Cheerio Confessions

I feel like I've been complaining, a lot; however, I am being honest. Something I hope my friends and family have come to expect from me...honesty. It's so rarely seen anymore. Many don't know it when it stares them right in the face. Other's don't care to know it at all because lying is easier.

Me? I prefer the truth. I will lie on certain things. Christmas. Birthdays. Other holidays/events where gifts or surprises are involved. But in all things big and major, I tell the truth.

I like to think that's why some of you read the blog at all. Because of the honesty you'll find here. Because it's not post after post of how rosie things might be or could be or we would like them to be. We show you the honest truth. The nitty gritty of our lives, within reason. (Let's face it, something things just aren't meant for sharing. ;) lol)

Rob and I spent the better part of 7-8 hours in L&D last night. When we arrived my contractions were 10 minutes apart. Then they were 7 minutes apart. Then 5 minutes. In the end, just before I was sent home, they were 3 minutes apart and kicking my butt.

Long story short, I was "violated" 6 ways from Sunday. Had one incredibly painful IV placed about 30 minutes before my release. And monitored for 7-8 hours. In the end, I had dilated to about 2 cm (an increase from the 1 cm/40% effaced I've been for 3-4 weeks) but that wasn't enough. I needed to dilate more and faster for it to be "true labor". They sent me home.

Elliott Richard was "spending the night" at Grandma and Grandpa G's. I used that term loosely because apparently very little sleep was had.

Gavin spent the night at Grandma and Grandpa W's. Although from what I hear, sleep was hard to come by there as well.

We got home at 2-ish am. I took a Darvocet and an Ambien to help me sleep. They finally kicked in (ie won out over the contractions) at around 4-4:30am. I slept for about 4 hours total last night. My uterus contacted away. Like the "Little Engine that Could" only without the accomplishment in the end.

We woke up. I took my morning meds. Made a quick trip to Wally World for envelopes for my cards. Came home. Laid down for a while. (Contracting 7-10 minutes apart all the while.) Grandma G and Aunt Jenny brought Elliott Richard home. Hung out with my Twitter Bug until the contractions became so bad that I was clinging to the couch for support and sobbing. Grandma G and Aunt Jenny came back. Elliott Richard was gone again.

Off to L&D we went again. So sure that "this was it". So sure we would be seeing our Tiny soon. I contracted 3-5 minutes apart all the way to the hospital. I contracted during the entire trip from the ER to L&D. I contracted and I cried.

They wheeled me into L&D. My favorite nurse, Shawn, was on shift. She saw me. Then she saw the tears and lack of smile, which I usually always wear when I see her. (She is a truly special nurse in my book.) She caught on that we meant business and it might actually be it. It took a few moments to get my ID bands on because I was doubled over in pain. I finally flung my right arm out to the side so they could band me - pain or not. They debated moving my wheelchair because of the pain. I think I half mumbled, half grunted "it won't matter". So they moved me. As if I were either made of glass or going to shred their heads from their shoulders...I'm not sure which.

I climbed into bed with a lot of help from Rob. He helped me get dressed. Something that never happens due to my fierce independence streak. I think I laid my head on his chest and sobbed for a moment. I got into bed. Shawn came in. Hooked up the monitors. And as if she had flipped a switch (a very cruel and vindictive switch) it all stopped. My contractions disappeared. The few I had weren't showing up on the monitor but were obvious upon viewing and feeling my belly. It all just came to a screeching halt.

I cried.

They checked me, again. I'm still dilated to 2cm. No change. These contractions that were bringing me to my knees sobbing in pain weren't enough to get the job done.

I cried.

Shawn came back in. She zapped Tiny with a vibrator/buzzer thingie because he was asleep and they needed to see his heart rate with some increases and decells before they could release me. She placed it on my belly and *buzzt*. Tiny literally jumped from his spot head down with his back in the center of my belly to the left side of my belly. As far away from the violating "buzzt" as he could get. All in one moment, Shawn "buzzt" Tiny. Tiny jumped. And my entire uterus seized up in a massive contraction.

They were all happy with the outcome. We were discharged. The nurse who discharged me (not my beloved Shawn) said that the "seasoned nurses" swear by spicy food and sex. I've been eating spicy food. The other is a no-no while on strict bed rest, which Dr. D is adamant I continue until Tiny arrives or 37 weeks - whichever comes first.

We came home again.

Gavin is still with Grandma and Grandpa W.

Elliott was with Grandma and Grandpa G until about 2 hours ago. They were nice enough to bring him home along with Taco Bell for me (spicy food on a budget) and a sundae for Rob. Elliott fell asleep in the car. Rob carried him to bed.

I feel like a horrible mother.

I didn't get to say "amens" (aka prayers) with Elliott Richard last night or tonight. I love to say "amens" with him. I didn't get to tuck Gavin in or remind him that he needed to sleep and turn the TV off at 10pm last night or tonight.

When Tiny comes, if Heaven forbid he is in the NICU, I know I will camp out at the hospital. I will not leave. I will sleep in whichever room they see fit to give me. I will drag myself from bed every 3 hours to help feed him. I will pump enough milk to put most dairy cows to shame. I will ask questions. I will beg for chances to change diapers and watch baths. I will stalk my son, his nurses, his doctors and anyone else who may possibly have information on his progress and prognosis. My life Gavin and Elliott Richard, will be placed on hold. I will miss them. I will love them (no less or no more than Tiny). But I will be where I am needed most. And so the good of the two will stumble while I focus on the good of the one.

There is no doubt in my mind that Rob will at some point attempt to lure me home. Attempt to lure me back to normalcy. I can't fathom that. I can't fathom a sense of "normalcy" with one child fighting for life while the other two live. I can't make that work out in my head.

In the end of July, I will be summoned to court. To defend myself against charges that have no basis within the scope of the real world. I will be drug my newborn child. Ripped away from him. I will likely be his only source for food. And yet, I will go. I will go because in the end of July, just as those few days from now, I will fight for the good of the one. While the good of the two must suffer. I will be angry. I will be hormonal. It's likely that I will be blunt, which may or may not work to my favor. However, the fact will remain that for that day Gavin will be the good of the one. Elliott Richard and Tiny will be the good of the two placed on temp hold.

Until then, I am trying to find a way to survive. The contractions on a 10 on the lovely pain scale (that we all know I love so much) of 1-10. (1 being no pain at all and 10 being "a shark could be ripping my limbs off and I would not notice") I'm so tired that Ambien on an empty stomach still takes 3 hours to kick-in over the pain. I'm so frustrated with my body and it's sudden unwillingness to follow through. When I've been fighting it for 4 months to NOT follow through. I'm so frustrated that I struggle to see and feel the miracle that is every movement of Tiny within my belly. And this makes me feel horrible beyond words.

How many women would die to be me at this very moment? How many would love nothing more and yet will not be granted such a miracle? What right do I have to complain and be irritated with the miracle that is our unborn son, when I myself was told 3 years that he was a complete and total impossibility.

For all of these things, and many other things that simply were unable to penetrate my sleep-hazy mind, I will not be awarded "Mother of the Year". I am sorry to disappoint. I am a mother. I am a human. I am not Super Mom. At least, I'm honest about it. That counts for something, right?

We're home. I have a throbbing migraine. I'm physically exhausted. My contractions are painful and my nurse told me not to second guess myself, that I know my body better than anyone. I've eaten some waffles. Took my meds for the migraine and ambien to sleep through the contractions. Now i just wait for it all to kick in.

So until later today, good night.

It's now 11:38pm. I'm beyond caring about grammar and spelling etc so ignore the typos.

Here's the run down:

BP: 112/72 (which is kinda high for me)
Tiny's Heartbeat: 131 bpm
Pulse: 101 bpm
Weight: 181 lb (from Dr. D's office)
Fundal height: 36 cm (from Dr. D's office)
Cx: 3 minutes apart
Dilated: 2 cm

Intern/resident guy just came back in and checked me again. I'm still only dilated to 2 cm, which means I'm not in "true labor" (bull****!) and they are sending me home.

I'm not sure, but I may kill someone. If I commit a crime while in labor (true or not) does that automatically qualify me as "temp insane"?

Thank God they started my ultra painful IV and humilated me 6 ways from Sunday just to send me home!

Argh!

35 weeks appears to be the limit. Contractions are 10 minutes apart. Have been that way all day. Some feel closer than 10 minutes to me. I feel like I'm leaking but at this point who knows. They will not help me along unless my water breaks. Something had better freaking happen because these are exhausting. I'm going in. If they send me home, fine. But I don't know that they will.

If you pray, do it now! We don't have a name. I'm shaking. I'm exhausted. I'm so not ready.

PRAY! PRAY! PRAY!

What Tiny's up to this week: Congratulations! You’re now carrying nearly 6 lbs of baby not counting their amniotic fluid, the umbilical cord, or the placenta itself. We’re impressed because that’s a LOT of work non-stop. Are you feeling proud of yourself yet? Well, get to it—you’ve done an amazing job! At this point, your little grower is almost busting out of the womb size-wise, which make their restricted attempts to move much more challenging. Of course, your stubborn little sucker is still trying to move around as if they weren’t in a cramped space. And the accumulationg baby fat deposits are starting to level off so your little butter ball will be padded and warm when they head out of their super snug little home.

So if I was carrying "nearly 6lbs of baby" last week what does that mean for this week?

Some of you may remember I gave up my prized xbox 360 Elite (which was my only outlet) in order to replace our video camera. It was really the only thing I had left I hadn't sold off. I hung on to it as long as I could but I decided I would rather have the ability to record and document our lives (which I love to do) then play video games.
Well I used my fathers day gift (Best Buy gift card) to get Call of Duty 4 for my PC (which is actually pretty high because of my video editing and computer repair work I do for people out of my home office).

I had mistakenly assumed that I could use my wireless 360 controller for this game (like you can with most new games). Turns out you can't and that really sucked. I have never been able to use a mouse and keyboard to play a game like this. I used to play my xbox Live friends in Call of Duty 4 for the 360 all the time after the kids went down at night.

After a day or 2 of really being mad at myself for not checking the controller info out before getting something I cannot return, I decided to try the mouse and keyboard because I LOVE this game. Not that anyone cares but I am actually getting pretty good at it now. Once I beat the single player game I may try online.

This is the only good news I have to post. It's stupid but it's all I got at this point. It's the little things.......

Sha'Nay'Nay is my alter ego. She's the name I go by when I've had enough of my life and I want to be someone else for a while. That's the name I answer to when I can't stand the sound of Mom, Mommy, Mama, Lizze etc. Although no one calls me that anyway so I honestly don't know why I bother.

I've been trying to formulate a blog in my head all day. Nothing sounds good. Nothing does justice to life. And I don't want to sound like "Wendy Whiner" as my Daddy used to call me. Mostly, I just don't really know where to start.

My stomach is killing me. I can say with complete sincerity that I have rarely had pain like this in my life. And I've injured myself quite a bit between 8 years of gymnastics and being a typical hyperactive kid growing up. At least with all of my various injuries, the pain peaked and then began to subside at some point. There is no peak. There is no subsiding. It's just a plateau of intense pain at this point. My stomach/diaphragm muscle is so exhausted from the pain of it all that I can physically feel tremors in it.

You know, rarely in my life have I ever been speechless. I just love to talk. I usually have an opinion on just about everything. But now...I've got nothing. That's how overwhelmed and far gone I am at this point with everything. Rob met with Pattie tonight. He's told me what was discussed. I don't remember it. I'm sure he'll tell you what he can later.

I was a complete slacker today. I didn't make any cards. I didn't update Tiny's pregnancy journals and calendars. I played solitaire on my phone. Watched a lot of pointless television. Napped off and on. And now I'm going to take half of my night-time medications and then I'll take the other half later. Who knows, perhaps I'll have something insightful to babble about once they kick in. Seems to be how it works out every other night. *sigh*

My nightime medications are slowly starting to kick in, which means I'm becoming "chatty cathy". (lol) I debated between discussing the neighborhood drama of late and discussing what my current favorite shows are. I'm going with neighborhood drama for $200. (haha)

Let's see...where to start. We have an issue in our neighborhood with the teenie-bopper boys who like to imagine they tough guys. The one kid's mother seems to almost be afraid of her son. Her daughter seems to believe her younger brother is a "good kid who don't cause no trouble". Apparently she missed him getting hunted down by the cops for fire starting the other day. I'm sure the cops must have misunderstood him. (sarcasm)

Well, lately the teenie-boppers have acquired a basketball hoop (the details of the acquition are shady and hazy and still remain unclear) and begun playing basketball in the street. Now while this isn't necessarily an issue, it becomes an issue because Team Teenie-Bopper doesn't like to play by the same street rules we all followed growing up. *We* had fear of the massive vehicles plowing down the street. *We* respected the fact that they could (and just might) flatten us into asphault pancakes. Team Teenie-Bopper has decided that *we* should fear and respect *them* so long as they are playing basketball. The scene from "Wayne's World" of 'game on' and 'game off' for traffic, doesn't happen here. If we ask them not move with either civilized words or a beep of the horn, we are rewarded with a few colorful choice words or certain fingers being flashed our way. Then they continue to play. Leaving us with the choice to try and drive around them or wait for them to allow us through or just plowing through and ending up on the 6 o'clock news. And they know they we would never go for option 3.

We've called the cops. They made them move the hoop. Only to have it back in the street 20 minutes after the cops have left. We've tried to talk nicely to the older sister, which led to a verbal argument between the sister and my other neighbor (who is very cool). My neighbor called Teenie-Bopper's mom at work and told her that we (the neighborhood) are not going to put up with his behavior anymore. His mom said she's asked her kids to behave or the will get evicted but they don't feel there is anything wrong with their actions.

When did parents become so terrified of their own children? Granted, there are times when Rob and I are terrified of Gavin; however, this is a completely different situation. Gavin's anger and almost un-natural strength when he's enraged make him terrifying. We don't fear him lashing out in general. We fear him actually harming himself or one of us in a blind rage. She seems to fear TB because his behavior is so out of control and she knows she helped create that, that now she doesn't know how to undo it. So she fears him. (Did that make sense?)

It's sort of sad though. Because she lost control of her kids, they will likely lose their home. Only the kids are too self-centered and self-destrctive to care. It's just sad. But at the same time, we live here too and it's only right that we should be able to drive the streets without having to worry about running someone down.

I don't remember being told that being a grown up was going to be about making sure your neighbor's kids are raised properly as well as raising your own children. I don't recall any clause to that effect when I signed on to this parenting gig 9 years ago. *sigh*

I'm not looking for perfection here. I'm looking for responsibility. I'm looking for decent parenting skills. I'm looking for some humanity. Is any of that really so much to ask for? Or are my expectations simply set to high? I mean, I get the whole "boys will be boys" or "just leave them alone, they're kids" mentality. However, at the same time, the kids need to have a basic understanding of respect. Respect for others. Respect for self. It's one thing to ride your bike down the biggest hill in your neighborhood at 12noon. It's something entirely different to ride your bike down that same hill at midnight while screaming at the top of your lungs, ya know? Or like while treasure hunting...the *only way* to get to that "uncharted plot of island" was through three or four different neighbors yards. You could get there. You could even cross through those yards to do it but that didn't mean you had to trample Mrs. Smith's prize roses to get there, you know?

Simple respect. Respect for every little thing. For other people, whether you like them or not. Whether you agree with their lifestyles or beliefs.

I just can't help but wonder when things went from respect based living, to gimme-gimme-mine -mine-mine based living snd how do we get back to the way things usued to be.

As my amazing wife posted earlier, we are at a loss trying to come up with a name. Lizze and I are overwhelmed. We are physically and emotionally exhausted from the past 7 years. So I am reaching out to you guys for some help...

We need ideas for a first and middle name. We are having a tough time putting thoughts together let alone come up with something this important.

So please post a comment to this blog with a name idea or ideas....


Thanks in advance for your time. Hopefully this should prove to be fun..

Thanks

I just wanted to take a minute and welcome those of you that are new here. Lizze and I were so excited to here from you guys today... Your kind words, thoughts and prayers are much appreciated.

We love to hear from all of you. Again, welcome. We hope to hear from you again.....

There is no way we could ever repay all the kindness you amazing people have shown us since we made this blog public. Please know we keep each and everyone of you in our thoughts and prayers. Thank You...

Honestly, I don't know if today is day 98. I've lost track. Not that it matters much. The whole point is that I've been on strict bed rest now for over 3 months! And bed rest in general for just over 4 months. Insanity.

Tomorrow is my second to last appointment with Lisa. It's bitter sweet because while I will definitely miss her. I will not miss the injections. (lol)

I just can't believe that we are winding down to the end. It seems like just the other day I was "late" and shocked to find myself carrying another little miracle. (Never tell me I can't do something because that's a sure-fire way to guarantee it. lol)

Now of course Tiny is massive. His butt in planted in my ribs and causing pain pretty darn close to what I had with the DVT while pregnant with Elliott Richard. I would double over with the pain, except that bending at the "waist" (my waist disappeared a long time ago lol) makes the pain worse. So I just try and stretch out as much as possible to minimize the pain. It's actually making living and functioning quite unbearable at the moment.

We still don't have a name for Tiny. I've resigned myself to one of a few things taking place:

1) I will simply put "Tiny" on his birth certificate and be done with it. (Not likely but looking more appealling everyday.)
2) I will just let Rob fill out the paperwork and wash my hands of the whole thing. (Again, not likely but looking more appealling everyday.)
3) I will just open a baby name book and name him the first thing I place my finger on. (Girl or boy, I don't care at this point.)

Rob has been trying to discuss names lately and I honestly want nothing at all to do with it. The idea of discussing names physically turns my stomach. Gavin is convinced Tiny's name is Alex and when I explain that we don't know what his name is I get screamed at. *sigh* I honestly hate all names at this point. Rob asked me for my top picks the other day. I don't have any. I hate them all. None of them feels right. None of them sounds right. I'm just over-loaded on stupid baby names. I mean honestly, do I look like a chick that needs more pressure right now?! *pfth* Whatever. Forget it.

I was going to write more but the pain in my belly is getting worse. I keep expecting to look where it hurts and see a bruise there. I'm always surprised when it isn't there. I have cards to get done. A mess to clean up from making the cards that need finished. And I have to try and maintain some sanity through this pain. (Not likely.)

98 down ~ 37 to go

Wow. I can't believe the weekend flew by so quickly. Not that weekends hold any "special" meaning apart from the rest of the week at this point. But anywho...

Let's see if I can remember what went on this weekend.

Friday - Gavin spent the night with Grandma W. Rob, Elliott Richard and I stayed in and hung out. Same song; different day.

Saturday - Rob, Elliott Richard and I hung out. I worked on cards. Rob fiddled with the desktop and straightened up around the house. Elliott Richard spent most of the day with Aunt Kate and Grandma G doing some running around and shopping. After Grandma W brought Gavin home the three of us packed up and headed over to Grandma and Grandpa G's to celebrate Father's Day. Everyone was there. And I was thrilled to learn that even though we were "fashionably late" we hadn't missed out on the cookout! (Yippee!) And I ate *way* too much food. (lol)

Grandpa G got a set of ceramic coasters that look like big golf balls. (Very cute.) He also got an Indian's jersey and tickets for him and Mom G to an Indian's game. Mom G got an Indian's t-shirt too! (Very cool!) They are both really excited to go.

Then Rob opened his card from everyone and found a gift certificate for Best Buy inside! :) (Thanks guys!) We left not long after the opening of gifts/cards and of course made a beeline for Best Buy. (lol) Rob picked out a game for the PC while the boys and I waited in the car. Which was *loads* of fun. (That's sarcasm, by the way.)

First, Elliott Richard was moving around in his carseat. He wasn't touching Gavin or even attempting to touch him. Yet Gavin decided he didn't like the fact that Elliott was moving in his general area so he began to scream at Elliott and then scream at me to "make him stop". I told Gavin I can't yell at Elliott for *moving*. Which of course set Gavin off further. *sigh* Then Elliott wanted Gavin's attention for something so he said his name. Which set Gavin off, again! That time Gavin began screaming at me, "Mom! Mom! He's saying my name! Tell him to stop! I don't want him saying my name!" Again I told Gavin that Elliott is free to say whatever he likes (barring cuss words etc) and I would not yell at Elliott for saying Gavin's name. Which set him off, again! At that point I just told Gavin to ignore Elliott because I refuse to yell at Elliott for taking up space or taking and there was nothing else that could be done.

I am honestly at a loss for what to do anymore. While Gavin has every right to feel the way he does. And while I understand that a large part of it is due to his "something more". I will *not* reprimand Elliott Richard for merely existing, taking up space, or talking etc. That's not to say that I won't reprimand Elliott if he actually misbehaving (ie right up in Gavin's face, screaming at him etc) because I will. The same will hold true for Tiny. I don't mean to sound cold or heartless but I will not constantly relocate Tiny and myself because Gavin is upset by his crying. I also will not reprimand Elliott Richard for being a little boy because it doesn't jive with Gavin's view of the world. I know he can't help it. I just don't know how we live wth him/along side him. With two small boys under the age of 3 and Gavin that's something that needs to be figured out. *sigh*

Sunday - Father's Day was pretty quiet around here. Grandma and Grandpa G took the boys to see Great Grandpa B and celebrate Father's Day with Grandma G's side of the family. They had a blast! And Rob and I were given one last little break before the sleep deprivation begins. :)

Overall, it was a pretty low-key weekend, which was nice. At least there wasn't anything too out of the ordinary or stressful going on.

Now I need to find a way to make something smoothered in cheese for dinner....yum....gooey cheese...

So I'm swiping a line from Mr. Rogers here. The people that you meet each day...this blog's for you. (Now I'm swiping from Bud Weiser. Lol)

Dear random neighbor,

While I appreciate your zest for life and love of family, it truly is un-necessary for you to stand in the middle of the road to discuss such personal matters as: baby-momma payments (otherwise known as child support), who the new baby-momma is (and whether it's considered 'cheating' if you are just booty-calls etc.). It definitely is not advisable to proclaim how strong you are and what a wonderful job you are doing in not "pulliing yo baby-momma out-tha-car for a beat down" just moments before you reach *into the open driver's side window* to smack your baby-momma. Not smart. Remember, avoiding angry neighbors and calls to the police is just like real estate. It's all about location, location, location.

Dear many not-so-random neighbors,

With the discovery of the automobile eventually came to invention of the horn. It's a fabulous liitle invention. Always available while driving to share your emotions when words just aren't enough. Or when words *are* enough but you really don't need them repeated (remember the situation in daycare that just got cleaned up from last month? Yeah, that's my point...)That's why we were given the horn. To replace the "eff you's" with "beep beep's". However, it is a gross misuse of "The Power of the Horn" to use it as a doorbell.

Yes, I realize that you are "busy" and very likely lost in your own head going over and over a list of everything that needs to done. But honestly, would it kill you to pull up (which you do anyhow), place the car in park (again, which you likely do anyway), and then rather than continuing with the current method (which includes leaning on your horn at all hours of the day and night until *someone* responds) you could deviate and be considerate of the rest of the block. Rather than honking us all into insanity or simply a blinding-sleep-deprived rage, you could get out and go up to the door and knock or ring the actual doorbell. Just as effective in the long run with only slightly more effort involved. Of course, if the sole purpose of using the horn is to save you from having to actually *move* (Gasp! The horrors!) then you aren't likely to knock on the door. So how about you pick up your cell phone and only disturb ONE household; as opposed to the whole block? Just a thought...

Dear dog-lovers in our neighborhood,

Just to clear a few things up that may have confused you:

No, I do not think your unleashed, unregistered, and likely very dangerous (beit by breeding or by training or both) Pit Bull is cute/sweet/well-trained (insert various adjectives here). Your dog terrifies me and I do not want to make friends with him/her. As such, you allowing said pooch to roam the neighborhood does not give me warm fuzzies. It gives me great pause and reason to call the dog warden in order to protect myself, my family and my neighbors. So save us all the time, hassels, and heart palipations and get a leash or leave Fluffy in the house.

Yes, dogs will bark. And yes, smaller dogs will usually bark more than most. (Gotta love that "Little Man Syndrome".) Admittedly, at first it did not bother me. Then I realized that it did not bother you either. Ever. I also later realized that your dogs spend nearly all day, everyday out in the fenced in yard. So rather than barking a few times a day, we now have it all day, everyday. Thank you for that. My life is now complete.

I think I'm done now. (lol)

PS This blog was meant as a tongue-in-cheek sort of vent. And odds are if you know about this blog and have read this one; it does NOT apply to YOU. :)

I just love when teeny-boppers call *my* cell phone and give me attitude and lip. Here's how the call went: (remember her voice was high-pitched and attitudey in that way only a teenage girl can pull off)

Me: Hello? (I didn't know the number.)
TB (Teeny-Bopper): Hi!
Me: Uh...hi?
TB: Hi! (can't you just picture her doing that head bobble thing?)
Me: Ummm...
TB: (catching on): Uh...who are YOU?
(remember she called ME!)
Me: Who are you looking for?
TB: Oh, for-get it! (click)

Yeah, so I just love getting those phone calls.

(That's sarcasm by the way.)

So lately I've had to start taking an Ambien at night to sleep through the contractions (that accomplish nothing) and the back pain (which also accomplishes nothing). Ambien is a wonderful thing for a 34 week bed-rest bound pregnant woman. I still wake up if I have to pee or if Elliott Richard needs me. But I do not wake up for half-hearted contractions,, charlie-horses or stabbing siatic back pain. Unfortunately, I have developed a tendancy to have off-the-wall conversations with Rob (in person) and Nikky (via text messages). (lol) And the dreams I have towards the end, when it's wearing off, are...quite...interesting.

Take last night's dream for example, I dreamt that I woke up in bed next to Rob and I had slept through most of labor and pushing! I awoke to find Tiny's head already out and looking at me!! (Ack!) In my dream, I wasn't freaked out by the fact that his head was out and he was looking up at me. He had the cutest chubby cheeks and a head full of hair. (Gavin was born completely bald. Elliott Richard had some strawberry blonde peach fuzz that was either shaved off or pulled out during IV's etc in the NICU.) I just finished pushing and out he came.

It was kind of nice because everything was very calm and peaceful. No second guessing. No running around like chickens with our heads cut off. Just pushing and snuggling. Although I prefer for that "pushing and snuggling" to take place within the safety of my local L&D. (lol)

Rob said he had a dream about Tiny being born as well. Perhaps he'll share that later because I haven't heard the details of it yet.

We are supposed to go to Mom & Dad G's tonight to celebrate Father's Day. I think it will depend on how I'm feeling as to whether or not we go. For now, I'm off to work. (haha) The cards won't make themselves, that's for sure. ;)

95 down ~ 40 to go

So I've had like 4 or 5 different appointments this week. I can't believe I haven't updated on any of them.

Actually, I can believe I haven't updated on them. I haven't updated because my laptop died. It's official. It's dead and gone. So now I have to use the desktop. I don't like using the desktop. It's a perfectly lovely little desktop. And I'm sure Rob could tell you all about all the bells and whistles that it has, which make it a really cool (sweet, awesome - insert adjective here). But the fact of the matter is, I'm spoilt. I was used to writing my blog and surfing the net where ever I was at any given moment. I was used to not having to share. Now I have to share. And I may be crazy but I think this keyboard hates me. (I'm just throwing that out there.) So it's more difficult for me to post now.

Anyway, here's the run down of the appointments:

Tuesday June 10th - Lisa came bright and early at 8:00am. (For what it's worth, when I set up the standing weekly appointment at 8:00am every Tuesday I was already up. Now that school is out, not so much.) I can't find the stats for that appointment. So we'll just assume that all was well in the land of Tiny.

Wednesday June 11th - As Rob previously posted I was scheduled to have my BPP and NST at the hospital at 7:00pm, however, they called and asked me to come in at 3:00pm because the tech who was scheduled to perform my NST called in sick. This meant that the family members we had invited could not make it because they were all at work. It also meant that we had to run around like chickens with our heads chopped off in order to get everyone ready and where they needed to be. In the end, everyone got ready. Everyone got where they needed to be. Here are the stats:


After the BPP we went upstairs to L&D (my favorite place to be) for my NST. It went pretty smoothly. I had a few contractions but nothing major and was released after 30-45 minutes. Here are those stats:


Thursday June 12th - We saw Dr. D at 11:00am. I asked him about feeling woozy lately. Told him about my extreme nausea. Was given a refill on my Phenergan. And had my blood sugar and iron levels checked. He also said that if I go into labor before 37 weeks, he won't try and stop it. He'll just let me go and allow Tiny to make his grand entrance. He also gave me an end date for this all. He said that if I make it to 37 weeks, he will release me. So at 37 weeks I can stop taking the Procardia, no more Heparin injections and full release from bed rest. (Yippee!) So the end is in 3 weeks unless Tiny decides otherwise. Here are the stats from that appointment:


I turned out to be slightly anemic so they started me on iron suppliments. I made the mistake of taking them a few hours ago and all they did was make my nausea worse. So now I'm hot and nausous and I can't get it to go away even with the Phenergan.

(PS I'll scan the ultrasound pics and post them later. Oh and the spinkle pictures and belly pictures too.)

94 down ~ 41 to go

I'm so far past overwhelmed at this point that I can't even see "overwhelmed" anymore. My pregnancy is nearing the end and while that's amazing because we've made it this far; it also sucks. I want it to be over because I'm in so much pain and I can't seem to find any relief. But I don't want it to be over because I feel like I haven't had a decent chance to really enjoy this pregnancy. It feels as if every moment has been about everything and everyone else. And the few moments that weren't about everything and everyone else, were spent trying to figure out "should we call", "should we go in".

I'm tired. I'm stressed. I don't even really know which way is up anymore.

I go to bed every night and I pray. I pray that God will give me more patience. That tomorrow we won't have massive meltdowns every hour, how about every two hours? I pray that Gavin will not physically lash out at Elliott Richard because Elliott had the audacity to love him. I pray that Elliott Richard will finally realize that he cannot touch, cuddle, snuggle or even talk to Gavin. I pray that his sense of self-preservation will kick in and he will learn to avoid Gavin. I pray that the next day won't be as exhausting as the one before. I pray that God will help me to find a way, any way to make it work with three boys. I pray that we haven't dug ourselves in too deep. I pray to make it through one more day pregnant with Tiny. Then I pray that Tiny comes soon because I don't know how much longer we can keep going like this. I pray that God will show me the way and be obvious about it because I'm so tired that subtleties are lost on me right now. I pray that God will just tell me what Tiny's name is meant to be; because we are struggling to find one and that's just one more thing on the pile right now. I pray that Tiny will be "typical" because I don't know that we could handle another child "with something more" and Elliott Richard deserves to have a sibling he can relate to. I pray that if I am to have Tiny early, that it's also obvious. I need a gush of fluid or contractions every 3 minutes apart. Anything that screams "This is it!" and leaves no room for guessing.

Mostly, I pray for help. Over and over again. "God, please help me." I pray for it until I fall asleep.

Sometimes I wonder if God can hear me. Other times I know he must hear me because I scream it inside my head. I scream it so loudly that my head hurts. A piece of my heart breaks with every scream. Surely God can hear that. Surely he must know how absolutely terrified I am. How I'm terrified I will miss a subtle change in my pregnancy. A change that if caught would mean Tiny lives. But once missed, means he is lost to us forever. Surely he must know how I think of myself. How everyone proclaims to see this wonderful, giving mother and all I see is a failure. I failed to protect Gavin from the abuse. I failed to protect him after we left, which was my sole purpose in leaving - to protect Gavin. How I fail everyday to find a level on which to relate to Gavin. How I fail to accomplish everything that needs done. How I fail to be strong enough, smart enough, calm enough. Surely he can hear my cries begging him to make me more. Make me better. Make me stronger. Make me more. Surely God knows how much we need him. How quickly we are drowning. Sinking faster than the Titanic. Surely he hears us and knows. "God, please help me."

People send me forwards. Funny forwards. Religious forwards. Heart-breaking fowards. I get them all. I read them sometimes. The religious ones always give me a moment to pause and think. Grandma Gene sent me one weeks ago. It showed a man walking and he was hit by a tiny pebble. But to that man, that tiny pebble might as well have been a boulder. He stops and he turns around and screams. He screams because he's had enough. He screams because that pebble got through and while the pebble was tiny to God, it was huge to the man. He screams until he notices Jesus standing there. Shielding the man from all the other hundreds of pebbles and boulders and stones that are being thrown. Jesus looks down at the man and says, "Sorry, I must have missed one."

I get it. For every pebble, for every boudler, for every stone that we are hit with; God is shielding us from many, many more. I get the meaning of it. I don't feel it. But logically, I get it. I just wish I could feel it too. I wish the few that get through, didn't feel so big and life altering.

Rob has been updating about the goings-on in our household lately. However, there are a few things I want to say as well. (I wrote this but somehow I ended up signed in under Rob's user info. I would repost it to correct it but we'd lose the comments.)

What kind of world are we living in? That our legal system is so quick to trumpet "Family Re-unification", "Save the Family"; and therefore so quick to toss the best interests of the child to the side of the road. I'm all for family re-unification. If, and only if, it is in the best interest of the child. I'm sorry if a parent is an alcoholic, an addict, mentally ill or abusive, or they simply don't care enough to be involved. I feel for them. However, it is not our responsibility to follow these "adults" around and try and force them into roles they obviously have no interest in or are simply incapable of filling. It is not our responsibility to make sure they do the right thing. If they choose the substance, the illness or the actions above the child; they have made their choice. Why should we continue to give them second, third and fourth chances to make "the right choice"?

If I have $50 and I choose to spend it on myself rather than on my children. That is my choice. I have made it. Was it the right choice, not likely but that is something I (and unfortunately my children) will have to live with. No one is going to follow me around while I'm shopping with my $50 and ask me repeatedly, "Are you sure that's what you want?" Why should we follow these "parents" who have made their decisions around continually asking, "Are you sure that's what you should be doing?"

It sucks that the children pay the price for our follies. It sucks that they will remember someday that Mommy or Daddy made the wrong decision. It sucks that those children will likely harbor ill-will towards their "parents" for the decisions they have made. But that's life. We cannot possibly protect our children from everything because then they would experience nothing. That's not life.

Life is painful and bloody and ugly. Yet at the same time it's sweet and beautiful and joyful. When we attempt to protect them from everything, we deny them the opportunities to experience life in all it's beautiful, twisted glory.

While we can't protect them from everything; in today's legal system it seems nearly impossible to protect them from anything. Including the big bad wolf that is known and knocking down our door. Nevermind trying to protect them from the big bad wolf that lurks in the shadows and is yet unknown.

What use is it to be a child's sole custodian when your opinion in the "best interest" of your child, doesn't matter. Logically, we should be the one's who know our children best. And therefore are most equipped to say "Yes, little Johnny can handle this." or "No, that's way too much and would throw little Johnny into a tale-spin." Yet, when we attempt to do this. When we attempt to fulfill our roles as advocates for our children, the courts label it as "parental alienation" or "custodial interference". They chastise us and say, "Bad parents! How dare you!" and slap us on the wrist for speaking up.

All the while we have the "non-custodial parent" on the other side of the court room. Drunk and stoned half out of their minds and the court commends them for showing up at all. It doesn't matter that they are under-the-influence, after all, isn't it great that they showed up! "Yay for the non-custodial parent! You came to court to fight for your child drunk and stoned! Here! Have a gold star!"

How did we get here? How did we manage to jump from one extreme to the next? It used to be that men automatically received custody because they were the man of the house and society was a "good ole boys club". Then it was the mother automatically received custody because they were the mothers and it was cruel to take a child from its mother. Now it's supposed to be a fair game. It's supposed to be the child "wins" and the best parent for the job receives sole custody. But that's not quite right either. Now it's the parent with the most money, the best attorney or the smarmiest attorney (the attorney who is willing to win at all costs of self-respect and reputation), or the best connections wins.

Some people will deny this. You can tell these people by their indignation at the idea of a biased legal system. And God bless them for it. Those few people are the only ones keeping our entire legal system from sinking forever into this moral quagmire we have created for ourselves. They are the ones on the street corners protesting. They not only know what the Bill of Rights are; but they exercise those rights. Our country has found itself in an on-going popularity contest. With our citizens going with the "popular vote"; rarely going against the grain to stand up and say "I'm going to do what's right".

Unfortunately, until we can find our way out of this disaster we've created for ourselves...until we can truly become "one nation under God, indevisible, with liberty and justice for all" our children will continue to find themselves stuck in the middle. Bad parenting won't be a negative thing because what does it matter if you are a bad parent; if no one else cares. Children will be lost in the system. Hearts will be shattered and bruised and the "cure" will be getting even. Our children will continue to look in the wrong places for love. They will continue to turn to deaf ears for help. Parents and children will continue to place their faith (the only thing some of them have left) in a legal system that proclaims to protect them. Only to have their hopes dashed and their faith lost because the "good guys" rarely win. And the "bad guys" rarely see justice.

Well today has been very busy. We were very excited today because we were having another ultrasound tonight at 7pm. Also my brother Jon his wife Teri and my sister Kate were coming to see the baby. We tried even when we were pregnant with Elliott to involve people in the pregnancy but no one was really interested or able to really be involved.... So we were really excited at the idea that they were going to come with us. This may be the last ultrasound for us EVER (no more kids)....

Then the phone rang and the hospital canceled the 7pm ultrasound and moved it to 3pm. We had to scatter to change plans with the baby sitter (my mom) and be there in about 30 minutes from the time of the call. Needless to say no one was able to make it to the new time... That really sucked...

Then on the way home I was going to hit our McDonald's that we always hit on our way home from the hospital and guess what, it wasn't there. Apparently it was torn down a few days ago.... ARRRRGGGHHHHH

Gavin has been, well, Gavin today. He held nothing back. He started the day by screaming at Elliott for touching him.... Poor Elliott is so confused because Gavin is rejecting his affection.... Hopefully as Elliott gets older he will understand and not take it personally.......

Lizze is miserable and getting worse as the end draws near. She is in tons of pain and cannot get comfortable at all. The weather has cooled down so that's a plus....

Lizze has been creating away on her cards. New ones will be posted soon. Be sure to check out her fathers day cards there are still a few left.

Over all today wasn't to bad.......

What Tiny is up to this week: Your amazing baby is on the move! They’ve been riding fairly high in your stretched-out womb till now (while kindly compressing your poor internal organs), but now they’re planning on making the big move to your pelvis this week. If you haven’t noticed it already, you’ll be feeling the weight shift that signals that your baby is most likely out of breech position, with their head now resting on your pubic bone. In liver news: although not quite fully formed, your little miracle’s liver is now capable of processing a certain amount of waste. In general, most of your child’s prenatal physical development is pretty much up to snuff and ready for the outside world. Naturally, further weight gain is expected—so you’re still not at maximum capacity despite probably feeling like you definitely are maxed out.