So today we had our 3rd of 4 visits for the testing for Bug. We had the kick off parent only and 2 visits where Bug completed 3 hours of testing each time. On the 22nd we go in to have another parent only visit to go over initial findings. Then an appointment with her ped psych in early February to figure out what we want to do for sure.
So her testing appointment started today at 9am. So by the time we finished and had lunch, it was 1:00. I decided to keep her home with me and give her a day with just us.
Boy, was that a mistake. By the time we got Bubba home and were having dinner (leftovers), I was eating grapes for dinner. Fermented grapes. From a bottle.
And I was in tears. I curled up with my little guy while I cried and he patted my back to comfort me.
Everything was a fight. The doc gave me one page of 'homework' and it was simple stuff, finish the sentence kind of stuff. Like 'when I eat, I...' or 'I'm happy when....' or 'when i go to bed, I....' and EVERYTHING was I don't know. I tried to talk to her about taking her time, and thinking about it, and giving me the first thing that comes to mind... but she kept at it. So I said we'd do it later. That turned in to a fit by her.
Once that happened everything fell apart. We couldn't get her actual homework done. She wouldn't take a bath. It ended with her throwing pencils, stabbing the table with said pencil prior to throwing, and eventually me putting her in time out in her room in with both of us in tears. It didn't get any better. She ended up taking a nap and woke up just as bad off as before going to sleep. Tears happened again. It was horrible.
So her homework is going back to school tomorrow, unfinished, with a note. The other one will go back to the doctor, unfinished.
And sadly, this all overshadows the 2 fun things that happened since my last post.
First, Bubba turned 5 on Monday. 5!!! I can't believe how he's gotten so big. How has my baby grown up so much so fast? He's been in preschool at the school system since September, and he goes to Kindergarten in the fall. It's insane. He's in glasses now. He looks so grown up!
And last month? I graduated with my MBA, with a focus in finance. It was a long 3 1/2 years. It was hard, and stressful. But it's done. Thankfully. Now to relax for a bit, focus on getting through things like boxes that are hiding in the garage, and cleaning up the desk that just holds crap. Then, I'm not sure what. Focus on my kids. Take care of Bug and figure everything out. Spend some time focusing on Bubba, who we figured out has some allergies on top of the serious need for glasses, and we are beginning to wonder about ADHD for him as well.
Life will go on.
Thursday, January 11, 2018
Friday, October 6, 2017
Neuro Psych Testing
So last summer we had bug see a counselor. The match wasn't there, so a few visits in and we stopped going. This past summer we tried a pediatric psychologist and the match was much better. After some questionnaires, talking to us, and a handful of visits with Bug, she felt that Bug exhibited ADHD, Anxiety and Depression.
School started, and she went to her 7 year well check, a month after her birthday. K took her while I worked, and he called me after. He said she wasn't being bad during the visit, but was being 'her' and it drove the ped to start asking questions. The questions led him to discussing anxiety with K, to which he filled the ped in on our summer with the Psychologist.
The ped asked if we would ever consider medicating. We have been, well, not in a rush to consider doing that. It's not that we are against it, but it worries us when it comes to her age, and how it can affect her long term, how it can affect her young brain. He asked us to consider talking to a pediatric psychiatrist. The one thing that drove us to consider was he explained that with something like anxiety in a young child medication can help by helping to calm them and teach them coping skills before they become teenagers.
We decided to go ahead and meet with a ped psychiatrist, to hear it out. Rehashing everything over and over is hard. She was great, she was concerned, she listened and heard. She actually told me that we had been dealing with a whole lot, and that she was sorry that no one had listened to us, or done anything beyond what had happened so far. So agreed with the psychologist, she advised that Bug had almost all the markers for anxiety and ADHD. She said she wasn't giving the official diagnosis just yet as she wanted Bug to get Neuro Psych testing to rule out other behavioral health issues, including Autism. She doesn't feel that she has Autism but wants to rule it out, and if she does, she's very high functioning.
She thinks that prior doctors that we've tried to talk to (including a developmental neurologist) tried to look at just what 'they' deal with, and not the entire picture.
So we agreed to the testing. As she was giving us the paperwork for it, advising on next visit, and giving us some questionnaires to fill out, she also asked us to consider medication.
The testing comes in 4 parts; the first and last are parent only meetings. The second and third are 2 sessions of 3 hour testing with a 10-15 minute break in the middle. The initial first visit was going to be in March 2018, but we managed to fill in a cancellation and that first visit is now December 11.
Medication scares me. I don't want my 7 year old daughter to become numb. I don't want her to lose her spunk, lose her stubbornness, lose the person she really is, deep down inside. I want to help her, I want to help us and try to get everyone some sanity back. I want to see the little girl that she is 85% of the time instead of only 15% of the time. I want that smile, that goofiness, that love that shines from her. But I don't want to numb her.
And once we get the official diagnosis we will need to update her IEP. I need to make sure she gets everything she needs.
So now we have a monthly psychiatry appointment and a monthly GI appointment for her encopresis. Which we are getting ready to do a clean out this weekend, along with a specialized X-ray called a sitz marker test, and likely some blood work.
All in my last semester of my MBA. I'm struggling. I'm feeling very overwhelmed. Life is hard right now, and we are trying to balance it all.
And poor Bubba, he just deals with all of this. And in the midst of it all we got a call from the school (he is in the preschool program in our school system as a typical peer) that he failed 2 vision tests. They go down to 20-35 for preschool, and both times he couldn't make it past 20-50 in his left eye. So an eye appointment is set up for a few weeks from now.
But we are hanging in there. We will get there. Life will continue on and we will push through it all.
School started, and she went to her 7 year well check, a month after her birthday. K took her while I worked, and he called me after. He said she wasn't being bad during the visit, but was being 'her' and it drove the ped to start asking questions. The questions led him to discussing anxiety with K, to which he filled the ped in on our summer with the Psychologist.
The ped asked if we would ever consider medicating. We have been, well, not in a rush to consider doing that. It's not that we are against it, but it worries us when it comes to her age, and how it can affect her long term, how it can affect her young brain. He asked us to consider talking to a pediatric psychiatrist. The one thing that drove us to consider was he explained that with something like anxiety in a young child medication can help by helping to calm them and teach them coping skills before they become teenagers.
We decided to go ahead and meet with a ped psychiatrist, to hear it out. Rehashing everything over and over is hard. She was great, she was concerned, she listened and heard. She actually told me that we had been dealing with a whole lot, and that she was sorry that no one had listened to us, or done anything beyond what had happened so far. So agreed with the psychologist, she advised that Bug had almost all the markers for anxiety and ADHD. She said she wasn't giving the official diagnosis just yet as she wanted Bug to get Neuro Psych testing to rule out other behavioral health issues, including Autism. She doesn't feel that she has Autism but wants to rule it out, and if she does, she's very high functioning.
She thinks that prior doctors that we've tried to talk to (including a developmental neurologist) tried to look at just what 'they' deal with, and not the entire picture.
So we agreed to the testing. As she was giving us the paperwork for it, advising on next visit, and giving us some questionnaires to fill out, she also asked us to consider medication.
The testing comes in 4 parts; the first and last are parent only meetings. The second and third are 2 sessions of 3 hour testing with a 10-15 minute break in the middle. The initial first visit was going to be in March 2018, but we managed to fill in a cancellation and that first visit is now December 11.
Medication scares me. I don't want my 7 year old daughter to become numb. I don't want her to lose her spunk, lose her stubbornness, lose the person she really is, deep down inside. I want to help her, I want to help us and try to get everyone some sanity back. I want to see the little girl that she is 85% of the time instead of only 15% of the time. I want that smile, that goofiness, that love that shines from her. But I don't want to numb her.
And once we get the official diagnosis we will need to update her IEP. I need to make sure she gets everything she needs.
So now we have a monthly psychiatry appointment and a monthly GI appointment for her encopresis. Which we are getting ready to do a clean out this weekend, along with a specialized X-ray called a sitz marker test, and likely some blood work.
All in my last semester of my MBA. I'm struggling. I'm feeling very overwhelmed. Life is hard right now, and we are trying to balance it all.
And poor Bubba, he just deals with all of this. And in the midst of it all we got a call from the school (he is in the preschool program in our school system as a typical peer) that he failed 2 vision tests. They go down to 20-35 for preschool, and both times he couldn't make it past 20-50 in his left eye. So an eye appointment is set up for a few weeks from now.
But we are hanging in there. We will get there. Life will continue on and we will push through it all.
Wednesday, September 6, 2017
The Flu, and Encopresis
So the entire family just got over the flu. It was brutal. Bug started it, then Bubba, me and K. During our camping weekend.
At least we have a bathroom in our camper.
How does the Flu and Encopresis mix one might ask? Not real well.
Initially it didn't really affect her very much. She puked and had the runs. But that meant there were 2 days that she didn't get her miralax and exlax. Then she fought taking her medicine again.
So today? We had our first accident in about a week or so. and she wouldn't poop this morning or this evening. Just the accident. and it wasn't a very big accident.
So there's gotta be more up there. She's just not getting it out.
I really hate that the flu can cause a set back in what's been a good string of accident free days.
Stupid Flu.
At least we have a bathroom in our camper.
How does the Flu and Encopresis mix one might ask? Not real well.
Initially it didn't really affect her very much. She puked and had the runs. But that meant there were 2 days that she didn't get her miralax and exlax. Then she fought taking her medicine again.
So today? We had our first accident in about a week or so. and she wouldn't poop this morning or this evening. Just the accident. and it wasn't a very big accident.
So there's gotta be more up there. She's just not getting it out.
I really hate that the flu can cause a set back in what's been a good string of accident free days.
Stupid Flu.
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
Behavior
So today was K's leave day. Typically he gets put on the first flight out of the day, but he has 2 days of recurrent a few hours from home. So he got a rental car to drive down, and didn't have to leave until the afternoon.
Made it nice, as he handled kid duty this morning. Normally travel days aren't too bad, it typically hits the kids the next day. Tonight started out great, I was running late from a work meeting and so we did a random dinner sitting on the kitchen floor, and the kids happily got themselves dressed for bed.
But they found 3 pieces of taffy that K left on the counter. They know about the taffy, we were all together when we bought it on a mini vacation this past weekend. They were being so good, so I let them know that after we ate our random dinner and they were ready for bed I let them each have a piece of taffy.
10 minutes later we were getting ready to brush our teeth, and the crap hit the fan. Bug MELTED down. It turned into a 25 minute, throw herself on the floor kicking and screaming temper tantrum. Bubba and I went forward with getting ready for bed while she screamed and threw stuff around. She ended up slamming the door to Bubba's room open, so I put her in her room and closed the door. She kept screaming about wanting to brush her teeth, but not wanting to brush her teeth.
It was epic. I have no idea why (other than the damn taffy). She did finally calm down, brushed her teeth, picked up everything she had thrown around, and then covered up with her weighted blanket to finish calming down.
It still took 30 minutes before all was said and done (he needed to poop, they both needed to get a drink and then be tucked back in, you name it, they needed it).
On a positive note, she did realize she had to poop, and did it; in the toilet. So i'm holding onto hope that we are on the upswing of her encopresis. But I've felt this way a million times before, so we shall see.
Fingers crossed that the next 8 days go as smooth as possible. Lots of changes as Bug starts first grade the day after tomorrow (she's excited!), I go back for my last semester of my MBA next Monday, and Bubba starts preschool (in the school system as a typical peer - same program she did but typical peer versus IEP student) next Tuesday.
Made it nice, as he handled kid duty this morning. Normally travel days aren't too bad, it typically hits the kids the next day. Tonight started out great, I was running late from a work meeting and so we did a random dinner sitting on the kitchen floor, and the kids happily got themselves dressed for bed.
But they found 3 pieces of taffy that K left on the counter. They know about the taffy, we were all together when we bought it on a mini vacation this past weekend. They were being so good, so I let them know that after we ate our random dinner and they were ready for bed I let them each have a piece of taffy.
10 minutes later we were getting ready to brush our teeth, and the crap hit the fan. Bug MELTED down. It turned into a 25 minute, throw herself on the floor kicking and screaming temper tantrum. Bubba and I went forward with getting ready for bed while she screamed and threw stuff around. She ended up slamming the door to Bubba's room open, so I put her in her room and closed the door. She kept screaming about wanting to brush her teeth, but not wanting to brush her teeth.
It was epic. I have no idea why (other than the damn taffy). She did finally calm down, brushed her teeth, picked up everything she had thrown around, and then covered up with her weighted blanket to finish calming down.
It still took 30 minutes before all was said and done (he needed to poop, they both needed to get a drink and then be tucked back in, you name it, they needed it).
On a positive note, she did realize she had to poop, and did it; in the toilet. So i'm holding onto hope that we are on the upswing of her encopresis. But I've felt this way a million times before, so we shall see.
Fingers crossed that the next 8 days go as smooth as possible. Lots of changes as Bug starts first grade the day after tomorrow (she's excited!), I go back for my last semester of my MBA next Monday, and Bubba starts preschool (in the school system as a typical peer - same program she did but typical peer versus IEP student) next Tuesday.
Monday, August 14, 2017
New Direction?
Writing was always very therapeutic for me. I started this blog originally thinking I would share the link with my family and let them keep up with my baby girl, Bug. It became a place to vent in my sleep deprivation, and was my sanity through our last attempt at IVF, and through the birth of our little boy.
It's been a while since i've written. Not because the therapy of writing was gone, but with school and the craziness of 2 young kids, a husband who travels, I just found myself lost in translation, and simply stopped writing.
The last 2 years have been, well, crazy. And now I'm back for a wholly new reason. I need the therapeutic benefits again - for my own sanity.
We have continued to struggle with issues due to the peri anal strep that Bug was diagnosed with years ago, after the initial pediatrician ignored us. We changed peds, included a pediatric GI, resorted to miralax and exalt when I really didn't want to, have had X-rays, clean outs, and find ourselves now in year 4 of dealing with continued encopresis.
She remains on an IEP and continues to struggle. She talks so much, but she's still very unclear, and now we are dealing with some added frustration of having to learn new things in school. That's only going to get worse in first grade, but we added in 'brain breaks' and reviews for her receptive speech as well.
We also started her with a psychologist. We are struggling with sensory issues, depression, anxiety, severe behavioral issues (anger, lashing out both verbally and physically, frustration, etc). Both her and a prior counselor suspect ADHD.
And I'm struggling with it all. Just like she gets frustrated when I sometimes can't understand her, I get frustrated with her (and I shouldn't!!) when she's at her worst, when she's having multiple accidents, when she's refusing to take her medicine, when she's lashing out and hitting, kicking, scratching, screaming at whomever she feels has slighted her. And a slight to her could be as simple as she didn't want you to LOOK at her, at that EXACT moment, in that EXACT way. Even though 2 minutes ago she wanted, DEMANDED you look at her.
I feel touched out, all the time. She's 7 now, but she constantly has to be on you - hanging on you, sitting on your lap, leaning against you. Doesn't matter if you're eating, sitting on the couch, going to the bathroom. She refuses to do anything alone; she won't go to the bathroom by herself, won't come downstairs in the morning alone (and she's an EARLY riser!!! on a good day she's up at 620, on a not good day it's 500am. and everywhere in between). She hangs on you when you try to make dinner.
A few years ago I had my BFF's father in law comment on the amazing amount of patience I had with Bug. I feel like over the years that patience has eroded. I feel like I find myself on the ledge too often, and it breaks my heart, and I feel horrible and I beat myself up when I yell at the kids.
I wonder if I'm picking my battles poorly. And because she melts down every time I tell her no, it makes me second guess and question every. damn. decision I make.
I'm now questioning my own sanity. I'm questioning if I can really be successful at this parenting thing. I'm so scared that I won't raise them to be good people, to treat others right, and to do what works for them; makes them happy. I'm afraid i'm neglecting Bubba because she is so demanding of all effort and energy, and more than half the time it's just me to give it to both of them. I'm trying to find myself a counselor, I'm afraid that I've hit a wall for myself, I think I may be struggling with anxiety myself.
I'm trying to keep it together. I'm trying to reign my own anxiety in. I'm trying not to speak to them too harshly. I'm trying to be the mom they need me to be. I love them so very much, more than life itself. I would do anything for them, I want to be their everything.
It's been a while since i've written. Not because the therapy of writing was gone, but with school and the craziness of 2 young kids, a husband who travels, I just found myself lost in translation, and simply stopped writing.
The last 2 years have been, well, crazy. And now I'm back for a wholly new reason. I need the therapeutic benefits again - for my own sanity.
We have continued to struggle with issues due to the peri anal strep that Bug was diagnosed with years ago, after the initial pediatrician ignored us. We changed peds, included a pediatric GI, resorted to miralax and exalt when I really didn't want to, have had X-rays, clean outs, and find ourselves now in year 4 of dealing with continued encopresis.
She remains on an IEP and continues to struggle. She talks so much, but she's still very unclear, and now we are dealing with some added frustration of having to learn new things in school. That's only going to get worse in first grade, but we added in 'brain breaks' and reviews for her receptive speech as well.
We also started her with a psychologist. We are struggling with sensory issues, depression, anxiety, severe behavioral issues (anger, lashing out both verbally and physically, frustration, etc). Both her and a prior counselor suspect ADHD.
And I'm struggling with it all. Just like she gets frustrated when I sometimes can't understand her, I get frustrated with her (and I shouldn't!!) when she's at her worst, when she's having multiple accidents, when she's refusing to take her medicine, when she's lashing out and hitting, kicking, scratching, screaming at whomever she feels has slighted her. And a slight to her could be as simple as she didn't want you to LOOK at her, at that EXACT moment, in that EXACT way. Even though 2 minutes ago she wanted, DEMANDED you look at her.
I feel touched out, all the time. She's 7 now, but she constantly has to be on you - hanging on you, sitting on your lap, leaning against you. Doesn't matter if you're eating, sitting on the couch, going to the bathroom. She refuses to do anything alone; she won't go to the bathroom by herself, won't come downstairs in the morning alone (and she's an EARLY riser!!! on a good day she's up at 620, on a not good day it's 500am. and everywhere in between). She hangs on you when you try to make dinner.
A few years ago I had my BFF's father in law comment on the amazing amount of patience I had with Bug. I feel like over the years that patience has eroded. I feel like I find myself on the ledge too often, and it breaks my heart, and I feel horrible and I beat myself up when I yell at the kids.
I wonder if I'm picking my battles poorly. And because she melts down every time I tell her no, it makes me second guess and question every. damn. decision I make.
I'm now questioning my own sanity. I'm questioning if I can really be successful at this parenting thing. I'm so scared that I won't raise them to be good people, to treat others right, and to do what works for them; makes them happy. I'm afraid i'm neglecting Bubba because she is so demanding of all effort and energy, and more than half the time it's just me to give it to both of them. I'm trying to find myself a counselor, I'm afraid that I've hit a wall for myself, I think I may be struggling with anxiety myself.
I'm trying to keep it together. I'm trying to reign my own anxiety in. I'm trying not to speak to them too harshly. I'm trying to be the mom they need me to be. I love them so very much, more than life itself. I would do anything for them, I want to be their everything.
Friday, January 1, 2016
Every year I wonder where the year has gone.
How did it fly by so quickly?
How did my kids grow so much?
How...how...how...
Some days, when they are particularly hard and I'm stressed because of work, and school, and K is gone, I wish time away. I hate that I do it, and it makes me sad when I realize what I'm doing. But I sometimes find myself saying 'when she is older/when he is older' and I hate myself for it.
I really don't want the time to pass. I ask the kids all the time to stop growing, to which they look at me, and giggling, tell me no.
I wish they could slow down. I wish they could stay this way forever. I want the loves, the cuddles, the need for their mommy. I know it won't last, and my heart hurts knowing that they are growing up, and I never know when they will stop.
Already Bubba will only give kisses on your arm. It's adorable, and I'll never force him to kiss me, and I'm happy for the kisses he's willing to share.
Bug, she's still such my lover. When K is gone, she wants to hug me, and hold me and lay with me, cuddle me and kiss me and just hang out with me.
I. Love. Every. Minute. Of. It.
2015 was an amazing year. I made it through 2 more semesters of my MBA. We had our entire first year in our newest home. My job continued to go well, K's job continued to go well. Bug came a long way with her speech and preparing for Kindergarten next year. Bubba grew up so much that he is really, truly no longer my baby. I passed a milestone that I never would have thought I'd be interested in hitting as I hit the 2 year mark of nursing Bubba (and then some).
I spent time frustrated, I let my temper get the best of me. I loved my husband and remembered time and time again why I married this man. My heart ached for those lost too soon while it also filled, even more, with love for those still here.
I made attempts to see family that I don't see often enough. I remembered those that have had their own struggles in their lives. I started to work out again, and kept at it. I cycled through eating better and giving in to my carb/sugar cravings. I enjoyed some drinks.
And I loved. Oh did I love.
I thanked the Lord every day that I am still here, that I have the family I have and the life I love. Even during my most difficult days, when I'm ready to run away, I was able to remind myself of 2 things; this too shall pass, and even in the rough moments I'm a lucky lucky woman.
So I close out 2015 feeling good, feeling proud. Knowing I wasn't always at my best, and that there's improvements needed. But I close it out happy.
I open 2016 knowing that I'll try and sometimes I'll still fail at things. I'll have days of stress and difficulties, but I'll continue to love my life.
So here's to hoping that everyone has a wonderful year.
Thursday, October 22, 2015
You are my World
Every night, when I get to tuck you in, I hold you tight and try to memorize the feel of your warm bodies against me. The way they fit in my arms. The way your heads fit just right into the crook of my neck, or on my chest, or my tummy. The way your little hands curl up between my breasts, or around my waist, or twiddle with my hair.
The way you throw your little legs over my leg. Or the way you spoon your little body with mine. The way you tuck your face into my neck and face. The way you smell like little girl mixed with dirt and paint. The way you sometimes want me to tuck you in, and others, in your own show of independence, you do not. The sound of you as you suck on your tongue. The way you ask me to leave your door open, and sometimes you ask me to come back in and tuck you in, just one more time.
The way you crawl up in the glider when we go to your room. The way you let me pick you up and sit down with you on my lap, the way you look up at my and simply say 'nurse mama.' The way you nurse, and insist that my arm stays around you. If I move it, for even a second, you reach up and pull it back to you. When I hold you before putting you in your crib, I try to memorize the weight of you. The smell of your hair, and your neck. That smell that lingers on baby boy while toeing the line into just boy. The way your head rests on my shoulder while your legs hang down past my hips.
Every night, when I check on you just one more time before I go to bed myself, I watch you. In the silence of the night when you are at your most peaceful, I try to memorize the way your eyes and nose fit in your faces. I try to memorize the way your little mouths hang open, just a bit, as you slumber. I watch to see your chest rise and fall, and I cover you if you've kicked them off. I apologize if I got short with you today, even if I already apologized while you were awake. I try to remember these moments, because they will be gone too soon. I try to not to think of the day that you won't want these cuddles, that you'll go to bed without begging for one more story, or one more song. One day you'll simply stop asking to nurse, or you'll stop asking me to check on you just one more time.
I try not to think of that day where you go to bed wanting these kisses and cuddles, and you'll wake up too big for them.
Because no matter what I do, and no matter how much I want it, I cannot slow down the process, nor can I stop it. You will grow up, and I don't want to forget these moments.
The way you throw your little legs over my leg. Or the way you spoon your little body with mine. The way you tuck your face into my neck and face. The way you smell like little girl mixed with dirt and paint. The way you sometimes want me to tuck you in, and others, in your own show of independence, you do not. The sound of you as you suck on your tongue. The way you ask me to leave your door open, and sometimes you ask me to come back in and tuck you in, just one more time.
The way you crawl up in the glider when we go to your room. The way you let me pick you up and sit down with you on my lap, the way you look up at my and simply say 'nurse mama.' The way you nurse, and insist that my arm stays around you. If I move it, for even a second, you reach up and pull it back to you. When I hold you before putting you in your crib, I try to memorize the weight of you. The smell of your hair, and your neck. That smell that lingers on baby boy while toeing the line into just boy. The way your head rests on my shoulder while your legs hang down past my hips.
Every night, when I check on you just one more time before I go to bed myself, I watch you. In the silence of the night when you are at your most peaceful, I try to memorize the way your eyes and nose fit in your faces. I try to memorize the way your little mouths hang open, just a bit, as you slumber. I watch to see your chest rise and fall, and I cover you if you've kicked them off. I apologize if I got short with you today, even if I already apologized while you were awake. I try to remember these moments, because they will be gone too soon. I try to not to think of the day that you won't want these cuddles, that you'll go to bed without begging for one more story, or one more song. One day you'll simply stop asking to nurse, or you'll stop asking me to check on you just one more time.
I try not to think of that day where you go to bed wanting these kisses and cuddles, and you'll wake up too big for them.
Because no matter what I do, and no matter how much I want it, I cannot slow down the process, nor can I stop it. You will grow up, and I don't want to forget these moments.
Monday, January 19, 2015
Parenting after Infertility
One would think that parenting after infertility would be the easy part. I mean really, after days, months, years of trying, of dealing with failure after failure, parenting should be the easy part. After temping, taking ovulation enhancing drugs, sticking myself with a needle for daily, no make that twice daily, injections just to BECOME a parent. Parenting should be the easy part.
As it turns out, that’s not the case.
First, all that I’ve gone through, all the emotions, all the let downs. The day that I found out I was pregnant was a joyous one. For a minute, or maybe two. Then the fear set in. I was only about 5 weeks along. I had to make it to week 13 for the chances of a miscarriage to drop drastically. That means harboring this precious secret while every day I live in fear. Every time I pee I checked the toilet paper for red. Then it happened, spotting. A phone call to the doctor in tears. A quick visit to the doctor and affirmation that everything was OK. The heartbeat was strong.
As the weeks pass I gain a baby bump. I deal with the heartburn, extreme fatigue, sore breasts, morning sickness, hunger, cold sores, bloody nose, Charlie horses, bloody gums, headaches. And the fear remains. I don’t want to complain about the symptoms, after all, I’ve worked so hard to get here and so many couples out there are still struggling to get to where I am today. So I have to suffer in silence for fear of alienating those friends that I have made. I start to show, but still I cannot tell anyone. Only a select few people know outside of K and I. My best friend, one other close friend who gave me an OB referral and my mom. Another close friend is pregnant and shares her happy updates. I feel my heart sink with every update, living with the what if that infertility drives into your mind. What if this baby doesn’t stick. So I don’t even tell this friend that I am pregnant.
Week 13 comes and goes. I can’t hide it anymore. Whispers are in the hallways. People have it figured out. Week 14 and I can’t continue to hover over this secret, but telling it is going to jinx it. Telling everyone will make the worst happen. That’s what infertility has taught me, right? But I have to. Hiding it now is tearing me apart. So I do. I tell my employees, the rest of my closest friends and family, but that’s it. Then I hold my breath for days on end, fearing what will happen. Then I spot again. End up at the ER, scared to death. I’m pushing 20 weeks, I can’t possibly lose the baby now. This is happening because I shared in my good news. But all turns out OK. Some of the symptoms of carrying another being have dissipated. Morning sickness is reduced, although still shows up sometimes. Heartburn sucks, but again, I don’t complain.
As the weeks go by I start to get more comfortable in being pregnant. Sometime in the middle of my second trimester I finally buy the first baby item. It’s a monkey head with a little blanket. I sit at the store fingering the edges, loving on the softness. I give in and purchase it. Then a pair of socks. Then as the third trimester nears we finally allow ourselves to buy the crib, the glider. The room starts to get set up for the baby, although it doesn’t get finished until the third trimester.
Then I am slammed with more fear as I call the doctor in my 31st week of pregnancy with some symptoms that I cannot fully explain. They have me come in for a stress test to find out I’m having contractions. Nothing big, but they’re there. So onto bed rest, for 5 ½ weeks. By this time my whole body aches as I continue to gain weight, but am not allowed to get up and move to help relieve the pain and pressure. I’m only 5 feet tall, so the baby is sitting on my bladder and pushing into my ribs at the same time. I can’t breathe. But still I am afraid to complain.
My due date comes and goes. I don’t want to be induced, and I know the doc is watching me close. But what if something goes wrong with the labor? What if my baby is born still? These fears are so real that I can taste them. I have now felt this baby move for months, I have fallen in love, as has K. But what if.
I go into labor. For the one time during my quest to parenthood I am able to allow my body to do what it was meant to do. The fear is there, but hidden in the back of my mind for now. Finally. Labor is long and difficult (29 hours). They have to break my water and break scar tissue. I am on oxygen. We deal with the baby’s heart rate dipping. We have internal monitoring and they mention possible c-section. I am so afraid to let it go longer, but want to do this the old fashioned way. Finally, she is ready to come meet us. A vacuum is used, but no big deal. It’s a girl. She’s beautiful as they lay her on my chest in all her red faced screaming glory. She is ours. She is love. SHE is the reason that we went through the treatments, the medications, the injections, the pain, the fear, the marriage almost lost. She is amazing.
She is running a fever and very jaundiced. She ends up in NICU for 2 days. I am so afraid, but thankful that her issues are minor. She is released less than 24 hours after I am. We never even left the hospital, she goes home with us.
Now it should be easy, right?
We struggle with breastfeeding. It’s not easy, but I was warned, I thought I was prepared for this.
Now we are at home, with a newborn. We want to do everything right. She wants to nurse, but falls asleep at the breast. After 1 day we call the pediatrician in tears – she hasn’t had a wet diaper. They want to see her. They are very pro breastfeeding, but he tells me we HAVE to give her a couple of ounces of pumped breastmilk in a bottle. We have to KNOW that she is getting some. She drinks it that night. Next day still not enough diapers. They check her bilirubin levels again and tell us to keep it up.
Now we’re exhausted, and our little miracle screams. All day. All night. She won’t sleep, which means I don’t sleep. She wants to nurse, All. Day. Long. But it hurts to nurse, because she doesn’t have a good latch. So I almost give up. K says it’s OK to give up. But I WON’T. I refuse. I want her to have this, I want to have this. So we continue on. We use an SNS, we use a nipple shield. I pump daily to make sure she’s getting enough.
After weeks I feel like I’m going to break down. But I can’t complain, because there are others behind me that are still trying to do this, and they DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT. They don’t want to hear how TOUGH it is being a parent. They’ve made the same promises I did when dealing with treatment. They just KNOW that it won’t be this hard on them, so why is this hard for me? I can hear their voices in my head asking me this.
By the time she is a month old, I feel broken. Maybe this was why I wasn’t meant to be a mother. I can’t handle it. I think, and people tell me, that crying is normal. But I know it must be something else. A baby screaming all day and not sleeping at all is not normal. But I can’t hardly think straight because I’m so tired. I fear going back to work in a few weeks. How will I ever make it?
But still, I can’t complain. Because I’m infertile. Because I’ve PROMISED that I won’t complain. I’ve BEGGED to have this. I’ve PRAYED to be blessed with this child. So I can’t complain. There are others who are still out there, trying for their miracle. There are others that would sneer at me for complaining about this wonderful life I now have. They are there, in the background, just waiting for the moment that I mess up and break down.
At 4 weeks old our little girl is diagnosed with Reflux. At 5 weeks old she starts medication. By 6 weeks she is a whole new baby. I am finally able to mostly wean from the nipple shield. She even starts taking a bottle. From K only, not me. By the time I go back to work, things have settled down some.
She never did become a good sleeper. At 4 1/2 she's finally getting better. There have been days, weeks, where I thought I would lose my mind due to lack of sleep. I took days off of work and took her to daycare, just so that I could go home and sleep. I started this blog sometime around her 5th month. While some of my followers were IF followers, some of them were not. Some were and have come out on the other side. I allowed myself to open up on this blog more so than anywhere else. I allowed myself that chance to complain as non infertile mothers are allowed when they struggle with parenthood.
Parenting after Infertility provides it’s own unique set of circumstances. Fertile mothers are allowed to complain through all these trials and tribulations. They are allowed to have moments where they dislike being pregnant, or where they have to put their baby down and go into another room. Infertile parents are put on a pedastol. We asked for this, so we have to take it in stride, with no complaints. We have to accept that we begged for this, so complaining puts a stigma on your head. It shouldn’t be like this.
Parenting is HARD. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. There are so many beautiful moments, but there are difficult, heart breaking moments as well.
2 children born now, after the throws of infertility. When I first wrote this she was not even 2 yet. Now we have a son who will be 2 very soon. He too made for difficulties, but nothing compared to her - nothing compared to even how she still is. He had reflux that was more difficult to treat, we spent hours bouncing on the exercise ball to calm his nerves and reflux. But he was not soothed by nursing to the extent that she was. Which was the one thing that by his birth I knew how to do well.
Parenting after infertility should not be the journey that it is. Most parents feel this isolation that I speak of, this thought that everything should be perfect.
Please know, it's not, and it's not supposed to be. I know we asked for this, we begged for this, we cleared out our savings and our sanity for this. That doesn't mean it's going to be easy. That doesn't mean that we'll love every Godforsaken moment of it. Because there's a reality in there that we aren't recognizing, that is as true for us infertiles as it is for the rest of the world.
That reality my fellows, is that parenting is HARD.
But I promise, it's the most rewarding thing that you'll ever do.
For once - it will meet that expectation.
2 children born now, after the throws of infertility. When I first wrote this she was not even 2 yet. Now we have a son who will be 2 very soon. He too made for difficulties, but nothing compared to her - nothing compared to even how she still is. He had reflux that was more difficult to treat, we spent hours bouncing on the exercise ball to calm his nerves and reflux. But he was not soothed by nursing to the extent that she was. Which was the one thing that by his birth I knew how to do well.
Parenting after infertility should not be the journey that it is. Most parents feel this isolation that I speak of, this thought that everything should be perfect.
Please know, it's not, and it's not supposed to be. I know we asked for this, we begged for this, we cleared out our savings and our sanity for this. That doesn't mean it's going to be easy. That doesn't mean that we'll love every Godforsaken moment of it. Because there's a reality in there that we aren't recognizing, that is as true for us infertiles as it is for the rest of the world.
That reality my fellows, is that parenting is HARD.
But I promise, it's the most rewarding thing that you'll ever do.
For once - it will meet that expectation.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Senility
It's like it's a dirty word.
A horrible dirty word.
We lost K's dad 9 years ago this month, he passed from sepsis, but it was exacerbated by his morbid obesity and other health issues.
K's mom is a sweetheart. I really love her and feel lucky that I got such an awesome extended family when I met, and then married K.
Which makes it that much more heartbreaking as I watch her walk the line, dancing from side to side, heading into some type of senility/dementia.
It's gotten worse over the last 5 or so years. 2 years ago she had a blood clot removed from her brain - but it was (thankfully) more on the outside of her skull. It was right before Goose was born.
Sidetrack for a minute - Goose isn't Goose anymore. He's bubba now. I'll tell that story later.
Anyways.
Her memory got worse after her surgery. It didn't surprise any of us, it was kinda expected based on the fact that she had pretty major brain surgery.
But the last year has been really bad.
About a month ago she went to bed at 8 one night, got up around 10 and put the dog in the car to take her to doggy daycare. She thought it was morning. She 'hit a curb' doing '30 miles an hour'. The airbag went off. The car is totaled. It was a 2 year lease, about 4 days away from her turn in date. She honestly has NO CLUE what happened, how it happened, or really where she was (or if she had gap insurance for that matter). She went to court. And kept her license.
Her doctor started telling her 2 years ago that he doesn't think she should drive. She wants a new car. Every one of her kids (there's 4 of them) have tried (using different methods) to convince her not to. But she a) doesn't want to lose her independence and b) doesn't typically remember the conversations. We had a long conversations (2 of her kids and me) with her on Christmas about it, and about all the options she has to get all around so that she doesn't need a car. The next day she barely remembered the conversation.
For Christmas, K drove the 2 hours to where she lives and picked her up, together they took her dog to doggie daycare, and then he brought her here. I picked up my brother in law from the airport, and we beat K and their mom by about 10 minutes. When they walked into the house, my mother in law looked at my brother in law (her son) and said 'Hi, I'm K's mom' the room went silent. We all thought she was joking.
She wasn't.
We had to point out to her that it was her son. It was heartbreaking.
The next day she was telling my brother in law something and she said 'oh never mind, I told you that already when you picked me up.' He didn't. K did.
On Saturday the boys took her back home, and picked up the dog from doggy daycare with her.
On Monday, on the 8th call of the day to K (yes, this is normal) she mentioned that her car (that's been totaled) was out at doggie daycare being fixed. K was quite confused and questioned her about it - reminding her that her car had been totaled. She questioned then how did the dog get out to doggie daycare over the weekend?
These are only a couple of the most recent examples. It's heartbreaking, and scary. She's only 62 or 63. But her mom had severe dementia, and one of her sisters has just been accepted into a clinical trial at Cleveland Clinic for dementia of some form or another.
We are looking at trying to convince her to sell her condo and move into independent/assisted living out here near us. We'd see her more, which I think would be good for everyone. We are the closest to her other than her daughter, who is quite not right - a lot because of her emotionally abusive husband (more on that in other posts). We are trying to do it from the stance of 'it's her decision' since that seems to be how she seems most receptive.
I'm sad, and scared. We're in the best position to take care of her. And out of the 4 kids, only 2 of them really should be the ones in consideration anyways (did I mention that the oldest son wouldn't fly out to see her after brain surgery even though the youngest brother was going to pay for the ticket???)
Any suggestions? Idea's on how in the world to convince her to sell her condo and move here? We gotta make it happen. Otherwise people, I honestly fear for her safety and wellbeing.
A horrible dirty word.
We lost K's dad 9 years ago this month, he passed from sepsis, but it was exacerbated by his morbid obesity and other health issues.
K's mom is a sweetheart. I really love her and feel lucky that I got such an awesome extended family when I met, and then married K.
Which makes it that much more heartbreaking as I watch her walk the line, dancing from side to side, heading into some type of senility/dementia.
It's gotten worse over the last 5 or so years. 2 years ago she had a blood clot removed from her brain - but it was (thankfully) more on the outside of her skull. It was right before Goose was born.
Sidetrack for a minute - Goose isn't Goose anymore. He's bubba now. I'll tell that story later.
Anyways.
Her memory got worse after her surgery. It didn't surprise any of us, it was kinda expected based on the fact that she had pretty major brain surgery.
But the last year has been really bad.
About a month ago she went to bed at 8 one night, got up around 10 and put the dog in the car to take her to doggy daycare. She thought it was morning. She 'hit a curb' doing '30 miles an hour'. The airbag went off. The car is totaled. It was a 2 year lease, about 4 days away from her turn in date. She honestly has NO CLUE what happened, how it happened, or really where she was (or if she had gap insurance for that matter). She went to court. And kept her license.
Her doctor started telling her 2 years ago that he doesn't think she should drive. She wants a new car. Every one of her kids (there's 4 of them) have tried (using different methods) to convince her not to. But she a) doesn't want to lose her independence and b) doesn't typically remember the conversations. We had a long conversations (2 of her kids and me) with her on Christmas about it, and about all the options she has to get all around so that she doesn't need a car. The next day she barely remembered the conversation.
For Christmas, K drove the 2 hours to where she lives and picked her up, together they took her dog to doggie daycare, and then he brought her here. I picked up my brother in law from the airport, and we beat K and their mom by about 10 minutes. When they walked into the house, my mother in law looked at my brother in law (her son) and said 'Hi, I'm K's mom' the room went silent. We all thought she was joking.
She wasn't.
We had to point out to her that it was her son. It was heartbreaking.
The next day she was telling my brother in law something and she said 'oh never mind, I told you that already when you picked me up.' He didn't. K did.
On Saturday the boys took her back home, and picked up the dog from doggy daycare with her.
On Monday, on the 8th call of the day to K (yes, this is normal) she mentioned that her car (that's been totaled) was out at doggie daycare being fixed. K was quite confused and questioned her about it - reminding her that her car had been totaled. She questioned then how did the dog get out to doggie daycare over the weekend?
These are only a couple of the most recent examples. It's heartbreaking, and scary. She's only 62 or 63. But her mom had severe dementia, and one of her sisters has just been accepted into a clinical trial at Cleveland Clinic for dementia of some form or another.
We are looking at trying to convince her to sell her condo and move into independent/assisted living out here near us. We'd see her more, which I think would be good for everyone. We are the closest to her other than her daughter, who is quite not right - a lot because of her emotionally abusive husband (more on that in other posts). We are trying to do it from the stance of 'it's her decision' since that seems to be how she seems most receptive.
I'm sad, and scared. We're in the best position to take care of her. And out of the 4 kids, only 2 of them really should be the ones in consideration anyways (did I mention that the oldest son wouldn't fly out to see her after brain surgery even though the youngest brother was going to pay for the ticket???)
Any suggestions? Idea's on how in the world to convince her to sell her condo and move here? We gotta make it happen. Otherwise people, I honestly fear for her safety and wellbeing.
Friday, January 2, 2015
Where have I been?
I forgot how tough school was. I really did.
Every. Single. Waking. Moment (that wasn't spent on kids of course) was spent on schoolwork. Studying, homework, quizzes, reading, you get the gist.
I finished my first semester back for my MBA with 2 A's. I'm a proud person right now. I'm showing my kids how hard work and determination can get you whatever you want out of life. I'm showing them that education is important.
But I'm learning to balance it all. And it's a balance.
There have been moments where I let my kids watch too much TV because I needed to get in some studying.
I've given up my precious sleep (and trust me, I need it) to get in more studying.
I've given up the limited time I have with K, all in the name of studying.
It's not easy, but it will be worth it in the end.
The next semester starts in just over a week. I'm trying not to stress, but wind up at the same time. I spent tonight reading the first chapter in my Economics book. Scintillating I tell you.
Christmas was great. We typically have a low key, just us holiday. But this year my brother in law came to visit for the first time in 2 years. So that started everything - we added in my mother in law, my parents and my brother. It was wonderful seeing everyone, having people here, and enjoying the holiday in a house filled of family, laughter, food, and drink.
It was especially nice to see my brother in law. He's doing really good right now, happy with the girl he's dating. There's nothing I want more than to see that man happy. We've had our ups and downs since we met 15 years ago (after K and I started dating), but he's such a good guy, and he's really K's best friend, and always has been.
My kids were spoiled, both with the tangible (thanks brother in law mentioned above, and yes, ourselves to an extent) and the intangible (TIME!!! Time with us all!!!). K was home for both Thanksgiving (which we also hosted, but just my parents and brother) and Christmas. It's insane that his new(ish) job he's got top seniority - the positive about flying one of the planes that has a smaller fleet, but still enough pilots to not screw him.
He was gone for new years, but let's be honest, I haven't watched the ball drop in years - babies that don't sleep the best and a mama who needs lots of sleep don't really allow that to happen.
The positive is that he'll be home Tuesday, and Wednesday we'll be leaving for Disney World!
So cheers, I hope your holidays went well!!!
(and Becky - thanks for asking - Bug's speech continues to improve everyday!! It's AMAZING!! Although interestingly, I swear she's taken a step or 2 back after being off for 2 weeks... I practice with her and can't help but wonder if it's normal??)
Every. Single. Waking. Moment (that wasn't spent on kids of course) was spent on schoolwork. Studying, homework, quizzes, reading, you get the gist.
I finished my first semester back for my MBA with 2 A's. I'm a proud person right now. I'm showing my kids how hard work and determination can get you whatever you want out of life. I'm showing them that education is important.
But I'm learning to balance it all. And it's a balance.
There have been moments where I let my kids watch too much TV because I needed to get in some studying.
I've given up my precious sleep (and trust me, I need it) to get in more studying.
I've given up the limited time I have with K, all in the name of studying.
It's not easy, but it will be worth it in the end.
The next semester starts in just over a week. I'm trying not to stress, but wind up at the same time. I spent tonight reading the first chapter in my Economics book. Scintillating I tell you.
Christmas was great. We typically have a low key, just us holiday. But this year my brother in law came to visit for the first time in 2 years. So that started everything - we added in my mother in law, my parents and my brother. It was wonderful seeing everyone, having people here, and enjoying the holiday in a house filled of family, laughter, food, and drink.
It was especially nice to see my brother in law. He's doing really good right now, happy with the girl he's dating. There's nothing I want more than to see that man happy. We've had our ups and downs since we met 15 years ago (after K and I started dating), but he's such a good guy, and he's really K's best friend, and always has been.
My kids were spoiled, both with the tangible (thanks brother in law mentioned above, and yes, ourselves to an extent) and the intangible (TIME!!! Time with us all!!!). K was home for both Thanksgiving (which we also hosted, but just my parents and brother) and Christmas. It's insane that his new(ish) job he's got top seniority - the positive about flying one of the planes that has a smaller fleet, but still enough pilots to not screw him.
He was gone for new years, but let's be honest, I haven't watched the ball drop in years - babies that don't sleep the best and a mama who needs lots of sleep don't really allow that to happen.
The positive is that he'll be home Tuesday, and Wednesday we'll be leaving for Disney World!
So cheers, I hope your holidays went well!!!
(and Becky - thanks for asking - Bug's speech continues to improve everyday!! It's AMAZING!! Although interestingly, I swear she's taken a step or 2 back after being off for 2 weeks... I practice with her and can't help but wonder if it's normal??)
Friday, October 17, 2014
Bugs speech delay will not win
Wow, it's been a bit since I've managed to write. So much for a computer helping to make that happen :-) Needless to say, school, work and the kids have kept me busy!!
So when we bought a house back in April, one of the things that we looked for, as I'm sure most, if not all, parents do, was a good school district. Shortly after moving I outreached to the school district to talk to them about getting Bug assessed.
Let me back up a step. I've mentioned many times that Bug has a speech delay. Well initially we had her assessed b Early Intervention back at 18 months. We used them until she hit age 3, which is when she aged out. They would have transferred her over to the school district at that time, but we did NOT like the school district we were in, and therefore went on our own and worked with her, did the speech therapy thing, etc.
So I knew that at 3 we could get help.
Well we moved shortly before her 4th birthday. So I called the new school district and asked them about getting her assessed. It was at the end of the school year, so they sent me out the paperwork but advised that an assessment wouldn't happen until the new school year. Which I was OK with. I actually even held off on sending the paperwork for a bit so that I could send in the most up to date information. So I sent it in early August.
They came out and did an initial assessment at home. K and I were both here, and we actually got her to say a lot during this initial assessment. At the beginning of the assessment, the woman doing it let us know the steps of the process. The initial at home assessment, then if they determined the child warranted further review a play assessment at one of the schools where a team of people assess and make the decision together. Then they would decide at what level of need the child was at. For example, just speech therapy in the home, or maybe at her current daycare, all the way up to being eligible for the school districts preschool program.
So they did the in home assessment, and before the woman left she advised that they would want to bring Bug in for a play assessment.
So we took her in for the play assessment. K handled the majority of that assessment as I was only able to stay for a little while. They let me know before I left that they would schedule a meeting after they had a chance to meet and decide what to do, and that meeting would be either a 'your child is fine' kinda meeting, or they would present their findings and an IEP.
When I talked to K after the play assessment was over, I asked him what he thought. He said they eluded to the fact that she would be eligible for some services, but we weren't sure what. It took a few weeks before I got the call, but they scheduled an IEP meeting. Based on the call I knew it was an actual IEP meeting and not a 'give your kid a break, she's fine' meeting. And I was happy about that - she has come so far, but I think we need the professionals to be back in the mix now.
So, I went to the meeting. K wasn't able to come, but my mom was, and I was really glad that she was able to tag along.
It was kinda crazy when I got there and there were 5 people in the room. I felt a bit stressed about that at first. There was the speech therapist, 2 preschool teachers, the school psychologist and the person who did the initial at home assessment. They started off the meeting by going over each of their individual thoughts/findings/assessments of Bug. Nothing was surprising.
The speech therapist then went over where she fell on her language skills. They found her receptive language just barely normal, which is what i expected. I think she's got better receptive then what they gave her credit for, but knowing my daughter like I do, she didn't show them everything she can do. She gets shy, and when pushed in a situation she's not fully comfortable in she kinda shuts down. And they did say she didn't talk much for them, in fact, the speech therapist sat outside the bathroom door when K took her to the bathroom, because she was fighting him on going - and using her words. Yeah, that's my girl ha ha.
Anyways, then the part that made this mama cry came in. They diagnosed her with a developmental delay. That was HARD. Her score was WELL below normal. But they all said (and I've often wondered) that they think part of it is her significant speech delay. What they told me is that a developmental delay in educational terms is different than the medical term. It's given to children ages 3 - 5 who show delays in pre academics. Things like rote counting to 10, recognizing shapes, colors, numbers, letters, etc.
She struggles with these things. We work on it, but she still struggles.
So it wasn't a surprise. But the fact that she fell so far below normal was enough to break me down.
In the end, she qualified for their preschool program. So Monday through Thursday morning she'll attend preschool in our school district from 8:35 - 11:05. She will get 40 minutes of speech therapy a week. Her IEP is very detailed with the goals they are aiming for in terms of words and/or signs that others can understand, the number of capital letters she will recognize, how far she can rote count, etc. The school district will pick her up at daycare and drop her back off; and a car seat will be used (yeah!!).
She is the 9th child in the class, and they can have up to 12. No more than 4 of them can be 'typical' peers. They have 1 teacher and 2 aides, plus the speech therapist that comes in on Mondays. Amazing ratios. I have very high hopes. I'm happy with the school district so far.
I got a chance to talk to her teacher, and I LOVE him. He was actually doing a play assessment with another little boy when we took Bug in for hers, and I could tell just how good he is with kids. Talking to him reiterated that fact. You can tell he's in it for the right reasons.
So, the IEP meeting was last Friday. We are still working on getting the transportation set up since pick up/drop off isn't at home. But yesterday K drover her and took her to the program so that she could have someone there for her first day, as well as having a day break on Friday to help let it settle in.
K really likes the teacher too, and that's a wonderful wonderful thing.
So. Here's to the next phase in our lives. Here's to getting our Bug the additional help she needs, and here's to hoping that this time next year I'll be telling you all about the person my little girl is; and not just what I know because I know her, but what I know because she is TELLING me.
So when we bought a house back in April, one of the things that we looked for, as I'm sure most, if not all, parents do, was a good school district. Shortly after moving I outreached to the school district to talk to them about getting Bug assessed.
Let me back up a step. I've mentioned many times that Bug has a speech delay. Well initially we had her assessed b Early Intervention back at 18 months. We used them until she hit age 3, which is when she aged out. They would have transferred her over to the school district at that time, but we did NOT like the school district we were in, and therefore went on our own and worked with her, did the speech therapy thing, etc.
So I knew that at 3 we could get help.
Well we moved shortly before her 4th birthday. So I called the new school district and asked them about getting her assessed. It was at the end of the school year, so they sent me out the paperwork but advised that an assessment wouldn't happen until the new school year. Which I was OK with. I actually even held off on sending the paperwork for a bit so that I could send in the most up to date information. So I sent it in early August.
They came out and did an initial assessment at home. K and I were both here, and we actually got her to say a lot during this initial assessment. At the beginning of the assessment, the woman doing it let us know the steps of the process. The initial at home assessment, then if they determined the child warranted further review a play assessment at one of the schools where a team of people assess and make the decision together. Then they would decide at what level of need the child was at. For example, just speech therapy in the home, or maybe at her current daycare, all the way up to being eligible for the school districts preschool program.
So they did the in home assessment, and before the woman left she advised that they would want to bring Bug in for a play assessment.
So we took her in for the play assessment. K handled the majority of that assessment as I was only able to stay for a little while. They let me know before I left that they would schedule a meeting after they had a chance to meet and decide what to do, and that meeting would be either a 'your child is fine' kinda meeting, or they would present their findings and an IEP.
When I talked to K after the play assessment was over, I asked him what he thought. He said they eluded to the fact that she would be eligible for some services, but we weren't sure what. It took a few weeks before I got the call, but they scheduled an IEP meeting. Based on the call I knew it was an actual IEP meeting and not a 'give your kid a break, she's fine' meeting. And I was happy about that - she has come so far, but I think we need the professionals to be back in the mix now.
So, I went to the meeting. K wasn't able to come, but my mom was, and I was really glad that she was able to tag along.
It was kinda crazy when I got there and there were 5 people in the room. I felt a bit stressed about that at first. There was the speech therapist, 2 preschool teachers, the school psychologist and the person who did the initial at home assessment. They started off the meeting by going over each of their individual thoughts/findings/assessments of Bug. Nothing was surprising.
The speech therapist then went over where she fell on her language skills. They found her receptive language just barely normal, which is what i expected. I think she's got better receptive then what they gave her credit for, but knowing my daughter like I do, she didn't show them everything she can do. She gets shy, and when pushed in a situation she's not fully comfortable in she kinda shuts down. And they did say she didn't talk much for them, in fact, the speech therapist sat outside the bathroom door when K took her to the bathroom, because she was fighting him on going - and using her words. Yeah, that's my girl ha ha.
Anyways, then the part that made this mama cry came in. They diagnosed her with a developmental delay. That was HARD. Her score was WELL below normal. But they all said (and I've often wondered) that they think part of it is her significant speech delay. What they told me is that a developmental delay in educational terms is different than the medical term. It's given to children ages 3 - 5 who show delays in pre academics. Things like rote counting to 10, recognizing shapes, colors, numbers, letters, etc.
She struggles with these things. We work on it, but she still struggles.
So it wasn't a surprise. But the fact that she fell so far below normal was enough to break me down.
In the end, she qualified for their preschool program. So Monday through Thursday morning she'll attend preschool in our school district from 8:35 - 11:05. She will get 40 minutes of speech therapy a week. Her IEP is very detailed with the goals they are aiming for in terms of words and/or signs that others can understand, the number of capital letters she will recognize, how far she can rote count, etc. The school district will pick her up at daycare and drop her back off; and a car seat will be used (yeah!!).
She is the 9th child in the class, and they can have up to 12. No more than 4 of them can be 'typical' peers. They have 1 teacher and 2 aides, plus the speech therapist that comes in on Mondays. Amazing ratios. I have very high hopes. I'm happy with the school district so far.
I got a chance to talk to her teacher, and I LOVE him. He was actually doing a play assessment with another little boy when we took Bug in for hers, and I could tell just how good he is with kids. Talking to him reiterated that fact. You can tell he's in it for the right reasons.
So, the IEP meeting was last Friday. We are still working on getting the transportation set up since pick up/drop off isn't at home. But yesterday K drover her and took her to the program so that she could have someone there for her first day, as well as having a day break on Friday to help let it settle in.
K really likes the teacher too, and that's a wonderful wonderful thing.
So. Here's to the next phase in our lives. Here's to getting our Bug the additional help she needs, and here's to hoping that this time next year I'll be telling you all about the person my little girl is; and not just what I know because I know her, but what I know because she is TELLING me.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
A mother's intuition
So, as mentioned in my post Sweet Bug from the other day.... I called the 'new' doctor. They weren't accepting new patients until after the first of the year because they are switching to EMRs.
I couldn't deal. Bug had been in so much pain.
So I called her current peds office the day after that last post. They were going to get me in with their normal ped, and I requested a different one. So they got me in with the only male in the practice.
For a minute I felt kinda bad, making my 4 year old daughter show her butt to a guy that she's only met like twice, when she won't hardly let us see it because of the pain.
But I didn't have a choice.
So we went in, and we all went. He asked first about what was going on. So we explained it all. And he asked what the other doc had said, and we told him - sitz bath.
He flat out was like 'that won't work.' Mind you, this was before he even looked at her!!!
So, he did really good with getting her attention, calming her down, redirecting her while he checked out her eyes and ears. Then he looked at her poor little butt.
The minute he looked at it he said 'this is strep'
He let us know that they used to be able to do the rapid strep test (yes, the same one for your throat) in the office, but the FDA said they couldn't do that any longer for the butt. So the only way to 'verify' was a 2 day lab test... which he said right off that it was a bad case, and there was NO WAY he was making Bug wait that long for relief. He was like 'I've seen this multiple times, I promise it's what it is.'
Even with everything going on I chose to trust him.
So she got an antibiotic and a prescription cream.
We are just over a week into the meds and her butt is completely cleared up. She's, for the most part, no longer holding her poop. Sometimes she still does, but I think that's because she's trying to get used to the fact that it doesn't hurt any longer - after all the time that it did.
She's going poop on the potty sometimes. I figure that we're completely starting poop training from the beginning, and I'm OK with that.
And I called a contact I have in the system we use and she is going to help ensure that I can either get in permanent with this doctor we saw, or a new office.
Because I will NEVER. EVER. see that loser of a pediatrician again. She's absolutely worthless and I'm NOT wasting my time for someone that wouldn't take the time to really look at my daughters problem, even after multiple complaints.
It was a good thing K was with us that day, because I'm pretty sure I would have caused a scene when leaving the office. Instead I waited to call until I calmed down.
I'm just thankful that I finally listened to my gut, that I took her to someone else, and that I wasn't crazy. I didn't want anything wrong with her, but it validated that it was SOMETHING, not NOTHING.
And now we can move forward.
My poor little bug.
I couldn't deal. Bug had been in so much pain.
So I called her current peds office the day after that last post. They were going to get me in with their normal ped, and I requested a different one. So they got me in with the only male in the practice.
For a minute I felt kinda bad, making my 4 year old daughter show her butt to a guy that she's only met like twice, when she won't hardly let us see it because of the pain.
But I didn't have a choice.
So we went in, and we all went. He asked first about what was going on. So we explained it all. And he asked what the other doc had said, and we told him - sitz bath.
He flat out was like 'that won't work.' Mind you, this was before he even looked at her!!!
So, he did really good with getting her attention, calming her down, redirecting her while he checked out her eyes and ears. Then he looked at her poor little butt.
The minute he looked at it he said 'this is strep'
He let us know that they used to be able to do the rapid strep test (yes, the same one for your throat) in the office, but the FDA said they couldn't do that any longer for the butt. So the only way to 'verify' was a 2 day lab test... which he said right off that it was a bad case, and there was NO WAY he was making Bug wait that long for relief. He was like 'I've seen this multiple times, I promise it's what it is.'
Even with everything going on I chose to trust him.
So she got an antibiotic and a prescription cream.
We are just over a week into the meds and her butt is completely cleared up. She's, for the most part, no longer holding her poop. Sometimes she still does, but I think that's because she's trying to get used to the fact that it doesn't hurt any longer - after all the time that it did.
She's going poop on the potty sometimes. I figure that we're completely starting poop training from the beginning, and I'm OK with that.
And I called a contact I have in the system we use and she is going to help ensure that I can either get in permanent with this doctor we saw, or a new office.
Because I will NEVER. EVER. see that loser of a pediatrician again. She's absolutely worthless and I'm NOT wasting my time for someone that wouldn't take the time to really look at my daughters problem, even after multiple complaints.
It was a good thing K was with us that day, because I'm pretty sure I would have caused a scene when leaving the office. Instead I waited to call until I calmed down.
I'm just thankful that I finally listened to my gut, that I took her to someone else, and that I wasn't crazy. I didn't want anything wrong with her, but it validated that it was SOMETHING, not NOTHING.
And now we can move forward.
My poor little bug.
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Suicide
Suicide is in the forefront of everyone's mind these days.
I'm gonna let you in to some of my dark history, some of the stuff I don't really talk about.
During my early to mid teen years I talked about suicide. Like a lot. I 'wanted' to end things, but I never had the 'courage'. I had a couple of friends that we had it all figured out, how we would do it, when, etc.
I'm beyond glad that I never was so incredibly stupid.
I'm not judging others, so let me make that clear. But when I look at all these wonderful, amazing things I have in my life, I think to myself about how I would have missed all that. How it never would have been. And that is a sad, sad thought to me. A scary thought.
All those bad things, the bad times, the difficulties when I had no idea how to handle the mass of feelings I was having during those tender years, I get why people do it. I don't agree with it. I am amazed by how my life has turned out though.
But I did lose one friend to suicide. That's what I'm here to tell you about.
I met Rachel through some mutual friends when I was around 16. It was during my downward spiral that was my life at that time. I was an addict, and it was getting worse during that time. I was in with a bad crowd, and barely making it through the things that I had obligations to do.
I was a teenager.
And don't get me wrong, I wasn't as bad as other kids out there. I'm not here to compare, I'm here to simply share my experiences.
Rachel was this calming force in our lives. She was about 18 at the time I met her. She was awesome. We all loved her. The guys in our group were infatuated with her.
I saw her as the balance to all of our craziness.
She was my anchor. When I was having a bad day, she's who I called.
When I needed to get away, she's who I called.
When I wanted to laugh and just hang out, she's who I called.
And when I was having a bad trip, she's who I called. She was the only one that could bring me down from the ledges. And there were plenty of times that happened, and plenty of times that she was called. The last time being the worst, and someone else had to call her, and she almost had to come to save me.
We spent a bit of time together for those next few years. We had a lot of fun, and partied hard.
But Rachel had her own demons. She took on everyone else's demons, and never took care of her own. She was in and out of treatment for mental health, but we all thought she was doing good.
Then she wasn't. She spent the better part of a few months in intensive treatment.
Then she tried to end it all.
And then she spent months in inpatient treatment.
It didn't work.
She found the key to her dad's gun cabinet.
She unlocked it and took out a gun.
She put it in her mouth, and pulled the trigger.
She ended those things that she couldn't figure out how to take care of in her own life, all the while taking care of everyone else's issues.
It was 1999, and I remember her funeral like it was yesterday.
And after the funeral, I went out with friends and partied like there was no tomorrow.
And in those moments, those days, those weeks of sorrow I was both jealous of her for having the courage that I didn't, and beyond pissed off at her that she could do that to us, to her friends, her family.
How could she make the decision to end our time with her? I didn't understand it then, and life experiences have helped me to get it in some ways, but not in others.
To this day I love that girl. I ache that she chose to end it when she did.
But it was in the aftermath of that death, the wake of emotions that tore me up beyond belief, that I realized I wanted only one thing.
To live.
To live my life in the best way possible.
To fix the person I was.
To choose life.
It wasn't easy, and it didn't happen overnight. But that was the start of the me that I am now. That was the start of a new life, the life that I live, and love today.
And I couldn't imagine it any other way.
Rachel, I miss you. I miss how giving you were, how thoughtful you were, and how badly you wanted to help everyone in your life, at the expense of your own happiness. I hope beyond hope that you have found peace, and that you are watching down on me now and proud of where I have ended up. I know that had you stuck it out you would be an amazing person today. You would have remained the selfless, loving, caring person that you were back then.
I'm gonna let you in to some of my dark history, some of the stuff I don't really talk about.
During my early to mid teen years I talked about suicide. Like a lot. I 'wanted' to end things, but I never had the 'courage'. I had a couple of friends that we had it all figured out, how we would do it, when, etc.
I'm beyond glad that I never was so incredibly stupid.
I'm not judging others, so let me make that clear. But when I look at all these wonderful, amazing things I have in my life, I think to myself about how I would have missed all that. How it never would have been. And that is a sad, sad thought to me. A scary thought.
All those bad things, the bad times, the difficulties when I had no idea how to handle the mass of feelings I was having during those tender years, I get why people do it. I don't agree with it. I am amazed by how my life has turned out though.
But I did lose one friend to suicide. That's what I'm here to tell you about.
I met Rachel through some mutual friends when I was around 16. It was during my downward spiral that was my life at that time. I was an addict, and it was getting worse during that time. I was in with a bad crowd, and barely making it through the things that I had obligations to do.
I was a teenager.
And don't get me wrong, I wasn't as bad as other kids out there. I'm not here to compare, I'm here to simply share my experiences.
Rachel was this calming force in our lives. She was about 18 at the time I met her. She was awesome. We all loved her. The guys in our group were infatuated with her.
I saw her as the balance to all of our craziness.
She was my anchor. When I was having a bad day, she's who I called.
When I needed to get away, she's who I called.
When I wanted to laugh and just hang out, she's who I called.
And when I was having a bad trip, she's who I called. She was the only one that could bring me down from the ledges. And there were plenty of times that happened, and plenty of times that she was called. The last time being the worst, and someone else had to call her, and she almost had to come to save me.
We spent a bit of time together for those next few years. We had a lot of fun, and partied hard.
But Rachel had her own demons. She took on everyone else's demons, and never took care of her own. She was in and out of treatment for mental health, but we all thought she was doing good.
Then she wasn't. She spent the better part of a few months in intensive treatment.
Then she tried to end it all.
And then she spent months in inpatient treatment.
It didn't work.
She found the key to her dad's gun cabinet.
She unlocked it and took out a gun.
She put it in her mouth, and pulled the trigger.
She ended those things that she couldn't figure out how to take care of in her own life, all the while taking care of everyone else's issues.
It was 1999, and I remember her funeral like it was yesterday.
And after the funeral, I went out with friends and partied like there was no tomorrow.
And in those moments, those days, those weeks of sorrow I was both jealous of her for having the courage that I didn't, and beyond pissed off at her that she could do that to us, to her friends, her family.
How could she make the decision to end our time with her? I didn't understand it then, and life experiences have helped me to get it in some ways, but not in others.
To this day I love that girl. I ache that she chose to end it when she did.
But it was in the aftermath of that death, the wake of emotions that tore me up beyond belief, that I realized I wanted only one thing.
To live.
To live my life in the best way possible.
To fix the person I was.
To choose life.
It wasn't easy, and it didn't happen overnight. But that was the start of the me that I am now. That was the start of a new life, the life that I live, and love today.
And I couldn't imagine it any other way.
Rachel, I miss you. I miss how giving you were, how thoughtful you were, and how badly you wanted to help everyone in your life, at the expense of your own happiness. I hope beyond hope that you have found peace, and that you are watching down on me now and proud of where I have ended up. I know that had you stuck it out you would be an amazing person today. You would have remained the selfless, loving, caring person that you were back then.
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Sometimes, I hate this lifestyle
Because being a pilots wife is a lifestyle, isn't it?
And sometimes I hate it.
Don't get me wrong, sometimes I love it. I love the time that I have in my routine with the kids when K is gone. But I love him coming home. Like really love him coming home. And then that time home with him? It's wonderful, and needed beyond anything I could ever explain.
But sometimes it's really really hard.
K left early this morning for his first week actually 'on the job' after his 3 week training.
Last night we were reading to the kids together before bed, and Goose made it clear that he was ready to nurse. So I left K to finish reading to Bug, and took Goose to bed. After I nursed him, sang to him, and got him down I stepped outside and went to go back into Bug's bedroom. But I paused for a moment and listened before going in.
K was talking to Bug about having to leave this morning. It was low so I just caught snippets of what he was saying.
But it was what Bug said that broke my heart.
When there was a pause in what K was saying, Bug simply said 'No go daddy, no go.'
It simultaneously broke my heart and made me smile. I know it broke his heart too.
I let him have his moment with Bug, and I headed downstairs to finish some things from dinner.
So he told me that he let her he would kiss her good bye this morning. I knew what time he was getting up (4:40) and what time he had to be out the door (5:15) so I didn't want him to go into her room, I knew it would wake her up.
But I couldn't tell him that. He needed to make that decision on his own. And I sure couldn't tell him that he couldn't say good bye to his little girl.
So he did this morning, and she ended up whimpering in bed next to me after he left.
It. Was. Miserable. I felt so bad for her, so horrible, so sad.
K agreed that he wouldn't do a morning good bye again if he left that early. It was miserable for him too as he was trying to pry her arms from around his neck while she cried into his shoulder.
So tonight my mom picked up the kids for me as I had a work function that had me out just a little later than normal. I was home by 6, so in time for dinner and bed. When I got home mom said the kids had been good.
I swear, within 5 minutes, Bug was a MESS. An absolute wreck. Didn't want to eat dinner, didn't want to get ready for bed, do her hair, let Goose get anywhere near to her, let anyone touch her. I tried talking to her about understanding that she misses daddy, but nothing helped.
It finally ended in bedtime without her normal Curious George episode while we get ready, and with no books. She earned back a song by letting me braid her hair.
After I get Goose down, I went back into her room and cuddled with her for a bit. I curled up into her and stroked her hair. I whispered in her ear that I loved her, and that I knew she missed daddy, and so did I. She simply curled into me more and laid there.
I hate that every time he leaves it throws off everyone's routine. I hate seeing what it does to our little girl. I hate that she can't fully communicate just how it affects her.
And sometimes, I hate this lifestyle.
And sometimes I hate it.
Don't get me wrong, sometimes I love it. I love the time that I have in my routine with the kids when K is gone. But I love him coming home. Like really love him coming home. And then that time home with him? It's wonderful, and needed beyond anything I could ever explain.
But sometimes it's really really hard.
K left early this morning for his first week actually 'on the job' after his 3 week training.
Last night we were reading to the kids together before bed, and Goose made it clear that he was ready to nurse. So I left K to finish reading to Bug, and took Goose to bed. After I nursed him, sang to him, and got him down I stepped outside and went to go back into Bug's bedroom. But I paused for a moment and listened before going in.
K was talking to Bug about having to leave this morning. It was low so I just caught snippets of what he was saying.
But it was what Bug said that broke my heart.
When there was a pause in what K was saying, Bug simply said 'No go daddy, no go.'
It simultaneously broke my heart and made me smile. I know it broke his heart too.
I let him have his moment with Bug, and I headed downstairs to finish some things from dinner.
So he told me that he let her he would kiss her good bye this morning. I knew what time he was getting up (4:40) and what time he had to be out the door (5:15) so I didn't want him to go into her room, I knew it would wake her up.
But I couldn't tell him that. He needed to make that decision on his own. And I sure couldn't tell him that he couldn't say good bye to his little girl.
So he did this morning, and she ended up whimpering in bed next to me after he left.
It. Was. Miserable. I felt so bad for her, so horrible, so sad.
K agreed that he wouldn't do a morning good bye again if he left that early. It was miserable for him too as he was trying to pry her arms from around his neck while she cried into his shoulder.
So tonight my mom picked up the kids for me as I had a work function that had me out just a little later than normal. I was home by 6, so in time for dinner and bed. When I got home mom said the kids had been good.
I swear, within 5 minutes, Bug was a MESS. An absolute wreck. Didn't want to eat dinner, didn't want to get ready for bed, do her hair, let Goose get anywhere near to her, let anyone touch her. I tried talking to her about understanding that she misses daddy, but nothing helped.
It finally ended in bedtime without her normal Curious George episode while we get ready, and with no books. She earned back a song by letting me braid her hair.
After I get Goose down, I went back into her room and cuddled with her for a bit. I curled up into her and stroked her hair. I whispered in her ear that I loved her, and that I knew she missed daddy, and so did I. She simply curled into me more and laid there.
I hate that every time he leaves it throws off everyone's routine. I hate seeing what it does to our little girl. I hate that she can't fully communicate just how it affects her.
And sometimes, I hate this lifestyle.
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Day 2
Today was day 2 of our new daycare for the kiddos.
It has been way more smooth than I expected. There were delays in my getting out of there both mornings, but yesterday was worse than today. It took 40 mins to do drop off. I ended up asking at one point if Bug wanted me to call Nana and ask her to pick them up early. She actually didn't answer the question when I asked, but when she finally stopped clinging to me and I was able to leave, she stopped playing for a sec and, without looking at me, said 'call nana. bye bye mama.' It was super adorable.
So my mom, Nana, picked them up yesterday. She typically gets them around 2:30 or 3:00 when she picks them up to help out. Apparently when she got there to get them, neither one of them were particularly interested in leaving.
That makes me so happy!!
Today when I dropped them off Bug was saying 'my school' as we pulled up, with a big smile on her face.
It still took about 20 mins for me to get out of there this morning, but it wasn't nearly as bad as yesterday. Not that yesterday was bad, just lots of clinginess.
They seem like they are really enjoying their time there. I'm hoping this isn't a honeymoon period, but typically daycare switches are not quite like this. I can't really explain it. But this is her 4th daycare since she was about 19 or 20 months old. That's a lot.
This one really might be it!!!
I expected a potty training regression. There's been no regression. She's still going to daycare in underwear, and making it to the potty to go pee. She is still having accidents to go poo, but we're getting there, and I honestly think this daycare is going to help.
I am beyond happy.
On a side note, K comes homes tomorrow after his 3 weeks of training. I. Can't. Wait.
(and if timelines seem a little strange, please note that I'm typing these and then scheduling them to post. So in reality, I probably wrote this a week or two before it actually posted :-) I'm ahead of the game right now ha ha)
Monday, August 18, 2014
Sweet Bug
Potty training continues to go pretty well. She has less and less pee accidents.
Poop though, that's a different story.
At first I thought she just didn't want to poop in the potty. Then it seemed as though she was maybe struggling with constipation.
This weekend I realized I don't think any of that was true all along.
Her poor little butt hurts. I think she's trying to NOT poop.
We've struggled with diaper rash type issues for a while. We've tried all different kinds of things. In the last 6 months I've mentioned it to my 'new' pediatrician who pretty much blew me off. 'Just put her in a sitz bath' was what her answer was each time I mentioned it.
I mean come on, one time the visit was for Goose and I made her look at Bug's butt.
I started to think I was crazy.
Then I was talking to a couple of mom's at work with young kids.
They reminded me to TRUST MY GUT. That if I thought something was wrong it probably was.
So let me back up a step. Not long after Goose was born their pediatrician was noticeably pregnant. She went on maternity leave and never returned. We all LOVED her.
So we had a locum tenon for a while, basically a fill in. She was a really sweet older woman who was retired, but filled in when needed for the system that our peds are in. We really liked her too.
Right before Goose turned a year we 'got' our 'new' pediatrician. During the wait I had asked to change peds within the practice and they said no.
Should have known at that point. But I try so hard to give people the benefit of the doubt.
So we met her for the first time at Goose's 12 month check up. I don't even remember what it was exactly that she said, but when I advised I was still nursing and wasn't in a hurry to stop, she made some comment that I didn't appreciate. Whatever. I let it go and decided to give her a couple chances before I made my judgement. Especially since for most sick visits I did see other docs in the practice.
Well, in the last 6 months we've seen her multiple times between the kids.
My mom put it best during a visit that she went with to help out (both kids going). She said the ped was clinical.
Yep, she's right. At Bug's 4 year check up and Goose's 18 month I realized just how right my mom was. She didn't try to get the kids happy, she didn't try to win their attention, affection, or love. She was clinical and the kids cried The. Entire. Time. All she was interested in doing was forcing Bug to let her see her ears, or Goose to see his teeth. You get the point.
So after those visits I knew I was done. And yes, I brought up her diaper area during that appointment too.
Then the conversation with the other mom's. I. Am. Done.
I delayed the change a little because I knew I needed to get her 4 year shots, and we were changing daycares so I needed them to fill out the medical forms.
Today I had to take her in for her 4 year shots as we couldn't get them at her appointment. I knew going into it that this was the last appointment. I already have the name of a new ped that a friend took her daughter to, and her daughter has had some similar issues to Bug. She loves this ped, says she takes lots of time with them, etc. So, at today's appointment I told the chick at the front desk that Bug is to the point of holding her poo, crying in pain when she goes, etc and could one of the docs, ANY of the docs stop in for a minute to check it out?
Nope. The answer was No.
I came home frustrated. Then for the rest of the evening I had to spend comforting my little girl as she howled in pain while trying to NOT let her body poop as her body NEEDED to poop. Arching her back, locking her knee's, face turning beet red, teeth clenched, butt clenched. Then it got worse because she got something out twice and I had to hold her down each time to wipe her and put something on her butt in hopes it will help. Because she doesn't want it cleaned up, which makes things worse, so much worse.
Seriously, it's gotten so bad that there's ALWAYS a streak in her diaper. When she goes it's a small little bit (and no, it's not hard, it's nice and soft). So she goes CONSTANTLY. Like I'd guess maybe 10 or more times a day. If I bought new underwear every week I'd spend at least $30 a week on underwear. Instead, every evening I wash poo out of underwear while I cry silent tears of worry for my daughter.
So that's it. I'm done. I don't know why I tried to give the benefit of the doubt when this is MY CHILD. My little girl, my first so she's my learning curve.
Tomorrow I call the new doc. Tomorrow I start the process of finding someone who will listen to me that something is NOT right.
Poop though, that's a different story.
At first I thought she just didn't want to poop in the potty. Then it seemed as though she was maybe struggling with constipation.
This weekend I realized I don't think any of that was true all along.
Her poor little butt hurts. I think she's trying to NOT poop.
We've struggled with diaper rash type issues for a while. We've tried all different kinds of things. In the last 6 months I've mentioned it to my 'new' pediatrician who pretty much blew me off. 'Just put her in a sitz bath' was what her answer was each time I mentioned it.
I mean come on, one time the visit was for Goose and I made her look at Bug's butt.
I started to think I was crazy.
Then I was talking to a couple of mom's at work with young kids.
They reminded me to TRUST MY GUT. That if I thought something was wrong it probably was.
So let me back up a step. Not long after Goose was born their pediatrician was noticeably pregnant. She went on maternity leave and never returned. We all LOVED her.
So we had a locum tenon for a while, basically a fill in. She was a really sweet older woman who was retired, but filled in when needed for the system that our peds are in. We really liked her too.
Right before Goose turned a year we 'got' our 'new' pediatrician. During the wait I had asked to change peds within the practice and they said no.
Should have known at that point. But I try so hard to give people the benefit of the doubt.
So we met her for the first time at Goose's 12 month check up. I don't even remember what it was exactly that she said, but when I advised I was still nursing and wasn't in a hurry to stop, she made some comment that I didn't appreciate. Whatever. I let it go and decided to give her a couple chances before I made my judgement. Especially since for most sick visits I did see other docs in the practice.
Well, in the last 6 months we've seen her multiple times between the kids.
My mom put it best during a visit that she went with to help out (both kids going). She said the ped was clinical.
Yep, she's right. At Bug's 4 year check up and Goose's 18 month I realized just how right my mom was. She didn't try to get the kids happy, she didn't try to win their attention, affection, or love. She was clinical and the kids cried The. Entire. Time. All she was interested in doing was forcing Bug to let her see her ears, or Goose to see his teeth. You get the point.
So after those visits I knew I was done. And yes, I brought up her diaper area during that appointment too.
Then the conversation with the other mom's. I. Am. Done.
I delayed the change a little because I knew I needed to get her 4 year shots, and we were changing daycares so I needed them to fill out the medical forms.
Today I had to take her in for her 4 year shots as we couldn't get them at her appointment. I knew going into it that this was the last appointment. I already have the name of a new ped that a friend took her daughter to, and her daughter has had some similar issues to Bug. She loves this ped, says she takes lots of time with them, etc. So, at today's appointment I told the chick at the front desk that Bug is to the point of holding her poo, crying in pain when she goes, etc and could one of the docs, ANY of the docs stop in for a minute to check it out?
Nope. The answer was No.
I came home frustrated. Then for the rest of the evening I had to spend comforting my little girl as she howled in pain while trying to NOT let her body poop as her body NEEDED to poop. Arching her back, locking her knee's, face turning beet red, teeth clenched, butt clenched. Then it got worse because she got something out twice and I had to hold her down each time to wipe her and put something on her butt in hopes it will help. Because she doesn't want it cleaned up, which makes things worse, so much worse.
Seriously, it's gotten so bad that there's ALWAYS a streak in her diaper. When she goes it's a small little bit (and no, it's not hard, it's nice and soft). So she goes CONSTANTLY. Like I'd guess maybe 10 or more times a day. If I bought new underwear every week I'd spend at least $30 a week on underwear. Instead, every evening I wash poo out of underwear while I cry silent tears of worry for my daughter.
So that's it. I'm done. I don't know why I tried to give the benefit of the doubt when this is MY CHILD. My little girl, my first so she's my learning curve.
Tomorrow I call the new doc. Tomorrow I start the process of finding someone who will listen to me that something is NOT right.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Gender Roles
So we don't really believe in gender roles in this family.
It's nothing we ever really thought about, or talked about, it just is who we are and always have been.
K loves to cook and clean. Maybe even a little more than I do. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy both as well. Let's be honest, if I didn't, then we'd eventually starve while he is gone (or be really fat from eating lots of fast food) and my house would be condemned because it would be so gross. (don't worry, it's not :-))
I enjoy mowing the lawn, doing 'work' around the house. I've done lots of tiling job, some plumbing, lots of painting, I've helped to lay lots of pergo type flooring, etc etc. I really really enjoy it actually. Put it this way, I was the one who tiled part of my parents house by myself (a small part, but whatever) when I was around 6 or 7 months pregnant with Goose.
And I'd bet that the majority of pilots wives are similar, after all, we have to deal with all the crap while our pilots are away.
So anyways.
One of the difficulties of being a pilots wife is sometimes fitting all that crap in. Especially with 2 kids. It's really exhausting sometimes, and sometimes I really don't want to do it, and put something off as long as possible.
So we've actually had a lot going on recently. My best friends wedding, then her reception 3 weeks later back home in T town. My friend's angel babies 4 birthday party. Finding a new daycare, preparing to move the kids to said new daycare. Lot's of craziness going on at work.
So, mowing the lawn. I actually enjoy doing it. But I'd enjoy it even more if I could be like 'hey K, I'm gonna go mow the lawn, so have fun playing with the kids while I do so.' But that's not the reality. I'm mowing because he's gone. So I'm doing it in the evenings, after the kids are in bed, after the dinner dishes are cleaned up, and before I shower and do whatever else needs done.
Yeah. That kinda sucks sometimes.
I've figured out how to make it work for me though. I break it down into 2 nights. I'll do the front lawn one night, the back lawn another. It helps to break it down, and as long as I time it right (and don't leave, you know, days and days between the 2 halves) then it actually works out really well.
So I mowed the front lawn 2 nights ago. It wasn't too long so I was able to mulch it, which was nice. But I choose the front lawn that night because the back lawn was already longer, and mulching couldn't happen. And it was a day I took a PTO day to spend with the kids, to take them to meet their new teachers, and I ended up feeling like crap. Dizzy, headachy, stuffy, sinusy, etc. And the kids were HORRIBLE. ALL DAY.
So I picked the easy way, and did the front lawn, and didn't bag it but mulched instead.
So tonight I had to do the back lawn before you know, the neighbors or the city called to see if we were still alive. Cause it was long people.
But the backyard always needs cleaned up first, you know, chairs, the kids pool, toys, and all that fun stuff. and the pool needed emptied of course, which I can't just dump it, I feel like I need to use the water to water the gardens, so as not to waste that precious resource. (timing here is interesting, as T town (my hometown) just had some severe water issues recently with some pretty serious toxins in the water supply. Like they couldn't even boil it. Fun times).
So I take care of cleaning up and get to mowing. As I'm working, I'm writing this post in my head, enjoying myself even though I was SO ready to be chilling watching TV.
And the mower starts putting and coughing halfway through. And I'm begging and pleading like the dang thing is one of my kids, NOT to run out of gas.
And like our kids so often do, it ignores me.
It puts it's way right to not moving anymore.
And in my non gender role gender moment, I had to call K and explain that like another child, it didn't listen and ran out of gas.
And I had NO idea where the gas was. In fact, I was just HOPING that there was more gas, as I was looking at half mowed, half long hair looking back at me. And silently I hung my head while laughing at myself that as I was writing this post in my head about gender roles, I had to call K to tell me where the gas was. Gotta love moments like those.
Needless to say, by the time everything was done, I finished the last bit of mowing without really being able to see what I was doing, and where I was needing to go.
Always love moments like these :-)
It's nothing we ever really thought about, or talked about, it just is who we are and always have been.
K loves to cook and clean. Maybe even a little more than I do. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy both as well. Let's be honest, if I didn't, then we'd eventually starve while he is gone (or be really fat from eating lots of fast food) and my house would be condemned because it would be so gross. (don't worry, it's not :-))
I enjoy mowing the lawn, doing 'work' around the house. I've done lots of tiling job, some plumbing, lots of painting, I've helped to lay lots of pergo type flooring, etc etc. I really really enjoy it actually. Put it this way, I was the one who tiled part of my parents house by myself (a small part, but whatever) when I was around 6 or 7 months pregnant with Goose.
And I'd bet that the majority of pilots wives are similar, after all, we have to deal with all the crap while our pilots are away.
So anyways.
One of the difficulties of being a pilots wife is sometimes fitting all that crap in. Especially with 2 kids. It's really exhausting sometimes, and sometimes I really don't want to do it, and put something off as long as possible.
So we've actually had a lot going on recently. My best friends wedding, then her reception 3 weeks later back home in T town. My friend's angel babies 4 birthday party. Finding a new daycare, preparing to move the kids to said new daycare. Lot's of craziness going on at work.
So, mowing the lawn. I actually enjoy doing it. But I'd enjoy it even more if I could be like 'hey K, I'm gonna go mow the lawn, so have fun playing with the kids while I do so.' But that's not the reality. I'm mowing because he's gone. So I'm doing it in the evenings, after the kids are in bed, after the dinner dishes are cleaned up, and before I shower and do whatever else needs done.
Yeah. That kinda sucks sometimes.
I've figured out how to make it work for me though. I break it down into 2 nights. I'll do the front lawn one night, the back lawn another. It helps to break it down, and as long as I time it right (and don't leave, you know, days and days between the 2 halves) then it actually works out really well.
So I mowed the front lawn 2 nights ago. It wasn't too long so I was able to mulch it, which was nice. But I choose the front lawn that night because the back lawn was already longer, and mulching couldn't happen. And it was a day I took a PTO day to spend with the kids, to take them to meet their new teachers, and I ended up feeling like crap. Dizzy, headachy, stuffy, sinusy, etc. And the kids were HORRIBLE. ALL DAY.
So I picked the easy way, and did the front lawn, and didn't bag it but mulched instead.
So tonight I had to do the back lawn before you know, the neighbors or the city called to see if we were still alive. Cause it was long people.
But the backyard always needs cleaned up first, you know, chairs, the kids pool, toys, and all that fun stuff. and the pool needed emptied of course, which I can't just dump it, I feel like I need to use the water to water the gardens, so as not to waste that precious resource. (timing here is interesting, as T town (my hometown) just had some severe water issues recently with some pretty serious toxins in the water supply. Like they couldn't even boil it. Fun times).
So I take care of cleaning up and get to mowing. As I'm working, I'm writing this post in my head, enjoying myself even though I was SO ready to be chilling watching TV.
And the mower starts putting and coughing halfway through. And I'm begging and pleading like the dang thing is one of my kids, NOT to run out of gas.
And like our kids so often do, it ignores me.
It puts it's way right to not moving anymore.
And in my non gender role gender moment, I had to call K and explain that like another child, it didn't listen and ran out of gas.
And I had NO idea where the gas was. In fact, I was just HOPING that there was more gas, as I was looking at half mowed, half long hair looking back at me. And silently I hung my head while laughing at myself that as I was writing this post in my head about gender roles, I had to call K to tell me where the gas was. Gotta love moments like those.
Needless to say, by the time everything was done, I finished the last bit of mowing without really being able to see what I was doing, and where I was needing to go.
Always love moments like these :-)
Saturday, August 9, 2014
The Pilot Changes
So K was working for a local regional carrier.
And the mainline that that regional carrier did their thing for, well, they closed their hub here.
So the regional carrier ended up losing flights in the mix.
So K went from being domiciled here, to being domiciled in Washington DC.
And he still had lower seniority, so he was only getting a couple of nights worth of hotel room paid for. And crappy (non) routes as he was getting put on reserve.
So that meant no per diem. And we had to cover his crash pad.
Seriously people, we were paying for him to work.
It was getting more and more stressful.
So, he went looking. Well, not really, but he talked to someone that he knows that works at DPJ, and she talked to the Chief Pilot for him.
Interview happened. Job offer happened.
So, he took it. Got a raise, became home based. He's no longer nervous about being 'stuck' in this type of job, he thinks he can still move up to a mainline.
He'll have an 8 day work schedule. Tuesday to Tuesday. Consistent, which is NICE in this industry. I know there will be trips that last longer, and the yearly training will be in his off time, but who cares. I'll take it.
I told him it didn't matter to me, as long as it didn't harm our family and it made him happy.
So he's currently almost through his 3 week training.
Since I start back to school soon, I'm curious to see how he handles both kids, daycare pick up, dinner, and bed time, when he is home. It'll be interesting as he's never really had to do it before with both of them. My mom is going to watch them when he's working on my class days.
I am SO ready for him to be home. Some days have been easy and others tough. That's how it goes and I'm OK with that.
But I miss the man. Oh do I miss him.
I can't wait for his return!!
And the mainline that that regional carrier did their thing for, well, they closed their hub here.
So the regional carrier ended up losing flights in the mix.
So K went from being domiciled here, to being domiciled in Washington DC.
And he still had lower seniority, so he was only getting a couple of nights worth of hotel room paid for. And crappy (non) routes as he was getting put on reserve.
So that meant no per diem. And we had to cover his crash pad.
Seriously people, we were paying for him to work.
It was getting more and more stressful.
So, he went looking. Well, not really, but he talked to someone that he knows that works at DPJ, and she talked to the Chief Pilot for him.
Interview happened. Job offer happened.
So, he took it. Got a raise, became home based. He's no longer nervous about being 'stuck' in this type of job, he thinks he can still move up to a mainline.
He'll have an 8 day work schedule. Tuesday to Tuesday. Consistent, which is NICE in this industry. I know there will be trips that last longer, and the yearly training will be in his off time, but who cares. I'll take it.
I told him it didn't matter to me, as long as it didn't harm our family and it made him happy.
So he's currently almost through his 3 week training.
Since I start back to school soon, I'm curious to see how he handles both kids, daycare pick up, dinner, and bed time, when he is home. It'll be interesting as he's never really had to do it before with both of them. My mom is going to watch them when he's working on my class days.
I am SO ready for him to be home. Some days have been easy and others tough. That's how it goes and I'm OK with that.
But I miss the man. Oh do I miss him.
I can't wait for his return!!
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
It's about time....
So, part of the reason I haven't posted much in recent months (well, other than the obvious 2 kids and part time single mom status) is because I didn't have a working computer. Our desktop took a crap a while back, and our laptop finally stopped allowing blogger to work correctly.
Then my work stopped letting me post.
So I was trying to post from my phone, or K's IPAD, or my nook... all of the above were a pain in the butt to post from, and left all my posts in a freaking mass with no separation or anything.
It was annoying.
So. I got a new computer today! I get to actually post again!
You know, when I have time. Between the 2 kids, and part time single mom status.
Oh yeah, and school. Because after 8 years I finally took the leap, and I start back for my MBA in about 3 weeks.
And holy crap, I'm scared. I mean, I'm excited too, but I'm scared. It's been a while since I've done the school thing, and doing it with all the above mentioned items as part of the mix, well, I'm nervous.
But it's OK, I'm gonna make it happen.
So deep breathing, and here's to moving on with good things in my life.
Then my work stopped letting me post.
So I was trying to post from my phone, or K's IPAD, or my nook... all of the above were a pain in the butt to post from, and left all my posts in a freaking mass with no separation or anything.
It was annoying.
So. I got a new computer today! I get to actually post again!
You know, when I have time. Between the 2 kids, and part time single mom status.
Oh yeah, and school. Because after 8 years I finally took the leap, and I start back for my MBA in about 3 weeks.
And holy crap, I'm scared. I mean, I'm excited too, but I'm scared. It's been a while since I've done the school thing, and doing it with all the above mentioned items as part of the mix, well, I'm nervous.
But it's OK, I'm gonna make it happen.
So deep breathing, and here's to moving on with good things in my life.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
Speech Delay
My bug is getting so big.
Where has the time gone? Where has it disappeared to?
And why don’t I feel like I know my little girl as good as I should? Why do I look at her and think to myself that there’s so much in her life that I don’t know, that she can’t communicate to me.
There’s so much to HER and WHO she is that she can’t share with me. It’s so hard to see other kids her age that will ask me ‘why doesn’t she talk.’ It’s heartbreaking. It’s made more heartbreaking as they go on to have ENTIRE conversations with me. Or another kid. Or a teacher, or another parent.
When I know I’m lucky if I get a few words strung together to make a pseudo sentence. It makes me worry for her.
I don’t want her to be an outcast, left to the sidelines by her inability to communicate. I don’t want her to burrow into her own little shell and give up. I look at her every day and realize how much she has grown, not physically (although she has!) but in the person that she is. In her verbal skills. She has SO MANY words today compared to a year ago. She TRIES so much more than she ever did.
But so much of it is difficult to understand to an outsider. So much of it isn’t clear enough that sometimes WE can’t figure it out. When we are out and about people love to say ‘hi’ to her. She’s a cute kid, and it seems like people love to try to talk to her. She typically looks at them and doesn’t say a word. Sometimes she’ll hide behind me, so sometimes people take it as shyness, the whole ‘don’t talk to strangers’ thing.
Other times not so much.
People will ask how old she is, and when I tell them ‘almost 4’ I get the look. The look like I’m somehow not doing enough to get her to talk. Even with prompting.
It’s even worse if they can see she’s wearing a diaper. Heaven forbid, WHY isn’t your 4 year old POTTY TRAINED!? I swear I can hear their internal dialogue.
‘You’re not doing enough.’
‘What kind of parent are you?’
‘You obviously haven’t tried everything in the book.
‘Just let her run around naked.’
Or ‘just put her in underwear’ or ‘put a pull up on over the underwear’
Like I haven’t tried everything. Like I haven’t attempted. Like I haven’t begged and pleaded and cried and thrown my own adult sized tantrum in hopes that she’ll Just. Do. It. But she won’t do it for me. I know that. She’ll do it in her own time, I just don’t know when that time is.
I read with her and try so hard to get her to repeat after me. Sometimes she will. Others not so much.
I’ve tried bribing her to potty with Everything. Under. The. Sun. Seriously people, I TRY. But she has to want it too. She rolled late. She sat up late. She walked late. But she’s smart as a whip. I can see that. And to all those people that always said ‘she’ll talk in her own time and then you’ll wish she’d just stop.’ You know, the old adage of ‘we teach them to walk and talk so that we can spend the rest of their lives telling them to sit down and shut up.’
I hate that. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Do you know how badly I want to hear her voice say an ungarbled, fully understandable sentence? Do you know how badly I want to hear her tell me about her day? Do you know how badly I want to hear her ask the WHY questions over and over and over again until I want to rip my hair out??
Because that would mean my baby girl is communicating to me. That would mean I have a chance to get to know her and what her interests are, what she spends her day doing at daycare/preschool, who her favorite friend is and more importantly WHY that is. I don’t want to have to drag out of her that ‘yes’ she colored or ‘no’ she did not.
I want to know her sense of humor. Because I know it’s there, but I don’t get to hear it.
I want to know WHY she doesn’t want to take a bath tonight.
I want to know what makes her love ‘monkey’ so much.
I want to know what SHE wants for dinner tonight. Or lunch tomorrow. Or what kind of ice cream she wants at the ice cream shop. I want to hear her ask me why the sky is blue and the grass is green, and so many other things that I may or may not know the answer too.
I want to know my little girl more than I feel I do now.
And that feeling, that feeling of not knowing your 4 year old, is soul crushing and heart wrenching.
Update: I actually wrote this post almost a month ago, and felt it deserved to be published. The only change I made was the very first line where I originally said she was 'almost 4' so as not to confuse people after her birthday post. I felt it was important to post, but also to give a quick update. Bug has been wearing big girl underwear during the day for almost an entire week now. She still has accidents, but SHE wants to wear them, and has started to have near meltdowns when I try to put her in underwear. So I'm hoping that she's finally making the decision that she is ready, that it is time. She's going potty on the potty with no prompting at times and only a little prompting at others. We are changing daycare centers next week (hope to write about that later), and I'm hoping, hoping, hoping that we don't revert back to 'baby diapers' due to that change. I don't care that I'm doing a lot of extra laundry - anything to help get this girl in underwear full time :-)
Where has the time gone? Where has it disappeared to?
And why don’t I feel like I know my little girl as good as I should? Why do I look at her and think to myself that there’s so much in her life that I don’t know, that she can’t communicate to me.
There’s so much to HER and WHO she is that she can’t share with me. It’s so hard to see other kids her age that will ask me ‘why doesn’t she talk.’ It’s heartbreaking. It’s made more heartbreaking as they go on to have ENTIRE conversations with me. Or another kid. Or a teacher, or another parent.
When I know I’m lucky if I get a few words strung together to make a pseudo sentence. It makes me worry for her.
I don’t want her to be an outcast, left to the sidelines by her inability to communicate. I don’t want her to burrow into her own little shell and give up. I look at her every day and realize how much she has grown, not physically (although she has!) but in the person that she is. In her verbal skills. She has SO MANY words today compared to a year ago. She TRIES so much more than she ever did.
But so much of it is difficult to understand to an outsider. So much of it isn’t clear enough that sometimes WE can’t figure it out. When we are out and about people love to say ‘hi’ to her. She’s a cute kid, and it seems like people love to try to talk to her. She typically looks at them and doesn’t say a word. Sometimes she’ll hide behind me, so sometimes people take it as shyness, the whole ‘don’t talk to strangers’ thing.
Other times not so much.
People will ask how old she is, and when I tell them ‘almost 4’ I get the look. The look like I’m somehow not doing enough to get her to talk. Even with prompting.
It’s even worse if they can see she’s wearing a diaper. Heaven forbid, WHY isn’t your 4 year old POTTY TRAINED!? I swear I can hear their internal dialogue.
‘You’re not doing enough.’
‘What kind of parent are you?’
‘You obviously haven’t tried everything in the book.
‘Just let her run around naked.’
Or ‘just put her in underwear’ or ‘put a pull up on over the underwear’
Like I haven’t tried everything. Like I haven’t attempted. Like I haven’t begged and pleaded and cried and thrown my own adult sized tantrum in hopes that she’ll Just. Do. It. But she won’t do it for me. I know that. She’ll do it in her own time, I just don’t know when that time is.
I read with her and try so hard to get her to repeat after me. Sometimes she will. Others not so much.
I’ve tried bribing her to potty with Everything. Under. The. Sun. Seriously people, I TRY. But she has to want it too. She rolled late. She sat up late. She walked late. But she’s smart as a whip. I can see that. And to all those people that always said ‘she’ll talk in her own time and then you’ll wish she’d just stop.’ You know, the old adage of ‘we teach them to walk and talk so that we can spend the rest of their lives telling them to sit down and shut up.’
I hate that. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Do you know how badly I want to hear her voice say an ungarbled, fully understandable sentence? Do you know how badly I want to hear her tell me about her day? Do you know how badly I want to hear her ask the WHY questions over and over and over again until I want to rip my hair out??
Because that would mean my baby girl is communicating to me. That would mean I have a chance to get to know her and what her interests are, what she spends her day doing at daycare/preschool, who her favorite friend is and more importantly WHY that is. I don’t want to have to drag out of her that ‘yes’ she colored or ‘no’ she did not.
I want to know her sense of humor. Because I know it’s there, but I don’t get to hear it.
I want to know WHY she doesn’t want to take a bath tonight.
I want to know what makes her love ‘monkey’ so much.
I want to know what SHE wants for dinner tonight. Or lunch tomorrow. Or what kind of ice cream she wants at the ice cream shop. I want to hear her ask me why the sky is blue and the grass is green, and so many other things that I may or may not know the answer too.
I want to know my little girl more than I feel I do now.
And that feeling, that feeling of not knowing your 4 year old, is soul crushing and heart wrenching.
Update: I actually wrote this post almost a month ago, and felt it deserved to be published. The only change I made was the very first line where I originally said she was 'almost 4' so as not to confuse people after her birthday post. I felt it was important to post, but also to give a quick update. Bug has been wearing big girl underwear during the day for almost an entire week now. She still has accidents, but SHE wants to wear them, and has started to have near meltdowns when I try to put her in underwear. So I'm hoping that she's finally making the decision that she is ready, that it is time. She's going potty on the potty with no prompting at times and only a little prompting at others. We are changing daycare centers next week (hope to write about that later), and I'm hoping, hoping, hoping that we don't revert back to 'baby diapers' due to that change. I don't care that I'm doing a lot of extra laundry - anything to help get this girl in underwear full time :-)
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