Wednesday, February 28, 2007
the magic of the first smile
we saw it today, and were too slow with the camera to get a picture. But it happened. Fussy smiled.
Monday, February 26, 2007
the joys of technology, and assorted other vents
our isp is freaking out. I haven't been able to get online consistently for a week now. Sure, occasionally it fixes itself and I can pop on for a minute or two. That is when you realize that you are addicted to the Internet. The really craptastic part is that we have our phone through our Internet, so pretty much the world thinks I'm mad at them because I haven't been answering the phone. Only because I have no phone service. Really.
Harry is sick. Today was the day he was supposed to go back on track for school. Three weeks off and he is perfectly healthy. He is uber healthy and driving me crazy. "When will school be in??" I think to myself. Then early Sunday morning, while I was up feeding Fussy, I hear a weak "mom" coming from Harry. He is fevered hot and tells me that he feels weird. And he has been that way for 2 days now. Missing school. He hasn't puked yet, or gunked up anything. He just feels weird and is about 103 degrees of burning hot mop head.
So now I get to plan out my week like this.... Harry in bed on Monday, Tuesday he goes back to school ( I HOPE!) Chilly fevered on Wednesday, Thursday. And Mom gets the sick bug on Friday. I am really praying that whatever illness this is, that my little Fussy doesn't get it this time, seeing that I can't give him med's to take down the fever.
and don't let me forget Fussy. 4 weeks old today! And my back is killing me. At two weeks old, he had already put on a pound. I imagine he's got another pound on again. All that dancing is straining out my back. He doesn't like to sleep. He grunts and wiggles like his belly hurts. I've cut out dairy, but it is looking more likely I need to cut out wheat. I don't know what I'll eat. If I do cut it out, I hope to stop smelling like sour milk. It's true what they say about babies, everything is a lot more moist now.
Harry is sick. Today was the day he was supposed to go back on track for school. Three weeks off and he is perfectly healthy. He is uber healthy and driving me crazy. "When will school be in??" I think to myself. Then early Sunday morning, while I was up feeding Fussy, I hear a weak "mom" coming from Harry. He is fevered hot and tells me that he feels weird. And he has been that way for 2 days now. Missing school. He hasn't puked yet, or gunked up anything. He just feels weird and is about 103 degrees of burning hot mop head.
So now I get to plan out my week like this.... Harry in bed on Monday, Tuesday he goes back to school ( I HOPE!) Chilly fevered on Wednesday, Thursday. And Mom gets the sick bug on Friday. I am really praying that whatever illness this is, that my little Fussy doesn't get it this time, seeing that I can't give him med's to take down the fever.
and don't let me forget Fussy. 4 weeks old today! And my back is killing me. At two weeks old, he had already put on a pound. I imagine he's got another pound on again. All that dancing is straining out my back. He doesn't like to sleep. He grunts and wiggles like his belly hurts. I've cut out dairy, but it is looking more likely I need to cut out wheat. I don't know what I'll eat. If I do cut it out, I hope to stop smelling like sour milk. It's true what they say about babies, everything is a lot more moist now.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
you've got to bloody your knee before you can learn to ride your bike
We've been suffering from unusually warm weather the last couple of days, so big d got the bikes out. Well he got Harry's bike out, and Chilly's tricycle, since his bike broke. Harry did it today. He learned to ride his bike without the training wheels. He did it all by himself. I think his success is partly because I wasn't there beside him holding him up. We just told him he could do it. He fell a couple of times, and he did scrape his knee up, bloody-ing the pants he was wearing. I told him from the sidelines that now he was bleading, you can officially ride your bike. And he did. I'm pretty proud of my future Lance Armstrong.
Chilly on the other hand learned to pedal! We've been working with him on it for ages, and it seems the same thing applied...get mom on the sidelines and let him do his thing.
And it is so true in every aspect of your life! You can't succeed at anything until you know you can do it! I keep telling myself this as I bounce baby #3 during the evening hours of endless fussiness. "I can do this!". 
Thursday, February 15, 2007
what do you do between 4-6
am that is? I am up. Out of bed, feeding an infant, rocking, dancing, pacing the floor. That is when my baby decides he is up for the day and insists on looking innocently up at me. And at that ungrateful hour of the morning, I just stare back at him.
I'm not complaining, mostly. I am grateful for the opportunity for quiet thought. I can't turn on the radio, or the tv. I just sit in my rocking chair thinking. I should put a notepad next to the chair because I swear I come up with great things to blog about. At least I think I do. When rational thought comes back to me, they might be pretty silly.
HOnestly though, I realized that it is a good time for me to reflect on the day I want to have. What things I need to get done. I try not to think about the sleep I am missing. But I usually feel outnumbered by the snores from the sleeping 3. And boy do they snore.
But at the early morning hour, the thought that usually comes up the most, and the one I can remember the most, it how amazing it is to be a mom. And how much I love my family.
sappy huh?
I know that this too shall pass, and eventually my early morning wonderings will be gone and replaced by REM sleep. But you know, when that happens, I will be a little bit sad. It will mean that my newborn isn't a newborn any more.
I'm not complaining, mostly. I am grateful for the opportunity for quiet thought. I can't turn on the radio, or the tv. I just sit in my rocking chair thinking. I should put a notepad next to the chair because I swear I come up with great things to blog about. At least I think I do. When rational thought comes back to me, they might be pretty silly.
HOnestly though, I realized that it is a good time for me to reflect on the day I want to have. What things I need to get done. I try not to think about the sleep I am missing. But I usually feel outnumbered by the snores from the sleeping 3. And boy do they snore.
But at the early morning hour, the thought that usually comes up the most, and the one I can remember the most, it how amazing it is to be a mom. And how much I love my family.
sappy huh?
I know that this too shall pass, and eventually my early morning wonderings will be gone and replaced by REM sleep. But you know, when that happens, I will be a little bit sad. It will mean that my newborn isn't a newborn any more.
Monday, February 12, 2007
perfect
It is what every expectant mother prays for. She holds her breath during the ultrasound until all is declared good. The moment of birth, she counts toes and fingers and looks her baby over for anything odd. Most times, nothing is found, and the baby is thus presented...Perfect! Until she gets him home, late night screaming change her mind and she wonders what is wrong. Is there something wrong with me, is there something wrong with him, the house, his room, his blanket??? What is it?
We had a moment like this during the weekend, where the babe was crying and awake for several hours. Both Big D and I were exhausted. Our poor little newborn had caught his very first cold. Not something momentous as a first tooth, but still. There was nothing we could do, he's only 12 days old. But still, he pulls those smiley faces while he sleeps, and again, he is perfect.
When I was in labor, we still hadn't decided on a name. I was laboring in the pool, and there was a clear thought about what his name should be. We had just barely thought of this name, we both liked it fine, it just wasn't on the top of the list. And I also got a clear view of what his middle name should be. My grandpa's name. Of course to be fair for family names, Harry was named after my side, Chilly named after Big-D's side. We were going to do a mix of both sides and use one from each, but it didn't work that way, and the babe named himself after my mom's side of the family. Big D obliged, how many husbands argue with a laboring woman?
When he popped out and was handed to me, I realized why my perfect little baby had this name. My grandfather was physically handicapped. His arm and leg on one side were smaller and didn't work. He was this way all his life, and yet he lived a very full life, he was a judge, had four kids, etc. A pretty normal guy. He used a cane when I knew him, and toward the end of his life, he had a hard time getting around. But most elderly people do.
Anyway, when my perfect baby was on my chest, I noticed his hand. It was much smaller than than the left hand, and it looked like he had arthritis of the fingers. That or he was doing "live long and prosper" from star trek. His little fingers are a little webbed. But the really noticeable part was how much smaller the right hand is. His arm is really skinny and a bit shorter too.
What does this mean? I have no idea. Of course you think about your baby and how perfect they will be, and when they come out, not quite perfect, at least to other's standards, you wonder. At least I did. I wondered how his life was going to be different. Is it going to be harder for him? Will he need more help? Will the Dr.'s want to do surgery? Are there other things that could be different with him?
He is still my perfect little baby, but now I wondered how other's would see him. Would they see him as perfect? Will they treat him differently?
Everybody has their thing. Harry has a dipped in chest. Chilly has a weird rib (and he did have webbing on another part of his body too). Just because you don't see it everyday, doesn't mean everybody doesn't have something different about them. That is what makes us unique. My babe will probably just have to deal with his for the rest of his life.
My baby has a small hand. And he has his grandfathers name. He has the name to remind him that he can have a normal life, that he is still perfect no matter what anyone else sees or thinks.
We had a moment like this during the weekend, where the babe was crying and awake for several hours. Both Big D and I were exhausted. Our poor little newborn had caught his very first cold. Not something momentous as a first tooth, but still. There was nothing we could do, he's only 12 days old. But still, he pulls those smiley faces while he sleeps, and again, he is perfect.
When I was in labor, we still hadn't decided on a name. I was laboring in the pool, and there was a clear thought about what his name should be. We had just barely thought of this name, we both liked it fine, it just wasn't on the top of the list. And I also got a clear view of what his middle name should be. My grandpa's name. Of course to be fair for family names, Harry was named after my side, Chilly named after Big-D's side. We were going to do a mix of both sides and use one from each, but it didn't work that way, and the babe named himself after my mom's side of the family. Big D obliged, how many husbands argue with a laboring woman?
When he popped out and was handed to me, I realized why my perfect little baby had this name. My grandfather was physically handicapped. His arm and leg on one side were smaller and didn't work. He was this way all his life, and yet he lived a very full life, he was a judge, had four kids, etc. A pretty normal guy. He used a cane when I knew him, and toward the end of his life, he had a hard time getting around. But most elderly people do.
Anyway, when my perfect baby was on my chest, I noticed his hand. It was much smaller than than the left hand, and it looked like he had arthritis of the fingers. That or he was doing "live long and prosper" from star trek. His little fingers are a little webbed. But the really noticeable part was how much smaller the right hand is. His arm is really skinny and a bit shorter too.
What does this mean? I have no idea. Of course you think about your baby and how perfect they will be, and when they come out, not quite perfect, at least to other's standards, you wonder. At least I did. I wondered how his life was going to be different. Is it going to be harder for him? Will he need more help? Will the Dr.'s want to do surgery? Are there other things that could be different with him?
He is still my perfect little baby, but now I wondered how other's would see him. Would they see him as perfect? Will they treat him differently?
Everybody has their thing. Harry has a dipped in chest. Chilly has a weird rib (and he did have webbing on another part of his body too). Just because you don't see it everyday, doesn't mean everybody doesn't have something different about them. That is what makes us unique. My babe will probably just have to deal with his for the rest of his life.
My baby has a small hand. And he has his grandfathers name. He has the name to remind him that he can have a normal life, that he is still perfect no matter what anyone else sees or thinks.
Friday, February 09, 2007
my family reads my blog!
since last June, when my beautiful neice got married, I've given my blog address out to certain members of my family. It was an easy way to share pictures. But it has come to my attention recently, that some of my family are still reading the pointless drivel that has been spewed forth.
This has taken me by surprise. I mean, I'm not much of a writer. The stories that I usually tell are pretty mundane and boring, and if you are in my family, you get the chance to hear it twice from me. I could always just embellesh things to make them more exciting on my blog, and I've thought about it a time or two, but of course, big d would have called me on it anyway.
But it recently took me by surprise when I recieved a comment to one of my posts under a new name I had never heard. I deduced, after a moment of though (which is very lacking in my newborn compromised brain), that it was my big sister. Whoa!
See for two years or so, I've belonged to an internet group, lovingly referred to as "MOF's", and no, that isn't a vulgar term. My Online Friends. I was invited to a message board that has since, filled many hours of my day with funny stories, sad news, and lots and lots of mom to mom advice. The problem with said message board is/was explaining it to people. Especially my family. With heaps of wisdom I would relate an experience of an MOF to someone in my family, and I would recieve a look. You know that look, "are you kidding me". I would tell them about the friends I had made all over the world! I don't think they really understood what it meant to me (and what it meant to my kids, to have mom occupied for a couple of hours a day!). And see that little box over on the right, the one that says "casa mofstra" yup those are some of my real MOF's, click on a few and you'll see that I am totally not lying to you. In fact I've even MET some of them IN REAL LIFE. And only one was a hairy perverted old fat man.
So you see, for a while now, I've had two worlds, the online world or "meemers' world" and my regular hard copy "meemer" complete with my own siblings and parents. And they were complete and seperate in themselves. Now I've got a cross-over happening. My parents are reading my blog, and they could be reading yours. My two worlds are closing in on each other, and I'm not sure it is a good thing, of course it really couldn't be a bad thing, as long as they leave a comment now and then.
But beware o ye parents and siblings of mine! I will not edit out embarrassing moments, foul language, or the words breast, vagina, butthole. In fact I might just want to make you all blush just a bit more. Not that sex was ever a topic I deemed worthy to talk about online, well, at least on my blog, it could come up. Surely in the weeks to come, there will be many references to the color of baby poop, bodily fluids, and maybe a post on circumcision.
This has taken me by surprise. I mean, I'm not much of a writer. The stories that I usually tell are pretty mundane and boring, and if you are in my family, you get the chance to hear it twice from me. I could always just embellesh things to make them more exciting on my blog, and I've thought about it a time or two, but of course, big d would have called me on it anyway.
But it recently took me by surprise when I recieved a comment to one of my posts under a new name I had never heard. I deduced, after a moment of though (which is very lacking in my newborn compromised brain), that it was my big sister. Whoa!
See for two years or so, I've belonged to an internet group, lovingly referred to as "MOF's", and no, that isn't a vulgar term. My Online Friends. I was invited to a message board that has since, filled many hours of my day with funny stories, sad news, and lots and lots of mom to mom advice. The problem with said message board is/was explaining it to people. Especially my family. With heaps of wisdom I would relate an experience of an MOF to someone in my family, and I would recieve a look. You know that look, "are you kidding me". I would tell them about the friends I had made all over the world! I don't think they really understood what it meant to me (and what it meant to my kids, to have mom occupied for a couple of hours a day!). And see that little box over on the right, the one that says "casa mofstra" yup those are some of my real MOF's, click on a few and you'll see that I am totally not lying to you. In fact I've even MET some of them IN REAL LIFE. And only one was a hairy perverted old fat man.
So you see, for a while now, I've had two worlds, the online world or "meemers' world" and my regular hard copy "meemer" complete with my own siblings and parents. And they were complete and seperate in themselves. Now I've got a cross-over happening. My parents are reading my blog, and they could be reading yours. My two worlds are closing in on each other, and I'm not sure it is a good thing, of course it really couldn't be a bad thing, as long as they leave a comment now and then.
But beware o ye parents and siblings of mine! I will not edit out embarrassing moments, foul language, or the words breast, vagina, butthole. In fact I might just want to make you all blush just a bit more. Not that sex was ever a topic I deemed worthy to talk about online, well, at least on my blog, it could come up. Surely in the weeks to come, there will be many references to the color of baby poop, bodily fluids, and maybe a post on circumcision.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Friday, February 02, 2007
Thursday, February 01, 2007
The birth
I have a sleeping baby at my breast> My heart is very grateful for that. My little boy arrived on Monday evening.
I had a restless night on Sunday. My body ached and my heart ached. My pride was a bit bruised too. All day long, all I could think of was the fact that my due date was here and my baby was not. I had been to church and heard the endless suggestions about starting labor, most of them involving use of a trampoline. Ignoring their wise council was tedious and frustrating. Going to bed that night was a bit sad. I knew my boy wasn't making an appearance, and I was crossing the line of "this is the longest I've ever been pregnant". I woke up a couple of times due to contractions, but nothing big.
amazingly I woke on Monday feeling really well. I still had my stink of a cold, but I had some energy. That should have been my first clue. I made arrangements with my mom for lunch out, seeing it was her birthday. I cleaned the house, did some laundry, all after getting Harry off to school. I even went to the new walmart that just opened!
Chilly and I met my sister, aunt, and birthday mom and walked to a great mexican place for lunch. I started feeling crampy, and my back was achey, but I ignored it. We had a yummy lunch and visited for a while. I started feeling more contractions, but that weren't serious, just annoying. We finally left a little before three pm, so I could go pick up Harry from school. At that point my mom asked me if I was okay. I insisted I was, and it couldn't be IT, because I had zero bloody show and never noticed the loss of a mucus plug. So I got into my mini van headed for home. Chilly fell asleep, so I bent over to change the music and had a huge contraction. I took my breath away, doubled me over. I called big D. I told him not to stay late at work. I didn't say hurry home, just that maybe something might be starting.
I picked up Harry from school, big d got home early. /he started messing with setting up our birthing pool, just because we hadn't practiced yet. We needed an adapter to fill it up, so we went off to walmart, my second trip of the day. I was having mild contractions here and there. Enough that a shopping cart to lean against was helpful. We walked around for a half hour or so, then came home where I started the tub, just to stop my back from hurting. My sister showed up with a couple of her kids and we sat and visited for a few minutes while big d made dinner for the boys. I started feeling queasy, so I mentioned to my sister that she might want to leave. I think I might have used the words barf and go away at the time. I finally got in my tub of hot water and Harry came in and sat by me. He got a watch and timed the contractions and kept me company.
The contractions started picking up in both speed and intensity. At one point they were a minute apart and double peaking! I decided big D should call the midwife and doula. It was about 6 pm. He started to fill the pool. I started to get scared. I got into the pool and took a few contractions. They were hard. They hurt. I didn't want to do this anymore. Midwife showed up, I took a few more contractions. Serious business. The kids kept to themselves and checked on my once or twice. My doula showed up. More hard contractions. 3 minutes apart. I had no idea how dilated I was because I never was checked. Overwhelmed by the sensations, I think I said a few prayers, closed my eyes and just surrendered to it. I chanted open to myself. I talked to my baby.
I got to the point where I needed some support. The pool was too soft, too watery. I got out and got on my bed. Midwife checked me and I was ready to push. But it hurt. He wasn't there yet. I pushed a few times. My water exploded. I felt his head move down. Rest. More pushing and I felt it move down more. I don't remember how long I did push, or how many times. Midwife had her hand in there moving things, I pushed again. Somewhere from something that wasn't me, pushed. I had the strength of something and I used it all. The boys were right there, big d was right there. I felt a head right there. Shoulders, out. ahhh. And then he screamed. The baby just cried. I was so done. Thank goodness!
Big d caught, Harry cut the cord. I held a squirmy, little baby in my arms. I was tired. It was 8:30.
he was 8 pounds, 6 ounces. Measuring 14 inch head, 21 and a bit tall.
So he has fussed, he has pooped, he had nursed. We feel blessed to have him here finally.
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