Christina, Author at A Mommy Story

Jun 5, 2009

Haiku Friday: DONE!

A great day has come
My final exam is done, now
I can graduate

This journey started
here three years ago and now
you’ll see it end, too.

I should be telling you that next week I’ll be walking across the stage in an elaborate graduation ceremony, but the truth is, I’m counting today as my graduation. I did the graduation walk when I received my BA in History, so I really don’t feel the need to sit through another one of those again. There is a pinning ceremony next week that I will attend, and I’ll try to have someone remember a camera.

It was here on this little blog that I decided to switch careers and try nursing, back in 2006. Cordy was 15 months old, Mira wasn’t even a thought yet. I wasn’t sure at the time if I would actually follow-thru with my bright new idea – after all, I’ve got credits for two Master’s degrees sitting around that I only half finished.

There were several days I considered quitting. The work was overwhelming at times. After pre-requisites, I started my actual nursing classes with a three month old baby at home. More than once I had to remind myself that not only was this an interest of mine, but that I was doing this for my family, too. I had to finish this because they needed me to finish.

I really disliked several of my clinical locations, and realized quickly that I was never going to be a happy nurse in med-surg. My two favorite clinicals were our mother/infant clinical and the rotation through pediatrics at Children’s Hospital.

But with the support of my family (especially Aaron, who had to deal with me stressed out ~~every single day~~ sometimes) and friends who provided both online and in-person cheering sections, I made it. The last exam was completed at 2:10pm today. I have my grade for the class. I will be graduating with honors (Cum Laude). And after I take our state license exam at the end of the month, I’ll officially be a Registered Nurse.

(WOO-HOO!)

What will I do with all my free time now? (Message from my practical side: look for a job!)

To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What’s a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your main blog URL). DON’T sign unless you have a haiku this week. If you need help with this, please let me know.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button at the top.

REMEMBER: Do not post your link unless you have a haiku this week! I will delete any links without haiku!

Filed Under: me me me, school ·

Jun 2, 2009

In the Dark

By Christina ·

Last night, as I was coming home from a night out with friends, I was treated to an amazing light show in the sky. Great, I thought, storms. Those who know me in person know how anxious I get in thunderstorms. I’ve never been able to relax and enjoy the power of nature. No, I’m too focused on the massive destruction, tornadoes, fires, and electrocution that nature can cause to enjoy some pretty lights in the sky.

I made it home right before the rain started. Settling down in my chair with my computer, I distracted myself with a quick e-mail check and some Twitter, hoping the storm would pass quickly.

And then the lights dimmed, came back, dimmed again, and then went out. No big crack of thunder accompanied it, so we didn’t know why the power decided to take time off.

Aaron found the flashlights while I looked outside and confirmed that everyone was in the dark. After our initial WTF? we lit some candles and relaxed. The rain was steady, the lightening was already calming down – so where was our electricity?

We waited. And waited. And waited. I called my mom and she asked “Did you call the electric company yet?”

“Um, no, but considering most of our side of town is dark, I’m guessing they already know.”

My only worry at this point was Cordy. If she woke up during this power outage, she would freak out. Cordy is afraid of the dark, and usually sleeps with her light on all night. A night light doesn’t cut it, and if I turn off her overhead light after she’s asleep, she’ll get up and turn it back on later in the night, along with her lamp. (And keep the nightlight on too, of course.) Thank goodness for CFL bulbs or environmentalists would have her on their 10 Most Wanted list.

Eventually we gave up and went to bed. Well, I went to bed, Aaron slept on the couch so he could turn everything off when the power came back on.

Sure enough, at 11:45pm, just as I was drifting off to sleep, I was startled awake by a scream from Cordy’s room. “I can’t get the lights on! I can’t see! I can’t see!” I fell out of bed in my frantic scurry to get to her room, trying to open and turn on my Nintendo DSi to provide light for her. When I opened her door, she was completely disoriented and terrified, shaking and reaching out for the light source while babbling about lights not working and make them work again and it’s dark and scary!

Aaron made it to the top of the stairs about the same time that I opened her door, and we guided her into our bedroom. I told her she could sleep in our bed tonight, and Aaron brought in her Sammy. (Somehow the giant Miffy that she named Sammy has become her nighttime protector and must be present so she can sleep.) With a child and giant stuffed rabbit in the bed, Aaron knew there was no room for him and went back to the couch.

At that point, all I wanted was to go back to sleep. I tried to close the DSi, but Cordy was again scared, even though I was right there with her. So I left it on, placing it on the bedside table. Then I remembered that I hadn’t charged it lately. Hmmm…once that light ran out, she’d be a mess again. I got out of bed to gather more light-producing equipment, and came up with a Nintendo DS and a book light. Well, it was better than nothing.

Thankfully, the lights came on 10 minutes after that. But Cordy refused to go back to her room. “What if the lights stop working again?” she asked over and over. I assured her that I would come and get her if they went off again, but she wouldn’t budge. As long as there was the statistical probability of the lights not working again, she was not moving.

Cordy hasn’t slept in our bed in a long, long time, and she’s not the best bed-mate. She talks half the night, kicks, fidgets, tosses and turns, and does her best to make sure no one else is sleeping. And is then up at 6am on her knees with open arms proclaiming, “Good morning, sun!” to the light coming in the window.

So if any locals happen to see me today, please buy me a coffee. And hope that she returns to her bed tonight.

Filed Under: being a mom, Cordy, daily life ·

Jun 1, 2009

Birthday Weekend

By Christina ·

I’ve learned that I love birthday parties, but I hate getting ready for them. Each year I swear we’re going to do the next kid birthday party at a location other than our house, and then each year something comes up to make the costs too prohibitive, or we run out of time to book the location, or I worry that an outdoor location will pretty much guarantee rain and tornadoes that day.

The one upside of hosting the party at our house is it forces us to do a thorough cleaning of the house twice a year. (Three times if you count Christmas.) We spent part of last week and all morning Saturday clearing out piles of paper, choosing which of Cordy’s art projects to keep and which to toss, performing the semi-annual culling of the toy herd, and wiping down/dusting/scrubbing every surface in sight.

And then? The weather was so nice we forced everyone to come to the back gate so no one saw inside the house. Good thing we cleaned, eh?

Mira had a lovely birthday party. I love this age – she doesn’t care what the theme is, and we don’t have to have elaborate crafts or games or anything like that. In fact, the best part of her party, as far as she was concerned? Was this:

Who needs fancy decorations, performers, or lots of gifts? Give a two year old a bunch of balloons and you’ve got a happy kid. She dragged those balloons around for most of the day. Thank goodness they were tied to a sandbag, or she would have quickly become a very unhappy two year old.

She also received several nice gifts, including some beautiful clothes that she looked at, shouted “No!” and then promptly threw on the ground. Not sure if she was expecting toys or had issues with the style. (Personally, I liked the clothing. Our friends and family have good taste.)

Cordy did pretty well with the small crowd of people invading her personal space. She got a little wild at times, and ate way too much cake and ice cream, resulting in a severe tummy ache and GI distress the remainder of the evening. Poor thing – she kept asking me, “can you turn my tummy off, mommy?”

I think the party went well, even if it was small and disorganized. And I hope I’ve once again learned not to hold birthday parties at our house. Maybe I’ll remember that for Cordy’s party in September.

(And I wish I had more birthday pictures, but I was so busy keeping things running I didn’t take any. Now I’m at the mercy of my relatives sharing their photos with me.)

Filed Under: Cordy, holidays, love, Mira ·

May 29, 2009

Haiku Friday: Comparisons

By Christina ·

I know it’s bad to
compare your children but I
can’t help it at times

Mira often wears
Cordy’s hand-me-downs and I
like the differences

This week’s outfit? A
dress Cordy wore years ago
Now it’s Mira sized:

(click for a larger pic)

I know it’s an obsession, and every special outfit that once belonged to Cordy is likely to be photographed on Mira, but I can’t help myself. I love seeing how my two daughters are so different, and yet so similar in many ways. Cordy looks more like me, Mira more like Aaron. Cordy was built solid at 21 months, with toddler tree trunk legs and large through her torso. (Amazon warrior princess, remember?) Mira is more slender while still having the toddler belly. She has far less hair than Cordy had at that age.

Yet the two of them squint their eyes the same, they have dimples in the same places. Mira’s hair is starting to show the same curls as Cordy’s. Both are taller than the average for their ages, and both are now Amazon warrior princesses.

Putting them side by side like this really amazes me, both to remember how Cordy once was, and to see how fast Mira is following her sister in growing up. It’s all too fast. I want them to stay little forever.

To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What’s a haiku, you ask? Click here.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button at the top.

REMEMBER: Do not post your link unless you have a haiku this week! I will delete any links without haiku!

Filed Under: Amazons, being a mom, Cordy, growing up, Mira ·

May 27, 2009

The Story of Miranda, Part 2

By Christina ·

Part one can be found here.

May 27, 5-ish AM
When the nurse told me I wasn’t yet three centimeters, I nearly fell off the bed. How? My contractions had been three minutes apart since at least 1am, and were now so intense I couldn’t talk through them. Even the thought of being told to go home depressed me. Aaron tried to boost my spirits, and the triage nurse encouraged me to walk and move around to help speed things up while she looked into getting me a room.

Around 7am, I was checked again. This time I was three exactly and so I was admitted. OSU Medical Center required continuous fetal monitoring, no matter how much I protested. The plan was to keep me up and moving as much as possible, and I asked for a telemetry monitor so that I could carry out that plan. What I didn’t expect was for technology to malfunction 15 minutes after getting the telemetry unit, forcing me into bed with wires keeping me tethered to the spot. I worried that this would interfere with labor – one more intervention on the checklist towards a possible c-section.

By this point I was begging my doula to call my nurse. The hospital had assigned me a nurse, but over a month before this my doula had been in touch with an OSU labor & delivery nurse who was very VBAC friendly. She agreed to be my nurse when the time came, and said she would even come in on her day off if need be. The assigned nurse seemed pleasant enough, but she was not happy with my wishes to follow the birth plan sitting on the front of my chart. She also blew her first IV attempt, wasting my best vein. My doula called Kim, and she was there by 8:30am. While I knew it was Kim’s day off, I wouldn’t find out until later that it was also Kim’s birthday.

At 9am, I was reaching my pain limit. My contractions were already nearly on top of each other, less than three minutes apart and lasting over two minutes. I again foolishly hoped that this meant the end was near, and if not, visions of epidurals danced in my head. Kim checked me, and announced I wasn’t quite at five centimeters yet. At that point, I declared in a loud, serious voice, “Get me the epidural then.” I had advised my team to not let me consider an epidural lightly, but not even Aaron argued with me at that point. Of course, it could be because he wanted to regain some feeling in his hand again.

I originally didn’t want an epidural, because I knew it would keep me bed-bound, but seeing that I was already stuck in the bed, it seemed like the best option. I knew I was risking yet another intervention down the slippery slope to c-section, but I also knew that in some slow labors an epidural can help speed things up. The happiest moment of the day thus far was when the anesthesiologist came into the room at 9:45am.

The next several hours are a complete blur for me, but there were two ongoing incidents that bear mentioning. First was the baby’s complete and utter lack of respect for contractions. Normally, the uterus contracts, the baby’s heart rate responds by increasing, indicating that the baby is a little stressed out by the squeezing. Totally normal response, everyone is happy. This kid, however, never showed any changes in heart rate. She was cool as a cucumber the entire time, prompting hospital staff to freak out regularly.

She also liked to stretch and shift away from the fetal monitor, making it impossible to detect her heart rate and sending Kim into my room several times to readjust the monitor and forcing me to wear an oxygen mask to help the baby. Trust me – she didn’t need any help. She was simply relaxed through all of this. She could be the zen master of zen masters.

At least three times I remember them bringing a loud buzzing device in and holding it against my belly. The purpose is to scare the hell out of the baby to see if there is a change in heart rate. Change in heart rate=good. Each time they did that, I felt her jump out of her skin, and her heart rate increased, but then she calmed down and went back to sleep. Labor did not bother her at all.

The other recurring event throughout the long morning and early afternoon was the frequent visits from the anesthesiologist at my request. I’ve always had an ability to metabolize drugs quickly, and apparently epidurals are no different. The epidural completely wore off three times. Even with my little button to push if I needed more medication, it still wore off three times. Nothing like being totally pain free and then suddenly having it all come rushing back at you. Aaron had to remind me about my breathing and help me through until it could be adjusted. It was only re-up’d two times, though, because the third time I was already close to pushing. I’ve seen very little surprise from an anesthesiologist, but he was surprised.

Around 2pm, the resident came in and offered to break the amniotic sac. I never got to experience the water breaking or anything like that. Nooo…apparently it was the amniotic sac of steel. I refused, and then had to deal with a pouty young resident demanding to know why. I reminded him that the baby was still at a high station and I was only eight centimeters. I didn’t want to risk a cord prolapse and a fast lane rush to surgery. I was happy to let it happen on its own. He skulked out of the room, not coming back in again until he was summoned.

Around 3pm, Kim declared that I was at 10 centimeters. I already kinda knew that, though, because the epidural had worn off, and the pain had shifted to a whole new sensation: the urge to push. The resident came back in, asking if he could now break the sac, and I let him, seeing that the baby’s head was completely engaged and ready to go. The resident asked me for a trial push to judge how well I’d be able to push. My one trial push produced a look of panic on his face as he left to call the doctor, with strict instructions to Kim to not let me push. 10 minutes later, he was back, telling us that the doctor was stuck in traffic and was still 20 minutes away. Oh, and don’t push.

Honestly, looking back, I should have flipped him off. I was not consciously pushing at this point, but my body was trying to push. It was taking all of my energy to try to hold it back. I was asking Kim how many babies she had caught due to late doctors, and asking if she was ready to catch this one. Kim was rushing around, getting everything set up and ready, while I gritted my teeth and tried to will myself not to push.

Finally, the doctor walked in around 3:45pm and quickly suited up. It wasn’t my regular doctor, but one of her partners. She looked at me and said, “Dr. K sent me an e-mail telling me you might go into labor this weekend and attached a copy of your birth plan. She was hoping you’d be able to have the VBAC – she’ll be so excited when I tell her that you did it.”

Second happiest moment of the day came when Dr. H told me to go ahead and push. I remember everyone around me – Aaron, my doula, Kim, the doctor – telling me to push, placing their hands on me, etc., but I can’t remember any specifics because I was too focused on getting her out. It took two pushes and she was out at 4:00pm sharp. That first push was horrendous, though. Her not-so-little head crowned just as the contraction ended, leaving everything in a rather painful stretched out manner, waiting for the next contraction. I gave it everything I had for the second push, which is probably what caused the second-degree tear.

They placed Mira on my stomach right away and covered her with some blankets. That was the third happiest moment of the day, and the one to trump all others. She gave a gurgle and a short cry to let us know she was breathing, and then went quiet as my arms wrapped around her. Her eyes squinted in the light to study my face as her tiny hands reached towards my chest and grabbed handfuls of my gown.

We waited until her cord stopped pulsing, and then Aaron got to cut the cord, something he wasn’t able to do with Cordy. Mira cried a little at being unwrapped for a moment. The only other time she cried in the delivery room was when they took her to the warmer to weigh her and clean her up. As soon as she was brought back to me, she quieted again and immediately began breastfeeding. Aaron remarked on how long her fingers and toes were, and he was right – she had monkey toes.

So quiet, so peaceful. She was content with this moment in her life. It was such a stark contrast to Cordy’s birth, where she was pulled unwillingly from me by c-section, shrieking at her change in situation, pissed off at the world from day one. Mira got to do it all her way, waiting until she was ready to be born. And while labor was certainly not one of my favorite moments in life, pushing her out felt so much more “real” than the hidden delivery behind the drape in a c-section.

Mira and I both had slight fevers post-delivery, and as a result the rest of my birth plan got thrown out the window. She was taken to the nursery for bloodwork and to have an IV placed for antibiotics while I waited for hours and asked when I could have my baby back. Her fever never reappeared after that first hour, but the hospital still insisted on the IV and antibiotics for her entire stay. Yet Mira didn’t complain much, and was overall a quiet baby those first few days.

She didn’t get her name until very late at night on the 27th. Aaron and I debated if Miranda was the best fit for her, but none of the other names we had fit well, either. I still wonder if there was a better name for her, but as long as I could keep the nickname Mira, I was content with Miranda Ann.

—
And now, today, my baby is two years old. Where did the time go? Also, where did that quiet, peaceful newborn go?