Monday, March 22, 2010

She's Long-Winded

I tried something different in the crock pot tonight and the reviews were mixed. Come to think of it, it was just Kenny who stuck his nose up at it and that’s nothing unusual. This was just a seasoning envelope I found near the taco seasoning packets and it called for two cans of stewed tomatoes, a can of tomato paste, 8 oz. of sliced mushrooms, and a few pounds of chicken. I served it with some spaghetti noodles, etc. and it was decent. But Kenny just pushed his plate in front of him, folded his arms on the table and put his head down.

I really don’t know what to do about this sort of thing. I mean I could send him to bed without eating, I could insist he eat some (this is the route I go), or let him have cereal or something. I feel he needs to be open to a variety of foods so it does bug me. Apparently it bugged Josh too because when he realized Kenny wasn’t eating he started yelling, “Be manners Kenny! Eat it!” over and over. I think this may have been what prompted him to finally just eat.

I looked in the mirror this afternoon and suddenly realized how stressed out I’ve become over the past few weeks. There is it was on my lower lip; an ugly HSV1 outbreak.

I hate cold sores. Sort of stupid to say; no one likes them. But they’re just so awful. They’re ugly, they hurt, and they come precisely when I want to hang my head and cry. I put on some Abreva and I’ve had good luck with it in the past but right now I can feel the disgusting thing throbbing. It reminds me of our move to New Hampshire back in the Fall of 2000 which reminds me that I meant to continue writing about our time back east. If memory serves, I left off with my flight back to Washington with Michael Jr. to wait for Sierra’s birth and our house to be finished.

Let’s see. I had a while until Sierra was expected to arrive on the scene—we left for Yelm on July 4th and she wasn’t due till late August. Before we left Boston, when I knew I’d be in Washington over the summer, I made a special trip to Newbury Street to a maternity boutique and picked out a little black dress for my 10 year high school reunion. This was before the days of being able to buy nice looking maternity clothes at stores like Target. I was also willing to buy a fake diamond ring too, if necessary because I wasn’t showing up alone, 8 months pregnant without one. As it turned out, my ring fit through this entire pregnancy and I also had almost no back pain troubles. For the record, the birth of each of these boys has been heralded by fat fingers, pitting edema, debilitating back pain, and a posterior exit strategies. Like monkeys! I wonder what the odds are of that.

So anyway, I went to my reunion, had a great time catching up with friends and all that. My parents arranged for me to see a doctor in West Olympia and he agreed to induce me two weeks early. I made the request because it was when Michael could get away from work for a few days. I kept hoping I’d just go into labor before this. Michael Jr. was born almost a month early so it seemed possible. Just didn’t happen. So Michael flew over and we checked into the hospital on the 13th of August and I was given a pill to start the ball rolling. We went to the mall and walked around, spend some time at Barnes and Noble, but by the end of the day, nothing much to show for it. I suppose we should have let Nature takes its course but we didn’t. My doctor decided to hook me up with a Pitocin drip and at that point I knew I was in trouble. I had one with Michael Jr. because when my water broke and hours later nothing was happening, we needed to move forward. I hate this stuff. It does stuff to a uterus I’m sure God never intended. But anyway, I was strapped in for that roller coaster ride again.

What happened next would change the course of the evening a bit. After struggling with serious contractions for awhile, my doctor did an internal check. He looked at me and said, “What I’m feeling is either a cheek or a cheek.” He couldn’t be sure if she was coming out head first or if this was a frank breech situation. An ultra sound was performed and low and behold, she’s coming out rear first and the cord was wrapped around her neck. After explaining the options, we felt the safest bet was a c-section.

This was unfortunate on several levels but the one I remember most vividly was that I’d eaten a tremendous burrito Michael brought me for dinner. That’s sort of a no-no before surgery. The nurse assured me that I’d be seeing it again sooner rather than later and they wheeled me off.

I know that it’s not uncommon for women to schedule c-sections even if perhaps they could have a vaginal birth. I know lots of women have repeat c-sections after an initial, very necessary one. I was never going to fall into either of those categories. This was the grossest thing I’ve ever experienced and had no intention of repeating it unless there was NO other alternative. I can’t express how creepy it felt to have hands inside me, pushing and pulling. No, you can’t feel the pain but you can feel the pressure. It’s like going to the dentist. You can’t feel the pain but you can feel and hear that something is going on. Additionally, staples across the abdomen are a real drag. I consider myself lucky; I was able to have three more births without the need for surgical intervention. I also consider myself lucky because my surgeon was a woman who’d learned a few things from her father-in-law, a plastic surgeon. Not that I’m a bikini wearer but if I was, well, a c-section scar wouldn’t make the Top 10 List of Things I’d Be Embarrassed About.

Wow. I’ve been writing and writing and I’m nowhere near telling the story of my multiple cold sores. Oh well, another day.

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