13 posts tagged “babies”

I had a rare morning.  I was alllllll alone for three whole hours.  My prof is at a conference this week, so no class.  It crossed my mind to keep Jonathan home from school this morning so that I wouldn't have to be alone, but I decided to do the right thing and put his needs before mine, and take him to his school because he loves it so.  I miss him. I feel like someone just chopped off my leg and took off.  I am counting the minutes until I can go retrieve him. 

So what does one do when they are totally childless?  You'd think a nice nap would be in order since I didn't get to sleep until well after 2 a.m., but even though I tried to lay down, my mind would not settle down long enough to let me.  I have a million things to do but no real motivation to actually tackle any of them.  I'm noticing that when I PMS this is how I get.  And I'm PMSing really bad today.  I feel so out of sorts.  Worried about nothing and everything.  Feeling a little sad, a little bit of anhedonia, too.  The "in touch with reality" side of my brain is sitting there rolling its eyes at the other side of my brain, the part that is the spazzy, sad, angry, worried, depressed side of me at this moment.  It's a strange place to be.  I'm trying to sit and just center myself, but it seems the thoughts race on and the feelings seem to ebb and flow from second to second.  My focus and concentration is totally shot.  I really hate this time of the month.

But I digress...

I found myself flipping channels a little bit ago and happened upon Bringing Home Baby on TLC.  This particular episode brought back some old feelings that I had long forgotten.  The mother in this episode was struggling with post-partum emotions, feeling fine and happy one moment, weepy, scared and anxious the next.  I really felt for her because I've been there.  Twice. 

The first time, with my daughter, it was pretty awful.  At its worst, I threatened to take my daughter and move back to Missouri, which made my husband cry.  That's significant because my husband doesn't cry.  He's just not that type of guy, and that's a good thing because I cry over just about everything.  I've only seen him cry three times in our life together:  his grandmother's funeral, our wedding (awww), and that moment when I was damn near out of my mind and threatened to leave with the baby.  He begged me to go to the doctor.  

I resisted at first, insisting "I'm fine.  Just leave me the F&%# alone!"  I only complied with his request when the thought of suicide crossed my mind.  Here I was, sitting there with my beautiful, perfect daughter, who was, along with my husband, my whole life's dream realized, and the thought of ending my life flittered through my brain.  That "in touch with reality" part my brain that I spoke of earlier, well, it shot up at full attention and said "WHOA.  Stop.  What are you THINKING??"

The next day I called my doctor and was seen the next day after that.  Diagnosis: post-partum depression.  I was prescribed Sarafem and referred to counseling.  When I got home, I scoured the internet regarding PPD and was alarmed to learn that women who have a history of depression (um, HI, that's me) have an over 80% chance of experiencing post-partum depression.  Jah.  That kind of pissed me off because that little piece of information would've been MIGHTY HELPFUL to have learned when I was pregnant.  At least I could have prepared for it somehow.  It angered me that in all the literature and education I received during my pregnancy, the information provided regarding PPD was very minimal.

I am thankful when I see programs like this on TV that talk about PPD.  Because it is a very real illness and there is so much that people don't know about it.  When my son was born, a nurse educator visited me in my hospital room to actually TALK about the symptoms of post-partum depression.  Apparently this is now protocol at the hospital.  And while I felt like saying to her "where were you three years ago when I really could have used this information?" I held back and decided to just be thankful that they had adopted this practice.  I had already taken steps to ward off PPD.  I started on Zoloft at 35 weeks, but this time around, my PPD turned out to be PPA (post partum anxiety) and I dealt with major anxiety and panic attacks.  But at least I knew.  At least I had the information and knew not to sit and wait for it to get better on its own, or think "oh, it's just baby blues and getting used to having a new baby."  Because it's more than baby blues, and it is more than just getting used to having a new baby.  It is some scary stuff, and if left untreated, it can prove to be horribly tragic (e.g., Andrea Yates).

So, mamas out there getting ready to deliver -- do your homework.  Mamas with a history of depression -- talk to your doctor about things that you can do to help manage symptoms and a course of action should you start feeling down and out.  And any new mamas out there who might have done a Vox search on PPD and found this post -- don't go it alone.  Your OB or midwife can help you.  Don't sit there another minute and hurt.  It doesn't have to be -- it shouldn't be -- like this. 

I woke up this morning really bumming.  The new a/c is going to cost $4K to replace.  And we don't have enough savings to cover it, so we have to finance it -- at 22 percent interest.  Ugh.  It seems you climb out of debt, then one way or another, you are right back in there. 

But, the good news is I'm not sitting here with my butt seared to this chair, and the kids aren't screaming "IT'S HOOOOOOOOOTTTTTTTTTTTT!" 75,000 times.  No, the new unit isn't here yet, but the company we're working with was so kind to recharge our existing unit for free until the new unit gets installed on July 31st. 

The company is Campbell Comfort Systems.  In this day and age, rare is it to find a company willing to go above and beyond to ensure customer service.  Just this morning, they called my husband to advise of the install date and the credit approval terms, and also to ask how our unit was holding up, and to advise us that if we have any problems with our existing unit at all, just call them and they would come out, because they didn't want us to go without air.  How nice is that?  I'm just blown away by their customer service. 

As I said, I woke up this morning bumming about the money.  I don't know if my kids have some sort of sixth sense when it comes to sensing when mommy is worried, but they both were very cuddly and snuggly this morning, just a little more than usual.  Getting some good hugs and snuggles from my babies did wonders in getting my mind off this whole mess.  Also good medicine:  getting some amazing shots of my sweet babies in the pretty light coming through the windows in our dining room.  Enjoy the slideshow below ;)

This post is untitled until I get enough caffeine in me to rename it something more witty . . .

The weekend went better than the week.  Until last night.  Katie got sick and threw up all over our bed.  Then in the middle of the night, Jonathan threw up all over our bed.  Good times.  Did you see the post below that our dryer is broken?

But, this morning my sweet, handsome and handy hubby went to the Sears Service & Part joint in Pennsauken (New Jersey) and got a new igniter for the Neptune and came home and replaced it.  Poof.  Dryer is now working!!! 

I really don't know how he does these things.  I think he was the Maytag repair guy in a past life.  How he can just figure out what is wrong with appliances, find the parts and fix them never ceases to amaze me.  The part was a piddly $32 bucks.  I imagine it would have cost a couple hundred easily to have someone come in and replace it.

So today, the agenda is to get caught up on the no less than 10 loads (yes, T-E-N) loads of laundry that have to be done. 

As for the kiddos, they seem to be doing better today.  I believe Katie's issue was she ate a little bit much for dinner and it just didn't agree with her.  She was fine the rest of the night and INSISTED she get to go to school today.  I let her go on the condition that if her stomach started feeling wonky again, she would tell her teacher immediately and have her either go to the nurse or have them call me to pick her up.  So far, no call. 

Jonathan seems to be doing ok, too.  Methinks he had an upset tummy from dinner, too.  He won't eat, but that's no different than any other non-sick day.  I've given up worrying about his eating.  For the most part when he does eat, he eats fairly healthy, so it's all good.  He's just going to be a skinny kid.  I imagine he'll be able to wear his summer clothes from last year.  That never happened with Katie--she went up a size almost every season.

In other news, I am on a mad search for graduate schools.  I visited an open house at Thomas Jefferson University this weekend with a couple of my classmates to check out their OT program.  Their program looks awesome.  It's a 2 1/2 year entry-level master's program.  The downside is the curriculum is very rigorous and classes and fieldwork meets during the week during the day, so I would have to severely cut my hours at work to part time.  I really don't know how we would be able to live on half my salary.  So that's been nagging at me all weekend. 

I then decided to broaden my program search to see what other OT programs are available in this area.  I stumbled upon a master's in occupational therapy program at Philadelphia University, which used to be the very posh Philadelphia College of Textile and Design.  The obvious benefit of this program is that they meet on Fridays and Saturdays during the day for eight weeks every other weekend.  In addition, you would be required to do additional activities on Blackboard (online learning) during the off weeks.  I'm no stranger to Blackboard -- we use it at Drexel already and I like it a lot.  The cost is about the same as Jefferson.  I'm hoping that with my honor status, grades and experience I could land a nice scholarship or graduate assistantship of some sort that would cover my tuition.  I would still be able to work and live, and would only need to cut Fridays, still working the 5 to 12:30 shift Monday through Thursday. 

I'm certainly feeling a lot better about this now.  It just might be doable.  Of course I would have to spend the next year getting all my pre-reqs done at Gloucester County, but the benefit of that is two fold:  (1) going part time will keep my loans in deferment; (2) I could get Jonathan into their awesome preschool program there at the Early Childhood Center, which is incredibly cheap and awesome from what I've heard.

3 = times Jonathan threw up from the time I got home from work at 1:00 a.m. until we got out of bed at 8:00 a.m. (or, more accurately, gave up on trying to sleep)

2 = wasted doses of desperately needed cough medicine my poor little man couldn't keep down

2 = hours of sleep my husband and I got last night

2.5 = number of hours of sleep my baby son got last night

4 = days Katie has missed from school in the last two weeks.  She's also feeling crappy again (literally).

I am bone weary and scared for my sweet boy.  We have tried everything short of giving him adult cough medicine to help quiet his cough so he could get some much, much needed rest.  Triaminic, Diametapp, Mucinex.  I just went out and bought Triaminic Cough and Cold Thin Strips and gave him those to see if that would at least get some medicine in him.  He's been coughing so horribly that he gags himself and throws up. 

We did visit the ped yesterday.  He has a double ear infection, #5 for this season.  One more and we're being referred to an ear, nose and throat specialist at CHOP, which would likely mean tubes. 

Because of his ear issues, we made the decision that we would need to get rid of his pacifier.  We were told when he had his very first ear infection last March that we needed to get him off of it, advice which we patently ignored.  Truthfully, I did not want to go through the two-year molar stage without him having some comfort.  I remember how hellish that time was for Katie, so I was unwilling to push for him to get rid of the bink.  In my idealistic mind, I had hoped one day he would just decide he didn't need it anymore.  I should know better -- he comes from a long line of addictive personalities who aren't going to give up their attachments to things willingly (just kidding). 

But, now that all four molars are here, it is time for the germ laden beast to go.  He doesn't seem to really miss it much.  He did go looking for it last night but we calmly explained that the binky was gone because it was making him sick.  I don't know if he's just too ill to fight it right now, or if perhaps in his little 2 year old mind he's able to reason. 

While the whole tube thing does not really worry me so much because I have so many friends who have went through it with their kids, and they all say it's a piece of cake, I'd rather not have to have him go through that. 

I'm there.  I'm right at that point where you collapse in a big blubbery heap, hold your head in your hands, wail like a baby and surrender to all the stress.  Yep, right there.  That's me.

I am learning I do not handle the stress of my children being ill as well as I handle other stresses in my life.  And now I'm wondering why that is.  A lot of it is due to the feelings of helplessness, which does not bode well with me and never has.  In my own life, I am invulnerable (for the most part).  Whatever problem I may encounter, there is always a solution.  I can always find the answer.  Haven't met a challenge I haven't been able to beat into submission--yet. 

But when it comes to my babies being sick, that is a world that is beyond scary and overwhelming.  The unknowns, the what-ifs.  The cries of pain that I cannot comfort, the fear that I cannot erase.  Those are the things that make me feel I have lost control.  And that's it--it boils down to control.  No one likes to lose control, and when your children are sick, control is far beyond your reach most of the time.  All you can do is just sit idly by, dose the meds, wash the pukey sheets, wipe the gooey noses and soothingly say over and over "my poor hunny, it'll be ok."  That's all I can do.  I have to submit to that.  And pray.  Pray a lot. 

I just sat by Jonathan's bedside just now and got on my hands and knees.  I asked the Lord to please make my babies well, because their momma just can't handle watching them so sick.  I hope this morning he is listening.

What also is complicating the stress even more is school.  I am just over-fucking-whelmed this week.  My Group Professor is unbelievably demanding.  I have seven separate assignments to get done for just her class.  Forget about any reading that I'm supposed to be doing for my other class.  I vented about her syllabus earlier in the term and the brunt of that is now pushing me to my absolute breaking point. 

During my prayers, I realized that I had to let all that go for now.  For today.  Today I have to focus on what I have to do moment to moment, which is to get the mounds of dirty sheets washed, comfort my babies and get them to the doctor at 1:30.  From there, who knows what will happen, and I am choosing right now not to think about what happens thereafter.

Unfortunately, no. :0(

Jonathan has been running a low temp off and on since yesterday, along with a runny nose and cough.  Seems like he's ending up how Katie started out last week.  If the temp persists tomorrow, we'll be back to the ped just to get his ears checked to ensure they're not infected.

But, there is some progress.  Katie is back at school today.  She was so excited to go back.  I was happy to see her go because she loves school so much.  I feel like the mean mommy when I have to tell her she can't go to school because she's sick.  But, that's my job.  Sometimes you gotta be the bad guy.  That's the suckier side of parenting.

I am going back to work tonight.  I'm looking forward to it actually.  I feel so discombobulated these last few days.  Getting back to our routine will restore some semblance of equilibrium to this household. 

The hubby is also back to work today.  Yesterday was the first sick day he has ever taken since he came down with the Chicken Pox during the winter of 1995.  No, that's not a misprint.  1995.  As in eleven years ago.  He's been fortunate all these years to either have quick moving bugs or, he just goes to work sick.  And they think I'M crazy.   

My mother-in-law is home again today because she's still suffering the effects of the nasty tummy bug.  No vomiting for her, thank goodness, just lots of chills, body aches and diarrhea.  I worry about her because she's diabetic and tends not to take care of herself when she's sick -- she doesn't eat and I doubt she's taken her medication.  Hopefully, though, she'll be feeling better today.

On a lighter note, my sweet little boy is just the funniest thing.  Today I was wiping his boogery nose and he got mad and said "Stop GUYS!"  My poor hunny.  He's just a boogery coughing mess today.  I just want to wrap him up in my arms, wave a magic wand and make all the sickies go away. 

I am eating words from my previous post.  Specifically, this:

Jonathan has a slight cold, but otherwise he's still his crazy little self. 

 

It began about 10:30.  He had just went to sleep.  Then he woke up crying and coughing.  Shawn went in to see what was going on and I hear "Oh no, Buddy!  You're getting sick!"  I went to investigate and he had thrown up all over himself and his bed.  Poor thing was scared to death and crying.

I took him into the bathroom and got him cleaned up.  I had hoped that perhaps he just gagged or something and this would be it, but it wasn't.  He threw up two more times before midnight, then the poor guy dry heaved about every half hour to 45 minutes from midnight until 5 a.m. 

Whilst I was cleaning him up, Katie woke up crying because she was coughing and miserable.  I ended up bringing them both into bed with me, where Katie was finally able to settle down after a good dose of Vicks VapoRub on her chest.  So, being summarily evicted from his bed, my dear husband, not wanting to be too far away from his cherished flock, made a pallet on our bedroom floor (which is hardwood) and slept there for the rest of the night.  I can't ask for a more dedicated father and husband, I really cannot.  He really amazes me and I am so, so, so thankful that he is the man and father that he is.  We are very lucky.

Throughout the night, I would squeeze in a few teaspoons of ginger ale from a medicine syringe in a vain attempt to keep him hydrated.  At one point during the wee hours, I woke up to a strange smell and saw that he had diarrhea and it had leaked out of his jammies and on to a quilt he was sleeping on.  We had to clean him up, of course, and I expected him to pitch a fit of all fits, but he didn't.  He was just so tired he laid there, completely worn out from being woken from his sleep all night long to heave. 

At one point, I wanted to take him to the hospital, but I figured that would be worse than waiting it out until morning.  He wasn't showing any obvious signs of dehydration; he seemed to be listless but it was hard to tell since he was so tired from not being able to sleep. 

Jonathan awoke at 6:30 a.m. and was finally willing to drink from a cup of ginger ale we had been offering him all night.  He downed it and wanted more, so we refilled it, and he downed it again.  I expected to be awoken in about half an hour covered in bile and gingerale, but thank goodness, it all stayed down.

At 7:30, he woke up for the day.  His sister woke up shortly thereafter and they were wound for sound, as if they had both had the best night of sleep in their lives.  They decided to have a pillow fight and ended up knocking Jonathan's special Cars cup to the floor, where it broke and sprayed ginger ale out onto the floor.  I was blind with exhaustion and overwhelmed that these two kiddos could be so energetic after having such a crazy night.  Shawn ordered me back to bed and took Jonathan downstairs to get him something to drink and let him play in the playroom.  I slept a little while longer, but around 9:00 a.m., Katie began a diligent campaign to wake me up.  I was (and still am) totally mashed.  I went downstairs to find Shawn asleep on the couch and Jonathan passed out on the recliner. 

Katie is still feeling yucky off and on.  The omnipresent cough is there and nothing we give her seems to really work.

Jonathan is doing great--even ate breakfast and has been acting like last night's drama never even happened.  It's truly remarkable the resilience of these kids.  It never ceases to amaze me how they can be so ill one minute, then the next be acting like nothing is wrong. 

This amazing assortment of CRAP was discovered in my children's beds today:

Katie's bed: 

• A small plastic pot (belonging to her pretend kitchen) filled with a pretend waffle, fake peas, the gingerbread man from her Shrek playset, two plastic hoppy frogs she got from a grab bag at a birthday party and a chapstick
• My-size Barbie wearing nothing but my old sarong bought in Hawaii
• Three blankets that she used as a baby
• Her Disney princesses throw
• A stuffed rabbit wearing a bracelet and a necklace
• A stuffed dog with a baby bib tied around his head (sunshade, perhaps?)
• A copy of Dr. Seuss' Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?

Jonathan:

• Bert (from Sesame Street)
• Buzz
• Woody
• Baby Tad
• A Tow Truck (?)
• Lightning McQueen
• A sippy cup from lord knows when (ewww--Shawn gets to clean that one out)
• Two blankets - one Cars, one Blue's Clues

I see so many families these days having more than the standard 2 kids. I come from a family of three, my husband a family of two boys. I always envisioned myself being the mother of three, but it didn’t quite work out like that. I had three pregnancies, the first ending in miscarriage at 9 weeks. It took us almost two years to conceive. Two months after that miscarriage, we became pregnant again, and that bean stuck. She’s now four going on five.

I can’t really recall how we arrived on two as our magic number. We somehow determined when I became pregnant with our second child that this was it for us. Whether we had a boy or girl, we were done. Finances did play a role, but a minimal one. I think the biggest factor was fear of being overrun or outnumbered, as silly as it sounds. My husband likes to put it in football terms: man to man coverage is always more effective than zone defense. I suppose one can rationalize it any way they see fit.

I am very content with the two beautiful, healthy, brilliant and funny children we have. I had a tubal ligation during our son’s c-section delivery, so the decision was finalized at that point. Still, I found myself asking my husband if he had any regrets about not going for a third. Without blinking an eyelash, he said “NO” and then went on to list his various reasons why—like being able to get a full night’s sleep at least five to six nights out of the week.

It occurred to me today while watching an episode of “Bringing Home Baby” that the whole pregnancy and childbirth journey is now behind me. That ship has sailed. All those days and weeks and hours spent reading every pregnancy and baby book, website; agonizing over which carseat, which stroller, which diaper pail--every little decision seemed to be SO important and SO critical. I spent countless hours poring over product reviews on Amazon.com. Spent HOURS researching breastfeeding and postpartum depression. It’s all done. All of it. Done. Realizing this was unsettling, as if I were supposed to turn in my uterus and ovaries, being that they were no longer needed. It made me really sad, and I started to get all weepy.

Just at that moment, in walks in Katie, followed shortly by her shadow, Mr. Jonathan. I looked at my two silly little munchkins and had an epiphany: for every moment of their babyhood that I mourn for, there are so many wonderful moments laying ahead in their childhood and adolescence waiting to be had. Ok, maybe not so much the adolescence—I know that’s a stretch (trying to be warm and fuzzy here, ok?)

I thank God every single day for all my blessings, especially the two little miracles that are my children. Each of them has their own special place in my heart. Collectively, they own me -- heart and soul.

When Katie was born, I realized that it was time to take all the baggage of my past out, work through it all, deal with it, and move on. I knew I had to be better because she deserved the best mother I could be, and I didn’t feel I could fulfill that role adequately unless I finally faced those demons, was brutally honest with myself and everyone, and finally dealt with the remaining personal symptoms of my mother’s murder (the symptoms I speak of were the 100 pounds I gained and the serious health issues developed as a result).

Jonathan is special because I believe in my heart that he is God’s way of telling me that He is in control, that He has a plan for me and that I need not fret over the unknown because everything is as it should be. I learned a valuable lesson about cherishing life as it is RIGHT NOW instead of trying to make it be something you think it should be. It’s so beautiful, because he is such an in-the-moment kiddo, so funny and carefree. He loves to make people laugh. His personality, I believe, is a reflection of that life lesson he was sent here to earth to teach me.

I let Jonathan eat almost a quarter of a bag of miniature marshmallows while I bagged up my groceries today at the supermarket. Definitely not one of my best mommy moments . . .