Harper's birth

So this is a post is for a specific audience... Gals who like to hear birth stories!  If that's not you, then please redirect back to Facebook!

A few people did ask, so here it is:)

I was due on Friday June 21. However, due to the size of babies I make, we had an induction set up for Monday June 17. Just a few days early to save some poundage. 

So, I had my last day of work Tues June 11 & Jason's last day of work was supposed to be Thurs June 13. My plan was to enjoy our last weekend as a family of 3 before going in on Monday; just giving Lila some 1 on 1 time, as well as letting me say a final goodbye to pregnancy. I wanted to savor the weekend, enjoy my Lila and rub my belly a little more. 

I also wanted to get my hair and toes done one last time before baby because it would be a while before I have time to do it again! So my first official day of maternity leave my only task for the day was a pedicure. I have heard that a pedicure can "send you into labor" but I just didn't buy into it. But toward the end of my pedicure, I started to feel very sick. I had to ask him to stop working. I was very dizzy and had tunnel vision and sweats! I pulled out my barf bag I carry in my purse during pregnancy, but thank the stars I didn't have to use it. I sat up and was able to feel better after some soda and fanning from the ladies who work there. 

I was embarrassed and felt AWFUL. After tipping extra, I left, immediately followed by smudging my damn big toe paint. GRRRR!

By that evening, I started feeling cramping and contractions but they weren't "timeable". Everyone says they need to be 5 min apart to go in. My doc says that, my mommy boards say that, my paperwork, my books; they all say wait till the pains are 5 min apart. 

So I didn't sleep Wednesday night. I was literally looking at Jason's face, debating which side to punch while he slumbered peacefully as I shook in the bed in sporadic pain. 

Thursday morning came. I noticed I was walking funny and was more uncomfortable than I've ever been. I continued to have contractions but they were anywhere from 20 min to 20 sec apart. So I figured I needed to tough it out and wait till they were "timeable." Just trying to be the non-annoying patient. 

Now, I'm not totally stupid, so I told Jason I thought he should call in to work. He was hesitant as it was his last day of work before paternity leave and he didn't want to look suspicious. Luckily, he did call in. He drove me to my hair appointment that I kept even though I very nearly canceled & then to lunch, where even the waiter asked if I was ok! I was still having the same type of sporadic pain. Sometimes it REALLY hurt and I had to stop what I was doing and sometimes I just tried to distract myself from the constant soreness with baths, tv, Facebook, etc. I just kept telling myself I just need to make it to Monday. 

At some point about 4pm I reached the end of my rope and called my doctor. My doctor doesn't work Thursdays. Her nurse began by asking "how many minutes apart are your contractions?"

I told her I don't know, but I hurt. She said to go to the hospital, which I knew she would, just to cover their ass. 

So I told Jason "get all your previously-prepared hospital bags and lets go."

 He looked at me blankly and started to pack a bag. He had never prepared one as told... even though I was 39 weeks pregnant. Anyway, we ran around the house throwing things in bags like fools, all the while saying how pointless this was and how they would just send us home. 

I cried all the way to the hospital about the weekend I wanted and how I wouldn't have it if it was baby time. I also cried because someone was stabbing me in the gut. Or so it felt. 

I still figured I would be checked and be at 3cm and sent home, told to return at 5am Monday for my scheduled induction. 

When I walked myself upstairs (ok the elevator!) and calmly told the nurse at the labor and delivery desk I was there to be checked "real quick", I could almost feel the label being stamped on my forehead "over-anxious mom-to-be probably wasting my time."

She pointed me to a room and told me to change. This was at 5pm when we got to the hospital. She took her time asking me questions, and "Taylor" from admitting took his time reading consent forms to me. At this point I noticed I couldn't sit normally. So about 5.15 the first nurse finally checked me. It took her a minute. She looked at me oddly and said "ummmm, this is going to sound weird to you, but I am feeling you at 10cm and your water is bulging. I need a second opinion because you don't look like a woman at 10cm." 

She came in with another nurse. This nurse checked and said "yep, you're complete. We just need to break this water and have a baby!"

WWWHHHAAAATTT???!!!!! 

Wait! I have Lila in the room! I didn't plan this! My hair is still wet from getting it done today! How can I be fully transitioned?!!!!!!! WAIT! What about my EPIDURAL??!!!! I'm supposed to be induced because of my big huge babies and I have heard you cannot get an epidural that late! 

So people start flooding the room, attitudes immediately changed and started taking me a lot more seriously. Pace was picking up and I'm still asking what about my epidural. The nurse tells me she's calling my doctor and that an epidural will slow this way down because they haven't done any initial bloodwork and it would be at least an hour. I told her I'd wait the hour! She looked at me in a way that told me what I already knew... I wasn't getting pain relief for this. They did offer narcotic pain meds in my IV. Ya know, the one that was being jammed in my arm by an apparent noob. I told them no. I cannot take narcotics for THIS task. It just makes you sleepy and loopy and it makes baby that way too. It doesn't numb you. So I declined. 

I asked where my doc was and in she walked. In flip flops. Turns out she lives really close. At least she cares. 

She suited up and I mentioned the epidural and she just told me no and that I've already done the hard part. I knew it was over when she came in. She and the nurse took turns coaxing me to relax my legs and just push. Finally I did, because it was hurting so badly I didn't know what else to do. There was nowhere to go and there were now 4 nurses with hands on me nicely, but firmly explaining there's only 1 thing left to do. 

 In 3 contractions (9 pushes) she was here. 9lbs, 21 inches. Born at 6.04pm, just 1 hour after I stepped into the hospital, took a bathroom break, took my time moseying up to the 3rd floor, completely unprepared for birth. 

I did it. I'm proud of me. I'm still shocked. Unintentionally, no medicine to start contractions, no medicine to soften me up, no pain meds. Just my body doing what it knew to do. Pretty cool. I'll take my "natural childbirth badge of honor" that I never thought I'd have.... and still recommend that epidural:)

The real lessons of second grade

True story :
When I was in the second grade, the movie The Little Mermaid was very popular and it was my favorite movie! It still is.
Anyway, I once told one of my classmates that after I left school I went and turned into a mermaid and lived in the ocean with the characters from the movie. Why did I do it? Couldn't tell ya. Who DOESN'T wanna be a mermaid? So, the girl believed me for about a week and finally she brought it up to her mom. Her mom told her that I was a liar and to stop hanging out with me at all at school.
So, I lost a friend because I lied about becoming a mermaid in second grade.
Lesson learned.

Texas; shit it's hot.

“She'd grown up believing in hell in an abstract nightmare way; but west Texas had given her something more concrete upon which to dread the afterlife.”
― Cherie Priest, Dreadful Skin

Why, every summer, is there a plethora of pictures on facebook/twitter/*insert new social media here* of everyone's temperature gauge in their car? You know the ones. Sometimes its the weather channel forecast. Yep, it's gonna be hot. And not what a Minnesotan thinks is hot (because that's what I call cold), but burn-your-skin-off-on-freakin-grass hot. Why such discussion about how hot it is? *GUILTY!* We all know it's summer in Texas, and know it's always this hot, right?

Well, no, we don't know. By the time summer rolls around again, we have packed the memory of last year so far away, with other painful memories. Suppressed. Either that, or our damn brains have melted into a liquid pool in our skulls, susceptible to leaking out of our craniofacial orifices at any time. And maybe it does. Maybe that was line of drips I could not identify in my kitchen last week.
Why must the 7th circle of hades open up at my feet each June thru September? I open my front door to check the mailbox that's only 15 feet away, and a gust seeming of fire singes my eyelashes and eyebrows. Flambe`! Immediately, I feel the sunburn set in (SPF 50 be damned) and by the time I get back inside, I am out-sweating my clinical-strength antiperspirant and only a brisk walk away from a full-blown heat stroke. I don't remember the geography lesson that showed the map of Texas lying smack-dab in the middle of the surface of the sun. Yet, there are certainly pools of molten lava bubbling at my feet and magma-dipped surfaces in my Volkswagen after a quick run into Target.
When the sun goes down, the earth sizzles, still radiating heat and recovering from another brutal, dehydrating day. My water bill is sky-high and my mascara has melted down to the tops of my socks.
The lawns are wilted, there are fried eggs on the sidewalks (ok, not really, but could be), the pools feel more like baths, and lets face it, urine, and the crime rate is up. WHY do we stay here in Texas when I know this is going to happen again next year? I could live in Portland, where Jason says he wants to move, or live in Connecticut where my Italian roots still lie, or in Maine or some other such northern state. Well, in the words of one literary legend:

“I have said that Texas is a state of mind, but I think it is more than that. It is a mystique closely approximating a religion. And this is true to the extent that people either passionately love Texas or passionately hate it and, as in other religions, few people dare to inspect it for fear of losing their bearings in mystery or paradox. But I think there will be little quarrel with my feeling that Texas is one thing. For all its enormous range of space, climate, and physical appearance, and for all the internal squabbles, contentions, and strivings, Texas has a tight cohesiveness perhaps stronger than any other section of America. Rich, poor, Panhandle, Gulf, city, country, Texas is the obsession, the proper study, and the passionate possession of all Texans.”
― John Steinbeck

YEE-HAW, I'm stayin another summer.

Do you believe in Magic... Mike that is.

One more day, ladies. It is our turn to objectify men a little with the release of the movie of the summer (says me), Magic Mike. I don't even have to see the movie and I can tell you that it was great! 2 thumbs up. 5 stars. Oscar, People's Choice, MTV award... bravo, encore, encore gentlemen.
Thank you, cast, for throwing all dignity to the side, permanently recorded on film, in the name of sexy.
There doesn't need to be a plot or Oscar-worthy acting skills. This movie is about the fine form of the male body that is Channing Tatum. I have had a huge crush on him since I saw him in "Step Up" with his now-wife Jenna Dewan (lucky broad). The movie is loosely based on his life as a stripper before he found fame. Now, why couldn't I have wandered into that club?
I jest, mostly, as truth be told, I have been to an actual male strip club only once in my life and it was for a friend's birthday. It was not fun at all. Maybe it was because the strippers were jerks and I was too young, not on drugs, not drunk and didn't have tons of cash. Or maybe it was because Channing wasn't there. I have made a vow to try out a better club once more before I die. Maybe it will be better. I attended a female burlesque in Vegas once called La Femme and it was amazing. Guys have a lot of catching up to do to reach that level of art form.
 I still consider myself a good Christian girl (usually), even though I am looking forward to such a movie. Is it my dark side? No, its my human side. The one God gave me. Jesus still loves me and I know because he tells me so. This girls night out is much overdue and a highly anticipated distraction for me at this time in my life. So, tomorrow night you can find me at BJ's brewhouse and then oogling at Studio Movie Grill. Say hey if you're around.
I'll leave you with this tidbit that echo my exact sentiments:
"You know magic Mike is going to be great when Matthew McConaughey is the least attractive of the group."
Happy viewing, ladies (and gents, too)!

PS. Yes, my husband knows all of this. It's no secret. And if his heartrate rises a little at reading this, I appreciate his healthy level of jealousy and I have 2 words for you, dear. Mila Kunis. Love you.

Happy birthday, Mom

It is my mom's birthday today. She would have been 56.  What a hard day. I am walking around heartbroken everyday.
My mom's sister, Cathy, came to town to spend time with me. Seeing my aunt makes me feel like a little piece of my mom is here. They have some similarities in the sound of their voices and their laughs but also, its important to me to be around people who loved my mom too. Who knew her. Who appreciated her. Who just "got" her. We even did something that my mom and I would have done today... even on her own birthday, she would have bought Lila some new baby clothes. And that is just what Cathy and I did. We also got Sprinkles cupcakes in honor of Mom. We also got a flower delivery from Ashley and a nice photobook of pictures she designed of Mom so that Lila can have a book of Grandma. It was such a great idea. I wrote Lila a little note  in the front of the book and made notes thru it so that Lila can always look and see Grandma, and her whole family for that matter.  I am so thankful for the support system that I do have, but I just cannot stop missing my mom and thinking of her. I never thought that her birthday last year would be our last together. I would give just about anything to bring her back.
Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.

Pretty birthday flowers and Lila Grace with her great Aunt Cathy (wearing a new outfit Cathy got her today!)

Confession:
 I hate today.
I miss my mom.
I feel lonely.
100 people could sit in this room and I would feel lonely.
11 days seems like a lifetime.
And last thought for today, I am starting to harbor major resentment to the Tarrant County medical examiners office since they won't tell me what happened even though they know! FU jerks

Loss

I am sorry I couldn't keep up with this blog so well lately. Maybe I can find comfort in rambling later. I was just getting started and my best friend, my mom left this world. So I just can't get my mind right. My mom was the most thoughtful, generous, considerate, funny, best person ever. Closest to a saint I knew.

Rest in peace, Mom.

June 2, 1956 - May 6, 2012

This is probation, not vacation...

Everyday on the way in to work I imagine that my life should have a soundtrack and I should surely be riding in slow motion down 35W, windows down, starbucks in hand, going the exact speed limit, shirt tucked in while the music blares "they see me rollin, they hatin, patrollin they tryin to catch me ridin dirty..."

I am a probation officer. I am not a cop. Those aren't the same thing. I don't wear a uniform, I don't get a flashy car with lights (just a white car with the county logo on the side), I don't carry a gun, nor have I cuffed anyone, but I have had people arrested. I just make the cops do the hard part :)  The most physical I have gotten is a handshake, and even that is almost always unwelcomed.  But, don't be fooled, this job has the potential to be extremely dangerous and I have law enforcement grade pepper spray and an "adult probation" windbreaker and I know how to use them!
Sometimes I just say I am a babysitter since its essentially the same thing.  If you are wondering if you might also be a probation officer, here are some things I have experienced and they may help you determine if you are a probation officer, too.

If you have ever had to wipe your feet AFTER you leave someone's home.
If you have ever been to a home where there was so much bird shit from the pet parrot that you couldn't walk through the house.
If you know people who think its YOUR job to get them a job.
If you have been told the reason a drug test is positive is because an ex was trying to get even and spiked the punch with cocaine.
If you have been told the dentist instructed him to put cocaine on his tooth for pain.
If you have been told sexual intercourse passed the methampetamine from his body to hers, causing the positive drug test.
If Med-Star ambulance visits your office more than often than the white house has a sex scandal.
If you've ever told someone to shower and get a job in the same day, and its not your child.
If you go into a house and there is no floor and the roof is leaking, but there is a brand new 60' Plasma TV.
If your answer to everything is "first, get the breathalyzer."
If you walk into a bar and the bar clears.
If your idea of a "round up" is throwing on a bullet proof vest and checking homes and bars.
If you don't have to talk to someone... you can just read their tattoos.
If your ringtone is "Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do..."
If a male has followed you into a female bathroom. (and subsequently went to jail)
If your idea of a bracelet is double hinged handcuffs.
If you have ever seen a grown woman pee in a cup.
If you have ever seen a 400 lb grown woman pee in a cup.
If you have ever seen a 400 lb grown woman pee in a cup and then try to go ahead with "number 2."
If the most expensive piece of jewelry you ever give someone is an electronic monitoring bracelet.
If you have ever seen more infectious disease than the community outreach center.
If you have seen a grown man with a piece of bologna in between his ankle monitor and his leg.
If you have ever found a baggie of weed at work (and it really wasn't yours).
If known gang members have tried to bring illegal knives into your building.
If you have used the words "being a felon sure is inconvenient, isn't it?"
If you have to go out of town to party and have a good time.
If your friends ask you to run a check on the baby daddy.
If your idea of a good read is someone's criminal history.
If you've ever taken a urine or hair sample from someone and then gone straight to lunch.
If you have to do a background check on everyone you date.
If you have to avoid all the fastfood restaurants in town.
If you have EVER had a half hour conversation on the appropriate color of urine.
If you buy hand sanitizer and Lysol in bulk.
If 10 of the 20 people you talk to in the day have tooth.   (as opposed to teeth)
If every third phone call is "John Doe's mom."
If one of your on-the-job hazards is someone throwing a cup of their own pee at the wall.
If small children greet you with "Is daddy going away again?"

Take my word for it, there is some crazy mess going on out there. Listen to me. I am going to tell you how to stop this from being you. Hugs, not drugs. And, kids, stay in school.  BAM!! Prison population should go way down now that I told the secret. You're welcome.

Avery can

"We would rather be away from these earthly bodies, for then we will be at home with the Lord."
                                                                                                                         -Corinthians 5:8


So, those closest to me have known that for the last week I have not been able to get this little girl, whom I have never even met, off my mind and my heart.
Read her blog & story here:
http://www.averycan.blogspot.com/

*WARNING: you will need a box warehouse of tissues*




I found little Avery's blog over the weekend and she immediately found a place in my heart.  It was extremely painful to read about her and I cried and cried. So, then what did I do?  Well, like any self-respecting masochist would do, I subscribed to every single piece of social media I could get my hands on that had to do with Avery. I combed over the pages and pictures of her blog and her facebook fanpage and decided I would make myself part of her "bucket list." 
Then, Tuesday morning I logged in and saw the blog entry that nobody expected to see yet. Avery had already lost her battle with SMA (spinal muscular atrophy) and went home to the Lord.  While that is a wonderful place for Avery, that is surely painful for those left behind.  I cannot stop thinking about her mommy & daddy and how they are doing what no mommy or daddy should ever have to do, right now... planning their daughter's funeral.  This wasn't how it was supposed to go! How sad, how unfair! She was supposed to have 18 months! I couldn't keep it together at work and had to lock myself in my office for a while and bring myself back to the reality that life isn't fair.
I am not sure why this story affects me so much, when there is admittedly an overflow of sadness, sickness all around me. Maybe its because I saw a picture of Avery where she had on the same onesie that Lila has.  Maybe because she and Lila are about the same age and I can see Lila's little face in those pictures of Avery. 
Whatever the reason, I feel like maybe if I share in the story, read the story, cry, feel, remember the story, then I can help absorb a tiny, infinitesimal piece of this pain for those parents and that baby girl.  You may think that sounds crazy, but I say prove me wrong. There are a lot of things in the universe I cannot explain. And it's the least I owe the universe.

So what can you, I, or anyone do? Well, Avery would like to spread the word about SMA and also advocate the testing for it so that less babies will be born with SMA.  The testing is simple bloodwork done on one or both parents to see if they are carriers. If you are planning to have a child, please ask your Ob/Gyn about testing. Even if you already have healthy kids, you could still be a carrier and pass it on to future kids.

Not having kids? Done having kids? Well then you can make a donation to SMA research through The Sophia's Cure Foundation, as found on Avery's blog. You can also find them here:
Sophia's Cure
An anonymous donor will be matching all donations up to 500k! Please read more on the above link for details about the gene therapy and about donations (tax deductible!)

As for me, I made a donation and I will be asking for SMA carrier testing the next time I think it's a good idea to have a baby (and it's gonna be a while!). And THAT was the biggest item on Avery's bucket list.

Life if fragile, handle with prayer.

Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain...

Or woman behind the curtain.  While there is no such thing as Oz (right?), there is someone blogging behind the curtain. Who am I? Well, thats a good question. I would love to sum it up for you in a quick few words, paragraphs, pages, chronicles, or yellow brick roads.
BUT *I* haven't even decided who I am yet (are you a good witch or a bad witch?), so I cannot tell you.  Maybe we can figure it out together because I have not yet determined it's time for me to stop moving, changing, growing, evolving, searching... for a little courage, heart and brains!

I can, however, tell you some static information about myself and that could help you make some dynamic assumptions.  I am 30. I am female. Bored already? You haven't even given me a minute to warm up! I haven't written since college.
I am a mama. I am a probation officer for one of the biggest counties in the great state of Texas. (insert yee-haw here) I am married; we'll call him "Jason." We own a new house in the whereabouts of Keller/Ft.Worth.  I am healthy to my knowledge. I have a younger brother I adore, a mother I still need, a dad with a one-of-a-kind personality, a dog who barks too much, a cat who throws up too much and a partridge in a pear tree. I was born in South Carolina in BBBTS (beautiful Beaufort by the sea) and have lived in the Lone Star state since my mom ran away with the gypsies when I was about 3 or 4 years old. Ok, so really, she didn't run away with "gypsies" so much as a young US Marine, fresh out of the corps (my dad). I went to school, got good grades (with the exception of a 3 in Algebra), got in trouble here and there, played the Cowardly Lion in a school play somewhere in there, graduated highschool with the "FIRST CLASS OF THE MILLENIUM" in 2000 (that will definitely not be so cool when my daughter understands it, as it was when I was in 3rd grade and the school staff decided it would motivate us all to stay in school) and went to college at University of North Texas. There, I changed my major 3 times, wasting many man hours and man dollars before I landed in Criminal Justice with an English minor. I did graduate (with a 3.25+ GPA). And it only took 7 years and a summer. No, I am not a doctor. To this day, I am angry I took 4 semesters of American Sign Language for my foreign language credits, since I did not need foreign language in my new major. I looked quite the fool signing the story of The Ugly Duckling to my class of potheads (poppies, poppies....)  and a few deaf tutors. I digress.
Anyway, that pretty much leads me to today (with quite a few nooks, crannies, decades, and gaping canyons missing but we can fill those in as we go).
So, let's just start from today.
I don't have a "goal" or "reason" for this blog. It will be random. Like life.

PS. I promise to add pics in future entries, because lets face it, everyone hates to read words when you can try to figure out the whole story via pictures, even if it takes much longer ;)

Oh and please, do leave a comment. Or don't if it's a rude comment. Or just lurk and pretend you didn't read this. Thats ok, too.
Stalker.
Now go, before someone drops a house on you!

The Inaugural post

Its unfortunate that my inaugural post has to be just a test to get this thing up and running... but what can ya do?

testing, testing...