babyfruit: the miscarriage blog and motherhood diaries

The Bite

Yesterday evening, as we arrived at the gym with NG in tow, I noticed a mark on her arm.

"Honey, does that look like a bite mark to you?"

G. looked down at NG's left arm at a round bruise resembling the upper and lower teeth in a very small mouth.

"Yeah, it does kind of look like a bite mark."

"Baby, did someone bite you here?" I asked.

"Yeah," NG said and nodded.

"Did it hurt?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Did you cry?"

"Yeah," she said and nodded again.

"Who bit you, baby?"

And NG said the name of a little boy in her day care.

"He bit you?"

"Yeah," she said again.

I looked at G. and asked him if anyone at the day care told him someone big NG when he had picked her up. They hadn't said anything to him.

I didn't know what to do. We brought her to the gym's childcare room, and I brought the bruise to the care provider's attention so she didn't think it happened at the gym. Then I asked G. to take a photo of NG's arm.

Then I asked her again, "Did someone bite you here?"

"Yeah," was her reply.

"Did it hurt?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Did you cry?"

"Yeah."

"Do you know who did it?"

And again she said the same little boy's name.

G. and I discussed the situation again over the course of the evening. I was in shock but could feel anger creeping up inside of me. Why didn't the day care tell us?

"Maybe they didn't know it happened," G. said.

OK, that is very possible.

"So how do I handle this?" I asked, having zero experience with being a mother whose child comes home from day care with a very distinct bite mark on her forearm.

"You ask them tomorrow if they know what happened," G. said.

"But do I ask the teacher or do I go to the head of the school?"

"The teacher first. See what she says."

I constantly feel totally inadequate and unprepared as a mother. Just when I figure out something major and feel good about it, a new thing comes along. Oh yeah (thump on the head). That is what parenting is all about.

So I'm wondering: What would you do in this situation? How would you handle it? How would this make you feel?

Baby not so baby

Image via Wikipedia

So many women I know lament how fast their children grow up. Sad than they are no longer infants or toddlers. I'm just getting excited that NG is getting to be a little girl already.

She turned 2 on Friday.

Lame-ass mom that I am, I didn't have a birthday party planned for her, but a good friend of mine had said that she and her son (age 4) would come by. Of course, I didn't get in touch with her until the day before or day of (I no longer remember). But she came through and she and her son joined me, G. and NG at a little amusement park set up in a shopping mall parking lot around 6pm. NG's first amusement park!

NG cried on the Merry-go-round, loved the big slide, didn't mind the ferris wheel, and begged to go on the "Himalaya" which was a super fast ride that just went around and around and around, then did the same thing backwards. My girlfriend offered to take NG on that ride because neither G. nor I thought we could stomach it.

Then we all headed to our house for an impromptu meal of tacos. Of course, I did have cake. NG and I went shopping for both the party decor and her cake earlier that afternoon. I gave her about 7 choices of decor, from Hello Kitty to Smallest Pet Shop to Curious George and even Dora the Explorer. She picked Elmo and some balloons. I grabbed the last small chocolate cake with chocolate mousse filling from the Flying Dutchman bakery, and NG enjoyed the heck out of it. And that was the party.

I was so grateful that my friend and her son were there. I didn't want to relive last year's birthday party when I invited about 8 women and their kids, decorated everything with a safari theme, got NG all dressed up, and basically nobody showed up. (Okay, 1 woman who I didn't know very well showed up with her baby in tow who had a 101 degree fever just to drop off a present; a neighbor who had said she could not make it because she had other plans called halfway through the party to see if it was still going on and came over for a while; and the one person who had RSVPd that she was coming never showed up and when I called to check if she was coming, she said she forgot but couldn't come after all.)

So NG is two.

And today, we converted her crib to a bed.

And then she peed in her little potty.

All in a weekend. Such a big girl!

And other than being a lame-ass mom, I am feeling really proud of her, and I'm enjoying the heck out of her. She's one funny little girl.

I love having some positive things to say in this blog. See, it isn't all gloom and doom.

Accidental Titration, Purposeful Love

Image via Wikipedia

Last night was horrible, and it was entirely my fault.

I forgot to fill my "emergency pill box" with my Effexor. I try to keep it filled and in my purse for those times that I'm away from the house and my little alarm goes off at noon to take my medication.

Yesterday, I was working at a cafe, my alarm went off, and I readed into my purse for my pill box. Empty. Okay, no need for panic, I told myself. I can go a few hours without it, can stay and finish my work, meet with a colleague, then head home to take it, right?

Did some work, had the meeting, then realized the time and had to run to the bank and then to the grocery store to get something to make for dinner. Headed home, got dinner started, and went back to work until G. got home with NG.

I was teaching a class on blogging in the evening so wolfed down some dinner, then hugged G. goodbye.

"Hug! Hug!" NG exclaimed. G. and I looked at each other with surprise. She hadn't really asked for a hug like that before. I went over and gave he a big hug and she giggled. Ah, that was nice.

Ran out the door, got a little lost on my way to the class, then realized that I had forgotten to take my meds. I called G. and told him.

"Do you want me to drive some over to you at your class?" he asked, worry sounding in his voice.

"No, I'll be okay."

We hung up, and I rummaged through my computer bag, locating a 2nd emergency pill box and shook it. A pill was inside. I called G. back.

"Don't worry. I found one," I told him.

Once at the classroom, I opened the 2nd pillbox only to find a Vitamin D capsule. I took it anyway because it couldn't hurt and maybe it could help.

Then I began teaching the class. At one point, my sinuses began filling up suddenly. I felt this strange pressure in my face and an inability to breathe through my nose. A woman I know who was attending the class gave me a Zyrtec which I took, hoping it would clear me up.

As the class continued, I began to feel a little dizzy and out of it. Must be the Zyrtec, I thought.

Five minutes before I finished teaching, I felt a huge wave of pressure rising from my jaw to the top of my head that kept undulating and hurting more and more. I continued speaking but felt a wave of nausea join in on the undulating pain in my head. Was I going to be sick?

I finally finished my thought and excused myself to the ladies room. Don't get sick. Don't get sick. I thought to myself. By now, I was feeling some disorientation on top of the brain-splitting pain and nausea. My ears were ringing. My heart was racing. Is this what it feels like to die, I wondered. If this is what it feels like, give me morphine, please.

You can get home, I told myself. I went back into the room and everyone wanted to speak with me, ask a few more questions, chat. My head was reeling. I couldn't even tell anyone how terrible I felt because every ounce of my being was focused on standing upright and moving toward the door.

Get home now. Get home now. I gripped my bags and made my way out of the building. Everything was so bright at nearly 9pm but of course it was. This is Alaska in the summer. I made my way to my car, and as I drove home I thought how people I know are concerned that I sometimes talk on my cell phone while driving (not illegal in Alaska). I'd have to say it is far worse to be driving while accidentally titrating off one's medication.

As I drove with my right hand, I pressed the fingers of left hand into my face, trying to relieve the waves of pressure. When stopped at the light, I squeezed the soft spot between my thumb and forefinger, an accupressure point for relieving headaches. I couldn't remember the point for relieving nausea. Driving home was like being on the rough seas in a dingy. Without a life jacket.

I called ahead and told G. that I didn't have my medicine after all and to please have it ready for me. When I pulled up and parked the car, our Black Lab came running up to me and seemed to be helping me get to the house. By now I was feeling like I was moving through a firestorm. Everything was moving the wrong ways, everything was hurting me, everything hurt.

Finally, I made it to the kitchen where my medicine was on the counter. G. brought me a glass of water. NG was sitting on the sofa in the living room calling out to me. I didn't want her to be worried so made my way to the sofa and sat beside her.

"Remember I told you - Mommy isn't feeling well," G. said as he sat back down to read to NG.

NG turned and leaned into me, putting her arms around me. We sat and listened to G. reading, with her holding me like that, for a good 10 minutes. She had never done anything like that before. Then she reached for her favorite blue blanket and pulled it over to me, handing it to me for comfort. I held onto her and held onto her blue blanket and prayed for the medicine to kick in.

After G. put NG to bed, I asked him to look up Zyrtec and Effexor to make sure that I hadn't inadvertently combined medications that should not be mixed. I was feeling so sick that I was worried I was having a bad reaction to something.

I headed to our bedroom, stripped off my clothes and crawled under the comforter in the dark. I could hear G. talking in the other room and found out that he was calling our medical insurance company to see if someone on their help line could help. They couldn't. I think he would have called a doctor or the hospital but I encouraged him to come to bed instead.

Every step he took in our room, every move he made, sent ripples of pain and nausea through me. But I just tried to relax. I took two Advils, hoping that would alleviate some of the pain. How would I get to sleep like this? On top of it all, my sinuses were still so stuffed but it felt weird, like they were swollen shut instead of filled up.

At some point, I fell asleep despite the roiling waves of nausea and excruciating pain.

I woke up this morning feeling hollow, light-headed but pain and nausea free. Frankly, I was happy to be alive.

I'm still a little dizzy and disoriented, but able to read, write and work. I'm going to call my practitioner today and get a followup on the Effexor. I was supposed to take it for 3 months. That extended to a year. And a year is June 30.

What next? I think I am so much better on it than off. But it scares the hell out of me to know what 9 hours without it can do to me.

Oh, and yes, I have filled up my emergency pillbox, and it is safely tucked away in my purse.

And supposedly she came out of my body...

Image via Wikipedia

I'm puzzled, and maybe a bit alarmed, by my latest self-awareness revelation.

The other evening G. asked something to the effect of "Doesn't it just amaze you to think she came out of your body?" Referring to NG, of course.

She came out of my body.

Hmmmm....

I'm sorry, that doesn't compute. I mean intellectually I understand that physically she did come out of my body - and not by cesarean either - but that statement that "she came out of my body" doesn't elicit some kind of awe or emotion per se.

Now don't get me wrong. I have really grown to love NG. I have even found myself telling her that I love her even though she may not yet totally understand the words.

But when I think that she came from my body, it feels so disconnected. I don't have that feeling I've read about that your child is "your heart now living on the outside of your body" or some such sentiment. I feel she is a separate little being, and she is interesting, beautiful, funny and sometimes a pain in my ass. But she came from my body? Yes she did, but what does that really mean?

I look at her and don't see me in her, at least not on a physical level. Her tiny face is such a mini-me of G. that it is uncanny. He says she has my eyebrows. Yes, she does have nicely defined brows unlike his wispy near-invisible ones. But the rest of her is all G.

Attitude-wise, she is my mini-me. She is all stubborn, bossy, demanding, exacting, impatient. Yes, she is more like me on the inside than on the outside. So in a way, I feel more connected to the statement "She acts just like you" than anything else.

Come to think of it - while everyone we encounter anywhere comments on how beautiful she is, they have never once said to me "She looks so much like you." If they see G., they do remark on how she is a spitting image of her Daddy. But never once about me.

That's fine with me. Because I think it is good that she looks like G. since he is damn good looking. And I don't need her to look like me for me to feel more connected to her. Or do I? Would it help if I looked at her and saw my own features? I wonder.

I attribute this feeling of non-connectedness to two things:

1. the major bonding barriers and trauma in our first year while I suffered through post partum depression and she (and G.) suffered along with me;

2. possibly the medication I'm taking. It does take the very jagged edges off my nerves but maybe in the process of evening me out, it blocks some of my more intense feelings - like the feeling of connectedness to my own child.

Again, I love NG. I just don't get some swelling of emotion or hear the music soar when I think that she came out of my body. Maybe intellectually I can admit that childbirth is quite the miracle. But emotionally it just doesn't seem to have done anything for me from a bonding standpoint.

I wonder if I'm broken and if any of this can be fixed.

Baby Resting, Mommy Dying for a Drink

Image by Getty Images via Daylife

OK, does it mean I'm an alcoholic because I've wanted a drink since returning from the hospital at around 1:00 in the afternoon? I haven't had one yet, mind you, but am still eyeing the opened bottle of wine on the kitchen counter.

Baby is resting. I feel compelled to check on her to make sure she is breathing. She did fine in the MRI, as well as can be expected for a 2-year-old who is totally freaked out by her surroundings, the strangers poking needles into her, the machines beeping, the florescent lights - who wouldn't be freaked?

I tried to remain in that middle zone between calm and cheery but think I was more somewhere on the side of quietly hysterical. G. was doing his own freaking out and it turned into a bit of a spat while we waited in the hospital room with NG playing on the floor as the Versed kicked in.

I had pulled out my cellphone to shut it off and decided to do a very quick text message to Twitter where my Twitterfriends were aware of the MRI.

"What are you doing?" G. asked.

I could feel my knee-jerk reaction starting to jerk.

"Are you texting?" G. asked.

"Yes," I said, not offering up any more information because I was in the "why can't I do anything without having him ask me what I am doing and who I'm doing it to" mode.

"Who are you texting?" he asked and mentioned one of my girlfriend's names.

"No," I replied, digging in my figurative heels because I was getting pissy that I always have to explain what I'm doing, who I'm talking to, etc. etc. etc.

Next thing I know, we're bickering. He is telling me how disrespectful I am being for texting in front of him but more importantly for not telling him who I was texting. I retorted that not only was it disrespectful for him to ask me who I was texting, that it was totally inappropriate for him to be picking a fight while we are supposed to be cheery and positive in front of NG and to stop it immediately.

Of course, he did not stop. I think he has some weird trigger inside that once he starts, he just can't stop badgering me - especially when I ask him, then beg him, then order him, then scream hysterically at him to stop.

Luckily, this time I kept my cool and kept saying  "You really just need to stop saying those things right now" over and over in a sing song voice (probably sounding like a totally insane person which is why his next line is usually "obviously your medication isn't working.")

Of course, he did not stop because he needed to get another word in. And he did. Then I reminded him once again to stop. Then he glared at me as if I was totally insane and drew his finger and thumb over his lips in a zipping motion as if to say "you're the one who has to stop talking." So I did and we tried to be cheery and positive for NG but I was seething inside.

Why pick this exact moment to fight? The only explanation I have is that he was so stressed out that everything was freaking him out and the same was happening with me.

Out of character for me, I apologized. I tend not to apologize when I don't feel I'm wrong but am learning that it ultimately doesn't matter who is right or wrong because the apology is the only real key to forgiveness that goes both ways. What a big lesson but a good one. Karma points for that one.

When I apologized, he didn't say anything.

"I said I'm sorry," I pressed on. He finally apologized back which I'm sure he did not want to do because he didn't think he was wrong.

"It is just disrespectful to be on the phone or text someone else secretly in front of someone," he added.

"Disrespect goes both ways," I retorted. He agreed.

All this, I'm sure, in avoidance of the reality that our baby girl was being stuck with an IV needle and hooked up to machines and although drunk on Versed was not enjoying the ordeal one bit.

We headed down to the imaging center. They said one of us could go in and hold her while she was being sedated. I wanted it to be me and didn't want it to be me. I thought I should see as she lost consciousness and be there with her. But I also was afraid to see it.

When G. went to hand her to me, she cried for her Daddy. I had two immediate thoughts:

1. We have to keep her calm and happy and it is okay if she wants her Daddy instead.
2. She doesn't want me but I'm almost glad it isn't me that has to go in.

To keep my mind off of things, I watched television and got to see The Daily Show with Jon Stewart for the first time (we don't have cable). Now THAT is my kind of funny. Then we watched The Colbert Report, also very funny. G. joined me soon after NG was sedated, and we laughed at the political humor.

Within an hour, they were done and she was wheeled back to her room. She reminded me of Sleeping Beauty with her pale translucent skin and delicate features, save the oxygen mask and tubes and cables running into and from her tiny body.

She woke up in fits, was cranky and very unhappy, impatient with the IV in her hand and pulse monitor on her finger, and all around upset about the whole damn thing. Who could blame her? G. held her in his lap as she came out of grogginess and went straight to anger. But she did manage to wolf down some scrambled eggs, waffle, some yogurt and milk.

On the way home, she wanted me to turn around in my seat and hold her hand. Then she wanted crackers and initially refused the Goldfish crackers I gave her. Practically back to her bossy self but with a lot of uncharacteristic crankiness thrown in.

Now she is napping, and I'm thirsty. Wine. Or beer. Beer or wine?

You don't think I'm an alcoholic, do you?

The MRI tomorrow

Image via Wikipedia

NG is getting an MRI tomorrow to make sure that her eye crossing is due to a common disorder called esotropia and not caused by a fall or a tumor or something else.

In order to get an MRI, she has to be put under with general anesthesia.

I've been told the worst part of it all is not the anesthesia and certainly not the procedure but it is putting the IV into her tiny little veins.

For me, the worst part is having zero control over this situation other than not having her go through the procedure which we do not feel is an option. The crossing is more pronounced now.

The MRI is a precautionary measure - not required - but if we do not get it done and go ahead with fixing the crossing but say it was a tumor and not esotropia, then we may not catch something like that in time one her eyes are fixed. That makes sense to me.

Still, I have to wake her early tomorrow morning. She'll think it is time to go to school. We will take her to the hospital. And then she'll get scared.

And I think that is something I find hard to bear. I don't want her to be afraid.

And how am I going to be brave for her? I can feel tears welling up just thinking about this. I think it will scare her even more if I cry.

I know parents endure far worse than this on a daily basis. This is the small stuff in the whole scheme of her life and our lives. It will all be fine.

Right?

Up Late But Feeling Better

What a difference a few days and a therapy session can make. Had to figure out what I needed to do to get a grip on everything. Came away from the session with some excellent advice:

1. Help G. to better articulate what he needs but realize that he may not be able to do so. Then it will be up to me to "fill in the cracks."

2. Our home represents some balance struggles over the last year. Now that it is summer here, spend more time out of the house as a family.

3. Make family our center.

4. Strive for harmony.

Harmony was the exact word I thought of as I drove downtown to my appointment. I just want to know how to have more harmony in our lives.

Fundamentally, I am in the best relationship I've ever been in and could ever dream of. I'm actually not complaining about it at all. I just think we've been through a lot of crap - professionally, personally on individual levels, and together - and we have to work together more than ever to get through it.

I'm just looking for ways to not just cope. I don't want things like NG's upcoming MRI and eye surgery to be a straw that will break the proverbial camel's back. I don't think it will be now - but a few days ago, it seemed likely.

I told G. the basic gist of my appointment and what I got out of it. Somehow, that seemed to help him a lot. I think he needed some kind of reassurance that I'm totally in love with him and committed to making our relationship work - for life. I don't know how he could ever doubt that. But I guess I filled in some cracks by giving him that reassurance. I guess that is one of the things he needs but doesn't know how to ask.

Is it really a Mars/Venus thing? Do guys really think so differently that they can't express how they feel or what they need from their partner?

I'm finding that marriage is like traveling through foreign countries. Nothing is familiar, a different language is spoken practically every day, culture clashes are commonplace, and the food doesn't always sit right in my belly. But I'm fascinated and inspired and committed to traveling every inch of this thing and revisiting the good parts over and over again until the day I die.

Baby's Crossed Eyes Needing Surgery

The Secret to Happiness

Image via Wikipedia

I'm just not doing well today. Can't seem to put my finger on it exactly but let me try. Here is my Top 10 Reasons Why I'm Just Not Up to Snuff list.

10. I kept NG home today because she was fussy, snotty and hacking - the tail end of viral croup. I thought I was doing the right thing for her, but at the same time, it was the wrong thing for me in terms of getting work done.

9. I have several deadlines including a last minute grant submission due by tomorrow and today just was not the day to not be able to get any work done.

8. I have not been able to get any significant work done. So of course, I hop over here to blog, not to avoid work, but to blow off steam. And this post will only take me about 4 more minutes to complete.

7. After a 51 day cycle, I finally started my period on Day 52. I am now on Day 8. This week, I hate being a woman in her 40s.

6. My hair is still falling out. I'm having only bad hair days these days because it is so thinned out. Then I pull it back so at least I look presentable. Then more hair comes out because it has been pulled back all day. Contemplating shaving my head again. Did I mention that I hate being a woman in her 40s?

5. G. forgot it was Mothers Day this past weekend. When I finally got the nerve to casually mention it - as he was preparing to leave the house to go 4-wheeling - instead of changing his plans, he got mad at me for "making him feel guilty." I tried to be understanding, but it still hurt my feelings. He went out anyway.

4. It is almost summertime which means I need to revisit going off Effexor. Things have been so even keep for us - for the most part- with me on low-dose medication. I'm now afraid to even contemplate going off it because I can finally function.

3. I'm worried about the next time I won't be able to function again. My whole business, livelihood, sense of personal worth, is based on being able to do what I do and to do it well. What happens when that goes away again? Like during menopause? Or if I get Alzheimers?

2. I'm not so keen on NG being in day care anymore. It just seems to be way too much for her - she's not even 2 years old and is away from 9:30am until 5:30pm. That is a lot, even for an adult. I want to talk to G. about this but am worried about how he will react.

1. NG is going to need an MRI (under general anesthesia) and eye surgery. This scares me to death.

No wonder I feel like shit.

Now why did I call this post Secret to Happiness? At this point, I have no earthly idea.

 

Sweat But No Blood

My period is now officially 7 days late. But before you start offering tentative congratulations, let me just tell you that I took a home pregnancy test, and it is so negative that the single pink line practically screamed "Not Pregnant!!"

This happened to me back in October. My period was 9 days late, and then it came on with a vengeance. In November, my period was late again so I went to my NP (nurse practitioner) for tests. Blood test showed elevated progesterone but no hCG. Decidedly NOT pregnant but clearly having a progesterone surge.

I sat in the bathroom yesterday, about to pee on the stick, and I ran through the gamut of thoughts and emotions.

"What if I AM pregnant this time?"

"We just had a lot of expenses these last few months. We can't afford another child right now."

"NG really would love a baby brother or sister."

"I'm really afraid this might put too much pressure on G. - he's still recovering from his foot surgery."

"Can I handle another child?"

"I think I can handle another child - if we can manage my post partum depression."

"What if I have to go off my medicine right now? Will I be okay?"

"I haven't been taking extra folic acid - what if the baby has Down Syndrome because of that?

"G. and my relationship could handle another child, right?"

Now that the test shows a definitively single pink line, the thoughts in my head are just as numerous but singing a different tune.

"We just got through post partum depression - how are we going to survive perimenopause?"

"Does this really mean no chance of having another baby?"

"What if my medication can't handle these new hormonal surges, and I plummet back into PPD hell?

"Am I really getting old?"

"What if G. wants to leave me for a younger, more fertile model?"

"What else is going to happen to my body against my will that I'm going to have to deal with?"

"Do I really have to just suck it up?"

I've had night sweats the last few nights which tells me that:

1. I'm not pregnant.

2. I'm having hormonal surges at night.

3. I need to stock up on more cotton nightshirts because I'm going through them like they're going out of style.

I have about 5 books about perimenopause and a few on menopause that I picked up cheap at a library book sale last year. They still sit on my nightstand unread. I'm almost afraid to read them but they will probably answer some of my questions. G. and I are talking a lot about these changes, and hopefully that will answer some more of my questions.

But some of them may remain unanswered.