Me: “From Asher’s treat bag from school. They’re his but he didn’t want them. I’m going to wear them to your class Christmas party tomorrow.”

Gabriel: “You’re coming to our Christmas party???”

Me: “Of course! I’m the Room Mom for your class, I have to be there.”

Gabriel: “How are there going to be two of you?”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Gabriel: “How are you going to be at Noah’s Christmas party and my Christmas party at the same time?”

Me: “I’m going to yours first, and then I’m going to leave halfway through and go to the last half of Noah’s.”

Gabriel: “Oh. Cool.”

Dude, mothers have been trying to figure out how to split themselves in two for centuries.

Me: (evil death stare)

Keith: “2003! 2003, right?”

Me: (begins to giggle uncontrollably)

Keith: “No, no, no…it was 2001, wasn’t it?”

Me: “Really honey? Really? 2001?”

Keith: “Ummm….1996! Yes! It was 1996!”

Me: (eyebrow-raise followed by more death stare)

***silence***

Me: “What year is it?”

Keith: “2009.”

Me: “And what anniversary did we just celebrate?”

Keith: “Our tenth.”

*more silence*

Me: “So subtract ten years.”

*audible sounds of wheels turning*

Keith: “1999! It was 1999!”

.

.

.

Keith: “And we got married on…the second?”

The End

Me: “Okay.” (fixes him something to eat)

(a couple of minutes later)

Asher: “I can’t pay Mario Kart Wii EFFER, Mama.”

Me: “You can’t? Why?”

Asher: “I can’t push A. I can’t go tha moworcycle, Mama. Is broken.”

Me: “Broken, huh?”

Asher: “Yeah.”

(a couple of minutes later…)

Asher: “I burp. I burp, Mama. I BURP! Okay, Mama?”

Me: “Okay. Excuse you.”

Asher: “Scoo me! …Where my sticker, Mama? Where my sticker? Where my sticker? Where my sticker? Where my sticker? Where my sticker?”

Me: “I DON’T KNOW.”

Asher: “Here is, Mama! Here is! I find it! See, Mama? See? Look me, Mama! LOOK ME!”

Me: “Okay! Yay! You found it!”

(a couple of minutes later…)

Asher: “Here you phone, Mama. Here, Mama. Here you phone. Okay, Mama?”

Me: “Thank you.”

Asher: “I hungy, Mama. I want somepin ta eat. Okay, Mama? Okay?”

Me: “You just had something to eat.”

Asher: “I want somepin ta eat, Mama. I want somepin ta eat. I want somepin ta eat, Mama.”

Me: “Hang on a second, let me finish typing this blog po-”

Asher: “I want somepin ta eat, Mama. I want somepin ta eat. I want somepin ta eat, Mama. I want somepin ta eat. I want somepin ta eat, Mama. I want somepin ta eat. I want somepin ta eat, Mama. I want somepin ta eat. I want somepin ta eat, Mama……”

Just doing my motherly duty and making sure my kids hate me by the time they are teenagers.

Poop poop diaper poop
Poop pee poop more poop pee poop
Yes this is my life

Preschool almost done
Boys will be home all summer
I’m in big trouble

Still nursing toddler
People turn up their noses
Get over yourselves

Mother’s Day coming
I dream of sleeping past six
Hahahahaha

So anyhow. My baby will be 1 year old on Monday. I am sad, happy, and proud. I adore my energetic, strong-willed, enthusiastic boy. He’s walking, saying a few words, and is absolutely hilarious to be around, whether he’s happy or not. He loves his big brothers with a passion, and they love him back. It melts my heart.

I’m tired these days. I’m taking care of another baby (D) because money is very tight and it’s the only way I can afford to keep the twins in preschool. I love this other baby boy, but it’s exhausting all the same. I have him for a lot of hours, longer than I’ve ever kept other kids, and it adds up on me (Mondays are REALLY interesting; I add yet another sweet baby girl to the mix for a few hours. I know, I’m nuts). I can never ever EVER go anywhere or do anything without children with me. Doctor? Kids with me. Grocery store? Screaming babies. Night out? Ash tags along. Playdates? Ash and D. Inevitably someone is crying, someone is tired, and I am stressed and trying to hold it all together. But I keep on keeping on, because I refuse to allow my life to go back to what is has been before, and I refuse to allow my exhaustion to keep me from experiencing life with my boys. Though usually as I frantically gather kids and babies and belongings and load everyone up and go, I wonder what the heck I am thinking. But I know why I do it. I want my children to have happy memories, and it’s my job to make those memories happen. I’ve wasted too much time as it is!

It’s just hard, because I feel constantly pulled in so many directions, but can never seem to make everyone happy – including myself. There are days when everyone needs a piece of me, and there simply aren’t enough pieces to go around. I’m always last on the list, but that’s what I signed up for. This is my job, and though it’s hard, I love it with a passion.

Nobody worry btw, I’m tired, but fine! Just thinking “out loud”. I’m very grateful for my beautiful family and wonderful life. More blogs (and/or rants) coming about my baby boy turning one, my parenting philosophies, and life in general.

Anyhow, I took some benadryl and went to bed. Woke up at 3am throwing up (never happens, unless I’m pregnant, which I am NOT). Back to bed. Woke this morning covered with hives, from my knees to above my jaw line, and my throat felt swollen. Not sore, just swollen inside. I went to the dr (at an urgent care clinic), who said I’d probably developed an allergy to penicillin (I’ve been on antibiotics for a week and a half for a sinus infection).

They wanted to give me a steroid shot, and told me I’d have to stop breastfeeding for a few days. Um, no. Asher has been nursing for 11 months, has taken exactly one bottle of expressed bm when he was a month old, and would have nothing to do with bottles after that. He still eats very little solids; I’m his primary food source. Stopping nursing is not an option. They couldn’t believe it, kept saying, “But you are having a severe allergic reaction, you really need this shot.” I’m not in the hospital in anaphylactic shock; I don’t see how it can be that severe.  Overreacting much, ya think?

So they wrote me a prescription for a Medrol dose pack, but said I should get a second opinion because they weren’t comfortable with me taking it while breastfeeding.

I went to the pharmacy and talked to them, and they said no, I shouldn’t take it while breastfeeding. Just Benadryl. So I came home and looked Medrol up on kellymom. They say it’s approved and listed as L2:
“L2       SAFER:
Drug which has been studied in a limited number of breastfeeding women without an increase in adverse effects in the infant; And/or, the evidence of a demonstrated risk which is likely to follow use of this medication in a breastfeeding woman is remote.”
link to kellymom.com site and Medrol
So now what? According to kellymom, Medrol is pretty safe. I’d like to tough it out, but I’m covered in hives. Covered. My throat still feels half-closed. I’m miserable.

Should I just suck it up and keep on with the Benadryl? Or go and get this prescription filled?  I’m feeling very sorry for myself right now.

(view at your own risk)

January 13th was my due date, a Saturday. I was pretty sure I would never go into labor. I’d been having contractions for weeks (actually, Braxton Hicks for months), and they never turned out to be anything. I went to BRU that day, played around in the nursery, did laundry, took care of Gabriel (who was pretty sick), and basically spent the entire day ignoring the increasingly unpleasant contractions I was having.

I remember feeling very cranky and annoyed with Keith when he wanted me to make dinner, since I wasn’t feeling well. I slammed around the kitchen, put together a casserole, popped it in the oven, tidied up, and told him (rather grouchily) to pull it out of the oven at 6:30. Then I slammed into the bedroom, plopped onto the bed, and went to sleep.

At 7:30 Keith woke me up and asked if I wanted to eat. I got up and had dinner, and that’s when I started to realize that those contractions sure were coming regularly. At 8pm I got on ContractionMaster.com and started timing. They were coming every 5-6 minutes and were over a minute long. And getting stronger. I walked around, drank water, lay down and rested, and they just kept on coming closer and stronger. They were really, really painful in my back especially. I started thinking that *maybe* I was in labor.

At 10pm I started puttering around, getting stuff ready “just in case”. Took a shower, finished packing bags, etc. Told Keith to call assigned people and tell them I might be in early labor. I remember being on my hands and knees through each contraction in the shower, wondering if it was the real thing. Now I can look back and think, duh Beth, of course it was the real thing. But at the time I just couldn’t believe it might actually be happening the way I’d hoped.

Blah blah, long story longer, at 1am I tried to get a little sleep. Doze for a couple of minutes, then a contraction would wake me up, over and over. Finally gave up at 1:30, went out and told Keith (who was on the couch watching tv) to call his sister and tell her to head this way (she lives about 40 minutes away, and was going to watch the boys for us). I went and did some more stuff, and came back to see Keith still on the couch. I asked if his sister was on her way, and he said “Oh, I haven’t called her yet.” I was like, “WHAT?!? I’m in LABOR. Call her NOW!” Yeah, I was starting to freak out a little. =P

She and my BIL arrived at around 2:30, and we gave instructions and left at 3am. And then Keith decided he was hungry. He wanted Taco Bell. Really REALLY wanted Taco Bell. I was all, “Fine, whatever, just hurry up so I can get to my sister’s house.” (I wanted to labor there for a while since she lives just minutes from the hospital, and I didn’t want to show up at the hospital too quickly) So we went to Taco Bell. Closed, of course. We got on the interstate, and the contractions were getting worse. They were every three minutes, and they HURT. I was moaning and holding on through each one. I told Keith forget going to my sister’s house, let’s get to the hospital. So did he go to the hospital? NO. We got off on a different exit, and I was like, “WHAT are you doing? WHERE are we going?” His answer? “I wanted Taco Bell, remember? Maybe the one over here is open.” OK, I was just a bit pissed at this point, obviously. If I didn’t want to stop at my sister’s house, I SURE as heck didn’t want to stop at every stupid Taco Bell in Memphis trying to find one that was open. Which this one wasn’t either. Of course.

So we were off to the hospital for real this time. We got there around 3:30, and went to check in. There was no one in the lobby, no one in the waiting area. Slow night. It felt very unreal. I went to the lady at the desk, and told her I was having a baby and needed to check in. She looked at me and asked if I was scheduled for a c-section or induction that morning. Um, no, I thought the bending over clutching my belly and breathing through contractions as I walked up to her desk might be a big clue that I was actually in labor.

They took me back to triage and told Keith he could join me after they evaluated me. I was the only patient back there. It just felt so strange. I had never done this before. No false alarms with the twins. I never even went into labor with them. This was so new to me, and a little scary.

I put on the hospital gown and they had me get in bed, then strapped on some monitors. That’s when the contractions got hard to deal with. As long as I could move around and get in any position I wanted, I could handle them just fine. Lying on my back in the bed strapped to monitors SUCKED. I was moaning through each contraction, and just wanted to get up, but couldn’t. The nurses asked me a million questions, and it took forever to answer because I couldn’t talk through the contractions very well anymore. I told them the pain was the worst in my back, and seemed to radiate from there. When they found out how long I’d been having regular contractions, they couldn’t believe I had waited so long to come in. I was glad I had waited, because I was handling things well before I got there. I was starting to wish I hadn’t rushed to the hospital when I did, despite the fact the contractions were three minutes apart.

I told them I was trying for a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). They asked if I wanted an epidural. I said no, I wanted to try without one. They asked if I wanted an iv. I said no, just a hep lock for now, and iv only if necessary. They checked me and I was 4cm, baby’s head was very low and my water was very taught. They got Keith, and then took me to my room.

I had Keith put in a cd I’d brought, and my nurse asked me if I wanted a popsicle and ice chips. I said yes, so she brought me some. I was doing okay again in the bed, breathing through the contractions, though I really wished I could get up and move around. Keith was sitting on the couch texting. Everything was calm and quiet. I was eating the popsicle and took a break to breath through an especially unpleasant contraction, when POP. I felt this bursting feeling and then an incredible rushing pressure just pouring out. It was very forceful and almost painful. I was instantly drenched. I looked at Keith and said, “My water just broke.” He said, “I know, I heard it!” Yeah. I heard it too, I just thought maybe I’d imagined it since I felt it pop at the same time. But no, it popped like a balloon. It was crazy loud.

I called the nurse and told her “my water just broke everywhere”. She said, “Oh good! I’ll be right in there!” She came in, pulled back my blanket, and said, “Oh my gosh!” I immediately thought something was wrong, meconium in the water or something. I asked if everything was okay, and she said yes, she just wasn’t expecting to see so MUCH water. It was everywhere. There were puddles, seriously. I’m glad it broke there at the hospital, because what a mess that would have been anywhere else. She had to change all of the linens, my hospital gown, even the belts around my belly holding the monitors. Lovely. She told me my contractions would get stronger now. Yippee. It was 4:30am.

This is where things get blurry. The contractions immediately went from tolerable to horrible. I remember clutching the bed rail in agony, trying to manage the pain, and failing. I remember the nurse coming in and having me turn on my side, putting on the oxygen mask (which ended up not coming off until after Asher’s birth), and then putting in an internal monitor. I remember being terrified as she stood silently next to me, pressing my belly and staring at the monitor, saying “Come on, baby” under her breath, and then giving me a fake smile and telling me it was okay, but the baby’s heart really didn’t like the contractions now that my water had broken.

I remember another nurse coming in, and them starting an iv. They took out the internal monitor, thinking maybe it wasn’t reading things correctly. Then they put it back in. They had me flip from side to side, and told me to breath. I remember at one point the nurse told me to turn to my other side at the end of the contraction, but the contractions weren’t ending anymore. I couldn’t do it. She had to pry my fingers from the rail and turn me, because I couldn’t do anything. I was frozen from the pain, and there was no in-between contractions. No beginning and no end. It was a constant central pain in my lower back that washed in waves over my belly and then the rest of my body. The nurse said I was having “monster contractions”; really long ones that overlapped one another, and the baby’s heart wasn’t dealing with them well at all. I could hear the monitor before they turned off the volume. It was terrifying hearing the beep.beep.beep, and then beep……beep……..beep……….beep as I had contractions.

I was scared to death. I thought I could handle things if I had even seconds between to collect myself, but there was no break. And Keith, bless his heart, sucks as a labor coach. He was sitting on the couch texting through most of this. At one point I remember forcing myself to talk (talking broke my concentration, even that was almost impossible), and said, “Keith, where ARE you?” He got up and held my hand for a minute, then went and sat down again. ARGH! I wanted him next to me! I love you babe, but dang. That sucked.

So anyhow. I dealt with it for well over an hour, and then I was done. I believe my exact words to the nurse were, “Screw natural childbirth. I think I’d like that epidural now.” My hat is off to those of you who have gone natural all the way. That hour or so was hardcore. Those who have done it to the end have my utmost respect, especially if you had overlapping contractions and back labor. Because, whoa. You’re Super Woman.

So by 6:30am I had my epidural, and had vowed my undying love to the anesthesiologist. I’ve never been more excited and ready to have a big ol’ needle stuck in my back. The relief was absolutely wonderful. They checked me and I was a good 5cm. I couldn’t believe that was IT, after all of that. My nurse reassured me that those were some nasty contractions, and I did well making it that long. Yeah, whatever. I was just glad that part was over.

My mom and my sister Emily came in immediately after my epi, and I was a happy camper. I was still being told to breath and was being flipped from side to side and the monitor was carefully watched, but the sense of fear and urgency had seemed to pass for the moment. I guess my relaxing helped the baby relax too, I don’t know. My MIL came soon after, and it was a big happy party. Okay, maybe not party, but the vibe was certainly calmer than it had been. =P

My mom told me she’d been afraid this might happen, that I’d be in labor on the morning she HAD to play at church (she plays keyboard in their worship team). There was no one else, she had to be there. I was bummed, but then asked Keith’s mom if she would stay if my mom couldn’t. She of course said yes.

At about 7am the OB on call that morning came in. It wasn’t my OB, but it was a man I’d seen just three weeks ago when she was on vacation, so I knew who he was. He checked me, and I was almost 9cm. Yeah, that’s right. Almost 9cm, already. It went FAST after the epidural. It felt very unreal. Here it was happening. It was really happening like I’d hoped, my baby was coming, I was going to get my VBAC.

My mom was very upset, but she had to leave. A few minutes later they checked me again, and I was complete, 10cm. Pushing time!

They set everything up, and the pushing started. It was hard, because I couldn’t feel myself pushing at all. They kept asking me if I felt the contractions, felt pressure or the urge to push, but I didn’t feel anything. I tried to remember everything I’d read and heard, and gave it all I had. Pushed through a few contractions, the whole time thinking about how low the baby had been for the last several weeks, so hopefully this would go quickly. Nope. The OB stepped back, looked at me, and said in a matter-of-fact voice, “You have a lot of pushing to do.” He left, and the nurses kept on with me. I think I knew at that point that it wasn’t going to happen, but I kept on trying. I remember one of the nurses telling me to push one last good push, and I gave it absolutely everything I had, thinking, “Beth, you HAVE to do this. This is your chance. You have to make that baby move down or this is not going to happen.” Then they told me to take a break. That urgent, scary vibe was back.

There was a lot of activity at that point, moving things around, someone shaved me “just in case”, and stuff like that. It was at that point that I started feeling pressure and the urge to push, but they told me not to push anymore. The OB came back and checked me one last time, and then came to talk to me. He said that despite all of my pushing, the baby had not moved one bit. I had an “oddly shaped pelvis”, and it wasn’t allowing the baby’s head to come down any farther. He told me that maybe I could push for three more hours and get the baby out, but from the way the baby’s heart was acting, that was not a safe option. If we continued we might be in an emergency situation, and I think he said something about lack of oxygen and brain damage. That pretty much sealed it for me. I said let’s do this, give me a c-section. I want my baby safe and healthy.

Lots more activity then, as they quickly got things ready. I started crying, just because it had all been going well and here I was still having a c-section. I was disappointed and sad. Emily and Keith stood by me, telling me it would be okay. The nurses were all around me, telling me I needed to breath still, the baby needed my air. We heard a loud bang, but I ignored it, thinking in all the activity someone had dropped something. Then Keith and a nurse looked at each other, and suddenly they were both running for the bathroom door. As they ran I heard another nurse say, “Was that her?” and I thought, “Huh? Me? I’m right here.” Then there were people rushing everywhere as Keith opened the bathroom door and caught his mom’s head where she was leaning. She had felt upset and unwell from all the excitement, so she went into the bathroom for a minute, where she then fainted and slammed her head into the door.

Oh my word, the drama. It was loud and scary and mass confusion. I was freaking out. Seriously. The nurses who were still with me were telling me to breath, breath for my baby, I had to calm down. Keith was by his mother on the floor, answering questions to those who had come in for her. Emily came up next to me and her eyes were red and teary, and she told me in a shaky but calm voice that it was okay, Keith’s mom would be okay, my baby would be fine, I just needed to breath. That helped me so much, and I was able to calm down a little after that.

I could tell Keith felt very torn. I told him to go with his mother, I would be okay, I understood, I wouldn’t be mad. He didn’t know what to do. Finally a nurse decided for him. She told him they would take care of his mother; his place was with me. Emily told me not to worry, she would stay with his mom if they let her, she would make sure everything made it out of the room okay, just go have a baby. So once they finally got Keith’s mom out, they wheeled me out right after. Keith had to stay and get into his hospital garb.

I’ll never forget that. I remember looking up at the ceiling lights as they took me to surgery, thinking, “I will not let this moment be ruined. It is what it is, I am going to be happy now.” And I was. I felt so calm and peaceful and excited as they got me ready for the surgery. I remember asking over and over, “Where’s Keith? Where’s my husband?” and they told me he would come soon. I asked the anesthesiologist if they would show me the baby after it was born, because they didn’t do that with my boys. I didn’t get to see them until the surgery was over and they were taking us out of the room, even though they were both perfectly healthy. She promised me they would.

They finally let Keith in, and had already cutting. I was happy and calm and chatty, telling them if it was a boy his name would be Asher, and a girl would be Penelope. When they started to pull the baby out the anesthesiologist said, “It looks like a boy face to me,” then said, “We don’t know yet, it’s not all the way out, but it looks like a boy face.” Then the OB told Keith to look as he pulled out the baby, and said, “What do we have, dad?” And Keith started laughing and said, “We have us another boy!” I remember laughing and saying, “I knew it, I knew it!” He was born at 8:19am.

They showed him to me like they’d promised, just for a second, and he was beautiful. He looked so big compared to his twin brothers as newborns.

Then they took him and started working on him. He wasn’t crying at all. The boys started screaming their heads off almost before they had pulled them all the way from me, but Asher wouldn’t cry. I’m going by the video now, because this is all very fuzzy for me. I started feeling very strange and sick right after they got him out, and they loaded me up with all kinds of drugs.

In the video Asher looked blue and was very still, not moving much at all. The nurses were slapping him hard on his back repeatedly, giving him oxygen, but he just lay there. It wasn’t an emergency, they didn’t rush him off to NICU, but it’s scary to watch. You can feel the tension when you watch the video. He eventually cried just a little, and the nurse said he would be okay, he was just the “strong silent type”. They brought him over for me to look at, and I had to force my eyes to open and my tongue to move. I don’t know what they gave me, but it was heavy-duty.

They later told me when I was in recovery that I had several PVCs (Premature Ventricular Contractions) during surgery, and I really needed to get it checked out at a later date, because I’d had a lot, which wasn’t normal (um, yeah, still need to do that). Keith said the way the doctor and nurses acted while it was going on had scared him to death. I don’t remember any of it, but I’ll take his word for it.

They then helped me get Asher latched on to nurse, and he was a pro from the start. He did great. I had to have help holding him, since I couldn’t make my arms work yet. It took a while for all of that extra stuff they gave me to wear off. My mom came up then. My sister had called her and she left church as soon as she found out what was going on. I was so glad to see her. When she came up, Keith went to check on his mother. At some point they took Asher to see Keith’s mom. I was glad they did, I hoped it would help her feel better. She had passed out because of all of the stress and excitement and scariness going on, and it was too much for her.

Asher was making strange grunting squeaky sounds while breathing, so they took him to the nursery to observe him for awhile. I got to go to my new room, and eventually they brought him back to me, and my love-affair with my beautiful boy got to really begin. 8lbs 8oz, 22 inches long.

I had a much easier recovery from this c-section than from the one with the twins, though there were a few issues. I went home on Tuesday, and was back in the hospital on Friday. Keith had bought a home blood pressure monitor, and I’d been checking mine because of my history with the boys (bp shot way up after they were born, had to go on mag and then meds for a month, etc.). Wednesday it was a little high. Thursday it was higher. Friday morning it was 190-something over 100-something. Off to the doctor I went, where they immediately sent me to the hospital. I cried like a baby when the doctor told me I might get out that night, but I’d probably be there for the weekend. I ended up getting to go home that night after all, just on strict bedrest for a few days.

Anyhow, it all worked out. My bp finally went back down after a month of meds. Asher is perfect, no problems despite the crazy labor and birth. I can’t help but blame myself a bit for his problems at birth. I was on some medicine that very likely caused it, but it is what it is. I didn’t have a choice, and he’s okay. I wish I didn’t have to have another c-section; it still makes me sad sometimes, but considering the circumstances, it had to happen. I have a healthy baby, and that’s all that matters.

Now he’s four months old. He’s a happy, laughing baby. He won’t take a bottle and loves to suck his thumb to go to sleep. He’s trying to roll over, and sometimes succeeds. He’s huge and chubby and rolly. He looks like Keith (not that Keith is huge and chubby and rolly, lol). He loves to snuggle. I hold him for hours and just rock him and kiss him. His big brothers adore him. They’re wonderful with him, and he thinks they hung the moon. He loves his daddy, but only mommy will do when he wants comfort. He’s a mama’s boy, and I wouldn’t change a thing. He’s the best surprise I’ve ever had, and I love him so much. Welcome to the world, Asher.