Just Like Riding a Bike...Right?

Although yesterday was Friday the 13th, a full moon AND the weather was crap, it was a great day. Our newest little addition to the family was coming home. He spent 17 days in the NICU. Was that all it really was? Hmmm, seemed longer. 

After Ryan was born, I found that I was constantly doubting myself and my abilities to once again care for someone so tiny. It's been 5 years!! I was constantly told, "it's like riding a bike, it all comes back to you". But would it really? I spent that 17 days only getting to feed him twice a day. I got told when to check his temperature and change his diaper. Reporting on the contents of his diaper and changing his shirt. I had to work around wires and when I held him, he was still connected to those wires. 

I thought I knew what to expect, after all I had done this before. Sleep him on his back, no loose bedding, toys or stuffed animals in the crib. Always leave them secure in the carseat while the car is in motion, duh. Swaddle with his arms out. Wait...now it's arms out? What else was I forgetting, what else had they changed. 

Once our discharge was complete, we were on our way. No more of some one else's rules, no more monitors and no more wires. PANIC! Those wires were my security, they let me know that he was okay. As the nurse peeled the leads off, well, let's just say, I was on the verge of tears. But again, it was just like riding a bike, right?

Ryan's First Car Ride

In the hospital, I rarely heard him cry. He was always sleeping so soundly. Alright, maybe this wasn't so bad. Then we came home and I was on my own. ON. MY. OWN. I thought I knew what I was doing, until I changed his first diaper in the middle of the night. I had to heat the bottle while he was crying, get the cloth ready to clean him, vaseline on the gauze, change his clothes. He was squirmy, so so squirmy and it was pretty dark. I tried to keep Ryan calm and quiet. I kept telling him that it was our first night and we would get it, we'd understand each other. Then we woke the whole house up. Brandon started calling for me, my husband woke up to console him. Cause I, of course, can't be in 2 places at once. Another thought that never crossed my mind, what happens when they both need me at the exact same time?

I woke up this morning exhausted. If I slept 2 hours combined, well, I'm giving myself a lot of credit. I kept looking into his bassinet making sure he was okay. I was cleaning spit-up from his mouth and clothes. I felt just a little defeated. 

Then we went through another feeding this morning and it was better. It was just like the hospital...calm, peaceful, controlled. Then another feeding, less crying going through the changing process. And I felt better in control. 

Would I agree that it is just like riding a bike? Probably not. Let's face it, the last time I hopped on this bike, the ride was missing passengers and the bike was much younger. But I do think things come back to you. You get comfortable again being a mom and having more people to care for. Would I trade it, nope, but I have learned the cliche phrase to NEVER tell my friends having baby #2. Cause the second time isn't anything like the first. 

Throwback Thursday - June, 5, 2014

To sit and write a post this week for Throwback Thursday is a tough one. So much has happened since my last post. It is nearly impossible to decide exactly what to write about, so this week is a throwback for the last couple of weeks.

Pregnancy News

On May 13th, I went in for a growth scan. Basically, the sono tech measures pockets of amniotic fluid  and takes measurements on the femur, stomach and head to assess how well the baby is growing. After the tech took the baby's stats, she determined that we was a little on the small side, weighting in around 2 pounds 14 ounces. This sent me on a trip down to the perinatologist for a doppler scan. The doppler scan measures the blood flow through the baby's organs, the placenta and the umbilical cord. Although the tech there measured him around 3 pounds, he was still small. He should have been measuring closer to 3 1/2 pounds. The reason for his growth restriction was that he wasn't receiving the nutrients he needed through the cord because it was restricted. The exact same problem I had with my first pregnancy. My OB and perinatologist decided I would have a scan to check the fluid and a Non-Stress Test every 3-4 days to monitor the baby's health. The test itself was stressful because I knew what they were looking for, I had been down this road before, almost exactly 5 years ago. They wanted to see if his heart rate went up or down during movement. Up is good, down is bad.   I knew what a lowered heart rate meant and during each NST, I prayed I never heard a dip. Any day could be the day and it scared the shit out of me. I was only 31 weeks when they started to monitor me, I delivered my first son at 33 weeks and 1 day gestation. I was quickly approaching that mark. 

I Lost My Dad

On May 16, 2014, I got a call from my mom just after I dropped my son off at school. Dad wasn't breathing and they were taking him to the hospital. She was watching my nephews and was waiting for my brother or sister-in-law to get there. I told her I would head over to the hospital and call her when I knew anything. My cousin had spent the night at my parents house the night before. He heard my father fall and when the dog started howling, he rushed up from downstairs and called 911. I gave the hospital as much information I could while I waited for someone to tell me what was going on. A nurse came out to talk to me and my cousin. I knew it wasn't good that she walked out with a wheelchair for me. She brought us into another room where she explained that they were still working on him and she prepared me for what I was going to see. I tried to stay calm, after all, I was 32 weeks pregnant and put on the "premature birth watch list". She wheeled me into the room where the doctors were trying all they could to bring my dad back. I held his hand and asked him not to leave us, I told him that we needed him. I told him I still needed my daddy. I asked him, I begged him to come back to us. He was our rock and we still needed him. But nothing I said worked. After 29 minutes, the doctor informed me that they did all they could do, but he had been deprived of oxygen too long. They had to stop. I wanted to be one of those people that throw themselves on the table and screamed, to shake sense into the nurses and doctors to keep going, to start CPR myself. But I knew I couldn't. I knew he would never want to live that way. I knew what he could be like if he had been brought back. I couldn't argue. I remember hearing the doctor officially call it. 9:29am on May 16, 2014, my dad died. My life would change, my heart broke. The days that followed were a complete blur. They were filled with arrangements, gathering photos, making videos, ultrasounds and NST. Praying that any pregnancy problems would hold themselves off until at least after Dad's funeral. The NST the morning of the wake was particularly, um, stressful. And of course doing my best to stay calm and rest according to doctor's orders. 

I was going through the motions, but just couldn't believe it was happening. Did I really just lose my dad? My dad died. Words I thought wouldn't have to leave my lips for 20 or more years. He still had so much more to do, another grandchild to see, the rest of his life to spend with his wife, kids and their families. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I never truly considered life without him, I just assumed he would always be there. I still wait for him to call and ask for a hair cut. The pain of losing a parent, is pain I have never felt before. It felt like someone put and oozy to my chest and pulled the trigger. There was a hole. A big huge hole. Little things make me cry; a song on the radio, seeing his truck in the driveway, his funeral card hanging on my dresser mirror. He was an amazing man and we are all going to miss him immensely. But he will remain in my heart forever. 

We Had a Baby!

On May 27, 2014, I went in for my ultrasound and NST. I should have known something was wrong, but I suppose I could have been in denial. The sono tech measured my fluid less that half of what it was a week prior. Not good news. The doctor said to repeat the ultrasound after my NST is complete. So, my mother-in-law and I headed down to the hospital. They hooked me up to the monitors like every other time. I still believed that everything was fine. Then I heard it. The heart rate dropped. In the blink of an eye, there were 3 nurses in my room. Now I started getting nervous. They hooked me up to IV fluids "just in case". My MIL called my husband and he was on his way. I laid there hoping this wasn't happening that day. It was Tuesday and Saturday was my son's big Star Wars 5th birthday party. After my OB called the perinatologist, they decided it was best that my OB delivered. It was happening, I was having a baby, 33 weeks and 3 days. Here we go again. I was nervous, I was scared. I was in shock. 

My husband made it just in time. Thank goodness. I got prepped and wheeled into the OR as he was getting in his scrubs. Ugh, the epidural. I was much more calm going into this one. I guess cause I knew what to expect. I laid down in the table and watched the door waiting for my husband to walk through. I breathed a deep sigh of relief when I saw him. Although I could only see his eyes, I knew everything was going to be okay. He sat by my side and we talked. We talked normally like we were sitting having a cup; of coffee. Before I knew it, I heard my baby cry. And boy did he cry. It was the most amazing sound. They took him over to get vitals and clean him up. And still he cried. Then I saw him. That little itty bitty face sticking out from all the blankets he was swaddled in. I never thought I could love another baby as much as I love my first, but in that instant, my heart was bursting with love for both of my boys. My heart was full. My beautiful baby was here at just 3 pounds 5.9 ounces and 16 inches long. 

May 27, 2014

My husband followed the baby while the doctors finished up and then I was wheeled to recovery. I laid there watching the clock. 1 hour in recovery and they would wheel me down to see my boy. They rolled me down in the bed to the Special Care Nursery. He was so tiny. So very tiny. My first was smaller by 2 ounces. But time will skew your memory. I got to hold him. He was so small, so fragile. I couldn't believe this was happening again. But, as with my first, he was healthy. 

The last 9 days have been roller coaster. A busy roller coaster. Managing 2 kids in 2 different places, giving both attention, but knowing that Ryan needs his rest. I'd be there all day every day if I could. He needs to grow. He is doing well. As of last night he weighed in at 3 pounds 9.5 ounces. He is maintaining his temperature in the isolette and eating well. He's up to 32ml every 3 hours, which is just over an ounce. At 4 pounds they will transfer him to an open crib and see if he maintains his temperature for at least 48 hours. If he does, he will be on his way home! 

June 5, 2014

Taking Charge of Health

A few weeks ago, my husband and I started having a serious conversation about expanding our family and having another child. We explored everything; potential financial implications, employment or lack thereof, ways to gain income other than our 9-5 jobs to help build a nest egg and even when the ideal time to get pregnant was so I didn't have to go through the heat of the summer. We know this is pretty beyond our control, but we're planners...down to the nitty gitty planners. Heck, we even came up with a plan to buy a house. We left no stone unturned, or so we thought. Ultimately, we were satisfied that we thought it through enough and that now was a good a time as any.

 

Then, as if my body screamed out in protest, I broke out in a rash that was in many ways similar to the rash I had when I was pregnant with our son. It was an awful rash, the kind of itch that is so deeply embedded in your skin, you could literally tear your skin open just trying to get to it. This rash had all the makings of that, but I knew I wasn't pregnant. I had an appointment with my OB/GYN anyway to make sure all my parts were working and there was nothing we should worry about. All clear...except the rash. I started a 6 day prednisone pack and away the rash went. Until a week later, it was back. Now I started to get concerned and made an appointment with my primary doctor. She started me on an 18 day high dose prednisone regime. It's been fine since, however, I stop taking the prednisone Saturday and I pray it doesn't come back. Because until we figure this out, our baby plans are stalled.

 

In another week, we'll draw blood and test for everything and anything under the sun. If we don;t find anything there, off to the allergist I go...if it comes back.

 

One thing we didn't discuss was health. Were we healthy enough to attempt pregnancy again? I will be the first to admit that when we tried for our son, we definitely didn't take the proper steps to ensure our health and the health of the pregnancy before hand. I was overweight, a smoker and didn't exercise regularly. I ate all the wrong foods at all the wrong times, my body was not equipped to handle the stress of a pregnancy. But surprisingly enough, we got pregnant pretty easily.

 

This started to get me super focused on improving my families health and the health of our future little one. First on the chopping block...our diet. A few months ago I tried a shake diet. the shakes were really good, and there were so many different ones to create, but after a while I grew bored with it. I love food, and I love variety and texture. Shakes were not it. I did drop a few pounds and that made me motivated to find healthy options for the things that I like to eat...not drink. I really just made the best possible choices with the information that I had until I discovered the Drop 10 Diet. What drew me to this diet was the customizable nature of it. You customize it to your tastes and schedule. The object is to arm you with the information you need to make your own healthy living choices. So, it really isn't a diet, it's a behavior change. THAT I can do!!

 

It's really exciting to start on the journey to healthy living and taking control of my families health.

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Old Place, New Family

As we began moving to our new apartment a few months ago, I wrote a piece called The Echoes We Leave Behind. I wrote about how I believed that every family leaves echoes when they move on to a new home. I walked room to room recalling the fond memories we had made there. It is a piece I am very proud of and it has helped to document the journey that our family has taken.

Since we moved, we have watched our place remain empty. The first of every month comes and goes and it remains empty. Until about two weeks ago, they began renovations. We knew that our echoes were being replaced. It would no longer resemble the place that we called home for so long. We also knew that someone was moving in. In someway, we still had an attachment to that place and living across the street from it, well, we never really separated. It was our first home, our son's first home, many firsts in our life took place there and that is not something that is easy to let go of. We were offended that someone else was moving into OUR home.

Then last night as we sat on our new balcony, having coffee after dinner, we saw the bathroom light go on, then the kitchen, then the bedroom. We saw people feverishly cleaning and begin moving things into OUR home. I'll admit, part of me was sad. I will always think of it as our home and our home was being invaded by intruders.

To be nice (and curious) my husband went over to introduce himself and welcome them to the neighborhood. He explained that we used to live there and was wondering if they had done a full renovation for them. The mother of the couple nicely invited my husband up to see what they had done. Bad idea!!! No sooner had my husband walked down OUR stairs, was he calling me. They ripped up the kitchen floor that he so perfectly put down, the cabinets were new and there was now a dishwasher. Yes, the floor was a big deal!!! My husband spent an entire Saturday laying that floor, meticulously making sure that each tile was perfectly lined up. It was only peel and stick tiles, but it made my kitchen homey and made me happy. After all the years that it was there, not one tile ever cracked, lifted or shifted. And now it was gone. OUR floor was gone. WE were gone. The personal touches that we added to make it OUR home were gone and with it left the echoes that we left behind.

In some way knowing that someone else wasn't walking on MY floor in MY kitchen helped me to mentally and emotionally make the separation from old place to new place. It has ignited a fire to start buckling down and making OUR home OURS once again.