Okay, parents with more than one how did you handle the uptick in the baby talk? Am I bad mom that it kind of bugs? It’s a little thing… or maybe I should say, it’s just a weetle, weetle tang.
Hmm, this shows a tad more breast than I had realized, oh well! I don’t have CGI to place a burning fuselage there instead. This vid underscores that constant yin yang you have as a parent.
You are adorable.
You are the best thing I’ve ever done.
But can you not whine?
Now I know there is a God.
Is that poo on my carpet?
Before Rex’s illness, I was pretty easygoing when it came to germs and my child. Now… do they make hand sanitizer showers?
Here is the question: why do I even bother getting dressed? This is my third top of the da,y and it’s not quite noon. Sure, I could grab a burp cloth, but seriously, who does? I only remember them when grandma comes over ’cause I don’t want to scare away any free help.
Vivien wasn’t a spitter-upper, so it’s new to me. But it’s been 11 weeks, I should get the hang of it. Yet another reason why I haven’t bought any new clothes in a while or ever dress in the nice ones I have. I want to dress nicely…but, but, why bother?
I thought Oprah day would feel different. It was exciting to do it, but I watched the show with my husband in our infant son’s hospital room. Not the viewing party I had envisioned.
Early Sunday morning, Rex felt hot and was needy. He didn’t want to sleep alone. We took his temp and seeing a temp of over 101, we gave him Baby Tylenol. He seemed better but drowsy most of the day. In the afternoon, I noticed the fever had returned. I gave him Tylenol and held him for two hours. When I checked, the fever was still there. Odd. When I got ahold of his doctor, I was a little surprised that she said, “Take him to the emergency room.”
At 8:30p.m., Rex and I waited for an hour, and then Mark showed up. He had to wait for our babysitter to be with Vivien and Oliver. The ER waiting room is bleak and dirty. Rex was sleepy in my arms. Sometimes, I could get him to nurse. I looked like hell and was pretty sure some of the sketchy and forlorn folks were getting a glimpse of my breast, but the ER wears us all down so even naked flesh is not appealing.
Mark and I were shocked when (after an hour in the ER exam room) the doctor told us plainly that Rex needed to be hospitalized for 48 hours (I said, “Well, I’m going with him”), have a catheter take his urine, have an IV and blood drawn, and have spinal fluid extracted. Doc, he is 7 weeks old. I just left a hospital after delivering him. Isn’t this an ear infection?
We learned that any fever for a baby under 2 months is a red flag for Meningitis. And I learned that we could all get through what the doctor told us would be “one of the roughest nights of our lives;” he wasn’t making that up.
They wheeled Rex and I on a gurney to another room off the ER. By now, it was close to midnight. Before everything began, I said to Mark, “I’d feel so much better if I could do this instead of him.” “Yes,” he agreed.
I lay on the gurney, sometimes nursing Rex, always holding him. First was the catheter to get a sample. Not pleasant, but not the worst. Now the IV and a blood sample. I knew from Cool Mom readers to ask for the best stick, and one nurse said she was. I felt she was too young to be, but another nurse agreed. I lay Rex down on the gurney, and he was already crying. He knew. As I went to his feet, I saw my husband move Rex’s side. I have never seen Mark cry, but now his face was red, and his eyes filled with tears. We tried to reassure Rex as the needle went in his tiny arm. But no, all she did was bruise him. Not the best stick after all. I picked Rex up and started to nurse him. Within minutes I heard “Ready, mom?” from a middle-aged, stone-faced nurse who had taken the other nurses’ places. “Oh,” I said. “Are you good at this?”
“Yes,” she answered, and she was just old enough to make me believe her. She put the IV in the top of his hand. It worked. They taped a little board covered in gauze to keep it in place. After that, Rex was ready to nurse, which was a relief to me, and it meant we were two-thirds over with this torture. New shift brought a new nurse whom I really liked: a slender man who seemed very bright and compassionate. Later I would learn he was a former Marine who had done two duties in Iraq, which made me trust him more. He and the doctor wanted to wait while I nursed before the spinal.
When the time came, Mark and I wanted to get it over with. The former Marine said we could stay or leave the room. That “different parents do both.” Mark asked me what I wanted to do. I said, “If Rex has to go through this the least we can do is be here with him and let him know we haven’t left him.”
The Marine put Rex gently on his side and held his body in place while the doctor–who I liked- shot Lidocaine into Rex’s back. I got down on the floor and put one hand on his head, stroking, the other to his hand. Rex gripped my finger with his whole fist. Strangely, when the doctor extracted the spinal fluid, Rex stopped crying and his face took on a look of resignation, like, “Oh good, they are just going to keep doing stuff to me.” It broke my heart, and yet I thought him so brave. Then it was over. The Marine said the fluid was clear, and he doubts Rex has Meningitis. But we have to wait 48 hours for the cultures, and while Rex is in the hospital, they will give him the antibiotics by IV in case he does have Meningitis.
It was 3 a.m., and we were still in the little room when the residents asked us the same questions about Rex’s illness. I finally told mark to go home. No point in both of us being ruined. He left to return in the a.m. to bring me breakfast. And he needed to be home when Viv woke up. I had called my sister Carole’s house after midnight, and her dear husband Kevin said right away, “What can we do?” I asked them to take care of Viv the following day, which they did.
I nursed Rex as all our bags and car seat, were loaded next to me and we were finally wheeled into our own room on the pediatric level. Our new home. I so was tired I had to stare at the crib for a minute before I realized I wouldn’t fit. They kindly wheeled a regular bed in as they knew I needed to hold Rex all night.
And I did.
I’ve got to write quick. Rex just entered “quiet alert” after lots of nursing and copious amounts of Pooh. While Viv pretends she is in school, I stick Rex in his swing. Thank goodness he likes it more than Viv did at this age. She would last about 2 minutes.
But if my comments or postings seem short these days, it’s because I am often in the above pictured mode and blogging with one available hand. It’s even harder if Rex is nursing on my right side. The nursing is going well. The baby nurse who comes once a week so I can get one good night of sleep says I’m “pumping half and half”. He’s getting big so maybe she is right. Side bar, hard to write the check for such aid, but boy, oh, boy is it worth to have that night of sleep. I just wake up twice to pump and go back to bed immediately.
I’m also counting on this one-handed life to help me to lose weight. Since often I can only eat with one hand. And it’s a great excuse not to clean.
I know I need to get a grip. Thought it was just me, but a mom friend who just had a C-section said she screamed and demanded the anesthesiologist administer the IV since she too had had a bad experience. I’m actively trying to calm myself about it even as I write. I wish they didn’t scare me, but they do.
Where is it written that there must be pastels and mobiles around babies? For Viv’s nursery, the theme was South Beach. No, I couldn’t figure out a way to get some gleaming hard homosexual bodies in there… Ah, I wish I had tried, but I did paint it in the colors that evoke the place, including a wall that had three shades of blue like the Atlantic ocean. I love Miami Beach and used to have a place there. It’s also where Vivien was conceived.
Junior’s origins are less romantic, more run-of-the-mill domestic life. So what am I to do, a room with the theme, “Are you asleep yet??” Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.
I think the decor of a baby’s room is much more about mom. I paid some good cash to have a mural painted in Vivien’s present room (not the room in which she was a baby). It’s lovely: flowers, trees, owls. But even if I say to her, “Viv, look at your mural,” she’s unimpressed. She is much more excited when I bring home a $4 dollar plastic toy from the supermarket. So this time, I’m not knocking myself out.
Boy, do I look big! Can you believe that is supposed to be dress? It was done by the winner of Project Runway, Christian Siriano. I thought it a bit skimpy for my party, so I threw on the leggings underneath.
This was at the “he’s almost here!” cocktail party we had. It was so great. I asked only for people to bring food… a potluck. But many were very generous and brought presents for my little guy. Before the party, I received a present through Diaper Cakewalk. It was so cute, layers of diapers and a little blue elephant, lotions, binky, washcloths. It’s a twofer, ’cause it’s a gift and a centerpiece. If you are hosting or attending a shower I recommend it. I put it in the middle of the dessert table and got many compliments on it.
One drunk tried to take a bite out of it. I have to stop inviting her to stuff.