Last week I sold Cohen's bassinet.
I have been slowly selling off Addison's baby clothes and gear for the past couple of months now and as I got down to the end, some of Cohen's stuff started making it into the mix. I don't know what it was about that bassinet that triggered the landslide of emotions but with that transaction, it really hit home...
There will be no more babies.
I realize that for some of you this may sound odd, coming from someone who loathed pregnancy, had no luck breastfeeding, got nailed with post postpartum depression, and suffers from some version of an on again, off again eating disorder. I'm not the gleaming, stay at home mom, who wants nothing more than to play peek-a-boo and fix mac-n-cheese while folding loads of laundry and juggling poopy diapers. I'm not that mom. However, that doesn't mean that I don't LOVE being a mom - that my babies aren't the highlight of my life every single day. Do I get frustrated when lunch ends up on the floor or I get spit up on as I'm walking out the door for work or when I accidentally stick my finger in POOP. Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Do I get tired for packing for a small army to run the simplest errand? Yup. Do public tantrums and consequent displays of authority make me feel like crap? You had better believe it. But regardless of all of that - the hugs, the recent squeals of delight about Santa coming (this is the first year that she 'gets it'), the coo's when Cohen snuggles in for the night... all of that makes it worth it a thousand fold.
It's not that I don't love having a threenager... because I do. Addison is hysterical - her vocabulary and timing leave us cracking up half the time and scratching our heads the rest. She has her own personality, her own opinions (that she will TOTALLY tell you about - whether you asked or not). She does silly dances when she gets excited and clings to my leg when she's sad or scared. She's FINALLY potty trained (mostly) and seeing her beam with pride after she climbs off the potty makes me so proud. She's independent enough to go out and demonstrate all the gymnastic stations in class but clingy enough that if I hide to well during hide-and-seek, she will sit down and cry because she's scared that she 'lost' me.
And Cohen... sweet Cohen, who is currently rocking out in his jungle jumper like it's going out of style... eight short months ago he came in out our lives as this tiny little bundle of boy. His foot fit along the inside of my thumb and my hand was the length of his entire body. We brought him home weighing just over 5 pounds. Now, that tiny little man has grown into a 18 pound baby who is crawling (his own version... but it counts), eating solid foods, and starting to show his own silly little personality. We are in this amazing phase where his personality is starting to show through and he is learning so much about the world every day. I adore rocking him to sleep and when he gets a fistful of my shirt (or my hair) and rubs it against his face - it melts my heart.
These two little souls are the highlight of my existence - even on the days when they frustrate me to the end of my wits. I'm lucky enough that I got 'one of each' and I'll have my own unique experiences with each of them. But they will be my only two... and while I've always said that I wanted two kids, that two kids would be perfect, yaddayaddayaada... some days I'm not sure if I'm 100% convinced. I love newborns, I love their smells, their snuggles, their tiny cries, watching them yawn, the itty bitty toes and fingers... and all of that goes by so quickly.
I hated pregnancy. But, and I'm not sure if this next statement makes me weird or not because I've never admitted it out loud to anyone, but I loved labor and delivery {in it's own way - let me explain}. All things pregnancy related were out of my control - the preterm labor, the contractions, the bed rest, the weight gain, and aches and pains and sleepless nights... and it lasted FOREVER. But once I was in labor, even though I was in agony, I was in control. I was doing something that my body was designed to do - I was bringing a LIFE into this world and while I had coaches and support - it was on me to do it. And for some reason that really meant something to me. Even in the throws of the worst contractions before my epidural and even during the exhaustion of pushing or the agony of healing afterward - I felt like that was my moment. And when I held those two perfect babies, both 19 inches and both 6lbs. 14oz. I felt like I had done the most important thing that I could ever do. I have created, protected, developed, and delivered a child. Twice.
I will never have that feeling again. Couple that with the fact that the only newborns I'll be cuddling will belong to other mamas... it stings a little bit. I know that it's what is best for our family and that we will be able to offer our kids more because there will only be two of them but I never knew what it meant to really LOVE someone with every fiber of your being until I became a mom. And I also never knew that a mother's love doesn't get 'divided' with additional children - it multiplies. I know that sounds all 'Hallmark-y' and cheesy but it's true. I remember writing about being scared that I would love Addison the same way when I had two babies to love. I love her exactly the same... and I love Cohen just as much. I feel like with each baby, my heart grew.
So, even though these are sad words for me to write, they are the right words for our family... there will be no more babies.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Saturday, December 8, 2012
When it all falls down...
"I haven't been myself lately"
Understatement of the year.
I had a lot of time to think today - to reflect on what ever THIS is that is going on with me. I don't know where to start with this post... with the symptoms or with the cause, so please hang on as it could be a bumpy ride.
I don't remember when it started this time... I never do. I never see it coming until it has hit me like a Mac truck doing 70 on the highway. But when it finally does it - it shatters everything. Every carefully constructed wall, every facade, every faked smile - all the things that I don't even realize that I am faking until it's too late. It all comes crashing down. I've been miserable for some time now - and if you keep reading you'll understand that by 'miserable' I really mean in a bout of clinical depression. It's not anything new or groundbreaking, I was diagnosed and started medication when I was 16. But I have what I guess I would call "flare ups" - times when no amount of medication can touch the gaping hole that I feel has been cut right through my center. This is one of those times.
I *think* this bout is a result of our new real estate endeavors. I have had a fear of selling our house for years now... not because I don't think it will sell or because I think that we won't get what we need out of it, but because I have ZERO control over the situation. None. I can't make someone love this house, I can't drag people to it and jump up and down on the street and scream, "Look!!!! It's perfect for you!!! BUY IT NOW!!!" I can't do anything but sit back, stalk the listing, and wait. And wait. And while I wait, I worry. I worry that it won't sell fast enough and we will lose the lot that we have in the new development. I worry that it won't sell at all and that for the umpteenth time, my dreams of having my dream home, will be flushed down the toilet. I hate that we aren't listed through an agent. I feel like we are sitting around, wasting our time, and by the time we do list with an agent, it will be spring and instead of a few houses being for sale there will be dozens and we will have to compete with THEM ALL. It makes my stomach turn. I hate that we are supposed to maintain this 'clean' house for the indefinite future and that some of my favorite stuff is packed away in boxes and I have no idea when I'll see it again. I HATE LIVING IN LIMBO.
And, as a result my control seeking brain stealthily started it's own power show. Whenever I feel like everything is in free fall and I can't control what is happening in my life, I quit food. Obviously, if you look at me, you'll know that I'm no anorexic. But, as a matter of asserting my ability to control something, I control food. Yesterday, I had a muffin and a 24 oz. decaf mocha. Today, I had a bowl (and a half) of cereal. I was fully intending to go to bed with out anything else until my emotional breakdown at approximately 5pm. Yes, Derek made me dinner. Yes, I ate it. And, yes, some of the symptoms that have been bothering me so badly these last few days... weeks... seem to have abated, at least for now. I'm warm for the first time in a week... I'm still exhausted and have a headache but I don't think one magic meal and a blog post is going to remedy that. The domino effect of stopping food is where most of my problems have come from lately - I'm exhausted, which is inconvenient when you are the mama of two babies. I'm not doing what I should around the house - Derek is the one cleaning, and cooking... and doing pretty much everything. I feel like right now, I exist to pump breast milk, hold babies, and educate middle schoolers. That's about all I can manage in a given day right now. By the time I get home, I'm wiped out {probably because I'm -2000 calories or so... but either way, I'm wiped out}. Then I feel worse about myself because I'm not pulling my weight around here and because I can't live up to all the other commitments in my life [clubs, work stuff... hell, even social stuff] so I control more... and so it goes.
The first time I remember this cycle starting was when I went away to college at WSU. I was terrified to be living on my own, hours from my parents, with ZERO friends around. I didn't know a soul when I walked into my dorm that first day. It was only by chance that I ran into some friends from my hometown a few days later and, eventually, met Derek and his friends. But at first, I was completely alone. I ate alone. Went to class alone. Studied alone. I didn't make a single friend my entire first semester {in fact, aside from Derek, there is only one other person that I would ever consider a friend from college}. I stayed in my room. I lived on steamed rice or goldfish crackers and Sprite. And it set me up perfectly to come down with meningitis that first October. I was malnourished, consuming large amounts of alcohol, not sleeping on any type of proper schedule, and living in a dorm - there really aren't more perfect circumstances for coming down with it. I spent two weeks in the hospital. Alone. I didn't have any friends - not a single person, to visit me in the hospital. My nurse felt so bad that on Halloween he brought me a singing pumpkin and a printout of my EKG with a note on it that said, "You have a good heart."
I remember it happening again before the wedding, and again while we were living with Derek's parents trying to find our first home, when I was first diagnosed with infertility, while I was interviewing for my first teaching job, when my dad found out he had cancer, when my marriage was in such a dark place that I believed nothing could save it, when I miscarried... when my world spins out of control, I hang on to the only thing I have control over. I know it's unhealthy. I know it's insanely unhealthy to be doing this and breastfeeding... and I know it's sick that I researched it to make sure that Cohen would still get what he needed from me, that my body would be the one to suffer, not his. But it's the only coping mechanism that I have that has ever worked for me. I've tried counseling, I'm on medication (although I ran out last week which may have contributed to today's emotional breakdown...).
I wish I could say it won't happen again... that I know the warning signs and I'll ask for help [laughs] or find some intervention that will prevent this stupid downward spiral. But, as I tell my kids in Social Studies, history has a way of repeating itself. What terrifies me is now I have a daughter who is smart, too smart for her own good... and I'm scared to death that she will somehow pick up on this. I want to be a good mother, and a good role model... and in most areas, I feel like I'm doing okay... but in this one, I'm failing miserably. I'm sorry that this has turned in to a 'woe is me' post... but it needed to come out. Sometimes seeing it on the screen, staring back at me, helps me ground myself. Sometimes, knowing that my 'secret' isn't secret anymore, takes away some of it's power. I can hope, right?
This song has been the very definition of my life so many times in the last 15 years... It has applied to about every miserable situation that I have ever had to break down and blog about {and the few that I've never had the never to blog about at all}. I don't know, it just fits.
Understatement of the year.
I had a lot of time to think today - to reflect on what ever THIS is that is going on with me. I don't know where to start with this post... with the symptoms or with the cause, so please hang on as it could be a bumpy ride.
I don't remember when it started this time... I never do. I never see it coming until it has hit me like a Mac truck doing 70 on the highway. But when it finally does it - it shatters everything. Every carefully constructed wall, every facade, every faked smile - all the things that I don't even realize that I am faking until it's too late. It all comes crashing down. I've been miserable for some time now - and if you keep reading you'll understand that by 'miserable' I really mean in a bout of clinical depression. It's not anything new or groundbreaking, I was diagnosed and started medication when I was 16. But I have what I guess I would call "flare ups" - times when no amount of medication can touch the gaping hole that I feel has been cut right through my center. This is one of those times.
I *think* this bout is a result of our new real estate endeavors. I have had a fear of selling our house for years now... not because I don't think it will sell or because I think that we won't get what we need out of it, but because I have ZERO control over the situation. None. I can't make someone love this house, I can't drag people to it and jump up and down on the street and scream, "Look!!!! It's perfect for you!!! BUY IT NOW!!!" I can't do anything but sit back, stalk the listing, and wait. And wait. And while I wait, I worry. I worry that it won't sell fast enough and we will lose the lot that we have in the new development. I worry that it won't sell at all and that for the umpteenth time, my dreams of having my dream home, will be flushed down the toilet. I hate that we aren't listed through an agent. I feel like we are sitting around, wasting our time, and by the time we do list with an agent, it will be spring and instead of a few houses being for sale there will be dozens and we will have to compete with THEM ALL. It makes my stomach turn. I hate that we are supposed to maintain this 'clean' house for the indefinite future and that some of my favorite stuff is packed away in boxes and I have no idea when I'll see it again. I HATE LIVING IN LIMBO.
And, as a result my control seeking brain stealthily started it's own power show. Whenever I feel like everything is in free fall and I can't control what is happening in my life, I quit food. Obviously, if you look at me, you'll know that I'm no anorexic. But, as a matter of asserting my ability to control something, I control food. Yesterday, I had a muffin and a 24 oz. decaf mocha. Today, I had a bowl (and a half) of cereal. I was fully intending to go to bed with out anything else until my emotional breakdown at approximately 5pm. Yes, Derek made me dinner. Yes, I ate it. And, yes, some of the symptoms that have been bothering me so badly these last few days... weeks... seem to have abated, at least for now. I'm warm for the first time in a week... I'm still exhausted and have a headache but I don't think one magic meal and a blog post is going to remedy that. The domino effect of stopping food is where most of my problems have come from lately - I'm exhausted, which is inconvenient when you are the mama of two babies. I'm not doing what I should around the house - Derek is the one cleaning, and cooking... and doing pretty much everything. I feel like right now, I exist to pump breast milk, hold babies, and educate middle schoolers. That's about all I can manage in a given day right now. By the time I get home, I'm wiped out {probably because I'm -2000 calories or so... but either way, I'm wiped out}. Then I feel worse about myself because I'm not pulling my weight around here and because I can't live up to all the other commitments in my life [clubs, work stuff... hell, even social stuff] so I control more... and so it goes.
The first time I remember this cycle starting was when I went away to college at WSU. I was terrified to be living on my own, hours from my parents, with ZERO friends around. I didn't know a soul when I walked into my dorm that first day. It was only by chance that I ran into some friends from my hometown a few days later and, eventually, met Derek and his friends. But at first, I was completely alone. I ate alone. Went to class alone. Studied alone. I didn't make a single friend my entire first semester {in fact, aside from Derek, there is only one other person that I would ever consider a friend from college}. I stayed in my room. I lived on steamed rice or goldfish crackers and Sprite. And it set me up perfectly to come down with meningitis that first October. I was malnourished, consuming large amounts of alcohol, not sleeping on any type of proper schedule, and living in a dorm - there really aren't more perfect circumstances for coming down with it. I spent two weeks in the hospital. Alone. I didn't have any friends - not a single person, to visit me in the hospital. My nurse felt so bad that on Halloween he brought me a singing pumpkin and a printout of my EKG with a note on it that said, "You have a good heart."
I remember it happening again before the wedding, and again while we were living with Derek's parents trying to find our first home, when I was first diagnosed with infertility, while I was interviewing for my first teaching job, when my dad found out he had cancer, when my marriage was in such a dark place that I believed nothing could save it, when I miscarried... when my world spins out of control, I hang on to the only thing I have control over. I know it's unhealthy. I know it's insanely unhealthy to be doing this and breastfeeding... and I know it's sick that I researched it to make sure that Cohen would still get what he needed from me, that my body would be the one to suffer, not his. But it's the only coping mechanism that I have that has ever worked for me. I've tried counseling, I'm on medication (although I ran out last week which may have contributed to today's emotional breakdown...).
I wish I could say it won't happen again... that I know the warning signs and I'll ask for help [laughs] or find some intervention that will prevent this stupid downward spiral. But, as I tell my kids in Social Studies, history has a way of repeating itself. What terrifies me is now I have a daughter who is smart, too smart for her own good... and I'm scared to death that she will somehow pick up on this. I want to be a good mother, and a good role model... and in most areas, I feel like I'm doing okay... but in this one, I'm failing miserably. I'm sorry that this has turned in to a 'woe is me' post... but it needed to come out. Sometimes seeing it on the screen, staring back at me, helps me ground myself. Sometimes, knowing that my 'secret' isn't secret anymore, takes away some of it's power. I can hope, right?
This song has been the very definition of my life so many times in the last 15 years... It has applied to about every miserable situation that I have ever had to break down and blog about {and the few that I've never had the never to blog about at all}. I don't know, it just fits.
I watched the proverbial sunrise
Coming up over the Pacific and
You might think I'm losing my mind,
But I will shy away from the specifics...
'cause I don't want you to know where I am
'cause then you'll see my heart
In the saddest state it's ever been.
This is no place to try and live my life.
Stop right there. That's exactly where I lost it.
See that line. Well I never should have crossed it.
Stop right there. Well I never should have said
That it's the very moment that
I wish that I could take back.
I'm sorry for the person I became.
I'm sorry that it took so long for me to change.
I'm ready to be sure I never become that way again
'cause who I am hates who I've been.
Who I am hates who I've been.
I talk to absolutely no one.
Couldn't keep to myself enough.
And the things bottled inside have finally begun
To create so much pressure that I'll soon blow up.
I heard the reverberating footsteps
Synching up to the beating of my heart,
And I was positive that unless I got myself together,
I would watch me fall apart.
And I can't let that happen again
'cause then you'll see my heart
In the saddest state it's ever been.
This is no place to try and live my life.
Who I am hates who I've been
And who I am will take the second chance you gave me.
Who I am hates who I've been
'cause who I've been only ever made me...
So sorry for the person I became.
So sorry that it took so long for me to change.
I'm ready to be sure I never become that way again
'cause who I am hates who I've been.
Who I am hates who I've been.
Coming up over the Pacific and
You might think I'm losing my mind,
But I will shy away from the specifics...
'cause I don't want you to know where I am
'cause then you'll see my heart
In the saddest state it's ever been.
This is no place to try and live my life.
Stop right there. That's exactly where I lost it.
See that line. Well I never should have crossed it.
Stop right there. Well I never should have said
That it's the very moment that
I wish that I could take back.
I'm sorry for the person I became.
I'm sorry that it took so long for me to change.
I'm ready to be sure I never become that way again
'cause who I am hates who I've been.
Who I am hates who I've been.
I talk to absolutely no one.
Couldn't keep to myself enough.
And the things bottled inside have finally begun
To create so much pressure that I'll soon blow up.
I heard the reverberating footsteps
Synching up to the beating of my heart,
And I was positive that unless I got myself together,
I would watch me fall apart.
And I can't let that happen again
'cause then you'll see my heart
In the saddest state it's ever been.
This is no place to try and live my life.
Who I am hates who I've been
And who I am will take the second chance you gave me.
Who I am hates who I've been
'cause who I've been only ever made me...
So sorry for the person I became.
So sorry that it took so long for me to change.
I'm ready to be sure I never become that way again
'cause who I am hates who I've been.
Who I am hates who I've been.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
7 months...
 |
| Sitting up all by himself!! |
Weight: 17.3 lbs.
Feeding Schedule: HELLO SOLIDS! Our feeding schedule has totally been thrown on it's ass in the last month. The week after Cohen's surgery we started feeding him oatmeal before his bath at night. He thought it was pretty tasty and is a champ about finishing his meals. Last week we started him on mixed grains at night and kept with his cereal in the morning and he's still going strong. We don't really do the whole 'measuring thing' but he eats... A LOT. So a typical day is a 5am bottle (6oz.), cereal around 8am, a snack bottle around 11am (4oz), a bottle at 2pm (6oz), and a bottle at 5pm (6oz), mixed grains at 7:30pm, and then about 2oz. after his bath to help him fall asleep. My boy can EAT. Sleeping Schedule: His sleep routine is a bath after dinner and a small bottle, I rock him to sleep (yah, I know, I know... let him fall asleep on his own.. blah, blah, blah... THIS IS MY LAST BABY - I WILL ROCK HIM UNTIL HE IS 18 IF HE'LL LET ME!!) down but about 8:15pm. Since starting solids he usually sleeps until 5am when we get up, unless he does something amazing in his diaper in the middle of the night. If we give him a bottle at 5am and lay him back down, we can usually get him to sleep until 8 or even 9 if we're lucky...
Milestones: He loves sitting (with safety guards, he still topples when he gets tired), he finds standing to be AMAZING and loves to stand in our laps, he's eating solids {which means his poop is CRAZY WEIRD now}, and he STILL hasn't produced a tooth {which means he's made a liar out of me for the past two months...}.
Best Moment This Month: It's not anything new but I'm so in love with rocking him to sleep... he has this little thing where he does his baby yawn {omahgawd SO sweet} and grabs on to the neck of my shirt when he's ready to fall asleep. Like I said, I'll rock this boy to sleep as long as he'll let me.
Loves: Jumping in his bouncer, standing, sitting up, chewing on spoons, taking baths, giggling, smiling, wrestling with blankets, babble, chew on mama's knees, pull on facial features and hair...
Hates: He fights going to sleep, having his neck cleaned (although we're almost out of the 'no neck' stage, having to wait for a bottle...
What We're Looking Forward To: I'm dying to see him crawl... I don't know how far off it is because he is WAY more laid back than Addison ever was but I can't wait for him to start crawling around. He inches along now and can roll pretty strategically but so far that is the extent of his mobility. We're also looking forward to his first Christmas, I'll be curious to see what he thinks of Santa.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Fall Family Pics
I happen to think I make ridiculously adorable children... so I feel the need to share their every moment with the interwebs. You're welcome...
Special thanks to Kristen at KD Portraiture for once again taking amazing pics!!
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Cohen vs. Solids (Round 1)
Today is a mighty big day for Sir Cohen. Not only has he moved on from his Nap Nanny {a man needs to be able to MOVE people...} but he has also finally entered the world of solid foods. I'm not sure that single grain oatmeal was quite the tenderloin he had been dreaming of, he has been watching us eat with puppy dog eyes for the last few weeks, but he seemed pretty excited nonetheless.
Solid foods put up a mighty fight, but I think the judges would score this one: Solids - 0, Cohen - 1.
PS... This is a scene from the bath that followed. Derek and Cohen have a 'steal the wash cloth' game that goes on every night... it's pretty damn cute. :)
Can't you tell by this face?
 |
| Let's do this Mama!! Bring on the runny oatmeal that only slightly thicker than milk!! I'm READY!! |
 |
| He HAD to hold the spoon... he's kind of a control freak like that. I have absolutely NO idea where he gets that from... |
And here, if you want the live action, is the video of this exciting moment in parenting...
Solid foods put up a mighty fight, but I think the judges would score this one: Solids - 0, Cohen - 1.
PS... This is a scene from the bath that followed. Derek and Cohen have a 'steal the wash cloth' game that goes on every night... it's pretty damn cute. :)
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Happy Halloween...
 |
| Time to get our Halloween on... |
 |
| Everyone loves a good hay bale maze... |
 |
| Cohen's first pumpkin hunting experience... |
 |
| Cute lil pumpkin... |
 |
| Kiddos with Grandpa and Grandma at the pumpkin patch... |
 |
| We don't just trick or treat... we come on in and make ourselves at home. Thank goodness for patient neighbors! |
 |
| Don't all princesses wear black Uggs under their slippers?? Stupid rain... |
 |
| Cohen says, "rawr" in his dino hoodie... |
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Cohen's Surgery...
Today was the day.
I kissed my baby boy and handed him to a stranger in scrubs {albeit a nice one} who took him away to a surgical suite. He was put under general anesthesia, given an IV, and a plastic surgeon removed the skin tag and underlying cartilage from his right ear. In return I was given a Motorola pager and told to report back to the desk when it went off. I have to say, it was not a fair trade. Derek and I went upstairs and got ourselves some Starbucks for breakfast and waited nervously for the stupid thing to beep. We finally gave up and decided to go sit in the lobby so we would be right there when they paged us... it went off as we stepped into the elevator. We waited in a room for the surgeon to come and update us and started to get panicked when we heard that the family that was put in the room next to us was receiving 'bad news' {we don't know what, they closed the door}. We had also been put in one of the two 'private' counseling rooms, instead of the more public cubical conference rooms in the waiting area. Every terrifying thought that can go through a mother's head started right then and by the time the doctor came in to tell us that everything was fine, the tears were welling up in my eyes. But, EVERYTHING WAS FINE. We waited again, this time for him to come out of recovery so we could cuddle him and feed him and snuggle him... and it felt like we waited forever. But finally, a blanket with a familiar fuzzy head came around the corner and my boy was back in my arms, hungry and demanding food, which was a wonderful sign. He ate, we snuggled, I finally took a full breath and after three hours of waiting for it to be over.
When Cohen was born I didn't even notice the ear tag... everybody always jokes about how they count their baby's fingers and toes to make sure everything was perfect but it took the pediatrician pointing it out at his first check-up (12ish hours old) for me to even know it existed. And for some reason, that fact made me feel so awful - how could I have not noticed this thing on my child that a perfect stranger picked up on in a few seconds. And then I felt awful because I couldn't believe something was 'wrong' {this was 12 hours postpartum, exhausted, hormonal me thinking - not me now} with my baby and so I felt the need to point it out and explain it to everyone, so they wouldn't wonder what it was. And then I felt awful for deciding to have it removed. I know it was the right decision - it would continue to grow and could impact him when he's older. The chinstrap on a football helmet would rub on it or the jerks in middle school would say something mean - and we wanted to prevent that if we could. But honestly, I fell in love with that little nub. It was part of my boy - my perfect, sweet, amazing little boy. And a part of me feels that by opting to remove it we are somehow sending a message that he wasn't perfect, that he needed to be 'fixed' and that is something that this mama's heart is going to have to wrestle with. I know to the rest of the world it's a small matter - but I want my babies to know that I love them unconditionally and they are perfect and beautiful - no matter what. So today was bittersweet... I believe that we did what was right and healthy {this type of defect can [rarely] be a sign of other developmental problems but Cohen doesn't have any of the signs. However, the nub was sent to the pathology lab just to be safe.}.
So it was a hard day - a long trip over the mountains in torrential rain, an early 3am feeding, followed by a happy baby who thought 3am was the PERFECT time to play and chatter, a 4:45am wake-up call to get ready and get to the hospital, a 6:45 am check in time, an 8am surgery, and a 10am drive back home. Luckily, Addison was ready for a nap {as was her brother and parents}, so we all got a two hour siesta and were surprised by our neighbor who brought us a delicious home cooked meal.
At the days end, the only thing that matters is that my baby boy is sleeping soundly in his crib and that his sister's first words when we got home were, "Is baby Cohen's ear all better?". I love my babies, so much that sometimes it hurts.
.JPG)
{Thank you Instagram for allowing me to document this entire process AND edit photos at the same time...}
I kissed my baby boy and handed him to a stranger in scrubs {albeit a nice one} who took him away to a surgical suite. He was put under general anesthesia, given an IV, and a plastic surgeon removed the skin tag and underlying cartilage from his right ear. In return I was given a Motorola pager and told to report back to the desk when it went off. I have to say, it was not a fair trade. Derek and I went upstairs and got ourselves some Starbucks for breakfast and waited nervously for the stupid thing to beep. We finally gave up and decided to go sit in the lobby so we would be right there when they paged us... it went off as we stepped into the elevator. We waited in a room for the surgeon to come and update us and started to get panicked when we heard that the family that was put in the room next to us was receiving 'bad news' {we don't know what, they closed the door}. We had also been put in one of the two 'private' counseling rooms, instead of the more public cubical conference rooms in the waiting area. Every terrifying thought that can go through a mother's head started right then and by the time the doctor came in to tell us that everything was fine, the tears were welling up in my eyes. But, EVERYTHING WAS FINE. We waited again, this time for him to come out of recovery so we could cuddle him and feed him and snuggle him... and it felt like we waited forever. But finally, a blanket with a familiar fuzzy head came around the corner and my boy was back in my arms, hungry and demanding food, which was a wonderful sign. He ate, we snuggled, I finally took a full breath and after three hours of waiting for it to be over.
When Cohen was born I didn't even notice the ear tag... everybody always jokes about how they count their baby's fingers and toes to make sure everything was perfect but it took the pediatrician pointing it out at his first check-up (12ish hours old) for me to even know it existed. And for some reason, that fact made me feel so awful - how could I have not noticed this thing on my child that a perfect stranger picked up on in a few seconds. And then I felt awful because I couldn't believe something was 'wrong' {this was 12 hours postpartum, exhausted, hormonal me thinking - not me now} with my baby and so I felt the need to point it out and explain it to everyone, so they wouldn't wonder what it was. And then I felt awful for deciding to have it removed. I know it was the right decision - it would continue to grow and could impact him when he's older. The chinstrap on a football helmet would rub on it or the jerks in middle school would say something mean - and we wanted to prevent that if we could. But honestly, I fell in love with that little nub. It was part of my boy - my perfect, sweet, amazing little boy. And a part of me feels that by opting to remove it we are somehow sending a message that he wasn't perfect, that he needed to be 'fixed' and that is something that this mama's heart is going to have to wrestle with. I know to the rest of the world it's a small matter - but I want my babies to know that I love them unconditionally and they are perfect and beautiful - no matter what. So today was bittersweet... I believe that we did what was right and healthy {this type of defect can [rarely] be a sign of other developmental problems but Cohen doesn't have any of the signs. However, the nub was sent to the pathology lab just to be safe.}.
So it was a hard day - a long trip over the mountains in torrential rain, an early 3am feeding, followed by a happy baby who thought 3am was the PERFECT time to play and chatter, a 4:45am wake-up call to get ready and get to the hospital, a 6:45 am check in time, an 8am surgery, and a 10am drive back home. Luckily, Addison was ready for a nap {as was her brother and parents}, so we all got a two hour siesta and were surprised by our neighbor who brought us a delicious home cooked meal.
At the days end, the only thing that matters is that my baby boy is sleeping soundly in his crib and that his sister's first words when we got home were, "Is baby Cohen's ear all better?". I love my babies, so much that sometimes it hurts.
.JPG) |
| Cohen was DETERMINED to steal Daddy's ID badge... it was a fun game while we were waiting for surgery. |
.JPG) |
| My Bub's little nub... |
.JPG) |
| All ready to go and rockin' the hospital gown... Derek wouldn't let me take a picture with his little bum hanging out :) |
.JPG) |
| A much deserved meal after a long morning! |
.JPG)
.JPG) | ||
| This was almost as painful for me to deal with as the surgery... :( |
 |
| No more nub, just a band aid and some stitches... sorry it's blurry - 6 month old boys fresh out of surgery aren't particularly cooperative when it comes to picture taking. |
Half a year...
 |
| Oh, how time flies... |
Length: 25.4 inches
Weight: 16 lbs.
Feeding Schedule: We are still holding steady at 6 ounces every three-ish hours... but this weekend we will be starting rice cereal for the first time... YAY for solids! Sleeping Schedule: It's pretty much down by 9pm no matter how we try to keep him up and up at 4am for his first bottle. Then he goes back down for a few hours and is usually up around 8am.
Milestones: He's now rolling across rooms in the blink of an eye, standing (obviously with a lot of help), working on his first tooth (slowly), and he is already in 6-9 month clothes, and today he had his second surgical procedure (if circumcision counts as the first one...)
Best Moment This Month: When Addison was playing peek-a-boo with him and he was CRACKING up laughing - baby belly laughs melt my heart.
Loves: Going crazy in his bouncer, grabbing at anything hanging around his face - sweatshirt strings and hair being two of his favorite, anything his sister does, fuzzy blankets, Sophie the Giraffe...
Hates: This list is shrinking... he really gets crabby when he's tired (who doesn't) and he's tolerating his car seat...
What We're Looking Forward To: Tomorrow is Cohen's first Halloween (YAY!) but we probably won't be taking him trick-or-treating because of his surgery today {see next post}.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
5 months...
Length: 23.75 inches (as of his 4 month appointment... I can't ever measure correctly)
Weight: 15 lbs. 4 oz.
Feeding Schedule: We are still holding steady at 6 ounces every three-ish hours... At least one thing hasn't changed... ;)Sleeping Schedule: It's pretty much down by 9pm no matter how we try to keep him up and up at 4:45 for his first bottle. Then he goes back down for a few hours... if we're lucky.
Milestones: He started rolling over (from his tummy to his back) and is super close to going from his back to his tummy, he just gets stuck on one arm.
Best Moment This Month: Watching him roll over and seeing him start to show his personality.
Loves: Snuggling, naps, smiling, playing on his jungle mat, grabbing at anything hanging around his face, snacking on his fingers {and sometimes entire fist}, anything his sister does, pulling Mama's hair, sucking on wet wash clothes...
Hates: Car seats, pooping, being tired, tummy time...
What We're Looking Forward To: The next few months as his personality really starts to show. It's fun to see him change and grow EVERY day. It never ceases to amaze me!!
Sunday, September 23, 2012
3 Year WWC
Height: 3 feet 1 inch (15th percentile)
Milestones: Wow... this gets a lot harder as she gets older because she is doing SO much stuff! She's doing preschool stuff with her baby sitter so she's naming colors and shapes, counting, etc. She started gymnastics a few weeks ago and my hope is for her to take actual swimming lessons this winter as well. She has a HUGE vocabulary that she is not afraid to use. She's very much an almost-preschooler... I wouldn't put her in preschool yet because of potty training and maturity issues but she's super smart (I think all parents say that =] ) She also has ALL her baby teeth in now :)
Best Moment This Year: Seeing her become a big sister. I'm amazed by how much she adores Cohen... it melts my heart every single day...
Loves: Cohen, showers, swimming, rocks, animals, cowgirl boots, pancakes, gymnastics, pizza, dancing, pony tails, Taco Bell cheese roll-ups,
Hates: Pooping on the potty, naps, water (to drink), having her hair combed, getting her hands dirty, hearing the word 'NO', being in her carseat,
What We're Looking Forward To: Preschool, team sports, family vacation (next summer)...
Weight: 30 lbs. (50th percentile)
Doctor's Notes: (1) Since we are still having issues with potty training as a result of constipation. After talking with her doctor we made the decision to put her on Miralax for a while to get her back on a normal schedule. Apparently after being constipated for so long, her intestines aren't working properly. So, that means we are back in diapers for the time being (frustrating as hell) but we have to keep upping the dose until she's going whether she wants to or not. Once we get her on schedule we can start working on potty training again. (2) She has one ear tube left in at this point. This winter will tell if she has gets ear infections we may be looking at tubes again. (3) He mentioned the acronym ADHD. I can't say I'm hugely surprised but it still stung a bit to hear. I don't want my kid to be labeled and I'm certainly not at a point where I would even consider testing her or trying medication. Is my child super active? Yes. Does she talk a million miles an hour all day every day without a breath in between? Yup. Can she sit still? Nope. So, yes, I understand the medical concern. However, until her activity level interferes with her ability to learn or participate in group activities - I'm going to leave her to mature and grow without interfering with meds. Milestones: Wow... this gets a lot harder as she gets older because she is doing SO much stuff! She's doing preschool stuff with her baby sitter so she's naming colors and shapes, counting, etc. She started gymnastics a few weeks ago and my hope is for her to take actual swimming lessons this winter as well. She has a HUGE vocabulary that she is not afraid to use. She's very much an almost-preschooler... I wouldn't put her in preschool yet because of potty training and maturity issues but she's super smart (I think all parents say that =] ) She also has ALL her baby teeth in now :)
Best Moment This Year: Seeing her become a big sister. I'm amazed by how much she adores Cohen... it melts my heart every single day...
Loves: Cohen, showers, swimming, rocks, animals, cowgirl boots, pancakes, gymnastics, pizza, dancing, pony tails, Taco Bell cheese roll-ups,
Hates: Pooping on the potty, naps, water (to drink), having her hair combed, getting her hands dirty, hearing the word 'NO', being in her carseat,
What We're Looking Forward To: Preschool, team sports, family vacation (next summer)...
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Addison's 3rd Birthday Party
And then, the next day we did it... we pulled off a Wild Child party filled with wild children (our specialty), jumping, candy, cake, and crazy present opening. Addison had so much fun playing with her cousins and friends and we got so see some of our favorite friends and family.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)