He Believes He Can Fly, He Believes He Can Touch The Sky

I realize all new parents think their baby is superior to every other baby...but...can those parents say that their baby is Super? BECAUSE WE CAN.



Harry can poop his pants mere seconds after getting a clean diaper. He can drink milk, burp and make loud grunting noises while sleeping. He can grasp your finger in a single bound.





He's our Super Baby!!

Parenting Skills

We asked Harry what he thinks about our parenting skills so far, and this was his response:

Why We Became Parents

What good is a video camera if you can't share your kid's gas with the world I say.

Also, Harry, I'm sorry.

Sort of.

Gamers

I take a nap and wake up to find my two boys playing Nintendo. I knew this day would come, I just didn't think it would be when Harry was five days old.

So....The Birth

A c-section was never part of our birth plan. As of last Friday, it became the only plan. The specialist consulted with my OB and my OB consulted with the specialist and they both consulted with us on a variety of levels. There were meetings and phone calls and words like "paralysis" for Harry if we tried to deliver and concern about his large size and so on and so forth. It's a lot to go into as to all the reasons why but ultimately we decided a c-section was the best choice for the baby while not our first choice.

Friday morning we arrived at the hospital at 5:30am, neither of us having slept much at all. Both of us feeling good with an underlying current of fear/nerves/nausea. I kept telling Ryan (so that I could hear the words out loud), "It's going to be ok. I'll get an IV, then they will put in the epidural, then we'll have a baby!"

So easy right?

At around 8:00am the nurse came in to put in my IV. After two rather painful sticks, she called in another nurse to try. After two MORE painful sticks, and a blown vein, they called in the anesthesiologist who finally got it in. I told the nurses I had only signed up for one IV....not five....through my now flowing tears. I had been so together and so brave until the fourth stick. After that, the floodgate of nerves and worry for myself and my baby busted wide open. Still reeling from the painful sticks and newly raw emotion I was prepped for the epidural. I was hunched over as the nurse held on to me and tried to assure my hysteria that everything was going to be ok. And it was! I barely felt the epidural and suddenly felt an assuring calm.

Which was good because they immediately wheeled me into the freezing, sterile, bright as the sun OR. I laid there helplessly exposed while eight or more people buzzed around me discussing the events of the day, various operating instruments, hospital gossip. A nurse wrapped warm towels around my arms and ankles while the anesthesiologist started to pinch me. It went something like this:

-Do you feel this?
-Yes.
-How about this?
-Yes.
-And this?
-Yes.
-Are you sure?
-Yes.

I hear some mumbling behind me, words like "any minute" and "soon" and "we'll try again but I'm sure it's working". All the while the anesthesiologist was putting more and more medicine in my back. Moments later while everyone is waiting, both my friends and family and all the OR staff, they try again. It goes something like this.

-Do you feel this?
-Yes.
-How about this?
-Yes.
-Are you sure?
-Yes.
-Really?
-Yes.
-.........Are you sure?
-YES.

More mumbling. Growing concern. Then they put the sheet in front of me and called Ryan and got ready to start. My heart started to pound wondering if they had heard me correctly when I said YES I CAN FEEL THAT. With the sheet up in front of my face, I couldn't see who or what was happening but suddenly felt something sharp and not ok. I shouted I CAN FEEL SOMETHING SHARP. Suddenly everyone froze and someone behind the sheet said "we're going to need to do another epidural."

And so it was. Three nurses worked to sit me up on the operating table while I assumed the hunched over position with legs I couldn't feel, an abdomen I COULD feel and a growing fear. Once the first epidural was removed and the second one was in place the whole scenario started again.

-Do you feel this?
-Yes.
-How about this?
-Yes.
-Ok. (long awkward concerned pause) How about this?
-YES. I CAN FEEL THAT.
-...............

After some moments of hushed conversation over my head, the sheet went back up, Ryan was invited back in and everyone got ready for the big show. Suddenly I yelled I CAN FEEL SOMETHING SHARP. SOMETHING SHARP.

At that point a second anesthesiologist was called in and more discussion was had while I laid naked and afraid in a room full of irritated people. I was propped up once more and given a spinal - moments later I felt like someone was standing on top of my rib cage and then I heard the best sound I've ever heard in my life...my son's cry.

He was here. He was breathing. He was HERE.

Illingworth Manor Plus One

It's my birthday today. I'm 35 and I got the greatest birthday present ever.



















There's so much to say that I cannot find the words or the energy as this little guy loves to party all night. The birth is another story for another day (read: dramatic) but Harry is simply amazing. He's the best thing that's ever happened to us and we are instantly in love. So here's to the greatest birthday I've ever had!

Right Now

Harry is arriving at 9am tomorrow morning.

It's impossible to verbalize this moment. I'm terrified and at peace. Anxious and excited. Scared and worried. Happy. Delirious. Overjoyed about meeting my son - someone I've wanted to meet for so many years. Hopeful. Tired. Ready and so not ready. It's a moment I've looked forward to for so long and yet a moment I cannot describe. It's unnerving. Everyone says SLEEP! but how can I sleep at a moment like this?

Typical Day

8:00am - Wake up so I can check my blood sugar (ouch!), give myself two different insulin shots and eat a diabetic approved breakfast.

8:30am - Drop off Ryan's car at the shop for what will surely be an expensive repair.

10:00am - Sit on the couch to rest after taking a shower, feel lightheaded and weird.

10:30am - Check blood sugar (ouch!) and see that it's surprisingly low. No wonder I feel lightheaded and weird.

10:31am - Eat a diabetic approved morning snack.

10:35am - Drive downtown for appointment with specialist.

11:15am - Check in and wait while listening to the extremely loud staff talk about their lunch choices.

11:30am - Ultrasound. Harry is perfect and adorable. See him wiggle and practice breathing and move his lips. See his heart beating. Ask him politely to COME OUT ALREADY.

11:50am - Move to exam room and wait for doctor.

12:10pm - Wait.

12:20pm - Wait. Hope doctor hurries as blood sugar drops.

12:30pm - Wait.

12:40pm - Nurse says there's a problem with another patient and the doctor may be a while. Decide to leave as lunch is way past due.

12:45pm - Listen to voicemail from company HR department letting me know I will not be getting a paycheck on Friday if the insurance drama is not worked out quickly.

12:46pm - Freak out.

1:10pm - Check blood sugar (ouch!) and freak out again as it's WAY too low.

1:11pm - Chug milk and shove diabetic approved food in my mouth so I don't pass out. Talk to Ryan about what we should do about the insurance situation.

1:40pm - Call specialist to work out insurance. Find out specialist cannot recommend time off, it must come from OB. Sigh loudly as OB hasn't been involved in the time off discussion, only the specialist. Think about car bill and hospital bill and feel yet another freak out approaching.

1:50pm - Drive down the interstate discussing money/time off options when suddenly an SUV slams into the back of another SUV three feet from us. Ryan slams on the breaks. Car behind us swerves and a semi-truck comes within inches of our car. And us. And our baby.

1:50pm - FREAK. OUT.

Rest of the Day: Doesn't matter as I'm wrapped in a cloud of "we almost died" and "the baby!!" and "OHMYWORD".

And yes, this is how I spend my "stress free" days off from work so that my baby will be ok.

Call Your Doctor

Disclaimer: This post is not to say that I don't love and respect the medical community because I do appreciate all the help I've received lately, just that sometimes their methods make me Real Housewives of New York crazy. Ramona, specifically. Please read as such.

These days, I see a minimum of four medical professionals a week. That may not sound like a lot so let me break it down for you. Once a week I go to my OBGYN office where I will see one of six doctors and their specific nurse. I have questions every week and and every week I see someone different or new. Sometimes I wonder if they ever talk to each other. I'm starting to suspect they do not. Also, once a week I go to the specialist and see one of three ultrasound techs and one of three doctors. I also have loads of questions for them and they also all say something different. I'm thinking of introducing them to each other. One doctor will totally stress me out with worse case news and the next will act as if my condition is so fine it's laughable. As if I'm not on a roller coaster of emotions already. "The Sugars are DANGEROUSLY HIGH!!! SOUND THE ALARM!!!" or "The Sugars aren't so bad, I've seen way worse. You're fine." Well which is it?

And ok, they all give (generally) sound advice that (generally) matches up with what the other ones say. But. I have been pregnant for 103 weeks and I have LOTS of questions about how this is all gonna go down and some of them say "it'll be fine" and some of them say "this could be serious" and some of them say "don't be silly" and some of them say "wait, you're having a baby?" And I haven't even mentioned all the advice/info I got from nurses in the hospital. I should have kept tape recordings of every doctor visit so I could compare and contrast. Also so my head could explode.

From what I can currently deduce from all the info we've gotten thus far, Harry is doing splendid and should be making an arrival soon. But we have an appointment with the specialist tomorrow so that could all change depending on who we see and what mood they are in. Wheeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!

The Count Would Love This Post

6 - Number of times a day Minnie asks for a belly scratch
3,602 - Number of times per day you will hear the word "space" on HGTV
11 - Number of times per day I stick myself with some sort of needle
35.5 - Number of weeks Baby Harry has been growing
40 - Number of pounds of peanut butter I've been required to eat in the last few weeks
41 - Number of gallons of milk I've been required to drink in the last few weeks
0 - Number of teams I'm pulling for in the Amazing Race finale
2 - Number of flower deliveries I've received this week
17 - Number of six packs of Activia yogurt lady at Target bought today while telling the clerk and anyone within earshot about her digestive issues. Also, she doesn't live off the government thankyouverymuch
16 - Number of pounds I've gained with this pregnancy
1,350 - Number of diaper wipes in Harry's room