Do you know where you're going to?

So, we were out of town this past weekend visiting family in Calgary. Since both our vehicles need work and are not in safe driving condition ... and it's winter, on the highway, with two small children ... we rented a vehicle for the trip. Best to be safe, we figure.

We don't know our way around Calgary. So we took the GPS. Generally, the GPS works like a dream. But sometimes it's not up to date on closed businesses, new streets, etc. Also, it can give off some fairly interesting directions. Like these:

"Right turn on Memorial Doctor West"
(actual street name is Memorial Dr ... or "Drive")

"Exit right onto Crowchild Triangle"
(actual street name is Crowchild Trl ... or "Trail")

"Slight left turn on 15th Avenue Say"
(actual street name is 15 Ave SE ... or "Southeast")

"When possible, make a legal u-turn"
(up here, u-turns are never legal)

"Make a diagonal left turn on Unnamed"
(what is a "diagonal left turn"?!?!)

"Exit right to 16th Avenue East 1A Highway E 32 Street to H W Y 1E Highway 32 East"
(ummmmmm ...)

It's great when the GPS gives no advance warning, too. And that's when you think it should just say "Turn left ... NOW!" But mostly, it's good. And it certainly helped us to find our way around. Eventually. It also inspired some interesting discussions. And we have found that a fairly inexpensive way to stay entertained is to drive your vehicle into the middle of a large parking lot, ask your GPS for directions, and then drive around in circles completely ignoring its directions and waiting for its microchips to start smoldering as it keeps "calculating route" over and over. Also, you can contemplate what the perfect GPS would actually say to you at any given moment. Like so:

"No. Your other left."
"Stop your vehicle now. You should not be driving."
"Make an illegal three-point turn."
"Our records show this is not a street. You are driving through houses."
"We are contacting the authorities. Stay where you are."
"Return your rental vehicle here, before you kill someone."

**********
We had a lovely visit with my birth mom, though it was too brief. She seems to be doing well, all things considered. I don't think I've blogged much about her illness, if at all, so I'll do so now. If you're here for humour, you should probably just skip over the rest of this post ... it's medical stuff, and cancer is just not funny.

My birth mom has a rare form of pancreatic cancer. She was diagnosed with it this past summer. The tumor was quite large (roughly 6 inches) and had spread to her liver, bloodstream, and lymph system. It's an aggressive and fast growing form of cancer. It is also inoperable. When she began treatments, we were told that the cancer had almost completely replaced her liver and that, without chemo, she would not be expected to survive more than a few days. Fortunately, her type of cancer is generally very responsive to chemo, and liver cells can regenerate if enough of the cancer cells can be killed off.

The tumor has responded well to the first bunch of chemo treatments and has shrunk so that it is no longer causing any pain. And her liver is functioning once more, which is good news. The doctors stopped the chemo when they were required to, when her white cell count was at a certain low level. She will go for a CT scan in the new year to see if the tumor is growing again and, if so, she will need to start another round of chemo treatments.

In the meantime, she's fighting the cancer any way she can, and is trying an experimental therapy with a drug called "DCA". It's not presently being tested as a treatment for pancreatic cancer, but we are all hopeful that it will help her. Next time we go down, we'll try to stay a bit longer and have a better visit. We hesitate to tire her, though, so have to curb our enthusiasm a bit. The kids in particular can tire a person out pretty fast.

Momma got run over by a reindeer

So, an elk hit our van.

No. Not the other way around.

Last night, as we were driving down a dark stretch of road on our way home from the flu clinic, a suicidal elk leaped out of the bushes, raced to the road, and slammed its preposterously large form into the side of our van. I really didn't know they moved that quickly.

It survived. We survived. The van, I think, survived.

Initially concerned for the welfare of the animal, J became angry when he saw the damage to the van. "Reindeer!" J shouted sternly, "Why did you hit our van?!"

H swerved to avoid the elk. Thankfully there was no oncoming traffic. Because of H's evasive driving, we did not hit the beast head-on. And for that, we are thankful. Also, the antlers did not come through our windshield or my window. And, while the front end and passenger side of the vehicle are pretty messed up, damage appears to be contained to the front of the van. The back door doesn't appear to have even been hit. We are happy to all be alright. 'Cause the van is just metal, and doesn't matter as much as the rest of us.

But just to recap 2008 to date:

High risk pregnancy;
Abrupted placenta;
Prolonged bed rest;
Grumpy disability provider;
Kidney stones;
Hospital stays;
Precipitous birth;
Complications immediately post-birth;
Birth mom with cancer;
Financial constraints;
Broken knee (tibial plateau fracture);
Surgery and another hospital stay;
Painkillers;
Block fire;
Suicidal elk slams into van.

You ever have one of those years? I seriously can't wait for 2009!!

Later this week, we will be having elk burgers. Just you wait. I'll get him yet.

Smashing those damned pumpkins

First, let me just say this.


That's right. We were featured on Good Mom/Bad Mom today for BS Sunday.

Okay, fine. I submitted the dark, heavy post in question myself. But they read it and decided to include it. I think. Unless Jenny was really busy this week and just grabbed any and all links. Which I suppose is equally possible. But hopefully they read it. I believe they did. And now, we have a lovely badge that we can wear with pride. And really, isn't that what counts? Of course it is!

Now, down to business.

**********
One of my favourite blogs is Steenky Bee. If you haven't read her yet, you've obviously just climbed out of a Biosphere. A crappy, out of touch Biosphere. One with no Internet access whatsoever.

Seriously. Head over there. You must read Steenky Bee. She's fabulous. A wonderful mother, a gifted dancer, and she always has perfect hair. I'd link to individual posts that I love, but then I'd just be linking to every page, and that's kind of weird.

**********
So earlier this month, Steenky Bee posted about undertaking a fun family activity. Inspired by her genius and creative prowess, we decided today to participate in a fun family activity ourselves. But sharp scissors and hot irons seemed like a bad idea for our 3-year old. He might get hurt.

So we used knives.

Pumpkin carving! Perfect! Halloween is just around the corner. Why not?

Not having pumpkin patches this far north, H and J had earlier trotted off to a garden centre to pick out the sorriest, most deflated and lopsided looking excuse of a perfect pumpkin, which we would carve together, as a family.

I pulled out the pumpkin carving kit. J was very excited. I put the pumpkin on the kitchen table. J was totally enthused. I let J pick out the design for his Jack-o-lantern. Happily, J picked out "The Angry Face". (It should be noted that there were two "Angry" faces, of which J wanted "The Really Angry One"! Which is also the hardest face to carve. But whatever.)

As J finished dinner, I cut the lid off the pumpkin. And then, when he was done eating, I gave him a little scoop, so that he could help me clean out the pumpkin innards. He quickly branded this activity "icky", and opted instead to hold the garbage bag for me. For about five seconds. Before he decided to abandon me entirely in favour of pretending to be a doctor who needed to give everyone needles. And how convenient that the little stencil marker tool beside me looked sort of like a needle! J promptly stole it and ran through the house, leaving me to scoop out the pumpkin guts myself. H cleaned off J's plate and put the food away.

Meanwhile, the previously contentedly sleeping N awoke. H went to rescue him. H returned to the kitchen and sat at the island holding baby N, and J climbed up in H's lap to give H and N each a "needle". Buried under children, H watched me, sitting at the table by myself scooping pumpkin innards into a garbage bag, and said:

H: Honey, this really wasn't what I had in mind when I thought about a fun family activity.

I told J that I needed his help and that, if he wouldn't help me, I would have to carve the whole pumpkin all by myself. His response?

J: Okay. Do that.

And then, J shouted out that he was "The Sock Stealer". And he ran around the house in search of socks to "steal". All socks, once found, had to be worn on his left foot. In layers. So J ended up with one bare foot and one foot that appeared to be sporting a very unusual thick cast made entirely of socks.

It was then that I took a hammer and smashed the stupid pumpkin to smithereens small break to feed N and make him all nice and happy. J used this opportunity to fight with H about bedtime and sleepwear. H wanted J to sleep in his blue pajamas. J wanted to sleep in his dragon costume. Or at the very least, the dragon head. Kicking and screaming, the headless J was dragged upstairs. (Not really, but I couldn't resist that last sentence.)

As H got J ready for bed, I taped the stencil to the pumpkin. J ran down at one point to provide me with some assistance. Tearing off large amounts of tape and attaching them to various parts of his face and body was most helpful, I assure you. H watched, gritting his teeth, and then gave J a glass of milk.

Once the stencil was taped in place, I got J to make a couple of pokes in the black area with the little stencil marker that J thought was a needle. And then H put J to bed while I outlined the rest of the stencil design, removed the stencil from the pumpkin, and cut out the face.

No pictures were taken of the progress. Sorry. No one had a free hand to spare for operating the camera.

So anyway, after I had completed our fun family activity by myself, H and I discussed the outcome. And we concluded that it would probably be a better idea to just buy a pre-cut Jack-o-lantern in future years.

We may post a picture of our my creation eventually. But for now, let me just say this.

It's my Jack-o-lantern! Mine! Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine!! I made it, and I'm keeping it!!!

Yeah. Whatever. Mine.

Don't you lose my BIL and Li's number

Update: My business case marks have now been posted. They're early. I got 100%. Sweet!!

Three weeks since my business case was due and five since I broke my knee. Still waiting on both counts. Oddly, it only takes six weeks for a broken knee to substantially heal, but it takes up to eight weeks to mark a business case. Eight weeks? Yes. Eight weeks. Seems excessive, doesn't it? I would really like to know that I passed.

I really need to work on my current course. Very very behind. But every time I get a chance, my phone rings. The ringing phone wakes up the baby. And the baby needs to be cuddled, fed, and lulled back to sleep. Every single time. J was never such a light sleeper, but N really doesn't like noise. I can do many things while holding N. I can one-handed type, or play on the Internet. But I cannot focus on my readings while holding a squirming baby and trying to lull him back to sleep.

And so the ringing phone annoys me, because it prevents me from doing what I really need to do.

It wouldn't be so bad if the calls were for me. Or for anyone else in our household, for that matter. But they are wrong numbers. Every last call. All wrong numbers. All from the same person.

I can't turn the ringer off. And I can't just not answer the phone. And it's not because I have some odd form of telephone-related-OCD. It's nothing so complicated. Quite simply, I have to answer the phone because of who is on the other end of that line.

I love my mother-in-law, and it hurts me to see her memory fading like this. She cannot remember the new phone number of my brother-in-law and his wife, Li. And so she phones the number that sounds the most familiar to her, expecting to reach them. The result is that she calls me several times a day, expecting to reach BIL and Li. Every time, she is surprised to reach me. Every time, she makes a point of writing down their new phone number. But it never sticks. She remembers calling me. She remembers that I gave her BIL and Li's number. She remembers that she wrote it down. But old habits die hard, and she still instinctively calls our number instead. Up to 20 times a day.

She has told me that she was writing BIL and Li's number in her phone book. She has also told me that she is writing it really big and posting it on her fridge. But she is confused. Names are problematic for her now, and sometimes she writes BIL's or Li's name beside our number. The result is that all numbers in her phone book seem to point back to ours, and she can't differentiate. As to posting it on the fridge? We don't know what happened ... maybe little fridge elves broke in and ran off with it, but the number is apparently not on the fridge.

"It's in your phone book, Mom."

She will look, and find yet another reference to our number.

"No, Mom. That's my number again."
"Is it this one, then?"
"Still my number, Mom."
"But it says BIL! It says 'BIL & H' ... Oh!"
"Yeah, see. It's not his number, Mom."
"Well, let me write it down again."

She calls. I give her BIL and Li's number. She then hangs up and proceeds to phone me again. And I answer. Every single time. Even though I know that it is the same person, calling the same wrong number, over and over again. I answer. Because I love her, and I realize that it is not her fault. She's not doing it on purpose. She is doing her best. She just needs some help.

But so do I.

It's too often. It is just too much. Too many times calling and waking N. Too many times disrupting my studies for too long a time. Too far behind in my class, and too much to do to catch up. Too many distractions and interruptions. I need for N to sleep. I need for the phone to stop ringing. I have to turn the ringer off. There is no other option. But I have not been able to bring myself to do so thus far.

She called again today. I saw her name on the phone. I didn't even say "Hello" when I answered. I just answered, and said "Mom, their number is ..." and I began to give her the number. She cannot remember how a phone works. So she started dialing the number while I was giving it to her.

"Mom, you can't call them while you're on the phone with me."
"No?"
"No. You have to hang up first, and then call them."
"Oh, okay. Well, give me the number."
"Ok. It's (provides number)."
"I don't have a pen, so I might not remember it."
"You said you were putting it on the fridge last time."
"I think I did that. Let me look."

...

"I put it on the fridge. But it's not there now. Let me get a pen."

...

"What's the number?"
"It's (provides number yet again)."
"Okay. I've got it now."
"Mom. I hope you do. Because I'm turning the ringer off the phone now. Every time you call, you wake up the baby. I can't have you do this any more."
"Okay. Bye."

This time, she actually recited the last part of the number to me while I was giving it to her. So that's progress. Maybe it's starting to sink in now. I hope so in any event. Because I just can't do this any more.

It's not her fault. But it's not my fault either. And I need to function. It has to stop. Now. Today. It has to stop.

It makes me sad. She is a nice lady, who should not have memory loss. There is something wrong in the world. These things should not happen.

Every time I see you anywhere near me, I cry

My sister stopped by today. It sure was nice to see her. As an added bonus, she brought fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. I love chocolate. And cookies. Yummy!

Sis was looking forward to some baby snuggling time. But N absolutely did not want Sis. He had no problem making this abundantly clear either. Every time Sis would touch N, he would cry. She would hold him and he would immediately start screaming long and loud, stopping shortly after she passed him back to me. She would touch his hand and he would stick his bottom lip out in a perfect pout before dissolving completely, burying his head against my shoulder and weeping. At 4 months old, he's a little young to be making strange, so I really don't know what he found so objectionable about her attentions.

What's wrong, N? Is her pretty blonde hair too bouncy? Her skin too tanned? Do you question her intentions? Dislike chocolate chip cookies? Do you sense that she is a dog person, whereas you are a cat person? Do you object to her political views? Or are you just a big ol' grump who is getting new teeth and really wants his mommy?

Please don't take it personally, Sis. It's not you. It's N. He is teething and grumpy. He loves you. And I love you. (Also: Cookies = Yum!)

Thank you. Come again. Also, bring more cookies. 'Cause: Yum!

I'm so high on you

Percocet. Percocet is a wonderful drug. The pain is still there, but it is substantially lessened. I drift in and out of slumber.

When awake, I reflect on how enormous my living room looks now that much of the furniture has been removed. Things were re-organized during my hospital stay. The main floor is now a minimalist space, where I have room to move about with my old lady walker or crutches while wearing my leg brace. I play on the Internet. I put final touches on my project, which will soon be submitted.

When asleep, I am at perfect peace. I forget that my knee is broken, and I dream pleasant dreams. If I move in my sleep, the pain is sudden and severe, and it wakes me. I try not to move much. It's jarring.

Mostly, I reside in a state of semi-consciousness. My eyelids feel heavy, and my vision is blurred. I could be right in the middle of something, and then I open my eyes and twenty minutes has passed. I did not sleep, but I just stopped what I was doing and ceased movement. It's rather disconcerting.

In these times, I converse with myself. Or with others. It's sometimes quite unusual. The other day, I lay still, eyes closed peacefully, and listened to my mother-in-law talk. She was telling me about a dream that she'd had. It didn't make much sense, but I was able to follow her train of thought as she told the story, moving swiftly from topic to topic, dancing in and out of subject matter as she spoke, just as she always does, her voice quiet and earnest. And while I listened, I thought about what a shame it was that she wasn't actually there. I was enjoying listening to her, and it would have been so much better had she been real.

Percocet. I highly recommend it.

I'm going to sleep now. Nighty night.

The obstinate, sarcastic wing-nut doesn't fall far from the tree

J was very well behaved this morning. He was sweet and snuggly, and made me very happy. He got up before H left for work, but seemed to understand that I was really tired. He snuggled up to me in the bed and watched Treehouse contentedly for a little while while N and I slept. Once we got up, however, all bets were off.

J refused to eat his breakfast. It was just dry Cheerios and a glass of milk, which is J's favorite breakfast. I let him eat it in the living room while watching cartoons. This usually entices him to eat his breakfast. But he just sat there and picked at his food. When he finally decided to eat some of it, he gagged and threw up all over the floor and couch. And that was when I first noticed that we were out of paper towels. I managed to clean up the mess with napkins. I washed the couch with soap. I went to wash the floor. And that was when I discovered that we were out of Swiffer solution. I used different solution, and got everything suitably cleaned up.

N began to squawk at this point. I picked him up for a moment, but was interrupted by J's announcement: "I pooped in my pull-up". J continues to be less than stellar on the whole potty training front. In any event, I took J to the potty and then went to change him. J did not cooperate with either activity. It was most unpleasant; let's just leave it at that.

It was a beautiful day out today. It was quite hot, but not unbearable. J wanted to go for a stroller ride. I got out the double stroller, got the kids ready, and away we went. Took them on a nice brisk walk around the storm pond. J likes water, and was interested in seeing it. I let him pick our destination. He has several other places where he likes to go, too. Since we couldn't do them all, we had to save some for another time. Specifically, we had to forego the waterfall and fountain in the neighbouring community, the playground, and the candy store.

J enjoyed his walk. It was a fairly long walk. He made me stop periodically to pick up rocks. And from time to time, I had to push the stroller over various sewers so that he could drop the rocks in. This is his favourite activity. Drives us nuts, but it's all he really wants to do.

We returned to the house, hot and spent but happy. The double stroller is quite heavy, and I felt like I'd gotten a nice workout. I got J out of the stroller first. I figured he'd do the usual thing: climb up on the veranda and play with his rocks, trucks, and sandtable while I got N out of the stroller. He did climb up on the veranda. He grabbed some rocks. I worked on getting N out of the stroller. And then:

J: I want to drop these rocks in the sewer.
T: No, J. We're going inside.
J: How come?
T: Because I have to think about N too. He's hot and tired. It's time to go inside.
J: I'm going to drop these rocks in the sewer.
T: No. The sewer is too far away. Let's go inside.

By this time, I have N in my arms. J sees his opportunity, and starts running down the street, rocks in hand, toward the sewer. I can't chase him down and pick him up, since I'm holding N. I holler "J! STOP!!" J looks back and sees me approaching, N in my arms. He laughs defiantly. He continues to run down the street. At one point, he throws two plastic dinosaurs in my path. I step over them and continue to walk toward my openly defiant child.

J drops his dang rocks in the dang sewer. Then he runs back to me and N. He loses all play privileges for the rest of the day. And as we walk back to the house, I scold him openly.

T: You don't ever run off like that!!!
J: Can I walk off?

Lovely. Okay, so I can't run off. What if I walk? What if I crawl? How about if I prance off? He is just the most sarcastic little 3-year old I have ever met!!!

I told H about it. His comment was that J comes by his sarcasm honestly. I guess that's true. Between me, H, and our respective blood lines, sarcasm definitely runs in the family. I'd just kind of hoped it would start a little later.

Go ahead! Laugh at my pain!!

Introducing Baby N

Well ... after months and months of bed rest and ongoing complications, our new little baby is here. It's a boy.

I was being seen in hospital every other day by the end of things. More kidney stones, more bleeding, etc., etc., etc. When we reached 38 weeks, the doctor decided the baby was in good stead and that the pregnancy was adversely affecting my health. With virtually nothing to be gained by continuing the pregnancy to 40 weeks, the doctor decided that I could be induced around 39 weeks to save my own health.

We were scheduled for an induction last weekend. We made arrangements for J to spend time with our friends, L&P and K&K, and their respective children. J had a great time, and we are forever grateful to our friends for taking such good care of our little man. He had his first sleepover ... and with a girl, no less! Us? Well ... all's well that ends well, so we really can't complain. But we will always want to remember how it went. So ... here's how it went.

The hospital was really busy on Sunday. Ordinarily, they call people around 6:00 a.m. and try to get them admitted by 7:30 or 8:00 a.m. But there were so many people admitted in labour through the night that they had no room for us in the morning. We had a wait. Eventually, we were told to head in for 3:00 p.m. They did a non-stress test on the baby, where they hooked me up to monitors to look for contractions and check baby's heart rate. Everything looked fine with baby. No distress. Baby's position was good. I had no contractions, and the cervix wasn't ready. All of this, we already knew. So we were good to go as soon as a bed became available.

Around 5:45 p.m., they got started. They used Cervidil. It's the first step of a two-part process, and is used for "cervical ripening". Once the Cervidil takes effect, they start a drip (usually Pitocin) to bring on stronger contractions. We were told that the Cervidil can take up to 24 hours to work, and may not even work at that point. It may need to be re-applied. Induction is a long and drawn out process when the cervix isn't ready.

Are they sure it's going to take a really long time?
Yes, they're sure.
Ok ... because I want an epidural as soon as things are well under way, and I don't want to miss the opportunity.
It's fine; induction takes a long time, but if the opportunity is missed for whatever reason, they have lots of experience talking women through labour without drugs.
Ok ... yes ... but I want the epidural.
Just wait. It's going to be a long time.

I told H that he should just go home, and we'd call him back in if anything happened during the night. H declined, feeling quite uncomfortable with this suggestion. He decided to use the fold-out bed available in my room. We'd brought a lot of the comforts of home, having anticipated that induced labour can take some time. So H curled up with our portable DVD player and watched some movies until he drifted off. And I slept as much as I could while I waited for any indication that something was happening.

The nurses checked in periodically. Checked with monitors. Baby's heart rate is still good. There are no contractions at all. Nothing is happening.

And then, I started having pain. It didn't feel like the contractions I had with J. The location of the pain was hard to describe. Some in the back, by the kidneys. Some in the front, but only low down in the pelvis. The pain comes in waves, but without a break between. Are these contractions? Or is it something else? I don't know. But it really hurts. So I called the nurse, and she came.

I'm lying on my side, hooked up to monitors. No contractions are visible on the monitor. The nurse can't feel any contractions manually either. A check of the cervix shows it is unchanged. These are not contractions. We don't know what they are.

Could it be the kidney stones again?
Could be. Does it feel the same?
Well, it feels like that in the back. But the pelvic pain is different.
Do you think it's the kidney stones?
If it's not contractions, it's got to be the stones.
We'll give a shot of morphine and gravol to handle the pain.

Kidney stones are always handled with pain control. Same shot of morphine and gravol. It works well. Takes effect quickly, too when the problem is stones. I know a shot of morphine doesn't touch labour pains. But these aren't contractions. Got to be more kidney stones. So I get the morphine.

And then I roll onto my back, and wait for the shot to take effect. It doesn't take effect.

The nurse feels my abdomen as I lie in my new position. And she says "Wait. I think maybe these are contractions". And I shriek as I search for a more comfortable position. I settle on sitting up on the edge of the bed and pushing forward with my hands. At this point, H finally wakes up and wants to know what's going on.

The nurse tells me to get ahold of myself and breathe through the contractions. It's going to be a long time, and it's going to get much worse. This is just early labour. I have a long way to go. Focus. Breathe. The cervix isn't being affected by these contractions. The contractions may not even progress, since the cervix isn't ready. But it's going to take a long time.

T: Just give me a c-section!
H: Honey, you don't want a c-section. You said that.
T: I lied!

A different nurse comes in to join the first nurse. And that's when I hear a pop and feel a gush. "I think my water broke". They check. There may be meconium in the fluid. They're not quite sure. Nurse #2 wants to check the cervix. Nurse #1 tells her the cervix is still not ready, and certainly not dilated at all. Nurse #2 checks anyway. I'm suddenly 6 cm dilated.

Nurse #2 runs to call the anesthetist to get the epidural going. She returns moments later. The anesthetist is on his way in. He only lives 5 minutes away, so it will be soon. Just hang on. She checks the cervix again. And now, I'm 9 cm dilated.

Nurse #2 calls the anesthetist again. Don't come in. You'll never make it.

Nurse #2 tells me there's no time for an epidural. (She later told me that she thought I was going to leap off the bed and strangle her.) Nothing can be done.

No time for an epidural. The morphine shot hasn't kicked in yet. And I keep forgetting to breathe through the contractions. Laughing gas solves this problem. I can hear my breathing through the mask, and it reminds me to keep breathing through. But the baby is now in distress, and the heart rate has dropped to 50. The intern orchestrating delivery tells me that I have to get mad and push the baby out right away. There is no time to wait.

And so there is no crowning, then the head, then the shoulders ... which are the normal steps in delivery. Oh no. One solid push for all I'm worth, and the baby comes out. No one is ready. No one catches the baby. The baby falls on the bed. Staff recovery is quick, and the baby is scooped up quickly. We pretend that didn't happen.

According to the nursing staff, 40 minutes to dilate from 0 to 10 cm and 7 minutes of pushing. All told, a 47 minute labour, ending at 5:41 a.m.

They clean up the baby, put the drops in the eyes. Weigh him: 6 lbs 14 oz. Measure him: 18 3/4 inches. Baby is healthy and happy. Scores 8 and 9 on the Apgars. Came out crying right away. Nice pink colour. Baby looks very good indeed. My OB (who missed the entire birth) arrives and stitches me up. The nurses give baby to his daddy. And once I am ready, H gives me the baby to hold. The staff leave the room. I get ready to nurse our new son. H starts to make phone calls to give the good news to our families.

I look at my son with pride and joy. And realize that he has turned blue. We call the staff back. They run for all they're worth. The morphine, which did nothing to help me, was absorbed by the baby. He has forgotten to breathe. Baby needs a shot of Narcan and some oxygen. They work to anger the baby to make him breathe. They speak of bagging him. But in the end, they do not have to take this step. Baby begins to breathe on his own again, and he returns to my arms. We are told to pay special attention at certain times over the next day and to hit the yellow emergency button if it happens again.

We are happy and relieved. We phone our families to give the good news. We do not realize until later that the speed of the delivery has resulted in a further complication. The uterus is not contracting as it should, and I am bleeding too much. Blood loss is becoming a concern. Several doses of medication are required to control the bleeding and force the uterus to contract. Thankfully, the medication eventually works. The bleeding is controlled. And we are discharged the following afternoon.

Welcome to the world, baby N. You are a sweet, wonderful little package. And as much as you have put us through, you are totally worth it!

I love you so much, my sweet son.

Shopping with a J

I always knew work would need their laptop back. I had hoped that it would be after the baby was born, but I kind of knew that was wishful thinking. The timeframe is just too long. The office has expanded, and new people require the equipment. My laptop needs to be updated with some new software so that it can be reassigned and returned back into circulation.

In my absence, I've been using the laptop primarily for school. My schooling is work-related, but not as work-related as actual billable work. Billable work takes precedence. And so, my employer has contacted me and asked for return of the company laptop. It's more than fair. They've actually been really good to let me keep it for this long. It needs to be returned ASAP, as their supplier has had some delivery delays and the situation is fairly desperate. They're good to me. We'll get the laptop back to them right away.

Unfortunately, we now need to make some alternate arrangements for my own sanity. I'm on bed rest, as you all know, so I can't sit up at my primary computer. I can't imagine what I would do with no computer access for the next several months, but the only access I'm permitted consists of using the laptop while lying down. And I can't adequately prepare for my exam with no computer.

H and I discussed it, and we decided that we needed to get a personal-use laptop computer. We'll need one in the next year or so anyway. And for the time being, I desperately need it to preserve my sanity for the next few months. Fortunately, they're on sale right now.

H was outfitted with a list of requirements, straight from the accounting association's website. And after work today, H picked up J from daycare, and off they went to the store to pick out a laptop computer.

They arrived at the store before 6:00. H found a knowledgable staff member to help him. A reasonably priced, appropriately discounted, completely suitable laptop was selected quickly. Score! H and J would be home in plenty of time for dinner, and J would make his regular bedtime.

And then, it was time to pay for our new computer.

H decided to use a credit card.

And that's when the shopping expedition turned. It went something like this:

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The security code on the back of a credit card is an added security feature for telephone and online purchases. But the store has a rather silly policy of requiring entry of the security code on the back of the card, even for in-person purchases. Sadly, the code is worn off of the card. So the cashier spends some time unsuccessfully trying to guess it.

After trying to ring it up seven times and receiving seven consecutive "declined" messages, he gives up.

H calls the bank to try to get the code. Runs through a million and one security questions, and eventually gets the code. The bank then advises that all of the "declined" attempts were actually put through as "preauthorized holds" by the bank, and the card is now maxed out. So now, even though H has the security code, he still can't pay for the computer. The bank advises that, unless this is remedied, there will be a hold on our account for 5 business days. That will put us past the "sale" date, will cost us a significant amount of coin, will prevent us from using the card in the interim, and is obviously completely unacceptable.

The store spends the next two plus hours trying to resolve the situation with the bank.

The bank requests a letter on the store's letterhead stating what happened. The store has no letterhead. Will a letter signed by the store manager do? The bank will check and call back. Yes. Yes that will do.

What does the letter need to say? The letter needs to list off the charges and the authorization numbers. But the store has no authorization numbers, since the transactions all showed up as "declined". Will the bank release the numbers to the store? No. The bank will not release the numbers, but requires them nonetheless. The store calls its own bank, hoping to get the authorization numbers. But the store's bank obviously has no authorization numbers, since the transactions were "declined". The store calls our bank again and begs on bended knee. Can our bank, please oh please, just release the numbers? Please? Yes. Yes they will.

The letter is drafted. The letter is faxed. The bank spends about half an hour fixing the problem. The bank calls back. The situation has been remedied. The card will work now.

The laptop is finally paid for.

Throughout this 2-hour ordeal, J behaves like an absolute angel. He drinks some orange juice. He plays with an inactivated debit machine. He plays nicely with some other children. He converses with other customers, and tells them all about his bears, and his rocks, and his racecar bed, and everything else he can think of. He almost makes up for the fact that he "hit his friends" at daycare today, and had to "spend some time thinking about what his hands are for" as a result. *Sigh!*

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After the situation was resolved and the computer appropriately paid for, H loaded J back into the van and started to drive home. That's when J decided to be especially entertaining.

J: Look!

H looked back at J. And he saw that J had pulled off his boots and socks, and was now wearing his mittens on his feet - a difficult feat, considering that his mittens are attached to his coat sleeves.

They got home. J trudged right through a puddle and got his pants all wet. He came in, and H promptly removed the wet pants. J ran into the living room to see me.

J: Look! I'm naked!

J had a nice, albeit late, dinner. And he had some chocolate as a reward for being such a good boy at the store. H also bought J a Backyardigans DVD, which he will get to watch tomorrow.

But for now, it is time for J to sleep. It is well past his bedtime.

Night night, little man. Sleep well.

Once Upon A Time

J has an activity book. It was given to him by Memaw when he was a baby. He still quite likes it. It's filled with animal pictures and different pull-tabs, and it plays music and makes a variety of noises.

J got home from daycare today. He ate a nice dinner of lasagna ... bribed with promises of chocolate. After his dessert was done, he ran into the living room, activity book in hand:

J: It's bedtime. For you. (Points at Mommy) And you. (Points at Daddy) But not for me! Time for story. (Opens activity book) Once upon a time, there was an elephant and a panda and stars. The end. (Closes book) Now go to sleep.

H: Can we snuggle for a little bit?

J: Yes. (Climbs up on couch and lies down next to H) Oh wait! Time to get a sippy cup of milk! (Climbs down and runs into the kitchen)

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Yesterday, H and J went to Ikea to try to catch a doorcatcher special. I am impressed that they managed to get it, and they returned home with the much sought-after table and chair set for J. Now he has his very own place where he can sit and colour, paint, play with play-doh, etc. It's a very nice table and comes with 4 chairs. J helped H to assemble it. Took much longer that way, but I think H enjoyed spending quality time with his son.

Yesterday evening, K&K came by with D. L&P braved the cat dander and came over with I&G for a visit. Dinner was provided by our good friends, and much fun was had by all. J, D, I, & G all played together, and J's new table was put to good use. Life is good. I'm glad we have good support from our friends and family.

We had intended to show K&K and L&P the progress in our basement. But by the end of the evening, we had forgotten. We'll have to show them another time.

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Basement development is coming along nicely. But it is astounding how much things cost! I was sure we budgeted high when we set our basement budget, but it appears that we actually budgeted low on most things. Every time a bill arrives, I hyperventilate a little bit. I'm sure we'll be okay. I just hate spending money. I'm not used to it, and it makes me panic and shudder.

The framing is almost completely done now. Most of the plumbing work is done, as is most of the electrical. The shower is installed (shower head, tap, and doors are still to come). The first batch of drywall has been delivered. Flooring is already paid for and just needs to be picked up. The fireplace goes in on March 11.

There's still a little bit of framing to do (a closet and some work around ducting). The sink, cabinet, toilet, vent fan, and mirror still need to be installed in the bathroom. And then we have the remaining electric, drywall work, a suspended ceiling, a built-in bookshelf, the trim and finishing work, instalation of flooring, painting. I think that's about it. I hope so, anyway. With me unexpectedly on disability, our finances have taken a slight downward turn, and it's harder to cope.

All temporary. I'm aware. But it's still not a lot of fun to deal with.

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On the subject of my ongoing disability, we had an ultrasound and obstetrician's appointment today. Things are good with Baby. I must continue on bed rest, of course. I'm 26 weeks along now. Baby would not cooperate for ultrasound pictures ... he was busy sucking on his toes and covering his face with his hands. No cute pictures of Baby's face this go-round. But that's ok.

The goal is just to make it as close to term as possible. Thus far, things are looking good, as long as I continue with the bed rest. We do what we have to do. As things stand right now, I may be able to write my exam on March 10. I hope so ... deferring it is a bit of a headache. And I don't really want to prepare for an exam in the next sitting, when I'll have a newborn baby. Not convenient.

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The course I'm currently taking isn't going too bad. Thankfully it's distance ed - I wouldn't be able to go to class in my current condition. Even as it is, I'm behind on readings. But I got 99% on my midterm assignment. Woot! And I've done well enough on the quizzes too. I need something in the realm of a 53% on my final exam in order to pass the course. Aside from the business case assignment, which I hope to complete this summer, this is my last foundation level course. Still a long way to go, though.

I wonder how we'll manage once we add baby #2 into the mix. I'm sure we'll find a way to make this work. Someday, when I get my designation, there will be much rejoicing.

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Anyway, that's enough typing. Nighty-night. It's bedtime. J says so.

Quick baby update

Saw the obstetrician today. I'm still on bed rest - at least until my next appointment, mid-January. And I've had morning sickness so bad that I have actually lost 4 pounds while pregnant. Unless things change quite dramatically, I will be on bed rest until baby is born. At best, I may at some point prior to baby's arrival be allowed limited activity, but it sounds like it would be very limited. The prognosis isn't great just now. We hope baby doesn't come too early. I'm staying very still.

At least baby's growth is on track, and things seem to be going well from that end. My body is creating the problem. But there does not appear to be any problem with our child. So we sit tight and hope that I can hang on.

I'm workin' on it

I'm supposed to send my beloved and most patient sister-in-law a picture CD of J. I'm bad about sending pictures, and my sister-in-law loves to scrapbook so she needs them. Besides, she lives quite far away and would really enjoy seeing photos of her little nephew from time to time.

Every time I promise to send the pictures, things come up and I get so busy I can't find time.

Every. Time.

Tonight, I sat down and spent some time going through all of our pictures. Holy man, are there a lot of them!

I have one more large folder to go through, one more collection to upload from the camera, and likely a couple more Sears picture CDs to copy over. And I should also try and see if I can get any from my M&D's computer, since they've got a lot of good shots of our little guy.

Soon, Holly. Soon, you shall have your picture CD. Of course, there may be more than one!

Faaaaaading

Reading my Economics. Dry, dry, dry, dry, dry.

One more exam review audio lecture to listen to. Eleven more past and practice exams to run. Not quite enough time, I don't think. Something will have to give. And I've got to take a break, 'cause I'm falling asleep here.

H and J are out with J's Grannie today. She just got back into town last night and has been quite badly missed. We have her magazine rack at our house still, and J will periodically run over and drag it into the living room while calling for Grannie. I hope they are enjoying their afternoon out. I'd love to have gone to visit with her also, but I couldn't spend an afternoon away from my books at this stage of exam prep. Soon, though. Very soon, I will be done my exam. And then, my time will be more my own once more. Well, aside from the whole tax season thing. So really, come May I'll be on better ground. I think.

I am so happy that I have next semester off of school! I really needed that break. But I'll be taking Tax over summer. It will be good to get that one over with. But it sure will eat into my summer enjoyment. :(

Okay. Busy week ahead. Back to the books now. Ick!

Weekend in reverse (more or less)

Because the most important thing mentioned in this post just happened, I'll start there.

One of my best friends talked to me tonight. Her dad is in the hospital with chest pains. I want to go over and offer comfort, but she has assured me that she is being well looked after. There are some friends who live nearby, and they should already be there. And my friend's husband is also on his way home. I wish I lived closer to her, but I'm on the opposite end of town and she needs someone who can get there quickly. I will pray tonight, that everything will be okay. I hope to hear that he is just fine.

We have a family funeral tomorrow. H's cousin passed away earlier this month. So it's a sad weekend.

We have begun to make the large purchases that relate to our basement development project. We bought a stackable washer/dryer unit yesterday, and today we bought the furniture that will go downstairs (it's back-ordered, so we should get it in 6 months). I am thankful that we were able to get enough cash to look after all of this. Also, I am thankful that there are sales going on. We got much nicer furniture than we had anticipated, because we happened across a half-price leather sale at a store that was throwing in a Samsung big screen TV on certain clearance items. (And accommodations for 4 days in Cancun as well, though the flight may be a stretch.) We have a few more big-ticket items in our basement budget (bathroom fixtures and such), but will continue to look for sales. So far, we are managing to stay under budget. But of course, we've only just begun to shop. A couple more purchases like we made today could start to push the envelope; we'll have to be more careful in the future.

Today, J was feeling better at last. So we met my birth-mom in Red Deer. She gave J an early birthday present - a Tickle Me Elmo. He really loves his new toy.

Yesterday, we got our new van back. Certain repairs had been necessary. It is in good form now, and we are happy with our purchase.

My voice has returned. I can sing again, though I still have a bit of a rasp. But I'm still really tired.

Behind in Economics. Still. I don't know if I'm going to catch up in enough time to write the final exam. I'll do my best, though. Hopefully I'll get through it all. I'm taking next term off from school; I need the break.

I had a very happy day today. But I am sad just now. I am worried about my friend and her family. She is very special to me, and I want her dad to be okay.

He will be okay.

Such a waste

You were amazing.

You will be missed.

Mountain View

We went to the mountains this past weekend. Had a blast! Despite the fact that little J was sick the entire time, and kept sneezing everywhere.

Here is a photo recap of our trip.

This is where we got to stay:




In Lake Louise:


Kananaskis Country:




Bullwinkle Was Here:


Scenery Shots:





Home Again, Home Again:

Anniversaries, Tonsils, and a Fat Lip

The following post is a writing catastrophe. I don't care.

Well, it was my parents' 50th anniversary this weekend. We went out for dinner with them on their actual anniversary. Tonight, there was a party for all of the extended family. Good Food + Good Family = Good Times.

Or not quite so much.

Tonight, J took a tumble. He didn't exactly fall down the stairs; he fell on the stairs. Early into the evening at my parents' anniversary party. He decided to try to walk down like a big boy and, though we were right there, we just didn't react quickly enough. He fell and banged his head on the hardwood railing, putting his top teeth partway through his bottom lip.

We carried our bleeding little boy up to the bathroom and tried to stop the bleeding and keep the swelling down. We offered popsicles and cold water. He was unimpressed. He cuddled in, rubbing his face against me and smearing blood all over himself and my good outfit. I was glad that I didn't wear the pretty white dress with the blue flowers that I was contemplating; blood will come out of the blue shirt I had on with greater ease.

After J stopped bleeding, he was still in a bad mood. He was hurt and he hadn't slept well today. He was just exhausted. His lip swelled up, and he didn't want to eat anything. He was hungry. He was making strange, and there were many people milling around. And he had a diaper rash, which just can't be comfortable.

He had a dose of Tylenol.

He ran around like a little maniac. He screamed and cried. A few people shot us dirty looks; like we could do anything about the fussing baby. He just would not be happy. We nearly left before food. But we plugged away, managed to eat (H ate first, then I got to eat after) and even partake in some dessert before we took little Mr. Sunshine home for sleep.

He was asleep within 5 minutes. We drove around for a bit just to make sure he was out cold, and then came home. He sleeps peacefully in his crib. I hope his mouth feels better tomorrow.

As for me, the tonsillitis is back. Again. (ACK!) Why won't they take them out? Oh, that's right. Because they are stupid. My throat is bleeding, and it feels like little popcorn shards are cutting into my glands. It's a delightful sensation, I tell you; you should all try it. Well, at least my doctor should try it. I bet he'd have someone take his tonsils out in a big hurry!

I am going to go now. To bed with me. Into the Winnie-the-Pooh nightshirt that I am far too old to continue to wear but insist on wearing anyway since I own it and it is comfy and fits. It makes me feel better, and it's only for sleep anyway. (Though I did wear it as a T-shirt at the grocery store recently; no one batted an eye.) Cuddle up in my nice comfy bed, put my MP3 player on, and ... SNORE!!

It's a good life.

Maybe my tonsils will be a bit better tomorrow. I hope they at least stop bleeding through the night. And I hope J is in better spirits in the morning.

Morning.

Morning is good. Fresh and clean; full of promise. Everything is new, and anything that's gone before is done. Sunrise, and a fresh start.

Yes. Morning. Morning is good.

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad. I love you.

J and the hospital

Well, for the second time in the past year, I have had to take my son to the hospital for testing. I have had to take time away from work. I have had to pay for parking. And I have been told the same thing each time.

There is nothing physically wrong with my son. He can hear; he's just ignoring us. He can eat; he just doesn't want to. Because he is stubborn. Stubborn and headstrong and contrary.

I don't know why he is like that. He must get it from his Auntie Holly.

Skinny

J has lost weight, but gained length. The nurse is not noticeably concerned about it. We just have to feed him more meals and get a bit more protein into him, and check back in about a month. I've been following the feeding guide, but J is apparently a baby who needs more food than that. He's 14 lbs 12-1/2 oz and 25-3/4" long. My long and lean little boy.

His length is such that he is almost out of his infant seat now, so we will be moving him into the big carseat soon.

We checked out the preferred daycare today. It's expensive, but we are confident that they will provide the best care available. I am happy with our decision, but my pocketbook is a bit dissatisfied. Whatever; J is worth it, and we knew he wouldn't be free. A big part of me wishes we wouldn't have to put him into daycare at all, but another part of me thinks it will be good for J to play and interact with other children apart from us. I think he'll gain a lot of independence in a most pleasant environment. So I suppose it will work out; sounds good to me.

H's sister and her family left today to return home. We will miss them a great deal. The kids change so much each time we see them! I wish we all lived closer together.

The house is finally all clean. Except for the office, of course, which is still a sty. I hope to tackle that project soon. I feel really relieved and happy with the condition of the rest of the house. It's so nice to have things clean and neat! Such a fresh and welcoming environment. And we don't have to live in absolute fear that J will injure himself in some bizarre manner. I think we can keep up with the housework now; I hope so, anyway.

My motivation is shot

I should really be working harder on this course. I have a great deal to do still. I'm only about halfway through Module 3. My Module 4 quiz is due by noon on the 11th. But for some reason, I just can't get motivated.

Perhaps it's the holiday season. Or perhaps it is that the cleaning bug has struck both H and I (at long last) and we have noticed that the house is super messy and must be dusted immediately. Or maybe it's just that J has become so much fun to play with. Or our family obligations, which are a fun distraction.

But whatever the reason, I must buckle down and continue with my studies.

I don't want to.

In other news, H's brother is officially wed! The wedding was quite beautiful. They had a friend video-taping for them, and H asked me to try my hand at video-taping it also. My version is comical - sort of a Blair Witch Bootleg version, that misses certain things and catches others. For much of the vows, I was able to capture the back of H's head and occasionally one of the bride's eyes! I hope the other guy had more success getting decent footage. I did take some lovely footage of the twins playing by the candelabra during their mother's reading. I figured that I should capture that moment; it was really cute.

My parents graciously babysat J. He was well-behaved, but he has decided that he will no longer take a bottle; he wants the real thing or nothing at all. We got home, fed him, and put him to bed. Poor tired tyke!