Posts
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
maybe i need more chocolate
My patience is seriously lacking these days. I hate to admit it, but I find it terribly hard to deal with a toddler while pregnant. Some days things are fabulous- Gabe is easy and sweet and compliant, and then other days, like today, I want to lock myself in the bathroom and scream.
We walked to the park that is over a mile away because it's his favorite, which was probably a HUGE mistake because I almost melted from the heat and humidity. On the way, we stopped at one of my favorite coffee shops. They have multiple little bead maze toys at the coffee shop, so I unstrapped Gabe to let him play while I ordered. Big mistake. Within 30 seconds, he was running around the cafe like a madman and ignoring the bead mazes completely. In the meantime, 3 other children who were around the same age sat around quietly with their mothers/caregivers and played nicely at the tables. I sat at the table to get him to calm down and in his haste to get away, he knocked over my full iced coffee onto me and all over the floor and then took off across the coffee shop again.
It took all my mental fortitude to keep it together as I'm chasing him around and then getting down on my hands and knees and wiping up the coffee. It didn't help that the workers at the coffee shop were totally unsympathetic and pretty unfriendly to me when I told them about the coffee spillage.
We left shortly thereafter and headed over to the playground, where we played nicely for 20 minutes before slipping off of a rocker and getting a bloody lip. Back to the house we went, kicking myself for not thinking through this heat and humidity thing. We arrived and I got distracted answering an email for a minute or so, until I heard water running in the kitchen. Gabe had dragged a chair over to the kitchen sink, turned on the water, taken the sprayer and SPRAYED THE WHOLE KITCHEN DOWN. We're talking some serious flooding. And I felt that I couldn't even get that mad, because I'm the one that wasn't supervising him in the first place! It was so much water, I had to run to the basement and grab all our beach towels to mop up the mess, and I'm still finding piles of hidden water everywhere. Inside drawers, under the sink, under the stove.
It's moments like these that make it so hard for me to hold it together. Before being pregnant, I would laugh it off in most circumstances, but these days, I either get furiously angry or break down in tears. I've never wanted to spank Gabe before, but these days I find myself wanting to give him a smack on the hand or a swat on the behind. I find myself yelling more too, and this just isn't the environment I want him to be in. I certainly think there is a time and place for me to raise my voice, but lately it is happening more and more often.
I hate myself for being this tired, this impatient, this frustrated, but it isn't something I'm doing intentionally. I'm doing my best to hold it together, and there are just days when it feels almost impossible.
Tell me this is a typical pregnancy thing. Tell me it's going to get better once this baby comes. Or at least will I learn to cope with the frustration?
****************************
In other happier news, today marks 6 years from the date Josh and I walked down the aisle together. I'd do it again in an instant. He is my best friend, my confidante, my sanity keeper, and everything else in between. On the one hand, we cannot possibly have been married for 6 years already, and on the other hand, it feels like we've always been together.
I am so unbelievably, impossibly, shockingly lucky to call him my husband. I don't know what I did to deserve him.
We walked to the park that is over a mile away because it's his favorite, which was probably a HUGE mistake because I almost melted from the heat and humidity. On the way, we stopped at one of my favorite coffee shops. They have multiple little bead maze toys at the coffee shop, so I unstrapped Gabe to let him play while I ordered. Big mistake. Within 30 seconds, he was running around the cafe like a madman and ignoring the bead mazes completely. In the meantime, 3 other children who were around the same age sat around quietly with their mothers/caregivers and played nicely at the tables. I sat at the table to get him to calm down and in his haste to get away, he knocked over my full iced coffee onto me and all over the floor and then took off across the coffee shop again.
It took all my mental fortitude to keep it together as I'm chasing him around and then getting down on my hands and knees and wiping up the coffee. It didn't help that the workers at the coffee shop were totally unsympathetic and pretty unfriendly to me when I told them about the coffee spillage.
We left shortly thereafter and headed over to the playground, where we played nicely for 20 minutes before slipping off of a rocker and getting a bloody lip. Back to the house we went, kicking myself for not thinking through this heat and humidity thing. We arrived and I got distracted answering an email for a minute or so, until I heard water running in the kitchen. Gabe had dragged a chair over to the kitchen sink, turned on the water, taken the sprayer and SPRAYED THE WHOLE KITCHEN DOWN. We're talking some serious flooding. And I felt that I couldn't even get that mad, because I'm the one that wasn't supervising him in the first place! It was so much water, I had to run to the basement and grab all our beach towels to mop up the mess, and I'm still finding piles of hidden water everywhere. Inside drawers, under the sink, under the stove.
It's moments like these that make it so hard for me to hold it together. Before being pregnant, I would laugh it off in most circumstances, but these days, I either get furiously angry or break down in tears. I've never wanted to spank Gabe before, but these days I find myself wanting to give him a smack on the hand or a swat on the behind. I find myself yelling more too, and this just isn't the environment I want him to be in. I certainly think there is a time and place for me to raise my voice, but lately it is happening more and more often.
I hate myself for being this tired, this impatient, this frustrated, but it isn't something I'm doing intentionally. I'm doing my best to hold it together, and there are just days when it feels almost impossible.
Tell me this is a typical pregnancy thing. Tell me it's going to get better once this baby comes. Or at least will I learn to cope with the frustration?
****************************
In other happier news, today marks 6 years from the date Josh and I walked down the aisle together. I'd do it again in an instant. He is my best friend, my confidante, my sanity keeper, and everything else in between. On the one hand, we cannot possibly have been married for 6 years already, and on the other hand, it feels like we've always been together.
I am so unbelievably, impossibly, shockingly lucky to call him my husband. I don't know what I did to deserve him.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
in the slow lane
The placenta hasn't moved.
Our ultrasound was yesterday, and I'm undeniably upset. The good news is that it is no longer a complete previa, but the placenta is still covering part of the cervix and I've been put on pelvic rest until the next ultrasound (September 23rd). A high risk doctor did the actual ultrasound, and he was pretty positive about our chances for movement before delivery, so I'm trying to stay positive too. I'm avoiding all thoughts of what might happen if it hasn't moved by September 23rd, because those are the kinds of thoughts that might push me over the edge of anxiety (bed rest, bleeding, surgery).
We did get a chuckle out of the appointment, though, when I probed further about the definition of pelvic rest.
OB: No sex.
HL: But what exactly does that mean?
OB: No intercourse.
HL: So no orgasms?
OB: Oh no, orgasms are fine.
HL: Ohhhh, thank God. That's fine then.
(Big laugh from the room)
High Risk OB: I guess he'll just have to work a little harder, then.
(More laughter)
OB: All we're saying is please don't put objects in your vagina. Everything else is fine.
HL: Oh great, that's not a big deal at all. (visible relief)
(Josh tries to sink into the floor from mortification)
We had a full ultrasound look at the baby, who is still appearing adorable and healthy and perfect. We got some 3-D pictures of the little cutie smooshing itself up against my placenta with one little hand against its nose and the other hand caressing the umbilical cord. It was so strange to watch it play with the umbilical cord and see it wrapped all around the baby. It makes me a little nervous, but the high risk OB said that the cord is unbelievably slippery, which is why cord accidents are so rare.
We still didn't find out the sex, although I was burning holes into the screen trying to catch a peek of private parts. I can't say anything for sure, although I never glimpsed a penis even though we had several viewings. I'm soooo tempted to find out, but I know that if I actually do find out I'll be disappointed that I didn't hold out until the delivery. Especially if this placenta situation doesn't resolve itself, I think the not knowing will help me through the third trimester. I have a whole other post ruminating on the topic, so I'll save this for another day.
In the meantime, we're shooting the baby more positive vibes and asking him or her to try pushing the placenta a little. We only need a 2 cm clearance away from the cervix, which seems so small. So doable. If only my uterus will move that sucker out of the way. I'm also going to be calling some acupuncturists and see if anyone makes any positive claims about being able to move placentas. Let's hope so!
Our ultrasound was yesterday, and I'm undeniably upset. The good news is that it is no longer a complete previa, but the placenta is still covering part of the cervix and I've been put on pelvic rest until the next ultrasound (September 23rd). A high risk doctor did the actual ultrasound, and he was pretty positive about our chances for movement before delivery, so I'm trying to stay positive too. I'm avoiding all thoughts of what might happen if it hasn't moved by September 23rd, because those are the kinds of thoughts that might push me over the edge of anxiety (bed rest, bleeding, surgery).
We did get a chuckle out of the appointment, though, when I probed further about the definition of pelvic rest.
OB: No sex.
HL: But what exactly does that mean?
OB: No intercourse.
HL: So no orgasms?
OB: Oh no, orgasms are fine.
HL: Ohhhh, thank God. That's fine then.
(Big laugh from the room)
High Risk OB: I guess he'll just have to work a little harder, then.
(More laughter)
OB: All we're saying is please don't put objects in your vagina. Everything else is fine.
HL: Oh great, that's not a big deal at all. (visible relief)
(Josh tries to sink into the floor from mortification)
We had a full ultrasound look at the baby, who is still appearing adorable and healthy and perfect. We got some 3-D pictures of the little cutie smooshing itself up against my placenta with one little hand against its nose and the other hand caressing the umbilical cord. It was so strange to watch it play with the umbilical cord and see it wrapped all around the baby. It makes me a little nervous, but the high risk OB said that the cord is unbelievably slippery, which is why cord accidents are so rare.
We still didn't find out the sex, although I was burning holes into the screen trying to catch a peek of private parts. I can't say anything for sure, although I never glimpsed a penis even though we had several viewings. I'm soooo tempted to find out, but I know that if I actually do find out I'll be disappointed that I didn't hold out until the delivery. Especially if this placenta situation doesn't resolve itself, I think the not knowing will help me through the third trimester. I have a whole other post ruminating on the topic, so I'll save this for another day.
In the meantime, we're shooting the baby more positive vibes and asking him or her to try pushing the placenta a little. We only need a 2 cm clearance away from the cervix, which seems so small. So doable. If only my uterus will move that sucker out of the way. I'm also going to be calling some acupuncturists and see if anyone makes any positive claims about being able to move placentas. Let's hope so!
Monday, August 11, 2008
toddlers are germy
Okay, okay, you all have convinced me to do it. I found myself obsessing over whether to do the toddler program or not, and after reading all of your posts, and confirming with the program's instructor that we could cancel if it didn't go well at all, I decided to do it. Since making the decision, I have felt a HUGE measure of relief. That tells me that my choice is probably the right one.
I'm still nervous about being away from him for a whopping 8 hours a week, but I'm also excited to see how he does with the program, and excited to have some time alone to do all the things I barely have time for these days. You'll laugh, but I'm so happy to have time to clean my house and do my laundry and keep things picked up and organized. All of those things have to get done at some point, but I constantly feel overwhelmed by the minimal amount of time I have to work on them. Imagining what it will be like to have 8 hours of uninterrupted time to do everything, plus nap times after that, feels luxurious. Plus, the thought of being able to take the dogs to the vet, or me to the OB, without packing 89 toys and snacks to keep Gabe entertained is awesome.
Now I'm just hoping he likes it.
The opportunity to do a different program only one day a week popped up over the weekend also, and I was tempted. I thought it would resolve my nervousness over Gabe being away for too many hours, but talking to my parents and Josh and my in-laws convinced me to stick with the two day a week program. It'll be more stable for Gabe, and everyone else insisted that I'd regret it terribly when I realized that one day a week was nothing.
So we're signed up and ready to go and I'm excited. Gabe won't actually be starting until September 22nd, because we're going to California to visit my parents for the first two weeks of the program. We're just working to survive between now and then, because Gabe is sick AGAIN. I broke down and took him to the pediatrician this afternoon because I simply cannot tolerate any more whining and crying and being up at night. What was the result? Another bout of Coxsackie (otherwise known as Hand, Foot and Mouth). For those of you keeping track, this is his 4th time with Coxsackie, the second actual Coxsackie infection in a month, the third overall illness in a month. I'm exhausted. Our sleep is a disaster, Gabe is falling apart, and both Josh and I are moping around the house with sore throats and congestion. We need some serious immune boosting around here!
At least the weather is rainy and gloomy too, so we're not missing out on too much!
I'm still nervous about being away from him for a whopping 8 hours a week, but I'm also excited to see how he does with the program, and excited to have some time alone to do all the things I barely have time for these days. You'll laugh, but I'm so happy to have time to clean my house and do my laundry and keep things picked up and organized. All of those things have to get done at some point, but I constantly feel overwhelmed by the minimal amount of time I have to work on them. Imagining what it will be like to have 8 hours of uninterrupted time to do everything, plus nap times after that, feels luxurious. Plus, the thought of being able to take the dogs to the vet, or me to the OB, without packing 89 toys and snacks to keep Gabe entertained is awesome.
Now I'm just hoping he likes it.
The opportunity to do a different program only one day a week popped up over the weekend also, and I was tempted. I thought it would resolve my nervousness over Gabe being away for too many hours, but talking to my parents and Josh and my in-laws convinced me to stick with the two day a week program. It'll be more stable for Gabe, and everyone else insisted that I'd regret it terribly when I realized that one day a week was nothing.
So we're signed up and ready to go and I'm excited. Gabe won't actually be starting until September 22nd, because we're going to California to visit my parents for the first two weeks of the program. We're just working to survive between now and then, because Gabe is sick AGAIN. I broke down and took him to the pediatrician this afternoon because I simply cannot tolerate any more whining and crying and being up at night. What was the result? Another bout of Coxsackie (otherwise known as Hand, Foot and Mouth). For those of you keeping track, this is his 4th time with Coxsackie, the second actual Coxsackie infection in a month, the third overall illness in a month. I'm exhausted. Our sleep is a disaster, Gabe is falling apart, and both Josh and I are moping around the house with sore throats and congestion. We need some serious immune boosting around here!
At least the weather is rainy and gloomy too, so we're not missing out on too much!
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
how early is too early?
I'm facing a truly heart-wrenching dilemma.
A neighbor emailed me yesterday to let me know that the toddler program her kids have all been enrolled in has an opening for an under 2 year old. The opening would be for Mondays and Wednesdays, from 9am to 1pm. Gabe would be one of six children, 2 others around his same age and 3 over the age of 2. The cost is pretty reasonable and would run from September to June.
The program is somewhat structured, with playtimes, snacktimes, reading and music time, lunchtime, and even weekly baking! We stopped by the woman's house today to see her space and have her meet Gabe, and she seemed friendly and sweet. She has three grown children and has been doing this for several years. My neighbor had nothing but good things to say about her program, and said that her kids all loved it. I also have a call in to another mother who is sending her fourth child there this fall, an eighteen month old.
At first glance, I jumped at the opportunity. A toddler program would mean 8 hours of free time for me. 8 hours to run errands, go to doctor's appointments, clean the house, do laundry, exercise, take a nap! Come December, 8 hours would mean time alone with the baby! 8 hours would mean socialization for Gabe, structure, stimulation, learning to listen to someone else's discipline, lots of fun. 8 hours would also mean time away from my sweet boy. It means that someone else will have influence on him besides me. It means that he could pick up "bad" toddler behaviors that I've been studiously avoiding thus far. It means that I have to let him go, just that little bit.
I've realized over the past couple of months, though, that I need to find a way to get a break sometimes too. Josh works a lot. He leaves around 6:30 every morning and doesn't get home most nights until 7:30 or 8pm. He often is able to play with Gabe for half an hour, and then holes himself up in his office until 10pm or later every night. He has been exceedingly stressed lately, and it is exhausting for me to be alone with Gabe all day, cook dinner alone, clean up alone, do laundry alone, do all of the upkeep for the house, plus all of the errands, and then deal with an occasionally cranky husband (and child, of course).
I'm unbelievably grateful to Josh for how hard he works, so I don't want this to sound like I'm complaining about him. I'm not. He's awesome. He bends over backwards to help during the weekends, but still, it's hard. I need a break sometimes too, and since we've never even hired a babysitter before (mostly my fault due to nervousness on my part and not wanting to spend the money unnecessarily), the vast majority of the work falls on me.
So bottom line, I need to either get a babysitter or do a toddler program. I can't keep doing it all with minimal help, especially not with 002 on the way. Letting go is always hard, and although he is so big these days, he still seems like such a baby to me. I don't want him away from me for so many hours every week, but I acknowledge that he'll likely be fine and welcome the change of scenery. It's a hard decision to make, though. Any thoughts? Did anyone do a toddler program at 20 months? Is it too much? Am I being ridiculous?
A neighbor emailed me yesterday to let me know that the toddler program her kids have all been enrolled in has an opening for an under 2 year old. The opening would be for Mondays and Wednesdays, from 9am to 1pm. Gabe would be one of six children, 2 others around his same age and 3 over the age of 2. The cost is pretty reasonable and would run from September to June.
The program is somewhat structured, with playtimes, snacktimes, reading and music time, lunchtime, and even weekly baking! We stopped by the woman's house today to see her space and have her meet Gabe, and she seemed friendly and sweet. She has three grown children and has been doing this for several years. My neighbor had nothing but good things to say about her program, and said that her kids all loved it. I also have a call in to another mother who is sending her fourth child there this fall, an eighteen month old.
At first glance, I jumped at the opportunity. A toddler program would mean 8 hours of free time for me. 8 hours to run errands, go to doctor's appointments, clean the house, do laundry, exercise, take a nap! Come December, 8 hours would mean time alone with the baby! 8 hours would mean socialization for Gabe, structure, stimulation, learning to listen to someone else's discipline, lots of fun. 8 hours would also mean time away from my sweet boy. It means that someone else will have influence on him besides me. It means that he could pick up "bad" toddler behaviors that I've been studiously avoiding thus far. It means that I have to let him go, just that little bit.
I've realized over the past couple of months, though, that I need to find a way to get a break sometimes too. Josh works a lot. He leaves around 6:30 every morning and doesn't get home most nights until 7:30 or 8pm. He often is able to play with Gabe for half an hour, and then holes himself up in his office until 10pm or later every night. He has been exceedingly stressed lately, and it is exhausting for me to be alone with Gabe all day, cook dinner alone, clean up alone, do laundry alone, do all of the upkeep for the house, plus all of the errands, and then deal with an occasionally cranky husband (and child, of course).
I'm unbelievably grateful to Josh for how hard he works, so I don't want this to sound like I'm complaining about him. I'm not. He's awesome. He bends over backwards to help during the weekends, but still, it's hard. I need a break sometimes too, and since we've never even hired a babysitter before (mostly my fault due to nervousness on my part and not wanting to spend the money unnecessarily), the vast majority of the work falls on me.
So bottom line, I need to either get a babysitter or do a toddler program. I can't keep doing it all with minimal help, especially not with 002 on the way. Letting go is always hard, and although he is so big these days, he still seems like such a baby to me. I don't want him away from me for so many hours every week, but I acknowledge that he'll likely be fine and welcome the change of scenery. It's a hard decision to make, though. Any thoughts? Did anyone do a toddler program at 20 months? Is it too much? Am I being ridiculous?
Thursday, July 31, 2008
keeping me busy these days?
Did I mention that a certain someone learned how to climb out of his crib?
AT EIGHTEEN MONTHS?!?!?!
He just wedged himself into the corner of his crib, leaned over the side and lifted his leg over the edge. Then he gently lowered himself down to the floor. All we heard was a little "thump" and then "pitter, patter, pitter, patter" and he was at his bedroom door trying to get it open.
The pediatrician was at a loss for advice. He is definitely too young emotionally to be put into a toddler bed, but of course we're terrified that he is going to injure himself on one of his exits from the cage. So far, we've been lucky. We're padding the bedroom floor around the crib, and locking the upstairs gate every night, and then hoping for the best.
I'm devastated, of course. I was hoping to keep him contained until he was 3! Now I'm hunting around for a decent toddler bed, since the move is approaching quickly. Has anyone used a crib tent? Should I even bother? What about duct tape?
AT EIGHTEEN MONTHS?!?!?!
He just wedged himself into the corner of his crib, leaned over the side and lifted his leg over the edge. Then he gently lowered himself down to the floor. All we heard was a little "thump" and then "pitter, patter, pitter, patter" and he was at his bedroom door trying to get it open.
The pediatrician was at a loss for advice. He is definitely too young emotionally to be put into a toddler bed, but of course we're terrified that he is going to injure himself on one of his exits from the cage. So far, we've been lucky. We're padding the bedroom floor around the crib, and locking the upstairs gate every night, and then hoping for the best.
I'm devastated, of course. I was hoping to keep him contained until he was 3! Now I'm hunting around for a decent toddler bed, since the move is approaching quickly. Has anyone used a crib tent? Should I even bother? What about duct tape?
Monday, July 28, 2008
I take it back
What a birthday! It's been a difficult morning and afternoon.
Gabe woke up at 4am and screamed nonstop for the whole morning until we finally accepted the idea that he was up for the day. At FOUR IN THE MORNING. Then, we had some plumbing problems so I waited 2 hours for the plumber to show up. He never did, and when I called he told me he wouldn't make it there for another 2 hours. I told him that I had an appointment and met a friend at my favorite diner for brunch. Unfortunately, it was closed and we had to pick a second choice. Of course, by then, Gabe was a disaster of a human being. Whining and crying and being generally uncooperative and unhappy. Even scrambled eggs and pancakes and toy cars and stickers couldn't cheer him up. We struggled through breakfast and finally make it home for a nap.
Sadly, I'm sitting here with the plumber while he details for me all of the terrible things that are wrong with our pipes, including the accusation that the person who did the plumbing for the kitchen did it all wrong and we'll never be able to sell the house the way it has been completed.
Hence, no nap for me, even though my head is throbbing and my eyes are burning.
AND, my friend sent me this music video, and since then I've been all weepy and melancholy about the idea that my baby is growing up. How did this happen? Why does time go by so quickly? Is this really how it happens? You blink and your babies are grown. I can't even think about it, because it breaks my heart. I want Gabe to stay my baby forever and ever and ever. Don't even get me started on the one that I'm currently gestating... I don't even want this one to come out lest it start growing up too.
So going back to my post early today, I lied. Apparently I am having a mini breakdown over this whole turning 30 thing. Hopefully, the rest of the day becomes a little cheerier!
Gabe woke up at 4am and screamed nonstop for the whole morning until we finally accepted the idea that he was up for the day. At FOUR IN THE MORNING. Then, we had some plumbing problems so I waited 2 hours for the plumber to show up. He never did, and when I called he told me he wouldn't make it there for another 2 hours. I told him that I had an appointment and met a friend at my favorite diner for brunch. Unfortunately, it was closed and we had to pick a second choice. Of course, by then, Gabe was a disaster of a human being. Whining and crying and being generally uncooperative and unhappy. Even scrambled eggs and pancakes and toy cars and stickers couldn't cheer him up. We struggled through breakfast and finally make it home for a nap.
Sadly, I'm sitting here with the plumber while he details for me all of the terrible things that are wrong with our pipes, including the accusation that the person who did the plumbing for the kitchen did it all wrong and we'll never be able to sell the house the way it has been completed.
Hence, no nap for me, even though my head is throbbing and my eyes are burning.
AND, my friend sent me this music video, and since then I've been all weepy and melancholy about the idea that my baby is growing up. How did this happen? Why does time go by so quickly? Is this really how it happens? You blink and your babies are grown. I can't even think about it, because it breaks my heart. I want Gabe to stay my baby forever and ever and ever. Don't even get me started on the one that I'm currently gestating... I don't even want this one to come out lest it start growing up too.
So going back to my post early today, I lied. Apparently I am having a mini breakdown over this whole turning 30 thing. Hopefully, the rest of the day becomes a little cheerier!
the big fat 3-0
Today is my 30th birthday, and I have to say, I'm a bit underwhelmed. So far, I've been totally unbothered by this birthday. I did have a few hours last night where I kept reminding myself that these were my last few hours in my 20s. I'll never again be 20-something! I guess that should be more upsetting than it is, but I'm in a great place and happy to welcome in my 30th year!
Josh is wonderful as usual, Gabriel is awesome, and this cutie in the works is kicking away. It is a good day. We went on a road trip on Saturday, a date out on Sunday, a family dinner tonight, and next weekend a birthday party with friends and hopefully, a karaoke machine! It's been a good several days of celebration. I'm definitely a lucky, lucky girl.
Josh is wonderful as usual, Gabriel is awesome, and this cutie in the works is kicking away. It is a good day. We went on a road trip on Saturday, a date out on Sunday, a family dinner tonight, and next weekend a birthday party with friends and hopefully, a karaoke machine! It's been a good several days of celebration. I'm definitely a lucky, lucky girl.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
the good times keep rolling in
Ok, I'm feeling a little better about the whole placenta situation. There were a couple of days in there where I couldn't imagine making it until August 19th, at least not with my sanity intact. I spoke to another OB, though, and he made me feel better, and your comments DEFINITELY made me feel better. I am loving the statistics and stories you all have given me. The OB assured me that in his opinion, I have no more of a chance of losing my uterus than anyone else who has a fluke complication during childbirth. He said that my worst case scenario is having to worry about having bleeding episodes and then ending up with a c-section. As a worst case scenario, that isn't all that bad, I figure.
I'm a little more relaxed now, and I've stopped crying every time the subject comes up. I'm just going to think positive placenta moving thoughts, and maybe go for acupuncture or something and see if they know how to move placentas.
We have had some bad luck this week, though, besides the placenta news. On Friday night, as a distraction, my mom and I decided to go see Mamma Mia at a nearby movie theater. I borrowed Josh's "new to us" car for the 10 minute drive. It happened to be the first time I've borrowed his car. The drive over was fine, but as I pulled into the parking spot, the check engine light came on and smoke started pouring out of the car. At the same moment, I was engaged in a huge argument with my mom, so I didn't even notice for a few seconds that the smoke was coming from my car, and that a screaming noise was emanating from the car.
We pulled into the spot at 7pm, and by the time we were actually towed home, it was 1:30am. First, they sent the wrong kind of tow truck. Then we were advised to go buy coolant fluid before the tow truck came. Then we had to wait for a flat bed. It was exhausting. Plus, we're super annoyed that this car that we just received is already breaking down. I had it towed yesterday morning to the mechanic, and I'm just waiting for the terrible news.
To add insult to injury, my mom left on Saturday afternoon, and we drove immediately to the Berkshires to visit my in-laws. The visit was great, but on the drive home, Gabe was acting really listless and lethargic. We assumed he was just tired from his trip, but as I lifted him out of his car seat, I felt him burning up. We ended up awake all night fluctuating between a 102.5 and a 103.2 fever. He's seemed better since yesterday afternoon, but this illness combined with the Coxsackie from last week and all of this upheaval is killing me.
Bad things come in threes, supposedly, so I'm hoping we're done with bad luck since we're past three bad things. We're going on 6, at this point! Besides that, life is good, and my days are punctuated with teeny tiny little kicks coming from inside. The baby especially liked "Dancing Queen" during the movie. This baby obviously has flare for the dramatic already.
I'm a little more relaxed now, and I've stopped crying every time the subject comes up. I'm just going to think positive placenta moving thoughts, and maybe go for acupuncture or something and see if they know how to move placentas.
We have had some bad luck this week, though, besides the placenta news. On Friday night, as a distraction, my mom and I decided to go see Mamma Mia at a nearby movie theater. I borrowed Josh's "new to us" car for the 10 minute drive. It happened to be the first time I've borrowed his car. The drive over was fine, but as I pulled into the parking spot, the check engine light came on and smoke started pouring out of the car. At the same moment, I was engaged in a huge argument with my mom, so I didn't even notice for a few seconds that the smoke was coming from my car, and that a screaming noise was emanating from the car.
We pulled into the spot at 7pm, and by the time we were actually towed home, it was 1:30am. First, they sent the wrong kind of tow truck. Then we were advised to go buy coolant fluid before the tow truck came. Then we had to wait for a flat bed. It was exhausting. Plus, we're super annoyed that this car that we just received is already breaking down. I had it towed yesterday morning to the mechanic, and I'm just waiting for the terrible news.
To add insult to injury, my mom left on Saturday afternoon, and we drove immediately to the Berkshires to visit my in-laws. The visit was great, but on the drive home, Gabe was acting really listless and lethargic. We assumed he was just tired from his trip, but as I lifted him out of his car seat, I felt him burning up. We ended up awake all night fluctuating between a 102.5 and a 103.2 fever. He's seemed better since yesterday afternoon, but this illness combined with the Coxsackie from last week and all of this upheaval is killing me.
Bad things come in threes, supposedly, so I'm hoping we're done with bad luck since we're past three bad things. We're going on 6, at this point! Besides that, life is good, and my days are punctuated with teeny tiny little kicks coming from inside. The baby especially liked "Dancing Queen" during the movie. This baby obviously has flare for the dramatic already.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
placenta shmacenta
I always enjoy having the luxury to obsess over mundane things, rather than actual serious ones. Most of the time, I have that luxury, but sometimes something demanding of real attention pops up. Today, I had another OB appointment so that she could explain to me that as of this week's ultrasound, I have complete placenta previa. This means that my placenta is completely covering my cervix.
Apparently, there are various levels of placenta previa. Partial, marginal, low-lying, etc. Then, there's complete, where the placenta is lying perfectly over the entire cervix. Lucky me, guess which one I have.
She told me not to worry, right before she launched into a whole litany of what this entails. It increases my risk of severe bleeding, increases the risk of fetal death, increases the risk of blood transfusions, increases my risk of having to go on bed rest, and if it doesn't correct itself, we'd have to do a c-section right at 37 weeks.
The OB also said that she is confident the placenta will move. According to her, 85% of all early cases of placenta previa correct themselves, but this figure is based on all cases of placenta previa, not just the ones that are complete previa. So the fact that my placenta is completely covering my cervix might lower my chances of the placenta moving to a safer location.
I listened carefully to everything she had to say, nodded thoughtfully, and then raced to get more information from Dr. Google when I got home. Of course, Dr. Google had lots of scary things to say. Any type of bleeding would put me in the hospital, and if the bleeding couldn't be stopped, the baby would have to be delivered, regardless of fetal age. The bleeding can quickly go from nothing to majorly serious in a matter of minutes, especially if I start having contractions or dilation. Dr. Google also said that placenta previa can be a problem even after delivery, because while pitocin helps the uterus contract after a c-section and stops the bleeding from the removal of the placenta, the lower part of the uterus (where the placenta is when you have placenta previa) is not as good at contracting, so the bleeding is harder to stop. PLUS, one in ten cases of complete placenta previa also have placenta accreta, where the placenta improperly imbeds itself in the uterine wall, making it difficult to detach the placenta. This increases your risk of severe blood loss, and increases your risk of having to have a hysterectomy.
Right about there, I closed the computer and walked away.
I'm starting to believe this baby might really be trying to kill me. First, the surprise pregnancy out of the blue. Then, the crazy nausea, the migraines, the exhaustion. Now, this placenta previa and the scariness associated with it. There is a long time between now and December 19th for me to obsess about all of this.
My next ultrasound is on August 19th, and we're keeping all fingers and toes crossed that my placenta has started its gradual move. In the meantime, I'm not restricted from anything, and I'm welcoming all positive stories about placentas moving quickly and completely and then gloriously easy vaginal births. I'll also take positive placenta moving thoughts. Please.
Apparently, there are various levels of placenta previa. Partial, marginal, low-lying, etc. Then, there's complete, where the placenta is lying perfectly over the entire cervix. Lucky me, guess which one I have.
She told me not to worry, right before she launched into a whole litany of what this entails. It increases my risk of severe bleeding, increases the risk of fetal death, increases the risk of blood transfusions, increases my risk of having to go on bed rest, and if it doesn't correct itself, we'd have to do a c-section right at 37 weeks.
The OB also said that she is confident the placenta will move. According to her, 85% of all early cases of placenta previa correct themselves, but this figure is based on all cases of placenta previa, not just the ones that are complete previa. So the fact that my placenta is completely covering my cervix might lower my chances of the placenta moving to a safer location.
I listened carefully to everything she had to say, nodded thoughtfully, and then raced to get more information from Dr. Google when I got home. Of course, Dr. Google had lots of scary things to say. Any type of bleeding would put me in the hospital, and if the bleeding couldn't be stopped, the baby would have to be delivered, regardless of fetal age. The bleeding can quickly go from nothing to majorly serious in a matter of minutes, especially if I start having contractions or dilation. Dr. Google also said that placenta previa can be a problem even after delivery, because while pitocin helps the uterus contract after a c-section and stops the bleeding from the removal of the placenta, the lower part of the uterus (where the placenta is when you have placenta previa) is not as good at contracting, so the bleeding is harder to stop. PLUS, one in ten cases of complete placenta previa also have placenta accreta, where the placenta improperly imbeds itself in the uterine wall, making it difficult to detach the placenta. This increases your risk of severe blood loss, and increases your risk of having to have a hysterectomy.
Right about there, I closed the computer and walked away.
I'm starting to believe this baby might really be trying to kill me. First, the surprise pregnancy out of the blue. Then, the crazy nausea, the migraines, the exhaustion. Now, this placenta previa and the scariness associated with it. There is a long time between now and December 19th for me to obsess about all of this.
My next ultrasound is on August 19th, and we're keeping all fingers and toes crossed that my placenta has started its gradual move. In the meantime, I'm not restricted from anything, and I'm welcoming all positive stories about placentas moving quickly and completely and then gloriously easy vaginal births. I'll also take positive placenta moving thoughts. Please.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
maybe he's mad that we're back
We're back! We arrived tan (at least Gabe and I did, Josh was sunburned as usual), relaxed, happy, well fed and rested. At least, we were rested until Gabe stopped sleeping upon our return to Boston. It started with him refusing bedtime for half an hour, then it increased to an hour, and by last night we'd spent 5 nights in a row where he wouldn't go to sleep until after 10:30pm. It has been exhausting. He acts tired, but once we put him down to sleep, we're faced with hysterical tears, and he is just one of those kids who gets more and more tense when he's crying. It would take him hours before he collapses, and we're just not willing to make him cry for hours.
I end up sitting with him for a while as he begs to be taken downstairs. Once I reach my limit, Josh comes upstairs and sits with him some more. A couple of times I've even had to go back upstairs to relieve Josh because Gabe is so upset with the state of the world. It has been tough, really, really, tough. In the middle of all of this sleeping drama, as luck would have it, I had to leave Gabe overnight for the first time ever. I flew to Atlanta to host a bridal shower for one of my closest friends from law school, and those 36 hours while I was gone were apparently hell for Josh and my mom. Gabe refused to nap, refused to sleep at night, and my mom was up with him repeatedly on Friday night.
We assumed this was a case of mommy-itis, but my return brought no relief for anyone. So today, I called the pediatrician and begged for an appointment to see if there was a physical reason for all this sleep avoidance. It turns out, according to the blisters along the back of his throat, he has Coxsackie, otherwise known as Hand, Foot, and Mouth Virus. His sleep strike may have been initiated because his throat hurt whenever he'd try to sleep. I was pretty shocked because other than the sleep problems, we've had no other symptoms. No runny nose, no coughing, no crankiness during the daytime. He has some bumps on his feet, though, and now the telltale blisters in his throat, and she is pretty sure of the diagnosis. Poor little guy!
So I dosed him up with Tylenol tonight before bed to ease his discomfort, but regardless, we were up for close to an hour and a half trying to convince him to sleep. I finally put him down in his crib, told him firmly that it was time for "noni, noni" (our word for sleep), and shut the door. He whimpered pitifully for another 30 minutes, but finally pulled his blanket over himself and went to sleep. I almost collapsed with relief. I think I'm more exhausted than he is at this point. I also realize, of course, that all these beachy pictures don't make you feel my pain, but I promise you, it is bad. Very bad. I need sympathy. Ignore the relaxed looking pictures, we're dying over here.
Besides all this sleep drama, things around here are great. Our trip was very fun, although Aruban food was more expensive than anticipated. Our resort, besides being dirt cheap, had a great location, and our one bedroom suite was poolside, with a patio that opened directly onto a kiddie pool and pool bar and grill. The resort was across the street from the beach, so we would alternate between pool and bar, depending on how strong the sun was and how lazy Josh and I were feeling. The highlight of the whole trip, of course, were the resort's golf carts. I had to physically restrain Gabe every time we walked close to one.
My nausea seems to be decreasing slightly, thank goodness, because at close to 18 weeks, I'm at my wits end to achieve some relief. The exhaustion, however, seems to be getting worse. Today, I went down the basement stairs and back up, realized I'd forgotten something, and actually thought that I wasn't physically capable of making it down and up the stairs again. I have this bone deep tiredness that makes my whole body ache and my eyes burn. What is up with this? Is it anemia? Pregnancy? Dehydration? I can't figure it out.
We had our slightly early 18 week ultrasound today, and true to our word, did not find out the sex, although I tried to spy the nether regions with no success. I don't want to know, but at the same time, I DO. I REALLY, REALLY DO. It is killing me a tiny bit, I want to know so bad. Yet, I know if I find out I'll be disappointed that I didn't wait. Hence, I hold off on the finding out. Still killing me, though. We're having a repeat ultrasound in 4 weeks, though, because the baby was a little reluctant to show off his or her kidneys and blood flow. That means I have another 4 weeks to wrestle with my decision and obsess over whether I want to know or not. Hee!
I hope your summer is going splendidly also, full of surprises and cute kids.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
snails and puppy dog tails
It has recently come to my attention that I have a boy living in my house. A boy, who despite his small stature and diaper wearing attire and limited vocabulary, is very clearly and obviously A BOY. At this moment, he is standing in front of me with his tricycle helmet on his head, a baseball mitt on his left hand, a tee ball in his right hand, his baseball bat at his feet, and he is experimenting with pitching. He smacks his ball carefully into his mitt, as he's seen on the televised Red Sox games, lifts his right leg in his modified pitcher's stance, and tosses the ball across the room.
18 months old today, and he thinks he is a professional ball player.
Before I open my eyes every morning, the first words I hear floating over the monitor are "bay-ball". Gabe often launches into long diatribes with "bahl" and "bay-bahl" and sometimes "bat" sprinkled in. Yesterday, I was trying his bathing suit on him while I packed for Aruba, and he insisted on running around the house for over 2 hours in the swimsuit (with inflated flotation devices around his waist) with his helmet on, his mitt and ball, and sweat running down his cheeks. His hair looked as if he'd just gotten out of the pool, he was so drenched in sweat from wearing his helmet indoors.
He likes basketball, golf, football, soccer, and any other sport that has a ball. Josh watches sports in the evenings sometimes, and while we're alone at home, Gabe often begs me to turn the tv onto sports. I've tried to convince him to watch something more age-appropriate instead, like Sesame Street perhaps, but his true love is sports. Every sport. Yesterday, he watched 45 minutes of golf. Golf! What could he possibly find interesting about golf? But he exclaimed excitedly over every putt and drive, and would narrate the scene for me while he watched.
And I swore I wouldn't let my kid watch tv, and now look at us. I have to distract him with playing outside to get him to stop asking for sports on television. Parenting is such a humbling experience sometimes.
Gabe has a nervous breakdown over every bus, truck, construction vehicle, motorcycle and bicycle we pass while driving. He points every vehicle out to us, even if all we can see is a piece of an orange crane over the tops of the skyscrapers in Boston. He's seen it, even if it is 3 miles away, and he wants us to know. He has learned the names for a "diggah", "dump cruck", "fah cruck", "cah", "cah-crain (train)", and loads of other words that bear no resemblance to the actual word, except that we recognize the meaning because he always calls them the same thing when he sees them. There is construction going on in our town center, and before we are even 5 blocks away, he starts naming all the vehicles he will see. I dread the day when the construction is finally done, I'll have a devastated child on my hands.
Our neighbor gave us a whole collection of orange construction vehicles, and we have to fight with Gabe to get him to eat and sleep without them. I've selected a couple of favorites, and even though they weigh a ton, I can't imagine trying to get to Aruba without them. We'd have to find a toy store near the hotel tomorrow morning if he woke up without his "crucks". It is an obsession.
The craziest thing, though, is that we have no books about trucks and we don't talk about trucks. I don't know anything about sports, in fact, I detest watching sports and do it as little as possible. His obsession has come from some inner part of his little boy psyche that knew it loved sports. He used to walk around the house with his plastic chicken leg from his play kitchen and pretend the it was a baseball bat. He'd toss around the dogs' toys because he didn't have balls. Until yesterday, he would put one of his shoes on his hand and pretend it was a mitt. He knows he loves sports, and he's not afraid to improvise.
It isn't fair really. Now I'm totally outnumbered when I have both Josh and Gabe whining for baseball every evening. I don't care whether this baby is a boy or a girl, but it better not love trucks and sports. I'm looking for my next child to love to take walks and explore flowers, and maybe play with a little with a play kitchen. Tea anyone?
18 months old today, and he thinks he is a professional ball player.
Before I open my eyes every morning, the first words I hear floating over the monitor are "bay-ball". Gabe often launches into long diatribes with "bahl" and "bay-bahl" and sometimes "bat" sprinkled in. Yesterday, I was trying his bathing suit on him while I packed for Aruba, and he insisted on running around the house for over 2 hours in the swimsuit (with inflated flotation devices around his waist) with his helmet on, his mitt and ball, and sweat running down his cheeks. His hair looked as if he'd just gotten out of the pool, he was so drenched in sweat from wearing his helmet indoors.
He likes basketball, golf, football, soccer, and any other sport that has a ball. Josh watches sports in the evenings sometimes, and while we're alone at home, Gabe often begs me to turn the tv onto sports. I've tried to convince him to watch something more age-appropriate instead, like Sesame Street perhaps, but his true love is sports. Every sport. Yesterday, he watched 45 minutes of golf. Golf! What could he possibly find interesting about golf? But he exclaimed excitedly over every putt and drive, and would narrate the scene for me while he watched.
And I swore I wouldn't let my kid watch tv, and now look at us. I have to distract him with playing outside to get him to stop asking for sports on television. Parenting is such a humbling experience sometimes.
Gabe has a nervous breakdown over every bus, truck, construction vehicle, motorcycle and bicycle we pass while driving. He points every vehicle out to us, even if all we can see is a piece of an orange crane over the tops of the skyscrapers in Boston. He's seen it, even if it is 3 miles away, and he wants us to know. He has learned the names for a "diggah", "dump cruck", "fah cruck", "cah", "cah-crain (train)", and loads of other words that bear no resemblance to the actual word, except that we recognize the meaning because he always calls them the same thing when he sees them. There is construction going on in our town center, and before we are even 5 blocks away, he starts naming all the vehicles he will see. I dread the day when the construction is finally done, I'll have a devastated child on my hands.
Our neighbor gave us a whole collection of orange construction vehicles, and we have to fight with Gabe to get him to eat and sleep without them. I've selected a couple of favorites, and even though they weigh a ton, I can't imagine trying to get to Aruba without them. We'd have to find a toy store near the hotel tomorrow morning if he woke up without his "crucks". It is an obsession.
The craziest thing, though, is that we have no books about trucks and we don't talk about trucks. I don't know anything about sports, in fact, I detest watching sports and do it as little as possible. His obsession has come from some inner part of his little boy psyche that knew it loved sports. He used to walk around the house with his plastic chicken leg from his play kitchen and pretend the it was a baseball bat. He'd toss around the dogs' toys because he didn't have balls. Until yesterday, he would put one of his shoes on his hand and pretend it was a mitt. He knows he loves sports, and he's not afraid to improvise.
It isn't fair really. Now I'm totally outnumbered when I have both Josh and Gabe whining for baseball every evening. I don't care whether this baby is a boy or a girl, but it better not love trucks and sports. I'm looking for my next child to love to take walks and explore flowers, and maybe play with a little with a play kitchen. Tea anyone?
Sunday, June 22, 2008
just looking chubby, not pregnant
I don't want to alarm you, but I think this baby might be trying to kill me.
We're 14 and a half weeks and counting and I'm STILL sick. I still spend a good chunk of every day so nauseous that I can't move, I'm so tired that I lie on the couch for hours every afternoon, I have blinding headaches at least every other day, and did I mention the nausea? The nausea is pushing me over the edge. I was feeling so much better with Gabe by this point, so there are moments that are demoralizing. My OB keeps trying to make me feel better by promising that I'll feel better by 15 weeks, but again, since this baby might be trying to kill me, I feel little confidence about her promises.
Of course, there are really great things, like some stretches of the day where I feel pretty good. That is an improvement, it used to be 24/7 nausea. Now it's more like 14/7 nausea. There are also the tiny little flutters that I feel, and those tiny little flutters feel suspiciously like baby movements. It seems far out, because I didn't think you'd be able to feel a baby so soon, but I am choosing to believe that it's more baby than gas. There's also the great news that the baby checks out as totally normal, and our big ultrasound is scheduled for July 15th. I can't wait to check out all the little bits (except for the really revealing ones, of course, although I'm so tempted).
The strangest thing of all, is that I am barely showing. With Gabe I already had a decent pooch of a belly, but these days you'd never know that I'm pregnant. Only in the last two days have I seen any kind of transformation, and I suspect part of this is the fact that I started wearing maternity shirts and pants so they at least billow out to give an impression of a belly. Even my mom was disappointed with my lack of belly when she got off the plane for her visit this week. If I hadn't seen that baby repeatedly on the ultrasound, I'd be doubtful that it was in there at all. Don't get me wrong, the appearance of lovely pregnancy induced cellulite is here. I'm bloated and my thighs and butt have started growing already. I'm just missing the telltale tummy. Sadly.
Besides that, things are good. We're planning for a last minute vacation we planned for next week. I found a fabulous timeshare rental for a condo on Craigslist in Aruba for dirt cheap. Dirt dirt dirt cheap. We booked the tickets with mileage, and since we have a kitchen, we're hoping to eat most of our meals at the discount grocery store rate. I plan to spend every waking minute at the beach and the pool, reading trashy novels, eating ice cream, and hopefully growing that nonexistent belly. We leave on Sunday, and I am counting the minutes until then. And packing bathing suits and lots of sunscreen. Oh, and hoping that I'm not too nauseous to do nothing on the beach.
We're 14 and a half weeks and counting and I'm STILL sick. I still spend a good chunk of every day so nauseous that I can't move, I'm so tired that I lie on the couch for hours every afternoon, I have blinding headaches at least every other day, and did I mention the nausea? The nausea is pushing me over the edge. I was feeling so much better with Gabe by this point, so there are moments that are demoralizing. My OB keeps trying to make me feel better by promising that I'll feel better by 15 weeks, but again, since this baby might be trying to kill me, I feel little confidence about her promises.
Of course, there are really great things, like some stretches of the day where I feel pretty good. That is an improvement, it used to be 24/7 nausea. Now it's more like 14/7 nausea. There are also the tiny little flutters that I feel, and those tiny little flutters feel suspiciously like baby movements. It seems far out, because I didn't think you'd be able to feel a baby so soon, but I am choosing to believe that it's more baby than gas. There's also the great news that the baby checks out as totally normal, and our big ultrasound is scheduled for July 15th. I can't wait to check out all the little bits (except for the really revealing ones, of course, although I'm so tempted).
The strangest thing of all, is that I am barely showing. With Gabe I already had a decent pooch of a belly, but these days you'd never know that I'm pregnant. Only in the last two days have I seen any kind of transformation, and I suspect part of this is the fact that I started wearing maternity shirts and pants so they at least billow out to give an impression of a belly. Even my mom was disappointed with my lack of belly when she got off the plane for her visit this week. If I hadn't seen that baby repeatedly on the ultrasound, I'd be doubtful that it was in there at all. Don't get me wrong, the appearance of lovely pregnancy induced cellulite is here. I'm bloated and my thighs and butt have started growing already. I'm just missing the telltale tummy. Sadly.
Besides that, things are good. We're planning for a last minute vacation we planned for next week. I found a fabulous timeshare rental for a condo on Craigslist in Aruba for dirt cheap. Dirt dirt dirt cheap. We booked the tickets with mileage, and since we have a kitchen, we're hoping to eat most of our meals at the discount grocery store rate. I plan to spend every waking minute at the beach and the pool, reading trashy novels, eating ice cream, and hopefully growing that nonexistent belly. We leave on Sunday, and I am counting the minutes until then. And packing bathing suits and lots of sunscreen. Oh, and hoping that I'm not too nauseous to do nothing on the beach.
Monday, June 16, 2008
to test or not to test
When the OB explained the Ultrascreen test to me, the prenatal test that measures your odds of having a baby with a chromosomal defect, she went into great detail about what the test measured. She carefully explained what different areas were examined through the ultrasound, what the blood test looked for, what the results meant.
When I asked what happened if something came back 'bad', she responded that it wouldn't. "I know," I said, "but what if it does?" "Well, it won't. Your odds are low, only slightly higher than when you were pregnant with Gabe." I nodded, but pressed ahead, "But what if it does? What happens then?" She seemed slightly bothered by my question, "We might advise an amniocentesis, but you wouldn't have that until 16 weeks." I was surprised by this, imagining what it would be like to live with the possibility of heartbreaking news for a month before I could have any kind of confirmation. We talked about an amnio and it's risks, and then moved on. I didn't realize until later that she hadn't really answered my question. In fact, she'd appeared to be purposefully resisting answering the question, even when I insisted.
This bothers me. It bothers me that she would offer a medical test, but then not have the guts to talk about your options if that test comes back with a devastating result. I can't imagine what I would do if such a thing came to pass, in fact, I pretty much push the possibility out of my mind whenever it arises. But I'd expected her to explain the medical side of everything, to describe the options or lack of options you have when you get the results of tests like these.
I am a "need to know" kind of person. I have loads of friends who have refused such tests, because they know in their hearts that they would keep their baby no matter what happens. I need to know. It doesn't matter what the answer is, I want to know as much as I can (except the sex, of course, which seems a little random, doesn't it?).
We had the test last week, and everything looks great, although we're still waiting for the results of the blood test. I dropped the subject with her at the actual testing appointment of what we would do if something came back with high odds of a chromosomal defect, because she was so positive about the ultrasound and said that the ultrasound made up 3/4 of the actual test. Still, it surprised me, especially at a major teaching hospital in Boston.
Maybe I'm totally mistaken about the way she was acting, but it seemed clear to both Josh and I that she was avoiding answering, and that concerns me. If you're faced with a terrible decision, I would hope that your doctor would be supportive and open about helping you through those decisions. In the meantime, I'll be keeping fingers and toes crossed that all my tests come back normal.
When I asked what happened if something came back 'bad', she responded that it wouldn't. "I know," I said, "but what if it does?" "Well, it won't. Your odds are low, only slightly higher than when you were pregnant with Gabe." I nodded, but pressed ahead, "But what if it does? What happens then?" She seemed slightly bothered by my question, "We might advise an amniocentesis, but you wouldn't have that until 16 weeks." I was surprised by this, imagining what it would be like to live with the possibility of heartbreaking news for a month before I could have any kind of confirmation. We talked about an amnio and it's risks, and then moved on. I didn't realize until later that she hadn't really answered my question. In fact, she'd appeared to be purposefully resisting answering the question, even when I insisted.
This bothers me. It bothers me that she would offer a medical test, but then not have the guts to talk about your options if that test comes back with a devastating result. I can't imagine what I would do if such a thing came to pass, in fact, I pretty much push the possibility out of my mind whenever it arises. But I'd expected her to explain the medical side of everything, to describe the options or lack of options you have when you get the results of tests like these.
I am a "need to know" kind of person. I have loads of friends who have refused such tests, because they know in their hearts that they would keep their baby no matter what happens. I need to know. It doesn't matter what the answer is, I want to know as much as I can (except the sex, of course, which seems a little random, doesn't it?).
We had the test last week, and everything looks great, although we're still waiting for the results of the blood test. I dropped the subject with her at the actual testing appointment of what we would do if something came back with high odds of a chromosomal defect, because she was so positive about the ultrasound and said that the ultrasound made up 3/4 of the actual test. Still, it surprised me, especially at a major teaching hospital in Boston.
Maybe I'm totally mistaken about the way she was acting, but it seemed clear to both Josh and I that she was avoiding answering, and that concerns me. If you're faced with a terrible decision, I would hope that your doctor would be supportive and open about helping you through those decisions. In the meantime, I'll be keeping fingers and toes crossed that all my tests come back normal.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
someone should have mentioned this parenting thing was hard sometimes
The other day, my mom asked me if I would do anything differently with a second child than I'd done with Gabe.
It's funny, because I realized in that moment that having a second child is an opportunity to fix some of the mistakes you made with your first- and make some new ones along the way too! It is hard for me to say at this point what I'd do differently, because let's be honest, I've only had 17 months of parenting. I have a feeling mistakes will come to the surface a little later on, but after careful consideration, these are what I think I will do differently.
1. I'll stress less about breastfeeding.
I was a breastfeeding nazi, but only to myself. I was super champion to all my bottle-feeding friends, and I would beg some of my uber-stressed out friends to let go of some of the stress when they were killing themselves with difficult breastfeeding situations. But for some reason, I couldn't cut myself the same break. I think this is my ultra-perfectionist side shining through. Thankfully, my first six months of breastfeeding were relatively easy and my milk production issues didn't show up until around 9 months, but those last few months were tough. I pumped CONSTANTLY, sometimes 5 or 6 or 7 times per day, sometimes I'd sit in the kitchen in tears until 1 am, shutting the breast pump on and off and on and off. I even got up at 3 or 4am at times, just to stimulate production. It was craziness. All in an effort to avoid formula. Craziness, I tell you.
2. I'm going to leave my children once in a while.
I'm almost ashamed to admit this, but I've never left Gabe overnight. Not once, not yet. I've never had a non-family babysitter, which wouldn't be an issue if I had family close by, but I don't. This means that Josh and I have been out alone maybe 3-4 times? Maybe. We haven't gone to the movies or out for coffee or for walks alone, because our babysitters are so rare, and those same babysitters are generally in town to visit us so we can't very well ditch them when they visit. The non-family babysitter has half-way to do with anxiety, and a lot to do with finances, so I can't totally berate myself, but still. With baby #2, we are definitely going to have to find a way to budget some help. Even if it is 2 hours a week, I think it'll do me good to have a tiny bit of "me" time.
3. Josh is going to have to help more.
Don't get me wrong, Josh helps a lot, but I have fallen into that silly trap of showing that I can do it all. This first trimester awfulness has shown me that I have to make a change. He has to step up and take a bigger chunk of childcare and house operations. Period.
4. I won't always assume this baby is hungry when he/she gets up at night.
When I was still breastfeeding, I assumed Gabe was hungry every time he woke up, even though the books and the pediatrician said he probably wasn't. I know he wasn't getting a ton of milk every time he fed, so I thought quantity was important and I'd feed him in the middle of the night even when we were approaching a year old. Once I'd stopped breastfeeding, he generally stopped getting up at night, but occasionally during trips away from home or when he was sick, he'd wake up and I'd give him a sippy cup. It was so easy, because he'd drink the milk and fall right to sleep. But sometimes, even after a trip or an illness, the waking up would linger and he'd be getting up for a week straight, often just a few hours after dinnertime and asking for milk. So one day, about a month ago, I just stopped. He woke up, I soothed him back to sleep. He got up again and asked for milk and I told him there was none, so he went to sleep. And STOPPED WAKING UP. I wish that when I cut out the nighttime nursing sessions, I'd never started with the sippy cups because I have a feeling we were waking up for much longer than we needed to. Hopefully I'll remember this in another year and a half.
5. I'll print some pictures out, maybe complete a baby book or two.
I still have no baby book completed, and although I have 5000+ pictures, I never print them out. This has to change, or my children will disown me in the future.
6. I'll email out more pictures too.
My poor mom has taken to paying me $5 a picture, if I'll just send her some.
7. I'll treasure the babydom more.
Now I know just HOW fast it really passes. I am treasuring my toddlerdom these days. I want to burn images into my mind- like Gabe standing at the coffee table with a car in his hand, vroom vrooming around the glass top, or singing to him last night in his rocker and the way he turns his face to look at me, watch me sing and give me the sweetest little half smile, or the way he comes over unsolicited and gives me hugs and kisses. Oh, the heartbreaking cuteness.
8. I'll be more patient.
This one will be the hardest, I suspect. Between the baby and the two dogs, patience runs short these days.
9. I'll cut myself some slack.
Or maybe this one will be the hardest, actually. I'm trying, though. A few days ago, I put the dogs in the kitchen, Gabe in his crib, and took a nap when I couldn't see straight from first trimester exhaustion. And I didn't even feel guilty about it. Everybody hits their breaking point sometimes.
What about you? What would you do differently? What advice can you give me? I'm more than a little nervous about this whole two kids under two thing. I have a feeling this winter is going to be a tough one!
It's funny, because I realized in that moment that having a second child is an opportunity to fix some of the mistakes you made with your first- and make some new ones along the way too! It is hard for me to say at this point what I'd do differently, because let's be honest, I've only had 17 months of parenting. I have a feeling mistakes will come to the surface a little later on, but after careful consideration, these are what I think I will do differently.
1. I'll stress less about breastfeeding.
I was a breastfeeding nazi, but only to myself. I was super champion to all my bottle-feeding friends, and I would beg some of my uber-stressed out friends to let go of some of the stress when they were killing themselves with difficult breastfeeding situations. But for some reason, I couldn't cut myself the same break. I think this is my ultra-perfectionist side shining through. Thankfully, my first six months of breastfeeding were relatively easy and my milk production issues didn't show up until around 9 months, but those last few months were tough. I pumped CONSTANTLY, sometimes 5 or 6 or 7 times per day, sometimes I'd sit in the kitchen in tears until 1 am, shutting the breast pump on and off and on and off. I even got up at 3 or 4am at times, just to stimulate production. It was craziness. All in an effort to avoid formula. Craziness, I tell you.
2. I'm going to leave my children once in a while.
I'm almost ashamed to admit this, but I've never left Gabe overnight. Not once, not yet. I've never had a non-family babysitter, which wouldn't be an issue if I had family close by, but I don't. This means that Josh and I have been out alone maybe 3-4 times? Maybe. We haven't gone to the movies or out for coffee or for walks alone, because our babysitters are so rare, and those same babysitters are generally in town to visit us so we can't very well ditch them when they visit. The non-family babysitter has half-way to do with anxiety, and a lot to do with finances, so I can't totally berate myself, but still. With baby #2, we are definitely going to have to find a way to budget some help. Even if it is 2 hours a week, I think it'll do me good to have a tiny bit of "me" time.
3. Josh is going to have to help more.
Don't get me wrong, Josh helps a lot, but I have fallen into that silly trap of showing that I can do it all. This first trimester awfulness has shown me that I have to make a change. He has to step up and take a bigger chunk of childcare and house operations. Period.
4. I won't always assume this baby is hungry when he/she gets up at night.
When I was still breastfeeding, I assumed Gabe was hungry every time he woke up, even though the books and the pediatrician said he probably wasn't. I know he wasn't getting a ton of milk every time he fed, so I thought quantity was important and I'd feed him in the middle of the night even when we were approaching a year old. Once I'd stopped breastfeeding, he generally stopped getting up at night, but occasionally during trips away from home or when he was sick, he'd wake up and I'd give him a sippy cup. It was so easy, because he'd drink the milk and fall right to sleep. But sometimes, even after a trip or an illness, the waking up would linger and he'd be getting up for a week straight, often just a few hours after dinnertime and asking for milk. So one day, about a month ago, I just stopped. He woke up, I soothed him back to sleep. He got up again and asked for milk and I told him there was none, so he went to sleep. And STOPPED WAKING UP. I wish that when I cut out the nighttime nursing sessions, I'd never started with the sippy cups because I have a feeling we were waking up for much longer than we needed to. Hopefully I'll remember this in another year and a half.
5. I'll print some pictures out, maybe complete a baby book or two.
I still have no baby book completed, and although I have 5000+ pictures, I never print them out. This has to change, or my children will disown me in the future.
6. I'll email out more pictures too.
My poor mom has taken to paying me $5 a picture, if I'll just send her some.
7. I'll treasure the babydom more.
Now I know just HOW fast it really passes. I am treasuring my toddlerdom these days. I want to burn images into my mind- like Gabe standing at the coffee table with a car in his hand, vroom vrooming around the glass top, or singing to him last night in his rocker and the way he turns his face to look at me, watch me sing and give me the sweetest little half smile, or the way he comes over unsolicited and gives me hugs and kisses. Oh, the heartbreaking cuteness.
8. I'll be more patient.
This one will be the hardest, I suspect. Between the baby and the two dogs, patience runs short these days.
9. I'll cut myself some slack.
Or maybe this one will be the hardest, actually. I'm trying, though. A few days ago, I put the dogs in the kitchen, Gabe in his crib, and took a nap when I couldn't see straight from first trimester exhaustion. And I didn't even feel guilty about it. Everybody hits their breaking point sometimes.
What about you? What would you do differently? What advice can you give me? I'm more than a little nervous about this whole two kids under two thing. I have a feeling this winter is going to be a tough one!
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
insanity
We lost our minds last week and decided to take Gabe to Chuck E. Cheese. It's been ages (read: decades) since I've seen the lovable giant mouse, and I was anticipating lots of loud noise, an overwhelmed child, definite over-stimulation, and lousy food.
We were, to say the least, pleasantly surprised. I'd gone on the website beforehand and scored some great coupons, so for $25, we had a large pizza with multiple toppings, 4 sodas, 1 milk, one salad bar, and 40 tokens. All of the games were 1 token each, so 40 tokens went a long way. The pizza was shockingly good! Thick crust, lots of cheese and veggies, Gabe gave his thumbs up approval. The salad bar was super fresh and yummy, and we each found tons to eat on it. The staff was pleasant and kind and responded to every request quickly, including running over with a high chair and a complimentary bib, converting a soda to a kid's milk at no additional charge, and letting Gabe pick out a mylar balloon even though he was 40 tickets short.
Gabe loved the characters singing on stage, although he was careful to keep a safe distance from them. He enjoyed all of the ride-on mechanical toys and kept running away with our skee balls while Josh and I were trying to play. He was a little too young for the jungle gym area, but he loved exploring all the different areas. The beauty of taking a 17 month old to a video game place, is that he didn't understand the whole tokens thing, so there was no begging but lots of clapping and laughing while he watched the games do their thing. Shamefully, he actually did better than I did on a particular game just by smacking his hands down on the buttons while I tried to use actual skill.
Anyway, it was cute and fun and we'll definitely be back. Maybe next time with some friends, now that we know that we can survive it with a toddler. In the meantime, we'll enjoy some pretty cute pictures!
Geez, I love that kid!
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
it's a good thing he is so cute
Gabriel is a really great baby. He is incredibly sweet and generous with hugs and kisses. He plays by himself without a problem for short periods of time during the day and doesn't throw many tantrums. He sits in his high chair for up to an hour at dinnertime, happily eating all different types of foods, including meat, vegetables, pasta, fish, fruit, plain yogurt, jars of leftover baby food, chicken, cereal, and whatever random food I put in front of him. He sleeps 13-14 hours a night and takes a 2 and a half to 3 hour nap in the afternoons. He is easygoing and curious and kind to other children. He is gorgeous and wonderful and I love him to death. He's really amazing- I am very lucky.
But oh my GOD, he is so crazy, ridiculously, absurdly, busy. He never ever ever NEVER stops. I know lots of parents say their children are full of energy, but I swear to you, you've probably never experienced a child like Gabe. I go to the bathroom and in the 30 seconds I'm gone, he's dragged the potted plant down off of the ledge and stomped through the dirt. He's scattered the dog food around the kitchen and splashed around in the water bowl. He's dragged a chair away from the table and climbed onto the dining room table and thrown everything off of it. He pulls his play table across the room, climbs onto the table to reach the high shelves, and flings books off the bookshelf gleefully. He opens dresser drawers and pulls all the clothes out. He empties the pantry of all its food in no time at all. He's learned to open doors. He's working on outsmarting the child locks. He can destroy a room in 27.6 seconds.
At play dates, he refuses to be confined by the toys in a playroom. Instead, he'll sneak into the hallway to open all your desk drawers, or take everything out of your kitchen cabinets. He'll find all of your non-toy implements and endeavor to discover totally inappropriate ways to use them. At the playground, he puts other children to shame in the number of times he can go down a slide, run around the play structure and climb back up, all while other kids are still climbing up the stairs. While other children sit quietly in music class, he climbs under the tables and behind the barricades to reach the shelves where he can climb. He spends half the class trying to climb over the baby gate. If he can get into the bathroom, he'll open the toilet and throw things inside of it and flush it faster than you can run across the room. At the park, he will determinedly run away from me and never look back. I have watched him get a full football field's length away without ever checking to see if I am coming. He is daring and brave and very independent. It also doesn't help that at almost 17 months, Gabe is impressively coordinated (although clearly not from my side of the family). He kicks balls, throws over and underhanded, climbs up everything skillfully and easily, runs up and down hills without stumbling. His pediatrician said that at 15 months, he probably had the gross motor skills of a 2 year old. What that really means for me, though, is that he has the ability to get in even more trouble, even faster.
He is exhausting. My in-laws, who would never utter a negative word against any of their grandchildren describe him as relentless. My father in law thinks that Gabe is Josh's revenge for how bad Josh was in his childhood. My parents cautioned me never to take my eyes off of him, because he can accomplish a great deal in a second. My friends admit that he is nonstop action, although they're quick to follow up with other kind words about him. I think he must sleep so well at night and during naps because he wears himself out the rest of the time.
I wouldn't trade him for the world, but there are days when I wish he would sit quietly for 5 minutes. There are days when I wish he was just a little less curious, maybe a little less active. At the same time, though, he is outrageously cute. I've never laughed more in a day than I do now, as I watch him flit from activity to activity, putting buckets on his head, and daddy's shoes on his feet, and chasing the dogs to feed them his play kitchen food. Life is very fun these days. Busy, but very fun.
Really, though, I think I can only handle one Gabe. My one wish (besides being healthy) is that his sibling has other gifts besides having the energy of a jackrabbit. I'm buoyed by hearing people's stories about how different their children are, and I hope this next one is equally amazing, just a tiny bit less crazy. I can hope, right? Please tell me there's hope. My sanity needs it.
Ignore her... Is this the face of a troublemaker?
But oh my GOD, he is so crazy, ridiculously, absurdly, busy. He never ever ever NEVER stops. I know lots of parents say their children are full of energy, but I swear to you, you've probably never experienced a child like Gabe. I go to the bathroom and in the 30 seconds I'm gone, he's dragged the potted plant down off of the ledge and stomped through the dirt. He's scattered the dog food around the kitchen and splashed around in the water bowl. He's dragged a chair away from the table and climbed onto the dining room table and thrown everything off of it. He pulls his play table across the room, climbs onto the table to reach the high shelves, and flings books off the bookshelf gleefully. He opens dresser drawers and pulls all the clothes out. He empties the pantry of all its food in no time at all. He's learned to open doors. He's working on outsmarting the child locks. He can destroy a room in 27.6 seconds.
At play dates, he refuses to be confined by the toys in a playroom. Instead, he'll sneak into the hallway to open all your desk drawers, or take everything out of your kitchen cabinets. He'll find all of your non-toy implements and endeavor to discover totally inappropriate ways to use them. At the playground, he puts other children to shame in the number of times he can go down a slide, run around the play structure and climb back up, all while other kids are still climbing up the stairs. While other children sit quietly in music class, he climbs under the tables and behind the barricades to reach the shelves where he can climb. He spends half the class trying to climb over the baby gate. If he can get into the bathroom, he'll open the toilet and throw things inside of it and flush it faster than you can run across the room. At the park, he will determinedly run away from me and never look back. I have watched him get a full football field's length away without ever checking to see if I am coming. He is daring and brave and very independent. It also doesn't help that at almost 17 months, Gabe is impressively coordinated (although clearly not from my side of the family). He kicks balls, throws over and underhanded, climbs up everything skillfully and easily, runs up and down hills without stumbling. His pediatrician said that at 15 months, he probably had the gross motor skills of a 2 year old. What that really means for me, though, is that he has the ability to get in even more trouble, even faster.
He is exhausting. My in-laws, who would never utter a negative word against any of their grandchildren describe him as relentless. My father in law thinks that Gabe is Josh's revenge for how bad Josh was in his childhood. My parents cautioned me never to take my eyes off of him, because he can accomplish a great deal in a second. My friends admit that he is nonstop action, although they're quick to follow up with other kind words about him. I think he must sleep so well at night and during naps because he wears himself out the rest of the time.
I wouldn't trade him for the world, but there are days when I wish he would sit quietly for 5 minutes. There are days when I wish he was just a little less curious, maybe a little less active. At the same time, though, he is outrageously cute. I've never laughed more in a day than I do now, as I watch him flit from activity to activity, putting buckets on his head, and daddy's shoes on his feet, and chasing the dogs to feed them his play kitchen food. Life is very fun these days. Busy, but very fun.
Really, though, I think I can only handle one Gabe. My one wish (besides being healthy) is that his sibling has other gifts besides having the energy of a jackrabbit. I'm buoyed by hearing people's stories about how different their children are, and I hope this next one is equally amazing, just a tiny bit less crazy. I can hope, right? Please tell me there's hope. My sanity needs it.
Ignore her... Is this the face of a troublemaker?
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
maybe I'll make it after all
I woke up today and felt... human.
For the first time in many many weeks.
I'm still queasy, but queasy is nothing compared to what I've been for quite some time. I would be freaking out about it, but we just had an ultrasound yesterday and a scan with the doppler, and 002 is in there, waving his or her little arms and legs at me. The heartbeat was 190, nice and strong, and much faster than Gabe's has ever been. Who knows what that means, but the OB said it sounded like a girl's heartbeat to her. I say those are all old wives' tales. I guess we'll find out in December!
We've pretty much decided that we won't be finding out what the sex of this baby is until the birth. The real reason is that we just don't care whether this is a girl or a boy, and we loved not knowing with Gabe, so we figure we'll keep the tradition. I'm excited for either option. It would be great to have a girl, just because I'd love to have a daughter, but it would also be great to have another boy because they'll be close in age. I think Gabe would love a brother, plus, I have SO MANY cute baby boy clothes that I desperately want to use again. We'd love to have a third child, as long as this one isn't any more of a hellion than Gabriel, so I'm not that worried either way.
I've been feeling pretty guilty lately, and I hate to even write this down for 002 to read one day, but being this sick all the time has made it hard for me to be very excited about this pregnancy. There have been so many days when I can't even get up off the bathroom floor or pick myself up off the couch without wanting to cry. I've felt so sick, that when I went into this week's doctor's appointment, I was convinced something would be wrong. I kept imagining what I would do when I found out that the vomiting had been a sign of something terrible, and thinking those thoughts definitely does not make the all-the-freaking-time-sickness any easier to bear.
I felt sick with Gabe, but it wasn't this kind of all-encompassing, wanting to gouge my eyes out, sobbing against the toilet, type of sickness. I was tired of being sick, but I could still feel so much excitement for our first pregnancy. This time, I'm so frustrated and exhausted from the nausea, I have moments where I'm convinced that there isn't a baby in there, but instead a parasite that is killing me slowly.
I feel terrible writing this down, because I don't want to seem ungrateful. I am grateful. I am excited. I keep picking up my ultrasound pictures with the bean with the gigantic head and the little arms and legs and I think I finally believe that there is a baby. I can't believe there might be another baby as amazing as Gabe in my life in a few short months. Josh and I can't wait. It's just hard. Some days are harder than others, and today, waking up to a world with no gagging has allowed me to admit that it is surprisingly harder than I'd imagined.
For the first time in many many weeks.
I'm still queasy, but queasy is nothing compared to what I've been for quite some time. I would be freaking out about it, but we just had an ultrasound yesterday and a scan with the doppler, and 002 is in there, waving his or her little arms and legs at me. The heartbeat was 190, nice and strong, and much faster than Gabe's has ever been. Who knows what that means, but the OB said it sounded like a girl's heartbeat to her. I say those are all old wives' tales. I guess we'll find out in December!
We've pretty much decided that we won't be finding out what the sex of this baby is until the birth. The real reason is that we just don't care whether this is a girl or a boy, and we loved not knowing with Gabe, so we figure we'll keep the tradition. I'm excited for either option. It would be great to have a girl, just because I'd love to have a daughter, but it would also be great to have another boy because they'll be close in age. I think Gabe would love a brother, plus, I have SO MANY cute baby boy clothes that I desperately want to use again. We'd love to have a third child, as long as this one isn't any more of a hellion than Gabriel, so I'm not that worried either way.
I've been feeling pretty guilty lately, and I hate to even write this down for 002 to read one day, but being this sick all the time has made it hard for me to be very excited about this pregnancy. There have been so many days when I can't even get up off the bathroom floor or pick myself up off the couch without wanting to cry. I've felt so sick, that when I went into this week's doctor's appointment, I was convinced something would be wrong. I kept imagining what I would do when I found out that the vomiting had been a sign of something terrible, and thinking those thoughts definitely does not make the all-the-freaking-time-sickness any easier to bear.
I felt sick with Gabe, but it wasn't this kind of all-encompassing, wanting to gouge my eyes out, sobbing against the toilet, type of sickness. I was tired of being sick, but I could still feel so much excitement for our first pregnancy. This time, I'm so frustrated and exhausted from the nausea, I have moments where I'm convinced that there isn't a baby in there, but instead a parasite that is killing me slowly.
I feel terrible writing this down, because I don't want to seem ungrateful. I am grateful. I am excited. I keep picking up my ultrasound pictures with the bean with the gigantic head and the little arms and legs and I think I finally believe that there is a baby. I can't believe there might be another baby as amazing as Gabe in my life in a few short months. Josh and I can't wait. It's just hard. Some days are harder than others, and today, waking up to a world with no gagging has allowed me to admit that it is surprisingly harder than I'd imagined.
Friday, May 16, 2008
makes you wonder about our home's construction, huh?
I came home tonight, at 8:15 pm, which is pretty close to Gabe's bedtime, to discover that I was locked out of the house.
You see, I left this afternoon through the garage because the stroller was in the garage and I needed to put it in the car. I checked and double checked that I had the front door key before I closed the garage door and snuck out underneath, because, come on, I'm no idiot. I failed to check, however, that I'd removed the FREAKING CHAIN from the front door.
So I get home late, laden with bags, and a cranky child, and dogs barking crazily inside, and horrific morning sickness, and crazy pregnancy hormones, and discover that we're locked out because the safety chain lock thing is keeping us out. The garage door opener is sitting in Josh's locked car at the Boston airport, while Josh is in Seattle with the keys to his car.
What to do? With my cranky toddler in tow, I find a stick in the backyard to see if I can somehow fashion a hook to push the inside chain off the track to let us in. Shockingly, my stick idea doesn't work although I made a valiant attempt and skinned half of my hand off while trying. Then, I try my keys in the side and back doors, even though I KNOW they don't open those doors because we specifically fashioned the door locks that way. I look around for an open window, even though I don't have a ladder to access the windows, but whatever, I'm not thinking straight at this point. I called Josh in Seattle, but another big shock, he can't really help from 3,000 miles away. In fact, he told me he was busy in a meeting but would "try to brainstorm in the meantime". Gee, thanks.
I return to the front door, examine the situation again, and decide on the most logical thing my pregnant brain can come up with. I'll kick down the door. KICK DOWN THE DOOR. And do you know what? I actually did it. I kicked our front door hard enough and long enough that I took the entire molding off the door, where the chain was attached, off the wall. Yup.
And then I calmly took the rather large piece of molding, with chain still attached, and large nails sticking out, and placed it on the dining room table for Josh to deal with. I vacuumed up the chunks of paint and wall that littered my entryway, dressed my child for bed, put him down, and ate a cupcake, because damn it, I needed one.
Never in this whole situation did it occur to me to ask the neighbor for a bolt cutter to cut through the chain, or even to go to the hardware store to buy a bolt cutter to cut through the chain. Nope. The logical thing to me was to kick down the door. Not call a locksmith, or the fire department, or whomever you call in situations like these. I kick down doors. With toddlers watching, because I like to set good examples.
It is any wonder that he keeps kicking the dogs? Also, please send more cupcakes. I'm going to need them tomorrow when Josh sees the front door.
You see, I left this afternoon through the garage because the stroller was in the garage and I needed to put it in the car. I checked and double checked that I had the front door key before I closed the garage door and snuck out underneath, because, come on, I'm no idiot. I failed to check, however, that I'd removed the FREAKING CHAIN from the front door.
So I get home late, laden with bags, and a cranky child, and dogs barking crazily inside, and horrific morning sickness, and crazy pregnancy hormones, and discover that we're locked out because the safety chain lock thing is keeping us out. The garage door opener is sitting in Josh's locked car at the Boston airport, while Josh is in Seattle with the keys to his car.
What to do? With my cranky toddler in tow, I find a stick in the backyard to see if I can somehow fashion a hook to push the inside chain off the track to let us in. Shockingly, my stick idea doesn't work although I made a valiant attempt and skinned half of my hand off while trying. Then, I try my keys in the side and back doors, even though I KNOW they don't open those doors because we specifically fashioned the door locks that way. I look around for an open window, even though I don't have a ladder to access the windows, but whatever, I'm not thinking straight at this point. I called Josh in Seattle, but another big shock, he can't really help from 3,000 miles away. In fact, he told me he was busy in a meeting but would "try to brainstorm in the meantime". Gee, thanks.
I return to the front door, examine the situation again, and decide on the most logical thing my pregnant brain can come up with. I'll kick down the door. KICK DOWN THE DOOR. And do you know what? I actually did it. I kicked our front door hard enough and long enough that I took the entire molding off the door, where the chain was attached, off the wall. Yup.
And then I calmly took the rather large piece of molding, with chain still attached, and large nails sticking out, and placed it on the dining room table for Josh to deal with. I vacuumed up the chunks of paint and wall that littered my entryway, dressed my child for bed, put him down, and ate a cupcake, because damn it, I needed one.
Never in this whole situation did it occur to me to ask the neighbor for a bolt cutter to cut through the chain, or even to go to the hardware store to buy a bolt cutter to cut through the chain. Nope. The logical thing to me was to kick down the door. Not call a locksmith, or the fire department, or whomever you call in situations like these. I kick down doors. With toddlers watching, because I like to set good examples.
It is any wonder that he keeps kicking the dogs? Also, please send more cupcakes. I'm going to need them tomorrow when Josh sees the front door.
tao of fertility
On the baby-making bandwagon? Thinking about it in the near future? Check out the Pumpkin Products blog for information about The Tao of Fertility, a book about Chinese medicine and infertility.
Plus, I'm giving away a free copy!
Plus, I'm giving away a free copy!
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