Why One Is Not Enough

I have been wanting to write this post for a while. Unfortunately, taking care of our two beautiful daughters has made it harder to sit down and write, or even sit down and brush my hair for that matter. But as much as I joke about the troubles of parenting two little ones, I am extremely excited about there being two, and not just one, of them.

Seriously, being the only child is not fun.
I speak from experience.

Keep in mind that what I am going to say does not apply to the many wonderful parents I know who for various reasons out of their control have only been able to have one child. The size of a family is often determined by reasons that no one outside of that family has the right to pry into.

But sometimes there is the planned one and only child. That lone individual who will presumably be spoiled and dotted on.

"We can't afford anymore." "I don't think I have the time or energy to handle two." "I just want one so I can spoil him/her."

Please don't make this mistake.

Let me explain why.

1. It's really not that much more expensive. Have you heard of hand-me-downs? Consignment stores? Yard sales? Friends with kids who just give you stuff they are done using? No, it's not cruelty for your children to have used items. Your child doesn't have to sleep in a $500 designer crib (and that designer crib will get scratches just as easily as the $100 one). All the baby equipment you will reuse on the second child. Kids can share rooms. Clothes can be reused too sometimes--but seriously, clothes are the last thing you should worry about because they are so easy to get. I was the only child and at one time I think half of my clothes originated from a dumpster.

2. It's not as hard as you think. Your first child trains you. Your second child tests that training. Running around after a toddler while holding a crying baby is exhausting but won't last forever. They will grow up. They will use the toilet some day. They will go to school. They will be able to wash dishes.

3. Spoiling isn't good. Yes, it can be fun to do and I've seen plenty of spoiled children who are not the only child in their family. The problem isn't so much with the money you spend on that child but rather with all of the good and bad attention that child will have to deal with for the rest of his/her life. Sometimes kids just don't want parental attention and often we as parents overdo it. It's so much easier to overdo it when there is only one.

4. Think of their future: not your future--your child's future. After he or she goes to college, begins a successful career, maybe gets married and has some kids--around the time when you are getting older and need to be taken care of or just need more medical attention--think about that future time. Who is going to visit you in the hospital? Who is going to either get you settled in a retirement home or take care of you in his/her own home? Who is going to maintain or sell your house? Who is going to sort through all of the things you leave behind? That one and only child who will have no one to share the burden. If you have two children at least that means there is one child for every parent so perhaps they can trade off a little.

5. Your one and only will never have the sibling experience. Never. Why deny them the reality of sibling rivalry, teasing, and solidarity? Also even if your only child decides to break the trend and have multiple children, these grandchildren of yours will never know what it is like to have an aunt or uncle (at least on one side of the family). If family troubles come your way (divorce, separation, death), your only child will have to handle this alone without someone else closer in age and perspective to commiserate with.

Also, some other interesting facts:

"Only children who marry other only children have the highest divorce rate of any birth-order matchup."
(Thank goodness Tom has siblings)

Only children tend to be "deficient in skills that large families teach, such as how to negotiate for the last Oreo, how to concentrate in the midst of noise and disorder and how to share."
(I'm horrible at defending my opinion . . . and my Oreos. I am, however, good at sneaking away into a corner and having them quietly.)

"They are 50 percent more likely to be obese than children with siblings"
(Shortly after I announced the exciting news of Ana's birth, I was told: "I sure hope your stomach didn't get really big and that you didn't gain weight while pregnant with her." Yep, apparently it's a real concern for us only children. We're always sneaking away into corners and eating those carrot sticks--I mean Oreos.)

(See this article)


If you end up having only one child, seriously consider the following tips:

- Don't lock your child inside a tower (or house) all day.

- Trust them to go outside in the yard on their own without announcing the departure.

- Don't secretly check if they are alive while they are sleeping. (This is really creepy to wake up to, especially when you are a 20-something-year-old.)

- Let them have a driver's license.

- Let them date someone in college without you chaperoning.

- Don't read their personal journals.

Isn't parenting great?

By the time you have two young kids....

By the time you have two young kids....

Your husband has realized that there are really only two choices . . And they both involve kids.

With two hands you can do everything plus extra. With one hand you can do most things. With no hands you can do some things (feet, chins and shoulders are usually involved to compensate).

You've learned how to speed clean--that is, take your house from disaster zone to the appearance of clean and organized in the 30 minutes before one child wakes up and begins demanding something.

Putting clothes in the washer or dryer counts as doing laundry. Folding and putting away is extra.

People usually don't comment about you having "your hands full" (yet) but they are thinking it especially when you are at the grocery store with a baby screaming from her baby carrier and a toddler trying to escape the shopping cart.

A shower is no longer a necessity but a luxury.

You've given up the burp cloth. Who needs one more thing to keep track of? You use baby blankets or whatever is close by to compensate.

Having two young kids is great because by alternating throughout the day, they can keep you 100% busy. One goes down for a nap; the other wakes up. One demands food; the other demands food too. One makes a mess and you clean it up; then the other makes a mess. Which is why the morning time is a mom's worst nightmare: three against one.

But in all seriousness, they are so precious.

Even the toddler who suddenly began walking around the house with her nose in the air pouting, "Hmph!"


(Oh, and Dad, if you are reading this, weren't you supposed to do a videocall with us this past week? Please report for duty!)

The First Few Weeks

The first few weeks with a new baby in the house always tends to be a bit challenging. Though I know a few people who seem to pass through this period unscathed, our little family always seems to have trouble surviving the experience.

For example, when we had Constance, Tom ended up having a kidney stone and then a procedure to remove the kidney stone and law school finals all around the same time. And I was an emotional, tired mess, feeling very much alone taking care of a newborn baby who was up all night and a husband who was in a lot of pain and confined to a chair for several days.

With Ana, it was Constance who was a bit of an emotional, energetic mess. The week after Ana was born, Tom was instructed that his late appearances at work from the week before when I was supposedly on bed rest were no longer acceptable; he didn't get a single day off after the baby came and the hours he missed in the morning from staying home a little longer to help with Constance and Ana were all deducted from his yearly allotment of 5 sick days. That same week we discovered Ana had lost almost a pound, wasn't gaining back the weight, and was having trouble eating. The day after we heard this bad news, I ended up in the emergency room for some bleeding. The day after that, Constance got sick with a stomach bug.

I am very thankful for a midwife who has been taking good care of me during this rough postpartum time. I was used to being sent home from the hospital to survive on my own with the new baby, so it came as a surprise when she texted me at least once a day to check on me; when she did several postpartum home visits to weigh the baby, check vitals, and make sure we were getting the rest and nourishment we needed; when she showed up with lunch for both me and Constance and held the baby while I devoured what ended up being my only substantial meal for the day; when she had a lactation specialist come and help me feed Ana; and when she brought me the most delicious lactation bread. I know she normally doesn't do this much for her clients so I feel extremely guilty for all the special attention but it sure did help me get through this rough time. Next time I'm seriously looking into a postpartum doula. (Tom likes to remind me that "doula" means "slave.")

Also, it's really nice to be living closer to family now. My sister-in-law who's a professional nanny came and took Constance to the park and the library. And my mother-in-law used her grandmotherly magic one day to put Constance down for a nap within a record 10 minutes. I appreciate having someone to call when I need a few items from the grocery store and for my friend who kindly picked up these unique items at the health food store for me.

I hate that Tom's work is farther from home right now (Woodland Park). When I started bleeding, I had no idea how bad it was or how quickly I should go to the hospital (until my midwife informed me to go NOW). But Tom's mom was over to our house in 15 minutes, packing the kids in the car, and driving me to Memorial Hospital. Tom's dad raced home from work in record time and watched Constance. By the time Tom was back in town, I was in the ER. Then they bought us dinner and we had priesthood blessings that night.

I'm also extremely grateful for my friends from Church who brought us yummy food, took Constance to Church the day after I had Ana, and helped her escape the house on the nice sunny days.

I miss being able to go on adventures with Constance everyday, and I hate that we don't have as much cuddle time as we used to. But right now our days center around getting Ana to eat. This process can take over an hour; and if I wait too long and she gets too upset. then she refuses to eat at all. She is still such a sweet, easygoing baby; I just wish she would eat (and eliminate) more.

Speaking of eating, my wonderful midwife says I need to rest more and eat more food with more fat. On the other hand, my dad seems convinced that I am doomed to be a fat blob sitting at home with the kids. In fact, he was so convinced of this as my destiny that he bought me one of the most expensive jogging strollers out there. I tried to tell him that I'm not much of a jogger and would be perfectly fine with a less expensive stroller but alas this showed up at our door the other day.

Even though we couldn't go outside with it, Constance seemed pretty convinced that the fancy stroller was the best thing that ever happened to her on a cold, snowy day.

Being a Parent of Two

I feel like a professional parent now that I'm the mom of two.
Although I get the sense that I kind of have it easy right now because Anastasia is an angel baby.

 See the halo?

Seriously, the only thing that really phases her are diaper changes. She hates them. But everything else about being a baby--the burps, the hiccups, the gas, the bumping around as she gets passed from one person to another, the loud chanting and wailing of her older sister--she takes all of it rather placidly.

With Constance, I was used to a fairly intense burping session that included pacing back and forth, bouncing up and down, and patting a little back. I remember her thrashing back and forth crying loudly until out came the little air pocket of discomfort. I was used to her having to nurse to sleep and then waking up to cry an hour later. I remember being up multiple times each night that first week and feeling so sleep deprived.

I was bracing myself for that all over again; but so far, Anastasia hasn't been nearly as demanding as Constance was as a newborn or even is now. In fact, the other night it was Constance who was up screaming for hours while Ana calmly went to sleep.

She has such a different personality than her older sister. Constance is vivacious, precocious, loving, emotional, and often needy. We have yet to see exactly what Anastasia's personality is but I'm starting to see glimpses.

Right now, she's just a little cuddle bug.
When her life gets a little uncomfortable, all she wants is just to be cuddled. No bouncing or patting--just cuddles. Then a few minutes later she will quietly get rid of that uncomfortable burp.

Constance is the best older sister ever. She feels very responsible for Anastasia's well being. Constance is always checking on the baby, making sure she has her "ba ba," gently patting Anastasia's head and cheek, and shushing her while I'm changing her diaper. Constance has always loved babies so I'm glad she's transferred that love onto her little sister.

We were a little worried about how bedtime would go with two little ones. Constance requires quite a bit of time and effort to get her to sleep every night--it's kind of always been that way with her. When I was putting her to bed at night, it took me on average one hour. But shortly before Ana was born, superdad took over some of that responsibility, and the results have been quite astounding.

Constance always had these weird demands for me--rub my back, rub my arm, put your arm under my head, don't touch my pillow with a 10-foot pole much less your head, sing to me (but NOT that song). But with superdad, he just tucks her in then lies down next to her bed on some pillows and blankets we have there, and she talks to him for a little bit then they are usually both asleep in 30 minutes.

Superdad is great. He deserves a cape.

I still put Constance down for a nap. I try to use that as our cuddle time so she doesn't feel neglected. The first time this happened (see below), I felt like supermom. Two kids asleep at the same time within 30 minutes? Now that is some accomplishment. (Obviously, I moved Ana to a safer sleeping location after taking this picture.)

I'm happy that the "only child situation" in my lineage has come to an end. Constance will now grow up with a sibling to play with, nap with, learn with, go on adventures with, argue with, protect, tease (and quite possibly be teased by), and love.

Anastasia Chiyo

On February 7 at 11:00 pm, we welcomed Anastasia Chiyo Stone into our family. Of course, she had technically been part of our family for a while but we got our first peek at what baby Ana looked like in real life.

This pregnancy, labor, and delivery was so different from everything we experienced with Constance.

Constance came a week and a half late; Anastasia came almost a week and a half early (depends which due date you use).
Constance was born after a snow storm; Anastasia was born on one of the warmest days this winter.
With Constance, I was almost immediately in a lot of pain; for the longest time, Anastasia didn't even have me convinced I was in labor.
Constance was a bit drowsy and didn't start to wail right away; Anastasia came out using the full extent of her lungs but quickly settled down.
Constance had trouble remembering to eat frequently and to eat enough those first few days; Anastasia latched on right away and has been nursing like clockwork ever since.
Oh, and Constance was born in the hospital; and Anastasia was born at home.
(If you are at all interested in the home birth part, see this post.)

The story of Anastasia's grand appearance began with the Denver zoo. That's where we were all day while my stomach was cramping. And apparently that is also where everyone else in Denver was on Saturday, or so it seemed based on the suffocating crowds of adults, strollers, and children.

Anastasia kindly waited until that adventure was over and we were safely home.
Then she waited until Tom put Constance to bed for the night.
Then I realized the contractions were 2 minutes apart and my body was starting to shake.

But seriously, it just didn't seem like real labor because I wasn't screaming through waves of pain. In fact, I don't think I screamed at all this time--and that is with no epidural. Granted I wasn't flat on my back, which for some reason makes having a baby 100 times easier.
Also, Tom didn't have a kidney stone this time. And the midwife didn't require him to do any weird labor coach-type things during or after labor, which I think he appreciated.

Constance slept through the entire night, woke up the next morning, and discovered she had a little sister. We have been talking about baby Ana for several months but I think it was still a bit of a shock to see her mommy holding a little baby. She observed the scene for a little while then suddenly burst into tears and wept for a good minute once she realized her days of "only child" were forever gone.

After that, however, she was extremely kind and loving to her little sister. She insisted that Ana was "Mommy's baby" and instructed us on how to take care of the baby: "Mommy, hold that baby, K?" Constance was very concerned about Ana being hungry or sleepy or sad. She even burst into tears when Ana lost one of her socks.

At first glance, Anastasia looks quite a bit like Constance did as a newborn. But she has some pretty distinctive facial features and her hair seems a little lighter.

We can't wait for Constance and Anastasia to start going on adventures together. . .

. . . or for those 9 babies total that Constance has said Mommy will have.

The Adventures of Home Birth

Originally, I wasn't set on a home birth with Anastasia. I started out looking into a hospital birth with a doula. I had Constance in the hospital; and although my labor was fairly quick and easy for a first pregnancy, there were aspects of that experience I did not want to repeat: laboring at home and trying to time the trip to the hospital, the impersonal treatment (I just got passed around several different doctors and midwives at an obgyn practice and they didn't do the greatest job keeping track of what was going on with me or my baby), being stuck on monitors and unable to move much during a contraction, and the week-long headache from my epidural.

But then I met my midwife Christie. And after talking to her, I was prompted to ask Tom if he'd be open to a home birth. He said "OK" and then said a lot of other things in later months that were a little more complicated to interpret. But in the end, I think we made the right choice for this particular pregnancy and birth.

Home birth can be one of those touchy topics where you don't know whether you are safe publicizing that information. It does seem to be getting more common but there are strong advocates for and against it. My personal opinion is that you should not go into it blindly. There are risks associated with not being in a hospital; and especially with your first child, it may be a good idea to be in a hospital anyways.

Midwives vary in expertise and how they practice. In Colorado, midwives are licensed and regulated by the state so you can't have a home birth with a licensed midwife unless your pregnancy is considered low risk. One of the things I liked about Christie was her philosophy of not taking risks with home births and transporting to a hospital quickly even if there was a chance that something was going to go wrong. She was also very upfront and honest about what she would do in specific circumstances.

The whole week before Anastasia was born, I was having Braxton Hicks contractions that felt especially uncomfortable in my lower tummy and back. I could definitely feel that the baby had dropped but since I had been getting Braxton Hicks contractions for a few months, I still felt that it could be a little while before Anastasia actually came.

We woke up Saturday morning and I had the feeling that maybe I could have the baby that day. I tried to keep track of the amount of time between the "fake" contractions but quickly lost interest when it seemed longer than 30 minutes and not always consistent. Spending the day at the zoo walking around must have helped get me ready for labor. And Anastasia turned out to be a very considerate little baby: she waited until after I finished my editing projects, after I had bought some freezer meals, after we came back from the zoo, and after Constance went to bed for the night before she decided to come.

That evening I noticed that the contractions were there again. Still not painful; just uncomfortable. I decided to force myself to do some nesting (apparently, this trait does not come naturally for me). I picked up around the house, packed some essentials away for Constance in her backpack, and went to the store to pick up some diapers.

At 8:30 I decided to go upstairs and lie down. It seemed that the "contractions" were coming every 15 minutes. At 8:32, I texted Christie to tell her that this definitely was labor. The contractions were 10 minutes apart and getting closer very quickly. Then my legs started shaking and at that point Christie decided she was going to come. I was supposed to call her when I thought I was in active labor but I'm glad she was keeping track of things better than I was because I still wasn't convinced I was going to have a baby. None of the contractions had me writhing on the floor or moaning or screaming. I was expecting something like that again since labor with Constance had been quite painful.

Even when Christie arrived (9:00), I was still talking and smiling and moving around normally between contractions. When I felt a contractions coming, I just knelt down next to the bed, rested my head on the pillow, and took deep breaths. It really wasn't hard at all and I didn't feel that sense of panic about being able to get through the pain. Honestly, I didn't feel pain during the two hours of labor. I suppose my body already knew what to do from last time, or maybe it was the herbal birth prep formula I had been taking that helped, or the fact that I knew from experience exactly what position I needed to be in during contractions.

We didn't have to drive anywhere; I didn't have to get hooked up to monitors; I wasn't lying on my back; Constance was downstairs sleeping through the entire event.

Christie and her assistant set up everything for the birth. She carries all of the usual necessities for a birth: oxygen, traditional medical equipment, medicine to stop excessive bleeding, among other things.

Christie checked my vitals before I got in the birth pool. She also checked to see how far along I was and what position the baby was in. I was surprised. At this point, I was still worried that everyone had come for nothing and my "labor" might stop altogether or it might be hours before I had the baby.

Nope. I was dilated to 8.

I went in the pool. They kept checking the baby's heartbeat every few minutes. Then Christie said I could start pushing if I wanted. I tried a little. Then a few contractions later, it started to hurt quite a bit and transition hit and my body started forcing me to push. At that point, I found Tom's hand and the rest was a little blurry.

My biggest fear from last time was the awful feeling of not being able to get enough air in my lungs between and during contractions. That horrible breathlessness is what led me to get an epidural with Constance. But it didn't really happen this time, granted I was only pushing for about 5 minutes and the painful part of labor lasted only about 10 minutes. Being in warm water and delivering the baby kneeling down and leaning over the edge of the pool was such a better experience. Several pushes and her head was out; one more push and at 11 pm the rest of her came out. Christie pulled her out of the pool and held her horizontally for a few seconds, gently patting her back, then she put her right up to me. Anastasia immediately started wailing and her eyes were wide open.

They helped me onto the bed and I held Anastasia for an hour while she was still connected to her umbilical cord and while Christie and her assistant were cleaning everything up. Tom held her for a little bit too while they were getting me comfortable.

 Then Christie did the newborn exam (same one as they do in the hospital).

Our little baby turned out to be 8 lbs and 20.5 in. I guess it's a good thing she came a bit early.

Two hours after I had Anastasia, the entire room was put back in order, Christie and her assistant packed everything up, and they left us to go to sleep in our own bed with our new baby. We actually did get a little bit of sleep in because the room was dark and no one was coming in every couple of hours to check my vitals over and over again.

I am so glad we were at home for this birth. I don't think we would have made it to the hospital in time because I wasn't a good predictor of how far along I was in labor. I am thankful we have a healthy baby who arrived here safely and without any complications.

My Syndrome

We all know that I suffer from dementia, toxemia, and an addiction to pain pills. The two former conditions are supposedly caused by me occasionally wearing glasses to drive. While all three of these conditions have never been confirmed by a professional or even friends who know me fairly well and observe me rather closely, I do suffer from a much more realistic syndrome.

It's a disorder of sorts--of that I am sure, because I don't think most "normal" people exhibit the symptoms that I do.

Here's my problem: I can't spend money.
When I spend money, I become depressed and extremely nervous.
When Tom spends money (usually only when it's largish amounts), I become depressed and extremely nervous.

Normal everyday activities such as buying food at the grocery store requires a great deal of mental and emotional preparation. If grocery shopping doesn't go the way I plan it in my mind and on the Google spreadsheet (for example, if I go $10 over budget), I feel ashamed all the way home and until the next paycheck.

I literally had an emotional breakdown when we found out that the last check from Tom's previous employer was going to be delayed 30 days. I thought I was getting early postpartum depression because that is exactly what it felt like.

The auto mechanic at Jiffy Lube thought I was angry at him because of the look on my face when he pulled up the bill, and he consequently gave me a 10% military discount even though everyone knows "attorney" is not synonymous with "military."

I've seen bloggers bribe about how they feed a family of three on only $50 a week, but try doing that for a year, factor in weird pregnancy-related food needs, and the fact that you can only eat plain cheerios for so many months before you break down and buy the "Honey Nut Toasty O's" that is "sweetened whole grain oat cereal with real honey and almond flavor."

One day a couple of months ago after cleaning out all of the old food in our fridge, I decided to take "before" and "after" pictures.

This is before I went grocery shopping for the week:

 This is after I went grocery shopping for the week:

Although, I really don't know what I'm whining about because this is what our fridge looked like shortly after we were married.
We've all been there, right?

I'm hoping my syndrome clears up once Tom's new paychecks start coming in.

I hope I'm not cursed forever.

I hope I can one day go to the grocery store again and spend $75 without almost bursting into tears at checkout.

If not, let me know if you are aware of any rehab programs/tips for this type of disorder.