Notes From A "Bad Mom"

I should preface this blog by saying not only am I a bad mom, I'm really a horrible mom. Really. I've seen you other moms and how perfect you are and how great you parent. Clearly I'm failing. It started before Andrew was even born...

I had caffeine during my pregnancies. Both of them.

I signed my epidural form at 28 weeks. Yeah. An epidural. I didn't have a "natural" birth. I was clearly out to get my kids before they were even born.

I had a hospital birth. And enjoyed it. And asked to stay an extra day. Golly. Clearly I should have been at home, cooking and cleaning.

I let them take Andrew into the nursery so I could sleep. I know. Moms are supposed to be martyrs, right? My concern for accidentally hurting my kid while I was totally sleep-deprived and wanting to go home well-rested to take good care of him was clearly way off base.

I only breastfed Andrew for 4 months. I know, I know. I should have a toddler hanging off my boobs, but hey, I wasn't making enough milk. So instead of starving my kid, I made the horrible decision to give him formula.

Let's see...oh yeah. The second pregnancy. Where the horrible mom stuff started. Where did it all begin?

I asked for a C-section. That's right. Asked for one. Because twin pregnancies get complicated. Babies die. And sometimes when you've pushed the first one out, the second one gets hung up and you need a c-section anyway. But ya know, my body knows best, right? I should TRUST MYSELF. So there ya go. I failed not only my kids, but myself in asking for a c-section. Of course, if anybody wants to talk to me about details of pushing out a baby who's been dead for 10 days, let me know...I'd be glad to share it with you. Even though I am rotten for having asked for a c-section.

We turned both of our kids around in their car seats at a year old. My fear of my kids choking while eating something in the car and not being able to see them outweighs the paranoia of the parents who keep their 14 year olds in a backwards-facing five-point harness, thankyouverymuch. And if you really think I'm crazy, there was a really interesting study done about the actual safety of car seats  vs. seat belts for children over the age of 2.

Both of my kids had peanut butter before they were a year old. And strawberries. And dairy. And pretty much everything allergy-inducing. And guess what? My kids don't have food allergies. Oddly enough, experts are starting to tell people to stop with the food delays, for fear that that is part of what is causing the allergies.

We use disposable diapers. We're killing the planet. As would the extra water, electricity and detergent that would go into the additional loads of laundry I'd be doing using cloth diapers. 

I travel away from my kids. Several times a year. It seems that parents who love each other and enjoy each other's company do a better job of staying together when they have time alone away from their kids, so there ya go. Wanting to put my marriage before my kids a few times a year contributed to that horrible mommy thing.

I could go on for days. I really could. I get it. I read your FB posts, the mommy blogs....all of it. I read between the lines. I realize you are such a better mother because of your "natural" birth, or your breastfeeding your kid till he's 9, or putting yours in a bubble til they turn 18. Good for you. But guess what? My kids are healthy, they are well-behaved, and they are smart as they can be--not to mention loved beyond belief.

Clearly, aside from all of the horrible things I've done, they are slowly but surely turning out okay. Why? Because in spite of the insinuations otherwise from all of you perfect mothers out there, I AM A GOOD MOM. No, I didn't have a homebirth for an uber-risky twin pregnancy where I ended up losing one with the best medical care possible. No, I'm not breastfeeding my 3 1/2 year old. No, I don't put earplugs on my kids when they go to watch fireworks. But in spite of all of that, my kids are turning out okay.

So please. Spare me the lectures. Stop with the guilt trips. Stop the insinuations. We all want healthy, happy kids. In the end, if that's what we end up with, how can any of us really be bad parents?

Something Supernatural

I have only shared this with a handful of people. It was a very private, personal experience that left me traumatized--especially once everything had turned full circle. However, I feel a deep desire and peace about sharing it at this time.

When I was 16 weeks pregnant with the twins, I fell into a very deep sleep during a nap. While sleeping, I had a very vivid (and later, poignant) dream that turned into my worst nightmare. In my dream, the twins had gotten into trouble, and the doctors decided that they needed to take them immediately. I was crying out to them that I was only 16 weeks pregnant, there was no way they would survive, but the doctors insisted that it was too dangerous for them to remain inside my womb.

Against my anguish that they wouldn't survive being born at 16 weeks, they were born via c-section. We had only recently found out that we were having a boy and a girl, and had already chosen their names--Wesley and Zenith. In this dream, Wesley didn't live long after being born. Jay and I were horrified at losing him, and both of us were in complete disbelief. At the same time, we were overjoyed, because Zenith (even though I consciously knew that, at 16 weeks, she would never survive) was crying lustily, and was pink, fat and healthy.

Approximately 16 weeks later, the unthinkable happened. During a routine NST (non-stress test), we found out that we had lost our little boy, Wesley. Ten days later, Zenith was born at 34 weeks, and came out screaming, clearly upset about being removed from her comfortable home. Nearly two years later, she is still healthy, unbelievably happy and such a joy! While we lost her brother, and will never get over the pain of that loss, God has blessed us immeasurably by allowing us to keep her with us on this earth, getting to know her sweet little face, and watching her grow and learn--trying to keep up with her big brother Andrew, whom she loves fiercely (and we're pretty sure he likes her too).

I don't know if this dream was a warning, or meant to give me comfort. At any rate, while the pain of being told stings to this day, I wasn't totally shocked when I found out that we had lost little Wesley.  Throughout the pregnancy, I had a strange feeling that I was waiting for bad news--more so than any expectant mother would. Yet, I also felt a comforting but odd peace that, no matter what happened, Zenith would be okay.

Raised Pentecostal, I was brought up to expect supernatural events to occur, and taught that spiritually supernatural things happen all the time. Having never experienced anything like that in my lifetime, over time, I became a skeptic. This event changed that skepticism. I am grateful for the preparation of what was to come, and the strength to go forward and focus on the positive of a healthy, happy little girl instead of getting caught up on and dwelling on the horrific events that happened to our family two years ago. My faith has been shaken, but not destroyed. I have questions, I have anger, and I have sadness.

More than anything, I have hope.