Kendra Tierney's Blog, page 13
August 7, 2015
Seven Things I DON'T Do With a Newborn (anymore)
With baby Mary Jane closing in on the two week anniversary of that time she was accidentally born in our bathtub, I thought I'd take this opportunity to share some photos of her, and a few things I've learned NOT to do while parenting my newborns.
1. Change Her Diaper at Night
This is huge you guys. You know how the books tell you that in the middle of the night you'll feed the baby, she'll half fall asleep, then she'll poop, then you have to change her diaper, resulting in a wide-awake baby, and then, you know, you just hang out, until you can start the process all over again in half an hour?
I don't do that.
Lulu and Frankie are pretty excited about a new little sister.
When the baby is sleepy and I am sleepy, I change her diaper, then I lay down with her in bed and nurse her until we both fall asleep and then . . . we get up in the morning. I nurse her, half-awake, as needed, through the night, and she always goes right back to sleep. Even if her pants aren't clean. And I've never had babies get diaper rash from new baby poop. They totally don't care. They juuuuust go right back to sleep.
I know co-sleeping isn't for everyone. But it IS for us, and co-sleeping is way better when it involves actual sleeping.
I cannot believe how GIANT Lulu became as soon as we brought home Mary Jane!
2. Put Her Down
I just don't put my babies down any more. I tried with my first, and it was just an unmitigated disaster. So now, they just get held or worn all the time. Mostly by me, sometimes by dad or grandparents or siblings. But, for the first few weeks, I don't even have a crib or basket or swing or anything for putting babies in even out and available.
So many girls! At one point we had three boys and a girl, but now we've flip-flopped with the second four.
We do own a swing, someplace, and when she gets a little older, and there aren't as many grownups around here to help, I'll get it out and use it as much as the baby will tolerate. But, mostly, if it's working for her, I'll still hold or wear her almost all the time.
Not because I hate it and suffer through every second of it, not because I think only terrible mothers ever put their babies down . . . but because I don't hate it TOO much, and sometimes I even like it, and it's the way I've figured out to have my babies be happy and/or asleep all the time. And I like that.
3. Keep Track of Diapers or Feedings or ANY of That
I half-heartedly made check marks on the diapers and feedings chart they gave me with our first baby. But I soon figured out that my baby and I were both better off just focusing on getting to know each other and figuring out nursing, without any paperwork at all.
These days, I no longer think of nursing as "feeding the baby." I think of nursing as "the thing the baby does when she is awake." ("And sometimes also while she is sleeping." ^see above^)
Mary Jane's "that sound makes me hungry" face. This is what she does when she hears my voice. It cracks me up every time.
Now, in response to all things, I just . . . nurse the baby. Whether the problem is Hungry, or Grumpy, or Tired, or Awake, or Noisy in Church, the solution is always . . . nursing. It works great. I just always. nurse. the baby.
Auntie Leila can tell you all about it.
Hey, it's World Breastfeeding Week! Here's my contribution.
4. Take Her Back to the Doctor to Get the Clamp Off
Maybe if you stay in the hospital for long enough, they'll take it off before you leave. But we never do stay in the hospital long enough for that. So we used to go back to the pediatrician to have them cut the plastic clamp off.
But ya know what? It doesn't require and special skills or tools. If you've got some diagonal cutters (like pliers, but sharp), you can clip right through the joint end, and open it up and off it comes. Then you can clip off some of the dried, flattened, scratchy part of the cord that isn't actually wet or sticky or touching the body, and wait for the rest of it to dry up and fall off.
I'm not saying YOU have to, but that's what I do.
5. Bathe Her
Once that umbilical cord stump falls off, you're supposed to start bathing the baby, right? That's what I used to do. And boy did my babies hate it. Mostly because I was a dummy who thought I should put baby Jack in the bath seat in the sink and just run the faucet on him. Poor thing.
A little morning sun bathing, a little Lion King.
Anyway, all my newborns have pretty much hated baths, even once my technique improved. And I really don't have time for stuff that requires an elaborate set up to upset my baby.
Now, I just sorta wipe them off as needed. Or I take them into the bathtub with me, which they like, but . . . it can end, um, abruptly.
Thirteen years apart. Just getting a few kick-punching tips from big brother.
6. Wait to Baptize Her
With our first couple babies, I wanted everything to be perfect for the baptism. I wanted to plan just the right service and reception. I wanted all the family and all our friends to be able to attend.
And all that is perfectly lovely to want. But, for me, wanting that meant I wasn't focusing on what was most important: the actual sacrament.
Now, we baptize our babies just as quickly as we can. Usually the weekend after they're born, but certainly within a couple weeks. We have personal relationships with a few priests and we've always been able to find one willing and available to do a private baptism within that time period.
With godmother Micaela.
We invite everyone, and hope people can make it. But if they can't, we are content with their prayers. It's not because I worry that our babies are actually in danger of dying, or that I doubt that a merciful and omnipotent God would accept our intent to baptize our child if the worst did happen. It's because I believe completely in the importance and efficacy of baptism. I don't want my perfect little baby girl to live with the burden of original sin for one more moment than she must.
Centerpieces washi-taped by Betty and Anita.
I don't want her to live without the graces that baptism gives her for one more moment than she must.
It just seems like something that I wouldn't want to put off.
Duchess of Caimbridge-inspiered . . .
Unlike all the other parties I throw which *I* think are simple, but probably aren't, our baptism parties really ARE simple.
For Mary Jane's baptism last Sunday, we had pink paper plates, a tray of take out deli sandwiches, various juices, a fruit plate, and some donuts. Boom. It's a party.
Sundays are for donuts.
And, more importantly, it's a new little a Catholic with a squeaky clean soul.
7. Figure I've Got it Figured Out
Because while I do have it WAY more figured out than I did with my first couple babies, and I know how things TEND to go, and what TENDS to work for me and for my brand of babies . . . each time is going to be a little bit different.
Twenty-first century baby. Face Time with Gramma.
Each pregnancy, each labor, each delivery, each recovery, each baby is going to have its own unique things going on.
I haven't found it useful to compare myself to other people, or even to my own other babies. What works best is to pay attention to what my body and my baby seem to need this time around, and then do that.
And not fret about it.
Peas porridge hot. Peas porridge cold. Mary Jane in a pot, nine days old.
Bonus: I DO . . . Let People Help Me
You guys may have noticed that I like to do stuff. But at least for the first two weeks, I try not to. The husband has awesome paternity leave, my parents are great and come spend a week or two at the house every time we have a baby. Our Catholic community is THE best and our friends deliver meals to us four or five times per week for a couple of weeks.
These brownies came to my house. It was awesome.
And, I’m not great at relaxing. I’m not as good as Blythe. I tend to have a pretty easy time of it physically, which means I feel better postpartum than I did when I was huge and pregnant. But even with a pretty easy recovery, I really notice when I overdo it. It is a good thing for me to chill with this sweet new baby. And for me to gratefully accept kind and generous offers of help. And let someone else wrangle Frankie. Rawr.
Linking up today with Kelly for 7QT! Have a great weekend, all.
1. Change Her Diaper at Night
This is huge you guys. You know how the books tell you that in the middle of the night you'll feed the baby, she'll half fall asleep, then she'll poop, then you have to change her diaper, resulting in a wide-awake baby, and then, you know, you just hang out, until you can start the process all over again in half an hour?
I don't do that.
Lulu and Frankie are pretty excited about a new little sister.When the baby is sleepy and I am sleepy, I change her diaper, then I lay down with her in bed and nurse her until we both fall asleep and then . . . we get up in the morning. I nurse her, half-awake, as needed, through the night, and she always goes right back to sleep. Even if her pants aren't clean. And I've never had babies get diaper rash from new baby poop. They totally don't care. They juuuuust go right back to sleep.
I know co-sleeping isn't for everyone. But it IS for us, and co-sleeping is way better when it involves actual sleeping.
I cannot believe how GIANT Lulu became as soon as we brought home Mary Jane!2. Put Her Down
I just don't put my babies down any more. I tried with my first, and it was just an unmitigated disaster. So now, they just get held or worn all the time. Mostly by me, sometimes by dad or grandparents or siblings. But, for the first few weeks, I don't even have a crib or basket or swing or anything for putting babies in even out and available.
So many girls! At one point we had three boys and a girl, but now we've flip-flopped with the second four.We do own a swing, someplace, and when she gets a little older, and there aren't as many grownups around here to help, I'll get it out and use it as much as the baby will tolerate. But, mostly, if it's working for her, I'll still hold or wear her almost all the time.
Not because I hate it and suffer through every second of it, not because I think only terrible mothers ever put their babies down . . . but because I don't hate it TOO much, and sometimes I even like it, and it's the way I've figured out to have my babies be happy and/or asleep all the time. And I like that.
3. Keep Track of Diapers or Feedings or ANY of That
I half-heartedly made check marks on the diapers and feedings chart they gave me with our first baby. But I soon figured out that my baby and I were both better off just focusing on getting to know each other and figuring out nursing, without any paperwork at all.
These days, I no longer think of nursing as "feeding the baby." I think of nursing as "the thing the baby does when she is awake." ("And sometimes also while she is sleeping." ^see above^)
Mary Jane's "that sound makes me hungry" face. This is what she does when she hears my voice. It cracks me up every time.Now, in response to all things, I just . . . nurse the baby. Whether the problem is Hungry, or Grumpy, or Tired, or Awake, or Noisy in Church, the solution is always . . . nursing. It works great. I just always. nurse. the baby.
Auntie Leila can tell you all about it.
Hey, it's World Breastfeeding Week! Here's my contribution.4. Take Her Back to the Doctor to Get the Clamp Off
Maybe if you stay in the hospital for long enough, they'll take it off before you leave. But we never do stay in the hospital long enough for that. So we used to go back to the pediatrician to have them cut the plastic clamp off.
But ya know what? It doesn't require and special skills or tools. If you've got some diagonal cutters (like pliers, but sharp), you can clip right through the joint end, and open it up and off it comes. Then you can clip off some of the dried, flattened, scratchy part of the cord that isn't actually wet or sticky or touching the body, and wait for the rest of it to dry up and fall off.
I'm not saying YOU have to, but that's what I do.
5. Bathe Her
Once that umbilical cord stump falls off, you're supposed to start bathing the baby, right? That's what I used to do. And boy did my babies hate it. Mostly because I was a dummy who thought I should put baby Jack in the bath seat in the sink and just run the faucet on him. Poor thing.
A little morning sun bathing, a little Lion King.Anyway, all my newborns have pretty much hated baths, even once my technique improved. And I really don't have time for stuff that requires an elaborate set up to upset my baby.
Now, I just sorta wipe them off as needed. Or I take them into the bathtub with me, which they like, but . . . it can end, um, abruptly.
Thirteen years apart. Just getting a few kick-punching tips from big brother.6. Wait to Baptize Her
With our first couple babies, I wanted everything to be perfect for the baptism. I wanted to plan just the right service and reception. I wanted all the family and all our friends to be able to attend.
And all that is perfectly lovely to want. But, for me, wanting that meant I wasn't focusing on what was most important: the actual sacrament.
Now, we baptize our babies just as quickly as we can. Usually the weekend after they're born, but certainly within a couple weeks. We have personal relationships with a few priests and we've always been able to find one willing and available to do a private baptism within that time period.
With godmother Micaela.We invite everyone, and hope people can make it. But if they can't, we are content with their prayers. It's not because I worry that our babies are actually in danger of dying, or that I doubt that a merciful and omnipotent God would accept our intent to baptize our child if the worst did happen. It's because I believe completely in the importance and efficacy of baptism. I don't want my perfect little baby girl to live with the burden of original sin for one more moment than she must.
Centerpieces washi-taped by Betty and Anita.I don't want her to live without the graces that baptism gives her for one more moment than she must.
It just seems like something that I wouldn't want to put off.
Duchess of Caimbridge-inspiered . . . Unlike all the other parties I throw which *I* think are simple, but probably aren't, our baptism parties really ARE simple.
For Mary Jane's baptism last Sunday, we had pink paper plates, a tray of take out deli sandwiches, various juices, a fruit plate, and some donuts. Boom. It's a party.
Sundays are for donuts.And, more importantly, it's a new little a Catholic with a squeaky clean soul.
7. Figure I've Got it Figured Out
Because while I do have it WAY more figured out than I did with my first couple babies, and I know how things TEND to go, and what TENDS to work for me and for my brand of babies . . . each time is going to be a little bit different.
Twenty-first century baby. Face Time with Gramma. Each pregnancy, each labor, each delivery, each recovery, each baby is going to have its own unique things going on.
I haven't found it useful to compare myself to other people, or even to my own other babies. What works best is to pay attention to what my body and my baby seem to need this time around, and then do that.
And not fret about it.
Peas porridge hot. Peas porridge cold. Mary Jane in a pot, nine days old.Bonus: I DO . . . Let People Help Me
You guys may have noticed that I like to do stuff. But at least for the first two weeks, I try not to. The husband has awesome paternity leave, my parents are great and come spend a week or two at the house every time we have a baby. Our Catholic community is THE best and our friends deliver meals to us four or five times per week for a couple of weeks.
These brownies came to my house. It was awesome.And, I’m not great at relaxing. I’m not as good as Blythe. I tend to have a pretty easy time of it physically, which means I feel better postpartum than I did when I was huge and pregnant. But even with a pretty easy recovery, I really notice when I overdo it. It is a good thing for me to chill with this sweet new baby. And for me to gratefully accept kind and generous offers of help. And let someone else wrangle Frankie. Rawr.
Linking up today with Kelly for 7QT! Have a great weekend, all.
August 6, 2015
Bedwetting, Toilets, & Worst Mom of the Year: Mystery Blogger Series
I'm terrible at taking blog breaks, or relaxing in general. But just in case I do happen to feel like relaxing with this new baby when the time comes, I've asked some of my favorite bloggers to guest post for me. But not in the usual way.
Blogging is a great way to share insights and experiences. But, sometimes, as much as we'd like to start a discussion, it's not our story to share, or feelings could be hurt, or relationships damaged. So, for my guest posting series, I asked bloggers to share here, anonymously, posts they felt they couldn't put on their own blogs.
I hope you'll find them as compelling as I have.
-Kendra
The pharmacy tech glanced up at me, smiled and quipped, “What’s the special occasion?”
I must’ve looked confused because she asked again, this time pointing to my Dr. Who themed earrings.
“Where you headed?”
I sighed and just explained I was a huge fan, but that my monthly pharmacy visit for my son’s two urology medications was rarely deemed a “special occasion.”
And thus, the life of a mom who has a son who suffers from a difficult and emotionally charged case of overactive bladder.
In the early days, nearly ten years ago, we chalked up Christian’s* frequent and very heavy bedwetting to the boy factor. His older brother, five years his senior, had some wetting issues and there’s some family history. His younger sister was potty trained in less than three days. Go figure. By the time his older brother turned five, we had largely abandoned pullups at night, with only the occasional bed wetting incident. With Christian, it was a different story.
We tried the usual:
Limit liquids after 6pmAvoid the four “C’s” which irritate bladder function: caffeine in all forms, citrus, carbonated beverages and foods high in Vitamin CIncrease water intake during the day to prevent constipation which leads to abnormal bladder function in young childrenWake him in the middle of the night to take him to the bathroomSticker chartsIncentive programsPunishment / loss or privileges (that one stings and I’ll share more in a moment)None of it worked.
One afternoon, we were out looking at Christmas decorations and in a 90-minute span we had stopped four times to take him to the bathroom. At the end, we were all in tears and at that point, we knew it was time to visit the specialist.
The journey of navigating a confirmed diagnosis of overactive bladder has been one filled with lots of tears, many prayers and growth – for Christian and our family. If I could take back all those moments where I disciplined him for an accident, when I thought he was being defiant, I would. They have cost me hours in the confessional.
The pediatrician offered us the usual advice (see above). The first pediatric urologist we visited ended up referring us to his Nurse Practitioner. She was helpful, but not. We really got nowhere. That turned into a flow test. It’s basically where electrodes are attached near the genital area and then the patient urinates into a toilet, all while a monitor measures the intensity and frequency of the flow of urine.
In a word? Humiliating. The tears my son and I shared that day were profound. The tech was extremely apologetic but after that experience, I grabbed Christian by the shoulders, looked him in the eyes and said, “Never again. We will never do this again.”
Then there was the larger issue of school. Several days he came home smelling like urine and when I asked what happened he told me the teacher only allowed them certain times for bathroom breaks. (Don’t even get me started on the ridiculousness of that policy. If a kid needs to pee, a kid needs to pee. Let kids go to the bathroom when nature calls. Yes, a schedule is helpful in maintaining structure, but let’s use some discretion!)
We visited yet another specialist and reluctantly added medication to his regimen. It seemed to help somewhat. We tinkered with dosage for several months and finally found a sweet spot. At least for a bit. In the meantime, I secured a note from the specialist and met with my son’s teachers and the principal to discuss his diagnosis, needs and requirements. The school came around and we were feeling mostly good about his progress.
Then Christian went to summer church camp. For a week. It’s not possible for me to adequately explain my fear and anxiety in sending him off for that many days and yet, I felt like I couldn’t confide in anyone, outside of my husband. It was just too personal of a subject. My husband and I desired a normal life for him and I reluctantly sent him off to camp. Well, him and his pullups and discreet garbage bags so he could stash them in the trash can. We spoke to the camp directors and counselors. He did beautifully.
His foot locker? Notsomuch. Christian was too scared to throw the pullups in the trash so he just stuffed them in his luggage. Oy vey.
Upon his return from camp, the bedwetting increased. Five nights of the week, I was laundering soaked, SOAKED, sheets and pajamas. His self-confidence hit the toilet. Literally.
The pediatric urologist suggested surgery to “open the flow” on the end of his penis. After some serious prayer and lots of discussions with his specialist and the pediatrician we moved forward with this out-patient surgery. That’s about a $1,000 and many tears I wish we had back. It didn’t do a damn thing.
We visited the chiropractor. I was getting desperate. Not that the chiro is a “throw in the towel” moment, but the fact that we started delving into non-traditional treatments meant that we were now in a whole new realm. Hypnosis was on the table, as was acupuncture. None of it really worked. It would only work for the short-term, a day or three, then we were right back where we started.
Enter another specialist. This time, we turned to an adult urologist. He suggested a nighttime medication, to be used for longer stints away from home, and only rarely. But his primary motivation for prescribing the medication was to give his bladder a rest. He explained Christian’s system was likely feeling stressed and that perhaps with a few nights (and days) of success it might boost his self-confidence. Something he desperately needed. The specialist also reminded us boys with a family history of bed wetting typically go through a bell curve of accidents, peaking around age ten then tapering off near age 16.
The combination of medicines, positive self-talk and much prayer have allowed us to make some marked progress these past few months. There is peace again in our home. While I am weary we may have another five years ahead of us, I am hopeful for this new path.
To you moms who have a child struggling with the same issue, please take comfort in knowing that another mom feels your pain, knows your cross and is praying with you. And, thank you for letting me blog anonymously to protect our son and our family as we share a very personal struggle.
*name has been changed
p.s. Happy Feast of the Transfiguration! It's just a tiny glimpse . . . of the glory to come!
As with all my printables, you are welcome to save the images to your computer for your own personal use. You may print the images and / or upload them and have prints made for your personal use or to give as gifts. (These are sized for 8x10 or square but will print well much bigger.) First click on the image to bring it up in a new window, then right click on the image to save it to your computer. You may use my images on your blog, just please link back to my blog. If you would like to sell my images, please contact me first.
For LOTS MORE free printable prayers, check out my Pinterest board.
Blogging is a great way to share insights and experiences. But, sometimes, as much as we'd like to start a discussion, it's not our story to share, or feelings could be hurt, or relationships damaged. So, for my guest posting series, I asked bloggers to share here, anonymously, posts they felt they couldn't put on their own blogs.
I hope you'll find them as compelling as I have.
-Kendra
The pharmacy tech glanced up at me, smiled and quipped, “What’s the special occasion?”
I must’ve looked confused because she asked again, this time pointing to my Dr. Who themed earrings.
“Where you headed?”
I sighed and just explained I was a huge fan, but that my monthly pharmacy visit for my son’s two urology medications was rarely deemed a “special occasion.”
And thus, the life of a mom who has a son who suffers from a difficult and emotionally charged case of overactive bladder.
In the early days, nearly ten years ago, we chalked up Christian’s* frequent and very heavy bedwetting to the boy factor. His older brother, five years his senior, had some wetting issues and there’s some family history. His younger sister was potty trained in less than three days. Go figure. By the time his older brother turned five, we had largely abandoned pullups at night, with only the occasional bed wetting incident. With Christian, it was a different story.
We tried the usual:
Limit liquids after 6pmAvoid the four “C’s” which irritate bladder function: caffeine in all forms, citrus, carbonated beverages and foods high in Vitamin CIncrease water intake during the day to prevent constipation which leads to abnormal bladder function in young childrenWake him in the middle of the night to take him to the bathroomSticker chartsIncentive programsPunishment / loss or privileges (that one stings and I’ll share more in a moment)None of it worked.
One afternoon, we were out looking at Christmas decorations and in a 90-minute span we had stopped four times to take him to the bathroom. At the end, we were all in tears and at that point, we knew it was time to visit the specialist.
The journey of navigating a confirmed diagnosis of overactive bladder has been one filled with lots of tears, many prayers and growth – for Christian and our family. If I could take back all those moments where I disciplined him for an accident, when I thought he was being defiant, I would. They have cost me hours in the confessional.
The pediatrician offered us the usual advice (see above). The first pediatric urologist we visited ended up referring us to his Nurse Practitioner. She was helpful, but not. We really got nowhere. That turned into a flow test. It’s basically where electrodes are attached near the genital area and then the patient urinates into a toilet, all while a monitor measures the intensity and frequency of the flow of urine.
In a word? Humiliating. The tears my son and I shared that day were profound. The tech was extremely apologetic but after that experience, I grabbed Christian by the shoulders, looked him in the eyes and said, “Never again. We will never do this again.”
Then there was the larger issue of school. Several days he came home smelling like urine and when I asked what happened he told me the teacher only allowed them certain times for bathroom breaks. (Don’t even get me started on the ridiculousness of that policy. If a kid needs to pee, a kid needs to pee. Let kids go to the bathroom when nature calls. Yes, a schedule is helpful in maintaining structure, but let’s use some discretion!)
We visited yet another specialist and reluctantly added medication to his regimen. It seemed to help somewhat. We tinkered with dosage for several months and finally found a sweet spot. At least for a bit. In the meantime, I secured a note from the specialist and met with my son’s teachers and the principal to discuss his diagnosis, needs and requirements. The school came around and we were feeling mostly good about his progress.
Then Christian went to summer church camp. For a week. It’s not possible for me to adequately explain my fear and anxiety in sending him off for that many days and yet, I felt like I couldn’t confide in anyone, outside of my husband. It was just too personal of a subject. My husband and I desired a normal life for him and I reluctantly sent him off to camp. Well, him and his pullups and discreet garbage bags so he could stash them in the trash can. We spoke to the camp directors and counselors. He did beautifully.
His foot locker? Notsomuch. Christian was too scared to throw the pullups in the trash so he just stuffed them in his luggage. Oy vey.
Upon his return from camp, the bedwetting increased. Five nights of the week, I was laundering soaked, SOAKED, sheets and pajamas. His self-confidence hit the toilet. Literally.
The pediatric urologist suggested surgery to “open the flow” on the end of his penis. After some serious prayer and lots of discussions with his specialist and the pediatrician we moved forward with this out-patient surgery. That’s about a $1,000 and many tears I wish we had back. It didn’t do a damn thing.
We visited the chiropractor. I was getting desperate. Not that the chiro is a “throw in the towel” moment, but the fact that we started delving into non-traditional treatments meant that we were now in a whole new realm. Hypnosis was on the table, as was acupuncture. None of it really worked. It would only work for the short-term, a day or three, then we were right back where we started.
Enter another specialist. This time, we turned to an adult urologist. He suggested a nighttime medication, to be used for longer stints away from home, and only rarely. But his primary motivation for prescribing the medication was to give his bladder a rest. He explained Christian’s system was likely feeling stressed and that perhaps with a few nights (and days) of success it might boost his self-confidence. Something he desperately needed. The specialist also reminded us boys with a family history of bed wetting typically go through a bell curve of accidents, peaking around age ten then tapering off near age 16.
The combination of medicines, positive self-talk and much prayer have allowed us to make some marked progress these past few months. There is peace again in our home. While I am weary we may have another five years ahead of us, I am hopeful for this new path.
To you moms who have a child struggling with the same issue, please take comfort in knowing that another mom feels your pain, knows your cross and is praying with you. And, thank you for letting me blog anonymously to protect our son and our family as we share a very personal struggle.
*name has been changed
p.s. Happy Feast of the Transfiguration! It's just a tiny glimpse . . . of the glory to come!
As with all my printables, you are welcome to save the images to your computer for your own personal use. You may print the images and / or upload them and have prints made for your personal use or to give as gifts. (These are sized for 8x10 or square but will print well much bigger.) First click on the image to bring it up in a new window, then right click on the image to save it to your computer. You may use my images on your blog, just please link back to my blog. If you would like to sell my images, please contact me first.
For LOTS MORE free printable prayers, check out my Pinterest board.
August 4, 2015
Choosing Godparents & Supporting Godchildren: How We Do It
Mary Jane was baptized last Sunday, and since a few of you asked in the comments of Facebook and Instagram photos, I'll use this photo dump to answer your godparent/godchildren related questions.
How Do We Choose Godparents for Our Children?
We choose practicing Catholics. Period.
Some of our kids have aunts and uncles for godparents, most have married or single friends as godparents. But, really, what we are looking for are two people who will pray for, and set a good example for, our child.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church says:
The Code of Canon Law says:
So, we've been really careful not to view the office of godparents as a way to honor a family member, or uphold any particular family tradition, or align our children with someone important. According to canon law, we COULD choose one "witness" godparent who is a non-Catholic christian. But we haven't done that, because our goal is to choose other Catholics that we trust to help us guide our child to grow to be a good Catholic.
Of course, we can't tell the future, and there's no way to guarantee that someone that we choose, who might be a practicing Catholic at the time, will continue to be a practicing Catholic. All we can do is our best.
But, like I said, our goal is to find godparents who will pray for our children, and be a good example to them, in whatever is their vocation and state of life. Some of our kids have godparents who live locally and come to their birthday parties and take them on special outings, some have godparents who are out of town and send gifts at Christmas, some have godparents who are busy raising their own big families, Anita's godfather is a monk, so we don't see him very often . . . but I'm confident that all of my kids' godparents pray for them often. And that's what I really want.
How Do We Support Our Godchildren?
Given my answer to the other question, it won't surprise you that the main thing we do is . . . pray for them.
We remember them in prayer, and offer rosaries and Mass intentions for them.
When we go on pilgrimages, we get them each a small gift, and pray for them at our destination.
We send them a small gift or an email or video message to commemorate their baptism days and birthdays (mostly, when I'm on top of things and remember to do it) and I have a continuing Christmas gift that I add to each year for each godchild. For one, it's a charm bracelet. For the rest, I'm working on a Fontanini Nativity Set
for each. I think it's a good choice for boys and girls, and something they'll hopefully be able to use and enjoy every Christmas for the rest of their lives.
The Fontanini pieces are good quality, with lots of detail, but they are made of resin and are virtually indestructible. (This isn't a sponsored post, I just think they're great.) The baby Jesus is small enough to get lost or be a choking hazard, but they're not going to break him. Each piece is less than twenty dollars, and I can often find buy one get one deals before Christmas, or buy sets and split the pieces up between kids or between years.
You could make yourself a spreadsheet if you're into that sort of thing, but I keep a running note on my iPad, with the name of each godchild, and which pieces of the nativity they already have. First they get a baby Jesus, then Mary, then Joseph, then the stable, then the angel, then each of the wisemen, then a shepherd, then some animals, etc.
By the time they're grown, they'll have a set that looks about like this:
And, if they choose, they can continue to add to it until it gets completely out of control:
I've heard of other families who do an add a pearl necklace, or other things like that. But this is what WE do, and I've found it to be popular with our godchildren and manageable for me to remember and execute. If you've got other ideas, please share them in the comments!
And join me in welcoming our newest little Catholic.
How Do We Choose Godparents for Our Children?
We choose practicing Catholics. Period.
Some of our kids have aunts and uncles for godparents, most have married or single friends as godparents. But, really, what we are looking for are two people who will pray for, and set a good example for, our child.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church says:
1255 For the grace of Baptism to unfold, the parents' help is important. So too is the role of the godfather and godmother, who must be firm believers, able and ready to help the newly baptized - child or adult on the road of Christian life.55 Their task is a truly ecclesial function (officium).56 The whole ecclesial community bears some responsibility for the development and safeguarding of the grace given at Baptism.
The Code of Canon Law says:
CHAPTER IV.SPONSORSCan. 872 Insofar as possible, a person to be baptized is to be given a sponsor who assists an adult in Christian initiation or together with the parents presents an infant for baptism. A sponsor also helps the baptized person to lead a Christian life in keeping with baptism and to fulfill faithfully the obligations inherent in it.Can. 873 There is to be only one male sponsor or one female sponsor or one of each.Can. 874 §1. To be permitted to take on the function of sponsor a person must:1/ be designated by the one to be baptized, by the parents or the person who takes their place, or in their absence by the pastor or minister and have the aptitude and intention of fulfilling this function;2/ have completed the sixteenth year of age, unless the diocesan bishop has established another age, or the pastor or minister has granted an exception for a just cause;3/ be a Catholic who has been confirmed and has already received the most holy sacrament of the Eucharist and who leads a life of faith in keeping with the function to be taken on;4/ not be bound by any canonical penalty legitimately imposed or declared;5/ not be the father or mother of the one to be baptized.§2. A baptized person who belongs to a non-Catholic ecclesial community is not to participate except together with a Catholic sponsor and then only as a witness of the baptism.
So, we've been really careful not to view the office of godparents as a way to honor a family member, or uphold any particular family tradition, or align our children with someone important. According to canon law, we COULD choose one "witness" godparent who is a non-Catholic christian. But we haven't done that, because our goal is to choose other Catholics that we trust to help us guide our child to grow to be a good Catholic.
Of course, we can't tell the future, and there's no way to guarantee that someone that we choose, who might be a practicing Catholic at the time, will continue to be a practicing Catholic. All we can do is our best.
But, like I said, our goal is to find godparents who will pray for our children, and be a good example to them, in whatever is their vocation and state of life. Some of our kids have godparents who live locally and come to their birthday parties and take them on special outings, some have godparents who are out of town and send gifts at Christmas, some have godparents who are busy raising their own big families, Anita's godfather is a monk, so we don't see him very often . . . but I'm confident that all of my kids' godparents pray for them often. And that's what I really want.
How Do We Support Our Godchildren?
Given my answer to the other question, it won't surprise you that the main thing we do is . . . pray for them.
We remember them in prayer, and offer rosaries and Mass intentions for them.
When we go on pilgrimages, we get them each a small gift, and pray for them at our destination.
We send them a small gift or an email or video message to commemorate their baptism days and birthdays (mostly, when I'm on top of things and remember to do it) and I have a continuing Christmas gift that I add to each year for each godchild. For one, it's a charm bracelet. For the rest, I'm working on a Fontanini Nativity Set
for each. I think it's a good choice for boys and girls, and something they'll hopefully be able to use and enjoy every Christmas for the rest of their lives.The Fontanini pieces are good quality, with lots of detail, but they are made of resin and are virtually indestructible. (This isn't a sponsored post, I just think they're great.) The baby Jesus is small enough to get lost or be a choking hazard, but they're not going to break him. Each piece is less than twenty dollars, and I can often find buy one get one deals before Christmas, or buy sets and split the pieces up between kids or between years.
You could make yourself a spreadsheet if you're into that sort of thing, but I keep a running note on my iPad, with the name of each godchild, and which pieces of the nativity they already have. First they get a baby Jesus, then Mary, then Joseph, then the stable, then the angel, then each of the wisemen, then a shepherd, then some animals, etc.
By the time they're grown, they'll have a set that looks about like this:
And, if they choose, they can continue to add to it until it gets completely out of control:
I've heard of other families who do an add a pearl necklace, or other things like that. But this is what WE do, and I've found it to be popular with our godchildren and manageable for me to remember and execute. If you've got other ideas, please share them in the comments!
And join me in welcoming our newest little Catholic.
August 3, 2015
What to do With Unwanted Sacramentals
It's mailbag time! I've received this same question from a number of different readers. So, perhaps you've been wondering about it as well.
-question-
Dear Kendra,
I am cleaning up the house and happened upon some mail that I wanted to ask you about.
Namely, ever since I began attending Mass on a regular basis, I have been receiving donation requests from various Catholic organizations and charities. Actually, I have two questions. First, is there somewhere I can go to read reviews about different charities? I'd really like to choose one or two to support, but don't have any way to evaluate them all. Second, several of these organizations send sacramentals with their request. I know I'm not supposed to throw away a sacramental, but these aren't things I have asked for or really have a use for. What should I do with them? The most recent example is a small prayer folder containing a relic of St. Padre Pio. It's a little plastic folder, so I can't burn it or bury it. What do I do with it? There's a prayer chapel in town with 24-hour adoration. Would it be appropriate to just leave it there so someone else who would like it can pick it up? Any advice would be greatly appreciated! Thanks.
Sincerely,
Elizabeth
-answer-
Elizabeth,
You mean THIS small prayer folder containing a relic of St. Padre Pio?
This is a great question. (What are sacramentals?
As you point out, blessed objects should not be thrown away. For disposal, they must be buried in the ground or burned (and then the ashes returned to the ground). However, that only applies to objects that have actually been blessed, not all objects with a religious theme to them. So, unless you've had them blessed, or you have reason to believe that they were blessed before you received them, you are free to dispose of them in any way you wish.
Unless it specifically says otherwise, the things that come from those charities are not blessed, and so could be thrown out. The St. Pio one is a special case, since it appears to be a relic. (It's probably just a tiny piece from a bolt of brown cloth touched to his tomb, and therefore second class, but still.) If I didn't have kids who wanted to cherish it (I do), I would probably take it out of the plastic sleeve and bury it in the yard. It can just hang out there, making the yard a tiny bit holier. Or, as you suggest, I'd take it to church with me and put it in the adoration chapel or on the table in the vestibule that has fliers on it. That's a completely reasonable thing to do with all that stuff sent by charities. You never know, SOMEONE might want it.
As for which charities to donate to, that's a very personal decision. And I'm sure everyone who reads my blog has her own opinion on which charities are worthy and why. But for us, we really try to give our money where it can have the most impact. So we try to look for organizations with the lowest overhead. We have personal contacts at both the Missionaries of Charity and Opus Dei, and we know that pretty much every single cent of what you send them goes to their work. The Missionaries of Charity support the poorest and sickest and most vulnerable all over the world. Opus Dei focuses on solid spiritual direction and Catholic formation for children and adults of all income levels.
Probably related to the lack of a staff or an office building, both are kind of hard to track down. In both cases, we called a residence to get a mailing address for them, because we couldn't find anything online.
The US Motherhouse for the Missionaries of Charity is:
Missionaries of Charity
164 Milagra Dr.
Pacifica, CA 94044
Opus Dei has many residences, all work in their local communities. Here's one:
The Woodlawn Foundation
770 S. Windsor Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90005
We also sometimes contribute to Catholic Charities or Catholic Relief Services, when there is a special fund set up for a specific disaster.
And if you're interested in helping one specific person fulfill one specific dream, you could send a few dollars Emily's way, to help her become a missionary in Denver. Read more about her journey and how to donate here.
Hope that helps!
Cheers,
Kendra
Mailbag Disclaimer: I am not a theologian, nor am I an official spokesperson for the Catholic Church. (You're thinking of this guy.) If you read anything on this blog that is contrary to Church teaching, please consider it my error (and let me know!). I'm not a doctor or an expert on anything in particular. I'm just one person with a lot of experience parenting little kids and a desire to share my joy in marriage, mothering, and my faith.
If you've got a question, please send it along to catholicallyear @ gmail . com . Please let me know if you prefer that I change your name if I use your question on the blog.
-question-
Dear Kendra,
I am cleaning up the house and happened upon some mail that I wanted to ask you about.
Namely, ever since I began attending Mass on a regular basis, I have been receiving donation requests from various Catholic organizations and charities. Actually, I have two questions. First, is there somewhere I can go to read reviews about different charities? I'd really like to choose one or two to support, but don't have any way to evaluate them all. Second, several of these organizations send sacramentals with their request. I know I'm not supposed to throw away a sacramental, but these aren't things I have asked for or really have a use for. What should I do with them? The most recent example is a small prayer folder containing a relic of St. Padre Pio. It's a little plastic folder, so I can't burn it or bury it. What do I do with it? There's a prayer chapel in town with 24-hour adoration. Would it be appropriate to just leave it there so someone else who would like it can pick it up? Any advice would be greatly appreciated! Thanks.
Sincerely,
Elizabeth
-answer-
Elizabeth,
You mean THIS small prayer folder containing a relic of St. Padre Pio?
This is a great question. (What are sacramentals?
As you point out, blessed objects should not be thrown away. For disposal, they must be buried in the ground or burned (and then the ashes returned to the ground). However, that only applies to objects that have actually been blessed, not all objects with a religious theme to them. So, unless you've had them blessed, or you have reason to believe that they were blessed before you received them, you are free to dispose of them in any way you wish.
Unless it specifically says otherwise, the things that come from those charities are not blessed, and so could be thrown out. The St. Pio one is a special case, since it appears to be a relic. (It's probably just a tiny piece from a bolt of brown cloth touched to his tomb, and therefore second class, but still.) If I didn't have kids who wanted to cherish it (I do), I would probably take it out of the plastic sleeve and bury it in the yard. It can just hang out there, making the yard a tiny bit holier. Or, as you suggest, I'd take it to church with me and put it in the adoration chapel or on the table in the vestibule that has fliers on it. That's a completely reasonable thing to do with all that stuff sent by charities. You never know, SOMEONE might want it.
As for which charities to donate to, that's a very personal decision. And I'm sure everyone who reads my blog has her own opinion on which charities are worthy and why. But for us, we really try to give our money where it can have the most impact. So we try to look for organizations with the lowest overhead. We have personal contacts at both the Missionaries of Charity and Opus Dei, and we know that pretty much every single cent of what you send them goes to their work. The Missionaries of Charity support the poorest and sickest and most vulnerable all over the world. Opus Dei focuses on solid spiritual direction and Catholic formation for children and adults of all income levels.
Probably related to the lack of a staff or an office building, both are kind of hard to track down. In both cases, we called a residence to get a mailing address for them, because we couldn't find anything online.
The US Motherhouse for the Missionaries of Charity is:
Missionaries of Charity
164 Milagra Dr.
Pacifica, CA 94044
Opus Dei has many residences, all work in their local communities. Here's one:
The Woodlawn Foundation
770 S. Windsor Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90005
We also sometimes contribute to Catholic Charities or Catholic Relief Services, when there is a special fund set up for a specific disaster.
And if you're interested in helping one specific person fulfill one specific dream, you could send a few dollars Emily's way, to help her become a missionary in Denver. Read more about her journey and how to donate here.
Hope that helps!
Cheers,
Kendra
Mailbag Disclaimer: I am not a theologian, nor am I an official spokesperson for the Catholic Church. (You're thinking of this guy.) If you read anything on this blog that is contrary to Church teaching, please consider it my error (and let me know!). I'm not a doctor or an expert on anything in particular. I'm just one person with a lot of experience parenting little kids and a desire to share my joy in marriage, mothering, and my faith.
If you've got a question, please send it along to catholicallyear @ gmail . com . Please let me know if you prefer that I change your name if I use your question on the blog.
July 31, 2015
Why We Feel Better if We Care About Cecil the Lion
I'm going to start here by saying that I don't feel particularly protective of this particular big game hunting dentist (but I do feel for his wife and kids). There are hunters in my family, bow-hunters even, but they do the hunting themselves, and there's an investment of time, and personal skill, and what they hunt actually gets eaten by their families, and sometimes me.
Maybe this guy was hunting legally, probably he wasn't. I think we can agree that modern trophy-hunting seems a bit, um, off somehow. But that's not what I want to talk about. What I want to talk about is the near-universal outcry of horror over the death of Cecil the lion.
There has been a deep and very genuine sadness and disgust across this country, (at least the social-media-using part of the country) over the death of one particular lion who happened to have a name. And what it tells me is that we as a society are hungry for a moral absolute. We need to be able to recognize and agree upon something, ANYTHING, as actually wrong.
We've all heard the term "moral relativism." What moral relativism means in practice is that there are no such things as moral absolutes. Something is right or wrong because any one person feels it should be, without recourse to outside standards of morality or natural law.
A huge segment of our population has been struggling ever since they reached the age of reason to reconcile a personal disgust with the idea of abortion, with the loudly trumpeted demands that we all must recognize that it's NONE OF OUR BUSINESS and we'd better just pipe down. Choice. My body. Reproductive freedom. It's not really a baby. All of it has been shouted in the streets until two generations now honestly can't tell right from wrong or good from evil.
The same goes for other evils we're supposed to celebrate as choice: like euthanasia, and free love, and conceiving children in such a way as to necessarily deprive them of one or both of their parents.
Moral relativism denies a fundamental part of our Truth-seeking human natures. As human beings, we crave moral absolutes. We know somewhere deep down that there IS such a thing as wrong, such a thing as evil. And we want so badly to be allowed to point a finger at it, finally, that when poor, not-actually-all-that-important-in-the-grand-scheme-of-things Cecil the lion comes along, we can barely contain ourselves.
In many cases, we flat out can NOT contain ourselves, and completely lose perspective. And this guy, who seems like he probably deserves to get fined and ridiculed is instead getting death threats and his livelihood revoked.
But it seems reasonable in the throes of our passion in the moment, because here. finally. is evil.
WE can do something about it.
And here's where the true seductiveness of the Cecil the lion phenomenon comes in: it's all so easy. It requires nothing of me. No real sacrifice. No real assistance. In a hundred and forty characters or less I can prove I'm a person who cares about right and wrong. Then I can post a photo of my lunch and move on.
But. If I recognize that abortion is a great evil that harms women and children, if I recognize that divorce, and sex outside of marriage, and pornography have grave consequences . . . then what? I can't solve that on Facebook. That's going to require commitment. It might require me to offer my financial and prayerful and physical assistance to other people. It might require big changes in my own life.
That's scary. Maybe I don't want to think about that.
Ummm . . . Hey, look! A cute lion!
Maybe this guy was hunting legally, probably he wasn't. I think we can agree that modern trophy-hunting seems a bit, um, off somehow. But that's not what I want to talk about. What I want to talk about is the near-universal outcry of horror over the death of Cecil the lion.
There has been a deep and very genuine sadness and disgust across this country, (at least the social-media-using part of the country) over the death of one particular lion who happened to have a name. And what it tells me is that we as a society are hungry for a moral absolute. We need to be able to recognize and agree upon something, ANYTHING, as actually wrong.
We've all heard the term "moral relativism." What moral relativism means in practice is that there are no such things as moral absolutes. Something is right or wrong because any one person feels it should be, without recourse to outside standards of morality or natural law.
A huge segment of our population has been struggling ever since they reached the age of reason to reconcile a personal disgust with the idea of abortion, with the loudly trumpeted demands that we all must recognize that it's NONE OF OUR BUSINESS and we'd better just pipe down. Choice. My body. Reproductive freedom. It's not really a baby. All of it has been shouted in the streets until two generations now honestly can't tell right from wrong or good from evil.
The same goes for other evils we're supposed to celebrate as choice: like euthanasia, and free love, and conceiving children in such a way as to necessarily deprive them of one or both of their parents.
Moral relativism denies a fundamental part of our Truth-seeking human natures. As human beings, we crave moral absolutes. We know somewhere deep down that there IS such a thing as wrong, such a thing as evil. And we want so badly to be allowed to point a finger at it, finally, that when poor, not-actually-all-that-important-in-the-grand-scheme-of-things Cecil the lion comes along, we can barely contain ourselves.
In many cases, we flat out can NOT contain ourselves, and completely lose perspective. And this guy, who seems like he probably deserves to get fined and ridiculed is instead getting death threats and his livelihood revoked.
But it seems reasonable in the throes of our passion in the moment, because here. finally. is evil.
WE can do something about it.
And here's where the true seductiveness of the Cecil the lion phenomenon comes in: it's all so easy. It requires nothing of me. No real sacrifice. No real assistance. In a hundred and forty characters or less I can prove I'm a person who cares about right and wrong. Then I can post a photo of my lunch and move on.
But. If I recognize that abortion is a great evil that harms women and children, if I recognize that divorce, and sex outside of marriage, and pornography have grave consequences . . . then what? I can't solve that on Facebook. That's going to require commitment. It might require me to offer my financial and prayerful and physical assistance to other people. It might require big changes in my own life.
That's scary. Maybe I don't want to think about that.
Ummm . . . Hey, look! A cute lion!
July 30, 2015
When I Didn’t Like My Mother In Law . . . and How I Learned To Get Along Anyway: Mystery Blogger Series
I'm terrible at taking blog breaks, or relaxing in general. But just in case I do happen to feel like relaxing with this new baby when the time comes, I've asked some of my favorite bloggers to guest post for me. But not in the usual way.
Blogging is a great way to share insights and experiences. But, sometimes, as much as we'd like to start a discussion, it's not our story to share, or feelings could be hurt, or relationships damaged. So, for my guest posting series, I asked bloggers to share here, anonymously, posts they felt they couldn't put on their own blogs.
I hope you'll find them as compelling as I have.
-Kendra
I didn’t just dislike my mother-in-law. Sometimes, I actually hated her. It's hard to admit that, because hate is such an ugly word. Such an ugly emotion. However, for several years of our marriage, I actually hated my own mother-in-law.
It wasn’t always that way though. When I first met her, I liked her. I actually liked her.
But then something changed. And the change was mostly on my part. You see, I was young and impressionable when I got married. And I started reading message boards and talking to other wives and mothers, and watching horrid television sitcoms like Everybody Loves Raymond. And I started to think that I was supposed to not get along with her. I started to think that just because she had raised her babies differently than I wanted to raise mine, that we couldn’t get along. I thought that the differences in our parenting philosophies were irreconcilable. In my mind, I turned her into the hypercritical, passive-aggressive, television sitcom mother-in-law.
Oh, how foolish I was. So completely and utterly foolish.
You see . . . I was all into attachment parenting and breastfeeding and gentle discipline. And my mother in law raised her children with cribs and strict bedtimes and crying it out and bottle feeding and lots of spanking. And, I thought those differences in our parenting philosophies were more significant than they actually were. I thought she was judging me, when really I was judging her.
I would take every little thing she said or did and blow it WAY OUT OF PROPORTION in my mind to turn her into a horrible person.
For many years, I lived in dread of seeing her or talking to her on the phone. It’s not a fun way to live.
And, then slowly, slowly something changed in me. It started when I had an imagined near brush with death. And I realized that if I were to die with such hatred in my heart . . . it would not be good for my soul.
I stopped hanging out on forums and message boards where people routinely bashed their in laws. I stopped really talking to people who did the same. And I stopped watching television sitcoms about bad mother in laws.
And, I realized that I’m NOT a perfect mother. I make mistakes . . . mistakes a plenty. For all my parenting philosophy ideals, I’ve messed up. Many, many times. So, I stopped judging other mothers, especially my mother in law. I’m come to realize that she did the best she could, just like I’m doing the best I can.
I also realized that she raised my husband. Without her, HE wouldn’t exist. And I really like HIM. So, I’m grateful to HER for giving me HIM. I realized that she can’t be all bad, if she raised such a wonderful son.
As she’s gotten older, I stopped seeing her as a threat. I stopped seeing her as a threat to my marriage or a threat to my children.
And I’ve stopped caring about things she does differently. Who cares if she has different ideas about gifts and parenting and food? Does it really matter if she thinks aspartame is a health food? She’s old and set in her ways and I’m younger, but still set in my ways. And so what if we are different? So what?? I’ve realized . . . it doesn’t matter. I can get along with people who think differently than me, I really can.
I’ve asked God to help me love her. And slowly, he’s been changing my heart. We’re still not best friends. We still have very different philosophies in many things. I’m probably not going to call her up on the phone just to chat. But, when I do see her, we can now get along. I no longer feel the need to avoid her or hide from her. I no longer dread visits with every core of my being. Slowly, slowly things are changing. And the change has mostly been in me. She hasn’t changed . . . but I have. And sometimes, you really do just need one person to change, to change a relationship.
So, this is this story of how I changed my relationship with my mother in law.
Thanks to Kendra for giving me a forum to share this message.
Here are a few of my favorite blogs (besides this one of course) . . . ones that inspire me, and I hope they will inspire you too.
This Felicitous Life
A Fly on Our Chicken Coop Wall
One Catholic Mama
Blogging is a great way to share insights and experiences. But, sometimes, as much as we'd like to start a discussion, it's not our story to share, or feelings could be hurt, or relationships damaged. So, for my guest posting series, I asked bloggers to share here, anonymously, posts they felt they couldn't put on their own blogs.
I hope you'll find them as compelling as I have.
-Kendra
I didn’t just dislike my mother-in-law. Sometimes, I actually hated her. It's hard to admit that, because hate is such an ugly word. Such an ugly emotion. However, for several years of our marriage, I actually hated my own mother-in-law.
It wasn’t always that way though. When I first met her, I liked her. I actually liked her.
But then something changed. And the change was mostly on my part. You see, I was young and impressionable when I got married. And I started reading message boards and talking to other wives and mothers, and watching horrid television sitcoms like Everybody Loves Raymond. And I started to think that I was supposed to not get along with her. I started to think that just because she had raised her babies differently than I wanted to raise mine, that we couldn’t get along. I thought that the differences in our parenting philosophies were irreconcilable. In my mind, I turned her into the hypercritical, passive-aggressive, television sitcom mother-in-law.
Oh, how foolish I was. So completely and utterly foolish.
You see . . . I was all into attachment parenting and breastfeeding and gentle discipline. And my mother in law raised her children with cribs and strict bedtimes and crying it out and bottle feeding and lots of spanking. And, I thought those differences in our parenting philosophies were more significant than they actually were. I thought she was judging me, when really I was judging her.
I would take every little thing she said or did and blow it WAY OUT OF PROPORTION in my mind to turn her into a horrible person.
For many years, I lived in dread of seeing her or talking to her on the phone. It’s not a fun way to live.
And, then slowly, slowly something changed in me. It started when I had an imagined near brush with death. And I realized that if I were to die with such hatred in my heart . . . it would not be good for my soul.
I stopped hanging out on forums and message boards where people routinely bashed their in laws. I stopped really talking to people who did the same. And I stopped watching television sitcoms about bad mother in laws.
And, I realized that I’m NOT a perfect mother. I make mistakes . . . mistakes a plenty. For all my parenting philosophy ideals, I’ve messed up. Many, many times. So, I stopped judging other mothers, especially my mother in law. I’m come to realize that she did the best she could, just like I’m doing the best I can.
I also realized that she raised my husband. Without her, HE wouldn’t exist. And I really like HIM. So, I’m grateful to HER for giving me HIM. I realized that she can’t be all bad, if she raised such a wonderful son.
As she’s gotten older, I stopped seeing her as a threat. I stopped seeing her as a threat to my marriage or a threat to my children.
And I’ve stopped caring about things she does differently. Who cares if she has different ideas about gifts and parenting and food? Does it really matter if she thinks aspartame is a health food? She’s old and set in her ways and I’m younger, but still set in my ways. And so what if we are different? So what?? I’ve realized . . . it doesn’t matter. I can get along with people who think differently than me, I really can.
I’ve asked God to help me love her. And slowly, he’s been changing my heart. We’re still not best friends. We still have very different philosophies in many things. I’m probably not going to call her up on the phone just to chat. But, when I do see her, we can now get along. I no longer feel the need to avoid her or hide from her. I no longer dread visits with every core of my being. Slowly, slowly things are changing. And the change has mostly been in me. She hasn’t changed . . . but I have. And sometimes, you really do just need one person to change, to change a relationship.
So, this is this story of how I changed my relationship with my mother in law.
Thanks to Kendra for giving me a forum to share this message.
Here are a few of my favorite blogs (besides this one of course) . . . ones that inspire me, and I hope they will inspire you too.
This Felicitous Life
A Fly on Our Chicken Coop Wall
One Catholic Mama
July 27, 2015
Four Reasons I'm NOT Boycotting the Forty Companies on that List
Planned Parenthood is yucky. I hate that they exist. I hate that they use lies and doublespeak to prey upon the most vulnerable among us (the women AND their babies). I was not one tiny bit surprised by the latest Planned Parenthood scandal. Sad, yes. But not surprised.
However. Every time there's another of these scandals, my Facebook feed fills up with calls to boycott. This time it's "Forty Companies that Donate Directly to Planned Parenthood." And, while I want Planned Parenthood to die just as much as the next gal about to give birth, (update: birth given, it was a doozy) I won't be participating in this or any other boycotts of this type.
Here's why.
1. The List Isn't Even Accurate
It's Planned Parenthood's fault . . . apparently they lie about what a baby is AND who donates to their organization. But 2nd Vote and the folks circulating their boycott are currently maligning some companies who don't deserve it. I have a problem with that. If we claim to have Truth on our side, we have a greater responsibility to get this kind of thing right.
The Daily Signal has actually contacted the companies on the list and asked them about their corporate support for Planned Parenthood. While certainly in some instances there IS direct support, in a number of cases (Xerox, Coca-Cola, Fannie Mae, American Cancer Society, and Ford Motor Co.) it flat out wasn't true. Then, for many of the companies, donations only occur as part of an employee charitable donation matching program which allows employees to donate to any approved 501(c)(3) organization.
While -again- I abhor Planned Parenthood and everything for which they stand, that seems to me like a reasonable policy for companies to have. Charitable giving is GOOD. We want people to do it. We want companies to encourage it. But if we demand that companies have moral standards for charities to which employees may contribute BEYOND just qualifying as an official charitable organization . . . well, who gets to decide what is offensive?
Frankly, I'm pretty sure that by the moral standards of most folks in most Human Resources Departments, it would be OUR preferred organizations that would get the axe, for being "intolerant."
If *I* want true freedom of conscience and freedom of religion, if *I* want to be allowed to donate to organizations that *I* deem worthy based on my personal morals . . . I have to allow others that same freedom. That's the way freedom works. That's the way free will works. Sometimes it's a stinker.
2. It Seems Hypocritical
I don't get why the personal convictions of the CEO of a major corporation are a part of my business transactions with his company. If I call to hire a guy to come fix my air conditioner, I don't ask him where he stands on gay marriage or abortion. I don't ask him about his personal charitable giving.
I NEVER do that.
But then, somehow, people think that folks who run big companies should be punished for not living out my values.
It seems inconsistent.
I get that it's absolutely horrifying to think of even one cent of my money going to support causes that I am so deeply against. But that's not what's happening here. This is me giving my money to a person or company in exchange for goods or services. Then that person or company is choosing to do as he wishes with his own money.
I'm not going to stand at the truck, giving the ice cream man a list of things on which he may not spend this two dollars I'm about to give him in exchange for a chocotaco. Right?
3. I'm Down With the Golden Rule
What really got me thinking about all of this, was way back when, when folks on the other side called for a boycott of Chick-fil-a and got the CEO of Mozilla fired. It seemed really unjust to me, that people would try to rob someone of his livelihood because they hold different beliefs . . . even on something very, very important.
I don't want to be like those guys.
I want to treat others the way I'd want to be treated.
4. I Don't Think It's the Best Way to Win Hearts and Minds
For me, it comes down to this: we DO NOT live in a culture that lives by our Catholic moral compass. We are the minority. We are missionaries in a pagan land. I honestly can't see how boycotting is our best move here.
We need to meet people who don't understand the truth with friendship. We need to engage them in conversation. We need to be understanding. We need share The Truth with them.
We should absolutely shine a light on evil that wants to hide in the darkness. But once we've done that, wouldn't we be better off fighting the evil with love and compassion, rather than threats and bullying?
This is a personal decision. You've got to inform your conscience and then follow it. I'm not here to say you must have a Pepsi in one hand and a Starbucks in the other, while eating Ben & Jerry's and Tostitos and wearing Levi's and Chuck's or the terrorists win. It's your money. All I want to suggest is that we figure out what our goals are. And then figure out if sweeping, social media-based boycotts are the best way to reach those goals. *I'm* thinking, no.
However. Every time there's another of these scandals, my Facebook feed fills up with calls to boycott. This time it's "Forty Companies that Donate Directly to Planned Parenthood." And, while I want Planned Parenthood to die just as much as the next gal about to give birth, (update: birth given, it was a doozy) I won't be participating in this or any other boycotts of this type.
Here's why.
1. The List Isn't Even Accurate
It's Planned Parenthood's fault . . . apparently they lie about what a baby is AND who donates to their organization. But 2nd Vote and the folks circulating their boycott are currently maligning some companies who don't deserve it. I have a problem with that. If we claim to have Truth on our side, we have a greater responsibility to get this kind of thing right.
The Daily Signal has actually contacted the companies on the list and asked them about their corporate support for Planned Parenthood. While certainly in some instances there IS direct support, in a number of cases (Xerox, Coca-Cola, Fannie Mae, American Cancer Society, and Ford Motor Co.) it flat out wasn't true. Then, for many of the companies, donations only occur as part of an employee charitable donation matching program which allows employees to donate to any approved 501(c)(3) organization.
While -again- I abhor Planned Parenthood and everything for which they stand, that seems to me like a reasonable policy for companies to have. Charitable giving is GOOD. We want people to do it. We want companies to encourage it. But if we demand that companies have moral standards for charities to which employees may contribute BEYOND just qualifying as an official charitable organization . . . well, who gets to decide what is offensive?
Frankly, I'm pretty sure that by the moral standards of most folks in most Human Resources Departments, it would be OUR preferred organizations that would get the axe, for being "intolerant."
If *I* want true freedom of conscience and freedom of religion, if *I* want to be allowed to donate to organizations that *I* deem worthy based on my personal morals . . . I have to allow others that same freedom. That's the way freedom works. That's the way free will works. Sometimes it's a stinker.
2. It Seems Hypocritical
I don't get why the personal convictions of the CEO of a major corporation are a part of my business transactions with his company. If I call to hire a guy to come fix my air conditioner, I don't ask him where he stands on gay marriage or abortion. I don't ask him about his personal charitable giving.
I NEVER do that.
But then, somehow, people think that folks who run big companies should be punished for not living out my values.
It seems inconsistent.
I get that it's absolutely horrifying to think of even one cent of my money going to support causes that I am so deeply against. But that's not what's happening here. This is me giving my money to a person or company in exchange for goods or services. Then that person or company is choosing to do as he wishes with his own money.
I'm not going to stand at the truck, giving the ice cream man a list of things on which he may not spend this two dollars I'm about to give him in exchange for a chocotaco. Right?
3. I'm Down With the Golden Rule
What really got me thinking about all of this, was way back when, when folks on the other side called for a boycott of Chick-fil-a and got the CEO of Mozilla fired. It seemed really unjust to me, that people would try to rob someone of his livelihood because they hold different beliefs . . . even on something very, very important.
I don't want to be like those guys.
I want to treat others the way I'd want to be treated.
4. I Don't Think It's the Best Way to Win Hearts and Minds
For me, it comes down to this: we DO NOT live in a culture that lives by our Catholic moral compass. We are the minority. We are missionaries in a pagan land. I honestly can't see how boycotting is our best move here.
We need to meet people who don't understand the truth with friendship. We need to engage them in conversation. We need to be understanding. We need share The Truth with them.
We should absolutely shine a light on evil that wants to hide in the darkness. But once we've done that, wouldn't we be better off fighting the evil with love and compassion, rather than threats and bullying?
This is a personal decision. You've got to inform your conscience and then follow it. I'm not here to say you must have a Pepsi in one hand and a Starbucks in the other, while eating Ben & Jerry's and Tostitos and wearing Levi's and Chuck's or the terrorists win. It's your money. All I want to suggest is that we figure out what our goals are. And then figure out if sweeping, social media-based boycotts are the best way to reach those goals. *I'm* thinking, no.
July 26, 2015
Answer Me This: Ice Cream and the End (for now . . .)
Hiya, and welcome to this summer's FINAL edition of Answer Me This, the internet's favorite virtual cocktail party, where we all answer the same six random questions and get to know each other a little better. If you've always want to play along, now's your chance!
1. What's your favorite grocery store splurge?
I FEEL like I'm not super picky about groceries. I used to buy all organic, but I'm no longer convinced that buying organic is worth how much more it costs to buy. Now I just buy lots of whatever fruits and veggies are on sale and mostly remember to rinse them before we eat them. I do still try to buy stuff with real sugar. Except for Dr. Pepper. He gets a free pass.
I guess my main splurge is toilet paper. I really think that's a product where you notice if you buy the really cheap stuff.
2. How's your penmanship?
My penmanship is not great. I love looking at the beautiful hand lettering that folks like Carolyn and Erica do. I do NOT have those skills.
The thing I write out by hand most often is shopping lists, and if I wrote it in a hurry, I'm probably the only one who'll be able to decipher it.
3. Do you have a "Summer Bucket List?"
No. Probably I should have. When I don't put things down on the calendar or a list of some sort, they just really don't get past the nebulous, "Hey we should . . . "stage.
I've had the good excuse of being awfully pregnant this summer.
But aside from getting the kids to camp and going to the beach a couple times (so I could catch up on my correspondence), we've had a mostly just hanging out-type summer.
I could make the case that it's because I want to encourage self-discovery and unstructured playtime for my kids. But, really, it's because I just didn't feel like going any where.
I might be able to handle Kelly's.
4. What's the best thing on the radio right now?
A couple of summers ago, I got what I think we'd have to call "super-ranty" about the inappropriateness of the hit pop songs that year.
THIS year, I'm just . . . I just don't . . . I'm . . . I don't know WHAT to think.
They are SO catchy. They are so fun. They actually have pretty good messages. But those messages are expressed in such a way that my twenty month old's verbal repertoire now includes "Shuh up, dance." "Got baah bluh." and "Hah damn."
But I love them still. Here's why I do . . . and why I maybe shouldn't.
Shut Up and Dance
Pro: The video is hilariously early eighties MTV -- brilliant, and the song itself is very True Love. He's not "up all night to get lucky," like SOME songs, this woman is his "destiny," they were "born to get together." It's all very sweet. AND catchy.Con: We don't say "shut up" in our family. At least we didn't used to.Honey I'm Good
Pro: It's the near occasion of sin theme song. It, in the toe-tappingest way you can imagine, reminds us that love is a decision. That monogamy must be guarded. That that one more drink could mean that hearts and vows are broken. Seriously, this song features capital T Truth.Con: It also features Mr. Grammer calling the young lady from whom he is ostensibly guarding himself "honey" and remarking on her legs and ass. Not very gentlemanly. Dear Future Husband
Pro: I cannot get enough of the doo-wop vibe Meghan Trainor brings. When girl says she can write a hook, she's not kidding. And this song gets a lot right about commitment, and how a lady should be treated by her beloved. It's even okay with me that she doesn't want to cook, that's not the only way a wife can take care of her husband.Con: There's a secret inappropriate almost rhyme in there that my kids wouldn't get, thankfully, but *I* do, and Ms. Trainor seems to be under the mistaken impression that wives should barter sex for the good behavior of their husbands. St. JPII would disagree.
5. Ice cream or frozen yogurt?
Yes, please.
I like both.
But my favorite, favorite is "tart" flavor frozen yogurt. The husband does NOT get it. It makes him say this to me:
6. Have you had that baby NOW? (Again, you can skip this one if you want.)
Yes!
And it was a doozy. Read all about it.
We're back home now, getting to know her!
Here are some more photos . . .
Thanks so much to all of you who linked up and played along in the comments these past two months. So fun! We'll do it again sometime.
An InLinkz Link-up
1. What's your favorite grocery store splurge?
I FEEL like I'm not super picky about groceries. I used to buy all organic, but I'm no longer convinced that buying organic is worth how much more it costs to buy. Now I just buy lots of whatever fruits and veggies are on sale and mostly remember to rinse them before we eat them. I do still try to buy stuff with real sugar. Except for Dr. Pepper. He gets a free pass.
I guess my main splurge is toilet paper. I really think that's a product where you notice if you buy the really cheap stuff.
2. How's your penmanship?
My penmanship is not great. I love looking at the beautiful hand lettering that folks like Carolyn and Erica do. I do NOT have those skills.
The thing I write out by hand most often is shopping lists, and if I wrote it in a hurry, I'm probably the only one who'll be able to decipher it.
3. Do you have a "Summer Bucket List?"
No. Probably I should have. When I don't put things down on the calendar or a list of some sort, they just really don't get past the nebulous, "Hey we should . . . "stage.
I've had the good excuse of being awfully pregnant this summer.
But aside from getting the kids to camp and going to the beach a couple times (so I could catch up on my correspondence), we've had a mostly just hanging out-type summer.
I could make the case that it's because I want to encourage self-discovery and unstructured playtime for my kids. But, really, it's because I just didn't feel like going any where.
I might be able to handle Kelly's.
4. What's the best thing on the radio right now?
A couple of summers ago, I got what I think we'd have to call "super-ranty" about the inappropriateness of the hit pop songs that year.
THIS year, I'm just . . . I just don't . . . I'm . . . I don't know WHAT to think.
They are SO catchy. They are so fun. They actually have pretty good messages. But those messages are expressed in such a way that my twenty month old's verbal repertoire now includes "Shuh up, dance." "Got baah bluh." and "Hah damn."
But I love them still. Here's why I do . . . and why I maybe shouldn't.
Shut Up and Dance
Pro: The video is hilariously early eighties MTV -- brilliant, and the song itself is very True Love. He's not "up all night to get lucky," like SOME songs, this woman is his "destiny," they were "born to get together." It's all very sweet. AND catchy.Con: We don't say "shut up" in our family. At least we didn't used to.Honey I'm Good
Pro: It's the near occasion of sin theme song. It, in the toe-tappingest way you can imagine, reminds us that love is a decision. That monogamy must be guarded. That that one more drink could mean that hearts and vows are broken. Seriously, this song features capital T Truth.Con: It also features Mr. Grammer calling the young lady from whom he is ostensibly guarding himself "honey" and remarking on her legs and ass. Not very gentlemanly. Dear Future Husband
Pro: I cannot get enough of the doo-wop vibe Meghan Trainor brings. When girl says she can write a hook, she's not kidding. And this song gets a lot right about commitment, and how a lady should be treated by her beloved. It's even okay with me that she doesn't want to cook, that's not the only way a wife can take care of her husband.Con: There's a secret inappropriate almost rhyme in there that my kids wouldn't get, thankfully, but *I* do, and Ms. Trainor seems to be under the mistaken impression that wives should barter sex for the good behavior of their husbands. St. JPII would disagree.
5. Ice cream or frozen yogurt?
Yes, please.
I like both.
But my favorite, favorite is "tart" flavor frozen yogurt. The husband does NOT get it. It makes him say this to me:
6. Have you had that baby NOW? (Again, you can skip this one if you want.)
Yes!
And it was a doozy. Read all about it.
We're back home now, getting to know her!
Here are some more photos . . .
Thanks so much to all of you who linked up and played along in the comments these past two months. So fun! We'll do it again sometime.
An InLinkz Link-up
July 25, 2015
Well, THAT Escalated Quickly . . .
Just going to pop in quickly here to introduce you to the newest member of the family . . . Mary Jane Tierney.
She was born at 3:08am this morning, July 25th, her due date, the Feast of St. James. 8lbs 3oz, 21 inches long, not much hair to speak of. Looks exactly like the rest of them.And . . . she was accidentally born at home.
I went in for a checkup last Tuesday and was already at a five, and I'd been having a lot of tightness over the course of the week, so I figured things might go quickly. But I had no idea it would go THAT quickly.I was finishing up some stuff on the computer at 1am when I thought MAYBE that was a contraction, but I wasn't sure so I decided to try to get some sleep and see if it was the real thing. I woke up at 2:19am and knew that was a real one. So I got up, put some chargers and whatnot into my hospital bag. Had another one. Thought maybe I'd curl my hair to have something to do. Had another one. Decided to forgo hair curling.At about 2:40am, I woke Jim up, and told him that the contractions were really short, but really close together. He got dressed and got Betty up, and we were ready to head for the car at a little before 3am. But by this time, I was walking back and forth in the kitchen having long contractions, close together.
And they were the loud kind. I was thinking back to my other births, especially Lulu's and how we had joked around in the car and sang What Does the Fox Say on the way to the hospital, and I knew I was WAY past that. I had had maybe eight contractions total? But I just knew we weren't going to be able to make the 15 minute drive to the hospital.I marched back to our room and headed into the bathroom. Jim followed me, and I told him I think we needed to have the baby here. He was pretty shocked, but he's good in a crisis. We were trying to figure out for sure what to do when my water broke, which, for me, means this is happening RIGHT NOW.I got into the empty tub on my hands and knees, and Jim was there, ready to catch the baby, but I was scared to push with the first contraction. I gave myself a little pep talk, and pushed on the next one, and out came the head. Then, there was a lull of like a minute where I didn't have another contraction, and the baby's head was just there, frowning at Jim. The rest of her was born with one more push on the next contraction. And it was a girl, our Mary Jane.
Jim went to go get Betty, who had been patiently waiting in the kitchen for us to all go to the hospital! The placenta was still in there, and Mary Jane was still attached to it, so I couldn't pass her off to anyone. But we filled up the tub and got ourselves warmed up and cleaned off.
I held her and Betty washed her, while Jim called the OB and my parents.It was a good forty minutes later that the placenta was birthed, and THAT made a real mess of things. Yuck. Until then, the whole experience had been rather tidy. Anyway, we put the still-attached-to-Mary Jane placenta in a bag, rinsed off again, wrapped up in a robe and a couple towels, and headed over to the hospital.
Betty went back to bed.My OB met us there, checked me over, and put in a couple of stitches. Mary Jane got checked over and was deemed practically perfect in every way.
My parents and the rest of the kids (except Jack, who is on his way back from Boy Scout Camp on Catalina Island today!) came by to meet her at about 7am, and she was a big hit with everyone.
And now, my folks took the kids home, Jim is meeting our realtor at a house we were supposed to go see this morning, and Mary Jane and I are chillin' all alone in our hospital room and looking forward to a well-earned nap, before we try to get all the tests and paperwork finished so we can sleep at home tonight.It was a crazy, fast experience, but in retrospect, it really did all go beautifully. I have been praying for your intentions all week. Thank you for entrusting them to me. For now, I'm going to offer my frustration with bossy nurses and dumb hospital policies for you. Dealing with those is much harder for me than giving birth anyway. ;0)
-------------And now . . . the winners of the Baby Pool!You guys were good. Twenty four people guessed that she would be a girl born on the 25th, and a few of you were REALLY spot on. Many of you guessed her name!I decided to just randomly select five winners from all the best guesses. And here they are:1. Rachel of The Hardest Job I'll Ever Love (She got four out of six guesses exactly right!)2. Amelia of One Catholic Mama (Who I'm almost positive has won a different giveaway on this blog too. But that's allowed.)3. Abby S. (Who is Lulu's Godmother, but that's also allowed.)4. Jessica Lambert5. BetkaCheck out the original post for pictures and details, but the fabulous prizes are:1. From , A Missal for Little Ones
, and Let's Pray the Rosary
.4. From Michele Chronister, of My Domestic Monastery: A digital copy of the book Rosaries Aren't Just For Teething, featuring reflections by ten of your favorite Catholic mom bloggers on the subject of Mary. 5. And from ME, if I can get my act together to mail it out to you, one of the spare baby blankets . . . so that the baby of your choice can be twinsies with my baby and his or her cousins. And a signed copy of MY book, A Little Book about Confession for Children
which now FINALLY has an Imprimatur. (It's a slow church.) I TOLD you guys it wasn't heretical.To claim your prize, please email me at catholicallyear@gmail.com with your name and mailing address. In the email please put the five available prizes in order of your preference. Hopefully everyone will get something she actually wants!If I haven't heard from you by Wednesday, I'll award the prize to a new winner.Thanks to everyone for your love and prayers and support.(Sorry for the weird formatting. This is why I don't usually blog from my iPad in a hospital room. :P)
She was born at 3:08am this morning, July 25th, her due date, the Feast of St. James. 8lbs 3oz, 21 inches long, not much hair to speak of. Looks exactly like the rest of them.And . . . she was accidentally born at home.
I went in for a checkup last Tuesday and was already at a five, and I'd been having a lot of tightness over the course of the week, so I figured things might go quickly. But I had no idea it would go THAT quickly.I was finishing up some stuff on the computer at 1am when I thought MAYBE that was a contraction, but I wasn't sure so I decided to try to get some sleep and see if it was the real thing. I woke up at 2:19am and knew that was a real one. So I got up, put some chargers and whatnot into my hospital bag. Had another one. Thought maybe I'd curl my hair to have something to do. Had another one. Decided to forgo hair curling.At about 2:40am, I woke Jim up, and told him that the contractions were really short, but really close together. He got dressed and got Betty up, and we were ready to head for the car at a little before 3am. But by this time, I was walking back and forth in the kitchen having long contractions, close together.
And they were the loud kind. I was thinking back to my other births, especially Lulu's and how we had joked around in the car and sang What Does the Fox Say on the way to the hospital, and I knew I was WAY past that. I had had maybe eight contractions total? But I just knew we weren't going to be able to make the 15 minute drive to the hospital.I marched back to our room and headed into the bathroom. Jim followed me, and I told him I think we needed to have the baby here. He was pretty shocked, but he's good in a crisis. We were trying to figure out for sure what to do when my water broke, which, for me, means this is happening RIGHT NOW.I got into the empty tub on my hands and knees, and Jim was there, ready to catch the baby, but I was scared to push with the first contraction. I gave myself a little pep talk, and pushed on the next one, and out came the head. Then, there was a lull of like a minute where I didn't have another contraction, and the baby's head was just there, frowning at Jim. The rest of her was born with one more push on the next contraction. And it was a girl, our Mary Jane.
Jim went to go get Betty, who had been patiently waiting in the kitchen for us to all go to the hospital! The placenta was still in there, and Mary Jane was still attached to it, so I couldn't pass her off to anyone. But we filled up the tub and got ourselves warmed up and cleaned off.
I held her and Betty washed her, while Jim called the OB and my parents.It was a good forty minutes later that the placenta was birthed, and THAT made a real mess of things. Yuck. Until then, the whole experience had been rather tidy. Anyway, we put the still-attached-to-Mary Jane placenta in a bag, rinsed off again, wrapped up in a robe and a couple towels, and headed over to the hospital.
Betty went back to bed.My OB met us there, checked me over, and put in a couple of stitches. Mary Jane got checked over and was deemed practically perfect in every way.
My parents and the rest of the kids (except Jack, who is on his way back from Boy Scout Camp on Catalina Island today!) came by to meet her at about 7am, and she was a big hit with everyone.
And now, my folks took the kids home, Jim is meeting our realtor at a house we were supposed to go see this morning, and Mary Jane and I are chillin' all alone in our hospital room and looking forward to a well-earned nap, before we try to get all the tests and paperwork finished so we can sleep at home tonight.It was a crazy, fast experience, but in retrospect, it really did all go beautifully. I have been praying for your intentions all week. Thank you for entrusting them to me. For now, I'm going to offer my frustration with bossy nurses and dumb hospital policies for you. Dealing with those is much harder for me than giving birth anyway. ;0)
-------------And now . . . the winners of the Baby Pool!You guys were good. Twenty four people guessed that she would be a girl born on the 25th, and a few of you were REALLY spot on. Many of you guessed her name!I decided to just randomly select five winners from all the best guesses. And here they are:1. Rachel of The Hardest Job I'll Ever Love (She got four out of six guesses exactly right!)2. Amelia of One Catholic Mama (Who I'm almost positive has won a different giveaway on this blog too. But that's allowed.)3. Abby S. (Who is Lulu's Godmother, but that's also allowed.)4. Jessica Lambert5. BetkaCheck out the original post for pictures and details, but the fabulous prizes are:1. From , A Missal for Little Ones
, and Let's Pray the Rosary .4. From Michele Chronister, of My Domestic Monastery: A digital copy of the book Rosaries Aren't Just For Teething, featuring reflections by ten of your favorite Catholic mom bloggers on the subject of Mary. 5. And from ME, if I can get my act together to mail it out to you, one of the spare baby blankets . . . so that the baby of your choice can be twinsies with my baby and his or her cousins. And a signed copy of MY book, A Little Book about Confession for Children which now FINALLY has an Imprimatur. (It's a slow church.) I TOLD you guys it wasn't heretical.To claim your prize, please email me at catholicallyear@gmail.com with your name and mailing address. In the email please put the five available prizes in order of your preference. Hopefully everyone will get something she actually wants!If I haven't heard from you by Wednesday, I'll award the prize to a new winner.Thanks to everyone for your love and prayers and support.(Sorry for the weird formatting. This is why I don't usually blog from my iPad in a hospital room. :P)July 23, 2015
Maybe We CAN'T Talk About NFP Without Giving Offense
It's NFP awareness week. A quick glance at my header will tell you where the husband and I fall on the ol' sliding scale of fertility/NFP competency (but just in case it's: high/low). This is a mommy blog. This is a Catholic blog. This is the PERFECT place to be able to talk about all of this stuff . . . the blessing part and the cross part of ALL of it: NFP and babies and kids and hyperfertility and infertility and miscarriage and everything that goes along with Catholic womanhood.
But it's not easy.
Because some folks (like me) have plenty of babies and can't NFP themselves out of a paper bag, but mostly feel equipped to handle a big family.
Some folks struggle to be successful with NFP but have grave reasons for postponing pregnancy.
Some folks can easily use NFP to space pregnancies.
Some folks celebrate practicing NFP as almost a religion unto itself.
Some folk appreciate NFP because they've used it to successfully become pregnant.
Some folks have an open heart and open arms but fewer children than they'd like or no living babies at all.
And most of these situations are hard. Some are REALLY hard. Some are really really hard and feel exactly opposite of each other. So how can I talk about MY specific struggles while at the same time acknowledging and validating all other possible experiences?
I don't think I can. I don't think it's possible. And I think it would make for really uninspiring and watered-down blog posts.
I actually said this to a fertile friend after Mass last week: "Ya know, I'm not actually feeling all that protective of my uterus anymore. If something happened to it, I don't think it would be the end of the world." If I say that on this blog, it will be seen by folks who could totally relate. But it will also be seen someone who has had procedures and surgeries and medications in the hopes of somehow getting her uterus to hold onto a pregnancy.
Maybe she will be hurt and offended.
So where does my responsibility lie?
Well, in addition to pregnancy and babies and fertility, I've also had the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy on the brain lately. And I THINK therein lies the answer.
The Spiritual Works of Mercy are as follows . . .
Admonish the sinner Instruct the ignorant Counsel the doubtful Comfort the sorrowful Bear wrongs patiently Forgive all injuries Pray for the living and the dead
for the corporal works of mercy printable, see this post
As a blog writer and a Facebook-sharer and a person who also sometimes interacts in conversation with real live people, I have a responsibility to "comfort the sorrowful." That means I need to be aware as I share my experiences from my side of the fertility spectrum, that there are folks on the other side. (And, frankly, I'm convinced it's WAY more sorrowful over there.) I can share my perspective (and really that's the ONLY one *I* can share) but I should avoid generalizations and probably try not to be flip.
But. As a blog reader and a social media participator and a conversation-haver, I also have responsibilities. I am required to "bear wrongs patiently" and "forgive all injuries." The way *I* read that, it means it's not the responsibility of people coming from another perspective to not offend me. It's MY responsibility to not BE offended.
There's nothing in there that says "Discuss only what is agreed upon by all," or "Tip toe around the easily offended."
So if I read something from someone else, who has found NFP to be a breeze, or who thinks no one should do NFP ever, or who thinks everyone should do NFP always, I need to understand that HER perspective isn't the same as mine, because her experiences aren't the same as mine.
The fact that I read it . . . and it stings a bit, doesn't mean it shouldn't be allowed to exist in the world. It doesn't mean it's not a valid perspective. It doesn't mean that she shouldn't get to create community around her experience.
It just means that God made us different. And that *I* just got an opportunity to grow in virtue.
Happy NFP Awareness Week, ya'll.
Here are some of my other posts about NFP:
WHY I DON'T DO NFPDEAR NEWLYWED, YOU'RE PROBABLY WORRIED ABOUT THE WRONG THINGMailbag: Do I Still Have to do NFP if My Life is at Risk? why I DON'T use birth control: an NFP Awareness Week Wrap UpAnd another one on a related topic:
Opting Out of Mommy Angst in Three Easy Steps
But it's not easy.
Because some folks (like me) have plenty of babies and can't NFP themselves out of a paper bag, but mostly feel equipped to handle a big family.
Some folks struggle to be successful with NFP but have grave reasons for postponing pregnancy.
Some folks can easily use NFP to space pregnancies.
Some folks celebrate practicing NFP as almost a religion unto itself.
Some folk appreciate NFP because they've used it to successfully become pregnant.
Some folks have an open heart and open arms but fewer children than they'd like or no living babies at all.
And most of these situations are hard. Some are REALLY hard. Some are really really hard and feel exactly opposite of each other. So how can I talk about MY specific struggles while at the same time acknowledging and validating all other possible experiences?
I don't think I can. I don't think it's possible. And I think it would make for really uninspiring and watered-down blog posts.
I actually said this to a fertile friend after Mass last week: "Ya know, I'm not actually feeling all that protective of my uterus anymore. If something happened to it, I don't think it would be the end of the world." If I say that on this blog, it will be seen by folks who could totally relate. But it will also be seen someone who has had procedures and surgeries and medications in the hopes of somehow getting her uterus to hold onto a pregnancy.
Maybe she will be hurt and offended.
So where does my responsibility lie?
Well, in addition to pregnancy and babies and fertility, I've also had the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy on the brain lately. And I THINK therein lies the answer.
The Spiritual Works of Mercy are as follows . . .
Admonish the sinner Instruct the ignorant Counsel the doubtful Comfort the sorrowful Bear wrongs patiently Forgive all injuries Pray for the living and the dead
for the corporal works of mercy printable, see this postAs a blog writer and a Facebook-sharer and a person who also sometimes interacts in conversation with real live people, I have a responsibility to "comfort the sorrowful." That means I need to be aware as I share my experiences from my side of the fertility spectrum, that there are folks on the other side. (And, frankly, I'm convinced it's WAY more sorrowful over there.) I can share my perspective (and really that's the ONLY one *I* can share) but I should avoid generalizations and probably try not to be flip.
But. As a blog reader and a social media participator and a conversation-haver, I also have responsibilities. I am required to "bear wrongs patiently" and "forgive all injuries." The way *I* read that, it means it's not the responsibility of people coming from another perspective to not offend me. It's MY responsibility to not BE offended.
There's nothing in there that says "Discuss only what is agreed upon by all," or "Tip toe around the easily offended."
So if I read something from someone else, who has found NFP to be a breeze, or who thinks no one should do NFP ever, or who thinks everyone should do NFP always, I need to understand that HER perspective isn't the same as mine, because her experiences aren't the same as mine.
The fact that I read it . . . and it stings a bit, doesn't mean it shouldn't be allowed to exist in the world. It doesn't mean it's not a valid perspective. It doesn't mean that she shouldn't get to create community around her experience.
It just means that God made us different. And that *I* just got an opportunity to grow in virtue.
Happy NFP Awareness Week, ya'll.
Here are some of my other posts about NFP:
WHY I DON'T DO NFPDEAR NEWLYWED, YOU'RE PROBABLY WORRIED ABOUT THE WRONG THINGMailbag: Do I Still Have to do NFP if My Life is at Risk? why I DON'T use birth control: an NFP Awareness Week Wrap UpAnd another one on a related topic:
Opting Out of Mommy Angst in Three Easy Steps
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