What happened?

I heard today that blogs are dying and it's primarily because of social networks like Facebook and Twitter.
My blog barely has a pulse.
I used to get irritated when people said, "I don't have time to _____" (fill in the blank) because I thought, "No. You're choosing not to MAKE time for ______."
I stand by my irritation. I still think it's true. And I admit, I haven't made time for blogging. Because it's so much quicker to write a one sentence update and upload a photo than it is to sit and think about stringing together several thoughts. Plus, I have many more friends and family on FB than I do on this. Sure, it's an open blog but I don't freely give my address to everyone. If they stumble upon it, fine. But they would be hard pressed to located it.
Anyway.
It's my favorite time of the year. And for whatever reason, I haven't really made the time to enjoy it! I remember the last time I felt this way was when I was at a job I didn't like and it drained all my energy. I don't know what it is this year. I suppose it's going to a wedding the first weekend of December and then it was my birthday weekend last weekend so we went out. But still, I don't know where the time goes.
But finally, FINALLY, the tree is up. For some reason, that seals the deal for the Christmas vibe. At least, for me. We had wreaths up but it just wasn't complete without the tree.
I love this time of the year. The Bun is old enough to hopefully enjoy it too. The Man asked for a demotion at work so he's leaving and coming home at a decent hour. Best of all, he's in a good mood and a lot less stressed. I know, it sounds funny that he would ask to be demoted but I worried about his health and basically well-being. While he was a good enough man to leave any frustration at work, he still carried a lot of that stress inside of him. And he was working crazy long hours and missing out The Bun's "firsts" of things like crawling up the stairs.
Thankfully, he was able to request a demotion and still have a job. And I'm thankful to be employed too. Our lives will never be perfect but I'm so very thankful for everything we have.
OK, so I've got to jet and get the baby ready to go. So no proof reading or anything! See? That's why I have a problem w/ blogging. I know that it's going to tick me off when I look back and see errors or wish I had written a thought a different way.
But my blog still has a pulse.

We have a Christmas Card!

Christmas Cookies Christmas

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I just placed our order! We took a bunch of photos and came up with ... two. But hey, that's all it takes for a Christmas card, right? One (or two) photo you really like and are willing to send out to the masses. But man, the camera doesn't lie, does it? Because it's telling me I need to go on a diet:( The photos I chose were the most flattering for all of us. We actually had some more good ones of the humans but the pups were looking left. Or everyone but The Bun was looking at the camera. It really took quite a few shots. But yes, the ones that were taken of me that were unflattering were REALLY unflattering. Blech. I suppose it's a wake up call. Rude, nevertheless!
On a happier note, I'm really excited I ordered our holidays cards! Of course, the work is only half way done. Once I receive them in the mail, I've got to address, self-address and stamp them.
But, dammit, I'm already in the Christmas spirit! So when I do receive them and it's time to do the not-so-fun-part, I'm just going to throw on some holiday music and go to town! :)

Belated birthday wishes to my Bun

I know, I'm super late. But I don't feel too guilty because I wished The Bun a happy birthday on FaceBook, had a birthday dinner on her real birthday with The Man and my folks and then had a small but unintentionally expensive birthday party at the Oakland Zoo. This baby is LOVED.
Of course, there is that guilt I have because I've been meaning to post about her birthday. I did it for her furry sisters, for crying out loud. But I also did not throw parties for them so there's the trade off. We also had a really big scare with Piko, a visit from the in-laws and attempted to take holiday photos to get a leg up on the annual Christmas card. We've been busy.
I posted cute photos of her birthday festivities on FB - blogger is so neglected! Well, her birthday dinner. I've found that The Bun is hesitant to dig into cake with her hands which I find endearing. She's also easily alarmed by crowd and noise so we whispered/sang to her the birthday song. Just like all moms, my baby charms me to pieces. Her personality is showing more and more each day and she is one tough cookie with strong opinions. For a one year old. I shouldn't be surprised, I name her after my mom who is one of the toughest women I know. She is also still my very sweet baby and I appreciate the balance.
I so badly wanted to post the video The Man put together commemorating The Bun's first year. But he's been working overtime (much like when Ava was a fresh out of the hospital, ironically!) and hasn't had the time to finish it. Totally understandable, of course. So I'm going to post the commercial that The Man says captures how he feels about The Bun. And after he showed it to me, I could see what he meant. I'm impressed how a commercial can capture how it feels to be a parent because this will certainly be us.

Babies in fur coats

I intended my next entry to be about The Bun's first birthday. The Man is working on her video and I wanted to post photos from her actual birthday and her little get together.
Then, yesterday, an ordinary day turned into an extraordinary one when I came home to find vomit on the floor. I then turned the corner into the kitchen and found Piko lying next to her urine. She was less than a foot away from where she was supposed to go.
I knew something was terribly wrong.
I took her to our veterinary as an emergency visit. After waiting 1 1/2 hours, we were seen. And I was told she has Immune Mediated Hemolytic Anemia. Without going into a huge explanation, what I thought would be an expensive visit and pills to be taken at home ended up getting Piko immediately admitted, blood drawn and her red blood cell count monitored.
We hoped that we would be able to take her today. But her red blood cell count went down over 50%. So she's getting a transfusion with the hope that it will slow down her body's attack on itself and allow the meds to work.
This situation has brought both of us to tears. She is so sick. We want our furry baby healthy again so we can take her home where she belongs.

Getting wayyy ahead of myself

The Bun is not a year old yet but I'm already thinking of her education. And worried that it will be expensive. See, we live in a school district that I do not want The Bun to attend. I grew up in this school district. I have heard it's not any better than when I was a child and I believe it. I've already told The Man that we will either have to move when she is four years old or think about private school. See, I interact with educators on a daily basis. You better believe I was scoping out schools when The Bun was in the oven. That's right, she hadn't even been born yet.
I've already decided the city I wanted to move to if we had the option to go that route. But I actually like where I live. I like the location of our home, the neighborhood and the convenience of having many places and people near by. Plus, and this is a big plus, we can afford our home. I think that even with the equity we will have built from this home, we will only be able to afford a fixer upper in the city with a nice school district.
But then I discovered a somewhat near Charter school. I know, I know, charter schools have been in the news lately and are being hailed as the answer to bad public schools. But I jumped on that bandwagon a long time ago. And, be still my beating heart, this one goes all the way to high school.
So I called today. That's right. My baby girl isn't even a year old and I called. I found out some information and know that I need to start planning in a couple of years. But I can't help it, I really hope that we can get her into this school! To be able to have a great education for free from Kindergarten to 12th grade would be amazing. I'm more than willing to be an active participant and meet the demands they have on parents. Because she's worth it. And because if all the parents are meeting these expectations, we should be be able to create a desireable learning environment for our kids. A place that doesn't depend solely on the teachers to make an impact but everyone truly believes it takes a village to raise a child. Accountability, dammit.
Yes, I fall under whatever crazy parent category you may want to file me under. But that's what happens.

Guess she can't be called The Bun for much longer

She's been out of the oven for nearly a year! Where did the time go? It was a tough labor. An even tougher post partum. And then the sleep deprivation. Wow.
But then there was also the first giggle. Her sweet demeanor right out the gate. Her personality coming through as she develops, getting bigger and stronger. The way she needs to be w/ me when she sees me in the room.
Admittedly, I sometimes miss the freedom to do anything. Or nothing:) My time feels borrowed because I have to shape my day around her. But the only time I really miss that freedom is when I'm sick. Because I'm a weenie when I'm sick:p But it's what you give up when you have a baby-selfishness:) I know, it sounds negative but it's not. I have friends who have held off because of that very reason. And I respect that.
My point? I'm blessed because The Bun is awesome. She has been rewarding me w/ little gifts. And big gifts, like sleep! These 11+ months have given me a greater appreciation for my husband, our families, and quite honestly, the good parents I've encountered. I also love to pieces my sweet, sweet baby girl. She amazes me and I think she is made up of all the best traits of me & The Man.

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Our littlest baby for three years ...

... before the hairless one came in and took over our world:)
Oh Pili. What an adventure with this girl. When we first took her home, I was scared we had made a mistake. She was so different from our first mild-mannered pup. And she kind of smelled like rotten eggs. I'll never forget that. And the first night she was home, she was kenneled just like Piko. UNlike Piko, she wasn't going to stand for it. She sounded like a screeching monkey and made such a racket! And, more than once, we had to extract her from her kennel and clean both Pili and her kennel because there was poop everywhere.
I'll be honest, I wanted to return her. We had family friends who went through the same pup place as us who didn't have a love match with pups they took home and returned them, eating the deposit fee. After the 3rd, 4th or 5th night of interrupted sleep (they all blended together), that sounded like a mighty fine idea. I was ready to throw in the towel. Pili was so much work - she kept all of us up, she was stinky and Piko seemed indifferent if we kept her or not. But The Man was insistent that we weather it out and see what happens.
Thank goodness we did.
Pili is so loving and sweet. She will lick your face until the cows come home ... whatever that means. Seriously, though, I wanted to see if she would get tired so I decided to see if I could just sit it out and see if she got tired. After over a minute had passed, I realized that she was going to win because I couldn't take it anymore. Too much love!
Pili is also pretty smart. If she had more disciplined parents, she would probably be able to do really cool tricks. She was attentive during obedient school and can somewhat be trusted off leash. But, just like every other parent, I don't trust the people (dogs) AROUND her. So she stays on leash most of the time.
They both have been so great around The Bun. And goodness knows she rocked their world just as much as she rocked mine ;) But it looks like Pili is determined to make The Bun her best friend. While Piko checks in, sniffs and stays a little bit before walking away, Pili no longer holds back now that The Bun is cruisin'. She licks her face (we monitor that because she can really give too much love sometimes) and tries to play with her! Pili will crouch down and bark because she wants to be chased. The Bun thinks this is hilarious and laughs. Most recently, she has started chasing Pili! Be careful what you wish for ;)
Happy 4th Birthday to our furry baby! I am so blessed to have a wonderful little family. Don't get me wrong, there is an unbelievable amount of poop generated by the three of them, sometimes cleaning gets overwhelming and I give up ... but they bring so much joy to The Man and me.

Happy belated 4th Birthday...I've been a bad puppy mama

My furry firstborn! Last week was her birthday and while I acknowledged her on a social network, I think she deserves a blog entry. Because she's my baby! :)

Little did we both know:
- she would get a little sister a month after Piko joined our family who we would nickname "monster" ... who Piko would grow to love in a torturer/victim sort of way.
- she would get her period even though I had asked the vet if we could do the surgery just less than a month before ("Oh no, she still has a ways to go before she gets her first period. She's still young and we don't want to be premature." Effer.)
- My dad would whisper to me, "She's become a little lady!"when he's the one that discovered Piko got her period. It's still one of my favorite quotes from my Dad.
- I would later have the audacity to bring home a hairless puppy that needed way more attention than the monster.

Piko is a great pup and is sort of the balance to her littler sister. She is affectionate but then has a little aloofness to her that reminds me of a cat. It's a gamble if she will come when you call her but when she decides it's time to give you some love, it's very very sweet.

I love my Piko and I can't believe she's only been with us for this long because it feels like she's been part of the family forever.

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Hey Baby

You're almost 10 months old. You are growing SO FAST now! And I'm not the greatest writer right now but I don't want to forget ...
1. You are crawling everywhere! Your little chub chub fingers LOVE electrical outlets (yah, your parents have quickly baby-proofed the plugs) and gone are the days where we could lie you in the middle of the bed, go to the bathroom and you would be lying in the same position:) Well, those days have been gone for a while. But we could get away with folding clothes on the bed while you lied or rolled around on the bed.
2. Nana & Papa taught you "Beautiful Eyes." This charms me to no end. See, I was taught this (batting eyes and blowing a kiss) when I was a baby and I would have never guessed that seeing you do this same silly thing would make my heart melt ten times over. Your dad keeps meaning to videotape you because you don't quite know how to bat your eyes. Or blow kisses. So it kind of looks like you have long blinks or a twitch and then you pucker your lips like you ate something sour. Oh. My. Goodness. So cute! And I know it's not just because I did it when I was little ... The Man thinks it's the cutest thing ever.
3. You can be a little dramatic. You fake cry but just when I think I know you're faking, you get riled up and then there are real tears. "Oh honey!" exclaims your mama! Talk about feeling like a bad mommy. I don't know if that's part of your game, baby girl, but you get picked up and cuddled within seconds ;) Well played, Bun.
4. You are a fantastic sleeper! I love you no matter what but, man, I really LIKE you for having great sleeping habits :) Of course, we stick to your bedroom routine as if we were getting paid to do it. But the PAY OFF (you sleeping through the night) is well worth it so we happily stick to your evening schedule.
5. The Great Teeth Fake Out. When you were around three months old, you had a white speck on your bottom gums. You were also drooling a lot in addition to your regular spitting up. Your dad and I thought a tooth was coming in. Your Nana swore a tooth was coming in. Even your day care provider seriously thought a tooth was coming in. Here we are, you at nearly 10 months of age, and no tooth. I don't mind because 1. I'm still breastfeeding and 2. you still have that sweet infant breath. But I know you're wishing you could join us at the dinner table.
Baby girl, in case you haven't figured it out yet, you have changed my life. I still have a hard time believing I'm a mom (maybe you will understand better when you're grown up.) It's not a bad thing but if you've read my previous entries, I'm not a woman who always knew she was going to be a mom. So knowing that I am yours and you are mine still blows my mind.
And I dread the time when you push me away because I am giving you too many kisses. But that's what you make me do. I see you and want to shower you with kisses and hugs. Especially when you first wake up. (You being a super chubby baby probably also makes you extraordinarily cuddly:)
Just like your dad, I think you bring out the best in me. I want to be a better person every day so that I'm good to you and you also have a good example while growing up. I LOVE YOU so much and you're STINKIN' ADORABLE.

Ode to the Bun

Sticky Bun, you are now nine months old. Just the other day, I had to lower your pack and play because you can pull yourself up to your knees and, sometimes, to your feet.
You are no longer bald in the back. I don't think you ever cared but it makes me happy.
You sleep so good now. I never take it for granted but, boy, do I feel it when you're having an off night!
You eat, eat, eat. And I LOVE those big ol' chubby cheeks you've got. It's became sort of your trademark.
You and I are very lucky I have a coworker/friend who had a daughter nearly a year older than you. She has been outfitting you for months, saving me money.
Although we are saving money there, I still have day care and other expenses so I've had to be an even better bargain shopper for my clothes. I've reintroduced myself to Old Navy. Now where to go for work clothes ...
Daddy wants another already. I just want to enjoy YOU for right now. Plus my c-section is still sore. True that.
Your nana and papa rock. We are very lucky to have them so close by and the fact they are willing to watch you part time during the week. Saves us a lot of money and, of course, we know that you are loved and cared for every minute you are there. (I'll worry about the spoiling factor later.)
You are wonderful. We love you so much. Sometimes it can be challenging but your Daddy is very supportive and very much an active parent. I love him lots. We're a good family.
And when you're in therapy as an adult for whatever reason, and you show your therapist this blog because it's caused you anxiety or embarrassment, don't forget that I wrote we love you and YOU'RE WELCOME for giving you a good family :)

Sinking in

1/3 of my colleagues are gone. One of my absolutely favorite team members was also let go.
We all know we shouldn't blog about work because it could be TROUBLE.
But this isn't an entry full of resentment, hostility or hate.
I'm just sad. Because many have been around for a long time and I've admired their work. I know times are tough and companies need to make tough decisions.
But man.

Made the choice to NOT go with the life-changing decision

This is when I'm not sure where this clearly goes. Is it not suitable for a public blog? Or is it OK? Whenever discussing The J-O-B, even if it's positive or just not necessarily negative, it's a questionable gray area.
I'm still unclear of what I can write without possibly putting myself in the trouble zone. So I will just leave at that. I chose not to make a life-changing decision. And while I feel over all good about this decision and know it was the right one, I kind of mourn the old me, the one would have made the other choice. Because until this situation, I didn't realize that there was new me and an old me. I thought I was same ol' me. But I'm not.

7 going on 8 months

My baby amazes me and The Man every day. Truly, just about every darn day. Ahhh, don't we smack of new parents? ;) When she does something that absolutely knocks my socks off, I think a couple of things:
1. The Bun is freakin' AWESOME!
2. This is ridiculous. I've seen many babies do exactly the same thing and not care a bit.

For instance, she can now hold her bottle and feed herself. You would have thought she figured out world peace, I was so excited. See, she's primarily breastfed and only every so often has a bottle. Sure, she's taken a bottle for a while now but she hasn't been able to hold it. And because I breastfeed her, there's hardly a time for me to teach her to hold a bottle. But just this week, my mom surprised me and said, "Look! She's figured out how to hold a bottle!" Shortly thereafter, she also figured out how to put it in her mouth. (I should ask The Man to videotape her. Because it is hilarious seeing the trial and error of that. She's bipped her nose, eye and just about every part of her face. No worries, she never gets hurt.)

Here are some other cool things she's doing that I know other babies have done, some even sooner but I don't give two hoots. I still think she's a kick ass baby:
* She sits up
* She scoots backwards
* She has consistently slept through the night (by my standards, not "7 hours = full night = 2:30 AM" standards) ... not all the time but most of the time now
* The one above is such a big deal that I'm going to highlight that one again
* She is so generous w/ her smiles
* She is very strong (girlfriend has a baby Kung Fu grip that can bring the pain)

I'm sure there's more but that's just off the top of my head.

I'm not delusional. I know she's your middle-of-the-road baby to everyone else. And there are times when having a baby is extremely challenging. To be perfectly honest, it can be very hard at times. But to me, she is just so so special. She makes everything worth it and she certainly makes sure the good outweigh the bad. I love The Bun.
-----------------------------
6/10/10 Update: I guess I am superstitious ... I knew there was a reason why I stopped mentioning The Bun's sleeping pattern on FaceBook! I feared the minute I wrote she slept 10-12 hours, she would stop. And last night, after writing this entry, she woke up three times. Son of a biscuit.

Just wrote a whole post that took an hour

And the GD blogger erased it.
Well son of a biscuit. (I'm highly irritated. No, I'm PISSED, so I'm going to walk away now.)

Baby spit up

*We are ALL sick in The Household. I thought I was immune because I didn't catch anything for a full week. But The Man & Bun proved to be too strong. Or, at least, their virus. Ick. But here's a little gem I didn't want to forget for The Bun to read later.*

Since The Bun was born, she had a serious spit up problem. We talked to her pediatrician and he said that it's normal for some babies. Because she was so small and because she spit up so much, we had to track her poop to make sure she was eating and keeping enough in. Because we couldn't measure her food intake due to being breastfed.

Well, we were told by her pediatrician that the spitting up would taper off around four months. It took SIX. Doesn't sound like a big deal? I mean, smack a bib on her and call it a day, right? She would spit up so much it was like she was throwing up. The only reason we knew that we shouldn't be alarmed was because it wasn't projectile spit up (which would make it throw up.) Since her pediatrician wasn't concerned, we weren't concerned. Well, "we" being her parents. Her grandparents, however, were always concerned. We were asked over and over again if this was normal because they had never seen a baby spit up so much. A good thing to say to new parents, by the way. But once The Bun plumped up, they stopped worrying. Because, for them, that was the best measurement of her food intake.

As my dad eloquently put it, "Your daughter's like a drunk. She babbles and then vomits. And then she keeps babbling like nothing happened." Thanks, Dad!

I think our doctor may be The Man

at the very least, a professional bad ass.

Let me back track. The Man, my hubby, had Anthem Blue Cross health insurance for the longest time. When I became pregnant, we discussed and deliberated for a while about him moving to Kaiser Permanente. He let me make the decision. When he had open enrollment in December, we moved him to KP and added The Bun and me to his insurance. I wanted to do this for several reasons:

1. If the economy took a turn for the worse and I somehow lost my job, Ava & I would be covered and would be able to keep our doctors.
2. Which may actually be 1a. I LOVE my ObGyn. I loved her before I was pregnant and she became even more endearing when I was with child :) I find her to be capable, professional, sympathetic, attentive and accessible. I also really like my primary physician. I don't see her nearly as much as my ObGyn but she's direct, courteous and has been spot on so far. I'm also comfortable with KP's Optometry, Dermatology, Psychology, Prenatal departments & programs.
3. The Bun has a kick ass Pediatrician. He's even been recognized locally as an outstanding doctor. Enough said.
4. We live so close to both the hospital and the medical offices. Sooooo important and such an advantage, I've realized.
5. The Man's current (well, at the time we were figuring out if we should change his health care coverage) primary physician was awful. How awful? Unprofessional, lazy and ethically questionable. Throughout the years, when I was able coerce my husband into seeing a doctor for various ailments, his experiences would make me cringe. Oh sure, the doctor was nice enough. But he asked inappropriate questions, would make inappropriate comments and, in a nutshell, was what I called a Major Douche.

All right, I have a point. Other than the fact I'm a big fan of Kaiser Permanente. I know, some people don't like it or have had terrible experiences. And I've proclaimed it on Facebook and I'll proclaim it here. I think KP tends to get a bad rep because they are so huge and have so many patients that bad experiences are bound to happen to do the sheer volume of people who have health care under KP. I have been very fortunate. I have either had excellent luck of the draw and ended up with a fantastic doctor or I've received a referral and ended up with a fantastic doctor. I also think the programs and services they offer their patients, particularly pregnant patients, are superb.

But anyway.

As I mentioned in previous entry, on one day I took The Bun to her doctor's appointment and then accompanied The Man on his first doctor's appointment with Kaiser. His previous experience was with smaller, much more intimate doctor's offices so I could see how he would want company on his first KP visit. And I was really happy that when he moved from Blue Cross to KP and needed to choose a doctor, MY primary physician was available. (As you KP peeps may know, that doesn't always happen.) I was so excited because if I left it up to him, he would take months to choose a doctor. Probably until he was on death's door and he would pick anyone who would see him. He was relieved that he got a doctor that was referred by a reliable source. Me!

He said that his check up was much more thorough than the once from Major Douche. I kind of figured that would happen. And when our doctor saw the results from his blood pressure check, she said something to the effect of, "Your blood pressure is high. How long has it been since your blood pressure has been checked?" He said 2004 when Major Douche told him it was high but The Man did not want to be put on meds so he lowered it through diet and exercise. But did Major Douche stay on top of it and keep monitoring it? NO.

Let me go off for a minute because I LOVE my husband so much it hurts. I figured his high blood pressure would return. I work for an organization that is the leading funder in the nation (outside of the government) of heart disease and stroke research and prevention. I KNOW that his health may be in danger. But I don't have Dr preceding my name. And I'm his wife. So after one fight about me nagging him, I've steered clear. I kind of doubted myself, anyway, because of the fact that I wasn't a doctor. I felt like I was hypocrite, too, since I didn't eat the healthiest. He always points out my love for chocolate. Yes, I am a chocaholic.

Well, let me tell you, our primary physician is a bad ass. And may have to take the title of The Man. Because she laid it all out. She went on to say something along the lines of, "We need to lower your blood pressure right away. I'm concerned because this has gone untreated for years. You may feel fine but that's because you won't feel anything. You won't feel the damage it's doing to your heart. Until you have a heart attack or stroke. But any damage that has been done is permanent and irreversible. So we must do something about this right away. You need to start a low salt diet and you will have to do more exercise. I am going to schedule an appointment with you in six weeks. If your blood pressure hasn't gone down, we will need to put you on blood pressure medication."

Word, doctor. WORD.

My husband is great. He actually cares about his health, I KNOW he does. But I see how having a crappy and negligent doctor can give a person a false sense of good health. After all, if Major Douche wasn't concerned (even though we both knew he was a Major Douche), why should The Man be? I get it. But I'm glad our doctor said what she said. Because I knew he HEARD her. And he knows how much our family needs him to be around for a good looooong time. So he's going to take off work a little early and go to his follow up appointment. And he's already reading up on how he can lower his blood pressure through diet.

Say what you will about KP. And hell, I'm sure I'm going to end up eventually with a bad experience because that's what the odds are, right? But I am so glad we made the decision to all be under Kaiser Permanente. I received what I think was some of the best treatment during my pregnancy, throughout my labor and delivery and post partum. My daughter, the light of my life, has a doctor that I am 100% confident has her best interest in mind. And now I feel like my husband is getting the health care he needs and deserves.

PS: I also believe in Chiropractic care and other holistic treatments. I think Chiropractic is a primary reason I had a healthy and relatively easy (health-wise) pregnancy. But that's a whole other entry!

Oh hell, what was I going to blog about?

Oh hell, even though I had one night of good sleep last night, the four bad nights prior have really messed with my head.
Serious.
I kept thinking, got to make time to write an entry. I don't want to forget [such and such]. But I don't remember the such and such!
It's been a rough few days in The household. The Man has been sick. The Man got The Bun sick. The Man and I got into a spat. We got over it but I felt like I couldn't ask The Man to help with The Bun because he was sick. It got so bad that I slept with The Bun (haven't done that since she was a newborn) but it didn't help, poor thing.
There has been challenges at work but, in the end, I am very happy to be employed and don't want to screw that up.
I was having awful sleep not just because The Bun was waking up but because, due to his sickness, The Man was snoring the loudest he has ever snored. EVER. No, not exaggerating. It is so loud that it would wake me up like an alarm clock. Between the two of them, I was getting very little sleep. Maybe 1/2 hour at a time.
I was drinking three cups of coffee a day. Finally, I asked The Man if he could take night time duty last night because I was afraid I was going to crash my car during the day. Yesterday I was Super Mama. I had taken The Bun to her doctor's appointment. Later, I took The Man to HIS doctor's appointment (at his request.) Although he was still coughing, I had gone with him to his doctor's appointment and found out he sounded worse than he was. Well, SHOOT. Hellz yah I was going to ask him to man up (hehe, man up) and let me sleep. To be fair to him, I hadn't asked until this moment. I knew he was sick yet working so I figured I should take one for the team. His cough sounded awful. It still does. But the doc assured us that it wasn't pneumonia or anything serious. It was a cold but really bad allergies too. Sweet.
Upon hearing the doc's diagnosis, I asked him to sleep in the spare room (which is what I did the night before) so I wouldn't hear him snore. He doesn't typically take night duty because I'll wake up anyway. I swear I have sonic hearing when it comes to The Bun's crying. I think moms are programmed that way. I have to put the monitor at the lowest volume but still wake up really easily. He has to put it at its loudest or else he won't hear her. When we are both in the same room, I end up waking up first. But since he was sleeping in the spare, he could do this without waking me. Win win!!!! Well, for me.
He had to wake up 3x but only had to feed her once. We found out from daycare that she takes formula pretty easily but she's still 95% breast milk. Since formula is super easy to prepare, he went ahead and used it. And let me tell you, say what you will about formula but dammit it's freed this mama!!! Because thawing and warming up b-milk is a pain, it's the primary reason I always took the night shift. Prepping b-milk is no fun and since mine are on tap, it's just so much easier for me to feed her during the night. But now we know we BOTH can feed her easily. [insert happy dance] Hallelujah!
I know, I'm babbling. And I also remember what I was going to blog about. The Man's doc visit! But that will be the next entry.

Mad, mad, mad

A blog is no place to write about frustrations one has, personally or professionally unless one doesn't care about the repercussions.
I do.
But man I wish I could go OFF sometimes.

I have been hit with the suburban wife stick

My husband gave me this for our two year anniversary:


I was really pleasantly surprised! I had been wanting one since our last one died. But it was a want not a need so it wasn't on our priority list.
So far we've only cooked the dogs' dinner with it and made one meal. Which was disappointing. But I know it's got such potential so I'm still looking forward to putting it to good use!
And look what I stumbled across: http://crockpot365.blogspot.com/ (found it while tooling around Facebook. Oh how I love FB, you little sinful thing, you.) **CORRECTION: MY BUD, A LITTLE HAWAII IN INDIA SENT THIS TO ME BUT I PLUM FORGOT! THANKS FOR SENDING THIS TO ME, JEN!**
Have mercy upon this workin' mama and send me your yummy slow cooker recipes!

All that's missing are the pups ...

When the daily grind gets on my nerves, I try my hardest to remember what really matters and how truly blessed I really am.
When people say or write, "I love my life" I tend to think they are cocky. So what I will say/write is that I feel very fortunate and these two people (and pups) fill my heart.
Oh, don't you worry. I'm still sarcastic and have plenty to gripe about it ;) But, in my 30s, I'm so glad that something kicked me in the rear and gave me some real perspective. My household, family and friends are so dear to me. Love, love, love them. I meant it 100% when I wrote in my little FB profile, "I surround myself with wonderful, amazing, intelligent, giving and loving people. I believe I am the company I keep and they make me strive to be a better person. I think my family and friends are exceptional."

In cyber-mourning

As I was visiting the links I put on the side of my blog way back when, I realized that there are a lot of dead blogs out there. I'm related to a few of them.
I miss you guys. And I'm thankful for the less-than-handful left that I have to read. Sure, I read some written by strangers. But I used to have just as many written by people I know. Some were friends that moved away. I even had a few that I had grown closer to because I got to know them better through their blogs.
But just like all other sources of social networking and media, it appears to be evolving and changing faster than I can keep up.
We are a dying breed, my friends. I say, bring the blog fad back!

Happy Friday, love bugs.

Sometimes I hate being a new parent ...

... because I get so paranoid about change. And if there's anything a baby does is CHANGE.
Since our little one was four weeks old, she's been sleeping in a Snuggle Nest.

This is how it works:

The Bun slept in this when she was in our room. I think it helped make her transition to a crib and her own room as easy as it was.
But things are a-changin'.
She slept horribly last night because she has rolling over down to an art. In fact, she threw half her body over the side of the Snuggle Nest one of those times. Of course, this made sleeping uncomfortable and she cried.
Tonight we say goodbye to the Snuggle Nest. My baby is now freely rolling all over the crib. I'm sure it sounds like there's nothing to worry about it. It's a crib, for crying out loud. It's MADE for babies. But I am thinking of all sorts of crazy predicaments The Bun can get into not having her baby bed. Her training bed! You don't know what kind of trouble my Little Houdini can get into. Only this mama knows which is why I'm paranoid.
And here is yet another great example why I hate being a new parent. "Get it together, woman!"

Most fun. To Date.

OK, I think this is it. I think six months is my favorite age. So far :)
I have a pretty fantastic baby. Yah, yah, all moms say that, right?
Well I'm a pretty honest person. I'm nice, too, so I don't share my thoughts if I think they're too mean or inappropriate. But I'm pretty honest.
Some parts of these past six months have been really hard. And some not so fun. (Like the sleep deprivation.) But I know I've blessed with an easy going baby. I have to say, though, that right now is probably when I'm having the most fun with her.
She gives big smiles. Well, she has for a while but it also goes along with her being more active. Her hand-eye coordination is so much fun to watch now. For instance, she's had these toys dangling on the handle of her carseat (which doubles as her stroller) forever. Well, just about her entire life, shy of two weeks. She's FINALLY batting at them. I told The Man, I bet she thought, "Finally! These GD things have been teasing me this entire time. Now I can finally show them who's boss!"
Oh yes, side note. To amuse ourselves, both The Man and I give her voices and obviously, thoughts. If what we say she's thinking is true, she is one of the most sarcastic babies in the world. We've both said that if she is anything like us, she is going to be one smart ass child. Hopefully, it's possible to be both a smart ass and respectful :)
The Bun moves around a lot. She figured out how to flip on to her stomach. Freaks out The Man because it's practically beat into your head that babies should be put on their backs to sleep. I'm not so freaked out because I'm a tummy sleeper and have been since birth. Anyway, when we stopped swaddling her, she figured out how to flip from her back to her tummy (she's known how to flip from her tummy to her back for a while - have I bored you yet?) Now that she's figured this out, she sleeps for longer periods of time. In other words, she sleeps really well. Like 10 hours well.
It's hard to give examples of why she's so cool to watch now. But she is. I've loved her ever since I knew she existed. But it's exciting to see her grow and become more aware and engaged. And it's even more fun getting to see her personality evolve.
Yup, this is my favorite time. And I hope it just gets better.

It's been nearly 15 years ...

since I saw some of my aunts, uncles and cousins. Well, they're more family friends but basically people I grew up with but haven't seen since I graduated from high school. The only reason I remember that is because most of them were at my graduation party.
Why does it take a death in the family (or close knit group of friends) to bring people together?
An uncle passed away this week. He and my aunt have been family friends since I can remember. Probably way before I was born.
My sister had this really cool idea at her wedding reception. Instead of subjecting the single women to catching the bouquet (I've always hated that), she asked all the couples to get on the dance floor. Every couple of minutes, the DJ would say something like, "If you've been married one year or less, please leave the dance floor" "If you've been married five years or less, please leave the dance floor" until he was up to fifty plus years. This particular uncle and aunt, at my sister's wedding, had been married the longest and his wife got my sister's bouquet.
That was almost 11 years ago.
From what I understand, his health had been failing him for quite some time now. While I've always liked him, we've never been super close. But I'm sad that he's gone. He and his wife had a long and lasting marriage that we young bucks can only hope and dream of. And I also think about how my parents and how they're getting along in age. It makes me sad. I try ignore the fact my dad walks slower and my mom's becoming more and more physically challenged.
And now with The Bun here, I see how precious time is and how much I want her to know her Nana & Papa and to love them with all her heart.

Is blogging the new VHS tape?

Oh Facebook, what have you done?!
I know I've written about this before. Apologizing to all 1 1/2 people that read my blog for not writing nearly as much as before. I used to write so much! And then ...
Facebook.
Well, I'm sure having a baby, a full-time job, two puppies and, oh that's right, a husband!, have something to do with it.
I miss writing. I like reflecting and seeing what I cared about or deemed interesting a few years ago. And this here blog has been with me through three jobs! Luckily, only one man who's still around ;) (Shout out to The Man who knows I write about him here and on FB. Of course, it helps that I write exceedingly flattering things about him.) But the small group that once served as an reciprocal audience has gotten A LOT smaller. Should it matter? I mean, I'm supposed to be writing for myself! But it is fun to get feedback and some sort of reaction.
*sigh* Well, I'm going to stick it out. Maybe Facebook, like computers, will be passing fad.

Furlough FUN week!

I'm not doing anything spectacular. Just hanging out with the babe and in-laws who are in town. Today I went to boot camp. I absolutely dread going and sometimes talk myself into not going. But once I'm there ... well, I'm still kind of hating life. But AFTER I'm done and I've left, I feel really good. Like a bad ass, actually ;) So if I can just win the good fight with myself (and not talk myself out of going) I plan on going at least one more time this week. Hopefully TWO.
I'm really excited to see that a yoga studio is opening up super close to my house. Within 5 minutes driving. YES. Now the only thing is working out the baby sitting situation. I'm hoping that it can be worked out. See, I can't expect The Man to watch her when he gets home. It's just not fair. Sure, once in a while for special occasions but we both readily admit that it's hard when once of us isn't home in the evening. It's when she is most fussy and we also have the pups! They need to get fed, the grown ups need to be fed and the Bun needs food, changing, and TLC. So going at night is not an option. *sigh* Hopefully something will come about. I even suggested having classes where moms can workout with their babies. The studio said they are trying to work that out. Now THAT would be nice. Until then, I sneek into boot camp here and there and go on walks with a stroller and two dogs.

Blessing in disguise

I have a furlough week at the end of the month. Because I maxed out my PTO, this is going to be an unpaid week off (we have the option to use our PTO so it becomes sort of a mandatory vacation.) Although I could really use the money, I'm looking forward to a glimpse of what my life was like when I was on maternity leave. I'd like to say that I'm going to plan really cool outings with The Bun but I would rather relax, hang around the house and maybe plan one or two things for the week.
But Bun seems to be happiest at the beginning of the day so I'm really looking forward to our chill-out mornings. Here's to a Mommy Spring Break - no girls going wild here!

The Man fooling around...

with photos ....

Where does the time go?

I remember when I wrote a lot more. But I think that's happened to everyone that I read, as well. I also blame Facebook - damn the instant gratification!
Back to work. It's so busy. I will be celebrating my three year anniversary in a month. I was in school forever (w/ a ton of internships under my belt) so I know that's a solid excuse but I can't believe that three years is the longest I've been at a company!
Times are tough everywhere so of course the non profit sector has taken a hit. But I don't plan on going anywhere. I'm so thankful that I've learned that I really enjoy mission-driven work (not to be confused for a missionary worker. I'm just saying.) So I'm weathering the storm with the hope that things will look up for our economy. Unfortunately, all the cuts to public education directly affects my job so I am both sympathetic and a little depressed. I work with amazing volunteers who's jobs seem to be more and more in danger. Then I think about how Bun will be going to school in a few years ... and I can't help but be worried.
Anyway, I'm busy catching up on four and a half months of work. And I mean BUSY.
Bun has been going to my parents house and, every so often, her daycare. I love, love, love my parents and am so grateful to them. So is my pocketbook. Speaking of which, it STUNK not getting paid my last month. I made the decision, I don't regret it, but it stunk nevertheless! So I'm so grateful to my parents because not only are they giving Bun so much love and attention but they are helping me save money. Our daycare is actually very inexpensive but any amount hurts the wallet.
OK, got to wake up the baby, feed, change and get us out the door ASAP!

I don't think this makes me a bad mama but ...

... I looooooove this pout! Love, love, love it. It makes me say, "Awwww honey!" and shower her with kisses. Then her pout is gone! It usually appears and goes away so quickly that I thought I would never be able to capture it in a photo. And sure, rather than comforting her right away this one time, I picked up a camera. But now I have this expression captured forever :)

Updates and such

The Bun turned 4 months old this week. Wow. While she is still so little, it feels like she's been around for much longer because I can't really remember how every day life was like without her.
She still favors her right hand (she thinks it's really cool every time she sees it) but she knows she also had a left one now. And The Bun has this habit of rubbing them together like she's devising this evil plan to take over the world.
Really.
The Bun also has quite the kung fu baby grip. It hurts terribly when she feels like grabbing skin or hair. Other than that, she just likes to feel things and that isn't so bad.
In one week and a day, I go back to work. We all know the many feelings I have about that.
The Man and I are doing well. But he's been having to deal with property drama (with a home he bought prior to our marriage) and it has been extremely stressful. I feel so bad for him and it affects the quality time he has w/ The Bun. Instead of being able to spend time with his daughter, he has to call or email many folks and it eats up much of the evenings. Plus it puts him in a bad mood which I don't blame him because it really is stressful. He by no means takes it out on me or the baby but who wouldn't want to see the person she loves in a GOOD mood? Plus that leaves me alone to take care of the baby. But other than that, we are doing well and I'm thankful.
The pups have been baaaaaad lately. I think it's just one but unless you catch her in the act, we have to assume it's both. Two weeks ago, one of the peed upstairs on the carpet. Last week, someone pooped downstairs on the carpet. Yesterday, I found pee in the middle of the hallway. Also on the carpet. I have been absolutely furious because it's ME who discovered these crimes so it's ME who has to clean them. Mad, mad, mad. I haven't gotten physical (one, because unless the pup is caught in the act, she won't have any idea why I'm punishing her and two, I don't know which one did it!) but there has been a whole lot of yelling. LOTS. Yes, they are my furry babies but dammit I hate cleaning up that kind of stuff, especially on carpet!
Anyway, got to get ready for my Mommy group before she wakes up. I want to enjoy every little moment we have of bonding before going back to the j-o-b.

Roughly two weeks left ...

and then mama's back to the j-o-b. Although it feels like time has just flown by, crazily enough, I also can hardly remember my routine without The Bun. So going back to work seems so foreign to me right now.
I know most mommies go through this. But it truly feels like I'm entering a whole new chapter in my life. I'm not necessarily sad, I think it's more bittersweet. I know that I need to earn my keep ;) But I feel like Bun and I just figured things out and now it's going to be changed up again. I didn't realize how much I actually enjoy predictability until I had a baby.
She is teaching me so much. Patience, selflessness, love - even at 3 in the morning.
She's even taught me to not be so anxious ... who would have thought? But a person can only listen to her baby monitor at full volume for so long. It also helps that Bun is a snorter so I am oddly comforted by her snoring in the wee hours of the morning :)
OK, I lied. Well, unintentionally. As I'm writing this, I am getting sad. Part of me wants to go back to work and have that part of me that existed before I was a mommy. The part that helped define me - a working woman contributing to society. But I also want to be the person who sees The Bun's firsts FIRST. I want to be the person who plays with her in the morning and helps intoduce the new day to her. The person who showers The Bun with kisses after each diaper change.
But it will be OK. We will have new adventures. New routines. New milestones. And boy oh boy, I loooooooove my mom and am so grateful to her and her willingness to do pro-bono daycare:) She is awesome.

Sleep

I was so spoiled. The Bun had been sleeping over nine hours these past few weeks. Then she would sleep another 2-3 hours, sleeping a total of around 12. Yes, TWELVE. And then five nights ago, we went back to our old routine. Waking up at 2:30am and then at 7:00am.
*Sigh*
Just when I thought we were making progress! But the ladies with older babies from my Mommy group said that they all went through the same thing around four months.
Well, it was nice while it lasted.

1/27/10 edit: Last night, she woke up at 12am, 3am, 4am, and 5:30am. I wanted to kick my husband. Not because I thought it was his fault but I can't very well kick the baby. Or the pups. Well, guess I can't kick anyone, can I?

Pups, turn overs, grabbing and such

Dear Bun,

The pups still respect your space. Well, if they can see you. When I cover your legs with a blanket, Pili has a bad tendency to step on the blanket, not knowing she's actually stepping on you. But whenever you cry hard, your furry sisters come racing to you and then giving me this look like, "Well? Aren't you going to DO something? FIX HER!" Although I know Piko loves you too, Pili is the one that comes into your room when your Daddy and I go through the night time routine and say good night to you. What's funny is that she sometimes forgets that when we turn off the light, it's time to go. We have to prompt her. We know this because, one time, we left your room and heard a couple minutes later one bark. Just one. Daddy quietly opened your door and Pili was waiting patiently on the other side. I thought it was very polite of her not to want to wake you.
You recently learned to turn over from your stomach to your back. I'm happy for you but I can't help dread that days I can leave you on my bed like an upside down turtle are gone. You are still slow to turn over but I know that rolling is just around the corner.
You are grabbing more and more. Last week, you grabbed my glasses. You constantly grab my hair but you've been doing that for a while so I suppose I'll be wearing ponytails, buns and braids until you're five.
Next week, I'll write about your teeth coming in (oh lawdee, you are NOT happy about that!), finding a daycare provider and our maternity leave time coming to an end. I'm not excited about that but I know you will be in good hands.

Love,
Mama

3+ months

Dear Sticky Bun,

I really wanted to document every little thing you do but time has escaped me. And after I tuck you into bed, I'm in no shape to try to string sentences together on this little blog. So let me try to do a recap:
A couple of weeks ago, you discovered your right fist. It is seriously the most awesomest thing ever in your life right now. Seriously. And every time you move it out of your line of sight and then move it back, it's like Christmas Day all over again. It makes me and your Daddy laugh. We're looking forward to you discovering your left hand. You found it a couple of times but lost it and then forgot all about it so we don't count that yet.
I LOVE your pout. I think you've had that for at least a month. I didn't know that pouting was a natural expression. I guess I thought it was something toddlers learned to copy. Your pout is the CUTEST. THING. EVER. I try not to get caught up in it because I know that you are THIIIIIIIIIS close to crying and I need to tend to the matter at hand. But darn it, that pout is something else. And I don't think I'll ever be quick enough to capture it on camera (because, as I wrote, it usually quickly leads to crying) but it is sooo cute.
You are a champion sleeper. Over the past few weeks (again, I wish I had been good documenting all this because I love precise information ... but that's your mama being anal), we slowly moved you from going to bed at 10:00pm to 8:30pm. We have two white noise machines for you because you seem to take to them. Your Aunt Tiff remarked during her visit that it sounded like crashing waves when she passed by your room ... we take white noise very seriously since it seems to work for you.
You usually refuse your pacifier when we tuck you in but within 10 minutes to an hour, you typically cry a little. So your daddy or I sneak in, do what we call the "binkie push", and leave. Bless your little heart, that's all you need. When we first moved you into your own room, I turned the baby monitor all the way up because I was, quite frankly, freaking out at the thought of you by yourself. But you hardly cried and figured out how to settle yourself and eventually go to sleep.
Oh! I should mention that you started sleeping in your own room Thanksgiving week. I THOUGHT I was ready for that but I was a little bit of a mess when we moved all your stuff from our room to yours. I kept muttering, "I'm not ready, I'm not ready" but your Daddy thought it was time. Your Lola was visiting for the holiday so she slept in your room to make sure you were OK. Guess what? We discovered you sleep far better in your own room than in ours.
For a while now, you only wake up once during the night. You are now up to eight hours. You will probably figure this out as you get older but your mama LOVES predictability and routine. Which is not at all how babies are at all;) Sometimes, you will sleep up 10+ hours straight which FREAKS ME OUT. I admit, I always check on you to make sure you're OK. Other times, you will sleep 5-6 hours and need your after midnight feeding. It just depends. And sometimes, yes sometimes, you are like a rooster and get up at 6:30am!
Thank you for being a good sleeper. Not that you could control it if you weren't. But I'm very thankful because I LOVE my sleep and am a sad sack of somethin' else when I don't get it. But you are such a sleep champion. And, I've learned from other mommies that I'm really really really lucky. I don't take this blessing lightly, I'm thankful each and every day for this. Did I thank you for being a good sleeper? Let me thank you again :)
I have less than a month left of maternity leave. I have mixed feeling about this. I'm certain that I don't have what it takes to be stay-at-home mom. This, as with all occupations, is a special calling that I just don't posses.) But with tremendous help from your Nana, I have been able to enjoy spending all this time with you. And my heart breaks just a little to think that I may not be the first person to see you discover or do something new because I'll be at work. But I know that you are in fantastic and loving hands and for that I am also thankful. You being here has given me a new appreciation and respect for your Nana. She LOVES you to pieces and, now being a mama myself, I realize that she's kind of a super hero. And so is your Papa :) (He has been treating us to home cooked meals every so often!)
You are amazing and, just like any mommy, I think you are the best baby ever. Your Auntie Cons and grandparents all told me from the beginning that you were an easy going baby. They were amazed how little you cried and how much you sleep. I was hormonal and sleep deprived so I didn't really have good judgement. But, over three months later, this looks to be your personality. You are so wonderful. In fact, so very wonderful that your daddy talks about having another one. (I'll share with you my battle scar one day so you too can look at Daddy like he's crazy.)
I love you, Sticky Bun, and I'll try to be better about writing all about you so we can remember all these small but significant moments. Oh yes, next time, I'll write about how the pups love but stay away from you. Like you are a mob boss or something - they respect you, want to protect you ... but they stay far out of your way.

Love,
Mama

2010 ... what's next?

2009 was a HUGE year for me. For us. We bought our first home together. And moved in while pregnant. It felt like I was pregnant FOREVER! Probably because I was for a good chunk of 2009 ;)
And then the arrival of our Sticky Bun.
Life changing.
What's going to happen in 2010? I would be perfectly happy if we just what we have right now. I don't want to be selfish and wish for a lot - we've been so blessed. Maybe professional growth? Yes, I would like that. And good health for all those that I love.
It's hard to believe that I'm going back to work in about six weeks. I am so thankful for the time I've been able to spend with SB. All the good times has certainly outweighed the rough patch in the beginning. She is a pretty cool baby. And I have outstanding support from my parents, Sister & mom-in-law.
Yes, I am so thankful for all the blessings I received in 2009. It was a really good year for us. Here's to good health and continued happiness in 2010!

Sticky Bun's 11 1/2 weeks

Video by The Man:

How cute is she?

My little girl. What a gift. I think God knew what I could handle and gave me one of the easiest going babies ever. I feel blessed. Sure, I wake up in the middle of the night, and my schedule is dictated by her but I get to look at THIS.
So, to quote her auntie, "How cute is she? Sooooooo cute."
Merry Christmas, baby girl.

After Birth

I wrote a post all about the details of my experience after SB was born. And I realized that it could be discouraging to those, like myself, who have concerns about labor and delivery. Or misconstrued as extremely negative.

I love my baby with all my heart. She is AMAZING and yes, I believe she is THE BEST BABY in the entire world :) But I wish someone had sat me down and told me, "You may not have the Hallmark experience most moms talk about. You may be extremely terrified of your baby at first and not want to hold her. And that's OK." Then again, maybe I would have looked at the person like they had three legs and tell them to step back.

It's a tricky thing. When I was nine months pregnant, I didn't want to hear anything negative because I was already scared about the labor and delivery, I didn't need to think of what would happen when I took the baby home! I just wanted to hear how well I was handling the pregnancy (at least, to others) and how excited people were for me. I recently had a conversation with a mom who reminded me that she had, indeed, told me how hard a baby could be. She said, "Don't you remember? I told you it was going to be really really hard. And I told you that I personally thought the infant stage sucked and it was the part of having a child that was the toughest for me. Remember?" That's right. She DID say that! And then I remembered thinking, "What the HELL is wrong with her?! I don't want to hear that right now. I'm PREGNANT!"

Well, perhaps the delivery of her message lacked finesse. Or tact. But she was right. She had tried to warn me.

Most moms who I talked to throughout my pregnancy told me how wonderful it was going to be for me. They made me feel like I was joining an elite group. That being a mommy would be the best thing in the whole wide world. And I'm grateful for them saying that to me because, being all big and emotional, it's what I needed to hear. There is, though, this other part that I didn't really know about.

The first week after giving birth, I think I was still stunned from surgery and a bit loopy from pain medication. The second and third weeks were extremely difficult. I definitely did NOT have Hallmark moments with Sticky Bun. I cried every day, sometimes several times a day. I would wake up, look at my baby in her co-sleeper, and be terrified that she would wake up and start crying. And when she would cry, I would feel bad that I couldn't soothe her. Like I had let her down and every time it proved I wasn't meant to be a mom. I was more than happy to let my sister, mom, husband or anyone close to me hold her because they would probably do a better job.

Another horrible hormonal mind f*ck (because, really, I don't know what else to call it) I had was that I truly and honestly thought that my marriage was doomed. I sincerely believed that we were on our way to getting a divorce because how would it ever survive my crying and sleep deprivation? I was convinced that the love of my life would eventually leave me. It didn't help that I hardly saw my husband because his work shift changed right after I gave birth and he was now working from 3pm to 12am.

I could go on and on about the depressing things I thought. But I won't. That is in the other entry I wrote. And I'm keeping that entry so I never forget. IF I decide to have another child, I want to remember what I had gone through before to prove that it really does get better, even though, at the time it doesn't feel like it will. I also want to read that entry when I'm trying to decide if we should try again to have another:) I don't want to forget anything and I want to make the best decision possible when that time comes around again. I guess I could say I want to make an informed decision.

I am so glad that things eventually got better. One weekend, I stopped crying. And I didn't want to get too excited because I wasn't sure if my hormones would go out of wack again. But, thankfully, they didn't. I was able to think positively and I was able to see and believe that The Man was in it for the long haul. I realized that I should take the help my mom was offering and that it didn't mean that I was an awful mom by doing so. I was able to enjoy time with my baby.

I feel so bad for mommies that get the Baby Blues (what I had) or Post Partum Depression. Because you always hear how being a mommy is the best thing that could ever happen to a woman. And when you don't have those feelings that you're supposed to feel a week after taking home your baby, you feel GUILTY, freakish, and question what the hell is wrong with you. In addition to feeling like you have no skills to protect let alone mother your baby. And then all the feelings you have outside of having a baby, like marriage and self image. At least, that's how I felt with Baby Blues. I can't even imagine going through PPD.

My point? Since I'm sort of drilling in the despression over and over again. Don't be dismayed if you end up having these feelings. Don't be afraid or ashamed to seek help. I didn't want to talk to anyone about it but my Sister convinced me to go to a Mommy group. And to also talk to my OB-GYN. My doc, in turn, asked that I talk to a psychologist. Yes, by the time I saw her, things were much better. But if I had PPD, then I could have received counseling and/or medication.

Also, sympathize with new mommies. Don't judge her because her baby is in an ugly, mis-matched outfit. And missing a sock. Or she's in that mommy sweats outfit looking a bit sloppy. And her hair looks like hell. As long as she and her baby looks healthy, kudos to her. Because it is true - nothing rocks your world harder than having a baby. They have either just have their vaginas ripped to shreds or had their womb (skin & muscle) cut open and innards taken out and then put back in. For sure their hormontes are raging. And THEN they're given this baby that needs so much all the time. Yes, motherhood is beautiful. I truly believe that. But it is also one of the hardest things if not THE hardest thing a woman has to go through because it's a challenging process that starts with 10 months and then the really hard work begins. But I hear it's pretty rewarding ... and nine weeks into it, I agree.

Birth Story Part III

It has been nearly seven weeks since I delivered Sticky Bun and my memories are fading. I had better write down what I remember before I forget. And, yes, I totally have baby brain. My vocabulary has significantly decreased and I talk like English isn't my first language. How sad that it's not only my first but my only.
I wondered if I should even write this all down because, from what I understand, women are programmed to forget all the trauma. Evidently, when my baby becomes a toddler, some part of my brain is going activate fire alarm blasts and scream at me, "You want another baby! You NEED another baby!" But I've gone this far so why not write the rest?

Sometime after 7:00am, I was prepped and ready to go to the O.R. The Man would join me shortly after he changed into scrubs. I was scared but thank goodness the epidural was strong. I really didn't feel much down there. I said goodbye to my mom and Patti. The plan was that the hubby would stay with me until Sticky Bun was out. Once SB left the O.R., as long as she was healthy, The Man would stay with her while my doula would then come into the O.R. and stay with me until I was done.

A mention about my mom. I didn't know if she would be around when I gave birth. My dad and she planned to attend a wedding in New York a week before I was due. I also knew that she wasn't big on the Natural Birth route so those two factors had made me want to seek out a doula. Well, she surprised me by being really calm and respecting my decisions ... although I know she thought it was INSANE that I didn't want the epidural right away. But I wasn't sure how she would handle me (or at least, parts of me) being inside out so I stuck with the original plan of having the doula there after The Man left.

I don't remember what I was thinking while I was being rolled into the O.R. I know I was scared. I'm the type of gal that looks away when my blood is being drawn. I don't faint but I sure as heck don't want to see the process.

There were a lot of people in the O.R. They were all friendly and calm because this wasn't an emergency C-Section. It was just unplanned ... for me. I asked if there would be a cover so I wouldn't see the surgery. Please tell me that the separator wasn't just on TV shows!!! Dr. Stephens assured me that there was a big sheet that went up, separating me from the operation. I was glad. I didn't want The Man to see the operation either. I know some of you will not agree but I can't help it. There is a certain modesty I have and while I have exchanged vows with him and he is my very bestest friend in the whole wide world, I did NOT want him to see my innards. What if he could never get that image out of his head? So much for intimacy. Perhaps it is completely irrational of me but how could he ever think I was sexy after that? It just felt like that would be too much. If I didn't want to see myself all cut up, I sure as heck didn't want someone I love (my husband, my mom, my dad ... anyone) to see me like that.

The sheet separator was no joke. They erected (and yes, erected is the perfect word) this huge sheet wall near my head. I couldn't see anything or anyone on the other side of it. A new anaesthesiologist introduced himself to me and said he was going to numb me so I wouldn't feel a thing. He wasn't, however, going to make me drowsy because he didn't want the baby drowsy. I was glad he said that because I did want my baby to be alert. I had learned that this would help the baby latch more easily than if she was drowsy from drugs.

After a few moments, Dr. Stephens said that they were ready. I was a bit out of it but I panicked. My husband was still not in the room. It was hard to talk by then but I spoke up and asked them to please wait for my husband. Where was my husband? One of the staff said that he was coming soon. In the meantime, Dr. Stephens said they were going to do a test to make sure I couldn't feel anything.

"Do you feel this?"

"No."

"Do you feel this?"

"No."

"Do you feel this?"

"Yes. Yes! I feel that!"

I will never forget how terrified I was that I could feel that pinch. Because I swear Dr. Stephens was ready to cut me open.

The anaesthesiologist even sounded surprised when he asked, "You really felt that?"

"Yes! It's on my right side. I felt that pinch! I felt it. I felt it!"

The anaesthesiologist said, "Let's wait a few moments." My doula later told me that the anaesthesiologist gave me more drugs and numbed further up my body because I had felt that pinch on my right side. I didn't mind, though, because I was petrified at the thought of being able to feel my C-section procedure. The one adverse reaction that made things difficult for me was I couldn't breathe. When I was prepped, I was given oxygen through the nose. Once they had numbed more parts of my body, I found it truly difficult to breathe. I was gasping, trying to suck in as much air as possible but couldn't. The staff didn't seem concerned so I guess I was getting enough oxygen but it certainly didn't feel like it.

I asked one of the nurses if I could change to an oxygen mask. They changed it for me but it was still incredibly difficult to breathe. It felt like they were going to start and still no husband. I was so relieved when I heard him enter the room. The Man asked me how I was doing and, for the life of me, I can't remember my answer. I do recall that once Dr. Stephens started and I could feel a tugging sensation, I felt sick and wanted to be distracted. I told him to talk about something. Anything. Just to talk so I could focus on something else. No, I don't remember what he was saying. I remember trying to ignore the tugging. I don't know if it was her pulling back my skin or if it was my insides being pulled out but there was a constant tugging feel and I hated it. I know The Man and I were trying to carry on a insignificant conversation.

Then we all heard a small baby cry. Almost like a kitten. I don't know who said it but I heard, "Congratulations! That's your baby girl. And look at all that hair!"

At 7:32am, that was when The Man had The Moment. The very moment that the almost ten months led us up to, that the entire night led us up to, the very moment he realized that the cry we had heard was our daughter. And I'm so happy for him that he had this moment. And I'm fine that I didn't. I was too doped up and trying too hard to breathe to have The Moment. I remember saying something to The Man like,

"Did you hear her? That's our daughter crying."

Then one of the nurses told him to cut the umbilical cord. He got up and was able to see her first. When he returned, I asked him how she looked and I'm pretty sure he said beautiful. He later told me that he almost cried, he was so happy. And for the rest of my life I will be glad that he had that moment.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Ahh, the official kick off holiday to Christmas season! Love it!
I've been meaning to finish the Birth Story but it takes time. And I realize that the second entry in that little series sounded bitter. Well, it wasn't horrible but it definitely wasn't the most fun I've had. So I want to be in a really positive state when I write the ending. I also had some post partum blues that I want to write about because it's something not a lot of mommies talk/write about.
I want to also write about Sticky Bun. She is getting quite a personality and she makes me laugh, even in the middle of the night when I'm tired. She has so many quirky noises and looks. She recently started giving me this "What you talkin' about, Willis?" look and I have no idea where it came from! She also has these facial expressions when she's pooping. I don't really need those faces to tell, though, because I can HEAR her poop. It's like her butt is percolating but instead of coffee, it's poop. And I'm waiting, well, we're ALL waiting, to see a real smile. Because I think it will be beautiful.
Anyway, those are the things that are in my head but want to write down. But that will all have to wait. Because I need to seize the day (or this moment) and take the opportunity to take a shower.
Happy Thanksgiving, my dear small group of blog friends! It's hard to believe that we've been reading each other for YEARS. And it's one of the things I'm thankful for ... I love you guys!

Birth Story Part II

My parents were the first to arrive at the hospital. To give The Man credit, he was the one who called my parents, then our doula and then ran all over the house to pack everything that I hadn't included in my bag- The Office DVDs, The IT Crowd DVDs, DVD player, pita chips and I don't know what else but enough to fill two backpacks in addition to the one that I pre-packed.

I was lying in bed in my own hospital suite (thank goodness for the small miracle that my Kaiser has single rooms) when my parents walked in. My mom said in a sympathetic voice, "Hiiii Baby ..." and I broke down crying. My poor dad didn't know what to do with himself as my mom came over, enveloped me in a hug and said, "I know, this isn't how you planned it to be, is it?" And I just cried. My dad patted my leg. I don't think I was crying because I was disappointed in how things were turning out. I was scared out of my mind. I thought I had a week! It was my first day of maternity leave, for crap's sake! I thought when it was my time to labor, I would be in the house or somewhere nearby when I would feel contractions. Instead, I was a measly one centimeter dilated and given less than 24 hours to go into active labor or they were going to do it for me. Damn.

Oh, the doctor who admitted me, Dr. Fogarty, had finally asked me if I had eaten. I guess I could have told a nurse or doctor earlier but I hadn’t. So I told him no and he promised he would get me a real meal (not some stupid popsicle, chicken broth or something else on the water diet.) While it wasn't delicious, I finally got to eat around 6:00pm. It was some sort of bland cafeteria-looking food so thank goodness The Man intended to bring me pita chips.

He arrived shortly after my parents armed with all the backpacks. I had gotten out all my tears with my mom so I wasn't a sobbing mess when he entered the room. He didn't know what to do after kissing me and giving me a hug so he unpacked the three bags. My doula arrived soon after. Small world, Patti actually knew Dr. Fogarty and he told her that because I had preeclampsia, they needed to be very careful with my labor and delivery. He wanted to monitor my blood pressure and make sure the baby was out in a reasonable amount of time.

Dr. Fogarty came into my room soon after my doula arrived to discuss his plan. He wanted start off trying to induce my labor by breaking my bag of waters first with the hope that it would start contractions. If that was not enough to get the labor started, he then wanted to start pitocin. He said I was already dilated to two centimeters at this point and my cervix was soft which was promising. I told him that I needed some time to talk to The Man and my doula.

After he left the room, I asked my doula, Patti, what she thought about everything he said. She told me that having preeclampsia was not something to really mess around with and the baby did need to be delivered sooner than later but there were some things we could do to help get it going naturally. She said that breaking the bag of waters was a less invasive way to start and then we could get up and walk around and so some acupressure work to help move things along. Guess there was no way around it. I was going to have the contraption that looked like an effin' crochet hook.

Dr. Fogarty came back and said he wanted the nurse to get an IV started before he broke my water. A few words about the IV. Mary, my nurse, came in about 7:30 p.m. to start the IV. I really liked Mary - she was pleasant and encouraged me to ask lots of questions, especially to the doctors. But she couldn't start an IV for the life of her. At least, on me. From the get go, the needle hurt like a mother effer. She said that this was normal (it’s not) and that if I iced it, it would get better. Like hell it did. But I'll get back to that.

Dr. Fogarty returned at 7:56 p.m. to break my water. From what I understand, you're not supposed to feel pain. I know I was freaked out because, well, the apparatus really does look like a super long crochet hook. Imagine that going up your hooha. And I remember feeling pain. It certainly was incredibly uncomfortable. And afterwards, it was non-stop flowing warm fluid coming from me. That was a very weird sensation because it seriously was non-stop. It flowed for a while and then subsided. But I would shift in bed and would feel a lot more warm fluid come out. I coughed, more warm fluid. Heaven help me whenever I needed to get up and use the bathroom. I thought I was going to make a mess through the humongous pads they gave me. And they actually had me wearing TWO at a time. (Now that I think about, why didn't they just give me an adult diaper?) And every time I got up, I hated looking at the pad on the bed. It was always filled w/ clear fluid and blood. I know I shouldn't have been embarrassed but I was.

Back to the IV. It still hurt like a bitch. I thought that this was normal because I'm a weenie. But Patti said, no, you shouldn't be feeling it. She encouraged me to tell Nurse Mary so I did. After going through three ice packs, I finally requested for it to be moved due to the pain. It was about 8:10 p.m by this time. My doula gave me a foot massage and worked on some acupressure points that were supposed to help with going into active labor while we waited for the other nurse to come in to change the IV. It was a nice distraction. The Man asked me if I wanted to watch episodes of The Office and I definitely wanted as many distractions as possible so I said yes. Patti didn't tell me then but she told me later that she noticed on the monitor that I was having contractions, but they were very mild because I didn't really feel them.

At 9:05 p.m., a new doctor named Dr. Stephens introduced herself and let me know she would be taking over for Dr. Fogarty. She then explained that she wanted to start pitocin if my contractions didn’t get into a regular pattern within 2 hours of having her water broken. This meant she would actually want to start pitocin in just an hour, at 10:00pm, because my water was broken around 8:00pm.

From the books and the classes my husband and I took, I feel like we were taught to fear pitocin. Because once the pitocin came, stronger-than-ever-contractions would come and then I would need an epidural which through out any chance of laboring naturally. Now, let me be clear. I was indifferent to the epidural. I planned on trying to labor without it but if I needed it, I would take it. The pitocin, however, sounded like hell and why would I want to put myself through that?

So I asked Dr. Stephens if we could delay the pitocin and be given the opportunity to walk around the halls to help get things moving more naturally. In my doula's words, "Dr. Stephens seemed a little irritated at this." But she begrudgingly agreed to wait and see what would happen in the next few hours with my contractions. After the doctor left, I was a little ticked off by her attitude. Well, as ticked off as one can be while incredibly uncomfortable and leaking uncontrollably. Maybe the better term would be "turned off." In those classes we took, we were taught to ask questions and feel entitled to get answers. Heck, EMPOWERED because it's my body, after all.

Then I thought back to my birth plan and I could have sworn I requested a midwife over a doctor. I asked Patti if she could go into the hallway and flag down Nurse Mary. I felt comfortable enough with the nurse (because she had encouraged me to talk to the doctor and ask why whenever I felt it was necessary) to let her know I wasn't feeling this doctor. My doula stepped out into the hall and asked if Mary was available to answer some questions and to find out about getting the IV changed because nobody had come in yet to do it.

What was odd was that another nurse named Maria came into the room instead and said she could answer the questions I had for Mary. Well, I didn't know this Maria chick from a bucket of water and she was kind of pushy. Great. I asked if Mary was available and Maria said she could answer any questions I had. So in the nicest way possible, because I didn't want to be on the Dr. Stephens' bad side if I was stuck with her, I told Maria I would prefer a midwife. Maria asked if I had any medical complications with my pregnancy (um, couldn't she have read my chart?) When I told her I was just diagnosed with preeclampsia. Maria said that was considered a medical complication so I would have to be cared for by an OB. Damn.

I said OK because what else could I say but then asked again about getting my IV replaced. It was still really hurting. Maria said she would do it, but I told her Mary had asked someone else to do it. Maria seemed to insist she would take care of moving the IV and went to get everything she needed. When she came back she turned all the lights up and removed the first IV. What do you know, Maria was unable to get a second IV started and created a pretty big bruise on my right wrist where the first IV was because of the pressure created. I looked like I was a victim of domestic abuse. No ... seriously, the bruise was huge and spread up my arm from my wrist. I felt like telling her she should have practiced on an orange, not me, if she wanted to learn now to do IVs.

Finally, at 9:35 p.m. Maria said she could not get a new IV started and asked if I wanted and anesthesiologist to come in and start one for me. WTF do you think? Especially when my mom said that anesthesiologists were pros at putting in needles, it was just that IVs are kind of beneath them. So this guy named Mike came in about 10 p.m. and was a breath of fresh air. He joked around and was really easy to talk to. He also told me about the epidural and that he would be on tonight to give her one if I wanted. And let me just add that the IV Mike put in was painless. I did not feel a thing. Bless that guy's heart. And curses to Maria. (I liked Mary and while her IV made me incredibly uncomfortable, I wish her no ill will because she apologized over and over about it.)

At 10:20 p.m. Dr. Stephens came back into the room and said she wanted to start pitocin. Still terrified, I asked for some time to walk around because I had been stuck in bed this whole time while waiting for someone to come in and change my IV. Dr. Stephens said she would give me one hour to walk and see if the contractions would increase because she had to go into the OR for another C-section. So The Man, the doula and I were off to walk the halls while my mom hung back in my suite. You may be wondering what happened to my dad. I was only allowed to have three guests so he was in the waiting room. During that time, he also went out and brought my husband some food from a fast food restaurant. So The Man left us briefly to join my dad in the waiting room to eat.

By this time, I was walking pretty slow. The contractions weren't terribly strong but they slowed me down. So did my leaking and the two huge pads I had to wear. We walked several laps throughout the quiet halls of Labor & Delivery and Postpartum. The Man caught up to us after about three laps. My dad decided to go home and my mom decided to stay the night since she was allowed to stay in my room. The Man joined our little walkabout just as my contractions got a little stronger. But I was still really early in my labor. My doula was pooped from working all day and, knowing I still had a ways to go, asked if she could go to a nearby friend’s house to sleep for a little bit. We were to call her as soon as things progressed. She left at about 11 p.m.

Dr. Stephens returned soon after Patti left and I agreed to start the pitocin. Holy Mary, Mother of Pearl ... my contractions got a lot stronger. My mom hugged me or held my hand through the tough ones, especially when I started to cry. The Man felt bad for me and tried to comfort me too. At about 2:40am, I was in a lot of pain by then and told the hubby it was time for our doula to come back.

Patti arrived back at the hospital at 3:00 a.m. and I was sitting on the bed working through a contraction. When the contraction finished, Dr. Stephens checked my cervix and I was dilated to three centimeters. Only THREE EFFIN' CENTIMETERS. My mind was at the point of "bring me the GD epidural." My husband was surprised by this because he thought I was handling the contractions pretty well. To hell with handling, I thought. I wanted the epidural. I was tired and 12 hours had gone by since my supposed routine doctor's appointment. I wanted the bloody epidural.

By 3:30 a.m. the anesthesiologist came in. I was only allowed one guest while he administered the epidural. My mom and doula left and waited in the waiting room until everything was finished. It was a different anesthesiologist but he seemed competent. It was a weird procedure because I had to position myself just right for him to weave it into my back. I'm sure there's a better, clinical term for it but that's what it felt like, he was weaving a needle in and out of my spine. They had numbed the area so it didn’t hurt too much. The liquid felt cool but I was relieved that I wouldn't be feeling much pain for much longer.

My mom and doula were brought back to the room at 4:00 a.m. and, by this time, I was shivering and my legs were tingling. I guess these are normal side effects. The nurse kept having me switch sides for the next 20 minutes or so to make sure the epidural had a nice even effect. And the epidural started to kick in around 5:00 a.m. Hallelujah. I was pretty exhausted by this time and the epidural alleviated the pain. So much so that I was able to take a small nap.

At 6:00 a.m., Dr. Stephens wanted to put in an internal monitor for the contractions and a scalp monitor for the baby. The baby’s heart rate had not been as reactive as the doctor would have liked which is why she suggested these procedures. I was so tired that I took it hard that she was concerned about the baby's heart rate and stick even more contraptions inside of me. I cried a little after the monitors were put in. The doctor checked my cervix again and I had progressed to five centimeters and a -2 station. Not bad, I thought.

But at 6:48 a.m., Dr. Stephens came back in and said she was not really happy with the way the baby’s heart rate was staying flat and she suggested the baby be delivered by cesarean section. Son of a bitch. The very thing we didn’t want. I asked for a few minutes so I could talk to The Man. I was scared but had a feeling that everything that had gone on (and wrong) in the past few hours was leading up to this inevitable conclusion. And if this was the only way to make sure the baby was safe, I just had to suck it up and do it. I gave Dr. Stephens the go ahead and was prepped for surgery ...