Recovery.

It's okay not to be okay, or so the saying goes.

One of my passions during the time I studied for my Masters degree was the physiological effects of trauma on the brain.  It has been so helpful to me over the last year and a half as I've attempted to raise a traumatized teenager here in our home.

Trauma parenting is so different than regular parenting.  Parenting in general is hard and worrisome, but if parenting is like riding a bicycle, then trauma parenting is like trying to ride one backwards on a tightrope.  That may or may not be on fire.

Trauma and attachment issues present themselves in literally every aspect of a child's day, from getting dressed to selecting food to choosing friends and going to school.  Loss, grief and lack of trust govern much of their thought process and behavior.  They are terrified of intimacy, keep people at a distance, hide their feelings, they are prone to prolonged periods of fear, and have a limited ability to trust.  They manipulate and lie.  They take literally ten times longer than children without trauma to learn new skills (even simple ones) and new patterns of behavior. They make the same mistakes over and over (and over and over and over).

Let me be clear, because it cannot be overstated: none of these things are the fault of the child. Only deep love, compassion and the formation of secure attachments can begin to promote new brain growth and impact the biological and emotional development of trust (I am safe), self-worth (I am precious) and self-efficacy (I am heard).

But the parenting process.  It is exhausting.  It is constant.  It is overwhelming.  It is neither natural nor instinctive in many ways.  It is necessary, valuable, and worth doing - but it is all those other things, too.

Parenting is the ultimate exercise in leadership.  When we agreed to take on a child with trauma, we instantly became responsible not only for his physical well being, but also his emotional development and his relational healing.  We had to build connection when we were virtually strangers, identify and heal wounds that we didn't inflict and redeem ground we didn't lose.  We had to quickly become experts on a child whose 14 year history we barely knew so that we could become the agents of healing he needed us to be.  We became versed in neural rerouting and self-regulation and trigger responses, and most of all, we had to have the tools and time and self-reflection to develop and put in place strategies and environments that would promote healing. 

Most of that fell on me, partly because of Casey's travel schedule, but also because it is "in my zone" professionally and personally.  Meanwhile, there were three small children to be cared for and schooled, a home to be run, a pregnancy and life happening abundantly all around us.  Major transitions - whether positive or negative - are always difficult to navigate in the life of a family, and we have had a LOT of them.

And then... sixteen months later... this opportunity came up for him to go home.  He had struggled with the loss of his friends and his life as much as with the loss of his father, and now he had a shot at going back to a place where he felt more "normal."  Where he was more securely attached and hopeful.  He felt that way, and because we love him, we did, too. 

But it was a loss for us too, particularly for the kids who truly opened their hearts with love and compassion in the most amazing ways.  Love, as they say, is a verb, and theirs was so much more than just lip service. 

We feel a little like the team that goes to the Superbowl and loses: proud that we made it this far, gratified by our efforts and teamwork.  As a family, as individuals, we know that we left everything we had out there on the field, but ultimately, it didn't go the way we would have liked.

And now... we have to pick up the pieces.  To stop and recalculate.

It's hard. 

I'm physically and emotionally exhausted after the work and the non-stop stress of the last year and a half, compounded by what we went through in the spring.  The kids are sad, and we all have a little bit of our own PTSD (mild on the spectrum, but real nonetheless) to contend with. 

We are not okay.  And, while I know that we will again be okay, it takes time to get there.

We took September really slowly.  We stopped for no reason to do fun things and build happy memories.  We focused on connection above all else. 

We did things that made us laugh. 

We took lots of breaks and were very intentionally aware of our commitments.  We applied grace liberally to every aspect of life. 

We got out of our routine and enjoyed beauty.  Because we can.

We focused on joy, peace and rest.

I don't see much changing for us in October.

In many real ways, we're rebuilding our family.  We are different people on the other side of this experience.  I know that our foundation is still there, and that foundation has proved, and continues to prove, incredibly strong.  But it is again a matter of establishing our new normal. 

We will get there, and we will get help if the path becomes too difficult.  We are worth fighting for. 

And while it's hard, there is grace.  And Halloween Bingo.



For parents dealing with attachment and trauma: Don't miss these amazing resources!  THIS is what we used during my MA program as foundational for connecting with "kids from hard places."  It is a game changer.  Also: this, and this are phenomenal. 

Siblings

My two big ones are absolutely amazing big siblings.  Leah and Logan simply adore babies, and they have such hearts for nurturing those precious tiny ones that I never once worried about how they would transition to having Luke here. 

But my baby.  My Livvy.  

My little sweet one who herself loves being the baby.  The girl who is still sleeping in her crib.  The one I carried on my hip or in a carrier for literally the first two years of her life.  The one who almost never smiled at anyone but mommy, and cried whenever she was passed to someone else. The one who, when pressed, will still tell you in no uncertain terms that she prefers being a baby to a big girl.

Would she make the transition with the same tenderness and love that her bigger siblings had always done?

Amazingly, the answer has been a resounding yes.

 

She loves being a big sister.  Each morning when she wakes up, her first question is always the same: can I hold baby Luke?  She is patient, kind and loving, and entirely understanding of how mommy has to devote a lot of time to the baby.

She shushes him when he cries, gives him his paci and is so proud when he smiles at her or holds her hand.  We have told each of our children that when the baby holds their finger, it means he knows they're his big brother or sister.  And she absolutely adores being Luke's big sister!

We are so extremely proud of our babies as they have moved out of the baby phase of life and into the season of being the older sibling.  It is an incredible thing to watch!

11 Weeks

Smiles and sunshine.  That's what he brings to this busiest season of my life so far.

Postcards from Rushmore

Official announcement: We're moving to Nemo, South Dakota!

Well, okay, so maybe not.  But we did have an absolutely fantastic time on our family trip visiting South Dakota and all it has to offer.  

Yes, I am a nerd.  A history nerd, even, but Mt. Rushmore has been on my bucket list for years.  I had absolutely no idea that it is a quick 6 hour drive from the state in which I've spent my entire life.  How did I miss that all this time? 

Before our trip, we read a book and watched a documentary about the history of the monument, created by John Gutzon Borglum and his son Lincoln from 1927-41.  What an absolutely fascinating endeavor!  To think that about 400 men scaled this mountain and blasted and chiseled it into what we see today... amazing! 

The Gutzon Borglum studio, which houses a one-twelfth scale completed rendering of the monument, was amazing to see!

The monument itself was created using measurements taken from this sculpture with a degree stick and a weighted string, as pictured above (hanging off of Lincoln's head).  AMAZING what human ingenuity and determination can do!!!

Just to give you an idea of the scale, we present: Leah!  And this is the small version. 

The entire monument was never finished according to Gutzon Borglum's specifications for three main reasons: 1) they ran out of money, 2) WWII began, and 3) John Borglum died before the project was finished.  They "settled" for just the heads.

It was pretty incredible to see in person.

And something the entire family enjoyed. 

Or, at least, as much as a person can when they're two and have missed nap time.

(Don't worry, they made up later.)  

We all took time to thoroughly appreciate the scope of history that stood before us with solemn, serious reflection.

Honest.

Rushmore was probably the highlight of our trip to South Dakota, but it was also only the beginning.  There is so much to do and see; we stayed three nights, but it was nowhere near enough.  This is definitely a trip we'll make again.

Check one off the bucket list!

(I like to do that while wearing small babies.)

Easter, belated

Since everything in our world was so screwy this spring, one of the things that we missed entirely was Easter.

Fortunately, that didn't end up being an issue.  

In the end, we just made our own a week later, and no one was the wiser.  

                       

I'm kind of a kill joy when it comes to the commercialism of Easter.  We don't do the bunny - my kids know that it's just mom and dad - and instead we usually spend the month leading up to Easter learning about the death and resurrection of Jesus.  Of course, this year we cut all of that out too.

I also don't allow a plethora of stuffed animals and candy, because I'm the Easter Grinch.

So what little candy they do get is a BIG deal!  As you can see, it goes pretty quickly.

I have a pretty strict "only if they need it" rule.  Each year, their baskets are filled with items they legitimately need for the upcoming summer season.  Things like sandals, swimsuits, towels, hats, summer jammies or sunglasses.  Maybe a pair of tennis shoes if they've outgrown theirs. 

It just so happened that this year, they all needed a lot.  Somehow, everything just came together such that they needed everything I listed up there.  It was a little excessive, but it was all stuff we would have had to buy anyway.

    

  Leah and Logan have both outgrown their bikes and helmets, and that was a super fun surprise for the kids to wake up to on Easter morning!  Oh my goodness, it was SUCH fun to watch them ride those new bikes up and down the street!  We are almost to the phase where we can actually take family bike rides. Luke just needs to be a little bigger...

We had the hardest time trying to figure out what to get Jacob.  I'm so not an expert on what a teenage boy gets in his Easter basket!  I do believe it was his first ever Easter basket at that, so we tried hard to make it special.  

I LOVE these bright blue hats!  Partly because they're Cubs-colored (GO, Cubs, GO!), but also because they're just so darn practical.  Three bobbing, bright blue heads are so easy to pick out in a crowd!

Little Luke was just an observer this year.  Although, it should probably be noted that he's the only one not to get an Easter basket on his first Easter.  Poor kid.  But, if he wanted to be important, he probably shouldn't have been the fifth born.  ;)

(P.S. How cute is that kid in his froggy jammies?!) 

Even if we had to set aside some of our traditions this year, we still enjoyed ourselves.  There was awesome breakfast and cinnamon rolls, and our usual big Sunday Dinner to celebrate.  

No doubt about it: we are pretty blessed.

And, we've come a long way since the very first one:

 (Funny side note: This is how fast seven years goes... there was a video camera in the background of one of the shots from our first Easter.  Loooong before I had a smart phone, HA!)

Unsolicited advice from a c-section mama

There is what might described as the "gold standard" of labor and delivery.  Both my sister and my best friend, for example, win whatever fictional prize exists for when labor goes as planned.  And they are both a-ma-zing birthing stories, to be sure.  I know I read dozens of empowering articles and personal stories that celebrate the incredible circumstances under which mothers are able to harness the collective hereditary power passed on since the beginning of time.

I love natural childbirth.  I love the women who are brave and strong and able to undertake the journey.

But I want to pause to celebrate and recognize the other end of the spectrum.  If an unmedicated, natural childbirth is the gold standard, let's also explore the unsung heroes, and some truths about c-section mamas.

C-section mamas are strong.
Let's face it.  Whatever birth you envisioned, whether long or short or medicated or unmedicated, whether you imagined your water breaking and anticipated the special moment you'd finally realize it's time! Even if you dreaded the hours of contractions and feared the pushing, the reality is that there aren't many who dreamed of meeting their child for the first time in the cold, white-walled operating room.  At some point, c-section mamas are faced with a reality that they were unprepared for.  They must shift their expectations at best; but for many, a c-section means letting go of the long-held dream of experiencing the delivery of a baby.

Sometimes a mama has a few weeks or days to come to terms with this change, but sometimes she has only hours or minutes.  There may be the added terror that something has gone wrong.  There may be huge disappointment after hours of already heroic labor, to no avail.  Whatever the route, the c-section mama must summon her courage and find the inner strength that allows her to enter the operating room.  Not to save her own life as we might otherwise do, but because it must be done for her baby.

C-section mamas are brave.
Facing a major surgery is scary.  Being on the operating table is scary.  The actual process - strapped to the table, half a dozen people in scrubs and masks, anesthesia, catheters, cutting and suturing, counting medical gear to make sure none is left inside of you - is no picnic.  And that's before we consider recovery.

Immediately after surgery, a csection mama naturally cannot move around much.  She may be coming off of medication, or perhaps even waking up from anesthesia.  Her legs are tingling and heavy.  She's puffy from all the fluids that have been pumped into her, and her skin has a sallow, yellow color. She may be nauseous, dizzy, groggy or have a head ache from all the medication. Eventually, she will begin to feel the full effects of what has been done to her.  Walking across the room will be a challenge, and may not even be an option on the day of her baby's birth.

And still, you will see that mama smile.  She will hold onto the fierce love burning inside her for the tiny life she is so bravely bringing into the world, and whatever her body endures will become bearable.  She knows she is facing real wounds and real scars, and she will tell you only: it was worth it.  I'd do it again.

She will have to hold onto that strength for weeks, perhaps even months, as literally everything from riding in the car to putting on underwear hurts (PS: granny panties and a good support belt will help!).  Sitting up to nurse her precious baby hurts.  Going to the bathroom really hurts. She may have orders not to go up the stairs or lift anything other than the baby.

C-section mamas deserve a break.  And some help.
Of course, every body is different.  Some bodies heal quickly, and a csection mama may be up and about with little or no residual pain in a matter of days.  Others... not so much.  It is my fervent belief that every mother deserves to have a break after delivery.  She deserves to be pampered and take a rest after the herculean task her body has just undergone.  But a c-section mama?  It's requisite.

A c-section is major surgery.  She is going to be on major pain medication.  While most people would prefer to eat ice cream and take a break after major surgery, a mother does exactly the opposite.  She who should be cared for does the caring, the bonding, the breastfeeding, diaper changing and child nurturing.  Don't let her fool you.  Make sure she doesn't have to stand on her feet (which hurts) and feed or chase or clothe the people before she has healed.  Just for good measure, plan to have a solid support team for the first 6 weeks after surgery.  Mom shouldn't be doing anything more than navigating the bathroom and the baby for the first two weeks.  Yes, she will argue with you.  Yes, she will protest.  And yes, she needs to prioritize herself first.  If she feels better earlier?  GREAT!

It may feel like a big deal.  But you ARE okay.
Because, we are told that there is a gold standard to which we should aspire.  There is a sense that a c-section isn't "real" or "normal" labor.  A c-section mama may feel as if she has let herself or her baby down.  She may have guilt, regret, fear of another c-section or of never experiencing "true" labor.  She may recoil as she examines what has happened to her body, and have to remind herself she bears only a slight, below-the-belt resemblance to Frankenstein's monster. She may be accused of taking the easy way out, when nothing could be further from the truth.

You are a hero, c-section mama.  And, if I do say so myself, you are a badass.

And, whatever your feelings on my statements above, make sure you adhere to this advice:

don't stop taking that stool softener.

You'll thank me later.  :)

C-section mamas have amazing birth stories, too.