Happy December 1st

Hope your 1st of December is extra sweet!

And as the old cliche goes:  ONLY 24 more shopping days til Christmas!

December also means that we are on the downhill slide to an end of another year.  2011 will be closing another chapter in everyone's personal book of life.  I want to cherish the memories.  The laughter.  The love.  Because in 20 years time, I don't know if I will remember the "little things" that make each day special.  And frankly, that makes me want to cry.  The kind of crying that can only make one look absolutely and dreadfully UGLY. 

So, there are also plenty of moments I don't want to remember either or for you to remember.   Like the time I had surgery.  Three surgeries, to be exact.  Just 6 weeks ago.  Three incisions.  This was so NOT elective.  I had two hernia repairs and another prolapsed something or other.  For some unknown reason, my 45 minute surgery was 180 minutes in length.   And my wakeup was not easy.  In fact, I did not want to wake up.  The recovery nurse spent five hours trying to get me to wake-up and go home.  Apparently, I had overstayed my welcome.  Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that I only slept three hours the night before surgery.  I sure was tired! 

Now that I am somewhat healed.  I ventured out on a 5K with my family.  The Turkey Trot was a great way to begin the Thanksgiving holiday -- running before a day of feasting.  It was a beautiful morning and I believe that is what the other 11,995 people were thinking too as they donned their running shoes.  The crowd!  I don't believe the streets in my city are wide enough for that many people.  Perhaps, 2000 runners wore chips to actually try and compete... while the other 10,000 runners were just there for the *fun*.

At the race's end, my darling husband and elated eldest daughter were waiting for me and my two riding littles to cross the *finish* line. 

Me:  "How did you do?"

DH:  "We did okay, but there were a lot of people to *run* around?  How was your run?"

Me:  "I don't know... WHY don't you try SHOVING 120 POUNDS UP SIX HILLS?  Oh, and did I mention that the front wheel sprung off its quick release hinge and I had to carry the wheel while balancing those 120 pounds of children and stroller?"

Other than the mishaps and the hills, it was a great run.  Luckily, the endorphins were kicked in and I was just happy!  And then the results:  My eldest placed in her age group.  I am so proud of her. 

recaps of the last six weeks

1.  The Hospital Stay 

The stay at the hospital was not what I remember from the prior two pregnancies.  I actually enjoyed the visits, and the food, and the TV, and the serenity.  This time around, not so true.  In fact, it was the worst experience EVER.  And this is probably not even the worst it is going to become once the "new health care" kicks in. 

The shifts between nurses did not TALK to each other.  Each time the shift changed, I had to explain my situation to the new incoming nurse.  Thank God I was in the maternity ward so that was a little bit self-explanatory!!  I would not have wanted to be on a different floor with an unknown situation. 

The time it took for the nurses to move me out of labor/delivery to the recovery room was HOURS.  Like 2:00am to 10:00am.  All I wanted to do was sleep and the nurse kept me awake because she kept promising to move me.  That never happened.  As did the sleep, that never happened either.

So, with ZERO sleep and within hours of delivering a baby who weighed 7 pounds of my 11 pound weight gain.  Plus the placenta.  My blood pressure stayed extremely HIGH.  Is it any wonder?  I am a nervous/anxious person without pregnancy so why is it a surprise that my blood pressure was elevated?  And WHY does the NURSE insist on taking the blood pressure when I am COMPLETELY pissed off at the SHIFT for their neglect, disorganization, and unprofessionalism. 

I held my breath during blood pressure readings.  Result:  HIGH.  I was full of anxiety.  Especially when they would take the reading and the cuff would reset itself... I knew then that the reading would be higher than normal. 

The nurse took my new baby and did not return her for HOURS.  I called the nursery every 30 minutes.  How long does it take to give her a bath?  In fact, when she was returned to me... she was still messy.

The on-call Doctor was a b***h.  She would not even give me a moment of her time.  She did not even check in on me over the next 12 hours.  She poked her head into the room ONCE... and it was to ask the nurse a question.  Where oh where is my beloved doctor???

Finally moved to the recovery room. 

OKAY, who was SICK?

Was it the person who delivered my meal from the cafeteria?  Was it the Tech or Nurse who didn't bother to show up for work the next day?  Was is the other Nurse?  Was it the other Tech?  Was it the lady who came around to educate me on State Immunizations?  Was it the chaplain from the hospital?  Oh, and why is that person here??  Was is the Lactation Consultant?  Was it the hospital photographer? 

My doctor showed up the next morning.  Thank God.  He left orders with the nurses regarding my discharge.

On my last day, the day of discharge from the hospital, the nurse nor the tech even bothered to show up for work.  Not one person followed my doctor's orders.  In fact, I did not see one person for 12 hours.  Someone finally returned my baby again.  After another 12 hours!! 

The nurse who happened to be there (just never seen) upon my discharge was more concerned with the tightness of the carseat straps than my discharge orders.  I could have had a serious blood-clot or hemorraging condition and that did not even matter compared to the carseat situation. 

I finally arrived home.  I was very happy to be in our safe, quiet haven.   I would have been in a strait jacket by morning had I had to stay one more night in the hospital.  I arrived home about 9:00pm. 

Until I woke up at 11:00pm with the FLU.  The FLU.  YES, that's right, the FLU!  Again.  This was bad.  My baby is 2 days old and I have the FLU. 

I spent the next two days in bed at home.  Trying to isolate myself from the rest of the family. 

It did NOT work.  Because my FLU transformed itself into another viral form and was passed along to daughter #1. 

Daughter #1 was rushed to the Emergency Room at 4:00am because she could not breathe.  When a child tells you that he/she cannot breathe -- there is no waiting around.  She was admitted to the same hospital I just left a week ago.  She has the CROUP.  And some Resistant Airways Disease.  My FLU gave Daughter #1 the Croup.  UGH.

Three days later, the incubation period, Daughter #2 came down with the Croup.  This time I knew what to do without going to the Emergency Room.  Luckily.  But this is so not fun!

So far, Daughter #3 is somewhat safe.  Although she has horrible nasal congestion.  And when her breathing becomes labored, we go and stand in the steamy shower for five minutes so that she can breathe.  I cannot bear to stick her head in the freezer after the steam.  So I just let the cool humidifier blow air on her.  She is just one week old at this time.  She is on the verge of becoming ILL.  So I am doing everything I can to prevent a full blown case of RSV or Croup or whatever other illness we could possibly catch. 

And three days later after Daughter #2, my mother comes down with the FLU.  The adult version of the Croup -- which is what I had. 

The only Flu escapee is my husband who was currently working out of town!!

We spent the first two weeks of baby girl #3's life -- fighting the FLU. 

The only positive aspect of this situation was that I lost all plus more baby weight in 5 days.  I packed up the maternity clothes on day 7 when I could slip into all my prepregnancy clothes.  So for me, nursing doesn't take off the baby weight  -- it was the FLU -- compliments of my hospital visit.

A Birth Story

The entire moment happened so quickly that I still cannot grasp that it currently is in the past -- by almost six weeks.  The miracle feels like yesterday. 

Our summer joke for 2010 was a reminder of the big event of 2009 on the first day of school for Victoria.  Daughter #2 unintentionally chose that day and hour -- moments before our departure to school -- to fall and cut her forehead open; requiring immediate sutures and consequently, a yellow tardy slip.  UGH.  What a memory!  Therefore, all summer we joked that the first day of school 2010 would arrive and so would BABY GIRL #3 !! 

And SHE did !!

Like an omen.  Or an "abracadabra" moment.  Or an illusion.  Or ESP.  Or telepathy.  Or witchcraft.  Or God. 

On Wednesday morning, August 11, a mommy friend from gymnastics inquired about my upcoming due date.  Although, I had only gained eleven, yup -- 11, pounds my pending due date still looked like it was two or three months away.  Like in October.  But no, I have had enough of this hot Texas heat.  I feel done.  Anyway, I sarcastically replied, "Tomorrow!  August 12th is my official due date but what baby appears on their chosen date?"  I had absolutely NO SIGNS of delivering by tomorrow.  No contractions.  No pains.  Nothing.  In fact, I had an appointment and ultrasound scheduled for August 13.  The doctor was going to pick an induction date. 

Surprise!

At 6:00pm, I took the girls for an evening swim to cool off since the temperatures were hovering in the low 100's for days.  Evenings were a crisp 95 degrees.  We swam.  We played.  We splashed.  I was growing irritated and tired.  I wanted to go inside to cool off in the 80 degree air-conditioning. 

At 7:45pm, we finally retreated to the air-conditioning.  The girls were getting ready for bedtime.  My husband had just arrived home from work.  Without his wedding band.  Another story, his side, for another time.  Fortunately, I was fatigued. 

At 8:00pm, I started to question my 6 bathroom trips (in the past 15 minutes) ... surely I did not ingest that much pool water.  I haven't had a glass of water since 6:00.  What is going on??  

At 8:05pm, I hunt my mother down as I am gushing water.  My two prior pregnancies resulted in scheduled inductions.  I had never gone into natural labor before.  My water has only been broken by my doctor while lying in the delivery room.  I ask my mother what she thinks is going on.  She thinks my water is broke.  But where is the plug?  Where is the other stuff?  Where is the bloody show?  Where are the contractions?  I don't bloody know (or care) because I didn't have any warning sign at all !!

Of course, I am NOT ready... I have been procrastinating!  I had all of my hospital supplies in a general gathering area.  But nothing was organized or packed. 

So what do I do?

At 8:15pm, I advise my bandless husband to pack a bag for himself because I think my water has busted.  By now, I am quite sure because I am in the bathroom every 30 seconds.  The girls are crying in panic ... Victoria because her first day of school is in the morning.  That is one thing I do have ready!!  And Petra is crying because her big sister is crying. 

I jump in the shower to rinse off the chlorine, SPF 50 and Cutter OFF.  I even blow dry my hair and throw in some hot rollers.  Because, damn it, these hospital photos are going to be "CUTE".  The photos with baby #2 are hideous because I was vomitting until she graced us with her presence!  So, in reality, I do not have photos of delivery #2. 

After showering, I prepare my "hospital favors".  My mother keeps humming (or it is possibly a hissing sound) under her breath that I should probably get to the hospital.  I did not have any contractions yet and I reminded her that I have 23 more hours to deliver a baby due to the broken amniotic sac.  But my goal was to be at the hospital by 10:00pm.

By 9:30pm, I am finally getting around to "packing" my bags.  The ones that should have been packed last month.  And the contractions start.  Ooooh, seems like they are coming quite frequently, not the 20 minutes or 15 minutes apart -- more like every 10 minutes.  A hard one.  A soft one.  A hard one.  A soft one. 

At 9:48pm, we depart.  The hospital is only a 6 minute drive at night.  We finally get to drive the hospital route that we mapped out eight years ago (for baby #1).  The front doors are still open but they will lock at 10:00pm and then we would have to arrive at the Emergency Room Entrance and walk to the other side of the hospital.  And who wants to do that?  Besides, I have to stop every three and a half minutes because the contractions are coming fast and hard. 

At 10:10pm, we arrive on the second floor in the labor/delivery area.  We are shown to a room and I am told to get into bed.  It feels much better standing and walking then lying in bed with back pain and contractions.  A nurse arrives at 10:30pm to check my progress.  I am hooked up to monitors and my blood pressure is climbing.  Contractions still every 3 minutes... and dilation is 6. 

At 11:00pm, dilation is 7. 

At 11:30pm, dilation is 8, the doctor has been called but he won't arrive for another 30 minutes.  (Something about delivering another baby via c-section).  So the nurse brings me Demerol.  The pain meds flow into the IV.  Ahhh.  Don't know how or why... but I fall asleep.  Into a deep sleep.  Like a weird dream state of sleep -- the kind of weird dreams you have when you eat too much before bed.  So, I believe this dream was the result of too much Demerol before bed.  I was in a foreign market with winding alleys and ... I have had this dream before.  I just cannot figure out where I am.  Or IF I have been there before.  I know it so well...

Anyway, sleep.

At 12:30am, the nurse tries to wake me.  My eyes are glued tightly shut.

At 1:00am, the nurse returns and I still cannot manage to open my eyes.

At 1:10am, the nurse is still hovering over my head demanding that I wake up.  God, I make a bad drunk (or is it a cheap drunk?).  I was slurring my words.  That demerol is some strong shit.  I haven't been that drunk since July 9th, 1988.  (Another story for another time-- it's the day I stopped drinking.  Seriously.)

Nurse:  "You need to PUSH"! 

Me:  "Push what?" 

Nurse:  "It's time to PUSH".

Me:  "I didn't push your call button, I am sleeping here."

Nurse:  "The doctor is here."

Me:  "Husband, are you awake?  Can you bring the camera?  They want me to push -- something about  having a baby now."

Nurse:  "Let's go!"

Me:  "I'm really tired -- can you just pull her out?"

Nurse:  "Push, I said."

Me:  "No, really, can you just use some forceps or something?"

Nurse:  "NOW"

Me:  One push.

Nurse:  "Another one."

Me:  "Is she out?"

Nurse:  "NOW"

Me:  Second push.

Me:  "Does she have hair?"

Nurse:  "Another one."

Me:  "Just pull her the rest of the way. I want to go back to bed."

Nurse:  "NOW"

Me:  Third push.

Me:  "Are we done?"

Nurse:  makes this guffallowing sound.  {yes, I made that word up... but that is what it sounded like to me}

Me:  "I'd like to go back to bed now".

INTRODUCING:

Alexandra Pearl

12 August 2010

1:27 am

7 pounds, 7 ounces

20 inches

PS        Pearl (or Perle) is a French Family name ... my grandmother.  And my other grandmother and special great aunt share a name that has the meaning "Pearl".  

PPS      My blood pressure remains a medical issue... pregnancy-induced hypertension.

PPPS    Baby is healthy

PPPPS  Husband was home for the birth of baby girl #3.  However, he did leave four days later and worked out of state for the following two work weeks. 

A New Guiness Record, I'm Sure

My youngest child, to date, was born with two left feet.  A miracle occured when she began walking at ten months old.  How is that possible with two left feet? 

Last week, we set a new record.  We visited our local hospital's ER two times.  Twice.  2X.  In 5 days.  5 short days.  Once on Saturday.  Once on Thursday.

On Saturday, little T was playing at the park.  A fun park.  She was climbing up the ladder to slide down the chute.  The ladder was metal, of course.  Along came a cute, unleashed puppy (which I think is illegal - the unleashed part - in a public place) and our little one became distracted.  Watching the puppy, little one lost her balance and fell three steps down the ladder.  Unfortunately, it was in slow motion.  And nothing could be done to prevent the fall.  She caught herself - but it was one step too late.  And her chin caught the step first.  1.  A chin laceration.  Scooping up little one, we drove erratically to the ER.

On Thursday, little T had had no nap.  So by 4pm, she was extremely tired and clumsy.  The old cliche, no sleep makes me off-balance; and that is exactly what happened.  Big sister and little sister were playing in the playroom.  Big sister was tickling little sister in their daily romp of sisterly love.  Little sister, again, lost her balance and down she slipped.  Unfortunately, little one landed on a wooden toy.  2.  Eyebrow Laceration.  Scooping up little one, grabbing towels and ice, we drove back to the ER.  We called darling worried husband along the way to break the news to him. 

With two wounds bandaged up, we have padded our home with bubble wrap. 
Please, God, do you have a cure for clumsiness?