Just don't

I've reached that point, readers. That new-baby-exhaustion point. That wits-end point. That my-husband-goes-back-to-work-tomorrow-and-I'm-afraid-of-my-children point.

I'm stressed. My mom's coming in for a few days, but it won't be the same. Gran is fun. We like having Gran around. It's like there are no rules when she's around. Let's misbehave, 'cause she thinks it's funny and cute. Gran's older, so Mama's not really in charge.

I've been without narcotics for nearly 48 hours. By choice. I haven't filled the script for the good stuff. I may. I just may. Life is better on narcotics. Kidding. Sort of.

Savannah doesn't like to sleep. At all. She's having poop issues. And gas. Me, I'm pooping just fine. Got the first post-partum post c-section poop out of the way. Sure, it felt like I was shitting shards of glass, but it's done. Out of the way. On to the next thing.

The next thing being I'm pretty convinced that I have a brain tumor. For the last 4 or 5 days I've had a headache that would make Jesus himself weep, along with vertigo and distortion of voices in my ears. Brain tumor. The big one, Alice. God gave me two beautiful children, only to kill me with a brain tumor. Thanks, dude.

Baby boy is, I think, starting to come around as far as liking me again. He's still acting awful at times, but I think it's more the terrible twos than anything else. His new favorite phrase, compliments of mama, is "Holy shit." Not ideal, but he heard it enough every time I moved for the last 10 days that he was bound to pick it up. Hey - at least he's incorporating religion into it.

For those of you wondering if you should get pregnant again any time soon, listen to me. If getting pregnant right now will leave you with two children under two, please understand that you'll never eat again, you'll never sleep again, showers just don't exist, you don't change into clean clothes too often, and the amount of guilt you feel for a) telling your older child to shush or keep it down because the new baby is sleeping, b) spending time with the older child instead of the new baby, or c) wanting to chop your husband's balls off so that you never get pregnant again, is very overwhelming and overpowering.

I'm stressed to the max. I'm angry at myself for getting so stressed. I love my babies, more than I ever thought possible, and I wouldn't trade either of them for the world. But I'm terrified that I won't be able to be a good mom to two young children - how am I supposed to continue to teach my son as much as I have when all my time is taken up by the new baby? Is there a manual out there for this stuff?

Starve a fever, feed a c-section

Now that I'm no longer eating for two, I guess it's safe to say that I'm just a pig. I was hoping that my appetite would diminish once I had the baby, but no way - if anything it's gotten a bit bigger.

My deflated two-c-sections-in-two-years stomach depresses me.

I called my OB's office this morning looking for a little reassurance that the amount of pain I'm still in is within the boundaries of normal and not indicative that I have massive organ damage and internal bleeding. Last night was awful, and every time I moved I was afraid I'd leave behind a big pile of uterine stew. They wanted to see me right away - of course - which made me worry that THEY thought I had massive organ damage and internal bleeding. All was well, though, and the verdict was that I'm simply overdoing it. The doctor did say that, despite the common misconception, subsequent c-sections can be harder as far as healing and pain management because everything is more stretched out and can take longer to heal. Why did everyone tell me the opposite, then? Cruel, cruel, cruel. I did, however, walk out of there with a prescription for a stronger narcotic. Sweet. I probably won't fill it, though, because I imagine it will render me unconscious and even more useless than I already am. Still - it's nice to have it in my hand. I could probably sell it for a nice price.

Savannah is one week old today. Hard to believe that I was lying like a slab of meat on a cold steel table this time last week. I know I promised the story of the surgery and hospital stay - it's a-comin', probably this weekend. She's simply amazing. Eats like a champ. Sleeps like an angel, except for the middle of the night feed - then it's party time. All of her 0-3 months clothes are way too big because she's such a peanut. I have no idea where she gets her slight frame from. Baby boy is also a bit petite for his age. Must be the Irish in them. She had a weight check at the doctor's office yesterday, and while I was undressing her I noticed that her cord had fallen off, leaving a gaping bloody hole in the middle of her stomach. The pediatric nurse had to pretty much catch me from nearly fainting at the sight. Baby boy's button actually had to be cauterized because it was so bloody and open. I don't typically have a weak stomach, but seeing it yesterday almost brought me to my knees and my breakfast to the floor.

I want a new camera. I want a camera that will make my photos look fabulous, despite the photographically handicapped person behind it. Any suggestions, readers? I have a Kodak EasyShare C875, and I hate it. It's a thorn in my side. I would love a big, fancy $1000 camera, but I doubt my husband will allow me to blow our stimulus check on a camera.

Baby boy is a monster. I'm pretty convinced that he hates me and is plotting my death, a la Stewie in The Family Guy. He's entering the terrible twos stage already, and combined with his demonic possession adjustment to his baby sister, he's not a fun tot to be around. I hope with all of my heart that it passes, and that it passes soon. It's difficult to not let it all hurt my feelings.

I hate being stuck in the house. No driving for 2 weeks. No travel for 4. Nothing in the vagina for 6. Oh darn. I'm dying to get out of the house, but even going for a walk around the block at this point would be painful. Hubs goes back to work next week and my mom is driving up to spend the week here to help out. I'm hoping by then I can get out for some fresh air and a few moments of quiet time. I'm not quite sure how I'm going to do this alone when my help has gone, but I'm pretending that it won't happen if I don't think about it.

Where'd that prescription go?

Lortab = a little gift from God

I am high as a kite on painkillers right now. I don't remember my first c-section causing this much pain, but oy - it feels like my insides are going to come tumbling right out.

The first installment of Savannah's birth story will have to wait, but since so many of you are interested I thought I'd post another picture. Our first night at home was not bad at all - she's such a good baby! Baby boy, on the other hand - oh Lord. I hope this is all just an adjustment and I get my sweet little boy back. I don't remember giving birth to Rosemary's Baby in October 2006, but he's sure acting like it today!

Until the drugs are out of my system and I can string together more than just a few coherent sentences....

Presenting...

Savannah Irene Grace
May 15, 2008
2:03 p.m.
6 lbs. 12 oz.
20 1/2 in.

We're home. Just got home today. Mama's too tired and too drugged at the moment to share the details, but you can expect a full report, in several installments, over the next few days. It'll start with why I didn't have the c-section on the 14th as planned.

The baby's doing well. Baby boy/Big Brother is adjusting...he seems to love his baby sister, but is also enjoying the process of acting out and ignoring his mama. Our first night home as a family tonight should be interesting. I've got enough painkillers to last me a while, and I've already pooped, so life is grand.

A big thank you for all of the congrats and well wishes!

And away we go....

In just a few short hours, Baby #2 will be here.

Any prayers/good thoughts directed this way would be appreciated - I'm a little nervous about this c-section and recovery.

Stay tuned - I should be out of the hospital on Sunday and will likely post a picture or two.

'Til then....

Thank God I'm not an elephant.

An elephant's gestation period is 22 months. Can you imagine? Surely I'd kill myself.

Yep - I'm still housing this fetus. You thought, perhaps, since I've been missing in action for nearly a week that I'd given birth? No. Not so lucky. We did have a false alarm that sent us to the labor and delivery ward just this past Monday, though - imagine my dismay when they declared me "not in active labor" and sent me on my pathetic little way. Bastards.

The baby is head down - for the first time! Could it be? Should I get my hopes up that I'll go into labor on my own AND she'll be in the correct position? I'm pretty sure God doesn't like me that much, so I'm not getting excited.

I've pretty much reached the end of my rope here, readers. Really. I'm exhausted. I haven't slept more than a few hours each night in weeks. I'm in pain. I'm already mourning the loss of my ability to give my undivided attention to baby boy. I'm terrified of the impending c-section. I learned yesterday that the precautions that were taken during my first c-section to prevent a blood clot (I have a clotting disorder, remember?) will not be taken this time. That leaves me a little nervous. I learned yesterday that I will have my outer incision closed with staples this time instead of sutures. That gives me the creeps. I learned yesterday that I won't be able to pick my baby boy up for 6 weeks after the surgery. He's going to feel emotionally abandoned. He's not going to understand. And how the hell, as a stay at home mom, am I supposed to get away with not picking him up? My husband will be home for a week following the surgery. My mom will be coming to stay for the week after that. Hubs wants to get "someone" to come in to help for the remaining 4 weeks, and by "someone" he's thinking a visiting nurse or somethingone along that line. Sorry, but no half-qualified foreign stranger will be coming into my home to dust my floors, let alone help with my son and baby daughter. He's telling me that we have to figure something out. No need - I'll go about my business, and if I happen to rip my incision, spilling the contents of my body all over my floor just because I need to pick my son up out of his crib - then so be it.

Unless I feel particularly inspired - don't count on it - to blog about something before next Wednesday, the day of the impending c-section of doom, this will likely be my last post as a mama to one. Updates can be expected once she's out. Stay tuned!

Comic relief

It has been a long week. A very, very long week. Full of emotional breakdowns, discomfort, sleep deprivation. The icing on the cake last night for me was watching Grey's Anatomy and having the pleasure of seeing one of the secondary characters involved in a c-section gone bad. Yes, I know it's just a show, but come on. I didn't need that. Not now. I don't know how it ended up, as my husband kindly turned the television off once I burst into tears.

Then today? I sit down at the computer, looking for some internet respite while baby boy naps away, and the main headline on MSNBC.com is about C diff, a bacteria that appears to be infecting every person who walks through the doors of a hospital. Fabulous. Again - I know this stuff exists, but really - did it have to make major news NOW?

As I walked by a mirror earlier this afternoon, simply horrified by the reflection staring back at me and getting ready to plunge deeper into this apparent - and hopefully temporary - state of depression that I'm in, baby boy toddled up with a bag in his hands, held it out to me, and said, "F*ck sack?"

Sure buddy, you can have some fruit snacks. And thanks - I needed that.

18 months

Baby boy, you're officially a year and a half old today. Where did this time go? How can you possibly be on your way to turning 2? It seems like only yesterday that you were growing in my belly, and your daddy and I were so excited to meet you.

You're the most amazing creature on this planet, and as you grow up I will never let a day go by without you knowing that, and without you knowing how much I love you and how special you are to me. Even when you reach those difficult ages and stages, I will always make sure you know.

You're a pretty funny little guy, you know that? You make me laugh so much! You started calling me lubby dubby (lovey dovey) the other day, and it melted my heart. Just moments ago, as I rocked with you in your chair, you fell asleep with your hand resting on my chest and your head resting on your hand. For me to look down and see that sight was a wonderful gift, and I thank you. You see, you fell asleep that exact way when you were a newborn and had just finished eating. I loved to see it then, and I remember those days all too well - to be brought back there, even for a moment, was wonderful.

You have become SUCH a picky eater. You never fail to let me know your displeasure with what I've put on your plate. It usually ends up on the floor if it's something you're not crazy about. You've recently discovered hot dogs and cheeseburgers, and you ask for them constantly, along with a-dunk-a-dunk (ketchup). Geeps (grapes) are your favorite fruit right now, and you love to declare grapes and berries "sour." Mealtimes are definitely frustrating at times, but always fun.

You love playing with your choo-choo trains. You love to color on everything BUT paper. Your love for reading is something that I hope will never change. You have a very impressive bottlecap collection for a little guy, and it's one of the first things you look for when you come downstairs in the mornings. You have quite the temper. Your vocabulary is extensive and amazing - even your doctor is impressed! You like to bonk your head or finger on purpose, just so that mama will kiss your boo-boo. You enjoy picking flowers for me outside. You love to destroy the ant hills outside. You have a fascination with stones. And with washing your sucker - you'd wash it all day if we let you! You have so much fun doing the smallest things, and it's a joy that I hope you maintain all throughout your life.

You're SO smart, buddy. So smart. You have an amazing ability to conceptualize things that I imagine are a little unusual for such a young age. You pick up new words and ideas and skills on a daily basis, and there are times when your daddy and I just look at each other with shocked expressions, wondering how you got to be the way you are. I love having the chance to stay at home with you all day. Sure, sometimes your cranky days become my cranky days, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Things are going to change a bit around here very soon. I feel so sad about that. I'm so sad that our time together as just the two of us during the day won't be as plentiful as it is now. I'm so scared that you're going to be confused, or hurt, or think that you're being replaced. I hope you know that you will always, always hold a most special place in my heart, one that is reserved for you and only you, my first child. If it means I'll never sleep again, I promise you that we will have our time together. I promise you that nothing - nothing - will ever change the way I love you, the way your laugh and your smile brighten my every day, the way I wish I could hold you in my arms forever. I hope that you see your baby sister as a sort of gift, someone to share your hopes and dreams and plots against mama and daddy with. Someone other than mama and daddy to play with. I hope you'll be close. I hope that you and I don't lose our mama-baby bond, something that I've worked very hard these last 18 months to build and maintain.

I hope that you know this - you are loved.

Happy 18 months, baby boy. You'll be my baby 'til you're old and gray. I bought a book for you when you were very very new, and I've never been able to read it to you because it makes me cry. There's a song in it, though, that the mama sings to her baby boy, and I've said it to you many times:

I'll love you forever
I'll like you for always
As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be.