but the act of being labeled.

I sat down with Charlie, and I looked around, and I wondered why I felt so sad.  And I think it's because I know that I carry the label too.  Because when we meet new people or go somewhere new I want for people to know that I am Megan, and my husband is Matt.  My daughter is Aubrey, and my son is Charlie.  And I want them to get to know us.  I want them to know me.  And instead, the first thing anyone ever knows about us is...that is Aubrey, and she is disabled/handicapped/challenged/different.  And that is Megan...she is the one with the disabled/handicapped/challenged/different daughter.

I wear that label proudly.  Because Aubrey is the most amazing human being I have ever known.  And I believe that being Aubrey's mother is the greatest calling I have been given.  But it is still a label that I am getting used to carrying.  And to tell the truth, being Aubrey's mom has affected friendships in my life.  Some have stuck close, and embraced the challenge.  Others drift away when our circumstances don't make things easy or convenient.  But that is neither here nor there, I suppose.  It just stays in the back of my mind whenever we meet new people.

I guess I just have to believe that in time, the people in our new ward/neighborhood will get to know Aubrey for who she is.  The girl with the big smile, and big laugh, and big heart.  The girl with bouncy curls, tight hugs, and a strong testimony.  And the girl with the awesome mom!:)  And then, the labels will melt away...because there will be no need.  They will know that she is just Aubrey.  And they will love her.  Because, how can you not?

Dear Aubrey

Dear Aubrey,

I was looking through some of your old baby pictures tonight, and when I came across this one, my eyes welled up with tears.  I don't really know why.  But the emotions I felt came like a wave, washing over my heart.  You were just a baby when this picture was taken.  But your face is still just as full of light and love.

Oh my Aubrey.  We have been having a rough go of things lately.  Our world (yours especially) has been turned upside down with the arrival of your sweet brother.  Attention is divided, nights are long, tempers are short, and patience is running thin.  Mom and Dad are tired.  So tired.  And so are you.

The truth is, my dear, that I am still learning how to be your mother.  Some things come to me naturally.  I know how to care for your body, feed you, and tend to your hurts.  I know how to play ring around the rosie, london bridges, and tickle tag.  I know how to give you loves.  But I don't know how to help you learn.  I don't know how to reason with you or discipline you.  I don't know what to expect.  I am learning to be a mother, because you are my first child.  But I am also learning how to be the mother of an Aubrey.  You are one of a kind, my sweet.

I put you to bed tonight while Daddy was downstairs with Charlie.  I laid with you in your bed.  We prayed, and then we sang songs.  When I was in the middle of the second verse of Silent Night (and year round favorite of yours), you reached around and grabbed my nose.  And you held on to my nose as I kept singing.  It made me laugh, which made you giggle, and your giggle made me laugh even harder, and before you know it we were in the midst of a full blown giggle fit.  It was silly, and fun, and it made me realize that we need to laugh together more often.

You reminded me that sometimes, even in the middle of all the hard stuff, we still need to make room for joy.  Because there is always joy to be found.  Even if it is only in small things like bedtime giggles.

And so.  I have decided, Aubs, that I am going to start listening more closely.  I have been so busy trying to teach you the way, that I haven't been learning all the things that you were sent here to teach me.  But I am going to open my ears, and my heart, and make myself ready to learn.  Because I know that in the learning, there is even more joy to be found.

I love you,

Momma

Just Pictures Because I Barely Have Time To Brush My Teeth

Aubrey turned 5.  Charlie seems to have turned a corner on the fussiness, but continues to be a horrible sleeper.  We are currently in the process of trying to rent out our home and buy a new one.  Consider yourselves updated.

"An island of reality in an ocean of diarrhea"

I have always been really proud of the fact that I am honest in what I write on this blog.  I've said from the beginning that this blog is a form of therapy for me, and that when I wrote I would never sugar coat things.  Not that there is anything wrong with blogs that are full of happiness and good times.  I think people have every right to record whatever they want to record.  But for me, being able to write about the good and the bad has really been a blessing.  I've written about our difficulties with raising a child with special needs, and I've written about the challenges of secondary fertility...as honestly as I could.

And this is another one of those times where I just need a few minutes to share some honest truths.  So here it is.

I am barely getting by.  I feel like I am just trying to keep my head above water most days.  Like I am constantly trying not to drown.  I've dealt with some hard times in my life before...but I can't recall a time that felt so difficult.

For a while I blamed it on hormones.  A case of the "baby blues" that would eventually fade, and leave me feeling content and in control.  Then after a while I thought, maybe this is something more.  Maybe I have post-partum depression.  Maybe I need medication?  But then after thinking about it for a while, that didn't feel right either.

Because the truth is, that medication can't change the fact the my baby is colicky.  That he screams all the time and seems to hate me.  That he hates nursing, never naps, and is still waking up every 2 hours at night.  And medication can't change the fact that I am raising a child with severe intellectual disabilities.  That my five year old cannot speak to me, use the potty, or feed herself a bowl of cereal.  That she has never called me "Mommy".  Medication cannot help the crippling fear I feel when I think about her future.  And how hard that all is.  It is SO HARD.

And medication can't help that we are stuck in this tiny house with no yard, because we can't sell it without taking a HUGE loss.  Or that Aubrey was sick, and then Charlie was super sick, and now I am sick.

And can medication help the fact that at the end of every day I feel like a complete failure?  Because Aubrey watched too much t.v., and Charlie never slept for longer than 20 minutes, and I didn't have dinner on the table or take a shower, or even eat lunch.

I have never heard of a pill that can help with all of that.

And I know that comparrison is a dangerous and toxic road to go down.  But it is so hard to see all these beautiful women all around me who seem to have it all together and then some.  For instance...Matt's sisters.  Joy, especially.  (Joy if you are reading this...I have a mom crush on you!)  Even with her 7 children, she still manages to teach zumba, keep a gorgeous house, get her children to wherever they need to be...and look gorgeous in the process.  And yet, with just my two I am barely hanging on for dear life.

Tonight, I passed off a screaming Charlie to Matt so I could go upstairs and take a bath.  As I was walking up the stairs I tearfully apologized for all my failings.  I felt like such a disappointment.  He said "Megan, it's ok!  I love you!  You are just having a hard time right now."  Then I spent the next 30 minutes wondering if it is just "a hard time right now", or if it would always be so hard.  Will I always be this big of a mess?  And why aren't I turning into the kind of mother that I always envisioned myself being?

I guess what it all boils down to, is that I never thought motherhood would be so hard.  I thought that I was made of stronger stuff.  The kind of stuff that helps you get through things with grace, and dignity, and a little lipstick to boot.  But I guess I just have to hope that wading through all of this muck will eventually turn me into that woman.

But until then, I will get through my days one hour at a time.  And this song will be on repeat.**Skip to the 0:33 mark to avoid the expletive in the voicemail recording.

Yesterday

(Photo taken shortly after we brought Charlie home from the hospital.  Also, I don't know why Charlie was wearing grandpa pants pulled up to his armpits.)

Charlie had just woken up from a nap, so I went upstairs to get him.  Aubrey was downstairs.  I changed Charlie's diaper, and was talking to him and trying to coax some smiles out of him.  He was starting to get fussy...letting me know he was ready to eat.

All of a sudden, Aubrey walks into the room...naked.  I mean, naked as the day she was born.  She wasn't even wearing her socks!  Oh, and no diaper**.  I just started laughing, and thought to myself "someone needs some attention!"  So I was laughing and laughing, and she was laughing, and it was all just so funny until (I know you know whats coming) I smelled poop.  Then I stopped laughing.

Upon further investigation, I saw that Aubrey had poop on her hands.  So I ran downstairs real quick to see what she had done.  Now, at this point Charlie isn't just fussing anymore....he's crying.  Hard.  He had gone from "Hmm, I think I could use a snack" to "MOM!  FEED ME!  NOW!" real quick.  So I put him in his swing to try and keep him happy while I deal with the poop situation.

So, Aubrey had pooped in her diaper...decided she didn't like it, took off all her clothes, took off her diaper, and then spent some time (cringe!) investigating the contents of her diaper and spreading it around on the carpet!  I can't even begin...I just can't even...I just...EW!  So I look at Aubs and determine that she needs to be cleaned up (and punished!) immediately.  Meanwhile...King Charles is screaming so hard that he's stopped breathing and his face has gone from bright red to a purple-ish color, and he's like "WOMAN IF YOU DON"T FEED ME RIGHT NOW I AM GOING TO DIE!"

So I hurry and wash Aubrey in the bathroom the best that I can, put a pull-up on her, and put her in her room.  I go downstairs and grab Charlie, who is in hysterics.  As I walk to the couch to nurse him, I realize there is still poop all over the carpet.  I look at Charlie, I look at the floor, I look back at Charlie...and I say words that I never imagined would come out of my mouth.

"The poop on the floor is just going to have to wait for a minute."

So I fed Charlie.  When he was through I cleaned up the mess, and went to check on Aubrey.  She was naked again.

Today we bought a carpet cleaner.

**Yes, Aubrey is still wearing diapers.  We have tried and tried and tried to get this girl toilet trained for more than a year....but she has been fighting us on it.  It's like one step forward, two steps back.  If anyone has any advice on how to potty train a very stubborn, non-verbal, developmentally delayed almost 5 year old...let me know.

In The Wee Small Hours

Hello blogging world!  I'm alive!

There have been so many times over the past week where I have really wanted to sit down and write.  Write, and write, and write.  But what I want to know is...when?  Back in the day, my favorite time to write was late at night after everyone had gone to bed.  My creative juices would flow, I could think really well, and no one would disturb me.

These days I am doing REALLY good just to get a shower.  Staying up late to write?  Sacrificing precious sleep?  Yeah right!

The huge gap between Aubrey and Charlie made me forget how different life is with a newborn.  Man is it different!  The no sleeping, constant nursing, soothing, changing of diapers, crying.  Logically I knew all of these things were coming, and I was looking forward to it.  But it is a big adjustment!  And not only is life with a newborn different...but oh my, Charlie is a much different baby than Aubrey was.  Aubrey was a very calm, docile baby.  Charlie is a little firecracker.  And by that I mean, he cries.  A lot.  He is also kind of an unpredictable baby (but really, all babies are when they are this young...right?).  Some days he will nap well, and be generally happy during the day...and then become a monster at night time.  Other days he will scream like a banshee all day, and then sleep like an angel at night.  Sometimes he only wants to be held.  Other times he is only happy in his bouncy chair.  I never know what to expect.  He's already keeping me on my toes!

My favorite moments are when he is calm and bright eyed.  I love to sit with him in the rocking chair, and get tiny little smiles out of him.  He seems to save up his smiles for mornings after we've had a rough night.  Kind of like an "I'm sorry mom!  But it's gonna be ok!"  It has been challenging.  But regardless, I fall in love with him more and more everyday.  And I am amazed at how much love my heart can contain.  And even though he has only been with us for a month...it seems like he has always been a part of our family.

And so, I am slowly regaining my confidence in myself as a mother.  There have been so many times during the last month where I have uttered the words "I don't know what to do."  But this sudden lack of confidence has forced me to seek out guidance from Heavenly Father at every turn, and rely on his tender mercies and promptings from the spirit.  In the small hours of the morning when I am alone with Charlie, or during a particularly difficult day, I often find myself uttering a small prayer.  "Father, please bless that Charlie will be able to nurse well right now" or "Father, please show me how to get my baby to sleep" or "Father, if Charlie is in pain, please help me know how to fix it."  I don't always get a clear answer, but I almost always get a feeling that says "You can do this.  Everything will be alright." 

And if that isn't a tender mercy, I don't know what is.

Proof That I am More Than a Milk Machine

Today I...

Got Aubrey dressed, and did her hair.

Fed Aubrey breakfast.

Read scriptures with Aubrey, and on my own.

Collected dirty diapers that had accumulated in random places around the house.

Took out the garbage

Gave Aubrey a snack

Helped Aubrey make a birthday card for Matt

Put on make-up and brushed my teeth.  (Don't ask about my hair)

Put Aubs down for a nap

Had bonding time with King Charles (as he is called by his Momma)

Loaded the dishawasher

Ate lunch (and savored every last drop of that diet coke!)

Soothed Charlie to sleep 4 times (it turns out that he likes to be held/rocked...and nothing else with do the trick.  Not the swing, the bouncy chair. etc.)

Worked with Aubrey on her iPad games

Changed 9 diapers (so far)

Contemplated dinner...

....And I was a milk machine :-)

Words of Wisdom

First, I want to thank all of you kind women who took some time to answer the questions from my last post.  This internet thing really is a fantastic tool sometimes, isn't it?  And it's days like this where I am SO thankful to have my blog as an outlet to express the craziness of life, and receive feedback from such kind women!

Yesterday I received an amazing email from my dear cousin Sally, in response to my last blog post.  Sally and I have such a sweet relationship that I have treasured all my life.  We don't live near each other anymore, but she continues to be a woman that I look to as an example.  Sally is a young mother of 4 beautiful children, so she has plenty of experience with the post-partum world.  In her email she shared some real bits of treasured knowledge/advice that she has learned over the years.  It meant so much to me, that I asked her for permission to share what she wrote on my blog (because I can't be the ONLY woman who could benefit from such lovely thoughts) and she said yes.  She also gave me permission to correct her typos, because she herself was nursing HER baby as she typed.  But I decided to leave the email as it is, because doesn't that seem more poetic?  And also, I was too lazy :) 

Thank you again, Sally.  I know I will come back to these words over and over again over the coming weeks/months.  Love you forever!

HI Megan.  I just read your blog post.  I was going to comment but realized what I have to say is much too long for a comment :).  This is something I've thought a lot about (with each kid and every time one of my friends has a kid).  There are some things I've learned through experience and through the experience of others.  I've also listened to a lot of other people give some great advice.  Here's my best attempt to share some of my thoughts with you.  I don't know if it'll help, but it's worth a shot, right?  You are such a beautiful mother (inside and out) and I am grateful to have you in my life even if we're far apart.  You're a powerful example to me.  Your sweet children are blessed to have you!

Ok, here goes:

1. You will survive.  
Your body will heal and return to normal (if there is such a thing), you will quit hurting, your parts will eventually return to normal size, you will feel better.   Right now you are TOTALLY and completely whacked out by chemicals, and you can feel free to blame ANYTHING on that fact.  There might be times when you look around your neighborhood and think, "wow, look at Betty.  She has THREE kids and she's still alive, walking around, breathing in and out all day long!"  You'll get there.  Our bodies were made to do this and it's miraculous! 

2.   The baby will survive.
He will have to wait a little more than Aubrey had to, have to cry a little more (and he won't die from crying......even though he WILL sound like it...) and as long as you don't leave him alone for too long, he will survive and grow up to be big enough to rip the head off Aubrey's doll and throw it down the stairs.   You just keep him alive, and he will be okay....he will survive being sat on, poked, loved to death, carried by the head, etc.  

3.   Don't think about the future.
Don't even think about anything past maybe tomorrow.   One potential deathtrap during this time is sitting there paralyzing yourself with thoughts about the future...how will i do this on my own?   how will we ever sleep again?   how will we get to church?   how will we get out of the house?   when did i get this fat??   how will we ever have more kids?"   and more and more....not good.  Take it one day at a time.  One kid at a time.  Go for one moment at a time.....this nursing session, this 10 minutes of one on one time with Aubrey, this shower, this meal, this nap, this time to let Charlie sleep on your chest....make the best or hope for the best this moment, just get through it, just survive it.   It WILL get better, easier, smoother, but later. 

4.   Aubrey will survive.
She is young and resilient enough to deal with the changes and as you've already witnessed, she is all the better for it!   And if you ever get annoyed with her, that's totally normal!  All the times I've brought a new baby home I always think the big kids seem so big and loud and dirty and generally annoying-such a contrast to my quiet, perfect, sweet newborn.  If you ever feel this way, YOU ARE NOT A BAD MOM (remember, blame the hormones)!   Seriously, emotions are all over the place right now!  Sooner than later you'll develop a new rhythm to your day and you'll barely be able to remember not having Charlie around.    

5.   Put the parenting books away until he's at least 6-8 weeks old.  Don't let it stress you out at this stage.  Don't stress about "motionless" sleep....All my kids LIVED and slept most naps in the swing or the bouncy seat or the car....just WHEREVER they would sleep i would take it and let them do it and then we'd work our way into sleeping all the time in their bed and they are fine.....no kid after the 1st will ever get the same sleep quality and quantity, and that's ok.   They survive.

6. Get help, take help, ask for help.
Take advantage of your mom and mother-in law being near, this is a GIFT!!   Take help if it's really helpful....Let people bring in meals, let people take Aubrey, hire someone to come in and clean just for two months (one can wish, right?), talk to a therapist, talk to other women, talk to me, talk to anyone so you don't feel alone....we've been there!   And then decline and say NO to what is not helpful.

7. Take the word "SHOULD" out of your vocabulary.
Don't feel like you SHOULD do anything.   Just survive and get through and do what you can and want to do right now to keep you and baby alive and thriving.   Anyone or anything that makes you feel like you should do more or do things a certain way or makes you feel even the slightest amount of guilt for ANYTHING should be eliminated for the time being.   (including ME....i just used the SH word... feel free to throw this whole thing out!  Take advice and help if you want it, but YOU are HIS mother, no one else, and no one knows his needs better than you.  

8.  Identity crisis
I've had an identity crisis after every baby (except maybe the first).  Never about real serious things.  I always know I'm a daughter of God but the day to day identity of a woman changes so much!  I'm a wife, a mother, now a mother of two, now four...  What's mine?  What's for my family?  What's the line between taking care of myself and being selfish?  Every part of me is pulled in so many directions and I'm needed by so many people.  This will all level out and eventually you'll feel grounded...and then something else will change and you'll go through this again.  This is the lot a woman I think and though it's maddening at times I think it's what allows us to feel things so deeply and intensely.  It's ok if you don't know who you are right now.  You'll get there.

9.  SWEAT PANTS ARE ALWAYS OK!!!!!!! 

Hope this helps a little.  I love you!

Sally

Questions of the Post Partum Variety

 At what point will it no longer be acceptable to wear sweat pants everyday?  (Remember, I am not just contending with post-partum pounds.  I've also got post c-section pain to accommodate as well.)

My milk is letting down every 2.5 hours whether Mr. Charles is ready to eat or not.  This never happened with Aubrey.  Will it regulate?  Because, ow.

Why do I feel like shedding some tears every day when the sun goes down?  And isn't this the cruelest phenomenon to experience during the WINTER?!

I have a cracked nipple.  I die a little each time I nurse on that side.  Will this heal?  Please, please tell me it will heal.  (And yes, I use lanolin after each and every feeding)

Charlie is being circumcised in a few days.  What can I expect?  Should I watch?

Will I ever feel normal again?

Mother Heart and Silver Lining

By way of update...

It turns out that my mother heart was right (of course), and there was something going on with Aubs besides just a never ending stomach flu.  It turns out that she has/had a urinary tract infection that we didn't know about.  She never had a fever the whole time she was sick, so it never even crossed my mind.  And I had no idea that recurring stomach issues can be a symptom of bladder infections, but it turns out that it is.  Plus, Aubrey has no real way of communicating pain to us other than crying or whining...but even then it is always a guess as to what hurts.  So we have NO idea how long she has been suffering with this UTI, and it breaks my heart.  I just wish I could have helped her sooner!  But I am so thankful that we took her to instacare and ran the tests, so now we know, and have her on a round of anti-biotics.  Tomorrow will be one week since she had a bout of diarrhea or vomiting...so we are hoping that the antibiotics are working, and that she is feeling better already.

In other news, I had an ultrasound today and got some rather disappointing news.  Baby boy is in a frank breech position.  Which means his bum is down, his head is up, and his feet are up.  He's folded up like a taco, the little stinker.  Normally it wouldn't be a huge deal because I am only 34 weeks...so there is still some time for him to turn.  But he is also measuring quite huge, which we already knew.  Today the ultrasound showed him measuring 37 weeks and 2 days.  This is important because the bigger the baby is, the less room he has to turn around.  I haven't been able to talk to my doctor about it yet, but the ultrasound technician told me that the chances of a baby turning after 35 weeks are pretty slim.  Whatever position they are in at that point is the position they typically stay in.

Of course the most important thing is that he is healthy, and growing strong.  And we definitely want to get him here as safely as possible.  But I would be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed.  I have been working so hard to prepare myself for a natural VBAC.  Reading books, listening to hypnobirthing tracks, meditating, visualizing, writing a stellar birth plan, etc.  But more and more it seems like my chance for a VBAC is slipping away, and I am going to end up with the exact same birth experience I had with Aubrey.  Which wasn't horrible or traumatizing, but was far from ideal.  And once a woman has had 2 c-sections, she will be hard pressed to find a doctor or a hospital that will allow her to try for a vaginal birth.  I felt like this was my only chance to change my birthing future.  And now I just don't know if that will happen.

So tonight, on Thanksgiving eve, I am searching for the silver lining.  Here is some.  Baby boy looks great and seems to be very healthy.  He is active.  If I do have to have a c-section, at least we will be able to guarantee he will be born in 2011.  Hello tax break!  And not having to repay our insurance deductible!  Also, I am one of those crazy women who really enjoys the hospital stay...so the 4 days of hospital recovery wouldn't be too horrible.  Let's see...what else?  Oh yes, chubby babies are so darn cute, and generally very good sleepers.

Alright, that's all I've got for now.  In the mean time I am still going to hope that he turns, and by some miracle he doesn't grow too big for me to birth vaginally.  But most of all, my pleading will be for his health, and his safe and gentle birth into our world.  We can't wait to have him join our little family.