The Birth of Ryan Michael

Ryan was born at 8:23 AM. Originally it was supposed to happen at 10:30, but the hospital called and changed the time to 7:30, and told us we had to be there at 5:30 AM. I was actually happy they moved it up; I mean who was going to sleep anyway? Well, Stephen, that's it.

Jeff's mom arrived at 4:45AM; a real trooper if you ask me. At 5:15 we were off. All I can say is WOW is it different when your c-section is planned. I told the front desk my name, and they sent down a nurse to come get me. No wheelchair, nothing. It was almost anti-climatic.

When I got to my room, I got one of those lovely gowns. I asked Jeff to take one last picture of me pregnant, and then I disrobed. Hey, after infertility and having given birth before, I am not modest. Of course, I DID forget to take my underwear off; we all laughed about that one. After we filled out what seemed to be an endless amount of paperwork, I got my IV inserted and we waited and waited for the doctor's to arrive. And just so I wouldn't have an experience like last time with medication, I let two nurses and my doctor know what I was to be given. I even had all of the things the doctor told me to remind him when the delivery day happened, in a notebook. Jeff said he couldn't believe I did that. Well, let me tell you after that hellish experience with Stephen's birth I was making sure NOTHING like that happened again.

My dad and SIL were there for support, which was really nice. It was also my SIL's birthday, and she took the day off of work to be there with me. I really appreciated that! My dad also took the day off and his work even sent flowers, which was very nice.

So the nurse asks if I want to be wheeled into the operating room or walk. I have always walked into my planned surgeries, so I chose to walk. My dad couldn't believe I was going to walk in. Men are funny that way. In I walked and got positioned for the spinal. Next, we all agreed on a radio station. Can you believe when my surgery started we were listening to the Rolling Stones! When Ryan was born the song that goes...'Even though we ain't got money, I'm so in love with you honey' was on. Anyway, once the incision was made they let Jeff in. Now one thing I could have done without was the running commentary on what they were doing; there was a student nurse in there. I mean I REALLY could have used not knowing where my bladder was being placed. YUK! WHen Ryan's head was out, the doctor's asked if Jeff wanted to take a look. The funniest expression was on Jeff's face as he said no thanks! I would have looked; that would've been cool. Then the nurses asked us our guess for his weight. I said 8 lb. 5oz., Jeff guessed in the upper 8's, and the nurse guessed 8 pounds even. Well, I was closest. He was 8 pounds 7 ounces and only 19 1/2 inches long. Stephen was 8 pounds 10 ounces and 22 inches long. So all of Steve's newborn clothes are too long on Ryan.

The great thing about his delivery was the nurses were so encouraging. They kept telling me how great I was doing. Whether or not that was true, I really needed to hear that. Another wonderful thing was they handed Ryan to Jeff and let him sit with me until the last 5 minutes of them stitching me up. Jeff tried to get me to hold Ryan, he knew how important it was to me, but I couldn't reach him the way I was positioned. BUT he was close to me, and we were only separated for 5 minutes, not 45 like with Stephen. I also love the doctor who delivered Ryan; that helped too.

Going back to my room and seeing my dad holding Ryan was such a special sight. He stayed for awhile and then told me he had to go to the cemetary to tell a special woman that her baby just had another baby; he had tears in his eyes. I held mine in. Plus, I was still euphoric over having my little baby boy.

The rest of my stay was uneventful, well, except for the time they couldn't wake me up. They discontinued that medication. Scared the hell out of my husband. He said he was slapping me and I wasn't waking up, so he got the nurse. I don't remember a bit of it. Funny, huh? My husband will never forget that moment, and I don't have a clue that it even happened.

We came home on Saturday afternoon; a beautiful, sunny day. The opposite of the day we brought Stephen home. That also was a Saturday, but it was cold, cloudy and windy. The kind of day I hate. I already was suffering from PPD, so the weather wasn't helping.

I have had my hormonal moments. Just mentioning my mom brings me to tears while usually I can hold in my emotions. I also have some down moments, but just as quickly my mood changes and I am just so in love with my son. Even in the hospital, I would wait for them to bring him to me at 6:30AM and would be mad if it was later. I would just sit and hold him, feed him and love him. With Steve, I didn't want much to do with him. I am almost afraid to admit that. I bonded with Ryan so quickly. Who knew it could be this way?

I also am taking my oral progesterone and anti-depressant to ward off any PPD. I believe in being pro-active. The single most important factor in my feeling better I believe to be the way I was treated. The nurses were wonderful; the doctor's the same. I was treated with respect and like a human being. I was given proper pain management. I was an instrumental partner in my medical care. That's huge. Doctor's aren't God and they also don't read minds. I was firm about my desire for a good birth experience and how that could happen. We worked together. My doctor even talked with me Monday when I had my staples removed about my mood. I gave him a thumbs up, and told him he made a good call. We all did, and my sons and husband, as well as myself, are benefitting from it. Thank you God for that. Now if you could send my mom back, life would be as good as it gets!

I promise to post my birth story soon

The last few days I have been tired, thanks Percoset, and have really been missing my mom. I gave Jeff my mom's necklace to put in his scrubs pocket for me since I couldn't wear any jewelry, but wanted something of my mom's in the delievery room with me. Well, he threw his scrubs away like the nurses told him to, and well, my mom's necklace was thrown away too. I am heartbroken, but Jeff feels SO bad how can I yell at him? He feels bad enough already. So right now I am trying to put my mom not being here to see Ryan in perspective. Please don't tell me she is watching over him right now, because frankly I don't want to hear it. I want her here. I don't have PPD; I just miss my mom and didn't realize how much her not being here would affect me. I miss you, mom!!!

Just a quick annnouncement

Ryan Michael was born at 8:37 on Tuesdat, MAy 17th. He is a very healthy baby, and loves to be held. I am so glad of that since Steve did not care for being held. He weighed in at a healthy 8 pounds, 7 ounces, 19 1/2 inches long. Yep, I have big babies!

I had a wonderful experience this time. The nurses were fantastic!!! My mood has been good. Now tha twe are at home, I hope that continues. Last time at this time with Stephen i was already experiencing PPD, not this time, so I am cautiously optimistic that things will stay good. I am a bit sore from my incision, but the pain meds are helping.

Goot go. Baby crying. I love that sound!!!

Let's Hear It For the Boys

As I sit here on the eve of my youngest child's birth, I am trying to put into words what I am feeling right now. The truth is that I am feeling so many things from sheer joy and excitement, to downright fear. The fear part comes from my oldest son's decision to start acting like the terrible two's. Jeff said if he had shown us this side a year ago we may have reconsidered having another child. JUST KIDDING, STEVIE BOY!

I cannot believe that this time tomorrow I will be holding my second, and final, miracle baby boy. It just doesn't seem real. I mean it DOES feel like it is time for this pregnancy to end, but it just doesn't feel like tomorrow is the day.

Just 2 1/2 years ago I had my little boy Stephen. The little boy who helped me so much. He was/is my buddy. We do everything together. It seems surreal that we will have to share our bond with another little boy. I know I can love them equally, but can I give them each enough of my time? I guess time will tell.

Stephen is my sweet, sensitive boy. My little fair-skinned blondie. My sweet baby boy. My everything. The child who makes everyone smile. The one who hugs you when it is much-needed and you didn't even ask. The baby boy who gave me a purpose to my life when my mother died. The baby boy who I got out of bed for each morning. The only one who could make me laugh and smile. The one who gave me hope.

Ryan is my little boy who is due to make his entrance into this world tomorrow. The baby I thought I may never have. A sibling for Stephen. The culmination of our family. The baby my mom will never hold.

I am so happy that Steve will have a brother. I felt so much guilt when it looked like he was going to be an only child. I wanted him to have what I have with my brother. I felt if I didn't give him a sibling I would be short-changing him. I was afraid he may hate me for it, even though I was doing my best to give him one. I also didn't want him to be alone because of my family history of breast cancer. I felt if I did die early, I didn't want him to be alone in his grief. I wanted him to have a sibling to go through it with. Having my brother really helped , and still helps, me deal with my mom's loss. I didn't want everything to fall on Steve's shoulders. Jeff used to question who I wanted this baby for: Steve or us. I definitely want this child as much for us as I do for Steve. I am so glad that I got to experience pregnancy a second time. I have it 'out of my system' now; don't want to do it again! And I am so glad to get the chance to experience another newborn. Maybe this time I won't have PPD and will get to enjoy him to the fullest.

So my boys, I feel so incredibly lucky to be your mom. I hope you grow to love each other even though you may not always like each other. You will always have each other, which is a true gift, even though it may not always feel that way. Your father and I tried so hard to have you and feel blessed that you are in our lives.

My dearest Stephen, your world will be turned upside down for awhile, but don't ever think for a moment that we love you any less because we now have your brother too. We have had so many special moments together that I will never forget, and we will continue having those moments, I promise. I love you more than you will ever know.

Your mama

****I will be off-line until next week. I will let you all know how the birth went, and if my PPD returned. I also hope to be able to watch the season finale of 'Gilmore Girls' tomorrow, but since I probably won't be able to, will someone let me know what happens? I love that show!!! Thanks!

What a Difference a Year Makes

Yesterday I started thinking, well CONTINUED to think, about how much our lives are going to change very soon. Then I thought about how it almost didn't happen; how we almost never got the chance to bring another child into this world. It was close guys, very close.

A little over a year ago marked the first anniversary of my mom's death. Just a few days later I went in for my pregnancy test for our last IUI cycle. If this cycle did not work, we were going to take a break for a few months, and then do an IVF cycle. Just before the day of my test, we found out Jeff was going to a conference in Malaysia in July, which happened to be the month we thought we would do our first IVF cycle, if necessary, course I prayed that it wouldn't be necessary. So now July was out, and the clinic originally had planned to close the lab in August for 'cleaning.' Now I really prayed even harder that this cycle had worked. Waiting is always hard, but waiting for three months seemed cruel. Plain cruel.

I went in and gave my blood, with my sweet little Clomid/IUI toddler boy in tow. I still cannot believe that all it took was Clomid to get pregnant with Steve and it took IVF this time. Ain't infertility a lot of fun?! That afternoon I got the phone call. Now I usually handle bad news surprising well, at first. I do not like to show emotion to people, particularly those whom I am not related to. I detest pity. However, when the nurse told me the result was negative AGAIN, the tears just rolled down my face. I don't know if she could tell, but it still bothered me. I mean I had no control over my tears. No control, and I just hate that. The frustration of the past year, the surgery that didn't relieve my endometriosis pain and didn't improve pregnancy rates, the countless Clomid and injectible cycles, the disappointments, missing my mom like crazy, I just couldn't hold it in any more. I thanked the nurse quickly for the results and hung up the phone. And then I waited to get my period which I knew would only bring me pain due to the endometriosis. I remember writing in my journal, "What did I do to deserve this?".

Well, my period did arrive, and the pain was so bad I needed to take Vicodin. When I need to take a narcotic I will not allow myself to be alone with my son. Therefore, my wonderful husband took Steve to my brother's, who is a SAHD. I could not thank my brother enough. I don't like to ask for help, but I just couldn't take care of my son. The next day I felt that I would be better. I had previously offerred to take my brother's 2-year old for him so he could go on my other niece's field trip. Good thing my brother didn't believe me, and was able to find someone to watch his daughter. I was able to take only prescription strength Motrin, so I felt I could handle Steve, but definitely not two toddlers. That day PBS became my new best friend.

I called my RE that day and asked to be put on the pill while waiting to begin our IVF cycle. I would take it continuously so I wouldn't get another period, thus alleviating that monthly pain. I also started accupuncture treatments. I figured what the hell? Surgery hadn't helped, and maybe in combination with the pill, I would get some much-needed relief. And I did.

I also got some good news. My clinic would be doing IVF cycles in August after all. I set up all of my appointments and set off on a family vacation to California to see my mom's family. I cannot emphasize how much good it did for my soul to sit with my mom's father and brother, and family and share memories of my mom. She felt alive again to me, and I felt at peace for the first time in a long time. I remember being on the free-way in San Diego listening to the radio looking at the beautiful mountains. The song 'The Reason' by Hoobastank(oops!) kept coming on. 'I finally found a reason for me. To change how I used to be. And the reason is you.' I looked at my son and realized I needed to be present, wholey, for him. I may never have another child, he may hate me for it, but I needed to live in the present. I was able to do that while in California. Unfortunately, it didn't last when we got home.

We had friends over that weekend, and I could not wait for them to leave so I could sleep. I love these friends too, but I was feeling very down, and wanted to be alone. My entire family noticed my mood and talked with me about it. I made plans to stay busy and do things I enjoyed. It didn't happen overnight, but I began to feel better. I stopped seeing my moms group for awhile since I was literally the only one not pregnant. Now this group of woman are wonderful people, but hearing about their pregnancies, something they had that I desperately wanted, just wasn't helping me at all. I needed to take a break, and I did.

Now you would think that I had an excellent IVF cycle. That everything that happened from that point on was positive, but it wasn't. I went in for my pre-IVF bloodwork and received a call a few days later telling me my FSH was 13. Now it had always been 8 before, which is on the high average end as it is, but 13-no. That is just insanely high. I was crushed! And Jeff was in Malaysia, so there was no one to help me off the cliff I was standing dangerously close to. I waited ALL DAY for my doctor to call me back. When he did I plainly asked if it was even worth it to do an IVF cycle, reminding him that our insurance would not pay a dime and this was coming out of our savings. He felt it would be, but of course we wouldn't know for sure until we tried one cycle. Jeff came home from Malaysia a few days later, and also talked to our doctor. We decided to give it a try.

Try, we did. I was put on the highest dose of meds. due to my high FSH level. My RE felt the high FSH level would correlate with a lower than average response to the meds., so we started high with the understanding we could always decrease the meds. I ended up being a 'slow responder'. My RE told me on the Wednesday before the retrieval that if I did not produce any more follicles, I had 8, that he would cancel the cycle. And as promised he was honest about how successful we would be. He said if he cancelled this cycle, he felt it would be indictive of future cycles and he would advise against doing any more treatment. Go home and enjoy your son. I was devastated! He set up a u/s for that Friday, and everything was left until then.

I called Jeff in tears on the way home. I was crushed. When he got home, we talked. I prayed, and began to feel a positiveness spring up. I am generally pessimistic about such things, but I was beginning to feel like it would all work out. On Friday, I was up to 14 follicles. My RE couldn't believe it! He still gave us only a 15-20 percent of getting pregnant, but that was better than nothing.

Retrieval happened on that Tuesday. I ended up with 9/10 fertilizing. Three were the highest grade they can be. So much for poor egg quality like my RE suspected! We transferred all three of those beauties. My RE upped our odds to 40-50 percent based on our embryo quality. I asked him what my problem was then, and he said I may not even have one. To this day I am considered 'unexplained infertility.' No one can tell me why we haven't gotten pregnant the old fashioned way.

I continued to feel positive, which again is very unlike me. Two weeks later I got the call that forever changed our lives for the better; I was pregnant. My HCG level was 479!!! My RE suspected multiples. So I go from almost not making enough eggs to making multiple babies. Wow!

I had one more blood test, and then scheduled an ultrasound. My RE sat Jeff and I down beforehand. He prepared us for the possiblity of triplets. Um, Come again!!! My HCG numbers were that high. In my heart, I did not believe there were triplets and there weren't. There were twins. Unfortunately, we lost baby B.

So here we are, one year later. My second little boy is due to come into this world this week, and I could not be happier. Nervous, scared, excited, and happy. My little boy will have a sibling, something I wanted very much for him. This baby is a true miracle. The doctors didn't think he could be conceived. My RE even said he was going to write this one down. So I have learned to believe even when others tell you not to. When they tell you it probably won't happen. When they tell you not to get your hopes up. I am sitting here rubbing my miracle, and I can't wait to hold him in my arms for the rest of our lives.

Listen to Your Mother!

Ryan, this is mommy. Please stay put until Tuesday. You scared me last night. I thought you were coming, and I got so nervous. I need more sleep. I like the fact that everything is scheduled this time. (You will understand some day how much mama loves to know what is going to happen, when and how.) So, Ryan, honey, if you could please wait until TuesdayI would really appreciate it.

***Yes, last night I was trying to reason with a fetus. Pretty sad, huh?! Actually I was having those false labor pains. They were so painful and at one point, regular, that I was beginning to think my little man was going to come early. I forgot how painful labor is. I got no sleep last night, but my wonderful husband let me sleep REALLY late. God Bless Him! We are still here, and Jeff has gotten my bag from downstairs so I can pack, which I will do sometime before we leave on Tuesday. What is holding me back???

***Sidenote---I talked to my dad about not bringing J. around and my feelings on the whole situation. He was wonderful about it. So no stress there. Thank goodness I decided to be an adult and talk to him about it instead of just stressing myself out.

***Quick question----Did anyone get REALLY hungry their last week of pregnancy? With Steve, I was so sick of eating and craved nothing. However, with Ryan I am craving food constantly! I mean it certainly is telling when staff at restaurants recognize you!!! I was just wondering if this has happened to others or if I am the only freak out there who craves food in her last week of pregnancy?

Going tomorrow AM to give blood for my surgery. For over a year, I gave blood on an every other day basis, with the fertility treatments and all. Plus, I have lost count of the many shots I have given myself. So why am I nervous about a bloodtest and the upcoming IV I'll get? Weird.

Nesting the Second Time Around

Well, it has officially started. I am nesting. After weeks of no motivation, I now have tons and have gotten a lot done. Now me being the anal, control-freak that I am, had all the big stuff done months ago. The baby's room was painted in January. Clothes washed, hung and ready to go two months ago. No, what I got done yesterday was under the headline 'Why the Hell Would Anyone Care?'.

What did I do you ask? I spot cleaned the carpet, stairs included. I took Clorex wipes and wiped the washer and dryer down, as well as all of the laundry baskets. Yah, real important stuff! I vacuumed the utility room and organized all of the detergents, fabric softeners and spot treaters. I organized the kitchen pantry, refrigerator, counters, etc. The medicine cabinet is now organized with clear, plastic bins according to illness and need. Oh, and the basement/Stephen's playroom is now all organized, vacuumed, etc. And do you want to know something? I still haven't packed my hospital bag.

Thanks, Brooke!

I recently finished reading Brooke Shield's book about her postpartum depression and while it was no literary award-maker, it was quite good. When Steve was 4 months old I read Marie Osmond's account of her battle with PPD. I felt she sugar-coated a lot. I did not feel this way with Brooke's book, and I want to thank her for that.

I found that her experiences that predisposed her to PPD and mine were similar. She struggled with infertility before getting pregnant. I, like her, thought that the hard part was GETTING pregnant, but once I did, things would be great. I set myself up. I, too, had an ideal as to what parenting a newborn would be like. I, like Brooke, didn't expect to labor all day only to need an emergency c-section. I, too, didn't expect to be one of the last to hold my baby that I had worked so hard to have. I did most of the work, and was the last to reap the rewards of holding my son. I , too, was very jealous of my husband's ability to go with Stephen right after his birth and hold him. Instead, I got to lay and have my insides sewn up alone. Anti-climatic to say the the least. I was, and still am, very angry about that experience. You know, the one I get to have again next week. I'm sure the hospital hasn't changed its policy on taking the baby quickly away. I'm trying to come to terms with that. Brooke also received no pain management after her c-section. She, too, was made to feel like a complainer. And the way she describes how she felt nothing for her daughter, initially, just described how I felt so well. Oh, and she lost her father a mere three weeks before her daughter's birth. Remember, I found out my mom's cancer was terminal while IN the hospital. Oh, and I guess having a miscarriage also puts you at a higher risk of PPD, and we both had miscarriages. I must say, it was surprising to me that a celebrity didn't fare any better after a traumatic birth than I had.

Another thing that surprises me is that these events in both of our lives are KNOWN risk factors for PPD, yet no one said a thing about it. I hear that some hospitals screen patients for post-partum depression before they leave the hospital. I think that is such a wonderful and helpful, not to mention money-saving for the insurance companies, thing for them to do. I also have recently read that SOME doctors actually discuss the possibility of PPD with their patients before they give birth, particularly if some red flags for the disease come up. Prior to Steve's birth, I DID discuss the possiblity of PPD with my doctor. My SIL developed it with her third child, and brought up her concerns about me being at risk. Therefore, I brought it up with my OB, who told me I had to keep an eye out for it and to call him if I felt I had, in fact, developed it. He never told me what to look for, though.

I do feel I am one of the lucky ones. I recognized it early on and wasn't willing to wait it out to see if it got better. Steve was two weeks old when I called my OB and told him I needed help. I also was already seeing a therapist, so I called her for an emergency appt. She agreed I wasn't over-reacting and needed help. It took many months for me to feel really good. I would have good days and bad days, then good weeks and bad weeks etc. It was frustrating, but I'm glad I perservered and never gave up. I am also SO glad I have a husband who stuck it out with me. I never questioned that he would; I just felt he may get sick of me and only stay with me out of obligation. He assured me that wasn't the case.

However, reading Brooke's book made me realize that my depression may not have been as severe as I thought. I never had images of my baby being hurt by anything. I never had the desire to kill myself. I felt like I wanted to leave and come back when I felt better, if I ever did, but I didn't want to die. I did feel that Steve would have been better off without me for awhile. I did feel like things would never get better. I did feel like what the hell did I get myself into! Then I felt guilt because I tried so hard to have Steve that I should have been the vision of a Johnson&Johnson commercial ad. mother. I mean I got my miracle; what the hell was I complaining about?! I did feel like I lost myself, and all I wanted to do was sit and cry, which with a lovely incision, didn't feel so good. I felt ugly, which didn't help, and out of control of everything around me. There was no routine, there was no order. Hell, I didn't know when I would eat next, ME the queen of routine! Nothing had gone like I thought it would, and I have never in my life been so damn tired before. The painkillers were definitely not helping that area either. Course, I did not want to be in pain, so that was a catch 22. At night I had insomnia. I hate to admit this, but I am on Valium for a bladder disorder that occurred, can you believe the irony, after I had a lap. to remove any endometriosis I had so that I could GET PREGNANT. A complication occurred and I am on one medication for life now, and Valium when things get particularly bad or after a surgery to ward off any resulting trauma. Whatever. Anyway, I found myself taking the Valium as much for my anxiety as for my bladder condition. I assure you this did not last long, and was one of the reasons I got help so quickly. I did not want to become a drug addict on top of all of my other problems. Still with me? But things did get better, and for that I am grateful. I will admit to everyone that I would not be having another child if I had had two already when I developed PPD. I am scared TO DEATH that come next week I will be back in the postpartum hell that I have struggled so long to get out of. I want my son to have a sibling, and Jeff and I wanted to have our two kids. I did say years ago that I may try for a third child if I had two boys first, before infertility of course. Now, no way. Not after PPD. I just can't justify it. I can't take that risk. And this is a risk I am taking. Jeff and I have discussed what we will do if my PPD comes back. I know holding my son and not having my mom there to be with me is going to be indescribably hard. I had dinner last night with my mom's best friend and she discussed her concern about that with me. It's going to be hard, and I won't know how hard until it happens. I hate that. I like to prepare for everything, and this is something you just can't prepare for.

Today I had my last OB appt. and discussed again my fears of the PPD returning. I have been on Paxil and now my OB prescribed oral progesterone. I already have had that prescription filled. He said that the research indicated that the dramatic drop of hormones immediately following birth has a factor in many cases of PPD. So I will be taking my anti-depressant and progesterone to hopefully ward this off. I had read something to the same effect, so I feel comfortable attempting this approach, as does my husband:)

Okay, something more positive. I am now measuring right where I should be for 38 weeks. Prior to month nine, I was measuring on average two weeks ahead, and the belief was that this would be another big boy. Fine by me, I'm having a c-section. Now two of the doctors who have seen me both believe this baby is going to be SMALLER than Steve. My OB asked me again today how big Steve was. I told him 8 pounds, 10 ounces, 22 inches long. Then he asked if it was a girl. Nope. So we don't know why, but this baby appears to be smaller, which if he's healthy I'm more than fine with. The only wrench in my plans is that since we thought he'd be large like his brother, I bought clothes in bigger sizes. Oh, well. If it's a hot summer, I guess he'll be wearing lots of onesies! So much for planning!!!

Huh?!

My dad has informed me that he and J. are seeing each other again. Huh? Come again? I mentioned the fact that she doesn't want to see our family and has that, well, CHANGED? He said they are working on it. Oh, really. I am just tired of this crap. I know my dad is lonely. I understand this, but I do not want anything to do with this relationship. Do not bring her to my home. Do not bring her by to see the new baby; she is not welcome here. I do not need any stress. I DID like her, however, when you clearly state to my dad that you want it to be only him and you, not US, then that's what you are going to get---ONLY HIM. Jeff said not to worry as she doesn't want to see us anyway, but how come I have the feeling he will try to force the issue. Don't. I respect the fact that he is an adult and thus can do what he likes. That's fine. I do feel like my parents must have felt every time they saw me get back together with an old boyfriend they clearly knew wasn't right for me. It is hard sitting back and watching when I know what is going to happen. BUT he is an adult; he has to make his own mistakes. I accept this. However, I do NOT have to see J. She is not my mother, my friend, my anything. I treated her like one of the family, and how did I get re-paid? Oh, yah. She wanted to cut me and my family out of my father's life. I lost my mom. Let me ask you, was it fair to even think I should have to lose my father too? And therein lies the problem, she didn't think about me/us at all. Furthermore, as I have mentioned before, my son was getting closer to her. Running up and giving her hugs and the like. NO ONE will mess with my son's feelings. NO ONE. I don't care WHO you think you are. It ain't gonna happen. So I plan on having the discussion with my father that he is not to bring her around unless they have officially made plans to marry. Got it. A REAL COMMITMENT, not just talk. I do not let someone into my heart easily, and I let her in. I trusted her; I stuck up for her. It isn't going to happen again. As the old saying goes: trick me once, shame on you. Trick me twice, shame on ME. And I will NOT be tricked a second time.

Sick!

I am so sorry that I have not posted since, gasp!, Monday. I fell ill on Tuesday with what I call the mother of all colds. It's not bad enough that little Ryan is on his mother's ribs making it difficult to breath as it is, but now I cannot even breathe through my nose. I am a nose breather, and cannot stand having to breath through my mouth. I also have that lovely acid in my throat so breathing through my mouth is very distasteful.

On Thursday I decided I better bring in our dog Madison to the vet. for her heartworm check-up as well as for some S*entinel flea/tick/heartworm pills. When I was in high school our dog got fleas from the neighbor's dog, and well, that will NOT be happening in this house if I can help it! So I brought her in to the vet. that I love who is about 20 minutes or so from the house. Well, it took way longer than that to get there this time as our community is building on every scrap of land left. By building I mean these monstrous houses that are so big you have to wonder who really needs a house that big to begin with. What I do not like more, however, is that the city is letting the construction company run the traffic. So they have blocked off one lane with their trucks and are only letting one lane go at a time. All the while I have a whining dog, who knows exactly where's she's going, and a child in the car. I also have one hell of a cold and absolutely no patience. BUT, this dog was getting these pills damnit because I am not about to have fleas in my house, especially with a newborn. I am a bit anal about some things.

Well, Madison did get her pills and my breathing situation got worse. I am allergic to cats and some dogs. This is not usually a problem unless I am not taking my allergy medications which I'm not. I should have thought about this, but I was too preoccupied with Madision getting those damn pills. UGH!

Today was my nephew, and Godson's, communion. I am not Catholic, but felt it was important to be there. I was not able to make the party, but I am happy to say that I made it through the mass. It was not easy to find something to wear, I tell you. The dress pants that I was going to wear along with my shirt/sweater combo. did not cover my belly. I did not find it acceptable to wear into a church. Can you imagine the priest's face? No, not cool. Luckily I have way too many black pants and was able to find a pair that used to WAY too big, but sadly fit beautifully today. Less than two weeks, I keep telling myself:)

I don't think I am going to make it anywhere for Mother's Day tomorrow. Jeff is home, so he has Steve, and frankly I do not care for the holiday due to my mom not being alive, and dying a few days prior to Mother's Day two years ago. Jeff will probably go over to his mom's for a bit with Steve, and I will lay in bed getting rid of this cold. Sleep seems to be the greatest gift Jeff and Steve could give me right now. At first I felt guilty about not going over to my IL's, but then I told myself it's my day too, I'm sick and nine months pregnant. I think people will understand, and if they don't , well, I have to take care of myself first and foremost. I started feeling somewhat like my husband and son should stay here with me, but truthfully, what can they do for me? I also don't think I will make it to the cemetary to visit my mom, but as a good friend of mine said, that's just a physical place to visit and she's not really there. Her spirit is in heaven and therefore I can talk to her wherever I am.

My boys, Steve and Ryan, did send me some flowers on Friday(with Daddy's help). I love tulips and there are a wide variety of colors in this bouquet. It was really sweet.

I am starting to get excited and a bit scared as Ryan is about to be born. I pray I make it to my scheduled c-section date. Having this planned this time has really helped me to relax. Last time everything was so nuts. Oh, how I hope I have a better experience this time around. I want to enjoy every minute of my newest, sweet baby boy.

The Good Wife?

I am sitting here very tired at almost 9:00PM. Steve is in bed, put there by mommy, the downstairs is picked up, directed by mommy. I did this on the floor even though I swore I wouldn't. Reason: my son will do a half-assed job, even by two-year old standards, if I'm not right there so he knows that I know that he's not really cleaning up. Where is my husband? Oh, no not at work. Actually, the good news is that busy season has officially ended so now he'll be home at a more reasonable time. So for two weeks, things will be back to normal around here. After that, all hell breaks loose as baby boy #2, now officially known as Ryan Michael, arrives. Oh, yah, where IS my husband you ask??? At basketball. Then out for drinks at a bar where I hear only adults go.

I feel a bit guilty complaining, but then I think maybe I shouldn't. But maybe I should. Reasons for feeling like I might be being selfish about this all. #1---He took care of Steve all weekend long. He let me sleep in. I did not change one diaper. #2---He has been working long hours for almost 4 months which he hasn't exactly enjoyed either. #3---This job enables me to stay home with our children, which I do enjoy most of the time. Or I know is important, or the right thing for me to do, or something like that. Ask me when I'm not pregnant or recovering from a c-section. #4---He did all the laundry. And brought the basket upstairs the same day. I will put my stuff and Steve's away. He will put his own clothes away.

Reasons why I feel upset, and a little angry, that Jeff is at basketball. #1--- I am 9 months pregnant. Enough said there. #2 Steve is 2 1/2 years-old. Enough said there. #3--- I have been taking care of Steve pretty much exclusively Monday-Friday for four months so Jeff could do all the work he had to do. He never had to worry about getting off of work in time to pick Steve up from daycare or the like. He knows I am always here, and that Steve is in good hands. And to be honest, me not working almost saves us money. We did the calculations, and with child-care and other work related expenses, plus having to pay more taxes due to our dual income, well I almost would be paying to work. Remember I am a teacher in a middle-class suburb. Loved the job, not the salary. #4---When does my busy season end???? #5--- Jeff came home at 5:30 to eat and then left at 6:15. Yah, no help there. And he won't be home until 10:30. Nice to see you honey! #6---One of the few times we went out sans Steve, we went to dinner with his boss. The time before that, we went to his company party. I am always the 'good wife', I feel. I go to the parties, the dinners, the plays, and yes I do sometimes enjoy them. But I also would like my husband to plan a night for just the two of us. I actually had to remind him yesterday that it would be nice to go to dinner next Saturday by ourselves since I would be having another one of his children the following week. Gosh, I'm a bitch. #7---Mother's Day will be at his parent's house. I will be going. Ever since my mom died I dread this holiday. Last year, I didn't go anywhere. I had paid to do a breast cancer walk in memory of my mom. I even bought the supplies to make Steve a shirt that said 'Walking in memory of my Grandma'. Needless to say, that shirt never got made, and I only got out of bed that day to go to the cemetary. So if I do make it, or try, to my IL's house on Sunday it is a HUGE thing.
Anyway, I feel like lately I am doing a lot for my husband and just wish he wouldn't make me feel guilty when I say I need some help. I do know, and appreciate, that Jeff does more than the average males that we know. But still, I don't feel like he gets it when I tell him how tired I am, how uncomfortable I am, how I can be in pain from a baby doing flip-flops in my belly where there is no longer any room. Every woman I have talked to gets this, of course, because they've been there. Am I being selfish by wanting my husband here? For wanting him to feel a little of how I feel every day? To feel appreciated?