Now I'm a Believer

It's the boys' HALF birthday today. That means I now have 5 and a HALF year olds, which means that tomorrow they will be closer to 6 than 5 and well, I'm not sure I'm okay with that yet. 

We've never celebrated half birthdays, but apparently it's a hot topic in kindergarten because it's all I've been hearing about this week. I'm sick and my husband is still in Las Vegas, so I'm not exactly up for a major celebration, but I took them to the grocery store and told them they could pick out whatever they wanted for dinner. The verdict? Kraft Deluxe Macaroni and Cheese. I guess the "deluxe" part suggests to them that it's fancy enough for a half birthday celebration. Fine with me. They also got cupcakes, although they had grand ideas of getting an entire sheet cake that actually said "Happy 5 1/2th Birthday!" Seriously.

Anyway, since today we at least half celebrate their birth, I thought it would be a great time to tell you about my amazing experience with EMDR. (hang in there, it will all make sense)

First, if you don't know anything about EMDR, it stands for "eye movement desensitization and reprocessing." It's a weird form of therapy that really shouldn't work, but for some inexplicable reason, does (for lots of people, anyway). Basically, it helps you reframe a traumatic experience so that you're able to remember it without re-experiencing the trauma. (If you want to know more about EMDR, I recommend you start with the Wikipedia entry.)

So my therapist suggested we try EMDR in relation to the birth of my boys after making the astute observation that I was unable to talk about their birth or anything related to their safety or well-being without crying. 

As usual, I was skeptical. I mean, the therapy is essentially you remembering things while staring at your therapist's fingers moving back and forth, as if you're being hypnotized.  It was all bit too new-agey for me, but I had nothing to lose, so I agreed.

It all centered around visualizing the crux of the traumatic moment, which, for me was when, after 3.5 weeks of laying in a hospital bed trying not to give birth, the doctor informed me that today was the day, at just 26 weeks, 5 days gestation. I was terrified. But more than that, I felt like I had failed my precious boys by not being able to keep them safe. 

Please note that I realize there was nothing more I could have done at that moment, but occasionally my emotions overwhelm the logical side of my brain. 

So from that initial memory, you basically work through the trauma and with any luck, you come out the other side not feeling so traumatized. And it actually worked. 

I have to tell you it was nothing short of amazing for me. Using EMDR, I was able to reframe their birth as a happy event rather than the traumatic event I'd been remembering for the last 5 years. 

I realize this probably seems obvious to any of you who had routine deliveries. Of course the birth of your child was a happy day! How could it NOT be exciting? And yet it had never occurred to me that my memories of the birth of my children were just the opposite. 

I was subconsciously viewing their early arrival as probably the greatest failure of my life. For real. And I didn't even know that's what I was thinking, but once I said it out loud, I knew it was true. And as a result of viewing it as a failure, I've been killing myself to make sure I never fail them again. Which is not only exhausting, but impossible.

But here's the new truth, the real one: My boys' early arrival was not only one of my greatest triumphs but will quite possibly be one of their greatest triumphs as well. Because somehow they had the strength not just to survive, but to thrive. And here they are, these amazing, brilliant, funny, healthy little people and I get to be their mom. And I'm lucky. We're lucky. 

Does this mean I won't still remember how hard it was and how helpless I felt? No. But it does mean that I can remember the hard parts within the context that it all turned out okay -- better than okay -- and I can stop trying to make up for something that was never within my control. Something that doesn't need to be made up for. 

It's amazing. Like a weight you didn't even know you were carrying is suddenly lifted. Highly recommended. (It doesn't work for everyone, but it's definitely worth a try.)

And that concludes our therapeutic interlude. I promise way more fluff next time.

Making Memories

Babble has come out with "The 26 Most Disturbing Kid Movies Ever."  

I was somewhat relieved to see that my kids have only seen five of the movies on the list and I'd have to say "Dumbo" was more traumatizing for me to watch than it was for them. But they were pretty freaked out by "Wizard of Oz," only not so much because of the witch or the monkeys, more by the idea that a tornado could just scoop up your house...it figures they'd fear the most realistic part of the film. Assuring them that flying monkeys don't exist would have been too simple. 

Anyway, I'm sure you'll recognize a few of the movies on the list as sources of your own childhood trauma. And if you still aren't convinced to click over and read the damn thing, please enjoy this excerpt on "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory":

The tunnel scene of this movie is the single most frightening sequence in all of '70s cinema. And we're talking about a decade that brought us The Exorcist and Alien. Gene Wilder is simply brilliant in this subversive kiddie classic. One look at him and there is no way you're believing this movie really is for children. Let me ask you, if Gene Wilder's Willy Wonka rang your doorbell, would you let him in? Didn't think so. He's the pusherman, baby. A totally Technicolor, sociopathic pimp. In one master stroke, this film says, "Hey kids, this is what dropping acid is like. The first time's free. Enjoy the '70s!"

I totally agree. (And btw, I must thank my friend Rachel for gifting this movie to my boys this year...I'm sure they were only mildly traumatized.)