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Jun 2, 2007

More Thoughts On The Past Week

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I have no idea what day it is right now. I think someone told me it’s now June. Wow, that came faster than I thought.

We’re still in survival mode here, trying to get used to life with two children. Yesterday, Aaron took Cordy out for a few hours, leaving me only Mira to care for. I ate lunch, decluttered the living room a little bit, and fed Mira. As I sat there nursing her, I laughed to myself, thinking: I used to think this was hard? Taking care of one is a breeze!

Cordy is handling the new addition with the grace we expected – which is none at all. She’s doing her best to ignore the baby, and acting out in new and exciting ways, mostly directing her anger towards Aaron and I. She’s hitting, she’s screaming, she’s doing things she already knows aren’t allowed, and she’s physically hurting herself. Today, during a time out, she repeatedly bashed her head on a wall until she slightly bloodied her nose. Fun times, people. It makes my heart ache to see her hurting so much.

So far the post-partum hormone dump is only affecting me minimally, but I’m still waiting for the fallout. I had one sobbing fit on Monday night in the hospital, when Cordy came to visit for the first time. Aaron brought her in and said, “Look, there’s mommy!” She walked right up to me, looked at me, and then replied, “That’s not mommy!” Ouch. She eventually warmed up to me, but then when it was time for her to leave, I had to endure seeing her realize that I wasn’t coming with her, and see all hell break loose. Strapped in her stroller, with large tears streaming down her face, she cried out “No! Mommy! Mommy!” and tried to reach for me as Aaron took her out of the room. I could hear her screams all the way until they reached the elevators.

Physically, I’m still down and out. It isn’t as bad as a c-section recovery, but I wasn’t quite prepared for this. My nether-regions are unrecognizable, with the swelling, the stitches from the giant tear, and the hemorrhoids. Pooping is an ordeal that requires mental preparation. And I’ve already warned Aaron that sex is unlikely for a long, long time. Are there any good remedies for healing my girl parts? While I love the Dermoplast numbing spray the hospital gave me, it only masks the pain, and the Tucks pads aren’t that helpful. Things will go back to normal down there, right?

Mira is so far very different from Cordy. From the beginning, Cordy seemed to be angry at the world for being pulled out of her warm home in my uterus. She wanted nothing to do with nursing, and spent a lot of time crying. Mira took to breastfeeding like a pro from the very beginning, and so far (knock on wood, or well, wood laminate for me) she’s generally not too fussy. We had some issues the first two nights at home, when she would only sleep up against me in bed, but last night she slept in a sleep positioner and managed a 4 hour stretch. She also went out with us for the first time today, and slept for most of the trip. I keep hoping that she will be different from Cordy entirely, and we might just skip that whole colic phase.


Having Aaron home for two weeks full time, and then four weeks part time makes me want to send flowers to the State of Ohio as thanks for their parental leave policy. With Cordy, Aaron only had a couple of days off, but now he’s here for two full weeks to help make that adjustment. I honestly don’t know how I would manage without him right now.

So, we’re doing our best to find normal in our lives again. At the moment everything feels so overwhelming, but I know that eventually we’ll fall into a routine and I won’t feel so out of control. Until then, I have to struggle to find ways to make room for two needy little girls on my lap.

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


Apr 3, 2007

Where’d She Go?

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Forgive me, readers, for I have sinned. It’s been a week since my last confession post.

What have I been up to? Well, last week was a busy week for me work-wise, and ended with Aaron leaving on Thursday morning for a trip to a stage combat workshop in Virginia Beach. He didn’t get back until very late last night. Four days, one hyperactive toddler, and one eight-months-pregnant mom who was parenting solo.

You can understand why blogging was not high on my priority list. Most nights I was too exhausted to even fix myself dinner. Single parents – you deserve a medal. While Cordy was thankfully well-behaved most of the weekend, the experience left me begging for Aaron to come home as soon as possible. I learned I’m officially not cut out for parenting solo.

Friday I also went to look at the one daycare in town that supposedly had an opening right away. Turns out, they didn’t – they had one day a week available, not two. But after looking at the place, I decided it wasn’t for us, anyway. They wanted to charge $485 a month for two days a week, and they didn’t even provide meals. You had to pack your own breakfasts and lunches. Plus, if the weather is bad, there is no indoor playroom, and the kids are confined to their classrooms. I also asked about naptime, and they told me if a child doesn’t nap, she has to sit on her cot quietly during nap time. I tried not to laugh at them, but I couldn’t hold back. You want my daughter to sit quietly for an hour and a half? Yeah, right.

Today was my regular OB appointment. Even though I’ve eaten my weight in doughnuts this week, I somehow lost two pounds. So I’m back to my starting weight. I had plenty of reserves to begin with, so my doctor isn’t concerned at all.

However, there was one downside to the appointment today. Somehow, in the past week, this baby has managed to do the one and only thing I didn’t want her to do:

She’s now breech.

Yes, Cordy was breech, which is why I had my c-section. The chances of two breech babies? Well, had I bet on another breech, I’d be rich.

Why must I be cursed with stubborn daughters? This one wasn’t breech last week, because I could feel the kicks up high. But today the hard lump of a head is now up high, while small feet are Irish dancing on my cervix.

I’m 33 weeks today, so there is still time and room for her to turn back. And unlike last time, I refuse to sit by and just hope she’ll turn. I’m breaking out every trick in the book. I will prop my butt up on the couch with my head on the floor twice a day. I will put frozen peas on the top of my stomach and a heating pad on the lower area to convince her my cervix is a better place for her head. If needed, I have found an acupuncture office who performs moxibustion, and I’m looking into chiropractors who are skilled in the Webster technique. I’m determined to get this kid head down, even if it means chanting some silly phrase while wearing a hula skirt and moose antlers.

So, forgive me for my absence here. It was a much needed leave of absence so that I could focus on all the things stressing me out. As penance, I’ll let you in on a secret: click here to go see the current top two baby names we have sort-of agreed on thus far. And next up I’ll be answering a series of interview questions given to me by Mrs. Chicky.

Filed Under: daily life, pregnancy · Tagged:


Mar 7, 2007

Look Out, We Have A Climber

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While at work yesterday, I received a call from my friend, L, who watches Cordy on Tuesdays. “We have a bit of a situation,” she told me.

My mind immediately jumped to all of the bad things that could have happened. Did she hit her head? Did she hit or bite L’s son? Is everyone OK?

“We all went down for our naps, and I put her in the pack n play like normal. I was in B’s room with him, and felt like I was being watched. I turned around to look, and Cordy was standing in the doorway. I don’t know how she did it, but she climbed out of the pack n play! I didn’t hear a thing!”

It’s official: we have a climber. What’s worse, she’s not just a climber, she’s a stealthy climber.

Cordy was never interested in climbing before this. She’s always been unsteady on her short legs, and frightened of heights, so climbing was never a priority. But over the past month or so, we’ve noticed a new trend in attempting to scale furniture. Last week, she managed to pull herself up onto our tall bed for the first time.

So at 3am, when I was startled awake by frantic screaming, I jumped out of bed and rushed to her room, convinced she had tried to climb out of her crib and had an accident. After all, if she can get over the pack n play hurdle, the crib should be no problem at all for her. Thankfully, she was still in the crib, but her foot was once again jammed between slats and wedged against the wall. “I’m stuck, I’m stuck!” she cried.

I freed her foot, which was greeted with a loud, “You did it!” from Cordy. (Who says parents don’t need praise and affirmation, too?) But then she practically threw herself over the crib rail into my arms, clearly not ready to go back to bed. Remember: it’s 3am, I’m pregnant and groggy, and just had 35 pounds of off-center weight added to me. This can’t go well.

Stepping away from her crib, I lost my balance. I tried to make it the two steps over to the glider, but put my right foot through her bead puzzle (seen here when she was younger), which caused me to pitch forward even more from pain and no solid footing. At that point, it was impossible not to fall, so I focused on trying not to land on my belly or drop Cordy. We landed on the glider footstool, with Cordy’s head only barely tapping the dresser behind the footstool. My upper torso took most of the fall, although I also have a deep scrape down my right leg from the bead puzzle.

Still trying to keep a hold on Cordy, I pulled my leg free from the bead puzzle. While I expected Cordy to be upset by the fall, she wasn’t – she just didn’t want back in her crib. We went downstairs for a few moments, where she tried to talk me into turning on the TV. I gave my most convincing lie: “I’m sorry, sweetie, it’s still night-time, and the TV doesn’t work at night.” We’ll see how much longer I can keep up that lie. I’m hoping at least until she’s 10.

She eventually calmed down from all the excitement, and we went back upstairs. She cried when I put her in her crib and left the room, which meant I couldn’t go back to sleep until I was certain she wasn’t going to try throwing herself over the crib rail again. Finally, a little after 4am, she calmed down, had a lively discussion with her stuffed animals, and then all was quiet. I laid awake in bed a little longer, waiting to feel a few kicks from the baby to make sure the fall didn’t hurt her. I was asleep by 4:30.

Now that we’re facing a climbing toddler, it’s time to push harder for her to sleep in her toddler bed. She fell asleep in her bed for her nap on Sunday, but she’s been unwilling to try at night-time. I tried it last night, but she was too scared to stay in the bed. I don’t want to spend every night worrying that she will break a bone or give herself a concussion falling out of her crib.

Filed Under: Cordy, daily life, growing up ·


Feb 19, 2007

Weekend in Review

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I believe I once said I loved snow, and that if it was going to be cold, I’d rather it be cold with snow. Well, I’ve changed my mind, or at least modified my opinion to exclude years when I’m pregnant.

Going anywhere this weekend was trying at best, thanks to all of the snow and ice. We received another 2-3″ of snow on Saturday, which provided some traction, but mostly served to obscure the ice underneath. By this point, many places of business had given up on trying to clear their parking lots and sidewalks, and simply hoped their customers wouldn’t fall and break a bone. I had no choice but to be out in it, as I had to work on Saturday, and had class on Sunday.

I’ve also changed my opinion on the advantages of being pregnant in the winter. When we discussed trying for baby #2, part of our timing involved the decision that it might be better for me to be pregnant during colder months, avoiding the heat of the summer like last time. (Cordy was born in September.) Having been through only one month of trying to keep my off-balanced self upright on the snow and ice, I’m starting to think my judgement was wrong. Sweating and swelling from the heat seem pretty insignificant right now. Then again, it’s always greener on the other side of the fence, right?

Aaron spent most of the weekend at a stage combat workshop he and a friend were hosting for local actors. With both of our schedules being busy, babysitting was needed for Cordy, which proved to be difficult. It seems everyone had something to do. Luckily, one of my aunts stepped in to watch Cordy for a little while both days.

On Saturday, we learned an important lesson: Cordy may like Mexican food, but it doesn’t like her. My aunt had taken her to a local Mexican restaurant, and she said Cordy loved munching on tortilla chips and ate most of a cheese quesadilla. When I came home from work, Cordy was already napping. But the nap didn’t last long before I heard her making whimpering noises. I went in to get her and, as is often the case with a baby poop story, the smell hit me first. I then noticed her pants were wet, and the sheet was stained. (Warning: the next paragraph is the graphic one. Sensitive stomachs may choose to skip it.)

Holding her out at arms length, I took her downstairs to clean her up. At first, I thought it was only a small diaper blowout. But as I laid her down on the changing pad, I heard a loud squish. This was not going to go well. Turns out, her thick sweatshirt was hiding the true nature of this pooptastrophe. This wasn’t a small blowout – we’re talking Category 5 blowout here. She had poop nearly up to her neck in the back, up her belly in the front, and oozing down her legs to her socks. While I was disgusted, it was hard not to be impressed, too: how did that much poop come out of someone so small?. Surely she lost a pound or two from that experience.

I did what damage control I could with wipes, then moved her to the bathtub. After a full scrub-down, I changed the bath water and let her play while throwing her clothing, the crib sheet, the one toy that didn’t survive the blast, and even the plastic changing pad into the washer. All is now sanitized again.

Or at least it was until this morning. After the Mexican incident, Cordy wasn’t interested in eating much. So she went on a self-imposed, mostly liquid diet, wanting only juice, milk, and the occasional PB&J sandwich. As you can guess, that caught up to her today. Thankfully, I wasn’t on duty for this pooptastrophe. Since it’s President’s Day, Aaron has the day off work, which means he gets to experience what I go through two days a week relax at home with Cordy.

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Filed Under: daily life ·