Mommy Knows Best

This past November we had a scary moment for our family. Freya was in the hospital for a few days after taking a major asthma attack. As a mother of an asthmatic child already, I had been down this road before. It doesn't make it any easier. It doesn't matter if your child is taking her first asthma attack or her 25th. I hate every second of it. I'm a severe asthmatic myself so I know what its like to feel like your drowning with no water. Your lungs tighten until you can't speak anymore and your panicking.
We started out going to a walk in clinic. It was Monday which is dance class night with our oldest daughter, Morrigan (11). We were all in the car waiting in the parking lot which was unusual. My husband normal takes our oldest to dance because little miss Freya can't sit still and be calm during dance class. So, to not disturb the two classes going on, its best to keep Freya home and that usually means I stay home. Freya was bouncing around the car but she was getting winded and needing to take breaks which is unusual for the human energizer bunny. When I started to buckle her back in I noticed her breathing was really labored. This sets off those mommy alarms that have yet to fail me. My husband, who usually is a wait and see kind of guy knew if there was one thing I was certain about, it was breathing problems. He went inside and pulled my oldest out of dance class early and we went straight in to the walk in clinic.
Morrigan had a bit of a cough too so while we were there, we got both kids checked out. Morrigan was deemed fine and Freya was looked over, given an x-ray because she was wheezing, given a breathing treatment and sent home. Her X-ray was clear of pneumonia and once she took the nebulizer treatment, her wheeze had stopped. It was a cold night so they couldn't seem to get a read on her oxygen level saying her fingers must be too cold but they said she was fine. We thought that was it, we would be fine. But as soon as we got home and I was playing with her on the floor, her breathing seemed worse.
Growing up an asthmatic, I knew those behaviors that indicate an asthma attack. My mom was the type to point it out and when my brother got asthma, she made sure I could identify those behaviors in him since he was young and often ignored an asthma attack until it was severe. Its such a typical kid thing, they rather play than to get an inhaler. It was the tick cough for Morrigan that first alerted me something was wrong. For Freya, it was her stomach pulling in sharply as she breathed. Small children that are struggling to breath look different than an older child. With older children their chest will seem like its sinking in. With younger children, like toddlers, their stomachs will rise and fall rapidly.
I knew breathing treatments were not going to be enough, she needed steroids. I knew it in my heart, or maybe my gut, which ever part of the body that tells a mom that despite what the professional says, YOU KNOW BETTER. My husband and I were in a disagreement. He didn't think we gave the breathing treatment enough time. By normal standards we didn't. But I have been in countless situations as a asthmatic that if I waited those 4 hours I'd be dead. So, I called the one person I knew would make me feel like I wasn't over reacting, my mom. She is the only other person I know that has been through this as a mom. She had doctors telling her my brother was the worst child case they had ever seen. My mom had been there the several times I was close to death, passing out in the ER waiting room from lack of oxygen. If you could be deemed an expert on experience alone, she would be. She asked me if her lips were really red. I wouldn't think red, I'd think blue from lack of oxygen. Apparently, really red is a sign of an asthma attack too. Freya's lips looked like she had lipstick on it was so red. That was it, I was sold. To the ER we went.
At the ER, again they couldn't get a read on her. It was coming up 90% oxygen level but the nurse said she seemed fine. I was so scared they would put us off and not take me serious. I knew she was worse than she seemed. Then another nurse walked by and looked at her. She noticed her heart rate showed she was really working hard to breath. That's when we were rushed right in. A doctor, an RN, an a CNA met us at the door. They rushed her right in and started on breathing treatments, oxygen, and steroids. The doctor was very understanding and didn't deny it was probably asthma but it was only her second time with breathing problems and the last time was over a year ago. He did say, with the family history, it was most likely asthma. After we discussed the family history and how severe those cases are, he stopped referring to it as acute aspiration. He said that when she is discharged, it will say acute aspiration since this was really the first hospitalization. But I needed to talk to her pediatrician about our options as an asthmatic.
I have to say, ER doctors usually follow the book pretty much to the letter. They rarely make assumptions about long term health and even more rare is the doctor that will confess the book is not always right. I had to fight in the beginning with ER doctors with my oldest. Luckily, my pediatrician at the time was my old pediatrician and knew our family well. She knew my kids would more than likely be asthmatics, its genetic. After the first major hospitalization for Morrigan, we got a nebulizer and meds with a rescue inhaler for when we were out from our old pediatrician. We just changed pediatricians that day as my pediatrician was retiring. I had no idea how this new pediatrician would feel about me insisting Freya was an asthmatic after only two events. We had yet to meet this pediatrician, so I was nervous.
Meanwhile, the hospital moved us to the children's ward. Freya and I stayed there over night. They woke her up every two hours for a breathing treatment. At first, Freya fought it tooth and nail. She screamed, swatted, and twisted her little body to avoid the mask. The woman from respiratory had the patience of a saint to deal with Freya every two hours, all night long. But once her daddy and her sister came to see her, she was thrilled. She was excited and energized even with the little amount of sleep she got. But it was a Tuesday and Morrigan had school. So when Morrigan left, all hell broke loose.
Freya loves her sister, more than anyone in this world. When her sister left for school, she screamed, "My Morrigan! My Morrigan! Bring back my Morrigan!" The nurses came in with coloring pages and crayons, toys from the play room, pudding from the kitchen. Nothing calmed Freya down. She's not the kid that is easily distracted. This kid has a one track mind and she doesn't like to be left out of something. Being stuck in a hospital room was like being in prison for her. She did not like being confined. That was when she started venturing out of her room and running down the hall. We eventually found our way to the play room. As much as she had fun in the play room, there was barely any toys. Plenty of big toys but there were car tracks with no cars and doll houses with no dolls. Freya is lucky, she had a big sister to pack her some toys from home. She was able to play with the toys in the toy room because she had the smaller toys from home. So, if you're getting rid of those Fisher Price Little People, some old Matchbox cars, some baby dolls, kitchen food, etc, check with your local hospital's children's ward to see if they need some toys. I'm sure they end up losing those little toys to the sick kids staying there and can always use more. Our hospital had video game systems for the older kids. They had a PS 3 and a few Nintendo Game Cubes. There were baby toys and crib toys for the tiniest of patients.
My parents came to visit later that evening. Freya was doing well and running from the room straight to the toy room pulling one of her grandparents along with her with a very insistent, "Come here, Papa! Come here." She pulled my mom in first to play then my dad. She was excited to show them all the new toys she got to play with while she was visiting the hospital. One thing can be said about Freya that day, she sure knew how to make the best of it. My parents brought me much needed supplies for myself and bought Freya a little stuffed Rudolph. In the ER, they gave Freya a Christmas beanie baby bear that was white with holy printed all over him. She hugged that bear so tightly through it all. Now her bear had a little friend and they stayed together on her bed and she held those stuffed toys all night.
Freya made such progress, our two night stay turned into a one night stay. They told us, if she continued to have a good oxygen level once they lowered the frequency of her breathing treatments from every 2 hours to every 3 hours then to every 4 hours, then she could go home at 7 p.m. To be honest, I was doubtful. She went from having the alarms going off all night because she would dip bellow 87% oxygen. She couldn't sleep without oxygen and then they were all fine sending her home just 12 hours later. I didn't think her oxygen levels would stay up that long off oxygen. After the whole, "poor reading" thing at the walk in clinic and the ER check in, I wasn't sure I felt comfortable believing the doctors.
When my parents left they made the mistake that they were going to watch Morrigan so my husband can run some errands. Again, Freya screamed for her Morrigan and actually ran out after my parents. A doctor was coming in so the locked door was open. If I didn't grab her, she would have made it out. Now I was out of breath. Luckily, she wasn't! I started my own little tests, saying the ABCs and counting how many breaths she takes during it. All the pauses matched up to the song. Then I had her run from the door to the bed and back again then tested her oxygen level. It stayed about 97%! I was feeling more and more comfortable with the idea we might be heading home soon.
The last dose of steroids was a disaster but luckily the doctor felt comfortable with her going home without that last dose. My husband brought in some McDonald's since Freya loves her "burgas". It wasn't long after we ate that the doctor came in and gave the okay for Freya to be discharged. What a relief! But its not like I slept that night. No, of course I sat up all night watching her breath. There were no more monitors watching her oxygen level, no nurses checking on her, no oxygen blowing on her all night. It was all her and I felt like I had to take the place of those monitors.
The great news, she did fine after that. She continued to cough but not wheeze. The cold that triggered the asthma was still there but she was no longer struggling to breath. A few days later we had our follow up appointment with the new pediatrician. To my relief she too felt with the family history, she had no problem labeling what happened to Freya as an asthma attack and if this continue to be a problem she would put her on a controller medication if I felt it was necessary. We both agreed it was too early for a controller medication but it was great knowing the doctor wouldn't have a problem with it, if and when we get there.
Although this was a scary moment for us, it went pretty easy. Moral of the story, don't ignore those feeling that you, the parent, know better. My old pediatrician always used to ask, "What do you think, Mom?" because she was a strong believer that parents just know their children. Parents know when their kids are acting different. They know when something just isn't right. Even if the parent was wrong, at least she would tell you why and ease your fears. That's what I've always loved about my pediatrician and why I am so sad to see her retire. As parents, we really need to feel confident with our instincts. They rarely let us down. I often question myself in fear of overreacting. But its better to overreact than under-react. Sometimes, no, most of the time, Mommy knows best!

Freya is 2!

Where did the time go?
Can't believe this little munchkin is 2 today. My little fiery Freya who loves Frozen, to sing and dance, and can convince anyone to join in on the fun. The world, or at least the toy aisle at Walmart, is her stage. She will sing a Frozen song any chance she can get. She surprises me every day with all the things she does. Today might be her second birthday but she acts like she is 10. She has shown her strong personality since she was 3 months old. This girl walks to the beat of her own drum. As much as she looks up to her sister, she does her own thing. She is my little toughy that can pick herself back up when she falls down, she doesn't take crap from anyone (unfortunately me included), and always willing to try something new. To my tiny little Norse warrior Freya, Happy Birthday!!!♡♡♡

The Second Child

I recently read a blog that gave 5 reasons why your second child has it easier. I read it and couldn't disagree more. I realized that my two children, even though my parenting is very much the same, are growing up completely different. Just having the other sibling has an effect on the other one's life so greatly that it makes everything different.

Here are my reasons why my second child has it harder than my first.

Less Mommy time.
This is the biggest give in. The truth is, no matter how much you try to manage your time there will be less mommy time for both children once there is another child in the mix. This is natural, you are only one person after all. But my first child had 100% of my attention which means she never had to cry for anything. I got to her needs before she even knew she needed something. Diaper changes where usually in the middle of her actually doing her business which means I was changing a diaper after I already changed a diaper. I feed her at the first sign of hunger. I watched her sleep in her crib and she spent many hours of her first year sleep on my chest on the couch. Nothing would interrupt me cuddling with my first daughter. Now, I'm lucky I can get through nursing without having to get up for something. There is no quiet day dreaming while a baby cuddles up to me. Its a lot of cleaning up toys, spills in the kitchen from my oldest trying to pour her own drinks, and a rush of the morning routine.

Routine rules now
The daily routine that revolves around my oldest makes my youngest the second priority. There were no routines when my youngest was a baby. She always woke up naturally. I made doctor appointments around her usually nap times and feeding schedules. Life revolved around my oldest daughter's routine. Life still revolves around my oldest's routines and my youngest has to follow this schedule. I have to wake up the baby in order to get my oldest to the bus stop on time. Sometimes I'm also waking her from her nap to get her sister from the bus in the afternoon. I put off nap time for dance class on Saturdays. Doctor appointments are made whenever I can make it work between school bus pick up, drop off, driving distance now that we live in a town with the better school district when we used to live right by the doctor's office. Life is just busy with another child.

Less room.
With more children, you accumulate more stuff. I have my living room jam packed with baby stuff. There is a swing, an exersaucer, a bouncy seat, changing pad, a package of wipes, a small stack of diapers, blankets on every piece of furniture, and a pack'n play in the corner I can unfold if I need it. I had all these things for my oldest, in fact, most of them are my oldest child's. But when it comes to toys my oldest doesn't want to part with many of her stuff animals and even a few baby toys because she is very attached to them. Her glow worm for instance, was one of her lovelies growing up. She wants to save it for her children and doesn't want her sister chewing it anymore than it already is. I get that, I'm the oldest in my family as well. Though I parted with things, there are some things that are just "sacred". But this means more stuff of my oldest daughter's in my second bedroom, the one that eventually both girls will share, an little room for my youngest daughter to have. My youngest is spread out between three rooms. She has one toy box in the second bedroom, one toy bin in the living room, and a few toys in a basket in my room along with her crib, and a few other items. Her clothes are in a dresser in the second bedroom but her sheets and blankets are in my bedroom and her bibs are in the kitchen. My youngest daughter really has no place of her own.

Hand me downs
Even with the large gap between my two children, the majority of my youngest daughter's things are hand-me-downs. Everything from clothes, to nursery items, to toys are passed down from big sis. Few things have been bought for my youngest which brings me to my last point.

Lack of quality
Hand-me-downs are only a part of my youngest daughter's wardrobe. The rest is bought at stores like Walmart and Target at the lowest price. My oldest daughter got beautiful clothes. I went through this phase of buying nothing but classic Winnie the Pooh items, then it was Disney Princesses. Everything was pink and pretty. With my youngest, its whatever was the least expensive. Her baby bathtub is ugly and doesn't have the sprayer attachment like her sister's had. Her infant car seat doesn't match the stroller (which also matches the swing and highchair. Yup, its all from big sis). Her bowls and bibs are cheap solid colored nothing special when big sis got everything Princess from the Disney store. Children are expensive and with each one added to the list, the less money you have.

It can be tough being the second child, though it can be true for the oldest as well. It can tough being the pet when a new baby comes along. I think the phrase "the grass is always greener." applies here. I would love to revist this topic when both kids are older. Time might just change how things are done around here.

To My Daughters

To My Daughters

To my first daughter,

You taught me how to love unconditionally.

You taught me how to slow down and enjoy the simple things.

You taught me how to see the world through the eyes of a child again.

I’m sorry I wasn't confident as a mom.

I’m sorry I questioned things too often.

I’m sorry I pushed you to learn the next thing.

To my second daughter,

You taught me I can do great things if I try.

You taught me to be confident in my decisions.

You taught me my heart is as big as I let it be.

I’m sorry I can be impatient.

I’m sorry I have to rush you around.

I’m sorry I can’t give you all of my attention.

To both my daughters,

Thank you both for every smile, hug, kiss, laugh, and cuddle.

Thank you both for forgiving me when I’m being short with you.

Thank you both for reminding me what life is all about

I promise to always find time for you

I promise to always respect you as a person

I promise to love you both with all my heart

Feeling the mommy guilt this morning I felt like I wanted my girls to know how I feel. As much as I a parenting them the same, I'm raising them completely different due to the fact they are effected by the other, schedules, and my growth and how I change as a mom. Things are different, when Morrigan was a baby I had all the time in the world to give her. I never had an obligation other than keeping house. For Freya, I have my schedule, Morrigan's schedule, Chris's schedule to work around as well as Freya's schedule. Its not as easy going as it was when Morrigan was a baby and it makes me feel guilty. But when Morrigan was first born I was afraid to do what I wanted to do. I wanted to breastfed but didn't know how. There wasn't a internet community like there is now. Also, there are far more services out there for breastfeeding support. I'm so much more of a confident mom now, 8 years later, I know I can figure things out for myself. I have learned so much from each of my girls. I am so thankful for what they both have given to me, all they have contributed to my life.