Ok, maybe more than a "little" busy. This guy just doesn't want me to set him down and I *swear* it's not my fault!! Well, ok, it is my fault......but I simply can't help but hold my new fresh babies all the time. *sigh* And once you start......
So, Christmas is quickly approaching and Isabella is on my mind constantly. Not that she isn't always on my mind constantly, because she is, but right now it's more.........intense I guess. I couldn't figure out why I was crying so much the week leading up to Thanksgiving and then it hit me, "oh, it's the holidays". It sucks,no other way to slice it. I am now in the anger phase of my grief, and it's not pleasant. I have been so freakin' snappy and mean lately. I am just so completely furious that Isabella isn't here. That I only have two babies here when I should have three. I hate that when I go out with Jackson and Kingston (which lets face, ain't often at this point!) people assume I only have two children. I hate explaining things and then seeing that look come across people's faces......the look that says "I don't really want to know this or talk about this with you."
I miss Isabella so intensely, it hurts. I'm sad for Jackson, he misses her so much and understands so little. It isn't fair that his little heart has to bear this. It also isn't fair that I will have to explain to Kingston everything and he too will get to experience loss at a young age. At least I'm an adult and have a grasp on things (supposedly anyways),these kids just don't have it. We're going to put Jackson in counseling next spring and I'm hoping that will help him. He's been acting out and regressing a little lately and I'm sure losing his sister is the root of the problem. Plus, add in getting a new baby just 5 months later and it's a lot to deal with! Sometimes I wonder if our family is going to get a break at some point........here's hoping.
Things are good with Rollie Pollie. He's an eating machine, so most of my days are spent on the couch breastfeeding. He's growing though! It's funny, he's six weeks old and doesn't even weigh what Jackson weighed at birth. Yikes! Now that puts Jackson's ginormous size in perspective for me.
My darling Isabella, we miss you so much. We talk about you and to you everyday in this house of yours. I know you know it and you can still feel our love. I still go in your room just to feel you, I love it in there, your little haven. You are missed more than you know and even though I'm not quite sure how we will all get over this or if we ever will get over this, I hope you know that you are never forgotten. I love you and miss you sweet Princess. I'd give my life to hold you one more time and kiss your fat cheeks again. I'm happy you are free of your body and free of all your earthly sufferings. I can't wait to see you again baby girl.....
Ok, I needed to get that out!!! Well, my wormy is squirming in his sling. Gotta go :)
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
The glorious birth
So.........on October the 22nd (a Monday) at 8 am I walked into my kitchen to grab a little cup of coffee. Husband was just getting ready to leave for work and I felt a gush. I kind of paused and felt another gush of water and then one more. I yelled at Husband, "I think my water just broke". He laughed and said "WHAT??" I really thought women's water broke before labor only in the movies. Of course in the movies the women gives birth about 5 minutes later, right? Wrong. So I confirm that water has broken (I'm soakin' my clothes here man), call everyone we know, we get giddy with anticipation and then we wait. And wait. And wait some more. Labor should start any minute, right? I call my doula, we talk about things to do to get labor going, she says she's coming over. I have rested, I have cleaned, I am getting a little impatient here. So around 4 pm Doula shows up and we start some accupressure. Don't tell her, but I don't think that crap works. It sure didn't for me! I had a few contractions here and there, but nothing regular or consistent. So around 6 pm Husband and I decide to go to the mall and walk. We do two rounds all the way around the mall and I can't do it anymore, my back was killing me!! So we go home and wait. At this point my mom and his mom are there staring at me. I know they were just excited, but it was starting to drive me a little crazy.
At 9 pm we decide to drive up to the hospital to see where I'm at and make a decision. Doula thinks we should just stay home, labor will start. I'm more concerned about infection risk (I had been super careful all day and checked my temp regularly just to be sure) so I want to go. We get there and endure more waiting. We get a non-stress test and the nurse freaks a little when she finds out my water has been broken for 16 hours and I'm just now strollin' in the doors. I tell her my temp is fine and baby has been moving fine. She's says "oooooookay" like I'm crazy. :)
Rollie Pollie looks good, they confirm my water has indeed broken (no kidding!) and say that my cervix is 3 centimeters dilated and I'm 60% effaced. Grrr. So the on call midwife (not MY midwife) wants to start me on pitocin immediately and get the baby out. I say "no thanks", but I WILL stay over night and let you monitor me until morning. She's OK with that and we decide to re-evaluate in the AM when it's been 24 hours post rupture.
So we get settled in our room and I try to sleep. SO not happening. All I can think is "C'mon body!!! Go into labor!!" My body has done this a time or two before so I'm completely confused as to why it won't just get it over with already! I really didn't want pitocin, I planned on a natural birth and didn't think I could do it with the pit. Those contractions HURT!
So it's 9 am on Tuesday. No labor. No promise of labor. I'm so bummed. And tired. So I consent to the pitocin. But only on the agreement that it would be increased very, very, very slowly and once my body got into a good productive pattern, nobody would touch it. All agreed, except our stupid nurse. (I could write a novel about this nurse, but I won't. Bascially, she sucked and we had two or three arguments, she had a few with my doula, my husband, my mom and the list goes on. She sucks.)
Anyways, pitocin gets started, husband and I start walking the halls of the womens center. We walk, I do the birthing ball, we walk more, I rest. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. So around noon things are starting to get hoppin' in my body thank goodness. If I remember correctly contractions were about 3-4 minutes apart. Nice! So I order some lunch because I'm starving......and since I'm going natural, I can eat! Yeah! Lunch arrives at 1pm and I have to inhale it between contractions which are about 2-3 minutes apart and getting intense. I'm having to really focus through them at this point and people in the room are starting to annoy me. We had LOTS or people. The whole extended fam PLUS Jackson.......who at this point needs a nap and is whining non-stop. So I order everyone except husband and doula out of the room. I can just sense that it's about to get all kinds of ugly. It's 2 pm now and I request to have my cervix checked (haven't had it checked since the night before because of the broken water) I am 5 cm and 80% effaced. It pisses me off a little (ok a lot) because I feel like I should be further along. I think to myself "I still have a couple of hours or so left". Nope.
So now it's 2:15 or so and I am not a happy serene girl anymore. All of a sudden my contractions are 1-2 minutes apart and they are not friendly contractions. They mean business. They want this baby out. I decide I want to get in the tub, I think it will feel good and I am right. It was wonderful. I decide to stay there. I am crying at this point (with tears and everything) and I remember looking at Husband at one point bawling saying "It hurts SO bad, it really does". He looks at me with sympathy but always says "you can do this". So we're in the tub. Now contractions are one on top of the other. I'm only getting about 30 seconds in between to rest and I'm basically spending that time dreading the next contraction. I'm getting panicked and start demanding an epidural. I am yelling at my doula and telling her I can't do it, blah blah blah. She of course just says "yes you can". So now she thinks I'm complete because I'm writhing around in the tub yelling my head off. Nurse checks me and like an idiot says "I can't find her cervix, where did it go??" She keeps fishing for it and I finally grab her hand out and say "that HURTS!" Doula informs her she cannot find my cervix because I'm fully dilated. Dummy.
Here is where I get really pissed off in a big hurry. My midwife informs us that we can't birth in the tub because we are banking Rollie Pollie's cord blood. So I have to get OUT OF THE TUB, dry off, change clothes and somehow WALK to the bed. I'm pissed. No, I'm furious. I'm in agony. I get up, with the help of big strong Husband of course. I'm freakin' nekkid from the waist down, standing in the bathroom while the nurse takes 5 MINUTES to figure out how to get my wet shirt off with me being hooked up the the IV pole. I start screaming at her to figure it out and just as I am about to rip out my IV she gets it. Idiot! (really, she was a nasty nurse, don't feel sorry for her.) So we get a dry shirt on me and I somehow make it to the bed where I colapse and start moaning and yelling again. My mom, mother in law and sister in law are in there at this point looking pretty horrified at my state of being......I'm sure it was a sight. So we are pushing. Excuse me, I'M pushing and it feels so darn good. Painful, but the best kind of pain. I push twice and out came my 5lb 15oz Rollie Pollie at 2:45 pm. I caught him myself and brought him up to my chest where he found the breast all by himself. (Yes, really) It was wonderful, beautiful, GLORIOUS. I wish I had done all my babies this way. Bonding has been so easy and peaceful this time around and the breastfeeding down right easy compared with my other two. Well, we can't really count Isabella right? I couldn't have done it without my doula, bless her. She took some serious abuse from me the last 20 minutes or so, but she saved Husband from receiving it, which he greatly appreciated. Really, truly and honestly, the pain was only "unbearable" for 20-30 minutes max. Not bad right? Contractions aren't the hard part....it's transition that gets you. I didn't know I was in transition, I just knew that the pain was horrible and continuous and I wasn't sure how long I was going to have to endure that. Thank God, it was a short amount of time. I did scream for the epidural once or twice, but nobody listened to me (I had instructed everyone to NOT give in no matter how much I begged). Luckily, I couldn't have received one anyways, by the time I was yelling for it, I was dilated to 10 centimeters. Beautiful, just beautiful. I guess I should start growing my under arm hair out and call myself Hippie, huh? Oh, only kidding you hippies out there.
Rollie Pollie is doing so great, he is an awesome, inspiring joy in my life and I feel blessed to have him and the birth experience that came along with him. I feel so *empowered* and strong. It's that whole "I am woman, here me roar" , it's so cliche, but true! I'm unstoppable and now I know it. I can really do anything if I want it bad enough and believe hard enough. How incredible is that to finally realize your ability and own strength? Not that I have ever felt "weak" in life, but everyone wonders what they are really capable of. Yes, I want XYZ, but can I really do it?? Yeah, you can.
Enough of that. I'm off to snuggle my "booshee bear" (every kid I pop out gets their own unique array of nicknames, just whatever springs to my mind when I look at them) and Rollie Pollie is no different. For now it's "booshee bear" and I love it. Where it came from? The depths of my crazy mind is all I can tell you. He looks like a "booshee" whatever that is. Someone google that and get back to me! It'd be interesting to see what comes up. ;)
Oh, one more thing. Isabella, my darling, thank you for watching over us and your new little brother. I know you had a hand in this whole thing you beautiful girl and I love you so much. When I look at Rollie Pollie I am reminded of you everyday in the most precious of ways. Thanks for the healing process............
At 9 pm we decide to drive up to the hospital to see where I'm at and make a decision. Doula thinks we should just stay home, labor will start. I'm more concerned about infection risk (I had been super careful all day and checked my temp regularly just to be sure) so I want to go. We get there and endure more waiting. We get a non-stress test and the nurse freaks a little when she finds out my water has been broken for 16 hours and I'm just now strollin' in the doors. I tell her my temp is fine and baby has been moving fine. She's says "oooooookay" like I'm crazy. :)
Rollie Pollie looks good, they confirm my water has indeed broken (no kidding!) and say that my cervix is 3 centimeters dilated and I'm 60% effaced. Grrr. So the on call midwife (not MY midwife) wants to start me on pitocin immediately and get the baby out. I say "no thanks", but I WILL stay over night and let you monitor me until morning. She's OK with that and we decide to re-evaluate in the AM when it's been 24 hours post rupture.
So we get settled in our room and I try to sleep. SO not happening. All I can think is "C'mon body!!! Go into labor!!" My body has done this a time or two before so I'm completely confused as to why it won't just get it over with already! I really didn't want pitocin, I planned on a natural birth and didn't think I could do it with the pit. Those contractions HURT!
So it's 9 am on Tuesday. No labor. No promise of labor. I'm so bummed. And tired. So I consent to the pitocin. But only on the agreement that it would be increased very, very, very slowly and once my body got into a good productive pattern, nobody would touch it. All agreed, except our stupid nurse. (I could write a novel about this nurse, but I won't. Bascially, she sucked and we had two or three arguments, she had a few with my doula, my husband, my mom and the list goes on. She sucks.)
Anyways, pitocin gets started, husband and I start walking the halls of the womens center. We walk, I do the birthing ball, we walk more, I rest. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. So around noon things are starting to get hoppin' in my body thank goodness. If I remember correctly contractions were about 3-4 minutes apart. Nice! So I order some lunch because I'm starving......and since I'm going natural, I can eat! Yeah! Lunch arrives at 1pm and I have to inhale it between contractions which are about 2-3 minutes apart and getting intense. I'm having to really focus through them at this point and people in the room are starting to annoy me. We had LOTS or people. The whole extended fam PLUS Jackson.......who at this point needs a nap and is whining non-stop. So I order everyone except husband and doula out of the room. I can just sense that it's about to get all kinds of ugly. It's 2 pm now and I request to have my cervix checked (haven't had it checked since the night before because of the broken water) I am 5 cm and 80% effaced. It pisses me off a little (ok a lot) because I feel like I should be further along. I think to myself "I still have a couple of hours or so left". Nope.
So now it's 2:15 or so and I am not a happy serene girl anymore. All of a sudden my contractions are 1-2 minutes apart and they are not friendly contractions. They mean business. They want this baby out. I decide I want to get in the tub, I think it will feel good and I am right. It was wonderful. I decide to stay there. I am crying at this point (with tears and everything) and I remember looking at Husband at one point bawling saying "It hurts SO bad, it really does". He looks at me with sympathy but always says "you can do this". So we're in the tub. Now contractions are one on top of the other. I'm only getting about 30 seconds in between to rest and I'm basically spending that time dreading the next contraction. I'm getting panicked and start demanding an epidural. I am yelling at my doula and telling her I can't do it, blah blah blah. She of course just says "yes you can". So now she thinks I'm complete because I'm writhing around in the tub yelling my head off. Nurse checks me and like an idiot says "I can't find her cervix, where did it go??" She keeps fishing for it and I finally grab her hand out and say "that HURTS!" Doula informs her she cannot find my cervix because I'm fully dilated. Dummy.
Here is where I get really pissed off in a big hurry. My midwife informs us that we can't birth in the tub because we are banking Rollie Pollie's cord blood. So I have to get OUT OF THE TUB, dry off, change clothes and somehow WALK to the bed. I'm pissed. No, I'm furious. I'm in agony. I get up, with the help of big strong Husband of course. I'm freakin' nekkid from the waist down, standing in the bathroom while the nurse takes 5 MINUTES to figure out how to get my wet shirt off with me being hooked up the the IV pole. I start screaming at her to figure it out and just as I am about to rip out my IV she gets it. Idiot! (really, she was a nasty nurse, don't feel sorry for her.) So we get a dry shirt on me and I somehow make it to the bed where I colapse and start moaning and yelling again. My mom, mother in law and sister in law are in there at this point looking pretty horrified at my state of being......I'm sure it was a sight. So we are pushing. Excuse me, I'M pushing and it feels so darn good. Painful, but the best kind of pain. I push twice and out came my 5lb 15oz Rollie Pollie at 2:45 pm. I caught him myself and brought him up to my chest where he found the breast all by himself. (Yes, really) It was wonderful, beautiful, GLORIOUS. I wish I had done all my babies this way. Bonding has been so easy and peaceful this time around and the breastfeeding down right easy compared with my other two. Well, we can't really count Isabella right? I couldn't have done it without my doula, bless her. She took some serious abuse from me the last 20 minutes or so, but she saved Husband from receiving it, which he greatly appreciated. Really, truly and honestly, the pain was only "unbearable" for 20-30 minutes max. Not bad right? Contractions aren't the hard part....it's transition that gets you. I didn't know I was in transition, I just knew that the pain was horrible and continuous and I wasn't sure how long I was going to have to endure that. Thank God, it was a short amount of time. I did scream for the epidural once or twice, but nobody listened to me (I had instructed everyone to NOT give in no matter how much I begged). Luckily, I couldn't have received one anyways, by the time I was yelling for it, I was dilated to 10 centimeters. Beautiful, just beautiful. I guess I should start growing my under arm hair out and call myself Hippie, huh? Oh, only kidding you hippies out there.
Rollie Pollie is doing so great, he is an awesome, inspiring joy in my life and I feel blessed to have him and the birth experience that came along with him. I feel so *empowered* and strong. It's that whole "I am woman, here me roar" , it's so cliche, but true! I'm unstoppable and now I know it. I can really do anything if I want it bad enough and believe hard enough. How incredible is that to finally realize your ability and own strength? Not that I have ever felt "weak" in life, but everyone wonders what they are really capable of. Yes, I want XYZ, but can I really do it?? Yeah, you can.
Enough of that. I'm off to snuggle my "booshee bear" (every kid I pop out gets their own unique array of nicknames, just whatever springs to my mind when I look at them) and Rollie Pollie is no different. For now it's "booshee bear" and I love it. Where it came from? The depths of my crazy mind is all I can tell you. He looks like a "booshee" whatever that is. Someone google that and get back to me! It'd be interesting to see what comes up. ;)
Oh, one more thing. Isabella, my darling, thank you for watching over us and your new little brother. I know you had a hand in this whole thing you beautiful girl and I love you so much. When I look at Rollie Pollie I am reminded of you everyday in the most precious of ways. Thanks for the healing process............
Monday, November 5, 2007
Rollie Pollie is here!
He arrived October 23rd @ 2:45 pm weighing 5lbs 15oz, 18.5 inches long. Turns out I can make small babies if they come a little early........
When I actually have two free arms again, I'll tell all about the glorious birth (it really was). Until then, here is a picture of the newest man in my life (did I mention what a smitten kitten I am??)
Thursday, October 18, 2007
The countdown continues
So as of today I am 37 weeks pregnant. Boy howdy, do I feel every bit of it. I think if Rollie Pollie gets any lower he'll just hang an arm out and wave! He's moving less (for real, not paranoia) but I'm sure it's because he has just plain run out of room in my uterus. Those things only stretch to a point you know.....
The closer I get to giving birth, the more emotional I get about Isabella. I can hardly look at pictures of her right now without bursting into tears. Typically her pictures give me comfort, but lately they just break my heart. I was thinking the other day that I just gave birth to her 18 months ago. It seems completely unreal that I gave birth to my beautiful daughter, loved her, took care of her, lost her and am now about to give birth again. Turns out a lot can change in 18 months. It's scary if you really let yourself think about it........so try not to. :)
I'm so curious about Rollie Pollie, what he will look like and what he will be like. I cannot even let myself think about him begin healthy yet, I just can't. I am going into this expecting the worst, praying for the best. I guess I don't want to be blind-sighted like I was with Isabella all over again. Not like it really matters though. You think you can prepare yourself for certain tragedies in life, but trust me, you cannot. You can think about it all you want, convince yourself that your "OK" with it, but when it happens, it's a whole other ballgame. One that you are not prepared for in any way even though you've been training. There just isn't practice or preparation for life's little or big "oopsies". I often wonder why some people in life only get little "oopsies" and some get major "oopsies". Husband really gets fired up about it, he really thinks it's unfair how it's not spread out more evenly. I guess it's not really fair......but as the saying goes "Life ain't fair man!" We'll see when Rollie Pollie gets here. It feels so surreal to me at this point. I simply cannot imagine having a healthy baby. It hasn't happened in so long, it seems impossible. I pray and I pray hard and I guess that is all I can do.
Turkey is getting a little anxious I can tell, but seems pretty excited to meet his new little brother. They are sharing a room (at some point, since Rollie Pollie will room with me for a few months) and he's excited about that. Turkey is a natural big brother and is so compassionate because of his sister, he's just a neat kid. He makes me so proud everyday. Everyone, including Husband and I are going to do whatever it takes to make this transition as smooth as possible for our Turkey. He's had a rough 18 months as well, and I just want some stinkin' stability in his life! I don't want him to be crushed anymore......he's so young, I just want him to be happy and emotionally well and all that jazz. Hope I'm doing this whole thing right! There isn't a book for it! ;)
So at this point I am physically, emotionally, mentally EXHAUSTED. My body does not feel like the one of a 26 year old, it feels closer to that of a 90 year old woman. The pelvis has separated, the ligaments are stretched and the sciatic nerve has become Rollie Pollie's favorite resting spot. I need a break after this baby. A loooooooong, nice break. Time to get myself back in shape, in more ways than one. I'm looking forward to it, I've missed myself. I love being a mother, I love giving birth and bringing new life into the world. It's the most noble of jobs I believe. I just haven't had the typical journey so many others get and I need some time to get back together again. And then, who knows? Maybe another little one in our future? I cannot say now, I just need that break :)
So if you think of it, and you're the praying type, remember us and Rollie Pollie will ya? Thanks :)
The closer I get to giving birth, the more emotional I get about Isabella. I can hardly look at pictures of her right now without bursting into tears. Typically her pictures give me comfort, but lately they just break my heart. I was thinking the other day that I just gave birth to her 18 months ago. It seems completely unreal that I gave birth to my beautiful daughter, loved her, took care of her, lost her and am now about to give birth again. Turns out a lot can change in 18 months. It's scary if you really let yourself think about it........so try not to. :)
I'm so curious about Rollie Pollie, what he will look like and what he will be like. I cannot even let myself think about him begin healthy yet, I just can't. I am going into this expecting the worst, praying for the best. I guess I don't want to be blind-sighted like I was with Isabella all over again. Not like it really matters though. You think you can prepare yourself for certain tragedies in life, but trust me, you cannot. You can think about it all you want, convince yourself that your "OK" with it, but when it happens, it's a whole other ballgame. One that you are not prepared for in any way even though you've been training. There just isn't practice or preparation for life's little or big "oopsies". I often wonder why some people in life only get little "oopsies" and some get major "oopsies". Husband really gets fired up about it, he really thinks it's unfair how it's not spread out more evenly. I guess it's not really fair......but as the saying goes "Life ain't fair man!" We'll see when Rollie Pollie gets here. It feels so surreal to me at this point. I simply cannot imagine having a healthy baby. It hasn't happened in so long, it seems impossible. I pray and I pray hard and I guess that is all I can do.
Turkey is getting a little anxious I can tell, but seems pretty excited to meet his new little brother. They are sharing a room (at some point, since Rollie Pollie will room with me for a few months) and he's excited about that. Turkey is a natural big brother and is so compassionate because of his sister, he's just a neat kid. He makes me so proud everyday. Everyone, including Husband and I are going to do whatever it takes to make this transition as smooth as possible for our Turkey. He's had a rough 18 months as well, and I just want some stinkin' stability in his life! I don't want him to be crushed anymore......he's so young, I just want him to be happy and emotionally well and all that jazz. Hope I'm doing this whole thing right! There isn't a book for it! ;)
So at this point I am physically, emotionally, mentally EXHAUSTED. My body does not feel like the one of a 26 year old, it feels closer to that of a 90 year old woman. The pelvis has separated, the ligaments are stretched and the sciatic nerve has become Rollie Pollie's favorite resting spot. I need a break after this baby. A loooooooong, nice break. Time to get myself back in shape, in more ways than one. I'm looking forward to it, I've missed myself. I love being a mother, I love giving birth and bringing new life into the world. It's the most noble of jobs I believe. I just haven't had the typical journey so many others get and I need some time to get back together again. And then, who knows? Maybe another little one in our future? I cannot say now, I just need that break :)
So if you think of it, and you're the praying type, remember us and Rollie Pollie will ya? Thanks :)
Sunday, October 14, 2007
36 weeks.............
Ah, we have arrived. It's time for Rollie Pollie to come, whenever he is ready. I'm surprisingly calm right now, which is unusual for me at this point in any of my pregnancies. Typically I get really nervous nelly right about now about the delivery, my baby, handling things, etc. You would think I'd be going really crazy, considering I've never had a baby after losing a child......perhaps it hasn't hit me yet. Perhaps I'm avoiding really thinking about it. Perhaps. I have had some moments........a bumpy spot here or there, but then I start breathing and realize things will be OK, they just have to be. How I'm still an optimistic person after the year and a half I've had is really beyond me at this point. Just go with it.
I met my new midwife a couple of weeks ago and I really like her. She is *exactly* what I would envision a midwife to be. Calm, serene, peaceful, a little hippyish (but not in a kooky, no way are you delivering my baby kind of way!) She's nice and competent, completely competent (MOM!). Yeah, my mom is a little nervous about all of this...........ok, ok, she's downright skeptical about my choices. She can't really help it though, she's an RN and *very* medical. I'm not, that's where we differ. She knows I'm intelligent and that I wouldn't do anything stupid so she is trusting me. I think she just doesn't want to see me in pain, and who can blame her. I watched my daughter suffer daily, and it ain't pretty. I miss my Princess........... I miss her so much I can hardly breathe some days.
So maybe I am a little nervous and maybe I don't really want to imagine the worst anymore. I have already lived through the worst and I would just like to pretend like it's over and happier times lay ahead. I don't want to think that I may get to live my worst twice...........or more. Does that happen to people? I really hope not. So hopefully things will turn out just fine this time. Rollie Pollie will be healthy and happy and never have a seizure. A girl can hope right? A girl can pray and a girl can hold out for happiness.
Well, wish me luck in the next 3-4 weeks, as I will have a new, beautiful boy in my life and times will be crazy around here once again. It's felt pretty lonely around here without my darling Isabella and although Rollie Pollie will never replace her, it will be nice to have a baby in the house again.
I'm off to "nest", you can only organize linens so many times, right?
I met my new midwife a couple of weeks ago and I really like her. She is *exactly* what I would envision a midwife to be. Calm, serene, peaceful, a little hippyish (but not in a kooky, no way are you delivering my baby kind of way!) She's nice and competent, completely competent (MOM!). Yeah, my mom is a little nervous about all of this...........ok, ok, she's downright skeptical about my choices. She can't really help it though, she's an RN and *very* medical. I'm not, that's where we differ. She knows I'm intelligent and that I wouldn't do anything stupid so she is trusting me. I think she just doesn't want to see me in pain, and who can blame her. I watched my daughter suffer daily, and it ain't pretty. I miss my Princess........... I miss her so much I can hardly breathe some days.
So maybe I am a little nervous and maybe I don't really want to imagine the worst anymore. I have already lived through the worst and I would just like to pretend like it's over and happier times lay ahead. I don't want to think that I may get to live my worst twice...........or more. Does that happen to people? I really hope not. So hopefully things will turn out just fine this time. Rollie Pollie will be healthy and happy and never have a seizure. A girl can hope right? A girl can pray and a girl can hold out for happiness.
Well, wish me luck in the next 3-4 weeks, as I will have a new, beautiful boy in my life and times will be crazy around here once again. It's felt pretty lonely around here without my darling Isabella and although Rollie Pollie will never replace her, it will be nice to have a baby in the house again.
I'm off to "nest", you can only organize linens so many times, right?
Sunday, October 7, 2007
It's a small world afterall
So, this last week I decided it was time to get my hair cut again. I had not had my hair cut since last February (yes, really) and it was indeed time. I have neglected myself sorely these last two years, but for a better cause. Anyways, my hair. So I don't have a stylist anymore (mine became too popular and you have to schedule your appointments out a year in advance. Right, like I know what my crazy life will be like in a YEAR!) Last Monday I just went through several salon websites just trying to decide which I would pick to entrust my hair too (it's a really big deal you see) and I finally land on one in particular about 30 minutes away from me. I had no idea why I picked this one, I just did. So I call and tell them to just give me whoever, I don't care.
Yesterday, the big day arrived. New hair......new me? I was so very excited! There is nothing like getting your hair cut and I usually always do something different every time I go. I get bored easily.........hard to believe eh? Well, I meet my new girl and she seems really nice and I'm happy. She starts washing my hair, we start chatting. She had a picture of a sweet three month old little boy at her booth and we chatted about him and she told me he was adopted. I thought that was really neat, because for some reason I've always been attracted to the idea of adoption even though I am walking breeding machine. Then she asked the dreaded question: "How many kids do you have?" Oh how I have come to loathe this question. At first, after Isabella passed I would immediately say "Two, but my daughter just passed away, I am pregnant with #3". Well, this warranted lots of ill advice, comments, or even CRYING from complete strangers. *sigh* So now I never know what to say. So, yesterday I just decided to not say anything about Isabella dying and said "I have two, this my third". She says "how old?" Ugh! I lie and say "three and 14 months" (that's how old she was when she passed away, she's frozen in that age I guess.) Then something very interesting happens. She decides to ask me where I'm going to deliver. I tell her and ask where she delivered forgetting she had adopted. She immediately said "I had my baby at Baptist." We both paused. Hm. Then she says "well, I should just be honest, I lost my daughter in April". I couldn't believe it! I immediately said "well, this may sound crazy but I lost MY daughter in May, I just didn't know if I should say anything". We both kind of laughed (like an awkward laugh, not HAHA laugh.) I asked what happened to her daughter. She goes on to tell me that her daughter was 9 months old when she passed and had been born with a rare genetic condition that they just discovered last week from her autopsy. Whoa. So I tell her about Isabella and her rare genetic condition (damn these rare genetic conditions!!!! Don't they know they are wrecking people's lives here??) Then I mention that Isabella died at home, because she was in Hospice. Well, so was her daughter. Which hospice? THE SAME HOSPICE AS ISABELLA! Now, that may not seem all together that strange, however, the pieces started fitting for me. I knew all about her daughter! My hospice nurse had been telling me for months about this sweet girl, because she had a lot of the same issues as Isabella, but no diagnosis. I begin telling this chick all about her daughter and her mouth is hanging open like "how do you know this stuff???". So, yeah, we had been hearing about each other and now here we are MEETING in a huge city. Odd. But wonderful!!!! Her daughter was on all the same medications as Isabella and we laughed about that. Shared memories, hugged, laughed, it was magical. Really. I can't help but wonder if I was supposed to meet her and vice versa.
Well, that's my nice story for the week :) I've got some thoughts coming on Rollie Pollie's impending birth, but I'm tired. (carrying a huge fetus does that to a girl!)
To be continued............
Yesterday, the big day arrived. New hair......new me? I was so very excited! There is nothing like getting your hair cut and I usually always do something different every time I go. I get bored easily.........hard to believe eh? Well, I meet my new girl and she seems really nice and I'm happy. She starts washing my hair, we start chatting. She had a picture of a sweet three month old little boy at her booth and we chatted about him and she told me he was adopted. I thought that was really neat, because for some reason I've always been attracted to the idea of adoption even though I am walking breeding machine. Then she asked the dreaded question: "How many kids do you have?" Oh how I have come to loathe this question. At first, after Isabella passed I would immediately say "Two, but my daughter just passed away, I am pregnant with #3". Well, this warranted lots of ill advice, comments, or even CRYING from complete strangers. *sigh* So now I never know what to say. So, yesterday I just decided to not say anything about Isabella dying and said "I have two, this my third". She says "how old?" Ugh! I lie and say "three and 14 months" (that's how old she was when she passed away, she's frozen in that age I guess.) Then something very interesting happens. She decides to ask me where I'm going to deliver. I tell her and ask where she delivered forgetting she had adopted. She immediately said "I had my baby at Baptist." We both paused. Hm. Then she says "well, I should just be honest, I lost my daughter in April". I couldn't believe it! I immediately said "well, this may sound crazy but I lost MY daughter in May, I just didn't know if I should say anything". We both kind of laughed (like an awkward laugh, not HAHA laugh.) I asked what happened to her daughter. She goes on to tell me that her daughter was 9 months old when she passed and had been born with a rare genetic condition that they just discovered last week from her autopsy. Whoa. So I tell her about Isabella and her rare genetic condition (damn these rare genetic conditions!!!! Don't they know they are wrecking people's lives here??) Then I mention that Isabella died at home, because she was in Hospice. Well, so was her daughter. Which hospice? THE SAME HOSPICE AS ISABELLA! Now, that may not seem all together that strange, however, the pieces started fitting for me. I knew all about her daughter! My hospice nurse had been telling me for months about this sweet girl, because she had a lot of the same issues as Isabella, but no diagnosis. I begin telling this chick all about her daughter and her mouth is hanging open like "how do you know this stuff???". So, yeah, we had been hearing about each other and now here we are MEETING in a huge city. Odd. But wonderful!!!! Her daughter was on all the same medications as Isabella and we laughed about that. Shared memories, hugged, laughed, it was magical. Really. I can't help but wonder if I was supposed to meet her and vice versa.
Well, that's my nice story for the week :) I've got some thoughts coming on Rollie Pollie's impending birth, but I'm tired. (carrying a huge fetus does that to a girl!)
To be continued............
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
The Patch
It's amazing to me how fast a year can go by and how many things can change in that year. I have really learned that lesson hard and fast since Isabella was born. This last weekend was a doozie, because we went to the Orr Family Farm ( a local family fun type place where you take a hayride and pick your own sugar pumpkin, lot's of fun!) Why was that hard? Well, for a couple of reasons. One, it's always hard when we do something fun as a family now, because a certain somebody is missing. When you're having fun, it's glaringly obvious for some reason. The second reason it was tough is because last year we were all dressed and headed out the door, ready for the Orr Family Farm and Matt decided to just stay home with Isabella because she was having one of her "bad" days. (bad days included lots of arching, crying, reflux, seizures, etc.) We tried to always ask ourselves "Is Isabella going to have FUN?" If the answer was "no", we split up. So Jackson and I went solo, had a good time and I comforted myself by saying "No big deal, she'll come with us next year for sure." Hm. Perhaps not though. Once again, it's funny how life changes in a year. Or maybe it's not so funny.....
My aunt lost her daughter in a terrible car wreck 10 years ago.....my cousin. It was horrible and I talk to her often about how to cope. The other day it struck me that she has been living without her daughter for 10 years. Yes, she's been happy and she has moved on in her own life, which is what healthy people do, but still, 10 years without her child. It made me so incredibly sad to think that at some point I will be able so say "it's been 10 years....." It just doesn't seem real to me.....yes, still. I know it's only been four months since she passed away, but I wonder when it will be real to me. Maybe it will never seem real......only time will tell. There is just the huge hole in my heart as cliche as that sounds, and there is nothing that can fill it. Well, except Isabella, and let's face it, that isn't going to happen.
There are mornings, like this one, when I wake up and out of the blue it really hits me what's missing. Isabella. I will look at the clock and realize she would be waking up right now and I would go into her room and say "goodmorning Princess!!!!" She was always so happy in the mornings and alert. It was one of my favorite times. I would change her diaper and we would "talk" for a while and I would kiss her all over. Then I would feed her the morning cocktail of drugs that kept her going and soon after the light would go out. Oh how I hated those stupid drugs. They stole my baby from me everyday, but she had to have them to survive. Without them she would just have one seizure after another until her heart gave out. Or regurgitate acid all day, or have all of her muscles completely stiff and immobile. My poor girl. It's so incredibly hard to watch your child, your precious child that you love so much suffer every.single.day and there is very little you can do about it. I would have given anything to have taken it from her. I still would today. I wish we had that option in life, don't you? When Isabella passed away, it only took me two days to get rid of her plethora of medications. I hated them and couldn't wait to have them out of my house. My kitchen window had looked like Walgreens for 14 months! They were a painful reminder of her suffering here on earth, and I needed to be surrounded by the positives of her life.
I guess this is going to be a doozie week, not just a day. That's OK I suppose, I have to get it out when I can.
Husband and I feel so sorry for Turkey, as he lost a sister and lost a sister when he is so young and fragile. I hope we are doing things right and helping him the way we are supposed to, but who really knows, right? Turkey did do something really cute yesterday, I love how children's minds work. He came up to me yesterday with my cell phone (his new favorite toy) and said "Look Mama! Isabella is in your PHONE!" (my wallpaper is a picture I took of her at the park a month before she passed) I said "Oh my goodness she sure is!" He continued to walk around the house and look at her and show her things throughout the house. I thought it was very cute. Well, about a half hour later he says "look, look! now Isabella is showing me the house! I can see you and me and anything I want with the PHONE!". Ok, now I'm really laughing. Turkey somehow pressed the "camera" button and was amazed that wherever he pointed the phone he had "live shots"! He was totally convinced Isabella was in the phone and doing all of this just for him. What a stinker. I didn't correct him and just said "Isabella loves you very much." You know what he said? "Of course she does". :) Talk about counting your blessings......
So, this year the pumpkin patch was a little sad, (ok really sad) and that's alright. We took our three small pumpkins and decorated Isabella's grave (I hate that word!) so it looks nice and festive out there. Maybe next year the pumpkin patch will be better, or maybe it will take 5 years for it to feel better. Either way, I know Isabella is with us and having fun right along side us. We just have to quit feeling sorry for ourselves to see it. Someday...................
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