So many random things running through my mind. Where do I begin?
It's hard to wrap my brain around the fact that one year ago this morning I got out of bed and thought - something doesn't feel right. I think this is it. I woke Kris and told him to get ready, today was baby day. It only took a few minutes for contractions to set in. Blah blah blah, Harrison showed up after midnight.
I'm not a pretty pregnant girl. And I'm not a pretty just gave birth 24 hours or so ago girl. So when Princess Kate made her appearance a couple of hours ago looking all beautiful and glowy and not swollen, I thought - yeah, she's a princess alright. Who else can look that great the day after giving birth. (actually, I know a couple of girls like that. So not fair.) And then I flash back to my fascination with Princes Di. And my crush on Prince William. I sure thought he was a cutie.
Wow, I am so rambling.
This morning I woke up planning on going to Jazzercise. However, my kids decided to actually sleep late this morning. So late that I gave up on the idea of making it to the gym in time for my class. About fifteen minutes before it was to begin, I look outside, and there are my in-laws. What are they doing here? This wasn't planned. Surprise! They said that I knew they were coming. Wrong. Whatever, it gave me an opportunity to go to the gym after all!
Drill Sergeant was the instructor today, so I always feel like I get a really good workout when she's in the lead. I came home sweaty. In-laws left, Sadie was hungry. What was I craving? A pretzel dog from Sonic! Boy, they have good marketing people. I've been wanting to try one ever since seeing the first commercial advertising them. So, we loaded up and headed to Sonic. (which isn't in the most convenient location, by the way. But when you crave a pretzel dog....) I mean, I had a good workout thanks to Drill Sergeant, didn't I? I can afford a trip to Sonic.
Little did I know that today was National Hot Dog Day and Sonic would be offering $1 chili cheese dogs. Who knew so many people would know about this day and be lined up? I place my order, the girl repeated it, then a long pause.......I'm sorry, we're out of pretzel buns. Can we make your pretzel dog with a regular hot dog bun? Are you serious? Then it's NOT a pretzel dog anymore. ggggrrrrr!!!!! I told her to cancel the whole order and I was going to start over. I did end up with a $1 dog, though. But not what my taste buds were set for.
Anyway....all of that to say....Happy Birthday yesterday, Prince XYZ. Almost Happy Birthday, Harrison. And Happy National Hot Dog Day, Nation! Everyone go out and eat some cake and a hot dog. Bon Appetit!
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Am I On Candid Camera?
I love getting pedicures. For several reasons. I like the little foot and leg massage that go along with it. I like the way my feet look and feel when they're finished. I don't like feet, even my own, so it's best that someone else (poor ladies) deal with them. It never fails that I get comments like - you need deluxe. You feet very dry. You need wear shoes and socks. I know. I know. I know. I have dry yucky feet and heels.
Kris is not a fan of my feet either. So today I finally went to see a dermatologist about them. Kris got a recommendation from a co-worker for this particular doctor. The recommendation came with a sort of "warning"....that this doc was old school. Doesn't even take insurance - come prepared with cash or check. Uhm, the old school comment, that was an understatement.
I walk into the office and am hit in the face with a smell. The smell of an antique store? Your great-grandfather's house? Interesting. Then I try to take in my surroundings. Wood paneling. In a doctor's office? Old dishes and candlesticks on top of (I'm sitting here trying to think of what they were on top of) old pieces of furniture. There was a big glass case or something right in front of the receptionist's window that you had to lean way over to sign in. Oh, and the receptionist. A bit ghetto, maybe? Talking to the kid playing with puzzles on the floor next to her chair.
I sign in and hear a nasty rattling cough. Yeah, that was coming from the 89 year old lady in a corner working on files. I take my seat in a rickety chair to fill out my new patient paperwork as I watch the lady and young girl in the waiting living room (not a waiting room, not a living room, a sort of combo) eat their Handi Snacks. Where am I?! Should I run now?
I hear my name called. I look up to find the doctor. Oh, but you see, this wasn't just any ol' doctor. This was a man who might weigh 95 pounds soaking wet with his stained white Wrangler jeans on. Take off his black cowboy boots and he might only weigh 90 pounds. I follow him into a room while checking out his denim Wrangler shirt. He told me to have a seat, he sat across from me. And that's when I had a hard time focusing on anything other than his eyebrows. His Andy Rooney eyebrows. And his out of control hair. And his black teeth.
This is a joke. Right? This MUST be a joke.
What brings you in today? My heels. He puts on his chemist safety goggle-like glasses to take a look. Oh, come on. They're not THAT bad. It was a very quick look before he started telling me of the prescription he was going to give me for some sort of acid. Yeah, acid. Maybe my heels are that bad.
He's writing out my Rx. I'm checking out more old dishes and candlesticks in the room. And all I can say is - I like all your collections.
Prescription in hand, I go back to write my check for the visit. The receptionist had to first stop talking to the lady behind the counter bottle feeding her baby to tell me the amount. I quickly wrote my check and almost tripped over what I could have sworn was a camera on my way out.
Yeah, I was on Candid Camera. Surely I was.
(Oh, and he told me to call back in a month to let him know that everything is perfect. I'm almost positive he won't be getting a call back from me. I wonder if he still uses a rotary phone....)
Kris is not a fan of my feet either. So today I finally went to see a dermatologist about them. Kris got a recommendation from a co-worker for this particular doctor. The recommendation came with a sort of "warning"....that this doc was old school. Doesn't even take insurance - come prepared with cash or check. Uhm, the old school comment, that was an understatement.
I walk into the office and am hit in the face with a smell. The smell of an antique store? Your great-grandfather's house? Interesting. Then I try to take in my surroundings. Wood paneling. In a doctor's office? Old dishes and candlesticks on top of (I'm sitting here trying to think of what they were on top of) old pieces of furniture. There was a big glass case or something right in front of the receptionist's window that you had to lean way over to sign in. Oh, and the receptionist. A bit ghetto, maybe? Talking to the kid playing with puzzles on the floor next to her chair.
I sign in and hear a nasty rattling cough. Yeah, that was coming from the 89 year old lady in a corner working on files. I take my seat in a rickety chair to fill out my new patient paperwork as I watch the lady and young girl in the waiting living room (not a waiting room, not a living room, a sort of combo) eat their Handi Snacks. Where am I?! Should I run now?
I hear my name called. I look up to find the doctor. Oh, but you see, this wasn't just any ol' doctor. This was a man who might weigh 95 pounds soaking wet with his stained white Wrangler jeans on. Take off his black cowboy boots and he might only weigh 90 pounds. I follow him into a room while checking out his denim Wrangler shirt. He told me to have a seat, he sat across from me. And that's when I had a hard time focusing on anything other than his eyebrows. His Andy Rooney eyebrows. And his out of control hair. And his black teeth.
This is a joke. Right? This MUST be a joke.
What brings you in today? My heels. He puts on his chemist safety goggle-like glasses to take a look. Oh, come on. They're not THAT bad. It was a very quick look before he started telling me of the prescription he was going to give me for some sort of acid. Yeah, acid. Maybe my heels are that bad.
He's writing out my Rx. I'm checking out more old dishes and candlesticks in the room. And all I can say is - I like all your collections.
Prescription in hand, I go back to write my check for the visit. The receptionist had to first stop talking to the lady behind the counter bottle feeding her baby to tell me the amount. I quickly wrote my check and almost tripped over what I could have sworn was a camera on my way out.
Yeah, I was on Candid Camera. Surely I was.
(Oh, and he told me to call back in a month to let him know that everything is perfect. I'm almost positive he won't be getting a call back from me. I wonder if he still uses a rotary phone....)
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.
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 toseven thirty-five more wonderful years! Make that Forty-Nine!!!
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
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!!
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 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.....
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.....
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
This is Life
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.
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