(I am trying to get back in the habit of blogging regularly again. I have really slacked off since Sophie was born! I guess that is a good reason, but still... For me, the writing habit is of the "use it or lose it" variety. I apologize in advance if I am a bit random or rambling.)
Today is cleaning day. My first couple weeks back at work I was really good about keeping the house picked up and laundry kept up. That, unfortunately, didn't last long. So, today is cleaning day. I am really trying to stick to one room at a time but I keep getting so distracted! I have a ring sling, though, that helps me get more done when Sophie is awake and wanting Mommy instead of Daddy or big sister.
Thursday, we had a new roof put on our house. The week before I went back to work, Emma was on Spring Break and showed me some spots on her ceiling. Yep, water damage. We could have just had the spots repaired, but in a couple years would need a new roof entirely, so we just had that done all at once.
Not only was the roof old and deteriorating, our gutters were in horrid condition! Neither the roof nor the gutters were built properly when the house was built, so we are dealing with that damage now. Today we are getting all new gutters and soffit. We are also getting a leaf guard put in, so no more climbing to the roof to clean out the gutters.
It is so nice to have repairs done to the house. I have not been feeling the love for it lately. I joke about wanting the contractor from Holmes on Homes to visit, but really would prefer Extreme Makeover Home Edition. Eleven years in, we are finding out just how poorly our house was built 32 years ago, and it is wearing on the soul, that's for sure. I know "home" is what you make it, but when our house seems to be revolting against us... the home feeling just isn't as strong. We are slowly but surely getting the repairs done, and I hope soon we can work on improvements.
In the meantime, while the workers are working on the outside of the house, I'll work on the inside, making it once again "home."
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
No more...
Two weeks ago, I had a procedure done that has made me sterile. Same principle as having my tubes tied, but non-invasive and not painful. It was a simple, quick, and easy procedure. (I even got to watch the screen along with the doctor!) This is definitely what I wanted, and I have no second thoughts or regrets.
However, for some reason I am a little sad. Sophie is the last baby in the house. There is no reason to hang on to her adorable little outfits once she outgrows them. The heirloom baby cradle will never be used by our little family unit again, until Emma is grown and has a little one of her own.
And for the life of me, I don't know why this makes me sad! I truly do not want to have more children. I am happy with our family the way it is. And honestly, financially and spatially we can't have another. We can't afford for me not to work, and childcare for three, one after school and two full-time, would be impossible. We'd need a larger house if we had another, also. Bigger house = bigger mortgage. Again, not possible.
Is this some innate biological feeling? Some ancient instinct saying "females must be able to produce!"?? A biological clock I never knew I had?? I mean, logically and rationally (and even 95% emotionally) I know without a doubt this was the right direction. But that tiny, hidden part of me thinks "what have I done?"
However, for some reason I am a little sad. Sophie is the last baby in the house. There is no reason to hang on to her adorable little outfits once she outgrows them. The heirloom baby cradle will never be used by our little family unit again, until Emma is grown and has a little one of her own.
And for the life of me, I don't know why this makes me sad! I truly do not want to have more children. I am happy with our family the way it is. And honestly, financially and spatially we can't have another. We can't afford for me not to work, and childcare for three, one after school and two full-time, would be impossible. We'd need a larger house if we had another, also. Bigger house = bigger mortgage. Again, not possible.
Is this some innate biological feeling? Some ancient instinct saying "females must be able to produce!"?? A biological clock I never knew I had?? I mean, logically and rationally (and even 95% emotionally) I know without a doubt this was the right direction. But that tiny, hidden part of me thinks "what have I done?"
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Who is your daughter's role model?
Ok, our family has four shows we watch together, as a family, and never miss (thank goodness for DVR). Bones, House, Chuck, and Big Bang Theory. Last night it was just us girls, my husband had a business dinner, so Emma and I watched this week's episode of Chuck again. (If you are not familiar with this show, a brief summary: everyday, average guy gets CIA super-spy stuff in his head and gets two handlers to make him a spy. Handlers are Adam Baldwin [by far the best Baldwin] and a beautiful strong blonde, Sarah.) As the episode was finishing, I took Sophie to her room to change her diaper and soon Emma was at my side, excited at the ending. She was jumping around in the way wound up kids do, and our dogs were in the doorway getting all excited, too. She starts playing with our Pointer, and I heard "I'm going to go all Chuck on you! Nevermind, I'm going to go all SARAH on you! Hiiiiiii-yah!" She kept jumping around, fake kung-fu fighting the dog, and kept repeating "See? I'm all Sarah on you! You can't get me!"
I love that she loves this show, and Sarah's character. The main character, Chuck, likes the spy world. He has worked at a dead-end retail job since being unfairly expelled from Stanford where he was top in his class. But, he refuses to carry a real gun, kill people, or let the assignments take away from his life with his family and friends. Oh, and still gets the girl :) But also, the female leads are both wonderful for her to see - Chuck's sister, a brilliant doctor, and Sarah, who kicks butt regularly. Neither one defer to their male counterparts but treat themselves (and hence are treated by others) as equals.
So Emma's playing around last night, combined with a tweet I received this morning, really got me to thinking about the new female role models and who I want my daughter to look up to. I mentioned Bones as one of our can't miss shows - the main character there, Temperance Brennan, is on that list. Genius scientist AND bestselling author? Yes, please!
Here are a few others I like:
Mellody Hobson, financial contributor on Good Morning America
Sandra Bullock, Oscar winner, adoptive mom, handles things with class. Oh, and doesn't party like crazy and show her undies (or lack of)
Robin Roberts, Good Morning America anchor. She's tall, smart, athletic, and relatable.
Selena Gomez - Emma's already a fan. Cute, sweet, Disney star. Acts, sings, designer, philanthropist, dog rescuer.
Emma Watson - Hermione! Also scholar, humanitarian, and model.
Danica McKellar - Remember Winnie from The Wonder Years? Yeah, she's a math genius. She has also authored two books to encourage girls with math.
Then there's the "real-life" role models: moms, teachers, local business owners, pastors, the women in our community who aren't afraid to take charge and make a change for the better.
So who do you want your daughters to look up to and admire?
I love that she loves this show, and Sarah's character. The main character, Chuck, likes the spy world. He has worked at a dead-end retail job since being unfairly expelled from Stanford where he was top in his class. But, he refuses to carry a real gun, kill people, or let the assignments take away from his life with his family and friends. Oh, and still gets the girl :) But also, the female leads are both wonderful for her to see - Chuck's sister, a brilliant doctor, and Sarah, who kicks butt regularly. Neither one defer to their male counterparts but treat themselves (and hence are treated by others) as equals.
So Emma's playing around last night, combined with a tweet I received this morning, really got me to thinking about the new female role models and who I want my daughter to look up to. I mentioned Bones as one of our can't miss shows - the main character there, Temperance Brennan, is on that list. Genius scientist AND bestselling author? Yes, please!
Here are a few others I like:
Mellody Hobson, financial contributor on Good Morning America
Sandra Bullock, Oscar winner, adoptive mom, handles things with class. Oh, and doesn't party like crazy and show her undies (or lack of)
Robin Roberts, Good Morning America anchor. She's tall, smart, athletic, and relatable.
Selena Gomez - Emma's already a fan. Cute, sweet, Disney star. Acts, sings, designer, philanthropist, dog rescuer.
Emma Watson - Hermione! Also scholar, humanitarian, and model.
Danica McKellar - Remember Winnie from The Wonder Years? Yeah, she's a math genius. She has also authored two books to encourage girls with math.
Then there's the "real-life" role models: moms, teachers, local business owners, pastors, the women in our community who aren't afraid to take charge and make a change for the better.
So who do you want your daughters to look up to and admire?
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Music to (in) our ears
Maybe I'm getting old, or am just becoming more aware of what my daughter hears, but I've really started paying attention to the lyrics of songs lately as Emma and I listen to the radio in the car. It really started a few years ago with that horribly annoying song about "Superman" but not the superhero - the really gross, disgusting thing apparently young men like to do to their partners in bed. Remember that song? Soulja Boy was the artist. It was everywhere, even played at Emma's school at an outdoor PTO event. Here are the lyrics. Yeah, my daughter's elementary school was playing this for the kids.
Recently, I've seen a lot of criticism of Lady Gaga's work. I know we live in the Bible Belt, and am myself a practicing Christian, albeit a more liberal one. I'm more of the "live and let live and let's all love each other and get along" mindset than the "my way is the only way, change your way or you're going to Hell" mindset. I know many people of the second persuasion, though. A couple weeks ago someone on my Facebook friends list whom I went to school with posted a rant about her music, mainly her videos. Granted, they are out there. These aren't your standard pre-reality show MTV 3-minute bubblegum videos. Her videos tend to follow the Thriller-esque, mini-movie productions, but more avant garde. This person's complaints were that the videos were available online and his kids could find them and watch them and be exposed to a naked female body (I'm sure his daughter knows what girl parts look like) and that Lady Gaga has admitted that she likes both girls and boys. You know what? Elton John is gay, too, and no one criticizes his music. But that's another topic all together...
I have Lady Gaga's first CD, and most of the songs from the second. I love them. Emma loves them. And you know what? She can listen to them all she wants! I've listened to them, I've read the lyrics in the CD liner. Nothing is objectionable. Lady Gaga has said that some songs have different meanings, but there is no way to get that from the songs themselves. And as for the online availability? Someone apparently needs to teach his children rules for the computer and know how to check out where they visit while in Internetland. And does he really think that's the worst thing out there?? Then he really needs to get out more.
On the other hand, there is Rihanna. I like her music, too. It's catchy, it's fun to sing along with, and she's just adorable. And after the Chris Brown incident last year, the whole country is in love with her. Sunday her song "Rude Boy" came on the radio as Emma and I were going to my parents' house for Easter dinner. Here is what we heard: Come here rude boy, can you get it up? Come here rude boy, are you big enough?
Like that's subtle. I'm sure most parents really don't want to hear "What is she talking about?" and have to answer that.
My point isn't even that these songs are out there, really. Like I said, I'm pretty liberal about a lot of things. And I like Rihanna, that's not the point either. It's the perception, I guess, that gets to me. People are shocked by the performance and assume the music is just as provocative, or remember the vulnerability of last year and assume the music is innocent. It's the judgments that get to me, I guess.
Just pay a bit more attention to what is put in our kids' heads. And if you don't agree with something they listen to, talk to them about why. But PLEASE have a better reason than "I don't like the video" or "that person is homosexual." Be a bigger person than that.
Recently, I've seen a lot of criticism of Lady Gaga's work. I know we live in the Bible Belt, and am myself a practicing Christian, albeit a more liberal one. I'm more of the "live and let live and let's all love each other and get along" mindset than the "my way is the only way, change your way or you're going to Hell" mindset. I know many people of the second persuasion, though. A couple weeks ago someone on my Facebook friends list whom I went to school with posted a rant about her music, mainly her videos. Granted, they are out there. These aren't your standard pre-reality show MTV 3-minute bubblegum videos. Her videos tend to follow the Thriller-esque, mini-movie productions, but more avant garde. This person's complaints were that the videos were available online and his kids could find them and watch them and be exposed to a naked female body (I'm sure his daughter knows what girl parts look like) and that Lady Gaga has admitted that she likes both girls and boys. You know what? Elton John is gay, too, and no one criticizes his music. But that's another topic all together...
I have Lady Gaga's first CD, and most of the songs from the second. I love them. Emma loves them. And you know what? She can listen to them all she wants! I've listened to them, I've read the lyrics in the CD liner. Nothing is objectionable. Lady Gaga has said that some songs have different meanings, but there is no way to get that from the songs themselves. And as for the online availability? Someone apparently needs to teach his children rules for the computer and know how to check out where they visit while in Internetland. And does he really think that's the worst thing out there?? Then he really needs to get out more.
On the other hand, there is Rihanna. I like her music, too. It's catchy, it's fun to sing along with, and she's just adorable. And after the Chris Brown incident last year, the whole country is in love with her. Sunday her song "Rude Boy" came on the radio as Emma and I were going to my parents' house for Easter dinner. Here is what we heard: Come here rude boy, can you get it up? Come here rude boy, are you big enough?
Like that's subtle. I'm sure most parents really don't want to hear "What is she talking about?" and have to answer that.
My point isn't even that these songs are out there, really. Like I said, I'm pretty liberal about a lot of things. And I like Rihanna, that's not the point either. It's the perception, I guess, that gets to me. People are shocked by the performance and assume the music is just as provocative, or remember the vulnerability of last year and assume the music is innocent. It's the judgments that get to me, I guess.
Just pay a bit more attention to what is put in our kids' heads. And if you don't agree with something they listen to, talk to them about why. But PLEASE have a better reason than "I don't like the video" or "that person is homosexual." Be a bigger person than that.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Milestone missed
So in my previous post I mentioned being afraid of missing some of Sophie's "firsts" that I experienced with Emma. First crawling, first steps, first words, things like that. Those will be the beginnings of a lifetime of "firsts" - first boyfriend, first kiss, first time driving, first job - milestones that mark our babies' growth into adults.
Emma recently had another first, and one that she chose NOT to share with me: she had her first period. Wanna know how I found out? I found a wrapper in the garbage and knew it wasn't mine and asked her about it. She still wouldn't even admit to knowing what I was talking about until I asked her point-blank if she had started her period. I was floored when she said yes! I mean, it's still two weeks until she turns 12. I was not ready for this (emotionally, I mean. She's been "ready" for a couple years now and knew what would happen and what to do). But, I never in my wildest dreams thought she just wouldn't say anything about it at all.
And to be honest, it kind of hurt. Ok, it really hurt. I don't expect her to come to me when she has her first kiss. Most of her upcoming "firsts" she'll go running to her friends with before she ever gets around to us. That is a normal part of growing up, I know. But this one - I'm her MOM! I'm SUPPOSED to be the first to know about this, right?
We've always had a very good relationship. I've tried to make her feel like she can come to me with anything at all. And she has - until now. So now I worry about things that may not even be real: if she didn't tell me this, what else is she not telling me?? My imagination has been working overtime.
I have to trust in her, though. We're raising her, I hope, to know right from wrong and how to behave. And she is still young - it's not like she's a teenager yet with the freedoms of movement (transportation) that allows. She and her friends still have to rely on parents to go anywhere or do anything. She doesn't spend a lot of time at friends' houses right now, either. Her friends group has changed with the new school and the parents haven't caught up yet. So it's not like I really have to worry yet.
I have realized one thing, though. I am terrified of her becoming a teenager. I am losing my baby girl to the grownup world!
Emma recently had another first, and one that she chose NOT to share with me: she had her first period. Wanna know how I found out? I found a wrapper in the garbage and knew it wasn't mine and asked her about it. She still wouldn't even admit to knowing what I was talking about until I asked her point-blank if she had started her period. I was floored when she said yes! I mean, it's still two weeks until she turns 12. I was not ready for this (emotionally, I mean. She's been "ready" for a couple years now and knew what would happen and what to do). But, I never in my wildest dreams thought she just wouldn't say anything about it at all.
And to be honest, it kind of hurt. Ok, it really hurt. I don't expect her to come to me when she has her first kiss. Most of her upcoming "firsts" she'll go running to her friends with before she ever gets around to us. That is a normal part of growing up, I know. But this one - I'm her MOM! I'm SUPPOSED to be the first to know about this, right?
We've always had a very good relationship. I've tried to make her feel like she can come to me with anything at all. And she has - until now. So now I worry about things that may not even be real: if she didn't tell me this, what else is she not telling me?? My imagination has been working overtime.
I have to trust in her, though. We're raising her, I hope, to know right from wrong and how to behave. And she is still young - it's not like she's a teenager yet with the freedoms of movement (transportation) that allows. She and her friends still have to rely on parents to go anywhere or do anything. She doesn't spend a lot of time at friends' houses right now, either. Her friends group has changed with the new school and the parents haven't caught up yet. So it's not like I really have to worry yet.
I have realized one thing, though. I am terrified of her becoming a teenager. I am losing my baby girl to the grownup world!
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Almost time to rejoin the "real world"
I have two weeks left of my maternity leave. Sophie will be ten weeks old when I go back to work. I know that is four weeks later than many other moms have to leave their babies, but it still seems way too early to me! With Emma, I didn't go to work until she was sixteen months old. I was there for her first word, her first steps, first solid food, first everything. I am so afraid of missing one of these milestones with Sophie! I also worry about how she will be taken care of (not at first, my amazingly wonderful mother has offered to stay with her for several weeks until she is a bit older). No matter how good a babysitter might be, or how long we've known her, no one can care for a baby like her parent (or grandparent).
Oddly enough, when Emma was smaller I never wanted to be a stay at home mom. She was always Daddy's girl - she loved me, too, but unless she was hungry (nursing) she wanted her Daddy. That didn't change for many years, either. She just didn't seem to NEED me as much. She loved her daycare and was even a bit spoiled there. When she started school, homework night was one of the two nights a week I was working so she didn't need me for that, either.
Once she moved into middle school, though, things changed. Homework is harder and more involved. I can no longer trust she finishes it at the babysitter's house. By the time we get home from work and picking her up, it's dinner time, then bath and bedtime for her. We don't have time during the week to just catch up, relax, enjoy each others' company. I miss that.
Now we have Sophie. The past eight weeks have been wonderful. I have time with her during the day, time for myself when she naps, then time with Emma in the afternoons. I help her with her homework, we talk, we play, we do things together. She has time to go outside and play. We're more relaxed. We eat better meals, and earlier so we have time for family time after dinner.
Don't get me wrong - I love my job and will enjoy being back at work. It is challenging, and interesting, and I work with a lot of wonderful people who I miss interacting with. But I also have a financial obligation to my family to go to work. We just can't do without my salary in the mix.
But if one of us came across a winning lottery ticket, guess where I'll be...
Oddly enough, when Emma was smaller I never wanted to be a stay at home mom. She was always Daddy's girl - she loved me, too, but unless she was hungry (nursing) she wanted her Daddy. That didn't change for many years, either. She just didn't seem to NEED me as much. She loved her daycare and was even a bit spoiled there. When she started school, homework night was one of the two nights a week I was working so she didn't need me for that, either.
Once she moved into middle school, though, things changed. Homework is harder and more involved. I can no longer trust she finishes it at the babysitter's house. By the time we get home from work and picking her up, it's dinner time, then bath and bedtime for her. We don't have time during the week to just catch up, relax, enjoy each others' company. I miss that.
Now we have Sophie. The past eight weeks have been wonderful. I have time with her during the day, time for myself when she naps, then time with Emma in the afternoons. I help her with her homework, we talk, we play, we do things together. She has time to go outside and play. We're more relaxed. We eat better meals, and earlier so we have time for family time after dinner.
Don't get me wrong - I love my job and will enjoy being back at work. It is challenging, and interesting, and I work with a lot of wonderful people who I miss interacting with. But I also have a financial obligation to my family to go to work. We just can't do without my salary in the mix.
But if one of us came across a winning lottery ticket, guess where I'll be...
Saturday, February 6, 2010
She's here! And the rollercoaster began...
What an emotional week this has been!
Tuesday was the day for my scheduled induction of Sophie. Turns out she had other plans. At around 6:45 Sunday morning, I woke up having strange pains. I wondered if I was having contractions, but it didn't "fit" - felt different than when I was in labour with Emma, and running through the checklist from the doctor (belly tightening, gets worse, can't talk or walk through the pain) didn't really help. My husband woke up at 730 and asked if I was ok. I honestly answered, "I don't know!" I had him start keeping track of the timing just in case, and when I realized it was happening every three minutes (which puts me in the "10 an hour" range for the doctor) I had him call the office.
The on-call doctor said I should come to the hospital to get checked out, just in case. So my husband woke up Emma, she salted the front steps, he tried to shovel the ice off (unsuccessfully) and showered, I finished packing, and we got ready to leave. Thinking that we'd probably be sent back home, I didn't hurry, and we both thought we had hours. Finally around 930 I was putting on my shoes to leave when my water broke.
I changed clothes, and we headed to the hospital. We arrived at the door at 10:20. Emma ran in to get a wheelchair because by then, I REALLY couldn't walk. I was rolled up to a room, put in a gown, and examined. The nurse said I was between 4 & 5 cm and had someone call my doctor at home to let him know I was there. The anesthesiologist came in and tried to put in an epidural, which was difficult because apparently Sophie wouldn't tolerate me being in certain positions and her heart rate would drop. He finally got it inserted, and less than 5 minutes later at 11:18, she was here! My doctor walked in as I was being cleaned up. He told me that from the time the nurse called to say I was at 5 cm until she called back to say I was delivering was only 15 minutes.
A pediatrician came in and checked her out right away, and seemed surprised to find her in such good condition. He explained that many times a birth that is too fast is just as dangerous as one that is too long and puts the baby in distress. She was perfect, though, and passed all her screenings with flying colors!
Oh - for those who want to know she was 9 lbs 2 oz, 21 inches long, 39 weeks along, and has blue eyes and hair that looks both red and blonde, depending on the light.
Monday night we were discharged and went home. I was moving around pretty well, she was in excellent condition, and there was no reason to stay another night. We left the hospital at 6:30 and took our girls home. It was a sleepless night, but a normal one. The usual several feedings, and just her getting used to life on the outside.
Tuesday morning Chris took Emma to school and came back home. Around 8 I noticed Sophie's right arm was jerking a bit. I thought it was strange, but really didn't know what to make of it. I thought it was probably her hiccuping and her arm was just positioned the right way to be moved by the hiccups. I filed it away in my head just in case, though.
Then an hour later it happened again, but her eyes and mouth joined in. I called to make the appointment for her first checkup with the pediatrician, but since I had to change the information for her birthdate and all I forgot to ask for a nurse to ask about it. Then, another hour later, it happened yet again, and this time her right leg was involved. I called the office back and spoke to a nurse, who wanted to check with one of the nurse practitioners and call me back. She called back within a few minutes and wanted us to bring her in at 2 instead of Thursday, appointment day.
It happened again at 11, then three times at 12. We went to the doctor's office and tried to explain what was going on but having a hard time of it. Then, while the NP was out of the room, it began again. I had Chris get them right away, and all the practitioners came in to see. Phone calls were made to the head doctor, to Children's Hospital, and I think one other place. The verdict was they did not feel qualified to take care of this, with her being only two days old, and the doctor at Childrens Hospital wanted us brought in immediately by ambulance as a precaution. Sophie and I rode to the hospital, Chris picked up Emma from school and followed.
In the ER we were shown into a room right away, and testing began on her immediately. Seizures in a two day old are taken VERY seriously. She had an IV line inserted, blood drawn, urine drawn, and eventually a spinal tap. If you want to know what true torture is, sit with your two day old infant as she has all this done to her. I hope none of you ever have to go through that. She had another seizure while we were in the ER, and that was her biggest one yet. The others only lasted 20-30 seconds and that one was two full minutes. She was given Ativan to stop the seizure, and then phenobarbital to keep her from having any others. She was sent for a CT scan, and after the medicines were finished we were taken to our room.
We've seen a neurologist, an infectious disease specialist, and several pediatricians. She had an EEG on Wednesday, another spinal tap, several cultures taken, and blood for labs every morning. The infectious disease specialist was leaning toward a viral infection, which is what the second spinal tap was sent out for. Even though she didn't feel comfortable saying "probably" or anything definite, that is the most dangerous out of all the possiblilites. The neurologist read her CT and EEG and was positive her only problem was bleeding on the left side of her brain, which is actually common in vaginal births but does not usually affect the baby. He wanted to wait 48 hours and have another EEG to compare. If it was the bleeding, it would resolve itself.
Yesterday morning we had the second EEG and he read it and talked to us before we even left the room to come back to ours. It was perfect! She is 100% fine, and now that the combination of anti-seizure medicines have worked their way out of her tiny body she is awake and alert now. (Everyone wishes their newborn would sleep a lot. Trust me, you don't. It's unnatural and scary and nervewracking.) Unfortunately, even though the neurologist has cleared her and said there is no reason for us to stay, he is not her admitting doctor and she doesn't feel comfortable releasing us until the second spinal tap test returns, clearing her of the viral infection. I understand it's just a precaution, but we all want to be home so badly.
Today was a quiet day. Since we're just waiting for the last test to be returned nothing else is going on. One of the doctors came to check in today and our nurse checks in frequently, but that's it. Chris did our laundry and he and Emma came for a visit and brought clean clothes back. Sadly, though, Emma began feeling sick so they are back at home tonight. Hopefully she will be better tomorrow and they can come back.
I must say, though, that I have been overwhelmingly touched by the huge outpouring of love and support we've received this week. This is the first time I've been able to be on a computer all week, but I can check Facebook and Twitter on my phone and am amazed at how many comments and messages we've received about Sophie. Several friends have even posted about her on their own profiles asking for prayers for her. Gladly the prayers have worked and she is healthy and seizure-free again! The people in our church have been amazing, also. Emma has been staying with a family at church so Chris could be here with me. There have been so many phone calls and emails checking in on us every day. I am just amazed. And touched. And overwhelmed. It will take weeks to respond to everyone once we are able to return home! So, if any of those wonderful friends and family members read this, thank you from the bottom of my heart for your care and support. It has meant so much to us and really helped us get through this week of ups and downs and joy and tears.
Tuesday was the day for my scheduled induction of Sophie. Turns out she had other plans. At around 6:45 Sunday morning, I woke up having strange pains. I wondered if I was having contractions, but it didn't "fit" - felt different than when I was in labour with Emma, and running through the checklist from the doctor (belly tightening, gets worse, can't talk or walk through the pain) didn't really help. My husband woke up at 730 and asked if I was ok. I honestly answered, "I don't know!" I had him start keeping track of the timing just in case, and when I realized it was happening every three minutes (which puts me in the "10 an hour" range for the doctor) I had him call the office.
The on-call doctor said I should come to the hospital to get checked out, just in case. So my husband woke up Emma, she salted the front steps, he tried to shovel the ice off (unsuccessfully) and showered, I finished packing, and we got ready to leave. Thinking that we'd probably be sent back home, I didn't hurry, and we both thought we had hours. Finally around 930 I was putting on my shoes to leave when my water broke.
I changed clothes, and we headed to the hospital. We arrived at the door at 10:20. Emma ran in to get a wheelchair because by then, I REALLY couldn't walk. I was rolled up to a room, put in a gown, and examined. The nurse said I was between 4 & 5 cm and had someone call my doctor at home to let him know I was there. The anesthesiologist came in and tried to put in an epidural, which was difficult because apparently Sophie wouldn't tolerate me being in certain positions and her heart rate would drop. He finally got it inserted, and less than 5 minutes later at 11:18, she was here! My doctor walked in as I was being cleaned up. He told me that from the time the nurse called to say I was at 5 cm until she called back to say I was delivering was only 15 minutes.
A pediatrician came in and checked her out right away, and seemed surprised to find her in such good condition. He explained that many times a birth that is too fast is just as dangerous as one that is too long and puts the baby in distress. She was perfect, though, and passed all her screenings with flying colors!
Oh - for those who want to know she was 9 lbs 2 oz, 21 inches long, 39 weeks along, and has blue eyes and hair that looks both red and blonde, depending on the light.
Monday night we were discharged and went home. I was moving around pretty well, she was in excellent condition, and there was no reason to stay another night. We left the hospital at 6:30 and took our girls home. It was a sleepless night, but a normal one. The usual several feedings, and just her getting used to life on the outside.
Tuesday morning Chris took Emma to school and came back home. Around 8 I noticed Sophie's right arm was jerking a bit. I thought it was strange, but really didn't know what to make of it. I thought it was probably her hiccuping and her arm was just positioned the right way to be moved by the hiccups. I filed it away in my head just in case, though.
Then an hour later it happened again, but her eyes and mouth joined in. I called to make the appointment for her first checkup with the pediatrician, but since I had to change the information for her birthdate and all I forgot to ask for a nurse to ask about it. Then, another hour later, it happened yet again, and this time her right leg was involved. I called the office back and spoke to a nurse, who wanted to check with one of the nurse practitioners and call me back. She called back within a few minutes and wanted us to bring her in at 2 instead of Thursday, appointment day.
It happened again at 11, then three times at 12. We went to the doctor's office and tried to explain what was going on but having a hard time of it. Then, while the NP was out of the room, it began again. I had Chris get them right away, and all the practitioners came in to see. Phone calls were made to the head doctor, to Children's Hospital, and I think one other place. The verdict was they did not feel qualified to take care of this, with her being only two days old, and the doctor at Childrens Hospital wanted us brought in immediately by ambulance as a precaution. Sophie and I rode to the hospital, Chris picked up Emma from school and followed.
In the ER we were shown into a room right away, and testing began on her immediately. Seizures in a two day old are taken VERY seriously. She had an IV line inserted, blood drawn, urine drawn, and eventually a spinal tap. If you want to know what true torture is, sit with your two day old infant as she has all this done to her. I hope none of you ever have to go through that. She had another seizure while we were in the ER, and that was her biggest one yet. The others only lasted 20-30 seconds and that one was two full minutes. She was given Ativan to stop the seizure, and then phenobarbital to keep her from having any others. She was sent for a CT scan, and after the medicines were finished we were taken to our room.
We've seen a neurologist, an infectious disease specialist, and several pediatricians. She had an EEG on Wednesday, another spinal tap, several cultures taken, and blood for labs every morning. The infectious disease specialist was leaning toward a viral infection, which is what the second spinal tap was sent out for. Even though she didn't feel comfortable saying "probably" or anything definite, that is the most dangerous out of all the possiblilites. The neurologist read her CT and EEG and was positive her only problem was bleeding on the left side of her brain, which is actually common in vaginal births but does not usually affect the baby. He wanted to wait 48 hours and have another EEG to compare. If it was the bleeding, it would resolve itself.
Yesterday morning we had the second EEG and he read it and talked to us before we even left the room to come back to ours. It was perfect! She is 100% fine, and now that the combination of anti-seizure medicines have worked their way out of her tiny body she is awake and alert now. (Everyone wishes their newborn would sleep a lot. Trust me, you don't. It's unnatural and scary and nervewracking.) Unfortunately, even though the neurologist has cleared her and said there is no reason for us to stay, he is not her admitting doctor and she doesn't feel comfortable releasing us until the second spinal tap test returns, clearing her of the viral infection. I understand it's just a precaution, but we all want to be home so badly.
Today was a quiet day. Since we're just waiting for the last test to be returned nothing else is going on. One of the doctors came to check in today and our nurse checks in frequently, but that's it. Chris did our laundry and he and Emma came for a visit and brought clean clothes back. Sadly, though, Emma began feeling sick so they are back at home tonight. Hopefully she will be better tomorrow and they can come back.
I must say, though, that I have been overwhelmingly touched by the huge outpouring of love and support we've received this week. This is the first time I've been able to be on a computer all week, but I can check Facebook and Twitter on my phone and am amazed at how many comments and messages we've received about Sophie. Several friends have even posted about her on their own profiles asking for prayers for her. Gladly the prayers have worked and she is healthy and seizure-free again! The people in our church have been amazing, also. Emma has been staying with a family at church so Chris could be here with me. There have been so many phone calls and emails checking in on us every day. I am just amazed. And touched. And overwhelmed. It will take weeks to respond to everyone once we are able to return home! So, if any of those wonderful friends and family members read this, thank you from the bottom of my heart for your care and support. It has meant so much to us and really helped us get through this week of ups and downs and joy and tears.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Holy crap this is going to be OUR child!
Ok, maybe I'm a little late in this revelation. Maybe VERY late, considering she's coming in three days. But this entire pregnancy, even though I can feel Sophie moving around, have seen her ultrasound pictures, and have been preparing like crazy for this little person to come, it's felt almost like a visitor was coming, someone else's child. Especially since we know what day she's going to be born. (Which, by the way, I LOVE since we have Emma and the dogs to plan for.)
Then yesterday, I was thinking about the shelves in her room. When Emma was born, I had lots of pretties to put on the shelves. There was a music box doll I had as a small child, flowers I got as a gift in the hospital, a couple figurines, things like that. Nearly 12 years later, they are all still in Emma's room. I tried to think of something I could put up in Sophie's room, but found myself thinking "That's personal, though." Then it hit me - what is more personal than our baby??
Logically, I understand the whole concept. We are about to have two children. Emma is going to have a sister. She will genetically be just as much a part of us as Emma is. But I have such a hard time wrapping my head around it! I have never lived in a family with more than one child. I'm an only child, my mom is an only child. My dad has 9 siblings, but we live too far away from any of them for me to have seen any kind of day-to-day interaction. Besides, they were all adults. The whole idea of multiple kids, of siblings, of that whole relationship, is so foreign to me!
I am not worried about this - I know once she is born it will all "click" and I'll be just fine, but for right now, it still seems like a very strange idea.
Then yesterday, I was thinking about the shelves in her room. When Emma was born, I had lots of pretties to put on the shelves. There was a music box doll I had as a small child, flowers I got as a gift in the hospital, a couple figurines, things like that. Nearly 12 years later, they are all still in Emma's room. I tried to think of something I could put up in Sophie's room, but found myself thinking "That's personal, though." Then it hit me - what is more personal than our baby??
Logically, I understand the whole concept. We are about to have two children. Emma is going to have a sister. She will genetically be just as much a part of us as Emma is. But I have such a hard time wrapping my head around it! I have never lived in a family with more than one child. I'm an only child, my mom is an only child. My dad has 9 siblings, but we live too far away from any of them for me to have seen any kind of day-to-day interaction. Besides, they were all adults. The whole idea of multiple kids, of siblings, of that whole relationship, is so foreign to me!
I am not worried about this - I know once she is born it will all "click" and I'll be just fine, but for right now, it still seems like a very strange idea.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
The countdown
This is a mixed-up week. On one side, today was my 36 week baby checkup. She's still a she!! I am very relieved at that. Also, she is definitely a big baby like Emma was, so we scheduled my induction. She will be born on February 2, less than 3 weeks away. I am so relieved to have a set date for her arrival, since now I also have to worry about Emma - if she's in school, if she will need picking up, if I go into labor in the middle of the night... I need to have a set date. Also, I'm a planner. I like to know exactly when things will happen and be ready.
On the other side, we're having a crisis with my kitty. If you are on my Facebook or Twitter lists, then you're aware of what is going on. Sunday night we came home from a visit with my parents to find Ocoee, my nearly 13 year old cat, seriously ill. She couldn't sit up, she wouldn't eat, and she was having small seizures every few minutes. After a sleepless night I took her to the vet first thing Monday morning. She is still there. One problem was a massive UTI, but the neurological problems have had her vet stumped. Yesterday she combed through Ocoee's chart (we've taken our animals there for 10 years now) and realized she's lost 2 lbs in only a few months. That is 1/4 her total body weight! Cats just don't do that unless something is wrong. Right now we're waiting for some blood test results, checking for less common feline viruses. If it is not a virus, then we're likely facing a brain tumor. Unfortunately, chances are higher that she has a terminal issue than a curable one, and I'm having a very hard time with that. We've had her and her twin sister since they were six month old kittens. I was 3 months pregnant with Emma when we got them, so they've always been our "first babies."
So right now we have two countdowns going on - one we are super excited about and one that devastates me. I am trying to focus on the good, though: a strong healthy baby, and a well-loved companion who has had a long pampered life. This week has been such an emotional rollercoaster but I am finally at peace with it.
On the other side, we're having a crisis with my kitty. If you are on my Facebook or Twitter lists, then you're aware of what is going on. Sunday night we came home from a visit with my parents to find Ocoee, my nearly 13 year old cat, seriously ill. She couldn't sit up, she wouldn't eat, and she was having small seizures every few minutes. After a sleepless night I took her to the vet first thing Monday morning. She is still there. One problem was a massive UTI, but the neurological problems have had her vet stumped. Yesterday she combed through Ocoee's chart (we've taken our animals there for 10 years now) and realized she's lost 2 lbs in only a few months. That is 1/4 her total body weight! Cats just don't do that unless something is wrong. Right now we're waiting for some blood test results, checking for less common feline viruses. If it is not a virus, then we're likely facing a brain tumor. Unfortunately, chances are higher that she has a terminal issue than a curable one, and I'm having a very hard time with that. We've had her and her twin sister since they were six month old kittens. I was 3 months pregnant with Emma when we got them, so they've always been our "first babies."
So right now we have two countdowns going on - one we are super excited about and one that devastates me. I am trying to focus on the good, though: a strong healthy baby, and a well-loved companion who has had a long pampered life. This week has been such an emotional rollercoaster but I am finally at peace with it.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Techno-what?
I've always thought of myself not so much as a technophobe, but as someone who didn't really need or want a lot of technological things. I much prefer the TV off, phone off, cozied up with a good book kind of day than one spent with 200 channels, four cell phones, three laptops, and a video game system kind of day. Sure, these things come in handy, but I could take them or leave them.
Then yesterday, I realized what I was doing: Sitting on the couch, using my Blackberry to read an article listing the "best of" from the CES show in Las Vegas last week and telling my husband all about the cool things I wanted!
Wow. I was amazed at myself! Granted, I've been immersed in this world for 10 or 11 years now with my husband's job, but I even surprised him this time. Usually he is telling me all about the CES show (their company usually attends) and I'm trying to follow what he says with a glazed-over expression on my face.
I was thinking even more, though, about how our lives have been forever changed by technology in the past decade. In 2000, we were buying CDs in stores, sending some email but lots of letters still, using a land line with an answering machine (cell phones were a luxury and actually turned off at times!), and using paper maps to find our way when lost away from home.
Now, we are in the age of Facebook and Twitter, satellite radio, and GPS. More and more homes have no land line (remember when it was the "poor folks" who had no home phone?) but rely on cell phones. We have Blackberries, iPhones, and the new Droid things. And - music sales are no longer tracked with CD sales but iTunes downloads. Even my 93 year old grandmother has email access now!
So, is all this stuff good or bad? Eh, I am not getting into all that. I am just enjoying getting to know long distance family members on Facebook, new friends on Twitter, and playing with the cool toys =)
Then yesterday, I realized what I was doing: Sitting on the couch, using my Blackberry to read an article listing the "best of" from the CES show in Las Vegas last week and telling my husband all about the cool things I wanted!
Wow. I was amazed at myself! Granted, I've been immersed in this world for 10 or 11 years now with my husband's job, but I even surprised him this time. Usually he is telling me all about the CES show (their company usually attends) and I'm trying to follow what he says with a glazed-over expression on my face.
I was thinking even more, though, about how our lives have been forever changed by technology in the past decade. In 2000, we were buying CDs in stores, sending some email but lots of letters still, using a land line with an answering machine (cell phones were a luxury and actually turned off at times!), and using paper maps to find our way when lost away from home.
Now, we are in the age of Facebook and Twitter, satellite radio, and GPS. More and more homes have no land line (remember when it was the "poor folks" who had no home phone?) but rely on cell phones. We have Blackberries, iPhones, and the new Droid things. And - music sales are no longer tracked with CD sales but iTunes downloads. Even my 93 year old grandmother has email access now!
So, is all this stuff good or bad? Eh, I am not getting into all that. I am just enjoying getting to know long distance family members on Facebook, new friends on Twitter, and playing with the cool toys =)
Saturday, January 2, 2010
(Aroma)Therapy
In around one more month, Sophie will be here. I am uncomfortable much of the time, and run out of energy way too quickly for my to-do lists (I am NOT one who can sit back and let things be). But, I am calm. I am peaceful. I am ready.
A while back, I decided Sophie's room didn't smell "baby" enough yet. It smelled like paint and new flooring. So I picked up a scented oil plug-in at the store, and chose a lavender vanilla scent to go in it. I am not a fan of straight-up lavender (the artificial scent, anyway) but was pleasantly surprised with this one. It is peaceful. Calm. Relaxing.
Sometimes, in the evening when the house is still and quiet, the scent will drift down the hall. I smell it, and feel happy. Some mornings, when I am rushing around the house, getting ready for work, I will open the door, step inside the room, and smell. I relax. Sophie isn't even here, yet, and I can smell her. It is the scent of her bedding, her clothes, even the Boppy pillow. I smell her room, and I think "soon."
When I am tired, when I am frustrated at something else I can't do, when I just flat out need a hug and no one is home, I breathe in her scent. And all is well again.
A while back, I decided Sophie's room didn't smell "baby" enough yet. It smelled like paint and new flooring. So I picked up a scented oil plug-in at the store, and chose a lavender vanilla scent to go in it. I am not a fan of straight-up lavender (the artificial scent, anyway) but was pleasantly surprised with this one. It is peaceful. Calm. Relaxing.
Sometimes, in the evening when the house is still and quiet, the scent will drift down the hall. I smell it, and feel happy. Some mornings, when I am rushing around the house, getting ready for work, I will open the door, step inside the room, and smell. I relax. Sophie isn't even here, yet, and I can smell her. It is the scent of her bedding, her clothes, even the Boppy pillow. I smell her room, and I think "soon."
When I am tired, when I am frustrated at something else I can't do, when I just flat out need a hug and no one is home, I breathe in her scent. And all is well again.
Friday, December 18, 2009
A Christmas story
Normally, I don't read through this kind of email. This one, though, I did. It was a new story to me, but the message is an old one that we often forget. With the panic of Christmas being a week away, and the media frenzy of commercials and cooking and decorating shows, news broadcasts giving "Must-buy" lists, we all need this reminder. Enjoy.
Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.
After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity. Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what..
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.
After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?" You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what?
Yeah," I said, "Why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. "What's in the little sack?" I asked. Shoes, they're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.
We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?" "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?"
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.
"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children - sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say
something, but it wouldn't come out.
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as mu ch as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak.
My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before, filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.
I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.
Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will."
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that,but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children.
For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.
Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas. We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible.
After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity. Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what..
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.
After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?" You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what?
Yeah," I said, "Why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand. "What's in the little sack?" I asked. Shoes, they're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.
We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?" "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?"
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.
"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children - sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say
something, but it wouldn't come out.
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as mu ch as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak.
My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before, filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.
I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.
Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will."
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that,but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children.
For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Ain't misbehaving
(I think that's the first time that word - the a-word - has ever come from me!)
It's not a good sign when your doctor walks into the room and the first thing out of her mouth is "Have you been misbehaving again?" Although this time, I promise I was not doing anything I shouldn't be doing. Honestly!
I called the office this morning because all this week I'd been having pains where I shouldn't be having pain. In short, my girlie parts were hurting like crazy! It felt like this baby was about to fall out. Last night was the worst. I had no energy whatsoever, and every part of me from my belly to my feet hurt like crazy. My back and hips were killing me, and the pressure "down there" was horrendous! I tried making dinner, and had to bring a dining chair to the stove to sit in to form the meatballs. I did ask Chris to come in and put a pot of water on the stove to boil for noodles, and later got out the carrots and another pot for me to cook them in. I rested while the meat and noodles cooked, then made the gravy. I can't make real gravy to save my life; thank goodness for mixes that are quick and easy. Just that simple thing hurt so much, though, that I camped out on the couch again and asked him to bring me some dinner and something to drink. I just couldn't do anymore. I was hurting so badly I couldn't walk. So, I didn't. I ended up falling asleep on the couch,and woke up just before midnight to go to bed. I could walk then, but my belly was SO sore. Once I was in bed, I couldn't move.
This morning, I was feeling much better. Thankfully. The more I thought about it, though, the more I thought I should call the nurse line just to make sure it was normal late-pregnancy pains. At this stage with Emma, I was at home all the time and not active at all, so I really couldn't compare. Also, that was twelve years ago! I can't remember what I felt like then. The nurse called me back, wrote down my symptoms, and checked with the doctor. Sure enough, I had to go in for a check. That is when I got the misbehaving line. Really, though, I have been VERY good lately and not doing anything I'm not supposed to do.
She did an internal exam, listened to Sophie's heartbeat, and measured whatever it is she measures. She asked me lots of questions about what I was feeling last night and what I had been doing leading up to that. It turns out I was having contractions! The real ones, too, not the fake Braxton Hicks whatevers that I don't think I've ever felt.
I was not expecting that at all.
Really, I was expecting a "You're fine, this is normal, go back to work and quit worrying" answer. Instead, I got detailed instructions on what to do if it happens again, when to call immediately, and what will be done to prevent early labour if it DOES happen again. The good news is everything inside is as it should be - closed up tight.
That was a big relief, since Sophie isn't done cooking yet! She still has quite a few more weeks to go!
I now also have doctor's orders to take it easier.... I thought I had been doing so well, but I have to do more. Or less, rather.... if I'm tired or achy at the end of the day, I'm to have Chris and Emma do the cooking and cleaning up. I have to cut back on other things, too. This is going to be a real challenge for me, I know.
But, I'll do it! I'll have to, to keep her in there as long as possible.
It's not a good sign when your doctor walks into the room and the first thing out of her mouth is "Have you been misbehaving again?" Although this time, I promise I was not doing anything I shouldn't be doing. Honestly!
I called the office this morning because all this week I'd been having pains where I shouldn't be having pain. In short, my girlie parts were hurting like crazy! It felt like this baby was about to fall out. Last night was the worst. I had no energy whatsoever, and every part of me from my belly to my feet hurt like crazy. My back and hips were killing me, and the pressure "down there" was horrendous! I tried making dinner, and had to bring a dining chair to the stove to sit in to form the meatballs. I did ask Chris to come in and put a pot of water on the stove to boil for noodles, and later got out the carrots and another pot for me to cook them in. I rested while the meat and noodles cooked, then made the gravy. I can't make real gravy to save my life; thank goodness for mixes that are quick and easy. Just that simple thing hurt so much, though, that I camped out on the couch again and asked him to bring me some dinner and something to drink. I just couldn't do anymore. I was hurting so badly I couldn't walk. So, I didn't. I ended up falling asleep on the couch,and woke up just before midnight to go to bed. I could walk then, but my belly was SO sore. Once I was in bed, I couldn't move.
This morning, I was feeling much better. Thankfully. The more I thought about it, though, the more I thought I should call the nurse line just to make sure it was normal late-pregnancy pains. At this stage with Emma, I was at home all the time and not active at all, so I really couldn't compare. Also, that was twelve years ago! I can't remember what I felt like then. The nurse called me back, wrote down my symptoms, and checked with the doctor. Sure enough, I had to go in for a check. That is when I got the misbehaving line. Really, though, I have been VERY good lately and not doing anything I'm not supposed to do.
She did an internal exam, listened to Sophie's heartbeat, and measured whatever it is she measures. She asked me lots of questions about what I was feeling last night and what I had been doing leading up to that. It turns out I was having contractions! The real ones, too, not the fake Braxton Hicks whatevers that I don't think I've ever felt.
I was not expecting that at all.
Really, I was expecting a "You're fine, this is normal, go back to work and quit worrying" answer. Instead, I got detailed instructions on what to do if it happens again, when to call immediately, and what will be done to prevent early labour if it DOES happen again. The good news is everything inside is as it should be - closed up tight.
That was a big relief, since Sophie isn't done cooking yet! She still has quite a few more weeks to go!
I now also have doctor's orders to take it easier.... I thought I had been doing so well, but I have to do more. Or less, rather.... if I'm tired or achy at the end of the day, I'm to have Chris and Emma do the cooking and cleaning up. I have to cut back on other things, too. This is going to be a real challenge for me, I know.
But, I'll do it! I'll have to, to keep her in there as long as possible.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
To tell the truth (a Santa story)
So it's that time of year again. The time when parents hide stashes of "stuff" and secret wrapping paper, fake handwriting on tags, eat cookies and drink milk in the middle of the night, after deciphering budding penmanship on sweet, "I've-been-so-good-angels-look-bad" letters.
Except I thought that part would be over by now.
Emma is 11, will turn 12 in just a few too-short months. A few years ago, she found where the Santa paper was hidden. (What she was doing wayyyyyyyyyy under the couch along the wall, I have no idea.) I was on the phone when she found it, and she was VERY upset. Luckily my call gave me a few extra minutes to think, and the best I came up with was "Santa must shop at Target also! And I bought that paper for Christmas and lost it!" I didn't think she bought it, but like the tooth fairy, she seemed to realize that if she admitted she knew the truth the extra gifts would stop.
Last year, many months after Christmas she and I were talking about her Nintendo DS. Does anyone else have trouble keeping up with which gifts were from you and which were from Santa?? I said something about finding it, or something along those lines that made it obvious we bought it, and she said "That one was from Santa, Mom." But again, she was fine; she seemed to understand the arrangement perfectly.
Then this year. Oh boy, this year...
It started at Thanksgiving dinner. We were with my parents, and they had invited a friend over. The conversation turned to my dad's siblings (ten in all) and I asked how many were born in September (four of them). The men joked about what Santa got for Christmas that year... my mom pointed out that I was a Christmas "present" also... and the Santa getting lucky jokes continued. I looked at Emma, who doesn't miss anything (unfortunately) and she wasn't phased a bit. I quickly changed the subject (this was my GRANDMA, people!) and everything was fine. She never brought it up.
Then on Sunday, we were getting our Christmas tree and decorations out of our storage building. Way back when Emma was four, Santa brought her the giant wooden Barbie house from the JC Penney catalog. It's 5 feet high, 4 feet wide, and three stories. Now that she is 11, it's been moved to storage also. I had to slide it out of the way to get to the Christmas decorations, and made the comment that it wasn't as sturdy as it was when we bought it. (Yeah, I know, bad mom...but it just slipped!) She called me out on it, and I told her that I actually said "when Santa brought it" not "when we bought it" although she wasn't convinced. But even as she was pouting, she was hiding laughter. Seemed like she was faking her upset, right?
That's what I thought. Last night my mom came to visit, and as she and Emma were at the dinner table working on homework I was cooking dinner. Emma was telling Mom about the dollhouse incident, and she was VERY upset still! I chalked it up to extra drama; she was tired and it was way past dinner time and she was starving. That combination just breeds crankiness and drama. The pouting continued all night, though, and when she went to bed she told Chris she said she didn't like being lied to.
Wow. I had assumed for the past couple years that she had figured out the whole Santa thing. She no longer corrected when people on TV talked about "the truth" and didn't react to adult conversations she overheard about Santa. I really thought she knew but was just keeping up appearances! I don't even remember how old I was when I figured it all out, but there was no issue or drama with it; it was just part of growing up. It never occurred to me she might feel betrayed or be upset by the whole thing!
So now what?
Except I thought that part would be over by now.
Emma is 11, will turn 12 in just a few too-short months. A few years ago, she found where the Santa paper was hidden. (What she was doing wayyyyyyyyyy under the couch along the wall, I have no idea.) I was on the phone when she found it, and she was VERY upset. Luckily my call gave me a few extra minutes to think, and the best I came up with was "Santa must shop at Target also! And I bought that paper for Christmas and lost it!" I didn't think she bought it, but like the tooth fairy, she seemed to realize that if she admitted she knew the truth the extra gifts would stop.
Last year, many months after Christmas she and I were talking about her Nintendo DS. Does anyone else have trouble keeping up with which gifts were from you and which were from Santa?? I said something about finding it, or something along those lines that made it obvious we bought it, and she said "That one was from Santa, Mom." But again, she was fine; she seemed to understand the arrangement perfectly.
Then this year. Oh boy, this year...
It started at Thanksgiving dinner. We were with my parents, and they had invited a friend over. The conversation turned to my dad's siblings (ten in all) and I asked how many were born in September (four of them). The men joked about what Santa got for Christmas that year... my mom pointed out that I was a Christmas "present" also... and the Santa getting lucky jokes continued. I looked at Emma, who doesn't miss anything (unfortunately) and she wasn't phased a bit. I quickly changed the subject (this was my GRANDMA, people!) and everything was fine. She never brought it up.
Then on Sunday, we were getting our Christmas tree and decorations out of our storage building. Way back when Emma was four, Santa brought her the giant wooden Barbie house from the JC Penney catalog. It's 5 feet high, 4 feet wide, and three stories. Now that she is 11, it's been moved to storage also. I had to slide it out of the way to get to the Christmas decorations, and made the comment that it wasn't as sturdy as it was when we bought it. (Yeah, I know, bad mom...but it just slipped!) She called me out on it, and I told her that I actually said "when Santa brought it" not "when we bought it" although she wasn't convinced. But even as she was pouting, she was hiding laughter. Seemed like she was faking her upset, right?
That's what I thought. Last night my mom came to visit, and as she and Emma were at the dinner table working on homework I was cooking dinner. Emma was telling Mom about the dollhouse incident, and she was VERY upset still! I chalked it up to extra drama; she was tired and it was way past dinner time and she was starving. That combination just breeds crankiness and drama. The pouting continued all night, though, and when she went to bed she told Chris she said she didn't like being lied to.
Wow. I had assumed for the past couple years that she had figured out the whole Santa thing. She no longer corrected when people on TV talked about "the truth" and didn't react to adult conversations she overheard about Santa. I really thought she knew but was just keeping up appearances! I don't even remember how old I was when I figured it all out, but there was no issue or drama with it; it was just part of growing up. It never occurred to me she might feel betrayed or be upset by the whole thing!
So now what?
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Learning lessons the hard way
I have a bit of a stubborn side. If you know me at all, this is not a surprise. So when I am told I can't do something, my first response is usually "Yes I can!"
Sometimes, though, like this weekend, it doesn't even occur to me that I shouldn't do something until long after it's already done. Something like.... oh let's just use moving furniture. Alone. Because I'd never move furniture by myself when I'm 24 weeks pregnant, right?
Yeah, we'll go with that.
I did have a nice day Saturday with Emma. My husband was out of town for the day, and early-ish that morning she came and crawled into bed with me and we had some nice cuddle and chat time. Then she informed me my baby was hungry (and was thrilled when I knew she was talking about herself and not her growing baby sister). We had breakfast, dressed, and went into town. The church sale we were going to help with was canceled, so we spent the next four hours going around town visiting all the stores we never have time to normally. We had lunch out (her restaurant choice) and eventually went home. We had ice cream and watched a movie. Then something so rare happened I wish I had a recorder then:
"Mom, I am tired of my room being messy. I'm going to clean it. Will you help me?"
Heck yes I'll help you! The previous weekend she got a new desk and bookcase, but there was still lots of work to be done. And we did it. We started around 7 pm and didn't stop until 11. We cleaned it all, even under her bed. During this time, we were trying to find a place to put her fold-up chair when she wasn't using it. Its former home now occupied her guitar, so we thought it would go nicely between the bookcase and dresser. Except it wouldn't quite fit. So I moved the dresser.
And her nightstand - twice. I had to move it to vacuum underneath it!
We finally wore ourselves out, and knew we had to stop or we'd never make it to church in the morning. She went to bed, and I went to fold and put away all the laundry I'd washed during the day.
A little after midnight my husband came home from his trip. Shortly after that, I had some bleeding. Not enough to be alarmed necessarily, but enough to concern me since it hasn't happened once with this pregnancy. My back and belly hurt, too. I figured I just overdid it a bit and decided to put myself on bed/couch rest for all of the next day.
No more bleeding, but I still was sore all day Sunday. And Monday, and Tuesday. At work, one of the case managers was concerned enough to convince me to call the doctor. I had decided not to call, since I already had an appointment for later this week. She was pretty worried, though, so I called the nurse line. The doctor wanted to see me right away.
Ok - now a little more concerned. He examined me, and luckily everything is fine with the baby. Heartbeat very strong, kicking like crazy (especially when she hears her big sister talking), and growing steadily. I, however, apparently pulled the muscles in my abdomen and ruptured a blood vessel where I didn't even know was possible. I am cleared for the Race for the Cure this weekend, but strictly no more heavy lifting!
Or moving furniture....
Sometimes, though, like this weekend, it doesn't even occur to me that I shouldn't do something until long after it's already done. Something like.... oh let's just use moving furniture. Alone. Because I'd never move furniture by myself when I'm 24 weeks pregnant, right?
Yeah, we'll go with that.
I did have a nice day Saturday with Emma. My husband was out of town for the day, and early-ish that morning she came and crawled into bed with me and we had some nice cuddle and chat time. Then she informed me my baby was hungry (and was thrilled when I knew she was talking about herself and not her growing baby sister). We had breakfast, dressed, and went into town. The church sale we were going to help with was canceled, so we spent the next four hours going around town visiting all the stores we never have time to normally. We had lunch out (her restaurant choice) and eventually went home. We had ice cream and watched a movie. Then something so rare happened I wish I had a recorder then:
"Mom, I am tired of my room being messy. I'm going to clean it. Will you help me?"
Heck yes I'll help you! The previous weekend she got a new desk and bookcase, but there was still lots of work to be done. And we did it. We started around 7 pm and didn't stop until 11. We cleaned it all, even under her bed. During this time, we were trying to find a place to put her fold-up chair when she wasn't using it. Its former home now occupied her guitar, so we thought it would go nicely between the bookcase and dresser. Except it wouldn't quite fit. So I moved the dresser.
And her nightstand - twice. I had to move it to vacuum underneath it!
We finally wore ourselves out, and knew we had to stop or we'd never make it to church in the morning. She went to bed, and I went to fold and put away all the laundry I'd washed during the day.
A little after midnight my husband came home from his trip. Shortly after that, I had some bleeding. Not enough to be alarmed necessarily, but enough to concern me since it hasn't happened once with this pregnancy. My back and belly hurt, too. I figured I just overdid it a bit and decided to put myself on bed/couch rest for all of the next day.
No more bleeding, but I still was sore all day Sunday. And Monday, and Tuesday. At work, one of the case managers was concerned enough to convince me to call the doctor. I had decided not to call, since I already had an appointment for later this week. She was pretty worried, though, so I called the nurse line. The doctor wanted to see me right away.
Ok - now a little more concerned. He examined me, and luckily everything is fine with the baby. Heartbeat very strong, kicking like crazy (especially when she hears her big sister talking), and growing steadily. I, however, apparently pulled the muscles in my abdomen and ruptured a blood vessel where I didn't even know was possible. I am cleared for the Race for the Cure this weekend, but strictly no more heavy lifting!
Or moving furniture....
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