Homework, HTML & Hardware

I am going NUTS trying to work on this blog re-do, re-design, re-everything. There's a problem with mapping my new blog domain to my new blog platform and when I inquired of technical support their response was that "it's a bug in our system." YOU THINK? You can't map a domain to other nameservers and YOU THINK there's a bug in your system? Holy hell, people. 

And then there's the whole theme editing and html stuff and what do you mean I have to use HTML to change the font? Or upgrade. And how come the new font only shows up on half the blog post? And a Gravatar? And Favicon? And, so, yeah, that. Going nuts.

And I was on a business trip to my company HQ in San Francisco last week (where I got to spend 2 days in a conference room with no less than 5 stinky sales men at any given time. Lucky, lucky me). 

And my oldest son AND my husband started school on Monday. My youngest doesn't start until Tuesday next week so I have to work from home while the hubby is gone to school some mornings. You know, so my youngest doesn't burn the house down playing with matches or decide to scale the roof or something.

And my work laptop decided to crap out last week while in San Francisco. Perfect place for it to happen though; my IT guy there worked on it all day. It should be good as new. Should be. Except now I can't get on my home wi-fi network. Which makes working from home rather difficult.

This too shall pass. This too shall pass.

I will get this damn blog stuff figured out. Even if it means transferring registrars and begging and pleading for help with the html. The work laptop stuff will get figured out too. That's why we have IT guys. And little one will be in school next week and we'll get back into the school routine. 

It always works out. Everything always works out. It's just an absolute bitch to get there. 

In the meantime, here's my guy on his first day:

First day of 4th grade

He loved it. He called me at work when he got home to tell me it was great and his first homework assignment was to eat Oreos and then write about it. His teacher obviously knows how to win over her students. 

Okay, as I was writing this missive I took a break to go outside and get the mail. Little Bubba decided to come with me and ride his bike. He has a very little bike because for quite some time he's been too scared to ride without training wheels. Just last week we took the training wheels off and he hopped on and rode like a champ. Like he's been doing it all his life. But the bike is so small that his knees come up to the handle bars.

So I said, "hey, little dude, try out your brother's bike and see how you like it."

At first he didn't want to try, but he's a good kid and he likes new things so he agreed to try. Here's the result:

I have to go buy a new big boy bike now. SMH. 


Ta!

Kids are really obnoxious

Okay, y'all know that I love my kids. They are a part of me - why I live and breathe every day. 

But, seriously, they are so LOUD. Loud, obnoxious and unrestrained. 

Things were so quiet when they were in California. I often talked out loud to myself when I was home alone. Just because it was so dang quiet. Not anymore! We're lucky to get a word in with each other.

Last night we were in the car and my mom was sitting in the backseat between the boys and she was plugging her years because she was getting it from both sides. Bickering and playing with each other - in just about equal parts. 

On one hand, I'm happy my kids don't feel inhibited or restrained. I want them to be able to speak freely to me, my husband and our immediate family - especially my parents. I want them to be kids and act like kids and let the creativity flow and if that means having competitions about which of them can sound more like a girl when they scream then so be it. (However, not in the freaking-ass car).

On the other hand, when they are being loud it makes it really hard to hear their parents or grandparents, it makes it impossible for us to talk to each other, and there comes a point where we cross from creative outlet to just plain ole bad manners. It's a balance. Right now I feel like we are teetering a little over on the bad manners side - maybe because they are just home from a 3 week vacation and need to figure out their boundaries at home again? I'm guessing that's it. 

In any case, I LOVE my children but they just might be the death of me this weekend until they get back in the groove. The grandparents are staying through Sunday morning and then we can get back to our normal lives.

Speaking of normal lives, we seem to have gotten into a bad sleeping pattern/night time habit with the kids. It doesn't get dark here until 10 pm. Often we don't make the kids to go to bed until 10 pm. It's summer, it's fine. But they stay up in their room screwing around, talking, playing, getting in each others beds for at least another 2 hours. It drives us crazy. At 10 pm, and definitely by 11 pm, we are ready for some adult quiet time. No obnoxious kids. 

Last night was particularly frustrating. I started getting them ready for bed at 9:30. At midnight I made one of them go sleep on our bed and, later after he had fallen asleep, my husband moved him back to his bed. But before that we had to interrupt the movie we were watching about 6 times to tell them to settle down. It was just flat-out outrageous behavior. 

So, as a result of all this, I'm considering dismantling my office, my girl sanctum, and making separate rooms for the kids. It's no longer so important to have a guest room (since my parents bought a travel trailer and will use that when they visit). The trade-off would be that I would take a room that has been traditionally a playroom/pets room and I would clean it up and re-organize my office space there. 

Con: it doesn't have a door. It's just one end of a long room. The other side of the room has the stairs up to my husband's loft office and the door to the dog run. Oh, and I wouldn't have a window facing the front of my house anymore when I'm sitting at my work station. I would have to keep a tortoise's habitat in my office.

Pro: none for me personally. The benefit of peace and quiet that would come from the boys having separate rooms is a win for the whole family though.  Oh, yeah, and I would have a tortoise in my office.

The boys are 9 & 7 years old. What do you think about giving them their own rooms? Will it be a good thing or can this be seen as giving in to their tyranny? I think the alone time would be a benefit to them. They each kind of re-group when they are alone. But would it hamper their closeness? I want them to grow up close to one another. 

Help. Please. Thank you.

Thankful Thursday: Too Much Good Stuff

I am indeed very thankful today. For many reasons:

• Last night my boys came home after being with their grandparents in California for 12 days. I'm so thankful they came home safely to me. It felt weird having half my heart beating from another state. The two halves belong together just like my babies belong with me.

• I'm thankful for having a mom & stepdad who would take my children for 12 days just so they can be with them and take them to do fun things. They went to the mountains, they kayaked, they swam a lot (and are still learning and getting better), they went to the Jelly Belly Factory, they helped my parents buy a travel trailer - okay, so not always fun for the kids. But my kids will get the benefit of that travel trailer (we're already planning a trip for the 6 of us to Yellowstone next year) and how awesome are those grandparents? 

 

•  I'm thankful for the time I had with my husband over the past weekend. We NEEDED to reconnect romantically without kids, parents and stressors and we did just that. And I was spoiled. He was spoiled. It was GOOD. After 12 years together (11 married) we don't expect heart-shaped explosions all the time, but respect, understanding, caring, and a teacup or two of passion will put us in good stead for a while.

Date night. Downtown Boise. We saw BUCK and it was SO GOOD.

• I'm thankful for the time I had alone. My husband had shows or rehearsals every evening so I had my house to myself. WOW. I didn't know what to do with myself. I was paralyzed in indecision from the options. Do I want to write a blog? Make dinner for MYSELF only? Clean house? Watch a chick flick? Pay bills? Work out? Paint the hallway? WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY SHOULD I DO? In the end, to be honest, I didn't do much. I did the dishes some days. I watched some girl TV (we don't need details. moving on.) I worked out. I watered plants. I did (some) laundry. I did NOT bake a darn thing. One night all I ate for dinner was Zucchini. It was awesome.

• I'm thankful for friends who are like family. 'Nuff said. 

• Last, but not least, I'm thankful for my renewed work-out ethic. I came back from vacation with the intention of beginning my work-out regimen. That Sunday I got out mid-day and started day 1, week 1, of the Couch-to-5K program using the C25K iPhone app. I didn't finish it. I ended up walking half the "runs". Because, hello, I'm not in the best of shape. But I'm going to persevere. I'm going to get it done. I've been hitting my elliptical at night. I'm very proud of myself. Very proud of the effort I have been making and I hope to keep it up. In the last 12 days I've done 3.1 miles on the elliptical a couple times, and then about 1 to 1 1/2 miles a few other times. I'm using a Pedometer app on my iPhone to track the elliptical work-outs. This is good for me. Baby steps. I will get there. But first I need new shoes. :) 

 What are you thankful for today? 

Baseball Mom

It's starting. I've resisted for a long time - he's too young, he's not ready, let's just do martial arts instead - but now it's time. To push it off any further would be doing him a disservice.

My oldest has joined an organized sports team. Baseball, to be specific. 

3 weeks ago when I reminded my son that he was signed up for baseball and it would be starting soon he had a gigantic fit. He didn't want to do it, how could I make him and why didn't I warn him before I signed him up? Well, he knew I was signing him up, he chose baseball over soccer, and I even double-checked with him. So what was the problem? Nerves. He was scared to meet new people and do something he wasn't used to doing.

2 weeks ago when my mom & stepdad were here they bought him a bat, a couple baseballs, and a mitt. We went out to a baseball diamond at a school nearby and practiced a bit. After that I didn't hear a word of complaint.

Last night we went to the first practice. I signed all the forms, got his uniform and signed up to bring the snacks for one of the games. In true sports mom form.

I was so proud of him last night. No nerves last night. He jumped right in. And when the coach was asking for a volunteer to demonstrate where center field was he raised his arm the highest.  

In the next 5 weeks we have 4 practices and 10 games. Here we go.

He's an Angel. And a handsome devil.

His brother giving him words of encouragement just before his first time up to bat.

Because I love themed collages.

Bitchfest & IG LW review

I'm annoyed. For several reasons:

1. I'm at work and it's Monday. 
2. I'm getting a cystic/nodule type acne bump on the side of my chin. I could ignore it but it freaking hurts. Like I-can't-forget-it's-there kind of hurt. So that sucks.
3. What started out as a nice Mother's Day yesterday went south in the middle of the day when my kids completely forgot that they ever had manners to begin with and proceeded to act like whiny, annoying, born-in-a-barn, selfish 2 year olds. They are 9 & 7. I was taking THEM shopping for stuff for THEM. On Mother's Day. Ungrateful little wretches. People used to compliment me about their manners. What the hell happened??
4. My oldest decided to continue this trend through this morning when he laid on the floor for 30 minutes because we were making him wear jeans to school that make his butt look big. For reals? I mean, really? He's 9. He's small. 51 inches tall and maybe 52 pounds. Nevertheless, kicking, screaming, pounding the floor tantrum this morning. He is grounded from the TV & the computer now.
5. We decided to try an ADHD med for my little one this weekend. He has never taken ANY meds, and there's some concern with treating the ADHD because the medicine can cause Autism characteristics to become "worse" or just more defined. Well, we tried one on Saturday and, OMFG, the child turned into a holy terror. We were in survival mode with him until it wore off. I held him until he calmed down and then quietly handed over the the Wii remote and slowly backed away. So, yeah, we won't be trying that again. I would rather deal with his concentration issues than that mad, angry and aggressive little spawn of satan.
6. My insurance guy keeps calling (when I'm not home so I just get these annoying messages) to sign up for a service or I'm about to lose a discount for the next 6 months. This is my thing: I obviously was signed up for it the last 6 months - why the hell are you bugging me about it again? When I sign up once I expect it to stay in effect. Do you really think I have time to deal with ONE MORE THING? And I have to carve out the time to do this during the day while I'm at work. 

Which brings me back to WORK. I try not to talk about work too much here - but I just have to say something. I've been doing this job for over 5 years. Which is a long time, in this field, to stay with one company and in the same position. I'm getting a little freakin' burned out. I'm tired of the same problems and the same non-solutions. Home annoyances on top of the typical work stuff makes days like today really hard.

I would love to be Susie Sunshine and see the bright side of every thing, every day - but that's just not me. Sometimes I can do that. Other times I want to wallow in my annoyance with the world or just go back to bed already. 

I know I'll get over it soon. Except for this stupid cystic pimple. That's going to take several days and a lot of oil massaging.

So enough bitching. Here's a look at how last week (LW) went, in Instagram (IG):

Sunday: We shot off the rocket my 9 year old got for his birthday. It was SO COOL.

Monday: I took my little guy to his developmental pediatrician. This was in the waiting room. 

Tuesday: I got new specs.

Wednesday: We went to see Wicked. This is the stage before it started. It.Was.Awesome.

Thursday: There was a duck in the road. I persuaded her to move for her safety.

Friday: Read Night at my oldest's school. Every year we put on a puppet show for the event. We = my husband as the puppeteer with help from a nephew and friend. It's a real crowd-pleaser. 

Saturday: The hubby got all handy and installed our new water heater.

Saturday: During the medication snafu: angry eyes and a thunderous brow.

Saturday evening: Hot water. Bubbly toes. Fantastic.

Sunday: Mother's Day breakfast in bed. Crepe with Nutella & whipped cream. There was bacon too but somehow it disappeared before the picture was taken.

Sunday: some of my Mother's Day loot. Chocolate (of course), funky socks, and homemade books. Plus a card with a tropical island and tropical music in it (no drink with an umbrella in it though). I also got a color bowl (flower pot) for the front porch AND, drumroll please, I did not have to wash a dish all freakin' day. Hallelujah!

9

At 1:47 AM this morning, 9 years ago, this happened:

(Read the story of how that birth happened here). 

And, just like that, we were a family: 

Then we took him home and started the arduous task of raising him. It was tough, at first, with amazing highs and lows. The boy was dubbed "failure to thrive" after losing some weight and then he started refusing to nurse. We found out that I wasn't producing enough milk for him. I started pumping and pumping and pumping. And then I pumped some more. I was a dismal failure at it. The max I ever pumped in ONE DAY was 2.5 ounces. So, as if that challenge wasn't enough, the kid wouldn't sleep at night. I spent all day pumping and trying to feed him in-between his naps and then when the hubby got home from work I would try to sleep for a few hours and then, like clockwork, the boy was wide awake from midnight until 8 am. It took a month for us to start paring that down and, hour by hour, I was able to get him to go to sleep earlier. But, man, for awhile I felt like the walking dead.

Once we got over these speed bumps we were able to really just enjoy him. He was so sweet and we enjoyed him so much. He loved being swaddled very tightly. We called him our burrito baby. He was happy and snuggly and he looked like a little man. 

Here's a pictorial from his younger years:

8 weeks old. He can thank me for this later.

My little man

Look what's growing!

First trip to Disneyland

Kickin' it baby-style

And then, before we knew it (or had even considered it) he was a big brother:

He seemed to grow up so fast after that point. He just became a big boy in the flash of an instant:

Halloween when he was 4

5th birthday

Going to school!

And now, so handsome, so smart and clever. He's become so independent. He gets up in the morning and starts getting ready for school. He runs to the bus stop by himself. He gets his own band-aids. He does his chores and yells at his brother and brushes his teeth and combs his hair and reads. He started reading the first Harry Potter book this year. Oh my.

Look what I made. I am one proud mama today. (And most days, to be honest).

Last week in Instragram & this week in sheer panic

Okay, before we get to an Instagram review of the week and a recap of our wild ride on Easter, let me just tell you about this coming week. 

My momma is coming on Thursday evening. Momma & stepdad, actually. So I have guests coming in 3 1/2 days.

Something you may or may not know about me - I'm a 90%er. I like to do jobs/projects until they are mostly done and then I lose steam and it takes me FOREVER to finish them. This is a problem for me this week because over the last two weekends we have been working on our bedroom re-do. The room itself is done. (Well, mostly. I need to pick up a bench, some storage options like a bookcase, and a couple of small, tall side tables - but it's mostly done. The furniture will wait a bit.) 

The problem is we put all that junk that was cluttering up our bedroom into my office. My office that also doubles as our guest room. Do you see where I am going with this?

I have 3 1/2 days to now make the guest room presentable. But I don't wanna. Because I'm a 90%er and I'm done with my bedroom project. Whine.

So - that's my week. Clean, clean, organize, organize. Then my parents are coming and it will be my son's birthday on Friday. I'm feeling the PRESSURE. I'm feeling a little panicky about it. Maybe that adrenaline will help me get it done. Fingers-crossed.

Okay, now that I've got THAT out of the way we've got some loverly pictures:

The beginning of the week was rough at work. Drastic measures were necessary:

Sangria

Then we did homework. This is my Autistic guy. When I see him doing so-called "normal" things really well I can't tell you how much my heart expands. The hubby's too. See his face? Proud dad.

Speaking of the Autism thing - my little guy has been afraid of dogs for about 3 1/2 years. That's about 1 1/2 years after we got our Labradoodle, Murphy. Murphy was a very active pup. And big. With gigantic paws. Bubba got scared and from then on Murphy had a weird half-life - all day outside and all night inside in his crate. Lately as my little bubba has gotten older we've been seeing improvements. He's not as scared as he was. It probably helps that he's taller than Murphy now. 

We started "Project: Integrate Murphy" last week. Starting with a bath and a haircut:

It's going pretty well. Murphy does have a tendency to eat paper though. He gnawed on the hubby's hard-bound Hitchhiker's Guide though and that was a big, fat no-no. He needs to work on his manners a bit before he's given carte blanche access to the whole house.

Friday the boys went to Hobby Lobby with me. I have started a love affair with that place. Largely because of the bedroom re-do. And partially because all the wall decor was 50% off. Yikes. 

Anyway, to reward them, and me, for their good behavior at the store I took them to U-Swirl for yogurt where I snapped one of the cutest pictures ever of these two boys together:

Brothers

I just died. 

Look how sweet they are? So, so misleading.

Saturday I busted ass to try to get my bedroom done. It's done-ish. Here's a preview of a later, date TBD, blog post about the room re-do:

Hobby Lobby purchase. Yep. Infatuation all the way.

We also dyed eggs on Saturday. I'm not artsy-fartsy with them. More of a traditionalist, I think. They are what they are:

Which brings us to Easter. We went to the in-law's house. They have 4 acres on which sits the old farmhouse, a guest house (currently inhabited by a visiting aunt & uncle), a big barn-like structure (for holding the RV, junk and cars. and more junk), old outhouses, an old pump house, old chicken coops, a playhouse, a wood pile, about 8 old undriveable cars, an olive grove, picnic tables, and, finally, a beaten earth track that will eventually have actual train tracks on it for my father in law's ride-on train. 

It's a fun place for 13 grandkids (11 of them boys) to play.

But before the playing we had the egg hunting:

And egg-inspecting at the playhouse:

And Papa took some of the littlest kids for a ride on the track in the golf cart:

Those are the 2 girlies. Twinsies too.

Then we had some boy cousin playing on the wood pile:

Old fallen trees are really the best places to play.

The hubby and I borrowed the keys to the golf cart and drove out to the back olive grove. We may have smooched a little. I can neither confirm nor deny, but this guy certainly thinks he's pretty clever:

Note: I cannot tell you how fun this was. I just can't. I don't have the words. It was like a ride at Disneyland except without all the safety restraints and perfectly imagined scenery. The hubby drove with swagger. Then he let let me drive and I was a tad more cautious. I want to do it again. 

On our way back we saw this band of pirates getting ready to attack:

That's my baby in the middle. With his stick sword.

And then we were caught:

My baby lost interest at some point during the charge and went the other way.

And during all this crazy driving and pirate attacks what were the little girls doing? 

Contemplating the crazy boys, of course. Just like women have been doing for centuries:

"Hmm, why would they get on the roof just to fall on their heads? Doesn't seem logical."

Happy Easter, Peeps.

A first birth story

Next Friday, April 29, will be 9 years since I gave birth for the first time. Most people would say that’s the moment I became a mom, but I felt like a mom from the instant I knew he was in my body. Even when the early tests came back negative I *knew* he was there. And I was right – he was. And he was precious and he changed my life. 

When I think back to my pregnancy, birth and the first few months of his life I’m filled with a mix of pride & happiness and shame, guilt & regret. 

Shame, guilt & regret? Yep. I could have done it better. I'm ashamed of myself for not knowing more or being more pro-active about knowing more. I hope I didn't screw him up too much. I would do things differently now than I did then. I should be clear - I didn’t actually do anything to hurt him (at least I hope not). But we struggled. Before, during, and after his birth there were difficulties. I didn’t know how to do it better. 

Before his birth I had borderline preeclampsia. I retained so much water those last few weeks I could probably float. I gained 40 lbs and the last 15 were all water weight in the last 2 weeks. I was on bed rest for 3 weeks.

During his birth I was unaware of the process; I was scared and exhausted. I didn’t know or understand what to ask for, or even that I could ask for more than what was being provided to me.

After his birth I was sleep deprived and emotionally drained and scared and inhibited and I didn’t know how to make it better.

I just need to remember this: When I knew better I did better.

When I knew better I did better. When I knew better I did better.

When he was born I was 26. I knew what a typical 26 year old knows about birth & babies. I took the birthing classes. I read books like What to Expect When You're Expecting. I joined an online message board for moms that were due in April 2002. Some of the moms were first-timers, like me, and some were more experienced. I put together a birth plan based on what I had read. I wanted to incorporate different birthing methods and positions in my labor that would ease my pain and help with the delivery. I was open to having an Epidural if the pain got intolerable because I had heard how horrible the pain was and I was scared. I felt as prepared as I could be for something that was still largely an unknown thing.

On Sunday, April 28, my due date, I woke at 7:30 am when I felt a trickle of liquid. I flipped myself 180 degrees out of bed to a standing position (in an insane desire to prevent the bed from getting wet) and my water gushed out all over the floor. (Sorry if that's TMI for you. If it is, then maybe you shouldn't read this post. Consider yourself warned). I woke my husband, called my OB's office and posted to my message board that it was my turn.

It was a couple hours before we headed to the hospital. I wasn't feeling the contractions yet so everything was calm. We got all checked in to L&D at the hospital and began walking the track to try to get things moving. We walked and we walked and we walked some more. 

After about 3 hours of this, and for reasons I can’t remember, they wanted to hook me up to a monitor. I should note that it’s around this time when my memory gets a little fuzzy. I don’t know why, but from about 1 pm to 9 pm I only have vague images or snippets in my mind of things that happened. I’m really, really hazy on a complete narrative of the day. Was it the pain? I don’t know. The Pitocin? The eventual Epidural? I just don’t know.

These are things I know happened:

• I couldn’t walk around anymore because I had to be in bed due to the monitor.
• I got an IV and, at some point, Pitocin, because I wasn’t progressing.
• As some point the baby’s oxygen levels dropped so they put an oxygen mask on me.
• I had the most horrible heartburn all day and, thankfully, they were able to give me Tums for some temporary relief.
• I threw up several times. Probably throwing up the Tums since I hadn't had anything else. 
• The on-call OB came to check on me and, when she noticed I was in pain she asked why I hadn’t asked for an Epidural? Well, because I didn’t know it was time to ask for an epidural. The contractions and level of pain had increased so gradually that it wasn’t obvious to me that I should be asking for an Epidural. I don’t know how else to explain that.
• I had the shakes really bad before I got the Epidural. I think those calmed down after. At least I don’t remember them after. 

The next part of the process that I remember clearly was when I was starting to feel the pain from the contractions again. They were going to give me another dose of the Epidural but they realized then that I was at 10 and started preparing for me to deliver instead. Since they wanted me to feel the contractions (so I would know when to push) I didn't get more Epidural. 

I pushed for the next 3 hours. From 9 pm to 12 am. Pushed for about 30 seconds and then rested for 30 seconds. Rinse and repeat. For 3 hours. I threw up a few more times. The baby was crowning but that was it. That kid was not budging. 

I have to say, my L&D nurses were fantastic. There were 3 of them there with me. One down between my legs who seemed to be running the show (you know, other than ME). She was particularly nurturing and encouraging and I wish I could remember her name. There was another one up by my head who kept helping me sit up, rubbing my back, encouraging me, wiping my brow, etc. There was another nurse floating around supporting those two. 

My husband was on the other side of me and he was incredibly encouraging and supportive. I don't think I cursed at him even once.

3 hours. Pushing non-stop. No progress. I became incredibly worn out. 

They decided to let me rest and asked the OB to come check on me. She had been delivering another baby so I hadn’t seen her much. When she came and examined me she gave me less than a 10% chance of delivering naturally and recommended a c-section.

I was exhausted. I just wanted him to be born already. Please, please, just make it be done and put him in my arms already. 

I consulted with my mom and my husband. They were worried about me. They were worried about the baby. It was so easy to just trust the doctor and say, “ok.” 

I don’t want to regret the decisions I made then but I can’t help but think that I should have questioned that decision more. I should have asked if they knew WHY he was stuck and wasn’t there anything else that could be done? Was he in jeopardy or should we wait it out a bit more? I didn’t know enough to ask the right questions. And did I mention I was exhausted? We were 16 hours in since my water had broken and I think about 11 hours in from when the contractions had become painful.

I got more Epidural. Around 1 am April 29, 2002 I was wheeled into surgery. At 1:47 am this happened:

I had a perfect, beautiful baby boy. He was gorgeous. I cried and told him he was beautiful for the brief second they held him next to my head. I was happily exhausted and relieved. He looked just like a miniature man.

Then they took him away from me so they could sew me up. My husband left me too and I felt tired and alone and a little disconnected to what was happening around me. 

My husband washed him and fed him a bottle – because they needed to feed him, apparently, and I was in recovery and I couldn't breastfeed him yet, they said. I don’t know. I was annoyed they gave him a bottle, for sure, but I didn't have it in me to throw a hissy fit after the fact.

I was wheeled back to my room and had uncontrollable shakes for a long time. They kept piling warm blankets on me. Finally they brought my little angel in and I was able to breastfeed him for the first time. He latched on great and drank like a champ.

They told me later he was facing the wrong way in the birth canal and that’s why he had gotten stuck. He was “sunnyside up.” Even now, years later, I wonder how they didn’t know that? Or check for that? Couldn’t they have turned him over? 

So that’s my first birth story. That early morning as I was recovering from the surgery and he was laying in my arms I felt the most vulnerable I have ever felt in my life. I wanted to put him back IN. At least when he was inside of me he was safe. Outside of me anything could happen to him. That’s when I truly understood what people mean when they say it’s like your heart is beating outside of your body. 

The first few months were really hard – breastfeeding/milk supply issues, sleeping issues, etc. But I’ll save that for part 2. 

Here he is, almost 9 years later:

Thanks for reading. :)