Mother-daughter book club

Last night CC and I went to our first mother-daughter book club discussion.  We met with four other mom-daughter combos, all girls around ten or eleven, fifth graders.  The moms, well once again, I was the youngest but that tends to be the case when you have a baby at 21!  We read Ella Enchanted and discussed it.  I can't tell you how much fun I had because I have no way to measure it but it was the best!  I loved hearing what my daughter thought, I loved the other girl's takes on this character of Ella and all the other players in the novel.  I read the book quickly, because CC took so long getting it to me. She tends to read several books at once, I am not sure how she manages to keep them all straight. I enjoyed reading this lighthearted fairytale adolescent book. Then our facilitator sent us discussion questions to mill over before the meeting and I wondered how I missed some of the major themes of the novel like feminism and forgiveness. Nonetheless, I enjoyed our book discussion, especially the speaking points of all the daughters. I am thankful that none of them know of broken hearts and revenge yet. I am thankful that all admired Ella's individuality and trueness to herself.

We are approaching middle school next year and I fret and worry about it. I have the most amazing daughter who strives to be good, is respectful and sorrowful when disobedient, is kind and moral. As she gets older I know she will face pressures and choices, some even more drastic and earlier than I did. I believe she has a good head and a caring heart and a strong moral backbone. I wonder how our relationship will change and when. But I loved last night, the first glimpses of her as CC the preteen in a social setting of girls. She held her own and she also reached out to new friends.

I know that CC looks like me but I have never felt that she was like me. She has always seemed so much better, more generous, more beautiful, more modest, more humble, more outgoing. Last night I saw firsthand someways she takes after me. Her love of reading, her ability to be kind to others, and the way she likes to keep people on track in discussion. It was textbook Christina. Anyone who has ever been in a discussion group with me knows what I am talking about. It was the cutest thing and yeah my sweet, beautiful redhead is a little like me. She inherited something besides my ability to slam a door when mad. Unlike me, she is always quick to admit her wrongdoing and apologize. So she will not be likely to spend most of her preteen years grounded for her attitude. Yeah!

I have many friends out there with daughters and I so recommend a mother-daughter book club. Start one, join one, or just start reading and discussing a book with your daughter.

Our next two books are Utterly Me, Clarice and Rules, if you have a preteen, read along with us! I am also reading with my 8 year old, Nancy Drew books are her favorite right now. She appreciates the one on one time and I love the moments I get to just sit with her curled up next to me.

Happy Reading and Happy Parenting~

Reflections on a Septmember Evening

Tonight I am thinking of a woman named Takara. I didn't know her well, I actually met her exactly a year ago today. She was a young woman, mid twenties, tall, blonde, beautiful. She was one of Little Man's many private care nurses in the Center Pod of the OSU- NICU. The Center Pod, where the micropreemies are, the pod of the nursery with preemies who were still on assisted breathing. Little Man was almost six weeks old; and on this night last year I watched my husband hold our son for the first time. It was such an incredible moment for us. Watching Crave hold our babies when they were first born is a moment I cherish so much. But with Little Man we didn't get that moment right after birth because both he and I were so very sick and unstable. And Little Man was so tiny, so fragile, so sick that we couldn't hold him for almost six weeks. We couldn't even do the kangaroo care they talk about so much with preemies. On this night last year, God gave us the gift of a beautiful young nurse who was so compassionate and considerate.
I had been in Columbus all week and Crave drove up that Friday afternoon, mom stayed with the girls. He met us at the NICU and we spent all evening in Center Pod with Little Man. Usually they have you leave for shift change for an hour but our nurse knew Crave was just arriving after being gone five days and so she let him stay. She did her hourly checks on our son but she didn't hover or intrude on us. She gave us privacy, so hard to find in the NICU. She didn't disturb us and when she did have to do Little Man's care, she didn't bother us with idle chit chat. She respected our time and our moments with our baby. I had held Little Man when Crave first arrived and the rule was that he could only be held for fifteen minutes once a day at that time, the standard protocol his doctors had decided upon. But that night Takara learned that Crave had not held his son yet and so she made some phone calls to the docs and they agreed that Little Man could be taken out of the incubator once again if he could keep up his oxygen levels and temps. And so I watched my husband, my best friend, hold our son for the first time. He was so very tiny in his daddy's big hand. The tears easily came because I was just so overcome with pride and honor. Crave is the most amazing father and he has always been moved to tears in the first moments of meeting our children, and with Little Man it took my breath away. All we had been through and those scary moments of his birth and the chaos of right after when he was whisked away to be hooked up to a ventilator and all that.  Crave went through that fear and chaos alone as he waited for word on me still unstable in surgery. I am so sad that he had to have his heart torn like that, that there wasn't peace when our son was born but emergency actions and no time for the normal bonding. And so this night last year was a beautiful emotional night of bonding. I remember looking in his eyes as he held our son and talked to him and just thanking God that we were both here and both getting to hold our son. That night we each held Little Man for almost a half hour. The doctors came down and talked to us about how he would soon move to the step down nursery and would be weaned off the extra breathing help. He would soon become just a feeder/grower preemie, what they label babies who don't have any health concerns but just gaining weight. We were so hopeful and we stayed very late that night in the NICU.

Takara let us participate fully in his care, which wasn't the case a lot of the time in the Center Pod. The nurses could be territorial and it was a strange place to be in as a mother. The care I am talking about besides medicines and checking his vitals and tube placements is diaper changes and moistening his mouth where the tubes and tape are, things like that. Now I would love for someone to come change his poopy, yucky diapers, back then it was the only thing I could do. But you would have to let the nurse know you wanted to do it. I would leave notes everywhere, please let me change his diaper, please let me wipe his mouth, wipe his eyelids, let me change his tape or his placement. Please please let me do something! Most of Caleb's nurses, especially those at OSU, were wonderful but there were a few who would rather just do it themselves. It was either more convenient, quicker, or sometimes they were just territorial and that was a hard thing to deal with. I hated having to be buzzed in by a security guard and then having to ask his nurse if I could come back to see my son everytime I wanted to see him. Often I would be there all day but not leave to pee, TMI, I know, but I just didn't want to have to go through the security process over. Not because I didn't appreciate the security features it was just jarring to have to go through all that to see your baby. I hated having to call and talk to a stranger to get updates on my son the times I couldn't be with him. I would call and the nurse would either be wonderful or infuriating. Those that gave me his vitals and conditions right away, I loved. Those that said silly things about how cute he was I wanted to verbally abuse. Harsh, I know, what mother doesn't want to hear her baby is cute? The mother who would rather know how many times her son stopped breathing today and if he needed any blood transfusions. So that was my constant battle with nurses, mostly in my own head and heart. The admittance that someone else was taking care of my son when I couldn't, that someone else knew more about him than I did. Also, the constant need to get permission to interact with my son, to be admitted to his pod, to touch him, turn his lights on or off, hold him, change his diaper,it was infuriating and depressing.I should not have to ask permission to see my son! Sometimes when I was finally able to hold Little Man the nurse would ask that I wait until after lunch or whatever and since I needed help with disconnecting his tubes and stuff I was dependant on them. But I learned how to effectively communicate and become an advocate, effectively communicate, what a grown up thing!
I remember a few other nurses from our stay there; some for good reasons, some for their bad attitude, but none stand out as much as Takara. Partly because of the momentous night she was part of, that first beautiful sight of my husband holding his son. Partly because she was striking, beautiful, compassionate and had an unusual name just like my Senny. And partly because the next day our worlds crashed and she was a calming force of information for me.
You see the next morning, Sept. 27 was Crave's birthday. Since we had such a great night with Little Man and it was Crave's birthday we decided to go out to breakfast and visit with our son after the Buckeye game day traffic died down a little. We wanted Little Man to have time to rest because we had stimulated him a lot with our visit the night before and he was still so sensitive to lights, sounds, movement and touch. But early that morning we got a phone call from the transport team from Children's requesting permission to transport our now unstable son to their hospital immediately for a consult with surgeons. We were urged to come quickly to the hospital because our baby was gravely ill. He had internal bleeding they could not pinpoint and other serious issues. We tried to hurry there but traffic was bad. When we arrived we still hadn't received a thorough explanation of what was wrong or what the next step would be. Little Man also had not arrived and wouldn't arrive for another hour but all they would tell us was that he wasn't stable enough to transport. We tried to get info from the new hospital, the nurse's station, the attending at OSU, the resident on call. No one could tell us anything new. So I went out on the green lawn and sat on the ground and prayed and cried. I wanted answers, it was a weekend, everyone had their head in their asses, people were watching the buckeyes in the on call room, I was so frustrated. Then I thought to call the direct nurse line to Center pod at OSU and I asked if Takara was still on. Her shift was over at 7 am but she had stayed hours after, until our son was in the ambulance en route. She told me they had just put him in the ambulance and she told me everything she knew. She told me they had to bag him before they left, that he had needed a platelet transfusion and that they believed his liver was now the problem and she was so detailed and kind. We knew more after my five minute conversation with her than we had all morning.

Little Man was very sick when we were finally reunited. He stopped breathing and turned blue right in front of us. I will never forget it. I used to be an EMT, I don't panic in life or death situations. I have done CPR. But when he stopped breathing I panicked, my world stopped and all I could do was scream for help and then berate them for leaving him alone not hooked up to monitors when he was so sick. And that stared my introduction to the NICU staff at Children's. It didn't get much better but that is ok. We are home now, I can say it is ok now. Little Man is doing quite well. It is hard to believe it has been a year, this week it has all felt very fresh again. I guess some moments in life just stick with you.
But I have also realized that some people stick with you too. And so I am trying to be more mindful of my behaviors and attitudes and words. You never know the impact you are making on someone else. You also don't always know what someone else is walking through at any given moment. We aren't alone in this world, our actions can hinder or help others. Tonight I am thankful for Takara. I am also thankful for all of the staff who took care of my son when I couldn't, those who saved his life, guarded his life, impacted my life and the lives of my family. I am trying to focus on the image of Crave holding his son for the first time and the sights of him now playing with Little Man and the awesome interaction of father and son. They are definately making up for lost bonding time. I am not sure I will ever get the images out of my head of my baby so sick but I am thankful that I now have many more images I can pull out of my memory bank. Those horrible, scary, jarring moments in the NICU are a part of our family's story but I am glad we are moving on. I am trying to hold on to the lessons I learned in the NICU and letting go everything else that holds me back or shatters my peace.
I hope tomorrow we can celebrate Jason's birthday as a family living in hope and IN THE NOW. Because really, Crave isn't getting any younger is he? ha I love you Ja.

I love Erma Bombeck, I have read her stuf since high school.  I remember once when CC was a baby, I checked out every book the library had that was authored by her.  I laughed and cried and filed away so many great tips and anectodes.  Recently this writing by her came across my path again and although it stings a little it also rings with truth for me.  I hope by posting it you get a little more insight into my mother's heart and also find a deeper appreciation for a great writer.

THE SPECIAL MOTHER by Erma Bombeck

Most women become mothers by accident, some by choice, a few by social pressures, and a couple by habit.  This year, nearly 100,000 women will become mothers of handicapped children. Did you ever wonder how mothers of handicapped children are chosen?

Somehow, I visualize God hovering over Earth selecting His instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation. As He observes, he instructs His angels to make notes in a giant ledger.

"Armstrong, Beth: son. Patron saint, Matthew. Forest, Marjorie: daughter; patron saint Cecilia.

"Rutledge, Carrie: twins. Patron saint....give her Gerard. He's used to profanity.

"Finally, He passes a name to an angel and smiles. "Give her a handicapped child.

"The angel is curious. "Why this one, God? She's so happy."

"Exactly," says God. "Could I give a child with a handicap to a mother who does not know laughter? That would be cruel."

"But does she have patience?" asks the angel.

"I don't want her to have too much patience, or she will drown in a sea of self-pity and despair. Once the shock and resentment wear off, she'll handle it."

"But Lord, I don't think she even believes in you."

God smiles. "No matter, I can fix that. This one is perfect. She has just enough selfishness."

The angel gasps. "Selfishness? Is that a virtue?"

God nods. "If she can't separate herself from the child occasionally, she'll never survive. Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect. She doesn't realize it yet, but she is to be envied."

"She will never take for granted a spoken word. She will never consider a step ordinary. When her child says 'Momma' for the first time, she will be witness to a miracle and know it! When she describes a tree or a sunset to her blind child, she will see it as few people ever see my creations."

"I will permit her to see clearly the things I see- ignorance, cruelty, prejudice- and allow her to rise above them. She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life because she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side."

"And what about her patron saint?" asks the angel, his pen poised in mid-air.

God smiles. "A mirror will suffice

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I am waiting for the miracle of hearing my son say, "Momma"  or "Dadda"  or anything.  I am waiting for those first steps.  I think I go back and forth between shock and disappointment to self-loving and self-loathing.  But I can also say I see small things with such a spirit of gratitude and accomplishment nowdays.  I am no where close to a patron saint and I havent even fully accepted or adapted to my role as a special needs mom.  But I love how the author states "she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side."  I have been trusted with the lives of precious children and I do view it as my life's work.  I try to do it well, with humor and grace and love.  I definately do not always succeed but I am examining this new word, CAPABLE.  I am trying it on, seeing how it feels, making a few adjustments but I think I am going to go with it. 

Hold On

     As a wife and a mother of four children, I often feel as though I am saying, "Hold on." Just today I probably said it ten times in the span of a few hours. With homework, dinner prep and clean up, pet duties, and a baby wanting his demands met immediately, that phrase was used repeatedly, sometimes mumbled, sometimes almost shouted; as one child calls out for toilet paper down the hall, the other has a question about her math homework. Next, a dog barking for his piece of dinner as a husband searches for a lost sock needed desperately that evening. Perhaps I should have a t-shirt made with these words but then how would the person on the phone and the person ringing the doorbell hear me? Crazy chaos is my life at times, and that is just in the daily shuffle. My mantra of "Hold on" has helped hold off the chaos or helped to manage it at least. As long as one hears hold on, they know his or her needs will at some point be met and disaster and freak outs are sometimes avoided. I know at times my children and my husband, even the dog and cat, dont want to hear my requests to wait. They dont want their immediate need shelved or not prioritized. And at moments it is hard to determine which person, which need gets answered first. The need for toilet paper? A basic need but it is keeping my four year old confined and sitting still, it can wait a minute. The need to feed the barking dog or answer the perfectionist child on the verge of homework meltdown; the need to find the sock or let the husband remain sockless and perhaps learn to not ball his socks up and throw them under the bed?  Which need do you answer first?  Yes, some things I guess already have a priority spotlight!

     For me though, in the last year of my life, of my mothering and marriage relationship, I have learned an even deeper aspect of "Hold On."   My needs were bigger than a roll of toilet paper or a minute's peace to answer the phone. My sweet precious baby son fought to survive and grow. My lovely daughters struggled to cope without parents physically with them. My husband and I had to wait to hold our son, care for our son. We also had to wait to visit him, and wait to hear of his diagnosis and test results. We also had to wait to see if he would respond to medicines. At times, we even had to wait to see if he would live, if he would survive the next minute, the next hour, the night, the weekend. At moments we watched as machines breathed for him, as donated blood flowed into him, as others tried to revive him. In those moments, it seemed as time stood still. The moments when we prayed, "Breathe Caleb, heart  beat, platelets produce, stomach please work." In those moments we had to hold on. Hold on and wait as time slowly ticked, as moments became hours and days. And also hold on to more unexplainable yet tangible things. Holding on to the promises of God for a son, holding on to the hope of a God who heals, holding on to a faith that sustains, holding on to a belief in modern day medicine, holding on to the peace that a greater power, a loving creator God is in control. Those lessons were not easy, and sometimes I still chafe at how I had to learn those lessons. But the end result, the outcome for me is a beautiful work in progress. I can say, "Hold on a minute to my children,"  but I can also say, "Hold on to God."  No, I dont think God is going to drop a roll of toilet paper out of the sky. Wouldnt that just scare the cr#* out of you! But I do believe He still provides peace and hope and fortitude and many every day blessings and guidance. So each day I try to hold on to those things. I will let you know if ever the toilet paper drops too!