I have been thinking a lot about coveting, complaining, and suffering recently. It seems to be popping up in conversations, blog posts, and Facebook statuses (stati?) a lot these days. And as I began to unpack my own personal wants, complaints, trials, and "n't fair" moments, I realized that there might be a way to free myself from some of the frustration and guilt that comes from these feelings. It occurred to me that coveting something someone else has that I want and being upset because someone who seems to be better off is complaining both come from the same place--I have assessed my position relative to theirs and made a judgment.
Coveting begins by noticing that they have X and I don't and wondering how come they got it and I didn't. I have judged myself to be equally worthy, maybe better, and wonder why they have received received a blessing I did not. Similarly, when I get angry about someone else's complaining, it is generally because I have compared myself to them and judged that what they have is better than what I have, so they have no right to complain. I am well aware that none of these thoughts is terribly productive, but it hasn't stopped me from having them throughout my life. However, I think I've stumbled on a way to let some of them go--stop comparing myself and give myself permission to complain. My best examples of where this came into play for me is, surprise surprise, infertility and parenting.
People suffering with infertility often live in a black hole. All the joy in the world can get sucked down this hole and the world becomes a horrible place that doesn't make any sense and certainly isn't fair. When we see people get pregnant easily, we wonder how come we have to have it hard. When mothers who have already shown they cannot take care of children are given more, we are left to question whether anything makes sense. And when someone who is pregnant complains about morning sickness, we hear the snotty voice inside our head say, "You don't know how good you have it. I would kill to have morning sickness." But, here's the problem with that thought. Some who struggle with infertility do get pregnant. And, some of those folks end up suffering from hyperemesis. But now, we've backed ourselves into a corner. We've lost the right to acknowledge our own suffering. We can't complain because we got exactly what we asked for. And, worse, having been that woman, we know that if we complain, other people will judge us for it. We know we won the infertility lotto and now we have to walk this crazy line being ridiculously happy, acting as though there is nothing to complain about with pregnancy, and not being too happy lest we be seen as rubbing it in the noses of our fellow infertility strugglers who we know just want the opportunity to feel miserable, too. Our problem is that we shifted places on the continuum and our perspective is different from this view.
A similar struggle occurs with parenting. All kids are different. Some people get kids who are easy. Some people get kids who are hard. Some people get one kid at a time. Some people get four. And some of us get children with special needs. We once again find ourselves on a continuum, comparing ourselves with other parents and our children against other kids. We want to talk about our struggles with what is hard or be proud of our achievements, but we worry that others are saying in their head, or even out loud, "You think that's bad, my kid does x..." or "You're so lucky. I wish my kid would do y..."
And what I came to realize (remember?) is that everything in life is a continuum. In any given aspect--upbringing, education, employment, medical needs, wealth, whatever--there will always be someone who has it better than I do, and someone who has it worse. I can spend my time wondering why I got what I did and someone else has it better or worse, or I can acknowledge that we all live, suffer, rejoice, and experience life differently. By doing so, I give myself permission to acknowledge and seek comfort for my own suffering when it occurs.
This requires more work on my part, however, because I must do the same for others. Whenever I see someone who is suffering, whether I consider them better or worse off, I need to remember to be thankful for what I have, and try to provide them comfort. Because, when it comes time for me to seek comfort, I won't know where on the continuum the person to whom I am speaking has placed me. And, who knows, I could be wrong. My assessment of their place on the continuum may be way off. But, even if I'm right, it doesn't get me anything, whereas providing comfort to someone who is suffering, regardless of their station, makes a difference.
For me, it's not that I suffer more or less, or have more or less, than someone else. It's that what I have and experience is different, which makes comparisons useless. Comparisons work when things are roughly equal--apples to apples, and all that. But comparing ourselves to other people is like comparing cherries to cantaloupes; fish to carrots; or even muffins to shirts. We are often too dissimilar for the comparison to have any real meaning. And even if we find someone who's similar enough to call another apple, there are so many different kinds of apples, each with its own unique qualities. We don't demand that one apple be everything to all people. We don't tell the Granny Smith that it's inadequate because it's not a Gala. We use different apples to eat raw than we do to make pie or applesauce. And, from the apple's perspective, the Golden Delicious doesn't care that it's not a Honey Crisp.
I believe that God creates us differently because he has different needs. We have different experiences because we need to be molded differently to fit where He needs us. And, I think that He shakes His head and wonders why we spend so much time comparing ourselves to others when He worked so hard to make us all different in the first place. And I am reminded that God calls us to Him when we are suffering--"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28. He calls us all and promises to listen to our suffering and provide comfort without judgment. All of us. Those above and beneath. Us and them. It's time I start trying to do likewise.
6.27.2012
Already?!
As you know, we decided to do one last round of IVF in September. As it's still June (although just barely), September seems so very far away. Summer just started; September means school. That's forever away. Now, I would be lying to say I haven't been thinking about our last time--it consumes much of my free thought--whenever I actually have some, and I keep getting frustrated that I have to wait so long. But, this week brought me back to the now. Because, you see, I had forgotten something. Something that is both exciting and terrifying. In the world of IVF, it's already time to start gearing up! Ack! I'm not ready!
I spoke to one of the IVF coordinators this week about getting the meds ordered and they will be sending me my folder and consent forms within the next week or so. We're doing the long protocol again, so in roughly one month, at the end of July, we start the process. Granted, the first 21 days are more waiting, but we have to actively and accurately count those 21 days. On day 21 (roughly August 18), the shots start again. Holy cow! I am less than 2 months away from starting shots! And I haven't even thought about what to put in my feel better bucket this time! Breathe. *gasp* Breathe. *gasp* BREATHE! *pant pant* Okay. I'm okay.
Ten to fourteen days later (last time it was 12), we start the additional meds and begin what they call "procedure month," i.e. the 18-day countdown to transfer. Since they only do transfers Tuesday through Friday, we'll make sure that day 18 falls on one of those days before we start. That means we're looking at a transfer maybe September 14, but more likely September 19, 20, or 21. All of which means a June baby. June. It's June now! If we're successful, in less than a year I will have another child!
All of this is so crazy to contemplate. I am so excited (you can tell by the fact that I got to plan out all those numbers up there)! I'm also terrified. Although I am still absolutely certain that this will be our last round, it's bittersweet. It means we've reached the end of our journey in creating our family. All of the time, energy, and resources we have been utilizing to make decisions and plans and take care of all the medical stuff necessary to make it happen will be over. No more shots. No more calendars. No more agonizing decisions. I can have my surgery and we can work on settling in as a family of whatever size--3, 4, 5(?!). And whether that event occurs October with an unsuccessful try, sometime thereafter with a pregnancy loss, or next June with another baby, it's going to happen within the next year. It means change. It means loss. It means growth. It means time is moving on.
I know everyone always said that time moves so much faster as you get older and even more so once you have kids. I am discovering how true that really is. So, as I kick myself into overdrive, trying to lose that last bit of weight, planning things for my feel better bucket, and getting myself physically and mentally prepared, I want to also take a few extra minutes each day with Lil' Bit and enjoy her just as she is. Be amazed at who she is becoming. Because whether she's an only child or a big sister, change is coming, and it will be here soon. In fact, it's almost already here.
6.19.2012
Being an Advocate
As parents, one of our roles is to advocate for our children because they cannot yet advocate for themselves. I know I don't always do a great job advocating for myself, but in many ways it is easier to advocate for Lil' Bit. Parents often put their children's need before their own, which makes doing for a children what we can't, don't, or won't do for ourselves much easier. Although we have already had lots of experience with this particular lesson given Lil' Bit's condition, we recently got an extra dose as I dealt with healthcare stupidity once again.
As you may recall, Lil' Bit takes several medications for her condition. One of these medications is taken four times a day. A few months back, we received a letter from the company that provides our prescription coverage, we'll call them RxCo, indicating that they were reducing the amount of medication that was automatically authorized to a total of 90 pills per month. Basic math tells me that 4 times a day over 30 days is 120 pills. Therefore, I needed her doctor to call and get special authorization to keep getting Lil' Bit's meds. I contacted Dr. S's office and spoke with Nurse M, who asked me to send her the letter, which I did. She left me a message a few days later to let me know she had contacted RxCo and gotten everything taken care of and to call her if anything came up. The date for the change came and went and I heard nothing. Everything seemed to be running smoothly.
Jumping forwarda few months, it came time to reorder Lil' Bit's meds. I called RxCo's affiliated company, we'll call them AffCo, from whom we always reorder the meds. Everything was copacetic. They had active and current prescriptions, asked me how much we had left on hand, and scheduled delivery roughly 5 days before she would run out. The date the meds were supposed to arrive, they did not. We had a message from AffCo saying that her shipment had been "delayed" and to give them a call. So, I called. You can imagine my shock and horror as the woman on the line told me that they were waiting on an authorization for the meds. As far as I knew, this had been taken care of back in April. And more important, why the heck didn't they tell me this when I placed the reorder, rather than waiting until the day it was supposed to ship! She kept asking me if there had been a change in her dose and I said, no, she's taken the same dose since November. I indicated that I knew RxCo had changed its authorization plan, but that the doctor's office had already taken care of that. Well, she didn't know. She could only tell me that they didn't have what they needed to send the meds. There was no point arguing with her, so I asked
her again what they needed that they didn't have--a pre-authorization, she
said.
So, after hanging up with AffCo, I contacted Nurse M. She told me that both she and the doctors had contacted RxCo no fewer than 4 times and each time had been assured that it had everything it needed, but somehow the problem persisted. I told her I was being told that there was still no authorization for the meds and indicated that Lil' Bit was running out. She promised to call RxCo--again--to see what she could do. I texted Phil with our predicament and, having done all I could, proceeded to breakdown in tears of frustration. I felt like a failure. It was my job to make sure this didn't happen and I had failed. Yes, I knew there was nothing more I could do at that moment but wait. I even knew that there was nothing more I could have done to prevent it. I had, in fact, done everything in my power to prevent this very thing from happening, but it hadn't worked. None of this stopped me from feeling like a failure, however, and I struggled not to eat a gallon of ice cream to make myself feel better while I waited.
Soon thereafter, I got a call back from Nurse M. She had talked to someone at RxCo--had their name and number--and had been assured that the authorization was now processed. She gave me a number they had given her to have me call to call to see if the meds could be expedited now that the authorization was received. I immediately called the number. This is when my trip down the rabbit hole began in earnest. Let's refresh: the letter limiting medication authorization and to whom Nurse M had been required to speak was the primary company, RxCo. The company that actually processed Lil' Bit's orders and indicated that it did not have an authorization was the affiliated company AffCo. However, even within AffCo, I was required to deal with a specialty group for Lil' Bit's condition. We'll call it SpecGrp. So, Nurse M has just spoken with someone at RxCo and gotten authorization. She called me back and gave me a toll-free number for RxCo to call and see if they can expedite the meds. I called RxCo. I explained to the woman who answered why I was calling and she told me she couldn't help me and had to transfer me to AffCo. The woman at AffCo began to help me, but once I name Lil' Bit's medication, she told me she had to transfer me to SpecGrp. The SpecGrp woman then looked in the system and said they still had no authorization. I explained that Nurse M has just been assured that we had it. Well, she said, that's RxCo. Although they are "the same company," AffCo and RxCo use different systems, so they had to wait for it to show up in AffCo's system before they would process it, which may not be for a few hours. She would, however, "red-flag" it so that as soon as the authorization came in, it would be worked on right away. Nevertheless, because it was already 4:00 p.m. on a Friday, it would likely not go out until Monday. I asked her to also "flag" it to have someone call me on Monday if, for some reason, there was no authorization, so I could track down what was going on. She assured me that she would. Again, there was nothing left for me to do but wait.
Saturday brought a glimmer of hope. I received an automated call from RxCo indicating that they had received an authorization for the medication that was good for a year. Yay! I thought that maybe things were finally working. Sadly, they were not.
Monday rolled around and I heard nothing. Still, I was anxious because of how close we were to running out, so I wanted to just confirm that things were moving along to give myself peace of mind. I call AffCo's SpecGrp. I explained to the woman what had occurred on Friday and that I was simply trying to determine if the meds had shipped Friday or were on track to ship that day. She looked in her system and said that there was no authorization and I needed to talk to RxCo, but that she would transfer me. She transferred me to another woman. I explained my whole story, again, after which the woman, sounding quite confused, said that I was talking with AffCo. I explained to her why I thought I was talking with RxCo--because the previous woman told me she had transferred me there. This woman looked in her system and said she saw an authorization so she didn't know what the problem was. I said, well, the other lady said it wasn't there. The new woman put me on hold to contact the pre-authorization department and try and figure out what was going on. After about 5 minutes, she got back on the line. She apologized for the wait and was beginning to explain something when she suddenly said, "There it is!" Whatever she and pre-authorization had done had finally made the authorization show up in AffCo's system. She exited the system and went back in to double-check. The authorization was still there and the meds finally said they were "ready to ship." She then had to transfer me to the shipping people with SpecGrp so they could re-ask me all the questions they had already asked when I initially requested the reorder. When the woman asked how many pills I had left and I told her "10," she said, "So, you'll need this tomorrow then." It was not a question. [God bless her!] We got everything squared away and, magically, they arrived the next day from the shipper. Crisis averted! [I had told Phil that if Wednesday had rolled around and there were no meds, I was taking my child to the hospital and checking her in so she could get the meds she needed. That would have crimped the savings insurance was trying to reap for sure!]
I am amazingly grateful to Nurse M and the final two woman I spoke with at AffCo and SpecGrp who actually took the time to figure out what was going on and make things happen. But there were certainly many other people I dealt with who simply passed me off as someone else's problem. And how much worse would things have been if I had relied on the fact that I didn't get a call to mean that things were processing? This whole situation made me even more angry because I know that there are people who don't have the time or wherewithal to deal with all this garbage and probably get lost in the system and don't get their meds or whatever healthcare they need. I am more convinced than ever that we, as a society, do not value human life. If we did, we would not make access to healthcare so difficult. The fact that it's difficult even for those with insurance means that the system is broken. Don't try and tell me healthcare isn't already being rationed. I'm watching it happen.
I know my job is to advocate for my child, but the healthcare system should not be working against me. But I can neither fix it, nor bypass it. Lil' Bit's condition means that I must deal with it on a monthly, if no weekly, basis. I can, however, choose providers who will help fight the fight with me--like Dr. S and Nurse M. And I can spend all the time and energy I have until I get what I need for my child. And I will do it with every breath in my body. I may get angry and frustrated and cry. And I will do my best not to yell at those who have no control over what is going on. But, ultimately, you better get the heck out of my way, because I will get it done. I am Lil' Bit's advocate. It is my number one job. You have been warned.
So, after hanging up with AffCo, I contacted Nurse M. She told me that both she and the doctors had contacted RxCo no fewer than 4 times and each time had been assured that it had everything it needed, but somehow the problem persisted. I told her I was being told that there was still no authorization for the meds and indicated that Lil' Bit was running out. She promised to call RxCo--again--to see what she could do. I texted Phil with our predicament and, having done all I could, proceeded to breakdown in tears of frustration. I felt like a failure. It was my job to make sure this didn't happen and I had failed. Yes, I knew there was nothing more I could do at that moment but wait. I even knew that there was nothing more I could have done to prevent it. I had, in fact, done everything in my power to prevent this very thing from happening, but it hadn't worked. None of this stopped me from feeling like a failure, however, and I struggled not to eat a gallon of ice cream to make myself feel better while I waited.
Soon thereafter, I got a call back from Nurse M. She had talked to someone at RxCo--had their name and number--and had been assured that the authorization was now processed. She gave me a number they had given her to have me call to call to see if the meds could be expedited now that the authorization was received. I immediately called the number. This is when my trip down the rabbit hole began in earnest. Let's refresh: the letter limiting medication authorization and to whom Nurse M had been required to speak was the primary company, RxCo. The company that actually processed Lil' Bit's orders and indicated that it did not have an authorization was the affiliated company AffCo. However, even within AffCo, I was required to deal with a specialty group for Lil' Bit's condition. We'll call it SpecGrp. So, Nurse M has just spoken with someone at RxCo and gotten authorization. She called me back and gave me a toll-free number for RxCo to call and see if they can expedite the meds. I called RxCo. I explained to the woman who answered why I was calling and she told me she couldn't help me and had to transfer me to AffCo. The woman at AffCo began to help me, but once I name Lil' Bit's medication, she told me she had to transfer me to SpecGrp. The SpecGrp woman then looked in the system and said they still had no authorization. I explained that Nurse M has just been assured that we had it. Well, she said, that's RxCo. Although they are "the same company," AffCo and RxCo use different systems, so they had to wait for it to show up in AffCo's system before they would process it, which may not be for a few hours. She would, however, "red-flag" it so that as soon as the authorization came in, it would be worked on right away. Nevertheless, because it was already 4:00 p.m. on a Friday, it would likely not go out until Monday. I asked her to also "flag" it to have someone call me on Monday if, for some reason, there was no authorization, so I could track down what was going on. She assured me that she would. Again, there was nothing left for me to do but wait.
Saturday brought a glimmer of hope. I received an automated call from RxCo indicating that they had received an authorization for the medication that was good for a year. Yay! I thought that maybe things were finally working. Sadly, they were not.
Monday rolled around and I heard nothing. Still, I was anxious because of how close we were to running out, so I wanted to just confirm that things were moving along to give myself peace of mind. I call AffCo's SpecGrp. I explained to the woman what had occurred on Friday and that I was simply trying to determine if the meds had shipped Friday or were on track to ship that day. She looked in her system and said that there was no authorization and I needed to talk to RxCo, but that she would transfer me. She transferred me to another woman. I explained my whole story, again, after which the woman, sounding quite confused, said that I was talking with AffCo. I explained to her why I thought I was talking with RxCo--because the previous woman told me she had transferred me there. This woman looked in her system and said she saw an authorization so she didn't know what the problem was. I said, well, the other lady said it wasn't there. The new woman put me on hold to contact the pre-authorization department and try and figure out what was going on. After about 5 minutes, she got back on the line. She apologized for the wait and was beginning to explain something when she suddenly said, "There it is!" Whatever she and pre-authorization had done had finally made the authorization show up in AffCo's system. She exited the system and went back in to double-check. The authorization was still there and the meds finally said they were "ready to ship." She then had to transfer me to the shipping people with SpecGrp so they could re-ask me all the questions they had already asked when I initially requested the reorder. When the woman asked how many pills I had left and I told her "10," she said, "So, you'll need this tomorrow then." It was not a question. [God bless her!] We got everything squared away and, magically, they arrived the next day from the shipper. Crisis averted! [I had told Phil that if Wednesday had rolled around and there were no meds, I was taking my child to the hospital and checking her in so she could get the meds she needed. That would have crimped the savings insurance was trying to reap for sure!]
I am amazingly grateful to Nurse M and the final two woman I spoke with at AffCo and SpecGrp who actually took the time to figure out what was going on and make things happen. But there were certainly many other people I dealt with who simply passed me off as someone else's problem. And how much worse would things have been if I had relied on the fact that I didn't get a call to mean that things were processing? This whole situation made me even more angry because I know that there are people who don't have the time or wherewithal to deal with all this garbage and probably get lost in the system and don't get their meds or whatever healthcare they need. I am more convinced than ever that we, as a society, do not value human life. If we did, we would not make access to healthcare so difficult. The fact that it's difficult even for those with insurance means that the system is broken. Don't try and tell me healthcare isn't already being rationed. I'm watching it happen.
I know my job is to advocate for my child, but the healthcare system should not be working against me. But I can neither fix it, nor bypass it. Lil' Bit's condition means that I must deal with it on a monthly, if no weekly, basis. I can, however, choose providers who will help fight the fight with me--like Dr. S and Nurse M. And I can spend all the time and energy I have until I get what I need for my child. And I will do it with every breath in my body. I may get angry and frustrated and cry. And I will do my best not to yell at those who have no control over what is going on. But, ultimately, you better get the heck out of my way, because I will get it done. I am Lil' Bit's advocate. It is my number one job. You have been warned.
6.10.2012
Lessons From Chicago
We just returned from a quick trip to Chicago for Phil to do a wedding for a lovely couple. I attended the rehearsal, dinner, wedding, and reception. It was one of the loveliest events I have ever attended and the outdoor settings in Chicago were amazing. I can only imagine what wonderful pictures they are going to have. Just as the trip to Alaska taught me a few things, this trip also brought new epiphanies. So, here are a few of my lessons from Chicago:
1) If you are in a different locale where one of you has to be somewhere at a certain time, don't do anything stupid that might require a trip to the ER. This leads me to #2.
2) Always use a high chair. No matter how good your 18-month-old is at sitting in a chair, she will inevitably fall out. This is not necessarily a horrible thing, but if she falls off and hits her head on a radiator sitting roughly 3 inches off the floor, it's a problem. (When the people at the next table who work in sports medicine say you might want to get your kid checked out for a concussion, it's probably not a good sign).
3) When you need a trip to the ER in a strange city, make certain the cabbie knows that the children's hospital has moved. There's nothing like an hour long cab ride through the city, as the cabbie discovers the road to the children's hospital is closed and, upon finally arriving, being told that they are CLOSING FOR GOOD that day (indeed, within the hour) because they have moved to a new location. [Ironically, the new location was CLOSER to the hotel! But, I digress.] Fortunately, they were kind enough to admit us and we were likely their last patient. First, and hopefully last, time closing down an ER.
4) Lil' Bit has a hard head--just like me. As hard as she cracked that thing on the radiator and floor, she must have a skull of steel. She did not have a concussion and we all got back to the hotel in plenty of time to get ready for the wedding. Yay! Still, not something we ever want to repeat.
5) Given the right setting, I can be social with people I don't know. Usually, I am an extreme introvert with those I don't know, and an extrovert with those I know well. With these families, I felt instantly comfortable, even though I only knew the bride and her brother. Part of it was the presence of lots of other young children, at least 6 of whom were aged 9 months to 3 years. But more than that, I didn't feel like I was the the pastor's wife along for the ride, as I often do when I only know the bride or groom. I felt welcome. And with that feeling, came one of comfort that allowed me to converse with people and feel more comfortable than I might otherwise. I was certainly no extrovert, but I was much less introverted.
6) Given the right environment, Lil' Bit can stay up waaaay past her bedtime with few repercussions--although med times in the morning are slightly more difficult. Being in Chicago meant we were in a different time zone, so keeping her up until 8:30 p.m. Friday night was like 9:30 our time--3 hours past her bedtime! It was even later last night with the wedding reception, but she did great. We got her up at 5 (Chicago time) for her first med and then let her go back to bed for another hour before her second med. It worked out pretty well.
7) There is no logic to what children want. After a four-hour car ride, Lil' Bit was tired of being strapped into the car seat and she was not afraid to let us know about it. Upon arriving at home, I got her out of the car first thing and set her down in the kitchen while I tried to unpack the car. Ha! She was not in the house a whole 30 seconds before she was banging on the backdoor crying and begging to be strapped into the swing in the backyard. In all fairness, if I have to be strapped in, I'd rather be outside in the shade with the breeze in my hair, too. Still, not exactly what I figured her first move would be.
8) We are playing at a much higher level. Even with the ER visit and the cab rides and the staying up late and various other difficulties, we did not feel like the trip was "ruined." We had a great time at the wedding events, enjoyed our walk along the river, and made the most of our time. It was our first non-family out-of-town trip since Lil' Bit began her meds and it went surprisingly well.
9) There is always some adjustment. After sleeping in the same room with us for two nights and being rocked to sleep both of those nights, it was understandably difficult for Lil' Bit to be placed in her crib in her room by herself at regular time this evening. So, I went back in and held her until she fell asleep. That way, we still implemented the regularly scheduled bedtime and sleeping in her own space, but she still got snuggles. And, who am I kidding, I loved getting snuggled right back.
It's great to be home and to get back into the routine. But it was equally nice to discover that we are capable of taking trips even though Lil' Bit has special needs.
1) If you are in a different locale where one of you has to be somewhere at a certain time, don't do anything stupid that might require a trip to the ER. This leads me to #2.
2) Always use a high chair. No matter how good your 18-month-old is at sitting in a chair, she will inevitably fall out. This is not necessarily a horrible thing, but if she falls off and hits her head on a radiator sitting roughly 3 inches off the floor, it's a problem. (When the people at the next table who work in sports medicine say you might want to get your kid checked out for a concussion, it's probably not a good sign).
3) When you need a trip to the ER in a strange city, make certain the cabbie knows that the children's hospital has moved. There's nothing like an hour long cab ride through the city, as the cabbie discovers the road to the children's hospital is closed and, upon finally arriving, being told that they are CLOSING FOR GOOD that day (indeed, within the hour) because they have moved to a new location. [Ironically, the new location was CLOSER to the hotel! But, I digress.] Fortunately, they were kind enough to admit us and we were likely their last patient. First, and hopefully last, time closing down an ER.
4) Lil' Bit has a hard head--just like me. As hard as she cracked that thing on the radiator and floor, she must have a skull of steel. She did not have a concussion and we all got back to the hotel in plenty of time to get ready for the wedding. Yay! Still, not something we ever want to repeat.
5) Given the right setting, I can be social with people I don't know. Usually, I am an extreme introvert with those I don't know, and an extrovert with those I know well. With these families, I felt instantly comfortable, even though I only knew the bride and her brother. Part of it was the presence of lots of other young children, at least 6 of whom were aged 9 months to 3 years. But more than that, I didn't feel like I was the the pastor's wife along for the ride, as I often do when I only know the bride or groom. I felt welcome. And with that feeling, came one of comfort that allowed me to converse with people and feel more comfortable than I might otherwise. I was certainly no extrovert, but I was much less introverted.
6) Given the right environment, Lil' Bit can stay up waaaay past her bedtime with few repercussions--although med times in the morning are slightly more difficult. Being in Chicago meant we were in a different time zone, so keeping her up until 8:30 p.m. Friday night was like 9:30 our time--3 hours past her bedtime! It was even later last night with the wedding reception, but she did great. We got her up at 5 (Chicago time) for her first med and then let her go back to bed for another hour before her second med. It worked out pretty well.
7) There is no logic to what children want. After a four-hour car ride, Lil' Bit was tired of being strapped into the car seat and she was not afraid to let us know about it. Upon arriving at home, I got her out of the car first thing and set her down in the kitchen while I tried to unpack the car. Ha! She was not in the house a whole 30 seconds before she was banging on the backdoor crying and begging to be strapped into the swing in the backyard. In all fairness, if I have to be strapped in, I'd rather be outside in the shade with the breeze in my hair, too. Still, not exactly what I figured her first move would be.
8) We are playing at a much higher level. Even with the ER visit and the cab rides and the staying up late and various other difficulties, we did not feel like the trip was "ruined." We had a great time at the wedding events, enjoyed our walk along the river, and made the most of our time. It was our first non-family out-of-town trip since Lil' Bit began her meds and it went surprisingly well.
9) There is always some adjustment. After sleeping in the same room with us for two nights and being rocked to sleep both of those nights, it was understandably difficult for Lil' Bit to be placed in her crib in her room by herself at regular time this evening. So, I went back in and held her until she fell asleep. That way, we still implemented the regularly scheduled bedtime and sleeping in her own space, but she still got snuggles. And, who am I kidding, I loved getting snuggled right back.
It's great to be home and to get back into the routine. But it was equally nice to discover that we are capable of taking trips even though Lil' Bit has special needs.
6.07.2012
Making Space
Today, I would have been 20 weeks pregnant. I would have been half done. We would have been having an ultrasound and finding out if it was a boy or girl. Instead, I am working to lose weight and get myself ready for our one last try. One last try, the results of which we will receive around what would have been Oliver's due date. Is it serendipity, coincidence, irony, or just twisted? To me, it seems somehow crazy and right at the same time. Like that day was always going to be important for us. I am curious to know what the day will hold for us now. Finality, certainly, regardless of outcome. But will it be an affirmation of life, more disappointment, some of both? All I can do is wait. Wait and feel. Scared. Hopeful. Excited. Anxious. Impatient. Frustrated. Sad. And I'm giving myself some space. Space to remember the joy I felt when we found out I was pregnant. Space to remember the loss. Space to think about what might have been. Space to hope about what still might be. Space to send love to my angel baby. Space to be gentle with myself while I continue to heal. Space for feelings. Space for memories. Space for growth. Space for me. And maybe, hopefully, space for someone new in the coming months.
6.05.2012
Self-Worth, Advertising, and the Mommy Wars
I have been thinking a lot since I wrote my last post about how we became a society full of people who don't value themselves. What I decided was that it has likely been created, in no small part, by advertising and the media. Advertisers have long used psychological concepts to turn us into good consumers. The problem is, good consumers from a company's perspective, are those who buy a product regardless of whether they need it. Therefore, their job is to convince us that we need whatever they are selling. And, the simplest way to do that, is to make us feel inadequate without it:
If you don't drink our beer or drive our car, you won't get women.
If you don't use this make-up, you'll look old and wrinkley and who would want you then.
If you don't buy this toy, you aren't really having fun and all your other friends will wonder why you don't have it.
If you don't use the superfast phone network, you don't care enough about making the most of your time.
If you don't use this diaper, you don't care enough about your child.
Even the commercials that manage to stick to a simple message of "we're the best product on the market based on thus and such research" are problematic because they include the (subtle or not so subtle) unspoken message that, if you are using another product, it is inferior and you are stupid for doing so. After all, they have science on their side.
But these messages of being unworthy or not measuring up come in forms other than advertising. Nowhere is this more visible than the "Mommy Wars." For the uninitiated, the "Mommy Wars" result from a perceived dichotomy of moms. It caricatures mothers into one of two categories, both of whom tend to brand themselves as carrying the torch of feminism. Group one is defined as: stay-at-home, attachment parenting, breastfeeding advocate, co-sleeping, home birthing, "granola" moms. Group two is defined as: moms who work outside the home, formula feeders, separate sleepers, elective c-sections, and those who refuse to make time in their schedules to actually raise their children. The truth is, most women do not fall entirely within either category. But, even those who attempt to bridge the gap end up being criticized.
Although the Mommy Wars are usually simmering beneath the surface, they exploded full force into mainstream media with Time Magazine's cover of a mother breastfeeding her toddler and asking "Are you mom enough?" At least one popular blogger suggested that we should not give in to the blatant attempt by Time to reignite the war. But we can't help ourselves. Because, ultimately, the truth behind why the Time magazine cover caused such controversy, the feelings behind the mommy wars, and why advertising works is the same. We need to be right and, in our society, there is only one right way to do anything. Our job is to figure it out and do it. Otherwise, we are failures or slackers.
Our self-worth comes from knowing we are right. Shades of gray mean we can't find our place and, therefore, can't estimate our self-worth. Accordingly, we create a false dichotomy of black and white and constantly compare what we are doing with everyone else to make sure we're still adequate. If someone suggests that breastfeeding is best for children, they must automatically be trying to make those who formula feed feel inadequate. If a mother suggests that going to work makes her a better parent, she must be slamming stay-at-home moms. We have lost nuance. We have lost dialogue. We just shout at one another without listening and, in doing so, continue to feed the beast of inadequacy. After all, if you are right, then anyone making an alternative choice must, therefore, be wrong.
Here's my belief about parenting: there are a multitude of ways to do it right, and a multitude of ways to do it wrong. We all want what is best for our children; few parents intend to do their children harm. Every parent's circumstances are different and every child is different. What works for one child, may not work with another, even within the same family unit. The point of the information age is to make it accessible to people so that they can read it, digest it, and make the best, most informed choices they can for themselves. And we have to support parents in the choices they make, even if they are not the choices we would make. Thus, the choice to have a hospital birth does not automatically mean you don't support home-birthing and doulas. Having an epidural or a c-section does not make you any less of a mother. Regardless of whether you co-sleep with your child or let them "cry it out," you are performing an experiment. Indeed, all life is an experiment. How do you figure out how to parent your child? Trial and error. But none of this makes us inadequate or stupid. It simply makes us human. And our choices are just that--ours. Different does not equal wrong and I would prefer to spend my energy figuring out ways to make all children feel valued and supported rather than tearing each other down for the choices we make as parents.
So, in case no one has told you recently: You are mom enough. You are dad enough. You are enough. So long as you love your children and you are making the best decision you know how, you are doing a great job regardless of whether your parenting looks anything like mine. And I support you in it.
If you don't drink our beer or drive our car, you won't get women.
If you don't use this make-up, you'll look old and wrinkley and who would want you then.
If you don't buy this toy, you aren't really having fun and all your other friends will wonder why you don't have it.
If you don't use the superfast phone network, you don't care enough about making the most of your time.
If you don't use this diaper, you don't care enough about your child.
Even the commercials that manage to stick to a simple message of "we're the best product on the market based on thus and such research" are problematic because they include the (subtle or not so subtle) unspoken message that, if you are using another product, it is inferior and you are stupid for doing so. After all, they have science on their side.
But these messages of being unworthy or not measuring up come in forms other than advertising. Nowhere is this more visible than the "Mommy Wars." For the uninitiated, the "Mommy Wars" result from a perceived dichotomy of moms. It caricatures mothers into one of two categories, both of whom tend to brand themselves as carrying the torch of feminism. Group one is defined as: stay-at-home, attachment parenting, breastfeeding advocate, co-sleeping, home birthing, "granola" moms. Group two is defined as: moms who work outside the home, formula feeders, separate sleepers, elective c-sections, and those who refuse to make time in their schedules to actually raise their children. The truth is, most women do not fall entirely within either category. But, even those who attempt to bridge the gap end up being criticized.
Although the Mommy Wars are usually simmering beneath the surface, they exploded full force into mainstream media with Time Magazine's cover of a mother breastfeeding her toddler and asking "Are you mom enough?" At least one popular blogger suggested that we should not give in to the blatant attempt by Time to reignite the war. But we can't help ourselves. Because, ultimately, the truth behind why the Time magazine cover caused such controversy, the feelings behind the mommy wars, and why advertising works is the same. We need to be right and, in our society, there is only one right way to do anything. Our job is to figure it out and do it. Otherwise, we are failures or slackers.
Our self-worth comes from knowing we are right. Shades of gray mean we can't find our place and, therefore, can't estimate our self-worth. Accordingly, we create a false dichotomy of black and white and constantly compare what we are doing with everyone else to make sure we're still adequate. If someone suggests that breastfeeding is best for children, they must automatically be trying to make those who formula feed feel inadequate. If a mother suggests that going to work makes her a better parent, she must be slamming stay-at-home moms. We have lost nuance. We have lost dialogue. We just shout at one another without listening and, in doing so, continue to feed the beast of inadequacy. After all, if you are right, then anyone making an alternative choice must, therefore, be wrong.
Here's my belief about parenting: there are a multitude of ways to do it right, and a multitude of ways to do it wrong. We all want what is best for our children; few parents intend to do their children harm. Every parent's circumstances are different and every child is different. What works for one child, may not work with another, even within the same family unit. The point of the information age is to make it accessible to people so that they can read it, digest it, and make the best, most informed choices they can for themselves. And we have to support parents in the choices they make, even if they are not the choices we would make. Thus, the choice to have a hospital birth does not automatically mean you don't support home-birthing and doulas. Having an epidural or a c-section does not make you any less of a mother. Regardless of whether you co-sleep with your child or let them "cry it out," you are performing an experiment. Indeed, all life is an experiment. How do you figure out how to parent your child? Trial and error. But none of this makes us inadequate or stupid. It simply makes us human. And our choices are just that--ours. Different does not equal wrong and I would prefer to spend my energy figuring out ways to make all children feel valued and supported rather than tearing each other down for the choices we make as parents.
So, in case no one has told you recently: You are mom enough. You are dad enough. You are enough. So long as you love your children and you are making the best decision you know how, you are doing a great job regardless of whether your parenting looks anything like mine. And I support you in it.
6.02.2012
Bullying
As the news continues to be filled with stories of children who kill themselves or others because they are being bullied, I worry about how to raise Lil' Bit to have enough self-esteem to survive these behaviors and to be open enough to tell me if things are going wrong. Too often, the parents indicate that they didn't know anything was wrong. More tragic is when parents have gotten involved and schools have done nothing to stop the behavior. That leaves it to us parents to make our kids tough enough to withstand any such bullying, without teaching them to resort to violence. In our culture, easier said than done. Why, for goodness sake, do we live in a society where cutting other people down in order to feel better about ourselves is socially acceptable?
All of these stories also force me to deal with my own experiences with childhood bullying. I got by with help from my friends and a few special teachers, but it wasn't easy--particularly when people I had thought were my friends were working behind my back, making things worse. Being the subject of false rumors and having teachers believe them made for awkward classes. I occasionally thought of killing myself, although I was probably too chicken to ever really do it. But, I did reach the point where I was self-mutilating by scratching my arms with my fingernails until they bled. I hated how other kids could make me feel. I didn't need to be popular, but I would have preferred not being a pariah. I can only imagine how much worse those experiences would have been if we had had Facebook, Twitter, or cell phones with cameras back then. I hate that, even now, I will still occasionally question my self-worth based on things that happened then. I have done so much, accomplished so much, have friends and family who would move the world for me, but under the right conditions, in a few seconds, I can be reduced to a puddle of insecurity.
Whether we're hardwired this way, or simply conditioned by society, it seems as though we believe negative things much more easily. If we viewed ourselves from the outside, as a product being reviewed on Amazon, and there were 400 5-star reviews, numerous 4-star reviews, and 7 1-star reviews, we would probably think that this was a stellar product. Why is it, then, that we internally believe the 7 1-star reviews? Why is it so much easier to see how crazy it is when smart people think they are dumb and beautiful people think they are ugly if it is someone other than ourselves? But, more importantly, how do we change it? And how do I equip my child not only to withstand any bullying to which she might be exposed, but also teach her to stand with those who are being bullied so that they don't feel alone?
I have no answers. But I have a theory on where to start--I can do my best to embody and model for Lil' Bit those behaviors, values, and characteristics I want her to have. I will do my best to support her, love her, and build her up to protect her from the harmful things people can say. But I still hold out hope that maybe, by the time she starts school, we, as a society, will have a better handle on how to stop this madness.
All of these stories also force me to deal with my own experiences with childhood bullying. I got by with help from my friends and a few special teachers, but it wasn't easy--particularly when people I had thought were my friends were working behind my back, making things worse. Being the subject of false rumors and having teachers believe them made for awkward classes. I occasionally thought of killing myself, although I was probably too chicken to ever really do it. But, I did reach the point where I was self-mutilating by scratching my arms with my fingernails until they bled. I hated how other kids could make me feel. I didn't need to be popular, but I would have preferred not being a pariah. I can only imagine how much worse those experiences would have been if we had had Facebook, Twitter, or cell phones with cameras back then. I hate that, even now, I will still occasionally question my self-worth based on things that happened then. I have done so much, accomplished so much, have friends and family who would move the world for me, but under the right conditions, in a few seconds, I can be reduced to a puddle of insecurity.
Whether we're hardwired this way, or simply conditioned by society, it seems as though we believe negative things much more easily. If we viewed ourselves from the outside, as a product being reviewed on Amazon, and there were 400 5-star reviews, numerous 4-star reviews, and 7 1-star reviews, we would probably think that this was a stellar product. Why is it, then, that we internally believe the 7 1-star reviews? Why is it so much easier to see how crazy it is when smart people think they are dumb and beautiful people think they are ugly if it is someone other than ourselves? But, more importantly, how do we change it? And how do I equip my child not only to withstand any bullying to which she might be exposed, but also teach her to stand with those who are being bullied so that they don't feel alone?
I have no answers. But I have a theory on where to start--I can do my best to embody and model for Lil' Bit those behaviors, values, and characteristics I want her to have. I will do my best to support her, love her, and build her up to protect her from the harmful things people can say. But I still hold out hope that maybe, by the time she starts school, we, as a society, will have a better handle on how to stop this madness.
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