Mother's Intuition

Today I took #4, who is 4 to preschool! We tried last year and it was a battle everyday.  After a couple months of dragging him kicking and screaming, while I tried not to throw up, into the school, I called it quits.  It wasn't worth the trauma or the extra work while feeling miserable 24/7 on my part.  Now, this year he has been so excited to go to school.  It starts a week after all of the other boys of course, so he has been begging every morning since last week to go.

His name is Rylan, he answers to RyRy, and just recently decided to claim Rylan as his name as well. Rylan, as a baby, was perfect.  He was fat and rolly and happy.  He smiled and laughed all the time.  He was supposed to be my last, so I relished in all of his babyness.  I didn't push him to sit or roll or crawl or walk.  In fact I was happy for the three and half short months that he didn't move at all (yes, all my boys figure everything out way to early!).  I nursed him until he quit on his own, I know you're picturing a three year old still attached, but no he was 15 months and done.  He was easy, and sweet, and loved everyone.

When our family trauma hit Rylan was almost two years old.  My husband left.  Within maybe 2-3 weeks after he stopped coming home Rylan changed.  We all did honestly, but Rylan's change was the most apparent.  It breaks my heart to remember the day my sweet RyRy stopped laughing and hugging and began clinging to only me and screaming at everyone else.  I remember my mom came to dig me out of my black hole and he screamed at her the entire time she was here.  Anytime she tried to help him, he screamed and growled and ran to mom.  Two years and two babies later, Rylan is finally starting to let other people help him.   To let other people in.

My husband has been home for a year and seven months now after 15 months of roller coaster up and down, in and out.  In the beginning Rylan still screamed at him, refused to let him help him with anything, and refused to pay him attention or give him affection.  I can't imagine how badly that hurt my husband, but at the same time perhaps it was a hurt he needed to feel.  I know it saddened me to see how much damage had been done to my RyRy, how as a 2-3 year old he already harbored so much distrust, anger and pain.  I kept encouraging my husband to keep trying, but to let Rylan decide when he was ready, not to force it.  Little by little, Rylan let him back in.  It wasn't even every day at first.  But maybe just five minutes a week, he let his guard down and started to rebuild his relationship with his dad.  Now, after baby six, Rylan realized mom can't do everything.  He still has his moments where for whatever logic in his cute little noggin, only mom can make his cereal or start his movie or wipe his bum, but for the most part he will first ask for me then if needed ask for dad.  It was funny in the beginning of his trust building he would ask me then after I said hold on a minute, say, "can I ask Dad to do it?"  Rylan gives his dad hugs and kisses freely now as well, only on a really bad day will he refuse, and I love to see that healing and forgiveness that has taken place inside my sweet boys heart.

Back to today.  I was supposed to take Rylan to an open house to meet his teacher, the same teacher from our attempt last year, at the elementary school sponsored pre-school.  All summer I have been fretting about school for him.  Rylan, unfortunately still has a lot of the anger that he doesn't know how to handle.  I missed many teaching moments with him in some of my darker days and learning how to correct that has not been the easiest as I have my own impatience and anger to combat.  With this anger, Rylan tends to scream and yell when he doesn't get his way, and he also has a hitting issue.  With these issues, which I know where they stem from, family break down, and hello, fourth boy aggression, not to mention the overload of testosterone flowing through our house, but not everyone knows that (sometimes even those who do are not very understanding, another story).  So the elementary school preschool also has special needs kids, and Rylan is to be a role model and helper as well as a student.  Well, I was just feeling uneasy, as I had all summer.  Maybe it would have been good for him to be a role model, but my fear was that it would hinder his already faltering social skills rather than build them, add to his anxiety and anger, rather than diffuse them.  My fear was he would be too overwhelmed to grow.

At 8:30 this morning (after many many promptings in my thoughts, I'm not the best listener) I sent a text to #2's and #3's preschool teacher, who I loved, but she didn't offer 3 year old classes last year, and asked her if she had a spot for Rylan knowing that she probably started class today.  I had to swallow a bit of pride, hello flakey mom, texting the first morning of school asking to sign her kid up.  But, once she confirmed that she would love to have him and yes he could start today, I felt SO MUCH BETTER!

I am still nervous about how he will do, if he will scream at other kids, or hit them, or scream at the teachers, but I feel better.  I feel at peace with where he is.  This teacher knows me.  She knows we had a rough patch.  I will keep praying that I will know how to teach him, as well as my other boys, instead of react to their behaviors.  It is much easier to react than to teach, but not beneficial in the least.  I will also keep praying that Rylan will find a friend, a kid that is calm, and will see that you can react to life calmly and maybe I will learn to put that lesson into practice as well.

I am thankful for what some call intuition and what I like to call the spirit.  I am thankful that as mothers and parents, we have this gift, for without it I would surely be stumbling blindly throughout this life.  I am so thankful to have three, count them 1-2-3, mornings a week with only two kids at home.  It is so quiet!  Yes, my two year old has already picked up baby from the bouncy seat and hopefully set, not dropped, him on the floor after I hastily set him there unbuckled trying to get something done more quickly, but another lesson learned, and it is so quiet!  I am thankful for forgiveness and healing and the tender moments that make all of the hard work worth it.  I am thankful that after talking about the rules of school, that Rylan quietly went in and sat down and even though I could see he was a little nervous and overwhelmed when all the others started coming in that instead of crying and clinging to me, he asked me for a piece of gum to feel better (this is his prize for going to primary at church without crying).  I am thankful for the days I focus on my boys instead of reacting to them.  I am thankful for learning and growth.  I hope to continue down this path and pray that the stumbling rocky days will get far and fewer in between.  

Robin Williams

This is maybe a week too late (no longer main stream news, perhaps already forgotten by some), however, that is my M.O. lately (or always). . . late.  It's amazing how the death of a stranger who we all felt like we knew and loved can hit so hard.  I was truly saddened by Robin Williams' death, yet I truly knew very little about this man.  I knew his characters, his talent to make others laugh, his face, his voice, but I did not know him.  Like most who loved him, I never met him, I never even read about his life, his struggles, his heartaches.  I watched him pretend to be someone else.  I laughed as he made me forget life.  I loved Robin Williams as an actor as so many others, and perhaps acting was his saving grace.  I don't know, but this is what I would like to think.  I would like to believe that acting was his escape, his love, his one thing that kept him grounded and free from the pain that tormented him.  I don't know his struggles, his trials, his childhood, but sadly I can relate to his dark secret he tried to bury with the laughter of others.  

Sadly, ashamedly, and embarrassingly enough I have traveled down the dark corridor of depression throughout my life.  I know the four major trials that have caused my depression, my darkness.  I know the four life events that have trapped my mind inside a fearful, exhausted, state of survival.  I have felt the crushing pain that at times I didn't know how to explain.  I have felt so beat down and worn out that accomplishing even remedial tasks like the dishes,  brushing my teeth or changing a diaper have felt like lifting the weight of a mountain.  Despite, the countless number of doors to escape this dark corridor, like family, friends, exercise, or other self care, even turning the knob to end the pain feels impossible at times.  Many have asked how Robin Williams could be so loved and still feel like there was no way out.  I don't know what pushed him to feel like there was nothing left to live for, that escape was his only option, but I do know how that feels.  

Nearly two years ago, as I continued to live in my most recent life altering trauma, I called my person after yet another huge boulder was dropped in my wake.  Now, I believe we all have a person, someone we can talk to even when we don't feel like we can talk to our closest loved ones.  For me, when I can't talk to my mom, or my husband, or my sisters, I need my person.  My person is the friend that no matter how long it has been since we have talked, we can always pick up where we left off.  My person is the one that I have shared my pain with and she has shared hers with me.  My person is my soulmate, my sister from another mister, my best friend.  My person, she knows who she is, lost her brother to suicide the day we met.  This fact alone solidifies that she is my person because when I was feeling my lowest, when I was ready to give up, despite the fact that I knew it would hurt her more than anyone else to tell her how I was feeling, I knew I could.  Back to the ashamed part of me, I have wanted to give up.  That day, I no longer wanted to keep going.  I have felt low, kicked down, defeated, and for some reason this day felt like I couldn't continue.  I remember saying to her, "I am so sorry, you are the worst person to say this to, but right now I want to die, I don't want to live anymore.  I am too tired" and she responded, crying, "I know, it's ok that you say it, but please, please don't."  

That day was the first time I had wanted to give up.  That day was the first time I considered this life too hard to continue.  My trials have not been small, in fact my sister and I were just applauding how stable and normal we are considering the lives we have survived, but I have always felt strong enough, even if lost at times, but strong enough to at least survive, until that day.  I think once you let that thought in, it comes more and more easily the next time.  Many days I have been stuck and let it creep back in that this life is too hard.  I've let the black monster enter my head and thought, I don't want to live this anymore.  I thank God that I have never even entertained the gruesome how, and that I have so many people holding me here and I am thankful for my person.  I am thankful she said the words she said to me that day because for some reason it was enough.  So, please to anyone out there suffering, don't stop reaching out.  And to anyone who knows and loves someone who is suffering, don't stop saying, "please, please don't".  It may just be enough to keep them.  

I am also thankful to have received the tools from therapy to manage my survival level.  I am hopeful one day that I will overcome the survival mode and will step into the growth mode once again.  I have done it before.  I am confident I will grow again and someday I will not get trapped in my dark corridors and I will be able to stay in the light even if sometimes the sun is shadowed by the rain.  

A Child's Prayer...

                      

Being this boys mom has been both a major challenge and immensely rewarding.  He is a special kid.  Last night he decided he would say family prayers without any help. ...

"Please bless...  That mom won't get mad, that we can fix our basement, that we can clean our rooms and get a puppy, that dad has a safe plane drive, and no crashes or anything, that dad can find our house, that we can be nice, that Jesus can find our house, that the Holy Ghost comes to our house, that we listen to mom and dad."

I thought it was so adorable and sweet that I texted it to my hubby who is out of town again.  We then talked about what a sweet, amazing, funny, so full of personality this kid is.  This is the kid that has pushed my buttons and caused me much grief, worry and stress in his short six years, but he is also the boy that comes up with the funniest things ever imaginable (hot chickens that if you eat them you'll explode and die . . . Or tells people,"You need to shave your pits!"), tells me I'm beautiful and the best mom every day, giggles as much as he cries, lives to be running around outside, talks nonstop about anything and everything, asks more questions in a row than the most inquisitive mind, comes up with the most creative excuses for everything ("You know why I took so long? Because I saw some ants and a I had to watch them."), loves to be silly (se wat ta tee lalalala), loves potty humor more than any boy I've encountered (fart, fart, farty, fart fart... I have serious gas problems), has the cutest Brooklyn accent for someone never stepping foot in New York, and so much more.  

He came into this world just as he lives in it, in a hurry!  Hubby and I delivered him ourselves at home with only a ten minute warning that I was actually in labor.  He is my tiny runt of the litter, my fire cracker, my comedian, my energizer bunny, my fighter, my story teller, my beautiful eyelashes, cutest freckle nosed Gavinator, Nader, stinker pants, sweet boy :) 

To Infinity and Beyond . . .

Whoa, I didn't realize how long it had been.  For some reason I was receiving error after error each time I tried to write a post so I took a break as it was causing me only frustration, I did not realize how long of a break it actually became.  Well, I am back!  

I'm not sure where to start, so I will start with a happy announcement . . .  

Enzo Reed Dickerson was born June 10, 2014 

Weight 8'7

21 inches long

This little boy, although very unplanned, is a huge huge blessing in our home.  Every single one of us love little boy number six so so much.  He is the sweetest baby, only cries if he needs something like food (which sometimes feels like he eats all day), he has smiled since only a couple weeks old, he laughs in his sleep (adorable!), and he already responds and interacts when people talk to him.  We love this baby!  He definitely calms the crazy five, he handles the smothering love of each of them very well, and although he has had a smashing (a little too much love from the brothers sometimes) or two or three he is surviving this crazy family.  

It's a little hard to believe sometimes that I am the mom of SIX boys.  I have given birth to SIX babies in the last ten years.  I have been pregnant or nursing most of my twelve years of marriage.  I have thrown up countless times.  I have cried from overwhelming hormones and unexplainable love.  I have had more stress and sleepless nights than I can remember.  I have laughed at the funny things my boys say.  I have felt immense joy and peace watching my newborns sleep.  I have yelled in frustration and cried afterwards in shame.  I have wiped fevered brows and cleaned up more throw up and poop than I would like to recall (yes poop makes me angry).  I have changed hundreds of thousands of diapers I am sure.  I have kissed owies, and learned how to be a healer.  I have enjoyed bike rides and park time and reading and so much more.  I have wanted to give up.  I have wanted to run away.  I have felt  more love than my heart can comprehend.  I have learned from each child.  I am still learning how to be a mom.  

I believe all of my children are special and have been a blessing in their own way.  I believe my fifth child was sent to our family to save my husband.  I believe our sixth baby was sent here to save me.  Some days he is the only thing that keeps me sane.  Holding him and feeling his innocence and peace heals my soul.  Talking to him and seeing his sweetest smile every time brings me joy.  Life has been overwhelming for nearly three years now.  Before that life was hard.  Life has truly never been easy for me.  I know the Lord sent this baby to me to keep me grounded.  To keep me safe from me.  I still have my moments where I don't believe I can handle the fighting and chaos that comes with SIX boys, and not just any six boys, but six boys that have already had to live through trauma.  Our family is healing, but for some reason the healing feels so much harder than what broke us in the first place.  While we were going through our major trial a couple years ago, I felt so much stronger than I have felt since everything started to mend.  I am not sure why, but I do know that this baby was sent to remind me what is truly important.  I've said it before, but maybe God kept sending me babies so that I could finally get it right.  I have definitely learned and grown with each child.  I am learning still, and definitely have much to improve on.  

Like every pregnancy, I hated every minute of it, thats a lie actually.  I have always always loved to feel them move in my belly, it is such a miraculous feeling to bond with your baby before he is even born, that part I love.  Because I hate the rest of pregnancy, however, I was very anxious to have this baby at least a month before his due date.  Bring on the crazy!  I tend to clean and re-clean and clean again and again until my babies finally arrive weeks later.  I also tend to start trying to to walk the baby out weeks before.  This time I was up to four miles a day in the heat trying to bring on labor.  Of course, like always, it didn't work.  To add to the stress of trying to have a baby, some women are calm and patient I am sure (I am not), my husband and his partners decided to open a call center in the Dominican Republic a week before my due date.  So, sixth baby, anxious mom, and an out of town husband.  He left for a week came home for three days, and then had to leave again.  I had a three day window to have this child.  For most women, this wouldn't be too big of a deal.  They could schedule to be induced and know when the little bundle would arrive.  Because I have my babies at home, this is a little more difficult.  

So I alerted my midwives of my predicament and we made a plan.  Day 1 hubby was home, I was dilated to 4cm and 50% effaced, so I took castor oil to try to speed things up.  Fail.  My mom came that night and said, "Well, I am here, so we have to have a baby."  No pressure right?  Day 2, 2 mile walk up a hill, and zero progression, so we try castor oil again.  I have no faith in the castor oil at this point, so I also make an appointment with my chiropractor.  While adjusting my very unbalanced hips, he suggests eggplant as a way to induce labor.  At this point I am so desperate to have this baby before my husband leaves in less than two days that we buy some on the way home.  I kid you not, the moment I finished eating my eggplant parmesan for lunch I started having contractions every five minutes or less.

However, I am skeptical, as I have had false labors in the past, that this is real.  So, I make my sister time my contractions for an hour before calling the authorities that be.  They were ranging between 1 and 3 minutes for about half an hour before she convinced me it was real.  My midwives were there within the hour, contractions were still going about the same, they got all their equipment set up, and checked my progress.  I was dilated to a 6+ almost fully effaced.  Then, my midwife broke my water to speed things up, as my tiny headed babies tend to float until the water is gone so that they can actually engage their little noggins.  This definitely sped things up.  

Within twenty minutes my contractions were steadily less than two minutes apart and getting stronger and stronger.  Forty-five minutes in They were getting to my intense, have to focus on breathing, pain level.  After about 3 of those, I asked, "Should I be feeling like I want to push, should we check me?"  The midwives all just said, "whatever you want to do, you let us know when you want to push and you can push."  Sometimes, begin in control of your own birth is a little too much, I wanted someone to tell me what to do!  You would think after 5 babies that this would be second nature to me, but something about those few intense contractions makes you a little nervous and you almost forget all you know, and all of my births were very different until it came to pushing and then the babes all come quickly, some quicker than others.  

So, I had one more extremely painful contraction, the kind where you want to go inside your head and forget the pain (yes, I know this is only the fourth painful contraction, but still) and I decide I want to get in the bath to ease the pain because in my mind there is no way I went from a 6 to a 10 and ready to push in 45 minutes.  Well, my body knew differently.  As I was climbing into the bath, I yelled to everyone in the other room, "Oh, I am ready to push, OH THIS BABY IS COMING!" (tears as I type) I am on my knees in the water as I push, whether I want to or not, and little babes head is out.  The midwives and my mom get there just as I am pushing again seconds later.  My hubby runs in the room and baby boy Enzo flies into the water, the assistant midwife catching him just in time, her gloves barely on. 

Now, I never knew this, but the coolest things about water births is that it decreases the mom's pain, helps prevent tearing, and the baby doesn't inhale the water as long as it is warm the baby won't take his first breath.  The temperature change is what shocks them into gasping for breath.  We had a tiny scare, which for me was a first, the cord was wrapped all around him, around his neck, his body his legs.  It had to have been the world's longest cord!  The midwives, calmly talked me through as they untangled him, keeping him underwater until he was free so that he could freely take his first breath.  My midwife reassured me that he was fine, he wasn't blue, he didn't look oxygen deprived at all, he was just tangled.  Needless to say, that minute it took to untangle him felt very very long!  I was more than relieved when I finally heard his beautiful cry.  (Crying again.)  

As cool as the water birth was, even though I didn't use the less pain benefit really, I would opt out next time.  Here is why.  I do not like to see the mess.  I don't do blood and yuck well.  I don't pass out or anything, I get crazy nervous when my kids are bleeding a lot, but I just don't like it.  I never have a desire to see the placenta, or make a video of the birth, its a miracle but it is also yuck.  Well, when you deliver in the water you see all the yuck in the water, and you are sitting in it, gross.  Baby is still attached, waiting on placenta, but I immediately want to get out of the bath and into the shower.  Of course, I had to wait on the placenta to do that, but despite all their protests, I was not waiting for the placenta, in the bath, with the yuck.  So they helped me climb out of my ginormous, deep tub (good thing I have long legs) while holding baby still attached to me onto my ridiculously tall bed (thank you long legs again).  Now, the placenta took longer than normal to want to be delivered, perhaps this should have been a sign, but it finally came and was all in tact.  

I was feeling fine, tired like normal,  emotionally exhausted, relieved he was here and that labor was over, but just as good or better than normal.  I fed baby.  The midwife checked baby.  I took a shower, finally, wash the yuck off!  The midwife checked baby, weighed and measured the bouncing little boy.  I ate some food, I drank some juice.  The midwife checked me.  It had been at least 2 hours since the birth, maybe longer, and I seemed great, so the midwives cleaned up and left.  

While in the shower earlier  I passed a few larger clots, which for me was very not normal, I asked the midwife about them and she said they were totally fine.  Well, the second time I got up to go to the bathroom, things were not fine.  When I stood, I felt an enormous gush, my post baby diaper (so lovely) nearly fell off.  I barely made it to the toilet, but I was having tunnel vision, seeing stars and feeling very very weak.  I called my mom to help me and as I stood up, I blacked out and barely crawled to the carpet before passing out.  I lay there, for what felt like an hour, but was actually only 5-10 minutes slipping in and out of consciousness apparently making jokes when I was slightly coherent.  When I finally came to, my mom and hubby helped me onto the bed.  I felt awful, weak, exhausted.  Soon, I felt like I needed to go to the bathroom again, as my diaper was filling up.  I made it to the bathroom barely when another gush came and this time it was so large the depends actually did fall to the floor from the weight of it.  My mom barely got me sitting before I lost consciousness again.  I was out a good five minutes, no response, before she finally got me to respond at all.  

This time there were no jokes, I was actually scared.  She got me to drink some vinegar, cayenne and honey, and then I was out again.  Apparently I had passed several softball sized clots.  My mom, seemed so calm the few seconds I would fade into reality, telling her I was scared and this was not normal, but she was scared.  When my mom is scared, you know something is wrong.  As I sat there unconscious on the toilet for 15 minutes, my husband called the midwives.  They said to get me lying flat and they would be there soon.  As soon as I stayed awake for more than a few seconds, my mom and hubby finally got me to the floor.  Crazy how far a couple feet can feel.  As I lay there I passed out one more time before the midwife arrived.  My mom kept forcing the vinegar concoction down me and I finally managed to stay alert.  My body felt like lead.  I could barely lift my arms or head.  I was freezing and apparently as white as a ghost.  I was scared.  

I didn't know until later, but my husband was also out of his mind terrified.  I am so amazed at him and my mom and how they remained calm for me.  It was so touching days later when my mother-in-law texted me and told me how he had called her crying because he was so worried he might lose me.  Sadly, I still need reassurances to know that he loves me that much.  Another story.  

Finally the midwife arrived and she worked so fast and knew exactly what to do and I was impressed and so grateful I had picked her to deliver my babies.  She gave me two medications to induce contractions to help slow the bleeding (which also caused me to have swelling and migraines I've never experienced for the next two weeks.  Also, another story).  Because I had lost so much blood, my fluids and electrolytes were also dangerously low, so she gave me three IV bags full of fluids.  Finally, after the third one, I was able to get up without passing out again, the previous attempts I could barely move and lost vision once again.  

While laying there helpless, my husband and my home teacher gave me a priesthood blessing.  In our church we believe that worthy males can still hold the priesthood, or keys to the power of God.  When they give a blessing, they place their hands on your head and say a blessing that they receive though the spirit of God.  After the blessing, my fears were gone, and I was able to move again.  For a while, I was truly scared that things were not going to be ok.  I had never experienced anything even close to this with any of my other births.  

Finally, after what felt like an entire night since I gave birth, I was able to climb back onto my ridiculously tall bed, (thank you long legs, seriously its tall, any normal legged person would need a stool after giving birth) I held my sweetest baby boy and then I slept, sort of.  I don't truly sleep for at least 24 hours after I give birth.  I don't like to put my babies down, or let them out of my sight until I reach sheer exhaustion.  

It was long long day, a long week, a long nine months really.  However, I am so grateful for my sweet Enzo, our family wouldn't be complete without him, I love him so so much. He is a miracle, as all babies are, and the experience after his birth was a miracle in so many ways as well.