After F was born it went on for about a month before my husband and I realized something was wrong. I had been doing so well with things: happy and managing the kids and home, and then I was not. It crept up on me, and I was unhappy, overwhelmed, and unable to do more than the minimal effort. The hardest thing was admitting that I did indeed need help, and then admitting it to the receptionist at the doctor’s office on the telephone. I left the message that I thought I had postpartum depression (PPD), and I got an immediate call to come in. With tears in my eyes, resigning myself to the situation, I drove in with the three kids. When I got there, they said that they were going to treat my symptoms with progesterone and that I would notice a difference within hours. It was like night and day. But I noticed bad habits that I had let myself get into over the month of feeling awful that I had to work through. I made it past it that time, but not without seeking the help I needed. I do not know how long it would have lasted, had I not gotten help.
This time we noticed my problems were more than just average “mom tiredness” within days of the first symptoms. After losing the baby, it was natural for me to be tired and sad, but I was managing things and sleeping well. Then M and I had a conversation during which I ended up in tears. I was feeling overwhelmed by everyday scenarios with the children, such as making them lunch. I was having a lot of trouble falling asleep at night. It took me about a half an hour to admit that I needed help. I had had a creeping realization for a couple of days, mentioned it to M on the way to Mass one morning, and his agreement sent my emotions spiraling all through Mass until I made that decision to call the doctor. I went in and again received an injection of progesterone (which, by the way, I am pretty sure I am addicted to…). More progesterone, and again I had an immediate difference in how I felt. This time I had not had enough time to develop bad habits beyond sitting in tears, overwhelmed by my children’s needs.
So, my point here is not to tell you all about my woes of PPD, but to spread that thing called “awareness”, which does nothing in itself. If others and mothers are aware, then maybe someone reading this somewhere can realize that she needs some help. And get that help, which can be as simple as a quick injection and some progesterone pills. PPD does not always mean going on an antidepressant for as long as those normally last, but just getting the right hormonal balance.
I have not decided how much better I have to feel since passing our 6 week old unborn baby two weeks ago in order for me to go work on those lunch dishes. I have been slacking on housework due to feeling wiped out and physically unwell. I had a good weekend with my mother-in-law and the girls while M was away at his conference. Sometime between Saturday and Sunday, I hit that point of postpartum when you feel like a normal person again. M came home yesterday morning, exhausted from a late night and an early flight. He picked out a really nice food processor for me for Christmas/Mother’s Day/my birthday in June, and it is a lovely machine.
Mmmmm…strawberries.
The kids asked me to use it to cut up strawberries for with lunch, or as F calls them, “Swah!” The manual has a lovely picture of neatly stacked sliced strawberries on it, and wellthe strawberries did slice, just not as prettily as on the manual. So, that needs to be cleaned… maybe I could just start the dishwasher…
So, my sister called, after I wrote the above, and I got up and ran the dishwasher. That was nice for M when he did dishes tonight (as he always does). It feels good to be helpful again. I even managed to get the Easter baskets put away; we still have candy in a smaller bowl on the counter where the candy crazy toddler cannot find it.We did preschool this morning, a reading lesson this afternoon, and I put away the washed and dried towels and bedding from my mother in laws visit. Then we went to the library and got a new stack of books, which we have not done for six weeks. G actually enjoyed her quiet time since she had so many new books to peruse.
We are burying the baby tomorrow. I am sure it will be emotional for us all. I have not been to a burial since my grandmother died nine years ago. This one will certainly be different than a funeral, but we will have our pastor there with us and the girls are going to bring some flowers from the garden. I guess this will be the final physical goodbye.
Thank you again for all of your prayers. Our time of loss has been so grace filled.
Last week I shared our very present grief over our unborn baby who had passed away inside me. Today I need to write about my experience of the baby passing on Tuesday. _________ I think the story starts on the Tuesday of Holy Week. I had a pregnancy evaluation with my Creighton instructor. I have been charting with her for 7 years, so it feel funny to always call her that. She is an incredible lady, who always answers my questions and phone calls. In fact we might not have even known of this baby if it had not been for her recommending I get on progesterone post peak so a baby would have a chance to implant. Anyway, so when you do a Creighton eval, there are a whole bunch of questions that they ask and you have to give a multiple choice answer. It is for their data or something. One of the questions was, “Was this baby planned?” I have a strong aversion to the word “planned” when it comes to having children. I think it is the root of a lot of problems society has in its view of children. So, I told her so. I said that I didn’t really like that question, but I did not really want to say that the baby was “unplanned”. I talked it out, thinking that the baby had been hoped for and that we had wanted to have another baby and hopefully that cycle. So, sure, our hoped for baby was “planned”. We knew what we were doing when we hoped for another baby.
An early ultrasound of F.
Then three days later, we found out that this baby was not growing. This baby was gone. I looked back at the dates, and discovered that the baby probably stopped growing on the feast of St. Gemma Galgani, who is my Confirmation saint. And if you know about the immense amount of suffering she experienced in her life, I realized that praying to her about this baby, was really just asking her to help me suffer gracefully, to offer my sufferings. This quotation of hers helped me through my labor with L, and now with the loss of this baby:
–> “It is true Jesus, if I think of what I have gone through as a child, and now as a grown up girl, I see that I have always had crosses to bear; But oh! how wrong are those who say that suffering is a misfortune!”
“It is true Jesus, if I think of what I have gone through as a child, and now as a grown up girl, I see that I have always had crosses to bear; But oh! how wrong are those who say that suffering is a misfortune!” – See more at: http://www.stgemmagalgani.com/#sthash.Yuc4M1L1.dpuf
“It is true Jesus, if I think of what I have gone through as a child, and now as a grown up girl, I see that I have always had crosses to bear; But oh! how wrong are those who say that suffering is a misfortune!” – See more at: http://www.stgemmagalgani.com/#sthash.Yuc4M1L1.dpuf
Further, we found out about our loss on Good Friday. We prayed the first day of the Divine Mercy Novena on our way to Good Friday liturgy, and my doctor called me just before 3pm to leave a message, just before she went into her liturgy. So, we contemplated Jesus’ death for us, and knew that our suffering at the loss of our baby was for something greater than ourselves.
Friday night we discussed whether or not our baby would have increased intellectual abilities after being separated from his or her tiny body. The body limits the intellect, but if our baby was even in a place of natural happiness, he would be able to know God, and if our baby was attaining the beatific vision, then maybe our baby would know about us and his family on earth. And that was something we could hope for as we entrusted our baby to the mercy of God.
Easter week we waited for the baby to pass, knowing that it might be awhile. I was on extra progesterone until Monday morning, and my levels would have to drop for the baby to come out. We prayed our novena, shared our distress with our friends, and felt the great grace of everyone’s prayers. The wonderful Moms group at St. Agnes offered meals, and we almost refused. I did not think I would need the help of meals, but I am glad we accepted knowing now the exhaustion of passing the baby. I sit here now, so thankful for the dinner a friend is bringing today. I also went to a lovely birthday party with some lady friends, and spent an evening laughing.
Easter Friday, I was really thinking and praying about a name for the baby. It was hard to decide or to even think of options. We have agreed on many names for our hoped for children, but I never considered what to call one who was miscarried. Then I thought about the canonizations to take place on Divine Mercy/Low Sunday. M and I both grew up with Pope Saint John Paul II as the only pope we knew. We were already in college when he passed away, and had loved him dearly during his life. While in Europe for a semester in college we saw his birth place, home parish, and went to the Divine Mercy Shrine in Poland. I realized that we should name the baby John Paul. I suggested it to M and he wanted to think about it.
Divine Mercy Sunday at Mass, I started to have symptoms of the baby passing: cramping and bleeding. We decided that the baby would be called John Paul in honor of the first pope that we knew. It took a few more days for things to progress.
Warning: Things are a little birth storyish from here on…blood and things…
We finally made it to a morning Mass on Tuesday for the Feast of St. Catherine of Sienna. We had been finding it difficult to get up early enough to go at 7:30am. I had stronger cramping during Mass and was pretty exhausted. M went to campus, and I tried to do housework. The girls were playing nicely, so I decided to not worry about home school. I cleaned the bathroom walls. I know, kind of a weird chore. I really wanted to deep clean; maybe it was some weird hormonal nesting thing. I finished cleaning the walls and realized that something was passing. I ran to the downstairs bathroom (to be away from the kids) and realized it was happening. It was physically easiest delivery experience of my life, but emotionally the hardest. I needed M home. He was not teaching his class yet, so I called him, told him I was pretty sure I had passed the baby and the placenta, started to cry, and asked him to come home. Then I found the baby, cleaned up, and tried to go back up to the girls.
F was screaming for me, so I gave her food I knew she would eat, safe in her high chair. I gave the big girls play dough, which always keeps them happy, and then realized there was more coming. The bleeding was not slowing, but rapidly increasing. I watched the clock for M to come home. I realized I probably would need to go to the hospital if things did not slow. I tried to go into denial, not wanting to make a big deal, but ended up calling my doctor. I told them how much I was bleeding and they were like, “Go to the ER, NOW!”
M arranged childcare at a nearby friends house. I called my sister who had gone through the whole bleeding way to much during miscarriage scenario to mentally prepare myself for the ER experience. (I am mostly melancholic; mental preparation is everything.) I tried to figure out what would hold all the blood on the way to the hospital, and went with a size 5 baby diaper.
We dropped off the kids, and our friends looked really worried. We had never gone to that hospital from this part of town, so we had a little trouble finding the right exit, but we got there. After signing in and talking to the triage nurse, we were sent to the waiting room. I wondered if they minded blood getting on their chairs, unsure of how long the diaper would hold up. We sat chatting for a few minutes, thankful that we had had a week and a half to emotionally accept the loss of our baby, and I suddenly felt light headed and nauseated. I told M and he ran to tell the desk. They brought out a wheelchair and told me it would be 10-15 minutes before my room would be ready. All I could think about was how awful I felt, how I really did not want to vomit, and did not think I could possibly last 10-15 minutes. Then I was dreaming. I did not feel sick at all. M saw me pass out and panicked, but the nurse was walking up behind me as it happened. The nurse convinced M that he needed to pull it together. M later told me that he thought that I might have died there sitting in the chair; the way my eyes rolled back into my head and I limped over really frightened him. I do not recollect it at all, but M was holding my face when I woke up. Upon waking up, I felt so much better than I had before passing out. The recollection of where I was and what was going on hit me pretty quickly as the nurse told me that I had passed out and to rest my head in his hand. I followed his instructions.
They wheeled me in a hurry to a room as I became more conscious. They told us that the best way to get to a room quickly is to pass out. I guess we got ahead of the sweet looking old couple who was sitting in the waiting room. So, I ended up in a hospital gown, on an IV, with a doctor giving me an exam. M was still really worried. They decided to call my doctor, to see what they would recommend. We had brought the iPad and M posted a status asking for prayers, which a friend said this about: “M[…] scared me with his cryptic FB post! I’ve been praying for you throughout the day.”
The OB on staff at our awesome, Catholic clinic, showed up pretty quickly. He said we could wait to see if the bleeding slowed or go ahead and do a surgical D&C. I asked to wait, and M agreed. So, they gave me something to help the uterus clamp down, and M went home to give the kids a nap.
I am a huge fan of emergency prayers from friends and family, and love that social networking is a way to pass on the need for prayer. I continued to check Facebook, called my mom and sister, and dozed for two hours. While dozing I tried to pray a Divine Mercy Chaplet for healing. The bleeding slowed, and by the time M came back, they said I could go home. I was so relieved, and so thankful for the prayers.
We got home, and I felt like I do after delivering a baby. I was exhausted and cramping, but had no baby to hold. I did have a very clingly toddler, who decided nursing was just what she needed. They had told me to take it easy and rest for a few days. I am still feeling the wear of losing the blood. It is pretty incredible to me that while I was only 8 weeks along, the passing of the the baby and the recovery feels so similar to a full term labor. Thank you for all of your prayers for my health and for little John Paul.
We are going to bury him in a local cemetery sometime in the next couple of weeks, and I am sure I will need to write about it again then.
1) Wet yourself in the backyard in your pants and on your boots. Make sure you don’t even ask to go to the bathroom before doing so.
2) Stick your nose in front of the baby swing and get blood all over your mother’s jacket. Make sure you were not listening to her repeated warnings to watch out for the swing.
3) Scream like a girl every time your mother tells you “no” all morning.
4) Wet yourself right outside the bathroom all over the floor while your mother is taking a rare bathroom break. Make sure you did not even ask to go to the bathroom before doing so.
5) When you wet yourself, make sure the 18 month old is running towards the bathroom and slips on the wet floor, getting all “wet”.
6) If you are 18 months old, and your mother strips you down to clean you up, and has you wait in the bathtub so she can clean the huge puddle off the floor, take off that poopy diaper. Stick your hands in it. Rub it on your belly. Yeah, like that…
7) Run around in the hallway laughing while your mom is putting the 18 month old down for a nap.
8) Stay in your room all of nap/quiet time, fearing her wrath.Please?
And because I just saw this new link up, I am pretty sure this qualifies for it:
1. I spent most of Monday in a little panic about silverfish bugs in our basement. I found a couple in our basement school cupboard, and then discovered that they nest in and eat paper and cardboard. I imagined a whole colony of them just destroying everything in the cupboard and moving onto the rest of the basement. I really do not like bugs in my house. I really don’t. Especially creepy looking ones that destroy things. So, I called M and asked him to spray the whole basement for bugs, because who knows what else might have come out since it stopped being freezing cold in the world. Do they have brown recluse spiders in Minnesota? They have them in Missouri and I always was afraid of being bit by one of those. I also discovered that bugs don’t like the smell of cedar. We have a large cedar closet that came with the house in the basement, which I am super thankful for since I am storing things in there like my wedding dress.
2. The kids have their new swing set. M and our friend, T, built it all last Saturday, just in time for it to rain from Saturday night through Wednesday afternoon. I managed to get a picture of it finally this morning. The big girls have been going out and playing in the cold between rain showers. F has been begging to go outside all week, but I really did not feel up for going outside and standing in the cold while helping F slide down the slide. Maybe it will be sunny this weekend. We could all go for that around here.
3. F (18 months) is thinking about potty training already. The other day, G (5) announced that she had to use the bathroom. Whenever she does this, L (3) screams, “No, I have to go potty!” They then race to the bathroom. F, observing them, pulled up her shirt saying, “I po-yee. Pee.” And then waddles after them. Maybe we will go for it this summer. No pants in the backyard. Why not?
4. We decided to night wean F last week. It was a breeze. This kid is so chill most of the time. I kind of wish all babies could be just like her. I still nurse her before bed, but if she wakes up M goes to her with water and tells her to go back to sleep. The first night, he did this three times. The second night once, and now, for now, she is sleeping all night without waking. That is much better that her sisters who wake up multiple times to go to the bathroom, get a drink, fuss about whatever, monsters… How do you parent night wean 5 and 3 year olds?
5. I ended up making the thickest Greek yogurt the other day. You see, I did it overnight in the crockpot on Monday night. (8 cups whole milk for 2.5 hours on low, cool for 3 hours, add 6 oz plain yogurt starter and wrap in blankets overnight). I usually “strain” the yogurt by putting a bunch of paper towels on top to soak the excess liquid off for about an hour. Well, Tuesday, when we were hurrying to get me to the ER for my miscarriage “complications” I stuck it in the fridge with paper towels on top. Wednesday morning I remembered it and, voila, yogurt as thick as you could want!
6. I am guessing that wondering minds want to know about Tuesday. I would like to write a longer post devoted to my experience of miscarriage, but a few initial thoughts are that passing a 6 week old baby at 8 weeks is like a less strenuous labor. But I feel a lot now like I did after having each of the other babies. I lost a lot of blood, and wears one out. What makes it a little easier, but also sad, is that I can sleep all night, without infant care. It is not what I expected. And the baby had a sense of liturgical time, since he/she stopped growing on the Feast of St. Gemma (my confirmation saint), we found out about the death on Good Friday, I started bleeding on Divine Mercy Sunday, and the baby passed on the (new) Feast of St. Catherine of Sienna (who we have started a devotion to since F was born…her biography by Sigrid Undset is amazing).
7. And, I was not going to buy Jen’s new book, since I do not normally randomly buy books (a certain husband of mine would buy a new book everyday if he could). I was thinking library. But as a treat, to help with recovery, I ordered it on Wednesday, plus a new Von Balthasar for M. It is scheduled to arrive next Tuesday. I previewed the first chapters on Amazon, which let me since I purchased the hardcover. I am eager to read the rest. Jen has a beautiful and interesting way of explaining her childhood in the first couple of chapters. Who knows, maybe I will have time to enter a contest.
We found out on Holy Thursday that our new little baby may have stopped growing. The ultrasound dates were slightly off from my charting, the baby measuring at 6 weeks when I should have been 7 weeks along. Good Friday brought us the news that my HCG levels were too low for the baby to still be growing. We had lost the baby. We were hoping to share our hopeful news with the world after Easter, but instead it is news of our loss.
I woke up several times Friday night, and all I could think about was the lack of life inside me. When I am pregnant I always think about myself in relation to the growing baby, and my way of thinking had to change. I had to stop thinking of Advent as the time of a new baby. I had been so looking forward to another Advent baby, preparing for Christmas early, and sitting back and loving my baby while the world rushed around us preparing for Christmas. But now at the end of Lent, we knew that Advent was not going to be about our new baby. Our new baby was passing on without us.
Saturday we immersed ourselves in Easter preparations, went to the Vigil Mass, and then Easter Sunday we spent with some family in Wisconsin. It was easy to not think too much about it. Though L (3) told me several times that she wished that we still had a new baby coming.
Monday morning I went back to the doctor for G’s (5) well visit and a blood draw for me. Another HCG level would confirm things for sure. As we went out to the car I saw a friend walking in who told me her news of just finding out she was expecting. I congratulated her, outwardly cheerful, but inside my heart ached. M had the day off on Monday, as he had had on Friday, and I was so thankful to be able to be close to each other during our immediate experience of loss. Though we have always been that way; every hardship since we have been together, we have experienced as a couple. It is only normal for us to be drawn together now.
Tuesday morning, I woke up sad again. I knew that today would bring the final news. I saw a picture of my sister’s sweet baby boy on Facebook, and I lost it. Her little boy is so cute, and I realized that I was also hoping for a little boy. (Though am pretty sure we are will only have girls.) I wondered all day if things would start passing soon. I moped about the house, relaxed with the kids, and could not find it in myself to take on house work. We managed about ten minutes of preschool activities, but that was about it. M came home mid-afternoon, and I took time to run. He then did yard work with the kids and I showered and we still waited for the final phone call. It came, and my HCG levels still showed no more living, growing baby. But also that things are not going to start to pass for a couple of weeks. I did not think I could bear it, waiting two weeks before things are resolved.
My sorrow is not worry about the fate of the baby, for I have entrusted the baby to the mercy of God, but it is the loss that hurts. It is M’s loss and the children’s loss. G and L know what has happened, they know that they will not know this baby, grow up with this baby. F (17 months) is happy not to know, and is a consolation in her cheerfulness and babyish ways. I have found night nursing times with her to be so sweet lately as I mourn our lost baby. And now I think I am going to make it two more weeks with this little baby inside me. It is my last chance to physically be with this child, even though the baby’s soul has passed on.
Please pray for us, that we find healing. Please pray for me, that the baby passes safely for me, and I know the chances are slim that we will find our smaller than 1 cm baby as he or she comes out, pray for that to. Thank you for your prayers.
I could write a post as a tutorial about cloth diapers, but there are so many great posts about them already. My friend Jacqui has not one, but two posts. And Anna has a nice one also. I could also give you all my reasons that we use cloth diapers, but others have said them well. My friend Mary wrote this one a couple of years ago, and I still remember it! Further, a friend from college wrote this blog all about cloth diapering a couple of years ago.
We had a cloth diaper baby shower, hosted by my dad’s side of the family. His sister works for Cotton Babies, so she took charge of my wish list and we received everything and more from my family months before G was born. At the time we were living in an apartment with coin laundry, but even with that the cost came out about even and we felt we were doing our part for the environment.
Here is a look at what diapers look like after three kids:
This is our 15lbs and up stash, which has seen more wear and tear than the little baby stash.
A pocket diaper with inserts. This used to be velcro, but I switched it to snaps when L was a baby. We use these overnight when we don’t wimp out and use disposable overnight.
Great all-in-one bumGenius. These were from my aunt, who got them from work for free. It is a good thing we have only had girls… My sister got a matching set, which she has converted to snaps.
These are our covers, which used to have velcro. The velcro wore out, but once again snaps to the rescue! Also, you can see some econobum covers at the bottom of the stack.
Our large, once unbleached, prefolds. These are the best and so durable, though a little frayed now.
Cloth wipes. In my opinion, the number one reason to cloth diaper. They save so much money!
And that is what diapers look like after three kids have used them many times. I think they have a few more rounds left in them. Oh, and the best part about diapering for me is the my husband does the diaper laundry. 😉
1. Today is a great Feast Day in the Ancient calendar; it is that of St. Thomas Aquinas, M’s patron saint. If St. Thomas Aquinas had an octave day, then it would be on M’s birthday. In fact, since M is the head of our home, he has declared that there is an octave day, and it is in fact his birthday. So, there you go. Eight days for St. Thomas Aquinas start now. That also means that I have to bake a chocolate cake before dinner… Happy Feast day to my dear husband!
2. In case you did not notice, I have updated the blogs look. I hope that C is not too disappointed in the slightly different header. Let me know what you think. I have the old template downloaded, so if you all hate this one I might be willing to change it back. I think I really like it. I just need someone to help me add a few “gadgets.”
3. This week has been pretty penitential for me. The poor baby/toddler, F, has been soooo cranky, and it has been really difficult to keep her happy. She had an ear infection about three weeks ago, which we treated with antibiotics. Then on Sunday she had a low fever that lasted through Thursday morning, plus major crankiness. We went to the doctor and got more meds for her ear, but they have not kicked in yet. She has been screaming half of the time and generally unhappy. She also has a huge bump in her mouth indicating a very large tooth about to break through. I have been used to a very happy and contented baby, and now she is so sad and so unhappy. In your charity, please pray for her that gets her tooth in soon and that she stops feeling uncomfortable, and pray for me that I get more patience with the kids despite my stress…
Good ol’ Jane.
4. Five years ago, today, was my due date for G. She was born eight days after her due date, on the Ides of March. Kind of crazy. Maybe I should put everything aside this next week and reread all of Jane Austen like I did five years ago. That would be lots of fun. Before M and I were engaged he bought this used volume of her complete works; being in possession of that copy may have been one of the reasons that I consented to marrying him.
5. Thank you for all your prayers for my father. I found out from my mom, that he played piano for Ash Wednesday Mass at the church where he is employed. He said he felt like he was at 90% of normal. I guess I need to call him and see how he really is doing! Life just goes by so quickly, I forget to call! Dad, if you are reading this, we need to SKYPE! Maybe you can make F happy! Are you allowed to lift 21 squirmy pounds yet?
6. My next T&C post is due for next week, and I think I have an idea now. I have the hardest time coming up with topics, unless I am at Mass. Then I usually think of lots of things to say about Mass. How many Mass articles makes too many? Can there be too many things written about the Mass? I bet there cannot. So, do you think people would keep reading my posts if I just kept on writing about the Mass? I would be happy to keep on writing them. But if there are any things you really want me to write about, especially from the depths of the MA I once earned six years ago, let me know!
7. And this is for M, my philosopher:
And this is for his students, who sometimes read my blog:
1. Happy Feast of St. Lucy! Today we had our traditional bread machine cinnamon rolls, and no child wore a white dress with candles on her head. It is a bit difficult to do it first thing in the morning when you are trying to get to 7:30am mass, so we saved them for after mass. I really wish I had better traditions for other saint’s days. I think we do St. Nicholas and St. Lucy the best, but maybe that is because Advent is so full of rich liturgical traditions. I wonder if we could go all out like we do for Advent for every season.
2. I discovered that F (13 months) can climb down stairs yesterday. I was finishing up something in the basement, and spotted her almost to the top of the stairs. It was silly of me to have left her unwatched with the gate not blocking the stairs. I asked her to wait for me and not climb anymore, and instead of heeding my request she started carefully sliding down one stair at a time on her belly and feet first. She has the technique. Who needs walking when you can do stairs?
3. After over two weeks of various illnesses, we are healthy! Hooray! And I am feeling pretty relaxed about Advent and Christmas coming, so much so that I have not done any of the house cleaning I am supposed to be doing this afternoon. It will get done, just let me sit a few more minutes.
4. And it turns out that some of my husband’s students have been reading my blog. I really have to be careful what I say now! I don’t want to reveal anything that I wouldn’t want students to know… So, here is my “shout out” to you, you students of Dr. Spencer. I hope you find him as entertaining as I do, and discuss a lot in class. That makes him happy.
5. We have not written any of our Christmas cards yet, but we will do them soon. The thing about coming from large extended families and having friends from college and two cities that we have lived in, means that we have lots of people we want to keep in touch with. Further, we enroll the intentions of all of our loved ones in the Institute of Christ the King Sovereign Priest’s Novena of Masses which begins on Christmas. I figure the best gift we can give at Christmas, is the gift of prayer. They have a beautiful shrine in Chicago to the Infant King, I would love to visit it someday, but for now check out: Why a Devotion to the Infant King?
6. G has been in a full onslaught of question asking these days. Everything has to have an explanation, and the explanation has to be further inquired upon. So, either she is cut out to be a philosopher or she is four. At lunch today, “Mom, how does the yoke get in the egg?” I wish I could remember more of her more memorable sayings, but, alas, for some reason, I always forget them when I come to write them down. Maybe I will plan on posting a list of her best questions in a post just for her.
7. I really should get to my housecleaning. I really, really need to mop before the baby wakes up. So, that is all folks. Have a nice weekend!
Linking up with Jen, who is hosting Seven Quick Takes!
In theory, I should be writing these posts once a month, but so far that has not happened. I thought that F’s birthday would be a good reason to give a look at all three girls.
F, the Birthday Baby: – My father is visiting and he sung a song to my girls that his mom sang when his little brother was a baby, Beautiful brown eyes, Beautiful brown, I will never again love blue eyes, Beautiful brown eyes. Even though she is the third child with beautiful, long-lashed brown eyes, I am still enamored with them.
-She still insists on getting around by crawling, pulling herself up only when in the most desperate need of attention, especially on my legs while I am cooking dinner. Standing up against her will is a chore.
-She is working on saying words and things that sound like words: “Ma!”, “Da-da.”, “Oooooooh!”, “Ah-yay-yooo-ya!”, and then the high pitched shriek.
-She is happy to play near her sisters and delights in their attention. But mostly prefers to do her own thing near them.
-She is still needing the two naps, but if she misses the morning nap, makes it up in the afternoon. Also, night time sleep has been wonderful with one or two wake ups, and easy to resettle; that is when she has her own room.
-She will look at her “church book” fairly quietly for a 30 minute Mass.
-Her favorite foods are meats, cheese, and clementine oranges.
L, the Acrobat: -She has a birthday coming up in three weeks. It is hard to believe she is almost three!
-Yesterday, I overheard her say to my father, “You are my favorite!” And then insisted on him sitting next to her at lunch.
-Even after a concussion last month, she can still be found climbing on the back of just about any furniture that she can get on. She can also be found jumping from piece of furniture to piece of furniture.
-She is one of the cutest kids that I know. There is something about her cheeks, eyelashes, and way of expressing herself that makes her pull this off. Even when she is crying her big tears, she is adorable.
-She is thrilled with the snow season’s arrival, but also keeps on asking to go swimming outside?
-At Mass she tries to “ride” the back of the pews like a pony or wants to be cuddled. Her little child’s missal is usually just held.
-If you ask her what her favorite foods are she will say: “Pancakes, macaroni and cheese, lasagna, and peanut butter jelly and a baseball bat!”
G, the Imagination: -With my mom and dad visiting, she is getting all the attention she could possibly want, but she is forgetting how to be alone in quiet time.
-I did not realize until this week that most of the games she and L play are play acting everything. G will narrate events and act them out and L will follow. The day is one long elaborate story.
-She is very excited when she makes connections between things she has learned in catechism, reading, and other lessons and her lived life.
-She is on Lesson 20 in her 100 reading lessons and is doing very well. I knew she had it in her!
-She is trying very hard to sit still and follow her missal at Mass.
-Said that her favorite dinner was cupcakes, but really will eat anything. Further, I am a bit in awe of how carefully and skillfully she is able to use her fork and spoon after many years struggling to figure them out.
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