I Thought I Knew

For a while there, I thought I knew who I was, what I was doing and what my goals for the future were.  I'm not so sure anymore.  I've been withdrawn lately.  Seems the only thing I really even get joy out of lately are my kids.  While often I feel like I'm on the verge of a freak out, they are still my greatest joy.  Honestly, I don't know a parent who doesn't feel like losing it sometimes.  Children are a test of patience and understanding.  But I wouldn't ever change having them.  Sometimes I wish I could grab hold of myself and yell in my own face to get myself together.  Motivation has reached almost a non-existent level while the feeling of being alone is bigger and badder than ever and stubbornly refuses to take a hike.  I feel like a stranger to myself and everyone else, well I feel like I barely even know them.  My husband, brother, Dad and even my extended family.  Why do I feel this way?  I think, I'm just tired.  Tired of always being the one to put forth the effort.  I'm really pretty much done with trying to be the best friend with the ear to bend, while so rarely I am able to bend the ear of others.  I'm tired of putting forth energy to be playful, romantic, flirtatious and fun in my relationship to have it answered with nothing at all.  And I'm tired of always being the go to girl when someone needs a favor.  My days of being a sucker have come to an end, at least for now.  I know they will return, it is just my nature I suppose.

Where does that leave me now though?  I don't know.  Floating in a sort of limbo I suppose.  Stuck in a funk I just can't seem to shake off.  At least one thing stays constant.  I'm stupid crazy about my kiddos.  Even when I want to rip every hair out of my head because the 2 yr old keeps pushing his sister and she screams if I walk away from her, even if it is a mere 3 feet and I am within sight.  I'm so thankful for my babies, because when I'm with them, I am who I really want to be.  Except when they have me tearing my hair out. :-)

-MoM-

How I Met Your Father - Part I

A few people have asked about how I met K.  I guess I should probably start from the beginning.  Meaning the period of time right before I met him.  I've never really gone into detail about my life story or many of the major events in my life other than the birth of my children.  The death of my mother was a critical turning point in my life.  One day, I'll tell her story, which also became my story.  But for this particular entry I'm going to focus on a few months after she died.

See?  Here I am.....oops...wait...haha...I'm not 21 in this picture!  But I am kinda cute!

I was 21 years old, carefree and young with my whole life ahead of me.   I was going to college pursuing my life-long dream of becoming a veterinarian.  I was in the first semester of my second year.  My mother fell quite ill, so I decided to take the semester off to be at home with her.  I took her to her doctors appointments & such.  When she died, my world pretty much fell apart.  I spent the first few months deep in the depths of grief.  A close friend at the time, who was more like a sister to me tried to get me to go out and pull myself out of the hole that I was in.  So I did, reluctantly.  It was through her that I learned about the interwebs.  I did not have a computer.  I had no idea what the internet was or how to even use it.  Sheltered?  Umm...yeah!  But I found it amazing.  It was so cool how you could talk to people from all over.  I knew I had to get in on this!

Without going into detail about my life, its kinda boring anyway, I wasn't much of the party type.  Yes, I was 21, but I hadn't been in a bar until I turned 23.  Gasp!  Look, you are talking to a chick who ate her first taco at 21 years old, what do you expect?!  I spent much of my time at home and with my dogs.  Breeding & showing Bulldogs was something my Mom & I both had a passion for, so even though she passed away, I felt she had left me this legacy and I wanted to keep it alive.  But with that lifestyle came loneliness.  It is pretty solitary just raising puppies.  The most social interactions I ever got came from the dog shows.

Showing dogs is my most favorite sport, especially when I win!  Here I am winning Breed with my Heart dog, Whitey.  I am 22 years old.

 So in October of '98 I had saved up enough money to purchase my first computer.  With a whopping 333MHz processor.  Sounds ancient now doesn't it?  But it was one the of the faster ones of the day.  I surprised myself at how quickly I set it up.  Who knew I was such a geek so tech savvy?  Next I went out and got hooked up to the internet via....dial up.  Wait!  There is no need to wail in horror!  We couldn't get DSL where I lived.  So it was that or nothing.  It served its purpose too.

I logged into Yahoo! Chat, which now is defunct.  Shyly, I introduced myself and soon friendships began to blossom.  I met several people who I still talk to this very day, as well as K!  Crystal is my internet sissy.  I love you, girl!  Val is also my internet sister.  She also claims that she is responsible for K & I hooking up.  We let her believe that.  You should check out her blog, Mind Mumbles sometime.  She is hilarious and just an amazing writer, she makes it seem so effortless!  I also met Josh...my redneckiest friend in the world, who one day I am going to make him take me fishing since he lives like...RIGHT UP THE ROAD FROM ME!  He didn't then, but he does now!

One night though, it was really quite late I was in the country music rooms of Yahoo! chat.  This is where I spent most of my time.  I was raising a litter of puppies and it was almost time for their next feeding, so I would chat in between during the late nights.  I'm not really sure when this person entered the chat room, but somehow we both became involved in the same conversation.  He seemed nice.  Was respectful and polite.  Feeding time arrived and I never gave it another thought.  It was just like any other night.  Or was it?

Most of us who knew each other in chat usually logged in at similar times.  Josh & I were apparently insomniacs because we were on the East coast while Crystal was in Western Canada, Val in the Mid West and K was on the West coast, in California.  Seriously, I couldn't have found someone who wasn't COMPLETELY across the country from me? Alas, I digress.  This meant that I was logged in usually during the wee hours of the night/morning.  Which wasn't really a big deal since I was up all night raising puppies.


Here is where things get a bit fuzzy.  Cut me some slack, I was usually punch drunk from lack of sleep so that is why I can't remember exact details.  I don't remember exactly how K and I began our private conversation, but we did.  My first impression was that he was funny, extremely quick witted, engaging and disgustingly charming.  He was not flirtatious though.  Val messaged me and asked if I was talking to him, I told her I was.  She didn't say much more about it at the time.  


Our chats became more regular.  We began waiting on one another to show up and I clearly remember getting considerably happier when he came online.  I was getting to know him and I liked what I knew so far.  We discovered that we had many things in common.  From our values to our ideas about life, politics and even religion for the most part.  In a nutshell we were cut from very similar cloth.  After some time we exchanged photos of one another.  You could have knocked me over with a feather.  I thought he was the handsomest, sexiest and dreamiest guy I had ever seen!

I was smitten, twitterpated, call it whatever you like.  Apparently, he was too.  Lucky me!  We went on for a while with midnight chats and got brave enough to move on to the telephone.  After about a year we decided to meet.   He flew here.  I was never so nervous in my life.  Honestly, I wasn't sure we'd hit it off face to face.  Things like that can really open your eyes.  You never really *know* someone until you meet them face to face.  For me, after meeting, I thought I was in love.  Nah, I knew it was love.  He was nice, courteous, charming, decent, laid back and non-judgemental. Perfect.

March 2000 - When we first met face to face

 Self-doubt & fear rose its ugly head shortly after he left though.  I began to tell myself that I was being silly and not to expect much more than a passing hello from him again.  Even though things went so grand while he was here.  I always had a hard time believing someone could love me.  There would be another visit...much to my surprise.


To Be Continued...

Little C's Birth Story

I know it's been 12 weeks since Little C was born.  But I've been dealing with a lot of things in the last few months and so I haven't really had the motivation to write it down here until now.  If you've followed my blog at all you will know that we had a c-section scheduled for March 24th.  I'm not going to get into a debate as to whether it was necessary or not.  I have a happy, healthy baby.  That is all that matters to me.  My c-section experiences were wonderful and my recovery was crazy fast.  I healed beautifully the first time and this time I healed just as nicely.  Again, if you've followed my blog at all, you'd know how I felt about c-section versus the VBAC.


K and I decided to bank our baby's cord blood stem cells this time around.  Some people felt we were silly and that it is a waste of money.  Well, that is okay.  It isn't your baby and it isn't your decision and you are entitled to your opinion.  K and I have decided that this is what is best for our family.  We felt it was like life insurance.  Hope you don't need it in your 30's, but glad you do if something happens so your family will not have to take on the burden of such a huge expense.

Wednesday morning, March 24th at 5:30am we arrived at the hospital.  My husband was with me of course, as was Big C, my dad and my brother.  My cousin Ashley arrived a bit later, while we were in the OR.  After checking in and verifying all my pre-registration information, I was taken to a triage room and prepped for my c-section.  IV was started, and my blood was drawn for the maternal draw for the cord blood collection.  After a few minutes my doctor and the anesthesiologist came in to see me and we went over the details of what was going to happen.

After the usual chit chat, it was time to get the show on the road.  I slid out of my bed and kissed my Dad & brother and took my darling boy into my arms and I hugged him and kissed him and told him that I loved him.  It was different this time.  I was excited to see this baby that I have been growing for 40 weeks.  But I was scared.  Scared that I would be leaving my son without his mother if something went wrong.  Its funny how children change your outlook on things.  I slowly began my trek down the hallway to the c-section OR.  A nurse beside me pushing my IV pole, I waddled steadily, my husband walking beside me.

Thoughts began flooding my brain.  Will the spinal go OK?  Will the baby be OK?  Is it a boy or a girl?  Crap, we still haven't decided on a name yet!  OMG...this is really happening now.  Jesus, how did this day come so fast already?  Wait...I don't think I can feel the baby moving anymore.  Oh God, please let this go well and fast!  I want to hold my baby and know it is OK.  I hope Big C is behaving with Dad & J.  OMG...will there be the burning at the incision like it was last time?  Man, that sucked!  Will the cord blood collection go right?  I don't want it to be contaminated and useless.  Did I bring everything?   Please, please PLEASE God keep us safe and healthy.

Yeah....all those thoughts weren't helping keep me relaxed.  In fact, it was giving me more anxiety than I think I had ever experienced.  I felt my chest begin to tighten.  When we arrived at the doors to the OR...I kissed my husband and walked inside as he sat down in the chair outside the door and waited for the spinal to be done.  I sat on the table and the nurse smiled at me.  I remembered her from my last c-section.  She was the one who gave Big C his first bath.

The nurse told me to lean into her and to relax.  I felt the anesthesiologist swab my back and begin poking at my spine.  A few moments later he told me about the sting I would feel...and I did.  No big deal.  So he inserted the needle into my back, searching for the epidural space to inject the fluid that was going to numb my body from the waste down.  My chest is continuing to tighten.  The nurse squeezes my shoulders and tells me to relax again.  I take a deep breath.  I can hear the doctor behind me making sounds as he is trying to hit his mark.  And they don't sound promising.  Beads of sweat being form along my forehead and my legs and back are beginning to ache.  I feel the pinch of a needle pushing into my skin and I wince, but don't dare move.  The nurse again tells me to relax and that everything is going to be OK.  Another pinch.  I feel it 4 more times, but I don't say anything.  I just want this over with.  I see both my OBs standing there...waiting.  The anesthesiologist asks one of the nurses is Dr. So-and-so is in the hospital and can he come down to the OR and give him a hand.  My mind begins racing.  My chest tightens even more now.  OMG...if they can't get this spinal they are going to have to put me under.  No...no, no, no.  I want to hear my baby cry.  I want to know everything is alright right away.  This can't happen like this.  I feel another pinch and then the exasperated breath of the anesthesiologist as he apparently misses his mark...again.

After a few minutes the other doctor walks thorough the double doors.  After some discussion, he comes over and begins pressing on my back.  I'm sweating pretty hard now and the nurse is rubbing my shoulders and telling me things are going to be fine.  Yeah...sure...they haven't been so far.  I feel another pinch, this time from the other doctor.  I wince a little and a few seconds later I feel what resembles an electric shock shoot down my left leg.  I stammer out, "I felt that" and they ask me in which leg and I tell them.  Phew.  Finally, its in.  Egads where the hell was this doctor before?  I didn't have this much trouble with my first child.  This took 30 minutes.  30 freaking minutes!!!  My heart is pounding, my chest is tight and I'm sweating bullets.

They help me to lay down and swing my legs up onto the table before I go completely numb.  Suddenly, I can't breathe.  Not that I can't feel it...but I start having an anxiety attack.  My arms have been strapped down to the table and my neck is hurting.  I can't move to rearrange myself.  I need to move.  OMG...I can't stay like this.  So I tell them that I feel like I can't breathe, my neck hurts....I can't move...I need to move.  I get a bit phobic when I feel trapped.  I start shaking and crying, which only leads to the tightening in my chest and now I am hyperventilating.  The anesthesiologist tries to calm me and tells me he is going to give me something.  One of my OBs rubs my shoulder and tells me I'm feeling like I can't breathe because the baby is squishing my diaphram because I'm now laying flat and that I'll be fine as soon as the baby is out.

I am still crying and all I can say over and over is I'm sorry, I'm so sorry but I can't help it.  Please, I'm so so sorry.  They assure me that it is normal and that before I know it the baby will be out and everything will be fine.  Soon I begin to feel my chest relax, my neck stops hurting and although I still feel like I can't breathe well, I am calming down.  I close my eyes and just keep telling myself that soon I'm going to see my sweet, darling baby.  Just a few more minutes and then I'll be so excited about the baby I'll forget about everything else.  The sedative the doc had given me was kicking in.  They finally brought K into the room while they finished prepping me for surgery.  He held my hand, and kissed my forehead.  I told him how I freaked out.  He told me he knew...he could hear it from outside.  Damn.  Now I felt really stupid too.  Stupid for freaking out like I did.  I looked at him and I asked him to just keep talking to me so I didn't start thinking about a million things.

So what is the first thing he says?  "Have you decided on a  name yet?"  I laughed a little.  That is what happens when you wait until 2 weeks before your due date to decide on names for your baby.  You are laying on the table and waiting for your baby to be yanked out, or you are bent over pushing your little bowling ball out while trying to decide on what to call him or her.  Everything went pretty quickly from there.  Before I knew it, I felt some tugging and I was being rocked back and forth a bit.  I heard the sound of the big suction, some soft murmurings of the doctors and the sound of a bulb syringe.  And then it happened.  The most beautiful sound a mother can hear.  The sound of her baby taking that first breath of life outside her womb and then crying.  I was so overcome that I began sobbing like a crazy woman and asking if the baby was OK.  The doctor poked the baby's head over the big blue drape and I laughed and cried at the same time.  Various voices were speaking all at the same time saying the baby was fine and how cute and what a beautiful baby and of course, Happy Birthday!

If you've followed my blog during my pregnancy, you will know that we did not find out the sex of our baby this time around.  We tried in the beginning, but it was hard with a fetus who was camera shy.  K and I were so excited and happy at hearing the baby cry and seeing 10 little fingers and toes that neither of us even bothered to ask the sex.  The doctors were murmuring once again about blood bags and the cord blood collection kit.  They were in the midst of collecting the blood when a nurse came over and asked, "Did anyone tell you what the sex is yet?"  I looked at her and shook my head no.  They carried the baby over to be examined.  The nurse leaned down and she said to me, "It's a beautiful little girl."  At that I fell apart again and cried.  I really didn't care what sex the baby was, I just wanted a healthy baby.  But a girl.  A girl!  I had a boy and now...I had a girl!

I'd like to tell you that instantly I knew what I was going to name her.  But, I didn't.  I had names narrowed down to 2 for a girl and 2 for a boy.  I knew I was going to name her after my mother.  We had it narrowed down to 2 choices.  Later that day it was pretty clear that she was going to be Little C.  My beautiful Little C.  Once we rolled into recovery the first person I wanted to see was Big C, but they wouldn't let him come back.  But my brother and father did come back and each assured me he was doing fine, although tired and starting to get cranky.  That's my boy!

I looked at my husband and I said to him, "We have a daughter."  A daughter.  I now have a son and a daughter.  I thanked God for the beautiful, healthy and amazing children he has blessed me with.  I try to thank him everyday.  I pray that he reminds me just how special I am to have them, how precious they are and to never once take them for granted.

On a side note, the incision did not burn like it did the first time.  In fact, the second c-section was considerably easier than the first.  I wasn't ready to go out and boogie across town or anything, but I had Little C on Wednesday and they told me the earliest I could go home was Friday.  So I did.  I even drove home.  Unfortunately, my first outing, other than taking Little C to the pediatrician was when she was 7 days old to my Uncle's viewing and funeral.  It was pretty much life as usual, except I couldn't pick Big C up...because he weighed like 30 pounds!

So that is it really, in a nutshell.  Little C was born healthy and is amazingly beautiful.  There were a few snags this time, which I really could have done without.  But the ends have justified the means.  I have a beautiful healthy daughter.  She was worth every second of it all.

OK, So Here it Goes

I normally don't discuss very private things on my blog.  But this time, I'm going to.  I touched on it a little in a previous post.  I've been suspicious for a while, but after seeing and talking with my OB today, I'm ready to admit it publicly because I think it needs to be done in order to help others.  I'd like to thank Heir To Blair first though, for giving me the courage to come forward by displaying courage of her own to also come forward in an attempt to help bring about more awareness of this condition.

I have Postpartum Depression.  At first I thought it was just "baby blues" and waited for it to get better.  It didn't.  The more I try to compare my last pregnancy with this one I am realizing that I probably had it to some degree with my first child as well, perhaps I was just not as aware as I am now.  I became pregnant with Little C just 6 months after Big C was born.  During the course of my pregnancy I cried. A lot.  I just thought it was normal pregnancy hormones coupled with the additional responsibility of taking care of my infant son.  I kept telling myself that things would be better after Little C was born.  Boy, was I sorely mistaken.

I've always been somewhat neurotic, a compulsive worry wart.  At times, pre babies it would come on strong, usually when family members were ill or when I had a litter of puppies to raise.  During this pregnancy with Little C, I hadn't noticed how out of control it had become.  I would check on Big C constantly.  While he took naps or at bedtime I was so terrified that he was going to stop breathing that the constant checking in on him would wake him up.  After moving Big C to his crib in his own room, which is right next to ours, I would lay at night with the monitor pressed to my ear listening making sure I could hear him breathe. I kept the lamp on in my room while he was in there so I could see him and make it easier to get up for feedings through the night.  After he moved into his crib, I continued to leave the lamp on in my room.  Months later and I couldn't bring myself to turn it off.  As if leaving that lamp light on would somehow get me to him faster if something was happening in his room.  That lamp is still lit every night.

I won't bore you with every detail, but the idea of having PPD didn't really come to mind until after Little C was born.  I was am still crying a lot.  I just assumed that it was the postpartum hormone crash mixed with all the things I have going on right now that was making me feel like I was losing my mind.  I mean having my dad & brother both with medical problems, a tantrum throwing 16 month old to run after, a screaming baby with unresolved colic issues, a husband who is gone for 14.5 hours a day, in-laws visiting for 2 weeks, the baby's baptism, having my old tub/shower ripped out and new one put in, PECO energy destroying my property value and appearance not to mention my memories by hacking down my tree lined driveway and running to doctor appointments could bring anyone to tears, right?  Oh, and my vet called yesterday to tell me one of my dogs, Martha has lymphoma and a mass in her chest and that it is probably too late to do anything and she'll be dead soon.  Oh!  And I forgot...its also Mother's Day this weekend!  Yeah, it's going to be a wonderful day for me.  My mother will be dead 13 years next month so I'll be visiting her grave this Sunday.  I really could go on, but why?

The continued crying and meltdown moments are draining.  But what really gets to me is feeling so out of control, overwhelmed and inadequate.  This is so hard.  I look at my screaming baby and some days I am super mom and I am rocking her and soothing her with the best of them.  I am so in tune to her needs and cues that I can just about read her mind and it is a really good day.  Other times all I do is stare at her blankly while she screams and screams.  And still there are other times, and these are the most difficult and I am embarrassed to even type it out, that I just can't take the screaming any more and I scream back at her to just stop screaming or shut up already!  I snap at Big C when he is doing something I don't want him to do or if he is whining about something and....the way he looks at me when I yell at him, his little eyes fill up and his bottom lip quivers....it just kills me inside.  Immediately after I yell at either of them I grab them up and hold them too me crying and telling them I'm so sorry over and over, apologizing for being such a horrible mother.  The guilt is overwhelming and I just crumple into a sobbing mess.

I do NOT want to harm myself or my babies at all.  Those thoughts have not crossed my mind in the least.  I have never felt detached from my babies.  Never had the feelings of disinterest.  In fact, I am just the opposite.  Some might say I am obsessed.  I have to be everything to them, even if that means sacrificing my relationships with others.  My husband & I have not been out alone since before Big C was born.  I just can't bear to leave them.  I know it sounds so cliche to many moms who are out working and don't want to leave their babies.  This has nothing to do with that.  Me personally...I can't leave them.  I want to go do things on my own, have a date with my husband or a night with my friends.  But I can't.  Not without being miserable and worrying the entire time.  And I have tried.  In rare instances I will leave them with my husband to get something done.  And then I'm calling home all the time checking on them and making him insane.  Other times I've left them, I've felt guilty, worrisome and I loathe myself for it.

Speaking of husbands, mine is amazing.  He really is wonderful with our son and he adores his little girl.  When my day has me stretched to the limit and I'm ready to hand Little C off to him after he gets home, I don't.  I need a break from the screaming and I want to spend some time with my son, but when he asks me if I want him to take her I tell him, "No, I'm fine I got her."  Then, I get pissed at him for not taking her and giving me a break.  WTF?  Do you see the insanity I am living with right now?

Is it PPD or something more?  I don't know.  I probably should seek therapy for it.  But for right now, I'm going to take the advice of my doctor.  I've been too proud to admit that I need help.  Or perhaps I've just been too afraid to ask for it.  I hate the idea of taking medication for something I feel I should be able to handle on my own.  It makes me feel weak and inferior as a mother.  But I can't don't want to go another day like I have been.  So I have finally swallowed my pride and asked for help.  I'm hoping that I'll be a better mother for it.

Life on The Reflux Front

Little C has reflux.  Great news is, it's not that bad.  Just enough to make her uncomfortable, scream and bring formula flying through her nose.  And I hate that.  I cannot tell you how I abhor it coming through her nose.  It makes me a nervous wreck.  She could easily suck what she brought through her nose and aspirate it into her lungs and wind up with pneumonia. But, I'm a veteran at using bulb syringes and pulling gunk out of noses....'cept they were the noses of puppies.  It really isn't that different.

I did invest in a product recently and it was clearly the best $20 I have ever spent.  It is the battery operated aspirator by Graco.  I cannot sing its praises enough!  Big C detests having his face sucked out and thrashes, kicks, screams, thrashes some more looking like he is having a convulsion.  It takes forever with the bulb syringe to get that liquidy goo out of his nose.  I pin his tush down and turn this bad boy on and in like 20 seconds its all collected in the cup and its a lot!  Poor kid can finally breathe afterward.  So, if I know you and you are knocked up and inviting me to the baby shower...that is what I'm buying you.  And I don't care if it isn't on your registry or that it won't be a surprise.  Trust me.  You will totally want to make out with me when you use it for the first time.  OK, maybe not make out, but you will think I'm a pretty big deal and stuff.

Anyway, back to Little C.  She was switched to the Enfamil Gentlease formula about 2 weeks ago for her gas issues.  I have to say, it has helped.  She can still rip them off with the best of them, but it is much better.  However her screaming and crying continued.  We had a recheck with the pediatrician on Wednesday and after describing our daily routine, feeding schedule and baby happiness level it was determined that Little C is suffering from some reflux and that it could be due to milk protein sensitivity.  She has been gaining weight steadily.  She is now up to 9lbs. 13oz. and she totally grew an inch and a half in 4 weeks!  She's 21 inches now.  The Dr. has started her on Zantac and it seems to be helping.  If there is no real improvement in 1 week then he wants me to switch her over to the Nutramigen and see how that goes.  I always thought reflux babies barfed all the time and had little weight gain in addition to screaming constantly.  Apparently that is not the case.  I guess some babies are more sensitive than others and so their symptoms are far worse.  Luckily, Little C spits up often, but not a lot in volume.  She does arch her back and stretch her neck when it happens, so I know that sour burning in her throat is the culprit.  We shall see.  The Zantac has been keeping some of her discomfort at bay, but she had a pretty bad episode this morning, spitting up twice in a row, bringing it through the nose and screaming bloody murder.  Other than that, my baby girl is growing and growing!

The in-laws have arrived and Little C's christening is scheduled for this Sunday.  We are frantically working to get everything pulled together and I think we'll make it.

I'm Back! Did You Miss Me?

Well kinda sorta.  I've never been an everyday writer.  But you know what I'm saying.  So let's see, I'm going to play catch up and just make it short and sweet.  No need to draw it all out with details since it's done and over with and we've since moved on to newer things.

Last Saturday I awoke at 4 in the morning having a panic attack because I couldn't breathe.  Seriously.  Nasal congestion was at it's worst because I caught Big C's cold that just so happened to layer itself on top of one I was fighting myself.  My chest was so tight I felt like I was being crushed.  Mouth breathing is NOT something I am readily able to deal with.  Since my sinuses were completely sealed shut, the mouth breathing commenced only to find no relief because I couldn't get enough air in!  Long story short, I made it through the night and into the morning so I could call my doctor who told me to head over to the nearest ER and get checked out.  There was a question of whether or not my thyroid meds may need adjusting because of the pregnancy since it can cause the heart racing/can't breathe symptoms.

The boy awoke and he was crying and coughing to the point of throwing up and I decided that I was going to just take him to the ER with me.  Something had to give for this kid.  Again, long story short...after blood work and a breathing treatment for me and an exam for Big C we were discharged with a diagnosis of an ear infection that was just starting for him and sinusitis coupled with bronchitis that was just starting for me.  Lovely.  Good thing was we caught Big C's ear infection before it really even got started.  So he was spared the agonizing pain of an earache. That was a total win.  We are recovering for our ills...I slower than Big C.  Mine actually got worse and is just now starting to let up.  But we are on the mend.

As far as my 32 week update, which can now be a 32 and 33 week update.  Things are going OK.  My Sciatic has reared it's ugly head again and it makes for a difficult night's rest.  Plus the peeing through the night...trust me when I tell you it's no less that 4 times a night.  Baby has begun to slow down with movement a bit.  Gave me a scare yesterday and today.  But I did get some movement.  And my OB told me as long as I get one occurrence of good active movement once in 24 hours, then we are good.  Not that that helps my overactive neurotic worrisome mind.  Thursday will mark the 34 week period as well as my next OB appointment.  So I'm greatly anticipating the appointment with the baby's slowdown, which according to the doctors, nurses and books is normal at this stage in pregnancy since the babe is getting bigger and the accommodations for him or her are getting smaller.  I'm hoping the snowfall will not hinder me from getting to this appointment.  After the epic snowfall of about 20 inches overnight we are expecting upwards of another foot Tuesday night and all day Wednesday.

Oh Em Gee...is that like, a car under there?

My sonogram appointment last Friday was kind of sucky.  The technician, whom I've never had before was a total wench.  My OB told me that she'd be able to tell me the weight of the baby as well as gestational age and the percentile in which the baby is in.  When I was pregnant with Big C they told me those things when I asked with no problem.  This B refused to tell me anything.  Well almost.  I did get 1 thing out of her.

Tech:  "We aren't allowed to give out that information, you'll have to get it from your doctor." 

Me:  "Seriously?  He's the one who told me to ask YOU!  OK well can you tell me what we are looking at?"

Tech: "Your cervix."

Me: "Is the baby head down?"

Tech: **Silence**

Me: "Is that the baby's head right there?  The top of it?"

Tech: "Mmhm."

 Me: "What is that?  Are those the baby's hands?"

Tech: **Silence**

Me: **Infuriated** "Now what are you doing?"

Tech:  "Getting the baby's heart rate."

Me:  **Seething** "Well can you at least tell me THAT?  Are you ALLOWED?"

Tech:  "Yeah, it's 135."

Seriously I felt slighted.  Sonograms are a very intimate and important part of one's pregnancy.  You don't get them that often, which is a good thing actually.  Healthy pregnancies don't need lots of sonograms.  But damn.  By brother and my dad were there with me and this chick was just robotic.  Most other techs are happy to point out baby's features, face, fingers, legs, toes and heart.  They have told me what they are doing, looking for or measuring.  They are pleasant and genuinely happy for you.  I basically got hustled back into the room, measurements taken without a word and hustled back out of the room like cow who is being milked.

So I've decided to have a 3D sonogram done this weekend.  I'm pretty excited about it.  I can bring my family with me and they can see the baby on two huge screen plasma TVs.  I thought about doing it before but never made the decision since I didn't have it done with Big C.  But this latest sonogram experience left me feeling so empty...like I had no time to spend with my baby.  I know it may sound silly to you, but that is how I felt.  The sonograms are my opportunity to *see* the little wonder who makes all of those movements inside me and it's very special.  That technician totally ruined that experience for me.  Depending on the results of that sonogram, I probably won't have another one unless the doctor is worried about something.  So that is why I decided to have the 3D sonogram done.

*GASP*  Who is that handsome boy?  No more hair in the eyes!

In other news, this Sunday I figured it was time to give Big C his first hair cut.  I did cut off a curl and save it for his baby book.  I was kind of bummed that I didn't get to take him to the barber shop for the whole experience and pictures.  But it's snowed every single weekend I planned on taking him!  The hair was in his eyes, curling around his ears and he was forever fussing with it.  The kid was miserable so it was time...barber shop or not.  I have to tell you...I so didn't want to cut it.  It was the hair he was born with!  Sort of...he was kind of a baldie...just little wisps of blonde hair.  But I knew after cutting his hair for the first time that he would look grown up and well...he's my baby and I don't want him looking so grown up so soon!

-MoM-

Teething Troubles or Something More?

Heck if I know.  But it's quarter after 9 at night and he was blissfully asleep at 8:30.  Awake now and I heard K go in to hush him back to sleep.  He's been miserable ALL day.  I don't mean cranky...I mean downright pissed at the world.  Refusing to eat, throwing things around and it seemed that no one could make him happy.  Secretly that last part kinda made me feel good, but just a smidge because lately it seems as though he views me as Mommy Dearest and prefers everyone else in the world to me.

Good news is he has his 1 year check up scheduled.  Bad news is it's next Monday.  If it's just a teething issue, I'm fine to sort it out and deal with it.  I'm a little weary of an ear infection.  He does touch the sides of his head, but not really tugging at ears and there is no fever...for now.  I don't want to freak out, so I'm leaning toward teething.  He has had 8 teeth since about August/September.  The first molar showed up last month and has broken through about half way.  It could be that one too I guess.  He refuses to let me anywhere near his mouth.  Whether it's because his mouth hurts or he's just so pissed about something he doesn't want to be mucked around with...I cannot say.

Honestly, I just want my kid to feel better.  I really don't like abhor not being able to soothe him.  It totally makes me feel like a big, fat failure.  Add to that my already feeling *put out* by the fact that his father, grandfather and uncle can do no wrong and are completely worthy of picking him up and snuggling while I am not and you have The Sourpuss Complex.  What?  I'm adult enough to admit it.  So, it might be a phase, doesn't mean I have to enjoy it.  I am happy that he is bonding with his father.  No easy feat mind you when Daddy is gone 14.5 hours a day due to work/commuting.  That part does thrill me.  Plus my husband gets the interaction with him that he wants, craves and rightly deserves from his son.  Win/win on that one.

I am completely thankful that my husband is off tomorrow for MLK's birthday.  I've been missing him a lot.  I treasure our weekends together.  Even if it is filled with laundry, running errands, grocery shopping and cramming everything you can't do during the week because he gets home @ 7:30 pm.  We haven't had a day to ourselves since before Big C was born.  With the exception of going to my high school reunion back in July.  But that was hardly a chance for he and I to spend alone time together in order to reconnect.  Truth is, I don't really want to leave Big C at home or with my cousin while he and I go out.  I know I need to, but I don't know if I'm ready to do that just yet.  I've been OK with leaving him with Ashley when I've had a dentist appointment or OB appointment.  But when I'm with K, no Big C would seem like a part of us is missing.  Silly....yeah, I know.  But it is what it is.  I may try to have an afternoon with the hubs if A can take him for an afternoon.  We may attempt to go to a movie and grab some lunch.  We'll see how it goes.

Seems like the tyke has fallen back to sleep.  I know it's early, but I think I'm going to follow suit.  Between being pregnant and Big C waking up...there isn't much sleep to be had around here lately.  Gotta get it where and when you can.

-MoM-

30 Weeks!

I know I said this last week, but it's something about hitting the 30 week mark that just makes you sit back and say, "Woah!"  It's almost time!  Sure 10 weeks is still a long time, but considering that a pregnancy lasts 40 weeks, it's actually the homestretch.  I won't be going to the doctor for another 2 weeks.  This is just me reporting on what's going on this week and how I'm feeling.

Emotionally, it has been one of the hardest weeks during the whole pregnancy.  My hormones have been taking control and have me all over the place.  Couple that with life's other stressors and you have a hormonal breakdown on the verge of letting loose.  It did yesterday, a few times actually.  But although I'm feeling overwhelmed, I'm doing much better.  I hope I continue to stay on a positive path.

The babe moves quite a bit, when he or she feels like it.  There really is no pattern with this little one.  I suppose he or she can't make up their mind like their momma. :-)  I've had some cramping earlier int he week, but I'm convinced it was because I was overdoing it a bit.  Rushing to get C's birthday party together and then the drama with the church hall, which I'll save for another time if I remember was enough stress for me and I guess my body was telling me, "OK, sit down, shut up and stop worrying.  You have other people to help you...duh!"  So that is what I did after Big C's birthday party.  I went home and just sat down and tried to relax, freaking out over the cramping that felt more like someone shoving an ice pick into my uterus.  Thankfully, the pain ceased by the next morning and I resumed dealing with my usual ailments, my pelvis feeling as though it is going to break.  I must admit though, even that is getting a tad bit better.

One thing I am dealing with more this time around is swelling.  I don't think I've seen my feet, legs and belly...yes I said my belly swollen like this before.  I had swelling in my belly last pregnancy as well, but this is like...crazy.  Last time it was pitting edema too.  But this is such a big area!  My belly is bigger because of so much swelling, and I can really feel it when I go to put on socks & shoes.  It's like leaning over with a beach ball attached to an already plump baby bump!  And just for the record, I hate bending over and I avoid it when I can.

Sleep is sporedic.  I'm either up taking a potty break, or flipping from one side to the other because my hips have gone numb or are sore.  I'm also waking up to clogged sinuses which leads to open mouth breathing at night, which leads to dry mouth and sore throat.  So I'm often up trying to unclog, getting a drink and rolling on some lip balm to fight the dryness.  Add to that Big C's sporadic waking up screaming crying in the middle of the night and you have a recipe for very little sleep.  I'm getting enough though.  I'm tired, but still able to function.  And when I feel exceptionally exhausted, I use Big C's nap time to take a nap and try to rejuvenate myself as well.

Everything else is pretty much the same pregnancy wise.  No contractions, other than an occasional BH squeeze here and there.  It is still really rough picking up Big C and carrying him from room to room when I need to.  My reduced lung capacity has me dealing with a lot of huffing and puffing and I've been getting hit with some wicked heartburn here and there as well.  Thank goodness for Tums!  Well, that's about it for now! ;-)

A Note To Fellow Bloggers, 29 Weeks Update & Random Thoughts

29 weeks already!  Sometimes it feels like it's going slow, but being busy with Big C has helped in that department.  I think I'm pretty close to making the decision to just go and schedule a c-section.  I'll wait until my next sonogram @ 32 weeks, but I'm almost 100% on going ahead with it.  I have 10 weeks until I get to see and hold this baby.  I still can't believe it sometimes.  I don't want to sound like a broken record here, but I am so truly blessed and thankful to God for my son and this newest baby.  I am not without my own trials that I've had to face, but I have been fortunate to get pregnant on my own, without medical intervention, maintain a healthy pregnancy and deliver (even if by c-section) a healthy, happy handsome little boy.  AND I am fortunate to again been able to conceive, and so far so good on maintaining a healthy pregnancy and I pray it will continue to a problem free delivery and a happy, healthy baby.

K and I got married in August of 2001.  And although we didn't immediately start trying to have a baby, we didn't prevent it either.  I've battled with female troubles since I was 14 years old.  Had my first D&C @ 14 then had to have another @ 16.  My hormones have never cooperated and were in *wacky* mode all the time.  Skipping a period or 2 then bleeding non-stop for the better part of 8 weeks.  I have been put on probably 3/4 of the birth control pills known to man in order to try to regulate my cycle.  Some worked, some didn't.  I've had ovarian cysts in the past as well.  After I got married, I began weaning myself off the BC pills...hoping that my cycles would continue to be normalish.  And for a while they were.  Normalish for me is just having a cycle once a month.  I never have and never will be an every xx day kinda girl.  One month it'll be a 25 days cycle, the next month it's 32 days.  Long story short, after a few months I kicked the BC completely and was cycling once a month.  The months passed, and so did the years and I never conceived.  Hubs and I pretty much gave up on the notion of it happening for us.  We talked and thought about fertility treatments of various sorts and the potential of having to consider IVF if Clomid wasn't successful.  And IVF was just something we could not afford.  We just didn't have that kind of money to put out in a chunk.  So we decided that if God had planned for us to have a child or children, then it would happen.  It was out of our hands.  God did have a plan and he did give us a beautiful son.  He decided when, not me.  You know, 6+ years is a long time when you are TTC.  I know what the longing feels like.  I know that twinge you feel when you see mothers with their babies.  When you see friends and family having babies, and there you sit with an empty womb and empty arms.  I was never jealous, but I did hope that one day, I'd have a baby of my own to love and cherish.

I follow many blogs.  And I have been there with you when you have written about your disappointment of a BFN.  The profoundness of experiencing a loss, be it before or after a delivery.  I have sat here and shed countless tears for you...with you.  I have prayed for you.  I have gone to bed at night thinking of you and admiring your strength, courage and faith.  For those of you that have experienced wonderful things after such heartbreak, I have laughed, jumped up and down and cried with happiness for you.  And for those still waiting, I wait with you, praying and hoping that you find the happiness you are seeking.  I'm not a stalker...seriously.  But just so you know, you have another person in your corner, rooting you on and ready to celebrate your victory.

OK, so I know that was a bit heavy so on to 29 week news.  I see my doctor again in a few weeks and I really need to ask him.  "Why does my crotch feel like it's going to fall out?"  No, really.  It's not the baby-feels-like-it-is-going-to-fall-out pressure.  It's my pelvis.  I think I can hear it crying.  It hurts SO bad.  It hurts to just walk, but if I try to swing a leg over a gate, or heck just lift it up high enough to step into the tub to take a shower it feels as though it is going to crumble.  I never had this with my first pregnancy, so I am assuming it might have something to do with only having 6 months to recover from a 9 month pregnancy and a c-section before getting pregnant again.  By week definition I am 7 months pregnant.  I've been experiencing and expecting discomforts.  But this one in particular is totally new for me.

Sleeping is off and on sucky.  Some nights are good, others...meh.  Half of it is because I get clogged and can't breathe...thank you sinuses and allergies.  I'm still tired, but I found myself needing a nap while the boy napped this morning.  Not that I felt like taking a nap.  I mean I needed it.  The babe still moves a bit erratically, which throws me into panic mode.  But I keep reminding myself as long as I feel something no matter how subtle, things are OK.  This was the part that drove me crazy with Big C.  I wanted him out because I couldn't stand not being able to *check* on him all the time.  So if he decided to take a snoozer day, I freaked thinking something was wrong.  On the same note, I wanted him in because inside he was protected from all the outside dangers.

I was talking to a friend of mine yesterday and I'm coming to the realization while talking to her that being a parent, a mommy isn't just hard in the sense of the word.  But I find myself worrying about Big C all the time.  I mean even in the sense of him being an adult.  I want him to grow up into a good man.  Not an alcoholic or drug addict or a player who just uses and manipulates women.  I want him to want to be a good man himself.  I don't want him doing stupid things like drinking and driving or getting into a car with someone who has.  I see news reports of someone running a child over with a car only to leave the scene and my heart stops for a moment, worried that that fate could find my son.  And that is only part of it.  More immediately the thoughts rolling in my head are how boys do silly and risky things to show off.  How am I going to teach him to be cautious without being afraid to try new things?  I mean sometimes it can be a fine line between going out for the football team and wanting to do stunts on a dirt bike.  No, really!

I don't want to be the crazy mother who never lets him do anything, or sends him out of the house with bubble wrap duct taped to his entire body.  But I also don't want to just let him "Live & Learn".  I can't.  He is a child and doesn't know *how* live and learn works!  What lesson will have been taught to him if he kills himself or ends up in the hospital paralyzed?  I am a chronic worry wart.  And yeah, I probably should be seeking therapy for it before I make my children worse than me.  For now, I'll just continue to pray that he and the baby stay safe, make good decisions and ask the Lord to keep them and protect them.  After all it is His plan and if anyone can keep them from harm, it is Him.

-MoM-

Happy Birthday to Me!

My cake was great....but the boy thought his was waaay better!

Well OK, it was actually yesterday, but I was busy freaking out over the fact that the baby in utero wasn't moving but a twinge.  I nearly called the doctor.  I mean, this is my second pregnancy.  I should remember this from the first one and not be so neurotic.  Should being the operative word here.  Well I am, and you know what?  I'm not going to apologize for it.  I have always been a worry wart and the fact that I've been through one pregnancy does mean that will change.  But I called this morning and apparently I forgot from my last pregnancy, a mere year ago that during the 3rd trimester it's normal for the babe to slow down and now be as fast and furious.  I totally remembered the nurse telling me that with Big C after she mentioned it.  Anyway, I'm veering off from the original topic here.

I was surprised with a yummo cake.  It was wonderful...fluffy, moist and the icing made the babe dance in my belly for all of 5 minutes.  But hey, it was movement!  My husband bought me some fabulous books on child rearing and the whole psychology behind discipline and strong-willed children.  We are new parents, there is no manual.  I also don't have my mom to go to for advice on complex issues that may come up.  I was also treated nicely by my dad and my brother!

Big C was eye-balling me as soon as I had cake and ice cream in hand.  So of course, I shared.  Apparently, I cannot get ice cream and cake to his mouth fast enough as he protested each time I did not have it ready and waiting for his open mouth.  He reminded me of a baby bird waiting to be fed.  It was hilarious.  He was a bit more difficult to get to bed...you know, sugar high and all right before bed time.  Not a smart move, but I plead new parent syndrome.  OK so it was all of 8 minutes rather than the usual 3-5.  Damn, I keep thinking about that cake.  I totally haven't eaten lunch yet, but I want cake.  No, no...I'm not going to eat cake for lunch.  I will just go off and indulge in my Popeye's leftovers **drool**...then maybe have cake.  Maybe.  I mean, I may as well.  Because once this baby is born, I seriously....seriously need to lose weight and get into shape.  I have 2 kids to keep up with now and I can't be huffing and puffing like a freight train when trying to play with them.  Not to mention, I want to be healthier for them.  So, since I've long since kicked the nicotine habit...my fat-arse lifestyle is going to have to get kicked to the curb as well.  It's not a New Year resolution...it is just something I have to do...for me and my babies.

OK, well, I'm going to get the Bubs, he's up from his nap and I'm going to give him some lunch and dive into my Popeye's.  Nomnomnom!

-MoM-