Lessons in Love: discipline and mothering

Thank you to Laura at Navigating the Mothership for inviting me to share with her readers a snapshot of how discipline plays out in the Sears house with two little boys ages 1.5 and 3.5!

Shortly after Merritt was born Laura shared another guest-post I wrote titled Lessons in Love: learning to mother two, which focused on how I was managing the transition from 1 child to 2 after a preterm birth and a 28-day NICU stay. While that post touched on discipline strategies for the younger toddler, this post focuses on discipline for older ones because every day is uncharted territory, and because 3 year olds make 2 year olds look so easy.

Admittedly, discipline is a hard topic to tackle in a blog post. There are amazing blogs dedicated solely to this one aspect of parenting. I will do my best to share with you here some of the issues we face and offer some advice based on what is working for us right now.

Discipline is an ongoing challenge at our house in the way that it demands a high level of daily intention and regular re-evaluation of our methods. It's an iterative process. The kids' abilities and their understanding of the world in which they live changes daily and so my expectations and guiding approach to their behavior necessitates that I adapt my mothering to accommodate and facilitate their individual paths.

My husband and I take the long view approach to parenting. We have ideas about the kind of adults that we hope our boys grow into: engaged, empathetic, compassionate, confident, and self loving, among other traits. The challenge for me is to remain focused on those goals when I'm exhausted with the reality of daily caretaking and feeling pushed to my own limits by the near constant violation of social etiquette and common courtesy that characterizes the toddler set by virtue of their development. I see my role as one that can facilitate their growth and learning by using discipline as an opportunity to educate, not to reward, punish, or shame. To connect and build on the trust that we share, not to withdraw my love or attention in a show of power or in an effort to control.

I keep at the forefront of my mind the words of Alphie Kohn:

It may sound obvious, but we sometimes seem to forget that, even when kids do rotten things, our goal should not be to make them feel bad, nor to stamp a particular behavior out of existence. Rather, what we want is to influence the way they think and feel, to help them become the kind of people who wouldn't want to act cruelly. And, of course, our other goal is to avoid injuring our relationship with them in the process.

The way I choose to discipline my children is influenced by so much: my core belief about children and my understanding of their development, my own childhood experiences, and my strengths and weaknesses as an imperfect human being.

My approach to discipline has always been intertwined and woven deeply into my values on mothering. Understanding the physical, psychosocial, and cognitive capacity of the boys' development helps me to know what is normal and appropriate for their ages, and offers me the ability to proactively implement discipline in a way that empowers my parenting instead of relying on fear and reactivity as my guide; fear that my kids are going to be doing these things forever, and reactive to find a short-term solution to make it stop.

Recurring Discipline Themes:

Aggressive and/or inconsiderate behavior: 
Roscoe's imagination is wild and unbound. Since he was very young he has acted out his emotions and imaginative play in animal form. He is in character 80% of the day and appears to have little self awareness when role playing with such reckless intensity. At any given moment I can peek into his world by asking him what animal he is, a simple question that typically elicits a passionate narrative of predator and prey.

Behaviors like headbutting (I'm a bull!), spitting (I'm a fire breathing dragon!), biting (I'm a lion eating a zebra!), hitting in frustration (or because he is a viking slaying a dragon!), and otherwise using his body, facial expressions, and voice to intimidate his brother, or other children and adults in his vicinity are a constant problem. He does not easily respond to verbal requests or even physical restraint in efforts to bring him back into reality. Social settings in which cooperative play is expected are particularly difficult for me. My favorite author on the topic of child discipline, Judy Arnall, wrote a great summary article about how to handle this situation, and her description is more or less how we deal with Roscoe's aggressive behavior in public spaces. Sometimes I let my need for social connection with other adults supersede Roscoe's need for a change in scenery, and I am reminded that I should be more willing to abandon the activity at hand and pack up for home when transgressions are repeated and it is clear that Roscoe is not able to fully or appropriately participate.

Not listening: Pretty straightforward here! I've learned that preschoolers between the ages of 3 and 5 can be expected to "listen", which really means to do what we say within a specific arbitrary time frame that we set, less than 40% of the time. Considering how many requests I make of Roscoe and Merritt as we move through our day, guiding them through their routines, transitions, and activities, it is not surprising that I feel unheard much of the time.

Not sharing/taking toys from others: Roscoe is getting better at this, and we have always framed sharing in the context of taking turns. I allow him discretion to identify toys that he does not have to share--much like in adult life, there are some things that are ours and that we do not care to share in case they are damaged or lost (best to put those items away before company comes though!).  For everything else I make a point to let him know that when he is done, Brother or Friend will take their turn. And then I let him finish his turn in his own time frame. Admittedly, in social settings, I often feel pressure to push him along, but at home he gets to take his time. When he is done I bring it full circle by announcing, "OK, Roscoe is done with his turn. Brother, it is your turn now." Both boys react very favorably to this approach and I think each opportunity to successfully demonstrate the technique provides them with a better understanding and greater trust that each of their needs will be met. Roscoe also has a good habit of offering a "trade" or substitution toy when Merritt is playing with a particular toy that Roscoe wants.

Sibling Relationships:
As their mother, I want the boys to have a healthy friendship and a common respect for one another. I largely believe that the tone of sibling relationships is set by parents. Like in other aspects of their lives I want the boys to learn how to solve problems in a way that is effective and fair. I can help them by facilitating their understanding of the others' point of view, and by modeling effective communication when they are in conflict. In the past I would attempt to get to the bottom of their conflict (who hit whom, how did the toy get broken, etc.) at least for the benefit of my own understanding, but I have since changed my approach.

Now, I address the upset child, and listen to get a better understanding of the underlying need. Then I translate: "Merritt: Roscoe is frustrated that you are moving his trucks into the bin. He is making a special pile of wrecked cars. Roscoe: Merritt feels like you have all the trucks and is sad that he doesn't have any toys to play with." Next I give a suggestion: "Hey, Roscoe, instead of ripping from brother's hand the toy you want, you could say, 'Merritt, I am making a special pile of trucks, I don't want you to mess them up. Here are two cars you can play with.'" Usually Roscoe expresses his understanding of the alternative form of communication and sometimes asks for a do-over, which I grant. We all feel good when the reenactment is successful. With this approach I avoid choosing sides or handing down judgment, which is not the role that I want to play between them anyway, especially as they grow older.

There are some definite absolutes in our house. It is not OK for either brother to physically assault the other, even if by accident. It is my choice not to engage in power struggles with either of them and there are a lot of behaviors that I overlook in exercising my right not to engage them. However, if I see with my own eyes Roscoe hit Merritt, for example, I make an immediate and obvious gasp of disapproval first attending to Merritt and then addressing Roscoe. In an effort to encourage their natural tendency toward empathy and compassion, I make frequent declarations about the importance of paying attention (a different but synonymous word choice for "be careful"), being kind, and being gentle. I think Roscoe understands what is expected on this point, but whether he has enough control to thwart his impulses is another story.

Discipline Tools

There are many tools I rely on, but these are the current and primary ones in no particular order:

• Change the environment: new play area, new activity
• Take action: get up, engage, facilitate, remove, etc. 
• Count to five: there are times when compliance in a specific time frame is necessary. This technique offers two options: 1. Roscoe gets moving in the right direction by the time I count to five, and retains his autonomy to complete a task on his own, or else 2. I step in and complete the task for him. 
• Time-in as a calm down tool: separate child from the offending situation, help him to calm down, then reconnect on the way to problem solving the situation. (In the recent past I've played around with more traditional time-out, however, I've found that it isn't as effective and doesn't foster our relationship.)
• Ask questions. Behavior is a symptom of unmet need. I try to understand the kids' perspectives to the best of my ability so that I can be fair in my assessment and continue to meet them where they are.
• For whining or demanding voices I say things like, "I can't understand you when you use that voice. Instead you could say... or, You might try...." When the appropriate voice is used I respond to their requests immediately.
• Natural consequences: If you break it, you fix it. If you want it, you ask for it. If you make a mess, you clean it up.The implementation of this is relatively new in our house, but it works well!
• Acknowledge the impact of how their behavior affects others: I often use the motivating phrase, "Thank you, that is very helpful." while providing a brief explanation of how their decision to clean up after themselves, or to not dump out all their toys saves me time or energy. Or a focus on feelings: "I feel sad when you say I'm stupid." (true story!!)
• When/then phrases to demonstrate the natural order of things. WHEN you pick up your toys, THEN we will go outside for a walk. We are planners, and I make a point to let the kids participate in developing our plan for the day. The when/then prompt reminds them of what is upcoming without becoming a bribe. 
• Yelling: This one I don't recommend! Sometimes I yell to be heard, in the hopes of being listened to, or to make a voice that can rise above the near constant chaos of a full house. I am just one of many here. At times attention spans and patience can be hard to come by, for little guys and big people too. What I'm learning is that I need to better at boundary and limit setting.

A few Do's that I keep close to my heart:

• Give the benefit of the doubt. Our children are good and well-intentioned little people inside, even if they do things we don't like.
• Give trust and respect.
• Avoid power struggles. I pick my battles largely around safety and personal boundaries. I'm not here to win or to be the boss. We're a family and we have to work together to understand everyone's needs and to help ensure that they are met.
• Don't hold grudges.
• Apologize when appropriate. If I screw up we talk about it when everyone is calm and I apologize. Each of us has needs and feelings, and none of us is perfect. I want to foster a home-life that not only provides everyone with validation and freedom to feel their emotions, but also provides the tools needed to express them in appropriate ways. 
• Address basic need for water, food, and attention. 

Final Thoughts

Parenting is life (And therapy! as I like to say), and through this role I am learning and growing as a person, just as my husband is. As far as I can tell there is no end point. Every day is a new day: my boy is one day older tomorrow and I've never before parented a child of 3 years, 6 months, and 4 days. If the family dynamic is upset something isn't working and change is necessary to regain balance.  As much as I crave routine and stability, I am learning to remain flexible knowing that it is required for our success as a family. I build my relationship with my kids with every interaction and with every day that goes by. As I hone my own skill-set I'm a better teacher to my children.
I also know that I've had a good day when at the end of it my relationship with the kids is intact as a result of my ability to mother with intention and purpose. I have become more aware of my triggers: noise chaos, not feeling heard, loss of control, interruptions during important tasks. When I find myself feeling resentful that is my cue that I need to do a better job setting or respecting my own boundaries. Ahhh, the fine line between respectful vs indulgent parenting.

I also try to make PEACE a priority every day. In fact, it is at the top of my to-do list.

A few well read and much loved parenting resources: 

Becoming the Parent You Want To Be by Laura Davis & Janis Keyser
Discipline Without Distress by Judy Arnall
Unconditional Parenting by Alphie Kohn
Janet Lansbury's blog, Elevating Childcare
Gina Osher's blog The Twin Coach

Please share your parenting book suggestions, I'm always looking for good reads!

March for Babies, the walk

We woke up on Sunday morning to a downpour of rain.  We knew that March for Babies is a rain or shine event so we dressed for the conditions as best we could, and tried to maintain our enthusiasm for  walking five wet miles in 53 degree temperatures.

In truth, it felt like a silly hardship to complain about compared to our NICU journey, and to what many babies face every day, just to live.

One corner of Monroe park was bustling with walkers and sponsors, music blaring.  We turned in our funds raised: $625.00!  and took our place in line--we were one of the last groups to join the pack.  The kids were snuggled in the BOB, protected by a rain cover and packed-in with plenty of books and snacks for the road. We found Roscoe's mini rainbow umbrella in the trunk of the car and it was good enough.

It appeared that many walkers had decided to stay home and that, certainly, the babies and smaller children had been left to be warm and dry. Still, those who had shown up were in high spirits and never let on that the weather left something to be desired or that their shoes were already soaked through. In the crowd I caught glimpse of a banner held In Memory of some mother's baby.

Within the first block Merritt was screeching to be released out of the stroller and so we stopped. Emergency vehicles charged with following up the rear were less than half a block behind us, so I lifted Merritt up and plopped him into the Ergo as we scrambled not to be caught in the very last position.

The rain was steady and we tried to keep a decent pace to minimize exposing the kids to the elements. Our hope was that they would fall asleep en route, around 10:00, which is their nap time.

The city was smoky with fog and drizzle. We walked quietly across the Manchester Bridge and I felt very small so high above the James river with its rushing water and ruins of industrial city landscapes. I held on tighter to Merritt.

We turned down Semmes Avenue where traffic flow was reduced down to a wide sidewalk.  I listened to two mothers exchange stories of their premature twins, and focused intently on the back of one mother who had pinned to her shirt a laminated collage of her babies Then, and Now as toddlers.

We started across the Lee bridge and rain hit from new angles as the winds whipped everything up. I fondly remembered these winds from running the Richmond marathon in 2005. A newlywed in graduate school with "nothing to do" I had signed up with the training team the week we returned from our honeymoon, begging the coaches to let me run even though training had commenced a month earlier. My favorite training run incorporated this river, and this bridge.  Our coach had warned us that on race day the winds would be tremendous and that our mental focus would need to be acute. I think it was around mile 16 or 17. I remember running the Lee bridge and gathering up in my mind all the longing and hope (and expectation) that I carried for one day becoming a mother. Fueled by joy and felicity I persevered through that wind to the other side and around the corner to pound through the miles that lay ahead of the finish line. I was 23 then, unaware of life's disappointments and struggles. That was before Grave's Disease.  Before the depression. Before the separation.  Before I felt a mother's love, and before Merritt's premature birth.

Crossing the bridge on Sunday, Merritt was cold, his little eyes squinty and tired, his hair damp.  Roscoe had fallen asleep. Andy and I were drenched and continued to walk in formation, only speaking to commiserate. As we reached the ramp off the bridge, we could hear pulsing beats from speakers at the finish line.  We were close. 

As we re-entered the park I was approached by a woman who recognized us as having donated small toys and art supplies to the children's hospital for little ones with extended stays. I walked over to her tent and another volunteer gave me a hug and shared how much each donation means to the families who receive them. I broke down in tears. I had feared these tears but it felt good to let them out.

She asked me to tell her my story. She had one too and turned to show a photo of her daughter who had been born at 28 weeks gestation and had suffered a brain hemorrhage that resulted in severe brain damage, handicaps, and learning disabilities.  Her daughter died when she was seven years old.

I told her how Merritt had been born at 33 weeks, and paraphrased the events because hearing her story made mine feel less traumatic. We hugged each other.

I expressed my growing fear of having another premature baby, and of having to negotiate that experience again as a family.  She shared that she went on to have two healthy pregnancies and two full term babies.  I felt some relief for her and a little hope for us.  

Thank you so very much to everyone who generously donated to March for Babies on behalf of our little lion Merritt. You are awesome!

April Airhart
Alicia Blakey
Heidi, Griff, and Lillian Bone
Katy Carkuff
George Fields
Kelly Johnson
Madeleine Ly
Olga Meyerson
Jessa Diaz Poppenhager
Robert Ragos
Vanessa Ragos
Kate Reilly
Al Salas
Carmen Gragnani
Courtney Sears
Ernie Sears
Valerie Sears
Jack St. Clair
Amber Sterling
Danielle Temple
Nicole Tully
David Williams

Marching for Merritt

I've been looking for a way to give back through an organization or community opportunity related to prematurity. You may have noticed the  March of Dimes button in my side bar. It's a small start but we are walking as a family this year!  I'm looking forward to meeting other families who share the NICU experience and to learn more about how I can get involved here at the local level.

We had hoped to raise at least $100 to celebrate Merritt, and to support the March of Dimes in their mission to improve the health of babies by preventing birth defects, premature birth, and infant mortality. 

Through some very generous donations we met and then surpassed our goal in the first 24 hours! 

I cried with every donation that came in.  It means that much to me.

There are 39 days until the walk and we have a new goal of $500. The funds raised will support research and programs that help moms have full-term pregnancies through health education and legislative initiatives, as well as bring comfort and education to families with a baby in newborn intensive care. 

If you would like to donate any amount of money to our fundraising effort, please visit our March of Dimes web page or donate directly through the button in the side bar.

Every single dollar is so helpful and very much appreciated!

For those who followed our NICU journey through this blog or who lived it with us in person, thank you for supporting our family. We are grateful to each of you. 

Edit: Whoa, look what you guys did!!  We reached our second goal.  You are awesome! Thank you so very much.

Reflecting on Merritt's Birth-Day

Merritt turned one year old on Saturday. We celebrated with a sweet and colorful afternoon party that fit perfectly with Merritt's low-key personality and my need for a quiet anniversary.

I recall the ache of my sinking heart when, at 32 weeks 6 days, my water broke and I understood that Merritt was on his way. The juxtaposition of the onset of labor for each of my two boys is stark. What I welcomed with warm confidence and joy with Roscoe, I summoned will to push away with Merritt. Whether or not I was ready to give birth to him, and for reasons that we'll never know, our little Merritt boy needed to be born early and by the time I had realized it, the process was in full motion.

When I first shared Merritt's birth story there was more that I wanted to write.  At the time, I wasn't sure how my sadness and anger, and feelings of powerlessness fit in with the story of how I met my second, and perfect, little boy. There wasn't room for the raw grief that I felt. But, there has always been more to say, and the feelings I felt then have only intensified with time.

Probably because life has been so very full and a little crazy since Merritt arrived, it's been hard to find time to process any of it. I've needed to grieve for what was lost, on both our accounts, and yet I haven't made time for it. And so, as the new year came and then February arrived, a sad disappointment lingered, which speaks nothing of the pride and sweet joy that Merritt brings to our family, or to the growing love that I feel for him.

We were very lucky that after a swift and uncomplicated labor, I gave birth to a small but utterly healthy baby. I know now that if any of the variables of Merritt's birth had been different--if labor hadn't progressed as quickly, if there had been earlier signs of the placental abruption, if Merritt’s heart tones had recovered even just a little bit slower--he would have been sectioned out. We were very close, in fact.

I’m so grateful that Merritt breathed well on his own, that he was a good size for his gestational age, and that his little system had the opportunity to experience the stress of labor and a vaginal birth.

The smug pride that I felt for beating the odds by giving birth to Merritt in a way that was as close to what I had hoped for us as I could have grasped at the time, was overshadowed shortly after by a quiet and serious panic that set in when first I was made to wait over two hours to see my baby and then, later, when I learned what a NICU stay of any length really implies.

That low-level heightened awareness stayed with me for the full 28 days, and I remained very guarded and vigilant. I held close to my determined heart the confidence I knew as a woman who had done most of this before--birth, breastfeeding, mothering. I clung tightly to the good and powerful feelings I kept from Merritt's birthday, and found enough strength to carry both of us in the foreign world of isolettes, feeding schedules, and separation. My role in there, as Merritt's Momma, made me feel for the first time in my life that I was a grown up. Truly. Merritt's tiny person needed me more than any other single thing and knowing that I was wholly responsible to him was humbling and intensely exhausting. (Posts about our adventures in the NICU begin here.)

I feel more deeply now, though I had always believed it to be true, that the way in which our children are born, our experience of birth, and the way that we process and retell our stories, is so vitally important to our health as women and to our role as mothers, with much, much, greater far-reaching importance and consequence than our society gives credit. I find it miserably inadequate when I hear of these powerful experiences of life and birth and loss whittled down to the healthy baby, healthy mother mantra.  Many will find it hard to understand, but while I am thankful that my baby was healthy and I am also thankful that I was left intact, some things (many things) were lost for me in that experience. I grieve for those things.  And I know many mothers who feel this way and who share the same sense of longing for what could have been.

Of course, I feel so sorry that Merritt was born into a circumstance where separation of mothers from their babies is not only normal but expected. Where painful procedures are frequent and, in our case, where I conceded (more than once) to stand at the nurses station while my baby had IV lines placed, a routine for which the nursing staff wouldn't allow me to be present.  I feel a lot of guilt for leaving Merritt so vulnerable and if ever our family has to endure another stay in the NICU, I will fight against any policy that elevates a protection for nursing staff above my right and responsibility to advocate for and emotionally support my own child.

While Merritt won't remember all that he went through before we brought him home from the hospital, he certainly experienced it, and I will never forget it.  I'll always wish that he had a more peaceful and deserving entry into the world.

Diapering x2

We've been cloth diapering since Roscoe was two months old. Initially, we bought twelve Bum Genius one size AIOs and once we got the hang of it we added twelve more. It's been a relatively low maintenance investment, and the diapers are still in great condition. Only recently did Roscoe outgrow them. Yep, he wore the same 24 diapers for almost two years.

Abby's Lane opened a brick and mortar store nearby (it's awesome if you are local), and we went to the grand opening a few weekends ago. It made for a very pleasant Saturday afternoon because the farmer's market was in full swing, we ate lunch next door at a self proclaimed "breastfeeding friendly" restaurant , and we found a tot lot around the corner. Roscoe got to watch the trains coming and going from the VRE station, and we ordered extra thick strawberry milkshakes for the road. But, I digress.

I've never had the opportunity to shop for cloth diapers in person, but whew! It's so much better than shopping online. It's easy to be overwhelmed by the hundreds of cloth diapering options and permutations available. Even with everything laid out in front of me, and sound advice from well versed staff, I still spent almost two hours just browsing.

As it turns out, at Roscoe's age and with his sturdy build, he's really too big for most AIOs. Our options are limited to Bum Genius size extra large (pros: we know and love the brand, they come with one insert; cons: they cost 17.95 each, are available in white only, and have snap closures) or Happy Heinys size extra large (pros: they cost 15.95 and have velcro tab closures; cons: inserts are not included, and they are available in a variety of "off" colors). In the end, our decision to purchase Happy Heinys was based on the fact that we favor velcro over snaps.

With every intention to wash diapers every other day we bought twelve Happy Heinys in a variety of colors that Roscoe chose himself, and 12 BabyKicks inserts at 4.99 each (to be paired with the infant inserts from our original twenty four BGs). I've been really happy with their performance so far. We use disposables overnight and at nap time.

Armed with new information we also switched from Planet detergent to Tide ultra which elevates tremendously the chore of cloth diaper washing. Planet detergent did the job okay, but Tide just smells so good and, frankly, seems to do a better job.

As Roscoe grew up and out of his bum genius diapers, Merritt grew right into them. By the time I had the energy to even consider swaddling Merritt's bum in cloth, he had all but outgrown the entire newborn stash that I had assembled prior to his arrival. That was a disappointing realization, but the BGs on the smallest setting with the one size inserts fit him well. I do still struggle with the bulk of the BGs on such a small frame, but that's the way it goes, I guess, with diapers designed to fit babies 7 to 35 pounds. (As a side note, I really loved the fit of the BG size extra small AIOs, which he did get to wear quite a bit for at least a few weeks before they became too snug.)

This last one reminds of me of a similar picture of Roscoe, two months younger.

Merritt's birth story

It's Mother's Day weekend and a good time to finally share the events that led up to meeting my second son.

His birth is emotionally complicated for me since we had planned to give birth at home. When my water broke at 32 weeks 6 days we headed to the nearest hospital for a preterm delivery.

Part 1 of our story can be found here.

Part 2:

Earlier that day

By morning, the regularity of the middle of the night contractions had dissipated but because I was uncertain of when true labor might begin, I requested to meet with the Neonatalogist and also the on-call OB/GYN. I had every intention to take a nap that afternoon and catch up from lack of sleep from the previous day and night but, both physicians decided to stop by before I had the chance.

1:10 pm

Mid conversation with the obstetrician, as we discussed my "ideal" birth and reframed some of my expectations to reflect the current circumstances, the contractions returned and this time they were uncomfortable. I had five contractions over 45 minutes, and at the end of our talk I knew that this was the official start of my labor.

Still on the antepartum/postpartum floor, assuming that I wouldn't be allowed any food during labor, I ordered the lunch that I hadn't eaten earlier in the day. Then I called Andy and my doula to let them know that it was a good time for them to make their way to the hospital.

2:10 pm

Nursing staff came in to hook me up to the external fetal monitor (EFM) and within a few minutes I was wheeled off the floor to Labor and Delivery. The power of the contractions was familiar and continued to increase. I was in labor, but the nurses insisted that I remain in bed on my back while they monitored the contractions so that they could confirm it.

One nurse turned on the tv and handed me the remote before she left. (ha!)

2:30 pm

Andy arrived shortly after I was settled in L&D, and because I had left my room before lunch arrived, and because I was so hungry already, we plotted how to get food and water (I had been told not to eat or drink anything). He bought some chapstick, and retrieved some water bottles and GUs from my room on postpartum.

The intensity of the contractions required my total concentration, and because I was confined to the bed, I couldn't rely on position changes. Instead, I dug deep into my arsenal of Bradley techniques--stuff that I had never used or needed for Roscoe's labor.

Centered at my cervix, each contraction radiated tight and hot to my hips and lower back. Andy applied counterpressure on my lower back for a few contractions, but lying on my side required that I "push back" to avoid being pushed over, and it became less helpful and more irritating so we stopped.

What worked best for the duration of my labor was total relaxation--I never really understood how this technique could work during labor, but it is the cornerstone of the Bradley method and given the constraints of the situation, I was willing to give it a try. Nestled in a bed of pillows and fully supported, I invested my energy in relaxing every part of my body, and then used visualizations to help me focus in on the work of my cervix. I visualized my body making way for my baby.

My Ipod was incredibly helpful--while I hadn't had time to load a birthing playlist (or even make one, for that matter!), for the duration of each contraction I turned on my music and went to other places. I think I listened to the same three or four songs on repeat: Roscoe by Midlake, Dog Days Are Over by Florence and the Machine, Clocks by Coldplay, and I Like It by Enrique Iglesias (don't ask! It was on there, and it worked.).

Music always gives me energy to physically push myself, but in this birth, it also served to drown out the myriad distractions in my room: nurses coming in and out to check the monitors, lights flipping on and off, NICU team staff preparing and organizing in their corner for Merritt's arrival.

4:30 pm

My doctor stopped by for an update and after we talked for a few minutes she checked me and confirmed that I was 4 cm dilated, and 100% effaced. Active Labor! Honestly, I would rather have not known of this "progress" because the contractions were already so powerful. I didn't want to be discouraged, but knowing that I had 6 cm to go was discouraging. I gave myself a moment, and with the pain of the next contraction I forgot all about numbers and welcomed a return to work.

I asked for water and freedom to move and labor as I felt most comfortable. One point not up for negotiation was the EFM--because this was a preterm birth I had to have continuous monitoring, which was ok because the leads were plenty long and gave me enough space next to my bed to move around. The nurse gave me a hard time about wanting to labor out of the bed, but conceded "as long as the monitors could be read." I was given permission to eat ice chips, which I was so grateful for.

5:00 pm

I was relieved by the thought alone of maybe finding a more comfortable position. As you might expect, the external monitors were so sensitive that they lost signal anytime I wasn't lying still and, like clockwork, an exasperated nurse would run in to check the leads.

5:30 pm

My doula arrived, which emotionally relieved a lot of my stress. I really wanted her to be there to help us through the later stages of labor, and I felt much safer once she was with us. We tried some new positions (squatting with the head of the bed raised at a 90 angle, squatting on the floor, sitting on a ball, leaning over the side of the raised bed) and with minimal luck Lori manually kept the monitors in place.

My nurse stormed in to announce that I could have ten more minutes, but then it was "back to bed." The different positions were not very helpful at that point anyway, so I took what I could get and we kept at it. Ten minutes later we had found a squatting position that was more helpful than others and when we asked for more time the nurse said, "well I have the solution, I'll just put in an internal fetal monitor!" (The kind that screw into the baby's head). I had heard enough and jumped back into my pillows.

With the monitors registering properly, Merritt's heart rate was decelling with each contraction. Although this is normal, and he was recovering ok as far as we could tell, the nurse continued to come in and out of our room every few contractions, drowning us in fluorescent overhead lights upon her every arrival. Andy and Lori encouraged me with each contraction to take big deep breaths in order to get the most oxygen to the baby. Lori's mantra was "breathe for your baby". I felt lightheaded and the pain was making me feel nauseated. The nurse warned that if I was going to throw up, that I couldn't have any more ice chips. My doula said it was a response to the pain and I confirmed that I wasn't actually going to get sick. Lori gave me some physical support with counterpressure, and both Andy and Lori cheered me on and continued to work with me through each contraction.

5:45 pm

I silently talked myself through each contraction. I can do anything for 90 seconds. I focused on each contraction independent from the rest, and took full advantage of those quiet moments in between where comfort still reigned. Labor is such a beautiful and mysterious process, and those breaks are built in for a reason. Releasing long, relaxed, exhalations also helped me to manage my pain.

I remember being so thirsty during this labor, probably because I wasn't allowed to drink anything, and I couldn't get enough of those ice chips. At some point I snuck two GUs, which were just the thing at the time. (I highly recommend them for running, and other marathons, like birth!)

6:00 pm

By the nature of the contractions, I knew I was close to the end and began searching hard for that feeling to bear down and push, because then I knew relief would come. When Lori and Andy pulled the covers back to help reposition my pillows they found blood and Lori said, "uh, I think she's complete" and went to alert the nurses. In no more than a minute or two, my doctor had arrived, along with several nurses, and an entire NICU team. The room was suddenly bright again and filled with people.

I still had no urge to push, although I could feel him moving down. My doctor checked me one last time, noted that I was 10cm dilated and declared it was time to push. I also remember mention of a suspected cord around the neck and placental abruption.

I wanted to push on my own terms, but I still didn't feel the urge and while I had been told that I would be allowed to give birth in whichever position felt most comfortable, my doctor insisted then that she wanted me on my back in the traditional birthing position. She insisted too, on directive pushing which is totally unnecessary in a natural birth especially, and another common practice not at all supported by the literature.

After a few minutes I could feel the transition from labor contractions to pushing contractions, but my urge to push was still ramping up. My doctor relied on the monitor to estimate when a contraction was about to happen and then she would begin to count to ten, but by her third count my urge to push was over, and I wasn't going to push any more. She began talking about the baby's safety, and how I needed to get him out, like, NOW. Pushing was forced and more painful than necessary. I will always remember the sterile drapes and her stern and serious face.

By the third or fourth contraction I finally felt a real urge to push, and when Andy leaned into me to share his concern that we'd be headed for a c-section if the baby wasn't born soon, I followed her instructions to push, with way more force than I would have chosen if left on my own. As Merritt was crowning, I started to resist and told my doctor that I wanted to breathe through a contraction or two to ease him out, but everyone in the room was insisting that he was right there, and so close to being born. My doctor maintained that I should continue to push, push, push.

One of my most vivid memories of this birth is the feeling of shooting a baby out like cannon ball.

6:20 pm

Merritt was born with the cord wrapped around his neck (she just unwrapped it, no biggie) and a robust cry. His cord was cut after 30 seconds, (not the full sixty that is recommended for delayed cord cutting, but we were thankful for any delay). They let me give him a kiss, and then he was handed over to the NICU staff. He weighed 4 pounds 1.6 ounces, and was 17 inches long. His Apgar scores were 7 and 8.

6:30 pm

I delivered the placenta uneventfully and without the use of pitocin. A partial placental abruption was later confirmed.

6:35 pm

Andy was invited to join the NICU staff to observe and take pictures. I remember looking over to the blur of people revolving around Merritt. Andy was tearfully trying to capture the moments that I couldn't be a part of.

6:40 pm

Merritt was shown to me one last time, and then taken to the NICU. Andy followed to know the location, but wasn't allowed to stay.

6:50 pm

The doctor came in with a dinner menu, but we quickly realized that the cafeteria was closed. Andy was instructed by staff to leave the hospital to find food (so horrible!), but a girlfriend of mine arrived shortly after with homemade enchiladas and strawberry shortcake.

We had to spend over an hour on the L&D floor, with promises to see Merritt on the way to Postpartum. Instead, we were taken directly to Postpartum where we were made to wait more.

Around 9:00 pm

Two and a half hours after his birth, we finally got to see Met and hold him for the first time.

Its been a while

Let's seeeee, what's been happening around here over the last two weeks?

Roscoe has weaned

Short story: I was nursing Roscoe once a day at nap time for 3-5 minutes, but our routine was interrupted abruptly when I was admitted to labor and delivery back in February. Andy took over everything in my absence, including naps. I continued to offer to nurse Roscoe whenever we did see each other, and I made a point not to refuse when he asked. In a context outside of nap, nursing lasted only a half minute or so and seemed to serve as a familiar way to touch base with each other. The beginning of the end came when when my milk arrived. Roscoe retracted back with a troubled look on his face, made an exaggerated guttural gagging sound and uttered..."milk." Then he said "done" and was done. Well, mostly. He continued to like the idea of nursing, and continued to request it only to repeat his initial reaction, which then became a sort of game. Since we've come home from the hospital Roscoe has been adamant that milk is for Met.

Brothers

Roscoe reigns as Merritt's big brother. For a 22 month old we've learned that this role largely consists of doling out well intentioned affection with reckless abandon--a gesture challenged greatly by an effort to learn to practice restraint of his wildly excited limbs and appendages (also known as the art of being gentle). While two kids are harder than one, we've quickly learned that it's not the newborn we have to worry about. It's the toddler. Looking back to Roscoe's first few months, I'm a little bewildered as to why we felt so challenged (although to be fair, I understand now that the first time around for us was not so much about the baby as it was the life change). So far, Merritt and Roscoe are a sweet little pair, and I'm already looking ahead a few months when there will be a little more give and take interaction between the two. For now, Roscoe just vies for Merritt's attention--he frequently demands, "look at me! look at me!!"

Merritt is a mellow fellow

He's a quiet little guy who sleeps most of the time (and doesn't necessarily demand to be in arms, which is a strict departure from kiddo numero uno). He wakes to eat, and stays alert for a half hour or so to quietly soak up our rowdy household antics. He nurses on a pretty predictable schedule, so I've found a few opportunities to get out and about without him. Merritt also travels well in the car (such a nice surprise, given infant Roscoe's fear and loathe of the confines of the car seat) so he and I have gone out together a time or two as well--roaming the grocery aisles for the first time in almost two months felt like a real treat.

Nap time is the hardest time, and nursing too

Without fail, as Roscoe's nap time approaches Merritt begins to stir for milk. It has become the most stressful time of the day for me as I ricochet down the hall between the two boys in a sometimes successful attempt to tend to both of them simultaneously.

For a Momma handicapped by limited resources (only two arms and two legs!), nursing requires another balancing act, plus a whole lot of patience. While Merritt eats, Roscoe dances around us, picking, poking, prodding, and testing his limits. He's intent to be in contact with one or both of us at all times, bouncing erratically yet unassumingly on whatever surface we happen to be sitting. It drives me crazy and I'm still experimenting to find the most effective approach to curtail the behavior when I have little ability to immediately redirect or remove him from the scene.

I joined weight watchers

I have literally lost 3 pounds since Merritt was born. THREE. I do believe that four weeks of hospital food and near round the clock sitting gave me the worst head start on postpartum weight loss ever. While it could be argued that getting back in shape should sit lower on my list of priorities, it does not! I joined weight watchers and lost a pound last week. Weight watchers accommodates nursing mothers and is designed to facilitate a loss of one pound a week. Even though I didn't feel hungry and had enough points to indulge my sweet tooth, a one pound loss still feels a little disappointing. At this rate, my postpartum weight loss journey will be very s-l-o-w going.

We're over this monitor

Early last week we met with Merritt's pediatric pulmonary specialist. The data that was downloaded from his monitor revealed only one true spell over a two week period. I was hoping to get a reduced prescription, perhaps nights only or during feeds only. Instead, we were ordered another two weeks on the monitor 24 hours a day. ugh. I have a strong dislike for that little machine and I'm not at all convinced that it is necessary. I'll admit that Merritt hasn't been hooked up for the last four days...I keep telling myself tomorrow. We go back in two weeks and there needs to be data on that hard drive, so TOMORROW!

What's next?

I've been a little overwhelmed and a lot tired since we came home two weeks ago. Merritt is 6 1/2 weeks old, and was officially due this Friday. I've been quietly mourning the fact that I didn't get a "honeymoon" postpartum period, even if only for a day or two. Andy returns to work tomorrow, but my mom will be here to help out this week so I'm hoping to reclaim a tiny piece of what I might have missed.

At the end of the day

For the first two weeks of Merritt's NICU stay, dinnertime remained the only constant for us. I made sure to be home for that hour in an attempt to preserve a sense of normalcy, and family togetherness.

What's for dinner was the last thing on my mind after those long, long days inside the hospital walls. Lucky for us, beginning soon after Merritt was born, meals began to arrive at our doorstep. Dinner. Menu decided, ingredients purchased, prepared, packed, and delivered.

We were spoiled every other day (for two full weeks!) by a meal made with love by our best friends and family. Truth be told, good food warms my heart any time, but there's nothing better than looking forward to sitting 'round a dining room table of familiar faces and savoring the minutes while devouring the fruits of someone else's labor. Especially in hard times.

My friend Emily used Food Tidings to organize our meal tree. The site greatly simplifies the task of bringing nutritious food to the belly of someone in need, and it makes the effort easily accessible to those who are interested in helping. Check it out!

We're Home

Merritt is one month old today (37 week gestation equivalent)! Roscoe will be 22 months old tomorrow. He's been so content examining all of Merritt's details. Here he's taking a close look at toes.

saying goodbye and giving thanks

For the past ten days I've been living with Merritt in the nicu. Our room is small, but it has a makeshift bed and sliding glass doors with privacy screens. Having a place to sleep when Merritt sleeps has saved me. We also have a lot more control over our environment; no more bright overhead lights, beeping monitors, or late night staff chatter.

My totes and duffels are piled high in the only available corner, muslin blankets, a boppy, onesies and tiny socks, and other new baby essentials are strewn about--in addition to my computer, agenda, snacks, and reading materials. It's weird, but just as the place was beginning to feel kinda like home I got word at rounds this morning that Merritt will be discharged tomorrow.

That's right. By mid morning tomorrow we will be set free.

After 26 days, the news doesn't feel quite as thrilling as I imagined it would. In fact, nostalgia for this experience has set in before I've even stepped foot away from it. This room, our nurses, these monitors, they're imprinted into the story of Merritt's early arrival--a series of events that have further shaped my identity as a mother. I've never had to fight so hard for the role.

The first month of our life together, me and Merritt, was more agonizing, tender, and emotionally complicated than I can put to words. Our family's shared investment to take care of each other in a crisis has made me overwhelmingly proud, and while I know that Roscoe wasn't left behind in the larger sense of the word, I hope that he will eventually understand that if the roles were reversed his Momma would feel the same fire to fight for him.

The hospital environment and nicu way of life, which at times made me feel powerless, eventually gave way to necessary partnerships. The impact that this experience has had on the four of us is tremendous, yet Merritt is just one of hundreds of babies admitted to this nicu every year. I imagine that for most of the nurses, caring for us during our stay was just part of the job (although many went above and beyond), but for us our stay in the nicu was our life. Now the thought of leaving this familiar place and these familiar people suddenly seems very strange and a little unsettling.

Will they know how much we've been changed, and how their dedication and investment in our success has really translated for me and Merritt? I will have to tell them.

I'm thinking a good old fashioned hand written note may be the way to go. And a sweet treat never hurts.

good times

On days when I feel terribly sick for home I watch the slideshows that Mel, our photographer, put together of the three of us over the course of Roscoe's first year.

If you've been following us for a while you might remember the photos from Roscoe's two week shoot.

I think Roscoe and Merritt share a lot of features. Merritt seems to have a different nose, and of course he's missing some baby fat.

Enjoy the photos here (and turn up the volume).

oh, but here's the cutie that I get to hang with

Mitch you.

While I've been away, Andy's been keeping me updated on Roscoe's adventures through iphone pictures and video.

See what I've been missin'? I especially adore the bottom left corner shot, where little harry potter stands.

3 weeks, a quick update

The big news from the NICU is that Merritt not only breastfed without additional supplementation for the past 72 hours, but he finally gained weight!!! It's a big deal, and I'm so relieved.

Yesterday he gained 10 grams, which triumphantly proved that Merritt and I are working well together and that my milk, alone, is enough to make him grow. It did fall 5 grams short of the 15 gram target that has been set but we're really more concerned with his growth trends not the daily tallies. Plus, a gain is a gain.

Then, tonight's weigh-in revealed a 45 gram gain. Ah-mazing!

Looks like we will be breaking out of here early next week. We've been told Wednesday, at the latest. And that's the date I'm going with. We'll be pleasantly surprised if we get to go home earlier.

Now I must find a way for our photographer--initially intended to capture Merritt's birth--to make room for us on her calendar to capture our homecoming.

I cannot wait to see Roscoe's reaction when he meets his brother for the first time.

Still Here

Hi all. We are well into our 19th day in the NICU. Can you believe it? I can't.

Merritt made significant progress last week. So much so that one morning his doctor explained that Merritt could go home if he could nipple all of his feeds for 48 hours. Andy was thrilled, and I was hesitantly optimistic.

Merritt's doctor should have said when he could nipple all of his feeds, not IF.

On Sunday, Merritt and I were moved to a more private space in the NICU, and we have been "rooming-in" for the past couple of days. We tested a 15-hour breastfeeding-on-demand experiment, which resulted in a 30 gram weight loss. I thought sleeping at the hospital would save me some energy and hopefully result in more rest, but at 6 in the morning after only 3 hours of sleep, the disappointment of our failure felt overwhelming. Tears flowed freely Monday morning.

Merritt was just not mature enough to consume adequate quantities of milk in order to maintain his body weight, much less grow. Coupled with increased fluctuations in his heart rate and blood oxygen saturation it was made clear that we would not be taking Merritt home anytime soon.

Understanding that no amount of practice, or cajoling, or effort on anyone's part can speed along his maturation process makes this both easier and harder to accept. Since we don't know when his skill set will kick in, I am tested by the uncertainty of the number of days we may still have left here. But it's less stressful too, because I'm saved from the burden to find a solution or to try harder to make our stay shorter.

The most difficult part of this experience has been the disruption to our family life. If we had been guaranteed a three week stay from the start, we might have established a different plan to meet everyone's needs. It's really hard to say. But we naively assumed that Merritt's stay would be short, and decided that we were best taking one day at a time. And, like they do, days have passed turning into weeks, and I'm terribly homesick.

Andy, Roscoe, Merritt and I, we're all missing each other in ways that are hard to explain.

As I type, Merritt nurses contently. A bath is up next. Back at home, Andy and Roscoe are making their way through the nightly bedtime routine and, soon after, Andy will join Met and I in our suite for some snuggling and catchup. I'll be staying the night at the nicu from here on out because little Merritt pulled out his feeding tube this morning and so we've been encouraged to give another go to breastfeeding on demand--I think his doc wants us out of here.

UPDATE: Since the tube was pulled his coordination has improved tremendously and his "spells" have decreased substantially. It could have been the tube, or it could be he difference of another 24 hours passing. Either way, he did an awesome job today, waking to feed, communicating his hunger, and latching and nursing well for substantial periods of time. Tomorrow is a new day and I bet it will be another good one.

Open Crib

Merritt has graduated from his incubator to an open crib! He's in the home stretch and we've been told that he'll be discharged once he demonstrates the ability to nipple (by bottle or breast) all of his feeds for 48 hours. The clock starts now!

Merritt with one of our favorite nurses

Update: He breastfed really well at his first feeding, but was too tired to nurse at his second feed and required to have all the milk through his feeding tube. Boo. Clock restarts. He just needs more time to learn to better coordinate sucking, swallowing, and breathing. Time will also tell how well he is able to regulate his body temperature outside of the isolette.

small steps, big gains

After a long and trying week, last Saturday night came at just right the time.

Andy and I had a "date night" at the NICU. One of our favorite nurses was on shift, and three big things happened: Merritt's parenteral nutrition was discontinued, his IV was taken out entirely, and his nasal cannula was removed.

Finally, we could really see our baby.

Andy and I gave Merritt his third bath and then we dressed him for the first time ever. If you're in the market for super sweet and oh so tiny preemie clothes you must check out Early Birds' organics or sunny days collections. I'm in love. Baby Gap also has a basics line for babies up to 7 pounds. We ordered a little wardrobe for M and they fit him surprisingly well, considering he's just over 4 pounds.

Since Saturday, progress has been slow but steady. His feeding schedule has changed from "continuous feeds" (milk fed through a feeding tube continuously 'round the clock), to "compressed feeds" (milk fed through a feeding tube over two hours, with a one hour break in between; and then the following day a feed over one hour with a two hour break in between), and yesterday he advanced to "bolus feeds" (1 oz. of milk fed all at once with approximately three hours between every feed). Merritt has responded well to every step.

Today he nippled all of his food, and didn't require any tube feeding. He also gained 10 grams, which is a good sign.

Hopefully, his doctors will be impressed in the morning, and we'll get to take the next step forward.

No definitive answer on when Merritt will get to come home, but I'm feeling confident that by no later than this time next week we'll be introducing Merritt to his big brother Roscoe.

Synchronicity

Every baby in the NICU gets a special quilt sewn by a local volunteer.

When I arrived for a visit a few days ago, Merritt's new blanket was draped over his isolette.

SPACE! Constellations, planets, hot air balloons, kites, astronauts, they're all here!!

A week, already?

So far, Merritt's journey in the NICU has been pretty uneventful (thankfully!). He has been stable since he arrived, and spends the time that I'm not with him seemingly content, nestled asleep in his isolette. I can't believe that a week has passed by already.

For three days he was under the bili lights and could only come out for 30 minutes every four hours.

Now that his jaundice has been addressed I can hold him for an hour or so every 4 hours. Usually we try nursing for the first 30 minutes and then do kangaroo care for the rest of the time.

Merritt is slowly being weaned from each of the interventions currently in place (TPN via IV, nasogastric tube feedings, room air nasal cannula, and incubator). The biggest milestone so far will hopefully come tomorrow night when his intravenous nutrition will be discontinued and we'll begin the process of weaning him from the nasogastric tube to the breast.

The stress and strain of the circumstance is beginning to take its toll on all of us. My days begin at the hospital at 7:30 am and I alternate between spending 2-3 hours at the NICU and 1-2 hours at home, with pumping in between. I don't typically make it home at night before 10pm.

The last couple of days I tried to cut down on the back and forth by staying at the hospital all day, but then I missed out on seeing Roscoe. I'm tired, and it has been difficult to find balance in time spent with each of the boys. I feel a greater pull to be with Merritt, but I still feel terrible when Roscoe looks at me with his big eyes and says "miss you" while rhetorically asking "Ug?" (hug). Andy has only been to the NICU a few times this week, and the distance is making Merritt's existence seem abstract.

Andy and I have been brainstorming alternative arrangements to mix things up a bit, maybe we'll switch roles for a day and see how we each feel. All I know is that I really miss my first little guy, and I think it's important that we get to spend some quality time together.

I'm finding comfort in focusing on the few things that I have control over: pumping, nursing, making sure that I'm available for Merritt as much as possible. It's been hard for me to give up control over Roscoe's daily routine but Andy has filled in for me as seamlessly as I knew he would. It's been an unusual opportunity for Poppa/Roscoe bonding, but I know that home-life demands have left Andy feeling equally worn out.

For now, we're literally taking each day one at a time (parent pow-wows commence nightly before bed, in order to plan for the following day). Breakdowns ensue when we try to think too far ahead, and lately my breakdowns are coming more frequently, and without notice. I suppose a good cry is in order every now and then.

Generally, we're expecting at least another week in the NICU, maybe longer. I have a lot of anxiety about what lies ahead for us as Merritt becomes more independent. I'm not sure how easily some of my mothering principles will integrate with the process and procedures of the NICU. Feeding on demand, and responding to his cries are two of my top concerns. I hate to say it, but often the other babies are left to cry for 15 or 20 minutes and then eventually fall asleep without ever being tended to. I guess I'll have to set up camp at his isolette to ensure that my little lion gets all the attention he deserves.

Any other attachment minded parents out there with NICU experience to share with us?

Happy one week birthday Merritt!

Greetings from the NICU