Bed transition - update

This is for those of you who are interested, as well as for my own attempts to keep track of what we're doing that works and what doesn't work. Our first night of transitioning Ben to a big boy bed was a bit of a long night. I slept pretty good the first part of the night, until about 1am. That was when I heard the boys' bedroom door open. In my half-sleep disorientation, I jumped out of bed and ran through our living room and down the hall, hoping to get to Ben before he stumbled into something in the dark. And, luckily, in the process I didn't stumble into anything myself! He had barely closed the door behind him when I scooped him up and took him back to his bed. He was being really talkative, which was making it really difficult to get him settled down. I had been hopeful that it'd only take me 10 minutes before he'd be fast asleep and I could go back to the comfort of my own bed. Not so lucky.

I made five attempts to leave his room, when I thought he was asleep enough not to notice, and before I could get to the door, he was awake and making his way to the door with me. On that fifth attempt I had to use the bathroom so bad and was so tired and uncomfortable from laying down next to him in awkward positions, that I left him and hoped he'd just stay put. I was really surprised to come out and see that I'd been in there for two hours. That was when I decided to ask Marc to take a turn with him.

I tossed and turned the rest of the night, waiting for Marc to come back, but he ended up falling asleep with Ben until morning. I guess being non-pregnant made a difference in the comfort level.

Thursday night we repeated the bedtime routine from the night before and we both laid down with Ben expecting it to just be a 10-minute process. But, since he'd had a three hour nap that afternoon he wasn't nearly as exhausted. After 10 minutes Marc had to get back to a work project, so I stayed with Ben until he fell asleep. An hour and a half later I emerged from his room, admittedly a bit annoyed and impatient that it took him so long to fall asleep. But, that night he slept through the night and didn't come out until 6am when he woke up.

Friday night I let Marc have a turn laying down with him, which ended up taking about an hour. But we were both starting to feel like it was becoming a bit of a game and making Ben more distracted and dependent on us being there than we wanted him to be. So, we decided it was time to switch things up a little for our routine tonight.

7:00-ish - baths are done, scriptures are read, prayers are said, and snuggle time begins.

7:17pm - We say good night and leave the room.

Between 7:24 and 8:26pm - Ben comes out 25 times and Marc patiently and stoically takes him back to bed. There were about a dozen other moments when he opened the door and shut it again on his own without coming all the way out. By around 8pm he was getting a little fussy, a sure sign that tiredness was starting to hit.

9:00pm - After a half hour of complete silence I went in to put him in his bed, because I was fairly sure that he'd fallen asleep right by the door. In the process of carefully pushing the door open, he woke up and became really frantic when we tried to continue what we'd been doing of laying him down and leaving the room.

So, I caved and laid down with him. As soon as he realized I was laying down with him he wiped his tears and leaned in to kiss me and then cuddled his face right up against mine. I hummed a calming lullaby and within ten minutes his breathing was heavy enough that I thought I was safe to leave. Before I could get to the door he was up and running towards me, totally in a panic.

So, I went back and laid down with him again. I kissed him on the forehead and whispered, "go night night, baby." He then very sweetly brought both arms up and around my neck and pulled me close and would not let go. So, I stayed and cuddled him back to sleep. Again, when I tried to leave, he woke up just as I got to his door. So, the next time, I put his sock monkey in one arm and laid his Elmo next to his other arm. And, rather than laying down, I just sat next to him. It was obvious that he was exhausted by how quickly he was falling asleep. It was just that his radar of being left alone was on a high alert.

9:45pm - On my third attempt to come out, he woke up again, so Marc took a turn going in with him.

10:25pm - Marc emerges without Ben waking up. Success! Well, kind of, I guess.

I'm not really sure what this means for our night tonight, if he'll be so zonked out that he'll sleep through the night like he has been or if our efforts were more traumatizing than we intended and he'll wake up in a panic at some point. And, at this point, I'm really not sure what our plan will be for tomorrow night. But, somehow, someway, we'll all make it through this transition successfully. Hopefully sooner than later.

Transitions

Nap time around here has it's usual routine that goes almost exactly the same every single day. We put the boys in their cribs, sing a calming song, tell them it's time to sleep, and close the door behind us. Then Marc and I sit in the quiet living room and talk briefly about our plans for the rest of the day while we listen to the boys in the background giggling and babbling and laughing some more. There are times when we can't help but laugh just at the sound of their squeals of delight, and wish so much we could sneak a peek of what exactly is going on in there. Eventually they settle down and fall asleep, but sometimes that can take up to an hour.

Well, this past Thursday I was enjoying listening to their joyful noises and wondering at what point I should go in to remind them it was time to sleep, when all of a sudden I hear a frantic scream from Ben that clearly required an urgent response. I rushed into their dark room to see the shadow of Ben's body hanging from the front of the crib, so I flipped the light on to see that he was hanging upside down on the outside of the crib, his legs wrapped in and around the crib slats with his ankles interlocked around the top bar, and his hands gripping the slats near the bottom, hanging on for dear life.

I'm still not sure if he purposely wrapped his feet the way he did to keep himself from falling or if that was done by accident. Either way it scared me good, while at the same time kind of made me want to laugh in disbelief. The urge to laugh only increased as I was carefully getting Ben untwisted from the crib slats, when I looked down to my side to see Hugh's concerned expression and realizing that he had climbed out of his crib successfully at some point before this emergency happened. (The sides on Hugh's crib are slightly lower and a bit easier to climb out of, but still came as a shock that he'd attempted and succeeded.)

Okay, so with the next baby on the way we had already been talking and thinking about the next transitions and sleeping arrangements for the boys, but I was clearly expecting to be able to make those decisions calmly and according to our time line rather than being forced into a decision and a situation I wasn't quite ready for.

And, it made me think - "is this something, as a parent, I should just get used to now?" - because I get the feeling that things like growing up and making transitions through stages in life are most likely going to happen much differently and much more chaotically than the way my OCD-perfectionistic-leaning-little-head would like them to go. And, really, I guess that's okay... I just need to prep myself better to expect that to be the case.

So, we spent part of our Saturday afternoon looking at big boy beds and trundle beds and bunk beds and got lots of information, without any final decisions yet. I think eventually we'll probably do the bunk bed thing, but I look at my little Hugh (who just turned 22 months yesterday) and find it so hard to imagine putting my little baby in a big boy bed already, not to mention the idea of putting Ben on the top of a bunk bed at this point. So, bunk beds eventually, but not quite yet! Even as I write this I can't keep my head from shaking in disbelief.

I'm finding these kinds of transitions to be hard to face head on. I kind of want to just pretend like their attempts to escape their cribs was just a fluke thing and they will be fine in their cribs for another few months until I decide they aren't my babies anymore and they're ready to move up, goshdarnit!

But I know I need to let them take the lead and show me when they're ready for change and opportunities to grow. I don't want to limit them or hold them back, even with something as insignificant as a bed. It's my job to provide a safe environment and a soft place to land as they make those changes and start to grow up. I just can't believe there are moments of growing up that seem to happen overnight. And, really, I get the feeling this is nothing compared to what's to come! Heaven, help me!

Life changes and eating an elephant

We spent all day Friday moving into our new home. Fortunately we had lots of strong and able men with big trucks who helped make it just a two-trip move, which was completed within three hours. We had a small group of women who helped me make everything sparkle at the old place, making it look pretty darn fantastic. We also had two doting grandparents who were happy to entertain the boys at their place for the day, so as to shield them a bit from as much of the chaos and confusion that can come with a big change like this.

By the end of our very long Friday and coming home to boxes stacked so high that it felt like we could have opened it up to the public as a cardboard maze and charged a small fee for entrance, I had come to the end of my frazzled rope and declared with more gusto than I knew was in me - "I hate our new place."

I didn't, really.

I was just exhausted. I was telling Marc later that I had never felt more tired than I did by the end of that day... except for maybe the day I labored to bring Hugh into the world. And, I felt even more exhausted just thinking about the task of unpacking everything, while still taking care of my little family. But, I think I was mostly overwhelmed with fears of how I would help my little boys adjust to their new environment when I felt so sapped of all energy and optimism myself.

I had to remind myself of the answer to that silly riddle - How do you eat an elephant?

I'm guessing you probably know the answer.

So, that was exactly what I did. I focused first on the most important priority - getting my boys settled safely and peacefully in their new (shared) bedroom for the night. Then, I tackled the boxes. One at a time. I couldn't look at the entire house filled with boxes. It just made me want to cry, if I did. I had to force myself to focus on the one box in front of me. One at a time.

And, before the end of the night on Friday our cardboard maze was completely unrecognizable and I was slowly seeing our home becoming more recognizable.

We went to bed much too late, which turned out to be a bad idea since Hugh ended up having a really rough night. He was up three times and ended up asleep on my chest twice when I got the feeling his lack of sleep had more to do with not feeling well than anything else. My intuition turned out to be correct when all day Saturday he was fighting a fever.

But, last night went so smoothly. Both boys went down for bed so easily - in bed by 6:30pm - AND they both slept through the night, though 5:30am will probably always feel just a bit too early for me.

Today I found myself thinking of all the things I like about our new home - the sound of the morning doves and other birds singing throughout the day, the park across the street where kids today were out playing baseball with their dads, the random cat wandering the very quiet neighborhood, the secluded feeling of living on the outskirts of town, the view from our kitchen of the hills. I really liked our other place and had felt quite sad about leaving it, until I realized what we were getting in its place.

(Our other place was smack-dab-in-the-middle of downtown, with the near-constant sound of traffic, sirens, airplanes, with the "drug-dealing" park down the street and the random transient wandering our neighborhood. Not to mention our neighbor's raging outdoor parties during the summer that commonly started at midnight and ended about four hours later. Definitely won't miss those.)

We're not completely settled in yet, but we're getting there. And, after a weekend of General Conference, I'm feeling encouraged and renewed. I'm anxious to go back and, in my studies, gather my own list of little personal prophetic epistles, as referred to by Elder Holland. Lots of gems that I want to hang on to and live by. Sometimes it can feel overwhelming to work on areas of weakness and inabilities, but I suppose personal improvements, just like settling from our move, require the same answer to that silly elephant riddle.

Taking just one day at a time. And, that's exactly what I'll do.

Life with Boys

I grew up with five brothers. I felt like I was somewhat prepared for life with boys. I just didn't realize how early some of their boyish instincts would kick in. Benjamin has been testing his climbing limits for a few months now, but he's clearly getting more and more confident (and risky).

And, then there's Hugh. He's always been a bit more cautious than Ben. But, he must be taking careful notes of everything Ben does. I had my back turned for just a few minutes and when I turned to check on my boys, I noticed that look on Hugh's face... like he was looking for trouble. Do you see it, too?

Oh, that mischievous grin!

I didn't happen to capture it on camera because I was panicking a little and had put the camera down... but, at one point Hugh was standing up and hanging onto the bookshelf, like Ben was doing. At ten months, mind you.

Heaven help me!

Oh, and by the way, the reason for the empty bookshelves and the cardboard boxes - we're moving! Just across town and into a larger home for our growing family. Wait, that isn't an announcement of any kind... just meaning that our family has doubled in size since we moved into our current place! (I really should be more careful how I say things around here.) We really like the place we're in right now, but we're also really excited about our new home. Lots of great things to look forward to.

Which, reminds me... anybody have any helpful advice or tips about how to make our move more smooth for our boys? I've been a little worried about how a change like this will affect Ben and Hugh. Oh, and our plan is to move them into the same bedroom with this move, now that they're both on the same sleep schedule. And, I'm not quite sure what to expect with a transition like that.

Any advice?

Some thoughts on being different

My favorite place these days is relaxing on the couch in our front room, surrounded by the soft glow of our Christmas tree. There is a warmth and a calm that comes with it. And since I know our time to enjoy it is temporary, I'm trying to soak it up as much as possible.

I took a quick Sunday afternoon nap in front of it today. Before shutting my eyes, they wandered around the tree to the different ornaments we bought or received last year in memory of our girls. Every ornament has an identical match - there are a couple of sets of crystal angels, a few different sets of birds, the crystal-like "Joy" ornaments, and two silver stars engraved with "Love". I love our tree and I love the love I feel for my little girls when I look at it. And I love dear loved ones who have added their love for our girls to our tree. (That's sure a lot of love!)

It's been interesting to share our news about adopting and being pregnant. As is maybe obvious, we are completely overwhelmed by the news ourselves. We recognize how much we're being blessed beyond belief. Even still among the welcomed joy of these approaching blessings, there is still a place in my heart that aches. As I've interacted with older women who have lost babies decades ago, and I witness how easily the tears flow when they've opened up their hearts to me about their loss, I get the feeling while watching them that the aching will always be there. Of course, until we meet our girls again. Then, maybe then, the holes will be completely healed and my joy will really be full.

I worry a little about some who might expect some dramatic retroactive change in my personality, now that we have these blessings to anticipate. It's true that I haven't been quite the same since losing my girls. Honestly, though, I don't expect to ever be the same person that I was before such a life-changing experience. Those moments in the hospital altered the core of who I am, who I want to be. And, really, isn't that a good thing? So maybe I'm not as happy-go-lucky or however you want to call it... but really I haven't been that way since maybe 8th grade basketball games when I was burning off the Mountain Dew caffeine high. And, that can probably be more classified as immaturity or the results of stimulating substances than anything else.

The truth is that, even while we feel deep joy and gratitude for the blessings that are approaching, there is still a plot at the cemetery that we visit. There are two stockings hanging next to ours that will never be held by the shaky, excited hands of our little girls on Christmas morning. With time we've learned to be okay with this part of our life. We accept the place our girls have in our family, and rejoice that they are eternally a part of us. And while most of those closest to us have accepted us as we are now, I hope that more will accept the ways we've changed because of our girls... rather than expecting us to be back to how we "used to be."  

We're different. And, we're okay with that.

Seasons and Jumping back in

image courtesy of wikimedia.org

The last two days we've woken (or is it awaken? awoken can't be right. awakened?) to overcast skies. It has been feeling more like autumn lately, but especially today. The air smells like rain. I am really loving this change in weather and enjoying the transition from one season to another. It feels like it's been a while since I've really noticed a change in season quite like this.

I know I was around for the last few seasonal changes, but this seems to be the first where I really feel fully present. I don't know quite how to describe it, but there is some part of me that feels like I've been away or asleep or absent from life. I guess that's what happens when death pulls you to want to have one foot in that other (better) world. Overall, that pull has definitely been a huge blessing for my life. It really forces one, in a good way, to keep things in clearer perspective.

But, lately, I've been feeling the urge to jump back into this current existence with both feet again. I get the feeling that's what my girls want for their Mama. It's been a few months' process, kind of like slowly moving from the top step in the shallow end and gradually, very gradually, making my way back down to the deep end. 

I'm much more careful, more cautious, more deliberate in every movement I make. I've been much more earnest in seeking answers and guidance... admittedly probably too earnest, evidenced by the paralyzed fear that comes from my lack of confidence in making even the smallest of decisions. But, I'm re-learning the basics and making even small movement is progress. And, since I'm more attentive this time around, I'm hoping things will seep in a little deeper and have their lasting effect on my mind and on my heart.

As I've been envisioning myself getting back in the water, I'm reminded of a near-tragic experience I once had decades ago jumping off the side of a pool into the deep end, before knowing how to swim. I was jumping in and then quickly grabbing the side of the pool as soon as I reached the surface. Well, on one jump I jumped too far. I panicked when I realized I couldn't reach the side. I don't remember how much I struggled or even who helped me escape the struggle, but I do remember sitting wide-eyed and huddled and shivering (not from cold) in a towel far away from the pool, not wanting to jump back in after that. I was content to watch from a distance. I was scared good.

And, that is actually a pretty good way to describe how it's been after losing our twins. I've been good sitting on the sidelines. I've been okay not rushing back into the deep end. I've needed to catch my breath, and in the process learn a few things about dangers and being prepared for real-life (and death) emergencies. After a good soul-shaking, it's been healthy for me to take a break, find stability on my own two feet again. And, get some serious time in with a coach, fixing some of the major weak areas in my life's foundation.

Now that I've been coached by the best and been reassured again and again that I can trust in Him, I feel more prepared, comfortable even. I don't know what awaits at the deep end this time, but I've been filled with strength and courage that aren't my own. That is a gift. A gift that I'm treasuring with every passing moment, made even more beautiful with this fall season.