Need Breastfeeding Support? April 22, 2009

Go here: Custom-Made Milk

And don’t delay!
I would not have made it this far breastfeeding my little Jaxon if not for her help and the help of those like her.
Run. Don’t walk. Go now!

This Year I Will February 19, 2009

I have been sitting on an urge. I haven’t known what that urge was until I read this post. Now I know.

There are many, many charities at home and abroad that need our help. Many. Too many.

Rich and I have given to many, many different flavors of need. Many. So many.

But this is different.

I read that post and I made a decision.

• I will not sponsor a child in a foreign country this year.
• I will not send money to drill a well or provide medicine or for a mission trip to anywhere this year (with the exception of the ones I’ve already promised a donation to).
• I will not support my local Christian radio station this year.
• I will not send money to big time domestic charities (Amer Heart Assoc, Amer Diabetes Assoc, Salv Army, etc) this year.

No. I won’t be involved in any of this type of giving this year.

How can you help?

Really I can do my own work on this one. But if you are local (as in, you live within 20 miles of me) and you know of someone truly in need like this lady and her baby who was mentioned in the post I just linked you to (yeah, click on it and read it — it’s short and it will do you good) then let me know immediately.

I’ll be on the phone tomorrow with the local hospitals, CareNet locations, and churches. I’ll find her. She’s out there. Her baby is sick and needs to eat. I will feed that baby the formula my child doesn’t need because I am able to breastfeed him.

Tonight — when Jaxon wakes me up at 4:00 in the morning for some boob time (as we affectionately call it) I will be so proud of my ability to feed my child a full meal straight from my healthy body. And I will think of her. I will wonder who she is who can’t feed her child a healthy meal. I will pray for her and her baby. I will ask God to reveal her to me. Then I will feed her baby the formula my child doesn’t need until her child is a year old.

This year I will do this.
Because I can.

This year…
what will you do?

Differing Opinions February 4, 2009

I am learning so much about being a Mom right now. I consider myself a veteran for the most part, however there are a few things I didn’t know. Because of this new information, I have been asking a lot of questions to friends of mine who have experienced what I am experiencing now. And you know what — some of them differ greatly in how they answer my questions. It’s very interesting.

I take what I can use from each of them and leave the rest. This is how life is done anyway. And it’s working.

Motherhood doesn’t come naturally. Sure the pregnancy is pretty natural. The birth can be totally natural too. My friend LB has given birth to all 3 of her children as naturally as one can. She’s a trooper! But, after that, it’s mostly trial and error. Things start to come together and may seem natural, but really it’s that Mom and Baby have learned a few things from one another. A Mommy learns what different sounding cries mean. Babies learn their Mother’s voice and unique touch and take comfort in that familiarity.

Breastfeeding doesn’t come naturally either. The body’s ability to produce milk to sustain the life of a growing child is totally natural. The ins and outs of feeding the Baby are learned. Trial and error.

Babies are resilient. It serves a parent good to remember that — especially when guilt feelings surface. Am I holding the baby enough? Am I talking to the baby enough? Am I bonding with the baby enough? Am I drinking enough water for milk production? Is giving a pacifier to the baby a good thing or a bad thing? Is lack of sleep causing me to resent the baby? And so on…

My Mom has not given me much advice unless I’ve asked for it. She’s very wise like that. My Mother-in-law is fairly similar in that she does not interfere and I think she can tell when she’s on the edge of “the line” and she won’t cross it. She’s wise too. My Sisters and my Sister-in-law are available whenever I call upon them. My friends are greatly supportive too. It’s important for a Mother to have a large pool of women from which she can draw upon. I am so blessed in that regard.

But not all of them agree. And the good thing is, none of them will insist that I do it their way and only their way. It’s sort of an unspoken thing that all Moms know. We all know that it’s ok to give advice and it’s ok to tell how we do things with our own kids, but it’s not ok to insist another Mother do it like we do it. We have a silent understanding that not all parents are the same and it’s a good thing.

It’s a good thing.

The Last One as Four January 9, 2009

Well, this is it. Every time we are about to have a baby I go through these “last” thoughts. This is our last weekend as a family of four. In fact, this is our last Friday as a family of four. Next Friday I will be discharged (God willing) and we will be on our way as a family of five.

Enjoy your weekend. We plan to do a whole bunch of nothing, truly. I need to rest as much as I can.

You’ll get one last post from me on Monday and then I may not be back on for a few days. Melanie will post on Tuesday when she can to give you all the glorious details about the baby so check in for that fun day of awesomeness.

I will try for internet access from my laptop at the hospital. If I can manage to make it happen, I will post pictures.

Thanks for visiting Candid Chatter. Thank you for the thoughts and prayers. Thank you for being my internet buddies. Thank you for everything.

See you soon!

My Precious Little Life January 8, 2009

I
Can’t
Wait
To
Meet
You

Will you look like him?
Will you look like me?
Will you look like them?
Blue eyes? Brown? Green?
Blond hair? Brown? Red?
Chubby cheeks?

Mommy loves you.
Daddy loves you.
Brianna & Jeremy love you too.
You have a huge family.
Just wait till they all see you.
Soon, my lovely one. Soon.

*all photos courtesy of
Google Images*

You’ve Got Male December 30, 2008

So according to me I am 38+ weeks pregnant. According to my flawed doctors and their reliance on ultrasound at 7 weeks gestation (yes, that’s sarcasm) I am 37+ weeks gestation. Doesn’t really matter though — both get me to full-term (a full-term singleton pregnancy is one that reaches 37 weeks — that’s when baby lungs are fully developed).

Ok. So what. Right?

Well I am here to tell you that I have made it this far — inches from giving birth — and the gender “secret” has been utterly ruined. People just aren’t used to keeping gender a secret in our current times. Now, I thought my Mother-in-law had spoiled it awhile ago when we thought there may be a cyst on the baby’s brain. She was (besides my medical crew) the only one who knew the gender b/c she went with me to the ultrasound and I told the sonographer that it was ok to tell her. But I was certain she’d keep her lips shut. So certain that I allowed her to come. Well when I got the news she did the whole “he, him, his” thing as she was trying to console me. Unbelievable.

Then came the series of ultrasounds (nine) and echocardiograms (three) on the little wee one. I still didn’t know the gender. I refused to look at the screen during examination near the nether regions.

The perinatologist, an unemotional guy I’m sure due to the nature of his job, slipped once and called the baby “he”. He didn’t react, but ever so slickly went back to calling the baby “the baby”. Hmm.

Out of about 100 people, I kid you not, all but 3 have said “it’s a boy” and a few were complete strangers (remember Home Depot guy?).

Well I had a regular OB check and non-stress test Monday. The midwife decided to examine me in the NST (non-stress test) room. During a NST my baby and my uterus are monitored. I can hear the baby’s heartbeat the whole time. It’s my job to click this button thingy whenever I feel it move. The goal is for the baby’s heart rate to go up during movement. If it goes down, there is trouble. All three of my full-term babies have repeatedly passed this test. Thank God!

Ok so the midwife is coming into the room saying all loud and proud “that little boy is so active, I can hear his heartbeat all the way down the hallway, he’s a happy little guy in there”. For crying in your Cheerios!!! Are you serious? I have gone an entire pregnancy without knowing for sure if it’s a boy or not until exactly 2 weeks from my c-section. Aaaaahhhhhh [me screaming]!!!!! You have GOT to be kidding me!! Someone who shall remain nameless (Dorothy the midwife) apparantly did not read the part of my chart which said “gender unknown to Mom by choice”.

So the slips were slips and could very well have meant nothing because a lot of people say “he”. However, “little boy, little guy” is waaaay more than a slip.

I know it’s rare to not know gender these days. I am well aware of that. But it was so cool hearing Rich call out Jeremy’s gender in the operating room. I just wanted that experience one more time. This is it for us. Once our newest baby boy is born I will have no more pregnancies. Tubes tied. Snipped. Burned. Kaput!

Am I mad? No. I had a feeling it’s a boy too. Lots of similarities with the end of my pregnancy with little Jay-Jay. But I didn’t know for sure.

Am I disappointed? Greatly. I feel like my moment of hearing that excitement in Rich’s voice as he gets to tell me we just had a little baby boy has been robbed.

I won’t dwell. I won’t. What can we do? Nothing.

But [sigh] I just think that sucks a little. Ya know?

Google Images
“newborn boy”

For Them to Carry On December 8, 2008

Dear Future In-Laws to My Child,

My husband and I have raised our kids to the best of our ability. We have brought them up in a loving environment which promotes self-expression and acceptance. We have encouraged them to become whoever they desire to become as long as they work hard and honor God. We have enabled them to receive the best education we could afford. We have taught them through our own actions to be generous people. We promise that your child is safe in our family and in a relationship with our child.

Our kids were taught not to judge a person based on their appearance. In fact, appearance received as much merit in our family as the length of someone’s eyelashes. It has been irrelevant. We have taught them to determine if a person is of proper character based on their actions alone. We have encouraged them to align themselves with people who have integrity.

Our kids were taught that hard work and hard practice are the ingredients for success.

Our kids were taught to love others regardless of how those people treated them. We have told them that it is ok not to like someone, but that they are still to be kind to that person.

Our kids grew up in an environment filled with outward affection and howling laughter. We hug, we kiss, we snuggle. We laugh, we crack up, we giggle. They are happy and content people. They have always been surrounded by love and acceptance.

Our kids were taught that getting an education is important to career success. We have told them throughout their lives, starting when they were toddlers, that they can be whatever they want to be as long as they do well in school and respect their teachers.

Our kids were taught that hospitality is part of friendship. Our home has always been a place to celebrate life whether through birthdays, holidays, or just because we can days. We open our doors and welcome groups of people to share meals and good times with us. They have many friends and our home has served as a safe place for them their whole lives.

Our kids were taught to have compassion for the needy people of this world. They know how fortunate they are and desire to share their good fortune with others. They are not selfish or self-centered. They are generous and caring.

Our kids were taught from birth to present time about Jesus Christ. They have received Christian educations. They have been involved in many youth activities geered towards shepherding their hearts so that they would long to serve God all of their lives. They started memorizing Bible verses at a very young age and have cultivated personal relationships with Christ their Savior. Of all the things we have taught our kids, this is the most important to us.

Our kids are not perfect. But they are good enough.

Rest assured that your child has chosen a more than suitable spouse and we will do everything we can to be there for them whenever they need us.

Welcome to the family.

Respectfully,
Heidi Reed

What would
you add?

Many Years Later December 5, 2008

A certain person I know has, for years, said negative and demeaning things about people who have large families. Things like “they’re crazy”, “they must be nuts”, “how can they give their kids enough attention”, “it’s ridiculous (or irresponsible) to have that many kids”. And so on.

Believe it or not, I have kept my mouth shut — taking it with a grain of salt each time.
That is, until today.

I have had it up to my hairline and beyond with these kinds of remarks. It doesn’t help that this person and I had a heated discussion yesterday regarding the dumbest advice I think I’ve ever been given by a person who has no right even breathing a word on the subject considering this person’s lack of responsible behavior in a certain area. That is vague on purpose.

My parents raised 7 children. My paternal grandparents raised 13 while my maternal grandparents raised 8. To say I come from a big family is the understatement of the year. I believe I have somewhere around 75 first cousins with both families combined. I have no idea how many of those cousins have produced children of their own. I’m sure the numbers now are well over 100 with first and second cousins combined. And we’re still having children. Some of my first cousins are still under the age of 10. I think a couple may even be under age 5. Huge family! Absolutely humongous!

In my family segment, my precious parents (who have been married for over 36 years) have their ninth grandchild on the way (our wee one). One of my sisters is trying to get pregnant with her 2nd. One of my sisters has three girls. My brother has 2 girls. My youngest sister just got married last weekend. Two of my siblings are in serious relationships, but not married yet. That leaves a whole bunch of room for more nieces and nephews for me and many more grandchildren for my parents of awesomeness. I think Christmas, one day, will be unbelievably expensive for all of us. Yikes!!

So for anyone to condemn large families to me is like calling my entire family a bunch of idiots.

Not a good idea.
It’s an even worse idea while I’m all chock full of hormones and 8 months pregnant.
Yeah. Dumb move.

So I did what any upstanding young woman with her third child on the way would do. I shot the person dead and now I’m going to jail.

Nah. In my mind I wanted to rip out hair and poke out eyeballs though.

First of all, both of my lovely heathens were fighting and yelling in the seat right behind me. The person on the phone heard the commotion and said “what would you do if you had 10 of them”. I said “I’d throw every last one out the window”. We chuckled. Then the person said “well what do you think about people who do have 10 kids then — they are nuts, aren’t they”? I stopped the chuckle right then. “You know what” I said. “You’ve been saying derogatory things about people who have a lot of kids for many years now and I’ve put up with it. I’ve been patient. I’ve been kind. But you must understand that when you say things like that you are putting down my entire family and that hurts my feelings. I don’t like it even a little bit and it doesn’t amuse me.” The person sounded taken aback and said “what well I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I just mean that I couldn’t handle it”. I received and accepted an apology and then quickly got off the phone.

Right after that the girls at Subway started in on me having a girl and a boy already and what made me decide to have another child since I have one of each. I must be crazy they say and all three laugh it up. I played along. Deep inside I was painfully aware of the way I am viewed by society. I have too many kids. I am crazy to want more. How do I do what I do? Why? How? Ha ha ha this is so funny and entertaining.

No.

It’s not funny. It’s not entertaining.
It’s disgusting.

I am proud of my family. I am proud of my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings, and cousins who have decided to grow their families despite what anyone else thinks or says. I had a wonderful childhood. I would change nothing about it. I love my family deeply.

I’m sick of being the butt of jokes. I am sick of being the circus who just arrived because it’s oh such a novelty to ask Heidi to tell the whole room full of people how many cousins/aunts/uncles or whatnot she has. I can hear the circus music play as the laughter fills the room along with the wide-eyed expressions on the faces of unbelieving or astonished people.

My family is not a circus.
My family is not crazy.
My family is awesome.

If it were up to me, I’d have more children. Not the natural way, however. But if Rich would open his heart to it I’d certainly adopt — at least one, maybe more.

I love kids.
I grew up surrounded by love.
My family may not have lots of money, but they sure do have lots of love.
An overabundance of it, in fact.

And. It. Makes. Me. Proud.

Footsie December 3, 2008

As I was driving to yet another doctor’s appointment, I felt something hard at the very tippy top of my stomach. Neat! Head? No. Butt? No. Foot? Yes!!

I used to play games with Brianna when she was in utero. She’d push her foot to my stomach at the top. I’d rub it. She’d leave it there for a minute while I rubbed. She’d move it for a minute or two and then she’d do it again. Over and over we’d do this almost daily at the end of my pregnancy. She still loves to have her feet rubbed.

Jeremy would push his feet up and then start circling them around. I couldn’t rub his feet because as soon as I did he’d hide them from me. Once he was born I found out why. The boy is super ticklish. Cute, huh?

This baby seemed to like having a foot rub. I loved feeling the tiny little foot pushing on me. It’s so small. Seemed about 4 or 5 inches from toes to heel. Adorable.

It’s moving all over the place right now. Just when I start to think it has run out of room the womb gymnastics begin again. This is my favorite part about being pregnant. This is how I bond with my babies before they are born. This is something only I can experience with him or her. Others can feel it move if I tell them where to put their hand. But I know each and every little twitch. It’s me and the baby right now. So sweet and precious. Moments I won’t forget. Just us.

Google Images

I am So Glad it Worked November 18, 2008

I told you about meeting Summer at the playground. Well let me tell you what happened after she left.

I got tired very quickly of pushing my kids on the swings. It takes a lot out of me to do anything physical right now. I say this as my back throbs and I can barely walk after babysitting all day and a super long drive home. Anyway, I told the kids I needed to sit down on the bench and to please play on the other stuff there. They did fine for the first 20 minutes. Then I decided it was inching ever too close to naptime and we needed to leave.

I gave the usual 5 minute warning. “Kids, we are leaving in 5 minutes.”
“You have 3 minutes left.”
“One more minute.”
“Alright, turkeys, it’s time to go now.”

The response at that point is usually “one more minute, mom, pleassssse?”

I give in. Always. I give in. What’s another 60 seconds?

Brianna has been telling me on a daily basis “you’re not my mom, I’m not your daughter anymore” when she isn’t getting her way. I’ve tried many different ways of handling this. I’ve even laughed it off and told her she’s being ridiculous. I’ve never made a big deal of it because I don’t want her to think for a second that she’s getting to me. Well, that tactic wasn’t working. And even though she wasn’t hurting my feelings I needed to get her to stop saying that and be more respectful. But how?

Yesterday after they asked for “one more minute, mom” I said “alright, guys, let’s go” and started walking towards the gate. They, of course, threw into hysterics like I was asking them to walk across burning coals on bare feet. For crying out loud! I get no respect [in my best Rodney Dangerfield voice].

Brianna plants her feet, puts her hands on her hips, and screams “you are NOT my mom and I don’t love you anymore”.

Four heads turned to see my reaction — all of them parents.

I laughed and said “is that right”. She said “yes and I’m not your daughter”.
“Are you sure, Brianna, because that means I won’t be responsible for feeding you lunch.”
“I’m sure” she tells me.
“Ok let’s go” I say and open the gate.

She stomps out of the play area and down the stairs into the van. Once inside and safely out of range of parents that might hear me I say “when we get home I will make a phone call and get you a new mommy”.

She. Freaked. Out.

I mean she went ballistic. She wanted daddy.

“No, honey, if I’m not your mommy then daddy is not your daddy. I’ll get you a new daddy too and while I’m at it this also means Jeremy is not your brother and the new baby is not your sibling so you’ll have to hope that your new parents have kids so you can have siblings.”

She cried and kicked and screamed and begged me to be her mommy again.

I said “no and call me Heidi — don’t call me mommy because I am no longer your mommy. Call daddy Rich because he is not your daddy either.”

I think she swallowed her tongue right then. Silence. Well, silence all except for the funny noises she was making as her breathing had been interrupted by the massive earth quake she was causing herself.

I tried not to laugh. Is that evil? I seriously had to stifle it in a big, big way. But somehow I knew this was working. I knew it. I just knew it.

We got about a mile from home when she started apologizing. I told her “thank you for doing that and remember your manners when you meet your new mommy and daddy later today”.

She. Freaked. Out. All. Over. Again.
Balllllllisssssticccc!!

I shoved away the twinge of guilt and the desire to hug her and kiss her and reassure her. I fought the urge to comfort her — and it was there this time.

We got home and daddy came out to help me unload everyone and everything. She looked like she was going to pass out from anger, frustration, fear… all sorts of emotions and her eyes told me she was in agony. I felt bad. I did, but I didn’t stop. I fought it again.

Daddy was not liking what I was doing and asked me twice to stop. I didn’t stop. I told him “she will learn not to ever say those hateful things to me again and this is how I intend to make her stop”. He rolled his eyes at me and I could tell he was very much less than pleased. He hugged her and told her everything would be ok and that she just needed a nap.

Finally, after putting Jeremy down for his nap, I took her by the hand and led her to her room and put her in her bed. I didn’t do my normal lovie routine though. I warned her that if she ever said “you’re not my mommy” to me again that I would pull down her pants and spank her rear end right there in the middle of wherever we are “and I’m not kidding so don’t you dare try it”.

When she woke up from her nap we cuddled, I explained that there is no way I’d give her to another mommy or daddy ever, that she is a very important part of our family, we love her very much, and that she can live with us her whole life if she wants to. BUT!!!! “Do not ever say hateful things to me again because those words hurt mommy and I love you with all my heart.”

She hasn’t said it since.

Twice she almost did, but she caught herself and just walked away with her hands on her hips.

She learned.

It was harsh.

It was hard.

But it worked.

Ever had to pull
out the tough love
card to get through
to your kid?