VBAC Link

I was just reading my Bradley teacher's new blog. She's recently posted about VBACs and the things that surround them (previous c-sections, among other things!) I thought she did a very good job with this topic. It reminds me of the fire-hydrant of information we got in her classes. (As in: I could easily learn a ton of "new" stuff by taking the exact class I took 4 years ago; there was that much information.)

I love her blog title: Banned from Baby Showers. Though I haven't banned myself from baby showers yet, I can totally relate because I feel so strongly about educating yourself before you do the (likely) hardest work you will ever do in your life. Far too may people waltz in completely unprepared and without an inkling as to what risks they and their babies will face because they are uneducated on this topic. (They sometimes label themselves "happily ignorant," and in one sense, I hope they remain so, because the way you get an education-in-a-hurry about just how risky the things are that you're consenting to have done to you can also be the way you become not-so-happy when those risks become reality.) Even though the post is about VBACs, it touches on some more-common topics within childbirth, such as induction, epidurals and the like.

If you read it and like or don't like it, let's discuss!

Warning: I Am About to Get E-pinionated

Some of you will be relieved to know I'm posting here now; most especially those who have my blog name listed on your blog. Sorry, though; my new blog's name will not be any less embarrassing.

I will continue to post to this blog, but the content will return to pregnancy, labor and birth, with an emphasis on unmedicated prodromal labor.

For a few months now, I've been hemming and hawing about whether or not to create a blog for my personal/family life. One reason I resisted was because I find that if someone has more than one blog, I will almost exclusively read only one of them. But I have come to see this as the exact reason I SHOULD make this change. As more people (friends and strangers) find my blog, I have realized that this is the time to dichotomize my posts. It is important to me for my posts to be pertinent to my readers. I don't want to alienate my family or friends by passionate opinions about things for which they have no use or couldn't care less. Nor do I want to disappoint ones who find my blog by searching for something they really want to know about, only to have to sift through a boring mishmash on my personal life.

I'm aware that there are people who would just like to know how I/we are doing, and what I/we are up to. There are also people whose goal in reading is not to see that Ruby or Claire said something funny or Haley reached a new milestone.

My hope is to post regularly to both blogs, and consequently have a few readers at each. But it really isn't that big of a deal either way, since most of my blogging so far has been to an audience that wasn't there. (It started as therapeutic journaling, which has been stumbled upon by a few readers--somewhat accidentally, as I have yet to officially announce that I am regularly blogging).

Please stay or go as you wish!

Hallelujah, It Isn't Thrush! (and other 4-month updates)

Haley had her 4 month check-up today. It has been TWO MONTHS since the diagnosis of thrush (which she had for a week or two before we went in for her 2-mo. ck.) and, though the Gentian Violet cleared her up, it did not seem to do a thing for me. Over 3 weeks now since that treatment, I was certain I would have given it back to her. Dr. Tom looked intently in her mouth today and found NO SIGNS of thrush! Hurray!

This not only means that I've not re-transferred it to her, but that I don't have it, either! Words cannot describe how elated I am at this news! There was a good month in there where I wondered how my immune system could be THAT shot, that despite help (2 different prescriptions, as well as the G.V.) and the numerous things I was doing to combat it, I simply could not shake this thrush. Could it be that completing 3 pregnancies in four years has left my body utterly defenseless? I really was beginning to wonder. Upon getting this fabulous news, I went out and got a Nice. Big. Real. Coke. I've been craving this for weeks!

One may wonder, what--if it isn't thrush--is it? My Doc last week said she wondered if it could be eczema, and Dr. Tom's findings today put the last piece in the puzzle. My guess is that the G.V. treatment cured one thing and then started or aggravated another. Eczema isn't a picnic either, but I've had to deal with it in patches on my skin before, and one of my girls has it pretty bad. The management is pretty much "moisturize, moisturize, moisturize." This is a breeze compared to treating thrush. There is just no comparison. When it was thrush, I was seriously consumed by it (I'm not kidding--if you don't believe me, do a search on thrush and see how many dozen things you can find that you can do to get rid of it. And then there I was, not being cured--or even helped in the least bit--by any of it, grasping at straws and another dozen cures. It literally determined what I did or did not do for at least the last month.) I feel so free right now.

So I was thinking about the last few weeks of jumping through hoops and doing all I knew to do, all the while knowing I was failing in this treatment or that one, so maybe I just wasn't doing everything right, and that's why I wasn't getting better. The picture that I think of is that I do this on a daily basis spiritually, too. It reminds me of how I can feel when I get focused on living in my own strength. There is nothing but condemnation to face when I try, try, try--all the while knowing I am dismally failing, and seeing that I will NEVER measure up. I mean, this last month, I would have had to pretty much do nothing but treat thrush if I were to do everything right. I knew I wasn't doing the very best that I could, and it was so discouraging to think, "If I just did everything and did it right, it would be gone in no time." And yet it wasn't thrush, and that's why all I did wasn't working! I don't want to make a weird spiritual analogy, but it did remind me of how a sinner's eyes are opened to the gospel and it is finally clear why all the "doing good" doesn't alleviate the guilt of sin, or how a Christian can be bogged down with performance and not live in grace. (Yes, I sin. No, God is not surprised. Neither should I be. Help me, Lord!)

Okay, sorry about that strange rabbit trail. I am so elated though! Can you tell?

The update on four month old Haley is: she weighs in at 14 lb, 4 oz and is 25 inches long, and she has 2 teeth (they came in a few weeks ago: no wonder she's been biting me since day one!) Her teething and subsequent drool makes her too smelly--even soon after a bath! According to Casey, she drools like a banshee. (Until I met Casey and Thomas, I never knew banshees did so many things besides wailing. Apparently, they drive, sweat, sneeze, and drool, among other things!)

Haley loves tummy time and is scooting around (very strangely--doesn't use her hands or knees, just lifts her arms and pushes with her toes, so it takes FOREVER for her to get to her desired destination). By the looks of it, I'd say she'll be crawling in another month or two, but I know better than to say that. She will be sure not crawl for another 6 months!

I would do a video, except it would be extremely long and boring. The one constant in these pics is the pink dress on the right side. She doesn't move fast or far, but she's determined!

Six minutes later.

Fifteen minutes later than that.

A Few Ups and Downs of Parenting

A funny tidbit:
Last month, I was battling a small cold. After a sneezing attack, Ruby advised me to take a cough drop: “Mom, you can get that thing what Daddy does to make your throat smell better.”

My children aren’t synchronized on their nap schedules: a thing I find slightly vexing. Some days, I may have ½ hour where they are all asleep—uh—in bed. (Ruby doesn’t take a nap most of the time. She has never been a fan of sleep and has boycotted naptime most days for over a year now.)

Even so, I find that I am a much better mama if I have had a break. Therefore, Ruby is not required to sleep, just be quiet in her bed. So, in this break (Haley fussing in the bassinet—hope she’ll succumb to sleep soon, R & C nearly to the end of supposed “naptime”) I’ll quickly post.

This morning, Ruby was playing with her doll. She kept getting it in and out of the crib, rocking on her rocking chair and talking to it about how it needed to go to sleep. I inquired as to what she was doing. She very calmly replied, “I have a baby and she’s 20 months old and she drives me nuts.”

When I watch my girls play “Mommy,” I am often amazed that they are so patient and kind to their dolls, and I wonder where they get that. Their babies are almost always naughty (what fun is it when your baby isn’t?), and I’ve overheard Claire sweetly say, “If you get out of your crib again, you will lose a privilege.”

It really convicts me to see them play with their dolls and set expectations, boundaries and consequences with their “children,” without getting riled up or short of temper. I’m sure I don’t look like that most of the time. Sometimes I watch them mimic me—cringing, one eye closed—afraid of what I look or sound like to them throughout the day. And when they do this with their dolls, I am almost certain that they don’t get it from watching me.

Yes, this parenting role has been challenging, to say the least. Like my dear friend E. and I were discussing a few weeks ago, sanctification is not an elective. I think one of the verses that I find most comforting at this time of extreme testing is Philippians 1:6 “being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” God saves to sanctify—and eventually perfect—His children. Even though some days I see so much sin in my life that upon reflecting on the day I would almost swear I am more sinful than I was 10...5…2 years ago, I can know from God’s Word that if I am His child, the truth is that He is exposing more of my sin and working out His promise to finish what He started. From God’s perspective, I’m not getting worse; I’ve always been this sinful, and am more sinful than I can imagine—I’m glad I don’t know all He knows. I’m so grateful He doesn’t expose all my sin at once!

My friend Josanna was able to stay with us last night, on her way from CA to TX. My girls have such fun with her. I remember when I used to be fun with children, too.

Okay. Naptime’s over. Let the good times begin

You Might be a Mom to Three Short People If. . .

You are grateful for six hours of uninterrupted sleep.

You finish a phone conversation, take off your glasses, then realize you meant to hang up the phone.

There are days that you consider yourself successful if, at the end of the day, everyone is still alive and you got a shower to boot.

Your showers are accompanied by at least one other person, unless you take one at 6 a.m., 3 p.m. or 9 p.m.

Grocery shopping by yourself refreshes and renews you.

Despite your couch looking like this most of the week:

or at best, this:


your husband is just grateful to have something clean to wear to work.

A date with your husband consists of putting the children to bed and zoning out to a movie in the next room.

When someone at the store snidely jokes that you need to figure out "what causes that," you think to yourself: "I'm not sure I can remember."

You marvel at the thought that some people actually need to use birth control at this stage to keep from getting pregnant again.

You congratulate your children for doing things like this:




When pulling into a parking lot, your first objective is no longer to find the space closest to the store, but the cart corral.

A suggestion from your husband that you go to a coffee shop and blog for an hour makes you giddy with excitement.

You can't remember the last time you had both a warm meal AND two free hands.

Upon your infant's cry of hunger, two non-lactating short people offer--and attempt--to breastfeed her.

You let them.

You consider it "a break" to go anywhere with only one or two of your children.

You have found yourself in a public bathroom stall with all three children, holding 2 of them.

Throughout the day, you periodically burst into melodramatic and sarcastic renditions of theme songs from Little Einstein or Super Readers.

You wonder if your brain cells will ever regenerate enough for you to have an intellegent conversation.

You don't remember if or when you've ever had one.

You can tell what time of day it is, based on the cleanliness of your shirt

At bedtime, you can easily identify a half-dozen stains and/or bodily fluids on said shirt.

Almost none of said bodily fluids belong to you.

You are grateful for this.

You lose your train of thought mid-sentence.

It takes a few minutes for either you or your husband to notice. . .

and . . .

It really isn't worth the effort to figure out what you were saying .

Ruby's First Lesson

Today was Ruby's first Tap/Ballet class. And before you start thinking what a terrible thing it was for Ruby to be the only one in regular clothes (and the only one without ballet shoes), please let me explain that it was expressly suggestd by Ms. Deidre, the teacher. She said that with this young age, mothers often get over-excited and buy all the bells and whistles, only to find that their children aren't ready to take lessons. Her advice was to wait until the first class to decide whether we should even sign up for lessons and THEN get the necessary items. The awkward thing about it was that I was the only mother who actually did what she suggested. (I didn't want to literally throw away almost a hundred dollars!)
There's a bonus to Ruby wearing regular clothes: it's easy to tell which one is her!

I am not die-hard into dance for Ruby. But I do think some sort of class will be good for her in many ways (like learning the importance of listening and following instructions from someone other than Mommy or Daddy, and that no matter what others are doing, she must do what she knows is right). I believe this will also provide the opportunity to learn that Mommy does not have jurisdiction over all children, and will not be able to fix certain problems, and that other children may be allowed to do things that she may not do. This is a fundamental lesson for her whole life, I believe. Therefore, it is not "simply" a dance class to me. It is a chance to learn and practice several different things besides dance techniques.

In the tap video, you'll notice Ruby holds on for dear life to the barre. Can you guess she's slipped a few times on the tile at home? (By the way, these are very short videos, mostly for the viewing pleasure of Ruby's 'Lita, who sent her a garage-sale find of tap shoes and a Shirley Temple movie--ingenious!)

Watching Ruby, I think about how I struggle to follow an aerobic exercise video, and hope that she will do better than I in the coordination department. She reminded me so much of myself when she had to stop doing one thing before doing another, and couldn't quite manage to both "fan" and turn at the same time!

And by the way, she didn't seem embarrassed to not be dressed like the others. Thankfully, she's young enough to not notice it too much (and the other girls only noticed for a split second).

So, after class today (after getting an affirmative that she's ready) I asked Ruby if she'd like to take the class. She said "Yes, I'm happy. No, Mommy, I LOVE IT!"

All We Need is Smell-A-Vision

Talk to any New Mexican, and they'll agree: there really isn't any smell so very "New Mexico" like the smell of roasting chile (perhaps the pungent nasty smell of tar for flat roofing says NM too, but it's not something to be proud of). Thanks to Mrs. D., I was able to put up a few meals' worth of chile yesterday. Mrs. D. has been farming all her life, and has taught me that roasting your own is better than having it barrel-roasted. That method burns the skin (and much of the flesh, if the operator isn't experienced) and even though the smokey smell is still good, it doesn't compare to the soft fragrance of a batch roasted just enough to evenly blister and brown the skin (making it peel nicely).

Last year, I made the mistake of 1) buying chile on opening day of chile season, 2) buying chile from Wal-Mart and 3) having it barrel-roasted. Anyone who knows his or her stuff about chile will tell you NOT to do the first two. The flavor isn't there, the heat isn't there, and probably half of the chiles were so small and meatless that they weren't even worth peeling. My sister (visiting for the weekend) and I were putting up at least 7 bushels, and wanted to cut costs where we could. I really should know better than this. How many times have I decided to go with the cheap knock-off or low-cost item and regretted it? You really do get what you pay for. What does it matter if we saved a third of the cost, when we haven't really eaten much of it because it's so BLAH? We still have at least half of last year's chile. Normally by this time, we've been out of chile for awhile.

This year, I will make a better choice. Living in a farming community now, I am only a few miles away from beautifully big, meaty, broad-shouldered chiles like the ones pictured. Perhaps next year, I will grow my own, and thus be able to do a small batch like this a couple times a week. (With a newborn this summer, I opted not to do much gardening. Tomatoes are it.)

It took about an hour (not including cooling time) to put up this much chile. The time commitment is pretty sizable when doing a regular-size (i.e. much bigger) batch. Not really baby-friendly, either. I don't want to be nursing right in the middle of the peeling phase. It can be PURRR-TY dangerous for baby and mama.

In other news, Casey had his Friday off this weekend, and we visited Gram at her new apartment. Case took the big girls for a quick swim while we were there.

Claire's the water baby of the bunch. Ruby gets cold quickly, and spent most of the time in her towel on the concrete.

Just one more thing: Haley's cousin Alan must have taught her more than just rolling over while he was here. I didn't have a thumb-sucker until last week.