The Complicated Feelings That Come When You Find Out You're Expecting Your Fifth BOY

During the first half of my pregnancy, when the gender of our baby was still unknown, family and friends would often say things like, "Oh, I hope you get your girl this time!"

I know they meant it with the best of intentions and I love them for it, but such comments always made me slightly indignant, like, "Do they really think I'm having another baby just because I'm hoping for a girl?!"

The truth is, before we decided to have another baby, I had to think long and hard about whether or not I was actually okay with possibly adding a girl to our family. The thought literally terrified me. I love my four boys. I love the identity that having all one gender gives to our family. I love being able to streamline gift giving and event planning because their interests and needs are so similar. Basically, I'm just very, very comfortable being a mom of boys.

I've thought often about something my friend once told me. She has two boys and one girl, and she and her husband were contemplating having a fourth. She really, really wanted a sister for her little girl, and her husband said if they could guarantee a girl, then he'd be fine with it, too. But the thing is, you can't guarantee something like that (at least, not unless you want to spend a lot of money), and my friend said she realized she had to be okay with a girl or a boy. (The rest of the story: they decided to stick with three children rather than chance it.)

I found myself facing the same kind of decision before this pregnancy, and I think most people are surprised to learn that it was actually the idea of a girl, rather than another boy, that made me hesitant to have another baby. But eventually, I came to terms with the possibility.

I'm not the type of person to get any sort of premonition about the gender of the baby when I'm pregnant. I never have any dreams or get any sort of feeling. I just always think I'm having a boy because that's all I know. (Maybe if I ever do end up having a girl, my pregnancy will be so different, I'll just know it right from the start.)

Anyway, as the date of our 20-week ultrasound approached, I found myself clutching possessively at my all-boy card while at the same time entertaining a thought here and there about pink clothes and hair bows and mommy-daughter dates.

It was a strange bag of emotions, and I kept thinking about how grateful I was that the decision was beyond my control. I constantly felt the pressure to produce a girl, and I think if it had actually been up to me, I wouldn't have been able to separate what I wanted from the opinions of everyone around me.

Before the doctor began the ultrasound, she asked about our family and found out about our four boys. We told her we thought this baby was probably another boy but that we wouldn't be shedding any tears either way because we were perfectly content with either a boy or a girl. She began her methodical exam, starting with the placenta and cervix. As she made her way to the actual baby, the answer was right there, loud and clear.

"Well that's definitely a boy," she said. "I actually was pretty sure you were going to have a girl, but I was wrong."

And Mike and I both looked at each other and laughed. Five boys. Who would've ever thought?

I knew I would be happy and relieved and just so content if I found out we were having another boy. And I was. All of those emotions were there, front and center. What I was unprepared for were the other feelings that immediately crowded in and clamored for my attention.

The one word that best describes them is, ironically, loss.

Here I was, gaining another child and another son, and I felt an overwhelming sense of loss.

It's hard for me to comprehend, let alone explain, which I think is the reason I felt compelled to write about it. (And I should probably insert that I think my feelings would have been just as complicated if we'd found out we were having a girl, and there would have been a sense of loss with that as well.)

As Mike and I were sitting in the lobby waiting for the ultrasound DVD to copy, I leaned over and whispered, "I'm sad for Aaron." It was an odd sentiment. Aaron hadn't ever even expressed a desire for a sister, and I knew he'd be thrilled when he heard he was getting another brother, but still I felt sad for him. He has always been the very sweetest of big brothers, and I imagined that would have only been multiplied if it had been a baby sister under his kind and protective wing. More than anything, I think it was the realization that I wouldn't get to see what he would have been like as the big brother of a little sister.

As the days passed, that wondering of what would have been seemed to haunt me at every turn. Because we've never had a girl, our experiences so far have followed a rather similar course. And knowing that this is our fifth child and that five children is a lot, it is quite possible that this will be our last and so I might very well never know what some of those things would feel like.

For example, how would I react if the ultrasound tech said, "And . . . it looks like it's a girl!" It's rather mind blowing.

Or what would it feel like to tell family and friends (particularly my mother-in-law) that we're having a girl? How would they respond?

What would I do to prepare for a girl? How would it be different than preparing for a boy? What books would I read? What conversations would I have? What clothes or baby gear would I buy?

What would it be like to choose a name for a girl? To look through lists of girl names and pay close attention to every unique or unusual name I heard?

How would Sunday mornings change if I had to actually fix a little girl's hair before church instead of making a pit stop at the drinking fountain on our way into the chapel to smooth down my boys' unruly tufts?

What would it be like to hold her for the first time? To see Mike hold her for the first time? To see my kids with her?

While I'm so happy to have another boy, everything I've been feeling is so familiar. I've done this all before. Five times actually. And there's a small part of me that wonders what, if anything, I'm missing.

However, traveling the well-traveled road comes with its own perks. I've done this before, and I know I'm in for a treat. I can't wait to snuggle and love another boy. (And I'm happy to retain my position of queen of the house without having to figure out how to share the role.)

And although much of this pregnancy is familiar, there have been some delightful surprises as well. For one, our kids are beyond excited. Like, you wouldn't believe how ecstatic they are about another brother. Every week, we have to look up his progress and growth. And every few days, Clark will randomly burst out, "You're going to have a baby! I'm going to be a big brother!" My kids have never been old enough before to truly enjoy the excitement and anticipation of a new baby, and it has brought a whole new level of joy that I wasn't expecting.

The other surprise is how everyone else has reacted to the news of another boy. In the past, people have offered condolences or half-hearted attempts at enthusiasm when we've shared the gender, so that's what I was expecting this time. But either people are getting better at lying or five boys is just so crazy that it carries its own wonder. I choose to think the latter because that's how I feel. Five boys is miraculously wonderful.

And actually, I have a confession to make: In spite of telling the doctor that she wouldn't see any tears from me, I found myself quietly wiping them away. But it wasn't because I was having a boy. And it wasn't because I wasn't having a girl. As she looked at our baby's brain and his heart and his limbs and his face and his spine, she kept saying things like, "See this? That's exactly what we want to see. You have a perfectly healthy baby."

And that, beyond anything else, is the true wonder and miracle to me. Life is a such a gift, and I feel so incredibly blessed to watch another little one take shape. My heart is full and my tears catch me unawares, both then in that little exam room and every day since.

Photo credit goes to our good friend, James Gardner.

Raising an Emotionally Intelligent Child: The Heart of Parenting by John Gottman

Sometimes I read a book with the hopes that it will help me understand my children and consequently make me a better mom. In the process of analyzing my kids, I begin to analyze myself, and I make discoveries in places I was not expecting.

This is exactly what happened as I read this book. And it's exactly what happened to my friends who also read it for our education principles meeting.

In the first ten minutes of our discussion, we talked about strained relationships with family members, due in large part to repressing feelings and lacking emotional connections. I think we all could tell it was going to turn into a night of group therapy.

The book takes an unbiased, scientific look at feelings and emotions and the appropriate way to handle and express them. In many ways, it's very idealistic: in the third chapter, he lays out the "five key steps for emotion coaching," which are "limit setting, identifying goals, thinking of possible solutions, evaluating proposed solutions based on your family's values, and helping your child choose a solution." As with most parenting books, I was a little skeptical: It sounds so simple and easy; if I do A, he'll do B. If I say C, he'll say D. In my experience, the little scripts are nice, but add in the very things this book is about (i.e., volatile human emotions), and real-life scenarios play out in very unexpected ways.

However, if you can't approach emotions in a practical, idealistic way, how will you ever possibly get a grip on them? Which is why I decided to set aside my skepticism and just learn and apply all I could from this book.

As I went into it with an open mind, I discovered a lot of things about my children and the ways they handle their emotions but also about myself and the way I handle my emotions.

Early in the book, Dr. Gottman has the reader take a couple of quizzes, which are meant to highlight the reader's parenting style but also reveal how the reader perceives and reacts to various emotions. Although somewhat tedious, I decided to answer all of the questions as honestly as possible (which was very difficult for me, since I knew what the "right" answer was and that my truthful answer was not going to result in a very good score). And what I discovered was this:

I am more empathetic to feelings of sadness than to feelings of anger. I believe sometimes you need to let yourself have a good cry, but you should never give voice to your anger. Both emotions are subordinate to happiness. Happiness is the ultimate feeling, the one we should all strive for.

The more I read, the more I realized my opinions were a little (or a lot) messed up. And it wasn't just that I was believing what Dr. Gottman was telling me but that I could see the truth of it reflected in my own life.

Without meaning to, my life became the perfect object lesson. I happened to read this book while I was at my family reunion a few weeks ago. It could not have been more timely. As often happens when you get a large group of people together who share common blood, there were some moments of tension. At the beginning of the week, my brother and I decided we would both try our hardest not to be the cause of any fights or hurt feelings. We even put a plate of cookies on the line to give us a little more incentive.

This little competition worked like a charm for the first two days. Anytime, someone would say something I didn't agree with, I would just bite my tongue or leave the room. But as the week went on, it became more and more difficult for me to keep my mouth shut. I felt a physical pressure building inside of me, and at one point I even told Mike, "I think we might need to go home early" because I didn't know how I could possibly last another couple of days without letting some of that pressure escape, and I knew the result would be something I'd definitely regret.

(I realize this makes it sound like the reunion was full of tension, which it wasn't at all. I'm just giving you a small glimpse of the unpleasant parts for the sake of this book. Overall, it was one of the most fun family reunions I've been to.)

Anyway, all this was happening while I was reading about the benefits of not suppressing your anger but dealing with it immediately in a constructive and healthy way. On our drive home (not two days early, by the way), I realized that I hadn't handled my feelings well at all. I had felt so proud of myself for not yelling at anybody (which I still believe was a good thing), but I hadn't dealt with any of my frustration, anger, or annoyance. I kept it all inside of me until it physically hurt. In retrospect, it's totally clear what I should have done: address the problem quietly and respectfully before it got to the point that it would have exploded out of my mouth if I'd said anything. For example, when another family member bossed around my children (even when I was sitting in the same room), I could have said, "I know you're trying to be helpful, but if I'm in the room, please let me handle it." My problem is, it's hard for me to picture myself saying such a thing calmly and rationally because I generally wait to say anything until it's too late.

All of this is to say that since reading this book, I'm viewing anger in a much more positive light. There are still healthy and unhealthy ways to express it. Of course there are. But if I'm feeling angry, it's because something is wrong and something needs to be addressed. I now believe that anger, if handled correctly, can be an avenue for positive change.

Now that I've looked at my own emotions more realistically and openly, I've been more empathetic towards my kids' emotions. At the beginning of the book, Dr. Gottman said, ". . . we have inherited a tradition of discounting children's feelings simply because children are smaller, less rational, less experienced, and less powerful than the adults around them. Taking children's emotions seriously requires empathy, keen listening skills, and a willingness to see things from their perspective." I admit that I was definitely the mom that would send her tantrum-ing children to their rooms until they could come out with happy faces.

At the very least, this book has helped me validate their feelings. I no longer try to end the unpleasant emotions as quickly as possible. Instead, I use his suggestions in the book and reflect their feelings back to them: "I can see you're feeling really upset about this. I know it can be hard not to have things go your way." But in the midst of being more empathetic, I try to set really clear boundaries: "But even when you're feeling really upset, it is not okay to hit your brother. You may take a little break in your room or outside."

I've also tried to be more in tune with where the problem might be stemming from, and to be honest, it almost always comes from the same place: lack of food. When my kids are hungry, they tend to take everything very personally. A little snack goes a long way, and then, even if we're dealing with a slightly bigger problem, we can do just that: deal with it, like rational human beings.

Now is this book the perfect solution? Of course not. Many of his conversations are stilted and unrealistic. Many of his personal examples are very one dimensional (probably because he only has one child who, at the time he wrote it, was still under the age of ten). And I would have really loved less script and more real life examples.

However, I've read enough parenting books to know I will never find the perfect one. And that's what makes them so fabulous. I take what I want, laugh at some parts, and throw away the rest. And slowly, veeerrrry sloooowwwly, my parenting is becoming what I want it to be.

How do YOU view anger, sadness, and other emotions? Do you have a favorite parenting book that teaches about people's feelings? Please share in the comments.

Maxwell's Preschool: S is for Scaredy Squirrel

Maxwell is part of another preschool co-op this school year. The group consists of five children, two girls and three boys. We do a weekly number, letter, color, and theme and use the curriculum The Amazing Action Alphabet. (As of right now, I am not overly impressed with The Amazing Action Alphabet, but it is providing some structure, which is nice.) For more preschool ideas, click here.

For my first week of teaching, I had the number 5, the letter S, the color blue, and "feelings and emotions" as a theme.

I thought Scaredy Squirrel would be the perfect lead-in to a discussion about feelings and emotions . . . plus "scaredy" and "squirrel" both begin with the letter S. How convenient.

Scaredy Squirrel is afraid of everything. He never leaves his safe nut tree, and he never varies from his very reliable schedule. But just in case disaster were ever to strike, Scaredy Squirrel is well-prepared with his emergency kit. (And if all else fails, he knows he can always play dead.) Then one day, something unexpected does happen. And Scaredy Squirrel realizes the "unknown" isn't as awful as he feared . . . even if his emergency kit falls out of his tree.

(There is a whole line of Scaredy Squirrel books, and all of them are funny and creative and present a new set of problems and fears to overcome. Our other favorites are Scaredy Squirrel at Night and Scaredy Squirrel Makes a Friend.)

After beginning with our opening routine (welcome song, days of the week song, calendar, weather, pledge of allegiance, reading the story in the alphabet book, and doing a little worksheet), I read Scaredy Squirrel to the children.

But first, we had a little discussion about things that we're scared of. Even though the kids were very influenced by what each other was saying, we still heard a variety of ideas.

I only got to the first page before I had to stop. The first page reads, "WARNING! Scaredy Squirrel insists that everyone wash their hands with antibacterial soap before reading this book." So of course, we had to stop and put on some hand sanitizer. We wanted to follow Scaredy Squirrel's request.

Personally, I sometimes find Scaredy Squirrel a little tedious to read aloud because it contains lots of lists and diagrams and such (which are all absolutely hilarious but make it difficult to maintain the flow), but the kids LOVED this book. Some of them are a little energetic sometimes, but all of them were motionless while we were reading.

After reading it, we gathered around the table to make our own charts of things we're afraid of. Scaredy Squirrel's chart looked like this:

The kids' charts turned out like this:

Looking back, I wish that I'd labeled all of their squares just like Scaredy Squirrel's. Some of their pictures are more difficult to interpret than others, although I know tarantulas, bees, and sharks all made an appearance straight from Scaredy Squirrel's own list.

Top left corner, going clockwise: shark, ghost, a stuffed snake named Luvvy, and bees

After that, we had a snack. Since Scaredy Squirrel loves nuts, we had "acorns"--really chocolate kisses, vanilla wafers, and pretzels, glued together with frosting. Super healthy, I know.

In the book, Scaredy Squirrel shows several similar emotions: fear, anxiety, stress, terror, and panic. But I wanted the kids to think about more emotions than just those ones. So I decided to let them give Scaredy Squirrel whatever emotion they wanted.

I drew my own picture of Scaredy Squirrel but left off his face. Then I laminated him. I made one of these for each child.

I put dry eraser markers out for everyone (and lectured them about the importance of keeping them away from their clothes :-)). Then we talked about some of the other ways Scaredy Squirrel might feel. I had a white board, and as the kids thought of various feelings, I drew an example up on the board. They could then copy it on Scaredy Squirrel or come up with their own ideas.

 

 Surprised

I was surprised with how imaginative the kids were with this activity. They loved it, and they were really quite good with adding little details to change Scaredy Squirrel's expressions.

 Angry

There is a little twist at the end of Scaredy Squirrel. As he jumps to save his emergency kit, Scaredy Squirrel discovers something amazing: he is a flying squirrel. Since he had never ventured beyond his nut tree, he never knew he had this amazing talent.

Of course, Scaredy Squirrel wasn't really flying, but gliding. I thought this would be a great time to talk about how falling objects slow down based on how well they're able to catch the air. For the sake of this lesson and our obsession with the letter S, we called this soaring. 

I found a great book of science projects for 2-6 year-olds called Science Play by Jill Frankel Hauser.

It just happened to have a whole experiment focused around air resistance.

The book suggested using paper strips in three different ways:

1. As itself - no folds or cuts anywhere
2. A larger rectangle with a long slit coming in from either side, then opened up and taped to make a triangular shape.
3. A little snip in each end that were then interlocked to make a fish shape
4. I added the fourth rectangle and later let them cut, fold, and tape it however they wanted to make the absolute best flier they possibly could

Then it was time to test the fliers. First we tried the paper strip. 

 

Then we tried the fish shape. This one was actually really cool because it spun around and around all the way down.

After that, we tried the triangle shape. Now that they had three different flying examples, we went inside to work on the green piece of paper.

I was amazed with their creativity. They cut and folded, and they used lots and lots and lots of tape. All of them looked so different!

As a final activity, I put a basket under the club house. I told the kids they could use whichever flier they wanted. Then they had to drop them and try to get them in the basket. This was much more difficult than I was expecting.

That was the end of the first day (we hold preschool two times a week).

On the second day, the first thing we did (after our opening routine) was go into the kitchen and make some pretzels. I wanted them to have a more tactile experience with the letter S. I gave each of them a ball of dough and let them roll and twist and shape it into an S.

I had made the dough the night before (I used this recipe). I've never let the dough sit overnight before, but it worked out just great.

While the pretzels were cooking, I had them work on a little number 5 worksheet.

While they were doing that, I took the pretzels out of the oven and brushed them with butter and sprinkled them with cinnamon and sugar.

We ate them while they were still warm. They were so yummy! One of the little boys is kind of a picky eater. He was in Aaron's preschool co-op last year, and I almost never could find a snack that he would eat. But he LOVED these pretzels, so I felt very gratified.

To go along with our feelings and emotions theme, we read another book: Happy by Mies Van Hout.

This one is absolutely delightful. It shows one fish on each page displaying a different emotion. The emotions range from your basic "happy" and "sad" all the way to "shocked" and "jealous" and "furious." I love the variety. It's the only book I've found that covers so many feelings, and it's amazing how well the pictures express what the fish are feeling.

(My two-year-old has this book memorized, and it is so adorably cute to hear him say big words like "curious" and "confused" while making the appropriate faces.)

As I read this book to the kids, we tried to copy the faces of the fish. I explained any of the feelings they weren't familiar with.

Then I had all of them sit on the couch. Each one had a turn leaving the room and deciding which emotion from the book they were going to express--a simple version of charades. It was wildly entertaining to see these emotions on the children. We played several rounds of this game, and I think they would have just kept playing if I hadn't moved them on to another activity.

In Scaredy Squirrel, there are a couple of pages that outline Scaredy Squirrel's schedule each day: at 7:00 a.m. he eats a nut, at 12:00 p.m. he eats another nut, etc.

I thought it would be a good opportunity to have a simple lesson on telling time. But first, we had to make our own clocks.

I did quite a bit of the prep work for this project ahead of time. I cut out the arrows for the clock hands. I also wrote out the numbers 6-12 on squares and glued them around half of the paper plate.

 

I wanted the children to have both writing and cutting practice, but I knew it would be too overwhelming for them to try and write all the numbers. So far, we've learned the numbers 1-5, so I gave them a strip of paper with several squares marked on it. I had them write the numbers on the squares and then cut them apart. Then they glued them onto the paper plate to finish the clock.

Then I showed them how the little hand tells us the hour, and when the big hand is right on the 12, it is exactly three o'clock (or five o'clock or whatever).

We played a little game where I told them what time it was (seven o'clock, for example), and then they scrambled as fast as they could to show that time on their clocks. Then they flipped it around for me to see.

By this time, they were all getting a little restless, so it wasn't quite as fun as I was hoping for. However, when my five-year-old got home from school and saw the clocks, he had to make one, and I've since used it to help him learn to tell time, with good success.

We only did one more activity after this, and it was very unstructured. Since we were learning about the number five, I told them to go on a five scavenger hunt. They could go anywhere in the house or in the backyard and round up a collection of five. It could be a collection of anything, even mismatched or random objects, but it could only have five objects in it.

Here are two collections--one of animals and another of leaves.

I think it's kind of funny that both last year and this year, my weeks to teach fell on the letter S. So while I don't have any lesson plans for many of the other letters, I now have two completely different lessons for the letter S.