Posted in parenting, personal

A year ago today

On Wednesday, February 24, 2010 I visited my OB in hopes that the ultrasound I had the previous day estimating my baby at ten and a half pounds and an exam would necessitate me taking a trip to the hospital to be induced.

My hopes were granted.

Dilated to 4/5 cm, I went back to work, tidied my desk, said my goodbyes to my students and co-workers, called my husband and mother-in-law, and then drove to the hospital and admitted myself.  I happily settled in and prepared for petocin and a labor similar to those I experienced with my girls.

Unfortunately, however, the arrival of babies is about as predictable as the children they later become, and I was in for some waiting.  A lot of waiting.  And my poor husband and in-laws were in for some waiting as well.

Luckily I had my trusty iPhone to help kill the time while I was mostly comfortable.

I facebooked.

I texted.

I played scrabble.

I checked my e-mail.

I recharged my iPhone’s battery.

When I was admitted, I met the attending OB who introduced me to the doula who would overseeing my progress.  Kaiser was now employing doulas to lead most uncomplicated labor and deliveries.  And it’s not that I’m against doulas – I’m actually the kinda girl a doula wants…I had two natural deliveries without pain medication prior.  But the longer and more petocin I was getting was not making me friendly or interested in hearing about her missing the grand opening of Whole Foods on Maui.  Luckily I had funny nurses (one of whom was with me when I had my 2nd daughter), and we joked about her until shift change came and they all left me for a new crew.

By the time the next crew came on, I was getting grumpy.  It was night-time.  I was at the maximum allowed dosage of petocin.  I was dilated to 8/9, fully effaced, but baby’s head was not all the way engaged – meaning that there was space still for the umbilical cord to prolapse if my water was broken.  The OB on that shift was basically trying to tell me that I was going to have a C-section.  I tried to convince him to break my water…with the girls, that was the trick.  Once my water was broken, I was fully dilated and ready to push fast.  But Dr. Elbow (that’s what my DH and I called him, long story) was not hearing it.  He told me to “prepare myself” for a C-section.

I was not happy.  I was in pain.  I was tired and hungry (no eating on petocin).  I did not want a c-section.

I noticed this absurd picture on the hospital bed:

 

 

I know the lower part of the bed comes off when it’s “time to push,” but do I need to lose my legs, too?  I mean, I’m here to have a baby…I’ll keep my legs, thank you.

 

It cheered me up a little, until Dr. Elbow came back.

 

I don’t like Dr. Elbow.

 

But then he left, and then my savior came!  Dr. Song.

 

When Dr. Song came on it was most likely the 25th already.  She reviewed my progress and told me she wanted to try to break my water while a nurse pushed on my belly forcing baby down (to avoid cord prolapse).  She explained everything clearly and prepped me for what would happen if things didn’t go well.  I was already in love with her.  I needed her 12 hours prior.  But I was happy and ready to get a move on.  The procedure was uncomfortable, but successful, and as I predicted, I was fully dilated and insisting it was “time to push” in a very short time.

Because baby was estimated to be 10+ pounds, there were lots of extra people in the room in case baby got stuck or there were other complications during delivery.  Luckily they were only there for the show.  At 3:30am I became the proud mama of my precious baby boy…

Robert David III was (thankfully) a little smaller than predicted – weighing in at 9 lbs 12 oz and 21 in long.

My biggest, and last baby.

He’s as sweet and sweet can be.  Melts my heart.  Loves his Daddy and sisters and dog.  Climbs everything.  Throws everything.  Kisses and hugs and talks constantly.  Not quite walking, but has taken about 5-10 steps.  Sleeps through the night most of the time (knock on wood).

And he’ll be one year old in about 4 hours.

*sigh*

 

I love you baby boy.

Happy (almost) Birthday!

 

And to Dr. Song:

Thank you.  You totally rock.

 

 

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Posted in personal

I’m gonna do it: A post a week!

I’m gonna do it.  Challenge myself to post more frequently – and to help light the fire I’m joining Word Press’ “Post a Week” Challenge.

This is step one.

(I know I’m late starting this challenge, but I’ve been posting more this year already.)

And I want to say thank you to those of you who are reading what I write.  I think it’s super cool.

That’s all for tonight.  See you tomorrow for Wordless Wednesday!

TTFN,

Miss Kriss

 

Posted in parenting

Things My Baby Must Believe # 1: Life is a Musical

My husband and I often laugh about what our baby, Robby D must believe about the world based on his experiences.  His “experiences” are known mostly by their legal names – Trista and Robina, the big sisters.  Trista and Robi themselves crack us up, but watching Robby D interacting with them puts a whole new spin on things if you know what I mean.  Take for example…

Robby D must believe that life is a musical.

 

We love music.  My husband has an incredible voice, he can play multiple musical instruments and our iPods are stacked with more songs than we could ever get through.  BUT none of those things influence the spontaneous singing while playing/eating/bathing/bathrooming/dressing/ect. that happens in my house.   I mean who sings while they’re using the bathroom?!?  I can tell you who – Trista.  She’s the brains behind most of the playing in the house, aka the “boss,” and she can turn anything into a song.  It’s really her special talent, and she’s been doing it since she was a baby – before she could even talk she was singing.  But what I’m talking about is more than just her random singing, it’s singing as part of finely orchestrated playtime.  It’s like the movie “Enchanted” in real life.

Here’s the scene: several My Little Ponies are positioned all over the living room, one is in peril – dangling by her tail near the TV.  The other ponies must join forces and use Robby D’s walker to travel to where periled pony is trapped and rescue her.  Now the singing starts…”Come on sisters…come on friends…we must save so-and-so…her life can’t end!  Jump in our race car…jump in now…we must get there…some way, some how!”  And somehow as this magical song spills effortlessly from Trista’s mouth, Robi instinctually sings along and Robby D bobs and happily pushes his walker magically transporting the ponies to their rescue location.

I guess you have to see it to believe it.  Come over and watch sometime (Trista gets silly when she’s being recorded). Hmmm,  I wonder if our baby will be disappointed when he realizes that the world is not set to music all the time.  Oh well, in our house I guess it can be. Rock on kids, rock on.

Posted in personal

Family, Food & Commercials

Let’s just start out by saying I am not a football girl.  I dutifully watch the UH football games with my family this season and seasons passed, but it’s just not my sport.  I’m getting better at knowing what’s going on, but I have no favorite team or player on the professional level.  I just kinda go with whoever the family likes.

Enter Super Bowl Sunday.  Most of the family was gathering to watch and feast together, and I eagerly participated.  Upon arrival I was asked to pick a team.  “Um, Green Bay, I guess – because green’s my favorite color.”  (Sorry real football fans of the world, I mean you no disrespect)  And the fun ensued.  Chili & rice, tacos, moscato, apple pie, ice cream, shave ice.  It was an afternoon filled with eating, chatting and laughter.

And speaking of laughter, my favorite commercials this year were the “Reply All” Bridgestone Commercial, the “Force” Volkswagen Commercial, and the “Facebook Status” Chevy Commercial. I think it’s so funny how we all stopped to really watch the commercials.  But, I guess that’s part of the Super Bowl magic.  But in all seriousness, I hope all the real fans enjoyed the game.  I know I was entertained, and that’s saying a lot since I’m (as I mentioned earlier) not a “football girl.”

I’d love to hear what your favorite things were about the Super Bowl…come on, leave me a comment!

Posted in Middle School

The Worst Week Ever

It’s amazing how a few bad days at work can wreak havoc on your intentions to be a better blogger.  Monday was bad, Tuesday was worse, Wednesday led to meltdown number one, Thursday I succumbed to meltdown number two, and by Friday I questioned why I was even bothering to come to work.

I was used.

I was conned.

I was lied to.

I was stolen from.

I was dismissed.

I was disrespected.

But I will survive somehow.

I am trying to I WILL take my job back.

Project “work smarter not harder” has begun.  Wish me luck.  I certainly need it.