Being married to a boy and being the mother of 2 boys, I've learned just how obsessed boys are with their penises. I always knew that men were obsessed, I just didn't know how young the obsession started. This will be my post dedicated to the many penis stories. There is no pun intended here, but I'm sure this particular post will lengthen over time as, like I've said, boys are obsessed with their penises. Shawn explains this by saying that the penis is the first toy boys are given, the one that gets played with the most and the one they enjoy forever. Who am I to argue?
The first truly great penis story is from when Nick was about 2 years old. He has just gotten out of the bath and was running around naked. He climbed up and was standing in the bay window on the back of our couch. Not really a problem if he had clothes on, but I'm pretty sure the neighbors don't need to see naked Nick pressed up against the glass in all his naked glory. In an attempt to get Nick to come down without argument, Shawn thinks it's a good idea to say to Nick, "you better get out of that window before a bird thinks your penis is a worm and swoops down and eats it". Now I agree that this would persuade a little boy to climb out of the window. Unlike Shawn, I, however, posses the ability to realize that, in the very near future, we will regret him having said that. Said regret comes in the form of Nick, every time his penis is exposed (think diaper changes) shouting out, "don't eat my penis"! Shawn thought this was hysterical. Shawn was not the one who had to explain this to the teachers at Nick's daycare. Jessica was mortified.
I'm not sure how old Nick was when this one took place, but I would guess between 2 and 3 years old. Again, he was in the bath. I was sitting on the toilet reading a book while he played in the water. This was pretty much my down time for the evening. I heard Nick suck in air with such velocity I was surprised the shower curtain was still in tact. I look over and he has the most fascinated, excited facial expression. Then he speaks. Are you ready for it? It's a good one. He has his sack in his hand and proclaims, "mommy, I finally found it!!! I found my farts!!!" After I caught my breath and stopped laughing it dawned on me, this little discovery probably bought me another year or so before I have to explain what a scrotum really is and what it's for. Bonus!
About a year ago, Nick was taking a bath with another little boy. He was only 3 at the time and I didn't think this would be an issue. Nick is my older son and I'm learning, I really am. I now know that 3 years old is probably too old to bathe with other boys that are not your little brother. I know this because during the bath, Nick looks at the other boy's penis and says, "my penis is bigger than yours". I also now know that the competition starts much younger then I would have ever, ever imagined.
About a month ago Nick and I were hanging out in the playroom. Nick was climbing around on the metal futon that we have down there - something Shawn and I have repeatedly told him not to do. As he's climbing over the arm of the futon, he slips and falls. He falls hard. He smashes his mommy-daddy button right on the metal corner of the arm of the futon. After only a moment of surveying the damage, Nick seems to decide this incident is not worth crying over and goes back to playing (not climbing). I am astounded that he can breath let alone play, so I have to ask, "Nick, are you hurt honey?" He replies, "no mommy, I'm OK." I still cannot believe he's not at least speaking in a higher decibel, he fell really hard. I feel the need to ask outright, "Nick, did you hurt your penis?" He takes an almost superhero like stance, straight back, chest out, and replies, "no mommy, my penis is always prepared!" Prepared for what I'm not quite sure. However, I feel as though a large part of my parental responsibilities have been accomplished so long as it and he continue to be so well prepared!
Recently I was giving Nick and Evan a bath together. Nick pays no attention to Evan's penis, so I thought we were safe. We would have been had it not been for the fact that Evan finally realized that Nick also has a penis. As if in slow motion, I saw in Evan's face the realization that his penis was not the only one in existence. He looks at his, looks at Nick's and then reaches out, Nick unknowing, and grabs onto Nick's package and pulls. This was the first time I ever witnessed a reaction to the 'grab, twist & pull' method of self defense. Granted, Evan, so far as I know, was not defending anything. He seemed to be genuinely curious. Nick took it in stride and simply responded by saying, "don't pull on my penis, you have one of your own. Pull on yours"!
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Evan's First Felony
My 18-month-old little boy has committed his first felony. He succeeded in car-jacking one of his friends at school! OK, maybe it's not considered car-jacking when it's a Little Tykes vehicle, but still, the act is the same.
My office is located on the 8th floor of our building. The windows near my desk look down over the playground that the children in the daycare play in. I am usually thrilled that I can sneak a peek out the window and catch a glimpse of my little men running around with their friends. It's very interesting to see how they behave when they have no idea you're watching them. I really do enjoy my ability to spy on them each afternoon.
So, yesterday, my boss calls me over to the window and tells me the children are out. I am in need of an afternoon pick-me-up, so I run over to fill myself with that sense of pride I normally get from watching them out there. However, I look down and notice that Evan has decided to play the part of playground bully. Evan has realized that he needs to be in the Cozy Coupe and he needs to be in it now! Never mind that it's already occupied by a 2-year-old little girl. He wants in. He calmly walks up to the driver side door and yanks it open. Though she appears to be caught off guard, she has her wits about her and pulls the door shut again. This does not put Evan off, he is nothing if not persistent. He again yanks the door open. She again pulls it shut. Open, closed, open, closed. Back and forth, back and forth. No more Mr. Nice Guy, Evan means business now. He calmly places both his hands on the door, pulls it open and holds his ground. She is unable to pull it closed again, but seems unwilling to exit on his side. I'm 8 floors up, so I'm not sure what he did/said at this point, but she is suddenly unwilling to fight any longer. She climbs across the seat and exits via the passenger side window (the door does not open on the passenger side). Evan calmly climbs in and off he drives.
I find myself grateful that he allowed her to exit before taking off. At least we're only looking at car-jacking instead of kidnapping!
My office is located on the 8th floor of our building. The windows near my desk look down over the playground that the children in the daycare play in. I am usually thrilled that I can sneak a peek out the window and catch a glimpse of my little men running around with their friends. It's very interesting to see how they behave when they have no idea you're watching them. I really do enjoy my ability to spy on them each afternoon.
So, yesterday, my boss calls me over to the window and tells me the children are out. I am in need of an afternoon pick-me-up, so I run over to fill myself with that sense of pride I normally get from watching them out there. However, I look down and notice that Evan has decided to play the part of playground bully. Evan has realized that he needs to be in the Cozy Coupe and he needs to be in it now! Never mind that it's already occupied by a 2-year-old little girl. He wants in. He calmly walks up to the driver side door and yanks it open. Though she appears to be caught off guard, she has her wits about her and pulls the door shut again. This does not put Evan off, he is nothing if not persistent. He again yanks the door open. She again pulls it shut. Open, closed, open, closed. Back and forth, back and forth. No more Mr. Nice Guy, Evan means business now. He calmly places both his hands on the door, pulls it open and holds his ground. She is unable to pull it closed again, but seems unwilling to exit on his side. I'm 8 floors up, so I'm not sure what he did/said at this point, but she is suddenly unwilling to fight any longer. She climbs across the seat and exits via the passenger side window (the door does not open on the passenger side). Evan calmly climbs in and off he drives.
I find myself grateful that he allowed her to exit before taking off. At least we're only looking at car-jacking instead of kidnapping!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
The Beginning
I suppose the next stop on this writing adventure should be the pregnancy/delivery stories. Luckily, since Nick's 4 and Evan's 1 and a half now, I don't remember with too much accuracy, so the stories shouldn't be too graphic.
Nick - We were trying to get pregnant and luckily got pregnant the first month of trying. I can't speak for Shawn, but those TEN months (40 weeks, do the math) of my pregnancy with Nick were amazing to me. I never felt so feminine, attractive, productive, lucky and outright wonderful as I did during those ten months. My body was doing what it was made to do and I loved being a part of it. I was in love with motherhood and it had barely begun. I was outright proud of myself for creating life! I loved going into the doctor's office and hearing his little heart beat and seeing the ultrasounds. I really wasn't even nervous about labor and delivery. I did suddenly realize that, though of knew I loved babies, I wasn't sure I would love a kid or a teenager very much. This made me panic a bit, but I figured there was nothing I could do about it, so I just had to believe that I would love my child no matter how old it got. My cousin and I were both pregnant at the same time and we were due at just about the same time. We found out on the same day that we were both having boys and we announced on the same day that we were both naming our children Nicholas. Funny since there are no Nicholases (is that how you pluralize Nicholas?) in the family, but hey, it's a great name, so I wasn't fighting it. Nick kicked a lot in my belly, but he would never kick for his father. Every time I would tell Shawn to come and feel him kicking, Nick would inevitably stop. Until one day, Nick was practicing somersaults in my womb when Shawn came home from work. I told Shawn he had to come and feel. He had that same 'yeah, like I'm going to feel anything' look on his face. Apparently it had been a long day, so Shawn gave in to my desire for him to try again to feel the baby. He came over to the couch were I was laying down, he laid down himself and put his head on my belly. It was right then that Nick delivered his most powerful to date kick directly into the side of his daddy's head! I just cannot say enough how wonderful it was being pregnant with Nicholas. There was a slight complication towards the end of my pregnancy though. When I was in my 7th month, I fell down a flight of stairs and landed on my back on the bottom step. I thought for sure I broke my back. After a few minutes of being too afraid to move, I finally realized that all my parts still worked and I was fine. I got up, finished getting ready for work and took off for the office. Once I made it to work, co-workers insisted that I call my midwife to tell her that I fell. I did so and she insisted that I go in for a quick exam to make sure everything was OK. Come to find out that I really did start having contractions. Nothing strong enough for me to feel or anything, but enough for them to admit me for observation for a bit. No matter, I got to see another ultrasound and re-confirmed that he was a boy. After a couple hours the contractions eased up and they released me. We were very lucky! I vaguely remember that, at the end of my pregnancy, I was in the early stages of labor for quite some time. I think I walked around at 3 or 4 cm without feeling any contractions or anything. Then, on Shawn's birthday, I called the midwife because I thought my water bag was leaking. I knew it had not fully ruptured, but didn't know how to tell if it was leaking or not. She tells me to come into Labor and Delivery and they'll run a test to see if it's amniotic fluid or not. I get there and she changes her mind. Ya see, Shawn's birthday, February 2nd, was my due date. Since I made it to my due date, she decided not to bother with the test, but to finish rupturing my bag for me and to induce labor. Technically I was already in labor, but she hurried it along for me. I walked into the hospital thinking I was having some test run at about 3:00 in the afternoon. I felt fine for quite some time. At around 5:00 they were asking if I was going to want an epidural or not. I told them I felt fine and asked if they could tell me how much worse it was going to get. A nurse told me I was nowhere near the end and it was going to get much, much worse. I thought that much, much worse deserved an epidural, so I got one. At this point, I have the epidural, but still have not felt too much discomfort. My parents, Diane, Jim and Shawn were all at the hospital with me. Things were going well. Next think I know, they check me and tell me it's time to have a baby. Man, that epidural was wonderful. Still no pain!!! We clear the room, I push for 45 minutes and have a baby. Now, this is my memory of it. Shawn's is entirely different. Ya see, Nick got stuck coming out... and he was blue... and I hemorrhaged really badly. But I felt no pain and Nick is fine, so for me, it seemed like an easy delivery. Nick did get stuck. They had to call in doctors and had some alarm going off outside my room (which scared the shit out of my family waiting outside) because there was some urgency in getting him out because of the blue thing. They did get him out without breaking any bones in him or me. They had to take him over to the warming tray right away because he wasn't transitioning too well, but after a few minutes he was perfect! I remember asking Shawn who he looked like since I couldn't see him too well from across the room. Shawn looked down and him and answered, "Denny Crain". Denny Crain is a character that William Shatner plays on Boston Legal. Shawn, unfortunately, was not joking. Luckily, the nurse that was there with them told me that my baby looked just like his daddy. Whew! Now, this is when it gets iffy for me. Once I delivered the placenta, I started to bleed out - badly. I would not stop bleeding. They injected me with 3 doses of a coagulant and had several nurses doing some sort of Heimlich maneuver to my uterus to get it to close up and stop bleeding. After about 45 minutes or so, I finally did stop bleeding. My hemoglobin went from 16 (yes, it's normally very high) down to 7. I was very anemic. They gave me horse pills of iron supplements to take and tell me I should be fine. Little did we know that I would have an allergic reaction to the iron and break out in hives. Now I'm anemic and on benedryl. Great combo for a first-time, new mommy. All things said, Nick was and still is perfect. We survived our 'simple' delivery and headed home to start our new life together as a family of 3!!!!
Evan's story is more complicated. I'm not sure if it's because he's been more needy since conception, or because everything is more complicated once you have a child - pregnancy of a second child especially. We were trying to have a second baby, so this pregnancy was no surprise. It was quite stressful though. Before we got pregnant with Evan, we suffered a miscarriage at nearly 12-weeks. That was very hard on us, but we grew even closer as a couple while recovering from it. It wasn't but a couple of months later that we were pregnant again. Now, my midwife, who I absolutely adore (especially since she saved my life after Nick's birth) told me to come into the office right away so she could do an ultrasound and show me that everything was perfectly normal with this pregnancy since she knew I would be a nervous wreck after the miscarriage. You know what they say about the best of intentions, right??? Well, I go into the office at about 5 weeks and, after the midwife and a doctor view the ultrasound, I'm told that this pregnancy 'doesn't appear to be viable'. They decide to do blood tests to confirm that I am having another miscarriage. For those of you who have never been through this particular round of hellish blood tests, they draw your blood on day 1, 3 and 5 and compare hormone levels between blood draws. What they're looking for is for the hCG to double every other day (ish). Well, mine more then doubled every other day. This means that my body still thinks it's pregnant with a viable pregnancy. The doctor and midwife are still not willing to accept this because they could not find the baby on ultrasound. They decide to send me to Cooper for the higher tech ultrasound for final confirmation. I go into Cooper and, almost immediately, am shown my baby's heart beat. The tech warns me she's not going to talk for a bit so she can take measurements and whatnot. I'm grateful for the warning because I've learned that the absence of happy chatter during an ultrasound usually indicates that something's wrong. After she's done with her measurements, she assures me that everything appears to be perfect with the baby. We are beyond ecstatic, but are still quite terrified. Why couldn't they find the baby with the first ultrasound? Is s/he not growing properly? Is there something wrong? The only way to know with any certainty was to have an amnio done. After one miscarriage, we decided that the risk of miscarriage was too high to risk. We trusted that, if this baby were meant to be with us, everything would be fine. The rest of my first trimester and second trimester were perfectly normal. Once I was into my third trimester, Evan decided to show me just how uncomfortable he was capable of making me. It started when my alarm went off one morning (yes, Nick used to let me sleep until the alarm went off) and I jumped out of bed to turn it off. I nearly fell on my face because I had no feeling in my left leg. No pain, no discomfort... nothing! After a minute or so everything was fine. I chalked it up to my ginormous self sleeping wrong. I did mention it to my midwife at my next appointment though. She informed me that this was the onset of sciatica. Lovely! Within the next few days, Evan took up residency directly against my cervix and plucked at that sciatic nerve like it were his own personal banjo. My midwife tried to put me out on disability, but I was unwilling because that would take away from the time I could spend at home with him after he was born. That final trimester was so uncomfortable I could hardly walk without feeling like he was going to fall out. The pressure was horrendous. All worth it though because he was still alive and appeared to be perfectly healthy. After loosing the previous pregnancy, then being told that this one didn't appear to be viable, I was willing suffer through whatever I had to in order to ensure we would have a healthy baby. Towards the end of the pregnancy the midwives tried to convince me to have a c-section since Evan was measuring so big and the chaos that went along with Nick's delivery. I would have been willing to do so except for the fact that I would not be allowed to pick up Nick for several weeks afterwards. How was I supposed to bring home a new baby that I could pick up and hold all day long and not pick up Nick? He would never understand. I would do it if I had to, but I preferred not to. We tried to set up an induction for when I hit 39 weeks, thinking Evan would be just about the size Nick was when he was born. The Medical Director did not approve that plan. He said that if the baby were too big, I was to have a c-section. Luckily, my midwife told me to go in for a labor check on December 4th when she was working in Labor and Delivery and she would see if she could find a reason to admit me for induction that wasn't just because the baby was too big. Well, December 4th I showed up for my labor check and sure enough - I was in labor. Who knew? Now, I'm not complaining, but I was apparently already nearly 4 cm and having pretty good contractions every 4 to 5 minutes. No problem with admitting me! She tells me that since everything moved along so quickly with Nick, she wanted everything all set up for me this time. She ordered my epidural and told me that once it was in, she would start me on pitocin to move things along and rupture my water bag. Cool beans!!! We're having a baby!!! Yeah, right up until about 3:45 p.m. I was fine one minute then all of a sudden, it felt like my insides were coming out. Turns out, my epidural wasn't placed right. There's no time to fix it, I'm going to have to do this with no pain medication. Luckily the pain didn't really set in until about 5 minutes before I started pushing. Evan decided to compete with his big brother right from the start. He also got stuck. There was momentary panic about getting him out. They managed to help me get him out (me pushing, them pulling and pushing on my belly) and he was born at 4:14. I remember JoAnn saying to me at one point, 3 more pushes for each contraction and you'll have him out in the next 3 contractions. I quickly did the math and told her in no uncertain terms that I was not pushing 9 more times. I believe he was out after 2 more pushes. I also remember searching the room for Death. I believe I would have gone with Him if it would have ended the suffering that I was feeling. Now, on one hand, I'm very lucky in that I do not feel contractions until I'm pretty far along in my labor and just about ready to push. However, the major down side to that is that my body does not have any way of working up to the horrible pain that those final contractions cause. I'm not saying I had it any better or any worse than anyone else out there - I cannot compare my pain to theirs as I never experienced theirs. I can just say that a huge part of me is glad that I'm unlikely to ever go through that ever again. My midwife did inform me after Evan's birth that, if I have anymore children, she strongly suggests a c-section no matter how much smaller the next one may seem to measure. After a terrifying start to my pregnancy with Evan, an uncomfortable end to the pregnancy and a quick but terribly painful delivery, I was ready to just sit with my new baby and get to know him. I will never forget how wonderful Nick was when he came to meet his new baby brother! Nick really was a great big brother right from the start! He was also quite funny in his inability to understand babies. The day after Evan was born my parents brought Nick back to the hospital for a visit. He sheepishly peeked into the room and then into the bassinet. He looked up at me and asked, "is he big enough to play with me yet?"
He was not big enough to play just then, but it did not take long before Evan was up and running around with Nick. They get along really, really well and care very deeply for one another. They're more than just brothers, they're the best of friends. I can only hope that their relationship remains as strong as it has been through these first 18 months. I really do pity the person who tries to come between them. I'm sure the relationship between the two of them will be at the center of many posts to come!
Nick - We were trying to get pregnant and luckily got pregnant the first month of trying. I can't speak for Shawn, but those TEN months (40 weeks, do the math) of my pregnancy with Nick were amazing to me. I never felt so feminine, attractive, productive, lucky and outright wonderful as I did during those ten months. My body was doing what it was made to do and I loved being a part of it. I was in love with motherhood and it had barely begun. I was outright proud of myself for creating life! I loved going into the doctor's office and hearing his little heart beat and seeing the ultrasounds. I really wasn't even nervous about labor and delivery. I did suddenly realize that, though of knew I loved babies, I wasn't sure I would love a kid or a teenager very much. This made me panic a bit, but I figured there was nothing I could do about it, so I just had to believe that I would love my child no matter how old it got. My cousin and I were both pregnant at the same time and we were due at just about the same time. We found out on the same day that we were both having boys and we announced on the same day that we were both naming our children Nicholas. Funny since there are no Nicholases (is that how you pluralize Nicholas?) in the family, but hey, it's a great name, so I wasn't fighting it. Nick kicked a lot in my belly, but he would never kick for his father. Every time I would tell Shawn to come and feel him kicking, Nick would inevitably stop. Until one day, Nick was practicing somersaults in my womb when Shawn came home from work. I told Shawn he had to come and feel. He had that same 'yeah, like I'm going to feel anything' look on his face. Apparently it had been a long day, so Shawn gave in to my desire for him to try again to feel the baby. He came over to the couch were I was laying down, he laid down himself and put his head on my belly. It was right then that Nick delivered his most powerful to date kick directly into the side of his daddy's head! I just cannot say enough how wonderful it was being pregnant with Nicholas. There was a slight complication towards the end of my pregnancy though. When I was in my 7th month, I fell down a flight of stairs and landed on my back on the bottom step. I thought for sure I broke my back. After a few minutes of being too afraid to move, I finally realized that all my parts still worked and I was fine. I got up, finished getting ready for work and took off for the office. Once I made it to work, co-workers insisted that I call my midwife to tell her that I fell. I did so and she insisted that I go in for a quick exam to make sure everything was OK. Come to find out that I really did start having contractions. Nothing strong enough for me to feel or anything, but enough for them to admit me for observation for a bit. No matter, I got to see another ultrasound and re-confirmed that he was a boy. After a couple hours the contractions eased up and they released me. We were very lucky! I vaguely remember that, at the end of my pregnancy, I was in the early stages of labor for quite some time. I think I walked around at 3 or 4 cm without feeling any contractions or anything. Then, on Shawn's birthday, I called the midwife because I thought my water bag was leaking. I knew it had not fully ruptured, but didn't know how to tell if it was leaking or not. She tells me to come into Labor and Delivery and they'll run a test to see if it's amniotic fluid or not. I get there and she changes her mind. Ya see, Shawn's birthday, February 2nd, was my due date. Since I made it to my due date, she decided not to bother with the test, but to finish rupturing my bag for me and to induce labor. Technically I was already in labor, but she hurried it along for me. I walked into the hospital thinking I was having some test run at about 3:00 in the afternoon. I felt fine for quite some time. At around 5:00 they were asking if I was going to want an epidural or not. I told them I felt fine and asked if they could tell me how much worse it was going to get. A nurse told me I was nowhere near the end and it was going to get much, much worse. I thought that much, much worse deserved an epidural, so I got one. At this point, I have the epidural, but still have not felt too much discomfort. My parents, Diane, Jim and Shawn were all at the hospital with me. Things were going well. Next think I know, they check me and tell me it's time to have a baby. Man, that epidural was wonderful. Still no pain!!! We clear the room, I push for 45 minutes and have a baby. Now, this is my memory of it. Shawn's is entirely different. Ya see, Nick got stuck coming out... and he was blue... and I hemorrhaged really badly. But I felt no pain and Nick is fine, so for me, it seemed like an easy delivery. Nick did get stuck. They had to call in doctors and had some alarm going off outside my room (which scared the shit out of my family waiting outside) because there was some urgency in getting him out because of the blue thing. They did get him out without breaking any bones in him or me. They had to take him over to the warming tray right away because he wasn't transitioning too well, but after a few minutes he was perfect! I remember asking Shawn who he looked like since I couldn't see him too well from across the room. Shawn looked down and him and answered, "Denny Crain". Denny Crain is a character that William Shatner plays on Boston Legal. Shawn, unfortunately, was not joking. Luckily, the nurse that was there with them told me that my baby looked just like his daddy. Whew! Now, this is when it gets iffy for me. Once I delivered the placenta, I started to bleed out - badly. I would not stop bleeding. They injected me with 3 doses of a coagulant and had several nurses doing some sort of Heimlich maneuver to my uterus to get it to close up and stop bleeding. After about 45 minutes or so, I finally did stop bleeding. My hemoglobin went from 16 (yes, it's normally very high) down to 7. I was very anemic. They gave me horse pills of iron supplements to take and tell me I should be fine. Little did we know that I would have an allergic reaction to the iron and break out in hives. Now I'm anemic and on benedryl. Great combo for a first-time, new mommy. All things said, Nick was and still is perfect. We survived our 'simple' delivery and headed home to start our new life together as a family of 3!!!!
Evan's story is more complicated. I'm not sure if it's because he's been more needy since conception, or because everything is more complicated once you have a child - pregnancy of a second child especially. We were trying to have a second baby, so this pregnancy was no surprise. It was quite stressful though. Before we got pregnant with Evan, we suffered a miscarriage at nearly 12-weeks. That was very hard on us, but we grew even closer as a couple while recovering from it. It wasn't but a couple of months later that we were pregnant again. Now, my midwife, who I absolutely adore (especially since she saved my life after Nick's birth) told me to come into the office right away so she could do an ultrasound and show me that everything was perfectly normal with this pregnancy since she knew I would be a nervous wreck after the miscarriage. You know what they say about the best of intentions, right??? Well, I go into the office at about 5 weeks and, after the midwife and a doctor view the ultrasound, I'm told that this pregnancy 'doesn't appear to be viable'. They decide to do blood tests to confirm that I am having another miscarriage. For those of you who have never been through this particular round of hellish blood tests, they draw your blood on day 1, 3 and 5 and compare hormone levels between blood draws. What they're looking for is for the hCG to double every other day (ish). Well, mine more then doubled every other day. This means that my body still thinks it's pregnant with a viable pregnancy. The doctor and midwife are still not willing to accept this because they could not find the baby on ultrasound. They decide to send me to Cooper for the higher tech ultrasound for final confirmation. I go into Cooper and, almost immediately, am shown my baby's heart beat. The tech warns me she's not going to talk for a bit so she can take measurements and whatnot. I'm grateful for the warning because I've learned that the absence of happy chatter during an ultrasound usually indicates that something's wrong. After she's done with her measurements, she assures me that everything appears to be perfect with the baby. We are beyond ecstatic, but are still quite terrified. Why couldn't they find the baby with the first ultrasound? Is s/he not growing properly? Is there something wrong? The only way to know with any certainty was to have an amnio done. After one miscarriage, we decided that the risk of miscarriage was too high to risk. We trusted that, if this baby were meant to be with us, everything would be fine. The rest of my first trimester and second trimester were perfectly normal. Once I was into my third trimester, Evan decided to show me just how uncomfortable he was capable of making me. It started when my alarm went off one morning (yes, Nick used to let me sleep until the alarm went off) and I jumped out of bed to turn it off. I nearly fell on my face because I had no feeling in my left leg. No pain, no discomfort... nothing! After a minute or so everything was fine. I chalked it up to my ginormous self sleeping wrong. I did mention it to my midwife at my next appointment though. She informed me that this was the onset of sciatica. Lovely! Within the next few days, Evan took up residency directly against my cervix and plucked at that sciatic nerve like it were his own personal banjo. My midwife tried to put me out on disability, but I was unwilling because that would take away from the time I could spend at home with him after he was born. That final trimester was so uncomfortable I could hardly walk without feeling like he was going to fall out. The pressure was horrendous. All worth it though because he was still alive and appeared to be perfectly healthy. After loosing the previous pregnancy, then being told that this one didn't appear to be viable, I was willing suffer through whatever I had to in order to ensure we would have a healthy baby. Towards the end of the pregnancy the midwives tried to convince me to have a c-section since Evan was measuring so big and the chaos that went along with Nick's delivery. I would have been willing to do so except for the fact that I would not be allowed to pick up Nick for several weeks afterwards. How was I supposed to bring home a new baby that I could pick up and hold all day long and not pick up Nick? He would never understand. I would do it if I had to, but I preferred not to. We tried to set up an induction for when I hit 39 weeks, thinking Evan would be just about the size Nick was when he was born. The Medical Director did not approve that plan. He said that if the baby were too big, I was to have a c-section. Luckily, my midwife told me to go in for a labor check on December 4th when she was working in Labor and Delivery and she would see if she could find a reason to admit me for induction that wasn't just because the baby was too big. Well, December 4th I showed up for my labor check and sure enough - I was in labor. Who knew? Now, I'm not complaining, but I was apparently already nearly 4 cm and having pretty good contractions every 4 to 5 minutes. No problem with admitting me! She tells me that since everything moved along so quickly with Nick, she wanted everything all set up for me this time. She ordered my epidural and told me that once it was in, she would start me on pitocin to move things along and rupture my water bag. Cool beans!!! We're having a baby!!! Yeah, right up until about 3:45 p.m. I was fine one minute then all of a sudden, it felt like my insides were coming out. Turns out, my epidural wasn't placed right. There's no time to fix it, I'm going to have to do this with no pain medication. Luckily the pain didn't really set in until about 5 minutes before I started pushing. Evan decided to compete with his big brother right from the start. He also got stuck. There was momentary panic about getting him out. They managed to help me get him out (me pushing, them pulling and pushing on my belly) and he was born at 4:14. I remember JoAnn saying to me at one point, 3 more pushes for each contraction and you'll have him out in the next 3 contractions. I quickly did the math and told her in no uncertain terms that I was not pushing 9 more times. I believe he was out after 2 more pushes. I also remember searching the room for Death. I believe I would have gone with Him if it would have ended the suffering that I was feeling. Now, on one hand, I'm very lucky in that I do not feel contractions until I'm pretty far along in my labor and just about ready to push. However, the major down side to that is that my body does not have any way of working up to the horrible pain that those final contractions cause. I'm not saying I had it any better or any worse than anyone else out there - I cannot compare my pain to theirs as I never experienced theirs. I can just say that a huge part of me is glad that I'm unlikely to ever go through that ever again. My midwife did inform me after Evan's birth that, if I have anymore children, she strongly suggests a c-section no matter how much smaller the next one may seem to measure. After a terrifying start to my pregnancy with Evan, an uncomfortable end to the pregnancy and a quick but terribly painful delivery, I was ready to just sit with my new baby and get to know him. I will never forget how wonderful Nick was when he came to meet his new baby brother! Nick really was a great big brother right from the start! He was also quite funny in his inability to understand babies. The day after Evan was born my parents brought Nick back to the hospital for a visit. He sheepishly peeked into the room and then into the bassinet. He looked up at me and asked, "is he big enough to play with me yet?"
He was not big enough to play just then, but it did not take long before Evan was up and running around with Nick. They get along really, really well and care very deeply for one another. They're more than just brothers, they're the best of friends. I can only hope that their relationship remains as strong as it has been through these first 18 months. I really do pity the person who tries to come between them. I'm sure the relationship between the two of them will be at the center of many posts to come!
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Players
OK, so I've tried writing journals for my kids, but haven't been able to follow through too well, so I'm thinking that perhaps I'll be able to maintain a blog since I can sneak a couple minutes on the laptop a lot easier than I can grab the journals. Since this is my first entry, perhaps an introduction to some of the main 'players' in my life is in order.
Me, straight from my facebook profile: (OK, first blogspot lesson - cannot cut and past from facebook - so noted) So, my name is Jessica, and I'm just your average 31-year-old Jersey Girl. I'm lucky to be married to the best man in the world! We're raising 2 wonderful boys together. I am simply the most indecisive person in the world and the worst speller out there (does blogspot have spell check?) I work as a Legal Secretary in the NJ Attorney General's Office. Since returning to work after Nick was born, I've been assigned to the Sexually Violent Predators task force and also do Medicaid reimbursement work. I work with wonderful people and that makes up for the horrible subject matter most of the time. I am a State Employee and, though most people out there don't believe we exist, I'm a State Employee who works my butt off and earns my paycheck. I used to get upset about how horribly we're viewed, but knowing I have a good work ethic and that I provide a great public service by helping keep sexual predators off the street is enough for me these days - most of the time anyway. I believe I really am a good friend, I'm a great listener and I love deeply. I am one of the most understanding people out there, so I really don't hold a grudge for too long. I also have a mild case of OCD and I will admit, I'm way too lazy for my own good, but I make an effort to ignore my lazy instincts and move about as much as I can.
My Husband - His name is Shawn and I'm convinced he really is the best man in the world. OK, maybe not the best in the world, but certainly the best man for me. I'm lucky to be loved by him and thrilled that he allows me to love him. He knows me better than I know myself and loves me because of who I am, not in spite of it. My children are lucky to have him as a Daddy. He's the type of guy who will work a 12 hour day in 9 hours, come home and play with the boys all night, tuck the older boy in with a story and come downstairs and watch "Chopped" with me curled up on the couch. He will then apologize for not accomplishing enough in the day - right, because we're all super over achievers. He is an auto tech at Volvo of Princeton. I call him a yuppy mechanic now b/c he manages to work all day and come home with clean hands! Not that he doesn't work his butt off at the shop - this shop just gives him gloves. He loves his family and has no problem helping out around the house and with the kids. He also has a very, very unique sense of humor. I only hope that I'm able to capture some of it in future entries.
The Older Boy - Nick, what can I say about Nick? He's a force to be reckoned with all right. He's 4-years-old and full of energy, questions, explanations and stories. A friend of mine points out how he lives life to the fullest no matter what he's doing and enjoys every single aspect of whatever it is that he happens to be doing. She thinks of him every time she hears the song "I hope you dance". He has also been described as a tender-heart. He, like his mother, loves with all he has and is one of the funniest people I've ever met. He is an amazing big brother to The Little One. We thought bringing home a new baby would make Nick jealous and that he would act out and resent his little brother - it's the opposite. Nick frequently says things like, "Evan, I love you with all my heart and I'll never let anything bad happen to you. I'll never let the goblins come and take you away." Of course, this was said the morning after watching Labyrinth for the first time, but the sentiment is typical of Nick.
The Little One - Evan is our psychopath - and I really think I might mean that. He's 17-months old and has quite the evil streak in him. He also has this lovely snugly side to him that is super sweet, but more often than not, he's whacking his big brother in the head with one toy or another and then laughing about it. We're doing our best to ensure he doesn't grow up to be a vindictive prick, but man, it seems we have our work cut out for us. I don't mean to make it sound like I don't love my little monster with all my heart - I absolutely do, I just find it hysterical that he is 3 years younger than his big brother, but already seems to have more street smarts and acts more like the bossy big brother. I'm enjoying watching this dynamic unfold and am very curious how this will turn out as the kids grow. Evan was just promoted to the toddler room in his preschool and seems to be keeping up with the older kids quite well. They're starting potty training and have him drinking out of a normal cup already. Am I ready for my little boy to grow up so quickly? Not a chance. Do I think he's too young for such things? Without a doubt. Am I grateful that he has wonderful teachers who will help him grow and not hold him back b/c he's the baby in the family? Absolutely!
The Neighbors - I'm lucky enough to live directly next door to my parents. I bought the house next door to my childhood home. I'm thrilled to be so close to them and I believe my children are beyond lucky to have them as such a staple in their life. My parents respect my privacy and my marriage. They do not force themselves into our life ever, but are there anytime we need advice or assistance. I grew up spoiled and continue to be so. Living so close to my parents - who are now my children's grandparents - makes me wonder about the same thing that most people with children wonder.... who are these people and what did they do with the people who raised me. My mother has become the grandmother who pushes food on my children every time they enter her house. I'm not sure if she thinks we don't feed them at home or if they just simply like her food better (my father is an amazing cook, so their food usually is better, but still) or what the reasoning is, but it's funny to me that she always finds something for them to eat. She also caved and has allowed a toy box in her house. She told me when I was pregnant with Nick that there would be no 'baby things' left at her house since my house is so close. Shortly after his birth she had a porta-crib set up in the living room - we're now down to the toy box in the closet and a couple misc. things about the house. My father is beyond taken with my kids. Though it's funny, he'll often be heard saying things like "no running" when the children are in the yard. What young children don't run when they're outside? He cannot watch them for too long without having heart palpitations. Granted, gravity effects my children more than most people so they fall a lot, but mostly they're fine right thereafter and their spills have no long-term effects on anyone - anyone but my father. He becomes more paranoid with every bump, bruise and scrape. I don't even want to think about how bad it will be when Nick's big enough for skateboarding or whatever kids will be doing when he's old enough to risk his ivory skin to join them. All in all, their home is a wonderful home for my kids to visit/trash on a very regular basis. I'm not sure who's luckiest in this set-up, the grandparents, the kids or me and hubby. I know we all benefit, so I don't spend much time dissecting it too much.
Uncle Jim - My brother, until very recently, lived next door as well. He recently up and moved to Alaska. I envy his ability to do so. Not so much because my family ties me to home, but more because I would never have the balls to leave everything I know to go and explore the unknown like that. I respect people who can do that. I used to think my brother was evil to me growing up - he used to tell me that I was not really my parents' daughter, but rather was traded by gypsies for a half a gallon of orange juice. He would threaten to send me back to the gypsies quite frequently. He also told me that my parents got the raw end of the deal. Nice Jim, Nice! Anywho, now that I witness some of the shenanigans that Evan pulls, I realize that I could have had it much, much worse. Jim has always been the guy who never wanted to have children of his own. I was kind of afraid of how he would react to my children. He has surprised me and is very good with them. They miss their Uncle Jim very much. Jim is a walking encyclopedia of useless movie/music trivia. OK, wouldn't be useless if he could get onto "Remote Control" or something, but since that was cancelled decades ago... I believe my brother truly hated me from the time I learned to walk until I started getting him free drinks at the bar. Not that I ever really earned his love (I once maced him with Windex) but he really may have truly hated me. Weather or not he hated me, I'm sure he's always loved me. We've gotten to a point in our adult lives were we get along quite well. I admire his extensive knowledge - he knows things about things I didn't even know existed, and I'm glad to have him around (granted 5000 miles away is not really around, but you know what I mean). He is my older boy's God Father, was the Best Man at my wedding and has proven himself to be a wonderful big brother and brother-in-law!
There are many secondary characters in this life I'm living, but I'll have to introduce you to them as we go along. If you've bothered to read all this, I hope I haven't bored you too much too soon. If so, I promise that some of the stories that come out of my kids are worth having read this entry. My only real agenda here is to memorialize what it's like to live my life with my boys. If you get some laughs along the way, bonus!
Me, straight from my facebook profile: (OK, first blogspot lesson - cannot cut and past from facebook - so noted) So, my name is Jessica, and I'm just your average 31-year-old Jersey Girl. I'm lucky to be married to the best man in the world! We're raising 2 wonderful boys together. I am simply the most indecisive person in the world and the worst speller out there (does blogspot have spell check?) I work as a Legal Secretary in the NJ Attorney General's Office. Since returning to work after Nick was born, I've been assigned to the Sexually Violent Predators task force and also do Medicaid reimbursement work. I work with wonderful people and that makes up for the horrible subject matter most of the time. I am a State Employee and, though most people out there don't believe we exist, I'm a State Employee who works my butt off and earns my paycheck. I used to get upset about how horribly we're viewed, but knowing I have a good work ethic and that I provide a great public service by helping keep sexual predators off the street is enough for me these days - most of the time anyway. I believe I really am a good friend, I'm a great listener and I love deeply. I am one of the most understanding people out there, so I really don't hold a grudge for too long. I also have a mild case of OCD and I will admit, I'm way too lazy for my own good, but I make an effort to ignore my lazy instincts and move about as much as I can.
My Husband - His name is Shawn and I'm convinced he really is the best man in the world. OK, maybe not the best in the world, but certainly the best man for me. I'm lucky to be loved by him and thrilled that he allows me to love him. He knows me better than I know myself and loves me because of who I am, not in spite of it. My children are lucky to have him as a Daddy. He's the type of guy who will work a 12 hour day in 9 hours, come home and play with the boys all night, tuck the older boy in with a story and come downstairs and watch "Chopped" with me curled up on the couch. He will then apologize for not accomplishing enough in the day - right, because we're all super over achievers. He is an auto tech at Volvo of Princeton. I call him a yuppy mechanic now b/c he manages to work all day and come home with clean hands! Not that he doesn't work his butt off at the shop - this shop just gives him gloves. He loves his family and has no problem helping out around the house and with the kids. He also has a very, very unique sense of humor. I only hope that I'm able to capture some of it in future entries.
The Older Boy - Nick, what can I say about Nick? He's a force to be reckoned with all right. He's 4-years-old and full of energy, questions, explanations and stories. A friend of mine points out how he lives life to the fullest no matter what he's doing and enjoys every single aspect of whatever it is that he happens to be doing. She thinks of him every time she hears the song "I hope you dance". He has also been described as a tender-heart. He, like his mother, loves with all he has and is one of the funniest people I've ever met. He is an amazing big brother to The Little One. We thought bringing home a new baby would make Nick jealous and that he would act out and resent his little brother - it's the opposite. Nick frequently says things like, "Evan, I love you with all my heart and I'll never let anything bad happen to you. I'll never let the goblins come and take you away." Of course, this was said the morning after watching Labyrinth for the first time, but the sentiment is typical of Nick.
The Little One - Evan is our psychopath - and I really think I might mean that. He's 17-months old and has quite the evil streak in him. He also has this lovely snugly side to him that is super sweet, but more often than not, he's whacking his big brother in the head with one toy or another and then laughing about it. We're doing our best to ensure he doesn't grow up to be a vindictive prick, but man, it seems we have our work cut out for us. I don't mean to make it sound like I don't love my little monster with all my heart - I absolutely do, I just find it hysterical that he is 3 years younger than his big brother, but already seems to have more street smarts and acts more like the bossy big brother. I'm enjoying watching this dynamic unfold and am very curious how this will turn out as the kids grow. Evan was just promoted to the toddler room in his preschool and seems to be keeping up with the older kids quite well. They're starting potty training and have him drinking out of a normal cup already. Am I ready for my little boy to grow up so quickly? Not a chance. Do I think he's too young for such things? Without a doubt. Am I grateful that he has wonderful teachers who will help him grow and not hold him back b/c he's the baby in the family? Absolutely!
The Neighbors - I'm lucky enough to live directly next door to my parents. I bought the house next door to my childhood home. I'm thrilled to be so close to them and I believe my children are beyond lucky to have them as such a staple in their life. My parents respect my privacy and my marriage. They do not force themselves into our life ever, but are there anytime we need advice or assistance. I grew up spoiled and continue to be so. Living so close to my parents - who are now my children's grandparents - makes me wonder about the same thing that most people with children wonder.... who are these people and what did they do with the people who raised me. My mother has become the grandmother who pushes food on my children every time they enter her house. I'm not sure if she thinks we don't feed them at home or if they just simply like her food better (my father is an amazing cook, so their food usually is better, but still) or what the reasoning is, but it's funny to me that she always finds something for them to eat. She also caved and has allowed a toy box in her house. She told me when I was pregnant with Nick that there would be no 'baby things' left at her house since my house is so close. Shortly after his birth she had a porta-crib set up in the living room - we're now down to the toy box in the closet and a couple misc. things about the house. My father is beyond taken with my kids. Though it's funny, he'll often be heard saying things like "no running" when the children are in the yard. What young children don't run when they're outside? He cannot watch them for too long without having heart palpitations. Granted, gravity effects my children more than most people so they fall a lot, but mostly they're fine right thereafter and their spills have no long-term effects on anyone - anyone but my father. He becomes more paranoid with every bump, bruise and scrape. I don't even want to think about how bad it will be when Nick's big enough for skateboarding or whatever kids will be doing when he's old enough to risk his ivory skin to join them. All in all, their home is a wonderful home for my kids to visit/trash on a very regular basis. I'm not sure who's luckiest in this set-up, the grandparents, the kids or me and hubby. I know we all benefit, so I don't spend much time dissecting it too much.
Uncle Jim - My brother, until very recently, lived next door as well. He recently up and moved to Alaska. I envy his ability to do so. Not so much because my family ties me to home, but more because I would never have the balls to leave everything I know to go and explore the unknown like that. I respect people who can do that. I used to think my brother was evil to me growing up - he used to tell me that I was not really my parents' daughter, but rather was traded by gypsies for a half a gallon of orange juice. He would threaten to send me back to the gypsies quite frequently. He also told me that my parents got the raw end of the deal. Nice Jim, Nice! Anywho, now that I witness some of the shenanigans that Evan pulls, I realize that I could have had it much, much worse. Jim has always been the guy who never wanted to have children of his own. I was kind of afraid of how he would react to my children. He has surprised me and is very good with them. They miss their Uncle Jim very much. Jim is a walking encyclopedia of useless movie/music trivia. OK, wouldn't be useless if he could get onto "Remote Control" or something, but since that was cancelled decades ago... I believe my brother truly hated me from the time I learned to walk until I started getting him free drinks at the bar. Not that I ever really earned his love (I once maced him with Windex) but he really may have truly hated me. Weather or not he hated me, I'm sure he's always loved me. We've gotten to a point in our adult lives were we get along quite well. I admire his extensive knowledge - he knows things about things I didn't even know existed, and I'm glad to have him around (granted 5000 miles away is not really around, but you know what I mean). He is my older boy's God Father, was the Best Man at my wedding and has proven himself to be a wonderful big brother and brother-in-law!
There are many secondary characters in this life I'm living, but I'll have to introduce you to them as we go along. If you've bothered to read all this, I hope I haven't bored you too much too soon. If so, I promise that some of the stories that come out of my kids are worth having read this entry. My only real agenda here is to memorialize what it's like to live my life with my boys. If you get some laughs along the way, bonus!
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