Friday, June 21, 2013

Feeling Old

Last night I had dinner with three dear friends.  We keep in touch through email and texts and voicemail and Facebook.  But last night we actually got to SEE each other.  Live and in person!  It was a great time of catching up.

As we were talking, one friend said that if she had a choice between a million dollars and a full night's sleep in her bed, she'd probably take her bed.  Another said - my bones are creaking!  Someone chimed in with what do you think about Botox?  Well, I was recently told that I had wrinkles around my eyes and mouth, so that might not be a bad idea.  We all dream of going to Target during the day.  Alone.  With makeup on.  Our bodies are going south.  I spoke up - girls, we're not THAT old.

But today I felt it.  At least a little bit.  I had to go to the middle of nowhere and my gas light came on.  I found a station with old pumps.  I mean, I was able to use my credit card at the pump, so they weren't THAT old, but....anyway.  I took off the gas cap and could not get the nozzle in.  At all.  I tried.  And tried.  And bent over to look in for a better look.  What is wrong with this thing?  I put the gas cap back in, canceled my transaction.  Then I tried again.  I'm going to figure this thing out!  There were two men at a pump near me who were probably being entertained.  I came close to asking for help.  Then I realized I had the diesel pump nozzle thing.  Hhmmm...who knew they were different sizes.  Good thing they are!  So yeah, I felt old and dumb.

Then I went to Old Navy.  The shorts are all too short.  The dresses are too thin and clingy.  Who wants to wear a strapless bra with those shirts with weird straps and cutouts?  But that's not what made me feel old.  It was the music.  Oh my gosh, the music.  Not only did I not understand it, but it was loud.  Annoyingly loud.  So loud that it was making me very anxious and almost jittery and tempted to ask someone to check the volume.  Why must it be so loud?!  Not that I want Kenny G being piped in for my listening pleasure.  I don't even care if I could understand the music, just turn it down!!!  I thought - get me out of here, I'm too old for this!

So yeah, I might not be that old.  But I sure am feeling it.

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Seven Whole Years

Kris measures our marriage in dog years, so actually it could read Thirty-five Whole Years.  Anyway.... ok, I started thinking about this after I posted it originally, and I promise I know how to multiply.  It should be Forty-nine Whole Years, not Thirty-five.  Wow.  That's embarrassing.  ha!

Yesterday was our wedding anniversary.  Aawwww, you might say.  Yeah, it was spent taking care of a sick little boy.  Romantic, huh?  And according to my Timehop app, last year's anniversary was spent taking care of a sick little girl.  Good grief.

A few months ago I mentioned here that you should hear my wedding story.  Since yesterday was our anniversary, I thought it was time to share.

As in typical Traci fashion when it comes to the dramatics during major life events, I didn't fail myself in the least for my wedding.

I love weddings and everything about them.  Always have.  My grandmother made wedding cakes, directed and catered wedding, she was a jack of all trades.  I tagged along to who knows how many weddings starting at a very young age.  I would dream about my wedding - the dress, the cake, the ceremony, the flowers, etc., etc.

I finally had everything I needed for a wedding.  I couldn't wait for school to be out so I could go home and do all the last minute wedding stuff - exciting times!

The Tuesday before my wedding, I wasn't feeling so great.  Nerves?  Excitement?  Surely I wasn't getting sick.  Then something hit me on Wednesday.  Full force.  By Thursday I was throwing up.  I'm being completely honest when I say I hadn't thrown up in years.  Many years.  But of course I had to break that record the week of my wedding.  I remember vividly lying on my parents' couch and couldn't get up in time before I started losing whatever was in my stomach.  I called my dad crying and said that I just couldn't stop throwing up and couldn't make it to the bathroom or outside.  Sweet daddy came back to the house as quickly as he could to clean up my mess and help take care of me.

There is just something wrong with this picture.  I was supposed to be enjoying my wedding week.  I had things to do!  Mom was getting to do all the fun stuff without me!  Kris and his parents arrived on Thursday.  They all had a nice dinner together while I was miserable.  I wanted to lose weight before my wedding, but that's not how it should be done.

Friday afternoon, I had to pull myself together and find the strength to go to the rehearsal and dinner.  I made it, but I couldn't eat.  I just sat staring at a plate of fajitas wishing I could eat something.

My friend and I stayed in a hotel that Friday night.  That's the wild and crazy thing to do in Carthage - stay in a hotel on the loop rather than at your parents' house the night before you get married.  I woke up on the morning of my wedding, and I was ravenous!  And what was the only thing that would satisfy my extreme hunger?  Popcorn chicken from Sonic.  I left a note next to my sleeping friend and went to Sonic.  Classy, huh?  I felt much better.

Fast forward a few hours.....getting ready at the church.  I notice that mom and some others were sort of whispering.  Finally they broke the news.  My dad was sick.  Remember how I said he was having to clean up my mess?  Yeah, his turn now.  On my wedding day!  My mom asked me if I'd rather have my brother or Pops walk me down the aisle.  What?!  No, this isn't happening!  Thankfully, though, daddy (very weakly) was able to walk me to my groom.  But that's about it.  The ceremony hadn't been going on very long when I caught a glimpse of him leaving.  He came back into the church just before we were pronounced husband and wife.  We took some pictures after the ceremony, and that was the last I saw of my dad that day.

In the chaos of more pictures and getting to the reception, I didn't realize that my brother left with my dad.  He had to drive him home and get him in bed.  By the time my brother made it back to the reception, it was almost over.

aaaahhhhh!!!  Did anything go as planned?  I look back at my wedding and sort of laugh.  Did I get to have a fun wedding week?  No.  Did the reception get set up as I wanted it to?  Not exactly.  Did my dad get to enjoy the day?  No.  But did I marry the man God made for me?  Yes.  That's all that matters.

So, here's to seven thirty-five more wonderful years!  Make that Forty-Nine!!!

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Three Years Ago

Yesterday I filled you in bored you with my labor story, so this is part two for those of you who've been so anxiously waiting.....

OK, so pitocin, contractions, epidural, check check check.  I went from 0 to 9 pretty quickly.  By now everyone has gathered at the hospital - my parents, Kris's parents, my brother and his family.  Everyone was in and out of the room, all is going as it should.

It was almost midnight when it was time to push.  I pushed.  And pushed.  And pushed some more.  I was beginning to think that the nurse thought I was some wimp and didn't know how to push.  But believe me, I was giving it my all.  Then it was determined that the baby's head was turned to the side.  Yeah, that wasn't going to work.

As my luck would have it, my doctor had jury duty so wasn't on call.  That was disappointing.  But an older doctor (who we found out was one of the top dogs at the hospital) was there to help me out.  Around 1:15 a.m., the doc said that our options were either a c-section or forceps.  He was sure to add that "I'm really good with forceps.".  Kris said - well, go get them!  I guess I didn't have a say in the situation.

(Before all the pushing began, I made it clear that I didn't want the baby put on my chest right after he/she was born.  I wanted him/her cleaned up before I held him/her.  I know, where's my love, right?) There were about 23 people in the delivery room by this time.  At least that's what it felt like to me.  This doctor didn't know me.  I didn't know him.  It was not awkward at all.  Forceps ready, one push, I hear Kris saying "oh my goodness, oh my goodness", and the baby was here!

I never wanted to know the sex of the baby.  Ever.  I've always wanted that exciting moment when the doctor announces - it's a boy!  Or it's a girl!  Well, this stranger who just delivered my baby didn't know that.  I'm crying.  Kris has left my side.  They (all 23 of those people in my room) were working on me.  After I calm down enough to audibly and clearly speak, I ask - what is it?  And the doc replies all nonchalantly and matter of factly - it's a girl.  Oh.  Ok.  So there's that anticlimactic moment I'd been waiting for all my life.

I quickly got over it, because...I had a girl!  A baby!  A child I'd been dreaming of all my life and prayed for for so many years.  My precious, bruised, answered prayer, looks exactly like her daddy Sadie Anne.

And life has never been the same.  What a joy!!

Monday, June 3, 2013

Thinking Back.....

(I have one loyal reader who is always telling me to blog more.  Loyal Reader, this is for you.)

Has it really been three years?  Wow.  It has.  Sadie's birthday is tomorrow.  So, on the eve of her big day, I'm thinking back to what happened on June 3, 2010.

I guess I should go back a bit further than that.  A few weeks leading up to my due date at one of my appointments, the doc said that something "didn't feel right", so she sent me to have an ultrasound.  That worried me a bit, especially since I was at the appointment alone.  Everything was fine, but the next week Kris went with me to my appointment.  This time, my blood pressure was pretty high.  She sent me straight to the hospital with the words - we might be having a baby today.  Got to the hospital, hooked up, Kris ran home to get my suitcase, came back, they dismissed me.  I was fine.  The next week, she wanted me to have another ultrasound - we might be having a baby today.  Kris was with me, but once again, everything was fine.

The following week, I told Kris not to take off work again.  I was like - you know the track record, no need to come with me, but if it will make you feel better, your mom can come along.  A few days before the appointment, my mom was with me helping me around the house.  She went back home on a Tuesday.  On that Thursday, the 3rd, I had plans for Kris's mom to help me shop.  I wanted to get some essentials stocked at the house....milk, bread, detergent, toilet paper, you know, important stuff.  So we shopped.  We then met Kris's dad for lunch.  As we were leaving and telling him goodbye, I laughed and said - I'll see you at the hospital tonight!  Little did I know that I am a prophetess of some sort.

We came home to drop off all the goods before getting right back out for my appointment.  I ran to the bathroom before leaving.  Something was kind of weird, but everything is weird when you're pregnant, so I dismissed it.

I park on the top level of the parking garage, get out of the car, and....what was that?  Walk to the elevator, and I mumbled to my mother-in-law - I think my water just broke.  Uhm, yeah, by the time I get on the elevator with a bunch of people.  Great.  Then I start crying.  From embarrassment.  My MIL was like - you can't see anything.  Seriously?  My pants are soaked.  And it wouldn't stop!  I quickly made it to the bathroom in the lobby area of my doctor's building.  So I'm calling the nurse from a bathroom stall - my water just broke, do I come to the office or go on to the hospital.  She asked where I the bathroom downstairs!  She told me to come on up to get checked.

(are you bored yet?  or disgusted?  I feel like this is very boring so far.)

On the elevator I called Kris and sent my mom a text.  Kris asked - do I need to leave work now?  Did he really have to ask?  Upstairs, there is a line to check in.  Of course there's a line as I'm standing there soaked and crying.  Why did I wait my turn?  It's finally my turn, I get up to the counter, and the lady said - can you hold on a minute?  aaahhhh!!  I did hold on for a few seconds before speaking up - my water just broke.  She jumped up and said - oh, honey!  Rushed back to a room, the doc came in and asked me if I was sure that was what happened.  Yep, no doubt.  She wanted to check anyway.  Oh, come on!

As I'd told her, it was my water, so she told me to go on to the hospital.  I figured that surely they had some sort of underground tunnel to transport such patients as me from the offices to the hospital (everything is on the same "campus").  Or at least a golf cart.  Or clean/dry clothes.  Nope.  She told me that if anyone sees a pregnant lady around that area with wet pants, they know what has happened and I shouldn't be embarrassed.  Easy for her to say.

I walk to the hospital, they got me in a room, Kris and my parents were on their way.....contractions still hadn't started, so they started me on pitocin.  It didn't take long for them to kick in after that.  And it didn't take long after that for me to cry "uncle" and get an epidural.  So now we wait.

To be continued.....