Goals for Grace, Grief for Me

"We have joy in our days. There’s sadness, too, but we move on." - Scott Watkins on his wife's life-threatening allergies (including to himself).

This line really struck me. I am currently going through a grief cycle with Grace. As I read in another blog post, the grief will probably never end. It will come and go in waves, and just as I adapt to the "new normal", she'll have a new bridge to cross, and we'll figure out another new normal.

My number one goal for her is to be independent. She is a strong, brave toddler. In fact, as I was typing the earlier part, I noticed how quiet she was... because she was in the kitchen, pushing a chair to the counter to get gummy bunnies. Instead of this being a mama's fear, it becomes my pride and joy. I tell her not to push a chair in the kitchen and to ask mom for help; she is rewarded with gummy bunnies. (But just one pack.)

Grace exploring after pre-school yesterday

My number two goal is for her to know her own dignity and strength. Before driving to Ohio for a wedding, we tried a dress on Grace. She exclaimed, "I am so beautiful!" I love that. We should all think so highly of ourselves. On the other side it, I am trying to teach Grace to trust her body more. She has the strength and the ability, but her balance is weak. We work on stairs a lot. I'm trying to teach her to be okay with falling. We all fall, physically and otherwise, because we are human. It's the attitude about falling that separates us between existing and thriving.

Grace on a trek through the snow

My number three goal is to keep up a "try" mentality. There are always going to be experiences and people telling Grace what she can and cannot do. My parents used to tell me that I wasn't a math person because I've always struggled with numbers (turns out I have dyslexia, but that is a different story). I recognize that they were trying to lessen the brunt of my struggles. The more they told me that when I struggled, the more it cemented. The more I became resigned to a calculator. My brilliant husband, on the other hand, constantly challenges me to do mental math and introduces me to games to help me practice these mental olympics. By pushing myself as an adult, I feel the importance of continuous trying.

A while back, I posted this story on my instagram: One of the biggest question marks for me is how best to push Grace in practical ways. There are so many things we do with both hands!! Fortunately, Grace is extremely self-motivated and always asking me how she can help. So when she asked to peel the clementine by herself tonight, my heart leapt. This happened, of course, after she initially fell off a chair trying to get a second clementine first. Grace cannot catch herself on her right side, and this can be very scary. She fell and cried, and we picked her up and told her she was so brave. Then she said, I try again? YES! Of course. And she climbed up and down without incident. Now, with only a little help to start, she peeled and ate the fruit by herself. Grace, you're amazing. Innovate your abilities, people.

Maybe you are thinking, I want this for my kids too! Or, Don't you want this for your other kids too? Well, of course. But here's the difference: typical kids do not have to learn how to use their muscles. Typical kids do not have to learn to use one side of their body. Typical kids do not have to overcome a stroke. And this is why I am grieving. I want to give Grace everything. But I can't. She has to propel herself. Sometimes, she asks to be carried down the stairs and I say no. Not because I am a heartless wench - but because I want her to thrive. I stay with her while she walks slowly. She is three years old, after all.

Family walk.

Grace, in short, must learn what it means to be human. She has been given a gift of empathy, innovation and trial. She has suffered much in her short life, and she will suffer more. I cannot stop this from happening. Even now, we are introducing her to walk-aid, which is an e-stim for her leg. She will get electronic current sent down her leg to signal her dorsal flexors to work properly in her right foot. The hope is that, in the future, she will not need her brace. We do not know if this will happen, but we try anyways.

(Mumford and Sons - "Turning of the Tide")

A final note on grief: I am not crying every day. I am not in mourning. I do feel a deep sorrow in my soul out of love for my child; but I cannot let this grief stop me from letting her live life to the fullest. It is certainly a teeter-totter of emotion! I am (still) learning to trust myself as her mother, I am learning to try again, and I am learning the dignity and strength in being the caretaker of someone who requires extra needs.

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#write31days: PostPartum Depression - How Did You Know? // Introduction and Rules of Engagement

Last October, I attempted #write31days but without a serious mindset... quantity really- I wanted to write more. And I did! It was great. Today, I am starting this challenge over with a more guided topic. Postpartum depression.

I discussed ideas with a few friends, and this topic came up multiple times. How do you handle PPD as a Catholic women? How do you handle it with residency? How do you handle it with multiple children? What does it feel like? What should others know about PPD? The questions went on and on...

My "rules" for this series are short: this topic is personal and I am currently living in it. This is not an abstract for a dissertation. I do not have 20/20 hindsight yet. I don't need any medical advice, as I keep in close communication with my own PA + Dr., as well as being married to one. My husband and I practice many different types of coping mechanisms as well, which I will write about too. My situation is 100 percent unique and I am writing only about myself. These posts are directed at no one, and still, I am opening myself up to share my experiences. If I can help one person, it will be worth it. Please respect this adult conversation at face value.

**

How do you know you are depressed (PPD) and it's not just the baby blues?

This is the number one question many women ask. I am on baby number three in three years. Shockingly to many, this is not the cause of my depression. My depression has to do (mainly) with external factors in my life which I do not have [much] control over. I mention this because I have bonded with my third child wonderfully, just like I did with my other two.

I mention this because many women dismiss their feelings because they do not fall into the normal realm of what depression looks like. If you are taking anything your baby does personally, that should be a warning sign. A baby is for cuddling and feeding. A baby wants love and affection, and cries because something is wrong - or nothing is wrong! All three of my children spent the first month or two of their lives crying "just because"... baby wearing, baby swinging, and being okay with crying.

My main symptoms are anger and irritability. Everything bugs me - but what sends me over the edge is the perpetual whining of my three year old. Grace repeats herself constantly, and this is normal! There is nothing wrong with this! But for me, it was nails on a chalkboard. Combine this with anxiety if the house descends into madness (thanks, Laura); if I've forgotten something I am supposed to do; if I watch time tock by, paralyzed by what I should do...

This is not a normal response to stress. This is, at the very least, a reason to talk to a medical professional. If you have a feeling something is off, your intuition is probably right. Don't ignore it.

I knew something was wrong when Grace began whining and I just had to leave the room; I wanted to punch the wall repeatedly. I called the phone nurse at my OB's office, and as I told her my symptoms, I started sobbing.

I am currently taking medicine, which I will address in another post. Medicine combined with exercise and other coping mechanisms for healthy living is key - we cannot expect medicine alone to "fix" my feelings, anymore than we should think "natural living" is enough for women to cope.

With my first two children, I would feel sad and overwhelmed and stressed from time to time... with Stephen, there were times when I wanted to leave the house. I wanted to punch the wall; I wanted to cry and yell; I wanted to curl up in a ball and ignore everyone. These are not normal response to stress. My medicine is only 20 mg, but it is enough. When I hear whining, I can respond calmly or ignore it. I can find order in the chaos and I can laugh. I am 110 percent a better mother taking medicine, and I feel much more like myself.

And this is really the most telling part of depression - I didn't feel like myself. I didn't know this version of Julie, and I didn't like it. I love my family and I wanted to enjoy these young days. This is why I sought help and now, this is why I am writing about postpartum depression and anxiety. The only thing to fear is *not* accepting help. Don't try to rationalize your feelings or dismiss them. If you need help, ask for it. This is scary, and that is okay.

Before Grace's eye surgery; when I had first started medication

**
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NFP as a Mama of Three

It's the end of NFP Awareness Week, so I'm going to throw in a few cents as a mama with three kids under three.

Natural Family Planning is getting to know the woman's fertility through various means (mucus, hormone monitor, basal thermometer, etc.) and then, making a decision about when to have sex in order to avoid, conceive or whatever. This is called TTA (trying to avoid), TTC (trying to conceive) and TTW (trying to whatever).

We have a child from each of these. Grace was a TTW - we were open to having a baby, and based on where I was in my cycle, we had a 5 percent chance of conceiving. Laura was TTC - we wanted to have another baby close to Grace. Stephen was TTA - the postpartum method we were using was not successful, and his conception was considered a method failure. This does not mean that NFP = children even when you are avoiding. Plenty of people successfully avoid using the same method. To me, this means that God wanted Stephen in our lives. I cannot imagine life without this chunky monkey. Practically, I also changed how I track my fertility postpartum!

This time around, I started charting with my teacher before my 56 days were up. After a lady has a baby, she is definitely infertile for the first 56 days. After that, even if you are breastfeeding, your fertility can come back (as we learned) before the usual six months. It is unusual, but it does happen.

We are currently using the Marquette method and working closely with a wonderful teacher as we navigate the postpartum period. Since I do not have any health problems we have to work around, this is the easiest method for us. Every morning, I pee on a stick (we buy with Amazon's subscribe and save - a steal! Especially with five or more items, you get a 15 percent discount) and my ClearBlue monitor (Also on sale with Prime currently) tells me if my fertility is low, high, or peak.

From the Marquette website:

The Marquette Model (MM) system of NFP brings 21st century technology to NFP by using the ClearBlue Easy Fertility Monitor, a device used at home which measures hormone levels in urine to estimate the beginning and end of the time of fertility in a women's menstrual cycle. The information from the monitor can be used in conjunction with observations of cervical mucus, basal body temperature, or other biological indicators of fertility. The MM was developed by professional nurses and physicians at Marquette University in the late 1990s. A recent (2007) study published in the Journal of Obstetric, Gynecologic, and Neonatal Nursing demonstrated a 97-98% efficacy of the MM in avoiding pregnancy when taught by a qualified teacher and correctly applied.

There is more protocol in terms of how many days one should avoid post-peak, and postpartum pre-peak vs. postpartum post-peak, but that is not what this post is about. This post is about why Will and I choose NFP over other methods.

The easiest place to start is our faith. We're Roman Catholic, and as part of our Christian faith, we practice total fidelity. We do not use artificial contraception. The Church does not require us to use NFP, but it does advocate responsible parenthood. "Be fruitful and multiple" does not mean have more children than your sanity, bank account and body can handle. The Church's teaching must be seen through the eyes of total love; it is for communion of body and soul, not a separation.

That being said, NFP is not a Catholic-only method. I know many non-Catholics who use it. Leah Libresco, a Catholic convert from atheism, recently wrote on learning NFP while engaged. She recommends Toni Weschler’s Taking Charge of Your Fertility, which teaches FAM - Fertility Awareness Method, or NFP + barrier methods during avoiding times. TCOYF is the definitive text for learning about one's fertility, reproductive health and charting. This is not only for married folk - charting is the best way to understand how your body is working, and learning to recognize  and interpret changes.

Next, is science. Unlike the popular myth that all NFP methods are the same (or the rhythm method), a woman's fertility is unique and scientists like those at Marquette University, or Dr. Hilgers with his Creighton method, are actively studying women's fertility and have proven, peer-reviewed methods of helping women avoid and achieve pregnancy when practiced correctly. I say "correctly" because this is the danger of NFP - a woman can get pregnant. But this happens to people using birth control methods as well, so I'm nonplussed about this part. I truly think that NFP is as valid a method to avoid and achieve, with the bonus of *knowing* one's fertility (no more guesswork!) and creating an incredible bond with your spouse.

We use the Kindara app to chart - so well organized and a beautiful design. I love that I can add-in more information than what is provided already too.

Finally: love. There is nothing more trust-building than two spouses on board with fertility planning. The husband is equally as involved as his wife; he carries responsibility as she does. This is not always easy. Will and I did not pick NFP because we enjoy this challenge; but is it worth it? Absolutely. We practice fidelity to one another; open communication; incredible vulnerability; respect and acceptance of the total person; value and honor for God's design; true self-sacrifice. The benefits, for us, outweigh the fear.

True love must know sacrifice. This is why our wedding vows speak of leaving our mother and father and joining to our spouse. The current statistics on divorce is about 50 percent**, which is terrifying. NFP users have a lower rate - hovering around 9.5 percent. Having sex is not just for creating a child. It's also for bonding! But the accountability and responsibility is still there, and we take that seriously.

It's hard to be pregnant. It might not seem that way, especially coming from someone who has had three successful pregnancies in three years. We were open to that. We were open to that challenge. I would not recommend this path to most people, but we feel very blessed to have our three children and be in a position to care for them. It should not, however, and is not to be taken for granted. People love asking if we're done now that we've had our boy. Hopefully not! Will and I are still discerning, as is part of our marriage.

**
"Which Method of NFP Is Right For Me?" quiz

**

I love strolling down memory lane. I love thinking about all the walks we went on while dating and engaged; hiking and talking about Big, Philosophical questions and telling stories and discussing what we wanted in life. Will and I decided that we wanted to spend our lives together - eating and grocery shopping; chores and cleaning up after little people; in good times and in bad; in morning sickness and in health. I thought I loved Will when we got engaged, and even more when we got married. And I did. I love him even more now. Be assured that marriage is hard for us too, and NFP is harder. There is a lot of dying to self. NFP strips away the pretension and the pride, and leaves us to face our own reality. Each NFP experience is unique, and I like knowing that it is part of our love story. It's anecdotal evidence, but in the search for fullness of the human experience, what else is there?

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** EDIT: A friend sent me this article, which says that divorce rate is well below 50 now and that this statistic is incorrect. Happy to hear!

Maternity Leave Musings (Or, Sorry for Not Writing More): 7 Weeks Young

Bonjour! Hola! Hello, friend. Thank you for reading. How are we (almost) through the month of June and I haven't published again? I suppose summer is my maternity leave and summer vacation. A vacation where I attend circus camp, or, learning to juggle of three kids under three years old and handle toddlers who want the blue cup, not the yellow, or whatever her sister has (currently).

Hi yourself! What have you been doing?!

Stephen was born, I turned in my students' grades, and I was balancing three different medication schedules. Lyme, thrush and postpartum anxiety. PSA: check yourself and your family for ticks, if you spend time outside.

How are you feeling?

If you would have told 18 year old me that I'd be tired by 9:45 p.m. when I was 28, I probably would have laughed. I've always been a night owl... which means now is I can be up at 4 a.m. to walk Stephen around until he falls asleep; collapse into bed; wake up with my two chicks clucking from their bedroom.

Motherhood makes me stronger. It's endurance training. It's creativity and adventure. It's the tea bag in hot water metaphor that Eleanor Roosevelt said. I'm re-learning my limits and re-organzing our schedule/ house. I'm reading books for fun! (Need more David Foster Wallace! Currently reading about Catherine the Great and listening to Tolkien on cd.) I'm getting outside and enjoying our summer schedule; starting postpartum exercise. Grace was just approved for eye surgery by our insurance (hooray! more on that later!), so that's one more thing going our way.

Which is to say, I'm feeling fine. How are you?

Okay, elephant in the room: Seriously - how do you handle three kids by yourself?!

I don't live on an island alone. I have a husband who pitches in with everything and helps keep me focused and organized. I have a cleaning company come once a month since our rental is so old and our children are so young. Friends to text. And family! My MIL came for three weeks, then my mother for two weeks, and after I was alone during a number of night shifts (shakes fist at scheduling gods), my MIL arrived for another couple days stay to pick up our former Honda CRV. It's been a revolving door, honestly.

Sure, many days, I am alone. I've taken the kids out of the house multiple times - the grocery store, therapy, and even wrangled them to two doctors' appointments last Monday. I pack my bag full of snacks/bribes, diapers+wipes, and give myself enough time to get from point A to point B.

You're not convincing me, lady. 

It's a day by day thing.

I take a deep breath, nap when I can (or mentally rest with a t.v. show while I take care of Stephen if the girls are napping) and practice the value of "me" - enough sleep, water, nourishing food, exercise (even just a little), prayer and my medication. Last night, we took a walk to the emergency department for a change of scenery and to give Will dinner; it was a win-win for both of us.

My parents came to visit us after the Youth National Rowing Championship my brother and sister were in a few weekends ago, and my dad reminded me that they got a nanny after three kids. That sounds like a dreamboat, even though I do not work full-time like my mom did (does).

 It does give a person perspective, though. I'm officially in zone-to-zone defense.

Stop the presses. I read "medication" earlier. Are you on medication because you're crazy enough to have three kids in three years?

I developed anxiety while pregnant with Stephen; there were a lot of factors, but by the time the birth came, I was feeling amazing. When Will and I were walking home from the hospital with Stephen, I remember telling him that this was the best I've ever felt after a birth, and how excited I was to jump into this new adventure. About a week later, I felt the baby blues; a week after that, I felt them getting worse. I called my PA and immediately took action (but not before crying to the Phone Nurse). I'm trying to be honest about this because these meds are going to be with me for the summer, at least - and to remove some of the stigma of going on medication. Sometimes, you need it.

And yes: having three kids under three is the craziest and most amazing experience yet. You'll have to trust me there. I don't recommend it to (or for) everyone. But I'm thriving.

What makes it so amazing?

One thing my PA told me is that a lot of women get postpartum depression/ anxiety because their partner is not supportive of them. This is not my issue, and she stressed to me how lucky I am. I can 110 percent say that I could not do this without Will, even though his hours are not super-changing and residency is still residency. Have you ever been part of a team where your side is always for you? Even when you're crying because you ordered the birth announcements and made a minor error that no one else notices unless you point it out to them?

Will and I are both very independent people, and one of the best parts of having more kids is how we've become more interdependent on each other and really embraced the family lifestyle. This is not easy with our schedule; whether it's falling asleep on the girls' floor after a shift so he can be there for the bedtime routine, or staying up late to clean the kitchen and get ready for the next day.

One of my favorite sayings its from Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring: "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us." Will and I choose each other every day. It sounds romantic, and it is; it can also be hard and self-denying. Still, we see beauty in what we know and how we choose to love ourselves, each other and our family. This is amazing. The actions we do each day builds our family, our adventures, our life. Boring is a perspective.

So! Things we're doing:

• Cleaning up/out every single room in the house. We've completed 4 so far; working on the dining room (dining room/ my downstairs office/ the girls' art table) right now
• Writing/ sending birth announcements and thank you cards 
• Playing outside and taking walks to the park
• Adjusting nap schedules 
• Eating popsicles
• Napping and getting to bed earlier 
• Books on cd; tv shows from the library; podcasts during the day and night
• Starting potty training (and watching Potty Time)
• Adding more items to my Subscribe & Save (guilty pleasure/ part of our kids budgeting)
• Making a zillion lists
• G's therapies 
• Trips to the library and grocery store
• Exploring new places
• Work stuff (third year and last year of residency starts tomorrow!)
• Posting on Instagram 

Hopefully, I'll publish more too (I write all the time, but I'm trying to keep it 50-50 with my reading). But in the meantime, here's to new adventures. May you have one every day.

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"Woolies for the Winter": Here We Go A Wandeling

One of my best friends, Betsy Howard, and another very dear friend, Laura Kern, have started a women's publishing house, Wandeling Press, and are publishing their first children's book - "Woolies for Winter"!

Fellow Hillsdale College grads who became friends through Mars Hills Academy - a small classical school where Betsy and Laura's husband both worked - they reconnected and collaborated in lyrical poetry and beautiful watercolors.

The best part? They met their goal - for the first book! They plan on writing at least one more per season, and many other books to follow. Help stretch their goal - hear more from Betsy here!

With Betsy's finesse of language and Laura's attention to details, these books will be treasured for years to come.

1. Become a backer - today! Goal ends at midnight of December 20, 2015.
2. Share this project (They were a staff pick in Publishing - featured on Kickstarter!)
3. Follow on Facebook

Want to know more? Here's their blog.

Support Wandeling Press, get your own copy of "Woolies for Winter" and help launch a great renaissance of children's literature.

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Laura Kathleen's Birth Story: The Second

This story is also called, The Girl Who Cried Induction...!

In the beginning was the Due Date

The difference between our first baby and our second baby was scheduling. In New Orleans, Will skipped class when I was in labor. His teachers knew I was due and all was fine.

In Bethlehem, we had a very specific window of time because of Will's job and my limited maternity leave with school. This caused a lot of stress on my end, alleviated partially by the presence of my wonderful, helpful mother-in-law (who arrived a week before my due date and stayed a few days after Laura's birth).

Grace came at 40 weeks, 2 days, so I wasn't necessarily in a rush to have this baby. Actually, I remember specifically praying that she would come after my Thursday classes, because then I would be mostly done and my Friday class could watch Thursday's lecture. (Priorities!) I was convinced she would come that weekend...

Bye, bye weekend. Hello, last week of February.

Will had this week off, and BOTH my in-laws were in town to spend time with the new baby. Bebe Deux, however, was quite comfy inside and I don't blame her. It's cold here in February.

Fine, whatever. Monday. Tuesday? WEDNESDAY. I had an appointment with the OB and I discussed induction. It wasn't my preferred plan but March was approaching and March meant Will's SICU. I was super nervous it was going to be as bad busy as January's MICU rotation. In January, Will left around 4:30-5 a.m. and got home after 8 p.m. Another ICU month also meant he would not have any more time off, and could not wait around for the birth to happen. We decided to induce on Friday evening, if she didn't arrive earlier.

Wednesday, Thursday, Friday... I wasn't teaching class this week. I was off and uncomfortable. I kept having pains, but nothing consistent. For dinner that night, I barely finished my sushi roll. I finished packing and gave Gracie kisses ta-ta.

Since we live within walking distance to the hospital, we walked there in the cold and entered the ER, where triage checked me in, and we were paraded around the Emergency Department, with everyone not with a patient cheered us on. It was pretty awesome. We went up to OB, got settled into another triage room and a resident came in to check me. She and Will knew each other from his OB rotation, and it is always fun watching him interact with the other doctors.

She then told me I had advanced from 1 cm to 3 cm in two days, and when she consulted with the attending, they sent me home. I was too far along.

WHAT.

The part where I went home and contracted

We understand: induce a girl at 8 p.m. and she could be having a baby in the wee hours of the morning... so, no sleep. Still ready, and sadly, I walked home with Will. My in-laws were deciding which movie they wanted to watch on Netflix and YAY! We were home in time to watch it with them. They decided to watch The Terminator, a Baldwin family favorite that I had yet to see.

Yeah. Not my first choice for films to contract to... About halfway through, we take a break for popcorn. I am now regularly contracting, but I had an OB on hand (thanks, FIL!) and he didn't think I was in a rush-back-to-the-hospital situation; my MIL was giddy-excited. Will tried to help me feel more comfortable, and then asked why I did not seem to be enjoying the film.

BECAUSE I AM CONTRACTING. And because I don't get it. (Arnold: why is it so scary?!)

Movie over. I appreciate it more and think how this movie would tie into a post. Go to bed. Contractions.

Wake up at 5:45 a.m. to a phone call from the hospital telling me they are too full and will not be inducing me this morning; they will call me when they're able. NOPE I'VE CONTRACTED ALL NIGHT. Oh, says the nurse. Then come on in!

Hospital, here to stay

Let me begin by being upfront with you: I was in triage for six hours. Apparently everyone in the area decided to go into labor and filled up the previously empty wing. I was hooked up to a monitor, in pain, 100% effaced and...

We both needed coffee BADLY.

The Good:

• Will had a really good month in the OB back in October and so we became a floor favorite of people stopping in to say hi! That's always fun. 
• painting my nails (please see exhibit A)
• hope eternal

exhibit A, in all its glory

The Bad:

• could not sleep (contractions)
• uncomfortable
• no coffee, hungry 

The Horrible:

• lots of contractions, still 3 cm
• waiting

Around 12:30, we arrive in a delivery room. It is large, spacious and fabulous. It was the only room available and I loved it! I promptly got my pitocin. The contractions got worse and really started to hurt. A few hours later, the anesthesiologist came to give me my epidural. This doctor was highly competent and extremely professional, and I have never been in so much pain.

I do not know if the spot did not accept the numbing medication or what, but Will stood in front of me and held me steady as I silently cried into him as the needle went into my back. I am so glad Will was allowed to stay in the room (definite doctor privileges - too much liability otherwise). He was my rock during that time, and helped me relax so as to finish the procedure.

Meanwhile, that epidural was total liquid gold. It was amazing once the line was in; made the rest of the evening much more bearable.

Around 5 o'clock, another resident came to check on me. Even with all the contractions, I was not moving along. They decided to break my water. After that, it was downhill skiing. Every time they checked me, I was closer and closer to 10 cm! Finally. My in-laws had checked in earlier with Grace, and all were waiting!

The last hiccup in waiting for Laura was my blood sugar. In all this time, I hadn't eaten anything since the night before. I had been given water and weak broth, and I was fading.

This is not a meal.

I felt silly, but talked to the nurse about it anyways. She checked my blood sugar and it was super low. She followed up with my attending, who ordered full-fat beef broth, jello, ginger ale and tea. I devoured it all. I watched Mulan with Will (who was studying), and texted my sister (who saved the screenshot):

Eventually, I ended up falling asleep after a boost of pain meds. My first real rest - and that felt good. Then, Will woke me up. He was positive that I was 10 cm by now and found the attending. He was right! It was time to push!

I had a full-troop in my room: my attending, a resident, a nurse and a nursing student (and Will!). The nursing student and I had bonded earlier, and now she was holding my hand and encouraging me. It was such a positive environment and I am so grateful for that. 18 minutes later, at 9:33 p.m., Laura Kathleen was born.

APGAR: 9 and 9.

8 lbs, 5 oz. and 20 inches long.

It was all very surreal. My parents were having a dinner party with their college friends, and when I texted my sister the news, everyone started celebrating and drinking to Laura. My MIL was in the waiting room, and got to meet her a few minutes later.

Will stayed for a bit, brought me flowers (tulips!!!) and then went home to sleep. Just Laura and mama time. I could tell this was the beginning of a beautiful adventure together, my Bebe Deux and me.

Grace's Birth Story

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Introducing Bebe Deux

Presenting, the newest member of the Baldwin Babes... Laura Kathleen

After a long saga (which I will detail later), she arrived on February 28, 2015 at 9:33 p.m.

She is 8 lbs, 2 oz and 20 inches long; blue eyes, black (?) hair and APGAR scores of 9 and 9

She was 41 weeks, 2 days at birth; very serious, snuggly and sleepy in first 24 hours out

Her nicknames currently include: Lady Laura, Ladybug, Concerned Citizen of the World, Grumpy Cat

Mother and Father are ecstatic! Sister is mildly ambivalent.

Welcome, darling Laura! You are dearly, dearly loved!

In One Month

This weekend, my friend Liesl visited from the D.C. area. It was a good vegging weekend combined with a lot of grading and school prep, and a good friend who enjoys GHB time almost as much as me.

Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day, another day of school, and one month till my due date. Yep, ONE MONTH. I checked in at the hospital and the OB nurse who processed my papers remembered Will as "the skinny resident who brought his own media" ... yes! That's my guy.

I asked for an epidural, skin-to-skin with my Bebe and to preferably not have a room near the nurses' station, since I am a light sleeper and the 36 hours I was in the hospital with Grace was way too much awake time.

Whaaaaaat? Sleeep?! {Days old Grace gets it.}

The one month before Grace was born, I wrote this {previously unpublished} post:

Sometimes, I wonder how I get to each new day. This weekend, I went to bed earlier than usual and I took my Tylenol PM as a pre-caution against being too awake while being overly-tired. 

An hour went by. 

Another hour went by. 

Will fell asleep 5 minutes after we said night prayers, and stayed asleep till around 6:30 a.m. I tried to keep sleeping; at least I was comfortable, wedged between three pillows. But I also knew I couldn’t stay in bed long before my stomach would start rumbling, hurting, demanding food. Or I would have to use the bathroom, again. 

This past week was a breakthrough for me. I talked to Will about my child birth fears. My rational, knowledgeable doctor-husband talked me through worst-case-scenarios (that’s where my mind always goes). I’m a big proponent of modern medicine, but I’ve also never been in the hospital myself. I’ve been there to volunteer, I’ve been there to see my mom after her baby deliveries, I’ve been there to see my mom at work, I’ve been there to visit people, and I’ve been there (well, the medical office building) for check-ups. 

I’m quite healthy. My fertility is healthy too. Will and I had our first meeting with our new Marquette teacher this past week. We’re switching from Creighton to Marquette for post-partum, and I’m excited for this new venture in fertility awareness. I’m lucky. I have no reasons to be nervous. 

My Bambino Baldwin is active to the point that I am convinced he/she is going to join the circus post-delivery. I’m about to start the job of a lifetime; a job I can never quit, a job I’ll find purpose in every day. Even if that purpose is making sure I drink at least one cup of coffee so I can pursue my passions, or whatever laundry needs folding, or just enjoying my baby.

It's very different knowing that Bebe Deux is a girl. It's very different bringing another baby into our family with both parents working, another baby already present to continue care for, and a non-warm climate. It's been a different pregnancy since I'm technically high risk. I did not attend birth class this time around, and my support person is just Will (no doula - even though I really loved having one!).

I have a lot of work to get done for school, and I'm trying to remain semi-optimistic about residency life even though this rotation is the worst, and Will's going to be on a similar one in March, a.k.a. 1-2 weeks after Bebe Deux comes out. (I WILL SURVIVE!)

Survival mode, however, is really where I see my strength come through. I do what has to be done. I ignore what can be ignored. I eat, love and pray to God that I get through till Will gets home, and then I allow myself to collapse. I sat on the bed a few days ago, overwhelmed by my day and Grace's clinging and thought, How will I manage with two?!

Waking up is hard sometimes...

I know I'll manage. I'll manage because I have to: because I'll have two little girls who depend on me, and a husband who needs me. I'll lean back on him (because I need him too), and kiss my little girls for smiles and good days and tears and bad days.

Snuggles make the world go 'round.

I'm not thinking worst-case scenarios this day. I'm not thinking messy, even though life is messy. I'm thinking joy. I'm thinking anticipation of meeting someone who is going to change my life. Change my life the way Will changes my life, the way Grace changes my life, the way Christ changes my life. The radical love of motherhood and calling and purpose and being and doing.

Grace "drinking coffee" and then smacking her lips after...

One month.

I Am What I Repeatedly Do: Why I Blog

I don't remember reading about this ring in Purgatory, but reading students' papers must be penance for all the bad papers I've written in my life.

I remember, freshman year, I wrote a bad paper. More accurately, a poorly edited paper. Ug, to think of it now! I just ran out of time! Time management has never been my strong suit. My professor asked me to stop by his office and told me that he's read my other papers, and he's read my articles in the school papers I wrote for - and I can do better. I have a way with words, and this paper was not up to par with my abilities.

Ouch, is all I remember. Oh, the shame. The shame. I needed that dose of reality. Hillsdale College gave me repeated doses of reality, all four years, and I became a better student because of them.

Now, I'm teaching writing to those young students of history. I'm teaching them the five paragraph format, thesis, body, analysis, and an original conclusion. It's made me think a lot about writing and my own journey.

The essay is, arguably, my favorite type of writing. It is also one of the hardest, due to its style and length. Which brings me to blogging.

I'll never understand all the existential crises I've had in regards to my blog. The WHY DO I BLOG misgivings and continuing the write here years after the willy-nilly start of this blog during college: the pull is still strong. I wrote through a Washington, D.C. internship, senior year of college, my first three jobs, friendships, and my entire relationship with my husband.

Sometimes, my blogging is about what I omit too - I've never wrote about the depth of my spiritual battles in college, heartaches again and again, the loneliness and hurt that cut deeper when you live in a snow globe, or dyslexia suspicions. But writing my blog - writing about my small victories, what I'm reading, what I'm trying, and what I love - gives me courage to write more publicly about the harder subjects, the ones I keep much closer to my shy heart.

When I was in college, I wrote letters to a few friends regularly. Most didn't reply back often in letter (gchat or a a text confirmed they were appreciated and read), but forging our friendship deeper helped me open up myself as an acceptable voice worth listening to. I loved writing letters in college, and today, as I struggle to finish Grace's birthday Thank You notes still, this blog is my new way of writing letters to friends I know are still reading.

I do write letters - I'm still pen-pals with a former professor of mine, a high school friend of mine, and a few college friends, including a sister-in-formation. I love the postcards that arrive in the mail now from travels; the baby announcements; and soon, the Christmas cards. For now, however, the blog reigns as my short essay; a kind of memoir, maybe, and a place where I can always publish, and even when I don't - where I can always write and don't have to worry about finding a stamp.

writing/ studying on the drive up to Michigan with our family pup

I never grappled with the term "writer" - I am one, ever since I was in the third grade and decided what I wanted to be while writing about Leprechauns. I do grapple with the word "blogger" though because, eh, it seems so informal. It brings out my worst fear that I am "wasting my talents" {unquote} and that what I write is unimportant... which brings me to you, dear readers: thanks for all the feedback.

Your feedback really brings out my Winston Churchill side to never, never, never, never give up writing. Some days, I'm too anxious to post -- what am I writing about?! For all the struggles and woe writing can bring, it is words that soothe the mind and warm the heart. Blogging gives that to me, and it gives back to those who needed to hear those words - it is too often to be a coincidence that I write substance people need to hear. This blog has the Holy Spirit racing through, and I feel it. My blog is beginning to feel like a mission, a purposeful outlet.

Then again, this is exactly what I try to capture in writing my blog - the extraordinary of the ordinary. The blog is such a normal medium, and my life isn't so special - except that it's mine. And as the leading lady of my own life, I have that responsibility to enjoy it.

And that is why I blog: I enjoy it. I don't blog for the numbers; I blog for the community that has grown around me and The Corner with a View. I don't always blog my best work; my best work comes out because of the writing I publish on this blog. I blog for the love of it, and that is really the only way to pursue passions. People are attracted to the genuine, to the beautiful and to love, and that is what I hope to give to my readers here.


Do you blog? Or why do you read blogs? What are your Aristotelian pursuits of the day?

Happy Monday! Thanks for reading, as my younger set like to write upon the conclusion of their essays... {We're working on that!}

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Why I Don't Ask About Future Babies

TW: babies, infertility, miscarriage

Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. I've never lost a baby in utero, but it's more common than many admit. Both my mother and my mother-in-law have children in Heaven, and my Father says that losing that baby (whom he calls "Joseph") is what firmly cemented him in the every-life-is-precious camp.

I am also in this camp: both my babies are miracles. I do not take either of them for granted. I have too many friends who have confided in me that they have lost a baby in utero, or have been unsuccessful in conceiving a dear one.

It's a common enough sentiment: a couple gets married -- So! when are you going to have a baby?!

Then, that baby is born. A few months later: So! when are you going to have another baby?!

Sometimes, people ask because they think you should wait. Other times, they ask because they hope it is soon. Most times, people are just being nosy.

Will and I have discerned differently about baby timings, and fortunately, so far, we've conceived both times under an agreed-upon time frame. After bebe deux is born next year, we will re-evaluate for when we'd like bebe tres to make a mark in the world. We will continue to re-evaluate and talk about it, which is one of the definite perks and intimacies of natural family planning.

But we're realistic that babies have their own timelines. That conception rates are under 25 percent. That we've been very, very, very lucky and blessed to have two under two.

When we ask people about their baby timelines, it brings up a lot of emotions: it brings up career fears and ambitions, it brings up longing and doubt, it brings up the serious side of sex and the true effort that goes into having a baby.

Not everyone is so lucky.

Many people will try for years. Some people suffer miscarriages, even multiple miscarriages. Those losses are not easy to move on from, and the woman's body often needs time to heal, as well as her spirit.

When I became pregnant with our second, I was ecstatic. It was exactly right. Will was excited, and this means our two babies will be babies together. We wanted the first two close in age.

Then, sadness draped over me like a mantle I could not take off. I couldn't tell anyone! Anyone who was married and trying, anyone I knew who was suffering from not becoming pregnant. This pregnancy would hurt them, deeply. I told my family and slowly told friends, and wondered when I should go public. Technically, I did not have to go public - but these days, I couldn't avoid having my picture taken for nine months, and then no one would notice the extra baby just happening to hang out with us...

After a month and a half of this sadness, I realized that it is good to rejoice over the happiness of our second, and there is a time to be sad with others.

I would never wish away my babies, but I can pray for those angels in Heaven, including my brother Joseph, and for their families on earth.

I should add that I do not mind discussing babies or future babies with the well-intentioned and loved ones; but there should be a spirit of discretion. I pray that the joy I have with my babies will inspire a love and want to pour out self-wants and fear, and fall in love with the little human who will always love you better than you can love yourself.

Now, back to the baby who is calling "mama!" to me...!

Grace's Diagnosis: Or, What Cerebral Palsy Means

Grace turned 11 months this week. It is time to write about Grace's diagnosis. I have thought and prayed a lot about it; I fear ignorance, and I want to dispel fear. What people do not know, they Google. And internet search engines do not diagnosis people. {p.s. this is a long post}

If I had a quarter for every time someone told me how beautiful my daughter Grace is, or how she looks like the Gerber baby, or how she should be a model, Grace's first year of college would be paid in full. It's fact, not opinion. My daughter has beautiful eyes, long eyelashes, a perfectly round head with a cute chin, a button nose, a rosebud mouth, and the softest skin. The way she catches your eye and smiles; the way she laughs! When she was born, I couldn't stop staring at her or holding her. She is still so perfect.

She was born at 40 weeks, 2 days. A low risk, uncomplicated pregnancy; I pushed for almost an hour and a half. Her APGAR scores were 9 and 10, and her Moro reflex was perfect. We got released early from the hospital, which was a God-send. I couldn't sleep with nurses coming in every hour or so.

Around 3 months, we noticed she liked to keep her right hand fisted. The family nicknamed her "Little Lefty Baldwin" - but I read that kids do not prefer a hand until 2-4 years old. Will and I started to talk possibilities. We decided, if she was still clenching her hand, we would bring up PT/OT to Grace's pediatrician.

At six months, she was examined by three doctors, none of whom were conclusive about why her hand was clenching. She was moving her arm around, opening her hand occasionally, and responding well to tests. Her pediatrician prescribed PT/OT through a Louisiana program called Early Steps.

A month of evaluations, and she was in the system. Grace was assigned a therapist we called Ms. Lisa, and she was a wonder woman for Grace. She taught us so much too, and recommended us to see a pediatric physiatrist, Dr. Karlin; he attended Mayo for medical school, is triple board certified, and well-known for diagnosing hard cases. He also has cerebral palsy.

Dr. Karlin met with us, examined Grace, had Grace's bones scanned, and wanted to do a CT scan on her as well. Will pushed for an MRI instead, because if the CT scan was inconclusive, we would have to do an MRI anyways, and he wanted Grace to have the least exposure to the radiation.

On May 26, Grace's 8th month mark, she had her MRI. In retrospect, it was such a blessed day. I was not allowed to breastfeed her for six+ hours, and I was petrified she would be weeping from hunger. Quite the opposite - she got mad at me briefly, but was in quite good spirits for the whole procedure.

Later that day, we got a phone call from Dr. Karlin's office to meet him the next day to discuss Grace's MRI. Will and I felt a little trepidation, but Grace's symptoms never seemed serious enough for major concern.

Nothing prepared us for seeing the MRI.

In utero, Grace suffered a massive stroke. In an adult, it would have been devastating. But Grace's little brain is so elastic, and it already started to heal itself (my non-medical opinion based on how well she was/is doing/ apparent muscle weakness). Later, we met with a neurosurgeon, who said she would not need a shunt, which means there is no fluid build-up. This diagnosis is not progressive. Grace can only get better.

Grace has right hemiparesis cerebral palsy. This mean she had a stroke before the age of 1 (cerebral palsy), and it affected part of the left side of her brain, which affects the right side of her body (right hemiparesis). Her right arm, hand and leg are weaker than her left. The neurosurgeon also said, with intensive physical and occupational therapy, she should have full strength on her right side by age 5 or 6. She may need speech therapy in the future. She may continue therapy past 5 or 6.

There are still a lot of unknowns. There are still a lot of hope. Grace has unlimited potential! The doctors are amazed at her -- she was a difficult case to diagnose because her symptoms did not fit the mold. She is already doing things we were told she may never do, like crawl. GHB thrives because of her self-determination, and by the enormous love and support of her family.

I have resisted publishing my thoughts on Grace's diagnosis because the emotions are so raw. I'm sensitive to thoughtless comments, though, and after the beyond base tweet of Richard Dawkins that parents who do not abort their children with Down syndrome are "immoral" (and should just "try again"), I could no longer be silent.

No one chooses to have children with special needs (besides adoption): we are chosen. We are chosen, even when we are scared and feel weak and do not know how we can be the best thing for the child. Grace had a stroke in utero that just happened (so the doctors have told us thus far); I do not have any medical issues, or family history, and the pregnancy was healthy and low risk.

Staring at Grace's MRI that day with Will, my chest tightened, and I didn't believe what I was seeing. And Will, who understood better than I what we were looking at, only strengthened his resolve to make sure Grace gets exactly what she needs from us to thrive. He is certainly the best father to Grace, and exactly who she needs.

It is okay to be scared when your child is given a scary diagnosis. But you are exactly what you need for your child. I was scared - what if I did her exercises wrong? What if...? But when it came down to it, that was pride speaking. My comfort zone didn't like someone else sitting on the couch, demanding my time and energy, compassion and empathy.

Moreover, I've been amazed by the time and compassion given to us by Grace's doctors and therapists, both in New Orleans and now here in PA. They are teaching me as much as they are teaching Grace. They give me perspective, and they give me insights. I am a better mother and person because of their witness and encouragement.

Dawkins also said that autistic people should not be aborted because they contribute to society. Reader, you may be thinking, Why are you even engaging in these ludicrous ideas?

Answer: Because they exist and people are perpetuating them. The current statistics say that 85 percent of fetuses (that is, an unborn human being living within its mother's womb) with Down syndrome are terminated in utero. That is beyond unbelievable. For all the uproar happening about the horrific killings in the Middle East with ISIS, we need to put on our consistency pants and stop being so self-centered that we would rather kill a child than "burden" ourselves by caring and love him or her.

The burden of special needs children is a unique one, countered purely by the outpouring of love for the individual child. Yes, financial sacrifices are made. If you know a family with severe special needs, I think giving them financial assistance would be a beautiful gift. For some disabilities, there is also state-funded help (which does not match/ often go as long as private, but it is a start). But we cannot put a number on a child if they are already alive.

Sitting in the waiting room today, before Grace's therapy appointment, I witnessed children of different needs and their parents or caretakers. The love of these children is so apparent, and because of their disabilities, the parents give more love. In the face of frustration, love. Every day, we must choose love. There is no other path: we teach our children by example, and how to be the best version of themselves, and how to be kind and patient with themselves. Love overcometh; love spilleth over.

The question has been asked, "Would you change your child's diagnosis if you could?" But how could I change that reality about my daughter? Any more than I could change her sandy hair with the little curls, or her bright blue eyes, or stubbornness.

How could I take away her witness to the world - her chance to overcome, and learn that goodness comes with the struggle. She may cry during our therapy sessions: her Dad and me trying to teach her to use her right hand, to crawl and scoot, and to use her right side as she does her left. I am fully aware of her limitations: but they are not forever. Even if she never gains full use of her right side, she has already progressed farther than where she was at a few months ago. She is continually amazing us.

One day, I look forward to her using both hands to drink from a cup, or read a book, or hold on to a swing. One day, I hope to watch her running strong and studying hard. Her physical limitations are temporary; we will teach her love, virtues, curiosity, and about our God.

A good friend of mine has a son with autism, and she talked to me a lot after Grace's diagnosis. She told me how Grace's new needs take me off the motherhood hamster wheel, and will continue to give me a new perspective on how amazing my daughter is. I will continue to push Grace, but I will also be more tender. I will not take her for granted: I will be grateful.

Do not ever feel sorry for GHB because she has cerebral palsy. It is part of her; it is not her. The range of cerebral palsy cases is similar to Downs syndrome and autism - there is not a one size fits all solution.

I hope, by writing about our journey with Grace and cerebral palsy, to change the attitude that children with special needs are a burden. I hope to show the way a child loves a parent can open a heart more fully, a heart this writer tries to keep protected, until it bleeds onto the keyboard and words are formed. I hope to stop the ignorance that special needs children are more work than they are worth - because their life will change your life, and for the better. They are a gift to all of us - and especially me!

**

A few of my favorite blogs to share...

• Sarah writes at WifeyTini about many things (language warning!), and quite hilariously so. She has a son, Henry, with spina bifida, and writes an awesome posts to "change the way we talk about disability in this culture":

I am not an expert on sociology, or language, or (least of all) people with special needs. All I know is that every day since we learned Henry would have spina bifida, we were conditioned to think the worst about his diagnosis. We were advised to terminate, by more than one person, seemingly because a life with spina bifida is so terrible that it’s better to not live it at all. Can you comprehend that? There is such a disconnect between the beautiful children I see who happen to have a disability, and the sorry, deformed, faceless nobodies that our culture makes them out to be. And the disconnect didn’t hit me — not really — until right after Henry was born. 

I was holding him, actually, when I got the phone call. It was a nurse from some county office, wanting to let us know that, because of Henry’s condition, we qualified for food stamps and other assistance (which we declined). 

“I’m calling,” she said, her voice dripping with sympathy, “because we hear you’ve had an adverse birth outcome.” 

What? I thought. He died? And then I realized she was talking about Henry. What the shit? I mean, he’s got some issues, sure. But adverse? A “birth outcome”? 

The thing about defining moments is that you don’t really realize they’re defining at the time. My response wasn’t one of righteous indignation. I didn’t deliver some Sorkin-esque speech. I said “Wow. Uh, no?” And then I laughed. Because it was ridiculous. I wasn’t mad, don’t get me wrong — I’m sure she was a very nice woman who was tasked with having a very uncomfortable conversation with a hormonal, post-partum stranger. I get that. But damn if what she said didn’t knock my socks off. So that’s how you see them, I realized. That’s how you see my baby.

Excerpted from her post "I smell an agenda..." You bet your balls you do.

• Mary at Passionate Perseverance makes me want to have a coffee date with her every single day (which I can, though her Instagram!). Her love for her daughter Courtney is bubbling from every post, even ones chronicling hard days, and her witness is inspiring:

After a little back and forth between him and the students explaining all the medical procedures that have been done on Miss Courtney, we opened the floor to questions. Oh the questions I got. Medical questions, family questions and psychological questions. Questions about faith, freedom of choice/assisted suicide and day in/day out care of our sweet girl. This little impromptu class took over 90 minutes and it was fascinating. There was laughter, tears and even a few "I'm sorry's" which I asked them not to say.   

I explained that saying "I am sorry" to me about what was happening wasn't necessary. There is nothing for anyone to be sorry about. Miss Courtney belongs to God, always has, always will. Jerry and I just get to borrow her for a little while. She is a living saint and part of her job is to be a witness to the faithfulness of Our Lord who is always be by our side. He has been right here with us from the very first moments of her life in the womb.

Excerpted from her post "little miss sunshine update... every day is a gift..." 

• Finally, Love That Max is a special needs blog about a boy named Max with cerebral palsy. His mom writes so eloquently about it:

So there's all the crappy stuff, and then there's the reality of Max. He is a really bright kid who's well aware of what's happening in this world (and who never lets his little sister put one over on him). He likes to learn, and picks up things quickly. The cp hasn't prevented him from walking or riding a bike. The cp hasn't prevented him from playing with trucks, coloring, downing ice-cream or doing all the other stuff little kids love to do. The cp has not affected his incredible determination, his spirit, his sunny disposition, his sense of humor, his fantastic attitude. Max doesn't yet know he has cerebral palsy. Someday, he will, but I'm not concerned it will change his perspective on who he is. 

If you don't have a child with disabilities, the cerebral palsy may seem like a tragedy to you. I'm here to say, it isn't. Do I wish he didn't have it? Of course I do. But do I wish that I didn't have a temper? Yes. Do I wish that Dave didn't have such trouble listening? Yeah. Do I wish that Sabrina was more patient? Yes. We all have our weaknesses, and while Max's may be more involved and more obvious, they're part of who he is. 

Cerebral palsy has not defined his life.

From her post "It's Cerebral Palsy Awareness Day and hello, world, my child is not a tragedy"

And these two posts on Downs syndrome: "Dear Richard Dawkins, You Are Wrong" and "A Different View: Three Years Later"

**

Happy [belated] 11 months, ma bebe! I am loving all your babbling; how vocal and definite your responses are to actions. You signal for "more" by slapping your left hand down, and you shake your head for "no."

Your smile is always the best part. You've started sitting up in your crib in the morning and after nap time, which also means you occasionally get your leg stuck between the bars (whoops!). You make me feel like the most special person in the world when we play together - you are so curious and fun! It makes my heart melt the way you get so excited upon seeing your Dad. You still love peekaboo, which is one of my favorite games too. I wish you'd let me hold/ finish reading the book during story times, but it is super cute the way you turn the pages yourself.

You love kisses and tickles, and I love giving them to you. You are ridiculously flexible. You love singing along to music, and are especially loud during mass (singing, you know, is praying twice!). I'm also glad you love walks, going on errands, car rides and snuggles, because we do that a lot together. You especially love when your Dad and I are both paying attention to you at the same time. You make every day a perfect treat.

We love you, Grace Harriet!