LOST A SOCK

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I don't know what to say, how to say it, what is appropriate or what is too much.  It's all too much right now.

My Aunt Kath died during the night last night.

I've not shared her story on my website, her three year battle with breast cancer, because I felt that it was her story to tell and always the news, good or bad, was hers.  She always read my blog and whenever we got together she was in the know on what was going on in my life.  It is always so humbling when someone takes interest in you like that.  She left comments from time to time, and in a while I will hunt for them.  The pink breast cancer ribbon in my sidebar is hers.

 

Wicked, August 2008

We had become a fine fun group, my Aunt Kath and my mom, my sister Sant and her girlfriend Leslie.  It was good, and it made me happy.  It made her happy too.

 

She fought her metastasizing disease bravely through the stages, through every God-forsaken organ it spread to, right to the end.  She fought for her life and for her family.  More than anything she didn't want to leave her boys.  She won't.

We kept up with knowing her treatments and what tumor marker number she was at.  Ironically, and hitting so close to home, the test I just went through last week.  My mom, Sant, Leslie and I spent the day with her on Sunday after she was admitted to the hospital.  We discussed Jon and Kate and painted her fingernails and her toes.   The girls and I snuck out to the car while she rested and demolished a bag of chocolate chip cookies.  (Not that that has anything to do with anything, but it gets honorable mention just the same.) 

 

She lost all of her hair through radiation and chemotherapy, and also her taste buds and appetite, and she lost weight.  Her voice quieted and her mobility tapered.  Cancer is the most unimaginably violent disease.  It doesn't have to say a word. 

Thankfully, my Aunt Kath hung on to her sass and her zest and would still happily inform you when you were being a pain in the ass, even if she could only say it quietly.  The rear window of her SUV displays the little boy peeing, like you sometimes see him pee on Ford or Chevy.  Her little guy pisses on the word Cancer.  In pink, even. 

I thought, when we left her on Sunday night, that we would see her again the following weekend.  Then the next afternoon when her CAT scan results came back they let us know that she had only about a month left.  It wasn't that we were unaware of how bad she was; it was just still so hard to believe.  And then when everyone had gone home to rest, late last night, she slipped away quietly.

My Aunt Kath was fun loving and happy.  She worked in Special Education at a Middle School up until last fall, and she loved her job like most people hope to love theirs.  She didn't stop working until she practically couldn't walk into the school building anymore.  At only fifty-two years old she leaves her husband of thirty-two years, and her sons Danny and Jonathan, twenty-two and twelve.  She leaves all of us, for a while at least.

 

And she will be missed.

Heads I win, Tales you lose

I painted with the kids again today.

This may sound like No Great Accomplishment to some, but whenever I manage to pull off this monumental task with three active little kids I always get the feeling that I Win At Motherhood.  At least until someone begins flipping paint onto my decent shirt and wipes Deep Sea Blue on my hanging white bath towels.  Or when I turn around to find Little Miss Exersaucer four inches behind me sucking on the plastic garbage bag from the paper recycle can.  Then, Hey! I Suck At Motherhood.  (But look!  Art, accomplished!)

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Times have been rough here, lately.  We took a chance in a really big way a while back (which, in our defense, was not presented as "A Chance" back then, but rather "Incredible Opportunity Which Would Be Completely Crazy To Pass Up") and it is in mid-stages of imploding.  I've got approximately four people whom I can vent my heartaches to, and of course the internet is off limits for now.  My mind has been racing through our days over the last week or so, and by dinnertime I am dying to get the kids in bed so I can have a good cry already.  I want them to feel secure, and shelter them from grown-up worries as best I can.  You've felt this, right Internet? 

This may get worse before it gets better.  I choose to hold onto hope when it is honest, and panic as needed.  (Where needed equals often.)  I would love to believe that the best case scenario will play out here, but I have no way of knowing what will happen in time.  I know we will get through it somehow, though, because nothing lasts forever.  We do not fail until we give up (but we do constantly worry until we feel adequately sick.)

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Attempting to witness the action, Jack managed to pee in his own hair today.  Newly potty trained boys can be dangerous.  I wiped his head on the painted blue bath towel.  Good enough until bath time tonight.

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Our house-buying renters have sworn to us that they will carry out an entire one year contract if we are willing to offer it.  Selling the house at this moment is sure financial ruin; renting it for another year is only possible demise.  Dare we believe them?

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Though I've not been documenting it here, I have lost thirty of the fifty pounds I gained during my pregnancy with Marin.  I finally feel like I am getting somewhere.

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This morning I made appointments for my ovarian tumor re-check and a root canal.  I scheduled them for the same afternoon, back to back.  That should be fun, no? 

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I am so grateful to be thirty.  I never could have handled all this shit at once, at twenty-five.

Do Over

I thought for sure on Monday morning, when I finally cut ties with this website, that I would finally feel a great sense of relief - finally, one less thing on my plate.  I had been considering it, honestly, for months already.  I hated the way my kids were put on hold and things around the house were neglected so I could crank out an entry several times a week, and I concluded that if I gave this one thing up it would allow me more time to scrape play-doh from every surface in my kitchen. 

My relief did not come, though. 

Instead, I've been so, so sad.

I have been thinking about it constantly - about how I can do this better, and how I might be able to publish something that I actually have time to proof read.  I've considered a new color scheme or layout, and I've given a lot of thought to how I might work time for this in differently (and the answer is, in between the 2am and 5am feedings, before the kids are up at 6:30 and the race for Not Late To Kindergarten begins, gah gah gah.)  

So instead of giving up blogging, I think now I will just get rid of the kids and the house instead.  For sure, that will solve my conundrum.

This is my Take Me Back, Baby entry.

Maybe what I need to say instead of goodbye, is that, DAMN, motherhood can be really freaking hard sometimes.  I want the absolute best for my kids, and I've figured out that, at least, means more of my time and undivided attention.  I want to live in a house with fairly clean floors and home-cooked nutritious dinners where there is infinitely less television watched than imagination exercised.  I want all of us to be readers and learners and to mostly get along.  I want outdoor time and weekly trips to the zoo and financial security.  And I have almost all of that, because I work really, really, holy crap, reeeeeally hard at it. 

But I also need time to myself and time to rejuvenate, and therein lies the lack.  I need time to write here and elsewhere, and for taking pictures and to pound my feet on the treadmill and to enjoy a book in between all of the laundry folding, bill paying, butt-wiping and grocery shopping. 

Maybe this is something I'll never figure out - how to get it all right.  Maybe what I need to accept is that I can get it mostly right and we'll still be okay.  (Will we?)

There was a good rythm to myself with two children every day.  The naps were figured out, the laundry was less, I had enough hands, eyes and ears, and I was finally returning to nice chunks of night-time sleep with children ages five and two.  We didn't see much of Kevin, but we were doing okay and making what we could of the time we had with him each week, because I could easily keep the nitty gritty under control while he was at work.

Then when Marin came along last September everything with our house sort of flopped on its head.  I tried from the first moment to get a grasp on how I was going to do this, because I had no choice.  And it has gotten easier over time, thankfully, but easier in a way that is not easy, you know?  It's not Marin, God help me don't think I blame my baby.  It's like mountain climbing with three backpacks strapped to you, just when you've built up the muscle required for two. 

Growing pains, right?

So long story short, I have no real plan, still.  (Ta-daa!)  I have concluded, however, that having this thing in my life makes me not sad, and a not sad mom is good for my kids, even if it means they've clocked an extra hour of damn Spongebob Squarepants against my better judgment.  I don't know how I will keep everything going once we begin homeschooling (because ohhh, we're going to!) but that can be a bridge we cross once our toes reach the first wood plank.  Or probably the third.

And next came 09, all fabulous and fine

Off the cuff I thought it would be a great idea to create a two-part blog entry regarding the years past and to come.  And once I decided to tally up 2008 in numbers, it was quite the easy write.  But the part I really didn't think through was the 2009 entry.  Because now that I have been kicking it around in my brain for a few days?  Cold feet. 

The nerves, I'm sure, have to do with the fact that my major focus this year will be on spirituality, which is my biggest priority, and in the same, something I'm just not ready to talk much about here.  And then too, though I've got my 2009 vision board displayed on my wall at home for all to see, I feel that my goals are something personal - something I'd rather not defend should I be called upon.

But in the name of authenticity, and sharing for the sake of What've I Really Got to Lose? let's throw some year-to-come goals out there, shall we?

I've created several vision boards in the last handful of years because I tend to be a visual person, and seeing my goals help me to focus on and acheive them.  Before tossing any read magazine at the recycle bin, I always take a pair of scissors to it and clip out pertinent and inspirational lines and pictures to be saved for later use on one of my boards, or to be taped to my fridge, bathroom mirrors or in the shower.  (Hi, I'm a magazine clippings junkie.)

My board for this year incorporates many different parts of my life including my marraige, family, house, hopes for upcoming travel, projects, spirituality, finances, material items I'd like to see make their way into my life, and things I need to remind myself of.  Keeping in mind that it takes just as much energy to dream a big dream as it does to dream small, I always attempt to stretch myself a bit when I make a vision board. 

(I do so love making these, and can't believe I've never shared one here before.  And also?  I can totally believe I've never shared one here before as I already find myself looking for the exit.)   

 

So, uh, my year to come on 28x22 foam board.  

I chose two words to focus on this year- Sincerity and Abundance.  With the first I hope to overcome some of my awkwardness by putting myself out there instead of the uncomfortable front I tend to put up with some my personal encounters.  I look to be more authentic this year, projecting who I really am and what I am moving towards instead of what appears to be most accepted at certain times.  And in focusing on my second word, Abundance, I plan to grab hold of everything life has to offer instead of putting limits on myself and my little family.  I learned in 2008 that if God is in me, and if God is in everything and everything in God, then I am not separated from anything I need- unless I allow myself to be.  I really want to put that understanding into practice this year.

The easy goals to share are that I want to paint a few rooms (surprise surprise) of my house this year (this weekend) and lose my baby weight, finally drive across the country on our Colorado-bound vacation, read, read and read, and teach my big kid to ride a two-wheeled bike.  I hope to finally have a major camera upgrade this year, and continue beading bracelets, pay off the lesser of our cars and keep ourselves on the right financial path. 

I look at my board when I get up in the morning as my alarm blares, as the baby fusses and my kids need to be dressed and fed for our race to kindergarten.  I try to find time to look at it intermittently throughout the day as I pass through my room and for a more prolonged time before I work in some afternoon quiet time, even if only little, for myself.  Having something physical like this helps to keep me centered and reminds me that if I am going to be a good provider for my family, I first need to care for myself.  I hope to never lose sight of that.

One of the major nasties for me in 2008 was my fifty pound (plus) weight gain.  Obviously it came from spending the entire year pregnant and then recovering from being pregnant, but just the same when you work so hard for so long at something that you always believed to be completely out of reach (by which I mean losing nearly one hundred pounds after Jackson was born) then finally acheive it only to have it torn down, it is incredibly difficult to handle, on levels even I did not expect it to be.  I dragged myself through the first month of post-baby dieting in November, and I really do mean dragged most days, until I gave up a bit before Christmas.  I then spent the next three weeks ingesting nothing but sugar day and night, most days until I felt physically sick.  I knew it could not go on forever, and recently I had to look myself in the mirror and ask what it was I really wanted.  I honestly love myself, and if it is spoonful after spoonful after cookie dough that is really going to make my life happy and complete, then fine, let's have it.  Call it a day and be fat if I can honestly reconcile that is where my joy is. 

But I knew that wasn't the answer.  I want my health and my energy back, and I want to be a good example for my children.  I had a good cry and promised myself that I would do this in baby steps, beginning three days ago, and I have. 

 

You may have seen in the forever-surplus media coverage that Oprah too, who is one of my personal idols, is again tackling her weight gain.  And it makes a difference to know I am not alone and that I am not the first or the only person to fail myself in something that was important.  I was very sad, and I still am, that I am back here again.  The baby steps, right?

Minimally, I feel like I have good momentum for this year already.  I expect that I will grin as I look at this board a year from now and know that I gave it my best shot, and mostly succeeded.  Pregnant years tend never to be my personal best, so I've got energy to spare on all fronts.

 

The proof being in the pudding for getting off to the right start as Kevin and I attended Dr. Wayne Dyer's movie premier in Chicago a few nights ago and actually tracked down and met the man.  (I almost died, I did, and then I realized that he is exactly as I thought he should be- the most humble and real person one could ask to meet, and probably one of the most influential guru's in Kevin's and my spiritual life.)

Oh 2009, the hopes I have for you.  

Ohhhhh Eight

With having Jack's birthday right there as we ring in each new year, I noticed that I've not ever written a Year In Review post or a Herrrrrre's What's To Come entry on this website -- even though I am actually a mite bit obsessed with a huge fan of reflecting on the past and planning for the future.  So if you'll allow me to drag the new year celebration on for just a bit longer (sure you can drink champagne while you read) we can take a quick look at my year past, and later the one to come.

When I think about 2008, now that we are all of six days into 09, I need a good cry.  Every time.  First I want to weep big crocodile tears of sobby sadness for the hard road that was last year, then some tears of joy and gratitude, and then back for a good long cry of relief.  We made it through 2008.  And frigging hell it was TOUGH.

I think 2007 was one of those years that makes the surrounding ones pale in comparison.  I felt most myself in 2007.  I had a ton of energy and on paper we really accomplished a lot.  We went lots of places and moved to a new house, Kevin took on a new job and I painted and redecorated and just felt healthy in so many ways.  I assumed that 2008 would be a continuation of the year previous and I could spend the rest of my life gleefully hopping around with two kids Enjoying Every Damn Thing (once we sold that pesky house, of course). 

Why hello Morning Sickness, where did you come from?

As can be imagined, I learned a lot this year.  I learned a lot about patience, and grace, and flexibility.  We chucked our plans for selling our old house and rented it out.  We chucked our plans for being a two-child family and opened our hearts to our new baby.  I chucked my plans for finishing my weight loss and for happily vacationing, and we put off every major purchase possible.  Some things really fell to shit, and some of them were rebuilt.  Some things I will never be able to discuss here, but, well, they played a large factor in The Crazy that this year was also.  I'm glad to see the year come to an end.  I'm grateful for all of the opportunities for learning that I was presented with, and I hope I came away understanding everything I needed to.  And my word, I am thankful for my happy sweet-smelling baby that came from this year. 

So here we go - 2008 In Review - In Numbers.

In 2008...

• I mowed zero lawns, dragged garbage cans to the curb only once, and shoveled snow only twice.  Ahh pregnancy, alas I find your perks. 
• We had 2 baby showers, 15 ultrasounds, 1 surgery, 1 tumor removed and 1 reproductive organ lost.  This year my body happily grew 1 beautiful six pound baby and I continued my long-standing career sabbatical to stay home, care for and educate 2 equally wonderful and energetic little boys (and then 1 adorable baby girl).
• In 2008 I consumed 467 pounds of cookie dough followed by a close second, 462.5 pounds of every variety of fresh fruit, canned fruit, fruit flavoring and fruity smelling non-fruit fruit.  I drank only 1/3 as much coffee as I would have, hosted 6 parties in our home, consumed 2 alcoholic beverages and gained 50 pounds (the calories in the alcohol, I tell you!)
• I changed approximately 4000 diapers in 2008, washed at least 1500 loads of laundry, had 2 houses flood, 1 roof leak, and 2 vacuums died.  I painted only 1 room in 2008, hid from 1 tornado, stepped on 984 legos, pinched 1 nerve in my upper back and fell down the stairs once in the middle of the night (and tore the thermostat out of the wall in the process, way to go on doing nothing half-assed.)  I blew my nose 14,982,227 times through the course of 17 colds. 
• In 2008 I ran the dishwasher at least 365 times and washed approximately 4 dishes by hand.
• Major purchases were limited to 1 larger vehicle, 1 winter coat, 1 television and innumerable pink baby sleepers.  This year we purchased 3 DVD's, no CD's, our first video game system as a married couple, and 1 video game.  I purchased 1 pair of shoes this year and no purse.  This year we went to no concerts, no movies, 1 musical, and paid 18 mortgage payments out of our savings veins pocket. 
• Holding strong, we managed to fully fund 1 IRA, rebuild our savings and close out the year without 1 dollar of credit card debt. 
• I read 2 books that influenced me in a major way, meditated at least 100 times and attended church only twice in the middle of an incredible spiritual journey.  I learned 2 very important lessons in 2008, watched my favorite documentary at least 20 times and claimed my personal stake as 1 huge History Channel Dork.
• I learned to love, appreciate and accept this 1 body that serves me whether it is baby-filled, overweight, well cared for or otherwise.  I quietly celebrated my 11th anniversary with Kevin, proud of its fruits, proud of what it took to arrive there.
• In 2008 we took no vacations but made our way into 4 neighboring states, attended no weddings, 1 wake, no funerals, 1 baptism, countless birthday parties.  I helped coordinate 2 classroom parties and rode a school bus 3 times.
• We scheduled 1 vasectomy and cancelled 1 vasectomy, no longer convinced that two 3 is our magic stopping number.  (Possibly I don't mind changing 4000 diapers a year as much as I think?)  I underwent 1 tumor regrowth check to find myself still tumor free and cancer free, hopefully forevermore, at least until February. 
• I kept up with 67 blog feeds, wrote 144 blog entries of my own and took more than 8200 pictures.  I read more than 1000 children's books, (mostly) potty trained 1 little boy, and taught my 2 boys about charity, hands-on, in 3 ways this year.  I made two sets of curtains, six pillows and my first quilt on my gramma's sewing machine.
• I mailed out 72 Christmas cards this year, and excitedly received 46. I was awful about responding to emails.
• In 2008 I sang hundreds of songs, cried more tears than I care to count, smiled thousands of genuine smiles and thanked God hundreds of times for all that we are blessed with.  Even when those blessings are wrapped up in an easy-to-exit year like 2008.

Peaks and Valleys

One year ago,

 

I had just completed painting our new house.  

   

And was still doing whatever I could to sell our old house.

 

One year ago we were learning how to swing two houses and their respective payments and upkeeps, while attempting to still have a Christmas.

 

One year ago we were shoveling the snow at our new house, and then at our old house.

 

Six months ago my shock was turning to complete excitement.  

But we were pulling out our hair wondering how we would swing it all, with two houses and a new baby.

 

Five months ago we concocted a new plan. 

It was pretty much our only option, and our hope to climb out of the hole we had been digging.  We were so nervous about whether it would work out, whether it was the right decision, whether we had what would be required of us to try moving forward, second house still in tow.

 

Today we have a happy, chubby-cheeked almost three month old baby who is a dead ringer for her Daddy.  We have spent the last five months re-gaining our footing and taking a breather from the stresses of day-to-day caring for two homes. 

Today we have no doubts that we made the best decision for what has happened with the economy, to hang on to the old house until its value returns. 

Today I shoveled snow at only one house, and I did not give a second thought to how we would afford a nice Christmas this year. 

Today is the first of the month, and when our renter came by to drop off his rent payment in our mailbox, he called from the end of our driveway to ask if I'd like him to run it to the front door so that I wouldn't have to trudge through the snow later, to retrieve the check from the mailbox. 

Several weeks ago they brought home their new baby to our old house-- their current home, and several weeks from now they will celebrate their first Christmas there as a family of four.  Today I realized again, as I have many times over the last five months, that we have been blessed with the absolute best case scenario. 

We really are finally okay.

Choose Your Own Adventure

I have been trying for days to figure out exactly which of my seventeen personalities should post to this terribly neglected website.  Should it be The Overtired?  She Who Self-Medicates With Bag After Bag of Chewy Chips Ahoy Cookies?  Possibly Super Laundry Girl (who gets as far as folding and then allows eight baskets of clothes to build up and be picked through on her bedroom floor for at least a week,) or maybe you'd prefer to hear from Riddled With Guilt Mom, which has been the personality of choice these days.

This is normal for five weeks postpartum, I suppose, to feel pretty okay, and then no more than an hour later have a complete mental meltdown over tossing yet another unhealthy dinner onto the table, way to go super-mom (rhymes with Shmurger Fling, but wait! A-ha! Apple Fries! Nutrition at last!)  Or to be driving to the outlet mall, finally alone, forgiving oneself for being So Not Ready to work on losing the remaining forty-ish pounds of baby weight, and then find myself back in my car after only The Gap, bawling because my God did I really just hunt for that size after working so hard to lose so much weight a couple years ago?  And also, I already missed my baby.

These days are pure crazy. 

I did try to pick up the pace late last week, though, and packed everyone up and headed out to the pumpkin farm (with the help of two girlfriends in tow, of course.) 

So, uh, my camera batteries died ten minutes into the fun and the entire experience shall now be chalked up to, Look, We Done Sat On A Red Tractor That October. 

This picture is titled Mama Had To Get Out Of The House So We Drove Up To Michigan To See Orange and Yellow Trees.

Drove and drove and drove, thanking my lucky stars that the boys are good travelers, and Marin remains fairly happy in the car unless it comes to a stop for any reason whatsoever.  Just keep moving.  Keeeep moving and look at the pretty fall colors.  Keeeeep, keeeeeeep moving, you fools.

And if we must exit the vehicle, this is the easiest thing to do in Michigan, or anywhere, with children ages six, two and one month, and one teetering-on-the-edge mother: eat ice cream. 

 

This is the yellow tree I was in love with, which made me feel All Better And Even Normal for a few minutes while I took eighty-seven pictures of it.  

Eighty-eight.

Eighty-nine?

   

Back home, back to that part about the moving again.  Just keeeeeeep her moving.

 

KJ's Spongebob Square Pants addiction is to Marin's movement addiction, though somehow I can deal with one much easier than the other.  (Good gravy he looks So Six Years Old.)

And as for the middle one?  (How strange it still seems to me that he is my "middle one," by the way.)  He's plum goofy, and as long as he's happy, I'm happy.  Even if it means tossing him into the recycling just for kicks.  And see how happy he is there?  Plum goofy, I tell you.

Slowly

I think it is finally safe to say that we've turned a corner.  Turned the corner and then sat down for a rest on the nearest doorstep, but turned it nonetheless.

Your recent comments and supportive emails lifted me up and helped me to feel better in a way that I could not have imagined, and without going completely cheesy-weepy on you all, thank you, for everything you shared with me and for giving me a break when I wasn't in a place to give myself one.

As if it isn't painfully obvious, I am my own worst critic.  Sometimes I think it's a good thing because I push myself to do all kinds of things that I might not otherwise attempt.  But not in this case, I am learning.

After my last entry I decided I had to try a new approach to this Handling Everything process.  I can't really say what the new approach is, but I can tell you that it involves daily naps.  When Jack goes down in the afternoon, after Marin has been fed, but not before I've showered or folded laundry, I set KJ up on the Wii and lay down with the baby on my chest, and sleep.  I've been averaging three to four hours per night, and up to two hours in the afternoon (if you can imagine KJ's delight with that kind of game time) and the daytime sleep has made a great difference in my ability to get through the very long days and nights.

To add to the growing list, Marin was diagnosed with Acid Reflux disease this week (just as both KJ and Jack had -- at least I am an old pro at this one) which is very much a contributing factor to her inability to get asleep and stay asleep during the night.  Generally speaking, once I lay her down she begins spitting up, wakes up, and we begin the rock to sleep process all over again.  Daytime sleep comes easier for her since it usually happens on my chest or in her swing or bouncy seat, all of which keep her upright.  The night sleep is headed in that direction as well, achieved best by both of us when I'm in a partially upright position on the couch with her on my chest.  Is not Whatever Works every new mom's best mantra? 

I am comforted by the fact that she continues to gain weight, making it to eight pounds two ounces at just shy of a month old, and I am hoping for good things from the Prevacid she started yesterday.  Her next round of kidney appointments begin soon, but I'm trying not to think about it for the time being.

Last but not least, I've been trying to take care of myself a bit more, with everything from a haircut and almost daily showers, to arranging to meet with a new OB/Gyn who will monitor me for any tumor regrowth and hopefully put my mind a bit more at ease with that whole situation.  I've also begun driving KJ to school every morning as opposed to walking him to the bus stop, and the getting out with all three, even in small doses, is raising morale.

I can hardly believe we've made it to one month already.  Temperatures outside are cooling down, the leaves are beginning to change, and finally it is my favorite, favorite, favorite time of year.  May the fall be especially good this year. 

With the raining and the pouring, both literally and figuratively

So it steadily poured rain in our area for something like two and a half or seventeen days recently, and our town received 9.95 inches. 

On Sunday morning we woke up to the sump pump running non-stop, again, but thankfully keeping up with what was coming in, blessing us with a dry crawl space and lower level family room this time around.  Phew.  Unfortunately, we were not so lucky with the kitchen ceiling, again, which happily gave us a taste of what Mother Nature had going on in the out of doors that day.  You know, the claim with our insurance company that I canceled three weeks ago because they wanted to tear my kitchen apart just before I was to deliver a baby, and for sure I thought it was a One Time Deal - a mere mistake - my leaky kitchen ceiling under the almost new roof.  Let's see how State Farm feels about a changed my mind phone call in the coming days, eh?  (Right after they deal with The Other Claim I made yesterday, just wait.)

Later that same morning we received a call from The Renters - the basement had water - not only leaking in through the hundred year old brick basement walls (as always with heavy rains) but also rushing up through the floor drains down there.  Kevin headed over to assess the situation, and after a few hours of craftily utilizing Aquafina bottles to create vacuums in drains, the problem was as under control as one could ask for in that house.

By Monday morning we thought for sure things would calm down and drain down, although we'd heard that there were nearly no open roads through which we could pass.  Luckily my mom and dad made it up to our house on Sunday night so that my mom could stay the week and help me just as she'd been planning, but early Monday morning we found out just how impassible our roads were.  Kevin called at 5am to tell me he'd driven through a puddle and the car stalled out.  (And herein lies The Other Claim.)

A thirty foot long puddle by forever wide by two and a half feet deep, and the car was dead.  In the middle of this...puddle. 

(Really, he called it a puddle on the phone.  I could not figure out, for the life of me, how a puddle could possibly kill a Ford Explorer.  And then it all made sense when I pulled up in our other vehicle, and my husband exited his vehicle, leaving shoes and socks inside, dress slacks rolled thigh-high, laptop bag safely harnessed around his neck to wade out through knee-deep water.  It was a bit more than a puddle.)

It took forever to find a tow company who was even willing to try to get the car out, for no less than the value of my right arm, and now it sits in front of our house waiting to be towed to the site of either its repair or its declaration of doom. 

In spite of the two major expressways around us being shut down (due to flooding, of course) I did manage to get him all the way to work yesterday morning, and he's been commuting via trusty ol' train ever since.

So this is our town, as of late yesterday afternoon.

This is the street we drive up and down forty-seven times a week, and the dark green rectangle-looking thing in the middle of all that water?  Would be the top of an enormous National Guard vehicle who tried to make it through.

This is the rear of our local library, where my mother-in-law works, which has been sandbagged for more protection in spite of the five feet of water that is filling it.  Actually, what you're looking at is the parking lot, and the lake itself normally has a pleasant brick walking path around it, all the way out past the light posts.

These light posts.

And the apartments and businesses nearby, and the roof of another car parked there.

It is safe to assume that the lake in the middle of our downtown area didn't have the room for all the rain that came down, though now things are becoming more serious and all are hoping the dam will hold.  Schools have been closed for two days now, businesses and homes are under water, and it's unbelievable to think that this is where I live, not something I'm seeing on the news from far away.

To add insult to injury, I also spoke with baby Marin's doctor late yesterday.  The obstruction to her kidney is pretty severe, unfortunately, and surgery is in her not-too-distant future.  He would like to give her a few more weeks to grow since she is so tiny, and then in the second week of October she will undergo the MAG-3 test I mentioned in my last entry, followed by another Renal Scan the next day, and then decisions about when to schedule surgery.  More than anything - more than the water, the damn car, the anything else that could possibly plague us, please do keep her in your prayers.

Winding road

Well, we're home.

We actually arrived home late last night after a long, wonderful and equally horrible, three days in the hospital.

As Bree said (thanks Bree!) Marin Ann was born at 8:04am on Friday, September 5th by c-section.  She weighed 6 pounds 4 ounces and was 18 inches long.  We were so happy to welcome her into the world.

Everything leading up to the c-section went okay, with little sleep beforehand, but also very little panic beforehand as well.  Just after I was able to kiss my baby girl for the first time, she was whisked off to the nursery with her daddy in tow, while I was to be closed up and recovered.  Unfortunately, in that finishing-up process my doctor discovered a rather large tumor on my left ovary, and ended up taking most of the ovary during the removal process.  (Is this not completely from out in left field?  I can't believe I'm typing it.)  It was sent down for an immediate biopsy, and so we waited, thankfully Kevin and my family and friends completely in the dark about any of it, for twenty or so minutes to know whether it was cancer.  The preliminary results came back as benign, thankfully, and the doctors and nurses in the operating room with me actually cheered when the news came back.  We are still waiting for an official report, but I expect that things should be fine.

So my quick surgery ended up taking infinitely longer, as did the recovery time downstairs.  And as we headed up to what I thought would be finally holding my baby, I found that she was being kept in the nursery for oxygen and monitoring.  Really, I figured it couldn't be much of a big deal - mainly because she was a c-section baby and hadn't finished getting all of the fluid out of her lungs.  We just waited.

Several hours later, we called the nursery to check on Marin again and they reported that she was being given fluids through an IV since she couldn't take anything orally with the oxygen on her face. 

A short time after that, the oxygen was removed and the IV was being kept only as a precaution.  But they still wanted to monitor, so I was still not allowed to see her.  And we waited more.

I was really beginning to get anxious about not having the opportunity to bond with my baby, now eight hours into her life, but the nurse casually informed me that I could not have her until she was bathed.

Bathed.

Guys, it was seriously getting out of control.  The nursery staff had really been getting frustrated with me because of my asking about the baby, how she was and when I could have her.  Eventually I really lost it, sobbing my heart out because I couldn't believe I'd given birth to her eight hours ago and was not allowed to see her over something that was so simple, completely rectified, and a bath.

Finally they brought her down to me, and I was able to hold her for a very brief ten minutes. 

It was a mass of bliss and frustration, but they took her right back to the nursery for more monitoring, more irritation with my checking up on her, more with not being allowed to see her.  I saw her again at 9pm for ten minutes, and then again at 5am. 

Somewhere in mid-morning I was chewed out on the phone by a nurse for not just letting them take care of her, since that was my third check-in phone call since nine the night before.  I was told not to call again until the neonatologist contacted me personally, and that from now on if I wanted to see my daughter I had better figure out how to get out of bed and come down there.

Against my better judgment I did get out of bed, in an unbelievable amount of pain, and walked down the hall to hold my baby.  Of course when I got down there they would not let me hold her at all, but would only allow me to touch her as she lay in her isolette.  At this point she had on two chest leads and an oxygen saturation monitor on her foot.  Certainly nothing that should prevent her being held, but by now they were terribly aggravated with my insistence to see the baby.  I asked for a chair, the nurse pushed over an armless computer chair on wheels.  I asked for something more sturdy (hi, this was the first time I'd been out of bed after surgery) and she plopped a pillow on the back of the chair. 

I sat with my baby and cried and cried again.  I couldn't believe this was happening.  There were no answers as to why she was being kept in the nursery now twenty-seven hours after birth and why she could not be held - only instructions to sit there and wait for the neonatologist.

Finally the neonatologist arrived and I asked about all the monitoring, and when I would be able to take her to my room.  She told me that she would be keeping her in the nursery at least one more day because when I'd had her for the short time at 5am, the oxygen saturation lead on her foot came loose and showed a drop from 99 to 75 (they like to keep it above 95.)  I explained that we saw the drop happen and that the minute we wiggled the lead on her foot it began reading correctly again and went right back up to 99.  She agreed that a faulty connection was probably the case, and confirmed that in twenty-seven hours this was the only time a drop had been seen.  And then she told me that, still, she would like to air on the side of caution, and asked me if I cared about the health and safety of my baby.

I was pretty blown away.  I had never imagined anything like this could happen, as everything I've ever read and come to believe says to bond with your child as long as she is reasonably healthy.  I called our pediatrician's office and they told me that their hands were tied - the neonatologist refused to release Marin to her normal doctor's care.

A little while later she was given her kidney ultrasound, and to add insult to injury, we were informed that Marin has severe hydronephrosis of her right kidney and that she should see a specialist immediately.  And she will, this Thursday.

Finally late in the afternoon of the second day, the neonatologist released us to our own pediatric office.  Marin's doctor agreed that there were no breathing issues and that she could come back to our room with us right away. 

I was so happy to finally have my family all together, knowing that things were then and would be okay.

KJ is above the moon (and stars and planets, fyi) about his baby sister, and Jack is very Jack and very two about the entire situation. 

He was really just there for the rubber gloves anyway.

Unfortunately, my persistence for seeing and keeping up with the medical conditions of my child had done harm to my relationship with above mentioned baby nurses, though things seemed to be fine with the OB side.   I've never had problems at all with hospital medical staff before this insane experience, but I suppose if relationships are to go wrong it might as well be over something as important as one's children.

As you can imagine, gaining a reputation for being the pain-in-the-ass mom on the floor (I'd do it again for you, baby) earned us some fantastic care and some fantastic attitude, which brought Kevin and I to the decision that leaving a day early was a must, as long as the doctors were on board. 

And they were,

so we did.

I wish that I could say now that we are now home everything is coming up roses, but obviously there are bumps in the road when it comes to c-section recovery and growing a family.  I'm sure the emotions and the swelling and the noise will all calm down over time, and eventually I'll stop beating myself up over Everything I Did Wrong In Those Early Days, but for tonight I just need some sleep.  And pain pills.

Please forgive me if my blogging is spotty, but for whatever reason I am an emotional wreck and feeling a deep desire to hide away from the world.  Mostly, I'm really tired and hurting, preparing to deal with my daughter's health problem and hopefully nothing of my own, and I've got to learn to swing three kids.  Thank you all so much for your wonderful support.  Reading your comments and emails has meant so much to me.