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OHH hai. So I’m deciding to take my “maternity leave” from my blog for a while. As the weeks stretch on, I’m finding myself increasingly uncomfortable, irritable, completely forgetful and with total negligence of grammatical correctness (which irks me greatly) … Continue reading

Woes of a (fairly) Young Momma

In lieu of the last post, in which I declared that despite my pregnant disposition, I was not emotional, I write now it appears, as a hypocrite.

The third trimester has run over me like a big, fat dump truck. I knew the exhaustion would settle back in, but I always forget how difficult it is. Luckily, I’m in the homestretch!

This past week, we had a family celebration for my oldest son’s 3rd birthday. Overall, it was an enjoyable event, especially for our son. Unfortunately, for our second boy, it was not so much.

In the excitement of the arrival of his grandparents, Birthday Boy tore through our living room and with the aggression of a linebacker, shoved his little brother to the ground from behind. This sent little bro face-first to a marble floor. Blood, bruised and busted gums occurred. He is only 17 months old, so to hold a cold washcloth to his upper mouth is like trying to coax a snake to come be pet using the old “here, kitty kitty!” method.

Luckily, due to some of my more naturopath-type friends, I’ve grown in homeopathic knowledge over the years and have a stock of Arnica tablets, Chamomilla and other calming, soothing remedies that almost immediately stopped the bleeding, swelling and inconsolability of our little boy. Follow that up with his pacifier and he was fairly quickly calmed down. But he did not want to be separated from me. I carried him around til he fell asleep.

Crisis over, for the moment. Upon further inspection, he seemed fine. No broken teeth, or bones. Just busted up.

It shook me up right well though and I was distressed for the whole of the party. And I am not good at all at concealing my stress. It permeates to my head and stomach and I feel sick in those areas until I can find quiet rest.

Fast forward three days to Tuesday, and busted-mouth-boy is back in action, his upper gums only a light shade of purple, and quickly healing. I am amazed at how fast the human body heals.

We had my sister and her two toddlers come to play Tuesday morning, along with my mom, who loves seeing all her grand babies in one place. They absolutely adore her.

The slow cleaner that I am, had just set my mom’s large, glass veggie tray out to dry after washing it. My mom moved it to a table next to the door so that she wouldn’t forget to bring it home when she left.

Busted-mouth-boy soon became deeply-cut-boy as he curiously and successfully reached for the tray and pulled it off the table. The tray, as I said, was glass, but a very heavy glass. The table happens to be sitting right at the top of a single step that leads down to our solarium and out of our house. So, standing at this step, is where Emmett grabbed the tray, and by the heaviness of it, he fell forward, on top of the tray, to the marble floor, shattering glass everywhere.

Where was I? Right there. 5 feet away. Watching him do it. My sister? Even closer! But Emmett isn’t a grabber-off-of-the-table-er. And the tray wasn’t in danger of attracting little fingers -wasn’t hanging over the edge. It was one of those odd, shocking moments, that always tend to happen to unsuspecting parents. And I am ALWAYS SUSPECTING!!!! …but I suppose not…

My sister, sitting within 2 feet of Emmett, scooped him up, glass and all. Of course Emmett was crying as I rushed upon him, searching for the inevitable injury.

Then I saw it: 4 inches long on his forearm, splayed open to reveal raw-chicken-like skin, a gaping cut.

What did this confident, sure mom do upon seeing it?

Oh, I panicked of course.

“OH IT’S REALLY BAD!” I was jumping up and down -barefoot on the shattered glass- writhing my hands, saying “OKAYOKAYOKAY What do I do!?!?!?!?!?!!”

Our mom enters the room, saying, “oh it’s probably not that—- yes. Yes, it’s bad. He will need stitches.”

Mom directed me to grab a towel as she slapped her hand over the wound, applying pressure. We tied his tiny arm up in a kitchen towel.

So now, I’m hyperventilating as I rush to grab extra diapers (which I instantly forgot about and left them sitting on the counter), Emmett’s sippy cup of water, pacifier, some homeopath tablets and my purse.

My sister threw mom the keys to her car, saying, “just go!”

We left her with a kitchen full of shattered glass, two toddlers in the living room, and my toddler on the toilet, with a dirty rear end. …bless my sister’s heart.

Thankfully for us, there’s a brand new hospital 5 minutes down the road. Emmett, by now, was calm and happily sucking on his pacifier after being given a Calms Forté tablet (i brought IBuprofen to administer only after he’d been given his stitches because apparently, it can increase bleeding ). By the time we were admitted (which was only another 5 minutes), he had fallen asleep on me.

I however, was on the brink of passing out, as we had to repeatedly show the open wound to each nurse that came into the room. I decided not to look at it anymore, for the sake of staying conscious for my tiny boy.

The doctor and two nurses wrapped my boy in a sheet, swaddle style, to keep his limbs from kicking and flailing while he was stitched up. I laid across him, and held his precious face. I had my mom grab my phone, pull up YouTube and play Elmo’s World while he was operated on. The other two nurses, held his legs and his injured arm steady as the doctor went to work.

The two numbing shots administered caused Emmett to scream like nothing I’ve ever heard come from him or our oldest boy. Three of the eleven stitches, Emmett felt in full. And he looked at me as he cried, with pleading, hurting eyes.

But within an hour, it was over and Emmett had fallen asleep on me again.

When we returned home, my sister, who was leaving for vacation at 4am the next day, had kept everyone alive and content and had tried her best to clean up the glass.

My monologue of woes and stresses now told, I continue to feel pretty darn touchy and emotional. This blog, while mainly dedicated to inform about the evils of abortion and artificial contraceptives, is also therapeutic for me. As I’ve noted, I’m an artist. My hands have to have some rhythmic movement to fulfill in order to clear my brain.

Having typed all of this, I am perfectly aware of the insignificance of the “woes” I’ve told. In fact, while hovering over my boy’s little face, I thought of my 9 year old cousin Breezy (just enter your email), who is ending her battle with bone cancer, who’s had to have her leg from her thigh down removed. I thought of her parents. I thought of the true and heavy stress they’ve had to undergo. I know, my suffering and even my child’s suffering is nothing compared to that.

I know that as a parent, worse may come to us. I pray that I will handle it with the strength that my cousins have with Breezy. It’s got to be goliath.

This is where, without God, I would drive myself completely sick and swear to myself that children aren’t worth the trouble.

But they are. What else on this entire earth is more worthy of my loss of sleep than my own flesh and blood?

I thank you, God, for the lives of my children— all the while knowing that they are not eternally mine, but they are Yours. It’s a hard thing to grasp, and a great faith to possess and maintain. I pray for the grace to understand and bear it, and for the peace that our Virgin Mother must have possessed in order to fully submit her only Son to the world. She was only human, after all.

Baby, You Were Born This Way.

I want to write about something that may be obviously apparent to parents of multiple children.
But to the parents with only one child, they might not yet have fully grasped it. For I only began to REALLY notice it after our second child was born.

Especially to the individuals who’ve never had children before, though, is who I write for: DOUBLY especially, to the pro-choice, pro-contracepting individuals who’ve never had children, is who I write this for; for perhaps they’ve never thought about this to quite the extent they should.

I’m sure there’s much more intellectually stimulating writings than mine out there. In fact, I’m absolutely aware of the world of scientific research to support what I’m sharing.

The average, curious Joe may do a tiny lifting of his finger to find this information. I’ve done it and so can you. I’ve generally found that whether or not I litter my blog with links and endless amounts of scientific research backing up what I have to say, whomever reads my blog ultimately rejects what they’re reading on an obstinately angry prejudice or is open to finding out more and does the research him/herself. So there you go, do what you will.
Moving on!

I believe that babies are born, with their personality, their disposition already intact.
I believe that babies are given their personality from the earliest moments of conception.

Because otherwise, when is a human being given his/her personality, his/her predisposition to the way s/he handles emotion, the way s/he communicates, his/her temperament?

At 6 months in utero? 9 months? AFTER birth, a random string of personality traits, plucked from the combined genetics of the mother and father, just spontaneously erupts within his/her brain?

Or perhaps the baby is born with absolutely no personality whatsoever and it’s only developed after coming into the world and being influenced by the environment and people in the human being’s life?

I believe that common intelligence will tell us that the latter must be mostly false.

Common intelligence, from a parent of more than one child, will observe that at the first moments after birth, if the parent is a perceptive one (trust me, not all are) each child is very different than his/her older sibling.

The cry not only sounds different, but a parent can perceive the urgency, the demanding or un-demanding of the cry. Parents more closely observe, over the next few days after arriving home from the hospital, how their baby handles the daily routine of the family: the changing of the diapers, baths, feedings, naps, “tummy time” …etc. All of these mundane events sound like pathetic material to have for observations and conclusions, but if one can consider the newness of life, how drastically different these events must be for the newly born human life, can one not wonder how that baby might handle the situation, depending on his/her disposition?

The differences are sometimes subtle, but if you’ve had more than one child, you can attest to the observation that the baby isn’t JUST yet another baby, like any other baby. Each new baby speaks his/her own personality differently.

My first son- beginning with his kicks within the womb! -was much more vocal about his presence. He was wound tight: vocal from the very beginning. If a diaper was too tight, or a bottle not warmed enough (I only breastfed him for the first three months: he went on a screaming nursing strike after I felt pushed into introducing the bottle to him very early on.) he let me know, loudly. He was up at all hours of the night. He was walking at 7 months and literally running at 8. He was talking before he was one year old and then varying his octaves and tones of voice before he was a year and a half. (I could ask him to say “momma” in a very high-pitched tone or a very low-pitched tone, and he would do it and then replicate the tones with other words.)

My son, now almost 3 years old, is a running, jumping, rollicking, screaming, yelling, non-stop talking wild child in a blaze of endless energy. I truly believe that he has only now begun to reach a satisfactory communication level (according to him) equalling the personality he has been given.

I believe that as a parent, after giving birth to our children, it’s not a matter of “training my baby” to do this or that, or follow a certain schedule that I desire. I believe that instead, my job is to get to KNOW my child. My already uniquely made child. (hence, my Attachment Parenting style of parenting… check out Ask Dr. Sears and this: )

A baby is a human being before s/he is born. This human being is born with limited abilities to communicate his/her personality until s/he reaches the earliest age possible to fully communicate his/her needs. Until then, a parent needs to be perceptive enough to read and understand the newborn human being’s personality.

My second boy barely cried after birth. He slept through the night from the get-go. He only cried (if I could even call it that) when he was hungry. He grunted instead of bellowing or screaming. He is now 1.5 years old and still has yet to purposely say “mom” or “dad”. He started walking at 10 months. He still only becomes whiny when he’s hungry, if I haven’t already fed him. Normally, he’ll just walk up to me and arch his head backwards and look at me with huge, chocolate brown eyes, raising his arms for me to hold him, and I know it’s the “feed me something, Momma,” look.

One might say that the differences in my son’s personalities lie in how I ate while I was pregnant or whether or not I had medication during birth.

First, being medicated isn’t going to be the source of development for my child’s personality. I was given an epidural for my first, wild boy. For our second, laid-back boy, the epidural was placed too high, never reaching lower than my belly button, and was ceased to be administered 2 hours before I began to push. We know that, instead, medications during labor may affect the health of the baby (i.e. drowsiness, unresponsiveness, lack of interest in nursing right away… etc.).

Secondly, I barely consumed any caffeine at all with my first crazy boy. I drank coffee (nearly daily) and Coke a Cola with our second, very calm boy. This third time around, I have had coffee daily.

I understand that environmental influences DO affect the health of the new human life. I do understand and acknowledge that if I were a smoker or consumed alcohol abusively or ate obese levels of sugar while pregnant, I would definitely be putting the physical health of my child in danger. But I cannot agree that I would be putting his/her personality in danger of alteration. This is a difference that many people misconstrue: especially the pro-choice, pro-contraceptive lot.

These people do not understand, or refuse to acknowledge that at the very moment of conception, parents have created, in union with the Ultimate Creator Himself, a very literal separate and unique human being. Like a snowflake, non-replicable. A snowflake the size of a zygote.

To the people who do not or will not understand this, they view having a child as either a commodity, or as an inconvenience. They may contracept, willfully, yet ignorantly flushing down the toilet all other human life that was “accidentally” conceived while on the Pill or IUD or Patch or shot.

We know this happens for a fact. We know that women get pregnant while contracepting. Google “pregnancy rates among contraceptive users” and you’ll find that even Guttmacher Institute (Planned Parenthood’s research arm) gives statistical evidence of failure among chemical contraceptive use. Yep, there’s failure for all types of birth control, natural and chemical. Honestly, the percentage rate does not matter… 0.1% or 10%, the failure rate is absolutely present, and who am I or you to put full faith into a failing chemical that will harm the newly created life, just banking on the assumption that “certainly I’m not likely to be that 1-10%”?

ESPECIALLY when the percentage of failure weighs upon the death of a human life.

But the even more questionable concern rises when we understand that when pregnant, a woman must not continue using her contraceptive because the chemicals will kill or greatly harm the already conceived life.

THEREFORE, how can we pretend to be blind to the “unsuccessful zygotes” that are the result of the effectiveness of the chemical abortions that take place without the knowledge of the poor mother and father who do not view each human life as sacred and unique (even though they think they do)?

We know that within hours of conception, the brand new human being’s DNA is fully formed (check my link below); DNA unique to the mother, unique to the father, unique to any other human being in the world. Hence, my snowflake allusion.

From what minimal biological knowledge I acquired from my college education, in combination with the light scientific research I have found through general internet searches, I am aware that fundamental personality cells are stored within the human DNA.

I have read that complex personality development is later developed and influenced by environmental forces; Yet we are born, already having been given our base personality. At the moment we are given our DNA. at conception.

Yikes. The people who think that contraceptives are OK and that abortion is OK have some answering to do.

What I have written is in the most elementary, rudimentary basics of human development. Pathetic, to some it may be, I really think that one doesn’t need to be a scientist to fully acknowledge these truths. One only needs to have a willful stubbornness to adhering to his/her personal convenience, though, to reject them. And sadly, so, so many people do.