Labor of Love

Babies in general are a labor of love. Being pregnant isn't the easiest thing in the world to do. For some people us, like myself, it down right sucks. This pregnancy was so hard.  I wasn't sure I was even going to survive the physical pain at moments, but when I look in to The Littlest One's face, I can barely remember any of it already.
Several times, she and I have been lying together in the quiet of the night, and I felt like there should be choir singers in long church robes, singing soul full hymns of praise while a soft white light encases her because to me, she is such a miracle and every moment with her is amazing.  It feels surreal sometimes, to have a tiny baby again.  I see such beauty in all of her potential.  I love every face, every stretch, and every little noise she makes.  Little babies are bliss and happiness, in tiny little packages.
I realize that life wont always be like this. I know she will be older and sassier, much like her big sisters, but I'm really enjoying these times.  I see the joy that makes everything worth it. She is beautiful.  She is wonderful.  She is what life is all about; love.
I love all of my girls.  I love them dearly.  No matter how much they put us through, physical, mental, or emotional, I know that they are worth the pain they bring, as the joy and love that accompanies them far outweighs it.
Happy Mother's Day to all of the moms out there who have endured and continue to endure their own labors of love each and every day.

A Funny Little Note, She Called It

Yesterday, I had a one week appointment at my OB's office to have the staples removed.  That isn't really fun, and they put a ton in there, more than 20, but in all honesty, when you been through all I have been through, its kind of a cake walk.
So, My Husband, The Littlest One, and I all loaded up for my appointment, as I am still being chauffeured, and she needs to be close to the milk source at all times.
The appointment started out pretty normally, but it quickly took a turn for the bizarre.  As my Nurse Practitiorer took out her folder with all my notes, she said she had "a funny side note" for us.  I would venture that it is probably just me, and my medical luck, that has things like this said to them, because "funny side notes" about your medical history probably really aren't funny.
She said that when the Drs, either the surgeon or my OB, who were working together, opened me up, one of them noticed a piece of foreign tissue.

I'll stop there and let you process that for a moment.

Not knowing what it was, and only that it didn't belong, they sent it off to pathology to be processed.
That didn't sound good and made me a little anxious.  I was ready to get to the funny.
Then, when she told me what it was, I wasn't ready for funny after all.
When the results came back, they found normal tissue, and in that was either mesh or gauze.
No.  Seriously.
Somebody left something in me.
Now, if you have ever heard my entire birth story from The Big Little One (aka The Middle One), you know I had one of the worst birth experience ever.  It was horrible.  Had I been at a civilian hospital, my actions afterward would have likely involved consulting an attorney.
As a direct result of decisions made there, I have had to have all of these extra surgeries, and will always have something extra in me keeping my body together.
Now, somewhere, someone left something in me.  My last surgery to attempt a repair was about 3 years ago.  That means that piece of what ever it was had been floating around for that long.
Awesome.  Just awesome.
Not so sure if that falls in to the "Funny Side Note" category to me or not, but it definitely is great fit into my already screwed up birth story.  I guess I should just be thankful for the permanent ounce of weight loss the Dr's gave me, and move on knowing there will be one less lump hanging around on my belly.

Today Is Not The Day

I'm doing exactly what I told myself I wouldn't do by blogging this.  I told myself I would let it go, but of course, that isn't my strong suit.
Today, my newest love, The Littlest One, is one week old.  We have her first post hospital check up, and one for me too.  We get to see her be weighed, and checked out, and I love the reassurance that comes with it.  I want to enjoy every moment of her, as she is our last for sure, something I am quite at peace with and even happy about now.  I want this to be our time, our bonding time as a family.  I want nothing but happy and love right now.
So, why someone would take it upon themselves to try to interject negative, non involved drama into my life right now, I don't know.  I am going to ignore it for now.  Other than this blog, my plan is to let it roll for a few days.  The Littlest One is giving us plenty of poop of her own, and I really don't need any from anyone else.
So, please, if you have a beef with me, if you seem to think this is the time to bear your soul to me about some way you feel, don't.  While I want to be open and have people be able to come to me, please, take a moment to consider that exactly one week ago, I had two major surgeries, one of which was incredibly more traumatic to my body and that I am healing from that, and more importantly, that I am a new mom all over again.  Give me a moment.  I'll let you know when I am ready to deal with the poop that comes from outside my home again, and then I will do so gladly.

Until then, peace and love for all, especially my very new, adjusting family.

Our Big Littlest News

It has been a while since I have been on here, for good reason.  Just about a week ago, I went into the hospital, and we had a beautiful baby girl.  The Littlest One arrived.  I am still healing.  The process will take a while.  There was a big surgery.  It is a lot to tell about, and in time, I'm sure I will blog about all of it, but for now, I just wanted to share with you all the arrival of our very wonderful, healthy, beautiful baby girl.

In The Middle

I took The Girls to the park today, and as The Little One ran behind The Big One, I saw how much they look alike, pony tails swinging, and I could Just picture The Littlest One following behind in a few years. The Little One was following her big sister, as usual, trying to do whatever The Big One was doing. It really made me wonder what it will be like when The Little One becomes The Middle One.
Middle children are special. They have their own unique sets of challenges and needs. They don't get to be the first to do things, and they aren't the baby.  They have to carve out their own place in this world.
I worry about The Little One, and what will happen when she isn't the baby.  While she has a big personality, I worry and want to make sure she doesn't get lost in the shuffle.
She is a fantastic child.  I expect her to be quite the comedian as she gets older.  I also expect her to be the trouble maker, with some devious plot in the works at all times.
In a way, I suppose that I should consider her the lucky one.  She gets to be both an older sister, and a younger sister.  She gets to have a big sister to help her along her way, and have someone to look to when she just can't come to mom.  She also gets to be a big sister for someone else, which is a very cool thing.
I'm not sure where she will go in her new role, but I truly hope she takes it somewhere fantastic.  I hope she makes the best out of her new adjustment, and I promise to do my best as her mom to see that she knows how special she is, always.

From Two to Three

Running a moms group, I get to hear lots of birth stories, and meet many many mothers and pregnant moms to be.  Perhaps because I had such a terrible experience last time around, I am very aware of pregnant moms, and not telling them my birth story, or any horror story about being pregnant for that matter.  I don't think that pregnant women need the extra stress of worrying about what happened to anyone else.  Pregnancy is stressful enough.  I think sometimes people forget that, though.

In my case, I can't tell you how many times I have heard how hard it is to go from two to three children in the last few months, even from very good friends.  Apparently, three is that magic number where you are suddenly out numbered as a parent, and the world becomes totally overwhelming.  Three is supposedly more stressful than just about any other number, it is worse than four or five.  This is the make it or break it point, where you go from a normal family, to a big family.

Maybe I am a moron for not being concerned, but I'm not, really.  At least, no more concerned than when I went from one to two.  It may be the fact that The Big One is so much older, she is almost 8 now, that I don't have to worry as much.  She is capable of not only taking care of herself, with in reason, but helping out with her younger sister.  The Big One can make a sandwich, get a bowl of cereal, a granola bar, a cup of milk, or what ever they need.  She and The Little One go out to play in the back yard, and she watches her, at least somewhat.  They sit on the couch together and play on the Wii for as long as I will let them, and the same for the computer.  While it isn't her job to take care of her sister, and I would never totally rely on her, I know she can be a great help to me, and really can do a lot.  For that matter, at 4, The Little One can do a lot for herself, too.  While I do have to remind her to wipe her tush still, I don't have to go to the bathroom with her.  She can dress herself, if she is so inclined on any given day.  She will even play on the computer by herself for a long time, if I log her onto a good website.  If I put juice boxes and things at her disposal, she can get them out of the fridge, too.  There is a lot of self sufficiency, if she will just do it.  So, while I certainly will have three children, I won't have three small children.  I will have two children who don't need constant attention, and only one who does.  I will have an older child who will be able to help out, and will even enjoy some of the things that have to be done while caring for either the baby or The Little One.  Yes, My Husband and I will be outnumbered with there being more children than parents, but I guess, as much as he is gone, I live my life that way, anyway.  My concern isn't that there will be three, but that I will be alone with a new baby very soon.  That scares me far more than how many of them there are.

I kind of feel like we will settle in to three pretty easily.  I know there will be challenges, but that is to be expected with every new child.  Each new life is different, and none of them come with instructions for their particular model.  You always have to figure things out as you go.  This addition will be the same.  WE will figure it out.  We will all adjust.  It may not be easy, and at times I may feel like they are going to get the best of me, but it won't last.  Somehow, three just feels right to me, like this is how life is supposed to be.
I am no fool.  I am ready for the challenges, but I welcome them instead of fearing them.  We will be better than alright.  I think our family of 5 is going to be great.

The Final Appointment ReCap

Today was my last normal OB appointment before the baby comes.  My Dr and I discussed everything, and she "poked around" quite a bit, trying to see if there could be any other complications before we get in there.  We had a nice long chat.  It is a little difficult, because I have two Drs, with two totally different specialties, doing two totally different surgeries, and we need to be able to meet the needs of both.  AS far as my OB is concerned, though, it should be pretty simple for her.  The general surgeon will open and close.  As she told me today, her only concern is my uterus, and what is in it.  Everything else will be up to the other Dr.

The biggest concern for her today was surprisingly anesthesia.  She isn't sure they can do anything adequately, except knock me out.  Before she examined me, she talked about spinal anesthesia, and I explained that I received a spinal during my last c-section, and that it started to wear off.  So, I would prefer an epidural.  As soon as she looked at my scar, she said she wasn't surprised that it wore off.  The height of the scar is too high for pretty much any spinal anesthesia, and that there would have been problems, some thing that was argued before the butchers at Balboa ended up doing what was, according to the anesthesiologist himself, physically easier for him to do.  My OB said that when I speak to anesthesia, they may have concerns, and that they may end up needing to give me general anesthesia.  I hope not.  My hope is for the epidural, and if need be, then they can knock me out after the baby comes.  I don't do well with general anesthesia, though.  I have low normal blood pressure (shocking for a fat girl, but true), and I think that may be part of why I don't wake up well.  I also get really sick from it.  So, if we can possibly avoid that, I want to, but I also don't want to repeat the terror of my last c-section, laying there realizing that I was starting to get feeling back while people are actually cutting on me.

I have faith, though, that this time, the Dr.s there will have my best interests in mind, and not the ease of the procedure, when they make decisions.  I also intend to push for what I want, as long as it is safe, at each step of the process.  That's all I can do.  Now, we wait for Thursday.  I have one more monitoring appointment on Tuesday, which is pretty much nothing, and then we will have her Thursday morning.
I'm excited, and nervous.  I ready or at least as ready as I can be mentally and emotionally.  Ready to start the next chapter of our lives.