MonkeyBoy in Action

Milk Coma




Awake and Hungry

Welcome to Our World!

We needed to celebrate. My prenatal visit went very well: still a healthy boy waiting to come into the world. There's no sign of dropping, so we were in it for the next two weeks or more. From what the doctor could feel, his head was still in proper position. Just the torture of waiting needed to resume.

Well, I came home and made dinner.  And what a dinner I made!  I cooked the best steaks to-date. I fried them with Worcestershire sauce and chianti, topped with sauteed onions and mushrooms cooked in white wine, and added a side baked potato and sauteed garlic spinach.

Following our subsequent food coma and TV, I meandered into bed and tried to find my "comfortable" position in the nursery. For the last couple weeks, it seems my son's trundle bed was my only refuge. I finally fell into sleep, only to be awakened by a snap...on the inside. It didn't hurt, but it definitely wasn't normal. Then a gush of warm water started to come out.

I jumped out of bed, so as not to make a mess. Each step I took another gush of water came out.

"Honey!"
"Yeah?"
"I think my water just broke."

I managed to get to the bathroom and proceeded to sit on the commode. It seemed to be the only place I could stay without leaking all over the place. It was at this point the tears started flowing and the fear of what was about to happen settled in. Holy shit, I was going to give birth! NukeBoy called the hospital to tell them what was happening. The doctor called us back and told us to start heading to the ER.

Five minutes later, contractions started. At first, I wasn't sure what they were; they didn't hurt all that bad, but they were coming every six minutes. A lot faster than I was expecting.

NukeBoy managed to get everything into the car while I was forced to sit in the bathroom with a perpetually turned on faucet. Each time I tried to get up and help, another gush of fluid came running down my legs. How much water can you break, anyway?

Thank God we only live five minutes from the hospital, since that was about how long my contractions were. We piled towels on the seat and headed out. When we got there, I waddled into the ER; it was a dead zone. We had to buzz the door in order to get someone to come out and bring us a wheel chair.

I remember the small-chat in the ER waiting for the maternity nurses to come down and get us. I'm contracting away, doing my ojai breathing, while my husband and the ER attendant are chit-chatting about names. Where the hell was that nurse? Shouldn't they be moving a little faster? I mean, there was a freakishly large thing trying to claw out of me!

FINALLY, the nurse arrived and they moved me up to the maternity ward. I was undressed where, guess what, more water spilled all over the floor. With every contraction, more and more fluid was coming out. Was this normal? With any luck, a large portion of the 45 pounds I gained was leaving a trail from my bathroom to this hospital.

I labored through some more contractions. They were starting to get stronger, as attested to my husband's crushed hand. The nurse examined me and it looked like I was already at five centimeters. Jeez, that only took about an hour and half.

Epidural, please!

Unfortunately, the epidural process was a nightmare. Trying to labor through my contractions while staying perfectly still so the catheter could be put in place was horrendous. Plus, NukeBoy had a cough which prevented him from coming anywhere near me while the catheter was going in. I had to lean forward with my head down as the nurses held me. My muscles started to cramp in my neck. I was in so much pain from the contractions and the uncomfortable position, I just wanted to die.

Of course, Murphy's Law: the epidural didn't work. They had to do it again. Not just again, but with THREE entry points.

Over an hour later, the epidurals were in place, and I was finally coasting. "I can do this!"

That was, of course, until the doctor said that it wasn't his head she was seeing coming down. It was his cheek. He was coming down face first; it was too late for a vaginal birth. I had to be prepped for an emergency c-section.

My heart sank. Everything happened so fast. I remember the doctor telling NukeBoy to go get the camera and change into scrubs. The next thing I new I was being wheeled into the OR. The anesthesia wasn't working. I could still feel the doctor poking me. Plus, my body had decided to go into spasms, and I couldn't stop shaking head to toe. I had to be put almost completely under.

The room started to go gray, then the ringing started in my ears. Everything became surreal. I could hear myself moaning with every breath. NukeBoy was reassuring me that he was there and everything was going to be ok. I felt a lot of tugging and pushing. Then I heard the doctor laugh. It wasn't my baby's cheek that was coming out, but his scrotum. He was completely breech.

Then I heard it: his cry. My baby was crying. It was the sweetest sound I ever heard. Everything was ok. Ten fingers, ten toes, an abnormally swollen scrotum thanks to me trying to deliver him that way for two hours, but a healthy 6 lb 13.5 oz baby boy. NukeBoy tried to bring him over to me, but I remember the anesthesiologist saying that I was completely out of it and wouldn't remember it. That really angers me, since I will always remember that damn stupid conversation and not seeing my son the moment he was born. I definitely would have remembered my son.

It took forever. I was wheeled back to my room. Where was he? I needed to see him. I needed to hold him. This little creature that's been unknowingly killing me for eight and a half months had to get into my arms. Now.

Then he came.

Absolute perfection. I was staring at pure perfection.

MonkeyBoy

6 lbs 13.5 oz
20.5 inches
4:21 AM
11/23/10

Yankee Doodle Dandy,
– TYG

Confessions of Beached Whales

Ok, so my husband keeps staring at me in complete awe at my belly. He's shocked that my body has the ability to do what it has been doing the past 38 weeks.  I personally can't believe how large I've gotten. I thought with my tiny stature before pregnancy (I mourn daily for my 120-pound, size 4 frame) that I'd be lucky if I had a five-pound baby and gained 15 pounds.  

   

Well, 45 pounds later and an additional 28 inches around, here I am, with what my doctor thinks will be an eight pound bundle of joy.

This decision my husband and I made to grow our family was not taken lightly. We always knew and understood the consequences of bringing another life into the world and being responsible for that life, not just in feeding and care, but to raise a loving, caring, and empathetic person that will become a worth while contribution to society.

I also envisioned the beauty of pregnancy, of the glory of feeling life inside me growing, as the epitome of what it is to be a woman.

Well, what they don't teach you in health class in high school is ALL the joys of pregnancy. If they did, there sure as hell would be less or zero teenage pregnancies.

My personal experience has been three months of nausea, then we moved to the debilitating migraines for the second trimester. Barely out of the second trimester when the contractions started and the first signs of symphysis pubis dysfunction showed up. And for those that don't know what that is, it basically means EVERY MOVEMENT feels like my pubis bone is going to break in half. Walking is not an option. 

Because of the way I'm carrying, my poor, tiny frame can barely handle the size of my son. My entire abdomen has felt like it has been tearing for the last eight weeks. Ligament pulls, cramps, contractions, and his constant head noogies on my cervix and bladder have really made me doubt I could do this willingly again. The pain is inordinate.

Oh, and let's not forget the constant acid reflux and flatulence. I have been able to start our fireplace by just breathing on the kindling and can't make a move without passing gas...all day. I mean it! I have been one big fart for 8.5 months! I'm sure some 15-year-old would love to get pregnant during high school knowing they're going to fart in front of their friends all day long at school! Gross!

The only thing I have not had to worry about are bowel movements and hemorrhoids so far. Haven't experienced any type of constipation, so I can knock on wood and thank the powers that be for small miracles.

I truly do envy women who have easy, or at least easier, pregnancies. What I think is scary is that there are women who have even harder pregnancies than what I've gone through. However, I do know it's all about perspective. Especially when there are so many deserving couples in the world who can't even experience all these joys.

Well, I'm more than willing to share all of my personal pregnancy "joys" with anyone who wants them.

Anyone?

Hello?

Is this thing on?

**cue crickets***

Yankee Doodle Dandy, 

–TYG

Movin' Groovin' & Hiccups from Mama's Point of View

Not sure how much you'll be able to see, but baby-boy has the hiccups here, and is rolling all over.

Baby's Room

It's been a long, hot, and sweaty summer, but I feel confident, that today I'm done with the baby's room.

Click Pics to Enlarge

As I had mentioned before, due to lack of storage space, we decided to put NukeBoy's boyhood trundle bed in the room. Hanging over the bed is an old, six-paned window that is suspended by a Monkey Chain knot. In the corner are the buoys I repainted, and over the side dresser is a print I found in a New Bedford antique store of "The Wasp."

I would ultimately like to find single post, brass drawer pulls with backplate for the side dresser to match the hardware on the trundle bed and toy chest. Of course, I found four out of five at a salvage store in New Bedford. Always the way...

On the side dresser is the anchor lamp, picture of Daddy from Block Island, and a giant conk shell. 

Over the side of the trundle bed I hung another anchor, four picture frames that I would like to fill with family holding little punkin', and a shelf I painted to match the wall holding all kinds of mini nautical trinkets. 

  

Although, this family's pretty happy.

The trinkets include tiny boats in bottles, beach sand from Galilee, a deck prism from Mystic Seaport along with an adorable glass whale, tiny prints of various ships from the 18th and 19th century, and a model replica of "The Flying Cloud" that was given to my grandfather by my mother.

Under the shelf is an aptly titled coat rack. 

When you enter the room, you are greeted by his little rocking chair with stacked nautical storage boxes where he can hide all his treasure, along with his new crib.

If we do decide on Archer for his name, I'm lucky to have found the needed letters in a box of old spelling blocks, which I placed on a life preserver ring shelving unit. 

The back of the room toward the windows is the changing table and rocking chair. I can also see Daddy's monkey's fist hanging from the closet that Mommy got him in Bar Harbor, ME.

Here's a better view of his crib. I wrapped a breathable bumper around the rails to prevent little arms and hands from getting caught; breathable so as to prevent SIDS.

Hanging over his crib will be quilted square panels that will match his crib quilt, also a stack of fish.

Another awesome find was this cedar chest and drawer I found in a consignment shop that perfectly matches the trundle bed.

All in all, I'm very happy with the room. It definitely has a boy's feel to it, but isn't screaming "I'm an infant!" with pastel colors, Winnie the Pooh, and fluffy bunnies.

Blah.

Now, I just need baby boy to fill this room with noise, laughter, and love.

Yankee Doodle Dandy,
-TYG

Before and After

The first items I tweaked were these great finds at a local flea market. These buoys were pretty dull and nasty, and obviously, didn't mate with the color scheme of the room. Simple fix: wash thoroughly, scrape off the loose, old paint, then repainted with the baby's standard color scheme of navy, sky blue, yellow, and white.

Before
Click pics to enlarge

After

The next item I wanted him to have is a homemade afghan from Mommy. His trundle bed is very blue, with no other color. I thought I would introduce that great light, lemon-yellow by making this ripple throw. Seven skeins later, here is the finished product:

       

The third and largest project by far was refurbishing this changing table to the room's color schemes. NukeBoy and I had to sand all the pieces down, then a coat of brown spray paint was adhered. The next steps were to cover the shelving with fabric that matched the room. I topped it off with a brand new contoured changing pad, and the best advice I received so far: covered the pad with the exact color of his bed sheets by purchasing king sized pillow covers. These covers fit perfectly, match his current set, are very cheap, and wash very easily.

Next step: making his crib quilt.

Things are moving right along! Pretty busy mommy, over here!

Yankee Doodle Dandy,
-TYG

Mission Possible

Click on images to enlarge

Today's mission, if you choose to accept it, is to build an all-terrain infant transport vehicle from this pile of...stuff. 


As always, should you or your spouse be caught or killed, the manufacturer will disavow any knowledge of your actions. 


This tape will self-destruct in five seconds. Good luck.

Luckily, I was successful, and no one was harmed during the assembly. Especially the cats.  

This three-wheel, off-road, mobile unit has a large storage basket on the under carriage, two side saddles, four cup holders, reclining seat,  12" inflatable wheels, lockable swivel front wheel, 'I Drive' entertainment toy includes horn, car sounds and music and attaches to swivel child tray with cup and snack holders, and the big sell, 'iBaby' sound system easily connects to your iPod and MP3 player for everyone's listening pleasure.

What's great, is that our new Snug Ride car seat fits perfectly in the carriage so as not to disturb a perfectly content and sleeping infant. 

And let's not forget or overlook the importance of four cup holders. Daddy has his priority and soda addiction to maintain.

And fits one cat comfortably.  

Yankee Doodle Dandy,

- TYG

The Luxury That is High Chair

Click Images to Enlarge

The first item from my baby registry has arrived. This bad boy is the epitome of comfort and style.  Features include:


• Locking wheels
• Six-position adjustable height
• Reclining Seat
• Two removable/dishwasher safe trays
• And the piece de resistance: folds flat for easy storage

Besides all the great features, what I love the most is the seat cushion. It's a classic, beautiful pattern that is not covered with pastel bunnies.  And yes, it is as cushy and comfortable as it looks.

My son can only eat in style. It's how he's gonna roll.









And yes, that lovely, faux-brick flooring is still present. Unfortunately, my fat, preggo belly will most likely not allow me to bend over and lay tiles in my third trimester. Then again, knowing me, I'm still going to try.

Yankee Doodle Dandy,
- TYG

The Beginnings of a Nursery

I've only recently started to feel "unjinxy" in terms of buying things for the baby's room. Since I've started researching for gear and furniture, my first impression is how much of a financial racket this whole baby-thing is. It's like my wedding all over again. Everything's at a premium and ridiculously overpriced.

So what NukeBoy and I did was hit Babies R' Us to test drive what we were interested in, then I started registering at Amazon.com for everything at a much cheaper cost. Plus, almost all of it is free shipping!

On top of that, Uncle Buck and I have been relentlessly hitting yard sales, thrift stores, and consignment shops for slightly used items at a significant price reduction.

Well, here's what we've done so far to the room:

Click Pics to Enlarge

The color scheme is navy blue, light blue, light lemon yellow, and white with a nautical flare.  The first thing NukeBoy and I did was get a light colored area rug, then I purchased light shears for the windows so a lot of light can come through.

The next thing was to get the closet filled with storage. The room is rather small, so all of the clothes and most of the toys will need to go in the strangely large closet. I purchased assemble-yourself cubbies and drawers which I think will work perfectly for all the tiny, precious, little baby outfits and socks.

NukeBoy and I assembled his childhood trundle bed, and I purchased a navy blue/light blue reversible bed ensemble. I'm on the lookout for a toy chest to go in front of the bed; something in that wood finish would be perfect. Scouring consignment and antique stores for that.

Uncle Buck and I hit a flea market recently, and I scored big time finding these really cool lobster trap bouys. With a bit of primer and a new paint design to match the color scheme of the room, these bad boys will really enhance the nautical theme.

Another cheap find was this barely-been-used portable crib. This will come in super handy when visiting family and going to soccer games. Not bad for twenty bucks!

Also on the used market, I refinished this tiny little rocking chair ($8). How cute will my son look reading his second-grade-level books at age three. (After all, I only breed geniuses!)

Since the room is so small, dressers are out, but I found this solution at The Christmas Tree Shops. Just perfect to be used as a combo nightstand and mini-dresser.

Complimenting the nightstand is an anchor lamp, daddy's picture from a trip to Block Island in a perfectly colored sea frame, and a tiny clipper ship I can paint to match the room.

Next, I've gotten all kinds of wall hangings and frames with a sea/nautical feel and theme. I purchased bags of shells to add that perfect flare to certain items, and most ambitiously, I purchased a second bed quilt and fabric squares to make my own crib quilt. No way in h-e-double-hockey-sticks am I, or anyone in my family, is going to drop $200 on a crib set. NUTS! Two-packs of crib sheets are $11 at Walmart, I've already purchased a breathable bumper at a consignment shop for $10, and the fabric for the quilt only cost me $25. Now I just need a pattern and ambition.

Lastly, this unassembled pile of junk is a changing table I found for $15. After a new paint job to match the wood in the rest of the room, lining the bottom shelves with matching fabric, and pop in a new changing pad, I've got exactly what I'm looking for, since I can't find anything I truly want in stores or online. Picky and high maintenance? I know. But I want what I want. It's the way I roll.

As you can see, there are no real pastels in the room. There's nothing that has been turning me and NukeBoy off more than all that cutesy baby crap we've been seeing in the stores. Which is kind of odd, since we are having a baby. But don't babies respond to vibrant colors better, anyway?

Besides, doesn't it mean more when I put my heart and soul into making and refurbishing everything with my own hands? Or, maybe it means I'm just a glutton for punishment.

Can't wait to meet you, Baby Boy! I hope you approve of everything I'm doing for your room!

Yankee Doodle Dandy,
-TYG

Bye-bye Belly Button

Well, the button is disappearing and painfully trying to stretch out.  Weeks 22-24 are proving to be rather uncomfortable. Lot's of stretching and pulling, and lots of cramping from the digestive and uterine aspects of pregnancy. Never mind the fact that my once 122-pound frame is now topping out at 150 lbs. I still have three and half months left. I'm going to be a hippo!

Obviously, something really changed the first weekend of August. Acid reflux is ten-fold worse and my poor bladder is officially a pancake under the constant bladder-noogies of my son and in constant cramps. Hopefully it's not a UTI.

Trying to be responsible, proactive, and informed parents-to-be, NukeBoy and I attended a childbirth seminar and checked out the birthing facilities at the hospital. Always good to be prepared for something as profound and prolific as childbirth.

Needless to say reality set in big time for me after that, and I'm officially scared shitless (sorry for the profanity). Anyone who knows me knows my anxiety with needles, especially IVs. I haven't passed out...yet. I just have an anxiety attack and start crying uncontrollably. I had two small attacks at the seminar with the instructor just simply talking about the IVs, the epidurals, the blood draws, the...the...the...oh dear...it's getting black.........

This whole birth-thing is just what I've always feared. Pain, pain, needles, more pain. Oh, I'm so in trouble.

Stoic, strong YankeeGirl...so not happening December 4th. Lord, please give me strength.

Yankee Doodle Dandy,
-TYG

Psychosis of a Preggo's Dreams

I dreamed of my Bailey last night.  However, as with all of my dreams, it was bizarre and a little bit disturbing on a comical level.

I'm at home and I hear him screaming. Apparently, he got the bottom left side of his lip caught in the zipper of my knock-off Vera Bradley cosmetic bag. What he was doing in that bag, I have no idea. It's not very large, plus I use it to hold womanly effects in my purse. I have only recently removed it from my purse and put it into the HBA closet figuring I was now safe to acknowledge I was pregnant and would not be needing a tampon at least for another five months.

Anyway, I run to my Bays and see him crying in pain. I carefully put him in his cat carrier and the frantic running around that I love to do in my dreams commences.

I first run with him and my other two cats, who mysteriously are not in cat carriers, to NukeBoy's home. Which is actually my home now, but instead of a simple colonial, I'm in a huge Victorian that is, incidentally filled with my mother's nine cats. NukeBoy's not home; he's away on business, which in reality, makes sense. He actually is away on business. So the house feels barren and a bit scary.

I'm worried with all these cats running around the house. I keep thinking that my youngest cat, Fletcher, is going to get in a cat-fight with my mom's cats. I'm trying to placate Bailey, control Fletcher, and find an all-night vet to get him fixed up. Of course, this is all happening in the middle of the night in a dimly lit house. In my mind I keep thinking of the best course of action. We'll have to put him under anesthesia in order to get his lip dislodged from the zipper, kinda like Ben Stiller in There's Something About Mary.


At this point I wake up. I'm very upset; mainly sad thinking about my Baymeister. It's about quarter to four: my usual during-the-night pee break anyway, so I get up to go. Climbing back into bed I'm thwarted trying to get back to sleep. Images of poor Bailey with his lip hanging from his mouth from the weight of my menstrual tote and the now persistent kicks from my baby. My mind flashes from Bailey's lip to that guy that got a full face transplant. I guess now I know where my subconscious got the idea.


I must have eventually fallen back to sleep because my dream picked right back up where I left off. This time I'm trying to navigate my way through a narrow path at Slater Park in a huge SUV with Uncle Buck and mysteriously, NukeBoy, to the dog pound, which is somehow a vet clinic, too.

There is some sort of nighttime event going on, maybe the remnants of people leaving a concert. I eventually weave through everyone and get into the pound and the woman veterinarian takes a look at Bailey. She's very peppy with short blonde hair. I'm trying to convince her that we should put Bailey under so he doesn't feel any pain. Uncle Buck and NukeBoy are wandering around the pound. I'm having trouble keeping track of everyone, which is really upsetting me, when all of a sudden, I turn around and watch as the vet pulls Bailey's lip like an elastic band. His lip smacks back to his face and the bag is removed. The vet is very excited about this. I can feel the horror-stricken look on my face.

I wake up. The alarm's going off.

Wow, Freud. Analyze that.


Yankee Doodle Dandy,
– TYG

The Miracle That's Called Life....Ew, That's Gross.

**NOTE TO THE WEAK AT HEART: I'm pretty graphic about my experiences regarding my pregnancy. I also like to include gross events with pictures. Consider yourself warned!**

===============

It was April Fool's Day the day I found out I was pregnant.

"This better not be a joke," I said to the stick in the bathroom. I was late, but that's no surprise. I'm late, I'm early, I'm late, I'm early. The reason we hadn't gotten pregnant sooner was we kept missing our mark.

Apparently, on St. Patrick's Day, we hit that mark with precision. I guess the green milk I served with the corned beef and cabbage worked.

The first eight weeks were fraught with fear. I hadn't stopped spotting the entire time. I would wake up in the middle of the night with that horrible twinging. The same twinging that signaled the end of my first pregnancy. That same twinging that made my world crash to an end last summer. Twice I had to go to the hospital for internal ultrasounds to verify the validity of the pregnancy.

"Oh, dear God, please still be there. Please still be there. Please see the heart beating..."

Then sure enough, "See that little white flicker? That's the heart. It's going 120 beats per minute. Just perfect."

At five weeks four days, my Peanut was strong.



At six weeks four days, Peanut was even stronger at 140 beats per minute. My doctor discovered the reason for all my spotting: super sensitive cervix. Yes, that's the clinical term. Actually, it's not, but as per usual in the medical community, it had ten or twelve syllables, and she said it so fast I just couldn't catch it. My mind was in a whirlwind with the fact that the baby was fine so far. A little iron-based topical medicine, and the spotting would be cured.



A sense of relief swept over me the next few days as going to the bathroom was no longer laced with panic. And since I have to urinate approximately every twenty minutes, that was turning into a lot of panic. That is until about five days later. I'm walking to work and the "medicine" decided to come out. Of course, at the time, I did not know it was the medicine.



Ok, I don't ask for much. Actually, that's a lie. I ask for the world, and I expect it efficiently and beautifully represented on a Limoges platter. But that's beside the point. You would think that my doctor would have said, "Oh, by the way, you may have a blob of skin-like discharge come out once the medicine congeals and peels away." But, no, I had to sit in my office for two hours until my doctor's office called me back to put me at ease. That's two hours of panic-stricken horror staring at a foreign object that I swore was my uterus coming out. No, I wasn't just losing the baby. My whole internal reason for being woman was systematically breaking down and dislodging itself while my boss wanted his budgets.

"Screw your budgets! Can't you see leprosy's set in!!!"

With that incident behind me, it's been pretty quiet the last four weeks. Nothing overly alarming going on. I've accepted the fact that 10% of woman experience first trimester spotting and bleeding. And, of course, with my nut-case of a cervix, I'm going to see some things every once and a while. The key is to stay calm.

I've graduated to external ultrasounds now that Peanut is a whole two inches long. However, even the pressing down from the wand caused some trauma to my cervix which sent me into a tizzy last Saturday morning. But key note here: I have no cramping. Bleeding + cramping = problems. No cramping, no problems. That's my new mantra.

Besides, after seeing these images in action last week, how could I not be in complete awe and utter amazement of my Peanut, my child, my blessing growing and bouncing around inside me.



Despite all my stress, panic, and neuroses, this tiny little miracle is toughing it out.



Their heartbeat is strong at 169 beats per minute. They squirm and bounce all over every few seconds. Olympic swimmer on our hands? Maybe.



Then Peanut finally turned and put their tiny little hand to their mouth, staying put for all but three seconds. But it was long enough to get this shot. One of the most precious and beautiful images I have ever seen.

May God shine his blessings down on all of you. And my God shine his blessings on Peanut and bring him/her safely into this world and into his mother's very eager arms.

And Cervix: Please behave the next six months. I've heard enough backtalk from you to last a lifetime. (Do I sound like a mother yet?)

Yankee Doodle Dandy,
- TYG