Thursday, March 29, 2007

a day in the life...

It has been a month around here. I have been caring for sick kids, been sick myself, tried to unsuccessfully reign in the house after a few illnesses...you know, the hell ones home spirals down into when you just stop doing laundry or dishes.

We are back on the virus train again. Poor baby boy is so miserable. As far as sickness goes, it's just a nasty head cold. But there is something so sad about a bubbly baby turned lethargic with swollen gunky eyes, flaming pink cheeks and a rattle cough.

Additionally, we have been wading through sleep challenges with our baby boy. No big surprise because every time I am ready to shake things up, he is, alas, sick again! We have taken to sleeping on the living room floor. At first I thought it was sad and pathetic, but it is like having a hotel room suite to myself. No slinking into the bedroom for fear of waking the baby. No anxiety as I feel myself getting tired. In fact, baby boy only has woken up 2 times the last 2 nights of this experiment! That is a VAST improvement from the 4-8 times of night waking that has driven me to the limits of human sleep deprivation.

But, scourges of illness and night waking aside both kids always keep me laughing.

Today my little girl gave me a hysterical run down of her day at drop off play group. This conversation being the gem of it all:

Me: So, what did you do today?

diva child: Simone had a ring that her daddy give her and I wanna play with it but she said no and I sad and her sad too.

Me: Really? Well, it was her ring.

diva child: mommy her have a pink ring...her daddy buy it for her. I want my daddy to buy me a purple ring. I gonna call him and tell him that.

Me: Laughing. . . we can do that!

Hours later...I am on the phone talking to a friend

Diva child: Mooomy!!? Is that Daddy?!! Tell him I want him to buy me a purple ring!!!

Me: I'm not talking to Daddy, we will tell him about the ring later.

As little sicky boy hasn't left my arms all day, the afternoon escaped us and we soon heard 'big daddy' coming up the steps.

Diva child: Daddy! Daddy! Do you have my purple ring?!! My Purple Ring!!!!

Big Daddy has no idea what she is talking about and the diva child promptly dissolves in a puddle of tears as if her betrothed had forgotten to show up on the wedding day.

So, what's a big daddy to do? Once our girly settled down she was able to explain it all. My sweet tender husband will do anything to make the tears of a girl stop. He ran out to run some errands with her and managed to pick out the perfect plastic ring for his diva child.

On one had I fear indulging an immediate 'want' to have the thing that another child has. On the other hand, it was so clear that she wanted her daddy to give her a ring. Why that turned both my husband and I into a bunch of saps is still unclear to me. I think it was the trusting expectation that she expressed. She *knew* her daddy would give her the desire of her heart.

My sweet big daddy husband, being the egalitarian daddy that he is, had to buy something for little sicky too. Not that he noticed...but it was sweet.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

My baby's almost birthday

All month long I have been thinking of this day a bit. Tonight I was snuggled up with my baby big boy (who is walking now, by the way...) and I thought about how I curled myself around him in an uncomfortable hospital bed praying, crying, and praying some more.

I was 33 weeks and 4 days pregnant. I had thought that maybe my water had broken a few days earlier. I was keeping tabs on that and decided that it hadn't. I had my mom watch my little daughter so I could go to my midwifery appointment. I was pretty sure she was going to want to do a cervical check and I didn't want my 22 month old to be climbing all over me during that.

On my way to the appointment I was having contractions. I tend to have lots of contractions from week 30 on, but they were more than the '4 an hour' that the doctors caution against. When my midwife examined me she was very concerned and thought my water had broken. I will never forget the feeling of fear that engulfed me as I lay on my back, helpless and vulnerable, with my feet in the air. I started to sob and insisted that this wasn't happening and that my boy, who had yet to be named, was not coming tonight.

My midwife walked me across the street to the hospital and I was given a stack of paperwork to fill out. Who would be joining me in Labor and Delivery? I was snotty and pushed the papers back.

"Why do I need to fill this out? I am not having a baby today!" I could hear my midwife quietly talking to a L & D nurse. "Hey, I came over here to have more tests done to see what the status of my amniotic sac is, not to have a baby today!"

I flip through the papers : Do you give this hospital permission to treat your child? I burst into tears. "I am NOT having a baby right now, my husband isn't even here!"


They walk me out of faker labor and delivery, called 'triage' . I would become well acquainted with 'triage' during my 11 days of prodromal labor that were yet to come. I was practically on a first name basis with the residents and nurses by the time by babes actual birthday came!

I was ushered into a labor room and given a gigantic gown to put on. Muttering to myself that this is total bullshit and that I needed to get home to put my first baby to bed, I put on the gown. In walks an intern and a L & D nurse and the conversation starts like this:

"Hi, I am Dr. bla bla bla I see that you had a C-Section with your last baby, is that your plan for today?"

"I am totally NOT HAVING A BABY TODAY, AND IF I WERE IT WOULD BE A VBAC!!"

I totally lost it. For about the 30th time in an hour I explained the story.

I was walking around a store 3 days ago. I felt a big gush. I thought, Oh my god, did my water just break? I went to the bathroom. I went home and I rested. I made sure that I wasn't leaking any fluid. I made sure my bladder was empty. The baby is moving great, I feel great, I'm not leaking. Big misunderstanding....last time I bring anything up again. I'm a Birth Doula for crying out loud....I think I would know if my water was broken!

Next thing you know, I am hooked up to a monitor having contractions every 2 minutes. Now, I wasn't feeling them. I was sufficiently freaked out by being in the hospital all alone without my family. I all but abandoned my daughter whom I had never left for more than an hour or two. I didn't tell her I was going to be gone. I didn't tell her I wasn't coming back before bed. This was total crap. I knew the never-leaving-my-firstborn-child-ever thing was going to be changing with the birth of my second child. However, it didn't change the fact that, up until this point, I had not felt the need to leave her, and now I had to in the interest of baby number 2.

I called my husband. I told him to go home, get our girly dinner and to bed and to send my mom. When our girly was asleep he could trade off and come to me and bring me home. I told him that this was a huge over reaction and that, at worst, I would be out of there by morning after a bag of fluids and monitoring.

In walks my midwife. No, you are not going anywhere. In fact I want you to have steroid shots to rapidly mature your baby's lungs. Your son is going to be born sooner rather than later. We are sending people from the NICU to come and talk to you about his probable stay. We are going to try and stop your labor long enough for the steroids to work. But after your second shot we will let your labor begin.

NO NO NO I am NOT having a baby. I am not even feeling these contractions. I had an ultrasound and my levels of fluid were within the range of normal for my baby's gestational age.

I was beyond pissed. I was beyond scared. I was being treated like a person who is crazy and using denial to get through it all. I was told that I wasn't going anywhere and that I would be in the hospital, on bed rest, until the birth of my son.

I was given the most HORRID drug to stop my contractions. It was all the drunk and none of the fun. It blurred my vision and slurred my speech, but spared my mind. I lost muscle control and couldn't lift my arms or legs....they felt like they belonged to someone else. I had to be catheterized. I was burning hot and thirsty, but I couldn't drink much water because the water could flood my lungs and give me pneumonia. A nurse came and moved me around and gave me ice and cold cloths to keep me as comfortable as possible.

My husband came for a little while, and then I sent him home so that my daughter could have things be normal for as long as possible.

I was trying to imagine my world where my 'baby' girl at home who had really never been away from me could be without me for days to weeks. Who would take care of her? I'm a stay at home mom and my husband only has so much time off....time we were intentionally saving so we could 'babymoon' at home as a family.

I was being told that I would have a baby in the NICU. How would I be with my new son and pump breast milk and be mommy to my little girl at home? I would have to adjust my whole life and what I believed to be best for everyone to what was being thrown at me, against my will. I didn't want my baby to be far from me, I didn't even want him circumcised...how would I deal with watching him being poked and prodded and kept in a little plastic crib far from his mama??? All of these things swirled around my brain all night. Everyone tried to encourage me that his chances were really, really, good. The survival rates for 33 weekers were really great. Holy shit...they are talking to me about survival rates?!! He would have only a few weeks in the NICU. He would be fine long term. No big deal, right? I guess not if you work in labor and delivery and this is what you deal with every day...but this is my baby...my son.

My sobbing came in waves. All I really wanted was a normal pregnancy and birth. Now I would give all of it, in a heartbeat to keep my sweet boy inside. I talked to him. My husband and I named him that night. I couldn't bear the possibility of him being born and taken from me without a name.

I prayed and prayed. I had a sense of peace in the middle of it....it would be completely unraveled in a moment, and then it would come back. I just wanted my boy to be okay. I was mad at God and told him so. But I also cried out to him. I figure God is big enough to handle my anger and love in the same moment.

The next day I was the medical anomaly of the floor. The question of the day: Is Sarah's water actually broken? How can we know? There was a resident who thought this was total bullshit right along with me. I think I love him still to this day. He was the one who pushed for more testing. I was still on the stop-the-labor-drugs that made me feel really bad while everyone did their rounds and discussed my 'case'.

My mom and dad came...my husband came...my doula came. People came to stay with me. At one point everyone had left the room except my doula. All of a sudden I felt a massive wave of nausea hit me and then I felt myself start to go unconscious. I felt myself try to press the nurse call button and I heard myself say 'turn it off..the drugs turn it off' and then I passed out.

I was metabolizing the drugs at a very rapid rate. Because of this, my blood pressure dropped to 80/20. This was not good. I had been nagging them to turn down/off the meds for hours. Luckily, my doula had been in the room with me when I passed out and got the nurses in immediately. They stopped the meds. My wonderful nurse told me that I could eat once they stopped the meds. I must have been a very sad patient because I had captured the sympathy of all the floor nurses. She brought in a tray of food and promised to get the resident so I could inhale the food as soon as he gave the all clear.

So, to recap: we started off a normal prenatal visit, turned 'be admitted for some tests', turned did you want another c-section? turned the NICU is coming to talk to you about your eminent birth and baby's hospital stay, turned you will at least be here on bed rest the remainder of your pregnancy, turned maybe you are right and you can go home soon.

After all of that, my water seemed fine. Now, we will never know if it had a leak which resealed (that is something that is fairly common), or if everyone was in overreaction mode. Either way, I was elated that things were fine. A hospital Salisbury steak has never tasted so damn good. Yes, I relished every.last.bite. of a crappy hospital meal. It may have been gourmet meal as far as I was concerned. I was that hungry, tired, and grateful.

When the OB from my practice came around to talk to me and my husband I talked her into releasing me that night. They had wanted to keep me one more night and day. I promised to rest and stop seeing massage clients. All I wanted was my bed, my house, a shower, my jammies, and to hug by little girl. I was sent home on Friday night. Here is where a picture is worth a thousand words. I had my husband snap this photo of me in my bedraggled glory because the moment needed some sort of documentation:

I love the look of exhaustion coupled with 'what the hell just happened to me here?'

I will never forget the fragility and relief I felt that whole weekend. I was also quite angry about my blood pressure drop. I just kept thinking They could have killed me, for no reason at all...we almost died.

I just wanted to lay in bed with my husband as he held me and whispered to me that we are all okay. We had pancakes on Saturday morning and just lazed around the house together. It took a lot for me to move forward and forgive the over reaction of the midwife and the hospital staff. I tried to believe that maybe it had been a miracle that my water had broken and resealed. I still don't really know what to make of it all. All I know is that I am sitting here with big boy on my lap while he sucks his thumb and snuggles me. I'm really glad that we are just here and fine and healthy.




Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Stuffed Animals Gone Wild!!!

I am deeply concerned about the moral fabric of the stuffed animals that have been 'gifted' to my children. One night as I was dutifully picking up toys after a long day of mommying I happen upon this little scene:























Now, it has come to my attention that the stuffed animals seem to be 'multiplying' at an alarming rate around here. No surprise after I broke up this freaky stuffed animal party. I wondered if that bunny on the far right was passed out. I thought I smelled cheap beer as well.

Listen dear family and friends; maybe I am sick for seeing these things at the end of a long day. Or maybe, I am so desperate for a stuffed animal eugenics/sterilization program that I am, indeed, making myself vulnerable to show why we can no longer accept your morally bankrupt 'friends' into our home. It could happen at your home too!


Please, no more stuffed animals...I beg of you.

Monday, March 12, 2007

Fun or Pathetic? You choose!

Oh my...I have found the most fun and most awful website ever Online_Karaoke .

That's right everyone. I just woke up my husband by earnestly singing late nineties tunes, alone & sober to my computer at 11 o'clock at night.

Somethings really are better with real people around. It is quite fun and would be awfully cute to do with your kids and then send the link to grandma.

I am all over Old McDonald had a Farm first thing tomorrow!

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Melancholy

Sometimes I think I am totally crazy. Why does every last little thing have to hit me so pointedly in the heart? Sometimes I observe the people doing life around me and think they have it way more together than myself. Stories of suffering, loss, sorrow...they give me a lump in my throat and an emptiness in my stomach that is usually reserved for the person who is actually suffering. I suppose this makes me empathetic, which is a quality I admire in others and wish away in myself.
When I was playing piano frequently, I found I could pour a lot of these feelings into music. Such a great outlet. In fact, my dear, sweet piano teacher knew this little tidbit about my personality and told me I wouldn't really want to be any other way.

Some days I wish I could live an ignorant little life content with what I have and unaware of the pain and sadness around me. Reading an especially sad blog entry or article or book can put me in a funk for days. Highly sensitive much?

I can run into people and see through a veneer of happiness to a level that I feel uncomfortable. It's like some strange superpower that I don't want. How do you start that conversation? 'So you seem so great, but how are you really? I can feel your loneliness from across the room?'

How to win friends and influence people....

Friday, March 09, 2007

Tagged! Why I blog?

Many thanks to bubandpie for the tag !!

Five Reasons Why I blog...

1) Cause all the cool girls are doing it....

Well, my very first post (which was really a non post) basically was me admitting that since everyone else is doing it, why not me? Apparently, I really will jump off of a building if someone was doing it. Once I started lurking around the blogosphere, I really did wonder why not me? I love reading all kinds of blogs and thought I would throw my stream of consciousness musings out there to see if anyone else would read them.

2) I blog for my own enjoyment.

It is so fun to go from blog to blog through the various links. I really enjoy the whole 'mommy blog' genre. I like to read lots of other blogs as well, but the mommy ones are striking the strongest chord in me as it is most applicable to my life.
It has been a great creative outlet for me as well to write about the various things swirling around my head.

3) I like the connections I am making

Not 'connections' as in: let's do lunch and talk about the book deal (ha ha ha). I like how something as simple as a blog entry can bring a lot of random people together to read and comment. I like following witty comments to more witty blogs so that my afternoon flies away from me.

4) I like the sense of community

It is wonderful to read honest posts about people's lives. It feels more authentic than grocery store chit chat with my actual neighbors. Maybe this is a sad reason to blog. Maybe I need to talk to more flesh and blood people in my daily life. When was the last time you bumped into someone you kind of know and they were transparent and open while you drank a coffee? It rarely happens to me because, quite frankly, it would break a lot of social rules. People don't bare their souls in the line at Starbucks very often. I can hop on the Internet and get some really heartfelt reading done while I drink my coffee. It feels more authentic than a lot of my actual interactions on a daily basis. Maybe this reason makes me a little pathetic.

5) I like people to read my writing.

I started a blog a few years ago and felt very uncomfortable. I didn't really like that anyone could read what I was writing about. I stopped and gave some thought to what I wanted to 'put out there' and how it might feel. Even when I first started this on a whim I stopped for several months because I just wasn't sure I liked it. Now, I want the comments. I want people to read what I write. Mainly because it is fun. I'm not an expert on anything, but I have ideas I love to throw out into the universe. It is nice when it rings true for someone else.

And hey....I know my aunt and uncle are reading this (hi there...I'm waving at you!). I'm waiting for you two , (Especially you Uncle Tom) to get blogging and commenting yourselves!! I am outing you as lurkers! Consider yourselves tagged as well!

Now I tag Domestic Slacktress, Heather, and Karen. Why are you cool girls blogging?

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

So lets stick to blogging, its a lot less shrill than radio

So I couldn't help myself. I have become my grandmother who listens to talk radio while flitting about the kitchen cooking. However, something my grandmother *never* would have done was call in to one of her favorite am talk radio shows.

I was listening to a local show that was asking the question as to why 20 somethings are leaving the state of Connecticut after graduating from College. Well DUH! I'm so sure we needed an hour long show to discuss the ridiculous cost of living, unaffordable housing, Energy costs, and lack of anything fun to do in the red headed step child city of Hartford. There was discussion of all these young people who want instant gratification...they want their jobs to be 'meaningful' and 'fun'. Surely when they reach the ripe old age of 29 they will realize how unrealistic this is [yeah, once their soul has been crushed by the absurd amount of hours they have to work for a wage that doesn't really provide for all your needs easily; let alone have time to do something meaningful with that mysterious 'free time' we are all supposed to have].

I am getting really tired of the boomer assertions that we gen Xer's/ 'me' generation people are just so flawed and don't want to work hard. We want so much...meaning out of our lives. The idea that we 'want it all now' is crap. The fact of the matter is that we have to work very hard to make ends meet in a traditional sense while also having to put aside money for retirement as there is no such thing as retirement benefits, (be they pention or medical insurance) from the company when we reach 70 years of age. Wanting to purchase a home has long been an attainable middle class goal which is becoming increasingly more difficult to do.

I don't think it is unrealistic that one can work a job that gives the worker a sense of satisfaction. Nor do I think it unrealistic that someone who works full time should be able to afford decent housing in a place that is safe. The craziest thing of all is that I believe all people should have access to good, safe, schools AND housing, anywhere they live.

Here is a long excerpt from wikipedia .

Connecticut is, however, much more than the upscale suburbs of New York. Although it is the richest state in America, with approximately 83% of Connecticut municipalities above the national average per capita income, Connecticut nevertheless has many enclaves of poverty that are often overshadowed by the super-rich communities. 4.7% of Connecticut households have annual incomes of $200,000+, and 20.1% have incomes of $100,000 or more; but 7.0% have incomes of less than $10,000, and 31.8% less than $34,999. 7.9% of people living in Connecticut live below the poverty line. In contrast to the "Gold Coast", Bridgeport, New Haven and Hartford have significantly lower per-capita incomes .Connecticut has some of the largest gaps between the rich and poor in America, as the middle class flees urban areas as too expensive and unpleasant, leaving the poor to stay behind further burdening the cities' economies. However, this trend is starting to change in some areas, particularly downtown New Haven and Hartford, which have seen an influx of hundreds of luxury apartments and even million-dollar loft condominiums coinciding with a huge commercial and retail rebirth.Connecticut is also one of the most expensive states to live in the contiguous United States, with the price for a single family home in Greenwich starting at around $800,000. However, most of the state is much lower than this, but still above the national median.

I find it to be appalling that Connecticut can not find a way to provide affordable housing, and at least adequate schooling for everyone in the state. I like the little blurb in the above text that says the trend is changing because there are luxury condos being built in New Haven and Hartford. That ought to be helpful to the 31.8% of the population that makes less than $34,999 a year. We can just shuffle the poor people to some other town with bad schools and decrepit housing that is 'affordable'. I can just imagine young college grads flocking to luxury condos downtown so they can be in close proximity to the 4 bars in downtown Hartford. They will totally be able to afford those on a starting salary of $40,000...oh wait those aren't for them...they just want instant gratification!! Let Boston have em!

Anyway, all of this to say that as I had my 1 minute to make my point on air, it quickly became a shrill tirade about segregation, the cost of living, how my family could do so much better in the Midwest, and why isn't there reasonable public transportation in our state? Oh and throw in the 30% graduation rate from Hartford public schools and how it seems no one really cares. We all just gasp at how bad it is and then go back to our comfy suburbs...grateful that our kids don't have to go there.

The discrepancies between race and class in this state are enough to make you physically ill.

I have no idea how to make a difference being a white woman from the suburbs. I'm not rich, but I'm not living somewhere where I fear for my children and their basic needs. I am privileged enough to wonder if we can afford that play group next year...or swim lessons. Hardly the stuff that keeps me up at night. That does make me quite rich in a global sense.

All this and I haven't even started with health care. I will save that for another day. I sense I am gearing up for 2008...