When Push Comes To Shove

I remember the day like it was yesterday… Jaisa was about three months old. I was sitting on the floor in our living room holding her while Matt and I just finished reprimanding Ella for misbehaving—the details of that are not as clear. Ella, still a bit upset that she got in trouble, walked over and hit me. I was shocked. Especially since I was still holding Jaisa, and up to that point Ella had been an extra careful big sister around our new family addition.

Mystified by her reaction, I asked Ella, “Why did you hit Mama?” not expecting an actual explanation. Again, she was only three and still had trouble articulating her feelings. But what came out of her mouth next resounded loud and clear.

“I want to put the baby back in your belly,” Ella mumbled.

At first, I thought I was hearing things. I was speechless. For one, I couldn’t believe she was actually able to tell me WHY she hit me. Secondly, I couldn’t believe her reason. But, I figured if she was being so candid I might as well probe further.

“Why would you want me to put Jaisa back in my belly, Honey?”

Ella was quiet for minute, as if determining if she should actually tell me the truth or not. And then, out it came.

“I want you to play with me,” she said.

Two words: Heart. Breaking.

I’m sure many of you who’ve had a second child can recall how challenging it was in the beginning, especially for the oldest child to adjust. Our story was no different. Ella was our baby. We did everything together. She never had to share our time with someone else. So her latest outburst of defiance made me stop and think. Since Jaisa had been born (about 3 months ago at that point), when WAS the last time Ella and I really played together, just the two of us? Sadly, I couldn’t pinpoint a date. Ella’s matter-of-fact reaction was a wake-up call. I needed to make time and give her the attention she was missing.

Those first few months were dicey for all of us. But we made sure we devoted more one-on-one time to Ella and helped her feel included as we brought up baby. Getting clean diapers and bottles became her thing and she loved to help us out. We also made a point to not always refer to Ella as “the big sister” because we all knew she was so much more than that.

As a sentimental side note: Nothing can take away a mother’s love for her firstborn. But to answer a common question, once that second child comes around, you really do magically produce more than enough love for both children.

It’s not over till it’s over…
Now that Jaisa is mobile, she loves playing with Ella, and the feeling is mutual. Ella often asks for Jaisa to come play in her room, which I find precious. What amazes me is how protective Ella can be of her little sister—making sure all the tiny toys are well out of Jaisa’s reach and letting me and Matt hear it if we ever forget to close a baby gate.

Lately though, we’ve seen a bit of that behavior from Jaisa’s infant days creep back. One minute Ella is pleasant as can be, then (BAM!) out of the blue, she’ll push Jaisa in mid-walk, or tackle her to the ground, pull her, and just plain be rough. We harp on her constantly, and maybe that’s the problem. Is she acting out to get attention? I wish I knew. Now when I ask why she pushed her sister, she’s not quite as articulate as she was a year ago.

Is this a sign of things to come? I can only hope that these latest shenanigans are just a phase and the two sisters will grow up to be the best of friends. I want for them the closeness I always imagined having a sister would bring—braiding each other’s hair, sharing clothes, talking about boys and hopes and dreams. You know…all that good stuff you see on TV.

Whatever happens, Jaisa’s not going to be one year old and helpless forever. Fast forward three years and Ella better sleep with one eye open.


Have any tips on how you handle your children’s sibling rivalry? I’d love to hear them!

The day I became a MODO

Happy New Year!
With today being the first day of the New Year, what better day to finally get my blog up and running. January 1st marks a day of new beginnings, so for my first blog entry, I'm going to tell the story that made MODO Moments possible. The day I became a mother to my second daughter. It goes something like this...

Three days before my due date, I wasn’t feeling quite right. It was a Friday, I was at work, and I remember telling my co-workers, “I don’t think I’ll make it through the weekend.” Those who placed bets with their “best-guess” dates approaching grew hungrier for the winnings. It was just a matter of time. That night the dull cramping persisted, but not enough to start counting the minutes—just a constant ache that made it difficult to get a sound night of sleep.

By day break, I knew this was the “real deal” as the pain became more intense and I was able to clock it. By 8 am, the contractions were 8 minutes apart. Still not knowing how long this could go on for, I assured my husband that he could go help with his mom’s rummage sale, but to keep the phone at hand. Meanwhile, I tried to keep our 3-year-old daughter Ella occupied with an art project as I winced through the periodic pain and got the remains of my hospital bag together. With the passing of each half hour, the contractions got closer and closer together. Just two hours later, they were 5 minutes apart. I called the doctor to share the news.

It was “time.”

Ella was thrilled when I told her the baby was finally coming. Little did she know, it still might be hours before she could find out whether she’d have a little sister or brother. To tell you the truth, I’m not so sure she cared. She was more excited to get to spend the night with Grandma.

So my husband got called home, we gathered up our bags, dropped Ella off at Grandma and Grandpa’s and headed to the hospital—a short 5 minute drive away—when things really kicked into gear. Once we arrived at the labor and delivery room, had my vitals checked, got attached to all sorts of tubes and was interrogated with a thousand questions, I was begging for an epidural. Finally, after two agonizing hours the anesthesiologist came with relief in hand. I just hoped I could remain still long enough for him to jam that foot-long needle into my spine. Heaven followed.

After about an hour, my water finally broke and it was time for me to start pushing. I pushed and pushed and still no baby came. Two hours of this and tears started to roll down my face uncontrollably. Not again! I thought. I pushed for two and a half hours with Ella and was assured by countless friends that the second child would be easier. What happened to the stories about only having to push a few times before the baby popped out? You can imagine my disappointed when I reached that two-and-a-half-hour mark and nothing…. Three hours…nothing… Finally, the doc came in to help me along—forceps at the ready. He must have known that somewhere deep inside me I could muster up a few more good pushes before using other means. So there I went, giving it one last try. One…two…three…and after 9 ½ hours of labor (sure beat Ella’s 16!) and 3 hours and 15 minutes of pushing…there was my preciously stubborn baby girl.

Jaisa Mae was born at 6:36 pm weighing 7 lbs, 5 oz, 21 inches long. And of course she was worth every last push.

A few hours later, big sister Ella came to meet her new little partner in crime. We took this picture of Ella proudly holding Jaisa for the first time. A picture says a thousand words. And the adventure continues…