Project Sleep through the Night

Remember this post?

Sleep deprivation is the worst, isn't it? Thankfully, after writing that post, I had a change in perspective that helped me get through quite a few more sleepless nights. But my frustration about my son's sleep habits always lay right beneath the surface of my emotions, ready to pop up its ugly head at any given time (usually around 3 am).

Then a couple of weeks ago, I read an article about a couple with sextuplets. The wife talked about the point of desperation that they hit with their lack of sleep. (I can't even imagine!) She shared that when their babies were 4 months old, they simply turned off the baby monitor for two weeks and all six of them had learned to sleep through the night since.

Two things crossed my mind:
1) They can get six kids to sleep through the night and I am struggling with just one?!

2) Why haven't I tried that?

And then I remembered why I hadn't tried that. Our two boys share a room. And while, our three year old has amazed me by sleeping through hours of Lincoln crying, I could only imagine the drama that would unfold if mommy and daddy didn't come running if Griffin ever he needed us. There would be therapy bills to pay for sure.

Then it hit me. Wes had to go out of town last weekend. I would let Griffin sleep in my room for those two nights and kill the monitor.

So Project Sleep through the Night began once more--only I slept worse with the monitor off than I did with it on. Partly due to the fact that Griffin wanted to sleep on my head...and also that I couldn't hold myself back from turning on the monitor every hour or two. Oh, and going into check on Lincoln every other hour or two.

But I stuck with the plan of letting Lincoln cry when he did wake up. This meant no running at the first peep to give him his binkie. He had to learn to put himself back to sleep. No mommy intervention allowed.

It's been almost a week since the Project began. This past week, there have been several times that Lincoln has woken up in the night, fussed for a few minutes and then put himself back to sleep. What a good feeling.

The night before last, he slept 10 hours straight. And at this present moment, Lincoln is going on 11 1/2 hours of sleep. Straight.

CAN I GET AN AMEN?!! GLORRRRRRY?! HALLELUJAH?!

Someday I hope I meet that family with sextuplets. I plan on giving all 8 of them big fat smooches.

True Confessions of a Tired Busy Happy Mom

Lincoln just turned 6 months old. I'm running a 10-mile race in May with my cousin. Griffin asked if hot dogs were a vegetable the other day. I gave up Oprah for Lent. I am so looking forward to the end of Daylight Savings Time. I think the way they are doing American Idol this year is cheesy. At first, I was just going to give up ice cream. And why birds don't wear underwear. But then, I just made a chocolate cake instead. How do my children sense when I am up early? Lincoln used to sleep in the bathroom. Do they smell me? I just ate some chocolate cake for breakfast. Now he sleeps in Griffin's room. I'm doing just fine without her, thank you. I am in love with the children's play area at Wegman's. I'm not even Catholic. Is it ok to bribe my son with a fruit roll up to stay in bed? Wes and I have a secret. No, not Lincoln. I'm not pregnant. And why girls don't have beards. We'll tell you soon. So far, I have only run 3 miles. Griffin used to sleep in until 8:30 or 9. I'm pretty proud that I just taught myself how to cross off words. Arby's roastburgers are yummy. I am so looking forward to the end of Daylight Savings Time. Oops. I already said that. Griffin sings "Shot to the Heart" every day. All day long. I read a story about a mom with sextuplets last night. Is that wrong? I just noticed that Lincoln is working hard to push himself forward on the floor. I just got a whole bunch of free stuff from walgreens. When they were four months old, she and her husband turned off the baby monitor so they would learn to sleep through the night. I love to kiss my son's cheeks. They did. Let's see what Lincoln thinks about Baby Einstein. I guess I'm not as tired or busy as I thought I was. Actually, I've run more than 3 miles--just not all at once. He likes it. I cannot wait until I can sit out on my porch in the morning. Why didn't I think of making videos of pretty pictures and classical music? I promise I'm not pregnant.

The Art of Shopping with Children

I told Wes last night that my children may need to go through therapy one day because of me. They suffer a certain trauma almost weekly that may leave a lasting impression on them.

It's called shopping. With one child, the horrors were manageable. As long as his chubby little legs still fit through those leg holes, we were fine (which is until about age 12 in my book). But two children is a whole new world. I mean, what will his therapist think when my older son shares his haunting memories of being trapped in a steel cage for endless hours?

Grocery shopping is among the worst of the offenders. Two children + a pile of food = a lot of smooshed bread. But OH THE JOY the day that I discovered the car cart. Never mind that maneuvering it through the store requires brute strength and an aircraft navigational system...I'll take that over being one of 'those moms' with the screaming children any day.

However, since CVS is my drug of choice...I mean drug store of choice...it means squeezing two of them into a cart the size of my kitchen sink. And then finding room for all of my loot. And keeping Griffin bribed...I mean occupied. Fruit snacks are a blessing.

And why is it that the need to go potty always presents itself at the most inopportune moments? I think Griffin is a fan of the drug store bathrooms that are somewhere in the deep recesses of the stock room and require the help of a sales associate to find.

And then there is the check-out line. I am always so relieved when I find an employee who doesn't mind their credit card machine being attacked by sticky little fruit snack-covered fingers. And since my cvs shopping requires multiple transactions involving higher math and about 12 coupons each, heaven only knows how many packs of lifesavers have been swiped by my little one from those perfectly-eye-level candy shelves. But hey--I probably had a coupon for them anyway.

How about you? Do you have any horror stories? What's your secret to the art of shopping with children? Tell all and help save on my therapy bill when my children finally escape their steel cage.

raw

I was all set to write a happy little post about my favorite memories of 2008, but it's just not working for me.

In an effort to not be superficial, I've decided to share where I'm at today. I so don't want this to sound like a pity party--more like a desperate attempt to gain some perspective.

Long story short. I have deemed the past week and a half 'Project Sleep Through the Night'. As a result of this attempt, Lincoln has gone from being a pretty bad sleeper to a worse sleeper. Much worse.

I knew going into this that it would not be easy. Griffin was not a great sleeper either and I had to work hard to help him learn to sleep through the night as well. But I was not prepared for Lincoln to actually digress in his sleeping habits.

I was also not prepared for the nerve that this would strike with me. I am realizing that this is about so much more than getting a few more hours sleep at night. I think I am not alone when I say that I feel as though a baby's sleeping habits are often used as a measuring stick of success for mothers of newborns. I try not to feel irritated when a gleaming mother reports that her child is now sleeping 12 hours at night. But I do. It's not that I dislike her. It's that I really want to be her. And I don't know what I'm doing wrong.

I also struggle with the reality that I know so many mothers who have children who slept through the night at a very young age. I picture these moms waking after a full night's sleep to the sound of their cooing baby in the next room. Meanwhile, I pull the covers over my head and mutter curses under my breath at the sound of my child awakening yet again.

So, there you have it. I hate the fact that my child is keeping me up at night. I hate that sleep deprivation affects so many other areas of my life, making me feel like I can't be fully present in so many ways.

But so much more than that, I hate how big I have made the 'sleeping through the night' milestone. I have found myself struggling to drink in the moment with Lincoln. I have felt myself holding my breath until that magical moment when I awaken after a full night's sleep and all is well with the world. I crave the day when I can be the mom with the bragging rights. I have been angry that it appears that I am the only mom who can't figure out the 'secret code' to sleep-filled nights.

And so, I write this to remind myself that this beautiful baby boy who laughs and coos at me all day long (and sometimes in the middle of the night too) will never be four and a half months old again. I write this to remind myself that my perspective needs some adjustment. I write this to remind myself that I am not as alone as I feel.

I find myself struggling with even posting this because I so do not want to rely on my blog as a form of pseudo-community. However, I also know that most of you who read this have 'been there' at some point or other and I'm guessing you could help with my perspective as well.

Thanks.

Reframing

Our firstborn son just left to go blueberry picking with our landlords and #2 is sitting contentedly nearby, and will soon be napping, and I find myself facing the age-old mystery of motherhood: what to do next??!!

And so I blog.

Meanwhile, the lunch dishes still sit on the table, and the laundry piles mock me, and the fall decorations call out to me to pull them from their boxes, and the list goes on...

And yet I blog.

I guess it's for the same reason that we take vacations. Unnecessary? Yes. Useless? No.

I guess I am considering this more of a therapy session than a blog. I have been pondering the priorities of motherhood the past couple days and realizing that newborns completely reshape them when they arrive.

It's interesting how it all works. I lived in the nesting stage for months while I was pregnant. I constantly felt the urge to clean and organize and plan (and even cook occasionally)--and spent a good part of my time doing so.

Then it all changed in an instant. This little life entered my world and all such priorities escaped out the window. I am lucky if I find time to shower in the day--cleaning is waaaaay down on the list. I remember coming to the realization when Griffin was first born that I had become a speed eater. I considered eating a waste of precious time and so gobbled my food down as quickly as possible so as to move on to actually accomplish something of value.

By nature, I am task-oriented. I am most content when I have a well-checked off list at the end of the day. But yesterday, I came to the realization that this 'need to accomplish' is not an option at this time in my life. As a mom of two boys, each with their own needs, my to-do list doesn't even get written.

So, I am faced with two options:
1) Feel sorry for myself and long for the day when things return to 'normal' (as I did for most of the day yesterday).
2) Find a way to reframe my priorities during this season of life.

I'm opting for number 2.

I'm realizing that this stage in life is a lot more about being than doing. I spend about 6-7 hours of my day feeding, burping, and changing the baby. I can mourn my time lost during this time or recognize that simply being with my son is a gift--for me and for him.

I also could spend the rest of my day trying to make up for time lost by catching up on those check marks. Or I could

i have to laugh. i got distracted from completing this yesterday and i have no idea what i was going to say next. i think that may be exactly what i was trying to say. i may or may not complete anything--and that's ok.

now, if you will excuse me...i'm going to put a movie on while my boys nap. and i may or may not complete it before i fall sound asleep.

I'm Baaaa-ack!

May it be known that Kaley is officially returning to the land of the living. She may doze off occasionally, but she is alive and well.

I thought I would mark this occasion with the post you have all been waiting for--the birth story! Let's just get one thing straight before I start. If there is one thing that every woman who has ever endured labor has earned, it is the right to share every single nitty gritty detail of the birth story with anyone who is within ear shot--as many times as she would like.

Fortunately for you, you are reading this post, so you may opt out of enduring every little detail. Humor me, though, and post a comment whether you read it all or not. All you really have to say is something to the tune of, "Wow, Kaley, you are the woman!" and I will assume that you did indeed read the whole thing.

Now, where shall we begin? Oh yes--5:30 am on Thursday, August 28:

5:30 am: wake up early with typical pregnancy discomfort. Decide to get up and enjoy one of my final quiet mornings on the porch. Write this in my prayer journal: Dr's appointment today. I've found myself really wishing I would go into labor this weekend. If I don't, I will probably be induced next week. You know my heart's desires, Lord Jesus, and I know You delight in giving them to me. I trust Your good hand!

10 am: drop Griffin off at his cousin's house while I head to my dr's appointment a couple blocks away.

10:15 am: dr's appointment. I am still 2 cm dilated (have been all week) and about 50% effaced. Doctor Miller says she does not think I will go in the next couple days. Oh and she will be out of town this weekend. Leave feeling pretty discouraged.

11 am: stop at farmer's market up the street. Buy ripe cantaloupe. Bad idea.

11:15 am: return to my sister's house to hang out with Griff and kids while I wait to go to my non-stress test at 1:30. Let Wes and my sister and brother in law know that I will probably not be going into labor anytime soon. Fight back tears.

noon: Griffin announces to his cousins that he wants 'Baby Bob' (his nickname) to come out right now! Me too, Griffin. Me too.

1 pm: discover a parking ticket on my car. Bummer of a day.

1:10 pm: stop at Dunkin Donuts for a donut and coffee. (Dr's orders--gotta eat something sweet so the baby will move during the non stress test!)

1:30 pm: pull into parking lot for appointment and feel a very strong braxton-hicks contraction. Hmmm? But no, it couldn't be.

1:45 pm: nurse points out two contractions during my non stress test. They are about 10 minutes apart.

2:15 pm: make a run to Walgreen's (free stuff!), Toys R Us, and Price Chopper. Oh--and to pay off my parking ticket. (The fee goes up $5 every week--and we might be a little distracted this week!) Start timing contractions. Still about 10 minutes apart.

3 pm: return to my sister's house. Call Wes and my mom to let them know that I think I may be having contractions, but they are really not strong. What does that mean?

3:15 pm: decide to go for a walk since Griffin is napping and I want to try to keep the contractions coming. Find myself walking on Lincoln Avenue. Is this a sign??! Contractions seem to increase, but still are not very strong.

4 pm: decide I should head home since my bags are there. Keep timing while I drive home. Still about 10 minutes apart.

6 pm: Wes gets home and I am feeling discouraged. Contractions are very sporadic and still not intense. Starting to think this is false labor. Google 'false labor'.

6:30 pm: decide to make dinner--spinach calzones from my friend Anca (yummy!) and corn from the farmer's market. Contractions are now coming more regularly and about 6 minutes apart. According to google, this is a good sign. Still not intense.

7 pm: our landlords pull into the driveway after being gone for a week. Didn't know they were coming home! Finish dinner and send Griffin over to hang out with Grandma Mar and Papa Nick. Fill them in on the situation and ask if Griffin could stay over night if need be.

8 pm: contractions still not intense, but are about 4 minutes apart. Wes decides to pack the car, calling upstairs to check up on me quite frequently.

9 pm: head next door to talk with our landlord, who is a nurse. Let her know that contractions are about 3 minutes apart, but are not intense and ask what we should do? We finally decide to just take the plunge and head to the hospital. We leave a tearful Griffin behind, but know he is in good hands.

9:30 pm: head to the hospital, meanwhile calling both of our parents and letting them know. Tell them we will call if things progress. Contractions seem to slow down, but get more intense. Why can't they just follow the rules??!

10 pm: arrive at emergency room, feeling all eyes on the pregnant lady as I walk into the room. I know what they are thinking--why is she so calm? Indeed, my contractions come even more slowly now.

still smiling

10:30 pm: nurse gives me a knowing glance when she sees that I am far too calm to be in actual labor. Is this your first baby? she asks, quite smugly. I am ready to turn around and head home. I am now only 3 cm dilated and 70% effaced. We call the family and tell them to stay home. Looks like it's going to be a long night. Try to watch news coverage of Barack Obama's speech.

11:30 pm: shift change. New nurse is someone we know from church. Contractions are becoming stronger and I ask Wes to rub my back and breathe with me. Maybe this is the real thing? Take a walk to go look at the babies in the nursery. Have to stop multiple times to breathe and begin to feel nauseous. Oh yeah--this is what real contractions feel like. Darn.

12 am: ask Wes to go get the nurse to come check me. Feel a little silly, but I do not want to miss my window for an epidural. Nurse announces with a great deal of surprise that I am 8 cm dilated. Does that mean I won't get an epidural? I ask with dismay. We'll see what we can do, says the nurse. That is code for Not a chance, honey. (Especially since I have not gotten lab tests done, do not have an IV, have not been taken to the birthing room, and the call still has to been made to the anesthesiologist. I'm no dummy.) Wes asks if we should call family. YES is the quick response.

12:10 am: nurses swarm into the room to get me moved into the birthing room and ready to deliver. This is really happening. No turning back now.

12:20 am: someone in green enters the room and approaches my bed. Well, I am surprised to see you here! says Dr. Miller. I feel a rush of relief, knowing that she has not left town yet. I am so glad to see you, Dr. Miller! I whisper gratefully.

12:30 am: Dr. Miller announces that I am fully dilated and this baby is about to be born. Is she just saying that to make me feel better? I wonder. Dr. Miller, Julie (our nurse), and Wes begin to praise and encourage me to fight through the pain. It doesn't take long before Dr. Miller tells Wes to take a look at his son's head. Seriously? I think. It can't be.

12:51 am: LINCOLN PARKER EHRET ENTERS OUR WORLD. He is more beautiful than I could have imagined with his newborn cry and head of brown hair. Exhilaration. Euphoria. Awe. No word even touches the emotion and gratitude of that moment.

(unfortunately, our camera died shortly after this and I haven't gotten any of the pictures my family took yet...)

1:15 am: Both of our parents and my sister and brother join us to meet our son and hear his name spoken out loud for the first time. His name is Lincoln Parker Ehret, we say with pride. Wes's mom cries as she finds out that her maiden name is her grandson's middle name. We spend the next hour and half taking pictures, passing Lincoln around the room, and trying to determine who he looks like.

3:30 am: the room clears out and Wes and I are left alone with our boy. Exhaustion sets in.

Give me this kind of exhaustion any day.

This boy is worth it.

Welcome, Lincoln Parker!

He's here and he is beautiful!

Born: August 29, 2008 at 12:51 am

Weighing in at: 8 lbs.

Measuring: 21 inches

More details to follow...

Welcome to our world, Lincoln! We love you so much already.