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.

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.

I have two real honest to goodness posts that I need to make.  But because I can’t be bothered with it, I’ll put up a quickie for you all instead.

Last night I dreamt.  I really hate it when this happens, typically.  I dreamt that I woke up with both my son and my husband in bed beaming at me.  I asked what was going on and Aaron told me, “You had the baby in your sleep.  All by yourself, and you didn’t even wake up!  She was so beautiful!”

I found it odd that he used the the past tense so I commented on it.  He looked embarrassed and admitted that he had called the doctor.  “You were asleep and I didn’t know what to do.  I knew she was still kind of early.  They asked if the umbilical cord was still attached and when I said yes they told me to put her back in.  Walked me through it and everything.”

I nearly killed him.  He then went gushing on about how pretty she was and how she was already so big.  He couldn’t wait for me to meet her.  I started crying and then I woke up.  I was still kind of pissed at him when I was awake, and had to remind myself that this was only a dream.

I am so done with this.

I got my tummy made all pretty!

I remember not long after having Ashton seeing a website with several pregnant women with henna on their tummies.  I cursed myself for not thinking of doing it, and swore up and down that with my next pregnancy that I would have it done.  I brought this up to a friend of mine who said she would do it for me, and so it was agreed that next time I became pregnant, she would henna my belly.  I wanted it toward the end of my pregnancy, so July seemed like the logical time to get it done.  So we set a date, and I ordered the supplies.  On Saturday she came over.

Sadly, because I have no idea what I’m doing and have never done any henna work outside of my friends hair, I had no idea how long it should set before we used it.  I thought a couple of hours would suffice, but was told afterwards that 12 was a much safer amount of time.  So Jessamyn’s amazing artwork was rather light colored when all was said and done.  Regardless, she did an amazing job.

That evening we went to Aaron’s parents’ house for his sister’s birthday party.  Everyone loved the henna work, but we noticed as it was flaking off that it was, in fact, going to be too light a color (as I said before).  So when we got home we got the left over henna out of the freezer, and set it out for the next day.  Sunday afternoon after we finished up at the grocrey store, Aaron took the bag and traced over Jessie’s design.  Thankfully he did a great job, and the henna was considerably darker this time.

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.

My mother has been in town since Monday helping me out getting the nursery ready.  We got a few things done, went on a few shopping trips, and got all of Ashton’s clothes all boxed up and ready to be given away.  It was wonderful having her here.  The best bit was when she first arrived.  Ash greeted her with open arms, then immediately looked past her and demanded to know where Grandpa Dude was.  That made her feel all warm and fuzzy.

Friday night we skipped the usual TV fest and went to Arlington where they were having a festival for the fourth of July, only they did it on the night of the third.  Aaron had to be out in that area anyway to reserve the family’s “spot” for the parade (a long standing tradition.  Aaron and his father and usually a few cousins spend the night on the sidewalk so we have the best seats for the parade the next morning) and the rest of us dragged picnic munchies and chairs out and hung out at the festival.  It was well done, they had free bounce houses, a cute little petting zoo, and lots of other activities.  There were free concerts at the pavillion, including the headliner for the evening, Fastball.  As soon as I remembered why I knew that name (shut up, I’m pregnant) I was very excited to see them live.   I was also surprised to learn that I knew more than just one of their songs!

The pavillion has a really pretty fountain that the kids played in.  Ash got to run around in it, and because I didn’t think to pack any swimmer diapers, we just had him in a regualr pullup.  So by the time he was done playing (rather, we were done with him playing) his pants were desperatly trying to fall off, and he was running around with one hand holding them up at all times.  It was funny as all hell.

They put on a fireworks dispaly during Fastball’s intermission.  It wasn’t the most amazing display I’ve ever seen, but it was nice.  Ash had a good time, family seemed to have a good time, and Lissa had a great time, so to say a good time was had by all is a bit reduntant.

The next day we saw the parade, which was fun.  We went home and relaxed (and Aaron washed the street off because WHEW!) and ate lunch.  Dad made it into town so we got to visit with him for a bit.  Then we went to Judy’s for early dinner, and headed from there to get ready for fireworks that night.  We watch the fireworks in Bedford (because that’s where we live, duh) and join friends of ours at Isis Studios because it’s a great place to watch from!  Charles and Zoe met us there, and there were a few kids, all between the ages of 2 and 4, so they all kept pretty entertained.  The fireworks were wonderful, and by the time they were over I was ready to pass out.  Ash went right to sleep after bath, so we must have worn him out as well.

Mom and Dad packed up themselves and Ashton this morning and headed out.  Mom and I usually take a summer trip to visit Oklahoma family, but this year I can’t travel.  So Mom and Dad are going to take Ash up there to see everyone.  My little boy is going to be gone for four whole nights.  They’ll come home Thursday and I’m really not sure how to feel about that.  On the one hand it will be relaxing to not have to keep up with him for a week, but on the other hand I’m gonna miss my little boy.  We’ll see how it goes.

I’m sure he’ll have a blast.

Hey look!  A blog!  And it’s got my name on it and everything!  It’s like it’s mine or something.

Well shit.

I’ll be back soon.  I’m sure I have stuff to tell you, but I can’t for the life of me think of what it is.  Also, I’m not really coherent enough to actually tell you any stories anyway.  So… yeah.  Nothing to say, and not intelligible enough to say it if I did have something.  Which I don’t.  Really.

Wait… my mommy is in town helping me out this week.  She’ll take Ash up to Oklahoma next week so everyone can see him (they probably won’t get to at Christmas because I won’t want to travel with a new baby.  Plus the two of us usually take a trip up there in the summer anyway) So that’s something, right?

Oh, and I danced last weekend.  There are pictures.  It’s embarrassing.

I should probably go to bed now.

Ok, I already have a boy.  I know what to do with a boy.  I’ve got the boy thing mostly figured out.  I don’t understand him… but I can mostly handel him.  Boys should not present any problem.  On that note…

What the hell am I suposed to do with a girl?

Yes, I know, it wouldn’t have mattered what the gender was.  They would have been completly different anyway.  The problem with kids is none of them follow the blinkin rules.  The “experts” come out and say all this stuff, and I’ve never met a kid that followed any of it.

Maybe it’s because kids can’t read yet.

So… there you have it.  Ladies and Gentelmen, I would like to introduce everyone to Anwyn Renea Thomas.  I will try to scan the sono photos soon so I can get them onto flickr.

I love hearing small children talk.  The way they attempt to figure out how words go together is wonderful.

Ashton was in the living room playing Spyro.  I can see him with no problem from my spot at the desk, so I decided to leave him to it and come fart around on the internet for a few minutes.  He came to the door of the office and asked “Why aren’t you out here?”

“Because I’m in here, sweetie.”

He looked a little frustrated at this.  After a few moments he said “Get out of…” thinking hard about the best way to put what he thought into words he decided on “not out here.”

Get out of not out here.  I love it.

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.