A Strange Anniversary

Today is an anniversary for our family. Something important happened 2 years ago, and I almost forgot. But I'm not upset about not remembering. Let me explain.

Two years ago today, we brought our youngest son home from the hospital after he spent 10 days in the NICU. He was born on June 17th and on the 19th we were discussing going home the next day. I was alone in the hospital with him because my husband was with our older son. I was trying to get up (I had a c-section) when the nurse noticed his diaper was dirty and asked me if she could change him. I said sure because I wanted to get in the chair so I could hold him. And then she said two words that changed everything: "That's bizarre."

I asked her what it was and she said, "There's blood in his diaper." I jumped out of that chair, totally forgetting about my incision (but I paid for in pain much later after the adrenaline wore off). She asked me if I had taken his temperature recently. No. He hadn't been circumcised yet. Confused, she told me she was going to take him to the nursery to have him checked and she whisked him away.

There I was, by myself, with no idea what was happening to my baby. I called my husband and tried to tell him what was going on but I was crying so hard I'm not really sure how much he understood. But he got the message that I needed him there ASAP.

When he got there, it was a blur of nurses, doctors, and paperwork. I remember they let me give him a kiss before they took him to the NICU. Beyond that, a lot of what happened is fuzzy for me.

They tested the blood to see if it was his or mine. He was born screaming so they wondered if he swallowed some of my blood. No, it was his. And the bleeding wouldn't stop. His platelets were low. He ended up needing a transfusion of platelets and then a few hours later, he got a whole blood transfusion. In total, he ended up with 5 IV lines: one in each hand, two in his belly button, and a pic line in his shoulder. He was under an oxygen tent because he couldn't stabilize his oxygen levels. The worse part was that we weren't allowed to touch him except for specific times.

Gradually he got better, but it was a fight and we all knew it. I went home without him and I cannot even describe how that feels. I pray none of you reading this ever have to go through something like that. We spent 2 nights caring for him in the hospital before he gained enough weight for us to take him home. Putting him in the car seat was the best moment we had during that time.

Anyway, my mom asked me the other day to send her the date we brought him home. And I couldn't remember; I had to look it up. At first, I felt bad for not remembering. How could I forget such an important day? But as I thought about it, I realized I forgot because it's not that important anymore. He just turned 2 and is in perfect health. He has not had any other health problems since, other than the occasional cold and ear infection (admittedly, he has had 2 sets of ear tubes and his adenoids removed, but everything went perfectly for those).

So do I feel bad for not remembering? A little, but not really. And you know what? That's ok.

We Really Are Crazy!

I had an epiphany last night. It was amazing! Let me set the scene for you. I was super tired because the last few nights have provided me with little sleep. Both boys have been difficult to put to bed and have fought sleep. I was barely awake enough to keep them entertained. By the time my husband got home from work (which was after 11) I had not gone through my usual evening ritual of doing dishes and sweeping. And I realized I had not eaten dinner. Lovely.

Anyway, I looked around the house and started thinking. Thinking about how I do the same thing every night. The floor gets dirty again, the dishes get dirty again, the boys fight me about something, on and on and on. My thoughts then gravitated toward disciplining the boys, which is also basically doing the same things over and over and over. Most parenting advice consists of being consistent, even when the discipline does not seem to be working because it can take time for children to learn and adjust. Consistency means doing the same thing over and over again, right? Well, what is the definition of insanity? Get where I'm going with this......

Insanity is sometimes defined as repeating the same action over and over and expecting a different result. Sounds a lot like consistency! As these thoughts swirled in my head, I suddenly realized that's why people always say parents are crazy! And to tell you the truth, I think a lot of us are. Now I do not mean that in a bad way, at all. But you really have to be in order to keep yourself from tearing your hair out and putting your clothes on backwards. Don't you think?

Let me give you a personal example. When my oldest son was about a year old, my husband and I went out to dinner. I don't remember where we were, but I remember he was old enough to have a sippy cup full of water (this comes back later in the story). We had gotten our food and were only a few bites into the meal, when my son promptly threw up. Later we realized he had too much water to drink and had gotten sick because of that. Anyway, when he got sick, he got some on my plate. My husband was working on getting him cleaned up and I was picking the food off my plate that had been thrown up on. In my defense, a good part of my plate was still fine and I was thinking I could save most of it. My husband looked at me and asked me what I was doing. There I was, picking vomit out of my plate trying to salvage my dinner (in my defense, I was pregnant with our youngest son and I was at the really hungry point of the pregnancy). Can you think of any other way to describe that than insanity?

It's OK

I was inspired to start this blog after I had a realization. A few months ago, I was talking with another mommy friend of mine. We were discussing the difficulties we had getting our children to go to bed. And she says, "I keep thinking, 'You need a spanking, kiddo!'" I have to be honest, I was shocked to hear that come from her. She is a wonderful, loving mommy and I thought I was the only mom who felt or thought that way. It suddenly hit me......

I AM NOT ALONE.

This may seem strange to come to this realization when I did, but it was liberating. I felt like I had someone in my camp. See, I have a type A personality and it is very hard for me to accept that I am not the perfect mama (hence the name of this blog). I remember being in the hospital, holding my oldest son and promising him I would never make him cry. Fast forward 3 and half years and it's safe to say I have broken that promise dozens of times over. And you know what? It's ok.

No matter what I do with my kids, there is someone out there that will not agree. And that's ok.

No matter what YOU do with your kids, there is someone out there that will not agree. And that's ok.

I read an article recently about ending mommy wars. It talked about mommies that have different opinions about how to raise kids and how we sometimes get feisty about what we believe in. And I think we all do. But every kid is different and every mama is different and guess what? That's ok.

So here's my first confession. We just moved from Missouri to Texas and my boys have adjusted pretty well. But recently, my oldest has started fighting us at bedtime. He just would NOT stay in his room and my husband and I were spending the better part of 90 minutes to get him to bed. And then my mom texted me to say, "Maybe he needs some extra cuddles." So for the last week or so, I have been lying with him until he falls asleep. The same thing happens at naptime with my younger son. He just will not stop doing flips off of his bed.

Do I worry about creating a bad habit? Of course. Do I worry that I am setting them up to never be able to sleep without me with them? Of course. Is that ridiculous? Of course. They are not going to call me in 20 years to ask me to tuck them into bed. But as I watched my oldest fall asleep tonight, I can't help but feel like it's the right thing to do for them right now.

Some of you will disagree with me and you know what? It's ok.