Thanks so much to the two of you who gave me absolution from mommy guilt when I posted last about my struggles with pumping, diet, and a little boy with a milk protein intolerance.
Since I wrote, I did try to give up the breastmilk. Try being the key word. I had decided that I would pump and freeze while trying to do the (special, very expensive) hypo-allergenic) formula for a few days to see how it went. Stupidly, the first day I went on a milk/butter/chocolate rampage which was a very big mistake. The first day everything seemed to be going better. Isaac's milk protein intolerance symptoms (believe me, you probably don't want me to get into detail about his symptoms, but I will say they are of the diaper variety) seemed to be diminishing. I was pleased. The second day, during his evening feeding Isaac had a horriffic screaming fit. Even when I stopped feeding him he continued screaming for another 40 mins.
Here's the thing, my peoples... I have always. (Always since day 1 at the hospital when he was spitting up in his sleep) always had in the back of my mind that this kid has reflux like his brother did. Reflux of the silent variety, because since those first few days in the hospital his spitting up has been minimal to non-existant.
Now, there are many things I have learned thanks to endless hours of internet research. One of them is that formula is much worse for the reflux suffering child than is breastmilk. On day 2 of my formula feeding experiment, as my baby screamed for approximately an hour, I firmly decided to stop doubting myself and *if it was the last thing I did, I was going to convince my doctor that this child has reflux -- reflux that is hurting him - and needs to be medicated.
So I booked an appointment for that Friday, and in I went with both of my kids in tow during Sawyer's naptime no less putting my blood pressure at an alarming rate, I'm sure. (did that sentence make any sense? sorry. I don't have time to attempt to fix it. moving on....)
The doctor and I had a nice long chat. He does agree that Isaac has silent reflux. Isaac is now on medication. Not the strongest stuff -- and it seems to be working. Kind of/I think/most of the time. grrrrr. It's really hard to know. I mean, he doesn't scream during or after his bottles anymore, but he does still arch and throw his head from side to side while he eats, and actually insists on laying completely flat against your arm with his back slightly arched the entire bottle. I don't know what to make of it, but since he doesn't seem to be in actual PAIN, I haven't called the doctor back to put him on the heavy reflux meds. (and I daily fight myself on that one, because I'm really not sure if I should or not...)
In the meantime, he comforted me about a few of my major worries. 1) Question: WHY IS HE STILL SHOWING SYMPTOMS of this intolerance?
Answer: It can take a really long time for the milk to clear my system and then in turn to clear his. But he is gaining weight well (phew) and the really bad symptom is gone... so we can wait this out a little bit. Keep fighting the good elimination diet fight and see where we are at 4 months.
2. Question: What's up with the ingredient section of this special hypo-allergenic formula claiming 45% corn syrup solids? 45% sugar? are you KIDDING ME?
Answer: I can understand how that seems alarming but this is not the same thing you are finding in soda or juice or other sugary/unhealthy foods. This "sugar" serves a nutritional purpose. Actually, breast milk contains high volumes of sugar. No worries about the formula. You are not dooming your child to childhood obesity or ADHD because he drinks this formula. (Ok, I added the last line, but I think that is basically what he was telling me).
Also, he was not at all against me going full on formula until I could get all the milk out of my system. Also, if at 4 months Isaac is still having problems he said we will either *start eliminating other allergens from my diet (nuts, wheat, soy) or *just put him on formula full time, but he did say that in this day and age he thinks option number 1 is pretty ridiculous.
So that's that. I just started week 2 of continuing to fight the good elimination diet fight. BUT, now that Isaac is on reflux medication, as soon as I can get to the store and get more breastmilk storage bags, I'm going to try out the exclusive formula one more time.
In further research of this topic (I'm kind of an expert. ask me anything. no really, try me) I learned that 1)reflux is found in approximately 50% of babies with a milk protein intolerance. (starting to think Sawyer may have had an undiagnosed milk protein allergy and the reflux was in conjunction with that.) and 2) supposedly, if a baby is sensitive enough to a milk protein than the hypo-allergenic formula Isaac is currently on will probably cause the baby to react also (do you really want me to go into a technical explanation? because I will if you dare me to...) so I'm kind of worried at this point that Isaac might be reacting to his special formula too and I want to get that figured out before he sees the doctor again at 4 months because if he is at that point Isaac would have to be put on an (incredibly ridiculously expensive, might as well be making a house payment every month) prescription formula (that our insurance damn well better pay for).
Anyway. There you have it.
I really wish Isaac would nurse and I wouldn't even have to deal with formula in the equation, but I'm still trucking along with my pumping (I only get to it 4 times a day, but it's something). Hopefully in the coming weeks we will get this situation all figured out. I have a feeling that my little guy will be so much happier and pleasant when he doesn't have gut issues anymore. As it is, he's a sweetie a good amount of the time, so I can only imagine he would be my little angel if he could just start feeling 100%.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Is Breast Always Really Best?
I really hate to show up here after months of silence and jump right into my predicament without any updates about how incredible life as a mother of two is, but it's also very busy so I must skip over all the flowery wonderfulness and get right to it.
I have a problem.
When Isaac was born I resolved to myself that I would not be a crazy breastfeeding nazi as I had been with Sawyer. After all the drama of his failure to thrive diagnosis and reflux, that mentality had definitely bitten me squarely in the butt.
This time around, I made sure to get Isaac familiar with a bottle around 3 weeks of age (at the recommendation of his pediatrician) and I even gave him formula a few times a week when we went on outings. Hey, let's face it... formula is just so much more convenient for on the go feedings especially when a demanding toddler is part of the picture.
All was going well until just before Isaac hit 2 months. At that point he started to revolt against the breast. He would sometimes drink for 4-5 minutes and then start choking and screaming. Sometimes he would start screaming the instant I attempted to get him to latch on. Of course, I was completely convinced that he, like his big brother, was suffering from silent reflux. In these instances he almost always willingly took a bottle, however, he take a bottle upright and I have just never mastered the art of breastfeeding in any position that did not include the baby lying down. This all still stayed true to my reflux diagnosis.
Around this same time Isaac started to have mucus in his stools. Every now and then. Not all the time. Then one day there were specks of blood in two separate diapers.... so I called the doctor.
The doctor pretty much dismissed my fears of silent reflux and said he believes that Isaac is just being lazy. The bottle is so much easier, why would he want to work so hard to breastfeed when he could simply have a bottle instead? He said he was sorry but that was just going to be a battle I was going to have to fight.
As far as the mucus and blood he said milk protein allergy. So he recommended a special kind of formula and told me to cut milk from my diet.
Now, it has been about a month since all of this has happened and here is how things are going now. Isaac pretty much refuses to breastfeed at all times except for his two earliest morning feedings. I have been trying to keep up with pumping, but it is extremely difficult to find the time to do so. As a result my supply has dropped in half. Therefore, most of the time Isaac gets half formula and half breastmilk.
I tried really hard this week (now that the craziness of the holidays and visitors is finally over) to push the breast at every feeding. It seemed to work out ok yesterday (I only had to give him a bottle at 2 feedings), but today he has been revolting again and in an extreme kind of way.
Now, to add to the complexity of all of this, I have not done a brilliant job of cutting milk from my diet. The mucus in his stools only seems to have gotten worse (no more blood, though) and I was regularly incorporating foods into my diet that I belatedly realized incorporated milk in its ingredients (you would be completely SHOCKED to find all of the things that contain milk. pretty much everything from boxed rice to bread to taco seasoning and so on and so forth. It's ridiculous. I am pretty much a vegan right now!) Only in the past few days do I think I finally have a good handle on eliminating milk from my diet completely. Online I have read that it can take anywhere from 4-6 weeks to completely rid your body of the milk proteins.
In the meantime, this diet is SUCH A STRUGGLE (OMG I AM DESPERATE FOR A CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE, bread with butter, freaking mashed potatoes, a blueberry muffin, and on and on and on)! Pumping is taking a huge portion of the very teeny tiny bit of free time I have in the first place and my milk seems to be hurting Isaac more than it's helping at this point anyway... so I just keep asking myself. Why exactly am I doing this?
Why not just switch completely over to the hypo-allergenic formula and call it a day? Is breast still best when I can't seem to get my diet straight so that my baby isn't constantly suffering from mucusy diarrhea and he is completely against breastfeeding as it is.
ugh. My logical brain says just let it go, Sarah, and start him on the formula full time. But something. SOMETHING in myself is not letting me give up completely. Yes it's a complete and total struggle for every last drop of that breastmilk. Yes, I am desperate (you have no idea) for anything buttery or milky or chocolatey and I have no idea how I'm going to keep this up for MONTHS let alone his entire first year....
I just need... help! Advice. Thoughts. Comments. Whatever you can give me that might help. Please.
I have a problem.
When Isaac was born I resolved to myself that I would not be a crazy breastfeeding nazi as I had been with Sawyer. After all the drama of his failure to thrive diagnosis and reflux, that mentality had definitely bitten me squarely in the butt.
This time around, I made sure to get Isaac familiar with a bottle around 3 weeks of age (at the recommendation of his pediatrician) and I even gave him formula a few times a week when we went on outings. Hey, let's face it... formula is just so much more convenient for on the go feedings especially when a demanding toddler is part of the picture.
All was going well until just before Isaac hit 2 months. At that point he started to revolt against the breast. He would sometimes drink for 4-5 minutes and then start choking and screaming. Sometimes he would start screaming the instant I attempted to get him to latch on. Of course, I was completely convinced that he, like his big brother, was suffering from silent reflux. In these instances he almost always willingly took a bottle, however, he take a bottle upright and I have just never mastered the art of breastfeeding in any position that did not include the baby lying down. This all still stayed true to my reflux diagnosis.
Around this same time Isaac started to have mucus in his stools. Every now and then. Not all the time. Then one day there were specks of blood in two separate diapers.... so I called the doctor.
The doctor pretty much dismissed my fears of silent reflux and said he believes that Isaac is just being lazy. The bottle is so much easier, why would he want to work so hard to breastfeed when he could simply have a bottle instead? He said he was sorry but that was just going to be a battle I was going to have to fight.
As far as the mucus and blood he said milk protein allergy. So he recommended a special kind of formula and told me to cut milk from my diet.
Now, it has been about a month since all of this has happened and here is how things are going now. Isaac pretty much refuses to breastfeed at all times except for his two earliest morning feedings. I have been trying to keep up with pumping, but it is extremely difficult to find the time to do so. As a result my supply has dropped in half. Therefore, most of the time Isaac gets half formula and half breastmilk.
I tried really hard this week (now that the craziness of the holidays and visitors is finally over) to push the breast at every feeding. It seemed to work out ok yesterday (I only had to give him a bottle at 2 feedings), but today he has been revolting again and in an extreme kind of way.
Now, to add to the complexity of all of this, I have not done a brilliant job of cutting milk from my diet. The mucus in his stools only seems to have gotten worse (no more blood, though) and I was regularly incorporating foods into my diet that I belatedly realized incorporated milk in its ingredients (you would be completely SHOCKED to find all of the things that contain milk. pretty much everything from boxed rice to bread to taco seasoning and so on and so forth. It's ridiculous. I am pretty much a vegan right now!) Only in the past few days do I think I finally have a good handle on eliminating milk from my diet completely. Online I have read that it can take anywhere from 4-6 weeks to completely rid your body of the milk proteins.
In the meantime, this diet is SUCH A STRUGGLE (OMG I AM DESPERATE FOR A CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE, bread with butter, freaking mashed potatoes, a blueberry muffin, and on and on and on)! Pumping is taking a huge portion of the very teeny tiny bit of free time I have in the first place and my milk seems to be hurting Isaac more than it's helping at this point anyway... so I just keep asking myself. Why exactly am I doing this?
Why not just switch completely over to the hypo-allergenic formula and call it a day? Is breast still best when I can't seem to get my diet straight so that my baby isn't constantly suffering from mucusy diarrhea and he is completely against breastfeeding as it is.
ugh. My logical brain says just let it go, Sarah, and start him on the formula full time. But something. SOMETHING in myself is not letting me give up completely. Yes it's a complete and total struggle for every last drop of that breastmilk. Yes, I am desperate (you have no idea) for anything buttery or milky or chocolatey and I have no idea how I'm going to keep this up for MONTHS let alone his entire first year....
I just need... help! Advice. Thoughts. Comments. Whatever you can give me that might help. Please.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
the grass is greener...
Have you ever been on your way to get a new haircut or style and suddenly decided that you are actually completely in love with your hair just the way it is? If so, then maybe you can relate a little bit to how I'm feeling right now. (that happens to me every single time I ever get a haircut, btw. My husband says I have "the grass is greener syndrome". I don't argue).
2.5 weeks from my due date now.... and I'm kind of in denial. But everything in my life is just sooooo perfect right now. How can this MAJOR change be about to take place? I'm just not... ready.
I will be much more ready on Monday when my mother-in-law arrives in town -- at which point I can stop having nightmares and overly dramatic worries about going into labor in the middle of the night and having to wake my peacefully slumbering toddler and dump him in a strange place for the evening while Mike and I rush off to go have his baby brother.
Should I feel bad that this worry/thought has overridden pretty much any newborn baby bliss kind of planning I likely should be feeling right now? I don't know. Just this week, I have had several conversations with people that have gone pretty much verbatim like this:
person: Oh, I bet you are SO READY to have that baby already
me: (sheepishly) yeah, kind of...
person: (silent, bewildered stare)
me: I am just hoping the baby will stay put a little longer... or at least until Monday
person: (not even trying to mask their shock/confusion over this very strange answer) WHY?
me: that's when my help arrives.
person: Oh. that makes sense. (as if to say - sort of, I guess, but you are kind of an alien for being the only person ever in the history in the world who is not completely desperate to meet your precious new little baby right this very instant!!!!!)
.....
end conversation.
I always feel like kind of a bad person when I admit out loud that actually, I really am not completely ready for this baby. I know things are different with #2. I know that when he finally does make his glorious appearance all those little details aren't going to matter to me one little smidgen and my world will start spinning in the very best kind of way. I know Sawyer will love his little baby brother as much as Mike and I will and our world will be doubly blessed with two precious little guys. I know I know I know.
But at this very moment I just can't really wrap my brain around anything but the here and now.. and here and now life has gotten pretty great and pretty easy and Sawyer and I are in a pretty wonderful routine... and now I find myself heading to the "salon" for a "makeover" and I am just not too sure how it's going to go... and that my friends.. is a little bit scary.
2.5 weeks from my due date now.... and I'm kind of in denial. But everything in my life is just sooooo perfect right now. How can this MAJOR change be about to take place? I'm just not... ready.
I will be much more ready on Monday when my mother-in-law arrives in town -- at which point I can stop having nightmares and overly dramatic worries about going into labor in the middle of the night and having to wake my peacefully slumbering toddler and dump him in a strange place for the evening while Mike and I rush off to go have his baby brother.
Should I feel bad that this worry/thought has overridden pretty much any newborn baby bliss kind of planning I likely should be feeling right now? I don't know. Just this week, I have had several conversations with people that have gone pretty much verbatim like this:
person: Oh, I bet you are SO READY to have that baby already
me: (sheepishly) yeah, kind of...
person: (silent, bewildered stare)
me: I am just hoping the baby will stay put a little longer... or at least until Monday
person: (not even trying to mask their shock/confusion over this very strange answer) WHY?
me: that's when my help arrives.
person: Oh. that makes sense. (as if to say - sort of, I guess, but you are kind of an alien for being the only person ever in the history in the world who is not completely desperate to meet your precious new little baby right this very instant!!!!!)
.....
end conversation.
I always feel like kind of a bad person when I admit out loud that actually, I really am not completely ready for this baby. I know things are different with #2. I know that when he finally does make his glorious appearance all those little details aren't going to matter to me one little smidgen and my world will start spinning in the very best kind of way. I know Sawyer will love his little baby brother as much as Mike and I will and our world will be doubly blessed with two precious little guys. I know I know I know.
But at this very moment I just can't really wrap my brain around anything but the here and now.. and here and now life has gotten pretty great and pretty easy and Sawyer and I are in a pretty wonderful routine... and now I find myself heading to the "salon" for a "makeover" and I am just not too sure how it's going to go... and that my friends.. is a little bit scary.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
I will Survive
Ever since I found out I was pregnant and that my two little ones were going to be a little less than two years apart in age, I have had many worries/concerns about the logistics of taking care of two little people so close in age.
Over the months, I have run into many people whose children were close in age, and I have always been sure to ask them how they managed it/how it has gone for them/what their struggles have been. Almost without fail, people have given me a glazed over answer of, "Oh, it hasn't been too bad. (insert name here) is a great big (brother/sister)." and so on and so forth.
Every time I receive one of these answers, quite frankly, I have been pretty shocked.
Today, though? Today, I think I got the first real honest answer of bunch. Maybe it was because this particular mom has TWO boys (and let's face it - toddler boys are just a little bit more difficult to wrangle than toddler girls) or maybe it's because the little one is still very little, so her struggles continue to this day and/or are very fresh in her mind. Whatever the reason, SHE gave voice to all of my worries.
"It's been hard because *Caleb wants me to hold him a lot, and I just can't do it most of the time."
"Caleb has gotten extra needy of my attention."
"Just the logistics of going places with two little ones is daunting. I can't run after Caleb like before, so I have to trust him to stay near me/hold my hand/stay out of trouble/etc"
These are all my concerns. Rather than getting more independent since the beginning of my pregnancy, Sawyer has gotten much more needy. Especially at home. Especially when I'm busy doing something. When we are out and about he will still decide out of seemingly nowhere to dart off in a completely different direction and will not listen to voice commands to STOP. TURN AROUND. COME BACK. Forcing me to chase after him. If I want to get up or down the stairs in our house in less than 10 minutes, I really have to carry him. Sawyer likes to stop every few steps and take a seat or pick at an invisible speck of something he spies on the way. He tries to bring 10 toys up or down the steps with him. Basically, he's on Sawyer's time schedule which is fine and lovely, but oh-so-not-convenient when a newborn baby becomes part of the picture.
I know that I am going to figure out how to deal with all of these hurdles when the time comes. Sawyer will have to adapt more than even I want him to have to. But he will. And I will. We will get through it. Just as this mom has done. Clearly, she is doing alright since she was out of her house and at a play group by 10:15 am that morning with a 2.5 year old and a 5 month old in tow. She even had a matching outfit on, her hair combed nicely, and I do believe I spied a bit of make-up on her face as well.
She has managed and figured it out and is not as war-torn as I might have imagined. So maybe she could have told me, "Oh, it hasn't been so bad." But instead, she was completely honest, and for that, I am truly appreciative. This way, when I struggle and strain through those early days with two little ones, I will know that I am not the only one. That it really is tough, and I'm allowed to admit that it is and say it out loud. I won't feel the need to put on a happy face and pretend that it's all so much easier than I had anticipated. It will be what it will be, and what it will be is pretty freaking hard... but I will survive.
There will come a day when another pregnant mother will see me out of the house at a decent hour, with two little ones in tow, my hair washed and brushed and a little bit of make-up on my face. And when she asks me how I've managed I will be sure to tell her the whole truth... and hopefully she will find comfort in the knowledge that though it has been tough I have survived just as she will.
Over the months, I have run into many people whose children were close in age, and I have always been sure to ask them how they managed it/how it has gone for them/what their struggles have been. Almost without fail, people have given me a glazed over answer of, "Oh, it hasn't been too bad. (insert name here) is a great big (brother/sister)." and so on and so forth.
Every time I receive one of these answers, quite frankly, I have been pretty shocked.
Today, though? Today, I think I got the first real honest answer of bunch. Maybe it was because this particular mom has TWO boys (and let's face it - toddler boys are just a little bit more difficult to wrangle than toddler girls) or maybe it's because the little one is still very little, so her struggles continue to this day and/or are very fresh in her mind. Whatever the reason, SHE gave voice to all of my worries.
"It's been hard because *Caleb wants me to hold him a lot, and I just can't do it most of the time."
"Caleb has gotten extra needy of my attention."
"Just the logistics of going places with two little ones is daunting. I can't run after Caleb like before, so I have to trust him to stay near me/hold my hand/stay out of trouble/etc"
These are all my concerns. Rather than getting more independent since the beginning of my pregnancy, Sawyer has gotten much more needy. Especially at home. Especially when I'm busy doing something. When we are out and about he will still decide out of seemingly nowhere to dart off in a completely different direction and will not listen to voice commands to STOP. TURN AROUND. COME BACK. Forcing me to chase after him. If I want to get up or down the stairs in our house in less than 10 minutes, I really have to carry him. Sawyer likes to stop every few steps and take a seat or pick at an invisible speck of something he spies on the way. He tries to bring 10 toys up or down the steps with him. Basically, he's on Sawyer's time schedule which is fine and lovely, but oh-so-not-convenient when a newborn baby becomes part of the picture.
I know that I am going to figure out how to deal with all of these hurdles when the time comes. Sawyer will have to adapt more than even I want him to have to. But he will. And I will. We will get through it. Just as this mom has done. Clearly, she is doing alright since she was out of her house and at a play group by 10:15 am that morning with a 2.5 year old and a 5 month old in tow. She even had a matching outfit on, her hair combed nicely, and I do believe I spied a bit of make-up on her face as well.
She has managed and figured it out and is not as war-torn as I might have imagined. So maybe she could have told me, "Oh, it hasn't been so bad." But instead, she was completely honest, and for that, I am truly appreciative. This way, when I struggle and strain through those early days with two little ones, I will know that I am not the only one. That it really is tough, and I'm allowed to admit that it is and say it out loud. I won't feel the need to put on a happy face and pretend that it's all so much easier than I had anticipated. It will be what it will be, and what it will be is pretty freaking hard... but I will survive.
There will come a day when another pregnant mother will see me out of the house at a decent hour, with two little ones in tow, my hair washed and brushed and a little bit of make-up on my face. And when she asks me how I've managed I will be sure to tell her the whole truth... and hopefully she will find comfort in the knowledge that though it has been tough I have survived just as she will.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Decorating
The craziness of last month is almost a distant memory. We somehow managed to do everything on that wild to-do list and keep our sanity in tact at the same time.
We are mostly settled now in our new place. I had some nagging fears that I might regret moving, but I have to say... I am nothing but thrilled. We really love this house (even though it will likely only be "ours" for a short time), and I am amazed by how quickly it started to feel like home.
Now that we're settling, I'm getting the itch to decorate and make it mine. With 3.5 months until the expected arrival of the newest member of our family, I am realizing time is going to fly so have started to obsess about giving the new little guy his own space.
While he won't get his own room, (he'll be sharing with the guest room) this new house does have a big enough guest room that it can comfortably fit a queen sized bed, end tables, the baby's crib, dresser, and even rocking chair if I choose to put it in there. I just recently decided this little guy should have his own crib from the start. While Sawyer slept in our bedroom until he was 6 months old, I did usually put him down in the crib in his bedroom for naptimes, and I attribute his seamless transition to the crib at night to the fact that he was no stranger to that crib.
On more of a budget this time around, I started whispering in my sister's ear that they need to get their 2-year-old into a toddler bed by October so that I can score a free crib. I think it's do-able. It will be getting the crib to South Carolina that might be a bit more challenging.
In the meantime, My sister and mom acquired a dresser from a yard sale that my mom will be re-finishing and/or painting as per my request when I figure out exactly what I want, and a nursery glider. (I didn't have any sort of rocking chair when Sawyer was young and to this day sometimes still wish I had one. I have often found myself in his room at night literally mimicking the motions of a rocking chair with my body!).
That just leaves decorating.
I fell in love with all of the prints I found on this etsy site, but in the end settled with these four prints:
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For the final version, she is going to make the picture of the motorcycle landscape also. The theme of the room will be "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles"
and above the baby's crib will be this word art.
Overall, I'm pretty excited. I was feeling sad for the new little man that he would have to share a room, but now I think his half of the room is going to be super awesome, and I am a little jealous. :)
I will try to post pics when the room comes together a little bit. Until then...
We are mostly settled now in our new place. I had some nagging fears that I might regret moving, but I have to say... I am nothing but thrilled. We really love this house (even though it will likely only be "ours" for a short time), and I am amazed by how quickly it started to feel like home.
Now that we're settling, I'm getting the itch to decorate and make it mine. With 3.5 months until the expected arrival of the newest member of our family, I am realizing time is going to fly so have started to obsess about giving the new little guy his own space.
While he won't get his own room, (he'll be sharing with the guest room) this new house does have a big enough guest room that it can comfortably fit a queen sized bed, end tables, the baby's crib, dresser, and even rocking chair if I choose to put it in there. I just recently decided this little guy should have his own crib from the start. While Sawyer slept in our bedroom until he was 6 months old, I did usually put him down in the crib in his bedroom for naptimes, and I attribute his seamless transition to the crib at night to the fact that he was no stranger to that crib.
On more of a budget this time around, I started whispering in my sister's ear that they need to get their 2-year-old into a toddler bed by October so that I can score a free crib. I think it's do-able. It will be getting the crib to South Carolina that might be a bit more challenging.
In the meantime, My sister and mom acquired a dresser from a yard sale that my mom will be re-finishing and/or painting as per my request when I figure out exactly what I want, and a nursery glider. (I didn't have any sort of rocking chair when Sawyer was young and to this day sometimes still wish I had one. I have often found myself in his room at night literally mimicking the motions of a rocking chair with my body!).
That just leaves decorating.
I fell in love with all of the prints I found on this etsy site, but in the end settled with these four prints:
and above the baby's crib will be this word art.
Overall, I'm pretty excited. I was feeling sad for the new little man that he would have to share a room, but now I think his half of the room is going to be super awesome, and I am a little jealous. :)
I will try to post pics when the room comes together a little bit. Until then...
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
crazy
I must be completely out of my mind. This is what the next few days and weeks of my life are looking like:
Tomorrow: Pre-Move-out-Inspection of our house on base
YES! We are moving! But not to Parris Island. :( Even after my magnificent letter AND Mike's commanding officer getting involved the housing people would not budge. We found what we think will be a very awesome house for an incredible deal OFF base, closer to Mike's work.. and we're pretty excited.
Friday, June 15:
OB appointment for me
Movers arrive to move our BIG stuff to the new house
Saturday, June 16:
Mike works half a day
We spend the rest of the day hauling our closet items and smaller items to the new house
Sunday, June 17:
Mike and person who is buying the chain link fence in our yard will take it down
I will work on unpacking the new house/hanging stuff on the walls/packing up what will hopefully be the last of what is in our house on base.
Monday, June 18: The owner of the new house will be in town to do an inspection to make note of any damage/wear and tear made to the house by the previous tenants. (yes, things are happening a little out of order here, but we military are flexible and this is the only way everything would work out right.)
Tuesday, June 19: Sawyer's 18 month appointment
Finish unpacking/hanging & decorating/ generally trying to make the house look decent
Wednesday June 20: Sawyer and I fly to DC for 2 weeks of visiting family/attending my friend's bridal shower
----
June 20-July 1 = hopefully very relaxing
July 2:
Sawyer and I arrive in Charleston, SC by plane.
Mike's FAMILY arrives to our home earlier that day.
Yes. I have to be completely unpacked/have my house in decent order before I leave on June 20 because we have company on the very day I get back.
July 6: Mike's family leaves
July 7: Final inspection of our house on base (which means I have to find time somewhere in the midst of all this to clean the house on base. me thinks I will probably be hiring a cleaning company.)
I must be completely nuts.
Tomorrow: Pre-Move-out-Inspection of our house on base
YES! We are moving! But not to Parris Island. :( Even after my magnificent letter AND Mike's commanding officer getting involved the housing people would not budge. We found what we think will be a very awesome house for an incredible deal OFF base, closer to Mike's work.. and we're pretty excited.
Friday, June 15:
OB appointment for me
Movers arrive to move our BIG stuff to the new house
Saturday, June 16:
Mike works half a day
We spend the rest of the day hauling our closet items and smaller items to the new house
Sunday, June 17:
Mike and person who is buying the chain link fence in our yard will take it down
I will work on unpacking the new house/hanging stuff on the walls/packing up what will hopefully be the last of what is in our house on base.
Monday, June 18: The owner of the new house will be in town to do an inspection to make note of any damage/wear and tear made to the house by the previous tenants. (yes, things are happening a little out of order here, but we military are flexible and this is the only way everything would work out right.)
Tuesday, June 19: Sawyer's 18 month appointment
Finish unpacking/hanging & decorating/ generally trying to make the house look decent
Wednesday June 20: Sawyer and I fly to DC for 2 weeks of visiting family/attending my friend's bridal shower
----
June 20-July 1 = hopefully very relaxing
July 2:
Sawyer and I arrive in Charleston, SC by plane.
Mike's FAMILY arrives to our home earlier that day.
Yes. I have to be completely unpacked/have my house in decent order before I leave on June 20 because we have company on the very day I get back.
July 6: Mike's family leaves
July 7: Final inspection of our house on base (which means I have to find time somewhere in the midst of all this to clean the house on base. me thinks I will probably be hiring a cleaning company.)
I must be completely nuts.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Planning a Move?
In the end, we didn't really make a decision about this, and in not making a decision, we decided by default to plow ahead and see what fate will have in store for us. I can't give you an exact, logical reason... we're just not ready to give up on this just yet.
In the meantime, we've set our sights on a more shorterm goal. We might be getting our wish and moving to Parris Island. Mike met with, called, tried his damndest to be annoying and bug them about getting us a house, and in the end it was to no avail. Finally, I called myself and was given the distinct impression that we were very last priority to get a house on Parris Island, and if we didn't do something about it, we would never move there.
So I wrote a letter. Which my mom revised. Brilliantly, I might add. She made the focus of the letter that our desire to be on Parris Island is really a safety concern for Michael. His long hours have him drivng on dark, winding roads at ridiculous hours of the day and night on very little sleep. The letter advocated that series commanders and drill instructors be given first priority for base housing on Parris Island due to their work hours. Of course, also mentioned in the letter was our initial hardship with the fleas and how we had been told that our house had been "recently renovated" with "all new flooring throughout the house". Both of these proved to be untrue. It's true that some houses in this neighborhood had been recently renovated with brand new flooring, but our house is far from one of them.
Mike sent his Commanding Officer a copy of it before we sent it out -- to see if he would like to be CC'd. He didn't, but he said to "fire away" and even recommended that we send it to the CO of the Air Station here as he is the one, apparently, with the power to make changes in policy for the housing.
It was sent. And we waited. And waited. And just when I shrugged my shoulders and thought, "Oh well. At least we tried." Mike came home from work and said his CO wanted to see him about the "housing letter.", but when Mike had gone to see him he was at the Airstation. The next day, Mike finally caught up with the CO who said our letter had made quite an impression on the CO of the airstation. Mike and his CO are scheduled to have a meeting with the head of housing next week.
Small victory. I think.
Of course, last night I lay awake in bed for several hours mentally planning our "move". The idea of boxes and everything having to be re-organized and re-placed in a new home had me reeling. I think it will be very worth it in the end, though, if they do in fact give us our wish and give us a house on the Island. No, I don't have any grand ideas that the cool kids will suddenly welcome me in their midst once I am living in their "hood", but having Mike so close by will be completely priceless... especially with the little baby on the way. I can't tell you how many times I have felt completely helpless here, stuck alone with my sick baby (or my sick self) with Michael stuck on Parris Island and not able to come by to help me out at all.
Crossing my fingers and praying this scheduled meeting next week goes our way, and if it does... praying that the move doesn't take the last bits of sanity I have left.
In the meantime, we've set our sights on a more shorterm goal. We might be getting our wish and moving to Parris Island. Mike met with, called, tried his damndest to be annoying and bug them about getting us a house, and in the end it was to no avail. Finally, I called myself and was given the distinct impression that we were very last priority to get a house on Parris Island, and if we didn't do something about it, we would never move there.
So I wrote a letter. Which my mom revised. Brilliantly, I might add. She made the focus of the letter that our desire to be on Parris Island is really a safety concern for Michael. His long hours have him drivng on dark, winding roads at ridiculous hours of the day and night on very little sleep. The letter advocated that series commanders and drill instructors be given first priority for base housing on Parris Island due to their work hours. Of course, also mentioned in the letter was our initial hardship with the fleas and how we had been told that our house had been "recently renovated" with "all new flooring throughout the house". Both of these proved to be untrue. It's true that some houses in this neighborhood had been recently renovated with brand new flooring, but our house is far from one of them.
Mike sent his Commanding Officer a copy of it before we sent it out -- to see if he would like to be CC'd. He didn't, but he said to "fire away" and even recommended that we send it to the CO of the Air Station here as he is the one, apparently, with the power to make changes in policy for the housing.
It was sent. And we waited. And waited. And just when I shrugged my shoulders and thought, "Oh well. At least we tried." Mike came home from work and said his CO wanted to see him about the "housing letter.", but when Mike had gone to see him he was at the Airstation. The next day, Mike finally caught up with the CO who said our letter had made quite an impression on the CO of the airstation. Mike and his CO are scheduled to have a meeting with the head of housing next week.
Small victory. I think.
Of course, last night I lay awake in bed for several hours mentally planning our "move". The idea of boxes and everything having to be re-organized and re-placed in a new home had me reeling. I think it will be very worth it in the end, though, if they do in fact give us our wish and give us a house on the Island. No, I don't have any grand ideas that the cool kids will suddenly welcome me in their midst once I am living in their "hood", but having Mike so close by will be completely priceless... especially with the little baby on the way. I can't tell you how many times I have felt completely helpless here, stuck alone with my sick baby (or my sick self) with Michael stuck on Parris Island and not able to come by to help me out at all.
Crossing my fingers and praying this scheduled meeting next week goes our way, and if it does... praying that the move doesn't take the last bits of sanity I have left.
Monday, May 14, 2012
The Dawn of a New Age in Parenting
This weekend I had a bit of an eye-opening experience. I saw my little "angel" through the eyes of others... and it left me a little uneasy. Generally, when I take Sawyer places, I almost always leave all swelled up with pride in my amazing little man. This weekend, that was not exactly the case.
First of all, you should know that we went somewhere that was not child-proofed and had lots of stairs (which we do not have at our house so that means it's a complete novelty for Sawyer). There were also a lot of people packed into a small space AND there was a baby girl about 11-months-old.
When we arrived, Mike and I took our places. He was stationed on one end of the room and I was stationed on the other. For the first 45 minutes Sawyer literally ran from one end of the room to the other. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Stopping only briefly to take the magnets and pictures off of the refrigerator, venture into the laundry room and zone immediately in on the ax that was in there, try to climb the stairs repeatedly, make himself comfortable in the master bedroom, grab at the food on people's plates, and make the little baby cry.
What? Yes. The other things? Those are completely expected and boy-age-appropriate, I would say. Admittedly, I think the kid-less couples were watching Sawyer's boundless energy and thinking, "Maybe I'm not ready for kids just yet" and the couples with kids were thinking, "I'm really glad that's not MY kid." But he wasn't being bad. He was just being... a toddler who does, in fact, have boundless amounts of energy and curiousity.
It was when he stepped on the 11-month-old's hand and made her cry. (Not on purpose, of course, but who wants to be the parent responsible for the kid responsible for making a baby cry? Not I.).... or when he actually took her toy phone and threw it AT her (right after I told him, "don't throw that") and made her cry again... that's when I started to feel a little uneasy.
I'm used to Sawyer being the little one you need to watch out for... not the big one who needs to be careful around the little one.
It appears we have entered a new dawn of parenting, folks. Discipline is starting to rear its ugly head, and I am at a complete loss. While I'm certain that Sawyer does indeed know what the word "no" means, he rarely, if ever listens. To be quite honest, most of the time when I tell him no, he smiles and does it again. I tell him no again. He does it again. I pull him away from said thing he isn't supposed to be doing/touching/whatever, he waits until I put my guard down and runs back to do it again. My guess is this is all pretty normal toddler behavior, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't shake my confidence just a tad.
Darn. Just when I had mastered the feeding/sleeping/clothing/taking care of basic needs bit of parenthood, now I have to add a new talent to my resume? Enforcer of rules. Teacher of proper behavior.
Wish me luck.
First of all, you should know that we went somewhere that was not child-proofed and had lots of stairs (which we do not have at our house so that means it's a complete novelty for Sawyer). There were also a lot of people packed into a small space AND there was a baby girl about 11-months-old.
When we arrived, Mike and I took our places. He was stationed on one end of the room and I was stationed on the other. For the first 45 minutes Sawyer literally ran from one end of the room to the other. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Stopping only briefly to take the magnets and pictures off of the refrigerator, venture into the laundry room and zone immediately in on the ax that was in there, try to climb the stairs repeatedly, make himself comfortable in the master bedroom, grab at the food on people's plates, and make the little baby cry.
What? Yes. The other things? Those are completely expected and boy-age-appropriate, I would say. Admittedly, I think the kid-less couples were watching Sawyer's boundless energy and thinking, "Maybe I'm not ready for kids just yet" and the couples with kids were thinking, "I'm really glad that's not MY kid." But he wasn't being bad. He was just being... a toddler who does, in fact, have boundless amounts of energy and curiousity.
It was when he stepped on the 11-month-old's hand and made her cry. (Not on purpose, of course, but who wants to be the parent responsible for the kid responsible for making a baby cry? Not I.).... or when he actually took her toy phone and threw it AT her (right after I told him, "don't throw that") and made her cry again... that's when I started to feel a little uneasy.
I'm used to Sawyer being the little one you need to watch out for... not the big one who needs to be careful around the little one.
It appears we have entered a new dawn of parenting, folks. Discipline is starting to rear its ugly head, and I am at a complete loss. While I'm certain that Sawyer does indeed know what the word "no" means, he rarely, if ever listens. To be quite honest, most of the time when I tell him no, he smiles and does it again. I tell him no again. He does it again. I pull him away from said thing he isn't supposed to be doing/touching/whatever, he waits until I put my guard down and runs back to do it again. My guess is this is all pretty normal toddler behavior, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't shake my confidence just a tad.
Darn. Just when I had mastered the feeding/sleeping/clothing/taking care of basic needs bit of parenthood, now I have to add a new talent to my resume? Enforcer of rules. Teacher of proper behavior.
Wish me luck.
 |
| My Wild Man |
Thursday, May 10, 2012
What's in this Water, Anyway?!
You know how they say, "There must be something in the water" ? Well, I am beginning to get very suspicious of just that.
Since I found out I was pregnant, it seems that everywhere I turn I am running into another lady who is due within a month of me.
One of my friends is due in September, my neighbor down the street is due two weeks before me, Mike's boss's wife is due two days before me, the lady who organizes our Thursday playgroup is due one day before me, and another girl who goes to the Thursday playgroup is due in November....
That's not even counting the person who started this whole baby boom and is due in July.
Hmm. I don't know. Maybe someone should do an investigation. It seems the military is adding extra hormones into their water trying to build up a new generation of military for WWIII.
Either that, or I just happen to be living in a unique situation around a bunch of 20 and 30 year-olds who are in the baby-making phase of their life...
I prefer my first theory, though. It's much more interesting.
Since I found out I was pregnant, it seems that everywhere I turn I am running into another lady who is due within a month of me.
One of my friends is due in September, my neighbor down the street is due two weeks before me, Mike's boss's wife is due two days before me, the lady who organizes our Thursday playgroup is due one day before me, and another girl who goes to the Thursday playgroup is due in November....
That's not even counting the person who started this whole baby boom and is due in July.
Hmm. I don't know. Maybe someone should do an investigation. It seems the military is adding extra hormones into their water trying to build up a new generation of military for WWIII.
Either that, or I just happen to be living in a unique situation around a bunch of 20 and 30 year-olds who are in the baby-making phase of their life...
I prefer my first theory, though. It's much more interesting.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
...BUT
...but then again. We've put so much into this life, how do we possibly just walk away? I was walking past the really nice houses on base and saw a Marine in the front yard playing with his kids. My first thought was, "Dang. He looks young." My second thought was, "He's probably just a Major, that's why."
One year. We're one measly year from *those houses. From *that status. From *guaranteed retirement and financial security. How do we just walk away without knowing for sure whether that life was possible for us?
Clearly I am very torn.
We would have just approximately 10 years left in the good old USMC if they let us stick around. My dad turned 65 yesterday. He will be 75 when it's time for Mike to retire. In those 10 years, who knows where we could be. We could be sent to Japan. Hawaii. Back to California. Places far far away, and my kids could grow up the first decade of their lives hardly ever seeing their grandparents... and then when we finally move back? Those grandparents will be older than I ever want to believe that they will actually be. That's painful for me to think about.
Or...
Or Mike could get his wish and become the Marine Corps Martial Arts Instructor in Quantico and we could ride out the rest of our years close to the fam.
You never know.
There are many possibilities and what ifs to consider when making huge life decisions such as this one. In the end, I think it will come down to following our hearts. Mike followed his heart when he decided to stop flying helicopters and I supported him 100%. Neither one of us regrets it now - even though it is the very decision - the very reason we are faced with this predicament today.
I do believe it will all work out how it's meant to in the end. In the meantime, we just have to decide how hard we want to fight for one outcome or the other. Or if we want to fight at all, and just let fate take over.....
One year. We're one measly year from *those houses. From *that status. From *guaranteed retirement and financial security. How do we just walk away without knowing for sure whether that life was possible for us?
Clearly I am very torn.
We would have just approximately 10 years left in the good old USMC if they let us stick around. My dad turned 65 yesterday. He will be 75 when it's time for Mike to retire. In those 10 years, who knows where we could be. We could be sent to Japan. Hawaii. Back to California. Places far far away, and my kids could grow up the first decade of their lives hardly ever seeing their grandparents... and then when we finally move back? Those grandparents will be older than I ever want to believe that they will actually be. That's painful for me to think about.
Or...
Or Mike could get his wish and become the Marine Corps Martial Arts Instructor in Quantico and we could ride out the rest of our years close to the fam.
You never know.
There are many possibilities and what ifs to consider when making huge life decisions such as this one. In the end, I think it will come down to following our hearts. Mike followed his heart when he decided to stop flying helicopters and I supported him 100%. Neither one of us regrets it now - even though it is the very decision - the very reason we are faced with this predicament today.
I do believe it will all work out how it's meant to in the end. In the meantime, we just have to decide how hard we want to fight for one outcome or the other. Or if we want to fight at all, and just let fate take over.....
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
The Promise of Maybe
In December we were blindsided with the news that our worst fear had come true. Mike had been passed over for promotion. It was a shock since he wasn't actually supposed to be up for Major for another year, but thanks to a dramatic downsizing in the military they looked at a larger pool of people, thus promoting many less than usual and dooming the rest for "terminal" status.
He does have another shot at promotion next year, but we're not very hopeful. His dad, a retired Two Star Admiral in the Navy has lots of connections, so we're getting everyone and their brother with any kind of status to write letters of recommendations for Mike's file. It's a last ditch effort. None of us has any idea if it will work.
And as time passes, I don't know if I want it to work.
Mike is pretty worried about the future. Much more worried than I am, which is very strange. I imagine it would be pretty tough for him - feeling like all the pressure to have a viable income is on his shoulders. To be honest, it really is. I don't plan to go back to work until these kids are old enough for pre-school and since one of them is still cooking in my tummy, well, that's a while down the road yet.
Yesterday, Mike texted me what the voluntary separation incentive pay is for his rank. He's an officer but not eligible for retirement yet. Thanks to their attemps at downsizing the military is desperate to get rid of him and others like him. The voluntary separation incentive is more zeroes than either of us has ever seen on any check made out in our names, I'll just say that. If we wait until we find out that Mike indeed did NOT make Major again (assuming that's what we'll find out come December) that separation pay halves. It's still a nice chunk of change, but it's half of what we could get if we just cut our losses.
I was thinking about it today quite a bit and I'm not sure entirely what the reason is, but the thrill of the nomadic lifestyle has really run out for me. I yearn to put down some roots - real, long-term, deep roots. I desperately desire to be near my family. Maybe I'm done with this military life. Maybe that voluntary separation incentive is just enough for me to say, SCREW financial security and Mike being able to retire at 42. I'm ready to get out of this world, and I'm ready now!
I know it's a really tough economy out there right now, but Mike has set his heart on law enforcement, and with his military background, I really feel that he has it in the bag. That and he can charm the pants off anybody, so I know he'll kill it in an interview. I'm really not very worried about him finding a job. Yes, we will take a HUGE paycut. Probably by half. So there are many things to consider...
But.. thanks to the wake-up call in December we have really scrambled and gotten our financial situation in pretty good working order. Everything is paid off except for our wretched HOUSE in San Diego and my measly little student loan (which will be the last loan I ever consider paying off bc it is NOTHING. thanks mom and dad!!!!!). But with our pretty separation incentive, a free place to live in Maryland (for a while anyway - thanks to Mike's parents and his aunt and uncle for hanging on to Grandma's house after she passed away), and if Mike continues on in the reserves I think we will have just enough to make it work. Then we just need to hang on long enough for the housing market to go up (just a little bit? please? for the love of GOD!!) and we can unload our San Diego house, hopefully for a decent profit...
I'll go back to school using the GI bill and be ready to start a career when pre-school time starts for these youngins....
and... maybe it will work.
Maybe.
He does have another shot at promotion next year, but we're not very hopeful. His dad, a retired Two Star Admiral in the Navy has lots of connections, so we're getting everyone and their brother with any kind of status to write letters of recommendations for Mike's file. It's a last ditch effort. None of us has any idea if it will work.
And as time passes, I don't know if I want it to work.
Mike is pretty worried about the future. Much more worried than I am, which is very strange. I imagine it would be pretty tough for him - feeling like all the pressure to have a viable income is on his shoulders. To be honest, it really is. I don't plan to go back to work until these kids are old enough for pre-school and since one of them is still cooking in my tummy, well, that's a while down the road yet.
Yesterday, Mike texted me what the voluntary separation incentive pay is for his rank. He's an officer but not eligible for retirement yet. Thanks to their attemps at downsizing the military is desperate to get rid of him and others like him. The voluntary separation incentive is more zeroes than either of us has ever seen on any check made out in our names, I'll just say that. If we wait until we find out that Mike indeed did NOT make Major again (assuming that's what we'll find out come December) that separation pay halves. It's still a nice chunk of change, but it's half of what we could get if we just cut our losses.
I was thinking about it today quite a bit and I'm not sure entirely what the reason is, but the thrill of the nomadic lifestyle has really run out for me. I yearn to put down some roots - real, long-term, deep roots. I desperately desire to be near my family. Maybe I'm done with this military life. Maybe that voluntary separation incentive is just enough for me to say, SCREW financial security and Mike being able to retire at 42. I'm ready to get out of this world, and I'm ready now!
I know it's a really tough economy out there right now, but Mike has set his heart on law enforcement, and with his military background, I really feel that he has it in the bag. That and he can charm the pants off anybody, so I know he'll kill it in an interview. I'm really not very worried about him finding a job. Yes, we will take a HUGE paycut. Probably by half. So there are many things to consider...
But.. thanks to the wake-up call in December we have really scrambled and gotten our financial situation in pretty good working order. Everything is paid off except for our wretched HOUSE in San Diego and my measly little student loan (which will be the last loan I ever consider paying off bc it is NOTHING. thanks mom and dad!!!!!). But with our pretty separation incentive, a free place to live in Maryland (for a while anyway - thanks to Mike's parents and his aunt and uncle for hanging on to Grandma's house after she passed away), and if Mike continues on in the reserves I think we will have just enough to make it work. Then we just need to hang on long enough for the housing market to go up (just a little bit? please? for the love of GOD!!) and we can unload our San Diego house, hopefully for a decent profit...
I'll go back to school using the GI bill and be ready to start a career when pre-school time starts for these youngins....
and... maybe it will work.
Maybe.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
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..
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..
Sunday, April 22, 2012
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.
*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).
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.
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| the bay behind our house at sunset |
Saturday, April 7, 2012
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...
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...
Thursday, January 19, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, December 12, 2011
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.)
Sunday, December 11, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, November 21, 2011
The other night Sawyer woke up crying after only sleeping for approximately 30 minutes. I went in and picked him up. He looked at me and started babbling. He talked for the next 30 minutes. We sat in the chair in his room and he told me whatever it was that was on his mind. After he got it all out, he began to relax and rest comfortably, so I placed him back in his crib, and he went peacefully back to sleep.
I love that little boy so much. While I'm in no hurry for him to grow up too fast, I do look forward to the days when I will have the opportunity to have conversations with him. He has much to say already, and I just can't wait to understand every word.
I love that little boy so much. While I'm in no hurry for him to grow up too fast, I do look forward to the days when I will have the opportunity to have conversations with him. He has much to say already, and I just can't wait to understand every word.
Monday, November 14, 2011
JT Goes to the Ball
A few months ago, a young female marine put out a youtube video asking Justin Timberlake to the Marine Corps Ball. He, being the incredibly awesome person that he is, accepted. Oh how I wish he had gone to the same ball I did, but alas, he did not. In any case, he did write a little something on his website about his experience at the ball, so I thought I would share the link on my blog.
http://www.justintimberlake.com/news/my_night_at_the_marine_corps_ball
If you're interested in viewing the video that he references, you can find it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I79UW6-NAAU
Every year the Commandant of the Marine Corps puts out video that we watch at the ball. It generally provokes tears and is always greeted with absolute silence and reverence. As Justin notes, it is incredible.
I love that he was so in awe of the ceremony, just as I am every single year. I love that he has so much respect for his military community. I love love love him.
I do, however, need to clear up a few mistakes he made in his writing. First of all, he continually refers to the marines at the ball as soldiers. Marines are not soldiers. Marines are marines. Men and women serving in the army are soldiers. Also, while we're on the topic (though JT did not make this particular mistake) the generic term for everyone in the armed forces is MILITARY not ARMY. So many people I encounter refer to my husband as being in the army when they mean military. Believe me, The Army and the Marine Corps are very different.
Also, marines say, "Ooh Rah" with great stress on the second syllable. The army says "Hooah" or however it is spelled. JT makes reference to marines calling out Hooah at the ball when in fact I am absolutely certain they were saying Ooh Rah. It's their raucous form of agreement. Also heard coming from my husband's mouth when speaking with fellow marines is "YUT" - apparently another common form of marine agreement.
Someday I will write a post called Military Speak Translated. However, this concludes our lesson for today.
Despite the fact that he made a few key vocabulary mistakes, I respect Justin Timberlake very much for taking the time to learn about the very honorable Marine Corps Community.
:)
http://www.justintimberlake.com/news/my_night_at_the_marine_corps_ball
If you're interested in viewing the video that he references, you can find it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I79UW6-NAAU
Every year the Commandant of the Marine Corps puts out video that we watch at the ball. It generally provokes tears and is always greeted with absolute silence and reverence. As Justin notes, it is incredible.
I love that he was so in awe of the ceremony, just as I am every single year. I love that he has so much respect for his military community. I love love love him.
I do, however, need to clear up a few mistakes he made in his writing. First of all, he continually refers to the marines at the ball as soldiers. Marines are not soldiers. Marines are marines. Men and women serving in the army are soldiers. Also, while we're on the topic (though JT did not make this particular mistake) the generic term for everyone in the armed forces is MILITARY not ARMY. So many people I encounter refer to my husband as being in the army when they mean military. Believe me, The Army and the Marine Corps are very different.
Also, marines say, "Ooh Rah" with great stress on the second syllable. The army says "Hooah" or however it is spelled. JT makes reference to marines calling out Hooah at the ball when in fact I am absolutely certain they were saying Ooh Rah. It's their raucous form of agreement. Also heard coming from my husband's mouth when speaking with fellow marines is "YUT" - apparently another common form of marine agreement.
Someday I will write a post called Military Speak Translated. However, this concludes our lesson for today.
Despite the fact that he made a few key vocabulary mistakes, I respect Justin Timberlake very much for taking the time to learn about the very honorable Marine Corps Community.
:)
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