Mill could not start Kindergarten this fall because of her November birthday. I strongly believe she would have done absolutely fine with kindergarten curriculum however I knew she’d benefit socially from a preschool experience. We decided to enroll her at the private, Christian school closest to our home (it came with great reviews from neighbors and colleagues).
When I visited the school, I was impressed with what I saw; sight words on the walls, daily schedules, letter identification, bookcases of age appropriate books, and clean spaces. I think I was expecting pre-school to look like the daycare facilities we toured when she was younger but this was far from that.
Millie and I went to drop off her emergency medical information and the administrator allowed us to visit her classroom and meet her teacher. Summer classes were in session so when we got to the classroom, Millie was more interested in meeting the students rather than her teacher. They were working on a, “write the room” activity and Millie just joined in. I met with the teacher while she worked and played. When it was time to leave, Mill cried and asked why I didn’t sign her up for summer classes! She was so ready for school.
Getting school supplies for Millie was fun, pricey but fun. She wanted everything to be pink and sparkly; her backpack, her lunch box, her pencil pouch, you name it. We decided on a Barbie lunch box (that was big enough for both breakfast and lunch containers) a Skip-Hop preschool-sized backpack that looks like a koala, and a pencil pouch with a glittery butterfly. We filled her backpack with everything from her class list; glue sticks, safety scissors, colored pencils, crayons, skin-colored crayons, washable markers, and a paint set.
Dietary Needs: I was vegetarian when Mill was born and she was exclusively breastfed. After she’d eat, she’d projectile vomit, and her doctor told me to try limiting my dairy intake (cheese was three parts of my food pyramid). Chris also has a lactose intolerance so this change of diet benefited him as well. Four years later and veganism is our lifestyle. State law mandates that each child receive a milk (specially from a cow, 2% dairy) every day. To not have a carton of milk placed in front of my child, I had to have forms signed my Mill’s pediatrician stating she has a lactose intolerance and that she should be given water in place of milk. Oat and soy milk are allowed however, Millie doesn’t drink either.
Included in the weekly price, her school provides breakfast, lunch, and snacks. I highlight the monthly menu with the foods Millie can eat – apple sauce, tomato soup, carrot sticks, etc. I still pack her breakfast, lunch, and two snacks to ensure she has plenty of food to eat during the day. I also pack a small, daily joke card with her lunch because Mill is super into telling jokes lately. Her teacher reads it to her and she’d recite it back to me when she came home. Here’s some of her favorite lunches:
– left over pizza, grapes, cucumbers
– Pasta salad, peaches, dairy-free laughing cow cheese
– Sandwich (white bread, butter, and strawberry jelly) chips, apple slices
– Black bean and corn dip, tortilla chips, blueberries
The week before school started, I tried to best prepare Millie for pre-k. I made her lunch in the new containers so she could practice opening them. I created a schedule for her mornings and posted it on her closet door so that she would know the routine. I bought hanger labels with the days of the week on them so that we could pick out her outfits ahead of time. We read books about starting school. We took, “first day of school” pictures days before the actual first day of school so the first morning wouldn’t be so chaotic.
I was really anxious about Millie starting pre-k. Chris and I thought up worst case scenarios; what if she went into a bathroom stall and there was poop in the toilet? Would she know to pick a new stall? Would she try to flush it? Would she just hold herself? All the prepping in the world wouldn’t prepare her for every possible encounter she’d experience on her first day.
The night before Millie’s first day of school, I prayed with her as she laid in bed. Before I closed her door, I heard her say, “I can’t wait till I come home to celebrate your birthday mommy.” My heart melted. In the hustle and bustle of the new school year, I completely forgot about my birthday. She’s so incredibly thoughtful. I cried on the couch for the next 10 minutes about my baby (my early baby!) starting school. The next day, I turned 30 and Millie had her first day of pre-k.
Chris took Millie to school in the morning because I started back to work, my ninth year teaching. He said Millie told him that she was nervous which of course made me worry. When I picked her up from school at the end of the day, the nerves were gone. She told me she made a new boy-friend, Daxon, and her teacher said she had a great day. She even slept during nap time! When I told her that she’d be coming back the next day, she was excited.
I was so proud of Mill the day her teacher told me that she was so helpful to a new student. At four years old, her character is so kind. Everyday we received excellent reports on Millie’s work and behavior. They have a weekly special; art, gym, or music. She has learned about about the life cycle of a tree, how different color apples taste, the difference between warm and cool colors, Scripture, etc. Some days she’d come home with her hair styled different – she had the longest hair in her class so of course the other little girls play with it and the teachers!
So far this year, they have had a fall festival where the pumpkin patch came to their school and gave out pumpkins and doughnuts, a trick-or-treat event with the old folks home next door, the firemen did a presentation, and a reunion with a family who’s been apart because of active duty. We are so excited for their upcoming Christmas program. Millie has been practicing hard on the lyrics and the dance moves of both songs they’re performing.
Adventures from June-August; kinda like a list, more like a diary entry. A post to remember this summer.
We kicked off the summer with a trip to Louisville, Kentucky. We were visiting friends, Kristin and Kyle (Wells’ Godparents), and planned to see a botanical garden along the way however, it poured down rain. We changed plans to an indoor adventure instead. We stopped at the Louisville Slugger Museum to see the worlds largest baseball bat. The ivy on the wall and the hall of fame stars on the sidewalk were super cool. Millie picked out a pack of Chicago Cubs baseball cards and Wells loved swinging his blue, souvenir bat. We stayed the night with the Merkle’s, where the kids loved playing baseball in the basement with Uncle Kyle, and in the morning we left for the Cincinnati Zoo.
We used our Wonderfold Wagon at the zoo. There were a lot of hills so Chris was the one doing the pushing. Many people complimented our wagon and asked us questions about it. Millie and Wells have the freedom to move around while also being safe; I love it and wish we would’ve bought it sooner. We fed the giraffes expensive pieces of lettuce, ate at the food court, and saw the sifakas jumping around. Both kids love Fiona, the premature hippo who’s basically a celebrity now that Cincinnati needed some positive press after the death of Harambe (R.I.P).
The next weekend we went strawberry picking. I was inspired by a friends Instagram story; I never knew Ohio had strawberry fields. Chris has fond memories of strawberry picking as a kid and both Millie and Wells love to eat strawberries so I figured this was something fun we could do as a family. We were given two buckets and were told the best area for the ripest strawberries. We were surprised by how small they were compared to the strawberries we buy from the store. Wells was not interested in picking but he was interested in eating them! He sat down in the strawberry plants and turned the caboose of his khakis, pink. Millie was not enthused about touching the berries, especially the over-ripe ones that felt “squishy”.
Unfortunately, both Millie and Wells started this summer with a nasty cold; the snot was never ending. We seem to catch every germ. We wanted to play with friends and explore new places but we also wanted to keep everyone safe. Monday, Wells took his first bath in the sink. While Chris and I attempted a tile reno, I sat Wells on the counter to play in the sink water. Before I knew it, Wells had sat in the sink, fully clothed. I stripped him down and let him play in the water. On Tuesday, we roasted marshmallows using our tabletop fire pit. Neither kid enjoyed the taste of burnt marshmallows. Wednesday, we went to the thrift store and bought a water table, two ladles, and a new bathing suit for Millie. Wells tried to feed me octopus soup! We had a great time playing outside and eating strawberries! Thursday we ran errands, Millie had a fever, Aunt Lindsey came over, and Grandpa came into town. Friday we went to the library and signed up for the summer reading program. Wells very clearly said, “library”. I am so proud of how hard he’s working to communicate.
Here were some of their favorite reads:
No Pants by Jacob Grant
1, 2, 3, Jump! by Lisl H. Detlefsen
Goldfish on Vacation by Sally Lloyd-Jones
The Flower Man a wordless book by Mark Ludy
June went by entirely too fast. The kids enjoyed finger painting, chalking, and bubble blowing. We saw lots of family members at my cousin Carson’s graduation party and afterward both kids got to order their own pizza from Mod (Millie says she won’t be putting cucumber on her pizza again). We went to Hobby Lobby to get a decorative welcome mat for my mom who just bought a condo in Ohio and while I pushed Wells in the cart, he scared an old lady who was passing by! He said, “Ah!” and pointed at her as soon as she turned down our aisle. He’s a rascal. My in-laws came to town and we went out to eat at BrewDog to celebrate the closing of their new home. (The kids are getting ready to have all of their grandparents in Ohio!) Millie ate a vegan hamburger meal and Wells ate a soft pretzel. Wells enjoyed playing ladder toss, outside, after the meal.
July started with COVID. I went to a worship concert, unmasked, and another woman I went with tested positive after, too. The worst part of it was we were sick during the Fourth of July and my cousin Donaven, who’s currently serving our country in the Navy, came home to visit. Thankfully, we still got to see him (from six feet away). The kids watched Red, White, and Boom on the T.V while eating banana splits in their sleeping bags. Our town set off fireworks at the local high school that we could see from our backyard, too!
We have season passes to the Franklin Park Conservatory and explored the children’s garden with Lindsey, Logan, and Ben. The kids enjoyed pushing the hula hoops down the hill, watching and performing puppet shows with mangy-looking puppets, playing restaurant with the plastic food in the mud house, and pretending like they were birds making a nest of sticks. Wells spent time at the koi pond watching the fish. He was fascinated by the toy train. Wells was apprehensive about wading in the sandstone creek and wouldn’t let go of my hand but he grew confident and explored on his own.
Food competitions are regularly watched in our home – we’re currently undertaking Master Chef. We decided to have a baking competition of our own. Millie, Wells, and I mixed the cupcake batter and of course, they licked the beaters. We’re vegan. No raw eggs were consumed. Mills were topped with hot pink icing and Wells’ were blue. Of course the icing stained their lips and teeth. I let them add sprinkles and we tasted both cupcakes. It was decided that Millie’s tasted better because her sprinkles were less crunchy than the ones that Wells used. The cupcakes were served on Mickey and Minnie Mouse plastic party plates that the kids wouldn’t let me not buy at the store.
I got the feeling like we weren’t doing enough with the kids this summer. (Now that I’m typing everything out I can see that was absurd and just my anxiety.) I think because last summer we spent a week at the beach – financially, that wasn’t in the plans this year, I still wanted to do something special. I looked for activities relatively close so that we could plan a day trip. I had friends go visit the Ark Encounter in Kentucky and really love it. Chris was on board with the trip so we left on a rainy, Saturday morning. What better weather to visit the Ark? The car ride was three hours long but the kids rode perfectly. We took Noah’s Ark books to read along the way and we ate Tim Hortons; they love the birthday sprinkled Timbits.
When we got to the Ark, we had to take a charter bus to get on location. Wells thought he was hot stuff getting to sit in his own bus seat. Millie was so excited to see the beautiful, bright rainbow arch (Gods promise) entering the complex. The Ark was insanely massive; bigger than I could’ve ever imagined (the dimensions are actually listed in the Bible). I thought the kids would be overwhelmed by the size but they were excited to see the different exhibits inside. Millie thought the ancient animals (wax models) in the cages were creepy.
There was a petting zoo on location with lots of goats. Millie did not touch the goats (I don’t blame her – poop pellets were everywhere.) We got to watch a live, animal show with a scorpion (which glows under a black light – who knew?) a sugar glider (which made us miss Cooper), and a pig named, Festus that the kids got in stuffed form at the gift shop on the way out. The buffet on location was delicious and super accommodating to our vegan diet. There was a really awesome playground but Amelia got knocked over and the fun was over. Both kids fell asleep as soon as they were strapped in their car seats and slept the entire way home.
The next week of summer vacation was packed with fun activities. Millie and Wells made crown crafts from the library and decorated them with gems and stickers. We went to the pool and Millie went under the water with MawMaw (she did not like it). We took a trip to the Columbus Zoo with my friend Katey and saw the elephant baby, Frankie for the first time (He was so fuzzy!). Uncle Nick’s girlfriend came to town and we all went out to eat at CapCity Diner; it was our first time eating there, they gave us a private room, and the food was delicious!
Our last weekend of July was spent in Ligonier, Pennsylvania with our friends, and Millie’s Godparents, Jane and Todd and their two children, Maisey and Luca. Of course Mille and Wells were excited about Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood but they were most anxious to see their friends. The night before we were supposed to leave, Wells tripped in his crocs while helping me water the neighbors flowers. I could tell by his cry that he was in a lot of pain. He wasn’t bearing any weight on his left foot. Immediately, I knew he could have a toddlers fracture. We let him sleep it off and examined him the next morning. He was putting weight on the injured foot but was still limping. We decided to go forward with our PA trip and keep him mostly in the stroller. If his foot got worse, we’d have no choice but to get it checked out.
To start our road-trip, we grabbed Tim Hortons and I entertained the kids by putting Mickey Mouse characters on Chris’ seat (it’s the little things). Once we got there and met up with our friends, we went to the water park and the girls immediately ran to the kiddie splash area. Maisey wasn’t afraid to put her head under the water but Millie wasn’t trying it. Maise ended up drinking a lot of the water and was sick later in the evening, poor girl. Wells and I ended up standing under a bucket that poured an intense amount of water on my back. We had a great time swimming together. Luca dirtied a diaper and we put on dry clothes to enjoy the amusement park.
We grabbed a soft pretzel and some lemonade before watching the end of a Daniel Tiger show. There was a meet and greet afterward with Katerina and Daniel – Wells stayed on my hip and Millie was just curious enough to wave to them from afar. We rode on Trolley through the neighborhood (Millie informed Maisey that all the characters were made out of cardboard) and the weather shifted. Just before the sky opened up, we ran back to the parking lot and managed to stay dry while it stormed the rest of the afternoon.
After a thirty minute drive, we checked into our hotel. We met up with Jayne, Todd, Maisey, and Luca for dinner at a restaurant called, Sharkys. Wells loved their aquarium and we loved the food. That night, we all changed into our pjs and played games in the hotel lobby. The kids exchanged gifts, colored My Little Ponies, played with clay, ate sprinkled popcorn, had a dance party; it was awesome.
In the morning, we shared a breakfast table with the DiMascio’s and said our goodbyes. We left for the Pittsburgh Children’s Museum where they had a Daniel Tiger exhibit. The exhibit was amazing; it looked just like the show had come to life. We saw some of the original puppets from Mr.Rodgers’ Neighborhood and Mr.Rodgers’ red sweater. Wells enjoyed building Daniels neighborhood with blocks. Millie added a leaf to the “thank you” tree. The kids loved the interactive clock shop and the musical radio.
The rest of the Pittsburgh Children’s Museum was also loads of fun for the kids. Millie climbed up a super tall rope web, they launched balls on a track with a pulley system, they made car ramps, and created a musical assembly line. Wells and I went into a room at an angle. I literally ran us both into a wall (my knee caught the brunt of it.) Millie loved playing with the sand art and Wells liked the seesaw that blew bubbles. We grabbed a snack at the cafe before we left; Wells loved the bite-sized pancakes. The yellow bridges leaving Pittsburgh were cool. We definitely will visit PA again.
August was a blur. I started to have back-to-school meetings and by the 22nd we were all in. I tried to make each day we had left together, special. We visited the Columbus Zoo with my dad; the kids always have a great time with Papa. He rode on the carousel and bought them blue and pink cotton candy. Wells tried to feed the baby gorilla popcorn and the baby fell backwards! It was so sweet. We went to the Ohio State Fair with Chris’ parents (Grandma and Grandpa), his brother (Uncle Nick), and my friend Shauna. Both kids enjoyed riding on the rides and eating pineapple whip! We even watched a pig race. We swam a couple more times at Mawmaw’s pool; Millie was brave and went down the water slide! At home, we made cement garden stones, played with modo (a fragrance free play-dough), baked banana bread, and completed craft kits.
For my 30th birthday, Chris took me to Chicago. This was the first time that I spent a night away from Wells and we were gone for more than 48 hours. Chris’ parents stayed at our house and we FaceTimed them often. Both kids slept well for them! I was so impressed. My babies are growing up and it’s hard to believe that they won’t stay 4 and 2 forever.
As we settled into our new home we noticed a car that seemed to never move, parked outside our house. My friends assumed we bought a used car; it was always there, on the curb. One morning as I was watering the plants, our neighbor introduced herself to me, “I am 72 years old and we will never leave this home.” … our initial interaction was odd but I chalked that up to her age. The next morning as I was watering my hydrangeas I asked my neighbor if she knew who’s car was parked in front of my house, “Yeah, it’s mine”. After that, the car moved for about a week but then it was back for good.
I was chasing Mill up the sidewalk when I ran into a neighbor who was all too eager to gossip about everyone in our cul-de-sac. She told me that her neighbor was socially awkward (like he might keep women in his basement – her words not mine) and that the boys who ride their bikes around are autistic. Between her assumptions and fabrications she did spew some interesting information about my next door neighbor, “If the white car is out front, that means her son is living with them again”.
The interactions with those neighbors were minimal. We’d wave to the old man as he mowed his grass. I would talk to the woman about the weather as we watered our flowers. As the weather got colder and snow covered the streets, I would shovel their sidewalk along with mine. Millie and I made them a plate of cookies for Christmas; an assortment of cookies with a card that she signed. We bundled up and walked over to their house but left the cookies on the porch because nobody answered. (We assumed it was because of COVID.)
March rolled around and the kids were desperate to get outside. On a particularly nice evening, after dinner, we took a family walk. Chris pushed the stroller and we let Millie run around in the grass by the pond. As we were headed home, we ran into a friend of mine, a sales representative for instruments and repair. We knew that he lived in our neighborhood but had never seen him out before. As we were chatting, Mill and Wells were playing with his dog. During our conversation about home values and mulch fundraisers, he mentioned that he thought we lived in close proximity of a child sex offender; he thought the man lived on our street and that he might in fact be our next door neighbor. The conversation moved onto back patios and football then oddly enough, his neighbors lawn mower caught fire right in front of us. Even an explosion wasn’t enough to get my mind off of the potential threat to my family.
I sat on the couch, pulled out my phone, and frantically began searching the internet. Our county has a website that allows you to search for sex offenders near you. I typed in our home address and my fear was confirmed. We had five offenders within a two mile radius of us, with the closest being the house next door. The mugshot associated with the address was not of the owner of the home, but their son. The site listed his name, age, employer and his work address, crimes committed, vehicle description and license plate number. This confirmed that the white car in front of my home was his, a man convected of pandering a juvenile male.
My anxiety heightened as the night went on. “The children played outside in their bathing suits this summer! I literally walked Millie over to their porch to deliver Christmas cookies!” Chris and I knew that we had to have more answers before we started to assume the worst. The following day, Chris walked over to speak with the neighbors. I could see him from the window above my kitchen sink. The old couple sat with Chris on the porch for what felt like an eternity. When he came back home, the news was not comforting.
Our neighbors were incredibly forthcoming with information. They assumed we knew about their son, the sexual predator. Chris explained to them that we were unaware and that we were concerned for the well-being of our children. They commended Chris for wanting to protect his family and told him that he was the first person in the neighborhood to approach them with questions. They told Chris about their 46 year old son who had his doctorate in French studies. What started as one glass of scotch a night became two, three, four, etc. He began downloading child pornography – they claim he didn’t realize that the children in these videos were being abused. According to his parents, he went to court, lost everything, and was living with them because he was suicidal. He struggles with the guilt of knowing what he had participated in. He was assigned a probation officer and a physiatrist that he spoke with daily. He chose to do his grocery shopping during the school day while kids were at school, he limited his time spent outside, his internet rights were taken away – but in the six months his probation would end.
I feared the worst. Could my children ever play outside without me worrying? What if he hacks into our WiFi and illegally downloads filthy things and the police thinks it’s us?! I couldn’t wrap my mind around him watching the 15+ children on my street. Why wouldn’t his parents move him away from the temptation? I called the non-emergency police line and spoke with a deputy about my options. His words verbatim, “We protect those bastards and because he registers as an offender, he continues to have the same rights as everyone else.” I was advised to not say anything in the form of signs or fliers because I could be sued for defamation of character. The officers advice to us was to move away. He said, “Don’t play Russian roulette with your children.”
Watering my plants was no longer enjoyable. I was on high alert whenever I was outside. I was uncomfortable getting my mail, playing in the yard with the kids, and eating dinners on the patio. I knew it was time to get serious about moving. We contacted our realtor, who swears she had no idea about the proximity of the sex offender, and she put a for sale sign in our front yard. That sign was a visual representation of taking control of a dangerous situation. The market was insane but we sold our beautiful home (that we only lived in for eleven months) and we were able to move out of that neighborhood and into one with two schools within a mile (so no sex offenders can live there).
I remember the first interaction I had with that neighbor, telling me that she’d never leave – what a bizarre thing to say to someone you just met. Now I realize why she said it. She thought we knew about her son. She thought I was curious if the sex offender on the street would be moving any time soon. As I walked into the post office for a change of address form, I noticed a sign hanging on the lobby cork board with fines and penalties for sending illegal mail; $50k for reusing postage. $10K for sending child pornography. My eyes have been opened in a whole new, terrifying way.
This post has been so difficult for me to write because my current reality is incomprehensible. When you are able to read this, time will have lessened my waves of sorrow however, right now, it’s all very raw and emotional. I’m going to try my best to write through my grief so you can see your mother’s honest vulnerability.
On September 22nd 2019, your aunt, my only sister, completed her battle with bi-polar depression. How can I begin to explain the person she was? Words cannot describe her contagious laugh. The mere stories I will tell over the years will never give justice to her vibrant life. No longer is the person who would sing to you in your car seat to make you smile. How can I possibly make you feel just how much she loved you?
Your aunt was the sun, our Shani-sunshine.
Bright– Shani was so incredibly smart and she was such a good student. I teach with women who taught your aunt in grade school and they all loved her personality and work ethic. They refer to her as one of their favorite, most memorable students of their careers. Throughout her schooling, she had completed her masters degree in psychology and was working towards a Psy-D, Shani was always the “teacherspet”and proudly, the top of her class. I always thought, if Shani was in school, her mind was in the right place. I knew nothing about the mania that accompanies bi-polar disorder and what she felt necessaryfor the success in her prestigious, doctoral program. Her energy source was the same disorder that would lie to her and put her down.
Nurturing– Our bodies need the sun’s vitamins and you could call Shani, my vitamin D. If I was having a bad day, or I was walking alone in a parking lot, if I needed someone to talk to, Shani was only ever a phone call away. She loved to FaceTime with you and we would, daily. She was the first person to babysit you while I went to my six-week OB appointment and she took the sweetest pictures of you inside of your stocking. During the last phone conversation we had together, she commented on how sweet your little voice sounded and how much she missed you. We were making plans for her to come visit for your second birthday and how she thought I was ridiculous for wanting to rent a kangaroo.
Shani and I would talk about our futures with one another; pool side, on the porch, sitting on her bed in the early hours of the morning. She always said she would carry children for me if I wouldn’t have been able to. She was so excited when I told her I was pregnant for you. She said that she would be the “cool aunt” that you could go and live with during your rambunctious, teenage years. She wanted you to be able to talk to her about your crushes and all the awkward things you wouldn’t want your mom knowing about. She threatened me by saying that she’d tell you all about my years in high school. She had plans to help pay for your college. She had plans to care for you and her future family.
Your aunt knew a song for every occasion and she had an incredible voice. When she auditioned for women’s chorus in high school, she sang, “Lean on Me”, which is incredibly fitting for the friend that she was. If we couldn’t spend Thanksgiving Day together, she’d call me up and we’d sing the turkey song over the phone. On the day you were born, she kept singing, “Edelweiss”. Small and white, clean and bright. You look happy to meet me. She listened to all genres of music; gospel, show tunes, rap, country, etc. She even dabbled in recording. Her range was great and she had an ear for harmony. I had amazing opportunities to hear Shani sing; beautifully at a wedding reception, in the church at Bridgewater, and my favorite memory of her voice – singing to you cradled in her arms.
Shani cared for everyone. It didn’t matter race, sexual orientation, social status, etc. When we were kids, she would find dead mice in our garage and make beds for them out of old shoeboxes and try to keep them as pets; completely disregarding Gams wishes to throw the dead rodent away. In high-school, she started an equality club for the LGBTQ community (sorry if I didn’t use the correct acronym, Shani – she would be quick to correct me if it’s wrong). She got a speeding ticket in college while taking her sick roommate to the hospital. Shani had no money to give but she gave freely to friends and causes, despite what I had to say about it. She had clients who clung to her every word and had her cellphone number incase of emergencies.
Shani would make sure everyone was well fed. She loved tomato sandwiches in the summertime. Shani was always the one to cut up the fresh pineapple. Your aunt worked at Johnny Rockets, a diner where she would dance and sing in between serving milkshakes and she had so many regulars because of her bubbly personality. She had so much fun baking my bachelorette party cakes; one black and one white, you’ll understand that when you’re older. Shani was always first to try my vegan recipes and was supportive of our family’s lifestyle. Last year, she urged everyone in the family to stop using plastic straws for the sake of the sea turtles.
She took you to the beach when you were six months old and bought you toys to play with in the sand. She always bought you things that would help grow your brain. The Veggietales DVDs and Noahs Arc toy were gifts from her for your dedication because she wanted you to grow in Christ. She wrote you a book and bought you so many books; she didn’t just read them to you, but she encouraged you to read them aloud. Shani cared about the students that I taught, too. My second year of teaching, Shani bought my entire classroom clipboards for my birthday. She helped run a fundraiser for my class to get ukuleles. On her spring break, instead of sleeping-in, Shani ran the music for my choir concert.
I desperately wish that she could have turned off the voices inside her head that told her she wasn’t good enough. To everyone else, she was vitamin D.
Dazzling – Her beauty was effortless. We are so fortunate to live during a time where pictures and videos can be retrieved in seconds because some of her radiance was captured in those quick moments and short clips. She exuded confidence. (Now, I question how much of that was a facade due to her disorder.) Men wanted her and women wanted to be her. She would talk about getting her ears pinned back, having an eyelid procedure, and needing a boob-lift; I vetoed the surgical nonsense every time she brought up because your aunt needed none of that. She had the most shiny hair, the quirkiest placed dimple under her eye, an hourglass figure, a pixie nose, and most petite hands and feet. The Friday before Shani took her life, I told her that I wished she could see herself the way that I saw her, but now I know that the darkness of the disorder would prevent her from feeling that way.
Consistent with the rising sun is unforgiving darknessand unfortunately, Aunt Shani experiencedthat, too.
Your aunt struggled to find men who were worth a damn. There were plenty of men interested in her and she would date them when she felt like it but she was notorious for falling for the guys who needed, “fixing”; the divorcee, military men with ptsd, her exes. I told her many times, you can’t force someone to change and that we only have control of ourselves – but the disorder kept her from having control of her feelings. Shani told me that she would never, “settle” in a relationship and that she believed in soul mates; I argued with her about this. I wanted her to find stability in a relationship. Now, I wish I could have done more to help her obtain stability within herself.
We shouldn’t stare directly at the sun. I would wait for the “right time” to tell my sister things, not knowing how she would react. If you would ask Shani a personal question about her love life, significant choices, or her mental state, she would quickly change the subject, get irritated and defensive, and remind you that she was, “fine”. My sunscreen was you. No matter how frustrated she’d be with me for asking too many questions or how upset she’d get when I wouldn’t agree with her on a political stance, I could change the subject to you and her entire attitude would change. She always agreed with my parenting choices and would never tire of the stories I’d tell her about you.
I don’t remember life before my sister was born because as far back as I can remember, shes been there. Shani has always been there just as the sun has been burning for 4 billion years. I never thought I’d have to live life without her. Life ceases to exist without the sun and I’m having an impossible time without mine. Learning to navigate this changed world is incredibly difficult; the finalization of death. There are nights when the tears won’t end. I no longer listen to the radio or watch television for the fear that something will remind me of her. I have to push myself to speak to my friends, do anything outside the house for myself, and celebrate the holidays. And I’m sorry for the times you see me crying in the kitchen – I just hate that you’ll never get the opportunity to be in your Aunts wedding or to hear her beautiful voice at Christmas time.
But you, my love, are a light and I need you to know that during this time of heavy darkness, you will forever be my saving spark, my energy source, and the illumination that keeps me going. I pray that God will carry us through this time of heartache and that Shani is resting in paradise with our Heavenly Father.
National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255
I love you, Ashani Leigh Pompey and I’ll never stop. It sucks that we can’t make any new memories together but I know that one day, I’ll get to see you face to face and tell you all about this crazy, beautiful life. On the other side, my baby sis, my sunshine.
Maw yelled to the kids, “Stay off the rocks around the pond; they’re wobbly!”
On an unusually warm day in early March, Millie and Wells were playing on my grandmas patio. Wells was finding pebbles (Presumably putting them in his mouth. Once, he spit out four rocks into my hand.) and Millie was rearranging a fairy garden as I tidied up their things, preparing to leave for the day. We waved goodbye to Maw as I backed out of her carport. I called Chris to meet us at the park on his way home but not five minute later, I called him back to tell him that both kids fell asleep. Babies sleeping in car seats always look soscrunched.
Unbeknown to me, Maw decided to leaf blow her patio. Without following her own advice, “Stay off the rocks around the pond; they’re wobbly!”, she stood on the rocks to blow away fallen leaves. I received a phone call from my mom, “Don’t freak out.” Maw was on her way to the hospital.
While leaf blowing, Maw stood on a wobbly rock and fell onto her hip, precisely on the edge of her patio step. She turned herself onto to her stomach and army crawled back into the house where she contacted my uncle, trying to avoid an ambulance ride. While she waited for him to arrive, she crawled herself into the kitchen and ate a lemon cookie. Who’s grandma breaks their hip and struggles into the kitchen to curb her sweet tooth?!
My uncle did not feel like he could safely lift my grandmother so begrudgingly, Maw went to the hospital in a squad. I was desperate to be with her but due to COVID restrictions, only one person could accompany her during her stay. Maw refused pain medication. She was taken for an MRI where it was determined she had a fractured hip bone. The next day, she received a full hip replacement.
Thank God the surgery went well.
The next day, Maw went home to recover. I was in disbelief with how quickly she was discharged. Maw had two weeks of around the clock, family supervision. I stayed over one night, Wells came with me because I was still breastfeeding, and that helped to lift her spirits. It was difficult to see her in pain as she maneuvered her way on and off the bed. I ordered her a hip kit that had long levers to help her with her independence without having to bend at the waist. I also installed a toilet lift so she didn’t have to squat down to use the restroom. She had physical therapists come to her house and they were extremely kind. “Most seventy year olds haven’t left the bed yet and you’re getting around so well!”
As Maw was healing, she also felt guilty for leaving me without childcare. She watched both babes while Chris and I work and with this falling accident, she was out of commission for at least six weeks. I called thirteen child care facilities, desperate to find a reputable establishment that would accept my kids in the middle of the school year, and most could not accommodate both children. Finally, I found a school that could take both kids however, they were almost $3K a month – completely out of our budget.
We were incredibly blessed with beautiful people willing to help us during this stressful time. My friend Lindsey was available to watch the kids on her days off and my friend Shauna babysat the kids while she worked from my couch. My friend and co-worker Amy spoke to her in-home childcare provider who was able to watch my kids on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She was affordable, an easy commute, and had glowing recommendations from other teachers who trusted her care. She was reliable and kind. This was a God send.
A week into our new childcare schedule (Chris watched the kids while he worked from home on Monday and Friday, Tuesday and Thursday the kids went to Rhondas, and Wednesday was a wildcard.) we noticed bite marks on Wells. One on his arm and one on his foot. I noticed that the size of the bite mark was small but there were a lot of teeth. It was confirmed that a little girl with dwarfism was eating Wells up. We found out that she had done this to other kids before and with a new baby brother at home, she started biting again. Another bite happened on his belly and one on his leg. His parents were mortified. Wells learned to say, “No bite!” Which came out as, “O ite”. They actually became sweet friends.
Millie loved playing with the children all day. There were two girls her age; they’d put on tattoos, draw pictures, make necklaces, and put on singing performances like JoJo Siwa. Millie would help me pack their lunches the night before; picking out what fruits and vegetables she wanted included. For breakfast, I would put a pack of pop tarts in Millie’s lunch bag and it was her job to share one with Wells. Millie’s social interactions confirmed for me that she was ready for preschool in the fall (more on that in a later post).
Rhonda was so great with our Vegan lifestyle. If there was a birthday celebration, she would make sure there were dairy-free cupcakes for my kids. She gave every child an Easter basket and ours had vegan treats and thoughtful, personalized gifts. The kids noticed that others were eating chicken nuggets for lunch so Millie mentioned that they eat vegan “chicky nugs” at home. Rhonda bought them and kept them stocked in the freezer. It was extremely comforting knowing the sitter was accepting of our dietary needs.
Since starting childcare outside of our home, our family has never been more sick. Someone has had a snotty nose, sore throat, fever, goopy eyes – you name it, since March. We were in and out of doctors appointments every other week; amoxicillin for ear infections, two different eye drops, Tylenol Fever Reducer, Tylenol Cold and Cough. We had a fully stocked pharmacy in our medicine cabinet. Anytime I would try to plan something fun for us to do on the weekend, Millie would spike a fever and Wells would have snot hanging from his nose. We rotated viruses around the house. The germs from childcare were worse than my first year teaching (and I thought that was a kick to the immune system). I’m praying that Millie will have some antibodies to help her with the germs she’ll be around in pre-K.
Wells’ second birthday party was postponed – if we had the party on its scheduled date, it would have been the day Maw got home from surgery. A month after the party was originally supposed to be held, we threw Wells a shark themed birthday and Maw was there to help us celebrate. Maw didn’t let her hip keep her from the kids during the holidays. Millie and I went over to Maw’s house for Saint Patrick’s Day and we decorated shamrock cookies with green glitter and crafted a clover garland out of toilet paper rolls. For Easter, we went to Maw’s community celebration where the kids got to hunt for eggs and win door prizes. It was fun for the children but I was concerned about Maw getting hurt; she could have fallen down, gotten pushed over by a kid, tripped. etc. My anxiety was high.
Three months later and Maws hip healed. She was diligent with her therapy and put in the hard work to feel better. She has a gnarly scar. Her knee is giving her trouble but the hip surgeon mentioned that her knee locked up during the surgery – it could be something she gets work on down the road. She watched a video of a hip replacement on FaceBook and the force that was used to hammer the joint in place could have very well been what affected her knee. Wells will continue to need childcare in the fall and we will split the week between Maw and Rhonda. This will allow Maw to schedule appointments during the week and some much earned rest time after running after Wells.
A cognitive speech delay refers to the condition of children whose speech function is significantly below the expected average for their age.
Wells was such a ham at the pediatricians office for his 18 month appointment. He proudly walked onto the scale, waved at every nurse in the hallway, and peeked his head into another room to say, “hi” to the doctor. As we waited for our visit, I was given a behavior and intellect survey. I quickly became aware of what the average 18 month old could do and what my son could not. “Does your child put two words together to make a short phrase?” We clap when Wells says half of a word correctly. “Does your child say 50+ words?” Does “eee” count as a word? I looked over at Wells, sitting with his ankles crossed on the table, and my eyes begin to well.
His doctor reassured me that because he’s male and has a talkative older sister, we shouldn’t be worried. “It just hasn’t clicked for him yet.” I asked about a speech therapist however, that was not an option for Wells because he had no other signs of delayed development. She said, “He’s content; it’ll come. Model speech. Incorporate more sign language and give him choices.” I was told at his two year appointment we will reevaluate, which put a timeline on us, and that pressure was heavy.
Wells’ hearing has been checked. When he was born he didn’t pass his first hearing exam in the hospital; he had womb fluid in his ears. Before we left the hospital, Wells passed his hearing test. At eighteen months, Wells understands what we ask of him; cognitively, he is fine. Wells has great social skills; he plays with his sister and other children. Wells might not speak words yet but he communicates through pointing, body language, sign language, and grunts. Every adult is, “mama” right now (which absolutely destroys Chris because he still doesn’t say, “dada”). When Wells would call Chris, “mama” Chris would respond, “No. Say, ‘dada. Da-da’”. After doing some research, we learned saying, “no” to his vocalizations could actually hinder him from attempting to speak.
Following some advice from my best friend, Lindsey, I began following some vocal pathologists and speech therapists on social media. Watching their stories and reading their posts made me feel like we weren’t alone with Wells’ speech delay. A particular post caught my eye that read, Early Intervention; not “wait” and see, check and see. The post was about support for children 18-36 months old with cognitive delays. Our pediatrician said that insurance would not cover speech therapy until he turned two however, this program was state funded as long as the child qualified. I decided to fill out the questionnaire and I received a phone call within a week to schedule a virtual evaluation.
For the virtual evaluation, Millie got doughnuts with Mawmaw so Chris and my full attention could be on Wells. Signed into the Zoom meet was the Help Me Grow service coordinator, OT (occupational therapist), and a speech pathologist. Chris held the phone and I played on the floor with Wells with the toys that HMG recommended; blocks, Little People, books, Melissa and Doug knob puzzles, balls, etc. The therapists asked questions about his daily routine and his skills. We were all so impressed with how much Wells was showing off. He acknowledged the specialists, he stacked blocks 12 high, he identified colors and body parts, he jumped like a frog, and made animal sounds!
The specialists were using the Bell Curve to determine if he would qualify for state-funded therapy. He scored extremely high in the motor skills and comprehension categories. Once his speech score was included, it dropped his score significantly but not enough to qualify for state funded help. I was devastated. Without hesitation, I began advocating for Wells and the help that I knew he needed. I mentioned that we had taken advice from a speech therapist that I work with and that we were not seeing improvement in his speech. I reiterated the frustration we feel, especially Wells, when he can’t communicate his needs. Thankfully, the speech pathologist on the video conference heard me. She said, “My clinical opinion trumps the Bell Curve score. It is my opinion that Wells needs intervention in expressive speech and I will take him on my case load.”
The next step was to meet with HMG to compose an IFSP (Individual Family Service Plan). An IFSP is provided based on the concerns of the family and the child’s needs. The plan must include: an assessment of a child’s present levels of development, a statement of goals, support services that will be put in place to achieve those goals, date services will begin, and the identification of the service coordinator. A re-evaluation is done every 6 months. Wells’ goals were to expand his expressive vocabulary and to use family names ie. Mia, Dada, Papa etc.
We were able to schedule in-home meetings, twice a month. Wells’ speech therapist’s name is Katie and she is extremely kind. We meet around Wells’ nap time so he’s not been in the best of moods however, she lets him draw in her planner and he loves that. She listens to Wells while he plays and gives Chris and I ways to better communicate with him. Our first assignment was, “imitation”; getting Wells to copy the faces we made and then asking him to repeat a word. We also were encouraged to sing with him and let him fill in the words. Katie also told us to stop saying, “Wells say …” and since we’ve stopped putting him on the spot, he’s picked up more words. Because Wells is so active and advanced in his motor skills, Ms. Katie recommend we add repetitive words to movement like, “One, two, three, jump!” Verbal routines and elimination ie. “ready, set, go” multiple times then “ready, set” and he should fill in the blank with “go”. After a month of speech therapy, Wells seems more confident in trying new words.
Millie and Wells met a little girl while watching the penguins swim at the Newport Aquarium. Millie introduced herself right away, full name and age. The little girl introduced herself. Wells puts both hands on his chest and said, “Wells”. I got tears in my eyes; I was so proud of him. He knew what the girls were saying and without being prompted, he joined the conversation. He also has started babbling. It’s not often but it is encouraging because he is using his tongue, “dee di do do da da”. When he uses his little voice he has the sweetest smile on his face – he knows it pleases us.
Here is a running list of Wells’ said words (not all consonants are there but he attempts) :
Mama
Mawmaw
Gam
Eat
Couch
Hi
Bye
Bean
Corn
Drink
Wells
Bath
Mickey
Blue
Red
Yellow
Pink
Bluey
One, Two, Three, Four, Five
Green
Eyes
Teeth
Nose
Mouth
Toes
Read
Run
Mine
No
Beep
Warm
Cold
Hot
Home
Mouse
Up
Down
Out
Yeah
Clean
Swing
Please
Slide
Phone
Crying
Quack
Meow
Car
Yum
Cream
Candy
Ice
Ready
Everyone has an opinion on Wells’ delay and the resources we are giving him. I’ve heard, “Once he starts talking you won’t get him to shut up!” This comment was not helpful. When we are dealing with Wells completely melting down when he can’t communicate his needs, his verbal skills when he’s older does not help him now. “Boys are late talkers, he’s fine.” My son is more than fine. He is beautiful, healthy, and intelligent. He is getting help for a diagnosed delay. “It could be worse.” Chris and I are very blessed and we are aware that Wells’ speech delay is a mild impairment compared to other children who have more severe delays. We also know that this is our reality and we are trying our best to provide Wells with the best possible resources to be successful with speech and will continue to aide him with any other aspect of life.
On March 3rd 2020, I delivered Wells with my husband, grandmother, father, and photographer in the room. If I would have had him on his due date, just two weeks later, I would have had to birth him alone. While we packed up our bags from our hospital stay, breaking news declared a mask mandate in Chicago and we feared Ohio would be next. We asked my nurse for masks; “I’m sorry, we are down to our last two boxes on this floor.” Chris immediately regret discarding his mask from labor and delivery.
My mom planned to stay with us for six weeks; helping with Millie and the housework while I focused on healing and bonding with Wells. Chris didn’t get any paternity leave so my moms help was a Godsend. A week after we came home from the hospital, the government shut down the state boarders around New York; my mom couldn’t stay with us indefinitely if Ohio chose to follow suit. Selfishly, I wanted my mom to stay and help but alas, my mom went back to Virginia.
Planning for this pregnancy, we knew that I would not get paid for the entirety of my maternity leave. My sick days accrue; if I work a month without taking a sick day, I earn a day of sick time. I had proudly saved twenty sick days which meant I would get two pay checks during my six-week maternity leave. After my sister passed in September of 2019, I used three weeks of my sick time, grieving her loss. On top of being pregnant and losing my sister, I was definitely stressed about the amount of unpaid leave I would have to take. Fortunately, I was able to borrow a weeks worth of sick time from myself so we would receive at least one paycheck during my six-week, maternity leave.
I had one sick day left to use when I got a phone call from a friend and fellow teacher that we were going to start teaching, virtually. Could I also workvirtually (make money) while still on maternity leave? I was able to convince my OB that I could, “return” to work as long as work meant teaching from my couch. I fed Wells, Millie watched Mickey Mouse Club House, and I was posting music assignments at the same damn time. The pandemic allowed me to stay home for 21 weeks without a single, unpaid day.
As if new mothers aren’t paranoid enough, add a global pandemic to the mix. Thankfully, Chris’ company assigned his department to work from home so we weren’t getting germs from his job. Groceries were bought through delivery services and bags were sanitized at the door. Once Wells gained back his birth weight and was no longer jaundiced, we didn’t take him to another pediatric appointment until he was six months old. I should have gone to my six week OB appointment – I didn’t. I had a terrible, terrible pain in my right nipple from a latch issue – I didn’t receive outside help. My cousin unexpectedly passed away and we didn’t attend her funeral. I wasn’t comfortable breaking our “bubble”, so we stayed in.
Chris working from home turned out to be a blessing. He was able to hold Wells during his lunch hour and help change diapers between meetings. Wells definitely got more time with daddy due to the pandemic. I had planned on spending quality time watching Cubs baseball during my maternity leave, but the season was postponed and there was no baseball to be watched. We used this time at home to potty train Millie. She didn’t like feeling poop in her diaper so she would take the diaper off and the poo would get everywhere – it was time. We stripped her naked, packed away the diapers, gave her tons to drink throughout the day and constantly encouraged her to sit on the potty. We rewarded her, even if she sat on the toilet just to toot. We bought her cute undies with Frozen characters on them. We experienced more victories than accidents, but there were many accidents, especially when we would play outside. Within the month, she was completely potty trained.
The week before Wells was born, our realtor called wanting to show us a house that checked every box on our “wish list”. We dropped Millie off at my dads and I waddled through the open house. It was in a neighborhood with better schools, gave us a thousand more square feet, and had a fenced in backyard. Also, homes in our neighborhood were selling quickly at above asking price. The market was right, the house was perfect, but I was doubting how the timeline would work for us. The same day Wells was born, our offer on the house was accepted.
The worst part of selling our home during the pandemic was having to leave the house during showings; there was no where to go because everything was closed so we would load both kids in the Jeep and drive around, praying that no one entering our home was COVID positive. I would sit my postpartum butt between the two car seats and read to the kids while we ordered French fries through the Burger King drive through. The house inspectors and appraisers were weeks behind because of the shutdown. The contractors that installed our new floors had to break for two weeks because they had been in close contact with COVID-19.
All of our activity memberships expired; COSI, Franklin Park Conservatory, the Zoo. Zumbini went virtual and we tried classes through Zoom but Millie lost interest. She was getting stir crazy staying home; heck, I was too, so we would do at least one activity together everyday. It was nice to spend some one-on-one time with her because well, Wells. She loved when I would ask her to wash the dishes in the sink or when I’d let her scrub her toys. We made multi-colored foam in her water table. I taped shapes on the floor for her to organize her blocks. She loved to finger paint. We colored eggs for Easter. We became quite the bakers; she loved watching the baking competition shows and trying new recipes. We jumped in puddles on rainy afternoons and watched for, “sworms”. We would adventure in our yard where she found some fallen pine cones which she called, “coconuts”. If we were blessed with good weather, Chris would take Millie to the park across the street on his lunch break; until yellow caution tape was wrapped around the slides and the playground was off limits to promote social distancing.
The holidays were different, to say the least. We celebrated Palm Sunday by fanning around artificial leaf decorations left over from Millie’s second birthday and blowing bubbles in the back yard. Thankfully, I bought Easter gifts early because most stores were shut down. Church was virtual and we watched Easter service from my phone. Maw surprised us by decorating our tree in the front yard with eggs shaped like rabbits and ducks. She didn’t come in because she knew she’d want to hold the kids and she just couldn’t. (She had been in and out of the hospital after our cousin’s liver transplant and it just wasn’t safe to be around each other.) There was no Fourth of July parade and although we heard fireworks all through the night, we could not see any.
In November, Millie turned three and our governor had given clear instructions that no more than 10 people were allowed to gather together. Realizing I couldn’t throw Mill the birthday that I wanted for her, made me empathetic towards those who had to cancel their events due to the pandemic; weddings, trips, graduation parties, etc. It broke my heart to tell family members and friends that they could not come over to celebrate with us. So on Millie’s third birthday, my parents and the in-laws came over to celebrate and we FaceTimed others while she blew out her candles.
One very ordinary evening in December, Chris had a sore throat. Neither of us thought anything of it until he had chills throughout the night. He called our family doctor who then scheduled him to be tested for COVID. By the time of his test, he felt like he had been hit by a truck; even sitting was painful. Chris received a positive covid test and two days later, Wells and I had symptoms; body aches, fatigue, and a fever to follow. Wells slept the worst he ever had in his life. I could tell by his cry that he was in pain. Following suite, within the next two days, my grandmother who watches the kids during the week was symptomatic. Her and I both lost our taste and smell. Covid had infested our family.
Five days after Chris tested positive, Mill still had no signs of the virus. We were so impressed with her immune system! We must not have knocked on wood quick enough because without warning, my energetic fire ball was melting into the couch. Millie was lethargic and had a fever of 100.3. We called the pediatrician and she told us to give her children’s Tylenol and monitor her symptoms. We put her in the bath tub and encouraged fluids. Once the medicine was in her system, she was back to her normal self. You could tell when the medicine would start to wear off – she’d slow down, get rosy cheeks, and her eyes would gloss over. She took her medicine while I sang, “Just a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down.” Sweet girl didn’t fight it at all. Her symptoms lasted 48 hours.
The virus did not keep us from:
Worshipping the Lord
Celebrating birthdays
Going to VA
Playing in the snow (Millie makes the best snow angels)
Moving my grandma into a new condo
Making Christmas cookies and giving them to our neighbors
Sending Valentine’s cards
Going to the zoo
Dedicating Wells
Not everyone had our same comfort level for socialization during the pandemic. We were not fearful of a virus with a 98% survival rate, we had faith in our immune systems, and we agreed with Pastor Doyle when he spoke about togetherness. Unfortunately, many family members missed out on important birthdays, holidays, and other once in a lifetime events because of their own anxieties about safety. The thought process was, “I want to be around for the holidays that they’ll remember.” but no one can guarantee tomorrow. [Millie (3) and Wells (1) just because you might not remember this year, doesn’t make your experiences any less valuable. I’m blogging so that if one day you don’t remember, my words may be enough.]
“If you’re a pandemic baby and you’ve been in quarantine your whole life, you get overstimulated by everything ’cause all the strangers that you see have masks on, and you’ve never really had a playdate in your life.”
I worry about how much this year has affected our children. One year out of my thirty is nothing, but one year to my three year old? That’s a third of her life. Wells? His entire life. Children aren’t as resilient as we like to think, you know? Why do so many adults find themselves in therapy – childhood trauma. We have absolutely no idea the ramifications of living this closed off, pandemic life. Millie was supposed to start dance this year and Wells doesn’t know what it’s like to be around other children. I’m heartbroken and concerned for our children, this generation now labeled as, “Gen C”.
Crazy things about COVID:
This started during an election year.
People hoarded toilet paper and sold it for obscene amounts of money on the internet.
Your Great, Great Uncle Bobby, who is bedridden in a nursing home (suffers from strokes) survived the virus!
There were directional arrows on the floors of stores and MawMaw became the aisle police. Although, she told me if I needed to go down an aisle with an arrow facing the opposite direction, to just walk backwards and act like I “forgot” something.
Millie was told she had to wear a mask upon entering the Disney store.
People were also concerned about murder hornets (I’m still not positive about the murders – were they murdering bees? People?)
The sports stadiums were empty (they broadcasted with fake audience cheers, it was bizarre) but some stadiums offered fans to buy cardboard cutouts of themselves to place in the seats. Gam got Millie a cutout for the Shoe so she was “at” the Buckeye games.
I thought I’d finish this blog post months ago (I began writing in August of 2020) but the pandemic trudged on. Ohio is now in a state of “purple” meaning we are worse off when we were in the “red” during our initial shutdown (the colors are arbitrary). Children are back in school full time, sporting events are being held with spectators, vaccines are being administered through drive-thrus – I don’t know what’s next for parenting in the pandemic but I’m glad this blog can be updated because I’m sure it’s not over.
My father being in the delivery room was not in my birth plan. He bought a “little brother” onesie from the hospital gift shop and to his surprise, I was mid-push in active labor when he came to show me. He watched as Wells entered the world and was placed upon my chest. My dad went out into the waiting room where his wife, my step-mom, was watching Millie. She asked my dad how I liked the onesie and was completely surprised when he told her that baby Wells was born! He explained that the baby had been delivered while he was “delivering” the outfit. Together, my dad and step-mom brought Millie to the delivery room to meet her baby brother.
Millie stood nervously at the entrance of the room until her daddy welcomed her over to my bedside. She ran with great two-year-old-gusto into his arms. He kissed her on the head as he lifted her up to see the new baby. Millie saw Wells sleeping in my arms. “Oh, baby Wells!” After the many months of telling Mille that she was going to have a baby brother, she finally was able to meet him. Chris and I were given matching hospital bracelets that linked us to baby Wells and the nurse gave Millie a bracelet that said, big sister. It was purple and adorable but Mill didn’t like it around her wrist and had the nurse cut it off. Sitting on the bed, she sang him, “Happy Birthday”.
The nurse took Wells to get his measurements and Millie followed; she wanted to be where her little brother was. Millie demanded her daddy, “pick me up” so she could have a better view of Wells. She informed the nurse that she was the big sister and made a comment about her stethoscope (a word she picked up from watching Doc McStuffins). The nurse was very impressed with her vocabulary and let her wear the stethoscope around her neck. To my surprise, Wells weighed over eight pounds! I was in disbelief because my ultrasound the week prior, the tech said he was weighing in at less than seven. After having Millie, a 4.8lb baby, Wells was giant! As Wells started to fuss, Millie got upset. She was already protective of her little brother.
Millie was to come back to the hospital the next day to take “fresh 48” photos (pictures taken within the first 48 hours after birth). I found out that Millie had gotten sick after eating breakfast. She had never thrown up before. I blame the puking on her grandparents because I guarantee they gave her way too much sugar. The hospital pediatrician said it was okay that she come up as long as she wasn’t running a fever. (The world was very different a week before the lockdown.) Millie bulldozed into the room and no one would have ever guessed that she got sick earlier in the day. She had on an outfit that matched her brother’s.
We laid Wells on some pillows next to Millie in the hospital bed. She was so curious; she kept trying to pull his hair up to see how long it was. “I hold him, daddy?” She rested her cheek on his head and it about melted my heart.
At 33 weeks pregnant with Millie, my OB instructed me to go to labor and delivery. I felt miserable; pounding headaches, swelling to point of discomfort, dizziness and fatigue. I left the OBs office completely unable to accept the reality of induction. Instead of rushing to the hospital, I had my husband take me to Arby’s. As I pumped ketchup onto my tray, a lady grabbing napkins said to me, “If you have a girl and see blood in her diaper, don’t be alarmed, it’s her hormones.” What? Suddenly, I had lost my appetite for ketchup.
33 weeks came and went during my second pregnancyyet, everyday the thought of preeclampsia was a very real concern. I checked my blood pressure with an at-home monitor, I constantly analyzed the size of my ankles, and I actually iced and elevated my feet at night. 34 weeks into my pregnancy, we lost my step-father due to a massive heart attack, just four months after unexpectedly, losing my sister. I was fearful that the grief and stress would throw me into labor but thankfully, the baby stayed put.
37 weeks of pregnancy is considered full term; something I never was able to experience with Millie. I still feel a tinge of guilt for not being able to carry her longer. I was ecstatic to have made it to term with this pregnancy and also surprised I didn’t feel entirely miserable. Don’t get me wrong, the pelvic pressure was painful and sleeping comfortably was a challenge, but life wasn’t completely intolerable; nothing like what 33 weeks pregnant with preeclampsia felt like. My OB said we made it to term because of the daily dose of baby aspirin but I like to think that he was comfortable in my sisters arms, in heaven.
At 37 weeks and 6 days, I started having contractions seven minutes apart. Laying in bed, I would check my phone with each pain; 3:07, 3:14, 3:21. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, I was being woken up by my alarm. As I was getting ready for work, my husband urged me to stay home and call the doctor. Wanting to save my sick time, I went in to teach. During my planning period, I called my OB to tell him I had contractions through the night. He responded, “get to labor and delivery”. I drove home, snuggled with Mill on the couch, and waited for my baby daddy to come home. My husband packed the car, we kissed Millie goodbye, and this time, we didn’t stop for a cherry turnover.
When we arrived at the hospital, we were sent into triage where a nurse took my temperature, blood pressure, checked my lungs and pulse, and she gave me a sani-wipe and cup to collect my urine. As I sat down on the toilet, I opened the wipe and simultaneously, it jumped out of my hands! The wet wipe flew through the air, nearly six feet, before hitting the tile floor! Reactively, I screamed and then I couldn’t stop laughing! My husband and the nurse thought I was crazy but it kept the atmosphere light; labor terrified me after my experience with Mill.
My vitals were normal except my blood pressure, 118 over 96. The nurse explained that the reading was a mistake; the bottom number “didn’t match” the top number. She checked it again; 135 over 95. She seemed concerned that the readings were slightly elevated so she was going to consult the resident doctor on duty. Of course I was stressing thinking that the pre-e had returned but there were no traces of protein in my urine, so that kept me sane. Waiting for my blood pressure to go down, I ate a bag of mini pretzels, watched an episode of Friends (ironically, it was the episode where Rachel and Ross are at the gynecologist), texted my parents, and peed again. The nurse returned, checked my BP, and it was even higher than before! Over and over again, the cuff would squeeze my arm, release the pressure, and I would dauntingly peek at the numbers on the monitor; my blood pressure remained high. The resident doctor, who looked younger than me, asked about my birth plan. I explained to her that if the preeclampsia had returned, I wanted a c-section, which had been discussed numerous times with my OB. She began explaining to me why she would not give me a c-section, even if the pre-e had returned. I stopped her and said, “I know that I am able to elect for a cesarean birth.” I was no longer interested in speaking to this resident. My blood pressure reading was highest after that conversation.
My OB was in the hospital giving a tour to a newly hired doctor in the practice, so he stopped by my room to discuss my, “options”. He told me that he was admitting me for gestational hypertension. He explained that my history with pre-e made him too concerned to send me home with an elevated blood pressure. The doctor informed us that there were risks to induction, especially premature lung development, particularly in boys. A day before Millie was born, a steroid shot was administered into my leg to better develop her lungs. Unfortunately, there is no evidence shows the steroid being effective after 34 weeks of pregnancy, so the shot was not an option this time around.There is a fine line between gestational hypertension and pre-eclampsia and my doctor thought the induction outweighed the risks, given my history. Gestational hypertension is a form of high blood pressure and it occurs in about 6 percent of all pregnancies.Delivery heals the mother from the hypertension.
I was being induced for a vaginal birth, with a c-section as plan B if my blood pressure continued to rise. The doctor promised me that this delivery would be different than my first and that I was being closely monitored. I signed some papers, shoved my underwear into my purse, and tightly held my husbands hand as we left triage. I was full term. This baby spent weeks longer in utero compared to Millie. I’ve done this before; affirmations I told myself walking to labor and delivery.
We started the induction at 4pm with a twelve hour dose of cervadil; a vaginal insert that ripens the cervix. Like a tampon, the medicine is attached to a string. Unlike a tampon, it is placed super far up the vaginal canal (I swear, the nurse was elbow deep). The first four hours on the cervadil were a breeze – mild cramping. My grandma brought Millie to see us before her bedtime. This was the first night that I wasn’t sleeping under the same roof as her. It broke my heart when she didn’t want anything to do with me. She was scared of the machines and my IV.
I was uncomfortable during the next four hours as the contractions grew stronger and closer together. Around 3am, I wanted the epidural but I was only 3cm dilated. The resident OB wanted to wait on ordering the epidural until I dilated further so he offered to give me pain meds through my IV to take off the edge. I urged both him, and the nurse to consult with my doctor because we had discussed this exact situation after my traumatic experience with Millie. I had dilated so quickly with her that I was unable to get the epidural and I did not want that to happen again. Thankfully, they consulted my doctor who approved the epidural.
I gave birth to Millie without an epidural and I was not about to do that again. Although, I was scared that the epidural would hurt, that I would move during insertion and become paralyzed, that it wouldn’t take, or that the baby’s heart rate would drop, I was terrified of another natural labor. I was overwhelmed with the pain from the contractions so I pulled up a video of Millie on my phone, to focus my energy on her pure joy. As I watched, tears rolled down my cheeks; partially due to the pain I was experiencing but also because of my love for her. I was assured that the anesthesiologist was the best they had. He was an older man who talked me through everything he was doing. My husband was asked to wear a mask and a hair cap while the procedure took place. He held my hands as I sat up straight, at the edge of the bed. The medicine felt like a bead of cold water rushing down my spine. I do not remember any pain during insertion. Slowly, my legs started feeling heavy and I knew the epidural had worked.
Pitocin was administered and for the next two hours, 4:30-6:30am, I experienced some mild cramping. The epidural provided great relief to the clinching pain of the earlier contractions. My grandma had joined us in the birthing room. Her presence was calming as she rubbed my legs. My birth photographer, Sarah Shambaugh, arrived and began taking pictures of the process. Around 6:30, it felt like I needed to poop; nothing hurt, I just felt a sense of urgency. I remembered feeling that way before Millie was born and I knew it was time to push. The nurse examined me and sure enough, I was fully effaced and 9.5cm dilated. The nurse called my doctor, who was twelve minutes away. Longest twelve minutes of my life.
I was instructed not to push until my OB arrived. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks in response to the discomfort I was enduring. I told my husband that I didn’t care to wait for my doctor any longer, as long as someone would catch my baby, I needed to start pushing. My bed was raised, nurses helped lift my legs into the stirrups, and a resident doctor began dressing to do the job. In that same moment, my doctor entered the room and prepared for the delivery. I breathed a sigh of relief while grimacing through a contraction.
Pushing was difficult because I couldn’t exactly feel what I was supposed to be doing due to the epidural. I was anxious to push and didn’t like the wait time between contractions. I forced all of my energy down and with every push, the baby moved further through the canal. My doctor was so supportive; using words of encouragement and massaging the tissue so I wouldn’t tear. My father snuck into the room and held up a “little brother” onesie as a means of encouragement. The thought was endearing but I also didn’t want my dad to see my vagina. My husband helped lift my head up towards my chest and my grandma pulled my legs back while I pushed. I could not understand why this labor was taking so long – comparatively to my three push labor with Millie. My OB used his hands to turn the baby’s head in a more opportune position. Impatient, I decided that I didn’t want to wait for the next contraction to start pushing again and that is when the baby progressed enough that my doctor could see the hair on his head. My husband looked – gross. My doctor predicted that the next push would do it; I would meet my son.
Clinched teeth, chin to chest, toes curled; all of the tension released when Wells was born. It is absolutely amazing how exhaustion and pain evaporate away the moment of birth. A wiggly, slime-covered, baby boy was placed on my chest and my entire being began taking him in; he was heavy, he was pink, he had hair, and he was crying. My husband cut the umbilical cord as nurses suctioned fluid from his mouth. We stayed skin-on-skin while my family met him. When it was time to feed him, he latched quickly and correctly, which made nursing simple. While he was on my breast, I felt the bottom of his little feet; so soft.
My sweet, perfect boy. Life may be unpredictable, but my love for you will forever be constant. Welcome to the world, Wells.
I only know myself as a big sister; I don’t remember being an only child for the first two years of my life. I am a big sister to, two awesome people who I will always see as, kids. I cherish the memories of helping my brother get ready for school in the morning and talking through the bunk beds with my sister at night. Running to the car we’d yell, “shotgun!” to see who was going to sit in the front seat. I remember sticking up for my siblings at school; I about pounded a kid for calling my sister fat and I wasn’t very nice to the bully taking my brothers lunch either. My sister would keep my secrets and my brother could always make me laugh. I am proud of my siblings and I am grateful to be their big sister.
I always knew that I wanted to have a basketball team amount of kids, if the Lord would allow. The preeclampsia that I experienced with Millie scared me of the birthing process but never out of wanting to expand our family. To allow my body time to recover, my OB asked for me to give myself two years before getting pregnant again but when Millie was 20 months old, we found out we were expecting. I was still breastfeeding Mill and continued until she was 22 months old, when I entered my second trimester of pregnancy. I was instructed to take a calcium supplement as my vegan diet didn’t allow much calcium to go around for myself, a breastfeeding toddler, and a growing fetus. That aside, we were excited that Millie was going to be a big sister come March!
The first person I told after seeing the positive pregnancy test was my little sister. We had been talking about how I felt fatigued and she encouraged me to take a test. She was at work when I called to tell her the news and she startled everyone in her office by screaming in excitement. From the very beginning of this pregnancy, things were different than my first. The pink result on the pee stick was much more prominent this time around. I was pleasantly surprised that this pregnancy didn’t come with the hyperemesis gravidarum that I experienced with Mill. Due to all the puking during my first pregnancy, I had to miss my sisters college graduation, hospitalized with dehydration. This time around, I was pregnant but also was able keep up with an energetic toddler. We had a gender reveal with our family where we cut into a cake that spilled out blue candy – no surprise that this pregnancy was different, we are having a baby boy.
Millie is a little mommy; she loves babies. At Zumbini, she would rather spend time putting her face in baby carriers of the siblings of her classmates than dance and play instruments. Millie will give her baby dolls stroller rides, she feeds them bottles, and she puts them to sleep by covering them up and kissing them on the head. Anything small is a baby to her. I love her caring nature. There was never a doubt in my mind – she would be an awesome big sister.
I do not think Millie understands that there will be a new baby in our house come March. She is aware that there is a baby in my stomach and that we are preparing our home for his arrival however, how can a two year old comprehend a new life? I still am in awe of the miracle that is a new baby. So here I am, enjoying my time as a one child mama for a little while longer. I will never forget Millies time as my only child however, she will. She’ll forever know herself, like me, as a big sister.
Mothering Millie 