Brother and sister

Feelings...talking about feelings...

The daydate was a success. As T just said, "It started off rough." And I responded with, "Yeah, well, our life is rough."

So there.

I rushed home from the hospital to get E up from his nap while T picked up the house. We took E to my parent's house after which we proceeded to drive around town for almost 30 minutes before deciding where to eat.

This was mainly because it is so very hard for me to switch gears nowadays. I leave the hospital and it takes me at least an hour to wind down. I get to work and it takes me even longer to focus. It's just hard. So to switch gears from hospital visit to carefree daydate took even longer. Throw in a conversation that discussed whether or not I need to "see someone" about what's going on, why I'm dreading the holidays and my birthday and why we refuse to let our marriage flounder--well, the dinner conversation wasn't exactly rainbows and unicorns. Oh, and I cried. Will there be no end to me crying in restaurants? Really now.

It also turned a bit funny (if I'd felt like laughing). You know in the movies or tv shows where the couple is fighting or having a serious conversation and the waitress is so bizarrely cheerful and effervescent that the contrast is almost ridiculous? Yeah, that was us. Picture me playing the role of Weepy Willie and T playing the Concerned Husband with frequent visits from Happy! Waitress! It was odd.

Anyway, we got the nitty gritty out on the table and both now understand a little bit better what the other one is feeling, so we decided to go to Target--the place where romantic dates go to die. I haven't had what I call a Leisure Time Trip to Target since I was essentially put on house arrest due to one volatile pregnancy. T was a lovely co-shopper and we went up and down every single aisle. And dropped a hot dime on number of items. If there is anything better than a shopping trip to Target to make a girl feel a tidgy better, well then I don't know what it is.

We picked E up from my parents where apparently my mom had him doing assisted somersaults (this resulted in very.big.hair). One easy bedtime later, and I'm contemplating some pie.

Today was okay.

Rough road for thanks

Yesterday was a hard day. It didn't feel like Thanksgiving and I wasn't feeling particularly thankful. On a day to day basis, it's not so very hard for me to recognize what we've got going on in our favor. However on a day based solely on thankfulness, I ended up feeling particularly down and more than a little cranky.

I spent a few hours with Iris in the morning (T is sick), came home, was mucho cranky with T, felt bad, apologized, made cheesy potatoes, took a shower, dressed E and drove to my parents house.

The only thing that made me feel at all hopeful and thankful was thinking ahead to next year and knowing that Iris would've had her 1st birthday by this time. While I can't even envision what any of that is going to feel like or what our life will resemble, I hope it's nice.

In the meantime, Iris is quiet and getting lots of undisturbed, dark sleepytime. She continues to need blood every 3-4 days as well as platelets but that's sort of de rigueur. The darkness on her belly is fading to a nice pinky, brown and the perforation inside has almost completely closed. The neonatologist mentioned that there is a 50% chance she may not need surgery to remove the damaged stretch of intestine/bowl if it was mainly the hole (now closing) that caused all the issues, but that is left up to the surgical team. Also, all of these problems could return and start from scratch when they resume feeding her in 7-10 days. Our largest prayer is that this doesn't happen.

This afternoon has been a quiet one. After getting back from the hospital, I started laundry, paid bills and tried to be patient with T. It would be a lie to say that the huge sense of Overwhelmed and Stressed I feel every minute is not taking its toll on T and I. I am trying not to pour everything I have into Iris, E, pumping and sleep--but I seem to be and this is then leaving very little for T. Or myself. It is no wonder that divorces run abundant in marriages that have struggled through the death of a child or a premature birth.

While I am determined to not have that happen to T or I--why would I risk losing my best friend?--it's so very hard on a day to day basis to smile first and to equally dole out the hugs. Because what I would very much like to be doing is bringing Iris home. Or sleeping.

As a minor fix-it patch, I told T that I needed time with him away from the hospital and away from E. Just he and I to talk of something else other than the daily trials we're stumbling through. A daydate is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. It'll cut down on my time at the hospital, but I think T is where I need to pour a bit of that time.

In lighter news, it is colder than holy moses here. Even scraped a bit of snow off the car this morning (our garage is so very circa 1924 and barely fits two cars without someone having to suck it in). Also, E and I are going swimming this afternoon. I had enough functioning gray matter to think of this while I was in the shower yesterday, so I took a swing at the bikini line. It was scary. Once he wakes up, we're off. Here's hoping his afternoon poo doesn't occur while we're enjoying the warm dip.

FOUND: One mustard

Just now I found a mustard (pictured below) in my coat pocket.





I have no idea how said mustard even got into my pocket, but I am now wondering what happened to its friends Salt Shaker and Miniature Syrup.

Darkness and light

I've been trolling the internet hungry to find stories of other families who are in our situation. Babies who have survived. Babies who haven't. Those with toddlers at home. Desperate for some sort of road map for how I should be feeling and what I should be doing.

Most of the time I feel as if I'm shuffling around, kind of like when I don't have my contacts in. Things that are vaguely familiar are still kind of hazy. Some things I can't see at all.

In reading Salon this morning I stumbled upon an article from this summer.

Parts of the article forced me to close my office door and cry. They were the words I have not been able to say, but have felt.

"One of life's great illusions is the notion that we can want -- and get -- things on our own terms, no matter what. It's human nature to seek pleasure and avoid suffering, but what happens when suffering finds you?"

"I wanted to believe in the stories of positive outcomes, but I also was very aware that we were facing a long road, and tried to prepare myself for being the mother of a child with disabilities."

"My husband and I did go through fertility treatments, and the multiple birth was the result of those fertility treatments. I remember in passing the doctor mentioning multiple birth as a potential "risk," as he put it, but never mentioning prematurity or extreme prematurity as a subsequent risk.

I think that fertility doctors clearly are very focused on providing a successful pregnancy for their patients. And parents who want these children are also very focused on achieving a successful pregnancy. It's not a story that one wants to hear. I don't know if someone had told me that this was possible that I would have even been prepared to listen. But it is a reality, and it does happen."

"As you were going through the initial months of your son's life, how did your friends and family react?

It was unpredictable. The people who I thought would be by our side and understand weren't always the people who were able to know what to do. This experience affects an entire family and circle of friends in ways that you can't describe, and some friends were very supportive, and some friends were overwhelmed, and really didn't know how to handle it. I think that it's a very challenging experience. I think it's hard on everyone. It's hard on family, and it's hard on friends. I don't think that people are equipped always to know what to do or say."

The hardest part for me during this entire experience when Evan and Ellie were born, during those years of his chronic illness, was just feeling alone. I think it's really important for parents not to feel alone. So, whatever a family member or friend can do to make that person feel less alone that's the thing that is going to make the difference. Not the right words."

"Is it because you are so consumed with your child's care that you feel alone? Or, because you didn't have contact with other parents who were going through the same thing?

I think that it has more to do with the trauma of the experience. I think that anyone who has gone through trauma will say: "I can't explain this. No one understands this." It's just the typical reaction to trauma. The people who make you feel less alone are the people with whom you share that trauma."

"How did this experience affect your marriage?

We worked hard. We still work hard. And we certainly had to solve problems in our marriage that many people do not have to solve, such as where do we bury our child? Or, I don't feel like taking him to the 15th doctor's appointment this week, can you do it? Those kinds of negotiations were certainly far more intense than most people have to make in a marriage."

"Initially, you blamed yourself for the twins' extreme prematurity. Why do you think you did that? And how did that change over time?

I think as mothers we feel very omnipotent, and very responsible, as though we're supposed to somehow make everything go well. And in my case I had not been able to do that, so I felt responsible. A lot of people tried to explain to me that it wasn't my fault.

But I still felt as thought I should have known, and I should have been able to prevent it. Finally, I understood that I had to stop blaming myself, and accept what happened, and that it wasn't my responsibility."

Duck math

Back in the day (2005 to be exact), I had enough Type A-ness streaming through me to plan ahead and get an Aflac policy for when I would eventually be out on maternity leave (my employer doesn't offer short term disability, just long term) and need to still be paid.

Turns out we didn't end up using that policy until much later (enter the success of Dr. EBFS and his wonderful shots)--but it was fabulous when I received those checks just like the commercials said I would. Granted it took some forms and faxing between my OB's office and my HR department, but it all shook out.

This time around--holy hell.

Let me begin by saying that the side of my brain that requires math skills (left? right?) has very nearly atrophied from years of calculator and Husband utilization. So, when I called the Aflac rep. just to figure out what forms I needed to submit for the two policies I have, my brain almost exploded. I'm also pretty sure I heard him exhale in exasperation.

It's made complicated by the fact that I've returned to work and not taken the traditional 6, 8, 10, 12 weeks off after having a baby. My intent had been to file the short term disability paperwork for when I'd actually not be getting paid (March-ish), but turns out they want you closer to the actual debilitating event (aka childbirth) in order for the pay-out to occur.

So this is what I need to do in order to collect:

1. For policy #1, I need to call the hospital and get a copy of the bill. Because that should be easy. Wait, maybe it won't too hard. Aren't hospitals generally rarin' to go with bills?
2. I then need to have my ob fill out their portion of the claim form. Did you know that offices sometimes charge for this? Mine charges $12.00. What a crock! And it's not even the doctor that fills it out. It's the nurse! Seems like that should be cheaper. Just sayin'.
3. For policy #2, it turns out that I can't return to work at 100% pay and still expect Aflac to kick in. I have to be below 80%.
4. (Picture me asking the rep. the same question five times...) But this doesn't take into account any paid personal leave time I'm plowing through, so basically I have to work 31.6 hours a week to collect on the short term disability.
5. So now I have to talk with my boss about working 8.4 hours less a week for the length of the Aflac pay-out for a C-section (8 weeks).
6. File forms with boss
7. Wait for them to reach HR.
8. File policy #2 paperwork with HR.
9. Wait for them to fax it to Aflac.
10. Hope everything is filled out okay.
11. Wait for checks to arrive in the mail.

With any luck all of this will be completed by March when I will actually be out.

Angry

I'm angry that I can't go to sleep when I want.

I'm angry that I hate pumping so much yet it's the only thing I can actually do for my daughter.

I'm angry that all I feel is jealousy when I see other pregnant women.

I'm angry that each day of my pregnancy was a struggle.

I'm angry that all I feel is fear when I think about having additional children.

I'm angry when I have to leave my daughter's bedside.

I'm angry that someone at our home is always getting pimped. Me, T, E, Iris. It's always someone.

I'm angry that we have to return a crib that Noah will never sleep in.

I'm angry that I have eight tubs of little boy clothes that I'll never be able to put him in.

I'm angry that T and I are so damn tired and stressed out that sometimes we forget to be nice to each other.

I'm angry that my little girl will be having a peaceful day and then I remember that she might have to have open heart surgery one day--thereby ruining whatever good moment I was experiencing.

I'm angry because the baby book I bought for Iris contains pages that I have no idea what I should write down. No, she didn't have a shower. No, the day of her birth wasn't necessarily a joyous occasion. No, I don't have a picture of her going home outfit.

I'm angry that I want a pedicure but feel too guilty to get one.

I'm angry that I've cried more in these past two weeks than I have in my entire life.

Currently...

...T is watching "Hairspray" and tapping his foot to the musical numbers. Heavens.

...I am praying for Iris. Her intestines did indeed perforate and they're going to put a drain in her side either tonight or tomorrow morning (inserting the drain takes less than two minutes). The bad news is that this may mean more serious intestinal surgery later on. The good news is that some perforations close on their own. The other good news is that the relief on her tummy will be almost immediate and it should lower her need for oxygen since the belly poofiness has her requiring more oxygen than may be warranted.

...I am thinking about pie.

...I'm counting down the minutes until I can go to bed.

...I am feeling very stressed about returning to work and balancing that with visiting Iris, being tied to the breast pump that I go to third base with every 2 hours, delivering some sort of work product and perhaps most importantly, spending time with T and E. I have no bloody idea how I'm going to fit all that in. It kind of makes me hyperventilate. Like a lot.

...I am feeling dorky excited about a rather fabulous dry cleaning deal passed onto me by B. We spend a ridiculous amount on dry cleaning and so I can't wait to take advantage of it. Thanks, B!

...I am now getting up out of my chair for pie...

Step away from the pie

Today was a better day.

Iris still has one cranky tummy issue going on. Apparently the breast milk they started her on pissed her intestines right off. The neonatologist broke it down to three options as to what's going on right now: She has a perforated intestine. This is the worst of the options as it would mean a stop-gap procedure now and surgery later. OR--She has a teeny hole in her intestines and it's causing her belly to poof up. This is still bad, but these holes close up on their own, so no additional procedures needed. OR--She has a nasty infection that is causing her intestines to be inflamed. Again, not great since this inflammation could reach her lungs which are finally beginning to look better since her birth. But in this case they started her on antibiotics at the first sniff something was amiss, so this issue would be smoked by those meds.

Sigh.

The possible inflammation is also affecting her kidneys, so her diapers aren't as wet. They've started her on Dopamine to regulate her renal functions and smooth things over there. That med isn't a long term need since once the guts issue regulates itself, the kidneys will go back to being normal like they were before it all began.

Double sigh.

So, for those keeping track at home--this is what the list looks like:

Shout Out to JC:

• Her pulmonary something-or-other or PDA is closed (for most super preemies, this remains open and sometimes meds or surgery are needed).
• No brain bleeds (again, super common for mega early babies and the bleeds can be mild to really severe).
• No perforated intestine. Yet?
• No clots in her legs due to the lines they've put in her belly button.
• The scrapes on her head from the delivery process have healed and all I see is straight, black hair like E had when he was born.
• Fabulous nurses
• She's made it a week

Things That Will Resolve Themselves, So It's Better If I Don't Think About Them:

• Being on Dopamine for her temporary kidney issues
• Struggling with the initial feedings (preemie guts are really immature, so this is common)

Holy Jesus, For Real?:

• The dodgy intestinal issues that may or may not require surgery
• The hole in her heart between the two lower chambers. This may (although, probably not) close on its own, and if it doesn't she will need to have open heart surgery once she's older and healthier.
• The fact that the doctors still refer to her as a "very sick baby." Yeah, I get it. She and Noah should still be inside. Thanks for pointing that out. Butthead.

In other news, T and I have fallen into a deep hole that is called A Slice of Pie in the Evening. More specifically, we can't stop eating key lime pie. It's really sort of turned ugly. It's been hard for me to know how much to eat in order to keep my milk supply up yet also acknowledge the fact that I'm no longer pregnant and shouldn't eat like a trucker. Tough balance, or at least I'm finding it to be.

Also, my tummy is fairly gelatinous in nature and it's kind of creeping me out. I'm pretty sure the Pie Situation is not helping things firm up.

Lastly, but perhaps most importantly, I want to say thank you to everyone who has left kindness and thoughtfulness and faith in their Comments. I don't know many of you, so it astounds me that so many would offer to lift up our family in their daily lives. "Thank you" doesn't even begin to cover how your reassuring words have affected my heart and made me--us--feel cared for.

Thank you.

Manic

Today was a rough one. Not, of course, that the others haven't been; but there's a definite difference between Crap and Sweet Lord, Really?

This week T and I are both off work and we've fallen into the rhythm of getting ready in the morning, dropping E off at daycare (we're trying to keep his schedule and routine as much the same as we can), getting breakfast, heading to the hospital for a few hours, heading home for a bit, heading back to the hospital for another few hours, picking E up from daycare and then spending some time together. It leaves both of us tapped the eff out by the end of the day but T stays up until 11 or so with me because that's the last time I pump before passing out in a Vicodin laced stupor. Although, T and I are absolutely exhausted in about 479 ways, falling asleep and wondering what dreams await us make us both positively twitchy.

As for today, both of our visits to see Iris had us walking into a flurry of x-rays and bad news. We've been trying so very hard to hold onto whatever we can, that these set backs just feel like they're trying to wipe that slate clean. There were a few nuggets of good news, but they were then kind of swallowed up by our visit to the funeral home to finish the arrangements for Noah. It wasn't until today that I was able to fully comprehend the sentiment that a parent shouldn't have to bury a child.

T and I continue to find small ways to laugh and hug each other and be strong when the other one isn't. He continues to amaze me. Without him by my side through all of this, I would've surely thrown in the towel by now.

E is between runny noses, so we're mulling over when to take him to see Iris. Perhaps this weekend--in between going to the library and shopping for new shoes. For him, life moves on each day.

For us, the future scares the Holy Christ out of T and me. I've never been so frightened of something in all my life. So many unknowns.

Noah and Iris

I've been avoiding the internet, my email and phone calls from people like the plague. The evenings make me want to runaway from home, and when I leave the hospital and her bedside I want to weep because I already miss her. The only easy part of the day is when I wake up and get to see E's smiling face. From there the day is a horrendous ride of ups and downs, not knowing what T and I will be dealt. I feel like God holds the cards and won't let me see them. I miss the baby who I can't take home and I miss the baby I'll never get to hold again.

I don't even know how to start with what's been going on at our home, but a part of me wants to tell you because so many sent kind thoughts while I was pregnant.

At 8:00am last Thursday I had my Weekly Appointment of Doom.

At 9:30am they rushed me over to the hospital.

At 10:00am they told me I had to have an emergency C-section.

At 11:16am Noah and Iris were born.

At 11:22am Noah was no longer with us.

Iris has been in the NICU ever since.

I keep hoping that this is somehow not our reality, but it is and it's horrible.

Holy crap on a stick

We seem have slapped with what Google turns up hits on as the 18 month sleep regression. I can only think of two other times when such craptastic sleeping was blessed upon us: hitting the 4 month mark and whenever E is sick.

At four months, E took to waking up and babbling in his crib from the hours of 3:00am-5:00am. Equal parts enchanting and "wtf, mate?". Granted, I'd just leave him in there because as Red Door often says, "Nothing hurts. Go back to sleep." but I'd be awake until he passed back out. This still happens.

When sick, I'm a little less hard nosed. I'm not a super fan of raising up from my horizontal position, but when hearing E hack and whatnot--my heart does soften. A tidgy.

In the last week or so, we are starting to experience what I think is this alleged regression the interwebs, and other tortured souls, speak of. For naps this weekend, E would go down like a champ, sleep hard for 30 minutes and then wake up crying. T and I would stare wide-eyed at each other from our cozy spot in the living room because, hells bells, we were not reeeadddy for E to get up. We need an hour. Minimum. Two and some change is even better.

With T doing the majority of the baby-wrangling, it has turned him into a staunch enforcer of the crying it out. I guess when you're the lone wolf post-nap, buying extra time at the expense of some tears isn't such a hard decision to make.

At any rate, after a few minutes E would locate a pacifier (one of EIGHT we've strategically placed in his crib) and his taggie and pass out.

This also happened Monday night and last night. I guess Monday night he woke up crying, "paSEE! paSEE!" T rushed upstairs to find him on all fours with his eyes still shut (uh, kind of hard to find the pacifier like that, kid). I guess he popped one E's mouth, rubbed his back and crept out all stealth-like, careful to avoid the creaky board located centrally between the crib, the sound machine and the door.

Last night at 3:13am he again woke up crying. Not quite the shrieks when he has a night terror (those are horrible to hear), but kind of more along the lines, "Hey! What the...? Someone give me a hug, dammit! NOOOOOOWWWW." Despite the darkness, T and I lay perfectly still--for fear that E would hear or sense our movement and become even more incensed. If my memory serves me, isn't this what you're also supposed to do if encountering a bear in the woods?

Because we know our son and because we know our son's cries, we felt moderately confident in ignoring him. Meaning, we didn't exactly fall back asleep, but we didn't get up and make eye contact. Granted if T had ripped off his Scuba Steve mask, shuffled in there, picked E up and rocked him--E would've passed back out. Until it was time to be placed back in his crib. Then it would've been a cycle of his eyes shooting open, tears commencing and T eventually having to decide on the cry it out then. Being the experienced parents/suckas that we are, we were able to foresee that scenario in .005 seconds and make the decision to lie in bed.

Similar to over the weekend, E found a pacifier and his taggie and was out with only 10 minutes of general malaise.

Oh! And he slept until we woke him up at 8:00am, so I guess there's something to be said for a little crying and venting at night.

10 Wednesday afternoon tidbits

1. In a lively discussion here at work about just how bad does it really hurt to get kicked in the nuts, a co-worker deemed the anatomical female equivalent "lady junk."
2. In an effort to bulk up, my doctor suggested I drink an afternoon shake of Carnation Instant Breakfast. The nonsense is putrid and I now need an alternative.
3. We were paid early due to Veteran's Day tomorrow. Holla.
4. If I'm still pregnant this weekend, I'm going to start receiving the steroid shots to help speed along lung development. Am chugging towards 24 weeks like a woman on a mission. (Edit: I reread that sentence before hitting "Publish" and instead of "lung" I typed "lunch." Lunch development, indeed.)
5. We still have not grocery shopped. We now have even less food in the house. I can clearly see the back of the refrigerator. From across the room.
6. It is 4:15pm and I've accomplished not so very much this afternoon.
7. My boots still fit around calves which means water retention has yet to reach epic proportions.
8. In addition to #2, the Carnation Instant Breakfast has left me with ass breath. At work. Nice.
9. I got a manicure a week and a half ago from a new place in town and while it definitely doesn't look like a fresh jobbie and my cuticles are kind of snaggly, overall it still hasn't chipped. !!!
10. In the past week, three orders of mine (two hot chocolate and one Boston Market-related) have been screwed up. This makes me want to pistol-whip someone (no, not you, T).

No explanation needed

Working in reverse in recalling this weekend, I'd like to start off by saying it is no wonder to me that people get hooked on Mellow Goodtime Drugs like Vicodin.

I've reached that stage in pregnancy that when sleeping my back sometimes hurts and my hips always hurt. I'm 6 months this week and I don't remember feeling this way until I was at the super very end in my pregnancy with E. Ugh.

Anyway, because I was feeling a hot mess with those two things and desperately wanted a fabulous night of sleep, I took one of the Vicodin that my ob gave me during the Kidney Stone Debacle. I was out and heavy breathing and uber comfortable within 15 minutes (or by 8:45pm to be precise). It was lovely. When initially prescribed the Vicodin in the hospital I asked if it was okay to use it while pregnant and the doctor said it was--but that it would have the same effect on the babies as it would me. Meaning Sleepytime USA for all three of us.

A good night's sleep came in so very handy last night because Sunday was chockful of whatnot, mainly going to Toys R Us to buy E a few big boy toys in the morning and having E dedicated at church in the afternoon. All in all, I spent way to much time on my feet.

T and I decided to not wait until Christmas to buy E a few toys because we realized a few weeks ago that the boy has very little to play with. I stashed his baby toys quite awhile ago and this left him with bupkis. It was pathetic, really. And it really only becomes apparent on the weekends when he has 48 straight hours at home. Anyway, we sprang for a mini-workbench and a shopping cart with little foods. E is a fan of the mini-syrup.

After putting everything together, wrangling E down for a nap and then stuffing him into a sweater vest--we headed to church to have him dedicated. It went smoothly, but at one point, when our pastor had been talking for too long, the crowd--made up mainly of those under 3 feet tall--turned decidedly restless. We only managed to keep E marginally quiet by stuffing him full of goldfish crackers and entertaining him with boardbooks.

Oh, and it was 73 degrees here on Sunday. While I enjoyed it, whenever freak weather like that happens--I end up stroking my imaginary beard and feeling like the old guy in The Day After Tomorrow who is decidedly suspicious of the weather. Because, you know, in a minute it means the Apocolypse for anyone north of the Mason-Dixon line.

Saturday was full of me feeling like a hot mess for no particular reason and not taking a shower until 3pm and then only under duress from T because we had to be somewhere and wouldn't it be nice if I smelled better? Pfft. Later that afternoon, E and I got our H1N1 shots where the nurse exclaimed that E has nice thighs (can't remember the last time someone told me that). He cried for a hot minute but then was comforted by a sticker with a dog and flowers on it. So easily bought.

Changing topics a bit, T and I are beginning to experience with E what we can only explain as Being a Toddler (or Being a Pill, as I've started to feel). E goes limp like a protester when the mere fabric of his coat hits his arms. It's, like, "Coat? What the hell do you want from me, people?" Because I can't bend over to save my life and T is usually upstairs still trying to put on his pants, I either end up trying to speak calmly and explain what's happening or lifting his limp-noodle-like 30 lbs to a point where putting the coat on is do-able. Shoes are more easily maneuvered since he can flail like a fish and I can still stuff those on his feet. Coat and shoes. Damn. Who knew that injustice lay in the heart of Pediped? We've yet to experience him being a consistent pill at other times. He still listens reasonably well for being 17 months, but, again, it's becoming apparent that E has a will and he wants to exercise it.

What else happened this weekend...

Nothing really. I'm still pregnant which is good.

Oh! In yet another turn that will make weaning an absolute beyotch, E has learned how to say pacifer, or paci as we call it in our house. He says it with a lovely, almost French accent with emphasis on the second syllable. It comes out, "paSEE." Yesterday evening we had dinner at my parents house and homeboy was burnt.out. Stuffing him in the carseat for the four minute ride home was clearly beyond him, and in between tears and snot he was wailing, "PaSEE! PaSEE!" Poor soul. T found one in his suit jacket and all was well.

We also failed to go grocery shopping this weekend and have absolutely zero food in the house. Dinner tonight should be interesting.

Anything particularly lovely happen over your weekend?

Hunkering down for the winter

I think I mentioned this in an earlier post, but T and I have decided to turn our sun porch into a playroom for E. I love the concept of playrooms: stashing all toys in one room where the express purpose is to house clutter, mayhem and kid paraphernalia. No energy to pick-up: Simply close the door.

If $50,000 were to drop from the sky, I'd finish our third floor attic and turn that into a playroom. The attic, while outfitted with a lovely door and stairs off our second story, completely creeps me out--mainly because I'm convinced that wily and pissed off squirrels live up there just waiting for me to venture up before they jump on my back and/or back.

As a result, I haven't been in our attic since 2007, but T walks up there to check things out periodically. Of course, I then pepper him with, "Was there anything...dead or creepy or alive?" Anyway, I'm thinking an extra 50K would finish that third floor off rather nicely and make it a haven for playing children and a loud television. However in the absence of extra cash, we're working with what we've got--the sun porch.

Our goal is to order everything and then outfit it as E's Christmas gift. Since almost everything I found is available to purchase online, I'm thinking we should crack a lackin'.

Here is what I've come up with:

Like the rest of our house, the floor in the sun porch is hard.ass.oak. As we've found out, it doesn't exactly cushion a blow--especially for one's melon. We figure some foamy business might do E's body and our knees some good as playing commences. Found on Amazon, we should be able to cover the whole room for less than $40.00.

I found this tent on Ikea's website and like everything from Ikea is named some sort of wonky Swedish name and is super cheap. E is fan of little cubbies he can cram his body into, so this tent seemed like it might be right up his alley. We live slap dab between two Ikeas. A larger one in the Chicago-area and a smaller one near Detroit. Thankfully, the Ikea stuff I've found is available in the the smaller one and T happens to drive past it when he works on that side of the state. Ole.

Initially we wanted to outfit the whole room (which is maybe 12x20) with this sort of foamy, climby business. E has some of the larger pieces in his daycare room and holy hell he loves them. In Googling to try and find out where to buy these pieces and see how much they cost, I kind of gasped. The large squares and triangles and other things cost $300-$400. A search of Craigslist and other venues for used pieces didn't turn up much--which, no kidding! You pay that much, you hold onto it. Anyway, the smaller pieces are much, much cheaper and will hopefully serve the same purpose of allowing E to fling his body over them and wear him out.

Right now we do all of our coloring on the floor. It's easier for me since I am Large of Girth and E seems to dig it. Play-Do, though, not such a good idea on the living room area rug. Or finger painting. Or other crafts that may involve glitter (sigh...I love glitter). So this small craft table from Ikea seemed like a good idea. And it comes in a ton of fun colors. And is cheap, so if markers or paint or anything gets smeared on it--well, that's cool.

Gotta have pint-sized chairs to go with that craft table.

Our goal is to not spend a lot of money because in reality, E is completely fine without an additional play area (he already uses the whole house) and also has no idea that gifts are given for Christmas. Shoot, last year I think we gave him maybe two things. He was only six months old for heaven's sake--what the heck did he need? It makes me excited, though, to think of doing up the room and showing it to him near or around Christmas. And, heck, I think it'll help us all through the Midwest's never ending winter months.

For they are bleak.

WAD and weight gain

This morning we had the Weekly Appointment of Doom, or WAD as I've come to think of it my head. Aside from the fact that I'm still leaking fluid and aside from the fact that Little Boy's fluid is still waaaaayyy below (ideal is between 5-8, he's at .67) what it should be, things look great (not sure if a question mark or an exclamation point is appropriate here). Kidneys, bladder, stomach, movement, placenta, umbilical cord, heart rates are all right-on for both. Next week they'll do a growth check and our hope is that both of them are still continuing to beef up.

Both T and I felt anxious last night, he probably more than I. I felt like we already knew what the worst case scenarios and everything in between could possibly be. Really--we've heard and talked about them all. So what made this WAD different is that, realistically, there shouldn't be any sucker punches. Weeks prior?--we were the suckas. And today it was a blessing. No changes for the worse.

The percentages for the survival of the two amigos are still abysmal if I were to deliver today, but the percentage of women who deliver within that first week of their water breaking--this early on--is 50%. The two amigos have beat that. They are still inside and seemingly cozy.

I want to revel and wrap this news around me like a blanket, but don't want to get too big for my britches since the truth of the matter is that everything is still hour-to-hour here.

We also talked about the upcoming weeks, our fears and our options and the perinatologist was open to what T and I prefer, as it may be going against some of his more standard recommendations. We'll just have to see what next week brings. Who knows.

We talked about my weight a bit as I should have gained about 20-25 pounds by now and I've only gained 10. I eat a fair amount in the morning and a crapton at lunch, but by evening time I'm tired and worn out and not really hungry. So, I need to beef up and start mowing at night. How's that for a goal? Not sure that's in a Weight Watchers booklet.

So, as we speak I feel a strange combination of peppy and wary.

I'm also planning what I want to eat for lunch as I'm thinking of seriously strapping on the feed bag.

Scene: Early this morning, bedroom

As T and I are trying to get ourselves and E ready for the day, T tells me, "Go ahead put on your makeup. I'll get Little Man ready while you're doing that."

Me: "I already have my makeup on."

Daaaamn, Gina.

Please hold

I'm finding myself and our home in an interesting holding pattern. Because of this pregnancy, T and I so very much find ourselves living and planning hour to hour. The house is always picked up, the bed is always made, the laundry is perpetually done, our work schedules are relatively open--we only think hours into the future. I've postponed my volunteering commitments until I deliver. I'm hesitant to sign up for a child/teacher conference in E's classroom next week. I'm not sure when or if Christmas shopping will get done. We would like to sign up for membership classes at our church, but I'm not sure I can commit to two Sundays mornings in November. The H1N1 vaccine is available at the health department the next three Saturdays and I find myself wondering if I should even bother signing up for a slot.

As a Type A planner this is foreign to me. This sitting-and-waiting isn't particularly hard as I know the reasoning behind it; it's just odd. While none of us know what the future truly holds, we all certainly make plans like we know how it's going to shake out. Except that T and I don't know that.

We've put the nursery on hold, partly because we're not sure if we'll need it. And while the planner in me would rather get it all done, hustling faster more now than even before, the truth is that if these babies came today they only have a 10-20% chance of making it. These percentages go up every week, but how many weeks will we or the two amigos get--inside or outside the womb?

Each morning T and I pray that the babies stay inside for 10 more hours. Each night I pray that I'm not woken up by contractions or bleeding. Last night more than ever. E is wrestling a fierce cold and he needs us right now to lounge and snuggle with.

All of that to say that it's not doom and gloom at our house. We still laugh and enjoy each other and chase E around the dining room. But the cloud of uncertainty hanging over our heads is always there and we can't seem to shake it.

Halloween 2.0

Last year it was bears and bananas--this year it was Elmo.

Inadvertently, B and E were both dressed as Elmo. They both were also very nonplussed about being stuffed into their costumes for picture-time at 11:30am on a Saturday.

Evidence: the happiest photo of either of them from this year. Smashed together, they also looked like a giant pissed off afghan draped over the couch.

E basically had upturned eyebrows of suspicion the entire time. However things improved once dressed and playing in B's ballpit (which was feces and hypodermic needle-free).

That evening my parents came over to help us hand out candy. Be it a cultural difference or just a general Scrooge McDuck-air, T hates/loathes/would rather be dead than handing out candy. I parked my biscuits in a chair and watched while E got into it.

"There's nothing to see here."

T also thought E resembled a small Yeti which I have to agree with.

Helping himself to some candy. I don't know if it was the crinkly sound or the bright wrappers or what--but he went ape and was just tossing the stuff around like confetti.

(I'm sure my mom is going to hate this picture since it features her can, but seeing as she doesn't read this...)

E was a fiend with handing out the candy and loved everyone coming to the door. Some of the creepier masks had him running to my dad.

E was in bed by 7:30pm and our candy was gone by 8:00pm. It was a good Halloween even if the weather didn't cooperate.