Jenna's birth story (maybe sensitive)

This is something that is still hard to talk about nearly four years later but finally I've managed to write a version I am happy with. For a long time after Jenna was born I was in denial that the birth could have had any effect on me, and heavily bought into the "live baby = all that matters" thinking that still makes this a story I can't tell in many circles. The most important thing was always, and still is, that Jenna is here with me safe and well. But something else important was taken from us, even was given up willingly by me in my ignorance.

A few months on I began to look back and feel angry about Jenna's birth. What I was let down by wasn't a person or a hospital, just by the world as it is, and there was nobody to blame. I've tried to keep out my later feelings about it as far as possible and stick to memories (I understand that some of you will still feel I'm sensationalising having heard the bare bones story before, but remember that back then I was dishonest with even myself about feeling that, essentially, I hadn't given birth to my own baby).

* * * * *

I had Jenna in hospital - I didn't know as a first time mum that I had the option of homebirth anyway (possibly because I had moved house and had so many different midwives in the course of my pregnancy). I was full of positivity about what birth could be like and would be like for me - much like my attitude to breastfeeding, I was just going to do it and it was all going to be fine.

At five o'clock in the morning I had given up trying to sleep because I knew I was in labour and I was just so excited, I'd been having strong contractions for hours and they were only a few minutes apart but they weren't lasting too long and I was just feeling on a high. I was going to meet my baby!

My mum brought some chocolate croissants for breakfast, our celebration food since I was small, and we sat in the living room of my rented house with Martin trying so hard not to fuss over me every time I put a hand to my stomach to rub away stretching pains. On the ride to the hospital I felt myself getting into a rhythm and knowing when the next contraction was coming. It was peaceful and my heart was rising with each fresh reminder - I was having a baby, it would be soon.

The hospital was quiet but the staff were rushed and businesslike. I felt like a nuisance. I tried to remember what questions to ask, confused by the process and a bit intimidated - but it looked like we were going home anyhow because so far I was barely dialated. I felt defeated, as if somehow I had failed to perform, and had no idea that first babies are often long labours! So up I got from the bed, and my waters broke with a pop and flooded all over the floor. Faint black staining, meconium, and back on the bed I went and a midwife entered the room to tut over what a disaster that was and how it meant my baby wasn't coping and would probably need emergancy help.

The remainder of my feelings of confidence and capability evaporated. I wanted someone to tell me what to do; I wanted to go home; I wanted to see my baby and just know that it was OK. Then we were left alone for a couple of hours before being wheeled to a side room and again left alone. More than anything else I was impatient! Why was this taking so long? And if it was an emergancy why wasn't anyone doing anything to save my baby?

I got up and walked around a bit, still feeling I was coping really well with the contractions and repeatedly telling Martin in shock and amazement, "This isn't as bad as I expected, I can do this!" interspersed with, "What if the baby doesn't make it? I just want to know it's OK..." Someone came in and put a monitor round my belly and someone else came with the birth ball I'd asked for and tried to show me how to sit on it. It seemed wierd and unfamiliar and I wished that we'd been able to book in for some birth classes. I really couldn't get over how long everything was taking and how serious the situation seemed to be, coupled with being left totally alone and nobody directly telling us anything more.

A different midwife and some more tutting - had I done something wrong? The heart-rate thingy wouldn't stay put because I was pacing around so much and could I please sit up on the bed? I resisted but was confronted with the idea that I was putting my baby in danger, so I did as I was told. I couldn't tell if the contractions were more frequent and stronger or not but I was definately starting to think that perhaps I was not very good at labour.

Through the next few hours there was a lot of being left alone and not knowing what to do or say, and every now and again people coming in and fussing over the monitor and not answering my questions. It felt interminable, but when I complained about it I was offered pain relief which I refused, confused as to why I'd want pain relief to stop me feeling tired and sick of people coming in and out. This was nothing like I'd expected, and challenging in totally different ways to what I'd been led to believe - I wasn't helplessly screaming in agony but I wasn't in control, I wasn't "coping" like I thought I should be, I was bored and tired and couldn't stop myself from worrying.

Next came a doctor and another midwife, trying to explain to me why they thought we were in danger and looking at the monitor readout again. I wasn't keeping still enough for the monitor to stay put, and my leaning right forward to rest on my knees with the harder contractions was knocking it loose. I needed an internal monitor which would clip to the baby's head. I still wouldn't be able to move around so much, but now when I rolled around in the bed they would still be able to monitor the heartrate from the nursing station outside. Sorry baby, sorry, I'm doing my best.

From then on I was stuck. I asked a few times if I could lower the bed so I could lie on my side and was told that would slow labour down so I would have to stay on my back propped up. I was offered an epidural and again said that I wasn't struggling so much with the pain, just with exhaustion. Could I please please be allowed to sleep for a while? No, I needed to stay awake. If I had an epidural I could rest, but wouldn't be allowed to go to sleep.

I was asked at one point if I would give permission for them to do scratch tests on the baby's head to see if it was in distress. I said no but they kept asking and telling me what a risk I was taking with my child's life until I told them to do the test. I regretted it immediately as I felt the baby pull away from the instrument.

The panic flooded me, with absolute certainty that what had just happened had violated my baby. "I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry baby, we just need to know you're OK, I'm so sorry...." It took five minutes for the kicking to settle down again afterwards. I was crying and frightened by that and even though the test came back ok they did another three tests in the course of labour (each time causing red bleeding scratches on that little soft head, as I saw after the birth). The last two times I wasn’t even asked – and when I asked them to stop I was told that it would “only take a second”.

When the doctor was walking out of the room the second to last time, I asked if someone would come to talk to me about pain relief. The man who came told me that I ought to have an epidural and get some rest, and that it was what his wife had chosen for both of her babies, and that he hated to see anyone in pain. I said I just wanted the whole thing over with, and anything that would just mean I could stop feeling tired and fed up would be fine. I'd been in labour for about twelve hours, which seemed forever to my inexperience! Enotox was brought in and made me feel sick and dizzy while the epidural was being put in, so I decided to stop using it.

The contractions stopped.

Something in a drip and the contractions were persuaded to start again. I wasn't told what it was and I didn't ask, I just didn't care any more as long as I got my baby out OK. It seemed like it might never happen after the day we'd had. The epidural wasn't really working very well and basically contributing pins and needles to the, now very strong, contractions. I asked for Martin to bring my mum in, tell her it was almost time. In the end she stayed, unable to get out again! Having the two of them there was immensely comforting.

The room literally filled up with people so that Martin, holding my hand very carefully around the needle in it, was pressed up against the side of the bed. Permission was being asked and someone was talking to me about what was happening - was it OK if this student stayed? If a student doctor comes in as well? The consultant is going to come to see you now. And the midwives are changing shift but the one you've seen before (once in the last four hours) is going to stay too so that you have a familiar face. You're ready to push now. Let's get this baby out. Etc.

Pushing lasted a few minutes, before someone said that it needed to be hurried along. The venteuse cup was brought in and my feet went in stirrups. I was told that an episiotomy would be necessary and I said I didn't want one but it seemed that nobody heard, and I got one anyway. Another two pushes, with the heart rate blips on the monitor speeding up a little each time to great critical aclaim; "The baby is really not doing very well now, Sarah, if you can't push it out in the next few minutes we will have to take you to theatre." I gritted my teeth a little, that was NOT going to happen to me. I pushed for one last time, hopelessly trying to keep up with their demands, harder, harder, PUSH, push NOW!

After the baby was born I was shown, and told what I'd had. A girl! We looked down at her and I told her that her name was Jenna and she was ours. Not for nearly long enough though - she was whisked away from me to be put under lights. I was on the enotox again because the pain from the stitches was worse than the labour pains.

Then came the confusion, asking for my baby back and trying to make the doctor doing the stitching understand that the pain was really bad. No-one could understand me. I told Martin afterwards that it was like being under water, or trying to make someone hear you from a great distance away. He at least had understood some of the cause of my distress, and followed our newborn to the table to try to shield her tiny eyes from the glare. Even now I feel cheated that I missed that time, and proud that he knew just what to do and stayed close by her.

It was another half hour, though, before he dared to pluck up the courage to ask if he was allowed to pick her up (his own baby)! He brought her over to me and stood there by the bed, and finally everyone seemed to drift off satisfied that it was a happy outcome. The lights were turned off and we sat there in the dark together, me holding our baby now and singing softly to her in perfect peace. When I look back at Jenna's birth, that's what I see first - the three of us alone in the dark, while I hugged my baby tight and nursed her, singing my heart out while the storm raged outside the window.

Busy Busy Busy!

We have guests this week and have been having a total whale of a time with the extra pre-schooler around. The visitors been out quite a bit meeting friends too though, and so the girls and I have been crafting in preparation for Jenna's birthday party and, well, just generally on principle.

Morgan and Priya with the coloured geometric blocks, and a few minutes later Morgan and Jenna with the same blocks (and also some lacing beads!). They use these mostly for making big buildings and towers to knock down, but occasionally for more imaginative role play too. We have four sets of blocks in total - these bright small geometric ones, some larger more quirkily coloured geometric ones in a trolley, some tiny natural wooden ones with letters carved in (a gift to our newly literate 3yo) and the Tree Blocks. Which are my favorites. :D





Here are the tree blocks in action! Jenna made a farm (and rebuilt it very patiently every time Morgan walked through it). She had the animals all escape and scatter the food everywhere and live wild in the countryside. ;) Thought that might make some of you veggies laugh!





We made chocolate cookies yesterday and they are goood. Not great for the children's sugar consumption, but hey they won't actually eat more than a third of one because they are so rich and contain two entire bars of dark chocolate. Maybe I'll add the recipe later! Oh, but it's not vegan friendly (sorry folks).



Today we did some colouring to make stuffed fish as found on The Artful Parent. And made blow painting seaweed which we love! We're going to do some more colours later on maybe, and use them to make our party invites. :)

Sunny day pictures, sunny weather nursing

In this hot weather, Morgan is nursing like a newborn again, I just can't seem to fill the child up. She has been drinking water and fruit juice too, some high-juice squash, cordial, and non-mummy milk... Yet still she's so THIRSTY!

I did a babywearing class this afternoon for a lovely lady who contacted me via my sling education stuff. She is a local homeschooler with mostly slightly older children but a boy about Jenna's age and a baby too. What a joy to see Jenna playing contentedly with other children, knowing that here was somewhere she wasn't the odd one out. And they were *exceptional* children, I was totally impressed with their behaviour and how thoughful of my two they were - the younger lad took Morgan under his wing and sat in a tent with her doing some colouring in until I was ready to go.

I hope we have more contact with them in future, it was a totally relaxed way to spend an afternoon - chatting about *everything* and practicing with slings while our children taught themselves and learnt from each other. I'm all fired up about unschooling again now and about all of the lovely, passionate and interesting families we're going to meet.



Anyhow, I got these pictures of Jenna and Morgan yesterday in little sundresses. Normally I hate seeing little bare shoulders, it often makes them look too adult-y and I'd rather they covered up a bit, but it is HOT!

Pregnancy and loss, our story

The first time we miscarried it was very early (just two days after our positive pregnancy test). I just started my period as if nothing had happened, and if I hadn't had a strongly positive pregnancy test I never would have known I was pregnant in the first place. Nobody knew outside a very close circle, and it was so hard to know how to talk about it, IF to talk about it. I felt like I wanted to scream at people that I'd just lost my baby, resenting the world for just carrying on as if nothing had happened.

Very shortly after our first early loss, we miscarried again at nearly 12 weeks. I had had blood tests that confirmed everything was going really well, and was only a day off having my first scan. I couldn't believe it for the longest time, and just decided in my heart that we would never have a second child. Morgan was born just over a year later, and in spite of everything I didn't even question that everything was going to go OK this time - miraculously perhaps, it did.

When she was one year old, I fell pregnant again. I was delighted! Until, one day, the bleeding started - and the next day I went into labour and gave birth, at just under 14 weeks. Of course even if we had been playing it safe with telling people everyone would have known this time and we still would have had to face talking about the loss. It has really made me think that although the chances of m/c fall after 12 weeks, that terrible grief can come at any time. Better by far for me to bond early, love a lot if not wisely, and have something to cling to afterwards - that the baby was real and loved and is now gone, and that there are people who care and are here for us.

It took a long time, with the health crisis that followed the loss, to tell everyone that I was no longer pregnant. I had people coming up to me for weeks afterwards congratulating me that I was finally showing only to be told we'd had the baby already, stillborn. I've found, though, that I really need people to know, that I can tell people more easily that we miscarried again than avoid questions about why I'm so ill, so tired, bursting into tears all the time. I also need, I don't know, something concrete. Especially where we've miscarried very early, I need to mark the place where this baby was.

We have always bought things early, and told people as soon as we knew, and will this time. I have baby boxes for all three missing little ones, small things that I bought just for them and photographs of me when I knew I was pregnant even if not showing, congratulations cards, art I did, a burnt down candle stub, a pressed flower. That's how I cope, finding the hard centre of the pain and bringing it out into the light - taking a long hard look at it and making it real for myself so that when I can let go I can really let go. It's something that many other people I know who have lost children think of as impossibly strong or just plain strange.

I don't even know how I am able to move on and be ready to go through the whole thing all over again. There is no way to make it OK. No way to make it easy. You just have to find a way that gets you the support you need, and lets you grieve in the way that suits you. I did a lot of shouting at God, and a lot of just weeping in his presence. I probably have more of that to do still.

One huge thing I have to encourage you to do, wherever in your life you are and however risky it may be to get attached... Celebrate life. Embrace the chance that you may lose it all, and cling all the more tightly to the good and the real and the true. Don't let pain and doubt rule you, because no matter what happens the worst can't be made better by living in anticipation and fear of it. Neither can the good be lessened by acknowledging that it is not entirely ours, not under our control, and as such is to be loved with all we have for as long as we are blessed with it.

I've had cramps almost constantly since we found out I was expecting again. But this morning, unable to resist that last pregnancy test sitting in my cabinet, I tested again. I have felt unable to for the last couple of days, sure that if I admit how pessimistic I was feeling about the baby surviving then it would all be over. I was so convinced that the test would be negative, but the line is darker and brighter today.

The whole world looks darker and brighter, more real, more of everything. Maybe, just maybe, it all really is going to be OK after all.

Some more showing off!

One of the cute little people Jenna draws - now with added body! This one has lots and lots of blonde hair, and is apparently of "Me, being a Princess."



And three little flower fairies made this morning for the season table - and for on the dining table when we decorate for birthdays. Jenna wanted them, and she has her wish - she turns four in just a couple of weeks!

Holding lightly to my blessings

Elegies

Il aura trop tenu
(Dans le fond de sa paume
En face de la mer)

Du sable que le vent
Y prenait grain par grain -

Celui que tient la peur
De devenir nuage.

-- Guillevic

This poem roughly translates as, "He probably held on too tightly (in the palm of his hand, facing the sea) to the sand the wind was taking grain by grain - he who was gripped by the fear of becoming mist." I found it once when I was a teenager and never forgot it, and it has never seemed so fitting as right now. What I grasp slips through my fingers. I am afraid to let go, most afraid of all that nothing I do matters. So I fight.

But right now, I'm letting go. What will be will be, and will be used for the good. My defiance, my fight, is in releasing my control and admitting that I trust that God has not finished blessing us and that His Love cannot turn into a curse.

This life, this baby, is not mine. Somehow, somehow, there is a plan. And it is not mine to stress about. No promises not to whine about it again tomorrow though. ;)

Yesterday in the garden, and other recent happenings

The girls in the garden, in their little space by the painted wall.


Morgan following the chickens around - you can see Gloria's feather loss from the run-in with the fox, and Annabelle is the darker one. Gloria is now the bigger of the two, she seems to have put on a bit of weight!


Morgan stroking Annabelle, who is very tollerant of being loved and pestered. She's the more noisy and feisty one, but very much more docile and friendly when held and petted. Gloria is staid and robustly unflappable, but does NOT like to be picked up.


I'm still feeling very shakey today about being pregnant. I'm trying to let go and just wait and see, but it's hard to hold that love and that fear together in my heart. I feel like I might overflow with either or both. I don't want to lose another baby, but I have to face that now more of my pregnancies have ended in death than in life, and there's not a thing I can do about it (apart from taking folic acid, which I've been doing for nearly ten months now)!

Jenna is delighted by the idea of having another baby, though she keeps telling me that she is worried that this baby might die too. I know, little one, I know - me too. But then she suddenly grins and says, "I'm praying that the baby is big and strong, mummy." That seems to settle it for her, she's praying and that's all she can do so why fret?

Three days ago she brought a picture she had drawn of our family, and held it up critically. "It's all wrong!" She said, "There's no room for bodies, my people have all got only heads. I need to put a body in here before the legs." I didn't say anything, but the next day she showed me some more pictures, and all of her people are now "correct". No more potato people! Time flies...

Best response so far...

As ever, the award goes to my beloved Maternal Grandmother, who said, "Oh no, not AGAIN, Sarah!"

*rolls eyes knowing that of course it was meant in all love and support etc*

I am exhausted, have had a very long day and hardly anything to eat (needed to be in ten different places and had no money for food on the run). Maybe I'll elaborate some time, but it was quite a good day and nothing is actually wrong (I just seriously overdid it). *sigh*

I'm still feeling very unsure about the baby. Trying to take it one day at a time and let myself love this tiny insecure dot, in spite of everything I know about living in the present moment. I KNOW that not letting myself feel anything for it will not shield me at all should anything go wrong. It's still hard to let go of the part of me that feels this new love is dangerous.

This will all look better in the morning (or maybe at least in a few months).

So much for too early to test...

I gave in (typical of me, I just couldn't resist because I knew there was a test in the bathroom cupboard)!

I'm pregnant.

We have another baby, tiny and perfect, growing inside of me. I am totally in shock, even though I wouldn't have tested if I hadn't had a fair idea. I don't know what to say. I've spent the last few weeks being sure that this was NOT the month.

And then that little pink line showed up just a few minutes ago.


Just for good measure, a picture of the whole family at Kelly and Tom's wedding the other day. :)

Still feeling bereft about the loss of a much-loved activity!

Yesterday was our last ever soft play session at a local church. They are moving to a new building, only the whole move means that soft play won't open in the new location for another whole year. The new building is totally inaccessible to us anyway where we live (it will go from one bus at a cost of £3 return to two busses at a cost of nearly £6 return!) but even worse emotionally speaking is that when it reopens Jenna will be five.

One year, and she won't be a pre-schooler any more. One whole year left of not fully fitting in with all of the home-educator activities (aimed at school-age children). The thing is, I've been protected a little bit from having Jenna lose all her friends to school - several of them are younger than her - but this year they all go to school too, and the only people left to do anything with us during the day will be the tiny tots Morgan's age.

It suddenly feels very lonely, very much like taking a turning somewhere on the path and finding ourselves totally isolated. Which makes me panic - I knew we wouldn't always be surrounded by people, so if this upsets me so much maybe I'm not cut out for home-ed?

I know myself, I know how I work best - I need to be able to get out of the house a couple of times a week to do OTHER things and be a bit more planned. I need people to bounce ideas off, to whinge at when I've had a tough day, to encourage me to see the best in my wonderful busy funny serious little children. I don't want to be lonely! :(

We're going to have to give the home-ed activities a go again, even though I feel really worried about only having tinies.

PS - I think I might be pregnant. It's too early to test, but I just have a feeling - and so far my feelings on things like this have been pretty reliable. I'm terrified in case I'm right and lose the baby - or can't cope. And I'm terrified in case I'm wrong because I am not ready to give up on having more children yet.

And what we did after church on Sunday...

We cleared the living room and moved the furniture around. I have to post pictures because otherwise when Kim arrives in a couple of weeks she won't believe how clean and tidy it was (will you hun?).

My bookcase, the TV area, Jenna's table and doll house (in new position).


The newly re-organised toy storage, and the comfort corner (behind the sofa).


Scary huh? Very organised for us (and much more space for children to run around in). I have to admit that it actually doesn't look much like the pictures at this PRECISE moment, because Jenna has a couple of dressing up things out and is colouring in with crayons all over the place. And Morgan is putting stones in the till and taking them out again, with a bowl of raisins overturned next to her!

Weekend wedding

Some pictures from the wedding day of some friends of ours, Kelly and Tom. It was a lovely day, Kelly looked radiant, I cried at least once remembering my own wedding day, and the children did brilliantly with waiting around and everyone doing grown up stuff.



I was very impressed with how child-friendly they had managed to make everything, especially since there were only three children there! It was good not to have to fuss over them, relax, and enjoy being a family and celebrating with our friends.



The girls had a place setting each, which delighted them, and were served the same food as us. Jenna shocked the waitresses by eating three (raw) salmon canapes and asking for more (very politely). And as you can see, Morgan decided that eating the bread roll would be so much better hands-free.

Season table changing again

This is what the season table looks like now, slowly moving to late summer. All of the craft we've been doing and the seasonal walks have produced enough stuff that it's time for a bit of a change around.



The bees were really simple - just alder cones collected on the park the other day, with yellow string wound around them to make stripes. The wings were cut in a boomerang shape (out of the biodegradable plastic bags we got some spinach in from our vegetable box scheme), laid on the body facing backwards (yup, their wings do face backwards, something else I learnt reading All Year Round) and tied with a long string that is also handy for hanging them by. Not a project for very young children, but fun for me!

We're so busy with lots of new fun projects, and I'm finding so much time to write randomness, I keep wanting to post two or more fresh pages of entries every day. Yesterday, for example, we had friends over and walked on the park (where we found the alder cones) and today we are going to a wedding. I'm going to try to write a bit less for a couple of days and just post up some pictures...

Free Play and Freedom to Play

Some pictures of Jenna and Morgan on our corner park with a friend. I'm changing the dates on these posts so that you can see the pictures of our weekend in order, just in case anyone is confused that I didn't post anything to the blog for three days and now it looks like I did after all!

Running up the hill - they were rolling down it but no pictures of that because we discovered that my TYPICAL preschooler was wearing no pants (rather undignified I have to say).



Jenna and friend in the bushes, holding handfulls of bindweed.



And digging holes with sticks in the dirt...



And lastly, making nests with cut grass - I used to do this on the top field at school when I was little!



How many of these activities are normally banned as dirty or unsafe? Where did the freedom to run around and get dirty go? We need to do more of this kind of play. :)

Crafty couple of days (lots of pictures)!

Yesterday with the house quiet I started looking for craft projects - it's a character flaw, freedom to do jobs just makes me want to find other things to do instead! SO I did some sewing inspired by friends on IVillage, made some lovely crafty baby gifts which I can't tell you anything about because the person I made them for might be reading ;) and then (oops) went on the Green Parent forum and found yet more ideas. These are the projects that I will admit to - a dress for Morgan, almost finished now just needs a zip putting in at the back, and a drawstring canvas bag for building blocks!



So today, we have done magic painting - drawing a picture with felt tips and then colouring in with water.



And made some clay votive candle holders (I wanted to make some jar ones with glass paints, but alas I'm out of glass paints!) so this was what we did instead.



Morgan is even wearing one of our earlier projects - a t-shirt that Jenna painted for her. I drew around some cookie cutters with fabric pens (thanks for those Sam!) and Jenna painted them bright dylon colours using different fabric paints (and some extra special silver fabric paint). :)

Validating, a validation

I have just witnessed the incredible power of validating words on a little boy beyond furious and lashing out in tremendous pain. I can't share details, but I am blown away by what can happen when you make someone feel truly heard.

It didn't take away the reasons for his anger and pain. Those are beyond my abilities, and I suspect beyond the control of those whose job it is to parent him. It didn't fix how he felt, because his feelings were real (so real) to him and no clever reasoning can take that away. It didn't fix his behaviour, because it will take a lot more listening from more important people than me to connect with this hurting soul again and make him want to change.

My heart is breaking for that family and all the problems they still have to face. But I'll never be in doubt again as to the rightness of listening to other people and trying to let them know that someone sees their hurts and anxieties. That little boy has never articulated his feelings to anyone, never had anyone who wasn't afraid of his feelings and had the time to let him let them out safely. But today, he did. I am touched to the core that I was able to give him that gift.

There are a bunch of greedy juvenile blackbirds destroying the seed cakes Jenna made and put out for them - the mother nested in our hedge and we waited until they fledged to give it a spring trim. I can't believe how noisy they are! I feel like laughing and crying at the same time. For the good and the bad, the pain and the joy, the connection and the solitude.

Morgan and the Other Side

So I'm having a bit of a trying time with nursing Morgan right now - or more accurately on and off for the past few weeks. Disclaimer: I'm really glad to still be nursing her, it is non-optional on my list of things I want for my toddler and although I'm not someone who really enjoys breastfeeding (nice lovey hormonal feelings sometimes, but normally, nah) I don't actually want to wean her.

I just don't have the first idea how to have basic boundaries with someone as persistant as this child!! By this age Jenna was practically weaning herself, and although I'm happy that Morgan is still feeding a couple of times a day, sometimes it isn't just a couple of times a day. She's driving me crazy; I sit down, and here she is, wanting to nurse, trying to help herself, and best of all, refusing the side I offer in favour of "EEE unk" (the OTHER milk). Why??

Then a couple of days ago I found this comic in Hathor's archives, and smiled.



Toddler nursing is wonderful, funny, frustrating, crazy, unpredictable, touching, important, fabulous, connecting, grounding, and sometimes really irritating. Anyone want to tell me how to persuade her to take the side she's given and not want to camp out the second I give my attention to the computer?

Off to help the girls sort out their dispute, before Morgan thumps Jenna (who is trying to put a pair of pants on her against her wishes).

Today there is peace!

So isn't it about time I actually did an update instead of a meander? Not that I don't enjoy the meanderings too, but I think sometimes the normal everyday and simple gets left behind a little while I get carried away theorising.

We didn't get to soft play today, yet another day when we're totally out of money for anything - though it's entirely my fault. I ordered a new feeder for the chickens because theirs has a huge hole in the top and the food gets soggy. I got a new board game (how could I resist) - it's called Carcassone and Jenna can just manage it although it's meant for the 10+ age range. I love it! And as we worked out quite quickly it isn't at all hard to play co-operatively, whilst when the children are in bed the grownups can fall out over who captured which city and how unfair it is since it was built with the other person's tiles. ;)

So instead another day in the garden; bewailing the loss of almost all of the purple sprouting broccoli but delighted to see the tomatoes flowering. And we have watched Wallace and Gromit (the recent one) for about the tenth time this month, and admired the giant pumpins and marrows in the vegetable show, which we fear we will never match in a million years!

More building, with the tree blocks, on the carpet. Some writing (mostly me, and Jenna a little bit) and all in all a lot of a little, all of it good. In part I can't take the credit for the calm, because Jenna is sleepy after a late night trip to the cinema with Martin and my Dad (another reason why the money has run out at this stage in the week!) which was a total surprise for her and a major "just because" treat. :)


Here's me and Morgan messing about with the old stretchy wrap yesterday evening - and nope, it isn't comfy any more since she got so big *sigh*. I love love love this sling...

Limitations of Non-Violent Communication

So, some more thoughts about Non Violent Communication. Firstly, I'm still finding it helpful to get me to stop of think about what I'm about to say (which was basically the purpose of Naomi Aldort's SALVE formula, see this blog entry) but with the bonus of having a more practical format to think about and some guidance on what my wording is really saying that I don't mean and don't want!

However, there is a real issue I've noticed. NVC isn't parenting (good or otherwise) it's just language. There still has to be a decision about what needs to be done, and a decision about what boundaries are stated as law and which as personal feeling. And what happens next when the values we have decided are important to our family are not lived up to.

Let me explain it this way. You start with the talk about observation and feelings. "I can hear shouting, I'm feeling stressed." Then what needs to happen to sort out that problem. "I need talking voices only, I want to understand what you are saying to me." Now what if the child says, "No, I don't want to talk, I feel MAD!" And keeps on shouting. I haven't actually parented, I've just expressed what I want. Not that expressing what I want without screaming "SHUT UP!!" isn't good, it's very good, but it isn't the end of the picture.

Try this one on for size. Observation and feelings again. "I see your shoes still on the floor, and I'm feeling impatient and cross." Needs and request. "I want to leave the house soon, so you need to put your shoes on."

(I know, I know, the book would have me saying, "I need for us to leave on time. Will you please put your shoes on?" But apart from that being pretty contrary to my view that there are things that just have to happen however everyone feels about them... I'm not going to pretend that the shoes are going on to make me happy, they're going on becuase as much as playing with the doll is distracting her right now she will be gutted if we miss swimming! I could teach her a lesson by just letting her mess about and miss her activity, but in my eyes that would be a punishment - because I could easily prevent it by just insisting about time-keeping.)

Pretend I've said it either way, if it makes you happy. Now the shoes don't go on and she's still singing to the doll. I've stated my feeling and nothing happens. So either I can be TCS and carry her to swimming with her doll and without shoes. I can do the "natural consequences" thing and make her miss swimming by refusing to parent her. I can insist that the shoes go on now, without using pretty words or making myself the reason for doing it. Or I can put her shoes on for her. (The answer around here is the last two points in that order and probably in quick succession.)

Another thought that has just occured to me is that if I follow to the letter the way NVC suggests requesting what we want, it is another parenting tool that makes compliance about how the parent feels. I don't want her to obey because something makes me happy or sad, but because it is right. I also have a sneaky feeling that talking about my feelings all the time is manipulative and coercive even whilst I'm supposedly not forcing her to do what I want. So... NVC = helpful, but don't neglect what comes after the calm reasoned words.

Say, remind, make it happen!

How Not to Talk to Children (courtesy of Sunday morning)

Sunday School Leader (SSL for short) is running our family service at Church this week. Family Service is really great most of the time, but sometimes seems a bit like a lovely opportunity to herd all the tinies up to the front and make them tell everyone what they've been learning about (with loud prompting and an adult repeating everything they say "to translate"). Clarification: this isn't a jibe at my Church, just at the way one or two of the grown-ups seem to think about the youngest members. There are that sort of adult everywhere, believe me.

SSL: What kinds of animals went on the Ark? (Clue, no she didn't mean "clean and unclean," she wanted the answer, "pets, farm animals, and wild animals".)
Kids: Elephants! Tigers! Dogs! Snakes!
SSL: No, what TYPES?
(answer is eventually gotten out of them by a combination of sharp correction of their "wrong" answers, wild guesses from the kids, and adult prompting of the, "F FFfff? Fffar Far..?" type)
Jenna (loudly): And horses!!
SSL: And what type of animal is a horse?
Jenna: A big round one? (ripple of laughter from adults, despairing look from SSL)
SSL: No, it's a farm animal. What other kinds of farm animals do we know?
Jenna: (giving up) A zebra?
SSL: NO, like sheep. And cows. Look, here's a picture of a cow. Don't touch the picture, it's going to fall over.

Anyhow, this was followed by another reminder of the huge vote of No Confidence we place in our little ones by following them around all the time, treating their fears and feelings as stupid, and generally not letting them own their own bodies. A little girl was helping to hand out some little strips of paper with promises from the Bible on them, when her mum appeared looking annoyed. She saw her child dithering about whether to approach us or not, scary looking strangers smiling at her, and said: "What are you doing? You're meant to GIVE them OUT, can't you even do a simple job like that? Come here, I'll do it."

What's worse is that I use these examples from my weekend knowing well that I say things like that ALL THE TIME and I really have to stop!

Anyway, we decided to walk home because the sun was shining and I hate hassling people for a lift even though it's well over an hour's walk. Along the way tried not to hurry, and it made a huge difference. We said that Jenna couldn't go to see the ducks before realising that we were slipping into anti-child gear again and took the route past the river anyway. Watching her run around all over the river gardens turned into the highlight of our weekend. Finally we helped her to float a fallen pink blossom down the river under the bridge, watching until it went out of sight (with her shouting, "goodbye flower, I'll miss you!").