My High Needs Baby

This is hard for me to write, because I feel like I am complaining about my child in some way. I feel like by pointing out how he is different, I am implying that different is wrong. That isn't my intention. Everything about Luke is right. His green eyes, the way his hair smells, the dimples in the top of his
hands, his crooked smile...it's all right. Luke's personality is just that. HIS personality. It is no more wrong than any part of my personality is wrong. It's just different, and it happens to be different from the majority. What am I talking about? Luke is a "high needs" baby. Not to be confused with "special needs" which seems to be the politically correct way to describe children with disabilities these days. Luke doesn't have disabilities. He has intense needs.

I am not one for labels. I didn't use to be, anyways. I don't like the concept of having to fit into a box. I dislike standards and rules and "shoulds". But about 2 months after Luke was born, I found myself searching for information..something that I could apply to Luke. Some way that I could label him. I sought the comfortability of being able to identify with others. I wanted to find out if there were other babies like mine. Because Luke isn't like any of my friends babies.

I came across Dr. Sears' website which had a list of qualities associated with a "high needs" baby. I had never heard the term. But as I read through the list, I cried. I called my husband over. We read the list together with our mouths open. Luke had every single trait of the 12 listed. (You can see the list here). We weren't alone. There were other children out there like our baby. It was enlightening and so exciting. If you don't have a high needs child, you probably don't know what that means. So let me explain. Here are the qualities associated with a high-needs child. All babies have some of these traits some of the time. Some babies may even have some of these traits all of the time. My baby has all of these traits, all of the time.

1.) Intense - everything with Luke is dramatic and over the top. He laughs louder, he plays harder, he thinks more intently, he persists longer. He is intense!

2.) Hyperactive - Luke doesn't sit still. Ever. He never has. I have never sat on the couch with Luke to cuddle. Not once. The only time we have sat still together is when he is asleep. And he only falls asleep nursing in bed or if he's being walked around for what feels like hours.

3.) Draining - Parenting Luke feels like I am in a pool of water with a cinder block tied to my ankle. I can keep my head above water just enough to breathe, but there is a constant weight pulling me down. It doesn't feel wrong or bothersome, because this has been life with Luke since the day he was born. But it's impossible to relax or get ahead. I am so thankful to have my husband. Without him, my house would be a disaster and I would be eating crackers for dinner every day.

4.) Feeds frequently- This is easy to explain. I have breastfed Luke every 2-3 hours all day and night for 10 straight months. Let that sink in. All. Day. And. Night.

5.) Demanding - Luke knows what he wants. He always has. When he is tired, he lets us know. When he is hungry, I better be ready to nurse. When he wants to play, he is very enthusiastic and obvious about it. And when he's bored, he will cry until you do something else. He is a smart, smart baby. And as long as we meet his demands, we are all happy.

6.) Unsatisfied - Luke isn't happy with the same thing all the time. One day, he may want to be worn in a sling for hours at a time. The next day, he will refuse the sling because he wants to be carried in my arms. One day he will want to nurse sitting up, and the day after that he will refuse the breast unless he's lying down. There is no getting complacent with my little man.

7.) Awakens frequently- I'm not even sure what "frequently" even means anymore. Luke nurses every 2-3 hours all night long. I unplugged the alarm clock and stopped checking my phone a long time ago. I tell myself in the middle of the night that it has been 6 hours since the last time I woke. But I'm lying. Luke never really gets into a deep sleep. As an infant he would startle himself awake constantly. Now, the sound of me scratching my leg will wake him. He is the opposite of a heavy sleeper. He is in our bed for this exact reason. Can you imagine getting out of bed and walking to his crib 7 times a night? Um, no. All I have to do is roll over and nurse.

8.) Unpredictable- Luke has mood swings. When he is happy, he is a joy to be around. His smile can light up a room. I have had numerous people come up to me in stores and mention how he has the most endearing smile or how his laugh is infectious. It's true. On the contrary, when Luke is mad or upset, look out. He will scream at the top of his lungs. He will throw himself on the floor. He will cry until he almost passes out. And his mood changes instantaneously.

9.) Super sensitive - Mike and I joke that Luke has his daddy's temper and my emotions. I am not sure that's the best possible combination...haha. My husband and I balance eachother out. But Luke is both of us put together. If you so much as cross your eyes at Luke, he will burst into tears. If you raise your voice or speak to him in a stern tone, his lip will quiver until he breaks down sobbing. He gets his feelings hurt VERY easily.

10.) Can't be put down - Ah yes...my child loves to be held. Loves it with a passion. He prefers to be carried than to sit by himself. At all times. Riding in a stroller? Forget it. Sitting in a cart? Nope. Swings, bouncy seats and cribs, be damned. My baby wants to be held.When he was a baby, he refused to sleep by himself. I was told to swaddle him, to put him in warm pajamas, to leave him in just a diaper, to rub his back, to sing to him, to rock him....None.Of.That.Worked. The ONLY way he would sleep was on my chest. And so we became bedsharers. We love it now. But we weren't planning on it!

11.) Not a self soother - What does this even mean? That a baby can fall asleep on his own? Not Luke. That a baby can stop crying on his own if he becomes upset? Not Luke. That a baby can entertain himself in a swing, in a pack 'n play, in a saucer, or in a bouncy seat? Not Luke. He will sit for 15 seconds and then start screaming. He wants to be held. See number 10 above.

12.) Separation sensitive - Luke hates to be away from me. Or maybe just from my boobs. Actually, I think he might think that I AM a walking boob. I left Luke one time, when he was 6 weeks old, to go to my best friend's wedding. We were gone for 5 hours. The longest I have been away from him other than that is 2 hours. In 10 months. And that has to be a perfectly timed 2 hours. It has to be right when he wakes up, and he has to nurse before I go. Otherwise he will melt down and scream, cry, vomit and almost pass out until I return. It is SO not worth it for me to leave him.

My child is a "handful" by many people's standards. He isn't a "normal" baby. He refuses to  ride in a carseat because it requires him to sit still. People tell me to just strap him in and turn up the radio. No thanks. Besides the fact that it is physically painful to listen to him cry, he will scream and thrash around until he vomits, and then he will keep crying, almost to the point of passing out. I don't need to go anywhere so bad that I will force my child to puke on himself. I carry him all day long. My back hurts. My arms hurt. I miss hanging out with my friends. Shit, I miss having adult interaction!

My marriage has been strained. Having my child attached to me all day and night isn't glamorous, sexy or inviting. Luke doesn't want to go to Mike very often, although sometimes he will. It breaks my heart to hand Luke to his daddy only to have him burst into tears and reach out for me. I hate to see him cry but I also hate to see the hurt in my husbands eyes. He knows this won't last forever...but it still sucks and I get that. We have had no time to ourselves since Luke was born. I remind myself that there will be a day when Luke is out on his own, and we find ourselves wishing he was at home, begging for our attention.  So we don't complain.

Having a high needs baby wasn't what we planned. It is stressful and draining for sure. But Luke is Luke. He is sure of himself. He is confident in what he wants. He is passionate. He loves deeply. He is enthusiastic. He is the love of my life. I never knew that I could love something as much as I love him. And I wouldn't want him to be any other way. I am so glad I get to be Luke's mama. He teaches me about life and about myself every day. Having a high needs baby isn't bad, it's just different.

Changes

Before I had Luke, I was the typical Type A personality. I made lists, and I crossed things off as they were accomplished. I was organized. I was on time (I was early, usually). My closet was organized by color. I woke up and met each new day with a desire to accomplish as much as possible. I made phone calls. I went places. I bought things. I wrote emails. I sent texts and cards. I danced around the living room to country music. I kept in touch with all of my friends. I cooked, I cleaned and I rearranged furniture. I was PRODUCTIVE!

After I had my sweet baby, all of that changed. My personality no longer fits into any neat box. I haven't made a list in ages. My house on any given day can range from mostly clean and neat to looking like a tornado blasted through it. I barely ever look in my closet, because all I need is a pair of sweatpants, a sports bra, and a tshirt on most days. I wake up whenever Luke decides it is time to wake up, which is now somewhere between 645 and 745. I get to the laundry when I get to it. My husband now does all the cooking. I text my friends to say hello when I get the chance or when I am nursing Luke to sleep and I have a few free minutes to use my phone.

I am not sure whether or not I would be on time to a function, because I don't have many functions to attend. Around the holidays, we did our best to show up within an hour of the time we planned on. I don't buy much other than groceries these days, which is due, in part, to the fact that neither Mike or I is working and so we are on a tight budget, and also to the fact that my child still refuses to ride in a carseat. (Not familiar with that bit of awesomeness? Here's a link to that story)

None of my furniture has moved since before Luke was born, which I know is very exciting for my husband. He hated that I was always moving things around. If  When I figure out how to move a couch with one arm while holding my baby in the other, the furniture will get rearranged. I wake up each day with desires, but they are just not the same as they used to be.

When my baby was born, my world changed. I am no longer only responsible for myself. I am responsible for this child, and his needs have come first since the day he was born. I am different. And on some days, I struggle with it. When things in my life seemed hectic or out of control before, I could stop what I was doing and go for a run. Or I could take a nap. Or sit on the deck and read a book with a glass of wine. And now, I can't do those things. Not easily anyways. Ok, I'm lying. I can't do any of those things. I haven't yet found a great sports bra to wear running with "nursing boobs." The only time I have to read is after Luke goes to bed and I manage to sneak away from him, and by that time, surely I can't sit on the deck because it is dark. And naps? Ha! I am lucky to fall asleep when L naps, but even then, he is nursing and if you have ever tried to take a nap while feeding a child, you know it just isn't that great of a nap. But now, my days aren't hectic or out of control. They are unstructured, but they are great. I'm raising a child.

Now my days consist of quickie showers, lots of babywearing, and singing and dancing to  "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes." I can build a mean tower out of wooden blocks, and my "choo choooooo" noise is totally realistic sounding. I have perfected the art of going to the bathroom as quickly as possible and shutting the toilet lid before Luke gets his fingers smashed. I can run down the basement steps, change the laundry, and get back up in under a minute. I know exactly the right temperature for running bath water, and I could cut up fruit and veggies into the perfect size for little fingers with my eyes closed.

My life is so much different now than it was before the world was blessed with my baby. My life now is SO much better. And I am more productive than I ever thought possible.

One Happy Mama

I am thankful to be home with my child every day. I know everyone doesn't have this opportunity, and I tell myself on a daily basis that I am fortunate. I remind myself to remain present when I am with my child. I work hard not to let myself drift into Facebook land or become text message obsessed. These are the days of my life, really. I won't get any of them back. And if I don't take the time to enjoy my child now, I am setting myself up for some bad habits in the future.

I always said I didn't want to be a stay-at-home mom. For as long as I can remember, I said that once I had children, I would of course return to work full time, and part-time at a minimum. But the minute I laid eyes on my child, I started to doubt whether or not I could return to work. I just wanted to be with him NONSTOP!

I remind myself where I was a year ago. I was working for a large company that somehow managed to employ the largest number of bitchy, racist, stupid, ignorant, unhappy assholes EVER. I'm not kidding. The majority of people that I worked for and with sucked at life. I was able to make a few close friends there that kept me sane, but the majority of my days were spent wondering how I was going to make it until closing time.

Whenever Luke is having a hard time, or when my head hurts from not getting enough sleep, I remind myself how very lucky I am. I am able to stay at home full time with my baby, and there is absolutely nothing I would rather do than spend every possible minute with him, teaching him, guiding him, and watching him learn about life. I am one happy mama.

I Want

Children may not always do what we say, but they will always, always do what we do. ~ unknown

I want Luke to be honest. I have to ALWAYS tell him the truth. Luke needs to see me always being honest with others. No "white lies," no "just this time's," none of that. Just honesty. No matter if the topic makes me uncomfortable or not, I need Luke to know that without a doubt, I am being honest with him. Then he can learn to be honest with others.

I want Luke to be caring. I need to send cards to my friends for no particular reason. I need to hold the door open for strangers and talk with my neighbors when I am in a rush.I must listen to people. Really listen. Then Luke will understand what it means to be caring.

I want Luke to be gentle. Physically and emotionally. I need to be gentle not only with Luke, but with myself. I need to be gentle in my approach when I talk with him about a poor choice that he made. I need to respond gently to him when he says or does something that may push my motherly buttons. Because in me being gentle with Luke, he will learn to be gentle with others.

I want Luke to love animals. I believe that animals have every right to be on this earth, and so I must treat them lovingly at all times. By not eating beef, stepping on ants, squishing spiders on the wall or going fishing, I will teach Luke that animals are worthy and deserving of our love.

I want Luke to have a sense of humor. I need to laugh. A lot. I must take the time to listen to silly jokes and watch funny videos. I need to laugh often and deeply at life. By showing Luke how to laugh and be joyful, he will develop a sense of humor.

I want Luke to have positive self esteem. I need to hold myself in high regard. I need to tell myself that I am worthy and wonderful just the way I am. Loud enough for Luke to hear me. I need to appreciate my body, whatever it may look like on any given day. Because when Luke hears the message "I am beautiful and I am enough," he will learn to apply it to himself.

I want Luke to appreciate nature. I must make sure that I am spending as much time outdoors with him as possible. I must literally take time to "smell the roses" as often as I can. I need to take walks and have picnics. I need to be aware of flowers and clouds and trees and the seasons. By spending time outdoors experiencing all that nature has to offer, Luke will develop an appreciation for nature.

I want Luke to be loving. I must show him how to love, by expressing love to his daddy and to him and to people that I care about. Unconditionally, by listening to people and looking them in the eye and saying heartfelt, kind things to them. Luke will learn to be loving by seeing me express love.

I want a lot of things for my child, just as many other mothers do. I am hopeful that he will grow up to possess all of the qualities that I listed, and more. What I want the most for Luke, though, is to be who he was made to be. I want him to embrace himself and all that he has to offer. By supporting him and building his self esteem, I can help him to do just that.

Our Breastfeeding Journey

The goal was three months. I would breastfeed Luke for three months, and hopefully in those three months, pump enough milk to bottle feed him with breast milk for the next three months. Then he would wean from breastmilk (I guess I told myself that overnight one night he would just decide that he was done), and we would be on solids. Simple as that. That was the plan.

Before I had my son, I was faced with deciding whether or not I would breastfeed. There was a time in my life that I can vividly remember saying "hell no, I won't breastfeed. That's disgusting." Ahhh.....it makes me angry at my former self to think that I ever felt that way. But I also feel relieved that I was able to come to my senses. And so I decided, as I said above, that I would breastfeed Luke for a few months.

Luke was born on a Monday evening. He latched right away and we were off on our breastfeeding journey. My milk didn't come in until Friday. Wow, did that suck. Flu-like symptoms and a massive rush of hormones left me crying uncontrollably in bed on that otherwise beautiful May day for four straight hours. My husband looked at me like I had grown horns and polka dots. I kept on feeding Luke though, because that was the plan. Looking back on it now, I think he had a shallow latch. Because every time I fed him, for the first two weeks of his life, it was toe-curling pain. Literally toe-curling, teeth-gritting pain. It lasted for about 15 seconds and then subsided. Every. Damn. Time. I didn't know any different. I thought that was normal. After the first two weeks (and some lovely scabs), it got better.

Luke ate like a champ, although he didn't eat the way the books said he would. He never really wanted to nurse for 15 minutes on one side and then switch to the other side like he was "supposed to." Nope. He wanted to eat for 5-10 minutes on one side and then he was done. I think he was bored of laying in one spot. But we slowly got the hang of it. It wasn't what I had expected, but it was working for us. Luke wanted to nurse every 2 hours all day and night. There were some nights that he slept for 4-5 hours at a time, but they were rare. Most of the time, Luke was eating every 2 hours. (And, at 8 months, he still is...) But, he would only eat for 5-10 minutes and then he was done. So it wasn't awful. I had planned to feed him on demand, and that's what I did.

So days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into a month. The pain had subsided, although the leaking hadn't. (That was a bullshit sweet part of breastfeeding that nobody had really talked about.) The leaking. I remember it fondly. Cotton reusable nursing pads? Might as well have used them to wipe my ass. Because they did NOTHING to keep my girls from leaking. I ordered some bamboo reusables that worked much better. But even though I wasn't leaking through my shirt as much, I still had to wear these pads. Constantly. In my bra. Yuck.

One month turned into two. And two months turned into three. And there I was, on August 14th, three months after Luke was born, asking myself what in the fuck heck I was thinking when I decided that I would breastfeed for three months and then bottle feed with pumped milk for the next three. Because, you see, I had barely spent any time pumping at all. Why would I? I had since learned about the supply and demand of breastfeeding. The more baby eats, the more your breasts will produce. Well in the beginning, the last thing I needed was to be making more milk. I was feeling dairy-cow-ish enough as it was with the every two hour feedings. So I didn't bother to pump. Occasionally I did, but surely not enough to have a stash for three full months of feedings. And the few times that I did pump, and Luke was given a bottle, were awful. He chewed the nipple of the bottle. He spit it out. He drooled milk all over himself. He cried. He squirmed. He swatted at the bottle. It was a circus. We felt like why even bother?! And after he got a bottle, the next time I breastfed him was a joke. It took one or two feedings to get him back into the swing of things. Totally not worth it.

And I didn't care. Because I actually enjoyed breastfeeding Luke. It had become so much more than a way to fill up his little belly. There is an emotional aspect to breastfeeding that isn't as publicized as the nourishment part. Also, Oxytocin is released and the uterus contracts when you feed your child from the breast. (Yes, I loved being back in my old clothes 6 weeks after giving birth). It made me happy that when he was fussy, I could comfort him by myself. And it was SO convenient. I could feed him anywhere, at any time, with food that was the perfect temperature and the perfect amount. In the dressing room at Target? Check. In the car on the way to Grandma and Grandpas? Check. In the front yard while we were enjoying the nice weather? Check. In the middle of downtown Chicago? Check. Breastfeeding Luke was easy. And we both enjoyed it.

My new goal became six months. I would breastfeed Luke until he was six months old, and then he would eat solids. Two plugged ducts later, November 14th arrived. Six months of exclusive breastfeeding. Not a drop of formula. Never a pacifier. Maybe 6 bottles total. So there we were...November 14th. And guess what? I was still clueless. Was Luke ready to eat solids only? Absofuckinglutely not! He gagged on oatmeal. He gagged on bananas. He gagged on sweet potatoes. And he still loved to nurse. We were nowhere near ready to wean. And I didn't care. Because I still enjoyed breastfeeding him. It was easy for us. When he was hungry, I fed him. Simple as that. The leaking was over with. The pain was gone. It was just easy and simple and the best thing I could be doing for him.

I decided I needed to make a new goal. Because three months had passed, and six months had passed. And so I did. I have a new goal for breastfeeding. And I am proud to say that my new goal is to let Luke wean when he is ready. Yep. When HE is ready. Breastmilk has every beneficial nutrient that my baby needs right now. And it changes to accomodate his needs. At least until he is one, his primary source of nutrition will be breastmilk. And we couldn't be happier. He has started eating some solids, but we are letting him guide the way with that, too. When we sit down to eat, we put some of what we are eating on his plate and let him explore it. Gradually, he has started eating more and more. Sweet potatoes are his favorite. And he is so damn cute when he picks the chunks up and puts them into his mouth. No purees, no shoving containers of food down his throat. No force feeding him strained peas and prunes and other nasty commercial baby foods. Luke is getting breastmilk whenever he wants it and so all other food before age one is just for fun.

I am proud of myself and my body. Breastfeeding has definitely not always been easy. But knowing that I am providing my child with the best start in life makes it totally worth it. Knowing that I am not feeding him some man-made chemical shit formula makes me happy. I know that Luke is healthier because he is getting breastmilk. What could be more perfect for a baby than the milk of his own mother? Nothing! So we will continue on our breastfeeding journey. It is much different than I thought it would be. And it is so much better.

Babies Deserve Better

I realized something today. Something that has been working itself up to the surface of my consciousness for some time now. Something that I really and truly with every fiber of my being, believe in. I just haven't been able to truly come to terms with it until today. I wasn't ready for it then. But I am now.

I believe there are right and wrong ways to parent a child. And that can be as simple or as complex as you make it. It may not be "politically correct" to say, but it's my truth. It's what I believe.

I have long said that I believe in one mountain and countless ways to the top. And part of me really believes that. The part of me that thinks that statement is great is the part of me that is focused on an individual who is caring for him or her self. Musical preferences, choices in clothing, cars or homes,
religious ideals and educational paths...there is a whole wide world of options, and I believe each individual has the free will to choose whatever they want to do, be or say in every situation. Truly, I do.

The part of me that thinks there is one mountain with one clear, "right" path to the top is the part of me that is thinking about the kids. The babies. The ones who are helpless without their caregivers. The ones who know nothing until someone teaches them, either directly or indirectly. The small people on this earth who didn't ask to be here, but who have been thrust into the world unable to care for themselves. The young individuals who cannot distinguish between their wants and their needs because they are one in the same. The little people on this planet that need to be parented the right way in order to thrive. This part of me, the one that thinks about the babies, really believes that there is right and wrong. And I am appalled at how many children are being done wrong at the hands of the very people in life who are supposed to be caring for them the most.

Let's face it. This world today is FULL of turmoil, lies, greed, wars, hatred and sadness. We can turn a blind eye to it. We can, and do, act like it doesn't exist. But that doesn't mean it isn't there. It just means we don't care enough about it to pay attention. But while we turn a blind eye to the shortcomings of our world, are we spending more time with our children? Are we doing what is in their best interests at every chance we get? Are we using our instincts to parent them properly? Are we building up their self esteem so that they aren't cut down by the evil in our world? Are we learning about what they are developmentally capable of at every age and stage? Not always. Not enough. We are too busy running around from store to store to buy the most fashionable clothes. We are too preoccupied with our smartphones and laptops and tablets. We are caught up in the rat race of working too many hours to earn just enough money to buy things that make us look happy. To pay for homes that are empty for 50 hours a week while we go to work. As a society, we are on the go constantly. And who really suffers the most? The babies.

I firmly believe that there is a right way to be a parent. I am lying to myself if I continue to say that whatever way works for every individual is the right way. Because I no longer believe that. I have read enough and seen enough and listened enough and dug deep enough to know that there are wrong ways to parent a child. And I know that too many people spend too little time reading and listening and researching and learning. Too many moms just blindly listen to what their pediatrician or some random book has to say, without learning for themselves. In a world with endless amounts of choices, too many mothers are choosing the easy way or the cheap way or the popular way and in doing so, are selling their babies short.

Babies deserve better.

A Promise To My Children...

 

I came across a saying, titled "A Promise to my Children" on the internet. As I read it, I couldn't help but feel like the author fell short. The intentions were good, I suppose, but the message is not something that I would feel comfortable conveying to MY child or children. I decided to take the popular "promise" and alter it a bit. Here it is, in its original state:

 

And this is what I disagree with in this saying:

 

1.) Why can't you be a parent AND a friend? Why do those titles need to be prioritized? Parenting is not mutually exclusive of friendship, in my mind.

2.) There are MANY ways to show a child that you love and care for them. Stalking him, flipping out on him, lecturing him, driving him insane and hunting him down like a bloodhound aren't exactly any of the verbs that come to my mind when I think about how to convey my love to my child.

3.) I can think of a whole bunch of ways that my child can convince me he has become a responsible adult. Understanding that I will be his worst nightmare isn't one of those ways.

4.) I will consider myself a failure if, at ANY time, my child mutters under his breath or out loud that he "hates" me. I cannot think of a worse way to evaluate my parenting skills than on the basis of my child stating that he hates me.

 

Do I think that children need to respect their parents? Absolutely. Do I want my child to become a responsible adult? You betcha. Is there anyone else on this earth who will love and care for my child as much as I do? Besides his daddy, probably not. So here is my "better" version of this saying. It is one that I will do my best to live by. And it is something that I will feel comfortable and proud to share with my child.

 

 For as long as I live, I will always be your parent as well as your friend.

I will respect you, listen to you, encourage you, have fun with you,

be your biggest supporter and be available to your needs whenever I have to,

because I love you.  I know that through my modeling of love,

empathy and mutual trust, you will become a caring, empathetic, secure adult.

You will never find anyone else in your life who loves you, cares about you,

and worries about your well being as much as your daddy and I do.

As long as I am able to tell you and show you how much 

I love you every day, I will know that I am doing my job

as your mama properly.