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!!!

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!!

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 was....in 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.....

This is Life

So the last few days....yeah, they've been less than ideal.  We'd been looking forward to a long weekend with Kris at home.  Big plans.  Big as in running errands as a family, going to the pool, eating out, etc.  We're crazy like that.

But all it takes is one mean stomach bug to kill the crazy.

I'll try to spare all the details, but it began Saturday morning.  I woke up feeling yuk.  I figured it was just the migraine I was recovering from.  I got over it by the afternoon, though.  I hadn't eaten anything all day, and all that sounded good to me was a Whataburger milkshake.  That can cure close to anything.  Sadie went for the ride and got one also.  She couldn't drink too much by the time we got home because it was too frozen.  We walk in the back door, she put her milkshake down, said no thank you, and threw up.  Nice.  She seemed totally fine leading up to that and immediately following.  hhhmmm....I thought that maybe she had just choked, gagged, something to make her throw up.  Wrong.

We'd been having yard work done all day, and one of the guys came to the front door to ask me something.  I was holding Harrison at the time who was screaming about something.  I had stepped outside and closed the door to keep the dog from escaping.  Then Sadie opened the door, shirt off, mumbled something, and puked out the door....landing at the guy's feet.  Possibly even getting on his shoes.  Sorry, dude.  He was like - oh, she's sick, we'll take care of it (it being the question he was asking, not the puke, unfortunately).  Then she threw up again.  I wanted to do the same.  Harrison was still crying, she started crying, and I had a big mess on my hands.

The next few days get all jumbled in my memory because, well, vomit will do that to you.  Then it was the fever.  And "the other".  And our crazy fun weekend plans went down the drain.

To sum things up....

If she isn't asleep, this is the expression she's kept on her face since Saturday.

I know these bugs just have to run their course, but by yesterday afternoon I thought that it should be better by now.  I called to talk to a nurse.  She said that it has been going on too long and I should bring her in.  I kept hoping she'd wake up this morning all better so I could cancel the appointment.  No such luck.  I took her to the doc, and what did she say?  It just has to run its course.  Really?  Thanks, nurse, for telling me to come in.  Wonder how much that one line of advice cost me?  

She fell asleep on the way home, took a long nap, still refuses to drink Pedialyte or Gatorade, hasn't eaten more than a few crackers in a few days.....so what do I do?  I continue to sit and hold her, let her be a baby and milk this sickness.  I mean, she's going to be three next week.  I can't sit and hold her forever, might as well take advantage while I can.  Even if she is sick.  So while I sit and hold her, I let Harrison do this:

Who says tv is bad for kids?  Well, maybe it is.  But it sure is good for mommy!

So, life goes on.  And so does the constant disinfecting of our home.  

The People

Sadie has never been a good sleeper.  We all know that.  But a few months ago, it was getting really bad.  Sadie, what's wrong?  Why do you not like your room?  The people.  The people in my room.  What people?  The boy.  The boy wake me up.

So I just figured she'd had a bad dream.

It continued....Kris or I have to get in bed with her until she falls asleep, sneak out, only to wake up to her screams a few hours later.  The people scare me!  The people wake me up!

Recurring dream?

It has gotten so bad that she doesn't even want to nap in her room.  She has been napping on my bed or the guest bed in Harrison's room.  I've been like - whatever, I'm not fighting this battle.  As long as she's napping, she can nap wherever she wants.  But at night, she's staying in HER bed!

We have asked more about "the people".  It never changes, she says that it's a boy.  A big boy or a little boy?  She says it's a boy like Evan (my four year old nephew).  What does the boy do?  He scare me.  He spray water on me and scare me.

A few weeks ago my mom came to visit.  She stayed in Harrison's room in the guest bed, Sadie in her own bed.  As usual, we had to go to Sadie's rescue in the night.  The next morning, my mom asked why we sat up talking in the living room after getting Sadie.  We didn't, we took her straight to our bed with us.  She said she could have sworn she heard talking.  hhhmmmm.....

Then this past weekend we went to my parents' house.  Sadie slept with my parents.  Mom told me that Sadie didn't move a muscle and slept all night.  Without any questioning, Sadie told me - I slept so good, no people come to TyTy's house.  The people stay outside and don't come scare me.  Again, hhmmmm......

The past two nights, we let Sadie sleep in the guest bed and put Harrison in her room.  She has slept all night!  Well, she made it to 4:30 the first night and 6:30 this morning.  I consider that a good night.  So this morning she told me - no people come in Harrison's room and scare me, I had good night.

This is beginning to creep me out a bit.  Or a lot.  I wonder if 1-800-GHOSTBUSTERS is a working number.

Be Still My Heart

Things that make my heart skip a beat:

My man and my girl

My men

Going outside and finding Sadie singing If You're Happy and You Know It with Harrison while doing the hand motions for him.

And yes, yellow bunny Peeps.  Not any of those weird purple or blue colors out there, and only the bunnies will do.  Please, no chicks.  Yellow Peeps, people!

At It Again

If you've kept up with my blog for a while, like a long while, you might recall my adventures in Jazzercise.    I really did enjoy the class.  Until my pregnancy with Harrison.  No way could I continue to go.  I would be running to the bathroom every eight counts to...you know.  Do what women do who have extreme morning sickness.  Anyway, that was the end of my Jazzercise career.  For a while anyway.

Harrison is here, he's seven months old now (eek!  How did that happen?), and I still have lots of Harrison fat all over my body.  So, it was time to join up again.  I've decided that it's best for me to join a class, or else I'd get on a treadmill or some other sort of machine, and once I broke a sweat decide that I'm done.  In a class, I'm stuck for a full hour.  An hour of jumping and twisting and "dancing" and sweating.  

Yesterday I went to a class with an instructor I'd never "danced" with before.  Remember Ronnie from Can't Buy Me Love.  Who could forget him?  Remember this? (I just went back and watched this clip, and it's long.  Longer than necessary.  I'm not smart enough to figure out how to only post the section necessary to get my point across.  Nor am I patient enough to research how to do it.  So just the first couple of minutes are all you need to watch.  If you choose to watch at all.  Heck, you might have stopped reading after the first paragraph, so I'm just wasting my breath right now.)

Yeah, that's how I felt.  Except the crowd didn't watch me and want to copy my every move.  I'm just not that cool.