In February I celebrated a milestone. Well, actually we celebrated my oldest son's 16th birthday but I'm pretty sure the birthdays we celebrate for our children are as much for us as they are for them.
Just the fact that I have been someone's mother for 16 years is mind boggling! I was 19 when I became pregnant with him and turned 20 shortly before he was born. I look back at those early years with pride and also with amazement because single motherhood is not for the weak. I could not have survived without the support of my family but I think I did a darn good job raising him.
After coming to terms with the reality that my firstborn is two years away from adulthood (yikes!), I started thinking about what kind of mother I am. I look back at all of my years being a mother and pray that nothing I did (or didn't) do has screwed any of my children up. I know this is a normal reaction for a lot of moms. We worry we did something wrong or overlooked something we should have done. It pretty much never ends - the internal judgement of our own mothering. But I try to be gentle with myself.
No one has the perfect formula for parenting and no one way of parenting is the right one. As for me, I find myself evolving, and after losing Imogen, I think this evolution of my own personal journey of motherhood is a good thing. I try to be more patient with my little ones. I have learned to choose battles and let the small or irrelevant stuff go. I have become more in-tune with finding what brings the best out of my children. I find that I choose my words carefully and pay attention to my actions so much more than before Imogen. She is still making her mark in my mothering. I think that is an amazing thing! Her whole little life carved out a new perspective for me and how I look at my other children, making me even more aware of the love I have for each of them. And when I am scared of what lies ahead, I find myself thinking of the hardest day of my life - losing my precious baby, and I am very certain that I would welcome another life into this family without hesitation. Knowing that we don't always get what we want and understanding that life may hold other plans, I can only hope I do get that chance again.
"Motherhood is a choice you make everyday, to put someone else's happiness and well-being ahead of your own, to teach the hard lessons, to do the right thing even when you're not sure what the right thing is...and to forgive yourself, over and over again, for doing everything wrong."
- Donna Ball
Showing posts with label Clones. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Clones. Show all posts
Thursday, April 9, 2015
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Until we meet again...
We welcomed Imogen Violet into the world on February 9th at 1:39 a.m. Her body held on for about 34 minutes before she quietly passed away on my chest. Those 34 minutes were some of the most beautiful minutes I will ever know. My prayers that she would be born alive had been answered and I will always be grateful. It has been two weeks since we had to let her go and I think I am finally able to write down my thoughts about her birth, the long labor and how my heart is.
We knew we were being induced because of the high levels of amniotic fluid. I had gained roughly 30 pounds during the 37 weeks I carried her but about 80% of that or more was the weight of the amniotic fluid. I had been unable to walk for more than a small distance for weeks, couldn't sleep longer than a two hour stretch on my couch and was just plain miserable for weeks leading up to induction. I felt guilty for even wanting to be induced because I knew I was her lifeline and her birth meant her days were even more numbered. I really struggled with this. Ultimately I knew we were ready to face reality and I needed to make sure my health wasn't at risk. We went into the hospital on a Thursday evening. I knew an induction could take a long time or even cause complications but I was hopeful that wouldn't be the case with our labor and birth.
After determining I was not physically ready to deliver anytime soon, they used meds to ripen my cervix so I could start pitocin (the next day) and hopefully put my body into labor. This medicine worked pretty well and actually made me feel like I was in labor and for 12 + hours I was having hard and steady contractions. Unfortunately my body has a sensitivity to these meds and the contractions were too close to start pitocin. One of the concerns with a pregnancy like mine is the access amniotic fluid. My uterus was already stretched to capacity with the amount of fluid. That can cause very strong contractions that in rare situations leads to uterine rupture or a detached placenta. Both of these things could cause me harm. Those two outcomes were always in the back of my mind as I labored. It was a new experience for me as my other labors are relatively quick and uncomplicated. I was stressed out by the whole process by the end of Friday when labor stalled and nothing seemed to be happening. Saturday they unhooked me from the IV and allowed me to roam around and labor without being tied to the bed. I was able to get a lot of contractions going again and was hopeful. Later that afternoon though when we tried pitocin, it made my uterus contract violently and there continued to be no change in dilation. Overwhelmed and disappointed were thoughts that came to mind that afternoon. I was mentally and physically exhausted and I was starting to feel depressed.
When I awoke on Sunday (as if I really had gotten any sleep), we met with the doctor on call. Around 9 a.m. that doctor (who was very kind and calm) broke my water. It seems that I had dilated to 3 at some point after those three days of laboring off and on. When he broke my water you could see my belly deflate like a balloon. The fluid flooded the entire bed and some of the floor. If I could have captured the doctor's reaction to the amount of fluid you would maybe understand how those few minutes felt. I experienced immediate relief of the weight that I had been carrying around but I also felt guilty that the baby was now being forced out. Once my water broke, I knew time was literally ticking away and it wouldn't be very much longer. It is a little bit of a blur but I believe we tried pitocin once again and it sent me into violent contractions again. I starting losing blood and releasing clots. There was concern that my placenta was partially detached and each strong contraction could make it worse. They took me back off of pitocin. This is where I started getting emotional and cried. None of this journey was fair and now I'm having a complicated labor? I was getting angry and losing hope. I hated feeling so helpless especially knowing on top of everything else, my baby was going to die. I had to fight a battle in my own head just to stay at peace. At some point in the day the dreaded C-section conversation started and words like epidural (which I have never had) started coming up. Thanks to good advice and an open mind (and complete exhaustion), I said yes to the epidural. My body had a scary reaction to it so he removed it and placed it again in a different spot. I was too exhausted to even be scared. I just let it all happen and knew it wasn't in my hands. I felt a sense of peace I hadn't felt in a few days and it came just at the right time. The epidural relaxed my body to the point of letting me dilate to 6 by that evening. I remember hearing the news and then I knew a C-section was probably not going to happen, which lifted my spirits even more. We watched The Walking Dead and then I dozed off for a bit. My poor husband was probably more exhausted than I was. Neither of us had to ever spend this much time in a hospital room. We were ready to be home. After a couple of hours of sleep I awoke to strange feelings and asked the nurse to check on my progress. At around 1:15 a.m. I was finally ready to push so we called our family, a photographer (and friend) and after a few pushes Immy entered the world and was put right on my chest.
We marveled over her resemblance to Mazzy. She looked almost identical minus the obvious physical deformities. She never really took full breaths and her heart continued beating for 34 minutes. There is no doubt she didn't suffer for a minute and was so peaceful as she stayed close to my heart. She was 3 lbs. 14 ounces and almost 17 inches long. She had a few wisps of dark black hair near her neck and perfect little hands and feet. Our family was able to hold and snuggle her and I will always feel that her life in its simplicity and briefness was breathtaking to witness. Looking back, I have so many thoughts. She impacted us in a mighty way and I will never again be the person I once was...
I wrote this to her in my journal:
Imogen,
We may not get to experience the joy of bringing you home, but your spirit will always fill it.
You have taught us what unconditional love is, what it feels like and how to give it freely. Our ability to love has increased. We will never be who we once were. Your brief life has left an eternal mark on us.
You only knew love and loved you are. With everything in me you are loved.
Imogen taught me to love even when loss was imminent and even if disappointment was the end result. She showed me how her life mattered even if it was not lived for very long on this earth. She connected me with feelings I've never felt before. She filled in the cracks of my faith. My pregnancy was filled with both beauty and pain. And it was through this experience that I can say I understand how beautiful God's love is. I loved Imogen without condition and knowing she would never thrive in this life. Her existence was nothing short of love in its purest form and forever I will honor her life with mine.
Thank you Immy for teaching me about love.
We knew we were being induced because of the high levels of amniotic fluid. I had gained roughly 30 pounds during the 37 weeks I carried her but about 80% of that or more was the weight of the amniotic fluid. I had been unable to walk for more than a small distance for weeks, couldn't sleep longer than a two hour stretch on my couch and was just plain miserable for weeks leading up to induction. I felt guilty for even wanting to be induced because I knew I was her lifeline and her birth meant her days were even more numbered. I really struggled with this. Ultimately I knew we were ready to face reality and I needed to make sure my health wasn't at risk. We went into the hospital on a Thursday evening. I knew an induction could take a long time or even cause complications but I was hopeful that wouldn't be the case with our labor and birth.
After determining I was not physically ready to deliver anytime soon, they used meds to ripen my cervix so I could start pitocin (the next day) and hopefully put my body into labor. This medicine worked pretty well and actually made me feel like I was in labor and for 12 + hours I was having hard and steady contractions. Unfortunately my body has a sensitivity to these meds and the contractions were too close to start pitocin. One of the concerns with a pregnancy like mine is the access amniotic fluid. My uterus was already stretched to capacity with the amount of fluid. That can cause very strong contractions that in rare situations leads to uterine rupture or a detached placenta. Both of these things could cause me harm. Those two outcomes were always in the back of my mind as I labored. It was a new experience for me as my other labors are relatively quick and uncomplicated. I was stressed out by the whole process by the end of Friday when labor stalled and nothing seemed to be happening. Saturday they unhooked me from the IV and allowed me to roam around and labor without being tied to the bed. I was able to get a lot of contractions going again and was hopeful. Later that afternoon though when we tried pitocin, it made my uterus contract violently and there continued to be no change in dilation. Overwhelmed and disappointed were thoughts that came to mind that afternoon. I was mentally and physically exhausted and I was starting to feel depressed.
When I awoke on Sunday (as if I really had gotten any sleep), we met with the doctor on call. Around 9 a.m. that doctor (who was very kind and calm) broke my water. It seems that I had dilated to 3 at some point after those three days of laboring off and on. When he broke my water you could see my belly deflate like a balloon. The fluid flooded the entire bed and some of the floor. If I could have captured the doctor's reaction to the amount of fluid you would maybe understand how those few minutes felt. I experienced immediate relief of the weight that I had been carrying around but I also felt guilty that the baby was now being forced out. Once my water broke, I knew time was literally ticking away and it wouldn't be very much longer. It is a little bit of a blur but I believe we tried pitocin once again and it sent me into violent contractions again. I starting losing blood and releasing clots. There was concern that my placenta was partially detached and each strong contraction could make it worse. They took me back off of pitocin. This is where I started getting emotional and cried. None of this journey was fair and now I'm having a complicated labor? I was getting angry and losing hope. I hated feeling so helpless especially knowing on top of everything else, my baby was going to die. I had to fight a battle in my own head just to stay at peace. At some point in the day the dreaded C-section conversation started and words like epidural (which I have never had) started coming up. Thanks to good advice and an open mind (and complete exhaustion), I said yes to the epidural. My body had a scary reaction to it so he removed it and placed it again in a different spot. I was too exhausted to even be scared. I just let it all happen and knew it wasn't in my hands. I felt a sense of peace I hadn't felt in a few days and it came just at the right time. The epidural relaxed my body to the point of letting me dilate to 6 by that evening. I remember hearing the news and then I knew a C-section was probably not going to happen, which lifted my spirits even more. We watched The Walking Dead and then I dozed off for a bit. My poor husband was probably more exhausted than I was. Neither of us had to ever spend this much time in a hospital room. We were ready to be home. After a couple of hours of sleep I awoke to strange feelings and asked the nurse to check on my progress. At around 1:15 a.m. I was finally ready to push so we called our family, a photographer (and friend) and after a few pushes Immy entered the world and was put right on my chest.
We marveled over her resemblance to Mazzy. She looked almost identical minus the obvious physical deformities. She never really took full breaths and her heart continued beating for 34 minutes. There is no doubt she didn't suffer for a minute and was so peaceful as she stayed close to my heart. She was 3 lbs. 14 ounces and almost 17 inches long. She had a few wisps of dark black hair near her neck and perfect little hands and feet. Our family was able to hold and snuggle her and I will always feel that her life in its simplicity and briefness was breathtaking to witness. Looking back, I have so many thoughts. She impacted us in a mighty way and I will never again be the person I once was...
I wrote this to her in my journal:
Imogen,
We may not get to experience the joy of bringing you home, but your spirit will always fill it.
You have taught us what unconditional love is, what it feels like and how to give it freely. Our ability to love has increased. We will never be who we once were. Your brief life has left an eternal mark on us.
You only knew love and loved you are. With everything in me you are loved.
Imogen taught me to love even when loss was imminent and even if disappointment was the end result. She showed me how her life mattered even if it was not lived for very long on this earth. She connected me with feelings I've never felt before. She filled in the cracks of my faith. My pregnancy was filled with both beauty and pain. And it was through this experience that I can say I understand how beautiful God's love is. I loved Imogen without condition and knowing she would never thrive in this life. Her existence was nothing short of love in its purest form and forever I will honor her life with mine.
Thank you Immy for teaching me about love.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Two out of three...
School started last month. The first day went smashingly and things seemed perfectly normal. Everyone was excited about starting a new school year and I was happy to be back at work. The second day was quite a different one. Remy was sent home sick and we assumed it was the flu. He was pale and didn't want to do much of anything. The following day I missed work to stay home with him and noticed some odd symptoms, including severe pain in his abdomen. I suspected appendicitis and hoped I was wrong. Turns out, I have pretty good intuition and we headed to the hospital with a note from our doctor. Remy had an appendectomy later that day. He spent another day in recovery and we were sent home. He had to miss two weeks of school and as soon as he returned to school we learned Phoenix would need his tonsils out as soon as possible. Oh boy!
So a week later surgery took place and another recovery began. It was hard to watch him go through such pain but with the shape his tonsils were in, it was really the only option. He had been so sick the last three years and those darn tonsils were very infected. The doctor was surprised he hadn't had them out sooner. I just wanted everyone under my roof to be healthy again.
Now both boys are back in school (as of today), and I am crossing my fingers and toes that the worst is over. I would like to avoid any further medical emergencies for the time being because pregnancy and stress do not mix! There was a moment where I had to laugh just to avoid crying the weekend before the tonsillectomy because Mazzy came down with a mysterious case of hives. After a few days they were gone but really? I almost thought we were going three for three.
And in lighter news... We may be finding out the baby's sex next week.
I am just under 16 weeks and although I am not quite halfway through this pregnancy, I know it will fly by. Maybe I will post some belly shots from my Instagram next time. I really look more like 5 or 6 months pregnant but if you know me, you know that is what usually happens. I wouldn't trade it for anything. I am treasuring every second of this pregnancy!
So a week later surgery took place and another recovery began. It was hard to watch him go through such pain but with the shape his tonsils were in, it was really the only option. He had been so sick the last three years and those darn tonsils were very infected. The doctor was surprised he hadn't had them out sooner. I just wanted everyone under my roof to be healthy again.
Now both boys are back in school (as of today), and I am crossing my fingers and toes that the worst is over. I would like to avoid any further medical emergencies for the time being because pregnancy and stress do not mix! There was a moment where I had to laugh just to avoid crying the weekend before the tonsillectomy because Mazzy came down with a mysterious case of hives. After a few days they were gone but really? I almost thought we were going three for three.
And in lighter news... We may be finding out the baby's sex next week.
I am just under 16 weeks and although I am not quite halfway through this pregnancy, I know it will fly by. Maybe I will post some belly shots from my Instagram next time. I really look more like 5 or 6 months pregnant but if you know me, you know that is what usually happens. I wouldn't trade it for anything. I am treasuring every second of this pregnancy!
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Summer shock
I've been quiet here. Not on purpose, because I've been busy. And not by accident because I wasn't sure what to write. But now I think I can muster up something to explain my absence.
We went on a lovely vacation to Oregon, Chico, CA (and a small part of Washington). It was a wonderful visit with friends and with my husband's family and we didn't want to come home. "Oregon is my jam" was a phrase I wrote on one of my instagram pics and I wasn't lying. But I was very tired on the trip and happily snuggled into my own bed upon our arrival home.
When we were planning our trip, I was eager to get out of town and out of my funk. For months I have been slipping into a semi-depression and I just wanted some new scenery. But a few weeks before we were going to leave I found out some rather shocking news. I was pregnant.
Yep, pregnant and completely shocked, even if we had been trying. I was hanging out with my kids at a cafe while my husband was out of town for a job and something told me to buy a pregnancy test. I had zero symptoms and was only one day late. I didn't even want to waste the energy it would take to drive to the store and buy one but I was compelled by the strange feeling in my gut. I did buy one and waited a couple of hours before testing. Not expecting anything other than that one sad little pink line, I turned away for a minute and then stared back at the test not really believing what I was seeing. In the last 16 months I had only tested a few times. At that point I hadn't tested in months. In that one moment I teared up and called my husband, who probably thought I was crazy.
I was excited and thankful and exhilarated but also very nervous and worried.
And here I am at nearly 12 weeks still very much thankful and very full of joy. So far the pregnancy has been pretty easy. Not too sick, just tired and the biggest problem is that I am eating like a teenager (okay, not quite that bad) but wanting to eat all day. Too bad I'm not craving spinach smoothies...
So there you have it. I had a pleasant shock in late June and I am still on cloud 9.
Baby is due in early March. Baby had a strong heartbeat a month ago and we are hoping to hear more of that beautiful sound tomorrow morning. Thanks to everyone who has sent me good thoughts and/or prayers these last few months. It means so much.
We went on a lovely vacation to Oregon, Chico, CA (and a small part of Washington). It was a wonderful visit with friends and with my husband's family and we didn't want to come home. "Oregon is my jam" was a phrase I wrote on one of my instagram pics and I wasn't lying. But I was very tired on the trip and happily snuggled into my own bed upon our arrival home.
When we were planning our trip, I was eager to get out of town and out of my funk. For months I have been slipping into a semi-depression and I just wanted some new scenery. But a few weeks before we were going to leave I found out some rather shocking news. I was pregnant.
Yep, pregnant and completely shocked, even if we had been trying. I was hanging out with my kids at a cafe while my husband was out of town for a job and something told me to buy a pregnancy test. I had zero symptoms and was only one day late. I didn't even want to waste the energy it would take to drive to the store and buy one but I was compelled by the strange feeling in my gut. I did buy one and waited a couple of hours before testing. Not expecting anything other than that one sad little pink line, I turned away for a minute and then stared back at the test not really believing what I was seeing. In the last 16 months I had only tested a few times. At that point I hadn't tested in months. In that one moment I teared up and called my husband, who probably thought I was crazy.
I was excited and thankful and exhilarated but also very nervous and worried.
And here I am at nearly 12 weeks still very much thankful and very full of joy. So far the pregnancy has been pretty easy. Not too sick, just tired and the biggest problem is that I am eating like a teenager (okay, not quite that bad) but wanting to eat all day. Too bad I'm not craving spinach smoothies...
So there you have it. I had a pleasant shock in late June and I am still on cloud 9.
Baby is due in early March. Baby had a strong heartbeat a month ago and we are hoping to hear more of that beautiful sound tomorrow morning. Thanks to everyone who has sent me good thoughts and/or prayers these last few months. It means so much.
Friday, June 6, 2014
Time Machine
I don't know why I'm pulling out the old photos today but I am, and I am probably going to have this nostalgic feeling hanging around me all day, but I can't help it.
I don't have babies anymore and I am starting to feel incredibly sad again.
I think looking at the old photos helps more than hurts. They serve as a reminder of how truly blessed I have been and am. These three little people (not so little anymore), will forever belong to me and hold special territory in my heart.
Before the littlest brother came along...
Phoenix enjoys the oldest kid gig, and he does a swell job at it.
These two will always have a special love/hate relationship. At nearly 2 years apart, they are basically attached at the hip.
To my friends with babies: you already know this but...enjoy every second.
At least he still snuggles with me. At 7, He still willingly gives hugs and kisses.
My favorite Christmas card photo to this day. No smiles. :)
...And I had to throw in one of my man and I.
Every day is better because he is in it.
I feel so blessed to belong to these people.
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Be more colorful.
When my daughter Mazzy was born, she was probably the grumpiest baby I had ever had the pleasure (ha!) of spending time with. Seriously though, I can't convey into words the amount of exhaustion I endured the first few months of her life. She hated baths, diaper changes, being held for too long, tummy time, etc... It was definitely a trying time for me and my husband. I remember having so little sleep I was hallucinating. But we pulled through and I managed to long for another child despite the colic and unrelenting mood swings of my infant.
Fast forward to a 12 month old Mazzy and it was like night and day! She was generally happy and elated at every simple thing she experienced. She was so snuggly and lovable and it almost made up for the previous bipolar baby she had been. And at around 18 months, her language skills exploded into four or five word sentences and words that were two and three syllables were clearly intelligible. It was quite the entertainment! And from that moment on, she has been a very loving and devoted daughter. She has been such an incredibly kind friend to everyone she meets and a wonderful example to myself, that a child's mind is a marvelous place. She constantly reminds me that magic still exists. And if you can't find it, you create it. And that is what she does.
A couple of Summers ago, Mazzy had a small growth removed from her lower cheek/ upper chin area. It was found to be an angioma. Around the same time, we discovered a few spots of lost pigment on her skin. It didn't alarm me but I kept a close watch on it. Within a few weeks, the pigment loss increased and I noticed a symmetrical pattern. In other words, if one spot of lost pigment was on her right arm, it was also in the same spot on her left arm. We went to her doctor and got the official diagnosis. She had vitiligo and there is no cure or any particular reason for her to have it. It could be genetic or just an autoimmune response. I have yet to take her to a dermatologist but that is mostly because at her young age, treatments are limited and I am not sure if the benefit outweighs the risks. We tried a gluten free diet but it didn't seem to make a difference. After reading up on the disease, I am sure we need to get her thyroid checked. I have a thyroid condition and I wouldn't be surprised if she has one as well. As I continue to look for more answers, I always make it a point to help her realize how incredibly beautiful she is. My husband and I are always reminding her that she is absolutely perfect in every way. And on most days she is a very confident young lady. She gets a lot of stares (mostly from adults) and she always handles questions or comments from other children with grace. It wasn't until recently that she started telling us that she "sometimes wished she didn't have vitiligo." Yet she remains positive through it all. So in an effort to further reinforce her amazing and unique beauty, I set out on a fun little photo shoot, just me and my girl, and we captured her true spirit, right before the sun was setting for the day.
My only wish for her and my other two children is to realize they are truly beautiful inside and out. That beauty isn't a size or a hairstyle, or flawlessness. Beauty isn't someone else's definition.
Fast forward to a 12 month old Mazzy and it was like night and day! She was generally happy and elated at every simple thing she experienced. She was so snuggly and lovable and it almost made up for the previous bipolar baby she had been. And at around 18 months, her language skills exploded into four or five word sentences and words that were two and three syllables were clearly intelligible. It was quite the entertainment! And from that moment on, she has been a very loving and devoted daughter. She has been such an incredibly kind friend to everyone she meets and a wonderful example to myself, that a child's mind is a marvelous place. She constantly reminds me that magic still exists. And if you can't find it, you create it. And that is what she does.
A couple of Summers ago, Mazzy had a small growth removed from her lower cheek/ upper chin area. It was found to be an angioma. Around the same time, we discovered a few spots of lost pigment on her skin. It didn't alarm me but I kept a close watch on it. Within a few weeks, the pigment loss increased and I noticed a symmetrical pattern. In other words, if one spot of lost pigment was on her right arm, it was also in the same spot on her left arm. We went to her doctor and got the official diagnosis. She had vitiligo and there is no cure or any particular reason for her to have it. It could be genetic or just an autoimmune response. I have yet to take her to a dermatologist but that is mostly because at her young age, treatments are limited and I am not sure if the benefit outweighs the risks. We tried a gluten free diet but it didn't seem to make a difference. After reading up on the disease, I am sure we need to get her thyroid checked. I have a thyroid condition and I wouldn't be surprised if she has one as well. As I continue to look for more answers, I always make it a point to help her realize how incredibly beautiful she is. My husband and I are always reminding her that she is absolutely perfect in every way. And on most days she is a very confident young lady. She gets a lot of stares (mostly from adults) and she always handles questions or comments from other children with grace. It wasn't until recently that she started telling us that she "sometimes wished she didn't have vitiligo." Yet she remains positive through it all. So in an effort to further reinforce her amazing and unique beauty, I set out on a fun little photo shoot, just me and my girl, and we captured her true spirit, right before the sun was setting for the day.
My only wish for her and my other two children is to realize they are truly beautiful inside and out. That beauty isn't a size or a hairstyle, or flawlessness. Beauty isn't someone else's definition.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
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