Baby, Cooking, Baking and Life...

Herb Pork Mezzanote

2012-02-10T17:12:00.007-05:00

This is inspired by my favorite Miami meal, Veal Mezzanote. I did not have access to bone-in veal shank so I used pork instead. This works well with chicken, turkey, salmon, mahi mahi, or NY strip (no breading on beef or fish).

Ingredients

Thick cut pork chops

Parsley, Thyme (to taste)

Italian Breadcrumb

1 Egg

Dark leafy green salad

Vinaigrette Dressing

(To make your own, I squeezed a lemon, maybe 1 tsp, 1 splash of red wine vinegar, to about 2 tbs of Olive Oil, add Salt and Pepper to taste, whisk until blended)

What you do

Heat skillet over medium-high heat, with about 3 tbs olive or canola oil in the pan. Crack and beat egg into shallow bowl. Even though the breadcrumb has herbs, I add more parsley and thyme as well as black pepper to the breadcrumb. Next, add the Italian breadcrumb into another shallow bowl. Dredge the pork chop into the egg and then the breadcrumb and add to the skillet.

Dress the salad with the dressing, and reserve a tiny amount of dressing for the meat. You can add anything to the salad you like, I kept mine plain. Add tomatoes, or sun-dried tomatoes, add black olives, pine nuts, feta or blue cheese crumbles.

Once the meat is done (For pork, it's good to leave the center slightly pink now) place onto the plate and add 1 tsp of the dressing over the hot meat, then top with the dressed salad. Serve remaining salad on the side. Top with shreds of fresh Parmesan cheese if you like and serve with a side steamed rice. (not pictured).

ENJOY!

Beer based bacon & cheddar mac n' cheese

2012-01-22T13:56:00.011-05:00

What you'll need:

2-3 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese

1 box penne pasta

2 tbs butter, or 2 tbs bacon grease

2 tbs flour

1 & 1/2 cup whole milk

1/2 bottle dark beer

1 bag real bacon pieces or four strips of bacon, diced

Salt and pepper to taste, Italian breadcrumb and Parmesan cheese to top

Olive oil

What You'll Do:

Pre-heat oven to 350.

Boil your noodles and start your roux. Preferably use bacon grease if you have it, if not, melt 2 tbs butter over medium high heat and add 2 tbs flour. Whisk together until the two form a smooth paste. Slowly add 1/2 a bottle of any dark beer and keep whisking until all of the lumps disappear.

Next slowly add 1 & 1/2 cups of whole milk, continue to whisk and raise heat to high, continue to whisk. The mixture will slowly thicken, once it bubbles, lower the heat to low and add the shredded sharp cheddar. Continue to whisk until all of the cheese melts and then add the bacon pieces.

Strain the penne and add the noodles back into the pot they were boiled in. Pour the cheese and bacon mixture over the noodles and stir to cover the noodles. Pour the noodles into a large casserole dish and top with a thin layer of Italian flavored bread crumb mixed with grated Parmesan cheese. Drizzle some olive oil on top of the breadcrumb and place in the oven to bake for 20 minutes until the cheese bubbles.

To brown the breadcrumb, set the oven to broil on high for five minutes after it's finished baking. Serve immediately.

ENJOY!

Massaman Curry

2012-01-16T18:44:00.020-05:00

Homemade Thai-Take Out

Massaman Curry

If you are like me and live no where near Birmingham, then you are stuck making your own Thai food. (I say that because throughout my many, many travels, Birmingham Alabama is still home to the best Thai restaurant I've ever eaten at). Thai food is not nearly as daunting as you may think. The main thing is getting all of the necessary ingredients, (which is many), and keeping them in stock at all times.

This is relatively easy to make, but a tad time consuming. Anyone can make this savory, spicy, Thai-stew. Most of the ingredients will keep so you can make this over and over again.

What you'll need:

2 tbs oil (Canola or vegetable)

2-3 tbs Massaman curry paste (or red curry paste)

1 slice 'fresh' ginger, minced

1/4 yellow onion, sliced thin

1 lb chicken, cubed

2-3 potatoes, peeled and cubed

3 tbs brown sugar

3 tbs fish sauce

2 tbs Worcestershire sauce

1/3 cup 'chunky' peanut butter (+canola oil cooking spray for cup)

1/2 cup to 1 cup roasted peanuts

1 can coconut milk

3 tbs fresh lime juice

What you need to do: [If you are making regular rice, follow the instructions and a give your self enough time, the massaman takes about 45 minutes with prep and cooking time]

Buy curry paste. I'm lucky I have an international market where I live and could get actual Massaman curry paste, but you can use 'red curry' paste, which can be found at just about any grocery store.

To make life easier, prep all of your spices and ingredients first and place in separate ramekins. I start with ginger. Always use FRESH ginger. No matter where you live you can find fresh ginger in any grocery store. After using it, store it in a storage bag and keep in the freezer. Slice off about a 1/2 inch piece, peel and use a 'microplane' (fruit zester) to grate the ginger over a ramekin instead of mincing by hand with a knife.

Thinly slice some yellow onion, I add this for some sweetness. Massman normally calls for Tamarind paste but I can never find it so I add Worcestershire Sauce instead and some yellow onion.

Next, using seperate ramekins, measure out your brown sugar, fish sauce, Worcestershire sauce, and fresh lime juice. Please get a lemon/lime squeezer for the lime. This will squeeze out every drop of juice from the fruit and will contain all of the seeds, it's worth every penny!

Quick tip! Spray your measuring cup with canola-oil spray before you add your peanut butter so it comes out easier when you're adding it to the pot. Peel and dice your potatoes and dice your chicken. Turn the burner for your soup pot onto medium-high.

-Heat the oil, add the curry paste (2 tbs for milder flavor, 3 for hotter) and ginger and cook for two minutes. Next add the chicken and onions and cook for three minutes.

-Add the brown sugar, fish sauce, Worcestershire sauce, peanut butter, peanuts, potatoes, and coconut milk. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to medium-low, cover and simmer for twenty minutes.

-Now is the time to start thinking about preparing your instant rice, or pasta (Where is it written it must be served over rice? Do what you want) It's the joy of cooking at home, serve over noodles if you like. I serve over brown rice.

-After twenty minutes check to see if the potatoes are done, add the 3 tbs of lime juice and continue to cook for five more minutes before serving.

ENJOY!

Tortilla Soup...

2011-12-31T09:08:00.006-05:00

I made tortilla soup the other night...thought perhaps I'd post the recipe. It may not be the most traditional recipe but it's worth a try.

Ingredients

1 tbs olive oil

1 package chicken tenderloins, cut into chunks.

1/2 yellow onion, diced

1/4 tsp fresh garlic, minced

1 box low sodium chicken broth/stock

1 can no salt added diced tomatoes with the juice (Or tomatoes mixed with chilis)

1 tsp cumin

1 tsp coriander

Queso blanco to taste

Shredded sharp cheddar to taste

chili powder, salt, & pepper to taste

Tortilla strips, yellow cheese, and sour cream to garnish.

Add oil to soup pot (I use a non-stick pot so the cheese won't burn to the bottom) over medium heat. Saute onions until translucent and season with salt and pepper. Add the garlic and the chicken, add the cumin and coriander as well as salt and pepper and chili powder and continue to cook on medium heat for about five minutes.

Add the canned tomatoes with the juice and cook for one more minute. Add the broth and bring to a boil. Once it boils, cover with a lid and lower heat to a simmer. Continue to simmer for fifteen minutes. Break off small chunks of the queso blanco and add to the soup while stirring. Add some of the yellow cheese and turn off the heat.

Pour soup into bowl. Top the soup with tortilla strips, a dollop of sour cream, and more yellow cheese. ENJOY! :-)

*If you can not find tortilla strips in the store, they are simple to make. Take 'corn' tortillas and slice into strips. Add canola oil to a pot, about an inch, heat over medium-high heat, add strips and fry until they are crispy, maybe one minute. Remove to a plate covered with a paper towel, serve immediately.)

All good things come to an end....

2011-07-07T09:29:00.015-04:00

July 7, 2011 will officially mark the last day of my life that I'm a breastfeeding woman. William is 15 months and 10 days old.

My first goal was to make it six weeks, then...six months, then a year...then, to his adjusted 'year' which occurred on May 13, 2011, nearly two months ago. Then I wanted to let him 'self wean.' I foolishly thought self weaning would occur around 18-24 months.

Everyone knows it's been a struggle from the get-go. Hyperemesis, premature birth, month long stay in the NICU, poor pump, tongue-tie. Finally last July we rid ourselves of all of that, but he was so fond of his bottle by then, it was always a struggle to breastfeed. I spent most of our nursing relationship pumping, though after the tongue-tie surgery, we did nurse daily, always followed by a bottle for him and a pump for me.

I can rest assured when he needed it most, in the NICU, he got 90% of his nutrition straight from me...well, via the pump of course.

I actually miss the days waking up full. I miss the leaking. I knew my 'stuff' worked then! Those days are long gone. My low supply tanked even more around December 2010. Around late April 2011, he got a nasty gum infection from a molar that had been trying for months to cut through. During this time, he was miserable. My supply was low and we were only night nursing by that point. One night, he was particularly fussy, I was particularly low in supply, and tired...he was struggling and struggling and finally he latched, but he bit me so hard, I just decided to stop.

I decided to just take that night off and continue the next day. Well the next day is when I discovered the infected gum, a large chunk of which was just ready to literally fall off. After it did, he was sore and still refused to nurse. I didn't know at the time, but that was the last time he ever breastfed.

I was still making milk and my pump had been stowed, so I just expressed milk into his morning cereal and night time bottle and thought I'd continuing doing so until I stopped producing.

I tried nursing again a few times, but he refused each time.

Finally, I saw my Doctor last week regarding my abnormal liver readings and my worsening migraines. He told me I need to start some medications and I can not breastfeed with them.

So I'm faced with a choice. Squirt about 10 drops into his cereal and 10 into his bottle and suffer with debilitating migraines, or just stop and get some relief. Sadly I'm choosing the latter. If my supply were better and he nursed, I'd keep going, but all that pain and inability to even care for him isn't worth it for a few drops.

Looking back, I guess I got my wish. I wanted to stop when "HE" decided it was time. When he self-weaned. And...he did.

In all, I breastfed for One Year, Three Months, One Week, and Two Days...in the end...that's not really too bad. Most would say it's been a suck-cess.

June 27, 2010

March 27, 2011, William's 1st birthday

The hell that is...the NICU

2011-04-02T21:10:00.035-04:00

Let me start with what a wondrous and fantastic thing a NICU is. NICUs save lives every day and are a necessity. We were lucky to have three at our disposal. The one in the hospital I delivered in wasn't able to properly care for William, it wasn’t a level 3, so he had to be sent either 50 miles away to Cincinnati Children’s or 20 miles away to Dayton Children’s.

For a hospital, a children's hospital is pretty nice. Being a children’s hospital it’s bright and has all sorts of cool colors and a tank with tropical fish in the lobby. The staff was mostly friendly and the food in the cafeteria was even pretty good.

But here comes to “woe-is-me” portion of this blog…from a new parent’s point of view…NICUs suck! Why? Well no one should have a baby in the NICU. The NICU means something is wrong, something is very wrong. Of course, in our case, everything ended up great. From wrong to great in one, long, drawn-out month.

I said earlier one of the worst things a person can suffer is infertility, if they want a child that is. If you have not experienced it, you will not understand. The same is true of NICUs. Yes, people say how awful it must be, and people probably think how tragic it is, but unless you have a baby in a NICU, you’ll never truly understand.

We had something great going for us. Our child was massive for his gestation and was in overall pretty good health. I never once thought we were going to lose him after he was born. I also knew he’d be ‘fine’ in terms of development. I just knew. Even having a somewhat healthy baby in the NICU (I use that term loosely, no baby is healthy in a NICU) is still very demanding, frustrating and at times, unbearable.

As with all things, I’m a planner. I planned to get pregnant right away when we decided to try. I planned on having a great pregnancy. I planned to have the baby born, wiped off, and then handed directly to me within the first minute of his birth. I planned to breastfeed immediately. I planned to stay in the hospital for 48 hours, and then with a baby in my arms, be wheeled out, get into my car, and drive home. I planned to take the baby to his nursery and go on with our lives.

None of that happened. We didn’t plan on his birth costing $100,000+ and I’m sure our insurance company didn’t either ;-)

He was born, fast, and he did not cry. He peed, on the Doctor, a sight I’ll never forget, but he did not cry. Four minutes passed and still no sounds of any kind. Finally, he grunted. Little, high-pitched grunts, they were actually cute. I could hear them but I could not see him. About ten minutes after birth, I got to hold him, for ten whole seconds. This was not what I’d planned.

He looked right into my eyes, which for some reason, took me by surprise. It was as if he knew who I was. I posed for two pictures and then he was taken away…for six hours.

03/27/11, 9:21 PM

He was gone for six hours, and I couldn’t remember what he looked like, other than what he looked like peeing on the Doctor at the moment of birth.

Since I had a baby, but ‘had’ no baby, I didn’t get that post-birth euphoria. Clearly I had no connection to that child in some other room who I couldn’t even remember what he looked like. That’s regret number one. Not getting to hold, nurse, or love-on him the moment of birth. I regret this so much since he is our only child and will be our only child. We waited so long for him and here he was…in some other room, where I couldn’t even see him. At least I got to hold him for a few seconds, so many preemie-parents don’t get to do that, and I understand that. But I can’t imagine what it’s like for them, all I have is my own experience.

I look at him now, a year later, and am filled with sadness when I think of his birth. I’m thrilled that he’s here and healthy and wonderful, it’s not that, it’s the actual process that was robbed from me. And since he’s our one and only, I’ll never have another opportunity to live that again. Of course, even if we did have another, there’s a much higher chance of them being a preemie too...so I'd probably just relive this all over again.

Six hours after his birth, a baby was brought to me sporting more wires and electronics than R2D2. He was screaming his head off, with about four ivs in his hand and a feeding tube rammed up his nose. I held him for about five minutes and posed for pictures.

Our first family photo, 03/28/10, around 3 am.

I remember he pulled my hair, something he still does, and pulled on my lower lip. Poor little fella was awful wiggly.

He didn't feel like my baby, he felt like…a baby. The paramedics were there telling me about the ambulance ride he was about to take and what the Doctors at the NICU so far away would be doing to him. It’s all a blur actually. I’d been awake for 42 hours by that point and had a 34 hour labor, 32 hours were unmediated, I was tired and I just wanted to hold my baby and sleep.

Well sleep I kind-of got, but the baby was whisked away in his little plastic bubble of a home and that was that. I had no visitors at all when I was in the hospital. The next day I asked Chris to not visit me, but to go spend the day with William in the NICU instead. For some reason, he had no trouble bonding with him, at all.

03/28/10, Chris and William in the NICU

Me, I sat alone, starving, in my hospital room finally looking at the pictures Chris had taken of William.

The next morning I was discharged and a few hours later, I got to experience the NICU. First, even though I had a great birth, I was bleeding very, very heavily. Getting into a car, driving 20 miles, walking a really, really long way to the NICU and then sitting straight up without my legs elevated isn’t exactly what you’re supposed to be doing immediately after giving birth. I had to pee about every 30 minutes and at the time, there was no bathroom in the NICU. Of course going to the bathroom right after giving birth isn’t exactly easy, or quick.

I’d barely make it to the hospital when I’d have to use the lobby bathroom. Then we’d get in the elevator and get to the NICU floor. Once there we had to remove our jewelry and our coats and wash our hands, surgical style. Then we had to be buzzed in. Once in I had to have my photo taken and I had to sign into a book on a special page just for William. Once they established I was family, we went to the other end of the unit where William was laying in his plastic isolette, still with tubes and wires. He was, of course, asleep…the entire time.

I was finally able to sit and hold him, but I didn’t really know him still. He still felt like ‘a’ baby. I brought with me the very little nourishment I was able to pump, which I believe was one drop and handed it to the nurse. He was under a little warmer and there were all kinds of monitors beeping and going off all the time. I didn’t know what they meant at first. Before I knew it, things like “cc’s” and “Bradys” would become part of my daily vocabulary.

03/29/10, My first trip to the NICU (It was his second day in the NICU and my first)

The NICU offered me the opportunity to stay across the street at the Ronald McDonald House, but I had out of town guests and two dogs to care for at home. Instead I drove and visited every day. Some days, I stayed for 3 hours, some days, 12. I held him and remarked how small he was. He was also slightly yellow at first.

I had no idea what his body looked like really, as he was covered from head to toe in swaddling blankets and a huge hat. I was told he was too young to eat, so he had the feeding tube instead.

The evening of March 29, 2010

He would occasionally forget to breathe, which would caused “Bradys” or bradycardia which basically was a lowering of the heart rate caused by apnea. Sometimes he'd just not breathe for up to 15 seconds. Those were the two main concerns, the two main reasons he was kept in the NICU.

He had a little help with oxygen but never had to be intubated. I still didn’t feel like a mother. He did not feel like my son. I think I was still in shock that my horrific pregnancy (which had been horrible since nearly day one) ended so quickly. On one hand I was glad to eat again for the first time in seven months, and all the horrible pain (round ligament and rib pain) was gone. I missed feeling the baby kick though, and I knew he should not have been born seven weeks and five days early.

He was a medium-rare baby and I know I ordered a well-done one. I had to send him back to cook more, and that would be our life for the next month.

Since I wasn’t home resting, bonding and being catered to by others, my bleeding got much worse. I was spending my days walking down hospital corridors and spending too much time in the car. Instead of sleeping, I was pumping every two-to-three hours around the clock. I worried about William that he’d take a turn for the worse, but slowly we began to bond some.

I’d get very anxious in the mornings. I’d wake up, pump and then I’d start to get very anxious to see him. I always waited until rush hour traffic died down since the hospital was downtown. Once on the road, I’d want to speed to get there as fast as possible. When I’d turn into the parking deck, all I wanted was to find the closest space (Which I almost never could…it was a very long walk from the parking garage to the NICU) and get inside ASAP. Once inside, I had to wait for the elevator. It seemed like such a long wait each time. Meanwhile I’d see children being wheeled in beds or chairs and babies being tugged in little red wagons. I saw very sick kids and very worried parents.

Once upstairs, I’d have to go to the bathroom and then I’d nearly run to the sinks to scrub up. I’d sign in as fast as possible and try to make it to William’s bed by 11am, in time for rounds. Rounds was the ONLY time I’d ever get to speak to a Doctor about him. I will say, the NICU did great by him, but we had some issues with a few nurses and I think I only spoke to a Doctor three times the entire month he was in there. I never really knew his true condition.

Also, NICUs never, ever, EVER give you an estimate of time your loved one will be in there. We assumed he’d remain until May 13^th, his due date. Most of the time when I’d arrive at his bed, he was swaddled and sleeping, and all alone. Sometimes I’d not even see his nurse until two hours later. I’d get so pissed. We’re paying God knows what for around the clock-intensive care for our son and two hours goes by without a nurse even walking by? What if something happened to him? Who was checking on him? Babies are supposed to be held, not swaddled and left alone for hours and hours and hours on end!

That’s when the guilt sets in. Guilt…and heavily swollen feet. About a five days after his birth, I arrived at the NICU to find a massive and frightening IV poking out of my son’s head! It took forever to find his nurse but she informed me, very matter-of-factly that “Oh we blew out his veins in his arms so we had to go into his head.” Oh that’s nice. The words Blew and Out regarding my one-week-old don’t sit well with me.

Between the stress, and the physical activity, and the lack of sleep, my feet had swollen to, I swear, at least five times their normal size. I had no shoes that fit. I looked like Fred Flintstone. My legs too. What killed me was the NICU only had two recliners, the rest were very uncomfortable office chairs. Thank God I had an easy birth, sitting all day on an office chair would have been torture otherwise. I’d get so mad because I’d limp into the NICU, carrying 20 pounds of feet and legs and probably the same amount in a near hemorrhage, only to find almost always both recliners being used by………..men. Stupid, useless men who had NOT just given birth, who were not bleeding heavily, and who most certainly did not carry the entire Great Lakes in their legs and feet.

The only cure for swelling that bad is elevation and a lot of urination. Well hell, each time I’d go to pee I’d have to walk, far, and then scrub back in and hope my seat was still there when I’d return. My day would start out holding the baby and waiting for a nurse to tell me his condition. Then I’d go pee again. Then I’d have to go pump for 40 minutes or so. Then I’d get to feed him from a bottle, maybe 1 cc, and the rest via feeding tube. Then I’d get to change his diaper and maybe give him a bath. Then it was time to pee again, pump again, feed again, and repeat.

I’d leave before rush hour or stay until it died down. I’d glare at the young, healthy men in the coveted recliners and get more and more pissed off by the minute. I loved holding my son but holding a sleeping baby, while bleeding and needing to pee and ever-swelling legs, in the most non-private environment known to man is not only boring, but a hassle. No one told me about skin-to-skin with him at that time, which would have benefited us both. Heck I couldn’t get a nurse to tell me if he had a fever or not half the time.

Some nurses were awesome and I’d be so happy when I’d see their name on his own white-board. There was a male nursing student who I loved. He was sweet and attentive. I remember the day he removed the head IV. The IV was fine, it was the tape stuck to William’s hair that was the worst. It took 10 minutes, the entire time, William screamed in pain. All I could do was hold his hand, which was covered in tape and wires, and talk to him.

Some days he couldn’t maintain his temperature so he was under a heating lamp. Some days he was just swaddled, alone, and sleeping. Some days he was crying and wet. You never know what to expect in the NICU.

The first night I was able to see him, March 29^th, I changed my first ever diaper. I had the help of two nurses who talked me through it. He had what we came to call…mustard-butt. The very liquid, very yellow poo that got everywhere. I did a good job though. Chris changed the next one and got pood on. It was projectile poo, something I thought was legend. It was then we realized we had yet another hurdle. William was allergic to milk-based-formula.

He’d lost a bit of weight and had diarrhea. I was told to continue with the breast milk but for supplement, he’d have to have soy. They said it could take up to three weeks for the soy to kick in and stop his runny poo, that’s three extra weeks in the NICU…not what anyone wants to hear. The good news was it only took a week.

About 10 days after his birth my feet had gone back to normal but I was still bleeding like crazy. The good news was they FINALLY put a bathroom (Just for moms) IN the NICU, so no more walking and scrubbing back in. It’s amazing how much we love the little things. It was like a dream come true. Around that same time he got moved from his larger bed, to a smaller one just across, next to the window, to make room for a new, smaller, sicker baby. Baby “C” was only 13 ounces and he got William’s old bed. I only saw him once, for a second…so tiny. We felt so bad for the parents, what they must be going through. Baby “C” was the smallest the NICU had ever had.

His parents couldn’t hold him. Couldn’t feed him. Couldn’t even touch him I don’t think. I’d see his Mom in the pumping room and she always seemed to calm to me. By this point I had fallen much deeper in love with William, though I still felt as if we’d not bonded totally yet. I couldn’t imagine being “C’s” mom. The good news is, Baby C is nearly one now and is doing great! He’s big and has been home for quite some time. See, NICUs are great things!

The first and only time I really cried about William was eleven or so days after his birth. Chris and I were holding him and he was actually awake. He’d been awake a lot lately. His eyes were the deepest shade of blue. He was a very quiet baby, who’d just stare into our eyes. By that point, he was getting 7 out of 8 bottles a day of breast milk, and the soy was working better for him. On that day, we had to leave and I put him down in his plastic isolette. His eyes were still open. I walked away to go sign out and I made the mistake of turning back to look at him and he had turned his head and was still looking at me. Now I know he couldn’t see me from 20 feet away, but I saw his eyes, which happened to be staring into mine and that’s when I finally lost it.

He was awake and…alone. No one was nearby to hold him if he cried. And we had to leave. I was miserable all night long. I wanted him home. I could give him food via feeding tube from home! His breathing was good but he still suffered from multiple “Bradys” each day. He’d have to go seven straight days without one Brady in order to go home. He’d also need to drink, on his own, 8 FULL bottles a day (full being 25-30 cc’s).

I vowed on that day never again to leave the NICU while he was still awake. One day, I stayed for I think about 18 hours, waiting for him to fall asleep and stay asleep. Sometimes I’d get 10 feet away and he’d open his eyes. Just knowing my baby was alone, surrounded by people, but still so alone, hurt more than anything. He needed to be held! This is when NICU hell kicked in.

The last three weeks were real hell. I wanted my baby home with me. I was robbed of a good birth. When I left the hospital on March 29^th, a cold and rainy morning…it was just me. I had no flowers, no gifts…and most importantly…no baby. I was wheeled out, alone, while Chris pulled the truck to the entrance. I always thought I’d have balloons and stuffed animals and flowers and above all, a baby in my arms when I left the hospital. Instead all I had was a Candy-Striper who was, no joke, 19039 years old and got freakin’ lost wheeling me out the door!

I was home; up every two hours, but not to feed a baby….I had to feed a pump instead. I was always cataloging and chilling and transporting milk, and getting the NICU nurses to take the milk to refrigerate in a timely fashion was no easy task either. I just wanted him home. I thought I’d not truly bond until he got home. A good birth was robbed from me, and now the first month was being robbed too. A month I’d never get back. I’ll have a little newborn to hold and care for again. I’m also weird, my favorite baby-stage is the first one…the newborn stage. Those first few weeks when they do nothing.

I imagined I’d have that little baby of mine, at home with me, and I’d just hold him all day, and then put him in his crib at night. Instead I was 20 miles from my baby and he slept in a tiny isolette instead of the gorgeous nursery we’d created for him. Yes, I got to hold him every day but I felt like a part-time…nanny. I’ll never get that first month back, ever.

Each day I grew angrier and angrier. Hormones weren’t helping either. Really hardly any of my friends (but one) ever dealt with this. My sister-in-law had a few months prior, one of her babies came home after about two weeks, the other, after about three. I remember thinking at the time what hell that must be for her. Now, I was living it. So we had very little support from anyone, no one really knew what we were going through. Chris was back to work a week later and I was commuting, pumping, and holding and bathing him when I could.

As a new mother, no one was taking care of me. I was cooking and cleaning and running errands and…bleeding. I was so tired, but I had to keep pumping. Finally I was able to nurse him about two weeks in but he only latched for about three seconds and then fell asleep. He always fell asleep at the bottle too. Until he finished 8 whole bottles a day he could not come home. I’d get so mad, not at him, just mad, when he’d have ¼ or maybe ½ of a bottle and then fall asleep. Eating was such a tiresome thing for him at that time.

I was beginning to think he’d never come home. We’d see other babies leave and we’d be so jealous. Nearly all were there longer than him, were smaller and sicker than him. Why couldn’t he eat? No Doctor could tell us. The first month of his life was drawing closer when he finally finished a bottle. I’d just decided on that day, that he WOULD finish a bottle. I told him, my mother, and the nurse, “He will finish this bottle.” And they laughed. I said “No, this is a bunch of crap! He’s finishing this bottle and that’s the end of it!”

I undressed him so he was cold and kept him awake as best I could. I talked to him and told him to finish that bottle. He was getting close and I had a feeling that would be the day, and it was! Only took three weeks. He even finished his next one three hours later. But it took a few days for him to finish all eight bottles and of course they upped the amount he had to eat too. I was beginning to think it was a conspiracy to keep him in longer.

Every now and then his monitor would go off, signaling another Brady, and the seven-day countdown would start over. Chris and I really were beginning to think he’d stay in the NICU two months, or more. He had multiple Bradys a day and never seemed to finish all eight bottles. We were angry now…all the time. I was in a horrid mood, 24 hours a day. It’s bad enough the first month of his life was spent in a hospital, but now we have to wait seven straight days without a single Brady? Impossible! We’d ask the nurse every so often when he was coming home.

Finally she said “Look, when we ask you to bring in his car-seat for inspection and give you the form to consent to his circumcision that means he’ll be going home within 48 hours. I have no idea when that’ll be.”

Nice. When would that be? Before he turns 18 I hope! Hell, Hell, Hell…we were in hell. He was alone, isolated, and we were new parents, at home, without a baby. Could things be worse? Of course! Things could have been so much worse. I started pre-term labor at 24 weeks, that would have been worse. I began to bleed, heavy, and no heart beat was found at what we thought was my sixth week. We had to wait a whole week, thinking we were miscarrying, to look again for a heartbeat, which obviously, we found. It took two and a half years to get pregnant. We were told we’d never, ever conceive a child. We’d been through so much. All we wanted was a healthy baby, at home, with us. We are both older than dirt and after that pregnancy and infertility, this is our only child. We just want what so many other people had…to have a baby, carry that baby from the hospital…and go home.

And that’s finally what we did. On April 25, 2010, the nurse told me to bring his car-seat for inspection the next day and asked to authorize his circumcision (That’s for another blog). I couldn’t believe it. I called Mom in shock. I texted Chris at home, who was recovering from surgery. I texted everyone. We got the car-seat, we got him circumcised and then they said on the next day, he could go home.

I ran out and bought balloons and got a cake that said “Welcome Home.” We got a “Welcome Home” banner and got his pack-n-play all ready for him. We got his “take home” outfit all ready too, as it was a tad chilly in late April.

On April 27^th, he was one month old, he weighed 5 pounds and 13 ounces, and he was ready to come home. I didn’t get to carry him like I’d always wanted. Instead I had to go get the car while Mom and Chris accompanied the nurse who wheeled him out in a carriage. She then put the car-seat in the car for us and said “Good bye! Good luck.” My son was in my car. Chris was in the back and Mom was in the front and Peter Frampton was playing on the satellite radio. We were parents of a baby that was coming home to live with us. I could hold him as much as I wanted. I’d never have to be separated from him again, at least, until he is an adult.

I was only pregnant for seven months. But I went eight without my baby really being with me. I guess it was kind of like I was pregnant that extra month. He was home with us…and finally, we were a family….thanks to the NICU.

The dreaded head-IV

April 1, 2010

April 1, 2011

http://preemies.about.com/od/preemieagesandstages/ss/PrematureBabiesWeekbyWeek_7.htm

Baby Orzo Pasta that everyone will love...

2011-01-31T17:28:00.004-05:00

As most of you know by now, I don't do baby food. Finding table food for William was a challenge though, until I tried this awesome recipe for orzo! Orzo is pasta, but it's small and looks like rice. It's so simple for babies to gum on, chew on, and swallow without choking. This is also something adults can eat too and love, so no need to cook separate meals! All stores sell orzo, even Wal-Mart. I boil my orzo is chicken stock, then I shred zucchini, carrots and white meat chicken and add to the pasta using a box grater, or a zester.

Ingredients

1 box of Orzo

1 box of low sodium chicken stock/broth, or three cups of homemade (Can use veggie stock too)

1 large carrot

1 zucchini

1 boiled or baked, unseasoned, chicken breast (Skin off)

Shred the chicken, zucchini and carrots into a bowl and set aside while the broth/stock comes to a soft boil. Add the orzo and keep stirring! I did this in a medium sized non-stick pot. Keep stirring or it'll cake up and stick. It takes about 9 minutes to boil. Five minutes before it's done, add the shredded meat and veggies. Once the orzo is cooked, turn the heat off and put the lid on and let it sit for a little while. The orzo should suck up all the juice. I don't add any seasoning, the broth has enough.

For a little baby, 6-12 months, add about a tablespoon of luke warm orzo to a bowl and let them eat about 1-2 pieces of orzo at a time.

William loves it, and I must admit, it's really good for adults too.

Goat cheese and steak white pizza

2011-01-01T19:59:00.006-05:00

We made it, it twas delicious!

Ingredients

Flank steak

goat cheese

minced garlic

olive oil

red wine vinegar

shredded mozzarella cheese

roma or sun dried tomatoes

Red Pepper Flakes

(Seasonings)

Grated Parmesan cheese

pizza crust

(All ingredients are 'eye-balled', add as much or as little as you like, for the crust I use Bobby Flay's recipe)

Pre-Heat oven to 400 degrees

Make your own pizza crust or purchase a dough ball, the kind you roll out, not that Boboli crap...1 hour before, thinly slice your steak and marinate in red wine vinegar, olive oil, minced garlic, salt, pepper, onion powder, Italian seasoning, *optional red pepper flakes*. In a separate bowl, thinly slice and marinate the tomatoes using the same marinate recipe.

For the sauce of the pizza, combine olive oil, red pepper flakes and grated parm cheese, brush onto the pizza crust. Using a skillet high heat, sear the flank steaks for about 30 seconds on each side. Add the steaks and marinated tomatoes to the pizza. Break off chunks of goat cheese and add to the pizza. Top entire pizza with a handful of shredded mozzarella cheese and bake for 15 minutes. For extra crispy top, broil on high for 1 minute.

Enjoy!

Infertility, the universe's ultimate bitch-slap!

2010-12-01T12:55:00.008-05:00

I'm a somewhat philosophical person. I also enjoy science, anthropology, and history. Never mind women's-lib or the new millennium, when it comes down to it, human's are made to, and meant to, reproduce, and that's really all there is. Nature does not care if you desire children, nature does not care if you can afford children, and nature doesn't care if you're too young or old for children. If you have the remote capability of having or siring a child, Nature will do everything in her power to ensure you do just that. She'll send women monthly reminders. For men, she sends a daily, (often in the morning) reminder that your goal that day, is to procreate.

Nature tells you to write that little note to your friends, telling them how cute "he" is. Nature tells "him" to ask her out. Nature tells construction workers to whistle at every woman of child-bearing age who walks by.

Sure, you can try to ignore her. Tell her to go to hell. But never forget this, Nature has one hell of a sense of humor. Never forget that she's infamous for her sneak-attacks. Nature can be an evil little Trickster!

More often than not, the day comes when Nature shows up, knocking at your door. You can choose not to answer, but she won't go away. She's like a bill-collector constantly calling you, all hours of the day and night, and especially holidays. Eventually, 85% of all humans open that door. Not only do they open it, but they welcome Nature into their homes. Some do it reluctantly mind you, but in the end, Nature usually wins.

There are some who still try to fight off Nature. Locking your door does not always ensure Nature will go away. She can creep through unlocked windows, maybe even your chimney! Don't forget those sneak-attacks that she's notorious for. Sometimes, she breaks the door down even...I mean, it's her job after all.

Of course knocking is just her nice way of letting you know she's there. More often than not, whether or not you open the door, she finds a way to come in for a visit, and there's not much you can do to successfully stop her.

Of course there are a lucky few who manage to elude her, but not all are by choice, in fact, I venture most are not by choice. Some open the door willingly only to find no one waiting for them on the porch. Some, keep the door unlocked, waiting for Nature's visit. Sometimes Nature never arrives, and for someone who's sitting in their living room 24 hours day, dressed, ready, with fresh cookies and a nice pot of tea steeping, Nature never arriving is the worst thing in the world. That person put everything on hold to sit there, ready, just waiting for a knock that will never come. And that's a very sad thing.

For most of us who are/were waiting for Nature, she just comes really late. Sometimes, she gets lost. SOMEONE NEEDS TO BUY HER A GPS!!!! When the time came for me to open the door to Nature...she was lost, driving around with a lousy Mapquest print-out probably, struggling to find her way to my house....for years...and years. I'm not a fan of anyone in my life being tardy. So I sat...and I waited....and waited....and waited.

We were dressed, we had the guest room all ready and waiting for Nature, but she didn't come when we were expecting her. Finally she called one day to tell us she was running really late, and that there was a less than 1% chance of her EVER coming to our house. Talk about a slap in the face. At least she called, but still....less than 1% is like....zero. But it's not absolute-zero. Less than 1% meant we had to keep the guest room ready, and we had to sit and wait for her in-case she decided to grace us with her presence.

The worst part of it was, the window of time that she could knock on our door was dwindling with each passing day. Even if she did come, since she was coming so late, the chance of her doing what needed to be done and it all turning out well was becoming very slim.

Each month, like clock work, she sent a reminder to me that she was not coming. One month, she forgot to send the reminder! So I really expected her at any moment, only to find she never intended to call on us that month. I guess her secretary 'forgot' to send me the "She's not coming" memo. About two weeks later, I finally got word she wasn't coming. Nature can be a tease...again, evil Trickster.

Finally I told her that we were not going to be home and to not bother even thinking of knocking on my door that month. We had plans....and we'd waited for two and a half years for her, and we simply couldn't sit around the house waiting that month. I guess her secretary forgot to give her that memo, because that's precisely when she granted us with a sneak-attack!

Yup...I accidentally/on purpose got pregnant. The oxymoron to end all oxymoron's. We kept the door unlocked just in case she decided to show up while we were home, and, well, she did.

The rest is history. She lied. What can I say.

Okay, enough of the cutesy minutia. That flowery description was for those of you who like my writing. For the rest, and for those who can't/don't think outside the box, here's how I really feel about infertility. It's a bunch of crap!

Like I said in the beginning, reproduction is the only reason we are here on this planet. Not just us, animals, plants, even viruses. Everything needs to reproduce. Not everything wants to though. I sure didn't. I did not want kids....ever. Kids...are...crap. I actually still feel this way. I can't stand kids, I detest children. Children are mean, self-absorbed, locust-like rapers of the natural world as we know it. Yup. I do feel this way. Despite this, I still had a burning desire to have one of these creatures of my own. And I don't care what you have to say in defense of these often smelly creatures. I don't like them. I still don't like them.

That's what amazes me. I don't like children, yet I wanted one. ONE. LOL. Not only did I want one but that's all I could think about. I guess it hit me when I was 30 years old or so. Yup, Nature came late, and then she didn't even do her job for five more years! The human need to reproduce is that strong, so strong it could take a person like myself and turn them into one of those people who understood what it was like to just take someone's child from their womb. Yeah, it's sick, but I understand why someone could crack and do that. Not that I ever would. :-)

I feel the need to say this in very large print to get my point across. Infertility is one of those things that unless you've experienced it yourself, you'll NEVER understand it. Ever!!!

You can try to imagine it, but you'll never understand. It's a small club, thankfully. The day you're told you'll never have children, for whatever reason, is the day you realize that you are a cosmic-failure. Survival of the fittest? Well that's not you. You are so unworthy, your genes can't even move forward. The buck must stop with you, because you're just a mammoth-loser. You may as well just kill yourself now to save the universe from having to kill you off itself. It's like getting a postcard from the Universe saying "You Suck!" Yup, you just got the world's biggest, clearest middle finger shoved in your face, you understand what I mean? Chances are you don't, since I only know very few people who've struggled with infertility.

I'll admit, I didn't understand it when my friend struggled with it 10 years ago. Sure, I felt bad for her, but there's nothing you can do! Kids are crap like I said earlier, and if you can't have them, so be it, move on with life.

After you're told that you will NEVER, ever, ever conceive a child, these are the things you do not want to hear from friends or family:

Some people aren't meant to have children

If it's meant to happen, it will

Oh well, you never wanted them all that much anyway, so why are you so upset now?

Go buy one

There's always adoption

Gee, (I get pregnant)/(I got her pregnant) just by saying the word pregnant, sure was simple for me!

We were told each of those lines, more than once, from ignorant people who just didn't understand. And thank God they didn't understand, because if they did, that would mean that they too were infertile, which would make this an epidemic. It's so easy to just blow it off as not a big deal. Let's face it, most people take for granted things that they never worked for. Most people take pregnancy for granted, and that's good! It should be that easy. It's meant to be that simple.

Yes, some people find reproduction to be a burden, some people find it a blessing, however you feel about it, the fact remains that it's fundamental to our being, and it's what we're meant to do. As a woman you are defined by your ability to have children. When you don't/can't, it makes you feel like less of a woman. As a man, you are supposed to sire children, I can only imagine that when you don't/can't, you too, feel like less of a man.

Walking around feeling like the world's biggest loser every day does wear on you. This breaks up marriages. Usually it's just one of you that's infertile, not both, so there's always guilt and blame. It's kind of like death, (in a sense, it's a death of your line after all) first you're in denial, then you're angry, then sad, then you grieve, but it's always with you. You see people all over with children and you wonder, are they worthy? You see a pregnant woman, and you hate her.

Unlike death, infertility isn't always permanent. You can get through it. For most infertile couples, money saves the day, and the family name. Money can pay for necessary fertility treatments and drugs, nearly none of which are covered by medical insurance. Money can pay for an adoption (You didn't think that was free did you?) or to purchase a baby even. Money. Yes, money. Obviously we lacked money. We couldn't afford in-vitro. We couldn't even afford the very expensive testing (over $2,500, none covered by insurance) to find out that we WERE infertile. Of course, we had no choice but to seek specialist's help, but naturally we couldn't afford their 'solutions' to our problem.

Most people can't. It's very, very expensive. Adoption is very expensive and good luck getting a newborn baby too. So not only are you too big a loser to reproduce, but you're too poor too as well. Let's add some insult to that injury shall we? One can't help but be negative about infertility when they are put in that position.

"You're too lame to pass your genes on, because you're a loser and you suck. You'll never pass your genes along. Now, if you give me $25,000, "maybe" your genes can be passed by tricking Nature....Nature is pretty kick-ass, unlike you, and it's expensive to trick her. Oh, you don't have $25,000 laying around? Well, screw you! The buck ends with you, as it should, because you are the world's most giant loser ever, and the buck ending with you is a good thing for humanity. Have a nice day."

Carry that on your shoulders day in and day out. Now, look upon the person "Who's fault it is" and try not to tear their head off! It takes a strong marriage to not end over something like this. How does one not walk around depressed all the time after this? How is one not filled with rage all the time? A lifetime's full of hopes and dreams shattered because you're inept, or the person you chose as your partner is inept, or even worse, you're both inept.

I met a person who had the worst of the worst in the infertility universe....they had...."Unexplained Infertility."

At least we had an explanation. My husband was, in fact....sterile. Now why remains a mystery. We had that, mixed with my poor health and advancing age, and then 18 months into our quest, ovarian cysts, all of which made it impossible for us to conceive. Our only chances were in-vitro with a good sperm of his, IF one could even be found, or artificial insemination with a sperm donor....which is what we decided to do, once we could afford it.

But there was that whole money thing, and our lack of the funds required for said inseminations. So, we had to try the old fashioned way. If you thought being infertile was stressful and depressing, try defying the odds and attempting to do the impossible...month after month, when logic screams at you to just stop because your attempts are futile.

The time, and money and thought involved with constantly charting and calculating ovulation dates month after month is exhausting....and why were we even doing that? Without sperm, one can't get pregnant. Month after month you spend half of the month trying to get pregnant and the other half thinking you are, when in fact, you aren't, and never will be. Each month when your period is approaching you wonder if your boobs are sore because you're pregnant, or are they sore because you're not?

You dream of seeing a positive pregnancy test. It's a dream that will likely never be realized. You stare at the multiple negative ones and wonder if you're reading them wrong. You also spend a fortune on those darn things, paying for disappointment.

God forbid you're even one day late. You run out to the drug store and get a pregnancy test, only to have it read negative over and over, month after month. People tell you to get a good, expensive one, so that's what you do. You hear about false-negatives and remain optimistic. (In the end, I found out I was pregnant on a $6 two pack of Kroger brand tests at Chris's insistence, since I'd given up on taking pregnancy tests.)

I told you earlier what you DON'T want to hear when you find out you're infertile. You're probably wondering what we want to hear. Well other than "You're pregnant"....nothing. "I understand" coming from someone who's been through it helps, "I"m so sorry to hear this" never hurts. A good, honest, "I just can't imagine" is benign enough.

There's nothing really to be said. Even the good stories people tell you don't really help. We got tons of the "Oh my mother's, neighbor's, son's, receptionist's, hairdresser was told they'd never conceive and now she has four kids...." tales don't actually help. At least, they didn't help me. I'm not that person's mother's, neighbor's, son's, receptionist's, hairdresser so this does not apply to me.

Logically I knew the stories were true. I also knew more often than not, infertility led to nothing but a life full of sorrow and loneliness.

When you want a baby, and can't have one, it dominates every thought and ever fiber of your being. Every time you hear that someone is pregnant, it doesn't matter who....a friend, a family member, a celebrity even, you suddenly hate that person. Why do they deserve a child and I don't? Why are they worthy to pass their genes while mine have to die off? Sure, you lie and tell them "Congratulations!" to their face but behind their back, you're filled with sadness and envy.

Then you see some baby with a parent walking down the street, and the parent is clearly a loser moron piece of trash. That piece of work was able to pass their genes, but I'm not? What's wrong with the universe when homeless crack heads can have and sire babies, but we can't? Those are the days you're full of rage, bitterness and utter hatred.

Then you have to go shopping for baby showers for friends and family, when all you want is for them not to have the baby. 'Because "I" can't have a baby, no one should' is the thinking. It's irrational and immature, but it is what it is. In the end are you happy for the friends and family who have the baby? Sure, but it's difficult to overcome the envy and sadness. Talk about feeling inadequate.

Now you may ask, how did Chris and I survive this? I have no idea. I can't speak for him. I can't tell you how he dealt with the prognosis. I can tell you he did lose hope, in the end. He accepted our fate, that it would be just us two, forever. Just us two isn't a bad thing mind you, but I didn't feel that way.

I can't really explain my feelings. I can try to put them into words, but all I can do is try to convey to you, that I always knew that I would have a baby. Maybe not 'his' baby (remember the sperm donor scenario?) but I knew we'd somehow have a baby. I knew it would not be adoption or foster care, it'd be a real, biological baby, and I hoped I'd not be Kate Plus 8! :-)

I just knew that in the end, there would be a baby. True, I'm way too cool NOT to pass my genes along...No, I'm not maternal, at all, we all know that...I'm all for that women's lib crap, women can be astronauts and not have babies if they don't want to, blah blah blah....I don't need a baby to feel complete....In fact, I don't need a baby, at all. I simply wanted one, I don't know why, I just know I wanted one. I wanted a boy too, just one. I always get what I want, in the end. I may not get it the way I intended, but I get what I want.

I wanted a house, I have a house. I wanted to go to Europe, I went to Europe. I wanted to get married, I got married. I wanted to go to college, I went to college....and lastly, I wanted a baby....I had a baby. My bucket list is complete, time to die now! LOL!

How many tears did I shed in the 2.5 years we struggled with infertility? Not one. How many days did I feel we should just give up? None. When did I realize it would just never happen? Not once. How often did I talk about this? Not very. People don't know what to say, and you don't like to mention it. It's a private, internal struggle and in the end, only you and your partner truly know what's going on.

To contradict myself, yes, I was shocked to discover I was pregnant. Mainly because we took that month off ;-) but even though I KNEW we'd have a baby, I was still in shock that we defied the odds, and overcame infertility. Not only did we overcome, but we bitch-slapped Nature in the face by doing it the old fashioned way, the "natural" way. It wasn't science or even luck, it was just what happened, it's what was supposed to happen.

Had I conceived the first time we tried in 2007, we'd not have William. If we could have afforded in-vitro, we'd not have William. Artificial insemination would not result in William either. I said it before, I'm thankful that it took us 2.5 years to conceive, had it been any other egg and any other sperm, we'd not have William. Even though I went 16 years of my life not wanting children, as weird as it sounds, I feel like I've been waiting for William my entire life, and this is the struggle Chris and I had to go through to get him...him and only him. It turns out, I didn't want a 'baby'....I wanted William, and like I said, I always get what I want.

11/13/10, Food Fight!

2010-11-14T08:25:00.002-05:00

We thought perhaps it was time to start William on solid foods, well as it turns out, William didn't care for food much. We've never seen him make such a face. He didn't like the look of it, the feel of it, the smell of it or the taste of it. We put a tiny, itsy piece of banana on his tongue and he gagged, and then puked up a bunch of breast milk, and was pretty annoyed with us.
We tried avocado first but that just really irritated him. He was really disgusted with that. Since he refused to even open his mouth for it we switched to squashed banana and he didn’t want that either. We're doing baby-led-weaning, which means in a nutshell, the baby feeds himself what he chooses and when. You offer them 'real' food, like fruits and vegetables, and let them play with it and then they can choose to put it into their mouths themselves, or not. He did not do this. LOL...he played, kind of, but was instantly annoyed with the feel of the food. So I did go and try to put some in his mouth, which is when he said in no uncertain terms "NO"....so clearly he's not ready.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baby-led_weaning

I’m thinking his tongue-thrust reflex is still there, since he pushed the food right out. Most babies will enjoy banana, which he clearly didn't. Breast milk is very sweet so sweet veggies and fruits usually work well but he just didn't seem ready to me.

http://www.askdrsears.com/html/3/t032000.asp

I may try some organic brown rice cereal mixed with breast milk next week, just to see if he'll even put it in his mouth. I'm holding off on wheat for now, maybe another two months or so, it's a little harder on their digestive system and William has always had a pretty bad digestive system to begin with.
We got video of him refusing the food and making that awful face but it's taking a lifetime to upload, so I'll send it later when it's done. It's on Facebook right now though.
Enjoy the pictures!

My thoughts on labor...

2010-11-07T16:25:00.015-05:00

(Exactly one week before William was born)

For the majority of my life, I never wanted kids. I had a million reasons, but one was fear of pregnancy, labor, and delivery. Well, it's safe to say I got this fear from my mother, who had a lot of morning sickness, had a normal labor but a horrific delivery. She even needed two transfusions. Well you hear that story your whole life and if you're a girl, then you more than likely never want to give birth, unless you are a moron.

So for reasons unknown to me, I changed my mind....about the baby thing, not about the birth thing. I did NOT want to pass a child through my....body...in any way. I'll admit it, I wanted a C-Section. Why? Well for one reason, nearly every single one of my friends had a C-Section, in fact, all of my best friends had C-Sections, so none of them could give me the nitty-gritty of pushing a child out through their....body....and the aftermath. Each time a friend of mine told me they ended up having a C-Section (all five of them) I thought to myself, "LUCKY! Watch me be the 'one' who gives birth vaginally." Of course knowing what I know now...my hat is OFF to all my C-Section friends! You're braver than I....major abdominal surgery does NOT sound fun at all!

So after hearing Mom's horror story over and over for years, and reading horror stories online regarding donuts and forceps and peri-bottles and vacuums and horrific pain for months afterwards, I decided that a C-Section was the way to go. I'll admit it, I was thrilled when my Dr told me around 6 weeks that my pelvis was small, and I'd have difficulty delivering a baby more than 8lbs. I said "Great!" Which shocked her. I said "Awesome, so...like a week before my due date you can give me a C-Section?" She said, "Well, if the baby is over 8 lbs, sure, I can, since your pelvis is so small, but it's not required should you want to try for a vaginal birth." I said "Oh no, a C-Section does not frighten me!" So she thought I was nuts, who cares.

One of my friends said her C-Sections were no big deal, the other said hers were awful, the rest said they weren't the greatest thing known to man, but not the worst either. Some of my friends endured long labors before ending up in the OR, some never felt a labor pain. No one could give me a good description of what labor felt like, other than Mom who said it's the worst pain in the world. But since I wasn't going to go into labor, it really didn't matter. I was also not going to find out the sex before hand, not going to breastfeed, and was NEVER going to co-sleep. ;-)

The sicker I got in my God-Awful pregnancy (http://sobe73.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-thoughts-on-pregnancy.html) the less I wanted to endure the unknowns of labor and delivery. Since the only person I knew well enough to ask about labor and delivery was my Mom, she's all I had to go by. Granted she was ASLEEP for the birth (Twilight sleep) but she remembered labor and the post-delivery very well. As my pregnancy got a little better and I began to feel like a human again, I remembered how much my gall-bladder surgery hurt, and how much more my lymph-node removal surgery hurt. Then I remembered, I freakin' HATE surgery! Why on Earth would I want to be tied down to a tiny table and have a kid ripped out of my abdomen? I'm highly allergic to General Anesthesia, what if I needed that in an emergency situation? What if I can feel them digging around my gut searching for the kid?

So....I changed my mind. I changed my mind about a lot of things. I decided to 'try' for a vaginal birth, with NO pain meds, yeah you heard me right, to attempt breastfeeding immediately following the birth, and to maybe even get a Douala. Well, of course, none of that happened either LOL, but my heart was in the right place.

I told people the story of my periods. I was blessed with the most horrific periods known to man. I never vomited from my menstrual cramps, but they were paralyzing, literally. Let me be clear, when I say paralyzing, I mean I could not walk, could not stand, could not sit...I was curled in a tight ball for days and days, unable to move or speak. No drug on Earth helped. Thankfully I only got 2-3 periods a year or else I'd flunked out of school and lost every job. My cramps are always in my back for some reason, like a knife being dug into my spine, non stop. I asked people if labor felt like really bad menstrual cramps and people would laugh and say "No, not really, labor is soooo much worse, way, way worse, like a million times worse..."

Well what can be worse than that? I remember one day at my last job I had these cramps from hell but I was able to walk if I was hunched all the way over. So I told everyone at work that I threw out my back since I couldn't stand up-right. That pain was really bad, if labor was a million times worse than it must be the single worst thing a human being could endure. YIKES!

I ended up taking the pill for nearly 10 years, it took a solid year of being on the pill for my periods to regulate and for the cramps to be tolerable. When I say tolerable, I meant if I took a bunch of Advil, I could walk really hunched over if I had to. After a year on the pill the cramps were....somewhat....tolerable. If I were really doped up I could get by with a slight hunch to my back. So, I figured I knew pain, and I knew really bad pain, but if labor was a million times worse than that, forget it!

Chris and I never really had the opportunity to discuss labor. He knew to probably massage my back but we never talked about our birth plan, or any plan. I told him I wanted to go drug free, and he of course laughed, as did everyone else....but I did tell him I wanted NO IV drugs. I hear they do nothing but make you stoned and I didn't want that.

Since I didn't want to give birth to a baby larger than 8 lbs, I always thought that a week before my due date of May 13th, or if he became too large prior to that, my Dr would induce me and then within 24 hours I'd have the baby. I could take the pain for 24 hours. 24 hours is not a huge deal. Besides, I'd probably deliver before 24 hours. Chris would be there with me, he and no one else and he'd rub my back if I needed it. I'd walk the halls with my IV of pitocin and maybe use the birthing ball. My Dr said I could give birth on my side if I wanted to, or even on all fours, anything but squatting since she had a really bad experience with that once.

I'd have my bag packed and we'd go to the hospital and two days later me and the baby would come home, and hopefully the only donuts in my house would be the edible kind. I told my Dr no episiotomy and she agreed that they were unnecessary. I loved my Dr and I wanted her to deliver me. I'd seen her weekly for nearly my entire pregnancy.

On Wednesday March 24th I saw my Dr and she did one final test to see if I'd go into labor early. I'd been in pre-term labor since about week 24 and dilated since week 29. She really, really wanted me to make it to week 33 for the baby's sake. On Wednesday she checked me, I was still dilated 1.5 centimeters and she did the fetal fibronectin test, I'd had five (http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/fetal-fibronectin/MY00128). The next day, I reached the coveted 33 weeks. The next day, March 26th at 11am...my water broke.

It came in a little squirt. Followed by another little squirt, followed by mild menstrual cramps. I was in denial. As was Chris, as was Mom. None of us wanted me to be in labor. Of course my Dr was on vacation that weekend and some other Dr in the practice saw me that day at noon. He said my fetal fibronectin came back negative and I was not in labor. He was wrong. I began to leak more and bleed. The fluid was clear and odorless that day but he sent me home, even with the cramps.

The cramps got worse and worse as the day progressed. It still didn't occur to me that I was in labor. I wasn't having a Taurus baby in March!!!! The pain was all in my back and by evening, the pain was very bad. I didn't want to see that same Dr again, so I suffered. Around 10pm the pain escalated. I had to have Chris massage my back in bed all night long. Around 1am I went to throw up, from the pain....I still didn't believe I was in labor. Maybe it was something else, anything else. Besides, the pain WAS menstrual cramps and everyone told me labor didn't feel like that.

At 10am on March 27th, 23 hours after the initial squirt and twinge of pain, a different Dr from my practice, a Dr I liked, said to get to the hospital ASAP. I called Chris at work and at 11am, we arrived at the hospital. As soon as I got into the gown and sat on the bed in triage, a huge gush of warm, greenish, icky water with big-little chunky things in it poured onto the bed. The Dr walked in and laughed, she said "Well no need to see if you're water is breaking or not, your water is clearly breaking."

Since I was barely 33 weeks, she wanted me to stay pregnant as long as possible. She hoped for one more week. But the more she talked, the more icky nasty stuff came pouring out and let me tell you, that stuff is gross. It's just so gross! It's not like the movies. The day before it was clear but this was like Jaba the Hut Snot, mixed with Jaba piss, shooting out all over my legs and the bed. They had me walk, oozing a trail of nasty Jaba-Juice, to my room in Labor and Delivery. I asked if they'd clean me up, they said sure, but never did. Eww!

It dawned on me at that moment that not only was I in labor, but I'd been in labor for 25 hours already. At noon, Chris left to get my bags and get my mother, and I was all alone. I never thought I'd have a baby nearly two months early. I never thought I'd go into spontaneous labor. Most of all, I never thought I'd labor alone in a room for nearly 90 minutes. It was a very long, very lonely, painful 90 minutes. My phone had bad reception so I couldn't even talk to anyone, but I could text.

There was no Doula, no nurse, no Chris, no one but me. It...sucked. The pain was bad but not horrific, but bad enough that I would have enjoyed a back massage. More and more water trickled out, spreading grossness all over me and the bed, while my back pain got stronger and stronger. My contractions had been non stop since 11am the day before and they weren't about to spread out then either. They were 1 minute apart the entire time, and it was 100% back labor, which people say is unbearable.

Finally Chris showed up. The Dr came in and offered me IV drugs, since I was only 2 centimeters and could not have an epidural. I said "NO" and she looked at me like I was insane, then she looked at Chris. Don't look at Chris, he's not in labor, I am and I said NO! She said "Are you sure?" I said, "Yes, I don't want to be loopy." I could tell she really thought I was insane but she pressed the subject no more. I rolled over on my right side, the only side I could lay on, and asked Chris to massage my lower back.

At 2pm, he left to do God knows what, and I began to throw up. I called the nurse and Mom got me a trash can, but the Nurse came in with a little bucket in the nick of time. I didn't know why I was throwing up. I'd not eaten in a day and I WAS in pain, however, it wasn't the worst pain known to man. Surely I wasn't in 'transition' already!

Finally Chris came back and I told him to rub my back. So long as he rubbed my back, the pain was tolerable. It dawned on me afterwards, that everything for the most part was perfect during my labor. Since I never told Chris my expectations of his role during labor (I intended to, but I went into labor before I ever could) but even though we never talked about, we just clicked! It's as if he read my mind...and my mind said "Leave me alone! Just rub my back and shut up!" LOL.

I was in 'the zone'. On my side, eyes shut, no Bradley breathing, no technique....I did not yell, I did not scream, I did not squeeze his hand, I did not cuss, I did not sweat! The pain was bad, too bad for me to talk, all I could do is grunt, and I only grunted when he stopped rubbing my back. He had the nerve to stop a few times. Don't sit here and tell me your hand hurts worse than my back! All I needed was silence....and a back rub. And for the most part, that's what I got.

Chris did not speak to me while I was in labor.

Mom did not speak to me while I was in labor.

The Nurse never came in, so she didn't speak to me.

It's exactly what I needed. I don't remember thinking. I was not scared. I wasn't thinking of the baby, or his prematurity or the prospect of giving birth, all I was thinking was "Keep rubbing my back or I will murder you very slowly and...crap, that contraction JUST ended and now it's starting up again?"

At 7pm, 32 hours into labor, I got tired and...cranky. I thought I was still probably 2 centimeters and unable to get an epidural. The ONLY reason I wanted one was due to my fatigue. I was so tired. I'd not slept since Thursday night, it was now Saturday night. How would I have the energy to push out a child if I was that exhausted? What if I had another 32 hours of this ahead of me? I hadn't eaten or had a thing to drink since Thursday, and I feared the pain would worsen. To that point, the pain was as bad as the worst menstrual cramps I'd ever had (thank you very much! To all you ninnies who said labor wasn't like a period, you're so wrong! LOL). But what if the pain got worse? I didn't want to suffer another 24+ hours like that, and since they were to keep me pregnant as long as possible, it could easily be another 24 hours. So I asked for the epidural.

With my scoliosis I was uncertain the epidural would even take, but, it did! It wasn't bad at all. I feared the side effects, epidural migraines, back pain, or it not working, or, working and then wearing off in time for labor. None of that happened. I got the epidural, it kicked in nicely. The nurse examined me to find I was 6.5 centimeters! I'd gone that long with no drugs! I was impressed with myself. LOL.

I then fell asleep, for what seemed like a minute. Then I hear this voice, of a nurse I'd never met, saying, "Wake up, it's time to push." I guess she checked me while I was still sleeping. I said "No, I'm tired! What time is it?" It's 9pm! Only 2 hours, I went from 6.5 to 10 centimeters. I felt NOTHING, nada, dead-numb. My Dr was delivering a baby next door so we were in no hurry. They took their time getting the bed ready and lifting my legs, since they were so numb I couldn't move them.

I was not scared. I thought I'd be terrified at this point but I wasn't. I wasn't thinking about forceps or pushing for three hours, or possible pain, or the premature baby, all I could think about was McDonalds as sad as that sounds. I just knew, in my heart, that William would be okay. I'm not sure how I knew, but I knew. There were several Drs in the room, and nurses, waiting for William. Mom was on the couch and Chris was up next to the Dr who arrived in the room around 9:05PM.

So, I had no one holding my hand, no one nearby. Chris was next to the Dr for some reason and I was totally numb but I'd seen enough tv shows to know 'how' to push, so I tried my best to push the right way. Apparently the right way was my way, the first push was a success. Having asthma means holding my breath and pushing with all my might is not something normally advisable. I began to almost black out three pushes in, I remember telling the Dr to 'give me a second' and she looked at me again like I was crazy. They gave me an oxygen mask and I took a 10 second break, then I pushed. She said "One more" and I said "The head is out?" She said "Oh yeah, it's been out."

Okay! LOL! I pushed and...she lied! LOL! She said "Oh, well, one more..." so I gave her one more...next thing I know she's holding this tiny baby in her arms....a tiny, bloodless, non-icky, full head of hair baby PEEING on her! Yeah, that's my first sight at my son....him peeing on the Dr. I said "He's so tiny." It was 9:11PM on Saturday, March 27, 2010.

Not that he was. He was 5 lb 6 oz and 19 inches long, HUGE for his age, but let's face it, most babies are 8+ lbs these days, he looked tiny to me. He was taken away of course and I just laid there...alone. I heard no cries. He did not cry. He did not breathe. He didn't breathe for four minutes. After four minutes, he 'grunted' a few little high pitched grunts, but never a cry. They wrapped him and handed him to me for an entire 10 seconds. Chris said "he has black eyes!" and I thought about Severus Snape instantly. His eyes were in fact, deep blue. He stared right into my eyes for a few seconds. It was a very powerful moment. It's like he knew me. I smiled for the camera and then he was gone.

For some reason it took four more hours for me to get my McDonalds. I felt great afterwards though. I was starving...and bored!

I pushed for maybe four minutes or less. I pushed less than 10 times, somewhere between 6 and 8, no one is sure. I was fine. Labor was fine. Delivery was fine. In fact, it was simple. Considering I had a God awful pregnancy and two and a half torturous years of trying to conceive AND a very, very medium rare premature baby, my labor and delivery were simple, easy and went off without a hitch. Sure it was 34 hours of labor, 32 of it un-medicated, but it was a piece of cake!

I had no external stitches, never needed a peri bottle or stool softeners, I could walk, I could sit, never needed a donut, all in all my recovery was pretty good, not perfect, but pretty good. Running around a NICU and entertaining out of town guests is not the best thing to do after giving birth, hence the weeks of heavy, heavy, heavy bleeding, but overall, I was fine. I didn't need the C-Section. I gave birth the old fashioned way, and I was great at it! Sure, if he'd been 10 lbs things would probably have been different but he wasn't. I'm thankful that after 7 hellish months, I was able to give birth with relative ease.

Another blog about preemies and NICU's is yet to come. This was about labor and delivery. And if anyone ever asks me, I'll tell them my truth "It's not the most painful thing in the world, it's like a horrible period, and you'll be just fine afterwards." All I have is my own experience to go by of course.

Me...seconds after giving birth.

Open faced Pot-Roast sandwiches with homemade gravy...simple!

2010-10-24T12:43:00.004-04:00

So it's only my second pot roast ever but it's already becoming a family tradition here at the Storm house. This is so simple! The prep time is maybe 15 minutes total.

Ingredients

2-3 lb chuck roast

1 medium yellow onion

carrots (I use the little ones in the bag that are already peeled, about 1/2 a cup worth)

5 garlic cloves, whole, skins on

2 cups of beef stock (Again, just eyeball it, use as much as you think you'll want for gravy, remembering the veggies and the meat will add to the liquid as well)

1 loaf of French bread

Salt, pepper, onion and garlic powder to taste

(Optional, 1/4 cup of plain tomato sauce)

Roux

Flour (I eyeball it, about....2 tbsp)

Butter (again, eyeball...around 1/4th a stick)

Preheat oven to 300

To the dutch oven or roasting pan, add the beef stock, garlic, carrots, and the onion (peel and quarter the onion) [Add the optional tomato sauce]

Season the roast with the salt, pepper, onion and garlic powders and seer in canola or olive oil on high heat for about 1 minute per side. Remove to the dutch oven, or roasting pan.

Put the lid on the pan and place in the oven for 1 hour, 40 minutes for about 2 lbs, or 2 hours for 3 lbs. How long you cook is up to you, depending on how well done you want the meat. Use a meat thermometer after 90 minutes.

Remove from the oven and let the meat sit for 20 minutes. Drain the juices and veggies through a calendar that's placed over a large bowl. Discard the veggies if you are me, or eat them if you are normal like everyone else.

For the roux, add the butter to a sauce pan on medium high heat, once it starts to melt, add in the flour and instantly begin to whisk until the mixture is thick and has no lumps. Lower the heat to medium and continue to whisk for about 1 minute. Slowly add the pan drippings into the roux and continue to whisk. Once all the juice is incorporated, raise the heat to medium-high and wait for the gravy to bubble. Once it bubbles, turn off the heat.

Cut the French Bread into 2 inch thick slices and drown the bread in the gravy. Then top with slices of the roast beef, then drown them in gravy. Then enjoy!

The weeks in review, thru Oct 12, 2010

2010-10-12T14:35:00.007-04:00

Well let's begin with some fun shall we? He is like a little vampire, with his two new 'fangs'...he chomps everything, chew toys, paci's, stuffed animals, ME! OUCH! Thankfully he's not bitten while nursing since Saturday so that's a HUGE relief!

Look at his face on this picture! He really loves to chomp and bite down. He still has the two bottom teeth but it looks like some uppers are cutting through shortly. The weather is slowly changing, so it's time to get out his 'fall' gear, thankfully The Children's Place had an awesome sale on hats and long sleeved shirts for the wee-one.

Okay, Bama lost royally last weekend but William and I are not fair weather fans, we still Roll with the Tide and watch the Bama games whenever they are televised. He enjoys playing and trying to crawl during the commercials. ;-)

Last week he went to the park to play for the first time. Yeah, he's too young to enjoy, but we put him in the swing and helped him down the slide, may as well while the weather is still warm. We then walked a few miles on the wooded trail and had a nice picnic on the river.

He can't really sit up unassisted yet but he did manage to for about 4-5 seconds the other day, long enough for me to capture a picture. We're not too concerned about his lack of sitting, he just discovered his feet after all.

He plays with his feet now all the time and learned how to use them to move things, like the parrot in his bouncy seat here...

He was taught and learned quickly, to not only remove toys from a basket, but to bang them together to make a cool sound. The therapist showed him once and he caught on and instantly repeated. Now he does it all the time!

The rings still interest him but he can remove them all from the base in about 2 seconds now....He also opens his hands and grabs at EVERYTHING now, my hair (which he won't let go of) Chris's or anyone's glasses really, the dogs!

He likes to play with his new toy laptop but he tends to push it away from himself, which just irritates him more...

It's safe to say his eyes are GREEN now....who knows if they'll remain so.

I LOVE THIS PICTURE! He's soooo happy! He discovered his feet! He loves this new pose, it's great because it strengthens his abdominal muscles, which will aid him in sitting soon. I call it the Cannon-Ball!

He tries soooo hard to crawl. All he does is cry and whine and do the occasional "Inch Worm" crawl. He did do "one" real crawl a few weeks back, but now he mostly inch-worms around....

Ahh...he can pick up this awesome toy from Debbie now. He loves it, always has, but now he can hold it! He likes to play a lot more now, often alone, which is sad, but nice at the same time. We still co-sleep, still breastfeed, no solids yet, and I had to adjust the straps on his car seat this week too.

He also met his 'honorary' great grand mother, Rosie, in from Kentucky last week. Donna and Debbie drove down with her to pay us a little visit...Mema would be pleased. ;-)

Pity Party, baby piranha and other ouches...

2010-10-10T09:50:00.008-04:00

So, since I'm falling apart, why not fall apart some more? I've had the fibro for about 7 years now and it sucks. It's better since pregnancy but everyday it gets worse and worse again, before long, it'll be back 100%. Well I've learned to live with it, even though it's a life sentence without parole.

This new arthritis however, I'm not dealing with as well . It started about 18 months ago in one finger. Just one....the finger is lumpy and often stiff. For some reason when I got pregnant, the finger stopped bothering me so much. Then about three months ago, wham! All ten fingers, wrists, ankles, back, neck and worst of all...knees. My back and neck are always bad, but the hands, ankles and knees are new to me.

Every morning they are stiff and inflamed. If I stay still for too long, 30 minutes or so, they get stiff, sore and swollen again. It doesn't hurt all day but it does hurt every day, especially at night. I guess I'm mad because it's new to me. Fibro is head to toe pain, muscle pain, but osteoarthritis is joint pain....and it sucks.

I prefer to sleep on my side in the fetal position. I can no longer do this because I can't bend my knees at night. I'm only 36. I used to be able to just get out of bed to use the bathroom with ease....not anymore. I can hardly get out of bed because my knees and ankles are so stiff and sore....and I'm only 36. I have the bladder of a gnat, so I go to the bathroom all the time....which is a hassle in itself...now, it hurts so bad to lower myself using my knees, and raise myself using my knees, I dread going to the bathroom and I'm only 36! 36, not 96!

What annoys me so much is, I plan to live to be 100, but arthritis gets worse, not better. I don't want to live to be 100 if this is how I have to live, knowing it's just going to get worse. If I have to have a raised toilet now at 36, what will life be like in 20 or 30 years? If I need help getting up off the couch now, can you imagine me at 46? Oh I can't wait for menopause! That'll be fun...let's add some osteoporosis into the mix.

I'm mad and throwing a pity party because the anti-inflammatory my Dr prescribed doesn't do a darn thing. Nada. I was hoping it would ease the pain....some. Nope. Maybe it's a placebo. :-)

I'm pissed because I'm a young woman with a newborn baby, who can hardly get into and out of bed, off the couch, onto the toilet, off the toilet and can barely make it up the three stairs I have outside of my house. Exercise is good for arthritis. I walked about 1-2 miles a day several times this week. Yesterday I walked about 3 miles, half of which was uphill, while pushing a stroller. My knees still hurt so bad, I couldn't sleep on my side last night.

I'm 36! 36 and one of the things I love to do, and one of the very few things I'm good at, is typing and writing. I can hardly type because my fingers are so sore and stiff and swollen...all the time. Mind you, it's dry and hot out! Just wait until a damp winter's day! I've not had this arthritis in winter yet. I guess if I'm bitching now I should appreciate how good I have it in the warm weather.

I no longer need a meteorologist anymore. It's one of the good things about arthritis. I KNOW when it's gonna rain....and there's no rain in the forecast this week....and I'm still in pain. But, it gets way worse when rain is coming.

I don't like the desert. In fact, I detest the desert. I don't want to live in a desert. I have NO desire to reside in the desert SW. I need green, and trees, and flowers and hills. In order to have green, one needs a decent amount of rain. But rain hurts. Ugh...I don't like the desert. I don't want to live in one of the Emirates. Greece is kind of nice though....some green, still pretty dry, not too chilly. I digress, I'm not moving to Greece. I do like me some Greek food though ;-)

So, no cold, no humidity, no rain....NO FUN! Okay, San Diego here I come! All we need now is a job that pays $300,000 a year and $100,000 down payment on a tiny hacienda and we're set! So since that's never gonna happen....I guess I can live in........Deming New Mexico....it's a nothing town on the Mexican border that can't have a very high cost of living.

Okay no, that's not happening either. It's Ohio or Alabama for us, both are green, both wet, both humid, one cold, one chilly....so I better get used to the pain. Besides, it's hot and dry this week and I still hurt, so I see no reason to live in a Pueblo in Deming New Mexico. Plus, I hate chili peppers and the smell makes me die...literally (allergic).

I guess Seattle would be a death sentence. Okay, so the next 65 years will be lived in pain....a ranch house for certain...a raised toilet with a handicapped bar next to it....and sleeping on my back I suppose....of course my back and neck have arthritis too...so....how about, no sleep! Which is what I get now.

Which brings me to ouch number 2, my baby piranha. He's adorable and on one hand, it's cool he has two razor sharp teeth on the bottom...on the other hand, I'd been perfectly happy if he'd waited another six months to cut them. Those teeth are sharper than a knife and he's super strong. He's always bit me. He'd gum bite me while nursing....and yes, that hurts. Now, add two uber sharp teeth into the mix.

At first we were fine. I mean, they are called "Milk Teeth" by many people. You're supposed to still breastfeed with these new teeth with no problem. Then about four days ago...CHOMP! He took a bite out of crime....and out of me! I reacted poorly. I screamed and yanked him off me so fast I startled him. I couldn't help it. I wasn't prepared. He'd never bitten me with his teeth before and I thought he never would. I calmed down, put him back on and CHOMP again! Um...no. I shoved a bottle in his mouth immediatly and watched on as he chomped and bit the bottle nipple too! Then I put my finger in his mouth, CHOMP. What can I say, he bites.

I took it in stride. That night in bed, as always, when he got fussy, I rolled onto my side, with my bad knees, and gave him the boob....and what did he do? If you guessed CHOMP then you guessed correct. OUCH! Screamed again! It was dark so I couldn't see and I just gave up and made him a bottle. The next night....same thing.

I was very upset. The whole point of co-sleeping is to nurse him at night with ease, and NO pain! I mean, didn't we suffer through tongue-tie, and thrush, and a nursing strike and now....teeth? What next? Well nothing, we've been through it all! Me getting up to make a bottle and then feed him and burp him and all that makes falling back to sleep for me nearly impossible. On top of it, he was having a growth spurt, so for the first time in over three months, he needed TWO bottles in the middle of the night....then he woke up very early in the morning for a third. After not nursing at night, I needed to pump first thing in the morning...I don't have time to make bottles and bottle feed when I am bursting and need to pump! LOL! Thank goodness Chris was off to help.

I don't like bottle feeding them and then pumping. I've done this for months, through the tongue-tie and nursing strike. It's time consuming and annoying. Breastfeeding is simple. No bottles to wash! No pumps to clean. No formula to buy and store and measure. Yes, he benefits from my pumped milk, which I still don't make enough of for him, not during a spurt. So I will continue, but now I'm doing more work.

At times it seems simpler to just give the pump back and bottle him. But that's not good for him and it's not good for me. If I made it through a NICU and thrush and nipple confusion and hickeys and tongue-tie and strikes....I can make it through teeth....but ouch.

I admit, I'm terrified to nurse him now. I don't like pain, in case you haven't noticed. The last three nights, I suffered through the night with big old hard leaking boobs, bottles in the bedroom and a child who won't sleep as well (he sleeps better with me as his paci at night and when he sleeps....I sleep...it's a win-win situation).

My consultant said to lay off the night nursing for 'now' until I retrain his latch. It's too hard laying down, in the dark, to teach him how to nurse with teeth....and she's right. The hard part is getting the courage to face the mouth of a piranha again.

I'm happy to report, since I began writing this blog hours ago, I did successfully nurse him, in the daylight, and he didn't bite me once! I was so fearful he would. He ate and then fell asleep on me, just like good old times. I was afraid he'd bite me in his sleep (he's recently began having nightmares) but he didn't. In fact, he just 'let go' and slept for about another 45 minutes.

One reason he bit me the other night was, he had bad gas. He was in pain and he bit down on me from the pain. I need to stop that now. I give him paci's at night, but he needs to feed from me at night so I can stop the nighttime bottles once and for all.

Okay, I'm done....for now....let's hope he keeps his teeth to himself!

The Week in review, Sept 3rd through Sept 20, 2010

2010-09-20T21:50:00.007-04:00

Wow...where to begin.

May be easier to just list the things that occurred.

Well, seen here in the video below, he grabbed my camera...and then licked it. :-)

He learned how to open his hands to grab/grasp for things. He grabs at everything he can, especially things that light up.

He gave me another hickey.

The nursing strike has ended!

He met his paternal grandparents, and his Aunt and cousin.

He met his third cousins, aka his godparents.

He finally got a pair of bitching sun glasses.

He stands, assisted, all the time.

He pulls for Chris's goat-tee all the time and yanks his glasses off.

He rolls and rolls and rolls....over and over and over, and cries when furniture gets in his way.

Everything he comes into contact with goes into his mouth.

He actively tries to grab for his bottle and hold it, even though he really can't do it well. When I take it away, he stares at it and cries, and reaches for it.

We can see and feel two bottom teeth on the verge of cutting through. We're giving him Hyland's Teething Tablets and he loves them. When he sees the tablet in my hand, he calms down and opens his mouth for me to insert!

He crawled! Well it was 'one' crawl, then he gave up and rolled the rest of the way.

He got a Bumbo but he's too young and weak for it. He can tolerate maybe 5 minutes a day in it, then he slouches over. But it's good practice and he'll enjoy it more later.

He saw his Dr a week ago, he weighed in at 12 lb 13 oz and is 26 inches long. He's in the 75% percentile in length, which is above average (For a 4 month old, not a 6 month old) but still in the 3rd percentile for weight for his real age, not adjusted. I'm sure he's 13 lb by now. He sees the Dr again in a week for vaccinations.

He uses the "big boy" stroller now, don't really put the car seat in the stroller anymore, it's too heavy for me to lift.

He kind of had a little cold, but not really. He never got a fever, but he had a cough and some sneezes. He felt kind of cruddy and napped on me for over 6 hours on Saturday, poor little sweet boy. He was a trooper though, he never really cried about it. LOL.

His hair is growing back like a weed! And it's BLOND, almost white in the sun! And, as of this week, his eyes are green!

He smiles all the time and laughs at least twice a day. He also reaches for the dogs, who now, kind of are interested in him.

He does his own tummy time, by rolling over and staying on his tummy for up to 10 minutes, lifting his head the entire time.

We noticed that when he's concentrating hard on something....he sticks his bottom lip out, and grunts. LOL...it's too funny. He did this when he discovered his feet over the weekend!

He snores....

He took his first shower! (Duh....not alone! LOL!)

Last but not least, he was baptized last weekend at St. Mary's Catholic Church in Franklin, Ohio. We had 26 carbon based life forms in our 1,000 sq ft house for the after-party. He did great during the ceremony, stared into the Priest's eyes and seemed mesmerized. He did great with the water dunk and the oil anointing, but cried when the oil seeped into his eyes.

Next week, my darling angel will be six months old....yikes!

Here the poor boy has a 'panty' on his head...

Bumbo!

What baby has quadriceps?

Farmer Willie!

Poor teething boy...

Haufbrauhaus with Grand-Pappy!

Skyline of Cincinnati, on the Ohio River

Hey there Grammy!

New blanket from his Great Aunt Hazel

Standing proud!

Feet? What are feet? Are they mine?

I'm too cool for words...

I love this book! To teethe on!

Wow....a pooch!

Cool satin Baptism Bib from Grandma!

My buddy Corinne

Me and Cal! He's still bigger than me!

Did NOT like the oil in his eye!

Dip!

Don and Cheryl, the godparents from PA

Grammy, Aunt Shanan and Cousin Raine

Homemade Red Velvet Cheesecake being cut, and dark chocolate cake with homemade butter cream.

Pat and Rich drove in from PA

The Storm Men

If you're a breastfeeding mom, then you're my hero!

2010-09-06T17:40:00.008-04:00

Cause let me tell you....on days like today, it sucks...or lack thereof. Ugh. This is NOT a blog bashing women who try to breastfeed and can't for various reasons. I understand that some things can't be helped and some babies need more supplements, like mine, or some women never get in a milk supply, or the baby just never latches properly.

This is a blog about those women who DO breastfeed, for a year or more, and my wondering how the hell they do this on days when they feel like horse shi*t! On days like how I feel today....

As most of you know I suffer from fibromyalgia, which is a bullsh*t disorder. Whether you believe in it or not, believe this, it's nearly ruined my life and the lives of many others, even people I know. Towards the end of my pregnancy my fibro symptoms got better....as in not as bad, not better as in healed, as there is no cure. I read that breastfeeding 'can' keep the fibro away too, but usually within a certain period of time after giving birth, the fibro comes back.

I almost forgot how wonderful life was without fibro. I can go places! Nearly all of the time and not worry about 'paying for it' later! I say nearly because I still have 'days'...but instead of them consisting of several in the same week, they are one or two every few weeks or even, once a month or so. Normally if I do something, anything, on let's say a Monday, then I'm spending Tuesday in bed. GOD FORBID I did a lot of something on a Monday, then it's Tues, Wed and maybe even Thur in bed.

When I say in bed, I mean it. For me, bed ='s couch but still. We're talking so weak I can't even fast forward through a commercial on my DVR remote....now that's pretty bad. I'm not talking about the pain, I'm talking about the fatigue here. Fatigue so bad you can't even think or speak.

Then there's the pain, for which there's nothing you can do. I guess you can dope up all the time but what will that solve? Pain will come back and then you'll destroy your liver. Nope, I just take the pain, (except for migraines, I dope the hell up for those!) but some pains are far worse than others.

The best way I can describe a bad fibro day to people who don't have them is....well, if you were in labor for let's say....two days....bad labor, like really, really bad labor....and then pushed your guts out for like....four hours...pushed until the veins in your eyeballs broke, only to end with an emergency c-section....and four hours later after the epidural ran out and you can feel all the pain....after two days of no food and no drink and all that hard work, and cuts and tears and stitches everywhere, and total physical and mental exhaustion....that effect you feel when it's all done....that's a bad fibro day. Nice huh? Now, get up, get dressed, put on make up, a dress and high heals, get into your car and drive 1 hour in grid lock and go to work for 9 hours, then drive another hour home in gridlock, cook dinner, do laundry and then go to bed. Um, no right? That's why I had to stop working full time.

Now, have days like that....every week....sometimes two or three days in a row....week after week...month after month....until you freakin' die! Welcome to my hell.

Now add a baby on top of it, and on top of that....BREASTFEED that baby! Now I can finally get to the reason why I'm writing this post. Though I'm currently NOT suffering the worst fibro day ever, I am suffering a fairly bad one. Keeping in mind I've only had a handful of them since last Sept so I'm out of practice on the suffering from fibro portion of my existence. I've actually had bad fibro days for the last three days in a row, mostly due to stress from this party I'm hosting in a few days, and lack of sleep of course.

I must say as a woman who wants nothing more than to exclusively breastfeed, and as a woman who can't, on days like today, I want to honor and worship....the bottle. Now I wish I had some frozen breast milk I could fall back on but I don't. What I have is a baby who finally after months of tongue-tie can only NOW properly use his tongue but now for some reason he's decided to have a 'nursing strike.' Granted, his strike is improved this week but he still sometimes resists the breast, and today was one of those days. Now add the fun of my IBS attacks that I've had for the last two days into the mix. I love that when I FINALLY got little dude calm enough after 30 minutes of screaming into my ear to finally nurse, I literally had to run to the bathroom for IBS, resulting in him being put into his pack and play....ugh....after all that....bottles sound like heaven.

I have a 'near' migraine, a very stiff and sore neck, and I'm exhausted....a baby screaming into my ear is NOT helping my head or neck. Him punching and kicking my breasts is not helping either. I'm so tired I just want to die, fighting a tiny being who has super-infant-strength is nearly impossible today. I did manage to breastfeed for "two" sessions today but I have to admit, I gave up on this last one. My head hurt too bad and he was screaming too loud. I had to give him a bottle...of icky formula. I just couldn't fight him. I guess if he were better and would just latch on, I'd not be writing this blog, but, he's not. LOL....I tried to side-lay and feed him on the couch as I was exhausted to the point of passing out, and he did, and we napped for nearly three hours, but now he's like "Um, no...gimme the bottle woman, or else I'll be forced to thrash you!" So I gave in.

HOW do women who exclusively breastfeed do it on days with migraines and/or fatigue or cramps, or....whatever other ailments they may have? Especially the ones like my friend Char who always just breastfed, we're talking, not even a bottle of breast milk...always the breast itself. And she had a baby who was pretty fussy at the titty too! HOW did she do it? She, like me, has a husband who works a lot, and hers is out of town a lot. She, like me, has no friends/family nearby. She, kind of like me, did it alone more often that not, (all of the childcare I mean). She did more than me even, because when Chris is here he's VERY hands on and awesome.

How did she and others like her do it? HOW does Becky and Regina and Elizabeth in CA and my other boobie-buddies do this, for years....and not be tempted to just give into temptation. I'm not talking about quitting, I'm talking about just getting a bottle of formula for those times when they are just too sick to try to nurse...How does anyone with fibro that's not 'improved' do this at all?

My son is napping in his crib...after having a bottle of icky formula. These are things I don't approve of. I'd prefer he breastfeed and nap on me or near me. However, I'm so sick and so weak and in so much over all pain (not breast pain, thank GOD) that I'm actually happy he's napping in his crib....gives me time to 'vent' here on the net and relax some...oh, and pump! Yeah, I get to pump! NO real reprieve from the titty, even on a bad fibro day. And yes, he'll get a bottle of my good ole' Mommy-Goodness the next time I feel like CRAP and he's being too fussy.

My nursing-bra is off to you fine and tough ladies who persevere and make it through times like these without just saying...'eh, forget this!'....I honestly don't know how you do it...

William actually nursing at his own free will on Sept 5, 2010...

The week in review...Aug 26th thru Sept 3rd, 2010

2010-09-03T14:33:00.005-04:00

I can fold my hands now!

We noticed a lot of changes in William this week. For one thing, his eyes are definitely changing color...it's just a question of what color they'll be. I think I see gold specs, meaning perhaps brown, but Chris swears green, while others still think gray or blue. Personally I don't see a lot of blue in them anymore. :-(

Last week he turned five months old! (Adjusted age of three months and two weeks old)

He also attended his first live music experience at The Greene, to Funky G playing jazz music. It was a little warm but sunny and he seemed to enjoy the music.

(Sorry the video is sideways, my bad...)

In other news, William has begun to really concentrate on playing with toys, especially his crawl-ball, which moves, talks and lights up when he touches it. He'll spend up to 20 minutes laying down playing with it, or sitting up with my or Chris's help.

We also noticed he's starting to spread his hands and fingers out instead of always clinching his fists...
He rolls over all the time, sometimes having a little difficulty rolling back to his back, but if I don't watch him, in a second, he'll roll right off that mat! Also Pippin sometimes forgets that he doesn't like William all that much. He still doesn't like to be touched by William, but he did sniff him a bit yesterday and posed for this picture at his own free will!
William also stands up, assisted, all the time now, almost holds his head up without any wobbles, laughs daily and smiles all the time. Another new thing is his ability to hold weight up on his arms, this was something he was really far behind on, but finally started to do this week!

He always has time to make goofy faces and pose for pictures with mom...
I'm also happy to report that his hair is FINALLY growing back in and it appears to be growing in very light blond! Wheew!
And lastly, it was exactly one year ago today, at this time (3:00PM EST), that I discovered that after two and a half years of trying and four years of planning, I was finally pregnant! A year later I find myself offering my son a teething ring, we think he may be cutting his first tooth ;-)

Miniature Italian Meatloaves

2010-09-01T14:12:00.004-04:00

Or overgrown meatballs, whichever you prefer ;-)

Ingredients

1 lb lean ground sirloin

1 lb lean ground pork (you have to add the pork people, if you don't I'll know, and I'll come after you)

1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese

1/4 cup Italian breadcrumbs

(All of these are to taste) Garlic powder, onion powder, Italian Seasoning, Thyme, Oregano, Salt and Pepper

1 slice of thick cut Pancetta

Marinara sauce

Preheat oven to 375. Dice pancetta and brown in olive oil. Remove and drain. Mix together the ground beef and pork and add the seasonings, bread crumb and cheese. Add the diced pancetta and form into hand sized loaves. Bake on a cooling sheet set over a baking sheet for about 30 minutes. (Use a meat thermometer to make sure the pork is done)

Top meatloaves with sauce and serve with pasta or risotto. Enjoy!

The week in review, Aug 13th thru Aug 23rd, 2010

2010-08-23T17:20:00.010-04:00

We had to take William back to Dayton Children's last week to see a GI specialist. He now weighs 11 lb, 10 oz and is 24 inches long. He's also now on Previcid but I think his gas is actually worse. He's only slept through the night two times in the last two weeks. One night he was up all night with horrible gas, poor fella. All I can do is hold him and put him to breast to ease his suffering some, he'll eventually fall asleep but I usually can't.

We had a diaper mishap at 3am. I changed his diaper and he decided to pee and it got in his EYE, his ear, his mouth, and all over what remains of his hair. I had to go clean out the sink and give him a 3am bath, poor little fella...then I watched The Secret Lives of Pippa Lee on the couch while he slowly fell back to sleep. The movie was really good but I'd preferred to not have a 'spa' day during the witching hour.

I baked another cake and did better on the decorating. I'm practicing for his baptism party and thanks to Heather I'm getting a little better. Mom sent William a special bib for his baptism and Chris and I went and got a bunch of Tiffany Blue and Chocolate colored items for the party. We got plastic wine glasses, plates, napkins, table clothes, forks and some decoration items. Still don't have a head count to order the food, but we decided to have a sandwich platter, meat platter, veggie platter and fried chicken platter, along with the baked goods...and I hope they turn out 'good'! LOL!

True, nearly all of his hair fell out but it's growing back in. It appears to be blond still, which is good. Some days his eyes are blue-gray, some days, blue-green.

He now rolls over all the time. I lay him in his crib or pack n' play on his back, a minute later, he's on his side or belly!

He can't sit up but he can be propped up, and is holding his head better.

He also started to put weight on his shoulders while doing tummy time finally!

He now really likes to reach for his toys and can grab them too.

He smiles all the time and has laughed a little in the last week. He loves music! He always smiles and 'talks' when he hears music. This week I took him to The Greene at night for the first time and he loved to see all the pretty lights and listen to the live music. He was great at dinner and actually let me eat!

It was a nice Ladies Night Out...with my wee-one, and we were all happy he was so good, he and I just held hands while I ate and chatted with the other mama's.

In other news, he also stands up all the time, assisted, and even takes steps! (Assisted)

We theorize since his upper body strength is weak that he'll skip crawling perhaps and just go right into walking, his legs are so strong.

We took some 'artsy fartsy' pix this week, and pix to profile the new 'chubs' he's slowly acquiring.

Also took some pix with the pup's, this is NEVER easy to do!

William and I spent a nice morning at the La Leche picnic at a lovely park with a lake! I learned new sling positions and took some great pictures of him out in the sun. Chris and I also went and got some fleece for a new winter sling! JoAnn's had a GREAT sale! 2.5 yards for $10!

There's always time to take and make really goofy pictures with no real purpose other than to laugh...

He's having a bit of a nursing strike this week, but nothing we can't manage. I'm not sure why he's having a strike, could be overactive let down, or my low supply....after he fusses for a while he'll latch back on.

He continues to sleep with his eyes open a lot of the time, and I noticed, he only smiles to me and Chris, not to strangers....I guess that means he likes us huh? ;-)

Cake design 101, take THREE

2010-08-18T20:34:00.003-04:00

Thanks to Heather for the butter-cream....which has no butter, but LARD! LOL, hence the good taste. The "W" was waaaaaay not centered at all, but it's still a decent job, not bad for a third attempt.

Easiest teriyaki ever!

2010-08-18T19:28:00.003-04:00

Not sure how authentic it is but it's pretty tasty! Simple too! (Even simpler, call your favorite take-out place for some steamed rice to go with, I can't for the life of me steam rice!)

Ingredients

Protein (I used chicken in this one, or you can go all out veggie)

Veggies (I use zucchini, yellow squash and onion, you can also use carrot and broccoli)

Teriyaki sauce (about 2 tbs)

2 tbs butter

4 tbs soybean oil (Use any oil, just don't use olive)

1 tbs sesame oil

Sesame seeds

Pepper to taste

Dice the protein into bite sized chunks and get the pan very hot, when you're ready to add the chicken, add some oil. Add the chicken and pepper. Brown on both sides. When it's nearly done, add 1 tbs butter and add some sesame seeds, sesame oil and about 1 tbs of Teriyaki sauce (A little goes a long way)

Remove from the pan and set aside. Put the pan back on the burner and add more oil. Slice the veggies into bite sized pieces and add to the pan. Add pepper and sautee until nearly done. At the end, add the butter, sesame seeds, sesame oil and a little Teriyaki sauce. Add to the chicken and mix, serve over rice!

What a year, a year I'll never forget...

2010-08-14T14:36:00.009-04:00

A big anniversary is approaching....our son has been with 'me' for exactly one year ago this week. Sure people throw around the term "we're pregnant" but unless some scientific experiment where men can get pregnant and deliver a child through their vagina has become reality, only women can still be pregnant...therefore William has been with 'me' for the last 365 days...he's been with us for the last five months. ;-)

He's been with us in a sense for a year now, a horrible and fantastic year, all at the same time. A blog about our infertility is still to come, but I wanted to commemorate the year of our son's existence that began this week, in 2009. Some people would say it's sad that the date of their child's conception is fresh in their memory....after two and a half years of trying, I remember exactly how he came to be in this world. The ironic thing is, he wasn't supposed to be, since we weren't 'trying' last August....go figure.

The last picture of me taken before I got pregnant...

I told Chris back in July of 2009 that we were taking August off. God knows we needed a break from the stress of trying to conceive the old fashioned way. Conception the 'new high tech' way was already decided upon, we were just in need of the funds to do so. In the meantime since I was growing older instead of younger, we still tried to have a baby, despite being told we had a less than 1% chance of ever conceiving a baby, the conventional way.

We had a lot of plans in August, out of town plans. I decided to not track my cycle in August. I decided not to buy yet another ovulation test in August. I knew, on paper, according to the numbers, that ovulation 'should' occur at a time that would not be convenient for us, so we decided to just ignore August and try again in September.

William, you can thank Chris for your existence. Of course all children can than their parents, but this child in particular can thank Chris. Had it been any other egg or any other sperm, William would not be here...some other kid would be here. Even though I was 'not' ovulating, and we weren't trying, and I told Chris that there was NO way we'd conceive in August, since that ship had sailed...well, I mean, you can figure out the rest.

Until I researched pregnancy, I thought that you had sex, and within a few hours a sperm met and egg and boom, you were pregnant. Turns out that is not true. A sperm can hang out for a while as it turns out. Also, the sperm should be waiting on the egg, just like men should wait on women ;-) As it turns out, yes, you should try to conceive 'before' you ovulate. Not too much before or else the sperm pretty much all die out and the egg gets stood up. Too late and the egg, who's really impatient, decides to just croak before the sperm shows up.

What's really freaky is my egg should have been dead, buried, and pushing up daisies by the time the "William" sperm came...ha ha. I already had the tomb stone ordered by the time the sperm came along. Little did I know that for the first time in a few years, my egg decided to be fashionably late. No, not even, she decided to be really, really late! It's like she knew that she'd get stood up again if she arrived on time.

You know when you have a friend or family member whose always late, and you tell them the party starts at 7 when in reality it starts at 9? Yeah, I think my egg caught on that she'd always be waiting around to die and she wasn't interested in a suicide mission that month. She smartened up and decided that for once, those tardy sperms should wait on her instead of the other way around. Sure, the party was supposed to start at 7, but this time, everyone showed up at 9.

I was actually pregnant in these pictures and didn't even know it! Mom's 60th birthday, August 19, 2009

I guess it's sad that I have these pictures. I was pregnant in these pictures and didn't even know it. My egg was probably fertilized a day before these pictures were taken. At the time of these pictures, aka my mother's birthday, my little William was a tiny cell, dividing and dividing and dividing. At this point, I had no clue, none what so ever. The first few months we tried to conceive, I sat around thinking I was pregnant. I thought about that cell dividing and dividing and dividing, when in realty there was no cell, just a dead egg waiting to be expelled.

In August 2009, I missed the whole 'dividing' thing all together. Well technically I was there, but I was so unaware. Unaware that little William was alive and with us...I was a host to a tiny little being. I had no idea. I felt no different. I felt as crappy as ever. LOL. A couple of days after Mom's birthday, when I was about five days post-conception (or two weeks pregnant depending on how you look at it) I was very tired. I have chronic fatigue so I'm always tired. I thought my extreme fatigue was just that, chronic. Usually when I have 'bad fibro' days, I just rest for a day, maybe two, and I'm back to my usual tired self. Not that week. That whole week I was exhausted. I napped all day, every day, but I still had no clue.

On Thursday my period was due, and for the most part I was on time, except for the August previous but that's for a different blog. Thursday came and went but I paid little attention. I thought Friday would be the day instead. I didn't even tell my friends like I used to if I was a day late. Friday came and went, but I knew I wasn't pregnant, so I feared my ovarian cysts were back. Chris told me to take a pregnancy test and I said, "NO, I'm only two days late." We've spent enough money on tests, I wasn't pregnant and I wasn't getting my hopes up...AGAIN.

On Wednesday we went to Buffalo Wild Wings. I promised Chris that if I was a week late, I'd take a test. The next day was test day. I was still tired but that was it really. That night we dined on wings and I had a Mich Ultra. I joked that it may be the last beer I have for a few months. But it was a joke, since in no way was I pregnant. Let me reiterate, not only had that ship sailed that month, but we were infertile! It was impossible for us to conceive naturally. Even if my ship was in port and his sea-men were boarding...I'd never get pregnant. So I enjoyed my beer.

On Thursday we went to Sam's Club and then did some grocery shopping. He picked up a Kroger brand pregnancy test. I kind of changed my mind about testing but it was only $8 for a two-pack, so what the heck. We got home around 3pm and I went to the bathroom to pee on the stick, as I had many times before. While I was still peeing, I removed the stick to put it on the counter like I always do for the 3 minute wait, only to find not one but TWO pink lines....two pink lines. TWO PINK LINES! I screamed from the toilet, while still peeing, "I'm pregnant!"

Chris was in the kitchen putting the groceries away. He screamed "What?" I wiped and ran out of the bathroom in shock and said again "I'm pregnant! Is that two lines? There's two lines right? I mean, two means pregnant right?"

Pregnancy test, September 3, 2009

"Yeah, yeah...uh, yeah, there's clearly two lines! We did it!" Chris exclaimed, and then we embraced. No one was more shocked than me. Our friends and family were shocked, but trust me, it was the biggest surprise of my life! A planned surprise!

This ultrasound was taken exactly one week later, the tiny white line in the kidney-bean is the makings of the umbilical cord.

Like I stated in a previous blog, it was the happiest moment of my life. Sheer bliss. Utter excitement. Chris celebrated by going to the gym of course...looking back I could KILL him for leaving me and not celebrating the greatest day of our lives together. As a matter of a fact, when he gets home from work tonight, I'm going to yell at him for abandoning 'us' that day to get his work-out on, while I sat home, alone, in the company of dogs, on the happiest day of my life. Man is he in for it tonight!

We all know the rest, sadly all that happiness didn't last for too long, but in the end, look what we got! We got William. Looking back, I'm happy I didn't get pregnant in 2007 like we planned. If I did, it wouldn't be William, it'd be some other baby, not him. A tad philosophical, true, but it's how I feel. And I have Chris to thank for it...even though I plan to tear him a new one for going to the gym.

Our son, age twenty weeks, his tiny hand in mine.

His footprints are so tiny! March 27, 2010

So you can see how small they really are...

Ten minutes after his birth, 9:20PM, March 27, 2010

In the NICU, March 29th, 2010

Adorable cutie on 06/25/10

The week in review...Aug 6 thru Aug 13th, 2010

2010-08-13T18:56:00.006-04:00

Big week of firsts! Yeah, he laughed for the first time last week, but this week I caught his laughter on video!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bghzJiQJlbo

For the first time in over a month, he's sleeping through the night....again! He goes down on his own between 9-10pm and sleeps straight until 5-6am...around that time he gets cranky because of gas, so I breastfeed on my side and we stay in bed until 7 or 8am.

He can almost hold up his head, he's really behind on this. He's 3 months old, adjusted, and should be holding it up...but he's doing so much better.

Today he put weight on his arms for the first time! Of course I had to help, I propped him like that, but he maintained that position for a little while.

On Friday, he just felt like posing for many 'posed' pictures...

We love his eyes! Hope they stay this lovely shade of blue and green!

He now smiles all the time and laughs almost daily! Not sure what's so funny though....he seems to think my singing is funny.....Hmmmf!

He really grabs onto his 'links' now and loves to play with them. This week he started to nap...thank God....and he does so in the pack-n-play or the swing, two places he never dared to rest before.

His baptism outfit arrived! And as I knew it would be, it's way too large, but it's the smallest size they had. He has a month to grow into it some.

He appears to have not grown much in length to me, but is plumping some now. He will see a GI Specialist at Dayton Children's next week and he'll be weighed then. We visited the place he called home for the first month of his life this week for feeding therapy. All is well, and he got to ride in a wagon!

He chit-chats all the time these days. He can sit and play with links or suck on his fingers for longer chunks of time now.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sC9T0yroSD0

My LLL meeting went well, except the AC wasn't working and it was 102929 degrees inside. William and I attended a baptism party for Corinne at Heather's house, William got to be around other babies close to his age. We went to her house again for a play date later in the week.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lm5eVwMMb1c

The 'four month old' family photo

On Saturday he and I spent a day together, just us, hanging out. We went to a few shops and then the mall for a few hours. I bought him this hat at Old Navy, it has ears!

He sometimes holds up his own bottle!

He can now roll from his back to his belly! He loves to sleep in this position now

Very bad for you bacon & beer mac n' cheese topped w/ fried green tomatoes

2010-08-13T17:43:00.006-04:00

Yeah you heard me right. LOL...I kind of make this up as I go along, so all the measurements are not exact...I pretty much eyeball everything.

Ingredients

1 box of whole grain pasta (Make it whole grain, let's do something healthy here) I use penne

1 bag of finely shredded sharp cheddar cheese

1 can of Guinness

2 tbs butter

2 tbs flour

1 bag of bacon pieces (use the real stuff, OR fry your own and use the bacon fat in lieu of butter for the roux)

Whole milk (or 2%, skim doesn't really make a good white sauce)

Corn meal

2 eggs

3 medium sized green tomatoes

Corn meal

Canola oil

Pre-heat the oven to 350. Slice the tomatoes THICK. Lightly salt and pepper each slice and dredge in the egg and then into the corn meal. Fry them until the corn meal is golden brown and set aside to drain.

Boil the water for the pasta. Meanwhile to make the roux, add the butter to a pan set over medium heat. After it melts add the flour, and whisk together. Continue to cook until there are no lumps and the roux is a golden color. Slowly add the beer, about 1/4 cup or so. Dark beer works best. Then add about 2-3 cups of milk. Continue to whisk and turn up the heat to high. Once it boils, lower the heat to a simmer and add the cheese, continuing to whisk the entire time.

Drain the pasta and add the pasta noodles to the pot of cheese sauce. Add the bacon pieces and pepper (there's enough salt in the cheese and the bacon). Add mixture to a baking sheet and top with some more shredded cheese, then top that with plain bread crumbs.

Top that with the tomatoes and bake at 350 until it's bubbly, about 10-15 minutes. ENJOY!

Cake design 101, take TWO

2010-08-06T19:22:00.002-04:00

Take two turned out SO MUCH worse than attempt one. Firstly I got a better tip for piping, that was good, but my cheap butt used a zip lock as a piping bag...and it burst at the end and frosting shot out all over the cake....UGH! Ruined. Also I made ganache for the filling, which tastes great...but clearly I added waaaay too much, it seeped out the sides and made a total mess! I need much more practice I think. ;-)

The better tip I purchased. The tip worked great! It was thicker, easier to use.

I bought 'frosting gel' coloring and made this Tiffany blue, that aspect of today was a success.

Can't just look good, MUST taste good and ganache tastes good! Double-boiler, chocolate chips, heavy cream...stir, done! Yum...made a yummy filling!

But...I CLEARLY added waaay too much ganache.

Looks like a pumpernickel sandwich. LOL

Eh...not my best work, hell it's some of my worst but the colors are good and the "W" isn't as bad...

I did better on borders, needs work though.

What's this? A rosette? Well whatever it is, it turned out good.

Tasted great though!

The 'funny' week in review! 07/31/10 thru 08/06/10

2010-08-06T14:22:00.006-04:00

I'm not sure why me smacking his feet into my face at the checkout line at Kroger was so hilarious to little one but he cracked up! First he smiled, then chuckled, then giggled and then flat out cracked up! Chris was scanning groceries and came over to see what was happening, since he could hear his laughter over all the people and beeping cash registers. Sorry, no video...but I hope to capture his laughs soon enough.

William finally rolled over again! He'd not done it since he rolled over the first time. Now rolling over is no big deal to him anymore.

William had his first little illness, a stuffed nose that made nursing a real challenge. He never had a fever, but had a little cough and some sneezes. He had two horrible nights with no sleep, but seems to be on the mend now. Still some congestion but nothing too serious...me on the other hand, that's a different story.

William slept, alone, in his own crib, all night this week. It's the first time he ever slept alone in his entire life. According to Chris, he was fine, woke up with his 3am gas-attacks that he always has, and then went back to sleep.

Have no fear, little one is back in his Snuggle-nest with me...where he belongs. ;-) Last night he slept through the night...entirely! First time in months he's done that. He wanted out of his Snuggle-nest around 6am, so I breastfed him on my side and he fell back to sleep. Normally this would be Heaven but 'we' had to get up at the butt-crack to dawn for his physical therapy at Dayton Children's, and I KNOW he'd slept longer! So I got up at 6:30, while he slept in...LOL...I pumped and got ready and got his diaper bag ready and then Chris woke him, changed him and clothed him for me to feed him so we could leave by 7:30. To think, we could have slept until 9 probably! Ugh!

I found a little onesie I bought him at Babies R Us that we forgot about. It was meant to his 'coming home' outfit. Size Newborn, and he still fits in it...just barely. So he wore it this once...finally.

All of William's hair is falling out! Poor little bald guy! He had SO much hair at birth! Remember this pic? (He was 12 days old here)

Look at my poor little guy now...all bald like Jean Luc Picard! LOL...

Pippin's new hiding place!

2010-08-04T16:20:00.002-04:00

Pippin's newest hiding place...

My thoughts on pregnancy...

2010-08-02T15:11:00.016-04:00

09/03/2009

To quote Penn and Teller…pregnancy is bullsh*t! I mean, if everyone’s pregnancy was like mine, the human species would die out. I’m not a huge wimp either, I had a horrible pregnancy. Horrible...HORRIBLE!

Scientificaly speaking, if our only purpose as carbon bassed life forms is to reproduce, shouldn’t pregnancy be, oh I don’t know…good? Nice? Fun?

Sure, some people have wonderful pregnancies….if I ever meet one of those people I’ll let you know. There are many who’s are worse than mine….just no one I know. LOL…I mean this pregnancy was bullcrap from the get-go.

It all started over four years ago…when we decided to have a baby. We decided to wait 2 yrs to start trying, and then we….couldn’t get pregnant. The misery of infertility is for another blog, but let’s just say unless you personally experience it, you don’t understand it. You just don’t.

On Sep 3, 2009, after years of trying and several false alarms…to my disbelief, I discovered that I was pregnant. It was the most shocking and most wonderful moment of my life. I couldn’t believe it. I asked Chris if I were crazy, or were there two lines on the pee stick. He verified and I cried. We hugged. He said, “We did it!”

We were both in shock. I vowed to tell no one, no one until I saw the Dr. So I called my Dr and…..the phone to their office wasn’t working. So then I said, “Let’s tell our families, ONLY, no one else….” So we did…then I said, “I have to tell one friend at least…” Well one friend turned into all of them. I called all my friends and told them. They were MORE shocked than I was!

The main reasons I was shocked was….we were infertile. AND, I clearly ovulated late. We were NOT trying that month. We were out of town during my ‘fertile days’ and I said, “Let’s just skip August, we need a break anyway….” And walla! I got pregnant in August. In fact, I believe the date of conception to be my mother’s birthday (conception actually occurs one to two, sometimes more, days after, well, you know…)

It was a blissful week. I was on cloud nine. I felt like a real woman. We tried and tried and tried and finally, we were rewarded. My life couldn't have been better at that moment in time.

The next day I went to Wal-Mart, and I felt like a new person. I was carrying a baby. Our baby. A baby we worked so hard for. “It” was in there, just a cell….dividing and dividing. It didn’t have a heartbeat yet, but it was alive, and it was growing. It was a person, our person, a person we made together. It was, for lack of a better word, a miracle.

I’m cursed with stomach problems and have been for many years. Simply put…I don’t eat. I go days without eating. The week I discovered I was pregnant ( I was about 3 weeks pregnant) I suddenly had an appetite! I wanted, and ate, three meals a day! I’ve not done that since Junior High! I ate healthy too! Omlettes and kale (rich in folic acid) and drank lots of water.

I didn’t even want diet soda, which I vowed I’d not drink any of while pregnant. I took my prenatals, which I’d been on for 4 yrs anyway, and my folic acid and ate my kale and consumed my meals.

I napped, a lot. As someone with fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue I thought it impossible to be more tired than I already was. WRONG. I was exhausted. I slept all the time. In fact, that’s what clued me in that I may be pregnant…that and Brady who hates me suddenly loved me and sat on my lap all of the sudden. When he started cuddling up to me, I thought, perhaps I’m pregnant. So when I was 7 days late, I tested. J

I napped and ate and drank and nurtered my baby. I had the best intentions. Finally I got a hold of my Dr and had an appt to see her one week from the day I tested. She’d been through so much with me up to that point. I followed her when she left her practice. She’d been there with me through infertility and ovarian cysts that caused hemmorages, and now, the long awaited pregnancy.

I got all dressed up to see her that warm September day. I wore my navy skirt with white polka-dots and white shirt, with red pumps. I wore make-up, a rarity. She did an ultrasound and showed me….a little dot that was our long awaited child. She said it was set up high in the uterus, there was only one, and it looked great! She said I appeared to be five weeks, but I knew I wasn’t. She pointed out what was the beginnings of the cord. Afterwards, Chris and I went out for lobster bisque, as I was craving it! Everything was wonderful and my life at that point couldn’t be better….I had a wonderful 10 days…

A week after I saw my Dr, I went to the bathroom and found blood. Now I knew some bleeding was common around week five. However, this wasn’t ‘some’ blood. It was blood, bright red, and plenty of it. I yelled from the bathroom, “I’m bleeding…”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“It means I’m having a miscarriage.”

There was too much blood for it to be anything else. The day prior, I had terrible back pains. Horrible back pains so bad I couldn’t walk. My menstrual cramps are in my back and that’s what they were. I knew that’s what they were, but I tried to deny it. I thought, well back pain is common in pregnancy….I knew deep down that back cramps were not common. That day, the cramping got worse, and then, the blood.

I remember telling him, “If I wasn’t pregnant, I’d be on painkillers for these cramps.”

Miscarriage. I called my Dr, of course it was after hours. A few minutes later, the Dr on call called me back. He said, “This is your first pregnancy. Yeah, you’re scared, I understand. Well, stay off your feet, wear a pad, and come see us at 9am tomorrow. If your pain worsens, go to the ER tonight.”

Lovely. I detached myself from the pregnancy at that point, because, it was over. The good news was, I could get pregant, which meant, I could get pregnant again. I mean, I was 35, so time was short, but we’d just try again. It’s over and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

The next morning we went to the Dr. My Dr was there. She seemed solemn. She did an ultrasound to search for the heartbeat. I was six weeks at that point, and the heartbeat would be visible.

I laid on the table, the tech did the ultrasound….no heartbeat. A perfectlty round ‘sack’ was visible. It was much larger than the week prior. The sack, yolk sack, was there, but no heartbeat. I told the tech that I think they had my due date wrong. I think I ovulated late that month. She said, “Okay. Come back in seven days and we’ll search for the heartbeat then.”

The reason for the blood? Unknown. The bleeding remained the same for the next week. Honestly…I don’t remember hardly anything from that week. We went back to see the Dr a week later. The tech started the ultrasound and the first thing we heard….was a hearteat. It was alive. It was alive! Then, we saw the flutter on the screen. The heart was beating. It was still with me.

Next to it was a huge pool of black….blood. She said my utuerus was full of blood. I cried. Not at the blood, but at the heartbeat. Hearing it and seeing it. 150 beats per minute. A strong and healthy heartbeat. The heartbeat of my future son, well, actually…of my son.

We believe that life begins at conception. We’d almost lost him, but he was still hanging on. My theory that I ovulated late was correct. Sometime in that seven days, his heart began to visibly beat…to audibly beat. My due date was adjusted from May 7, 2010 to May 13, 2010. I was six weeks pregnant and I felt great, aside from fatigue. We left the Dr’s office, confident that everything would be okay, despite the bleeding, which lasted for three more weeks.

A day or two later, I had a sandwich and immeditly after, I felt like crap. I was nausiated. Wonderful. Now I knew I’d NOT have morning sickness. Mom had it, and I’d heard stories of her terrible morning sickness my whole life. Marlene had it, Charlene had it, but I wasn’t going to have it. I generally don’t puke. I can count on two hands how many times I’ve yacked in my life. I didn’t yack from age 13-25, not once. I hate puking more than anyone on Earth. I mean, I seriously hate it. I know no one likes it, but I loath it. I fear it. I don’t enjoy…at all.

But starting week six, I was sick to my stomach…and hungry…at the same time. I was so hungry I’d wake up in the middle of the night from the hunger pains. I’d be eating at 3am. An hour later, I was starving again. And what’s with having to pee every ten minutes so early on? I laid on the couch, sick to my stomach, but still hungry. I thought, ‘okay’…if I just have nausea and no vomitting, then I’m okay, everything will be okay.

Week seven. My clothes were getting tight. I joked to Chris that I was starting to show! No doubt it was all the food I was eating. Then it dawned on me, I’d not had a bowel movement in….21 days! I was so backed up. We had a light breakfast and I knew I could not fit one more morsel into my body. I called my Dr and the Dr on call said to take a stool softener. I was a moron so I did as I was told. Of course that didn’t do a thing. Then he said to take an enema. Oh goody. That too, did nothing.

Then, as I sat on the couch, that feeling hit me…that…Ugh…I’m gonna yack….feeling. I HATE THAT FEELING! I told Chris, “Oh no! Oh no!” He yelled “What? WHAT?!” I said, “I’m gonna puke!” He said, “Oh…well go puke then.” LOL, he was relieved it wasn’t something worse. But to me, almost nothing is worse than vomitting. Let me be clear, I HATE IT! So I go to the toilet and he stands there….and we wait and wait and wait….because it’s coming, I assure you. The buildup for me takes forever, it’s torture! And then KABOOM! Gross! Nasty! Tears, crying, choking, all that good stuff!

I sat on the couch and had a popcicle…then KABOOM, yaked up the popcicle. Not good. I was so backed up, I couldn’t ingest another thing…so we made our first trip to the ER…for severe constipation. Nice huh? This is when I got ‘radiated’ baby, because they had to X-ray me to look for a blockage. The moron ER Dr found what looked like a potential blockage and informed the nurse to give me….the mother of all enemas. Yes! At that point I was so happy to have the demons expelled, I didn’t care that a gallon of water, blended with soap, yes, soap…was being rammed up there…so they rammed it up there and……..nothing happened. I was seriously backed up.

They brought in a portable toilet, which was gross and like, ‘a’ square of toilet paper. Are you joking? I made Chris steal a whole roll from the men’s room. So 30 minutes later all the water came out…and um…nothing else. So they rammed more water up there and then talk of a hose and possible finger ensued, which made me pray that more than just water came out in round two. I actually felt something…move…and wallah! The demons were expelled.

We got home around midnight and Chris had to get up at 6am to go to work the next day, needless to say he wasn’t in the greatest of moods. I never wanted that to happen again, so I started to take stool softeners religously. Yet, days would go by with ‘nada’…so my Dr recommended Miralax, like four times a day, that’s about $100 worth of miralax a week!

Around week 8, I took my expensive miralax, sat on the couch and………out of no where…….YACK! Out of no where, yack! Just…yack! Ran to the bathroom! Cried, tears…choked…texted Chris, not sure why…like he could do anything from work. Little did I know that my worst fear…morning sickness….was becoming a reality. Even littler did I know that in fact, I never had morning sickness…no, why would I, someone who hates to be sick more than anyone on the planet, get run of the mill morning sickness? No, the Yack-Gods just HAD to curse me with the mother of all morning sickness…hyperemesis…(the difference? Morning sickness…sucks! Hyperemesis is evil…we’re talking like dropping 20 lbs in a month evil!)

Okay the whole hyperemsis is a blog for another day, as I’ll be blogging for an eternity if I include it all here so I’ll just summerize…Let’s just say I did not eat, I did not drink, I did not SWALLOW spit from weeks 10 thru weeks 22. I mean, I did all that but it’d only stay down between ten seconds and ten minutes…tops. The weird thing was, NO nausea at all…just vomitting. NO warning, vomitting. I’m not sure which I’d prefer actually. I like advanced warnings on most things, as I like to prepare…but advanced warning for something unpleasent? Maybe a sneak attack is better in those situations?

Okay so my pukes were stealthed, they were sudden, and they were violent. Shock and Awe had nothing on my innards. I almost peed myself from yacking so much, so hard. Bile is a curse and it's gross and it was...everywhere.

I never made it to the toilet…no, no…my 1100 sq foot house was too large for me to run that far with literally NO notice of any kind. Nope, the kitchen sink became the puke-reservoir. So, the sink always had to be clean and free of any debris, so I could muck it all up many times a day. Of course our dishwasher just HAD to break when all of this was happening, so where to put dirty dishes? On the stove top of course! Of course I wasn’t eating or drinking so it was only Chris’s dirty dishes on the stove. ;-)

Almost any scent would make me puke. A fart...a belch...the smell of eggs...the smell of...air...to even look at food would make me barf. I'd vomit, on average, 8-10 times per day, I called them puking-sessions. Each 'session' I'd actually yack 10-20 times, that's 10-20 pukes, per puking-session...that means I puked, on average, 100 times per day...for three months. Fun!

With all the…expulsion…came further exhaustion brought on by chronic dehydration and malnutrition, oh and of course, horrific constipation. Lovely! Coulnd’t eat, couldn’t drink, couldn’t swallow spit, pretty obvious I couldn’t take a pre-natal, a stool softenor or miralax. I was the walking dead…well I could hardly walk. Just to move from the couch to the sink to expell took every ounce of strength I had. The baby was the last thing I was thinking of at that moment, not dying and not passing out were my top priorities.

It got so bad my Dr gave me a choice…hospitalization, probably with a feeding tube…or a Picc line. What the hell was a picc line?

At that point I was so sick, I just didn't care, I’d do anything she suggested. My Dr also suffered from hyperemesis so she knew exactly what I was going through. The picc line would be surgically inserted into my upper arm and then a thin catheter would go into my veins, providing IV fluids for me to do ‘at home’ as well as anti-nausea medication called Reglan, administered through a pump. I would receive 12 hrs a day of IV and the Reglan pump would be continuous.

I’d been taking Reglan in pill form since week 7, but could no longer hold it down. I didn’t know at the time I was already feeling the effects of the Reglan, side effects which would make my pregnancy…even worse. (Topic for yet another blog, but depression and anxiety are side effects of Reglan, and boy, those are worse than any kind of morning sickness)

The procedure, hurt. They did numb my arm to insert the tube but the cut was so deep, it hurt. Then I needed another x-ray to ensure the catheter was not in my heart. This kid was going to be The Hulk with all these darned x-rays!

I was very sore for a few days after. Showering was nearly impossible with it. Not to mention I was so weak, I could only shower on Chris's day's off, which um..wasn't that often. He had to help me or I'd faint. I almost did faint one day. He had to catch me and carry me to the bed until I came around.

I had to carry the Reglan pump around my shoulder in a purse-type-thing. I was weaker than I’ve ever been in my life. I didn’t even have the energy to do the IV bags everyday, but Chris was at work and I was all alone here, so I had to do it…or die I guess. Changing my Reglan in my pump was another hassle that occurred every 24 hours. I also had to weigh myself and pee on a stick to check my Keytones and then call a nurse daily with my findings each morning. I was so weak, words don’t describe. It was a combo of the depression and the malnourishment. I literally couldn’t move. Just to roll over in bed took five minutes and every ounce of energy I had.

I stopped using the computer, stopped emailing, stopped talking on the phone, in fact, I stopped talking at all, because talking made me sick. To open my mouth for any reason, made me throw up. I had to stop brushing my teeth, as doing so made me very sick. I just swigged some mouthwash instead. Clearly the Reglan wasn’t working but I didn’t know that it was giving me depression and unbearable anxiety either. I was too sick to even notice if you can wrap your brain around that. I guess Chris could see me deteriorating but I hardly complained about it. I was too sick to do so, and like I said, to open my mouth made me vomit.

Again, a topic for another blog, but let’s just say the hyperemesis, plus medicine induced depression and anxiety were horrible! It was the single worst three months of my life. Since I was unable to move, think, talk…sleep…eat…drink…I couldn’t enjoy my pregnancy. I couldn’t enjoy anything. In fact, everything I did enjoy, was gone. I got pleasure from nothing, not even my dogs. Poor Chris, you can imagine. He had to do 100% of the cooking, for himself, cleaning, errand running, taking me to the Dr’s every week, dog-care, etc.

I think I’m most resentful that I couldn’t enjoy my pregnancy. Even in December when we found out it was a boy, which we desperately wanted, I was inially very happy but still too sick to enjoy the moment for long. I screamed “You did it honey!” to Chris when she said it's a boy, and I smiled for the first time in months. I even cried, happy tears….five minutes later, I was back in my funk.

On Christmas day, 2009, the depression and anxiety, along with the nausea and vomitting…just vanished. Poof, gone. My life was hell from Oct 7, 2009 to Christmas day. I still wasn’t showing, so I didn’t look pregnant, in fact, I’d lost 25 pounds. Chris and I went shopping and bought stuff for our baby boy. It was the first bout of happiness I’d felt since I saw his heartbeat at week six.

I was nearly six months pregnant, but didn’t look pregnant. I finally felt good, and wanted to go out in the dead of winter to show off the belly, but I had none. Even if I did, in the winter, under a heavy coat, who would see it? And that’s another thing, what’s with the cold? All pregnant women are HOT while pregnant, not me! Nope…I was freezing since the day I found out I was pregnant. Of course I was pregnant during fall, winter and spring AND it was the coldest we’ve had since we lived here. I spent months wearing a T-shirt beneath a sweatshirt, beneath a fleece, beaneath a coat when out and two blankets while in. It was TORTURE!

Aside from freezing and still having no appetite, I felt great for two weeks! My fibromyalgia symptoms were fading, I was having BM’s finally, I was able to eat about one small meal a day, I was drinking water, but still losing weight. Two weeks later, I looked down and looked the same. I swear, the next day, boom…belly! I’ll never forget. We were in Texarkana, when we arrived, I was thin, when we left the next morning, I had a belly…a visible belly! I was finally showing, at 24 weeks.

I was happy to be showing but then…the pain began. Yup…pain. All freakin’ over pain. My shoulders were killing me, my back was killing me, my groin was KILLING ME! I mean, hello, groin pain? I had no idea that would happen and I certainly didn’t think if it did it would happen that soon. I was still losing weight, yet I had horrific groin pain. I finally began cravings, but they were for only sweets…donuts to be exact. I had no appetite but I could stomach a donut.

At the same time, my pre-term labor officially began, but I didn’t know it. I was standing in a kitchen in Austin, TX when I got my first Braxton-Hicks contraction. Sadly, it never stopped. It was a constant, strong, non-painful but very obvious contraction…that never stopped until the day I delivered, two months later.

Twenty Five Weeks Pregnant...January 2010

As soon as we got back from Texas I called my Dr to tell her about the non-stop BH contractions and she sent me to labor and delivery. Of course there was a blizzard that day, so the four mile drive took us over an hour. It was my first of five trips to L&D in the next two months. I was hooked up to monitors to verify the contractions. They also did the first of five fetal fibronectin tests on me. They are JUST like a papsmear. They scrape your cervix (OUCH when you're pregnant!) and test the sample. If it comes back positive, you WILL go into labor in the next few days. If it comes out negative, you more than likely won’t deliver in the next two weeks, however, you still may. (http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/fetal-fibronectin/MY00128)

I was sent home and told to drink water and just rest as much as possible. The contractions grew in intensity every day, as did the groin pain! It was so bad that I literally walked like a hunch back most days. I could no longer even lay on the couch on my left side, for some reason my left rib cage hurt so badly, it felt like someone broke my ribs with a hammer. I couldn’t sleep on my back from the pain, so I was stuck on my right side.

Then came the heartburn. I was carrying high so my stomach was squashed so I could only eat, literally, ‘a’ bite of food per day. My entire body was sore, but it was nice to have a cute round belly and even though it was cold out still, I tried to show it off as often as I could. I waddled, yes, at six months pregnant, from the groin pain. So I couldn’t show off too much.

I had five painful weeks of overall goodness. Yes I contracted 24 hours a day and I was in horrible pain all of the time, but I was happy for the most part, and looking forward to meeting…William Christopher Storm, as he was known at that time. We were thrilled we were having a William Christopher and not a Sienna Elizabeth. We both wanted a boy so badly. I still prefered gender-neurtal colors for the most part, we chose green for most stuff, but we were ecstatic to be having a boy! And I was ecstatic to finally have the dishwasher repaired after seven months!

Twenty-nine weeks pregnant, 2/26/10

When I was 29 weeks pregnant, I was having pain. My Dr did another fetal fibronectin test and discovered that I was 1.5 centimeters dilated. That’s when everything went from good to crap. I was put on ‘modified’ bedrest. I was told to lay down as much as possible. If I had to go out, use a wheelchair or motorized cart. ( I did so...twice and both times it was so embarrassing) Sit and watch tv…those were her orders. I made several more trips to labor and delivery over the next few weeks. I received steroid shots to boost William’s lungs. Even at 29 weeks, she could tell from ultrasounds and just feeling him, that he was large…exceptionally large for his gestation.

A phone-call later and Mom was on a plane, moving up to Ohio to help take care of me and the house and the dogs and the husband. Chris had to get a transfer to a store closer to home so he wasn’t over an hour away in case of an emergancy. This all occurred three days before my shower. My shower still transpired, but I had to sit and be waited on the entire time. My friends were FANTASTIC! Even the ones who coulnd’t make it sent the most wonderful stuff and good wishes. Chris rushed like a mad man to finish the nursery for me, and I really couldn’t help him at that point.

The day of my shower (March 6, 2010) 30 weeks pregnant

31 weeks pregnant...

Mom and I, 32 weeks pregnant...

32 weeks pregnant...

The nursery was going to be gray with black furniture but then we went to Ikea and one of the rooms was chartreuse, and I fell in love with it! Chris painted William a lovely chartreuse nursery, with black furniture compliments of Mom and Dad.

Elizabeth and Marlene hosted my shower on March 6, 2010

Our friends were fabulous! Not sure what we’d done without them. We got a fantastic pack-n-play from Margaret, highchair from Elizabeth, stroller and carseat from Liz, big-boy carseat from Nikki, bouncy seat from Charlene, swing from Mom, Harley Rocker from Joe and Jeanne, homemade afghan from Patty, clothes-clothes and more clothes from Cheryl (the godparents) and mom's friends, plus a shower from Marlene and Elizabeth, baby monitor from Lizzy, diapers from Misty, and for my future class of 2032 alumist…Bama gear from Katie. Chris’s cousin and Aunt’s gave us gift cards (which went for toys!) and clothes. Chris's sisters and parents pitched in for some pajamas and some blankets. Kortney knitted William a cute little lamb, and she and Wenbi got me bottles too. My old pal Heather got me a hooter-hider and breastfeeding books, and Chrissy gave me great advice and more clothes! This kid had more clothes than any other baby in history I think.

Cousin Patty handmade this afghan for William

Kortney made this sweet lamb for William...it sat in the NICU with him....

Let us eat cake!

Our friends and my family gave us so much wonderful stuff for William, there was literally nothing left for Chris and I to purchase for him. Bed rest sucked. I was in too much pain to lay on my right for too long, my acid reflux was so bad I couldn’t lay for too long. It was hard to drink water and lay down at the same time. Chris got me some movie channels for the boredome. The Dr said I could go out from time to time as long as I limited my walking and standing.

March 20, 2010, 32 weeks pregnant

ONE week before I gave birth...March 20, 2010

One week before he was born, I balooned. Up to that point most people thought I was only five months pregnant or so. Then, boom! My gut exploded! I was suddenly very uncomfortable. My ribs and groin were excruciating by that point. I still hadn’t gained any weight from my pre-pregnancy weight. All I could think about were donuts, which is why I never had any. On Wednesday I went to see my Dr, as I did every week. She did my final fetal fibronectin test and checked me, I was back down to 1 centimeter.

She told me she just wanted me to get to 33 weeks…from there, life expectancy was so much better. The next day, Thursday, I made it to 33 weeks…the next day, Friday, my water broke.

And that’s the tale of my horrific pregnancy, from beginning to end. Nearly every problem one could have, I had...except for diabetes, stretch marks and hemorrhoids (which I already had). I still feel cheated that I hated most of my pregnancy. There aren't as many pictures as I'd like because I was just too sick to pose. I meant to document the entire thing with a scrapbook, never happened. I didn't even scan in most of my ultrasound pictures...I was too sick and weak to do so.

Why did getting pregnant have to prove so difficult? Why was staying pregnant so difficult? Why was it all so horrible? Yes, woe-is-me...but everyone who witnessed the seven months of hell knows it was just that...hell. I will more than likely never have another child, and who could blame me? I hate that. I hate that I feel as if I have no choice in the matter. With my age and health as is...and what I went through, it'd be unfair to William for me to go through that again and possibly be as sick, or worse. I can't imagine ever going through that again. Bed rest, another preemie possibly. The only good things about pregnancy, aside from the baby, was the lack of headaches I got and most of my fibromyalgia symptoms finally fading.

The labor story is a whole other blog! LOL! Even that went horribly, not the delivery, just the labor part. I mean, clearly, in the end, I got a healthy baby out of it…(NICU is yet another blog)….but man…if everyone’s pregnancy was like mine…the human race would cease to exist.

The week in review....July 25-July 31st..

2010-07-31T17:14:00.004-04:00

Big week! William said "HI"...and I got proof! He posed for some great pix in the chair, and he now weighs 10 lb, 12 oz and is 23 and 3/4 inches long.

So I was taking really crappy video of lil' dude and I said "Hi" to him and he smiled and said "Hi" back....yeah, a fluke, but still, he said it, so there! Well no, so here! Here's the video! July 26, 2010.

He also played with his dangly toys, a lot, this week. He had his four month vaccinations, poor guy, he wasn't overly pleased, but did well overall.

We also attended the class for his baptism, which will be held on September 11, 2010 at 4pm.

Cake design 101

2010-07-28T21:52:00.004-04:00

So I can't decorate a cake to save my life! I'm on a mission to learn how in the next thirty days! Wish me luck! Below is my first attempt...

It started out innocently enough...a simple box cake to practice on...white cake!

Then a freakin' crack in the freakin' cake cuz I freakin' suck!

I made some cream cheese frosting for the filling

I normally can't frost a cake to save my life, however with the new technique I learned, I think it looks halfway decent...

Okay, 1/4 way decent...

Alright so I can't pipe cream cheese frosting on the bottom to save my life...I've never piped before...

"W" for William, these cakes are for his baptism party, but they'll be white, I used chocolate for practice.

I used the shell-tip to make these lumpy things...eh...

I give this cake a thumb down!

But Chris seems to like it.... ;-)

My grandmother, La Verne Bast

2010-07-25T16:00:00.002-04:00

I can't believe it's been ten whole years since Mema's passing. We always joked that she'd live forever because she was never sick and never complained. I don't remember her ever going to see a Dr for any reason, aside from her Dentist on occasion. She didn't even need glasses, just simple reading ones that she got from Walgreens.

I couldn't say grandma so she became Mema and the name stuck....most everyone called her Mema, it's like it was a title. LOL. When my mom became a grandmother, the issue arose of what to call her. She toyed with Mema at first, but there is only one Mema...so Mom is a grandma, or "glam-ma" as she likes to be called. ;-)

What's so sad is, the last decade or so of Mema's life wasn't so great. Since I knew her, she lost her father and then very shortly after, she lost her husband at a relatively young age, and then she lost her mother, and then, her brother. A few years later, she lost her only son, and then my Mom got sick. The last few years of her life, I was living in Alabama going to school. I wasn't there when she died. She got very sick the day I flew home from Greece. I drove down to Miami for her surgery the next day. I think I stayed a week. I told her about my trip and held her hand and tried to feed her all these pills the nurses insisted she take.

The surgery didn't do what we'd hoped. It was a lot for my mother to deal with alone, being she too was ill. I had a job and apartment back in Alabama that I had to return to. I was in Birmingham when Mom called me to tell me Mema died. Even though I knew it was coming, I think I was in shock. I was pretty numb actually.

My first thought was that of relief. She had suffered terribly that last month. No one should have to live like that. I was also relieved that Mom was with her in the end, so she didn't die alone...in the end, it's the best we can hope for, to have our loved ones, or one, with us when we go. In that sense, she was lucky.

I think of Mema often. So much has happened in the ten years since she died. I am always regretful that she wasn't here to see all the things that have happened. She would have enjoyed attending my wedding. I think she'd liked to have met my husband. Although she wasn't a pet-lover, I think she'd love to see all the pictures I took of Pippin and Brady over the years. I'm sure she would have really loved that we bought a house, she would enjoy visiting us too, since we're so close to Pittsburgh.

But mostly and most obviously, she'd loved to have met her great-grandson. I know she'd love a great-granddaughter, but I have a feeling she'd be thrilled to have a great-grandson. She's like me, we like boys. LOL. She'd been overjoyed at William's arrival....of course she would have been 87 at the time of his birth...shame on me for having children so late in life huh? ;-)

More than anything, she'd loved to have seen William's baptism. She was a very religious person after all...having William baptized Catholic would have really made her happy.

---

The more I think about it, the more I realize I'm more like Mema than I am anyone else. We had quite a bit in common....except I 'like' to cook. LOL...Mema was never shy about her hatred of cooking. Entertaining, she loved, cooking three meals a day, seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year on the other hand, not so much. She did not dine out often, so she cooked all the time. I like the idea of entertaining, actually doing it on the other hand...well, still getting the hang of that. What I do know of entertaining, I learned from her.

I remember the day I learned her name. One of my favorite shows was Laverne and Shirley. Mema told me, "you know, my name is La Verne." I said, "No it's not!" she said, "Yes, Yes it is!" "I said, NO, it's not because you are not wearing an 'L' on your shirt!" So...I made her one out of paper....she wore it. ;-)

Since she had no cable, UGH....and never learned how to drive, summers and holidays at her house were a tad boring for me. So we had to go low-tech. We played cards. Lots of cards. King In The Corner, Poker and Gin, not that Old Maid crap. LOL. We also played Boggle. She loved to tell me stories of her childhood back in Pittsburgh. She and her best friend Grace would go out in the fields for long walks and run from the hobos! :-)

She and Grace befriended a little girl that they really didn't like all that much, just so they could ride her bike! It's funny to hear your grandmother tell you a story like that. It's something so common, that so many kids do, and she did it! She said playing Kick The Can got old and this girl had a really great bike! LOL! She told me about skipping school to go to the roller skating rink with her friends. One day she wore red lipstick to school and then wiped it off, but it stained so when she got home her father could tell she'd been wearing lipstick and grounded her.

Bup-Bup and Granny

She grew up during the depression but Bup-Bup had it pretty good. He had a house, his own business, and the ONLY car in Brentwood. Her Aunt Helen who she adored had to move in with them, along with her children. Mema became very close to her Cousin Evelyn, who lived in her dining room. Granny would feed random hobo's who sat on her porch during the depression, and Aunt Helen would toilet-paper people's houses for some reason. Helen had a wacky sense of humor, light hearted and fun. I never met her, but I felt like I knew her, Mema really loved Aunt Helen. Granny was a bit more straight-laced and serious. Mema was a combo of the two.

Mema loved telling me about visiting her parent's friends, who lived on a farm. They had 16 kids, yes, 16 kids, and no indoor plumbing! I don't think they were Amish. ;-) Mema and her brother Leo would go out and stay for long weekends on the farm, and pee in the outhouse...collect eggs...and play with the multitude of children.

Mema was very good looking, and men really liked her. She had boyfriends. There were several very interested parties. She went on a blind date with George, whose brother Henry tagged along...so she ended up marrying Henry! LOL! Sadly they had to elope, so she never got her dream wedding. She wore a olive green suit to her wedding, a Mass wedding, with only two other people in attendance. She and Papa honeymooned at Niagra Falls, gas rations making up the bulk of their wedding presents. Then Papa was stationed in New Orleans, so Mema left Pittsburgh to head down south, where she made life long friends.

Mema and Papa in New Orleans

Mema, Papa and my Mom, 1949

They eventually had two children and moved to Miami, FL...the rest is history. Papa worked on the Alaskan pipeline, Mema raised a sick child, and a hyper active son who kept her on her toes, she entertained, took in her sick mother, traveled with her cousin Evelyn, collected dolls, watched old westerns, drank a pot of coffee a day, buttered her coffee-cake, enjoyed the occasional margarita and beer, shopped at Macys and Penneys, kept a pristine house, helped raise a granddaughter, and loved pizza. A very ordinary life in the end.

Everyone I know has great memories of Mema. She was very well loved. She was kind hearted. She had a sense of humor. She was upbeat and positive. She was stubborn and strong. She befriended a kid she didn't like...so she could ride her bike....that story still cracks me up!

LaVerne Helen (Mottmann) Bast

Aug 21, 1922 - July 26, 2000

The week in review....July 17-July 24th...

2010-07-24T08:42:00.004-04:00

William finally hit the double digits! At 16 weeks of age, he's now 10 pounds, 4 ounces and about 23 and 3/4 inches long! Which means, he's no longer wearing size New Born clothes. He still fits into some, but I retired them all to make way for the size 0-3 month, which are still a tad large on him. But they must be worn before winter comes.

My lactation consultant lent me a ubber-super-mega-mondo breast pump, it's about 38 yrs old and weighs about 40 lbs! I must say though, it's the best pump I've ever had! I've been power-pumping this week to get my supply back up again.

William's new "Snuggle Nest" arrived, equipped with a night light! So far, so good, William seems to be enjoying it and I find a sleep a little better with him in it.

The biggest milestone of the week was when William rolled over! One second, he was on his belly, the next, on his back!

Video below of him rolling over....

William had fun with finger paints this week and hung out with Calvin too!

Misty met William for the first time! She really has a way with babies! He was captivated by her too! He even "high fived" her....

And Marlene paid him another visit.
He's also getting very good at holding up his head!
All and all, it was a very productive and exciting week! I wonder what next week will bring?

Frogger fun!

2010-07-22T17:28:00.008-04:00

Just for giggles! Enjoy!

(The frogger paci has a mind of its own...enjoy the tale!)

Hey! Hey you! WAKE UP!

Ha Ha I'm on your head!

Come on lil' dude, play with me!

Hey! Pssst! I'm your paci! Let's play!

Please...wake up!!!!

Come on! I'm your paci lil' man!

Hey, now I'm over here...waaaay over here!

Yes! Yes! The eyes are open!

You're more alert! Now...bite me!

What???!! Thou shalt have NO other paci's before me!!!

Okay, so let's try this again...

Oh no! That impostor paci is back!

Shoo! Shoooo impostor paci!

Ah, just me, now he has to suck on me!!!!

Oh come on!!!!!

Third time is a charm! Look, he's happy to see me!

Wait...what? Who the hell are you?

Look! He's protesting your presence! Scram puppy-paci!

I said Shoo, you mangy mutt!

Don't make me beg!

Okay, okay, I'm begging...please ignore him lil' dude!

No! NO! NO!!!! Don't do it! Don't do it! PLEASE!!!

Put that thing down! Put it down! Do not put it into your mouth! I'm mean it!!!

Hey, I'm not saying it again...put down the puppy paci this instant!

Oh the frogmanity!

Tales, from the titty...

2010-07-21T11:50:00.004-04:00

I met with a lactation consultant yesterday. She lent me a super-ubber-mega-mondo-pump, I do believe that is its given name. It's about 35+ years old and weighs about 40 lbs...amazingly, it's the best pump I've ever used. My supply dipped last week so I'm 'power pumping' today with super-ubber-mega-mondo-pump and it's going very well thus far.

It appears William has a 'high' palate and a lazy tongue. His suck...sucks. LOL...pun intended. He sees the Ear Nose and Throat DR next week and I need him to perform a 'suck test' on William, so we're not out of the woods yet.

However I'm pleased to report my blisters have healed and there's minimal to no pain now while feeding him, which is wonderful! We're still struggling with side feeding in bed. Some nights are okay, some nights, ouch...not so much. But it's all going well, little one managed to gain 1 lb in a week last week! He's finally out of size "new born" clothes :-( and is wearing his 0-3 month outfits.

I read an interesting local article the other day (http://www.wlwt.com/news/24301209/detail.html) I must say it's amazing in this day and age that people are still afraid and offended by breastfeeding mothers. As a friend of mine said today, 'we ARE mammals' after all. Not only should women feel free to breastfeed in public, but they shouldn't feel compelled to 'have to' cover up or hide in a bathroom or even move to a less busy area. I see women in 'hooter hiders' all over town, and there's nothing wrong with it. I've seen women without them, feeding their child, and I still see nothing wrong with it.

With every passing week I hope my 'tales from the titty' get better. We'll see what the Dr said next week about 'the suck'. Until then, I have super-ubber-mega-mondo-pump to keep me company.

Making co-sleeping a lot easier...

2010-07-19T22:21:00.007-04:00

I got my Snugglenest today! (Thank you SO MUCH Joyce and Sylvia!) I hope this makes the co sleeping much easier. I'll rest more soundly knowing he's safer and it even has a night light! Woo hoo! It also closes up like a little suitcase for traveling, which is nice.

Of course in order to feed him I need to remove him from the 'nest' and usually in the "late" mornings, from 5am-6 or 7am, he likes to sleep with his head 'on' me...he sleeps more soundly longer that way. I hope he likes it!

The dogs seemed really interested...

It folds up for easy use ;-)

Brady is giving it the sniff-inspection

Fits snuggly! Just need to insert the boy now...

The day of milestones! Double digits and rolling over...

2010-07-19T16:37:00.006-04:00

Talk about "Roll Tide!" My future Bama alumnist rolled over today for the very first time!

First thing is first...last night he started to wiggle and jiggle like a flopping fish on the changing table, with an adorable look on his face...he was having fun. We captured some of it on video but by the time I got the camera he was tired of having fun.

Today....he reached a major milestone. He's in...the double digits. Yes, he's finally 10 pounds! 10 pounds 4 ounces to be exact. It's wonderful, and a little sad at the same time...he's not a wee little guy anymore and now I have to retire all of his size New Born clothes, but he's wearing one in today's pictures that's still large on him, go figure.

He's 23.75 inches long and is still in the third percentile for his age...but is doing great on breast milk and supplemental formula. As of today he's 16 weeks old..or just shy of 9 weeks adjusted.

He finally LOVES his bouncy seat! So naturally we neglected to turn it off and the four size D batteries died...ugh.

As for his second milestone, without warning, he just rolled over today...and I missed it. He was on his belly, I turned to get the camera, four seconds later, he was off the mat, lying on his back! Wow! I was not expecting that! Thankfully, he did it again for me and that time I was able to video tape it! And then I took a couple of pictures.... ;-)

I do hope you enjoy his documented journey. I'm so grateful that I was here to witness it...even if I did miss the first one...at least I was there for the second and third one!

Below is a video of him rolling over...ENJOY!

To see the video of him flopping like a fish...click here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcjer7mnHSY

Frenulum? The week in review...July 7th thru July 15th, 2010

2010-07-15T11:18:00.007-04:00

I had no idea what a frenulum was a few months ago...little did I know that a tiny piece of skin called a frenulum had been making my life an actual living hell for the last three months. The reason why my breastfeeding attempts were so painful I'd scream, were all caused by William's short frenulum, or tongue-tie. Lovely. Blistered nipples for months on end, bleeding, skin peeling off...in so much pain I've not worn clothes in three months, all caused by a frenulum.

How did the NICU miss it? How did the lactation consultants at the NICU miss it? How did his THREE pediatrician miss it? It was a consultant at my La Leche League meeting who found it. I had to see a ENT for it and sure enough, his frenulum (or piece of skin that attaches the tongue to the bottom of the mouth) was too short, prohibiting him from properly using his tongue to get the milk out, thus stretching my nipple out to a very unnatural shape and causing probably us both great discomfort. He was unable to draw out enough milk, so he worked too hard, causing him to burn calories and fall asleep. And me, well...pain.

The ENT had the frenulum clipped right in his office. He used a topical numbing cream and a minute later, he was done, and William seemed just fine....some blood, but he seemed to be in no discomfort. I didn't notice ANY change in my pain until five days later, as it took five days for the blisters to heal, but each day got better. Now, breastfeeding doesn't hurt at all, and I can resume wearing clothes!

For now we're concentrating on his weight, and him gaining more of it.We tried a high calorie milk based formula, knowing it may not agree with him, and it indeed, did not. I've never heard a carbon based life form fart so much in my life. We both went two nights in a row with no sleep. He's back on soy, and breast milk and he'll see the Dr next week.

He now has this huge bald spot on the back of his head, and his hair seems to be turning a soft reddish-blond, his eyes are still blue-gray. He can hold his head up much better now and is still sucking his thumb when he can't get to his paci.

My kid has a big-ass head!

Chicken-Pot-Pie Casserole

2010-07-14T17:40:00.005-04:00

Okay I kind of made this up, so the measurements will not be exact.

This is what happens when you have random stuff in the kitchen and you're not sure what to make of them...you get a hybrid.

Ingredients

3 chicken breasts

Sliced mushrooms

Heavy cream

Chicken broth

Shredded cheese (any flavor you like)

1 sheet puff-pastry

Boil-in-Bag rice, (I use brown)

1 medium yellow onion

1/4 cup white wine

3 tbsn butter

Flour, salt, pepper, Italian seasoning, Olive oil.

Pre-heat oven to 350, defrost puff-pastry.

Sauté the onions in olive oil and 1 tbs butter until translucent then remove from pan. Slice the chicken into bite size chunks and sauté in olive oil. When the chicken is done, remove the chicken and add more oil and 1 tbsn butter. Add mushrooms and brown them. Once brown, add salt and the white wine....continue to sautee until some of the wine is absorbed.

Add about 1 tbs of flour and 1 tbs of butter (to make a roux) whisk the flour and butter in the mushrooms until the sauce thickens. Add cream (I eye ball it...maybe 1 cup of cream) and an equal amount of chicken broth. Switch to a wooden spoon and turn up the heat, bring to a bubble and then lower to a simmer. Add the chicken and onions back in. Season with salt, pepper and other seasonings as desired to taste.

Mix the rice with the chicken mushroom sauce in a casserole dish or bowl. Top with the shredded cheese and then top that with the puff pastry. Cut slits into the pastry and then bake until the pastry is finished (the instructions are on the pastry, it's about 15 minutes). Let stand for five minutes and dive in.

It's easier than it sounds. To make it even simpler, just add cream of mushroom soup instead of the mushrooms and cream, no need for roux then.

My thoughts on housewives...

2010-07-13T13:34:00.010-04:00

As long as I can remember, I've wanted to be a housewife. I think it was the glorified Leave It To Beaver crap I watched as a child. My mom had it pretty good when she was a housewife. She kept a very clean home, cooked nearly every night, and we seemed to go out, either for errands or for fun, almost every day. We'd lunch with her other housewife friends and their kids who were my age. Mom didn't entertain a whole lot, that was Mema's thing. Mema enjoyed throwing dinner parties and luncheons.

I was going to be the housewife and mom who had a nice house, cooked great meals, threw wonderful parties and wore nice clothes. Of course it never occurred to me that housewives had to....clean. How do you do that? And that children required first getting pregnant, and then being pregnant, and then giving birth, and then they holler and leak all over the house. And parties, well one needs actual FRIENDS in town to have a successful party. Oh and the best way to be a housewife is to maybe have a husband....yikes.

So then I decided to become a rock star, or a teacher, or a writer, or a rock star who taught and wrote, but in the back of my mind, housewife always loomed. It's like the woman's movement never occurred right? Wrong....freedom of choice baby, the choice to pursue whatever makes you happy ;-)

Then I had the 20 yr stretch where I didn't want kids, so the housewife thing flew out the window. I'd be a career girl instead! But I was talked out of every career I wanted to pursue, from teacher, to writer, to advertising exec, to cartoonist, to graphic artist, to photographer, to journalist, to mortician (yes you read that correctly) to Late Night Talk Show Host, to Ichthyologist (look it up)...so I majored in TV Production instead? I don't know, don't ask. All I know is I was hella-good at it, I don't mind saying I was top of my class in that...all of it, audio, editing, camera, on-camera and my favorite, directing. So naturally I invested time, energy and money into this and never got a job in the field.

I'd decided to not have kids, not get married, but work instead....so I did the exact opposite. Now I did work, there are those who may think I've never had a job, I've had plenty of jobs....I've worked since I was 17 yrs old. I've worked for minimum wage, and moderate wage, but never decent wage. I've worked crap jobs and crappier jobs, but never a decent job. I've never worked in my field and I never had a job I was good at. In fact, I worked in fields I sucked at! Take the things I'm the worst at and pay me crap money and NO benefits to do them, oh and make sure these jobs are 50 miles away too, and that was my career, or lack thereof.

Every job I had was the worst job I ever had. Every job I had utilized nothing of me, but required stuff I wasn't good at. Sure, put a dyslexic girl who never passed math in the accounting department....give the girl with carpal tunnel and that dyslexia again a job in data entry...tell the girl who can't write a memo to save her life, or take notes, or file to be a secretary. My favorite was have the girl with scoliosis who can't stand or walk for more than 5 minutes work a cash register in a health food store. But I digress, this is about being a housewife!!!!

So I couldn't clean, big deal...I was just as qualified to be a housewife as I was to be a crap ass secretary, and to make things worse, I was a secretaries secretary. And for no money and no benefits but I digress again.....my point is, beware of what you wish for....

Though no fault of my own, I became a housewife. And then because we're infertile but somehow I got pregnant, I'm now a stay-at-home mom and housewife....benefits YES, pay, LOL....

Okay so I never learned how to clean. How is that my fault? So I don't know how to mop, I mean I guess it's simple, Akeem did it in Coming to America after all. True, I can't bend over (bad knees, baaad back) to scrub the tub, and vacuuming KILLS my back....I can dust...kind of, I mean I have asthma so that sucks. I did learn the hard way to dust before you vacuum though ;-)

I can clean a kitchen like it's no ones business! It was always my job at home to load, run and unload the dishwasher and empty the trash, a job I'm happy to now give my husband. As for cooking....no offense to the family, I come from a line of women who really didn't care to cook all that much or didn't do it all that often. Mom had to stop after the divorce, so she 'forgot' how to cook and Mema cooked but hated it, hence I was never taught, I taught myself. Yeah I guess I can teach myself how to clean too huh? ;-)

After 20 years of cooking I can finally say with almost certainty that I'm a half-way decent cook who makes food more often than not that is edible. One dream...realized! Check that off the list.

So...now all of the sudden I find that I'm a housewife and stay-at-home mom....and it's everything I thought it'd be....but what I didn't expect was....I'm embarrassed by it. I've turned into one of those horrid women who responds "I'm just a mom" to people who ask what I do. Before I got pregnant it was even worse....I "do nothing"....$50k of college down the drain to sit at home and do...nothing.

I feel like the world's biggest loser all of the sudden. Why? This is what I've always wanted. I threw a dinner party and it wasn't all it was cracked up to be! Cleaning SUCKS! Cooking, well, sure, it's great and all, but cleaning up afterwards and getting the groceries required to cook....suck! That and they use up practically no brain cells whatsoever. Cooking is great, when you're in the mood, when you're NOT, it's hell on Earth! And where the hell does all this damn dust come from?

So now I have what I want. I'm a housewife and a stay-at-home mom. They always seem to go in that order, housewife/mom....why is that? Am I really a housewife first, mom second? I seem to think not. My husband on the other hand, that's a different story, he thinks housewife first, mom second, well no, maid first, chef second, then mom. :-)

Everything I know about cleaning I learned from Chris. He taught me how to do laundry when I was 32! He's a great house cleaner! That dude could make a fortune cleaning houses....we can thank his Mom, who taught him how to clean when he was a child. My little issue now is....he was upset that I took a day off of house cleaning last week. Sorry...William nurses, on average, ten hours a day. He'll typically only nap while on the breast. Not only does that leave little time for housework, but NO time for me and my needs. You know, like...EATING! That thing I just don't do since William never let's me. LOL....Napping? As a woman with fibro and chronic fatigue, I'd like to nap. I'm on Dr's orders TO NAP but since little Willy does't nap, mommy doesn't either.

Yes, I clean, and yes, I cook, I cook food I can't eat! LOL! Here's my point. I think the role of housewife and stay-at-home mom has changed since the idealistic 1950s. I could be spit-ballin' here, but it seemed back in the good-old-days mom's would bottle feed their babies (as was very common in those days) and then put them in a playpen while they cleaned the house, in their high heals and pearls. LOL, okay, no heals, no pearls.

Dinner was hot and ready on the table when the bread earner walked through that door. Couples would often go out on weekends, leaving little ones with family or baby sitters. Houses were clean, the men folk were fed, women had dish-pan hands, babies were....babies...who cried but it was best to "let them cry it out"...you know, the Ferber Method, only it wasn't called that back then. Back then, you didn't want to hold a baby too much for fear of "spoiling" them, and don't even talk about co-sleeping or baby wearing....just...not something that people did or if they did, they didn't admit it, at least not in the western world.

From what I've witnessed, things have changed. Almost all of my friends who are moms are stay-at-home moms. They are not like the 1950s housewife either. In fact, they'd never even say they WERE housewives, because in their eyes, they aren't...they are MOMS...who stay home. It seems the quintessential housewife has taken a backseat to the new millennium power-stay-at-home mom. Babies first....husband second.....house third....pets....ugh....do they even exist anymore? (Of course they do but let's face it, they don't rank as high)

My friends keep neat homes for the most part. But the home is not their top priority. Neither is their husband's meal being served 'on time'. In fact, some dudes have to fend for themselves! Every woman I know puts her baby and/or children first. More and more modern mom's are breastfeeding these days, and it's not like bottle feeding. It can be VERY time consuming, and virtually impossible to do anything else when you nurse.

If you have a comfort-nurser like me, then you're really tied down. Not that it's a bad thing, not at all, but I must admit, while I sat here on Friday evening breastfeeding my son, in the back of my mind I did think, "there's laundry that needs folded and that dishwasher needs emptied, reloaded and run again." I'm not going to ask my husband who works his ass off to do it either. It just won't get done today! I have to be comfortable with that realization. Tomorrow....it'll get done tomorrow.

So the husband comes home and volunteers to do it himself, but then let's me hear about it all day.... :-) What's more important, nourishing and soothing your screaming son, or putting away a glass into the cupboard? Most people will say it's the kid. I think Chris has that 1950's way of thinking of housewives....house first, hubbies second, then babies and...do we even have dogs?

For right now, it's the living things in my life that hold the most importance. Without a solid marriage, William won't have a complete and strong childhood....husbands are important (even when they give you crap like he does! LOL!). Babies at this age NEED to be held and loved and given your full attention... especially a little preemie who spent his first month of life living in an isolette, hardly being held or talked to by anyone but me and Chris when we visited (and Mom and Dad too).

Nothing is more important to a breastfeeding woman than breastfeeding your child, especially a preemie who needs those antibodies more than ever. And since I have a colic baby who moans and cries all day, comfort nursing is the best thing for him. He'll burn fewer calories sleeping on me than he will writhing and screaming all day. That means things like housework and cooking, and for me, eating, are no longer priorities.

Yes, my child needs to live in a clean and sanitary home, and he does. But if a dish resides in the dishwasher 24 hours longer than initially intended, it's not the end of the world.

Most modern moms don't "let them cry it out" anymore. You can't spoil a baby before the age of six months...and is it really spoiling to hold your baby? I don't think so. Every mom I know holds their babies all the time. Many sleep in the same room with their babies. None of my friends "Ferberize"their offspring. Heck, a lot of my friends don't even have their kids attend pre-school.

So our houses don't look like they can be photographed without prior warning for Better Homes and Gardens....is it the end of the world? Some of our meals come via a drive-thru, or God forbid, the "man" of the house pitches and cooks, which more and more men these days are doing. Laundry sometimes piles up. Housewife doesn't equal maid anymore in these modern times.

These days, we are moms first, wives second, 'house'wives....third. After all, they're only babies for a brief time....laundry lasts a lifetime!

(BTW, I still love my dogs, so to prove it, I'm posting a lovely picture of them for you to enjoy! Enjoy!)

The easiest soup ever made....

2010-07-08T17:56:00.005-04:00

I can thank Giada for most of this recipe. It's the easiest soup known to man. Beef and cannellini bean soup.

Ingredients

1 lb beef stew meat

1 box (32 oz) beef broth

1 can of petite diced tomatoes

3-4 cans of cannellini (white beans)

onion and garlic powder, salt, pepper and Italian seasoning to taste (a bay leaf would be nice)

Brown and season the beef in some olive oil. Add the canned tomatoes with the juice. Rinse the beans and add them. Add the broth. Simmer. DONE! Tastes good topped with grated Parmesan cheese.

I told you it was easy. ;-)

I'm not the kind of parent I thought I'd be...

2010-07-04T12:21:00.006-04:00

Everyone offers you advice when you're pregnant, or become a new parent. The one bit of advice I got that was true beyond the shadow of a doubt was from Chrissy, when she simply said "NEVER say never."

I asked all my friends their opinions on crib bumpers, strollers, diapers and formula. Of course they all had something different to say. I've discovered on my own that it doesn't matter what kind of diaper I use...Huggies, Meijer brand or cloth....they're all the same (The cloth need changing more often). The brand formula I use doesn't matter, so long as it's soy, he reacts the same way. Even nursing advice, because I've heard it all, and it all conflicts. What works for me does not work for others. Everyone is different, every baby is different and every preemie is different.

In the end, the only bit of advice I got that holds true for me, for us, is to never say never.

I said I'd never breastfeed. I swore I'd never co-sleep. I said I'd never use any kind of sling or baby backpack. I said I'd 'almost' definitely put him into the local public school. I said I'd never take him to Church. Turns out I was wrong on all of that.

We all know about the breastfeeding so there's no need to discuss that further. As for co-sleeping, I swore I'd never do it. All I need is some 8 yr old kid still in my bed! Babies need to sleep, on their own, in a crib, in their own room. That's how I saw it. My house isn't that big, it's a one story, it's no big deal for me to get up and go to his room to tend to him at night. I thought I'd roll over and smother him. I thought I'd get worse sleep with him in my bed with me. Wrong.

How we began to co-sleep was purely by accident. His first night home from the NICU I was concerned about his breathing so I wanted to sleep in the same room with him. I planned to sleep on the couch and have him in the pack-n-play. Instead we both fell asleep by accident on the couch. He was swaddled, in my arms, and the next thing I knew, it was 2am and he was hungry. (I was still exclusively pumping at that time)

I decided I loved sleeping with him in my arms. I could feel and hear him breathe and I loved having him that close to me. I thought, well, I'll do this for one more week. A week turned into a month. We eventually moved into the bed. Now he mostly sleeps throughout the night. If he gets hungry, I roll over on my side and nurse him back to sleep. It's great. I actually get MORE sleep this way, and so does he. In the mornings around 4am he gets fussy, so I hold him closer to my chest so he's warm and can hear my heartbeat, and he sleeps right on through until 6 or 7am that way.

When he loses his paci at night, I'm right there to stick it back in. I can do this 100 times during a night. If I were not right next to him, I'd be getting UP 100 times a night to put it back in for him, so yeah, I get more sleep and better sleep this way. My plan now is to co-sleep until I'm done breastfeeding, and Chris is on-board with this.

I was not going to be a marsupial mom. I dig strollers....that is until I realized what a royal pain in the butt they are. My stroller takes up my ENTIRE trunk, and it barely fits. We have to squeeze it in there so hard it's all cut up now. So the girls at my LLL group gave me a sling. I didn't want to use a sling because I simply thought it was stupid. I thought it'd KILL my neck and shoulder as I have serious neck and shoulder problems. Again, I was wrong.

When worn correctly, it does not hurt my neck or shoulder at all. My back now that's a different story (OUCH!). Keeping him close to me is wonderful. He's hardly ever fussy when he's in the sling. He almost always sleeps in there. My hands are free and I don't have to mess with a clunky stroller. (Once he's too big for the sling, I'll resume using the stroller, and on really long hikes, I'll use it too. I'm so happy Liz bought us this stroller and car-seat, I just wish I had a bigger trunk!). The only drawback is I have no stroller to stroll around my heavy-ass diaper bag...which means I have to carry it. ICK.

Not only is the sling convenient and comfy for us both, but he's so adorable in it! Dayton Ohio is not a really hippie-dippy kind of place. Not many people have seen slings here, so we get looks everywhere we go. Men, women, children all stop us to smile and tell me how adorable he is, and of course, he is adorable. ;-) YES, we get far more compliments in the sling than we do in the stroller. One of the joys of having a handsome child is showing him off. What can I say, this kid is darling.

Chris uses our baby back-pack to tote the little one around...yes, we're Attachment Parents! I didn't even know what that was 6 months ago, so I couldn't say I'd do it or not. Turns out, we do...and we don't really know why. We just enjoy having him close to us, at all times. At this age (14 weeks real, 7 weeks adjusted) they need that.

[http://www.askdrsears.com/html/10/t130300.asp] Of course there's pros and cons to all forms of parenting. We just decided to do what works best for us, and for us, this is it. Maybe it's because he's a preemie and we're extra cautious, maybe we'd been like this if he were full term, we'll never know.

Mom said it best yesterday. She said everyone will offer their opinions and their advice, whether is't wanted or not...but in the end, Chris and I need to do what decide to do. She had her kid, she raised her kid, now it's our turn. She does not agree with the whole breastfeeding, co-sleeping thing necessarily, but she knows it's safe the way we do it, and it's what we want to do. Her thing with the breastfeeding is, it's just too much work for me, and too challenging with all the problems we've had. She'd like my life to be more convenient.

Breastfeeding is not what she'd chose, but she made her choices when she had her baby. It's our baby and we'll raise him how we choose.

William and I have taken going to Church every week. If you read my earlier post on Church, and made it through to the VERY END, you'll understand why. Though I'm not a very religious person, and neither is Chris, we think it's good that William be exposed to some religion. We also decided to have him baptized Catholic. The class is at the end of the month and the ceremony is in September. So far William likes Church just fine. He's very well behaved, because he's slinged, and everyone as always gawks at him. It's 40 minutes a week I get to spend with him, massaging his back and hugging him close, it's just our little routine now.

We'll leave the homeschooling debate for another day.... ;-)

The week in review...June 25 thru July 2, 2010

2010-07-02T17:32:00.008-04:00

This week saw a few cool new things. Most notably was just this morning, when he reached up to his animals for the very first time. He reached and tapped them several times, all while cooing. He then stared at them for a while, before losing interest. Seeing that he's now interested in grabbing for things, I bought him a few baby toys, including his first V-Tech laptop! Okay it's a piece of plastic with lights that looks like a laptop.

When we took him to the pediatrician she said he's 23 inches long and weighs 9 lbs 4 oz. This week he retired his first size New Born onesie:

There's still a few size NB onesies that he fits into but this is the first to go. He's a tad small for his 0-3 but is fitting in them much better. This week we took him to the arboretum for a second time, only this time he was in the sling so he got to see a few things. The weather was not too terrible that day. The hydrangeas were gorgeous!

The breastfeeding has gone pretty much the same. We're supplementing with a Similac Isomil sensitive but his colic still remains. I'm now trying 'baby massage' to see if that helps some. As for the pain I'm suffering, we heard from a lactation consultant that his frenulum may be too short. Our pediatrician wasn't too sure so she's sending us to a ENT next week for further consultation.

It also appears that he's beginning to start teething. We think a little molar is coming up, which is very odd, but even the Dr said that's what it looks like is happening. The little bouts of drooling, EWW, have begun....ugh, not my favorite phase. He's a tad early on this, but of course, teething can occur at any time really.

Today we worked with finger paints for the first time! I put his foot prints on some thank you cards I have to make out. Can you believe we're STILL receiving presents from people? He has everything any baby could possibly need at this point. We're so lucky and thankful to have such generous friends and family in our lives. He adores his new wubbanub frog paci from Mom, he's using it right now as I sit to write this!

Look at my wacky son making funny and adorable faces beneath is over-sized hat....little dude is such a ham at times!

And lastly this week William finally met Marlene and her daughter Makenna, who changed her first diaper ever! She did a great job. She even undressed and dressed him too! That's more than I did at five...hell I was 36 first time I did any of that! :-)

Marlene is my most 'kiddy' friend, I know she never thought she'd live to see the day I had a kid. Well, it has been a long time coming.

Today I took some pictures of little man out in the sun...since little ones can't use sunscreen we have to be careful. I snapped those pictures in about a minute flat. Can you believe it was 54 degrees outside? In JULY?! Wow!

I wonder what next week will bring...