First Trimester Saga Part 1

I kissed my first trimester goodbye last week (I think? Gosh, it's sooo much harder to keep track of these things the 2nd time around). Let me tell you. There was no love lost as I shoved it out of my life and slammed the door behind it.

I feel like I've been living in my own universe these past couple of months. Holy Cow. It's been NUTS.

First of all, I am SO SUPER happy to be pregnant, but it was indeed a surprise. I had just started thinking that sometime in the next few months would be a good time to get pregnant, so I had started charting my bbt. Because of the charting and a handy dandy phone app and some breast tingling that felt distinctly like let-down during breastfeeding, I had a pretty clear idea that I was pregnant way before any pregnancy test on the market would verify it as a certainty.

I struggled a bit with it at first because of course a test verified the pregnancy amidst one of Sawyer's few bouts with being totally and completely miserably SICK. He wasn't sleeping well day or night. Mike got banned from our bedroom where I had Sawyer set up in a pack-n-play for the first part of the night, but he inevitably ended up in my bed with me for the 2nd half of the night. This went on way too long, and I spent a couple of those wakeful nights with my sick little man wondering how the f$%# I was going to manage another little tiny person when this one was challenging me quite profoundly as it was.

Then of course, when he got better, the task of breaking him of his horrible sleeping habits ensued. Why would he want to go to bed nicely in his crib when he'd been sleeping happily with his mama for the past week? Smart kid. Miserable mom. It took two weeks of the dreaded "cry it out" method before I got him back to his regular sleeping patterns. That was 3 crazy weeks of my life...

Soon thereafter I sat down one day and felt some slight pain in my tailbone. Hmm. Strange. The next day it was worse. The next worse. And worse. And worse. And HOLY GOD what is wrong with me? I looked it up online and found that many pregnant woman experience tailbone pain/discomfort due to everything shifting around and bla bla bla. Coccidia is what it's called. I couldn't sit down. Sleeping was a nightmare... the only position that was remotely bearable was on my tummy. I was beyond worried that I would have to deal with this pain for the rest of my pregnancy.

Then one day, pus starting coming out. HUH? Back to my handy google. What's this? Pilonidal abscess? An infected cyst? On my tailbone? Around that same time I started spiking fevers. A visit to the doctor was necessary. I went believing that he would drain my cyst and all would be right with the world.  Well, he was unsuccessful. He put me on an antibiotic, gave me some painkillers that I was determined NOT to take (I was freaking out enough about all of the tylenol I had consumed over the past week), and scheduled me for another appointment 2 days later to figure out how we would proceed from there.

The drive home was the most excruciating experience of my life. Now not only did I have an infected cyst but I had a scalpel wound in the same area and I was in PAIN. I actually called Michael SOBBING MY EYES OUT begging him to pick me up and drive me home. But he was right in the midst of some overnight stays at work where he was the only officer present and he said he could not leave. He was really so very sorry, but he could not leave. I still don't know if I've quite forgiven him for that.

When I got home (my guardian angel must've been working triple time during that drive) I took that stupid painkiller - just one. Thanks to it, I somehow managed to take care of my child while I was in the most horriffic pain of my life (worse than childbirth, I really do believe). That night I didn't sleep at all. The pain spiked to unbearable, and I found myself unable to do anything other than lay on my stomach (but I refused to take another painkiller becuase I was so so so scared for the vulernable little one growing in my belly). I called Mike and told him he had to be home the next morning to TAKE ME TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM. Thankfully he got home before Sawyer woke up because I have no idea how I would have taken care of him by myself.

We went to the ER. I was sent to see a surgeon. He successfully drained it. HOLY PAIN. It was disgusting!!!

The healing of a pilonidal abscess is the most important part. The wound has to heal from the inside out, so it is not sewn up. It is left as an open wound (a pocket in your skin) and I was tasked with soaking it twice daily and vigilantly cleaning it by sticking q tips inside the wound. NOT FUN.

It was. CRAZY. I'm all healed up now, but still find sitting flat on my butt for any length of time to be quite uncomfortable. I don't know if it's just going to be this way for the rest of my life or if this is because though the abscess (the infection) is gone, there is supposedly still a cyst there. My surgeon instructed me to come see him after I have my baby... so I can have the cyst surgically removed... I'm really not looking forward to it. (Unless the cyst is removed, I will continue to have recurrences of the abscess for the rest of my life. I just pray I don't have a recurrence again during this pregnancy...cringe.)

In any case... It was a fun little adventure to have at all... let alone to have in the first trimester of pregnancy. The upside was that after all of the pain from the abscess subsided simple nausea from pregnancy was NOTHIN! shoooooot.

That completes My First Trimester Saga Part 1.

Up next... my 8 hour road trip to Florida that commenced a week after my abscess drainage and involved some awesome car trouble....

until then..

The Swamp

To be completely honest, I firmly believe that when we first moved here to South Carolina everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong. The fleas were horriffic, yes, but it was much much more than that. It was driving on long, ugly stretches of nothing and the sinking feeling in my stomach that I really and truly have moved to the middle of absolutely nowhere, the fact that only one of my new neighbors greeted me with kindness (or greeted me at all, actually) and even from her I got the very strong impression that she had more than enough friends thankyouverymuch and really wasn't interested in adding another to her list.

I was even very bold and forced my introverted, nervous in situations where I know no one self to go to an officers' spouses' gathering.  There I put on my biggest smile and forced myself to walk up to complete strangers - many of them - and engage them in conversation. I was looking for 2 very specific things. 1. someone with a child or children in Sawyer's age group AND 2. someone who lives in the same base housing community I do.

I found a couple of people who had kids Sawyer's age. I found no one who lives in my community. In fact, the people I told where I live did not even try to hide their disdain. Apparently, the officers who work on Parris Island do not live in the base housing community I do. *They live on Parris Island (which we tried for, of course, but there was nothing available - so we took what we thought was the next best option).

I don't remember for sure, but I'm pretty sure I left that night and cried a little bit when I got to my car. The event was held in an absolutely stunning house on Parris Island - where it was clear to me that all of the cool kids live. I felt angry. jipped. and frustrated. It seemed that here in this place - this place that I had held such high hopes for - I was starting with all of the chips stacked against me.

I can't tell you that it has gotten a thousand times better since then. I have met people. People in my neighborhood. People associated with Mike's Battalion. Some of the cool kids from Parris Island. None of whom have done what it is that I really need from someone in order to secure a real friendship - reached out. I still have hope, though, for the fledgling friendships I have going.

When people ask me how I like it here -- how my transition was -- I always tell them that it was culture shock. I don't have any better way to describe it. This place is unlike any other. Many military families here make this joke, but it's actually the truth... we live in a swamp. Marshland everywhere. Mosquitoes aplenty. Crocodiles galore. How I'm raising a toddler here and actually willing to go outside where the bugs attack you in swarms I do not know. All I know is he needs to go outside, so we do.  That doesn't mean that I don't daydream daily about the lush, green Pennsylvania grass that does not carry the threat of fireant attacks or the beautiful humidity free weather of San Diego where doors could be left open all day long without worry of bugs infesting your home.

And yes. I'm just going to come out and say it. I miss Target. I so badly miss Target. And Kohls. And shopping malls. I will admit that a Sunday afternoon trip to one of these places was always my mental health therapy and now I have to travel long distances to find something other than Wal-Mart or the absolute worst JC Penney store you could ever imagine.

With all of that said. With all of the total imperfections of this place in which I live, the truth of the matter is... it's really not so bad. Even my neighborhood. I have had a lot of time to look at it through discerning eyes. The cool kids look at this neighborhood with scorn, but it is a perfectly fine place to live. Our house is completely fine - not my dream house, certainly, but not the pits by any means. The fleas, yes, that was absolutely terrible, but they're gone. I kicked their butt thankyouverymuch. Just outside my back door you can walk out onto a fishing pier and watch dolphins jumping from the bay at night. A little Sunday stroll takes you to a small horse stable. The people here are all very normal and nice - though I have not found my best friend amidst this crowd just yet. I still can't understand why that very first night when I met all of those ladies so many of them looked down at me with thinly veiled pity when I told them where I live.

Then there are times, like today, when we were driving through this very strange and interesting area of South Carolina that I really felt very thankful to be living here. Certainly it is my least favorite place the Marine Corps has sent us, but it's different and there is this big part of me that feels very grateful to have had the opportunity to not just see and visit but to actually live in and experience so many different parts of this intricate and beautiful country.

With approximately another year and a half to go here in South Carolina (and very possibly only a year and a half to go as a Marine Corps spouse) I still have high hopes for this place and these people. I hope to make the best of this situation yet.

the bay behind our house at sunset

*for the record this is called the tri-command area, meaning there are 3 military bases in the area. The military housing community in which I live is a military base that consists purely of military housing. Anyone from any 3 bases can live here.  (but apparently the officers from PI choose not to).

Life

Life has been... busy. I got some life changing news - life changing in the very best kind of way. I had a health setback. Sawyer and I endeavored upon a long road trip to visit with my friends. Thanks to some car trouble and the aforementioned health setback and the life changing news - the trip was very eventful - not necesserily in the best kind of ways. In the midst of it all, Mike continued to work his ridiculous hours as a series commander here on Parris Island, SC.

Things seem to be settling down now. Mike's recruits graduated, so he has some downtime. My health setback is mostly resolved. Car troubles on the road are already turning into long lost memories...

...and now I have some time to focus on my news.

We are having another baby. Due at the end of October. I am scared. So scared. But happy. So happy. At first I was filled with mostly fears... trying desperately to figure out the logistics of how to care for two very young kids at the same time. Now I know that I will do it just the way I have figured out how to be a mother to Sawyer. Day by day. I will make mistakes, surely. I will have tears and heartaches and moments where I want to kick myself for being so STUPID... but my heart will burst with double the love, my face will surely hurt from all of the smiles... and the joy. Oh man. I will be overflowing with joy.

Now that you know my news, and I have had a chance to take a long, deep breath I will be back soon to regale you with my tales of my medical unpleasantness, my adventures on the road with a little one, and my incredible little boy who amazes me at every turn.

Until then...

Christmas, Rats, Promotions, and Poison Ivy. Oh My!

I know it's been forever since I've posted. I've been toying with the idea of abandoning Sorry Sarah and getting a fresh start somewhere else... but then that seems like a heck of a lot of work when everything is already here, so I don't know.  Until I make my final decision on the subject you get at least one more post from Sorry Sarah and here it goes:

I realize there are about 50 million things I need to update you on. I'll start with Christmas. It was fine. I spent it with Mike's parents. We had Arbys on Christmas Eve and instant mashed potatoes on Christmas Day, but whatev. I'm slowly learning that the world will not collapse into tiny pieces around me if I do not have the perfect meal on every important occasion. We went to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter which I realized at some point before going is not, in fact, its own theme park but a part of a theme park inside of Universal Studios Island of Adventure. It was kind of cool, but really it was a disappointment. The whole time we were there Mike and his sister were re-designing the park and coming up with the most fabulous ideas to make it better. The butterbeer was absolutely delicious, and it was super cool to walk the streets of Hogsmeade AND I am really glad I went, but it really wasn't everything I hoped it would be... sigh. Those darn expectations got to me again!

Other than that life has been fairly crazy. The rats are back in the garage of our house in San Diego and  are sucking more time and money from our lives. It's freaking ridiculous, really. They. Will. Not. DIE. Our rental company's extermination company assessed the situation and recommended that we trim the thousands of palm trees around our house as the dying palms are breeding grounds for the rats apparently. We decided to just chop the 5 main offenders down, because it wasn't that much more expensive and do you know how much I have hated those stupid palm trees? I have been complaining about them for 5 years! They create so much nastiness inside of our pool and backyard, and I can't believe that now that we don't live there anymore we're finally rid of them. In any case, the trees are gone, there are traps throughout the garage, but those stupid vermin will not die and our renters keep calling and complaining that the rats are eating all of their stuff in the garage. I feel for them, I really do. I feel for me, too. Die, rats, die!

And probably the most prevalent thing.. the one that has changed the course of life as we thought we knew it.... Michael got a call a week before Christmas saying that he had been passed over for major.  He thought it was a mistake at first because last time he checked he wasn't even up for promotion until December of 2012, but the joke was on us because apparently in an effort to greatly reduce the size of the armed forces(have you heard about those military budget cuts? Yep? They affected real people! us!), they looked at a much larger pool of people than normal and Michael was indeed up for major and indeed was passed over. The big question in our lives was finally answered, and it did not go the way we had hoped. He still has another chance... next year... but chances are slim, so we are forced to quickly reassess our "plan". Sometimes I think it's one of those blessings in disguise, because, holy cow... you mean... when you're not in the military you get to choose where you want to live? What a novel idea! Then, at the same time, we're both pretty scared because we owe an ungodly amount of money on a house in San Diego that we cannot get rid of because we bought at the worst time and it's not worth what we owe anymore. Not by a longshot. I looked into Obama's Making Home Affordable programs, of which there are many, and though we are seemingly prime candidates for these programs there's this little thing where if you are renting out the property it is now considered an investment property and you are no longer qualified for any of those programs. Nowhere in the fine lines is there anything pertaining to a situation like ours: HELLO, we aren't making any money on that house. We are simply renting it out because the military said we had to move and we couldn't afford to sell it. Wa. Wa. WAAAAH.

That's the short version of what's been going on with me lately. Good times, eh?

On the bright side, Sawyer is awesome and the weather here in South Carolina this time of year is to die for. Sawyer and I have even been going over to the park every day (I think we stumbled upon some poison ivy today, though, and I'm totally freaking out about it and praying that we don't erupt into horrific itchy rashes.. maybe it was some other weed with leaves of 3... I can only hope)

Good times, indeed.

12 Month Check-up

Yesterday was Sawyer's 12 month check-up, and I was pretty nervous about it.

The only thing I was worried about was those dreaded percentiles, but as soon as we got in there we were handed a form to answer with all kinds of questions about what Sawyer is and isn't doing. Many of the questions we had never tried... or even thought of trying with him.  I suddenly felt like I was being given a pop quiz and was failing miserably.

That only caused my tension to rise. 

When the doc finally made his way into the examination room, he shocked the heck out of me. Sawyer now sits firmly at the 55th percentile for weight and the 48th percentile for height. WAHOO! YIPPEE! HALLELUJAH! I told the doctor how shocked I was, and he offered to re-weigh and measure Sawyer.  No thank you, I responded. I will take those stats and run gleefully away with them.

He shocked me again when he asked if Sawyer was identifying Michael and me specifically as "mama" and "dada".  He's been saying those syllables (along with many others) for months and months now, but neither of us have ever noticed him using those words to refer to us. 

Hmm..
the doctor said.

Then he said if it was ok with us, he was going to refer us to have a free speech evaluation done for Sawyer. 

huh?

My little boy who literally babbles all the day long and never stops "talking" needs a speech evaluation? really? for realz? 

I accepted the offer, though, because it's free and it isn't going to hurt anything. He said they will probably just give us some suggestions for exercises we can do with him.

It is official now, though, that Sawyer does in fact have the most hyper-vigilant doctor in the world... and I'm just fine with that.

We Have Arrived



How did we get here?





When this is where we started...



I look back on this year, (yes. it has been a whole year!) and I honestly can't answer that question. I should be an expert... or at least have some sage advice to pass along... but that is not the case.

Don't ask me how to get a baby to sleep through the night, because mine just started doing it all on his very own at a very early age. very early.

Don't ask me how to get a baby comfortable sleeping in his crib after sleeping in a bassinet next to your bed for 6 months, because my little guy made that transition without a hiccup.

Don't ask me how to teach a baby to put himself to sleep, because after much trial and error I cannot tell you what finally worked. In fact, I think he just decided to put himself to sleep in his crib when he was ready and that was a random day after trial and error #12,548,227.

Don't ask me how to transition a baby from breast to bottle or from breast milk to formula because he didn't seem to notice. Don't ask me how to get a baby to be content in his stroller, on long car rides, in a high chair at a restaurant... because these are all things that Sawyer just did.

Don't ask me how to teach a baby to roll over, crawl, cruise, or walk... Sawyer did all of these on his own when he felt like it and not a moment before.

Don't even ask me how to teach a baby to wave, bop to music, or mimic sounds... this guy has recently amazed me by just suddenly doing each of these things with little guidance or urging.

I do not know how we got here to this moment in time where my little baby is an entire year old.  All I know is that we are here, we have arrived seemingly unscathed, and I am in awe of the wonder of life that is my little boy.

(and this post is almost a week late as Sawyer's 1st birthday was on December 6. I think he will understand, though, as he is no stranger to being late.)

Flying the Friendly Skies

Sawyer and I ended up going to Pennsylvania for Thanksgiving alone, afterall. After all of my planning, and fretting, and then assurances that Michael would have the time off... in the end, he did not. So we went alone. I was pretty nervous about this. It was mostly the logisitcs of it all that had me lying eyes wide open all night, the night before the flight.

Thankfully, I had flown two other times with Sawyer (with someone else to help me, mind you), so I was able to mentally prepare myself for every aspect of maneuvering through the airport and airplane with a baby and anticipate any hurdles I might come across. I must pat myself on the back because thanks to my magnificent planning, getting through the airport, security, and on and off planes was no sweat at all.

My only real setback was finding an available handicapped stall that would fit both me and my baby-in-a-stroller.  It seems, I have found out, that people who are going to spend a lot of time in a public restroom stall (*ahem. I think you know what I'm saying) tend to choose the handicapped stall in which to do so.  In my efforts to be timely, I found myself walking into and out of several different mostly empty bathrooms before finding one with a stall that was availalbe for us to fit in. In the past, I always avoided the handicap stall out of courtesy, and now I am proud of myself for having done so. If you are a handicap stall avoider like me, I thank you. It really is important to the person who can only use that specific stall that it not be needlessly occupied.

These days it has become increasingly apparent to me that I have the best baby in the world. His easy going personality and good humor made my life a million times easier while navigating the joys of public transportation alone with him.  I was sweating buckets and feeling quite overwhelmed as it was. I can only imagine how I would have felt had I been traveling with a fussy baby. I think I would have had to chug a bottle of wine after landing had that been the case.

On the plane trip going north, I don't think I had a single person offer to lend me a hand. On the plane trip going south I had someone offering his aid at every turn: going through security, gate checking my stroller, I even had a man sitting next to me on the plane who offered to hold Sawyer several times throughout the flight just to give me a break (since I took him as a "lap infant" this time, and even though he was a perfect angel, he was a squirmy perfect angel and it was a challenge wrangling him at times). The flight attendant even stopped by and gave Sawyer a book.  When we landed, as we were heading to baggage claim, an airport worker stopped me and asked if I needed help getting my bags. It was quite awesome. Now, let's pause a moment and I would like you to take note that I said "I had someone offering his help at every turn." Yes. Every single offer of help came from a man. What a shock that was to me as I sat contemplating my trip. Go figure!

All in all, I am proud of myself for braving the friendly skies alone with my baby boy. Despite the fact that he is the best little baby ever born, it was still quite a daunting challenge for me, and I am proud to say I lived to tell the tale.