Ezra Brings Home the Bacon

Within the past month, we have realized that Ezra simply blossoms when given positive reinforcement. We are, as I think most parents are (at least I hope we're not the only ones) prone to lean toward the side of negative reinforcement (ie. "If you don't finish your food in the next 20 minutes, there will be no treat tonight....) I'm pretty sure I've written about this in the past. So, how do we fix this? How do we positively reinforce (apart from the obvious hugs, kisses and encouraging words that he gets his fill of whenever he's around us?) We have done sticker charts but the charm of those are wearing off and, besides, once the chart's full, what do you do with it? You guessed it, throw it away. The other major form of reward used by parents (including us) is typically food (ie. candy, snacks, treats, etc.) We're not too thrilled with this pattern in general. Using food as a bribe has some pretty obvious downfalls. Well then, what are we to do? In the Hutchins' home, we have landed on money. That's right. Ezra is being paid for positive behavior. We found a couple major benefits to this reward:

• We can begin to teach Ezra how to handle money
• Ezra doesn't fully understand that 3 pennies is not a lot of money...yet...
• We have a more hands-on tool for learning math
  

The most difficult behavior that Ezra struggles with (as do many 4-year olds so we're not EXTREMELY concerned) is a complaining spirit...and the opportunities for him to complain seem to have no limit -- "Time to go brush your teeth, Ezra." (complain); "Ezra your mom's here to pick you up (from the Children's Center.)" (complain); anytime we have to leave from a place he does not want to leave from...(complain); if given a new toy or a piece of candy it doesn't take him long at all to start talking about how he wants more or the next toy that will complete the "set"....it goes on and on. So, the money system works like this: If he can do the above without complaining, he gets three pennies. The big ones are the teeth brushing and the leaving of places that he wants to stay at. I actually have a bag of "rewards" in the trunk of my car to give to him if he leaves the Children's Center or the YMCA without complaining. This may seem like bribing....and maybe it is...but for now, we're cool with it. Also, keep in mind the other "rewards" he is given are usually things that he already needs. For instance, Ezra needed new underwear. Today I picked up a package of 5 pairs of Cars underwear. Guess what he got for a reward today? The package of underwear? No...1 pair of the underwear from the package...gotta make it last. And, guess what: he loved it! He's been given toothbrushes, socks, toothpaste...all the essentials you can think of. I just build it up as a reward, and he's psyched about it. I wonder if he's going to have issues when he grows up....?

Anyway...back to the money thing. It's been working out REALLY well. I can also take money away, for instance, if Ezra is wasting water when he brushes his teeth (which he LOVES to do...if he went unchecked, the water would seriously run the entire time...) He has a piggy bank on his dresser and I have a big Ziploc bag of pennies in my sock drawer.

"All right, Ezra! Time to brush your teeth and if you can do it with a good attitude, you get 3 pennies!" He is a completely different child. See, we've been trying to give him more autonomy (ie. brushing his teeth on his own (with a once-over from us after for good measure), dressing himself, putting away his toys at night and blankets in the morning, throwing his dirty clothes in the hamper, etc.) We're trying to do this without hovering over him while he's doing it. The problem with this is that he has a hard time staying on task and then, of course, forgets what he's supposed to be doing. Not only does the money help him to stay focused, but I also made a pictorial check-list of sorts for his bedroom for different tasks he does. It works REALLY well. I always tell him to check his list before he reports to me to make sure he did all the things he was supposed to do. Oddly enough, for a kid who could sit in his room ALL DAY LONG and listen to books on CD, he has a hard time focusing on what we tell him to do and following directions. So, if he reports to me and he's not done something on the checklist, he loses a penny. That's happened maybe once or twice. His ability to listen and follow directions is getting markedly better.

These little pennies here and there are like little bonuses but Ezra really brings home the bacon by doing a job. His job these days is reading. If he reads a whole book all by himself, he gets a whole dollar! If we go halfsies on the book, he gets 50 cents (which I sometimes think he likes more since I usually give him 50 pennies!) Now, keep in mind, this is not a required job. He can do it whenever and as often or as little as he wants. This has been AMAZING because while Ezra doesn't like to sit still long enough to work through a book, the incentive of the money has been too hard for him to resist! Already this week, just for reading books alone, Ezra has earned 3 dollars! That's how things really start to add up and this is where the reward really starts to get clearer. We've been doing this for about a month now and a couple weeks ago, Ezra had saved up nearly 12 dollars! Of course, we went shopping! He is really into collecting cars from the Cars movie. He had his heart set on one in particular but the store didn't have it and this is where the cool conversations about handling money happen. Of course there were many other things he was perfectly willing to buy so we picked out some options. He could pick one set of options OR wait and try to find the original car he wanted somewhere else OR continue to save the money for something bigger. It wasn't an easy decision for him and we stood in that aisle for quite some time weighing things. He finally landed on one of the options in front of him (2 new cars) and promptly began planning how he would get more money to get the other cars he wanted.

Another cool money conversation happened last week. Fridays are usually mine and Ezra's morning to do something different from the usual together. On Fridays, we will go to the library or the pool at the Y or the Science Center in downtown Louisville. I typically let Ezra make the decision but on this particular Friday, I really had already decided that we wouldn't be going to the Science Center. I have to pay $3 to park each time we go and I didn't have the cash on hand to pay it (they don't take cards) and I didn't feel like going to the bank...I also don't want to spend $12 to $15 a month on parking at the Science Center because Ezra would probably go there every Friday (we have a membership.) When I told him this news, he was downcast. I told him the situation and then I mentioned that if he really wanted to go, he had $3 in his piggy bank and he could pay to park if he wanted but that (at the time) would deplete his funds. He considered it, but then decided to go to the library instead. I LOVE that he chose to go to the library because I know that he REALLY loves to go to the Science Center. It shows that he is starting to think about what he wants to do with his funds. Really cool.

I can see this very easily leading into money for chores but don't get me wrong, though. I do believe that it's important that Ezra understands he is a part of a family and money or no money, there are things that need to be done and you just do them because you're part of this family team. But, I can really see the value in showing him that money is not only something you have to work for but something you have to learn how to manage properly. He's gonna have to do it eventually, why not try to start developing healthy habits in him at a young age...? I mean, we teach our kids how to do all the other things they will have to do as grown-ups (ie. read, wash yourself, count, prepare food, etc.), why not give them access and practical hands-on education with money? I don't know...maybe we're making a horrible mistake....

Some of you may be shaking your heads and rolling your eyes at me. I promise, Ezra is still a kid. I am not holding pennies over his head all day long and making sure he measures up. It's just become a useful tool and a preferable reward.

I apologize for the rambly way in which this has been written. I don't know how many people read this, but I sure would love to hear feedback on this whether you're a parent or not!

Oh, a bit of this and that...

Not much desire to wax poetic for me this week. I thought a bit of a slapdash post (as my friend Jill calls them) was warranted.

• Michael got his wisdom teeth out -- one side before Christmas and the other side last weekend. Poor guy. He originally went in to have a tooth checked out that he thought was cracked. He left on a Friday morning at 8 and the dentist told him he had to have them out. He didn't get home until after 4 in the afternoon! Michael was aware of all that was going on. The dentists there don't like to use gas for wisdom teeth extractions. At one point, the dentist pulled a nerve out, held it up and exclaimed, "Wow! That is the largest nerve I have ever seen! It looks like a brain! (then to the tech) Take a look at this! You won't see anything like this even in a textbook!" Michael was a bit concerned that perhaps the third chapter of his dissertation went with that nerve.... In the end, Michael has been handling the whole thing like a champ. He is just now starting to feel normal again (of course, he had a period of normalcy after the pre-Christmas extraction...) I still have my wisdom teeth. How 'bout you? I would love to hear some funny wisdom teeth stories....
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• Ezra has quite nearly legally changed his name to Batman. He corrects everyone who calls him Ezra and even insists that the new name be put on coloring pages or craft projects he does at the Children's Center or at church. In his prayers, he thanked God for the bat cave tonight.
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• I mentioned church. We think we may have found a place that we might like. Of course, we've only been twice (Michael only once because he was recovering from his extraction...) I know that doesn't sound like a lot of time but sometimes, you just know. The church is literally two blocks from our home (a very reasonable and delightful walk) and is called Sojourn. It seems a bit like our Crossroads experience in Cincinnati. They have a main campus in Louisville and satellite campuses in other neighborhoods, New Albany being one of them. They just opened the doors of their recently purchased former elementary school in October. The music is amazing and the teaching is AWESOME! On a different note (for us) they take communion every week. We will be participating in a membership class on Friday evening and Saturday. Looking forward to getting the low-down on the place. Really hoping we don't show up and they tell us we have to fork over our first-born son or something...that would definitely be a deal-breaker...
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• I am teaching a lot more in this new year. Pretty sure I mentioned this before...sorry...but, it's my blog. I'm teaching seven classes every week, every day but Saturday. (I teach two on Wednesday.) So far, so good. Three of the classes are for kids so the cardio workout is not as intense (for me) as the grown-up classes. Yes. I am teaching fitness classes for kids, namely Zumbatomic. This is Zumba for kids and lots of fun. I teach groups of 4-7 year olds and groups of 8 to 12 year olds and I teach the classes back to back. Let me tell you, it is not easy switching out of the head space of a teacher to 4-7 year olds to a teacher of 8-12 year olds. The little ones laugh at everything I say and are not self-conscious about anything. The exact opposite is the case for my bigger ones. For instance, in both classes, we'll play a game called Freeze Dance. The title pretty much says it all but after every freeze, I give them a direction for a new (silly) way to dance (ie. you can only dance with your arms and hands!) Well, for the little ones, I often will tell them to pretend to be their favourite animals. I accidentally asked the bigger ones to do that tonight...totally not cool. Lol! The little ones really crack me up. Each class is only 30 minutes long. After ten minutes, the little ones are asking for drinks of water and if they can just sit down for the rest of class. (Trust me, this is stuff they can handle easily...they're not doing push-ups or anything....) Also, when one child has to go to the bathroom, of course, everyone else wants to go. This is nothing new but it just cracks me up. Either way, I have a lot of fun with them. I think mostly because they will always try something (unless they're extremely shy...which, of course, happens and is fine.) I just like that kids don't mind looking silly. They just have fun. On another note, I really love the Zumbatomic idea in general. If a person comes into a Zumba class having never done it before, it can be an overwhelming experience. You just dance. There is no break-down of steps or explanations or anything. Zumba does call itself an easy to follow Latin dance inspired class and, for the most part (and depending on the instructor), that is true. I will usually show up 10 to 15 minutes early for class and run through some trickier steps but that's it. The cool thing about Zumbatomic is that the kids are getting in this at the ground level. We break things down in Zumbatomic and even talk about the different Latin rhythms that are used in Zumba classes. Each rhythm has many different dance steps and we break down all of those steps for the kids. I've had so many adults ask if there was a similar class for them which has made me wonder if it might be a good idea to have an Intro. to Zumba class once a month -- a class where we go over all the rhythms and steps. I could be onto something here...
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• I busted up the second fight in less than six months on our street yesterday...and by bust up I simply mean I called the police from our porch after yelling a warning to the brawlers that I would be doing so. One would think this would stop the behavior. It doesn't. We live right next to New Albany High School. The first fight was between two mothers who were waiting to pick up their children. I yelled repeatedly that I was calling the cops (the 14-year old son of one of the mothers asked me to please do so), that they were on their way, etc. The cops pulled up and the brawling didn't stop. Insane. Apparently, Mother A's daughter was being bullied by Mother B's daughter. Mother A had told her daughter to talk to the principal about the problem. Apparently she hadn't. "I guess she's learned her lesson," Mother A shouted across the street at me and the police officer, cigarette dangling between her fingers. "Guess she should've gone and talked with the principal!" Oh! That's what went wrong there....wow... The fight that broke out yesterday seemed to be scheduled. Girl A pulls up in front of the house across the street in a blue Jeep, hops out, takes her sweatshirt off and stands in the street calling for her most worthy opponent. Girl B's entourage/family is on the front lawn cheering, hootin' and hollerin' until she comes out of the house herself. She runs down into the street and they both begin to bloody each other...literally. Rolling around on the ground, bludgeoning each other with their fists and I saw the whole thing get started from my kitchen window. I was horrified! I ran onto the porch, yelled my cop-call warning and dialed away. Yeah, I'm that porch lady. Unfortunately, they all pulled away right before the cops showed up (of course) but not before I got the license plate from their vehicle. C'mon! I feel like I've moved to the wild west. I LOVE the fact that I lived in the "ghetto" in Cincinnati for 5 years (my poor parents were terrified for us) and the only incident we ever had was a bunch of kids talking trash in the street to each other. Gotta love the small-town charm of southern Indiana....
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• So, this is getting pretty long. Maybe I will have to make an individual post for each of the above bullets. This will be the last one. Michael and I were talking last night about kids getting too cool for their parents -- you know, not wanting them to be around when their friends are around, etc. We both admitted that we never really had that experience growing up. I actually remember feeling bad for a lot of my friends' parents. For the most part, we thought our parents were fun to hang around with -- even with our friends! I made mention of the fact, though, that I only got too cool to be around my parents when I became a senior in high school and I got a boyfriend (my first real one) and I didn't want them to catch us making out. So, in my mind, being too cool for your parents means you have something you want to hide from them. Any thoughts? I'm sure this is a simplistic view on the matter but, then again, maybe not. Did you like to hang out with your 'rents (as this generation calls them?) Were Michael and I just major nerds? (Ok...maybe don't answer that last question...)
  

A Smart Phone

The title is not a clever play on words. No, it is a simple statement of an object...one I now own. Yes, I have finally joined most of my peers (and seniors and juniors) and obtained a smart phone. This little phone could easily become an addiction for me. This came as a surprise to me (and maybe to some of you, if you know anything about me) because I have never been the gal who needs to have the latest and greatest phone. If I'm due for an upgrade on my plan, I always opt for the free phone and up to this point, the free options have not been fancy-dancy smart phone options. I'm cool with that, though. We are a family on a tight budget and buying a smart phone has not really been an option. How did I come by this phone, then? you may ask. Well, any fancy-dancy phone I've ever had (relative to the culture) has been given to me by my mother. She usually gives me them because she has just purchased the latest and greatest version. Works out well for someone like myself with low cellular expectations. This is the case with my new-to-me phone -- the Samsung Intercept. My sister came to visit me this past weekend (we had a FABULOUS time, by the way, as is ALWAYS the case...) and my mother sent it with her. I only just had the opportunity to go have it set up as my phone yesterday in a Sprint store. I have used the term "smart phone" up to this point. Here is Mandi's definition of a smart phone:

1. It has a touch screen that twirls when you turn the phone.
2. You can access your email, Facebook, YouTube and the internet in general on it.
3. You can get apps for it.

Mine is an Android phone....which probably means more to some of you at this point than it does to me...but I'll get there. I am most certainly aware that there is more to a smart phone than the above, hence the name, but I am determined to become smarter than my smart phone. The question is, how do I do that? Well, the users guide would probably be the best place to start (downloading it as we speak) but, I also imagine that I can gain some good ground simply by spending some good ol' fashioned quality time with it. This is a problem. I am a mother with a part-time job outside the home and pretty darn busy (most of us are.) This is where things are going to start getting transparently and brutally honest (as in, you may not want to be my friend anymore once I share with you the thoughts that have not only run through my head, recently, but have been seriously entertained.) Most of you know there is always something to be done, especially for a neat freak like myself -- always a load of laundry that needs to be folded and put away, always a dishwasher that needs to be emptied and refilled (particularly if you have a camper-sized one as is our case...), always a child that needs to be fed, bathed, disciplined, played with, read to, engaged, always groceries to buy...the list goes on and on and on. Because of this, I rarely, if ever, find myself sitting down during the daytime hours to just do something fun. All my fun-time stuff (ie. crocheting, blogging, movie-watching) is done after Ezra is in bed. This is the deal I have made with myself. I am allowed to sit down and take it easy after 8:30 at night. Some of you may think I have a problem while others of you may be saying, "What's wrong with that?" For me, right now, this pattern is cool. What's not cool, though, is the guilt that I feel when I do decide to do something fun just for Mandi in the middle of a day. It's at this point when visions of field-workers toiling under a hot sun or factory workers standing at a machine-press performing the same mindless task over and over a million times in a dimly lit factory or nurses in OB units working the graveyard shift or customer service specialists surrounded by the gray walls of cubicles in a windowless office talking with irate customers for 10 hours a day start popping into my head. It's the thought of those people that keeps me going when I normally decide to sit and have a moment for myself. This phone, though, has thrown a wrench into that whole line of thinking. Confession time: I spent nearly two hours laying in my bed today playing--I MEAN trying to figure out how my new phone works! TWO HOURS! Now, lest you begin to fear and tremble, I had just finished cleaning our entire home in the morning top to bottom -- floors, toilets, dusting, everything, laundry -- had fed Ezra and during my phone time, he was occupied with toys of his own in his room while listening to Paddington Bear on his CD player. Well, that's not so bad, you may be saying to yourself. Well, my confessing isn't over with....here are some secret and not so secret thoughts and actions I have had or done:

• Yes! I'm driving alone to the Clark county YMCA (this one is the further of the two YMCA's that I work at...about a 15 to 20 minute drive) to teach a Zumba class. I can play with my phone while driving out there! Gasp!
• When can I play with my phone next....?
• What's something I could do with my phone now....?
• Ezra: Hey, Mom! Watch this! Me (while playing with my phone): Uh huh....
• (Upon hearing any small sound) Was that my phone?!
• Just sitting and moving things around on the screen
• Sleeping with it

While these are not exaggerations, I am happy to say that they are not patterns of behavior yet, just big-time red flags! The first step out of addiction is recognizing and naming a problem for what it is, right? So, I've already fought the hardest battle....I believe it's safe to say that the smartness of a smart phone lies not in its ability to manage your life down to the tiniest of details, but to make you dependent on it--to suck you into yourself and then spit you and your dull vacant expression back out onto a playground in the glaring sun with your child or a lunch date with a senior citizen.... So, back to my earlier question...how do I become smarter than my smart phone? Oh, I can figure out how best to use it, how to get the most out of it but I will totally dominate it by not becoming a slave to it or treating it like my precious....by not getting sucked into myself....

P.S. the app Out of Milk is fantastic! right up this list-makers alley....

Just Bourne

SO.....although our new schedule calls for independent writing time tonight, we're watching The Bourne Supremacy instead. Now, before you despair over our lack of discipline, just know that Michael received the Bourne trilogy as a gift from my brother and we have been planning to watch all three, three nights in a row...we will resume our regular schedule on Thursday....not that we're slaves to it....

My Budding Storyteller

I cannot tell you how much joy this gives me...I promise, we do not sit down and practice this stuff....Ezra broke out in the following after breakfast this morning:

The "Fun" Schedule

Wow! This is my 201st post! Just realized that...pretty cool...and before I get into it, I need to thank everyone who responded to my last post with words of encouragement and stories of their own. You were very affirming to me and I appreciate, very much, your feedback.

So, Michael and I have resolved in this new year to be more intentional about the ways in which we spend our evening time (ie. the time after which Ezra is in bed which is usually by 8:30 at the latest.) Our pattern in the past has been one that we picked up while in Germany and it has been as follows:

Get Ezra in bed, Mandi sits in green recliner, Michael lounges on brown couch, watch 2 more episodes of whatever show we've decided to follow on Netflix, go to bed.

There are advantages to this plan. They are as follows:

We are together.
We are relaxing.
We watch some pretty cool shows.

There are also some disadvantages. They are as follows:

We don't talk a whole heck of a lot except when we pause our show to discuss a particular choice made by the director or costume designer or screenwriter.
We aren't doing other things we enjoy doing as well (ie. playing games, writing, singing, painting.) We find ourselves talking about these things we like to do a whole lot during the day but autopilot seems to be "day is done, turn on tv."

So, our new plan is a bit of a compromise. We typically spend at least two hours together, child-free every night. We have decided to take the first hour and pursue another fun past-time and then in the second hour, we get to watch one episode of our current show. For example, last night we played games for the first hour (Michael is becoming a Yahtzee junky) then watched our show. Fun times all around. We've actually found that we had to intentionally schedule in these pursuits. So, here it is:

Monday: Michael/Mandi game night
Tuesday: Michael and Mandi write individually
Wednesday: Michael paints and Mandi may be involved in that somehow...
Thursday: Michael and Mandi free write together (I really enjoy this one...)
Friday: Music night (Michael's been wanting to learn guitar, I've been wanting to better myself on the bass, we also like to sing old hymns together)
Saturday: Family game night

I'm super excited about all of these things! Super excited that I like to spend time with my hubster and that we get to spend time together.

So...I'm writing...'cause that's what I get to do tonight. That's not to say that it won't happen at other times, but it's nice to know that this time is always dedicated to it.

That's what is currently going on in the Hutchins household. But what about Christmas? Yes, we did celebrate it, as is our wont. We were able to spend two weeks traveling and visiting family. We spent week one and the actual Christmas holiday with my family in Three Rivers, Michigan and week two, which included a New Year's Eve celebration, with Michael's family in Wauseon, Ohio. As usual, Ezra was very blessed with a multitude of gifts. Our families are very generous. Every year Michael and I have the same discussion, though, about trying to raise a child who doesn't open a gift and say, "Where are my other presents?" Of course, our child would NEVER say this....(I'm really hoping you sense my sarcasm there...) What is polite at Christmas? We find ourselves trying to squash his sense of expectation. After all, we don't want a child who expects the people who love him to bless him.....hmmm....this is something I've been wrestling with. Christmas, as us Christians celebrate it, is the fulfillment of one of the biggest hopes and expectations of all time -- the birth of our savior! Is it wrong to hope? Even if that hope is in the earthly loved ones that we share our lives with? I know, I know...this sounds like a gross misuse of theology to excuse my son's bad manners...that's not what I'm trying to do...I am, however, trying to examine my own life to see what this means for me and how I relate to God. Do I hope for things from him? Do I think it's wrong to? And, you know, sometimes I think I do feel it's wrong...and that's kind of weird....since I want Ezra to be able to hope for blessings from me...now I'm equating myself with God...danger...warning....anyway....just something I've been thinking about and having a difficult time parsing out here...obviously...

One specific shout-out on the gift-giving front this year: pretty sure my sister, Haley, wins the award for most thoughtful gift given. We draw names in our family and she drew mine. For my gift, she took the time to print out ALL of my blog posts from our year in Germany and put them in individual plastic sheets in a binder for me as a book! I can't remember the last time I cried when I opened a gift...actually...I'm not sure if I've ever cried over a gift before...but...I definitely cried when I opened that. Ever since we got back from Germany, I have said that I would like to do that but, of course, I've never found the time. I love you, Haley! You are the best sister a girl could ask for! She and Hogey (her husband) also gave Ezra a pretty sweet gift this year -- some dress-up clothes which include a handmade (by Hogey's mom) Sherlock Holmes outfit complete with fake pipe and real magnifying glass and a wildlife explorer vest with binoculars and a compass! Just amazing!

In other, less soulish issues, the weather in New Albany, Indiana has been insane! We're talking a high of 60 today! Far be it from us, though, to ignore such eccentric weather patterns. Can't remember the last time I went to the park in January and we went twice this week! Today at the park, I spread out on my back on an unused see-saw and just soaked up the vitamin D. I felt like a cat in the sunny spot. Of course, the forecast calls for snow this weekend but, that's all right. We like snow too.

Continuing with the present, I am working more in this new year than I did in the last. Last year I taught two classes a week at the local YMCAs. This year I will teach 6 and another one at Indiana University Southeast! Four of the classes are straight Zumba classes and the other three are Zumbatomic -- Zumba for kids ages 4 to 12! I recently became certified to teach this format and, so far, I LOVE teaching these classes. The kids are so fun! Thankful for the ease of this extra income. I really could not have a more perfect job as a mostly stay-at-home mom. If Michael is unable to look after Ezra during any of my classes, he can just come with me and go to the Y's child watch. At IUS, he can go to the Children's Center! Also, I'm getting paid to work out! Blessings all 'round.

And my time's up! This has been a bit of a slapdash post...I think it's just been such a long time that I'm a bit giddy (some may say, incoherent) but, according to my schedule, it's time to go watch our show...

Memoir of a Miscarriage

I am giving you fair warning. This is a long post and it may be more about our lives than you're interested in reading but I needed to write about this very difficult experience. So, read on at your own risk or just skip it altogether.

Thursday, 27 October 2011

It started off as a normal day. I was taking Ezra and Michael to IUS -- dropping Michael off for work and taking Ezra to the Children's Center. Ezra had a doctor's appointment scheduled for the afternoon that he was not looking forward to because he had to get his flu shot booster. He was telling us as much on the way. "Well, I have a doctor's appointment today too," I said. "I'm meeting my doctor who will be taking care of me while I'm pregnant...he's the one who will catch the baby when it comes out!"

"Will the baby be covered in poop?" Ezra chuckled.

"No, but it will be slimy!" I replied.

"What?!"

"Yup! The nurses will clean it off and put a diaper on it and then wrap it in a blanket. Then they will hand the baby to me to hold," I explained with a smile.

"I will hold the baby to...," Ezra grinned.

***

An hour later I sat waiting for the doctor to come in the exam room. As I waited, I read an entire article about Ellen DeGeneres in Good Housekeeping. After I finished, I had time to consider the upcoming exchange. Ok...hold your ground. Don't let them push you around about how you're going to give birth. Don't take any crap. Let him know that you are not a gal to be tangled with...where is he for crying out loud?....I hope I will still have time to make it to my body pump class after this...

Finally he came in....with a resident. He introduced himself and the resident. We chatted for a bit...family, jobs, moving history, Ezra history, other small talk in general. "Well, let's try to get a listen to baby's heartbeat!" he said.

I laid back and lifted my shirt...a maternity one that I felt a little silly for wearing but I had started showing a bit (even though I was only 11 weeks along....things started showing with Ezra around the same time...) and didn't quite have the cute bump thing going on yet...really just something to cover up the bloaty looking stomach that leaves most people you encounter struggling to figure out if you're pregnant or just a little thick around the middle...The resident placed her doppler thing on my belly. She had some issues and after a few tries that included some embarrassed giggles and nervous glances at the doctor, handed things over to him. "He'll probably find it right away," she said, self-deprecatingly. However, he also had some issues. They decided to go inside to push up my uterus to see if that might help things. "Have you had any spotting during this pregnancy?" he asked, as nonchalantly as possible.

"No..."

"Hmmm... 'cause you are right now..."

Still no heartbeat. They withdrew and stated that we should do an ultrasound.

As I sat up, I pulled my shirt down and asked, "Are you concerned?" even though I already knew what his response would be.

"A little...we'll get you in ultrasound and if the pregnancy is viable, we'll go from there..." I immediately noticed the shift in semantics. Moments earlier we had been talking about "baby's heartbeat" and now we were talking about "viable pregnancies".

Fifteen minutes later I was in ultrasound. I could tell not only from the image but from the restrained look on the tech's face that things weren't good. No heartbeat, no movement..."I'd feel better if I went inside for a look...," she said. No heartbeat, no movement... "The baby's measuring at about 7.5 weeks...I'm so sorry..."

***

Twenty minutes later I was sitting in the car in the parking lot in shock. How could a day start out so deceptively normal? There was no doubt in my mind that I was pregnant. I had been tired to the point of requiring daily naps, I felt like I was busting painfully out of all my pants, I was cracking eggs directly into the sink absentmindedly, and breaking out like a 13-year old! But then I realized...that wasn't really happening anymore...and then I remembered...a very specific memory from about a week earlier. I had been in the bathroom and realized that I hadn't been feeling this way..."I don't feel pregnant anymore," I reflexively thought and instantly felt guilty for having such a thought. "Oh, you're probably just coming out of that first trimester junk," I reasoned...

Within the next hour and a half, I had spoken with nearly every one of my family members but Ezra. The crying and explaining wore me out. I had to get myself together in order to go pick up Ezra from the Children's Center and Michael from work.

I walked into the Children's Center. "Ezra your Mommy's here," his teacher called to him. I just found out my baby died! was what I wanted to scream. Instead I did what I was supposed to do...I plastered on the smile, thanked them, and wished them all a lovely afternoon. Ezra and I headed to the car. "Did you have fun? What did you make?" He still believes it's a perfectly normal day...

We got ourselves into the car and headed over to Michael's building. Of course, he knew but because Ezra didn't our ride home was awkward at best.

When we got home Michael took Ezra inside to feed him lunch. I sat in the car and spoke on the phone with the one other person I had not yet spoken with, my mother-in-law, Nancy. She has experienced multiple miscarriages and I was desperately seeking advice as to how we should talk to Ezra about this whole thing...or if we should at all... He had been talking about the baby and asking more questions recently unsolicited. For the moment, though, we thought we would just wait to see when he mentioned the baby again and then tell him that it would just be a little longer than we thought until the baby got here. For some reason, we deluded ourselves into believing that he wouldn't mention the baby again for a while....

***

Ezra still had to go to the doctor...we had to go even though Michael and I had not had a chance to sit and talk with each other at all.

Naturally there were tiny babies at the pediatrician's office...people who wanted to make small talk in the waiting room...Ezra to try to distract from his intense fear of the shot...I had to keep it together....no one in that office ever had any idea of the information I had just received...How many people do I encounter like this on a daily basis? I thought....Someone who just found out her father died, a man who just found out he will die within the year, a woman who just found out that she will never be able to have children....the possibilities are endless....

Ezra made it through his shot (however, there was quite a bit of melodramatic limping that took place the rest of the day...) We went home where I set him up to watch Peter Pan. Michael and I finally had a moment alone. We cried and prayed. I had a chance to run my hair-brained scheme for interacting with Ezra on the matter by him....he agreed it was a good plan...equally deluded...

***

Bedtime rolled around. We always sing a song and on this particular night, we chose the chorus of Count Your Blessings. "I want to name my blessings!" Ezra blurted out.

"OK!"

"You and Daddy and the baby...." he went on but I hadn't heard anymore after "baby". For some reason, the pain in my chest took me by surprise.

"Ok...let's talk to God..." I said.

"God, thank you for Mommy and Daddy and the baby," Ezra gushed. It was uncanny. Honestly, he had not mentioned the baby this many times together. He had never seemed so aware as he did at that moment. I instantly knew that we had to scrap our original plan. I could not handle letting him go on thinking there would be a baby when there wouldn't. It wasn't fair to him and it was very painful for me to go on with the pretense.

***

The next morning, I woke up and got on the worldwide web....surely it could tell me what to do...right? Sure enough, I Googled "talking to your preschooler about miscarriage" and wouldn't you know that all kinds of interesting stuff came up. Of course, I had to be discerning...all kinds of crazies get on the worldwide web and even if you don't agree with the things they spout off, all it takes is planting a seed and something can nag at you (ie. "Are you sure you miscarried? Maybe you're still pregnant...") Most of what I found was encouraging me to tell Ezra and that it was a good plan. I spoke with Michael about it who, it turns out, was having similar concerns. I wanted to do it that morning because we were getting ready to leave that afternoon to go to Michigan to see my parents and siblings. Michael wasn't going with us and, naturally, I wanted him to be a part of the conversation. I also felt we needed to tell Ezra before we departed because I didn't want him babbling on, blissfully ignorant, among our informed and heartbroken family. Also, he was so excited about the trip to see DRams and Poppio that, quite frankly, I thought that happiness may help to temper his sorrow.

"We have something we want to talk with you about," I began at the breakfast table. "You know the baby in my belly...?"

"Yeah," Ezra responded casually, munching his toast.

"Well, it was very sick...so sick that it couldn't live...and God decided to take the baby to live with Him..."

He immediately burst into tears (admittedly a much stronger response than I had anticipated) and reached for me. "That's not fair!" he sobbed.

"I know..." I sobbed in return. I held him as he continued to cry. They were cries of severe disappointment and anger. After a while, I went on. "God knew, though, that the baby wouldn't live...He may even have known that the baby could have made Mommy very sick..."

"We will be trying to have another baby, though," Michael said. "We think you would make a great big brother!"

We sat in silence, except for our sobbing.

Then, for some reason, the following came out of me. "You know, Ezra, there are women in this world who can never have children because their bodies won't let them."

He responded with a gasp. "What?!"

"Yes...you know, they see you with me and they think, 'Man...she is so lucky....I wish I could have a boy of my own like that...' They are very sad because they never will be able to...but we have you! We are so blessed to have you. You are one of our biggest blessings!"

"I'm a blessing?" he laughed through his tears.

"Absolutely!"

***

Most of what I read said that small children take things in stride. We made our trip and as the week went on, Ezra did not mention the baby once. Several explanations came to my mind. 1.) He's so distracted by the fun he's having here with DRams and Poppio and his cousin, Emma Jane, that he's just not thinking about it...true to a child's form, he is just living in the moment. 2.) He's got some sort of children's sixth sense that he shouldn't mention it for fear of making me sad. One of my biggest concerns when we told him was that afterward he would feel that the topic was taboo. I really wanted him to know that he could talk with us about the whole thing whenever he wanted without fear of causing us to be consumed by grief. I had actually read and interacted with folks who said they had these exact feelings (both children and parents) and because of that, it was never talked about. It's a natural way to interact with the whole thing. We don't want to cause our loved ones unnecessary pain, so, of course, we just don't mention it.

Motivated by my strong desire to have that not be the case in our situation, I broached the topic, cautiously, with Ezra as we were preparing to say our prayers at bedtime. "So...is there anything you want to talk with God about tonight (we always start off this way but then I added).....anything you're happy or sad or excited or angry about?" Yes...I was fishing... He instantly burst into tears and my mind instantly started racing as I drew my sobbing boy into my arms. "What's wrong, honey?" I said as the tears started welling up in my eyes.

"Remember that toy golf set that I had when we lived in Cincinnati that was broken and you threw away?" he sobbed. "I really want another one!" he wailed.

Relief instantly washed over me...surprise as well, since this was the first time he had mentioned this particular toy since we had thrown it away in April! Of course, I wanted to laugh, but he was very serious. I talked him down, relieved to know that he hadn't been suppressing any grief.

A couple weeks passed and Ezra asked, again, if we would be staying in the home that we are currently living in. (We had this conversation before this horrible thing took place. In that conversation, I told him that even if we ended up staying in New Albany, we would probably move to a different home that was a bit bigger so the baby could have its own room. At that point, he informed me that he would be happy to share his room with the baby (poor boy, really is just about as tired of moving around as I am...)) On this particular occasion, I told him we would move because we will probably buy a place if we stay. He made his usual argument about sharing his room. I was taken aback since he hadn't mentioned it in a while. "Do you remember about the baby?" I tentatively asked him.

"Yeah," he said. I could tell from his tone that he understood his mistake.

"What do you remember?" I asked, just to be sure.

"That it died," he said sadly...but he didn't burst into tears. This gave me confidence to make a habit of finding moments to talk about the whole thing in a healthy way.

One intentional thing I did was to get a Christmas ornament for our tree that memorialized the baby. I got out the ornament as we decorated the tree and told Ezra what it was. "Every year, when we hang the ornament on our tree, we will remember the baby," I told him. "Does that sound like a good plan?" I asked him.

"Uh huh," he responded, solemnly.

More conversations have happened and I am thankful to say that the whole thing is not taboo.

***

Remember the worldwide web mentioned that children tend to take these things in stride...didn't say anything about grown-ups. Some of the thoughts I am about to reveal may sound completely ludicrous but they are thoughts I had nonetheless.

Thinking back, I remember the first question I asked the doctor as soon as I found out. "How soon can we start trying again?" Yes, we still want to have another one, but I was surprised that I wanted to know because there was a fear deep in me that maybe I was broken. I wanted to get pregnant as soon as possible more as a way to prove to myself (and others!) that I wasn't. That I could still do it if I wanted to. I realized not long after having lots of conversations with women who have miscarried that this must be the case particularly if a woman miscarries her first pregnancy. I can't even imagine the fear that must try to take hold of her. At least I know that I worked once!

While spending time with my family immediately after finding out, I was surprised to find myself concerned about how others thought I was handling this grief. My sister and I snapped silly photos of ourselves as we made Halloween treats in my mother's kitchen. She, of course, immediately sent them to her Facebook page. What if people who know see those photos? I thought. They may think this whole miscarriage thing is not big deal to me. Yes...I know it sounds ridiculous, but, there you have it. I found myself trying to find ways in conversations to let people know that they didn't have to handle me with kid gloves. After all, I've been that person before. I know exactly what she's thinking! I had to have the right combination of reserve, solemnity, and normalcy to set the person at ease. It was mentally and emotionally very tiring.

Currently, I am finding that Michael and I are, for the most part, doing pretty well. I have heard it said that grace is a gift but I have never really fully understood that until I had this experience. There are moments when the only way I can explain how we are able to handle things is God's grace but, I would be lying if I said that there are not moments of INTENSE grief...and it always takes me by surprise. Before I got pregnant, there were several toys in Ezra's room that I had been telling myself I needed to put in storage since they were just too young for him and his interest in them showed that. Then I got pregnant and the procrastinator in me rejoiced! "Well, you might as well keep them out," she said. "Nine months will go very quickly and you'll just have to get them out again." Fast forward a month after the miscarriage where you will see me standing on the ladder leading up to our attic. Michael hands the Playskool farm up to me. I freeze, the top half of my body in the attic, the bottom half in the hallway. Violent sobs begin to shake my body...intense grief. It's like finding out I had miscarried all over again. At the very least, a very concrete act casually admitting the reality of it all. Michael holds me as I silently sob and snot all over his shirt. Ezra, blissfully ignorant of the whole scene, is just around the corner laughing as he watches a favourite television program.

I see a woman on a television program who is pregnant go into a hospital and have her baby. I'm fine but, as she sits in the hospital bed, with the swaddled baby in her arms, talking casually with her husband, I see it's little hand poke out and that is what sends me from zero to one hundred in less than a split second. Michael pauses what we were watching and comes to me.

Michael sleeps soundly next to me in bed as I read the memoir of a teenage mom by the low light of our Kindle. She begins to talk about the birth of her second child. She's the mother of two now, she explains. No longer the mother of one, which, in her mind, is more of a fluke than anything. Grief and the fear that others don't see me as a "real" mom because I only have one child take over and the tears pour out silently as Michael sleeps on.

I have never experienced grief that intense before. Physically, it feels as though someone has punched me in the chest. I lose my breath. The only other time my emotions have had such a physical impact on my body was when I was falling in love with Michael. It must have something to do with intense emotions since I felt the same way when he would kiss me in those formative months of our relationship. Thankfully, the grief goes just as quickly as it comes and I am able to move on. I've found the things that trigger it are the things I had started to hopefully anticipate.

It seems God always uses any harrowing experience to teach us things about ourselves. Naturally, that has been true in this case. I will not be consumed because I am His child and I find great relief and peace in that. I also find relief in knowing that He knows what's going on. He wants us to be as little children, being anxious for nothing. I'm certainly a champ at being anxious for all kinds of things. He has clearly reminded me that I don't have to struggle under a heavy burden, though, because He did it already. I've learned more and more to live in the moment. I've found myself approaching each day and moment with the following question, "What do I know for sure right at this moment?" Turns out, it's not a whole lot. Nine times out of ten are spent worrying about what could happen. Finding the grace to let go of those nine times, when it happens, is very freeing. I also found out that I am really interested in finding out what other wise, trusted people in my life think about certain situations that I'm going through. In general, I do believe this is a healthy practice since I believe God uses his people to speak truth into our lives. I have found, though, that sometimes those folks don't agree which just sends me into a tailspin. I have come to realize that, yes, God does use his people, but He doesn't limit Himself to them (thankfully!) I have been challenged to listen for his voice speaking to me directly (admittedly something I've not been so great at in the past since I don't always trust myself.) This has been pretty cool because, it turns out, God uses songs in many instances to speak to me. And, oddly enough, they're usually old hymns that are resurfacing from my hymn-filled past. We're talking about songs I haven't heard or even thought about for 20 years! It's been wonderful!

I know I will continue to be surprised by the moments of grief but I am thankful to be at the point where I am able to say, "God is good all the time."