A Random Act of Kindness

My third boy is a lot like my first two in a few ways.

One of those ways is that they don’t like the car seat. They are ok as long as we’re driving, but as soon as we stop, the crying starts.

Little E is no exception. When we go to the big city, he is happy or sleeping while we are driving, but as soon as we hit a stop light, he wails. We go, he stops. We stop, he goes.

It’s funny really. Well, it’s funny the way that Olli keeps telling me to turn the baby off. That at least makes me laugh.

And it keeps me from talking on my cell phone while driving (I mean, c’mon…traffic, kids AND a crying baby? There is only so much multi-tasking that a woman can do).

So when I took Mr. B to P.E. in Sahuarita on Wednesday, it was no surprise to hear him cry as soon as I stopped to get gas after dropping the boys off. I was kind of hoping that he would just chill until I got back to the park, but no such luck.

To complicate the whole process, there were plenty of people waiting to get gas, but I was “lucky” enough to get right behind a car that had just started pumping…very slowly.

I could hear Baby E start to wind up as soon as I came to a stop. I turned the music up (which sometimes helps) but he kept squirming and grunting and finally, out came the wail.

I rolled down the windows (it was a beautiful morning) so I wouldn’t be trapped with the sound. I wanted to get out of the car and get him, but then what would I do when I needed to pull forward to the pump? So he wailed, and I waited.

I could see a few people staring at me as I waited, but there was nothing I could do.

After pumping his gas, walking around to the other side of his car, getting out a notebook, meandering back to the pump, going back to get a pen, then back to the pump, writing down the gallons, then looking in the driver’s side to see the mileage, and crawling walking back to the other side to replace his notebook, the man ahead of me got in his car to leave.

Meanwhile, my poor little guy had really worked himself into quite a fit in the back seat. I pulled up to the pump, swiped my cards and put the nozzle in the car as fast as I could. Then I opened the back door to try to quite my little one down. He was having NONE of it and proceeded to scream with all the lung power he could muster.

I realized that he needed some lovin’ and I got him out of the seat hold him close to me. I spent the next few minutes trying to calm him down, which eventually worked, but then the pump clicked off behind me. I knew that this little guy was gonna start up again because I hadn’t been able to get him to completely stop crying. This was exactly what I was looking forward too on a Wednesday morning that had already started out in crazy town.

On my right, a woman came around the back of my vehicle and smiled at me.

“I heard your baby crying and thought that I would help.” she said.

She took the nozzle outa my car, put it back, got the receipt and handed it too me, put the cap back on and closed the cover.

“I know it’s hard to have a little one and get things done.” she said. “And it looks like you have more than one to deal with!” she continued, looking in at the car and booster seats in the back row.

“Um, yeah.” I eloquently replied, “He’s my third boy. You’d think I’d have a handle on things like this by now.”

“Oh, you’ll get there, honey” she said, “Just in time to enjoy your grandkids!”

She laughed and I smiled and she went back to her car and drove away.

By then, Baby E had calmed down and I buckled him back in his seat and drove to the park with silence the whole way.

Though it wasn’t a great and heroic deed, it was a kind and thoughtful act of service that helped me in that moment and shifted the way I dealt with my whole day.

And I am so, so, thankful!!

 

 

Where I have been, and Sacral dimples (I promise there’s a correlation)

I already wrote this post once. And the new WordPress didn’t auto-save it and it’s gone now.

Craptastic.

I think it went something like this:

I have been outa the loop.

I had a baby.

And while I recovered quickly and am doing well, I have learned that with three children, (ahem, three BOYS), I have to make some choices.

Like choosing to have cereal for dinner instead of pancakes. What? Daddy was at work, why not?

Or choosing to sniff a shirt to see if it’s really dirty rather than just throwing a worn shirt into the hamper at the end of the day.

And choosing to sleep (something I need, need, NEED) instead of choosing to blog (which I love, love, LOVE).

But every evening, and by every I mean every single evening, I lay in bed and write a little blog in my head about my day or my kiddos or my life. It’s usually funny or witty or has some spiritual meaning to it. Then I drift off to sleep and drool on my pillow until my Little Man wakes me up in two hours to get fed…again.

The newest news actually concerns that Little Man, my Baby Boy who seems to have a hoop or two left to jump through before he gets the all-clear to go on with his little life.

Our pediatrician noticed that Baby Boy (BB) had a sacral dimple on his back when we went for our 2 week appointment. He said “spina bifida” and ordered an ultrasound. BB’s spine was fine, but it the doctors noted that it looked like he had a tethered spine and since the ultrasound was only the first step in the diagnostic process, we need to follow-up with further testing.

Which means my Little Man has to have an MRI. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t bother me. But how does and infant stay still enough to get a good read-out on an MRI? They must be sedated.

THAT’S what freaks me out.

It worries me in an, “My-6-week-old-will-have-to-have-an-iv-to-be -sedated-and-will-be-in-pain-so-he-might-not-eat-so-he-could-get-dehydrated-so-he’ll-have-to-keep-the-iv-in-forever-and-NEVER-come-home” kind of way.

So if his spine is tethered, he will have to have a minor surgery to correct it before he gets older and any pressure is put on his spine.  If it isn’t tethered, it’s simply something we’ll have to monitor as he grows and hopefully he will simply outgrow it.

I am optimistic and know that he will be in the best hands and I’m sure everything will turn out fine, but I can’t help but be worried for my precious little guy.

But, what is a post without a photo or two to share, right?

What Mr. B does with ALL his free time!

 

Ollie's "Cute" Face

 

I can't NOT post a bath photo!

Birth Story #3 (not your average birth story)

It all started on a normal Tuesday afternoon. The Braxton Hicks contractions I was feeling turned into something…well…a little bit more. Kinda achy and crampy plus pressure. It was totally manageable and I was able to talk while having them, so I was NOT worried, even in the little-est tiny bit. Plus, they were short in duration, only 15 seconds, (with the exception of the one that lasted about 20 seconds while I was doing dishes), so that made me feel better also. I had talked to Callie (my bestie up the street) and she said that she had felt the same thing and had gone into labor and delivered her son the next day. We tentatively planned that if I DID go into labor in the middle of the night, she would drive down and stay on the sofa with my boys until my dad arrived to take over.

Then I called my folks and let them know that I might have the baby the next day, and that they might want to let their employees know about the change in plans.

After that, I made plans to go visiting teaching the next morning with Lisa, called my hubby to ask him if he would mind not working overtime and coming home early…just in case.

When he got home, we played a few games of Scramble with Friends, chatted a little about what the next day might bring, and went to bed around 11:30pm.

I woke up to some strong contractions and laid in bed thinking, “How long was that one? I think it might have been closer to thirty seconds.” then, “Wait a second, that one was FOR SURE longer than twenty seconds. Might as well get up and use the restroom since I’m awake and I can time the next one when it hits.”

I stood up and felt the baby kick HARD, and I am sure that that big kick is what broke my water.

I yelled to my husband to wake up (it was about 12:30 am) and that we needed to make a few phone calls and head to the birth center. I called my dad, Callie, and my midwife in the next 5 minutes, and watched my husband scurry around and get all our things together as I got dressed and got in the car.

As we drove down the road, I started paying close attention to how strong and close together my contractions were, and in the beginning, they were about 5 minutes apart and 30-40 seconds long. Gila Man and I chatted and wondered what the morning would bring in between each one.

As we neared the Border Patrol checkpoint, however, I realized that we were still FAR from The Big City and my contractions were getting closer together. There was a semi-truck and an SUV in the ONE LANE open at the checkpoint, and the agent in that lane was not letting us through very quickly. Finally, Gila Man yelled, “My wife is in LABOR! She’s having a baby!” and the agent waved us through.

THIS is where the story gets interesting, because I looked at the clock on the dash, felt the next contraction come, and as it passed, I said, “Um, Gila Man? My last contraction was like, maybe a minute ago, and I can feel another one coming on already. That’s a little scary. I think I should call the midwife.”

That’s right my friends. I was in the middle of nowhere, speeding down the freeway and having contractions that were 45-60 long that were ONE MINUTE APART. My husband’s foot pretty much turned into a brick right at that moment. I had my midwife on the phone, and she said that babies come when they come, and that we might have to pull over on the side of the road and dial 911.

As a mom, (heck, as a human being) I can’t describe the feeling of sitting in my vehicle and looking out the windows of my vehicle realizing that my baby boy was on his way here and I was seeing….nothing. Nothing but the headlights on the pavement and darkness out the windows. Wait, the feeling was…FEAR. And desperation. Mixed with a little bit of self-pity. And some more FEAR.

Now, I recently read an article about women in labor feeling fear, which raises the adrenaline levels in the body and can actually slow down or even stop labor (something about right after we evolved from apes into humans [blah] and started having babies in caves instead of trees and feeling that if we weren’t safe to have the baby, our fear would keep labor at bay until we found another safe birthing place), but I’ll tell you what…It was not adrenaline that slowed my labor, we became the most prayer-filled vehicle you have EVER seen flying down the road at 1:45 am.

Scooting down the freeway at a pretty good clip, we changed to the next interstate and watched with trepidation as the speed limit changed from 75 to 65…and then we ignored the signs and kept on driving. Maybe that’s why in the next few minutes (me breathing/humming through every contraction) we saw the rear-view mirror light up with the all tooooo familiar scene of red and blue lights.

We were being pulled over.

Oh yes, seriously.

Did I mention my contractions were one minute apart? Because by now they are pretty much one right after the other.

Gila Man quickly pulled over, rolled down his window, put up his hands and yelled out the window, “My wife is having a baby! She’s in LABOR! My wife is having a baby!”

The cop cautiously came around to my side of the vehicle and I rolled down my window to see that it was a female.

“I’m in labor!” I said, pointing to my protruding belly, “I’m having my baby and we’re trying to get to the hospital!”

“Oh!” she said, lighting up my face with her flashlight. As she moved the light down to my belly and heard me groan as another contraction started, her eyes widened and she said again, “Oh! That’s why you were going 80!” and she waved us on our way.

While we didn’t get an escort, we did see other highway patrol cars who didn’t give us a second look, so we’re thinking that she radioed ahead to get us off the hook there too.

Now, I don’t believe in coincidences. I’ve had too many events in my life that have worked out because of one tiny comment here, or one itty bitty change of plans there. Like how I had been traveling to the birth center every week for 4 weeks and had taken a different route every time, but none of them were as fast as the route that my dad and brother had come up with and told me about the night before we left. We never would have made it in time if we had tried to go through downtown. Never.

We did, however, manage to get to the birth center after getting one photo radar flash for speeding and then stopping at and rolling through a red light.

As soon as I got out of the car and stood up, I knew it was go time. We went to the door but it was locked. We buzzed in and were told that the midwife wasn’t there yet. We went in and found our room and whoah. It was for sure go time.

Here’s the quick view:

Started to fill up the tub, got on the birthing ball and started rolling back and forth. Realized I was supposed to have some sort of IV and asked for one, only to learn that it was too late to worry about anything like that, and I promptly, VERY promptly, forgot about it. Got enough water in the tub to get in and relax between contractions. Thought I was going to be in labor for 8 more hours and panicked a little. Midwife said that I was just minutes away from meeting my baby boy. That produced the energy to push his head out. Midwife said to push again, but I could feel that something was stuck. She told me to get out of the tub using her “midwife” voice (like a “mom” voice but a leetle firmer). Tried again to push him out but was stuck. Bit my husbands pants because of the pain. Bit my husband’s leg when I missed his pants. Had to be flipped over and tried to push again when the midwife called for help and said, “We’re out of time.”

I screamed. Like, ska-REAMED. Pretty freakin’ loud.

Baby Boy was born at 2:20am.

He was placed on my chest and I held him close and loved on him. I was in shock because Baby Boy has hair. He got a few puffs of oxygen to help with his purple face. I was told to be careful of his left arm. More labor stuff went on. We all got to lay in bed together and snuggle. I got a snack. Baby had his blood sugar tested. He got a vitamin K shot. We still laid in bed and snuggled. More after labor stuff went on. I’m still in awe over the hair on my baby’s head. Baby was weighed. Nine pounds, 7.5 ounces. NINE. POUNDS. (and no drugs, which meant I felt amazing afterwards! I’m tellin’ ya what I heard from my friend Raysha, “More women would do it if they gave it a try”)

Midwife Sandy came and explained what had happened during birth. Baby Boy had shoulder dystocia, which, if you didn’t follow the link, is “one of the most frightening emergencies in the delivery room”. I didn’t know that at the time. I was all, “Oh, he got stuck? Ok. You got him out? Great. Glad we’re all alive and breathing!”

Because Baby Boy was stuck, Sandy had to do something to get him unstuck or risk brain damage or death, so she had to remove the posterior arm in order to relieve the impacted shoulder and allow for baby boy to slide out. BUT, when she pulled his little arm through, it broke his humorous, which meant we had to be admitted to the hospital to take x-rays. It was a really big deal, but I didn’t know it at the time; my midwife was calm and cool and collected and was so amazing through the whole thing. It was so hard to go from that sweet, peaceful, softly lit environment, cuddling in the comfy bed with my new sweet baby boy and my husband, to the glaring white lights and VERY small and uncomfortable bed in the hospital. (oh, but the ambulance ride was fun!)

We got admitted around 4:30am on Wednesday morning, my baby was taken to a warmer (what the heck? I can warm him, thankyouverymuch), weighed again, pricked again, and the two nurses went behind the curtain to whisper to each other. They came back and listened to his heart again and looked at each other for a moment, then turned to me and told me that Baby Boy had a heat murmur.

The pediatric doc on duty came down to examine Baby Boy’s arm and said he didn’t think it was broken. The midwife came in and explained what had happened and that she had heard a distinct “pop” as she got his arm out. The ped. Dr. decided to order x-rays. We got to the nursery around 6am, declined the Hep B shot, and dropped off Baby Boy to get his x-rays.

Five hours, FIVE HOURS later, we got our Baby Boy back and the x-rays confirmed that yes he did have a fractured humorous. It looks a little like this:

Instead of putting his arm through the clothes he was wearing, he had to have his arm inside his shirt, but it still moved around a lot, which made nursing and changing him a HUGE chore. There was a lot of crying, and not just by Baby Boy. The pediatrician on call would not release Baby Boy to a nurse practitioner, so we had to stay a full 48 hours for observation. Gila Man was terribly sick through this whole ordeal and drank DayQuil during the day and NyQuil at night to keep from hacking and coughing and sniffing every 5 seconds. My boys had it too, but they were with Nana and Papa, soooooo….I didn’t have to worry about them toooo much.

Friday, before we left, we got to see the pediatric orthopedic doctor who showed us how to wrap him up to keep his arm immobilized. Turns out that Baby Boy has what is refered to as a “green stick break” and it snapped back into place with no clean break of the bone – that’s good news!! Hopefully it can heal without the aid of pins or a cast (we hope we hope we hope!!) Also, his heart murmur went away on Friday, so that was more good news!

This is what happens every time we take off his diaper, or move his shirt, or pick him up wrong, or try to burp him, or try to nurse him. It’s the most fun a newborn ever had!! Oh wait, it’s the most fun that Momma ever had! Wait…wrong again.

But he’s here and he’s healthy (mostly) and there is a really, really cool part.

All of the birth stuff happened on Leap Day. LEAP DAY! Isn’t that that coolest birthday EVER?!? Well, I think it is. My little Leapling.

Here.

Safe.

Home.

We are truly, truly, blessed.

 

 

He’s HERE!!!

Yes, I know.

He was here like, 5 days ago.

Oh well. It’s been a rough coupla days, so I’ll just post some photos and work on the birth story.

It’s a rather long one, though thoroughly awesome in it’s length and totally worth the wait.

I will say that our baby boy was born at 2:20 am on LEAP DAY (how amazing is that?!?!?) weighing in at 9 pounds, 7.5 ounces and 21 inches long.

Yeah, he’s a big ‘un.

Little known fact: babies born on Leap Day are called ”Leaplings”. Though with a third monkey boy in the house, I like to call him my “Leaping Lemur”. Ha!

And he has a broken arm (so so so sad, i know), details will be forthcoming.

Here are the photos of our NOT bald baby boy #3:

Quick Quotes of The Day:

From Mr. B:
I let my boys bring their scooters when we went to visit my parents in their little retirement town, but I made sure to lay down a few rules about riding around others (we aren’t used to people being around when we ride!).
“Ring your bells so people know you are coming, make sure to stop and let the adults always go first, and when you park your scooters, be sure to do it on the side of the buildings so they aren’t in the way so nobody will trip on them.”

As I watched my boys go down the boardwalk toward their beloved Papa’s post office, little Oli just couldn’t be bothered to put his scooter to the side and ended up leaving it on the sidewalk.

Mr. B shouted from the other end of the boardwalk for the whole town to hear, “Oli! Don’t leave your scooter there! The OLD PEOPLE will trip on it!!”

From Oli:
That evening, my dad was outside with Oli watching the two newest puppies wrestle in the front yard, and they started biting each other’s tails.

“Dey whesoling (wrestling)?” Oli asked.

“Yep.” said my dad. “They are biting each others tails. Do YOU have a tail?”

“Nope.” he replied, matter-of-factly. “Only a bum. And a penis.”

And that was that was the end of that!!!

Thursday Thirteen – A New Momma’s List

*I have been running around trying not to fall behind all my “Momma” duties, but I really, really, REALLY wanted to blog. There are plenty of ideas and kid quotes and things to blog about, but finding the time to sit down and get them outa my head is proving a little too much for me right now. I got the chance to sit down today and I found this lost post in my drafts folder, and I couldn’t help but smile (and then freak out a little) because the next baby boy is gonna be here in the blink of an eye!!!*

How could I have forgotten about,

1. The lack of sleep? I can’t believe I whined about getting up to pee every 4 hours.

2. The crying? I forgot about how shrill it can sound at 2 am.

3. The hormones? And the night sweats? And add the night shakes to this round.

4. The laundry? I have a load a day now. At least.

5. The cuddliness? I have a nearly 5-year-old boy who is NOT into cuddling, so this is very, VERY nice.

6. The adorable, so so so so adorable little boy clothes?

7. The “spit-up”? It’s e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e.

8. That umbilical cord? It’s a DANG good thing that it falls off eventually. I’m so scared I’m gonna rip it off his teeny belly!

9. Sweet bath time with no splashing or arguing? Oh, but then there’s more crying. Dang it.

10. The lack of showers? Probably the grossest thing about having a new baby. Yep, there are a LOT of gross things about having a baby, but me not getting a regular shower is #1 on my list.

11. The heartburn is gone, the heartburn is gone, la-TEE-da!

12. The smell of that new baby? I just can’t get enough.

13. The wonder? How on earth people can believe in the theory of evolution is beyond me.

Oli and Daddy

Because One Party is NEVER Enough!

Having a baby shower in The Big City turned out to be hard for my friends Out Here to attend, so my neighbor and “Mormon” friend threw me a great shower down here!!!

This woman and her mom always throw the best parties, and this one was NO exception.

When asked, “What’s up with all the monkeys??”

All I could say was that I was giving birth to my third boy, so my home was about to become a monkey house!!!

Here’s a peek at this fiesta fabulosa:

This guy greeted us at the door!

 

Here's our lovely hostess, raffling off the monkeys.

 

The view before the guests arrived. Seriously, this woman has a GIFT for decorating!

I failed to get a photo of the food. There were plenty of beans, meat, and buns, PLUS Callie’s FAMOUS baked goods. She brought fresh (like just out of the oven fresh) cinnamon rolls and the cutest little cupcakes all decorated up with homemade frosting in brown and blue. I have to say that I like that stuff a little, even if I’m not supposed to have chocolate.

Because one can NEVER have toooo many diapers! (also, I am glad that there was only ONE bow on all those packages or I might have looked silly)

 

Camo for him to blend in...maybe his brothers won't bug him as much if they can't see him!

 

This is an AMAZING gift!!!!!

 

I got LOTS more diapers and wipes, which we obviously needed, plus I got some super cute outfits, picture frames, and toys.

But by far the most amazing baby gift I have ever received is this scrapbook FILLED with pre-scrapped pages that I only have to put the photos in! My fantastic scrapping friends started at birth with a sweet quote about little mouths and feet, and scrapped complete pages throughout the whole year, month by month! I might have cried a little when I opened it, and I also might have (just maybe) toted it around with me for the next few days to show everyone I ran into how great this little guys baby book is going to be.

It was such a great night filled with friends and food and fun, I just don’t know what I did to get so dang lucky with all the love I felt from all my friends that night!!

If You Give A Kid…

If you find an amazing deal on artist’s chalk at the craft store and you proudly tote it home and show your 7-year-old how to add boldness to colors on the paper by adding a drop or two of water to the chalk, you might come back after using the restroom to discover

Happy Tar Face

 

Goof Ball Face

 

that it colors on little boys faces just as well as it does on paper.

But it doesn’t wash off as easily.

Shower…

As is Diaper Shower!

My aunt threw me a diaper shower last week in The Big City with a great mixture of friends and family, plus enough food to feed the entire block. There is something fun about a bunch of girls getting together, chatting, and eating that is just so fun! My friend Erin from Out Here dominated all the baby games, it was crazy. I got like 3 right. And I even cheated to look to see what the answers were before we started!!

I have to admit that I feel guilty about having a shower for when I’m having another boy, but clothes DO wear out after two boys, and what baby doesn’t use diapers?? 

More photos would have been taken on my camera, but as soon as my aunt realized that she was using MY camera, she promptly put it down and grabbed HERS!! Which works out fine because I always have a hard time choosing which photos to post anyway.

Trying to figure out what a Bumbo is.

Opening Gifts

My Cousin Jaime, she got me the Bumbo!

Jenn & Leslie, my old college room-mates!

Leslie and her baby, zonked!

Diaper Cake made by Grammie and Aunt DD

 

Friends + Family + Food =  A Great Day!!!

 

Cello for 8

I am due this month.

THIS MONTH.

I am going to have a baby this month.

This certainly has snuck up on me, and I find myself looking for places to put the changing table, cradle, and all these adorable little baby clothes and diapers that seem to be filling up our already small casa.

I’m also going about this birth in a different way, something that I really want to share, but I dont’ want to offend, so I’m still working on it.

Anyways, I’ve been looking at a lot of music in the past week and I stumbled across this.

And I love it.

Like, LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE it.

And I love the smile on his face as he plays. It’s pretty fun to watch.

Music is amazing and brings a feeling of love and respect and peace with it that I cannot for the life of me explain. I have watched this clip and listened to it countless times, and it doesn’t get old. My boys think it’s a cool video too and will both (try to) sit on my lap and watch it over and over again with me (one of the few times during the day that they both sit still at the same time. amazing).

“Cello for Eight” is on my list of music to listen to during labor. I hope by then I’m not sick of it.

If I am, I’ll just watch some more of her:

She’s pretty awesome too.