Wonderment

We spent a rainy day inside today, just breathing in the time we had to relax, play, and just hang out together. Evan and I watched cartoons, put together puzzles, colored, danced, and played guessing games. My friend, Sam, just had a little boy not too long ago, and is enduring those first trying, if not pyschologically painful, weeks of motherhood. She's going through those sleepless nights that get strung together to the point you lose your mind, and it made me think back to those nights myself.

Evan and I had a lot of good nights once I got the hang of the whole timing thing, but it doesn't come naturally, and it takes lots of practice, which I think mother nature intended. I mean, how else would you be able to hear your infant crying when you forget to turn the baby monitor back on? Normally such a state of sleep-deprivation would leave you dead to the world, but somehow mother nature tunes you into the soft little cries of your newborn (though they are only "soft" in retrospect when you can compare them to the fog horn set of lungs your baby has by age three!).

I had a hard time nursing, so I turned to full-time pumping at about week three. It was a godsend, because the minute my painful boobs went away, motherhood was so much more appealing. Up until that moment of truth, that terrible moment where I knew I couldn't nurse my child and be a good mom at the same time, I was miserable. Every time Evan cried, I could only think of the blisters of my poor boobs and the hell that was about to happen. To make matters worse, I had already been pumping, so I knew how much milk the kid would take out of a bottle, and how much less he would take from nursing. It was devastating, because I could calculate by week 3 just how much less sleep I would get from him nursing. It destroyed my mind.

I loved the daytime. Evan would keep me entertained for hours, babbling and learning and just being oh-so-amazing. Every little thing was photographed. When my husband went back to work, I loved the hours we had together during the day, but by 6pm when he came home, I'd hand Evan to my husband and I'd go upstairs for an hour long bubble bath to unwind. It became a ritual, one I still use to this day, and because of it, Evan and his daddy have such a great bond. They love their after work time together, and I love listening to them as I am off doing "me" things in the house.

When Evan was about 3 weeks old, I cracked. The last straw was when I had been asleep for maybe an hour, and Evan woke again, hungry from his nursing not too long before then. I was exhausted. I was in pain. I was losing my mind. My husband didn't even seem to hear the baby on the monitor, and I hated him for being able to sleep for more than a 3 hour stretch of time. I was seething and mentally anguished, and it was all because of exhaustion. This tiny creature wailed in his crib, and I remember looking down and simply losing it. I started sobbing uncontrollably, granted maybe in part due to hormones, but I sobbed like a little girl whose world was coming to an end. I sobbed about not being good enough, about the baby hating me, about being a failure as a mom. I'm pretty sure I dropped a lot of F-bombs in my ranting and sobbing, because my husband calmly came into the room, steered me to bed, and took over for the night. I had officially fallen apart.

That night, I think I slept for 6 hours straight. It was heaven, and I can still remember waking up and feeling guilty that I had been such a terrible mom. But that was when I concsciously realized that I couldn't do it all. I needed help, and if it meant giving up nursing so that I could regain some sanity, well, by all means, that was what I was going to do. And I did. Within 2 days of giving up nursing and going completely to pumping, I was a changed person. I was more relaxed at night, knowing that the middle of the night feedings were only going to leave me tired, but not in pain. I would nurse Evan about 9pm, then go to bed. At midnight, my husband would give him a bottle, and then he would go to bed. So by the 3 am feeding, I has slept 6 hours or so, and then could go back to bed for another 2-3. I finally regained my sanity and finally LOVED motherhood, including the night.

I remember one of the first really good nights, rocking Evan in his chair, making this silly whoosh noise that always made him nod off. I couldn't believe how big he was already, just 4 weeks old, and how much we had learned together as a family. You don't quite believe your husband will still find you attractive after you shoot a human being out of your body. You don't quite believe you will be exhausted when that first week home goes pretty ok. You don't quite believe that once you milk yourself like a cow, you will ever look at your boobs the same (well, ok, you don't really, but you certainly hope your husband gets over the image). But most importantly, you never quite believe how lucky you are to get to endure all of the craziness that is parenthood.

The bottom line is that I want to do it all over again. I can't imagine being that exhausted and not being able to nap during the day, but parents all over the world do it. And we have been through parenthood 101, so I think it's time we graduate to parenthood 202, right? I would give anything to have another baby turn our world upside down and make it so much better than we ever could've imagined.

Right now, Evan and his daddy are downstairs playing UNO. It's been 3 years and 9 months or so since Evan has made us a real family, and I wouldn't know what I would be doing know if he were not here. He's downstairs tell daddy, "I WINNED!". No, buddy, we winned. We got the most amazing boy who taught us how strong and loving and patient we really are. At night, when Evan kisses us goodnight, he says, "I Yuv You, you silly booboo!" or whatever silly name he comes up with on the spur of the moment. I still listen for his breath on the baby monitor, hear him toss and turn some restless nights, still go in to check on him right before bed. He's the love of my life, and I wouldn't trade a minute for anything in the world.

A Conversation with a Teacher

Because we are on Spring Break now, I could not ask Evan's teacher the million questions on my mind this week, seeing as yesterday she was already gone. So, I called my sister-in-law, who has first hand behavior experience with Evan, both the good and the bad. The minute I told her Evan was having problems in school, she laughed.

The first words out of her mouth? "Remember when he was 10 months old and I told you he would outsmart his teachers in kindergarten if you didn't move fast enough? Well, he's there. But he's only three."

I read his teacher's "report card" word for word, and she immediately began rattling off all the things his teacher should be trying, but isn't. This is the beauty of having a sister-in-law who teaches gifted 5th graders- you get a little insight of how it should go, but rarely does.

I don't want to dismiss Evan's behavior in any way, because even if he is bored out of his mind, he still needs to be respectful and listen to his teachers. However, I am much more of the mindset now that Evan is definitely bored. My sister-in-law asked how his teachers were handling the situation when Evan said "no." I told her that, according to them, they just left him. "To do what?" she asked. "To stay where he's at on the floor, so he can be more creative than if he were drawing at the table? Instead of tracing shapes he knew at 12 months old?"

I told her that his teachers are worried there is a pattern to his behavior, that his rebellion may be some sort of behavioral disorder, but she dismissed this as well. She said many "educators" who are ill-prepared to deal with a gifted child take any challenge to their authority as a behavior issue, instead of actually working a little to see what a little challenge in the educational environment will do for the behavior.

Now, I know she's biased because he is her nephew, but I also trust her to tell me her honest opinion on Evan's behavior. She found it odd that his teachers only just now clued in on the fact that he is reading. And when he refuses to paint a chick yellow, why not offer another option to see if he would accept a more difficult task, like painting stripes on the chick? She enthusiastically suggested we find a new school after this school year, one that has a gifted program or at least an accelerated learning environment for his "behavior" issues.

The local $16,000 a year school is not even an option, so we'll look into Montessori schools to see if those are even remotely affordable. However, the $16K school does offer a "Pre-k" screening for $350, which I don't put much faith in. But, it may help us when he gets to kindergarten if we come armed with the testing results that may (or may not) show he is past learning how to spell C-A-T.

So, I have my homework cut out for me. Maybe Evan can help me with it :)

A Bad Report Card

It seems our wonderful 3 1/2 year old whiz kid is causing some trouble at school. We received a breakdown of is, ahem, "bad" behaviors on Tuesday, which is totally stressing me out. To review, Evan is:

1. Saying "I don't want to!"
2. Would not (or could not?) cut out his art project.
3. Is being aggressive towards other kids.
4. Would not clean up his area.
5. Wanted to go home and do "boring things".

Personally, I see only one total problem with this list and it is simple insubordination. Evan does not want to do what the teachers ask of him.

Seeing the concern in the teachers' eyes, I took Evan home after our review and put him at the table with his craft stuff. I said, "Your teachers don't think you can do this. Cut that out, and glue it to the paper like you should have in school." And he did. Very well, despite the difficult cutting pattern the teacher had done on purpose. Then, because I'm a bitch, I drew up a whole bunch of shapes, made Evan cut them out and paste them onto an "I'm sorry card" to bring to his teachers today. Yep, my kid can use scissors all right. That was a definite "would not".

Next, we addressed the "aggression", which was defined as "everything turns into a gun or a sword at playtime". Okaaaaay. Now, he's a boy, with nothing but older boys in the family, so this will be a tough one. But, no more gun play at home or with friends until he understands the zero tolerance that schools have towards this. I understand, but thankfully he's not actually hurting anyone.

The teachers were worried about him wanting to go home and "do boring things". I laughed, which I probably shouldn't have, but whenever Evan balks at going somewhere, I say, "why would you want to stay home and do boring things? Let's go do something fun!" or, I tell him I will only do boring things without him while he is at school, since he worries that he is missing out. When I explained where he got that from, and he was obviously saying he didn't want to be at school, they looked relieved.

Now the whole "I don't want to" and "not cleaning up his area" is pure rebellion. He tries it at home every day. When I asked them what they do when he says that or doesn't listen, there doesn't seem to be a clear cut punishment or consequence. Today, he refused to do his art project again, so he sat at the table and did nothing the whole time. Seems to me, he got his way. Of course, today his aggression was taken out on two St. Patty's Day hats, which he stomped on an smooshed, much to the teacher's dismay. I asked if he apologized, they said no, so I refused to let Evan leave for the day until he did- it took 15 minutes or so, but he finally said he was sorry.

My main concern about all of this is that he's bored out of his mind of coloring letters he already knows and cutting out shapes and sticking them to paper. Maybe I'm thinking he's more advanced than he is, but when his classmates are having trouble counting to 11, and he counts to 100 on his own, I worry he's bored. When they are trying to remember what comes after 15, he's doing subtraction at night with daddy- his new favorite activity (yeah, he totally gets that from dad). He's reading level 2 books on his own and tries to read every word he sees. Today at school, while we were waiting for an apology, he noticed the number 11 was missing out of 25 cards on the wall that were placed in numeric order. Seriously, tell me he's not bored in some way.

My husband thinks he's just being difficult and stubborn, as he has always been. The teachers probably think he has a behavior or learning disorder. I think he's trying to tell us something but does not have the maturity level to get it across. Regardless, the other kids file in and sit down and do what they are told. Evan tells them "No! I don't want to!" and gets away with it. How do I work with that?

I went online searching for advanced curriculum for 3-4 year olds in our area. I choked at the $16,000 a year tuition at the school nearest to us. Seriously, there has to be a place that works with advanced kids that does not cost as much as college! How the hell do people afford that? They had a page on taking out student loans- for a 3 year old??? I value his education more than anything else, but come on. I think being able to eat is up there with education.

So, for now, I'll keep working with him at home and we'll keep chipping away at his behavior issues at school. But at home today, he said, "mommy, let's pretend like we are explorers on the planet Mars!" And I said, "Ok!". And then I immediately thought about how little I knew about that planet! Sigh. I better start educating myself to keep up with him.

15dpo- The Wait Is Almost Over

After a crazy-hectic weekend where I stood for three days straight and talked to upteen thousand people, I'm finally at 15dpo, i.e. The Last Day of the Two Week Wait. I have no symptoms and my temperatures have been stable the last three days. What that means, I have no idea, since this is my first month charting temperatures. So? I'll know by the end of the day whether or not I have any reason to test again. My gut tells me there's no reason to test again.

But, the good news is that my cycle went right back to normal after being 5 1/2 weeks pregnant and miscarrying. I need to hold onto that fact- some women take much longer to be back to "normal" physically. Of course, on the other hand, it makes me go right back to the "why not this month" questions on why we didn't conceive again. Sigh. I hate this routine. Especially since now I should be like 9-10 weeks preggo. It sucks.

Anyway, I think I'll keep charting, just to see what it is my body actually does each cycle, but really, I don't think it actually helps at all. It actually makes me obsess a bit more, which I don't really like to do. I'm not an obsessive person, but this whole TWW thing turns me into a mad woman- checking physical signs, taking my temparture at randow times during the day to see if my normal temperature is higher than my waking temperature, and running into Walmart five minutes before closing to buy hpt's like some crazed crack addict needing a fix on a Sunday night. That's just not normal for me, but again, it makes me feel like I have some control of an out of control situation.

So, that's the update. Unless some spectacularly double pink lines shows up on a test, that's the last you'll be hearing about this cycle. Back to "normal" from here on out, right? Ugh.

11 DPO = Insanity

Ok, I got the elbow nudge from Krissy, which I needed. I am 11dpo today, and I tested this morning because of my temperature- it "jumped" this morning, which could mean a sudden surge in progesterone (aka- pregnant). Progesterone raises your body temp, and a spike in temperature could mean that your body is cranking out some pregnancy hormones- or that it is out of whack after a miscarriage. Anyway, a big fat negative stared back at me. I might try again in the morning if I have time. This is an insane week, which keeps me from obsessing somewhat (she types after she pauses to pull her hpt out of the garbage can to double check that it was indeed negative- it is).

So, that's the update - or lack thereof.

I promise if I see anything exciting, I'll share with you guys :)

8dpo

For the ladies who know what 8dpo means, you know that means obsessing time. Was that a cramp? A twinge in my boob? Am I more tired than usual? Did that glance at the coleslaw just make me nauseous?

For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, "dpo" means days past ovulation. In an ideal baby-making world, if you timed everything right, and home pregnancy tests tell the truth, some women can start testing to see if they are pregnant today. I am one that needs to test on 10dpo, but really, even the most sensitive home pregnancy tests may not pick anything up until you are due for your period anyway. But at 8 dpo, you could be pregnant, but not producing enough pregnancy hormones for a hpt to know it yet. So you obsess about every little thing your body is or is not doing.

I'm trying not to obsess, and god knows I have a thousand things to keep me busy this week, but it's still there, in the back of my mind. Hoping. Terror. Hoping. We'll see in a few days. With the miscarriage, I tested positive at 10dpo, so only a couple more days to go...

Ugh. I really wish I wasn't going through this stupid two week wait again.

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Funny how it's cold outside, there is a dusting of snow on the driveway, yet it feels like Spring because there are birds signing outside my house. I walked to the mailbox this morning, and just stopped to listen. It was warming to hear them- twittling and chirping to their hearts' content, like it was a balmy 60 degree spring day. I hope they know something we don't. Yes, it's supposed to warm up this week, but then it's right back into freakin' cold for the weekend. I'm so sick of the cold, I'm going to listen to those birds, and screw the weather man!

Snore

I'm seriously going to bed RIGHT NOW. It's 8:43 PM and I am doing everything I can to keep my eyes open. The catch is that means I'll wake up early. Then go to bed early. Then get up earlier.

I know, because this has been my life for the last week. I don't know how to snap out of this weird bed cycle. And I SO want to watch The Daily Show tonight. Sigh. I'll DVR it and watch it at the crack of dawn tomorrow.

And I'd give anything for a coffee. But my new "Two Week Wait" routine includes no caffeine, no hot baths, no alcohol, no meds but Tylenol, no diet soda or artificial anything, no fast food, no sushi and no coffee, including decaf. Ugh. I already battled the two-day caffeine headache and won, so I'm thinking maybe I just won't drink it anymore instead of suffering each month. Unless, of course, we get pregnant again right away, then I'm already detoxed and prepped for the next 9 months.

So I'm off to bed. I managed to make myself stay up 10 minutes to write this. Zzzzzzz.