The Mom ChroniclesJust another AreaVoices site

My mind has been very busy lately.. It has been very occupied by thoughts geared towards seeking answers I so desperately need and want. Ironically, and in His own good humor, God inspired my Pastor to preach on this topic today.
While there were some things to take and leave, one of the “takers” was how grief leaves a “God sized hole”. Hmm.. I would say that is quite fitting. For many people, when those we love deeply are taken we don’t understand. We want answers. We get angry. We want to blame. We know we have this amazing, powerful God that wants the best for us and has the power to allow for our losses to not occur, and yet He does. He allows for a baby to die in a mother’s swollen belly and doesn’t always reveal why. For many, myself included, it makes us flee Him initially instead of flock to Him. It means we are left with this huge, gigantic hole that we search and search and search for things trying to fill it, but ultimately all those things fail us. The answers we seek are not enough. The things we long for are not fulfilled. We are not satisfied with what we are told or learn. Nothing brings back our loved one and therefor nothing is enough.
I am currently reading the book, “I will carry you” about a mother who chose to carry her baby girl to term despite the knowledge that she would not survive once she was born. The book discusses her very spiritual journey. She spends a lot of time talking about Mary and Martha and the loss of their brother Lazerus. They discuss how even when Jesus comes to Martha and asks her to move that rock that blocks her brother’s tomb she questions Him. What about the stench?
I feel a lot like Martha these days. I feel like while I know of God’s tremendous powers and abilities in my life, that I don’t trust they are for me. I don’t trust that He is going to use these abilities to reveal my true desire on the other side of that rock, rather then just a rotten, deadly stench. Other people get those miracles, not me. And the author of the book discusses this and how we need to consider moving the boulder regardless. It isn’t about what is on the other side of the boulder. It is about the trust to move it and see. The trust that it will be exactly what is meant for us in one way or another. It may not be what we want, but part of a much greater plan for us.
I am deeply struggling with a need to find meaning in this pain that the suffering may somehow cease. I struggle to trust to move forward. Some of this is that I feel like I have not been able to formally say goodbye to my baby. I am stuck here with his cremated remains, and nothing was ever done to acknowledge him or his short life. And so I have asked the intern at church to help me plan a service for him. I feel like I owe it to him and I owe it to me.
Additionally, I made a memorial wall in my bedroom, dedicating it to my babies I have lost. It has quickly become my favorite room in my home and I will post pictures below.
And while that is all fine and good, I can’t help but wonder about trying again. I can’t help but LONG to try again to fill this incredible void that lives deep with in me. I don’t want to replace my dear Liam, but to give these empty arms something to hold. The reality is though, that emotionally I am not ready and will never be until I seek Him who can fill the void in a way that even a baby never will. How I am going to go about finding and seeking Him I don’t know, but I know it’s where I need to start.
In the mean time, I continue to seek the other answers. I see a reproductive endocrinologist in a few weeks and have multiple tests scheduled. I pray that something will be revealed to me amid these things as to what caused my multiple losses and how I may attempt to prevent that in the future.
Each day continues to be a struggle, but I am slowly coming to terms with this loss. It is not any easier to bear, but life has to go on and I am working to be patient with myself to do that.
I intend to continue to come here regularly to pour out my soul and search for meaning that may fall somewhere in my words as I type them.I hope you will continue to join me through this journey.
Amy

My Room : The bottem two pictures feature two drawings Matthew did for me. One when I was pregnant with Liam of a baby in my tummy and the other one he did after his death on a pamphlet for sunday school where inside a heart he drew something God had blessed us with or he wanted God to bless us with and he drew a baby.

As much as I have felt like doing nothing but being a home body and laying in bed all day since I lost my Liam, I have forced myself to go out with the kids and bring them places to keep things feeling a bit more normal. It is hard as I see babies everywhere it seems.. but I am glad I have been able to have some moments of reprieve.

The Mom Chronicles: Fire Dog

My son, as most kids do, has a lovey that he has been attached to since shortly after birth. He calls it “fire dog”. Originally, it was never called more then “puppy” or “woof”. However, as my son’s obsession with firetrucks and being a firefighter and paramedic like his mommy is trying to do has grown, everything around him seems to revolve around firetrucks. It was no wonder then how his yellow puppy with the bright red ribbon quickly became his “fire dog”. Every fireman, afterall, has to have a fire dog.

What has been most entertaining, however, about my son and his unique relationship with his firedog, is how convinced he is that firedog is not just a real member of the family, but that he experiences things in the same way we do. So it was not so surprising then when my son informed me it was fire dog’s birthday and we needed to have a party for him. I did the ok, ok thing and assumed the request would pass, however, when my son was still insisting a few weeks later on this party I finally obliged. So last weekend, we got together as a family and baked firedog a cake. We decorated and frosted it. We lit candles, wore fire hats and sang happy birthday to firedog and took pictures. He was even given a couple “gifts”. My daughter’s stuffed lovey her horsey was among those invited to attend, as was our guinea pig, firebear and a couple other of my son’s favorite toys. It was quite the little party. My son did complain that I didn’t all out decorate the house as I do for he and Ella, but he was indeed satisfied by firedogs party and is already talking about what kind of party to have for him next year. I can hardly wait.

While this is all silly and fun and something I will have for years to share about my son and his unique relationship with his “firedog”, firedog has actually been a gift for me as well these past couple weeks. You see, I had bought my son Liam, my baby I recently lost through miscarriage, his first blankey and a blue stuffed Snoopy puppy I found, with none other then a red ribbon around his neck like Matthew’s long before he passed. Well, naturally this new baby no longer is going to be here to hold and snuggle with these things, but they have been my comfort to hold and cling to as I go through this whole grief process. Well, my son, in his own way of dealing with the loss of what was supposed to be his new brother, has determined that Liam’s puppy and his firedog are indeed now the best of friends. Before he leaves for preschool he snuggles the two up together and tucks them in to either my or his bed where they are to keep each other company until he returns. He brings me Liam’s blue puppy and asks me to play puppies with him and has adopted the puppy as if it was his own. For me, while I desperately wish that I had my other son to be here to play with them, having Matthew and his firedog take them under his wing and share the love that only a little boy can for his puppy and his blankie has been incredibly therapeutic. And to think I was worried that the poor blue puppy and blankie I got would never be snuggled by anyone but me.

The point in sharing this? It’s funny how firedog has become not just a gift to my son, but a gift to me as well. Firedog has become a bit of a symbol in my house of just how far reaching out to someone in need goes. My son brings me firedog or Liam’s Snoopy when he recognizes I am feeling sad and gives me puppy kisses with him. He talks to me in that little puppy voice and uses his firedog to express a certain love that exists somewhere with in that tattered, worn little thing. And while I wish I could express how it is that silly firedog touches me so, he really does. He is an extension of my son and while sometimes my son goes a bit overboard in his aspirations for firedog, when I stumble across him or he ends up on my lap, I can’t help but take a moment to give him a little squeeze.

We all need these securities sometimes. In our darkest moments we all need things to snuggle with, to comfort us, to be that extension of the love of others when those others can’t be there. As firedog is an extension of Matthew, the blue Snoopy is an extension of Liam, who while never actually snuggled with him himself, somehow lives with in him in a way that is comforting to me when I need it.

While not a “real” fire dog (but don’t try to tell my son that) Firedog has become a bit of a hero to me. Through him my son has reached out to me in ways I could have never fathomed were possible. Likewise, my son Liam reaches out to me through the puppy I got for him in ways I never imagined, but I would have never known this was possible if not for firedog. Who ever knew a stuffed yellow puppy with a red ribbon around his neck was capable of such incredible things?

Now, before I go, a final thought. While it is important to me to continue to share my story of grief and healing of Recurrent Miscarriages, namely our most recent, I also don’t want this to become the Grief Chronicles versus what it has always been, and for that reason while I will continue to share aspects of my journey here, for those of you looking for more of it or to share your own stories of loss, I encourage you to visit my blogs either at Area Voices or my personal blog which is www.hastingsmomchronicles.blogspot.com I hope I can be the voice and support for those of you out there who have also suffered such devastating losses while being the regular mom I have always been here.

The Mom Chronicles: Living On

This past week, while mindlessly cruising facebook for a deeply needed escape (I know, what a place for it, right?) I stumbled upon a posting by one of my facebook friends. It was a simple quote that struck a huge chord. The post was something that Robert Frost once said and read ” In three words I can sum up everything I have learned about life: It goes on.”

This quote has resignated with me this week for the substantial truth that it speaks. For those of you who missed my column last week, I experienced yet another miscarriage and have been dealing with the inexplicable loss that comes with not only three consecutive miscarriages, but one at a stage where I had seen, heard and felt it numerous times. In my grief, I have in many instances felt like my life was standing still. Feeling so paralized by the deepness of my pain and sadness I could do nothing but simply curl up and wait for it to pass. Unfortunately, the world around me did not just stop to let me experience this pain. Classes at school continued. My children still had their appointments. Extended family members announced they were expecting new babies and friends delivered others. My husband still had to work. My laundry and dishes still needed to be washed, and my two little ones that I do have at home still needed a mom.

On so many levels this didn’t seem fair. If I am hurting so much, why aren’t others? Why can’t life just stop and let me have this grief and pain? But then I realized, in continuing on, life actually is giving me a gift.

How many times have we as moms said to our kids “life goes on” or “we don’t always get what we want” or “life isn’t always fair”? How many times have we had to coach them through moments of disappointment and sadness simply because it is how life works? By moving on life is almost giving us the kick in the pants to say I know you are sad and disappointed, but you must not stop living. Imagine if life did stop when tragedy strikes? Would any of us ever really move on or learn from it? Would we be able to make the changes in our lives and the world around us that impact us for years to come? No. And so in a sense, these words we speak to our children when life isn’t fair to them are the same words we need to remember ourselves when tragedy strikes.

Life is not always fair. It is painful. It is at times brutal. But it’s gift to us is that it keeps going on. The sun continues to rise and set. The grass and flowers grow. The circle of life continues to flow. And that can offer us some hope in these horrific times of loss and sadness. There is hope in the sun rising tomorrow, in that in each new day lies new possibilities. There is hope in the circle of life continuing because that opens the door for a new life to enter ours. There is hope in growth in the world around us, because it means that in adversity, there is still opportunity to not just survive, but to bloom and grow. How many times, for example, have you watched your flowers get baked in the hot summer sun and appear wilted or dead only to emerge more radient then ever after a soaking rain? Or farmers see their crops pelted by hail, only to rebound?

Now, for many who have potentially experienced a new loss or even myself, this can all sound like a lot of feel good junk that is full of fluff and air that we just can’t accept or acknowledge right now. That’s ok. What makes it ok is that tomorrow the sun will come up again, and as sad as we feel in this moment now, there is a possiblity, that tomorrow won’t feel quite so bad. Tomorrow has the potential to offer us even five more minutes that are easier then today. Tomorrow has the potential to offer us insight or knowledge we seek. The potential for something good to emerge. Additionally, anyone who has experienced such a loss is entitled to these days. I have often felt pushed to just get over this or felt guilty for still feeling so bad. What’s wrong with me, I have wondered? But the reality is that grief is normal. Losses affect people differently, and so even if you can’t believe things will improve, that’s ok. There is no rush. But life will be there for you, when you are ready for it.

And so my moms, life goes on. I have homework and housework to catch up on. I have kids to tend to and enjoy. But at the same time, not a moment goes by that I don’t and won’t miss and remember that child that was and is no more. Going on doesn’t mean forgetting. It just means embracing what is now, and finding a way to embrace our grief with out allowing it to overcome us. Easier said then done, yes. But as I found in my previous losses it does get easier. Eventually. And life continues on.

This is my update from the past few weeks. It’s funny. I think about coming here almost everyday to pour out my soul. For the first time in my life I have started a journal and stuck to it. That, and a couple really good books on grief have helped me through the past couple weeks.
So, an update. My baby was a boy. A little boy! We named him Liam Marvin. Liam because we had it chose as our boy name, and Marvin after my grandfather. Due to him being further along, I had some complications with the D and E to remove his remains, and ended up having to have a second. We chose to have him cremated, which was difficult, but is something I am so very, very glad to have done.
That said, I brought him “home” this past week. It was not how I wanted to bring my little baby boy home, in a shiny silver heart shaped urn. But life does not always go how we hope or want and so it is how it happened. When I got my little boy home I curled up with him, his blankey we got him and a blue stuffed Snoopy puppy with a bright red ribbon, also gotten just for him, and read him “Good Night  Moon” and sung him the goodnight song I sing to my other children at bed time each night. To the person who has never lost a child this may seem a little odd or strange, but it was exactly what I needed to do at the time.
I have not hidden that heart container that holds his remains from my living children. I explained at a four year old level to my son what the container holds and I periodically find him in my room “snuggling” with Liam, too. It makes me sad and happy at the same time.
As for me, I am going through the grief process in a very real way. I have been going through a book called “Grieving the Child I never knew” which has been phenomenal. Each day is different. Some are ok, others suck. Some days go well and then I am hit out of left field with intolerable sadness. People don’t understand. They think I should be over it. They say things like how I should just be glad to have the kids I do have. I never held him, they think. I never saw him outside of my belly. How can I miss him so much? The truth is I miss him because he was MINE. Many days I feel like this grief is just mine, as well. I saw him, felt him, carried him. When he died so did a part of me. Now I seek answers and try to forge on.
Speaking of answers, I am going through the process of meeting with a reproductive endocrinologist (aka fertility doc) and having several series of blood work done. If all goes well I can try again in two months. If not we will know that, too. Having another baby has suddenly become a very important and central part of my life. i don’t know that that is entirely good, but I can’t hardly believe that it is entirely bad, either. I also struggle with knowledge I have obtained that there were some interventions that could have possibly been done in the pregnancy. This is very hard for me to know, but at this point I can’t change the outcome.
And so I continue to forge on. I have a sister and a cousin pregnant. That pains me greatly that I won’t be able to compare growing bellies with them this summer. My sister is asking me for maternity clothes, and I recently had to buy a baby gift for my husband’s brother who just had a new baby and both are grossly painful, but are things I have had to accept. I can’t prevent others from being happy or having babies. I can just take time to be gentle to myself and care for myself when I encounter them.
And so, life goes on. I will continue to update you on my journey that I hope one day will be at least a bit more tolerable.
Amy

It’s been just over a week and yet I still feel as though it was just yesterday that my baby passed away. There is a part of me that wants to know why I can’t “just get over it”, why it still feels this hard. On my facebook postings that I have made in moments that have felt impossible and I just felt the need to reach out, I have gotten very insensitive responses such as “Just be glad you have 2 other kids. Some don’t even have that.” Now, don’t get me wrong, I understand that. My best friend from high school has tried for almost 5 years to have a baby to no success. So truly, I do feel so very blessed for what I have. And while part of my pain at the moment does have to do with the anger of why me and how unfair it is to be seeing others around me pregnant, there is a greater aspect that has to do with just the loss. I lost a baby. Another one. While I never physically held it in my arms, I watched it multiple times on ultrasounds moving around and rolling around vibrantly alive and full of life. I heard its heartbeat. I felt its first butterfly flutters. This baby was real, and it was mine. We shared months together, and no one can take that from me. Instead of having a baby in my arms, I will have an urn of ashes and a few ultrasounds pictures of what was. This is what feels unfair.
Yet, it has and does occur to me that while there are impossible moments, there won’t be impossible moments forever. That part of me that wants to hide away, to stay in bed, to stop my life, while it deserves to be validated, can’t happen forever. I do afterall have two amazing other children that deserve their mother. In the moments that aren’t all incompassing, I fear the moments that are. I fear those moments that feel so impossible that I can barely breath, when all the life feels sucked out of me.
Yet what I have learned in this horribly long, yet short week, is that grief is not something to avoid or fear. It is normal. I need to stop pushing myself to get through it. I need to stop fearing it. I need to embrace it. I need to allow myself to have my bad moments, but embrace and cling to the good ones. I need to reach out. I need to accept there will be unsensitive, unthoughtful words by others, but also that where I least expect it, may come other positive words of support.
I picked up a devotional type book dealing specifically with loss of a baby/miscarriage written by a mother that absolutely gets it. Already it is opening my eyes. I have been through this before, but not at this level. What makes it different this time is how far I had gotten, and how after so many consecutive losses, it feels impossible that I ever have that third baby I so deeply long for. I long to feel those firm kicks against my belly, for my children to be able to feel them. I long for those moments when you hear the first cries ring out with in the first breaths the baby takes and that moment when you hold your baby for the first time. I am so desperate to have that again. Just one more time.
Fortunately, there are other things to focus on in the moment. School. My other kids. Ok, so that’s about all I can handle at the moment. But I am here, and that’s a start. I hope in the days ahead that we get the answers we seek through genetic testing. I will finally know if it was a boy or girl, and we came name he or she appropriately.
I pray in the days and weeks ahead that I find the peace that I seek, the answers to guide me in the future, and the strength that I know is with in me to get through this.

My Dearest Moms~

I regret to share with you all that I have lost my baby that I was expecting this July, 2011. I was 13 weeks. Things had been relatively fine until this point. One week there was a vibrant, active little one on the ultrasound, the next week, it was only still with no flicker of a heart.
I underwent a D and E procedure and am having the remains tested for fetal abnormalities. We had just been set up with a genetic counselor, due to a positive screen for a chromosomal problem. I am hoping the results of the studies give me some insight in to why I am having these miscarriages.
This has truly been a devastating time for me. Words can not express the depth of this loss, nor the hole it has left in my heart. This loss occured much later then the previous ones did and I had seen it multiple times through ultrasound and heard it’s little heart beating via doppler.
I am not certain what the future holds for me. I have 2 amazing, radiant children whom I deeply love, but my heart still aches for another. I am not sure if I have the strength to endure another loss, and can only hope and pray that if it is God’s will that it happens for me again.
I ask for your thoughts and prayers during this terrible time. We will be finding out the gender of the baby with the results of the testing so once that happens we will choose a name.
In the mean time, I have one more angel in heaven, and one more bright star in the sky. My arms and heart feel vacent. Some day I hope a new, healthy, living breathing baby will find its way there. Until then, I don’t know the ways of the Lord, but I do know I must trust in Him.

Amy

The Mom Chronicles: Hope from a four year old 
 
As most of you know by this point I am back in school working on my paramedic degree. As classes resumed a couple weeks ago, I started a new course called “Emergency Response to Crisis”. It is about dealing with various crisis in the field, namely ones that are the result of emotional crisis. To start the discussion, my professor, who also just happens to be a mom, stood on a chair in the front of the class and read us “Alexander’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” by Judith Viorst. For those of you unfamiliar with it, it is about a little boy who from the moment he gets out of bed, has all sorts of bad things happen to him. They literally continue through out his day, and as he seeks to find just one person to acknowledge or validate his feelings that this truly is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day and no one does, he resolves to moving to Australia. Apparently he thinks things are better there.
This past week was a series of terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days in my house. At just about thirteen weeks pregnant, my doctor informed us that our baby screened positive with a high likelihood of having chromosomal problems. Later that same day he was unable to detect a fetal heartbeat. Two days later when he still was unable to detect a heartbeat I was sent over for an ultrasound where my greatest fear was confirmed: this baby too, has passed.
Since this moment, I have been feeling like I have been charged over by a freight train. Struggling to stay out of bed, most moments have felt impossible. This was, after all, three babies in a row that we lost. By the time you all are reading this I will have had a procedure for the remains to be removed and we will be having them tested for genetic problems. There are so many answers I seek.
Yet, as I waited in the doctors office to try to make any sense of this, first and forefront on my mind was how I was going to share this news with my son. He has been, afterall, so very excited. Only days before he had drawn me a picture of he, my daughter and then myself with a big round tummy and little stick figure baby in it. This is the same little boy that had been showering my ever expanding belly with kisses and hugs and telling it secrets.
Telling him went about as well as can be expected telling something like that to a four year old. He got it at his own level, but naturally had a lot of questions. What surprised me though, was his confidence in Jesus and Santa (who he claims live together in heaven) bringing us another baby. They are going to come down the chimney next Christmas and bring us another baby that is going to live. I wish I had his faith. At the moment, I feel fortunate, because where my faith is struggling, its almost as if he has enough for the both of us.
As moms, we have all had these terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days and so have our kids. It’s a part of being human. We can’t escape them by simply moving to another country, or certainly we’d all be living in Australia! What is important as mom’s though, I have learned through the events of this past week, is how we model these days and how we respond to them to our kids. Clearly, if I have done nothing else right I have validated my son on these days, giving him hope of better ones, enough that he would have thost beliefs front and foremost in his mind on a day that I had “one of those days” and be able to share the same hope and comfort for me.
I have spent a lot of time asking a lot of questions the past few days, most of which start with why. I really thought three was a charm. We got that far, it had to work out. So when it didn’t, the loss has felt unbearable.
While I can’t change the events of the past week or make the loss any easier to bear, what I can do is offer advice to any of you who are having similar days. Only, the advice comes from my four year old, not me. That is that in some way or form things will work out. It may not be in our time frame or exactly the way we want, but there are greater beings out there, be it God or Santa or whomever you believe in, that have our best interest in mind. Because one door, even if it was a very big one, closed today, doesn’t mean another won’t be opened up tomorrow.
As for me, I don’t know I will ever be able to find it with in me to go through this again. While I desperately want another child, these losses have been so much to bear.  But I remain convinced it has not been with out reason, and I hope if anything perhaps I can be a comfort to someone out there reading this today walking in similar shoes, that while it seems impossible, we can survive. We can get out of bed and do things like write columns. And we can always hope that perhaps someone has something else in store for us. It may be hard to believe in this moment, but I am certain that to believe in a future requires finding a source of hope. With out hope, what do we really have? This week, my son has the hope for my family, at least until I can find my own. May he be a source of hope for you, too this day. Certainly tomorrow can’t possibly be as bad.

The Mom Chronicles: Age Matters
 
As a mother of two, I face a variety of challenges on a regular basis. However, being a mother of two children of different sexes offers different challenges that until now, I was never required to put much if any thought in to. 
You see, it seems I find myself in a bit of unfamiliar territory. As I recognize the changes occuring with in my kids, naturally I want to make the best choices for them as I can. While they have been largely oblivious to the fact, I have been seeking answers lately to questions which will impact them in ways they may never even be aware of.
The answers I have sought are to questions that I am certain all of you parents of siblings of different genders or different sexes then you have wrestled with at one time or another. At what age should siblings of different genders stop bathing together (or should they ever start?) At what age should kids stop being allowed with you in the bathroom? At what age should you stop taking your opposite gender child in to a public restroom with you? At what age should you stop allowing your children to see you less then fully dressed?
While these matters aren’t completely pressing, the time is approaching that I need to soon be making decisions on how to manage these things. And so, I did some research.
What I found was a whole lot of grey. Few, if any black and white answers. Most articles left such matters up to parental discretion and relied heavily on the responses of children in situations.
The one of these matters most clear was the public restroom one. Even now at four and a half sometimes young girls look at my son like he is crazy when he comes in to the bathroom with me in a mall or public place, and I can’t help but wonder if I should be sending him in to the male bathroom on his own. Whenever possible, we use a family restroom, but as many of you are aware of these are not available in most places we encounter.
Some of the guidlines I did find in relation to this matter involved assessing your child’s individual needs. Are they independant in things like zipping, unzipping, wiping, hand washing, latching a stall door, etc or do they still require your help? There is nothing worse then sending my son in to a bathroom, for example, and having him yell to me from inside he needs help wiping, and having to excuse myself in front of other male patrons using the facility to help him. Additionally, is your child showing signs they are uncomfortable using a different sex bathroom? If the answer to the above questions are that they largely still need help in the bathroom and are not embarassed to join you, most sources recommended they still accompany you. If your child is independant in their bathroom tasks and is comfortable going on their own, they should be encouraged to do so. If that is the case, it is important to have a place the child will find you as soon as they are done, or that you wait outside the bathroom door for them. It is also a time where good vs bad touch conversations should start taking place in the event God forbid anything happen in that bathroom when you are not present. Think your child is ready for a solo trip to the bathroom but unsure? Start with family friendly places with relatively small bathrooms like McDonalds or other familiar places. Stand outside the bathroom door and wait for your child, instructing them to call for you if they have any issues. As your child masters and gets more comfortable in such settings, you can expand and allow them to go in to bathrooms in less familiar settings. Remember, you know your child best. Trust yourself to help transition them in this basic activity and trust them to give you feedback.
So how about those other “at what age” questions? As it pertains to different gender bathing, most sources agreed that it was ok through early elementary school, as long as the bathing time is supervised and the kids are not uncomfortable with it. If at any point your child seems uneasy undressing around their different sex sibling or seems embarassed in sharing the tub, that means it is time to call it quits. Naturally questions and curiosity of differences in bodies are likely to emerge, but avoiding different sex baths in your kids just to avoid having to deal with this issue won’t help in the long run. If your kids do wonder about the differences in their bodies, take the opportunity to educate them in an age appropriate way. Use the name of body parts rather then nicknames, and don’t make a big deal out of it. Curiosity is a natural part of getting older and kids are likely to have questions. These same guidlines appear to be applicable for my other “at what age” questions.
Currently, while my kids are not yet asking many questions and as a mom that doesn’t get a lot of breaks, I take times like my time I go to the bathroom to teach the kids about “privacy”. My daughter loves hanging out in the bathroom with me, and so I have talked with her about mom needing privacy and what that means. Now she is using the same freedom when she goes to use the bathroom to say, “Mommy, Ella needs privacy”. I think this has been excellent in teaching her self respect in a way she is too young to even recognize right now.
While these answers remain somewhat vague, I feel a little better having explored some of these inquiries. More then anything I have learned to trust my judgement and trust the cues my kids give me. These are some of the many decisions we as parents need to make, and while it can be difficult with as many different vues about such matters as there are families, each family must decide what is right for them based on their own values, beliefs, etc. I hope as you deal with these tender matters with your family that you, too are able to trust your children and gut to guide you.

The Mom Chronicles: Do Onto Others
Well moms, we’ve survived.  We’ve just about made it through another holiday season and I’d like to believe we are all intact and mostly sane. We may be tired and a few pounds heavier. We may have had a big enough dose of extended family to last for months, if not until the next holiday season, and we have set our sights on to what lies ahead of us next (and I am not talking about standing in return lines or undecorating the tree.) What I am referring to is that yearly tradition of making those infamous New Years Resolutions and figuring out how to ever follow through with them..
I expect this year to be no exception. I have already heard plenty of talk from others about the resolutions they plan to make, most of the standard weight loss, shaping up, quitting smoking, and the like. I, too have begun thinking of what I need to resolve to do this year. Yet, thinking back of all the resolutions I have ever made I can think of one, just one, I actually thought out, planned for and actually followed through with. That has made me think. As I am getting a bit older and my world becomes more and more focused on my family and how I want the world to be better for them, it has become more important to me to not just resolve to do something meaningful, but to actually follow through with it. And that my moms, brings me here.
As I have pondered some of the topics I have written about of late, one theme comes to mind. That is the theme of overcoming the bad or adversities with good. And that thought process leads me to my resolution for this year, which I hope inspires many of you. That is to do onto others.
We all know the old saying, “Do onto others as you’d like them to do to you”. In a time we have seen the effects of other’s selfish, thoughtless actions in our community, we have also seen the effects of those who have risen above it to bring a greater good. My resolution this year is to bring onto others and to teach my kids to bring on to others, good that can help not just them, but ourselves rise above the bad. The possibilites of how to go about this are endless. More importantly, it teaches my kids the importance of helping others and looking out for others, the importance of compassion and caring, and how to be more selfless in a very selfish time.
What is so exciting about this resolution is that the possibilites are endless. Doing onto others can be as simple as smiling at a stranger, or something bigger like helping a neighbor shovel out after a snowstorm. It can be bringing baked goods to a grieving family or volunteering at a community event. This is not a resolution that involves any great amount of funds or time. It is simple gestures throughout that bring differences to the lives of others, while just happening to bring a boost to ones self. This may seem like a selfish aspect in this resolution. While one could argue that helping others or bringing good to others makes one feel good themselves so why not do it, the fact of the matter is that good breeds good. How many times has someone extended a hand out to you in a time of need and suddenly you feel inspired to share that same gesture with someone else? It’s the age old idea of paying it forward. That is my challenge to each of you.
Instead of making resolutions this year that likely won’t stick or impact those around you, in a time when so many people are hurting or in need, perhaps this year won’t you consider joining me resolving to do onto others. Put the energy of change in to others, and I guarantee the effects will last longer then the effects of anything you’d resolve to do simply for yourself. Teach and inspire your kids to do the same. Teach them about doing and giving. It’s not about what you get back, but about doing good for the sole purpose of doing good. Your kids may wonder who is going to pay you for this or that, or why you would do something for another person for no apparent reason, but that is where the flood gates open to teach your children how it is more important to give then to recieve. How the good of the community is better then the good of just ones self. How to step outside of themselves and see and recognize the needs of others. If enough people learn and see this, perhaps that will be precisely the change we need to see in the world. The old cliche is “be the change you wish to see in the world”. If you are frustrated or discouraged by recent acts of vandalism or “bad” in our community, do something about it and be someone that brings the good. While it won’t necessarily make all the bad go away, it certainly will over shadow it.
So with that my moms, I hope you had a most blessed holiday with your families. I ask you to join me in making the spirit of giving that usually occurs most loudly during the holiday season, and make it last all year. As you make your resolutions for this upcoming year I ask that you take a moment to consider how you can be the change you wish to see in our community, and how you may inspire your kids to do the same. Then, may this be the year you follow through on such resolutions that hopefully by this time next year, we have seen a noticable shift in our community. High aspirations? Perhaps. But I guess you have to start somewhere.