A Baby Story

(This is a repost. Enjoy it!)

Large and in charge

March 1, 2006.… I was large and in charge, my friends. I was 5 days past my due date and was ready for this child to come out NOW. Of course, Bug had other plans and had set up permanent shop. I wasn’t even having contractions, wasn't even dialated. Rats.

I went to my scheduled OBGYN appointment on Wednesday, March 1. I knew they were going to decide at that appointment whether to let me keep cooking or to schedule a day and time to be induced. Frankly, I was hoping to be induced. I liked the control that it gave me. I had fears of my water breaking while standing in line at the bank. Not a pretty sight.

My appointment was at 11 am. The Agent came with me. We were going to go to this appointment, and then get something to eat, since I was always hungry. I could almost taste the French dip sandwich already.

At the appointment, they hooked me up to a machine so they could check my levels of amniotic fluids, and I was supposed to sit there and tell them how many times the baby kicked during the test.

There wasn’t any amniotic fluid in there. None at all.

And Bug wasn’t kicking.

“When the last time you felt your baby move?” the nurse asked.

I had to really think. She was so big, she didn’t move much by then, and when she did, it was at night. Plus, she had been kicking for so many months, that I barely noticed it anymore. I wasn’t positive that I had felt her at all that day.

I told the nurse as much, and she ran to get the doctor. My doctor was with a patient, so another doctor came instead. He looked at the pictures of the non-existent amniotic fluid  and said, “We need to get the baby out today. I’m calling an ambulance to take you to the hospital.”

I started to panic a little. Taking an ambulance was not part of what I imagined. No one I knew needed to take an ambulance when they had their baby. “Can’t my husband take me?” I whimpered.

“You need to go right now,” the doctor said flatly. “you need to take an ambulance.”

That was enough to start me crying. Something was seriously wrong. I was freaking out.

“You need to calm down!” the doctor ordered. “You’re going to lose the baby if you don’t calm down.”

Yeah, right. Tell someone they’re going to lose their baby if they don’t calm down, and see how calm they get. Ass.

But I did my best to relax as the paramedics came and strapped me to the gurney. Then I had the frightening ride in the ambulance, alone, because The Agent had to follow with the car.

(Poor Agent. I don’t know what he was thinking, but his mind must have been racing. Or at least the car was racing. He beat me to the hospital, and was pacing the room when I was wheeled in.)

Thank goodness, the hospital staff was more encouraging. They said the baby was fine, but they agreed that she needed to come out today. I was given Picotin. By 3 pm, I was starting to feel my first contractions.

I started inquiring about an epidural. The pain wasn’t overwhelming, but I didn’t want to wait until I was beyond my threshold before I got some relief. "You still have a ways to go,” the nurse said. “Your contractions aren’t even registering yet.”

Ugh. They hurt this bad and they’re not even registering yet? I must be the wimpiest person ever.

I suffered through increasing pain for almost three hours. Each time a nurse came in, I’d ask for something. “It’s still early,” the nurses would say, “Induced labor could take 24 hours or more.”

God bless The Agent. “Can someone at least check her?” he pleaded. Thank God he said that. They sent in a doctor to check me, and it turned out the band that they put over my belly to measure my contractions was out of whack, and not registering. They put a new band on me and suddenly the readout looked like there had been a 6.9 earthquake in my belly.

Friggin’ incompetents.

I got my epidural at 6 pm. Heaven. Life was good again.

I was starting to get uncomfortable again around 8 pm, but the pain wasn’t bad right away, and I had American Idol playing on the tv, so that helped to keep me preoccupied. The Agent was getting antsy and nervous. He kept asking for the doctor. One of the nurses came in while I was watching tv. “All the nurses simply love him,” she said.

“Who? The doctor? Is he coming?” The Agent seemed more nervous than I was at this point.

The nurse laughed. “No, Chris Daughtry, on American Idol. We all think he’s just so cute.”

I thought this was hilarious. The Agent did not think it was very funny.

I was able to suffer through the pain until the end of American Idol, and then asked for more pain killing juice.

Nope, too late. It’s time to push.

Crap.

I took a deep breath and pushed with all my might, while the nurse counted to 10, just like on tv. Then I looked down between my legs. Where’s the baby?

She didn’t even budge.

It turns out I sucked at pushing. I gave it my all for two hours, each time the nurses saying, “One last big push and then your baby will be out.” Here’s what I have to say to nurses everywhere: DON’T LIE! If it’s going to take two hours to push out a baby, then don’t say it will only take one more push!

At 11 pm, the doctor was bored, I was exhausted and in pain, and the baby was showing signs of stress. “We need to get the baby out now,” the doctor said. “I’m going to have the operating room prepped for a cesarean.

Sounds good to me. Let’s get on it.

The doctor spent at least five minutes talking to me, about the risks and dangers involved, how I needed to sign something, The Agent needed to sign something, blah, blah, blah. I remember just laying there with my eyes closed, and I kept answering, “OK. OK.” That’s all I had the strength to say, but inside I was screaming at the doctor. “I HOPE YOU HAVE SOMEONE GETTING THAT ROOM READY FOR ME WHILE YOU'RE BLABBING AWAY! THIS BABY NEEDS TO GET OUT NOW!”

Then, the doctor left, and there were still four nurses around me. They told me to keep pushing while the room was getting ready. Fine. So I pushed some more. And some more. And some more.

And then one of the nurses said to The Agent, “Come here.”

The Agent didn’t want to leave my side. The doctor had told him to press down on my stomach to help the baby out, and he had been pushing hard on my stomach for the last two hours (so hard it left a mark… I didn’t even feel it). The Agent had a squimish stomach, he really didn’t want to see anything a nurse had to show him.

But The Agent went to the nurse, and she pointed between my legs.

The head was coming out.

The Agent was a changed man after that.

“Babe, she’s here! She’s here! Push her out! She’s right there!”

Oh my God, I wanted to smack him so bad. What does it LOOK like I’m doing?

But I didn’t have the strength to argue. I wanted to ask the nurses, “Hey, how’s it coming with that c-section?” but I didn’t have the energy. So, I just took a deep breath and pushed.

Ow. Owwwwwww.

The doctor came strolling in as the head came out, me wanting to scream and cry and swear like on tv, but I was too busy getting this person out of me to do any of that. “Oh, it looks like we won’t need that c-section, after all.”

You think?

The head was the hardest part, and the rest of her came out easy after that. At 11:38 pm, the doctor guided her out, and then said, “Wow, she’s pretty heavy, you’re going to have to hold her for a bit,” and all but dropped her on my stomach. But I didn’t care, I actually only know that from watching the video later. I was just so amazed.

“Look, Agent. I can’t believe I did that.”

The nurses and doctor couldn’t believe it, either. She was a really big baby.

Really Big.

Really REALLY big.

Are you ready for the number?

11 pounds, 3 ounces.

Me and Bug, the day we came home from the hospital

She didn’t break any records, but she was the biggest baby born that day. I'm so glad that I was able to deliver naturally. The pain of childbirth went away as soon as Bug was in my arms, and I don't think I would have been that lucky if I had to have a c-section. We knew she would be big-- I’m 5’10”, The Agent's 6’2”, I gained 76 pounds while I was pregnant, and I wasn’t diabetic-- but I never in my wildest dreams imagined she would be THAT big!

So now, my baby isn’t a baby anymore. She’s nine years old. She’s still a big girl, but she’ll always be my baby.

Now, if I can just do something about that sassy mouth of hers....

A to Z

All I ever imagined

Became almost real tonight

Creating possibilities,

Dreams realized,

Even the chance

For true happiness

Gripping onto that chance

Hoping this won't be the last

Ignoring that voice in my head 

Just a little bit longer

Knowing this can never work

Love this perfect can't be real

Maybe loneliness is best 

Never regret what was never had

Only fools dream so big

Please leave me in peace

Quiet the screams inside my head

Repeating the truth

Savor this moment

This one dream realized

Until the sunrise crashes

Vexedly teasing my desire to hope

Wiping away that chance for love

Xeroxed again and again

Yet still I pray, and still I dream

Zero is the chance I have now

My Thoughts on 50 Shades

I feel compelled to write about my 50 Shades Experience.

Yes, I read the books. Yes, I watched the movie. No, I am not ashamed.

True, I had a different experience than most, having the advantage of watching the movie during a private screening. I am under no illusions that this is Oscar winning material. And I certainly would not want to watch the movie in the same room as my mother. Still, I was thoroughly entertained.

I was surprised about the negative reviews that I read online this weekend. Not because the writing or acting was bad-- I rather expected that. But I was baffled over the pure outrage that the movie inspired. Women claimed to have walked out of the theater in tears. People proclaiming that this is glorified  domestic violence at its finest. Women all over my Facebook feed were begging everyone to boycott the movie, saying that "the violence is unbearable."

Huh?

Were we watching the same movie?

This is the movie I saw: There's a guy that has love and commitment issues, due to the unfortunate events of his past. As a result, he feels that the only way he can be intimate with a woman is if he is the dominant. He meets a girl who is a virgin-- both literally, and to the BDSM lifestyle-- and he thinks he can add her to the list of his many conquests. Except, oops! He falls in love with her.

It's not about control. At no point does Christian have control over Ana. Ana is the one with all the control. She says how far to go. She says when she's had enough. And he respects that.

Look, I'm not saying I'm down for a dominant/submissive lifestyle. But I didn't think it was violent at all. Yes, he straps her up. With her permission. And I'm no judge, but she seems to like it quite a bit.

And the one point that it does get too violent (he whips her 6 times-- not hard enough to break the skin, but definitely hard enough to bring tears), she leaves him right away.

(at which point the movie fades to black and I was laughing and BFF was screaming at the movie screen: "no no no NO!")

I don't know, maybe I'm the naive one. But I saw a movie about two consenting adults, maybe experimenting with a darker side of sex than others would enjoy or even know about, but trying to find their place in each other's hearts.

I've been in an abusive relationship before. This wasn't it.

weekend update-- searching for a headboard

Happy Valentine's/ President's/ Last Chance to Party before Lent Weekend!

My weekend started with a Galentine's celebration on Friday (that's when you hang with your girlfriends to celebrate Valentine's Day. I had never heard of that before this year, so maybe I had been living under a rock). A friend of a friend had rented out a movie theater to watch 50 Shades, and I was invited to attend. It was very upper class! A guy in a suit took our tickets and then escorted us into a special room where 100 other women were anxiously waiting.

The movie was... ok. Certainly not a movie I would want to watch with my parents in the same room, and Dakota Johnson did not fit my vision at all, but I was thoroughly entertained. It certainly helped that everyone else in the theater was of the same mindset. Everyone had read the book, everyone knew what to expect, and there were no husbands or boyfriends there to make fun of us and talk smack. Very nice. I will be writing more about the movie on Wednesday... stay tuned!

Before the movie, we ate at a place called Citra Grill-- they served kabobs and cucumber salads on flat bread. I had never been there before, and since the place was empty when we got there I really didn't have high hopes, but it was really good! I'm also thinking it was moderately healthy, since it was low carb and nothing was fried.

I swiped this picture from Yelp, but this is exactly what it looked like. They gave us cucumber spears and salt as an appetizer.

Saturday was Valentine's Day, and my sweet husband got me a couples massage. We have a day off coming up together next month, and the kids will be a spring break camp, so that's something we'll be looking forward to.

But that was the extent of our day of romance. The rest of the day was spent searching for a headboard. We bought a new bed last week, and we upgraded from a queen to a king, so our headboard didn't fit any more. I had gotten it in my head that I wanted an old door as a headboard, so off to the antique shop we went.

Finding a door was easy.... the antique shop had tons to choose from. But The Agent isn't convinced that the finished project wouldn't be as awesome as the picture in my head, so we are exploring other options.

I was consoled by buying a new comforter and pillows for the bed.

We finished off the day with some Dickey's BBQ for dinner and a movie. Good times.

On Sunday, we continued on the search for a headboard. I think we found something that's going to work.... I'll be taking pictures as The Agent makes it and I'll post it whenever it's done--- either as a fabulous DIY or a flop!

Sunday evening was spent enjoying SOA and drinking margaritas. I am giving up alcohol for Lent this year, so I figured I better imbibe now while I can! I cannot even accurately explain how addicted I am to Sons of Anarchy. I am completely and utterly invested in that show! I am halfway through season 5 and I'm already starting to get a little sad. I know there's only 7 seasons, so I'm already more than halfway through the series. Opie, one of my favorite characters, just died, and I about cried my fool head off. Can't wait to see what happens next!

Weekend Update: The Sads

Hi.

I had a case of the sads this weekend.

I think maybe I've been working too hard and not doing enough fun stuff and it's catching up to me. Plus, I get lost in my head and over think things too much.

This has been building up for awhile now. I've been working with Bug for the last several weeks, planning her birthday party. She wanted to have a Pancakes and PJ's party, where everyone would show up for brunch in their pajamas, and we'd have brunch and play some sort of pancake related games. I liked it because it meant that every one would be out of my house by 1 pm, so I'd have the whole afternoon to recuperate.

 But we had a problem with the guest list. We had a list of 10 kids, which is a pretty good sized party, if everyone comes. But half of those kids are the children of my friends; they're not even friends with Bug. And of the 5 people from school she was inviting, she really only cared if 2 of them showed up.

That's when I realized that Bug only has 2 friends.

I suppose that's ok. You don't need a ton of friends, at least she has two really good friends. But I really didn't want to do a bunch of work to throw a party for people she didn't even care about. So, instead of having a party, we decided to have a birthday weekend: her best guy friend will come over on a Friday night and they'll eat pizza and watch movies and make s'mores and do everything you would do at a sleep over, except actually sleep (The Agent drew the line at a boy spending the night). Then on Saturday, her best girl friend will come over, and I'll take the girls to get manicures and we'll go to a fancy lunch and we'll probably watch a movie. And then Sunday will be Bug's family party, so my parents and brother will come over and we'll have a little celebration.

Bug is very excited to have a whole weekend of birthday fun, instead of just one day. That'll be in a couple weeks, so that will be an exciting weekend update.

Anyway, all that backstory to say that on Friday night, I was on Facebook and saw a post from the mom of Bug's best guy friend. She posted a picture of her son and 2 friends from school that he had over.

And it made me so sad.

How DARE he have friends besides Bug.

How DARE he not invite Bug.

I kept to myself on Friday night. The Agent went to a poker tournament, I let the kids watch a movie, and I lost myself in Sons of Anarchy (I'm halfway through season 3).

I woke up on Saturday, still feeling sad. I didn't hear The Agent come in, but he always texts me when he's on his way home, so according to my phone, he rolled in after 2 am. Which meant that he would be useless to me on Saturday and I would be on my own. Nice.

I grabbed my cup of coffee and got online, like I do almost every morning. The first thing I saw on Facebook was a picture of one of my best girlfriends and her husband, at a crab feed with some people that we know. Having fun. Without me.

Sigh. I need to stay off Facebook.

Saturday was spent running errands and buying groceries, and we stayed locked in the house on Sunday, while it dumped buckets outside. I told The Agent I was feeling sad and he gave me free reign to engage in a little retail therapy, but I didn't even do that. What was I going to buy? There wasn't anything I needed. I could have gone to the Hob Lob or Joann's and I could have bought some randomness, but what would be the point? It's easier to just stay in my pajamas and watch SOA all day.

I need to curl up and go to sleep, and have a better day tomorrow.

Weekend Update

This weekend update could also be titled "The weekend when Lovely proved she's not very intelligent."


Friday started out much like every other Friday lately: I worked late, I came home to find that BK had gotten in trouble at school AGAIN, I ate some pizza. Then I got online and three different friends had tagged me on Facebook, encouraging me to sign up for a 5K that our city is hosting. It starts out late in the afternoon, at 5 pm, and starts as a color run, then turns into a neon run after the sun sets. Sweet! So I signed up and told my friends I had done so.

Two of the friends replied back right away, saying they had checked their schedules and they were out. The one said, "You know that's Easter Sunday, right?"

What??? I checked the calendar. Yep, sure enough, Easter Sunday is on April 5th this year.

Son of a--!

I can't miss the family Easter Egg hunt and the fancy dinner and all that. Even if I go to dinner in my running clothes (which is unacceptable), the run starts at 5, so I have to check in at 4, which means I would have to leave my dad's house by 3, at the latest.   And I have to work the next day! I am not super fit, it takes me AT LEAST 24 hours after a 5K to fully recover. And, of course, no refunds. Ugh! I am so mad that I didn't check the stinkin' calendar first! So dumb of me! Why is Easter on  a different day every year, anyway? That's so lame. It would be so much easier if we could just pick a date and stick to it.

This explains why Easter is on a different day every year.... and I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with when Jesus rose up. 

On Saturday, I woke up ready to start a new day. I am only out $45  if I don't do the run, and maybe I can still figure out a way to make everything work. Maybe I could have Easter at my house this year, or maybe I could suggest we have brunch instead. I was confident that I could figure it out.

I didn't have time to think about it in the morning, because I had to go to a training. Bug has a pioneer field trip coming up, and the all the parent volunteers had to go to a training class, to learn how to be a pioneer. I got ready with plenty of time to spare, and left the house at 9 am. The class started at 9:30, and it was just across town, so I had plenty of time. But then when I looked at the flier to confirm the address, and saw that the class started at 9! What the heck???? I was already late! Oh my gosh! I am so NOT that parent! What do I do, what do I do????

The Agent told me to just drive there and show up late. I would have gotten there 30 minutes late, but it probably would have been ok. Yes, that is what a mature person would have done.

I am clearly not mature. I could not imagine a scenario in which I could muster up enough courage that I could walk in a half hour late to a training class that was only going to be an hour. It was just too horrifying to think about.

So I texted the room mom and told a blatant lie: I was having an emergency and couldn't make the training class, I am so sorry, I still want to go on the field trip, please let me go to another training class.

Lord, please forgive me.

Well, that pretty much put a damper on the whole day. I did penance by cleaning the house. It still looks a little disheveled, but it looks WAY better than it has been looking lately. That evening, The Agent went to a poker tournament and after the kids went to bed I locked myself in my bedroom to try to tackle that crazy messiness while I watched Sons of Anarchy. I just started watching it, so I'm on season I, but I'm already hooked! I'm loving Katey Sagal!

She's awesome.... and Jax is ok, too. 

Sunday was a beautiful day outside, so we did our grocery shopping and then I sat outside in a lounge chair and binge watched Sons of Anarchy while the kids played outside and The Agent slow grilled ribs and and chicken wings.

We didn't go to a Superbowl party, but of course we entered a few football pools, so we turned the game on at the half and watched it until the end. We're not big football fans, but even I had to admit that it was a pretty entertaining game! Go Patriots!

Intercepted! 

Hope you all had a wonderful weekend! See you tonight for The Bachelor!

It's OK to be curly!

Have you seen this Dove commercial?

 

I love this message. Curls are beautiful, and we need to embrace them. If I say my curls are beautiful, then Bug will believe hers are, too. When Bug sees me spend an hour with a flat iron trying to straighten my hair, it sends the message that I'm not happy with the way God made me.

The problem is, sometimes my curly hair looks like this:

And then the very next day, it may look like this:

Dude. I went out in public like this.

Anyway, I'm naming February OK-to-be-curly month, and I will be wearing my hair curly every day in February. And maybe if I wear my hair curly every day, I'll remember how to tame these crazy locks!