The O.R.

This could take a while to get through.  I guess I’ll just have to do it in installations.

Our O.R. nurse what a blast.  While I was in triage she cracked jokes with us, was hyper and silly as hell.  She kept telling us how much fun we were, and how most people were no fun at that hour.  I would have told her that I’m usually no fun when I’m woken up early, but since I never went to sleep it didn’t seem to be a problem.  I wasn’t even getting hungry, thanks to Dad’s nifty little super seed.

(BTW, they were chia seeds.  Yes, chia as in chia pets.  The seeds are apparently really good at helping you release sugars slowly, and are even better for you than flax seeds.)

When the labor and delivery nurse came in to talk to our OR nurse, our nurse made faces behind her back and rolled her eyes.  She was apparently not a fan of hers, and didn’t make any attempt to hide it from us, which made me like her even more.  The anesthesiologist came in to let me know what was going on, and exactly what he was going to do when we got into the OR.  He was so much nicer and calmer than the doctor I had when I had Ashton (and considerably younger, and a bit cuter).  Then they wheeled me into the room.

My sunny and bubbly disposition vanished.  I instantly began shaking violently.  They kept telling me it was cold in there, which I could feel was the case, but I knew I was terrified.  They got me on the table, numbed me from the waist down, and laid me down on the table to prepare for surgery.  Aaron could see through the window the needle that they put in my back.  Thankfully, I could not.  From the way he described it, I would have had an instant panic attack.

The music was an interesting mix of country from every decade, 80’s pop, and some more recent top 40 hits.  When Madonna’s Vogue came on, one of the nurses commented that she was unfamiliar with the song.  The others in the room where shocked to hear this, and talked about going out dancing to this song.  Jokes were made about my OB being a dancer and he declared that he was a disco king.  Everyone started laughing and I commented that I didn’t want to know what was happening on the other side of the sheet (they had the sheet up at this point, but had not actually started surgery yet).  For my benefit, my doctor came over to where I could see him, and struck his disco pose once more.

They let Aaron in the room, and got started working on me.  Most of it becomes a blur at this point.  I remember smelling burning flesh (I had a tubal while they did the cesarian section) and I remember feeling lots of pressure as they pushed her down (she was still sitting pretty high).  The only moment during the surgery that I remember was hearing the words “the gay-dar really worked on that one.”  Thinking this was an odd statement I asked what they were talking about.  (Actually I asked if I had actually just heard the word gay-dar).  They all laughed and told me that they were talking about American Idol, while they were cutting me open.  Seriously, I’m not sure how I’ll ever take my OB-GYN seriously ever again.

The nurse standing next to me smiled and told me she was out.  All I could think (and apparently say) was “Cry, cry, cry, come on cry, please cry.”  I needed to hear her voice and know she was ok.  Finally, once they got her airway cleared, she let out a very loud and healthy cry.  And I cried, and then I threw up.  I’m pretty sure those things weren’t related, just happened close to each-other.  My anesthesiologist tried desperately to give me anti-nausea meds, but nothing worked.  I was going to be sick whether they liked it or not.

They quickly finished up, I felt lots more pressure, and they wheeled both me and our new little bundle of angry to my recovery room.  As soon as she was out of the womb she was rooting (between screams) so I was able to nurse her right away.

Long Overdue

So…

Yeah I’m still here.  I’m still alive.  Life with a newborn and a toddler is really exciting.  And by exciting I mean exhausting.  And miserable.  And totally sleep deprived.  Basically, I’m begging you to forgive me for totally blowing you all off when you were patiently waiting for me to tell you all about having our baby.  Please?

So the basics… Anwyn Renea was born August 31, at 8:03 am.  She weighed 5 lbs. 5 ozs. and was 19 inches long.

We had to go in for pre-op on Friday.  They basically got all my paperwork done, and drew all of the blood that they needed.  This would apparently take two people, three needles, three needle holes, and a whole lot of arguing with my veins to cooperate to get done.  For some reason my body refused to bleed for them.  I usually bleed really easily, so this was strange.

There was a couple in there when we arrived.  A young girl (late teens, I think?  Maybe 20) who was not yet 30 weeks, and was a first timer.  She was told that what she was feeling was normal, but not labor.  I remember being that far along with Ashton and reading everything possible about any discomfort I felt.  Every little thing meant a trip to the computer or the considerable amount of reading material my Dr gave me when I first came in.  I always knew the answer to every feeling I had.

Later when we were filling out paper work another couple came in (yet again, expecting their first).  It turns out her water had broken.  She made certain to tell the nurses that this was her first pregnancy so she wasn’t sure if she was going into labor or not.   It was kind of cute seeing her there, trying to remain calm and collected.  She answered all of their questions clearly, and had the feeling of someone who was on top of everything.  Her husband (I’m guessing) had the most terrified stare on his face.  He looked completly lost.  When we got back into the car Aaron and I talked about them, and how the roller coaster was just starting for them.  We talked about the first time we went through this, and how much like that couple we were (only I wasn’t at all collected.  I completely checked out when they talked about inducing).  This time was so different, so calm, so organized.  It promised to be a very different experience from the first time.

Sunday night I ate like a freaking queen.  Mom spoiled me with nice cuts of meat, and an awesome meal.  Dad went and got me a special seed that would help me keep my energy up the next day since I couldn’t eat anything.  Aaron made me biscuits (which I finished all of) around 11:00 pm.  Then I went to bed and didn’t sleep a wink.  The next morning we had to be at the hospital before 6:00 am.  Those of you who know me well or have ever seen me in the morning can imagine how well that went.  But it wasn’t too bad, the seeds Dad had fed me did the trick, and I was bubbly and energetic up until they wheeled me into the O.R.

Silly Conversations

Aaron’s reaction to losing an argument: “Oh yeah?  Well you’re just still upset that a house fell on your sister.”

I was a little confused and disturbed about this statement.  So I responded with, “So I’m Elphaba now?  Maybe I should be mad that someone dropped a house on my sister.  Or more importantly, maybe I’m upset that someone used my sisters tragic demise to try to gain a political foothold and enslave and manipulate my people.  Did you ever think of that?  Maybe I’m just frustrated and tired of being profiled because I have an unfortunate skin condition and a severe allergic reaction to water.  And maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little grumpy too.  I’m not a wicked witch, I’M A POLITICAL ACTIVIST!!!”

Aaron just stared at me for a few minutes.  “You know?” he finally said, “That insult was a whole lot funnier before Wicked came out.”

Later on, Aaron was playing this zombie game that he’s found online.  I was ready to start another episode of Dexter, and I was waiting on him.

“Are you in there shooting zombies again?  That’s just so rude.”

“What?  I’m just sitting in my house, chilling, and these zombies come banging my door down!  What am I supposed to do?”

“You don’t even give them a chance!  You have no idea what it is they need.”

“They’re banging down my door!”

“And your automatic response is to shoot them.  You don’t even try to talk to them, do you?  Didn’t even occur to you, did it?”

*Stares in disbelief for a few seconds* “I’m just sitting there and they come banging down my door and come at me and I’m all like ‘Whoa, guys, lets talk about this’ and they keep coming and I’m all ‘look back up and lets talk or I’ll have to shoot’ and they don’t and so I have to shoot them.  It’s not like I want to.”

“Well, maybe it’s just a language barrier.  You simply don’t understand each other and you aren’t even willing to try!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak “Uuungh!”

Yeah.  That’s how my night has been.

There was another funny conversation in there somewhere, but I don’t remember it.  Maybe I’ll tweet it later.

The Big Bad Fall

Friday was a bad day.  Aaron and I had a rather significant disagreement; I had a bad pregnancy, over emotional day; and Ashton had to have his head glued back together.

Aaron went to a baseball game Friday night.  Ashton was supposed to go with him, but things didn’t work out, there were communication issues, and basically the whole thing left me rather peeved.  Aaron had not been home to spend time (other than dinner) with Ash since Tuesday, and… well… see the previous overemotional pregnancy statement.  I was unhappy.

So, around 4:30 Ashton was being a little crazy and wired and running in circles around the living room.  Well, he lost his balance (as toddlers do) and managed to put his head into the corner brick of the fire place.  I saw the fall, but didn’t quite register what had happened.  When he started crying he looked fine, so I told him to come to me and comforted him for a second.  When his crying only got worse I pulled back to take a look and that’s when I panicked.

The side of his face was covered in blood.  My shoulder was covered in blood.  The couch still has a few spots of blood that I didn’t get out.  I took him to the bathroom to get him cleaned up (hyperventilating the whole way) and finally managed to see the cut.  It was deep as hell and I was afraid he would need stitches, but I didn’t want to go to the emergency room unless I was certain, because that’s really really expensive.  I called Aaron and luckily he was close to the house (having left work  early to meet his dad for the game).   He swung by the house, took a look at his son’s bleeding forehead, which had slowed considerably, and declared that we probably ought to go to a doctor.  I always had the mindset that stitches = hospital, but Aaron had another idea.

We discovered that the CareNow clinic down the road from us is awesome!  For any little emergency like this I will certainly be using them in the future.  Seeing as how my son is fearless and insane, I can only pray that it won’t be too often.  They checked him out, cleaned him up, and used some kind of bonding agent on his wound.  He wasn’t happy about the whole thing, but he behaved wonderfully, all things considered.  He didn’t struggle too much, and he only cried toward the end of the visit when he was just tired of being held still.  They gave him stickers (which are apparently the way to his heart these days) and told us to come back in a few days for a follow up.  Aaron, having done all he could do, gave Ashton a kiss and went on his way to meet the rest of his entire family for the ball game .  (I know, right?)   Lissa came over and we watched tv, ate ice cream, and bitched about how much men suck.

The next day Aaron felt that we should have a family day.  Considering the looks he got when he arrived home the night before, I’m surprised he wanted to be anywhere near me, but I didn’t argue.  The plan was to check out the King Tut exhibit at the Dallas Art Museum.  We got there, payed $10 to park, and got in line for tickets.  The next available showing wasn’t until 6:30, and somehow the idea of waiting until then just didn’t appeal (it was only about 12:30).  We wondered about what we could do instead (having already payed for parking) and remembered that the Dallas World Aquarium was down the road a piece.  So after a nice long walk, we went to one of the best indoor zoological exhibits I’ve ever been to.

Deciding that the day was going to be all about Ashton, we also went over to Gamestop to get him his own game.  He has discovered the game systems, and the game Aaron’s been playing lately is Grand Theft Auto.  We were both disturbed one morning when we were getting ready and heard gun shots coming from the living room.  It was then that we decided that he should probably have access to a more child friendly game.  So we went and picked up Spyro, which he doesn’t really have the hang of, but he can make it do some stuff and that’s enough to entertain him for a few minutes at a time.  He still tries to play GTA but we keep putting it away higher and higher.  We’re seriously considering finally getting a Wii.

I have pictures of the glued cut on his forehead that we took today, but I can’t seem to find the cable that hooks the camera to the computer, so I can’t download anything.  Which sucks, because I have pictures to put on flickr and there’s nothing I can do about it and I’m sad now.

UPDATE:  OK so I found the cable that attaches to the camera exactly where I had left it.  Apparently it’s a magic disappearing cable, because I looked in that spot several times and it wasn’t there, but when Aaron looked he found it right away.  I told him it was magic and that it had been hiding from me and he just gave me one of those looks that says that he thinks I’m pregnant and insane.  So… the link to our flickr is down at the bottom of the side bar.  Go check out my poor little boy and his ouchie.

Monkey On His Back

So I finally decided to break down and get a harness buddy for my insanely active toddler.  We were at World Market getting some new chairs for the dining room (as an anniversary gift to ourselves) and there happened to be a Target next door.  While Aaron was helping them load stuff into the car, I went next door with Ashton to see if they had what we were looking for.  I had originally looked at a monkey, because that seemed insanely fitting for my son.  All they had were bears, and I knew that if I went anywhere this weekend, I would want this thing.  So I tried to convince him that a bear would be awesome.

I handed him the bear and, with my best excited voice, asked him,”Isn’t this a cute bear Ashton?”

“Yeah,” was his response.  He took the bear from me and tried hugging it a few times.  Feeling optimistic, I asked if we should take Mr. Bear home.  “No.”  And Mr. Bear found himself being thrown from the cart and onto the floor.

I picked up the bear and tried again, this time with all of the enthusiasm I could muster.  I got the exact same (if a little more annoyed) reaction.  This went on a few more times.  I decided to wander around to see if I could get someone to help.  Maybe they had monkeys somewhere and I was just blind.  I didn’t find anyone to help, but I did find my husband coming to find us.  “Did they not have it?”  He asked.

“They didn’t have the monkey, but they have a bear.”

“Did you have your heart set on a monkey?”

So I took him to the bears and showed him the delightful reaction I got when trying to force the bear on our fickle child.

“Ashton, look at the really cute bear!  Don’t you want to take the bear home?”

“No.”

“Well, what if we just put the bear in the basket.  How about that?”

“NO!” And he reached into the basket and threw the bear as hard as he could.  By now Aaron got the idea and agreed that we should at least ask if they had any monkeys.  We headed up to customer service and were “helped” by a lady who not only had no idea what we were talking about, but I’m pretty sure had no idea what she was doing.  She looked up something and started talking about colors and sizes and how she didn’t see any different patterns.  I looked at her blankly and declared, “It’s a stuffed animal!”  I might have yelled that last bit because she gave me a somewhat worried look.  Aaron thanked her for her help (if that’s what you could call it) and led me out of the store.

We hit another Target on the way home. By then the other child (aka parasite) had been using my bladder as a punching bag and I couldn’t stand it anymore.  I ran into the bathroom as Aaron took Ash to find a monkey.  As I walked toward the kids section, I saw Aaron walking back with what looked like an empty cart.  My heart sank.  Did they not have monkeys either?  Did he have the exact same reaction?  Was this stupid idea not going to work?

The reason I couldn’t see the monkey was that it was in my son’s demanding hands.  He was trying to tear it out of the box by the time I reached them, and we had to ask the cashier to cut it out for him.

He wears the silly thing around the house and tells you all about his back pack.  Constantly.  We have yet to use the “tail”, but he’s so happy wearing the silly thing that I think it will be ok.  I guess we’ll find out.

We’ve Done it Again

So my bestest friend Lissa and I have started a video blog.  The very first episode will go up tomorrow, at some point.  If I can find out what time she wants to put it up I’ll start a count down on twitter or something.

Basically it’s the two of us acting like we’re being tacky and catty bitches.  So a standard Friday night for us.  We’re hoping that other people think it’s as funny as we do, but who knows.  So far it seems to be the main segment (whatever main thing we’re doing that week), some footage of Aaron doing whatever he wants, and Twitter Time.  Twitter time is where we answer questions or take requests from Twitter.  This started because of someone named Josh Cagan* asking us about donkey punching.  Really, watch the episode tomorrow and you’ll understand.

So you can find this amazing train wreck over at Oh My God Friday.**

I will be adding it to my blog roll list so it will be easy for everyone to find.  Check us out.  Give us your support.  Tell us when we’re being stupid.  Give us ideas to talk about.  And for the love of God feed our desperate need for attention!!! (We’re a little silly)

*Look!  Bold print!  That means you should click on it!

** Bold means click.  And you should check us out.  Really.  We’re funny.  We laugh all the time.

A Trip to Austin

A few weeks ago we went to Austin to visit my folks.  Yes I know, I should have written a blog entry about it as soon as we got home.  Well, I’m forgetful and lazy, so you can just bite me.

We decided to head out the night of Friday the 13, because Aaron would rather get there tired then get up early and start the drive tired.  This was the first weekend of many spring breaks around Texas.  It was also close to the beginning of South by SouthWest.  Needless to say, there were a whole lot of people headed into or around Austin that night.  Traffic was insanely stupid, a bit wet, and I think we waded into the traffic of at least a couple of accidents along the way.  Not to mention that we were trying to leave DFW on a Friday night at the tail end of rush hour.  Fun times.

Somewhere around 10:30 we got there.  Ashton was still awake (which I couldn’t believe.  I was sure he’d pass out around 9) so getting him to sleep now that we were somewhere exciting and new was fun.  He got to spend all three nights that we were there in my parents room, because their guest room has room for the Murphy bed and that’s about it.

Saturday Mom and I went shopping.  Dad and Aaron stayed home with Ashton and played video games.  They might have gone out and done something, but I truly don’t remember.  Mom and I got some new maternity pants (yay I have jeans!) and a few extra shirts.  Most of the shirts that I already owned were tank tops, so the t-shirts we found on sale at Motherhood Maternity were a major find.  We also grabbed a few new outfits for Ashton(of course), including something for his Easter pictures.

Sunday we went to brunch and then to the children’s museum in down town.  We had to walk around the area that held SXSW and noticed a severe lack of small children.  Lots of people were sitting around with computers in their laps, and we had to work hard to restrain Ashton from attacking them.  He loves computers.

The museum was… exciting.  All the loud and hyper kids!  Ashton discovered that he loves trains now, something we weren’t really aware of.  He ran himself ragged and finally fell asleep in the car not long before we got back to the house.  That evening we went out for burgers (to a really cool spot right on the water of the lake) and went for a walk.  The area my parents live in has lots of natural parks and beautiful scenery.  It had been raining so Ashton got COVERED in mud.  Fun times.

Getting him to bed any night that we were there was not a fun adventure.  He wanted to come see what we were doing, go play on his Grandma’s keyboard, or generally run up and down the stairs some more.  Monday we headed home.  Mom and Dad followed us to Waco, and Ashton got to ride with them.  We stopped off at the zoo and spent about 2 1/2 hours wandering around.  The car seat was returned to our car and we parted ways.  The kid was out like a light before we got to West.  He woke up about 20 minutes before we pulled into our driveway, so our drive home was rather peaceful.

You can probably expect another entry about local events soon (maybe even today).  This seems long enough for one post.

St. Patrick’s Day Story

We went to Austin this weekend and had a wonderful and exhausting time with my folks, and I will be happy to give you a play by play… later.  For now I have a story to share.

A few years ago Dallas stopped doing their St. Patrick’s Day parade.  Isis and her dancers would dance in it every year, and the last time they did it was my first and last St. Patrick’s Day parade to be in.  I was sad that they didn’t continue it, because it was a lot of fun.  The parade was filled with some fantastic acts, dancers and musicians alike, and I think everyone really enjoyed it.   The next year we heard that Fort Worth would be putting on a parade for the day of green, so we decided to check it out.

It was probably one of the more offensive parades that I’ve ever seen.  Admittedly, there wasn’t much that was Irish about it.  Mostly it was a parade of people riding horses through the street wearing green.  Now, I understand that this was in the Stock Yards, but some other representation would have been nice.  While this was all rather boring after a while, it wasn’t that insulting.  That was right at the very beginning.  The entire parade opened with a gentleman wearing a red kilt.  With a bagpipe.  Playing Scotland the Brave.

If you don’t know why this would or could offend someone, then I’m not going to explain it to you.  I would suggest you go read up on Irish history.  Pay special attention to the bit about their loving relationships with the Scottish.

Edit:  There used to be a family friendly parade that went through part of downtown Dallas.  This is not to be confused with the “parade” that happens at night on Greenville Ave.  This is more of a block party and for adults only.

Body Works

On December 29 I was feeling a little bit odd.  I was two days away from my period and something just didn’t feel right.  I honestly have no idea why, or what this feeling was, but something in the back of my mind told me that all was not normal.  We had a rather large night coming up (January 31) and I wanted to make sure I didn’t do anything that I would later regret, so out of curiosity I went to the bathroom, dug out a pregnancy test that had been there a few months (from the last time I thought I was pregnant, probably around August) and proceeded to… well… if you don’t know how they work then I’m not about to explain it to you.

Because I’m insanely impatient I watched the moisture creep along the test and watched as the lines appeared.  This was the kind that shows a blue plus sign, but it was extremely faint.  I genuinely had no idea whether this was a positive result or not.  So, after fretting for a while, I went to the drug store and got another two pack.  I considered getting the digital one, but it’s expensive and I’d only want to spend that kind of money if I was 90% sure I was pregnant (which seems kind of silly).  Because I was only about 75% (and even that might have been a bit high) I got a simpler brand.  This was the kind that showed two pink lines, and to me seemed like it would be easier to read.  I did my thing, waited, and again saw one strong line and one faint one.  This time it was slightly easier to read, but not by much.

I bounced for the rest of the day, and when Aaron came home I told him that I probably wouldn’t be able to drink at the party later that week.  And then I fell into a fit of giggles.  And cried a little.  I told him I still wasn’t 100% sure since I hadn’t gotten a dark line from any test.  He told me to wait two days and use the last one.  I waited one (see? impatient) and still got a much darker line.  I now had three test that all said the same thing, and a period that didn’t look like it was going to start anytime soon.

I made an appointment that week to see the Doctor, and a week later I had an appointment.  On Wednesday I saw the nurse and got all my blood work done.  I made plans to see the Doctor on Friday.  Thursday is when things went bad.  My body seized up and made it impossible to move.  Everything hurt, and I was terrified that things were going wrong.  Aaron came home for a few hours, because I couldn’t move, and I called the Doctor’s office to get advice.  There was no blood, so they weren’t worried (they were going to see me the next day anyway).  If I started to bleed heavily I needed to go to the hospital, but otherwise I should just take it easy.  The pain passed and I never got anything other than brown spotting, and I went in the next day.  They did a sono and couldn’t find a heart beat, but it was still too early to tell.

Over the next four weeks I bled off and on, panicked a few times because I was certain that I would lose the baby, and finally after one particularly bad night had my visit moved up a week.  They did a sono, found a perfectly strong heart beat, and the cause of all my bleeding.  Not far from the baby is a… mass.  The Doctor had a few theories about what it was, and none of them are life threatening or dangerous to me or the baby, but whatever it is it was hemorrhaging.  So I have to take it extra easy for the next few weeks and try to not lift anything heavy or do any really strenuous activity with, um, that part of my body.  Which puts belly dance right out the window.

So if anyone wants to come over during the week and help me out with the toddler that I’m not supposed to pick up, that would be wonderful!

Toddlers and Grief

Living with a toddler can be similar to the grieving process at times.  This hadn’t occurred to me until today when I was trying to get him to take a nap.  The only issue is that you have a tendency to go back and forth through the steps instead of hitting one at a time and then moving on.  It’s exciting.

Denial – “This can’t be my child.  My child was an amazing, smart, and well behaved kid.  This child showed up a few months ago and is making our lives miserable.  He’s evil, EVIL!  He screams like a banshee and demands everything and gets into things and is trying to destroy the house.  It’s our job to keep him safe, but he insists on spending several hours a day attempting to kill himself with these dare devil acts.  This can’t be the same kid!”

Anger – “SO HELP ME CHILD IF YOU DON”T STOP ACTING LIKE THIS I WILL LOCK YOU IN YOUR ROOM UNTIL YOU”RE 30!”*

Bargaining – “Listen baby.  If you stay in bed and take a nap like a good boy, we can watch Monsters (Monster Inc) when you get up.  Do you want to watch Monsters?  Well you have to be a very good boy and stay in bed.  If you get out of bed you’ll get in trouble and Mommy doesn’t want to be mean anymore.  So go to bed, and we can watch Monsters when you get up because you’ve been a good boy.”

Depression** – “My life is over and I’ll never get to watch a movie again that isn’t Toy Story, Monsters Inc, or Little Einstein and I’m losing my mind and I know all of the songs and dialog from these movies by heart.  My house is a pit and I never get a chance to clean and I havn’t gotten dressed in two days and I want to go to the bathroom ALL BY MY SELF JUST ONCE!”

Acceptance – “Honey?  Yeah it’s your wife.  Call your parents and see if  we can pawn off the demon monkey*** for a night and do something that doesn’t involve crayons play dough or cartoons.  I’ve given up wanting to spend quality time with him, I want quality time without him.  Thanks love!”

*No I would not lock my kid in his room until he’s 30.  But that’s not to say that the thought has never entered my mind

** I am not actually depressed. or suffering any actual grief.  I’m just exhausted.

*** Yes we do call him demon monkey sometimes.  What?