A Day in the Baldwin House

Chandler graciously invited me to share my day; here's to the challenge! 

My name is Julie Baldwin. I am a part-time online United States history teacher who is still on summer break/ maternity leave for a few more weeks. My husband is an emergency medicine resident, which adds variety to our schedule. We have three children under 3 years old, going on four years of marriage, and living far away from our respective home bases. For better and for could-do-better, no day is the same...

Friday - Casa Baldwin - PA, USA

At some point in the morning, I wake up to feed Stephen (3 months). It is still dark out. I peer into his face and his eyes are open. He's hungry! I grab my phone and text my husband Will, who is working overnight in the surgical ICU. He's typing up notes before rounds. Stephen falls back asleep and I plop him into the rock 'n sleep one more time...

The light wakes me soon enough... I fight the urge to ignore reality. I am content to stare at this little pudding pie drowsily.

7-8 a.m.: Get Grace (3) and Laura (1.5) up from their cribs; they are wide awake and done relaxing once I enter their room. I'm lucky they've learned how to stay put/ not scream before 7 a.m. I change diapers, feed Stephen again while the girls run around and play upstairs, test my fertility + chart, take my PPD medicine and move the party downstairs for breakfast.

8-10 a.m.: Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday are therapy days for my daughter Grace, but this morning, we are relaxing and waiting for Will to come home from the hospital. Breakfast varies based on time and willingness to exert effort. The girls are enjoying half a breakfast burrito each, a banana, milk and raisins. We read the morning prayers and Scripture from my August issue of the Magnificat.

After breakfast, we play inside in the front room and outside on the porch. Grace is very into coloring; I also stretch her limbs out. Laura likes reading, sliding, and building with + dumping her blocks. We hear the “choo choo train!!!!!”. I am listening to The Fellowship of the Ring while working in the other rooms.

I'll clean up the kitchen, eat my oatmeal and focus on drinking my coffee. Few things more important than my coffee intake at this point [in my mind].

Will comes home early before we leave for our appointment, and is immediately greeted by his girls with hugs around the legs. I go high for a kiss and a hug, after which he says he got no sleep and is headed straight to bed. This month is really tough on all of us. I go back to cleaning my desk off and preparing for us to leave the house.

Breakfast: maple cinnamon steel oats in the crockpot, coffee, milk, bananas, breakfast burritos,

10-11:30 a.m.: Today, we actually went to the chiropractor for the first time! I was nervous... but no need. The only thing I had to fear was the insane amount of paperwork needed (times two). Grace has cerebral palsy, which mainly affects the right side of her body. She has been complaining of knee pain, and I am hoping this will help.

The doctor immediately identifies problem areas and was really fantastic with her. I am duly impressed. I was even more impressed at how calm we both remained while 2/3 of my children cried as my appointment started. Grace subsided when the doctor asked her to hold my hand; he meant it for her, but it really did help me as well. Mothering + desk job means more chiro appointments in our future. I thought he was killing me with the number of cracks I heard in my neck, but a lot of tension is gone and there is less tingling in my arms.

I would almost say that this random appointment is normal for us too, since we are always dancing between different specialists - pediatrician, neurology, eye, OB/GYN and coming soon--ortho! This visit was delightful.

11:30-12:30 p.m.: Grace falls asleep in the car, so I put her down for an early nap. Laura stays up with me and we eat lunch. I feed Stephen again; put Laura down for a nap.

Lunch: chicken breast over spinach salad with tomatoes, feta and balsamic vinegar; Laura has mozzarella cheese stick, grapes, goldfish

I love this one-on-one time with my third wee tot! I have had so many interesting conversations with fellow moms about breastfeeding and my advice is always... Do you. For me, that usually involves a weird angle and not covering up in the cape style. I have a muslin blanket that is perfect for extra coverage and any sprayage (or spit up), but I won't totally cover up any more, as I felt compelled to do with Grace. Why? Because breastfeeding is normal. There is nothing gross about it; it's actually miraculous, when you look into it scientifically. It is not lewd (baby covers the nipple, people. That's the feeding part). If it makes you uncomfortable, look away. If you'd rather use a bottle or need to supplement, go for it. But there is no room for prudish behavior towards a mother feeding her baby because it is an absolute act of love. It is hard, it is a commitment and it is beautiful. Stephen is my third breastfed baby. I wanted to quit within the first month because it was so hard with him. But I stuck with it, and it's one of my favorite times of the day now - relaxing into the couch, feeding him and helping him achieve Hulk status.

12:30-3:30 p.m.: This is magical. Laura skipped her morning nap and since Grace fell asleep WAY before her normal nap time (between 2:30-3 p.m.), so I have the house to myself. I try to do my favorite postpartum work-out video; it's the effort, right? I decide to fold the three piles of laundry I washed yesterday while watching Elementary. After an episode, I work on school prep. (I start teaching online again in less than a month!) Then, I get super tired and I take a rest/ nap till someone wakes up.

3:30-4:30 p.m.: By someone, I mean Laura. This child! We play and I continue to clean up a bit. I wanted to fix zucchini bread, but it's still really hot and I cannot imagine turning the oven on right now. Stephen wants to be fed again... Not sure how many times a day I feed him, honestly, but it is way more than I am writing down.

Mini nap time for us post-feeding.

4:30-5:00 p.m.: Grace is awake and ready to play again; we practice walking down the steps while I hold her right hand. This is a big deal because a) she used to never let anyone hold her right hand, let alone trust anyone who did not also hold her left hand and b) she boycotted walking down the steps earlier this year and we are FINALLY returning to Grace being okay going down (and not just up). We think part of that is because of her eye surgery in July- we're hoping her depth perception improved.

5:00-6:00 p.m.: I start to plan dinner. It's Friday, and I try to serve meatless meals.  The kids color outside on the patio, which is closest to the kitchen.

Dinner: salmon (cooked in a foil packet), brown rice + quinoa, red peppers

6:00-7:00 p.m.: We eat out on the porch tonight. We've been having a lot of picnics lately, and it's just easier to clean up. Will wakes up at some point and comes downstairs. The girls are excited! They climb all over him and forget about dinner.

7:00-8:00 p.m.: More playtime, but we've moved the girls upstairs for a bath. They love it, and they love splashing Will. Jammies, teeth brushed, books read and prayers said.

8:00 p.m.: BEDTIME BABIES. NIGHT NIGHT.

8:00-9:30 p.m.: Oh yeah. Stephen is still awake. Will and I discuss possibilities for the evening. We clean together, and then he goes upstairs to his computer. Stephen helps me fix a quiche.

Quiche: pie crust, cooked sausage, eggs, heavy cream, milk, shredded cheddar cheese - cook at 400 Fahrenheit for 40 minutes

We do more cleaning. (No, really, when does it stop??) I feed Stephen again and relax into the couch.

9:30-11 p.m.: I take my vitamins and melatonin. Will comes down and we watch two episodes of The Wire, season two - really excellent. Gritty; superb in every respect - acting, story lines, writing, production. For those who have not heard of it, it's considered one of, if not the best television drama ever. (Available through Amazon Prime video!)

11 p.m.-12 a.m.: I try to get to bed before midnight every night. It's my work in progress, as a night owl. I am always trying for 11 p.m. but 11:30 is my current record. Will changes Stephen's diaper, and I feed him again, if necessary. I get ready for bed, we talk about what Will should study (pulmonary something was the verdict) and other related topics, and we say night prayers. Will goes up to his office for the night, so his body will stay adjusted for his next night shift. I settle in for the night/ until Stephen wakes again for another eat. Sweet dreams!

. . .

Read more:

A Day in the Armstrong House
A Day in the Fink House
A Day in the Howard House
A Day in the Smith House 

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In Defense of Self-Soothing

Imagine a scene of three children and a mother is reading them the charming "Big Red Barn" book before bed. It's quiet in your scene, I'm sure. Meanwhile, in my reality, Stephen is crying his face off instead of eating. Laura is helping me turn the pages and Grace is reading her own book.

A few months ago (about three, to be exact), if this would happen, my anxiety would SAIL sky high. My postpartum depression did not manifest itself in sadness, but irritability and anger. That kind of crying would send my nerves into overstimulation and I'd shut down and have to leave the room.

Will and I are focusing on my coping mechanisms: food prep, cooking, exercise, sleep, and letting chaos reign. It's okay. Even when it's not.

I remember a friend who, a few years ago, was deeply depressed; but, as a nursing student, she refused to go on medication because she knew it changed her body's chemistry. But she was miserable.

I can empathize to a certain point. Will and I talked about a timeline for me to go off my PPD medication as well, and I talked to my OB and PA about it as well. I can feel the difference. I can remain calm in the face of my son screaming even though his diaper was changed, he was fed, and he was being held. Sometimes, the baby is going to cry. Sometimes, the baby is going to self-soothe, and fall asleep via crying. Stephen just did. It seems magical now to hear his little snores. He was just *so* tired.

Haven't you ever felt like a baby? So tired you just want to scream and cry and eat ice cream and sleep at the same time? It's okay. I ate brownies for dinner tonight, and now that the kids are down, I'll go eat a second course of pork, rice and salad. Some days, ya know? Gotta eat backwards dinner. Gotta be alone and not talk to anyone and relish that.

It's been a long day, as well as the end of Will's "staycation" (he had a few days off of SICU in a row, which made this month bearable). I'm working on school prep and wondering if a calm normal exists, or if life is a giant exercise in self-soothing and juggling. I'm guessing the latter. It has never slowed down in my 28 years alive, and - if anything! - kids speed up the process. They also help you appreciate the more important things, like being together, laughing and having fun, and loving one another.

Then again, God gave us toddlers to take everyone's pride down a few notches. Toddlers don't give a damn about anything. They will ignore you and dump all their blocks out and look you in the eye while throwing their dinner on the floor. It's amazing. I am no longer crying over dinners [I spent time researching, preparing and serving] being ignored and thrown on the floor since instituting "toddler tapas" and "picnics" to the schedule.

How do you self-soothe? What makes you tick?

I hope you all are well, dear readers. I hope you take time to self-soothe, and time to re-connect. I hope you don't worry about other people's perception of you, and that you love what makes you tick.

I'm off to eat dinner, watch an episode of Elementary, and maybe fix zucchini bread since the air is cooler now. I wish you good eats and many reminders of what a treat life is, truly, for each of us.

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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!

Yes You Can, Fellow Human

At the end of May, we passed the two year anniversary of Grace's diagnosis. Last Tuesday, Grace had eye surgery. Today, I made two more appointments with specialists after two therapies. I'm going to be the first to admit that keeping up with Grace needs a lot of planning and coffee. She's doing awesome overall, and of course, needs some tweaking too with all the growing up. (That's where the specialists come in, for the fine tuning.)

A few hours post-op

Grace is constantly changing. Every week in therapy, I have something new to discuss with her six therapists. Her language is exploding - this is especially exciting since her stroke was in a language center, and we didn't know how she'd be affected or what the symptoms would be. Speech therapy is an amazing resource. On Wednesday, we have a transition meeting where she'll be evaluated for what her state-provided therapies will be once she turns 3 years old. It's exciting and nerve-wracking.

I was talking to my best friend about Grace, and we talked about Grace's diagnosis. It's part of her, but it's a complicated relationship. Most days I'm fine; other days, I feel overwhelmed. I try to avoid talking about future Grace - there's too many unknowns. I remember being in an appointment with the neurologist, and she told me Grace would never use her right hand normally. I was really taken aback - for me, as long as we did the therapies, Grace would get better, right? Well, the hand is a complex blah blah blah. One of her occupational therapists provided a more optimistic viewpoint, with the consideration that we just don't know. I find a lot of comfort in not knowing. It's the reason I try harder every day. Every day, you see, is a glimpse of the ultimate triumph. God has given me this little girl to cherish, love and teach.

Motherhood is a very emotional journey. When I write, I only write of my own experiences. I cannot testify to anything else. There are a few very distinct memories from Grace's first year which I carry with me: when they first handed her to me; when they first woke me up to feed her and I was still deliriously tired from labor; looking at her MRI scan. No one can love Grace more than me, and I take that responsibility very seriously. It helps me keep my patience; it helps me apologize when I don't; and it lets me indulge her a little more than others would. The same goes for Laura and Stephen. Sometimes just holding them feels like our moment in eternity.

Grace isn't neuro-typical, like her two siblings. And that's okay. Everyone has trials in life. Grace's trials will be many, and she has an amazing support system on both sides of the family, as well as friends, therapists and doctors who love her. That alone can sustain a person.

So can possibility...

{chills, right?!}

I dwell in Possibility —
A fairer House than Prose —
More numerous of Windows —
Superior — for Doors —

Of Chambers as the Cedars —
Impregnable of Eye —
And for an Everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky —

Of Visitors — the fairest —
For Occupation — This —
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise —

by Emily Dickinson 

Grace has limits physically. We're working on those. A good attitude and perseverance is the best asset in life. A life centered on Christ; a live given to others and served in love. These are the things the world needs. 

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Life is Pain, Highness.

Teaching is hard. Motherhood is hard. Residency life is hard.

How do you develop a shell while still remaining soft to the world? I'm still learning.

For as hard as intern year was (adjustment-wise), second year has been harder. Part of that has been the growing pains of our family. Part of that has been with our jobs. Part of that is the daily wear and tear of parenting + due diligence with therapy. The other part is laundry. WASH AND FOLD YOURSELF LAUNDRY.

I've had a few tough parent situations this school year - we just never saw eye to eye. I still don't quite understand why everything was perceived so singularly; I try really hard to be available and patient, so when something else happens... it hurts, a lot. I was crying on the couch when Will got home from another long shift. His last patient overdosed and was probably gone by the time the ambulance arrived. He ran a full code. Then, calling the family. There was a lot of grieving; doctors are not immune to that kind of pain, even if they seem unswayed. They have a job to do.

He told me I needed to close my computer, not reply, and move on. I did my job. My boss told me I was fine, so what was the point of re-hashing? Because I care, and I don't understand, and I love my job, and I love teaching my students, I cry. Will fills in the blanks: Do your job, learn from your mistakes, and move on - you're never going to make everyone happy.

The Man in Black said it best: "Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something." This doesn't mean we should relish our pain, or feel constant sorrow; but acknowledging it as reality, and pushing on, past the doubts and discouragements. Life is beautiful. I see it in Laura's cheesy grins, smelling fresh air, Grace calling out "mama!!" when I come downstairs, life with Will. Life is worth living. Not in spite of the pain, or even because of it, but with it, in communion. To know pain means to also know happiness, health, love and virtue.

As a Christian, especially one during this Lenten season, I can't help reflecting (begging God) and praying the Litany of Humility. 

**

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.

From the desire of being esteemed; deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being loved; deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being extolled; deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being honored; deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being praised; deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being preferred to others; deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being consulted; deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being approved; deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being humiliated; deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being despised; deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of suffering rebukes; deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being calumniated; deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being forgotten; deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being ridiculed; deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being wronged; deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being suspected; deliver me, Jesus.

That others may be loved more than I,

Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be esteemed more than I: Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it!

That, in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease: Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it!

That others may be chosen and I set aside: Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it!

That others may be praised and I unnoticed: Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it!

That others may be preferred to me in everything: Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it!

That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should: Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it!

How is the end of your Lent going? I'm looking forward to my last couple of classes, my in-laws arriving, finishing my grading, and spending part of spring break on vacation with my darling husband before Paschal Triduum with my in-laws and our daughters.

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Days 16 & 17: Failure

What is failure?

Laura is succeeding at pulling herself up on everything!

I've been thinking on this a lot. I am taking a philosophy class right now as part of my Masters (that I am attempting to get... slowly...) and the priest who is teaching the class told us how he failed his first philosophy class. Oh, how I loved hearing that!!

Don't worry - I am not failing the class. (A! For now!) But we Baldwins have had a lot of things pop up on our radar and when plans hit the pavement, my plans are the ones that (usually) get dashed.

To be fair, Will and I talked about this during our dating time/ engagement. Will's career path, at its beginning, would take priority. His path is pretty rigid and its requirements are high. During our marriage, we know this reality.

Being a writer, on the other hand, requires a lot of work with very little yield ($$). A lot of proposing articles, back and forth with editors, re-writes and then the blessed check comes in the mail, and a third of your groceries are paid for. Which is why I tend to do more unpaid work, because it's less pressure in that respect, so I can write more (for less) - but also less professional, so the double-edged sword continues.

Then there's my academic life, which is exciting, and slow. Family life makes it hard, when you're the one mostly caring for the babies. That being said, without Will, it would be nonexistent. Even last night, as I'm whining/ explaining to him over FaceTime about the list of Non-Negotiables that have to be completed this weekend, he reminded me that I am doing all this because I want to, and because I love it. I love learning, I love teaching, and I love writing and editing.

Deep breath. :)

 It's something I need to remind myself of as a mother as well. When I have to sneak into the room so Grace doesn't wake up, and rush to get Laura six times a night so she won't wake up Grace: it's exhausting. I wake up and cringe when I hear more crying, and it can be really frustrating. Especially being away from home - the girls are more clingy, which is hard when I need to get more work done.

Then I remember that I am not here on this earth to succeed. I am here to love.

I am here to love my husband by supporting him in his vocation (and listen to his awe-inspiring stories - he literally held a man's heart this week! During some kind of trauma resuscitation procedure). I am here to love my daughters and support them in all their endeavors. I love Grace as she throws another tantrum over food, and patiently go through all the options with her until we settle on an agreed upon food to eat. I love Laura while she's teething and support her in all her adventures... which sometimes means rescuing.

And I love myself, and I recognize that I have limits - lovely limits, and possible-to-climb mountains. I must love myself as God loves me, and forgive myself for my apparent (to me) failures.

Failure in this life, I think, can only be a failure to love.

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Day 10: Tapas for Two (Plus Two)

On Thursday (since we're driving all day today!), our little familia went out for a last supper since the girls and I will be gone for three weeks while Will finishes his Trauma shift. It's a brutal shift, and this way he can focus on his work and all the studying required of him, and I'll feel a little less like a single parent during the month of October.

We went to Tapas in downtown historical Bethlehem and it was delicious - mussels with fries, garlic shrimp and pork belly worth savoring in tiny bites. Fun drinks and two adorable girls to boot.

It's going to be hard to be away - I am quite attached to Will, but when his shifts are ridiculous, it's time to switch up the scenery. Plus, we won't be traveling home for any holidays near or far at this point. (Residency life!) Which is okay, too, because we're forming our own family traditions. So, back to the Midwest we go!

The girls were really excellent the entire time during dinner - only towards the end did Grace need to get out of her high chair and "feed" Will the rest of his dinner.

This was one of the first times we've taken both girls out to a nice restaurant, and we were not disappointed. Looking forward to many more family dates, and for the warm weather to return!

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Teaching Grace to Walk the Walk

Lately, we've been doing a lot of walking. Grace is a cruise master - she can walk along furniture and the wall to get where she needs go.

Here she is at the pediatrician's office a few days ago:

We're practicing walking on different kids of surfaces too - this was yesterday with her Dad. Please note the fabulous pink shoes with bows, a surprise mistake from Zappos!

At both her physical therapies this week, her therapists talked about how she is doing more advanced movements than first steps, but she is lacking the confidence. She does not need the balance, but she wants it. 

We found a nice park about a mile from our house, so the last two days we've been introducing Grace to the straight, bumpy and twisty slides; the monkey bars; the unsteady bridge; plenty of wood chips. She loves it, which makes us so happy.

Laura loves it too!

We're working a lot on walking... and it's just frustrating for all parties. As long as she feels comfortable, she does well. If she feels unsure (like walking on wood chips), she is much more stiff. This affects her gait. Here is a short video - we're really encouraging her to walk with minimal support:

Then again, if she doesn't want to walk, she won't. 

She wants to walk and move on her own... our hope is that she takes off on her own by the end of summer, or before her second birthday. It's tough to be in limbo. Don't misunderstand me  - we are over-the-moon for how much Grace has improved and how well she is moving: her therapists are beyond pleased. We're grateful that she's high functioning in this way. And sure, even after she's walking on her own, there will still be more to work on. A prescription was written for an AFO (ankle foot orthotics), so we'll get fitted after we get back from vacation next week.

As always, God provides and guides. Grace is flourishing, happy and overall responsive to therapy. Her normal movements are fluid and controlled, and she has does a deep plie!

The park was a total success, by the way. Mom and Dad got their walk in too!

I don't mind answering questions about Grace walking; I would prefer other questions, as well:

• How's Grace?
• Tell me about Grace's therapies!
• What does Grace like doing these days?

(And don't forget about Laura! Wink.)

If you're unsure what questions to ask, a safe bet is to ask about the child over asking about progress the child is making. If the child is plateauing, it can be a less desirable topic. If you're the parent/ loved one and you're feeling sensitive about your child, just be honest: "[My child] is working very hard in therapy right now; he/she is loving _____!" You do not owe anyone outside medical professionals the full story - but don't be afraid of the story either. It's yours too!

Grace is such a bright, spirited child. She loves and feels deeply: she loves shoes, dressing up, coloring, building blocks, dancing to music, and being sweet/ super close to Laura, as well as cuddling with her mom and dad.

It's going to be great when she does walk, but this is where we are now. Thanks for asking, y'all!

Stay tuned for more pictures of that fantastic neighborhood park; we are thrilled to find this treasure within walking distance! Such a nice borough we live in for now.

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Lent: More Than Just a Season of Temptation

by Marianne Robison
{originally posted at UC's Newman Center blog}

I cannot remember a time when Girl Scout cookies did not arrive during Lent. Sitting smugly in their brightly colored cardboard boxes they seemed to mock my Lenten sacrifice, which, for many years, was invariably “no sweets.” In those moments I would begrudge the necessary self-denial of the Lenten season as well as all of the temptations which would inevitably ensue. It had seemed so easy to give something that I liked up on Ash Wednesday, but as the weeks progressed my resolve weakened. Growing up I wasn’t entirely certain how my sacrifice primed me for Easter besides the fact that I would be good and ready to stuff my face with chocolate when the holiday arrived.

Sometime in the last few years I realized that something was lacking in my understanding and in my approach to Lent. After all, this season is considered the pinnacle of the Catholic calendar year. It is during this time that we ought not to feel burdened (i.e. by our self-denial); rather, we ought to feel liberated as we strip ourselves of those vices which bind us more closely to the material things of the world than to a spiritual relationship with our Father in Heaven.

For, truly, that is the purpose of the Lenten season: to grow in love and appreciation of God.

We have marked 40 days of our calendar year as different from all the rest, and this is because this period of time is filled with spiritual opportunities. First and foremost, we have the opportunity to renew our appreciation of the ultimate sacrifice of love the world has ever seen. As we let the incredible significance of Jesus’ conquest over death sink in, we have the opportunity to find a new perspective on our lives and on our relationships and to remind ourselves once again that love conquers all.

Ideally, the period of Lent should be treated as a kind of extended retreat as we strip ourselves of those worldly things which may ensnare and enslave us. That being said, I know as well as any college student (or adult for that matter) that time stops for no man and that our responsibilities and obligations will not be reduced during this time period. Our to-do lists will not spontaneously shrink so as to accommodate time dedicated to prayer, since prayer is an activity which requires a definitive allotment of time to focus your energies towards God.

Or is it?

Certainly, focused contemplative prayer is extraordinarily useful in developing a deeper, more intimate bond with God, but the commitment and mental dedication for such an activity can often be so intimidating as to prevent us from engaging with God at all. We may shy away from the activity unless we are in the right mood or mindset. However, as Blessed John Henry Newman once said, “[Faith] is not a mere temporary strong act or impetuous feeling of the mind... but it is a habit, a state of mind, lasting and consistent.” (Magnificat, February 2015)

To build our relationship with God, the first step is to recognize that He exists beyond the prayer space. Once we realize that God’s spirit permeates every nook and cranny of this earth, we will also realize that every space is sacred. If every space is sacred that would mean that no matter where we are we are prompted to sanctify our actions.

So, this brings me to the meat and potatoes of my advice to my dear readers approaching this Lenten season, and which is stated most eloquently in the words of Saint Paul in the second reading on Sunday: “Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God.” (1 Corinthians 10:31)

Life may be characterized by nonstop activity, and I say this both in the sense of working adults as well as in the sense of biology. Organisms constantly interact with one another and all of the little cells in our bodies are constantly influencing each other simply because they exist together. It is in this ebb and flow of interaction that we can recognize the glory of God’s spirit as it prompts relationship between all of the elements of our world. The tiniest element of our world—an atom—moves aimlessly around until it bumps into another atom and then voila! The two become one in an entirely new molecule!

We humans are not so different from the rest of God’s creation as it is in our constant activity that we bond with others and grow as a result of our union. Granted, spiritual bonds are different things entirely from the kind of molecular bonds which I was talking about earlier, but the illustration is still useful. The point is that God created us all to be active creatures and our activity may therefore be blessed if it is done with a sense of appreciation and love for our creator.

I am here drawing upon the spiritual practices of Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection who “resolved to make the love of God the end of all his actions.” I would try to paraphrase some of his beautiful ideas, but he speaks far more eloquently than I can in his novel published posthumously and titled, The Practice of the Presence of God:

“Men invent means and methods of coming at God’s love, they learn rules and set up devices to remind them of that love... Is it not quicker and easier just to do our common business wholly for love of him?” 

“The time of business does not with me differ from the time of prayer, and in the noise and clatter of my kitchen, while several persons are at the same time calling for different things, I possess God in as great tranquility as if I were upon my knees at the Blessed Sacrament.” (Magnificat, February 2015)

It is up for us this Lent to open ourselves to encountering God both in the quiet stillness of our hearts as well as in the business of everyday life.

Marianne is my hilarious, holy and helpful second sister (the fourth of us six kids); she is a double major in biology and English, with a minor in Spanish because we can't convince her to triple major.

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!