Dear Harper,
Today you turned one year old.
All children are miracles, but you are even more so. You and your sister almost didn't come to be. For 12 weeks, we waited, we wondered, we watched, we worried. It was completely out of our control, and that's a horrible feeling. But I felt you move around, literally doing somersaults, kicking me everywhere at once, and it was reassuring. You were having a great time in Mommy's tummy, and I smile when I think about you and Bayla touching each other through your membranes. When you were born, you were small, but you were a beautiful little baby. I loved you and was so proud of you from the very second I laid eyes on you.
You and your sister were soooooo worth it. You are my reward, Harper Jordan Slemons. For what? I don't know. I don't care. I just appreciate you. You are the sweetest, most laid-back, most thoughtful baby. You don't laugh easily (except at your sister), but when you do, it's the best sound. You are an observer. You like to study faces and situations, and your cuteness and sweet nature are so apparent to everyone.
I think in spite of your more reserved nature, you are going to have a lot to say, and it's going to be a hoot. I think you'll have a dry sense of humor like your Daddy, and I think you'll be a reader and a critic. You love music, and you happily rock to children's songs and my terrible rendition of "Shake Your Booty." I love to watch your typically even-mannered expressions break into smiles. Your eyes smile too.
I love your kisses-- you make the kissy sound, and you give me full-on open-mouth kisses. You'd rather be on the floor with your favorite toys than in my arms, which sometimes means you're overlooked in favor of your Tazmanian Devil of a brother or drama queen of a sister. But I always have my eye on you-- I just know I don't have to worry as much.
Your bright smile and gorgeous eyes melt my heart. I can't wait to see you walk, and talk, and learn to read, and discover the music that inspires you, and be who you are.
You are your sister share an unbelievably special bond, and I notice that you love to watch her. You two are a perfect fit, two peas in a pod, a winning pair. But more than anything, you are Harper, and I know that you will always be true to yourself.
I was meant to be your mama, and you were meant to be my youngest. Even though your name always comes last (I just do it chronologically), you are certainly not least. I love you beyond measure, and I always will.
Mama
Friday, April 15, 2011
Dear Bayla
Dear Bayla,
Today you are one year old.
All children are miracles, but you are even more so. You'll hear the story many times in your life, but the odds were stacked against you when your amniotic sac ruptured at 22 weeks in Mommy's tummy, when you were just the size of a head of cabbage. We didn't know it at the time, but when this happens, there's only a 1 in 100 chance of you being born alive. We didn't know it at the time because the doctors wouldn't tell us-- it was that bad. We lived in fear that I would become infected, that you would be born too early to make it, that we would lose not 1 but 2 baby girls. You didn't have any fluid, so you couldn't move around. I was terrified to lie down on my left side because I didn't want you to be under more stress. But the presence of your sister protected you from my unforgiving organs, and you grew and thrived somehow. And you, and Harper, and my immune system stayed strong until 34 weeks, which had been our best-case scenario, and you were born at 1:18 p.m. during an uneventful C-section.
We'd been prepared for all kinds of things before you were born. You might be deformed from not having had fluid. You might not be able to breathe on your own because you had no room or fluid in which to practice. Your hands and feet might have turned in on themselves. But when you were born, you had a smooshy head that corrected itself within a few months, and your neck was twisted (torticollis) and required physical therapy for 11 months...and that was it. You were perfect. You came out looking like such a Greenspan. And you were teeny tiny. I loved you and was so proud of you from the very first second.
I've watched you closely this year, stretched your neck to correct your torticollis while you screamed bloody murder in protest, swaddled you tightly so you'd get some rest, fed you thousands of bottles, wiped your tushie-- sometimes very carefully because of your delicate skin and related terrible diaper rashes-- and loved you. You are easy with a smile and a laugh, you are so cute, you are snuggly and affectionate, and you are still perfect. And you are feisty. So feisty. I've said that somewhere in the universe, your Bubbe Beverly is laughing because she knows what's coming. You're very much like me, and I know I'm in trouble. But that fight, that passion...that's what kept you forming and developing when my body could barely protect you. And so that's my favorite thing about you.
Being a twin is a special, special thing. You will always have someone to watch your back, to whisper secrets with in the night, to be your true other half. You are part of a very special match, but you are always Bayla.
I love being your Mama. You were meant to be mine. I couldn't live without you, your sister, and your brother. I can't wait to see you walk, and talk, and tantrum, and grow curly hair, and play with your sister, and hold your own with your brother, and learn to read, and learn Hebrew, and rock your life. Your life-- the life that you fought for, that your sister shares with you, that has so much promise and potential.
I love you forever, my sweet, snuggly Baby A.
Mama
Today you are one year old.
All children are miracles, but you are even more so. You'll hear the story many times in your life, but the odds were stacked against you when your amniotic sac ruptured at 22 weeks in Mommy's tummy, when you were just the size of a head of cabbage. We didn't know it at the time, but when this happens, there's only a 1 in 100 chance of you being born alive. We didn't know it at the time because the doctors wouldn't tell us-- it was that bad. We lived in fear that I would become infected, that you would be born too early to make it, that we would lose not 1 but 2 baby girls. You didn't have any fluid, so you couldn't move around. I was terrified to lie down on my left side because I didn't want you to be under more stress. But the presence of your sister protected you from my unforgiving organs, and you grew and thrived somehow. And you, and Harper, and my immune system stayed strong until 34 weeks, which had been our best-case scenario, and you were born at 1:18 p.m. during an uneventful C-section.
We'd been prepared for all kinds of things before you were born. You might be deformed from not having had fluid. You might not be able to breathe on your own because you had no room or fluid in which to practice. Your hands and feet might have turned in on themselves. But when you were born, you had a smooshy head that corrected itself within a few months, and your neck was twisted (torticollis) and required physical therapy for 11 months...and that was it. You were perfect. You came out looking like such a Greenspan. And you were teeny tiny. I loved you and was so proud of you from the very first second.
I've watched you closely this year, stretched your neck to correct your torticollis while you screamed bloody murder in protest, swaddled you tightly so you'd get some rest, fed you thousands of bottles, wiped your tushie-- sometimes very carefully because of your delicate skin and related terrible diaper rashes-- and loved you. You are easy with a smile and a laugh, you are so cute, you are snuggly and affectionate, and you are still perfect. And you are feisty. So feisty. I've said that somewhere in the universe, your Bubbe Beverly is laughing because she knows what's coming. You're very much like me, and I know I'm in trouble. But that fight, that passion...that's what kept you forming and developing when my body could barely protect you. And so that's my favorite thing about you.
Being a twin is a special, special thing. You will always have someone to watch your back, to whisper secrets with in the night, to be your true other half. You are part of a very special match, but you are always Bayla.
I love being your Mama. You were meant to be mine. I couldn't live without you, your sister, and your brother. I can't wait to see you walk, and talk, and tantrum, and grow curly hair, and play with your sister, and hold your own with your brother, and learn to read, and learn Hebrew, and rock your life. Your life-- the life that you fought for, that your sister shares with you, that has so much promise and potential.
I love you forever, my sweet, snuggly Baby A.
Mama
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
I used to know it all too
So there's some funny blog post that's been making the rounds for awhile now about how non-parents know everything about how to be a successful parent. I just tried to Google it and can't find it, but you probably know what I'm talking about. Anyway, some maybe 20 year old sat next to us at Costco today while Brady and I were enjoying our healthy, delicious $1.50 all-beef hot dogs and pink lemonade. Those of you who know us well know that Brady isn't a great eater. He never has been, and that fact caused me a lot of stress from the time he was born until about the time he turned a year old, at which point I realized that he was healthy and could decide to eat, or not. He really would prefer to just graze/snack all day. However, so as not to hear a whiny "I'm hungry" 15 minutes after a meal, he is made to eat a certain amount before he can have a treat, usually a Hershey's Kiss or cookie. (yes, I know, don't reward with food yadda yadda. But seriously, folks, this kid wouldn't eat otherwise, and he's in the 5th percentile for BMI, so we'll cross any emotional eating issues when we come to them.)
So anyway, I tell Brady he has to eat 5 bites of his hot dog before he can have some jelly beans. I check my phone, and he says, "I'm done." And I raise the Mom Eyebrow and ask, "You ate 5 bites?" Then a smirk crosses his face and he says, "Yes...." Of course I know he's lying. So I raise the Eyebrow again and repeat my question. As he's answering, I hear from the college student to my left. "I took a psychology class. And we read that children really think they're telling the truth because their memories can't retain information for very long."
So after I got over my immediate urge to punch her squarely in the face, I said, "Well, THIS child has an excellent memory and knows how much 5 is. Kids are also manipulative." Before I really started getting into it with her, I packed us up and left. The frozen chicken sliders were melting anyway. But really, WHO tells a parent about something they read in their psych textbook?
Anyway....deep breaths....So as we approach Bayla and Harper's first's birthday, I've been thinking a lot about all the things I've learned as a parent, and not one of them was some bullshit out of a college textbook. (side note: this will change when the kids get older and get "The Talk," because I was a peer sexuality educator in college.)
So here they are, in no particular order. Not necessarily to be used as advice for you, but hey, if it helps, great!
1. You must immediately realize that not only do you not have any control over what your baby will do/has done/can do, the idea of control is ridiculous. Cases in point:
-- Laboring for 12 hours, followed by a C-section
-- Being certain breastfeeding will be a snap. It is not, and for us, it was totally unsuccessful.
-- Going for a second baby, only to find out you're showing early and are sick as a dog because there are TWO babies.
-- Having a perfectly healthy multiples pregnancy, until your Baby A's water breaks at 22 weeks.
-- Everything about your life with 3 kids.
2. You must ask for help, from your husband, your neighbors, your somewhat estranged family, your close family, the strangers in the grocery store. Do not be afraid, because 99.9% of the time, they do want to help and will.
3. The first year of your baby's/babies' life/lives, you need a good supply of diapers, working Internet with connections to Facebook and amazon.com, easy access to Oreos and decent takeout food, and 40-oz coffee mugs. Your child/children need nothing but your love, respect, and eventually, a schedule written pretty much in stone. If you have multiples, the schedule is sacrosanct.
4. After that first year, probably time to step away from the Oreos, but keep that love and respect coming. Add a good dose of LIMITS, and stick to those limits. Set consequences. And oh, the schedule will be completely screwed because of teeth, travel, your baby's new talents and discoveries, and the dreaded Dropping of the Second Nap.
5. By the time they're about 2.5, your kids have learned how to push every.single.one. of your buttons. As hard as it is, you must not break. Your kid is NOT Drago, and you are the parent. Stay calm, stay collected, and it won't take long for them to realize they aren't going to win.
6. Trust your instincts. Think your kid is sick but the nurse on the phone doesn't think so? Take 'em in anyway. Worse that can happen is that s/he isn't sick, right? Don't think the babysitter or daycare is good? You're probably right.
7. Your partner should be your best support. Man, it's hard with work, crazy kids, bills, etc., but your little family is THE most important thing in the world. Try not to resent your partner when you're up in the middle of the night for the 5th time and he's soundly sleeping. But good God, make them make it up to you.
8. Every child is different, and you have to adjust accordingly,
9. After your babies are born, your life can't be perfect. So decide what you value, and go with those as your priorities. For us, it's not that every toy gets put back each night, and it's not that the floor is swept more than once a week or that the yard is manicured. We'd rather spend an extra 15 min hanging and laughing with the kids before bath. And of course, I must get in some Facebook time at night. :)
10. You are NOT a criminal if you go against the parenting grain. You're not. So what if other moms judge you-- that's not going to stop, no matter which decision you make. Absolve yourself of guilt. (I'm still working on this, but I'm getting better.)
I think I'm just feeling nostalgic as the last babies I'll ever birth are making the quick sprint into toddlerhood. Both girls are standing by themselves and are working up the courage to take their first steps, heaven help us. Thanks for letting me share.
Oh, and the kids are just wonderful. This time last year I was clawing the walls in the high-risk pregnancy area of Northside Hospital. Next blog post on 4/15, when Bayla and Harper turn one. Amazing.
So anyway, I tell Brady he has to eat 5 bites of his hot dog before he can have some jelly beans. I check my phone, and he says, "I'm done." And I raise the Mom Eyebrow and ask, "You ate 5 bites?" Then a smirk crosses his face and he says, "Yes...." Of course I know he's lying. So I raise the Eyebrow again and repeat my question. As he's answering, I hear from the college student to my left. "I took a psychology class. And we read that children really think they're telling the truth because their memories can't retain information for very long."
So after I got over my immediate urge to punch her squarely in the face, I said, "Well, THIS child has an excellent memory and knows how much 5 is. Kids are also manipulative." Before I really started getting into it with her, I packed us up and left. The frozen chicken sliders were melting anyway. But really, WHO tells a parent about something they read in their psych textbook?
Anyway....deep breaths....So as we approach Bayla and Harper's first's birthday, I've been thinking a lot about all the things I've learned as a parent, and not one of them was some bullshit out of a college textbook. (side note: this will change when the kids get older and get "The Talk," because I was a peer sexuality educator in college.)
So here they are, in no particular order. Not necessarily to be used as advice for you, but hey, if it helps, great!
1. You must immediately realize that not only do you not have any control over what your baby will do/has done/can do, the idea of control is ridiculous. Cases in point:
-- Laboring for 12 hours, followed by a C-section
-- Being certain breastfeeding will be a snap. It is not, and for us, it was totally unsuccessful.
-- Going for a second baby, only to find out you're showing early and are sick as a dog because there are TWO babies.
-- Having a perfectly healthy multiples pregnancy, until your Baby A's water breaks at 22 weeks.
-- Everything about your life with 3 kids.
2. You must ask for help, from your husband, your neighbors, your somewhat estranged family, your close family, the strangers in the grocery store. Do not be afraid, because 99.9% of the time, they do want to help and will.
3. The first year of your baby's/babies' life/lives, you need a good supply of diapers, working Internet with connections to Facebook and amazon.com, easy access to Oreos and decent takeout food, and 40-oz coffee mugs. Your child/children need nothing but your love, respect, and eventually, a schedule written pretty much in stone. If you have multiples, the schedule is sacrosanct.
4. After that first year, probably time to step away from the Oreos, but keep that love and respect coming. Add a good dose of LIMITS, and stick to those limits. Set consequences. And oh, the schedule will be completely screwed because of teeth, travel, your baby's new talents and discoveries, and the dreaded Dropping of the Second Nap.
5. By the time they're about 2.5, your kids have learned how to push every.single.one. of your buttons. As hard as it is, you must not break. Your kid is NOT Drago, and you are the parent. Stay calm, stay collected, and it won't take long for them to realize they aren't going to win.
6. Trust your instincts. Think your kid is sick but the nurse on the phone doesn't think so? Take 'em in anyway. Worse that can happen is that s/he isn't sick, right? Don't think the babysitter or daycare is good? You're probably right.
7. Your partner should be your best support. Man, it's hard with work, crazy kids, bills, etc., but your little family is THE most important thing in the world. Try not to resent your partner when you're up in the middle of the night for the 5th time and he's soundly sleeping. But good God, make them make it up to you.
8. Every child is different, and you have to adjust accordingly,
9. After your babies are born, your life can't be perfect. So decide what you value, and go with those as your priorities. For us, it's not that every toy gets put back each night, and it's not that the floor is swept more than once a week or that the yard is manicured. We'd rather spend an extra 15 min hanging and laughing with the kids before bath. And of course, I must get in some Facebook time at night. :)
10. You are NOT a criminal if you go against the parenting grain. You're not. So what if other moms judge you-- that's not going to stop, no matter which decision you make. Absolve yourself of guilt. (I'm still working on this, but I'm getting better.)
I think I'm just feeling nostalgic as the last babies I'll ever birth are making the quick sprint into toddlerhood. Both girls are standing by themselves and are working up the courage to take their first steps, heaven help us. Thanks for letting me share.
Oh, and the kids are just wonderful. This time last year I was clawing the walls in the high-risk pregnancy area of Northside Hospital. Next blog post on 4/15, when Bayla and Harper turn one. Amazing.
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