Archive for the ‘Parenting Experiences’ Category
Thursday, February 21st, 2008 |
“Mommy, I want some chocolate milk.” Stormy then bellowed from the family room.
“Sure thing.” I said as I got up from the computer chair and walked into the kitchen. Opening the door to the fridge, noticing that chocolate milk was something of a memory. “Shoot.” I mumbled as I went in to explain to the little monsters that there was to be no more chocolate milk. Four smiling faces were waiting there. Staring up from their movie. Looking at me with hope in their eyes.
“We are all out of chocolate milk” I calmly said.
“No…. I want chocolate milk!” they all screamed. Their faces turning from angelic to demonic within seconds.
“Okay.. I will go to the store.”
“I want chocolate milk now.” the five year old bellowed.
“We are gonna die of being thirsty.” The angry mob chanted.
“Mommy is getting dressed right now. I just have to put on some clothes and makeup.”
Now, trying to reason with a five, four, three and two year old is just not gonna work. They do not know reason. They are so self-centered it is funny. I moved as quickly as I could. Trying my best to get dressed without making them even more angry. The twelve year old trying to put the two year olds little shoes on. “Mom.. Isaiah kicked me.”
“He is two.. It could not have hurt you.” I said.. Hoping he would be shamed into silence.
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Posted in Life Experiences, Parenting Experiences | No Comments »
Friday, February 15th, 2008 |
It was in 1996 when I first experienced the excruciating pain. I was almot 5 months pregnant to my third baby (the second was a miscarriage). I was brought to the hospital, ultra sound performed, but they found nothing, they said, and maybe it was just some gas pain because I just ate 4 eggs (balot, Philippine delicacy from duck eggs). The pain subsided anyway and we teased that each egg was worth P200 when it was really P3. The price hike was due to the hospital bill our pockets were damaged with.
A month later I was back to the hospital with an even more painful stomach. It was soooo painful. I was throwing up my bile, green and bitter. I had another ultra sound. That time they saw 2 ovarian cycsts at my left. The doctor said it is possible that it can get smaller and that she can remove it at the time I deliver my baby. At times, others experienced having the cyst come out with the delivery. We were ready to check out.
While waiting for the last visit of the doctor in preparation for checking out, I had a more painful stomach. The interval between pains were getting short too…it was like I was in labor, getting ready to deliver…but I was just 5 1/2 months pregnant. The pain was soooooo terrible. more than the labor pain. The doctor said my baby was distressed.
I had to be operated on. We have been briefed. We have to choose. My life or the baby’s. Of course my life was the choice. We were ready. We have put everything in God’s will. There was nothing we can do.
I was given a general anesthesia. I still can imagine the prick of the needle at my back. Little by little I got sleepy and numb. Before I lost consciousness I even said a little prayer, “God bless you…” referring to the works of the doctor’s hands.
When I woke up I was in my room. I was greeted by my husband but said I still should not talk and that I have to rest. With weak body and arms, I felt my stomach and asked him, how’s the baby? He said, “it’s there.” That was the sweetest words I’ve heard that day. Tears welled my eyes as I mentally prayed for thanks.
Hours later when the doctor made her rounds and I was awake, she explained what happened. What they thought as 2 cysts was actually 1 big lump that twisted, which later ruptured. That night I was like in labor pains was the time the cyst ruptured. (While I was on the table and got all the cyst parts, it filled the small kidney basin which she brought out to show my husband.) She said, my case was rare. For most cases, the mother and baby died, or the baby died and mother survived. In my case, they were able to set aside the uterus with the fetus inside, remove the left ovary and the rest of the ruptured cyst, put back the ovary in place and stiched me back up. What’s more miraculous was, the ruptured cyst remained in one place when it could have scattered and poisoned my body. Since it stayed in one place, she was able to get everything out.
In February 18, 1997 I had a NORMAL delivery to a baby girl. Her name is Myrrh Raquel. We call her Raqy (rocky), a survivor, God’s reminder that miracles do happen. She had several major miracles in her life, all having something to do with her health but she always survived.
Lesson? Always trust God. Anything can happen but with Him, there’s always a chance that miracles can happen than without Him.
Cecile Cinco
Posted in Female Experiences, Happy Experiences, Medical Experiences, Parenting Experiences | No Comments »
Monday, February 4th, 2008 |
Confession. (I would have never started this writing project, if it weren’t for my youngest daughter’s insistence. Since then, it has kind of grown and taken on a life of its own.)
Megan has asked about various versions her older siblings give of being raised in a picturesque rural mining town, high in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. As pristine as this setting would first seem, it had its own unique set of challenges. Guess I should have mentioned , it was a mining town. Six months after we moved there, the mine closed. Up until a week before the closing was announced, the local paper continued to run articles saying that information about the mine closing was only “rumor.” Instantly, the miners who could afford it, moved. Those with businesses in town, found it more difficult to pull up stakes.
Some who were crazy people, or those who didn’t know better–like myself and my husband, attempted to tough it out. The beauty of the state’s highest peaks at our door-step, clean crisp air, a variety of hunting, hiking, camping and fishing sites all proved to be a wonderful temptation that we were too weak-willed to resist.
Every paradise has its price. My husband and I had just bought property-several sites in town, including our house. With four small children our options were limited. We didn’t have enough money to move out. There was no market for selling property, either. When my husband and I met, in Los Angeles in the late 60’s we were even more broke than we were at this time. Although he liked to think of himself as an actor, most of his friends found gainful employment as stage-hands or “grips.” When we moved to Colorado, he kept in touch with his agent and various connections back in the L of A. As we became acquainted around town, we either volunteered–or were volunteered for various group activities.
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Posted in Funny Experiences, Parenting Experiences | No Comments »
Wednesday, January 30th, 2008 |
Thank you to K.S. for his submission. This thoughtful and heart-breaking submission of a parent’s love and what they must sometimes do to help their child has been chosen as the first winner in the “From My Experience” Contest. Another contest starts February 21, 2008, so please submit your experience and maybe you’ll be our next winner.
This is the true story of what I had to do to get my son the help he so desperately needed.
Let’s begin about 20 years ago. 1982 to be exact. My wife Valerie was pregnant with our first (and only) child. She was extremely concerned during the pregnancy, partially because my brother’s baby, who was born just 6 months earlier, was delivered with the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck, and her face was extremely bluish. There was grave concern at that time by everyone about the possibility of brain damage, but I can gladly report that my niece currently is a junior in college and is even the Editor of the school’s newspaper.
My wife took excellent care of herself during the entire pregnancy. She never smoked or drank alcohol to begin with, so these were never issues in the first place. She also avoided all medications. In fact, the only pill which crossed her lips during the entire 9 months was 1 Tylenol. Nevertheless, we still prayed each and every day up to and including the day of delivery that everything would be fine. I guess all expectant parents do that.
We took pre-natal classes, and I had remembered one session in particular, in which the instructor spoke of what is called the “APGAR* Score.”
*Activity (Muscle Tone)
Pulse
Grimace (Reflex)
Appearance (Skin Color)
Respiration
The APGAR is a 2 part evaluation of the baby. The evaluation is done twice, once immediately after birth and again just a few minutes later, and is supposedly a strong indicator as to the overall health of the newborn. The APGAR Score is based on the 5 factors listed above. Each of these factors is given a score of 0, 1, or 2, so the total score could range from 0-10. We were told during the pre-natal class that a score of 6 or higher for the first evaluation and 8 or higher for the second evaluation was usually a good sign of a healthy baby. With this in mind, the minute Kurt Junior entered the outside world I immediately focused on “6 & 8,” “6 & 8.” After a few minutes I asked one of the nurses what the APGAR Scores were. She seemed surprised by my asking, but her reply was music to my ears. “9-10,” she said, “can’t get much better than that.” At that moment, everything was right with the universe, and my world seemed totally secure.
Kurt seemed to be perfect. With a birth weight of 9 pounds, 10-1/2 ounces, he had a head start on most babies. He turned over, crawled and walked much earlier than expected. Everything seemed to be going along just fine.
It was somewhere around his first birthday that we started to think that things just weren’t quite right. It seemed that Kurt wasn’t listening to us, and he was making less and less sounds. Even if we said something like “Kurt, if you come here you can have some ice cream,” (which was his favorite) he failed to respond. Frightful that Kurt had a possible hearing loss, we scheduled a hearing test for him at Lenox Hill Hospital.
The hearing test was a disaster. Kurt would not sit still at all and wouldn’t even let the Audiologist put headphones on him. The most disturbing part, however, was that I could tell immediately from the Audiologist’s facial expressions that he thought there was some other problem. He told us after the aborted test that he didn’t think Kurt had a hearing problem, because although Kurt wouldn’t allow the test to be done he seemed to respond to all the sounds he had heard. He also recommended that we see a Neurologist, but refused to elaborate on a reason why.
When we finally got to see the Neurologist 1 week later, our world started to crumble. He diagnosed Kurt with Mental Retardation. Valerie and I were obviously devastated, but almost immediately turned our attention to getting Kurt whatever help he needed so he could lead as normal and productive a life as possible. After all, Valerie’s brother is Mentally Retarded (The politically correct term today is Developmentally Disabled) and he is living a full life, complete with a full time job as a messenger and a wife. Valerie and I decided to turn our pain, hurt and anger into action. As soon as we could, we got Kurt enrolled in a special education pre-school program, as well as an excellent recreation program on Saturdays.
As Kurt started getting older, however, his behavior changed drastically for the worse. He would become extremely agitated and angry, sometimes for no reason at all, other times if just 1 minor thing was changed. One example was the day we moved some furniture in the living room. When Kurt saw that the furniture was in a different place he got very upset and started to continually bang the table with his fists. When we took Kurt to a Specialist, he diagnosed Kurt with Autism, in addition to the Mental Retardation. The Autism explained why Kurt would get so upset over the slightest of changes.
As time passed, the aggressive behavior kept escalating. Kurt started throwing objects like chairs, and was becoming violent towards himself and us. He also began a pattern of only sleeping 2 or 3 hours a night, every night. Valerie and I actually had to take shifts sleeping because anything could happen when Kurt was awake. One minute he’d be laughing hysterically at nothing at all and the next do a complete 180 and start kicking and biting. It was around this time that a 3rd diagnosis was added to the mix. In addition to everything else, we were now told that Kurt was also Manic-Depressive, or Bi-Polar. This would explain Kurt’s rapid mood swings. The Doctor started Kurt on the medications Elavil and Lithium, and although he was only 6 at the time, when the smaller doses did not seem to have any effect, they were raised to 300mg of Elavil and 400mg of Mellaril. Even at these high doses, we saw not one change in Kurt. The behaviors were exactly the same, and he was still sleeping only 2 to 3 hours every night. The doctor then, over the course of many months, proceeded to try another 6 or so different medications, such as Ritalin and Tegretol, each also having no positive effects at all.
When Kurt was about 7, Valerie and I made the painstaking decision that the best thing we could do for Kurt was to find him a good Group Home, one where he could be monitored much more closely than it was humanly possible for just Valerie and I to, because the ever increasing violence he was exhibiting was becoming far too dangerous for us to handle alone.
We obtained a list of approximately 20 Group Homes and contacted them all. Over the course of the next two years only 6 of them ever responded that they even might have an opening. We visited all 6 of them, some hundreds of miles away and in different states, but not a single one would accept him. The answer we got was usually along the lines of one of these two statements: “Kurt is just too violent and aggressive for our program,” or “We just don’t have the adequate staff to meet Kurt’s special needs.” I would ask these programs if they knew of any others that might accept Kurt, since he was a child who definitely needed a Group Home setting, more so than just about anyone else, but they could not help me.
One visit to a potential Group Home stood out in my mind. This particular Group Home was upstate, about 300 miles away from our house. Needless to say, by the time we got there Kurt was extremely agitated, and proceeded to slap the face of the person interviewing us. So it ended up taking about 5 hours to drive there, 5 minutes to realize that Kurt wouldn’t be accepted, and another 5 hours to drive back home.
By the time Kurt turned 9, his behavior was worse than ever, with no end in sight. It seemed like we were taking him every other week or so to The Children’s Psychiatric Emergency Room.
It was during one of these visits to this E/R that our world would start to change again. Kurt was having a horrible time of it that home at night, knocking over the TV set and a wall unit. When he started to bang his head on purpose against the wall we knew we had to take him in. While there, one of the ER docs motioned me over to him. “Have you thought about placing Kurt in a Group Home,” he asked. “Of course,” I told him, then proceeded to tell him our 2 year saga of trying to place Kurt without any success.
The doctor then brought me to a small room and closed the door behind us. “I want to tell you something, Mr. Sass, but you can never tell anyone that I told you this. Most Group Homes will never take on a child like Kurt, because it comes down to a matter of money, and Kurt requires so much additional attention that it is not cost effective for them to accept him. In other words, most Group Homes only want the kids that don’t really need to be in Group Homes, because they are easier to take care of and require less staff.”
“There is one thing we can do, Mr. Sass, but you have to promise not to tell anyone you heard this from me.” He had my full attention. “The only way a Group Home will accept a child like Kurt would be on an emergency basis. In other words, if Child Welfare felt that he could not under any circumstances remain at home because his life would be in danger. What I can do is refer him overnight to the Bronx Children’s Psychiatric Hospital for evaluation and to put on my report that it is for the child’s safety.”
“What you need to do, Mr. Sass, is to come to the hospital the next day, and then pretend you are the absolute worst parent on the face of the earth. You’ll have to convince Child Welfare that you hate him and that if he is returned home you will harm him. And you’ll have to be very convincing, because if they believe you’re faking, they’ll send him right back to your house. One other thing. Come alone. Don’t bring your wife. If both parents come the odds are much more likely that the child will not be considered in danger. Now remember, Mr. Sass, you did not hear this from me. But you must decide. To be honest with you, this is the only way to get him in a Group Home.”
I discussed this with Valerie and, through tears, we decided to go ahead with it since it was truly our only option.
The next day I went to the Bronx Children’s Psychiatric Hospital, alone, and was led to a room in which there were 4 people; Kurt, a member of the hospital staff and 2 people I believe to be from the Department of Child Welfare. As soon as I spotted them, I went into my performance mode. I yelled at Kurt and called him every name in the book. I had never cursed at Kurt before and felt like the lowest scum on earth in doing so. I called him a “fucking retard” and told him I wish he was never born. I still had no idea if they were buying it, so I proceeded to pick up a chair and throw it past Kurt, but close enough for the others in the room to think he was the intended target. I will never forget the look of fear on Kurt’s face for as long as I live. I still have nightmares about it.
Well, whatever I did, it worked. They refused to let me take Kurt home, and “miraculously” just 2 days later he was placed in a Group Home just 5 minutes from our house, a place we were told many times in the past had no openings.
Was it worth it? Of course, it was. Kurt has flourished in the highly structured Group Home environment.
Although I could never thank the doctor enough for his courage in putting himself at risk to help me out, I to this day find it appalling that I had to stoop to being so cruel to my own son in order to help him.
K.S.
Posted in Medical Experiences, Parenting Experiences, Sad Experiences, Winning Experiences | 1 Comment »
Tuesday, January 29th, 2008 |
Who knew that giving birth to twins could change a life so drastically. After being on bed rest for half my pregnancy and going into labor 6 weeks before my due date, life went from a turtles speed to a whirlwind. I had a beautiful boy and girl that are the light of my life.
All of a sudden all the fears of being responsible for another human being were multiplied by the 20 little fingers and toes in front of me. Fast forward a year and now there are two whirlwinds taking over my life heading in opposite directions. Walking and running are one in the same. Who knew those chunky little legs would carry those bodies at top speed. And the bumps and bruises that come with the speed. The tears and the giggles make my life complete.
I second guessed myself as I gave up my career, but look what I get in return. Two silly grins and lots of fun all day long; Much better than a dreary day in an office. No more suits, just the Mommy uniform of Yoga pants and a t-shirt make my life complete. I have responsibility not only for my own life, but for my family. Life changes with two, but now my life is complete.
Posted in Female Experiences, Happy Experiences, Parenting Experiences | No Comments »
Tuesday, January 1st, 2008 |
From my experience, all Christmas presents should be no bigger than a shoe box. Period.
Now before you think I some kind of Christmas scrooge, let me say that I really love Christmas, but every year it goes like this: We bundle up our little tots and stuff them into our oh-so-cool minivan to cart them to Grandma’s house. There, they load up on sugar and beverages (not the best combination) and open so many huge presents that their heads are about to explode. Somehow, even though we have instituted the gift exchange rule, it never seems to work. There are weird exclusions for the youngest members of the family and they get way more than their share of the loot.
Then it’s time to go and we have to try and figure out how to fit ten pounds of potatoes in a five pound sack in order to make it back home. The kids are so overwhelmed with stuff and they really would be just as happy with one or two special gifts.
Now I know that there is no way I am going to convince all the doting grandmas and aunts of the world not to buy gifts for their special little ones, so I beg you, stick with the shoe box rule. I have no more room for giant castles, enormous plastic furniture, or life-size anything. Please.
Posted in Home Experiences, Parenting Experiences, Shopping Experiences | 2 Comments »
Thursday, November 15th, 2007 |
From my experience last night at the sneak preview of Beowulf I learned that their were monsters in the theater seats as well as on screen. I’m speaking of the “parents” who brought their young children to see the PG-13 movie. Of course, all parents make mistakes, myself included, but to show such poor judgment by bringing their kids just to save a buck or two on a free sneak preview is ridiculous. I firmly believe that all potential parents should have to take a test to see if they should be allowed to be parents. I’m sure most would fail.
While standing in line to watch Beowulf I saw at least 8 children near me who were 10 years-old or less. The people directly in front of me had a double stroller with two children 3 years-old or less and a 7 or 8 year-old daughter. I was beside myself thinking of the poor choice they had made in bringing their children. Forget for a moment that the rating was PG-13, but the previews themselves should have been a clue that this was not a movie meant for young eyes. The violence was off the wall, sexual themes were strewn throughout and I saw more nude male butts than I have seen in a while on screen. I mean come on, Beowulf fights in the nude and the female demon played by Angelina Joile was fully nude without the details (think Barbie doll).
The scenes with the Grendel were particularly intense showing him ripping bodies in half, biting the heads of people and then chewing them slowly on camera. Impalings, beheadings, and dismemberments were abundant. The whole time I’m thinking about the nightmares the dozens of children in the theater will be having tonight. A child next to me asked the meaning of a sexually-laced conversation to his Father. I couldn’t hear the father’s reply, but I’m hoping he felt some guilt in bringing his young son.
I’m sure the fact that this was animated gave some parents the wrong idea that this was made for kids and the fact that the tickets were giveaways probably clouded some judgments, but as parents we have to be stronger and wiser than this. We have to realize that PG-13 doesn’t mean it’s okay for all kids or even kids older than 13. Parental guidance is needed and from what I could see guidance was in short supply for many of those children.
Unfortunaely the children suffer for their parents laziness in not checking the movie out ahead of time. Their are many websites that can help parents know what the movies contain and if they are truly appropriate. Here are a few I have used over the years:
Take some time before you take your kids to the movies and see what they movie will be exposing your children to. Even more important, be aware of the movies they are seeing without you. These review sites can educate you as to what your kids are feeding their minds.
Of course none of this makes any difference unless you have the resolve to say “no” to them when they are pressuring you to see movies because “all their friends” have seen it. Take a stand and realize it is just a movie and one day they will appreciate it.
Finally, this move should have been R and I wonder why the MPAA doesn’t have a rating in between PG-13 and R, because obviously too many parents don’t bother to check the movie’s content and rely on a lax rating system. The gap between the R and PG-13 rating is narrow and I would love to know what pushes a movie to R, because I obviously don’t have a clue after what I saw in Beowulf. Unfortunately, I’m afraid most of the parents that brought their children to this movie don’t have a clue either.
Posted in Parenting Experiences | No Comments »
