My Grandma

My Grandma has passed away…

It wasn’t unexpected. We all knew it was coming. It seems like for the past three years now we have all known it could be any time. Every year we thought this could be her last Christmas or birthday so we need to make sure we spend time with her. And then another Christmas would come. And you would see her so full of joy and life and wonder if all of the diagnosis were really true. She was way, way up in the years. She lived a full life with an amazing amount of loved ones around her. So it isn’t a tragic death…and yet it is.
It is tragic because she was that one person in our family. Everybody has that one special person in their family that is kind of like a lightening rod in a way, attracting everybody to them. The one person that everyone is really looking forward to seeing and that one person that really makes you feel loved. She was ours. She was our glue. I have so many great memories of my Grandma. Especially those memories of getting in trouble with my cousins at her house. I remember that she always had Oreos and peppermints on the counter. It was such a special treat and I think that is where I got my preference for grasshopper flavored ice cream and candy. But I think the most special things that I will hold onto about my Grandma is the way she greeted me each and every time she saw me. She always stood up to greet me. No matter what was happening around her,and there was usually a whole gaggle of family and friends around her, as soon as she noticed me she would stand and give me the biggest hug. She would look me straight in the eyes and tell me how beautiful I was. And even on my worst days, when it came from her I believed it. She added the last part after we moved back from England. When I lived there for five years, I had an amazing support structure of friends and what I consider adopted family and I have very fond memories of the holidays that I spent with them there. But without fail every time that I would call home on a special occasion to talk to my family and hear everybody in the background, I got a little sad. I tried to hold back, but sometimes I would be wishing them a Merry Christmas through tears. I don’t think my grandma ever forgot that because after she would tell me how beautiful I was, she would tell me how happy she was that I was home. I will never forget the love that I felt from just those simple things.
It seems that I am fine one minute and the next I am a ball of tears.I didn’t think it would hurt this much. But I am not hurt for her. In fact, I have always believed and still do that if there was anyone that would be in heaven when they died it would be her. And I am not upset because she suffered or had a hard life. She died in her sleep, in her own bed, in her own home, with family beside her. No one could ask God for more of a blessing. She had a life full of joy, always with a song on her heart and on her lips. She laughed at herself more than she did anyone else and always rooted for the underdog. I don’t think I ever heard her raise her voice, although my dad assures me otherwise. I recently learned as we were looking through pictures that when she was young, she would roller skate everywhere. That is just how she was.
So in the end, I guess I am crying because that amazing light that we could all see in her is now gone from us. There is nothing that makes me more homesick for my heavenly home than knowing that her light is now there.
I forgot what it felt like to lose someone this close. It has been awhile. It is hard to concentrate and I often find myself thinking of her. Thinking of her life and wondering what it is like for her now. I have been thinking about heaven a lot. I think about what it was like when she finally went home. First of all, if I know anything about God and heaven, and I think I do, I know there are Oreos and peppermints there. And I believe when she finally arrived, she was greeted by Jesus as if she was the only one there. I believe while all of her loved ones gathered around and waited, Jesus gave her the best hug she had ever been given. He took her face in His hands and told her how beautiful she was. And then as He led her into paradise, He told her how glad He was that she was home.

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I recognize that kind of crazy!

Nausea, fatigue, tender breasts, bloating, frequent urination, food cravings or aversions….these are all tell tale signs of pregnancy. Most women experience these symptoms after a missed period and can tell that they are pregnant. But not me. Before I even missed my monthly I knew. I remember saying to myself…”I recognize that kind of crazy!”

It is the crazy that makes you roll your window down and alert the not so safe or caring drivers that you have a small child in your car. And advise them to take more precautions because if they wreck into you and harm your child, you would be obligated to follow them home and throw each person that they care about down a flight of stairs. Though I’m sure you would say this in a more polite manner than I.

It is also the crazy that makes you sob loudly because you missed the one day only Old Navy $1 Flip-flop sale. And you don’t even really need anymore flippy-floppys.

These are my alarm bells. But it seems that none of these instances are mentioned in the books under early symptoms of pregnancy. If you can’t tell from my previous posts. I hate the books. No, I can’t use the word hate. I loathe the books. They say that you will have nausea rather than saying you will be sick all day every day. You will feel sick before you eat, while you are eating, and after you eat. No amount of crackers is going to change this. They say that you will be tired rather than say you will fall asleep at 7:30 every night and still be tired when you wake up the next day. They say that you may have aversions to foods or their smells. They don’t say that one foul smelling item can ruin your entire week. Oh, and people will think this is funny and continually laugh and joke about it thus bringing back to your memory, and then you vomit in your mouth a little. Yeah, real funny jerks!

Since becoming pregnant with number two, I have added a few more annoying things to my list along with gum chewers, whistlers, and people who moo at pregnant people.
1. People who talk on their cell phone while driving AT 7AM! It annoys me enough that you are on the phone while driving hence paying no attention to those around you but who in the world are you talking to? What could you possibly need to discuss that can’t wait until you arrive at work. It is 7:00 in the morning. Unless you have an immediate family member living over seas and this is the only time that your schedules match up there is absolutely no need to be on the phone. If you call me before 9am on my cell phone…I’m sorry but I don’t think our friendship is going to work out. I don’t even talk to my husband before 9am. I certainly don’t want to speak to anyone else unless there is an emergency.
2. If I order a large fry, I want a large fry dagnabbit. I don’t want a medium fry in a large fry box. I realize you use the same scooper for all the sizes but sometimes you have to scoop more than once. The next time this happens, I might demand the extra 35 cents back that I paid to get the large. I might even throw the fries back in their face. We’ll just have to see how the day is going.
3. I am jealous of people who get to sleep later than I do. I’ll admit it, I’m a sinner. I covet their ability to sleep in. As I roll to the daycare and then to work at 7am I drive by all these houses where everyone has two cars still in the driveway. People are out for a bike ride. Some are watering flowers. Who has time for this? When do they have to be at work, noon? I barely have time to eat breakfast. And by breakfast I mean grab a banana and granola bar. I wake up at 5:30. What unearthly hour do you have to wake up to have time for a bike ride? I day dream about a leisurely morning. One that involves the paper and hot chocolate while listening to the birds sing. My morning on the other hand involves lots of crying and barking and an all out circus with the elephants and clowns. If I am lucky, I get to work on time. And then I think about all those still in bed and I cry!

Ok, I will attempt to bottle up my crazy now and appear normal. Until next time…

Here is my most recent favorite picture of James. He is almost 17 months.

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Cake!

Last night we had a small birthday party for my big boy James. He turned one yesterday and although we are having his big birthday celebration later, we wanted to do something for him last night as well.

So we gave him cupcakes!
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This is a boy who has never had more sugar than an organic banana cookie. The look on his face when he realized that it was all for him was priceless.
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He’s never known a love like this before!
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I think he went a little crazy, sugar crazy. He was in a head-on collision with yellow cake and delicious frosting!
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Right after this he took whatever was in his hands and smeared it onto the back of his head. The leftover crumbs from that experiment rolled down his back and he immediately leaned back against the chair in order to coat himself in chocolate. I like his style.
Can you see Jenkins lurking in the background. He is circling James as if he is a shark that has smelled blood. Poor neglected Jenkins!
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I took him straight to the bathtub. He needed some good quality time with Mr. Wally C. Duck and friends.
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We finished the night out with letting him finally play with his way too expensive toy that he will grow out of in six months.
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But who cares about the money, the toy was a hit!
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And I know that I keep telling you how brilliant he is, but I’ve decided to include this picture of him reading his own birthday card to prove it to you!
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Happy Birthday Baby James!

My eyes slid open at 8am. I felt relaxed, drugged, but relaxed. I don’t think that I had truly relaxed in over nine months. It had snowed over 12.5 inches over night and the entire city was shut down which is why my mom decided to stay in one of the hospital hotel rooms that night. She came down and we started waking up and getting prepared for the day ahead of us. I probably could have slept for the next ten hours.

My in-laws were struggling to get to the hospital as both of their cars were stuck in the snow. I could just hear the panic in my mother-in-law’s voice as she was on the phone with Jimmy. This is the day she had been waiting for her entire life (besides the birth of her own child of course). She was not going to be stuck at home, no sir-e-bob! I think she ended up taming a few wild dogs near her house and attached a sled to them before steering them to the hospital. Or that could have all been a drug induced dream…who knows? My best friend also showed up, but that was a little less amazing because her dog is part husky and already has a sense for pulling a sled. No training was needed.

Although I was aware of the affect the drugs were having on my body, I was getting a little (a lot) nervous that I would still be able to feel something when the operation started. I wiggled my toes every once in awhile just to show those around me that I was not crazy for thinking these thoughts.

The operation was supposed to start at 10am but of course, my doctor was running late. So they just kept pumping drugs into me. No problem here! You can be as late as you want, just keep those narcotics coming! They brought in Jimmy’s outfit for the OR. It was all white and sort of resembled the State Puff Marshmallow man. We all joked about that but then somebody kept saying “Its time to make the doughnuts” which is a reference to Dunkin’ Doughnuts for all of you healthy people out there. It made no sense, but it made me laugh. Actually, I think I’m the one who started saying that and I don’t think anyone was laughing but me. Oh well, at the time, I thought that it made sense, and I thought it was funny. So I kept repeating it. Don’t do drugs…this is what happens.

My doctor finally arrived. She brought along with her one of her partners. I thought this had something to do with the snow. Everyone else thinks that it is because she knew I was going to have a gigantic baby and she needed help lifting him out. She is a little woman. He was a big baby! Their theory is possible.

When they finally rolled me into the OR the clock said 11:39am. They had to transfer me to the operating table. I couldn’t move anything below my waist because of the epidural so when they moved me, I felt like I was falling. They forewarned me of this feeling and yet, I screamed anyways. It really did feel like I was going to fall straight on the floor. They weren’t kidding! They told me that they wouldn’t tie down my arms unless I started grabbing for things on the other side of the curtain. Now the curtain in question is the one that they hang up to protect you from seeing that unholy bloody mess. My question is, do people really go in there and just start grasping at things that are behind the curtain? Who goes into an operating room and just starts grabbing at equipment. I’d like to see an example of that. Are they really just afraid that you might steal some forceps or tweezers? Whatever the reasoning was behind telling me that piece of advice had to be good. Should I have thanked them? “Thank you kind sir for not tying my arms down.” At any rate, trust me, I did not move my arms once the entire time that we were in the operating room.

I was trying to force myself to stay awake. This is the moment I had been waiting for for nine months. But all the noises and the prepping got my little drugged mind pretty anxious. I let myself drift to sleep, not real sleep, drug sleep. I woke a little when Jimmy came in but soon drifted off again. I didn’t even know when the doctors had come in or when they had started the procedure.

I woke one more time. I was cold, shivering from the epidural, oxygen was stuffed in my nose, my mouth was dry because I had to breathe through my mouth while this horrid thing was stuffed in my nose, and my lips were chapped. What had happened in the past twenty minutes while I was passed out that now I feel like a dog that has hung his head out of the car window for 500 miles. Did I grab something behind the curtain?

Country music was playing loudly and everyone was singing and dancing. Doctors and nurses were laughing and talking excitedly and just as I thought I was in the middle of a Kenny Chesney concert, I hear the doctor say, “I can see the head!” My anesthesiologist leaned over the sacred curtain and then motioned for Jimmy to stand up. He said “You’ve got to see this man, get up here!” Jimmy popped up like he had been waiting for permission to do that all along. I asked him if they knew the sex yet, but they hadn’t pulled the baby all the way out yet. Still, they were astonished by the size of his head. When he was finally born, instead of hearing a baby cry, I heard people laughing. The doctor said its a boy and then the crying started. I can’t describe the happiness that I felt. I was crying and laughing and trying to get a glimpse of him. It was an amazing feeling.

James continued to scream, but I think it was because an entire room of people he had just met were laughing at him rather than being ripped from the only nice and warm home he had ever known. The doctor’s joked that he should be named Bruiser rather than James. Someone was shouting about ordering him a steak and potato. No one could believe how big he was. I heard in a mocking voice, “Get me a porterhouse, my name is bruiser.” He weighed in at 10.24lbs. A gorgeous 10.24lbs. They laid him under a warmer with his butt facing me. I looked over and saw him for the first time. He was swollen. All I could see were balls. Gigantic red balls! Poor baby was swollen. He was definitely a boy!

James

They finally wrapped him up and gave him to Jimmy. James became quiet. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Everything was simple and right in that moment. We had waited years for that one moment…to be a family of more than two. I was at peace. It was beautiful.

Family

That was a year ago today. James Timothy came into our lives. He is the most brilliant and beautiful boy there ever was. Every mother feels this way right? Our life is busier and poopier. We get less sleep and have to take luggage everywhere we go. But we also get more cuddles and chances to sing “I’ve Been Working On the Rail Road”. We have more bananas in our house and an over abundance of diaper rash cream (you’ll never know when you’ll need a little Destin.)

He is still beautiful. We are still over joyed. There are no other words…it is right.

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Baby Purr or Gremlin?

This is my child. He might be a Mogwai. Please do not feed him after midnight or get him wet. We do not want gremlins running around our house.

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Could you use a smile?

How could this little gummy smile not brighten your day.

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Smile, James loves you!

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Labor Coach Rule #1: No Yawning

I was originally going to call this episode of the series “My Story- The worst three hours of my life”, but since my last post something has happened that was much worse than I could ever imagine and truly became the worst hours of my life, which is why it has taken me so long to update my blog. I know how much you love reading all about my crazy life and for this pause in craziness, I must apologize. So without further ado…

I have to apologize right off the bat. My posts are usually focused on the humorous events of my adventures in pregnancy. But folks, there was absolutely nothing humorous or slightly entertaining about the three hours that came next. So when reading this please do not chuckle, or smile, or even think good thoughts. These next three hours were like when you were forced in elementary school to watch ” Old Yeller”. It was horrifying, torturous, and full of innocence stealing. This is the part that you are supposed to forget about after you hold your baby in your arms. Unfortunately, I cannot forget.

At about 2:30am the nurse came in to take out the Cervidil, do her normal checks and start the Pitocin again. Of course I hadn’t been sleeping so I had been waiting to hear how far I had progressed for the last half hour. She told me that I had not progressed at all. My heart sank. I hadn’t been on the Pitocin since the previous afternoon so I thought that it was a good sign when the contractions had been growing worse and worse on their own. When she told me to get up and get showered so that she could start the Pitocin again in a half hour, it didn’t help that she was very unfriendly and had no more concern for me than she could fit in her cold tiny hand. Because she was the opposite of what a nurse is supposed to be (I know, I was raised by one) she became the cause for everything and all the blame fell on her. But don’t feel too bad for her, that was all about to change.

I got up and my contractions immediately got worse. Not long after I walked the five steps it took to get in the restroom, my water broke, a plethora of other nasty things happened, and the pain tripled. I was scared, in pain, confused. At no other time in my married life have I thought that it was a good idea to wake up Jimmy, but the moment to wake the man had come. It was a lot like poking a hibernating bear. I really was unsure of what would happen. But I was already in a world of hurt, I thought that anything that happened from this point forward could only be better. I was completely wrong.

I want to preface this paragraph by saying that I was no angel and I do love my husband dearly. I’m sure that I was irritable, angry, bitter, unmanageable, and ornery. But I have the right to choose not to remember this. I really didn’t know if another round of Pitocin was the right way to go anymore. Truthfully, I didn’t know if I could handle anymore. The contractions at this point were already really strong and they were coming about every two minutes. If I had more pitocin, I knew that the contractions would only get stronger and there was very little hope that they would yield the desired result. I was tired from being awake for two days, I was hungry, I was in severe pain. So we called Nurse I chose the wrong profession and now my patients pay for it back in and asked her for some more of those drugs so that I could make it through the next few hours. She ever so rudely informed me that she would not be able to give me anything but what I heard was that she was my torturer and it was now my turn to suffer. She left before I could say another word. Thanks lady, first baby here, kinda scared, could you be a little helpful.

I laid back and the tears began to fall. The contractions just kept getting worse every time. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t see straight, I became one of those ladies that I had heard for the past two days screaming “get it out of me!” To my credit I wasn’t screaming but I was absolutely not silent. I stared at the clock, they were coming closer and closer. Soon it was every minute. The contraction would calm down, but another would come 30 seconds later. There was no end in sight… no relief to come. I began shaking terribly. And throughout this there is my husband, sitting in a chair next to me hunched over with his head hanging. I kept thinking, ” Is he really trying to sleep right now? I’m sorry, am I boring you? I know how exhausting this all must be for you.” But I couldn’t speak at that point which was probably for the best. I know there are those guys that are great during labor. They are supportive and comforting. But not my husband, at least not at 3am. There was no hand holding, no back rubs, no breathing techniques, no washcloths on the forehead, no sweet encouraging words whispered in my ear. But there was one thing… a yawn. I finally got the strength up to speak and I uttered four simple words in hopes that he would at least help me clear my mind and make a smart decision. I chose these words carefully as I knew I would lose all of my will to speak in about 15 seconds. I asked him “What should I do?” He opened his mouth and yawned, he YAWNED, HE FREAKING YAWNED! He looked away and said “I don’t know, do what you want.” Could you care less? Really could you? I don’t think it would be possible. All of the sudden, rage stored up from my childhood and ever since boiled through my body. I can’t tell you what we fought about or what was said because I was blind with rage, but I can tell you, we fought. It was ugly. And folks, we went through all the child birth classes. I apparently missed the part when they said that if you are in labor after midnight, the labor coach doesn’t have to coach anymore. He can remain sleeping.
“Get my nurse!”
Unkind Nurse: Yes(rudely)
Laboring pregnant lady: I want to talk to my doctor.
Unkind nurse: Is there something I can do?
Laboring pregnant lady: Apparently not, I want my doctor
Unkind nurse: It is 4am
Laboring pregnant lady: She’s on call right?
Unkind nurse: Yeah I just talked to her not too long ago.
Laboring pregnant lady: Then ring her on up. Get her on that phone.
Unkind nurse: She said that she would be by in the morning.
Laboring pregnant lady: I WANT TO TALK TO MY DOCTOR!
*Ring Ring*

Ok usually I am not that obstinate but something just snapped. Plus she deserved it. If she had been a better nurse, none of that would have had to happen.
My husband answered the phone when my doctor called because I was in the middle of a contraction and would have to wait for the 30 seconds in between when I could speak again. I told her that I was scared and that I didn’t know what to do and she calmly said she had already scheduled in a time to perform my C-Section if that is what I chose to do. She recommended that I go ahead and get the epidural so that I could calm down and get some rest and she would check me when she got to the hospital. If I had progressed, great, if not, we could go ahead with the C-section if that is what I wanted. I love her! She made it all seem like my idea. But she knew when I was 8 months pregnant that I would have to have a C-section. But I really wanted to try and she was not going to force me to do anything that I was uncomfortable doing. I don’t want to say that I gave up on what I wanted, but I gave it my all. I tried for three long and painful days to get my body to cooperate. I gave it the good old college try but we would find out later that my son’s head was so big that it didn’t even fit underneath my pubic bone. I would have never gotten that baby out. I’m glad that my doctor is smarter than me!

The dreaded and most feared moment had come, the moment of the giant needle meeting my spine. After I was off the phone the nurse was there in a flash with the anesthesiologist. She told me that my husband had to leave the room. I wish they had told me in one of those not so helpful classes that they were going to do this. I thought they were removing him because we were fighting. I was so mad at him right then, but I didn’t want him to leave me. I asked him to pray for me and then he left. I was still shaking badly and I was afraid that if I couldn’t stop shaking the big needle might hit my spine and paralyze me forever. Even though they told me it wouldn’t happen, I trusted no one .
At this point my life could not have gotten any worse so I was afraid of nothing. Now I have some life changing information for all of you ladies out there. Once you get over the fear of the epidural, it is one of the easiest things you will do during your hospital stay. I barely felt a little pinch and it was over. It is much easier than the IV. It is much easier than the contractions. It is even much easier than your babies first bowel movements. So ladies please, I am begging you, get the epidural, get it early, get it often. Don’t wait…don’t be scared….just do it. I laid back relaxed for the first time since I came to the hospital. The pain was still there, but it was subsiding at a rapid pace. While they hung up all of the cords, the nurse covered me with a warm blanket. My husband came back in and held my hand. The epidural was everything I ever dreamed it could be. I felt like a baby being tucked into bed.
I soon fell into the best sleep that I had had in three months and have had since. But not before the absolutely best part of my hospital stay happened. (If you don’t like talking about yucky things…don’t read below…or just grow up.)
The Catheter!
You cannot possibly understand what a catheter means to a lady who has been concerned solely with her distance to a bathroom for the past four months. In an instant, I no longer worried about how I would be able to wrangle my whale of a self out of bed every twenty minutes to use the restroom. I longer worried about peeing myself when I sneezed or laughed. I no longer obsessed about how much fluid was going into my body every time I drank something. I no longer fought with the baby who chose to sit right on the bladder. I could just pee, and I didn’t even know I was doing it so there was no embarrassment on my end. I couldn’t even feel it because it was done after I had my epidural…smart thinking ladies. The catheter is an absolute gift from God to pregnant women. You just have no idea how much peeing controls your life until you are nine months pregnant.
I fell asleep, it was great.

I promise that the next installment will come much quicker than this one did. Just hold on to your hats. It will be here before you know it. (And it will include the best part…my son)

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10 Signs That You Have Mommy Brain

1.  Ever since having a baby, when calling people and pets by their names, your accuracy has been way off.  Honestly, you don’t even realize you are calling people by the wrong name until it is pointed out to you. Even then, you argue that the persons’ name really should be whatever you called them just to save your own behind.

2. You start out just talking to the baby about changing diapers while doing so, but before you know it, you have begun creating and singing a song about poo cleaners with a three part hamony all the while using a rattle as a music directors’ batton.

3. While getting out of the car at work, you realize that you are wearing your ragged old slippers. This isn’t the bad part. You actually intended to wear your slippers while getting ready and dropping off the baby at the sitters. What you did not intend to do however, is leave your work high heels, which you intended to change in to,  in the diaper bag at the sitters.  Then you yell out(in the middle of a busy parking lot) in anger and frustration at your mommy brain, ” This is going to be a GREAT day!!”

4.  You start to make up your own words. You even really go for trying to sell it when told that your word is not really a word. Unfortunately, the ability to  pull up a dictionary on any internet connected computer has hampered your scheme. Words like disorganized really don’t mean to have your organs taken out and skeetershoes is not a endearing term and you should really stay away from being filered. You are  still not sure what it means, but gosh dern, it really makes people mad!

5.You leave the house and you are only carrying your purse and you have put your makeup on before leaving the house.  *If this happened to you this morning, please turn off your computer, drive home, and GET YOUR BABY! You might also need 4 tons of baby luggage and a good spanking!*

6. When you are at work, you often catch yourself  stopping what you are doing and wondering why you haven’t heard the baby cry in awhile.

7. You’ve decided that you can sing the alphabet in any order that you want, and often do! Sometimes you even add in numbers. Let people think whatever they want, the baby likes it.  And you will have plenty of time to teach him the right way before Pre-School. Or maybe this really is the right way…

8. You come out of a restaurant in the middle of the day and see your driver side door standing wide open. You immediately yell out that there has been a robbery in the parking lot. After examining the car, which is in the spot right in front of the door, in the middle of the day, and finding that nothing has been taken from your car, you begin to think that there is a good chance that you might have just left the door open because you had your hands full and the door just happened to take last priority. But of course, you will never admit it to the group of friends who were there and saw your accusation filled outburst.

9. You walk out of a busy clothing store with your purse, baby stroller, and merchandise that you did not pay for. You turn around because you realize that the person you were shopping with is not following you to the car. When you look back, an expression of sheer confusion and disbelief is spread across your fellow shoppers’ face. You really don’t have a clue that you are about to be classified as a shoplifter so you yell back at  that person,”Come on, lets go!”  They continue to stare at you until you finally come to the realization that you are in fact attempting to steal your babies first Easter outfit. You promptly return to the scene of the crime.

*Sign #10 actually happened to me last night and became the motivation behind this entire post. I used to become so annoyed when I saw other people doing this and wondered what would drive someone to act in that manner. I now realize it is the pure desire to see your baby smile and the lack of giving a crap about what anyone other than your baby thinks. *

10. Whenever you go shopping, you constantly run into aisle fixtures, clothing racks, and old people because you are busy trying to make the baby smile. You would rather talk to the baby than watch where you are going in hopes that a silly face will bring about one giggle. You even ask for the baby’s opinion when trying on sunglasses and when leaving the store you tell the baby to say goodbye.

I will leave you with this picture, and yes, he is milkdrunk.

jt1

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My Story- Day Two

As I was still looking out the window at 5:30am, my nurse came in to wake me up and give me time to take a shower. I asked her to wake me up the night before because I was sure that the Ambien would knock me out and I would sleep until it was time for them to start inducing. Wrong-O Angi! She helped me get up and get all of my cords off.  I got in the shower but I have a severe shower problem.  I was born as, what some might say, an incompetent showerer.  I have the inability to shower without getting the floor and sometimes the walls  outside of the shower completely flooded.  I don’t know where I am going wrong and have exhausted the list of possible causes. If anyone is able to give me a lesson on the correct showering procedure, I would be a willing student. My husband is astounded by my ineptness and as so often asks me, “What is your problem?” , to which there is an infinite list of possible answers. I then woke him up to get in the shower because I was sure that if I had not, some point in the day he would have scolded me for not telling him that his hair looked ridiculous. Plus, I know he feels as crappy as I do when he doesn’t get to take a shower in the morning. He eventually got up to shower and before the door even closed I could tell that he was curious as to why I had attempted to take a bath outside of the shower rather than inside the normal confines of the shower walls.

My next two nurses came in, with whom I was absolutely delighted. Anna and Jamie were kinda of like Tweedledee  and Tweedledum  in the cute little way that they bee bopped around but they were not dumb at all. I actually felt very comfortable for the first time while they were my nurses. Becky came in very early to see me before work. It felt rather early but who could really tell at that point. After Anna and Jamie introduced themselves to me they started explaining what would be happening that day as far as the induction. They checked me and to my surprise there was no change. But that was OK because we hadn’t technically started the induction yet.  They started the Pitocin in my IV.  Now, not only did the contractions start and begin to get pretty intense, but every time I had to pee (every 30-45minutes) I had to get a nurse to help me manage my IV pole and all of the cords. My mom came in at about 9am. She brought with her some socks because although I had packed plenty, I had already gone through them because every time I went in the bathroom I was left with sopping wet socks from the still residing water from my earlier apparent water games.

The nurses continued to check my progress throughout the morning but not only did I become more disappointed that although I was having contractions and nothing was changing, I also had to endure going through two rounds of “checking” every time they did so because there were two nurses and they both insisted on examining the “situation”.  Now Ladies and Gentlemen, these examinations are not pleasant by any means. First, you have your junk all out where everyone in the world can see. Second, it kind of feels like someone is trying to drive a tree stump up where only a bamboo shoot could and should fit.  So I endure this pain each time hoping they will have good news, but no. I am basically told that I am failing miserably.

The contractions really started to hurt and for some reason I had not asked for any pain medication yet. (Silly mommy!) My mind went back to earlier that morning. Becky was sitting there and as Anna started talking about the pain medicine she could give me which would basically be a cocktail of several different pain meds, we gave each other a look, much like we had many times before,but not anytime recently of course, that meant this is going to be some fancy stuff. But as you might guess, by the time that I needed to ask for the  highfalutin medicine, my preggo brain could not remember what it was called.  But I remembered that it had something to do with alcohol(She called it a cocktail) and so I asked my sweet little nurse for a margarita STAT. She began to laugh because she thought that I was joking and I began to worry because for one, I thought that what I was saying was the correct terminology, and for two my mom and my nurse were laughing at me. I just want to give you all a piece of advice. Don’t ever laugh at a pregnant woman when she is confused. And absolutely don’t ever laugh at a pregnant woman when she is confused, in labor, in pain, and has access to plenty of needles and dum dum suckers. Something terrible might happen, just use your imagination.  I’m not going to say what it is, but it might also include a throat punch. I’m just saying…

Finally, my doctor came in to talk to me and check me herself .  She told me that they had the Pitocin up as high as they could go and there was still no progress. It was now about noon and  something should have happened by then. We talked about the different options and the details of a C Section since in my mind, it had never been a reality,but  now I had tons of questions.  I consider myself fairly intelligent but extremely stubborn. So my doctor said we could do another round of the cervidil for twelve hours and then  induce again. I decided to give it one more try before giving up.  But before she would agree to it, she wanted me to have a break from all of the medicine and also give me a chance to really eat for the first time in twenty-four hours and relax for a couple of hours. At two o’clock they would give me some more cervidil.

Jimmy and I were both exhausted and knew that we weren’t even nearly out of the woods yet. My mother-in-law had just came up, so after they started the cervidil again, we decided that she would stay with me until the evening time. Meanwhile Jimmy would go get the dog and go home to rest and my mom would  go home as well and come back later with my dad.  I turned  my I POD on low and tried to nap as much as I could. I think my mother-in-law just sat there and read a book while I slept. It was actually quite peaceful for awhile.  My contractions started to get more and more painful even though I was no longer on the pitocin which I thought was a good sign. I started getting extremely uncomfortable not only from the contractions but from the terrible labor and delivery bed. Trust me they may look soft and cushy but I imagine it is much like laying on a row of steel pipes covered by a bed sheet. As I was waking up, my parents came back and soon after that Jim came up to see me as well. By that time, I could not function while having a contraction but everyone was having lots of fun watching the monitors as the mountains of red marks made their way across the monitor screen. It was the same kind of sounds that they made when  they realized that I had a whole box of dum dum suckers in my room. “oh wow, look at that one! That is so cool, it was a lot bigger this time.” Folks, those kind of remarks are not helpful. Focus people, focus! There is a big old baby trying to make its way out of here and you all are acting like you are on a roller coaster ride with all of those oohs and ahhs. I ordered more food but was unable to eat anything because of the pain.

The snow had already begun to fall. They had predicted snow accumulation on the news but come on Hoosiers, how many times have they said that in the past two years and how many times has it actually happened?  My mom started to think about how she would get back to the hospital when things started to happen early the next morning(Wishful thinking) She ended up getting the last room in the hotel rooms on top of the hospital.  I was soo releaved that she was going to be close by. For one, she is a nurse, for two, she is a postpartum nurse, for three, she is my mommy.  Because of the snow, Jason was not going to be able to come down and dog sit for us that night(nice Jason, real nice) so Jimmy brought Jenkins up to the hospital at about nine and my dad took him home so that Kevin(and the rest of the fam) could watch him.

I asked the nurse if I could sit in the chair by the monitors because the pain from laying in the death trap of a bed was more than the pain from my contractions and she agreed. Why I had not asked her before this is still a mystery.  My mom hung out with us for a little while before she went up to her room but before we knew it, is was 10:30pm and they were supposed to start the pitocin again at 2am. We needed to try and get some sleep.

Of course, neither of us could really sleep. I couldn’t believe how much pain I was in. I was to the point where I could not talk during my contractions. If you haven’t been through this, they measure your contractions and give you milestones according to the activity you can do during them. Up until then the milestones were helpful because you knew what sort of level of intensity to expect next. If only they had truthfully told me about the next level. I guess the only way that they could have described it would be to say,”You will begin to ask your labor coach to knock you the **** out, then you will say, seriously pick up that chair and break it over my head. I don’t care if you permanently paralyze me, I do not want to be conscious anymore. The level after that will begin with a dragon of the fiery nose type  sitting atop your body and stealing the very life breath from your soul. You will no longer be able to breathe. You will begin to be cross eyed with blurry vision and then you will be blind… maybe forever.

* I have heard my friends’ story where at this point in her labor, one of the only anesthesiologists in the hospital, accidentally squirted medical soap into her own eyes and had to be rushed out for emergency care. Thus leaving my friend in this state for a very long time and just because this anesthesiologist may or may not have worked there for a long time, and everyone was friends with her, and everyone just happened to be caring people that cared about their friend who was probably going to be blind for the rest of her life my pregnant friend was not getting the attention that she so rightly deserved. Even her husband turned on her and began to care more about the obviously incompetent doctor than his own wife. She may or may not have been exaggerating. But there are very few sane and lucid thoughts during this stage. I’m just saying… *

We went to sleep or rather tossed and turned for three hours and thus concludes Day Two. Stay tuned for the next installment which I will refer to as “My Story- The worst three hours of my life”

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My Beautiful Easter Baby

SO… we recently bought a very expensive camera in anticipation of taking tons of pictures of the most beautiful (and intelligent) baby in all the world. When thinking about JT’s first Easter and how we would commemorate it, I really didn’t want to do the old mall Easter bunny pics that may or may not turn out too well, where JT may or may not be too thrilled about the furry beast, and where we may or may not spend a ton of money on the pictures. So I set out to do something that I have never tried before, taking and editing my own pictures.  Please enjoy and take it easy on me …. I am just a beginner(noob). Hopefully the mere beauty of this baby will overcome my own inability.

I also want to wish everyone a very happy Easter weekend. Today is Good Friday and my thoughts have been on what was sacrificed for me. I have hope because he did rise again and he is no longer in the grave. If your hope and joy for life has been less than stellar lately, get to a church service this weekend and let your life be filled with a hope and peace that surpasses all understanding! Happy Easter! 

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