ONE Year Ago

Who is that TINY little fella?!

Why, that is Samuel Montgomery, just a few days old!!

Who is that beautiful one-year-old child (with food and dried boogers on his face?) It’s Samuel Montgomery.

What an adventure we had, that seems like so long ago in some ways.

I remember so clearly, sitting in that hospital bed, typing on this blog each day, just to make the whole situation a bit more manageable. (oh to have the time to sit and type all day…)

I remember rolling into the operating room, and hugging Nurse Tara as hard as I could while they took forever to put that stupid spinal in…

I vividly recall the NICU- the smell and the sounds and the feeling of seeing Sam for the first time.

I remember Nurse Laura packing us all up in the car to go home and my heart felt like it was going to explode with excitement, just to be driving toward home with the four of us in the car. (oh to be that excited about car trips again…)

Last weekend we visited Athens with the sole purpose of strolling down memory lane a bit with our children on the one year anniversary of Sam’s birth.

We drove by the guest houses, where we stayed once I had been released and I audibly reminisced about waiting outside of the little apartment in the middle of the night- every three hours- for the security guard to pick me up and drive me over to Mother-Baby so I could nurse Sam.

I got to hug Sylvia, one of the techs who I looked forward to seeing every night in my room. She recognized me immediately, and held Sam in her arms and cooed over Harper.

Kimberly was my first nurse after the C-section in my new room, who brought me meds the whole night through. She was there to hear our story and see our children, and she kept thanking us for stopping by.

We even left a note for sweet Ms. Brenda, who sat at the desk out in the lobby and always let Harper push the buttons to open the doors into Mother-Baby.

What fun.

So, here’s to a year of growth and wonder.

Here’s to a year of lost sleep and nursing struggles and nursing victories and sleeping victories; to going from being supported in the bath tub to splashing around in a tub full of toys and a big sister; to scooching, and worming, and crawling to get around; to eating everything under the sun and still being hungry; to first words: “Ha-puh”, and “Yight” and “Ousaaaad,” and “Dada” and “Mama.”

We are so thankful for this little guy.

PS- I know I haven’t kept up this blog like I had hoped, but I HAVE recently started a food/life blog, which I would love for you to check out. I just posted about little man’s mustache bash birthday party, so please add ThousandStoryKitchen.com to your reader!

This is Written::

To the one who made the ambulance ride less awkward while exchanging stories about fishing in Alaska, Montana, and paddling the Chattooga, who asked if I was doing alright.

To the one who had just returned to work from her new baby, yet took care of me that day and again on the last day, who let me squeeze her hand to death during that awful spinal.

To those who took care of me during the night- that busy night in Labor and Delivery- and then smiled so sweetly when I saw them again later down the road.

To the one who answered every question with such care and time, who checked on me every time she worked, even though I wasn’t her patient anymore.

To the one who called from the other hospital just to check and see how things were going with me since I left there.

To the one who called me “Sweet” and refilled my water bottle over 6 million times, and laughed with me.

To the ones who stopped by daily, smiling, to check on me.

To the ones who changed the sheets and bedpans and wrapped up my IV arm.

To the ones who learned exactly what I liked to eat and drink at every meal.

To the one who always sat by the bed and talked for a long time, who told me about her family trip through my home town and how she thought of me.

To the one who worked out my daily wheelchair reprieve.

To the one whom I taught to knit.

To the one who taught me to crochet and who shared the best apple salad I ever ate.

To the ones who calmed and cared for me during my scares and didn’t let me panic.

To the ones who were there when I broke down and cried.

To the one who took care of me on Valentine’s evening and told me stories which cracked me up.

To all the ones who loved Harper and made her a super star during this difficult time for our family, and gave her gifts.

To the one who made my beautiful countdown calendar, painted our toenails blue, and saw us through to the very end as a dear friend.

To the ones who were there all through my most sleepless nights.

To those who taught us so much about our tiny baby boy and nurtured us parents as much as they did our child; the ones who told me to get some sleep (because it wasn’t that easy to tell myself).

:: Thank you. I know that you were just doing your job. You do it well. You have all made me a huge fan of what you do, and

I won’t forget any of you.

Home…

Aaah. We made it home.

Sam’s Saturday release worked out as we had hoped. Sam’s nurse, Laura, helped us get him out to the car after waiting in the lobby where Harper met her brother for the first time without windows in between them. I melted.

To tell you the truth, we are completely exhausted. Coming home to our little house, so clean because Brian’s mom is amazing and cleaned it for us, decorated with balloons on the front steps from a friend at school, was a happiness that’s hard to explain. It was just our little family when we got there. Sam’s room had been completed and somehow all these tiny outfits magically appeared in drawers. These kids have four truly dedicated grandparents.

Because the little guy was looking kind of yellow when we got home, we thought we would bundle him up and take him out into the sunshine for a bit. That was probably a mistake. We ended up having a miserable night.

Sam, with his little, skinny self, doesn’t have much to keep him warm. After a long car ride, where we should  have cranked up the heat ’til we were all sweating, then being outside, his temp dropped dangerously low. Luckily, they had sent us home with instructions to check his temperature every so often. I kept questioning my ability to take his temperature. I didn’t want to believe the thermometer…that’s how low it got.

He began to be hard to wake up and wasn’t eating like he had been. I called my friend, Cary, who is a nurse, just for advice. Thankfully, she twisted my arm into calling the NICU to see what to do. That was a pretty scary and low part of our evening. I thought if we had to call someone to come over in the middle of the night to stay with Harper and load him up and take him to an ER, I would lose my mind, and it was looking that way for a little while.

After several calls back and forth from the Stephens County Hospital on-call pediatrician and Nicole in the NICU at Athens Regional, and with the help of a handmade muscle warmer filled with rice and made by a friend, Carey Ann,  we were able to get his temp back up on our own. We stripped him down and laid skin to skin with lots of blankets on top. We cranked up the heat and built a fire. We took turns warming him with our bodies until his temp finally came up.

…then it was time for Sam to be awake! He ate and got the hiccups and looked around. He was back, and we were totally, completely drained.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Now it’s Tuesday. Sorry about these posts that I start one day and post several days later. I’ve decided that life is a bit different now from a little more than a week ago, when I had nothing but time on my hands and a computer in front of me.  I even missed the Oscars last weekend and our Hulu queue is overflowing with recent episodes to catch up on. This has been quite an adjustment.

In light of that, I’m going to try and post twice a week, okay?

There is so much I want to share- the way Harper loves her “brudder”, Sammy, the gifts and meals that are multiplying by the day, the birthday party that is trying to get stitched together for both Brian and Harper this weekend (am I crazy?), pictures, a reflection of my time at the hospital and ALL the lovely people involved in our care…(you didn’t all think you could escape an appearance on the blog, did you?)

But for now, I’m going to take a nap while all is quiet in the house.

Tomorrow

Just when I thought this roller coaster ride was going to make me sick, something wonderful happened…

We let Joyce do the 10am feeding and went to brunch. She had said Dr. Khurana typically made it by the NICU overflow where Sam is at around lunch time. Trying to get back, we got stuck in UGA school traffic, but opted to drop by “our little house” to pick up some necessary items such as crayons, paper, and a book for a long wait in the waiting room.  We walked that familiar walk from one end of the hospital to the other, focused on getting there to hear what the doc had to say and try to get a feel for what our leave date might be. If we are going to be here through Monday, we need to know. Some plans are going to have to be made to get Brian back to work.

I was walking in my usual unobservant bubble. Brian, who has robotic-like face recognition installed, happened to say, “There’s Dr. Khurana,” after he walked by. I turned and hollered his name. We got our debrief right there in the lobby. He said Sam just had his hearing test, that everything looked good, he needs to pass his car seat test, and it looks like we should be GOING HOME FIRST THING IN THE MORNING.”

Excuse me, did you hear that?!  I might have jumped into his arms and kissed him right then and there, I can’t remember.

This huge weight has floated off of me. I’m in such a good mood. Harper and Brian and I just went to walk around at the mall on a Friday night. It has been a long time since I have done anything on a Friday night, and walking around the mall with DQ blizzards was as satisfying as any I can remember. Brian finally got me on board with letting Harper do the spider jump (the bungee trampoline thing) and she was completely insane. She went so high and just laughed. We got it on video, and I will  share it sometime, but for now, let me just share this incredible few moments of our day:

Sam still has to maintain his temperature and pass his car seat test (they put him in his car seat for an hour and make sure he can handle the change), so we are still keeping fingers and toes crossed. We’re not out of here just yet, but we are quite hopeful. He’s got what it takes.

See you at HOME!

Transitioning

Tuesday, February 21st

I’m sure you’ll be glad I spared you the roller coaster of emotions we’ve been riding since I last wrote, but you’ll also be glad to know we are happy today and slowly moving towards home. We didn’t make it to Pediatrics like we hoped. Getting out of the NICU once you’re in is like piecing together an intricate puzzle to unlock the door. Sam continues to do really well.

The reasoning for not letting him go on Sunday, as the nurse had hoped, was that Dr. Connor wanted to be on the safest side possible when it came to letting Sam begin to feed. Statistically there was a 5% – 10% chance that a baby who had undergone such stress to his internal organs could develop a bacterial infection in his gut if he ate in the first 24 hours. Dr. Connor wanted to wait at least 48 hours to be sure. I am okay with being on the safe side. Sam is now nursing every three hours.

They have  him on an IV of dextrose so his blood sugars remain stable. One of the pieces to the puzzle involves lowering his IV doses enough so that he gets hungry so that he eats more…but he has to be eating before they will lower it (taking some time for me to figure that out). Another piece is his temperature regulation.

When we left after the 4am feeding, we felt pretty confident that he would be able to move to peds today. When we came back for the 7am feeding, they said he had gotten a little cool so they had to turn up  his little warmer. It looked like he wouldn’t make it to peds today. They have to get the warmer lowered before he can go. A little setback.

We met Dr. Khurana today, this is the one we had heard a lot of good things about. I like him a lot. He explained all that needs to fall into place. So, Sam is going under the Bili lamp. That should help make him feel more awake as they get some jaundice out. That should help him eat more. They are lowering his IVs. That should make him feel more hungry. Once he is eating longer- larger amounts- then we get to go…unless some other piece to the puzzle has to be figured out.

On my side of the hospital; I’ve officially been discharged. We are waiting to hear word about the “Guest House” which we are eligible for since we live so far away and our baby is in the NICU. If all works out, we will have a suite where Harper can have her own little space to sleep (because we know how she can be) and the three of us will be together until Sam is ready to leave.

Do you realize what else this means? 

It means that the three of us are going to go to the zoo at the UGA campus between feedings tomorrow. Me….in a car…going somewhere for fun.

Right now, Brian is giving Sam his 1:00 feeding from a bottle. A woman named Annette from the Mothering Education department just stopped by to see if I had any questions and I asked her about bottle feeding him. It makes me so sad that when we finish a nursing session, we tell them how long he ate and the nurses say, “good job!” Then I found out they go behind me with a tiny bit of (my) milk in a bottle and offer it to him. Ouch. That hurts my feelings. This is how they check to see if he’s getting enough from me. When he refuses the extra, he’s getting enough…I don’t even remember how I posed my question in all that, but she understood perfectly and gave me a reassuring answer, that going from bottle to breast is nothing at all to worry about. She knew exactly the two steps forward, one step back frustrating puzzling every parent goes through to get their child home. She said if we end up having to leave today that it will be the hardest day yet. I started crying. She hugged me.

We’ve had a familiar face around the past couple of days, Rabun Gap! Our very own Amanda Atkinson knocked on the door first thing in the morning and came in to take my vitals. She is here doing her clinicals and doing a very good job. Wasn’t it cool that she got to be here, right in this department? It makes me that much closer to home to see her smiling face here.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Thursday, February 23rd

…That was as far as I got on Tuesday before things got hectic and sleep became more important (sorry) … Now it is Thursday.

We have been moved into the “Guest House” which is a small suite across the street from the other end of the hospital from Labor and Delivery. It is just what we need. Harper is sleeping well here. Brian and I took turns waking up through the night to be there for feedings. Everyone should know what a wonderful daddy it takes to do this. Nurses could easily give Sam a bottle every three hours, but he treks over each time to do it  himself. Luckily, all I have to do is call security and they will send someone over to drive me back around to the other side of the hospital. The walk through the hospital was killer for me. I felt like I had taken one of Elisa’s classes yesterday and all I had done was that walk a couple of times…it’s going to be a lengthy road back to “normal,” I’m afraid.

But I feel much better already as far as surgery goes. I feel much better as far as sleep goes, today, too.  We did make it on that little zoo trip yesterday. It was bliss even though I felt cruddy and exhausted. Sam’s nurse last night, Donna, encouraged me to sleep through the two middle of the night feedings. I did. Now I’m up for the 7am feeding and feeling good.

The Sam update is so good. He was moved into the “overflow” NICU area yesterday, which is out of Labor and Delivery and back over to Mother and Baby, next to the regular nursery. He got to move because he is simply the superstar of the NICU. While most babies take awhile to get good at eating, he is chowing down, and that is 98% of the puzzle. He needed one more day of Bili-lamp even though his jaundice level was exactly what Harper’s was when they let her leave Stephen’s County hospital.*

Everyone we talk to gives a different vibe as to when we will be able to go home. Donna was awesome and had us feeling like we would be home at the end of the week. I’ve begun to let every nurse know that Brian has to be back at work on Monday and that I can’t do this alone…in hopes that they will realize that we are really wanting to know a when. You can’t just come out and ask. That would be jinxing something.

So while I am sprung free from my enclosure, we are still stuck. While we are finally a family again, we really aren’t. Home is calling my name louder now that we are this much closer. I guess we are still on a roller coaster, but I think we’re getting close to the end of it.

Here’s Sammy on Tuesday with no tubes or wires!

Here we are on my first excursion from the hospital in a month and several days. We went to Memorial Park Zoo!

(something wrong with our lens- it wouldn’t focus correctly)

Harper on Daddy's Shoulders

Fish Tanks are Exciting!

Checking Out Turkeys

What a Hoot!

Free!!!

*He is now at a 7 and  guaranteed done with lamp once dr. comes by….waiting…waiting….

Two and a Half Days

Sorry we left everyone hanging…we just needed a day or two to catch our breath.

Friday; Samuel Montgomery was lifted out at 7:41am, February 17th. He is a long, lanky, little guy; 5 Pounds, 12 Ounces, 19 and3/4 inches long. Cute as he can be.

I was able to see his body from where I was while capable hands quickly assessed him. They put a little mask over his mouth and nose and manually pumped him with some oxygen*during those first minutes. I won’t forget the NICU nurse turning after a couple of moments to gently inform us that he was having some difficulty breathing and that she would need to take him with her.

No, this wasn’t what we had expected. Because they had to cut through the placenta to get to him, a good bit of the blood that was supposed to go into his body through his cord did not make it to him, so poor little Sam just had to ramp up his breathing to get the blood he was left with up to his brain. He achieved this goal and kept his oxygen levels right where they needed to be. It’s just that he had to work extra hard to get them there.

Later tests showed that he had lost at least 45% of his blood in just those first minutes. He received a blood transfusion within a few hours and has been working quickly to get back on track ever since. He had his Daddy right by his side nearly every minute of that first day- his silent cheerleader. He is doing really well.

Brian took solace in knowing that I had my own cheerleaders with me as he stayed with Sam. Back in the recovery room after being glued back together, I had my own little battle with some blood loss. My mom found herself right in the midst of things as the post-placenta previa bleeding presented my caretakers with several options. Because the placenta had been located in the lower part of my uterus, it lacked the solid tension it needed to contract and quit the bleeding now that the placenta was gone. Basically, it was like an open wound in need of pressure. One of three things could have happened to stop the bleeding: Pressure could be placed on the “wound”; they could wheel me back into the OR and perform a D&C to suction everything out; or they could need to perform a hysterectomy in order to finally get the bleeding under control. I got away with the very best scenario and it worked like a charm…I’m just going to envision balloons differently from now on.

My nurses, Tara and Anna, Midwife Meredith, and Dr. Allen all worked quickly and so efficiently together (my mom has shared her admiration at their work with me from her vantage point) to use what is called a Bakri Balloon which they “installed” and filled with water. Once it was filled, it placed pressure where it needed to be placed, from the inside, and started working right away. Thank you, inventor of the Bakri Balloon. You may have saved me my uterus. I lost 1600 ccs initially, then about 50 ccs per hour after that for the next few hours, then it tapered off quickly and I am doing just fine…taking some extra iron. That little hiccup, combined with the effects of epidural drugs and my own crazy hormones, made for a rough day Friday.

One thing I absolutely admire about the caretakers here is that they don’t let anything get in the way of a mama who needs to see her new baby. Once my self-assessment was complete and I had determined that I was perfectly fine, I called Tara to let her know that I was ready to be-bop down the hall to the NICU and just swing by and pick up my little cuddle bug…or something like that…

She came faithfully and without questioning my desire one bit. I had about fifty cords coming out of me in different directions. We got those sorted and I slowly sat up. I barfed a bit and we continued. I got into the wheelchair and we made our way to the NICU. Through the first door and into the washroom which leads into the NICU, Tara waited patiently while I barfed some more and one of the NICU nurses came out to help console me. I am really thankful that there weren’t other parents in the washroom to witness my new hobby I have decided to call “Puke-Bawling.” It’s where you bawl because you are so upset that you are puking because all you want to do is see your baby.

I finally made it to his bedside. Brian explained everything he had been through very carefully. His transfusion was complete and he had pinked up and taken the blood well.  He had a little tube in his nose, but he never needed actual oxygen. All it was doing was pumping a bit of warmed, humidified air  just to help his lungs inflate better and get out any amniotic fluid. He had a tiny orange tube coming out of his mouth and taped to his chin, and a whole bunch of sensors. I was in a fog, couldn’t keep my eyes open, and didn’t want to vomit on my child, so Tara wheeled me back.

Throughout the day, we had a great little support team. Aunt Suzanne shared a graceful balance between her niece and nephew. She and Harper spent morning time together and she and Brian and Sam hung out for a long time in the NICU that afternoon. She brought back videos to show me. Cary drove down early so she could be with Harper. She had learned about a playground right up the street and she took Harper there in the stroller. She and Harper were right by my side when the neonatal doctor came in to deliver the status of Sam and the confusing news that his stay in the NICU could be much longer than I had expected. Cary and Harper both consoled me when I burst into tears. Harper patted my knee and brought me jello and it really did make me feel better…that girl…just don’t even get me going…I love her.

Mom and Dad were right there too, giving attention to me, Sam, and Harper throughout the day. Brian’s parents had to attend a funeral in West Virginia and should be getting in to visit today or tomorrow. Sally and Ina were still in town and got to sneak in and see Sam. I can’t really recap the day justly. I was out of it.

The good part about the closure of Friday was that I got to wheel back in to see Sam at around 10pm, nausea free. I got to look at him forever and kiss him. It was hard to fall asleep thinking of my baby over there without us. I used a good bit of tissue throughout the night.

Saturday was a new day, though; a day that began with a visit from Dr. Smith who removed my balloon, catheter, and IV port all at once. Freedom. A shower. Then a disappointing wait once we arrived at the NICU, cord free, to see Sam. The doctor had just gotten there to do rounds and they won’t let anyone in while he does this. We waited.

Finally we got to him. I got to hold him! He is amazing. They were weaning him from his air tube and he had gone from a 5.0 the night before to a 3.0. (meaning the amount of air they were giving him) and was headed quickly in the right direction. Harper and Nana arrived and Brian took Harper to the playground while Nana sat with me and Sam. I have not been able to feed him yet because of the stress on his kidneys, liver, and  his other less vital organs while he was getting all that blood to more important places. The doctor wants to see these acting better before he lets him  nurse. This has been a little hard for me to deal with. It feels like I’m starving my child…but we’re getting there. Possibly today, they say.

As the day moved on, I gained more and more comfort in the situation. The nurses with Sam are so good and now leaving him doesn’t seem so hard. Papa and Brian had a good visit with Sam in the afternoon, and I got special visitors; Aunt Gail and Unckie Roy drove all the way from south Georgia just to see me. Later, Carolyn and Francois came for a long visit and brought Sam the most beautiful giraffe.

Brian and I returned to Sam’s  bed last night and both got to hold him skin to skin. I loved that his nurse, Katie, thanked us for coming in and told us we made Sam’s night. As if he didn’t make ours.

Today it is Sunday; We have just had the best news of all! Sam’s nurse, Laura, mentioned that they would be getting full later today or early in the morning with a transfer baby. She thought Sam would be a good candidate to be transferred to Pediatrics. I was confused at first because I thought this meant that he would be taken to a different nursery, but she said someone had to be with him all the time and she wasn’t sure I could be discharged. We took it as something to think about.

When we got back to Mother/Baby, we gave all our nurses (they are all our nurses- remember how long I’ve been here?) the update and the news that he was being considered. They all lit up and told us that it probably meant he would have his own room and I would be in the room with him, but if I were discharged, I would just be like Sam’s guest in his room….same room! No nursery! He would get to meet his big sister! I’m so excited right now. We wheeled down the hall and immediately called Laura to tell her that I could likely be discharged today and go with him, to PLEASE keep us in mind as the candidates!

…and that’s where we are. I’m beaming right now. Everyone, keep your fingers crossed that we go to Pediatrics today! Incredible things have happened in two and a half days. We’ve caught our breath and we’re moving forward.

________________________

*They did not manually pump, Brian says. What do I know? I was craning my neck from an operating table being sewn and glued, and I was looking through scrubs and elbows.

The End.The Beginning.The In Between: 35 Weeks, 5 Days

We have reached the end of a long journey and we approach the beginning of a new life.

I developed this title thinking I would be focusing on the waiting and the painful slowness of today, but here I am getting ready to go to bed and I have just begun to write! Bright and early this morning, Dr. Allen came in humming the Barry Manilow tune, “Looks Like We Made It.”  It does indeed look that way. Hallelujah! We discussed the process of tomorrow, the possibilities, the plan. After she left, I didn’t even have a chance to get dressed and brush my teeth before Brian’s parents arrived for a visit. Brian and Harper came early today, too. I had no idea that all that quiet, still time I’m so used to ended yesterday.

Throughout the day, other people came to discuss preparations that will take place tomorrow; a labor and delivery nurse went over a variety of paperwork-type stuff and stayed for a long time to really give me the breakdown of the way the morning will work; a nurse anesthetist came to discuss that whole aspect of the surgery. It amazes me all that goes on in prepping for essentially the same thing that happened almost immediately at 10:00 at night for me last time.

I’m not sure it has hit me that Samuel will be with us by 8:00 in the morning. It does, however, seem to be something that Harper is truly grasping, surprisingly well for her age, anyway. That soon-to-be big sister avoided a nap again, yet fell victim to “quiet rest time” here at the hospital today, until her Aunt Suzanne came to whisk her away for the evening. Last I heard, “Aunt Zoup” and Wonder Woman were cracking eggs together at Nana and Papa’s.

I know that she understands that Sammy will actually be a baby tomorrow- someone she can see, hold, and talk to. We practiced holding her baby doll, Molly, today and putting our elbows under her head. That was cute for a little bit. The next thing I knew, Molly was being used as a step-stool to help Harper reach her juice. We’ll let you know how tomorrow goes…

Aunt Sally and Aunt Ina were our last visitors of the evening. Brian enjoyed showing them the remote control helicopter and I loved my beautiful blue yarn from Black Mountain. We learned about cousin Russell’s training for his iron-man marathon next month. Let me just inform any of you who may not know: that is a 2.2 mile swim, a 100+-mile bike ride, and a 26.2-mile run….in one day…one….like…consecutively...and actual human beings are the competitors…I was thinking I might join him, but Ina thought my lack of physical activity over this last couple of months might hinder me some (My cousin trains 10 hours per day). Oh well. Good Luck, Russ!

I’m going to close my eyes soon and thus close this chapter; this chapter of waiting on a baby in a hospital.  It is already feeling like that little blip on the timeline. I am in such a different place, mentally, than I was two weeks ago, when I seemed stuck in the stagnant center of all of this. But time does indeed move forward. When I wake up tomorrow morning, I won’t eat french toast sticks and watch Will and Grace while someone takes my blood pressure. Instead, I will go have a baby.

I’m hoping that the placenta lets loose easily of course.  More than that, though, I’m anxious about hearing those first little sounds.  I’m hopeful, yet nervous, about hearing the doctors say that he is alright, that he gets to go to the regular nursery, that his lungs are working well. But, then, I guess that just makes me a regular mom to a new baby, like anyone else. I’ve reached that point. That makes me happy.

So thanks for sticking with us and for being interested and for being involved. Naturally, there will be more posts- posts that include little pictures of big sister kisses and weight and length and all that stuff. Posts that indicate we really made it. Posts that continue on into our lives as a family of four…

It’s the end, but it’s really just the beginning.

Dear sweet, patient Sam,

I want you to know how excited we are to meet you. I can’t remember being more excited for anything, ever. I will go to sleep tonight thinking of you and talking to you and encouraging you to be well. In a little less than nine hours, we will meet. Be strong. You’ll go through a lot in the morning, and it may not all be pleasant. Just know we love you and before long, we will take you home. 

Mama and Daddy

DIY: 35 Weeks, 4 Days

If any of you should ever find yourselves in the hospital on Valentine’s Day, just call me and I’ll see if I can loan you my team. My family was so sweet last night. I cancelled my 5:00pm watery tilapia with yellow rice and limp broccoli on a tray because Mom and Dad were bringing dinner! Mom made chicken enchiladas, spanish rice, and guacamole, and then the most amazing layered mocha cheesecake with chocolate ganache. Wow. It was incredible. There were red flowers on a white tablecloth. Brian brought sparkling cider, a red rose, and my sweet baby girl all festive in her red sweater. We had a wonderful time.

Earlier in the day, I had begun to knit some fingerless gloves with Suzy’s leftover red yarn, but they were turning out to be too big. A little later I realized that being stuck in here, I didn’t have anything for anyone for Valentine’s Day and here I am a Mama, too. I knew no one was expecting me to get them anything, but despite being completely challenged in the area of inventiveness and creativity DIY-style, I came up with a little idea!

I knitted Harper this cute little pouch and filled it with chocolates that I will almost definitely eat myself….What? The girls stays awake on chocolate, people.  I threw in a chapstick which she can use. The point is, I made it up all by myself. I even thought of the holes around the neck through which I wove pink yarn. I’m going to make more of these once I perfect my design.

…and that is what is keeping me busy these last, slow-moving days. I’m trying not to think about how much fun Brian and Harper are having today. They found a little petting zoo and a many-acred park here in town that they are checking out at this very moment. I’m eating my special salad which did not come from the menu, and I’m  knitting things up out of the blue.

What did you do for Valentine’s Day?

Four Boxes: 35 Weeks, 2 Days

I’m staring at four empty boxes on the countdown calendar.

My last couple of days have been pretty uneventful, and I therefore lack any captivating post material. I’ll do my best…

I have done a good bit of knitting. I am really close to completing the little sweater vest for Sam (using the Plymouth Yarn from Renee) that I’m pretty proud of. It’s not as tiny as I had originally wanted it to be, so he’ll probably be able to wear it next year. Other than that, I’ve knitted myself out of yarn on his little blanket, but he has a hat and some no-scratch mitts to wear right away. I’ve never been so consistently productive at knitting, and probably never will be again, so that is a plus out of this circumstance.

One day, I decided to watch Disney’s Escape to Witch Mountain and Return From Witch Mountain in the spirit of revisiting movies I enjoyed in my childhood. These are straight from the seventies and were hilarious to watch as an adult, but I enjoyed them and can still totally see why I liked these flicks so much when I was younger. You might be laughing at me right now.

I also had a great visit last night from my brother-in-law and sister-in-law and their kids. Harper and Brian were here too, and Harper was delighted beyond expectations to see her cousins at the hospital! What fun they had hiding behind the curtain one at a time and playing with the remote control helicopter until the walls became too constricting and they all left to go out to dinner. I ate my Sunday night BLT and watched Ryan Seacrest interview music stars on the red carpet…

I can’t remember another time I have sat through an entire Grammy’s awards show. I was entertained, and through all the surrounding Whitney Houston media, I was reminded of my own Whitney song memory.

I was in seventh grade at Atherton Elementary School. A group of us girls had been spending our recess time doing cartwheels and swinging upside down from the monkey bars. Our P.E. teacher decided to channel our “talents” into the start of the very first Atherton Gymnastics Team. We practiced every day after school until our first “performance” at some evening assembly in the cafeteria. Coach Sims laid gymnastics mats down the isle between the audience’s chairs and we each shared a couple of moments from the song “I Will Always Love You” to show off what we had been working on. For me and most of the girls, it was performing our one-handed cartwheels (which we had learned to do by holding a cup of water in one hand), or maybe a really slow back-walkover, where we had to kick once or twice to get over. We presented these as slowly and gracefully as we possibly could to go along with the song. We were so proud.

Then, just as the drum beat and the high note hit- you know the part of the song I’m talking about- Gemia Holmes, whom we had all determined was olympics-bound, ran down the mats and did a couple of back handsprings and a back tuck to the music. She was so cool and we were all so excited about our little routine. What a silly song to do gymnastics to…but there I was, right in the mix of people wearing plaid scrunchies and printed jean shorts from The Limited Too, greatly moved by Whitney Houston’s singing. How ’bout you?

Today, after a nice visit and some time outside in the sunshine, Brian and Harper headed back to Rabun Gap with several boxes and bags full of stuff that had accumulated here in my little room. That alone feels good. We’re actually taking steps towards moving me outta here as Friday approaches.

As it approaches, though, I’m getting nervous about another bleed. This is the longest I’ve gone without any issues. Can we cross this little window of time uneventfully? Despite the potential for really boring posts such as this, I really hope so.

Four more boxes. Four.

Thirty Five Weeks Today

Dear Julia Harper,

It has been nearly two months since I last picked you up, gave you a bath, or put you to bed properly- like I used to do. This journey has not just been hard on me and your dad. It has required a champion attitude out of you. You have not let anyone down.

In less than a week, you will be a big sister to Sammy. We will all go back home shortly after he is born, and you’ll withstand a few more days of my inability to pick you up while I heal. Although I will soon return to lifting you to wash your hands at the sink, to reading to you before bed, helping you out of the pit at gymnastics, and to giving you more baths than you need, just because I want to, life will surely be different. You’ll have someone next to you in the jogging stroller soon.

Yesterday, Papa brought you to the hospital to see Daddy and me. Normally, I hear you talking in the hallways as you approach my room. You are telling whomever is listening about how many babies you saw at the window today or what you ate for breakfast. This time though, Papa stood at the door by himself, looking a little weary and toting a sippy cup, blankie, and a hundred other things you had insisted on bringing over. You were not with him. You were still down the hall chatting at the nurses’ station. While we waited for you, we talked about introverts versus extroverts, and concluded you must certainly be the latter, taking after your Great-Grandmother Nelson’s natural delight for meeting and talking to strangers. Neither of your parents possess this trait.

Shortly after you summed up your conversations with all your friends down the hall, you arrived in my room. This room you have been to so may stinkin’ times, where your Mama lies in the bed and insists that you only push the buttons with triangles; Where you play with your doctor kit and color on paper on the floor, but only with pen, because we keep forgetting to bring crayons; where you ate all of the grapes from my fruit basket and enjoyed throwing the stems in the trash. You don’t love it here, but you endure it contentedly.

After you had only been here a short time, you said, “I don’t need Mama,” as you hugged Daddy’s leg. You kind of avoided me for a little bit. Though I’m curious and frustrated about what might be going on, psychologically, in that statement, I brushed it off and later showed you the remote control helicopter Daddy bought for me for himself to fly around the room. Eventually, we were snuggling and watching PBS together, tickling, and feeling Sammy kick our hands. We went outside to our little spot and you kicked the ball and walked on the short brick wall again.  You were letting me need you.

Your adaptability has been a blessing through all of this. You go to whomever you are told and you enjoy time with grandparents, aunts, uncles and friends. The fact that you don’t need me every minute is killing me and making me glad at the same time.  You have been practicing your extroversion while I’ve been coasting on cuddles and getting to re-do your hair after Daddy’s and Papa’s attempts at ponytails fail. You can continue to chat with strangers all you want when this is all over, but I will be ecstatic to get back to being your mama in just over a week.

I can’t wait for you to meet your little brother. I know there will be rough times and moments of meltdown in our future, but you are so welcoming. You adapt well to change. You like to meet new people. So though things will never be exactly as they were,  I will always be there to lift you up, to re-do your pony tails, and to bake your birthday cakes; we’ll need each other.

I love you so, so much,

Mama