Day 73 and Counting

I'm starting to want to put a few things down. I've waited and waited because:

1. I can't stop coughing
2. I'm not sure I wanted to remember.

Thankfully I don't remember the first half. When I hear the bits and pieces I shudder. I rejoice that I'm alive. I cry because I just don't understand how quick life can change; it can be ripped right out of your hands. But mostly I cry because of how prayer really does affect our world.

A lot has been shared on Facebook so you may know most of this story but this is my telling, my perspective.

My whole family had been sick and I was the last to get it. It came on pretty strong with aches, sore throat, coughing, that kind of thing. Two days of this had me at urgent care where they concluded I had the flu but they couldn't give tamiflu since I was still nursing Joel. Rest and fluids and you'll be fine he told me. I went home to a miserable night of coughing up blood but I wasn't worried because Google said unless it's bright red no cause for alarm.

Early that morning I felt like I was having an asthma attack, only I grew out of my asthma years ago. I felt so weak and breathless that I couldn't get out of bed. I was getting scared and knew I needed help. Of all nights to forget to charge my phone this had to be the worst. Unfortunately John was sleeping downstairs with the baby since I was sick. I resolved to at least get to  the top of the stairs.

I crawled out of bed over to the stairs. I tried calling out but I was breathing so hard I couldn't get my voice loud enough. Luckily there were some toys and random things laying in the hall. I started pitching them down stairs. John stumbled over and once he saw me he knew something wasn't right. I whispered in broken speech that I could barely breathe. He carried me over to the big windows in our room and opened them hoping the cool air would help clear my lungs. He left me sitting on the window seat to see if he could find some medicine. I sat there feeling so weak I might fall out that window.

In a matter of minutes the squad was parked outside  with its red lights streaking across its surroundings. A paramedic carried me down the stairs of our skinny row house and next thing I know I'm taking an ineffective breathing treatment and trying to answer questions through restricted breathing. It felt like someone was hugging me too tight and wouldn't let go. I was afraid but never imagined the outcome to be remotely serious.

                                   

Once in the ER they tried different breathing masks to no avail. And after that my memory drops off. I don't know if I blacked out, I've tried so hard I just can't remember. 

Apparently I was transported to a couple  different hospitals until I ended up at the UC cardio vascular ICU. During all the transporting and trying to figure out what was wrong, things were going downhill fast and I was in multi organ failure before they knew it. Friends and family were gathered, prayers were going up and hope was shaky.  Once at UC, the process of saving my life was set into motion. I was on a vent, ECMO, had a tracheotomy and put on every drug under the sun. I was there for a month fighting to live but I remember nothing. Just flashes.

                                       

I remember being strapped to the bed while tubes were inserted in various areas of my body. Fighting, I remember fighting to get up and seeing the pictures on the wall of my life, my beautiful family that my grieving yet prayerful mother had taped up. I remember trying to communicate so hard but just not being able to. I remember tears and horrible nightmares. But I also remember the staff lining the hall as I was wheeled out to be transferred to a Long Term Acute Care facility at Christ Hospital. They all clapped with smiles and waves, celebrating my life. I really didn't understand still what I had been through.

I was in LTAC for another month trying to repair some of the damage that was done. I've had chest tubes, feeding tubes, IVs, a trach, and more pain than I thought my body could endure. 

I've lost most of my muscle mass which I'm trying hard to regain. Right now I'm in rehab doing just that. For 3 hours every day I am up exercising and relearning to balance and walk. It can be really exhausting after lying in bed for as long as I have. I was terrified to come here, scared that I couldn't do it. But I've been surprised what a little trying can do. 

                                   

I've been up, I've been down. I was depressed for the first part of my stay that I was conscious. I was in shock: how could the flu knock me down so hard? 

(Which I'm learning more and more that it wasn't just the flu, but more like a rare H1N1 combined with strep which led to double pneumonia and infection in my blood). But the more I heard about the darkest part of this story, I can't help but be thankful that I made it. I've seen miracles before in other people's lives and my own. But our day to day life tends to make us forget. 

We forget that miracles aren't just in the thin pages of the Bible that's tucked away somewhere. They don't just  happen to other people. The thing is miracles happen during pain and suffering. We don't see miracles in the everyday drive to work, do the dishes life. Maybe things come together like extra cash comes our way right when we need it. Or we find our car keys just in time.  No. Miracles involve pain and grief, hurt and true loss. Miracles can be slow, they can be a process. We might not always recognize them. And maybe sometimes they don't show up at all and we are heartbroken and we ask why. I wish I knew but I don't. All I know is that I'm here against all odds.

I met another guy like me, he came with his wife to visit my room. I think his chances of living we're even smaller than mine, but there he was sitting in my room talking and laughing. Living proof of healing. Another miracle breaking through suffering. 

I really don't know what to make of all this. I'm still processing and probably will be for some time. I suppose miracles are really just mysteries to us and sometimes all we can do is be grateful. I feel like I've barely scratched the surface. As I sit here in rehab and look out the window over the city I think about all the people milling around down there. I think about their stories, their pain and if they've experienced miracles. My story feels so little, so small in this huge hospital filled with hurting people. I look at them and try to smile. I pray for their miracles to come soon.

            

I couldn't be more grateful to the people around me and my family. If you said a prayer or encouraging word. If you visited, waited in the lobby or brought food. If you have sacrificed time, vacation days, or a drive to Cincinnati. Some very kind friends organized a benefit to raise money for our medical bills. My hairstylist even came to cut my hair to make it more manageable. Maybe you sent a card or made a card, maybe you clicked 'like' or shared an update on Facebook. You might have bought a gift or gave money. Maybe you listened to my story. If you're reading this now: thank you from the bottom of my heart. Every little bit has gotten me through. I can't thank you all enough for your support.

More to come...

Jenna 

The Longest First Year

I stop and think all the time, "I can't believe it has almost been one year." Time is such a fluid concept but it just keeps trudging on day after day. Yes, some days it flies by and we think "where did it go?" But this last year? It has drug on and on. Its felt more like 2 years, maybe 3. And when I think, "I can't believe it" its from sheer joy that it's almost done, it feels like an accomplishment.

Before you dub me a cynic, let me explain. I've alluded in my sparse blogging over the past year how Joel will just. not. sleep. I know, I know, babies aren't supposed to sleep and they have to learn and they will eventually and so on and so forth. All parents go through sleepless nights and weeks and *cringe* years. I get it. It's nothing unique or out of the ordinary. Most people look at me like I'm crazy when I say my baby won't sleep and maybe they are thinking "what did you expect exactly?"

Some perspective on what I mean when I would say "he won't sleep."  He would go down in the evening at varied times and wake up every 2 hours on the dot. He would eat and usually go right back to sleep. (There was an occasional night/series of nights when he would wake around 4 am and think it was morning.) He would "sleep" for 10-11 hours before he was up for good. Now this is totally what you expect from a newborn. (At least my other two were like this and were for the most part good sleepers by the time they hit 6 months. Joel must have missed the memo on how we do things around here.)

Naps? 40 minutes tops. Sometimes 20. Other day time habits? Constant eating. Nursing every 2 hours, baby food 4 times a day after he turned 7-8 months. Before that it was more varied because he stopped having regular bowel movements when we initially tried cereal and purees at 6 months.

Initially this was really concerning because his doctor was starting to think something may be up. After one appointment around 6 months, he had a CDC done and it came back with a really low iron level and some other irregularities so our doctor directed us to the ER at Children's Hospital.  We were there all night, waited 7 hours or so to get in. Once we were seen, they ran every test they could think of only to find nothing wrong and joined us in our confusion as to why we were there. We left with a prescription for a multivitamin iron supplement. Cherry flavored.

So with the health issues ruled out, I thought, "Am I doing something wrong?" That's when the search was on.

I pored over all the books, blogs, and articles about baby sleep. I tried to apply scientific reasoning as to why his sleep cycles weren't connecting. I tried all the methods I could think of: I co-slept, he slept across the room in a crib, and then I docked the crib to our bed with one side down. Before that I tried him in a swing, a mama roo,  a rock and play, a pack and play, and even in a car seat for crying out loud (he was sick!). I swaddled, tried a sleep sack, footie pjs, just a onsie.  I let him cry within reasonable time constraints,(maybe he will get tired and give up?) I picked him up at every little sound (maybe he is waking himself too much?) I've nursed, not nursed, nursed one side at time (foremilk, hind milk imbalance?), my husbands given him formula at night. I have tried cereal before bed. I have even tried to feed him baby food pouches in the middle of the night. White noise. Music. Pacifiers. Gas drops. Essential oils. Cool mist. Room darkening curtains. Baths. Massages. Night time rituals. Desperate. Completely desperate.  That's the phrase you are looking for.

Putting this story out here is risky because I know how quickly unwarranted advice can come in from well meaning sources. I am guilty myself of offering up advice because something worked for my child. I feel accomplished and want to share that with you. But advice in this situation makes me feel like you just don't get it. I mean I have been in the newborn funk for almost an entire year now. Normally, I would love advice and trust me I have gotten plenty of it this last year. I am not just a prideful, do it my way kind of gal, At one point, I was asking advice of every mom I would encounter. "Oh you had a baby?? Did they sleep longer than 2 hours at a time? Were they nursed or bottle fed? Did you have a bedtime routine or follow baby's cues? When did you night wean? Did you try anything I haven't tried? Tell me your entire process of how you get your baby to SLEEP."

Nothing worked, nothing helped. I was so tired, I was irrational. I was consumed by not sleeping, it's all I could think about or talk about. I was obsessed, I was angry, I was weepy. My days were blurry and unfocused.  I felt like I was stuck in a miserable cycle and like a victim to my life. I had zero energy to do the things that help me feel normal. Not a fun place to be. Sure there were plenty of those moments where I would let my mind rest on how grateful I am for my healthy baby (mostly when I was holding him through nap time because I just couldn't take the chance of him waking). There were plenty of smiles and giggles and celebrating new milestones. But for awhile, those were all experienced with the dark cloud of no sleep hanging over my head.

Now this probably sounds like a rant, a complaint letter of sorts. And in a way it is. Venting is part of the healing process, no? But it's more than that. Because you know what finally helped a little, tiny bit? Acceptance. To just throw in the towel on trying to control the situation and researching every last detail. To just say this is my life and this is how Joel is for the time being and I am done fighting. Writing this all down feels like a pledge to just be vulnerable to the unexpected. Really this applies to all things about our children we aren't madly in love with. To take whatever happens and just roll with it. Instead of dreading and fearing every cry, counting every missed hour of sleep I would just think "I can get through this moment. I will find a way to deal with whatever arises." And one little moment at a time, even though I was (am) still tired as ever I felt the fog get a little lighter.

Then around the beginning of this year Joel started to sleep 3 hour stretches at night consistently. Not a vast improvement I know but it had to count for something. The only thing I was doing differently was laying him in his crib every single time he fell sleep. Even if it was for only 20 minutes I thought, then that is 20 minutes I will use to do something for me. No cleaning or tending to other kids, just only taking care of whatever needs I had been putting off for myself so far that day. By the time he was 10 months, he was starting to take longer naps in his crib. He will usually sleep an hour or maybe a little more if he had a rough night .

And now at 11 months, he can sleep up to 5 hours at a time. He doesn't do this every night and still this is nothing to write home about but it tells me he is able. Hope is in sight as he gradually progresses to a full nights sleep. I usually still wake up every 3 hours and pray that I can go right back to sleep. Most of the time I can, but sometimes I just have to get up because I think my body is just conditioned to waking so often. So I will wake before the rest of the house and have tea and write and do things that help my soul to feel rested even if my body is not.

So I don't have a happy ending where I tell you things are back to normal and I conquered the no sleep drudgery. I have no awesome advice or moral of the story. I will say that I have never valued empathy more than I do right now. Empathy is the one response I have received that makes me feel like I just want to say "thank you, you get it".  When someone says "oh man I have been there" they help validate that his not sleeping is not a result of my failure to do something but that sometimes babies and life just throws you a curve ball.


I remember sitting in the chair in my room nursing Joel not too long ago listening the this podcast where this mom describes her sleep struggles.  And I just laughed... and then I cried.. and then I laughed and cried at the same time. It felt like a small victory to have that reaction as I listened to someone say "me too." This mom talks about how sometimes we measure our mothering by how well our children sleep, which sounds silly to say out loud! But unfortunately I think it's true and I could write a whole other post about why it is and other cultural norms that we unnecessarily frame our parenting by. Suffice it to say while her experience was not exactly the same as mine, hearing her voice it and some of the reasons behind it just lightened my load. Revealing our struggles is empowering both for us and our witnesses. It gives them permission to do the same. Empathy is a powerful practice. 


This was all over Facebook some time ago but in case you missed it:

::Brene Brown on empathy::

Thanks so much for reading and for being empathetic listeners ;)

Jenna

PS...If any of this post sounds even a little familiar to the season you're in or have experienced.. run to this post over at Sarah Bessey's blog: The Nightwatch such a beautiful, real account of night parenting with purpose.

Home Again

I have to steal this moment before it steals away from me. I sit on the porch, swinging the baby to sleep. His droopy eyelids put me at ease.

Rain is falling, drizzling from the drain pipe filling the ground on this unusually warm weekend after Christmas. Half of the family has gone to church and after some clean up we just swing.

Theres something about this spot that fills the soul and allows contentment to just be. Theres nothing tugging or sneaking around the back of your mind saying "if only" or "but this." Just for a stand still moment everything is fine and right in this tiny corner of the world.

I talked about writing with mom this morning as we sipped coffee probably not as long as we would like. 

I told her how my best friend discovered an old journal from middle school and how it was so detailed it was painstaking to read. I told her how the itch to write is always there, how I miss it. How the vulnerability of it is both difficult and rewarding. Then as I swing I have to scratch these words down, hoping they find their way to a screen.

After Christmas as a child, I always remember feeling full. Like all my wishes had been granted. But sometime within a few weeks that feeling would weaken and things would go back to normal. Wanting more, needing to be filled up and looking in all the wrong places.

As I swing my baby and look out over the soggy yard where I used to play years ago I am full and it has nothing to do with the gifts that were under the tree. I look to where the sycamore tree used to be and I remember that place of solitude and peace. Its not there anymore, it was cut down and I'm sad to say I don't know why or when. But that feeling is still here. Its a feeling I try to return to in my prayers when the world feels a little too big. And here on the porch, with the rain coming down around me I find it. So I pause as long as I possibly can (which isn't long, I hear my middle at the screen door now).

So after a season that leaves us feeling stuffed and overfed and maybe even a little guilty I am focusing on a different type of fullness. This is one that has nothing to do with the time of year or how life is going at any given moment.  It comes from source I cant see and can't tap into with my own power. Sometimes it catches me off guard on a day like today. I have to remain open to it even tho I never know when and where it might turn up. This unpredictable timing tells me that its always there, waiting to sneak up on me and make me smile and appreciate life that much more. 

This secure feeling comes from knowing a good, good Father. Knowing his peace and grace and provision. But yet, it is just a feeling and we all know how fickle those things are. I suppose that is where faith comes in and we lean in despite how we feel or how our circumstances appear. We count all the goodness of his gifts and look for them even when we have to squint. And then somewhere along the way we find we are content with what we have, right where we're at; no more, no less. True, we may forget from time to time and start making lists of things we need or want only to come full circle and realize the reasons behind those things and that we can have fullness without them. 

I hope your Christmas was merry and bright and full of the fuzzy feelings we love.  As those feelings fade into the New Year and our consumerism rolls into resolutions, I hope we all had a moment or two of true fullness and that we learn the balance that allows us to always come back to it. 

From Ours to Yours, 

Happy Holidays 

Ps - Love this over at Lazy Genius:

Put down that list of resolutions and read this first 

(scroll down a bit to find the post)

http://www.thelazygeniuscollective.com/blog/

What I Remember on the Bad Days

There was one miraculous morning that I woke up before the kids. I wasn't feeling quite well enough to settle back in after the baby's early morning feeding so I stumbled down the stairs for some tea and tylenol. I had every intention in going back to bed, After rummaging through our lacking medicine inventory and discovering there was only caffeinated tea I reluctantly decided to just stay awake. I think about the computer sitting there silently inviting me to type, knowing full well it takes several of these mornings to actually put together a blog post.

You see, I've never been a morning person. I have always wanted to be one, make plans to be one, used to feel guilty because I just wasn't one. Living in a sleep deprived state does not help matters much. Just because I am awake doesn't mean I am "awake" a.k.a. "productive". As long as I'm in my pjs, I am probably just doing the bare necessities of flitting around the kitchen to fetch assorted breakfast items and trying to get the littlest boy down for a morning nap a.k.a the 20-40 minutes I could spend putting myself together but probably wont on most days)

There's a timeline for not getting dressed and it looks something like this:

8 am

Me: I am all comfy and warm, plenty of people do breakfast in pjs, Ill just ease into the day...

Kids: I'm hungry!/thirsty!/lonely/tired/bored/need you to listen to my dream I had last night about flying over the edge of the water slide at Kings Island

The baby is crying!! Mom, I think he is hungry tired wet dirty gassy and wants to be carried everywhere while you do things with one hand *maybe* he will take a nap

Will you make pancakes!?

9 am

Me: I could get dressed now but wait there's no clean clothes or towels or time to shower or pick out a top AND a bottom. I should really start some laundry...

MOM!!!!! Come fix the tv/find my toy/watch me go to the bathroom/help me reach this or that
The bathroom floor is wet!
I cant find my toothbrush'
Watch this!!!! Mom watch! Mom watch!
Can I have cookies for breakfast?
The baby's crying! see above for analysis

10 am: ughhh nothing I have fits. I can't nurse/bend over/ sit comfortably/clean the toilet/ be 31 and wear this... maybe I should just wear sweatpants/yoga pants/tights with a long tshirt/flannel/sweatshirt. Why am I changing again? That's essentially what I'm already wearing

"Mom, can you help me with pre-algebra?"
"Joel's crying!!"
"Jayda / Jaren hurt me/said something mean/made a face/breathed in my general direction!!!"
"I spilled something!!!!!!!!!"
"I need _____" fill in the blank with any possible word that may or may not make sense within the context

11 am: Am I going to leave the house today? Have I been puked on, peed on, or was this shirt used as a napkin yet? If so, how many times? Just once or twice? under five times? Maybe its not that bad...

I'm hungry! Lets make pancakes!!
"I need _______."
"Can we go to the library/museum/store/park/cousins house/anywhere but here???"
"Joels crying!"
"When will dad be home?"
"Why are you so stressed??"
"Can I listen to Itunes?"
"I dont feel good Mommy"
"Can I be a shark for Halloween?"
"Can I be a shark now? Lets just make a shark costume NOW!!"

Noon:
Ok its lunch time if I change now the aforementioned will probably just happen, I may as well just wait. and I can  probably wait until tonight to run whatever errand I am attempting to do with kids because I can't even get dressed so why venture out in public? I'll just put on sweatpants/yoga pants/tights with a long tshirt/flannel/sweatshirt. Oh shoot, forgot to start laundry... start back at 9 am

You get the point.

Hopefully those of you at home all day experience the same. ((Please say you do!))

Now the fact that we are at junction in seasons it becomes even more complicated. I was pregnant last fall and didn't buy any new non maternity clothes, the clothes from the winter season prior to that still. don't. quite. fit. *deep breath*  and they may not ever fit again.

That's ok, its worth it. It's all worth it, That's what we moms say when we feel a little guilty for complaining or even just being real. But it's true, its true, its true. We may even say that to remind ourselves.

The long days where we don't/can't get dressed.

The long nights of interrupted sleep that end in early mornings.

The conversations in the grocery store parking lot that seem like merry go rounds as we try to understand each other.

The 11 hour waits in the emergency room.

The rounds of stomach bugs and loads of laundry that go along with it.

The delayed blog posts or meals or conversations or dreams.

I tend to forget our family is our training ground for out there. Inside our walls is a place where it is safe to be yourself, to explore new ideas, to fail, to fight, to be passionate, to be at rest.  I forget that I am creating this safe haven every time I go through the motions of another day. I forget I am planting seeds that will sprout into character and laying the foundations that will hold their values in place long after they move out. I forget that I am creating a space and a refuge that they will always come back to.

Then there are good days, Days where we laugh and play and hike in the woods. Days where we are all healthy and rested and getting along and living out what we know to be important. There are days when it just works, I haven't yet figured out a formula to make one of these days happen yet. They seem to come right when we need them, right when we are on the brink of giving up. These are the days that make us say "it's all worth it."

Happy Anniversary to Us

It’s been pretty quiet around here lately (by here I mean my blog and definitely not my house). I miss writing and free time of any sort and sleeping. Oh how I miss sleeping.

With no sleep comes that foggy mind that makes you drive off without unloading all the groceries out of your cart and swear you slipped your credit card into your bag but it actually went on the sidewalk (truth be told I never found it). It makes you schedule doctor appointments on birthdays because you have no idea what today even is. It makes you burn dinner and wash library books in the washer. I swear, all my domestic skills have vanished.

No sleep also makes blogging near impossible. Besides the fact that I have no time, I keep losing my train of thought. Before you suggest a pick me up, caffeine makes my little bundle cranky. In fact this post has been pieced together from different entries on my phones notepad that I jot in while Joel nurses. Because that’s about all that gets done around here. Baby growing business is no joke. And apparently if I do find a rare moment to sit down and type it seems I have forgotten how because I keep deleting whole paragraphs on accident by highlighting them with the touchpad mouse. Thank God for the undo button. Where was I going with that?… oh yeah, sleep. I need some.

I did manage to eek out some prose for my home made anniversary card but never actually penned it, so I’m posting it here because I FINALLY WROTE SOMETHING THAT MAKES SENSE. Not to mention, we have been married for 9 years and this last year felt so good to get through together. Also, 9 is almost 10 and that feels special. Now that you have all that lovely background, here it goes:

Time is flying, each year goes by quicker than the last. With each season we pass through our relationship changes shape. Just like our kids, it neither looks like just you or just me but is a beautiful mix of each one of us. I tried to backtrack through our time together and remember some significant event for each year but it all just ended up in one big jumbly blur that was in no particular order. So here’s a few highlights from our 9 years together:

We purchased a house and a car and a tiny dog too quickly. We probably got married too quickly too, but apparently that’s how we do things.

We moved to a different state. We got degrees and more degrees. We worked jobs we loved and some we didn’t.

We took vacations to the mountains and to the beach and to big cities and little ones. We’ve done amusement parks and hikes and boats and camping.

We discussed theology and doctrine and sermons and books. We led youth groups and community groups together. We have worshipped together. We have encouraged each other in our passions, in our art or cooking or writing or constructive arguing.

We have shared dreams of writing a book, planting a church, starting a non profit, opening a restaurant/coffee shop/fire brick oven pizza joint.

We came to love each other’s families and made friends with each other’s friends.

We more than halfway raised a tiny woman, who is just. like. me. (sorry you have put up with me double-time) and are working on two tiny men who I’ll be proud if they turn out just like you.

We moved back home.

We moved to a different state. And one more time, we moved.

We survived a difficult pregnancy, which included losing a job and bedrest and a hospital stay.

But all of these things, jobs, babies, moving, travels, school, church, dreams, these aren’t us.

When you pare all of that down, we are just two kids.

Two kids who had many a late night conversation and felt a common bond.

Two kids who made a leap of faith and a vow of commitment that they knew they wouldn’t be able to keep in their own strength.

Two kids who were a little unsure of themselves but believed in a Love bigger than that.

That Love is what makes us “us.” To find this in our lifetime makes us lucky, blessed, maybe even a little crazy. But that’s ok, that’s who we are and I love it all. No matter what our life looks like on the outside that will never change.

Here’s to year 9, onward to 10 and many, many more.

I wasn't going to post this. ( I say that about every other post!) A bit too personal maybe. However, writing this brought such a sense of gratitude for my marriage. Reminiscing can do that. Give it a try. It doesn't have to be poetic, just your story. It's ok if it's not your anniversary or you haven't had any sleep.  Let your partner know how much it means to experience life with them and maybe they will take over for a couple hours so you can nap. (thanks sweetie;)

Happy Sunday,

Jenna

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