"He's such a good baby." Something we all want to hear, right? But the opposite of good is bad and how can a baby be bad? I may be thinking about this too much, but indulge me for a second...
I admit that we have been blessed with a baby that doesn't have colic. I know parents that have colicky babies have momentary incendiary thoughts of throwing their babies against a wall to make it stop...(yes, I said it...it's true, but rarely talked about). A baby that's experiencing discomfort to the point of constant screaming isn't a bad baby, they're just having a really hard time and we're helpless to fix it.
I want to challenge our labeling children as "good." All kids are inherently good and pure...gifts from God. How about we challenge ourselves to really think about their positive characteristics instead of lazily letting the word "good" come out of our mouths? I've caught myself doing it and I really have to slow down in order to share that Ray is "joyous," "happy," "smiley," "curious," and "healthy."
Just like it's been brought to our attention that there are positive ways to talk to girls to reinforce the value of their minds rather than the importance of their looks (describing them as smart instead of pretty, asking them what they're reading, what their favorite book is, what their favorite subject is in school, etc.), I think it's important as a new generation of parents that we're conscious of how we're labeling our children.
What do you think?
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Get Lucky
Imagine an absurdly tight green T-shirt on a guy you've never met, emblazoned with a leprechaun, several four leaf clovers, and the words GET LUCKY. It's St. Patrick's Day and this man has just waltzed into your house with a six pack of beer in hand, sporting what I can only describe as a green plaid cabbie's cap. As he approaches the friendly faces around the kitchen, the first words out of his mouth are, "Hey guys. Note to self...when buying a T-shirt, you might want to try it on first." His eyes are kind, emanating a mischievous sparkle as he lets out this wonderfully contagious laugh. Little did I know that this stranger, this self-proclaimed tight T-shirt wearer would one day be my husband.
This is the story of how Rich and I met.
In 2008, I purchased a beautiful, fully restored Queen Anne Victorian in the diverse (meaning sometimes hip, sometimes scary) neighborhood of East Nashville. I'd been living in a townhouse my ex-husband and I purchased in 2004 in the coveted 12th South neighborhood, but I felt it was time for a change. I wanted a place where I could entertain, that was open and inviting, had character, but was still modern. After looking at several possibilities with no spark, the minute I walked into this house, I knew it was the one. Amazingly tall ceilings, crown molding, white oak floors throughout, a coffered ceiling in the kitchen, three brick fireplaces, stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, a huge backyard with a lot of possibility....wow.
Two hard working gentleman about my age, Shane and Chris, had taken the property on as a real estate investment, looking to renovate it with the thought that Shane and his wife would move in. Because of this, the house wasn't your typical flip. They took great care with the details and there was obvious pride in their work. They were extremely smart and resourceful-- in fact, they came into some perfectly good granite that a snooty high-rise development downtown wouldn't use due to some silly, barely noticeable imperfections. These guys took that granite off their hands for FREE.
During the months the guys worked on the house, they befriended the guy across the street. That guy, Dave, is Rich's best friend from college. When the guys came into this granite, they were looking for someone that could help them cut and install it. In talking to Dave about it, he immediately thought of Rich. Although he was currently in the depths of running his own steel fabrication business, he was in the granite business for about three months years earlier....hmmmm....would Rich be willing to help?
Although open minded and ever willing to lend a hand, Rich wouldn't agree to help until he saw the project-- would it be worth his time? Upon stepping through the front door, he was so impressed that he wished he could buy the house. Of course he would help! So, Rich showed the guys how to cut the granite and helped them install it. He also engineered several other items in the house and became friends with Shane and Chris.
Flash forward to March 17th, 2008. Closing day. Upon signing the 100th piece of paper and promising my first born to Countrywide (ha! joke's on them!), Shane shared with me that they were having a St. Patty's Day party at my house and asked if I would like to come. (I know this sounds strange, but since I wasn't ready to move out of my townhouse right away and Shane and his wife needed someplace to rent, we brilliantly decided to switch places, with a move in date in April.) People that worked on the house and neighbors would be in attendance. I happily accepted, looking forward to meeting new faces.
Of course, I had to have my wing women, so I asked my two best friends to join me. Looking back, I love that two of my nearest and dearest were there to witness me meeting my future husband!
After flirting a little at the house party, I rolled with Rich and some other folks to 3 Crow Bar in Five Points. It was there that Rich talked of WWII (thus learning that he had his private pilot's license...very sexy) and bought us Irish car bombs. He wasn't the kind of guy I usually went out with (not a musician or starving artist which was my preference for years after my divorce), but there was just something about him I couldn't ignore.
After years of fielding the singles scene, I had sworn off accepting a date invitation by text. I mean, who texts to ask a girl out?! If you're really into me, pick up the phone and call me damnit. But rules were made to be broken right? The very next day, Rich texted, asking me if I wanted to go to dinner. We made plans for the following night. Thank goodness I made an exception to the "do not ask me out by text" rule!
We closed the restaurant down on that first date talking, laughing and really connecting. Rich felt so comfortable to me, like I could breathe in and let my shoulders relax for the first time in years. I left to go on a hard-earned President Club's Trip to Mexico that Sunday and we talked on the phone every single day. My friend Jessica laughed and said, "He must be really into you because guys don't like to talk on the phone that much." She was right. He really did like me. And I really liked him. Our conversations were worth every penny of that subsequent $400 cell phone bill. He's been an integral part of my life ever since.
We now live in the house the brought us together. We have a beautiful son, two cats, a dog, wonderful neighbors, an ever-expanding circle of friends, and a whole lot of love for each other. He is my best friend and soul mate. I am so thankful for the convergence of forces that brought us together.
This Saturday marks four years of that fateful meeting. We celebrate every year by hosting friends at our house with a traditional Irish meal, libations, music and a lot of laughs. This year will be no exception. In fact, we're looking forward to getting Ray into his celebratory green onesie.
Rich, I love you. Happy 4th Anniversary, babe.
This is the story of how Rich and I met.
In 2008, I purchased a beautiful, fully restored Queen Anne Victorian in the diverse (meaning sometimes hip, sometimes scary) neighborhood of East Nashville. I'd been living in a townhouse my ex-husband and I purchased in 2004 in the coveted 12th South neighborhood, but I felt it was time for a change. I wanted a place where I could entertain, that was open and inviting, had character, but was still modern. After looking at several possibilities with no spark, the minute I walked into this house, I knew it was the one. Amazingly tall ceilings, crown molding, white oak floors throughout, a coffered ceiling in the kitchen, three brick fireplaces, stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, a huge backyard with a lot of possibility....wow.
Two hard working gentleman about my age, Shane and Chris, had taken the property on as a real estate investment, looking to renovate it with the thought that Shane and his wife would move in. Because of this, the house wasn't your typical flip. They took great care with the details and there was obvious pride in their work. They were extremely smart and resourceful-- in fact, they came into some perfectly good granite that a snooty high-rise development downtown wouldn't use due to some silly, barely noticeable imperfections. These guys took that granite off their hands for FREE.
During the months the guys worked on the house, they befriended the guy across the street. That guy, Dave, is Rich's best friend from college. When the guys came into this granite, they were looking for someone that could help them cut and install it. In talking to Dave about it, he immediately thought of Rich. Although he was currently in the depths of running his own steel fabrication business, he was in the granite business for about three months years earlier....hmmmm....would Rich be willing to help?
Although open minded and ever willing to lend a hand, Rich wouldn't agree to help until he saw the project-- would it be worth his time? Upon stepping through the front door, he was so impressed that he wished he could buy the house. Of course he would help! So, Rich showed the guys how to cut the granite and helped them install it. He also engineered several other items in the house and became friends with Shane and Chris.
Flash forward to March 17th, 2008. Closing day. Upon signing the 100th piece of paper and promising my first born to Countrywide (ha! joke's on them!), Shane shared with me that they were having a St. Patty's Day party at my house and asked if I would like to come. (I know this sounds strange, but since I wasn't ready to move out of my townhouse right away and Shane and his wife needed someplace to rent, we brilliantly decided to switch places, with a move in date in April.) People that worked on the house and neighbors would be in attendance. I happily accepted, looking forward to meeting new faces.
Of course, I had to have my wing women, so I asked my two best friends to join me. Looking back, I love that two of my nearest and dearest were there to witness me meeting my future husband!
After flirting a little at the house party, I rolled with Rich and some other folks to 3 Crow Bar in Five Points. It was there that Rich talked of WWII (thus learning that he had his private pilot's license...very sexy) and bought us Irish car bombs. He wasn't the kind of guy I usually went out with (not a musician or starving artist which was my preference for years after my divorce), but there was just something about him I couldn't ignore.
After years of fielding the singles scene, I had sworn off accepting a date invitation by text. I mean, who texts to ask a girl out?! If you're really into me, pick up the phone and call me damnit. But rules were made to be broken right? The very next day, Rich texted, asking me if I wanted to go to dinner. We made plans for the following night. Thank goodness I made an exception to the "do not ask me out by text" rule!
We closed the restaurant down on that first date talking, laughing and really connecting. Rich felt so comfortable to me, like I could breathe in and let my shoulders relax for the first time in years. I left to go on a hard-earned President Club's Trip to Mexico that Sunday and we talked on the phone every single day. My friend Jessica laughed and said, "He must be really into you because guys don't like to talk on the phone that much." She was right. He really did like me. And I really liked him. Our conversations were worth every penny of that subsequent $400 cell phone bill. He's been an integral part of my life ever since.
We now live in the house the brought us together. We have a beautiful son, two cats, a dog, wonderful neighbors, an ever-expanding circle of friends, and a whole lot of love for each other. He is my best friend and soul mate. I am so thankful for the convergence of forces that brought us together.
This Saturday marks four years of that fateful meeting. We celebrate every year by hosting friends at our house with a traditional Irish meal, libations, music and a lot of laughs. This year will be no exception. In fact, we're looking forward to getting Ray into his celebratory green onesie.
Rich, I love you. Happy 4th Anniversary, babe.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Because of Sarah
Rich's best friend from college lives across the street. Essentially, he's the reason we met in the first place, but that's a story for another time (it's a good one though!). He met the most amazing woman New Year's Day 2010 and we now have the honor and privilege of calling her our friend and neighbor. You know those rare instances where you feel an instant connection with someone, that you just KNOW you're on the same wavelength? Well, Sarah is one of those people and I feel so good every time I spend time with her.
Sarah is a writer and with her innate inquiring mind, she asks the greatest questions. While pregnant and glowing, she asked why I thought my pregnancy was going so well. There were several things I listed off and after some additional probing, we moved on to another topic.
During a walk with her today, soaking up this incredible (yet freaky) springtime weather, she reminded me to blog about what I shared with her. I know every woman is different and they experience pregnancy in their own way, but I have to tell you, I LOVED being pregnant. (This is where those of you that had difficult pregnancies and really don't want to read my somewhat Pollyanna take on being a vessel for life can hit the little x at the top of your browser.)
Here is what I believe contributed to such a positive pregnancy experience for me:
Sarah is a writer and with her innate inquiring mind, she asks the greatest questions. While pregnant and glowing, she asked why I thought my pregnancy was going so well. There were several things I listed off and after some additional probing, we moved on to another topic.
During a walk with her today, soaking up this incredible (yet freaky) springtime weather, she reminded me to blog about what I shared with her. I know every woman is different and they experience pregnancy in their own way, but I have to tell you, I LOVED being pregnant. (This is where those of you that had difficult pregnancies and really don't want to read my somewhat Pollyanna take on being a vessel for life can hit the little x at the top of your browser.)
Here is what I believe contributed to such a positive pregnancy experience for me:
- I am married to the most incredibly supportive husband and we were both in absolute agreement that we wanted to start a family. He did whatever I asked of him (such as finishing projects to ease my ever increasing nesting anxiety, going to weeks of Bradley birthing classes, being open-minded to a home birth, letting me bring a new furry family member into our home....the list could go on and on!). As far as husbands go, I really lucked out.
- I took supplements daily-- prenatal vitamins, omega 3s (sooooo important to get DHA for healthy brain development in babes!), vitamin D, calcium/magnesium (this helped tremendously with the night leg cramping) and the all important probiotics (helps ward off Group B strep and starts you and baby on the road to preventing thrush if you're breastfeeding).
- I religiously saw my acupuncturist. I see an amazing woman that specializes in helping women become pregnant, guiding them through pregnancy and helping them recover postpartum. Peggy at Five Element Acupuncture in Berry Hill has kept me balanced throughout what I know can be the biggest roller coaster ride of a woman's life.
- We hired a doula and we absolutely adore her. Not only was Jolynn an amazing birth partner (helping us prepare and guiding us through the labor process), she gives the most incredibly healing massages and incorporates energy work into the mix. I saw her once a month for a massage my entire pregnancy and I think this is why I never experienced the kind of aches and pains that a lot of women experience.
- Pet therapy. Seriously. We adopted a little dog, Milo, when I was in my 4th month and he's such a little comedian. That dog kept me smiling and laughing throughout my pregnancy. So much so that when we got to our birthing house and my contractions really started intensifying, I said to Rich in a whimper, "I miss Milo."
- I didn't drive myself crazy with too much information. I didn't read What to Expect When You're Expecting. I stuck to devouring empowering birth stories from Spiritual Midwifery and anything else written by Ina May Gaskin. Rich and I also read a book that showed Ray's development week by week. That was it. By limiting my intake of information, I was able to stay relaxed and keep positive.
- I wasn't freaked out about consuming caffeine or having the occasional drink. I kept my caffeine to one cup of coffee a day and after my first trimester, I did have the occasional glass of wine.
- We empowered ourselves to make our own decisions regarding how we wanted our son to come into the world. This required a lot of research on our part and being incredibly open minded, but what transpired with our home birth experience with The Farm Midwives was more than we could have hoped for.
- I felt the loving, reassurance presence of my grandmother throughout my pregnancy. I was very close to my father's mother and when she passed in 2009, I missed her sooo much. Still do. My beloved grandfather passed one month after her. They were the stuff old love stories are made of-- met on a blind date, married one month later, stayed married for 65 years "until death do we part." It was because of her that we named our son Ray, after her father-- Ray Erwin. I think she smiles down on us daily.
I'm so thankful for friends like Sarah. Because of her, I was able to really reflect on this experience with gratitude. Hopefully, there are little tidbits in here that could help another expectant mother.
Sarah, I look forward to the day when that expectant mother is you.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Fairies and Angels and Pumps...Oh My!
When the Boob Fairy came to visit, I had no idea what I was in for. Our midwife, Joanne, jokingly said the Boob Fairy would come to visit me between Day 3 and 4 after Ray was born and boy was she right! I literally watched my boobs grow before my very eyes. Porn star style. But these boobs were NOT sexy. Yes, they were huge, but they were painful. Very painful. Engorged with the new milk my body was quickly and efficiently producing, Joanne said that the body doesn't know if it's producing milk for one, two, or three or more babies, so it just produces A LOT until your baby starts to regulate the supply.
And then there's figuring out the all important latch. Unfortunately, on the day he was born, I let Ray feed with a horrific, gumming, chewing latch that left me in tears wailing the words..."This isn't sustainable!" I was wondering how in the hell women do this! And some do it for years...what the hell?!
Then, the Boob Angel entered into my life. Our wonderful doula, Jolynn Lewis, left us the number of a lactation consultant before she left, telling me how awesome she was and that she answered the phone at any time night or day. So, at 10:30pm I got the Boob Angel on speaker phone, hoping she could walk me off the ledge. It took THREE of us to figure out how to get Ray to latch properly (me, Rich and our good friend Stephanie that played the role of our postpartum doula). Rich jokes that it was like trying to diagnose the engine failure of an off-road vehicle while at the top of a snow covered mountain-- it felt as if our lives depended upon figuring this out! When the proper latch was achieved, I sighed in relief and we all felt like we had accomplished something momentous!
The Boob Angel, Jackie Randolph, visited for an in-home consultation after we returned home from our birthing house. After watching Ray nurse, it appeared we were on the right track. After days of icing my boobs down after feeding, massaging them to help prevent duct blockages and compressing them to move the milk down at every feeding, my supply finally regulated and my boobs were no longer frighteningly large. So, Ray and I settled into feeding every three hours. That's eight feedings per day totaling five plus hours per day.
Thus, breastfeeding became my full time job in addition to consuming enough calories to maintain my milk supply. I know that eating high calorie foods without guilt sounds fun, but honestly, it's been hard for me to not only find the time, but to eat that much. And for those of you that know me, I LOVE food, but I've never been one to snack throughout the day or emotionally eat, so getting enough calories each day has been tough. Thankfully, when family's been in town to help, it's been much easier to get the calorie intake I need, but left to my own devices, I have to make sure that the right foods are pre-prepared and high calorie snacks are at the ready.
Unfortunately, at our well-baby check up last week, it turned out that Ray still hadn't gotten back to his birth weight of 8 pounds. He weighed in at 7 lbs, 8 oz...a half pound shy of his birth weight and behind where he needed to be. (Apparently, most babies achieve their birth weight after about two weeks.) All in all, our doctor wasn't too concerned because Ray was well hydrated and not jaundiced, but instead of feeding every three hours, she recommended we switch to an "on demand" schedule. He began feeding about every 2 hours (that's 12 feedings per day!) and at times, he would cluster feed (which means that you could be feeding for up to 2 hours at a time! Holy hell.). I felt that I was doing everything I could to help the situation and sure enough, at our weigh in today, he's up to 7 lbs, 12 oz, but again, still not up to birth weight.
So, we called in reinforcements and I'm working with the Boob Angel again. Enter the breast pump. This thing is a trip....and I thought I felt like a diary cow before now! We're trying to increase my supply, so I've started pumping after each feeding. What's crazy about the body is that it responds to the demand. So, even if there's not a ton of milk coming through the pump right now, I should see a huge difference in 48 to 72 hours.
This breastfeeding thing is serious shit. No joke. I realize that the benefits of breastfeeding well outweigh the challenges, but amazingly, I think it's been harder for me than having a natural childbirth. I was soooo ready emotionally and mentally to have a natural childbirth, but nothing could have prepared me for how difficult breastfeeding has been for me.
However, on the upside, similar to my pregnancy license, I think we nursing Moms have a breastfeeding license. This means is that we can whip out our boobs when necessary because it's all in the name of nourishing our babies. Case in point, last weekend, I had to nurse Ray at our friend Dave's house. Is pulling out my boob in his living room something I would have EVER done before? Uh, no. (Dave is Rich's best friend from college! Awkwaaarrrrd.) But now that I'm my baby's sole source of sustenance, it's no problem. Of course, I try to remember that not everyone has gotten as comfortable with my nipples as I have (Cover up Kara!), but it's been really freeing to do what I have to do when I have to do it. After all, it's for my sweet baby boy and despite how frustrated I've been with this process, he's totally worth it.
And then there's figuring out the all important latch. Unfortunately, on the day he was born, I let Ray feed with a horrific, gumming, chewing latch that left me in tears wailing the words..."This isn't sustainable!" I was wondering how in the hell women do this! And some do it for years...what the hell?!
Then, the Boob Angel entered into my life. Our wonderful doula, Jolynn Lewis, left us the number of a lactation consultant before she left, telling me how awesome she was and that she answered the phone at any time night or day. So, at 10:30pm I got the Boob Angel on speaker phone, hoping she could walk me off the ledge. It took THREE of us to figure out how to get Ray to latch properly (me, Rich and our good friend Stephanie that played the role of our postpartum doula). Rich jokes that it was like trying to diagnose the engine failure of an off-road vehicle while at the top of a snow covered mountain-- it felt as if our lives depended upon figuring this out! When the proper latch was achieved, I sighed in relief and we all felt like we had accomplished something momentous!
The Boob Angel, Jackie Randolph, visited for an in-home consultation after we returned home from our birthing house. After watching Ray nurse, it appeared we were on the right track. After days of icing my boobs down after feeding, massaging them to help prevent duct blockages and compressing them to move the milk down at every feeding, my supply finally regulated and my boobs were no longer frighteningly large. So, Ray and I settled into feeding every three hours. That's eight feedings per day totaling five plus hours per day.
Thus, breastfeeding became my full time job in addition to consuming enough calories to maintain my milk supply. I know that eating high calorie foods without guilt sounds fun, but honestly, it's been hard for me to not only find the time, but to eat that much. And for those of you that know me, I LOVE food, but I've never been one to snack throughout the day or emotionally eat, so getting enough calories each day has been tough. Thankfully, when family's been in town to help, it's been much easier to get the calorie intake I need, but left to my own devices, I have to make sure that the right foods are pre-prepared and high calorie snacks are at the ready.
Unfortunately, at our well-baby check up last week, it turned out that Ray still hadn't gotten back to his birth weight of 8 pounds. He weighed in at 7 lbs, 8 oz...a half pound shy of his birth weight and behind where he needed to be. (Apparently, most babies achieve their birth weight after about two weeks.) All in all, our doctor wasn't too concerned because Ray was well hydrated and not jaundiced, but instead of feeding every three hours, she recommended we switch to an "on demand" schedule. He began feeding about every 2 hours (that's 12 feedings per day!) and at times, he would cluster feed (which means that you could be feeding for up to 2 hours at a time! Holy hell.). I felt that I was doing everything I could to help the situation and sure enough, at our weigh in today, he's up to 7 lbs, 12 oz, but again, still not up to birth weight.
So, we called in reinforcements and I'm working with the Boob Angel again. Enter the breast pump. This thing is a trip....and I thought I felt like a diary cow before now! We're trying to increase my supply, so I've started pumping after each feeding. What's crazy about the body is that it responds to the demand. So, even if there's not a ton of milk coming through the pump right now, I should see a huge difference in 48 to 72 hours.
This breastfeeding thing is serious shit. No joke. I realize that the benefits of breastfeeding well outweigh the challenges, but amazingly, I think it's been harder for me than having a natural childbirth. I was soooo ready emotionally and mentally to have a natural childbirth, but nothing could have prepared me for how difficult breastfeeding has been for me.
However, on the upside, similar to my pregnancy license, I think we nursing Moms have a breastfeeding license. This means is that we can whip out our boobs when necessary because it's all in the name of nourishing our babies. Case in point, last weekend, I had to nurse Ray at our friend Dave's house. Is pulling out my boob in his living room something I would have EVER done before? Uh, no. (Dave is Rich's best friend from college! Awkwaaarrrrd.) But now that I'm my baby's sole source of sustenance, it's no problem. Of course, I try to remember that not everyone has gotten as comfortable with my nipples as I have (Cover up Kara!), but it's been really freeing to do what I have to do when I have to do it. After all, it's for my sweet baby boy and despite how frustrated I've been with this process, he's totally worth it.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Human mistake or Holy miracle?
After much waiting, we heard on Thursday that Ray's test results for PKU came back normal. In processing our experience, I really felt compelled to ask the specialist why they took the approach with us that they did. Going from blood from the newborn screening test, they discussed Ray's condition in the affirmative without having a confirmed diagnosis. Why was that? Wouldn't a more logical, conservative approach be something along the lines of..."Come on in, let's retest him, we'll see what comes back and we'll take it from there...but in the interim, do you have any questions?" I understand that Vanderbilt is a teaching and research hospital, so maybe that has something to do with it, but the whole experience left us feeling like we'd been slammed into airborne debris due to the wrath of a tornado.
So, when Natalie called to share that the third and final test was normal, I asked her "How many false positives have you encountered?" Astonishingly, in her four plus years of experience, she's only seen one other false positive and that was with a patient they were already treating. They've NEVER seen a false positive with an outpatient. We're the first. Wow. In learning this, I guess I have to give Natalie and the over eager team the benefit of the doubt. If they've only seen one other false positive in over four years, then I can see why they took the approach that they did.
We quickly spread the good news to family and friends along with this mind-blowing news about the rarity of Ray's case. My brother-in-law's response really got me thinking...Was this purely a human mistake or could this be a Holy miracle? Did Ray have PKU and by the grace of God, through all the prayers that were lifted, did God take this disorder away from my son? Or is it just a statistical outlier?
I wouldn't call myself a religious person. I haven't been to church consistently since I was a child and I had a born again experience in college that was short-lived. However, I do consider myself a spiritual person and a firm believer in miracles. Is this God's way of showing us His power and love for us?
What do you think? Have you ever experienced a miracle and felt God's hand in it?
So, when Natalie called to share that the third and final test was normal, I asked her "How many false positives have you encountered?" Astonishingly, in her four plus years of experience, she's only seen one other false positive and that was with a patient they were already treating. They've NEVER seen a false positive with an outpatient. We're the first. Wow. In learning this, I guess I have to give Natalie and the over eager team the benefit of the doubt. If they've only seen one other false positive in over four years, then I can see why they took the approach that they did.
We quickly spread the good news to family and friends along with this mind-blowing news about the rarity of Ray's case. My brother-in-law's response really got me thinking...Was this purely a human mistake or could this be a Holy miracle? Did Ray have PKU and by the grace of God, through all the prayers that were lifted, did God take this disorder away from my son? Or is it just a statistical outlier?
I wouldn't call myself a religious person. I haven't been to church consistently since I was a child and I had a born again experience in college that was short-lived. However, I do consider myself a spiritual person and a firm believer in miracles. Is this God's way of showing us His power and love for us?
What do you think? Have you ever experienced a miracle and felt God's hand in it?
Sunday, January 22, 2012
PKU...
...stands for Phenylketonuria. (Yeah, try and say that three times fast!) Because Ms. McDavid was such a phenomenal AP Biology teacher in high school, when we got the call on Friday from Vanderbilt Children's Hospital saying that Ray's newborn screening for PKU came back abnormal, I was able to recall a few things. Genetic disorder...missing an enzyme that processes phenylalanine...warnings on yogurt, gum, Diet Coke...but, that's about it.
This sweet-voiced woman on the other end of the phone said that we needed to retest Ray for PKU and could we come in at 4pm? We'd get the results back that day. After a quick feeding and with my pulses racing, Rich, my mother and I got the diaper bag packed (which we subsequently forgot in our haste), snuggled Ray in his carrier and got on the road to the Children's Hospital.
My mind was racing and I was freaking out. Our midwife said that the heel stick test she did sometimes needed to be redone, so wasn't that just the case here? My Mom assured me there was nothing to worry about.
Upon arriving, I'm immediately feeling resentful because a hospital environment is exactly what I didn't want for Ray. I'm irrationally envisioning germs everywhere, dancing around my newborn.
We check in and are met with a triage nurse that weighs Ray, takes his measurements, etc. Even though she's nice as can be, I'm immediately annoyed. She starts telling us that they work with PKU families all the time and she would be seeing a lot of us. Then she starts oozing compliments about the PKU specialist, Natalie-- how sweet she is, how she's a new Mom too...my mind just can't wrap around what she was saying. I mean, weren't we just here to retest?! Ray didn't have this for sure, right?
From there, we go into an examining room and Natalie comes in. Cherubic-faced with long dark hair and beautiful blue eyes, she calmly starts to walk us through what PKU is, the metabolic biology of it all, what happens if left untreated, pathways for treatment, etc. Again, like the triage nurse, she's talking in affirmative, telling us about support groups and a local Foundation that was formed several years ago by PKU parents. All I could think is, "WTF?! This is all happening so fast! My son is healthy. Just look at him!"
Babies with PKU cannot process phenylalanine (we'll call it phe for short), thus turning it into tyrosine. A normal level of phe in you and I would be 1 and a normal level of tyrosine would also be 1. For individuals with PKU, their levels range from 2-6 for a mild case and 6+ for a more severe or "classic" case. Turns out, the heel stick test they received yielded a level of 2.7 of phe in Ray's blood. If left untreated, the high levels of phe cause brain damage and lead to mental retardation. (For more information on PKU, see this comprehensive March of Dimes article.)
When we ask Natalie if the results could be wrong, she says she rarely sees a false positive. I'm dumbfounded, completely overwhelmed. I understand that this is a treatable disease through a special diet, but how can this be?! PKU occurs in about 1 in 25,000 births, so how is it Rich and I could have passed this on? Turns out both parents have to be carriers and off-spring have a 1 in 4 chance of inheriting the disorder.
Natalie asks if we have questions, but I can't process. Dietitians are brought in and introduce themselves with big, toothy smiles, saying "We'll be seeing a lot of you"...but I'm thinking, "I don't want to see a lot of you!" A bright neon sign is flashing through my mind-- SPECIAL NEEDS---over and over again. We have a child with special needs? How can this be? What about when he goes to daycare? What about school? What about his teenage years and into adulthood?
They need to take blood from his tiny arm, so Rich goes with Natalie to have that done while I stay in the examining room with my Mom, crying my eyes out. Turns out they tried one arm only to have to draw blood from the other, so he came back with two tiny band-aids on both arms. When they come back, I try my best to keep it together. Ray must know that I'm having a really hard time, so he provides some comic relief by farting loudly as if on cue several times.
Right before leaving, Natalie comes back to tell us that the machine that processes the blood samples only processes ONE sample at a time and it takes 2.5 to 3 hours. Unfortunately, the machine is acting up and while we were initially told we would know the results that evening, it looked like we wouldn't know until the next day.
That night, I'm spent. Rich is too. I have a pounding headache that wouldn't go away. My eyes are swollen from so much crying. We are still processing. We alert friends and family as to what's going on and immediately, prayers are unleashed into the Universe.
The next morning, we try to remain present and in the moment while awaiting the call from Vanderbilt. We don't hear from Natalie until about 10:30am only to get news that the machine is still acting up and we probably won't hear word until Monday. Sigh. How is it in this age of technology that test results can take 48 to 72 hours to process when I can mail a letter and have it get to its destination in less time?!
Fully expecting to hear from Natalie on Monday, on Sunday evening we're surprised to see the Vanderbilt number show up on my phone. With my heart racing, we put the call on speaker and to our cascading relief, the results came back NORMAL! OMG. I immediately cry in relief and a tangible shift of energy radiates throughout the room....ahhhhh. Wow. I guess we're one of the rare cases of a false positive! We were instructed to come back to do blood work for a third time just to be sure, but we're feeling extremely positive that sweet, brave baby Ray does NOT have PKU.
All of this has left us light, jubilant and incredibly thankful. I know that if he did have a positive reading for PKU that Rich and I are uniquely equipped to handle such a challenge, to embrace it, learn from it and do whatever we would need to do for the health of our son. However, we are sooooo grateful that this is one challenge that we don't have to face. This roller coaster of an experience has only brought us closer together as a family and has reconnected us to the power of prayer and the undying support of our friends and family.
To everyone that prayed for us, THANK YOU. We felt your prayers lifting us up these past 48 hours. Your thoughtfulness, compassion and love means more to us than you will ever know.
This sweet-voiced woman on the other end of the phone said that we needed to retest Ray for PKU and could we come in at 4pm? We'd get the results back that day. After a quick feeding and with my pulses racing, Rich, my mother and I got the diaper bag packed (which we subsequently forgot in our haste), snuggled Ray in his carrier and got on the road to the Children's Hospital.
My mind was racing and I was freaking out. Our midwife said that the heel stick test she did sometimes needed to be redone, so wasn't that just the case here? My Mom assured me there was nothing to worry about.
Upon arriving, I'm immediately feeling resentful because a hospital environment is exactly what I didn't want for Ray. I'm irrationally envisioning germs everywhere, dancing around my newborn.
We check in and are met with a triage nurse that weighs Ray, takes his measurements, etc. Even though she's nice as can be, I'm immediately annoyed. She starts telling us that they work with PKU families all the time and she would be seeing a lot of us. Then she starts oozing compliments about the PKU specialist, Natalie-- how sweet she is, how she's a new Mom too...my mind just can't wrap around what she was saying. I mean, weren't we just here to retest?! Ray didn't have this for sure, right?
From there, we go into an examining room and Natalie comes in. Cherubic-faced with long dark hair and beautiful blue eyes, she calmly starts to walk us through what PKU is, the metabolic biology of it all, what happens if left untreated, pathways for treatment, etc. Again, like the triage nurse, she's talking in affirmative, telling us about support groups and a local Foundation that was formed several years ago by PKU parents. All I could think is, "WTF?! This is all happening so fast! My son is healthy. Just look at him!"
Babies with PKU cannot process phenylalanine (we'll call it phe for short), thus turning it into tyrosine. A normal level of phe in you and I would be 1 and a normal level of tyrosine would also be 1. For individuals with PKU, their levels range from 2-6 for a mild case and 6+ for a more severe or "classic" case. Turns out, the heel stick test they received yielded a level of 2.7 of phe in Ray's blood. If left untreated, the high levels of phe cause brain damage and lead to mental retardation. (For more information on PKU, see this comprehensive March of Dimes article.)
When we ask Natalie if the results could be wrong, she says she rarely sees a false positive. I'm dumbfounded, completely overwhelmed. I understand that this is a treatable disease through a special diet, but how can this be?! PKU occurs in about 1 in 25,000 births, so how is it Rich and I could have passed this on? Turns out both parents have to be carriers and off-spring have a 1 in 4 chance of inheriting the disorder.
Natalie asks if we have questions, but I can't process. Dietitians are brought in and introduce themselves with big, toothy smiles, saying "We'll be seeing a lot of you"...but I'm thinking, "I don't want to see a lot of you!" A bright neon sign is flashing through my mind-- SPECIAL NEEDS---over and over again. We have a child with special needs? How can this be? What about when he goes to daycare? What about school? What about his teenage years and into adulthood?
They need to take blood from his tiny arm, so Rich goes with Natalie to have that done while I stay in the examining room with my Mom, crying my eyes out. Turns out they tried one arm only to have to draw blood from the other, so he came back with two tiny band-aids on both arms. When they come back, I try my best to keep it together. Ray must know that I'm having a really hard time, so he provides some comic relief by farting loudly as if on cue several times.
Right before leaving, Natalie comes back to tell us that the machine that processes the blood samples only processes ONE sample at a time and it takes 2.5 to 3 hours. Unfortunately, the machine is acting up and while we were initially told we would know the results that evening, it looked like we wouldn't know until the next day.
That night, I'm spent. Rich is too. I have a pounding headache that wouldn't go away. My eyes are swollen from so much crying. We are still processing. We alert friends and family as to what's going on and immediately, prayers are unleashed into the Universe.
The next morning, we try to remain present and in the moment while awaiting the call from Vanderbilt. We don't hear from Natalie until about 10:30am only to get news that the machine is still acting up and we probably won't hear word until Monday. Sigh. How is it in this age of technology that test results can take 48 to 72 hours to process when I can mail a letter and have it get to its destination in less time?!
Fully expecting to hear from Natalie on Monday, on Sunday evening we're surprised to see the Vanderbilt number show up on my phone. With my heart racing, we put the call on speaker and to our cascading relief, the results came back NORMAL! OMG. I immediately cry in relief and a tangible shift of energy radiates throughout the room....ahhhhh. Wow. I guess we're one of the rare cases of a false positive! We were instructed to come back to do blood work for a third time just to be sure, but we're feeling extremely positive that sweet, brave baby Ray does NOT have PKU.
All of this has left us light, jubilant and incredibly thankful. I know that if he did have a positive reading for PKU that Rich and I are uniquely equipped to handle such a challenge, to embrace it, learn from it and do whatever we would need to do for the health of our son. However, we are sooooo grateful that this is one challenge that we don't have to face. This roller coaster of an experience has only brought us closer together as a family and has reconnected us to the power of prayer and the undying support of our friends and family.
To everyone that prayed for us, THANK YOU. We felt your prayers lifting us up these past 48 hours. Your thoughtfulness, compassion and love means more to us than you will ever know.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Birth Story: Raymond Russell Teising
Our beautiful son, Raymond Russell Teising, was born Saturday, January 14, 2012 (his due date!) at 1:32am weighing 8 pounds and measuring 21 inches long. If you've been following my blog, you know that Rich and I opted for a natural home birth experience with The Farm Midwives and this is the play by play of how our son came into the world.
My last prenatal appointment was Wednesday the 11th and I was dilated about 1/2 cm. Over the next couple of days, things started changing and I just felt different. Contractions started in the wee hours on Friday and by noon we were at our birthing house in Hampshire, TN in the care of our midwife, Joanne Santata. Upon arriving, I got checked and was only 1 cm dilated. Sigh. We were encouraged to settle into our birthing house, walk, and rest. By 9pm, I was only 3 cm dilated. This was after hours of contractions and I was incredibly frustrated (active labor begins at 4cm). Joanne encouraged us to try and get some sleep because contractions often let up during the night.
After she left, the contractions did not slow down. In fact, they were increasing in intensity and I thought, "How in the hell do people sleep through this?!" By 10:30pm, I was in desperate need for our doula to be with us, so Rich called Jolynn Lewis and she arrived a little before 11:30pm. Joanne checked me again and I was at 4 cm. Really?! I was still fighting the contractions and through Jolynn's gentle coaching and my sweet husband letting me grab him in places that were extremely uncomfortable for him, I decided to really let go...just to embrace the process-- all the messiness, pain, discomfort, and raw animal behavior that was coming out of me. From then on, I felt like Rocky. I was bound and determined to get this baby out of me!
At 12:45pm, I was checked again and was at 8cm! YES! (I actually did a fist pump.) From there, I quickly felt the overwhelming urge to push and with less than 30 minutes of pushing, Raymond was born and I felt an overwhelming sense of release. He came out wailing like a good boy and the first thing I noticed was how long his fingernails were. Seriously. They grow 'em long in utero!
The midwives attended to me and then to Raymond. Once we got settled in, we called our good friend Stephanie Maas who we asked to play the role of our postpartum doula in taking care of us in the first few days of Raymond's life. Once she arrived, Jolynn left and we were in fantastic care. The days that followed were incredibly precious and we are so thankful for the opportunity to get to know our son in a sweet environment of our own creation.
On Tuesday, we left to come home and create our nest here with Raymond in it. Although we've had some rough nights, we are soaking in every moment with him.
I have to give a huge shout out to my husband. Rich was an incredible partner during the labor and delivery process and seeing him become a Dad has been one the greatest things I've ever witnessed. He's a natural with children and has quickly bonded with Ray. I am more in love with him now than I've ever been and with each passing day, I remain thankful that we found each other and created this amazing human being.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Nursery Revealed
It's true that nurseries are for the Mommies, not the babies. I mean, newborns can't even hold their heads up for four months, so what do they care about how their room looks?!
Nonetheless, I had a lot of fun putting this room together for my son and I want to thank my sweet husband for helping me with all the hanging (especially the "family wall"!), breaking down/recycling of what seems like thousands of boxes and overall enduring my lunatic behavior throughout this process. To my mother, thank you for working your organizing magic and for calming me down. To our extended family, thank you for sending us all your photographs. The ones that didn't make it on the wall will have another place of honor in our home. And to our friends that have supported us throughout this journey and know how much we adore children's books, thank you for your contributions. Several of your gifts have a place of prominent display in this room and we look forward to spending a lot of time in here!
Yes, you will notice that our son's initials are featured in a couple of places in this room. Please do not try to guess his name or try to weasel it out of us. All will be revealed once he's born....we promise! xo
Oh, and one more thing...the cats in the pics are real (can you find the cat ears in one pic?!). Not stuffed. We have a pet menagerie that will undoubtedly have some adjusting to do once our son arrives!
Nonetheless, I had a lot of fun putting this room together for my son and I want to thank my sweet husband for helping me with all the hanging (especially the "family wall"!), breaking down/recycling of what seems like thousands of boxes and overall enduring my lunatic behavior throughout this process. To my mother, thank you for working your organizing magic and for calming me down. To our extended family, thank you for sending us all your photographs. The ones that didn't make it on the wall will have another place of honor in our home. And to our friends that have supported us throughout this journey and know how much we adore children's books, thank you for your contributions. Several of your gifts have a place of prominent display in this room and we look forward to spending a lot of time in here!
Yes, you will notice that our son's initials are featured in a couple of places in this room. Please do not try to guess his name or try to weasel it out of us. All will be revealed once he's born....we promise! xo
Oh, and one more thing...the cats in the pics are real (can you find the cat ears in one pic?!). Not stuffed. We have a pet menagerie that will undoubtedly have some adjusting to do once our son arrives!
If you have any questions about where something came from, ask me! We worked with several amazing Etsy vendors and I'm a huge fan of modern furniture stores like West Elm and CB2.
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