Cam: Daddy, I love little girls! They're so cute!
Me: Oh yeah, buddy? Who do you think is cute?
Cam: Mowgli!
Me: But Mowgli is a boy.
Cam: I like him. He's cute!
Me: Oh, okay. Yeah I guess he is kinda cute.....
Cam: Do you like little girls?
Me: (Long pause) Uhh, yeah... I guess so... um, I like Rachael, and she's little......
Cam: I love little girls.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Overheard
In the car, we are listening to "If I Had a Million Dollars":
Me: Hey, Cammy, this band is called the Bare Naked Ladies. Isn't that silly?
Cam: What's silly about it?
Me: Well, because they're not naked and they're not ladies.
Cam: And they're not bears, either.
*********
At a restaurant, we are finishing up lunch:
Cam: (turning red with effort) Mommy! I'm going poo poos!
Me: (quietly) Ok, buddy. Thanks for letting me know.
Cam: (loudly) Mommy, why does poo poo come out of my bum bum?
Me: (smiling apologetically at the man sitting within earshot) Um. . .I don't really know, buddy. That would have been a good question to ask the doctor at your check-up.
Cam: Mommy, you pretend to be the doctor, and I'll be Cammy.
Me: Um. . .
Cam: (loudly, oh so loudly) DOCTOR, WHY DOES POO POO COME OUT OF MY BUM BUM?
Me: Uh. . .
Cam: BECAUSE IT LOOOOOOOOVES TO SEE MY DIAPER!!
**********
In our livingroom, looking out the open window
Me: Oh, there's Mr. S walking his doggy.
Cam: (screaming) HI!! HI MR. S!!!!!
Mr. S: (chuckling) Hi!
Cam: WE'VE BEEN WATCHING YOU!
Mr. S: . . .
Me: Hey, Cammy, this band is called the Bare Naked Ladies. Isn't that silly?
Cam: What's silly about it?
Me: Well, because they're not naked and they're not ladies.
Cam: And they're not bears, either.
*********
At a restaurant, we are finishing up lunch:
Cam: (turning red with effort) Mommy! I'm going poo poos!
Me: (quietly) Ok, buddy. Thanks for letting me know.
Cam: (loudly) Mommy, why does poo poo come out of my bum bum?
Me: (smiling apologetically at the man sitting within earshot) Um. . .I don't really know, buddy. That would have been a good question to ask the doctor at your check-up.
Cam: Mommy, you pretend to be the doctor, and I'll be Cammy.
Me: Um. . .
Cam: (loudly, oh so loudly) DOCTOR, WHY DOES POO POO COME OUT OF MY BUM BUM?
Me: Uh. . .
Cam: BECAUSE IT LOOOOOOOOVES TO SEE MY DIAPER!!
**********
In our livingroom, looking out the open window
Me: Oh, there's Mr. S walking his doggy.
Cam: (screaming) HI!! HI MR. S!!!!!
Mr. S: (chuckling) Hi!
Cam: WE'VE BEEN WATCHING YOU!
Mr. S: . . .
Friday, December 21, 2007
Sorry I brought it up
Me: Cammy, did you know that tomorrow is the Winter Solstice?
Cam: (Gasps, quickly leaps to his feet) Are we going to go to infinity and beyond?
M: Um, no, I don't think we're going to do that. Did you know that the Solstice is the shortest day of the year?
C: Is there going to be a parade?
M: No, I don't think there's going to be a parade. Tomorrow is the day where the sun is going to be in the sky for the shortest amount of time.
C: What are we going to do for the shortest day of the year?
M: I don't know.... I guess we could say, "Happy Winter Solstice!"
C: (Just looks at me, unable to mask his disappointment).
Cam: (Gasps, quickly leaps to his feet) Are we going to go to infinity and beyond?
M: Um, no, I don't think we're going to do that. Did you know that the Solstice is the shortest day of the year?
C: Is there going to be a parade?
M: No, I don't think there's going to be a parade. Tomorrow is the day where the sun is going to be in the sky for the shortest amount of time.
C: What are we going to do for the shortest day of the year?
M: I don't know.... I guess we could say, "Happy Winter Solstice!"
C: (Just looks at me, unable to mask his disappointment).
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Monday, December 3, 2007
Past Due
Thursday, September 20th found me in a cranky, cranky place. Everything was bothering me. I was running on almost no patience, and physically, I was very uncomfortable. I was also feeling a lot of pressure to go into labor – my obstetrician (Dr. B.) had been talking about inducing me for two weeks, and I had an appointment at the hospital for the following Monday to be given a pitocin drip if I didn’t start laboring on my own by then. The thought of having an induction was freaking me out in a big way; I had already cancelled one induction appointment, and I knew that my OB wouldn’t let me get out of the next one without a fight.
So when I felt a cramp at 7:23 p.m., I was excited and relieved for about 10 minutes, until I realized that it meant I would have to go through labor and push a human being out of my body. Also, the more I thought about it, the more I was beginning to conclude that I was perfectly happy with one child, thankyouverymuch. Alas, the contractions did not stop, and in fact became very regular very quickly, so to be on the safe side I called my OB to let her know that I was considering having a baby shortly, and would she please tell me what to do about that. I dialed the number and listened to it ring and ring and ring (and ring and ring and ring) before it became clear that nobody was going to answer. Had this been my first labor, it’s possible I might have stressed out just a teensy little bit (HA!). However, being the childbearing expert that I am since having Cameron (again, HA!), I was able to calmly call my hospital’s labor and delivery ward, and the nurse who answered told me to come in so that they could see if my water had broken (I didn’t realize it at the time, but a woman’s water can break and not be the obvious “gush”).
Anyway, Mike and I headed on over to L&D with my suitcase and snacks, because we had the feeling that they would not be letting me go home. We were correct. It turned out that my waters had indeed ruptured, so we settled down in the L&D and. . . .waited. To be honest, it sucked. I was in the early stages of labor and it was frustrating to be trapped at the hospital. I knew that had I been at home, I could have slept or read, or watched a movie, or done anything else to make the time pass quickly while remaining comfortable. But at the hospital, that was impossible. We had a (well-meaning but very annoying) nurse who came to check on me relentlessly – I know she was only doing her job, but she strapped me to the monitor for countless contractions, and anyone who has ever been in labor knows how unbearable it feels not to be able to get into the position you want to be in during a contraction. I later told Mike that it felt almost like torture. I am a little melodramatic, for sure, but it was still irritating as anything.
At around midnight, the on-call doctor came in and checked my cervix, which was four to five centimeters dilated. I was disappointed to hear this, because it seemed that I still had such a long way to go. My problem was that I kept comparing this labor to my labor with Cam (with Cam, I arrived at the hospital already nine centimeters dilated, and was able to begin pushing almost right away).
The early morning hours after midnight were an endless blur of contractions, the irritating nurse, and a Roseanne marathon on TV. Mike and I tried to sleep, but seeing as I was having contractions every few minutes, this proved to be a challenge. Being in a horizontal position made the labor pains feel absolutely unbearable, so I couldn’t lie in bed. Sitting wasn’t much more comfortable, so at the beginning of each contraction I would stand up and lean on Mike for support. We each tried to doze between the contractions. It was a long night, but at the same time, strangely timeless.
At a little after three in the morning, someone checked my cervix and found that I was about seven centimeters dilated. Once again I was disappointed. I was so exhausted and the contractions were so uncomfortable that I really didn’t want to keep laboring anymore. I was ready for this baby to come out.
My obstetrician’s shift started at eight in the morning, at which point she came in and checked my cervix. I was at nine centimeters dilated, but the baby didn’t seem to be coming down the birth canal – she was still high up, which is not what I wanted to hear after having been in labor for twelve and a half hours. My doctor told me that some of my bag of waters was still intact, so she decided to break it to hurry things along. She broke my water, and warned me that my contractions would probably become a lot more intense, but they didn’t (don’t get me wrong, they still hurt like a mofo, but breaking the water didn’t seem to change them at all).
Finally, a (wonderful, non-annoying) nurse suggested that I lay (lie?) on my right side, to help get the baby down (apparently, Rachael was facing the wrong direction – posterior – which, in addition to making the contractions more intense, made it more difficult for her to descend). At that point, everything changed. I felt a contraction that completely overwhelmed me in its intensity. I also felt something that I had never felt while giving birth to Cam: fear. The pain was so large and all encompassing, and I tried not to think about the fact that it would have to get worse before it could end. Thankfully, lying on my side proved to be very effective in getting the baby to descend, and within minutes I knew it was time to push. In between contractions, when I wasn’t cursing myself for refusing the epidural, I was remembering that it took me two hours of pushing to get Cam out, and I decided then and there that I could not bear this pain for another two hours. So with more determination than I have ever shown in my life, I pushed as though my life depended on it, and Rachael was out in less than five minutes.
The doctor put Rachael on my chest, and just as Cameron had, my new baby looked up at me with large, dark blue eyes. Looking at her for the first time I remember well, but after that, things got a little bit hazy. The nurse took Rachael to test her Apgar scores, and my doctor informed me that my placenta was not detaching itself from my uterus. I’ll spare you all of the gruesome and gory details, but suffice it to say that the placenta eventually was removed by my obstetrician (bless her), and that the removal involved both of her hands . . . somewhere. At the same time. And lots of blood. And lots of screaming. It was not my best moment. That’s all I’m going to say about that.
Several minutes later, I began to feel strange. I heard a rushing sound, like a loud wind blowing, but I suspected that I was the only one who could hear it. A nurse came to take my vitals, and found that my heart was beating rapidly and my blood pressure was very low. It turned out that during the whole placenta debacle, I had lost too much blood, and had immediately become very anemic. In the next few minutes, I received my very first intravenous line, and got to stress about phrases that were being thrown around by my doctor, such as “. . .may need to give her a D&C” and “. . .possibly a blood transfusion.” In the end, I was very fortunate and did not need the D&C or the transfusion. My body recovered enough so that I only had to promise my doctor that I would take iron supplements until I was feeling normal once again.
All in all, it was a tiring and difficult labor and delivery. It was more painful than I had anticipated, and more physically challenging than I ever knew it could be. During the pushing, I remember thinking to myself over and over “I would never do this again. I would never do this again.” And I meant it, at the time. But of course I would do it again. Every breathtaking contraction, every drop of blood, and every primal scream brought Rachael into the world. I would do it all again for my daughter.
But not for any future babies, because we are so done.
So when I felt a cramp at 7:23 p.m., I was excited and relieved for about 10 minutes, until I realized that it meant I would have to go through labor and push a human being out of my body. Also, the more I thought about it, the more I was beginning to conclude that I was perfectly happy with one child, thankyouverymuch. Alas, the contractions did not stop, and in fact became very regular very quickly, so to be on the safe side I called my OB to let her know that I was considering having a baby shortly, and would she please tell me what to do about that. I dialed the number and listened to it ring and ring and ring (and ring and ring and ring) before it became clear that nobody was going to answer. Had this been my first labor, it’s possible I might have stressed out just a teensy little bit (HA!). However, being the childbearing expert that I am since having Cameron (again, HA!), I was able to calmly call my hospital’s labor and delivery ward, and the nurse who answered told me to come in so that they could see if my water had broken (I didn’t realize it at the time, but a woman’s water can break and not be the obvious “gush”).
Anyway, Mike and I headed on over to L&D with my suitcase and snacks, because we had the feeling that they would not be letting me go home. We were correct. It turned out that my waters had indeed ruptured, so we settled down in the L&D and. . . .waited. To be honest, it sucked. I was in the early stages of labor and it was frustrating to be trapped at the hospital. I knew that had I been at home, I could have slept or read, or watched a movie, or done anything else to make the time pass quickly while remaining comfortable. But at the hospital, that was impossible. We had a (well-meaning but very annoying) nurse who came to check on me relentlessly – I know she was only doing her job, but she strapped me to the monitor for countless contractions, and anyone who has ever been in labor knows how unbearable it feels not to be able to get into the position you want to be in during a contraction. I later told Mike that it felt almost like torture. I am a little melodramatic, for sure, but it was still irritating as anything.
At around midnight, the on-call doctor came in and checked my cervix, which was four to five centimeters dilated. I was disappointed to hear this, because it seemed that I still had such a long way to go. My problem was that I kept comparing this labor to my labor with Cam (with Cam, I arrived at the hospital already nine centimeters dilated, and was able to begin pushing almost right away).
The early morning hours after midnight were an endless blur of contractions, the irritating nurse, and a Roseanne marathon on TV. Mike and I tried to sleep, but seeing as I was having contractions every few minutes, this proved to be a challenge. Being in a horizontal position made the labor pains feel absolutely unbearable, so I couldn’t lie in bed. Sitting wasn’t much more comfortable, so at the beginning of each contraction I would stand up and lean on Mike for support. We each tried to doze between the contractions. It was a long night, but at the same time, strangely timeless.
At a little after three in the morning, someone checked my cervix and found that I was about seven centimeters dilated. Once again I was disappointed. I was so exhausted and the contractions were so uncomfortable that I really didn’t want to keep laboring anymore. I was ready for this baby to come out.
My obstetrician’s shift started at eight in the morning, at which point she came in and checked my cervix. I was at nine centimeters dilated, but the baby didn’t seem to be coming down the birth canal – she was still high up, which is not what I wanted to hear after having been in labor for twelve and a half hours. My doctor told me that some of my bag of waters was still intact, so she decided to break it to hurry things along. She broke my water, and warned me that my contractions would probably become a lot more intense, but they didn’t (don’t get me wrong, they still hurt like a mofo, but breaking the water didn’t seem to change them at all).
Finally, a (wonderful, non-annoying) nurse suggested that I lay (lie?) on my right side, to help get the baby down (apparently, Rachael was facing the wrong direction – posterior – which, in addition to making the contractions more intense, made it more difficult for her to descend). At that point, everything changed. I felt a contraction that completely overwhelmed me in its intensity. I also felt something that I had never felt while giving birth to Cam: fear. The pain was so large and all encompassing, and I tried not to think about the fact that it would have to get worse before it could end. Thankfully, lying on my side proved to be very effective in getting the baby to descend, and within minutes I knew it was time to push. In between contractions, when I wasn’t cursing myself for refusing the epidural, I was remembering that it took me two hours of pushing to get Cam out, and I decided then and there that I could not bear this pain for another two hours. So with more determination than I have ever shown in my life, I pushed as though my life depended on it, and Rachael was out in less than five minutes.
The doctor put Rachael on my chest, and just as Cameron had, my new baby looked up at me with large, dark blue eyes. Looking at her for the first time I remember well, but after that, things got a little bit hazy. The nurse took Rachael to test her Apgar scores, and my doctor informed me that my placenta was not detaching itself from my uterus. I’ll spare you all of the gruesome and gory details, but suffice it to say that the placenta eventually was removed by my obstetrician (bless her), and that the removal involved both of her hands . . . somewhere. At the same time. And lots of blood. And lots of screaming. It was not my best moment. That’s all I’m going to say about that.
Several minutes later, I began to feel strange. I heard a rushing sound, like a loud wind blowing, but I suspected that I was the only one who could hear it. A nurse came to take my vitals, and found that my heart was beating rapidly and my blood pressure was very low. It turned out that during the whole placenta debacle, I had lost too much blood, and had immediately become very anemic. In the next few minutes, I received my very first intravenous line, and got to stress about phrases that were being thrown around by my doctor, such as “. . .may need to give her a D&C” and “. . .possibly a blood transfusion.” In the end, I was very fortunate and did not need the D&C or the transfusion. My body recovered enough so that I only had to promise my doctor that I would take iron supplements until I was feeling normal once again.
All in all, it was a tiring and difficult labor and delivery. It was more painful than I had anticipated, and more physically challenging than I ever knew it could be. During the pushing, I remember thinking to myself over and over “I would never do this again. I would never do this again.” And I meant it, at the time. But of course I would do it again. Every breathtaking contraction, every drop of blood, and every primal scream brought Rachael into the world. I would do it all again for my daughter.
But not for any future babies, because we are so done.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Did I Forget To Mention...
Oh yeah, a funny thing happened about a month ago: we had a baby! Her name is Rachael. She's pretty cute. Don't believe me? See for yourself:
An interesting thing happens when you double the amount of children in your house: your free time, usually used to upate your blog, completely disappears. Who could've known?
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
A post done in real time
In the crib:
I sad yittle girl on Caillou. I sad yittle girl. A sad yittle girl on Caillou's name is?
MoreMommyMoreMommyMoreMommyMoreMommyMoreMommyMoreMommy!
All done nap, Mommy. All done nap.
[singing] Da da da da da da! A rest of it goes?
Mommmmmmmmmmmymommymommymommymommy!!
[kicking the crib bars] bangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbang
I. . .I yittle girl at yiberry! A yittle girl at yiberry's name is? I her!
Orange binky! Where are you, orange binky? A orange binky is? No can't see it!
In my head:
Oh my freaking lord, please make him go to sleep. I will do anything, dear sweet baby Jesus, if you just make him nap for an hour. I'll. . . .I'll clean the upstairs toilet! Just make him sleep. One hour. Forty-five fucking minutes.
. . . .
He's been quiet for a while. Is he sleeping? I think he's sleeping. Don't think it, Kate, you'll jinx it.
. . . .
I can't hear anything. . .I think he's asleep. Oh thank you, God. Thank you, sweet little baby Jesus. I love you both. Do I really have to clean the upstairs toilet? I'm 35 weeks pregnant for Christ's sake. I should be resting while I have the chance. Screw the upstairs toilet. It'll still be dirty tomorrow. Hmmmmm . . .maybe I'll take a nap. Or I could watch ---
In the crib:
Yook yike bear! Yook yike bear in my crib! Pretty silly! Hahahahaha!
[singing] Doo doo doo doo doo!
All done nap, Mommy!
More get out of crib now, Mommy.
More get OUT.
I sad yittle girl on Caillou. I sad yittle girl. A sad yittle girl on Caillou's name is?
MoreMommyMoreMommyMoreMommyMoreMommyMoreMommyMoreMommy!
All done nap, Mommy. All done nap.
[singing] Da da da da da da! A rest of it goes?
Mommmmmmmmmmmymommymommymommymommy!!
[kicking the crib bars] bangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbang
I. . .I yittle girl at yiberry! A yittle girl at yiberry's name is? I her!
Orange binky! Where are you, orange binky? A orange binky is? No can't see it!
In my head:
Oh my freaking lord, please make him go to sleep. I will do anything, dear sweet baby Jesus, if you just make him nap for an hour. I'll. . . .I'll clean the upstairs toilet! Just make him sleep. One hour. Forty-five fucking minutes.
. . . .
He's been quiet for a while. Is he sleeping? I think he's sleeping. Don't think it, Kate, you'll jinx it.
. . . .
I can't hear anything. . .I think he's asleep. Oh thank you, God. Thank you, sweet little baby Jesus. I love you both. Do I really have to clean the upstairs toilet? I'm 35 weeks pregnant for Christ's sake. I should be resting while I have the chance. Screw the upstairs toilet. It'll still be dirty tomorrow. Hmmmmm . . .maybe I'll take a nap. Or I could watch ---
In the crib:
Yook yike bear! Yook yike bear in my crib! Pretty silly! Hahahahaha!
[singing] Doo doo doo doo doo!
All done nap, Mommy!
More get out of crib now, Mommy.
More get OUT.
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