Hunger Games

I know, my posts seem to all be about books these days. But as I read I seem to see things from a different perspective than I ever have before. Now I read things through the eyes of a mother. The eyes of someone who longs for her children to grow up healthy and happy.

Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins was an amazing story. Although it was intended for teenagers I very much enjoyed the plot of the book and look forward to reading the second book. But all the way through the book I continuously thought of how I would feel if one of my children was in the shoes of the main characters.

Let me give you a bit of background without giving away anything from the book. Basically the book revolves around a futuristic society in which all teenagers are required to enter their names in a lottery that would require them to be a participant in the Capitol's Hunger Games. The Hunger Games are a combination of different ideas taken from history but basically the teenagers are thrown into a complex arena and forced to fight one another to death with very little supplies.

The entire time I was reading the book I kept thinking about how much my heart would break to see my own child suffer. To see either one of them not have adequate food to eat. To see them have to fend for themselves at such a young age. I would hate to see them turn to hatred in an effort simply to survive. To do anything to keep themselves afloat.

I would like to pretend that this is simply a world that Ms. Collins made up. But I know that isn't true. Yes, she came up with an original idea but that idea was spun from a variety of realities. Take the gladiators of ancient Rome, for example. While we think of it as entertainment, as did those in the audience, to the actual gladiators it was torture. It was a matter of life or death.

There are also a lot of people who's children are literally starving in this world. Mom's who are unable to provide even the most basic of necessities. There are children who are raising children because their parents died of one disease or another, most likely from AIDS.

It breaks my heart that this is going on in the world and that we live in a society that seems to forget it. We complain and say we are starving if we haven't eaten in 4-5 hours. If we go most of a day without food we act as if it is a major crisis. We say that we are dying of thirst if we haven't had something to drink in awhile. We complain if the public bathrooms are dirty when we are lucky that we even have bathrooms.

We are so spoiled! The list continues and continues on the ways that our country is spoiled. I'm not saying that we need to get rid of everything and live a life of poverty. I couldn't even do that. But I do think that it is important to remember how spoiled we are. To remember all of the benefits that are we given and take for granted.

My hope is that I can pass on an appreciation for everything that we have to my children. I hope to teach them to help those who are less fortunate, both down the street (so often we forget that there are extremely poor people in the United States as well), and in other parts of the world. May they never go hungry and know that this is a blessing. May they never go thirsty and know that they are lucky. May they appreciate the fact that they have parents, healthy parents (Lord willing), and many other family members and friends, who are there for them in all their needs. May they live a full and happy life, a life full of Christ. A life in which, whatever they do, they do whole-heartedly for the Lord.

That is my hope and prayer. May they never have to know a world like that in Hunger Games. I do not ask that they not have troubles. Troubles are important for growth. But I pray that they are troubles that can be overcome.

Ultimately none of it is in my hands. So I must let it go and just trust that God will watch over my children. I look forward to the journey and to seeing who my children blossom into.

Vanishing Act

"When you are pregnant, you can think of nothing but having your own body to yourself again; yet after giving birth you realize that the biggest part of you is now somehow external, subject to all sorts of dangers and disappearance, so you spend the rest of your life trying to figure out how to keep her close enough for comfort. That's the strange thing about being a mother: Until you have a baby, you don't even realize how much you were missing one."


Vanishing Act by Jodi Picoult


So after reading a cheesy, albeit fun, teenage sci fi book I am back to Jodi Picoult. There is something about her writing that just draws me in. I think I am going to try to read all of her books (which shouldn't bee too hard since there are only 18 currently).

I just started "Vanishing Act" and I haven't gotten very far. (I'm on page 21.) But I loved the quote above. I think that it sums up how motherhood feels in a way that I never could have put into words.

Its funny how often I have a hard time believing that Sherwood is actually mine. I have spent so many years taking care of other people's children. I have loved every single one of them, even the ones that drove me crazy. I have cherished every moment with my nieces and nephews. The love I feel for them is extensive. But nothing prepared me for the love that I would feel for my own child.

There are nights when he is asleep when I can't help but sneak into the bedroom and place my hand on that little tummy of his. I want to feel the comfort of his breathing and to just have some physical contact with this creature my husband and I were blessed to take care of.

Other times I sneak onto my iphoto and stare at the pictures of him. I know its silly because he is just in the other room. But there is a comfort about looking at those moments captured in time. He will never again be as old as he is right now. I will never get these moments back. So its important to enjoy every second of them.

There are days, like yesterday and today, where he is so fussy that it is hard to remember the blessing that he really is. I am so grateful that someone put into words the way that I feel about my little one. She said it better than I ever could and expressed the way I truly feel, even in the mist of the trials. Once again I am reminded that I am blessed.

Blessed

I won't deny that there are days (moments) when I forget how blessed I am. But I am truly blessed to be Sherwood's mommy and Aaron's wife. I was reminded of this today when I caught a bit of a show on TLC about ectopic pregnancies.

The show caught my attention because the title was "Pregnant for 46 years." It was about a woman who had an ectopic pregnancy that stayed in her body for 46 years! The baby did not survive, sadly, but it is a miracle that the woman did survive. So often with ectopic pregnancies the woman's body rejects the fetus and it can often kill both the mom and the baby if not treated right away.

As I was watching the show I was once again grateful for my little munchkin who was laying on the couch next to me and talking away. How amazing that I was able to carry such a healthy little boy and that he is able to share his life with me!

Tongue Tie

Today we went up to the DuPont Children's Hospital in Wilmington to have Sherwood looked at by an ENT. We had already visited one here in Dover, but he was not very nice or helpful. All he really did was make Sherwood scream.

Dr. Barth was excellent. We talked to him briefly about how much Sherwood has struggled with eating and how he had troubles with breastfeeding. He took a look at his tongue and saw that it was indeed tied. He suggested that we go ahead and cut it so that Sherwood would be less miserable. We had already decided that if that was what he suggested we would go ahead and have it done.

The procedure is pretty simple. They strapped him down, clipped his tongue and then made a cut where the tie was (they did give him some lidicane to numb it). He bled a little but after eating it was gone. Instead of taking an hour to an hour and a half to eat his five ounces he had downed four of them in 20 minutes! And that was with tears!

I couldn't be in the room though. Aaron was in there and with him but I just couldn't see them attack my baby. It broke my heart when I heard him screaming in the other room. I never thought I would be so weak when it came to my baby's cries. Its not like when someone else's baby cries. When its my baby, all I want to do is stop whatever is bothering him in anyway possible. Not that I don't want to comfort other people's kids. I do. But its so different with my own child. With mine it hurts my heart in a way that is inexplicable.

Anyway, he's been able to eat much more easily. He was able to keep his pacifier in (although I am not sure if he is going to end up liking them or not). He is also able to stick his tongue out much better. That seemed to fascinate him. I'm hoping this makes a great improvement. Or at least makes midnight feedings take less time so I can get more sleep...

Smiles

Smiles just warm your heart. There is something about receiving a genuine smile from someone that just brightens your day. When it comes from someone that you love, especially someone that you love who can't say "I love you" yet, it means even more.

This week Sherwood has been all smiles. Well, not all smiles. He has had a couple of rough days where all he wanted to do was cry and be held. But he has decided to share his gorgeous smiles with me more. For the first time, this week, he has decided to smile every time I come over to get him. Whether it is from the pack 'n play, the crib, the bouncer, the car seat, or the swing, when he sees me his face lights up.

Its such a little thing but that smile, that all encompassing smile, means the world to me. It tells me that no matter what happens, I am loved. It tells me that even when I do things wrong and don't understand his tears, there is still a special connection between the two of us. Most of all, it makes me feel like the most important person in the world and it melts my heart. I love my little guy. I love being his mom. It isn't always easy, in fact, its often very hard. But I wouldn't trade it for the world. :)

Being a night owl

As I just finished scrubbing my kitchen counters, the stove, getting the oven ready to be wiped down in the morning, putting away dishes, washing dishes and getting things going in the dishwasher, preparing bottles, wiping down the trash can, and scrubbing the microwave I realized why I like being up so much in the middle of the night. The middle of the night is, and always has been, MY time.

I can be myself in the middle of the night without worrying about interfering with anyone else's life. I can clean if that is what my heart wants to do without worrying about my little one needing attention or my attention being torn between spending time with my husband and being a "Martha." At night I can write without feeling like my creativity is being stifled. I can take a long bath and read as long as I want to without someone wanting my attention. At night I can be alive, be myself, and not have to be "mom" or "wife." Before I could do it without having to be "daughter" or, at one point, "roommate."

Now don't get me wrong. I love my "day job." I love being Sherwood's mommy. I love being Aaron's wife. And I love being a daughter, sister, and friend. These are wonderful roles that I get to play in the grand scheme of life. But I really love the freedom that I get when the world is asleep to just be Dana.

So tonight I scrubbed the kitchen. And I feel accomplished because it is something that I haven't had time to do thoroughly in the last week or so. I would like to say that I swept and mopped too, which needs done, but I didn't have the energy to do that as well.

I wish I could say that I was tired enough to sleep. Unfortunately, I can't. I actually think I am going to try doing some creative writing. A story was formulating in my head last night. Its been awhile since I've done any creative writing. It might turn out to be crap but it will be fun to try writing it. Hopefully soon I will head for bed though or getting up for a walk in the morning won't happen, and I need to do that.

So here's hoping that writing will tire my brain out and allow me to head for bed. :)

Being Sherwood's mommy August 9-15

This has been a rough week. I'll just start out with that statement.

Aaron had last Monday off, and I was super grateful. He took care of Sherwood and allowed me to get some much needed rest. I love my little munchkin but he can be so draining sometimes!

Tuesday we went to the Ob/gyn. Dr. Hartmann is amazing and I was grateful that he was the doctor I was scheduled to see. We talked to him about the new pregnancy and what the steps were going to be. I am to eat 2200 calories a day (which is hard because I have troubles getting 1000 calories in a day, unless its junk). I am also supposed to try to lose some weight during the first trimester. Then during the next two trimesters I am only to gain between 11-20 pounds. That's alright with me because I have only lost about 20-25 from Sherwood's pregnancy.

Dr. Hartmann did a transvaginal ultrasound and confirmed that there is indeed a gestational sac in my uterus. It is too early though to see how far along I am. There was also some implantation bleeding, which I found interesting since I had experienced some of that two weeks prior. But he was not in the least bit concerned.

Sherwood and I ran a few errands that morning, on base. The only reason I put it here is because he discovered his thumb! It was the first time that he had managed to get his thumb, and only his thumb into his mouth to suck on. He's been trying for a while now. He loves to suck on his fist and his arm but he would be happiest if he could just get that thumb to cooperate! I was very proud. :)

Tuesday night I went to the psychiatrist. I needed to talk to her about the best way to handle my depression. If you don't know, I was diagnosed with bipolar depression a year ago. I have been fighting depression since I was a kid and have been on anti-depressants off and on since I was 17. I went off anti-depressants completely while I was pregnant with Sherwood but had a really hard time with it. It was decided that I needed to be on them while I was pregnant with Baby "A" (as we are calling it).

Wednesday night I went back to the office and talked with a therapist and was given a prescription to zoloft. The therapist said that I have a lot of issues to deal with (which I already knew) and that we needed to meet once a week for awhile at least.

The rest of the week Sherwood and I had horrible sleeping patterns. Neither of us did well sleeping at night all week. He's definitely my little night owl. Baby A has been causing me to be sick at night. It usually hits around 11 o'clock at night and then continues through the majority of the night and into the early morning. Makes it hard to sleep.

Sherwood and I were trying to take walks in the mornings. He got to ride in his stroller for the first time without the car seat and he loved it! But it has been rainy the last few days, and that combined with my lack of sleep has kept us hiding inside.

He also got to hang out in his high chair for the first time this week. I put him in his high chair on Thursday so he could sit at the table with us while we were eating. I think he really liked it. Next month he will begin eating cereal. That will be a fun adventure all on its own!

I've been experiencing all the joys of the first trimester. The fatigue, sickness, lightheadedness, moodiness (my meds haven't kicked in to help with that), the little bit of cramping, etc. But the fun part is that I am also having symptoms of the third trimester like insomnia (horrible to go with the fatigue), achiness (sciatic nerve in particular), heartburn, etc. So I have a feeling it is going to be a long pregnancy. Then again, it basically will be two years straight being pregnant with about 2 months in between.

Next week Sherwood and I go in for a WIC appointment. That ought to be fun. They will measure and weigh him though, and I am excited to see how big he has gotten. We also have an appointment with Dionne, our parents as teachers person, and I have a therapist appointment. I also need to try to get in to see my normal doc because I hurt myself by falling down the stairs a month ago and it doesn't seem to be getting better, but rather, worse. It promises to be a busy week for the two of us.

Sherwood is sleeping better though and we have gotten him on a nighttime routine. I try a daytime one but it is constantly being thwarted by one thing or another. But at least he is going to bed at a regular time every night. Hopefully soon he will stop being a night owl and will sleep through the night. Hopefully soon so will I.

And that's this week in a nutshell.

19 Minutes

I'm currently reading "19 Minutes" by Jodi Picoult. The way that she writes keeps my attention in a way that very few authors can. It is not generally my style of story (far too dramatic and tugs at the heartstrings) but I can't stop myself from getting engrossed in her writing.

As I have been reading I have began to think about myself and my child. I'm not even half way through the book, so it is safe to read the following even if you want to read the book. I promise not to spoil anything. Everything that follows can be found in a synapsis.

The book is about a school shooting. Jodi Picoult explores the world of the shooter and the victims in a way that no other person ever could. She explores the emotions that lead the shooter to do something so drastic. Picoult explores the relationships in the shooter's life, from that of his family to that of the other students at the school.

As a child I was bullied. I went through a really rough patch where life at home and at school was miserable. I experienced many of the different things that the shooter, Peter, experienced in elementary school. I also understand how hard it can be to get an adult to help in a situation of bullying.

I was fortunate, though, in the fact that I was able to start over again at a new middle school with a new group of kids who did not see me the same way that the elementary school children did. I was able to break myself from the cycle in a way that Peter was not able to do since he lived in a small town (and therefore was stuck going to school with the same group of people from preschool to high school).

Recently I worked as a teacher's assistant at an elementary school. During my two and a half years as a TA I learned how hard it is to monitor children on the playground. Far too often it was impossible to know who was actually attacking whom. Children can be so mean to one another and there is only so much that can be done to prevent it. I worked hard to protect children from bullying as much as possible, but frequently there were far too many adults for far too many children who were determined to be cruel to one another.

Now as a mother I look at the world in a completely different light. I cry at the idea of my little one going through even an ounce of the pain that I went through as a child. I pray that I can protect him from pain, shame, and suffering. I hope that I can stand there beside him and help him when he needs the help. But I fear because I know that I will not always be able to protect him. I know that I will not always be there when bad things happen and I cannot fight all of his fights for him.

The shooter in "19 Minutes," Peter, was a child once. He was a little baby who was held and loved by his mother. He was snuggled in her arms, kissed, and the tears were wiped off of his face. Jodi Picoult paints a picture of loving parents who try to protect their child, and try to do everything in their power to help him to become his best.

Something went wrong though. I still don't know where exactly or how. I don't know if Jodi Picoult will blame it on the parents, but I really don't think she will. A number of different factors went together and created an atmosphere in which Peter could not be himself.

As I read the book I can't help but thinking about what I can do to protect my son and whether or not it is possible to keep a child from growing up into a monster. Can love be enough? Is prayer enough? We dedicated Sherwood to the Lord this past Sunday. We promised to raise him in God's Word and to follow Christ. But even with a home that is filled with Christ I know that there is still a chance of turning away (my brothers and I were raised in a Christian home and I am the only one who follows Christ). Is there a way to change a child's decisions and to make sure that they will go the way that they should?

I guess the answer is no. The only thing that can be done is to raise them the best that we, as flawed humans, possibly can. To pray that God will help them to make the right decisions. To trust that God's promises will remain true. But it comes down to free choice. My son has the right to make choices the same way that I have the right to make choices. They may be right, or they may be wrong. There is no way to know which way that he will go. Its all a matter of trust and doing the best that we possibly can.

We don't plan on putting our children in public or private school. Hopefully I will be able to homeschool our children. While this will protect them from the tortures of bullying at school it can present its own problems. I can protect them from day to day tortures but by not allowing them to endure school tortures will I be making them into weak human beings who will not be able to endure real life when they are forced to enter the job force or college.

Its a lot to think about, I know. But these are the thoughts that have been running through my head as I read this book. I don't think that there are any answers to any of this. There is no manual on how to do things. Each child is different and needs to be treated differently. My biggest goal is just to do the best that I can to help my children grow into men and women who are strong enough to handle whatever life throws at them. And I'm sure that's all most parents want to do.