So long to the blog but not to the writer

It’s time for me to stop writing The Conscious Diabetic.

I’m sure you guessed....Full-time job, infant twins, type 1 diabetes, keeping up with the house....it’s all a bit too much for me. But it’s more than just that.

Something changed for me in 2009 even before I started blogging. I had always grappled and struggled with my creative side. I wanted to be an author, an artist, a photographer, an interior and graphic designer, a travel writer, a poet....I wanted it all. But couldn’t quite seem to make any of it actually happen.

I dreamt of the different books I would write. There’s one about a fantasy world I’ve imagined with pixies, magical dolphins, and imaginary places. And there’s another, a kids’ book that teaches life lessons with animals and stuff but is really an artist's tool kit.

And then there’s THE book. The big idea for a book that I’ve thought about for almost a decade. It’s a love story set in a bomb-shaken Middle East. I kind of think of it as a chick lit version of a New York Times article on Israel and the Arab world.

As time has passed, and I’ve pondered this book more and more, I realized that the goal of the book is to go beyond what people see on the news, make the Middle East relatable. And even more so, underneath the bombs and love story is a story that inspires people to find themselves, to live life more fully, and to find the real love that matters most – self-love.

And my ultimate goal for this book is to set off a spark of compassion in a really turbulent part of the world.

I thought about the book for almost four years before I could get it started. I was stuck. And then, I read a book that changed my life: A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle. Something sparked in me and after reading it, I signed up for a book writing class and started doing yoga on a regular basis.

I started writing my chick lit version of the Middle East that summer. I have 80 pages written.

I was on such an artist’s high. I had overcome some fears at last! And that’s when I started thinking about blogging. I wasn’t working on Mondays anymore, and I had a whole day to play. I had no excuses anymore. I had the time. The ideas. And the ability. I was going to be a book writer, a blogger, and maybe even write a few articles here and there.

I started blogging The Conscious Diabetic on November 2, 2009 with a goal in mind. I wanted to become a writer, but not just any kind of writer. I wanted to be a writer with purpose, passion, and compassion. And I wanted lots of readers.

I grappled over whether to write about diabetes or not. I didn’t want to complain about living with diabetes. I wanted to be held accountable for taking the challenges of living with diabetes and learning from them on living a better life. A more accepting of what is kind of life. And I have kept true to that with every single entry.

I created a routine to get myself in the right frame of mind before writing. Yoga, meditation, and tea. But most importantly, I had to let go of my ego.

Time passed. Life’s challenges gave me things to write about. I learned that I have celiac and started living a gluten-free life. It wasn’t easy. I decided to finally get past my fear of pregnancy, and well, now I have 10 month old twins. And there was the whole son with temporary special needs thing. He’s doing great by the way, and we still feel the needs are temporary.

And I’ve shared much of it with you. This blog has definitely held me accountable. Not only to write on a regular basis. But also to be an accepting of life as it is kind of person. To reflect. To learn. To keep myself inspired. And I’m honestly not always that person, but the blog reminds me to be. And I am so thankful for that. You have no idea.

This blog has seen over 5,300 visitors and 102 entries in the three and a half years I’ve been writing it. This blog has connected me with like-minded friends as well. I know that people are more open and sharing with me because I am more open and sharing with you. This blog has helped me with my career. This blog has helped me become a better writer. And a better person.

But there’s been one thing missing, one thing stuck in my mind. I wasn’t writing the Middle East love story. And I must write it. And in the four years that I’ve found myself as a writer, I have found that I don’t have the personal bandwidth to do both.

So I must pursue a dream. I’m going to make space in my life to write my dream novel by giving up this blog that has meant so much to me. I may come back, but I can’t promise. I have no plans. I may start a new blog, and I’ll let you know about it when I do.

But for now, I hope you will all stay in touch with me. I really value the friendships and connections I have made through this blog. It’s been priceless. Thank you.

How to deal with those really challenging moments

It's 4:50 am, and my son is spitting up bloody mucus. All over the crib, himself, and probably on me too. He's crying hysterically, turning bright red, gagging, and clearly in lots of pain. He stares at me, tears rolling down his face, with that look of, "Please save me," but I have to grab cloths and a decompression tube to clean out his tummy from all the toxins in his body. That's what helps him feel better the fastest.

And I'm tired. Fatigued. Exhausted. Especially because I myself was up vomiting the night before and had a fever all night long. One of those stomach flus that's been going around. On top of all this, I also started a new job two weeks ago. So I've been going through the typical mommy guilt and anxiety around leaving my kids in someone else's care. All day long. With not much of an idea of what's going on, and not much time in the day to check in.

And trying to keep up with it all. Making sure the kids are doing well. Making sure I'm doing well. Making sure work is going well. Making sure the house doesn't fall apart in the meantime. Oh yeah, and I'm married too, by the way. Fun, you ask, rest? Ha! What's that? The blog - once every two weeks - my therapy.

And I'm trying so hard to focus on helping my son at now 4:55 am. And I'm wondering, well, actually, I'm crying, "How are we going to get through this?"

And then I look behind me to see how Aria is doing. And she is staring at Ethan and me through her crib as she usually does when he has a bad episode, pacifier in mouth, and smiles from ear to ear when she sees me looking at her. I smile and give the moment a motherly, "shhh, go back to sleep, sweetie". And then I look back at Ethan, and he's kicking and smiling.

All better. The moment has passed. Time for me to clean up and try to get a few more minutes of sleep before getting up to get ready for work. I crawl back into bed - not really sleeping - until the alarm goes off.

I decide to e-mail my friend, a very spiritual and insightful person, in the early AM, and after a recap, I ask her: "How am I supposed to not go crazy from all of this?"

She must have written her reply while I was getting my breakfast together, "I think this is a lesson in stripping ego. Approach each moment with love."

I sit down with my yogurt and fruit. I also sprinkle in some flax seed and gluten-free granola. And I'm thinking, "How am I supposed to approach a 4:50 am nasty vomit session with love?"

So I respond to my friend, truly seeking her perpetual wisdom, and she says, "Honestly, I have to be authentic with you. I have no idea. I'd be annoyed."

Our situation has even stumped my friend who is one step away from enlightenment, and I go about my morning routine feeling miserable. Finish breakfast, brush my teeth, and go up to get the kids ready for the day.

And yes, I'll admit: I'm grunting, and I'm complaining - on the inside - about everything.

And then I see my kids. And yes, I'm sure you already predicted: They're smiling. Playing in their cribs. Happy to see me. And I can't help it. I just can't help it. Despite my misery, I smile back. And yes, actually, start singing songs. And chatting with them about whatever it is I chat with them about. Usually I give a running commentary on what we're doing. But sometimes I talk about how the cow goes "moo" and the train goes "choo choo", which is my son's personal favorite. And sometimes I sing sappy tunes for Aria, because they make her eyes sparkle.

I take them downstairs and start their breakfast until our nanny (who is great, by the way) shows up. And I'm sure you are thinking: I'm not going to feel bad for a person with a nanny. And I'm not asking you to. We need her. And where there's a will, there's a way.

Our nanny, a deeply spiritual and religious woman, rings the bell and after taking one look at me, asks if I can take the day off to rest. I can't. New job and all, I tell her.

And then she tells me that she's going to pray for us. She is going to pray for me. She is even going to have Aria bless me.

And then she says, "Do you want to know what makes me so successful at what I do? Why I have such a gift with kids?"

I'm listening.

"I approach each moment with love." There she said it. Exactly the same message my friend told me an hour or two before.

My heart got so warm and full of love in that moment. Is a message being sent to me from a Greater source? Could be. I know so. The coincidence was too real, too soon, too exact, and felt too good to hear - to not think it was a special message sent to us from Above.

The message: Even those seriously crappy moments, that seem to have no redeeming quality at all, can be approached with love. Must be approached with love. Are to be approached with love. Not sure why. Not sure how. And not so sure I'm supposed to be able to analyze it. Cause that's just what it is. And I knew I had to share it.

Genetics and accepting what is and what we don't know yet

When Ethan was born prematurely, and actually stopped growing when I was 26 weeks pregnant, the doctors at the NICU (newborn intensive care unit) thought that it was quite possible that diabetes is not what caused my son to stop growing in utero - but maybe, just maybe, he has a genetic disorder.

And the saga began...and still continues...of searching for a possible genetic link to my son's issues with eating and slower than expected growth.

A geneticist was given our case at the NICU, early on when Ethan was still struggling to stay alive. And to be totally honest, I was so focused on other things, like my son's survival and him coming home and also taking care of my daughter who was newly born and adjusting to being a new mom, that I didn't pay much attention to the geneticist.

And to be honest, I didn't want to.

She examined him. Her perceptions: He's small. Uh yeah, thanks. We know that. And she decided to run some tests. The results came back with weird results that left the doctors scratching their heads.

And that's when the excruciatingly, long story of my son's possible genetic disorder began. And that's also when we were made aware of what she was suspecting.

They thought he may have some form of dwarfism.

We were shocked. We do have genetic diseases that run in our family - diabetes being the first that comes to mind and celiac being the second. My husband's family has a ton of lactose intolerance and milk allergies. But I've never known anyone in either of our families to have dwarfism.

My intuition told me - and everyone in my world - that they were totally off on their genetic research quest. And forgetting a mother's intuition for a moment, we were actually told - by a number of other doctors and specialists - that the tests that were run aren't real. Why? Science hasn't thought to measure a "normal" range for growth hormone in babies - let alone premature babies - or other related tests (like IGF-1). So if they're not real, then why run them? Because that's what doctors do and many times, it helps. In our case though, it just left everyone stumped. The reason: Ethan's growth hormone was considered high, not low like in the majority of dwarfism cases, and he was small.

I felt and still feel that the lab results were off because he was born so small and fighting hard to survive. So his chemistry was a bit out of whack. I'm not a doctor, nor are my theories scientific or published in journals, but it's just a feeling I had. The other prevailing theory for his GI issues and slower than expected growth - and which totally makes complete sense to me - is that because he was born small, his digestive system was also very small when he was born. He developed really bad reflux. And reflux is KNOWN for being linked to feeding issues. Take the pain of reflux coupled with his premature size, and boom - feeding issues.

And for all of you diabetics out there considering pregnancy: I think he was also born small, and stopped growing in utero at 26 weeks, because I have had Type 1 diabetes for over 35 years, and my body just couldn't handle twins, pregnancy, and all that was involved. I had a tough first trimester, a great second, and a shortened and difficult third. But please, knowing what I know and being what I've been through, I wouldn't change it for the world. I have two beautiful babies that I love with all my heart. All children, and people, are handed a set of challenges in life - whether they are born to diabetics or not, premature or not - and the best we can do is face them, accept what life hands us, and learn.

Going back to Ethan and the story of genetics: I spoke with many specialists, cried to my close family and a few friends, read up on the internet, and paced the halls of our home at 3 am for months. The pain of not knowing, the fear of what may or may not be, was overwhelming to me. I was worried. I was soul searching. And I was praying for the best outcome possible.

I was crying to my husband, who so eloquently said: "Whether he has a genetic disorder or not, he is still the same Ethan."

He was right. Ethan, no matter what, is still the same lovable boy. And that's when it hit me. His words had helped me come to a place of acceptance.

I had made a pledge, set an intention, when I was pregnant that I would support both of our children's individual journeys. That I would be there for them and be present with them and who they are, listen to them, smile with them, and teach them to be grateful every day.

Ethan was re-tested and measured and x-rayed and scanned. And all of those wacky tests that made no sense to me the first time, when I was in a place of resistance, came back negative.

The geneticist wanted to do her due diligence though. She was convinced that something was wrong, that Ethan has a genetic disorder, and she was scared that if there is something, that she might not find it. She wanted to run more tests, an in depth look at his entire genetic make-up. The test - called a Chromosome Micro-array - costs around $100,000, and is performed RARELY.

That test also came back with inconclusive results. Nothing was missing, and there was nothing extra. A few homozygous chains, which every human being on the planet has. (What are Homozygous chromosomes? It's when you have identical pairs of genes for any given pair of hereditary characteristics. For example, if you had a double dose of brown hair in your DNA.)

Guess what? That is what makes us unique and different. No one has a perfect genetic make-up.

She is still searching, and wants us to run more tests. In the meanwhile, we've decided to see another geneticist for a second opinion. We are going to run the tests, mainly because I'm a mom and if there is something to be found, I want to be sure we know about it. So that we can manage it.

My gut still tells me that he was simply born small, and as he grows, the reflux, feeding issues, and all that is related to that, will work itself out. BUT, you never know. And as parents, we want to be sure to give our child the best we can. We want to support him and Aria through whatever they need.

And what Ethan has given me, through this whole experience, is a real lesson in acceptance - even when you don't know what you are accepting. I don't know if I'm accepting a genetic disorder or not. What I do know is that resisting it won't help him, me, or anyone else.

Life coach and Oprah magazine columnist Martha Beck wrote a great article once that has stayed with me, A New Leash on Life. She was pregnant with her second child when late in the pregnancy, an amniocentesis showed that her son has Down's syndrome.

Beck had the difficult decision of whether to abort or not. And after much soul searching, she felt strongly that she wanted to continue with the pregnancy despite many people telling her not to. Telling her what a difficult task it is to raise a child with special needs.

And he wound up being the greatest gift.

She spoke of all the lessons she learned, that I am learning as well, about not being a victim of your thoughts. I do tend to conjure up images and stories that are usually based on fear of what may or may not be. And we really don't know what will be. So the best thing we can do is accept what is, and get out of our heads.

Martha Beck learned lessons that opened up her world. She credits her success, abundance, and love of life to the lessons she learned from raising her son with Down's Syndrome.

I feel the same way. I have changed as a person so much since this experience began, and I bet there's more in store. I have learned to savor special moments and to stay in the moment during challenging times. I have listened and trusted my intuition more than I ever have in my life, and I actually feel much more self-confident. And I am also finding myself - just as Martha Beck did - becoming more successful, more abundant, and loving life more and more. I have everything I could ever want and need, and I KNOW that it's from the lessons I've learned through this whole experience. I have Ethan and Aria to thank for opening up my world to so much.

Hey there, geneticists, what you got for me now?

Healing messages: A break from the stress

My body has been breaking down since having our two amazing kids, who are going to be eight months old in two days. And I have been trying to figure out what’s going on and how to heal and mend my aching body.

Let me start by telling you what’s wrong: I’m pretty sure I have carpal tunnel syndrome in my right hand, trigger finger in my right pinky, and loss of range of motion in my right hip.

I am not the type of person who gets a headache and just takes an aspirin. I see a headache as a symptom of something deeper – emotionally and spiritually. It’s the body’s way of shouting out a message for spiritual and emotional healing. And if you don’t listen, the body continues to break down until you finally listen and do something about it.

Because I know that our bodies speak to us and enlighten us to a deeper understanding of our true selves, I started my quest for healing alternative style. I did make an appointment with a rheumatologist because I want to be thorough and do whatever I can to help my body heal, but I’m also going gung-ho on the alternative approach as well, as I am certain that my body is trying to tell me something.

I started by asking the Universe (or God, whatever you call it): How can I heal my right hip?

And my intuition told me very clearly that yoga and meditation would help. I also heard reiki, and did start seeing a reiki master. It’s an AMAZING experience, which I’ll save for its own blog post once I’ve come to some clarity on what to say.

On yoga and meditation: I returned to my yoga practice as soon as I could after my c-section, and I have been doing a lot of hip opener sequences. I have been meditating as well, listening to the different areas of my body – especially during yoga – and also visualizing myself, with the flexibility of a yogi, doing lotus poses with ease.

I also saw myself having a conversation with my son Ethan while meditating. Ethan was born very small and in the NICU for three and a half months. We went on a really scary and rough road with him. But he’s doing really, really well. I had to process everything that had happened, and I apologized to him during the meditation. I felt guilty for what he went through, since I feel responsible for it. I also purposefully re-lived some of the trauma of the pregnancy, birth, and aftermath. I would love to be able to find the words to describe to you how important it was to meditate on the experience, and I am going to continue until I feel at complete peace with everything that happened. But I can tell you that today, I feel so much stronger and calmer than I ever have in my life.

My intuition told me very clearly that my right hip was storing a lot of stress and mind chatter around the whole experience of what happened with my son. And looking back on it, actually, my right hip lost its flexibility a few weeks after the c-section. So my intuition made a lot of sense.

I came to another realization a week ago: All of the aches and pains are on the right side of my body. It seems so obvious now, but it took me a while to figure that out. There’s meaning behind that.

Looking at it from a Western medicine perspective, the right side of the body is controlled by the left brain. It’s the side that controls language, rational and logical thought, the side that categorizes things, and writes to-do lists. From a Chinese medicine perspective, it’s the masculine side – the more aggressive side; while the left side of the body is the feminine – the passive side. The right brain is creative, abstract, and emotional and controls the left side of the body. And whenever those two sides of our inner selves are out of balance – the body gets out of balance as well.

My spiritual diagnosis is clear:

1) I still haven’t fully come to terms with what happened with Ethan. And I’m not afraid to say it out loud to all of you. I haven’t let it all go yet, although I thought I had.

2) On top of that, I’ve been in “doing” overload since the babies were born. No more resting on Saturday and Sunday mornings. I wake up early and change diapers and feed babies – happily, mind you, but it’s tiring. The stress of not sleeping. The stress of not having time to unwind, be more creative, meditate more consistently. I’m stuck in what seems to be an endless stream of to-do lists. I am doing too much. Not resting enough. And quite frankly, it’s really hard to find time to rest when you’re juggling taking care of twins (one of whom has some temporary special needs), keeping up with the house, going to doctors’ appointments with two other little people to think about, and managing my diabetes and health. Oh yeah, that.

My body is screaming that I need a break, a chance to rest and restore. And also a chance to process and let go of everything that happened.

So I put it out there: How is a mom of twins with diabetes supposed to find the time to rest and restore AND take care of things at the same time? How are we all supposed to find the balance between doing and getting things done AND taking care of our health and wellness?

Here’s what I heard: Let go of the mind chatter and go with the flow. And savor the moments when you do have peace and calm. The more you savor them, the more you create the energy of peace and calm in your life.

505 and the calmness of a deep blue lake

I have not forgotten about this blog! That I promise you. I truly enjoy writing, and I love the conversations that this blog generates with all of you. I am finding it challenging though to write every week and take care of Ethan and Aria, who are all but seven months old. So, I have decided to start blogging every other week rather than weekly, with posts still on Mondays. Enjoy! - Ophir

505 and the calmness of a deep blue lake

I didn’t write last Monday for one simple reason: My blood sugar went all the way up to 505. It was scary. Not only because I care about my health and my diabetes, but also because I have the babies to think about. And high sugars like that could land me in the emergency room if not treated immediately.

Numbers like those happen to me very rarely, but I have my "Back to Normal BGs" strategy down to a science. The kids were napping, and so I changed my pump site immediately. The culprit was clear: A faulty infusion set. The canula was bent. I injected a correction bolus with a syringe and even threw away the old vial of insulin just in case. I changed infusion sites, also just in case.

And then I freaked. Usually I lay on the couch and rest drinking diet ginger ale while I wait for my sugars to go back to normal. The last time this happened was 2008, and so I didn’t have ginger ale lying around the house. And I also had no chance of resting on the couch for more than 15 minutes.

And in the midst of all of my panic on what to do and how to find help, I also thought about this blog. And how another week would go by without a posting. Without me writing about, ironically enough, living with diabetes consciously, in a balanced, healthy way.

I had been debating that morning about a blog topic. I knew I wanted to write about a Buddhist meditation on the deep blue lake and was looking for my own real life example. The gist of the meditation: Wind, rain, storm, or sun, the depths of a lake are still, unwavering, and serene despite what is happening on the surface. According to Buddhism, that stillness - deep inside - is a metaphor for your spirit.

I was trying to think of my own story to tie into the meditation when I went to check my sugar. And boom, there it was 505. At the time, I didn’t see it as a writing opportunity. I was not calm and serene like a deep blue lake. I was crying. I was crying that I couldn’t think of who to call for help that lived close by. And I was ready to move next door to my parents like in Everybody Loves Raymond. Or, to Allentown, PA (which is really not my style and yes, it's very far away from us) to be near where my husband works.

But rather than pack my bags, I did have enough wits about me to call my husband and a friend of mine to brainstorm a solution. I wound up calling a friend who left work to help me. She brought me two cases of diet ginger ale. I don’t know why. But it helps me. And I called my neighbor who came over within seconds to help me with the kids. She and I sat for a few hours and had a lovely conversation, and she told me to always feel free to pick up the phone and call her. The kids had a great time with her. And she even brought over some music CDs for the kids to play along to. My sugar dropped back to normal within a few hours. And everything wound up being more than okay.

By the end of the day, I realized that I had my real life example for this blog. It was clearly not an example of how to implement the meditation effectively. But rather, an example of a time when it could have helped. I had allowed the stuff on the surface get the better of me when things were rough. Rather than tap into the stillness of the lake for a bit of calm despite the craziness.

You see, the stuff on the surface changes all the time. One minute, the weather might be rainy and the next sunny without a cloud in the sky. But the depths of the lake always remain the same. Just like our inner spirits. We should all tap into that stillness when things on the surface get rough. It helps the stuff on the outside go much smoother, much easier, because it comes from a place of peace and acceptance.

I’ll see you all again in two weeks.

Turning perfectionism into optimalism

I’ve always been a bit of an idealist and a dreamer, and now my daughter is teaching me that what I thought was dreamy and romantic has always been perfectionism in disguise.

My perfectionism permeates every part of my life. And when it comes to health and living with diabetes, I have grand expectations of myself. I will go to great lengths to cure my body, live in perfect health, and have amazing blood sugars. But then, I get completely frustrated after pricking my finger and seeing a high or low sugar. I think about how I exercised and ate just right, counted my carbs and yet my sugars don’t always hit the perfect mark. And then whatever joy I had in what I was doing or whomever I was with at the time disappears and turns to stress and anxiety. And well, unhappiness.

I didn’t really think that I was such a big-time perfectionist though until I was watching my baby daughter Aria play, and I saw some of my own traits in her. That’s when the light bulb went off.

I was trying to figure out her frustrations. Babies nowadays are given tummy time since they sleep on their backs all night. And they sleep for something like sixteen hours a day. That’s a lot of time on your back! Time on their tummies is precious as it helps them learn a bunch of things like crawling and rolling over. Sounds nice huh? Yeah, well, because they spend much of their time on the backs, they don’t really like being on their tummies. And boy do they complain about it.

Aria has slowly gotten used to being on her tummy as she’s gotten stronger. And she has been rolling from her back to her tummy for over a month now. But after a few minutes on her tummy, she gets very frustrated and starts to scream. I figured she just didn’t like it, and so I showed her how to roll back. But then she’d roll back to her tummy again five seconds later. An automatic reflex? Probably. Babies tend to try to do things until they’ve mastered it. But then my husband noticed that she would make motions with her hands on the floor, kick her legs, and that she was staring straight ahead as though on a quest to get somewhere else. My husband realized immediately that she was trying to crawl.

I was amazed that she was even trying to crawl because she’s only six and a half months old. Actually she’s five and a half months old if you calculate her corrected age (which you do when a baby is born premature). And crawling is a nine-month old baby milestone. And then I realized – she was trying really hard to do something unrealistic for her age. It could very well be normal baby behavior, although my son doesn’t act that way. Each baby does develop differently. But what gets me is how frustrated she gets that she can’t do it yet. Where did she learn that from? Of course I first assumed that she had learned it from my husband. But then I realized: Had she learned to be a perfectionist like me?

I wasn’t searching for an answer when I found it. I was randomly reading a selection entitled “Perfectionism and Optimalism” from Even Happier by Tal Ben-Shahar, positive psychologist and the teacher of the most popular course at Harvard.

“The key difference,” between the perfectionist and optimalist, Ben-Shahar writes, is that “the former essentially rejects reality while the latter accepts it.” He says that the perfectionist expects “her path toward any goal – and indeed, her entire journey through life-to be direct, smooth, and free of obstacles.” And when things don’t turn out as a perfectionist had planned, she is extremely frustrated and has difficulty coping. And that could describe my daughter’s bout with trying to crawl at five and a half months of age – and my, well, entire approach to life - to a tee.

An even happier way to approach life is as an optimalist – a person who accepts obstacles as a natural part of life’s journey. “She understands that failure to get the job she wanted or getting into a fight with her spouse is part and parcel of a full and fulfilling life; she learns what she can from these experiences and emerges stronger and more resilient.”

Ben-Shahar tells us that perfectionists pay a high emotional price. Their rejection of failure leads to anxiety. They tend to set unrealistic standards for success. And because they never meet these standards, they “are constantly plagued by feelings of frustration and inadequacy.”

Optimalists on the other hand derive great emotional benefit, according to Ben-Shahar, and are able to lead rich and very fulfilling lives by accepting that failure is natural. “They experience less performance anxiety and derive more enjoyment from their activities.” They set goals they can actually attain because they are aware of their limitations.

I would like to learn to be more like an optimalist. Not only for my daughter’s sake, but for mine as well. Ben-Shahar suggests a mindful approach to turning perfectionism into optimalism, such as journaling on areas where you are a perfectionist and areas where you tend to be more like an optimalist.

I can say that I’m a perfectionist when it comes to art and design, and I am an optimalist when I write. Which may be why I write, but don’t paint or draw even though I want to. I can’t help but wonder: What would I be doing if perfectionism – or fear of failure – wasn’t holding me back?

I heard myself saying to Aria the other day, “You can do it. Keep practicing. Rome wasn’t built in a day.” Perhaps I should take the words I use to encourage my daughter – for myself.

Fall detox gone....bad?

I have been looking for ways to clear the inflammation and pain in my right hip (I lost range of motion after a c-section in May), and I got my inspiration to try an Ayurvedic fall detox from wellness coach and stage 4 breast cancer survivor Kris Carr last week while reading the October edition of Yoga Journal.

“Inflammation is stress that comes from what you’re eating, drinking, and thinking, and it’s a root cause of chronic disease.” She promotes plant-based diets in her interview to balance your body’s pH, while decreasing acidic foods like animal products, processed sugars, and starches. “But it’s not just what we’re eating that affects our health; it’s also what’s eating us – how well we sleep, sweat, and love, and whether or not we’re committing to our Down Dogs.”

I grappled. I couldn’t see myself adopting a plant-based, vegan diet as a lifestyle. I like steak, yogurt, cakes, and cookies. Oh yeah, she also says to ditch the dairy (animal product). I have no problem with doing yoga, meditating, or loving. I never had a problem with sleep until I got pregnant, but I’m sure I can get that back again once the kids sleep through the night without a peep – hopefully that’ll be some time soon. But no animal products or starches? Yikes.

I thought I’d do a detox instead since it might bring me the peace and balance that I am looking for, and hopefully reduce the inflammation in my hip. But it’s not a permanent life change, although could inspire some changes.

The Ayurvedic fall detox, also found in the October edition, has a few steps: 1. Slowing down – purposefully; 2. The Detox diet; 3. Cleansing daily yoga; 4. Self-study/reflection.

I didn’t have any appointments scheduled last week, and so I thought it was the perfect time to give it a go. The diet consists of ginger tea, carrot-ginger soup, beans, and a dish called Kitchari, made of rice and mung beans made throughout Asia to purify the body. I asked my husband, a great cook, to make enough for four days, and I bought organic brands of the rest. Yoga Journal provides daily yoga videos on-line, and I scheduled a babysitter so that I could sit for an hour on Wednesday and meditate in nature and journal on finding peace and balance.

Determined to find “the answer” to everything that is challenging me these days, I set out on the detox religiously. I ate the kitchari twice a day as advised and drank unsweetened ginger tea and did the yoga videos. At first I didn’t notice any difference, but by the end of the first day, I noticed that my day flowed so easily. I was, dare I say, happy. I felt less encumbered by silly mind ramblings and rants. The kids were happier too. They were eating well, sleeping hard, and playing happily. I was writing better and finding time to do everything I had in mind for the day without stressing about it. I began to organize things around the house and even cleaned a bit. By the second day, I set out to conquer a fear of mine. This may sound silly, but I took my six month old twins out all on my own to run some errands despite some really, really bad experiences doing so in the past.

By the third day, I was more focused on how hungry I was than on peace and a flexible hip. And the kitchari, well to be polite, is not my taste. Okay, let’s just be blunt: It’s really nasty and bland. I added salt. Not very mindfully detox of me. But I added salt, and it still tasted nasty and bland. I reflected by the river that morning, and got the answers I was looking for. I felt like I had done what I needed to do. And so by the end of day three, I made myself eggs and toast for dinner. By day four, I had re-introduced yogurt and had salmon for dinner. By day five, I was eating meat again and didn’t even do yoga that morning. By day six, my hip was bothering me again. I even had a bad episode over the weekend and started complaining again about stress.

How did my fall detox go...bad? Well, you could just say that the kitchari was nasty and I was hungry. But I’m pretty sure there’s more to it than that. Perhaps a bit of self-sabotage? What would I do with my life...what would I think about....if I was actually happy, at peace, and balanced? Bottom line: I bolted. And there's always a reason, a lesson, when we self-sabotage. When we reach for a cookie when we're on a diet, or when we don't finish a project we know will be good for us and others.

So what’s a girl to do? Accept that life is not all roses. Challenges are a part of life. And to be mindful that sometimes we stray. And learn the lesson.

Keeping up with the milestones

Does your baby roll over yet? Sleep through the night? Eat solids? How much does your kid weigh? How much tummy time do you give your baby?

I have been thinking a lot about weight gain and milestones lately. Mainly because just about every pediatric doctor, specialist, and physical therapist that I have encountered has made a point of me thinking about it. And, to be totally honest, because a few friends of mine have given birth to healthy babies, full term ones, around the same time that Ethan and Aria were born. And so I’ve been stressing about catching up my kids to the other full-term babies. On top of that, the doctors give me homework to do with my almost six month old kids and instructions and follow-up appointments. And not to divulge too much, but we see quite a number of doctors and physical therapists as a result of Ethan’s pre-maturity and being born very small.

So now I’m constantly tracking their corrected age in relation to their developmental stages, and then calculating it in relation to their chronological age. And plotting their weights on growth charts. And waiting for a doctor not to say, “We need to catch him up.” But rather, “He’s exactly where he should be.” Let alone, "Wow, your child is a genius. You better start saving for Harvard now!"

I do not take E’s and A’s development lightly. At all. I appreciate modern medicine – A LOT. And I appreciate the experience that our children’s healthcare team bring to the table. But won’t my children learn to sit even if I don’t buy some special sitter? Does it really matter if they roll over at seven months instead of at six months?

We’re in this constant state of playing catch up that I eagerly want to resolve itself. I'm sick of the doctors, as helpful and supportive as they are. I'm sick of the pressure, the worry, the stress. I'm sick of fretting before each appointment over what they will say and have me do this time.

I'd much rather prefer allowing the journey to unfold naturally, going with the flow, but it’s really hard to do when you have a slew of people checking in with you on your child’s development a few times a week.

Here's the lesson I'm grappling with: I am learning to accept the journey - all of it.

Acceptance doesn't mean resigning yourself to your life situation, according to author of Power of Now Eckhart Tolle. You obviously need to do something about it when faced with challenging situations. Acceptance means facing whatever is happening to you - internally and externally. This can apply to any of life's situations - career, relationships, health/diabetes.

And in my case these days, it's about allowing my children to develop at their own pace. When they’re ready to move to the next step (which happens so fast anyway). And I suppose the doctors are a part of that journey too. As are the moms of full-term babies. The appointments, the homework, the activities, and the letting them be who they are.

There's a lesson in all of it. On living life to the fullest. On not resisting what life hands you and your loved ones. On facing what happens to you, accepting it, and doing something about it.

Ending the war on feeding issues

Ethan and Aria were born five and a half months ago, and food and feeding issues have re-arisen to the top of my things to think about. And conquer.

Feeding takes on an entirely new meaning when you have two little people totally dependent on you for sustenance. And along with the obvious – meaning feed them - comes how to help them feel better when they have feeding issues like gas or needs a diaper change or bigger concerns.

Aria has taught me quite a bit about eating healthy. She knows exactly what she needs to eat to gain exactly the right amount of weight. While with Ethan, we have gone through an incredibly frustrating and grueling five or so months of trying to figure out why he isn’t eating what he needs to gain a healthy weight and catch up to others his age (he was born premature and very small). We are pretty sure that we’ve figured it out: Turns out that he’s a lactose intolerant foodie who likes to snack sometimes.

But ending the war on feeding issues isn’t only about the kids. My relationship with food has long been an issue for me, as I believe it has been for just about everyone on the planet whether they’re aware of it or not. The babies’ relationship with food, and the need to think about it more than I ever would for myself, has brought to light my own relationship with food. And I’m the better for it. Because now I can declare, I have ended my own war with feeding issues and my body.

Geneen Roth, author of Women, Food, and God says it best. We all have a relationship with food and eating that is reflective of how we approach life and our values.

I’ll share with you a smidgen of my own saga. Food has been the bane of my existence and also my savior, a source for strength and comfort, and a passion. I love food, especially really good food, and I also feel guilty because of food, like I’m never quite eating just right. Diabetes and celiac comes with restrictions and rules. You need to eat just the right amounts and right kinds or your body goes haywire. I know this, and I want to be fit and healthy. I feel better when I am. But when I see a beautiful meal, I can’t help but indulge a bit. And like many people, I also see food as love and family. I socialize around it. Holiday dinners revolve around food. I try to be conscious of what I’m eating, and yet somehow, it never turns out quite right. A sugar goes high, the weight doesn’t go down, but I also want to sit around the table with family and friends and enjoy. And then the guilt enters, the feeling bad about myself, the perfectionist that is me.

Alright, so how did I get from there to now? The end of my own personal war with food?

I was obsessing over Ethan’s feeding issues. I cannot even begin to describe to you how difficult dealing with an infant’s feeding issues is. Babies can’t really tell you what’s bothering them, and days are filled with crying and discomfort. So you have to observe closely, read the signs and symptoms, and try things out. We tried a lot of things out – from gas drops to tests and medications for reflux. But I’ll talk more about that another time. The point is: We needed it to be resolved. For his health. And for our health. And all of our sanity. Bottom line: He wasn’t reaching his potential because he wasn’t getting the proper nutrition, and it weighed down on all of us.

I would pray, meditate, journal, talk about it, talk about it again, then cry about it, pray some more, do some yoga, journal. And then I asked for spiritual guidance. Which I tend to do under these kinds of circumstances. And I got it.

First, his feeding issues are his journey, and I can’t control it. I need to go with the flow, and listen closely to my intuition.

And, I can use the opportunity to learn what I can about my own issues with food. I decided to re-visit Geneen Roth’s book in audio form.

Then the answers started coming regarding Ethan. We tried a lactose free formula. There are a number of them, and quite frankly they really stink. I mean they smell really bad. And he didn’t like them. We tried three until we found one that he likes. And bingo, he’s eating like a champ.

And as the answers were coming to us about Ethan, the answers were coming to me as well. I went to the mall one day for a break.

I was so tired from the sleepless nights and very long, tiring days. I asked for spiritual guidance again. Not about me or my own feeding issues. Just a general, I need help. Please. Now. I begged for a cleaner and two live-in nannies. To win the lottery. To have a house large enough for the live-in nannies. To have my life back again.

I was wandering aimlessly around Barnes and Noble thinking about these two amazing kids, but not really figuring out where I should go or what I should do. And I remembered something my doctor said to me, the OB/GYN who delivered the twins. He told me that we had been through so much, and it’s my job now to transform all of the fear of losing him and everything we went through with him at the NICU for three and a half months - to joy. He said, "What's the point of having kids if you aren't going to feel joy?"

That statement stuck with me. Why was I having such trouble transforming it to joy? And I realized that I’ve always been like this though, haven’t I? Never quite satisfied, always looking for trouble and obsessing over fixing it.

I walked out into the main part of the mall and sat on a bench for a moment to rest. And then I looked up and saw a large sign in one of the store windows: Get over it.

Those words stuck with me, but still didn’t quite penetrate. The hint hadn’t quite sunk in yet. Not until I left the mall and went out to my car to go home. I put on the audio CD of Geneen Roth’s Women, Food, and God, and sure enough, the first words I heard were, “Chapter Two: Ending the war.”

I didn’t need to hear anything else. What am I fighting for? I can choose my own battles with myself. And I choose peace of mind. I had been searching for some magical antidote. A message like: Go to five sessions of reiki and all of your problems will be solved. It doesn’t quite work like that though. And to be honest, I wasn’t even thinking about my relationship with food or my body, even though I was listening to a book about Women, Food, and God. I was actually listening to it more for an epiphany regarding Ethan – not me.

I decided that day to end the war. I wasn’t sure exactly which war. But it was going to end. I decided to stop battling with myself.

A few days later, I realized that I actually love my body. I hadn’t been searching for that. And I realized that it felt really good to feel that way for the first time in my life. Alas, the war has ended.

Relief from suffering and pain and my kids’ vomiting

Have you ever seen a baby vomit? I apologize for the goriness, but Ethan has been vomiting frequently. (More on this in a later blog, but we’re working on figuring out the cause.) Aria vomits too, but not nearly as often.

I was quite traumatized the first time I saw each vomit until I mastered the whole process. But I still worry and stress over the what’s, why’s, who’s, etc. What’s causing it? Why is it happening? How can I make it stop? Who do I turn to for help? And so on. A couple of trips to the pediatrician later, and we now know that Aria’s is nothing to worry about, and we’re still working on figuring out Ethan’s.

As for the process, Aria’s vomit just kind of happens. There’s no prelude or warnings. She vomits, and then looks stunned for half a second. I take her to clean her up and change clothes, and sure enough, she’s laughing and kicking around within seconds.

It’s more or less the same thing with Ethan. Only with him, there’s warning. We run to the sink. He gags and vomits. Sometimes he just gags. He looks as though he’s in pain. He vomits. Maybe a second or third time. He cries. We calm him and soothe him. And then we take him to get cleaned up and changed. And he’s smiling and kicking around again after a few minutes. And that’s pretty much it.

The pain is temporary. Lasts a millisecond with Aria and maybe a few minutes with Ethan. They move on. They’re ready to play again. All smiles.

But not with me. I see the vomit coming. I run for dear life to make sure that minimal damage is done to the house. I’ve had to clean the couches, carpets, my clothing, and their chairs way too many times for my liking at this point. And then there’s the stress of leaving one of them downstairs alone – sometimes in the middle of a feeding - while I take the other upstairs to clean and change. I try to rush to make sure that no one is traumatized or in hysterics because they were left alone while moments before they were enjoying a bottle. And then I think for days about what could have caused the vomit. I speak with the pediatrician and my husband, and we go over all of the scenarios over and over again. To be honest, I don’t even bother calling anymore. I check for temperature sometimes. Nope, no signs of illness. My husband wants to build an excel spreadsheet to pinpoint trends and try to diagnose it. And I pray to God every morning, “Let this be a vomit-free day.”

It totally stresses me out... and they’re playing.

Just to state the obvious: Babies’ brains aren’t as developed as ours; their ego minds haven’t developed at this stage. And so what may seem to be a worrisome event to us is just another blip in time for them. And as a mother who worries – a lot about everything – I am trying to come to some kind of emotional peace with this. I don’t know if I can spend the remainder of my life freaking out all the time about their health. Or perhaps more realistically, I can at least find a way to tone it down. Have some relative peace of mind.

I was thinking about the peace I'm seeking the other day, and I had this gut feeling to Google the word “control” on Oprah.com. And sure enough, I found a really great article by Martha Beck, “Get a New Leash on Life” from the August 2002 edition of Oprah Magazine, which I strongly recommend reading.

In it, Beck looks at different kinds of pain and how we can find some solace. She writes that psychologists call my kind of suffering “dirty” pain. In the case of the vomiting, the kids have “clean” pain, which is what we feel when something hurtful happens to us. That blip in time.

She explains, “Dirty pain is the result of our thoughts about how wrong this is, how it proves we-and life- are bad.” Such as the anguish of why the vomit happened, how we can change it, the should’s and could’s. I must confess that I have turned the vomiting in my mind into a really, really big deal. It may in fact be a symptom of something greater – like reflux or a food allergy – but my thoughts and worry around it does not help.

Beck’s article continues, “The two kinds of suffering occupy different sections of the brain: One part simply registers events, while another creates a continuous stream of thoughts about those events. The vast majority of our unhappiness comes from this secondary response – not from painful reality but from painful thoughts about reality.”

When we dwell, discuss, stress about, create stories that may have no basis in reality. Beck tells us that this happens when we try to control – through our thoughts – what we really can’t control.

This doesn’t only apply to physical pain, but also to emotional pain like from a job lay off, a bad breakup, the stress before a surgery or after you’ve already recuperated, the angst when trying to make a big decision, or fretting over a fight with a loved one. The event itself only lasts a few seconds. But the feelings about it will last as long as you let it.

Buddhists, Kabbalists, new age followers, and yogis have been saying for years, suffering ends when we learn to detach from thinking mind. The way to do that is to realize that our thoughts aren’t the truth. It’s what we’ve created, a story we’ve told ourselves. And the way to detach from those thoughts is through presence – such as focusing on your breath, listening to your heartbeat, observing your thoughts, or observing what’s right in front of you. Is there anything wrong at this very moment? Probably not.

Beck goes on to say that even experiences we once feared and hated may become opportunities to awaken our capacity for joy. Because once you become comfortable with uncertainty, the world opens.

Is this was a long way to go from my children’s vomiting? I don't think so. It's these every day events that show us our true selves and also show us where there's work to be done in living life to the fullest. It’s just another example of how we, how I, create thoughts that aren’t necessarily true.

I’m getting better at handling the vomit. I’m taking it as it comes and dealing with it, although still praying to God every morning for vomit-free days. We’re doing everything we can to help Ethan move past it and feel better. And hey, this could be an opportunity to get some new couches. One thing I'm learning for sure is that the world really does open up once you let go of control.

Savoring each moment

Twins are a challenge to raise. I love them dearly (goes without saying), but I have to admit that I have been obsessively wondering: When does this get easier? When does raising newborn twins, while also trying to somehow take care of myself, a house, and the rest of life, get easier?

I take this question very seriously. I refuse to just give in and be a blithering, tired mom for the next however many years. So I decided to search for the answer.

I started a few months ago (while I was still pregnant) by reading parenting books in search for clear directions on parenting success – and even more so, parenting twins sanely. I read (and am still reading) the oracle of parenting: “What to Expect the First Year,” as well as other books like “Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child,” by Marc Weissbluth (sleep is a big deal for newborns and their parents) and “Having Twins,” by Elizabeth Noble, among many more. But alas, even those incredibly popular books gave lots of options and choices without one real true definitive path to sane twin parenting.

I have implemented many of the suggestions, the ones that make sense, and yet, I am still completely and absolutely worn out. And actually, I just read last night in "Having Twins" that things will only get tougher once the kids are eating solids and moving. Solids are tough because it's more work and messy. Moving is tough because they just move in different directions and not know yet that certain things are dangerous. That obviously did not make me feel better.

So I turned to friends and relatives, especially other parents of twins. I received many different answers to the “When does it get easier” question. Some told me that it gets easier when children reach three or four years old when they are less physically dependent, but then the same people told me that at that age, the physical stress turns to emotional stuff. Some say it all gets easier when you start sleeping through the night when children reach two or three years old. Some say when they’re 18 and leave the house for college. While others say when they get married and then it becomes someone else’s problem.

So basically we're talking anywhere from three to eighteen to twenty plus years from today. And I don't think I'll last that long!

I was feeding the twins (at the same time) when the answer hit me: I wasn’t asking the right question. What I should be asking is: How do I make this moment easier?
I keep trying to rush past all of this, and amazingly enough, it’s one of the most fulfilling and joyful times of my life. I’m trying to jump eighteen years ahead instead of simply savoring the moment I’m in.

The twins are growing and developing each day. And this is it. This is my chance to experience what it’s like to be raising these amazing four and a half month old babies. Life is transient. And soon they’ll be five months old, and I won’t be able to go back again to this day. So, I’d better savor it. I’d better live for the moment.

Getting over “oh poor baby”

Worried sick. That’s what I’ve been. Picking him up at every whimper to coddle him. He needs extra loving care. He is traumatized by everything that’s happened to him. Oh, poor baby.

Those are definitely the thoughts and language that I’ve been using when talking about Ethan since he stopped growing in utero at 26 weeks and was born very, very, very small. And then spent three and a half months in the NICU (newborn intensive care unit).

He’s doing great now. He’s been home for three weeks and thriving. Yet, I have definitely had those “oh poor baby” thoughts despite all of this. Despite the doctors telling me that he looks great. Despite the dramatic improvement in how our son interacts with us and his sister.

I came to realize that the “oh poor baby” mentality is not fair to him, or his sister for that matter, this weekend when he was crying hysterically.

Well not to confuse everybody, but the "ah ha" moment actually started because of Aria. (I'll get back to Ethan's freak-out session in a minute.) She's been really fussy lately. Rebelling, perhaps? And I was wondering what's going on with her. Is it normal baby stuff like gas, hunger of tiredness? Or is she wondering why she's not the sole center of attention anymore? So I asked Lior, "Am I treating them differently?"

I realized that I was. When Aria is fussy and needs to be held, I say to myself, "Oh she needs a swaddle and a pacifier. I'll pick her up and hold her." When Ethan cries, I frantically wonder "Oh my God, what's wrong with him? I don't know what to do. Is he okay? What do I do? What do I do?"

And in that moment when I was freaking out because Ethan was freaking out (and Aria was burying herself in her swaddle to drown out the noise), I realized that I wasn't helping him by freaking out and imposing on him the "oh poor baby" mentality. "He needs to be treated differently."

It dawned on me that I am really not helping him (or myself) emotionally either. I'm the mom. He is four months old. He needs me, just as she does, to take control of the situation and figure out how to help him. And not to freak out, because then they will freak out. A cough is just a cough. A sneeze is just a sneeze. A vomit is just a vomit. And a cry is just a cry. Just as I treat Aria when she's upset. Like a normal baby. That's all.

With that moment of clarity, I reached for a pacifier and a swaddle, and I picked him up. And I realized that I am judging him unfairly - and unjustly for that matter. Babies are incredibly attuned to the energy we send them. I see this unfold every single day. The babies read my energy and respond in turn. And my own insecure thoughts, and even worse, the "oh poor baby" ones, can hinder his ability to thrive. To become self-sufficient. To grow and develop.

And it's not fair to Aria either. She's been telling me this for weeks now.

I realized that I needed to process everything that had happened with the pregnancy, the birth, and the post-partum period, accept it, and let it go. I believe I’m there now, and I am already seeing changes - big changes - over the weekend and this morning.

Here’s how I am doing it: First, I became aware and mindful that I was projecting judgmental thoughts and feelings. I didn’t blame myself or feel bad about it. I simply became aware and set an intention to change it, to turn it around. Next, I meditated on changing my thought patterns. I consciously became aware of my thoughts while feeding both Aria and Ethan. And I mindfully focused on non-judgment. I kept repeating the words: “Non-judgment, non-judgment, non-judgment.” And I automatically, you could even say intuitively, became present. I began focusing on my breath and on how grateful I am. I felt this incredibly healing, positive energy come over me. And I exhaled. It was great. A moment to savor. They were both eating vigorously, and they both looked content.

And then suddenly, with my mind clear of clutter, I began to notice a change in him. He was growing before my eyes, smiling, eating more, crying less. I saw that he is thriving. He could very well have been doing this all along, but I finally saw my son – as he is – for the first time. A healthy, thriving baby.

I am going to continue practicing presence and gratitude with both Ethan and Aria, especially while feeding them. And I will continue to be mindful of not judging them. Accepting them for who they are.

And I’m starting to realize that my children are teaching me incredibly valuable lessons that are helping me grow in my relationship with myself and with others. Perhaps if I begin to perceive myself with non-judgment, I will thrive more and more. I will see myself for who I really am and live my authentic self more naturally. And perhaps by practicing non-judgment with myself, it will be easier to practice non-judgment with others, and then those relationships will flourish and people will have the space to feel like they can be truly authentic with me.

I'd say that that’s a pretty good goal. Be with myself and others in non-judgment, with presence. I have a feeling that this isn't the last of the lessons that Ethan and Aria will teach me over the years. But I'm savoring this one for now.

How I’m adjusting to being a mom of twins

I totally freaked out last week. It was my first week alone with Ethan and Aria, who are now four months old. I was curled up on the couch this past Wednesday afternoon much like a newborn baby, whining to a friend on the phone, crying hysterically, and wondering if I’ll ever, ever, ever feel better – make that sane – again.

I am finding a lot of joy in having children, but it’s totally normal to say that raising twins is physically exhausting and emotionally trying. It’s a tall order for just about anyone, and needless to say that having Type 1 diabetes adds a whole other component. On top of taking care of them – which is a pretty big job – I also need to keep the house together, have some semblance of a career, and let’s not forget that I also need to take care of myself.

I’m finding it challenging to make the basics happen: taking a shower, eating, checking my sugars, exercising, sleeping, and going to doctors/filling prescriptions. My days have been starting at 4 or 4:30 am and ending at around 10 to 10:30 pm. And it’s pretty much non-stop. When they rest, I run around and try to get things done before one of them wakes up.

Then there’s the taking care of them part. I have been experimenting with feeding them at the same time, but that can sometimes go really, really bad really, really fast. Hysterical cries, formula all over the place (and vomit on the family room couches), neither child really getting my full attention (which I felt guilty about and was part of the couch hysterics). On top of that, I had to take them to two doctors’ appointments this past week – of course carrying two infant car seats in the pouring rain to and from the car way too many times for my liking. Each of them vomited for two days in a row on different days. And somewhere in there, they vomited on me too. Needless to say, lots of laundry has been done.

I’m not the only one adjusting here of course. The whole family is, and that adds to it all. Aria had to get used to having a brother and not as much of our attention (still working on that one, but getting much better than it was). And of course Ethan was adjusting to being in a totally new environment and routine, not knowing what to expect, and feeling at home and comfortable. Our remedy has been to fill them with a lot of love and consistency. It seems to be working, and they seem to be adjusting nicely so far.

What I realized as I thought about today's blog topic is that the Wednesday curled up on the couch freak-out was a wake-up call. I need to get my act together. I am the boss of this house, at least when Lior's not home. I need to be in control. I need to stay balanced and keep a calm mind. I need to stay present and not make matters worse with my griping. I need to love myself and be confident in what I’m doing. I have no other choice. I need to take care of myself or else who will?

And that’s when things started turning.

During those crazy moments when Ethan, Aria, and I are on edge, I had an epiphany that I should sing songs, which seems to put a smile on everyone’s face at any given moment despite my being a really lousy singer. I have learned to make shorter to-do lists, and I have also learned to let a lot go (a clean and orderly house being one of the more challenging things to let go of, but super hard to get done). I am also streamlining – I found an endocrinologist closer to home and have my first appointment booked. Lior and I have established a bedtime routine that seems to be working really well. Lior and I also spent the first week that Ethan was home organizing and figuring out who would be in charge of what and how we would prioritize stuff to do at home. So that makes things much better.

I have been mindful of savoring the amazing moments - the cuddling, the smiles and coos, and watching them grow and learn. The other day when I was singing songs – to calm the room – Aria started singing with me in her own way. She was smiling and kicking her legs in her chair. Ethan used to cry when we changed his diaper, and now he smiles from ear to ear and calmly waits while I take care of whatever I need to do. How amazing is that?

Also, I'm learning that it’s okay if babies cry. It’s loud, causes stress, and breaks my heart, but it’s still okay if they cry until I can get to them. Yes, I can go take a shower, and if one of them cries, well, they’ll wait for me to get out to take care of whatever is bothering them. Of course, once one starts crying, the other one sometimes does as well, and then it takes me quite some time to calm them down. I suppose this will help them build character. But still, my point is that I can go take a shower whether or not they cry while I'm away.

“Me time” has taken on new meaning. It’s composed of a few hours a week, rather than most of the time. And what that has forced me to do is think really carefully about what I want to spend that “me” time doing. I want to spend that time exercising, spending time with family and friends, writing, reading, and pampering (like getting a haircut or a pedicure).

I have learned to savor the “me time” moments in a whole new way. Lior and I watched a movie together last night! It was only interrupted once, and we watched it together until the end. And I actually took a walk by myself yesterday for thirty minutes, and it was so peaceful. I have learned to appreciate things I used to take for granted in a whole new way.

This whole experience is a real life lesson. Actually it’s all of life’s lessons rolled into one super intense immersion course in accepting what life hands us and making the best of it. And in this case, that means learning the lesson.

So long, NICU…Welcome home Ethan!

Ethan is home! We are all thrilled, and yes, utterly exhausted.

Ethan came home today after a week of final preparations at the hospital for his discharge. Despite an earthquake and a hurricane, we were able to leave the hospital only a day later than originally planned.

There is a lot to say about this entire journey, and I’m sure I’m still processing much of it. There has been a lot to learn - from a medical perspective, as a new parent and a new parent of twins and a new parent of twins who also has Type 1 diabetes, and lots and lots of spiritual/emotional lessons. I have been reflecting for quite some time now on what I can learn from this experience, and here’s what comes to mind as my top five:

5) Be mindful of facts and feelings – at the right time. It’s good to be mindful of one’s emotions, accept and process them. But sometimes, those emotions need to be checked at the door when the time isn’t right. I’m a better listener – and a better mother - when I just listen to the facts, not the feelings, when discussing matters that require my undivided attention – such as a meeting with a doctor. That’s probably true for everyone.

4) The power of prayer. It’s remarkable. But always be mindful of what it is you are praying for, and you will receive abundance in return.

3) Be thankful. Savor each wonderful moment life hands you – and even the not so wonderful ones – and be thankful for them. And be sure to thank God after receiving something you’ve prayed for.

2) Listen to and trust your intuition. I don’t know how many times I left the NICU crying because the doctors painted a dismal picture. But my gut kept telling me that Ethan is just fine or a specific direction to take or a good question to ask. Always trust your gut feelings. They are more often true than not.

1) Trust God/the Universe/or however you may call it. When you trust that the Universe is working in your best interest, forces are moved and set in motion to deliver the best possible outcome to you. It’s true. Really, I mean it. I have found time and time again – during the best and worst of times – that when I trust the Universe, every need I have is delivered in the most efficient and best way possible.

Ethan and Aria are asleep right now. We have music playing in the background. Lior is taking a nap. And I can’t help but think that it’s time to move on and forward. To process everything and finally relax into it. Take a vacation, enjoy life and our kids. We’ll see what the Universe has in mind for us next.

Lessons from the NICU: Getting over the Type 1 diabetic guilt, anger, and other related feelings

It’s time to address the elephant in the room. Is my newborn son Ethan in the NICU (it’s been almost 14 weeks now) because I have Type 1 diabetes? Which I’ve had for over 36 years, very well controlled now but not always so. And I was pregnant with twins; Aria is his sister. And I had them at an “advanced maternal age” as those high risk doctors call it.

If you ask me, the answer is partially yes, but no one will say that definitively. The reason that Ethan is in the NICU is because he was born very, very, very small, and is working on recuperating from things associated with that. He stopped growing at 26 weeks in utero because of negative diastolic flow – which means that the blood and nutrients were flowing out of his placenta rather than into it.

Why did this happen? No one can say for sure. I asked one high risk doctor, and he said: It could be diabetes, but there could be other reasons as well. “We don’t know.” Another high risk doctor told me that it is most likely due to the diabetes and the fact that I was pregnant with twins. It’s quite a lot for a Type 1 diabetic body – who has had the disease for quite some time - to handle, she said.

To be honest, the diabetes theory makes the most sense to me and is the prevailing one in my book.

So that leads us to the emotional side of diabetes and pregnancy: The guilt. The anger. The feeling that life just isn’t fair sometimes. The feeling of responsibility for putting him in the situation he is now. Starting his life out in a hospital with beeping monitors, pricks and prods, tests galore, strangers feeding you in shifts every 12 hours, the whole shebang. He’s just a baby. The nurses try to make it comforting, like home. They hold him, talk to him, and let him play. But still, it’s a hospital. Away from the home he still hasn’t gotten to know and love. Or the family he sees a few hours a week.

This is not what I dreamed of or hoped for. I dreamed of bonding, walks in the park, cute little outfits, and lots of cuddling time. I’ve had all of those things with Aria, and barely with Ethan - only with nurses, doctors, and monitors in the same room.

How do I let go of that? How do I become at peace with what has happened?

Fred Luskin, author of Forgive for Good and cofounder and director of the Stanford Forgiveness Project, says that mindfulness and focusing on gratitude and kindness are the antidote, as told in Letting Go found in the May 2011 issue of Oprah Magazine. Luskin says that these concepts apply to any disappointment or hurt that any of us has experienced. It does not have to be as traumatic as a newborn child in the NICU. It could be as simple as someone taking your spot in a crowded parking lot.

I did my best to make my pregnancy a healthy one. And it was. My A1C’s varied between 5.8 and 6.1. I exercised as doctors prescribed. I gained a healthy amount of weight. I monitored my sugars and calculated carbohydrates. I visited doctors and listened to what they said. I came out of this pregnancy healthy. Aria came out of this pregnancy healthy as well. We’re thriving.

And Ethan – who was predicted to not even make it – came out of it with some feeding issues, a little small, and a few other things which he has already outgrown. He’ll outgrow the feeding issues as well, and of course, he’ll outgrow being small.

I willingly chose to have children, to get pregnant, despite the diabetes and my age, fully knowing all the risks involved. It’s a decision I made that I do not – and never will – regret. I have two beautiful children, and I love being a mom. I cannot feel guilty for that. And I don’t. Just the opposite: I’m grateful.

Becoming a NICU Warrior Mom

Ethan and Aria were born prematurely thirteen weeks ago. Ethan has been at the NICU (Newborn Intensive Care Unit) since he was born. I have decided to devote the next few blogs to sharing the lessons I am learning from the NICU experience.


I have been transformed into a warrior mom during my son’s journey at the NICU.

In the beginning of Ethan’s stay, I was quite the opposite of a warrior mom. I was completely overwhelmed the first few weeks actually. I was recovering from a c-section and had a newborn at home on top of having a child in the NICU. I was sleep-deprived, and my body was going through a huge hormonal transformation. I was overwhelmed with guilt regarding both children, feeling torn between them, and in the meanwhile, not taking as good care of myself as I needed. I missed Ethan terribly, but wanted to be fair to Aria as well. My feelings of guilt have not gone away, BUT I have come to accept that we’re doing the best we can with the situation we’ve been given.

That feeling of acceptance of the situation took a while. And in the beginning of his stay, all of those feelings I just mentioned were distracting me from the matter at hand – providing Ethan with the best, most loving care possible.

I listened to what the doctors said about my son and his care. I asked questions, but I didn’t question. I didn’t want to upset any of the nurses since they were with my son, caring for him, much more than I was.

Then issues began to transpire. I was not happy with some of the directions that were being taken regarding his care.

One of the issues that concerned us (and still does) was consistent care and the passing on of information: The doctors work on rotations. The nurses work in shifts. The residents are there on a monthly basis. We found that each doctor has their own approach, and plans would change constantly. People are human, sometimes details get lost when passed from one person to the next, and messages were not necessarily being passed on from nurse to nurse effectively.

What this means is that our son was being passed from one hand to the next, and not receiving the same care. So he became inconsistent. For example, eating really well one day, and not the next. Growth and eating healthy are very crucial parts to a baby's well-being. My husband and I were the only consistency in his life, and we couldn’t be there all the time.

Time was passing. I wasn’t at the stage where I could see what was going on clearly. And I couldn’t understand why my son was still there or what was keeping him there. What still had to be done to get him home?

I really didn’t know who to speak with about the issues, and it was hard for me to put a handle on what was bothering me exactly. I was more emotional than effective. So I would speak with the nurses. I developed relationships with many of them. And as I spoke to them more and more – and spent more and more time at the NICU, I began learning how things work around there.

One of the nurses suggested that we ask for a family meeting to discuss a plan for discharge with the doctor. My husband took a day off from work. We brought Aria with us. And we sat with a team of doctors involved in his care, along with a nurse Ethan had never seen before and one of the residents.

We asked about the plan for discharge, or the plan for getting him ready for discharge. The doctors seemed to have a different agenda for our meeting though. They wanted to talk about their search for an answer to the BIG question: Why did my son stop growing in utero at 26 weeks? Is there something else going on besides being a small, premature baby?

The doctors told us about a series of tests they had run and were going to run. And their theories as to what could be happening. And I was overwhelmed with emotions once again: Oh no, what are they going to tell me that my son has? I thought we were going to talk about my son coming home. I knew they were running tests, but I hadn’t given them much thought. (In the meanwhile, all of the tests have come back normal.)

It hit me a week after that meeting, after I had gotten hold of my emotions. If he has something, we'll deal with it. That's not keeping him in the NICU though. Right now, our focus and our main goal is to get him home. I had been distracted by other things rather than doing everything I can to get him discharged. My son needed me to be more involved. Like super duper, above and beyond involved. I needed to be clear-headed, understanding, prepared, smart and intuitive. I needed to speak up when I didn’t understand or was unsure of a treatment. I needed to be on top of things. I wanted to know about every test, every feeding, every prick, and every poop.

My husband and I began doing research. Asking questions. I began speaking to the doctor every day, and I still call the nurses several times a day to ask for updates. I started taking notes and tracking his progress. I wrote down the names of all the tests and asked for reports. I want to know EVERYTHING. I learned how they calculated certain measurements, and I began calculating them too. We complained to the NICU bosses regarding consistency in care, and sure enough, notes began appearing on our son’s crib with plans of care. And when something doesn’t go the way I think it should go or am confused about how it should go: I speak to the doctor, the nurse manager, or the patient relations representative (depending on the situation) and things get taken care of immediately.

I really don’t care if people like me or not. This is my son’s care we’re talking about. Yes, it is more effective if I approach practitioners in a user-friendly way, and I do my best to stay calm, clear, and understanding. That’s for sure. But that doesn’t mean that I have to go out of my way to please them if I see a problem either.

In the meanwhile, I have come to realize that the NICU staff – from the doctors to the nurses to the secretaries – really, really, really do care about our son’s well-being. And they will do whatever they can to help him. I know that for sure.

We’re all human. We all try our best. And our best might change at any given moment. And that’s why I’ve decided to become as clear as I can be of emotions that hold me back, and to transform into a warrior mom.

Twin delivery at 34 weeks – a mother’s intuition

I haven’t written in a while. A lot has been going on. Yes, that’s right. I have BIG news. Baby boy Ethan Joseph Busel and baby girl Aria Jordan Busel were born on May 11, 2011 at 9:23 and 9:24 am respectively.

And here’s why I haven’t written since April...

My pregnancy became complicated at around week 26. I am fine. Diabetes is fine. Actually, I saw my endocrinologist last week and he said, “Your diabetes is so well-controlled that you are on auto-pilot despite being completely pre-occupied.” My last A1C was 6.1, and my blood pressure and other tests are fantastic. Yay for me.

The kids, actually Ethan, were having problems though. Ethan’s placenta had negative Doppler flow, which means that blood and nutrients were flowing out rather than in. His growth stopped at week 26. He was born very small. I mean very, very, very small.

We were told he wouldn’t make it. And we had a decision to make: deliver early in an attempt to save him – putting them both at risk - or prolong the pregnancy as long as possible hopefully giving her a better chance. He would be at risk for survival no matter what, according to the doctors.

We were told the risks of delivering at different stages during the pregnancy. If we delivered anywhere before 32 weeks, they would both be at serious risk for brain, heart, and lung malfunctions.

The day we found out that Ethan might not make it, we cried. Oh did we ever cry. The decision was really difficult. When should we deliver? What is the best date so they both make it? Healthy???

After a lot of deliberation and meetings with doctors, multiple ultrasounds, we decided to push the pregnancy as long as possible. Lior wanted to deliver at 32 weeks. The high risk doctor tried to push us to 36 weeks. My woman’s/mother’s intuition told me 34.

I was still questioning that little voice I heard until my OB/GYN told me 34 as well. Confirming my feeling with his medical experience. A c-section was scheduled.

The little voice was really a whisper, a very clear whisper. I heard it during one of our doctors' meetings at around week 28 or so. We were talking about our options for delivery. And I heard "34" loud and clear. I know when I hear a clear intuitive whisper because it makes me stop in my tracks. I normally would have been hysterically crying, but instead, I stopped, listened, and even smiled. I knew I had been given guidance. I believe it was divine guidance, but who knows.

I was monitored very closely for the last eight weeks of my pregnancy. I went for ultrasounds two to three days a week – never knowing if there would be two heartbeats or not, but believing with all my heart and soul that there was.

And Ethan kept kicking. I could feel him moving. Actually I felt him moving more than she. He would twist and turn – pushing on my ribs, pressing on my bladder. She flittered a bit, but nothing painful. I actually started worrying about her too. The ultrasounds were reassuring me about her, and every kick and every push was a God send regarding him. It reassured me that he was going to be okay, and I felt deeply with all my heart that he would make it.

The weeks passed. My doctors decided to send me out on maternity leave – to lower the risk of delivering early.

May 11th rolled around, and I went into the c-section a nervous wreck. Not only because of the surgery, but also because of the outcome. What would happen? Will he be okay? Will she be okay? Will I be okay? Honestly, the experience was traumatic, yet thrilling. I was about to become a mom! But this wasn’t at all how I imagined it being.

The doctor was in the midst of injecting the epidural (painful), when the NICU (Newborn Intensive Care Unit) doctor came over to me, with her piercing blue eyes and said, “You know your son might not make it?”

“Yes, I know,” I growled.

Sheesh, what timing. I couldn’t kick her because of the effects of the epidural. They probably plan it that way. She was wearing a Jewish star around her neck though, and I couldn’t help but feel that God was on our side. I always felt that he would make it. I just knew.

I was laid down on the surgical table. Lior was brought into the room. He held my hand reassuring me that I was okay. “Remember to breathe,” he said. I asked him to say that despite not having to push through labor pains since breathing reminds me to be present, rather than making up worry-wart stories in my head.

The operating room was packed like Grand Central Station. There were five person teams of doctors and nurses for each baby, and also the anesthesiologist, three residents, the OB/GYN, the high risk doctor, OR nurses, my husband...oh yeah and me.

The operation had begun. I will spare you the details. But basically after a lot of freaking out on my part, and a lot of Lior calming me down, I heard the doctor sing, “I feel your son kicking me.”

A minute or two later (maybe it was even seconds), I heard crying. Crying. Yes, I heard crying. “That’s your son,” I heard the doctor say.

And a minute later, I heard another cry. And that was Aria. Everyone had expected her to come out first, but sure enough, he kicked his way to the front of the line.

The nurses brought both of them over for me to see. The proof was there. I am a mom of two beautiful children. And they’re both alive, breathing, and yes, crying. Lior went to check: Five fingers and five toes on each hand and foot. Forty altogether.

The room cleared out. The babies were taken to the NICU. They needed special treatment since they were premature. I was stitched up and to make a long story short, I went to work on recovering from the c-section.

Aria was in the NICU for 10 days. She was sent home on May 22. She has been an absolute joy, and it’s a load of fun watching her discover the world.

Ethan is still there. He had more work ahead of him on the road to recovery, and now we’re waiting for the finishing touches. He’s doing really well and I’m impressed with how much he’s overcome. I don’t know when he’s coming home since they tell you a day or two before the discharge. He has been there for 10 weeks though, and needless to say, it’s been a complicated and emotional journey. (more on that in future blogs)

I’ve been living in uncertainty for quite some time, and needless to say, it’s been rough. A roller coaster ride of emotions.

I am fortunate to have the support and love of family and friends. Our entire family has also been supported by a wonderful team of doctors, nurses, and professionals along the way. I have also been utilizing my usual mix of yoga, walks, journaling on gratitude and about whatever is bothering me. And honestly, I have also had sleepless nights, mad researching on the internet, lots of calls to the NICU for updates, meetings with doctors, and countless crying sessions. I’ve been allowing myself to feel whatever I need/want to feel.

But I’m okay.

This experience has been a huge lesson for me in coping with uncertainty, being present, and listening to my intuition. I have learned to put a lot of trust in the Universe’s grand design, clearing my head of the worries and fears, and listening for those whispers of clarity. I can’t say that I’ve mastered the lesson yet, but I’m working on it.

It’s a lesson in letting go of control and trusting that the Universe is on our side. As a friend of mine wrote me the other day, forces are constantly in motion around the Universe working within our best interests. Our lesson is to relinquish ourselves to that and trust it. As Eckhart Tolle said in “A New Earth,” once we become at peace with uncertainty, once we accept it and embrace presence, the world opens. And it has. I have experienced it time and time again throughout my life and most recently, with the birth of my son and daughter.

So here I am living in a holding pattern - waiting for my son to heal. But hey, he’s alive. He’s overcome SO MUCH and improves every day! He smiles, observes, learns, sleeps, plays, eats, and grows. And perhaps because I heard a whisper and listened, perhaps because I trusted the Universe, perhaps because of love, positive energy and prayer, and perhaps because of science and quality medical care. Whatever the reason: I feel at peace with the decision we made, and the Universe rewarded us with two wonderful miracles.

I’m ready to start writing again. See you next Monday.

Inspirations (and questions) on parenting as a diabetic

Among the many things on my mind at 30 weeks of pregnancy with Type 1 diabetes is what our method of parenting will be.

I think about how I was raised, and how I would like to adopt the traditions and values that my parents passed onto me – while of course creating some of our own. I’ve also been observing all of my friends with kids, taking mental notes, and quite frankly have been very impressed with them. I was also a teacher once upon a time, and learned a bit about classroom management and child/adolescent psychology, and so I’m sure those lessons will come into play as well – such as consistency, how to give constructive feedback, the stages of childhood development, and so on.

I know that we will have our own style that will probably involve building on our own experiences and beliefs mixed with learning combined with winging it.

And of course, there’s the diabetes. There is no doubt in my mind that diabetes will play an instrumental role in how I parent – whether I’m aware of it or not. It simply changes how you do things, your outlook, how you manage life.

As a T1 diabetic, I’m very structured on a day to day basis. Although my heart is that of a creative free spirit, I eat and check my sugars at certain times of the day. That’s just how it is. I had to learn to balance the demands of life with my true passions at a young age, and to be honest still struggle with it sometimes. I’ve also learned to roll with the punches. You never know when you may have a low or a high sugar, and you just have to deal with it no matter where you are or what you are doing. The good news is that I handle crisis situations pretty well – in my own way.

There are also the physical demands of diabetes that will come into play when having twins. What do I do if I have a low sugar while I’m changing or feeding them? My response: I need to handle my low sugar first. Kind of like how on an airplane the safety directions advise you to place the oxygen mask on yourself first and then on your child. It won’t be much help to the child if I’m passed out.

Another issue that comes with living with diabetes is dependence vs. independence. Type 1 diabetics are insulin-dependent. We need insulin to live. I’ve had diabetes since the age of 3, and so I was incredibly dependent on my parents not only for what normal kids are dependent on their parents for – but also for my insulin shots. Without them, I wouldn’t have survived. I was also dependent on my parents to help me when I experienced low blood sugars, to think about the types of foods I was eating, to make sure I stayed active, to check for ketones when my sugar was high and to dose the right amount of insulin.

At the same, diabetics crave independence. So many of us want so badly to take care of ourselves, show people that we can achieve anything, and not let the diabetes define us.

I know that all of this will influence how I raise the twins. I’m sure of it.

What I don’t know is what it’s like to not have diabetes. But I believe that the lessons of living with diabetes will help make me more aware of and sensitive to whatever our children experience and go through in life.

Mothers want everything to be good for their children. Life isn’t always like that though. I’m sure my parents weren’t thrilled or jumping for joy when they learned that I have diabetes. So it’s my job as a parent to not resist when bad things happen, and instead, help all of us accept that this is what life has dealt. This is a part of the journey. Now let’s see how we can make it the best it can be.

There are so many ways to do this, and my favorites typically involve learning lessons. Using the challenges in life as an opportunity.

True happiness involves discomfort, according to Harvard psychology professor Tal Ben Shachar in his book, Even Happier. “We should remember that going through difficult times can augment our capacity for pleasure: it keeps us from taking pleasure for granted, reminds us to be grateful for all the large and small pleasures in our lives. Being grateful in this way can itself be a source of real meaning and pleasure.” (p. 26)

I definitely agree with this approach, and it’s worked for me. Many people suppress when bad things happen, while I find that it helps to face it, let it out and learn from it. And then I’m able to let go.

Here’s another strategy: I was listening to an inspirational talk show called Positive Living on ION network the other day. A life coach, whose name I can’t recall, advised that when faced with challenges in our lives, observe what questions you are asking.

For example, if you are afraid that your place of employment is downsizing and that you may be a part of it, you may find yourself asking, “What am I going to do if I’m laid off?” “How will I afford things?” As a result of that way of thinking, your brain focuses on coming up with those kinds of answers. You may start thinking of unemployment or worse. And then that energy brings about those results.

Instead, he advised asking, “How can I make the most of the situation?” “What can I do to keep my job?” And then your brain will creatively think of ways to deal with those questions instead, and bring that energy to the situation.

I found this to be a real aha moment for me. It’s all in the phrasing of the question.

As I sit here thinking about becoming a parent, I ask myself, “How can I be the best parent I can be?” “How can I provide my kids with the best life possible?” “How can I manage motherhood and diabetes?” “How can I bring the positive aspects of having diabetes to my kids?”

And the answers will come.