Monday, December 28, 2009

Top Ten of 2009

As this year comes to an end, it's time to reflect and think about the year that has past.
Here's my Top Ten of 2009.
(in no particular order)

10. Watching Banana play hockey. Girl's got some heart for the game.
9. Loving The Chef more than I did last year. He really pulled through, and was the man I knew he was.
8. Finally understanding that I don't have to do it all... that I can relinquish some control... even if it bothers me.
7. Understanding that enjoying my children for who they are, not what I want them to be, is one of the greatest things ever. They are really neat little people.
6. Renewing friendships that I thought were long gone, and finding the joy of new ones.
5. Seeing Kim.
4. Meeting Sue.
3. Making and keeping promises to myself.
2. The simple things are sometimes the best things.
1. Pineapple

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

We got our Marine!

The Chef had this wonderful idea. He suggested that we adopt an Armed Service member who is deployed overseas. We can write to them, send goodies, and just try to make their day a little brighter. Just something to say that people do care.

But there is another reason why we are doing this. We want to show our babes, who have damn near everything and anything that they want, that there are simple things that people can do to make someone's life better. That we need to support our service men and women... even if the only thing this family can do is send cookies and other small items.

We are going to have the babes draw Our Marine pictures, and I am thinking that Butter and Banana may write letters that we can send with the package.

I am excited about this. I hope that Our Marine has the time to email us back. If not, I have a few ideas of what to send from a few of my girlfriends who husbands are in the military. Maybe once Our Marine opens the package and sees how kick ass it is, we will get a response.

I just see this as being a good thing for all of us.

Monday, December 7, 2009

Notes to Self: Early Dec. Edition

Notes to Self is a way that I can remind myself of things that I need to improve on, things that I need to let go of, and just a way of acknowledging things, and getting "that stuff" off my chest.

So here it goes:

Note to self: If Pineapple wants a bottle at 5 am, you can not close your eyes for "just a few minutes". You will wake up like you did this morning, with your mother-in-law in your living room.

Note to self: You know you have approx. two hours between feedings. An hour and a half if you take into consideration the half an hour you have to hold her upright so formula doesn't come out of her nose. Do yourself a favor and stop acting surprised that she wants another bottle.

Note to self: It has only been two weeks since you have had surgery. Cut yourself some slack. Yes, you still need your pain pills. Yes, climbing the stairs still hurts. Yes, bending at the waist is STILL a bad idea. Take it easy. You don't have to be a martyr.

Note to self: At least start off in your bed tonight. I'm sure The Chef misses sleeping next to you just as much as you miss sleeping next to him.

Note to Self: Try and remember that Butter is only 9 and Banana is only 7. You need to take a deep breath before you snap at them. They don't mean any harm, they just want to help. They just want to be with you too.

Note to Self: It's okay. It really is.

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Baby Poop and Formula

I refuse to be one of those mothers of a newborn that does nothing but share all the gruesome information about their new baby. Not saying that it is a bad thing... and I am sure when I had Butter, I talked a lot about it too... but being older and wiser, being that he was my first and I am now on my fourth, I just want to hand you a copy of "Everyone Poops"and go about with my life.

You wanna talk about how awesome your new baby is? I am all ears. You wanna talk about how grainy your new baby's poop is? Not so much. I am dealing with my own formula and poop issues. Thanks.

Sometimes I miss the nuances of being that new mom. The excitement when you figure something out, on your own, and it works. With the second, you know what works; with the third there is hardly any surprises; with the fourth... it comes back to you like riding a bicycle. Butt Rash that isn't getting any better? Make some Butt Balm.

You get the idea.

But with that first one, the one that gave you the title of Mommy, there is something that is just mystical about everything.

You don't yet know the magic words to shoo away the monsters that are in the closet or under the bed. You don't yet know the heartache when you send them to school for the first time. You don't yet know how proud you feel when they finally master something that have been working on. You don't yet know the way that a lost lovey makes you feel. You don't yet know what it feels like when they truly understand and utter the words "I love you"...

and "I hate you".

Not to say that each new baby is a blessing; not to say that your heart doesn't break when these things occur with the other children that you just so happen to be blessed with. But it's not as shiny. It's still awesome, and of course it's exciting because the new babe is saying it, but it doesn't have the same exact... what is the word I am looking for... newness. It's not exactly the same, but it's not completely different either.

Butter will be 10 on his next birthday. Everyday is something new with him. Banana is right behind him, and I do enjoy the fact that I can look at her and say, "I don't think so, your brother tried to pull the same stunt." It makes me feel powerful and all knowing... because I am in a way. Butter taught me. Butter more than likely got away with it because I didn't know any better, or I didn't catch on.

I love all of my babes... each and every single one of them. I do adore them when they need to crawl into my lap. I understand that they need to cuddle when they don't feel good. But there is something that is just that much more when Butter still needs me. I give it another year or two before he honestly believes that I am one of the dumbest humans to walk the planet.

And like always, he will take the lead and prepare me for when his brother and sisters start to feel that way too.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Pineapple's Birth Story

Pineapple was born at 7:03 pm on Monday, November 23, 2009. She weighed in at a whopping 5 lbs. 5 oz. She is 17 inches long.

My OB started the pit drip at 10:15 am. I was having some mild contrax, but nothing more than what I have been having the last couple of weeks. The nurse suggested that I change positions and had me sit in a rocking chair that they had in the room which was great, because my water broke. This is around 12:30pm. I waited for my body to take over but the contrax were still extremely tolerable. Around 3 pm, I got up to use the bathroom, I had a good gush of water, and my contrax stopped. Back to the birthing bed so I could be checked, and I was only at 3 cm. My new nurse suggested a couple of different positions that I could try to help move things along, and at this stage, I was ready to do anything. I was thinking though, with the change of position, my water gushing, and the pit, things would start to move along.

I had asked for a dry towel, and when we removed the one that I had been using, I noticed some bright red blood, and my nurse said that sometimes that happens. There wasn't a lot, nothing more than a small pin prick, so I dismissed it. My OB came back in to check on me, and I was still at 3 cm. He told the nurse to up the drip every 20 mins, and that he would be back, he had to run to his office. (Which I found to be hillarious, but you have to know my OB to understand why.)

By 6 pm, they had the drip at 30, I still wasn't really feeling any contrax, so they gave me an internal monitor to see what was going on. I was on oxygen at this point, but Pineapple's heart beat kept dipping, there was blood coming from somewhere, and I was only dilated to 4. My OB was pissed (his words). He kept looking at the printout from the monitors, and shaking his head. The Chef said, "Follow your gut"; My OB then decided that I was going to have a C-Section. It was the best thing for both Pineapple and myself.

I was trying at this point not to freak out... The Chef was already on edge. Once we got into the OR though... I lost it. I started bawling. My nurse was wonderful. She held my shoulders as I was bent over. She looked me in the eye and told me that I could do this. She even held a tissue so I could blow my nose. I received a spinal and some other narcotic. I don't remember a lot... but I do remember apologizing to them for "being a drunken elephant." (When they were getting me settled on the table) and then I started laughing. Now see, I am one of those people that laugh when they are nervous, and I would think having an emergency C-Section qualifies as a nervous situation.

Before he started the surgery, my OB said to get The Chef in there. He called him by name, which is one of those small things, but it's one of the reasons why I like my OB as much as I do. Next thing I know, The Chef is at my head, talking to me, and the only thing I could think of is that my fingers were numb. I found that odd that my fingers were numb.

Once Pineapple was born everyone in the OR commented on how little she was. The reason why I was being inducted was because I had gestational diabetes. She was supposed to be my biggest baby, and here she is my smallest. My OB was even more upset, because we still do not know why she was so little, why she wasn't tolerating the contrax, and why I was bleeding.

From the time that it was decided that I was going to have the C-Section to having her, it was roughly 25 minutes. For them to finish with me, it was around an hour.

Pineapple and I were released on Thanksgiving. Who could have asked for anything better to be thankful for.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Another Lazy Suday Afternoon

I half heatedly said that I was going to keep up with this... and unfortunately I haven't. There isn't just much to say. Our lives are pretty routine at this point... nothing exciting going on.

I have been diving into my fandom head first again, and that is giving me a much needed break from my own paranoia about the current events in our country. Because the hormone of choice this pregnancy is rage, it's just better if I don't spend too much time banging my head into walls. It does nothing but give me a head ache.

School is right around the corner, and so is my children's sport of choice... hockey. I almost feel as if I just left the rink, the smelly equipment, and that life behind... and here it is starting again. Luckily, when the babes being so close in age, Banana, can wear Butter's equipment this year, and we luckily were able to pick up equipment for him on clearance last year.

So, yeah... nothing new... which sometimes is the best.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Unassisted Home Births (Yes, I eventually get to my point)

DH and I were watching this show on Discovery Health the other night (Sunday I want to say) about Home Birthing. Wait, I should rephrase that. It was about unassisted Home Birthing.

Now, I am one of those people that say time and time again... "There is a reason it's called modern medicine." I am one of those people that look at other women and say, "Why?" and "What if..."

But at the end of the day it's all about you, and what you feel comfortable in doing. I think that in this day and age, prenatal care is a must, which is why I usually have very little need for women who do want to have an unassisted Home Birth. The majority of these women do not receive prenatal care.

Don't get me wrong. I adore my OB. He treats me like I am the only pregnant woman in the world, and I couldn't ask for better care. It wasn't like that when I delivered Butter... he is 8. In hindsight, that was a horrible birth experience. Very medicated. Very surgical. Very cold.

A quick recap: I was GBS positive, and my water had broke. I was having no contractions. The L&D nurse wanted to send me home. She kept telling me that I had urinated on myself. The Chef had to get angry, and yell at her to check to make sure that my water didn't break. She finally did do the strip test. My water did break. They started me on the pit drip and anti-boditics. 12 hours later, I had a 4th degree episiodimy, that I still have issues with to this day. The doctor that delivered him even told me that I didn't need it. She looked at The Chef and was concerned by the size of his shoulders. Being a FTM at the time, I exercised that pern. muscle like crazy too. And with that being my first birth, I didn't know any better.

Maybe because I am older... or I have done this a few more times... or I know the horror stories... or I know that babies can be born in distress. Maybe it's because all of my babes have been born with cords around their necks and needed oxygen... the list goes on... I just can not see why anyone would want to subject themselves to the what ifs. The bad part of what ifs.

Like I mentioned before... I am all for making the right decision for you and your family. I am all for wanting to be comfortable when you actually give birth. But expect the looks and/or the comments from mothers like me. Mothers that have been there. Mothers that wonder how you can put not only yourself but the life of your baby at risk.

The do call it modern medicine for a reason.