Never stop learning

My daughter is one of the best teachers I've ever had. I love how she doesn't care what anyone else thinks. She will not hide her feelings; she is honest. She knows how to use her vocal cords. And of course, she is only 1.

Before becoming a mom, I had no idea that children were born with certain personalities. I thought a child's character could be 100% molded by their parents. That isn't the case. God gives them a soul, and our job as parents is to smooth out the rough edges; it's an honor given to us by an artist who knows what he's doing.

Having a baby really is like opening a priceless Christmas present. I love the gift God blessed me with. And he knew exactly the kind of kiddo I'd need to become a better person, not just a good mom.

If you would've told me that I wouldn't sleep thru an entire night for 16 months straight, I would've freaked out. I would've started trying to PLAN (which I have a tendency of over-doing). I would've said that I couldn't do it. Wow, would I have been wrong.

I'm no supermom. Jose and I tried a couple of different sleep-training approaches. We thought it might be time to do a little "cry it out". We'd go back in and check on Mirabel after a few minutes, or he would. I tried just not nursing her and staying with her, but that resulted in 45 minutes of crying and refusing to sleep for another hour even after giving in. Then we agreed that it'd be best if Jose attempt the sleep training, since he doesn't have any milk :) (maybe she wouldn't be reminded of what she's missing?). I trusted that Jose would do the right thing, and we both prayerfully approached this. Mirabel is our first and we really want to give her our best, and we never want her to feel insecurely attached. So with that, we let her cry for a little. I could hear her on the monitor. I couldn't take it, so I just prayed and stayed in the room while Jose went in to console her before he left for a few more minutes. After a few minutes of this, he decided to stop. I didn't blame him. He said she was shaking, the way she was shaking in a terrified way while we were on the subway in Boston.

We've learned that our kid has different cries. She has a tantrum cry, a tired cry, and a terrified cry (among others). This was a terrified cry.

So we decided to re-evaluate the situation and try a different approach. We discovered that some of her sleep troubles were related to tummy troubles. We listened to our gut, even though we felt pretty alone in our struggle (since most of our friend's have done CIO quite successfully).

Going back to the first paragraph, Mirabel has taught me a lot. She's taught me to not care what parents think when I'm trying to grocery shop and she's screaming in the cart because she wants to run around and examine everything on the shelves. She's taught me that parenting is a lot easier than we all think. That's just it, what WE think, not what everyone else thinks. We know our children better than anyone else. Because they are born with unique personalities, they require different parenting approaches. There's a reason why they weren't born with a handbook or user's manual.

I realize things might be completely different with our second. We could have a kiddo that is able to go to sleep on their own after just a little crying.

God wants us to ask him for guidance regarding our children, not compare our situation to our neighbor's. We should all be willing to support each other, despite our different parenting approaches. Yes, my child is not an infant and she is still nursing. Why? Because she wants to and I don't mind. Am I spoiling her? I don't believe I am. In fact, only in the US is it typical to stop nursing by age 1. But does this mean I'm judging anyone else who stops weaning before age 1? Absolutely not. I'm not even judging those who don't even attempt nursing. I don't know their story.

All I know is that I love my kid and I'm trying to do the best I can; I acknowledge that I'm going to make mistakes along the way. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt, so I'll say that the moms I know out there are trying to do the same thing.

A few weeks ago at a meeting I attended, a quote was shared that went something along the lines of "you're going to make mistakes as a parent, but there should be enough love there to cover those mistakes." I think that line sums up successful parenting better than any book or child psychology article I've ever read.

Sleep Diary 1

I'm sitting in front on our mini crib, on the living room floor. Yep, the crib is now in the living room. Though we tried various sleep approaches in the past, we've decided to stop the co-sleeping thing altogether. We recently followed some of the suggestions in this book, but since putting some of the suggestions into practice, things have only gotten worse. I thought times were rough when we were waking up 3 times a night. Last night, that number shot up to 7; she woke up every 45 minutes after 12:50. Mirabel is now to the point where she has to nurse in order to fall back asleep, even if it's only for a minute or two. She screams without the nursing. This is why we're going to have her sleep in the living room, in her own crib. I tried getting her to take her first nap in her crib (without falling asleep nursing), and, after about 5 episodes of putting her down then picking her back up, she finally slept (and so did I)...for 35 minutes. It's better than nothing; I'm hoping to try that approach again for her second nap in just a bit. So far she's only slept through the night once in her entire life. Let's hope we find something that works...and fast! So far, averaging 4 hours of sleep a night for 2 months is the hardest part of parenting. I feel like I'm failing.

More Than 100 Reasons

Yesterday I came across something I really could not relate to.

I don't want to post the link here. I realize that people have a right to express themselves however they want, and I am thankful for that freedom. I also realize that there are some folks who really do not want children, and that is fine too. Because, honestly, there would be many more unhappy people in this world if more children were born to parents who didn't want them.

I'm not promoting anything (political) by saying that. In fact, if you check out my other blog posts, you'll understand my views on everything from family to children. But I still couldn't help but feel a bit put-off by the many claims made in that blog entry. How can anyone confidently make a list of 100 things that they like about never having a child, if they've never had one? They listed everything from having more money, to having a better marriage.

The irony of it all is this: I've found that my life and heart are both richer after having Mirabel. I've also fallen even more in love with Jose after having Mirabel. I've seen how he loves on her, and it just makes my heart melt. No, it certainly isn't always easy being a mom (or dad), but let me tell you, it is so worth it.

I could go through that list and literally offer a rebuttal for every claim. After reading it, I realized that I certainly have more than 100 reasons why I LOVE being a mother. There are definitely more than 100 things I love about Mirabel, too.

Instead of responding to that blog post, I chose to write a poem for Mirabel. True love of any kind can't be captured in a list, or even a poem. But this is just an outline, really. Kind of like what results when you attempt to trace a detailed painting. Anyway, here it is...

If I had to limit myself to 100 things or reasons,
I would take a lesson from God and run my fingers through the wispy strands of hair on your head, and try to count them
but then
I would miss the fine hairs on your ears
and the tiny creases on the soles of your feet, and their softness:
what walking around barefoot on the sand, or the dirt, or on uneven sidewalks will take away.

But I digress. 100 things...

I had to wait ten seconds for the test results, then I was certain you'd be mine. And in the split second following those ten, before you even had 10 fingers and 10 toes, I already had 100 reasons.

Time has always been the thief; memory its rival. But the minute you were born, I realized it was on my side, that only you could steal the better part of me (my heart), and that I'd formed a memory I'd never have to struggle to keep.

No, my freedom has not been taken from me. Instead, it was given to me after 40 long weeks, when I learned to put myself second. I gained a greater understanding of true beauty, then.

I have not lost myself. I have only lost what I never wanted anyway, the part of me that was afraid of loving this much.

As a result, I have far more than 100 reasons.

Lovely poem

It was a rough night last night, actually the past 2 nights have been rough. Poor Mirabel got her dad's bad cold and, with a fever that wouldn't break and a stuffy nose, she refused to sleep. She literally only slept 3 hours in a 24 hour period. Thankfully, her dad, seeing how tired I was, stayed up and held her upright for 4 hours so I could get some rest. AND the poor guy is in the middle of finals; he's yet to start studying for the toughest one that's on Monday.

This may sound silly, but even though times like this are stressful and would've probably made us argue before Mirabel was born, we are closer now that she is here precisely because of these moments, and in the toughest part of these moments. Instead of getting impatient at 2 AM because we're both sleep-deprived, we laugh and dance around in our PJs with dried baby boogers on our clothes, spit up in our bed (actually, mine and Mirabel's bed ;) and just pray that we maintain a tiny bit of our sanity. Instead of worrying about his Corporate Finance final on Monday and getting upset about how he has to sleep so he can study, Jose grabs Mirabel and lets me sleep. No complaints are made, all signs of frustration and concern are non-existent. For 4 hours, he does nothing but tenderly hold his baby in his arms. He can't sleep, because he doesn't want to drop her, I'm sure; he also isn't nearly alert enough to study. But he takes it like a mature, loving, selfless adult; a truly respectable man of God.

I don't know if it's the sleep-deprivation or if I'm just the cheesy, sentimental type. I think it's probably the latter, but I really enjoyed the poem below and wanted to share it with you all...

This poem goes out to the awesome Dads as much as it goes out to loving Moms, biological and spiritual. This is for all of you. I found it on this site. Enjoy.

For All Mothers

This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal bleachers at soccer games instead of watching from cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see my goal?" They could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world," and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick children in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Meyer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's OK honey, Mommy's here."

This is for all the mothers of Kosovo who fled in the night and can't find their children. This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see and for the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes and for all the mothers who don't.

What makes a good mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?

The jolt that takes you from sleeping to dread, from bed to crib at 2 a.m. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

Is it the need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a school shooting, a fire, a car accident, a baby dying?

I think so.

So this is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the mothers who wanted to but just couldn't.

This is for reading "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. And then reading it again, "Just one more time".

This is for all the mothers who mess up. Who yell at their kids in grocery store and swat them in despair and stomp their feet like a tired two year old who wants ice cream before dinner.

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started to school and for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

For all the mothers who bite their lips (sometimes until they bleed) when their 14 year olds dyed their hair green.

This is for all the mothers who lock themselves in the bathroom when babies keep crying and won't stop.

This is for all mothers who show at work with spit-up in their hair and milkstains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

This is for mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for all mothers whose heads turn automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home or are grown.

This is for mothers who put pinwheels and teddy bears on their children's graves.

This is for all the mothers whose children have gone astray and who can't find words to reach them.

This is for all the mothers who sent their child to school with a stomach ache, assuring that they would be just FINE once they got there, only to get a call from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up right away.

This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation. And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working moms and stay-at-home moms. Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money and mothers without.
This is for you, so hang in there. The world would be a terrible place without the love of mothers everywhere. You make it a more civil, caring and safe place for the precious children in our world.

Author Unknown