I’ve always been a big believer in the idea that things happen for a reason. And if we are tapped into our hearts and paying attention, we can pair what we’re noticing with our own intuition and take new steps—or big leaps.

I’ve reinvented myself many times in this way—sometimes, accidentally; other times, intentionally.

Here’s the most recent set of events that is accidentally leading me somewhere super cool.

My daughter Sally gave birth 12 weeks premature to my first granddaughter, Phoibe, who weighed in at just over a pound when she was born—and is now four pounds and going strong! 

Because of the coronavirus, I can’t visit Phoibe. I can only watch her on a webcam I call Phoibe TV.

I recalled that Jacques’ two sons were also born premature. He’d once told me he read to them in utero. The first time Jacques visited the NICU, he heard his children wailing as he walked down the hall. When he entered the room, he said, “Hi boys,” and they stopped crying.

The recollection gave me the idea to record myself reading to Phoibe. I wanted her to begin to connect with me, get to know my voice, too.

I started reading every picture book I owned, taping myself with the VoiceMemos app on my phone. Books by Dr. Seuss. Books about Little Critter and Amelia Bedelia. Frog and Toad. I read one each morning and sent it in a group text to Sally, my daughter Molly—who has also been reading to Phoibe daily—my grandson Eli (who has not been listening because he’s almost 12, and he’s too cool), and my son-in-law Tommy. Sally and Tommy alternate daily visits to Phoibe, and they play Molly’s and my recordings.

When the stay-at-home order was extended by the Massachusetts governor about a month ago, and it was determined there would be no more school until the end of the year, and no more day care until the end of June, I got to wondering how I might help parents at home by providing some relief with their children. I thought, “Oh! I’ll upload all those recordings to my website, so any child who wants to can listen.” Thankfully, I remembered there is such a thing as copyright laws. 

“So, what can I do?” I wondered again. 

Then, I remembered all the little poems I wrote when Sally and Molly were growing up. Fancying myself a bit of a Shel Silverstein, I wrote all kinds of ditties as birthday and holiday gifts. I crashed around the house, opening closets and drawers, finding a few but not all of them. My sister-in-law, who lives in the same neighborhood in New Hampshire where Jacques and I own a home, walked over and peeked in the totes in our attic, finding them. 

My long-ago intern, Shannon Grossman, who has worked with me ever since she graduated from Westfield State, drove to retrieve them and type them, and she emailed them to me.

While I waited for Shannon to get the bulk of the work to me, I tested out the poems I had in hand by sending them to the tweenage Eli for his feedback. His rulings:

Yes, I would listen to these. I would listen to all of them, except for “Cluck, Cluck.” That one gets weird at the end. I liked how they were not too short and not too long, and how they were funny. I think you should talk a little more about your writing background. I think having an activity gives kids something fun and constructive to do.

Beautiful. I was impressed by how thorough he was—and I should admit here that I paid him for this task and told him I wouldn’t fork out the money if he was not thorough and honest.

I sent the same poems—sans “Cluck, Cluck”—to Eli’s brother, my stepson, Darrian, who is a talented artist. I asked Darrian to illustrate the poems, and he came back with the most adorable drawings.

During summer vacation, I will upload my poems on my site, one a day; I’m not sure yet how many days’ worth I will have; I just got them yesterday morning from Shannon and have some work to do! 

I will read the poems and offer an activity to go with each one. I’m calling them Poem Pods, and I’m pretty excited about them! They’ll be posted on JaniceBeetleBooks.

I’m also compiling my favorites into a children’s book, which Darrian will illustrate.

Please stay tuned. I’d love it if you started to spread the word. Consider sharing this blog and the links to the pods when I post them. 

Help me entertain little children in this time when I am so worried about them!

The post How I Accidentally Found a Way to Help Parents and Children appeared first on Beetle Press.

By far the best pastime is watching my new baby granddaughter, Phoibe, on a webcam provided by Baystate Health, where she was born on March 29. Phoibe has to hit some more milestones before she can come home to her family, so she’s living in the NICU; my daughter and her husband can only visit one at a time, so they alternate days.

No other visitors are allowed. Like, you know. Me.

On April 4, my daughter texted me a link and passcode. When I signed in, there was little, tiny Phoibe on my phone, in her incubator, snoozing. I figured out how to blow her up on Jacques’ big, giant television, and I’ve been watching Phoibe TV ever since.

Best show. Ever. (I can’t prove it by showing you a screen shot or live feed, as that’s against the rules. Just trust me that it’s captivating.)

I was terribly worried about Phoibe at first. She is a medical miracle. Weighing in at just under two pounds at birth, she was healthy and strong for a preemie, but in the photos I saw, she wore scary equipment—such as feeding and oxygen tubes and a heart monitor.

Watching her on the television, I can see that the technology doesn’t disturb her and that she is really just like a newborn in so many ways. Watching helps soothe me.

Much of the time, Phoibe is on her right side with her left leg sticking straight up in the air. She balls her hands into fists. She stretches and jerks involuntarily, especially when a nurse pokes a hand in to reposition her.

But Phoibe looks cozy and content. The more I watch, the more I learn. I realized that the incubator mimics the womb. It is warm and kept at 70 percent humidity. The oxygen tube in her nose supplements the air she is able to breathe on her own. Wadded up cloth diapers keep her loosely held in fetal positions on her back, sides, and tummy. She is able to flail about, though. The nurses rotate her about every hour.

I was worried about Phoibe’s eyes when she was first born, as they were still closed, like a baby bird’s. She couldn’t open them. One night, on Phoibe TV, I saw they were open. Just little slits. But open.

My daughter Molly beat me to it, texting Sally and I. “Her eyes are open!”

“OMG!” Sal and I responded.

That’s the other fun part of Phoibe TV. My daughters and I text constantly.

“Oh my god, they’re changing her diaper.”

“What a cute bum!”

Or, “What is the nurse doing now?”

Sally is a medical assistant, and she always knows the answer. She is the calmest among us.

The Baystate NICU nurses are simply amazing. They handle Phoibe nimbly and gently, listening to her heart, removing IV lines, changing diapers smaller than the palm of your hand, measuring her, flipping her over.

Every day there is a new milestone.

On April 5, they removed Phoibe’s feeding tube, which entered her body in the umbilical cord, and gave her a new IV in her arm. They attended to other routine matters and then swaddled her tightly in a soft, cloth diaper. The entire time, my phone was lighting up with texts.

“Oh, first time!” Sally said. “Swaddling.”

“Tiniest swaddle ever,” Molly said.

“She looks so happy now.”

I’m so happy now. Best TV show. Ever.

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