So tiny. So many tubes and wires.

We're still in PICU.

Here's a riddle for you: What does my son have in common with the starving children in Africa? The latest news is that Jackson has, over the course of the past month and a half of being sick, lost so much of each of his meals that he is actually suffering from malnourishment. My baby could be on one of those Sally Struthers commercials. "For less than the cost of a cup of coffee a day..."

So the doctors have started him on some IV nutrition. Said IV nutrition, called TPN, is mixed up each night by a guy who only does it once a day around 6 pm, so we had to wait on our bag of TPN. I had visions of a guy in the basement wearing a cloak, standing before a giant vat of bubbling, mystery brew with a scraggly cat at his feet while he tossed in some eye of newt. In my mind, the guy who makes the TPN cackles like a witch and stirs the kettle with a giant wooden spoon. I'm sure it's far from accurate, but this is the story we made up this afternoon when my dearest friend Crystal was here visiting. Thank God for good friends. I really needed a mental break from all the heaviness in this room. I needed to laugh. I feel more like myself again. Far less rage-y.

If you're still praying for us, pray for farts. As soon as he passes some gas, we can give him food by mouth, and then as soon as he poops we can start thinking about heading home. We'd really like to go home.

Somewhat calm after the storm

Dr. Pediatric Surgeon has just left the surgery waiting room, after telling us that Jackson's procedure went well, and was uncomplicated.

We are waiting for the Murse that was attending Jack's surgery (why are all the night nurses boys?) to come get us so we can go be with our baby in recovery.

Today was one of the longest and hardest days of my life. Jackson's condition is something that develops in utero. So you know I spent a good part of this afternoon blaming myself. It happened while he was growing inside me. So it's my fault. Don't argue with my "logic".

After beating myself up mentally, I grew increasingly angry with the doctors. I remember the pediatric GI guy telling me in the exam room, in his haughty God-complex voice, "I'm a specialist. I see VERY SICK babies. Your baby doesn't look very sick to me."

Well, I say BULLSHIT HE WAS "NOT VERY SICK"!!!!!!

Tell me about how sick he isn't, when I'm rushing from the pediatric hospital to the surgery hospital, with my son's records and films in hand, ready to meet a surgeon I've only spoken to over the telephone once 10 minutes ago, so he can operate on my baby. TELL ME AGAIN HOW SICK MY BABY ISN'T.

ASSHAT.

It fills me with The Rage to think about it.

What an awful day. I'm so glad the bad part is over. It had better be over.

Please, God. Make the bad part over...

Mother's Intuition

I knew something was wrong with him. I knew it wasn't "just colic". Nobody wanted to listen to me.

I told our Family Doctor, "This baby vomits too much, and sometimes it's green." He said that babies spit up a lot, and that's normal. Which is the medical diagnostic equivalent of giving someone a pat on the head and a lollipop. I came back to our next check up and repeated, "This baby vomits too much, sometimes it's green, and sometimes he screams uncontrollably for hours on end and I can't help him feel better." Doctor says that its colic, and nothing more. Just a passing phase and I will have to suck it up until its over. He promises it will go away on its own. I suggest maybe there is a medical underlying issue, maybe gastric reflux. Family Doctor says that's a possibility, so I can take Jackson to a Pediatric GI specialist.

I took Jackson to the Pediatric GI Guy. I said, "This baby vomits too much, sometimes it's green, and sometimes he screams uncontrollably and there's nothing I can do to make him feel better." Pediatric GI Guy says that behavior is normal, a phase of colic, and it should go away on its own. I said I wanted to make sure there wasn't an actual underlying medical issue. He said, "So why did you come to see me?" I said, "To make sure there isn't anything seriously wrong." So he orders some tests, which feels like he's just doing this to placate me. You know, more pats on the head and lollipops.

This morning, we rose bright and early and I force-starved Jackson to empty his bowel in preparation for an Upper GI study. He had his last bottle at 5 am. His test wasn't until 10. I was dreading the time in between. You know he's going to cry, and you know you can't give him what he needs to feel better. It's heartbreaking. On the way to the Pediatric Hospital, I warmed his baba in the car and put it in an insulated coozy. The second he's done with his test, I think to myself, I can give him his baba and help him feel better. Because he will be starving!

His test went uneventfully, I thought. The Radiologist told me that if he saw anything, he would tell me right away. He said that Jackson didn't have Pyloric Stenosis, which was good. That was the bad diagnosis that I was fearing. That's the bad diagnosis that would require surgery. No Pyloric Stenosis was a good thing.

But then...

It's not Pyloric Stenosis, it's Intestinal Malrotation. This is something that I have read requires surgical intervention, and can be life threatening when left unchecked. So I am calling the Pediatric Surgeon for a consultation, and we'll take the next step after that.

I am not happy that there is something wrong with my baby, but at the same time I'm glad there is a diagnosis. I hesitated to complain too loudly, because I didn't want to be "That Mom" that bothers the doctor with each little hiccup. But I felt very strongly that something more was wrong. It wasn't just colic, it wasn't just a fussy baby, it wasn't just an upset stomach. I feel somewhat vindicated after being given so many pats on the head and lollipops. I *knew* it was something more.

I wish they had listened to me sooner. A mother knows her baby. They should have listened.

Coos and Smiles...

...are the best in the world!

Jackson woke up today and decided that today would be "Coo And Smile At Mommy Day".

I might not even get dressed. I may just sit here in my bathrobe and "talk" to him all day long!

This is SO my life right now.

But don't you think he's worth it?

So much to be thankful for

Dear God,

You have brought so many wonderful things into my life this year. I cannot thank You enough.

Thank you for my wonderful husband. He is everything You knew I needed and wanted in a partner. Thank you for making him for me. He is a terrific father, too. I am so very thankful for him.

Thank you for my family and my friends who are as close as family to me. Thank you for giving me people who love me no matter what. These people ARE Jesus to me. They love me and sacrifice for me and are always there. Thank you for giving me such a wonderful circle of love and support. There is not a day that goes by that I am not thankful for my Posse. (Adan, Crystal, Michelle, Tracy, Michele, Kim, Sue, Alice, Brandi, Chris, Lisa and Nicole...I'm talking about YOU!)

Thank you for my son. Jackson is the most amazing thing to ever happen to me. He is a perfect, pure soul that came out of me. He takes my breath away. There aren't words to express how much I love him. He is the dream and the prayer of my heart that I longed for, for so many years. Thank you for finally giving him to me.

Thank you for my health. This year was one that I focused on keeping myself well because of my pregnancy and I am so grateful to have been successful at managing my diabetes. There were some ups and downs, but You always kept me safe.

Thank you for providing so freely for my family. You have richly rewarded my husband's hard work with a very successful career. Thank you for a comfortable lifestyle.

Thank you for my pets. Their smiles, kisses, purrs and swishing tails are full of love and devotion to me and my family. "Dog" spelled backwards is "God". Coincidence? I think not. Bella and Katie love us just as passionately, freely, and unconditionally as You do.

Thank you for everything good in my life, and help me to always remember James 1:17: "Whatever is good and perfect comes down to us from God our Father, who created all the lights in the heavens. He never changes or casts a shifting shadow." (New Living Translation)

You are so good to me. I cannot thank You enough.

Love,
Me


P.S. Happy Thanksgiving to everyone!

Persistance Pays!

Victory is mine!!!

Merry Christmas from all of us. Please ignore my gigantic post-baby hips. I'm workin' on it.

Highs and Lows

So yesterday was a crazy day.

It started out innocently enough. It actually started out pretty awesome. We were invited to a private screening for the whole family of the new film "Happy Feet" on IMAX. I didn't know much about the flick, except that it was a family-friendly animation film.

Happy Feet turned out to be AWESOME. If you plan on seeing the film, skip through this paragraph to avoid spoilers. The movie was a great one for everyone. It had some cleverly-veiled adult humor along with a great message for kids. They matched those up with a strong social responsibility message that everyone needs to hear, then set it to a rocking soundtrack with a huge feel-good vibe. Good stuff! Go see it. Take the whole family. You won't be disappointed, I promise!

After the movie on IMAX at Navy Pier, we all headed home exhausted. We all napped and fed. Some of us had a diaper change. ;) Then suddenly, without warning, the day's tide turned. And none of us even knew it was happening. My Treo's calendar beeped at me to remind me that we had to take Bella the Lab and Katie the Golden to the mall for Take Your Dog or Cat's Picture With Santa Day.

Now I know that Take Your Dog or Cat's Picture With Santa Day sounds like a really fun time but I can tell you first hand that it WAS NOT.

I carefully dressed Jack in his Baby's First Christmas outfit just in case we were able to get a family photo. I donned a red cowl neck blouse and asked Tim to wear his red and white striped button down. It was a full car on the way to the mall. We had to push my front passenger seat forward to fit the stroller behind me next to Jackson because the dogs were in the cargo area. So we all trucked down to Woodfield for our very first ever Take Your Dog or Cat's Picture With Santa Day.

On the way to the mall, Tim and I decided that he would drop me off at the door with the dogs, we would go inside to get in line for Santa pictures and Tim would park and then come in to meet us with Jackson in the stroller. After he dropped the girls and I off, I slowly made my way towards the mall door. Bella and Katie were enthralled with all the sights and sounds and all the people! Bella and Katie LOVE people. They love kids and old ladies and just everyone. They were thrilled to be meeting so many new people. Lots of strangers wanted to meet them and pet them and Bella and Katie were so excited to make their acquaintance. The three of us made our way through the mall, towards the center where the Take Your Dog or Cat's Picture With Santa Day was going on. Every few yards someone new stopped us to pet the girls. Bella and Katie were just in their glory. Katie was actually lying on the marble mall floor, giving up the belly when Mall Security approached me.

"Ma'am", he said, "You can't have dogs in the mall." I explained that it was Take Your Dog or Cat's Picture With Santa Day and we were headed to see Santa and then we were leaving right after. He said nobody had told him of the event and I said "Oh I'm sorry you weren't informed." We proceeded towards the center of the mall where Santa is.

Mall Security Man came back to me, with a backup officer in tow, to tell me "Ma'am, Take Your Dog or Cat's Picture With Santa Day is tomorrow."

I was mortified. Here I was, in the middle of Woodfield Mall, which used to be the biggest indoor shopping mall in the US until the Mall of America in Minneapolis was built, with nearly 150 pounds of shedding, slobbering dogs. I had not one but TWO large dogs. Not tiny little ankle biter chihuahuas either. Oh no. I have a 85 pound Yellow Labrador Retriever and a 55 pound Golden Retriever. These are NOT dogs you can fit in your purse. They're barely dogs we can fit in our SUV!

So Bella and Katie are now thinking that it is time to meet and make friends and shed on Mr. Mall Security and his backup unit. They're sitting and trying to give paw while I stand there, dumbstruck, apologizing profusely and explaining that I was sure that Take Your Dog or Cat's Picture With Santa Day was today.

The two security guards explain to me that no, Take Your Dog or Cat's Picture With Santa Day is tomorrow, so I will have to leave the premises with my two huge dogs immediately. That's fine and I am willing to leave but the problem is that now I am separated from Tim and Jack. I didn't bring my purse in with me, just the dogs. So I don't have my phone to call Tim and even if I did, his phone just so happened to break earlier in the day.

So let's back the bus up a minute and just review: Me, in the mall with two large dogs. Getting kicked out. Or as we geeks say, I was P0WN3D by Mall Security. Separated from husband and baby in what used to be THE LARGEST INDOOR MALL IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. I'm near tears. I'm humiliated and exhausted and convinced that I'm going to end up waiting outside the mall in the cold (did I mention I didn't bring my coat in either?) until the mall closes. Or I will have to walk home. I could walk home, it's about 5 miles. But it's freezing out and...just NO. NO! This is NOT happening to me!

And yet it was.

I explained to the security guards that I had to find my husband so we could leave. They said "well does he have a cell phone?" in a tone of voice that said "everybody on the planet has a cell phone, Crazy Lady with the two large dogs in the mall" and I explained that yes he does but it broke today.

So Mall Security had to put out an APB on my husband and I had to describe him in detail like I was giving a description to a court sketch artist of a burglar or rapist. So I tell them that he's 6'2", blonde hair, blue eyes, wearing a red and white striped shirt and blue jeans, pushing a stroller with our son in it and the stroller is beige and sage green. And his name is Tim and if they find him if they could please direct him towards the exit they are banishing me to wait outside of so we can all go home in shame.

And then my shameful walk through the mall towards my exit began. The dogs had no idea what was going on. They thought it was all a new fun adventure. We made our way back to the entrance from whence we came. We waited there patiently as mall shoppers stopped to meet Bella and Katie and pet them and tell them they were very good girls. And they were very, very good girls. Tim finally approached and said, laughing, "You got kicked out, huh?" and went to go get the Jeep. We loaded the dogs up in the back of the Jeep and headed home, Tim ribbing me the entire way over how I messed up the days.

The dogs? They were none the wiser. They thought that the field trip to the mall was AWESOME.

When we got home, I looked again at my Treo. That alarm to remind me of Take Your Dog or Cat's Picture With Santa Day? Oh, I set that to go off a day ahead of time, so on Saturday it would remind me that we had to do that on Sunday. I'm just so sleep deprived I didn't remember that I had set it that way and when I glanced at it quickly, I didn't read that it was a reminder for the next day.

In my defense, when I told Tim that we had to get ready and get to the mall for Take Your Dog or Cat's Picture With Santa Day, he didn't argue or say "I thought that was tomorrow." He said "Oh yeah, I forgot about that." So HE WENT TOO, he just didn't have the dogs. I don't understand how it is that he gets away with making fun of me when he went too. He forgot too. He screwed up too.

I mentioned to him last night over dinner that today we have our monthly Attachment Parenting group meeting at the library. He said, "Okay. You want to take the dogs?" Ha ha ha. Verrrry funny.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to start getting the five of us ready, again, for Take Your Dog or Cat's Picture With Santa Day at the mall. Hell yeah I'm going back. After all that, I'm getting my dogs' picture with Santa.

This time, it's personal.

Hi, I'm alive...

But just barely. Sleep deprived but still head over heels in love with my Depriver of Sleep. Jackson has The Colic. :(

More later.

About Bon Jovi, and trying to understand my mother

Jackson has loved music ever since before he was born. When he fusses, nothing soothes him more than a good tune. So this morning while he was throwing a little temper tantrum for no reason, I plugged in my mp3 player and sang along. And hormonal me got all choked up singing the chorus of "I'll Be There For You" to my son:

I'll be there for you
These five words I swear to you
When you breathe,
I wanna be the air for you
I'll be there for you
I'd live and I'd die for you
Steal sun from the sky for you
Words can't say what love can do
I'll be there for you

But I don't think it's just the hormones, or that Jon Bon Jovi is a particularly touching songwriter. I think it's because when I look at my son, I love him so much my heart nearly breaks. And then I try to reconcile these feelings with my own childhood experience, and it doesn't make sense. It doesn't add up.

Why didn't my own mother love me as much as I love Jack? (I tearfully asked my husband this over dinner Sunday night. He said, "Because she's crazy". I think he's onto something.)

There is nothing on this earth that I wouldn't do for my son. My love for him is fierce and loyal. It's the truest thing I've ever known.

But my mom...my mom was different. My mom told me I was stupid, fat and ugly (and I believed her for a very long time!). My mother told me she wished I was never born, and that I ruined her life. (And though I thought MANY times that maybe she shouldn't have spread her legs, I never voiced it. But oh, how I wish I had!) My mother screamed at me with a violent temper. She beat me, smacked me, punched me, yanked my hair and flung me to the floor. She did all this behind closed doors, then put on her nice Sunday School Teacher Face and was a complete hypocrite in front of everyone else, but that is another story entirely.

And then I hold Jackson, and gaze down into his eyes, into his perfectly pure, sweet little soul. And all I ever want to do is to love him and protect him and always make his world and his life the best I can. I can't imagine ever hurting him like my mother hurt me. I can't comprehend that.

I have to admit that trying to reconcile my childhood and my mother's feelings about me has been the hardest part, mentally, about being a mother. When I hold my son, I love him so much my heart almost explodes. Then I think about how my mother did not love or want me and I just can't understand it. I can't fathom ever treating my son the way my brothers and I were treated. It just doesn't make sense to me. Babies are the most precious miracles on earth, how can you not love them? I don't understand her. It's been so hard for me, because I kind of thought that maybe when I was a mother myself that I would understand her better.

I was wrong. The only thing I understand is that I will never understand her.

Happy Birthday to me from the National Football League

Last night over dinner I mused aloud to Tim, "maybe tomorrow the 49ers will win for me for my birthday!" He laughed and said "I wouldn't count on it."

And he's right. I've had a crappy season so far. I came into this week 2 and 5. I know my team sucks right now, but you can't always be the winners. Right now the Niners are in a building mode, working with a newer coach and a second year QB. I don't have much of an offense and my D is laughable. But still. I hoped. I wished. I dreamed.

I received. And as an added bonus, my game was televised in my area! So I got to watch my 6 point win over the Minnesota Vikings. Jackson was surprisingly calm as he lay in my arms, while I screamed at the TV.

The icing on my birthday gift-from-the-NFL-cake was a little local team loss. I'm not a Bears fan and ordinarily I'm not anti-Bears. But the Bears fans are out of control this year. They've had a good run lately, I'll give them that. But the second they start mentioning the "S" word, they jinx it. And they've started throwing the "S" word around like it's their destiny or birthright. They've gotten cocky and you all know that pride cometh before a fall. So it did my heart good to see the Dolphins take them down a notch.

I'll be honest. It just kind of stings a little to see all those darn happy Bears fans while I stay true blue and forever loyal to my crappy, losing team. So sandwich a Niners win with a Bears loss on a Birthday weekend...and I'm a happy camper indeed!

Annual Inventory

Another year has passed me by, and my oh my what a year it's been! My 31st year afforded me some amazing moments. I married my wonderful husband. He's the best person I've ever known. I experienced my first pregnancy. Despite the rough times, it was such an amazing journey. I gave birth to my firstborn child. He rocks my world. I was able to get back into touch with a few old friends. The internet is an amazing invention!

Overall, this has been a great trip around the sun. A really, really great year.

I'm not sure I could top it if I tried. Hopefully 32 will be just as kind to me. My 32nd year just has to be good. Anything that starts out with cake is going to be good.

Sometimes words aren't enough

One of my dear friends/blog readers who shall remain nameless is doing a very amazing thing to help us and our son. This person's kindness and generosity blows my mind. It's enough to make a hormonal new mother cry!

Sometimes God rains down goodness on you in a way that you never thought to ask for. It's times like this that makes me remember that Thanksgiving isn't just reserved for a Thursday in November. Thanksgiving can come every day, with or without turkey and cranberry sauce. But let the record show that I prefer it with the turkey and cranberry, specifically the jellied cranberry sauce that slides out of a can in a big can-shaped lump. :)

Speaking of big can-shaped lumps, I'm so overwhelmed with gratitude that I have one of those stuck in my throat right now. I'm gonna go snuggle with The Peanut.

Don't you just love him to pieces? No? Okay, then it's just me.

It's been that kind of day

Jackson received a few special Halloween outfits at our baby shower, and I picked up a couple for him for $2 each at Old Knavery yesterday. He unceremoniously serial barfed on all but one of them in succession today.

In the end, I think this lone surviving unbarfed on outfit and the accompanying facial expression best describes our day:

Too big, too fast. The past four weeks? I blinked, I missed it.

Quick, look at your calendar. Jackson is 4 weeks old today, can you believe it?

Neither can I.

Where did all that time go?

I got scammed out of his first week of life since he was in the NICU. So I've really only had 3 weeks of getting to know him. But still. Four weeks. FOUR WEEKS! He's nearly a month old. He is getting too big for his "Newborn" sized onesies. He is starting to try to lift his head on his own, his Floppy Necked days are numbered. He hangs out with his eyes closed less and spends his awake time with his gorgeous eyes wide open, taking in the world. He listened and watched intently as I sang him Little Bunny Foo Foo yesterday complete with hand motions. He responds to me. When he cries, if I tell him "It's okay, Mommy's here" he settles down a little just at the sound of my voice.

I wish he would stay my tiny little Peanut forever.

He's getting too big, too fast. As each day melts into the next, time just speeds by us. Sometimes I hold him and think "I will never have this moment again" and it makes me so sad! His little face changes every day. As each day passes, his features become more defined and he becomes less of a generic "baby" and more him.

Too big, too fast.

Happy Mean Monday

From Jackson and the hippo on his Mean Monday onesie.

Please tell me the Land of Bad Mothers isn't calling because they are missing their Queen

Jackson had a particularly spitup-y morning and I hadn't yet had a shower.

Necessity was the mother of invention, and I crafted a crude "sling" from a couple of cloth diapers (thin, dries quickly, provides just enough traction to keep a wet and slippery baby in my grasp). I strapped the kid in and we took a shower together. He kind of liked the sprinkling water (he loves his bath normally) and didn't fuss at all. Now we're both freshly bathed and warmly dressed and we're both pretty happy about it.

Please tell me it's not a Crime Against Children to take a shower with a three week old baby. Because it worked well and I just may do it again (and again and again and again) so we can both avoid becoming Smelly People.

On girlfriendship, and the family that you choose.

The past month has been exceedingly tough for me. First there was all my fear and nervousness that the pre-eclampsia would be a serious threat to my baby. Then there was my very difficult labor and delivery that did not at all go how I had wished. Then there was my struggles with nursing and not having enough of a milk supply for my baby. Now there's the sleepless nights and exhaustion. Through it all, I have had one constant buoy in the stormy sea of life.

I've had my girlfriends, the people I love who love me. The family I choose.

My friends who live as far away as across the country and as close as around the block have all been there for me, rallying me on, comforting me, listening to my problems and supporting me every step of the way.

I've never been alone during any of this. A circle of incredibly amazing ladies all made sure of it.

Not to discount the loving support of my dear husband, but there are some things that guys just don't "get" and that girls are better equipped to understand and sympathize with.

I have revealed to you my difficult childhood, and how my parents aren't a part of my life anymore (and why). My family has become not just those people I am related to through blood or marriage, but the people I let into my inner circle. My family consists of those select few that I am not afraid to be emotionally naked in front of. The people who know all my shortcomings and mistakes and love me just the same.

My heart overflows with gratitude for my family. And if you're a regular reader of my blog, chances are pretty good that definition includes you.

Let the Damn Near Anorexic Diet Begin!

Since I am sadly unable to nurse Jackson, I am attempting to make lemons out of lemonade. I can't diet while I'm nursing (at least not to the extreme that I have in the past) so I'm doing it now! Before we conceived, I had dropped about 40 lbs. by using Seattle Sutton's for 2 months and NutriSystem for 1 month. I was eating 1200 calories a day and hitting the gym for a couple of hours a day. I can't log the gym hours yet - have to stay home and take care of the bebe and plus I'm not yet cleared to go back to working out by my doctor. I still have a few weeks to heal from the c-section. But I can go back on the NutriSystem - which Tim and I are doing together (poor lamb gained some sympathy pounds during my pregnancy).

I decided to use the NutriSystem plan again because it's less expensive than Seattle Sutton's by far and it's super easy and convenient. It's become far too easy to send Tim out for take out for dinner every day and far too hard to find the time to grocery shop, meal plan and cook for us while we adjust to life with a newborn. Everything on NutriSystem is pre-packaged and shelf stable. You add milk, fruit and veggies every day to the meals. It's super easy and nearly impossible to screw up.

Soooo....here we go! Since starting the plan earlier this week, I've seen the scale drop by 4 pounds, and that's encouraging. Nothing compared to the 30 lbs. I lost in my week in the hospital...but still a great start. Stay tuned for updates...

And of course if you'd like to join me on my journey with some weight loss goals yourself, drop me a line. It's more fun to do with company along the way for encouragement!

Happy Frolic Friday

When I was pregnant, I ordered these Day Of The Week onesies for Jackson. At the time, I thought they were just a cute novelty. I had no idea how useful they would be!

You see, by dressing my child every morning, I am made aware of what day of the week it is. This is especially useful if you're a new mother whose brain has deteriorated into jello after each day runs into the next and it all becomes one big blur of dirty diapers and middle of the night feedings.

Thanks to Jack's Day of the Week onesies, I know that today is Frolic Friday. Tomorrow is Silly Saturday. Hooray, it's the weekend! When I put them away in his drawer after washing, I make sure to stack them in order so I always have the right day on top of the pile.

It hasn't happened yet, but I'm sure one day it will. My onesies will get mis-stacked and I will end up having the buzzkill of all buzzkills. I'll dress him up and celebrate

but it will really only be


You know it's going to happen and so do I. It's only a matter of time...