siblings

I once read a quote to the effect that the best gift you can give your child is a sibling.  There's something about having another person in your life who grew up in the same house with the same parents in the same way that you did, neither of you knowing any different.  I know for myself, I talk to my sister on a near-daily basis.  And when my niece wrote to me that she was only going to have two kids tops (unlike her mother, who has FOUR kids), I wrote back that come Thanksgiving and Christmas, when they are all grown up with kids of their own, she'll love the chaos of family.  She really will.  Britton has done exceedingly well adjusting to her baby brother's crash into our lives.  She is so proud of being a big sister, and she remarks multiple times a day that she is a great big sister - we've talked her up, huh?  

I'm not a pessimist, but my expectations for this adjustment were quite low.  Honestly, the adjustment for the hubs and I to go from married couple to married with a child was so shocking, so altering, that I readily expected us to have a deer-in-the-headlights look for the next three months.  But adding another child is not nearly as hard as adding a first child, and I think we've done quite well juggling this new arrangement, and I think that influences Britton.  She doesn't see us freak out, so she doesn't freak out.  

Britton keeps telling me all the things she's going to teach her brother - how to swing, go down a slide, swim, do ballet, get dressed - all things she can do herself.  I can't wait to see her try.  She's even offered to share her Winnie, which makes my hormonal heart get all weepy.  I know it's only been two weeks, but we're doing well.  We're doing better than expected.  And for that, I'm grateful.

ballerina girl

As an aside, let me just tell you what - Britton loves the pink Power Ranger.  No, she's never seen the television show, never even heard the words "Power Rangers" uttered in our house, but it turns out that some boy in her class talks about the Power Rangers nonstop.  So Britton decided she wanted to be the pink Power Ranger and, in her words, "put bad guys in the trash can."  A little online search later (Halloween costumes are ridiculously cheap when it's not Halloween!) we had our costume.  And it just happened to show up a day before Britton's dance recital.  I just had to share!

Britton has been in a ballet/tap/gymnastics class since January.  In February we were alerted that there would be a recital on May 19th.  Yes, one week after my due date.  The hubs and I hemmed and hawed about if Britton would even want to participate, but we decided to just go forward with it.  I paid the recital fee, bought the over-priced costume, bought the now-required white tap shoes AND ballet shoes, and then found out there was a mandatory dress rehearsal.  A mandatory dress rehearsal being held TEN DAYS after giving birth.

So, the hubs and I got sneaky.  Or lazy, depending on how you look at it.  But dang it all, we're living under that "waking up every two to three hours" fog over here.  We told Britton her dress rehearsal was the recital.  The reason is twofold.  First, we weren't sure she'd even participate so there was no point in making her go through it twice if she wasn't going to get on stage and dance.  Second, she wouldn't know the difference.  

We showed up on Friday afternoon, costume on and ready to go, and Britton completely surprised us.  This girl, who most Saturday mornings didn't want to go to dance class, was excited about getting on stage!  And when she did get up there, she knew the whole dance!  The hubs and I were so proud of her, and we couldn't take our eyes off of her up there.  She had a great time, which is really the point when it comes to a kid's activities.  

We lucked out - Britton had a great time, Barrett slept peacefully through the entire rehearsal, and everyone left in a good celebratory mood!  The hubs and I are not going to push our luck by trying to do it all again tomorrow. 

happy mother's day

We decided to celebrate Mother's Day a day late because Britton wasn't coming home from Memaw and PawPaw's house until then.  When we took Barrett to the pediatrician on Friday for his check-up, his bilirubin levels were too high, so we had to put him on a blue light blanket and supplement with formula all weekend.  Since we were going to have to be next to an electrical outlet for the next 48 hours straight, Memaw offered to take Britton to her house.  That way Britton could have fun and the hubs and I could deal with keeping Barrett under the blue light blanket continuously.

Last week I got an email that Britton's school had a special present for moms on Friday.  So Friday morning I dropped Britton off at school, and her class had made Mother's Day gifts - necklaces!  She was so proud of her necklace and did a great job.

She also made me this flower.  By the time I got back to the car, I was bawling my eyes out.  Birth hormones plus lack of sleep equals me doing my ugly cry in the school parking lot.

Today, the hubs gave me a Yankee Candle ("Pink Sands" - love the smell!) and a picture frame for the baby's picture.  And we celebrated with a pink strawberry cake, because when I tell Britton we're having a party she assumes there will be cake!  My first Mother's Day as a mom of TWO.

Add:  I just had to include this.  After I had written this post, Britton came up to me, out of nowhere, and said, "I'm glad you're my mommy."  I hugged her ridiculously close as I said, "I'm glad your my Britton."  And then I pretended that I had something in my eye when in all reality I was crying like a baby.  It doesn't get sweeter than that.  

baby deuce: introducing barrett robert

It all begin at 4:30 am Tuesday morning, May 7th, when the hubs and I arrived at the hospital.  Turns out four women had shown up in labor in the previous twenty minutes, so my induction was pretty low on the staff's agenda for that morning!  We finally got a room but had to wait on the pitocin drip because a doctor had to oversee it, and doctors were becoming scarce around there.  At 6:30 am, I was finally on the drip and ready to see some action - I was already two centimeters dilated!  

Unfortunately, I was still two centimeters when they checked me at 11:00 am.  I finally got to three centimeters and figured I might as well get my epidural so I could get a nap in.  At 2:00 pm I was still three centimeters, and at 3:00 pm I called Jessica to tell her I missed her 2:56 pm birth time guess.  She warned me that my labor was about to progress quickly, and boy was she right!  They checked me then and I was six centimeters!  Not even a half hour later my epidural started wearing off and I could feel the baby moving down.  I was overwhelmed with the need to push and told the nurse to get the doctor. When the doctor and physician's assistant arrived, they peaked down and saw the baby's head - I was ready to get to business with pushing!

See, we all knew this was going to be a big baby.  I looked at the P.A. resident (her second day on the job, by the way) and reminded her I didn't want a c-section or an episiotomy, made a scissor motion with my fingers, and shook my head "no" at her.  Just so we were all on the same page.  I was pushing hard, really hard, and the P.A. Paul stood on a stool pushing down on my stomach.  I wasn't even aware of it, but the hubs told me later.   Turned out the baby's left shoulder was getting stuck and Paul unstuck him (causing a few tears to my urethra, but heck I'll take that over a stuck shoulder any day!).  Not twelve minutes after I started pushing, I felt this huge relief and Barrett Robert was born at 4:19 pm!   He has a big goose egg bump on his head and his face received some tough bruising, both of which are contributing to his raging jaundice now.

We were stuck equally between Barrett and Jack for a name, and in the end we just let Britton pick it out.  She picked Barrett and we went with it!  Robert is for my dad.

The hubs followed him over to the warmer while my doctor finished me up.  We were all waiting to see the weight.  He weighed 10 pounds, 10 ounces!  Seriously, I can't even make that up!  And to top it all off, he was 23 inches long.  No wonder the nursery nicknamed him "The Toddler" and my nurses accused him of walking out on his own.  His feet are so long that the ink prints of his footprints cover the wording on the birth certificate.

First meeting

Memaw and PawPaw brought Britton to the hospital so they could all meet Barrett.  We were getting moved to the postpartum room, and we met them up there.  I convinced our nurse to "lose" my chart for 5 minutes so they could see the baby, and she finally agreed!  Britton was really excited to meet her brother, and she was so shy at first.  She didn't know what to think about this baby right in front of her. But she was so proud of being a big sister, and it just melted my heart to see her pride and excitement.

We stayed for two days, two very long days.  By Thursday morning the hubs and I were ornery to get home already.  We missed Britton and our own bed!  Turned out 13 other babies were being discharged on the same day, so we had to wait our turn.  Here is Barrett doing his best Mike Holmes impression, blonde eyebrows and all.

At 10 pounds, 10 ounces, none of his newborn-sized clothes will ever fit!

When we got home we had beautiful flowers from Jessica and her family waiting for us!  Both my work and the hubs' work sent flowers too.  And Cammy sent new clothes for Britton, and she loved being included in the gift-gifting!  In the hospital we gave Britton three new books about ballet and being a big sister, and she wants all three read every night still.

And our neighborhood HOA put up a stork in our front yard!

baby deuce: shenanigans aplenty

Turns out, having your second baby doesn't mean a whole lot in terms of knowing more, so we're all up the creek around here.  Every day I have strong contractions for two hours, then they stop.  Right on cue.  But Sunday night, during "Game of Thrones" and one intense storyline, I had contractions ten minutes apart for two hours. Then instead of stopping, they started out being seven minutes apart.  I called my doctor and she had us come to the hospital.

And then, at sometime after midnight, after I get into the awful gown and lay on the uncomfortable bed, my contractions stop.  Just like that.  We were sent home at 1:30 am.

And at 5:00 am, I get up to pee.  Except, my bed is wet.  Like, really wet and my legs are wet and my water has broken.  So I put a towel on the bed and go back to sleep because I don't want to deal with this at 5:00 am.  When I wake up at a more decent hour, the doctor again tells us to go back to the hospital.  And I'm embarrassed because dangitall we were JUST THERE and I better not be wrong about this water breaking thing or else I'm going to look like a moron.

Tests show there's no amniotic fluid.  The doctor's best guess is that a baby that was over 9 pounds a week ago laid on my bladder and I peed the bed.  I'm mortified.  Seriously, my doctor is trying to make it better ("It happens all the time!" and "You wouldn't believe how weak bladder muscles get!") and I can't get past this amateur hour we've entered.  We never dealt with any of this with Britton - with her, my water broke, I went to the hospital, they hooked me up with pitocin and an epidural, and I had her 10 hours later.  If Britton was my easy baby, we're screwed!

The only child for only one more day...

Induction tomorrow at 4:30 am......

45 months old

Testing, 1, 2, 3, testing.  That is the theme this month!  Britton, three going on thirteen, has decided to test the hubs and I with everything from hitting to independence to how far she can go with demands.  I've dealt with more than my fair share of fits thrown because Britton doesn't understand why she can't go on a walk by herself.  Ugh.

Luckily, though, Britton has been good about becoming an older sister.  She is excited about her baby brother, and tells me that she is going to change his diaper, feed him a bottle, put him in her bed, and make him laugh. I do remind her that babies aren't much fun in the beginning, but she'd prefer I don't rain on her parade.  

Britton's class has been discussing feelings this month, so she has become more vocal about her feelings.  For instance, she tells me when she's sad or if a friend hurt her feelings or what makes her happy.  We're working on keeping the feeling words out there.  School is going great - her class just planted trees for Earth Day and she brought a spruce tree home to plant.  Between that and the fairy garden, I'm going to make a gardening partner out of her yet!  

Likes:  yogurt, Eat N Park Smiley cookies, Barbie movies (ugh), the pink Power Ranger (she's never seen the show - a boy at her school gets them all to act out Power Rangers), running, playing her guitar

Dislikes:  not being allowed to do things she thinks she can do but I know are not safe, the tap part of dance class, sneakers not being tight enough

baby deuce: eviction notice

I noticed on Sunday night that I had four new stretch marks, two on each side. This filled me with instant dread - not a thing to do about vanity, since my stomach is already covered in stretch marks of pregnancy past, but dread that this baby is now bigger than my 8 pound, 4 ounce last one.  I had an ultrasound on Tuesday and the baby is measuring 9 pounds, 3 ounces. 

The doctor stripped my membranes, and nothing has happened.  I went on walks, I stepped on curbs, I got on all fours and swayed my hips - really anything that the internet said would move things along.  Eating seven pineapples is out because I don't want to end up in a diabetic coma.  I can't stomach the idea of spicy food, since I get heartburn from water now. 

My doctor won't induce before 39 weeks, which for me happens to fall on a Saturday. My doctor also won't schedule an induction for the weekend, since it cuts into their weekend plans and all.  So the soonest I could get in was Monday.  Just yesterday, my Monday induction got bumped to Tuesday to make room for an elective c-section.  If they move me from 5:00 am Tuesday morning, I will lose my mind because I'm already having blinding fear attacks of delivering a 9 pound, 3 ounce baby, let alone a baby who A WEEK AGO was 9 pounds, 3 ounces and now could weigh significantly more. The nurse suggests that I go into labor on my own, as if it's as easy as pushing my belly button.  I'm right on top of that, Rose!

Today is my last day of work, since I normally work 9 hour days and get every other Friday off.  Tomorrow happens to be my Friday off.  And you know what I plan on doing?  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  I'm going to lay in my empty-for-now house and do a whole lot of nothing and enjoy the calm before the storm and eat McDonald's and not check my blood sugar because I am a rebel like that.  Maybe I'll eat a spicy chicken sandwich or go on a long walk, or maybe I'll just give up on trying to induce this stubborn and lazy baby boy and wait it out until Tuesday!  Please, God, just don't be 9 pounds, 3 ounces!