Some Thoughts on Positive Parenting

I have always considered myself a relatively well-researched parent. I’ve read books across the spectrum here and there and follow blogs that seem to dispense some sound advice. I put things I learn into practice when they seem logical and applicable. I’m not perfect and I always (mostly) try to offer my kids the same grace I offer myself when I mess up. I am probably the more lenient parent in our household which for some reason I always hate admitting out loud.

Do people typically associate lenient parents with spoiled kids? I think I might and that’s why I don’t like admitting to being that way. But really what is leniency? Google defines it as “the fact or quality of being more merciful or tolerant than expected” How does that definition settle with you when applied to parenting or discipline?

I’ve recently stumbled on book after book about parenting that is not so condemning of leniency. This is something that has fascinated me so much lately that I have read every book about it I can get my hands on. (Maybe its the thought of going through toddler hood for a third time?) The message in these pages reasonated deep with me and confirmed that my "leniency" in parenting would not produce spoiled kids. (which really I'm learning is more accurately described as understanding and empathetic, on a good day :). It is something I’ve always been desperate to put into practice as long as I can remember but couldn’t depart from the mainstream ideas long enough to try consistently. 

My oldest baby on her new ride

The Newbies Guide to Positive Parenting by Rebecca Eanes explains the concept of what I've been learning like this:

[It] isn’t a method, a set of rules, or a style. Positive parenting is a philosophy, a way of relating to children and to ourselves.  Positive parenting – sometimes referred to as positive discipline, gentle guidance, or love based parenting - is guidance offered in a positive way, keeping in mind the dignity of the parent and child and preserving the parent child relationship.”

She goes on to say that positive parenting is about believing in our children’s innocence, and that their behavior (especially negative behavior) is actually a complex code for what they wished they could communicate to you the adult. It is about being “firm and kind, consistent and empathetic, and viewing disagreements between parents and children as opportunities to develop problem-solving skills and learn how to navigate relationships.”

I don’t know any parent that would shun more positivity in their home. When I read this description I think of how I have always tried to be this way while but still holding on to “winning” the battle, engaging in power struggles or punitive treatment.  In other words, I didn’t really know how to achieve this parental philosophy with the tools I had thus far placed in my parenting arsenal. Most of the time I would feel the culture’s whispering in my ear that I was a push over. So I would throw in some time outs and lectures and take things away and escalate the punishment to no avail. Most of the time this would leave me feeling disconnected from my child even if I did eventually gain their cooperation. I often wondered whether there was a better way or did raising kids just have to feel so intense and distressing on a daily basis?

Very simply, Eanes says that the two most valuable tools a parent can have are:

1) The example we set

2 ) The connection we have with our children

Well yeah.

This seems like total common sense but we’ve been conditioned to use methods that are more control based only to be surprised that there is no genuine or lasting change in the child’s behavior or thinking.  Sure they may learn to avoid punishment or confrontation by trying to please you and your requests but they learn quickly that if they nod along and feign just enough respect, “yes, mom” “yes, dad,” soon they can be on their way. This produces a child that is good at acting good but lacking in character (you know that thing that guides you when no one is watching?) Everyone wants their child to have character, sure, but how do produce that from the ground up? Is it something that can be forced or manipulated into being?

Character is made up of daily choices that a child learns to make by watching those around them and by feeling safe enough to mess up and connected enough to learn from their mistakes. We know the word discipline means to teach but yet our discipline is often no questions asked, my way or the highway that doesn’t offer any opportunities to learn. It may teach them to conform at best, a respect originating in fear instead of love. We want to control our child, often forgetting that they are their own separate person with a different personality and priorities. In my own parenting journey, I usually reach for these controlling tactics because of desperation. What I really want is peace. A peaceful home that exudes the grace and love of God. I want kids that can go out into the world and know how to give that love because it was the norm at home.  

It is way too easy to associate how well a child can listen and obey to how effective our parenting is. Especially in public, or among friends, or online; sometimes the temptation to compare is just too enticing. Through a lot of reading and praying and contemplating my own parenting style I have concluded that instant obedience is not always the best measuring stick for our effectiveness as parents. There’s something I want more than obedient little robots that ask “how high?” when I say “jump.” Something I want more than for them to understand that I am the boss and they are not.

I want their heart.

I want them to want to obey.

I want it to be their choice.

If you are a parent reading this thinking this sounds like a fantasy world, I understand where you are coming from. I was skeptical at first myself. It has taken me a lot of reading and processing and long days with my children to make the shift. Being this type of parent does not guarantee easy child rearing (it often takes more effort, self control and patience). Being this type of parent really doesn't even guarantee "good" children. But what it does produce is a healthier parent child relationship and from that we have foundation of trust and security that our discipline is built on. It is connection first then correction. It would take more than one post to explain it the way I'd like so I've opted to point to some experts (see the bottom of the page) for any one that is interested in learning more about how to actually apply this type of parenting in day to day life.

I will say this journey started for me a few years ago and really it had nothing to do with parenting (or so I thought) at the time. I was discovering how to pay attention to my own needs and how that affected my interaction with my kids. I was learning to listen and be gentle with myself and therefore allowing more mindfulness and gratitude throughout my day. I was learning the practice of rest and redefining productivity. Then I gradually realized that my children already lived this way and I could learn a lot from slowing down and listening to them. I could prevent so many problems by just being present with them instead of rushing them along through life. Rushing them to grow up, expecting them to know how to do things that many adults haven't even mastered (patience, self control, communication, independence, on and on I could go).

Dr. Gordon Nuefeld author of ‘Hold on to Your Kids’ says: “Children must never work for our love; they must rest in it. We have gone to a practice of parenting and teaching that makes them work for the contact and closeness – that puts them in charge of the relationship. We make them work at keeping us close. We might get compliance, but we get a deeply restless child, and we are giving rise to a whole generation of children who are restless to the core. Our yearning as parents should be to give them rest.”

Sound familiar?

I love this by Sarah Bessey, found in her memoir on motherhood:

“I characterize [parenting] the same way I characterize the Christ centered life: it’s a life that you relax into this – this mothering, this following of Jesus – is a relationship that we relax into. We cease the striving. We stop the trying. We stop the trying to better, smarter, nicer, more holy and more loving. Instead when we surrender, we relax into the arms of Jesus, we find that freedom, of living lightly. In our weakness he is able to become stronger and lead.”  

To me this sums up a lot about my life right now, as a parent, as a follower of Jesus and as a human who just wants a peaceful life in connection with those around her.

Some great books on parenting:

The Gentle Parent: Positive Practical Effective Discipline
Whispers Through Time
Two Thousand Kisses a Day 
all written by L.R. Knost
(these have workbooks that go along with them for cheap on amazon kindle)

Spirit Led Parenting: from fear to freedom in baby's first year  
Megan Tietz & Laura Oyer

Positive Parenting in Action
Laura Ling & Rebecca Eanes

Peaceful Parent, Happy Kids
Dr. Laura Markham

Some favorite websites:

ahaparenting.com

lemonlimeadventures.com

teach-through-love.com

Bethebestparentyoucanbe.com is hosting an online event with endless resources from parenting experts and educators; highly recommended!

Resources mentioned in this post:

The Newbies Guide to Positive Parenting 
Rebecca Eanes

My Practices of Mothering
Sarah Bessey
 

The Fourth Trimester

I had so many words. So many things to say. I've been storing them all up in my foggy new baby brain. Naturally now that it's time to put them down, I can only remember a few. I suppose that's the way it is with precious times and sweet memories and even our fears and things we dread. Soon they are over and time moves slow and fast at once, breaking us and building us.


I just keep thinking about the baby heart monitor strapped to my belly in the hospital. I was only wearing one for a short time this visit,  but weeks ago I stayed three days listening to the constant sound of Joel's heart. This time if I listened closely I could hear the monitor in the patients room next to mine. Tiny thumps repeating through the wall. It made me smile, made me feel so overly joyous.

He's here now. Now I can feel that heart outside my body, as he sleeps on my own chest. I count the beats. Steady. Determined. They match my own.
I imagined the mother next door, the new life waiting to reveal itself. And I am still awestruck by birth and creation and that we play a part. It all stands for something so much bigger than us, deeper than I can put into words.

 
Maybe I shouldn't write during the postpartum period. Maybe emotions will cloud my view. Despite the emotional roller coaster I had to ride to get here, this has been my easiest labor and birth. Even with all the fear pressing in, that he could have complications, he might need to stay in NICU and we would have to leave him. I just hoped so much and all the prayers from those around us carried me. And now he is here and he is ok. I feel like I cheated the system, like it's too good to be true. Life can be surprising like that and all my questions, all the "why's" and wondering to God in my quietest prayers still linger. Yet somehow I sense His fingerprints, His shadow,  are all over this.

 
My neck hurts from looking down at him while he eats. This is all the past weeks have been. Eating, sleeping, resting, nursing our bodies and just looking at each other. It feels like reacquainting yourself with an old friend that you knew inside and out.


The brevity and frailness of it all is so much more palpable this time around. I know I will only have him a short time. This baby business flies by fast as does childhood with equal speed. Soon he will be off to school, off to play his favorite sport, off to prom and college. He will face adversity, taste success and defeat and discover himself more than once. He will face sickness and sadness.  And I will be crushed that I don't have any control over the things life brings him but only remember holding his tiny fragile body, and the way he smelled, and how his fingers wrapped around mine and held tight.

I can hear cars driving by and people talking on the street as I sit and hold Joel on my bed. For them this is just another day, nothing special or out of the norm. For me I'm wondering how things will ever be normal again. But they will. I'm sure of it. I've been in the baby bubble before. The brief period for a mother where the world stops and it's only about this little life. Some call it the 4th trimester, but I'm wondering how long it really lasts. Maybe it's indefinite.

Part of me wants desperately to snap my fingers and jump right back into gear. Getting things done around the house, wearing actual clothes, handling spats between the kids, and cooking a meal or two. But I'm not quite ready, my energy is not quite there. So I'll call a friend or grandparent to entertain the rest of my babies and I'll lay down on the couch in the middle of my mess, holding Joel and we will just rest and wait. Wait until we catch up to the world. I'm in no hurry.
 

Thanks to any one reading this, for love and support, for prayers and encouragement.
With Love,
Jenna

Escaping Survival Mode

Last week was week 32! I was so uncertain in the beginning but the last six weeks have passed (slowly) I am growing more and more confident we will have a full term baby. Life is full of surprises, I am ready for whatever, with my hospital bag packed and a few necessities checked off that pesky list. If Joel comes now, the chances of complications are much, much lower than they were six weeks ago. I still want to make it full term so I will still take it easy but just being this much closer makes my heart happy.            

Having said that, the week before last was by far the hardest week of the whole bed rest experience. So much to the point that I didn't even realize I was almost in the clear. Any parent with young ones can testify to the havoc an entire week of snow days and going absolutely nowhere can wreak on your mental health. I saw many a desperate cry on my facebook feed.  In the beginning of the week I was honestly thinking I would enjoy the company. And I did. At first. I even thought I would be writing a post on togetherness and family and the joys of being forced to live in such close proximity for a week. By the end of the week, those thoughts had all but vanished. It was not pretty.  Suffice it to say, that everyone lived and we all just needed a break from each other and some time out of the house. 

Reflecting on that week reminded me of when I first moved here and was feeling isolated and down, stuck in the house not having many friends in a new place. That was only 2 short years ago. Only this time, I was so glad that I have a friend that I can call when I'm desperate. One who comes over and just talks for an hour when I'm on the verge of cracking. Thankfully by the weekend the weather permitted us to go to church and then to the indoor flea market and craft store. This little outing was such necessary medicine. It didn't matter what the sermon was about or that it was still only about 10 degrees outside. The simple act of connecting with other people and investing a few hours in myself saved my sanity.  I think of all the trouble I could have saved myself if I would have called her sooner than later, after I had reached my limit. I have a bad habit of letting seclusion sneak upon me.

It's sort of ironic that I've spent my evenings contemplating this new book The Fringe Hours by Jessica N. Turner. It is packed with practical wisdom and great reminders for anyone in a busy season of life.  It is about making room in your day to day life for doing things that make you feel whole and set your priorities in a way that you can ultimately be a more fulfilled as a person.  (I have to admit I feel a little lazy as the author says she gets up at 5 am to make time for herself, reading, praying, exercising and what not. I am just not a crack of dawn person and I'm o.k. with that.) The idea behind the book is finding what she calls "fringe hours" that work for your own lifestyle so that you can fit in the things that bring you joy whether it be a hobby or some other thing that fills your soul. Her premises is that if you want to do something bad enough you will make time for it.  You will find creative solutions, you will overcome any obstacles in your path and banish the excuses. You will just do it. 

Moral of the story: even a week of snow days is not a good excuse to slip on self care, even though you can't leave and everyone else you are stuck with wants your attention because they are dying of boredom and hunger and boredom.

As much as I want to believe no excuse is good enough, I have not found this to be easy in my own life as a young mom where some days it's a struggle to simply take a shower or sit down through an entire meal. I mean if I can barely meet the minimum requirements of sleeping, eating and bathing how can I have time to add any thing else? During these seasons of life you just sort of adapt and step into survival mode and may not really notice that you are missing out on much until it catches up to you. Depending on how good you can cope or your expectations of life, this can take days, months or even years. Overlooking yourself can continue past the busy season and creating extra things for yourself to be busied by becomes habit. By that time, backtracking can be pretty difficult. We don't know what the best version of ourselves looks like anymore. We're o.k. with how things are even if things aren't great, even if we never have time to breathe.  We wouldn't know how to enjoy ourselves and have no idea what our passions might be if we were given a chance to practice them.  

Probably, the biggest take away from this book was that I am the only one who can make time for myself, no one else is going to do it for me. There are some women I know who actually schedule things. I am more spontaneous and that doesn't always mesh well with caring for myself.  I think, "I will do this thing if I get around to it." More often than not, I don't get around to it. So if that thing is something that I need, like a chat with a friend or fulfilling the desire to create, or to read a book or be passionate about something, I find myself moping through a life that is all work and no play. Those things are the easiest to push out of our schedules but doing so is not free of consequence like we often think. 

If you are a skeptic and thinking, "well, that sounds wonderful but not realistic especially at this time in my life" or "I can get by without self care" trust me, I understand and have thought the same. Here's the thing, we will always have problems and face tension in life no matter how self disciplined we are with our time and making sure we allot enough of it for own our well being. This thing can become an unrealistic goal for sure if we let it. Some seasons of life are busier or more difficult than others. However, does that mean we should settle for survival mode and culture's idea of glorified busyness? And if that wasn't enough, those of us in the church culture are constantly being called upon to serve and sacrifice and lay down our life. Realizing that we will have nothing to give without making a few a deposits in the bank helps balance that calling out. Think about Jesus sneaking away from the crowds to pray or the times he spent eating and talking with just His close friends. He practiced good boundaries for sure. I am certainly no expert on the subject, just an honest person who was forced to stop in the throes of her own busyness and wondering how to achieve this balance when life picks back up.

Some one please remind me of this in about 2 or 3 months when I am holding a new born who consumes every last minute of my day. Btw I used to LOVE that my kids consume all my time (in case this is starting to sound at all selfish) but yet that's kind of how I always ended up in survival mode in the first place.  It's just not healthy. I can say that guilt free at this point in my journey but can easily remember a time when I couldn't. You're still a servant, a good mom/dad/employee/whatever if you're entire being does not revolve around this one role in life leaving you to eek by. I promise. In fact, you are probably better off for it and are more effective at whatever role you're trying to fulfill. And you will be heck of a lot happier too :) 

If you are interested in reading more about the Fringe Hours make sure you visit fringehours.com for great resources and here is a short interview with the author 

I had to include this applicable post on Hands Free Mama about mothering yourself  The Kind of Mothering We All Need  (side note: if the title didn't give it away, this is not just for moms)

I also want you to know that I am sitting on the couch with a movie on at 8 a.m., the dawn of yet another snow day. So, don't worry, I'll have plenty of time to practice what I preach.

Do something you love today so you can be present with the people you love. Find some time for prayer or mediation, savor a cup of coffee or a meal or a conversation, paint a picture, read a book, go for a walk, whatever it might be: find your fringe.

Thanks for being here today,

Jenna

One Day at a Time

The last couple weeks have been as busy as they can be when one is recumbent to her couch. My baby shower was last weekend so I permitted myself a short outing and it was just lovely with family and a few close friends.  Utmost thanks to my sis in law and her husband for opening up their home and knowing how to be gracious and prepared hosts. My best friend came and stayed a few days, a brave soul to enter our chaotic world right now. We watched a million movies and talked and talked and allowed ourselves to be the laziest we have ever been since high school. I was beyond thrilled that it worked out for her to come to the shower and needless to say I was sad to see her go. 

I am 30 weeks along now and couldn't be happier that we are closer and closer to full term. I am more optimistic about making it all the way at this point.  One of my doctors even said that she would take me off bed rest now with the agreement to take it easy. (She followed these instructions up with the fact that she does not even believe in bed rest and was basically saying the opposite of what the previous doctors have said. Hmmm... well I was prematurely excited about her advice and while I would've liked to have heard it upon my hospital discharge, I'm kind of glad I didn't. So my happiness was fleeting as I considered that she was on vacation while I was being admitted for preterm labor and I am hesitant to put too much stock in what she says.) I am moving around a little more since that appointment, hopefully not too much. I still feel great, no contractions or pain other than the normal discomfort one faces when carrying around a cantaloupe sized human in their uterus. 

My biggest struggle right now is sleep. I'm getting to that uncomfortable bit at the end of pregnancy where you have two options for sleeping positions: 1) on your side with a pillow under your belly and between your knees (read: it feels like your stomach is ripping away from your body no matter how many pillows are involved) or 2) propped up on your back (read: pressure from the baby on my spine and other organs especially my bladder can only be tolerated for about 20 minutes). So between running to the bathroom and switching positions and the house coming alive at 6:30 a.m. I am pretty much an insomniac these days; sleeping only when the kids are at school and watching Gilmore Girls or reading into the wee hours of the morning. It's not that bad, I'm just whiney because its 9 am and I haven't really been to sleep yet. Maybe if I just keep this schedule Ill be more prepared for middle of the night feedings with Joel? Ha. Who am I kidding? No one and nothing can really prepare me for what lies ahead. Grace for the moment is my mantra. 

Although that is the other activity I'm engaged in while not sleeping. Planning. Lists. Dreaming. Trying my darndest to get my ducks in a row before the world gets flipped on its head. Again.  For a third time mom you would think I would be more confident. These little humans have stripped everything I think I know from me. As soon as I think I've got it down they are out of that phase and moved on to a new dilemma. Every season there is a new challenge. 

This newborn deal is no different. On one hand there is no amount of preparation that can really help us when we are in the trenches with a new baby. We might have to run to the store at 3 am and research different sleep training or attachment methods and call the doctor for no good reason because we are just desperate. On the other hand, we have to prepare what we can in a reasonable manner so that we are not completely caught off guard when there are no diapers or pacifiers or clean onsies and in that moment when there's a newborn screeching at you it just feels like it's the end of the world.

I've began to think about preparing so much without actually getting to do it that it makes me stop and wonder if over preparing can do more harm than good. I mean, is it realistic that we can have a plan A, B, and C for every possible scenario or upset? I have had more time to research my labor, delivery and postpartum experience than I ever have before. Last night I was getting ready to drift off to sleep when I started reading about natural child birth methods vs. all the different types of epidurals or pain meds; the if, when and how to safely use drugs to manage your pain during labor. (Yeah, didn't get much sleep after that.) I've read about banking cord blood and encapsulating my placenta and looked up too many recipes for lactation cookies and smoothies. I've studied breastfeeding positions and sleep methods and pinned a bazillion freezer meals. The phenomenon of a nesting mother can be quite useful or she can allow it to drive her to restless nights in which she goes over and over her list of things to do, decisions to make. 

One of the movies we watched in our binge last weekend was "I Don't Know How She Does It" with Sarah Jessica Parker. The movie follows a working mom's struggle to keep it all together and to keep a part of herself without fully abandoning her family or her marriage. At night she always lays in bed and makes out "the List" in her head if she hasn't first dropped over dead from exhaustion. In the end, after having to leave  her family Thanksgiving for a last minute business trip and missing the opportunity to make a snowman with her daughter, she makes a new list consisting of only two items: "Get my life together" and "Stop making lists."

In my opinion "the List" will always exist, and on some levels it needs to, but obsessing about it is a form of worry that robs of us of a greater focus. I don't want to be so focused on checking things off that I miss the point. Yet I constantly find myself doing it. Maybe that is why these words have resurfaced in my life over and over again: "Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes."

Or the short version: "Tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

Sometimes I plan to be smart and prepared. Other times I plan out of fear. Out of this anxious scramble for control and to self preserve. Sometimes the line between the two goes blurry. I often have to stop and examine my motives.  I also have to remind myself that I cannot avoid pain or strife in life altogether. It is just not possible, and if it were humanity would be completely boring and most likely never mature past newborn mentality.

This post by Sarah Bessey totally caught me off guard this week. She talks about "leaning into pain" and experiencing the lessons it has to offer us. The metaphor of giving birth is quite fitting as she explains the Fear Tension Pain Cycle; how when we feel pain and we tense up or enter into anxiety it then increases the pain and in turn increases our anxiety. So it becomes a cycle of pain and fear feeding off of each other, building and building, until it is towering over us and we feel we can't escape. But we also have the option changing our perspective of the pain and its purpose and letting it empower us, not control us. (It's a beautiful metaphor really, but I will most likely still want the drugs when it comes right down to it. Birth hurts regardless and should be worn as a badge of honor no matter how it went down, amen?)

This whole process of co-creating, pregnancy and birth and the ripping away from our old idea of family to make room for one more isn't supposed to be painless. It is uncomfortable, terrifying and at times excruciating. It will test your physical, emotional and spiritual limits and then have the audacity to ask for one more push, one more sleepless night, one more story, mommy, please. I love how blogger Lisa Jo Baker always says that "being a parent is a lot like breaking up with yourself." Funny because its true. 

I suppose its like this with all of life and love. There is always a risk involved, a good chance that we will experience pain or the rawness of sacrifice. And unless we open ourselves up to that we never get to fully experience all that we might learn or become. We can either hide from the pain with all our best laid plans or we can embrace it, knowing that it is well worth the outcome. I'm not advocating throwing all caution to the wind, but simply abandoning over guardedness for the sake of something breathtaking and real.  

Life in all its glory...
ugly and beautiful, 
joyous and painful, 
all in the same breath.

Maybe now I can get some sleep before the kids get home.


Thanks for listening today,

Jenna

The Art of Asking

Well it's week 28 for little Joel (almost 29!) and week 3 of bed rest for me. (Read why I'm on bed rest here) Everything has slowed way down. I'm so thankful that resting seems to be working its magic although it's becoming increasingly difficult to stay in a constant state of relaxation. (Who would've thought?!) My doctor's visits so far have been nothing but positive and that helps me keep sane.

I've had some rough moments, like a few days ago when the wires got crossed on who was picking the kids up from school. Turns out no one. After my daughter calls innocently asking who is bringing them home, I hung up and just started getting ready to go get them myself.  Even though my mind is telling me to call someone, my strangled independence is looking for the car keys. Luckily, I couldn't find them. So I called John at work and thanks to his sister  the problem was solved with relative ease. But for some reason that just really got to me. Maybe it's hormones, maybe its just feeling out the frustrations of not being able to do much. I finally convinced myself it wasn't a big deal and that my helplessness is only temporary. Soon a new baby will come and I'll have plenty to do and I'll be longing for the rest I am getting now. For the time being, I have this little reminder of why I have to keep still.

My daughter picked this out as a Christmas gift, how sweet is that?

It's such a weird feeling that I can go back to sleep after the kids leave for school if I want to. It's a little hard to walk away from a pile of dishes or toys or clothes that I'm used to putting away. It feels against my nature to let the kids watch hours of tv after school or not really have a plan for the week. Not to mention, having to re-prioritize my pre-baby to do list. "Re-prioritize" meaning these things are probably not going to happen before he comes.

So I just keep looking at this little figurine on my mantle and telling myself: "I'm doing what I need to be doing right now." Not only for me, but for the little boy depending on me to take care of myself. Bed rest or not, people prosper when we take care of our needs.

I think as mothers (or any type of role where we are primarily serving others in a high capacity) certain personalities take a backseat and tend to forget about self care. It's not intentional, it just kind of happens. We just keep pushing and somewhere we cross a line and if we do it for long enough it can be somewhat destructive or at best unhealthy. Being a young mom, I've experienced the downside of not taking proper care of myself more often than not.

For the better part of my 20's I was so thirsty. Literally. I would just forget to drink water or anything really. This sounds insane but it's true. I would experience fatigue and not understand why I was so tired until John started asking, "What have you had to drink today Jenn?" I would think about it and I couldn't remember anything. Now chances are I was not so busy that I didn't have time to grab a bottle of water, its just that it became a bad habit. I just got used to depriving myself of it. As I matured and became more in tune with my needs, I realized what should have been obvious and the huge difference staying hydrated makes in how you feel and your energy levels. As you can imagine this made me a much more pleasant person to be around and a better mom to my kids.

That started opening me up to looking at other things I could do to care for myself. Like eating right or exercising or taking down time. It was sort of a fascinating time for me as I learned more about my needs and how it made me a better caregiver when those needs were met. And yes I'm making this sound entirely too easy.

Since I'm not allowed off the couch all I do is take care of myself. Or ask other people to. If I need something upstairs someone has to get it for me. If I want a meal more complex than a bowl of cereal someone has to make it for me.  I'm barely allowed to refill my own ice water if someone else is around. "What do you need? I'll get it!" While I'm forever grateful to my helpers, its hard to always ask something of others. Guess my dream of living at Downton wouldn't be so fun after all.

Breakfast in bed anyone?

A hard slow lesson that I'm learning is that asking for help is an integral part of taking care of ourselves. It's not something that I'm used to doing or particularly like doing. It just so happens that this was one of the things I was working on with my mentor before all this happened.  She has to constantly remind me that communicating our needs and even our wants is a sign of mental health and wellness.  Apparently, somewhere along the path of motherhood I fell into the lie that I needed to be self sufficient and asking for help somehow meant that I was incapable or couldn't handle things on my own. Plus, I hated the thought of inconveniencing people.

Then I found out that maybe we're not supposed handle it all on our own and that sometimes people need to be "inconvenienced" with the problems of others. It reminds us that we're all finite and helps to get us outside of ourselves. Whether it be some kind of physical ailment or stress or emotional heaviness or even just a bad day, we weren't intended to shoulder the burden by ourselves. We thrive the most as individuals in connection and community and sharing life. That includes joyous times of celebration but also meeting everyday practical needs and then right down to holding someone's hand while they grieve.  So this practice of sharing life together isn't limited to birthday parties and baby showers but includes car pools and listening at the end of a hard day and funerals and depression and times where it feels like we need help to hold our heads above the water. 

But when we act like we don't need or want help when we really really do, we aren't doing anyone any favors. There are people who genuinely need to help for their own sake. It's a win win. Then in the future, we may get the blessing of returning the favor. Not because a return favor is expected but we all know we have certain people who we ask for help. It's usually people who we have a give and take relationship with, not someone who appears to have it all together and never ever needs help. That's no fun. Asking for help is just as much a spiritual act as giving is.

This is what I'm thinking about when I am lying around all day and being waited on. It's ironic how life throws us situations where we get to practice riding a wave that we usually prefer to observe from the shore. The sooner we learn to ride it out, the less chance of being caught in the undertow. Hope I still feel this way come week 6.

More to come,

Jenna

oh! and here are a few things from around the web that inspired me this week, happy reading!

"No You're Not a Real mom Because Your House is Messy"  By Lauren Hartman

"The Spiritual Discipline of Learning Nothing" over at Chatting at the Sky

This *free* ebook: "A Little Salty to Cut the Sweet"  by Sophie  Hudson has helped keep my mood light all week. She chronicles stories about her southern family with a witty style that will make you grin while you read. 

and last but not least...

How adorable is this nursery via Apartment Therapy? Someday soon I will be allowed to decorate again but this is how I will cope in the meantime

Update on Baby Joel

Its been a week officially since I was admitted to the hospital. I was unsure whether or not I should write about it and told myself I would take a week to process everything. If I still wanted to blog about it at the end of a week, then I would.

Two Sundays ago, I was having a normal 'prepping for the week and dreading it at the same time' kind of evening. I hadn't done anything particularly out of ordinary and, other than an achy back, felt ok for being 26 weeks along with baby number three. I'm rounding out that middle trimester where you usually feel as good as you can while you tote around another human the size of a butternut squash inside of you. Anyways, I am walking up the stairs to go to sleep and by the time I reach the top my back is shooting pain so badly I can barely make it over to bed so I can lie down. I call for John and he makes the executive decision to call the squad while I'm freaking out and wincing in pain. They were there in less than 2 minutes. They escort me down the icy steps and into the ambulance. On the way to the hospital, I'm panic stricken to say the least. The fear is probably worse than the pain at this point. The EMT tries to make conversation with me to keep me calm but  all I can do is brace myself and give short answers.

Once at the hospital, I'm taken straight to labor and delivery. "Say the word 'baby' around here and people jump." the EMT said as he wheeled me to check in. By the time I'm in an exam room, John is there and another wave of pain is washing over me. I see a nurse, my doctor comes in. They run tests and take blood and listen to Joel's quick little heart. Next thing I know I'm signing papers and they are starting an IV.

"Wait, wait." I'm thinking. "This is where you tell me these are normal pregnancy pains and I'm a hypochondriac. Give me some pain meds and send me home!"

"You're being admitted" the nurse explains. "It's possible you're at risk for preterm labor."

I'm still in shock. Denial even. She said 'possible.' My first pregnancies were smooth sailing and this one is supposed to be the same.

John and I don't talk really except with our eyes and the occasional hand squeeze. It's going to be ok, he's going to be ok. I'm glad we are here. Glad we are together.

He stays with me through the night as they start me on some medicine that will slow the contractions. Which I'm still doubting and hoping that's not what the pain is, but then another one comes the fourth or fifth since I've been here. When it finally dies down and the medicine kicks in its around 3 am. I think I slept. I don't remember. The side effects are taking over, nausea and drowsiness and double vision. A small price to pay if  it is contractions.

I do remember the nurse waking me. She is sticking me with needles and taking my blood pressure and moving the monitor around my tummy to hear Joel's tiny heartbeat echo through the room. That sound is like a lullaby that soothes my fears. Each kick I feel helps me relax. People are praying for me, I can tell. My mom is on her way to sit with me and possibly help with the kids for the next few days. I am always comforted by her presence conflicted with the idea that this is serious enough to call in reinforcements.

I stay here in this place of doubt, hope, denial, fighting to stay positive amidst all the questions and fear. I'm constantly trying to decode what the doctors and nurses are saying. I feel like I have the flu. My mouth is so dry I can't eat.  They give me steroids to develop Joel's lungs. I can't sleep. They give me sleeping pills. I have nightmares and hallucinate. I want the lights on but I can't see and when I close my eyes I see things I don't want to. Like dark clouds rolling over my head or something looming beside me. When I squint I know it's just the incubator that is set up in the room.

I peer through the glass to the empty little bed and hope and pray there will be no use for it. This is just a practice run. This is all just precaution. After all "Say the word 'baby' around here and people jump." Right?

Finally it's Wednesday and they have taken me off the medicine, they let me take a shower and I'm feeling slightly human again. Yesterday, they told me there is a 50/50 chance I will still make it to full term and talk like I can even go back to work soon. I'm thinking I might take the rest of the week off or something. The doctor who admitted me wants to run one more test before I leave. This test sounds like the only sure fire way to know whether or not I'm in preterm labor.

"Why are they just doing this now?"  I think as they are prodding me one more time. "I'm fairly sure the test will be negative."

The test takes an hour to come back and I'm expecting the doctor to pop in be delighted that it was negative and tell me to pack up and go home. That all this was overkill and you can never be to careful when it comes to preterm labor. I'll accept her apology for putting me through this and the next time I see her in a room like this she will be delivering my baby at 40 weeks. Maybe I'll stop for a green smoothie on the way home.

When she comes back a little over an hour later she wastes no time telling me the test was positive. I am in labor. She's going to send me home on bed rest and hopes I make it a few more weeks. The longer the better obviously. She says good job for coming and knowing my body and she's so glad they caught it early enough.

I am floored. I am still floored one week later. Things could be worse, yes things could be a lot worse. I'm not the first woman to be put on bed rest or go through a preterm labor scare. Not the first to wonder how things will go at home, wondering how our little family of four will work if I'm barely allowed off the couch. Not the first to want to call her doctor over every little pain or concern.

But it is my first time. I'm going to allow myself a certain amount of reasonable unease. Enough to keep me on this couch for 6 weeks or however long I make it. Beyond that, I have resolved to think positive and keep my mind busy. I'm going to write blogs and journals and read every book I've ever wanted to. I will craft and watch futile yet entertaining series on Netflix. As many as I want at the same time. And I'm not going to research preemies or preterm labor or really focus on anything pregnancy related. When all else fails, I will call one of the many people who have been supportive to me through this and I know I can count on them to remind me of my purpose.

This purpose is really in no way different than any other time in motherhood. I am protecting and nurturing a little life that I carry with me everywhere I go. Even mothers of grown children will tell you, this is still their purpose as a mom. Protect and nurture. This is a literal acting out of noble motherhood, with all it's sacrifices and heart wrenching love. I'm giving up my body and my privileges and my day to day agenda for someone else for a few weeks. But in essence, don't we do that everyday as mothers without blinking? And really its not just mothers. This experience is teaching me well that crisis brings people's true values to life and its a beautiful, humbling thing to be a recipient of.

My doctor said she wouldn't wish bed rest on her worst enemy. Well. It's only been a week so I may be jumping the gun by saying that I want to learn all I can from this experience. I am already learning to just say yes when people want to help or offer you support. I'm learning that my husband is way more amazing than I ever give him credit for. I am learning to let go of my way and my expectations and realize how little control I actually have over my life. I'm focusing on savoring  little moments of joy and storing them up for when I am struggling through my long quiet day.

I'm also just trying to take each day as it comes. At the end of this I wont look back and regret that I didn't worry more or rack my mind with all the possible outcomes. No. One step at a time. Today is a good day: I slept in to a perfectly unreasonable hour, baby Joel is kicking the laptop as I balance it on my tummy, and I'm looking at my first ultrasound since the hospital. The technician said it looked perfect.

Sharing this story in such detail was not something I intended to do. It just sort of came out when I started typing. Like I said, I was not sure whether I would. As I sit here and edit and muster the courage to hit the publish button my inner critic starts piping up as it often does. More than ever, now is when I have to tell it to be quiet and let people in. I have received so much support from those around me who already know what is going on and I just have this sneaking suspicion that this is one of those times when you can't have too much of something. There's no such thing as too many people who care, too many prayers, or too much love. Thanks in advance from the bottom of my heart.

Jenna

p.s.- I'll keep you posted. (Probably a lot more now since I'm tethered to the couch:)