Highstakes Blackjack

In ten days we go for our first follow up since starting our daughter on growth hormones. As some of you may know, I fought like crazy to avoid injecting what I viewed as a man made foreign substance into my daughter's body every day for what could be as long as a decade. In many ways, I still view her injections as such that it makes my heart flutter and body cringe with the thoughts of what's exactly being injected into her.

As with anything in the world of parenthood, I heard the varying opinions of everyone. Do it, give her a chance! Are you sure she needs it? Don't do it, don't put that stuff in her body! The last one screaming the loudest from my own thoughts as I, perhaps a little obsessively, thought of all the ways I have tried to keep her body as clean as possible from chemicals and the plethora of other contaminates we have littered our air, water, land with. All I could think was, what was the point if I was destined to inject her with at least some of that nastiness, every, single. day. I've found a bit of acceptance by understanding this is a hormone, like insulin for diabetics, and it's replacing what she's lacking, not adding something

I knew parenting would be hard. I didn't quite comprehend just how excruciatingly difficult some decisions would be, especially when everyone has a strong opinion and research always seems to contradict itself with each new study. While breast feeding may be a hot topic in the parenting world, for some bizarre reason I can't quite fathom, and the battling opinions over immunizations practically cause people to resort to all out brawls, my most challenging decision to date is without a doubt whether to go forward with giving my daughter growth hormones derived in some lab. Before all the opinions and judgments reign down... two years of testing indicated that her body wasn't producing enough of this essential hormone on it's own. Could I have more tests done? Sure. Could I repeat the growth hormone stimulation test using different medicines to test the levels again? Sure. But at some point, as a mother, I needed to make a decision and I felt that two years of every doctor telling us the same thing was enough for my little girl to endure.

While my gut still holds on to the feeling I should not do this, my heart tells me it's ultimately the best decision I could make with the hand I was dealt. Sometimes that's what parenting feels like, actually. Like you're playing multiple games of blackjack with every penny to your name on the table and you need to decide whether to hit or stay with each hand and then wait to see what the dealer turns. While the idea of such high stakes gambling gives me anxiety just thinking about it, making such a decision that impacts the life of the only thing you deem precious beyond, well, life itself, is quite frankly beyond any level of anxiety I've ever battled. In the end, I guess that's what most parenting decisions are though. Even the seemingly small ones can have a profound impact on our little ones lives.

In some ways, I've come to terms with my decision. I repeatedly tell myself it was the best option I had with the cards I was dealt, keeping with my blackjack analogy. I try to accept the choices I make each day and pray that something greater than myself has a plan. And that I'm making the right choices that are in line with that plan and they will lead us all down the path of health, peace and happiness. Perhaps my faith is wavering because I've always struggled with fully accepting my decisions. I often second guess and then return to third and fourth guess and so on. I wish I could just let go and let it be. To have faith. To accept.

Perhaps it's simply in my Jewish nature to constantly question and maybe I have more faith than I think. Questioning what is and constantly reevaluating for the best possible outcome for all is basically how the book was written for us Jews. Despite this, that doesn't give me the peace I seek. The peace that I'm helping my daughter and not hurting her. The peace that this was in fact the right decision and will benefit her in the long run. That these injections will benefit her health and not cause potential issues down the road. That they will make her chances for reaching puberty, and thus the ability to have her own children to fret over, a more guaranteed outcome.

Most people think I decided to give her the shots because she's so tiny. And most don't understand the need because I'm tiny. Everyone on both sides of our family are small so it wouldn't be a big deal if she was too. Even with the injections she will still be small. Her genetic potential is 5'1" and giving her growth hormone only gives her the possibility to reach her genetic potential. Regardless, it wasn't about her gaining height but ensuring she had enough of this necessary hormone for the rest of her body to develop appropriately that convinced me to agree to the treatments.

I found a support group online but most of the people there are predominately focused on the height. I can understand that when your son has the potential to reach 6' and is negative on the charts. A good number of the people in the group have fought for a long time for their child to receive growth hormone therapy while I was battling against it for nearly two years. Basically, this leaves me feeling like the odd mom out and alone with all these mixed feelings. Everyone in the support group who understands this plight can't understand why I wouldn't want my child to receive the treatment and everyone whose child grows normally simply doesn't understand. Though all of my friend's compassion and support goes a long way.

In the end, support group or not, I'm on my own with these feelings and questioning my decision no matter what. My husband wanted it from the start but agreed to do whatever I thought was best. Or at least allowed me to be as comfortable as I could be with it all before starting treatment. We're starting our third month of treatment and as I said, we go for a follow up in just over a week. While I'm anxious to know if she's grown, as that's really the only perimeter to gauge if it's working, I'm still left with the constant feeling of uncertainty. Uncertain if this is the right course of action. Uncertain if I should do more. Get more tests, more opinions. Something! Considering she's five, I have a long wait until there's any type of certainty that this was the right decision. That it helped.

So, each day I turn back to the hand I was dealt and I look at my cards. I go through all the possibilities and hold my breath as I hope and pray that taking the hit was the right move to make. Too bad the stakes aren't simply every penny to my name. They are so much higher. I think back to celebrating my 23 birthday in Vegas and almost laugh because never could I have dreamed then that being a parent would be like this.

As nerve-wracking as it is to wait nearly a decade to see if this was the right path to take for my daughter, I can't help but to also be thankful that this is the hardest decision I've had to make to date. She's healthy and we are blessed for that; compared to so many other parents that suffer the unimaginable. Her adventure seeking personality may not be thrilled that she's still too small for all the big rollercoasters she's determined to ride, but she's a happy little girl. Ultimately, that's what is important. I just need to remind myself that we live in the now and what will be will be.

Who said acceptance and living in the present was easy? Oh right, the same person who said being a parent is a cake walk. At the moment I guess I need to settle for a draw and wait for the next hand to be dealt. And keep marking that growth chart.

My 5 and 3&1/2 year old.
We are asked daily if they are twins.

Risky Parenting

I don't know how many of you saw this essay, The Day I Left My Son In The Car, that Huffington shared this week. It's very long. Much longer than I tend to follow through with finishing. However, it's very thought provoking on a number of levels and so many points hit home that I started to hear Sheldon in my head saying, bazinga!

If you can't find the time to read it, trust me, I get it. I had to put it down at least 7 times for things like getting my daughter to stop coloring on her brother as a punishment for ticking her off, to wipe a butt and since I was reading it while I made and served lunch, well, you know how that goes. Considering this blog is called self talk insanity, it's probably no surprise that my head needs a release from a read such as this one. So, I decided to jot down a handful of the keepers and why those statements really resonated with me. This is rather long too. Sorry, but it's a lot to think about!

      "For the next four or five seconds, I did what it sometimes seems I’ve been doing every 

       minute of every day since having children, a constant, never-ending risk-benefit
       analysis..... And then I left him in the car for about five minutes."

I find myself in this mom's decision making predicament almost daily and to be honest, I had NO IDEA us loving, often viewed as overprotective, certainly overly worried parents could be CHARGED with a serious crime for choosing not to drag our tantrum throwing little people into the store with us. Now, the question or debate perhaps becomes, where does one draw the line on considering the situation a safe, quick, unencumbered run inside, to a potentially unsafe situation? Some might say it's unsafe no matter what. If you can't see your car/kids for any amount of time, I'd fall in the category of feeling it's unsafe. No matter what. But I can be a little paranoid, even if my sit back and let them be independent style gives one the impression otherwise. 

I won't lie though. I leave my kids in the car at least once each week. Though, they remain in my view the whole time and if it's hot, I leave the car running with the air on. If anyone so much as gets within 5' of the car I'm heading for the door. I only do this when I'm getting coffee and I only when I'm at a coffee shop that has glass throughout the front.  I also only leave them if I can get a spot right at the door. I also don't stay if there's a long line. I get them or head for the nearest drive though coffee shop. I usually can even see what they are doing. If my drink is taking more than a couple minutes I go out and check in with them. Yes, I have this down to a science. A mom science anyway. Some might say even this is not okay. Hey, to each his own. You're welcome to that opinion.

I don't think what this mom did was the best choice, even she says that, but despite it being my view that you don't leave your kids in the car if you can't see them, I felt this mom being charged was way overboard. Heck, drug users even get a three strike your out rule. You can get a slap on the wrist for sexual assault and even rapists can be sentenced to as little as 2 years! One poor parenting decision and there's a warrant out for her arrest!? Whoa. Eye opener. How did we get to this point though?

I found it even more disturbing that someone found the situation unsafe enough to video it and report it to authorities, yet they didn't find it appropriate to give that mom the benefit of the doubt that this was a split second, poor decision in an endless cluster of otherwise safe choices made throughout the day, and instead choose to walk up to her and suggest  that she not leave her child unattended. Or maybe even offer to watch the car if she was only going to be a couple minutes. What parent doesn't get what a royal pain it can be to drag your child in somewhere when they put their foot down that they don't want to go? I've done it and I'm surprised I wasn't reported because, to some bystander who only got a piece of the picture, it looked like I was abusing my child when in fact I was simply trying to stop him from throwing himself out of my arms as I try to untangle him from my body in an attempt to confine him to the cart while he's still flailing about and screaming "No, I don't want to Gooooooooo, nooooooo!" Those are the days you want to go home and curl up in bed and wish the kids would do the same! Never happens though. Rather than taking a video of one of your not so great parenting moments, offer to help. Now THAT would be a Good Samaritan. Or, would it?

The truly sad part of this alternative is, if another parent did offer a struggling mom, clearly a rush, that simple gesture of kindness, the mom's guard would likely go up and she would be more inclined to be wary of the stranger and take her child in with her. I would anyway. That mom who was about to leave her child might even report that stranger as a potential threat.  The thought would cross my mind. They say, better safe than sorry. But wow, how different this situation could have been, huh? Like the mom who wrote this article says, "In place of 'It takes a village,' our parenting mantra seems to be 'every man for himself'". Even more, it's clear to me that stranger danger is a concept we now identify with more than "community" and I can't help but to shake my head at how far we seem to have gone astray as a society in this regard. I'm as guilty as the next guy with this one, despite my belief that most people are good.

        "We sabotage ourselves with impossible standards, live with a chronic fear of not

          measuring up in what’s supposed to be our most important calling." ... "This is
          America and parenting is now a competitive sport, just like everything else."

These words probably made the most profound impact because they are so painfully true. With those words weighing on my mind since reading them, I've observed my actions and others actions while out and about with the kiddos these past few days. For the first time I can think of I wondered things like, what does that mom think of me sitting back while my kids splash and have fun in the baby pool while they are sitting on the edge, clearly not wanting to get in, like myself. I often revisit such situations after the fact or I just don't care to even consider it. Yet, I found myself wondering what those nearby thought about things they may have heard me say to the kids, whether it was threatening to leave wherever we were for not listening or warning them to watch their step and be careful. Was I too mean, too overprotective, or not being a "good enough" mom? Were they judging me or comparing my parenting to what they were doing? Did I measure up? Did they feel they measured up? What are we comparing our parenting to anyway? There's no manual. Well, actually there's a lot. And they all say something different.

I typically don't pay attention to such things. I really don't. I have enough on my plate than to care about such trivial things. Maybe others don't pay attention or care either. But, I think others may be paying more attention than I am because it's pretty clear this parenting thing is a competition, of sorts, to many parents. When you read anything online or see others Facebook posts, it  certainly feels like some sort of competition most of the time. I just choose not to compete. Except with myself that is. I'm the only mom I ever need to be better than. Quite frankly, that's more competition than I can bare most days! 

I know I'm far from "perfect". For one, such a mom is a myth our generation of parents seem to have imagined and then set out to beat. Two, I'm far from this imaginary perfect mom because I screw up daily. Many times each day in fact. I may not leave my kids in the car when I can't see it or even let them go far enough that I can't see them. Does that make me better than the mom whose daughter ran out of the play area at the mall and she had only realized when someone came and asked if anyone was missing a little blond girl? Heck no! It could happen to any of us. But I bet she felt like we were all judging her and she probably felt like a craptastic mom in that moment. I would have if it were me. Though I would have learned from it too and positioned myself differently next time. 

I make mistakes all the time and each night I tell myself I'll do better tomorrow. It's all I can do. I get angry with myself almost daily, and like everything in my life, I find it difficult to let things go and to forgive, especially myself. I hate yelling. I hate when I'm flat out mean because I'm so mad I can't remember to stop and breathe and then respond. I hate when I feel like a bad mom. The last thing I need to do is worry that others are comparing themselves to me and being concerned that they think they are "better". What's better anyway?

So, that minor I got in sociology came to the forefront a bit and for a change I decided to observe others as well. Or be more observant I should say. I always try not to judge, though in extreme cases, I certainly have some thoughts go through my head that are less than all loving and accepting, kumbaya type thoughts. I do try to reframe those thoughts and think, maybe that mom's just having a bad day. I've certainly had them while out in public. If it's a mom really on her game, I try to take note for future situations where I can snag some of her skills and put them to good use. It's never a competition in my head though. Maybe I'm just not a very competitive person. As I observed more, I realized how easy it would be to compare my ways to other moms. Even to compete. I see how our American mindset brings out this, more is better, I must be the best, mentality, even in parenting. I don't like it.

I get why so many seem to have switched gears and now coddle their kids. It's probably most obvious in how we now give trophies just for showing up. Next we'll be telling them great job for crossing the street by themselves at the age of 15! We're "graduating" our kids from preschool for crying out loud. My daughter definitely didn't obtain a degree at 3 years old. Yeah, they look cute in their caps and gowns, but what does it teach them? I worked hard for my degrees and in part it was to set a higher standard for my kids to want to achieve more; a higher expectation when it comes to academics. I don't want them to think such things are just handed to them.

     "Psychologists and social scientists wonder if we’re not instilling children with a sense of learned
      helplessness that makes them into subfunctional, narcissistic young adults who have an
      overinflated sense of worth and sensitivity"

I think that's exactly what we are doing! I don't wonder. I see it. Don't get me wrong, I worry with the best of them. I somehow can envision every awful thing that can possibly happen in every given situation. My husband thinks I'm insane most of the time if I even suggest why I'm anxious about certain things. He doesn't see danger in the same ways as I do. Like, in everything. He doesn't even think of it, as he says. Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one. Again, I do a good job outwardly of reigning in this anxiety, because I understand they need to learn and not just be told, but the worry is there. It's always there.

Example of one of my more ridiculous moments of looking 10 steps ahead (literally) for potential danger... We were walking through the grass at the pool and it had a lot of those little white weed flowers that bees love. I caught myself looking ahead of my daughter's path to make sure there wasn't a bee she would step on and get stung. She's never stepped on one. I've never stepped on one. I just have seen them fly away from those flowers and thought, she could step on one. I should watch so I can prevent that. 

     "'The problem is... there’s some risk to every choice you make.'", Lenore Skenazy is quoted as
       telling this author. 

Isn't that the truth?! I do those risk benefit analyses in each situation and once I feel the kids are as safe as they can be with the least chance of injury, tantrum or fighting with one another, I step back. I rarely hover. I just need eyes on them. I've never been one to gasp and run when they fall. I'll calmly walk over, give a hug, check if they are injured, offer an ice pack if necessary in my futile effort to limit their endless supply if bruises, and we move on. They move on. Unless they are tired, of course. Then there's no moving on. Just the end of the world. Or so it seems.

      "Skenazy boils it down to this. 'There’s been this huge cultural shift. We now live in a society
       where most people believe a child can not be out of your sight for one second, where people
       think children need constant, total adult supervision. This shift is not rooted in fact. It’s not
       rooted in any true change. It’s imaginary. It’s rooted in irrational fear.'"

That's me! I remember walking with my best friend to the local pool at the age of 8. The pool was down the hill I lived on so we took a shortcut through what one might call the woods. There were steps and everything but one might see it as the perfect setting for the boogie man to jump out and snatch two little girls right up. Not only did we do this almost daily for a whole summer but we also then spent the whole day at the pool. By ourselves! We bought our own food. We swam on our own, without swimmies or life vests. Even applied our own sunscreen. Somehow, we managed. to survive. I remember playing at a friends house well into the dark with all our friends in the neighborhood. No parents were sitting out watching us. They were home, but not supervising. Again, we all managed to survive. And get into some mischief. Isn't that what being a kid is all about though?

Honestly, I can't imagine feeling comfortable with my kids doing these things. Thinking of them walking on their own on busy streets or back paths though secluded areas makes me feel sick to my stomach. Is it really anymore dangerous today? From what I've read, not really. Maybe we just hear about it more now. With the Internet and info so readily available, we don't have a choice. Maybe our parents were more naïve and innocent regarding all the big bad wolves out there or they closed their eyes and shut their ears to reduce their anxiety. Whatever the case, I don't see a way back. Once those thoughts are in your head, they don't just go away. And we're left with what exactly? Being "overprotective" or dealing with our anxiety and praying for the best. Our kids have to spread their wings and fly a little bit each day, right?

       "Of all the difficult parts of parenting, the hardest for me (and for many people, I think) is not the
         fatigue or time drain or chaos of family life, but the inability to ensure that nothing terrible will
        ever happen to my children. This desire to prevent suffering in one’s kids is stronger than the
       desire to breathe, stronger than my most basic human instincts. And yet, no matter how strong
       the desire, none of us can do it. We just can’t."


Despite this overwhelming desire to protect and prevent, we will still make mistakes and some poor parenting choices. Probably each day. Why? Because each and every one of us is human and that's what humans do. Humans also have the infinite ability to learn. We can't go back and remove all the images and stories of tragedies that have happened to others kids. Rather than compete in this imaginary parenting race, why not learn from each other instead? Isn't that a big part of what "It Takes a Village" is all about anyway? I think we need that village now more than ever.