Rocks

Do you see the bulge in my son's side pocket? It is chock-full of little rocks collected while walking in the mountains. In this picture, he is switching them from his left pocket to his right. Why? Who knows. But it HAD to be done. Right then and there. And when we got to the car, he needed to know exactly where they were. The next day, he pulled them all out and arranged them on the bed, talking to them as though they were friends. When I think about it, I laugh at the absurdity of it. My young son is attached to a bunch of little, common, everyday rocks. It's ridiculous. But then I recall that I did the same exact thing. In fact, I still will collect an outstanding rock now and then. Hubby did it, and HL does it too. What is it about rocks? We're surrounded by them everyday, everywhere we go practically- so why the fascination with collecting them? Is it the thrill of finding that little bit of sparkle? The satisfaction of compiling a collection so quickly? Maybe it's the connection to nature, or the realization that you're holding something possibly millions of years old. I have been pondering this for two days now and I still have absolutely no clue... But I do know that I will continue to enjoy aiding my sons in finding those perfect rocks.

AW's Undies

And AW is now fully in underwear! Woohoo!! (This cute crack, however, brought to you from a pull up; back in June.) He does wear a pull up at night still, even though he stays dry most of the time. We just prefer to be safe rather than sorry- it saves us extra work and him humiliation. We took a completely different tack with AW on potty training; HL we pushed, whereas AW got to choose his own speed. While they were both potty trained at pretty much the same exact age, it did take HL far longer to achieve it. HL started peeing in the potty very early*, but then resisted our urging. And AW took a relatively short time, but had us terribly discouraged not too long ago- due to the fact that he was three and showed absolutely NO interest in the potty! Strange how things work out sometimes.... *One day when HL was barely two, I let him run around the house buck naked to dry out a diaper rash he had. I was folding clothes in the room next to his when I heard the distinct sound of tinkling. Thinking he was peeing on the floor, I ran toward the sound... ...only to find my son standing at his little potty, tinkling right in the bowl! I was astonished!*

HL has his very first LOOSE TOOTH! Apparently, he and a friend bonked heads, knocking one of his first teeth loose. But more than knocking his tooth, it has knocked mommy into a tailspin... After assuring that HL was not truly hurt, daddy kinda shrugged his shoulders. Mommy, on the other hand, was a deer in headlights! I am not ready for this huge milestone of making room for adult teeth...

AW's Birth Story

Aw’s birth story vastly differs from that of his big brother: It all started while I was at the doctor’s office for my weekly visit on the 3rd. I was 36 weeks pregnant, my due date not until the 30th. My belly measured the same size as the previous week, signaling the doctor that the baby was no longer growing. We did an ultrasound to check on him (this one we knew was a boy). After looking at the images, Dr B came in and told us that we needed to go home, pack some clothes and meet her at the hospital. She wanted us there in, oh, an hour’s time. What?!?! “Just for observation at this point”, she explained; the placenta seemed to have stopped doing its job and the baby was not growing. He needed to be monitored. At the hospital, hooked to several different monitors, I was in shock to be where I was. I felt great, the baby was kicking, I had absolutely no inkling that anything was wrong. At all. You’ll understand, then, how completely shocked Hubby and I were when Dr B came in after several hour’s worth of observation with the choice of: a) C-Section, or b) Induction. Again, WHAT?!?!?! Apparently, the baby’s heart rate occasionally went dangerously low and needed to get out. Now. But we weren’t quite ready- I had three more weeks to go to get ready for maternity leave. Hubby was in the midst of interviewing for a job. We couldn’t have a baby right now! Heck, we weren’t even ready for a short hospital stay- Hubby had to make numerous trips back home for forgotten items. One of those items being a Baby Name Book, of all things. No, we didn’t have a name for this baby yet either. We believe in meeting our child before deciding for sure (or at least that’s our justification….). Of course, the baby’s needs surpass ours… so we chose the induction. The Pitocin drip started around 8 that evening. We began looking earnestly at names for our baby. It really didn’t take us long to narrow down a list this time- we really liked several “A” names. I don’t remember much of that night; I’m sure I did a lot of reading, tossing, and maybe even slept a wink or two. What I do remember is having to call my sister shortly before 4 that next morning and telling her it was time to come up to Greeley (she had agreed to attend the birth and help out/take video). I believe I was nearing 7cm at this point. Much of the actual hard labor and birth were a bit of a blur as well, except this: AW’s birth happened to occur right in the middle of a Harry Potter movie frenzy. The nurses and my sister were engaged in an animated Potter discussion, having seemingly forgotten why we were all there. I had to remind them. “Excuse me,” I said, jokingly, “have you all forgotten that we’re all here for ME?!?!?!” At 8:18 on the morning of the 4th, my second son was born. His cord had been wrapped around his neck in utero, causing the drops in his heart rate. He weighed 6lbs 13oz and measured 20 inches- a good size, especially considering he was only 36 weeks! The nurses and doctors were surprised by his tenacity; they said he looked and acted like a full term baby. Our first choice name matched him well. He was named A. W. H. Two year old HL was absolutely thrilled with his new little baby brother. He kept walking around him, pointing, as he exclaimed things like “he has two ears!”… “he has two hands!”… “look at his little fingers!” Being early, AW did need a little help eating; he just didn’t have all the strength needed to nurse just yet. So, we had to feed him. He took best to using a tiny cup and “sipping” it. When mommy tried, she made a huge mess; daddy was the cup-feeding master. Mom and baby were healthy. All was well. Until…. Until shortly after lunch the next day when I hemorrhaged. What an absolutely terrifying experience!! The dizziness, the gushing blood, the eight determined experts all rushing, working on me- the nurses not able to give a definite answer to my question: “Am I going to die?!?”. They all tried for some time to curb the bleeding and at one point, thought they had. But the minute I moved, it started again. I had lost 1 ½ liters of blood. Dr A ended up rushing me into emergency surgery. Hubby was calm, but I was in a definite panic. The surgery went well. Other than being scared, exhausted, and anemic, I was okay. I remember that I had to wear these funny foot massager things to keep the circulation in my legs- very strange! I later asked hubby how it was that he could be so calm; he said the Dr told him that “here in America, women don’t die from this.” Couldn’t somebody have told me that? Then, not long before being discharged, jaundice started in on our baby. He did later have to use a biliblanket, but not until after we were settled in at home. The jaundice eventually receded and he was a healthy baby from then on. All was, indeed, well.

HL's Solution

Just finished talking to HL about trying to find a solution to the bed issue. He says the only answer is to "tear down the bunkbed and give me back my old bed." End of discussion. He wants their room back the way it was with the beds across the room from each other. Sigh....

This morning's tantrum

This morning, we were blessed with a temper tantrum from our three year old even before we were out of bed.... HL got himself and his brother some cereal for breakfast. They had little disagreements, but just as I was thinking I needed to interfere, they would break out in laughter. It seemed all was well. Until... ...HL put the milk back in the fridge. The absolute nerve of him to do something so sensible as to keep the milk cold, set AW off. And by "set him off", I am talking a tantrum of the third degree! He ended up having to go to his room and was there screaming at all of us for nigh on half an hour. "Mommy's going to jail!!" "I don't like Daddy!!" "HL's going to jail!!" And other similar curses were forced on us the entire time. By the time he finally settled down, he had no idea what he was so upset about. Kids. Who can figure them out?!?

Bunk bed

We finally got the boys a bunk bed, and we thought all was well- AW needed a big boy bed, HL dreamed of sleeping up top- didn't we kill two birds with one stone? No, this is turning out to be a lesson in unforeseen consequences of having our dreams granted- sometimes, dreams coming true can be terribly scary. Yes, AW got his big bed, but now he is overwhelmed by the very thing he wanted- room with no walls. And HL wanted to be up top, not realizing how sad it would leave him- no more falling asleep with mommy by his side. These things are making for a rather difficult household these days; lots of crying and tantrums for no tangible reason, loads of negative emotions floating around. It's surprising how the little things in life can affect the whole of a young child. We have some problem-solving and transitioning ahead of us. With little ones, this can be tricky business- how does one tell if a distraught young boy needs discipline or TLC? Our M.O. seems to run in the order of discipline first, he needs to act like a big boy; then TLC next as we work out why he was so upset. So far, this seems to be working, but man, is it ever hard on mommy's heart to listen to the screaming, the hurt of her little babes. Just last night, HL and I figured out the reason why he is not happy in this new bed (because he has to fall asleep alone) and now I feel horrible about it. I worry that he takes it personally- does he think I don't want to lay down with him? Oh, it would break my heart if he thought I was choosing not to be with him. How do I solve this? He wants us both to fall asleep up top, but I'm not comfortable putting all that weight up there. HL won't sleep in the lower bed with AW because his little brother doesn't share the bed well (HL ends up getting kicked and pushed all over the bed). And if HL were fall asleep with us on the lower bed, I can't very well carry him up to his own bed afterward. Hmm... What to do? There's an answer out there somewhere, I just know there is...

The three year old mind

This morning when AW awoke and came in my room, I told him how very proud I was of him that he stayed in his own bed all night. Here's his response: "Yeah, because I'm Robin and Spiderman is in the Batmobile playing cards with Spidergirl!" That's all the explanation I needed. Makes perfect sense.

Little Private Me

This whole ordeal has brought something to my attention: just how very private a person I am. It is extremely difficult for me to talk to people when I am sad or upset. I have these terribly thick walls built all around me, and very few people have ever brought them down. It's not that I don't like people, I... I simply don't know why they're there. And I don't know how to dismantle them, either. I want to, oh do I want to- if I were able to do so, I know I would be a much better friend to people, and in return, I would have much deeper friendships to enjoy. Come to think of it, I write things in this blog that I would never be able to voice to many people; perhaps this blog is a tiny step to opening myself up to others. And now I find myself in a position where I can just accept this fact as serendipitous and forget about it; or I can take it as a sign and continue to post things slightly beyond my comfort zone. Let the world see a little of the real me...

Miscarriage Anger

There is at least one thing to be said of anger over a miscarriage- for me, anyway. You see, oftentimes when I am angry, you will find me cleaning (usually in the form of doing dishes or some other simple housework). But apparently when the anger is great, and has no real direction, it causes me to CLEAN. As in totally reorganizing the kitchen cupboards, scrubbing my bedroom from floor to ceiling (with hubby's help), throwing out absolutely anything that hasn't been used recently, etc. Hubby and I have even finally- after months of procrastinating- gotten our sons a bunk bed and rearranged their room; this was way overdue. Was this all an elaborate plan of God's to kick me in the butt, get me moving after months of depressed lethargy? No, I don't really believe that. But it was just the catalyst I needed to get caught up on things that were left undone for so long. And now that I have that cleaning bug, I am on a rampage. Nothing in this house is safe. I am an angry, cleaning woman- hear me ROAR!!

Correction

I was wrong. The miscarriage was not finished after all. The baby passed at 10:30 this evening. Of that, there is absolutely no doubt. Perhaps I didn't feel so much sadness before because it wasn't yet done. Right now I am very sad, yet oddly numb. It keeps replaying over in my head. I feel... ...empty. But, now it is finally over. I can grieve and put this behind me.

Thank you

Thank you everyone for your kind thoughts, prayers and support through this. It means the world to us to have so many caring people in our lives.

Finally

Finally, my body has loosed its tether on the baby. In retrospect, it was wrenching those first several days, but the two week delay actually tipped the scales from the feeling of sadness to that of relief. Although it still did make me sad... At this point, I am assuming the miscarriage to be "successful". Who in their right mind coined the term "successful miscarriage", anyway?!?!? Had anything in this endeavor been successful, I would be mere days from my second trimester! Why couldn't they have chosen "complete" for this situation? But I digress.... Back to my point, I believe it to be completely finished, although I have a fever now so I have to wait and see what the doctor says tomorrow. I am just so ready for this whole ordeal to be over and done with. One thing is certain- I take every chance I get to give my two sons a life-affirming squeeze. I am so incredibly grateful and happy that they made it into my life.

Remembrance

In memory of lives lost. In tribute to the heroes. In gratitude to the troops.

Support Our Troops

Just a quickie little post imploring everyone to please visit the AdoptaPlatoon website. This is an excellent way to show our support for the troops protecting our freedom and keeping us safe over in Iraq . Within an hour of where we live are a number of collection points- just in case you're a horrible snail-mailer like me.

Miscarriage Journal Entry

Still no miscarriage. When Dr B said I could choose between surgery or letting nature take its course, I chose nature. I chose nature because that is what I did for my third miscarriage and I miscarried the very next day. That was one day shy of 13 weeks. I figured the same thing would happen this time. I was wrong. Now I wonder if the baby on my third miscarriage died at 10 weeks also, but we just didn't find out until 12 weeks. Ugh. Almost every morning, I wake up and there is blood. I steel myself for what surely will come that day. But it never does. I truly hate that I am now "hoping for a miscarriage". It's twisted. It should not be this way. I guess it is a definite downside to advancing technology- I think it might be easier to never know that your baby was dead, to just miscarry one day, out of the blue. Not that a miscarriage is ever easy- that is not what I'm saying. It's just that then you can actually grieve all at once, get it all out. Be done with it. I am also finding that my mind is trying to play mind games with me. Every once in a while the thought creeps up: "what if they were wrong? What if the baby really is still alive?" I quickly squash the thought with my memory of the ultrasound image. The solid white, very distinct little head and body; the complete absence of any heartbeat. And so I know it is true.