It's been such a joy having a baby in the house again! There are other emotions, of course, such as exhaustion, frustration, and the occasional suffocating feeling of being overwhelmed. (By the way, I cannot imagine what it must be like to have multiple babies at once. The people who manage this feat have my utmost respect.)
Gannon completes our little family. After the complications we had attempting to expand to a household of four, we're counting our blessings, surely. Our newest member came with a few quirks, though, and they've really kept me on my toes!
First, this little guy was face up during a majority of my labor. That, combined with the fact that we knew he was going to be a hefty little guy, made us realize that a natural birth may not be possible. After some shoving and coaxing by my midwife, and my body's innate ability to correct the issue, Gannon finally turned as he descended down the birth canal (thankfully!).
After we were discharged from the hospital, we struggled mightily with breastfeeding. Avery had been a champion at nursing, so these feeding problems with Gannon were stressful and completely foreign to me. After approximately eight days of attempts - some successful, most not - I remembered a segment I had read in one of the breastfeeding books the hospital had given us. It turns out Gannon was tongue tied! I spoke to the pediatrician on call (Who assured me that even if Gannon was tongue tied, she had only recommended that three cases in her 27 years of practice be surgically fixed, therefore she doubted the problem with nursing was due to his tongue. She told me that most likely our problems were because of poor nursing positions and all we would require was more education on proper latching techniques.). Monday morning I called to set up an appointment with this physician (Not because I liked her, mind you, but because I knew our problems were going to prove her over-the-phone diagnosis wrong. And I love a chance to prove I'm right!).
So, to make a really long story slightly shorter, we saw the physician later that week. She recommended we see one of their lactation consultants to have a latch evaluation, and by Thursday we were seeing an ENT specialist to have a lingual frenectomy.
My breast pump and I are no longer best friends, and I can't tell you how happy that makes me. And if the rate of growth of this boy is any indication, we're definitely doing a good job. My two-month-old snuggle bug is currently wearing 6 month size clothing, and I'm lucky if I get two wearings out of any given outfit. Thank goodness for second-hand stores that take gently used children's clothing!
Now I can say that the only challenges we're dealing with in the Weatherby household regularly are that the dog decides he needs to go out at the exact moment that I sit down to feed Gannon, Avery has to have a refill of juice or milk while I'm changing a diaper or bathing his brother, and Gannon decides to fuss while I'm playing with the dog and/or Avery. I've also become much more respectful of single parents; how on earth does one take an infant and a preschooler out on their own? The person who invented the shopping carts with the plastic seats geared for older kids have my complete admiration. And although I vowed I'd never use one, I found myself breaking down and purchasing one of those backpack-leash doodads to keep my misbehaving older child next to me while we're out and about without Matt. I discovered I'd rather deal with the incredulous looks and embarassment at using it than abandoning my infant so I can go chase after his brother.
These little hurdles make me sigh with contentment (and exhaustion) at the end of the day, though. I am a happy woman, indeed.
Showing posts with label Parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parenting. Show all posts
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
So Much to Say!
My goodness, it's been a while, hasn't it? I have a number of posts planned just to update you on all that's changed in recent months. First, though, I have to tell you about my newest love.
His name is Gannon Russell. He came into this world kicking and screaming on October 21st of this year. I'll spare you from the labor and delivery play-by-play, but let's just say it was miraculously short (painful as all hell, of course, but short!). After twelve minutes of pushing, out came this nine pound, seven ounce bundle.
Thankfully, his older brother decided a couple months before his arrival that it would be ok to have a little brother (Phew!). Avery has been excited and helpful, sometimes bordering on overzealous. I've decided, however, that I'd much rather have that than deal with an older son who despises his sibling.
I've got loads more to say about this little guy and the chaos he's added to our little family, but for now, I think I'll let some photos do the talking.
His name is Gannon Russell. He came into this world kicking and screaming on October 21st of this year. I'll spare you from the labor and delivery play-by-play, but let's just say it was miraculously short (painful as all hell, of course, but short!). After twelve minutes of pushing, out came this nine pound, seven ounce bundle.
Thankfully, his older brother decided a couple months before his arrival that it would be ok to have a little brother (Phew!). Avery has been excited and helpful, sometimes bordering on overzealous. I've decided, however, that I'd much rather have that than deal with an older son who despises his sibling.
I've got loads more to say about this little guy and the chaos he's added to our little family, but for now, I think I'll let some photos do the talking.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
We'll be having a new baby........
BOY!
Yep, my feelings were nothing more than some wishful thinking, apparently! However, I must say that after learning the gender of our newest family member, I wouldn't have it any other way. I mean, really, don't I add enough drama to this Weatherby clan as it is?
Don't answer that. Let's just bask in the happy light of knowing that every little ounce and milimeter of this little guy appears to be healthy, according to the sonogram tech and her measurements.
Okay, here's the exciting part:
Names!
After lots of cool-for-a-minute notions, we've narrowed our list down to two possibilities:
*Ian Russell (Matt's favorite)
*Gannon Russell (My favorite...although I'm quite fond of Ian, also.)
Russell is Matthew's middle name, and his father's first name. Avery has my dad's first name for his middle one, so we always knew if we had another boy we'd follow suit with the other side of the family. And while we were still deliberating girl names, we were considering Matt's mother's name, Alayne (or a form of that name), for either a first name or middle name, should we have a daughter.
We're considering waiting until we meet this little boy to decide which name fits him best. Honestly, though, I've already been trying Gannon out, making sure it's something Avery can pronounce (he still has trouble with R's and L's...and I wasn't positive he'd be able to spit it out...but he can! Yay! One point for Mama's name - we're ignoring the fact that Ian is even easier to say than Gannon, by the way.).
That's about it for Weatherby news currently.
We hope the sun is shining down on you.
Yep, my feelings were nothing more than some wishful thinking, apparently! However, I must say that after learning the gender of our newest family member, I wouldn't have it any other way. I mean, really, don't I add enough drama to this Weatherby clan as it is?
Don't answer that. Let's just bask in the happy light of knowing that every little ounce and milimeter of this little guy appears to be healthy, according to the sonogram tech and her measurements.
Okay, here's the exciting part:
Names!
After lots of cool-for-a-minute notions, we've narrowed our list down to two possibilities:
*Ian Russell (Matt's favorite)
*Gannon Russell (My favorite...although I'm quite fond of Ian, also.)
Russell is Matthew's middle name, and his father's first name. Avery has my dad's first name for his middle one, so we always knew if we had another boy we'd follow suit with the other side of the family. And while we were still deliberating girl names, we were considering Matt's mother's name, Alayne (or a form of that name), for either a first name or middle name, should we have a daughter.
We're considering waiting until we meet this little boy to decide which name fits him best. Honestly, though, I've already been trying Gannon out, making sure it's something Avery can pronounce (he still has trouble with R's and L's...and I wasn't positive he'd be able to spit it out...but he can! Yay! One point for Mama's name - we're ignoring the fact that Ian is even easier to say than Gannon, by the way.).
That's about it for Weatherby news currently.
We hope the sun is shining down on you.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Goodbye, First Trimester!
We won't be missing you!
That's right! We finally hit the 13 week mark. No more progesterone supplements, no more vomiting (at least, not in the last week+), and the exhaustion levels have certainly decreased.
On another positive note, I had another OB check yesterday. Baby's heart rate is still in the high 150's, and my doctor is confident that things will go smoothly from here on out! I had been going in every two weeks to monitor the baby's heart rate and make sure everything else was progressing normally, and after yesterday's visit, I was told I didn't have to come back for 5 weeks!
So, on May 28th we will do another ultrasound (and if things go well, we should find out the sex!) and an appointment with my doctor. During the ultrasound they will focus in on the four chambers of the baby's heart, to make certain our new little one doesn't have any congenital heart defects. Since Avery has a couple issues in that department, our chances are slightly higher that we'd have another child with a similar problem. There has been nothing thus far to indicate that this baby has anything abnormal going on, but knowledge is power in this sort of situation, and the medical staff would like to be aware should our baby need any special care upon birth.
(*Praying that isn't necessary whatsoever!)
In other news, Avery is immensely enjoying "listening" to the baby in Mommy's tummy :) It makes me happy, too, knowing he's excited about the prospect of a new sibling. Let's just hope that good-natured attitude keeps up once the little one is here and wailing 'round the clock!
Happy weekend to you all.
That's right! We finally hit the 13 week mark. No more progesterone supplements, no more vomiting (at least, not in the last week+), and the exhaustion levels have certainly decreased.
On another positive note, I had another OB check yesterday. Baby's heart rate is still in the high 150's, and my doctor is confident that things will go smoothly from here on out! I had been going in every two weeks to monitor the baby's heart rate and make sure everything else was progressing normally, and after yesterday's visit, I was told I didn't have to come back for 5 weeks!
So, on May 28th we will do another ultrasound (and if things go well, we should find out the sex!) and an appointment with my doctor. During the ultrasound they will focus in on the four chambers of the baby's heart, to make certain our new little one doesn't have any congenital heart defects. Since Avery has a couple issues in that department, our chances are slightly higher that we'd have another child with a similar problem. There has been nothing thus far to indicate that this baby has anything abnormal going on, but knowledge is power in this sort of situation, and the medical staff would like to be aware should our baby need any special care upon birth.
(*Praying that isn't necessary whatsoever!)
In other news, Avery is immensely enjoying "listening" to the baby in Mommy's tummy :) It makes me happy, too, knowing he's excited about the prospect of a new sibling. Let's just hope that good-natured attitude keeps up once the little one is here and wailing 'round the clock!
Happy weekend to you all.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Evil Stomach Bug Chronicles: Victims I and II
For the last week, Avery's had a nasty stomach bug that's created such chaos in his little digestive system, he's been able to clear rooms single(ahem...)-tootedly. I can't begin to describe what this little experience has been like to deal with while pregnant and nauseous at all hours of the day.
Last Friday, my poor, sick little boy finally started to feel a little better. Hooray! (Cue the overly-dramatic "Dum, dum, dummmmm" music.)
Or so I thought. Turns out, the beast that had been living inside my dear child was just releasing its grip on him long enough to squirm its way into another body - mine. The result?
Saturday = complete and utter agony.
Sunday = I finally listened to my husband and drove myself over to Urgent Care, received some IV fluids (to ward off dehydration) and some IV Zofran, which until this stomach bug fiasco had been my saving grace for nausea-related instances. Four and a half hours later, I was on my way home, feeling considerably better than when I'd gone in. By 8:00 that evening, however, I was back to my vomiting self.
Monday = Back to Urgent Care. Blood tests, urine sample, more IV fluids, different IV anti-nausea medication. My results were as follows: viral stomach germ - no treatment other than Pedialyte and Reglan (the new anti-nausea med) to keep the deydration and vomiting at bay. No bladder infection. (By the way - Pedialyte? Did this Dr. know I was 28 years old?? Yep -- apparently this horrible-tasting little beverage has a unique characteristic in that its electrolytes are absorbed straight through the stomach lining and doesn't have to be fully digested in order to provide benefits to the body. Hm...still doesn't taste good.)
After another 3+ hours in Innovis (this time, because the ER and Urgent Care were so busy, I got a lovely "overflow room," which consisted of a gurney, rolling stool, pillow and blanket placed in the hallway of the ER with a curtain draped around it. Oh - and it was right next to the ice/water dispenser and blanket warmer. What lavish accommodations!), I finally left feeling better than I had in days.
I sure hope this bug is done with our household. It's left some marks on us (me) that we (I) won't be forgetting for quite some time.
Last Friday, my poor, sick little boy finally started to feel a little better. Hooray! (Cue the overly-dramatic "Dum, dum, dummmmm" music.)
Or so I thought. Turns out, the beast that had been living inside my dear child was just releasing its grip on him long enough to squirm its way into another body - mine. The result?
Saturday = complete and utter agony.
Sunday = I finally listened to my husband and drove myself over to Urgent Care, received some IV fluids (to ward off dehydration) and some IV Zofran, which until this stomach bug fiasco had been my saving grace for nausea-related instances. Four and a half hours later, I was on my way home, feeling considerably better than when I'd gone in. By 8:00 that evening, however, I was back to my vomiting self.
Monday = Back to Urgent Care. Blood tests, urine sample, more IV fluids, different IV anti-nausea medication. My results were as follows: viral stomach germ - no treatment other than Pedialyte and Reglan (the new anti-nausea med) to keep the deydration and vomiting at bay. No bladder infection. (By the way - Pedialyte? Did this Dr. know I was 28 years old?? Yep -- apparently this horrible-tasting little beverage has a unique characteristic in that its electrolytes are absorbed straight through the stomach lining and doesn't have to be fully digested in order to provide benefits to the body. Hm...still doesn't taste good.)
After another 3+ hours in Innovis (this time, because the ER and Urgent Care were so busy, I got a lovely "overflow room," which consisted of a gurney, rolling stool, pillow and blanket placed in the hallway of the ER with a curtain draped around it. Oh - and it was right next to the ice/water dispenser and blanket warmer. What lavish accommodations!), I finally left feeling better than I had in days.
I sure hope this bug is done with our household. It's left some marks on us (me) that we (I) won't be forgetting for quite some time.
Monday, March 8, 2010
6 Weeks and 3 Days
That's how far along we are in this pregnancy! Phew -- I've been debating whether it's too early to announce it to the world, but I've been at my bursting point for way too long...so announcing it I am.
I'm not foolish enough to believe we're in the clear yet, though. After all, I was eight weeks when we lost one before. However, as soon as I saw the two pink lines on the pregnancy test, I called my physician's office, went in for lab work, and discovered my hormone levels weren't spiking as they should have been. I've been on progesterone supplements since we found out about this little bun in my oven, and thankfully, they seem to be doing their job.
We had our first ultrasound on Friday, to make sure things were developing as they should. We got to see the baby's heart beat! And here is the craziest part: our ultrasound tech informed us that a fetus' (I don't particularly care for that term...) heart starts to beat between five weeks five days and five weeks six days, and according to her findings, I was at five weeks six days on Friday. She told us it was entirely possible that the little heart had just started beating within hours! Honestly, I didn't really care when exactly it had happened as long as we could see proof that things were going well so far. And that little heart beat sure calmed my fears for a good while.
So the plan is that I'll stay on the supplements through the first twelve weeks of pregnancy, when we are most susceptible to issues. We have another ultrasound scheduled at the end of March, just to make sure everything is still on track. We will also have our first doctor's visit, so hopefully by that time we can be even more confident that this pregnancy will result in an addition to our little family.
I've been praying, and praying, and praying. And I don't think I'll be stopping anytime soon.
Let this be the one!
I'm not foolish enough to believe we're in the clear yet, though. After all, I was eight weeks when we lost one before. However, as soon as I saw the two pink lines on the pregnancy test, I called my physician's office, went in for lab work, and discovered my hormone levels weren't spiking as they should have been. I've been on progesterone supplements since we found out about this little bun in my oven, and thankfully, they seem to be doing their job.
We had our first ultrasound on Friday, to make sure things were developing as they should. We got to see the baby's heart beat! And here is the craziest part: our ultrasound tech informed us that a fetus' (I don't particularly care for that term...) heart starts to beat between five weeks five days and five weeks six days, and according to her findings, I was at five weeks six days on Friday. She told us it was entirely possible that the little heart had just started beating within hours! Honestly, I didn't really care when exactly it had happened as long as we could see proof that things were going well so far. And that little heart beat sure calmed my fears for a good while.
So the plan is that I'll stay on the supplements through the first twelve weeks of pregnancy, when we are most susceptible to issues. We have another ultrasound scheduled at the end of March, just to make sure everything is still on track. We will also have our first doctor's visit, so hopefully by that time we can be even more confident that this pregnancy will result in an addition to our little family.
I've been praying, and praying, and praying. And I don't think I'll be stopping anytime soon.
Let this be the one!
Friday, January 8, 2010
Hmm...
For the most part, I don't like to delve too deep into the more personal, darker corners of my life here on Zesty. Occasionally, though, it's one of the best places to vent my frustrations, concerns, and painful experiences.
In October, I talked about this. However difficult it was (and sometimes, continues to be), I have stayed hopeful and mostly positive about the prospect of adding to our little family. So we waited until we got the go-ahead from our doctor, and started again.
The short version of this story?
Pregnancy test taken (two, actually...and done two days apart just to be sure).
Positive results.
Hours later...GONE.
Doctor visit (failed pregnancy).
More blood work.
Waiting for results.
Ugh. The waiting. I know I voiced my frustration about waiting for medical staff to return calls in my earlier post, as well. I truly do understand that I am not the only patient waiting for results...really, I do. But it doesn't make me want my results any less.
Matt asked me last night at the dinner table how I would take it if we got the news that I wasn't able to have any more children. Ohhhhhhhh, how I didn't want to go to that place. Voicing fears that had been tip-toeing around in my head for the last few months is so painful. So I took the safest route possible, and joked that we'd just have to con one of my sisters into being our surrogate. Really, I just wanted to yell and cry about how unfair that would be, and that he is never allowed to say things like that in my presence ever again.
But I didn't. And dinner continued with light conversations about things like the -87 degree wind chill (only a slight exaggeration) and what Avery did earlier in the day.
So today, hopefully, I'll finally get a call with my results. Again, I find myself praying harder than I probably have since October...and again I'm wondering why that is, and whether it's realistic for my prayer to be answered. I'm reminding myself that prayers are answered everyday, and in the next breath I'm reminding myself that prayers sometimes aren't answered at all how we'd like them to be; sometimes there's a whole different plan in store, and we have yet to find out what or why that is.
In October, I talked about this. However difficult it was (and sometimes, continues to be), I have stayed hopeful and mostly positive about the prospect of adding to our little family. So we waited until we got the go-ahead from our doctor, and started again.
The short version of this story?
Pregnancy test taken (two, actually...and done two days apart just to be sure).
Positive results.
Hours later...GONE.
Doctor visit (failed pregnancy).
More blood work.
Waiting for results.
Ugh. The waiting. I know I voiced my frustration about waiting for medical staff to return calls in my earlier post, as well. I truly do understand that I am not the only patient waiting for results...really, I do. But it doesn't make me want my results any less.
Matt asked me last night at the dinner table how I would take it if we got the news that I wasn't able to have any more children. Ohhhhhhhh, how I didn't want to go to that place. Voicing fears that had been tip-toeing around in my head for the last few months is so painful. So I took the safest route possible, and joked that we'd just have to con one of my sisters into being our surrogate. Really, I just wanted to yell and cry about how unfair that would be, and that he is never allowed to say things like that in my presence ever again.
But I didn't. And dinner continued with light conversations about things like the -87 degree wind chill (only a slight exaggeration) and what Avery did earlier in the day.
So today, hopefully, I'll finally get a call with my results. Again, I find myself praying harder than I probably have since October...and again I'm wondering why that is, and whether it's realistic for my prayer to be answered. I'm reminding myself that prayers are answered everyday, and in the next breath I'm reminding myself that prayers sometimes aren't answered at all how we'd like them to be; sometimes there's a whole different plan in store, and we have yet to find out what or why that is.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
I Got Sidetracked...
I really have been meaning to get back here and tell you about more of our favorite things. My little hopeful business venture got an unexpected endorsement this week, though.
Oh. Dear. Me.
I had hopes of starting my own day care out of our home. It was put on the back burner, though, after our propery managers failed to install the fence we were promised. So Avery and I have been content just doing as our hearts desire each day.
Until Tuesday!
I've got a little guy starting twice a week with me! It turns out, it's not what you know that gets you places -- it's WHO you know. (I know...we've all heard this before, but in this instance, it was proven to me indefinitely.) A lady who works with my mom at the clinic was looking for someone to watch her adorable nearly-one-year-old son two days a week (her mother watches said cutie the rest of the week).
So, please excuse me if I've been a bit distracted. I've been scrambling to insert all of the outlet covers and crawl around looking for other dangers to little beings.
Hopefully we'll get into a better rhythm after the holidays.
Until then,
Merry Christmas!
Oh. Dear. Me.
I had hopes of starting my own day care out of our home. It was put on the back burner, though, after our propery managers failed to install the fence we were promised. So Avery and I have been content just doing as our hearts desire each day.
Until Tuesday!
I've got a little guy starting twice a week with me! It turns out, it's not what you know that gets you places -- it's WHO you know. (I know...we've all heard this before, but in this instance, it was proven to me indefinitely.) A lady who works with my mom at the clinic was looking for someone to watch her adorable nearly-one-year-old son two days a week (her mother watches said cutie the rest of the week).
So, please excuse me if I've been a bit distracted. I've been scrambling to insert all of the outlet covers and crawl around looking for other dangers to little beings.
Hopefully we'll get into a better rhythm after the holidays.
Until then,
Merry Christmas!
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Seeing Red
*If you have a weak stomach, please don't read the rest of this post. Please.*
Sunday.
I went grocery shopping.
Concocted Pioneer Woman's Baba Ghanoush.
Made scalloped potatoes and ham for supper.
Tried to tell Avery he didn't need to watch Spiderman 3 for the fourth day in a row.
Washed the supper dishes.
Baked cookies for my grandma, who helps with her church's version of the "Welcome Wagon."
Washed baking dishes.
And started to miscarry.
Being nearly 8 weeks pregnant, the last thing I expected when I took a bathroom break was to find red-tinged toilet paper. My mother is a nurse, as I've mentioned, and she calmly and confidently told me not to get too worked up; that some women have spotting during pregnancy. I was to just monitor the situation and call my Dr's office in the morning.
So I did. I monitored the situation like a fanatic.
Every couple of hours I would sit straight up in bed, unable to shut off my mind and return to sleep. Is it worse? Has it stopped? I would try to fool myself into feeling confident, trying to walk slowly to my bathroom like I had all the reason in the world to take my time.
Like my brain wasn't clanging against my skull with jittery nervousness.
Like my hands weren't shaking uncontrollably.
Like my heart wasn't trying to pang its way out of my chest.
Like it wasn't a strong conscious effort to take a deep breath.
So with those shaking hands, I swiped again with the toilet paper. It was redder, darker, and there was more of it. And was it just my mind overworking, or was I feeling some cramping?
Each time I went to check, it was worse than the time before. My heart was plummeting to places that were shady with their incredible sadness and negativity, and each time it dove down there, I reeled it back in, attempting to stay positive.
When morning finally came, my husband kissed me and told me everything would be okay. He left for work, and I called my OB nurse...and left a message. I felt like I watched every damn minute tick by until she finally called back - nearly two hours later. She told me that some women experience bleeding between their 6th and 8th week of pregnancy, when the embryo burrows down into your uterine lining. She told me this doesn't happen to every woman, and it doesn't occur during every pregnancy. I was to come in for some blood tests to check my hormone levels. I was also told that some women's bodies don't produce enough progesterone to support pregnancy, and that if I had low levels, they could supplement them to help my body be more stable for the baby growing inside.
I called Matt. He was coming home to watch Avery so that I didn't have to keep track of a two-year-old while I had blood drawn.
I put in Spiderman 3 and headed for the shower. I undressed and looked down at my barely-showing belly.
What's happening? I wondered for the hundredth time in about 8 hours.
I said a little prayer and stepped into the shower. (Why do I only think to pray when things are scary or not going well? What makes me think my prayers will be answered? For someone who isn't incredibly religious, it seems a bit pathetic to reach out to God when I don't regularly make Him a part of my daily life.)
As I felt the hot water stream down my body, I looked down. And saw clots. Horrible, deep scarlet splotches dropping to the floor of my shower, and being quickly whisked down the drain. I made myself look up and continued showering. I finished, stepped out of the shower, and hoped the worst was done.
The cramping wasn't my imagination, and it continued.
Matt returned home, and I left for the clinic. After I registered, I entered the lab waiting room. Do you know how many large, pregnant bellies one sees on a Monday morning in the lab? Thirteen. I counted. And that was in a 20 minute time frame. Finally my name was called, and I followed the phlebotomist back to have my blood drawn. I have "terrible veins" apparently, and watching the vile woman wriggle that needle in my arm, searching frantically for my vein just about put me over the edge. But I just closed my eyes, grit my teeth, and imagined bashing her head against the Band-Aid dispenser.
I was told that it should take only an hour to have the results back. I was to call my OB nurse again and let her know we were awaiting my results. I had left the clinic at 10:45 that morning, so by my calculations, I should have my results by noon - at the latest.
I tried to show I was cool, calm, and collected - I waited until 11:51 to call. And left another message. I endured their insanely long, informative but infuriating voicemail message about pregnant women needing to get flu shots, and how their line is answered "between the hours of 8 am and 5 pm. We are not available to take your call right now, so please leave your name, date of birth, chart number, your doctor's name, and contact number, and we will return your call as soon as we are able."
Which turned out to be three minutes before 2 pm. Do you know how evil your mind can be in that length of time? Very.
It turns out my Hcg (pregnancy hormone) and progesterone were extremely low. I was told that the normal level for a pregnant woman's progesterone is 20 - mine was 1.4. And the tale I was told about getting this hormone supplemented, should it be lower than normal? Apparently a pregnancy is only worth "saving" if your levels are 10 or above. The OB nurse informed me that it's best "just wait and see how things play out. We don't want to try and save a bad pregnancy."
Wow. Did this woman take lessons to become cold and careless with her words?
I sat propped against the pillows in my bed.
I tried to stay calm.
And dammit, I needed to pee. I was beginning to despise the bathroom. Every time I entered, I would cling desperately to the hope that maybe this time I wouldn't see blood. And every time the bleeding was worse.
I hadn't cried yet after hanging up with the nurse. On my way out of the bathroom Matt asked me how I was. Evidently he hadn't heard the phone ring; he didn't know of our news. All I could manage was, "The nurse called back. Not good." Then I scurried back into my cave/room and burrowed into the covers. I just wanted to sink in and never surface again. I rolled onto my side, facing the closet, and saw all of the maternity clothes hanging there. I looked down, and at the foot of my bed was the double stroller I had purchased at a garage sale only a couple weeks earlier.
I was sobbing so hard I thought surely I would wake Avery from his nap.
How could this be happening? We wanted this baby. It was no accident that we were expecting! And after two unplanned pregnancies before this one with no problems to speak of, why this? Why us?
---------------------------------------------
I have to go in today for more blood work. They will need to check whether my body has done its job and pushed everything through, or whether a doctor will have to assist with completing that job. It's called a D & C. And I am desperately hoping that it's not necessary.
I believe I'm a strong woman.
I know I will get through this. And I know we will try again when we're told it's safe. But I know there will be fear of this happening again. And I believe it will make me more reserved and cautious about announcing a pregnancy, should we be fortunate enough to have another.
The absolute only positive thing that has come from this is that I look at Avery and see a miracle. The stars aligned, we were blessed, everything went as it should have with his fetal development.
Of that, I am now so incredibly grateful.
Sunday.
I went grocery shopping.
Concocted Pioneer Woman's Baba Ghanoush.
Made scalloped potatoes and ham for supper.
Tried to tell Avery he didn't need to watch Spiderman 3 for the fourth day in a row.
Washed the supper dishes.
Baked cookies for my grandma, who helps with her church's version of the "Welcome Wagon."
Washed baking dishes.
And started to miscarry.
Being nearly 8 weeks pregnant, the last thing I expected when I took a bathroom break was to find red-tinged toilet paper. My mother is a nurse, as I've mentioned, and she calmly and confidently told me not to get too worked up; that some women have spotting during pregnancy. I was to just monitor the situation and call my Dr's office in the morning.
So I did. I monitored the situation like a fanatic.
Every couple of hours I would sit straight up in bed, unable to shut off my mind and return to sleep. Is it worse? Has it stopped? I would try to fool myself into feeling confident, trying to walk slowly to my bathroom like I had all the reason in the world to take my time.
Like my brain wasn't clanging against my skull with jittery nervousness.
Like my hands weren't shaking uncontrollably.
Like my heart wasn't trying to pang its way out of my chest.
Like it wasn't a strong conscious effort to take a deep breath.
So with those shaking hands, I swiped again with the toilet paper. It was redder, darker, and there was more of it. And was it just my mind overworking, or was I feeling some cramping?
Each time I went to check, it was worse than the time before. My heart was plummeting to places that were shady with their incredible sadness and negativity, and each time it dove down there, I reeled it back in, attempting to stay positive.
When morning finally came, my husband kissed me and told me everything would be okay. He left for work, and I called my OB nurse...and left a message. I felt like I watched every damn minute tick by until she finally called back - nearly two hours later. She told me that some women experience bleeding between their 6th and 8th week of pregnancy, when the embryo burrows down into your uterine lining. She told me this doesn't happen to every woman, and it doesn't occur during every pregnancy. I was to come in for some blood tests to check my hormone levels. I was also told that some women's bodies don't produce enough progesterone to support pregnancy, and that if I had low levels, they could supplement them to help my body be more stable for the baby growing inside.
I called Matt. He was coming home to watch Avery so that I didn't have to keep track of a two-year-old while I had blood drawn.
I put in Spiderman 3 and headed for the shower. I undressed and looked down at my barely-showing belly.
What's happening? I wondered for the hundredth time in about 8 hours.
I said a little prayer and stepped into the shower. (Why do I only think to pray when things are scary or not going well? What makes me think my prayers will be answered? For someone who isn't incredibly religious, it seems a bit pathetic to reach out to God when I don't regularly make Him a part of my daily life.)
As I felt the hot water stream down my body, I looked down. And saw clots. Horrible, deep scarlet splotches dropping to the floor of my shower, and being quickly whisked down the drain. I made myself look up and continued showering. I finished, stepped out of the shower, and hoped the worst was done.
The cramping wasn't my imagination, and it continued.
Matt returned home, and I left for the clinic. After I registered, I entered the lab waiting room. Do you know how many large, pregnant bellies one sees on a Monday morning in the lab? Thirteen. I counted. And that was in a 20 minute time frame. Finally my name was called, and I followed the phlebotomist back to have my blood drawn. I have "terrible veins" apparently, and watching the vile woman wriggle that needle in my arm, searching frantically for my vein just about put me over the edge. But I just closed my eyes, grit my teeth, and imagined bashing her head against the Band-Aid dispenser.
I was told that it should take only an hour to have the results back. I was to call my OB nurse again and let her know we were awaiting my results. I had left the clinic at 10:45 that morning, so by my calculations, I should have my results by noon - at the latest.
I tried to show I was cool, calm, and collected - I waited until 11:51 to call. And left another message. I endured their insanely long, informative but infuriating voicemail message about pregnant women needing to get flu shots, and how their line is answered "between the hours of 8 am and 5 pm. We are not available to take your call right now, so please leave your name, date of birth, chart number, your doctor's name, and contact number, and we will return your call as soon as we are able."
Which turned out to be three minutes before 2 pm. Do you know how evil your mind can be in that length of time? Very.
It turns out my Hcg (pregnancy hormone) and progesterone were extremely low. I was told that the normal level for a pregnant woman's progesterone is 20 - mine was 1.4. And the tale I was told about getting this hormone supplemented, should it be lower than normal? Apparently a pregnancy is only worth "saving" if your levels are 10 or above. The OB nurse informed me that it's best "just wait and see how things play out. We don't want to try and save a bad pregnancy."
Wow. Did this woman take lessons to become cold and careless with her words?
I sat propped against the pillows in my bed.
I tried to stay calm.
And dammit, I needed to pee. I was beginning to despise the bathroom. Every time I entered, I would cling desperately to the hope that maybe this time I wouldn't see blood. And every time the bleeding was worse.
I hadn't cried yet after hanging up with the nurse. On my way out of the bathroom Matt asked me how I was. Evidently he hadn't heard the phone ring; he didn't know of our news. All I could manage was, "The nurse called back. Not good." Then I scurried back into my cave/room and burrowed into the covers. I just wanted to sink in and never surface again. I rolled onto my side, facing the closet, and saw all of the maternity clothes hanging there. I looked down, and at the foot of my bed was the double stroller I had purchased at a garage sale only a couple weeks earlier.
I was sobbing so hard I thought surely I would wake Avery from his nap.
How could this be happening? We wanted this baby. It was no accident that we were expecting! And after two unplanned pregnancies before this one with no problems to speak of, why this? Why us?
---------------------------------------------
I have to go in today for more blood work. They will need to check whether my body has done its job and pushed everything through, or whether a doctor will have to assist with completing that job. It's called a D & C. And I am desperately hoping that it's not necessary.
I believe I'm a strong woman.
I know I will get through this. And I know we will try again when we're told it's safe. But I know there will be fear of this happening again. And I believe it will make me more reserved and cautious about announcing a pregnancy, should we be fortunate enough to have another.
The absolute only positive thing that has come from this is that I look at Avery and see a miracle. The stars aligned, we were blessed, everything went as it should have with his fetal development.
Of that, I am now so incredibly grateful.
Friday, October 2, 2009
The Great Medical Facility Debate
We've had to make a decision about where we are going to doctor with this little baking bun.
I've been a medical receptionist off and on for almost five years, and I've worked for both medical facilities in our small community. They each have their pros and cons, so it was sort of daunting to decide where we will spend our considerable bun-birthing dollars.
There are a number of factors that played into our final decision. The first, and probably most important, is that both of my previous deliveries took place at Innovis Health. I had no prenatal care with baby number one (that's a story for another time...), but feel that the birthing process and the care given were certainly as accommodating and genuine as one could have hoped for in that situation. (Did that make any sense?)
Four years after that first delivery, my husband and I found ourselves in need of an obstetrician for our first baby together. So who would we choose? Why, the same man who delivered baby number one, of course! Dr. Greg Glasner is an extremely likable, caring, and knowledgeable physician. However, he is now the CEO of Innovis Health, which means he now spends more time attending board meetings than he does delivering babies. Bummer for us.
So now we virtually have a blank slate. Who to choose?
After Avery was born, his heart condition required us to see a pediatric cardiologist (he has an ASD and a VSD, in case you're wondering). It turns out the only one in town was located at MeritCare. So off we went, MeritCare newbies, lost in a maze of criss-crossing hallways and a sea of other patients. And while Dr. Rodrigo Rios took wonderful care of our worries and our tiny boy, we were never tempted to turn all of Avery's care over to MeritCare.
Perhaps it could be said that most of my loyalty to Innovis (formerly Dakota Clinic) is due to family roots. My mother is a nurse, and has worked for Dakota Clinic for many years. Growing up, I was always taken there for illnesses, check-ups, and annual sports physicals. This is also where my parents were hospitalized each time my dad had a heart attack/stroke, and my mother had cardioversions to treat her congestive heart failure. Anyway, you get the point: lots of strong, deep roots.
Then, when I went back to work full time after Avery was born, I just happened to get a position with MeritCare. To be honest, I felt a bit like a traitor. But take the job, I did, and I can honestly tell you it was the best fit I've ever had in the employment arena. (I say this past-tense only because my child apparently has issues with daycares, and I am now his full time care provider again.)
Ok...back on track, Megan.
For insurance coverage purposes, one who is employed by MeritCare doctors with MeritCare (otherwise you get screwed up the wazoo with out-of-network costs). So we chose a new pediatrician for Avery, and Matthew and I chose MeritCare providers for ourselves.
So, do we stick with our new network of caregivers? Or do we go back to the providers we know and love...a network of people we've known for years and years?
The unknown is scary. Would the MeritCare labor and delivery nurses be as good, as compassionate, as patient as they were at Innovis? Would the lactation consultant be as understanding, helpful, and encouraging? And possibly the most important question: Would the doctor who has gotten to know us during all of our prenatal visits be the one to deliver our baby? Would he remember my name? My husband's name? Our son's name? Whether we were expecting a boy or a girl - or, heaven forbid, more than one baby?
Also, I have given birth twice without an epidural. I have not needed the surgical expertise of a medical doctor. If this area offered one, I may even have opted for a birthing center, rather than a hospital setting for this baby's birth. I plan to go as naturally as possible again this time.
The answer is that for us, Innovis Health is the right choice. We know them. We don't always love every teeny tiny thing about them, but at least we know their flaws, and we can accept them. We have chosen Terry Burrell this time around. After Dr. Glasner moved on to administrative duties, I saw Terry for an annual check-up, and liked him. He's also a CNM, which means I will be one step closer to a more natural birth. MeritCare, I discovered, does not offer any midwives for prenatal care or delivery.
Sometime in May (most likely), you will find us on the sixth floor of Innovis Health. I'll be exhausted and uncomfortable, but I'll be content and happy, too, knowing we made the right decision for our little family.
I've been a medical receptionist off and on for almost five years, and I've worked for both medical facilities in our small community. They each have their pros and cons, so it was sort of daunting to decide where we will spend our considerable bun-birthing dollars.
There are a number of factors that played into our final decision. The first, and probably most important, is that both of my previous deliveries took place at Innovis Health. I had no prenatal care with baby number one (that's a story for another time...), but feel that the birthing process and the care given were certainly as accommodating and genuine as one could have hoped for in that situation. (Did that make any sense?)
Four years after that first delivery, my husband and I found ourselves in need of an obstetrician for our first baby together. So who would we choose? Why, the same man who delivered baby number one, of course! Dr. Greg Glasner is an extremely likable, caring, and knowledgeable physician. However, he is now the CEO of Innovis Health, which means he now spends more time attending board meetings than he does delivering babies. Bummer for us.
So now we virtually have a blank slate. Who to choose?
After Avery was born, his heart condition required us to see a pediatric cardiologist (he has an ASD and a VSD, in case you're wondering). It turns out the only one in town was located at MeritCare. So off we went, MeritCare newbies, lost in a maze of criss-crossing hallways and a sea of other patients. And while Dr. Rodrigo Rios took wonderful care of our worries and our tiny boy, we were never tempted to turn all of Avery's care over to MeritCare.
Perhaps it could be said that most of my loyalty to Innovis (formerly Dakota Clinic) is due to family roots. My mother is a nurse, and has worked for Dakota Clinic for many years. Growing up, I was always taken there for illnesses, check-ups, and annual sports physicals. This is also where my parents were hospitalized each time my dad had a heart attack/stroke, and my mother had cardioversions to treat her congestive heart failure. Anyway, you get the point: lots of strong, deep roots.
Then, when I went back to work full time after Avery was born, I just happened to get a position with MeritCare. To be honest, I felt a bit like a traitor. But take the job, I did, and I can honestly tell you it was the best fit I've ever had in the employment arena. (I say this past-tense only because my child apparently has issues with daycares, and I am now his full time care provider again.)
Ok...back on track, Megan.
For insurance coverage purposes, one who is employed by MeritCare doctors with MeritCare (otherwise you get screwed up the wazoo with out-of-network costs). So we chose a new pediatrician for Avery, and Matthew and I chose MeritCare providers for ourselves.
So, do we stick with our new network of caregivers? Or do we go back to the providers we know and love...a network of people we've known for years and years?
The unknown is scary. Would the MeritCare labor and delivery nurses be as good, as compassionate, as patient as they were at Innovis? Would the lactation consultant be as understanding, helpful, and encouraging? And possibly the most important question: Would the doctor who has gotten to know us during all of our prenatal visits be the one to deliver our baby? Would he remember my name? My husband's name? Our son's name? Whether we were expecting a boy or a girl - or, heaven forbid, more than one baby?
Also, I have given birth twice without an epidural. I have not needed the surgical expertise of a medical doctor. If this area offered one, I may even have opted for a birthing center, rather than a hospital setting for this baby's birth. I plan to go as naturally as possible again this time.
The answer is that for us, Innovis Health is the right choice. We know them. We don't always love every teeny tiny thing about them, but at least we know their flaws, and we can accept them. We have chosen Terry Burrell this time around. After Dr. Glasner moved on to administrative duties, I saw Terry for an annual check-up, and liked him. He's also a CNM, which means I will be one step closer to a more natural birth. MeritCare, I discovered, does not offer any midwives for prenatal care or delivery.
Sometime in May (most likely), you will find us on the sixth floor of Innovis Health. I'll be exhausted and uncomfortable, but I'll be content and happy, too, knowing we made the right decision for our little family.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
It's Official!
WE ARE PREGNANT!
If you're a Facebook friend, you've known this for a couple days. I apologize for not updating all of my online friends at the same time, but I had a couple of reasons. The first is that I wanted to post a dorky picture of me holding my positive home pregnancy tester stick here, and since I can't find the cord which connects my camera to my computer, I've been held up. Also, it's still quite early, and I feel as though shouting this pregnancy from the rooftops may jinx it.
Our first visit to the Dr's office is 10-7 (which is apparently just to have bloodwork done and to get my information packet from the OB nurse). Our first Dr's visit - when we get to listen to the heartbeat for the first time! - is 10-21. So as time creeps on, I am growing more and more confident that I won't jinx myself, after all.
We are so excited! Matt is a huge bundle of nerves, but that's my hubby for you. I'm starting to wonder what Avery's reaction will be when this baby is born and he discovers that I have not just given birth to his two-year-old cousin. I think we may just spend the next 7+ months clarifying the situation.
If you're a Facebook friend, you've known this for a couple days. I apologize for not updating all of my online friends at the same time, but I had a couple of reasons. The first is that I wanted to post a dorky picture of me holding my positive home pregnancy tester stick here, and since I can't find the cord which connects my camera to my computer, I've been held up. Also, it's still quite early, and I feel as though shouting this pregnancy from the rooftops may jinx it.
Our first visit to the Dr's office is 10-7 (which is apparently just to have bloodwork done and to get my information packet from the OB nurse). Our first Dr's visit - when we get to listen to the heartbeat for the first time! - is 10-21. So as time creeps on, I am growing more and more confident that I won't jinx myself, after all.
We are so excited! Matt is a huge bundle of nerves, but that's my hubby for you. I'm starting to wonder what Avery's reaction will be when this baby is born and he discovers that I have not just given birth to his two-year-old cousin. I think we may just spend the next 7+ months clarifying the situation.
Monday, September 14, 2009
"Teghan baby"
***Have you ever tried to do a photo session of just you and someone else using a camera that has a little weight distribution problem (don't get me wrong, I LOVE my D60, but trying to just point it at yourself at arm's length is exremely difficult!)?
Anyway, I'm getting a little off the topic. Matt and I have been talking to Avery for the past six months or so about how he'd feel about having a little baby brother or sister. So far, he's really excited about the whole idea! (Not that we have news for y'all, because we don't YET.) And when asked if he'd like a baby brother or a baby sister, he states very emphatically, "I want a Teghan baby."
Teghan is Avery's cousin, whom he doesn't get to see often. She lives in Nebraska with her mommy and my in-laws. But the few occasions he's been able to bond with Teghan, he's loved every moment of it. Yes, part of that time is spent being the older (by three months) bully. But the majority of it was wonderful! At least from the mama's perspective...
My loving husband has only sisters - his own, whose name is also Megan, and my two, Danielle and Jessica. He has seen for himself the drama and mood swings that come along with having females in a household. Because of this, he has proclaimed that he will never have a girl - he even states he doesn't "make girls." Mmm hmmm. Yup. His "swimmers only make boys."
Well, Matthew, I have my heart set on a girl. And yes, as long as the baby is healthy I truly don't care about the sex. But darn it, if your negative attitude is the only thing keeping us from getting sugar and spice and everything nice, I'm gonna be a mama with one huge chip on her shoulder.
And trust me, you don't wanna cross this mama.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Mine! Mine! Mine!
I alluded to the fact that Avery may have some issues with sharing.
So this book really caught my eye. (I don't know who Amazon is kidding. $45 plus shipping for this book new? And used copies starting at $28 plus shipping? I guess we really got a good deal at $1.99!)
Anyway, I'd like to confess something: I'm a sucker for rhyming. Add to that some cute dinosaurs and a very good lesson, and I'm really sold.
I love the crazy, unbalanced look in his eyes. His mama is NOT proud of this moment.
As if that first display wasn't bad enough, he then steals everyone's snacks. (I'd have probably thought about stealing the scones, too. Man, those babies are delicious!)
In the pages to follow, somehow this selfish, wacky guy learns his lesson, though.
I'm sure his mama is breathing a huge sigh of relief.
So this book really caught my eye. (I don't know who Amazon is kidding. $45 plus shipping for this book new? And used copies starting at $28 plus shipping? I guess we really got a good deal at $1.99!)
Anyway, I'd like to confess something: I'm a sucker for rhyming. Add to that some cute dinosaurs and a very good lesson, and I'm really sold.
I love the crazy, unbalanced look in his eyes. His mama is NOT proud of this moment.
As if that first display wasn't bad enough, he then steals everyone's snacks. (I'd have probably thought about stealing the scones, too. Man, those babies are delicious!)
In the pages to follow, somehow this selfish, wacky guy learns his lesson, though.
I'm sure his mama is breathing a huge sigh of relief.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Books, books, books
Oh, how we LOVE books!
Well, I should clarify. Avery and I LOVE books...Avery's daddy - not so much. I'm okay with it, though. If I can't convert my husband, I'm at least going to make sure my children appreciate all the wonderful, out-of-this-world, imagination-tickling places books can take us.
A couple weeks ago, Avery and I stopped by Savers and spent the majority of our time searching for books that would appeal to a 2 1/2 year-old. We found some real winners! And not only did we get a great deal (eight hardcover books for less than $2.00 a piece), but they have really become some of our favorites.
In my next posts, I'm going to share them with you. And we're going to start today with my favorite out of the bunch, "Five Nice Mice" presented by Chisato Thashiro, translated from the Japanese by Sayako Uchida, and adapted by Kate Westerlund. (Phew! Jennifer, if I didn't do that correctly, please look away now and pretend I was never your student!)
Not only is this story adorable -- I mean, come on, mice and frogs??? How could it not be cute? -- but the pictures are endearing, too. Here, I'll show you!
Now, I'm not going to tell you the whole story, but here are a few of the highlights:
In this scene, the mice have just come from a concert performed by frogs, and have been inspired to start a band. They hunt around for items to transform into instruments. See the can of tomatoes and the pencils? They're my favorite.
The completed instruments! They practice very hard so they can put on their own concert. Don't you just love the lollipop drumsticks?
Near the end, mice and frogs have joined together to make beautiful music.
This one is Avery's favorite. They played so long and so hard, they just wore themselves out!
By the way, this book is part of Dolly Parton's Imagination Library. Just in case that matters to you.
Tomorrow: "The Mine-O-Saur" by Sudipta Bardhan-Quallen and illustrated by David Clark. Betcha can't guess my reasons for buying this one! The fact that this has become Avery's favorite could be taken two ways: either a) it is seeping into his little brain, switching a little lightbulb on in the sharing department of his brain, or b) he IS the Mine-O-Saur.
Let's hope for the first option, shall we?
Well, I should clarify. Avery and I LOVE books...Avery's daddy - not so much. I'm okay with it, though. If I can't convert my husband, I'm at least going to make sure my children appreciate all the wonderful, out-of-this-world, imagination-tickling places books can take us.
A couple weeks ago, Avery and I stopped by Savers and spent the majority of our time searching for books that would appeal to a 2 1/2 year-old. We found some real winners! And not only did we get a great deal (eight hardcover books for less than $2.00 a piece), but they have really become some of our favorites.
In my next posts, I'm going to share them with you. And we're going to start today with my favorite out of the bunch, "Five Nice Mice" presented by Chisato Thashiro, translated from the Japanese by Sayako Uchida, and adapted by Kate Westerlund. (Phew! Jennifer, if I didn't do that correctly, please look away now and pretend I was never your student!)
Not only is this story adorable -- I mean, come on, mice and frogs??? How could it not be cute? -- but the pictures are endearing, too. Here, I'll show you!
Now, I'm not going to tell you the whole story, but here are a few of the highlights:
In this scene, the mice have just come from a concert performed by frogs, and have been inspired to start a band. They hunt around for items to transform into instruments. See the can of tomatoes and the pencils? They're my favorite.
The completed instruments! They practice very hard so they can put on their own concert. Don't you just love the lollipop drumsticks?
Near the end, mice and frogs have joined together to make beautiful music.
This one is Avery's favorite. They played so long and so hard, they just wore themselves out!
By the way, this book is part of Dolly Parton's Imagination Library. Just in case that matters to you.
Tomorrow: "The Mine-O-Saur" by Sudipta Bardhan-Quallen and illustrated by David Clark. Betcha can't guess my reasons for buying this one! The fact that this has become Avery's favorite could be taken two ways: either a) it is seeping into his little brain, switching a little lightbulb on in the sharing department of his brain, or b) he IS the Mine-O-Saur.
Let's hope for the first option, shall we?
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Lessons learned
Sounds like I'm going to share some kind of changed-my-life-forever life lesson, doesn't it?
Nope!
I'm referring to Avery's first swimming lesson, which was last Thursday evening at our local YMCA. You see, my boy is in love with water. We inflate his little floaties, put them on his arms, and in the time it takes you to uncap the sunscreen, Avery is already jumping off the dock and into the lake.
Because of this passion for water, Matt and I decided now is the perfect time to start some actual swimming lessons (lessons that go way beyond our, "Move your arms! Kick your legs! You're paddling just like a little puppy!"). We thought we'd capitalize on this situation, before Avery would have a chance to develop any sort of fear of water; large bodies of water, large fish, etc.
As it turns out, a child can't be enrolled into a swimming class on his own until he's three. (Do you see where this is going?) Which means that one of the loving adults in his life get to sign up with him, and accompany him in the pool. Did I mention this is SWIMMING LESSONS? And it requires a person to WEAR A SWIM SUIT?
I think I've become a fairly rational, level-headed adult. But the thought of donning a swim suit in front of other (slimmer, more glamorous) adults just about put me into panic mode. I trudged into the YMCA Thursday evening, though. I knew my little tadpole would benefit from these lessons, and I'm a mama, first and foremost.
Surprise! There were mamas just like me! Granted, there were some who were definitely slimmer, more glamorous, and just plain lovely, but I was so focused on the instructors and their lesson, I didn't have time to worry about how my thighs jiggled or how my post-pregnancy belly was still MIA.
And my little tadpole? Well, let's just say after having the freedom to do as he liked in the water at the lake, he had a slight problem with authority. At the end of the lesson, however, the instructors allowed the children to jump off the edge of the pool into their Mommy or Daddy's arms. Talk about leaving on a good note!
Three more classes to get through...then this winter after his birthday, he can be enrolled in a class on his own. Much as I hate to admit it, I think I'll breathe a sigh of relief knowing I don't have to squeeze into my swimsuit and accompany him in the public pool again.
Nope!
I'm referring to Avery's first swimming lesson, which was last Thursday evening at our local YMCA. You see, my boy is in love with water. We inflate his little floaties, put them on his arms, and in the time it takes you to uncap the sunscreen, Avery is already jumping off the dock and into the lake.
Because of this passion for water, Matt and I decided now is the perfect time to start some actual swimming lessons (lessons that go way beyond our, "Move your arms! Kick your legs! You're paddling just like a little puppy!"). We thought we'd capitalize on this situation, before Avery would have a chance to develop any sort of fear of water; large bodies of water, large fish, etc.
As it turns out, a child can't be enrolled into a swimming class on his own until he's three. (Do you see where this is going?) Which means that one of the loving adults in his life get to sign up with him, and accompany him in the pool. Did I mention this is SWIMMING LESSONS? And it requires a person to WEAR A SWIM SUIT?
I think I've become a fairly rational, level-headed adult. But the thought of donning a swim suit in front of other (slimmer, more glamorous) adults just about put me into panic mode. I trudged into the YMCA Thursday evening, though. I knew my little tadpole would benefit from these lessons, and I'm a mama, first and foremost.
Surprise! There were mamas just like me! Granted, there were some who were definitely slimmer, more glamorous, and just plain lovely, but I was so focused on the instructors and their lesson, I didn't have time to worry about how my thighs jiggled or how my post-pregnancy belly was still MIA.
And my little tadpole? Well, let's just say after having the freedom to do as he liked in the water at the lake, he had a slight problem with authority. At the end of the lesson, however, the instructors allowed the children to jump off the edge of the pool into their Mommy or Daddy's arms. Talk about leaving on a good note!
Three more classes to get through...then this winter after his birthday, he can be enrolled in a class on his own. Much as I hate to admit it, I think I'll breathe a sigh of relief knowing I don't have to squeeze into my swimsuit and accompany him in the public pool again.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
The proof's in the puddin'
I've denied my moderate road rage for quite some time. Most often, this occurs when my entire little family is in the car while I'm driving (usually as my husband reaches defensively toward his seat belt, making sure it is as secure as it should be).
I honestly felt that I was justified in my clever comments aimed at other vehicles on the road. I mean really, when the light is green, that means GO! If someone out there is trying to make a left turn out of a straight-bound lane, any law-abiding citizen should be letting them know of their mistake. And if there is an extremely rare horn honk now and then? They just deserved it, gosh darn it!
Here's the problem, though. Avery and I have been in the car together quite a bit lately (without my overly-dramatic, argumentative husband). The past three times my son and I have been in the car, stopped at a red light (with cars ahead of us), I've heard this statement hollered from the back seat:
"GO, DUDE!"
Yeesh.
1. Who knew I sounded like a washed-up surfer?
2. I hate it when my husband's right!
I honestly felt that I was justified in my clever comments aimed at other vehicles on the road. I mean really, when the light is green, that means GO! If someone out there is trying to make a left turn out of a straight-bound lane, any law-abiding citizen should be letting them know of their mistake. And if there is an extremely rare horn honk now and then? They just deserved it, gosh darn it!
Here's the problem, though. Avery and I have been in the car together quite a bit lately (without my overly-dramatic, argumentative husband). The past three times my son and I have been in the car, stopped at a red light (with cars ahead of us), I've heard this statement hollered from the back seat:
"GO, DUDE!"
Yeesh.
1. Who knew I sounded like a washed-up surfer?
2. I hate it when my husband's right!
Friday, January 9, 2009
We've Been Busy
As you can see, we've been busy with a few things around here. Tattoos, toilet training (which is slow, at its best), and eating stuff. And not just any old stuff. Yes, there's the usual crayon here and there. But in addition, almost a week ago now, this kid swallowed a nickel -- or at least I'd have bet good money that he had. As the days went by, and I found no coins in the dirty diapers, I started to think maybe I had just imagined Avery gagging and then swallowing hard...and then coming up a nickel short on the 15 cent deposit into his piggy bank.
But alas! Today I opened the average smelly diaper, and there it was! I'll spare you the photo I so badly wanted to take. But let me just tell you it didn't look like it does now when it went in.
I thought we were getting past this "Everything must go in my mouth!" stage. Evidently I was wrong.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Our Holiday in Photos
First of all, I realized this Christmas what a hassle it is to have to rely on everyone else to take photos of all the special moments you'd like captured on film. I was constantly chasing down my mother and sisters to catch these fleeting events. Then, last night, I realized an even bigger problem. I got some decent pictures of my family during the holidays, but none of them were accessible to me! I begged and pleaded with Danielle to stop over so I could download (upload?) her photos to my computer. Jessica is still in Minneapolis, so hers will have to wait.
In the meantime, you'll have to be content with these. At least until I get that darn Kodak replaced with my dream camera, the Nikon D60. ***Hint hint, Matthew. My birthday's coming up, you know.***
My parents thoroughly enjoyed the calendar we made using ArtsCow (Thanks, Jennifer, for the idea!). I think it will have to become a Christmas tradition.
This is what you get when this kid is hopped up on sugar for the better part of 48 hours.
Daddy did a great job picking out gifts for Avery!
Or were they for Daddy? (Matt is modeling Avery's Army helmet and goggles. The gadget belt, which holds a mini shovel, compass, flashlight, and walkie-talkie was just a bit small.) They were holed up in that tent for a good long while.
That adorable little horse is Charmin. He was mine when I was Avery's age. My family didn't have a strange liking for bathroom tissue...my father once owned a real live horse he named Charmin.
In the meantime, you'll have to be content with these. At least until I get that darn Kodak replaced with my dream camera, the Nikon D60. ***Hint hint, Matthew. My birthday's coming up, you know.***
My parents thoroughly enjoyed the calendar we made using ArtsCow (Thanks, Jennifer, for the idea!). I think it will have to become a Christmas tradition.
This is what you get when this kid is hopped up on sugar for the better part of 48 hours.
Daddy did a great job picking out gifts for Avery!
Or were they for Daddy? (Matt is modeling Avery's Army helmet and goggles. The gadget belt, which holds a mini shovel, compass, flashlight, and walkie-talkie was just a bit small.) They were holed up in that tent for a good long while.
That adorable little horse is Charmin. He was mine when I was Avery's age. My family didn't have a strange liking for bathroom tissue...my father once owned a real live horse he named Charmin.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
The Gift Dilemma
Ok, so after receiving some input (thanks, Jennifer!) about what to do about our gift opening professional, our wrapped Christmas gifts now have a temporary home.
See that pretty purple one next to the gigantic box of oatmeal? There is a little wagon filled with Lego-type blocks in that one. When I was still being silly (thinking he would leave the gifts alone if I just sat them in the middle of the living room), Avery tore it open and had blocks spread across the living room, dining room, kitchen, and bathroom. Uh huh. That'll be a fun one to clean up after every afternoon.
Oh, and see that plain white one that looks just like a shirt box with a green bow? Yeah, it is a shirt box. That's one of Matt's gifts - it mysteriously lost all its wrapping paper. And mommy was tired of re-wrapping, so it just got some tape to hold it shut and a bow.
And while we're discussing bows, have I ever mentioned we have a cat? If so, did I also mention he's the devil's own kitty? You see, he rips ornaments off our tree, and bats them around until they either A) break or B) get lost under the china hutch. Lovely. He also gnaws on wrapping paper and bows. Try to feel warm and fuzzy handing someone a gift that looks as though it was peppered by a shot gun at forty yards.
By the way, the 4th of July is my favorite holiday.
See that pretty purple one next to the gigantic box of oatmeal? There is a little wagon filled with Lego-type blocks in that one. When I was still being silly (thinking he would leave the gifts alone if I just sat them in the middle of the living room), Avery tore it open and had blocks spread across the living room, dining room, kitchen, and bathroom. Uh huh. That'll be a fun one to clean up after every afternoon.
Oh, and see that plain white one that looks just like a shirt box with a green bow? Yeah, it is a shirt box. That's one of Matt's gifts - it mysteriously lost all its wrapping paper. And mommy was tired of re-wrapping, so it just got some tape to hold it shut and a bow.
And while we're discussing bows, have I ever mentioned we have a cat? If so, did I also mention he's the devil's own kitty? You see, he rips ornaments off our tree, and bats them around until they either A) break or B) get lost under the china hutch. Lovely. He also gnaws on wrapping paper and bows. Try to feel warm and fuzzy handing someone a gift that looks as though it was peppered by a shot gun at forty yards.
By the way, the 4th of July is my favorite holiday.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Shepherd's Pie, Newborn Hats, and Laundry
Those are the three most blog-worthy items from my day.
1. Shepherd's Pie. I'd never made it before today. But what's not to like? Steaming hot veggies (corn, carrots, onion, and peas) and ground beef in a savory gravy topped with creamy mashed potatoes. Mmm mmmmmmm. And did I mention how much I love meals that can be served out of one dish? I do. I love them a lot. If you understood how vehemently I despise doing dishes, you'd comprehend this kind of love.
2. Newborn Hats. Not just for any newborn, either. Read this to find out more. I've never done anything that took much thought or effort when it comes to doing something for the benefit of others. I follow the SouleMama blog. I also adore Ree's blog, Confessions of a Pioneer Woman. Check them out, you won't be sorry. Anyway, the point is, both of these women have been focusing on what living conditions are like in Haiti. And so, after reading and learning more, I couldn't help but want to participate somehow. So I made half a dozen newborn hats from shirts that have been hanging - unworn - in my closet for who knows how long, and sent them off to Amanda Soule.
At a time of year when we're supposed give special thanks for loved ones, good health, and good fortune, I feel infinitely better knowing that someone out there may place a hat - sewn on my mother's sewing machine - on a tiny newborn's head and be grateful for it being there.
3. Laundry. Sweet Lord, the laundry. I did SEVEN loads of it today. And it's still not all done. I realize laundry is not a new concept. But I honestly think I deserve a little sympathy here. My nearly two-year-old boy pees, poops, and drops globs of food on his clothes almost hourly (okay, slight exaggeration, but you get the idea). But my husband! He's nearly as bad! Every morning, the love of my life wakes, showers, puts on a clean pair of boxers, undershirt, work shirt, jeans, and socks. He goes off, earns his day's wage, and returns home. Once inside the door, he throws his work shirt, undershirt, jeans, and socks on the floor, showers, and puts on FRESH boxers, t-shirt, and shorts...which he wears for approximately 4-5 hours. At bed time, he strips off the t-shirt and shorts, sleeping only in his boxers (I promise, y'all, this is as naughty as it's gonna get).
In the morning, we start this process all over again. And do you think he can wear the same shorts and t-shirt he wore the previous night again? No way! You see, after they were taken off, they were thrown on the floor. That's where the cat lays. So they're covered in cat hair. And we can't wear clothes that have cat hair on them. Sheesh.
1. Shepherd's Pie. I'd never made it before today. But what's not to like? Steaming hot veggies (corn, carrots, onion, and peas) and ground beef in a savory gravy topped with creamy mashed potatoes. Mmm mmmmmmm. And did I mention how much I love meals that can be served out of one dish? I do. I love them a lot. If you understood how vehemently I despise doing dishes, you'd comprehend this kind of love.
2. Newborn Hats. Not just for any newborn, either. Read this to find out more. I've never done anything that took much thought or effort when it comes to doing something for the benefit of others. I follow the SouleMama blog. I also adore Ree's blog, Confessions of a Pioneer Woman. Check them out, you won't be sorry. Anyway, the point is, both of these women have been focusing on what living conditions are like in Haiti. And so, after reading and learning more, I couldn't help but want to participate somehow. So I made half a dozen newborn hats from shirts that have been hanging - unworn - in my closet for who knows how long, and sent them off to Amanda Soule.
At a time of year when we're supposed give special thanks for loved ones, good health, and good fortune, I feel infinitely better knowing that someone out there may place a hat - sewn on my mother's sewing machine - on a tiny newborn's head and be grateful for it being there.
3. Laundry. Sweet Lord, the laundry. I did SEVEN loads of it today. And it's still not all done. I realize laundry is not a new concept. But I honestly think I deserve a little sympathy here. My nearly two-year-old boy pees, poops, and drops globs of food on his clothes almost hourly (okay, slight exaggeration, but you get the idea). But my husband! He's nearly as bad! Every morning, the love of my life wakes, showers, puts on a clean pair of boxers, undershirt, work shirt, jeans, and socks. He goes off, earns his day's wage, and returns home. Once inside the door, he throws his work shirt, undershirt, jeans, and socks on the floor, showers, and puts on FRESH boxers, t-shirt, and shorts...which he wears for approximately 4-5 hours. At bed time, he strips off the t-shirt and shorts, sleeping only in his boxers (I promise, y'all, this is as naughty as it's gonna get).
In the morning, we start this process all over again. And do you think he can wear the same shorts and t-shirt he wore the previous night again? No way! You see, after they were taken off, they were thrown on the floor. That's where the cat lays. So they're covered in cat hair. And we can't wear clothes that have cat hair on them. Sheesh.
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