The Fish Pond

Apparently I Was Getting Too Much Sleep

because I have bronchitis.  Got my antibiotic today, after calling in the in-laws to watch the monsters, who have alternately had diarrhea, croup, and some sort of much more mild respiratory stuff than me, and so they have been home from school and the babysitter.

At least the green snot I'm dealing with is my own.

In the Twilight Zone

You know those moments when something happens that's so out of kilter with what you know to be true that you can't quite figure out where you are and what is going on?

Today someone commented on how well behaved my children are.  I actually looked behind me before I realized she was talking to me.  About MY children.

Coulda knocked me over with a hair.  They do have their moments, I guess.

Exhausting, but Never Dull

Today Trout stayed home from school sick.  We all have a mild, low grade cold that just makes you a little sick but doesn't interfere with energy level (except in me, since I have no energy anyway).  It has been crazy around here all day.

In the time it took for me to talk to BigDaddyFish on the phone about what he wanted for dinner (about 5 minutes), Sunny finger-painted the couch with Chunky Monkey Ice Cream.

I changed 12 poopy diapers today, and the day is not yet over.  I only went to the bathroom myself three times.

I asked Trout this morning if I could trust her - I wanted to see if I could send her down to get her breakfast and bring it back to her room without getting distracted by her siblings.  She asked me "About what?" several times in response, and then asked "Can you trust me about really being sick?"  Which of course made me (correctly) certain she wasn't.  I made her stay in her room all day, and do her entire homework packet for the week in the evening.

I got the cover to the bouncy seat washed yesterday, and today Little Man and I put new batteries in the thing and got the cover on.  Nemo was in it a grand total of 4 minutes before he puked all over the thing.  With no one immediately around, so I am certain no one bounced him too hard in it.  Thus he got a bath and we learned an important lesson about making sure there is a spit rag in the bouncy seat under Nemo, since I don't really want to wash the thing every day.

BDF fixed the dishwasher last night (the handle had broken and it was impossible for anyone but him to open it), so I wanted to run some dishes today so I don't get too far behind.  Nemo screamed for about, oh, 5 minutes straight, and that was all I could stand, so I put him in the Bjorn and carried him.  I have incredibly short arms, so with him in the carrier, I did this weird sort of dance to stand sideways to rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher without squishing or soaking him.  Plus he puked down my shirt.

Sunny took her diaper off when she was poopy again.  At least I caught her quickly before she decided to finger paint with that.

Trout tried to cut a Rubbermaid tub open with safety scissors.  It wasn't working, so she asked me why it wouldn't work.  I'm afraid I just stared at her and blinked for a second, then asked her why she was trying it in the first place.  I wish I had a user's manual for her brain.

Thank God she and Little Man are both going back to school tomorrow.  I missed having my day off.  I'm going to go sleep for as long as Nemo will let me.

The little shits.  I love them to pieces.

100th Post

In honor of my 100th post, here are 100 things about me:

1. My favorite color is blue.
2. I am a zodiac weirdo, with a birthday on the cusp of cancer/leo.
3. I have a birthmark under my left arm.
4. I converted to Catholicism when I was 19.
5. By the time I was 23, I had stopped practicing.
6. I started again when Little Man was born.
7. Being at home drives me crazy most of the time, but it is the right thing for our family at this time.
8. That doesn't make it any easier to actually do it.
9. I am a slob.  I hate to clean.
10. I start hobbies and never stick with them, but instead just end up collecting all the crap to do them with.
11. I love to read.
12. Consequently, I have an English degree.
13. I finished my 5 year teaching degree in four years.
14. While working over 30 hours a week for most of it.
15. I have a 2-year associates degree, and I lived at home while earning it.
16. I transfered to a 4-year school to finish my English/teaching degree, and drove home almost every weekend to work.
17. I was a Camp Fire Girl.
18. I took ballet for 10 years.
19. I always took care of my toys because I wanted them to keep looking like they just came out of the box.
20. I just said "No firing cannons at the computer."
21. The comment my parents received most about me growing up was "Fishy is not working up to her potential."
22. I got detention only once in my life.
23. For yelling at the guy who sat behind me for pulling my hair.
24. In seventh grade math class.
25. His name was Kenny Campbell.
26. He went on to play the bagpipes.
27. Really well.
28. I can play clarinet and saxophone.
29. Averagely.  Which isn't a word.
30. I cannot for the life of me make a sound come out of a flute.
31. I hate the recorder.  I cannot make myself think of it as an actual instrument.
32. Little Man has a blue recorder.
33. My favorite food is pasta.
34. I miss my mom more now that I have kids than I ever did the first 10 years after her death.
35. I think Sunny looks just like her, with lighter hair.
36. I hate shopping for clothes because nothing ever fits me quite right.
37. I have never broken a bone.
38. I have gone ice skating in a car.  I don't recommend it.
39. In the ensuing accident, the sliding part was actually kinda fun.
40. The abrupt stop at the end wasn't.
41. I had back spasms for a week and could barely move.
42. My first job was in a children's shoe store.
43. I once fit shoes for a child who was being nursed by his/her mother.
44. It grossed me out.
45. Frankly, despite my feelings about breastfeeding, that same thing would probably gross me out today - just stop feeding the kid if it's time to get the shoes.
46. The kid was over 2 years old.
47. I was in marching band.
48. I had a few paid playing gigs in college and for a few years after.
49. I met my husband because his best friend played in one of those paying gigs with me.
50. I dated the friend first.
51. Somehow the friend doesn't hate us for that.  I don't quite understand this, but we are grateful.
52. He reads this website.
53. I love Christmas music.
54. I hate that my husband doesn't like the holidays.
55. Any of them.
56. I tend to be a "skin of the teeth" "seat of my pants" kinda girl.
57. That said, I am rather risk averse.
58. I hate flying.
59. Petrified of it.  Really.
60. Was before 9-11.
61. Still am now, but I get more understanding about it.
62. I am glad that my father lives several states away right now.
63. He will be coming back in a month.  I am not glad about that.
64. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
65. I would make a great lawyer, I think, and I would like it, but I don't want to go to law school.
66. I am lonely a lot of the time.
67. I don't like many members of my family.  If we weren't related, we wouldn't be friends.
68. I love the Sierra Mist Cranberry Splash flavor that is out now for the holidays.
69. NASCAR is my guilty pleasure.
70. My favorite driver is Mark Martin.
71. I love having fresh cut flowers around.
72. I am a terrible gardener - a total black thumb.
73. I rarely have flowers around because I can't justify the expense of buying them.
74. I am sometimes jealous that my husband makes the kind of money he does without having finished his degree when I busted my ass to finish mine quickly and it will never be a big money earner.
75. If I had a million dollars I'd buy a 6 bedroom house near my husband's job and a brand new minivan and save the rest for college expenses.
76. Right now I have a favorite among my kids.
77. I won't say who it is.  I hope none of them ever figure out who it is.
78. I feel terrible about this.
79. I was the favorite among the grandchildren in my family growing up and I hated it.
80. I try my hardest to treat my kids equally.
81. I know I fail sometimes.
82. I think I'm a rotten mother most of the time.
83. I let my kids watch too much tv and I don't do enough activities with them.
84. I lack the patience.
85. Plus I find it boring.
86. But I don't find the kids boring.
87. On the contrary, there's never a dull moment around here.
88. I do read to them, a lot, and I am proud that they all love books.
89. I'd like to claim credit for that, but think it's probably just their natures.
90. I like to go camping, but I hate the bug bites I always get.
91. I can't have any caffeine due to my heart condition, and I miss having coffee.  (decaf still has too much caffeine)
92. My husband had longer hair than I did when we got married.
93. My hair was down to the middle of my back.
94. I miss his long hair - it was sexy.
95. I was a metal head in high school.
96. I was deaf for 2 days after seeing AC/DC in concert.
97. I lost my virginity when I was 13.  Voluntarily.  Just to get it over with.
98. That was much too young.
99. I pray every day that my kids don't repeat that mistake.
100. Despite the complaints, I recognize I have a damn good life, and I'm grateful.

So there you have it - more and less than you ever wanted to know.  100 posts later, I'm still just as boring as ever.

That Explains Why My Back Hurts

Nemo had his 2 week checkup today.  He has reflux and is puking A LOT, and he doesn't sleep much at any given time - he is up pretty much every two hours all night long, and it takes an hour to take care of all the changing, feeding, and cleanup after puking.  So, after being pronounced perfectly healthy despite the reflux, he weighs in at

9 lbs. 8 oz.  He weighed 7lbs 10 oz. at birth, so he has surpassed his birthweight by almost 2 pounds.  To put this into perspective in this house, Trout had barely gained back her birth weight, Little Man hadn't (but he had been in the NICU for 15 days and wasn't fed for a few days except through a tube), and Sunny had gained not quite a whole pound beyond her birth weight.  So for now we won't be medicating his reflux unless it starts making him unhappy.

A big boy for sure.  We are proud, if tired and achy.  No wonder I'm still bleeding.

This is SOO TMI, But I Need Help

Okay, so Nemo is 2 weeks 3 days old.  This was my fourth c-section, and I had a tubal this time.  The doctor had to do a bit of renovation in there, like putting an ovary back where it belongs and putting my abdominal muscles back in the front of my abdomen rather than being split and off to the sides.  I have been in a lot of pain and things have been feeling different than my previous 3 sections.  Here's the TMI part (guys or those with queasy stomachs, read no further).

I bled the normal course for the first two weeks - bright red, then watery red, then darker red, and then I stopped bleeding for the last 3 days, just some yellowish/brownish discharge.  The normal course of things - this I went through with the other 3.  However, tonight I felt like I was starting a period and sure enough, I am bleeding again, darker red blood, about the amount of a moderate period.  I also have pain, kinda like stinging.  I am concerned because I have never had bleeding start again after stopping.  I wonder about infection, but I don't have a fever or anything, and I'm not overly fatigued for the amount of sleep I have been getting (or not, as the case may be).

Is this due to the tubal?  Reconstruction?  Infection?  Is this because of Advanced Maternal Age (ahem)?  Anyone ever experience this?  This is worrying me, and I don't want to call the doctor at night on a Saturday because they'll just send me to the hospital, but I don't want to ignore it if it is something serious.  Any experienced moms have any ideas?

Ordinary Miracles

I am alive and relatively well.

I have four beautiful children.

I have a faithful husband who works hard to support us.  He has a good job.

We have a roof over our heads.

We have more than enough to eat.

We have family and friends who drive us crazy, who we drive crazy, and who love us anyway.  And we love them, too.

I have this blog, and it gives me some semblance of sanity. 

For all these things and more, I am thankful.  May God bless you all this Thanksgiving.

I Musta Pissed Someone Off Somewhere

Nemo has either reflux or colic, I'm not sure which yet.  We've had reflux in the house before, but managed to escape colic thus far.  We've had both varieties of reflux - the "Great I just puked now feed me again dammit" variety courtesy of Trout, and we've had "OMG this fucking hurts woman fix it fix it NOW!" variety courtesy of Sunny.  Right now, we are working on a hybrid "OMG this fucking hurts and I want you to feed me now to fix it fix it!!!!!"

Thus, we are sleep deprived.

Trout is mutinous because she wants my attention and I can't give her as much as I did before.  Morning routine is .... um..... challenging.  Anyone know of good military schools?

Today I am on my own, as DH had to go back to work.  I am still sore due to the reconstruction and lifting anything is .... um..... challenging. 

Remember that dark place?  Yeah.  I'm there.

I'm not sure if I can do this.

At Long Last, Guppy's (Nemo's) Birth Story

I was using Guppy for this little guy, but it really doesn't fit him, and I decided I didn't like it much, so I changed it to Nemo, which does fit him. It really is a bit of a boring birth story, but here are the sordid details.

On Tuesday afternoon I went in to the doctor for my regularly scheduled old-fart's test, or biophysical profile. Since I've been doing these things for weeks now, the tech has gotten to know me a bit, and she asked how I was doing as we walked down the hall for the required bathroom visit before she started pushing on my belly with the ultrasound probe. I told her I was “done.” Ready. That I had been hoping for some sort of sign from God, like my water breaking in dramatic fashion or an excruciating contraction; something to indicate that It. Was. Time. I was tired of all the contractions that weren't doing a damn thing, and just wanted it to be over with. I had planned to talk to Dr. G about delivering on Saturday, the 11th, since I knew his hospital schedule and very much wanted him to deliver this baby – he had delivered Trout and Little Man, but not Sunny, and some annoying mistakes were made when Sunny was delivered, and I knew he would fix them for me – like put my right ovary back where it belonged. They usually don't do schedules on the weekend, but given the history with Little Man, I didn't want to deliver too soon this time, and Dr. G is the kind of doctor who bends over backwards for his patients; I was pretty sure he would say yes. Otherwise, we would have to wait until the 17th, a full 5 days after my due date, and I really felt like that would be too long (Sunny was that late, too, but her placenta had started to break down by that point, and I worried about the risk of that, too, because I'm like that and just don't have enough to worry about).

So, anyway, we go into the ultrasound room, and suddenly the tech says “Fishy! Your fluid's low!” Since we had just had the conversation about the sign from God, I thought at first that she was kidding me. “No, really?” I said. Yup. It was low, but the baby looked just fine, big and moving and “breathing” and everything he was supposed to do. So then I went in to see Dr. G.

We talked about delivery times and how I was feeling. Dr. G is probably the best doctor I've ever encountered – the perfect blend of technical precision and know how and bedside manner all in one. He always makes you feel like you are his only patient; you never feel rushed or moved along, despite the fact that he talks a mile a minute the whole time he is with you. He noted the fluid, too, and said I had two choices – he could deliver on Saturday, but I would have to come back every day to have the fluid checked and if it got critical I had to be prepared to deliver right away, OR he could just move his schedule around for Wednesday and go ahead and do it then. I knew his schedule was booked, but he said “Let's see.” He had me sit in his office while he made a bunch of phone calls; he moved his own schedule around to fit me in for my c-section the following morning.

I skedaddled over to the hospital to do my pre-op blood work to help move things along in the morning, and called BigDaddyFish with the news. We were both basket cases. This would put our delivery at 39 weeks 3 days, and Little Man was delivered at 39 weeks 2 days. We were really terrified of having another NICU baby, but we trust Dr. G, so we knew he wouldn't do it now if it wasn't necessary. We attempted to distract ourselves by watching the amusing treatment of the Maryland election returns, with various networks calling the elections both ways with only 19% of precincts reporting and watching them say “Martin O'Malley has won the election!” with their own numbers showing Bob Erlich ahead at that time. This got old pretty quickly, and we went to bed, only to be up at 4 because we couldn't sleep.

We got to the hospital at about 7:30 am, right on time. We tend to be late to everything, so I had told BDF we had to be there at 7 am; it is a good thing, too, because it was raining, and even at 6 am, when we left, there was a bunch of traffic, and BDF was under hospital orders to eat first, so we had to get him some breakfast. Of course, I hadn't eaten since midnight, nor could I have anything to eat or drink until well after the surgery. Oh, well, wasn't the first time. They whisked us right back to prep for the surgery – we found out Dr. G wanted to try and go a bit early, so they were in a big rush to try and get my fluid into me so we could go. I need to have at least 2 bags of fluid prior to my anesthesia because my BP crashed after the first c-section with Trout. We got those in, got my antibiotics in (I have a slightly leaky heart valve) and were taken right in.

I have a terrible fear about anesthesiologists. I tend to, well, hate them. I am convinced they are going to kill me. I am only 4'10” tall, and I tend to be more sensitive to medications than I should be, given what my weight is, and if I get an anesthesiologist who believes me when I tell them that, I am fine, but most doctors I've encountered have a bit of a God complex and they never believe me. This time, the anesthesiologist came in and told me that he wasn't the anesthesiologist who would be doing the surgery, but he was running late, so this Anes. #1 was doing the consult and would get us started and the Anes. #2 would catch up to us. Anes. #1 mentioned my height and mentioned that I am difficult to dose, and they would do their best not to overdose me, but I “needed to know” it was a possibility. Believe it or not, this actually made me a little more comfortable, in part because he brought it up and I didn't have to, and also because it showed he was aware of the problem and would do his best to mitigate it. I was really nervous at this point, because the hospital had changed policies since Sunny's birth and wouldn't let BDF into the room while I was getting my spinal, and I am terrified of “dying alone” (yes, I know I wouldn't be alone, but I would be without MY people). It actually worked out okay. The PA came by to talk to me, too, and I recognized him from one of my previous births; it turns out he is one of the hospital's oldest employees, so it was nice to see another familiar face. It helped me relax a bit.

We went into the OR, and as usual it was freezing. They got me up on the table, and Anes. #1 started to get everything set up for the surgery. Dr. G came in and scrubbed up, the nurses set everything up, and they made the call to “PEDS” to come attend the birth. Just then Anes. #2 came in. I was a little disappointed, because Anes. #1 was very, very nice and I liked him, and had hoped the other doctor wouldn't make it, but Anes. #2 turned out to be very nice, too. Anes. #1 stayed behind, though. He held my hand and talked me through the spinal going in, which is a really good thing because they had to (don't read anymore if you get queasy easily or are a first time mom) STICK. ME. THREE. TIMES. To get the spinal in. The first time, I said “Ouch!” and they asked where it hurt – it went straight through my right hip and down my right leg. Then they moved a bit but I guess they didn't like where it was, so it took a third time to get it in. This was the worst part.

They laid me down, got me all prepped up, and put the drape up so I couldn't see, and then had BDF come in. Now, with the other 3 births he watched the surgeries, but since the hospital changed policies, he wasn't allowed to stand up anymore and look over the drape. However, Dr. G knows BDF is fine and isn't going to pass out from watching, so my drape was kinda off to the side, so BDF was able to watch everything around the side, anyway. It was really weird – I could feel the first cuts and clamping, but nothing hurt – it was more like when you get novacaine at the dentist, just a tingly pushing sort of feeling. A couple of minutes later, Nemo was out, and screaming his head off, sounding super healthy in the lung department. I cried and cried and cried. He was checked out and brought over to BDF to hold where I could see him and touch him, so I had something to distract me while they finished up the surgery, which took a long time comparatively speaking. Dr. G made some comment about my uterus looking really good and me being able to do this “ten more times, if you want” and I said that's okay, shut it down. He did a bunch of stuff; it was taking a long time, and he made another comment about “giving you a six-pack down here now, and cleaning up the old scar tissue.” I wasn't sure exactly what that was about at the time, but it sounded good to me. It was the best of my surgeries. Dr. G is the best.

He told me later that my abdominal muscles were completely split off to the sides – I had no muscle in the front at all, so he put them back, and basically “tidied up the place.” He also did the tubal, and put my right ovary back where it belonged. If my current soreness is any indication, it was an extensive amount of work. He also removed all of the old scar tissue and cleaned up the scar for me, so it actually doesn't look too bad. This time they used sutures instead of staples, and they tilted the table so I was kind of sitting up, so obviously I didn't have any issues with my blood pressure this time. They put Nemo between my legs, and we went to recovery.

I had wanted to nurse Nemo right away, but for some reason they didn't want to let me – I think it was all the shaking I was doing, so they took him off to the nursery pretty quickly, and BDF went with him while the nurses took care of me in recovery. I went through 8 of those wonderful warmed blankets before I finally warmed up. The anesthesia wore off pretty quickly, and within 2 hours I was taken to my room.

BDF brought Nemo to me shortly thereafter, and he immediately nursed like a champ. It only took 2 days for my milk to come in. We were in the hospital for 3 days, coming home on Saturday. He tends to nurse all night long, so we aren't getting much sleep, which is a huge contributing factor in me dropping him. He still doesn't seem to be suffering any ill effects from it, though. The other kids just love him – we have to watch Sunny carefully so that she doesn't love him to death. So now we adjust – I am still pretty sore, so it will be a while before I am back to “normal” but we are figuring this out.  He is adorable, with a squishy little face, and he is so tiny, and I am absolutely smitten.  It took me a while to fall in love with my other kids, but not this time - I am head over heels for this little guy.  Of course, check with me in a few weeks when I still haven't slept and postpartum depression is setting in, and maybe I'll feel differently, or maybe not.  But for now, we are in love, and I am happy.

And BDF is doing a lot of laundry.

I Must Have Broken a Record for How Quickly My Own Stupidity Kicked In

First things first, E.W.J.(Guppy) was born Wednesday, Nov. 8 at 9:47 am, in a scheduled c-section surgery.  He was 7 lbs. 10 oz., my smallest baby, and he is 20 inches long.  He has a full head of fuzzy black hair, and looks just like his daddy.  He and I both did fine with the surgery.  I will post his birth story in a couple of days, when I get a chance to type it out.

We came home on Saturday, with BigDaddyFish, all three big siblings, and my FIL in attendance.  That, too, is its own story.

But first, I must confess to something:  It took me being home only slightly more than 24 hours for me to drop my newborn son ON. HIS. HEAD.

Yup.  The kid wasn't a week old before his first ER trip.  The doctor did a bunch of extra work inside after the c-section to put my insides back where they belong, and it has left me drained and unbelievably sore.  Despite that, due to other health issues, I can't take anything stronger than Tylenol for pain, so I have been verging on delirium.  Also, Guppy nurses constantly, and I hadn't had more than about 2 hours of sleep since coming home.  Monday morning at about 5 am, I woke with a start as I felt my son slide out of my arms, and he landed in a crumpled heap on the floor of my bedroom.  I LEAPED out of bed and had him picked up in about a nanosecond (keep in mind I can't really walk up the stairs by myself) and was screaming my head off and crying.  He only made a token protest and then went back to sleep.  BigDaddyFish jumped up immediately, too (think about his sleep issues here) and we checked Guppy out together.  Now, in the few days I've gotten to know my son, I've learned that he hates being uncovered or undressed, but not much else bugs him.  So, after a "What the hell just happened?" squawk, he realized he wasn't uncovered, so he went back to sleep.  I wanted him to be screaming his head off so I knew he was okay, but he wasn't, so we got all the other kids up and trooped off to the ER.  He had a CT scan, and a thorough neurological exam, and was pronounced perfect.  I got to hear about all the times all the mothers there dropped their kids on their heads (it seems this is fairly common), and I was ordered to sleep while they took care of the baby.  In response to "Chief Complaint" on their admit form, I wrote "Mother is a Moron."

He is fine.  He was later checked again by the pediatrician, and not only deemed perfect, he had already gained back more than half of what he lost from his birth weight.  We got lucky: the bed is high off the ground (he fell more than 3 feet), but the floor is carpeted with 1" padding underneath.  He could have hit his head on either my bedside table or the stool I have to use right now to get in and out of bed, but he landed squarely in the SIX INCHES in between the two.  The good Lord was looking out for us then, that's for sure.

And now, the phobia about the edge of the bed that I haven't had since I convinced myself as a teenager that gremlins were NOT coming out from under the bed to eat my toes while I sleep is back with a vengeance.

This mother of four stuff is hard.