Goodbye Diapers

Today is the fifth day since my sweet daughter officially became a panty-wearer. It's the third day since her last accident. I am so proud for her. She is loving being able to handle her potty business without my help, she just lets me know when she's finished so I can empty the bowl for her. I was a nervous wreck when she insisted on wearing panties to school Monday, but she has done fantastic.

I don't know what exactly pushed her off the diaper cliff into a pile of princess, dog, frog, duck, kitty, Dora, and Sponge Bob panties, but I'm glad she finally made the leap. We have had numerous conversations during which I've told her that if she doesn't want me to change her diaper she needs to be wearing panties and using the potty. We have read Diapers Are Not Forever countless times. Then Grandmother had what might have been the eye-opening conversation with her when she pointed out that I don't wear diapers and neither to any of the other grown people in her life. It was that afternoon that she started wearing panties full-time, except for overnight. The first night, when I put the diaper on her at bedtime, she had a fit because she didn't want to wear it and she waddled around the house trying not to let it touch her.

It will be a while before I will let her wear panties at bedtime because she's not staying dry overnight yet, and she only wakes up after she pees in the diaper. However, we've put a new routine in place where she must use the potty as soon as she gets up in the morning. Two out of three mornings I've had to bodily put her there and make her sit, but she did it. Why do kids hate using the bathroom first thing in the morning? She tells me she doesn't need to. As if. I know that if the diaper doesn't weigh five pounds, she still has to pee.

The pooping still needs work, but she - WE - are working on it. She did try to poop in the potty last night as I read a large stack of books to her (which gave me flashbacks to potty training with my brother), but we finally opted for a diaper because she just couldn't make it happen and supper was on hold because Luke was requiring Dave to play with him. We will just keeping practicing that part until she gets it.

In other EGR news, she is practicing for a Christmas musical at school. I have no idea what song she is learning, but I do hear her saying "Hallelujah" occasionally and she's been reading to her babies/students about a newborn king. She found some Little People farm characters and she's pretending they are the baby Jesus. I think she's ready for me to bring out her Nativity set - which I can't wait to do, the day after Thanksgiving.

The H. Luke Update
Luker is up to his usual antics of cooing, talking, smiling, and flirting with everyone. He fusses at me in the evenings if he hears Dave come in but I don't hand him over to him. He does look forward to seeing his Daddy. He sat in the basement with Dave and I while we worked on Project Christmas over the weekend and I set him up in the bouncy seat with a musical walker toy in front of him. That child figured out that he could kick the walker and make the music play. He's wearing some 6 month sized clothes and they fit him all too well.

Reflux Part Deux

EGR visited the allergist this week and we found out that her reflux is a probable cause of her chronic sinusitis. The doctor offered an upper GI study, but I opted for a trial on the medicine instead. I see no reason to subject her to that test when we know she has it and she's been medicated for it before. She is now taking Prevacid once a day, and because the pharmaceutical world obviously thinks it's funny to watch harried mothers give young children medicine, I have to break open the capsules and sprinkle the granules on her food or in her drink. Yeah right. I put it her drink the first day and after one sip she said, "Mama, what's in my teeth?" I told her it was surprise. She didn't argue, and eventually the granules do dissolve so she just drinks it down. When she was on Prevacid as a baby, she ate chewable tablets. Do you think they still make those? Of course not. That would be too easy to administer. I really have beef with the pharmaceutical industry. It should just be easier to give kids medicine. Anything nasty tasting should be administered via a patch between the shoulder blades - especially narcotic pain medicine. Why should they have to suffer because it tastes bad and you can't reason with a toddler? Sorry, I'm ranting.

She no longer has to take the antihistamine the pediatrician prescribed, but now she's taking Singulair instead. It is a very tasty chewable tablet, so bedtime medicine got slightly easier in that regard. Unfortunately, she still has to use her Flonase, but I only have to do one spray in each nostril instead of two. Oh, and I should point it to the side of her nose, not straight up and down - making it that much more difficult to administer it to a wiggling child. The allergist told me to do it after she falls asleep. I gave it a try; she jumped right up after the first spray. Why does nose spray have to be sprayed so accurately?

We have a follow up appointment in two weeks, and she'll be having allergy skin testing done that day. I did get reassurance from the nurse that it's needle-less, but it will still be a bunch of scratches with little plastic sticks. I started praying last night that she'll be cooperative that day because it will be very traumatic, even without needles, if I have to hold her down for it. The whole process lasts only 10 minutes, but any mother knows how very long 10 minutes can be.

My gut tells me that the reflux is the cause. It's something that's been tickling my mind for weeks, so I'm happy to be treating it again. Her sleep has already improved dramatically after two days of new medicine. I'm quite sure reflux is the reason she sometimes cannot make her "mouth be still."

The H. Luke Update
H. Luke is three months old today. We are running into a pesky problem with that one. He's bored, but he is still a bit too wobbly on the top to put him in the Exersaucer or Johhny Jump Up. For now, I'm putting him in the high chair with a tray full of toys to work on putting in his mouth. It does keep him occupied for a while. The real issue is that he wants to be down in the floor doing what Ella does. His very favorite thing is when she interacts with him, even if she's taking things away or not being nice. He doesn't care, he just loves her attention. Yesterday, he sat up in my lap, holding my fingers for balance, and had a tea party with her and the babies.

I'm so tired of snot.

My snot, Ella's snot, Luke's snot, even Dave has snot. I'm tired of wiping it, blowing it, sucking it, and medicating it. When will it end? The amount of medicine Ella is taking right now is ridiculous. Last night she came into the kitchen as I was preparing her drugs and just started picking up syringes and trying to take it herself - four of them and nose spray. And, by the way, giving nose spray to a 2 year old is not a fun chore. She hates it, I hate it, and half of the time it goes in her eye as she turns her head while I spray it. Grrr.

Then...Then she goes to bed and just as she's falling asleep, she starts coughing and she has so much gunk in her throat and she coughs so hard that she throws up. Poor kid.

I spent so much time at the doctor's office during my maternity leave, I feel like we need to add the pediatrician to our Christmas card list. She's on her fourth round of antibiotics since mid-September and I just got a call from preschool to pick her up because she's running a fever and coughing too hard to sleep. We have an appointment with an allergist tomorrow for allergy testing, but I'm skeptical. She's been taking allergy medicine every night for weeks and I can't see that it's doing anything.

I think I might go pull my hair out now.

Back in the Grind

Maternity leave is officially over and I am back at work today. So far, I've been very productive. I've socialized, put in my vacation requests for the rest of the year, and pumped 8 oz. of milk. Shortly, I'll go find out what form my work torture will assume, but for now, I'm updating this blog while I have access.

The leaving wasn't as hard this time as it was with Ella. In part because I've been leaving her for two years, and in other part because Luke is just different than her. I don't have the intense worry about how he will handle being away from me like I did with her. I miss his cuddly little self already, but I don't fear that he's screaming his head off in my absence. He laughed and talked all the way to Grandmother's house this morning and he gave me a giant grin when I kissed him goodbye.

EGR was completely excited to get back in the routine. The first thing she said when she became aware that I was dressing her awake was, "We are going to Grandmother's house?" She disappeared as soon as we got there, but she did spare a moment to blow me a kiss and say, "Bye, Mom" as I walked out the door. My, how she has grown up. I really can't even call her a toddler anymore. Preschooler is much more accurate.

The morning was amazingly smooth. EGR came to my room and went back to sleep before I got up to shower and H. Luke woke up at the same time, ate, and went back to sleep. I woke them both up in time to dress them and roll them out of bed and into the car. The beds aren't made, but the kitchen is clean and I didn't forget anything so I'll call it a success.

Bits of Fun

Today, I noticed some blue Bic scribbling on the wall in my living room. The likely culprit was sitting in the floor reading her books, so I asked her what it was. I expected to hear something about how Big Baby did it, but as usual, she surprised me when she matter-of-factly stated, "A snake." I laughed. Hard.

Some amusing person put little tubs of Play-Doh in the treat bags at her class party last week, so of course when she found it she needed to play with it. I've been limiting it to the table on the porch for now, but then I realized that there is a beautiful thing about Play-Doh. It's technically a food product. She has given it a taste and spit it out, but Sweet Georgia Brown doesn't care that it's virtually tasteless, she eats it because it's food. I don't think EGR has realized that it is slowly disappearing. Now that I've got someone else to clean it up, I'll be a little more willing to let her play with it in the house. Then I'll check the yard for technicolor poop.

The H. Luke Update
H. Luke is happy as ever, and maybe even happier now that he's figured out how to get the trunk of his little stuffed elephant into his mouth for chewing. He's been working hard at it for about a week, and he finally got it yesterday. I swear the kid is teething already.

Happy Halloween

I think, in an effort to not celebrate Halloween on Sunday, we (Collective we, not me specifically because I think it's a load of dookie to trick or treat on Saturday just because Halloween is on Sunday, but that's a post for another day.) successfully stretched it into 3 days of observation. I'm glad it's over. I've had enough tantrums brought about by too much sugar, too little routine, and too little sleep. By Friday afternoon, we had a pink scull ("It's not scary") full of candy and three treat bags. We had also seen a giant chicken walking up and down Main street and had many discussions about whether the chicken would hurt her. I think she was too worried about the chicken to notice the very scary masks that kept passing by our stroller. However, by Sunday she had forgotten about the chicken and was slighty terrified of the Cat in the Hat. That did not make my life easier.

This picture sums up the evening.

This was the first picture of the afternoon. Just look at them. They look like they are about to wreak havoc on the world.

Next year, I have to think up something calm and happy for thier costumes because these ended up being a self-fulfilling prophesy. I could not get them back in thier box fast enough.

Maybe they'll be snails. Or sloths.

I Stink.

I got a fresh perm in my hair yesterday and when I got to Grandmother's house to pick up my sweet children I was greeted with a less than warm welcome. EGR ran up to me and stopped short a few feet away. She lifted her nose into the air, took a big sniff and backed away. She wouldn't come near me and if I tried to get close to her she moved away. This went on most of the evening, along with lots of discussion about why I stunk.

I had a feeling bedtime would be challenging because of my smelliness. I laid down next to her, keeping as much distance between us as possible. She kept scooting to the opposite edge of the bed. She wiggled and flopped and yawned until I finally asked her if she would like for Daddy to snuggle her since he wasn't stinky. She said yes, so I called him in. He cuddled her close and talked to her about my stinkiness. As if I weren't even in the room, she told him, "I don't want she to stink." She did ask me to sing Bingo to her and she finally fell asleep.

Later, Dave told me I smelled like I'd been in some kind of nuclear reaction but my hair was pretty. I'm still trying to accept that as a compliment. Personal stink is my weakness. I can barely tolerate others' stink (I wonder where my daughter gets it from?) and I work hard to not be stinky. Telling me I stink might be one of the best ways to insult me and make me feel self-conscious so it's no surprise that I woke up this morning with a small complex and nearly washed out my new curls before it was time. Instead I just pulled them into a ponytail and persevered. Tomorrow, clean hair.

In other news.. last night while Ella was running naked after her bath she told me she was going to potty standing up like a boy. Being unable to follow up on that bit of information because I had an actual naked boy on the changing table, I called in Dave for back up. When he got to the bathroom, she had already peed a gallon in her little potty, dumped it in the big potty, opened the cabinet and got a wipe, wiped her bottom and threw the wipe away and she instructed him how to transform the potty chair into a step so she could wash her hands. All by herself.

This morning I woke up to the noise of Luke making his morning poop. He was studying the ceiling in concentration. I leaned over him and said, "Hey!" and he answered me with a giant smile. Smiling wake ups are so much more pleasant than screaming ones.

Have I told you about Big Baby?

Because one of the reasons I write this blog is to document my children's lives (I'm not good at filling in blanks in the baby books), I would be negligent if I did not write about Big Baby. I'm not talking about the Toy Story 3 character. Nope, Disney-Pixar really owes me money for that one, but I probably won't pursue it. I'm talking about the original Big Baby.

She came into my life circa 1984-ish as a Christmas gift (I think). At the time, she was nearly as big as me and looked very real - more real than she looks now with her floppy head and wonky eye. What can I say? She's nearly 30 and gravity is getting the best of her. From the time I met her she was full of mischief. She once kicked a jar of dill pickles off the shelf on aisle 3 in old Lucky's, and she's still up to mischief today. While I was pregnant with Ella, I used her to practice tying my wrap and putting a baby in it.

Ella inherited her sometime when she became interested in dolls. I encouraged her to name her, but she was, is and always will be Big Baby. All at once and separately she is Ella's daughter, grandaughter, student, babysitting charge, and alternate reality. She acts out her world on Big Baby and she uses her to process all that is happening around her. If you hang around long enough, you will hear her talk about Big Baby and all the things she does. She often uses my cell phone to call Big Baby's mama. Big Baby currently has a sinus infection and her ear hurts. She has to wash Big Baby's jacket because she throws up on it. She drops Big Baby off at her grandmother's house and picks her up after work. Big Baby has a cat named Cripsy who kills rabbits, mice, chipmunks, and turtles. She might be the only one who speaks Ella's other language - the one she reverts to when you ask a question she doesn't want to answer or when she just gets too tied up in her story to slow down and use the English words she knows. Big Baby does everything she does and some things she wishes she could do.

Without further ado, meet Big Baby, who is currently wearing Luke's hand-me-downs.

The Vomit Chronicles: Second Installment

I said I would write about spit up, and I'll try to include that here, but there have been more vomitous episodes since my last post so I thought I'd just prove how normal vomit is in our lives.

Last week, Luke was strapped down on the changing table, watching the animals sing and dance above him when suddenly a small geyser erupted out of him. Puke shot into the air and over the side of the table into the baby bed. I had to change all the bedding and, in moving the bed to take off the bumpers, I also found a large puddle on the floor. It must have run down the crack between the changing table (which also got scrubbed) and the bed. The poor kid looked at me with eyes the clearly said, "What the bleep was that?"

Tonight, bedtime with Ella was perfect. Daddy said goodnight early so she didn't get wound up while we read our story. The lights were out, she finished her milk, and we were working through the wiggling phase. I had reminded her couple of times to be still. She coughed. I was on alert. Then she said, "Mommy, I can't make my mouth be still." And threw up all over the bed. What must she have thought when I squealed and jumped out of reach? Okay, I didn't squeal. I'm more seasoned than that.

We went straight to the tub, her freaking out, Luke screaming because she was freaking out. Dave stripped the bed and grabbed Luke from his bed and I stripped the girlchild and bathed her. Again. She was already telling me she wouldn't throw up on Minnie - meaning her Minnie Mouse pajamas that she was about to put on since she had thrown up on her dog 'jamas. I asked if not being able to make her "mouth be still" is what it feels like when she is about to throw up. She said it is, and she also said she felt better and she could make it be still now. Let's hope so. I think we'd both like the clean Dora sheets and Minnie 'jamas to stay clean tonight.

Spit up - let's just leave it at Luke has a t-shirt he obviously doesn't like because he spits up on it as soon as I put it on him. Every time. And, it's not the milky kind of spit up that doesn't really stink. No, it's the yucky, half-processed, curdled milk spit up that reeks.

There you have it. Now, go and enjoy your kids who have control of their bodily functions.

He's Big. He's Big and He's Strong.

Luke had his 2 month check up yesterday. He weighed in at 12 lbs. 4 oz. and he was 24 1/4 inches long. Unbelievably, coming from two short parents, he's in the 90-95% for his length. He's a full 2 lbs. heavier and 2 inches longer than his sister was at this age. He showed the doctor his trick of standing on his own two feet, which led the doctor to comment that he will probably walk early. I'm not sure I'm happy about that prospect; I know I'm not ready for him to grow up so fast.

He cried a cry I've never heard before when they gave him the four shots, and then he just stopped and he was fine. I couldn't believe it. He did have sore legs and a tummy ache last night, but seems to be doing just fine today. He went to my doctor's appointment with me this morning and flirted with the nurses. They loved his one-dimpled smile.
These are my sweet sleeping babies. I love it when they sleep later than me.

You can see in this picture that EGR is like a heat-seeking missile when she's sleeping. As soon as I moved from my spot between them, she found him and snuggled up.

Here he is snoozing on the couch like his father.

Quotes from Around the House

"Goldfish." - Ella, muttered sleepily when Dave kissed her goodbye at 5:45 this morning. She always knows when he has food, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

"I love that Daddy. He's a sweet Daddy." - Ella, when I told her she had snuggled up with Daddy during the night.

"I don't wike trains." - Ella, this morning when we finally got to school after driving all over Calera to get around the train that was blocking our crossing. She was mad because the carpool line was over and I had to walk her inside.

"There is not a mouse in my shirt!" - Me, when Ella freaked out while cuddling at bedtime last night.

"Don't drink the water!" - Dave, to Luke while he was bathing him. Luke tries to catch the drips from the rag in his mouth.

Moments That Make It Worth It

Many days, sometimes many moments of many days, EGR's two-ness gets the best of me. The bull-headedness, the tantrums, the general disagreement with everything - in other words, her completely normal toddlerhood, just wears me down sometimes. But there are those moments that make it worth the struggle. Moments that melt my heart or just plain amuse me. These are a few recent ones.

I've been trying to praise her specifically for things she does that I like. For example, I might tell her, "I had a good day shopping with you today. Thank you for holding my hand while we walked in the parking lot and saying goodbye to the baby dolls when it was time to leave." This has led to her praising me, and it's so sweet. She tells me, "Thank you for having a good week with me, Mama." Once, upon parking in our driveway, she said, "Good job driving, Mom."

I recently painted her toenails pink at her request. A few days later she asked me to paint my toenails pink to match hers. I did, and now she tells me, "Thanks for painting your toenails pink like mine, Mom."

I think the best compliment I've received lately came from her. The child thinks everything stinks, and makes no bones about pronouncing things stinky - including me. I've never heard her say anything smelled good, until the other night. I was cuddling her at bed time and she turned her head into my neck and took a big sniff. I laid there waiting for her to tell me I stunk (because she has before), but she said in her sleepy voice, "You smell good, Mommy." I was so proud, I bragged about it to Dave.

We've been working hard on manners, so I've really been modeling them for her when I make requests or when she does what I ask of her. This results in lots of spontaneous "thank yous" and gradually more "pleases". It has also led to the most polite disagreement I've ever heard. When I ask her to do something she doesn't want to do, she'll respond with "No, ma'am!"

The other morning, I left her sitting with Luke at the breakfast table and when I came back into the room I overheard her talking to him. I don't know what all she said, but I heard her tell him, "There she is Wuke. Mommy's back now."

She has nicknamed her brother "Luker" which she pronounces "Wuker." It through me for a woop, I mean a loop, the first time I heard it.

Just this morning, she was trying to convince me to let her wear her black Mary Jane shoes to school. She knows that she has to wear tennis shoes so she can play on the playground, so when I told her she had to wear tennis shoes today, she told me the playground had moved to someone else's house. I had to bite my jaw to stop the laughter. I also have to give her credit for formulaing what would have been a very logical argument, had it been true.

H. Luke can't talk yet - well, not intelligible words anyway - but he makes it worth it when he smiles his toothless, one-dimple smile at me.

The Teething Fairy

The Teething Fairy visited us last night. Please do not confuse her with her sweet sister, The Tooth Fairy. She doesn't bring gifts and take teeth. No, she brings teeth and bad dreams of mice and bugs and lizards and things.

Last night, her plague of choice was a mouse. A mouse was in Ella's bed and I could not convince her otherwise. When I went into her room, she was screaming and running for the door. I couldn't even get her back in the bed. I turned on the light, ripped back the sheets and shook out the pillows to prove to her that there was no mouse. I think I said that phrase a thousand times. Once the light was off again, every lump and wrinkle in the blankets was a mouse.

I tried another tactic. We went to the laundry room for the fly swatter to kill the mouse. I swatted and swatted and swatted the bed everywhere she saw the mouse. She was still worried, so I called the cat in to sleep with her. I finally had to just put her back in there and cuddle her to sleep. That was no easy feat as she kept twitching and waking herself up each time she fell asleep. So, I invented a technique I call the Hand Swaddle where I held her hands and feet in my hands until she was asleep.

When I finally left her an hour after I went in there, she was sleeping tucked in with the fly swatter on one side and the cat on the other. My husband, my sweet sweet husband, thought it was hilarious when I explained all that had happened in the last hour. All I could think was, "I hope she uses that fly swatter to kill that stinking fairy."

The Pumpkin Patch

Ella had her first field trip last Friday to the pumpkin patch. Although the day started with vomit (Yes, yes, it did. As we turned into the parking lot, the car sickness she was holding at bay got the best of her.) and it ended up being 100 degrees on that beautiful October day, we had fun. I think she might actually have had more fun without us, but that's not how preschool field trips work, so we got to have fun, too.

Here are Dave and Luke having lunch in the complete chaos that was the picnic pavilion. Did I mention that every other daycare and preschool in the area also had a field trip to the pumpkin patch that day? EGR on her mission to find the perfect pumpkin. With all the things we did, this was when she was most comfortable - trekking through a field of pumpkins looking for the smallest one she could find. She kept telling me, "Are you coming, Mom? We are almost there, Mom!"

We found it. The perfect pumpkin. It even has a handle. We also bought a tinier one in the gift shop to keep it company on the dresser in her bedroom. This was the hayride to the patch to pick out the pumpkin. Luke slept through most of the trip, and woke up twice to nurse. For the first time ever, I had a stranger approach me while I was nursing and it was to compliment me.

I'm so glad Dave got this shot because it only happened once. Ella has developed a fear of inflatables - so weird since we previously couldn't drag her out of them - and I carried her to the top of the slide and slid down with her. I thought she would decide it was fun. I was so wrong. She screamed bloody murder and cried giant tears all the way down. I felt so guilty when I realized she was truly terrified and not just afraid to try something different. I had fun though; I slid by myself 3 more times and made Dave try it, too.
This was Ella's first pony ride. She didn't want to do this either but she told me later that she liked riding the big horse and she wants to do it again one day. It was actually a very small horse, but compared to the miniature pony she got to pet that day, it was huge. The Learning Farm (a.k.a. petting zoo) was fun except for the bossy woman running the joint. She made us leave the little piglets before we were finished looking at them. Oh, and I got scolded for picking them up. How was I supposed to know I couldn't pick it up after she already told me I could pick up the baby bunnies? Ella enjoyed petting the animals that would let her and feeding them hay, which then turned into putting hay on them, but whatever.

It was a fun day.

The Vomit Chronicles

I was told recently about a 3-year old we know that has never thrown up until this week. Never. The burning question in my mind upon hearing this news: Where do I get one of those kids?

While I feel bad for the child because is must be disconcerting to throw up for the first time when you are so cognizant, it is mind boggling to me that a kid could eat, sleep, ride in the car, take medicine for three years and not throw up. Is that even possible?

Between us, Dave, the grandmothers, and I have cleaned up countless gallons of vomit. Vomit is so much a part of our daily lives that we actually have rules about it.
1. No fingers in your mouth. (This one prevents accidental vomit when she is exploring too deeply with all four fingers.)
2. If you throw up, you will clean it up. (This sounds harsh, but when you have a kid who can vomit at will, you have to do something to deter it.)
3. You must eat something before we ride in the car in the mornings. (Otherwise, she will throw up, typically as we turn into the parking lot wherever we are going.)
4. You must eat something before you take yucky medicine. (This rule was added just this morning when the yucky stuff bounced right off the bottom of her stomach, back up her throat, and onto my kitchen floor. This counts as Lesson 3 in the Second Medicine Wars.)
5. If you throw up your medicine, you just have to take it again. (See #4 above).
6. No opening the diaper can and sniffing it. (Yes, she does this and her sensitive gag reflex can't handle it.)

Vomit started early and often in EGR's life. Read here for our experience in The Evil Place when my very young baby puked so much that we had to have the lady with the mop clean it up. When she was merely an infant, she got car sick and still does. We've gone to great lengths to prevent and prepare for vomit. We've drugged her with Benadryl (it works). We keep a vomit cup in the car. In cold weather we put her jacket on backward over her carseat straps so we just have to shed one layer to clean up, and we keep an extra in the car. We always have a change of clothes for her. We've developed efficient techniques for cleaning puke out of the carseat buckles. We've trained her to puke in the cup, in the toilet, leaning over the hard floor with her feet spread wide so it doesn't get on her. We recognize the cough that means it's coming up, even if she's sleeping deeply. She pukes when she's riding, when she swings too long, when she smells something nasty too early in the morning, when she has sinus drainage, when the medicine is just too yucky, when she melts down completely, when she's in full tantrum - the possibilities are endless, really. Inevitably, if she has eaten shrimp (and she eats piles of it), she throws up later that night for some reason or another (No, it's not because she's allergic to shrimp, it's just coincidence.)

Even Luke, in his long 8 weeks, has thrown up on me so many times I've lost count. And, if the kids aren't throwing up, the cats or the dog leave a pile for us to find. Indeed, vomit is a part of our daily lives. It's so routine that it would take lots and lots of persistent vomit to for me to even consider that one of them might have a virus. Ironically, stomach virus is not one of the reasons Ella has ever thrown up.

Stay tuned for the next installment: Babies Who Don't Spit Up: What's that about?

The Second Medicine Wars

EGR is fighting a nasty sinus infection right now and we just started the second round of antibiotics for it. She handled the first round very well - Omnicef, once a day for ten days. Day 10 got a little tricky, and included the second doctor's visit because I hadn't seen any improvement. Now, she has to take Augmentin and Mucinex twice a day, for ten days. We've gotten most of three doses in her, but it hasn't been pretty. Some things we've learned:

1. Even though she weighs nearly 33 lbs. and I'm newly recovered from a C-section (sort of), I can still hold her down if needed.
2. Spitting the medicine out really isn't worth it because then she just has to taste it again.

I hate holding her down and she hates being held down. Proving that I can really encouraged her to cooperate because I only had to do it for half a dose before she decided she would take it. It still isn't easy. The process requires an audience of people, animals, and toys that might need to know how to take medicine, counting, cheering, and bribing, but three doses are in. I'm hoping that she'll figure out that just swallowing it and getting it over with is easier than all the protesting.

This morning, Georgia, Gypsy, and Luke had to be present to watch her take it, she chased it with Diet Dr. Pepper, and I served her cheese Doritos with her biscuit for breakfast. Whatever; the medicine went down (after the first attempt was spit down her shirt). She tells me she doesn't like taking it, it's yucky. It is; it really, really is yucky. I think she's been very brave since she realized just how yucky it is. This morning, once she settled in to eat her Doritos, she told me, "I wike Motrin. It doesn't taste yucky." Poor kid.

I think the Mucinex is working already to clear her head, but I have instructions to bring her back Monday if she hasn't improved signficantly over the weekend. I'm ready for her to feel better. I need for her to feel better.

Oh, the drama...

Her ladybug sticker washed off in the bathtub.


I stepped on her foot.


She forgot to ask for her new lipstick until bedtime and her heart is broken that she has to wait until tomorrow.


She couldn't find her frog (it was in her hand).


All of these things inspired fits of tears this evening - between 7:15 and 7:45. I'm not talking about little tears; I mean great big, blubbering, slobbering, sobbing fits. It's pitiful. I just keep taking deep breaths and repeating to myself: "This too shall pass. This too shall pass."


I didn't have the heart to tell her that the ladybug sticker wasn't going to survive another bath. I think 2 is as many baths as can be expected for a sticker. She was hilarious, sitting in the bathtub with her arms propped on the sides so the stickers wouldn't get wet. All that's left now is the nasty sticky stuff that we will have to soak/scrub off over the next three days. Apparently, a sticker that would normally fall right off of a child's arm becomes cemented on after soaking in warm water.


I had a small meltdown myself last night after putting her to bed. Sometimes it just hits me that she's growing up so very fast. I can't figure out how she is two years old already, and as I laid beside her, studying her sweet face, I had a vision of her 16 years from now. I left her room and cried about it. No one ever told me it would hurt so much to watch them grow up. I think this is all hitting me a little hard right now because it's pretty likely that Luke is my last baby, and he's already outgrowing his 3 month sized clothes! Plus, I'll be going back to work in about a month, so I'm trying to soak up as much of his tiny babyhood as I can. If only there was a way to let them grow up and keep them little and cuddly, too, for those times when you just need to hold your little babies again. Two-year-old Ella is so much fun, but what I wouldn't give to hold her again when she looked like this.
I feel like everyone expects her to be even more grown up than she is because we have Luke now, and that's frustrating for me. Even I am guilty, but I'm trying to remember that she is only two. Just because she looks and talks like a three year old, doesn't mean she is as mature as one. One day, she was the baby, the next, everyone expects her to be grown and stop acting her age. When I realized that, I felt guilty. When I started thinking about how that must seem to her, I felt a stab in my heart. I pray constantly for guidance in raising her (and now Luke) - that I'll be able to teach them how to behave while still respecting them, that I won't completely screw them up, that I'll be strong enough to let go over and over again as they grow up. I'm doing the best I can, I think, and I hope that will be enough to grow them into successful, productive, empathetic, content, God-loving adults. He gave them to me to raise; I know He will help me do it.


The H. Luke Update
He was 7 weeks old on Wednesday. Monday, he rolled over from his stomach to his back. When I hold him in my lap, he will lean on my shoulder and stand up until his little legs just get too tired to support him. Just today, I watched him try to sit up straight from a semi-reclined position. I knew he was strong in the womb; he really is. He already plants his feet and scoots backward out of his diaper while I'm changing it. Like I told Dave over and over again while I was pregnant, he is a whole other ball of energy than Ella.


He consistently smiles and coos now in response to us, especially me and Ella. He loves the bouncy seat and the mobile above the changing table, otherwise he wants to be held so he can see your face or crunched up in a ball facing outward so he can see the world (depending on the time of day). Just as Ella does, he amazes me. He is beautiful and different and I love the smell of him. The smell is another thing I wish I could preserve for eternity. Heaven will smell like clean clothes and my babies' heads.

A Few Pictures

This spunky face says it all, and look at the smirk on his. I think there's trouble in my future.
EGR really wants to play with him but right now she settles for holding him and chatting with him. This morning he was making noises and I asked her what he was saying. She said, "He's saying 'Elwa!'" Indeed, it did sound like he said, "Ella." He probably did.

This was his first bath as a real boy - sans cord stump. It fell off 2 days shy of 3 weeks old.

First day of church - 10 days old.

Overnight in the Roper House: A Sneak Peek

Last night was magical. Both kids were asleep for the night by 8:40, and after the evening meltdown, an early silence was much appreciated. I actually got a chance to lie on the couch by myself and have a conversation with my husband. It was glorious.

I went to bed a little after 10, and I knew that Luke would be awake soon because his last feeding was at 7 pm. He woke up at midnight and I nursed him and put him back in his little bed. When he woke again at 1:20, I realized that there was another little body half on top of me and I had my arm wrapped around her. I had no recollection of her getting in bed with me. I rolled her onto Dave's pillow and sat up to nurse Luke. Dave came to bed then (I've said it before, don't ask about his night time habits.) and I told him, "There's a pixie on your side. You can try to move her back to her bed."

He scooped her up and stepped two steps out of the room when I heard, "Miiiilk." I started laughing, then she realized he was carrying her and she said, "I want to go see Mommy." He put her back where she was, left the room for a few minutes, then came back with her milk cup. She was asleep, so he took it back to the kitchen and did something else before he came back and moved her over so he could get in bed. She responded with, "NO!" I said, "Shh, he sleeps in this bed, too." And she said, "You're a sweet daddy." All of this while she was not really awake.

We sleep in a queen-size bed. Luke's bed is a side-car next to me. There's just not enough room to sleep that many people for more than a couple of hours of early morning snuggling, so I told him I would take her back to her bed when I finished feeding Luke.

I put Luke back in his bed and got Ella up and into her bed. Then we had to get up again for the milk cup. We settled into her bed and I heard Luke's protest: "Aaack! Aaack!" Dave came to Ella's room and said, "Just take her back in there and I'll sleep in here." I said, "Just let me get Luke, and sleep in your spot." He brought Luke to me, who immediately stopped crying when I tucked him in on the other side of me. We slept like that until 3:00, when I woke up and moved Luke and I back to our bed. He woke up shortly after that to nurse and didn't want to go back into his bed so I tucked him into my armpit for the rest of the night. I think I nursed him once more before Ella came back in during the 6 o'clock hour and we cuddled three in a row until it was time to get up. I'm not sure what time Dave left for work, but it was before Ella came back. I vaguely remember hearing his alarm at 5:00. I don't know if he was in the bed then or not.

The best part was that no one pooped, so I didn't have to change a diaper until it was time to wake up this morning.

I woke up amazingly rested.

Laaaaaid Back

This is how Luke fell asleep while I was wearing him last Sunday at a baby shower. He loves to sleep with his head in the weirdest positions. He loves to sleep. I love that he loves to sleep.

He does wake up a couple of times at night, which I fully expect to continue for a long time. What I was not expecting was this weird, almost telepathic connection between my children. HOW does Ella know every time he wakes up during the night and at naps? I pick him up and feed him before he cries, yet she still wakes up. Is he sending out a bat signal I don't know about? I wanted my children to have a close relationship, but I think this level of closeness might make me lose my sanity.

The EGR Update
Aside from fully frustrating me with her sleep regression, her uncanny knack for pooping every time I sit down to nurse, and her pretend crying every time Luke cries, she's hilarious.

On the way to school yesterday, she asked me, "Where is the gun?"
Me: Um, did you say gun?
EGR: Uh-huh.
Me: We don't have a gun.
EGR: Grandma does.
Indeed, Grandma does have a gun. And it stays at her house.

On the way home from school, we had another discussion about not touching the door handles while we are riding in the car (the child locks are on, by the way). It went like this.
EGR: You don't want to see me touch it?
Me: Touch what?
EGR: The door?
Me: Oh, the handle? No, you cannot touch it. I don't want you to fall out of the car while I'm driving. What would I do if you fell out?
EGR: You would pick me up, kiss me, and put me back.
She has an answer for everything.

The director at the preschool stopped me last week to discuss moving Ella up to an older class. Her verbal language is apparently pretty advanced compared to the other kids in her class and they want to move her to a class with other kids that talk as well as she does. The kids in the new class are six to nine months older than her and potty trained. She could be potty trained, but she hasn't made that decision yet. Dave and I decided to give the move a try and see how it goes. I'm thinking she might have been getting bored already, and I'm hoping an older class might help with some of the regression we are seeing at home. I'd also love for peer pressure to work it's magic in the area of potty training.

She had a trial period yesterday just to see how she'd react to going into the class with the other kids, and she did great. She wasn't even hesitant or shy with them. Today is the first day they were sending her to the new class from the start, and she was excited about it so I can't wait to hear what she has to say about it this afternoon.

Our Toilet Saga

Over the weekend, Dave realized the basement toilet was leaking. He soaked up the mess with towels and turned off the water. He thought. Tuesday, he realized the water wasn't off because the valve was broken and there was water all over the floor again. He soaked that up and set up a bucket to catch the drip.



Ella came upstairs and announced, "Oh gosh, our potty's broken." As if that's the only one in the house.



Dave and I discussed a plan and I added "toilet guts" and "quarter-turn shut off valve" to my list of things to get the next day. I could hear water dripping into the bucket from the kitchen. It wasn't pretty. On the way to Lowe's, we discussed again and decided to just go ahead and buy a new toilet. The one in the basement was probably put in when the house was built. It's ancient and it has issues - issues other than the leak.



With my entourage in tow, we went to Lowe's and shopped for a toilet. I finally found the same one we just put in our new bathroom and I had my personal Lowe's assistant load it up for me. He was happy to help. Dave got home and assessed the situation again only to discover that the ancient toilet is cemented to the floor. He replaced the shut off valve so we could turn off the water and loaded the new toilet back into my car so Luke and I could return it and follow the original plan of getting the toilet guts to repair the old one.



On the way to school this morning, Ella asked me if Georgia was in the back (she usually goes to school with us) and I explained that she wasn't because the toilet was back there and I had to take it back. We talked about the leak and that Daddy had fixed it all the way to school. In the carpool line, the lady who always gets her out of the car greeted her like she has every morning for a month. For the very first time, Ella actually responded. She said,"Our toilet is broken." I burst out laughing. Then she continued with, "Water is leaking." I could hear her telling the lady all the way in the door about Daddy fixing it and making it better. Who knew a broken toilet would finally get her to talk to the carpool teachers? One of the ladies told me, "She's such a grown up in that little body." Indeed, she is.



The EGR Update

If you pay attention to her ongoing dialog while she's playing, you will hear her "reading" her books to her babies. She has many of them memorized now. You'll also hear her read her Bible, which could be any random piece of paper she finds; I think it's because of the Bible story pages they use in Sunday school. She reads it like this, in her reading voice: "The Bible loves me this I know, Jesus tells me so." I love it.



She also pretends to be the teacher now and I've heard her tell her students that she was going to paint their hands for their mommies and daddies, and to "put your hands together; we are going to say the blessing." I've heard her sing the blessing once, but she won't do it again. When I ask her what her students are learning at school, she tells me "Jesus." I have to hand it to the Concord program, Jesus is the prevailing theme there. She's learning all kinds of things: colors, letters, shapes, songs, stories, manners, etc. but Jesus is the one thing she always comes home with.



The H. Luke Update

The Little Man has started to coo at us - usually when Ella and I are having breakfast and he's sitting at the table with us. He's growing so fast, it's already time to clean some clothes out of the dresser - many of them he has never even worn because they are long-sleeved and/or footed. I also think I need to take the extra head support out of his carseat, but he still needs it. I may need to just go ahead and adjust the straps for him. I have a feeling we'll be buying him a convertible seat before he's a year old because he's going to outgrow the infant seat.



He also does something I thought only happened in movies. He cries to be laid down. Then he goes to sleep. Without help. It only happens for the naps that occur early in the day, but still, EGR has never ever done that, to this day. The only time she falls asleep without help is while she's riding.

Prelude to Menopause

At my two week postpartum check up, my doctor gave me one of his prepared speeches about the state of my body. It went something like this.

"Women your age are either pregnant or not pregnant, but really there is a third state after you have a baby that is more like menopause. You'll experience nightsweats, mood swings, etc due to the changes in your hormones.. blah blah blah."

At two weeks postpartum with my second child, it wasn't necessary to tell me I'd experience nightsweats. Holy puddles, they started before I even left the hospital. There is nothing like sitting up in the middle of the night to feed the baby and feeling the pool of sweat between your boobs run downward to be soaked up by your shirt. Nothing like wet hair sticking to your neck so that you have to pull it back in a ponytail. Then, then as you sit out from under the wet sheets that you previously didn't need, you quickly turn into a drippy popsicle in the air conditioning and ceiling fan (both of which you can't live without). I'm constantly sweaty, cold, sweaty, cold until morning. Yeah, no need to tell me I'd experience nightsweats - how about telling me when they will end?!

My Little Waitress

Apparently we eat out a lot because there is a new game in our house. Ella has a little black, flip open note pad that she uses to take our orders in full Waffle House style. It goes like this.

EGR: Mommy, what you have?
Me: Eggs and sausage.
EGR: (pretending to write on her pad) You want milk?
Me: Yes, milk, too. (she writes)
EGR: (flipping her pad closed, smacking it on her thigh, and tapping her foot) That all for you?

I couldn't help but laugh. When she's in the basement, she's a high tech waitress using a Texas Instruments graphing calculator to take our orders. Oh, and don't forget the kids' Coke.

Last night at the supper table, we had some conversation about using our forks correctly - i.e. not raking our food into the floor with them. When said fork disappeared a few minutes later, Dave asked her if she was still using it.
EGR: Yes.
Dave: Where is it?
EGR: I'm just holding it in my toes.
Me: Because toes are a perfectly logical place to hold a fork.

Again, I lost it. We didn't even correct her that time because both of us were laughing too hard.

At bedtime now, I have to tell her to stop talking and that we can talk about XYZ again in the morning. First thing this morning, she restarted her line of questioning about Pop's CPAP machine. She's quite the interrogator. I think she could break down any criminal out there with her persistent questioning on every tiny detail of any subject.

The H. Luke Update
Luke made his acting debut as the baby Jesus in church Sunday morning. He did great; he slept right through until our part was over and then he was ready to eat.

Last week we started him on Zantac for reflux. Saturday night I decided not to give it to him any more because it upsets his stomach so much that he cried more than he did with just the reflux. I think I'll be taking him back to the doctor to talk about this.

We've indoctrinated him into the bath and bedtime routine and now I think he really looks forward to it. I bathe him in the little tub on the bathroom counter while Ella plays in the big tub. He'll sit in the warm water and listen to her until she's finished playing, then he's ready for bed.

My KidS

That's kids with a capital S because now I have more than one. A good friend of mine told me multiple times during my pregnancy that adding the second kid was a major adjustment for him, and a lot more work than having the first one. His kids have about the same age difference between them as mine. I took his warning in with a grain of salt, but I have to say that there are times when I think he's exactly right. And, there are times when I feel like I've found my stride and I'm handling this transisition very well. It depends very much on the quantity and quality of sleep I've had.

I've never tip-toed around the fact that the middle of the night is the most challenging part of motherhood for me. This time is harder, partly because I have two to parent, but mostly because I'd gotten so accustomed to one wake up for less than 20 minutes. I've had to make a big effort to adjust my expectations back to the newborn phase. Luke only wakes up a couple of times, but it takes a whole lot longer to get him back to sleep because we have to go through the whole nurse, burp, poop, change, swaddle, etc. routine each time. It's helped for me to think back to Ella's first few weeks and remember that I did the same things with her and this is normal. I was just less prepared for all of the middle of the night awake time this time around - which seems weird to me since I've done this before. It is doubly challenging when Ella wakes up, too, sometimes more than Luke, sometimes at the same times, sometimes because his crying wakes her, sometimes her crying wakes him - it's enough to make me curse under my breath as I trudge through the house in the dark.

Luke is more receptive to Dave cuddling him to sleep than Ella ever was, so he's been able to tag team with me on nights when it's really rough because they are awake and crying at the same time. Ella doesn't mind me bringing Luke to her bed to nurse while I sit with her until she falls back to sleep, but he sounds like a very noisy piglet while he's nursing so I often wonder how she even falls asleep at all with all that noise. She does, but some nights I have to tamp down my frustration when she keeps sitting up to look at him and my frustration with him at being so loud. (I told you, I'm at my worst in the middle of the night.)

Luckily, Ella is at an age and phase in her life where she seeks Dave out and he is very effective with her. The perfect timing of this is an answered prayer because I've really needed his help with her in the last three weeks. It's been very humbling to admit that there are times when he is more effective at parenting her than me. That's one reason why kids have two parents, I guess, but it's humbling for me anyway. It also makes me love him so much more. It's been cool to see how I've fallen in love with him differently with each kid.

But on days when it's good, it's so good. When I finally had a few hours alone with both kids to figure it out by myself, I felt so validated. I managed, they were both happy at the end of it, and there was peace in our house. I've had a lot of help from my family since I came home from the hospital because I really, really needed it. My recovery has been harder this time; I had a lot more pain and obviously a lot more to handle with a two year old. However, having someone with me all the time seems to negatively affect Ella's adjustment to sharing me. Sharing me with Luke hasn't been a problem, but sharing me with the grandmothers is more than she can handle at times.

Overall, I think she's adjusting well to being a big sister. Her new relationship with Daddy has really helped in times when I can't do what she wants/needs immediately and when she needs some focused play time. She may still choose to wait for me to be available, but Dave is an option now - and often a preference. She eagerly waits for him to come home in the evenings so he can play with her. She understands that all the things I do for Luke are things I did for her when she was a baby and I validate that every time she talks about it. She loves her little brother, and there is nothing sweeter than watching her kiss, cuddle, and talk to him.

He loves her, too. His eyes light up and he seeks her out when he hears her voice, and he is content to sit and watch her for a long time. I know that there will be times when they drive each other nuts, but I'm very happy that they will have each other.

Where are your nipples?

If my precocious two year old happens to ask you this question, please gently remind her that nipples belong under shirts unless they are feeding babies. Because she will ask to see them.

I thought the biggest theme of conversation when we brought Luke home would be about penises, but I was wrong. We've had two nonchalant conversations about testicles that went something like this.

EGR: What's that?
Me: What, poop?
EGR: No, what's that on his bomom (bottom)?
Me: Oh, his testicles. They are part of his boy parts.

Then she moved on. Nursing and nipples is quite a different story. The day he was born, she was in the room when the lactation consultant visited us and helped me get Luke to latch on the first time. As soon as the lady left, Ella started the running dialog about nursing Big Baby from her nipples and pulling up her shirt to show us. Frequently, she asks where our nipples are and wants to see them. Even Georgia's nipples are a point of curiosity. When she started asking people outside of our household, we started explaining that nipples are for feeding babies and when they aren't feeding babies, they belong under our shirts because they are private parts. She gets it, but curiosity gets the best of her sometimes.

I had some worries about her reaction to my nursing Luke because it's not been too long since she was a nursling. The day we came home from the hospital, she asked to nurse and I let her try. She didn't remember how, and my willingness to let her try was enough to satisfy her. Now, she has embraced the fact that babies drink milk and regularly tells me when he cries, "You need to give him milk." Last night, I was sitting in the bathroom floor nursing Luke while she played in the bath tub. It wasn't long before her plastic dolphin toys needed to nurse from her nipples. I just tell her it's great that she nurses her babies because mommy's milk is good for them.

The H. Luke Update
It's been a week since we went to Children's and I think he's finally getting back to normal. We had some really tough days with gas and diaper rash after all the antibiotics they pumped into his little body, but today has been much better. To my satisfaction, I did manage to swaddle him tight enough to calm him and get him to sleep decently last night. This is something I've struggled with since we came home with him because he is so strong. The kid scoots away from me while I'm changing his diaper and clamps his arms down to his sides when I try to change his shirt. It's amazing. He has rolled over one time, completely on accident, but that was before he was a week old. He lifts his head now and looks around for familiar voices. This morning, EGR and I gave him his first cooking lesson. He sat in the high chair with us while we made eggs, sausage and French toast. So far, he's pretty laid back most of the time.

When Tiny Babies Have a Fever

You get sentenced to 48 hours at Children's Hospital with IV antibiotics pumping into a tiny, taped up, flipper hand.

Monday morning Luke seemed a little off, then he went 4 hours without nursing and promptly threw up on me after he did nurse. I took his temperature then and it was normal. A few hours later, it was 100.3 so I called the doctor. They worked us in within the hour. I packed a diaper bag for him and a couple of diapers for Ella, expecting to be told it was a virus and sent home to nurse, nurse, nurse and keep and eye on him until it ran its course.

Imagine my surprise when the doctor (not our regular doctor) told me we needed to go straight to the ER at Children's so he could have the full bloodwork done. It looked like he might have an ear infection, but because of his age (12 days), they couldn't make that assumption without checking for more serious causes - like meningitis and bloodstreem infections. Yikes. He had called ahead and the ER doctor was expecting us.

In a state of shock, with 2 diapers for my two year old who was wearing flip flops that hurt her piggy toes and the crap umbrella stroller I keep in my car for just such occasions, we were on our way downtown. I worked hard to keep my composure while letting my family know and explaining to EGR that we were indeed going back to the hospital because Luke was sick. After I had assured her, that very day, that I didn't have to go back to the hospital.

At 4:30 in the afternoon, they took us right into a room in the ER and that's where I learned that a full work up means: blood work (after squeezing vials of blood from Luke's already pricked and bruised heels), urinanalysis (after a catheter), and a spinal tap. And, oh, by the way, "when we do all of this, we go ahead and admit them for 48 hours to run IV antibiotics while we wait for the blood culture to grow."

I cried with him as they poked and prodded and squeezed out his blood because it's just physically impossible for me to sit there and listen to him cry like that without doing something. I left the room when they did the spinal tap and took that opportunity to tell Ella goodbye. She spent the night with Grandmother so that Dave could go home to pack me a bag and bring it back to me.

The preliminary bloodwork came back negative for any sort of infection, so we knew before we were admitted that it was most likely viral, but they started his IV and sent us to a room to wait for the culture to grow. Overnight, his fever went up to 102.6 and I was so very thankful to already be at the hospital when that happened. At 24 hours, the blood culture was negative but we still had to wait another 24 hours to make absolutley sure there was no bacterial infection. In that time, his fever went up and down and I had to work to get him to nurse. By the 48 hour mark he was much more himself, and the culture was still negative so we were released with the tiny baby dosage for Tylenol and Mylicon (the antibiotics really upset his stomach).

Now we are home, and though he still smells like the medicine they pumped into him, he is doing amazingly better. He ate and slept and woke up normally. He may have only been home for a week, but he knows that home is way better than Children's Hospital. I, myself, was so happy to take a shower and sleep on a bed that I was nearly giddy.

The EGR Update
Dave and I thought that the second night I was at the hospital with Luke would be a good time for Ella to stay home with him and go through the whole supper, bath, bedtime routine without me. We talked and talked to her about it and I'm excited to say it went off without a hitch. Well, only a minor hitch - there were crickets chirping outside her room so she was scared to sleep in there, but she slept the whole night through in bed with Daddy. There was no crying at bedtime. No self-induced vomiting. I'm so proud of both of them. I had a good feeling that if I wasn't physically in the house, she and Dave could work out bedtime without any problems and they did. He was very excited about it, too. They were both glad when we got home yesterday, and when I tucked Ella into bed last night, she didn't even stay awake through her bedtime prayer. She's still a bit worried and asking "What is wrong with 'uke?" but she has generally been a trooper through the mayhem that was the last 2 weeks of our lives.

Thanks to our family and friends that prayed for us; I'm so very grateful.

The Birth Story of Harris Luke

Harris Luke
August 18, 2010 at 12:59 pm
8 pounds 13 ounces
21 inches

My surgery was scheduled for 1:15 pm on the 18th. I was glad about that because it meant one less night that Ella would have to spend away from us, but it also made it hard not to eat or drink anything - especially since Ella was offering me part of her breakfast because I wasn't eating. It also just felt like we spent a lot of time waiting to go to the hospital, and we still got there a little early.

I felt like I was just more with it this time. I don't know if it's because it was my second time, or if I was just that out of it when I had Ella, but I felt more like a participant rather than a spectator. Dave was with me the whole time except when they put in the epidural and the first few minutes in the OR. The nurses were better; I was just more relaxed all the way around.

I told Dave on the way to the hospital that I wished I could have the same anesthesiologist because he did a good job last time and I liked him. Would you believe my wish came true? That was an answered prayer. I knew Dave wouldn't be able to stay with me while he administered the epidural, but that is the part where I really wanted him the most. It just scares the crap out of me. The nurse was great, but my heart was racing and I was trying to control my breathing so I wouldn't panic. It went in fine, and I didn't have any ringing in my ears or headache to indicate a problem. I did start to worry when my right hip really started cramping as the medicine went in, but the doctor assured me that it's normal for one side to start going numb before the other and that's what was happening. The leaned me to left so that the medicine would start numbing that side of my body.

While he was putting the thing in my back, the OB started asking if we could move the surgery up half an hour. Everyone was in agreement and all I could think was, "Will I be numb that fast?" Once I was lying down on in bed, I got really nauseated. I told the nurse and she shot some Zofran in my IV that stopped it almost instantly. Then my vision started turning black and fuzzy around the edges. Before I could say anything, I heard an alarm go off and she was shooting something else into my IV. She said my blood pressure had dropped too low, and that medicine would stabilize it. I asked if that's why I was going blurry and she confirmed. That happened three times before it was stable and they allowed Dave back in the cubicle with me.

Very soon, I was wheeled into the OR, still feeling tingly and able to wiggle my toes. The doctor tested my numbness with a pin and topped off the epidural. It didn't take long before my body was a log from my breasts down. My surgeon came in and joked around with me, and I reminded him that I wanted stitches to close the incision - no staples. He wasn't my regular OB, but I had met him a couple of times when my OB wasn't in the office. Initially, I was worried about not having my doctor, but the other one was really great.

They brought Dave into the room, and the surgery started. It wasn't as quick this time. It felt like they had to wrestle Luke out of me, and the nurse told me to just breathe through it because there was so much pressure in my abdomen and ribs. When he was out, I was instantly able to take the deep breath I'd been missing for weeks. It was wonderful.

His APGARs were 8 and 9, but he had a lot of fluid in his lungs so instead of the screaming we heard with Ella, his cry was more like a puppy barking. They deep suctioned him and cleaned him up while I watched on the Baby Cam and Dave took pictures. They took him back to the recovery room, while I was closed up. I nearly fell asleep on the operating table because it felt so good to be numb in my hips instead of the aching I'd had for weeks. The nurse told me I didn't have to try to stay awake, but I wanted to - I didn't want to miss anything when I got back to the recovery room.

Because of the extra fluid in Luke's lungs, they had to suction him out again in recovery so they had not bathed him yet. I actually got to see his first bath! They checked his sugar and it was great! They gave him to me to hold skin-to-skin and try to nurse. I could not get him to latch on. I was starting to worry and he was kind of fussy. The nurse called it "grunting" and called a NICU nurse to evaluate him. They had me hold him skin-to-skin for the remainder of the hour I was there, and then decided he needed to go to the transition nursery in the NICU for observation because he still had some fluid in his lungs and belly. So, I went to my room on the maternity floor and they took him to the NICU. I told Dave to go with him and hold him if they'd let him.

It was two hours later before I finally saw him again. I was really worrying about nursing him because I know that the sooner you start, the easier it will be. The lactation consultant came to see me while he was in the NICU and I expressed my concerns to her - that it had been so long and I couldn't get him to latch on. She went to check on him, and when she came back she told me he was on the way up and that I needed to take off his t-shirt and tuck him into my gown and hold him for the rest of the day. She said I should not pass him around, just let him rest and try to nurse when he acted like he was ready. I was happy to do just that.

She happened to be there when he started crying, so I tried to latch him on. He finally did, but he would not suck. It took several more times before he got the hang of it, and it was the middle of the night before he really had a good nursing session and fell asleep for a while. I was so relieved. Once he got it, he really got it, and I didn't even have to pump while I was in the hospital.

The next day, we passed him around. He is such a laid back baby so far - content to be held and snuggling in the neck of whoever has him. He's been nursing like a champ and when I took him to the doctor on Monday, he had regained 3 of the 12 ounces he lost in the hospital. He's doing great!

Welcome to the World, Luke!

Today, one week old.

Big sister examining all of his parts.

Right after birth, in the recovery room.

Pod child number 2.

Immediately after birth.

Birth story to follow...

First Day of School

Last night, in a fit of nerves, EGR told me she didn't want to go to "shfool" but this morning she was ready to put on her new clothes and she wanted to eat her lunch for breakfast. We compromised on drinking from the juice cup I had already packed for her. She even LET me fix her hair! I didn't have to wrestle her at all.

When we got there, we had to wait outside for a few minutes for them to unlock the door. She held my hand and studied the other kids running around until we got in the building, then she yanked it away and stood in line to sign in beside me. She walked to her classroom by herself. I squatted beside her and pulled her onto my leg and reminded her that I would be back to pick her up when her class was over, then she just walked into the room to see what some other kids were doing. I told her bye, blew her a kiss, and left. That was it. Easy peasy. I was so proud of her. Grandmother wanted to hang around but I dragged her out because I wasn't planning to wait for her to cry. She did not.

She had just woken up from nap and was reading a book when I got there to pick her up. Her teacher said she had a great day. Twice she started to cry a little, but stopped when she reassured her that I would be there later to pick her up.

She didn't drink much, but I expected that since I sent water and juice instead of milk or Coke. She'll just have to adjust to that. I think she probably ate most of her lunch because she ate breakfast early and did not have a snack before we left. When we passed by the building on the way out of the parking lot she said, "That's my shfool?" I said that it was, and she said, "I want to go in there." I hope this means the Thursday drop off without me will go well.

I can't believe how grown up she looks in these pictures!

One big event down, one more to go this week.

Repeat C

I don't know if it's self-fulfilling prophecy (I hope not) or my strange intuition, but I called it spot on when I said everything would happen the week Ella starts school. Baby Boy will be born next week, Wednesday, the 18th, via repeat c-section.

The next few days will be a blur and I'm desperately trying to process this new information. He will be born 11 days early because they think he's going to be giganto-baby. As I predicted, they estimated his weight yesterday at 9 lbs. - give or take a pound and 5 oz. Magically, he went from measuring 37 weeks on Monday to 40 weeks yesterday, after my doctor heard the estimate. I'm a bit skeptical. My gut still says he's not going to be overly large, but I'm starting to wonder if that's just wishful thinking. We'll know soon enough.

So, am I ready? Am I ready to see this baby? Yes! Yes! Yes! Am I ready for another major abdominal surgery? I'm still working on that part. Regardless of the fact that I've done this before, it still makes me very nervous to be cut wide open, have two people digging around inside me, and then sewn up again. That doesn't even account for the scary epidural needle wielded by a perfect stranger a millimeter from my spinal cord. I need to breathe - deeply and hypnotically.

I was really hoping for a VBAC this time, and I'm finding it brutally ironic and unfair that the child actually has his head low in my pelvis, but I'm not going to be allowed to push him out. I'd be remiss if I didn't say that just sucks. I know, I know, the repeat c-section probably is the safest option for both mother and baby given that he may be huge and I already have an existing uterine scar. I know that our safety is the most important thing. But, I also know this pretty much seals the deal on me ever having the birth I wanted so badly. I will never have the experience of birthing my own baby. And that's something I have to allow myself to mourn.

Eleven days isn't really very early, but with babies of gestational diabetic mothers, every day counts for lung development. It's a bit of a trap between giving him a few extra days in the womb and making sure he's delivered before I go into labor spontaneously, thus we aren't going to make it to 39 weeks. He's still doing great on his non-stress tests, so I think he's going to be fine but a little extra prayer never hurt anyone. Please pray for a smooth, uneventful surgery and recovery and a healthy baby.

While you're at it, can you also say a prayer for EGR? Her next week will be just as much a whirlwind as mine. Tonight we will go to preschool orientation to meet her teacher and see her classroom. Tuesday is her first day of school - in a completely new place with strangers. Ultimately, I think she'll love it, but I'm hoping for a smooth transition into this new environment. Wednesday, we will drop her off at Grandmother's house, where she will be spending three nights and then she'll come to the hospital to meet Baby Boy. Thankfully, she is well aware of and excited about all of these things, but I'm really hoping it's not too much for her in the moment.

Go ahead and include Dave in those prayers, too. While he's extremely relieved to have a scheduled c-section with my doctor and he's much more comfortable with the idea of it than I am at the moment, I know that he will be scared and nervous when they wheel me away into the OR. Plus, he's just going to have a lot to juggle with my recovery, a newborn, and a 2 year old.

The EGR Update
We are alternating between talking about Baby Boy's birth next week and school. She keeps asking me her teacher's name, and I keep telling her we are going to meet her tonight to find out her name and see her class.

I told her last night that Baby Boy will be born next Wednesday. When she woke up this morning, she asked me, "You go to the hospital next week for Baby Boy?" Yes. "You will have a band-aid?" Yes. "Daddy be there with you?" "Yes, and you will come to visit us and meet Baby Boy." While we were getting into the car this morning, she told me that the babies in her tummy have already been born.

She is also reminding us to say the blessing at every meal, and she is finally bowing her head and being quiet while we say it. Last night she served me a refreshing cup of bath water and informed me that we had to say the blessing before I could "drink" it. So we did. In the tub.

I've been telling her the "bear song" at bedtime every night; the one about "Goldi'ocks not picnic." (There is a Teddy Bear Picnic song she sometimes requests.) The second night, when I got to the part where Goldi'ocks eats all of Baby Bear's porridge, she leaned in really close to my face and asked in her concerned voice, "They make some more pordidge?" Yes, of course they do; Mama Bear will not let Baby Bear go hungry. She really likes Daddy Bear's voice, but for some reason he reminds me a little bit of Karl Childers from Sling Blade, umm hmm.

Stick a fork in me...

I'm done. D-O-N-E. Done.

I'm done with: "Oh my God, Amanda's belly is huge!"
And: "There's no way you will make it three more weeks."
And: "Wow, someone's going to have a baby soon!"
And: "Your belly is just going to split open."
And: "Someone is about to burst!"
And: "Shouldn't you be in the hospital?!"
And: "Amanda, I brought donuts and I want to make sure you are the first to get some."
And: "When are you due again?"
And: "Do they know how big the baby is going to be?"
And: "You don't have much longer."
And, my personal favorite from early on: "You do know what causes this, right?"

These are the things I wanted to say in response.

"Yes, I'm growing a human being."
"You do know that the size of my belly does not determine when this baby will be born, right?"
"Really? Who?"
"Hmm, I did watch a made-for-TV movie about a woman who delivered her baby through her belly button."
"Oh no! Should we call an ambulance?"
"Just because I'm pregnant does not mean I can just shovel donuts in my face twice a week."
"Please write it on your calendar: August 29."
"Yes, my doctor uses a combination of x-ray vision and a crystal ball to determine the exact weight of the baby BEFORE he comes out."
"What do you know about how long three weeks is? I'd like to see you walk around in this body for just one."
"Yup, hot monkey sex."

It has been pointed out to me that these people (with the exception of the random strangers) are just excited and anticipating the birth of this baby. I get that. I do. I also get that I'm not fit for the public right now. I've reached that point. The point of exiling myself to my house in a giant t-shirt, under the ceiling fan. I remember reaching the same point when I was pregnant with Ella. I've been carrying this child for 37 weeks; for at least 30 of those weeks, I've been hearing running commentary on my appearance. It's so old. It's even older than my achy right hip and my near constant bathroom trips.

All I need to hear right now is: "Wow, you are a fine/gorgeous/beautiful looking pregnant woman!" Else, the world can just shut up for the next three weeks.

They 'IGHT up! They 'IGHT Up!

Translated: They LIGHT up!

That's what Ella just told me over the telephone about her new flip-flops. She was so excited she didn't take a breath to hear me respond and she just kept saying it over and over again.

Apparently, she had a secret mission for Grandmother today, and that was to find her some flip-flops. She's been wearing mine whenever she can get them, and she's been wearing some too-small ones that will be Baby Boy's one day, but she didn't have any of her own. She set out to rectify that situation today in a mission that scoured four stores in two cities. Lucky she is to have grandparents that indulge her.

I obviously haven't seen them yet, but I hear that in addition to lighting up, they are clear with lady bugs on them, and that she walked in circles trying to watch them once she realized the were lighting up. I can't wait to watch her prance proudly around in them this afternoon. I expect she'll need to wear them with the new skinny jeans she picked out two weeks ago.

Bye-bye princess crocs, hello blingin' flip-flops.

Are my insides burning?

WHAT is this taste in my mouth when I burp? For weeks, when I wake up in the middle of the night and burp it tastes like I've been eating burnt popcorn that has given me indigestion. I have not been eating popcorn, burnt or otherwise, but this taste has been driving me nuts.

I think I just figured out what is causing it. I decided yesterday, as I sat at my desk in the air conditioning and still struggled to breath, that I should start taking my iron supplement in the mornings. I usually take it at bed time, but I also usually drink a glass of milk at bedtime and eat a handful of Tums during the night. Since calcium blocks the absorption of iron, I'm probably not getting much benefit from the iron supplement when taking it this way. So, in an effort catch my breath and feel like I have a little energy (the real kind, not the kind I fake so everyone will leave me alone), I decided to take it in the mornings. Guess what? Fifteen minutes after taking it this morning, the burnt popcorn taste is back and I realized I didn't taste it in the hours I was awake last night. Hmm. Since I've been taking iron for months and I only started the Glyburide last week, it has to be the iron that's causing this nastiness. Unfortunately, knowing the cause doesn't make it any more pleasant.

The EGR Update
The topic of the week has been umbilical cords. We've been studying her newborn pictures and she's asked about the cord, so I explained that the baby gets his food through the cord while he's in my tummy and when he is born he will still have a little bit of cord that will dry up and fall off, and then he'll have a belly button just like hers. She is very enthusiastic about his belly button. I've explained that we won't be able to put him in the baby bathtub until his cord falls off, and that we'll have to clean it, etc. She has really been doing some thinking about this new baby business. Yesterday morning, she got out of bed and came to find me in my bathroom. She proudly announced, "I'm a big sister!"
Me: "Yes, you are."
EGR: "Baby boy will be born! We will hold him! Bathe him! He will have a cord?"
Me: "Yes, and his cord will fall off and then he'll have a belly button like yours."
EGR: "Yeah!"
Similar exchanges have taken place over the last few days and always lead to a few minutes of comparing belly buttons.

She has a lovely cold right now, so we were up and down a few times last night while she tried to breathe. At 3:30, she came to our bed and after I finally got us settled with everything we needed (milk cup, nose sucker, smelly vapor plug-in thingy, dry diaper, etc), and I got comfortable again with all my pillows, Baby Boy stretched his little self out and started doing flips. As she was cuddled right up to my belly, she quickly informed me, "Baby Boy is movin'." To which I replied, "Yes, I know, Sweet Pea, he always wakes up when you do." I foresee lots of sibling bonding time in the wee morning hours in our future. The question is, who will wake up who?