The Playpen

I’ve written a lot about my family, outlook on child-raising and random things that I think are funny. But let me begin this entry by telling you a bit about what I do (bear with me, my reason for doing this is forthcoming). I went to a fairly well-know art school in Los Angeles, where I studied Graphic Design. Since then, I have been working in Marketing and Creative Direction for about 11 years, and have been fortunate enough to move up the corporate food chain relatively quickly. I served my previous employer (Job #1) in this capacity for eight years, and have been at my current position for over two (Job #2).

Somewhere between the birth of my daughter and accepting the position at my current employer, I came to what I would call a life decision. You see, my rapid advancement at Job #1 allowed me to gain a better reputation, expand my resume and enjoy higher compensation, but it came with a price. In order to achieve those benefits, I became something I did not want to be. I became a politician. I positioned, self-promoted, strategized and campaigned against other individuals, eventually getting one of them fired so I could assume their role and expand my responsibilities. The rat race excited me…I can even say that I enjoyed it. The truth be told, I was good at it.

Then my daughter was born. Something clicked inside me and I was filled with shame and remorse. I realized that my co-workers were human beings. They had families. The very thing I was chastising them for (not dedicating heart, sole and any available free time to corporate capital gain), somehow made sense now. What the Hell was I doing? Granted, the individual I spoke of was let go for poor performance, but who was I to attempt to encourage that, when it might have happened on its own anyway?

Until recently, at Job #2, I have lived to a new standard. I have not, will not, engage in corporate politics. It’s been beneath me, and I’ve lived, worked and played with a sense of brotherly love for all my fellow human beings. I was the corporate Gandhi, dealing out forgiveness and tolerance like playing cards on the poker table of American business.

Then it happened.

A peer in my company decided to take issue with my performance. She decided to campaign against me, apparently hoping that if she spoke in a loud enough voice, her projects would miraculously rise to the top of my priority list, regardless of whether or not they belonged there. To my horror, it started working. I looked at her from across a conference table a week ago. Determined. Angry. Defiant. My God, she was me.

I realized that, for my own survival and protection, I had to slip back into that all-too-familiar territory of bobbing and weaving, campaigning and politicking. I had no choice. If I didn’t, she could potentially cause me to lose my job, which would be devastating to my family’s future. So I have, and can tell you quite matter-of-factly, that I will succeed in completely obliterating whatever seeds of suspicion she may have planted in people’s minds, and probably cause both of us a lot of unnecessary heartache in the process. How’s that for brotherly love?

When I came home last night, I spent a while looking at photos of my daughter. She is so happy. So innocent. Her face, in some recent shots of her in the pool, bears an expression of pure, uncontaminated joy – an expression my own face has not carried for a long, long time.

How do I raise her to succeed? I have two choices. I can raise her to ignore the motives and deception of others, rise above distrust and poor character and work and live to an idealistic standard, which will make her a much better person, but set her up for disappointment and make her vulnerable to the misdirected intentions of others. Or I can teach her how to manipulate, maneuver and use situations for personal advancement, how to use peoples personalities and weaknesses against them and how to protect herself by covering herself, which will probably allow her to follow the same career path I have, but set her up for the same self-evaluation and disappointment that I am experiencing now.

I hate no-win decisions.

Matt
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Thats how we read the general question being asked by this article posted on BusinessWeek. This question is being asked more and more frequently, and has become a hot topic, for obvious reasons. It doesn’t get the press that issues like abortion or gay marriage receive, simply because the overall population of parents who have premature babies is still relatively small in comparison to those with full-term children. However it is an extreme hot button for those parents who have gone through the experience of having a child in the NICU.

The core of the debate emanates from reports such as these:

Excerpt

“extending intensive care to the most immature infants would entail considerable suffering, resource use, and cost in order to benefit only a small proportion of infants.” Elderly patients who are subjected to painful, drawn-out hospital procedures can urge doctors not to take further drastic measures; preemies who suffer through heroic interventions have no such voice.

The issue is more complicated than simply taking a side. As in many great political debates the real issue stems from one side being overly analytical and mechanical, while the opposition behaves emotionally and oftentimes irrationally. Lina Moreco, the Montreal filmmaker who created Medicine Under the Influence, a 76-minute documentary on this very topic, is an example of the former.

“Many of those children would not have survived 30 or even 20 years ago. Now they do, with often terrible consequences,” Moreco states. “It doesn’t make sense that we, as a society, spend $250,000 to save a baby born after only 22 weeks, but spend next to nothing to provide the treatment and therapies they need to live with their handicaps. It’s scandalous.” Note that this film was release in 2004, the cost of NICU care of a 22 weeker can now often exceed $1 million.

Whether you have a preemie or not, it is easy to see why this type of cold, fact-based logic ignites such passion among parents of pre-term children. As anyone who has watched the amazingly heart-wrenching and touching film, “Little Man” can attest, there are times when even the most dedicated parent of preemies, particularly ones unfortunate enough to possess serious birth defects and lifelong health issues, can waiver and question their own decision to put their families, relationships, health and financial security behind the life of a child who’s very survival is uncertain.

For us, it was practically a non-issue. We have been blessed with a preemie who, at three-years-old, has no evidence of the health-related issues she once faced. Although her period in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit was extremely difficult for us, there was never any shred of doubt in our minds about whether or not we wanted her to survive.

For others, however, it is not so simple. In fact, the great preemie debate is really a continuation of the abortion issue. Only the individuals personally involved in the situation truly understand the implications of their decision. Is it right to deny resuscitation to a child based on the possibility that its life may be complicated, expensive, cruel and laden with hardship?

In our opinion, the parents, and only the parents, can make that decision.

Matt and Aline
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Dad,

You and I haven’t spoken to each other in four years. I wish that just once we could sit down and have a civilized conversation. But since that is apparently impossible, I will have to settle for writing you this letter.

All in all, you have been a fairly good father to me. When I was born you and Mom took such good care of me…feeding me, playing with me, taking me on walks through the park. When I had to go to the hospital at two-months for surgery, you held me and comforted me and made me feel better. I was really happy, and I would say I had a great childhood. Running around the neighborhood, going to daycare and playing with my friends, then coming home and sleeping cozily in your bed, it was terrific.

Then you and Mom decided to have a baby and things got ugly. You were gone at all hours of the night, and even when you were home it was only for a short time – during which you paid almost no attention to me, I might add. That’s when I started throwing up a lot. I think I was just stressed out and missed your company. I wanted what we once had but all your attention was focused on the baby. I felt neglected. Shut out. Tired. I would try to get you to notice me by stealing her stuffed animals, but you would only scream at me and make me stand outside in the yard until I calmed down. Once, I even went to the bathroom right on the floor…anything to get you to look my way once and a while. Nothing.

I thought that things would never go back to the way they were. I was sad.

But then, something wonderful happened. As your precious little girl got older, SHE actually started to pay attention to me, and therefore, so did you.

We would run around in the yard together playing, with you sitting and watching, as a family. She would give me her left over food to eat all the time, even though you told her not too (I loved the Goldfish crackers she’s give me right from her hand.). We all took trips together…we even went camping! And even though you only let me sleep on a mat at the foot of your bed, I was happy again.

I am glad we are all getting along, and I am sorry I pooped on your floor. You’re a great dad after all, and I love you. I wish you the happiest of Fathers Days, Matt. I love you!

Your beloved family dog,

Whiskey

Note: We are performing some site maintenance this weekend, so I posted this a bit early for Jeremy’s contest (he has some great ones!). Happy Fathers Day to every hard-working Dad out there. Much respect to you all!


Matt
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When Frankie was in the NICU I never imagined that three years later I’d be taking a camping trip with her and feel that my daughter is truly adventurous! Starting off as preemie parents, we’ve always had somewhat of a cautious attitude. In time, I believe that will go away. It’s times like these that make us forget our little girl was in an isolette so long ago.

This past weekend we took a family trip up to the Angeles National Forest, Frankie’s 1st time camping. We were a little apprehensive at how she’d do but our spirited Frankie mowed through the experience like a pro. We are so proud of her and wanted to share our photos with you.



Our new red tent, tada!

Frankie goofing around in Mommy’s red beanie!



Dad making his famous breakfast. Ham and eggs in warm tortillas, a camping tradition. Yum!

Frankie thought it was fun to knock around the eggs



Mom and Frankie trying to help at breakfast


Making friends with little campers



Our dog Whiskey


Chillin with her favorite books!

Today, Frankie amazes us. She’s such a smart, spunky kid. We couldn’t be more blessed to have her. We absolutely love her.


Aline


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A while back, I posted about my perspective on raising my girl, Frankie. Another birthday has come and gone, and she’s not so little any more. We started The Playpen as a preemie blog, and like to think of it as such. But, admittedly, it has become more difficult for me to apply my own personal experiences with having a preemie to present day situations, especially since Frankie has overcome pretty much all health-related issues having to do with her pre-term birth. So I though I would write a little about my parenting skills over the last year. I found, that in doing so, Frankie being a preemie has affected my actions and still does to this day, both positively and negatively. I am very happy that our traffic has picked up, and that more and more people are coming here and reading about our experiences. I would like to invite anyone who has had a similar experience to share in our comments section…we’ll even take some advice. If there’s one thing I have learned, its that every day I am surprised about how little I know when it comes to parenting.

Things I Did Right:

1. I have encouraged her to learn on her own, and have made every effort to step back and deny my instinct to help her solve problems.

2. I have tried to teach her that she is capable of anything, and that she should be fearless and confident…even when she has to hold my hand doing it.

3. I have avoided baby talk, and made sure I don’t refrain from using my full vocabulary when speaking with her. As a result, I believe she is ahead of the curve when it comes to conversational skills.

4. I have exposed her to many different experiences, even when I think she might be afraid. I believe she should try everything once. If she is frightened by the car wash, she doesn’t have to go through it a second time. But I will ask her if she is ready to try again each and every time we go past it.

5. I have exposed her to various genres of music. This may sound like a minor thing, but it is not to me. Music is a great healer and a universal language that anyone, anywhere can understand. My own father did the same with me and I didn’t realize it until I noticed that not everyone can name titles from songs spanning classical, country, rock, rap, folk, doo-wop, punk, metal, choral, R & B, barbershop and big band. For whatever reason, I am proud when my daughter says “maybe we should listen to The Eagles” from the back seat.

Things I did wrong:

1. I spoiled her. I have created a child that not only expects to get a toy, a piece of candy or an article of clothing every single time we go somewhere, but demands it. Loudly. This is a hard thing to undo.

2. I let my fear of having another baby keep me from immediately wanting to have another one. Now, as my wife and I get older, the clock ticks and Frankie doesn’t have a sibling as I and my wife both do.

3. I was too soft. Not quite the same as spoiling her. She has become a demon. She is demanding, stubborn and bossy. I still catch myself getting her juice cup for her when she tells me to…even when its sitting on the table right next to her.

4. I let her watch too much TV. It started with Baby Einsteins, then grew into Franklin and Oswald, and now even includes Dora (God help me) once in a while. This is pure selfishness, as its the only time I can get a moment to myself. In the end, this will not be good for her and as she grows older I feel it will be harder and harder to keep her from watching more.

5. I am not consistent. Sometimes I am very short with her and have no patience. Other times I can speak in a calm voice and guide her in the right direction all night long. I fear that this type of inconsistency has seeded an almost frantic personality in her at times, and its this characteristic that is the hardest on my wife and I. We have friends who are very calm and controlled seemingly all the time. Inevitably, so are their children. Our child is, well, like us. Loud. Angry. Defiant. I worry that she may end up being a bully at school because of this.

How do we know what is right and what is wrong when it comes to raising our children? Many people will say “go with your gut”, but thats not good enough for me. By the time I realize I have been doing something incorrectly, its too late because Frankie has already developed traits associated with my error. Sometimes I am even guilty of procrastination when it comes to correction, thinking “I will wait until she is old enough to reason with me, then fix this.” News flash, dad. She was old enough a long time ago.

Matt
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A few weeks ago my husband Matt wrote a letter addressed to me that came out of the blue. That morning I stumbled on it and was immediately inspired to write him back. For a few weeks now I’ve been contemplating if I should post it. I have finally decided that I should.

May 3rd, 7:30AM

I woke up this morning and read a letter from my husband addressed to me on the playpen. I didn’t know it was there, I was surprised. There’s nothing like hanging yourself out there in the raw. I thank you for expressing yourself to me in this way. The first words I read in the morning are the ones I carry with me all day. This, I will remember for much longer. Your confessions of our recent dismay, and the rough patches we’ve had, seem bleak in comparison to what I feel for you and our family. I’m always surprised at how little it takes to put one’s situation into perspective.


I was overjoyed with your reaction the morning we got the blessed news. It was unexpected for both of us. I felt your pain and disappointment when our happy news (what felt like instantly) turned sour. Although I’ve struggled with the harsh reality, the vagueness of the outcome makes me ache in places I didn’t know existed. I’m not one to accept “it just happens” as an answer. Reading my emotions like an open book is not unusual for those who know me. I have a blunt knack of wearing it on my face and I don’t care to hide it. Vulnerable, that’s the state I call myself in these days. Disappointed, sad and somewhat angry. A lethal kind of angry, the kind you want to take a hammer to.


After such a long time of being worried and second guessing myself. And this happens. I feel emotionally empty handed. A broken egg, like the one we found on our porch a few days later; fallen out of it’s nest.
I’ll say this much to you. The right time will visit us again, we will be ready. And although never forgotten, our recent experience will throb only but dully, far far away.
I couldn’t imagine my life without your love and support. After all, the Sun wouldn’t rise without you by my side.

Aline

Congratulations to our lucky winner Rachel from Pomeroy, Ohio! We hope you enjoy the goodies as much as we have enjoyed selecting them.

Thanks to all of you who participated in the RedSparks fabulous baby gift giveaway! We hope that you continue checking back with us for updates and news. Don’t be strangers!

Aline & Matt
Visit our online boutique for the latest in fashion and fun for preemie through toddler