Showing posts with label Ethan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ethan. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Inspiration
I haven't been inspired to write lately. Which is odd, since I have two of the most precious little inspirations living right under my roof.
I am a very happy person. Even in the midst of a struggle, I can look around and see the blessings in my life. I get these little bursts of joy every single day, sometimes from small ordinary things. It could be the glint of light on my wedding ring, Evie's smile, the first shoot of a crocus poking out of the earth, or a song on the radio. But my heart swells and the world feels right and I know just how lucky I am to be living this life. My wonderful life.
For several weeks in February, though, those little bursts were missing. It's not that I was unhappy. But I was just going through the motions of my life, watching it happen in front of me. I wasn't participating.
This had never happened to me before. Where was my joy? How could I get it back?
So I started working out again. It made me feel better about myself and gave me some alone time. I sometimes sit and talk with friends and have a cup of coffee afterward. But no bursts of joy. I got a new haircut. No burst. I prayed about it, asking God to make me aware of the blessings that surround me, to make me feel them in my heart. Still not a single burst. I tried to talk to Chris about it once, laying in the dark. He didn't understand what I was trying to say, and the conversation quickly became an argument. Definitely no burst there.
And just when I started thinking I should talk to my doctor about postpartum depression, the sun came out. Literally.
Early last week, a little bit of springtime crept into St. Louis. The breezes blew just a tiny bit warmer and I felt the sun on my face. I don't know if it was really the long Midwestern winter or my hormones, but I finally feel like myself again. Everywhere I look, I find inspiration and joy.
Yesterday, I was patting Ethan's back, trying to get him to fall asleep for his afternoon nap. He craned his neck over to look at my face. And he laughed. He couldn't stop - it was one of those silly, tired laughs. It made me laugh, and then Evie joined in. Burst!
Last week we went for a walk in the sun with one of our neighbors. Then Evie and the girls drew chalk pictures on the driveway. Such bright colors, such bright faces full of smiles. Burst!
When I change Ethan's poopy diapers, he laughs. It distracts me from the fact that I'm changing a poopy diaper, and makes me laugh, too. Burst!
The other day, Evie ran into the living room with a mini Sleeping Beauty doll. She asked "Is this the future?" I was baffled. She explained that she had finally put Sleeping Beauty's pink dress on by herself. And then I remembered telling her not to give up, that if she kept trying, she would be able to put the dress on all by herself, one day in the future. Burst!
I was on the computer in the kitchen yesterday, and I glanced into the living room. Ethan was sitting in a chair, and Evie had climbed up next to him. She had her arm around him and was reading him an Easter book. Burst! Burst! Burst!
Evie was making cupcakes in her play kitchen the other day, and she was so excited about adding extra shredded cheese to the cupcakes. She even made sure to add some on top. Burst!
A few nights ago, we were saying our prayers before bed. And Evie said "Jesus, please help me sleep through the night, so I don't get into trouble from Mommy." Burst!
Right now, my mom and Evie are playing with pop beads at the kitchen table. I'm listening to their conversation and their laughs. Burst!
So I'm inspired again. Inspired and loving this life. Burst! Burst! Burst!
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Smile
Motherhood is hard. Motherhood is wonderful. It's both, all at once.
When I was pregnant with Evie, I imagined holding her while she was sleeping. And kissing her sweet head. And tickling her fat little toes. I imagined hearing coos and whispering songs in her ear and contentedly rocking her in the dead of night.
And those things happened. Those were blissful moments, to be sure.
But I didn't imagine how I would handle a baby in the backseat of the car, screaming her pretty little head off. I didn't consider what it would be like to try to coax her back to sleep for hours at 2 AM. I had no idea how hard it would be to get poop stains out of her clothes after she'd been on antibiotics for a week. And don't get me started on the balancing act of keeping up with dishes and vacuuming and taking a shower and working and commuting and still finding time to mother her.
So I was much more prepared for Ethan's arrival. I knew what I was getting myself into. I was prepared for all the pitfalls. All the bumps in the road. All the exhaustion and mundane routine of the first months and years. I was terrified.
Other than that first week in the NICU, though, he's been an easy baby. He's sweet and fat and sleepy most of the time. My fears have been largely unfounded. Evie loves him, wants to be near him, talks to him, sings to him, wakes him up just to try and play, "shares" her lip gloss with him.
Oh, does he have my heart! When someone else is holding him, Ethan looks around for me. I can see his little eyes searching me out. He puts his head on my shoulder and curls his legs in and sleeps. He coos sweet nothings to me.
And he has the best smile. The worst day could be cured by his gummy grin. I don't even have to do anything to earn this reward - he just looks at me. In the morning, in the afternoon, at dinner, in the middle of the night... He only looks at me and breaks into a wide smile. His face brightens and his dimple appears.
These smiles from my children - Evie's over-the-top, head-tilted, laughing smile and Ethan's toothless, bright grin - are all the payment I'll ever need for this job with the title of "Mother."
When I was pregnant with Evie, I imagined holding her while she was sleeping. And kissing her sweet head. And tickling her fat little toes. I imagined hearing coos and whispering songs in her ear and contentedly rocking her in the dead of night.
And those things happened. Those were blissful moments, to be sure.
But I didn't imagine how I would handle a baby in the backseat of the car, screaming her pretty little head off. I didn't consider what it would be like to try to coax her back to sleep for hours at 2 AM. I had no idea how hard it would be to get poop stains out of her clothes after she'd been on antibiotics for a week. And don't get me started on the balancing act of keeping up with dishes and vacuuming and taking a shower and working and commuting and still finding time to mother her.
So I was much more prepared for Ethan's arrival. I knew what I was getting myself into. I was prepared for all the pitfalls. All the bumps in the road. All the exhaustion and mundane routine of the first months and years. I was terrified.
Other than that first week in the NICU, though, he's been an easy baby. He's sweet and fat and sleepy most of the time. My fears have been largely unfounded. Evie loves him, wants to be near him, talks to him, sings to him, wakes him up just to try and play, "shares" her lip gloss with him.
Oh, does he have my heart! When someone else is holding him, Ethan looks around for me. I can see his little eyes searching me out. He puts his head on my shoulder and curls his legs in and sleeps. He coos sweet nothings to me.
And he has the best smile. The worst day could be cured by his gummy grin. I don't even have to do anything to earn this reward - he just looks at me. In the morning, in the afternoon, at dinner, in the middle of the night... He only looks at me and breaks into a wide smile. His face brightens and his dimple appears.
These smiles from my children - Evie's over-the-top, head-tilted, laughing smile and Ethan's toothless, bright grin - are all the payment I'll ever need for this job with the title of "Mother."
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
Night
I've never been a good sleeper. I lay my head on the pillow, and instead of drifting to dreamland, my brain clicks "on." I worry, I write blog posts in my head, I make To Do lists, I redecorate the house. So when I finally fall asleep, I want to stay sleeping! Because I repeat the whole cycle again if I wake up.
But I don't mind getting up with Ethan at night.
Oh, he's just the sweetest thing ever. And he's all mine at night.
During the day, there is so much going on. The radio is on, or the television is on. Evie is running around, or dancing, or singing, or asking for my help. The doorbell rings, or the phone rings.
At night, it's quiet. The light is dim. It's just the two of us. I hold his warm body in my arms while I feed him. In the soft light, he looks like a little angel. I kiss his head and stroke his cheek.
When I was up with Evie in the night, I used to pray for other mothers who were up with their children. But I sometimes forget to pray when I'm up with Ethan. He steals all my attention, all my love, all my heart - there in the dark.
But I don't mind getting up with Ethan at night.
Oh, he's just the sweetest thing ever. And he's all mine at night.
During the day, there is so much going on. The radio is on, or the television is on. Evie is running around, or dancing, or singing, or asking for my help. The doorbell rings, or the phone rings.
At night, it's quiet. The light is dim. It's just the two of us. I hold his warm body in my arms while I feed him. In the soft light, he looks like a little angel. I kiss his head and stroke his cheek.
When I was up with Evie in the night, I used to pray for other mothers who were up with their children. But I sometimes forget to pray when I'm up with Ethan. He steals all my attention, all my love, all my heart - there in the dark.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Just Average
Yesterday was Ethan's one-month check up with his pediatrician.
He is 21 inches long.
He weighs 9 pounds, 5 ounces.
Guess what percentile 9 pounds, 5 ounces is? The 48th percentile.
Yep, that's me doing a little dance. I finally have a "normal" sized child!
I love Evie - her big personality in her tiny little body. But I'm happy Ethan is average. No weight checks are scheduled in our future. I won't cry at the doctor's office if he loses an ounce. I won't butter everything he eats or insist he eats his ice cream before his carrots.
Just average is just great...
He is 21 inches long.
He weighs 9 pounds, 5 ounces.
Guess what percentile 9 pounds, 5 ounces is? The 48th percentile.
Yep, that's me doing a little dance. I finally have a "normal" sized child!
I love Evie - her big personality in her tiny little body. But I'm happy Ethan is average. No weight checks are scheduled in our future. I won't cry at the doctor's office if he loses an ounce. I won't butter everything he eats or insist he eats his ice cream before his carrots.
Just average is just great...
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Off Course
So what have I been doing the past few days since we returned home? Besides cuddling and cooing and not sleeping? Well, I've been trying to breastfeed.
And, oh, I've been having the hardest time!
I remember rough patches with Evie. Waiting for my milk to come in, trying to get her to wake up for feedings, the whole milk/soy thing... But the relationship we had during our nursing sessions made it all worthwhile. I loved the whole thing, and breastfed her for 20 months. It's an accomplishment I'm still very proud of.
Ethan is a different story, though. Just hours after he was born, he was in the NICU with jaundice. It was important to get him eating right away, to rid his body of bilirubin. So I agreed to supplement his feedings with formula. And he drank a LOT of formula! The nurses were all impressed with his appetite, and everyone was happy when he started getting better.
But all the bottles have caused me problems. I can't get him to latch on. I worked with a lactation consultant at the hospital, and she gave me lots of tips. I was so enthusiastic at first, but after so many days of Ethan refusing to nurse, after days of trying everything I could think of, of calls to several lactation consultants, of pumping around the clock to protect my milk supply, of more tears than you can imagine, after nipple shields and dripping syringes of breastmilk, and countless pleads to Ethan to JUST LATCH ON, I am done.
It makes me so sad. This is never something I even considered. Bottle feeding just wasn't in my plans at all. However, here I am.
Talking with Ethan's pediatrician last night made me feel so much better. Really, there's not much more I can do to encourage him to nurse. And it's not a choice I made for him - he made it for me.
The new plan is to pump a few times during the day and feed him that milk from a bottle. His other feedings will be formula. And I'll cuddle him often, wear him in a sling, sing to him, and kiss his little head so he still feels nurtured. It's a compromise I never wanted to make, although I'm becoming more accepting as time goes by.
But it sure feels like failure.
And, oh, I've been having the hardest time!
I remember rough patches with Evie. Waiting for my milk to come in, trying to get her to wake up for feedings, the whole milk/soy thing... But the relationship we had during our nursing sessions made it all worthwhile. I loved the whole thing, and breastfed her for 20 months. It's an accomplishment I'm still very proud of.
Ethan is a different story, though. Just hours after he was born, he was in the NICU with jaundice. It was important to get him eating right away, to rid his body of bilirubin. So I agreed to supplement his feedings with formula. And he drank a LOT of formula! The nurses were all impressed with his appetite, and everyone was happy when he started getting better.
But all the bottles have caused me problems. I can't get him to latch on. I worked with a lactation consultant at the hospital, and she gave me lots of tips. I was so enthusiastic at first, but after so many days of Ethan refusing to nurse, after days of trying everything I could think of, of calls to several lactation consultants, of pumping around the clock to protect my milk supply, of more tears than you can imagine, after nipple shields and dripping syringes of breastmilk, and countless pleads to Ethan to JUST LATCH ON, I am done.
It makes me so sad. This is never something I even considered. Bottle feeding just wasn't in my plans at all. However, here I am.
Talking with Ethan's pediatrician last night made me feel so much better. Really, there's not much more I can do to encourage him to nurse. And it's not a choice I made for him - he made it for me.
The new plan is to pump a few times during the day and feed him that milk from a bottle. His other feedings will be formula. And I'll cuddle him often, wear him in a sling, sing to him, and kiss his little head so he still feels nurtured. It's a compromise I never wanted to make, although I'm becoming more accepting as time goes by.
But it sure feels like failure.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Long Story, Short
Ethan is still beautiful, but life is not.
In the wee hours of Monday morning, Ethan's billirubin levels shot up dramatically. Like, enough to wake his pediatritan in the dead of night and get him admitted to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.
His levels have stablized, thanks to constant light therapy. But they are still way too high, so although I have been discharged, I am rooming in with Ethan at the hospital.
His doctors are unsure of what caused such a rapid rise, but it is most likely a maternal blood incompatibilty issue or some kind of rare genetic thing. In any situation, the outcome is good, and we are thankful for that.
The hardest thing is that we cannot hold him, since he has to be under the lights contantly. Evie is home, while Chris and I are not. This is certainly not the way I imagined our family life would start out.
Everything should calm down in the next few days, and we hope to go home soon. Ethan will probably remain on 24/7 light therapy for awhile there, but at least we will all be together. And that will be the start of something very, very good.
In the wee hours of Monday morning, Ethan's billirubin levels shot up dramatically. Like, enough to wake his pediatritan in the dead of night and get him admitted to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.
His levels have stablized, thanks to constant light therapy. But they are still way too high, so although I have been discharged, I am rooming in with Ethan at the hospital.
His doctors are unsure of what caused such a rapid rise, but it is most likely a maternal blood incompatibilty issue or some kind of rare genetic thing. In any situation, the outcome is good, and we are thankful for that.
The hardest thing is that we cannot hold him, since he has to be under the lights contantly. Evie is home, while Chris and I are not. This is certainly not the way I imagined our family life would start out.
Everything should calm down in the next few days, and we hope to go home soon. Ethan will probably remain on 24/7 light therapy for awhile there, but at least we will all be together. And that will be the start of something very, very good.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Ethan Ambrose
Ethan arrived, after an easy delivery, at 6:37 PM this evening. He looks just like Chris, in miniature. He weighs 7 lbs, 5 oz and is 20 in long.
I am already in love.
More to come in the morning...
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Sunday Morning
So right now, I'm sitting in a hospital bed, pitocin dripping into my veins. I'm comfortable. And so very excited.
I keep looking down toward my belly. Ethan must also be excited, because his movement is causing my gown to ripple and move. His heartbeat is a steady sound in the background, along with ESPN on television. Already Chris is immersing our baby boy in football!
The sun is shining through the blinds, and a ray of light has fallen on the baby bed Ethan will soon rest in. I keep looking over, imagining him there. Not much longer, but the anticipation is killing me!
All the struggles to have another baby are about to pay off. God provides His light in every difficult situation. So now we wait to meet our son. We wait for this next wonderful change to our lives. And we thank God, again, for answering our prayers.
Blessed Be Your Name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name
Blessed Be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name
Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name
Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's all as it should be
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name
Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name
I keep looking down toward my belly. Ethan must also be excited, because his movement is causing my gown to ripple and move. His heartbeat is a steady sound in the background, along with ESPN on television. Already Chris is immersing our baby boy in football!
The sun is shining through the blinds, and a ray of light has fallen on the baby bed Ethan will soon rest in. I keep looking over, imagining him there. Not much longer, but the anticipation is killing me!
All the struggles to have another baby are about to pay off. God provides His light in every difficult situation. So now we wait to meet our son. We wait for this next wonderful change to our lives. And we thank God, again, for answering our prayers.
Blessed Be Your Name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name
Blessed Be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name
Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name
Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's all as it should be
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name
Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name
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