It's not you, it's me...

Have you ever heard the old adage that if you have had 1 really difficult roommate, then it's probably their problem; if you've had 2 or 3 difficult roommates, then it might be your problem; but if you've had more than 3 difficult roommates, then it's definitely your problem?

Well, people's comments about my last post have made me pause for a moment of self-reflection, and I think, ya know, it might not be everyone else? Perhaps I need to take a step back from the Chicago driver that I am, and enjoy a little more southern hospitality. Maybe.

I'm willing to concede that it might not be such a great idea to be uber-agressive, especially because I want to also be a safe driver. Not to mention that I don't want my insurance to go up, for any reason.

However, to answer your question, I have only gotten 3 tickets in my entire life (that I remember, anyway), and only 2 of those were for speeding. But I must admit, I got one of the tickets because I rear-ended someone while getting off the tollway (Eastbound I-90, getting off on the Rt. 53 exit towards Woodfield Mall, for those who happen to know Chicago roads), more than likely because I was going too fast, so I'm willing to concede that speeding was definitely a contributing factor.

And it's not really that I drive that fast, really, but I do drive with quite a bit of impatience. But growing up in Chicago, that's how you do. After all, you know you're from Chicago if . . .

• You measure distance in minutes
• You know that the minimum acceptable speed limit on the tollway is 75 mph. Anything less is considered downright sissy.
• You know that Chicago has it's own version of traffic rules called, "Hold on and Pray"
• You know that the far left lane is the PASSING lane, and you know how to use it (meaning, you don't just hang out there!!!!)

So, all I'm saying is that I'm a product of my culture. However, I am also willing to admit that my way is not the only way, and maybe I need to just relax; be a little more zen about the whole thing. It would be nice, after all, not to yell at other drivers for being slow, or pound the steering wheel in frustration, or arrive somewhere in a bad mood because everyone around me is acting like such a moron. And who knows, maybe I might even start to enjoy how people drive here.

Ok, probably not, but I'll let you know how it goes. :o)

Driving Pet Peeves

Well, it's that time of year again; the pools have closed, the nights are a little cooler, and a few leaves have even started to change color. Yes, school has started back up, and you all know what that means: stupid drivers!!!!

As I am necessarily driving more--back and forth to carpool, to the gym, etc.--I am reminded once again that people don't drive the way that they should. That is, they don't drive like me. :o)

Instead of just screaming while I grind my teeth in frustration and wringing my hands on the steering wheel in an attempt to not plow into the person in front of me out of frustration, I thought I would do a quick vent, and put down just my top 3 driving pet peeves.

1. Drivers who don't go the speed limit. Come on!!! If it says 45, that's because you can safely go 45!! They checked and everything! And if you're going 5 under, DON'T obstinantely stay in the left lane (which is called the "passing lane" for a reason!), because "everyone should learn from your example."
--Corollory to Pet Peeve #1 are those drivers who go the exact same speed as the car next to them on a two lane highway, thus making it impossible for anyone to get around them. Arrrrggghhhh!!!!!!

2. Drivers who don't go right when the light or arrow turns green. I know, we've all been there, you're waiting at the light, not paying attention, when, whoops. . . but if you're the first person, you have to pay attention!!! If you don't, and then you get through, but hardly anyone else does, well, that's just selfishness. You have an obligation to make sure that as many cars get through the light as possible. Particularly the light on Louisburg, turning left onto Fox Rd. Which is, funnily enough, where Fox Road Elementary School happens to be.

3. Drivers who don't pull up all the way to the line at a red light. This is something that I still have never understood in my 7 years of living in North Carolina. And it's something that I have only seen in North Carolina.
Why do they leave room for an entire other car in front of them? Is there a ghost car? Are they leaving room for another car that might want to come to the light at the last minute? Is this a gross miscarriage of the famous southern hospitality that North Carolina is famous for? What possible purpose does it have? Other than giving me an aneurysm, of course.
I have noticed that 9 times out of ten (but not every time) it is an older driver that does this inexplicable thing, so I think that it must have been a misprint in the Student Driver Education manual that got handed around until they finally got the state funds to reprint the books several years later. Just a theory.

Well, I feel better, having gotten that off my chest, and I hope you do to. And any of you with information (especially about that NC oddity I mentioned) feel free to comment away. :o)

mommy moments

My friend Gail does this monthly post where she writes down all the cute, funny, and brilliant (her kids are geniuses, literally) things that her kids' say. Well, my kids aren't geniuses--although they are very smart--but they do say some funny things that I would like to keep track of. So, with thanks to Gail for her great idea, here are some of my recent "mom moments":

"That man is not being good! Meg chose Hercules, so he needs to find himself another girl!"

~ Taran, while watching the Disney movie, Hercules, after Hades threatens Meg when she doesn't want help him to find Hercules' weak spot

"Taran!! Mom cut my brain!!"
~ Kelcey, after I trimmed her bangs one afternoon

"I don't want to be Sleeping Beauty. They always kiss, and that's gross."

~ Taran, telling Jarom which princess she wants to be for Halloween

I'll post more when they occur (I hope!) but I thought that these couple were pretty cute, no?

I'm ok, you're ok

I thought I should post an update to let ya'll know how things are going with me, my medication, and Benjamin. Basically, things are wonderful, and I include a "Thank You for modern medicine" in my prayers almost every day. I feel like myself again, which also means that I feel happy and content for no particular reason, other than that I have a fabulous blessed life, instead of feeling despairing and fearful for no particular reason, in spite of the fact that I have a fabulous blessed life. :o)

I actually want to cook and bake and organize and clean and make my house beautiful again, which is another way that I know that I'm feeling like myself. As a matter of fact my parents were here for Memorial Day weekend, and I not only cooked real meals almost every day, including some gourmet citrus sea scallops and fabulous bruschetta (my mom helped a lot, of course), but I baked a cake with chocolate ganache filling. SO YUMMY!!! We washed the porch, and did a whole bunch of yard work, including putting down red mulch, planting flowers, trimming bushes, and pruning trees. We also (well, mostly my dad) tore out an old bush that was half dead, and replaced it with 3 small gardenia bushes, so that now our front door is flanked by gardenias on either side. Can you say curb appeal? I will post some pictures of how cute the house looks as soon as I can.

It's just so great to be me again, I can't even tell you. Also, Benjamin has gotten over his colic, amazingly enough. It's like he turned 3 months old, and a switch was flipped, or something. Now he is an incredibly wonderful happy baby, smiling all the time, who eats like a champ. As a matter of fact, he just woke up from his nap, so I need to go. But things are great!!! Finally!!! :o)

Hi...I'm Katie, and I'm an...

Well, readers, it turns out those feelings of desperation and hopelessness that I had about Benjamin eating? Didn't really go away, and, in fact, they got worse. So bad, in fact, that on Monday I was crying for about 5 hours straight, while I stood in the middle of the room clenching my fists, and my body, so that I didn't just start screaming at the top of my lungs. Also, turns out, that that's not normal. But I bet you already knew that. :o)

As I sobbed on the phone to my mom (wonderful woman!), she ventured a guess that what I was feeling was more than just simple frustration at having a colicky baby, and she advised me to see a doctor and get a blessing. Not necessarily in that order. So that night we had our home teachers come over and help Jeff give me a blessing. It was so wonderful, and really helped me feel like there was something that I could do about this whole thing. I love our ward, and all the people in it, but Monday night it actually felt like our home teachers were our family. I LOVE the Priesthood!! What an incredible thing, to have that power given to us from the Lord! And that our husbands, fathers, and brothers can use it to bless our lives and lift us up. Man, the Gospel is awesome!!!!!!!!!

On Tuesday I got an appointment with the doctor who delivered Benjamin, Dr. Henderson. He's a great person, someone who really listens, but is also very practical, and he's a member of the Church (an old Bishop, in fact), so I felt sure that he would understand me. Because I could only tell a member of the Church that I knew something was really really wrong with me because I felt the same kind of despair and hopelessness, combined with nauseousness, that I felt when I had committed serious sin, and have them understand that.

It was wonderful to tell a professional that I trusted that I dreaded when Benjamin woke up from a nap, that thoughts of the future filled me with anxiety and fear, that I cried at the drop of a hat, that I was fantasizing about going to live with my sister in Paris (actually, I wanted to be just like my sister, living in Paris, all by myself), and that I had even thought that I wanted to die, because then it would all be so much easier. Not that I wanted to kill myself (it wasn't nearly that bad) but I just wanted to go away, you know? And, intellectually, of course, I knew that those things weren't real, but it felt like it. The worst part was the feeling that I was weak, or that I was doing something wrong, because I wasn't figuring out things, like I had with the other kids.

But Dr. Henderson assured me that I wasn't weak, and I wasn't crazy, but I did have Postpartum Depression. I wasn't surprised at all, because I knew that something more was wrong than could just be fixed with praying a lot. Actually, Dr. Henderson had a really great insight: He said that for us Church members, sometimes the answer to our prayers is go to the doctor. Which was definitely my situation.

So to make a long story short (too late!), he put me on a low dose of anti-depressant, and I am now on serious medication for the first time in my life. Apparently you need to be on the medication for 6 months so you don't have a rebound situation. Jeff tells me to just think of it as a crutch that you use while you need it. I'm just glad that I'm the lowest dose available, so that it won't be so hard when it is time to get off of it. I took the first pill this morning, and so far, nothing much, but that's a good thing. It takes about 2 weeks for the full effect, I guess. Although you're supposed to feel the negative effects right away, which is good, because then you know that you don't want to use that particular medication, or dose, or whatever.

Well, this is a completely new experience for me, and I still have this feeling that I should just be able to be "strong enough" so that I'm not affected. But, really, it's something messed up with my hormones, so it's just something I'm getting taken care of, like a thyroid problem, or something. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

I also feel like I should put in a disclaimer that I don't have PPD just because Benjamin is such a hard baby, because he's actually a complete sweetheart, and has the best smiles, and snuggles, and is just great! He does have colicky times, which makes it harder, but it's not his fault. And I really love my baby.

And thanks for all of the supportive comments and emails that I got about my last message. It really does help. :o) And interestingly enough, I can't breastfeed while I'm on the medication, so I think that it was actually one of the Lord's "tender mercies" that I had gradually already gone to pumping, and that Benjamin was already on bottles, so that it wasn't a huge abrupt transition for the two of us. Apparently, the Lord, with his omnipotent view, knew that I was going to need to move Benjamin to bottles, when I didn't, and He made it so it was easier than it might have been. Wow, I am so humbled for all the blessings I am constantly receiving, even though I have felt so alone and forgotten. But we never are.

I can breathe...I think

Well, faithful readers, I'm sorry that I haven't posted in forever, but I have been getting used to 4 kids. In particular, getting used to having that fourth child be a "colicky" baby. I have heard that term, but I never truly understood what they meant.

For me it was having my sweet, mellow baby, at 3 weeks of age, morph suddenly into this crying machine that I couldn't really soothe or help. I actually brought him to the doctor, just to make sure that he wasn't broken, or something. I was completely mystified about the whole thing, but the doctor just informed me, that, no, there wasn't anything "wrong," he was just colicky, and there wasn't much I could about it. And I could look forward to this for about the next 2-3 months.

Most babies have fussy times but this was fussy to the extreme. He can be smiling at me one minute, and then, the next thing I know, crying inconsolably. For me the worst nightmare of it all was that his colic seemed to be connected to eating. Every time that I would get him to latch on he would nurse for a few minutes and then he would inhale some, pull off, and then get mad. Or he would have a bubble and stiffen out and not want to latch on again. I would spend 1/2 an hour playing "bait and switch" with the pacifier (which he liked) to get him to latch on and eat enough. But the bottom line is that he just didn't like nursing, and it was incredibly difficult for both of us.

I have exclusively breastfed all of my other kids for a year, and none of them would take a bottle, or anything. I've never even bought formula before! (Doctors always want me to give my kids formula instead of milk around 8 months, but as they're holding their Similac clipboards while they write with their Enfamil pens, I just don't trust that they are giving me an unbiased opinion. Call me crazy.) I actually really like breastfeeding--it's easy (once you get past those first couple of weeks when it hurts like you're being tortured), it's free, it's always available at the perfect temperature, and it's better for the baby.

So I was completely bewildered at this child, and beyond upset that I couldn't fulfill that most basic need. I felt (depending on the day) frustrated, depressed, trapped, alone, crazy, desperate, miserable, and a dozen other emotions. I called my mom a bunch of times, and luckily she had wonderful suggestions, but most of all she was able to talk me off the (emotional) ledge. Thank goodness! I also called several sisters in the ward, which was wonderful to be able to do. I'm so glad that we have such an incredible network of women in the Church! Jeff also gave me an incredible blessing that answered so many of my worries, mostly telling me that Heavenly Father was aware of my struggles, and He loved me. It's so great to be reminded of that, even though I do know it. Really.

But it wasn't getting any better. Sometimes he would latch on, and I had figured out how I could help him with my hyperactive letdown (I am a seriously a firehose), but it wasn't really solving the problem, because he didn't want to eat, and we were both so stressed out. I talked to my dad, who is so awesomely practical, and he said, in effect, so you feed him formula, it's not going to kill him, and there's been lots of wonderful kids who've been formula fed. Which was true, but I wasn't ready to cry "uncle" yet.

So, I just kept at it, making the two of us miserable. Finally, yesterday, I called a lactation consultant, desperate for anything that would make it possible to get through the next 2 months (supposedly colic goes away at around 3-4 months). She listened to everything that I had tried, and then said, "I'm sorry, but I don't have any suggestions for you. You've tried everything that I tell people to do. Just keep at it. Good luck!"

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? Nothing!? Sigh. . .

After that, my mom suggested that I don't get so hung up about how much he eats, and just feed him for the 4-5 minutes that he'll stay on, and stop trying to getting him to latch on again, since it makes him so upset. Because maybe he gets full really fast. Except that he drank TWO bottles of breastmilk last night, so he's able to get 8 oz at a time with no problem. He loves bottles and just doesn't like nursing, plain and simple. Also, last night I couldn't get him to even initially latch on to save my life.

After a lot of thought and prayer I realized a few key things:

#1, Even according to a professional, I've tried everything that there is to do. I've done research, and talked to every one I could think of, etc. I have done everything that I could think of.

#2, Although I prefer nursing, formula and bottles are not evil or from the devil. As a matter of fact, talking to a couple women who had to do exclusive formula from the beginning, their babies had less problems eating, and have had no immune problems whatsoever. One gal's kids have never even had an ear infection. And they are perfectly bright and wonderful children.

#3, The bottom line is that I need to do what is the right thing for my child and for me. Nursing was such a source of stress for the two of us, and wasn't meeting his needs. So if formula and bottles are the best way to do that, then they are the best thing for us.

Last night I tried offering myself once, but he didn't want to latch on again, so I just said, ok, and gave him a bottle of breastmilk and formula mixed together. And it was amazing, how much happier he was. Has been this whole day, as a matter of fact. There was no screaming, no struggling, no anything! Except for eating and sleeping. And he only got up once, as opposed to 2 or 3 times, because he was actually full! Jeff got a better night's sleep with no crying next to the bed each time, and I was able to sleep better, and Benjamin was much happier. I feel like singing hallelujah!

Right now I'm pumping each time that I feed him so that I can give him a bottle of milk and formula mixed. I know that pumping is not ideal, but I'm willing to do it for as long as I can. And who knows, in a couple of months he might want to nurse after this whole colic thing is done. But I'm ok if eventually we move to only formula, as long as he's ok. Hopefully I can figure out a good system for the pumping. Right now, I'm just thrilled that he's eating, and he's happy about it. Finally!

So, dear readers, wish me luck, and pray for us both. And hopefully I will continue to have better and better updates for you.

And Baby Makes Six?

Well, it's been almost 3 weeks since the newest Christensen arrived, and I'm barely starting to feel like myself, but I thought I would try to post an update for everyone. Forgive me if this is old news, and feel free to skip it.

Just like when Kelcey was born, this baby didn't seem to feel the need to come on his due date or even later, so our Doctor scheduled me for an induction the week after, on Monday the 23rd. My mom came on late on the 19th, so we had a weekend of hanging out, hoping that contractions would start, or something, but. . .nada. I had a great time with my mom, but I was hoping that we would have been in the hospital. C'est la vie.

Anyway, the hospital was supposed to call us Monday morning between 5:30 and 8:30, and, of course, they didn't call until 8:15. I was seriously freaking out, afraid that we weren't going to be able to have the baby, but thankfully everything worked out as planned. Jeff and I went to the birth center, and, after a short wait, we were shown into our labor room. The doctor on call was Doctor Henderson, which I was glad about, because he's a wonderful doctor, very practical and down to earth, and he's also a member of the Church. He was even a bishop of the Raleigh 2nd ward several years ago, and his wife is currently the Stake Relief Society president. Interestingly enough, Sister Henderson spoke in our ward's Sacrament Meeting the day before we went to the hospital, so we were chatting about that while the nurse was getting my IV in, etc.

They gave me pitocin right away, and then, after awhile, when the contractions started to get worse, Doctor Henderson gave me the epidural. Getting the epidural is awful, and really painful, but once it's in there, it is so much better, that any pain is completely worth it. I think that a few minutes of fairly intense pain is definitely better than hours of really intense pain. I swear, I would do commercials for epidurals, if they would let me.

Anyway, I had finally progressed enough for them to break my water around 1:00 pm. That's always the thing that really gets me going, and so I was at a "10" and ready to push at just after 2:30.

The thing that I especially love about epidurals is that I can feel the pressure without feeling the pain so I know when it's "time". Just as the nurse was telling me that I should let her know when I started to feel the pressure down in my bum, instead of in my belly, I had this really big contraction with tons of pressure that all felt just "down", you know? The nurse checked, and yup, the baby's head had moved down with that contraction, and it was time to push.

Doctor Henderson came in, the nurse did the cool "transformer" move with the bed, and we were ready to go. I pushed with 2 contractions, and Benjamin Bryan Christensen was born at 2:39 PM, on February 23rd. Yeah, I know, my labor is ridiculously easy and short. "Don't hate me because it's easy." :o) Labor, at least with an epidural, is actually my favorite part of the whole pregnancy.
Benjamin was absolutely beautiful, and we had a wonderful time holding him while Doctor Henderson stitched me up, etc. His Apgar was an 8/9, and once they weighed him we got a huge surprise (pun intended): he was 9 lbs, 3 oz! Jarom had been 7-9, Taran was 8-1, and Kelcey was 8-3, so we figured that he would be bigger, but I didn't think he'd be a whole pound more! I guess that having him marinating for that extra week really made a difference.

I don't have any complaints, because my labor wasn't any harder (obviously), and I couldn't tell any difference when it was time to push, as compared with our other kids, and he is so much more alert and ready to go. He was holding his head up by himself almost from the first hour, he nursed like a champ from the get-go, and he is just awesome!!

My mom stayed for a week after we got home from the hospital, and was our total guardian angel. Jeff had a conference in Winston-Salam and was gone for the two days right after I got home from the hospital, and my mom took care of everything: getting the kids ready, doing carpool, making dinner, and she even did all of our laundry the Saturday before she left. Mom, thank you, thank you, thank you!!!!!! I literally could not have survived without her, especially because I was going through the "baby blues" during that first week. You know, crying at the drop of a hat, having roller coaster emotions, feeling trapped and desperate one moment and perfectly fine the next, not to mention the "crazy thoughts."

For example, I had to go to the bank one morning and I left Benjamin at home with my mom since it was such a quick trip. I had to go inside and it was very crowded. So as I'm standing in line I have this horrible vision of someone taking the bank hostage while they rob it, and I start having a total panic attack, tearing up and breathing hard, worried that if that happened that I wouldn't be able to get home in time to feed Benjamin, and what if I never made it home at all, and what if I got in an accident on the way home, and what if. . . !!!!

I've gotten back to my normal hormonal and emotional self (well, mostly. . . I still cry at stupid commercials), thank goodness. I still don't understand what the purpose is behind giving new mothers a hormonal cocktail that could knock out an Rhino, but I'm sure Heavenly Father has a good reason. I'd just like to know what it is. :o)

Now that it's been almost 3 weeks, I can't believe how wonderful he is. He has fussy times, of course, but he's sleeping pretty much all night with only one feeding around 4:00, and he's starting to really enjoy his swing and bouncy seat, so that I'm on my way to being able to actually do things when I need to, like get my other kids ready for school, or the dishes, or whatever.

Jeff has been so great, and has really stepped up helping around the house. He has made some real sacrifices to be able to help me in the mornings, and putting the kids to bed, etc. Jeff has so much going on with work and his calling, but somehow he's found the time to be there when I really need him. Man, how lucky am I!?!

Well, I hope that this has answered all your burning questions, and that I didn't gross anyone out. :o) I wanted to share our story with all of you, and tell you how much I've appreciated the sweet things that you have done and said. Thank you for everything. And now, I need to go take a shower before little hoosie wakes up. :o)