Happy Birthday, Dave!

Today is my husband Dave’s 33rd birthday. While this cancer crap has been hard on everyone who loves me, he is in the unenviable position of being the only person, other than myself, of course, who has to live with this 24 hours a day. The kids are too young to be very aware of what’s actually happening, and as much as I know it’s on my parents’ minds pretty much constantly, my mom can go home and focus on other things from time to time and my dad is 1500 miles away.

Obviously, I am the only one who has to deal with the physical pain of healing from surgery, experiencing the poison of chemotherapy and actually having had the cancer inside me, but as my husband, Dave has had to deal with the reality of knowing his wife and best friend is sick and hurting and there’s really not a whole lot he can do about it.

We have been together for almost eleven years and every marriage has its ups and downs. Unfortunately, we were in a bit of a rough patch for a few months recently and then – dun dun dun (the music again) CANCER. There have been times in the last 5.5 weeks since my diagnosis when I just really wasn’t sure how we were going to make it through this cancer journey together.

Today Dave stepped up and came through for me in the most amazing way and I was reminded of why we’ve been together for as long as we have. We may still have challenges ahead of us in our relationship, but I think today was as much a birthday gift for himself as it was a huge gift to me.

We had another appointment with my plastic surgeon today – Dr. Jacobsen of the fancy schmancy Biltmore office. Over the past week, I’d been getting increasingly anxious over the fluid build up in my healing chest and especially over the pain and numbness of my left arm yesterday. I wasn’t sure if I was healing well enough to start the process of filling the implant expanders and I was just generally apprehensive about the whole appointment.

Our appointment was set for noon. We finally got called back into a room at 1:30 and we didn’t see the doctor until after 2pm. This was our fourth visit to his office and we’ve never waited less than an hour to get in with the doctor. In fact, despite the office having two waiting areas, there are usually so many people there that some have to stand for a while.

Dr. Jacobsen finally entered the room and asked how we were doing. I told him that I definitely had some fluid build up that had me concerned and tried to describe what I’d experienced with my arm yesterday. He was moving about the room, pulling over a tray of instruments, adjusting the booby spotlight and generally not seeming to pay much attention to anything I was saying. He had me open the drape top to examine me, pushed a little on the fluid build up and said it was really very little and nothing to worry about.

As I was still trying to describe the arm concerns, he rubbed an alcohol pad across the top of my chest and I winced. He told me I couldn’t feel anything and I let him know that the top of my chest is still quite tender and bruised-feeling and it did actually hurt for him to press on it like that. In order to do the fluid injection for the implant expansion, a small tool has to be pressed to the skin to find the opening in the implant. He was continuing to rub the alcohol and press the tool into me while I was trying to ask a question, so I stopped and asked what he was doing.

He joked that it was a Geiger counter and he was checking me for radiation and in the next half second I realized he was coming at me with a three inch needle.

I yelled at him to stop and he assured me that it wasn’t going to hurt (though I was obviously feeling more than he seemed to think I could). I told him that I wasn’t concerned about pain, but he couldn’t just be coming with me at a needle without telling me what we were doing. Of course, he’d explained the process last week when the drains were removed and I knew exactly what was supposed to happen today, but what kind of doctor walks into a room and starts a procedure without ever asking a patient if they have any questions or concerns about the procedure??? This whole interaction had taken place in less than three minutes after we’d been waiting for over 2 hours.

I told him that I felt like he was talking down to me and he was just worried about whether or not my boobs were going to be pretty (and he reminded me that he’s very good at what he does so of course they will be) while I had actual concerns about healing and getting well and didn’t really give a damn in that moment what my boobs were going to LOOK like. I was still concerned about not having feeling in my arm for a day and the fact that I couldn’t even make myself lunch and had to call my mom and sister to come make me a sandwich.

He said he never used the word pretty (which he hasn’t; he says I’m healing beautifully and that my new breasts will be absolutely beautiful) and then asked if they made me a good sandwich.

He said he wasn’t talking down to me and again told me that I wouldn’t feel any pain in the procedure. At this point I was pretty pissed off, so I just leaned back for him to redo the alcohol and expansion-finding tool part. I have never had a fear of needles and have always kind of enjoyed watching blood draws and things once the needle is actually in. As long as I don’t watch the insertion, I can generally watch the rest, so once I felt the needle prick, I looked to see how the rest of the process went.

As he was slowly pushing saline into the first implant, he said he’d be able to drain the fluid on the other side from the same insertion that he’d be filling the implant with. Now, the implant opening is at the top of the chest and of course, all the fluid build up was pooled in the bottom of the area (thanks, gravity). When I asked if he’d really be able to get all of that fluid out without fishing around in me with a needle, he assured me that he didn’t fish. He said if I wanted a doctor that bad, I’d have to go find one down on Van Buren. But then he admitted he might have to make another needle insertion to drain the fluid that I had.

While he was filling the implants, he turned to Dave and said over his shoulder, “See? This doesn’t hurt her. She can’t feel it, there was nothing to be afraid of.”

Of course, it wasn’t any more painful than a blood draw, but I could definitely feel several ounces of fluid entering a foreign body in my chest and I realized that my entire lower body had tensed up when I was angry. I tried to concentrate on deep breathing and relaxing and by the time the first side was done, I was mostly relaxed again and even tried to make a joke about how tensed up my muscles had been.

He began the expansion on the second side, which was a bit more painful, so I mostly just watched Dave’s face watching the procedure to see how things were going. He was watching intently, but didn’t seem concerned so I continued to just try to stay calm and breathe deeply rather than think about how weird this whole thing really is. I now have little plastic bags of fluid under my skin and muscle to (eventually) look like I have boobies again. Bizarre.

Dr. Jacobsen explained to Dave (not to me) that in order to drain the fluid from the cavity, he would simply slide the needle out of the implant but keep it under the skin to draw the fluid out. This also happened to include pushing on my sore chest trying to force the fluid up to the needle with prodding and pressure. Fun.

He did eventually have to move the needle, and while the fluid extraction itself was not painful at all, there was a moment of very sharp pain that actually made me jump and cry out and my eyes immediately filled with tears from the stab of pain. I thought he’d just nicked me somehow when he’d taken the needle out, so I said, “Wow, that hurt!”

He replied, “What hurt? I haven’t moved anything. We’re almost done here.” and I realized the needle was still inside me.

He finished draining the fluid and showed me that he’d extracted almost as much as he’d injected and that it was the exact color he expected it to be to know things were healing correctly. By this point, tears of anger were streaming down my face so he handed me a tissue and went about putting away the tools and getting rid of the drained fluid.

I said I had a few questions and asked Dave to hand me my book where I’d written them. Dr. Jacobsen asked what I wanted to know, but I was so angry I could barely speak. I managed to say through clenched teeth that I was working on it and simply looked at Dave.

The doctor finally came back around to the side of my chair and asked again if I had a question for him. I was so mad that I could not even look up at him. I knew if I opened my mouth, all that was going to come out was, “Why are you such an ass?”

Luckily, Dave jumped in and explained that I am an information seeker and that if he would simply talk to me about what we were doing and answer my questions, I’d be a lot more relaxed with everything. Dr. Jacobsen asked what information he needed to give me and said he'd answered all the questions in my book - as if it was silly of me to have a book of concerns about healing when I have to manage at least three doctors for several months.

Dave asked what had happened that made me jump and cry out and Dr. Jacobsen said I was so tense that even a fly landing on me at that moment would have made me feel pain. He said he hadn't done anything that would have made me hurt. Afterwards, Dave said he'd been watching and after I jumped, Dr. Jacobsen did reposition the needle before continuing the fluid extraction as it seemed he'd created a vacuum while trying to push the fluid toward the needle above it.

Dr. Jacobsen continued to say that he could tell I was always looking for the worst case scenario and I needed to look for some positivity in my healing because I am a “healthy little girl” who just needs to try to be strong for a while and trust that he knows what he’s doing and everything is going to be fine.

This man has never taken three minutes to get to know me at all or he would know that I've approached this whole cancer experience with more positivity and strength than most people can believe...

Dave verified that the fluid build up I’d experienced was normal and asked what amount would be cause for concern or follow-up before our next appointment in two weeks. Dr. Jacobsen said that any of it would be fine and there would be no emergencies.

Wow, I am so lucky that my plastic surgeon is God!

This entire time, I was just staring at Dave, unable to speak to this ass of a doctor who seemed to think I was just a little girl who shouldn’t worry my pretty little head over such things as recovering from major surgery. And my sweet husband knew how angry I was and how anxious I was and exactly the things I needed to try to get out of the doctor to be able to relax.

When I could finally speak, I asked again about the numbness and pain in my arm. He said he had no idea what it was, but it wasn’t from anything he had done to me. It was probably something from the lymph node biopsy healing, but nothing he was concerned about and I shouldn’t worry about it either. (Yeah, right, I was absolutely ridiculous to worry about the fact that I couldn’t use my arm for an entire day. What was I thinking?)

Dave asked if he could give us any idea of how many injections I might need to get to my final breast size and Dr. Jacobsen said that of course every woman was different and I’d eventually decide what size I wanted to be because there’s no such thing as a B or C cup. How is this an answer to a question? Dave calmly asked again, “Based on Benah’s size and the fact that she’s not going to want huge breasts, how many visits do you think we will need to plan on in the next few months?”

I was so proud of him for being able to cut through the doctor’s crap and just get us an answer of how many more times I will have to endure the experience I went through today.

The doctor said he’d probably expect to give me 8-10 total injections before I was happy with the size and I might decide to stop earlier. And whenever I was happy with them, he’d want to do probably two more injections to allow for enough stretching of the skin so the implants would have a more natural motion and shape to them. He also said that while he knew I wasn’t interested in giant breasts, he probably wouldn’t be able to give me large breasts anyway because I was small and didn’t have the tissue to support them. (Sorry to those of you out there who told me to go big or go home. Sounds like I was always intended to make my money with my brain rather than my hooters...)

By this time I was able to ask a few more questions about what to expect regarding pain or muscle spasms after each expansion and he told me that I would probably be in some pain until at least December, but each week should get better than the last. And he said fluid build up was nothing to worry about, but if I didn’t like it, I should just keep wearing my compression vest as the more I wear it, the less fluid should collect in the chest cavity.

Ergh – I was so looking forward to getting out of this thing because it’s so uncomfortable, but honestly, the fluid build up was weirder. So it appears I’ll be in my pink scuba vest for a couple more weeks, at least part time. Fun.

The doctor left the room and I was still just amazed and angry about the whole interaction. Dave helped me up from the chair and helped me get dressed and knew I was still just seething at this man who treated me like I was ridiculous for having concerns about my health. Apparently they’re just boobs to him.

I know he does this procedure all day every day and honestly, the actual draining and filling of the implants was pretty uneventful (other than the one sharp stab of pain that he blamed on me...), but while it may be part of HIS routine, it’s certainly new to me.

We scheduled our next appointment for two weeks out because next week is Labor Day, but it seems this will be an almost weekly appointment for the next several months. There may be draining necessary for the next appointment or two, but that should taper off a little after I start chemo, so from there we’ll just see how I’m feeling from week to week and how I’m liking the implants as they grow.

Dave asked if I wanted to find a new doctor to finish my reconstruction. The idea certainly has its appeal, but I’m concerned about whether another surgeon would be inclined to finish what Dr. Jacobsen has started, how it would impact insurance coverage, etc. So for now, I’m trying to just tell myself that Dr. Jacobsen was recommended to me by a surgeon that I DO like very much and I DO trust. Dr. O’Neill, my breast surgeon, said that for implants, he was the best guy around. And based on his waiting room and how long it takes to get in to see him, he definitely seems to have a great reputation for doing great work.

And of course, he’s told me himself how good he is at his job...

So I’m trying to think of him as just the guy who gives me boobs, not as an actual part of my healing team. I do not intend to ask him any more questions than I absolutely need to and I will turn to Dr. O’Neill or Dr. Obenchain for most of my actual concerns about healing, despite the fact that Dr. O’Neill has told me to turn to Dr. Jacobsen for that information. He has proven that he cannot answer my questions in a satisfactory manner and I do not want to interact with him more than I need to. I trust that he is good at the surgical aspects of his job and am coming to terms with his rather limited ability to answer questions with anything more than a “Don’t worry about it,” or “Just trust me,” or “It’s fine.” Though honestly, when Dave was asking questions, he would answer them. When I asked, I was being silly and worrying too much.

Dave commented afterwards that he's either autistic-like in his social abilities or just really sexist. I'm leaning toward the latter.

I’d like to believe that all of my concerns really are nothing, but then again, my radiologists kept telling me I didn’t need to worry about that lump I’d been feeling for 18 months and we all know how that turned out. And for that matter, when I was pregnant with Fin, my midwife kept telling me I wasn’t really having contractions and there was nothing to worry about... until my water broke 5.5 weeks early and I suddenly had a baby an hour and a half later. I think I’ve done a pretty good job of listening to my body up until now and I have learned to really appreciate having doctors around me who respect the fact that I am the one living in my body and experiencing it and I might actually know what it feels like in here just a tiny bit better than they do.

So – the first draining and filling is done. I have decided that my plastic surgeon is an ass and I do not particularly like him, but he appears to be really good at the skill part of his job (based on the recommendation of a doctor who has both surgical skill AND the ability to communicate with her patients) and ultimately, I want the person who is going to give me the best medical and physical outcome when this is all said and done. I’ve suffered arrogant doctors before (though usually not for long, but we’ve already started down this road with him and I feel like it would be harder to make a switch than to just lower my expectations for his bedside manner) and I think I can make it through the next few months. With any luck, I will have completed my expansion and the final implants before the end of the year, so maybe I won’t even have to see him past the next 6 months or so.

Dave and I went out for a birthday lunch after the appointment – we were both starving by the time we got out of our “noon” appointment at 3pm – and it was so nice to feel like he had known exactly what I needed to get through that experience, how to read my needs when I was so angry and hurt that I could not speak, and how to get the information out of the doctor that I needed to hear to be able to be comfortable with what was going on. It’s been way too long since I felt like we had connected in that way and I felt like Dave really knew what was going on with me, but he came through for me today in a tough situation and I am so thankful that he was there with me. I didn’t need him to physically hold my hand because I wasn’t scared, but having him there to give me the space to be angry, and him being angry along with me, was the best support I ever could have asked for.

Happy Birthday, Dave. Thanks for spending part of your day making mine so much better. I love you.

<3
-B-

And Now He's FOUR.

Four years ago yesterday, I became a mom.

Fin's arrival was nothing at all what we expected and about 6 weeks earlier than planned, but it made me a mom, gave me the sweetest, funniest, cutest little guy to call my son, and changed my life in ways I never could have imagined.

We celebrated last night with family, cake and gifts. I let Fin pick the menu and all he wanted was Mac & Cheese. He helped me decorate his cake and we all had a blast. Pictures will come soon.

Saturday we will be hosting 18 of his friends (not sure WHAT I was thinking when I agreed to that plan) and their parents at our house. There will be a Batman bounce house in the backyard to entertain the little people. I hope my sanity is intact afterwards.

I am so blessed and lucky to have these amazing little people call me Mommy.

Boo is TWO!

I know I'm her mother and it's probably in poor taste to publicly marvel at her beauty, but holy moly can you believe this gorgeous little girl of mine is already TWO???



My Baby Boo, my sweet little peanut, my tiny little girl, is getting all grown up. I've known for a long time that time flies when you're having fun, but no one ever told me it would fly by this quickly once I became a parent. But I suppose I never knew having kids would be this much fun, either.

We celebrated Greta's 2nd birthday yesterday and had a blast. PopPop Doug and Liam came over for lunch and everyone watched Robots before Greta's nap. When she woke up, it was time for dinner, presents and CAKE!

PopPop Doug and Liam came back with Carol, Haha showed up, and Gaga and PopPop Art came by to celebrate, too. The girl had more presents than she knew what to do with, but after each gift was opened (with the help of Liam and Fin, of course,) she would gleefully squeal, "Nother one! Nother one!"

You'd never guess from the things she got what her favorite color might be, would you?

She loooves those boots!

So now she's two. She's not a baby anymore and she'll be the first to tell you. Of course, tonight after bathtime she was announcing, "Me big boy. Winny (Finny) big boy. Mommy big boy. Daddy big boy. Liam, PopPopDoug, Haha - big boy!"

I just think it's cute how much she's talking these days. We'll work on gender agreement some other time.

As she has been for the last two years, she is funny, sweet, smart, cute, fearless, independent, somewhat headstrong, and absolutely, incredibly, amazingly WONDERFUL.

Happy Birthday my sweet Greta Boo! We love you so much!

Happy Birthday HaHa!

Dave and the kids brought HaHa downtown today so we could all do a birthday lunch at Spaghetti Factory. There was much pasta worn on the clothes and ice cream eaten with hands and I think everyone had a really nice time. I know Boo was elated to have so much chocolate cake!

The kids made HaHa some great birthday cards. Fin drew a picture of one of HaHa's favorite things: getting a massage! Then he wrote Happy Birthday HaHa on the card and signed it. I think he got all of the letters from all of the words somewhere on the card, just maaaaybe not all in the right order. But he fit them in!

So, Happy Birthday, Elaine! Hope you had a great day and enjoy celebrating the rest of your birthmonth!

Happy Birthday Colin!

My sweet little nephew is ONE today! We can't wait to get to Texas this weekend to help him celebrate!

Hope you all have a wonderful day, cutie! We'll see you soon! :)

Fin's Birth Letter

Fin's arrival three years ago was... unexpected. Of course, we knew we were having a baby, we just thought we had about six more weeks before he showed up.

The experience of his arrival was terrifying, traumatic and scary - but the reality of his arrival, of his being with us, was and is just amazing. His first few months were really, really hard and even the distance of three years' time doesn't make me remember those sleepless, exhausting, uncertain moments any more fondly. But every time he smiles or gives me a hug or kiss or even just breathes softly in his sleep, I know I wouldn't change a thing because that experience gave us the sweet little guy we have right now.

So, here is the letter I wrote to Fin a few days after his birth. We'd been home from the hospital (out of the NICU) for a few days and I had been having some pretty traumatic flashbacks to his brith experience. I knew writing it down would help me have some distance from it as I tried to heal physically and mentally, and I wanted him to know how incredible I already knew he was.

If you haven't already read this letter, I should warn that it might be a good idea to have a tissue handy. I know I can't read it without crying, but then I'm his mom and I lived this. Things have calmed down since we first met, but every single day with my sweet little Fin has been incredible.

Enjoy.

*******************************************

December 24, 2005

A Letter to my Sweet Baby Finian, about your birth –

I am entering my 35th week of pregnancy when the cramps start. They are low across my back and remind me of menstrual cramps, but not too intense or severe. Backrubs from your dad and a heating pad help some. They do not worry me because I know my body is just getting ready to push you out in about 5 weeks.

A few times before bed, I notice I have started to have actual contractions – the cramp spreads from my lower back around to my abdomen and everything is tight and painful for about 45 seconds. I concentrate on relaxing and breathing through the contraction, getting ready for the non-medicated childbirth your dad and I have planned. The contractions are not regular and I know false labor is common. I am not worried. These continue on and off for about 4 days.

On Thursday I feel a lot of these “practice” contractions and am very uncomfortable. I call our midwife Donna to let her know that the contractions are getting more painful. We have an appointment scheduled to see her for the next day, and I know she’ll tell me to just rest and relax, but I think she should know that I am getting a little concerned. After all, as much as I am eager and anxious to meet you, we aren’t expecting you for another 5 weeks and 4 days.

Donna says that if I had reached 35 weeks she would tell me everything I was feeling was normal. But, since I am still a few days away from that mark, I am supposed to keep a very close eye on what I am feeling and let her know if things change. If I feel the contractions more than once every ten minutes for a full hour, or have more than 6 in an hour, or if they do not go away when I use the bathroom or elevate my feet or lie down or relax in the tub, then I am supposed to call. Otherwise, she will see me at my appointment the next afternoon.

I keep track of what is happening. I take a nap and they stop. They come back when I wake up, but stop when I walk around a bit. Finally, that night, when nothing else will make them go away, I take a bath. For the first time in the whole pregnancy, they do not stop when I am in the tub. But they also do not become more regular or more intense. I can talk through most of them and even though they last anywhere from 30 seconds to over a minute, they come at 6 minutes, then 20 minutes, then 12 minutes, then 4 minutes and so on. They never become “real labor”.

On the morning of Friday, December 16th, I get up and am visiting with your Grandpa Terry, who is in town visiting us. I am telling him how excited we are to meet you, but how there is so much stuff we still need to get done before you show up. Your furniture hasn’t been delivered, we don’t have diapers for you, but most importantly, I do not feel I am ready to push you out yet. I don’t feel like I know what I am going to do when I really start to hurt and I tell him that with all the pains and contractions I have been feeling all week, I am worried that I won’t be able to manage the pain when the time comes.

I go to the bathroom that morning and discover that I have lost my mucus plug. Your dad and I look through all the baby books we have around to see if that means something is about to happen. One book says I will probably start real labor in 24-48 hours, but another book says it could be anywhere from one to three weeks. Our appointment with Donna is in about 6 hours, so I figure we will just let her know then.

We decide to go out for breakfast, so I go to take a shower. Once in the shower, I start having some contractions in my lower back and they hurt more and more, but again, they are not coming at regular intervals. The shower feels really good on my back and my big pregnant tummy, so I just stay in there for a while. Your dad comes to check on me and I figure it is time to get out and go to breakfast. However, just as I am about to turn off the water, I feel a big gush. My water has broken!

Your dad quickly calls Donna’s office to let them know that my water has broken – a sign that labor is usually pretty close behind. I am in the shower thinking that my body will know what to do, but it is too early for you to come out yet. I am getting scared, but I just kept telling myself that God knows what He is doing and will help me figure it all out. She asks if I am having contractions and at this point they have slowed down, so she says to just come in to my appointment in a few hours, but call if anything changes.

Your dad hangs up the phone and when he walks back into the bathroom, he finds me on my hands and knees in the shower having a very big, very painful contraction. We wait to see if they are going to come every 5 or 10 minutes, but within a minute or two, I have another. He calls Donna right back and she says we have to get to the hospital immediately. They need to monitor us to make sure you are okay.

Your grandpa had been a paramedic for a few years and had delivered a few babies, so it is very nice for me to have him nearby. He’s always very calm and I know he at least is familiar with women in labor – at least he has more experience with what is happening to us than either your dad or I have. I come out of the bathroom and find him telling me that everything is going to be okay, the contractions will slow down, we’ll have plenty of time to get where we need to be and we’ll all be fine. In fact, at this point, I am still thinking we are going to go to the hospital and be told that you are still weeks away from showing up. When I walk out of the bathroom and put on my watch to start keeping track of the contractions, it is 10:40am on December 16, 2005.

Your dad is going all over the house collecting the things we might need if I really am in labor. I get down the hallway from our bedroom and am already having another contraction. Your grandpa sits next to me, rubs my lower back, and tells me everything is going to be okay – the contractions will slow down any minute now. I try to concentrate on just pushing the button on my stopwatch every time the contractions start or stop, but I notice that I am only having about a minute or so to rest in between them.

After a few minutes, your grandpa decides that things are not slowing down after all and tells your dad it is time to get me in the car and get to the hospital. Unfortunately, the hospital is 25 miles away – something everyone told us was not going to be an issue because real labor always takes a really long time. They both help me up after a contraction and before I have taken three steps, I am back on the floor having another contraction. By this time, we are all starting to get scared. I realize that I just have to make it across the living room and into the garage so we can get going. After the next contraction, I just make myself go. They have pillows in the back of the car and I lie down just as another contraction hits me.

*******************************************

The car ride to the hospital is very scary. I keep concentrating on hitting the button on my stopwatch, but at this point, I know that something is not right. I was not in labor at all, and then I was suddenly having contractions that lasted a minute each with only a minute or less in between to catch my breath. Your dad is driving us to the hospital and both of them are telling me that everything is fine.

At first, I am trying to just take lots of deep breaths when the contractions hit. Before I know it, I am saying “okay okay okay okay okay.” I am telling myself that I am going to be okay, that you are fine, that everything is going to work out. I am scared, but I can handle this. The contractions keep coming.

In a few minutes, I hear myself saying “ow ow ow ow ow.” I cannot believe how much it hurts, but I know that if I just try to stay calm everything will be fine. You will be fine, I will be fine and it will all just be a great story to tell. I am kicking the car door with my feet to try to get the pain away from me. The contractions keep coming.

I am suddenly yelling “no no no no no.” The contractions are too close. They hurt too much. Something is not right. I am scared. I am hitting the back of your dad’s seat in front of me. Your grandpa is holding my hand. I notice that he has put his seat down in front and is facing backwards to try to help me. He tells me he does not want to have to deliver you in the car.

Then I am just screaming. I try to hold a pillow to my mouth so I don’t scare your dad too much. I think that I have never heard my voice make that sound before, but that sound is all that I can feel. I can see only bright red. I can only scream.

The contractions keep coming.

Between the contractions, I try to tell your dad that I am okay. I have to scream because it hurts, but he should not be scared. I touch his neck and tell him we are fine. I hope I am right. I am still hitting the button on the stopwatch.

As the hospital comes into view, I feel you start to come out of my body. I know it is too soon and just keep telling myself not to push. I cannot push.

Your dad pulls up to the ER and your grandpa jumps out of the car to get someone to help. In between contractions I tell your dad I can feel you. I can feel that you are ready to come out. You are already in the birth canal. A contraction hits and I tell myself not to push.

A nurse runs to the car with a wheelchair and tells your dad and grandpa to run to the lobby and get the elevator. She is running with me and through the contraction I can see the back of your dad running away from me. We get into the lobby and the elevator is waiting. Your grandpa is holding my hand and I look around. Where is your dad? He had to move the car. He is not with me. I will not see him again for hours.

We get to the maternity floor and someone tells me to hop up on the bed. Between contractions, I ask “HOP???” They remind me that another contraction is coming so I move fast, get on the bed and take off my underwear so they can examine me. I see blood.

A nurse named DeeDee takes one look and says, “We have a prolapsed cord.” I know this is not good. I know this is what I felt when I said you were trying to leave my body. It is not you; it is your life support system. If this cord gets outside before you, you cannot breathe and your brain and organs can get hurt or stop working. DeeDee immediately puts her hand inside me to keep you off your own cord.

They tell me they will have to perform surgery on me to get you out. I do not care; I just want you to be safe. I hear someone say you might be breech. I tell them that you were at the last midwife visit two weeks ago. They are rubbing something cold on my stomach so they can do the surgery. It hurts. They stick my hand to give me drugs and apologize. I tell them I don’t care; I just need you to be okay. I am praying and praying, “please be okay, please be okay”. It’s all I can say or think. I am having contractions and they are telling me not to push. I say, “I am not pushing. I am not pushing. Please be okay, baby, please be okay.”

The doctor is on his way. They tell me they are giving me something so I don’t feel the contractions. I hear someone say they see poop – this is meconium. It means you are not doing well. Someone else says your heartrate is in the 90s. This also means you are not well. I am so scared. The doctor is still four minutes away. They put a mask on me and tell me to take long slow breaths. I still feel the contractions and there is nothing coming from the mask. I do not care if I have to be awake when they cut you out of me; I just need you to be okay. They are pushing on my throat so they can give me a breathing tube when the surgery starts. They are giving me a catheter and apologizing for hurting me. The only thing that can hurt me now is if you are not okay. Someone tries to tell DeeDee to move so they can examine me. I hear her say she is keeping this baby off this cord and alive. She will not move. I thank God for DeeDee.

They are arguing over whether they can start without the surgeon. They say they need to cut now to get you out. Someone says it’s time to knock me out and cut. The anesthesiologist says he will not drug me until it’s time to cut. They cannot cut until the doctor is there. I do not care if I am awake when they cut me, but I selfishly hope for drugs because I am so scared. Someone whispers to me that you are doing okay, your heartrate is back up. I do not know if I should believe him, but I pray that he’s telling the truth. Someone says the doctor is in the building, the mask is back on me and I feel them grab my skin and start to cut me open to get you out. Please be okay, my baby. The drugs kick in and I am blissfully unaware of what happens next.

*******************************************

Later, your dad and grandpa fill me in on the next twenty minutes. They are in the waiting room and nobody is telling them anything. People are running in and out of the operating room. Codes are being called. Resuscitation teams are being called. A nurse leaves the room and will not make eye contact with them. They are preparing for the worst.

Finally, the doctor comes out to talk to them. You are okay. I am okay. They still do not exhale. The doctor asks your dad if he wants to see you. He gets to meet you within minutes of your birth.

When you were born, they doctors said you were “severely depressed and completely unresponsive”. At one minute of life, you stopped breathing and they had to do a complete resuscitation. They gave you a breathing tube just like I had. Your first Apgar score was a 2.

When your dad gets to meet you for the first time, you have a tube in your throat and someone is breathing for you. With your dad watching, they remove your breathing tube and stand ready to resuscitate you again. To everyone’s amazement you are breathing on your own. Your lungs are good and strong. At ten minutes of life, you are breathing room air on your own. Your dad got to see your first real breaths of air. When they redo your Apgar test at ten minutes, you score an 8. (Your five minute Apgar score is a 5.)

They are able to determine that your brain, lungs and most organs are okay, but they are worried that your stomach and digestive system suffered the most distress from the umbilical cord being squashed. They keep you in the NICU on monitors, antibiotics and IVs until they can find out how okay you are.

The surgeon tells your dad it is the fastest surgery he has ever performed. He never even changed into scrubs before they cut me; they just threw a gown over his clothes and gave him two sets of gloves because he did not have time to scrub in.

*******************************************

When I wake from my drug haze, someone tells me you are okay. You were born at 11:51am. I remember that it was 10:40am when I got out of the shower that morning. I am amazed that you are here so quickly. Your grandpa is sitting at the foot of my bed just waiting for me to wake up. He tells me you have curly red hair like I did when I was born. I have never seen him look so relieved.

They tell me I was fully dilated when we arrived at the hospital. I went from false labor to fully ready to deliver in just over an hour. That explains the pain.

The nurse tells me in twelve years of being a maternity nurse she has seen only two prolapsed cords. It was a very scary day for all of them. They are all calling you the “Christmas miracle baby of 2005.” I still cannot believe you are here. You are 34 weeks and 4 days gestational age. The earliest they like to let babies come out is 37 weeks. You are a preemie.

It is good that I gained too much weight during the pregnancy. You are 5 lbs 13.8 oz at birth. This is small, but a very good size for a preemie. You are 18.5 inches long at birth. You are tall and skinny just like your dad.

Your dad comes into the room and I tell him we have a baby. He knows – he’s been with you in the NICU the whole time. He took pictures of you on his cell phone to show to me. They will not let you come to me because you are on monitors and they will not let me go to you because I am also hooked up to machines and heavily drugged.

They tell me I cannot see you until I can walk to the NICU on my own and I cannot walk until I’m off the drugs. I tell them to stop giving me drugs. They insist that I am in pain and keep giving me shots that knock me out. I am angry and say I just want to see my baby. They tell me that because I had a general anesthetic instead of a spinal, my recovery will be much harder and more painful. I tell them I don’t care – I can handle pain, I just need to see you. They finally quit giving me Demerol.

Finally, after twelve hours, my head is clear enough that I can walk. At midnight, I finally get to see you and touch you. They will not let me hold you yet. You are so small and have so many wires and tubes attached to you. But you are here, you are alive and you are more amazing and beautiful than I ever could have hoped.

The next day they let me hold you to give you your first bottle. We wanted to give you only breast milk, but they tell me that you are too small to nurse right now. The lactation consultant warns us that because you are a preemie, it might be a month or more before you are strong enough to get a good latch and really eat from the breast. They also tell us you are tongue tied, which means your tongue does not stick out over your bottom gums like it should. This will also make breastfeeding harder. Again, I tell them I do not care. I know that breast milk is the best thing for you, especially as a preemie, so I insist on learning how to pump right away. After that first bottle, every time you eat you have a few drops of colostrum from me, whatever I can get out.

Within two days, my milk has come in and you are eating breast milk exclusively from a bottle. We are practicing putting you to the breast a few minutes at a time. They are amazed at how strong you are and how you are not acting sick and weak like a preemie should. On the third morning, they tell us they are going to start treating you like a healthy baby instead of a sick baby. You finally get to stay in our room a few hours at a time, though they keep a scary looking IV in your head (you were strong enough to pull the one out of your hand twice) just in case you get weaker. You never do.

They insist on examining you and weighing you before every feeding. I tell them you are actually latching on and breast feeding on your own, though not for very long. They do not believe me and send someone to watch what we are doing. You have amazed them again. You get tired quickly, but your instincts are strong and true. You are breastfeeding on your own by your fourth day of life – something they said you couldn’t do for several weeks, if ever.

Finally, when you are five days old, they tell us we all get to go home together. Your dad and I have not been able to stop staring at you since we first met you and we are amazed every day that you really are here. We have decided that you have your dad’s lips and chin (with his cute little chin dimple) and my nose. I do not know where these beautiful eyes came from, but I swear I can fall into them forever.

You really are healthy and strong and beautiful. And we love you so much more than we ever thought it would be possible to love another human being. I hope you always, always know how very much we love you. I have a feeling words will never be enough to convey how much this is true.

Merry Christmas, my sweet angel baby. With every breath, I thank God for letting you be here and I know I must have done something very good in my life to deserve to have you in it.

Love,
-Mom-

Happy First Birthday Sweet Greta Boo!

I have so much I want to tell you about your first year and how wonderful and amazing and sweet and cute and funny you are. I'm working on a letter to capture some of those moments, but you hit a fun new milestone today that I thought was worth mentioning even before the letter is done.

You took your first steps today!

You've been doing tons and tons of finger walking for a few weeks now, and in the past few days or so, you've been trying to stand on your own, but you still would sit down a few seconds after realizing you weren't holding on to anything.

But today you took a few steps here and there during your birthday party! I don't think you ever went more than 3 or 4 steps, but you were so proud of yourself. We're all so proud of you, too!

By the end of the evening, you were pulling up using only one finger and then standing on your own for 15-20 seconds at a time. I have a feeling you'll be running before we know it.

Happy Birthday, my sweet baby girl. Mommy and Daddy (and Finny) love you soooo much!

Greta's Birth Letter

She's one. It's amazing. She's amazing. I thought this would be an appropriate day to recount the experience of her birth.

The letter I wrote her about it last year is long, but, well... it was a big day for both of us. I figured she'd like the details some day.

Enjoy.

******************************

13 December 2007

A Letter to My Sweet Baby Greta About Your Birth –

When I first found out I was pregnant, I instantly knew we’d be having a daughter and I was so excited but also a little scared. Your brother’s arrival had been terrifying and I didn’t quite know what to expect this time around.

The first half of our pregnancy was pretty uneventful – I was tired and queasy, but that was not at all uncommon. By the middle of the pregnancy, however, you were starting to show signs of being up to your big brother’s antics in the womb. Just like Fin, you and my body had teamed up to start causing a lot of contractions very early on. Luckily, this time we knew to take the contractions seriously and take precautions to make sure you didn’t arrive too early like Fin did.

We had shopped around for a doctor who would let us have a natural, drug-free birth this time after having had Fin by Caesarian section and found a doctor your dad and I both really liked and trusted. As much as we all wanted to go the non-medical route for your delivery, we knew we’d have to take some medical precautions and interventions to make sure you stayed in full-term and were healthy.

At 24 weeks, I was having so many contractions that the doctor wanted me to go to the hospital to be monitored. We ended up having to have two doses of drugs to get things to calm down and were eventually sent home. Two weeks later, at my monthly doctor’s appointment, we decided it was time to start the active process of keeping you inside. I was given a prescription for drugs to take at home when the contractions started up again and I was started on weekly hormone shots as well. We also got sent a machine to monitor my contractions every day, so for an hour every morning and every evening, I had to lie very still while attached to a machine so we could keep tabs on what you were doing in there. If things were too active, I had to take more drugs and do a bunch of things to try to get the contractions to stop – and then spend at least another hour on the machine. From 27 weeks on, I was talking to the nurses at least twice a day, and taking drugs to stop the contractions several times a week. At 28 weeks, despite our efforts to keep the contractions calm, my cervix was starting to dilate, which was not the news we wanted to hear. I was officially put on bedrest until at least 36 weeks.

After two weeks of bedrest, my cervix was even more dilated so I started having to take the drugs every 4 hours all day long to keep the contractions under control. I even had to wake up during the night to take them. And with the additional dilation, our doctor decided we needed to have a steroid shot to mature your lungs just in case you decided to show up early. The combination of the drugs to stop the contractions, the weekly hormone shots and the steroid shot for your lungs caused a terrible migraine headache that lasted six days. That was the least fun part of the entire pregnancy, but I knew it would all be worth it when you came out healthy and full-term. We managed the rest of the pregnancy with the drugs, but also with weekly acupuncture visits, chiropractic adjustments and pregnancy massage.

For the next several weeks, we seemed to have things under control. I was still having contractions every day and occasionally having to do extra monitoring sessions to get them under control, but I was not getting more dilated and you seemed happy to stay inside me for a while longer.

Finally, after 9 weeks of hormone shots, 8 weeks of daily contraction monitoring and 7 weeks of bedrest, I was allowed to be a “normal” pregnant woman again. We were officially 36 weeks along and while we still wanted you to stay in a few more weeks, we knew you’d be healthy and okay if you decided to show up. I had been telling you all along that you just had to stay in until Thanksgiving and then you were welcome to come out.

The day before Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving Day itself, I was having a lot of contractions and we all thought you’d be making an appearance very soon. However, things never really picked up, the contractions didn’t become regular enough to time and you decided to stay put. The Tuesday after Thanksgiving, we had another doctor’s appointment and learned that I was indeed dilating more (3cm, 80% effaced) and that you could come any day or still decide to stay put for a few more weeks. At this point, your dad and I were both very eager and excited to meet you, but also knew that every day you stayed inside was a day you could grow bigger and stronger before meeting the world.


The morning of that doctor’s visit, I was having more contractions but still not enough to time or to call true labor, but I knew things were starting to pick up. I decided to have lunch with a friend at the mall and walk around a bit to see if labor would start on its own. I didn’t start having more regular contractions, but I did have a bit of bloody show and I knew that losing my mucus plug was an early sign of labor. I was very excited to think I’d be meeting you in just a few days!

That night, things went pretty much as usual. I had some stronger contractions, but just like they had been for the last few days. We went to bed knowing you may be here in a few days or another week.

At about 2:30am your big brother Fin woke up and decided he needed some Mommy time. He wasn’t fussy or crying, he was just awake and wanting to cuddle with Mommy. We snuggled and talked and giggled in bed for a couple of hours and he finally fell asleep again at about 4:45am. Once he was asleep, I got up to use the bathroom and tried to go back to sleep myself.
I was lying in bed just dozing off when I suddenly felt a sharp pinch. I thought “Ow – that’s weird” and then felt a POP! I got up and hurried back to the bathroom and sure enough – GUSH – my water had broken! It was 4:55am on Tuesday, November 28, 2007 and I knew we’d be meeting our little girl in a few hours!

I woke up your dad and whispered to him that my water had broken. I wasn’t feeling contractions yet and knew they could take a while to start, but with your brother they had started right away and been very close together. I thought you’d give us a little more time, so I told your dad to go back to sleep and tried to lay back down myself to get some rest since I’d already been awake for a few hours with Fin. Of course, by this time I was too excited to sleep so I just tried to rest. Within a few minutes the contractions started and I began timing them. They were 5 minutes apart, but not too painful so I just waited and talked to you and to my body about how we were going to do this together and how excited I was to finally meet you.
I sent an email to work to let them know I would not be on that morning’s conference call and called our doula Kimberly about an hour after my water broke. She suggested going back to sleep also, but I knew that was going to be impossible. I called your grandpa Terry and aunt Kiza in Texas to let them know you were on your way and called both of your grandmothers who live here in town to let them know it was time. Your HaHa was going to be with Finny while we went to the hospital and your GaGa was going to come with us to help welcome you to the world. After all these phone calls, I finally called Kimberly back to let her know that the contractions were getting more intense and it was time for her to come over. I decided to take a shower to help deal with the contractions while we waited for Kimberly, HaHa and GaGa to get to our house.

By about 7am everyone had arrived. Fin was still asleep, your dad and Kimberly were helping me through the contractions using the hypnobirth relaxation techniques we’d been practicing, and GaGa and HaHa were bustling about to make sure everything was ready to go when we needed to get to the hospital. Fin suddenly woke up in the other room and was not happy to find himself alone, so your dad and I crawled back into bed with Fin to let him know that his little sister Baby Greta was finally on her way. He’d been talking to you and giving you kisses in my belly for months. He kept asking you to come out and play with him and he was very excited to learn that he was finally going to get to meet you.

We ended up sitting in the bed relaxing through the contractions for a while. Your dad brought me snacks and Kimberly massaged my feet while GaGa sat and worried about us (it’s what she does…). Finally, I told your dad I needed him to come sit behind me, and he propped himself up on pillows so I could lean against him as we breathed and relaxed through the contractions that were bringing you closer and closer to us. Fin eventually crawled back in bed with us and we spent a few last minutes as our family of just three celebrating that were about to grow to a loving family of four.

After a while, the contractions were getting harder to just relax and breathe through, so I thought walking around would help. As I moved off the bed I suddenly felt the need to use the bathroom again. Kimberly asked if I had already gone a few times that morning and I had, so we both knew this was a clear sign that you were moving lower. Our time at home was almost done.

I went into the bathroom and had a contraction so strong that I was on my knees holding on to the towel rod to get through it. As I walked out of the bathroom, both your dad and Kimberly were standing and saying it was time to go to the hospital. I agreed just as another contraction hit, and I was on my knees leaning over the bed. I mentioned that I might throw up (another sign that you were getting close), and Kimberly grabbed the trash can from the bathroom to bring in the car just in case.

We made it through the house to the garage while everyone was deciding who was going in which car. Kimberly asked if I wanted her in the car with us or if she should take her own, and I knew I’d need her with us to get through the 10 minute ride to the hospital. HaHa brought Finny outside so I could kiss him goodbye and remind him not to be scared and that he’d be meeting his little sister soon. GaGa was trying to clean out our car so Kimberly could get in the backseat and ride with us, and I realized your dad had placed the bikes in the garage so that I couldn’t open the car door. He had to move the car into the driveway so we could get in, and then we realized that Kimberly had parked her car partially blocking the driveway and we couldn’t get out.

There were a few moments of madness as your dad pulled our car out, Kimberly moved her car, HaHa and Fin said goodbye to everyone, and GaGa made sure she knew her way to the hospital – and all this time I was standing in the middle of the front yard by myself having contractions one on top of the other with nothing to lean on or hold on to and trying not to get too panicked about how quickly things had changed from calm and quiet to too much hustle and bustle.

We finally got in the car and left for the hospital at 8:30am. The contractions were coming hard and fast, and before we had even gone two blocks, I was telling your dad and Kimberly that I needed to PUSH. I felt the urge to push you out so strong that I was worried we were not going to make it to the hospital. Kimberly pointed out that it was too cold to let you be born in the car on the freeway, so if we weren’t going to make it to the hospital, we’d better get back home. Your dad did a quick U-turn, and Kimberly asked me if I could feel your head. I laid the seat all the way down and checked and was very relieved to feel absolutely nothing yet.

Once the seat was reclined and the immediate pressure was off my cervix, the need to push decreased. Keeping my hand down there just in case you decided to come out, I told your dad we could make it to the hospital, I wasn’t going to push, but we had to get there FAST. He did another U-turn and off we went.

During the car ride to the hospital, the contractions were very, very strong, and I could no longer just breathe through them. I knew I couldn’t push yet so instead I yelled. With each contraction, my voice rose as the intensity increased, “OhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-kay. Okay, okay, okay.” I had to keep telling myself and you that we were going to be okay, we were going to make it to the hospital and you were going to come out just perfect. Between contractions, we worked on finding a way to call the doctor and tell her we were on our way. We hadn’t called from the house because things weren’t moving so quickly, and once we got in the car, we realized that your dad’s cell phone barely had enough battery power to make the call and my cell phone was in my purse – under the seat. Your dad was eventually able to grab my purse for Kimberly to make the call, and we knew Dr. Brass would be on her way soon.

We arrived at the hospital and a nurse ran out to meet us with a wheelchair. I knew I was going to have to move my hand to get out of the car, but I was terrified. During the contractions, I had felt quite a bit of fluid continuing to gush out of me. I knew when I moved my hand I’d have to see if it was blood or just amniotic fluid. When your brother was born the blood during the contractions was the first sign that something was wrong and I was so scared that I would see that again. But with your dad, Kimberly and the nurse all waiting for me to get out of the car, I just took a deep breath and pulled my hand away. Everything was clear, so I knew we were both still doing just fine. I moved into the wheelchair and the contractions continued one on top of the other as they pushed me into the hospital.

As they wheeled me quickly to Labor & Delivery, I kept yelling through the contractions and feeling gush after gush of fluid come out. Kimberly later told me we left a trail of fluid from the car to the delivery room. The nurses kept asking who our doctor was, if you were my first baby, when my water broke, etc. When they learned I was having a VBAC and that our doctor was not there yet, they went into a bit of panic and started paging any OB in the hospital and any anesthesiologist to come to us just in case something went wrong and we needed emergency surgery, though I knew all of that would be unnecessary.

We got into our room and I moved to the bed so the nurses could see how close you were to coming out. As we expected, I was completely dilated and ready to push. I asked what time it was again between contractions and it was 8:51am. I had been in labor for four hours and we knew you were only a short time away from joining us.

While we were getting situated in the hospital room, I realized that there were about 20 various hospital staff bustling around the room to make sure we were ready if you came before our doctor arrived. They were getting me hooked up to monitors, trying to take my blood pressure and give me an IV all while I was having very strong contractions and continuing to yell “OhhHHHHHHHHHHH-kay” through them all. They blew through two veins trying to get the IV in and I even stopped in the middle of one contraction to ask them to please wait until the contraction was over before sticking me with another needle.

In the very short pauses between contractions, I talked to your dad and Kimberly and they fed me ice chips. My yelling through the contractions varied between “Okay” and a few “Woooo-hoooo!”s as I got more excited that you were on your way. I even sang a bit to your dad between contractions because our little family was growing and we were about to have a daughter.

Finally, after about 20 minutes Dr. Brass arrived at the hospital. She had been pulled over by a police officer for speeding on her way to meet us, but luckily he believed her when she said she had a patient in labor and did not give her a ticket. She watched through a few contractions and felt where you were and told me it was time to push you out. Your dad, Kimberly and a couple of the nurses in the room helped get me into a position to push and then… I pushed.

Someone mentioned they could see your head and as I opened my eyes, I saw that your dad had seen you. I asked if it looked cool or gross and he said “cool” so I asked for a mirror so I could watch you come out, too. The nurses quickly wheeled a mirror so I could see and I pushed again. Sure enough, I could see the top of your little head as you came out of me! It was very cool (but also kind of gross.)

I continued pushing for a few minutes, with the doctor and nurses telling me when to hold my breath, push, and breathe again. I thought it was funny when they would tell me to take another deep breath because they didn’t know we had been practicing hypnobirthing and yoga breathing and I was never actually out of breath yet when they would tell me to breathe again. As we got closer, the doctor eventually decided you needed a little extra oxygen, so they gave me an oxygen mask and I really worked on getting you out. Two more pushes and I felt the burning sensation of your head actually coming in to the world. I opened my eyes just in time to see your whole head come out – you had such sweet round little cheeks! Dr. Brass did a quick suction of your mouth and nose and I gave one more push and your whole tiny little body just slid right out.

And there you were – perfect and healthy in every way. Everything we had done to keep you in long enough and make sure you had time to grow big and strong had paid off. You were finally here! You were born at 9:31am on Wednesday, November 28, 2007 and weighed 7lbs, 3.3oz and were 20.5 inches long. Your Apgar score was a 9 both times.

Dr. Brass knew we wanted to keep you close right away, so they placed you on my chest immediately and put a blanket over us to keep you warm. Your dad and I just kissed you and stared at you and kissed each other in amazement. You stared back and after a few minutes you gave a little cry to let us all know your lungs were good and strong. Dr. Brass soon said that your umbilical cord had stopped pulsing and asked if your dad wanted to cut the cord. He was a little unsure but did it anyway.

I got to hold you and cuddle with you for a while, then your dad got to hold and cuddle with you while I got stitched up and cleaned up a bit. You were even ready to try to nurse pretty quickly and were great at latching on from the very start. Once all the cleaning and initial bonding was done, Kimberly asked if we were ready for visitors and we said yes. Someone went and got your GaGa from the waiting room and the stream of people who love you and want to hold you and kiss you began.

We eventually moved into a room for recovery and HaHa brought your big brother Fin to meet you. He had picked out a special “Happy Birthday” balloon as a gift to you and as soon as he was lifted into my bed to meet you, the first thing he said was “Tickle Baby Greta” as he reached out to you. Like everyone else, he gave you lots of hugs and kisses and was very happy to meet you.
We only had to stay in the hospital one night and you were never more than a few inches away from us except for the one time they had to take you to be weighed after your middle of the night feeding. Otherwise, you have been within reach of a parent or grandparent every single moment of your life, which is so nice and different from the experience of your brother being in the NICU for so many days.

We came home and we have discovered that you are a good nurser, a good sleeper and almost never cry or complain unless you’re cold and getting your diaper changed. Your big brother just wants to show you everything he knows and play with you all day long and doesn’t recognize that you’re still too little for most of the toys he wants to share with you.

We are very, very blessed to have you as our daughter. Even though you haven’t done much more than eat, sleep and stare at us over the last two weeks, we all agree that you are so beautiful, so sweet and so wonderful. Thank you for joining our family and making our home complete. We love you sweet baby girl.

Love,
Mommy

Happy Birthday HaHa!

Today is my mother-in-law's 60th birthday, so Happy Birthday HaHa (Elaine)! I hope it's a great day for you!

This morning Dave and Fin sat down to make HaHa a birthday card. They pulled out some paper and crayons, sat down at Fin's art table and went to work. I was a few feet away putting away laundry and overheard the following conversation:

Dave: "Nice drawing. What is that? It looks like a heart."
Fin: "No, a butt."
D (laughing): "Okay. And what is this part here?"
F: "A butt face!"

I swear, I really, really, really don't think he's EVER heard the phrase "butt face" anywhere. I think he drew the butt and then tried to put a face on it. But the conversation continued...

D: "What's this part here that's coming out of the butt face?"
F (proudly): "A POOPY!"

Yeah, the potty training is going really well lately. LOL. And of course, poopy is a common topic of conversation around our house, so I'm not surprised it got drawn.

After that exchange, Dave asked if he could label the things in the drawing so HaHa would know what everything was. Fin said sure, so HaHa's birthday card had arrows pointing to a butt, a butt face and a poopy. And Greta did a little scribble for her, too.

I hope turing 60 is this special for all of us!