Guest Blogger: "I am Not the Kind of Person to Sit Around Waiting for a Baby to Come"

Last week on the blog I shared the exciting news that my sister, Camille, had given birth to her baby daughter, Oakley, in a city hall parking lot. Several people asked, "How does that happen?!" Well, my friends, I am here to deliver. No, not a baby, but the amazing story as written by Camille herself, my guest blogger today. (And by the way, never mind that she went and gave birth by herself in a parking lot. I'm more in awe of her actually getting the birth story written down in only a week from the birth date! I still haven't written Baby Cee's birth story down and she's a "mere" 16 months. Sheesh!) Without further adieu, Oakley's incredible birth story...


I woke at 4:17 am with some contractions. They were not bad at all but got me excited so I laid in bed timing the contractions at 8-10 minutes apart. Around 4:45 I got up and did some laundry. I finished packing the bags, got ready for the day, plugged in the camera, video camera, and my cell phone… meanwhile tracking my contractions with the iPad at around 6 minutes apart. I had arranged with Christy (sister in law) to tape the birth so I texted her and she was ready to go at the drop of a hat. When I had Micah, I started contracting at 4:45 am and lost my plug around 7:00 am I was waiting for my plug to come before I got too concerned about heading up to the hospital.

By 8:30 the contractions were consistent. I was busy around the house and would yell to Tyler “START!” and he was clocking them at 2-6 minutes apart. I called Dr. Clifford (who was on vacation) to tell him but felt ridiculous because as soon as I hung up the contractions came to a dead stop and he was in Yellowstone so it wasn’t like he could have done anything anyway. Christy showed up and still no contractions.

We (Christy, Tyler and I) took Micah to daycare then headed to some stores to get supplies for our mutual activity that night. I figured the walking would help get the contractions going again. Still nothing. I asked Tyler to take me to work so I could finish up some stuff I had been working on the day before. He asked if I wanted him to stay with me but I didn’t because I already felt like him and Christy had been following me around like I was on suicide watch or something.

My boss had us employees come in for a powwow since we figured the baby was coming soon. I ended up stepping out of that meeting a couple of times to have contractions out in the hall. I would step out, stand in the hall feet shoulder width apart, and rock. Breathing in for three rocks, breathing out for three rocks. The contraction would end and I would step back into the meeting. A couple times I was mid sentence and I would just stop turn and go into the hall. I wasn’t timing them so I wasn’t aware of how close they were coming.

My biggest fear always has been and always will be, that I will be that woman who comes running into the hospital yelling, "I’m in labor! This baby is coming! Why isn’t anyone doing anything?!" Then they will check me, lean around my stirrupped spread legs and say, “Mrs. Gilbert, you are at a one. We are just going to have you head home for a bit, you poor excuse for a child bearing woman, and try to walk around till you get a little…or a lot more dilated. Alrighty mmm hm okay?” *snap off gloves* Due to this fear I tell myself, "It’s got to get worse, suck it up woman, you are not going in yet, your baby will be prettier if you wait three more contractions." You know, encouraging things like that. Anyway…

Tyler asked if I wanted to come to lunch with him, Christy, and Travis. I told him that the contractions were starting to make me sick to my stomach so I didn’t want to go eat and be contracting in a restaurant. As soon as I said “Just go without me and come get me when you are done” the contractions seemed to step it up a notch. I would rock and dig my finger tips into the small of my back to relieve some of the pressure.

I got scared at this point. I had gone through a lot of mental preparation to have this baby natural and pain free but these were hurting and I felt like I was losing focus. I was tired because I had been up since 4 and I started to get weak and think about how easy it would be to get the epidural. I had to remind myself that my discomfort was worth it to give this little girl a drug free entrance into this world.

I texted Tyler again asking him to come get me ASAP. When he got there, the contractions were really painful and coming every few minutes in fact I got in the car then got right back out again to have a contraction. While I was contracting, Erin (my sister) called. So just as a point of reference, I work at Gateway Financial on the corner of Cedar and Pole Line. I started talking to Erin while Tyler headed down Pole Line to Tammy’s house to drop Travis off. We got out of the parking lot and I started explaining to Erin that I had not lost my plug yet so I must not be that dilated. She told me that not everyone loses their plug in one big mass. Good thing I have sisters to educate me.

We had only gone one block when I started another contraction so I got off the phone with her as Tyler pulled into the V1 propane on the corner of Pole Line and Alameda. I finished the contraction then straightened up. I heard a popping noise and water came gushing down my leg. I felt her drop down and her head hit my pelvis.

I said, “My water just broke this baby is coming NOW! We need to go to the hospital!” Tyler said, “Travis can you walk the rest of the way?” Travis jumped out and I think was more than willing to get out of the situation. Ha ha! I kneeled on the front passenger seat facing backward. Tyler pulled out of the parking lot and headed down Alameda. Before we even reached the grade school I felt another contraction and I felt her head pushing down between my legs. I said “Tyler her head is RIGHT there!” I felt him speed up.

Another contraction, I put my hand between my legs and encouraged her head NOT to come out. When a contraction came, I would bury my head in the head rest try to will her not to come. Christy said she thinks I bit the headrest at one point. Ha ha! When I was not contracting I was planning and thinking about how best to deal with the situation. I could feel Tyler swerving around cars and hear him talking about lights being red. I was hugging the head rest and thinking about what will happen when we get to the hospital because there is no way I will be able to stand up.

The contractions were coming fast and I was trying to resist the urge to push but at a certain point your body takes over and does what it needs to do in order to accomplish the goal. Another contraction, the fact is made know to me that in the next contraction her head is coming out. I told Tyler, “You’ve got to pull over this baby is coming out and I need your help.”

Tyler told Christy to call 911 and she was right on it. I pulled my shorts down around my knees and put my hand between my legs in time to feel her head come out. Tyler got into a parking spot and I said, “I have her head in my hand” He ran around the car and ripped open the door as I heard Christy giving the address to the 911 operator. I thought to myself “How on earth did Christy just KNOW the address of where we are!?” Then my thoughts were ripped back to the situation at hand…or literally, IN hand.

Christy was instructed to give the phone to Tyler so the operator could talk Tyler through the delivery but when Tyler saw her head and the rest of her body coming out he threw the phone back and said, “I can’t talk right now, she’s coming!” Then with my hand on her head and Tyler’s hands on her body with one last contraction she made her grand entrance.

Labor and Delivery gown

I grabbed her from between my legs and pulled her up to my stomach but didn’t want to pull too tight on the umbilical cord. Her body was limp and her head flopped onto my arm. I started stroking my thumb and finger down the sides of her nose to clear her nose of fluid. I heard Christy talking about not having a towel to wrap her in but then she threw me the labor and delivery gown I had sewn. I wrapped her up as best I could then started rubbing her back to stimulate her to cry. I told her what a good girl she was and asked her to give me a good cry. I got a few good squeals out of her when Lieutenant Scott Marchand and Officer Jordan Johnson came up to the car. They asked me my name and how we were doing. I was still in disbelief so I just said, “We are doing great!”

They had me hold onto her until the ambulance and paramedics arrived minutes later. I just rubbed her, stroked her nose, and tried to keep her warm. It was such a beautiful thing to be able to be the very first person to touch her, to hold her. Mine was the first voice she heard and I wasn’t screaming or swearing or telling Tyler this was all his fault. Tyler and I were there as husband and wife with the newest member of our family. We had done it together and grown stronger as a couple because of that. He trusted me to listen to my body and I trusted him to not wreck while speeding and running red lights and I trusted him to catch her.

Christy had started recording by this point. I was having placenta contractions but otherwise felt really really good. The paramedics clamped the cord and had Tyler come around and cut it. I looked around at this point and saw around 15 emergency response people standing around the car. Tyler said someone yelled, “Hey you guys are really good at standing around! Why don’t you create a wall over there and give this woman some privacy?” It was then that I saw people holding up a sheet between Yellowstone and me. That was appreciated, but my dignity was all but out the window back at Alameda.

I was able to flip over in the seat so I was laying down. They took my vitals and brought the gurney over. The guy said, “Ok we are going to move you over to the gurney so we can load you into the ambulance.” I didn’t even think about it I just wrapped the towel they had cleaned the baby off with around my waist and got out of the car and over onto the gurney. The paramedics were like, “Well, WE were going to move you over, but that works.”

They buckled me in and said, “So what are we going to name this baby?” I didn’t think about it and just said, “Her name is Oakley”. I heard some approving sounds then I heard clapping. They loaded me into the ambulance and Tyler came in with a phone saying that Officer Marchand insisted on a picture of the baby because he’d been doing this for 28 years and never seen anything like this and everyone was going to be asking if he’d gotten a picture.

Christy drove the CR-V, Tyler sat next to me in the ambulance, and Oakley was at my head in the paramedic’s lap. I felt calm and in control the entire time. At no point did I feel that dreaded sinking feeling of “what if” that people often talk about. I knew that between my preparation to have the least invasive natural birth and the protection of the Lord that we had done fine and we were going to be fine. I am sure the adrenaline flowing through my veins like cocaine was also helpful in this euphoric feeling.

We arrived at the hospital where they asked how we were doing and decided to bypass the ER because everyone seemed to be good so we headed straight up to labor and delivery. On Monday night Tyler and I had come to the hospital to attend a maternity social. The class was instruction on where to come into the hospital when you were in labor, how to check in, they showed us the rooms we would be in, etc. Needless to say, that was NOT the route we took to get to labor and delivery. Ha ha!

Since Dr. Clifford was out of town, Dr. Burton was the on call doctor for the office. He arrived--a bit flustered it seemed--but soon settled into routine and was joking around as he assessed the situation. They announced Oakley’s birth weight as 7 pounds, 13 ounces and birth length 20 inches. I asked her to repeat herself because if I had heard correctly she was more than a pound lighter than Micah and 2 inches shorter. I hadn’t expected that.

I still had to deliver the placenta and was more then ready to get that process started. Dr. Burton was allowing the resident OB to do this until he saw how much pain this inexperienced student was putting me through. I think the resident was used to working with women who had had epidurals and had no feeling below the waist. I could definitely feel each harsh aggressive movement as he pushed and poked and even dug to get the placenta out. Finally Dr. Burton took pity on me and took over. Within minutes he told me to give a big "heave ho!" and we got it out. Then he sewed me up. I didn’t tear as bad as I did with Micah but there was still some reconstructive work to do. While they were sewing me up someone said, “Did we happen to get a time of birth for this baby?” Uh…no. We looked at what time we called 911...1:14 and added five minutes to that. Time of birth: 1:19 pm.

The nurse brought Oakley over and said her temperature was a little low and they wanted to do skin to skin to get her warmed up. I looked down to take my shirt off and realized what a mess it was. One of my favorite maternity shirts and it was covered in blood and birth. I took it off and realized, Oh my gosh! Our car! The seat! This warm day…heating up the car! Oh yuck! I started talking about it and the nurse said, “Now don’t you worry about that. You have this little baby and she is perfect. Just worry about that later.”

A nurse came in and said she had a funny story for me. She had been down in the ER when a patient said to her, “Did a woman just have her baby in the City Hall parking lot?” The nurse said she hadn’t heard anything about it at that point. Just after that they received the call that the ambulance was headed in with a mom and baby that was delivered in the City Hall parking lot. The nurse went back to the patient and asked how he’d known about it. The guy said someone heard it over the police scanner and posted it up on this Internet news site, then it sent him as a notification on his phone of the most up to date news. The nurse thought it was pretty funny but I was just in shock. It is odd how quickly my personal life can travel without me knowing or having a say.

Tyler came and told me he’d just gotten off the phone with Mom and she sounded like she was on the verge of tears. I guess she had texted me and stopped by the office and couldn’t find me. Then within minutes, she received a text from Tyler saying "we’d had the baby, mom and baby were fine, baby born in car". Ha ha! Needless to say, Mom was a little concerned. She came into the room minutes later and started to cry. She came to my bedside and said, “Don‘t do that to me!” It was good to have her there. In surreal situations, mom always seems to ground me and bring me back to Earth.

She asked if we had settled on "Oakley" and I said, “Yep, 'Oakley Deena'.” I don’t think we had told Mom we were thinking about naming our daughter after her so she started to cry again and was waving her hand in front of her face like she was swatting flies. I heard Tyler talking to Christy and asked what was up. Apparently his mom and Nicole did not believe that Oakley had been born in the car. Tyler was trying to convince them.

We were told we had some visitors and in walked Officer Marchand and Officer Johnson! They said they had just come to see how things were going and make sure we were good. He said there was already an email going around telling the story. He complimented me on how calm I had been and talked about how so much bad stuff happens in his job it is really nice to see something good happen. He told us that someone back at the office told him to let us know they thought we should name the baby "Justice". Good thought…but not gonna happen.

We took some pictures with them and let them hold the baby. I asked if either of them had known Officer Dan Gilbert. Officer Marchand said he had worked with him for a while. I pointed to Tyler and said, "This is his son." Officer Marchand held Oakley up and with a bit of emotion said, “So, this is Dan’s baby granddaughter.” I looked over at Mom and all the sudden she was "swatting flies" left and right!

The Portneuf PR lady came into the room and said, “Well, news travels fast! Now this is totally up to you and my job is to support your decision and help protect you if need be. I have four news sources that would like to come get your story.” I just laughed out loud and thought, Wow it must be a slow news day for Pocatello. Tyler and I agreed to have them come around 4 pm. Mom ran to get Micah from daycare and I ate some lunch.

Photography by Idaho State Journal

At 4 pm, in came two video cameras, a digital camera, and a recorder. They got the spelling of our names and gave us some instructions then continued on with the interview. It was all rather odd and I worried the entire time that I would say something dumb and they would edit it so I looked like a dumb white trash woman who was too foolish to realize she was in labor so she decided to head to the liquor store by the police station before she headed into the hospital.

After the interview we all just sat in the room for a while soaking everything in. Then we moved to recovery, Room 226. I looked at my phone and had eight texts from different people asking what was going on and what happened. Including one from Dr. Clifford that said, “You bad girl!” I had to call Kay to let her know I had gotten the stuff for the Young Women's activity but she said they were probably just going to head up to the hospital to see us. Natalie Houghton (a friend from the ward) stopped by. I made some other phone calls to family. Travis came, then Tammy and Shayla. While they were there, Dad came.

Nursery stopped in to get her for a bath so Tyler and I kicked everyone out and went to watch. Her short dark hair turned into long light hair! So, so much hair! The young women came and gave me a blanket they had tied. When they left I ate dinner. Rachel Thomas came around nine. We watched the news story then visited til ten. The nursery came to take her away for her hearing test and said they would keep her until she woke to eat. Tyler headed home.

Alone…Alone for the first time in what felt like eternity! I was so tired yet the second I rolled over to sleep the day started reeling though my head and I was wide awake. I laid there for what seemed like forever but was only about a half hour and I fell asleep.

The whole day was crazy. Looking back now, I realize those contractions that I was suffering in silence in the hall at work, that were making me sick, that was transition labor. I realize now, that my body doesn’t do "false labor". It may take a break but it isn’t giving up. I realize that not all laboring is the same, even in the same woman. I realize that with my next baby, when I feel pain in my back, I am having am likely having a baby within six hours. I realize that some people really think me foolish for even going in to work when I was feeling contractions, but they had stopped and I am not the kind of person to sit around waiting for a baby to come. I have things to do.

Of all the things I have come to realize, this is what I realize the most: Women have been having babies for centuries. It is the most natural trauma we can put our bodies through. Our female structures KNOW how to deal with a four, seven, or ten pound ball coming out of a once very small opening. If we just relax and have faith in the strength that we have within us, it will happen. You just do what needs to be done.



Your Daily Dose of Vitamin Cee

I know she's mine and that makes me rather partial, but seriously...Isn't she adorable?!

This really has to be the golden age of parenting. Or at least one of countless golden ages of parenting.

Ahhh.

The Proper Protocol for Purchasing Pregnancy Tests

As of late, my little newborn Cee has developed a picky palate when it comes to nursing.

(Really? Breastfeeding again?!)

(Yep. Really. That's twice in one week. I really need to get out more.)

She's started to squirm and wriggle and even pull away crying when I have tried to nurse her lately.

Uh oh.

When my mom was nursing me when I was two months old, I started to do the same thing.

Wanna know why?

Because my mom was pregnant with my little sister. (We are eleven months apart. Good grief. Could you even imagine???)

Since history tends to repeat itself...I rationally and calmly began to totally freak out. One thing you need to know about me...I like to jump to the worst conclusion possible first. That way I know I will be prepared for anything.

Well, I guess I'm not prepared for ANYTHING. I don't exactly stock up on home pregnancy tests.

Needing to put my tortured mind at ease, I started to plan my trip to the store to purchase a home pregnancy test.

And yes. I did use the word “plan”.

A woman in my position does not take buying a pregnancy test lightly. There is some policy and procedure to be followed in purchasing pregnancy tests.

Allow me to enlighten you on this protocol.

A woman in my situation, that situation being a mother of four children, ranging from ages six years old to newborn, cannot simply dash to the store wearing her pajamas, with four snotty nosed kids in tow, grab a handful of cheap pregnancy tests, and dash back home again. There are details to be attended to in order to avoid The Checkout of Shame.

Firstly, whatever you do, DON’T take the four kids to the store with you. Especially the newborn. No need to send everyone in a panic that you and your husband are single-handedly repopulating the planet. That or deal with the whispering gossip about you-know-who can’t keep their pants on. The resulting embarrassment could just be too much to handle.

If you simply can’t avoid taking your entourage to the store, at least try to convince people you’re the nanny, fun aunt, or helpful friend. It probably won’t work, but it’s worth a shot.

If you do take the kids, make sure they are dressed to the nines, hair combed and styled, and have clean hands and faces. Be absolutely certain they will not misbehave in the store, therefore drawing unwanted attention to you as you peruse the family planning aisle of the store.

Carry tissues with you to catch any stray boogers. If you have to bring the kids and people are clever enough to see the family resemblance, at least people will assume you are Supermom, that you have it all put together, and that a fifth baby will only be a piece of cake instead of just another piece of welfare woe.

It’s not just the children who need to look squeaky clean.

Put some pants on, Mama. And not your stretchy ones or that pair of jeans stained with newborn baby poop and spit up. And don't even think about sneaking on the maternity pants. You raise your arms and that panel is a dead give away.

Take a shower. Dress up. Do your hair. And for heaven’s sake slap some makeup on. We are going for classy here. Not out-of-control, rabbit-breeding freak.

Once you are at the store, looking more like a civilized human being than you normally do, and have decided on which pregnancy test you are going to purchase, take the pregnancy test and stash it in the bottom of your grocery cart. This will prevent judgmental looks from other shoppers. At least until you get to the checkout stand.

Even if you don’t need a single other thing than the pregnancy test, grab a few other items to purchase along with your pregnancy test. This will create the outward appearance of nonchalance about pregnancy.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. What’s it to you?”

If you drop a single pregnancy test on the checkout counter and nothing else, you know what people are going to assume. By purchasing other items along with your at home pregnancy test, you might be able to avoid the critical stares from the cashier and nearby shoppers.

Word to the wise: Maybe avoid items like duct tape, toilet snakes, two or more boxes of diapers, and condoms.

Finally, make sure that all your movements are slow and deliberate. Don’t rush. Don’t look flustered or sweaty or out of control. Don’t let them see the fear in your eyes.

Good. Now that you have purchased your pregnancy test and are safely back at home, take pregnancy test. Never mind the toddler banging on the door and the newborn wailing from her car seat. We've got priorities. We need to KNOW if you've got plans to claim TWO new dependents for the year 2011.

What does it say???

A
.
.
.
.
.
.
big
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
fat
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
NEGATIVE!

Whew.

So does this mean I'm not allowed to wear my maternity pants anymore???

breastfreading

If you spend much time in the blogosphere, you catch on to a universal blogging truth pretty quickly.

Bloggers love comments.

Comments equal love, validation, care, concern, friendship, time well spent.

I know this to be true because I blog. I lovecraveneed comments as much as the next blogger.

I also understand the addendum to the previously stated blogging truth.

You scratch my back, I scratch yours.

Translation: I took the time to hang out at your little piece of the blogosphere by reading and commenting. Why not come on over to my place and return the favor?

If you are guilty of being a comment hog and not reciprocating the love, you could be seen as a bit of cold blogger. Shame, shame.

I get this. I love the comments. I love to reciprocate the love. And I would do so more often, except I have a little problem.

Meet my new laptop accessory, aka "a little problem".




Sure, sure. This 3 month old model is pretty sweet looking, but don't let it fool you. It hardly increases my blog commenting productivity. If anything, it hinders it. And as my laptop accessory grows in size and squirminess, it's becoming increasingly more difficult to even leave simple, little, one-liner comments.

But I'm still reading.

I've been wracking my brain trying to think of some kind of code word I could leave at the end of a post, something to the effect of "Hey! I was here, reading, and catching up with you and I would love to say something witty and sincere but can't since I am currently breast feeding as I read this and by the time I am done either reading or breast feeding I won't remember what wickedly funny or really insightful thing I wanted to say but hey I love you anyway!"

I tried to make an acronym out of it, but HIWHRACUWYAIWLTSSWASBCSIACBFAIRTABTTIADEROBFIWRWWFORITIWTSBHILYA just didn't have much of a ring to it.

Maybe after I read a post I could just type "breastfreading".

Get it?

Breast feeding + reading

Clever, right?

I know! I got lots more where that came from! I'm just not sure how to get it out there with my lap and hands so preoccupied.

Any suggestions???

I Have Cute Kids

(Dee, Jeigh, cousin, Elle)

How "cute" you ask?

Or maybe you didn't ask, but lucky you, I'm going to tell you anyway.

Did you take a gander up at my blog header??? That's pretty darn tootin' cute, wouldn't you agree? It makes me smile so big that I can hardly see that all my little clouds are filled now. (A big thank you to my sister Erin for adding Cee!)

My heart is full.

Almost as full as my king-sized bed every morning.



(Tell me again why we even bought beds for the kids?)

Cee is two and a half months old now. She makes me drool. Like physically drool when I look at her gorgeous sparkling blue eyes peeking out from rows of dark thick eyelashes.



I blame her dad for those beautiful long lashes. And the receding hair line.

Tell me...Is it strange that I drool over her?

Not only that but also that I have to fight the urge to nibble on her a bit? I want to literally chomp down on her chubby cheeks and thighs.

All I can figure is this must be some urge leftover from my cave woman roots. That or someone ought to call CPS.

I find myself constantly emotional watching this little girl grow up right before my eyes. My newborn is rapidly disappearing and I can't seem to soak her in quick enough.

Pictures do no justice. A flat two dimensional piece of paper will never remind me how delicious she smells or how sweet the sounds of her coos are to my ears. I am bound to forget how funny her face is with shock when her fist flies up and pops her smack dab in between the eyes. She is already getting too long to perch on my shoulder in a little curled up ball of heavy and warm comfort anymore.

Bittersweet.

A newborn growing up is such a mixed bag of emotions. Sad to watch the sweet and brand-new go, but thrilled to see the growth and progression come.

We mommies are never quite content with the present.

{sigh}

I do have three other kids too. They seem to share Cee's total disregard for my commands to stop growing up so fast too.

The very day I verbalized this to Dee, we discovered he had his first loose tooth. How exciting and sad, all in the same moment. (By the way, what's the going rate for the Tooth Fairy these days?)

We just enrolled Dee in piano a couple of weeks ago. I already mentioned how discouraging the first practice was, but after the promise of a lunch out with Mommy he rallied his best efforts together and gave his first week of piano practice a first rate go. The lunch date was delivered and he seems to be sold on piano practice now.

I keep waiting for him to realize he could probably weasel more lunch dates out of me if he complained about practicing again, but so far so good. He really is such a good boy who tries so hard to please. I love my little son.

Dee and Jeigh both are getting ready to start their first season of soccer.



That's right! I'm officially a soccer mom! Oh boy.

The other day I walked into a room where the kids were all playing.

Dee: Mom! Jeigh told me a lie!

Me: She did? About what?

Dee: She said there was a chicken in the road. I looked. There's no chicken in the road.

Jeigh: I was telling a joke!


See? Cute!

Oh and Elle?



I didn't forget about her.

Just about everything that comes out of that girl's mouth makes us laugh.

"You straight trippin' Mama!" is Joe's personal favorite.

Mine has to be "I love you, Mama!" usually accompanied by a tender little hug and a very juicy kiss.

So cute, I could cry.

My Little...Pirate? Nothing says scurvy dog pirate like a cute little pink haired pony.

That's-Not-My-Kid Thursday

My poor little pathetic meme.

It just hasn't inspired the raging following. In fact only about one loyal follower (LISA!) has played along so far. I think the rest of you just come on over to the Silver Lining on That's-Not-My-Kid Thursdays to read my mortifying mommy moments and laugh. Laugh WITH me no doubt.

I think from here on out I'll drop the link up part of it and just use it for my own devices. Feel free to come on over and read my embarrassing kid stories and laugh WITH me...or AT me. If you would like to write your own That's-Not-My-Kid Thursday post, leave a comment with your address below and I will gladly hop on over and laugh at WITH you.

Onto the mortifying mommy moment...

Since even before Cee arrived, my six year old son Dee has been absolutely enthralled with the concept of breastfeeding. You could make all sorts of cracks about Freud or the male gender and its early fascination with the feminine personage, but I think his curious six year old mind is simply that...curious.

He has been asking all sorts of questions about how, where, why the baby eats and "what are those things for"? I subscribe to the honesty-is-the-best-policy policy and try to matter-of-factly explain how breastfeeding works to my son.

Only problem is...I kind of forgot to also explain how its not exactly mixed company conversation.

The week before we left Nevada I was at the school picking up Dee from kindergarten. When his teacher saw me she busted out laughing and said, "I have to tell you what Dee said today!"

Apparently my son educated his entire kindergarten class on just how breastfeeding works. Quite loudly too according to his teacher.

I haven't gotten any phone calls from incensed parents yet. Moving away has its advantages.

Insert Clever Title Here

I miss blogging. I miss my blogging buddies.

I want, nay, NEED to blog.

BUT...

I keep waiting for this magical moment when both of my arms are free,

when no one is crying,

when my house is clean...ish and I can sit down with my laptop without feeling guilty,

when no one needs me for soothing, playing, opening, feeding, driving, changing, monitoring, wiping, scolding, SOMEthing,

when I am not thoroughly exhausted to the core,

when my clever function returns,

when I have time to read up on all my bloggy buddies' lives first,

when life just calms down for fifteen bloody minutes.


Meh.

Ain't gonna happen.


So. Here it is in a very hasty and gnarled up nutshell:

We got sick.
We got more sick.
We packed up the house.
We moved.
We unpacked the house.
We settled a bit.
We sent Joe off today to Tucson for a week long business trip.
We are still trying to shake all of the sick.
We are adjusting to our new life as Utahans.
We...make that ME...are struggling to get back into the swing of things many days.
We are very humbled and grateful for all that has taken place in the last month.

Oh...

And did I mention that in the midst of all that...

We had a baby?



Meet Lucy Ellen P. (here on out to be referred to as "Cee" in Blog-land)

Sorry Sami, but Joe exercised his husbandly and fatherly rights and vetoed "Agnes". :(

After 20 freakishly long hours of labor,
Born Thursday, January 20, 2011.
8.4 lbs and 20.5 inches

Lots of black hair.
Refuses to suck on a pacifier.
Smiled from the beginning.
Resides semi-permanently curled up on Mommy's chest.
Loved in abundance.

Birth story to follow.

I hope.

Oh all right. If you insist. Here's a few more pictures of baby.

"What...just...happened?!"


Joe + Evelyn = beautiful baby (Biased much??)

There's just something completely irresistable about baby toes...

It Happens in Threes, Right??? Or is that Three HUNDRED?

Since I last posted, a few things have happened...

My four year old Jeigh also contracted pink eye, bringing the pink eye totality up to 3 pairs of little goopy, red, leaky eyes.

I have been giving her eye drops left over from the other two kids, but as her eyes have suddenly gotten worse on the third day of drops, I am beginning to wonder if she is allergic to sulfa meds.

My body which has been steadily fighting off viral junk since Christmas gave up and gave in to the funk yesterday morning.

I was tested for H1N1 today and failed...in a good way! Whew! What I have is just some rotten virus that needs time to work itself out.

I cough. Therefore I pee. Ugh.

I developed laryngitis along with the nasty viral crud. No voice? No problem. Maybe I'll give labor and delivery the ol' Scientologist try, eh? Eat your heart out, Tom Cruise.

I caught my dear sweet husband swiping some of my Tylonel and cough drops tonight. He won't admit he's feeling under the weather, but I think I can count on one hand how many times I have seen him take pills. I sure love my tough guy.

Joe's dad goes in for surgery tomorrow morning. If the surgery takes a long time, it is a good thing meaning they are finding the problem and fixing it. If it's short, it means they are giving up for now and letting time take its toll for a bit before trying again.

Last night, I couldn't take it anymore. My emotional and physical reserves ran out and I broke down.

Why???

I'm afraid I can't help but ask... Why is all of this happening all at the same time at this time in our life?

It is just unreal how each day brings new chaos and craziness. I'm getting a little embarrassed to even tell people how things are going as of late. It's just too unbelievable. Maybe that's why I have lost my voice. Time to suffer in silence.

I still believe we will get through all this and be the stronger for it. But good heavens! When is enough "enough"?

P.S. And who gave that sidebar permission to congratulate me? Guess Baby #4 didn't get the memo that today was her due date. I imagine she's trying to hide out as long as possible. I don't blame her; who would want to be born in the midst of all this? I am beginning to think that sitting in a hospital in labor and delivery will be a welcome respite from life as it currently is.

P.P.S. Again, I'm not searching for sympathy. I just need to get all this recorded because it is so unbelievable that I don't know if I will believe it myself in a few weeks when {HOPEFULLY} things have leveled out again.

The Girl Who Cried "PIG!" Learns to Shut Her Fat Mouth

Warning: This post is most likely contagious. If you intend to read on first grab a mask, a bottle of hand sanitizer, and a handful of Vitamin C. Oh, and have you had your flu shot?

I didn't. And neither did my kiddos. For three reasons.

Reason #1: Sometimes I think flu shots are just the result of dirty rotten propaganda spread by money-grubbing pharmaceutical companies.

Reason #2: I think as a society we have become a little overly occupied about germs. I can't help but laugh at the moms who trail behind their kids at the park spraying them down with hand sanitizer any time they plop off a slide or swing. Ridiculous.

Reason #3: Apparently Northern Nevada is so remote they kind of forgot to send any flu vaccinations this way. In spite of Reason #1 and #2, being the good mom I am I asked our doctor about getting my pregnant self, my asthmatic son, and two girls vaccinated only to be told "Sorry. We don't have any".

No big deal. We'll live.

Then January came. Now I'm wondering.

Earlier this week I found myself asking audibly to no one in particular "What else can go wrong?!" I've learned my lesson. I'm not asking anymore because I keep getting answered.

Shutting. Mouth. Now.

It all began last week with Dee having the nastiest case of pink eye I have ever seen.

Hold up! It started earlier than that...

Ten months ago my husband and I...put an order in with the stork and were blessed with a "response".

At the same time the "response" was making its presence known on a little home pregnancy test, we found ourselves separated by over 700 miles. Joe was in Nevada beginning a new job and finding us a home in our new town and me in Arizona packing up our entire household whilst trying to keep three--make that four now--children alive. The move was hard and long and stressful, but completed semi-successfully.

Fast forward seven months and we discover we are moving again. Sure the timing is insane with a baby due anytime, but we're tough! We can do this! Bring it.

And oh my. Has it ever been BBBBB-ROUGHT!

Dee had nasty yucky pink eye last week.

Our medical insurance ended up not covering nearly as much as we thought it would for this baby. Bummer.

Then we found out Joe's dad was going in for a simple in-and-out gallbladder removal. What was supposed to be "simple" and "in-and-out" has turned into a daily saga of surgery and suspense. His dad ended up being cut open to have the offending gallbladder removed, only to have someone stick a staple in a wrong place, damaging something important and causing liver issues. After several other procedures and a surgery or two (to be honest, I'm beginning to lose track) he was ambulated to a different hospital in Utah where hopefully no one else can screw anything up and they can piece Joe's dad back together again. Hearing the words "possible liver transplant" makes one slightly nervous.

Our one and only personal computer suffered a toddler takedown. The withdrawal shakes are just beginning to die down. I have missed my bloggy buddies! And did you realize how often we use the internet to look up the littlest things? And in the middle of a move when I am trying to find a house, the new school system, church, utility options, etc. Wow.

Really, it has been a mixed blessing that the computer has been out of commission. My hands have been completely full with sick kiddos. Four nights ago I put Elle to bed as a perfectly happy and healthy two year old. Within four hours she crept into our bed feverish and coughing that nasty croupy cough. Croup? Again?! Ugh. Okay. The baby may be due in a week and we are moving a week after that, but I can handle croup. It's just a wait-it-out kind of thing. Right?

As the days stretched on and her fever and cough worsened, my mommy instincts prickled. To the doctor's office we went where we found out Elle has the H1N1 virus. Yep. Make that swine flu. Awesome.

Not even the doctor would touch her. Fortunately he at least stayed in the room long enough to write out a prescription for her and the other two kids in hopes of preventing further spreading of swiny sickness. Then he high-tailed it out of there as quick as possible. Real comforting Doc.

He even had the gall to tell me to avoid contact with Elle so as to keep myself healthy. He tells me this as my poor little zombie daughter is laying curled around my belly and shoulders. Stay away from my sick baby??? Obviously he has never been a mom.

We like to share in our family. Especially germs. Four year old Jeigh was next. Fortunately she isn't quite as bad as Elle. And Elle is bad. I feel like I may literally explode every now and then from the sheer fear and exhaustion that comes from holding a feverish, gasping toddler through four subsequent sleepless nights.

Dee's sixth birthday was yesterday and I'm afraid the sleeplessness and stress has left Mommy in less than a celebratory mood. His little birthday, which he has been so excited for this year more than any other year, has taken a back seat to sick sisters. I know he will get over it, but it makes me sad to not be free to make his special day a big deal.

In the midst of all this, there is a sweet little baby taking refuge in my belly threatening to come any day. Two weeks ago, as her due date crept closer and closer, I was mildly irritated that she wasn't making her glorious appearance in a timely manner giving me time to recover for our move. Now I feel relief for each day that passes with her still safely tucked inside. She can stay in there as long as she wants!

Well...that's not totally true. If she doesn't come on her own by Wednesday the 19th, I am scheduled for a "two-day induction" (doesn't that sound positively gruesome?). The induction is a heartbreaking event in and of itself for me, but that's a different post for a different day.

As sickness and stress has swirled around us, I have begun to laugh, hysterically sometimes. I mean REALLY! What ELSE can go wrong?!?

When I looked into Elle's goopy, red, teary eyes last night and realized she had pink eye on top of H1N1...

I'm not asking anymore. I'm not even giving the fates a chance to grasp onto anything.

Anyone actually still reading my novel here? You mean you haven't exited as hastily as possible in hopes of saving yourselves?

I know this is a long drawn out post of woe. It probably appears that I am whining. Maybe I am a little, but the reason I write this post (on Joe's work computer no less) is first of all for posterity's sake. You can't make this stuff up.

Also, I KNOW that we will make it through this very troubled time. And then we will look back on this and laugh and laugh and laugh, maybe with less hysteria and more relief.

I hope we realize that because we were able to make it through this, we can do other hard things that will most definitely come in our lives. And I hope that we can be grateful for the good things that have happened in this time.

Things like the baby NOT coming in the midst of the disease and distress.

Things like my family showing love, faith, and support with prayers, fasting, and phone calls.

Things like friends lending sympathetic ears and shoulders.

Things like meals from church members.

Things like Dee, who tends to be the sickest out of the kids, staying healthy thus far {fingers crossed}.

Things like being able to laugh, even if it is hysterically, instead of cry at everything.

Things like sweet little toddlers who cuddle even more and are extra sweet when they are sick.

Things like helpful little four year olds who think it's fun to play nurse and help Mommy.

Yep. Life is good. Or at least it will be in February.

P.S. I am taking the comments option off of this post. I didn't write this hoping you all would gush over my sorrows and tell me how bad you feel for me. It has been good for me to just get it out and in words. Somehow it makes it slightly more manageable. But if you really want to send bottles of hand sanitizer or better yet chocolate...my address is... ;)

Technical Difficulties

Last week toddler and laptop met.

toddler: 1
laptop: 0

Mommy: -1

The prospects do not look good for my computer. And I don't really have time or funds to deal with its recovery right now. Looks like I may just have to put it out of its misery and move on.

I am feeling quite lost without my fifth appendage. Rather rotten timing to be without the internet too I might add. But when is it ever convenient to be without, right?

I am sorely missing all of you! I want to know what is happening on your blogs and in your lives. And I want you to know what is going on in mine. Fortunately Joe has a work-issued laptop, but I only get to steal a few minutes alone with it after he comes home in the evening. Not long enough to do anything worthwhile. Facebook what?

Please don't take my screen silence as anything other than it is; a blogger, interrupted.

No babies yet. (Hopefully that will happen by this weekend and if it does...I'll find a way to let you know.)

No moving yet. (That's not for another couple of weeks. Fingers crossed we finally found a house!)

No nervous break down yet. (But stay tuned...it's bound to happen. Maybe it's a good thing I am unplugged right now...)

I hope all is well with all of you and that 2011 is starting off in all the best ways!

Until we blog again...

Cloud #4

Every time I peek at my blog (which is often, but unfortunately not with a willpower for wordplay) I can't help but look at that empty little cloud up there on my title picture and wonder...

What will she look like???

I can't wait to meet her! Only two more weeks...ish...

...and that is a very big ish.

Merry Christmas Mary

This will be the second Christmas I will spend 8 and 1/2 months pregnant. (You would think I would have learned by now.)

Needless to say, my thoughts turn to one particular person who is vital to the Christmas Story.

I can't even picture getting my leg over a donkey's back in my current swollen and sore state, much less riding one for days on end.

I am worried about the small-town hospital here being "good enough" for my encroaching labor and delivery. A stable??? A stable. Complete with hay, animals, cold, and poop.

I get anxious thinking about the pain of labor. I will have nurses and doctors attending my birth with medications and interventions on hand, "just in case". I wonder if Mary even felt the irritating scratch of the hay beneath her as she labored and delivered alone.

My husband will calmly and lovingly stand by as the professionals take care of everything. All he has to do is cut the cord. Do you think Joseph delivered the baby all by himself that night?


Thinking about capably raising four children causes me to lose sleep. I'm not even anticipating being the one to raise the Son of God.

How did she do it? What were her thoughts? Was she afraid of the task that lay before her or was she chosen because of how gracefully she would accept her heavenly responsibility?


Merry Christmas to you all. In the midst of all the packages, goodies, fun, and chaos may we all remember the true reason for the season.

What the HCG is in There?!

What better way to follow-up a post on number two than with a post guest-starring number one?

I kid. I kid.

No really. I've got a kid in this bloated belly of mine that causes me to dash to the bathroom with number one urges all the time and after a lousy ultrasound experience I am dying to know what-the-hCG is in there. Boy? Girl? Parasitic alien larva??

Eww.

Since I couldn't rely on my doctor to stick around long enough to do his job tell me what gender my baby was, I had to take maternal matters into my own hands. What a perfect opportunity to test out a few gender prediction tests and old wives' tales, eh? I pulled out my dusty rusty high school chemistry and biology skills and set to it.

Here are the results of my embryonic experiments (includes photographic evidence and field notes):

The "Intelligender" Gender Prediction Test
This "patent pending" at home urine test claims to be able to predict your baby's gender accurately. I read reviews on this product awhile ago and they seemed to be less than satisfying, but I just couldn't resist after watching THIS clip from The Doctors.

The price tag was steep enough that I am embarrassed to admit how much I spent on it. $39.95 Desperate times call for desperate measures, people. (Please excuse the pictures of human waste. All in the name of science, my dear Watson.)

Gender according to the Intelligender Gender Prediction Test: GIRL

The Draino Test
My friend Myya clued me in on this one. The idea is to mix urine with Draino and observe the color change. I found the official instructions HERE and I found the discrediting information HERE on Snopes.com. Forget the critics. All frontiers must be explored.


Gender according to the Draino Test: GIRL

The Chinese Calender Prediction Test
I have heard numerous people swear by this test. Go HERE to find the directions. Warning: You must have a college degree to decipher the results of this test as it requires you to configure your Chinese age and Chinese Lunar Conception Month. It's all Greek Chinese to me.

Gender according to the Chinese Calender: GIRL

The Older Sibling's Hairline Test
My friend Brittany told me about this Native American gender prediction test. You observe the hairline of the immediate older sibling of the baby. If the hairline is a V line, the baby will be the opposite gender than the older sibling. If the hairline is a straight line, the baby will be the same gender. Elle is the older sibling in this case. See what a willing participant she is in our research?

Brittany said we needed to look very closely as this test can be easily botched. It was difficult with a squirming, uncooperative toddler, but in my observations I concluded Elle has a V hairline.

Gender according to Older Sibling's Hairline Test: BOY

The Older Sibling's Clinginess Test
An old wives' tale claims that the clinginess of the older sibling during the pregnancy can predict the gender of the next baby. If the older sibling is more clingy than usual, the baby is of the opposite gender than the older sibling. If the older sibling is more independent, the baby is the same gender as the older sibling.

I believe the pictorial evidence below illustrates Elle's current level of clinginess.


Gender according to the Older Sibling's Clinginess Test: BOY

The Previous Pregnancy Past Test
Some say to figure out the gender of your current baby you only have to look so far as your own past. Are you carrying this baby similar to how you carried your previous babies? When I was pregnant with Dee, everyone commented on how huge I was (just what every pregnant lady wants to hear). With both girls, all I heard was how small I was, how you couldn't even tell I was pregnant. (So what you're saying is...I'm fat. Umm...thanks.) In this case, this pregnancy resembles my girls' pregnancies more than it does my son's.

Gender according to Previous Pregnancy Past: GIRL

The Daddy's Instinct Test
So far, Joe has guessed what each of our children's genders were before we ever saw the ultrasound pictures. He just knows.

Gender according to Daddy's Instinct: GIRL

The Mother's Instinct Test
So far, I have been wrong about each of our children. Every single time. Apparently my mother's instinct compass got discombobulated somewhere along the way. If you want to know what the gender is, ask me, listen to what I say I am absolutely sure it is...and think the exact opposite.

Gender according to Mommy's Instinct: I say BOY. So better make that GIRL.

To summarize my official and unquestionable scientific research:

Out of 8 gender prediction tests, tales, and 'tuitions, 6 gender prediction tests predict GIRL and 2 predict BOY

In short, the previously detailed research leads us to the conclusion that a baby girl is in our near future.

P.S. I had another ultrasound today...It's a GIRL! Make of that what you will Intelligender.

That's-Not-My-Kid Thursday

It's been a busy day of laundry and kindergarten class volunteering which doesn't leave much room for blogging. Even still it is Thursday. And you know what that means!

What kind of a mommy week has it been for you? Are you proud to claim your posterity or denying the genetic ties that bind?

As for me, it's been a pretty good week. Short of wanting to auction off one of my kiddos...But besides that, I can't complain. Shocked??

With no juicy stories of embarrassing mommy moments, can I take a different approach for That's-Not-My-Kid Thursday this week?

This little man is not my kid, but I still get to claim a little lot of maternal love and affection.

Meet my newest nephew, Micah Daniel!


Born: Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Weight: 8 lbs 14 oz
Length: 22 inches
Proud parents: Tyler and Camille (my sister)

Lots of dark hair and chub! SO CUTE!! Congratulations on your reunion, little family!

That's not my kid, but I'll take him anyway!

Got a mortified mommy moment of your own? Write a post and leave your link in the comments. Happy Thursday!

Fumbling-to-Find-the-Fun Friday Flop

You wanna know what's fun?: Going "home" for a visit.

You wanna know what's NOT fun?: Going home for a visit because of a funeral.


Fun: Thrift-store shopping!!

Not fun: Guiltily admitting to your husband that you spent $100 at Deseret Industries alone (and trying not to blab about the money spent at the other two thrift stores, antique shop, and fabric store).


Fun: Eating fresh, warm cheese soup from your favorite hometown bakery on the way out of town.

Not fun: Eating the first bite of your fresh, warm cheese soup and then hearing your son who is sitting in the back seat of the van announce that he has just thrown up.

Even more not fun: Watching, frozen in place with shock and disgust, as he continues to empty his stomach of everything he ate over the past three days...all over himself and the back seat of the van you were planning on traveling in for the next five hours.


Fun-ny: Thinking, "How could I tactfully get a picture of this for the blog without my husband being irritated at my need to share everything about my life?".

Not fun-ny: Deciding it wouldn't be worth the marital discord for one nasty shot of your son and backseat covered in puke only to hear your husband suggest an hour later it would have been a "funny" thing to get a picture of.


Fun: Eating fresh corn on the cob from your mom's garden.

Not fun: Realizing it's all gone.


Fun: Getting home after a trip so you can sleep in your own bed and hang out in your underwear again.

Not fun: No longer being able to ignore this...
or this...
or this...


Fun: Rubbing bellies with your pregnant sister.


Not fun: Realizing for the millionth time that you are fatter than your sister even though she is twice as pregnant. (See how cool we are flashing how many months pregnant with our hands.)


Fun: Getting to see your baby on ultrasound.

Not fun: Having a sleepy baby, pushy placenta, and cranky doctor who is "too busy" to take the time to show you the ultrasound or find out if your baby is a he or a she. I may or may not have cried in my car afterwards out of pure frustration and disappointment. I'll never say! Looks like three more weeks of waiting to get to know my little one a little better. {sigh}


Super Fun!!!: Participating in Sami's Quince Quote game at Symmetry in Motion. Go check it out! It's easy to enter and even easier to get sucked into her blog fun/goodness!

Not fun: Realizing I actually knew this movie whereas I didn't know all the chick-flicks she has done in months past.

Super not fun: Not winning, but I'm not too worried about that this time. I've got a good feeling about this one. {fingers crossed}

What's so fun and not fun at your house these days???

The Three-Week Rule

Several years ago I overheard a bit of advice being given. Truly, it was one of the best pieces of advice I have ever heard or probably will ever hear in my lifetime. If I leave behind but one ray of light in this lifetime of mine, I want to spread and share the gospel of this bit of wisdom. Go ahead and engrave it on my headstone please.

I was sitting at a baby shower. My baby shower in fact. A baby shower being given in celebration of the encroaching arrival of my first born in fact. My firstborn who would make his grand appearance less than twenty-four hours after I heard this bit of wisdom in fact. A baby shower that was endured rather than enjoyed due to intensifying contractions...in...fact...

Have you ever tried to appear social, relaxed, and grateful in a large group of women and gifts as you struggle to sit still and not drop to the floor, curled up in a ball of laboring misery? If you have, you know: It's not easy. But somehow I managed. And as I was "managing", gritting my teeth and pretending to enjoy my little party, I somehow also managed to hear and retain the golden wisdom I am about to share.

Are you ready for your life to be changed, for your world to be stopped, for your existence to be altered?

Ready???

"Give it three weeks."

Did you hear the angelic chorus?

That's right. Three weeks. In the particular case that I overheard this, the woman was advising a new mother: Give it three weeks. You'll get the hang of it. Things will get easier. Just give it time. Three weeks to be exact.

And you know what? In the midst of labor and delivery, I forgot about that...

Until...

I found myself a week later, crumpled in a sobbing, hopeless, exhausted heap of postpartum jelly-belly and haggard hormones on my living room floor at 3 am with a wide-awake, screaming, poopy for the umpteenth time newborn. Suddenly, those words came to my mind again.

Give it three weeks.

Okay. I'll try. Three weeks passed. And...I felt better. I had gotten more of a grip on this new mother thing. I didn't have it down perfectly, but I was coping. I was learning. I was assuming the mantle of motherhood with a little more grace and dignity than that sobby little blob I had been two weeks earlier.

As life has gone on, as a second baby has come, then a third, a move here, a move there, a trial, a tiff, a dent, a dam, a world war, a wart or two, a heart-stopping moment, a hungry bank account, a spell of sickness, a spell of sadness... Whatever it has been that has caused me whether physically or mentally to collapse back into my little hopeless mush-ball again...I remember what I heard that night that was poignant enough to reach me through contractions and discomfort...

Give it three weeks.

That and "when it comes to pushing that baby out, give it all you got and just get that dang thing out!" (I remembered that one too. Great advice by the way! I've never had to push longer than 15 minutes! I'm just saying...)