The Afterbirth

After I had my baby, I was ready to go home.  I don't know why exactly, everyone said I was nuts, that I should have stayed a little longer and enjoyed the "concierge",  But that is one expensive hotel.  I was really wanting to get life going with this little baby girl.  As I have said before, the newborn stage is not my thing.  I enjoy their cuteness and... well it pretty much ends there.  But little girls come with something little boys don't get, PINK!!!  And purple too.  Dresses, and bows, and ribbons, and flowers, frilly lace, and oh so much more.  That was so worth the 3am wake ups, and the 6 am, and 9 am, and.....

Just 2 days after being discharged from the hospital my mother-in-law came to visit.  We didn't know when this little one would pop, and so the initial plan was for her to come and help out with B before the delivery and while we were in the hospital.  Pretty princess had her own thoughts on when she would celebrate her birthday and came before gammy got there.

Now in thoughts that one day she may read this, I will say...  I love my mother-in-law, and her intentions were probably good.  But she knows this was not a good trip to visit.  I was already upset she wasn't coming when I wanted her to come.  And B has never really gotten to know her extremely well.  Well if you remember to my previous post, little prince charming didn't want anyone holding his baby except mommy.  Well Gammy was no exception.  She, as most new grandmothers would, wanted to hold the baby.  Fights ensued.  Annoyed by anything that require my eyes be open, more fights ensued.  I am glad she came in retrospect.

During her visit we celebrated his third birthday.  No big party like the previous year, just some cup cakes and presents.  He ate dinner at McD's and we saw Lion King in theaters.  He got a power wheel cop car.  So in his mind PERFECT.

The first week of October my mom visited.  B had calmed a bit, but still needed mommy to have control of his baby.  It wasn't a very exciting visit, but mommy always knows how to make you feel better.  I think I needed no excitement anyways.

When she left it was one more week at home and then back to work.

It Was Over, But Just Beginning

When a woman's water breaks on tv, everyone knows that their water broke.  While mine came with a very noticeable gush, I was still not sure I hadn't just peed myself.  It was the Tuesday after Labor day, should have done it one day sooner darn it that would have been hilarious.  I was supposed to be getting up in a few hours to go to work.  Went to the bathroom, and still unsure that I hadn't just peed myself I began to make muffins.  Brody was still asleep, but I did wake up the hubby.  Moving hours upon hours away from everyone you know is a good thing, until stuff like this happens.  Then what do you do with your kids.  Well he went to daycare everyday, so why not today.  We took him when they opened at 7am, which was early, and informed them a friend may be picking him up.  When they asked why we told them my water broke and we were going to have a baby.  At first the woman thought we were joking because of how calm we were, but then hurried us out the door so I didn't have the baby there.  Thank God my water did actually break or I would have just admitted to this woman that I indeed did pee myself.

We got to the hospital, which was a few blocks away, at about 730.  Went to registration, and they made me sit in the wheelchair.  Get to L&D, where I know them all from working at the OBGYN office and the multiple NST's, and find out I did not just pee myself.  I was relieved.  Until I remembered that the rest of the day was going to be "fun".

I was hooked up to all the monitors and machines, and we were ready to go.  And nothing was happening.  Not one freaking contraction.  It was almost like a bad joke.  We found the cause of my contractions was probably extra fluid.  Nothing we could do about it now.  So I was started on Pitocin.  An evil little drug that causes your uterus to contract.  EVIL EVIL EVIL Sh**.  The "fun" part of having your water break before labor is it continuously leaks.  Every time you move, or the baby moves a certain way, a little more comes out.  It is like peeing yourself a million times over.

We fully didn't expect too much about what time the delivery would take place.  But at 328pm, she was here.  They took her straight to be given oxygen, she came out with the cord wrapped tight, and after about 45 minutes I was holding my sweet baby princess.  I didn't really go through the emotions til much later.  It was kind of a numb feeling experience.  Not the awe inspiring moment, where the 3 of us were all that existed, like it was when we delivered B.  It was like something was missing.  To this day I don't know if I felt jipped to be having her, rather than my angel, or if I just felt like B should have been there.  But it just didn't feel right.

Greg left soon after, picked up the new big brother, and brought him back.  Now my almost 3 year old, had not been around many kids.  He had spent the last months obsessed with everything baby related.  Carried around a doll and pointed out any and every picture of a baby we passed.  But we were unsure of what to expect.  He was going to have to share his mommy and daddy.  But when he walked in, it was the definition of love at first sight.  He wanted to protect her, and take care of her.  It was the best feeling any mom could hope for.  This came at the expense of other people getting to enjoy her.  He didn't want anyone near her.  Was even leary of the nurses coming and going, and one gave him ice cream and he still told her she needed to go bye bye,

That night it was Caitlyn Riley and mommy all alone.  I changed her into a new outfit, brushed her insanely thick curly hair, and cuddled.  She was mine.  All the doubt of if I loved her was gone.  All the disconnect I had throughout the pregnancy had vanished.  She was mine, and like B they were letting us keep her.

Pregnancy Sucks

At first they only came every once in a while, but by 20 weeks they were every 20 minutes.  No break in between, and quite scary.  Contractions aren't supposed to happen this early, and we are taught to be afraid of these sorts of things.  But in fact, the uterus is a muscle designed to contract, totally normal.  Unfortunately you can't expect a hormonal pregnant woman to bring this to reality and accept it.

We found out April 22, 2011, what would have been my due date with our angel, that we were indeed having a little girl.  This was exciting and scary.  I don't know what to do with a girl, as silly as it sounds as I am a girl, and I never thought in a million years it would happen.  I always saw myself surrounded by a houseful of boys.  Not that I didn't want a girl, but I didn't believe it still.  I didn't want to be one of those people who go out and buy all pink only to come home with a little boy who can wear none of the clothes and sleeps in the pink trimmed bassinet with his butterfly room.  But I was convinced after several ultrasounds with full crotch views.  She wasn't a modest fetus, which was a good thing but hopefully the modesty grows as she does. =)

With the fun contractions came fun cervix checks.  Every 2 weeks at first til there was a slight change, then every week.  Also my amazing OB did ultrasounds to check the length of my cervix, which stayed good.  We also had to do a test called Fetal Fibronectin.  A negative test shows that your chances of going into labor in the next 2 weeks are very very low.  We like negative tests.  But after all the weeks of negative, I was shocked to find out that one had come back positive at 26 weeks.  That was a little too real for myself to handle.  I freaked out.  I knew what to do with negative tests, relax, positive ones I had no idea how to react, so I cried.  Like a baby.  I know that positive ones, don't mean anything.  No meaning that labor will come NOW!!! or even soon.  But it was still frightening.  I was immediately sent to Labor & Delivery for a non stress test and a few other tests.  The OB that I have been seeing the whole time wanted to give me the steroid shots to get the baby as ready as a 26 week old could be.  But the OB on call talked us both out of it.  Thank goodness.

Other pregnancy fun things had come and gone.  Like nausea, that finally went away but would still poke its ugly head back up every once in a while.  Heart burn that was the temperature of the third ring of Hell.  My pelvic bone separated to the point I would cry just to roll over in bed.  And my wonderful heart issues.  When I am not pregnant, I am in pretty good shape.  I eat fairly healthy and exercise some.  When I am pregnant I get amazing heart palpitations.  Like the organ is trying to rest and then plays catch up.  That happened with my previous two pregnancies so not many thoughts of it.  But this pregnancy brought a new fun thing.  Tachycardia.  My heart rate was insane.  Anything under 120 beats per minute is acceptable.  Mine went way up several times.  Stayed in the 150's and hiked all the way to 180's on a few occasions.  To say the least I felt like crap.  This problem was only made worse when they would try to stop the contractions.  There was an oral pill, Procardia, that resulted in 180's and me feeling like death.  We stopped that, they didn't do much for the contractions anyways.  And once I went in to L&D and had several big contractions so they gave me the shot to stop them, for the life of me I can't remember the name of it.  That sucked.  Shot my heart up so high they wouldn't let me leave til it went back down.  And finally it did.  That one stopped the contractions for a whole hour.  They continued throughout the pregnancy, and towards the end it was every 10-15 minutes, all day every day.  At least 2 months of that.  As for why I was never on bed rest.  There was no change to the cervix so much as it required it.  My pulse rate did require me to miss work several weeks.  But the contractions were just another huge part of my pregnancy.  My "normal".

All of this continued, with many trips to L&D, many cervix checks, a few trips to the cardiologist, and many worried nights.  Until I was "far enough" along that I knew it would be okay, not ideal but okay, for her to meet us.

And then 5AM September 6th, GUSH!  The contractions stopped.

What Comes After A Storm

My first meeting with Dr Lin, I was just there to establish myself as a patient.  I was supposed to see a different doctor, but she didn't know much about the Molar pregnancies, so I got passed off.  I was kind of happy, I had never had a female OBGYN, as weird as that is to some.
I sat in the exam room and waited to meet the new doctor.  I was by myself because it wasn't really an appointment for Greg or B to be at, and it was freezing outside.  I sat alone in the room and heard what I could have gone many more months without hearing.  The room next to me was occupied by a young woman.  I will never know who, or how far along she was, but they were listening to her baby's heartbeat.  That amazing sound.  Like galloping thunder.  I tried and tried to hold back the tears, but they started to run down my face like it was a race to show how unstable I truly had become.
Then he walked in He was a short Asian man, sort of a cold bed side manner, but he knew what he was talking about.  I liked that about him.  He really tried to be likable.  He even apologized several times for me having to hear the heartbeat, like it was in his power to control I never be around things that triggers tears.  He, of course, advised against us trying for another baby so soon, but admittedly so, he could not control my birth control.  That was literally put into my chart.  He said I should have had more blood work follow ups, and that he would order some, to make sure it stays negative.  That was Friday.  Saturday I felt a little weird, and vomited dinner.  Whether he could have controlled my birth control or not, it was too late.  Sunday I peed on that stick.  A line appeared, faintly.  Very faintly, but very there.  I began to sob again.  It was what I had wanted.  But instead of excitement and giddiness.  I met fear and anxiety.  It was everything Greg could do for the next 9 months to push them away, but they hung around the whole pregnancy.
I called the doctor Monday and told them, he ordered more blood work in disbelief because the numbers from Friday were definitely negative.  I was, indeed, pregnant.
A few weeks later we met again for a sono.  And there it was.  The placenta, the yolk sac, the beating heart.  And my reaction.  Nothing.  Greg went on about how we could stop worrying and that we should be excited.  But I had held that excitement before.  Even though seeing the heartbeat drops your chance of a miscarriage to 5%, I had been that 5%.  I didn't want to get to know a baby I would never bring home anyways.  These are the kinds of joyful thoughts that my optimistic husband got to deal with through the next few months.  At least he just had to deal with them, I had to think them and worse.

A few weeks later I got a call that I got a job.  This being February, I interviewed in November the previous year.  But I was unemployed and so it was perfect.  It was for an OBGYN office in town.  My OBGYN office.  The irony was awesome!!!

I went in for my first day on the job and everyone was surprised i couldn't speak Spanish.  My last name is Crews, and I guess they had only heard it.  I wondered why this was such a big deal, until almost every patient that day was Hispanic with little to no knowledge of the English language.  It was interesting to learn new things about an unfamiliar culture. As a place to be while pregnant, it had ups and downs.  We had to be in the room with Dr Lin anytime a patient had to be undressed.  It was inconvenient, but necessary. It was neat because you got to watch lots of ultrasounds.  It wasn't neat because you got to see lots of ultrasounds.  You got to see the good ones, the shocking ones (like hey there are two in there), and then the bad ones.  Oh there should be one, but there are none.  The ultrasounds I had experience with.  My first was on my second week there.  I was still following around Nurse Angie.  I miss Angie, just saying.  But if she went somewhere I was to follow and mop up as much info as possible.  I followed her into an early ultrasound.  The patient should have been about 8 weeks along.  And there was no baby.  It was devastating.  Obviously to her.  But I had to excuse myself and stood behind the building for ten minutes or so bawling my eyes out.  I knew the pain, and didn't know if I could keep the job.
But it got easier.  Not the losses of course, but I came to love the job, and notice that the losses were not that plentiful, thank God, Allah or whoever you believe in.

Until one day it was my turn for an appointment.  I didn't want to clock out and sit in the waiting room, so I worked all day long.  I decided if we got some down time, which we never did, I would have the dr see me real quick and then go on.  But real quick never came, and finally it was the end of the day.  This was it.  I was right back where it ended last time.  Taking a real quick look, a picture for the road.  I was just expecting the Doppler, but he took me back to sono and we took a look.  There, where the baby should have been, was a baby.  I lost my marbles after that.  I bawled and bawled.  He, as I have mentioned the lack of bedside manner, was amazed at my professionalism of all things.  I think he was looking for things to say to distract me from becoming dehydrated.  He told me that if I ever wanted him to take a peek at the little one, to just let him know.

I have learned that milestones are very important.  And after a loss, getting past where you got to last time is a big one.  I hit 14 weeks, and went through 14 weeks, like nothing happened.  It didn't cure my thoughts that this baby would not be coming home, but I was finally breathing normally and not with caution.  I did, at that moment, have a shred of hope that baby would be mine to hold and sing to the way I had done with my big boy.  I thought that this storm might be over and my rainbow is shining through the clouds.

Then the contractions started.

What the???

We had an appointment that Friday before we left Saturday for our cross country move.  It was at this appointment that our lives would take another twist.  Dr Nethers was very sorry to inform me that the pathology had come back positive for partial hydatiform mole.  My spell check doesn't even recognize the word.  Poor Dr Nethers had been pretty stumped himself.  He handed me some brochures, explained it the best he could, said not to try to conceive for another year, I would have to have blood work to make sure the hormone levels returned to zero, and that was that.

We left Kentucky devastated.  I didn't want to wait a year for a baby, I was supposed to be pregnant.  If you want to know what kind of news not to get before a cross country drive alone in the car with a toddler, this would be it.  I stewed over it.  I thought about it.  I remember reading some info, but vague info, about molar pregnancies when I was doing my insane research earlier in the pregnancy.  All I could remember was the not trying to conceive.
After we were settled in, I started my own reading.  I looked and looked for information, but found next to nothing.  The same backdated mentioning of Molar pregnancies that my OB had given to me.  I was frustrated and felt completely lost.  Baby Center has always been my choice site for things baby related.  I went there after finding nothing everywhere else.  On Baby Center I found a wealth of information.  Not only were there support groups for people going through losses, there was one specific to Molar pregnancies.
The loss group was the best support I could have asked for.  It was so sad to see that there were so many people suffering silently like I was.  How unknowingly cold people could be to those going through it all.  And how my situation was truly not the worst that I could have ever imagined.  I am even really good friends with one of the girls I met at this stage.  We both have our rainbows born a few weeks apart.  It was a truly amazing journey that started in such a personal Hell.

On the Molar pregnancy support group there were links.  Lots and lots and lots of links to the info I had been so desperately looking for.  Molar pregnancies are so rare, especially in the US, that most of the info was on sites from other countries.  England has a whole center devoted to treating these kinds of pregnancies with a waiting list and everything.

On these sites I learned so much.  Even explained why my morning sickness, fatigue, and joint pain was so terrible.  I learned that with this kind of pregnancy comes a risk of cancer.  Scary word to hear at 25 years old.  I learned why the weekly blood draws.  I also learned that the waiting time for trying to conceive had been changed, and differed from doctor to doctor.

After much research and personal consideration, the hubs and I decided we weren't waiting.  No doctor agreed.  The one I had transferred from said he didn't recommend it and why.  Even the new OB said he wold prefer I wait, and explained what i already knew.  Little did we know, I was already carrying a little rainbow.

Over

It was over for lots of people.  It was over to my family, and friends.  It was over on my chart and to my insurance companies.  It was over for everyone around me.  But to me, it wasn't.  Nothing felt done about it.  I was broken.  I didn't know whether to grin and bear it for everyone around me, or break down to make people understand.  When you suffer a miscarriage, in our society, you suffer alone.  It is a bad thing that no one wants to think about, let alone talk about.  To think or talk about it makes it real to them.  But it was real to me.  I could do nothing to make it something I read about once.  Or Something I knew someone else had experienced.  I couldn't make it something that could never happen to me.  It was definitely not over in my mind.  I don't think it is over still.

The effects of the loss of my baby still haunt my thoughts.  Even when some happy moments have replaced the sad ones, they will never be gone.  But to many, it never happened.

Our Household Will Grow By Two Feet

As with the last pregnancy my positive pregnancy test set off a stream of excitement, I don't know what lottery I would have to win to top it.  I could not have been more excited.  So I started spreading the news fast and furious.  Only to close family and friends.  I told my mom, who was with me when I bought the 2-pack pregnancy tests, that I would not be needing the second test.  She was disappointed, thinking I started my period, but then quickly figured it out.  I told Greg by hiding the test in our bathroom and telling him to go kill a spider in the tub.  He didn't see the darn thing.  The spider or the test, so I had to tell him there is no spider and look what is coming for us.  We told his mom by surprising her with B's newest article of clothes, a "I'm the big brother" tee.  Yes is was early, but that didn't matter.
And then people knew me too well and started guessing.  A coworker noticed I was eating horribly, the only other time I ate chocolate, chips, and crap like that was holidays and when I was pregnant with B  And it wasn't Christmas-time.  Once she found out, everyone and their mommas were finding out.
After the first doctors appointment, where they did an early sono, I decided it was time to release the info to the rest of the world before my mom or mother-in-law exploded with elation they weren't allowed to share.  I still wonder if they both kept the secret like they say they did.
I was 8 weeks along when I sent out a family email to the hubby's side.  All it said in it was that our home would be expanding by two feet in April 2011.  The phrase haunts me to this day.
Everyone shared in our joy.  We had another appointment with my OB, and he did a quick scan since it would be to early to hear with the Doppler.  There our little prince was.  Heart beating away.  Not a problem to be seen.
A friend of mine had even warned me of sharing this kind of news too early, a superstition to her, and many others, that I didn't find necessary.  If something was going to happen, it would have happened by now.  But she got in my head, and the worrier in me began reading about every kind of loss imaginable.  Blighted-ovum, ectopic, still birth, the list of horribleness goes on and on and on.

The morning sickness with B had patiently waited until I was 14 weeks to kick in, then stayed around to the bitter end, when I was puking in the delivery room.  I felt sort of relieved that it had kicked in right away thinking maybe it would leave sooner too.  But man did it ever kick in.  I could smell the world, the good and the bad, and the REALLY BAD.  It all made me so sick to my stomach that water sounded awful.  I was so tired and in very bad pain.  I could barely take care of my poor little man, who became camped out either at Nana's house while I lay in the floor waiting for her to kick me out, or he got stuck in front of the tv.  The body aches and joint pain were ridiculous.  So much so that I asked the Rheumatologist that I worked for if it was normal for pregnancy.  He said yes, of course it was, looking back I doubt this much pain could have ever been considered normal.

With all the sickness and pregnancy, we took a trip.  We went to Chicago.  My first time ever.  Hubs has family up there, family I have never met since his grandma did not approve of us getting married so young.  And since I had never met them neither had B.  So we went.  It was awesome.  She took us to all the must see places in Chicago and we had a blast.  B had an epic melt down, much like the one in the car with the couple when we were house hunting, and she immediately branded him forever in her mind to have autism.  I am not saying he does or he doesn't, but this was a rather snap judgement that she made off of meeting him for the first time, and he was overly tired again.  But anyways.  While we were there a paper from Guymon, Oklahoma called Greg for an interview.  They offered him the job.  We had too much to discuss, although his grandmother again butted in and said he should definitely take it, what were thinking having to discuss.  It had a higher title, and a slightly higher paycheck, and that was as good as gold in her book.
On the way home we thought and talked, and he had decided to at least use this opportunity to leverage a raise at his current job.  Well they didn't take the bate, so off to Guymon we would go.

One last stop before we packed up.  It was Friday October 15, 2010.  My 14 week check up with my OB.  Greg went with me.  He had gone to every appointment when I was pregnant the first time, but this was the first he attended this go around since we didn't like to take Brody for quick in and out kind of things.  My mom had him.  Was taking him til late night.  So Greg came.  In walks Dr. Nethers, we tell him of our impending move, and even say our good byes.  He pulls out the Doppler.  Nothing, no noise.  He said it was still early to get that every time, so he would get the old sono machine and give us a picture for the road.  He put the wand on my tummy, and looked and looked.  After about 30 seconds I began sobbing.  I knew what no one in the room was saying.  Greg was completely puzzled.  Dr Nethers said there was still hope, and we should go to the imaging center right away for a better look.  He said he wasn't thinking optimistically.  I was crying so hard I could barley move.  I almost had to be picked up and carried from the office.  We had an appointment in a few hours, and then were to return to the office to discuss results.  I bawled uncontrollably up until it was time to go to the imaging center.  Greg kept trying to comfort me, they were wrong when they said it with B and they will be wrong this time.  But I knew.
At the imaging center I had to go and change in a sterile cold bathroom, adjacent to the sono room.  While I was in there, undressing as slowly as possible, I was pleading with God.  To please put my baby back where it should be.  I didn't know how to handle this obstacle, or if I could even.  But God doesn't always answer yes.  The sonographer confirmed what we already knew.  The baby had stopped growing shortly after the first sono at 6.5 weeks.  The heart was still beating at 8 weeks, we saw it.  That meant I had been carrying around my dead baby for 6 weeks.  That was the thought I couldn't, and still can't, erase from my mind.  My baby was gone and I never knew it.  I was still puking, still hurting, and still felt very very very pregnant.  But the baby was gone.
The baby was physically not gone though, and so I was scheduled for a D&C October 19.  We had to be to the hospital super early, so B stayed with my mom.  His first overnight.  We got there, everything went as well as it could have, and then it was over.

Growing Up Brody: The Real Fun Begins

The first year was full of firsts.  And while there were many left to come, there is no denying they stopped coming so quickly.  A good thing in my book.  Still not a turtle pace, but better.

The first thing I remember after him turning one is Halloween.  He was but 6 weeks old the first time it came around, so this time he could "participate".  Now we didn't go door to door, because mom and dad did not need the candy, but we all dressed up.  Little B was in a dinosaur/dragon costume that roared when you pushed a button.  Our neighborhood was the favorite in town, for some reason, and we were flooded with about 300 little aliens, monsters, and princesses.  It was so much fun for me, who got to sit on the porch and hand out candy.  Not as much fun for dad, who got to walk up and down the block.  And then up and down the block.  And then up and down the block.  He refused to stay in and watch tv.  All the other kids were playing in the street so he wanted this privilege as well.  He had a blast.  Enjoyed seeing all the kids dressed up.   We though a few times he may get scared, but he didn't.

Before we knew it the leaves were off the tree and it was Christmas.  Christmas sneaks up on me like that EVERY year.  My favorite Holiday.  I love everything about it.  I thought it would be the perfect time to tell B what Christmas was, and about traditions, and all the things that made December the best month.  Yeah, he was 15 months old for Christmas.  He retained 3 things.  Scream when the guy in the red suit is near, rip paper and neglect the contents, and Cry, for some reason, when the carols come on.  We think that it sounded like music we would use to knock him out for bed, but really don't know why.  Then my favorite part of Christmas is the decorating.  I have always done some elaborate Christmas trees.  Boy was I in for it that year.  We bought plastic balls thinking that would be the only change needed.  Well the entire bottom half couldn't have anything on it.  B decided those were toys designed specifically to be thrown.  I lost some of my favorite hand painted ornaments that year.  But ornaments can be replaced and it was still an awesome Christmas.  Santa visited, and I had dreamed my whole life of our first Santa visit.  It was magical until he couldn't have cared less about all the boxes that weren't there before.

Winter brought the fun white stuff.  Mommy hates it, always has and always will.  But there is something about it that makes you want to throw your kids into the cold and "have fun" for a little while at least.  We had some good snow fall that year too.  Once it was so deep that he could barely walk in it.  I held onto his little hood so he wouldn't keep falling.  He kept looking at me like I was what was holding him back.  Silly boy.

After finally thawing out he discovered he enjoyed something more than snow.  Melted snow.  We are a water family.  I enjoy swimming and am lucky my husband does as well.  The kids would have been forced to love it.  We went to a beach when he 8months old, but I was too scared to get him in the water much.  June of 2010 we traveled to Myrtle Beach, SC.  I had never been, but we had made a rash decision that we wanted to move there.  I even had an interview with the hospital there.  We decided to go for a weekend and look at houses to get an idea, and hopefully find a place.  The drive was done mostly at night, my husbands favorite time to drive, for whatever reason.  In the mountains somewhere in Tennessee, we were halted by a screaming little man.  He had always had ear problems from improper drainage and allergies, and the altitude changes were making them worse.  We stopped and tried for several hours to consloe him, and then decided it best to keep going.
When we got there we were scheduled to meet with some real estate agents.  A couple, about 30 or so, who had just married.  They thought it was sweet to be showing a young couple around town, until we got in their car.  Brody screamed the entire day.  In retrospect we should have taken that day to rest and met them the next, but you live and learn.  Inside the houses I would put him down and walk around while he lay in the floor yelling screaming and completely inconsolable.  It was crazy awful.  We saw 6 houses with them and then decided we hadn't seen anything that we were extremely excited about, but we would take the night to think it over and possibly drive by some places on our own and meet with them the next day.  To our hilarity B stopped the screaming as soon as we were back into our own car, and crashed hard as soon as we got to the hotel room.  To this day I wonder how he managed to cry all day.  We did find a house we were rather interested in the next day, and returned to KY excited about our impending move.  We were scheduled to leave for a vacation to Yosemite with Greg's family and would move shortly after we returned.  But the job didn't want to happen, the house didn't happen.  So we just stayed put for better opportunities.

After Yosemite we had B evaluated for the first time for speech issues.  It was by the states Early Intervention program.  You filled out a questionnaire about how well your kid did this or that and they tell you if therapy or further evaluation would help.  He was 21 months old.  They tested his hearing, perfect, and the evaluation was that he was perfect in every way.  Well DUH!

Also after our Yosemite trip, Greg and i decided it was time to give him a gift no one ever asks for.  A sibling.  We started trying immediately.  And just like with B, were pregnant immediately.

The older he got the more challenging.  But also more fun.  He had definitely developed a personality, and a sense of humor that he had lacked the previous year, =).  It was weird and fun, and a little sad, to look back at pictures of "this time last year" to see how much he had changed.  

Growing up Brody: Year One

First babies are a definite learning experience.  You are learning, the baby is learning, grandparents are even learning a new role.  It was awesome to bring little man home from the hospital.  Kind of an awe moment between me and the hubs, like "Oh, they let us keep him".
With inexperience comes lots of fun stories.  Like the, two times, I fed him so much that he covered everything in the room exorcist style.  Or the time that I called my husband at work because our two week old hated me.  Okay those are the bad, albeit not the worst ones.

Truth is I don't really like baby times.  I respect them, and even cherish them after the fact, but I would not say like them.  You bring home from the hospital a crying, pooping, spewing, eating blob.  No personality or sense of humor.  They are just little mooches, who, as a first timer, you try to teach stuff that they don't yet have the ability to learn.  But it occupies the time until --BAM--, four months old.  I don't know what happens between 3.99 months old a 4 months, but I like it.  Suddenly my boobs weren't the only thing interesting about me.  Suddenly mom and dad are the funniest people on earth with the best singing voices.  I am wondering at what point they stop thinking this.  Although now, if mommy sings she gets a hand over her mouth.

He also began to get teeth.  Not one at a time, but ten at a time.  At least that is what it felt like with the accompanying screams and sleepless nights.  By his first birthday he had a mouthful.  I have friends whose kids don't have one by then, but the only thing he had left was molars.

While B never did the traditional, up on hands and knees, crawling, he was faster than Secretariat with his army crawl.  We had joked then, and now fully believe it, that he did so so he could hold stuff and travel.  And at 8 months old he began pulling himself up.  As if that wasn't scary enough, he added steps.  What is known as cruising.  More like giving mommy heart attacks when falling, but we will stick to cruising.  Then at 10 months, it was over.  He had acquired independence with his very first steps.  The look on his face was priceless.  Like "Wow, I knew i could do that and I did it."  And boy did he never stop.

The neatest thing to me is when kids learn to talk.  Little parrots.  We only got this to an extent with him.  He always did meet the milestones set for drs for their checklists.  So nothing was ever brought up about it, other than our questions about it, which were always immediately shushed.  A whole other story indeed.

4 days before birthday number one, he decided to reach a milestone I didn't get to until I was 18 years old.  First set of stitches.  Could have done without this one for sure.  He turned running around a leather ottoman into a trip to the ER.  Another first, but not last, for him.  Mommy couldn't cry enough, but he had a good ol' time.  Made for some great pictures at his party.

The first birthday party...  AWESOME!!!  Could not have been better.  Well...  We had a Mickey Mouse theme, the decorations were amazing, the turn out amazing, the food amazing.  But when it came time to get the all time most awesome pics, smash cake pics, he did not perform.  We had to take the cake and smash it into his face.  When it came time to open the Mt Everest of presents, he did not perform.  My younger cousins were more than happy to help him in this department though.

Our first year.  Throughout the pregnancy I could have never imagined it going so quickly, and still couldn't have imagined it ever getting there at all.  The best part of the first year, and the several that have followed, is their amazement.  They are learning anything and everything.  They are seeing the world for the first time.  It is truly amazing watching them learn everything.  From a light switch, to a new toy.  That dogs are "so soft", and splashing in the water was the most fun they could ever imagine enjoying.  I wish I enjoyed anything as much as he did when he was that size.  Now that he is a big 3 year old, the amazement's are getting a little fewer and fewer.  We have to try and find new and exciting things to keep him entertained.  But the really exciting thing is, there is always something that he doesn't know yet.  And something that will bring a smile to his face. 

Breastfeeding: The Dos and Don'ts

With the birth of my son came breastfeeding woes and joys.  I had access to a lactation consultant from the hospital, and no friends or family with experience to give advice.

The first 2 weeks, were HELL.  It hurt, you're tired, you're emotional, you're hormonal, you're hormonal, you're hormonal.

I can't stress the hormonal hell enough.  I love to be in some sort of control of me, and never in my life have I had less control as when I was recovering from labor and delivery.  In a sense it is like recovering from surgery.  Especially if your large headed child leaves a gaping hole, TMI probably.  While recovering from this surgery though you get no sleep, have to entertain visitors, and act like your vagina hasn't been ripped from one end to the other every time you get up or down, move, sneeze, or laugh.  Your uncle and father-in-law are the last people you want to see when you have stitches in your nether regions.

The breast feeding started out, horribly.  He didn't want to latch, my milk decided to take its time coming in, and I was hormonal.  I tried and tried and tried.  The lactation consultant insulted the type and brand of pump I had chosen, which in my state was a personal attack.  She said if I was serious I needed a better pump.  Turned out to be true, very true, but still.

My son was Jaundiced, so I was told to supplement since he wouldn't latch.  If you want to breast feed do not do this.  Some kids are fine to do this, but we never really recovered from supplementing.  Turns out also that if they aren't extremely jaundice you don't need to.  Says the pediatrician 2 weeks later.  In the hospital we found out, through no help of the postpartum nurses, that my little man was lactose intolerant.  The formula they were giving him was causing him to vomit everything back up.

My partially inverted nipples cracked and bled from improper latch, but I was determined to keep going.  I even fed him through it which resulted once in bloody projectile vomit, a freaked new hormonal mommy, and my husband calming down the both of us.  My entire 6 weeks at home with my little man,I never touched the pump one time to use it.  This resulted in hugely engorged breasts on several occasions, the worst being when the milk decided it was time to stop messing with me.  This also resulted in having no stash        stockpiled for use when I was away.  More formula was used.  I worked in a very busy Neurology and Rheumatology office, and I never pumped on time.  That may have been strike 3 or 4, it was over at 4 1/2 months.

If I had used the Lactation Consultant, I would have been told to drink more water, make sure I pump every 3 hours, and that it was fine to feel like I was doing a bad job because EVERYONE feels like that.  I can't tell you how many times in the first 2 weeks, or the first night alone with he and I, that I cried and said he hates me.  Your baby doesn't hate you.  He barely knows you at this point.  And maybe 20years from now he will not like you very much, but a 2 week old baby does not hate you.

The decision to stop nursing him, at 4 1/2 months, was one of the hardest things I have ever had to decide.  I wanted so badly to go to one year.  I felt like I failed him and myself.  I felt stress from everywhere.  When I had finally decided to stop, my relationship with my little prince improved so much.

This is in no way anti-breastfeeding, I love breast feeding if you can you should do it.

That being said, formula will not kill your baby, or your womanhood.  

Brody From the Beginning

2005 we were married.  We knew we wanted kids, but knew right away would have been a bad idea.  I was 20 ad Greg only 19, so we waited.  Every once in a while I would decide it was time, or he would decide.  But never at the same time.  Until December of 2007.  We had just visited family, and one pregnant cousin was going through baby clothes another cousin had given her.  All those little things.  Pink things.  Oh my, the baby bug had bitten us both.

Now when I do anything, it is all the way.  Not half assed at all.  You would have thought we had been trying and failing for years with the amount of research I had done.  We did the deed, and put my hips up on a pillow afterwards, we looked at my fertile times, all of the fun stuff that everyone can try to increase their chances we did it.

On January 16 2008 we attended dinner at my mother-in-laws house where her parents were as well.  It was fun, but I felt crappy.  I knew in my head old Aunt Flo was on her way.  On our way home I told Greg this month was definitely not the moth and she should be here any day.  To try and cheer me up, or he really believed I was more emotional like he claims, we stopped and bought one of those sticks from wal-mart. One of those powerful sticks that holds with it everything in your future, hopes and dreams, for 2 minutes.  The dreaded 2 minute wait.  When you pee on it, you either want it to be positive or negative.  There is no, oh well whatever it is is what it is.  If you are scared you are pregnant, you spend the minutes sick to your stomach hoping that the line that travels from one side of the test to the other just keeps going.  If you desperately want to be pregnant then you spend the 2 minutes sick to your stomach wanting a reason to be so sick.

Ours was positive.  And so the planning begun.  What names, what did the nursery need to be done in, what would we do if this happened or if that happened.  I was, of course, 4 weeks pregnant, only 36 weeks to go.  I had an appointment already with my OBGYN for a follow up sono on a cyst that they had noticed the previous year when I had a bunch of tummy troubles.  I decided that when I saw the dr for that I would tell him I was having a baby as well.  As if he wouldn't have seen for himself.

The day for the sono came, it was at the hospital.  I went in and they did the invasive thing.  And I left.  Later I went to my appointment for my dr.  He asked if I knew we were expecting.  I did, and then he broke my heart.  He said well there was no fetal pole.  At this time, that meant very little to me. He explained what would come of the rest of the weekend and that Next Tuesday, it was Thursday, we would have another sono to tell what would be our next step.  He said to expect a miscarriage because there should be something to see at this point.

Heartbroken doesn't begin to explain how I felt.  I couldn't grasp why these things happen.  I went in for blood work, and a repeat blood work.  It all came back inconclusive.  The numbers went up but not very much.  I decided that I wasn't going to cry anymore.  I didn't know anything.

Tuesday came around and we went in for the sono.  Within minutes I was in tears.  There was my beautiful baby boy, heart beating away.  Measured right on with the dates of the pregnancy.  All was well.

The rest of the pregnancy went rather textbook.  I had heart problems, a little skip here and there, and swelling, calves the size of...well something large, and I slept ALL the time.

At 39 weeks, with a total of 54 pounds gained, I started having contractions.  I was admitted to the hospital on 09/20/2008 at 3p.m. and, with a very nervous daddy, welcomed Brody William Crews to the world.  He was perfect, but we knew he would be.

The last 3 1/2 years have been filled with joy unbeknownst to people without kids.  It has been full of some trials as well, but kids and motherhood are full of those things.



  

Hello there...

I have decided to start a blog.  While I am definitely not a professional writer, I would like to think I have some good ideas and opinions even if they do come out in a jumbled mess of run-on sentences.
I think the biggest reason for this is so that my kids can look back one day and see where they came from.  Or, let's be honest they will probably never read this, for me to look back one day and see what senility, and sleep deprivation, has stolen from me.

I will start with a little about me.

I am 26 years old, for a few more months.  A mommy to two wonderful kiddos, Brody(3) and Caitlyn(8months).  I married my high school sweetheart, Greg, and we live a very great, while meager, life together.
I was born and raised in Kentucky, the best state in the union, I mean uh... Just kidding.  At the end of 2010 our lives were changed forever when we lost a baby and moved to the Oklahoma panhandle all in a week.  Caitlyn is our rainbow, but more on that later.  We moved from the panhandle back to civilization right before Christmas in 2011.  Moved in December 23, cut it a little close for me, but it worked.

I am for now a stay at home mom, but not by choice.  I love my kids to pieces, but I need some adult interaction.  I was working in the medical field and will be starting back to school in July pending an interview to be accepted TOMORROW.  I enjoy working in the medical field, but it has definitely made me crazy, but a good crazy.

I also love DIY crafts.  Any and all.  If I can't pin it I don't bother looking at it on the internet.  One of my favorites has been painting.  And I use to enjoy quilting, and am trying my best to find time for sewing these days.

I am a breast feeding nut.  Some would say lactivist, but I hate the word.  I do intend on finishing school with my BSN and continuing to get my IBLCE certification.  That means I want to be a lactation consultant.  I think one class is devoted to remembering the initials that will forever follow your name if you should be lucky enough to pass the test.  I unsuccessfully nursed my son to 4 1/2 months, with some supplementing.  And have managed to feed 2 babies this go around.  My 8 month old daughter, and a little girl, now 5 months, through donating my breast milk.  I know that that may sound gross to some, but I wish I knew about it when I was having problems with my big boy.  Even with all the "controversy" surrounding this personal choice, I am so proud to be a nursing mother.  I am so proud of me, the way my big boy is of himself when he uses the potty.

I will tell more of myself throughout the posts, or I may have forgotten plenty already.  I will start the next several posts by going back in time.  I want to share what I can about my past, which means I should have done this a long time ago.  I will also try to post about some current topics, maybe some I could go back and use someday when I have my very own office with mommies needing advice on supply issues and what not.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!