Last week was a pretty awful week, with nothing at all worth posting. Hopefully we can just forget it all and move on with this week, especially since we're taking a previously unscheduled but entirely necessary week-long break. (My planned school year schedule would have us taking a week off later in October, but since it all works out in the end, I decided we could be - gulp - flexible.) Actually - and fortunately - I think I'm the only one who needs to forget anything and recover. "Mom's melting down and losing her sanity? Hey, at least we skipped spelling -again - and got to watch some extra TV!" No one seems to be traumatized, in short, and I'm glad for that, anyway.
Today, though, we had a truly good day. We woke up early and went to the SC State fairgrounds for the fair's rabbit show (the actual fair begins in a couple weeks). We went last a couple years ago, and the kids did well showing their rabbits, but there was hardly any competition. This year, however, the competition was much stiffer, and there were several quality rabbits - we weren't sure how we would fare this year. But our rabbits (the kids showed them) did wonderfully, taking several firsts. One of our rabbits, Patches, made an exceptional showing, catching the judges' eyes immediately, and sweeping all her categories to capture Best of Breed (she's a Holland Lop). At the end of the show she was in the Best of Show judging with all the other Best of Breeds, and there were some gorgeous rabbits in that competition. Our rabbitry has never taken a Best of Show, but we were pleasantly surprised to realize that Patches was a frontrunner. We held our breaths and waited as the judges deliberated, after they had stated that there were four very good rabbbits to choose from. And we danced and high-fived when the head judge, with glowing praise, announced that the Holland was the winner. Aimee got the official awards, but our whole family felt proud, because Patches is a third-generation product of our own line of rabbits.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
A Little - A Very Little - on Birth
I didn't think you would check the comments for my last post again, Hannah, so this is for you!
I think a real example of the "natural-birth extremism" mentioned in my previous post would be if I had told you I was being induced and you had promptly given me a completely unsolicited account of all the dangers of induction. I have seen that happen to other people, and I do think, though it may be simply my non-confrontational personality talking, that such an approach is a little strong at the very least. But as I think on it now, I'm guessing you were probably probing gently to see if I was making my own decision, rather than blindly following a doctor's "order," and I don't want you to feel you have to apologize for it! At the time, I thought the lines were more black and white, that there were two camps in the birthing community and that neither side could really understand the other. I think many people have this same mentality, and it fosters the mistaken notion that a woman who gives birth naturally is "superwoman" and not quite like most other women when it comes to birth. What I had hoped to highlight, in recounting the conversation, was that attitude on my part. I believed at that time, whether I would have said the exact words, was that natural birth was impossible for me. I believed I was in the other camp, the "normal" birth experience camp, and that since my approach was so different, my decisions and actions wouldn't make much sense to you, whom I knew to be in the other camp, even though I knew you to be entirely well-meaning. Well, I was partly right, in that we were coming from different approaches, but I believe I was wholeheartedly wrong in thinking that there are only two sides to the story. I know I was wrong, because later I experienced birth in an entirely different way, and the result was, I believe, a sense of understanding, empathy, and sisterhood combined with a passion for wanting other women on the cusp of motherhood to be empowered and not, quite frankly, robbed of something God gives only to them. So I try not to be abrasive or to sound remotely judgemental as I encourage other women to make informed decisions that are their own, but I know that anything I say may be taken as words coming from someone with a superhuman tolerance for pain to an earthbound woman, as I, unjustly, belived your position to be. I think that's unavoidable to some degree. But I don't think it would be right to say nothing at all - if we see someone in imminent possible danger, it might not do any good to throw a list of scary facts at her , but a gentle reminder to think before she acts on such an important occasion is probably well within reason. Had you told me more plainly what I might be walking into, it would have been more than the doctor ever said and I would have been better informed, but I don't know that I would have believed you...until 24 hours or so later. But your little nudge - "Is this what you want to do?" - was part of a seed that grew into my own birth awareness over the next few years. A good seed!
For the record. I am not superhuman in any way. I did have two natural births after my first highly medicated ones, and I will chronicle them in a few months, but I still have a pretty low tolerance for pain...and for any other kind of inconvenience or discomfort! :-)
I think a real example of the "natural-birth extremism" mentioned in my previous post would be if I had told you I was being induced and you had promptly given me a completely unsolicited account of all the dangers of induction. I have seen that happen to other people, and I do think, though it may be simply my non-confrontational personality talking, that such an approach is a little strong at the very least. But as I think on it now, I'm guessing you were probably probing gently to see if I was making my own decision, rather than blindly following a doctor's "order," and I don't want you to feel you have to apologize for it! At the time, I thought the lines were more black and white, that there were two camps in the birthing community and that neither side could really understand the other. I think many people have this same mentality, and it fosters the mistaken notion that a woman who gives birth naturally is "superwoman" and not quite like most other women when it comes to birth. What I had hoped to highlight, in recounting the conversation, was that attitude on my part. I believed at that time, whether I would have said the exact words, was that natural birth was impossible for me. I believed I was in the other camp, the "normal" birth experience camp, and that since my approach was so different, my decisions and actions wouldn't make much sense to you, whom I knew to be in the other camp, even though I knew you to be entirely well-meaning. Well, I was partly right, in that we were coming from different approaches, but I believe I was wholeheartedly wrong in thinking that there are only two sides to the story. I know I was wrong, because later I experienced birth in an entirely different way, and the result was, I believe, a sense of understanding, empathy, and sisterhood combined with a passion for wanting other women on the cusp of motherhood to be empowered and not, quite frankly, robbed of something God gives only to them. So I try not to be abrasive or to sound remotely judgemental as I encourage other women to make informed decisions that are their own, but I know that anything I say may be taken as words coming from someone with a superhuman tolerance for pain to an earthbound woman, as I, unjustly, belived your position to be. I think that's unavoidable to some degree. But I don't think it would be right to say nothing at all - if we see someone in imminent possible danger, it might not do any good to throw a list of scary facts at her , but a gentle reminder to think before she acts on such an important occasion is probably well within reason. Had you told me more plainly what I might be walking into, it would have been more than the doctor ever said and I would have been better informed, but I don't know that I would have believed you...until 24 hours or so later. But your little nudge - "Is this what you want to do?" - was part of a seed that grew into my own birth awareness over the next few years. A good seed!
For the record. I am not superhuman in any way. I did have two natural births after my first highly medicated ones, and I will chronicle them in a few months, but I still have a pretty low tolerance for pain...and for any other kind of inconvenience or discomfort! :-)
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Happy Birthday, Drew!
Actually, his 6th birthday was yesterday, but it was such a busy day I didn't have time to write anything. It was also such a highly anticipated event that I wondered if the actual day might be let-down, but I think it was a good day for the young man in question, and it ended on a postivitely GREAT note for him when just before bedtime Dave was finally able to pick up our gift and bring it home - two leopard geckos. Wow. My mom had asked about getting Drew a reptile or amphibian after she gave my nephew a Pacman frog, and we had been thinking about it as well, so we all decided to go in on something like it for this birthday, only I declined the Pacman frog, which grows to baseball size and eats mice. No, thanks! But Drew loves lizards, and particularly geckos, so when one of the employees of the nearby pet store (where we sell some of our bunnies from time to time) mentioned that she raised them and could give us a deal, we made arrangements with her. When Dave brought them home last night I was a little taken aback, not having realized just how large they are - I pictured something slightly different! - but of course they were a HUGE hit with the kids. Drew promptly named them Betsy and Aimee (a dubious distinction for his sister, I would think, but apparently it was a great honor and was taken as such!) and can now handle them with ease. Unfortunately, so can Ryan, who spent a great portion of his morning perched atop his dresser, picking up the lizards and giving them presents. I think Chase would do the same if he could (heaven forbid!) figure out how to climb up there. He calls them "alligers," which means alligators, and that's either his favorite animal or just his favorite word to say - at any rate, he's delighted with them as well!
Well, I always wanted boys and the kind of life they would bring, and I certainly got it! But I doubt if I really knew all it would entail when I gave birth to my first little boy six years ago. :-) I didn't have the easiest pregnancy with Drew - it was about halfway through that Ibegan .having severe pain that the doctors eventually discovered was from a severely dilated kidney. They didn't know why it was so dilated, so to be safe, my urologist insterted a stint. Later, another urologist said he only puts stints in pregnant women as a last resort, and I certainly wish I would have known that at the time! When I had the procedure done, at 28 weeks, it stimulated contractions that couldn't be stopped right away, and I had to stay overnight for observation. There was some worry about the future of my kidney at this point, but there was nothing more to be done until after the baby was born, so the immediate concerns were for my unborn son, as well as for two year-old Aimee, who, according my OB, needed to be weaned at that point. It was nice to have a doctor who was otherwise supportive of breastfeeding even through a pregnancy under normal conditions, and I felt I could trust her judgement. But I was also reluctant to wean Aimee abruptly, and so after the contractions stopped and I went home, I made the decision simply to cut back to two short nursing sessions a day, being careful of any uterine activity. It turned out to be a good compromise that worked for all of us, and Drew made it to full-term with no more major scares. But I was in a great deal of pain from the stint, which had to be carefully managed, and Drew promised to be a much larger baby than Aimee, two issues which prompted the doctor I saw at my last visit to schedule an induction. I remember talking to Hannah about it (we were in the same playgroup in Greenville at the time), and she asked if that was something I really wanted to do. I thought - a thousand pardons, Hannah! - that she was speaking from natural-birth extremism and just didn't understand. :-) Why WOULDN'T I agree to getting the baby out as soon as possible? The induction was scheduled for six days before my due date, and we arrived at 6:00am to begin the process. Just a few hours and hardly any dilation into my labor, I consented to an epidural, when I was hardly feeling any pain at all, and thereafter I was confined to bed, not altogether comfortably, for an agonizingly slow labor. Hours passed, and I was barely progressing. Drew, too, was suffering, as the pitocin was causing his heart rate to drop, so I was hooked up to all kinds of monitors. At one point they said we were an hour away from doing a c-section, but because they were so busy, they took longer than an hour to check me, and I had progressed sufficiently enough for them to leave me alone. Finally, over 12 hours later, I was complete, and after waiting for the doctor to finish with other deliveries, I began pushing. After some inefficient pushing, the doctor used a vacuum extractor, and finally, at nearly 8:00 pm, Drew was born, weighing 8 lbs. 3 oz (almost two pounds bigger than his sister!). He looked so tired and battered, and in the midst of my joy at seeing him, I felt terrible that we had done it that way. It was hard on me and harder on him, and he wasn't ready. It was something I struggled with even through the following weeks of recovery, and I knew why exactly induction wasn't - isn't - something to be done lightly. But I had my son - my handsome, intelligent, one-of-a-kind Drew. His name, Drew Trahaearn, means "wise" and "strong as iron," and both are certainly true of him. He can be a "bull in a china shop," often not realizing his own strength (or volume!), but he's one of the most tender-hearted and perceptive children I know. He's ALL boy, and he's growing up so fast!
Well, I always wanted boys and the kind of life they would bring, and I certainly got it! But I doubt if I really knew all it would entail when I gave birth to my first little boy six years ago. :-) I didn't have the easiest pregnancy with Drew - it was about halfway through that Ibegan .having severe pain that the doctors eventually discovered was from a severely dilated kidney. They didn't know why it was so dilated, so to be safe, my urologist insterted a stint. Later, another urologist said he only puts stints in pregnant women as a last resort, and I certainly wish I would have known that at the time! When I had the procedure done, at 28 weeks, it stimulated contractions that couldn't be stopped right away, and I had to stay overnight for observation. There was some worry about the future of my kidney at this point, but there was nothing more to be done until after the baby was born, so the immediate concerns were for my unborn son, as well as for two year-old Aimee, who, according my OB, needed to be weaned at that point. It was nice to have a doctor who was otherwise supportive of breastfeeding even through a pregnancy under normal conditions, and I felt I could trust her judgement. But I was also reluctant to wean Aimee abruptly, and so after the contractions stopped and I went home, I made the decision simply to cut back to two short nursing sessions a day, being careful of any uterine activity. It turned out to be a good compromise that worked for all of us, and Drew made it to full-term with no more major scares. But I was in a great deal of pain from the stint, which had to be carefully managed, and Drew promised to be a much larger baby than Aimee, two issues which prompted the doctor I saw at my last visit to schedule an induction. I remember talking to Hannah about it (we were in the same playgroup in Greenville at the time), and she asked if that was something I really wanted to do. I thought - a thousand pardons, Hannah! - that she was speaking from natural-birth extremism and just didn't understand. :-) Why WOULDN'T I agree to getting the baby out as soon as possible? The induction was scheduled for six days before my due date, and we arrived at 6:00am to begin the process. Just a few hours and hardly any dilation into my labor, I consented to an epidural, when I was hardly feeling any pain at all, and thereafter I was confined to bed, not altogether comfortably, for an agonizingly slow labor. Hours passed, and I was barely progressing. Drew, too, was suffering, as the pitocin was causing his heart rate to drop, so I was hooked up to all kinds of monitors. At one point they said we were an hour away from doing a c-section, but because they were so busy, they took longer than an hour to check me, and I had progressed sufficiently enough for them to leave me alone. Finally, over 12 hours later, I was complete, and after waiting for the doctor to finish with other deliveries, I began pushing. After some inefficient pushing, the doctor used a vacuum extractor, and finally, at nearly 8:00 pm, Drew was born, weighing 8 lbs. 3 oz (almost two pounds bigger than his sister!). He looked so tired and battered, and in the midst of my joy at seeing him, I felt terrible that we had done it that way. It was hard on me and harder on him, and he wasn't ready. It was something I struggled with even through the following weeks of recovery, and I knew why exactly induction wasn't - isn't - something to be done lightly. But I had my son - my handsome, intelligent, one-of-a-kind Drew. His name, Drew Trahaearn, means "wise" and "strong as iron," and both are certainly true of him. He can be a "bull in a china shop," often not realizing his own strength (or volume!), but he's one of the most tender-hearted and perceptive children I know. He's ALL boy, and he's growing up so fast!
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Mr. Hyde
Several months ago, I began elminating artificial dyes out of Drew's diet, and after a trial of a few weeks, I felt there was indeed enough improvement in his behavior to suggest he probably had a sensitivity. Dave was a little skeptical, but one night Drew had a complete meltdown that looked like a toddler tantrum, something he hadn't done in quite some time, and Dave asked what in the world he had done that day. I realized that it had been the first time in weeks that I had allowed him to have something with red dye in it, and after that Dave began wonder if there might actually be a correlation. A couple more incidents with the suspect color were enough to serve as proof for him, so that now he's takes as firm stance on Drew's diet as well (rather than just going along with another one of my weird notions!).
So closer to the present, when Drew was hurt, I went to the store the next day and carefully searched through the children's pain medicine until I found something without artificial color - or at least, nothing red and as little of anything else as possible. Then I went to the pharmacy and picked up his antibiotic and unfortunately, didn't think to look at it until I was almost home. It was, of course, very definitely pink. I was frustrated at myself, but since I had paid for it and wanted to get him on it soon, not to mention the fact that someone had come to babysit the kids so I could go to the store and I didn't know when I could get that again, I decided just to stick with it. I hoped that it would be a small enough amount that it wouldn't bother him very much. WRONG!!! By the second day he was demonstrating the classic signs of extreme irritability, and last night was particularly awful. It's sometimes difficult to describe his reaction, but last night I was thinking of Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde - Drew reacting to artificial color is like him turning into Mr. Hyde. It's more than just a moment of disobedience or even a period of being tired; it's like the dark side of Drew unleashed.
He has seven more days of the antibiotic, and I don't know if we can last that long! I'll try, I suppose to call his doctor and see if we can switch to something else; if we can't, it will certainly be an interesting week!
So closer to the present, when Drew was hurt, I went to the store the next day and carefully searched through the children's pain medicine until I found something without artificial color - or at least, nothing red and as little of anything else as possible. Then I went to the pharmacy and picked up his antibiotic and unfortunately, didn't think to look at it until I was almost home. It was, of course, very definitely pink. I was frustrated at myself, but since I had paid for it and wanted to get him on it soon, not to mention the fact that someone had come to babysit the kids so I could go to the store and I didn't know when I could get that again, I decided just to stick with it. I hoped that it would be a small enough amount that it wouldn't bother him very much. WRONG!!! By the second day he was demonstrating the classic signs of extreme irritability, and last night was particularly awful. It's sometimes difficult to describe his reaction, but last night I was thinking of Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde - Drew reacting to artificial color is like him turning into Mr. Hyde. It's more than just a moment of disobedience or even a period of being tired; it's like the dark side of Drew unleashed.
He has seven more days of the antibiotic, and I don't know if we can last that long! I'll try, I suppose to call his doctor and see if we can switch to something else; if we can't, it will certainly be an interesting week!
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Siblings
Sometimes I have to remind myself that having four children so close together will eventually be a great thing. :-) And sometimes they remind me themselves. Here they are playing vet together with some of our rabbits.
Friday, September 5, 2008
For Clarity
I was, perhaps not very clear in my post last night - I was really tired! (Of course, often I'm not very clear, anyway, but this time I did have a good excuse!) We have been to the ER numerous times, but mostly for Drew's respiratory problems when he was little, and then for Ryan's croup episodes as a baby. It was a long time, however, before we needed to go for an injury, and in the time period before we had a major injury, I did dread the time when that would finally happen. I knew it would happen, and happen often thereafter, but that knowledge didn't - and still doesn't - keep me from panicking a little at the sight of blood or other signs of moderate injury. We've had those kinds of injuries four times now, and I know more are coming, but I wish they wouldn't! And every once in awhile I think about the fact that we haven't had anything broken yet. We can't provide an environment safe enough to ensure that won't ever happen, or that no one will every need sutures again, so in thise house of boys I'm sure we'll hear that kind of "we're-headed-to-the-ER" kind of scream again. I can't brace myself for it or cushion the feeling of maternal terror that surges through me when I hear those kinds of cries, and that's something about mothering I could do without!
As for Drew, he's growing a little restless, but is still sore (in both his leg and his arm, now, the recipient of a tetanus shot late yesterday), and I think that helps him consent to resting for now.
As for Drew, he's growing a little restless, but is still sore (in both his leg and his arm, now, the recipient of a tetanus shot late yesterday), and I think that helps him consent to resting for now.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
What I DON'T Like About Mothering
It happens. I KNOW it's going to happen - it's supposed to, especially in a house with three boys. All the same, when I hear a bloodcurdling scream that indicates we'll be going to the ER soon, I never can quite take it in stride, and I don't think I'll ever get used to it, even though I know it's going to come again and again. The kids will be the better for it, of course, and the boys will wear their scars like badges of honor, as all boys do, but oh, that surge of fear that takes seconds off my life!
Okay, okay, a little dramatic! Still, I do hate it when the kids are hurt, as Drew was yesterday afternoon. Climbing up onto the trampoline, he slipped a little and when came down he was screaming in terror. It sounded much more like panic than actual pain (he has a pretty high pain tolerance but is terrified of blood), so I thought he had just scratched himself. When I went to him and saw it, however, the wound on his leg looked...well, just like that - a wound, rather than just a scratch or cut. Surveying the scene, I saw he must have caught it on a screw on the outside frame of the trampoline - I couldn't believe we hadn't noticed how dangerous it was before. At any rate, I brought him inside and looked at his leg more closely. It wasn't bleeding much, and I thought perhaps the skin had just been badly torn and that I had overestimated the seriousness of the injury. Dave, upon arriving home, thought the same thing, but we both knew we needed to take him in to have it properly cleaned and dressed. Naturally, it was just after the pediatrician's office had closed, so Dave took him to the urgent care center nearby, where they waited for waited for several hours altogether, finally emerging with seven stitches in Drew's left leg ( just above the knee) and strict instructions about how to let the wound heal (I'll omit the gory details, but it was in fact as serious an injury as it had looked at first glance). So today began the first of 3-5 days of trying to keep him from running, climbing, or jumping - a herculean task! Today I wasn't too creative, letting him simply watch movies to his heart's content, but tomorrow as the soreness subsides, I'm sure we'll have to come up with other ways to keep him busy.
And I' ll try not to think about the next time!
Okay, okay, a little dramatic! Still, I do hate it when the kids are hurt, as Drew was yesterday afternoon. Climbing up onto the trampoline, he slipped a little and when came down he was screaming in terror. It sounded much more like panic than actual pain (he has a pretty high pain tolerance but is terrified of blood), so I thought he had just scratched himself. When I went to him and saw it, however, the wound on his leg looked...well, just like that - a wound, rather than just a scratch or cut. Surveying the scene, I saw he must have caught it on a screw on the outside frame of the trampoline - I couldn't believe we hadn't noticed how dangerous it was before. At any rate, I brought him inside and looked at his leg more closely. It wasn't bleeding much, and I thought perhaps the skin had just been badly torn and that I had overestimated the seriousness of the injury. Dave, upon arriving home, thought the same thing, but we both knew we needed to take him in to have it properly cleaned and dressed. Naturally, it was just after the pediatrician's office had closed, so Dave took him to the urgent care center nearby, where they waited for waited for several hours altogether, finally emerging with seven stitches in Drew's left leg ( just above the knee) and strict instructions about how to let the wound heal (I'll omit the gory details, but it was in fact as serious an injury as it had looked at first glance). So today began the first of 3-5 days of trying to keep him from running, climbing, or jumping - a herculean task! Today I wasn't too creative, letting him simply watch movies to his heart's content, but tomorrow as the soreness subsides, I'm sure we'll have to come up with other ways to keep him busy.
And I' ll try not to think about the next time!
Monday, September 1, 2008
A Few More Pictures...
Some more pictures from our vacation! The other girls are two of my sisters (and we tend to get goofy when we're around each other for too long!). The last picture is a gorgeous one of Chase, and I've turned it in other albums, but it shows up sideways here.
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