To the doctor at my daughter’s traumatic birth

An open letter to:

Dr.**********,

(Writer’s note: I have starred out the doctor’s name for legal reasons)

Even writing your name sends chills down my spine and takes me back to the darkest moment of my entire life. There’s been many nights that I have laid awake in bed, wondering what I would say to you if ever given the opprotunity. You see, I had the opprotunity once and missed it entirely. I was sitting in the hallway waiting on bloodwork for my pregnacy with my third child. You walked by, chatting and laughing with your co-worker. You glanced over at me, without a care in the world, and never parted your lips to speak. I froze. You probably don’t even remember me. Afterall, I’m just a medical ID number to you.

Your life has continued and mine has been in constant turmoil since the moment I first met you. You are able to chat and laugh with co-workers while my days are spent advocating for my child and praying we make it through another day. I wonder often if you sleep at night. I am not the only patient that has expressed sub par standards from you. I think about these sorts of things while I’m awake listening to the blood curdling screams from my child who never sees any peace. I’ve looked up your number before to call during a sleep deprived hopeless moment. I wanted to put it on speaker phone and let you endure a moment of what my husband and I deal with on a daily basis. It was by the grace of God that I never found your contact information.

One of the biggest things I disagree with in the way your practice is ran is that you spend nine entire months building a relationship with your obstetrician and then on delivery day it’s like playing a game of Russian Roulette. You may luck out and get who you’ve been with but the chances are very slim. It’s like putting your own life and your child’s life in the hands of a stranger.

The day I went into labor, I had never met you before and I had never heard of a birth going wrong. I was so young and naive. The badge on your coat comforted me and I felt at ease with an overwhelming trust in you. The doctor before you was at the end of his shift and he was going to send me home to labor some more but you made the decision to admit me. I remember wanting to hug you tightly and thank you for getting the show on the road.

The next thing I noticed was how uninvolved you actually were and how the nurses did everything. I remember being confused about that but even my nineteen year old brain understood I wasn’t your only patient. After many hours without you, I became concerned with the looks on the nurses faces as well as my own family. I was tired and exhausted. I didn’t have the strength to fight, I just wanted the pain to be over. The nurse buzzed for another nurse to wake you and you finally eased your way into my room. You hardly spoke to me. You were cold and harsh and seemed to be bothered that we were requesting your presence.

You see Dr.***********, there’s more to being a doctor than knowing anatomy and medical terminology. There’s more than knowing the motions to go through and the steps to take. Compassion and empathy goes a long way. I felt neither from you. Even the words you wrote in my file were harsh and abrasive. I have since read those words and they are forever etched in my soul.

I have seen, within my own cirlce of friends and family, my primary obstetrician go above and beyond to comfort mothers following trauma. I have witnessed him coming in on his day off to check on their wellbeing. He’s there. He answers questions, spends time with the family, travels the dark roads with them. You never even darkened my door after the moment you delivered my child. You sent a nurse practitioner to follow up with me. I wonder sometimes had you been there, had you answered my concerns, at that moment, would I still be suffering from the invisible wounds so many years later.

My daughter’s eighth birth day is coming up next weekend. It should be a happy time filled with celebration. I have a hard time even faking excitement over it. I have flashbacks from those helpless moments and I go back to that helpless moment. I go back to the moment and I see your face. I see your stern, cold, face. You have stolen my joy. I know that I need to forgive you. I struggle with it daily. I want to move on, I want to get passed it, but I’m angry. I’m hurt.

My hope and purpose for this letter, even if it doesn’t reach you, is that other health care workers will look at patients with new eyes. They will realize that though birth is only one day out of your life, it can stick with the mother for many years to come. Be careful how you talk to people and be even more careful that you actually TALK to people. Help them get the closure and resources that they need so that they don’t suffer in silence. Let them know that you are there to give them what they need. Things happen, trauma happens, life happens, and those things are hard enough without not having answers.

Sincerely,

Lauren – A birth trauma momma (2008)

 

My career in Motherhood

As a little girl I remember dreaming of what my future would look like. I remember doing a lot of pretend play and my days consisted of playing with dolls and pretending to be a teacher.

When I meditated on who my role model was usually my Nanny came to mind. A stay at home mother of 6 children.

As I grew I actually barely remember playing with anything else other than barbies and littlest pet shop. I loved babies. I loved animals. Most of all, I loved being a caretaker. Both of those are things that cannot survive without a caretaker. Someone to love them, stand up for them, make sure they’re fed, make sure they are nurtured. I wanted to be that person doing the nurturing.

So, it only seemed natural to me to have a career in motherhood. A career? A career? That’s not a career! (Society says) I’ve had many unintentional hurtful comments throughout the past 8 years that I’ve let roll off my back because I know I’m where I want to be but even more importantly, I know I’m where God wants me to be.

Our world has come so far in feminism. Women are working jobs they never dreamed of and it’s something that should be shouted from the roof tops and celebrated. However, that doesn’t mean that that’s the right path for everyone. Nor, is being a stay at home mother right for everyone.

For a while I thought of myself as lazy or that something was wrong with me because I had no desire to go to college. Education is so important so why didn’t I want to further mine? Maybe one day, but for now I’m learning more valuable lessons than could ever be taught in a classroom.

Some may say I am losing myself in caring for my children but I think of it as finding myself. I never would have known my strength, my tolerance, my patience, my limits, my talents, or my flexibility if it wasn’t for my career in motherhood. Also, something has to be said for reaching your goals. I am homeschooling my children and am running a small scale animal rescue. (I’m a teacher and fulfilling my need for nurturing children and animals)

So, I encourage my fellow professional mothers to let yourself off the hook if you are discrediting your value. Remember, if it weren’t for mothers our congressmen, doctors, lawyers, and all of the prestigious career men and women wouldn’t even be here! 😉

Cheers! Boob or Bottle!

Promote what you love without bashing those who are different than you.
This saying rings true for many things in life. However, I would like to address one of the many mommy wars.

Breastfeeding VS. Bottlefeeding.
Most of you that know me know that I am a passionate advocate of breastfeeding. Throughout my journey of helping mothers (who I happen to run across) nurse their babies I have received the same comment numerous times: “Thank you for not shaming formula feeders.” I didn’t give it much thought the first few times it was said to me until I began to notice the trend. Let’s think this through… if more than one mother is saying this than there must be a problem. Whether or not a “nipple nazi” (as they are commonly referred to in the mother community) has made a direct statement that made you feel this way something is causing these unpleasant feelings.
We ALL know that BREAST is BEST. It’s very easy to brag about how far we’ve come and how more and more mothers are succeeding with support and resources nationwide that are being put into place. I am tickled at every success story I hear. However, we don’t need it continuously smacked in our faces. It’s how the human body was meticulously designed. It’s beautiful, it’s natural, it’s breathtaking, and it’s motherhood. That does not mean that other things are not motherhood as well.
Four mothers keep coming to mind as I am writing this. A NICU mom who had to make the decision while dealing with the trauma of having a sick baby, a mother with fertility issues, a mother who has suffered greatly over her struggle of not succeeding with breastfeeding, and my own mother who has PCOS and I’m pretty sure that I’m tongue tied. I have seen the pain in their eyes and the anguish on their faces when they admit that breastfeeding didn’t work for them. I’ve seen their self esteem take a major hit whenever they hear of success stories. I’ve seen tears, I’ve seen regrets. Could these mothers have done something different to acquire different results? Possibly. As most of us know there are only an extremely small percentage of women who actually CAN’T breastfeed. Do these mothers know this? You better believe it. So, why make them feel like crap over something that cannot be changed? We all know that the hands of time cannot be turned back. Can we use their experiences to help other mothers who are about to walk their roads? Absolutely! That’s the beauty of it! For every negative experience you have there is someone who can greatly benefit from hearing your story. The Bible says there is nothing new under the sun. (Ecclesiastes 1:9 History merely repeats itself. It has all been done. Nothing under the sun is truly new.) Other mothers have already been through the exact same thing and there are future mothers who will too.
I’ve spent a good amount of time with each of these mothers I’ve mentioned.

They aren’t the only four but they are the face of millions of other mothers with the same feelings. What I have seen is four mothers who have went above and beyond to make up the moments that the professionals say that they missed by not breastfeeding their babies. They baby wear to promote bonding, they homeschool, they attachment parent, they present parent; they do whatever they must to establish a lasting connection with their child. When they feed their baby a bottle, it’s not propped as society says, they stare lovingly into their babies eyes with the same look that I give my own children. This is not the only thing these four women have in common. Along with the emotions I’ve seen them express firsthand about their inability to (continue) breastfeeding. I have even more powerfully seen their undying love for their child(ren).
I wish as mothers we could remember that this is not the end. It is just the beginning. This part of motherhood is just a season. It doesn’t make or break you or your baby. Are breastfed babies healthier throughout their lives? Science says so. Are there other things that God has given us to boost the immune system? I like to think of whole foods, natural remedies, and essential oils as back up plans. Did our ALL KNOWING Creator know that it wouldn’t work for everyone? I believe it with every breath in my body.
I’d like to encourage other passionate breast feeders (and all mothers for that matter) to never miss an opportunity to tell any mother that they encounter that, “YOU ARE A GOOD MOM!” I know I will personally take my own challenge. It pains me every time (which is often actually) that I see a mother discretely pull her bottle out of her diaper bag and hide in a corner to give it to her baby amongst breastfeeding mothers. Feed your baby! As the old saying goes, “the only bad mother doesn’t feed her baby at all!” If as a society we spent half the time encouraging and uplifting each other rather than tearing down and criticizing one another, then we would see much less hurt. God knew what he was doing when he matched each child with their mother, you are the best mother for your baby. This is not a (mommy) war to be had. This is a journey to be walked, together.

A mother’s love: A formula feeding mom.

A mother’s love: A breast feeding mom.

So, there you have it from a successful breastfeeding mother. To those reading this who don’t know me, I am not a bitter unsuccessful breastfeeder. As you can read in my other blogs I am a mother of four who is currently tandem nursing her 2.5year old and 14 month old. I’m fortunate in the fact that breastfeeding happened to come easy to me. I say this because I don’t want you to think I have ill intentions in writing this. I just have a huge heart for all mothers no matter how they nourish their babies. #rockonformulafeeders #keeponkeepingonbreastfeeders! But most of all, love those sweet babies because the moments go by so fast. Don’t blink.

Out with the Old in with the New

As I look down at my youngest son pulling on the bottom of my skirt many emotions hit me simultaneously. Half of me can literally feel my heart swell with love and pride of the child I have been blessed with and the other half of me aches with the reality that time is moving at warp speed and slowing it down is completely out of your control. Those first few months go by and a baby changes a zillion times during them. Teeth are erupting where the gummy grins once sat, that little infant who couldn’t do anything is now standing  on his own, and the little one who needed only me has gotten to where he wants his daddy to put him to sleep at night. I sat down the other day to hold him and his little body wiggled until I put him down and off he went to catch up with his siblings. I should be jumping with joy at the break but I just can’t get there, at least not yet.

First time catching Charlie standing on his own on camera!

While I sit and ponder this I come to realize that the struggle of letting go of “chapters” in my life doesn’t at all come new to me. I remember this feeling all too well throughout different stages in my life. I feel like there has always been a part of me stuck in the past, straddling the fence, with one toe hanging on and the others itching to move into the future.

My earliest memory of this is letting go of my childhood lovey, “Casey.” It was so hard stopping the habit of thumb sucking and carrying my well loved friend. It made me sad to think of leaving “her” behind and essentially, growing up. Changing chapters.

Then I grew and quickly became attached to more “big girl” things. I played with my barbies and they all had names, personalities, and histories. Once again, boxing them up and growing up came with a struggle. The same feelings came each year when I moved up in school and had to leave my teachers behind. Break ups with boyfriends, the end of friendships, even moving houses early in our marriage, the list goes on and on.

These feelings hit me much harder in regards to my children. I am eager to watch them grow, mold their lives into the people they will become, and develop gifts and dreams. However, part of me wants to find a way to freeze time and keep them this age forever. I know without a doubt in my mind that I will love them in child form, teenage form, and adult form… there’s just something special about those gummy grins and dirty faces.

Maybe, in part, it’s my own insecurities coming out. I mean, in my opinion, I’ve got the baby thing down pat. I know how to show unconditional love to someone who depends almost solely on me but will those feelings be the same when they don’t “need” me as much? What if I’m not as good at that? No one in their right mind would want to mess their kids up! Even I am comforted in knowing that God has gotten me through this chapter and He will hold me in His arms and be my backbone through the next chapters, I can’t help but feel nervous about not knowing what’s to come. I heard it said once that “bad mothers don’t worry about whether or not they are good mothers.” I guess it’s not supposed to be easy, I mean, I put my entire heart and soul into what I do, it’s hard to imagine things any other way than how they are now. I guess all I can do is continue to do just that and savor every second with my sweet little current aged babies. Hopefully, one day they will look back fondly and know they have always had a mother that gave her all.

4 little Coleman’s June ’14

Life gave me lemons. Now, lets make some lemonade.

Something that has recently hit me like a ton of bricks is my relationship with my daughter. I feel like the past six years are all a blur. My daughter’s birth changed me in so many ways. I have had many positive outcomes but it seems like some scars never heal completely.

The only way that I can put into words what my experience has been like is to compare it to being in “survival mode.” I know and believe with all my heart that The Lord does not give us more than we can handle (1 Corinthians 10:13) but I would be lying if I said that I’ve never questioned if He has the right person! It seems He has a lot more confidence in me than I have in myself. Kaylee came into my life when, honestly, I was a child myself. Of course, had anyone told me that back then I would have argued that I was very much an adult! Boy! Was I in for a surprise.

When someone is placed in a situation such as this they truly only have two options. They can either wallow in their sorrow and cry, “why me?” or they can grow up and do what you have to do. Luckily, by the grace of God, I grew up. I learned all I could about things that I had no control over, I obsessed over anything and everything that I could do to help my baby. I spent many sleepless nights trying to figure out answers to problems that had no solutions.

Along with having a special needs child comes a lot of things that one may not realize. I was thrown into a whirlwind of doctors, lawyers, therapists, insurance companies, along with many other things. This is where “survival mode” comes into play. I had to learn the ropes of all of this, I had to keep up with things I never dreamed of keeping up with, I had to learn the hard way. It is so easy when you are in the midst of this to lose sight of what really matters and by this I mean my daughter, as a person. I feel like I’ve been forced to strictly go through the motions and in turn I have lost sight of this precious little life I was blessed with. I have missed a large chunk of her childhood. I’ve been here the entire time but she did not have the mentally present mother that she very much deserves.
I know now that some of this can be attributed to depression. Depression is a vicious thing. It actually changes your thought process and can alter your entire life. I didn’t know enough about depression and post-partum depression until recently, so I didn’t recognize that it had control of my life for quite some time. I am confident that it went undiagnosed for several years. Also, I have learned that statistics show women who suffer birth trauma are extremely likely to develop post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). It used to only be recognized in war veterans but now professionals see that other things can cause it.

Looking back, I am positive that I could have done things differently and made better choices in certain areas. However, I cannot continue to dwell in my regrets and carry the weight of blame on my shoulders. I have to let it go. I have to. When I entertain the thoughts of what I could have done differently in that delivery room they have absolutely no benefit to anything. Unfortunately, we cannot go back and change things.

Another weight that I carry that I’m not sure if I will ever shake off is my grudge against the doctor that delivered Kaylee. I want nothing more than to move on and forgive but it has been a huge struggle. I know when we don’t forgive that the only person suffering is ourselves. I am positive the doctor has not lost nearly as much sleep as me. The anger I feel has absolutely no benefit, it makes me bitter, it makes me a person that I do not want to be.

If you are a follower of my blog and you want to know how to help me that is what I ask of you. Pray. Pray that I can overcome the bondage of resentment for this woman and the blame I place on myself. Pray I move on. Pray I focus on the blessings. I am confident that even though I could have done better, I did the best that I could with the knowledge and tools I was equipped with. It’s utterly jaw dropping to think that Kaylee could have easily not survived her birth but you know what, she did. God wasn’t done with our girl. That needs to be appreciated. That needs to be made known! Our daughter is a gift!

I do feel like I have a lot of catching up to do and as always a lot more learning. I am getting to know my daughter for the first time ever and I couldn’t be more excited. She is truly amazing with such a zest for life and love of God and all of his children. It’s overwhelming to think of the lessons that Kaylee has taught our family. It has been a challenge to look past the diagnosis(es) and see the amazing human being God trusted ME with. I vow to slow down and appreciate the miracle that has been in front of me this entire time.

Magical Mommy Moments

There are so many things that have been made clear to me during our technology detox(https://thecolemanwreckingcrew.wordpress.com/2014/01/06/our-detox-from-technology-2014/), one of which is the connection with my children. There are several new things we have implemented in our house and I will go into more detail later on. Some are simple things like making sure to hug each child every single day and at least giving them each one compliment about their character, others have taken more effort like our family Bible study and prayer time every night (Satan LOVES to try to interfere with that). We are super excited about the changes and love seeing the work of The Almighty One in our home daily.

 

As you can imagine in a house of four children it is a constant worry of mine that they are all getting their individual needs met. I think it is important to recognize that all children are individuals and may require different parenting techniques. My husband and I have noticed that Riley needs more intentional effort from us to affirm our love. Though he’s a very considerate and caring child he is also very anxious and worries a lot.
After evaluating some things together as a family we realized that Riley and dad spend a lot of time together hunting, fishing, and doing plain ole’ guy stuff but it’s harder for him and I to relate. I’ve always been more of a “girly” type so it’s quite ironic that I would be blessed with 3 sons! So, after much discussion we felt like some improvement in our relationship was in order. Riley and I have started praying about this, together, and I can definitely already see wonderful changes happening.
This is why the “Magical Mommy Moments” jar was developed. I spent some time researching “attachment therapy” activities to do with him. They each only take about 5 minutes to do and are simple and fun. Some examples are: thumb wrestling, cuddle time, back rub, and playing shadow. It was important that each involve touch, be feasible (even on super busy nights), and enjoyable to both of us. Each night and sometimes as a treat after school, Riley gets to pick an activity out of the jar for us to do together. I have also made it a point to not use the jar as a consequence (ie: even when he’s in “trouble” he still get’s “mommy time” because afterall, that’s probably when he needs it the most.)

We have been consistently doing the jar activities for about 3 weeks now and it has worked beautifully! He is so excited to just have even 5 minutes of me to himself. I can see already that the dialogue between us has gotten more frequent and I feel more connected to him than I ever have. It started as a simple experiment but I am so impressed with how beneficial it has been. If anyone wants more information, like my reasoning behind the individual activities just let me know, I feel like it would help just about any child that needs a little extra love.

I’m sure I will have a lot of things that I wish I would have done more of when it’s all said and done but I have vowed to make an honest effort to limit those regrets. I have never to this day heard a seasoned mother say that she wishes she would have spent less time with her children. The days are moving too fast and the minutes are feeling like seconds. I want to savor every minute that I can and never make my children question their mother’s love. I found this poem I would like to share as it seems fitting to the theme of this blog, enjoy!
“If I had my children to raise all over again,
I’d finger paint more and point my finger less.
I’d do less correcting and more connecting.
I’d take my eyes off my watch and watch with my eyes.
I would care to know less and know to care more.
I’d take more hikes and fly more kites.
I’d stop playing serious and seriously play.
I’d run through more fields and gaze at more stars.
I’d do more hugging and less tugging.
I would be firm less often and affirm much more.
I’d build self esteem more and the house later.
I’d teach less about the love of power and more about the power of love.”
-Diane Loomans