The Journey To Sisterhood

Yesterday I read a post by Liz at Mom101 that made me think back to the early days of when Mira was a newborn and Cordy was a wild, intense, temperamental 2.75 year old. Those first weeks were a complete blur of emotion and sleeplessness for me as I tried to adjust to meeting the needs of a new little person and her big sister, who was needy in different ways.

The thing that broke my heart when Mira was little was Cordy’s complete lack of acknowledgment of her new sister. It was like Mira didn’t exist to her. Of course, this was also pre-evaluation when Cordy didn’t notice other kids most of the time either. I would sit on the couch, holding Mira and asking Cordy to come say hi to her new sister, only to have Cordy come say hi to me, not understanding this little wrapped up bundle in my arms was another human being.

Completely unaware of the other human being right next to her

It took months for Cordy to notice Mira, and all progress was tied directly to her progress in therapy in her preschool. As she ventured out of her internal world, the external world came into focus, and with that world her little sister, who desperately wanted the attention of this big kid in her space.

I remember when Cordy would run laps in the living room while Mira was in her exersaucer – as Cordy would come closer, Mira’s face would brighten with a smile and her arms would wave wildly to get Cordy’s attention. As Cordy ran past, Mira’s smile would fade to a slightly confused, slightly down expression, realizing she hadn’t been noticed. Repeat x 100.

I would cry at night, thinking this distance between my two girls would be permanent and Cordy’s emotional distance would prevent them from ever being close.

If we don’t make eye contact, she doesn’t exist.

Ever so slowly, though, Cordy recognized Mira. She would hear Mira cry and say, “Mira’s hungry!” Or hold Mira’s hands and move her arms back and forth like she was a toy. I then caught her hugging Mira once. Then instead of eating Mira’s snacks, she would feed one to Mira. For her part, Mira never gave up on Cordy, always initiating contact with the older girl who seemed unreachable at times.

But now. I can only say we’ve come a long, long way. Cordy still doesn’t always understand that Mira has feelings too, but she recognizes Mira as her little sister and as a fellow person. I’ll credit part of that to Cordy’s therapy, part of it to typical kid behaviors and maturation, and part of it to Mira’s insistence that Cordy WILL pay attention to her, dammit, even if she has to sit on her. They occasionally play together, and even if it is (usually) too rough, they both giggle until someone inevitably cries, and then they go back to wrestling and giggling again.

They are now sisters.



Not Everyone Has An Easy Start

I have to admit that both of my girls had a fairly easy time with birth. Cordy was a scheduled c-section during the 38th week because she was determined to never come out and had arranged herself in such a way to guarantee that. She was unaware that doctors could forcibly remove her by surgery. I still remember how pissed off she was at being dragged out into the cold air, and I’m not sure she’s ever completely forgiven us for that.

Mira was an extremely uncomplicated birth, other than the fact that she waited a full week past the due date to make her appearance.

I’m lucky that both of my girls were born healthy, requiring no assistance in breathing or feeding. Some aren’t so lucky, though, and have to fight much harder for their place in this world.

If you haven’t met Mama Spohr (Heather) yet, you should really take the time to go read her blog. She has a beautiful little girl named Maddie who had a very rough start to life. Maddie was born at 28 weeks after Heather had been on bedrest for 19 weeks because of pregnancy complications.

Heather had PPROM, which is an acronym for Preterm Premature Rupture of Membranes, which is medical-speak for premature baby coming now – NOT GOOD. Maddie was rushed to the NICU when she was born, where the medical team fought to keep her alive. At times her lungs would rupture with tiny holes, forcing air into her chest cavity. The slightest touch could overstimulate her and send her heart rate plummeting downward. (Note: I’ve seen this happen in the NICU – it’s amazing how strong yet delicate preemies are!)

More than once Heather was told her daughter would not survive. But thanks to a well-trained team, a state-of-the-art NICU, and of course Maddie’s strong-willed spirit, she’s here today.

One reason I agreed to be a March of Dimes Mom is that I stand firmly behind the research and advances they have helped make happen. There was a time when nothing could be done to save a baby when the mom suffered a PPROM, and preemies under 32 weeks had a small chance at survival. Now NICU doctors and nurses are saving babies born at 23 weeks gestation. As the technology improves, outcomes will improve also, and hopefully fewer babies will be born too soon.

Heather is participating in the March of Dimes March for Babies on April 25 in Los Angeles. She’s already done an amazing amount of fundraising, and at this very moment is only $140 away from her $2000 goal. To help get more donations, she’s giving away an all-in-one printer and Kodak digital camera – every dollar donated counts as one entry. Her contest ends tonight, but you can still donate beyond today, too.

I want to see her surpass her goal. This money goes directly to help fund research so children like Maddie get that help they need to survive. And even if you don’t have the money to spare, check out her blog and cheer her on, OK?



Memories of Dark, Sleepy Nights

As we approach Cordelia’s fourth birthday, my mind often drifts back to when she was a baby. I can’t say she was the easiest baby, because she wasn’t. But slowly a lot of those hard times are being erased from my memory due to the effects of time. However, many of those good memories are slipping away, too, and I’m trying to hold tight to the ones I do still remember.

This weekend there is a virtual baby shower being held for Kristen and Rebecca to celebrate the upcoming births of their third and second child, respectively. (Amalah is also getting a virtual shower, too, with details here.) The hostesses asked for all those participating to share some of the good memories we have from those hazy infant days, and while they may be getting fuzzy, I do have one strong memory in mind.

Cordy co-slept until four months, at which point I was back to work and all attempts at breastfeeding had been completely abandoned. She woke generally one or two times a night, which wasn’t bad for a four month old. Being a first time mom, each night I jumped up at the first grumbles heard on the monitor and prepared her bottle.

I’d go into her room, dimly lit by her Beatrix Potter nightlight, and lift her out of her crib. We’d settle in together in my glider, and I’d give her a bottle while rocking her gently. Half of the time, she fell into a half-asleep state immediately (me too), only awake enough to eat and then fall into a deep slumber as soon as the bottle was finished.

But the other half of the time, she was still awake at the end of the bottle, looking up at me with wide eyes in the darkness. And it was on these occasions that I lifted her up to my shoulder, with her head nuzzled in the crook of my neck, and rock her to sleep.

Cordy was never a cuddly baby. She tolerated being held, but most attempts to snuggle her were met with protests. The only time I got to really cuddle my baby girl was when she needed a little help falling asleep after the bottle. This was our time together – in the stillness of the night, just the two of us rocking together to the sounds of the nighttime CD playing and her noisy breathing with the occasional contented sigh.

Sure, I wanted to get back to bed. I was still working full-time at that point, and knew I was facing a long day when the sun came up. That special moment of me holding her against me as we rocked, however, was worth more to me than the extra sleep. Even when I knew she was fully asleep, I’d often stay an extra ten minutes or more, just to enjoy the moment.

I specifically remember telling myself, “You must remember this. Of all the memories of her growing up, you must remember this moment when she is this small, asleep on your shoulder.” And I did. I burned the memory into my mind, making sure that time and age would not take it from me.

If you want to join in on the virtual baby shower, visit the shower post for the details. (Hint: there are prizes, too!) Good luck to Kristen, Rebecca and Amy – I wish you all easy births and babies who don’t have explosive poop or colic.

A rare moment (and yes, that’s Cordy!)


One

Dear Mira,

Today marks one year on this planet for you. I’ve tried to write this a billion times and erased every start except for that one sentence. You’d think I could get nostalgic on command – I’m a writer, after all – but at this moment it’s difficult for some reason.

I think part of the problem is that I’m still a little numb to the realization that an entire year has passed. I remember your birth clearly, I remember those early days, then three months, four months, and suddenly you’re a toddler, staggering between pieces of furniture to maneuver your way around the room. How did that happen?

I remember that birth so clearly because it was not only your big day, but it was also my victory. Circumstances prevented me from having the birth I wanted with your older sister, and I was determined to not be separated from you like I was with her. Thankfully, I got to have the birth experience I wanted. I remember you gave a quick cry at the shock of emerging into the bright, cold world. But the moment you were placed on my belly, I remember how you immediately quieted. You peered up at my face, squinting in the bright light, and gave a big, contented sigh. Your father leaned in and said, “Welcome to the world, baby girl,” and your eyes widened and your head turned towards his voice, as if you already knew him. At only seconds old, you seemed to know your place in this world.


Your big sister wasn’t quite so convinced. You were ignored for the first 4-5 months by Cordelia. I’m not sure if this was her way of dealing with this intrusion into her time with mommy and daddy or if she really thought that if she simply didn’t acknowledge your presence you would disappear into the ether. Either way, you didn’t seem to mind at first. But slowly we noticed that it affected you. Cordy would run towards you, and I’d see your face light up with joy as your big sis came towards you. But then she would run right past you, and that joy would turn to confusion and then a gloomy look as you realized she wasn’t interested in you. Repeat 100x. It was heartbreaking.


But slowly Cordy took an interest in you and watched you as you held your head up, rolled over, sat up. And then that one day where she came to you and, without prompting, hugged you. I thought your little heart, and mine, would burst. From that point on, the love-hate relationship between you began. Sometimes you genuinely want to play with each other. Other times I am convinced you’re trying to kill each other. Your new hair-pulling trick is not endearing, although when Cordy trips you as you try to walk I can see why you might want a handful of her hair.


I have spent much of this first year comparing you to Cordy. You breastfed for eight months, while she gave up practically at the start. You both suffered through colic. You lagged behind her in weight (she was a big baby!), but kept up in height. She is blonde, you’re a brunette. You met physical development milestones faster than she did. She was the world’s happiest baby, while you are the baby who is Not Amused.


But at one year old, you’re so different from your sister – in both good and not-so-good ways – that I don’t think I can keep making those comparisons much anymore. You’re clearly a different person, with a different agenda, and each day you make it known that you are not your sister in any way. You are the yin to Cordy’s yang (or maybe the other way around, depending on the day).


You are the child who will always test my limits, too. You push me to the edge each day, checking to see just how far you can go before I break, and then turning on the charm and the snuggles with a mischievous smile. You delight in picking up carpet fuzz and holding it out for me to see – knowing you fully intend to put it in your mouth – and then crawl/stagger away as fast as possible (always giggling) when I move to take it from you. You really do have a glint in your eye when you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing. I can’t imagine what you have in store for me in the years to come.


While I never had to deal with it, I know it must be hard to be a second child. You’ve never had me all to yourself, other than those few short hours each week when Cordy is at preschool. Add in all of my nursing school responsibilities, and it’s amazing you haven’t been forgotten at some point. You handle the lack of attention well at times. However, lately we have taken up a new hobby: bird watching out the back window together in the morning, after taking Cordy to school. I never would have guessed that a backyard bird feeder could provide so much entertainment, but your fascination with our winged friends can’t be denied.


I wasn’t sure I could handle two children. I wanted a second, but worried that it would be too much. Even while pregnant, when there was no turning back, I still felt some hesitation when I tried to imagine us as the perfect two-child family. In the early days after your birth, I continued to feel overwhelmed. But slowly I adjusted to the new responsibility, and thankfully you and your sister rarely need me at the same time. It also helped that you started sleeping through the night far sooner than you sister. It’s amazing what a little sleep can do to help a mom feel on top of a situation.


Today? I can’t remember what it was like without you, and I never want to go back to that time. Even if your dad and I joke about selling you off to gypsies (or your sister – we’re equal opportunity) the truth is we adore you and our family isn’t complete without you. I never realized how much I needed you. And though I’m happy to see you reach this first milestone, I’m sad to leave behind these infant days. I want you to stay this age forever: sweet, snuggly, fascinated with everything in the world, and still needing me. But you must keep growing, learning, and finding your own way. I can still wish, though.


Now how about you work on learning a few words during your second year on this planet, OK? Because your current method of pointing, grunting and shrieking can’t keep working forever.


Happy birthday to my baby girl. You may be second born, but you’re certainly not second in my heart.

Love,
Mommy



More From The Curly Headed Child

As I am feeding Mira, Cordy comes from behind and bumps into me hard, clearly on purpose.

Cordy: Oh, I must have been sleepwalking!

********

Me: Cordy, come here and let me change your diaper.

Cordy: (doing nothing in particular) No! I can’t.

Me: You can’t? Why not?

Cordy: I’m busy right now, mommy! I’m busy!

Can’t imagine where she learned that one…ugh.

********

Cordy: (Climbing into my lap) Mommy, I need a big hug.

Me: (hugging her tight) OK, I can do that.

Cordy: I love you, mommy.

Me: I love you too, Cordy.

Cordy: (looking up at me) Best friends, mommy?

Me: Yep. Best friends.

Cordy: Awww…best friends.

And you can bet I’m going to remember that exchange for those days when she’s sixteen and screaming that she hates me because I won’t let her borrow the car.

********

Finally, we received a gift in the mail the other day from a certain Ms. Sugarpants. Now that Cordy will let us touch her hair, Karen thought some proper hair clips were in order.

She’s right, and Cordy loves her new “clippies!” a lot. We’ve already lost one in her room because she insisted on going to bed with it in her hair. (No worries, I can probably find it under her bed.) And she likes to wear the other two together at the same time.

(clippies made by Little Stars Bowtique)

Thank you so much, Karen!

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