40 Days

I'm on an email list for Richmond's 40 Days For Life campaign, despite the fact that I haven't participated since becoming a mom. I click on the sometimes daily emails, but rarely read them.

Then yesterday something made me not only read, but decide to go. I think it was a Lent thing. I don't mind going to 40 Days - when I used to go several times a week, I actually liked it, in a way - but the thought of going with my kids terrified me. Any time I had a passing thought of going I would immediately get a mental picture of my kids screaming and moaning for me to leave. I couldn't imagine them putting up with being in the stroller but not really going anywhere. 

And then there's what I really hate - getting them all ready, buckling them into car seats, getting them out, buckling them into the stroller, getting them back into their car seats, putting the stroller in the trunk... well, that is my idea of penance. 

So, I knew I had to go. The second I began to think about how much I didn't want to do it, I knew it was the perfect opportunity to stretch myself on this Lenten Friday. And so I did. 

It helped that it was a beautiful day - 80 degrees and sunny. And, to my surprise, Clara and Luke were amazing. They sat through two Rosaries (we walked back and forth in front of the abortion clinic) without making a peep. We prayed with two nice ladies until they had to leave, and since no one else showed up, I decided to stay until my kids became unruly. We ended up staying another hour! 

I let Clara get out of the stroller for the last ten minutes, which she loved. She even waved to passing cars. 

They had a lot to look at, which was key. There was a busy intersection for them to watch, the occasional fire truck, and lots of dogs. I think Luke was barking for about ten minutes straight at one point. 

I'm going to try to go with them every Friday now that I know they can handle it. But then there's me. I have a lot of work to do. As I walked back and forth, praying the Rosary, nearly out of breath in the 80 degree sun, I compared it in my mind to running. I don't particularly like running, I'm not the type of person who would choose to run just for the fun of it. If I did run, I'd be so tired that with every step I would want to quit. But when it was over, I'd be happy I did it. 

That's how praying is for me. I'm out of shape. Very out of shape. Forty minutes in, and with fifty to go, I was mentally exhausted. I wanted to pack it all in and go home. 

What a terrible thing to admit, right? I should love praying. Love saying the Rosary. And the heartache that abortion causes me should make me want to stand out there hours on end. 

But I'm weak. 

So, in the end, I learned it's not about my kids hacking it. It's about their mother. Hopefully with God's grace, I can get myself there at least once a week this Lent. It's the least I can do. 

Sibling craziness

About a month ago, Clara, Luke and I were at a friend's house for a play date. The mother noticed and commented on the fact that my kids got along so well together.

"Are they always this good with each other?" she asked, surprised.

"Ya, I guess," I said, realizing I hadn't ever given it much thought. "They never really fight and if they both want the same thing, or Clara gives Luke a little push or something, she immediately seems to feel bad and gives him a kiss."

Going in for the kiss

I felt weird saying my kids got along so well. Was I glossing over the bad? Had I missed their fighting? No, I was fairly confident I would have noticed it.

Later that night as I was going over the conversation with Ryan, we remembered a few other people had recently pointed it out as well. So I started thinking - were my kids angels? Or was one of them an angel? The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Luke was a normal one-year-old boy who likes to barge in and take whatever he wants, and Clara was extremely patient with him. He would come right up to her and steal her sippy cup or toy, and she would just let him have it. 

The reason there was no fighting was all because of Clara. My sweet, patient Clara.

Sharing with her baby bro

Well, those days are over. Give her a dose of a nasty virus plus a double ear infection and barely any sleep for a few weeks and the girl is fighting back. At least for now, she is no longer turning the other cheek and kissing her baby brother on the head when he steals her toy. She is cranky and fed up.

And that means my kids are crazy. Ca-ray-zee. They fight all day long. Whatever toy one of them is playing with, the other wants it, tries to get it, a battle ensues and both end up crying, screaming and pushing.

I'm not sure how to handle it because a) I usually don't know who started it, b) Luke's not even a year-and-a-half and our pediatrician swears he won't "get" time-out, c) I think she has a point because all the kid does is laugh when he's in trouble, and d) I gave up yelling for Lent. Any suggestions?

Today, Ryan had them outside blowing bubbles while I made lunch and I could hear him start to yell. It turns out they both wanted a stick and they ended up wrestling on the ground. My babies! Is it bad that the mental picture actually makes me chuckle? It probably wouldn't if I'd been the one with them at the time.

This one is FULL of it lately (and his eye is infected here, in case you noticed)

I'm hoping this will pass when Clara feels 100-percent again. I'm hoping she goes back to being this ridiculously understanding two-year-old who gets that Luke's a baby and she's the big girl. I'm hoping she starts just kissing him again when he wrongs her. 

But I'm not holding my breath.

So by the time I realized I had a very patient two-year-old, her patience had run out. I don't blame her. I never had a little brother, but I can imagine they're not all sunshine and roses. Well, our Bruisey is pretty sunshine-y. And, seriously, how can you not share with this sweet ginger...

Yes, she'll be back under his spell in no time ;)

Anger

First, I just wanted to thank you all for your prayers that I asked for on my last post. Mom and baby are doing great. Baby Eric will be in the NICU for several more weeks, as can be expected in situations like this, but is doing well. So again, thank you!

*******

I've been angry lately.

It's like this uncontrollable rage inside of me that spews from my mouth in the direction of (usually) my husband and (sometimes) my babies. Things that should be small issues, handled delicately, with a soft voice instead become the BIGGEST PROBLEM OF ALL TIME.

I see it happening. I feel the tension build in my mind. I'm just going to bring it up, I tell myself, because then I'll feel better. It won't be a huge issue, I lie.

And then, like clockwork, I sound mean and snotty and all hell breaks loose. Probably also because it's not the one time I rudely pointed something out, but the fifteenth time that morning.

With the kids, I hear my strained voice when I yell their name. I feel it when I pick Clara up to carry her to time out. I'm short and mean.

I'd love to blame it on PMS. Or, at this point, I should probably call it just general "hormones." Unless I go with a four-week-long PMS. I guess I can take my pick.

Or, I could blame it on the whole state of affairs in this country. This has been my personal preference for blame on most days. Even one liberal status update on Facebook can send me into a tailspin. Or the news. Or television shows. Don't even get me started. I had to turn SNL off the other night and vowed to never watch again. I make a vow like that at least once a week and they rarely hold. But it's really getting to me, as it should because it's our faith, our country, our children's future, precious unborn babies being murdered every day. But as horrible as all that is, I can't let it control my home life, you know? And I don't think Jesus wants it to cause me to yell at my husband about how he doesn't sweep the floor right (oh, yes I have). I'll gladly accept any tips on finding a healthy way to compartmentalize this.

Sometimes I wonder if this is how I'm subconsciously dealing with secondary infertility. It's so different from before. Instead of having sadness and despair, it's causing me anxiety. I'm on edge. Maybe that's turning into emotional outbursts directed at the ones I love.

I could also try to blame it on the fact that Clara's been sick for more than a week and now I am too. And Clara was sick a few weeks ago too, which means she wasn't sleeping through the night for the better part of a month. Clara waking up means Luke sometimes waking up, which means both parents up (that's not counting Luke's first waking, which happens every night around 9 or 10). And Clara's just crazy when she wakes in the night. Inconsolable. Speaking of inconsolable, she's been like that during the day lately too, which the doctor says is from her being sick. I hope so. If this is the start of the true Terrible Two's then I think I'll need a therapist.

I got in a fight with my iphone the other day. No, really. I even picked it for no reason. I didn't even need Siri's help, but I randomly decided to tell her that she never, ever helps me (she doesn't). I told her Apple needs to make her work better. And that if I wanted to google something, then I'd just do that in the first place.

After a little back and forth, it ended with her telling me she was sorry she let me down. I apologized, too, for getting so upset.

When I told Ryan that story he immediately asked why I apologized to her, when I rarely do to him. Because her apology was just so sincere, I said. She was sorry she let me down. I think I really needed to hear that.

So, clearly, I have a problem. Ryan doesn't deserve it, and my kids definitely don't. And I think while all of the reasons I list may contribute to my anger, it's really all my fault.

If I was smarter and more introspective, this would be the part of the post where I explain why it's all my fault, which would likely have something to do with pride and my relationship with God. But, I'm not, so instead I'll say this: I'm going to spend the next 40 days trying to figure it out.

And not just figuring out why I'm angry - because does that really matter? - but, rather, how I can be not angry.

And "not angry" is not the opposite of happy. Because I'm extremely happy. I'm happy, joyful, I have fun. I just have outbursts of anger. I turn the heat unnecessarily up. I have a difficult time controlling myself.

So I hope and pray that I can get it under control. I'm going to eliminate some of the obvious causes, like Facebook. I'm going to give my children more attention by not having my phone in the room with us. I'm going to start going to Adoration once again. I'm going to even call my doctor and ask for another form of progesterone (hello, 8-day luteal phase) since I can't handle prometrium.

And I'm going to use my best Mrs. Duggar-voice, and not just with the kids. I'm going to try at least once a day to let something go, not tell my husband what he did wrong, or forgot to do. And then maybe I'll build up each week to two, or three things a day. Sometimes I pretend I'm a nun who's good at stuff like that. Is that weird?

And I'm going to blog. I'm fasting from Facebook, but not the internet in general. And if I'm not on there, I'll want to be on here more. But the good thing about that is we only have a desktop, so I can only do it at night when the kids are in bed. Maybe I'll report weekly about how I'm doing, what amazing insight is sure to come to me in Adoration (why was I gone so long? That could be my whole problem right there), and how I'm hopefully becoming less angry.

And if you have any advice, please share. My family will thank you :)

Prayer request

My sister's childhood best friend went into labor due to a ruptured uterus today at 30 weeks. Her son was born weighing 3 lbs 4 oz. We don't have too many details on exactly how her friend and her baby are doing, but she was able to talk to her so she must be relatively okay. My sister specifically requested that I post this prayer request, though, to ask all of you to please pray for this new mother. Her name is Heidi, and the baby is Eric.

O Most Blessed Trinity, I your unworthy creature, thank you for all the gifts and privileges which you have granted to Saint Gerard, especially for those virtues with which you have adorned him on earth and the glory which you impart to him in heaven.

Accomplish your work, O Lord, for the greater glory of the Holy Church.

Glorify him before men and women and through his merits, in union with those of Jesus and Mary, grant me the grace for which I ask for the full recovery of baby Eric and his mother Heidi.

And you, my powerful intercessor St. Gerard, always so ready to help those who have recourse to you, pray also for me.

Prostrate yourself before the throne of Divine Mercy and please do not leave it without being heard.

To you I confide this important and urgent affair.

Graciously take my cause in hand and let me not end this novena without having experienced in some way the effects of your intercession.

Amen.

As you may recall, Clara was born at 30 weeks as well. And while we weren't around for the first few days, which may have been very touch-and-go, I can imagine how tough it must be to watch your tiny baby get all sorts of interventions. I pray that little Eric pulls through as miraculously as Clara has. 

And, while no where near as urgent, if you have a second, please add a little prayer for Clara. She has a terrible diaper rash that is causing her extreme discomfort. It may be an infection, and she has a doctor's appointment tomorrow to find out (the doctor's already seen her once for it and we've tried all over-the-counter remedies we can). But tonight she spiked a fever and I freaked out for a while thinking you add THREE points to an underarm reading. It's actually one, and that makes a big difference. An ear infection she had last week may have returned, I'm not sure. We shall see. I'm just hoping they can give her something to make her bottom more comfortable, poor baby.

So thank you so much for the prayers. This blogging community is well known among my family and friends for powerful prayers, so it means a lot to them that you take the time to add these special intentions to your own. Hopefully I'll let you know how our friend and her new baby are doing in the near future.

Saints for dinner

After all the seriousness of late, I just had to lighten things up with a baby post.

We've begun, rather by accident, inviting different saints to join us for dinner.

One night Clara had brought her St. Maximilian Kolbe doll into her highchair with her, which I promptly took away and placed on the table near her.

When it came time to say grace, we got to the part where we add our special intentions (a time when Clara often yells out people she wants to pray for), she said "Kolbe" or, rather, "kopee." I couldn't believe it! So I turned it into a chance to teach her about asking Kolbe to pray for us.

According to Clara, St. Therese and St. Maximilian Kolbe were sleeping. 

So now either "Kolbe" or St. Therese, Our Lady of Guadalupe, or even Jesus Himself, takes a seat at our table, and we ask them for their intercession during grace.

Clara hugs St. Maximilian after dropping him.

On a side note, Clara has also learned that Kolbe is Luke's middle name, which she has really taken a liking to. If we ask her who Kolbe is, she'll point to either the doll or Luke. And she even sometimes calls Luke, "Lukie Kolbe."

Today, she actually called him "Kolbe Lukie," which was weird since Kolbe was almost his first name.

Luke has taken a special interest in the dolls, too (or "action figures," as Ryan likes to call them). Although today I needed to gently explain to him that we don't bang St. Therese on our glass door.

Hopefully she understands.

I'm ticked

You might have seen this picture, or one like it, going around facebook...

It really ticked me off when I saw it this afternoon, and I've been stewing about it all day. It's such a weak argument (one usually followed by that other stellar argument that someone is a man and has no right making decisions about someone's womb).

So, if the above statement is true, then so is this...

I, for one, am glad and not at all intimidated by the fact that there are laws set up to protect those two precious children of mine. Yes, I decide what they wear each day, where they'll go to school, and what they eat. But I don't get to decide if they deserve to be hit, abused, neglected, or worse. No, the government has already made those decisions for me. I can't beat them. I can't kill them. End of story.

So I'm sorry, but the argument that my va-jay-jay-is-my-business-so-stay-out-of-it doesn't fly with me. Luke wasn't one of my organs. He was a separate, living human being. A boy. A child. He deserved protection then and now. All babies do.

And, yes, I'm preaching to the choir, but I just needed to vent. I now feel a tiny bit better.

Cycle talk once again

I hate talking about my cycles. It's all too familiar, and instantly makes me think there aren't two babies asleep in their rooms across the hall right now. I have to remember they're there or else I'll think it's 2008. 

With yet another failed cycle, I'm trying to decide what to do next. I am suddenly very reminded of my infertile years, when I wouldn't have a future appointment set up with my doctor, yet no real course of action to take either. Do I call to schedule an appointment just to talk about what's next? Is it worth the two-hour drive?

I think I'm going to call and try to get some answers over the phone. I'm going to ask for a low dose (what I was on when I got pregnant) of hydrocortisone. Even though a recent saliva test didn't show adrenal fatigue (where two years ago it showed severe adrenal fatigue), I don't feel right in much the same way as before. The hc did wonders back then, and whether or not it led to me conceiving we might never know, but I'd love to try it again. My cortisol levels are okay though, so maybe my doctor will say we shouldn't mess with them. 

I was also on the low GI diet back then, and had hoped I'd be pregnant again before having to re-start it. No such luck. So it looks like I'm going to get back on the wagon. No white flour, no sugar. Ugh. Those are my two main food groups at the moment. And, in case you're wondering, I wasn't as quick to get going with it again because blood tests showed that my hormones weren't as off as before and I didn't even need metformin this time around. But, in the interest of imitating the cycle when I got pregnant (and losing weight... and just being healthier in general), I might as well eat better.

Speaking of metformin, I was on that when I conceived, but I can't start that again if I don't need it. 

I did start Vitamin D last month, which I was on last time. 

I stopped taking progesterone altogether because I couldn't handle the headaches. And, although my doctor wasn't convinced the headaches were caused by the progesterone, I didn't have any this cycle. So I'm convinced. My progesterone has been extremely low in recent blood tests, on the supplement, so I might need it to get pregnant. If it came down to that, I'd deal with the headaches for sure, but right now it just doesn't seem like that's my miracle cure. Heck, if it was low even on the prometrium, then why deal with the headaches? Maybe I'll ask for a different kind of progesterone.

I also have had some cramping about a week after ovulation and a week before I start a new cycle. Could that be endo? In all my years with endometriosis, it never hurt then. It was always a day or two before I got my period, to possibly a day or two after.

Oh, and breastfeeding. I am not doing a ton of it at this point, probably 2-3 times a day (is that a lot by this age? I have no idea). But I see so many women conceive when breastfeeding that I wonder if that's not my reason. Although my prolactin was high before I conceived (the same hormone that's high when breastfeeding) and I took medication to lower it for years. Hmm.. maybe I should get that tested. Naturally high when not breastfeeding could mean extremely high when breastfeeding.. as in too high to conceive.

Dr. B suggested I consider no longer breastfeeding Luke if I want to conceive. He said he regretted his wife not stopping sooner because it took them a long time to conceive baby #2. But I hate the thought of stopping earlier than I had planned and then not ever getting pregnant again, and never breastfeeding again. If Luke's my last baby, I want to hang on just a little bit longer.

And that's about it. That's where I am at.

This cycle day one was harder to take than ones in the recent past. I should put that in context - I didn't cry, get depressed or even mention it to my husband. But it just made me anxious. It made me think it's never going to happen again. And I'm surprised at how upset that makes me. 

I guess when I got pregnant two years ago (really?) I thought I was cured. But now I'm thinking it was a fluke. Or, probably better put, a miracle. Or, maybe a Luke fluke? Oh, please God let me have another baby so he doesn't become known as Luke the Fluke :)

As I try to actively attempt to conceive, and inevitably worry about the future, I want to not let this interfere with the here and now. I don't want to spend my kids' childhoods worried about whether I'll ever have any more. I don't want to look back on this time and wish I had just focused on them, rather than on secondary infertility. So, I'm trying. But, unfortunately, it's kind of in my nature to not focus on the present. 

I am such a pessimist. All my talk about letting God be in control of growing my family is so quickly thrown out the window as soon as things start looking like they aren't going as I had planned. 

And then I remember that I know people who are dealing with MUCH greater problems. No, this is not a problem. 

It made me feel a little better today when I thought about possibly starting to save for a future adoption. That's a very, very long time off, though, because we haven't even come close to paying off our loans for our last one. And, once we do pay them off, we were hoping to start saving a little money to possibly get out from under our current home, some time in the distant future. But I'd stay in this house forever if it was between that and growing our family. 

I know God is in control. I just have a hard time letting Him be. What is wrong with me? Like I'm pretty sure I ended a post about this same topic a few months ago, I should know more than anyone that His plan is always better than ours. I'm offering this very mild discomfort up for those still waiting.

And I'll get to wake up to two little babies crying/laughing/yelling in their rooms across the hallway tomorrow morning and all will be right with the world.