A Letter to My Daughter on her 14th Birthday

To My Darling Girl,

Welcome to the world, little one!  After 10 hours of induced labor, 10 minutes of pushing, one stuck baby, two nurses pushing on my stomach, and the doctor yanking you out of me, you are finally here!

I am so happy to meet you, my love.  You are snuggled into my right arm while I type one handed, your schooshie face scrunched up and your eyes squeezed shut as if to open them would be to face the fact that you are outside of me, ready to take on this big world.

Today you are 14, my angel.  Your entire life is stretching before you.  I have such hopes for you.  I hope you are creative and brave enough to follow that creativity.  I hope you realize that failure is an opportunity in disguise -- it's a chance to do better, to be better.  I hope you try again and again and again... even if you never get it right.  Perfection is not possible.

 I hope you have adventures.  Not the sneaking out of the house to see if you can adventures.  But the type of adventures that help you learn who you are as a person and grow into a better human being.  And I hope that you can make adventures out of an ordinary day. 

I hope you can laugh at yourself and I hope you don't let other people laugh at you.  I hope you stand up for yourself.  I hope you are strong enough to tell your friends when they are wrong, to think outside the box, and that you can be nice to yourself. 

I hope you can go with the flow in a way that I never can.  I hope you can adapt when possible.  I hope you can stand firm when necessary.  I hope you know which battles are worth fighting and which ones are ridiculous.

I hope you are a good sister -- strong and caring, but not afraid to call your sisters and brother on their bulls@#$.  I hope you love your sisters and brothers and I hope you know that you are just as loved and just as important to me as they are.

And I hope and pray that if you have trouble believing or doing anything that I hope for you, you can come to me.  I will help you believe it.  I will help you do it.  Why?  Because I love you.  Because I believe you are capable of great things and ordinary things -- capable of anything you choose to do.  Life is not to be lived alone --  you have a family who loves you so very, very, very much.  And we are always here for you.

You only have one life, my love.  And now you get to decide how to live it.  I hope you make it a great one.

I hope you know that you are a wonder.  You are amazing.  You are fabulous.  You are an individual.  You are strong.  I hope you know that I love you.

You can talk to me about anything.

I love you,

Mom

Wordless Wednesday: Debuting Halloween 2012

Life According to a 7 month Old...

~

"Hmmm... what's this?
My foot? Let's eat it.
My hand? Let's eat it.
My stuffed bug? Let's eat it.
My rattle? Let's eat it.
Momma's hand? Let's eat it.
Momma's shoulder? Let's eat it.
Momma's necklace? Let's eat it.
Momma's hair? Let's eat it.
Momma's coffee cup? Let's eat it.
My sister? Let's eat it.
My brother? Let's eat it.
Daddy's chin? Let's eat it.
The dog? Let's eat it."

Wordless Wednesday: BABIES!

Wordless Wednesday: My Sweet Nephew

Scary Doctor's Visit, Calm Doctor...

I had my 30 week check up yesterday.

Everything looked good. It was as he was leaving that my doctor dropped THE BOMB.

"Oh, by the way," he said, very matter of factly, "In your last ultrasound, I noticed that the gap between the baby's brain and skull was a smidge too big. I'm sure it's nothing, but I want you to meet with a perinatal doctor and have a fetal diagnostic test done."

As everything around me came to a crashing standstill, all I could do was sputter: "Wh-wh-what?"

Seeming to realize that he both stunned and scared the sh#$ out of me, my OB said, "Shannon, truly, it's nothing to be afraid of. I'm not worried. We just want to get a better look. Tanya will call you to set up the appointment."

Several questions flew through my mind, but only one came out. It wasn't, what do you mean, gap? Nor was it, Can I have the medical definition of "smidge"? I didn't ask, what is a perinatal doctor? Nor did I ask, what is a fetal diagnostic? And I certainly didn't give voice to my biggest fear, what is wrong with my baby? Will she have a mental handicap? What does this mean?

Nope, the only question I could ask was, "When will I have the results?"

My doc patted my arm, "That day. Not a big deal. I'm not worried. See you in two weeks."

I somehow made it to my car and wished I could go home and Google perinatal doctor, fetal diagnostic, gap, and smidge. I couldn't. I had to drive to Hacienda Heights to administer the state tests. Great.

So I did the next best thing - I called my mom, who is a nurse. No answer. I called my sister, who is almost a nurse practitioner. No answer. I called my other sister, who is also a nurse. No answer. I called my other sister, who is in nursing school. No answer. (And I'm a teacher - there is one in every family, I guess.)

When I couldn't get a hold of them, I called my husband. No answer.

Finally, I called my dad. He answered.

I wish I could say that he was an OB or a perinatal doctor and was able to set my fears to rest. He isn't. He's an operations manager for a shipping company. It was when I was talking to him that the tears started.

However, having raised 4 daughters, my father speaks fluent, tear-coated emotion.

He listened to everything I said and knew I was done when I finally wailed, "And I did my eyes today!" (Having raised 4 daughters, he knew that meant my make up was a now a mess.)

He told me to pull over, calm down, fix my make up, and he would find my mom.

In the meantime, my husband called back. My panicked text: "Something's wrong with the baby's brain" really freaked him out. When I told him everything, he let out a giant sigh of relief. "They thought something was wrong with my nephew too," he told me. "And he's fine." He offered to drive out and proctor the tests for me (which I couldn't let him do). And he told me that he knew I was scared, but if the doctor wasn't worried, then I should not worry either.

After that, my sister the almost NP called. She managed to calm me down quite a bit by pointing out several things:

1. OBs have the highest malpractice rates -- my doctor is probably just covering his a@#.
2. If my OB was worried about retardation, he would have sent me for an amnio, not a fetal diagnostic.
3. If my OB was really worried about anything, I would be at the hospital, not crying my eyes out in a McDonald's parking lot.

So I felt a bit better - enough to continue driving to work. And then my other sister, the nurse, called. And she pointed out several things:

1. Ultrasound technology basically sucks.
2. The gap could have been a shadow, the baby could have been lying wrong, or the baby could be going through a growth spurt.
3. The ultrasound technician could have been bad.

So I felt a lot better.

Then my mom called. She explained what a fetal diagnostic test was and what a perinatal specialist did. She told me that as scary as it was, I needed to calm down, because all I was doing was stressing out the baby.

And then she pointed out the one thing that I had overlooked: I have all ready had six ultrasounds. (As a high risk patient, I have to have one every 2 weeks until 32 weeks, when I have one every week.) And, as my mom put it, if there was really a problem, they would have seen it before now. "One ultrasound, in the grand scheme of things, is a fluke, Shannon," she told me.

And I know that my sisters and mom are right. I know that my husband is right in his "We can't worry about a chance - everything has a chance" attitude. I know that I have to trust God in this.

But I'm still scared.

Prenatal Potpourri

~
Driving to a prenatal appointment, I pointed out the hospital to the kids. "That is where Mommy is going to go when she has the baby," I explained. "You guys will get to come visit me with Gam Gam and Poppa."

Girlie piped up: "Sometimes, when I have little babies, I have to go to the hospital too so the doctor can help the baby pop out of my foot."

~
I took Girlie's hand and put it on my belly. "Feel that, sweetie?" I asked. "That is the baby doing jumping jacks."

She felt carefully for a minute and then took my hand and put it on her stomach. "Do you feel that Mommy?" she asked me seriously. "That is the pillows in my tummy jumping on my spine."

~
My daughter informed me that her tummy hurt because the pillows were jumping around. I told her that sometimes rubbing the baby made my tummy feel better, and maybe if she rubbed her tummy, the pillows would stop.

After thinking it over, she said, "No, only cupcakes will make the pillows stop jumping around."

~
Girlie informed me that Baby must have a pump in my belly, since my tummy is getting so big.

~
My daughter told me that she is sharing the bed she slept in when she was in my tummy with her baby sister. She then told me it was a good bed because it was only 12 steps away from the kitchen. Um, how big am I getting?

~
Girlie informed me that she needed a snuggle today. When I opened my arms, she said, "Not with you! With Baby!" She then gently laid her head on my belly and said, "I love my sister."

Potpourri

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My son walked into the kitchen as naked as can be, grabbed a dish towel, wrapped it around his neck, and looked up at me. "I hewo, MomME," he told me.

"No you aren't," my daughter shot back. "You're naked."

~
Discussing swim lessons with my daughter:

"And you will learn to swim with a teacher; Mommy won't get in the water this year."

Girlie: "I don't want a teacher. I want Daddy to teach me to swim."

Daddy: "I'll teach you to swim. You probably won't like it, but you'll be water safe."

Me: "Or she'll be afraid of the water and Mommy will be P-I-S-S-E-D."

Daddy: "Either way, she's still water safe."

~
I caught my daughter sucking her peas off of her plate. "What on earth are you doing?" I asked her.

"Pretending to be a fork," she told me matter of factly.

~
My husband asked me the other night if we were done having kids after the baby is born. We had always said we wanted four, but now we are really tired.

"I don't know," I said with exhaustion. "Can we get through this pregnancy and the first year before we decide?"

"I suppose that is fair," he replied.

"I would sign on for one more if you could guarantee it would be a boy," I told him.

"I'm afraid I can only give you 50-50 odds," he shot back.

~
I woke up to my son screaming, "MomME, I need you!" at 3 in the morning the other day. I stumbled into his room and patted his back.

"What do you need, bug?" I asked sleepily.

"Watch Hewcules now!"

~
I watched my son begin stomping my daughter's back while they were lying on my bed. Since she was giggling, I didn't want to get involved... still, it looked painful.

"What's going on guys?" I asked.

Girlie giggled: "Brother's giving me stomping kisses!"

~
My husband tends to snore when he sleeps on his back. So I gently tapped him the other night at two in the morning. "Honey," I said sleepily. "Roll over. You're snoring."

"SNARCK - snore," was my response.

"Honey," I said, shaking him firmly. "You are snoring. ROLL OVER!"

"SNARCK - snore," was my response.

"Honey," I snapped, elbowing him in the side. "You are SNORING. ROLL OVER!"

"SNARCK - snore, 'kay" was my response.

I kicked him in the shin. "WILL YOU ROLL OVER?" I whisper-yelled.

"SNARCK - snore," was my response.

But then he rolled over. So he was facing me. And proceeded to cuddle me, effectively pinning to me to the bed. And as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard: "SNARCK - snore," in my ear.

Son of a bi@#%

~
Here's my parenting tip for the day: You know how all the experts/other mothers/doctors/strangers on the street tell you to "pick your own battles"?

Well, when your 2 year old son wants to put the ketchup on his plate all by himself, that is a battle you want to pick.

Ketchup will end up in his hair. And on the table. And on the yellow kitchen walls. And on his sister. And on you.

Girls: 2, Boys: 1

We are having a baby girl! We can't wait to meet her in July!

Boy or Girl?

~
To say I don't like surprises would be the understatement of the year. (And since we are only one week into the new year, that's saying a lot.)

I'm almost 12 weeks pregnant and I'm going crazy -- I want to know if I'm having a boy or girl. I want to know right now. Which is pretty difficult, because a doctor can't tell with an ultrasound until about week 18.

But still... I am positively twitchy to find out. And then I remembered something a friend gave me as a gift when I was pregnant with my son: INTELLIGENDER.

Basically, its a pee test you can take as early as 10 weeks. You pee in a cup that has magic crystals in it, and if your pee turns a grayish orange, you are having a girl. And if your pee turns a grayish green, you are having a boy.

When I was pregnant with my son, my pee turned black and bubbly and fizzed out of the cup. I contacted Intelligender to ask if that meant I was having a demon. They told me no, I was having a boy. (Although, some days with my son, I think my demon thought is fitting...)

Anyway, I wanted the Intelligender test. But it costs a small forture ($25 at Target, $35 on their website), and it's not a doctor approved test; it's just for fun. They claim to be about 90% right on their website. Discussion boards claim they are about 60% right. So my husband looked at me like I was nuts when I asked for it.

"Twenty five dollars for a test that is basically fifty-fifty?" he asked me in shock. "No way - you can wait until the ultrasound. We both can."

HOWEVER, Santa must have heard my wish, because there it was: an Intelligender test in my Christmas stocking! And I was 10 weeks along Christmas morning, perfect! I ran to the bathroom to take the test.

I saw green gray for a boy.

My husband saw orange gray for a girl.

Damn it.