Thoughts at One Week

If there was a way to snort, smoke, or shoot the hormones that follow postpartum, the street value would rival that of the purest white powder. The drug war would be waged in America's maternity wards. That is one crazy trip. It takes me back to the Clomid Days except this time I've got the kids alongside Dad thinking, "Uh, oh. Bring your umbrella. The waterworks are about to start."

I wish there had been video of me getting ready this morning. Sitting on the birthing ball pumping while blow drying my hair. When the phone rang and I rushed to get it, we were seriously in the running for America's Funniest 10 Gs. That would have bought me a lot of Habermanns.

Habermann's are the special bottle we use to feed Porkchop. Until my order comes I only have one. When it grew legs and walked away last night (i.e. Scrunch wanted to feed Shoopie) I was beside myself. If I ever open an Etsy store it will be after designing a special homing device to locate these bad boys. I'll put rhinestones on them so they're super cute and Etsy-worthy.

For a dude whose supposed to have trouble eating and feeding, no one told him. He gained half a pound this week and is officially not able to wear half the wardrobe I had planned for the next two months. To prove the labeling of clothes is a racket he wore his cute Milk and Honey 6 MONTH outfit yesterday at six days. I'm so glad they don't do adult clothes. I'd wear a size 84.

Snaps on children's ware might seem like a good idea, but NOT 43 OF THEM! Cruel trick to play on a woman who can't see straight yet.

I went braless in public for the first time in my entire life today and was bustier than I've ever been. That put an extra spring in my step let me tell you. I will be pumping until he leaves for college.

Scrunch is going to keep her brother. I found her pony in the Pack 'n Play. I asked her if she wanted it and she said, "No. He needs to have it." That's a biggie.

I pumped in the Marie Callender's parking lot. Adding to the list of things done in the Marie Callender's parking lot. Husband worked there when we were dating and we both worked there for a time as newlyweds.

You've got to try their fresh strawberry banana cream pie.

My brain seems to be working again, though on a limited capacity. If it has the word pumping or pie associated, I'm all over it.

Humbled

You know what goes great with a glass of gratitude? Humble pie. 

Humbling is the only way I can think to describe this week.

If you are reading this you might be thinking, "She should be resting." Or maybe "Brat. She can't call me back but she can blog!?!?!" I have excuses for both. I will rest easier after I get a few things off my chest. As far as the call backs, I am facing a cell phone bill that rivals a car payment. A fancy foreign car that comes with a middle aged gentleman who tips his hat to you and calls you Ma'am as he helps you in and then proceeds to drive you where ever you'd like to go. New minutes start Monday.

First things first.

I need to publicly apologize and thank my mom. For a lot of things. I didn't make a big enough deal over Mother's Day this year. I was wallowing in my own discomfort and preoccupation with becoming a mom again myself. Mother's Day should not be about me being a mom, but about the woman who is my Mother. Happy Belated Mother's Day Mom! In case you don't know, my mother has strength Greek gladiators would envy and has raised four very strong and very independent daughters whose lives are only what they are because of her.

Next, I just need to get it out there so I quit hemming and hawing over how I am going to come out with it. Before I say this please, please recognize that pity is equivalent to arsenic or cyanide to me, and I have hesitated talking about this to avoid the thought of anyone feeling sorry for us and to steel myself and protect you from my already overzealous mother-bear protective nature.

Erick was born with a cleft lip and palate. We were not aware of this prior to his birth, but that is not to say that we were not prepared. It seems that we have been preparing for this kidlet for a long time and I am grateful to those around us who seem to have been prepared in miraculous ways in our behalf. It makes my heart hurt with gratitude when I think of the ways people have been in the right place at the right time and listening when they were prompted to do something before understanding why. Keep reading and you're likely to hear about some of it.

While caught off guard and presented with some special challenges, I am humbled when I think about how different things could have been. Eating and breathing are his primary challenges right now (both of which is he earning a gold star at), along with some cosmetic issues, but from our current understanding they are temporary. Things are going to be busy and a little rough for a little while, but by the time he is in elementary school this will hopefully be a distant memory and we can look back and be grateful for the awesome people we've met, helped, and been helped by along the way. I might have given birth in a tub at home attended by midwives (which I would not have changed for the world), but you better believe that I am totally grateful for the state of the art technology and the care the medical world can provide. We're going to use it. You'll hear about some of that too, most likely.

This is my life. I wouldn't change any of it. I'd like a nap, but I can sleep when I'm dead. You'd miss me if I slept more and blogged less. I'd miss you. Talking to cyberspace has a Prozac-like quality I appreciate. I have to laugh when I think about the infertility/adoption/cranio-facial special needs advocacy this blog has taken. Along with all my random thoughts and feelings. Wow-zas.

I've saved the best for last.

Is this not the cutest damned face you've ever seen? He needed the little blip to make things fair for the rest of the world. A curly haired girl and a dark-haired boy. I have everything I've ever wanted. That was not such a humble thing to say, but I'm still grateful none the less.

Little Dude is Actually A Big Dude

Erick James

May 17, 2010

9 lbs. 1 oz

21.5 inches long

The short version- I huffed, and I puffed and blew the house down.

The long version requires greater emotional energy than I have to tell it right now. But he was born at the right time, in the right place, and perfect in every way.

Busy As I Can Be

Lest you think I be sittin' on me bum tweedlin' ma thumbs waitin' fo dis boy to show. I ain't. Ain't nevah been busier.

OK, I'm done writing in a Southern maid's accent (or whatever that was). It's harder than it seems, especially for a very middle class California girl like myself. I just downloaded 'The Help' and hope it's good because I'm almost finished with my "Holy Crap! We've got to get this done before I'm tethered to a newborn! List" I wiped myself out this weekend in getting there and made my husband cry "Uncle!"

I use the term almost because I have about another week's worth of projects and supplies left and only three days until my due date. Such a patient man that husband!

Front Porch:
Flowers and a new wreath. I made it up as I went along after scoring the flowers at Dollar Tree.

Scrunch's Room:
Painted the headboard onto the wall because it was cheap and cute. I painted the wall art because (again) cheap and I think it turned out pretty cute. If you call it "custom" any old crap on the wall will sell in the right boutique. I added the three different colors of cording to the otherwise plain bedskirt and put the binding on the new quilt from Grami. The nightstands are still on the backporch- sanded but not yet painted. Dude! I'm only one person!

The three P's:
Pears-Totally digging the new dehydrator. Mango, pears, and roll ups are like candy!
Paint- Lucky Bamboo by Behr is my favorite color in the whole world. It is in just about every room of my house starting with the front door mat.
Puppy Quilt- Finally put the binding on the other quilt from Grami.

 

P.S. He takes all my pictures.

A very patient man.

A Good Idea

When Casey's son told his mom "Next time we go to California we should go to the beach and you should make cheesecake," I thought, "That boy is a genius!"

So, we took his advice.

Snickers cheesecake at the lake. Not homemade and not the beach, but I didn't want to rub it in too bad.

Cranky, Me?

I am a medical anomaly. Surprised? I have five stages of labor. There's the pre-pre-pre-labor early stage where I get nice and cranky. Really cranky. I'm sorry. Sort of. I'm still happy and grateful and excited and stuff, but DUDE!!!!!!

I almost had to call for help to get out of the Mini last night. All I could think was how ironic that I needed Lifeline and I didn't have it when I needed it. I promote Lifeline to my patients like I was getting some sort of cut from the proceeds. Remember that commercial? I've fallen and I can't get up!

If I wasn't what felt like a million years pregnant, I'd be wondering what in blazes and good glory was going on in my  nether regions. Since I am, I still kind of wonder but I'm told it's "normal". You all can call it whatever you want, but I'm not sure normal is the word I'd choose. Ripen. Softening. Opening. Effacing. All a bunch of terms which really mean to say, "Hang on honey, you ain't gonna like it! And no matter what your dream was, a three hour labor is not likely in your future."

I really did dream that I went into labor at 1:30am and he was born at 4:30am. I know it was me and my kid because I then remember looking down and saying, "It's a good thing you're a boy. Cuz you wouldn't make a very cute girl!" Then I woke up. For the last week when I've woken up all achy and uncomfortable I check the clock. If it's not 1:30 I know I'm not in labor.

All your 'surely to get the show on the road' suggestions don't work if you're still a week away from your due date. Not spicy food. Not walking. Not the baby dance. Nada. I know he's going to come when he's ready. My kids only show up when they are good and ready. It's not the same if they don't take their mother to the brink of losing her ever lovin' mind!

At Chipotle last night the girl at the counter asked how much longer I had. "A week. But today would be good." She then proceeded to tell me she had a baby four months ago and that she was eight days late and still needed a C-section. I wanted to hug her and soccer-punch her all the same time for sharing. Just give me my meal and don't talk to me is my general rule when out to eat. I use to wait tables, your tip is safe.

I probably need to apologize to the couple of people who have offered to help me in some way by suggesting they get it so I don't have to get up and walk. I've snarkily responded with, "Why? Cuz I might go into labor? Kind of what I'm going for here." Gap girl I'm sorry. I was mostly just frustrated that you had an additional 30% off your clearance merchandise and I didn't know what size to buy. Coming home (almost) empty handed from a sale like that would make any girl a little testy.

Pachydermata

I have the cankles of a pachyderm.

I've been doing everything they tell me to. Handfuls of supplements, gallons of tea. My husband even put me on lock down for two days where I did nothing but sit with my feet up. The first day I didn't shower. Thought I'd show him!! The second I only did in time to go out to eat for a friend's birthday. Sitting worked and I had ankles again. Then I stood up, and poof they were gone.

When I went to the midwives they asked if I was eating carbs.

Carbs? Huh? What carbs?

Oh, you mean carbohydrates?

What's a carbohydrate?

Oh, you mean the ONLY thing I want to eat right now!?!?

They were really nice about it. Nicer than I would have been with my non-compliant patients. There were no elephantiasis comments to be herd. (hehe)

"I know it's what you're craving. It's your body's way of storing up. You're about to run a marathon of sorts."

That sounds fantastic, only the last time I ran anywhere was....when was the last time I ran...?

You'd think my ears in my elephant-like form would be big enough to listen.

Crepes for breakfast. Rice pudding. A new batch of granola. Chips and salsa. I even baked bread. I used the bread for egg salad sandwiches. Eggs aren't carbs, right? Dinner might have been okay, except for the pasta salad. Dang it! Then three additional slices of bread. Double dang it!!

Things better get a move on before the transformation is complete. They have the gestation of 24 months!!! Oh, please no!

On the bright side, my P90X 'before' pictures are going to be better than yours! Way better. Ever see a pachyderm two weeks post partum?