I often wonder if the technological advances of the last ten years are really beneficial. Particularly with all the social networking, it sometimes feels like we are too connected. No one needs to pick up the phone anymore because so much vital information is communicated publicly as status messages or tweets. The younger generations have literally grown up on the internet. Privacy requires an incredible amount of hard work and sometimes I worry about the impact it's having on all of us.
But then there are the times when I realize how amazing it is to be instantly connected to a world of people. The opportunity to get back in touch with friends and acquaintances with whom I've lost contact is an incredible thing. I am actively involved in the lives of people I knew over a decade ago solely because we have found each other online. There is no question that these relationships would have petered out completely if not for Facebook reintroducing us. It is really quite special.
But nothing, absolutely nothing, can compare to the way the cyber-network of the world brought together a community in prayer and in hope for Ayelet Galena. A beautiful 2-year-old girl, who I never had the privilege of knowing personally, Ayelet engaged in an epic battle for her life after receiving a bone marrow transplant in August 2011. Through blog entries, status updates and photos, Ayelet's family kept a world of admirers in the loop as to all her ups and downs.
I can only imagine the impact these posts had on Ayelet's family - being able to share their highs and lows with thousands and thousands of people all at once. But I don't have to imagine to know the effect these posts had on those of us on the outside. Never before have I seen a greater coming together of people for a common goal. Regardless of religious affiliation, gender, race or ethnicity, people around the globe were pouring out their heartfelt wishes and prayers for Ayelet every moment of the day. Sharing status messages and "liking" positive updates - people were inspired every day by the strength of this little girl and her unwavering will to live.
And then, this morning, the unbearable news was shared. The status message that so many have feared for so long. After months of holding on, of doing everything she possibly could, Ayelet's body finally stopped fighting. It is incredible to feel such a profound sense of loss for a family that so many of us don't know personally, and yet we do. By letting us in to their lives, the Galena family has created a united community. We celebrated their successes and now we mourn their great loss. In a world that is so divided, this one little girl has united so many.
May Ayelet's legacy live on and inspire the fight in all of us.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
This Virus is Ruining All Our Hard Work!
I want to start off by saying I hate the term "sleep training." I hate it the same way I hate when women talk about training their husbands (though I hate that a little more). To me, training is not something humans do to other humans. When discussing the process of helping our children develop healthy sleep habits, I would much prefer the words teaching, guiding or encouraging. With that said, I would like to discuss a bump we've hit on the road to guiding our son to a full night's sleep.
By the time my son, Matthew, was four months old, he was sleeping through the night. I think our success is a combination of choices that my husband and I made and the happy fact that Matty happens to be a good sleeper. Whatever the reason, it did not take long for me to get used to having a baby who was sleeping nine to ten hours a night. There were still nights when he might wake up around midnight or one and whimper a bit, but a quick visit to pop a pacifier in his mouth usually did the trick. I was so glad to say goodbye to middle-of-the-night feedings and hour-long rocking sessions to calm him down and get him back to sleep.
And then he got sick. And we're not talking about a quick, two-day bug that was miserable while it lasted but then made a swift exit. We're talking about a fever-filled, stuffy-nosed, coughing-fits-in-the-middle-of-the-night virus to end all viruses. And it was awful. To tell you the truth, I was caught a bit off guard. I know that babies get sick, especially babies who are in daycare with other babies all day long. I was expecting this. And yet, I was unprepared for the havoc it would wreak on our nights.
The hardest thing for me was that my poor little guy was just so unhappy. A nose-breather, as most babies are, Matty's biggest problem was that with his nose so stuffed, he was forced to breathe through his mouth. This meant no pacifier, which meant that he was at a loss for how to soothe himself to sleep. At the height of his sickness, he would wake up every hour and each time need some real TLC to have any chance of falling back to sleep. Under normal circumstances, I am happy to let him cry in his crib for a bit, hoping he will find a way to fall back to sleep on his own. On those healthy nights, I know there is nothing wrong and that he is just tired, so allowing him to figure it out on his own is my version of "teach a man to fish." On these sick nights, however, allowing him to cry is different. He is crying because he is sad, because he is sick and needs his parents, and so to leave him there seemed wrong and counterproductive. And so we began going in and holding him and rocking him and making sure he knew we were here and he was loved and telling him, though he can't understand, that if we could make it better, we would.
And for one night this felt fine. And even for two and for three. But then this thing didn't go away. And though he was no longer waking up every hour, he was waking up in the middle of the night coughing and crying for three weeks. And I still felt that I needed to go to him because he still sounded so sad. And yet, I worried that all the nights he spent teaching himself how to go to sleep on his own had been undone by this virus that sent us moving backwards instead of forward. I worried that he would begin to see this new routine as normal, and expect us to help him to sleep every night since that's what we'd done for him throughout his illness. I was afraid that we were making a very big mistake.
And then I remembered. I remembered a promise I made to myself the day Matthew made his entrance into this world. I promised that I would do my best. I promised that I wouldn't get bogged down with the 'right way' and the 'wrong way' but rather I would do what seemed right for us at the time. And during those weeks that my baby was sick, it felt right to go to him. It felt right to hold him and to kiss him and to make sure he is learning that even if we can't make it go away, we can provide comfort. And if that means a minor setback in our "sleep guiding," so be it.
By the time my son, Matthew, was four months old, he was sleeping through the night. I think our success is a combination of choices that my husband and I made and the happy fact that Matty happens to be a good sleeper. Whatever the reason, it did not take long for me to get used to having a baby who was sleeping nine to ten hours a night. There were still nights when he might wake up around midnight or one and whimper a bit, but a quick visit to pop a pacifier in his mouth usually did the trick. I was so glad to say goodbye to middle-of-the-night feedings and hour-long rocking sessions to calm him down and get him back to sleep.
And then he got sick. And we're not talking about a quick, two-day bug that was miserable while it lasted but then made a swift exit. We're talking about a fever-filled, stuffy-nosed, coughing-fits-in-the-middle-of-the-night virus to end all viruses. And it was awful. To tell you the truth, I was caught a bit off guard. I know that babies get sick, especially babies who are in daycare with other babies all day long. I was expecting this. And yet, I was unprepared for the havoc it would wreak on our nights.
The hardest thing for me was that my poor little guy was just so unhappy. A nose-breather, as most babies are, Matty's biggest problem was that with his nose so stuffed, he was forced to breathe through his mouth. This meant no pacifier, which meant that he was at a loss for how to soothe himself to sleep. At the height of his sickness, he would wake up every hour and each time need some real TLC to have any chance of falling back to sleep. Under normal circumstances, I am happy to let him cry in his crib for a bit, hoping he will find a way to fall back to sleep on his own. On those healthy nights, I know there is nothing wrong and that he is just tired, so allowing him to figure it out on his own is my version of "teach a man to fish." On these sick nights, however, allowing him to cry is different. He is crying because he is sad, because he is sick and needs his parents, and so to leave him there seemed wrong and counterproductive. And so we began going in and holding him and rocking him and making sure he knew we were here and he was loved and telling him, though he can't understand, that if we could make it better, we would.
And for one night this felt fine. And even for two and for three. But then this thing didn't go away. And though he was no longer waking up every hour, he was waking up in the middle of the night coughing and crying for three weeks. And I still felt that I needed to go to him because he still sounded so sad. And yet, I worried that all the nights he spent teaching himself how to go to sleep on his own had been undone by this virus that sent us moving backwards instead of forward. I worried that he would begin to see this new routine as normal, and expect us to help him to sleep every night since that's what we'd done for him throughout his illness. I was afraid that we were making a very big mistake.
And then I remembered. I remembered a promise I made to myself the day Matthew made his entrance into this world. I promised that I would do my best. I promised that I wouldn't get bogged down with the 'right way' and the 'wrong way' but rather I would do what seemed right for us at the time. And during those weeks that my baby was sick, it felt right to go to him. It felt right to hold him and to kiss him and to make sure he is learning that even if we can't make it go away, we can provide comfort. And if that means a minor setback in our "sleep guiding," so be it.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
It's Okay to Enjoy Being Away
It's been four months since I gave birth to my son, Matthew. Thinking back over the the time since he was born, I feel incredibly fortunate to be reflecting on a long list of moments that made me smile, and only a few where I felt frustrated or unhappy.
That said, there is one morning that stands out in my mind as the most difficult: the first time I dropped Matty off at daycare. I don't think I realized just how attached I had become to him over the twelve weeks of my maternity leave. Since the moment I brought him home, Matty and I spent close to every minute of every day together. I had left him with his dad or grandma for an hour or so when I needed to run an errand or take a nap, but for the most part, we had been together since the second he entered the world. I knew he needed me for all of his basic needs, but it didn't occur to me that I needed him, too. Being with Matty provided me with a sense of comfort. Any worry or anxiety I had as a new parent was put at ease when I was holding him. I knew he was okay, and I didn't have to worry.
Dropping Matty off at daycare was the first time I was going to be away from him for an extended period of time. I was a ball of different emotions - sadness, fear, loneliness, not to mention all the feelings I had about going back to work. I walked in and handed my baby to the staff and he immediately started hysterically crying. He was not quite 3 months old, and I am positive that he was crying because he was tired and not because I had handed him off, but it was still excruciating to hear. I started crying as well. I decided I needed to get out of there and let them do what they are trained to do. I knew Matty would be fine once he slept, and at his age he didn't really know if I was there or not.
I went to work and tried to stay busy, keeping my mind focused and not thinking about Matty and how much I missed him. The end of the day could not come fast enough. As soon as I was finished seeing my last client, I ran to pick him up as quickly as I could. The feeling of elation I had when I walked in and saw him is impossible to describe. The unparalleled joy of seeing him after our time apart actually made me feel like the separation was worth it.
It has been six weeks since that first day. While it is still slightly sad for me to drop him off in the mornings, I have also come to enjoy our time apart. For one thing, it really does make me appreciate our time together in a way I never could when I was always with him. Additionally, as he gets bigger and more active, I can do less and less of my own to-do list while he's awake. I try to drop him off a little before I need to leave for work or to get home a little before I need to pick him up. Knowing that he is in good hands means I can take care of a few things - errands, housework, etc - that I can't do when I am entertaining him.
At first I felt terrible about not rushing to get him the second I could. But as time has passed I realize how valuable this time apart is to our relationship. Becoming a parent does not mean I've completely become a different person. What it means is that the old me - the one who likes to jog along the Schuylkill or write a blog post - has to fight a little bit to survive. By taking some time for me when I am able to, I am actually enhancing the quality of my relationship with my son, because I am ensuring that I don't feel even the slightest bit resentful when I am with him.
Of course, most of the time Matthew and I spend apart is when I am at work, so I am still trying to find ways to do the things I enjoy. But putting Matty in daycare has helped me realize that it is okay to want some time apart, and that I shouldn't feel guilty for enjoying my time away from him.
That said, there is one morning that stands out in my mind as the most difficult: the first time I dropped Matty off at daycare. I don't think I realized just how attached I had become to him over the twelve weeks of my maternity leave. Since the moment I brought him home, Matty and I spent close to every minute of every day together. I had left him with his dad or grandma for an hour or so when I needed to run an errand or take a nap, but for the most part, we had been together since the second he entered the world. I knew he needed me for all of his basic needs, but it didn't occur to me that I needed him, too. Being with Matty provided me with a sense of comfort. Any worry or anxiety I had as a new parent was put at ease when I was holding him. I knew he was okay, and I didn't have to worry.
Dropping Matty off at daycare was the first time I was going to be away from him for an extended period of time. I was a ball of different emotions - sadness, fear, loneliness, not to mention all the feelings I had about going back to work. I walked in and handed my baby to the staff and he immediately started hysterically crying. He was not quite 3 months old, and I am positive that he was crying because he was tired and not because I had handed him off, but it was still excruciating to hear. I started crying as well. I decided I needed to get out of there and let them do what they are trained to do. I knew Matty would be fine once he slept, and at his age he didn't really know if I was there or not.
I went to work and tried to stay busy, keeping my mind focused and not thinking about Matty and how much I missed him. The end of the day could not come fast enough. As soon as I was finished seeing my last client, I ran to pick him up as quickly as I could. The feeling of elation I had when I walked in and saw him is impossible to describe. The unparalleled joy of seeing him after our time apart actually made me feel like the separation was worth it.
It has been six weeks since that first day. While it is still slightly sad for me to drop him off in the mornings, I have also come to enjoy our time apart. For one thing, it really does make me appreciate our time together in a way I never could when I was always with him. Additionally, as he gets bigger and more active, I can do less and less of my own to-do list while he's awake. I try to drop him off a little before I need to leave for work or to get home a little before I need to pick him up. Knowing that he is in good hands means I can take care of a few things - errands, housework, etc - that I can't do when I am entertaining him.
At first I felt terrible about not rushing to get him the second I could. But as time has passed I realize how valuable this time apart is to our relationship. Becoming a parent does not mean I've completely become a different person. What it means is that the old me - the one who likes to jog along the Schuylkill or write a blog post - has to fight a little bit to survive. By taking some time for me when I am able to, I am actually enhancing the quality of my relationship with my son, because I am ensuring that I don't feel even the slightest bit resentful when I am with him.
Of course, most of the time Matthew and I spend apart is when I am at work, so I am still trying to find ways to do the things I enjoy. But putting Matty in daycare has helped me realize that it is okay to want some time apart, and that I shouldn't feel guilty for enjoying my time away from him.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Welcome to My New Blog :)
As some of you may know, I recently started writing for Examiner.com as a "Philly New Mom." I have been wanting to write more seriously and I came across the Examiner opportunity on careerbuilder.com. It was a good experience because it helped me realize exactly what I want - and don't want - from a writing gig. The Examiner is really looking for reporters - people to investigate stories, get new information, survey the local population, etc. I, on the hand, am looking for a forum to voice my thoughts, feelings and observations on being a new mom. The Examiner requires that their writers write objectively in the third person - a perfectly legitimate requirement for a news source. I am much more interested in writing in the first person. I want to share my knowledge, discuss everything I'm learning along the way and maybe even provide some advice when I think I have some to put out there.
I am very grateful for my brief stint as an Examiner. It got me more active on twitter, helped me discover that there is a world of mom bloggers out there and made me realize that I'm really excited about this as a writing opportunity. And so, I have left my post as an Examiner and have created this blog to share with anyone who's interested in reading. I plan to post both personal experiences and general parenting thoughts as well as continuing to recommend helpful parenting info in the Philly area.
More to come soon. Hope you'll come back and visit!
I am very grateful for my brief stint as an Examiner. It got me more active on twitter, helped me discover that there is a world of mom bloggers out there and made me realize that I'm really excited about this as a writing opportunity. And so, I have left my post as an Examiner and have created this blog to share with anyone who's interested in reading. I plan to post both personal experiences and general parenting thoughts as well as continuing to recommend helpful parenting info in the Philly area.
More to come soon. Hope you'll come back and visit!
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