Learning to Be Flexible With the Rules

I'm pretty much a rule person.  They keep the world tidy and orderly.  I believe in consequences for breaking rules, and I believe that we need to teach our children that there are consequences to their actions when the costs are small, rather than continuously bail them out and make their first experience of consequences come at a large cost.  I am also a pragmatist who also understands that pretty much every rule needs an exception because there will be circumstances that require it.

Parenting requires a fluidity and a balance between rules and exceptions.  Indeed, one of the reasons I said I wanted to be a parent was to learn flexibility and how to go with the flow.  Yes, the rule is generally "x," but because of "y," you can do/have "z" this one time.  There are times to hold fast to the rules, and times to bend (for some reason, I have Kenny Rogers' The Gambler running through my head), and parenting styles tend to dictate which rules we are more flexible with and under what circumstances.

Phil and I have been very lucky that we are pretty much on the same page about things.  We've been even luckier that the few times we have disagreed, it wasn't over anything big, and we still backed each other up in front of the child, and waited until later to discuss and reach consensus on whatever it was.  One thing which we agreed on before Mira was born was that she would sleep in her own room from the start.  And, except for when we were on vacation and there was only one room, we held pretty fast to that.  Even when she was in our room, we had her sleep in a separate pack-n-play.  We both held the line on this rule, with few exceptions.  Even so, there were some.  When she was scared on the cruise to Alaska, we let her sleep with us, and we all shared a bed for nap times during GenCon one year.

When I was pregnant with Patrick, we decided that it had been a pretty successful rule and planned to implement it with him as well.  In many ways, it was easier with him--no sleep training was necessary, as he was used to sleeping in his own bed away from us after a month in the hospital.  Moreover, he had too many tubes and wires to allow us to sleep with him even if we wanted to.  However, once we started being gone to Detroit for long periods of time, it was clear Mira needed reassurance, and we began to let her sleep with whichever parent was at home.  It was a rough time and making her feel safe was more important than holding the line.

When we brought Patrick home, we tried having her sleep in her own room, but she is scared of shadows and noises.  More than anything, though, she is scared she will wake up and we won't be there.  Scared of being taken away to live somewhere else.  Knowing the number of times she went to bed and I ended up taking Patrick to Detroit so she woke up to no mom or brother, and the multiple times she was taken by her grandparents for extended periods of time to Tennessee, these are not really irrational fears on her part.  So, we have allowed her to continue sleeping with us.

It's been difficult, to be sure, but there are some lovely moments--when she rolls over, drapes her arm over my shoulder, and says, "I love you, mommy," or when she scratches my back or smooths my hair with her hands in a soothing motion.  There are heartbreaking moments, too--when she wakes up crying because I am not there (I have been sleeping in the guest room so I don't get kicked in the stomach by her while I am recovering).  Each night, we let her choose where she wants to sleep--her room, our room with daddy, or the guest room with mommy.  Last night, she picked sleeping in the guest room with me.  I could tell she really missed me because she ended up putting a blanket over her face so she could not see the shadows made by the headlights of passing cars; she was willing to brave shadows to stay with me!

And then, there are the moments when I know I can't force her back to her room.  When she reaches out, multiple times, every night, to make sure I am still there.  If I have gotten up to go to the restroom, she wakes up to figure out where I am.  Once, she went walking through the house in the dark to find me and, when she did, she climbed up in bed and snuggled in next to me.  When Phil woke up and she wasn't there, he went on a search and found her snuggled up with me.  I love that she loves me, and wants me near, but it breaks my heart that she feels so scared, and her world feels so unstable to her.

In October, we had talked with her about having her start sleeping in her room every other night in November, and she was really excited about the plan--until it was time for the first night away.  Then it wasn't fun; it was scary.  Phil and I talked and we agreed that we would rather her feel safe and secure than rush her back to her room and potentially make things worse.  After all, it's only been since April that we've been allowing this.  Even if it lasts six more months, one year--even two--isn't long in the scheme of things.  We would much rather figure out how to make her feel secure enough to go back to her room willingly than force her to go back there now.  The world is scary enough when you are three--it's even scarier when your parents disappear at what seems like random, and your brother comes and goes and then is gone forever.  I can't even imagine.

So we bent.  Our firm "no co-sleeping" rule had to adapt, because, when we made it, we never anticipated the current circumstances.  None of this is to say that there are no more rules.  There are still rules, expectations, and consequences.  She figured out pretty quickly that people would treat her differently and let her get away with things if she said, "I'm sad because my brother died."  She discovered the words were a magical incantation that, once uttered, changed how the world worked.  We reigned that in pretty quickly (we think), and she is doing amazingly well for all she has been through, particularly given her age.  But things like this remind me that good parenting is a moving target.  There is no one single set of rules; no one perfect way that everyone should do it.  We learn; things change; we adapt.  It drives my type-A, OCD brain crazy, but I am learning when to be flexible, in hopes that it will keep me from breaking.

Holding the Line

Today was Lil' Bit's return to daycare after being gone to her relatives in Tennessee for a month.  Last night, she was quite excited to return.  This morning, not so much.  When I asked her what she wanted to wear, she sat down on the bathroom floor in a frump and refused to speak.  I brushed her hair and gave her choices on what to wear.  She said no to everything.  I told her that if she didn't pick, I would pick for her.  Receiving no response, I went in search of an outfit for her.

While I was looking through a pile of clothes, she came downstairs and sat on a kitchen chair.  I held up the outfit I had selected for her and told her she would wear it unless she picked something else.  She declined to pick anything.  I attempted to put the kort on, but she pulled her legs back under the chair and gave me a look that dared me to try to put it on her.  Because I want "no" to mean "no" when it comes to respecting her body, and I told her that she is the boss of herself when it comes to her body, I refused to get into a physical fight.  I placed the clothes on the table and told her that she could wear the outfit I selected, or I would take her to daycare in just her pull-up.

Receiving no response, I packed her clothes, along with her meds and put them in the car.  As I was making trips in and out of the house to get my purse, I noticed she had turned around backwards in the chair.  By the time I was done, she had her arms wrapped around the top, her legs through the back, and she was hanging on.  It was clear she was anticipating me trying to pull her off the chair.  Rather than fight her to pull her free, I wordlessly picked up the chair with her hanging on and carried it to the garage door.  I moved my car so I could get her and the chair into the garage, came back into the house, picked up her and the chair and carried them out to the garage.  I placed her--still naked--and the chair to which she was clinging into the back of the car.  I placed the clothes on the back seat next to her car seat, started the car, backed out of the garage, and sat in the driveway.

I heard occasional cries for attention, but nothing serious.  I watched as she attempted to lay down, but there wasn't enough room in the back with her and the chair.  I rolled down the window, parked the car, and told her that her options were to get dressed and go to daycare, or to stay in the driveway all day.  I told her I would stay in the car with her, so she wouldn't be alone, but that I was going to play Frozen games on my phone until she decided what she wanted.  I asked her a few times if she was ready to get dressed, but my question would prompt a defiant look, a vigorous head shake, and it was clear she wanted to "win."  I would nod, say, "ok," and go back to my phone.

I finally quit asking anything and, after a 15-minute period where I never said anything or looked her way, I heard her moving around.  Watching in the rearview mirror, I watcher her climb out of the back into the back seat and begin to play with some toys she had left back there.  I turned around, picked up the shirt, and tentatively began dressing her.  She did not fight me, so I continued.  She began to cry, so I pulled her into the front seat and sat her in my lap and just held her while she cried.  She helped me finish dressing her, but continued to cry.  I asked her if she could use her words to tell me what was wrong, but she was crying too hard.  We snuggled for a while, and when she would quiet down, I would try again.  At best, I got a few "no" headshakes, but no words.

After a long, quiet period of snuggles and hugs, where I just spoke to her reassuringly about anything I could think of that might be bothering her, I told her that if she could talk with me, maybe we could reach a solution to her problem.  I told her that I needed to get work done and that I couldn't do it without her going to daycare, but that I would come pick her up when it was over, and we would get her a movie and pizza for dinner.  She nodded "yes."  A breakthrough!

I asked if she was ready for me to put her in her seat and didn't receive any objections, so I held her close, got out of my seat, opened the back door, put her in her seat, and buckled her in.  She answered me when I asked what kind of music she wanted.  I got in, put on the requested tunes, and we drove off.  She didn't say anything the whole ride, but she wasn't crying and didn't have the angry look in her eye.

When we arrived, I asked her if she wanted to walk in, or wanted me to carry her.  She said "carry," so I did.  When we sat down, her friends were happy to see her.  She smiled and volunteered the names of some of the other kids by way of introduction for me.  She sat in her chair, began to eat her donuts, smiled, gave me kisses goodbye, and told me she was ready for me to go.

It took an hour, but I think I held the line.  She ended up dressed and at day care.  I never issued any threats, but just gave her choices and consequences.  I probably could have done things differently earlier in the process that would not have escalated us to sitting in the driveway and necessitated the stubborn-off, but I did my best to manage the situation as I had helped create it.  Hopefully, I reinforced that there are choices she gets to make--what she wears, etc--and choices I get to make--whether she goes to daycare, etc.  Since she was ultimately happy shortly after arrival and there was no yelling, no physical altercations, and no idle threats, I'm calling this one a win.

So Far, So Good

I went for my best test Monday with much trepidation.  Fortunately, my results arrived a mere one hour after the blood was taken, which was a relief because waiting until 4:00 in the afternoon is always torture.  My HCG level was 90.  The nurse reported that this was a "strong" number.  Yay!  Honestly, if you had asked me what kind of number I needed to feel relieved, I couldn't have told you.  But, apparently, 90 fell within that zone.  I was cautiously optimistic once again.  Still, even a "strong" initial number wasn't going to soothe my frayed nerves unless it doubled by this morning.

In the world of infertility, the two days between beta tests feels longer than the two-week wait.  So, we do the only thing we can--try and find solace and comfort on the internet.  In that vein, yesterday evening, I spent some time Googling about miscarriages and betas and all types of things.  I learned that my numbers don't rule anything out--we could have one, two, or three babies in there; I learned that my chance of another miscarriage was not a large as I believed; and I learned (again) that there is a limit to the utility of internet.  Having exhausted what it had to offer, I hung up my searching shoes and went to bed.  Nothing to do but wait.

Woke up this morning to roughly 6 inches of snow.  Blerg.  I diligently headed out in the crappy weather to attempt to get my blood drawn at roughly the same time it was taken on Monday.  Since we wanted actual doubling--nothing less would sooth my soul since Oliver had only increased 80%--the magic number we needed this morning was 180.  I said a little prayer on my way in, got my blood drawn, and then went about my day.  Shockingly, I promptly forgot that I was waiting on a phone call until the phone rang.  I immediately had a giant lump in my throat.  My results were in--quite early again, thank goodness.  The nurse chatted with me for a bit and then we got down to business.  And the answer was.....194!!!!  We had slightly more than doubled!  Woo freaking Hoo!  I did a dance of joy and immediately texted Phil.

At this point, I am feeling very good.  I know that things can still go wonky, but all indicators are that we're going to be fine.  Sometime between now and the ultrasound appointment in two weeks I might get a little nervous.  Indeed, until we see a/those tiny blinking heart(s) on the monitor, I'm not sure anything will really relax me.  But, I am definitely feeling good.  The news I got is the best I could get at this point, so I will take comfort in that.  Besides, every step we make it this time is one step further than the last FET where we didn't get anything at all, and that's something worth celebrating all by itself.

So.  In sum.  "Strong" initial HCG levels that are doubling like they are supposed to.  Whew!  Now I can quit worrying about that and get geared up for Lil' Bit's surgery next week!  Ah, the life of a parent.  Never a dull moment!  And I wouldn't change that for anything.

Adaptation or Rule Breaking

I think we've all done it.  Whether we ultimately have children or not, at some point, we have seen a parent doing something or hear of someone's parenting technique and we say, "Wow.  If I have kids, I will never" fill in the blank.  Then, for those who become parents, chances are good we will encounter a situation as a parent where we violate that rule we made while so fervently judging that other parent.

The first "I will never" I remember violating is letting Lil' Bit have a pacifier.  Granted, I didn't get much choice in the matter.  When she was whisked away to the nursery because she wasn't breathing well and they elected to give her one, I decided I was not going to fight it.  It made her happy and thousands of well-adjusted people had them.  Besides, I was not going to make her scream by taking it away.  And so it was that I broke my "I would never" number 2--I will never do something just to make my kid quiet.  This has probably been my biggest rule violation and it has come in many forms.  As Bill Cosby said, "Parents aren't interested in justice. They are interested in peace and quiet."  And so we are.  That doesn't mean that I will give my child anything to make her quiet.  When I tell her "no" and she gets upset, I am more than willing to let her be upset than give in to a tantrum.  But, as I mentioned in my most recent vacation post, I will give her an iPad to try and keep her happy in the car.  That action also broke the "I will never have a DVD player in my car."  Although technically I have not violated this rule, let's be honest, iPads are essentially this generation's in-car-DVD system.  So, I own that as a third rule violation.

I also quickly violated the "I will never have my child watch any television before she's 2."  Ha!  While I try very hard to make sure she plays outside or inside with toys, and she gets exposed to music and all types of things, I was living a lie if I thought I was going to keep her tv free.  I remember when I first got her home and we were doing that loving, cuddling, bondy thing.  She slept often.  And although I knew I needed to nap, I couldn't.  But I unwilling to put my baby down either.  She was only going to be small once and I wanted to snuggle the snot out of her while I could.  So, what's a bored woman with insomnia going to do while holding a sleeping child--watch television apparently.  But, I reasoned with myself, she's not watching it; she's asleep.  And, I tried to be more careful when she was awake.  But, time went by, life got in the way, and, let's be honest, I got lazy, and now she's hooked on Phineas and Ferb and Sesame Street.  Still, there are worse things.

I have been thinking about these rule violations recently and I decided that, for me, the goal is to be aware when I do it, know why I do it, and to limit it appropriately as best I can.  But it also made me wonder.  Given that all parenting is trial and error and on-the-job training, am I simply adapting to reality whereas my rules were made when I had no idea how parenting actually worked, or am I rule-breaking?  As with most things, I decided it was neither fully one or the other.  In large part, I made the rule pronouncements without any concept of the realities of parenting.  That does not mean the rules were unachievable.  I know of parents who made similar rules and managed to keep them.  I think the point, though, is to figure out why I made the pronouncement I did.  Why did I think x behavior was bad and want to avoid it with my child?  I also needed to admit to myself why I was breaking the rule/changing my mind.  And, at least for me, as long as I am honest with myself about why I have changed my position, I don't beat myself up.  I know that I'm doing the best I can and learning as I go.  And kudos to the parents who manage to not break their rules, particularly now that I know how hard that is.  Also, I am way easier on the in-my-head judgments I make about parents I see out and about these days.  Before I had kids, I knew everything.  Now that I have one, I am discovering vast realms of knowledge I didn't even know existed.  So, I cut myself a little slack; acknowledge that I probably rushed to judgment in my youth; and move on to the job ahead of me--Being the adult I want Lil' Bit to grow up to be.  That, to me, is the simplest, but most important rule for me to follow.

Lessons from Tennessee

Having returned from another trip, it is time for another episode of "Lessons from..."  Today's lessons come from lovely, but sweltering, Tennessee.

1.  I should have believed everyone who said traveling with a baby is easier.  Yes, it's hard to travel with a lump who needs all of your time.  But, those lumps sleep most of the trip and have no concept of being in a car seat.  In fact, they probably feel all snuggled up in the seat and don't care that it's not your lap.  As long as you slap some food in when they are hungry and change a diaper here and there, you are good to go.  Toddlers, on the other hand, need entertaining.  They want out.  They will scream at you when they don't get what they want.  They will refuse to nap even though they are tired.  Yup.  Traveling with a baby was so much easier.  Wish I had listened to "them."

2.  Trips/vacations aren't nearly as much fun with a clingy, needy child who only wants me.  Here we were, with literally dozens of people, adults and children alike, dying for the chance to hug and entertain my child, but all she would do is scream bloody murder whenever I put her down, let alone left eyesight.  Even her daddy is chopped liver these days.  Back before we had kids, when my sister-in-law told me having kids would mean I would never get to use the bathroom alone again, I never dreamed it would mean holding my child on my lap and reading her a story while I went about my business.  I know that someday I will yearn for my child to want me as much as she does now, but that doesn't stop me from being frustrated that I can't get a single moment to myself or even get simple chores done.

3.  iPads are proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.  Between downloading episodes of Phineas & Ferb for my child to watch, cute Fisher Price Apps she can play with, books she can flip through, and the general ability to open mommy's apps and flip the screen around, it kept her occupied when nothing else would work.  I know I said I would never be one of "those" parents who let their child under 2 watch television, let alone let said child play with my telephone or iPad, but that was before I knew how wonderful it was to have a way to stop my child from shrieking during an hour-long traffic back-up because part of I-75 has slid down the side of a mountain.

4.  Never assume that I know what my child likes.  My child loves to play in the tub.  Loves it so much she will squeal if we take her from the tub before she is done.  So, imagine my surprise that she does not like splashing in a pool, a river, or a water park.  Nothing like dropping beaucoup bucks to go to Dollywood Splash Country only to spend most of the day sitting under the canopy waiting to see what other people had fun doing.  At least we had the canopy!

5.  My daughter is a flirt.  On our third attempt to take Lil' Bit into the kiddie pool for a little dip, she spotted a chubby 9-month-old little boy.  Suddenly, she was willing to not only stand in the water, but walk over to him and smile and grin and burble nonsense.  She waved and blew kisses and was positively, disgustingly cute.  All for a little boy.  Once we left his range, however, it was time to leave.  She was having no more of that water stuff, thank you very much.  *sigh*  It's going to be a long 18 years.

6.  Cousins are great.  The few times Lil' Bit deigned to leave me, she was playing with her older cousins, aged 6, 8 and 9.  They managed to help her learn to walk up and down stairs using the handrail.  Although she's not perfect, she's way closer to being able to navigate stairs on her own in the upright position, not just crawling.  When did she get so big?! *sniffle*  But, my point is, these were things I had tried to do with her, but she was unwilling to learn.  However, when it was her cousins, it was different, and she was more than willing to do it for them.  More proof, if I need it, that I need a village to raise my child.

7.  Don't get attached to clothing.  For the short period that I did manage to get Lil' Bit into the river for some play time, she managed to lose a flip-flop which was quickly caught by the current and rushed away long before I even realized it was gone.  Bye-bye ladybug flip-flop.  Now I must find a way to remove the other beloved shoe from my daughter's foot and make it disappear so that she forgets she ever owned them.

8.  I have to relinquish control of some of Lil' Bit's clothing choices.  We inherited a cute little Dora the Explorer sundress (size 3T which currently FITS, but that's for another post).  The moment Lil' Bit saw it, she was over the moon.  Apparently they watch Dora at daycare.  Whenever she sees the dress, picks it up and holds it out and pulls at the clothes she is wearing to let me know she wants to be changed into the dress.  If it is in the laundry bin, she will pull it out.  She doesn't care that it's dirty.  Dirty has no meaning to her.  She just wants Dora.  Other times, she'll see what I have selected and fight me or yell "no" when I try to dress her.  She wants something else.  Most days, she still goes with the flow, but I can see the writing on the wall.  I may get to buy the clothes, but she's going to be picking what she wears from here on out.

9.  Clean up on aisle 5.  My daughter will not let me hold the cereal bowl for her.  She will shriek at me because she can do it herself.  But, when she dumps it all in her lap, she will just as quickly shriek at me to clean it up because it is cold and wet.  Thank goodness my parents have a dog that will Hoover the carpet of things like corn and hamburger.

10.  I can do this.  Ever since Lil' Bit got placed on her meds, we haven't done much traveling.  We did some at Christmas and we went to Chicago for the wedding, but otherwise we have been homebodies.  I have recognized that part of it is that I hate having to try and pack everything we'll need and worry about being gone over med-time.  However, I have taken more outings during the weekends and have been getting more comfortable with figuring out how to do things with Lil' Bit's needs.  This trip, we traveled from Michigan to Indiana, to Tennessee, to another place in Tennessee, back to Indiana, and back to Michigan over the course of a week.  We got Lil' Bit properly and timely medicated every day, got her to eat fairly well, sometimes even nutritiously, didn't break her sleep schedule too much, and even had some enjoyable moments with both our families.  Although there were some rough patches, we returned home with 30 fingers and 30 toes still attached.  That's a win in this house.

As always, it will take several weeks to recover from our "vacation," but it was great to see so much of the family and get to introduce Lil' Bit to many of them for the first time.  It's great to be home, but this trip certainly helped me be less anxious about our next week-long trip--a trip which will likely require me to pack meds of my own :)  But that's also for another time.

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.

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.

Free Will

As I watch Lil' Bit grow and learn, I have come to understand why God would want to give us free will.  I have also come to understand the metaphor of God as father and us as children.

Infancy is wonderful.  It is full of snuggles and coos and cute faces and learning your child's personality.  But the real fun and joy, at least for me, has come as Lil' Bit got older.  The way her face lights up when she sees me.  The feeling of her little arms hugging me back.  Her crawling into my lap to read her a book.  I love that she is choosing to share time with me, choosing to give me love.  As an infant, she didn't really have a choice.  If I wanted to snuggle, we snuggled.  And there's something amazing about snuggling a little, warm lump.  But I wouldn't trade my sassy toddler who can show me affection, for anything.  I imagine that for God, it's much the same way.  The relationship is so much bigger, so much more meaningful, when it's by choice.  Both He and I get more out of a relationship where I choose to be part of it, in the same way that Lil' Bit and I have a much more intimate relationship because she can choose whether she wants me in her personal space.

I imagine that the first time she tells me she hates me, I will have a small glimpse of what God must feel like when we yell and rage at Him because we don't understand why things happen.  Getting upset is normal.  But, ultimately, we have to trust that, in the same way that we are trying to do what we think is best for our children, knowing that they will get upset because they don't understand, God does the same.  God has more knowledge and a bigger picture to look at than we do.  But we still have free will.  We can tell a child 100 times not to touch a hot stove, but ultimately, if they are persistent and choose to ignore the warnings, they will find a way to touch one.  In the same way, God attempts to guide and nudge us in the right direction, gently at first, then in less subtle ways.  But He will allow us to burn ourselves if we are persistent enough and ignore the warnings.  So, the next time I feel like God is telling me "no," I will take time to rethink my position and see if it's because God is trying to gently guide me down another path.

This new-found understanding will not prevent me from getting angry at God in the future over things I feel are wrong or unjust.  Just as it helps our children to get the anger out, it helps us to get it out, too.  But, in the end, I hope to be able to say:  "I'm sorry I got angry.  I just don't understand.  But it doesn't mean that I don't love you.  And it doesn't mean that I don't want you in my life."  And God will tell me, "Someday, you'll understand."

Adjustments in Perspective

Last week, it occurred to me that I had never researched Lil' Bit's pulmonary hypertension.  When I found out she only had one pulmonary artery, I scoured the web for information.  But, somehow, when the doctor said she had increased pressure in her heart and labeled it "pulmonary hypertension," it did not occur to me that it was A CONDITION.  Imagine my surprise when I found gobs of information, including a Pulmonary Hypertension Association, which included (wonderful!) resources for parents of kids who have it.  Sadly, one of the things I discovered is that they don't know much.  Part of the problem is that the research generally involves adults, making it hard to know if the same will hold true for children.  In addition, research and treatment are pretty new.  Thus, much of the information still talks about a 2-3 year morbidity rate for adults who leave the condition untreated.  It is extremely hard to find any information about morbidity rates for those receiving treatment, let alone for children receiving treatment.  But, even in my frustration at not finding all of the information I had been hoping to find, I did learn a few things.

First, I learned that Lil' Bit had a chronic condition.  I know this seems like a "well duh," but actually it was was hard to accept.  Back when we were told she needed surgery, we assumed that once she had the surgery, she would be fixed.  Then, we ended up having to do meds, which we thought would be for one year.  Now it looks more like two.  The truth is, we don't know how long she'll need the meds.  It may be forever.  And so, I have decided to treat it like it will be forever.  If I tell myself that she will need meds 6 times a day for the rest of her life, I can quit waiting for the next disappointment.  I can figure out how to schedule my life so that I can do things and get out of the house instead of telling myself that, if I just hold out until X date, things will get easier.  If she ends up getting off meds, or has fewer, BONUS.  But, if not, I'm not stuck in a holding pattern.

Second, I learned that we were doing a good job.  When I went to my doctor to get my anti-depressants, since he is also Lil' Bit's GP, I asked him if we were doing a good job with her.  I certainly thought we were, but I had no frame of reference.  I have never raised a "regular" child, let alone one with special needs.  I could tell myself that we were doing well all I wanted, but it would not calm me.  I needed someone who knew what he was talking about to tell me so.  I can believe an expert.  What he told me made me cry.  He said we were doing "phenomenal."  He said that when he had other people bring in children who had semi-serious conditions, he would hold us out as example parents.  Me.  An example parent.  Huh.  We thought we were failing at normal.  Turns out, we're exceeding at very hard.  Which leads me to...

Third, what we are doing is very hard.  We talked with Lil' Bit's cardiologist recently about what he thought Lil' Bit's long-term care needs would be in an effort to factor that in to our consideration of whether we would have additional children.  We also talked to him about the increased risk of additional children having heart issues.  Like Dr. R, Dr. S was extremely complimentary on how we are doing.  He acknowledged that the social aspects of giving meds to anyone, let alone a child, 6 times a day is difficult and admitted that he had a hard time taking one med once a day for 10 days.  He said he understood that he made recommendations and wanted people to follow them, but he also understood that it was difficult to do so, and that we deserved a medal for doing as well as we were.

Fourth, I learned that what we are doing is very hard.  This lesson is listed twice because it cannot be over emphasized.  I have to stop comparing myself to parents with children who had no or few health issues.  I also have to stop comparing myself to parents whose children have more difficult conditions than mine.  You know, I think the lesson here is to stop comparing myself.  But, I digress.  I need to, and must, allow myself to acknowledge that what I am doing is not easy.  Only by doing so will I schedule time for my own self-care.  Otherwise, I will just try to power through because I should be able to.  If it's hard, there is no reason to power through.  I can give myself permission to be tired and exhausted.  These are reasonable feelings when dealing with "something hard" and allow me to take time for me.  

With these lessons, I have two choices.  I can accept them, or I can ignore them.  I have opted for the former and am working to adjust my perspective to the "new normal."  I don't know how bad Lil' Bit's condition will ultimately be, so I am going to enjoy every day I have with her.  I don't know how long things will be difficult, so I will make time for me in the craziness that exists instead of waiting for the calm that may never be.  And, I don't know what it's like to parent any other child, so I won't try; I will just work on being the best parent I can be to the child I have.  If I can do those three things, it will be enough.

Dear Baby - Discernment

Dear Baby,

I don't know what the world will look like when you are old enough to start school.  However, even though we are a long way off from your formal education, I intend to teach you what I believe is one of the most important lessons people need and one that is rarely, if ever, taught.  Discernment.

Long ago, in a galaxy far, far, away...(Yes, your parents are geeks; you will suffer from this fact your entire life.  Sorry.).  Anyway, as I was saying, long ago, research was done at libraries using books and card catalog systems.  There were no blogs; no Wikipedia; no internet; no computers.  There was knowledge, but you had to go look for it.  With the above inventions, research became easier.  Access to all types of information opened up.  Virtually anyone from anywhere could have access to any information out there.  Which was wonderful.  Except that it also resulted in information overload.  Often, the important information became hard to find again because it was drowned out by nonsense and junk.  And, although people had gained access to lots of new information, no one taught them how to thoughtfully consider and weigh that information.  No one taught them how to cull through the morass of information to find what was relevant, accurate, or true.  There are times when people find a single source that says something they want to be true, and they will cite it.  News Flash!  Just because someone posts something on the internet, or prints it in a book or a newspaper, or says it on the television, does not make it true, or right, or good, or anything else.  You are going to have to learn to discern what is useful and helpful out of all the information that is thrown your way.  And it is my job, and privilege, to help you learn how to do that.

This does not mean that I am going to require you to agree with me.  I expect you to be your own individual  with your own opinions.  As your grandparents said about your father and your Aunt L, the worst thing they ever did was teach them to think for themselves; they have been trouble ever since.  I expect you to think for yourself.  But I will also expect you to be able to support your positions.  I expect that your uncle Dale will be most helpful in this regard and, when you are old enough to start reasoning, I imagine that he will take great delight in helping you hone that ability.

Furthermore, generally speaking, you will be able to expect the same of me.  When we are having discussions, I should be able to provide support for my positions.  But, even if you don't like or agree with my reasoning, you will still have to do what I say.  Contrary to popular belief, until you are 18, I am the boss of you because I am your parent and I am responsible for you.  In this vein, there will be times when what I say goes and the only support necessary for my position will be "Because I said so."  It will not be fair.  You will not like it.  But you will have to abide by it.  I have no doubt that this will cause much consternation and strife for you and your sister, similar to that caused to me and my siblings when our parents did it to us.  It will not change anything.  You will still have to do as I say.  But, I pledge to you that I will do my very best to use "because I said so" sparingly.  And, when its your home and your child, I give you permission to use it as much as you want.  Until then, know that whenever I say you must do something, it is said out of love.  Maybe frustration and anger, too.  But, always, rooted in love.

Love,
Mom