November, 2009

Now We Are One — 3 Comments
15
Nov 09

Moving a Co-Sleeping Toddler to His Own Bed: Day 2

WRITTEN ON OCT. 1, 2009

Two nights ago I did something I never thought I woiuld do. I put my 17 month old co-sleeping, breastfed, feed-on-demand firstborn baby in his crib. It was a little after 4 am and he had been up all night, crying to nurse (we’re in the middle of weaning) and having temper tantrums. These nighttime jags have been going on for well over 3 weeks now, every night. ALLL night. We had been losing so much sleep it was ridiculous. What was strange was that even when he was a newborn we never had troubles at night with Jack-Evan. He’s always been the perfect sleeper, never even crying a bit at night!

Something had to give.

And give it did. You can read about the entire experience here. But if you’re just browsing and don’t care to read deeper, here’s the short form – my son is weaning since I’m pregnant with #2 and began to dry up. Daytime weaning is pretty much done, but night time weaning is a booger. He’s been waking up every 15 minutes begging to nurse. After a 3 hour final “battle” I picked him up, walked into his room, put him in his crib at 4:15 am (two nights ago), and there he stayed until 8:30 am. Cry? Oh yes. He howled like a pack of wolves under a full moon for 2 whole hours.  I cried about that long too.

But as I said, something had to give.

Yesterday morning, upon gathering my very-happy-to-see-mommy son from his crib, I knew that our family situation was about to change forever. Co-sleeping was never something I planned to last permanently (heaven forbid we still co-sleep in high school!), but still, he’s only 17 months old now. He’s still my baby…my first born…my current only. My heart.

Yet it was time. He was no longer happy in our big king size bed. He was getting very little sleep, Mommy was getting very little sleep, and poor Daddy (who gets up at 5 am for work) was the most unfortunate of all of us. My mommy instincts told me it was time to move on in life and that Jack-Evan was ready for his own space.

By himself.

When my husband Kevin arrived home from work last night, I had a talk with him over dinner about the changes that needed to take place. He was completely on board with it all (especially since it meant he would get a full nights rest again soon).  Plus we both hated to see our little boy so unhappy!

Later on, when it was time for bed, we gathered Jack-Evan up, gave him his bath, brushed his teeth, put on his pajamas, read him a story….

Then laid him in “Jack’s new bed!”. We also handed him the “new NU NU” (what we call a bottle of milk…since Jack-Evan called nursing “nu nu”).

Beside his crib was a blow up mattress and my own pillow where I planned to sleep (for at least a week).

Just as I thought, Jack-Evan threw a huge tantrum. But contrary to my other thought, this one only lasted 30 minutes! As I lay there on the floor in the dim Winnie-The-Pooh nightlight glow, I ignored my screaming son, with just an occasional ”Mommy’s here, Mommy loves you” to reassure him he wasn’t alone. It was hard, but at least with each passing minute I knew we were marching towards a new stage in life.

Finally the room grew quiet, with the exception of a fan we always have going for “white noise”. It was only 30 minutes into this new lifestyle change…and he was already asleep.

It took me a good 2 more hours to fall asleep. Afterall, having slept 17 months snuggled close to my child and the 9 months before that with my child snuggled inside of me, things seemed a bit odd.  But I finally fell asleep.

This morning as the 8 am sunlight streamed into the room, I heard a tiny “Mama? Maaaama?”. I turned over and there he was, looking at me through the bars of his crib.  Awake and happy.  I realized with a start that he had slept the entire night without waking.

My instincts were right….It was time for change, and we had now survived the first full night of the transition.

Now We Are One — No Comments
14
Nov 09

Moving a Co-Sleeping Toddler to His Own Bed: Day 1

WRITTEN ON SEPT. 30, 2009

Well.  I did it.

I never thought I would.  But I did.

I just. couldn’t. take. it. a.n.y.m.o.r.e.!

Last night was the worst night we’ve had since Jack-Evan was born.  Even through his 2 colds and the reflux when he was tiny, we didn’t have nights like this.

It all started out normal.  Well, about as normal as any night this month has been.  Sometime between 9 and 10 pm, our normal bedtime, we prepared for bed and laid down with Jack-Evan.  For the 5th night in a row I refused to let him nurse before falling asleep….and ohhhh what a howl he let out.  It had to be the mother of all temper tantrums.

Finally, I’m not sure how, but he managed to fall asleep, as did both of us.

And all was quiet as a mouse…until 1 am.

That’s when he woke up for the first time.  After refusing him “nu nu” (his word for nursing) yet again, he then refused to sleep.  For the next 3 hours we battled in between snatches of sleep here and there.  He wouldn’t accept anything else, not his sippy cup, no water, no bottle, no milk.  He wanted his NU NU and nothing else would satisfy.  At no point did we get more than 5 minutes of sleep at a time last night.

Mommy just wanted sleep and no more sore bosoms.

Battling between my intuition and my logic, I refused to let him get on up to “play”.  After all, wouldn’t that be considered “rewarding” him for waking up and throwing temper tantrums?  I remembered all of the “words of advice” I’d read over the years about how you should hold your child, rock him, sing songs, comfort him, and show him how much he’s loved – and POOF!  - all would be well.

Weeeellll…all was not well.

My son is not one for basic comforting when he’s upset.  Touching him during a tantrum or howling mode only makes him angry.  Rocking will not suffice because that involves touching.  And singing sweet soothing songs?  Fuggitaboooutit!  Any sound that came out of my mouth, at any point, made him scream at 500 decibels louder than my own voice was.

So there we were, mom & son, battling in a huge king size bed in the dark, catching short snatches of sleep here and there.  I would lay him down in the middle, he would pop back up.  I would pull my shirt down, he would try to pull it back up yelling NU NU!!! at the top of his lungs.  He would pound my chest, I would hold his hands and lay him back down.  Back up he popped.  A few times he climbed on Daddy, hoping Daddy would wake up and force Mommy to comply to his wishes.

Daddy woke up, opened one eye, turned over and pulled the covers over his head.  But that’s about it.

By 4:15 am I had about all my frazzled mommy nerves could take.  And I did it.  Something I never in a million years thought that I, as a semi-attachment, breast-feeding, co-sleeping, easy going, baby-wearing parent, would do.

I picked up him, walked to his room, placed him in his crib, said goodnight, turned around….and walked out.

As I laid down, the house reverberated with my poor little son’s pitiful howls.  I knew he was safe.  I knew there was no danger.  Yet my heart about gave out on me.  Never in my life had I thought I’d be on a mission to just let him “cry it out”.  My mind raged with thoughts of scarring my son for life because of what I had just done.  Would he ever forgive me?  Would this ruin any chances of him ever living a normal existence?  Would he end up in therapy one day uttering to his psychologist from a couch, “Why yes, there was this one horrific moment in my childhood when it all started…”

But that’s exactly what I did.   I just let him cry it out.   As I pulled the covers over my head, I half dozed for the next 2 hours half while listening to my firstborn’s wails.  The wails of a 17 month old child who had never slept a night further than 6 inches from me. Nevermind that Jack-Evan’s room door is only 18 inches perpendicular from ours.  At least Kevin was able finally able to get an hours rest before heading off to work, considering that Jack was now crying in another room instead of directly into his Dad’s right ear.

Finally, by 6:30 am, I suddenly realized the house was quiet.  Slowly I crept out of bed, tiptoeing, lest any small floor creak would send Jack-Evan into banshee scream mode again.  Peeking out of our room door and into his, I saw his little tiny tired frame, sitting up on his pillow, staring out the window.  He was, at least, quiet now.

I crept back to bed and laid down, falling asleep until 8:30 am when I heard a tiny voice quietly utter “Mum Mum?”.  I hopped up, ran into the room to my baby, picked him up and enjoyed a 5 minute bear hug from his tiny arms.

I could sense a new era was already dawning in our development as a family.  It was a change I wasn’t emotionally prepared for, yet I had always known the day would eventually come.  My gut instinct let me know it’s finally time.

Tonight, we begin a new bedtime routine, one which involves separate beds…and separate rooms.

Pregnancy — 3 Comments
13
Nov 09

Prenatal Appt #1: Tour of Birthing Center

APPOINTMENT DATE: OCT. 6

Ever since I was 6 months pregnant with Jack-Evan, I have wanted to use a mid-wife – specifically one at a Christian Birthing Center about 4 miles away from my home. My heart was set on it.

I had such a terrible experience with prenatal care with my 1st pregnancy that I felt there must be something better out there, right??

I’m not really into the homebirth, all natural, endure the pain aspect of childbirth, especially after enduring horrendous “crowning” pain even with an epidural last time. So my plan was to use the birthing center for prenatal care, and then have the midwife join me at our local hospital up the road from the center. After all, their website had said, “Whether home birth, birth at our center, or hospital birth….”

Seemed simple enough.

So on Oct. 6, at 4:00 pm, my parents loaded up with me in the car to head to my scheduled tour at the birthing center. Dad would watch the baby, while mom went on the tour with me. Kevin wanted to be there so badly, but he couldn’t get off of work.

Walking in the center, I was comforted by the sights, smell, and homey charm of the place. Surely this was the place for me!

After filling out the paperwork, the main midwife joined me.  Her plan was to catch me up with the current tour already in session.  We began talking, and I mentioned I would be having a hospital birth.

And that’s when she dropped the bombshell on me.

They have “no jurisdiction to perform a birth at the hospital”.   WHAT??   In other words, if I used the birthing center midwife for prenatal care, and then gave birth at the hospital like I wanted, she would not be able to attend the birth.

Now, if you can imagine, think about what it feels like to be a child wanting an ice cream cone.  You picture that ice cream cone all day long.  Your parents promise you an ice cream cone all day.  You hear the bells of the ice cream truck coming past your home.  Running outside with your money, all hot and sweaty from playing, you ask for a strawberry ice cream cone.

“Sorry, we’re fresh out of ice cream,” says he.

Imagine the shock.  Imagine the disappointment.  An ice cream truck with no ice cream??

A MIDWIFE WHO COULDN’T ATTEND A HOSPITAL BIRTH?

I was devastated.  I had psyched myself up for using this birthing center for over 2 years.  I had promised myself, during my prenatal visits with Jack-Evan that ONE day, some day, I would be able to use that wonderful, homey looking, Christian birthing center.

And now I was hearing that I couldn’t unless I went all-natural and gave birth IN the center itself.

So right there in the hallway, I began to cry.  I couldn’t help it, emotional pregnant hormonal lady that I was.  How embarrassing!  But I couldn’t stop.  In between heaves, she pulled me into the examining room and coaxed my history out of me, and the story behind why I wanted to use them.  I told her of all the mistakes the other doctor’s office had made in my first pregnancy prenatal care.  I told her of how they had blamed me when they forgot the 20 week anatomy scan (and didn’t discover the error until I was 30 weeks).  I told her how I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes after failing the hour test by only 4 points and then vomiting within 10 minutes of the 3 hour test.  And how I was given absolutely no support after this diagnosis and simply told “not to worry about it”.  I also explained how at 32 weeks, I went in for a required “stress test” because of the gestational diabetes and forced to stay for 4 days in the hospital on a medicinal drip, being told I was going into premature labor.  I did not dilate any during this time and felt absolutely no contractions.  I knew the baby wasn’t coming!  Yet because the monitor detected “faint” contractions, they decided what was best.  I also told her how, after the 4 day hospital stay, the on-call doctor (the same one who eventually attended my birth at 40 weeks) reviewed my charts and said I should NOT have been diagnosed with full gestational diabetes.

I then explained to the midwife how at 10 pm the night I gave birth the on-call doctor walked in the room and TOLD me they were now starting pitocin drip.    I said absolutely NOT!   I was already 8 cm’s dilated at that time (I progressed a little under a CM each hour).  I was progressing just fine by myself, thankyouverymuch.

He just shrugged, while he and the nurse exchanged annoyed looks, and said “I’ll be back at midnight and we’ll decide then.”

HELLO!  Over here!!  Angry laboring lady here in the bed…I SAID I do NOT want pitocin!  I’ve heard way too many horror stories (and known of 2 personally) where the effects of pitocin were terrible and many have resulted in a C-Section.  There was absolutely no medical reason for me to have that dripping in my poor laboring body.  I was progressing just fine in all aspects and even with the epidural in me, I could feel the pressure of each contraction just fine.

I was fully dilated within 2 hours (by 12:15 am) and gave birth to Jack at 2:04 am (May 4, 2008).  Yet to this day I do not know if they started the pitocin without me being aware of it.  They could have put anything into that IV drip if they had so desired, especially since they acted all night as if I had no right to choose how my birth progressed

I also told the midwife how excruciatingly painful the actual crowning and birth was, even considering I had an epidural.  It was such horrendous pain that I felt as if I had exited this world and entered the pits of hell itself.  Surely if childbirth hurt that bad WITH an epidural, how could I endure a non-medicated childbirth?

Then the midwife started in on how childbirth is “pressure” and not really “pain” and it’s all in perception.

And I could have slapped her.  Really.  I know the difference between pressure and pain.  It was pain.  There’s no way around it….knife stabbing, fire burning, skin tearing, gut wrenching, haul your heart to Davy Jones Locker kinda of pain.

After about 40 minutes of standing there explaining my story to the midwife, I felt somewhat better.  I wanted to use this center for prenatal care so badly, and the midwife was far more comforting and pleasant than any other medical professional I had encountered.  So, I continued with the rest of the tour.

The center was beautiful.  There were two appointment rooms that looked like a regular OBGYN appointment room.  Then there were 2 birthing suites that were just gorgeous.  The first had a lovely kingsize bed, couch, mood lighting, stereo hookups for your ipod, gripp bar for laboring when standing, and a soothing water fountain.  In the attached bathroom was a huge jetted mood-light jacuzzi for birthing.  The 2nd Queen size room had all of the same amenities, but was even more beautiful!

Down the hall was a gorgeous restroom for family, a main kitchen, a library stocked with educational birthing materials (books, videos, etc.) you could check out for free, as well as a large conference room for the various educational classes they held.

After the tour, Kevin arrived for the main consultation, while my Mom & Dad took Jack-Evan back to their house.  During the consultation, the midwife spent over 60 minutes reviewing center rules, standards, menu recommendations, appointment layout, pricing, and other various little tidbits, including some samples of raspberry flavored Vitamin C powder.   I also took a few moments to show Kevin around the center as well.

Upon paying our $50 consultation fee, I was given 2 recommendation sheets for other clinics because the birthing center outsourced all ultrasounds and labwork.  The birthing center fees, as I just found out, did not cover the outsourced fees.  Those would need to be paid directly to the other clinics out of pocket, and a few days later I would need to have an ultrasound for dating purposes since I could not remember when my LMP was.  I would also have to have full blood work done as well.

Finally everything was completed and we said our goodbyes to the midwife.

Kevin & I left the center that night around 7 pm, full of excitement about using such a wonderful, caring place for our 2nd pregnancy.  I even psyched myself up into a state where I began to think I could endure a non-medicated waterbirth considering all of the amenities I would have at my disposal – not to mention the wonderful midwife we had just bonded with.  After all, I would have 9 months to practice the different techniques, calm my nerves, and instill in myself a sense of confidence that my body could do what it was designed to do.  Perhaps, after 9 months of wonderful caring prenatal care, I would be fully capable of having that really cool water birth.  Perhaps, just perhaps, after 9 months of getting to know the same woman and knowing that in all likely hood she would be at the birth as well (something I didn’t experience with my first pregnancy as I had a different person for every visit), that I would be capable of having the waterbirth.

I could definitely do this.

Or could I?

Now We Are One — 1 Comment
13
Nov 09

Moving a Co-Sleeping Toddler to His Own Bed: Prologue

WRITTEN ON SEPT. 29, 2009

The past month has been horrendous!  We’ve been trying to wean Jack-Evan from daytime breastfeeding since the beginning of September. He’s nearly 17 months old now, and although I had planned to go longer, my body is just giving out.  Since we learned of baby #2 a couple weeks ago (Sept. 15), I’ve also begun weaning him from nighttime feedings (we co-sleep). It’s just not in me to produce enough energy to make a new baby and to keep nursing a toddler. I’m giving out…drying up…withering away. Or at least, well, it feels like that. Plus it’s beginning to hurt.

The daytime weaning is semi “ok”. Jack still cries a bit when I deny him, but not as loud or as often anymore as he did in the beginning.  A few weeks ago, you would have thought the world just ended based on the howl he would let out upon hearing “no!”.   Now, however, it’s the night time that we’re having troubles with. For the past few weeks, Jack-Evan has been waking up more than 4 times per night – every night! – crying for “Nu Nu” (his word for nursing).  Of course, when I deny him, it gets reeeealllly bad.   Then he’s up, trying to crawl over the king size bed, bopping his poor daddy in the nose, and refusing to go to sleep.  He can’t be comforted, he can’t be consoled, he won’t be touched.  All he wants is his nu-nu, and he can’t understand why I’m no longer giving in…especially since he’s demand fed his whole life.

I’m just tired.  Kevin’s tired (he gets up at 5 am to head to work).

Jack-Evan is tired.

Something has got to be done.

Soon.