Happy friggin 4th!!!

Hubby is scheduled to fly out early morning on the Fourth of July and I’m not going to lie- it sucks!

But we are not going to let that keep us from the fun-oh no!

We have a full day of celebration planned this year. We are going to a parade (have never seen a real live American parade before and am really excited!!) in our neighborhood and fireworks by the beach (love fireworks) and we are bringing grandma and grandpa (and hopefully uncle, aunt and cousins as well) along! I have bought food for a family BBQ and festive paper plates, cups and utensils as well as quite a few Independence Day decorations! I have also laid out matching flag colored outfits for myself and all the three kids! The weather promises to be warm and sunny but not too hot. Maybe we can swim in the pool and grandparents can take the littlest baby so that I actually get to cool down and splash around as well. I can’t wait to spend some much needed quality play time with my kids!

I’m in high spirits; baby’s first fourth- lets do this!!!

And then darling daughter wakes up with a fever and then an extremely runny (smelly, leaky) diaper….
Which after breakfast leads to another…and another…with the mood to follow!
Can you say; complete toddler meltdown!

So yeah, we wave bye bye to daddy dearest (oh yeah; thanks for leaving me Hun!) as I rapidly begin to understand that nobody is going to want to hang out with us on this very special day…

Holiday or not, kids get sick and there is nothing you can do about it. I cancel all our plans with friends as well as family. It’s all good, we will make it work, it is just the crankiness and the overwhelming loneliness I feel when kid number two starts throwing up…

I order in food, but right now I only have one kid willing to eat and that would be the one without any teeth!

Its not like I have time to eat anything anyways, I’m running around like a mad woman, and strangely enough the idea of eating while people around me (and on me) are vomiting (and dry heaving) does not seem that appetizing…

I stream YouTube videos on the tv and keep changing diapers, smearing diaper rash cream, wiping butts as well as tears and pushing fluids.

I desperately stage some photos in memory of this “special” day of all my little kiddos in their outfits (good thing my “fancy” camera snaps dozens of photos in seconds because there are no willing participants and especially my daughter will not stand for it) on the patio- which turn out more sad than funny (keeping up the facade right…or not).

I change them out of their celebratory clothes right after our private little (disastrous) photo shoot scared any nasty fluids will make the nice outfits filthy (the washer and dryer already working overtime).
Of course my toddler throws another tantrum wanting to keep her red, white and blue Tommy Hilfiger dress on…

Let’s just say I’m in for a long night…

The kind of night where in between nightly nursing session (and they are plenty) I have to change sheets twice (we are now out of sheets that fit our bed), wrestle as well as share said bed with not one, not two, but three sweaty, germy kids (good thing I love them). I also have one of them throw up as I brush their teeth-after having thrown up…Hate when that happens!

I’m laying awake in our big bed (that suddenly feels small and cramped) when all the kiddos are finally asleep listening to each of their individual breathing patterns, (one arm around my beautiful daughter and another around my littlest man, while my big helper sleeps by my feet…for some reason) listening to their little whimpers and snores and my heart fills with so my love that I can hardly stand it…

Yes, they are a handful, and messy and smelly and oh so loud but at the end of the day I am just so so grateful to have them! Grateful that they are here with me, healthy and happy and whole (even with a nasty stomach bug) . They are my biggest accomplishments; who would have knows after my degrees and my diplomas that being a mommy would make me feel so important, so proud and so extraordinary!

Hope you had a great 4th of July this year everyone-I did despite it all (I have to admit it was pretty bad…and sad). I had a holiday I didn’t expect, one that I didn’t see coming and I was all alone to handle it all. But I think maybe that we have all been there one time or another and anyways; isn’t that what us mothers do…? We care and we fix…and we handle!

Too late I realize there in the pitch black room (while my five year old is mumbling something about Star Wars and transformers in his sleep) that I forgot to cancel the swim instructor-scheduled to come first thing in the morning…

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Between a rock and a hard [head] place!

I drive as fast as I dare, freaking myself out when I’m allowing myself to think at every stop sign and red light. After I park haphazardly across two parking spots, I grab the kiddos telling them that we have to hurry to make sure big brother is okay!

I run with my littlest bumping against my stomach (still that stubborn belly looks about four months pregnant, seriously…) in his carrier. Baby girl’s little legs can barely keep up with me and I keep squeezing her hand to follow along, but it’s like she knows this is serious so she is not whining or complaining.

When I reach the camp site I catch my breath and it’s like I can’t breathe again until I see him…

Playing …

He seems fine, running around with his friends. I stop to ask the camp leader what really happened. The story is scary really. The rock that another boy threw on my son’s head looks huge. I close my eyes for a second, thanking God that he is okay.
His leader tells me he was dizzy after the accident and had to lay down, they also iced his bump for a good half hour. At least the boy throwing the rock didn’t mean to. It was truly an accident and they were just playing (dragons apparently…). I do have time to think (which I realize is a little nuts…but I always kind of go there…) “I’m glad it wasn’t MY son throwing the rock”…

The camp director had told me to call my son’s doctor just in case, (hopefully out of genuine care and concern not only liability) because the rock was so big and it did make him fall to the ground and made him groggy afterwards.
As I collect my son (and all his stuff), my two other little ones are being really good. As we are walking with his friend and her mom (and my friend) towards the car his legs does look wobbly and he falls down when trying to play with her on the top of the hill by the parking lot. He tells me that “everything is still spinning”…
And that would be my cue to call the doctor…
Better safe than sorry for sure!

Unfortunately his doctor is out of town but another doctor will see him as soon as we are able to come, they take head injuries like that very seriously (even though his bump isn’t that big-it’s not about the bump on the outside…). We have to cancel ice cream with our friends and head straight for the doctors’ office.

The new female doctor is completely serious and has my son go through a series of tests where he has to walk in a straight line, move legs and arms certain ways and follow her fingers with his eyes. He is acting tired and tells her he feels faint so she has him laying down and we all get to wait until he feels better. I guess I make a face like “really it can’t be that bad”… Because she gives me a stern look and tells me that my son has a concussion and that I need to be very cautious as well as concerned and as long as he is feeling tired, faint and disoriented we will have to stay in the doctors’ office.
I assure her that I’m taking my son’s condition very seriously and that I AM in fact concerned…its just that it’s really hard to just “hang out” here with two other little ones…

My two years old is hungry and cranky and I’m trying to nurse the baby while she is yelling that she want to go home. My oldest is uncharacteristically quiet, laying down, which does worry me.

Two hours, a tantrum, three poopy diapers and some random spit up and clothes changing later the doctor is finally willing to let us go. Before she does so I have to sign some papers basically promising to take him straight to the ER if he starts acting funny, to keep him still (hmm) for the next week (yup; not a problem whatsoever…) and the dangers of a second blow to his head (brain bleed…ok time to get on board with the scariness of the situation). I listen to the doctor and I sign, collecting my three very, tired, hungry and whiny kids (I’m exhausted myself).

Everyone is gone for the day, the office and lobby empty, dark and quiet. I take my son “potty” (an older woman pointing out as she leaves that maybe he is old enough to go to the men’s restroom by himself…soo not the time lady…) and change the other two’s diapers before we leave the building (hoping that they will not lock us in here while we are in the bathroom). Luckily we make it out okay and head straight for Whole Foods (aka “whole paycheck” I know) buying the kids ridiculously expensive snacks and juices as well as really yummy pizza!
My son is chatting away, teasing his little sister and tickling his little brother at the table we struggled to get to outside, stroller, pizza, groceries, kids and all…
I’m just grateful he is okay!!

We are now gearing up for a quiet and really restful (!) week at home-heading for the 4th of July with tons of fun plans before daddy goes out of town for work for another week…

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Right after

 

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The day after

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Super mom and hard heads…

I love having three kids, I always, always wanted THREE!! Didn’t I mention that before, no?

But seriously this baby is so dreamy it doesn’t feel at all like the other two (can I say that…?). Yes, I might be older and more sleep deprived and I have two older ones this time around, but it’s like he knows this (taking it easy on his mama) with every toothless grin. His smiles make my heart melt every time and he smiles way more than he cries. He is still only two months old but he is quite the charmer and so easy going. I’m not comparing here (would never) but…

When we are out and about our little (big) baby just tags along. His big brother loves to love on him (this is also the kid with major boundary issues..but the biggest heart..but baby boy doesn’t seem to mind/quite the opposite…more toothless grins) and his sister wants to change, clothe and bathe him (no I don’t let her…she is two, people!) -but mostly she wants me to put him down somewhere (no smiles here), so I can carry her instead!

Everywhere I go, I get compliments. It’s very flattering really, it’s not like I have an obscene amount of kids-I mean some people have four or even more (and seem to juggle them just fine). Those moms (and/or dads) are the true heroes (my husband is one of five for example). I go to Subway (sandwich place my oldest son is particularly fond of), nursing the littlest, while trying to break off a food fight between the older two and calm down the yelling (5 year old) and the random requests turned tantrums (2 year old). This mom comes up to our table and out of nowhere she tells me I’m amazing and that she only has ONE two year whom she can barely handle. It feels nice and kinda needed.

This is one of the things I love about Americans, their ability and ease of complimenting total strangers! I mean they so don’t need to.

 

 

At Ikea the other day (represent!) a lady totally gets out of her way to tell me I should get “the mother of the year award” (as I roll a cart full of stuff as well as my two year old, baby in the carrier, preschooler in one hand-ordering hotdogs, pizza AND ice cream; hey! Don’t judge!!). A Swede (and I am one) would never (never say never) do this and I really appreciate it!

Today I drop off at camp, even though my son has received his third and final warning-hoping against all odds that they let him stay (let’s just say we BOTH need him too) and this mom tells me I’m so awesome for getting three kids ready in the morning and for still being on time (kind of). I thank her, but she probably has no idea how much this means to me. A couple of nice words can really make a difference! (Thanks again nice camp mom with the Cali hat and purple yoga pants!)
The drop off goes smoothly to all our surprise but it’s not the usual girl checking us in! The guy who does gives me strange looks as I wait around, easing my way backwards towards the car, expecting them to call me back to get my little short delinquent any moment, but nothing! Yes!

Not so fast…

I’m on the phone Skyping with my mom once I’m back home with my two little ones, when an unfamiliar Arizona number pops up on my phone. I usually don’t answer weird numbers but as soon as I miss the call I fear it might be from my son’s camp.

As I listen to the voicemail-I’m filled with dread. It’s the camp director and she is telling me to come get my son right away…

Not because he is in fact kicked out or has done anything wrong, no… quite the opposite- he is the one who is hurt…

“It’s his head mom” I yell, “he got hit, he is dizzy and laying down, telling them his tired (tired…MY son?). I have to get him right away”. As I’m  running around, changing the baby (kinda had to be down), letting the dog inside and strapping two kids into their car seats, I fear the worst-he got hit in the head and I brought him there. I brought him to this camp. I brought him there even though he had three warnings and we were told three warnings meant that you are kicked out…
Maybe it was a sign…I took him anyways…
What if this injury is way worse than they told me…

lost boy and various leakage…

 

Talking about special moments, hubby and I have started our exercise regime again (they don’t call it “working” out for nothing).
Let me tell you, it is brutal. I’m so incredible sore after doing next to nothing and it’s just so disappointing!
On top of that I seem to have completely lost my abs. They are far gone, and I worked so hard to gain them back after our princess was born. I was actually in pretty good shape after becoming pregnant with number three…
Now he is sitting there in sister’s pink baby bouncer, happy as can be with his toothless grins, while we work out, so it is impossible not to think it’s worth it (a million times over of course).
If he would only sleep more at night as to not turn mommy into a day time zombie (read; for example only shaving one leg in the shower…twice in a row…and yes, unfortunately it WAS the same leg).

I’m worried about driving my kids around in this state of acute sleep deprivation but oldest has his adventure camp! That is going okay so far but I know it’s early yet and since it’s his first week, he is still charming everyone with his big brown eyes, blond (nearly white) hair, crooked smile and smooth talking (yep, he can charm his way out of everything – until you catch on). This is totally his honeymoon phase! (Camp leaders are still smiling…I’m not about to warn them but my insides are screaming “you just wait…” While on the outside I’m also smiling, thanking them for their compliments about my son…soaking it all in-while I can!)

Today after picking him up from camp (after an early morning of getting three kids ready and a couple of hours of just having two kids-both refusing to nap with me) I have the brilliant idea of taking us all grocery shopping! (Well we are out of numerous essential, you know such as diapers and…Apple juice…my kids are “Apple juice-oholics” shush don’t tell the perfect “no juice mommies” not even the organic, “only sugar from fruit” kinds).

As I pull up to camp, both kids are sleeping (of course they are). The older one crying hysterically when I lift her out of the car brutally waking her. She is naturally refusing to walk claiming her “legs don’t work” but I need to get her little brother. As I carry her around the car, I try to explain this to her, hmm, yeah to a two-year old! I was on time, even slightly early but now I’m getting late (of course I am).

I run, half way dragging my “terrible two-er” while bouncing my little guy in the baby carrier, out of breath towards my son’s group leader. How weird, why isn’t she smiling today?
“Yes, okay, I understand, we will totally tell him about this at home and about the seriousness of staying with the group, not running away and to listen to the group leaders, yes, yes, of course, yes!”
Well, okay, hm!
As I walk, a little less bouncy back with my little loves another mom start sniffing around me announcing that somebody sure is smelly (sigh), while another mom chimes in “smelly belly” (big sigh), “someone has made a poo poo” (huge…)
Okay, I guiltily start smelling my two youngest kiddos. It’s the littlest one and I have to agree it does smell nasty (for only eating breastmilk this guy sure both poops and smells a lot).

I trek over to the restroom, only finding the men’s (oh well, while at camp!)
Of course there is no changing table and the floor is well, really dirty. I can’t go back out there with mr. Smelly pants, otherwise I would have changed him in my car (but not ready for that particular “walk of shame” at the moment).

I put my poor baby Bjorn carrier down on the bathroom floor after having wiped it off (the floor not the carrier-that WAS clean) with a wet paper towel (this is not easy mind you with three little ones in tow, infant boy hanging haphazardly while I mop the ground (not nearly good enough). Then I put the sheer dinosaur swaddle blanket on top of the carrier and finally the baby (who is not happy about this development).

Its not only a stinky one but a leaky one as well (great!) and it ends up being impossible not getting it all over the blanket…
I ask my older son if he needs to go potty, you know while we are here and sniff my daughters diaper too- but no, all good there!

Changing this diaper would go much faster if the toddler isn’t screaming in my ear while hitting her brother-who yells for me to hurry up because there are people waiting (really…) and that I really shouldn’t be in here because this is after all the MEN’S restroom (reeeaaallly)- the only thing appeasing my daughter is “to fix my hair” violently while I’m down on all fours-at a dirty men’s bathroom at a kid’s camp cleaning up poop…
Well you get it, right?

Almost all the way back to the car my oldest announces; I have to go poop!
Very pleased with himself…

We go all the way back, now finding the Women’s restroom a little closer but of course he won’t go there-oh no!
Then we wait for what seems like a really long time. How I manage to keep the little ones entertained beats me-all I know is littlest boy gets some milk and girly gets extremely muddy at the same time. I start thinking about whether I have an extra towel in the car I can put her on..and how bad she will look at the store (read dirty and neglected).

All the way back at the car, guess who smells awful?

Checking her, something brown is seeping thru her pants…and it’s NOT the mud…

The car now smells terrible because I refused to trek back to that restroom again (or any other restroom).

At the store they are all getting on my last nerve. Typically sweet and easy going baby boy has had enough, now loudly announcing that he hates the baby carrier…grocery shopping (apparently) and life in general with desperate wails and heartbreaking sobs in between, only to gain enough energy for more wails! The older kids do not want to be in the cart but drive it! – need I say more??
Such good helpers!!!

I leave my oldest son with the cart to go down the aisle to grab some rice (the good basmati kind…you know not laced with arsenic), holding my girl’s hand and trying to bounce and ignore my miserable baby at the same time.

While picking the rice I hear a store employer’s concerned voice “I’m so sorry your mom left you, we will do anything to help you find her, don’t worry my poor, sweet little man”. I have time to feel sorry for the mom, the kid probably was being a brat and ran away from her or something and this store employer is laying it on thick guilting that poor mom.

As I turn around I see that it IS my son chatting with the store worker, tears running down his face and all…

I raise my voice (scaring my two other kids)
“But I’m right here, I told you to watch the cart so I could go and get rice…
I’m in the SAME aisle”….

My face red-hot, I grab my son, mumble thanks to the confused women trying to help him, leaving the cart.

As I get my bearings, retrieving the cart, because you know we NEED those things, my breasts start to leak, spraying milk right through my dress (and it is not black), dripping down the front while I’m trying to juggle three kids AND pay for our groceries!

Pool Parties and Preschool Graduations

The last day of preschool approaches and the “class moms” (including the one that called me rude about a year ago) have organized a graduation party. I was able to get back into their good graces by smiling more (no more bitchy resting face-it IS a thing people!) and by being more chatty, engaged and interested (even though I’m so not..). I got mixed results, but one being, the other moms at least greeted me and would even throw out a random question here and there, and take some interest in my pregnancy and then newborn (not AS interesting since labor went flawlessly…am I’m being mean and bitter now…?) I did it all for darling son of course. But then said “darling son” goes and tells his entire class (12 boys and two girls) about his birthday party and that they are naturally invited each and everyone of them!…except they are not, not one of them. He has apparently told them all the details of his Pirate Pool Party so that the next time his teacher (miss butterfly in the butterfly class…) tells me I’m such and angel for inviting the whole, entire class! (Yep…angel!!!) and the class mom’s twin boys are dancing and screaming “pool party, pool party, pool party” jumping up and down with glee!
I try to get a word in but am very unsuccessful. After the fact – meaning AFTER the party where not one of his preschool class friends attended/were invited (WHAT? I’m not friends with these parents, I don’t know them whatsoever, we have just moved…into another community and our son is moving on to another school in another part of town in the fall…and truly we have enough with a large family and his little Swedish friends! Wait…are you still judging??) I lamely tried to tell the class mom and the teacher as said son said he had the best party EVER (well, that is just awesome…but…) that it was mostly just close family…
“Yes mom was worried because SOO many people were invited so we needed TONS of food, two cakes and lots of stuff…we had like 50 guests…” Ooookay!
Back on the s*it list I’ll tell you!

Our baby boy is already seven weeks and almost two months old, where did the time go? My oldest is now graduating from preschool which I guess it’s pretty big! I can’t believe he starts school next year (even if it’s only kindergarten, we didn’t think he was ready but he has matured so much and has so much language now, maybe it’s just his parents who aren’t ready…). Big boy wears a cap and gown (even if the gown is just a small white sheet…or hmm table cloth, with a hole for the head). First ceremony of many, it’s a little silly I know but I actually like this kind of silly, I like how Americans embrace celebrations and (sometimes) go over the top, and as I look around the church at this, my sons preschool graduation, I sob with the best of them (to my defense you not only get extra emotional while pregnant but also while breastfeeding!…google it! The struggle is real). The whole family dresses up so nicely and we are immensely proud of our boy-even if he does keep his head down, starring at the ground both as he walks in and out, shouts in the microphone and keeps asking his teacher what he is suppose to say (instead if answering questions about his favorite things to do at preschool etc ” WHAT DO I LIKE AGAIN?” .

This preschool graduation party at a nearby park went “so-so” if you know what I mean. I was “politely” told not to breastfeed so close to the kids, completely ignored after having answered the question where our son would attend kindergarten, and got many eye rolls for various things. I even overheard some moms taking behind my back about how I think I am “all that” “, so catty and also so not true!

I wouldn’t even care (I truly evolved in that department…from caring what EVERYONE thought…) if it didn’t affect my son. Even kids this young pick up on these things…
I even have the audacity to ask one of the moms to keep an eye on my oldest while I change a particularly bad toddler diaper in the park’s bad excuse for a restroom while my infant hangs low from the baby carrier as I try to wipe and change his sister (not the easiest task mind you). Even though my 5-year old is in the same spot where I left him (unfortunately being a little rough with other boys, at least they are being rough right back) I still get more eye rolls.

As we leave the class mom with her mom pose yell out that they will probably never see us again now that we moved on to (dripping with sarcasm here) “bigger and better things”…
If my get away was smooth it might have been a good wrap up, but of course I have to stump my big toe on a picnic table (it freaking hurt) and then as I drive away I go completely over the high curb with my big new SUV…(very smooth)  Oh well, the kids thought it was cool (even if I almost had a heart attack and thought I hit something at the loud thump)…

We have such a long, fun summer planned ahead. Even if I know it will be a lot with a newborn and my husband’s busy, hectic work schedule meaning I will be alone with all three kids a lot, I know we will enjoy having those special moments together..

Clean bill of health, missed calls and appointments …

I have already missed a couple of phone calls and a handful of texts from my husband by the time I stroll baby and myself into waiting room number two on the fourth level. He is obviously worried that he will miss his next appointment and frankly at this point, so am I. I get called about fifteen minutes after my appointment time and sure if this takes less than ten minutes he could still make it…but somehow I doubt it. As I’m waiting in the room (slightly nervousness to see the “stupid” nurse, or rather the nurse I called stupid…several times…not knowing that she overheard, walking just a few feet behind me, again). I quickly text my husband to get to the fourth level parking and park his car next to mine to make the transition easier once I’m done (it will be worth the parking fee if he makes it back to work on time).

I hear the nurse getting my chart and telling the other nurse that she is ready to see me next. Great! Maybe we are in luck today and I will get cleared, and fast! I can’t wait to get back to “regular” life (well, you know as regular it can get with three kids five and under…) and for this to be an easy check-up without any drama, health issues or complications. It is about now my baby starts crying, well excuse me, wailing would be the more accurate term. The first nurse pops her head in the room to tell me that I am up next and to marvel over how huge my baby is! Since they are a speciality clinic for high risk pregnancies only, they are usually used to premature babies (meaning tiny, and he is definitely not that). Even though he is average in size they see him as ginormous being used to babies not fully cooked yet and I hear her telling the other staff how big he is, but also how cute! He would be even cuter if he stopped killing my ear drums, what do I do here? It’s kind of hard to feed him while you are laying basically naked on a “bed” legs  wide spread high up in the air…
This is precisely why I feed him BEFORE we left the car for this appointment.

I’m sure the next knock means nurse Stupid is ready for me…

But no, there she is again, the first nurse, telling me I have to pick the poor baby up, they can hear him all the way out in the waiting room. I try to tell her that he is fine, he has been feed and I’m really in a hurry, without sounding like the worst mom ever, but to no avail…
I can’t believe she is giving me the “always pick your infant up when he is crying speech” ESPECIALLY if he is under three months old…
“I’ll just be back after you have nursed him”…
“No wait, wait, wait, this will only literally take two minutes” (because my kiddos are fast eaters and you know, he HAS been fed)…

Two minutes obviously turn into twenty, I even go looking for the nurse (or anybody that can help me really) with my now perfectly happy , smiling baby! No one is willing to take a peak between my legs (hm, that is truly their job here and nothing odd mind you) to just give me a quick bill of health so I can get out of here and tend to my kiddos and release my poor (not so much) husband from his daddy duties. My hubby is naturally freaking out and have left another five-ten slightly hysterical messages on my phone. I quickly call him (under the huge “no cell phone zone” sign) in the little room to let him know that I haven’t even been seen yet!!
Well, now that was popular! He needs to call someone to cover his appointment but is still hopeful that he can make it for the end of it since he really apparently needs to make an appearance for this one!

I tell him to take both kids out of the car, to take the older one potty and change the younger one’s diaper while they wait for me to get done and then stay out in the hall- nobody want the two (three) of them in the waiting room!

Nurse “close your eyes or you’ll see it” finally shows up (she obviously saw another patient before me) and can you believe that the other nurse is telling her that I had a boy “you know she didn’t know what she would have, she didn’t find out until he was born!!…everybody was able to keep it a secret…” Really rubbing it in. I totally avoid eye contact and she is with me, ignoring the blabbering nurse who is no addressing how big my baby BOY is!

Since the examination room is so tiny we have an issue with the stroller. If I lay down on the bed with it extended we really can’t fit, two nurses, stroller and all and I’m not too excited about leaving my baby with another nurse. The two nurses in the room with us start rearranging the room as they apologize that they at so busy so that this is the only room available. I lay there completely naked under a sheet made out of tissue paper (that crinkles every time I move slightly) my legs pulled up to fit in the bed while they move stroller, chairs and the bed with me on it. They end up moving the desk and the chair out in the waiting room (I’m serious! …a couple of new missed calls from that husband of mine…and a text; they are apparently out in the hallways-kids running amok!)

When nurse “IT” is finally positioned in between my legs, the lamp she needs to see better doesn’t work. While the other nurse scrambles for a flashlight (you heard me), I tell her about the painful torn stitch and the excessive bleeding as well as having the bleeding come back after it completely stopped. She tells me she will look to see if everything healed, do a Pap smear and that it is absolutely not my period coming back since I just gave birth and I’m exclusively breastfeeding. She also gives me a heads up that if I get cleared, to not do anything (you know) without protection- since I’m refusing the pill due to the possibility of my milk going away. Because even if nursing makes it pretty safe (very safe actually) it is NOT a 100% and we are not ready for number four just yet…are we?

Here she is with a flashlight at the same time as my husband officially has missed his work appointment!

While I’m doing some pretty impressive yoga moves in the tiny room and finally gets a clear bill of health, baby starts crying again and as I meet up with the rest of my family, my husband seem close to tears as well…

It seems to be less about his missed appointment and more about having to take care of some pretty crazy kids…

Six week check-oops!!


So picture this, I’m now alone with three kids, a needy newborn, a terrible two-er and an attention seeking and picky preschooler. I need to get them in and out of the car, in and out of the bath, in and out of their clothes (and diapers for two of them), in and out of the house…grocery store, preschool, camp, pool, play dates…well, you get it! And it’s NOT easy. It’s hard to do anything before someone poops (or has to poop) or eats or naps or throws a tantrum.

Talking about tantrum, my sweet angelic daughter seemed to just wake up one day-not sweet AT ALL. It’s seems so cliche but “no” is now her favorite word and she is using it like no other. That, maybe I could handle, but the high pitch screams (accompanied by tears…lots of tears and oh yeah, snot…tons of snot) that go with the nos… Not so much. They wake up the baby, they scare the dog, they annoy her big brother and the headache they give me…
I’m confused because she was truly “the easy one”, what the heck happened? She doesn’t want to do anything I say, even if I’m trying to be tricky mommy and use reverse psychology, nothing seem to work. Add a first born demanding five year old and a colicky six week old to the mix, and there you have it! A piece of cake!

Getting ready in the morning is a bit of a nightmare. With all the wants and needs and opinions we are lucky we even make it out the door, let alone anywhere we are trying to be. On time? Forget about it. There should be an extra twenty-forty minute grace period given to mothers, because hello! Car seats and diaper bags, strollers and snacks, change of clothes and change of attitudes…
And then we have the poop and drool, pee and spit up, dirt and grease and mess and spills. All of this would be fine without the blood chilling screams (even the baby can escalate to a level ten in less than five seconds), the ferocious fights, the strong wills, the mind games, lies and manipulations. Yes I’m talking about little people here- 5 and under, because let me tell you, they are smart. They can outsmart you in a minute, playing on your heartstrings like little experts!

The Thursday after my mom leaves (how could you leave me like this!?) I have my six week check-up at my OBGYN doctors office. I’m meeting with the same registered nurse telling me to “close my eyes or I’d see IT”, the same one I called stupid repeatedly (not to her face…I didn’t know she was walking behind me…same results though). I’m nervous (what if I haven’t healed, what if I can’t get back to normal, what if she hates me?) yet excited (I know I’ve healed even if I had a set back with the ripped stitch-yup-totally painful! I’m telling you don’t bend to unlock that stroller before you are ready!! I know I can get back to normal and even if she hates me just a little bit she can’t deny me that!)

I had no one to watch the kids so we are trying to fit this check-up in during my husband’s lunch break (shouldn’t take that long, right!?). We plan to meet at a gas station down the street from the hospital so we don’t have to pay for parking twice and so we don’t have to haul three kids into a hospital (still not an ideal hanging place for small kids, one of them a newborn). I thought they had a “subway” (sandwich place) inside the gas station but it was a “sub marina” (five year old had a minor meltdown) which was closed anyways, so “mini mart” food it is. I’m desperately looking for something semi-healthy looking at the brown bananas and sad looking apples up front, settling for some cheese cubes and chocolate milk (what? At least it’s calcium) and they each get a treat (well the littlest one will have to settle for mama’s milk) in the form of puffs for sissy and a slurpy for big brother. It’s a hot day and I feel sweaty and stressed as I’m trying to maneuver a feisty toddler who wants puffs AND ice cream, her brother who is in full blown “helping mode” wanting to hold all our items AND pour his own “slurpee” drink, while I’m holding the littlest one who wants his own special “mama cocktail” full on fish lips searching, bumping his head into me while grunting increasingly loudly (crazy mommy and her kids already causing some stares).

As we sit outside next to an extremely greasy Mexican food place right next to the actual gas pumps I’m starting to worry that this is really not the scenery for three little kids-daddy better hurry. My oldest slurps his slurpy, steals some of his sisters puffs and some of my pretzels then announces loudly that daddy doesn’t like when I give him fast food…wait, what? That is not what this is, right!?

…hmm?!

Dad shows up taking the two oldest in his car, figuring he can drive around for awhile while I get the a-okay! And then I will return back to him in plenty of time for his next appointment, as good as new. I quickly realize that I shouldn’t have brought my large stroller to this particular appointment, the waiting rooms are small and I remember that the actual examination rooms are even smaller. I can’t even opens doors while swiftly (usually) getting the stroller inside without help and the waiting area is overflowing with “third trimesters” and their loved ones…
Once I’m in the office on the first floor there is a wait and when it’s finally my turn, I get sent upstairs because they are crazy busy! I take the stroller into the elevator on my way to the forth floor. Uh-uh this will be a long one…

Lumber jacks,being outnumbered and best comment after pushing a human being out of your body..

imageimageSirens are wailing and I don’t know if I should start panicking or what? I’m pretty drowsy after you know a “little bit of childbirth” (besides, I’m starving) and the nurse looks around at the big guy who is maneuvering the enormous bed towards the elevator. He is actually laughing asking her “what, are you new here?”‘ I don’t get it? What in the world is he smirking about? What kind of alarm is that?

The nurse looks so ashamed as she quickly types something on a stationary computer near the delivery wing’s exit doors at the same time as she hurriedly whispers something in her walkie talkie phone. We back up, me and my brand new son get wheeled backwards through the exit door again in the giant bed. I don’t get it until I overhear her apologizing about it. Each newborn gets an alarm around their ankle (their very own ankle bracelet…not very fashionable by the way). My nurse has totally forgotten to disarm the “low jack” (not the lumber jack which I later call it, creating some confusion with my husband.)

We have a long night ahead. Baby is unusually “aware” for just being born, already refusing to sleep alone and crying a lot…
I couldn’t have made it without the nicest nurse (opposite from the old nag who I get the next day-trying to tell a mother of three -that’s right!-what to do with her baby)
This one lets me go to bathroom (because I really have to go and my catheter is out) even though my epidural hasn’t worn off completely yet (I swear I can feel everything-this is a piece of cake…) She half carries me to the toilet even if I insist I can walk. Then she lets me sit there for an hour (honestly) because the thought of my acid urine coming anywhere close too…well you get the point…terrifies me! She even gives my tiny boy a bath while I sit there squirting warm water with a plastic water bottle in my neather regions to make me pee “comfortably”.

The next day the two siblings can’t quite contain their excitement as they come tumbling into the hospital room. Their daddy tries and mostly fails to keep an eye on them as they both want to hold THEIR baby NOW! Big sister keeps screaming MINE. Grandma is there to help me keep them from pushing buttons, not sitting on me (ouch) or grabbing their quite defenseless little brother from his plastic see through crib (he won’t have it easy with these two as siblings).

We take tons of pictures (I look pretty darn awful in most-if not all of them) and the proud big brother (“mama, I tooold you it was a boy in there”) and the curly haired big sister with the huge innocent blue eyes (let me tell you:not so innocent that one) get plenty of cuddle time with our new addition!
When the newness wear off, it’s back to stealing my hospital food (I finally got some!), pushing buttons, trying to sit on me (not my lap!!!!) and the very funny curtains by the door (let’s see how fast we can open a shut them by running like maniacs!).
It’s about that time-goodbye time (now if they could only bring the baby too so mommy could get some sleep! Ha ha:kidding!!, sort off…eh…)
As they leave (and I hate to admit I’m relieved to get another night of alone time and care to recover some more- but I realize that it’s also good to have time to allow myself to get excited about starting life as a family of five- mommy being very outnumbered- TOMORROW!!!)
My big boy exclaims “eh, mama, if the baby is out, how come you are still FAT?
Best comment after pushing a human being out of your body-EVER!!

I forgot how much you bleed and how much having stitches hurt, how little you can do (lifting stroller out of car, carrying car seat, lifting toddler-sitting on a chair: all definite no nos) and how big the freaking pads have to be in your sexy see through mesh hospital “underpants”. The celebrity that recently said “I had no idea you have to leave the hospital in diapers just like your baby” (or something like that) was spot on – didn’t mean to be funny there-because none of this is fun really except of course the “getting to take home a real human baby as a price for your efforts” so that’s pretty worth it and you need to see it that way, and remember that, otherwise it’s easy to get extremely emotional (you will anyways-totally unavoidable btw) and a little swept away by the total messiness that is blood and mucus and clots (“as long as they are smaller than golf balls-trust us, you are completely fine- totally normal!”) and regurgitated sour milk and blow out yellow seedy poop and you know cracked, bleeding and sore nipples, leaking boobs (that if brushed against something like any piece of clothing for example will make you suicidal… As well as homicidal should someone come near you) and the fact that you cannot pee without crying…

I’m not sure I would have survived without my own mommy! She literally does everything and more!
She cooks and cleans and organizes and decorates and washes and soothes and wipes and …well you get it. She takes care of our house, and our dog and our kids AND me!

Baby boy is now already 4 weeks old, it’s insane- these weeks have flown by. The more kids you have, the faster they grow I guess because a month seems like days. So far he is a pretty easy going little guy, sweet and good natured (not at all like the other two) he has however inherited his siblings’ intensity and lack of patience, if he wants something, he wants it RIGHT AWAY! (That “something” is usually food!! Meaning ME)…
I know that the “honeymoon phase” with baby has also worn off,  and not sleeping at night is getting old (really old, I’m too old for this dang it)! It’s not as charming to be feeding this little (very lovable during the day) creature every single hour during the night and watch him sleep like a good little boy during the day (sometimes for hours at the time). My littlest one sure turns from human baby…to something else entirely during the night (I won’t get into how frustrated I can get but don’t worry he still gets plenty of attention, kisses and yes MILK-seriosly: don’t you worry) but somehow I manage to still keep him close and full-despite the three hour cry attacks at 2:14 am where nothing helps (not even food-gasp!)

At the end of mom’s stay I’m squeezing in a haircut (beyond necessary) and a much needed girls’ brunch! I’m so grateful to my mom I can’t describe it with words and now she is leaving in a week…however will I handle my life…?

 

 

VENTI decaf Java chip Frappucino!!!

“Is HE okay” I keep questioning as I can’t get a good look myself while they are working away in between my legs- there is quite a bit of blood and apparently some sewing and cleaning up going on. Catching my breath after the great delivery I silently pray that nothing is now wrong! Please God!

We have worried for months now (ever since that terrifying twenty week ultrasound) I just want to know at this point, please, please!!
I’m panicking slightly as my mom stalls with the answer…

I need to know!

“As far as I can tell…he is PERFECT!”
As sigh of relief!
His face?
“I think so…”
“Think?”
“Yes, most definitely yes!”
“The rest of him?”
He looks great, he really does, crying, red, BIG…
Perfect
The emergency people keep dropping off, leaving the room one by one.

A successful delivery if I ever saw (more like experienced) one! There are tears of joy in my eyes as I finally get to see him up close, holding him tight, cradled to my chest! He immediately stops crying his eyes big and dark, dark blue. Then he starts rooting, searching for milk. Such a good sign I just want to laugh with pure happiness. I just can’t believe how healthy he looks…and feels. Nobody has taken him yet, they haven’t even cleaned him, but he seems pretty clean, alert and yes big, I can’t believe how big he seems compared to my other two. They were both whisked away before I could hold them. This is my dream delivery, the one I wished and prayed for. The one I was “due” to have and deserved!
And my mother got to experience this all with me.

Instead of stealing him away they wrap him up in the standard stiff blanket with the little pink and blue baby footprints while he is still laying on me. My legs start to feel wobbly I can now completely feel my right one again. The doctor is finishing the stitches sewing away (my mom later tells me she ones drops the needle exclaiming “ops!”) and although I can feel some pain, the warm feeling of an amazing delivery of our beautiful baby boy overshadows everything else. My mom tells me “good job” smiling and beaming as we both laugh over this awesome shared miracle experience.

They haven’t even weighed or measured the baby’s height yer but this time I’m not nervous, not in the least because I can tell there is nothing to worry about. Baby boy is breathing fine, his color is great, he is the perfect size and so sweet, resting after being in such a hurry coming out and then getting to exercise those lungs (screaming: check!)

This is when his daddy decides to show up, opening the door and then the curtains to the baby already in my arms. Not a lot of things shocks or surprises my husband but his voice says it all, he really can’t believe it!!

“Wait what??” “You weren’t kidding…I thought you meant the baby is coming…as in its coming in the next couple of hours”. I smile serenely from the bed snuggling with our brand new family member and my mom giggles.
“Guess what it is” the nurse asks him
“Hm”, my husband steps close to my bed to get a good look at the baby and guesses loudly (and proudly) “a BOY!”

It is not even ten o’clock at night when baby has been toweled off, weighed and measures (biggest baby at 3 kilos), I am all cleaned up, the towels (rags) have been counted (so gross but necessary so that they don’t, gasp! Leave one behind; you know as INSIDE you) all the pictures have been taken of baby with mama, with daddy, with both (and without) and of course with grandma! and my food has been ordered when I tell my mom and hubby to leave. They will be able to go home and get a good nights sleep after all, and come to think of all of our discussions on who would be taking the night shift with me while I would (obviously right!?) still be in labor, who would stay over on the uncomfortable couch (sad excuse for a bed) thing and who would take over in the morning. What can I say; I like to get my boys out there fast (and they like to vacate in a hurry!), my daughter- not so fast but then again, she wanted to come eleven weeks early! Luckily settling on six!

How ever much I marvel at how it’s all over and how lucky I am to have another miracle baby in my arms…I am also starving (and shamefully hoping someone…anyone will please take this baby for just a couple of minutes so I can rest and eat something).

Unfortunately this (very sweet calm and really great under pressure, great gender guessing) nurse is about as good at calling for food as she is the anesthesiologist, meaning; not at all…

All I keep thinking about is that decaf frappucino I will be getting in the morning. And it better be a VENTI (extra chocolaty!!) I soo deserve it!
There will only be crackers and strawberry yoghurt for me tonight and hours later.

I flip on to the huge traveling bed with wheels like a pro (it really helps that I regained all of the feeling in my right leg and the left one is already tingling and responding to my directions (move!).

They do that pressing on the tummy thing so that the stomach will contract and blood and goo come out, sorry about that vivid disgustingness- before they roll me out towards recovery!

This is when an alarm sounds so loud it’s even startling my sleeping baby, shaking the entire hospital floor…

Close your eyes or you’ll see it…

We make it to the hospital (even if hubby has to parallel park, leaving the passenger side car door wide open). When security asks where we are headed we both yell “triage” and when he asks if it’s an emergency we answer “YES” at the exact same time.
I can barely walk, between the contractions coming every few minutes and the constant excessive leaking it’s fair to say that I’m a complete mess. I laugh one minute (slightly hysterical) and cry the next (more of a moan really). The elevator floor gets wet and I leave a trail behind me as we first enter the wrong floor. Despite of all of this, I’m only four centimeters dilated when they check. There is no questioning whether what I’m leaking is amniotic fluid however (the whole thing has now definitely ruptured) and since the contraction are so strong and close apart I get bumped up on the list to get a room. I tell my husband to hurry back to the house to get my mom as I wait on the narrow bed alone with my frequent contractions.

They hurt and I do have to stop what I’m doing and concentrate on breathing but it isn’t worse than me managing to text friends and check e-mails and social media in between them.

I answer all the nurse’s routine medical questions, briefly re-living my two previous births and deliveries, sending a wish above that this one will be easier!
The nurses get a laugh from my “pink or blue, either will do” dress.
My blood pressure is just slightly elevated and all my vitals seem fine, so far so good!

The nurses let me know that since my contractions are picking up we don’t have time to wait for my husband to come back with my mom before we head to the delivery room. They actually run me there in a wheel chair, I am six centimeters and things seem to move fast, I’m actually in quite a lot of pain by now.

I get a Russian nurse who is so stern and matter of fact, it’s quite stereotypical and actually exactly what I need right now. She orders me around-go to the bathroom, undress, put on gown, catheter is next-and I just follow her barking orders in a blank pain induced haze trying not to think about how it will get worse before it gets better…

The Russian nurse smacks her lips shaking her head as she reads my pregnancy and birth history. She tells me if anyone deserves a good delivery it’s me (I couldn’t agree more)! My doctor made good on her promise to have an OR prepped even though the nurses checking me in actually tells me that the scheduled Caesarian hasn’t been changed in their computer system (I’m glad I’m able to tell them that the plans have changed and my doctor is able to back me up, I actually feel really good about getting to try another vaginal delivery), she also has a team ready should anything go wrong with my delivery (baby or myself).

I feel so much better when mom finally shows up! I can still talk in between contractions but am not able to once they hit. How come you never remember how bad they really are?
The answer must really be the cliche that then you would never have another baby…ever!

Mom, husband and I share some laughs and talk about boy names before it gets really bad and I return into my fog of pain and there is really nothing else I can focus on, gripping the side rails of the bed tightly as one contraction replaces another.
All I want is my friggin epidural- this time I am all in and I will NOT be denied one that’s for sure!!
The Russian promises that I am next on the list and that anesthesiologist is finishing up with a patient as we speak. Before there is a nurse shift change (I’m sincerely sad she is leaving) she exclaims loudly; “girl; you are BOOMING those contractions”.

Not sure what the word means but 100% agreeing with her I wait while she gets the new nurse (a pretty, petite, brunette American) up to speed, covering my previous pre-eclampsia, baby’s broken clavicle, premature rupture of membranes, premature delivery, baby’s Brady’s, premature lungs and kidneys, the recent hospital stays, leaking, heart palpitations, preventative shots…everything…

The nurse agrees that mom and hubby should eat now while we wait for the epidural and hurry back because the pressure is intensifying and she is guessing that this baby will probably show up before midnight (thinking we have a couple of hours only). She is betting the baby is a boy while my mom bets a girl. As my family leaves my new nurse heads out to check on the anesthesiologist- seriously what is taking him so long??

Turns out, he was waiting for my nurse to call him and he had been done a while ago, now he threatens that it might be too late for the pain meds I so desperately need. While my husband and mother are getting a quick bite my pain level has sky rocketed but luckily this nurse is in my side, apologizing profusely for not calling the epidural guy sooner and rooting for me to get the shot right away.

He mercifully agrees and as the medicine takes affect things calm down and I feel some bliss and a much needed break only now realizing how exhausted I really am.
I haven’t been checked in a while but it is the nurse’s opinion that the epidural slowed things down enough for me to rest some and for husband to go home and put the kids to bed.

Okay, so yes, she is wrong! I can tell that she is wrong (oh I can tell alright), the pressure even WITH the epidural is out of this world. I realize of course that I can’t remember my other two deliveries completely and that you forget, ignore and deny the pain but this is crazy, freaking insane pain. It has to be-must be the worst pressure I have ever felt, it feels like I’m being ripped apart. I can’t communicate, it feels like I’m going to throw up (or you know die..) shatter and break. I’m so pale shifting in green my mom actually gets worried, they give me oxygen and keep checking my pulse and pressure, I’m shaking like a leaf (on a particularly windy day; read hurricane warning).

So no, we don’t have a few hours, no hubby does not have time to go home (forget about saying good night to kids and then come back) we barely have a few minutes. I am ten freaking centimeters! The nurse rushes around prepping the room (my mom later tells me the far end of the room fills with “emergency people” should anything go wrong), the OR is called just in case and the doctor on call is paged.

The doctor barely makes it in time to “catch”, I’m talking three to four pushes here! Fastest delivery ever! I WAS due for one of those!

The baby is out, she expertly turns the shoulder so it won’t get stuck. My mom experiences it all-telling me later that it was quite extraordinary and completely amazing! The dad of this baby hasn’t even made it home as I text “the baby is coming” so naturally he misses it all.

I yell for my mom to see if there is anything wrong with the baby but all we both see at first is “IT”, oh yes there is no denying this…

I have just delivered a screaming, red and shivering baby BOY!!!

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