Baby pic

Today's Cereal: Special K
Current Mood: Got a headache


Here's my girl! Despite her vicious pooping habit, I think she's pretty sweet. I love it when I'm holding her on my shoulder and she decides she's hungry... and turns her face to me and starts sucking on my cheek or neck. Ah, little baby kisses!

Shit.

Today's Cereal: Honey Bunches of Oats with Peaches
Current Mood: Annoyed

I know I said I would try not to post stories about baby poop and stuff, but this one has me traumatized.

So I was changing the Wee One's diaper the other day--not a big thing anymore since she goes through, like, 30 a day. Needless to say, I've dropped my guard about doing this. With a little boy, you always have to be ready and waiting to get peed on the minute the diaper comes off. The Girl has not had this problem, and so I'm pretty relaxed about changing her. WAS pretty relaxed, I should say.

Like I said, I ws changing the Wee One's diaper. I took the old one off, and turned my head to grab a new one, when I heard this terrible sound that I can only describe as the sound the ketchup bottle makes when you squeeze it hard. You KNOW the sound. Yes, the Girl had let loose her bowels with all the force of a shotgun. There was poop EVERYWHERE. Maybe you are not familiar with the consistency of newborn poo, but it is for the most part a glorified liquid. So yeah, EVERYWHERE. All across the changing table, down the side, all over the carpet and wall.

This was bad enough, but it doesn't end here. I screamed and screamed, and Kitt came running (thanks for helping me, sweetie!) While we are trying to SOP UP this mess, what happens? She pees all over. Great, now she's swimming in a puddle of that, too. At this point I give up trying to salvage her cleanliness and the outfit she's wearing. They are both lost causes; she's getting a bath. So then while I was trying to take her clothes off, guess what?

She poos AGAIN.

I am not kidding.

Fortunately the second time it was not projectile poo, but STILL. How could something that barely weighs 9 pounds have SO MUCH DAMN POO IN HER!?

This might be funny if it were an isolated incident, but it happened again last night, in the middle of the night. The best part? I was attempting to wipe her at the time, so it was all over my hand. Yum, I know. I had to scream for Kitt 3 times before he woke up to come and help me. And of course, in my sleep-deprived and emotionally fragile state, I am CONVINCED that she is doing it on purpose.

So now everytime I change her diaper, I am in constant fight-or-flight mode. It is stressful, to say the least.

*whine*

Today's Cereal: Corn Chex
Current Mood: Eff you

SO. DAMN. TIRED.

Harry

Today's Cereal: Raisin Bran
Current Mood: Tiiiiired

So I finished my Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince yesterday. I spent the entire afternoon bawling like some post-partum freak because of it. It's hard to nurse a baby when you are shaking with sobs. Yup, if effected me that much.

I'd love to talk about it, give my opinions and thoughts on it, but I don't want to spoil the story for anyone. (I remember how bad it sucked when someone spoiled Sixth Sense for me. Man was I pissed!) Let me just say that I was COMPLETELY SURPRISED at who the Half-Blood Prince ended up being; though now in hindsight it was fairly obvious. And I have a theory about who R.A.B. is...

I love my job

Today's Cereal: Golden Grahams & Multi-Grain Cheerios
Current Mood: Grateful

I have mentioned before that I work as a confidential intermediary for an adoption agency. Most people unfamiliar with the adoption world have no idea what that means-- basically, I help reunite adopted persons with their birth families. It is such an awesome job because I get to use skills that I've learned doing one of my greatest loves in the world-- genealogy. It is also awesome because I get to be involved in the life-altering, powerful moment of such a reunion. It can also be the scariest job in the world, too. I live in dread of the day when I have to go back to my client and say, "Sorry, your birthmother doesn't want to meet you." I have shed more tears over my job than I did when my grandparents died. I throw my whole heart into each reunion, and pray and pray and pray that they turn out right. I rest assured that they all turn out "how they are supposed to"; but I am glad that "how they are supposed to" has so far meant "good".

I am in the middle of putting together the year-end report for my reunion program, and I was asked to include in it quotes from some of my clients about the program. So I have been poring over e-mails I've received in the last year, looking for something that I can include in my report. I came across an e-mail from a client, an adoptee, that I had almost forgotten about, and I cried and cried as I re-read it. It was so cool, I thought I might share some of it with you. (names have been omitted, of course.):

"I don't know if I told you this part of the story -- or if she did. [My birthmother] nearly died this summer. Complications from radiation used to treat cancer had given her a terrible disorder of the colon. She began to lose weight and have trouble getting through her workday. One day, she felt awful and went home a little early, climbed into bed... and just didn't get out. Her niece found her a day or so later. Her kidneys had begun to fail. They admitted her to the hospital, and after surgery she recovered slowly. First in the hospital, then in a nursing home, then finally back in her own home. During her health crisis, her brother came to visit. She was back at home by then and told him about a phone call she'd had a day or two earlier:

A friend of hers had given birth to twins in her early twenties and had given the babies up for adoption. Recently, one of the twin girls had come to her birth mother's house to meet her. It had been a very positive experience, the friend had told her. [My birthmother] explained to her brother that she thought she could never do that -- meet her daughter. "Why not?", he asked her. She replied that she felt she had relinquished the right to know me long ago. Her view was that, when she gave me for adoption, she in effect had made a lasting promise never to know who I was or be involved in my life. It was just part of the deal. [Her brother] encouraged her to think differently. He told her he thought that meeting her daughter, if it ever happened, would probably be wonderful for her. After their talk, [my birthmother] says she told him, "Well, maybe you're right. I might be able to do that."

Becky, your letter arrived the day after this conversation took place.

I do believe in angels, and in the concept I think I may have told you about... perfection in timing. [My birthmother's] gift to me -- her willingness to meet me after 44 years of separation -- is profound. Her healing is a gift from God to both of us. I so easily could have missed the chance to know her. But thanks to divine grace, and the exact timing of your letter, along with your compassionate counseling, she is with me now. Every life makes a difference, and I'm thankful for your life, too, Becky. You can see that you are one of the helping angels in our story."

Aside from being completely humbled by this e-mail, and filled with joy that the reunion turned out and that I was able to help in my small way, I was also blown away by what she said. I had NOT known this story. I had no idea all this was happening. All I knew was that for some reason, I couldn't get a hold of this birthmother by phone no matter how many times I tried. And so I finally sent a letter explaining that her birthdaughter was hoping to open the lines of communication between them. Apparently, this was "how it was supposed to turn out".

Stuff like this happens to me ALL. THE. TIME. as I am doing reunions. And because of it, I've learned to trust the "gut feelings" I get as I am doing each case. I've learned how to wait until the time feels right to make that first call. And I've learned that no matter what *I* think about how a reunion should go, there's always a "higher plan".

I read this e-mail, and I have to ask myself how people can possibly not believe in God.

I am so grateful to Him for the help I get with each case. I realize that I am mucking around in deep, DEEP parts of other people's lives, and I am just so grateful that He keeps me from messing them up. May it always be so.

I have another case coming up really soon...

Little update

Today's cereal: Multi-Grain Cheerios
Current mood: Really wishing my husband would go to the Artic Circle and get me that Reeses Pieces shake they are advertising on their marquee.

Well, Baby Robin is a week old today. It's been a tough week, what with the constant crying that I can only partially explain. My poor hubby has gotten through this with flying colors, however. He's a good guy, and I'll fight anyone who wants to say differently. Hey, don't eff with the post-partum woman. Baby's doing great, getting a fat little tummy, and sleeping all the freakin' time. Except at night. Of course. My milk-makers are doing better, thanks wholly to the Wonderful Shawna who had to show me how to breastfeed all over again. (You'd think, after doing it for over a year with my Boy, that I wouldn't have any problems.) And yes Sarah, my CROTCH is actually feeling better, despite the stitches I ended up with. Now that's saying something about how uncomfortable I was!

Now my only complaint is that my neck and shoulders are stiff and incredibly painful because holding, feeding, and burping a baby is making me use muscles that I generally don't use (for my usual activities like surfing the internet for hours on end and reading stories to The Boy). So when the Baby finally falls asleep at night, I can't because I can't find a position to sleep in that doesn't cause needles of pain to shoot up my neck and burrow into my brain. What are you gonna do, though, eh?


On a non-baby-related note, ONLY ONE DAY UNTIL MY HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE IS DELIVERED TO MY DOORSTEP!!!!!!! (sorry about the multiple exclaimation points, but I can't stress enough how effing excited I am for this.) When book 5 came out, I had it read in just over 24 hours. I am super depressed that I won't be able to do this with this next book because I am now a parent. A toddler and a newborn just aren't conducive to 24-hour read-a-thons* in the comfort of my bed. It irks me to no end that there will be people in the world who know what happens to dear Harry before I do. Curse them! I hope they get really bad papercuts. And please bless that my mailman will, for some reason he can't explain, bring my book to me before he delivers the mail to the rest of my neighborhood. Oh, mister mustachioed mailman, I will totally make out with you if you do.

Oh, and Lingua Frank has an awesome story posted on his blog. Go there. Seriously.


*(remember having read-a-thons in elementary school? I think I may have been one of a handful of kids who looked forward to these because I actually got to read, ALL DAY.)

Story of Robin's birth

Today's cereal: Golden Grahams
Current mood: So tired I can't sleep

First of all, thanks to my Big Bro for posting to my blog for me. How big of a geek does it make you if you are in the frikkin' hospital, and you are wishing for a laptop so you can blog something?

So, I had an interesting day Thursday. Certainly not the day I was planning on; or even expecting. I spent the morning frantically cleaning the house before the Visiting Teachers arrived, and promptly overdid it and got sick. After they left, I got a phone call from my midwife’s office. I was supposed to go in for an appointment at 11:30, but something had been messed up and they were calling to confirm my appointment at 4:30. No problem, I told them—-I can make 4:30 work. My mom was already on her way to my house to watch The Boy while I went to my appointment, so it was too late to ask if she could come later instead, but she was okay staying with him while I had some fun. My best friend is in town from Georgia, and she wanted to take me to get a pedicure for my upcoming stay in the hospital. My first pedicure ever! It was so nice, especially since I haven’t been able to see my toes for a couple of months, let alone take care of them. They’re a lovely wine color now. See?


Our outing took a little longer than expected, so I raced home to pick up The Boy from my mom (she had something else going on that night) and head to my appointment. The Hubby was meeting me there from work, and was just going to watch Aiden in the waiting room while I ran in for my quick pee-in-a-cup-listen-to-the-heartbeat-see-you-next-week appointment. Since I had been walking around dilated to a 4 for three weeks and I hadn’t been feeling any contractions for several days, so I figured nothing would have happened. I didn’t even put my hospital bag in the car “just in case” like I had for my last two appointments because it would have been, yet again, a waste of time. I still had two weeks ‘til my due date anyways.

Imagine my surprise (I think you see where this is going) when my midwife tells me, “You are at a good 5, I can even stretch you to a 6… it’s too dangerous to send you home. You won’t make it back in time. Go across the street to the hospital and we’ll admit you. If we break your water, things will start up within 3 hours.” She swept my membranes, showed me her bloody fingers (I know you wanted to know that!), and said, “Off you go! I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

Of course I panicked a little, because we had The Boy with us, I didn’t have my bag (or my Hypnobabies CD’s!), and was I really ready for this? I had to call several people to find someone who was available to run to the hospital to pick up Aiden, and I had to call my mom (who lives a half-hour away and had just arrived home after leaving my house) and tell her to turn around and come back, and could you please pick up my bag from my house? (And my CD’s, and my toothbrush, and feed the cats, and…)

So then we went over to the hospital and checked in. It was a little surreal, I tell you what. We stood at the admission desk for a little bit before the nurses there stopped chatting and asked if we needed help. “Um, I guess I need to be admitted”, I said, not really believing it myself. I think had I been breathing heavy or moaning or other things women in labor are supposed to do, they would have jumped right up to help us. I think they were a little surprised. I was able to ask if there were a nurse on staff who was more familiar with unmedicated births, and we got a great nurse. She was very respectful of my use of hypnosis, and was just plain nice. I told her that my plans had been ruined—I had stuff to make brownies for my nurses, just waiting on my kitchen counter for my labor to begin so I could make them. She laughed, and said that I would only get sub-par care now. (I really WAS disappointed that I didn’t get to do this! Kitt thought I was insane that I planned to make brownies while I was in labor, and then take them to the hospital and say, “Hi, I’m in labor and need to be checked in now; and by the way I made you these brownies…”)

Here's me in labor... not looking as hot as I thought I was, but I am smiling. How many women in labor (*ahem* unmedicated labor) do you know who smiled through most of it? The best part of my story-- they hooked me up to the monitors, and kept asking me whether I was even feeling the contractions they were recording because I didn’t seem to be reacting to them. Well, I WASN’T feeling any contractions! After a while I started feeling pressure, but it was no more than the fake contractions I’d been having for WEEKS. My midwife commented that it was a good thing I was there at the hospital, because if I wasn’t even feeling them, I probably wouldn’t have thought to leave the house until I was nearly ready to push! Yeah, that SO would have happened. (What a mess it would have been, too… I never really realized how much goo is involved in giving birth.)

The midwife broke my water (which she had a difficult time doing because the baby was SO far down in my pelvis—in fact, Little Robin has some big scratches on her head from the hook-thingy they use to do that). After that I started feeling some more pressure. Nothing I couldn’t easily handle, though. And then pretty soon they started to be a little more intense, and I had to start using my hypnosis training for them. It worked beautifully! I would imagine my grandmother, my great grandmother, my gr-gr-grandmother, and my gr-gr-gr grandmother (all now deceased) there in the room with me and putting their hands on my belly; and the angelic light that surrounded them would surround me—that was my anesthesia. I would also "go to my special place” (St. Croix, USVI). It was so nice to be there, talking to my baby, and when the contraction ended I would promise her that I would be back there with her in just a minute when the next one started.

After a little while longer, the contractions started becoming very intense. I remember saying aloud, “Something is different”, and the nurse left to get my midwife. The contractions seemed to be focused more downwards. It was through these contractions that I lost my focus and didn’t feel like I was using my hypnosis. I wouldn’t call it painful—-more of a super intense spasm that seemed to envelop my whole body. I couldn’t seem to relax. All I wanted to do was writhe around until it stopped. I didn’t writhe around, but I was definitely tensing up. Kitt was SO wonderful during this part, trying to get me to relax, and telling how great I was doing. OMG, I love him SO MUCH!

I remember thinking that I didn’t want to do this anymore; but I recognized these contractions as the start of the pushing phase. So I knew they would soon be over and I was very close to having my baby. These contractions didn’t last more than 15 or 20 minutes before I started pushing. And once I started pushing, I honestly don’t remember feeling any contractions at all-—I was just pushing whenever fancy dictated. It only took 15 minutes of this, and I heard my midwife say, “Look down now!”

Before I could even look down, she was putting my little girl into my arms. Robin didn’t even cry, she just looked at me. It was so sweet, and I will never forget that moment. She started nursing right away, and my nurse was able to get me more time than usual before they sent her up to the nursery so I could do that. The other awesome part was that since I was unmedicated, they let me go with Kitt to the nursery to see her first bath! No one else I know has been able to do that. A little bit of bragging rights for me, I think.

So they broke my water around 5-ish, and little Robin Rae was born at 8:14 p.m. It only took 3 hours start to finish! All went well, and it was overall a very good experience. Definitely intense. Now I am exhausted and my nipples are VERY sore (you wanted to know that, too—-I know, don’t thank me), but happy to have my little girl, and happy not to be pregnant anymore (I was so excited to sleep on my back again!). I truthfully was expecting to go into labor on Saturday, so I have been in somewhat of a state of shock that she is already here. And my husband has been bragging about me and Hypnobabies to anyone that asks about the birth. He is so proud of me! Heck, I’m so proud of me!

Here are some cute pictures:




And as promised, here is the Pink Room, all done now. It is nice to sit in there and nurse my new baby.

I guess I don't need to tell you that I may be a little slow in posting to my blog. I will try to post about more interesting things than baby poop when I do post; but forgive me as I don't get out much anymore. I'm tired now... I think I will wash the baby barf off of me and take a nap.

Baby Robin

We mourn the passing of Pre-Natal, Hormonal Becky Davis and welcome the new and improved Post-Natal, Hormonal Becky Davis back into the world. Yes, Baby Robin was born on July 7th, 2005 at 8:14 pm.

In this corner, weighing in at 7 pounds 15 ounces and 19 inches long, we have for the first time in the ring, Robin Rae Davis!! And in this corner, weighing in around 24 pounds (or so?) her big brother Aiden!! How will he handle this new menace in the house? What will he do without all the attention? Only time will tell! LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE!!!

Beck is still in the Hospital until sometime this afternoon, so I, her cool brother Bryan, am letting her blogging world know the good news.

Visit from Cirith Ungol

Today's cereal: Crispix
Current mood: Tired, as always. My belly hurts, my CROTCH hurts, my back hurts, and my heart hurts a little.

So we finally, finally, thank God, finished the Pink Room. Stripes and everything! I would totally post a picture, but I suck and don't have a digital camera. Maybe my awesome brother Bryan will come over and take a picture so I can post it. I gotta say, I was a little nervous about the whole thing once we were well into the project, but with the chair rail up and the crib together and in there, it looks great.

Speaking of the crib, it is a hand-me-down (like all the other furniture in our house save our kitchen table, a bookshelf, and our tv & entertainment center). It has been sitting in our spider-infested garage for 3 or 4 months now. Seriously, I won't even go into our garage because we've killed way too damn many black widows out there. Spiders themselves are nasty deamons of Satan, but POISONOUS spiders... well, I believe they may actually be Satan himself. So back to the crib-- Kitt brings it in so we can set it up. We're about done with the painting; all is going well. This crib, though, is made of hollow metal tubes. Given my paranoia about spiders, I am surprised I didn't expect it and insist each tube be examined thoroughly before allowing it entrance into the house. Yup, a spider had been living in one of the crib rails, and made it's way out, and INTO MY BABY'S ROOM! This was not just a spider, though-- it was @%$^&%^# SHELOB. It wasn't black widow, but it was the absolute most disgusting thing I have ever, ever seen. It was huge. It was sickly yellow-white, like it had been living in a hole for 40 years. It had a GIANT butt, and long, icky, wiggly spider legs. I stood there paralyzed with fear, only able to emit little squeaks after my initial scream. Kitt's dad, who I think was clueless about my extreme spider phobia, looked at me weird and then bent over and PICKED IT UP!! (not with his bare hands, I will concede-- He had a piece of plastic dropcloth that he used... but the fact that he got that close to it made me throw up a little in my mouth.) And then the WORST PART OF ALL... Not only did he pick it up WITH HIS HAND, he then SQUISHED it. With his hand. And the POP/SQUISH of that @%^!$ enormous, @^$@*# ugly spider being squeezed in between somebody's fingers, was all I could take. I fled the room, and couldn't stop gagging and shivering afterwards.

Dammit, I HATE spiders!

But yeah, the good news is, the Pink Room is finished. Baby Robin can come any time now. Aaaany time. 1...2...3...NOW! Nope. Okay, how about...NOW! No? Okay....NOW! Please? Pleeeeaaase?