Playpen

Much to my chagrin, I ordered a playpen for Kinnie. Several important people urged that I do so, in order to keep her safe once she is mobile, which will be very soon. It arrived last night. It is 3 feet by 3 feet, with a padded bottom, and mesh sides about 3 feet high. It is brightly colored, with fun animals printed on the "floor" and sides.

My Papa reminds me frequently of a family trip to Newport Beach, California, when I was maybe one or two years old. He teases me that I nearly ruined the trip because, while on the beach in playpen, I screamed and screamed. I tease him back that I was screaming because I was jailed in my pen, and wanted to be free to play.

It is with humor that I tell Papa I was jailed. But, last night, the playpen for Kinnie arrived while I was at the grocery store. When I left home, Kinnie was on the floor, playing with her Daddy. When I got home, she was in the pen.

I was surprised that I felt a strong reaction to seeing Kinnie this way. My instinct was to get her out and let her roam. I'll admit, it made me feel like crying. And, I'm still sitting here thinking, what is this all about?

Two possible explanations come to mind. One is that I never want Kinnie to feel limited by me. I want her to know that the world is at her fingertips, so to speak (or, in this case, write). I hope that she will explore all her potential with excitement. I realize, also, that it is my job to keep her safe as she does the exploring. Thus, the need for the pen. But it pushes against my general philosophy.

The other explanation could be that she is growing. Not that that, in itself, is a bad thing. I wonder if, as my baby changes into a little girl, there is a part of me that is sad to let go of the teeny tiny being who relied on me for everything.

Well, back to the psychotherapist I go... Every day is an adventure, with lessons to be learned. I am still more grateful that I could have ever imagined.

PS
My baby give me kisses. She opens her mouth wide, and puts it on my face. Sometimes they're more like moose kisses. It cracks her up, and warms my heart. If I'm having a hard day, I imagine getting a kiss and all my worries melt away.

Fathers

Here I am, early in the morning, thinking again...

At work, I currently have 7 families with whom I am working. Of the 7, NONE have a biological father who is consistently involved. One has a step-father who has stepped in and attempted to fill that space. Two have never met their dads. One dad is incarcerated. Others seem to pop in and out of the lives of their kids at their discretion. ALL of the kids have legal involvement. They ALL struggle in school, and many are using drugs. ALL of the kids have always been with their moms.

I don't want to appear to be blaming fathers. I know that some of the Moms may make it extremely difficult to be a part of the kids' lives. But, ultimately, does that matter? Shouldn't it be that nothing can stand in the way of being there for your kids? Is there anything more important? Even if the courts are involved and say these dads can only see their kids on the weekends, shouldn't the dads be showing up at 6 am Saturday to fill that time?I think it is likely not coincidence that these kids all have these commonalities- their fathers are MIA, and they are acting out.

In my relationship with my dad, there have been bumps in the road. There have been times when we were less close, communicating infrequently. I know the emptiness that leaves, the void in the heart, the yearning for something better. And, I don't know that anyone could have stepped in and made that feel better. I suppose, after some time, those feelings diminish, but it seems that they would always be there. I know I'm lucky to not have to know.

Brian is the light of Kinnie's life. Even at 7 months old, there is a special bond. Probably mostly because Brian does anything and everything to make her smile. If she hears his voice, even a cough from another room, she'll stop whatever she's doing to look for him- even interrupting a meal, which is a big deal for this little girl.

I know there are special circumstances, things that happen beyond people's control. I don't want to appear judgmental. I just don't understand being absent from a kid's life. You make a baby (whether you meant to or not), and from the moment you know, there should be nothing more important.

To hear

It seems to be my pattern these days to lie awake in bed in the early morning hours and think. Kinnie is down the hall from our room, and we don't use a monitor. Even so, I generally hear, and awaken for, the slightest peep.

I was thinking this morning about the day Kinnie was born. I was lying on the operating table with some knowledge that behind a curtain hiding my belly, something amazing was happening. The anesthesiologist helped me lift my head so I could see Kinnie as the doctors pulled her from my abdomen. I then had to lie down and wait as the incision was sutured.

I think my ability to hear changed in that moment. I couldn't see what was happening, as Kinnie had been taken somewhere in the half of the room to which my view was blocked. I remember lying there, listening for reassurance that she was okay. Not only was I listening for her little cries, but also to the nurses who were tending to her, to the voices of my mom and husband who were by her side, to insure that there was no worry in the words they said. There I was, with (forgive me) a gaping hole in my abdomen, being stitched up, and I was totally focused on the sounds surrounding my baby.

This morning I was lying in bed, listening to assure that Kinnie was still sleeping soundly. It is amazing how a mother's senses are heightened and changed by the need and desire to protect her children. I had a vague understanding about that instinct, but no idea how powerful it is.

In unrelated news, we have adopted another 4 legged baby. We went to Dumb Friends League last weekend, and picked a few dogs about which we wanted to inquire. When I sat down with the adoption counselor, he informed me that each of the pups we had picked were either aggressive or unfriendly with children. I explained our loss of Fifi, and that we just wanted someone easy going to be a friend to Koda. The counselor suggested we meet a dog named Charlie.

Charlie is fat. And a mutt. I have no idea what he is made of. The DDFL said he is 5 years old, but I think he is closer to 7, based on the way his teeth are worn. He should be about 40 pounds (right now he's more like 50), black on top and tan and white on his face and underside. He has a long tail that curves slightly upward, which is black with a white tip. His ears are floppy, and came with an infection. But, he loves Kinnie. And us. And Koda. Koda is not sure that she loves him yet, but she will. The fact that she tolerates him is a big deal for her. She can be a bit of a cranky old lady.

He has been a good boy, with the exception of one incident involving the diaper pail. And it was funny, the sense I had, as we were going to sleep the first night he was with us- that our house is full again, complete. We miss Fifi, and knowing there's another friend with us warms everything up.

Parenting styles

I had this experience while lying in bed early this morning that has me thinking...

Koda is our 8 year old heeler mix. She is our 4-legged baby, and, until Kinnie came along, the center of my universe. Since the birth of my 2-legged baby, I have worked hard to include Koda, and to reassure her that she is still one of the most important things in my life.

Koda sleeps in our bed. We adopted her when she was a year and a half. She started out sleeping gated in the kitchen. Then, she got a dog bed in our room. Then, she made her way into our bed. I'm not sure how it happened, and I don't mind one bit. There's nothing better than waking in the early morning hours and feeling a warm, soft pup curled up next to you.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Koda feels it is necessary to wake me. While still lying by my side, she'll tap me with her paw. If I don't respond, she'll do it again. Usually, when she does it, I pet her for a minute or two, and she and I readjust our positions and go back to sleep. Sometimes, this requires me to move because she decides she wants to lie on top of me.

So, this morning, at about 6, I felt a tap. Koda had crawled up next to me, between Brian and me. She rolled on her side, and I scratched her belly. Apparently, she decided to also paw at Brian- which she usually does not do. I watched him, with his eyes still closed, lift his hand and point to the foot of the bed. Koda got up, moved, lay down on my legs, and went back to sleep.

It was a minor event, routine even. But it made me wonder what it means for how we will parent our 2-legged baby. It seems I go out of my way to comfort- some might say I'm a push-over. And, it seem Brian has some boundaries around his sleep and whether it is to be disturbed. I smile as I wonder...

Some kind of validation

I was having a discussion with my mom the other day about Kinnie's first several months. She said to me that Kinnie's early infancy was one of the most difficult she had seen. This, coming from a woman who worked in pediatrics for about a quarter-century. It validated a strong sense I had that my baby, early on, was not easy. I, of course, did not know what to expect, and didn't know what bad or good could be. She would cry for hours some days, for no known reason. When you're going through that, it's not as if someone is going to say, "jeez, your baby is difficult." Because, then you'd be offended. But now, looking back, I'm glad it was evident to someone else. I looked for the good in every day with Kinnie in those first three months. And, sometimes, it was hard not to be overwhelmed by all the worry and sadness that she was so often upset. I can still conjure up some of the anxiety I felt if I think about it for long.

The good news is that we got through it. Kinnie is an absolute delight. She rarely complains now, except when she is tired or hungry. And those are things I can help to fix. I felt so helpless when she would wail and we had tried everything we could to comfort her. I often wonder what it was all about. I've questioned whether the experiences I had as a pregnant woman in a foreign country affected her- primarily the stress. Or, maybe it was the caffeine that I couldn't quite give up. Or, the 35-hour car ride from Guadalajara to Denver 2 weeks before she was born. It's interesting, because I am so often to be the first to speak up and protect women from being blamed or feeling guilt. It's not that I blame myself, but mostly just my curiosity about what happens in the months directly before and after birth.

Kinnie sits up pretty well, and her spitting up has almost vanished. Hallelujah. I think I can soon have my carpets cleaned. And, she doesn't go through several bibs or outfits every day. I hope that it also means that she is more comfortable. In the past few days, she has figured out where her primary food source lives. If she's hungry, she'll stare directly at my chest while voicing her complaints. Sometimes, she even grabs my shirt. I plan to nurse until she's about a year old. We'll see what she learns between now and then as far as finding her way to her meals.

The two bottom, center teeth have now broken through Kinnie's gums. Another hallelujah. She was miserable for a while. They are just tiny nubs at the moment, barely poking through. But, I think getting them through the gums was the most difficult part. In the past 3 days, she's been a whole new baby. I am so glad she's not hurting anymore. At least until the next ones come in.

I continue to be grateful everyday, and amazed at this process called parenthood. I love it, and am pretty sure it is what I was meant to do with my life- even though I've only been at it for seven months.

Warmth in my heart

I just walked up to Kinnie's room to get my phone, which had fallen from my pocket. I had put her down to bed a few minutes before, and she was still awake. She was quietly looking at the art on her walls, her hands resting on her chest. There is something about the innocence in these moments. I know she is peaceful, taking in the world around her. And there is so much she has yet to learn, to discover. It is a beautiful thing.

We traveled to St. Louis this past weekend so that Kinnie could meet her Great-Grandparents on the McNeill side. Granddad's health has declined in the past few years, and we want to take advantage of every opportunity to see him. And, the chance for Granddad and Grandy to meet Kinnie was priceless.

The travel itself was exhausting. Never again will I take a 6 month old on a two night trip. Unless someone else is paying for it (again). Kinnie was a champ overall, but by the end of day one, was a wreck due to being overtired and overstimulated. There may be some teeth on their way in, too. When we got to the hotel that night, much later than she would usually go to bed, Kinnie cried for over an hour. The next day was better, as we allowed a lot of time for napping. And then the next day, we headed home.

Despite the challenges, I would do the trip all over again. We have some invaluable pictures of Kinnie with her greats. More importantly, I imagine that for them, meeting a member of the next generation of their family means the world. To be able to bring smiles to Grandy and Granddad's faces was worth it all. They are incredible people. Granddad, who has difficulty with movement, reached out to Kinnie several times, once to grab her foot. And though he has some trouble with speech, when we were saying goodbye, he grabbed my hand and Brian's, and thanked us for coming.

Four years ago, Brian and I seriously considered trying to get pregnant. We felt that the chance for our child to meet our grandparents would be worth the interruption in our life paths at the time. Ultimately, we decided not to pursue having a baby at then. I am so grateful that the way it worked out, with the surprise of Kinnie, still allowed for these most important people in our lives to know her, and for her to know them.

Catching up

I was thinking about giving up on this blog. I'm not doing well in keeping up with it. But, then, when I get the urge to write, I sure am glad it's here.

Kinnie is six months old now. Every month, around the 30th, I end up having a very sentimental day or two, when I think about how fast time is going. To be honest, the rest of the time, I am just grateful for every day, and for all the new adventures. It is so exciting to see all the changes.

I was watching an interview on TV the other day, with a woman who had experienced multiple miscarriages. She said, "I know I'm meant to be a mom." I realized that I didn't know that until the minute Kinnie was born. From 1:18 pm on June 30th, 2010, for the rest of my life, I know what my purpose is. I have never felt more passionate, more sure of what brings meaning to my life.

Kinnie had her first Christmas, and the holiday season also brought her first road trip. She did very well. And what road trip with an infant is complete without a poop blow-out in the car? We visited her grandparents, aunt and uncle, and cousins. She loved all the attention.

Kinnie has begun eating cereal every day. She likes it, I think. Last night, there was barley cereal on the table, all over the high chair, on the floor, in her hair... There's no way to control where it flies. She tends to put a finger or thumb in her mouth immediately after taking a bite, which ensures a mess.

I have had two naps with Kinnie in the last month. My Papa will likely scold me for allowing this to happen. In both cases, we were playing on the bed, and fell asleep. You see, Kinnie is not a baby who likes to be held constantly. In order to sleep, she has always been put in her crib. So, technically, the first time we napped together, I couldn't sleep because it tickled me so that she had fallen to sleep right next to me.

She laughs every day. She's trying to sit up, and is very nearly doing so independently. She has rolled over a few times. She puts everything in her mouth. She loves to eat. The words "bonk" and "boing" crack her up. Perhaps her favorite thing is a ride in her snuggli. She is a joy, pure delight, and wonderful.