Quick update

There's the post-op patient making a silly face. And the cute little guy actually awake! That pic was taken on Saturday of last week, some 30 hours after surgery.

Since I last updated you, we went to Seattle to have the stitches removed this past Thursday afternoon. Not a great time for traveling to and from Seattle, it made for a long, late night. But, everything looked good and I got to see Tom in some really cool shorts made of paper. :)

His patience with recovery is beginning to wear thin. Yesterday he was pretty down. Bored, frustrated, in pain.



Eve seems to be losing patience as well. Today she told my mom that she wanted to spend the night there again (second night in a row) because daddy is busy playing video games and mama is busy giving Peanut nummy nums.

Friday as I was fighting her to get her strapped into her carseat, she was totally uncooperative. It went through my mind that the way she was acting really motivated me to spank her hand to just get her to stop for a minute. the rational side of me of course knew that she wouldn't stop, she'd go farther into hysteria.

Just as I was thinking all this and telling her she needed to turn so I could get the strap over her shoulder, and physically attempting to help her do so, she wound up and slapped me so hard in the face that it didn't stop hurting for 30 minutes. my reaction was immediate, I gasped and smacked her right back. Angry and more angry at my reaction, I told her it was completely unacceptable to hit me, and then stepped back to say how angry I was, and take a few breaths. I had peanut in the wrap, and was driving Tom's beast of a van (because mine is having transmission problems), so the whole thing was more difficult to begin with. I was at a low level of frustration all day due to Eve's behaviors and having to drive this van, and because on our way to our errand I'd hit every red light possible, and Peanut cried hard whenever we weren't moving.

Ugh. I'm so frustrated with myself for that reaction. I felt terrible after I did it. And yet still really angry at her, and still wanting to do some sort of more correct discipline to teach her that hitting me is not okay. I did tell her it wasn't okay for me to hit her either, and I asked her forgiveness.

I'm definitely feeling somewhat hopeless. My only consolation is she hadn't had a nap and was more tired than usual. So, maybe her bad behavior was due to that more than anything, but she kind of woke up on the wrong side of bed that day anyway. Sigh. I know it's been tough for her to deal with Tom being chair-bound and mostly glued to the TV (I am not a fan of having a TV in our living room, but since Tom isn't much of a reader, it was important that we have something to keep him entertained. So he watched TV, movies, and plays the borrowed Xbox 360 his brother loaned us. And tends to tune everything else out, Eve included. And I've been just feeling haggard and busy, and part of the reason I hate the TV is because I get sucked in and distracted myself. And for the past few days, Peanut has been on a growth spurt and nursing a ton more.

I definitely need to show her some grace.

I'm a slacker

I admit it. I even slack on my slacking. Here's the thing, there's just so much to do during my "free time" that I simply can't keep up. I'm actually reading a novel. And you know how that can get--I'll just finish this page...uh, section...uh, chapter...and then I'll do the dishes (or, thank you cards :)) and all of a sudden, I'm halfway through the next chapter. So I chose not to even pick it up today. But having neglected my email and blogs and whatnot, I think I'm running short on time now anyway. So we'll just see how far we get.

I am going to just stick to the birth story in this post, and probably post later today (I hope) on family updates and that long forgotten subject I was so fond of before Israel...discipline, specifically of the toddler variety.

So, last time, I left myself laboring on the bed.

It was as I was staring at the mattress during or between a contraction that I had some, well, not very natural birthy thoughts. I thought...maybe I could just ask for a c-section...and, I bet the fact that I really feel like asking for drugs right now means that it's too late to get them anyway. I am pretty sure I kept these thoughts to myself. I never really wanted the drugs, because I kept telling myself that it's not as bad as it could possibly get. I'd only want drugs if it got the worst it was going to get...but I knew I didn't want drugs, period. Does any of that even make sense? The c-section on the other hand? Well, now that I've witnessed Tom's post-op discomfort from arthroscopic hip surgery, I'm pretty sure major abdominal surgery recovery is way more than I want to endure, pain-wise. But I was so concerned (that is, ahem, frightened) about a repeat of the pain I'd had from recovering from the episiotomy I'd had when Eve was born (and rightly so) that I genuinely thought I'd rather have a c-section. At least, that's what the irrational, emotional side of me wanted. The rational side who wrote my birth plan and went in to natural birth with eye's wide open, of course said, no, which is why I remained silent.

I took a potty break and had to endure a double peaking contraction with no one putting counter pressure on my back. That was kind of a tough one.

When I came back out I switched to the birth ball.



and labored there until I started to feel pushy...not full blown pushing, just a little at the peak of each contraction. At that point, there was enough pressure, that I had to stand up off the ball during contractions.

In between I would relax...totally. Good thing Ashia was behind me. :)



grrr...hated those straps.

Here's an interesting shot...you can see the shape of the baby on the lower left (your right) of my belly. Weird.



Transition was kind of, well, a blur. I don't remember anything really distinct about it. I had a general feeling of being sick...but not really intense, not like I was going to throw up at any moment or anything. And then I was sort of all of a sudden feeling that pushy at the peak feeling I mentioned.

Here's my awesome doctor checking up on me. He did chastise me a teensy bit for not coming in over the possibly broken water concern, but that just meant no checking, which was fine. He came in once early in order to officially admit me, but after I was on the ball, and then when I was feeling pushy. I'm pretty sure that's a picture of that second visit, he stayed. Everything seemed to happen quickly. That's really a good thing as far as I'm concerned.



So the first and only time I was checked was by my doc and at the point where I felt like pushing. All I had to do was roll forward on the ball...no forcing me back into the bed or anything awful like that.

My water broke as I was being checked. The doc told me not to push for the next few contractions because I was a very...I think he used the word floppy...9...but the very next contraction after my water broke was so intense, and I had such an overwhelming urge to push, that through the next two contractions I kind of screamed (more than kind of, I think) "I'm trying not to push! I can't help it!" at which point I would groan trying not to push but pushing anyway. After the second contraction like that, the doctor told me to relax and not worry about it and just push when I felt like it.

What a relief!

So, Kim saw that I wasn't comfortable during contractions on the ball, and since I was pushing they kind of asked what I wanted to do. I was pretty out of it, as far as conversation goes, so I just repeated that I didn't care as long as I didn't have to lay down.

Kim asked the doc if it was okay if I labored on the birth stool, and he was cool with it (isn't that awesome?! I told you!) as long as I turned around so he had room to get to me. So, between contractions, I turned and was switched, and at this point had a new nurse named Patti--who was totally great for all the reasons Mary was not. She was just what I needed, quiet and patient and encouraging.

I don't think I pushed very long, I think it was very few contractions, but the specifics like how many pushing contractions I had, or how many were on the birth stool are fuzzy.

The doctor was patient and quiet, and the baby's heart rate stayed great the whole time, unlike Eve, which at the time I thought meant we were golden.

I now know I never got to the really painful crowning part of pushing with Eve. They vacuumed her out as she was just beginning to crown. My memories of pushing with Eve is that it was a welcome relief after the intense, right-on-top-of-another contractions of transition.

This time around, I was really surprised by the pain. It was so much worse than I expected, and seemed to last so much longer. I guess I was expecting it only to be painful right before the head came all the way out. I was wrong. It hurt from the moment the baby started to crown and only felt better after the head was out. I know I said, "I don't know why I liked this part so much before." and, "This really hurts" and other such exclamations of surprise.

Kim made sure I touched the baby's head once just as he was beginning to crown. It was an important thing to me as I was planning for the birth, but when I was right there in it, I really didn't want to do it. Not so much because I didn't want to touch his head, but because it was a lot more comfortable to simply leave my hands where they were, bracing me and keeping me upright. Kim was firm though. :)

After I got his head more than half out, I had to keep pushing to get his chin out, at which point things got...less smooth.

The doctor was, again, very patient, but very firm in his instructions to me. The cord was very tight around Israel's neck, and the doc couldn't unloop it because it was too short. So, he cut the cord while baby was still mostly inside, and then he had me push, I think when I wasn't having a contraction, in order to get the baby all the way out. Israel paused kind of at his middle, and then slid out into the doctor's arms.

Did I mention that the doctor was on the floor in front of me? Yeah, he spread out some pads and pulled his table over and sat on the floor in front of the stool.



That shot is during crowning.

So, there's baby in the doc's lap, and he's suctioning baby and trying to stimulate him and I notice a few things:

Israel looks huge and his body is blue and his head is purple. And, he's really floppy.

I was feeling really great about how all of labor and delivery went, and kind of waiting to see what would happen, but I think I knew right away I wasn't going to have the baby handed to me. I think part of it was I couldn't just have him set on me, I was sitting upright completely, not reclining, and no where to recline to. This went through my head as I recalled my conversation with the doctor in which he said unless the baby was in really rough shape, and not at all responsive, he would give mom the baby and do what needed doing right there. But after half a minute or so during which I encouraged Israel, the doc struggled to stand up with the rolling cart beside him and the baby in his arms.

Israel was whisked away to the crash cart just as Eve had been, except Eve had been pink and crying.

You already know that the end of the story is a healthy little boy, but it was pretty scary at the time. I knew that if this doc took the baby, it was serious.

Tom says it took Israel 5 minutes to begin breathing on his own. So I figure it was at least 7 minutes from the time his cord was cut.



It was pretty awful as they transferred me to the bed to not hear my baby cry. I kept waiting for it, but it never came. And I did start to flip out and cry. It never really entered my mind that he wouldn't live, but I was pretty concerned that he would have brain damage, and just really upset that I couldn't hold him and bond with him and see him.

Tom, on the other hand, as he watched them bag him so his little chest would inflate and deflate, kept expecting the doc to turn to him and say, "I'm sorry." Poor Tom. No wonder he tells me he doesn't want to be in the labor and delivery room. And no wonder he says I have a lot of work to do to convince him to have another. I'll leave that in God's hands, because it will be quite a while before I'm ready for another anyway, and God can change Tom's heart and mind--I really don't have that kind of power.

After about 10 minutes they felt Israel was stable enough to move to the nursery, Tom held him up to me so I could see him and touch his face. It was so hard to just lay there as they took him away.



In my preparation for birth, and in all my prayers for specifics of the birth to go well, I did always ask that Israel come safely and healthy, but it never really entered my mind that his situation could be worse than Eve's. I just assumed he'd be okay, and with his heart rate so good the whole time (even after the cord was cut) I couldn't imagine there'd be anything that would keep him from being in my arms right away. I suppose that will be a big topic of my preparation and prayers for number 3 (if that happens).

In the end, he was safe and healthy. Both my doctor and the baby's doctor told me that all his stats were great, blood oxygen level and heart rate included, he just wouldn't breath.

I think that's more than enough for one post. Stay tuned for post-baby details.

Another installment, but not the finale

So, Today was most certainly Peanut's roughest day. He actually cried because he was hungry. Except when I've deliberately put him off (I know, bad mama!) he's never cried when he's hungry. Today it seemed like he cried every darn time he wanted to nurse. I guess I didn't realize I was missing his early signals. I don't think I was that busy today.

I also finished writing the complaint letter to the hospital. I hope it comes across as reasonable rather than over-the-top dramatic and that it's not written off as just the result of postpartum emotionalism.

Complaint letter? Oh yeah. We'll get to that. That is kind of post-birth so we'll talk about that later.

Tom's doing well. He's expiramenting with not being on the meds constantly. This is giving him some painful moments, but it's definitely helped him get up a bit more and move around since he's not so light-headed and sleepy.

More labor story...

So the car ride wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. When I was in labor with Eve Tom packed some towels onto the front seat and I sat up there like I always would, but it was excruciatingly painful. One of my friends has shared with me that having been through labor, she now knows it's going to be pretty tough and has aprehension about it. Not me, I felt confident I could do it, and felt more like "bring it on--except the car ride." It's only a 10 minute drive or so from home to the hospital, and the first time around, it was one of the worst 10 minutes of my life.

This time, Kim rode with us, and her and I were stashed in the back among the luggage, me on a pile of blankets, and Kim rubbing my back during contractions. There was a great air vent right up by my face, which was soooo welcome. I hardly wanted to get out, quite honestly.

Based on some recorded times from Kim's notes on the labor, I think we got to the hospital right around 1 P.M.



If only there were some flattering pictures of me at this point in pregnancy. Anyway. Notice the orange skirt...and the orange drink in that water bottle! It was watered down Tang, and I drank quite a bit of it during labor. I've never been a big Tang fan, but it seemed like a good idea to drink something besides water to keep my electrolytes up as well as my energy. Now I've decided Tang's not so bad.



I'm all about fixing up those triceps....



There is where all the magic happens. ;-)

I started out having to fight with the Labor and Delivery nurse, Mary. Not my favorite person in the world. I wasn't sure what it was I didn't like about her. She was too perky, and a little condescending--treating me like a child rather than an adult. I know some people like that from a nurse, but I really only want my mom to treat me like that, and then only when I'm ill. Labor is not illness. And the perkiness, well, I like perky waitresses. A loud and overly cheerful person who's forcing Electronic Fetal Monitoring on me while I suffer bouts of intense pain is just not welcome. After a discussion with a friend who's also had this nurse during labor, she clarified for me a better explanation for why Mary bugged me. She is just plain fake. So...altogether, I wasn't happy with this nurse. However, I'm sure it could have been worse. I could have arrived much earlier in labor, or the old policy of the nurse checking dilation could have been in effect. Thank God for small blessings.

I labored first on the bed, with the back raised as high as it would go, on my hands and knees using the head of the bed for support.

I am, again, running short on time, so this will have to do. More later!

Pre-Israel

Well, I now have the pictures that Kim took of the birth in digital form, so we can finish off the birth story, but I have less than 10 minutes here, so instead of more birth story, you get some pre-birth pics.

Family photo:



I think this was about a week before Israel arrived.

And just two days before Israel came, Kim and Jeff brought Eli over for S'mores.









wow, thank goodness I'm not pregnant anymore!!

By the way, Tom is recovering well from surgery. Friday and Saturday were difficult days, but we've had a ton of help, and since Israel is such an easy little guy, God has just really blessed us.

Pre-Op day and other things...

It's cold. Or rather, I'm cold. It's 73 in here. So is it all in my head? Does the cloudy sky simply make me think it's cold? Maybe it's knowing that in order to warm it up inside on demand we have to build a fire? Maybe it's the weight loss? ;) Or maybe I'm coming down with something (I think that a lot, just ask Tom). Just in case, I'm all Zicam-ed up and am drinking white tea with raw honey. Between that and the quadruple dose of probiotics I've been on since the naturopath visit, I shouldn't be able to get sick. Right? Let us hope.

Tom gets to have surgery tomorrow. So we have to commute at 0-dark-thirty in the morning over to Seattle. This should be the last surgery, and it should fix him all up. I sure hope it does. I want my husband to be able to enjoy his life a bit more than he has been lately. Don't get me wrong, he's been wonderfully chin-up about the whole thing, but no one can live with constant pain and not have it bring them down a bit.

Eve's napping. And for a change, I don't care how long her nap lasts. She's sleeping over at Grandma's!! Yay! That will make tomorrow morning so much easier. And it will be our first night without her here with us since the hospital visit.

Speaking of which, you're not here to hear about my hypochondria or Tom, right? You want birth story. And pictures.



Last time...

we went to sleep. And we didn't wake up until Tom's alarm went off. Talk about a let down. Especially for Tom, since we'd stayed up until like one in the morning, and now he had to get up at 7 to go to work.

I got up with him, and so did Eve and we just kinda sat around with nothing exciting happening.

I saw Tom out the door just before 8, and then visited the restroom. Men, if you don't want to know, close your eyes now and move on to the next paragraph. So, there was blood on the paper. Yay! Bloody show.

Shortly after, as in like, 10 minutes, I felt what was definitely a real contraction. It's funny how you just know. Of course, with bloody show, there's no going back, so there wasn't a question in my mind anyway.

I called Tom, I called Kim, I called Ashia.

Tom didn't believe me and told me unhappily to call him when I could say with more certainty that he needed to be home before his work day was over.

Kim was excited, and told me to keep her posted and that she would come when I was ready for her.

Ashia wasn't feeling real well. :( But, it was good timing day-wise because her husband was home to stay with the kids.

Then I took Eve for a walk. She wanted to be in the stroller, and it was a beautiful, sunny, warm morning. We walked to one end of the road, and while walking I called my mom and dad to let them know what was up. I also called my friends Tanna and Bridget. Then we walked to the other end of the road, and while I walked, I timed the contractions, which were coming roughly 3 minutes apart and lasting for 40 seconds or so. At the other end of the road there was a nice black berry patch, so I picked berries for Eve and had a few myself and called Tom to let him know he should come home, because the contractions were getting longer, stronger and closer together. It was close to 10 A.M.

We walked back home and Tom and his dad showed up just after we walked in the door. Eve would be going with Poppy for the day, since Grandma was busy with Cousin Hunter who had his own hospital trip to deal with.

I called Kim to let her know things were moving along and to come when she could, and then I hopped in the shower.

It's funny, I didn't really plan to wear my own clothes to labor in at the hospital, but that's what ended up happening, and my short orange (who would have thought I'd unwittingly take the chiropractor's advice?!) cotton jersey skirt and sleeveless white top were probably the most perfect things I could have chosen for comfort and utility. The skirt might have been better had it been a wrap skirt, but otherwise it was great. And orange! :)

When Kim arrived, we went for another walk. I had to stop walking when contractions came at this point, but they were still very manageable.

Back at home, I sat on an exercise ball in the kitchen for a very long time. Kim timed the contractions on her phone. We noticed that they sometimes were farther apart and sometimes shorter, but forward progress was definitely still being made.

I kind of wonder how Kim was feeling at this point. I know she was excited, but I wonder if she was scared too. At that point, I was just excited. I definitely had a few moments of...well, second thoughts, let's say, later on, but at this point, things were going really well.

I got quite a few calls while in the kitchen laboring. One from my mom who had called the hospital, who of course, hadn't heard from nor seen us. My mom kind of flipped out, not understanding why I wouldn't want to get to the hospital as quickly as humanly possible. You see, my mom LOVED her hospital births. She just thought the nurses were great, loved the free hospital food, and getting to kick her feet up and not have to do anything.

Me? My stay in the hospital with Eve was sheer torture. I couldn't stand the nurse visits. The nurses themselves were okay, but when they arrive at 4 AM to undress your peacefully sleeping baby, thereby making her cry, they really seemed to be trying to make themselves my enemy.

Plus, I knew the longer I labored at the hospital, the longer I'd have to endure the electronic fetal monitor straps, more torture! And I would be somewhat at the mercy of the staff. So, the longer I could stay home, the better.

Kim and Tom teased the cat with toys and a laser pointer and we moved to the living room, where I had to kneel on a crib pad. Tom was terrified of my water breaking in the bed or on the carpet or in the car. Heh.

It was in the living room that I decided the contractions were getting strong enough that I didn't want to take a ride in the car if they were much stronger. Out the window went my intention to try to stay home until my water broke.

We called Ashia to have to start making her way to the hospital and packed up the car.

I had a few very concrete goals for this labor and delivery: Stay upright as much as possible during labor. Stay positive. And finally, don't give birth while on my back. Stay tuned to see if it all works out.

A snippet of birth story...

So, because I know I won't get a chance to write out the whole birth story of Peanut in one sitting, I'm going to do it in installments instead. Eventually I hope to add pictures (don't worry, nothing too over the top), but I don't actually have the pictures as this point (digitally) so you'll have to wait. :)

So, anyway...

As the weekend drew to a close, and my due date was dwindling into the past, I began to get antsy to have the baby. I still didn't want to rush it, but I was remembering that with Eve, my membranes had been stripped, I was walking a lot, eating a ton of spicy food, and then visited the chiropractor the night I went into true labor. I was also remembering that I had that prodomal labor the entire day before real labor began, and a few other physical signs that the guy's in the audience probably don't want to hear about.

These recollections resulted in some concern on my part...what if it was all those things that were done to me and that I did that made me go into labor? What if I couldn't go into labor without those things? And, since I could now see in hindsight that that prodomal labor was the immediate precursor to true labor, I figured that I'd have to experience that (and plug loss, ahem) some time before true labor would begin. Since all was quiet, I knew I wasn't too close.

I went to the Chiropractor on Monday, the 13th. This gal is not the chiro that put me in to labor with Eve. He's retired. Kinda bummed. She was a bit...um...less medical and more hocus-pocus than I generally like, so I probably won't see her regularly, plus, I like manual adjustments...she just used some kind of pressure snapping thingy. She did give me a nice little massage though.

She ended our session advising me to put some orange in my life (rolls eyes) and suggested I wear any orange clothing I owned and told Eve to color me an orange picture. Free color therapy! As I left, her assistant said she guarantees 24 hours (with a laugh). I laughed too, although I didn't think it was very funny.

(I just want to break in here and say that I still haven't finished Peanut's embroidery, and have a stack of unwritten thank you cards and two baskets of laundry to fold. See how I sacrifice for you?)

Nothing too interesting happened after that. My whole drive home was rife with anticipation though. When Tom got home, we went out on the boat and played in the water a bit. Eve got to have her first tube ride (Tom went extremely slow and I was in another tube right next to Eve). I enjoyed the tube because I could actually lay on my tummy! Plus, it was nice to cool down.

And then we had a bit of a scare. I was not in labor, but was concerned that my water may have broken and was on a slow trickle. It was fairly late, and I didn't want to rush to the hospital for nothing. It was my very deep desire not to raise any alarms unnecessarily, so that unnecessary interventions wouldn't follow. As it got later and to be Eve's bed time, we finally decided not to go in to the hospital. The trickle had slowed, and some contractions brought on by a late-night walk with Tom and Eve in the stroller didn't cause any gushing. Plus, I figured I could just as easily go in the morning if I needed to, as it would only be 12 hours and 24 hours is usually when I've heard they get concerned about the water being broken too long.

We watched the Green Mile, which I had sworn would not be the Labor Movie this time around. It turns out to have been...although I wasn't really in labor, exactly. It wasn't as sad or unpleasant a movie as I thought it would be, though it did make me cry. But so did lots of other things during pregnancy, so that doesn't really prove much.

And then we went to sleep.

Tune in next time for more story, and some actual labor action!

He's he-re!

So, is it any wonder I haven't blogged?

Go here for pics and stuff. Hopefully soon things will settle enough for me to share more.

Never seen a due date before

I'm beginning to wonder if Peanut has decided not to come until I finish his embroidered onesie.

I really expected to have a baby right now. Oh well, I'm not too worried, I can't stay pregnant forever. :)

Another onesie

Here's the latest baby gift I embroidered.





Paxon's daddy is a musician.

I'm pretty proud of my speed on this one. I got the pattern on the fabric on a Tuesday night, but didn't start stitching until the next day. I was done by Friday night, and I really didn't sacrifice to get it done, no special stitching sessions or ignoring my daughter or anything like that.

I wrote out the name (short for Paxon) by hand with a washable marker from Eve's stash. Our printer died a sad and sudden death. I think it may be a bit too widely spaced, but otherwise, I'm pretty happy with it, especially considering I have fairly poor handwriting abilities.

There's a bit of puckering, which I'm sad about, but I don't think it will be too much of a problem. There are also a few stitches that are less than stellar. Eve has been helping me embroider lately, and somehow, I can't really figure out how, it does seem to have an effect on the stitches, even though I place the needle and can easily loosen too-tight stitches. I look forward to when Eve is old enough to try doing something like this all on her own. And until then, I pine away for lacing cards.

Diaper pictures

More pictures downloaded to check on the photos my dad wanted. All those diapers I spend so much time writing about.

Here's the newborn diaper stash in the top drawer of Eve's dresser.



You can see half of the small prefolds generously loaned to me by my friend Betsy. Oh how am I going to keep them so sparkley looking?! She also loaned me a few wraps, but those are toward the bottom of the pile of wraps you can see in the lower left of the photom, because of the slightly larger size. I think I have about 6 wraps to use for the newborn period... a few that only go up to 10 lbs and others that go to 12. The top one in the pile has a cute little notch for avoiding the belly button stump. so tiny. Eve prefers these sizes for use on her dolls. :)

You can also see the like-new Kushies all-in-one I found for cheap on the ill-fated Seattle shopping day at the top left of the photo. Just beneath you can see a big zip-lock bag full of some of the cloth wipes my friend Gina gave me. I'll try to remember to get a shot of the really pretty ones she made for me before I use them. ;)

Yay for friends! :)

Here's the rest of the fitted and all-in-one diapers I got when shopping with my mom.



All but the light green one to the very right should fit Peanut as soon as he passes the new-born stage.

The lion one and the green fleece are just diaper wraps (at least, I think so...can't figure out anything about the lion one...no brand or anything, but it doesn't seem to have any absorbent layer inside, just a cotton knit lining. I only bought it because I think it's really cute. well, that and it was cheap and my mom was buying. :) That's a view of the back of it, won't it be cute on a little baby behind?)

The yellow one has an adorable monkey print on the inside, but it's the one that took forever to dry...forever. It's some kind of name-brand, but the logo tag is simply a baby looking through his legs with "CB" on the cloth diaper he's wearing. Can't figure out what the brand actually is. Shrug.

Over to the far left, top of the pile is a Mother-ease fitted one-size. It looks too huge to fit a tiny tiny baby, but we'll see how it goes with a 12 pounder. Beneath that is a "Kooshies" fitted... I'm not sure if Kooshies and Kushies are related.... and then beneath that is a nameless fitted that I probably should have passed up as it's pretty worn out. However, it was a buck and a quarter...and again, my mom was buying... and this was at the beginning of the trip before I realized that it wouldn't be the only fitted diaper I saw all day. :)

I am all set for laundering diapers. Well, almost. I have a cheap additive-free liquid detergent. Should be good for avoiding buildup on the diapers. I have vinegar (I bought two gallons at Costco to start making my own cleaners. I used it all over the kitchen on Friday in a half-water, half-white-distilled-vinegar spray solution, and it really seemed to work well. Quite happy with myself.) and I have a huge bag of baking soda (12 lbs, Costco again, and again, initially intended for non-laundry cleaning purposes. I haven't cleaned my own shower since purchasing the bag (yay for friends!), but that's my main intention with it). I also have a small bottle of dawn dish liquid for the occasional stripping, but since I've already done it once, and intend to do all the recommended things for avoiding build-up in the future, I don't think I'll use dawn too often in the wash.

And...my sister is giving me a fairly new washer and dryer set!!! Now Tom and I just have to figure out a way to move it from Sequim where it's stored on the second floor of a storage barn up at her place. May be difficult, since Sequim is not a short trip and moving a washer and dryer down stairs, not to mention into someone's truck, is not exactly a task just anyone can help us with. Then there's the fact that whoever does help will essentially be doing it all by themselves, as Tom can't do it in his current injured state, and I could never do it, even if I wasn't 38 weeks pregnant. But, I'm totally excited, as our dryer is quite worn out, and our washer is pretty darn old. Yay for sisters!

I have a feeling we will have the baby before we have the washer and dryer, but that's okay, I can be patient, for a little while. :)

Eve and things...

My dad wanted a picture of me in my hugeness. I'm not sharing the picture here (though the brave and curious will find an overexposed shot of us on flickr) because it was incredibly unflattering and didn't turn out very well otherwise. But, it did prompt me to download the pics waiting on the camera, just to make sure the pictures were somewhat like what my dad wanted.

I think I'll try a re-shoot sometime this week.

Here are the other pics.

This is Eve wearing a little baby doll in her new sling.



and here she is laughing and pointing at the cat.



She insisted I take a picture of the kitty.



Everyone is always so complimentary of the kitty's appearance. She is a very pretty cat. She is also very mean. A wonderfully generous group of gals from church arranged and participated in a cleaning party at my house on Friday. I was so blessed to have them, and really, so much was accomplished I was blown away. How does that relate to the cat? She attacked and chased my friend Kim several times when Kim was working on the downstairs bathroom. Kim is doing birth coaching for Peanut's birth. I can't believe my cat would be so rude!

Just one car?

I've been thinking lately that it would be nice to eliminate the cost of owning a second car.

But the more I think about it, the more impossible the thought becomes.

For one, my husband's vehicle is not a family car. It's a huge monstrous GMC Safari (not actually very mini for a minivan) that is unreliable and filled with the dirt, debris, and equipment one might expect a professional home remodeler to be toting. Yes, there are 5 seats, and it is roomy, but I really hate to drive it, and I don't much enjoy riding in it either.

He needs to have it with him during all working hours, as it's his big tool-box.

Then there's the things I mentioned in my previous post. We don't live in the city...we live on the outskirts. Yes, there is a grocery store (and a few filipino markets--how can there really be two?!) that is within easy walking distance... and also two hair salons...but not enough of the sorts of services or attractions that I would need to be able to go without a car. No Library, for one, and the grocery store is small and not well stocked, and not to mention, not generally the best for budget shopping. I must drive to get to Target. I must drive to get to the better parks. I must drive to get organic produce. I must drive to find sidewalks!

And so, we will continue to pay for insurance and maintenance on the second car, and I will do my best to drive only as far and as often as needed.

2 weeks

It would be dishonest to say the count down has begun.

For one, the countdown has been continuous since I realized I was pregnant. For another, I'm not in much of a hurry. Yes, I'd love to stop being uncomfortably hugely pregnant, but as I've mentioned previously, I am apprehensive about having 2 kids, and so can wait for the inevitable as long as God allows.

What if I have 28 days left? I highly doubt that's the case, since Eve arrived a day before her due date. On the other hand, the doctor thought she arrived 4 days late--so I guess I should at least be prepared for 4 days late from the due date I have been given.

What if I have less than 13 days? well, it's a good thing my last day of work is Monday. At least then I'll get a short rest (can it really be called rest when I will be chasing my toddler and trying to clean in preparation for the new little one?)

It definitely means I'm running short on time for a few things I really enjoy about working.

The bit of spare time I have for blogging and surfing is going to dwindle. Yes, the laptop belongs to me, but it's not often that either my husband or my daughter simultaneously don't wish for my attention and aren't using it. Which is usually fine, as that allows me to clean, read, or embroider. But I think my blogging frequency is going to suffer a hit. On the up-side, maybe if I stop finding so much out about cloth diapers these days, I will feel less stressed about the decisions, and just make Tom learn to fold. :)

I really love the library up here, much more so than the one nearest to my home. Come to think of it, there's not really a library very close to my home, making it inconvenient even though there are closer locations than the one here.

There's also a couple grocery stores I like to frequent up here. One that's huge and stocks great options on organic and natural foods, and another that is...Walmart...but not gross and shiver-inducing (I worked there the year between high school and marriage, it was awful) like the one, again, not conveniently located anywhere near me, but technically closer than the one up here.

And a nice children's consignment shop that I could sometimes stop at on my way to work.

Now the name of the game will be conserving gas, which probably means no trips to Walmart or the library, or much of anywhere, and certainly no trips north to this litte town I work in.

It's possible I will miss little breaks away from my daughter. But knowing I have such little time left to just be with her, I don't think so. It will be after the baby arrives that I'll miss the little breaks, and I'll just have to slog through and wait until my husband comes home so I can have 5 minutes alone in the bathroom. :)

so...

I feel like this is becoming a cloth diapering blog... ha ha. Obsess much?

On Tuesday I had a somewhat bad shopping day with my mom. She was really sweet and generous, and basically bought me anything I even remotely showed interest in at the various children's consignment stores we rushed to and from.

She bought me a changing table that I do not love. It will certainly do, which is why I allowed her to buy it for me, but...it's just not my style. Then again, I'm not certain changing tables fit in with my style, period. Eve just had a dresser and a changing pad secured to the top. I used it all the time (even after she fell head first off the thing) and loved it, so I know I'd have a hard time transitioning to the "pad on the couch (or bed)" or "floor changing" that I know many people go for.

She also bought me a small, simple diaper pail (since I'm pretty sure my fancy and worn out diaper disposal "system" won't really do with cloth). I have since decided it's too small...as there's no way it will hold a whole load of diapers...but I'm sure I'll find a use for it. And, it was as pricey used as it is new on Target's website...so I guess we saved on shipping.

However, I'm not sure it was worth it, considering the pain and suffering of the day. Parking lots and small fender scrapes and whatnot...:P

Eve was great, though she did get hurt and that made the last stop a little less fun.

She also picked up an assortment of all in one diapers, a few pocket diapers, and wrap covers. They were all used and all pretty cheap, but not in bad shape. I'll probably take a picture of them in all their newly-pristine glory to show you all soon, I know you can't wait. I "stripped" the diapers with Dawn dish detergent last night, requiring 3 rinses to get all the suds out! And then had to dry them all on low, since most of them say to dry on medium and my dryer only has low or high. This took 3+ cycles. One of the all-in-one diapers finally was simply hung out...because it *still* wasn't dry (I've heard this is an issue). My dryer is so lame, I think this means that I should definitely stop pining away for all-in-ones for Tom and make him buck up (or hope for some miracle from heaven of a better dryer and/or pocket diapers.

I think washing the Polar Babies wrap in the hot water with the rest of the stuff was a bad idea, as it now is all bunched up on the inner lining. On the plus side, Eve likes that one quite well for her doll, so it will be put to good use no matter what.

I got one pocket diaper that is big enough for Eve, or an even bigger kid, I would imagine. It's a "FuzzyBunz" and...ha ha, works quite well! Eve wanted to wear it really bad, and since it was all nice and clean, and the baby won't be in that size for a loooong time, I figured it couldn't hurt. I told her to pretend she was wearing big girl panties, and to proceed accordingly...She must have thought I meant to forget going potty on the potty, because she promptly tested out the capacity of the thing--and it did great! So, I guess that's a good thing. Too bad I didn't find the thing in a small size, 'cause by the time the baby wears something this big, Tom better be able to handle folding a simple prefold--seriously.

Pampers or Huggies?

Okay, so maybe the world of disposable diapers is not that simple, but it is much more so than the world of cloth diapers.

Sure, there's a few less popular brands, and many store brands, and personally, I've found myself delighted with Costco's Kirkland brand. If you buy a package you don't like from, say, Walmart, you only have to live with the mistake for a week or so, and then you go buy a different brand.

Cloth on the other hand? There are (maybe literally, who can tell?) thousands of different kinds of cloth diapers and accessories.

It's really overwhelming. Now, the cheap way to go is with prefolds and simply plastic covers or wool covers made from old sweaters (or hand knit ones, if you happen to knit--which I don't, sadly). Prefolds are what you think of when you think of cloth diapers. There are also tons of different kinds of covers to use... ones that Velcro in a manner similar to disposable diapers...probably more comfortable and way more cute than plastic pants.

But then, there are All In Ones, and Pocket diapers... and these look like mana from heaven to me. As easy to use (washing, of course, is a different matter) as disposables, because they are one piece...and even cute! Like these and these and these. Even you who think cloth diapering is crazy (I hear you, I do.) can't deny how cute these are!

And, then, there's a world in between...diapers that are not rectangle, but rather contoured, and then fitted diapers that are contoured and self-securing (with Velcro or snaps) with elastic around the top and legs to prevent leaks. There are liners and doublers and soakers and inserts, and a hundred brands of every type of item I just listed...how can one make a good choice? The cost of a bad choice is much higher than having to finish off a package of less-than-ideal disposables. When you drop 20 bucks plus shipping on one diaper...and it doesn't fit your kid or it leaks or it's just too difficult to use... then what? Not to mention... when you go with a 20 bucks a piece diaper... are you really saving over disposables? Maybe in the long run, since the diapers are very re-usable--even on to second and third children, but in the short run, that's the cost of a large package of disposables... sigh.

And then there's endless discussion on laundering techniques...I can hardly even bear to go there.

However, on the positive side of all of this, I did find out that Viva paper towels work very well as liners to prevent staining... yay! I was going to buy old sheets and cut those up and just throw them away anyway... this seems not much worse as far as waste is concerned. I guess we'll see...philosophically, I suppose this may not be very waste-not-want-not of me...but not having to worry so much about stains? That just might be worth it.

Dreams

So, I've been having a few weird dreams I thought I'd share with you.

The first was short and vivid, and woke me up with a start. I wouldn't call it a nightmare, but it wasn't a good dream, either.

First, I watched my cat jump away in pain from a spider she'd been playing with. Eve was with me, but not in my arms, and the spider walked away from the cat with two legs raised...like it was attacking. We jumped out of the way, and it scurried behind a piece of furniture. Before it was hidden, it grew, turned red, and suddenly had wings, though it didn't fly. It was also oddly shaped, with a pointed front end and a larger rear-end, a bit like a mouse. Which makes sense, because it suddenly turned around and was a mid-sized white mouse. I'm not sure why, but I instinctually stepped on the mouse. I was wearing rather thin shoes, and I could feel it squirm beneath my feet, and could tell that even with all my weight, I wasn't really doing anything to it. I lifted my foot and it began to run away. My cat, meanwhile, was lolled on its side, yet to recover from the spider bite. I told Eve it was okay and stepped on the mouse again. The same thing, only this time when I lifted my foot, it jumped up on me. That's what woke me up.

The latest one was even shorter and not nearly as vivid, although seemed totally real and distressing nonetheless. I can't even remember much of the details, except at the baby's birth someone announced, "It's a girl!"

I was quite upset. First, I've desired a boy because I think sibling relations may be easier when one can be the family definition of feminine and one can be the masculine one... no degrees of femininity, so no worries about creating complexes in a little girl's psyche. Second, we have planned and prepared for a boy (With Eve, I was never positive, so everything was done, at least by me, with the assumption that it could go either way. I didn't even wash up all the new girl clothes we received, just the hand-me-downs. And I took a white outfit to the hospital with two onesies, one for a girl in pink and white stripes, and one for a boy that I can't really remember now.) and if we have a girl, there will be much scrambling to fix the clothing situation. And of course, I'd been confidently stating that the baby was definitely a boy, so now I was embarrassed to be so confident and so wrong. Also, we have a boy's name (if not the middle name) but no girl's name, because by the time we started looking at names, we'd found out the sex, so there was no need to do twice the work when deciding on the name. How could this happen?!

And then I woke up. Phew! It seemed so real, I was quite shocked to find myself still pregnant. I sure hope it wasn't a premonition.

Reading

So I've been enjoying my reading of Siblings Without Rivalry. It's interesting and enlightening, and at the same time challenging.

Principles:

Validate feelings.

I don't think I'm great at this, especially when it's something like, "I don't like him" because there's no reason for her to feel this way, usually. I'll have to keep in mind that feelings are often not based on good reasoning or logic. Heaven knows mine aren't. Validating feelings doesn't have to mean allowing bad actions or behavior. Yay!

Give in fantasy what can't be had in reality.


Basically, just state in clear language what it appears the child wants. Not sure how I feel about this one.

Not sure how I feel about this one. I can't see myself saying, "I can see you are angry. You wish that we could send the baby back and have mama all to yourself again."

Suggest creative or otherwise non-harmful outlets to express negative feelings.

Meh...I've never much liked this, myself. Although I have made great use of writing letters that never get read, that is a little hard for non-literate children. I guess I could always suggest punching pillows or screaming at the top of your lungs--I use those myself.

Don't compare, positively or negatively.

I know I've already been guilty of this with other kid's Eve's age or a little older.

"Oh, Eve, Hannah wears big girl panties all the time because she goes potty in the potty! She's such a big girl!"

I will have to make sure this isn't something I continue.

The hardest part of this includes non-direct comparisons: praising one child in front of the other. I have a hard time already with over-praising Eve. Of course, I think she's the most awesome kind on the planet, so it's hard to keep that to myself, and in my house as a child everything we did was always the best and the greatest, and we were the smarted, most attractive, most athletic, etc. kids EVER.

It's going to be a real challenge to keep praise private as the family grows. Also not sure how this applies to praising infants for milestone accomplishments...something to think about.

The next section is Fair is Unfair, which I've just begun and which says equal treatment is unnecessary and harmful, and that each child should be treated according to his or her needs.

I'm definitely interested in this section, because while I don't feel my parents did this, I get the sense that Tom thought his whole life was unfair...and he's frequently mentioned how certain unfair treatments bother him in other families we are close to.

So far, my only hang up with this book is that the things parents say seem to be way over the top...but then, I guess it's easier to portray extreme examples than more subtle ones in such a format.

Additionally, a lot of the long-lasting hurt feelings and resentment can be healed through forgiveness, given time and God, so I didn't identify with a lot of what the parents said about their own histories--even though I hated my brother, I really love him now and I'm closer to him than to either of my other brothers, who were never subjects of my wrath. And although I recognize that in many ways my feelings toward him had a lot to do with what my parents did, I know they only did what they felt was best and have always had the best of intentions, and simply didn't have the tools or training to do what would have been better. I've forgiven them for it, even though I fear repeating their mistakes.

I guess I should let that be a lesson to me...

Even if I fail as a parent to foster a close and loving relationship amongst my children, all hope is not lost as long as God's in the picture--He can change hearts and minds dramatically, as He has mine.

Of course, that puts the pressure back on teaching Eve the Truth about God, and praying that she chooses to follow him, and back to my fear of screwing her up!

Diapers are so much better than when I was baby

Guess what?

I'm going to cloth diaper this baby!

Yikes, what am I saying?

How did I come to this place from my beautiful world of vastly improved disposable diapers that make life so darn easy?

Well, to begin with, cloth diapering is not just a historical thing in my world. I have the pleasure of having many friends who don't just go with the flow of the modern world and wrap their kids in the latest diaper technology available. They have expanded my horizons. In fact, I have quite a few friends who eschew diapers almost entirely, and instead live a diaper-free existence through a practice called Elimination Communication.

In point of fact, I'm also considering EC, but find myself somewhat overwhelmed by visiting the potty with a newborn who has to go every 20 minutes--especially as I'm in the middle of attempting to potty train Eve. Add to that my squeamish germophobia, and the idea of having little potties all over the house where toddler hands can find them, I'm just not so sure. At least, I know I will wait until 6 weeks or so, and re-evaluate then.

And who knows, after that many weeks of doing my own diaper laundry, I may just be ready to switch to an alternative!

What? No diaper service? No, you see, that's the *actual* motivation behind my plan to cloth diaper. No money! I think I previously mentioned that Tom will be recovering from surgery during my maternity leave (which I really do hope to make permanent, but I'm not going to get my hopes up too high until we see if we can survive that way. It's never worked before, and our financial situation has taken quite the hit since Tom's accident, so we're already starting from a difficult spot). With the loss of my income and living on disability for a month at the least, we'll be at about 50% our previous income. the cost of a few extra loads of laundry a week should be significantly less than either the cost of a service or the cost of disposables, and therefore our most affordable option. The alternative is putting disposables on credit--not cool.

Of course, cloth diapers and covers are not cheap. Although I did find a great resource for making your own at very little expense, I can't really spend any money on something Tom's not convinced we'll be able to sustain. Some very kind friends have offered to loan us all we will need to cloth diaper a newborn. What a huge blessing! And, if I decide cloth diapering is sustainable for our family, but decide against EC, I can probably afford to slowly build a stash of home-made larger-sized diapers and covers to take us through the baby's diapering year(s).

A couple added bonuses:
uh...the crunchy creds and props from my cloth-diapering friends. ;)
No worries about chemicals (with unknown consequences) lying close to my baby's skin 24/7.
Feelings of pride associated with clean laundry (Did I tell you how happy it made me to get Eve's training pants pristinely clean after a soiling accident a week or so ago? I was in alt), conquering a new challenge, and attaining a new skill.
And of course, being a good steward of the environment.

I'll have to say, the worst part about this is the laundry. Not only do I not relish the idea of rinsing diapers in the toilet (ew. eww. Thank goodness I bought a huge stash of disposable nitrile gloves from Costco a few months ago--is that like totally against the cloth diapering code? Maybe I should buy some rubberized kitchen tongs or something for the purpose? and a leak-proof transfer container too. Drips...*shudder*), I already hate folding laundry. Really, aside from putting laundry away, it's my absolute least favorite chore. Yes, I prefer scrubbing toilets, baths and showers, and getting on my hands and knees to hand-mop my kitchen floor to folding laundry. I guess I should be grateful that the diapers should be a lot easier to put away than clothes generally are, but the complicated folding ritual may make up for that.

I'm trying to build enthusiasm in my mind for this. When Cloth diapering was simply something friends did, I could admire it, and imagine myself doing it if need be. Same with EC. But now that I'm faced with actually doing it, I'm a little overwhelmed.

It sounds like so much work, and I'm worried I won't be able to wash the diapers clean enough for my own standards or those of the diaper owners (I had hoped that our last tax return would finance the purchase of a more energy/water efficient front loading washer and a dryer that doesn't take two cycles to dry a load of anything but delicates (you know, the ones you don't put in the dryer?), but we were looking and waiting for the right deal when Tom had his accident, and kept it as a stash for emergencies. We finally used it up in the last financial snafu. So I'm left with a washer that I feel doesn't even clean Tom's work jeans well enough, let alone a load of wet and soiled diapers that I will put back on my baby, and eventually return to their rightful owners.) Plus, I'm not a huge fan of the mondo-butt look so many cloth-diapered babies sport.

Wish me luck and perseverance. I'm gonna need it.

A nice turn around

So I continued to feel lousy all day on Monday, until I got home.

Eve ran to me, so happy to see me, and gave me the biggest, longest kiss. And then giggled and kissed me again and again. And then stroked my hair and looked so happy to be in my arms and to have me home. I couldn't continue to feel sorry for myself with that kind of love.

Then Tom, who had planned on having the night to himself in order to practice his guitar, said he'd watch Eve so I could go to one of those product parties at a friend's. I'd been pretty bummed to have to cancel due to lack of babysitters, not because I planned to buy anything with my no-discretionary-spending budget, but because I knew my friend would be serving something wonderfully yummy to eat, and I would get to relax rather than try to do the nighttime routine all by myself. He was so cordial and encouraging about it, I could tell he wasn't just doing it grudgingly. It was such a blessing to get to go, and the food was, indeed, delicious. Again, how could I continue to be grumpy in the face of my husband's love?

Finally, that night Tom and I stayed up pretty late and had a long conversation about my parenting concerns.

He isn't worried and feels we're doing an okay job. I wouldn't say I totally agree with him, but it was comforting to know that he's not dissatisfied with my parenting, so no extra pressure there.

He also said I need to stop worrying about screwing her up, because in one way or another, we're going to screw her up. Basically, he says I need to stop striving for perfection, because it's impossible to achieve. While not comforting, it is freeing to accept that I cannot be the perfect mother, and that my child cannot be perfect, no matter how hard I try and wish for it.

In addition to all that, there were a couple great comments on my last post with practical and real-world truth on sibling rivalry and discipline--which was encouraging and helpful.

What's my motivation?

Well, I'm just having one of those days today. I shouldn't be, as I'm feeling showered with love and care from every direction. Despite that, my thoughts are drawn toward self-reflection and I find myself lacking--always disappointing.

It's been a somewhat slow journey to this frame of mind, and I wouldn't say I got here until yesterday evening. But it all started Saturday night.

I brought up sibling rivalry with a friend who has quite a few kids. I figured if she'd dealt with it and figured out how to deal with it, then I could safely take her advice on it--because her kids all seem to get along and love each other.

I'll be honest that she didn't seem to have much practical advice, but she assured me that she doesn't think it will be a problem in our family.

I wish I could share her conviction.

You see, when I got my first sibling, it ruined my life. I felt betrayed, bereft, abandoned and unloved. And it was ALL. HIS. FAULT. Dumb little brother going and messing up my life like that. Who did he think he was?! I literally hated him. I wasn't much for the physical abuse, although I'm sure that he got his fair share of shoves and whatnot, but I was much more about the emotional manipulation and cruelty. To this day, I believe that I can see evidence in my brother of damage done by me and by my parent's reaction to my behavior towards him.

I'm very afraid of the same occurring between Eve and her little brother. I'm afraid she will feel unloved and displaced. I'm afraid she'll take it out on her little brother. I'm afraid that anything I try to do to "fix" their relationship will only further harm things. I'm afraid of putting distance between Eve an I, after working so hard to foster closeness and attachment and trust, I'd hate to see it all go to waste, wiped out by the arrival of a sibling.

You might see something in the above paragraph that my friend picked up on. Fear.

She told me she got the feeling I was afraid and implored me not to be. Reminding me that fear is not of God. Unless, of course, it's fear of God. But I can't seem to help myself. It's ingrained in me, and probably something I need to really work on.

Yes, I'm fearful about sibling relations in my home. This led me to examine my parenting in general. I am very much motivated by fear in my parenting.

Now, unlike perhaps many (not all) parents (I suspect), I am not really much afraid that my daughter will misbehave. She does misbehave, but I'm not a behaviorist, or at least, I'm not hung up on the here-and-now of behavior, and I recognize that a lot of what we might think of as misbehavior is really just developmental behavior. Yes, I get frustrated by that behavior, but most of the time, I can deal.

What I am afraid of is screwing her up. I'm sure my fear will double soon as I have a whole new little life I can screw up too. Maybe I'm giving myself too much credit, maybe I don't have so much power.

I really try to trust God over my daughter, and to an extent, I feel I've succeeded. I'm much less fearful for her physical well being and health than I used to be. I'm not perfectly fearless in the face of danger or disease, but I think I've come a long way.

I feel I'm well-equipped to be a nurturer of little lives. I find it easy to be a responsive mother of a newborn and infant (although I do anticipate struggling a bit with doing the infant thing at the same time as the toddler thing). I guess I should say, I know what to do with a baby. I know that they don't have mere "wants" and every desire is truly a need. Every moment is a learning one for a baby. And the goal of the first year is to teach trust and self-worth.

After that, things get more complicated. When do children begin to have mere "wants" and when can such desires be safely denied? When does age-appropriate behavior cross the line into inappropriate behavior (besides the obvious of bringing harm to others), when is it disrespect, when is it something else equally unsavory that should be stopped? I've been stumbling through that with Eve, and I still honestly don't know. I feel fairly confident that at her age of several months past 2 and a half, she's long been in the stage of everything not being a need, I'm just not sure when the transition occurred, and I still have a little trouble deciphering which is which.

I'm not afraid that I'm doing too much in the way of discipline, although I'm certainly afraid of going there. Instead, I'm afraid I'm too far on the "permissive" end of the spectrum in which I'm not establishing enough boundaries, and I'm not training her in good behavior, decorum, or work ethic. I'm also afraid I'm leaving God out of the equation--although He is in my thoughts and I am trying to do things in a Godly fashion, I'm pretty sure I don't communicate that to Eve enough, and I don't feel that we're doing much to teach her about God. Very frustrating, really.

I'm also dreadfully afraid of teaching Eve a God that doesn't exist. I've shared that before. I don't want to present to her "God" who is not true. I want to only present the True God to her, but I am, again, afraid that I'm failing.

I hate failing. It makes me feel really lousy. Failure in general is just one more thing I fear. And being fearful makes me feel I've once more failed.