My daughter was just diagnosed with RSV. I’m waiting for the doctor to tell me whether I need to take her to the hospital or not. If she doesn’t call within the next 15 minutes, I’m taking her anyway.
I’m so scared for my baby girl.
Category Archives: Parenthood
Smack down
For the past 5 months, the Milk of my Tits has been the sole source of nutrition for my daughter. (Well, until recently, when she started eating solids, but as far as milk goes? The tits are IT) I breastfeeding her, I do, it’s such a beautiful experience… HOWEVER, lately I feel as though she’s sucking the life out of me. Every 3 hours, I have to whip ’em out. No matter where I am. No matter what I’m doing, I have to STOP, whip out a tit and sit there. I can’t go anywhere for longer than 3 hours without having to rush back home.
I am tempted to say “I’m not complaining” but the truth is, I’m totally complaining. I need a break. And? I need a glass of wine. A night out with my husband or with friends would be nice too.
Problem is the girl REFUSES to take a bottle. I was telling my mother about this over the weekend. I fully expected her to scold me for complaining. She didn’t! She completely surprised me by saying “that’s not ok! That little girl needs to learn how to take a bottle so you can get a break!” I was SHOCKED! My own mother! The ultimate believer that mothers are to live ONLY to serve their children, their husbands and their Jesus. SHE TOLD ME I NEED A BREAK! She told me I need to teach her how to drink from a bottle and that I should do it NOW. I agreed and I decided to go buy some formula and have Tony give it a try.
Oh, how Tony tried. He tried and tried and tried. Operation It’s Not Going To Happen” was in full effect. As you can see, it’s not even that she doesn’t “know” how to drink from a bottle. It’s that she flat out refuses to drink from a bottle. It’s that she’s like “If it aint a big, soft, warm tit? Get it out of my face, bitches.” She’s SMACKING IT OUT OF HER FACE, PEOPLE. S-M-A-C-K-I-N-G it.
We both eventually gave up and I gave in and whipped it out because I felt bad for her. She doesn’t understand. Her entire life, the boob is all she’s known and out of the blue we’re all “Here! Suck on this rubber nipple filled with formula instead!” I guess I can see why she’d resist and fight it, but I can’t imagine doing this for another 7 months without a break. I just can’t.
(I should clarify, I do NOT want to quit breastfeeding. Mostly, I find it to be an incredibly beautiful experience. I just would like her to be able to drink a bottle so if I need a break, or if I want to go somewhere, I have that option.)
Improved
After sleeping all morning, lots of liquids and love from mama, I’m happy to report that Ethan is doing much better. I honestly thought he’d end up in the hospital, especially after finding him on the floor of his bedroom this morning because he “felt too weak to crawl back into bed” after getting up to get his water bottle.
Now, we’ll just have to wait and see how long it takes for the rest of the family to get what he had. Joy! (And I’ll NEVER admit that I secretly hope I get it so that I can lose a few pounds.)
Being mama.
Today was supposed to be an exciting day. Opening day of basketball for both of my boys. First game at 12:00, second game at 2:30. We were looking forward to rushing in the rain to get from one game to the next, having some lunch in between. Sitting in the bleachers, cheering for our boys.
Instead, I’m sitting here with knots in my stomach thinking Ethan might end up in the emergency room, hooked up to an IV. He threw up a LOT yesterday and then fever set in. It was such a horrible day, trying to divide my time and attention between the three kids, knowing how badly Ethan needed me to be right there, and yet having a 5 month old who totally depends on me for everything. I took care of him the best way I could, without ever letting Gabby near him. I hand fed him chicken noodle soup while Andrew watched Gabby. I held his cup so he could sip water. I rubbed his feet, his hands, his head. I checked his temperature every hour. I gave him tylenol to keep the fever down. I held wet washcloths to his forward. I prayed with him as he cried and asked Jesus to make him feel better. I did everything I could short of taking his sickness upon myself (Which, believe me, if I could have, I would have) But I still feel as though I didn’t do enough and now, as he’s lying there so weak he can’t even sit up, as he’s shaking to hold up his water bottle, I can’t help but wonder if I should have asked my mom to take Gabby so I could have given my full attention to Ethan. OH WAIT, Gabby won’t take a bottle, I couldn’t have done that.
I’m feeling as though there’s just not enough of ME to go around, but mostly, I’m feeling very worried about my little Ethan.
I’ll let Tony take Andrew to his game (and YES, it’s going to break my heart into a thousand pieces that I won’t be there to watch him play his first game) and if Ethan doesn’t seem a little better after having been hand fed some oatmeal and after having sipped on some Pedialyte? It’s off to the hospital we go.
Now begins the year that I continue to fear The Cock.
2004. The year my life was graced with the 8lb 5oz baby girl, whom I named Gabriella Mercedes.
The daughter I never dreamed I’d have (even though Melly predicted it a long time ago, even though I told her “Oh HELL NO, I aint having any more kids, woman!)
The daughter who has filled my soul with a love I couldn’t have imagine and who, obviously, acquired my Multiple Chin Syndrome.
The daugher who totally loves me right back, even if she’s always all “Mom, why you gotta be all up in my grill? Can a baby get some room to rip a fart?”
The daughter whom, no matter how hard I TRY, I can’t seem to stop smothering with kisses.
There you have it, MY version of greatest thing about the year 2004.
(Well that AND the fact that the whole “being pregnant” thing gave me the freedom, the right, and the DUTY to talk about vaginas all the time, but we won’t go there again. We’ve moved on, people. Now? It’s ALL tittymilk ALL the time.
Visualize this
Me. Leopard print pants. Blue Weight Watchers T-shirt. Playing Dance Dance Revolution.
I’m addicted to it and my boys are PISSED. At first, they were all “YAY! Mom’s playing it with us! It’s ok if she totally sucks at it!” But then, I started to get it and I started clearing all the levels and they weren’t getting any turns and now they’re all “Mom, you bought it for us! WHY DON’T YOU BUY YOUR OWN!”
Whatever! They’re just threatened by my mad arrow following dance skills. You would be too.
(for Nat
Not that you asked…
What did I get for Christmas? You see those 4 beautiful people right there? The ones smiling while waiting for me to take that picture? THAT is what I got for Christmas. Smiles, from my children and my husband.
Lots of smiles.
And love.
OH, the LOVE! I took that picture at 5:45am on Christmas day, just before we headed out to the living room to watch our children began unwrapping their gifts. There, in my bed, was my entire family and I thought to myself “I’m looking at my entire life right there, how lucky am I?”.
I will never forget that moment.
Of course, 20 minutes later, there was crying and arguing and fighting and farting and more farting. And still, I said “I’m the luckiest woman I know” And I wasn’t just saying that because my farts NEVER stink. I was saying it because I have been blessed with three beautiful children who are healthy, happy and who love me.
It was a special Christmas, the first one with our daughter.
The daughter we thought we’d never have.
The daughter who has brought each and every member of our family infinite amounts of joy, laughter, pride and love.
The daughter who makes me swell with pride (and not just because she farts just as loud as I do.)
I never could have imagined the delight I’d get out of dressing a little girl. Hello? I get to put dresses on, with socks and shoes that match the dress and? I can put BOWS IN A LITTLE PERSONS HAIR! It’s, like, totally awesome, man.
I refrained from buying all things girl for Gabby because I realise at this age she has no clue what is going on. Instead, I got her one big toy that I knew she’d enjoy. Do you have any idea how hard it was to NOT buy here all kinds of pretty girl things?
Next year, Oh yes, next year indeed.
Both of the boys were extremely happy with their gifts (although, clearly one of them has a WEE bit more enthusiasm than the other).
I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day, although, it would have been nice if Christmas could have been the day I could have declared “The Kegals have finally done their job! My ‘little problem’ is cured and I no longer pee a little when I laugh a lot.”
Oh well, one can’t get EVERYTHING they wish for in one day now, can they?
I’ll leave you with what I believe is my favorite picture of my daughter yet. Remember when I told you that she loves to look at herself?” Just look…
See? Precious, I tell you.
Slow down, time!
I do not plan on posting anything more until after Christmas. Too much to do to justify sitting in front of the computer. Besides, the days are passing entirely too quickly and I need to be with my children, enjoying every minute I have with them. I’m telling you, I blinked and they were “big boys”. It breaks my heart and makes me proud at the same time. I’ve been overwhelmed with thoughts of “they’re growing too fast, pay more attention to them while they’re still little” lately.
When they’re little, you think they’ll be around forever, then, they get older and they start wanting to hang out with friends, and go places and you realize that a day will come where they will leave and you will be left with this big, gaping hole in your heart, longing for the days when they were just your little boys and all they wanted to do was sit next to you and talk endlessly about things that didn’t really matter and sometimes? You’d get so annoyed because you just wanted some peace and quite and so you feel guilty for not just enjoying the hell out of every single second with them while they were little and sweet and innocent. And now I want to cry.
Will this stop? Am I going to be a wreck from here on out or will there come a day that I’ll be okay with them being “grown?”
I wasn’t even trying to “go there” with this post, all I wanted to do was say a little “Merry Christmas” to everyone and a little “I’ll see you next year”.
Now? I must go crawl into bed with my boys and squeeze them tightly and beg God to slow down time so they can stay my “little boys” just a little longer.
Joy Unexpected
When I first found out I was pregnant with Gabby, I cried. Ok, I FREAKED OUT, fell on the bathroom floor and sobbed. At that moment, I actually said, outloud “This is the worst thing that could happen to me!”
I called my husband, and I cried.
I called my mom, and I cried.
I called my neighbor, and I cried.
I cried for 2 weeks.
I was talking to a woman shortly after I found out the baby I was carrying was a girl. At this point in the pregnancy, I was actually ok with it and was hoping for the best, but I told her the story of “The Day I Found Out” and how I had so much guilt about it. She told me that she had found herself in the exact same situation 12 years earlier. She had two older boys and found out she was unexpectedly pregnant.
Like me, she cried.
Then she looked at me and said “One day, you’ll look at your daughter and you’ll ask yourself ‘how did I ever live without her?.'”
Today, as I watched my daughter fall asleep while wearing her santa hat, I was taken by her beauty, overwhelmed with love and “It” happened. I leaned close to her and I said, outloud, “How did I ever live without you, sweet girl?”
And I cried.
Just…NO!
I’m going to have to take drastic measures to protect my daughter from the baby lovers of this city because people can’t stop TOUCHING MY DAUGHTER.
I’m sorry, I’m weird about that, if I don’t know you, I don’t want you to touch my baby. I have no idea where people’s hands have been and they touch her hand and then she sticks her hands in her mouth. Ew. It just makes me sick. I’ve tried to be polite about it, UNTIL TODAY. Because, today? Today, someone who I’ve never seen in my entire life… KISSED MY BABY ON THE CHEEK.
“HELP! PERSONAL SPACE INVASION OF THE WORST KIND IN THE BARBIE ISLE!”
I was so shocked and disgusted and pissed and SHOCKED.
I’m going to start carrying a sign “DO NOT TOUCH THE BABY.”
Or how about “Touch the baby, get your ass beat”
What in the hell is wrong with people? I mean, I’ve seen cute babies before and I’ve never, not once, EVER thought “that baby is so cute that I’m going TO KISS IT!” Hell, I have never even touched a baby I don’t know.
Why do The Crazies of the world always end up in the same isle as me?