Our little Annibelle turned one year old just 2 1/2 months ago. Not much time, right? Well, in those 2 short months our little baby has turned into a toddling big girl! It's amazing and thrilling to watch how quickly she learns new things. She repeats back almost everything we say, and even says "Thank you" when we give her something! She absolutely LOVES to read books. She would read all day long if one of us sat with her, and she is always ready to bust a move; it's SO funny to watch her dance and groove when she hears a good beat. <3
As I congratulate my brother and sister in law on the arrival of their first child, I find myself remembering when it was us in that position, holding that tiny new born and staring into her big eyes, wondering what the future held for her... And then you blink, and that baby's a big girl! What really freaks me out is to know that some day she will have a boyfriend, she'll go to college, she'll get married and have a family of her own... But for now, I'm going to beg time to move just a little slower so I can bask in this moment with my little girl, her sticky hands, wild curls, the messy house and all. <3
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Food for Thought
Our first night back home was about as restful as being at the hospital, but, thanks to a dear friend, at least I didn't have to make dinner. (Otherwise we'd probably have starved, as we're all too exhausted to blink). Here's to hoping Annibelle feels a little better and sleeps soundly tonight... at least for a couple hours. =)
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Try To Understand
So, I've been feeling a little frustrated with certain people... I realize it's VERY hard to see from another person's perspective, but some people really don't seem to try at all. Yes, it's true our little Cherub LOOKS perfectly healthy, all smiley and robust, but I PROMISE you, she has a life threatening disease. Really. I promise. And what would make a healthy child slightly ill REALLY could land this little angel in the hospital, (where she would likely catch her death). God entrusted her to ME because He KNOWS that I am the only one who can/will give her the love/attention/care/protection she MUST have to live. Try to remember this. Pass it on.
It drives me a little crazy when someone tells me, "Germs are everywhere; chill out", when I decline letting my daughter climb on a public play toy/area. She's so young, she really doesn't know what she's missing yet... and when she finally reaches that age where she just HAS to play in the ball pit, we're hoping her heart will be working with her body instead of against it.
Would everyone just TRY to be supportive and understanding? PLEASE?!?
Note: If you're reading this, you're probably not one of the folks I'm talking about. Probably.
It drives me a little crazy when someone tells me, "Germs are everywhere; chill out", when I decline letting my daughter climb on a public play toy/area. She's so young, she really doesn't know what she's missing yet... and when she finally reaches that age where she just HAS to play in the ball pit, we're hoping her heart will be working with her body instead of against it.
Would everyone just TRY to be supportive and understanding? PLEASE?!?
Note: If you're reading this, you're probably not one of the folks I'm talking about. Probably.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Every Day A Miracle
So I nursed the Little Cherub to sleep while watching Lie to Me with my honey. After it ended I carefully carried this wee one up to bed and laid her down; at that moment I smelled the sour diaper and KNEW I couldn't just let her keep sleeping in it. So, I did what any good mommy would do and I took the risk and changed the diaper, silently hoping she'd go back to sleep. It didn't happen.
Feeling refreshed as if she'd just taken a lovely 'evening' nap, she was up and ready to go! This, my friends, is why I'm typing this at 1:40am.
This Little Cherub of mine has grown up leaps and bounds in the past 2 weeks. She's not the same babe she was. In fact, you could even call her a little girl! Next week this tiny angel of mine will turn 1 year old! It's both sad and thrilling to watch her grow up.
For the past month or so we've been letting her 'hop' up the stairs to bed at night. Last week she started 'stepping' up the stairs, one tall step at a time! She wants to do it just like we do! (so cute!)
A week ago, Sunday, she pulled herself up to standing, all by herself! She's been hanging onto the couch and walking around for a while now, but this was big news!
The next day I was over at my mom's house and my brother in law waved to her...and she waved back!!! First time ever! I'm such a proud mommy!
All week long this little one has been coming up with tons of new noises and sounds. She keeps us laughing! She's also been repeating back words to us! She's so smart!
This little one, though a joy, has also been a bit of a pain as of late. Very moody. It turns out she was teething again. That makes nine teeth now. This one is a molar! (No wonder she was so grumpy!)
And, after all of these sweets accomplishments, the cherry on top is that she finally took her first unassisted steps yesterday! We are so proud of her!
Being a mother is truly amazing! There's never a dull day in this line of work; every day is a miracle! <3
Feeling refreshed as if she'd just taken a lovely 'evening' nap, she was up and ready to go! This, my friends, is why I'm typing this at 1:40am.
This Little Cherub of mine has grown up leaps and bounds in the past 2 weeks. She's not the same babe she was. In fact, you could even call her a little girl! Next week this tiny angel of mine will turn 1 year old! It's both sad and thrilling to watch her grow up.
For the past month or so we've been letting her 'hop' up the stairs to bed at night. Last week she started 'stepping' up the stairs, one tall step at a time! She wants to do it just like we do! (so cute!)
A week ago, Sunday, she pulled herself up to standing, all by herself! She's been hanging onto the couch and walking around for a while now, but this was big news!
The next day I was over at my mom's house and my brother in law waved to her...and she waved back!!! First time ever! I'm such a proud mommy!
All week long this little one has been coming up with tons of new noises and sounds. She keeps us laughing! She's also been repeating back words to us! She's so smart!
This little one, though a joy, has also been a bit of a pain as of late. Very moody. It turns out she was teething again. That makes nine teeth now. This one is a molar! (No wonder she was so grumpy!)
And, after all of these sweets accomplishments, the cherry on top is that she finally took her first unassisted steps yesterday! We are so proud of her!
Being a mother is truly amazing! There's never a dull day in this line of work; every day is a miracle! <3
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Freedom of Speech?
I've discovered recently that freedom of speech only applies to liberals. Good to know, huh? The rest of us will be lynched for having an opinion. Beware.
Mourn With Those That Mourn
I find it interesting that although hurt, strife, loneliness and such are all a part of life, we all behave as if it's unnatural. If someone mentions any such issues happening in their life we all feel awkward and turn our heads the other direction, whispering under our breath, "That person's got problems". How unnatural! The real problem here is that we turn away rather than listening, helping and just being there for one another. Does pretending it's not there really help the situation? What happened to empathy? Mourning with those that mourn? Comforting those that stand in need of comfort? What a screwed up world we live in if we think of those Christ-like behaviors as "old fashioned". (And, for the record, trying to fix the problem is not the same as having empathy....Robbie).
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Over Protective?
I recently got into a tiff with one of my sisters. She'd been moody for a while and decided to unload on me. She thought I was out of line for getting upset when her son and husband decided to, repeatedly, kick a football towards my 10 month old baby, who was 'walking' around the yard with the assistance of one of their daughters. Once the ball came flying past, skimming my baby, I grabbed her and took her inside. Once inside that sister of mine commented how irritated she is with me being so overprotective.
Although she was out of line here, I realized there are times when, perhaps, ALL of you have thought of me as over-protective. Compared to most of you I probably am, but with good reason.
I would never consider judging any of you on how you parent; it's not my place. It's also not my place to tell you and everyone else how I disagree with the way you parent. Chances are, like me, you're doing your best and you have your child's best interests at heart. I can't ever understand why you do some things the way you do, and vice versa. (Even if you THINK you understand, you don't).
I know that saying this doesn't help you 'stand in my shoes', so I thought I'd help you, and especially my sister, understand, just a little, why I am so protective of my little miracle, Annibelle.
After 28 hours of excruciating labor, neglect and SEVERE complications, I saw my purple baby plop onto the table. The doctor we'd paid to catch her didn't even do that. That doctor didn't check to see if I was dialated before she had me push; and I wasn't. This created most of the problems that almost cost me and my baby our lives.
Annibelle had to be resuscitated, and thankfully was revived. I, however, was still in shock and had no desire to hold, or even see my baby. The nurses finally had Peter put her in my arms and I instantly fell in love with her.
I knew I'd be selfish with my first baby. A mother has that right. When Annibelle was just 21 hours old I was informed that, after some tests, they'd discovered my baby had heart disease. I was alone in the room and was told this by phone call. All I could think was that my baby could die, would need open-heart surgery, and may not live a full or long life. I was devastated and heart broken. This moment changed everything for me. I refused to let anyone, other than Peter, hold our delicate baby. I promised her I would keep her safe, and alive.
I learned that she would need open-heart surgery within her first year. I learned that if her heart pumped too fast she could die. This meant I couldn't let her cry. Anyone with a baby knows that's a difficult, if not impossible, task. If she cried her heart could stop, and she would die... and it would be my fault. I attended to her better than any mother has ever attended to their baby. I learned her noises that meant she needed something so she would never have to let me know through her tears.
We learned that RSV season was just weeks away, and with her weak heart working SO hard to function she could get sick much easier than other babies, and much worse too! Catching RSV, or any major childhood illness could land our baby in the hospital, or perhaps even the grave. Clean hands and good heath/habits are absolutely necessary around her. I stayed inside 99% of the time during that first RSV season. It was difficult for me. I longed to get out and see people and move around. The sacrifice was necessary for her life, and will be again this year, as her heart still struggles to heal and function properly. (You can only imagine the stress this put on me when I discovered we'd have 15 people at our home for Christmas!)
Because of her heart problems she couldn't keep herself warm on her own. If I layed her down by herself for 15 minutes, her skin would feel ice cold to the touch, so I kept her near me and Peter all the time, even at night. (Especially at night!) It's true, I was controlled by fear. I confess I should have asked for a blessing much sooner than I did, for once I did, it brought me great peace. Before that I was pretty sure I would die from high blood pressure! ...the weight on my shoulders was more than I could possibly describe to you. I even got my first gray hair!
I had high hopes each time we went to see her cardiologist, and each time those hopes were dashed to pieces. At 4 months old we were informed that she would not make it to the intended 10-months-old; she needed surgery asap. Her surgery was scheduled for exactly one month from that day; March 17th. (It was later that week both Annibelle and I received a blessing of healing and comfort. I then knew that she would survive this part of the trial).
The weeks leading up to the surgery were stressful. I prayed constantly for my baby; that she wouldn't be afraid, that the doctor would be guided by the Spirit, and that I would be comforted too.
The night before the surgery was one of the hardest in my life. I couldn't feed her; doctor's orders. She was hungry and wanted her mommy. I had to hand her to Peter and have him take her downstairs so both Annibelle and I wouldn't be so upset. I cried and prayed, "Please comfort my baby and don't let her be afraid or hungry". I prayed all that night and morning. I prayed and cried the entire dark drive to the hospital. My mom met us there.
It was so hard, and painful for me to hold that tiny babe in my arms. She was tired and hungry and all I could do was hold her and cry and pray. I stripped my baby of all but her diaper and put on the tiny baby gown they had given me. I was grateful for the laugh when we discovered that Annibelle was too fat to wear the socks and the ankle band they gave for her. When at last I had to hand her to the nurse, she didn't cry; not a peep! ...but I did. Oh, I sobbed. Like a baby. For about 5 minutes. Then, I said another little prayer, stood up and followed mom and Peter out of the pre-op area and into the waiting area on the 3rd floor. I have to tell you that, at this point, I was suddenly overcome with peace, and a lightness of heart. I could literally FEEL the prayers being prayed in our behalf, and I KNEW the surgery would go well. I could have skipped I felt so free! ...free of all the weight and worry that had been holding me under water the past 5 months.
Nurses came out about every 30-60 minutes to update us on the progress of the surgery. They told me she didn't cry once! She wasn't afraid! (A prayer answered!) It took 3 1/2 hours just to get all of her lines in. It took 3 hours after that to operate on her heart. Every hour or two I had to go to the 5th floor heart-center to pump. I was grateful for the chance to leave the waiting area.
7 long hours later we were lead to the PICU where our tiny 5-month old daughter lay with over 20 tubes attached to her, in a medically-paralyzed state. She was retaining water and looked puffy. She was naked, but for a diaper and a blanket laid over her. I still felt peace. I stayed there beside her most of the time, talking to her, touching her hand, checking her temperature, cleaning out her mouth and changing her diaper, instead of letting the nurses do it. We worried a bit as her temperature kept rising. I would only leave her side if my mom was there beside her. I refused to leave her alone. I didn't want her to be afraid.
We spent 5 anxious days in the PICU. 5 days praying she would wake up, recover and be healed. 5 days of not getting to nurse or hold our little one. 5 days trying to comfort her and help her understand what was happening, and that it was temporary.
On day 6 we finally got to take her up to the 5th floor heart center. At this point she got a new bed and only had 2 lines. I could finally lay beside my baby and nurse her, (though she'd forgotten how and tried to nip me with her teeth the first couple days). At this point she didn't have any pain meds, nothing to dull the frightening reality. She was too young to understand what was happening; too young to find comfort in my words. I requested a bouncer, put her in it and put on a Baby Einstein video; Annibelle was SO relieved to see something familiar that she actually laughed out loud! She saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I cried again.
The 3 days/4 nights in the heart center felt like WEEKS! Once up there, Peter went home. I was alone with the baby in that tiny hospital room with nothing to do, no one to talk to. Each day the nurses would come in and tell me, "Today might be the day!" Each day I'd get the news that we were staying another day. Another day. Another day. (The nurses up there aren't nearly as nice as the ones in the PICU either!)
The nurses started making me squirt the medicines down Annibelle's throat instead of giving them through the I.V. It would make her cry, and would make me feel like a bad mommy because I couldn't explain to my baby why I had to do this. After all she'd been through, she was scared. She would start sobbing in fear any time a nurse or doctor came in the room, (which was quite often). I hadn't felt the warm peace in many days. I felt like we were prisoners there. I would have paid anything to take my baby home!
Every morning in the heart center a nurse would wake us up around 5:30am and have me carry my sleepy babe through the cold hallways to the first floor for an x-ray of her heart. On day 7 a bunch of nurses came into the room early in the morning saying they wanted to take out her main line so that it wouldn't get infected, (which would me a month or more in the hospital!) I was all for it until I realized they wanted to put in another line to replace it... while she was fully awake and feeling the pain! I asked them to bring in their BEST 'vein finding nurse'. They did. They checked her hands, wrists, arms, legs, feet... there were NO veins to be found! The brought in a 'snake light' so they could see the veins through her skin and none could be seen! The only vein they could use was at the top of her forehead. (I couldn't help but wonder HOW they planned on keeping her from pulling out a needle/line that would be hanging down in front of her face, but I didn't ask). They had me wake my sleeping babe and pin her to the bed while they shoved a needle in her head. Annibelle was screaming in fear and pain, and I was sobbing, my tears dripping onto her face. (I felt embarrassed to be crying, though I know even mommies have tears). After a few painful attempts, and what felt like an eternity they gave up. They left in the previous line... and they hoped, and I prayed, that it wouldn't get infected.
Early the next morning a moody nurse loudly and rudely startled me and my baby awake and told us we'd be going home today! I didn't care much that she was being a jerk because she'd just given me the best news! A group of about 10 med school docs and nurses gathered around the bed, turned on the blinding emergency lights and took out the remaining line from near my baby's collar bone.
Once they left the room I called Peter and told him the great news and begged him to get to us as quickly as possible. I wanted out before anyone changed their mind! I quickly showered and packed up all of our stuff. Peter arrived in good time and we loaded up the little red wagon, the stroller and our arms with all of our stuff, as we had no desire to return to that room, even if it meant getting our stuff to take home! Once home I felt like I'd awakened from a nightmare. I could only guess that our baby felt the same way.
Each time I change her diaper now I see proof on her perfect little chest, of the nightmare we lived through just 6 months ago. I can't escape the memory; the scar is always there staring at me, reminding me that we're not in the clear yet. She still needs our prayers. Another open-heart surgery might still be lurking around the corner, and the mere thought of that turns me into a puddle of tears. I don't want us to go through that again! Our little miracle is still so afraid of strangers; afraid that they will hurt her. They say babies forget, but mine doesn't. She has a LONG memory, and so do I. At the sight of a blood-pressure cuff she turns to me with fear in her eyes and cries! You can imagine how this breaks my heart. She is uncertain and afraid of the world and people around her now. It's my goal to make her feel safe. And keep her safe.
When someone in the family wants to hold her, I have them ask her for her permission. I won't let her be 'taken' by someone because they selfishly want to hold a baby. It's about her, not you. If you have a cough or cold you won't be allowed near her. This tiny cough in you could mean death to her delicate body. Her doctors like to remind us of that, so we like to remind all of you. Obviously, we don't do this because of YOU, but because of HER. AND, for those of you with grown children, might I ask you to close your eyes and remember the time you had just ONE, tiny baby to love and care for. Remember how you didn't want to share him/her with anyone else? Remember how you were so concerned for his/her health? A mommy has a right to be selfish with her own baby. So, when I decline you generous offers to babysit our little one, please take no offense. It's about us, not you. The day will come when we have our hands full with 2 or more kids, and we will be much more willing to take you up on your offer. For now, we are perfectly happy to tow around out little one with us, as having her near us lets us know what she is/isn't being exposed to and keeps her at peace and feeling safe. (AND because she's SO stinkin' cute and makes us laugh!)
Each day we still wonder what the future holds for our little miracle, and we pray that if it be the Lord's will, her heart will heal enough that she will not need another open-heart surgery. (At least not until she's MUCH older!) We ask you all to, please, remember our little Annibelle in your prayers each day, as she is still in a very dangerous situation with her heart. We know she is hefty, but she is very delicate on the inside. <3
To close, might I suggest that the next time you, or anyone you know thinks I'm being over-protective, read this blog; imagine this is your baby. Your experience, and retract your critical thought. And, maybe, say a prayer of gratitude that your kid(s) are healthy and well, and that this nightmare we live is just a story to you.
Although she was out of line here, I realized there are times when, perhaps, ALL of you have thought of me as over-protective. Compared to most of you I probably am, but with good reason.
I would never consider judging any of you on how you parent; it's not my place. It's also not my place to tell you and everyone else how I disagree with the way you parent. Chances are, like me, you're doing your best and you have your child's best interests at heart. I can't ever understand why you do some things the way you do, and vice versa. (Even if you THINK you understand, you don't).
I know that saying this doesn't help you 'stand in my shoes', so I thought I'd help you, and especially my sister, understand, just a little, why I am so protective of my little miracle, Annibelle.
After 28 hours of excruciating labor, neglect and SEVERE complications, I saw my purple baby plop onto the table. The doctor we'd paid to catch her didn't even do that. That doctor didn't check to see if I was dialated before she had me push; and I wasn't. This created most of the problems that almost cost me and my baby our lives.
Annibelle had to be resuscitated, and thankfully was revived. I, however, was still in shock and had no desire to hold, or even see my baby. The nurses finally had Peter put her in my arms and I instantly fell in love with her.
I knew I'd be selfish with my first baby. A mother has that right. When Annibelle was just 21 hours old I was informed that, after some tests, they'd discovered my baby had heart disease. I was alone in the room and was told this by phone call. All I could think was that my baby could die, would need open-heart surgery, and may not live a full or long life. I was devastated and heart broken. This moment changed everything for me. I refused to let anyone, other than Peter, hold our delicate baby. I promised her I would keep her safe, and alive.
I learned that she would need open-heart surgery within her first year. I learned that if her heart pumped too fast she could die. This meant I couldn't let her cry. Anyone with a baby knows that's a difficult, if not impossible, task. If she cried her heart could stop, and she would die... and it would be my fault. I attended to her better than any mother has ever attended to their baby. I learned her noises that meant she needed something so she would never have to let me know through her tears.
We learned that RSV season was just weeks away, and with her weak heart working SO hard to function she could get sick much easier than other babies, and much worse too! Catching RSV, or any major childhood illness could land our baby in the hospital, or perhaps even the grave. Clean hands and good heath/habits are absolutely necessary around her. I stayed inside 99% of the time during that first RSV season. It was difficult for me. I longed to get out and see people and move around. The sacrifice was necessary for her life, and will be again this year, as her heart still struggles to heal and function properly. (You can only imagine the stress this put on me when I discovered we'd have 15 people at our home for Christmas!)
Because of her heart problems she couldn't keep herself warm on her own. If I layed her down by herself for 15 minutes, her skin would feel ice cold to the touch, so I kept her near me and Peter all the time, even at night. (Especially at night!) It's true, I was controlled by fear. I confess I should have asked for a blessing much sooner than I did, for once I did, it brought me great peace. Before that I was pretty sure I would die from high blood pressure! ...the weight on my shoulders was more than I could possibly describe to you. I even got my first gray hair!
I had high hopes each time we went to see her cardiologist, and each time those hopes were dashed to pieces. At 4 months old we were informed that she would not make it to the intended 10-months-old; she needed surgery asap. Her surgery was scheduled for exactly one month from that day; March 17th. (It was later that week both Annibelle and I received a blessing of healing and comfort. I then knew that she would survive this part of the trial).
The weeks leading up to the surgery were stressful. I prayed constantly for my baby; that she wouldn't be afraid, that the doctor would be guided by the Spirit, and that I would be comforted too.
The night before the surgery was one of the hardest in my life. I couldn't feed her; doctor's orders. She was hungry and wanted her mommy. I had to hand her to Peter and have him take her downstairs so both Annibelle and I wouldn't be so upset. I cried and prayed, "Please comfort my baby and don't let her be afraid or hungry". I prayed all that night and morning. I prayed and cried the entire dark drive to the hospital. My mom met us there.
It was so hard, and painful for me to hold that tiny babe in my arms. She was tired and hungry and all I could do was hold her and cry and pray. I stripped my baby of all but her diaper and put on the tiny baby gown they had given me. I was grateful for the laugh when we discovered that Annibelle was too fat to wear the socks and the ankle band they gave for her. When at last I had to hand her to the nurse, she didn't cry; not a peep! ...but I did. Oh, I sobbed. Like a baby. For about 5 minutes. Then, I said another little prayer, stood up and followed mom and Peter out of the pre-op area and into the waiting area on the 3rd floor. I have to tell you that, at this point, I was suddenly overcome with peace, and a lightness of heart. I could literally FEEL the prayers being prayed in our behalf, and I KNEW the surgery would go well. I could have skipped I felt so free! ...free of all the weight and worry that had been holding me under water the past 5 months.
Nurses came out about every 30-60 minutes to update us on the progress of the surgery. They told me she didn't cry once! She wasn't afraid! (A prayer answered!) It took 3 1/2 hours just to get all of her lines in. It took 3 hours after that to operate on her heart. Every hour or two I had to go to the 5th floor heart-center to pump. I was grateful for the chance to leave the waiting area.
7 long hours later we were lead to the PICU where our tiny 5-month old daughter lay with over 20 tubes attached to her, in a medically-paralyzed state. She was retaining water and looked puffy. She was naked, but for a diaper and a blanket laid over her. I still felt peace. I stayed there beside her most of the time, talking to her, touching her hand, checking her temperature, cleaning out her mouth and changing her diaper, instead of letting the nurses do it. We worried a bit as her temperature kept rising. I would only leave her side if my mom was there beside her. I refused to leave her alone. I didn't want her to be afraid.
We spent 5 anxious days in the PICU. 5 days praying she would wake up, recover and be healed. 5 days of not getting to nurse or hold our little one. 5 days trying to comfort her and help her understand what was happening, and that it was temporary.
On day 6 we finally got to take her up to the 5th floor heart center. At this point she got a new bed and only had 2 lines. I could finally lay beside my baby and nurse her, (though she'd forgotten how and tried to nip me with her teeth the first couple days). At this point she didn't have any pain meds, nothing to dull the frightening reality. She was too young to understand what was happening; too young to find comfort in my words. I requested a bouncer, put her in it and put on a Baby Einstein video; Annibelle was SO relieved to see something familiar that she actually laughed out loud! She saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I cried again.
The 3 days/4 nights in the heart center felt like WEEKS! Once up there, Peter went home. I was alone with the baby in that tiny hospital room with nothing to do, no one to talk to. Each day the nurses would come in and tell me, "Today might be the day!" Each day I'd get the news that we were staying another day. Another day. Another day. (The nurses up there aren't nearly as nice as the ones in the PICU either!)
The nurses started making me squirt the medicines down Annibelle's throat instead of giving them through the I.V. It would make her cry, and would make me feel like a bad mommy because I couldn't explain to my baby why I had to do this. After all she'd been through, she was scared. She would start sobbing in fear any time a nurse or doctor came in the room, (which was quite often). I hadn't felt the warm peace in many days. I felt like we were prisoners there. I would have paid anything to take my baby home!
Every morning in the heart center a nurse would wake us up around 5:30am and have me carry my sleepy babe through the cold hallways to the first floor for an x-ray of her heart. On day 7 a bunch of nurses came into the room early in the morning saying they wanted to take out her main line so that it wouldn't get infected, (which would me a month or more in the hospital!) I was all for it until I realized they wanted to put in another line to replace it... while she was fully awake and feeling the pain! I asked them to bring in their BEST 'vein finding nurse'. They did. They checked her hands, wrists, arms, legs, feet... there were NO veins to be found! The brought in a 'snake light' so they could see the veins through her skin and none could be seen! The only vein they could use was at the top of her forehead. (I couldn't help but wonder HOW they planned on keeping her from pulling out a needle/line that would be hanging down in front of her face, but I didn't ask). They had me wake my sleeping babe and pin her to the bed while they shoved a needle in her head. Annibelle was screaming in fear and pain, and I was sobbing, my tears dripping onto her face. (I felt embarrassed to be crying, though I know even mommies have tears). After a few painful attempts, and what felt like an eternity they gave up. They left in the previous line... and they hoped, and I prayed, that it wouldn't get infected.
Early the next morning a moody nurse loudly and rudely startled me and my baby awake and told us we'd be going home today! I didn't care much that she was being a jerk because she'd just given me the best news! A group of about 10 med school docs and nurses gathered around the bed, turned on the blinding emergency lights and took out the remaining line from near my baby's collar bone.
Once they left the room I called Peter and told him the great news and begged him to get to us as quickly as possible. I wanted out before anyone changed their mind! I quickly showered and packed up all of our stuff. Peter arrived in good time and we loaded up the little red wagon, the stroller and our arms with all of our stuff, as we had no desire to return to that room, even if it meant getting our stuff to take home! Once home I felt like I'd awakened from a nightmare. I could only guess that our baby felt the same way.
Each time I change her diaper now I see proof on her perfect little chest, of the nightmare we lived through just 6 months ago. I can't escape the memory; the scar is always there staring at me, reminding me that we're not in the clear yet. She still needs our prayers. Another open-heart surgery might still be lurking around the corner, and the mere thought of that turns me into a puddle of tears. I don't want us to go through that again! Our little miracle is still so afraid of strangers; afraid that they will hurt her. They say babies forget, but mine doesn't. She has a LONG memory, and so do I. At the sight of a blood-pressure cuff she turns to me with fear in her eyes and cries! You can imagine how this breaks my heart. She is uncertain and afraid of the world and people around her now. It's my goal to make her feel safe. And keep her safe.
When someone in the family wants to hold her, I have them ask her for her permission. I won't let her be 'taken' by someone because they selfishly want to hold a baby. It's about her, not you. If you have a cough or cold you won't be allowed near her. This tiny cough in you could mean death to her delicate body. Her doctors like to remind us of that, so we like to remind all of you. Obviously, we don't do this because of YOU, but because of HER. AND, for those of you with grown children, might I ask you to close your eyes and remember the time you had just ONE, tiny baby to love and care for. Remember how you didn't want to share him/her with anyone else? Remember how you were so concerned for his/her health? A mommy has a right to be selfish with her own baby. So, when I decline you generous offers to babysit our little one, please take no offense. It's about us, not you. The day will come when we have our hands full with 2 or more kids, and we will be much more willing to take you up on your offer. For now, we are perfectly happy to tow around out little one with us, as having her near us lets us know what she is/isn't being exposed to and keeps her at peace and feeling safe. (AND because she's SO stinkin' cute and makes us laugh!)
Each day we still wonder what the future holds for our little miracle, and we pray that if it be the Lord's will, her heart will heal enough that she will not need another open-heart surgery. (At least not until she's MUCH older!) We ask you all to, please, remember our little Annibelle in your prayers each day, as she is still in a very dangerous situation with her heart. We know she is hefty, but she is very delicate on the inside. <3
To close, might I suggest that the next time you, or anyone you know thinks I'm being over-protective, read this blog; imagine this is your baby. Your experience, and retract your critical thought. And, maybe, say a prayer of gratitude that your kid(s) are healthy and well, and that this nightmare we live is just a story to you.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Crazy Cat Lady
I could have guessed, at some point in my youth, that I would one day be a so-called "crazy cat lady".I've always been fond of felines, great and small alike. I envy my sis-in-law who had a chance to work at a sanctuary with Lions, tigers and such. In fact, if you were to ask me what I most look forward to in the millennium I would tell you that it's to be able to ride on the back of a lion and approach the large cats; white tigers and black panthers included.
Before getting married, Peter and I each owned a cat (Bubble and Lammie); both of them black and white, ironically. For various reasons we left those cats with their respective 'grand parents'. (Living in an apartment made outdoor cats impossible to have).
After a couple weeks of marriage I found myself driving past a 'free kittens' sign. I called Peter and asked if we could get one, and he said sure. I ended up getting the 2 sisters in the litter, and B.D. named them for me; Katie Bug (the calico), and Lilly (the tabby).
A year later we moved into our first, and current, home. I was expecting our first child in October. 2 months prior to our daughters arrival, while helping family pack up for a cross-country move, we found a stow-away in our truck; and adorable, little, gray kitten. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of a new kitten considering my soon-to-be mommy-status, but Peter wanted to keep the boy, and it didn't take him much to convince me. So now we had 3 cats. Jacks was the new addition, and, I must add, is the best cat anyone could possibly have! He is wonderful, and we all love 'our boy', and he loves us; especially the baby. (Peter's also glad to not be the lone male in the house anymore).
Fast forward to present day. We have been attracting all the strays in the area somehow; it seems word has gotten out that we love and accept all cats, and there are quite a few sweet cats who have been abandoned. It's sad. But Peter and I are happy to do our part in caring for God's creatures, and feeding these sweet animals.
A few weeks ago Lilly disappeared; she was gone for a week and we were certain we'd never see her again. At the same time Peter's mom had kittens to get rid of. Wanting to help her out, we accepted a little orange one in Lilly's place, and named him Milo. 3 days later Jacks found Lilly and brought her home, upping our number to 4. A couple days later Jacks made a new friend, who Livvie named Pumpkin. The next morning when we opened the door to let Jacks inside, Pumpkin ran in right behind him and made himself at home. (Note that Pumpkin seems to have a home, and is only an occasional guest in our home).
Well, then there's Scruffy, the black and white stray who comes to our back door in hopes of a 'warm meal' and some affection, which he usually gets. His name speaks for his appearance. Scruffy always thanks be with a head-ponk to my hand before eating his kibble. He's sweet. =) Katie is especially fond of him.
Lastly, for now anyway, is Jade. He appeared a few days ago. Jade is mostly orange. He is LONG, TALL, and VERY SKINNY. The name came from his HUGE, green eyes. As with each of the strays that find their way to us, he is very sweet.
It's heart breaking to realize how many cats have been deserted by their owners. And, although it turns me into the cat-lady I was always afraid of becoming, I (we) are grateful that they have each been guided to us, making it possible for us to serve and love Heavenly Father's creations in our own unique way.
Before getting married, Peter and I each owned a cat (Bubble and Lammie); both of them black and white, ironically. For various reasons we left those cats with their respective 'grand parents'. (Living in an apartment made outdoor cats impossible to have).
After a couple weeks of marriage I found myself driving past a 'free kittens' sign. I called Peter and asked if we could get one, and he said sure. I ended up getting the 2 sisters in the litter, and B.D. named them for me; Katie Bug (the calico), and Lilly (the tabby).
A year later we moved into our first, and current, home. I was expecting our first child in October. 2 months prior to our daughters arrival, while helping family pack up for a cross-country move, we found a stow-away in our truck; and adorable, little, gray kitten. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of a new kitten considering my soon-to-be mommy-status, but Peter wanted to keep the boy, and it didn't take him much to convince me. So now we had 3 cats. Jacks was the new addition, and, I must add, is the best cat anyone could possibly have! He is wonderful, and we all love 'our boy', and he loves us; especially the baby. (Peter's also glad to not be the lone male in the house anymore).
Fast forward to present day. We have been attracting all the strays in the area somehow; it seems word has gotten out that we love and accept all cats, and there are quite a few sweet cats who have been abandoned. It's sad. But Peter and I are happy to do our part in caring for God's creatures, and feeding these sweet animals.
A few weeks ago Lilly disappeared; she was gone for a week and we were certain we'd never see her again. At the same time Peter's mom had kittens to get rid of. Wanting to help her out, we accepted a little orange one in Lilly's place, and named him Milo. 3 days later Jacks found Lilly and brought her home, upping our number to 4. A couple days later Jacks made a new friend, who Livvie named Pumpkin. The next morning when we opened the door to let Jacks inside, Pumpkin ran in right behind him and made himself at home. (Note that Pumpkin seems to have a home, and is only an occasional guest in our home).
Well, then there's Scruffy, the black and white stray who comes to our back door in hopes of a 'warm meal' and some affection, which he usually gets. His name speaks for his appearance. Scruffy always thanks be with a head-ponk to my hand before eating his kibble. He's sweet. =) Katie is especially fond of him.
Lastly, for now anyway, is Jade. He appeared a few days ago. Jade is mostly orange. He is LONG, TALL, and VERY SKINNY. The name came from his HUGE, green eyes. As with each of the strays that find their way to us, he is very sweet.
It's heart breaking to realize how many cats have been deserted by their owners. And, although it turns me into the cat-lady I was always afraid of becoming, I (we) are grateful that they have each been guided to us, making it possible for us to serve and love Heavenly Father's creations in our own unique way.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
What to do?
Life is full of ups and downs, year to year, month to month, day to day, moment to moment. Mine seem to be more of the "moment to moment" type.
I'm not a big fan of change; it's hard for me. I still long for the 'good old days' when my siblings and I all lived at home together, staying up late and acting like fools while eating Totino's Pizzas. I long to have both parents alive; to have a father to turn to for help with my car, house, garden... I confess that as my mother prepares for her mission with excitement, I feel as though I'm just losing my last parent and becoming an orphan; what will I do? Who do I go to for advice? Who will stay up late with me, adoring my little baby girl and eating salty thing while discussing life and beyond?
So many changes stand at our door step; what/where will the next job be? Should we buy that house we have our eye on, (assuming my Roo finally gets paid)? Is it worth leaving a house we love, for a yard we long for? (Probably). Even more importantly, do I put my baby on that new drug or not? Will it help, or just cause new problems over time. (Not a big fan of medications). With the threat of another open-heart surgery hanging over our heads, I supposed medications aren't that bad in comparison... unless it doesn't help in the slightest. Hmph.
What to do??
I'm not a big fan of change; it's hard for me. I still long for the 'good old days' when my siblings and I all lived at home together, staying up late and acting like fools while eating Totino's Pizzas. I long to have both parents alive; to have a father to turn to for help with my car, house, garden... I confess that as my mother prepares for her mission with excitement, I feel as though I'm just losing my last parent and becoming an orphan; what will I do? Who do I go to for advice? Who will stay up late with me, adoring my little baby girl and eating salty thing while discussing life and beyond?
So many changes stand at our door step; what/where will the next job be? Should we buy that house we have our eye on, (assuming my Roo finally gets paid)? Is it worth leaving a house we love, for a yard we long for? (Probably). Even more importantly, do I put my baby on that new drug or not? Will it help, or just cause new problems over time. (Not a big fan of medications). With the threat of another open-heart surgery hanging over our heads, I supposed medications aren't that bad in comparison... unless it doesn't help in the slightest. Hmph.
What to do??
Monday, June 1, 2009
Weed Killer...
A while back Peter and I bought some weed-killer; I wanted the kind you spray on each individual weed so I could be sure each one in the front yard would die. Unfortunately, as soon as it was put away, we had no idea where it was! We looked over and over in the garage, but to no avail. A couple weeks later we received a 'notice' in the mail from our Home Owners Assoc. saying that were were breaking some rule by having a dandelion in our yard. (As if I planted it there myself). Peter and I were suddenly quite happy we couldn't locate the weed-killer. =) Our way of spitting in the face of the HOA who doesn't even live here! (who the heck are they anyway?!)
Fast forward a week or so... My sister in law and I had a girls day out; it was great! And all about baby clothes! After using up our gift cards at Babies R Us we headed over to Chick Fil-A for some healthy nom. As we were ordering our food, each with a wiggly baby in our arms, I had a mommy moment and couldn't, for the life of me, remember the word "lemonade", instead all I could think was "vanilla" (Agh! Not in public!!) The guy at the register just stared at me like I was having a seizure. "Are you okay?", he asked. "Yeah; just having a mommy-moment; sorry.... Ummmm..... Uhhh......That." (I point to Rachel's cup of lemonade). Instead of understanding me, the guy thinks something's wrong with her drink! Ugh! Come on! My brain went on vacation!!!! What can I do? Finally, after laughing at myself and looking like a fool, I manage to get the right word out, and the guy behind the register begins filling my cup with lemonade,but not before giving me a strange look. While he does this, I proceed to laugh at myself and then tell Rachel how "The other day, I went to wash the bathroom mirror; I squirted on the cleaner, and before I wiped it off I sniffed...looked down at the container and realized I was holding the weed-killer I'd been looking for the last month! And it was all over my mirror!!" I felt so foolish, but had to laugh; hard. I laughed so hard I snorted. Rachel laughed too, but not hard enough to snort... all the while the guy behind the register is staring at me with concerned eyes. "Are you SURE you're OK?", he asks. I stop laughing. "Yeah. Pretty sure. As OK as any other mom", I reply. He carried our food over to the table for us, but kept that raised eyebrow look on his face that had "You escaped from the psych ward, didn't you?" written all over it.
...I still can't find the window cleaner.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Back in the Kitchen
Now that a month or so has passed since Baby-Roo's open-heart surgery, and she is a toothy 7-month old who can entertain herself for short periods of time, I am finding that if I'm quick and determined, I can manage to fit in time every now and then to make something yummy to eat! My latest discovery/creation is potato soup! I know, I know... this is hardly my usual cake/dessert creation, for which I am well known, yet, some days you just need something salty. Potato soup and homemade bread do the job quite nicely! I've made it 3 times now, and feel comfortable enough to make it w/out even glancing at a recipe. Naturally, I put my own twist on it each time!
Baking has always been a passion of mine, and I'm finally feeling brave enough to try some of the things I have always been afraid of! (Such as cooking with yeast, or meat and making a rue). I can't deny that I excitedly await the day when Baby-Roo is old enough to bake with me in the kitchen. I just hope she is filled with the passion for baking as I am. What fun we will have creating culinary masterpieces together and eating cookies!
Saturday, May 2, 2009
2 year anniversary festivities
April 30th was our 2 year anniversary. I can admit that the week leading up to it was our hardest yet; I was dreading this day we were supposed to 'celebrate', because I didn't feel like celebrating.
The night before, Peter went to a lot of work to install a night-vision camera in the bedroom that connects to our t.v. downstairs so I can watch/hear our little one sleeping when she's up and I'm down. Very sweet. It still needs to be tweaked, but will be great when I works right. That softened my heart a bit.
On the 'big day' we went to a late lunch/early dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant, El Torito. We were one of 2 couples there, and Baby-Roo had fallen asleep on the way over, so it was like we were on a date by ourselves. Unfortunately for us, the cooks had not deviened the shrimp like they were supposed to, and that kind of ruined it for me. We also ordered fried ice cream, but it was gross; I was really surprised. Luckily, the manager asked how our meal was and we told her about the shrimp, so she gave us our meal for free! I guess that made it worthwhile. We left a nice-sized tip for our server and headed over to the fashion mall so Peter could pick out a new lap top, as his old/new one recently bit the dust.
Shopping at the fashion mall was my favorite part of the date! We went into Gymboree and shopped through the sale racks; we bought all sorts of onesies for us and our new nieces, and even bought a few sun-hats for the babe. What a cutie she is!!
Next we tried to find some jeans for me; no luck. It is really hard to fit this butt with these short legs!
So, we headed back towards the Apple store, stopped in William Sonoma to look for a crepe pan; didn't want to pay $100 for it, so we moved on to the Body Shop! That was FUN! Peter let me try some little make up items on him... it was a blast! And I got to get some new eye shadow! The whole time I was in there I kept thinking of Amy, though, and how I want to buy eye cream from her, so I'd better not buy it here. lol
Peter found the newest and bestest Apple laptop he could, and Baby-Roo and I left him there to finish the job so I could feed the baby. Of course, Peter took MUCH longer than expected, so the babe and I were forced to shop for pretty shoes! Eventually Peter arrived and took a seat next to the sleeping babe while I was fitted for some cute Sunday/dress shoes. While trying on shoes a 'flaming' and envious salesman walked by, noticed Peter next to the stroller and surrounded by Apple treasures; he paused and said to Peter, "Congratulations! ....enjoy your new computer! I'm Green (with envy)". Are you kidding me? Congratulations on your computer?!?! Hello! Don't you mean, congratulations on your new baby? No offense, but gay people have some REALLY screwed up priorities. I wanted to trip the guy.
Anyway, that was pretty much our day. In all we ended up with a new laptop, printer, 3 pairs of shoes, 3 sun hats, a lot of cute baby clothes, some new makeup, a free meal, and a sleeping baby. It was a day to remember. =)
May the next two years be better and easier! ...Please.
The night before, Peter went to a lot of work to install a night-vision camera in the bedroom that connects to our t.v. downstairs so I can watch/hear our little one sleeping when she's up and I'm down. Very sweet. It still needs to be tweaked, but will be great when I works right. That softened my heart a bit.
On the 'big day' we went to a late lunch/early dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant, El Torito. We were one of 2 couples there, and Baby-Roo had fallen asleep on the way over, so it was like we were on a date by ourselves. Unfortunately for us, the cooks had not deviened the shrimp like they were supposed to, and that kind of ruined it for me. We also ordered fried ice cream, but it was gross; I was really surprised. Luckily, the manager asked how our meal was and we told her about the shrimp, so she gave us our meal for free! I guess that made it worthwhile. We left a nice-sized tip for our server and headed over to the fashion mall so Peter could pick out a new lap top, as his old/new one recently bit the dust.
Shopping at the fashion mall was my favorite part of the date! We went into Gymboree and shopped through the sale racks; we bought all sorts of onesies for us and our new nieces, and even bought a few sun-hats for the babe. What a cutie she is!!
Next we tried to find some jeans for me; no luck. It is really hard to fit this butt with these short legs!
So, we headed back towards the Apple store, stopped in William Sonoma to look for a crepe pan; didn't want to pay $100 for it, so we moved on to the Body Shop! That was FUN! Peter let me try some little make up items on him... it was a blast! And I got to get some new eye shadow! The whole time I was in there I kept thinking of Amy, though, and how I want to buy eye cream from her, so I'd better not buy it here. lol
Peter found the newest and bestest Apple laptop he could, and Baby-Roo and I left him there to finish the job so I could feed the baby. Of course, Peter took MUCH longer than expected, so the babe and I were forced to shop for pretty shoes! Eventually Peter arrived and took a seat next to the sleeping babe while I was fitted for some cute Sunday/dress shoes. While trying on shoes a 'flaming' and envious salesman walked by, noticed Peter next to the stroller and surrounded by Apple treasures; he paused and said to Peter, "Congratulations! ....enjoy your new computer! I'm Green (with envy)". Are you kidding me? Congratulations on your computer?!?! Hello! Don't you mean, congratulations on your new baby? No offense, but gay people have some REALLY screwed up priorities. I wanted to trip the guy.
Anyway, that was pretty much our day. In all we ended up with a new laptop, printer, 3 pairs of shoes, 3 sun hats, a lot of cute baby clothes, some new makeup, a free meal, and a sleeping baby. It was a day to remember. =)
May the next two years be better and easier! ...Please.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
House Hunting
A few of you may know that Peter and I are back at it again; house hunting. Yes, it's true, the one year mark of owning our first/current home is up in a few days, and it seem silly to be looking to move again so soon, right? Well, not really to us. For starters, we're not thrilled with our back yard. We went through a hassle to switch lots before the house was built because this one had a flatter yard... just a gentle slope. Well, the builders ruined that, and now we have the steepest driveway and back yard in the neighborhood. Forget putting in a swing set or garden. We have also discovered that not all neighbors are nice neighbors, and that if they smoke, we smell it. (Though, luckily, none nearby us do that. It's only when walking down certain streets do we have to make a quick U-turn). Anyway, to get to the point, we wanted/want a house we can call home and GROW as a family in. We don't want to move in 5-10 years. We want to put down roots. Now, Indiana is the last place I ever wanted to end up, but life is full of surprises. I have family here, and it's the only place I know as home. I think I'll stay, despite my qualms.
The first house we looked at was in Noblesville. Immediately we fell in love with the 20 acres of 1/2 wooded property! We loved the space and freedom! The privacy was perfect, with 3 neighbors nearby. The pole barn was HUGE and held limitless possibilities. The 2 old cabins near the front of the property were exciting to our youthful minds. Oh the possibilities! The problem? The house. Not at all what we were looking for. Small. Too small. No front room! And a deck where the living room ought to be. The family room looked as though it had been cut short a good 5-7 feet, and I knew at once that not one of our 3 couches would even fit in that room! Plus, there was no wall for a TV. Hmm... not liking it. The master bedroom was small with no room for a crib, and only had a single sink and a shower. No tub. Each bathroom only had one sink. Not impressed. We'll keep it in mind only because we LOVE The property.
The next house was in Brownsburg. Only 2 acres, but we had high hopes for this one. The front looked clean, new and nicely landscaped. It was built in 2004, so it should be pretty nice... or so we thought. We opened the door and were shocked to find that that doorknob was the only thing left attached to the house! The previous owners, who had moved out long ago, took EVERYTHING with them.. except their nasty messes! There wasn't a knob left on a door or cabinet! Even the toilet paper rolls and towel rods had been removed from the walls! The floors were disgusting! Covered in, what looked like, years of crud from children and teenagers. The sinks had dried toothpaste-spit in them, and some other frightening orange colored crud. The walls looked like they'd been torn down on accident and replaced with buckets of rough putty. In the dining room we found a HUGE hole in the ceiling, and as Peter and our realtor stood under and looked up they heard water drip! Inside the house!!!! We attempted to open the basement door, but were greeted with a strong smell of urine! At that point we grabbed the baby and ran to the car. NEXT!
Now this house really looked and sounded like everything we were looking for.. and here in Westfield too! Around 20 acres, partly wooded, 2 pole barns for our creative side! 3900 square feet of room to grow in, out in the country. We were pretty sure this sounded like "IT". We arrive with smiles, walk in the door and... our eyes start watering! Why??? SMOKERS! YUCK! Maybe if they replaced the carpet? Nope. We looked down and they already had!!!! We still looked around, and, unfortunately, I had to nurse the baby in there, as it was in the high 30's outside. We didn't stay long, but it only took 20 minutes there to leave with a sore throat and burning eyes. We checked out the pole barns on the way out. They were empty, but still smelled strongly of horses. I would have nursed the baby in there had I known how much better it smelled.
Today's house was really out there! (In the country, I mean). It's one I had looked at but dismissed because the front of the house looks a little flashier than I'd like. (I'm not a big fan of drawing attention to myself. I figure I'm safer that way). Well, Peter decided it was too cool of a house to pass up, AND, much cheaper than the "smoke house", as we call it. (What a joke that was!) This house looks like a plantation house; complete with 4 huge, white pillars holding up the house-long front porch. The house is set way back, which adds to it's drama. To the left of the house is a huge pole barn which has a 2 bed/2bath apartment inside, complete with private garage. (Nice!) There's a huge pond in front of the house... well, it's mostly empty and looks like it needs to be filled half-way in with dirt to serve the purpose of collecting rain water. We walk inside the front door and I can almost hear little angels singing, "Aaaaaaaaa". It's neat. Open. Simple. Made to look older than it is, but in a warm, welcoming way. The wood is medium in color, not white as is so popular right now. I usually prefer white. I LOVED This. It felt like home. The kitchen isn't huge like my current one, but it's open and very do-able! The master bedroom is on the main floor; not a huge fan of that, but I'm willing to compromise. In the basement is a quaint area for movie watching, another area for whatever (pool table, work-out equipment, you name it). Connected to that is an in-law quarters, complete with a full kitchen and living room! We would probably make that Peter's office so he could actually focus and have room to hire an employee or two. Oh, did I mention it's a walk-out basement? Nice. The upstairs holds the kids rooms, each with a closet the size of a room... which has a door to the unfinished attic. (A little dry wall and paint and it's a play room! ...there are 2 of those!) There's a tiny little loft which could serve as the family computer room (we don't want anyone looking at naughty things!), and stairs from there lead up to another attic for storage... or perhaps, someday, another room! It's the perfect house to grow with! There are also 5 restrooms in the house. Awesome.
Peter took me some horrible round-about way to get there. We must have driven through at least 18 "towns" no one ever knew existed. It about ruined the house for me. But, on the way back I chose the directions and after 10 miles on the main road we hopped onto 69; within 15 minutes from there I'd passed a mall, the pediatrician and the chiropractor and had almost reached Castleton mall. Yep. This place was reachable. (without going through 18 "towns", and without going 15 mph the whole way for 2 hours). 40 minutes later we were in our living room, and on a major high! We may have just found our (almost) dream house! (WOOHOO!!!) Now if a certain someone would hand over Peter's hard-earned dough...!
To be continued...
The first house we looked at was in Noblesville. Immediately we fell in love with the 20 acres of 1/2 wooded property! We loved the space and freedom! The privacy was perfect, with 3 neighbors nearby. The pole barn was HUGE and held limitless possibilities. The 2 old cabins near the front of the property were exciting to our youthful minds. Oh the possibilities! The problem? The house. Not at all what we were looking for. Small. Too small. No front room! And a deck where the living room ought to be. The family room looked as though it had been cut short a good 5-7 feet, and I knew at once that not one of our 3 couches would even fit in that room! Plus, there was no wall for a TV. Hmm... not liking it. The master bedroom was small with no room for a crib, and only had a single sink and a shower. No tub. Each bathroom only had one sink. Not impressed. We'll keep it in mind only because we LOVE The property.
The next house was in Brownsburg. Only 2 acres, but we had high hopes for this one. The front looked clean, new and nicely landscaped. It was built in 2004, so it should be pretty nice... or so we thought. We opened the door and were shocked to find that that doorknob was the only thing left attached to the house! The previous owners, who had moved out long ago, took EVERYTHING with them.. except their nasty messes! There wasn't a knob left on a door or cabinet! Even the toilet paper rolls and towel rods had been removed from the walls! The floors were disgusting! Covered in, what looked like, years of crud from children and teenagers. The sinks had dried toothpaste-spit in them, and some other frightening orange colored crud. The walls looked like they'd been torn down on accident and replaced with buckets of rough putty. In the dining room we found a HUGE hole in the ceiling, and as Peter and our realtor stood under and looked up they heard water drip! Inside the house!!!! We attempted to open the basement door, but were greeted with a strong smell of urine! At that point we grabbed the baby and ran to the car. NEXT!
Now this house really looked and sounded like everything we were looking for.. and here in Westfield too! Around 20 acres, partly wooded, 2 pole barns for our creative side! 3900 square feet of room to grow in, out in the country. We were pretty sure this sounded like "IT". We arrive with smiles, walk in the door and... our eyes start watering! Why??? SMOKERS! YUCK! Maybe if they replaced the carpet? Nope. We looked down and they already had!!!! We still looked around, and, unfortunately, I had to nurse the baby in there, as it was in the high 30's outside. We didn't stay long, but it only took 20 minutes there to leave with a sore throat and burning eyes. We checked out the pole barns on the way out. They were empty, but still smelled strongly of horses. I would have nursed the baby in there had I known how much better it smelled.
Today's house was really out there! (In the country, I mean). It's one I had looked at but dismissed because the front of the house looks a little flashier than I'd like. (I'm not a big fan of drawing attention to myself. I figure I'm safer that way). Well, Peter decided it was too cool of a house to pass up, AND, much cheaper than the "smoke house", as we call it. (What a joke that was!) This house looks like a plantation house; complete with 4 huge, white pillars holding up the house-long front porch. The house is set way back, which adds to it's drama. To the left of the house is a huge pole barn which has a 2 bed/2bath apartment inside, complete with private garage. (Nice!) There's a huge pond in front of the house... well, it's mostly empty and looks like it needs to be filled half-way in with dirt to serve the purpose of collecting rain water. We walk inside the front door and I can almost hear little angels singing, "Aaaaaaaaa". It's neat. Open. Simple. Made to look older than it is, but in a warm, welcoming way. The wood is medium in color, not white as is so popular right now. I usually prefer white. I LOVED This. It felt like home. The kitchen isn't huge like my current one, but it's open and very do-able! The master bedroom is on the main floor; not a huge fan of that, but I'm willing to compromise. In the basement is a quaint area for movie watching, another area for whatever (pool table, work-out equipment, you name it). Connected to that is an in-law quarters, complete with a full kitchen and living room! We would probably make that Peter's office so he could actually focus and have room to hire an employee or two. Oh, did I mention it's a walk-out basement? Nice. The upstairs holds the kids rooms, each with a closet the size of a room... which has a door to the unfinished attic. (A little dry wall and paint and it's a play room! ...there are 2 of those!) There's a tiny little loft which could serve as the family computer room (we don't want anyone looking at naughty things!), and stairs from there lead up to another attic for storage... or perhaps, someday, another room! It's the perfect house to grow with! There are also 5 restrooms in the house. Awesome.
Peter took me some horrible round-about way to get there. We must have driven through at least 18 "towns" no one ever knew existed. It about ruined the house for me. But, on the way back I chose the directions and after 10 miles on the main road we hopped onto 69; within 15 minutes from there I'd passed a mall, the pediatrician and the chiropractor and had almost reached Castleton mall. Yep. This place was reachable. (without going through 18 "towns", and without going 15 mph the whole way for 2 hours). 40 minutes later we were in our living room, and on a major high! We may have just found our (almost) dream house! (WOOHOO!!!) Now if a certain someone would hand over Peter's hard-earned dough...!
To be continued...
Saturday, March 14, 2009
My Little Angel
I sit here at the computer, my beautiful babe asleep in my arms, but not peacefully; she's having a night terror. She's had them since she was born. This sweet babe died in the birth canal and the memory of it haunts her dreams at times, which breaks my heart. Nothing I do can remove that painful memory from her mind. As I look ahead to the events of next week, I wonder if there will be another painful memory added to her subconscious. It's difficult to think about what this tiny, young babe is about to endure; I'd take her place in a moment if I could.
Baby-Roo is tender-hearted, but full of sass! She inherited her mommy's strong will and attitude, and even my dimple! (My best feature, if you ask me!) She is a bright little girl who loves music and bright colors. She is addicted to the television; well sort of. She watches Baby Einstein and doesn't understand that not everything on that screen is for her eyes. It's funny to watch her wrench her head around to see the screen when I turn her away from it!
This wee one is a trooper! At just 3 1/2 months she got her first tooth. Now, just barely 5 months old, she has 3 little teeth, all on the bottom, biggest to smallest, left to right. I named them Lucy, Dewy and Trixie. (I know I'm wierd). She insists on placing my finger on top of the tallest/sharpest tooth and biting down. Hard. I keep checking the top gums for signs of teeth, but can't see any. She must just like the way I taste.
Baby-Roo is a chatter-box! She especially loves to talk my ear off when I change her diaper or try to nurse her to sleep at night. She smiles up at me with her bright, trusting eyes, and that heart-melting, dimpled smile! When I wake up exhausted and grumpy, this tactic works best to put a smile on my face. Recently she's begun sucking in her bottom lip and blowing spit bubbles. (So cute!) I can always tell when she's officially woken up when I hear her doing this.
This next week will be very hard on both of us, but I pray that it doesn't change this happy baby of mine from being the care-free, trusting babe that she is now. She is my little angel.
Baby-Roo is tender-hearted, but full of sass! She inherited her mommy's strong will and attitude, and even my dimple! (My best feature, if you ask me!) She is a bright little girl who loves music and bright colors. She is addicted to the television; well sort of. She watches Baby Einstein and doesn't understand that not everything on that screen is for her eyes. It's funny to watch her wrench her head around to see the screen when I turn her away from it!
This wee one is a trooper! At just 3 1/2 months she got her first tooth. Now, just barely 5 months old, she has 3 little teeth, all on the bottom, biggest to smallest, left to right. I named them Lucy, Dewy and Trixie. (I know I'm wierd). She insists on placing my finger on top of the tallest/sharpest tooth and biting down. Hard. I keep checking the top gums for signs of teeth, but can't see any. She must just like the way I taste.
Baby-Roo is a chatter-box! She especially loves to talk my ear off when I change her diaper or try to nurse her to sleep at night. She smiles up at me with her bright, trusting eyes, and that heart-melting, dimpled smile! When I wake up exhausted and grumpy, this tactic works best to put a smile on my face. Recently she's begun sucking in her bottom lip and blowing spit bubbles. (So cute!) I can always tell when she's officially woken up when I hear her doing this.
This next week will be very hard on both of us, but I pray that it doesn't change this happy baby of mine from being the care-free, trusting babe that she is now. She is my little angel.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Bittersweet
Last Tuesday Peter and I drove our little Annibelle to Riley Hospital in Indianapolis for a check-up on her heart. I'm always nervous when going to these appointments, as I always receive bad news; the kind that breaks my heart into a thousand pieces. I put on a brave smile, though, and carried my precious babe into the first room for her 'echo'. They asked if I'd like to hold her during the test, and I said "yes!" (the uptown location we'd been to in the past never let me hold her during this miserable, long test).
I climbed up onto the bed and unsnapped Annibelle's shirt for the test. I tried to allow myself to be distracted by "The Bee Movie" they had playing on the T.V. screen, and was glad Annibelle seemed to like it, but I couldn't help but peek at the echo monitor and see all the blue blood mixing with the red... I hardly understood what else I was seeing, but I knew it wasn't good. It never is. After more than an hour and a half of testing we finally got to snap up the baby and move to the next room to wait for the cardiologist to give us the results.
10 minutes later Dr. Farrell walks in and, in her unnaturally BOOMING voice, begins telling us all the bad news; "her arteries are too small, the valve is narrowing, she can't pump the blood she needs, she should be on the medication, if she were a newborn we'd schedule an immediate surgery!...." The list went on. Finally, though, a light at the end of the tunnel. Because of her large size and weight (which is truly rare for a baby with heart disease), they are willing to schedule the open heart surgery (the full repair!!!) for next month, even though she'll only be 5 months old.
I'd thought of this moment MANY times in the past 4 1/2 months; always playing it out in my mind, and how I might react. I was surprised to find that I felt relief. Relief that at some future date I wouldn't have to be afraid of my baby dying every time she cries. Relief that she will live, and live a happy, active life! Relief that every moment with her might not be the last. I was actually happy about the news!
We didn't get back home for another hour and a half, and when we did I started to come down from my 'high'. Peter went into his office to work, and I went into the family room to take care of our baby. As I sat down with her in my arms, tears began streaming down my face. Tears a relief, and now, tears of fear. With the surgery scheduled for just one month away, could I keep her alive? Though I filled the perscription for Annibelle, (the one that would slow her heart rate down and possibly help save her in an emergency), I just don't feel right about giving it to her. I worry that if she has an emergency and dies, that I could never forgive myself if I could have prevented it. I worry that something might go wrong with the surgery... or with the healing. I'm afraid for her; for the pain and fear she may feel. How I wish I could protect her from it all. I know I won't leave her side while she's in the hospital. I pray for her constantly, and know that it will all work out. She's strong. Stonger than me, I think.
When you get the life changing news that you're pregnant, you never expect to be faced with challenges such as this. It could be better... It could be worse. I'm just grateful for each day, and each moment I have with this little angel of mine. A simple "gummy" smile from her lights up my day.
I climbed up onto the bed and unsnapped Annibelle's shirt for the test. I tried to allow myself to be distracted by "The Bee Movie" they had playing on the T.V. screen, and was glad Annibelle seemed to like it, but I couldn't help but peek at the echo monitor and see all the blue blood mixing with the red... I hardly understood what else I was seeing, but I knew it wasn't good. It never is. After more than an hour and a half of testing we finally got to snap up the baby and move to the next room to wait for the cardiologist to give us the results.
10 minutes later Dr. Farrell walks in and, in her unnaturally BOOMING voice, begins telling us all the bad news; "her arteries are too small, the valve is narrowing, she can't pump the blood she needs, she should be on the medication, if she were a newborn we'd schedule an immediate surgery!...." The list went on. Finally, though, a light at the end of the tunnel. Because of her large size and weight (which is truly rare for a baby with heart disease), they are willing to schedule the open heart surgery (the full repair!!!) for next month, even though she'll only be 5 months old.
I'd thought of this moment MANY times in the past 4 1/2 months; always playing it out in my mind, and how I might react. I was surprised to find that I felt relief. Relief that at some future date I wouldn't have to be afraid of my baby dying every time she cries. Relief that she will live, and live a happy, active life! Relief that every moment with her might not be the last. I was actually happy about the news!
We didn't get back home for another hour and a half, and when we did I started to come down from my 'high'. Peter went into his office to work, and I went into the family room to take care of our baby. As I sat down with her in my arms, tears began streaming down my face. Tears a relief, and now, tears of fear. With the surgery scheduled for just one month away, could I keep her alive? Though I filled the perscription for Annibelle, (the one that would slow her heart rate down and possibly help save her in an emergency), I just don't feel right about giving it to her. I worry that if she has an emergency and dies, that I could never forgive myself if I could have prevented it. I worry that something might go wrong with the surgery... or with the healing. I'm afraid for her; for the pain and fear she may feel. How I wish I could protect her from it all. I know I won't leave her side while she's in the hospital. I pray for her constantly, and know that it will all work out. She's strong. Stonger than me, I think.
When you get the life changing news that you're pregnant, you never expect to be faced with challenges such as this. It could be better... It could be worse. I'm just grateful for each day, and each moment I have with this little angel of mine. A simple "gummy" smile from her lights up my day.
The Ghost of Christmas Future...
I went to get my hair done a couple weeks ago. It had been 5+ months since the last visit to my hairstylist (which also happens to be my brother-in-law), and I was feeling rather unattractive. I decided I needed something bold to distract me from the stretch marks and such; something attractive I could focus on instead. We decided on a deep red; I'd had a similar color before and liked it a lot.
While Matt began to apply the color to my hair, he paused and said, "Look at that. I found a gray hair." I didn't believe him at first, but he had proof. There it was. Bold and proud. I gasped and pulled it out! I stared at is as I felt my youth slipping away. I imagined myself a ways down the road of life; all gray, bent over, and with even more stretch marks. I gasped again!
Peter walked back in the room about now and I raised my hand with the hair in it and said, "Look what you've done. You've given me my first gray hair!" (Okay, so it's probably really a gift from Annibelle, but I figured Peter needed just one so he wouldn't feel left out).
When we got home, after taking care of the baby, I taped that gray hair in my journal and wrote an entry; i'd neglected that little book far to long.
Finding that first, little gray hair was like having a visit from the ghost of Christmas future... in a nursing home. ...kind of puts things into perspective. There's a lot of life to live, and the clock is ticking! I think I'll go have a Reese's.
While Matt began to apply the color to my hair, he paused and said, "Look at that. I found a gray hair." I didn't believe him at first, but he had proof. There it was. Bold and proud. I gasped and pulled it out! I stared at is as I felt my youth slipping away. I imagined myself a ways down the road of life; all gray, bent over, and with even more stretch marks. I gasped again!
Peter walked back in the room about now and I raised my hand with the hair in it and said, "Look what you've done. You've given me my first gray hair!" (Okay, so it's probably really a gift from Annibelle, but I figured Peter needed just one so he wouldn't feel left out).
When we got home, after taking care of the baby, I taped that gray hair in my journal and wrote an entry; i'd neglected that little book far to long.
Finding that first, little gray hair was like having a visit from the ghost of Christmas future... in a nursing home. ...kind of puts things into perspective. There's a lot of life to live, and the clock is ticking! I think I'll go have a Reese's.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Sorry 'bout that sir
While grocery shopping yesterday I managed to run off with an old man's cart; on accident of course. Peter had been off pushing the baby in her stroller. Naturally, he showed up just in time for the old man to come over and ask me if I'd 'run off with the wrong cart'. I looked down. Hmm... I looked back to where I had just been. Yep. Sure enough, there was my cart. Over by the cookie dough. Oops. Sorry 'bout that, sir, but I recently lost my sanity.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Stupid Cats/5 more minutes
As the mother of an almost-4-month-old I don't get a whole lot of sleep. Basically, I try to only wake up just enough to do a quick diaper change, and move Annibelle to the other side so I can, hopefully, fall back asleep nursing her. My demon cat, Lammie, makes this really difficult, as she insists on sleeping in our room with us. (Which is usually a good idea, since she beats up Katie whenever she can get her cornered). The annoying part is that she is noisy... always knocking things over, scratching the scratch pad, or hitting the door to get out (or Jacks is pounding on it to get in). Lately, though, whenever I get up and head to the bathroom Lammie thinks it's because I need to feed her a can of food, (even though she has dry food in her dish). So around 6am this morning we go through this routine, but this time, as soon as I snuck back into bed, I heard a noise... What was she doing this time? I sat up to look; eeew. She threw up the can of food... right by the bedroom door! (Note to all: this is not normal behavior for my cats). I decide to let it go until I officially get up. I lay back down and close my eyes; Peter starts snoring. I hit him. Again, I try to fall back asleep... Lammie starts scratching the scratch pad; she stops. I close my eyes... The door starts banging around; I look for Lammie. It's Jacks on the other side trying to get in! I nudge Peter; he lets Jacks in. Jacks jumps on us and wants to lay on the baby... the SLEEPING baby. I nudge Peter and whisper for him to toss Jacks out; he does. Lay head back down... Lammie's at the door wanting out, and making a lot of noise about it. Finally I beg Peter to just throw all the cats outside, or somewhere; just don't wake the baby! Just let me get some sleep!!! I roll over and close my eyes, praying for some peace and quiet so I can sleep... then Annibelle starts fussing a bit; time to nurse again.
2 hours of sleep were lost.
Grrrrr...!
Stupid cats.
(Jacks got back in later and wanted to eat the vomit. Gross.)
(Katie threw up on the kitchen floor later in the day.... must have all caught a bug. Lucky me).
2 hours of sleep were lost.
Grrrrr...!
Stupid cats.
(Jacks got back in later and wanted to eat the vomit. Gross.)
(Katie threw up on the kitchen floor later in the day.... must have all caught a bug. Lucky me).
Monday, February 2, 2009
Absent minded chicken kabobs
My neighbor came over the other night to chat and fix food with me. My task? To cook the frozen chicken-kabobs in the oven, (while holding a conversation with her, and watching the baby). Well, as I mentioned previously, my multitasking skills have gone down the drain since becoming a mother, and this evening, in particular, I was really struggling! As I listened to her chatting, while stealing glances of Annibelle watching Baby Einstein from her bouncer, I proceeded to "prepare" the kabobs.
I turned on the oven, pulled out a baking sheet, covered it in foil and sprayed it for ultimate 'non-stickness". I then removed 1/2 of the frozen kabobs from their package and placed them on the prepared baking sheet while I tried desperately to check on the baby, and hold a conversation with my friend. (I confess, I was thinking about laundry too...).
Next, I put the remaining kabobs in a freezer storage bag and placed it in the freezer... or so I thought. When I turned around to put the baking sheet/kabobs into the oven, there were no kabobs on it! Where had they gone?! I looked over at the counter and realized I had put the ones from the baking sheet into the freezer! (duh!) Simple fix, right? Not if you're me! Rather than doing the obvious fix, and putting the extra kabobs (still in the packaging) onto the baking sheet, I, instead, pulled the freezer bag out of the freezer, replaced the kabobs to their previous 'pan positions', and proceeded to put the remaining, packaged kabobs into the freezer bag, and then into the freezer.
All the while, my friend is just staring at me, shaking her head. "Wow.", she said. "Wow."
I then put myself on time out and let her finish the baking.
...the kabobs were great.
(Can't help but look in the mirror and ask, "Who are you, and what have you done with my sanity?!"
I turned on the oven, pulled out a baking sheet, covered it in foil and sprayed it for ultimate 'non-stickness". I then removed 1/2 of the frozen kabobs from their package and placed them on the prepared baking sheet while I tried desperately to check on the baby, and hold a conversation with my friend. (I confess, I was thinking about laundry too...).
Next, I put the remaining kabobs in a freezer storage bag and placed it in the freezer... or so I thought. When I turned around to put the baking sheet/kabobs into the oven, there were no kabobs on it! Where had they gone?! I looked over at the counter and realized I had put the ones from the baking sheet into the freezer! (duh!) Simple fix, right? Not if you're me! Rather than doing the obvious fix, and putting the extra kabobs (still in the packaging) onto the baking sheet, I, instead, pulled the freezer bag out of the freezer, replaced the kabobs to their previous 'pan positions', and proceeded to put the remaining, packaged kabobs into the freezer bag, and then into the freezer.
All the while, my friend is just staring at me, shaking her head. "Wow.", she said. "Wow."
I then put myself on time out and let her finish the baking.
...the kabobs were great.
(Can't help but look in the mirror and ask, "Who are you, and what have you done with my sanity?!"
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Diaper? What diaper?
New born babies don't allow new born mommies a chance to sleep much, especially when the wee one is teething and is full of gassy tummy aches. Naturally, this leaves the tired mommy a bit absent-minded... so it should have come as no shock to me when I noticed my tiny tot all dressed up with no where "to go". I mean that quite literally. Where was her diaper? Because it certainly wasn't on her little bum!
Once upon a time...
Once upon a time, I was a very talented person. At the interview for my most recent job I was asked the question, "What is your strongest quality?", my response? Multitasking. I could do it all! My sister, Kimra, used to call me "The Cleaning Tornado". I could clean her entire house, feed her kids and be working on the laundry in under an hour. I remember thinking to myself, 'this is easy. I'll be a great mom!' Well, it turns out there's a little secret about being a mother, and that is, when you become a mother, you are given a gift; a gift you'd rather not receive, and it is called, (drum roll please)... "Mommy Brain". Oh the joy of this gift! It turns an amazing woman, like my former self, into and absolute twit, like my current self.
Just this past week Annibelle received her very first tooth! (I couldn't be more proud of her for accomplishing such an amazing thing 3 1/2 months early!) Anyway, the 4 days before that cute little tooth made it's first appearance, my sweet, little polkadot, (as I call her), turned into a fire-spitting gremlin! What had become of my sweet little babe?! So I asked her. I held her up and said, "Who are you, and what have you done with my sweet, little babe?" The irony of this, is that just last night, after a particular spell of 'Mommy Brain', Peter said he should hold me up and say, "Who are you, and what have you done with wife". (I think he really meant, what have you done with my wife's sanity).
Alas, the greatest gift of all, becoming a mother, comes with the least desired gift, that of going from Einstein to idiot over night. It's a hard bite to chew. HOWEVER, on the bright side, it has, and will continue to, provide me with hilarious stories to share with you, (which never would have even been possible, back in my "Einstein days").
So, welcome to my blog! And join with me in laughing at myself in my new state of motherhood, and "idiocity".
Just this past week Annibelle received her very first tooth! (I couldn't be more proud of her for accomplishing such an amazing thing 3 1/2 months early!) Anyway, the 4 days before that cute little tooth made it's first appearance, my sweet, little polkadot, (as I call her), turned into a fire-spitting gremlin! What had become of my sweet little babe?! So I asked her. I held her up and said, "Who are you, and what have you done with my sweet, little babe?" The irony of this, is that just last night, after a particular spell of 'Mommy Brain', Peter said he should hold me up and say, "Who are you, and what have you done with wife". (I think he really meant, what have you done with my wife's sanity).
Alas, the greatest gift of all, becoming a mother, comes with the least desired gift, that of going from Einstein to idiot over night. It's a hard bite to chew. HOWEVER, on the bright side, it has, and will continue to, provide me with hilarious stories to share with you, (which never would have even been possible, back in my "Einstein days").
So, welcome to my blog! And join with me in laughing at myself in my new state of motherhood, and "idiocity".
Spilt Milk
I sat on the couch, eating a bowl of shredded wheat cereal. Peter and Annibelle sat in the recliner beside me. As a commercial came on, I unconsciously began shaking my 'empty' bowl to the beat of the music playing. Suddenly I felt something cold and wet all over my legs and feet; you guessed it, it was milk... Milk and a million of those little shredded wheat bits. Not only were my pajamas and feet covered in this, but also the couch and the floor. As I put my head in my hand, thinking, "what has happened to me?!", Jacks began licking up the remaining milk from the bowl, still in my right hand... I thought to myself, "story of my life". (My NEW life, that is). Peter just shook his head and laughed. Welcome to mommy-hood!