Highlights from Three Under Three and a Half

Haven't really been able to take much of a breath since Tommy arrived on July 20th.  Not surprisingly three kids under three and half ain't easy.  Not by a long shot.  But then again, you somehow survive each day -- not because of any great skill or insight on how to do something this insane -- but more just because you have to.  There is no failure option so you just have to figure it out, day-by-day, hour-by-hour and minute-by-minute.  I have no idea what I'll end up doing for the rest of my life once these kids can take care of themselves, because at this rate I will have to immediately check myself into a rehab facility.  My body and my mind are tired.  But my heart is full because you can't deny how lucky and fortunate we've been.  I mean, look at these kids!

Haven, 3 1/2

Ronan, 2

Tommy, almost 3 months

But just having healthy, cute, adorable kids doesn't exactly correlate to rainbows and butterflies shooting out of my ass on a daily basis.  This job is hard.  It's brutally hard.  Physically and mentally.  It's also mind blowingly ridiculous at times -- both good and bad.  You have to laugh and cry at a good deal of it.

Here are some highlights from the depths of three under three:

36 hour labor and delivery with my third child.  What?  I thought my third would fall right out of me onto the floor while I was doing dishes one afternoon.  Turns out, the most immediate lesson learned right from (quite literally) the moment you decide to start having kids means you will literally have no idea what to expect at any given moment or have very little control (if any) over any or all of it.  Laboring for almost two days to give birth to my third child is one of those unexpected situations.  Hey, at least I got to try an epideral for the first time!  What in the WORLD was I thinking birthing my first two without as much as a tylenol on board will forever baffle and amaze me.  Even though I was admitted on a Wednesday and had him on a Saturday (and as you can see from the photo my husband had the best nap of his life during our stay) -- it was an uncomplicated labor and delivery, totally healthy baby boy - nothing to complain about but how damn long it took and how awful having a newborn and two toddlers after being up for 48 hours was.  Not fun.

Breastfeeding.  First of all you don't wear white if you're a mom.  You just don't.  And no one smiles like this while they are breastfeeding.  Whoever decided to portray breastfeeding as the most peaceful, beautiful, natural, and easiest thing to do in the world is an idiot.  Don't get me wrong, the hormones produced by breastfeeding should definitely be put in pill form and sold on the street -- they could probably give heroin sales a run for their money.  But other than that -- it's a bitch.  Third time around -- I did know what I was doing, I guess -- but it didn't make it any easier.

Trying to referee WWF wrestling between a three year old and two year old with your one free foot because literally every other limb is already engaged in the act of breastfeeding -- well, it's just ridiculous.  Yelling at the toddlers over a supposedly peaceful breastfeeding baby?  Not exactly the intended image of "mother and child."  I'm pretty damn sure this not what they meant by having that special time to bond with my baby.  Anyway, breastfed my daughter for 10 months, my first son for three and my second son for two and half months.  You gotta do what you gotta do to survive -- my NOT breastfeeding makes us a happier family.  That's just the way it is for us.

Not mention some of the causalities of breastfeeding.  As if motherhood doesn't lower your self-care standards to the floor as it is.  How about the time I went to the playground next to our house, struck up a nice little conversation with another young family with kids only to come home and realize one of my boobs was out the entire time.  You know you're at the lowest point of your childrearing career when you are unknowingly walking around outside and engaging in conversation with strangers with one of your goddamn boobs hanging out of your oversized baggy-ass nursing top.  Come to think of it, the lowest self-care point in my childrearing career thus far, might have been when I went for a "run" after the birth of my first child with someone I had never met from the mom's club and slowly wet my pants about half way through the run.  I think those two stories are probably tied for first place.

Haven started school.  My little itty-bitty three year old commutes to a Boston Public School in the city on a school bus.  Honestly, this is probably a good thing for her -- even though it's a HUGE transition and very long and active days M-F 8am-3pm.  But she is a very verbal, bright (and thankfully) active kid and she would be bored out of her mind at home battling with Ronan and dealing with me feeding a newborn all day.  School is better for her, I know it in my heart.  And don't get me wrong, as much as I love this kid, having one less little person on my hands is a godsend -- especially with the newborn.  It's best for everyone and we're all slowly getting used to the new schedule.  But she's three.  She's trying to process all the new things she's experiencing, riding a bus, countless new rules and a very structured school day, depending on other adults rather than me....she comes home and she's a hot mess from 3pm-7pm when we practically have to put her down with a horse tranquilizer just to get her into her bed.  Three is tough.  I never understood the terrible two's.  Sure they tantrum at two and don't have many words which makes it worse.  But three?  Three seems to be some kind of psychotic break that they go through.  Their minds are going a mile a minute and the line between reality and fantasy is completely blurred and they have more energy then they know what to do with.  Please god, things will settle out and this decision to have her in school was the right one.  But like every tough decision in motherhood -- there's a cute and adorable moment to counter your worries and fears -- that makes you feel like everything's going to be alright...like this one:



The Big Joovy Caboose.  No, unfortunately this is not the name of a porno I'm recommending to get your dying post-baby-making-sex-life back on track.  Instead, this sexy beast is what it takes to get your three under three around town.  It's a triple stroller.  And if it seems like a completely ridiculous piece of equipment that will undoubtedly put you in a wheelchair for the rest of your life or at the very least require physical therapy into your 50s and 60s -- it's because it will.  As my friend describes it, "it's like pushing a wall of children."

 

Tommy.  The newborn.  Ah yes, to be back at square one again with a newborn.  Sleep deprivation.  Pee in your eye.  Spit up in places you cannot for the life of you figure out how it got there.  The breastfeeding.  Or even worse, the decision to stop breastfeeding and then having to stuff your bra with cold cabbage leaves (look it up, it's for real y'all).  You understand why they use sleep deprivation as a means of torture in overseas prisons.  Holy shit.  It was one thing when I had my first child.  But sleep deprivation and two toddlers?  You can see why it's better off that Haven's at school.  I am a mess without sleep.  But I have to say, and I know this is hard to hear when you only have one kid -- but the newborn is easy.  It's the toddlers that will run you right into the ground or give you bi-polar disorder.  Even saying that, Tommy is wonderful.  He's really such a good baby.  Going with the flow like so many people say #3 has to...he hasn't started to give us much more than four hour stretches at night -- but he's not fussy so, I'll take it.  He has the tiniest little features and looks a lot less like a pudgy newborn whose cheeks you want to squeeze and a lot more like Benjamin Button.  Seriously, he's 10 or 11 weeks old (who knows at this point) but he looks like he's 65 and likes to play his numbers down at the local.  Either that or drive a cab in NYC.  But no matter how adorably old he looks, he's not causing me a lot of grief, he's got that awesome new baby smell and he's cuddly -- something you miss when your toddlers are too active to sit still with you for five minutes anymore.  He's so so so sweet in that newborn-doesn't-walk-or-talk-yet way.  Knowing he's my last, even thought this motherhood thing has whooped my ass completely -- it's bittersweet knowing he'll be my last tiny little guy and that the kids will all only get older and bigger and move up and on from here on out.  What a wild ride....but here he is in all his perfect, little old man glory.  Oh, and one more thing.  He has orange hair.  Not red hair like Ronan's did at the start.  It's orange.  Like leaf-peeping orange.  He cracks me up and I'm so glad he's here to join the crew.

Each day is totally unpredictable and unbelievably demanding.  It's hard to do ANYTHING with three under three.  We do lots of stuff as you will see from the following pictures.  But I seriously don't know how the hell we do it until it's behind me and I'm sitting on the couch (someitmes crying into) a glass of wine feeling every bone and muscle ache in my body.  This is undoubtedly the most challenging time of my life.  I will be shocked to death if anything more happens in my life that could ever hold a candle to the extreme hustle I have to do day in and day out currently with these three.  I know things will change.  I know things will get easier as they all grow.  I just hope I'm not too exhausted and broken down when it is over that I feel like I couldn't really enjoy any of it while I had them all within my reach.  I wish it wasn't so hard sometimes.  But it is hard.  There's just no way around that.  And when I do take a step back and look at pictures like these - it does help me savor the moment -- even though that's all it really is -- just one quick moment of reflection before getting right back to the work of it.  But's that's ok.  It really just has to be ok that way.  And during all the hard work and constant running around --  man, there are some funny moments.  

Really.Funny.Moments.

Tommy might not think this is so funny.  But it is.

Bella's 7th Birthday

Haven taking over her GI doctor's computer when he left the room.

Me ending up on the news at 7 am outside my daughter's school during the Bus Strike.
No shower, no sleep, wearing cabbage.  Good stuff.

Really.Special.Moments

Ronan's First Red Sox Game 

Together.Moments.
.....they are rare amidst the hustle and bustle -- but when they happen we try our best to slow down enough to soak it all in.

My Little Macklemore

We don't listen to kid music at our house.  I can't do it.

I find enough of this stay-at-home stuff hard enough on its own without having Elmo, Raffi and the Wiggles on a constant loop in the background.  No thank you.  So...we listen to my ipod and we listen to the radio.

The kids of course prefer the upbeat tempo of pop music on the radio to the occasional Shins song that comes across on my ipod playlist.  So, instead of the The Muffin Man, Haven learned how to sing Let's Dance by Lady Gaga.  She quickly became obsessed with any Lady Gaga song that came on the radio or on the television.  Given she was only 18 months at the time and not fully understanding that there is a huge difference between the lyrics of The Muffin Man and what Lady Gaga means when she says she's "bluffin' with her muffin.'"  But in all honestly, we're fine it.  We've got plenty of time ahead of us to talk about the different kinds of muffins that exist in the world -- and life's too short to pull the censorship card out in a world where our kids are exposed to all kinds of things we won't ever have full control over.  As a general rule, we want our kids to be exposed to more things not less things and we want to talk them through it as best we can and give them the tools to critically think about the world around them -- not shelter them from it.  But that's just us.  I get there are a lot of people that wouldn't agree with me on allowing your two year old to learn the words to a Lady Gaga song let alone watch one of her music videos on TV.  And that's totally fine.  And it definitely stuns a few people -- like when Haven was about two and half and her play school teacher told her she could pick the song they were going to sing during circle time and she said, "I wanna sing Pumped Up Kicks."

Turns out, Ronan is exactly the same.  He loves music too.  He loves to dance.  While Haven is going bananas in the backseat like a love struck teenager to One Direction, Ronan will put up with it and maybe dance a little -- but when a rap song comes on -- that's his joint -- that's when he really lets loose.  Like seriously shake his grove thing as much as he can within the confines of the carseat straps.  Jay-Z, Kanye, even the little rap solos that are inside most pop songs these days -- the kid loves him some rap.

So, when he was about 18 months old and heard Thrift Shop for the first time (which was barely on the radio back then -- I know, hard to imagine now) I thought his head was going to explode.  So earlier this year, when he wasn't all over the place, I sure as hell had never heard of Macklemore and had no idea who he was.  So we looked him up.  Not gonna lie -- I assumed he was black. Well....he's not only a white rapper, but he freakin looks like Ronan.  He looks like a 30 year old Ronan in a fur coat.  Brian and I almost died.

Once the song caught on in popularity and was overplayed on the radio he heard the announcer say Macklemore so many times that he started asking for more Macklemore -- "I want Macklemore."

Well...my little Macklemore turned two today :)  And we Macked out his room with some Macklemore merch and got him a Macklemore t-shirt to boot.  Don't worry -- he liked his plastic t-ball and golf club set, too -- he's not a total baller/gangster/thug -- but he was definitely psyched about the Macklemore inspired gifts.

Happy 2nd Birthday, Ronan.  Let's hope we can only be so lucky and that you'll be a pimped out strawberry blonde rapper from Southie and we'll just ride off into the sunset on your coat tails while you're makin' it rain.  Love you little, man.  You are literally my everything.  

Family First

 So, I've been thinking about this post for a while now.  It's about my family.  Not the one I created but the one that created me.  I miss them.

They live right down the road and we are very very close.  They are super supportive of me, my husband and our children, they are always there for me, they call me all the time, and I see each of them at least once a week when they aren't traveling.  So, how is it that I can miss them so much?
Here's how:  my life is 150% consumed by the family I've created.  Literally everything I do morning 'til night revolves around my husband, my three kids, and my dog.  Which is awesome in a lot of ways because without a shadow of a doubt -- I am ALL IN.  I will not look back at this time in my life and have any regrets or missed opportunities.  I will never say I was being pulled in a million directions and could never give childrearing my full attention.  There will be no regrets of having missed anyone's first steps or first words.  I was there.  I've been the person to help them learn to walk, to talk, to sooth themselves, and more recently I am now the center of their universe in learning right from wrong (otherwise known as "good job!" and "don't ever do that again!"  My relationship with my husband has gone from planning the occasional night out or vacation together while negotiating different work schedules, travel schedules, and our combined finances to spending close to 100% of our time within the four walls of our home and negotiating things like how best to load the dishwasher, what's for dinner, where are my socks, and how are we going to split up the night feeds.

I don't work -- so I can't even say that I'm also forced to share a part of myself within the larger workforce.  I don't have "work" friends anymore or colleagues to lunch with and/or dish about current events.  Now wait -- that's not entirely true, I do have colleagues that I lunch with -- it's just they have awful table manners, speak in extremely loud voices, they never pick up the tab (or anything else for that matter) and the conversation is usually extremely repetitive and one-sided.  They NEVER ask me what I think about anything. They just talk at me.  They are adorable, yes -- but mentally they tend to be more mind numbing than brain stimulating if you catch my drift.

So, back to my family.  How can they be such an integral part of my day-to-day or week-to-week and I can still miss them so much?  Unlike my former work colleagues, they never "stopped" working with me.  My parents and my brother are still very much a part of the job I do.  They give me solid advice when I need it, they give me constructive criticism when I ask for it, they cheer me up when I'm down, and they laugh, love and celebrate my successes and the successes of my kids and my husband.  It sounds like a perfect relationship doesn't it?  That's because it is.  The imperfection lies within me and within the imbalance that comes with being 150% consumed by ANYTHING -- work, a relationship, kids -- whatever it may be.  For me it's my kids right now and getting our family up and off the ground these last three years.

Almost every interaction I have with myself or with anyone around me is about my kids.  From little things like "can you pass me that burp cloth" to "can you take Haven and Ronan to the zoo while I nap with the baby?" to "can you find me a used basketball hoop or a pink booster seat the next time you're out shopping?" to big things like can you move in with us after my daughter with the heart condition isborn to to provide extra support we will need to forge ahead through the unknown of both having our first child, and having our first child be very sick.  It's been all about the kids.  All of the time.

I used to sit down and have dinner with them.  We used to grab the occasional drink together and talk about the news, our different jobs, our friends, our extended family, or travel plans for Thanksgiving or Christmas.  Not anymore.  Now it's just texts and voicemails about dropping shit off that I need, babysitting the kids, checking in on me to see how I'm "managing" everything, and hearing about holidays and travel plans that don't necessarily involve me and my growing, impossible-to-travel-with-right-now brood.

If we do get the off chance to talk about current events or family -- I am either half listening because I'm too tired to even shift my focus to something outside of my everyday wash-rinse-repeat with the kids, or I am so out of the loop on family stuff I have to spend most of conversation asking them to remind which cousin they are talking about, or I have to admit half way through a semi-interesting current events story that I have the news DVR'd but I'm three weeks behind on the evening news so if it's happened in the last several days, I don't know about it yet.  I'm even behind on the weather.  When you find out you are the last person to know about the weather, you know things have gotten pretty bad.

They bring me meals because I can barely get around to cooking.  They come over and garden or build me a shed  -- because while I must admit I do occasionally make it outside with all three kids to hang in the backyard -- I sure as hell don't have time to tend to our own garden or find storage for all our accumulating kid crap.  Every last thing they interact with me around is not only about the kids -- it's about bailing me out.  I just don't contribute anymore.  Not because I'm an asshole -- more just because I don'thave anything to bring right now to the"metaphoric" table -- except for the amazing children I have created who I have to logistically bring to almost every literal and actual table I am ever invited to sit at -- and as cute and as wonderful as they are -- it's always a shit show of managing behavior and trying to force feed vegetables while trying not to spill anything liquid all over the place -- all while I'm breastfeeding instead of eating myself.

I get so much sympathy from my family.  If it's not looks of "gee, Molly -- I don't know how you do it" it's actually verbalized comments they make to me like -- "well, you can only do the best you can, and you are doing a hell of a job, honey."  Which believe me, is like music to my ears when I am second guessing everything I'm doing or am just so damn tired I don't even know which end is up anymore.  And while they are always the first three people to sing my praises -- they also have a front row seat to view the worst of my parenting, too.

Knowing that my parents made the decision to only have two kids, and I have now gone into uncharted territory with three -- they can look at how physically, emotionally, and financially strapped I am and even my brother can feel a little bit like, well you did bring this on yourself -- you chose to have this family -- you're going to have to man-up and deal.  Which I am.  And they would be the first to defend the fact that I am.  We make this choices in our lives and we have to stand by them.  I definitely stand by my choices to have this family.  I just get sad sometimes about the consequences, I guess.

Unfortunately, parenting isn't one of those things where you ever feel like you are functioning at your optimal level.  You don't randomly wake up one morning, three years in and three kids later saying, you know what?  This week I am definitely operating at the top of my game!  Instead it's fundamentally embarrassing and down right upsetting when your family (or let's just also add the loving husband into this argument for kicks) "helps" you out by taking the kids for an overnight, or out for a walk, so you can rest or "recharge your battery" -- and they STILL come back to a disheveled, frazzled, tired, wreck.  I feel bad about that.  I feel bad that one part relief doesn't always equal two parts refreshed.  It's hard to EVER feel refreshed inside this long haul.  No matter how much help you get, no matter how many compliments, or reassuring comments, or random pats on the back -- even after HELP has arrived and taken over -- you still somehow look like you're about five minutes from spontaneously combusting into a pile of dust on the kitchen floor.

But it's frustrating for me on a personal level that my relationship with my mother, my father, and my brother have changed so much since I started having kids.  All of our conversations are short.  Or interrupted.  Or about the kids.  Or about help that I need.  Or about something I can't figure out how to do without their help.  Or me just asking them to talk about themselves and the amazing things that are going on in their lives, with their friends or at their jobs because I don't have any of that to share with them anymore.  It's a consequence of becoming a parent I completely did not see coming.  I feel like I've had to trade in my own family to have a family of my own.  I miss them.  And as cliche as it is for a stay-at-home mom to say over and over again....I miss me.

And I know, I have a newborn right now, and I'm in it to win it and currently knee deep in breast milk and mustard colored shit.  I have enough experience this time around to remind myself that once again, in time, things will eventually get better -- but the thing about having kids later in life is that you don't really know how much time you have left with your own parents.  Now, jesus, it's not to say that both of my parents have one foot in the grave or that my 32 year old brother is going to kick the bucket anytime soon.  But holy crap have I had to let go of something I loved SO MUCH in having a close relationship with my family in order to start a family of my own and I guess I really and truly do regret that piece of it.  I miss MY family.  My family of four.  I don't want to reemerge from this "young kids" time of my life to one or both of my parents not being as "active" anymore or just generally unable to for a variety of reasons to do some of the stuff we've always been able to do together as a foursome.  And by the time I do reemerge from this -- my one and only sibling will be underwater with his own wife and kids.  So what will that relationship be like after all these years of me being underwater?

Maybe this is just a feeling of wanting to stop the clock a little bit that we all go through as we reach middle age or almost 40 or whatever the hell you want to call it.  Maybe it's a side effect of having chosen to stay at home with my kids -- knowing that given the option tomorrow to return to work, or lunch with my colleagues or go on vacation with my family --  I would probably have to say no -- partially because I don't know how I could EVER go back to the person I was before kids and partially because I know as hard and as isolating as this is right now -- I only have this one chance to put 150% into this stay-at-home-mom-gig-- because the second they are grown up -- they'll go through something like what I'm going through now -- a pulling away from the original family.  Guess it all comes full circle in a way.

I guess, I just needed to get this off my chest.  And since my actual chest is currently engorged engaged, yet again, in the extreme sport of of both breastfeeding and pumping -- I had to throw this up on this here blog rather than carry the additional weight around on top of the three little monkeys I have hanging off my every limb already :)

And Baby Makes Five

A lot has happened since my June 23rd post and as to be expected it's been a little hard to get on the computer and reflect on just how much has transpired since coming up for air after Haven's surgery.  On July 20, 2013 we welcomed Tommy into the world and here's a brief of summary of how that all came about over the past two months and how we got to being a family of five this go around.

• The last two weeks of June, Haven got a special ed placement based on her heart condition and some of her gross motor delays and was assigned to an integrated classroom at a Boston Public School.  My little three year old, just two months out from open heart surgery, commuted across the city on a school bus to her pre-k classroom from 8am-3pm for the last two weeks of June.  Words cannot express how mind blowing it was for both Brian and I to see her recover so fast and then try something so new and so grown up in just two short months.  She loved it.  She'd get on the bus everyday and I'd lift her into her bus seat (which looked enormous in comparison to her little body), she had her little backpack with her, never cried a single tear, only waved and smiled and looked so proud of herself, and so excited for this new adventure.  She is nothing short of amazing.  She is such a tough kid, so willing to try to new things, so social, and trusting of new experiences (likely because of everything she has had to endure), and feeling as good as she does with this new circulation of hers -- she was READY to get out of the house and go learn, and run, and play with other kids.  Putting her on that bus everyday and watching her wave back at me with her head barely reaching above the window and watching her venture off into the world already...well?  It was crazy.  Made me crazy proud and crazy wowed.  "She's going to be ok" I'd tell myself as the bus pulled away with my precious cargo in it and I would walk back alone into the house without her and then I would think no...she IS ok.  My kid, who has been through so much, is ok.  It's really and truly finally going to be ok.  

Here she is eating her breakfast on the front steps waiting for the bus to pick her up.

• Having Haven in school gave me some much needed one-on-one time with my little man, Ronan.  Knowing that Baby #3 was a mere six more weeks away before Ronan was shoved into middle-child status.  Those last two weeks in June gave me the opportunity to spend some really awesome quality time with Ronan.  Without Haven.  Now, I love Haven more than words -- but that's just the thing -- she says about 300 words a minute, is an unbelievable chatterbox (not surprisingly if you've met me or Brian) and so Ronan can easily get crowded out given that he doesn't walk or talk as much as she does.  At 21 months -- this kid was SO frustrated with the fact that he doesn't have the walking down and he cannot for the life of him come up with any other words besides basketball, hockey, baseball or soccer ball to describe anything.  I'm not kidding.  He would try to tell me he wanted an orange and kept saying "basketball" over and over and over again until tears were streaming down his face with frustration.  It is true that basketballs and oranges do look somewhat alike -- but this poor kid literally can ONLY describe things through the lens of sports balls.  He is all Brian.  I can barely identify the name of the right ball with the right sport.  And it makes me laugh that I gave birth to a kid who is so sports centric when I know literally next to nothing about sports.  But the limited sports vocabulary combined with only being able to scoot or "walk" on his knees made our scared one-on-one time a little challenging for both of us.  He is so clearly ready and desperately wants to walk but he's just not  there yet and therefore he is SO FRUSTRATED.  And honestly, being 9 months pregnant -- I'm pretty much frustrated all the time too.  So the end of June and most of July was a little brutal on the Ronan front.  If sports are literally the center of your universe....you can only shoot hoops and dribble from your knees for so long before having a nervous breakdown.

 
So, I'll be honest....as awesome as this video is (let alone the fact that he always scores when she shoots...literally almost every time -- and yes, I realize he is dribbling a baseball or softball or whatever it's called) it doesn't quite capture the frustration Ronan has been going through while transitioning into a toddler.  Let's just say these were not Ronan's best months as a human.  I'd like to say he beautifully emerged from his cocoon of babydom into a gorgeous butterfly -- but it was more like a scene from the exorcist watching this metamorphosis happen.  I called him an asshole in my head more than once.  I did.  I admit it.  I absolutely hate the developmental transition into walking and talking.  I might be outing myself as a terrible parent here -- but I gotta be honest -- trying to be an active (let alone positive) participant in helping your child become a walking and talking human is nothing short of excruciating.  There is hardly anything you can do to help them.  They just have to work it out, on their own and in their own time.  That could take two weeks or 12 weeks.  And it's just not practical or safe to wear earplugs all day long while minding children.  Here's a PG video of Ronan being slightly miserable during this transition.  The rated R videos that I keep in the vault I would rather not share for fear of social services taking him away from me for how poorly I handle this stage of parenting:

Thankfully, fast forward six weeks later and Ronan has made incredible strides -- he's talking, he's walking -- he's so much more content, happy, and totally not an asshole anymore.  He has transitioned to the other side and is literally the cutest most adorable almost two year old money can buy.  He is simply wonderful and we are LOVING this new little man in our lives and just want to eat him up he's just so damn perfect....see for yourself.

But getting here was a bumpy ride.  That's for damn sure.

And guess what?  We get to do it all.over.again.  Because we have another human being to raise and help make it through all these same transitions.

His name is Tommy and he arrived two weeks earlier than we expected.  Not in the "oh-my-god-my-water-just-broke-I-think-I'll-call-the-neighbors-and-take-a-cab-to-the-hospital-and-birth-this-one-myself-since-it's-my-third-and-it'll-probably-just-fall-right-out-of-me-in-the-cab-on-the-way-to-the-hospital-anyway" type arrival I was expecting.  Oh, no.  Instead, I show up at my 37 week appointment, find out I haven't gained any weight in like a month, the baby is fine but my placenta might be "getting old" (seriously, I think that's literally what they said me -- the doctor straight up disrespected my old ass placenta right to my face in the doctor's office) and said --- while the baby is probably fine at this point it's better "out than in" and we're going to have to schedule you for an induction.

Awesome.  Okay -- so what like next week I'll come in for an induction? (secretly giving me time to start pushing when the kids aren't looking and try to go into labor on my own).  Ummm, no.  Like tomorrow.  We want you to come in tomorrow for your induction.  Oh boy.  So, I gotta call my husband and tell him we're going to have a baby by the weekend?  Yes.  You should call him.  We'll see you back here tomorrow night to start the induction.  Jesus.  It's game time.  We're going to be a family of five sooner than we planned.

Ugh.  On the one hand it was a good thing that I could make arrangements for the kids, get my shit together for  the hospital which - who am I kidding -- if I didn't have time to gain weight during the entire nine months of the pregnancy -- you can imagine I didn't exactly have a bag packed for the hospital even though I was full term and 37 weeks.  So, I guess a healthy diet of string cheese, goldfish, and a grand total of about 16 prenatal vitamins that I barely remembered to take over the course of the entire pregnancy didn't really put me at a healthy pregnancy weight, eh?  Hmmm, that's so fascinating.  I thought our bodies were meant to do this stuff?  Poor kid is probably starving in there let alone trying to survive off the grandmother of all placentas hobbling around on a cane inside my uterus.

Now, don't get me wrong -- I was a little worried for the baby.  Especially after everything I'd been through with Haven.  I sure hope the baby IS actually ok.  I hope the reason I'm so small and didn't gain weight doesn't mean there is actually something wrong with the baby that they can't see.  But given during Haven's pregnancy I was eating freakin kale, and flax seed, and drinking organic water for christ sake and she came out with half a heart -- I can't assume that I  completely screwed this kid's chances because of my far less healthy lifestyle due to chasing two toddlers around was going to make or break this pregnancy.  So I have to assume everything is going to be fine and just accept the fact that I have to be induced.

It probably won't take long anyway.  They'll just give me that cytotec pill thingamajig and I'll have the baby in like three hours.  Having had a natural child birth with no meds in 2010 and again in 2011 -- I sure has hell can get the job done here in 2013.  I'm a pro at this point, right?  Who's with me?!?!?

Just another lesson in things NEVER turn out how you think they are going to when it comes to labor and delivery -- or hell, I guess in life in general at this point.  Multiple rounds of cytotec 36 hours later I still hadn't had the baby.  I was exhausted.  Meanwhile, Brian was getting the hospital version of a resort vacation.  I mean, when in the last three and half years have we been anywhere without the kids for 36 hours where the main task was to get as much rest as possible before active labor started and to order room service every 4-6 hours for our meals.  I mean, even for me -- as exhausting as the induction was -- this was as close to a vacation as we'd had since we got married.  Sad, but true.  So...here I was waiting and waiting and waiting for labor to start and Brian was getting like the best nap of his life.  It pretty much went down like this:

Freakin finally, active labor started, and three hours and three pushes later, Tommy finally arrived:

He was clearly just as annoyed with the induction as I was, but he was healthy and minus being a little jaundice -- he's pretty much been sleeping off the 36+ hour induction since he arrived.  And given the fact that his actual due date was August 4th -- we're VERY lucky he's so sacked out and sleeping pretty much around the clock so we can adjust to being a family of five.  Obviously, WE aren't getting nearly as much sleep as Tommy is -- but all things considered and given he hasn't really woken up yet as a baby -- we are doing really well given the insanity of having three kids under three and a half.

In saying that though, the cumulative exhaustion is starting to mount, and he's waking up a bit more day-by-day which will undoubtedly only make things harder for the next three or four months as he settles into the beginning of babydom.  And given our track record with the last two -- he'll start scooting at some point, need early intervention services, and refuse to walk until he's two -- but I digress.  But all-in-all, somehow, we've survived the surgery, we've survived Ronan's metamorphosis into a toddler, and now we've survived the labor, delivery and first few weeks with the newest member of our family.

What a freakin marathon of a year,  of three years, of a life it's been.  Thank god it's a good life.  A wonderful life, really.

We did it.  We made it.  We're here.  We've arrived.

So, with that monster of an update -- I'm off to sleep....for the next two hours anyway :) 

Kelley

October 28, 1976 - August 12, 2007

I'm trying like hell to not let you fade away in the six years since I last saw you.  I hated thinking there could ever come a time when you would feel less real in my life.  If I could post a picture of you every morning to make it feel like you've come back to life, I would. And while my memories of you feel softer and more quiet each year that passes, I am thankful for how very real you still feel to me even though you're gone.  We have pictures of you around the house, we share stories about you with the kids.  You still brighten each and every day that I'm alive with that light in your eyes.  I love you and I miss you.

Coming Up for Air

Just now coming up for air.  Can't believe how long it's been since the last time I was able to do this.  Started thinking it wasn't going to happen....I'm glad it has.

We are literally almost two months out from Haven's third and hopefully final open heart which happened on April 24th.  She is doing amazing.  Literally has more gas in her tank than we ever knew was possible.  Clearly they put a whole new engine in there with extra horse power to boot because she is quite literally a different person.  I didn't really know if I would actually be able to see a difference in her after her surgery -- but man-oh-man -- there is definitely a difference.

It's incredible to me that they went in there and did whatever the hell it is they do - and you can SEE on the outside that they changed something major on the inside -- you can see their miracle handy work in action.  Imagine doing that for someone and seeing the results?  Blows my mind....

She used to get super flushed and red cheeked -- even when she was doing nothing.  Not anymore.  Her cheeks are this gorgeous perfectly Irish pale pink color.  She NEVER used to run.  Or rarely tried anyway.  She runs and runs and runs, and spins, and laughs and jumps, and throws herself around.  And she does it with this HUGE smile on her face giggling uncontrollably out loud as she's doing it screaming, "Look at me mummy!  Look at me running!  Look what I can do!"

In a way it's why I found the video that recently went viral of three year old Grayson Clamp so compelling (a deaf child who hears his father's voice for the first time).  Before Haven, I would be like anyone else who was moved to tears by this video -- just trying to comprehend that incredible look of surprise and awe that this little boy shows on his face when he is finally able to hear his dad's voice.  All because of the amazing work of doctors and surgeons like Haven's who make these amazing things happen and who give people the gift of life, sight, hearing or the ability to walk for the first time.  In that solitary moment of joy -- you are giving the greatest gift you can ever give a person.

But what I've witnessed up close these past several weeks with Haven is actually quite similar.  She is literally amazed, in awe, and excited about what her body can do and to witness someone experience that kind of new lease on life -- it's pretty remarkable stuff.  As long as you even get the chance to experience the silver lining of this heart mom stuff -- and many of us don't have that privilege unfortunately --  it's extremely moving, humbling, and just plain amazing.

We recently attended a celebration at Children's for kids who have survived ECMO (in their usual PC way they refer to the kids as ECMO graduates rather than survivors :) and it's a small group given that only 30% of kids survive ECMO nationally and the ones that do oftentimes have significant disabilities, both mental and physical, sometimes stemming simply from the fact that they had to be placed on the life support machine in the first place.  So it's a weird experience walking around a picnic with less than 40 ECMO grads and their families -- all of us noshing on hotdogs and popcorn but knowing we were all VERY close to losing our kids from our lives forever at some stage along the way.  And it's clear that many of these families are still faced with the ongoing day-to-day realities of the disabilities that came with a having to resort to ECMO as a life saving measure.  But again, by the grace of god, not our Haven.

She was on ECMO for seven days (from her 4th day of life to her 11th).  They usually like to get them off ECMO within 24 hours.  They told us during that week that there was a high likelihood we could lose her.  And that if she did survive and was able to be taken off life support, they explained to us the array of disabilities and or delays she very likely could have having been on the machine that length of time.  Not Haven.

This is her at the celebration one short month after her second discharge from the hospital after having open heart surgery:



I mean, seriously?  Seriously.

So in light of that video -- you can imagine -- we continue to be in awe of what has transpired in our lives over the last three years.  There are days where we are so grateful and so thankful we hardly know what to do with ourselves.  We want to make Haven's life the best life that was ever lived.  We want everything she touches or comes in contact with to be perfect and happy and wonderful and give her every opportunity to take this gift of life she has been given and make every dream of hers come true.  We want to pay forward all the good luck, faith, grace, and support we have been shown as a family by helping anyone we know who is traveling this path and who could use our help or understanding.  We want normalcy.  For our marriage, for our parents, brothers, and sisters who have had a front row seat to this and most importantly for our children -- so that we can ALL begin to do "normal" family things that don't necessarily revolve around just trying to keep one of our kids alive.  And looking at this video it's hard not to feel like we are well on our way.

And yet life is still hard and super challenging from day-to-day-- even without a life threatening medical condition or a sick child.  We are only now just coming up for air and trying to keep our household afloat (financially and emotionally) with the same extreme pressures that everyone else faces when raising a young family and living off one salary.  And it's pretty clear we've come up for air in just enough time to take a huge deep breath before baby #3 (at no fault of its own, obviously) pushes our heads back underwater again after its born in a short five weeks time  We know we won't drown.  But we will definitely be back underwater.  Sleep deprived and swimming upstream.  It's going to be tough.

So we soldier on.  And I guess I needed to write all that down just to realize WHY I haven't had a chance to write all this down!  Our day-to-day is still very challenging even with a silver lining around it.  And while it would make me sick to my stomach if I EVER thought I was complaining about the life I have so gratefully been given -- I do have to find a place and a time (which is oftentimes this blog:) where I can understand for myself that I am tired.  I have been synchronized swimming for some time now with no breaks, and if and when I can finally make it to the edge of the pool, grab hold of the side, and just rest for a few minutes....I'll realize just how hard I've been swimming this whole time trying to stay afloat.

But as long as all three of my kids, my husband, and even me -- can keep laughing, running, jumping, and spinning around like Haven is in this video -- I'll continue to find the strength to push off from the edge, and get right back out there and swim even longer.

Mother's Day

Haven's surgery on April 24th was a medical success, she had an amazingly rapid recovery and was discharged on May 1st.  We were readmitted unexpectedly on Friday, May 10th because of some issues with her incision but her cardiac function is fantastic so we'll take this next hospital admission in stride.  Her story and details of her surgery and recovery can be followed here or at http://www.carepages.com/carepages/FoleyBaby.

Today is Mother's Day and while we are spending it back in the hospital while trying to manage coverage for our 20 month old son and I am seven months pregnant today -- I am extremely grateful for  my family the health of my husband, daughter, son, and expected baby.  But my Mother's Day will always be special because of one very talented man and surgeon, Dr. Ram Emani.

In honor of Mother's Day today, being back in the hospital under the fantastic and unwavering care of Dr. Emani and our cardiologist Dr. Tworetsky -- I want to post this letter that I wrote to Dr. Emani on my first Mother's Day back in May of 2010 when Haven was just two months old and finally home with us for the first time after surviving her first open heart and a week on life support.

I continue to owe my family to this man, his dedication to his craft, and his continued commitment to keep my daughter and other children like her alive.  It's a relationship, an appreciation, and a thankfulness that I can't really describe except for honoring my gratitude for what he has done for me and my family by sharing this letter and reflecting on how grateful I was in May of 2010 and how grateful I still am in 2013 with my three year old heart baby and the Fontan behind me.  From the bottom of my heart Dr. Emani, Thank You.


Dear Dr. Emani:

Haven just turned 2 months this past week and she's doing really well with us at home.  She is almost 9 and 1/2 pounds!  I have thought of you so many, many times since we left the hospital on April 7th.  And today was a really special day for me and I wanted to drop you a line to let you know I was thinking about you and all that you’ve done for us.

Today was a big milestone because we were never sure what our Mother's Day 2010 would look like since we received our diagnosis when I was 20 weeks pregnant back in October 2009.  Today we got to celebrate with Haven in our arms and we talked about you a lot and how lucky we are that she is still with us. 

Mainly I just don’t know how I can ever express how grateful I am that you came into our lives when we needed you most – you ended up literally saving my daughter’s life.

I never imagined in all my life that I would ever need somebody to do something like that for me.  It’s hard to know how to properly thank you for something like that.  I know we still have a long road ahead of us protecting Haven and trying to keep her safe and healthy – but each and everyday that passes where she’s okay, growing, and spending time with us – Brian and I both think of you and what you did inside her tiny little heart on March 8^th just four days after she was born and we are literally overcome with a kind of gratitude that’s hard to explain.

I can’t stop thinking about how you get up everyday and you and your team face delicate procedure after delicate procedure -- with these tiny little hearts and valves – where you don’t always know what’s going to happen or whether or not you’ll be able to fix what you see inside these little bodies.  Then you have to face parents like us – whom you hardly know – and you have to explain to us what you know and what you don’t know – that you can’t promise anything but that you’ll try your best – and within a single day, we -- a bunch of strangers -- become completely meshed together in an event that could change someone like me and Brian’s lives forever.  In that moment, when you came out of surgery to tell us how Haven was doing and how her surgery went – you became the single most important person in my life.  Haven’s life depended on you.  Mine and Brian’s future depended on you.  That is an unbelievable task to take on for someone you don’t even know – and I will be forever in your debt because of it.

I guess I want you to know that I appreciate all that you’ve done in your life to become the amazing surgeon that you are.  All the sacrifices that you’ve made throughout your life to learn about someone like Haven’s heart and how to fix it  – all the sleepless nights you must have endured studying and learning how to do what you did for Haven on March 8^th. 

And to your family – please send this to them – and tell them how thankful Brian and I are for all the sacrifices that they have made so that you could be at Haven’s bedside the way that you were.  It was one thing for us to feel like days turned into nights and we had no concept of whether it was morning or evening or from one day to the next – but we know that you were there, too – mornings, evenings, middle of the night – it didn’t matter – it felt like no matter what time – you were always there during those critical days in the ICU – and we know that your family sacrifices a lot so that you can be the surgeon that you are – and we want to thank them, too – for everything they have to deal with so that families like ours can have access to someone like you.  When I look at Haven I think of all of you and just how many people have sacrificed so that she can be in my arms.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

After our diagnosis, Brian and I had zero expectations of what lay ahead.  We just told one another that no matter what we’d get through this and we would do everything we could to get Haven safely into the world.  After she was born, we had to transfer all of that love, care, hope, and worry over to you, Tworetzky and your team.  We could not be more grateful to you for the simple fact that we are keenly aware that Haven was not born with the anatomy she needed to survive.  But because of someone like you and the sacrifices that you and the people closest to you have made – we celebrated Mother’s Day today with a beautiful baby girl whose heart beats because of you.

Thank you so much Dr. Emani.

We know we are in the best hands possible as we move forward on this journey with you – thank you so much for continuing to be in our lives and continuing to fix our little Haven along the way.

Molly Foley