Perspective

We have been watching more television than I care to admit at our house lately. Caleb gets at least 2 episodes of Blue's Clues in everyday and sometimes a movie. The movie he has loved watching the past few weeks is "Ratatouille". There is a character in the movie named Anton Ego who is a food critic. All of the characters, even the other villain, are afraid of Ego and his scathing reviews. When he shows up to critique the restaurant and the new chef, the waiter asks him what he would like and his reply is "Perspective." The first time I heard that line I laughed, but the more I dwell on it, it seems like such a difficult order to fill.

Throughout this pregnancy, I have been sorely lacking in perspective. I have taken everything that has happened and immediately tried to assign blame. Most of the blame I take upon myself, other blame I pass on to over-reactive doctors and inexperienced medical personnel. It occurred to me this morning that I have not been viewing things from the proper perspective. I have focused on numerous small details and frequently need to be grounded by my wonderful husband about where everything is in the "big picture". Once grounded, I usually can put my priorities in order: What is most important to me and what I can and cannot control.

I can control how much I move around in a day.
I can control that when I am with Caleb that I am completely present with him.
I can control being a supportive wife and partner.
I can control my thoughts, particularly the negative ones about childbirth and NICU.

I cannot control when I will go into labour.
I cannot control my two year old at all times. He is, after all, two.
I cannot control the added stress my husband has at his job.
I cannot control the financial pressure that we are both feeling.
I cannot control the crazy dreams that I have been having, but I can control my reaction to them.

Things that are important to me:

My growing relationships with my faith, my husband and my children.
Continuing to be a friend to people - because my life have a stumbling block right now, but there are many others that I know personally who have experienced much worse and continue to strive to overcome.

Things I need to continue to work on:

Remaining present in this pregnancy. It will be my last and I need to savour all of these little moments and milestones. It has been so easy to be caught up in the stress of everything that I have frequently forgotten that at the end of this journey, there will be another life joining our family. I need to prepare myself for that, and enjoy our last few weeks as a family of three.
Trying to help Scott with the stress that he has by maintaining our home and doing what childcare I can so that he too can have some alone time to achieve perspective.

Ten on Tuesday

1. Scott got to make an emergency trip to the dentist on Thursday because his far right bottom molar cracked in half. We are now trying to decide when he should have surgery to remove the rest of the tooth.


2. Our weather was beautiful this weekend. Sadly, Scott didn't get to enjoy much of it as he was working a clearance sale at the warehouse.


3. A combination of chasing after C-Bugs and heat caused some contractions Saturday night, but I got them calmed down after a couple of hours... without going to the hospital!


4. Caleb was pretty well behaved most of the weekend. The only time he got grumpy was right before nap time which is pretty huge in the 2-year old world.


5. I discovered the joys of Play-Doh again. :)


6. Everyone should invest in a Little Green by Bisel. I love mine! Especially after it got regurgitated french fries and chocolate milkshake out of the carpet in Caleb's room. ('nuff said)


7. I had a great report at the doctors today. They said to keep laying low for another three weeks, but that if I went in to labor after Saturday they wouldn't do anything to stop it. "We have to think, if the uterus is trying to expel the baby from the body, there has to be a good reason." Thanks, I think?


8. We all ate ice cream on the deck tonight - Caleb in only a diaper eating a Shrek push pop. Love it.
9. The nursery still is not completed, but I am going to crack the whip the weekend and get it done! We have to move the computer desk and hang the blinds. (We, of course, being Scott - no heavy lifting or climbing ladders for this prego!)
10. This is how Caleb is counting: " One, two, five, six, seven, eight, nine, eleven, twelve, six!"

Just a little scared...

My sweet sister-in-law Susie ... wait, both of my sisters-in-law are sweet... but I digress..

My sister-in-law Susie is due a week before me. It was really fun during the first 12 weeks of our pregnancy to hear everything that was going on with her, especially because this is her first baby. She would call to complain about morning sickness, and I (green at the gills myself) would say "I tried this with Caleb" not letting on that I was in the process of trying it again! When we finally were ready to tell our families (at 12 weeks) Susie was the most shocked. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: So when exactly is your due date?
Susie: June 6th, or that is what the doctor said at least.
Me: So you're due exactly one week before me.
Susie: What!??
Me: Our babies are due a week apart.
Susie: Why didn't you tell me!?!

I has been really neat experiencing the pregnancy together and talking about ultrasounds and measurements and all the prep work that comes along with a new baby. When we had our 20 week ultrasounds, Scott made the comment that Susie's baby looked like our baby. I said "Of course it does, they're cousins!" We have also joked about who the favourite grandchild is going to be and Susie's husband Ross said that the title of favourite would go to whichever baby was born first. (Sorry guys, looks like we are going to win that race!)

Last night Susie called to fill us in on her ultrasound. At 33 weeks, they are estimating the baby's weight at 6.5 lbs. ALREADY. My nether-regions hurt just thinking about how big this kid is going to be at 37, let alone 42 weeks (Susie was a whopping 11lbs 2oz and 2 weeks late).

I am really hoping that our little noodle doesn't decide that s/he needs to play catch-up... maybe the Frattaroli cousins can have the claim to fame of being "large". I'm quite happy having another 7lb7oz baby thankyouverymuch!

The Terrific Twos continued...

Parenting has brought a lot of changes into our home. Our house, while never spotless, has now become a large storage area... for Caleb's toys. The largest shelf Caleb has been able to find is the living room floor. We do have a designated play room, and while I try to do a lot of activities with Caleb in there, being on bedrest has bent and broken most of the rules. I am happy to report that the majority of things that he likes playing with are "quiet" play items. (We have strongly discouraged family from buying toys that make noise - not to say that he doesn't still have some things... I can only imagine trying to lie on my left side while setting up a Hot Wheels course... *shiver*.) His current favourites are puzzles, colouring and books. In particular, the boy loves to paint with his finger paints, and I think his "big brother" gift is going to be an easel with paints and brushes.

Two year olds also like to "store" things in "safe" places. An inventory of what I found under my sofa cushions this week:

1. Puzzle pieces from at least 3 puzzles
2. Blocks from the shape sorter
3. Felt covered cheerios
4. A stuffed snake
5. 2 story books
6. 5 mangled crayons
7. Non-edible raisins
8. Multiple stickers that had been torn
9. The remote that I originally went looking for.

That being said, having a two year old has brought out some things that I guess I just thought were "known" behaviours, not "learned". The following are phrases that I have said in the last week:

1. We don't climb on the dog.
2. The dog is not a horse.
3. We don't climb in the dishwasher.
4. We don't eat worms.
5. No chocolate for breakfast.
6. Cars don't go in the dishwasher.
7. Hands out of your pants!
8. No boing-boinging on your bed!
9. We can't eat Popsicles for breakfast.
10. Put that back in the garbage!
11. The cat is not a horse
12. No throwing in the house.
13. Bats are not for hitting cats.
14. Do not let the dog lick your fork!
15. The dog doesn't like it when you touch her bum.

So the adventure continues. I wonder what I am going to find under my sofa cushions this week....

Baby Drama

Thursday was a big day - my last ultrasound and finally I was going to no longer be "high risk" or so I thought...

I went for my OB appointment at 1:00. Dr. Hank said that I looked good, baby was growing well, and (yipee!!) I was NOT dilated! We discussed the options that the high risk MDs had given me, in particular, having my uterine contractions monitored every week. "I don't want to treat you like a sick person, and I think having you come in that often and getting worked up every time you come in is going to do us more harm than good. Take it easy, I'll see you in two weeks, and at 34 weeks we are going to lift all of your restrictions." To make it even better, he said, "I have a feeling you are going to be one of those patients that despite all the bedrest I am going to have to induce at the end of 40 weeks."

Are you kidding me?!?! I was so excited!! Maybe now I could start feeling like this baby was actually coming, and was going to be healthy... and maybe now I could figure out where I put all those newborn clothes...

My last ultrasound appointment was at 2:30, but because the offices are literally down the hall from one another, I went over and asked if there was any way that I could be squeezed in early, either for the monitoring or my ultrasound. The staff was very accommodating and at 1:40 was settled into the nice recliner enjoying my murder mystery. Scott came in about 2:20 (I had told him that I thought I would be okay for the OB part of the visit) and we talked about names and what a good report I had gotten from Dr. Hank.

We finally got pulled back for the ultrasound at 2:50 and our tech very diligently took all of my measurements and went to see the doctor. Scott and I talked about grilling out and I said I was going to treat myself to a Chik-Fil-A Lemonade (my current craving).

Dr. Martinez walked in. "So, what's new, Ms. Maynard?"
"Nothing! Exactly how I want it to be! No contractions, I feel good - "
He cut me off. "That is not what I am seeing on the monitor. Right now your contractions are 3-6 minutes apart and your measurements have decreased significantly from last week. I am going to have to admit you to labor and delivery for further evaluation and monitoring."

My jaw must have hit the floor. Contractions? Aren't I supposed to feel those?? I mean, when I went into labor at 26 weeks I definitely felt like something was going on. Admitted?? Are you kidding? Being admitted is for people who are in labor.. or in danger of going into labor... I feel good! Besides, the bag that I packed to go the hospital with last week is sitting by my front door! So I said the only inarticulate thing that came into my head.

"Shit."

Fortunately, Dr. Martinez laughed and said "That's the best you can do?"

Scott and I waddled off to labor and delivery (in the same hospital fortunately), I got changed into a gown and Scott went to drive his vehicle back to the warehouse where he works. Carol, the midwife in my OB practice, hooked me up to a contraction monitor and a fetal heart monitor. About an hour later, Scott came in and needed the parking ticket for my vehicle because he had to make the half hour drive to pick up Caleb from daycare.

Within 45 minutes, Carol had decided that I was merely a bit dehydrated which was making my uterus irritable, and that because I had consumed about 800mL of water, I was free to go. I called Scott (who now has both vehicles) and he was halfway to get Caleb, so I had to wait at the hospital for another hour. When he finally got me, we picked up his car at the warehouse, I drove Caleb home and he followed.

We had a nutritious dinner of chicken fingers and potato wedges followed by popsicles. (And yes, I know I'm a stress eater) It was an early night for all of us.

Needless to say, I am back to being put on the monitor once a week and I now have weekly OB visits instead of weekly ultrasound visits. I am still on modified bedrest and I have been told to "Listen to my body". Apparently I need to get my internal hearing checked for picking up contractions....

Happy Easter!! (Belatedly)

We were really fortunate that our friends Jen and Jeff decided to spend Easter with us all the way from Ottawa! They had a bit of an adventure getting to our house (called an 11 hour drive) but it was so much fun to have them there!

I was my usual uncharming, left-sidelying-on-the-couch self while Scott, Jen and Jeff entertained Caleb, entertained me and made WAAAAYYY too much food to eat.

Here are a few highlights of the trip:

1. Jen took me to Target and pushed me around in a wheelchair, all while maintaining her grip on her Starbucks. It was shocking how people cleared the aisle for me...
   
2. Scott and Jeff went golfing and enjoyed the beautiful weather


3. Scott and Jeff also went grocery shopping with Caleb together and got a few "looks" from the people at Karns. To quote Scott "It's a good thing that at least we both have red hair so we could have said we were brothers!"


4. Playing Cranium on Saturday night and trying to guess "ghost town" -- we kept thinking it was Pacman....


5. Jen and I gave ourselves pedis and I discovered that I need a long handled brush and a magnifying glass in order to paint my toes!
   

And some pics of Caleb hanging out with his new friends....

Caleb and Jen

Eggs!

Caleb and Jeff

On a side note, since I have been taking Caleb to daycare everyday, he wakes up every morning and asks for people in this order:

1. Daddy


2. Gunka (my dad)


3. Gramma (Scott's mom)


4. Joon (Jen and Jeff)
   

Just wanted to let you know that you were missed!

Long Lost Blog

We've had an interesting week since my last post; let me start on Tuesday.

Tuesday morning I woke up feeling anxious - not with trepidation, but with excitement: If my ultrasound looked good today I would be able to go back to work part-time. Scott and I went to the office together and waited for over half an hour to be called back. The ultrasound tech did my measurements they were not good. They were so poor in fact, that when the doctor came in he told me that I was no longer on Modified Bedrest, but Strict Bedrest. He told me to make a follow-up appointment in two days, and if my measurements had not improved that I would be admitted to the hospital.

I was shocked. I honestly thought that I was going back to work.

Scott and I drove back to work and home in separate vehicles. I had to call my boss and tell him that I definitely was not returning to work for the duration of my pregnancy and that he should look for someone for the next 10 weeks. I went home and laid on the couch and tried not to cry. How could this be happening? Hospitalized? What was going to happen to Caleb? How would Scott manage all of this? By the time Scott got home I had managed to calm myself down enough to put on a brave face. We ate dinner, put Caleb to bed, and both went to bed early, tired from stress.

Wednesday was interesting: Scott had to take over my duties of taking Caleb to and from daycare and I had to spend most of the day in left side lying. For those of you that have not experienced total bedrest the idea of lying in bed and reading may sound really appealing, but believe me, it gets really old, really quick.

Thursday morning I had my follow-up appointment at 9AM. Scott and I took Caleb to daycare and I waited in the car while Scott brought him to his classroom. It was so hard for me to watch the two of them walking in (I have tears in my eyes thinking about it right now) knowing that it may be the last time I dropped Caleb off until after the baby was born. I sat in the car waving to him and blowing kisses while I was fighting back tears. Poor Caleb started to cry as soon as they entered the daycare and continued to cry for his mommy while Scott was walking out of the classroom.

I think we spent most of the 30 minute drive to the doctor's office in silence. I had packed a bag the previous night in case I was admitted. The only things I could think to say to Scott were "I might have forgotten my toothbrush." "I definitely forgot my razor."

I was called back quickly for my appointment, and the measurements were great! I know that this should have been some kind of relief to me, but all I could think about was that I was going to have to keep coming back and riding this emotional roller coaster for another week. Scott was on cloud nine - grinning ear to ear ("I knew everything would be okay.") and I don't know if I was in more shock that it was better or that we would have to continue with the visits. The doctor suggested that I be put on the contraction monitor to rule out any new activity, but if that was okay, that he would see me in a week. The monitor showed some Braxton hicks, and we were sent on our merry way.

So now it is almost a week later and I have to go back tomorrow for another appointment. I am not anxious this time, just frustrated. Hopefully tomorrow will be my last ultrasound and I can continue with normal OB/GYN appointments after this.

Mayhem and Foolishness

"Who wants a clean house?!"

I seriously love the show Clean House, only because it makes me feel better about my own disaster of a living space. While you might have to clear a place to sit, you can walk around without tripping on piles of clothing, toys, or paperwork... most of the time. ;)

I do not consider myself a neat freak by ANY stretch of the imagination. I was raised in a house where on Saturday morning you cleaned the bathrooms, vacuumed the house and did the laundry. Every night, my somewhat OCD father, would clean up the kitchen. (Side note: while my dad would clean up the kitchen every night, you could NEVER see the surface of his desk in our office... EVER).

Scott and I butt heads every so often about cleaning the house. I am of the mind that the bathrooms should be done every week, cat litter should be emptied every few days, and when the dog hair gets thick enough on the hardwood floor that it looks like we have carpeting, that it is time to vacuum/steam mop them. Most of the time, Scott could care less. If we are having company, he turns into the cleaning tornado. The man becomes Merry Maids at hyperspeed.
But back to the point of this post.

Four weeks ago, I was placed on "Modified Bedrest". My instructions from my doctor were "No cleaning, no lifting, no laundry. Just sit around the house and be lazy." Scott has been superman: taking care of Caleb, doing all the spring yard work, and making dinner almost every night. I know how much he loves me by how much he has been doing for me. The second week of bedrest, my dad was here and able to utilize his OCD tendencies to clean the house for us and to paint the nursery.

Both my in-laws and dad have felt kind of helpless during this stressful time, and both have offered to pay for someone to come and clean the house. We finally gave in, but it was after a lot of discussion on our part about what we needed time for as a family and maintaining a sanity level.

I had a recommendation of a cleaning person to call from a former patient. The first visit did nothing to set mind my at ease about my cleaning ability. She ran her finger along the top of door jams, base boards, window blinds and tub surrounds, all the while making "mmmhmmmm" noises to herself and the occasional "Don't mind me honey!" directed at me. When she finished her inspection, she let me know what her prices were (very reasonable) and that she would purchase the cleaning supplies she liked to use, with the understanding that we would re-imburse her. Fair enough!

Today is my first day with my cleaning lady. While I have sat here blogging, she has spend one and a half hours cleaning our two bathrooms. I hear grunts and sighs, and while I feel a little guilty, I love the idea that tonight when I go to bed, my house will be clean and my family will be together.

Doctors Galore

Caleb turned two on March 1st, which was a Sunday. On the 3rd, I dutifully brought my child to the pediatrician for his well child check up. "He looks great! His weight and height are just where they need to be. He is walking and speaking well. Is he in daycare? (I nodded) Well, it is just remarkable at how healthy he has stayed." I walked out of the office very self-congratulatory. Look at me! I'm raising a healthy, developmentally on track child! If I could drink, I'd have beer to celebrate!!

There should have been warning bells, but instead, I continued to pat myself on the back.

Two weeks ago on Tuesday, I went to pick Caleb up from daycare and I walked in to find him crying and his mouth covered in blood. His teacher said "We were just about to call you!" Oh great. Nothing good comes from a call from daycare. I rushed over to him - well rushed as much as my seven month pregnant body allows me to rush, and saw that he had put his tooth through his lip.

I have had LOTS of first aid, lifeguard and wound care training, so the blood and clean up part didn't bother me, but the helpless look in his eyes, as in "Mommy, why aren't you making this pain go away?", was almost more than I could bear. After prompting from me, they found some ice for his lip and we headed home.

My dad was upstairs painting the nursery, and I called out to him multiple times because I wanted a second opinion on whether or not I should take him to the doctor. My dad will claim up and down that he is not losing his hearing, it is just that I mumble. I don't think shouting "Dad!!" up the stairs counts as mumbling, but somehow he still managed not to hear me. (Important note: I am limited on how many times a day I can go up and down the stairs, and I am definitely not supposed to carry a crying two year old up the stairs.) I finally called Scott, and we decided to call the pediatrician, who arranged for an appointment in 45 minutes. FINALLY, my dad heard me, I told him where were going and that I would call with the results.

The pediatrician was great. She said with where the injury was she wouldn't try to stitch it, or put skin glue on it, and just to let it heal. She sent us home with a tube of antibiotic cream and told us to call if we had any problems.

That Sunday, Caleb took an unusually long nap - almost four hours. When he woke up, he had a large mass behind his ear on the side that he had split his lip open. When I would try to touch it he would say "NO, broken." We called the pediatrician again, and she said to take him to the ER.

So, off we went to the ER. We waited for about an hour and a half (which wasn't bad for a Sunday evening). Caleb was NOT impressed with the hospital gown that he had to put on, but he did like washing his hands over and over again. The funniest part of the wait was trying to keep him quiet. Scott told him "Shhh. We have to be very quiet. We're hunting for rabbits!" Caleb then proceeded to tell everyone "Shhhh. Wabbits!"

The ER doc came in, looked at his neck, checked his ears, nose and throat and determined that the swollen lymph node (i.e. the mass) was a result of the healing process of his lip and the ear infection that he had developed on that side. She gave us some antibiotics and told us to follow up with our pediatrician if everything hadn't subsided in a week. Great. We went home, did what any good parent would do, and let him have ice cream for dinner.

One week later, I notice that Caleb still has some swelling on his neck, and where the mass had been soft before, it was now firm and nodular. Off we go to the pediatrician... again. "No, Mrs. Aikenhead, the ear infection has not cleared up, and now he has a sinus infection... I think. I am going to need to check his nose for foreign objects." (Note to other parents: If your child's nose is only draining on one side, this could indicate that they have a foreign body in there. Aren't you glad I learned that for you!??) Thankfully, no foreign objects, but now we are on a stronger antibiotic which can cause the runs. Good thing my boy loves his yogurt!

We have a follow up visit in two weeks, which blows my mind that in 6 weeks, we will have been to the doctor FIVE times. This really is a record for us.