Kathryn's plight

I interrupt my usual snarky banter with something important.
Please keep this girl, her family, and those tasked with her medical care in your thoughts and prayers, as they embark on a long journey. After many days and nights of searching for an answer to the problem, she has been given a diagnosis. And it's a heartbreaking situation.

http://catholichusband.wordpress.com/2013/12/31/kathryn-gets-a-horrific-diagnosis-and-needs-a-miracle/

Turkeys have their own mind

So  I left off with a reblog of the mom who summed up the sentiments I was feeling at the time. I was a watched pot and hating it. Don't make any pregnant woman feel like a watched pot. It's horrible, and incredibly frustrating. Not to mention, it's pretty darn RUDE. (queue Michelle Tanner's "how ruuude!")

Things after that were a bit of a whirlwind. The following week was another litany of work, babysitting the Godchildren, my own doctor's appointment, and a house with visitors. I was trying clary sage oil and red raspberry leaf tea to motivate the spawn to well, spawn. Not a lot was happening. I swear the kid was waiting for the chaos to cease before he graced us with his presence. I should've had the doctor stir the pot (aka strip/sweep membranes) at that week's appointment, but I didn't. I figured that I would give him a chance to exit on his own first. Being Thanksgiving week, the OB's office was closed Thursday and Friday, and MamaX3 had her OB & NST appointments Tuesday. I didn't want to be dealing with crazy traffic Wednesday, and had plans to be cooking things in advance that day anyway. Yes, we were still planning on hosting Thanksgiving because we are insane. So, my appointment was on Monday, 2 days after my due date. I had the doc sweep membranes at that visit. And the contractions I'd been having the previous week got more noticeable and frequent. And I told them I wasn't going to go forward with the induction scheduled for the next day, because the decision to induce just did not give me peace.

The next day, I was sitting on the Godchildren. Yes, didn't you read a few sentences up? I am insane. MamaX3 came home, and we started having contractions every 5 minutes, alternating who went first. I decided I needed to go home just in case it was hormonal feedback, and just in case I really *was* in labor. I got home and the contractions spaced themselves back out, but they were getting stronger. I reluctantly called the OB's office and the nurse asked what was going on, I told her, and she said, "Well, you've convinced me". Ugh that was not what I wanted to hear. I don't entirely know why, aside from the fact that it was going to mean coming home from the hospital ON Thanksgiving, and totally leaving my MIL to handle Thanksgiving prep. So, I called Devildog to come home, preventing him from getting overtime that day.

It took a bit of time to get to the hospital, partly because Devildog had to shower and wash the work grunge off his person, partly because it was the start of rush hour going in the direction of most of the traffic, and add Thanksgiving traffic to the mix. It was shortly after 5pm when we arrived. I will spare the male readers the triage portion of the initial intake. I will say the nurse was giving me crap about bailing on the induction and then showing up in labor that night. I love nurses whose sense of humor matches mine.

Being that I have such fast deliveries, the OB was hesitant to let me leave. Any other woman presenting like I was, she would have potentially sent home. Knowing how fast things can escalate, I decided it would be judicious to stay. I asked for the epidural early, because I was figuring I'd eventually get tired, start fighting contractions, and having trouble. To get the epidural, one must have 2 bags of IV fluid, to avoid blood pressure tanking to lethal levels. I got to my room a little after six p.m., and things started moving faster and getting stronger within the hour. By 7:30, I was sensing that I was not going to make it to the epidural, and told Devildog as much. By 7:45 the contractions were practically non-stop. At that point, I told him I hit transition. Not wishing a repeat of Blur's exit, he called the desk, telling them to get the doctor. Meanwhile, my nurse who was advised of just how fast things went with #2 & #4, went off in search of the anesthesiologist. She must not have been in the room when I told Devildog I wasn't going to make it to the epidural, nor did she have bat hearing. She returned just shy of 8 p.m., and at that moment, I started feeling immense pressure. I said as much, and she asked if it was with or without a contraction. (BOTH, honey - it's seriously GO time. Clearly, you haven't had expeditious patients like me before.)

And then...an explosive gush flooded the place. Devildog made an awful face, saying "yea, your water broke. It stinks!" I asked him what it smelled like because I could not smell it at all, being north of the carnage. His response? "rotting meat". Seriously? Some other woman would have been offended, but luckily for him, I'm not some other woman. Although, when you think about it, if you pull the plug on a tub of water that has been sealed up for the better part of 9 months, things are going to be a bit stagnant, so it made sense in a way. The nurse left the room, I hope to get the OB, not the anesthesiologist. All I know is the next several minutes were what felt like a single, long, contraction. It was probably more like ten 2-minute contractions piled on top of each other with a 10 second break between them.

A mere 23 minutes after the explosive gush, the baby was born, and I was completely out of breath, being asked if I wanted the oxygen mask. Yes, please, breathing is overrated sometimes, but I'd like to NOT pass out within seconds after expelling a mini-human from my nether regions, thank you. Nothing incites an obstetrical riot like a freshly spawned mother losing consciousness, so yea, let's avoid that.

If I'd gone back home, or stayed home till my water broke or contractions were closer together/stronger, then I would have been having a baby at home or on the side of the road. I have a friend who had one of her children inside 15 minutes on the kitchen floor. I didn't want that happening here. I warned everyone that I have very fast deliveries, and this was no exception. Upon hearing the story, a few people made comments about a greased pig.

Yes, I've got a case of greased pig, greased chute. Except, in the throes of it all, none of it felt like greased anything, probably because he was partially sunny-side-up. By the time you propel the 5th from your person, you not only have a clue as to how your body operates in childbirth, your body expedites things that much more than it already had in the past. But this turkey had his own timeline for the exit, as do all other babies. He's going to have birthday cake for Thanksgiving some years.

Look at those fat turkey legs

Because this other mom has said it sooo much better than I could

My friend C shared this link with me, after one of her crackbook friends posted it. Her crackbook friend is the author, but she very nicely puts it into terms that are more polite than I would have.







So, let me just reblog hers, noting she's got twins, and I'm only growing one. I'm due next week, NONE of mine have ever arrived early, unless you count 2 days as early.





I almost feel ...   …like a watched pot, taking too long to boil.  No one could possibly want these boys to be born more than me. I’m sure it will be easier to hold them in my arms than my belly.
Instead of being frustrated by my well intentioned friends and family, I posted a guide on my Facebook … it was a bit tongue-in-cheek but from a very real place. Not only did people get a kick out of it, some also asked to share it if their due dates came & went. I made the post public so strangers could share if they needed it. In doing so, I decided to post to my blog in case there were people not on Facebook that needed to know someone else in the world felt their pain. I do, sister. I promise to not ask if you’ve had your baby yet.  Feel free to comment and/or share this post. 

It’s not only for me .. but for all of you who have been there, done that.

1) If you see a post from me stating that I’ve given birth, then I’ve had the babies.
2) If you see a post from my husband/daughter/sister/bestie stating that I’ve given birth, then I’ve had the babies.
3) If you see that I’ve posted pictures of the boys in the hospital or in my arms, then I’ve had the babies.
4) If you see that someone has tagged me in pictures of the boys in the hospital or in my arms, then I’ve had the babies.
5) If you receive a private message, phone call and/or voice mail from me/my husband/daughter/sister/bestie telling you that I’ve had the babies … then I’ve had the babies.
6) If none of the above has happened, then I have NOT had the babies.
We hope this guide has helped clear up any confusion And please … feel free to share this note with anyone. Really … ANYONE.

Let me amend and add also: If I've come to visit you and shown you the offspring, then I've had he baby.

Thanks to Retta for sharing this helpful guide.
http://rettarizzo.com/friends-guide-to-whether-ive-had-the-babies-or-not/

Art of Life

It's too personal a story to relate.
But after a long time friend left my house today, I found a note I'd jotted down during one of Father Lam's homilies. And it so appropriately sums up what I was feeling, and how that friend has lived life.

"The pain passes, but the beauty remains." - Pierre-Auguste Renoir


Thank you for making the trek - all the way to my house today, and all the way through our lives.

And don't stick your head in a tiger's mouth.

Tough love

I was watching the Today show and they were talking about the first half of this story, where an exasperated dad took his 4th grade son to the street with a sign as a public means of discipline. The anchors all said it's a form of bullying itself, by making the son hold the sign saying "I'm a bully! Honk if you hate bullies!" And the dad caught a ton of flack for it.

Let me just make these points:
1. The son was in trouble at school for repeated offenses of bullying. This means that the school was attempting to curb/stop the behavior. The dad made various efforts to get his son to stop bullying.

2. The dad stood on the street corner with his son. He didn't sit in the car playing on his phone or drinking a latte.

3.  The dad owned his son's behavior. He basically said "My son screwed up. Let me do something to prevent it from escalating, and my son being the reason someone else's child ends up on the news because no one did enough to stop the tide of the mistreatment." He DID NOT defend his son's behavior. He did not say "oh, no! not MYYYY child! you're mistaken! you're lying!" that so many other parents do. He demonstrated to his child what other children were feeling when his son was being mean to his peers. Sometimes, empathy is a powerful experience. Who better to help victims of something cope, than other people who have experienced that pain and share their coping methods.

4. The school reported back to the dad that when his son returned to school, he apologized to his victim - OF HIS OWN ACCORD!  No one forced the apology as a contingency for his son's return. The son understood what he'd done, and how it impacted his peers, and he apologized.
Here is where I'll reference that Stanford prison experiment from the 70s. The two groups switched roles after a time. The first-round inmates did not mistreat the former guards to the same extent they were.
Maybe if bullies were subjected to a taste of their own medicine, they'd quickly check their own behavior.

5. He didn't backpedal. The next day, the dad stood on that same corner without his child, responding to the critics. He stood firm in his parenting, and told critics that he was not going to be bullied in to sugar-coating things. The fact that his son apologized to his victim of his own accord tells me this tactic worked.

As a parent of a child who must learn things the hard way, I can relate to this dad's frustration. It took a long time for my child to change some of his behavior, and it took interventions on many fronts. I can relate to the mental, emotional and spiritual exhaustion from constantly battling my child on things like house rules, treating people poorly, and consequences. And being strong-willed, my child also didn't back down from me either. As a result, the house was fraught with tension on a daily basis. But, I'm the parent, and the responsibility of the household rests on my shoulders and those of my husband. We HAD to exhaust our efforts to effect change. In our minds, there was no other way to do it. We were not going to shirk our responsibility to raise our children to become responsible adults.

I personally applaud this dad for taking a stand with his child, and going tough love on his son. If more parents did so, we'd see a decrease of bullying, entitled behavior, and an increase of civility. This guy didn't subscribe to what I call "speshul snowflayke parenting". And I appreciate that he took a stand against his child's behavior, and stood on that street corner with his son holding the sign.

Hippy Chick

I am quickly outgrowing all my maternity shorts. And I have dresses that I would wear, but, I have this problem with my hips. My core muscles never got properly rebuilt after having Blur, so they're weakened and not doing their jobs now. They aren't holding my bones in place properly. And I have no one to blame but myself and yes, I blame the spawn because I can. And it's true. He's part of the reason why my femur slips out of the hip socket and pinches on my sciatic nerve with a direct shot. OW is the nice word for it.
I'm back to binding my hips with that post-surgical binder a friend gave me last pregnancy for the SPD (symphasis pubis dysfunction). I'm not having as much difficulty with that right now unless my hips are misaligned. What I *am* having problems with is the sciatic/femur/hip intersection. And there is only so much the chiropractor can do for me. I'm working on what I can to keep my mobility and learning how to more efficiently get myself safely on my feet first thing in the morning, and with minimal pain.
And then, there's this fun trick to get myself in and out of the mom-bus:

I don't have running boards to help me step up or down into the van, and it's a total crap shoot as to when and how my hip will revolt, and what will cause it to do so. One side is the more problematic, I think because that's the side with the partially sacralized L5 vertebrae. So, I'm trying to remember to use the other side to do the leg-foisting of things to scoot and turn me in the seat. And it's not my dominant side, so that makes it even more fun for me. I'm down to 7 weeks till my due date, and I can't say I'm looking forward to the physical challenges this is going to present.

Animal behavior

We've got a goose problem now. Not that it's a bigger problem in terms of size of the flock. It's the same size flock we've had visiting the pond behind our house since we moved in here 3 years ago. I should correct myself and say that it's a human problem. Humans are feeding the birds, who are now associating all the humans with food.

Previously, there were a couple of geese in our driveway, and when we went outside they moved away from us. Now, they travel in the full gaggle of 15-16, and when they see humans, they move en masse TOWARD them, expecting food. And they have done it to me twice. They did it to Clone this morning as she walked to the bus stop. They did it to a kid on the next street over from us.

We have a human problem. Stop feeding the wild animals. And especially stop feeding them crap that isn't in their natural diet. It's bad for us to eat it, so it's even worse for the animals. And by feeding them, you're going to evolve the natural instincts of survival out of the flock. And then...one day, they're going to have a moment of low blood sugar crankiness and attack someone en masse. So Fish & Wildlife Conservation is going to have to label them as a collective nuisance, and catch and possibly destroy the birds. Geese, especially Canada Geese are a particularly violent animal that is capable of inflicting serious injury to a human. I've seen the violence they're willing to inflict on their own species.

All because you thought it was cute to feed them bread that they don't normally eat, from a source they don't normally interact with, in a manner they don't normally go about on any day.

Seriously, you're not the old woman in Mary Poppins feeding pigeons in the city. You're a problem human creating problem animals in a neighborhood with a wide age range of resident, by interfering with the laws of nature and the natural order of the animals' habitat. And you're breaking a few laws. The birds are naturally fearful of humans, and you're making them lose that fear, which then evolves into associating humans with food. And then when they encounter people like me who wisely do not feed wild animals, they are hungry, cranky and angry, and go on the attack because HOW DARE I NOT FEED THEM!?!??!? 

So I mean it. Stop. Feeding. The. Wild. Waterfowl. You're doing more harm than help.

Matt Walsh is spot on

I've been doing this mom gig thing for 20 years, and I can't tell you how many times I've been on the receiving end of a non-parent's complaint that I'm a failure to society because my child has "gone nuclear" as Matt describes it. Or they complain because my busy kid is busy within inches of their occupied space. If they'd been nicer, I would've been nicer in response, and not attempted to silently goad my kid into annoying them more.
And since this blog post from Matt Walsh sums it up so perfectly, I'm just going to post the link here for you, because I can't do it any justice. Meanwhile, I'm that mom Matt describes in the store, except I'm also telling my nuclear nugget that nobody wants to hear their complaints and howls, so they may as well give it up on making their case for the coveted source of the tantrum. My saying no to them is most definitely not an invitation to convince me otherwise.

catalysts

Sometimes, it's more painful to waffle on a decision than it is to just decide already and deal with what comes of it.

I'm dealing with a lot of junk and trying to mentally and emotionally sort it. And today was ok, but it went downhill this evening. I could go into a rant, but it will only serve to continue stirring the negative sentiments swirling in my head. It didn't help that there were some reactions around me that weren't what I was hoping for them to be, and I accidentally shot my own foot and that of a dear friend with my griping. And I'm hanging my head in shame with tears of frustration and hurt. I hate feeling like I can't win.

I am on the teacup ride at Disney, and I've never liked that ride ever whether in real life, or proverbially speaking. Things have been out of balance for a while here, and trying to right the ship again is proving a massive challenge. I look forward to finding balance soon. A lot has suffered for things being out of whack.

Baby Registry

I just spent 3 hours with an INCREDIBLY tolerant Blur at Babies R Us today, crafting a registry for Mambo #5. Seriously, the registry I created looks utterly asinine. I literally looked for the style of clothing I wanted and needed for this child, in the sizes appropriate for the seasons of that expected size. If you saw that registry, I will just apologize now. There's no way to just craft a generic list on there. So I have to do it here. Hopefully they allow me to add a link into the comment section of my registry so you can come here and read the honest details. And if you do make a purchase with the intention of gifting it to our family, please make sure the cashier notes the registry with the purchase. In the event that we get duplicates or this boy outgrows a size too fast, BRU allows items to be exchanged for a year, provided it's unopened/new w/ tags etc. This applies to ANY item, whether I've added it to the asinine looking registry or not. So, give the cashier the registry number or our name so they can attach the items to the registry.

No, I do not want, need or expect one of each size of items I scanned.
No, I do not want, need or expect every thing to be brand spankin' new with tags.
No, I do not need the EXACT items chosen (with only small exception but that will be addressed).

Yes, I welcome 2nd hand stuff in useable condition, barring items with safety recalls.
Yes, I welcome any and all sizes of diapers, wipes, and clothes.
Yes, I plan on boobing this baby too. (Hence the nursing tops, but I'm picky about the access of them)

So, here are the specifics on clothes/sizes/seasons, listed according to size order:

Newborn: I know babies don't stay in the NB size long. I feel comfortable with the amount of stuff I have in that size.

3 mos: it will be cooler temps, so long sleeve onesies, and pants are welcomed. I reaaaaally loved the snap front onesies that a friend gave me with Clone, and in the event of a blowout diaper, they are incredibly helpful to disrobing squawky baby without getting poop in the kid's hair. So, the more snapfront, the merrier mama is. Sleepers/creepers/sleep-n-plays have always been a go-to item for cooler months, as well as this size baby.

6 mos: we're heading into warmer temps in Florida at that point, so short sleeved stuff is perfect, and a couple pair of pants for those cooler days or at night make the onesies versatile. Since it will be warming up, a couple pairs of shorts (denim, khaki, black, blue - the basics) can sorta dress up a onesie if we're feeling a need to do more than just a onesie. Again, snap fronts are mama's friend.

9 mos: Blazing. Hot. Summer. In. Florida. The kid will likely be found in diapers at home, and that's it. A onesie for bed or going somewhere. Bibs to catch the drool but, is it shameful to say I still have some bibs from the older kids? I need to go find them. And my older kids were walking by 9 months the latest. Speshul Snowflayke Speed Racers.

12 mos:  we're heading back to cooler temps, so pants and long sleeves, or just onesies, pants and a couple lightweight jackets will do well. Unfooted creepers are helpful for little feet to grip the floor. Footed sleepers are lovely pajamas.

18 mos: Florida winters are short, but for a native, not nice. Again, long sleeves and pants are lovely things, and by this point, the kids are helping dress themselves, and often proficient at UNdressing themselves when you least want them to do so.

So, most of the clothing questions answered, let's address the other stuff:

Nursing tops: I plain and simple don't do pull aside, or drop cup, styles without some other secondary layer to cover my chest. I am not comfortable exposing that much of my chest to that point, and it's entirely personal preference. I had a couple Japanese Weekend surplice sleeveless tops with under-bust access when nursing Blur, and thinking I was d-o-n-e having kids, I donated them and that's the one thing I lament. Those tops were awesome for complete discretion, and no requirement to don one of those drapes that scream like a WW2 bomb alarm to alert the world that you're boobing a baby. Plus, my kids refuse to keep the cover over their heads anyway.

Diapers: yes please, every size. I'm not brand specific or preferential. I do not object to store brand butt covers either.

Diaper wipes: oh lord, if I had space to store a pallet of those, I would. When Blur was a small baby, I had been given a bunch of those adult wipes and they were HUGE by comparison to the baby wipes (which have shrunk 2 inches in both directions since my first 2 kids were still pooping their pants btw). It was awesome to not worry about possibly touching the yuk. They were like 10x10 or something really ridiculously gargantuan. But regular baby wipes are not going to get handed back to you.

The swing: Oy, that one in the registry is pricey! I am absolutely, unequivocally not actually asking for THAT one. One like it from a second hand source is great too. Blur hated the back and forth of the swing after a while and would reach out and grab the leg to stop moving. Kid was talented like that. But we also had a travel swing for her in that tiny hovel where we lived, so space was premium. She could reach the leg to stop the swing. I'd like one that can swing in either direction, which is why I scanned that astronomical monster.

Rocking chair & ottoman: I scanned that mac daddy model just because I could and it was comfortable, and it is a recliner too. I'll have to fight to keep the Devildog out of it, but as many nights as I've sat up with a complaintive baby, myself needing sleep, and said child not wanting to be anywhere but my chest...this is where my logic was in scanning it. It's just so I can avoid as many visits to the chiropractor after sitting up with the complaintive spawn on my chest. Would I welcome a standard rocking chair and ottoman? yes, absolutely. Devildog was able to rock Clone in the one that was given to us. Since that hovel was tiny, and we never used it, I then gave it to a former coworker with 2 little boys, who'd confided in my sister that she was wanting a rocking chair. We were able to sneak it into her car at work one day and she was ecstatic.

Pretty much all the other odds n ends I scanned were things we've used before but blessed others with previously, so having replacements would be awesome. Dishwasher baskets, changing pad, etc - if you can find a cheaper one, or have one in your own closet, no hurt feelings if you give that to us.

There's also a VIB card attached to the registry. If you're flummoxed...I don't blame you. You can do a gift card amount on the VIB card of your choosing. If you can afford $5 and that's it, so be it. I am incredibly grateful for any generosity given in our direction. There's the bonus that BRU will match 10% of the amount added to the VIB card, so it's kind of like free money.

Edited to add: And if all else fails, there is always the option of a gift card to some place nearby that offers takeout or delivery. Once my MIL and MamaX3's mom goes back home, we're looking at needing fast meals, and me needing one handed food for things like breakfast and lunch or middle of the night when both mom and baby are hungry.