A Teacher's Fate

Associated Press 

photo taken in St. George, Utah- April 2011

"I think these turned out okay, honey", she says as she closely inspects a dish from the dishwasher, putting it away. Conscientious homemaker? Maybe. These days the dishes need a closer look since they're washed without dishwasher detergent. "I just put the dishwasher on the sanitize anti-bacterial setting and hope for the best!" says Jessie Tanner, 30 of North Carolina. They've recently hit a rough patch, but nothing they haven't seen before. "Well, we're on our last 2 rolls of toilet paper, we don't have any dishwasher detergent, I think we might have one more load of laundry soap, and I've got about 25 baby wipes left.What else? Yesterday the last cup of milk we had froze so I poured ice chips over my cereal and waited for it to melt a little. Oh, and we used our last pocket change to buy a small bag of cat litter, cause you can't really get by without that!"

What has landed the Tanners in this financial blight? Are they among the 9% of unemployed Americans in this country? Hardly. Timm Tanner, 32, has worked at least 2 jobs for the last 10 years. One of which used to be a high school teacher, and not just any teacher but 'Teacher of the Year'. A very talented teacher, one that has been recognized by his students, his peers, and his superiors. So what happened? When the Tanners moved to North Carolina 4 years ago they knew what they were in for. Teacher's salary schedules are public information, and shows you your entire career in a table projecting the next 30 years. There are no secrets, and the future doesn't look exceptionally bright for teachers in America. Worse still if there is a salary freeze, which has been in effect since Timm's first year teaching. At year 4 he is still making the same salary he did when he started, with no end in sight. There is no telling when the freeze will be lifted, and he will never resume the same year's salary that he is entitled based on the schedule he was hired on. The Tanners have one car, their two daughters Bella, 6, and Fiona, 2, qualify for Medicaid and Jessie hasn't had health coverage in 4 years. At times they've even qualified for food stamps, though they haven't used them since moving to North Carolina, despite Timm working as many as 17 hours a day. Such is the plight of teachers in America. Even for 'Teachers of the Year'.

"I told her just to enjoy this last time we'll have to go through this. Right now we have less than a dollar in our bank account, our credit cards are overdrawn and our gas tank is on empty. But this is the last time!" explains Timm. "I just took a job with Carolina's Healthcare and start next week." Timm has left teaching high school and instead will be training physicians in technology applications- a major loss to public education, and doubtless a disappointment for his returning students in the fall. "I have to take care of my family, number one, and I can't continue to do that this way." Timm explains.

This isn't the first time a teacher has left education for (literally) greener pastures, and it won't be the last. There is little incentive for talented teachers to enter the teaching field, and even less for them to stay. Until this country changes it's priorities and pays teachers a salary commensurate with their worth and their abilities, it will continue to happen in increasing numbers. Timm's new job is a perfect example. With Carolina's Healthcare, he will start at a salary 50% more than his two jobs combined, working one job with hours that will leave him with time for his family, and the money to take care of them. 

"We're really excited to move onto this next phase in our lives. And to go grocery shopping!" Jessie exults.

*No details in this article have been exaggerated 

This Girl

Sigh.

2 weeks ago this girl was almost 100% cute.

Just last week she was cracking me up and melting my heart by calling out "Heavenly Father loves me, mom! Heavenly Father loves me, mom!" when she woke up in the morning and from her nap. Yelling, at the top of her lungs.

This week, she is choosing to act the 2-year old part very well. To the fullest. A fully fleshed out 2-year old character.

She's always been quite a character, a lot pf personality. She's always been stubborn and opinionated. But now, she is in full force. She wants to do everything by herself, her way, on her terms. She does not take kindly to any suggestion, request or compromise.

Tantrums and timeouts abound.

It's no accident that parenthood is an essential part of our development, purpose, and exaltation. There are so many lessons that cannot be learned any other way. There is no other relationship that can approximate the parent-child relationship, and I say this all from my vast 6 years of experience as a mother. But seriously, in only 6 years I have learned (or more likely just begun to learn) lessons and character traits and patience that I couldn't have learned in any other way. Parenthood is a crash course in many things including selflessness and compromises and it is not for the faint of heart. So naturally, I daily feel that I am not up to the task and there must be some mistake in allowing me to be responsible for the raising of these children.

Fiona is putting me through the ringer right now. It is making me examine every request and directive that comes out of my mouth and constant assessment of my priorities and what is really important. I am choosing my battles, as they say. The problem is, I am stubborn like a 2-year old myself. I want to fight all the battles. I want everything to be important to me. I want to take stand on every issue, to teach a lesson, a value, a skill, to make a point. Unfortunately that is all more than counterproductive with Fiona, it is damaging and threatens our sanity. I am having to let a lot of things go, relinquish control, disregard what others might think and take a lot, a lot of deep breaths.Basically, I am having to overcome all of my natural inclinations. 

Is it nap time yet?

(That is, until she finally learns to climb out of her crib. Say a little prayer for me.)

Flux

For me, one of the hardest parts of motherhood is the constantly changing and evolving schedules of my children, depending on their age and stage at the time. The flexibility required to continually adapt and adjust my priorities, my time tables and my days.
For instance, I generally use Fiona's morning nap to get any cleaning that needs to be done, allowing me the afternoon nap to rest and recuperate, all to myself. I need that small does of alone time in my day to get me through the rest of it with some sanity intact. I've been working on my Home Management Notebook lately and have gotten my schedule pretty well arranged. (Providing I actually stick to my various schedules, of course.) And now? Fiona has not been taking morning naps. This makes it difficult, if not impossible to get any cleaning done, let alone get ready for the day. Augh. I struggle with productivity and motivation enough without having constant wrenches thrown into things. I know there is a solution to this, it will just take some reexamination and retooling, not to mention sacrifice of 'my' time. It just frustrates me to never have a constant- except change!
I'm afraid I'm also going to have to start getting up earlier. Which probably also means going to bed earlier.
AUgh!!

Beat that, Eva!

Just kidding. But Bella's self-adornment makes Eva's look like pure style. I could barely tell that Eva dressed herself in that photo, but maybe I'm just used to our more colorful (and layered) displays.

She's not a complete freak however- the bike helmet was worn for actual bike riding and not general injury prevention al a Mike Myers on the playground in his SNL days.

I Can't Resist

Is it just the natural course of events that Fiona be doted on as the 'baby' of the family? Is that dependent on her being our probable last child? Is her future one of spoiling, leniency, dotage, and accommodation- Or is she simply a baby, beautiful and charming that holds my heart like each of my children?

Whatever the case, I love these giggles and growls and want to remember them.

Meh.

So many thoughts, musings, interests, passions, goals...Not enough time to document them all. Where does all the time go lately? I think that I underestimate the amount of time that having a baby tacks on to everything. I can account for some of my time, evidenced by my clean baseboards, doors, blinds, edges, corners. The huge load of stuff to go to Goodwill tomorrow. The 5 birthdays this month. The many, many trips to the grocery store lately. Increased cooking. Decreased internet time. The folded clothes. The ironing basket, empty. An organized junk drawer.
Soon, soon I will collect my thoughts. Hopefully create something.

Imminent

Tomorrow I will do a full post on Fiona's 6 month stats, but for now, a cute little glimpse of her crawling progress:

It is clearly imminent, any day now.

This Time Around

Anyone who knew me pre-Fiona knows that I was essentially dreading having another baby. That sounds horrible, but it's just that I'm a little bit neurotic. Maybe more than a little. Having Bella was such an adjustment for me, motherhood was such an adjustment, and I don't typically deal well with stress, change, chaos...The thought of adding another child to the fray was overwhelming at best. However I felt so prompted to get pregnant with her I knew it was time, I knew it was right. I was just taking it on faith that it was the right thing to do, that it would work out, that i would be made equal to the task.
Flash forward- Fiona's nearing 6 months, and this time around is so different. If you can believe it I am much less stressed, anxiety-ridden, volatile, and neurotic than I used to be. Part of it is a solid, concerted effort, some of it is a blessing, and some of it is the consequence of learning from and adapting to motherhood. In the last 5 years, having children has taught me more than I expected and stretched me in ways I never would have otherwise. At times it is a challenge, in fact many times it is a challenge and I resent the necessity if the stretch. If I didn't have children I'm sure I wouldn't be the person I am now, and I would be worse for it.
One of the benefits of that stretch is that this time around with Fi is a lot more enjoyable than it was with Bella. Don't get me wrong- of course I loved Bella just as much as I love Fiona, of course it was as rewarding- it's just that it was tempered with more anxiety, stress, and questions. So why so relaxed this time? Partly it is experience. I know that things will be okay. I know that the difficult parts are just a stage. I know that they pass quickly and leave us no worse for the wear. I also know that these sweet baby months are fleeting and precious.It is also due to the belief that Fi is most likely my last child. I always hold in the back of my mind thoughts like, 'this is the last time I'll do...', or 'after this I'll never get to...'. I am savoring the time with her and because of this I am more able to enjoy Fiona's babyhood.
This time I can appreciate it as fun, endearing, cute and finite. I actually think having a baby is fun instead of love riddled with guilt, fear, inadequacy and stress. Of course those feelings still occupy a place in my mind, but they are largely over-ridden with enjoyment. I don't stress the small stuff like her naps, her schedule...I find myself 'spoiling' her already-the natural destiny for the 'baby' of the family? I often nurse her to sleep, rock her to sleep, comfort her at the breast, and hold her when she wants me to. For better or for worse I am not so concerned with things like 'teaching her to fall asleep on her own'. I figure she's a baby for such a short while and she can hone that skill later. Things are working for us, so I continue to cuddle her all I can.

Of course my babies make it easy for me. Fi follows in Bella's tiny footsteps by being a joy- a largely happy, steady, and charming girl. She gives me so many moments to enjoy her and relish the moment that will be only a memory all too soon. Too soon she will talk, whine, beg, throw tantrums, and inadvertently say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Bella's stage is wonderful in it's own way, but there's time for that later. For now Fi is my baby, probably my last baby and I'm going to hold her for all it's worth.

TMI: Self-Indulgent Musings...

This is after all, my blog, my journal, and if you can't be self-indulgent in that forum, where can you? I suppose that is the very definition of a journal come to think of it...
What's with me? I'm feeling stuck.
This all seems so familiar somehow- Perhaps something I felt approximately 1,277 days ago, or when Bella was about the same age as Fiona is right now. When Bella was born, I was so afraid of post-partum depression. Considering the rigorous battle depression gives me on a regular basis, the addition of post-baby hormones and the stresses of new motherhood seemed an ominous combination. I was pleasantly surprised when I seemed to handle it better than I expected or thought capable. For a couple of months anyway. No that it was easy, not that I felt like I adjusted particularly well or adeptly, but still better than I thought I would. Then after a few months my progress seemed to slow, things started to pile up around the house, my to-do list remained stagnant, my patience grew thin, perhaps I gained a few pounds, and I left the house less and less. A familiar routine for me since all of these are common symptoms of depression. Why? What happened? I was doing so well, and then suddenly... I wasn't. Well the same seems to have happened this go 'round. Fi is 4 months old and my house is a disaster, laundry is in several piles around the house and hasn't actually been folded and put away in a couple of weeks. I went to my first Weight Watchers meeting last Friday but have yet to actually commit myself to it since I didn't plan accordingly. I have yet to assume making regular dinners for my family, resume a regular cleaning routine, maintain any sort of regular routine for that matter. Dishes are piled around the kitchen, my grocery shopping still on the kitchen table, my laundry spread around the living room with the ironing board hopefully set up. My bed is unmade, my coupons not completely clipped or organized. I am participating in a yard sale with some friends this weekend and have yet to even begin assembling or readying my goods. And yet with all this piled up around me, here I sit watching American Idol, blogging, waiting for Timm to come home from work with a milkshake for me.
Why now? Why do I feel like I'm giving up now after 4 months of comparable success? It starts to accumulate in my consciousness making me think along the lines of: 'What am I good at? What am I good for? Why am I the way I am? Why is everyone in my life better than me, deserve better than me? Why does anyone like me? Why can't I do anything? Why can't I sustain anything or any achievement? Why am I so much less than everyone else? Why am I so much less capable than others? What redeeming qualities do I even have? How does anyone put up with me? Why can't I get it together? When will I? Will I?
What is the point of me?
Hmm.

Note to Self:

Do not plan to do ANYthing between the hours of 7 and 11 pm. Unless those plans are to endlessly pace the floor, rock, pat, shush, sing, sway, change positions, nurse, practice 'Serenity Now' and becoming zen-inevitably giving in to the roar of white noise that is incessant screaming. No reading, no watching tv (if you want to follow it whatsoever), no cleaning, no talking, nothing productive and nothing enjoyable. After 11 pm. you may ready yourself for bed as quickly as possible, hope Fiona will sleep in the nursery and dive into bed, hoping for a possible 2 hours of uninterrupted sleep.
We're 1 hour in for tonight. 2-3 more to go.

Life with Reflux (a mother's perspective).

I've already detailed the horrors of nighttime reflux-induced colic, but here's an account of the rest of the side effects it causes. Sometimes she seems absolutely fine, other times she seems to suffer every textbook side effect of the disease. (Except for poor weight gain- for some reason she's go that down like a champ.)

Reflux babies must be fed on demand- no schedules allowed. That's fine by me since that's how I tend to feed anyway, except that because of the refulx, she needs to eat every 2 hours- sometimes sooner. During the day it is not uncommon for her to need to eat every hour and a half. There are two reasons for this frequent feeding: 1- they cannot or should not consume very much at each feeding. The amount they eat increases the likelihood of and the side effects themselves- namely spitting up and acid. 2- Feeding is a painful experience, and as they are reclined the acid comes up into their throats, burning as they try to eat. Swallowing is painful as well.
Besides being painful, feeding can be an extremely frustrating experience. She starts to feed ravenously and then pulls off either because she is choking, or because it is burning her throat. She pulls off in frustration, cries, realizes how hungry she is, attempts to feed again, repeat ad naseum. Eventually she gets so mad she is frantically searching but refuses to eat. In pain and hungry, we usually abandon that attempt and try again in a little while. Another reason for frequent feeding.
Of course there is the spitting up, but that has been significantly reduced by the Zantac she is on. Of course, she still 'ruins' my shirt several times a day and we can never be without a burp cloth when feeding. She no longer resists the incredibly vile Zantac which is a potent menthol suspended in alcohol. I tried it- it is truly heinous.
Sleeping is also difficult for the reflux baby, as laying down brings the acid up as well. They tend to sleep better on their stomachs, and it is sometimes recommended for severe cases of reflux. We alternate, depending on how she does and how much I need her to sleep. We still eat every 2-3 hours through the night. Sigh. At least she is mostly sleeping in her crib now! I wedge her in between the bumper pads and a boppy, so she feels secure. When she is particularly fussy she sleeps in bed with us, cradled in my arm so we can all get some much-needed sleep.
Another unfortunate side effect is congestion and wheezing. She has been really congested for about 4 or 5 weeks now. Constantly. We are frequently using the nasal aspirator to clear that out as much as possible. This also causing a lot of wheezing and the occasional cough.
Perhaps the worst symptom is gassiness- she is literally constantly gassy. Her stomach is hard and tight as she writhes around seeking relief, alternately pulling her legs p and flailing them about. I am frequently stretching and manipulating her legs, trying to help her. Even when she can pass gas, there seems to be little relief, as thre is always more that we cannot relieve.
So as you can probably tell, there is a lot of discomfort, pain, and frustration for everyone involved. Luckily she is usually at her worst when Bella is already in bed, so Bella doesn't have to stand by and hear the crying for hours, and I don't have to completely neglect her in order to fruitlessly try and soothe Fiona. Last night Fi started losing it right at Bella's bedtime which is a frequent occurrence. Timm was at work, so I had to put Bella down while trying to quiet Fi. The result is me rushing through the story and bedtime routine so I can get out of there and direct my full attention to the screamer. I'm glad that Bella's routine and attention is not any more disrupted than it is.
What I want to know is, why is colic worst at night? What difference does it make? Why do we have some days that go off without a hitch, and still more like alst night? What variables are there? None that I can tell.
I took her to an Ear, Nose and Throat (EMT) on Friday morning to rule out anatomical problems since her choking can be so severe. He scoped her and found nothing wrong there (her throat), but ordered us to go to the children's hospital on Monday morning to take some fils of her to chest. We need to rule out that there could be an anatomical problem causing her to aspirate into her lungs. Once that is clear, and I'm sure it will be, I will be referred to a pediatric Gastroenterologist (GI) who will diagnose reflux based on all of her symptoms. The only treatment we can really change is this case is to prescribe her a more proactive Prilosec instead of the mild Zantac. Colic sometimes improves at 3 or 4 months, but the cause and effects of reflux itself doesn't totally dissipate until their first year.
Oh deem, oh dee.
It's a good thing that I am experiencing this now because I have a better perspective after having Belle. I know that this time really is fleeting, just a stage, and i can only do my best. I am significantly calmer than I ever would have imagined, mostly because I have decided to be. She will scream no matter what, so I decide to be calm and collected. Why add to the misery by getting upset? I've yet to come to tears through through it all. We'll just keep on truckin'.
Incidentally I feel deliriously tired and keep nodding off while I am typing, resulting in almost intelligible writing. My fingers are not finding the proper keys or putting them in the right ordure of that matter so i better try and rest. Ha!
*edited to add* It is several hours later and I reread this post since I couldn't quite remember writing the whole thing, due to falling asleep during the process. I laughed my way through it, counting 16 blatant typos and leaving them all in place as evidence of my state of mind. You may find more...

Evidence

Just in case anyone thinks I am exaggerating or being dramatic about the issue of 'colic' and reflux around here, I submit this evidence.
If you are prone to migraines or hypertension, do NOT watch this video.

That was 15 seconds of what can amount to 3 hours of screaming and crying. Tonight she stopped about 30 minutes ago after 3 1/2 hours of intermittent crying, where there was more of that than there was of peace.
I tried to make cookies to stuff my frustration and stress, but only got so far. I abandoned it after 10 minutes. The amount of time that she stayed asleep in her crib when I transferred her from my arms. I left it all in the kitchen.
My bed, unmade for the last 2 days.
A project I undertook, organizing and storing my maternity clothes and cleaning out my drawers. A relatively simple project I started yesterday. Silly me.
My stack of books from the library awaiting my attention.
The one I am currently trying to get through in the very few minutes a day I can actually read.
Colic self-portrait.
Trying to deal.
And this is me, in all my glory. Lounge clothes with multiple large spit-up spots. Actually my second spit-up covered cleaning shirt of the day. Yesterday's makeup-smeared mascara and eyeliner. Zits dotting my entire face, no doubt from a combination of stress and a deluge of sugar and other large quantities of junk. My teeth aren't even brushed.
While it's true that the screaming is usually only at night, my days are often darkened by the shadow of the previous night's episode. Last night was another particularly bad 'sode, and today I was tired, lounged, and tried to recoup. Thus, my house in in disrepair, I am in... a sad and sorry physical state, and I miss my husband as more than a sounding board and an occasional relief from the screaming baby. I am actually dealing quite well and am very proud of myself on my emotional fortitude, but I still don't know how much more of this I can take. Right now she is mercifully asleep in her crib, (going on 20 minutes!!) and I am trying to steel myself for-at best, wakings at every 2 hours, and at worst, sleeping with her in my arms. Or maybe it's the other way around. I don't know anymore.
How on earth am I hosting my family's stay for Thanksgiving in 3 days? What the?
Help me. I am dead inside.
(that last part was supposed to convey a dry but humorous declaration of my mental state, but Timm said it read more like 'I am going to go kill myself.' So- it's not suicidal. It's dry humor at the expense of my sanity.)

Fiona at 2 Months

Fiona is 2 months old today. We had a doctor's appointment today to try and find a way to manage her 'colic', and she weighed in at 11 pounds 1 ounce. She's gaining at more than an ounce a day, and that puts her in the 60th percentile. So different from Bella's growth that had her off the charts, finally beginning to climb back on in the 2nd percentile. Besides her problems with 'colic' (to be further discussed later-) she is perfectly well and happy. About a week ago she started rolling over from her back to tummy several times, which seems pretty early. She;s more and more alert, although fortunately she still sleeps a significant portion of the day. Because of the reflux she still eats every 2 hours, and about every 3 or 4 at night. 4 hours is kind of a stretch.
She is a snugly little girl. I love to hold her while she nestles into me, finding ultimate maternal comfort. I try to take advantage of this fleeting time of infancy and her willingness to cuddle with me while it lasts. We finally brought out the swing and despite it's hideousness, works wonders for her calming and my productivity. She still sleeps in her bouncer next to our bed, when she;s not sleeping in our bed! The inclination of the bouncer is good for her reflux, so she probably won't be sleeping in her crib for a couple few months yet... Lately with her discomfort she is only comfortable sleeping cradled in my arm in bed with me. This is not my favorite situation, but my sleep is important to me, so I sacrifice a little bit of comfort for a night's, albeit disturbed, sleep. Hopefully once we get this colic/reflux/discomfort under control we can wean her away from us. In a little while she'll be old enough to sleep through the night so we can let her cry for a night, hopefully doing the trick to getting her to sleep on her own in her crib. That worked with Bella, anyway...
She still has a sweet demeanor, and her diminishing episodes of crying are clearly from pain and not personality. She is starting to make more and more little baby noises besides cries and wails, and I can't wait until she starts to 'talk'.
I devise many inane songs devoted to 'Little Fi.' She's still referred to as 'Fi Fi Kate', 'Little Fi', or 'Fi Fiona Fi Fiona Kate' in song form. She is a great audience and seems to genuinely enjoy my drivel. For that she has my affection.
All in all, life with a baby is fun and full of cuteness. What other creature can cause you to coo over their every bodily function, utterance and facial expression? Loving life with our newest addition and our family feeling in it's completion, at least if just for now.
Pictures to follow...

Portrait of Young Motherhood

Too many days, this is what I look like- no makeup, no hair done, in lounge clothes, nestled on the couch with these 2.
Yesterday I'm trying to talk to Michelle on the phone and nurse Fiona at the same time. It takes both hands to nurse Fiona to try and help regulate the flow, so I've literally got my hands full. Then Bella calls for me from the bathroom exclaiming that she needs help wiping. Augh. So I pull Fiona off, walk gingerly to the bathroom with the phone perched on my shoulder where Bella says that she's pooped and needs help wiping. Augh. So with phone perched on my shoulder, Fiona cradled in one arm, I use the other to reach down and help her wipe. While she is still pooping. Gross. As I pull my hand back in good-natured disgust, Fiona pukes all over my other arm and onto the floor. It's not pretty, but I can't help but laugh at the picture of young motherhood displayed in my bathroom.

Updates

Well, on the Fiona/colic front, things are kind of grim. The last two nights have included 3 hours of inconsolable, continuous screaming and crying. She is in such obvious pain and discomfort and writhes and flails without relief. I try Milicon, Gripe Water, and Zantac. Holding her on my shoulder, across my lap, in the football hold, on my knee. Rocking, swaying, bouncing,walking. Inside, outside. In my arms, the swing, the bouncer. Bottle, breast. Light, dark. Quiet, white noise, tv. Burping, farting, spitting up. We've done and tried it all. To no avail.

It is frustrating, maddening, and sad. I can't fault her for it, and although it drives me to the brink of tears and insanity, I am still sorrier for her than me. I turns out, dairy is in everything. Everything worth eating anyway. I was seeing big improvements even though milk proteins stay in your body for up to 2 weeks. Then 2 days ago I had a McDonald's ice cream cone. Over the years I have had numerous unverified sources tell me that they were non-dairy. It sounds asinine, I know, but how could so many unrelated people be wrong about such a little thing? Well they are. My first tip off was her extreme reaction of screaming and crying in severe pain for 3 hours. It was sudden, abrupt, and 4-6 hours after I ate the ice cream. I did a little research online, and it turns out the cone is just plain old reduced-fat vanilla ice cream. (Sorry, dad.) The next night gave a similar reaction, if a little less severe. The last two nights she has slept cradled in my arm, in bed with us. Today she has been fairly fussy all day, needing to be held and fed often, repeating all the aforementioned techniques. I feel like I've taken a huge backslide on the productivity scale, as in the newborn sleep-deprived walking zombie stage. I'm either busy trying to console and soothe all hours of the day and night, or exhausted from doing so. This definitely has a bit of the depression starting to close in on me. I am isolated, tired, an ineffective parent and covered in milk and spit-up. Once again I know it is a phase, but one that threatens to last at least another 1-2 months if it follows the typical colic pattern, as it has thus far. I can't believe I once said that I thought colic was merely an indication of personality... not so. My sweet baby girl is transformed into a screaming, writhing creature of pain, incapable of relief while I impotently try to console her. I'm making a Dr's appointment next week, continue to dose her with 3 different supplements and medication, and imposing stricter limitations on my own diet.
Bella updates to come...

Colic

We have it.
Or maybe I should say "colic", since the word is very loosely thrown around.
About 3 weeks ago Fiona started acting fussy, albeit not very fussy, but a definite change in personality for her nonetheless. My first instinct was that it was due to more milk in my diet, since I could logically link the two and the timing fit. With Bella I didn't change a thing about my diet except to eliminate caffeine, and I naively assumed I would have the same good fortune this time. She got very,very gassy, a hard and tight abdomen, spitting up, etc. Then as it persisted I came to the conclusion that it was reflux as she exhibits every symptom. Bella had reflux, but only suffered the profuse spitting up and none of the discomfort. I went to the family doctor, he agreed it sounded like reflux and prescribed Zantac. I was happy if only because it meant I didn't have to deprive myself of any delicious dairy products, and hopefully her discomfort would soon be alleviated. Now I'm not so sure. With the wonders of the internet I found that 2 other 'conditions' seem to aptly describe this as well. So I'm looking at reflux (or GERD), an intolerance to dairy products, or overactive letdown reflex. Hmm. Let's review.

Overactive Letdown Reflex

A baby who gets too much milk too quickly, may become very fussy, very irritable at the breast and may be considered "colicky". Typically, the baby is gaining very well. Typically, also, the baby starts nursing, and after a few seconds or minutes, starts to cough, choke or struggle at the breast. He may come off, and often, the mother's milk will spray. After this, the baby frequently returns to the breast, but may be fussy and repeat the performance. He may be unhappy with the rapid flow, and impatient when the flow slows. This can be a very trying time for everyone. On rare occasions, a baby may even start refusing to take the breast after several weeks, typically around three months of age.

Summary:

Gets milk too quickly: check.

Very irritable at the breast: check.

Coughing, choking, struggling: check.

Because of all of the struggling, it usually results in gulping and swallowing air, resulting in the gassiness and fussiness. Another thing to consider is that she eats better from a bottle, which would seem to support the overactive letdown reflex.

Foreign Proteins in the mother's milk

It has been shown that some proteins present in the mother's diet may be excreted into her milk and may affect the baby. It would seem that the most common of these is cow's milk protein. Other proteins have also been shown to be excreted into some mothers' milk. The fact that these proteins and other substances appear in the mother's milk is not necessarily a bad thing. Indeed, it is good.

Thus, in the treatment of the colicky breastfed baby, one step would be for the mother to stop taking dairy products. These includes milk, cheese, yogurt, ice cream and anything else which may contain milk. When the milk protein has been changed (denatured), as in cooking for example, there should be no problem.

Breastfed babies who are sensitive to dairy in mom's diet are sensitive to specific cow's milk antibodies, in the form of proteins (not lactose), which pass into the mother's milk. Cow's milk (either in the mother's diet or engineered into formula) is a common source of food sensitivity in babies. Cow's milk sensitivity or allergy can cause colic-like symptoms, eczema, wheezing, vomiting, diarrhea (including bloody diarrhea), constipation, hives, and/or a stuffy, itchy nose.

Summary:

It can cause all of the same gastrointestinal discomfort, causing the 'colicky' behavior. Other symptoms I have read about include a rash,congestion and mucus, all of which she has.

So...the symptoms fit for 3 different conditions. Since I have a hunch about the dairy I am first trying to eliminate it from my diet. Oh dee. I'm on day 2. I'm also going to include chocolate in my abstinence because I'm worried about that too. Double dee.

My primary concern is for her comfort, because she is obviously in pain, but I cannot deny how frustrating it is to deal with a colicky baby. 24/7. It is not confined to nighttime fussiness, although it seems at it's peak then. Last night I only slept when I took her into bed with us. Today she was only happy while being held. It is not seeming to lift either...

Not helping the situation is that with my hands constantly unavailable, nothing is getting done around here. Since I'm also potty training (yay!) I haven't left the house in 3 days. I haven't gotten ready in 3 days. I have no social outlet or break from the girls. When Timm gets home, he is great to help as much as possible, but that still leaves me with the entire day, all night long while everyone else is asleep, and much of the evening. The house is a mess, laundry is all over the house, I haven't eaten real food in days, I smell like sour milk... As of tonight I am officially frustrated. My inability to be productive while being cooped up in the house that is in disarray due to my non-productivity is getting me down. When will I be able to get anything done? When will my house be comfortably clean again? When will I get a full night's rest? When will she stop crying and be happy and healthy again?

This doesn't paint the clearest picture, because I have actually been feeling very good since Fiona's birth. I am adjusting much better than I thought I was capable of and have been very proud of my state of mind and stress management. That is all a post I have been meaning to articulate for some time, and still will. But right now, I'm repeating "It's only a phase.... an indefinite phase, but a phase all the same."

Hormonal Imbalance

What's with hormones, anyway? Why do they have to- Okay, I have to stop myself already.
First I must explain that my hormones seem to have afflicted me with a post-partum onset of something akin to Turret's syndrome. Seriously. When I am frustrated I find myself searching for something to call out, and it's usually something obscene. Luckily I quell this inclination. It is especially difficult when I am nursing. I am still at that stage of nursing that hurts like the fiery pits of hell when Fiona first latches on. (Boy, she can latch. I tell her she's a natural. There's been no learning curve there.) For the first couple/few minutes I throw my head back as the f-word shouts loudly in my mind. To keep from yelling out I usually have to clench my teeth and emit something of a moan until the sting abates. This is accompanied with a thrashing of my feet as I try to distract myself from the pain. So you can see, from the inappropriate sporadic obscenities that I suppress under guttural moans, to the trashing and seizing of my feet and legs, I suffer from some sort of post-partum Turret's syndrome. It should be noted that under normal circumstances I am not inclined to obscenities, other than 'hell' and 'damn', which I have never considered to be obscene.
As is the case in many other circumstances, I feel the Lord has blessed me to spare me more than I can bear during this time. Since I struggle with depression under the best of circumstances, post-partum depression added on top of that seems like it would be the tipping point for me. Thus, I have never suffered with an excess of depression following the births of my children. I do however, feel the typical surge of hormones that comes with it. So far I have felt it bubbling up around me, softly and slowly. I don't know whether or not this is wise, but I have continually been suppressing that bubbling up to avoid giving it licence or control. Since I know it is fueled by hormones, and the influence of those hormones is finite, I am merely trying to wait it out. I figure if I ignore the nagging feelings long enough, the post- partum period will end and I can resume life as usual, trying to manage my usual feelings of depression and inadequacy.
Another thing that I hate about these hormonal disturbances is that I cannot describe the feelings they cause. Being accustomed to feelings of depression, I can usually articulate those feelings pretty well. These hormonal imbalances however, only leave me ill at ease and sensitive but unable to tell you why. The best way I can describe it is this: it is as though the plates of my life all shift a few degrees to the left so that they lay unsettled and out of place. Nothing fits where it used to, nothing is in the right place, everything is unsettled. I just don't feel like I fit anywhere. It's all wrong.That does not adequately describe the unease or sensitivity or inadequacy of these feelings, but it touches on it better than any other way I have found.
But like I said, I know that this part of my emotions is finite and not to be trusted so I have not yet allowed myself to give it heed. I am hoping it starts to pass soon so I don't have to expend so much energy pushing it under the surface. Likewise I hope that those around me and all I encounter continue to be kind and understanding towards me so as not to upset that delicate facade of peace until it restored in actuality, whenever that may be.

Study of Fiona

I love the myriad of expressions that newborns make in rapid succession. A week or so ago I snapped these one after another just to see what I would get. The whole thing took maybe 30 seconds. Love the results.

at ease.

challenging?

hey! that's bella's face!

disgusted.

rooting.

serious.

shifty-eyed.

precious smile, even if it is gas-induced.

just cute.

I Love...

the downy fine hair that still covers most of your body-especially your shoulders.

the sweet smell of baby I enjoy while your head rests on my shoulder.

your very long fingers and finger-toes.

your chicken legs that don't even have enough fat for rolls, but old-lady wrinkles instead.

the feather soft hair on your head that looks to be my color.

your limpling wet-noodle body that lops around.

the way your body conforms to mine, molding yourself to me.

the way you can go from wide-eyes to a narcoleptic state in the blink of an eye.

the tiniest bum on earth.

your raptor cry that you reserve for the utmost of agitation so that I rarely ever hear it.

the way you look from side to side all shifty-eyed as you take in the world.

your impossibly soft skin that feels like velvet.

that at 4 days old you could already roll to the side.

how your hands are almost always up by your head or face in various positions.

the way you smell after a bath.

watching the expressions flash across your face, your little features rearranging themselves.

how simple your needs are and the ease with which they are met.

that you made Bella a big sister.

that you complete our family... at least for the time being.

Pain Management

Fiona is here.

It takes a lot to bring these little persons into the world.

It's a good thing it's worth it.

Well, well worth it.

There will be many more updates to come, but tonight I will write only what I can manage for the time being. I will make a full accounting of the process and procedures leading up to and after her birth, but not tonight.
This birth, this C-section has been by far the hardest in just about every regard. I assumed it would be the easiest based on the fact that my second was easier than the first. I honestly don't remember very much about the physical aspect of my first C-Section, my memory being heavily weighted by the emotional trauma that overshadowed any other pain. With Bella, I remember going shopping and doing errands the day I left the hospital. I did my hair and makeup in the hospital, I was up and around. At home I was handicapped by the surgery- I moved more slowly, more gingerly and was limited in what I could do. I tried to take it easy, but every day tasks were by and large not impossible and I made progress every day. I could still change a diaper, get ready for the day and get up and around, even if I did need help getting dried off from the shower. In short, yes it was painful, yes it took time to recover, and it took some time before I was at my best. Or even on my way to my best.
In retrospect, I was way too cavalier about the whole process. I was a loud and enthusiastic advocate for C-sections, proclaiming their ease, practicality, and convenience. Not having any other experience to compare it to, 'sections' seemed the perfect way for me to birth a child. I had heard stories about the pains, hardships and complications of recovering from sections, I knew that many people feared them, but I was quite as ease with my surgical deliveries. I thought that either I had a much higher pain threshold than I would have thought and praised myself for my strength and fortitude, or more likely, that the Lord has blessed me with strength beyond my own to bear pains I would normally wither under.
This time is different. This time, it has occurred to me- 'Oh. So this is what they meant. This is what they meant.'
I regret the speed with which I was willing to discount the stories of women who had suffered more than I under the same conditions.
Details will follow, but for now it is suffice to say that I have changed my position on the procedure and that I have reformed from my casual and cavalier attitude about what is in fact, a serious, major, and potentially dangerous surgery.
Every day my vision is clouded by the pain I feel and my actions determined by the fastest way to alleviate whatever discomfort possible. In the worst pain I cannot see past it, tears streaming down my face, totally incapacitated. Last night as I prayed for comfort and deliverance I was reminded that i have in fact done this twice before. Even though this time presents considerable more challenges, I have already overcome them twice already- the pain, the emotional upheaval, the stress, the sleep deprivation, the doubts, the body-loathing...It was only a few short months before I looked and felt much better, had a handle on things. It will come again. The pain will decrease each day, and as it does I will be able to see more clearly and accomplish more.
Most of all, I remember that it is worth it and I am enormously grateful for the opportunity to be the vessel by which my beautiful daughters have been delivered.