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FIGHTING INSANITYIt's All Downhill From Here
July 03 More About MerrickI know it's dangerous for me to write without having my coffee, so I'll try and make this quick. One day soon, I promise to write about something other than Merrick's head. But for now, here's what I got: Merrick's CAT scan went fine. He miraculously stayed asleep during the whole thing, so he didn't have to be sedated, which was why I was dreading it so much in the first place. That said, the sight of my tiny baby boy inside of that whirling round machine didn't exactly calm me down. But hey, that's cake walk compared to what he'll probably be going through in just a few months.
Caleb talked to our pediatrician Monday to get all our ducks in a row for the CAT scan--it seems I was misled (okay, I blanked) last week when the doctor called us and told us there was only one suture closed--apparently, there are two: the sagittal (?) which goes up the middle of the skull, is definitely fused, and possibly one of the left sutures that I don't know the name of because I blanked again when Caleb was telling me about it. We've been able to feel a ridgeline in the center of his skull since the day he was born, and the back of his head has always been kinda bumpy.
I wasn't really surprised that there might be 2; it would make for a more complicated surgery, and as much as I hate even the thought of that, I hope we have it done soon. I've heard that the younger the kid, the more workable the skull. And I'd rather Merrick have surgery than wind up with eyesight problems, developmental delays, or a face that looks like it was run over by a mack truck. I know kids can be cruel--the nicknames "Klingon" and "Hammerhead" have already crossed my mind, so I figure it's either major surgery now or major therapy later. We still haven't heard back from the doctor about our appointment with the neurosurgeon, but we are staying on them and they are staying on the hospital to get it scheduled.
People ask me "How are you holding up? God, I can't even imagine what you must be feeling right now! How in the world will you handle it all?" And truthfully, I don't know. I bet 5 years from now when everything's all said and done, I still won't really know. My son has a condition that I can't pronounce correctly without having a seizure. I think this is one of those times where you just shut your eyes, hold on tight and come out on the other side. It will all work out.
Besides, Merrick's a tough little guy. He's been bulking up. He's totally got this.
And nothing says bad ass like a baby in a helmet. June 30 Out of itIt's been almost a week since we found out about Merrick's head, and Caleb and I have both gone from numb, to slightly worried, to straight-up freaked out, to calm and rational, to just way too tired to think about it anymore.
I've finally gotten to a point of acceptance and I'm actually feeling a little brave--a little. That said, there hasn't been a single nighttime feeding where I haven't cried while softly stroking his bumpy little head and tearfully whispering gentle words of comfort: "We'll get this shit knocked out for you, little buddy."
I worry about letting my son down. What if he's in pain? What if I make a wrong decision? Mommies and Daddies are supposed to make everything better, and right now I feel so scared and powerless. Hell, I wish my own mom and dad were here to hold my hand and wave their magic wands. How come I didn't get a magic wand?
Cheyenne and Mia have become the best of friends--mainly because Caleb and I are too stressed or tired to be much fun right now, and Mia heads straight for big sister's room when she wants to be entertained--which is all the time. Cheyenne doesn't seem to mind--normally I'd be concerned about her feelings as to whether or not she wants Mia all up in her face 24/7, but lately I figure if it bothered her very much, she'd be whining by now. So I let it ride.
We've all gotten into the bad habit of going to bed at midnight and waking up at 10:00 a.m. or later. I wouldn't mind sleeping until 4:00 in the afternoon, but then I wouldn't have time to go buy everyone new socks and underwear since I've been too unmotivated to actually wash clothes. I'm not depressed; I'm just exhausted.
And because I can't think of anything else to write about, I'll leave you with this one last question: Has anyone else caught the show "Hip Hop Harry" on the Discovery Kids Network? Or is it in my delerium that I've seen this big yellow ghetto-bear dancing around, teaching the world's most earnest children (he must have ganked them from "Barney") how to "brush the dirt of their shoulders"? It really could just be me. June 28 My Kid's Messed Up Head, Part DeuxOkay, after a little thought and several inspiring pep talks from family and friends, I'm feeling a little better about this whole funky baby skull thing. Here's what went down: Tuesday the nurse called to tell us that all was well with Merrick's butt ultrasound results. I remind her that, while that's all fine and dandy, it's the x-ray I'm worried to death about, and would she please keep checking on that and let me know ASAP when that report comes back. Wednesday, I'm busy driving and getting my family lost in the middle of Oklahoma City at rush hour, calling everyone I know trying to get directions to Route 66, when the doctor's office beeps in--so I click over. On the other end of the line I hear the doctor's voice--the actual doctor, not the nurse--which immediately signals bad news. And he proceeded to explain the situation to me in a sympathetic, caring tone, and I proceeded to listen and respond with an occasional and unusually chipper "Oh, yeah, sounds good! Yes, I understand! Yes! Okay!"
He tells me that his office will go ahead and take care of setting everything up, and that they will get in touch with me to tell me about appointment times and whatnot. I hang up and confess to my mom that indeed I am slightly bothered, but we carry on with our wild goose chase down old Route 66, we enjoy shakes and sodas at Pop's, and we stop and marvel at a Round Barn. Caleb meets us after a job interview (which went quite well, more on that some other time) and I share the news with him. By the time we all get back home, there's already a message on our machine with the date for Merrick's 3-D CAT scan.
It scares me how fast they got this ball rolling. Tuesday we'll take Merrick back to the Children's Hospital. We are still waiting to hear when our meeting with the neurosurgeon will be.
I admit, I've been freaking out all week long up until I talked to our very good neighbor-friend/nurse, Shawna. I don't why it didn't occur to me earlier that she might know a thing or two about this; she worked for a while with sick and disabled children and had actually dealt with this very situation a few times. She gave me some details, and told me it's not as scary as I think. She knows the neurosurgeons at the Children's Hospital. It is because of our reassuring chit-chat and her insight and advice that I was finally able to breathe a little sigh of relief and get some sleep last night. Plus, she hooked me up with a really sweet gift-certificate for a birthday pedicure. Awesome.
On an entirely different note, my family's visit went well--way too fast, but well. My mom, dad, sister, brother-in-law, and niece Reese showed up Monday just in time for birthday cake. Jenny and I played with our real-live babies, the guys did guy stuff, my mom got her grandkid fix, and the kids were spoiled beyond belief and jacked-up on sugar all week long. Good times, good times. An observation or two, though: 1) Taking the kids out to the mall is no easier even with 2 additional adults in tow. No. Easier. And 2) Getting Caleb and my brother-in-law, James, together was not necessarily a smart move...but it sure did make for some hilarious moments.
June 27 What Do I Title This One?Well, I've been putting this off, partly because I don't even want to write about it and partly because my family has kept me hopping this week, but we finally heard from the doctor. Turns out a suture over on the left side of Merrick's head does look fused (Damnit!) and that we're to be scheduled for a CAT scan and a meeting with a neurosurgeon, probably sometime within the next week.
Right now I'm still reeling and I'm still a little too busy to really sit down and let it get to me. I've got a doctor's appointment myself today so I will post later with more details.
Hope everyone has a good weekend! June 23 Kicking and ScreamingHappy Birthday to Me! Take a minute to celebrate to yourselves how much I so totally rock. Find some cake and eat it. Chug a beer or two...hmmm...I wish the Budweiser people would compose a song in my honor, similar to their "Real Men of Genius" or "Real American Heroes" songs. My parents and my sister and her husband and her baby are flying in today--this is just about the coolest present I can think of. I'm waiting for the rest of the people in my house to wake up and treat me like the freaking princess that I am. Any minute now...I think I'll talk about politics and religion while I wait.
Contrary to popular belief, I don't get all of my political information from Saturday Night Live--sometimes I watch 2 seconds of CNN to help me fall asleep. And I have to ask--is everyone seriously still talking about Barack Obama fist-bumping his wife? Because I saw that video, and I, myself, would be more worried about the fact that right after their "first pound", Barack turned around and slapped that ass in front of millions of people. Okay, maybe it was more like an ever-so-discreet love pat--but still. And what's this talk about fist-bumping being a "black" thing? Am I the only one who remembers the very white Ricky Bobby's "Shake and Bake"?
Went to church again Sunday and found out just how comfortable the ladies' room was. About 10 minutes into the service, Merrick started crying. Caleb couldn't calm him down, so Mommy took over--I changed him and then settled down in this sweet comfy chair to feed him. And as soon as I whipped off my bra, the grandma brigade came out of hiding. They were running in the door, popping out of stalls--isn't there a commandment that says "Thou Shalt Not Touch a Breastfeeding Mother and Child"? I swear, I thought one of them was about to sit in my lap. A particularly intriguing member with orange skin and eggplant hair struck up a thrilling conversation: "I think it's so sweet when mothers breastfeed their children." (Who? Me? Oh, no, I'm not breastfeeding. I'm just trying to cram my boob in his mouth so no one will hear him scream.) "Do you stay at home with him or do you leave him during the day?" (I leave him. I leave him all alone. But not because I go to work.) "It's wonderful that you bring him to church. Children need to get to know the Lord early on in life." (Actually, it's the other way around--I'm here because of him. And I'm pretty sure he won't understand the concept of God until he's at least 10. Or maybe 50.)
As I sat there sweetly breastfeeding my child and blatantly ignoring granny, whose hand was mere inches away from my bare boob, the church and I talked things out in my head:
ME: "I'm just not ready to commit yet. I mean, I like you and all, don't get me wrong! You're great. I just don't think I'm ready to be tied down to one church in particular right now."
CH: "But look at what I'm giving you! A knowledgeable pastor, a friendly congregation, Sunday school classes for your girls...I even have a nursery for the little guy! Plus I dumped all this money into looking pretty and having all the latest technology for you. (sniff, sniff, tear.)
ME: "Hey don't cry. It's not you; it's me."
CH: (Angrily) "You are so full of dog doo-doo."
ME: "Can't you just say 'shit'?"
CH: "No, I'm the church. And you shouldn't say it either."
ME: "You mean I'd have to stop cussing?!"
CH: "Yes. Besides, don't try and distract me. We both know what this is really about."
ME: "What are talking about?"
CH: "When are you going to get it through your head that I'M NOT HER?!"
ME: "Oh, please."
CH: "Seriously! You don't like me because you're worried I'll turn out like that other country church--I'm not like that."
ME: "I know. Tell you what. Give me another shot. My family likes you, my friends like you. I just need more time, that's all."
CH: (Sniffling) "Okay."
It's true. There was a church, a Southern Baptist, Back-woods, po-dunk country church, that me and my ex-husband became heavily involved in about 10 years ago. I don't bring it up much, because the truth is, I'd like to completely block out that entire 2-year period. I hate who I was at that time in my life. I hate what I looked like, I hate the things I said, I hate the things I did, I hate what I put up with. If I could go back in time and kick my own ass, I would. In a heartbeat. I'd hire thugs to help me give myself the beating of a lifetime. I was in a miserable excuse for a marriage, and all I could do was stinkin' pray that it would get better. I got it into my head to tell my Catholic parents that they were going to hell in a handbasket. And worse, I even toyed with the idea of boycotting Disney, and that right there is just blasphemous to life in general.
What is it with me and church? Am I that scared of turning back into the snivelling country idiot I once was? Am I scared my kids will? Do I have to stop cussing? Wait, do I have to stop drinking? Will I ever be able to make it through a Sunday without feeling sick to my stomach? Will I ever be able to make it through a service without rolling my eyes? I'd try another church if I thought that was the answer to my problem. But it's not. Well, bottom line is this: Caleb likes it. The girls like it. So, damnit, I'm going to keep going until I like it, too. Stranger things have happened. I might just see about those hired thugs...
And I'll be breastfeeding in the car from now on. June 19 My Nerves Are Permanently Shot.Grocery shopping with children: Not for the faint of heart. Ask anyone who's done it and lived to tell the tale. I attempted this fantastical feat yesterday at 4:30 p.m. in about 100 degree weather with all 3 kids in tow. Know that I only did this because we were slap out of bread, milk, fruit--everything you could think of.
Cheyenne was, as usual, a huge help, even if she did continuously ask for a million things that I just can't buy right now. Merrick was okay--yes, he was strapped in his carseat the whole time, but he kept grunting and farting and threatening to wake up. And chances are, when he's awake, he's hungry--scratch that--he's stark-raving starving which in turn causes him to shriek and scream and I just don't think I could've handled that after dealing with Mia.
Mia, my angel.
It used to bother me when I saw kids on leashes. Now, I GET IT.
I go from the quiet requests...
"Mia, come over here please."
"Mia, don't hide in the clothes racks please."
"Mia, you can't ride on the edge of the buggy like that."
to trying to appeal to her sense of reason...
"Mia, don't climb on the shelves, you'll fall and hurt yourself."
"Mia, come back here or Mommy will get lost"
"Mia, if you stand in front of the buggy like that, I might accidentally run over your little foot."
to a little more insistant commands...
"Mia, watch where you're going or you'll knock something over."
"Mia, I swear to God, COME BACK!"
"Mia, GET DOWN FROM THERE, NOW!"
"Mia, for the love of Pete, I said you have to WATCH WHERE YOU'RE WALKING!"
to the mother of all threats:
"Mia, if you don't stay by the cart, some stranger will come by and snatch you up!"
Sigh...if only.
I'm kidding. I love my kids. The kidnapping comment doesn't work, and I finally resort to bribery in the form of chocolate muffins, sugary cereal, and cash register candy, and that works...for now. By the time we got home, I was ready to stick my head in the oven. Except our oven is electric, so it wouldn't have done much...where would one buy a kid leash anyway?
Yesterday morning we took Merrick for his appointment at the Children's Hospital at OU Medical Center--that place is like a city in itself. After we managed to find our way to radiology, he had his ultrasound, which went fine, and his X-ray, which also went fine. It helps, I think, that we took him to a place that's used to dealing with kids--everybody was extra nice and extra gentle. Everything was extra colorful and extra soft. And Nick Jr. played on every TV. (we were lucky enough to sit in on not 1, but 2 episodes of "Wonder Pets" in the waiting room--just like home.) We should hear from our doctor by Monday.
And with that, I need my coffee and my chocolate muffin--okay, yes. Those were just for mom. June 17 Everybody and EverythingI've been a little missing in action these days as far as the blogworld goes--I guess that's got something to do with having a baby and a 3-year-old and trying to keep a sanitary house while fitting activities and appointments and the occasional quick shower somewhere in those measly 24 hours I'm given each day. I have trouble keeping up with everyone else but me. Time is flying by insanely fast.
For instance, I can't get my head around the fact that Merrick is a month old already. When did that happen? Wait, when did I even have him? I was sure that whole birthing thing was just a dream--thank goodness we have video proof. Tomorrow he gets his very first ultrasound followed by his very first X-ray. I did a little googling yesterday and found that the worst that could happen is that he would need surgery to basically open his skull back up. I don't say that to make light of the situation, because I can't even let myself imagine how awful it must be to watch your child go through such a major surgery. (Major props to Charlie's mommy and Blair's mommy--you guys, and your kids, are just amazing.) But, in that event, it's a good thing we're getting this done now--the earlier, the better, is what they say, so that the brain has room to grow normally. Some kids have facial deformities from this; my main worry is that it would affect his mental development, or his eyesight, or something. On the upside, after surgery, he would get to wear a kick-ass helmet for a year, and that would totally give him some serious street-cred with the kids at the playground. He would be so hardcore.
Right now I'm trying stay optimistic. There's still no reason to worry. Merrick's doctor will call us hopefully by this time next week to let us know how everything turned up. And if there's a problem I hope I can be positive and calm and rational. I love my stinkin' cute son and his messed-up noggin. Whenever I hold him I can't help but gently pet and kiss those crooked little head bones. He's most definitely out of that dazed and confused newborn stage and he's starting to pay attention to the world around him. He turns his head to follow sounds and he intensely studies whatever he finds to look at. He's genuinely smiled at me a few times and he laughs heartily in his sleep. His eyes are still blue as blue can be. He still eats every 2 hours or so, even at night, so I'm a little tired, but it's obviously worth it. Everyone should have a baby to warm their heart like this.
Mia's been a little more active, and a little more demanding, than usual. She's so...wild. Maybe she needs the kick-ass helmet. But I tell ya, she loves her baby brother and hasn't been even slightly jealous of him. She's had her share of "brat" moments these past weeks, but that's to be expected. I can handle her meltdowns, just so long as she fits in "I love you" and "you're the best mommy in the whole world" a few times a day. Everyone needs a 3-year-old for the ego.
Cheyenne's been a huge help, with the baby, yes, but with Mia for the most part. She's constantly offering her assistance--with just about everything except changing diapers, but who could blame her for that? I just have to be careful not to allow her to take on too much, though it is tempting sometimes. I honestly don't know how I'd make it out in public without her to keep everyone, including me, in line. If I forget something, she remembers. If I drop something, she picks it up. If Mia escapes, she's on it. Everyone needs a 12-year-old for moral support.
Caleb's had a tiny bit more luck lately with the job search. The broker thing was working out alright for the amount of effort he was putting into it, but even still, something with a salary and benefits would be even better for us. He's got a formal interview this morning and a sort of informal interview this afternoon, plus a few more opportunities that have come up--and everything's right here in Oklahoma City. It's not that we're not open to moving, but it would obvioulsy be easier to stay where we are.
Our garden is coming along nicely. We've got squash coming out the ass, and cucumbers, too, but I'm less excited about those. We've picked all the strawberries we're going to get this season, and I think the blackberries have just about bit the dust. Our tomatoes are just getting started. Okra--I'm thinking about torching those plants in the dead of night just so I won't have to smell Caleb pickling them. Oh, and we've got yummy onions. I eat them raw.
We went to church again last Sunday. I still get bored with all the singing and pastor's emotional speeches, but I actually understood--and sort of enjoyed--the main message. I'm not totally comfortable yet--bad Baptist memories, I suppose. My skin crawling and my palms sweating and whatnot. But I owe it to my kids to keep trying. Maybe we'll end up trying another church. Maybe it's just a matter of giving myself some time and giving that place a good honest shot. I'll get there. June 11 Branching Out A LittleWell, I've semi-recovered from my hair cut-tastrophe, and this week has been back to almost normal, with the exception of, oh, CHURCH on Sunday. Yeah, that's right. I went. What.
It wasn't as scary as I thought it would be. We went with our neighbor-friends--something about traveling in groups makes trying new churches safer, I guess. The country-grandma brigade didn't come whisk away my children to separate Sunday schools. The self-righteous-fat-ass-white-male club didn't get all up in our faces upon arrival. There were 2 big movie screens--interesting. Shaking hands, bible verses, music--twangy at times. Smiling, country people--nobody came off as religiously calculating. The "invitation" followed promptly by the "collection". Just your typical contemporary Christian cheese--but I don't think I need to be entertained into getting right with God. I just need to tone it down with the caution...and maybe the snark (but just a little). So, I might be able to handle a Baptist church after all.
Couldn't hurt to try.
Merrick is doing all the fun baby stuff that babies do. He eats like nothing I've ever seen; I wonder if that's just a taste of what's to come. I try to keep my eyes peeled for women around town toting small babies for his newborn playing pleasure. Mia never really had a friend as an infant--I've never really had a friend with an infant (well, at least not locally or at the sametime as me.) so my quest is just as much for me as it is for him. I'm thinking about taking out an ad--Friendless Male, age 4 wks old. Enjoys sunsets, long walks around the block, peeing on mom, and spitting-up. Seeks similar-minded playmate, 0 to 12 wks old, with non-psychotic, non-smoking parents.
Couldn't hurt to try. June 03 Such a MomOh yes folks. The kiddie-computer actually says "puke". Caleb, Jason, Cheyenne and I listened to it 500 times each. It's definitely "puke".
And how 'bout that Barack Obama?
The baby: He's living the good life. Pooping in the comfort of his own bed. Having his butt meticulously cleaned with cotton balls dipped in warm water every hour. Dressing up in one dapper little outfit after another. Drinking 'til he passes out. Sleeping until someone wakes him up by changing his poopy diaper and cleaning his butt with cotton balls...you get the picture. It's a vicious cycle.
Mia: I think it's finally starting to get to her. I don't know if she's made the full connection between the baby and the lack of one-on-one time with Mommy and Daddy, but her melt-downs are becoming more and more frequent, particularly after a long day of phrases like "not right now", "in a minute", and "after I feed the baby". She lost it last night when Caleb and I got a little too eager for her to go to sleep--we tried to rush storytime, and that didn't sit very well with her. I never realized how difficult it would be to spend some quality time alone with each child.
Cheyenne: So far she's keeping busy by hanging out with friends, making plans for summer camp, and thinking of ways to spend her birthday fortune. She's become obsessed with her hair lately. Yesterday she busted out the "1995 slicked-back-ponytail with 2 long, thin, strands of hair slicked down to the side of her face" 'do. You know the look: it went so well with your silk shirt, white jeans, Black Nike's, and way-too-dark-lip-liner. You perfected this look while you were listening to Ini Kamoze's "Here Comes the Hotstepper." I cringed everytime I looked at her. Luckily, she experiments with a different style everyday. She'd lock herself in the bathroom for an hour if we'd let her. But 5 minutes gives her more than enough time to do the damage.
Me: Speaking of hair, I got mine hacked clean off yesterday. I ran into Cost Cutters (first mistake) for a little trim, and that lady cut the hell out of my hair. I think she was going for choppy layers--what she didn't know is that my hair boings up into funky curls when it is even slightly short; I also have this ridiculous cowlick which prevents me from wearing bangs.
She gave me bangs.
I should've left before I allowed her to so much as pick up the scissors. Note to self: If your hairdresser looks like she just wandered in from off the street, or more specifically, like she drunkenly wandered in from panhandling on the side of a busy interstate, proceed with caution. Better yet, don't proceed at all.
But I was desperate. My hair looked shitty, I needed to save some money, I had all the kids with me, and there was only a small window of time before Merrick got hungry again. And I don't enjoy breasfeeding a fussy baby in a hot car in a crowded parking lot. I thought logically to myself, "It's just hair. It'll grow back. And it can't look any worse than it does now."
Another note to self: Don't get your hair cut PERIOD in those emotional post-partum weeks.
I had to hold back tears when Cheyenne said, "Wow. You look like such a mom now!" Damnit! I paid some drunk bum $12 to butcher away what little bit of youth and femininity I had left.
Sigh. I'll put up a picture once I stop wallowing. June 01 June 1stJune 1st. Toni's Birthday Celebration Month is officially upon us. Rejoice.
I have no major plans for the 23rd--did you guys get that? It's the 23rd. Right now the idea is to have myself a little cake with the fam--which on that day will happen to include my mom, dad, sister, brother-in-law, and Reese my neice! They will be flying up all together and staying for about 4 days. I've already warned them that we'll be doing a whole lot of nothing, which they all seemed totally fine with. Good. I'm not much of one for public appearances lately.
Merrick's appointment was scheduled for the 18th. The doctor will get back with us a few days after that--and until then there's no good reason to freak out. I go back and forth between worrying out of my mind, and then thinking there's absolutely nothing wrong--maybe my naivety is a sort of coping mechanism, whatever. I don't care. We'll see what the doctor has to say. And that'll be that.
And real quick, what's the most hilarious thing you can think of? I'll tell you: Mia's got this little Leapfrog Learning Thingy-green-keyboard thingy. On it are all the letters of the alphabet and different settings for which to learn them. One of the settings gives an example of the letter you press--the computer says, "B, as in boy." What is the example for P? The computer says, seriously, "P, as in puke." I shit you not. The computer says puke.
Awesome. May 29 My Kid's Jacked-Up MelonBusy 2 weeks. Cheyenne's birthday was yesterday. She got a ton of presents in the mail and she's got more cash than I ever dreamed of having at that age...or even now. She's ballin' out of control. Caleb and his brother Jason took her to see Indiana Jones while I stayed at the house with the little kids and one-armedly put up streamers, prepared a chocolate fondue, and cleaned up the place a little bit. It's been a while, but I still got it.
I think she had a decent birthday, considering she couldn't have the all-out-slumber-bash of her dreams. Maybe later on in the summer when the baby's older.
Merrick had a check-up yesterday morning. Turns out he's got a messed-up head and a messed-up rear-end; next week we will got to some children's hospital in Oklahoma City so they can ultrasound his butt (he's got this weird extra dimple-thing--not a hole, but some kind of indention) to make sure the end of his spinal cord is free-floating and whatnot. While they're at it, they'll go ahead and do an X-ray of his poor little head--it's got this ridgeline running straight down the middle of his skull from back to front, like the plates there are overlapping. His soft spot is really small and more towards the front of his head rather than at the top and in the middle. The doctor just wants to make sure nothing's permanently closed up yet so that his tender little brain has room to grow, and that he's not literally hard-headed.
So, it's kind of weird and a little unexpected, but that's what it is and that's what we'll do. He's most likely completely fine. Caleb's head's kind of warped-looking, and he's okay. Somewhat.
Other than all that, we've been doing a lot of the same--holding the baby, oooing and ahhhing over the baby, and me, feeding the baby. He's just bound to be big and strong--sometimes it seems like he eats constantly. I feel like a dairy cow. I've been bad as far as my diet is concerned; I over-did it yesterday with soda and birthday cake and chocolate fondue, and Merrick was fussy and gassy all night long. I'm telling myself that today is the day I really get back on track and stick to foods with a lot less sugar and caffeine.
Caleb's brother is leaving tomorrow. I'm a little worried--this means we're on our own for the next few weeks before the next string of company. Things will be "back to normal" and I'm afraid I won't know how to act. It's been so nice having someone around to distract us from what we really should be doing.
Which reminds me, the baby is finally asleep and I technically have time to get a quick shower. Have a good weekend, people! May 25 Whew!Sitting around holding a baby is tough stuff, lemme tell ya. Let anyone in my house tell ya, cause that's all we've been doing. Granted, sometimes I feed the baby, and that is also very hard. But the real challenge is diapering the kid. I always--always, always--get pooped on. And then peed on. And then promptly spit up on. And then possibly pooped on again. I've not yet learned to be quick about the whole business. I guess I tend to take it slow so as not to "mess anything up down there". I'll get the hang of it...when he's almost ready to potty-train. And I'm pretty sure I'll still get peed on then, too.
The girls seem to be adjusting well. Mia has been busy wearing out our company. She's having a little trouble understanding why mommy and daddy can't give her undivided attention 24/7, but it's more confusion than jealousy, at least for right now. Cheyenne just got out of school for the summer. It's so sweet--she will ask to hold the baby only once she knows everyone else has had their turn. Caleb's got the hang of keeping the house clean, cooking dinner, and mowing the yard. Plus, he's quit smoking. And he diapers like a champ. I'm real proud. I sometimes feel he doesn't get the credit he deserves because he's a dad. If he were the mom, he'd have his own show.
Me, I'm okay. I didn't have stitches or anything so the physical recovery of giving birth has been a cake walk. I've miraculously lost all the baby weight and then some. It almost feels like I was never even pregnant. (I'm sorry. I know I'm ruining it for all the new mothers out there, and I'm sorry.) I've been trying to give up coffee, but it's just...so...hard.
Merrick is a saintly little baby--sure, he wakes up at night every few hours, but he eats and goes right back to sleep, so there's not much there to complain about, especially considering that Cheyenne and Mia both were absolute monsters in that way. He has a healthy appetite--he gets right to it and doesn't play around when it comes to meals. He spits up a lot, and I haven't exactly figured out what it is I might be eating/drinking that is causing this. Maybe it's nothing. I pray it's not my coffee. I have to change his clothes and my clothes about 50 times a day, and I am never--never--completely clean for more than a few seconds at a time.
You guys all have a great week! May 17 My Brilliant FeatI can probably skip saying that the last several days have been one big, busy, blur. Our baby is here, live and in person. I'm still trying to let it all sink in--maybe it was the drugs, maybe the whole no-sleeping thing, maybe it's the fabulous food my father-in-law's been cooking everyday. Life is one big honkin' cloud of delirium right now, and I'm loving every minute of it.
The birth story in a nutshell: Wednesday morning, Labor and Delivery, 7:30 a.m. We came, we saw, we got IV'd. Still at 4 cm. I put up with about 2 more hours worth of solid-yet-somewhat-bearable contractions before politely ordering my epidural, and after that I was feelin' fine and flying high. At 11:30 a.m. I had made no progress, and New Doctor came in and broke my water--at which point, I'm told, I proclaimed loudly and gleefully "SHE JUST MADE THAT WATER HER BITCH!" In less than an hour later, I was ready to push. New Doctor was once again summoned. 75 random people in scrubs came into the room. Caleb held my hand and out popped our purple little boy. He took a minute or two to get going--you know how they say you don't breathe until you hear your baby cry? Not so. I was so drugged up--I let Caleb do all the worrying for me on that one. I was too busy getting a kick out of the utter numbness in my left leg. We all got to go home early--we were back at the house by 2:00 the very next afternoon. Merrick is here, he is healthy, and we've just been having a wonderful time getting to know him.
Looks: At this point it's impossible to say that he looks like either me or his daddy. He looks nothing like Mia did when she was born--he's got this light-brown hair and these blue, blue eyes and his skin looks a little on the fair side. This surprises me; I assumed he'd come out looking a little more Rico Suave and a little less Otis Lee (He's the tough Cabbage Patch Kid, ya'll). He's got "school-yard bully" written all over his squashy little face. He's absolutely adorable in this grumpy-cute kind of way. He just looks like...a boy, if that makes any sense.
Personality: Yeah, can't really read too much into this yet, either. He's a newborn. He eats a lot. Sleeps a lot. Poops a lot. I will say that from just a few minutes after he was born, he's had his eyes wide open and his head up, just checking things out. He's been giving me this pissed-off look and I assume it's because of all the pokes and pricks and circumcision he's had to endure over the course of his life. I feel really bad about that.
Sisters' takes: Mia is absolutely in love with her baby brother. She wants to constantly hold him, or kiss him, or pet his head, or help with something--anything--relating to taking care of him. Cheyenne immediately took to him--she just beams whenever she holds him, which admittedly isn't much because I'm a little bit of a baby-hog. But, so far, so good.
I can't really think of much else to say except thanks again for all the comments and e-mails and phone calls. It's going to be a low-key next few weeks for us.
I just love my new son.
I love him.
I love him.
I love him. May 14 Merrick Jackson Jeffrey McClungHey, this is Jenny, Toni's sister. She wanted me to let everyone know that her new bundle of joy is here. He arrived around 12:50pm or so, weighing in at 8'lbs 15 ozs, and 21 inches long. The official name as you can see above is Merrick Jackson Jeffrey McClung. Toni is doing great, labor went well, Mia and Cheyenne are excited big sisters and of course Caleb is ecstatic. Here are a few pictures that Toni sent me. If all goes well they should be home by Friday, so I'm sure she'll update more then. May 13 CloseAt the risk of becoming the most hated woman in the world, I'm going to take a moment and congratulate myself on a pregnancy well done. Let's take stock of the last 9 months, shall we?
1 million negative pregnancy tests, give or take
1 positive pregnancy test
1 new book about pregnancy and childbirth
3 new books about becoming a big sister
3 months of utter nausea
6 months of aches and pains
16 lb weight loss
19 lb weight gain
500 trips to the doctor's office
500 cups of pee
500 bitter fights over baby names
A surly, almost-teenage daughter who is less than thrilled about having a little brother
An excitable, super-active 3 year-old who now sleeps in her own bed 50% of the time
Two significantly calmer big honkin' indoor labs
One fabulous husband/dedicated father
A zillion: worries, phone calls, hugs, kisses, massages, warm baths, gallons of milk, pudding cups, and "Scrubs" re-runs.
So, all in all, good times. I can't believe it's almost over. We have no official name decided upon, but we're close, I can feel it. Top picks? I think it's safe to reveal them now:
Feel free to weigh in on our choices. I can't promise we won't just go with Diego, depending on the intensity of the fit Mia's going to throw when she finds out that, no, that's not really going to be her baby brother's name. My appointment with New Doctor went well. Tomorrow we will get up at the butt-crack of dawn and drive to the hospital, where I will be hooked up to a pitocin machine (hospitals love pitocin) and relieved of my job as chief incubator of baby numer 3. Tomorrow I'll get to hold my son in my arms.
May 12 Yet?Nope.
I've been busy! I laid around Saturday, went to a little kid's birthday party, and laid around some more. Sunday I ate breakfast at IHOP with the fam, came home and laid around inside, went on the back porch and laid around outside, and then I had to get a shower! It's not easy being me. I hope everyone had a good Mother's Day, by the way.
Today I have another checkup with New Doctor. She'll probably be going over everything I need to do/bring for Wednesday's induction--I have to be at the hospital at 6:30 a.m., no doubt so that she can deliver my baby just in time for lunch. Fine. Whatever. I'm going to have a baby in 2 days. (Or less, but most likely 2.)
Onto other things, Caleb's been growing out his goatee and sideburns. He looks a little like Wolverine and he's thinking about shaving his head. I'd say it's time for him to find a real job now, but I've really liked hanging out with him. That broker-deal business seems to be working out okay--and if a couple more guys come through for him, it'll be a lot better than okay. This could be something Caleb could really do, and do from home, and do well. I'm so excited to see him pursuing this, because even when he finds an actual job, he could keep this gig on the side--the extra income made from just a few phone calls and faxes a week would do more than just help us out.
Cheyenne came home Friday afternoon almost in tears--kids at school had been making fun--serious fun--mean fun--of her clothes (crazy T-shirt, jean skirt, black hair ribbon, dangly earrings, polka-dot leggings, and black rhinestone-y cowgirl boots). Granted, Caleb and I chuckle to ourselves every morning as she walks out the door in one outrageous (ridiculous) outfit after another, but that's just Cheyenne, and we'd hate to see her conform just because she let some punk kids get to her. After a short pep talk and a few suggestions ("Tell those jerks at least you're allowed to pick your own clothes! That at least you're original! That at least you can remember to change your own underwear!") Cheyenne tromped out to the bus today in a pink tank-top, a white sweater, pink leggings under black capri's, the same black hair ribbon, and (Dear God) the cowgirl boots. How gutsy is she?
She wants to sign up for Choir next year, along with band. She wants to join the Pep Squad, even though she has no clue what it is that club actually does. She wants to start ballet lessons in the fall. She wants a bike for her birthday. It might sound like just a long list of wants from a spoiled child, but to Caleb and I, it's a kind of a relief--she's finally motivated to DO something--anything--and I'm sorry, but Pep Squads, ballet lessons and a bike? Could be worse (read: more expensive). I can imagine: "Mom, I want to be a Cheerleader. I want to take strip cardio classes and gymnastics, and I want a motorized scooter and a Nintendo DSLite for my birthday." And I can imagine me: "Fuuuuuuck no." And yes, I'd be forced to say the f-word in that instance.
Mia's Mia. She's more excited than anyone about the baby. She's been rockin' this sweet set of golf clubs (see pictures) that our neighbor-friends picked up for her--and I mean DAMN! They're nicer than anything Caleb's ever used before. Mia, and her wee little pink golf bag, with her wee little clubs. Caleb's been taking her out and working with her here and there...she's got the stance down, and she'll tink those balls across the yard like nobody's business. It's ADORABLE. When our golf course finally opens up (as it was scheduled to in Spring 2005, then Fall 2005, then Spring 2006, etc.) she's already got plans to "go golfing with Daddy and Mr. Billy." It's so on.
May 09 Won't Be Long NowReal fast: Got a call from New Doctor yesterday regarding induction. She wants to get me going next Wednesday, May 14th, if I haven't already gone before then. One week before my due date--when I started to ask questions, she totally blew me off. But you know what? I didn't really care. I mean, maybe I would care if I wasn't already dilated to 4, or if I weren't dealing with contractions, or if every part of my body didn't completely ache. But honestly, it doesn't matter to me if this induction is scheduled strictly for her convenience--I'll get to see my baby in 6 days or less. And I'm more than ready. Sweet!
And now onto my tag: Name 12 weird/random facts, goals, etc. whatever about yourself, then tag more people. I officially tag everyone reading this. Go.
May 08 Passing TimeTurns out yesterday wasn't a good day to have a baby--and I'm fine with that. Call me crazy, but I really want this kid to be born on an even-numbered day. I just don't like odd numbers. I asked the baby what he thought about May 8th. So far he doesn't think too much of it.
I had a dream about a month ago--a wicked weird dream--that I went to this Tahiti-like island where all women went to give birth. They set you up in a little straw hut, and you got to labor and deliver painlessly right there in the ocean. The only thing was, that, when the big moment came, you automatically turned into this horrible animal, a sort of black lab/organgutan/sloth/flamingo...and you stayed that way forever, or at least until you were slaughtered by hunters, while your baby was whisked away to the United States to live a normal life, far away from his freak mother. In my dream, I was trying to fight the animalizing process before it happened--but the lady at the front desk informed me that my delivery date was May 10th, and I had better get ready. As unsettling as the dream was, I woke up feeling kind of cool, and that date is just stuck in my head. So we'll see what happens over the weekend. I'll either still be pregnant, or I'll have a baby and turn into a monster.
I took a picture of the kid's room last night--we had the crib set up and everything, but we thought it'd be a great idea to see what the walls would look like if they were orange--you know, just to make things a little harder on ourselves. We didn't go nuts and paint everything--just a few key accent spaces--and I think it looks alright. The only problem is, now, Caleb wants a touch of blue somewhere in there for a subliminal University-of-Florida-effect. I'm not so sure about this idea, but as long as we're not blatantly gatoring the place up, I guess I'll be okay. I'm a big fan of the color-combo, just not the team. Right now, the room's sort of hodge-podge--there's no real theme, but I think it looks stinkin' cute anyway. May 07 AcceptanceHola Amigos! And let's hear it for Oklahoma City, for winning top honors in the annual "City Most Obsessed With Junk Food" contest! I had a feeling--with a Sonic's Drive-In every 15 feet, this award was in the bag!
Cheyenne just took off to school in the black-and-white polka-dot dress--and today she was decked out in all her fabulous jewelry, too (mom wouldn't let her put on dangly earrings and a million bangles for the NJHS induction). She's sweatin' somebody--my gut feeling tells me it's this teeny little short kid I've heard her mention--although he looks like a complete and utter nerd on the outside, he's the smartest, wittiest, funniest thing alive on the inside. So let's hear it for Cheyenne, for her brains-before-brawn attitude when it comes to men! You go, girl! Wear that dress! Work it!
I've been trying to make a tiny bit of peace with the baby predicament. Caleb and I are trying everything--everything--to get this labor going and yet we're coming up with nothing. In fact, right now, I feel better physically than I have since 2007...it's almost as if this great big belly doesn't even exist; I'm so mobile this morning.
Yesterday morning I was having a few contractions, so I did what any woman in my situation would've done. I filled up a nice warm bath, sat on the edge of the tub, and shaved as much of my legs as I could possibly reach. What did you think I was going to say? That I sipped tea while contemplating the meaning of life and the awesomeness of giving birth? Phah! Hey, it could be months before I am this clean-shaven again.
At about 4:00, Mia and I decided to go shuffle slowly around Target for awhile, where I bought a changing pad and a lamp for the baby's "room". And some gum--hey, it could be months before I remember to brush my teeth on a regular basis.
Today I've got plans to get that baby's room together. Caleb's all done with the crib and I'm so impressed--it looks like it came right out of a Pottery Barn catalog, with its retro spindles and rustic black finish. I can't wait to put it up. The lamp I picked out is actually a lantern, and it won rave reviews. It has 3 different settings, so that at 2:00 a.m. I won't be flooding the room with blinding light. It's all coming together, and still, the fact that we'll have a baby--an actual baby--in our house within the next couple weeks hasn't fully hit me yet.
I still can't eat a ton of food without feeling absolutely ill, but that's probably for the best. My feet are ridiculously huge at the end of the day, but my blood pressure was admirably low, so pre-eclampsia can be ruled out. And swe | |||
