Saturday, November 28, 2009
and think people care
webs and wanes and all but disappears
until a moment, many weeks earlier, the storyteller in my mind arises again.
The journals start. The notes on scrap pieces of paper and old receipts. Names of characters I already know but need to layer and personalize.
The places I've been, have not been too far away
But I do have a huge imagination, been known to exaggerate and have been told I'm funny.
So now all I need is my muse, my passion, my reason....
And then I think I can start this book I've yearned to write for years and years and years.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Last week I took you on your first of many trips to Tulsa. You were 7 weeks old. I was so nervous to fly with you! Mainly scared you would be in pain on the flights due to the air pressure and I wouldn't be able to comfort you. Instead you blessed me with a long nap from Raleigh to Denver. I got to see the Rocky Mountains for the first time ever and they weren't anything in comparison to you.
We rolled around in Denver airport and strangers stopped me to ask how old you were, how did you do on the flight and to tell me how cute you were. You always have your own little fan club wherever we go.
We finally got to Tulsa and your Nana and Grampers picked us up. Again, you were still a trooper, letting us transport you from stroller to car seat and back in the car. We had to stop and get Taco Bueno on the way home for Mommy, of course.
Nana and Aunt Nutmeg fed you a bottle and then we went ahead and put you to bed. You went right to sleep, only waking once in the night for a feeding and then fell right back asleep.
On your travels you got to meet The Amazing Davis, Cousin Lisser, Cousin Dave and the Mini Aunt. We spent a whole day playing with you and comforting you as you had quite a tummy ache.
You also got to meet, Pop and Mrs. Pop and your other step-brothers and sisters on my Dad's side. They loved you!
Tammy and her husband got to see you as well. Tammy getting in some good practice for when her and Shawn start a family one day..
While we were in Tulsa you had your own little bedroom at Nana's. You slept all by yourself in a pack and play. You slept the whole night through for the first time at Nana and Grampers, sleeping from 9pm to 6:30 am. This was repeated a couple of nights then we started waking up again around 4am for a feeding. No big deal. You always go right back to sleep.
Nana spoiled you lots and gave me a break by waking up a few times for the 4am feeding when I didn't hear your cries (note to self, bring baby monitor next time!).
Everyone comments on how alert you are and “what a good baby” you are. It's true. You're a very good natured child. And you're huge. 13 lbs now. Doubled your birth rate already!
You're very loved. Here, there, everywhere.
My little boy you'll always be!
Thursday, November 19, 2009
I didn't make a big deal out of it or even tell a lot of people for a couple of reasons: 1.) Per the pediatrician, the less people I expose Hank to the less chance he has of getting a flu so he suggested limiting the amount of visits to family. Common advice that makes sense to me, so that's what we're doing. And I hate that I'm disapointing some people but I know it'll be okay and they'll just have to understand. Not that anyone has given me a hard time at all, everyone is supportive. 2.) I really wanted to just be around the house and decompress. I'm really struggling with anxiety and depression right now and want to take advantage to being in an environment where I can relax and not worry about the dishes, the laundry, the 8 tons of leaves in the front yard, etc. So - I am.
Part of the reason I came here was that Alan was (and is) gone to Germany for a week. At first I thought I could handle being alone for a week with Sir Henry but as the weeks went by and he was working later and later I felt less capable and began to feel very overwhelmed taking care of an infant 24/7 with no company. It's very lonely and anyone knows that it's HARD.
So, I'm very lucky that I had the chance to come out here. A lot of parents don't get the help they need and ohhh lord did I need some help. For the first time in my life I'm not afraid to ask for it, either. You know why? Because it's not all about me anymore. I have another human being depending on me and I love and care for him more than anything else in this world and I need to be there for him.
Sir Henry was an expert traveler! He did wonderful. We had to fly from Raleigh to Denver and I was sweatin' because that's a four hour flight. He only fussed a couple of times and was easily pacified by his pacifier or a feeding. We also had a 3 hour layover in Denver and we did fine. I walked miles around the airport keeping him entertained and happy. People were so nice and helpful and Kat was right. Getting through security was the hardest part and even that was not so bad. We're coming back for Christmas so this was a good practice run.
Let me tell you - Denver's airport SUCKS. I am a Die.t Co.Ke fiend right now and they only carry Pepsi products. I was jonesing for a Die.t Co.Ke in the worst way...and had to settle for a Diet Pe.psi. Not the same. At all. Boo-hoo
Sir Henry and I are enjoying being spoiled. When his Nana (grandma) gets home from work she likes to take over and I totally let her. I'm really easy going with him. You want to hold/feed/bath/cuddle him, go right ahead! Spread the love.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
On Monday, September 28th, 2009 I was asked to come to the hospital to begin a medicine called Cervidil to ripen my cervix for labor. I was ten days past my due date. After waiting anxiously all day we were finally told we could come to the hospital. It was 9:00 pm, 100% humidity and raining. I started off driving us but had to stop to go to the bathroom halfway on the way to the hospital. On top of being pregnant I pee when I am nervous. Alan drove the rest of the way to the hospital because I was too nervous driving in the dark and rain with my glasses on.
When we got to the hospital we were taken to our labor and delivery room and I was instructed to give a urine sample and then change into a hospital gown. Easy enough. Then the fun started. IV placement! I do pretty well with needles and pain so I wasn't nervous. The nurse was pretty good and the IV was in my arm within 10 minutes. They hooked me up whatever it is they use to hydrate you. Doctor 'A' came in and put the Cervidil in place and told me we'd start on Pitocin tomorrow morning around 9 am and to get a good night of sleep. The nurse asked me if I wanted something to help me sleep and I said yes and an Ambien was given to me.
We finished watching the Panther/Dallas game and then fell asleep. They brought a cot in for Alan to sleep in. The room was FREEZING!! Neither one of us slept well but then again, neither one of us expected to.
Let me just say right now that my labor and delivery room was a miserable, dimly lit, closet of a room and I hated it. It felt sick and wrong and the bed sucked.
The next morning around 9am they hooked me up to the contraction inducing drug, Pitocin. The nurse said they'd be in every half hour or so to increase the amount flowing into my IV. She also said that most women are in active labor 4 hours into the treatment. Alan was so excited and even clapped his hands saying, “Alright! Let's get this show on the road!” I was very excited at this point as well, not knowing what I was in for..
Around noon I started feeling little contractions. No big deal.
By 2pm the contractions were a bit more intense and long. That was about the time my Mom and Brother in Law arrived with lunch, tormenting me with their Cook Out smelling clothes and hair. They were kind enough to eat downstairs because at this point in my hungry state I probably would have jumped out of my bed, IV's and all and mauled them for a corn dog. I was starving, having not eaten since 6pm the previous day.
Labor is kind of boring and SLOW. I have never watched the clock more in my life. In fact I think it's fair to say that September 29th 2009 was one of the longest days I have ever experienced.
3pm – they came in and broke my water. Dilated to a '3'.
By 4pm I was in definite intense pain and I had asked for my first dose of pain relieving drugs, something to take the edge off. They gave me Stadol. I then had slurred conversations with my Mom and B.I.L. Stoned watching Tom and Jerry on the TV.
At some point I get an epidural. I cannot even remember the time or sequence of events because like I said, time stood still that day while in labor. I do remember it not being that bad just that it was a serious event that required a lot of concentration on not moving or jumping and that it took a lot longer to do than I thought it would. Like 20 minutes from start to finish. I guess I thought it would be like getting a shot.
All is not well. Because of the stress of being in labor and not progressing correctly my blood pressure sky rocketed. I wasn't dilating. Henry was starting to show signs of stress with his heart beat. Still only dilated to a 3. My pelvis is small. Everyone thinks that an ample hipped woman will just have babies fall out of her. Not so. It's all about the pelvis, apparently. Doctor talks to me about the possibility of a C-section. He gives me a while to process...
Nurses keep coming in my room to help me roll side to side. They check my blood pressure like 80 thousand times. I am getting majorly annoyed and tired of this whole event. I'm done. I'm out. I'm officially shutting down emotionally.
I tell Alan I don't want to do this anymore and that I can't. I can't have a C-section, it isn't what I wanted, I'm scared shitless and I don't want to do it. I beg him to take me home. When that doesn't work I kick him out of the room and cry to my Momma about it.
Yes, I know I'm a baby...and I was very, very scared at the prospect of being cut up. Remember, I'm a control freak and the thought of having a cesarean had never ever crossed my mind my entire pregnancy. I was not prepared for this! Do-over!!
I cried hysterically for quite a while, apologizing to nurses and the doctor over and over again as they entered my room one after the other.
They started getting me ready for surgery. The anesthesiologist comes in to give me the scoop on the meds they'll be giving me and asks me about any allergies or reactions I've had to medicines. I remember her telling me that when they numb me I'll feel like I have an elephant sitting on my chest and that I'll be breathing fine, it will just be a sensation. Great. So now on top of being freaked out about being cut open I'm now freaked out about not being able to breathe.
I cry some more. I'm exhausted and very volatile. This whole event is going wrong in my mind and I'm having to accept an ending that I didn't already anticipate. I'm learning a hard lesson in life at a vulnerable moment.
I kiss my Mom goodbye and Alan goodbye and they roll me off to the operating room. I close my eyes and don't open them until an hour later when they're telling me to open them up and look at my little boy. I was scared to look or see anything.
When I got to the operating room it was a scramble of people, all women, except for my doctor. Everyone was hustling and bustling, things were being put on me, strapped on me, pumped into my IV, people talking to me....it was confusing.
I am just trying to concentrate on breathing. I'm laying flat on my back and my nose holes have completely shut. As in swollen shut. Nice. I remember feeling sorry for the nurses or whoever standing by because I'm sure my breath smells horrible and I'm breathing heavy on all of them. I apologize and they laugh.
They start putting more medicine in my IV and doing “can you feel this?” checks on my abdomen. When I get all nice and numb they start cutting. I can feel pressure and my eyes squint further shut as if I can block it all out, the noises, the chaos, by closing my eyes. My idiot of a doctor is humming along cheerfully to the music on the radio which is irritating me very much but at least I have something else to concentrate on.
I'm jerked awake by pain and I am panicking. “I can feel that!”, a burning deep inside towards my back. It's nothing severe but it freaks me out because I don't know what they're doing and if I should expect more pain. They tell me a little pain is normal but if it gets to be too much to let them know again.
I feel enormous pressure and yanking and then a high, shrill cry. I think I say, “that's my baby?!? I can hear him!” and I still have not opened my eyes. I know they're taking him over to suction his mouth and do all his vitals. They're telling me he's healthy and his cry tells me that, too. Good Lord it's high and clear!
Queen's “Best Friend” is playing on the radio. I remember thinking what a nice song to remember the birth of my son by.
Then I hear my husband tell me to open my eyes and I do. There he is! He looks nothing like I thought he would. He looks like my brother and he's tiny! All through my pregnancy and labor they've told me to expect a big baby. He's 6Lbs, 13 ozs and 21 inches. He's perfect though and handsome. It's all surreal. I have no idea the magnitude of what has happened, that I just brought another human being into the world....I just can't think about it.
They're still working on me and Alan has to go...they need to bathe Henry and do the rest of the routine. I'm starting to relax knowing that it's almost all over.
When they leave they put something in my IV to make me “more comfortable”. I'm told it's a morphine derivative and suddenly I feel very warm, fuzzy and content.
They wheel me off to recovery where I'm in for tons of poking, prodding, more medicine, questions and a blur of compassionate nurses.
4 days later and lots of yummy hospital food later (seriously, it was yummy, not being sarcastic at all) we go home. And thus, the adventures of Sir Henry begin.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Today you are 6 weeks old.
6 freakin' weeks! I can't believe it. You're so precious to me and even on our rough days you bring such a joy and pride to my heart sometimes I swear it will burst.
You have several new cries. We've identified your other cries: the demanding feed me now or I will blow your ear drums out cry, the I have a gas bubble and need to toot/burp hybrid whine cry, the I'm tired and I can't figure out how to calm down to sleep cry and the I have a ditty-diapah please clean me up NOW cry. You really do have your own language!
We discovered the lost art of swaddling which works wonders on you. Thank you “The Happiest Baby on the Block”.
Your Daddy insists that I call your night gowns sleep shirts because boys don't wear gowns. Whatever. He doesn't know I change your outfit multiple times a day and sometimes even put styling gel in your hair. I do what I want. I'm a boss.
I am in love with your little face. You have such delicate features, everyone says you look like a little man already. You poor little thing, you have my thin lips, which are ADORABLE on you. Also, don't worry about it because seriously, after I had braces, they popped out and I had lips.
Also, on that note, I very much hope you do not inherit my vain gene and that you are humble and relaxed like your father. I will admit that you were outfit coordinated with your car seat today as we went to Target and Kroger. You also do very well in a shopping cart and usually sleep through our shopping outings (a possible sign you will be like Alan and hate shopping? Hmm?).
Your personality blooms every day. We play a game called “Kiss the Baby!” where I say “kiss the baby!” in a silly voice then kiss your face all over. It really gets you excited, smiling and cooing. You still love to chill out in on your changing table and boppy. That's where IT'S.AT.
We love you so much and are proud of your little milestones like last night when you slept 7 hours straight, when you discovered your hands and suck on your fingers and when you take interest in a toy.
I'm so glad you are here and the unique and sometimes challenging ways you have changed our life. It's a welcome change.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
I really hate the movies Braveheart, Gladiator, Dances With Wolves and Titanic. Why? Because they are played so much on TV and for some reason my husband always has to watch them even though we've seen them a million times. I hate re-watching movies.
I've kind of been stuck in the house since Wednesday. Technically I could go anywhere I want but there's not much you can do with a 5 week old when you're completely neurotic about the flu(s). Kroger and Target have been the only two places I've ventured out to and every time I hear someone cough I look around to see who it was and if they look sick. Isn't that horrible?!?
Sir Henry grew out of his first newborn sized outfit this week much to my surprise. It was kind of a sad moment for me! He's also discovered his hands and has spent the last couple of days sucking on his hand and fingers. It's really fascinating to see him realize that the hand he's chewing on is his. He also has a new, high pitched cry and whimper thing he does an it totally breaks my heart when I hear it. The cry means he needs to burp or toot and he's letting me know I need to pick him up and pat his back. Seriously! Amazing.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
This is what a Mother of a 5 week old looks like with an impacted wisdom tooth, an insanely amount of pending dental work and is fighting off a cold or sinus infection and seriously (TMI alert) over productive breasts. I'm not trying to get sympathy, just wanting to remember this day so that when I have another hard time I can look back on these few days and remind myself that it's not that bad.
Oh yes yes yes, I know it could be so much worse, blah blah blah. Standard disclaimer I feel like I should issue because I'm constantly seeking others approval and hope not to offend or irritate anyone.
But this is what I get to love on and snuggle with all day, every day. And it's so worth it.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
It was Adam's birthday party and we were all celebrating at his posh apartment in Cary. I debuted a new Bettie Page look that night that I'm temped to go back to as it was sultry and sexy. But it does require a lot of dye and I'm just now back to my normal color after years of messing around.
Anyway, we were hanging out, drinking, playing quarters, asshole, getting drunk. And it was awesome. Miss those days.
Monday, November 2, 2009
My neighbors are so predictable with their anal lawn maintenance. I have no idea why I am so obsessed with them and their obsessiveness with their lawn and why it irritates, fascinates and borderline angers me. Perhaps it's my own inadequacy in the frequency of our OWN lawn maintenance which is seriously lacking any sort of motivation or desire to um...maintain.
But I digress.
I am serious when I tell you that on Halloween they taped off their lawn with yellow, almost crime scene, tape and placed notes on it that said “do not walk on grass”. Redic! I hope they got egged. My jaw dropped when I saw it. I thought a crime had been committed. I would have taken a picture and posted but I'm afraid of getting in trouble...like what if I accidentally published their address?
Sure as Sunday (or Wednesday) every Monday night they are out there raking and blowing leaves out of their treeless lawn. It really makes me want to blow all the leaves from our 5 oak tree leave littered lawn into theirs just to drive them nuts.
I also should note that our neighborhood has mainly houses built in the early 70' to late 80's and there is no HOA. It's not a fancy schmancy neighborhood by any means, not shabby or crime ridden either. It' not like Martha-fucking-Stewart lives next door.
I know I'm a total bitch for harboring such evil thoughts of these neighbors, I'm honestly not really sure what's wrong with me. Like I said, it must be a sincere feeling of inadequacy or deep rooted envy of their lawn for me to care so much.
Also, as I mentioned we have 5 oak trees in our front yard. The trees appear to have over 70% of their leaves left to fall and already our huge lawn is covered in inches of leaves. Alan and I will never, ever, ever make that mistake again. I think God was giggling at me the day we looked at the house 2 years ago and I said like a tree loving hippy, “Ohhhh, look at the BEEE-uuuu-tiful TREES! Oh my God I love them. Five! Five trees! So pretty” and I'm sure I had romantic notions of siting out there underneath the trees, picnicking.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Things I love now that I am older:
Baskets: Give me a basket to put in my house and I will find some sort of shit to put in that wicker beauty.
Red Wine: Un-doing the hard work of my bi-yearly Cre.st Whitestrips.
Cleaning products: Ahhh, the smell of Cl.orox bleach. Reminds me of swim team and clean houses.
Quiet bars: Not that I'm frequenting them lately, but I love being able to converse with my friends in an indoor voice rather than yelling at them over horrible pop music avoiding boys that wear too much hair gel and wear too tight shirts.
Was awesome. Henry had a little bear costume he wore but it was too hot so he wore his skull and crossbones onesie all night. Yes, it was hot. Like 90% humidity and 78 and soooo muggy.
We went to a PART-AY – with real adults in fun costumes and I had a few glasses of wine and it was wickedly delicious. Alan's awesome, he didn't drink at all so I could let loose. He knows how important Halloween is to me.
Pictures posted later.
My dear sweet son is losing his spiky hair that I put in a baby mohawk every day. It's chick-fluffiness is getting sparser and sparser. Ah, well. I've heard it grows back and I always have liked bald men....