Author Archives: Mandy

About Mandy

This blog is an honest look at life being a full time mom and wife, all while working a full time job. I am reaching out to help bridge the gap of loneliness that surrounds new mothers as we try to find others out there who have seen what we’ve seen, done what we’ve done, and want to share their experiences. In the business of baby-raising, every day has a story to be told.

Pool Disaster.

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I had been thinking for the past few weeks that it would be really great to take Ronan to the YMCA pool.  He loves to swim, and since it’s gotten colder, we haven’t been getting in the water. (Who am I kidding? We have barely swam despite living at the lake in MONTHS.)

Anyhow.  I called the Y and found out the first 3 swims at the pool are free.  I decided to pack up the kids and go while Brock stayed home.  Just as we were about to leave, Ruby started fussing and rubbing her eyes; instead of taking her, I left her with Brock who put her down for a nap.

Ronan and I got to the pool and changed into our suits.  He was very excited and kept saying, “Poo!  Poo!”  (Yeah, he meant pool.)  We swam around for a while when I realized that I had left our towels in the car.  It kind of put a damper on my level of fun – all I could think about was how cold we were going to be.  I started trying to stay mostly out of the water because I had nothing to dry off with.  Ronan had a life jacket on and is a very confident swimmer, so I let him float around the pool playing.

I was standing in the near side of the shallow pool, and Ronan was about 5 feet away from me.  He was floating on his back and swimming very well.  He turned and kicked his way to the far side of the pool where he started trying to climb out.  One of the lifeguards went over and pulled him out of the pool, took his hand, and walked him around to me.  I laughed and said, “Thanks.”  He looked pissed and said, “When he’s wearing a lifejacket, he has to be within arms reach.”

“Oh.  Sorry,” I replied.

I took his hand and lead him out of the pool feeling like a terrible parent, even though it was quite clear that Ronan was a very strong swimmer and had no trouble turning from front to back, and didn’t get upset when he submerged.  We walked into the changing room and started getting dressed.  I stripped Ronan quickly, dried him off with my sweater, and put on his underwear and pants.  He wasn’t dry enough to put a shirt on yet, so I turned and started pulling my pants on.  I heard his footsteps walk away and watched him as he walked into one of the bathroom stalls.  I reached down to put on my bra, and heard the door to the pool open.  Since Ronan was in the bathroom stall, I waited to hear someone enter the locker room.

I waited about 3 seconds before I thought, “Maybe Ronan ran out there.”  He wasn’t in the bathroom stall as I walked by.  I went out on to the pool deck and didn’t see him anywhere.  I turned and went back into the dressing room and yelled his name.  No answer.  Back out to the pool deck where I notice his little head barely above water half way to the deep end, and VERY much over his height.  He was holding on to the wall and pulling himself deeper and deeper.

As I ran towards him, I saw the lifeguards on the opposite side of the pool, pointing at him and yelling at him to stop, get out.

When I reached him, he looked up at me, smiled, and let go of the wall.  I grabbed his hand just as the top of his head sank below the water.  I yanked him out of the pool and yelled, “ARE YOU SERIOUS, RONAN?”

I made him walk to the car in his soaking wet clothes.  I had no towel, no extra change of clothes, and nothing to put on him.  He kept saying, “Cold.  Co-co-co-cold!”  to which I replied, “Yeah, I bet you wish you hadn’t jumped in the water with your clothes on, huh?”

When we got in the car, I wrapped him in the towel I had forgotten, buckled him into his car seat and began driving home.  It was dead silent.  No radio, no talking, no little boy babble from the back seat.

Finally, I said, very quietly, “Ronan… you could have drowned.  You could have died!… You could have gotten very, very hurt,” I was trying to find something to say to a two year old in a manner that he would understand.

A very quiet, very hesitant, “…kay,” made its way up from the back.

“Mama isn’t mad at you, Ronan.  Mama was very, very scared.  Mama yelled because she was scared.”

“… kay.”

“You can’t jump in the pool, buddy.  You can’t do that.  You just can’t.”  At this point, I was crying.  My adrenaline had started to wear off, and I was more upset than I realized.

“…sah-ee baba.”  (Sorry, mama.)

Cue sobbing.

All in the same moment, I felt like a terrible mother, and like everyone at the pool must be talking about us, and lucky that things didn’t turn out worse, and angry that the lifeguards had let him get so far into the pool, and like the luckiest mom in the world that I have such a sweet, serious, loving little boy.

The Cold, Hard Truth.

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I’m a liar.

I didn’t mean to be.  I thought I was telling the truth.  But I wasn’t – I lied.

And I’m not sorry.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words… these are worth millions.

Ruby and I have been breastfeeding.  Exclusively.  For nearly two weeks.

I don’t know what changed.  I don’t know why it happened.  I said I was done, and I meant it… until I tried again.  And something was different.  Perhaps I had given up the fear of failure.  Perhaps I was no longer hurting in my heart.  Perhaps Ruby just knew.  I don’t know why and it just started working.

Ruby and I took a 2 day nursing vacation.  We started giving her my milk in sippy-cups whenever I’m not here.  I pull her hands down gently when I need to.  I make every effort to nurse every single time that I can.  And it just keeps getting better.  Her latch keeps getting better.  Her patience keeps getting better.  She doesn’t pinch, she doesn’t pull back.  It. Doesn’t. Hurt.

I have been SO EXCITED to write this blog post.  I have been LOVING taking pictures to share.  I have been terrified that if I breathed a word, if I mentioned it, it would all fall to bits.  I wanted to wait until I’d worked enough shifts, until I’d successfully come home and nursed again enough times that I felt like I no longer needed to hold my breath.  I don’t know that we’re entirely past that point… but we’re getting there.  Every day we nurse, we’re getting there.

I want and need to thank every single person that has helped us on this journey.  Every cheerleader.  Every encourager.  Every supporter.  Each one of you helped me take it one day at a time, push for one more try, not give up in my saddest, darkest moments.  I couldn’t and wouldn’t have done it without you.

Thank you.  Thank you so, so very much.  Thank you for this.

 

Not Much.

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So, things are pretty good.

Not much change.  I’ve noticed that change is sort of like a growth spurt… you go a very long time with not much change, and then all of a sudden a bunch of things happen all at once.  Lately, we’ve been experiencing the ‘not much change’.

I’m still working midnight weekends and Wednesdays days.

Brock is still looking for work.

Ronan is still amazingly sweet, smart and funny.

Ruby is still wonderful.  (Let those things never change!)

About a month ago, I started a course to become an IBCLC – a lactation consultant.  The class is going excellent, although 5 hours is a long time to sit in a classroom.  I’ve met some really great ladies in the class, and am getting to work with some very well known and highly recognized members of the profession.  My instructor, Gretta Blythe, has been a lactation consultant for over 20 years.  She is incredible!  She wants to help Ruby and I.  More on that in the future.

I can’t wait for clinicals to begin.  I know that it’s going to be a lot more time away from my kids, but I’m excited to get out there and start helping women.  I’m excited to put some of my knowledge into practice.  I’m even excited to see how much I DON’T know.  I remember that feeling from Ultrasound clinicals… and I remember how wonderful it is to look back and feel like you actually know what you’re doing.

I really haven’t had the time or energy to take any pictures lately, which kind of breaks my heart.  I hate that, years from now, I will look back and wonder why there aren’t any picture of Ruby at 7 months old, why I don’t have any shots of Ronan or the two of them playing together.  That means it’s time to pick up the camera.

Ruby cut her first tooth on Thursday.  It’s still not sticking out much above the gum line, but the skin is definitely broken!  Not only that, I kind of love this picture to bits.

And there you have it.  A nice, tidy little update.  With not much change.

Oh Ronan.

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I have been so preoccupied with Ruby and breastfeeding that I haven’t blogged about Ronan in a while.  So here we go!

Ronan is 2 and a half.  30 months old.  He is such an amazing, vibrant little person.  He has SO much to say.

Only, he can’t say it.

It really has been so long since I wrote about this.  I feel like I should mention it again.  Ronan “has” Childhood Apraxia of Speech.  Has is in quotation marks because this medical diagnosis isn’t given out until a child is 3 years old.  However, he has all of the signs and markers of it, we have been doing his therapy as though he does, and he has been responding beautifully.

Ronan LOVES his speech therapist, Miss Emily.  He’s excited when she gets here, and he is sad when she leaves.  She has been fantastic about knowing what type of activities will get the most ‘work’ out of him, while also letting him have fun.  She spoils him a little too, and I can’t say that we mind!

When we started therapy in June, Ronan had very few words.  Through therapy, we’ve been teaching him sounds; how to make them, where they’re used, where they come in a word.  So instead of just teaching him how to say single words, we have been teaching him the ability to spontaneously say words he couldn’t previously.

This is such a hard subject to write about… I’m having trouble figuring out what I want to say and how to say it.  There are so many leaps and strides Ronan has taken that wont seem like anything to someone that isn’t familiar with apraxia.

Ronan previously said “UH!” when he wanted to be picked up, but has recently started putting the “P” sound at the end.  He says “Yes” and “No” appropriately.  He gets just as excited as we do when he figures out a new word.  He says “cookie” and “keys” and “gokeen” means ‘broken’.  He says “BABY!” and points at Ruby and gives her a kiss.  He says “Nah nah” when we put him in bed now… ‘night night’.  He says “more book” when we wants us to read him a story.  He says so many new things every day that I can’t remember them all.  It is so amazing.

We still have struggles and frustrations.  There are times when he tries so desperately and earnestly to tell us what he wants, and we just can’t figure it out.  It’s a work in progress.  Nothing comes easily or quickly for Ronan, but he keeps trying.  And things will just keep getting better and better.

I know it.

 

At Peace.

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It’s been two weeks since our journey to Albany.

Ruby’s tongue has healed beautifully. There is no evidence of any tie. We continue to pull/stretch her tongue several times a day to be sure that there will be no readhesion. She appears quite pleased with her re-found tongue mobility; especially when eating solid foods.

And yet… once again, my sweet dream of a quick fix, an easy solution has gone awry.

For the two days I was gone, Ruby nursed exclusively. I didn’t bring bottles and I didn’t bring a pump, so all of her feedings were at the breast. When I got home, I continued to nurse her without offering any bottles, and it felt like nursing was getting better and better. Her patience at the breast improved, and she seemed less frustrated. She nursed for longer periods without pulling or pushing away. It started to feel like we were on an upward trend…

… and then I had to go back to work. Always, I end up going back to work. Ruby ends up getting bottles, and I don’t get the chance to nurse her for 48 whole hours. When I got home after the first weekend back after the clipping, I ran a warm bath. It had been several hours since my last pump session, so I was quite full and Ruby was quite hungry. I stripped her down and we got in the tub together. We relaxed, stayed calm, played. I didn’t offer her to nurse, and I didn’t put any pressure on her to try. I just wanted to enjoy some motherbaby love time and see what happened.

She very quickly made her way over to the breast and showed her interest. She pinched and grabbed at my nipple, trying to pull it to her mouth instead of moving in to latch. I helped her get into a comfortable position and she brought her mouth to breast… sucked a few times, got angry, and quit. She didn’t try again. I offered the breast a while later and she turned her head away again. With not a few tears in my eyes, I handed her over to her father, who had a bottle prepared, and I went to pump.

That night, I continued to try to nurse her while co-sleeping, as I have always been. She was brutal. She pinched and pulled. She cried on and off the breast. She seemed frustrated and angry, and I didn’t know what to do. I simply kept offering the breast over and over again until she finally latched, and then I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore the pain of her pinching and pulling back in order to keep her calm enough to go back to sleep. Every nightwaking was this way. I spent most of the night crying too.

Every time I say I’ve reached the end of my rope, I find more rope. Again and again, I’ve found more rope. There might be more rope out there this time – perhaps someone else has more rope to give me. Perhaps someone will be able to help me find more of my own. But right now, I’m grasping on to the wispy threads of the end of this ratty rope, and I don’t feel like fighting any more. I don’t feel like hurting. My hands are tired of hanging on.

I’ve been pumping lots and lots of milk. We’ve been cuddling and snuggling during bottle feeds. She will still sleep in my bed. Not much else will change… but at the moment – this very moment – our nursing relationship on hold. I wanted to write “over” but I can’t bring myself to do it. Maybe that will change. Maybe it wont. But right now I am at peace.

And if anything changes… I’ll be sure to let you know.

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Ketchup.

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I have intended to sit down and write every single day since we got back from Albany.  I have lots to say.

First, our trip went flawlessly.  AFTER we got over the 2 hour delay in CLT on the tarmac, the rest of the trip was smooth as silk.  Dr. Kotlow and his whole staff were amazing, as usual.  They stuck around to wait for us because of our delay, and Ruby’s procedure was done in mere moment.  Ruby was un-phased and back to smiling within minutes!

Ruby with Dr Kotlow after the procedure.

Immediately after, Ruby and I had the immense pleasure of meeting one of my sweetest online friends for dinner.  I can’t even begin to describe how thrilled I was that Kimberly and her husband were willing to drive over two hours to get to Albany just to meet Ruby and I.  Have I mentioned before how much I love twitter??  We had such an amazing time.  Ruby and Kimberly’s sweet boy were angels during dinner, enjoying some food a la baby led weaning, and grinning at each other from their highchairs.  When the held hands?  I DIE.

Ruby and her pal! Blurry ruby wouldn't stop moving. :)

Beautiful Kimberly and her sweet husband Joshua were so fantastic.  It’s hard to describe what it’s like to meet someone that you just know you’d be perfect friends with.  It’s even harder to realize that, if not for the distance, you could hang out every day.  Your families could grow up together.  You could get coffee, and go on walks, have barbecues, sleepovers.  You could cry together.  Laugh together.  It’s hard to realize that despite how the internet makes the world so small, it’s actually still just a little too big.

Ruby and I spent the night in a motel in Albany and flew home first thing Thursday morning.  I’ll gloss over the airport security woman that felt it necessary to tell me that breastfeeding is “gross” and fast forward to being HOME.  I had nursed Ruby exclusively the whole time we were gone, and I felt like she just kept getting better and better.  I feel like nursing without the use of ANY other feeding mechanism would be our fastest and best bet and nursing well.

Thursday night, I took another step in a wonderful direction; I took my first class on the road to becoming an IBCLC.  It was so perfect.  I felt like I absolutely was supposed to be there.  I am so, so, SO excited about it, and I find myself eagerly awaiting the next class – even more so, awaiting the start of clinicals!  I hung around after the class and was able to speak with Gretta, our instructor.  We talked a little about Ruby and our nursing journey.  She asked me a few questions.  I lamented that we’ve given up on professional help because we simply can’t afford to spend any more money on consultations and appointments that yield no results.  She told me, “Well… I think we’ll just have to make you our special project then.  We’ll get you and Ruby nursing.  I think we can.”

And then I cried.

I worked Friday, Saturday and Sunday, unable to get the chance to nurse Ruby for 3 days straight due to sleeping, pumping and eating schedules.  When I offered her the breast this morning, she bit me.  The first time she has ever, and I yelped.  It made her cry.  Two steps forward and a quick jog backwards.  This blog has gotten much longer than I had intended, so I’m signing out!  This is the current state of things, and thanks for letting me catch up!

A Last Hurrah.

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Well, here we go.

I’m typing this from the airport. Ruby and I are headed back to Albany to have her tongue tie re-addressed.

A few weeks ago, I emailed Dr. Kotlow pictures of Ruby’s tongue, stating that I thought she ha re-adhered. He agreed and told me if we could make our way back out, he would divide the tie again with no charge.

It has taken me this long to get everything lined up and secure tickets, but now we’re on our way. We are flying stand-by and not returning until tomorrow morning. It’s going to be a long two days. Please keep your fingers crossed that there will be a seat for us.

As far as breastfeeding goes, I dont know that this will fix our problems… but it can’t make them worse, right? I feel like this is my final big effort to make things work. If it doesn’t, no one will ever be able to say I didn’t try hard enough. I won’t be able to say I didn’t try.

Wish us luck. I’m excited, nervous, a little scared… mostly hopeful.

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