worry – Soundly Sarah

Milestones & Genetics, Motherhood, Respectful Parenting, The magic (in the mess). ♡

She’s got this.

01/21/2021 No Comments

A milestone happened in our house on Tuesday night. M rolled over for the first time! ⁣
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All babies eventually turn over, and milestones are meaningful for every single one of them. I get that. This moment holds something more to me, though.⁣
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O has had gross and fine motor delays for much of his life, starting from when he was very young. PT and OT have been a part of his journey (and mine — there have been many, many, many appointments). On paper, he’s still quite a bit “behind” for his age based on what other kids of a similar age can “typically” do. In time, he’ll get there.⁣
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I have long felt mom guilt over his delays, however. Many a time I have wondered if my well intentioned parenting choices caused them. We didn’t really do tummy time as I didn’t believe in pushing him to be in positions he couldn’t get into himself. I let him be the lead, and I continue to do so to this day. Eventually, we found out he had low muscle tone, and that it was likely the culprit.⁣
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But, despite knowing that, my anxiety doesn’t let me hear it.⁣
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I don’t want that same journey for M. I don’t want those same struggles. So, I keep doing with her all that I hardly did with O… as if in some kind of hail mary attempt to avoid it. But, as hard as I try (and try do I ever), her tolerance for it is achingly minimal. Many a day she makes it happily on her tummy for less minutes that I can count on one hand.⁣
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This, of course, has lead my worries to be convinced we are again on the same trajectory.⁣
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And then on Tuesday she just rolled over out of the blue, as if it was the world telling me to calm the hell down.⁣
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I hear you, world. I hear you.⁣
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She’s got this.⁣
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Happy five months, sweet girl. 💚⁣ ⁣

[Featured], Mental Health, Motherhood, Postpartum, The magic (in the mess). ♡

I promise.

01/12/2021 No Comments

Dear me,⁣
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I’m sitting here on our phone looking back at pictures you took. It’s January, 2016. You have just recently become a mom for the first time, and are six weeks postpartum.⁣
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The majority of the pictures are of the babe your body created. You aren’t in many, and in those that you are, there is a purposeful effort on your behalf for the photo’s focus to be on anything else but you.⁣
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But, I look to you anyways. Your face. Your hair. Your eyes. The layers that tell a story. Faint smiles, tangled curls in sloppy buns, dark circles and sleepy squints, a breast milk stained cardigan on it’s sixth day of wear. The story of a woman trying. Trying and tired, trying and unsure, trying and afraid.⁣
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Ah, all that what would come in those months ahead. The countless hours of colic, the incredibly little, little sleep, the exasperation at the useless futility of everything you tried, the heart pounding anxiety at anything “gone wrong” that would envelope you in a bundle of trauma. The culmination of it all breaking you. Chasms laid wide, intrusive thoughts hungrily consuming the darkness now bare. An unspoken guilt that consumed you, perpetuating and furthering the cycle. Rinse, repeat, remorse and regret.⁣
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It will be okay, I whisper to you. Gently placing my finger on your shoulder on the screen, as if it could be a hug that transcends time and instils in you the hope you didn’t have. You WILL overcome. The colic goes away, eventually. He sleeps, eventually. You get help from doctors, finally. It starts to work. The pieces come together. You find what he needs. You find what you need. Together, you thrive.⁣
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You’re even crazy enough in five years to do it all over again, mental health reckonings and all. But, we figure it out that time sooner. ⁣She actually sleeps. She’s happier. She’s easier.⁣
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Right now, though.⁣
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It feels like you can’t breath.⁣
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I know. I hear you.⁣
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But, you will.⁣
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We will.⁣
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I promise.

Motherhood, Postpartum, The magic (in the mess). ♡

Lost without you.

08/25/2020 No Comments

I am guilty of not publicly saying this or feeling this enough. But, I am incredibly thankful for my husband.

The past seven days have been some of the most trying in our lives (there are a *lot* more details, some unfortunate and messy, to M’s birth story/first few days of her life — ones I didn’t elaborate on in the positive bits I wrote for the announcement/Instagram).

Saying that it’s just been hard would be grossly inadequate at doing justice to the difficulties of those seven days, and what’s to come of them.

Through all of it, however, D has been a bastion of rock solid support, continually going above and beyond, and working tirelessly to hold all of us together. I would have been absolutely lost without him.

Thank you, hunny. 💚⁣ ⁣

Motherhood

It may surprise you.

03/16/2020 No Comments

I was at Walmart the other day, and walking behind a couple who were loudly referring to people who were hoarding (due to the current circumstances) as idiots and a bunch of not so nice, other names. #peopleofwalmart, I know.

I get that the hoarding of food is making this exponentially harder than it needs to be for some people, especially vulnerable people, and that it’s shitty. I am dreading going grocery shopping next for our weekly run, and I don’t even have specific, hard to find needs. For some, it’s going to be frightful.

What I also get, however, is that the act of stocking up on food, toilet paper, etc., it lets those who need it to feel power, and control. Not many are able to find that among the current news cycle right now, or at ALL, and that can be frightening. For some, the one thing that brings them feelings of comfort and security among times like these, is buying, and buying lots, and being absolutely sure that they have enough. And the visible act of being able to see a pantry loaded to the gills with food when it kind of feels like the whole world is shutting down outside? I absolutely get how that could be a calming answer to many worries. Especially if you’re a mom, like I am.

Selfish? Perhaps, but I struggle with throwing that around as a blanket statement. In some cases that have come to be publicized, it likely applies. But, in others, I think there’s more to it than we realize.

We all deal in our own ways. We may not always agree with it, but among the chaos that is now, try employing empathy to see the why instead of exasperation at seeing the what. It may surprise you.

Mental Health, Motherhood

Do not want.

02/19/2020 No Comments

I’ve said this and I’ll say it again, I did not expect the mind fuck of parenting that is worrying about your kid(s).

It’s like this gigantic, all encompassing, slightly obnoxious layer to add to the stress vortext that is life.

You can have this part of the job back, Parenting, my brain hurts

Mental Health, Motherhood

The words.

07/22/2019 No Comments

I’m unexpectedly revisiting an old journal of thoughts that I opened as I couldn’t remember it’s purpose.

These are the words of postpartum anxiety and postpartum depression.

Attempting to get philosophical about how much I’ve grown or healed since these days is a bit too wax-poetic for the raw pain of what this experience was and sometimes continues to be for me.

But, I can now say, and truly believe, that my kid loves me. 💚⁣ ⁣

Milestones & Genetics, Motherhood

Different by a lot.

02/18/2018 No Comments

Raising a child with a significant gross motor delay is different than a raising a child who develops typically. At times, it’s different by a lot.

For instance, what did we do this weekend? We finally reached the point we needed to lower O’s crib from the newborn position as he’s gotten pretty good at coming to a stand (hurray!). His mobile finally had to come down, too. He turned 2 at the end of November.

I want to reach out and bring O to play dates and such, but he just can’t do a lot of stuff other kids his age can. And a trip to the park for him? It looks *dramatically* different than a trip for a typical developing child of his age.

At times, it’s isolating. I want moms to bond with over our kids shared triumphs. But for so much of the big stuff that’s happening to him right now? The mom’s with kids his age went though it a year and a half ago. It’s old news.

Every day in every way I’m celebrating him. He amazes me. But, I’m also worrying, wanting and aching for him. I don’t know if he knows if he is different or not (how can he not when all the children around him at childcare walk?). In a few years I don’t know if that difference will still be there or not.

But right now, I just want him to be happy. To find his people. To fit in. And it feels like the cards are stacked a bit too much against him at such an early age. I hate that I can’t change that. I realize some of this is my worried mom perception, yes. But it’s the part of it that’s not that keeps me awake at night.

Milestones & Genetics, Motherhood, Respectful Parenting

He is who he is, and I am who I am.

02/08/2017 No Comments

Since the day he was born, I have parented O based on two principles: respect and trust. They are small words, but they are profound words. Words that in times of uncertainty and unease, have helped lead the way… and in times of strength and joy, words that have been enthusiastically celebrated.

Respecting and trusting a two month old, a six month old, a fourteen month old, a whatever month old — it looks a lot like this. It is fundamentally different than the ways many babies and toddlers are raised, yes, but it is beautiful. I haven’t been perfect about it (when it came to getting O to sleep, I /had/ to let some of it go), but it’s meant so much to me to try and be with it’s premises as much as I could.

This means that I didn’t do tummy time with O until he was able to discover it on his own. I honoured his timeline, and I had the mantra of “in-time”, NOT “on-time”, on repeat in my head. This wasn’t the Olympics, and he’d eventually find where he needed to be. Heck, come the start of kindergarten, he’d be running around and causing a ruckus just like every other kid there. There felt no need to rush it.

It slowly became apparent that O would be taking the long way around as a means to development of his gross motor skills, however. At six months he rolled into his tummy. At seven months he rolled onto his back. He is still a bit funny about doing both, however. At 12 months he mastered sitting on his own (yes, you read that right). And just today, at 14 months, I witnessed him get from his tummy to a sitting position for the first time ever. I was so, so, SO happy to be there to witness it, surgery bruises and all.

Now, and because you’re probably wondering, he has yet to crawl (though he does some fierce, exploratory circles on his tummy), yet to stand and yet to walk. And you know what? It’s taken me a long time to say this, despite how deep my intentions were in respect and trust, but it’s gonna be okay. It really, truly is.

As anxiety is wont to do, there have been times aplenty that I have struggled. Did I cause his delay? Should I have pushed him anyways? Is it my fault he currently has the gross motor capabilities of a 6-9 month old? Should I have listened to the naysayers who told me differently? Have I been stubborn and foolhardy for my gain alone? Insert doubt after doubt after doubt.

Do you know how hard is to to watch a kid half your child’s age do things that they cannot? Or the heart wrench at yearning for their freedom and independence of movement as they howl in frustration for the umpteenth about not being able to reach something just outside their grasp? The wanting of so much more for them, and for them to be like all the other toddlers in that last play date you attended, but knowing you are powerless. Insert worry after worry after worry.

But you know what?

I listened to him. I honoured his choices. I let him guide the way. I did what was in my heart. I was lead by a gentle, slow and patient love that believed tremendously in respecting and trusting him. And as he now gets extra, special help from various specialists so that he can learn more, I continue to do all of those things everyday and always. This is no ones fault. It is simply how the cards laid.

He is who he is, and I am who I am. And at the end of the day, week, month and year, we’re gonna be okay.

Mental Health, Motherhood

The bough.

12/23/2016 No Comments

I’ve been quiet on here for a bit, hey? I haven’t forgotten about Soundly Sarah, however. Rather, I’ve chosen to be purposefully quiet. While I have had many, MANY things I have wanted to write, a large part of me couldn’t consciously put any of it to paper until I addressed something that took place not long after I last posted here. Addressing that something has been an extremely private, long, arduous, six month journey for me, however, and I have returned here now as I am finally ready to write it out and begin again in this space that I have so missed.

On a Friday morning near the end of July, I had a breakdown. It was a full on, anxiety ridden, nerve stricken, tears and screams, I’m losing my mind, I can’t breathe, I can’t think, why am I shaking?! breakdown. It was very real, very scary, and with D’s help, immediate medical attention was sought for me to understand what the hell was going on.

But to make clear to you what I eventually learned about myself, I first need to give a bit of back story.

Many of you are already aware, but for those who are not, the first hundred days of O’s life were a nightmare. He would not, could not, be put down. At all. He slept nowhere but on us (no matter how many times or how hard we tried to change that). If he was awake, he had to be moving or breastfeeding 95% of the time or he was livid. It was all this and so so so so so much more. A part of me has chosen to purposefully forget some of it because I just have to. His colicky, angry and needy demands drained from me every ounce of energy, every ounce of sanity, and my every ounce of EVERYTHING, joy included. The posts I put on FB from during this period were mostly a façade of the few good moments he did have. All the other moments that didn’t make it on FB were the REAL ones, and by god did those real ones hurt.

But after those first hundred days, we found a bit of reprieve. We found a little bit of peace. I was able to find some happiness once again. I started to feel a bit more human. I bit more myself. A bit more like I could do this motherhood thing and that we would survive.

Near the end of July, however, O began a vicious cycle of teething. At the time I didn’t know it, however, as you tend to not know a lot of stuff during that first rodeo until you get slapped in the face with it, and boy – did it ever. The reprieve we had been experiencing? It was shattered to the ground, stomped on, set on fire and proceeded to have its ashes obliterated into one million pieces. Well, that is exactly what was happening in my head at least. Because, unlike freaking out like a normal person and hoping for the best, I began to have a series of PTSD like flashbacks that quickly worsened.

Imagine holding your child as they are screaming at you, unable to find comfort or calm. You are sitting in a rocking chair in their dark room, trying your best to help their exhausted, pained body. But rather be there and be present, your mind is waging war on you. Your mind is telling you that you are going back to those first one hundred days and you are never leaving it. Your mind is telling you this is it from now on. Your mind is telling you that there will never be better. Your mind is SCREAMING at you, as you struggle to breathe amidst a rapid tightening of chest, that this is going to be FOREVER. There is no escape, there is no way out, you’ve gone back and you will never return.

And then imagine telling no one for days and days that this is happening to you continually and soon constantly because you are ashamed, unsure, embarrassed and deathly afraid.

On that Friday morning, the bough finally broke. Like a river it all flowed out, unstoppably and rapidly, and the shell I had been frantically trying to encase it all in soon gave way.

With the help of BC Women’s reproductive mental health unit, psychiatrists, counselors and medicine, I soon came to learn of a thing I had never heard of before. Postpartum anxiety. I knew of postpartum depression, but anxiety? That was a new one. Additionally, I came to learn of the concept known as intrusive thoughts. They were the thoughts that were giving way to the PTSD like flashbacks and they were the thoughts I soon set out to try and understand, come to peace with and, if I was lucky, banish for good.

However, the weird thing about getting help for mental illness – which anxiety falls under – is that it breeds other things. Admitting it can be a chain reaction, and a revelation of so much can be equally clarifying AND unhinging. It brings you up the depth to which you’ve denied, it forces you to acknowledge that which you have refused to do, and it leaves you raw. It leaves you weak. It leaves you to realize just how deep, multifaceted and pervasive our minds can be, and how much they will refuse to let go and morph anew no matter the amount you shake.

Six months later, I still wouldn’t call myself healed, but I’m trying. There has definitely been some harder moments, and they’ve absolutely effected how I deal with the outside world (I apologize to those who might have read this who I KNOW have gotten the receiving end of some of that), but I’m trying. Intrusive thoughts are still a daily struggle of mine, though they have decreased in intensity and occurrence. But I am making my way back. Always.

Most importantly, and this has taken me a LONG time to say, I finally know now and can say with confidence that this doesn’t make me a bad mom. This doesn’t mean that I don’t deserve O. An inability to cope doesn’t make me abnormal. It makes me human. Admitting it here, on a public blog, can in fact be empowering. It can be healing in itself. And while this has been a damn hard journey to wellness, I am determined to get that shell of mine back. That is a belief that I refuse to let go of. And to those of you who are willing to join me for this journey, thank you. I appreciate you more than you know.

Mental Health, Milestones & Genetics, Motherhood

How can we ever really know?

04/19/2016 No Comments

O was born with a couple of things that make him different than the typical baby boy. Some of these things will require surgery in a years time and one is something that cannot be seen by the human eye.

This unseen part about him is chromosomal. To be more specific, he has a large deletion in his 3rd chromosome. This deletion may be the reason for some of the other, differing, things about him — or it may not be. It’s hard to say. All that is known right now is the unknown, as his deletion is considered rare to the geneticists at BC Children’s and it hasn’t been seen enough to know what it could imply health wise, now or later, if anything at all.

In an attempt to understand how this came to be, be it from D and I or how our DNA combined, blood work was done on us. As of a few days ago, I now know that I too have this large deletion in my 3rd chromosome and that I passed it on to O in the womb.

I’m writing this here, in this space, because I need to better understand what this means to me. I need to voice it, to put it in text, to make sense of it. Selfishly, I need to be told it will be okay (even if the irrational side of me disagrees), again and again, on top of how many times I’ve already been told as much. I’m in the midst of scheduling a follow up with the geneticists to be told the same. Everyone is hinging on the fact that I seem to be okay, same with my other family members who may or may not have it, and so O should be okay too.

But how can we ever really know that? Am I okay? What about later on? Have I missed something my entire life? Was there something I should have questioned but never did? Is my son going to suffer because I didn’t? These are huge, unknowable, worrisome questions — I know. But how does one continue on as normal when they find out that something is missing in the base of their DNA? In the base of what makes them human? And that they’ve passed it on to their son, with repercussions entirely unknown?

Nothing I can do can change this, I get that, and I know that I need to be positive. I have to be. Not just for me, but for O and D. But how?

Mental Health, Motherhood, Postpartum

What even IS baby sleep?

02/11/2016 No Comments

Since he was three weeks old, O has slept in our arms for 99% of his naps and sleeps at night (he is now almost eleven weeks). He is typically tummy down as he leans against our bodies (while we lean back). It started originally as he began to absolutely LOSE it when we put him down in our bedside co-sleeper bassinet. This and a variety of other symptoms lead our pediatrician to believe he has reflux, which with the help of medicine and changing how we do things, has helped make him a much happier baby.

He will now tolerate periods of back/tummy play and being in his swing (we went through a five week period where we couldn’t put him down PERIOD without him loosing it). But getting him to sleep on somewhere that is not our bodies is something we’re having a lot of trouble managing.

I understand this is typical of a lot of newborns and there are very valid reasons why he wants to sleep on us. I just keep envisioning this still happening at 8+ months because it forms a pattern of behaviour, and that makes me kind of want to loose it. We are continually having to find new ways for him to sleep on us while we we try to rest but not really rest and it’s exhausting, no matter how much we break it up into shifts. I miss lying down and have legitimately forgotten how to sleep that way. My hips also kind of want to kill me for all the sitting down I have to do with him.

For those of you who have been able to get a baby past this phase, how did you do it? Here is what we’ve been doing or have tried thus far:

He is mostly nursed to sleep (has been since birth, he loves it and nothing puts him out faster). If I don’t do it for him, he freaks. If he could nurse all night, he would. My nipples disagree.
He will not take a pacifier (I have tried ten million times). I am his pacifier.
Elevating his bassinet, using white noise, making it smell like me, positioning him with towels to be on his side and warming it have all been tried.
He LOVES to move his arms and legs. Some of it is his Moro reflex, some of it is it’s just what he loves to do. He pretty much looks like he’s conducting an orchestra all day long and is never still. You can guess how much this desire of his lets him sleep deeply when laying down somewhere that is not on us.
Swaddles and Swaddle transition blankets/gear DO NOT work. We have had a rare occasion where they have, but it is not reliable. Anything that restricts his hands or legs pisses him off for hours at end and defeats their purpose. We legit tried them for weeks and weeks — it was horrible.
Carriers equally piss him off and while he will fall asleep in one while we take long walks, that’s not solving this problem.
I tried co-sleeping with him leaning against me and by me. He either kept waking himself up as his flailing/movements kept hitting me or he couldn’t last longer than five minutes, no matter how milk drunk I got him or where I put him. I am unable to nurse him easily while laying down, and him doing it on his own to get back to sleep is not possible.
He has slept in his swing, but it’s very sporadic and getting it to happen regularly is something we can’t seem to master, no matter how much advice we follow from baby sleep blogs.
Putting him to sleep on his own his tummy freaks me out. Please don’t suggest it. I understand babies sleep deeper on their tummies and that’s part of why he does when he’s on us, but he’s WITH us while doing so.

This too shall pass.

I know.

But, for now, HELP PLZ.