Children Are Born Persons

“Children are born persons.”

Charlotte Mason

I started my day thinking about this quote.  I even mentioned in passing during my morning work day.  Then, I went to run errands and grab some lunch.  I went across town to a place I often go on Mondays when I’m in town alone, because I can eat quickly and return within the hour, and because I can get a pretty good amount of vegetables on my plate at the same time.  I grabbed the workbook I’ve been moving through, thinking I might have a moment to tolerate another page or so before I have to put it down out of a sense of self-preservation.

I was surprised to have my precious waitress ask me if it was a good book!  You don’t often have people asking you about your weird psychology trauma books.  I enthusiastically showed it to her, flipping through to see how it was a workbook with lines for responses; I jokingly commented that I have so many blank places because I have seven kids, and I didn’t want to traumatize any of them if they stumbled upon it.

Then she surprised me again, with a question no one has ever directly asked me: “Since you have kids, what do you think is the best way to raise them?” After a moment’s deliberation, I responded seriously with that quote.  I told her that there’s a thing called gentle parenting, but I like to call it respect parenting.  A little hesitantly, I added,  “you know how the Bible says we ought to love our neighbor?  Well, your kid is the closest person to you.  I figure if we treat them like we want to be treated, it will all work out.” We laughed and chatted a bit more and she went about her business.

Normally I would quickly pack up and head back to the office, but I felt strongly as though I was supposed to stay longer.  I went ahead and worked through another page (ouch!) and sure enough, she came back.  “You know it’s so funny,” she says, “I pray to God and ask him to show me how is the best way to parent my kid, and this is really confirming, you know?” And with her giant, beautiful smile, she starts apologizing for being shy and awkward.  I assured her that she was doing a wonderful job, and that I was proud of her. It seemed very important to tell her those words.

Again, I went to pack up, and was rebuffed immediately in my spirit. It wasn’t time yet? I was done with my lunch, and I didn’t want to touch that workbook again. I sat, sipping on my drink with the oddest sense of urgency.

I was not even a little surprised when the waitress appeared a third time, with tears in her eyes. “It’s just that no one has ever told me that, you know?” With her permission, I hugged her, and told her those words we all need to hear:

“The Lord bless you. You’re going to be a good mom. You can do this. It’s going to be okay. Do you know how I know you will be a good Mom? Because you care. You care about being a good Mom, and that means you will be. I needed someone to tell me that, too.”

We went our separate ways with tears in our eyes, and when I sat down in my car to drive away, the little message in the fortune cookie showed me how much I’ve grown. “A person is not wise simply because one talks a lot,” my little white paper encased in cookie and cellophane declared. You see, little me reminded me of all the times I was beaten for talking too much, but the grown me who is healing reminded her how much we accomplished today by sitting and waiting with our uncomfortable feelings, and using our words to heal instead of hurt.

Book Cover: The Complex PTSD Workbook: A Mind-Body Approach to Regaining Emotional Control & Becoming Whole by Arielle Schwartz, PhD
Paper Fortune: A person is not wise simply because one talks a lot.
The book and fortune in question.

Slaughter Draweth Nigh

It’s coming soon.  This weekend, our first hog will be meeting his ultimate demise.

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He’s quite a bit bigger than he was when he was just a little shoat.  The pictures d he gravity of slaughtering animals.  (Check out the first conversation here.) On how sadness is appropriate.  On how tears are justified.  We spoke of our hope in Christ, how that we look to the blessed day when death is no longer common, but has been forever wiped away.

May our hearts always be this tender toward our stock.  The righteous man regards the life of his beast. (Proverbs 12:10)

Song for a Fifth Child, by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

–Song for a Fifth Child, by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton —

I first came across this poem at http://holyjoe.org/poetry/hamilton.htm

Why I Love My SPOC

Why I Love My SPOC

What is a SPOC, you ask? Well! It’s a Simple Piece Of Cloth. That’s right. In Indonesia, it’s called a selendang. Or a sarong. In Africa, it’s a kanga. In Mexico, it’s a rebozo. No matter what you call it, the SPOC will make your life loads easier. Not to mention that it’s cheaper than those fancy $80 things that only have one function.

What do you do with a SPOC? You throw it over your shoulder, tie it in a knot, and sling your baby! 😀

BWAHAH! Kitchen, I defeat you! I have two free hands now.

This particular SPOC is a selendang that I bought when my firstborn was still in the NICU from his three months premature arrival. I paid $20 for it, and the company I bought it from no longer carries them. BOO! However, you can easily make one yourself from a twin bedsheet. Just cut it in half lengthwise and hem the raw edge. Don’t get the fancy, heavy, 800ct cotton — the fabric will be too thick to knot up comfortably.

What Is An Incompetent Cervix?

An incompetent cervix is an affliction which goes undiagnosed until a woman has her first severely premature birth or has a history of repeated miscarriages. An incompetent cervix is unable to bear the weight of pregnancy without assistance; it’s as though the moment the baby is heavy enough to bear down on the cervix, the body says “oh! It’s time to have a baby!” The dilations of an incompetent cervix are usually painless, so they usually go unnoticed until it’s too late.

My first child was born at 27 weeks gestation, which is 13 weeks premature. They diagnosed me with an incompetent cervix. My cervix dilated so fast that it tore my low-lying placenta and ruptured my membranes, so I was hemhorraging freely. Ethan is healthy and about to be four years old.

I had a cerclage with my second pregnancy. My premature contractions with her didn’t begin until at least 32 weeks, and the cerclage didn’t budge. I was able to get to the hospital in time to receive Breathine to stop the contractions, and she wasn’t born until the week before my scheduled cesarean.

This is my third pregnancy, and I just had my cerclage performed yesterday. See previous post for details.

Cerclage Procedure {TMI Warning}

I had my cerclage done yesterday; I am at 15 weeks gestation with baby #3. I was given spinal anesthesia and requested no sedation for the procedure. The cerclage was done because of history of premature labor from an incompetent cervix.

They put a small shot in my back to numb me, and then used a very small needle for the spinal, since I had a history of spinal headache. This spinal didn’t hurt nearly as much as the last time, and the staff was very supportive. I had a dear sweet Melissa whose job was to stand by my head and talk to me during the procedure. She was very helpful in giving me something to focus on, which turned out to be instrumental in dealing with my panic episode later on — more on this in a minute.

After the shot was administered, they laid me back on the bed to begin prep for the surgery. They draped a fabric near my face, and then propped my legs up in stirrups. They checked every few minutes for the effectiveness of the anesthesia, and also used the opportunity to wash and disinfect the areas. When the anesthesia was completely effective, I could feel deep muscle pressure on my legs but no pain, and I was “paralyzed” in that I was unable to use any muscles below my belly button. Normally I handle this feeling well. At this point I started to struggle with some nausea, and heavily salivating, so they administered some Robaxin to help combat the excessive saliva.

The actual cerclage only took about 4.5 minutes, which is mildly amusing considering how many hours it took before the spinal was worn off enough to be safe to leave the hospital.

I ended up having a pretty bad panic attack in the OR after the procedure was over, because this time the anesthesia created a very intense feeling of pressure on my legs, as though they were trapped; since this creates an almost involuntary urge to kick your legs, I couldn’t seem to get my body to shush and listen to my brain, so I ended up with a hysterical episode that was short, but humiliating. I’m always distressed by my inability to stop a severe panic attack once it has begun; I’m usually good at avoiding them, but if I manage to have one, I’m pretty embarrassed at my inability to “snap out of it.” Which is silly for anyone who understands the whole concept, but when you have a nurse telling you “no no, you can’t do that,” it’s rather difficult not to be embarrassed.

Once the initial attack was over, I struggled to stave off future episodes by focusing my attention anywhere that would keep me from the the intense pressure in my legs and thus throw me into another episode. It was especially hard in the recovery room, as most people are generally asleep in here. This is where I started having trouble with nausea again, probably as a combination of the anesthesia and the severe anxiety. I also had some numbness in my hands from the hyperventilation, which disappated after an hour or so.

Every other time I’ve received spinal anesthetic, I have had hives afterward; hallelujah, this time I didn’t. Definitely a blessing.

They offered me some medication for my nausea, but since it came in waves instead of being a constant affliction, I didn’t choose to take it. They also offered to administer some Benadryl to help me sleep off the recovery time, but I chose to stay alert. I’m not sure whether this was a good decision or not, but at least it kept me in somewhat control of my mental faculties.

Once I was back into my day-surgery room, I was given some crackers and lemon-lime soda to help with the nausea. Unfortunately I vomited this, but I only had the one vomiting episode. I’m not sure if the vomiting was anxiety or medicine related, but none-the-less I felt 10x better once I had vomited. I continued to get nauseated with head movement, and light-headed, so they kept me in the hospital probably more hours than they would have if I hadn’t had the reaction.

When I had finally eaten enough saltines to combat my low sodium and sugar levels (no food or drink since 10pm the night before), they gave me some chicken soup. This helped immensely with the nausea and lightheadedness, so I’m thinking that it was my sodium that was the problem. I’ve been craving salty foods periodically and having low BP symptoms, so the nurse agreed that it was probably the case.

The ride home was very bumpy and nausea promoting 😛 I survived, though. I took a three hour nap when I got home, and slept 8 hours last night. My light bleeding has pretty much stopped, so except for the fatigue and menstrual-type soreness, I have no residual effects.

Thanks for listening, and I hope this helps any of you who will need the procedure in future.