Last week I had my first appointment with the GI specialist. The doctor was handsome, very smart, and eager. He put together my history, like the flu in February and unexplained anemia since I was a teenager. The senior fellow came in (it’s the University so it’s a teaching hospital; I just thought it was funny that the “learner” himself is a full-fledged MD) and praised handsome doc for the job he did with the background analysis. Essentially they think I’ve pretty much always been celiac. In 10-15% of cases the only symptom that ever manifests is anemia so if I hadn’t had the triggering event of the viral infection, I possibly would never have known. Senior doc thought it was irresponsible of my past doctors to not look deeper but hey, it was over 20 years ago and they assumed it was puberty and starting to menstruate and all that and I’ve been taking iron for so long I just never think about it. He thinks that the mal-absorption of iron will go away with the other dietary changes, so that’ll be interesting. I wasn’t supposed to eliminate gluten yet though; they wanted me to wait until after the endoscopy. They expect that I’ll notice improvement in things I never noticed were affecting me before, like energy levels. When he asked if I’m often tired I joked that I have young kids, of course I’m tired!
I had my endoscopy yesterday. Because of a series of stupid events, I was over two hours early. (And hungry. I couldn’t eat anything after 7am.) I was fine in the waiting room but when they took me in to the prep room I started to freak out. The prep nurse explained to me step by step everything they were going to do and when she left to let me change into my hospital gown, I started crying. Yes, it’s PMS week so my emotions are nuts but I was still in tears. She came in and tried to help soothe me a bit and put in the IV shunt, which never felt right the entire time. I don’t remember it being so uncomfortable when I had them in for labor. But then again, I was in labor so a bit distracted. I had some time to read and text so that helped to keep my mind off of it but not completely.
Then they came to get me to the procedure room. There was a different nurse for that one and she was amazing. She tried to re-settle my IV and wrapped me up in hot blankets and did a fantastic job of helping to calm me. But I was still on the verge of bawling the whole time. They had warned me that the same senior doctor was always 15 minutes late. He ended up being an hour late. I just tried to close my eyes and doze off. It’s hard to actually sleep when there’s so much hustling and bustling in the hall outside and when your nerves are so on edge. Doctor finally got there and he’s a Tasmanian devil of humor and activity so I didn’t have time to freak out. He went through what they were going to do again and then he sprayed the back of my throat with basically just that lidocaine stuff the dentist uses; I had to swallow it though to get it down as far as possible. Meanwhile the nurse was injecting the narcotics and something else into my IV shunt. They hit me so fast. I felt woozy, like that spot *just before* you get the spins when you’re lying down after too many drinks. But it never got to the spins thankfully. I got another dose of the spray and another dose of the hippie drugs and they had me lying on my left side. Then I had to bite onto this circular bite guard thing and the doctor stuck the hose in my mouth. I had my eyes closed so I wouldn’t accidentally see it or the view screens from the camera. I had to swallow it and that was the hardest part. My gag reflex was tamed from the numbing spray but I still had to swallow three times to get it past. Then it was basically like being at the dentist, with the doctor giving the nurse instructions that meant nothing to me and she was doing stuff I couldn’t see and also rubbing my back and telling me how good I was doing and reminding me to breathe through my nose. Then the doctor said he was done and pulled the thing out. It took about 4 minutes. Then I had to spit out all the collected spittle (which obviously I couldn’t swallow with the thing down my throat) and they wheeled me to the recovery area to come down from the drugs.
My sister came in and I could barely follow along with her usual pace of things. The recovery nurse had me drink some water to make sure I could swallow. I was super loopy from the “conscious sedation”, which they do because otherwise they’d have to have you on the breathing machine if you were knocked out fully. All I cared about was getting the dang IV thing removed because it was so uncomfortable. I can definitely understand why they don’t want you driving but I would have been able to take the bus by myself. But they don’t have any way of knowing that I’m an expert bus taker. So. I was mostly down from the drugs by the time we got home and then I was just starving and tired. I went to bed at 8:30 last night.
The doctor came in while I was in recovery to talk about what he saw. He took biopsies of a couple different spots, in my stomach and duodenum, and will call me tomorrow with the results. But he said that if it’s not positive for celiac then he’s a liar. Which is why I have to start my new diet right away. I have to make an appointment with the nutritionist, too. We haven’t done any gluten-free shopping yet, and can’t until pay day, so I’m making due with what’s on hand. Which is mainly corn tortillas.
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
Butt Update
Last week Ronnie started wearing underpants. Now, this does not mean she is fully potty trained. In fact, I would say instead that she is merely in the process of potty training. She still has accidents. Lots and lots of accidents. But for her, just wearing panties is enough to make her remember to use the potty and she really, really hates having to wear a diaper at all now.
It’s amazing how different the potty training experience is with Veronica compared to her brother. Kirk was just uninterested in it at all. Pure laziness. He would have kept going in a diaper forever if we would have let him. Which is why we started the sticker charts. Potty candy was all well and good but ultimately, he needed a bigger reward. Earning stickers to save up for a toy prize mattered a whole lot more to him than the personal pride of a pair of underpants. I guess that’s why Ronnie’s moving forward so much quicker and at such a younger age. I’m not sure if it’s the younger sibling thing or the girls-train-earlier-than-boys thing or personality differences or some combination of all of that. But it’s definitely been unique.
Kirk always used the actual potty chair. He didn’t switch to the potty ring until he had been using the little chair for quite some time. We’d always have to clean it out and it was gross. Ronnie has never used anything but the toilet seat ring insert. When she was first showing interest many months ago, I pulled the potty chair out and she would sit on it but it was basically just a toy. She didn’t start actually going until I set her on the ring. That’s what she uses at daycare, too.
So now I make sure she goes every morning when she first gets up. She’s really good at morning pee. The rest of the day is hit or miss. She’s been going to daycare in underpants but always ends up coming home in a diaper. She still needs one while sleeping so she needs one while taking a nap. Miss Ronica likes to then have her panties on top of her diaper, so she’s still wearing them. Sort of. I must say, size 2T Hello Kitty panties are just about the cutest thing ever.
Mama’s also been having increased potty focus the past few months. The entire family got hit with a nasty bout of stomach flu back in February. All four of us were down for several days with repeated puking and diarrhea. It was not fun. But after we all got well, my butt never went back to normal. Essentially, I’ve had intermittent diarrhea for months now. I thought maybe it was red meat so cut that out. I cut out alcohol and caffeine and dairy. None of that made any difference. I tried adding lactobacillus to my water. Nope. So I finally went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago and had blood taken and had to provide a stool sample. That was a real joy to collect.
Last week I got the results of the tests back. “Your blood tests for Celiac disease (gluten sensitivity) were both quite elevated. This makes the diagnosis quite likely.” Awesome. I have an appointment with a gastrointestinal specialist set up for next month. But in the meantime, I get to speculate on life with a possible celiac diagnosis. There is no cure. The only way to fix my butt issues would be to change my diet. Radically change my diet. Wheat gluten is in *everything*. Seriously. It’s used to thicken even ice cream! I love pasta and bread and crackers and cereal. Sure, my favorite grains have long been corn and oats but there’s wheat flour in corn bread and dieticians are divided on whether or not oat gluten is also bad. Basically it’s at the point now where every time I eat a sandwich or a plate of spaghetti I find myself thinking, “Is this the last time I’ll ever be able to eat it?” I’m not supposed to modify my diet on my own before additional testing or else I’d have to eat a bunch of gluten specifically for tests. So in the meantime, I’m keeping on keeping on.
But what will this mean for my family? I already have a massively picky eater in Kirk. Dinner is a fight more often than not. I don’t want to have to make special meals for myself but I also don’t want to have to force them to eat weird grains and bizarre recipes when they don’t have to. There are just so many factors and such a potential for ripple effects. I’m trying not to worry. But being celiac would certainly help to make sense of certain things my whole life so part of me would be happy just to have the answers. Even if that means knowing that I’ll pay later for that sandwich on delicious whole grain bread.
It’s amazing how different the potty training experience is with Veronica compared to her brother. Kirk was just uninterested in it at all. Pure laziness. He would have kept going in a diaper forever if we would have let him. Which is why we started the sticker charts. Potty candy was all well and good but ultimately, he needed a bigger reward. Earning stickers to save up for a toy prize mattered a whole lot more to him than the personal pride of a pair of underpants. I guess that’s why Ronnie’s moving forward so much quicker and at such a younger age. I’m not sure if it’s the younger sibling thing or the girls-train-earlier-than-boys thing or personality differences or some combination of all of that. But it’s definitely been unique.
Kirk always used the actual potty chair. He didn’t switch to the potty ring until he had been using the little chair for quite some time. We’d always have to clean it out and it was gross. Ronnie has never used anything but the toilet seat ring insert. When she was first showing interest many months ago, I pulled the potty chair out and she would sit on it but it was basically just a toy. She didn’t start actually going until I set her on the ring. That’s what she uses at daycare, too.
So now I make sure she goes every morning when she first gets up. She’s really good at morning pee. The rest of the day is hit or miss. She’s been going to daycare in underpants but always ends up coming home in a diaper. She still needs one while sleeping so she needs one while taking a nap. Miss Ronica likes to then have her panties on top of her diaper, so she’s still wearing them. Sort of. I must say, size 2T Hello Kitty panties are just about the cutest thing ever.
Mama’s also been having increased potty focus the past few months. The entire family got hit with a nasty bout of stomach flu back in February. All four of us were down for several days with repeated puking and diarrhea. It was not fun. But after we all got well, my butt never went back to normal. Essentially, I’ve had intermittent diarrhea for months now. I thought maybe it was red meat so cut that out. I cut out alcohol and caffeine and dairy. None of that made any difference. I tried adding lactobacillus to my water. Nope. So I finally went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago and had blood taken and had to provide a stool sample. That was a real joy to collect.
Last week I got the results of the tests back. “Your blood tests for Celiac disease (gluten sensitivity) were both quite elevated. This makes the diagnosis quite likely.” Awesome. I have an appointment with a gastrointestinal specialist set up for next month. But in the meantime, I get to speculate on life with a possible celiac diagnosis. There is no cure. The only way to fix my butt issues would be to change my diet. Radically change my diet. Wheat gluten is in *everything*. Seriously. It’s used to thicken even ice cream! I love pasta and bread and crackers and cereal. Sure, my favorite grains have long been corn and oats but there’s wheat flour in corn bread and dieticians are divided on whether or not oat gluten is also bad. Basically it’s at the point now where every time I eat a sandwich or a plate of spaghetti I find myself thinking, “Is this the last time I’ll ever be able to eat it?” I’m not supposed to modify my diet on my own before additional testing or else I’d have to eat a bunch of gluten specifically for tests. So in the meantime, I’m keeping on keeping on.
But what will this mean for my family? I already have a massively picky eater in Kirk. Dinner is a fight more often than not. I don’t want to have to make special meals for myself but I also don’t want to have to force them to eat weird grains and bizarre recipes when they don’t have to. There are just so many factors and such a potential for ripple effects. I’m trying not to worry. But being celiac would certainly help to make sense of certain things my whole life so part of me would be happy just to have the answers. Even if that means knowing that I’ll pay later for that sandwich on delicious whole grain bread.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Walter
One week ago today our lives changed. Mr. b and Veronica got in a car accident. He called me from the scene and I could tell from his voice that he was in shock. He claimed they were both fine but that he was sore. But “sore” can mean just about anything. I immediately left for the bus and met them at the hospital. It was the longest bus ride of my life. Just seeing them both made me feel so much better. I held onto Ronnie so tight. She had been such a good girl for her daddy, who was laid up on an ER triage bed, too sore to move around much. Drugs took the edge off and an x-ray showed he didn’t have internal injuries so we were sent home.
The bruises got worse. Ronnie had a fierce one on her shoulder that started to fade right away. But the two on her thighs deepened to a dark purple. I guess it’s proof that the carseat was installed correctly but it was still brutal to see on my sweet bundle. Mr. b’s bruises are still going strong. The one across his stomach from the lap belt was darkest at first, along with his side and upper thigh. But it’s the sash diagonally across his chest that has proven to be the most painful. He is still tender to the touch and his skin is a sickly green color where the seatbelt crossed his torso.
Life can change in an instant. Every time I hold Ronnie, I find myself thinking that it’s precious time that could have been taken from me. Even when she’s being brutal and hitting me in the head, pulling my hair, ripping my nose ring out, I’m just so glad to have her here. Yesterday was our 13th wedding anniversary and it took on increased importance to me because I nearly didn’t get to celebrate.
But the bureaucracy of life is already doing its damnedest to diminish the lucky and blessed feeling. We still don’t have a car. We have a loaner pick-up from my dad but it’s unwieldy and just a poor fit for us and our lifestyle. Our insurance will cover the medical bills and the car loan but then what? We won’t have a trade-in vehicle and we won’t have a down payment and we only have one full-time salary. I miss Walter. Ensign Walter Pontiac bravely gave his life to save my family. RIP.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Melancholy Musings
Sometime around 15 years ago my dad had a tumor removed. It had been growing inside his sinus cavity and was the size of a grapefruit. It was benign. But it was so weird and fucked up that the surgeon requested to have students and other staff witness the operation and went on to write a paper about it. I’m sure the tumor itself resides in a jar somewhere.
On Friday I noticed a strange solid lump under my nostril, deep within my lip tissue. Naturally I immediately went to the paranoid place and thought of my dad’s tumor. Yesterday the doctor assured me it was either another staph outbreak or, more likely, a zit or cold sore type thing that is simply too deep to actually erupt. That would certainly explain the swollen feeling. He called it a furuncle, wrote me up a prescription, and I at least psychologically feel better.
Over the weekend I found myself thinking about my own untimely demise. After the sudden death of a coworker this year I find myself less and less afraid of death itself, which has always been too horrifying for me to even contemplate. It still quickens my pulse to think about too realistically but I’ve come to realize that I won’t actually care when it happens. It’ll be those that are left behind that matter. And that’s made me worry about being remembered by my children.
Luke Skywalker asks Princess Leia if she remembers her mother. She claims that yes, she does. Now obviously, if she means Padme, this is a bunch of bullshit. I can retcon/fanwank it that hey, she’s probably teaming with the Force, too, and so maybe she actually does have a vague recollection of that one image of her mother’s face, minutes after being born. But that’s seems like crossing into Dune territory and Leia is no Alia. It’s far more likely that Leia is talking about her adopted mother, Bail Organa’s wife, who apparently must have died when Leia was still quite young. Now the fact that Luke knows he’s adopted and Leia seems to be unaware is a separate issue that I’ve also spent far too much time pondering.
Kirk is five. He remembers things that I don’t remember. He brings up incidents in his past that once he’s jogged my memory I can recall but I never would have given them a second thought if he hadn’t called attention to them. What about Veronica? She’s 16 months. Even if she was teaming with the Force, would she remember more than a vague impression?
Ronnie and I have been missing each other a lot lately. We somehow came to the mutual realization that we really don’t spend all that much time together. I get home from work, we have dinner, we go for a walk or play outside, then it’s bath, jammies, bottle, bed. I see her only for a couple of hours every day. That’s not enough time and yet I don’t know how to make it more. We’ve spent some long weekends together recently and that’s helped. But I still long for her and she still immediately defers to me once I come home, no matter how much she loves spending the day with her daddy. What would happen to her if she grew up without a mother?
I’ve been keeping this blog since I found out I was pregnant with Kirk, nearly 6 years ago now. In some ways I consider it a text for his future, a record of his early years that’s almost certainly filled with too much information. I don’t think the same can be said for his sister. I write less and less often of late and though I try to give equal time to both kids, there’s just no way to include as much detail about Ronnie because she’s younger and she’s not an only child. She has to deal with being the second kid in so many ways. I haven’t written word one in her baby book. We haven’t gotten portraits of her to send to all her extended family. She has virtually no toys of her own, playing instead with cars and action figures that her brother already acquired. I know she’ll never know any different and so won’t have an issue with that. I know she’ll come into her own with language development and we will get her separate things as she gets older. But will she have a record of what her mama thought? I hope so. I hope she’ll be able to ask me directly. If not, I hope she’ll have as many years of blog entries as her brother. And yet I feel like I’m just about ready to retire this whole blog endeavor. What comes next?
On Friday I noticed a strange solid lump under my nostril, deep within my lip tissue. Naturally I immediately went to the paranoid place and thought of my dad’s tumor. Yesterday the doctor assured me it was either another staph outbreak or, more likely, a zit or cold sore type thing that is simply too deep to actually erupt. That would certainly explain the swollen feeling. He called it a furuncle, wrote me up a prescription, and I at least psychologically feel better.
Over the weekend I found myself thinking about my own untimely demise. After the sudden death of a coworker this year I find myself less and less afraid of death itself, which has always been too horrifying for me to even contemplate. It still quickens my pulse to think about too realistically but I’ve come to realize that I won’t actually care when it happens. It’ll be those that are left behind that matter. And that’s made me worry about being remembered by my children.
Luke Skywalker asks Princess Leia if she remembers her mother. She claims that yes, she does. Now obviously, if she means Padme, this is a bunch of bullshit. I can retcon/fanwank it that hey, she’s probably teaming with the Force, too, and so maybe she actually does have a vague recollection of that one image of her mother’s face, minutes after being born. But that’s seems like crossing into Dune territory and Leia is no Alia. It’s far more likely that Leia is talking about her adopted mother, Bail Organa’s wife, who apparently must have died when Leia was still quite young. Now the fact that Luke knows he’s adopted and Leia seems to be unaware is a separate issue that I’ve also spent far too much time pondering.
Kirk is five. He remembers things that I don’t remember. He brings up incidents in his past that once he’s jogged my memory I can recall but I never would have given them a second thought if he hadn’t called attention to them. What about Veronica? She’s 16 months. Even if she was teaming with the Force, would she remember more than a vague impression?
Ronnie and I have been missing each other a lot lately. We somehow came to the mutual realization that we really don’t spend all that much time together. I get home from work, we have dinner, we go for a walk or play outside, then it’s bath, jammies, bottle, bed. I see her only for a couple of hours every day. That’s not enough time and yet I don’t know how to make it more. We’ve spent some long weekends together recently and that’s helped. But I still long for her and she still immediately defers to me once I come home, no matter how much she loves spending the day with her daddy. What would happen to her if she grew up without a mother?
I’ve been keeping this blog since I found out I was pregnant with Kirk, nearly 6 years ago now. In some ways I consider it a text for his future, a record of his early years that’s almost certainly filled with too much information. I don’t think the same can be said for his sister. I write less and less often of late and though I try to give equal time to both kids, there’s just no way to include as much detail about Ronnie because she’s younger and she’s not an only child. She has to deal with being the second kid in so many ways. I haven’t written word one in her baby book. We haven’t gotten portraits of her to send to all her extended family. She has virtually no toys of her own, playing instead with cars and action figures that her brother already acquired. I know she’ll never know any different and so won’t have an issue with that. I know she’ll come into her own with language development and we will get her separate things as she gets older. But will she have a record of what her mama thought? I hope so. I hope she’ll be able to ask me directly. If not, I hope she’ll have as many years of blog entries as her brother. And yet I feel like I’m just about ready to retire this whole blog endeavor. What comes next?
Friday, April 23, 2010
Hear Me Moan
Extreme TMI and Whining Warning: Continue Reading At Your Own Peril
This has been a very bad week for belsum’s nethers. It started off with just a bump. I found a bump on my delicate girl parts last week. Figured it was just a zit. Last weekend was the big Ronnie’s Naming Ceremony weekend with my in-laws flying up from Texas and lots of evening fires in our backyard with family and good friends. So I figured if the bump wasn’t gone by Monday, I’d go have it checked out just to be sure. Got the results yesterday from the culture they took: staph. Great. But it so far doesn’t seem to be as virulent as the staph infections Mr. b was dealing with in succession a few years ago. They just prescribed me a topical ointment to apply to the affected area. So far so good.
Monday evening I started feeling all rumbly in my tumbly. Lord knows I ate like a madwoman during all the festivities of the weekend so I didn’t give it much thought. I slept fitfully when I went to bed and then woke up about 1:30 am and spent the next two hours in the bathroom. And then made return trips at far too frequent intervals. Obviously frequent wiping, causing chafing and chapping, is just the thing to help prevent the spread of a staph infection! Oh wait, no it’s not. I was completely wrecked all day Tuesday and still extremely weak Wednesday. Started to come out of it Thursday but still tired. And yeah, when you’re averaging 900 calories on top of violently excreting every shred of food from your bowels, that’s gonna take its toll.
I really thought that was the end of it. But instead…my period has come back. For the first time since I got knocked up with Ronnie I’m menstruating. I spotted a little bit when I went on the nursing pill. And there was the lochia flow after giving birth. But those don’t count. This is actual monthly visitor action. It started out spotty on Monday but was really dark. Like my body was cleaning everything out after not being used for a long time. Which, come to think of it, was probably exactly what was happening. But by yesterday the flow became normal. Everything else? Is so not what I’m used to. Granted I’m out of practice. But I never had bloating this bad. I never had PMS this harsh. I was never ready to call it a sick day just for my stupid period before. And I’m just ridiculous amounts of uncomfortable. Food makes me ill. I’m scared to frickin’ fart. Nothing I’ve tried has brought me any relief. This had better just be part of the system overload of all this happening at once. As my friend put it, a bug sneaking in while PMS had my shields down. I just don’t know how I’m going to adapt if this will be my new monthly reality. Oh, I know there are plenty of women out there that are used to big-time horrible symptoms. But I never used to be one of them. Then again, I do remember a slight worsening after I had Kirk. That’s when the day of icky poo as a late PMS indicator started happening. Well great. So I guess this is the thanks I get for having another baby. It’s like it’s exponentially getting more extreme. Blerg.
This has been a very bad week for belsum’s nethers. It started off with just a bump. I found a bump on my delicate girl parts last week. Figured it was just a zit. Last weekend was the big Ronnie’s Naming Ceremony weekend with my in-laws flying up from Texas and lots of evening fires in our backyard with family and good friends. So I figured if the bump wasn’t gone by Monday, I’d go have it checked out just to be sure. Got the results yesterday from the culture they took: staph. Great. But it so far doesn’t seem to be as virulent as the staph infections Mr. b was dealing with in succession a few years ago. They just prescribed me a topical ointment to apply to the affected area. So far so good.
Monday evening I started feeling all rumbly in my tumbly. Lord knows I ate like a madwoman during all the festivities of the weekend so I didn’t give it much thought. I slept fitfully when I went to bed and then woke up about 1:30 am and spent the next two hours in the bathroom. And then made return trips at far too frequent intervals. Obviously frequent wiping, causing chafing and chapping, is just the thing to help prevent the spread of a staph infection! Oh wait, no it’s not. I was completely wrecked all day Tuesday and still extremely weak Wednesday. Started to come out of it Thursday but still tired. And yeah, when you’re averaging 900 calories on top of violently excreting every shred of food from your bowels, that’s gonna take its toll.
I really thought that was the end of it. But instead…my period has come back. For the first time since I got knocked up with Ronnie I’m menstruating. I spotted a little bit when I went on the nursing pill. And there was the lochia flow after giving birth. But those don’t count. This is actual monthly visitor action. It started out spotty on Monday but was really dark. Like my body was cleaning everything out after not being used for a long time. Which, come to think of it, was probably exactly what was happening. But by yesterday the flow became normal. Everything else? Is so not what I’m used to. Granted I’m out of practice. But I never had bloating this bad. I never had PMS this harsh. I was never ready to call it a sick day just for my stupid period before. And I’m just ridiculous amounts of uncomfortable. Food makes me ill. I’m scared to frickin’ fart. Nothing I’ve tried has brought me any relief. This had better just be part of the system overload of all this happening at once. As my friend put it, a bug sneaking in while PMS had my shields down. I just don’t know how I’m going to adapt if this will be my new monthly reality. Oh, I know there are plenty of women out there that are used to big-time horrible symptoms. But I never used to be one of them. Then again, I do remember a slight worsening after I had Kirk. That’s when the day of icky poo as a late PMS indicator started happening. Well great. So I guess this is the thanks I get for having another baby. It’s like it’s exponentially getting more extreme. Blerg.
Monday, February 08, 2010
Three is the new Two?
Last night Mr. b and I talked about vasectomies. He’s apparently been doing some research about them and is not at all encouraged by what he’s read. He doesn’t want one. And honestly, that’s fine. I don’t mind taking the pill. I’ve been on it for nearly 20 years now. I take iron pills every day anyway so it’s not really any big deal to take two pills at night instead of just one. I told him that if we just keep going like we have been, there’s always a chance of an Oops, though we never had so much as a scare before I was off the pill. But more than that, I warned him that I might want to have another kid at some point in the next 7 or so years.
I’m the oldest of three kids so there’s always going to be something in the back of my head that tells me that’s the “right” number of kids to have. When Ronnie was first born I felt very strongly that I was going to want another one. I’m not sure why but now, not nearly as much. Yet it’s not faded completely so I can’t discount the notion that the nagging could resurface someday. Mr. b was quite appalled by the possibility and just went with the idea that he’ll “say no” and that is that. I don’t know that it would be so simple.
Alongside the experience of being one of three is a more primal, genetic, animal, base desire to propagate the species, ensure the continuation of my line, immortality through my progeny. There’s a collective memory of high infant mortality and the need for more hands to help sustain the subsistence. Is that a real issue? We’re probably not going to actually have an apocalypse in my lifetime, much to Mr. b’s despair. And possibly my time in the field – where I excavated infant remains that were in the trash midden, treated with the respect of being put in a nice jar at least – colors my impression of it more than someone that has only academic knowledge of the changes modern health technology has wrought. I feel quite strongly Kirk would not have survived even a century ago. So all of this adds up to something inside me akin to the Royal saying of “an heir and a spare”.
I don’t know how I would go on if I lost one of my kids. But I especially don’t know how I would go on if I lost both of my kids. So having another one I guess would be insurance of a sick sort. But even understanding my psyche in all of this, do I really want to go through it all again? The pregnancy and the birth and the sleepless nights. I don’t know. But I’m not ready to give up the option.
I’m the oldest of three kids so there’s always going to be something in the back of my head that tells me that’s the “right” number of kids to have. When Ronnie was first born I felt very strongly that I was going to want another one. I’m not sure why but now, not nearly as much. Yet it’s not faded completely so I can’t discount the notion that the nagging could resurface someday. Mr. b was quite appalled by the possibility and just went with the idea that he’ll “say no” and that is that. I don’t know that it would be so simple.
Alongside the experience of being one of three is a more primal, genetic, animal, base desire to propagate the species, ensure the continuation of my line, immortality through my progeny. There’s a collective memory of high infant mortality and the need for more hands to help sustain the subsistence. Is that a real issue? We’re probably not going to actually have an apocalypse in my lifetime, much to Mr. b’s despair. And possibly my time in the field – where I excavated infant remains that were in the trash midden, treated with the respect of being put in a nice jar at least – colors my impression of it more than someone that has only academic knowledge of the changes modern health technology has wrought. I feel quite strongly Kirk would not have survived even a century ago. So all of this adds up to something inside me akin to the Royal saying of “an heir and a spare”.
I don’t know how I would go on if I lost one of my kids. But I especially don’t know how I would go on if I lost both of my kids. So having another one I guess would be insurance of a sick sort. But even understanding my psyche in all of this, do I really want to go through it all again? The pregnancy and the birth and the sleepless nights. I don’t know. But I’m not ready to give up the option.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Sleep Study
Sleep, or lack thereof, continues to be the subject of much consternation in our house. At first I thought I had figured it out. Mr. b was home on Thursday last week so I made Bundle a doctor’s appointment for that afternoon. Her cold has been hanging on for a couple of weeks now and I always feel better after getting confirmation that yes, indeed, it is just a cold. And yes, indeed, it is just a cold. But since her cough is so rattling and has been the key feature of said cold for a while now and her daddy has asthma, she came home with her very own personal nebulizer.
I’ve heard all about Mr. b’s visits to the emergency room as a kid. Heck, I’ve even had to take him once! (We left our own engagement party because he couldn’t breathe. Amazing how they don’t make you wait your turn then. Heh.) The nebulizers are so easy and small and portable now.
It really seemed to make a big difference. We had been holding Ronnie in the bathroom with the shower running to try to loosen up the phlegm via steam and that had helped but this was even better.
All weekend I over-thought sleep patterns for both kids. When was Kirk napping, how long, what time did he get up in the morning, when did he finally go to sleep after going to bed? When was Ronnie napping, how long, what time did she get up in the morning, when did she finally go to sleep after repeatedly not going to bed? Again, it didn’t seem to match up with what was happening at daycare. After receiving such fantastic advice, I broached the topic with C on Friday at pick-up but only for Kirk. I told her I was researching why they don’t fall asleep and that I think Kirk needs to be made to get up after 2 hours, even if he was only previously just lounging for the rest of the time listed on his nap chart. I do still think they feed off each other’s restlessness but I admit I was using that as an excuse.
It seemed to go well the first part of this week. Kirk was gone Sunday night, sleeping over with his cousins, and Veronica went to bed very easily and earlier than we’re used to. Then Monday night Kirk was wrecked from sleeping over with his cousins so he went to bed very easily and his sister wasn’t disturbed by his squirming around. But by the end of the week I don’t know that much of anything has changed.
I asked C about Bundle’s naps earlier this week, trying to find out if she’s actually asleep during the times that are listed. So the feedback I’ve been getting has been more specific, stating when she was making noise and when she was quiet. But it still seems long. And this morning C mentioned she didn’t know that Ronnie was sitting up on her own until I had set her down like that the other morning. I find that strange because she will sit up now even from crawling, and not just have to be placed that way. And maybe it’s because we have hardwood floors at home and there’s carpeting at daycare but frankly, I feel like it’s just another indicator that my poor baby isn’t getting very much attention during the day. And *that’s* what freaks me out more than anything.
So for now it seems like Miss V will either not go to bed and then when I finally get her down late, like around 11, she’ll at least sleep through the night. Or else she’ll go down fairly well but then wake up in the midnight-thirty range and come to bed with me the rest of the night. I prefer the former if I have to choose so that’s what I’m going to work on. But at this point, the daycare concerns are enough to make me root for Mr. b quitting his job and staying home with the kids even harder than I already was.
I’ve heard all about Mr. b’s visits to the emergency room as a kid. Heck, I’ve even had to take him once! (We left our own engagement party because he couldn’t breathe. Amazing how they don’t make you wait your turn then. Heh.) The nebulizers are so easy and small and portable now.
It really seemed to make a big difference. We had been holding Ronnie in the bathroom with the shower running to try to loosen up the phlegm via steam and that had helped but this was even better.
All weekend I over-thought sleep patterns for both kids. When was Kirk napping, how long, what time did he get up in the morning, when did he finally go to sleep after going to bed? When was Ronnie napping, how long, what time did she get up in the morning, when did she finally go to sleep after repeatedly not going to bed? Again, it didn’t seem to match up with what was happening at daycare. After receiving such fantastic advice, I broached the topic with C on Friday at pick-up but only for Kirk. I told her I was researching why they don’t fall asleep and that I think Kirk needs to be made to get up after 2 hours, even if he was only previously just lounging for the rest of the time listed on his nap chart. I do still think they feed off each other’s restlessness but I admit I was using that as an excuse.
It seemed to go well the first part of this week. Kirk was gone Sunday night, sleeping over with his cousins, and Veronica went to bed very easily and earlier than we’re used to. Then Monday night Kirk was wrecked from sleeping over with his cousins so he went to bed very easily and his sister wasn’t disturbed by his squirming around. But by the end of the week I don’t know that much of anything has changed.
I asked C about Bundle’s naps earlier this week, trying to find out if she’s actually asleep during the times that are listed. So the feedback I’ve been getting has been more specific, stating when she was making noise and when she was quiet. But it still seems long. And this morning C mentioned she didn’t know that Ronnie was sitting up on her own until I had set her down like that the other morning. I find that strange because she will sit up now even from crawling, and not just have to be placed that way. And maybe it’s because we have hardwood floors at home and there’s carpeting at daycare but frankly, I feel like it’s just another indicator that my poor baby isn’t getting very much attention during the day. And *that’s* what freaks me out more than anything.
So for now it seems like Miss V will either not go to bed and then when I finally get her down late, like around 11, she’ll at least sleep through the night. Or else she’ll go down fairly well but then wake up in the midnight-thirty range and come to bed with me the rest of the night. I prefer the former if I have to choose so that’s what I’m going to work on. But at this point, the daycare concerns are enough to make me root for Mr. b quitting his job and staying home with the kids even harder than I already was.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Cry Babies
Ronnie had her 6 month well baby check on Tuesday afternoon. Kirk actually came with! It was the first time Doc B had met him, though obviously he had heard all about him throughout my pregnancy. The up side of having Kirk with is that he’s excited about his next shots, because he wants to prove that he’s “so tough” and not cry during them. But of course he’ll forget all about that by the time next summer rolls around…
Young Miss V remains huge. She’s currently rated at 89% for height and 74% for weight. Kirk definitely didn’t hit those spots on the growth chart, staying around 50-50, like he is now. The girl got a mostly clean bill of health. However, I do need to go pick up a prescription for some cooter cream. She’s got something called a labial adhesion. Basically, the fine, thin skin of the inner labia has glued itself together. Doc said it’s really common and can happen to circumcised boys, too. I remember it happening with Kirk. Doc P just pulled the skin back, Kirk cried once, then it was fine. But that’s not the way to deal with it with girls apparently. She’s going to have an estrogen cream that we just need to apply once a day and the hormones will take care of it. Doc B said that she’s at the crossroads right now and it could separate on its own, especially since she’s such a kicky, kicky bundle. But it could also continue up to the urethra, potentially blocking up her pee and causing a bladder infection. Definitely don’t want that. So cream it is!
But speaking of Kirk and crying, man alive is he an emo kid these days. It’s both really sweet and really annoying. I’m glad he loves his cousins and his friends and his daycare ladies and his grandparents. It’s darling when he leaves someone and immediately says that he misses them, or when he announces that he misses someone he hasn’t seen in months. But when he starts bawling because I returned a Netflix disc? That makes me roll my eyes. I’m sure it’s just a phase, further developing emotions and whatnot. But part of me thinks this could be an actual part of his personality, too. His Daddy is sensitive. His Papa is totally sentimental. It’s not like it would come out of nowhere.
Young Miss V remains huge. She’s currently rated at 89% for height and 74% for weight. Kirk definitely didn’t hit those spots on the growth chart, staying around 50-50, like he is now. The girl got a mostly clean bill of health. However, I do need to go pick up a prescription for some cooter cream. She’s got something called a labial adhesion. Basically, the fine, thin skin of the inner labia has glued itself together. Doc said it’s really common and can happen to circumcised boys, too. I remember it happening with Kirk. Doc P just pulled the skin back, Kirk cried once, then it was fine. But that’s not the way to deal with it with girls apparently. She’s going to have an estrogen cream that we just need to apply once a day and the hormones will take care of it. Doc B said that she’s at the crossroads right now and it could separate on its own, especially since she’s such a kicky, kicky bundle. But it could also continue up to the urethra, potentially blocking up her pee and causing a bladder infection. Definitely don’t want that. So cream it is!
But speaking of Kirk and crying, man alive is he an emo kid these days. It’s both really sweet and really annoying. I’m glad he loves his cousins and his friends and his daycare ladies and his grandparents. It’s darling when he leaves someone and immediately says that he misses them, or when he announces that he misses someone he hasn’t seen in months. But when he starts bawling because I returned a Netflix disc? That makes me roll my eyes. I’m sure it’s just a phase, further developing emotions and whatnot. But part of me thinks this could be an actual part of his personality, too. His Daddy is sensitive. His Papa is totally sentimental. It’s not like it would come out of nowhere.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Latest Developments
Kirk had his Four Year Well Child Check last week. When do they start calling them annual physicals? It seemed sort of anticlimactic because he didn’t get shots. Doc P said she likes to save them up for the pre-kindergarten visit so it’s like a rite of passage. That makes sense. She was impressed with his intelligence (he was prattling on and on about dinosaur extinction) but also gave us literature on dealing with a kid that demands constant attention. Because…yeah. It’s definitely getting ridiculous with that kid. Doc was able to ease our minds on a couple of issues. Kirk often complains of a sore knee. But since there doesn’t seem to be any consistency, it’s likely just growing pains. I’ve also noticed he complains of being “so tired” or seems almost depressed at times. As long as he is easily snapped out of it, it’s just normal emotional development. So that’s a relief. We also brought Miss V with just to show her off, heh.
Sweet Bundle is back to a more normal sleep schedule finally. Having her wake up as early as 1am was getting rough, since I’m too lazy to return her to her crib. She was draining me dry before I would even get up in the morning! As I suspected, her step back was a prelude to a new trick: she’s rolling every which way now. I set her down on the floor blanket and she’s off before I even realize it. She can roll both directions and genuinely likes tummy time so she uses it as a method of locomotion more than anything. I find her under the rocking chair or under her swing, playing with furniture from below. She’s also starting to sort of side-crawl. She’ll get into half-roll position and push with her foot instead of roll over, scooting herself forward an inch. I predicted that she’ll be actually crawling in a week. Maybe that’s an underestimate but it’s going to be real soon. Quicker than her brother, that’s for sure.
Kirk’s on the last stages of night-time potty training. He was sleeping in underpants for a week or two and staying dry but after a couple of nights of peeing the bed he wanted to go back to wearing Overnights. He hasn’t been willing to try underpants again yet, even though his diaper has been dry most mornings. Mr. b has been great in producing this project. I think it’s close to his heart because he was a bedwetter into his elementary school years. I personally would have gone the lazy route and let the boy wear Overnights without thinking about it but I admit it’s been nice to give him praise and encouragement for such a Big Boy achievement.
Veronica likes carrots. Or else she just has no choice because when her daddy feeds her he means business. HA! I hadn’t made it to the grocery store yet last weekend so just pureed up a bunch of carrots for her. They’re not as silky smooth as purchased baby food but like I said, she seems to like them. We’ve also been mixing a little bit of apple juice into her rice cereal on occasion for a couple of weeks now. Which means that Ronnie officially eats three food groups!
Sweet Bundle is back to a more normal sleep schedule finally. Having her wake up as early as 1am was getting rough, since I’m too lazy to return her to her crib. She was draining me dry before I would even get up in the morning! As I suspected, her step back was a prelude to a new trick: she’s rolling every which way now. I set her down on the floor blanket and she’s off before I even realize it. She can roll both directions and genuinely likes tummy time so she uses it as a method of locomotion more than anything. I find her under the rocking chair or under her swing, playing with furniture from below. She’s also starting to sort of side-crawl. She’ll get into half-roll position and push with her foot instead of roll over, scooting herself forward an inch. I predicted that she’ll be actually crawling in a week. Maybe that’s an underestimate but it’s going to be real soon. Quicker than her brother, that’s for sure.
Kirk’s on the last stages of night-time potty training. He was sleeping in underpants for a week or two and staying dry but after a couple of nights of peeing the bed he wanted to go back to wearing Overnights. He hasn’t been willing to try underpants again yet, even though his diaper has been dry most mornings. Mr. b has been great in producing this project. I think it’s close to his heart because he was a bedwetter into his elementary school years. I personally would have gone the lazy route and let the boy wear Overnights without thinking about it but I admit it’s been nice to give him praise and encouragement for such a Big Boy achievement.
Veronica likes carrots. Or else she just has no choice because when her daddy feeds her he means business. HA! I hadn’t made it to the grocery store yet last weekend so just pureed up a bunch of carrots for her. They’re not as silky smooth as purchased baby food but like I said, she seems to like them. We’ve also been mixing a little bit of apple juice into her rice cereal on occasion for a couple of weeks now. Which means that Ronnie officially eats three food groups!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Eye Boogers
Ronnie had her first non-weight check or well baby related doctor’s visit yesterday. She woke up with her right eye crusted shut. It had been sort of boogery/mucusy on and off for the previous two days but never really that bad. She hasn’t had a fever or any other signs of sickness, other than a slight cough, so I hadn’t been worried about her. But even though having your eye that crusty is a pretty legitimate reason to go in to the doctor, I still wondered if I was just being an alarmist parent.
Doc didn’t seem to think I brought her in unnecessarily. He prescribed some eye drops, which I suck at administering. Babies have such immature sinuses that mucus can only really escape through the tear ducts and that in turn can cause an eye infection. I’m just glad that her first sickness is an easy one.
Doc didn’t seem to think I brought her in unnecessarily. He prescribed some eye drops, which I suck at administering. Babies have such immature sinuses that mucus can only really escape through the tear ducts and that in turn can cause an eye infection. I’m just glad that her first sickness is an easy one.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
The End of an Era
Well, it’s over now. I’m nearing the end of Day Two back at work.
Last Friday Bundle had her Two Month well baby appointment. Everything looks good. She’s now at 10 pounds 3 ounces (over 4 pounds gained!) and 23 inches long (nearly 5 inches!) and has a little head (in the tenth percentile). Doc reiterated that he thinks her sporadic pooping is just her own preference. He asked lots of questions about it and thinks it sounds normal, though not common. Her belly button sticks out super far and that’s due to a small hernia; again normal and should heal itself without any intervention from us. She got her first shots, complete with Real Tears, and that’s about it. Oh, and she does seem like being a redhead is a real possibility. Especially in the sunlight there is definite auburn hair going on.
Grandma and Grandpa stayed with us until Sunday before flying back to Texas. It seemed like little Ronnie underwent an emotional growth while they were here: she smiles for real now! I love that part. Nothing like an infant’s genuine pleasure. I love it when she’s suckling away and then suddenly grins on the boob. But it also means that she’s moving into the part where she doesn’t think it exists if she can’t see it and so separation anxiety begins. Which makes my going back to work even harder.
Drop off yesterday morning went well. Of course she didn’t know what was coming. C said she ate well and didn’t need the breast milk I had sent with as comfort food just in case. So I’ll be freezing the milk I pump during the day at work. So far I’m pumping twice a day and getting quite a lot. I have a little picture of my bundle on the pump case and a snippet of her fussing saved on my phone so I can trigger the mental impulses to start the milk flowing. I should bring some of her used laundry to smell, too, but that seems like work. But even with the pressure relieved mechanically, I was still desperate for her to get back on the breast as soon as we got home. Mr. b and Kirk were heading to the store and after looking at us nursing on the couch just chuckled and said, “You two have fun.” Still, it took some time before she seemed like “mine” again. She just didn’t look at me the same way when I picked her up in the afternoon.
To just get it all over with at once I’ve also begun crib training. Well, not precisely. I don’t want to disturb her brother’s sleep in their room so instead it’s technically bassinet training. Same method we used with Kirk though: put the Bundle in her bundle bin rolled into our darkened bedroom, let her cry for X number of minutes, go in and comfort her, put her back down, wait for a longer period, go back in, and so on. It only took a few tries and then she slept soundly for a good solid four hours. She’s been a very noisy sleeper all along and prone to only sleeping on the boob or resting on one of our chests so I think this is a great first try. Hopefully when she’s too big for the bin she’ll already be used to sleeping by herself and the transition to the crib will be relatively easy.
I do feel kind of like I’m betraying her trust though. Leaving her with a stranger all day and then not even holding her all night. But hey, I still keep her in bed with me once she wakes up to nurse. Now that we’ve got the laying down position figured out good enough it’s easier to just roll over and switch her from side to side as she wants more boobie. And she was in a good mood this morning, even falling asleep on the “lengthy” five block drive to daycare, so I guess she’ll forgive me eventually. One day at a time.
Last Friday Bundle had her Two Month well baby appointment. Everything looks good. She’s now at 10 pounds 3 ounces (over 4 pounds gained!) and 23 inches long (nearly 5 inches!) and has a little head (in the tenth percentile). Doc reiterated that he thinks her sporadic pooping is just her own preference. He asked lots of questions about it and thinks it sounds normal, though not common. Her belly button sticks out super far and that’s due to a small hernia; again normal and should heal itself without any intervention from us. She got her first shots, complete with Real Tears, and that’s about it. Oh, and she does seem like being a redhead is a real possibility. Especially in the sunlight there is definite auburn hair going on.
Grandma and Grandpa stayed with us until Sunday before flying back to Texas. It seemed like little Ronnie underwent an emotional growth while they were here: she smiles for real now! I love that part. Nothing like an infant’s genuine pleasure. I love it when she’s suckling away and then suddenly grins on the boob. But it also means that she’s moving into the part where she doesn’t think it exists if she can’t see it and so separation anxiety begins. Which makes my going back to work even harder.
Drop off yesterday morning went well. Of course she didn’t know what was coming. C said she ate well and didn’t need the breast milk I had sent with as comfort food just in case. So I’ll be freezing the milk I pump during the day at work. So far I’m pumping twice a day and getting quite a lot. I have a little picture of my bundle on the pump case and a snippet of her fussing saved on my phone so I can trigger the mental impulses to start the milk flowing. I should bring some of her used laundry to smell, too, but that seems like work. But even with the pressure relieved mechanically, I was still desperate for her to get back on the breast as soon as we got home. Mr. b and Kirk were heading to the store and after looking at us nursing on the couch just chuckled and said, “You two have fun.” Still, it took some time before she seemed like “mine” again. She just didn’t look at me the same way when I picked her up in the afternoon.
To just get it all over with at once I’ve also begun crib training. Well, not precisely. I don’t want to disturb her brother’s sleep in their room so instead it’s technically bassinet training. Same method we used with Kirk though: put the Bundle in her bundle bin rolled into our darkened bedroom, let her cry for X number of minutes, go in and comfort her, put her back down, wait for a longer period, go back in, and so on. It only took a few tries and then she slept soundly for a good solid four hours. She’s been a very noisy sleeper all along and prone to only sleeping on the boob or resting on one of our chests so I think this is a great first try. Hopefully when she’s too big for the bin she’ll already be used to sleeping by herself and the transition to the crib will be relatively easy.
I do feel kind of like I’m betraying her trust though. Leaving her with a stranger all day and then not even holding her all night. But hey, I still keep her in bed with me once she wakes up to nurse. Now that we’ve got the laying down position figured out good enough it’s easier to just roll over and switch her from side to side as she wants more boobie. And she was in a good mood this morning, even falling asleep on the “lengthy” five block drive to daycare, so I guess she’ll forgive me eventually. One day at a time.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Child Garden
Friday morning we took Kirk in for his Kindergarten pre-screening testing. It's required by the state of Minnesota for all children attending public schools. There were three parts to the screening: mental development, physical development, and bureaucracy.
We had a lot of paperwork to fill out, some of it immediately identified by Mr. b as remnants of the "progressive" programs instituted by New Dealers. Then we all went in to meet with the first of three ladies. She had Kirk build small towers of blocks, do some counting, pick the correct opposites, match shapes, do simple drawing, things like that. As a parent it was incredibly difficult to keep my mouth shut. I wanted to nudge him in the right direction, give him hints, or simply laugh at his hilarious attempts or failures. There were several instances where he got something wrong that he knows perfectly well how to do. But I suppose having the patience to go through this process is part of the whole "readiness" idea.
Next we went to get his eyes checked. That seemed silly to me since obviously Kirk wears glasses. He wasn't interested in their old school vision chart and the lack of friendliness on the part of the woman administering this portion of the exam certainly didn't help. We gave up on that and tried to do the hearing test. But she accidentally stepped on Kirk's foot and he cried and cried and cried and we gave up on that, too. I have two forms for medical professionals to fill out now. He's got his eye check-up next week but the hearing one will have to wait for his next physical in July. I remember doing all these tests in elementary school and really enjoying the hearing one especially. Mr. b says he remembers them, too.
Lastly we met with a lady to review all the results. Kirk's age bracket, 3.8-3.9 years, needed to score an 18 out of 48 on the mental stuff. He got a 32. So no worries there. Basically, everything is on track and there are no areas of concern. We found out which elementary school he'll attend - and that he'll ride the bus - and that's about it. It was an interesting process and definitely a milestone. It's hard to believe I'll have a "school aged" child soon but he'll start Kindergarten next year!
We had a lot of paperwork to fill out, some of it immediately identified by Mr. b as remnants of the "progressive" programs instituted by New Dealers. Then we all went in to meet with the first of three ladies. She had Kirk build small towers of blocks, do some counting, pick the correct opposites, match shapes, do simple drawing, things like that. As a parent it was incredibly difficult to keep my mouth shut. I wanted to nudge him in the right direction, give him hints, or simply laugh at his hilarious attempts or failures. There were several instances where he got something wrong that he knows perfectly well how to do. But I suppose having the patience to go through this process is part of the whole "readiness" idea.
Next we went to get his eyes checked. That seemed silly to me since obviously Kirk wears glasses. He wasn't interested in their old school vision chart and the lack of friendliness on the part of the woman administering this portion of the exam certainly didn't help. We gave up on that and tried to do the hearing test. But she accidentally stepped on Kirk's foot and he cried and cried and cried and we gave up on that, too. I have two forms for medical professionals to fill out now. He's got his eye check-up next week but the hearing one will have to wait for his next physical in July. I remember doing all these tests in elementary school and really enjoying the hearing one especially. Mr. b says he remembers them, too.
Lastly we met with a lady to review all the results. Kirk's age bracket, 3.8-3.9 years, needed to score an 18 out of 48 on the mental stuff. He got a 32. So no worries there. Basically, everything is on track and there are no areas of concern. We found out which elementary school he'll attend - and that he'll ride the bus - and that's about it. It was an interesting process and definitely a milestone. It's hard to believe I'll have a "school aged" child soon but he'll start Kindergarten next year!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Yay Poop!
Tonight Bundle finally pooped. It had been six days. A couple of weeks ago she stopped going several times a day - or even every day. After three days she had a major blow out and things have been irregular ever since. This was the longest wait, however, and I had actually called the doctor earlier this week. We were advised to mix in one ounce of prune juice with three ounces of formula or milk, once a day. It totally looked like cappucino. Thankfully it only took two of them. If she hadn't pooped by today I would have had to call Doc back.
I have no idea what caused this though. I've heard the theory that the baby is growing and using up every last bit of caloric energy and therefore not having anything to excrete. That seemed reasonable to me when it was just once. My dad loves telling the story of me being constipated as an infant and "popping like a cork". But that doesn't really match Ronnie's issue. I think we're going to be doomed to repeat nqllisi's experience with her daughter: a month of repeated poo strikes and prune juice treatments. I'll ask Doc for his insight at her two month appointment next week. And...I guess we'll just have to see what tomorrow's diaper holds.
I have no idea what caused this though. I've heard the theory that the baby is growing and using up every last bit of caloric energy and therefore not having anything to excrete. That seemed reasonable to me when it was just once. My dad loves telling the story of me being constipated as an infant and "popping like a cork". But that doesn't really match Ronnie's issue. I think we're going to be doomed to repeat nqllisi's experience with her daughter: a month of repeated poo strikes and prune juice treatments. I'll ask Doc for his insight at her two month appointment next week. And...I guess we'll just have to see what tomorrow's diaper holds.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Recovery
Well, now I can go back to work. I don't want to but I have my doctor's OK. How the hell did I afford such a long leave with Kirk?
My post-partum check-up went smoothly. Everything's healing as it should be. I guess there are still some stitches that haven't fully dissolved but they're the inner most ones. I'm pretty sure I tore during delivery - 5 minutes of pushing goes extremely fast and I don't remember them making me pause for an episiotomy like last time. I noticed that Doc was referring to some notes in my file throughout my visit and I finally got a glimpse: it was a summary from the on-call doctor at the maternity ward! I don't know that I even said a single word to her. Doc showed up about 10 minutes after Ronnie was born and while he checked her over, basically all he did was congratulate Mr. b and I and shake our hands.
Since we're absolutely determined not to have an "oops" I definitely wanted to get on birth control right away. Supposedly nursing is about 90% effective, at least until your first period. And the no estrogen mini pill is also about 90% (and won't dry up your milk supply), but combined the two are as good as the regular pill. Doc said I should give the pill a couple of weeks to get into my system and double up on contraception until then. As much as we'd like to get back to normal marital relations, Mr. b and I are both a bit hesitant. I don't remember how long after Kirk's birth we waited.
It seems I had gained a total of 15 pounds from the time of my first ob visit until my final one. And now I'm officially 16 pounds less than that final weigh in. Doc was worried that such rapid weight loss might mean I was too busy taking care of the kids first and forgetting about myself. I assured him I'm eatin' like an eatin' fool. I actually need to make sure I don't go overboard with that. I gained weight after Kirk's birth because while I was nursing some, I wasn't nursing much. But I was ingesting enough calories for full time milk production. I suppose for the moment (the barnacle is attached to my boob as I type this one-handed) I don't really need to be concerned. Everything will change when I go back to work.
My post-partum check-up went smoothly. Everything's healing as it should be. I guess there are still some stitches that haven't fully dissolved but they're the inner most ones. I'm pretty sure I tore during delivery - 5 minutes of pushing goes extremely fast and I don't remember them making me pause for an episiotomy like last time. I noticed that Doc was referring to some notes in my file throughout my visit and I finally got a glimpse: it was a summary from the on-call doctor at the maternity ward! I don't know that I even said a single word to her. Doc showed up about 10 minutes after Ronnie was born and while he checked her over, basically all he did was congratulate Mr. b and I and shake our hands.
Since we're absolutely determined not to have an "oops" I definitely wanted to get on birth control right away. Supposedly nursing is about 90% effective, at least until your first period. And the no estrogen mini pill is also about 90% (and won't dry up your milk supply), but combined the two are as good as the regular pill. Doc said I should give the pill a couple of weeks to get into my system and double up on contraception until then. As much as we'd like to get back to normal marital relations, Mr. b and I are both a bit hesitant. I don't remember how long after Kirk's birth we waited.
It seems I had gained a total of 15 pounds from the time of my first ob visit until my final one. And now I'm officially 16 pounds less than that final weigh in. Doc was worried that such rapid weight loss might mean I was too busy taking care of the kids first and forgetting about myself. I assured him I'm eatin' like an eatin' fool. I actually need to make sure I don't go overboard with that. I gained weight after Kirk's birth because while I was nursing some, I wasn't nursing much. But I was ingesting enough calories for full time milk production. I suppose for the moment (the barnacle is attached to my boob as I type this one-handed) I don't really need to be concerned. Everything will change when I go back to work.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Sleep, Eat, Poop
The biggest difference between Ronnie and Kirk so far is that she's nursing. Kirk was nearly a pound smaller and just didn't have the sucking reflex down at all. Plus since he was in the Level II nursery for a week I never got a chance to really spend time figuring it out with him. It was all about measurable amounts of fluid, breast milk or formula, to get him to gain weight. So it was kind of weird to have Ronnie in the hospital room with me and to be released before the full 48 hours were even up.
However, she's still small so jaundice is a very real issue. She's definitely yellowish in her face and halfway down her chest. Her extremities remain pink. But she's eating well and has been pooping the real breast fed baby poop instead of just the newborn meconium so the bilirubin is definitely being expunged. Just not as fast as we might like.
The homecare nurse came to check us out on Wednesday and found that Ronnie had dropped down to 5 pounds 8 ounces. She was down to 5lb 11oz when we left the hospital, and a weight drop is completely normal, but this was only 1 ounce off from the 10% birth weight benchmark. So the nurse suggested we bump up our first well baby visit to Thursday instead of next week. Ronnie was back up to 5lb 10oz at the clinic but who knows if that's because she had just eaten and she was totally hungry the day before. Either way, her weight is looking good and she's already grown a half inch in height. The doc wanted to have her blood checked though and get a bilirubin count. Since she was on the edge of intermediate and high levels, we took her in again this morning for the same blood work. This time it dropped, only very slightly, but at least it didn't go up. Jaundice apparently peaks on day 4 or 5 after birth so again, that all lines up. Doc decided that she should be fine over the weekend and doesn't need to have any UV treatment. At least it would have been an at-home option (they have some kind of a psychedelic light blanket now) so it's not like we would have had to take her in or anything. He'll check her out again on Monday.
Basically the weekend plan is lots of boobie milk and laying in patches of sunshine whenever possible. Nursing is very sweet but man alive do my nipples take a beating. Ronnie hasn't settled into any kind of feeding pattern yet so it's pretty much every 2 hours no matter what. She's gone as long as 4 hours between sessions but then she's also had at least one cluster feeding every day where she wants to eat about every 30 minutes for a good 2 to 3 hours. Those seem to be happening in the middle of the night so I need to start going to bed earlier just to combat that insanity. We'll figure it out. Strangely, all the trouble I had with Kirk is benefitting me now. I already knew about various techniques for latching her on, breaking the seal, getting her to swallow, and on and on. Only this time I can put that knowledge to use. I'll start pumping next week and then Mr. b can take some of the feedings. He's been awesome, changing all the diapers and doing nearly all of the Kirk care. But I know he wishes he could do more.
However, she's still small so jaundice is a very real issue. She's definitely yellowish in her face and halfway down her chest. Her extremities remain pink. But she's eating well and has been pooping the real breast fed baby poop instead of just the newborn meconium so the bilirubin is definitely being expunged. Just not as fast as we might like.
The homecare nurse came to check us out on Wednesday and found that Ronnie had dropped down to 5 pounds 8 ounces. She was down to 5lb 11oz when we left the hospital, and a weight drop is completely normal, but this was only 1 ounce off from the 10% birth weight benchmark. So the nurse suggested we bump up our first well baby visit to Thursday instead of next week. Ronnie was back up to 5lb 10oz at the clinic but who knows if that's because she had just eaten and she was totally hungry the day before. Either way, her weight is looking good and she's already grown a half inch in height. The doc wanted to have her blood checked though and get a bilirubin count. Since she was on the edge of intermediate and high levels, we took her in again this morning for the same blood work. This time it dropped, only very slightly, but at least it didn't go up. Jaundice apparently peaks on day 4 or 5 after birth so again, that all lines up. Doc decided that she should be fine over the weekend and doesn't need to have any UV treatment. At least it would have been an at-home option (they have some kind of a psychedelic light blanket now) so it's not like we would have had to take her in or anything. He'll check her out again on Monday.
Basically the weekend plan is lots of boobie milk and laying in patches of sunshine whenever possible. Nursing is very sweet but man alive do my nipples take a beating. Ronnie hasn't settled into any kind of feeding pattern yet so it's pretty much every 2 hours no matter what. She's gone as long as 4 hours between sessions but then she's also had at least one cluster feeding every day where she wants to eat about every 30 minutes for a good 2 to 3 hours. Those seem to be happening in the middle of the night so I need to start going to bed earlier just to combat that insanity. We'll figure it out. Strangely, all the trouble I had with Kirk is benefitting me now. I already knew about various techniques for latching her on, breaking the seal, getting her to swallow, and on and on. Only this time I can put that knowledge to use. I'll start pumping next week and then Mr. b can take some of the feedings. He's been awesome, changing all the diapers and doing nearly all of the Kirk care. But I know he wishes he could do more.
Monday, March 02, 2009
...Signifying Nothing
Nada. That’s how much more I’ve dilated since my last appointment. I must admit, I was pretty shocked. But New Doc explained that even though I’ve been having lots of contractions, they’re not steady enough or big enough to do much of anything. That makes sense but it sure doesn’t make me any less uncomfortable.
My extreme hunger has caused me to gain another three pounds, too.
The most interesting part of my visit this morning was all the checks that New Doc did to ensure that everything is on track and that the baby is safe and healthy. I made Mr. b go with me, just in case I got sent to the hospital, because I thought that I had leaked a tiny bit of amniotic fluid yesterday morning. It was certainly different than the usual discharge I’ve been used to seeing by this point. A few years back a friend started leaking when she was around 34 weeks but the baby’s head effectively blocked the leak and her water didn’t fully break so I knew that was a possibility. So first New Doc got out his little portable ultrasound and checked to make sure there were still lots of visible pockets of fluid. Check. Then he used a sterile, plastic speculum to take a look and visually confirm there were no leaks. Check. Then he used a litmus paper to check the pH of the vaginal sample and confirm it wasn’t fluid. Check. (Vag stuff is acid and amniotic fluid is basic. Chemistry is neat.)
So I continue to wait. And grin and bear it when the contractions come, knowing that nothing’s actually happening. I made my 37 week and 38 week appointments just now. We’ll see if I make it to either of them.
My extreme hunger has caused me to gain another three pounds, too.
The most interesting part of my visit this morning was all the checks that New Doc did to ensure that everything is on track and that the baby is safe and healthy. I made Mr. b go with me, just in case I got sent to the hospital, because I thought that I had leaked a tiny bit of amniotic fluid yesterday morning. It was certainly different than the usual discharge I’ve been used to seeing by this point. A few years back a friend started leaking when she was around 34 weeks but the baby’s head effectively blocked the leak and her water didn’t fully break so I knew that was a possibility. So first New Doc got out his little portable ultrasound and checked to make sure there were still lots of visible pockets of fluid. Check. Then he used a sterile, plastic speculum to take a look and visually confirm there were no leaks. Check. Then he used a litmus paper to check the pH of the vaginal sample and confirm it wasn’t fluid. Check. (Vag stuff is acid and amniotic fluid is basic. Chemistry is neat.)
So I continue to wait. And grin and bear it when the contractions come, knowing that nothing’s actually happening. I made my 37 week and 38 week appointments just now. We’ll see if I make it to either of them.
Friday, February 20, 2009
The End is Nigh?
Yesterday morning was my latest ob check-up. I’m at 34 and a half weeks and am already 2cm dilated. Now, New Doc made sure to mention that it’s really quite common for a non-first timer to be that dilated already but he’s also finally fully onboard the this-baby’s-comin’-early train. That’s the whole reason he did the internal exam in the first place. After talking through all the usual stuff (weight gain 1 pound, belly measures 35cm, baby heartbeat normal, blah blah blah) he decided that we’d better go ahead and do the Strep B test. I never had it last time so it was all new to me. Hell, I’ve never had my cervix checked when I wasn’t in labor so that was a new one, too!
New Doc explained how they measure the centimeters by the size of their finger tips. That actually made sense to me. When I used to work in the field we all knew the length of our stride so we could easily count off the correct number of paces for 10 meters. You just need that initial baseline and then go with it. But what freaked me out a little was when he said that he could actually feel the head through my cervix. Whoa. So does that mean she’s dropped? Not sure the actual definition of “dropping”. My hips are sore pretty much all the time so obviously my pelvis is spreading. I can feel a strange sort of pressure on my labia that must be from everything above starting to come downward. I didn’t pay much attention to these kinds of details last time because, well, I wasn’t expecting to have a baby a month ahead of schedule!
Upon New Doc’s request, I actually rescheduled my next appointment for earlier in the week. Since Sunday is my day for the week count to reset, having the 36 week one on Thursday would put me at 36 weeks and 4 days. Well, I had Kirk at 36 weeks and 5 days. So. Now it’s set for Monday instead. We’ll see if I actually make it or not. Ideally it would be good to make it over that 37 week line but I’m finding that less and less likely.
The Braxton Hicks have started to come more frequently. They used to be at night only and now show up whenever the hell they feel like it. There’s no pattern still but the intensity has certainly increased. It’s often a much sharper feeling, verging just on the edge of pain, instead of the general sort of squeezing tightness they’ve been causing previously. And sometimes they definitely last longer than just for a brief moment. On top of that, my first trimester constipation issues have returned with a vengeance. Only now that I know I’m already dilated, I’m sort of paranoid that pushing out a turd will be bad for the baby! Plus the poo cramps mix in with the BH and make my entire abdominal region just a festive mélange of uncomfortable annoyances. Oh and the back aches. Let’s not forget those. General pregnancy posture issues? Precursor to back labor? Who knows. But I totally have old man back and I grunt and sigh when standing. It’s kind of ridiculous.
Mr. b’s workmates have started a baby pool. I’ve been trying to make sure all my work items are squared away. What I really need to do is buy some frickin’ Dreft and wash the few non-spit-up stained, non-gender specific items I pulled out of Kirk’s old bin and the adorable prezzies sent by last year’s Best Original Screenplay Academy Award Winner so they’re ready to go. Everything else we’ll figure out as it’s needed.
New Doc explained how they measure the centimeters by the size of their finger tips. That actually made sense to me. When I used to work in the field we all knew the length of our stride so we could easily count off the correct number of paces for 10 meters. You just need that initial baseline and then go with it. But what freaked me out a little was when he said that he could actually feel the head through my cervix. Whoa. So does that mean she’s dropped? Not sure the actual definition of “dropping”. My hips are sore pretty much all the time so obviously my pelvis is spreading. I can feel a strange sort of pressure on my labia that must be from everything above starting to come downward. I didn’t pay much attention to these kinds of details last time because, well, I wasn’t expecting to have a baby a month ahead of schedule!
Upon New Doc’s request, I actually rescheduled my next appointment for earlier in the week. Since Sunday is my day for the week count to reset, having the 36 week one on Thursday would put me at 36 weeks and 4 days. Well, I had Kirk at 36 weeks and 5 days. So. Now it’s set for Monday instead. We’ll see if I actually make it or not. Ideally it would be good to make it over that 37 week line but I’m finding that less and less likely.
The Braxton Hicks have started to come more frequently. They used to be at night only and now show up whenever the hell they feel like it. There’s no pattern still but the intensity has certainly increased. It’s often a much sharper feeling, verging just on the edge of pain, instead of the general sort of squeezing tightness they’ve been causing previously. And sometimes they definitely last longer than just for a brief moment. On top of that, my first trimester constipation issues have returned with a vengeance. Only now that I know I’m already dilated, I’m sort of paranoid that pushing out a turd will be bad for the baby! Plus the poo cramps mix in with the BH and make my entire abdominal region just a festive mélange of uncomfortable annoyances. Oh and the back aches. Let’s not forget those. General pregnancy posture issues? Precursor to back labor? Who knows. But I totally have old man back and I grunt and sigh when standing. It’s kind of ridiculous.
Mr. b’s workmates have started a baby pool. I’ve been trying to make sure all my work items are squared away. What I really need to do is buy some frickin’ Dreft and wash the few non-spit-up stained, non-gender specific items I pulled out of Kirk’s old bin and the adorable prezzies sent by last year’s Best Original Screenplay Academy Award Winner so they’re ready to go. Everything else we’ll figure out as it’s needed.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Perception
We picked Kirk up from daycare last night and told him we were going to go straight to the glasses store. He sincerely, and with a great deal of concern, asked, "Do I have to put poop in the potty to get my glasses?" He was overjoyed to learn that no, he does not have to put poop in the potty to get his glasses. Heh.
They had a great selection of cool kid frames at the one-hour place at the mall. Referencing a photo of David Tennant's Tenth Doctor, Kirk's only requirement was that they were black.
The biggest challenge is going to be getting Kirk to look through the glasses. He wears them down on his nose and looks over the top. We've been reminding him non-stop to push them up. I've been trying to explain that he needs to look through them in order to help his eyes see things close by. I honestly don't think he's seeing that much of a revelatory difference in his vision so far. It's not like he's in school and needing help focusing on his homework or reading assignments! Mr. b pointed out that he does look at books that we read to him and watch DVDs on the little portable player and paint pictures and that's all close to his face but it's not the same as focusing on schoolwork. I did notice tonight that he was rubbing his weaker eye so I just have to cross my fingers and hope that it's already being forced to work harder.
All this glasses talk has caused me to think through our immediate family members and catalogue who wears and glasses and when they got them. My brother was in elementary school, possibly fifth grade or so. I don't remember when my sister got hers but I think it was about the same time. They both have relatively weak prescriptions though. My mom's out of town so I haven't asked her but my vague memory is that she also was closer to junior high when she got her first specs. My dad didn't need anything until recently and that's just your standard age-related reading glasses. Mr. b's brother, like him, doesn't need corrective lenses. His aunt, however, started wearing them sometime in K-2 and has needed them ever since. She even apologized for her part in passing along bad genes! The smoking gun, so to speak, would seem to be her brother, my father-in-law. Mr. b's dad had a lazy eye when he was little and needed serious coke bottles. That's exactly what would happen to Kirk's slight cross eye if it went untreated! My FIL apparently stopped wearing them in high school at some point - he certainly didn't wear them in Nam - but started again in his late 30s and is now almost completely blind in one eye. I do wonder if it's the same eye that was lazy as a kid and if that lengthy hiatus from glasses had anything to do with it.
I think the hardest part for both Mr. b and I is the realization that Kirk is never going to look the same. When he first tried on his frames at the store we sort of had a collective heartbreaking moment, knowing that this is our son now. He's a glasses kid. It's momentous and a milestone and amazing. His sister will literally never know him looking any other way. He will always have had glasses in her memory. Sure, he won't wear them constantly and someday he'll likely demand contacts or laser surgery or whatever but by then we'll instead be used to him with glasses on his face. It's just going to take some adjustment time. It's a cognitive leap or something.
They had a great selection of cool kid frames at the one-hour place at the mall. Referencing a photo of David Tennant's Tenth Doctor, Kirk's only requirement was that they were black.
The biggest challenge is going to be getting Kirk to look through the glasses. He wears them down on his nose and looks over the top. We've been reminding him non-stop to push them up. I've been trying to explain that he needs to look through them in order to help his eyes see things close by. I honestly don't think he's seeing that much of a revelatory difference in his vision so far. It's not like he's in school and needing help focusing on his homework or reading assignments! Mr. b pointed out that he does look at books that we read to him and watch DVDs on the little portable player and paint pictures and that's all close to his face but it's not the same as focusing on schoolwork. I did notice tonight that he was rubbing his weaker eye so I just have to cross my fingers and hope that it's already being forced to work harder.
All this glasses talk has caused me to think through our immediate family members and catalogue who wears and glasses and when they got them. My brother was in elementary school, possibly fifth grade or so. I don't remember when my sister got hers but I think it was about the same time. They both have relatively weak prescriptions though. My mom's out of town so I haven't asked her but my vague memory is that she also was closer to junior high when she got her first specs. My dad didn't need anything until recently and that's just your standard age-related reading glasses. Mr. b's brother, like him, doesn't need corrective lenses. His aunt, however, started wearing them sometime in K-2 and has needed them ever since. She even apologized for her part in passing along bad genes! The smoking gun, so to speak, would seem to be her brother, my father-in-law. Mr. b's dad had a lazy eye when he was little and needed serious coke bottles. That's exactly what would happen to Kirk's slight cross eye if it went untreated! My FIL apparently stopped wearing them in high school at some point - he certainly didn't wear them in Nam - but started again in his late 30s and is now almost completely blind in one eye. I do wonder if it's the same eye that was lazy as a kid and if that lengthy hiatus from glasses had anything to do with it.
I think the hardest part for both Mr. b and I is the realization that Kirk is never going to look the same. When he first tried on his frames at the store we sort of had a collective heartbreaking moment, knowing that this is our son now. He's a glasses kid. It's momentous and a milestone and amazing. His sister will literally never know him looking any other way. He will always have had glasses in her memory. Sure, he won't wear them constantly and someday he'll likely demand contacts or laser surgery or whatever but by then we'll instead be used to him with glasses on his face. It's just going to take some adjustment time. It's a cognitive leap or something.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Hindsight?
So. Kirk needs glasses.
This morning I took Kirk in to the eye doctor. Doc had suggested that we go have him checked out, oh, about a year ago and it finally happened. He was such a good boy. He was really kind of freaked out about it but brought with his little felt kitty puppet he made at daycare a while back because it was loosing its eye and needed to see the eye doctor, too. The nurse ran him through a bunch of tests. Instead of a regular chart he got to identify pictures of things like a hand, a bird, a tractor, and a cake. He was having fun and she was absolutely awesome with him. Then came the “magic raindrops”. He did not like those. I didn’t realize they were going to dilate his pupils so the entire appointment took about three times longer than I was mentally prepared for.
After playing in the lobby for a half hour we went back in. Kirk was complaining about how his eyes were “weird” and I assured him they would go back to normal. I’ve only had my eyes dilated once but yeah, it was weird all right. It’s sort of funny to see a kid with giant acid-trip pupils! The nurse checked out his eyes with a series of lenses and then eventually the doctor himself came in. Kirk was fabulous. He was so calm and well behaved while the doctor used all his lights and lenses and various other doodads and “doctor tools”. I was unbelievably proud of my son.
And then I got the verdict: he’s farsighted. He’s got a common little kid thing called strabismus that usually develops around age 2 or 3 and doesn’t necessarily have to be genetic. In fact, one of the factors is low birth weight. Well, he certainly had that. The doctor didn’t think that the plagiocephaly, or flattened skull, had anything to do with its development. The problem is, if the glasses don’t help to strengthen his weaker right eye, then he’ll have to have an eye patch. Great. But at least now we know. It explains why the one eye sometimes seemed to be turned inward, but not always.
Tonight we’re going to get Kirk’s glasses prescription filled. This is all brand new territory for both Mr. b and I. Neither of us have ever had anything other than perfect vision. But we’ll become experts fast enough since it sounds more likely that Kirk will need lenses for life, rather than eventually grow out of it. It could happen but it would be years from now. So we’re going to make sure he knows how special he is. Good thing he’s already a big Doctor Who fan – he’s going to get his very own brainy specs! I’m sure we’ll see kids in cartoons wearing glasses everywhere once he’s got them but at the moment only Clark Kent is coming to mind. Mr. b asked Kirk’s godfather to come by wearing his own glasses and taunt us for not being cool enough to get to wear them. I also suggested we let Kirk pick out someplace for us to go to dinner tonight to celebrate picking out his new frames. I’m assuming that’ll mean either the Taco Rice Restaurant or the Spaghetti Restaurant. (Which is a win for Preggo Mommy as well!) And then we’ll have a new thing to fight about when we have to make sure that he actually does wear the suckers every day, all day. Because in two months we have to go back and have a muscle check. Hopefully we won’t also need to pick out pirate role models to convince him that patches are the coolest.
This morning I took Kirk in to the eye doctor. Doc had suggested that we go have him checked out, oh, about a year ago and it finally happened. He was such a good boy. He was really kind of freaked out about it but brought with his little felt kitty puppet he made at daycare a while back because it was loosing its eye and needed to see the eye doctor, too. The nurse ran him through a bunch of tests. Instead of a regular chart he got to identify pictures of things like a hand, a bird, a tractor, and a cake. He was having fun and she was absolutely awesome with him. Then came the “magic raindrops”. He did not like those. I didn’t realize they were going to dilate his pupils so the entire appointment took about three times longer than I was mentally prepared for.
After playing in the lobby for a half hour we went back in. Kirk was complaining about how his eyes were “weird” and I assured him they would go back to normal. I’ve only had my eyes dilated once but yeah, it was weird all right. It’s sort of funny to see a kid with giant acid-trip pupils! The nurse checked out his eyes with a series of lenses and then eventually the doctor himself came in. Kirk was fabulous. He was so calm and well behaved while the doctor used all his lights and lenses and various other doodads and “doctor tools”. I was unbelievably proud of my son.
And then I got the verdict: he’s farsighted. He’s got a common little kid thing called strabismus that usually develops around age 2 or 3 and doesn’t necessarily have to be genetic. In fact, one of the factors is low birth weight. Well, he certainly had that. The doctor didn’t think that the plagiocephaly, or flattened skull, had anything to do with its development. The problem is, if the glasses don’t help to strengthen his weaker right eye, then he’ll have to have an eye patch. Great. But at least now we know. It explains why the one eye sometimes seemed to be turned inward, but not always.
Tonight we’re going to get Kirk’s glasses prescription filled. This is all brand new territory for both Mr. b and I. Neither of us have ever had anything other than perfect vision. But we’ll become experts fast enough since it sounds more likely that Kirk will need lenses for life, rather than eventually grow out of it. It could happen but it would be years from now. So we’re going to make sure he knows how special he is. Good thing he’s already a big Doctor Who fan – he’s going to get his very own brainy specs! I’m sure we’ll see kids in cartoons wearing glasses everywhere once he’s got them but at the moment only Clark Kent is coming to mind. Mr. b asked Kirk’s godfather to come by wearing his own glasses and taunt us for not being cool enough to get to wear them. I also suggested we let Kirk pick out someplace for us to go to dinner tonight to celebrate picking out his new frames. I’m assuming that’ll mean either the Taco Rice Restaurant or the Spaghetti Restaurant. (Which is a win for Preggo Mommy as well!) And then we’ll have a new thing to fight about when we have to make sure that he actually does wear the suckers every day, all day. Because in two months we have to go back and have a muscle check. Hopefully we won’t also need to pick out pirate role models to convince him that patches are the coolest.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Worst. Night. Ever.
Last night I got up with Kirk at around 2:40. That's pretty common. He frequently ends up with a wet bed because those damn pull-ups just seem to leak all the time. The problem this time? I couldn't fall back to sleep. And it wasn't regular insomnia. I started having nasty cramps.
My first thought, of course, was to freak out about the baby. How many weeks am I? I can never remember. It's somewhere around 24 I think. Definitely not far enough for a premature birth. But then the nature of the cramping didn't fit with the actual early labor pains that I experienced last time. This was more violent. Could it be food poisoning? I had been out to dinner with some girlfriends earlier that night. Still, it wasn't until the puking started that I finally eradicated the notion of it being gestationally related.
Two and a half hours later I was finally able to head back to bed. The chills and the hot flashes and the issues at both ends all made me wonder the whole time if this was somehow bad for the baby. The little girl, however, was extremely active during the entire ordeal. That was a comfort, if you can call anything comforting while going through that. I guess she thought it was a party in my tummy.
My first thought, of course, was to freak out about the baby. How many weeks am I? I can never remember. It's somewhere around 24 I think. Definitely not far enough for a premature birth. But then the nature of the cramping didn't fit with the actual early labor pains that I experienced last time. This was more violent. Could it be food poisoning? I had been out to dinner with some girlfriends earlier that night. Still, it wasn't until the puking started that I finally eradicated the notion of it being gestationally related.
Two and a half hours later I was finally able to head back to bed. The chills and the hot flashes and the issues at both ends all made me wonder the whole time if this was somehow bad for the baby. The little girl, however, was extremely active during the entire ordeal. That was a comfort, if you can call anything comforting while going through that. I guess she thought it was a party in my tummy.
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