I've been dreaming of babies lately. Maybe it is because I've been thinking a lot about when I first became a mom. I can hardly remember not being a mom. Things sure were different back then.
I took my tiny, nearly 5 lb. bundle home two days after her birth. The newborn outfit I dressed her in looked 2 sizes too big. It's a good thing this was back in the day before car seats. The straps would have wrapped around her clothing and she would have slipped right out of both. Instead, after flopping in the front seat,the nurse placed her in my arms and we were off to be a family of 3.
I thought life would go back to normal upon returning home. I'd no longer waddle around. Energy would abound. I could bend in the middle again and see my toes. I was lighter on my feet. But I didn't really gain back my body. The baby merely shifted from the inside to the outside. She still clung to my middle, but now I needed my arms to hold onto her. Maybe it had been easier letting my belly do the work.
The second thing that changed was the other adult in the house sold my car. I couldn't drive to my mother's to wash our clothes for free. The laundromat was 2 blocks away. I'd been there before. This wouldn't be so bad. I didn't realize how much laundry one tiny baby could generate. How was I going to drag bags of dirty clothes & detergent while carrying a baby? The man had a motorcycle to get to and from work. A load of clothes didn't pack well on the back of a bike. In today's world, I would have figured out a way to do it. But back then, I just accepted this as normal.
My first attempt at laundry, I managed 1 load. All baby clothes and blankets. The man decided I could get more done if maybe I had a stroller. So he began the hunt for a used stroller. I never even wondered how he was going to get it home once he found one. I was just happy at the thought of having another set of arms in the form of a moving baby bed. My arms would be free again.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Happier Times 2/Birth
I announced to my husband, that today was the big day. I showered and dressed, but didn't eat breakfast. At birthing classes, I was told it was important not to eat before giving birth-just in case. I didn't care. I couldn't wait to hold my very own baby.
My husband had plans for the day to meet up with friends. Several guys showed up. They were disappointed to hear he couldn't leave and wanted to know how in the world I knew I was going to have a baby that day. I wasn't about to share details of how my body was making preparations for an impending birth. I mean, really, way too much information for single, 20 something young men.
Throughout the day, I had contractions, but nothing dramatic. Each one brought increased excitement. Around dinnertime, consistent squeezings were at 12 minute intervals. ( I was starving, so mealtimes were significant. I noticed each missed eating opportunity.) The father-to-be said something about going out to get food for himself and left. He really went up to the corner Circle K Market to call my sister. We didn't own a phone, and he was getting worried. My sister lived just a couple miles away and had survived giving birth. He figured she'd know what to do.
I was a little surprised when he came back with my sister and her husband. The last thing I needed was for 2 more people to hover over me, asking if it was time yet. Thankfully, we played cards for the next several hours. Around 10:30, Carolyn decided they were going home and would check back in tomorrow. But she didn't. She drove to the corner Circle K and phoned my doctor to express her concern. He told her I should go to the hospital to be checked. Fifteen minutes after I thought Carolyn and Larry had gone home, they returned to say they were taking me to the hospital.
I refused to go, but my husband insisted he'd take me. We were in a room by 11:30 p.m. After much paper work, monitoring, and a very uncomfortable check of my cervix, I was declared at a "2" and in early labor. I was told it would be awhile and if I wanted I could leave and come back. Exhausted, from not eating all day, I chose to go home and try to sleep.
I dozed off occasionally, only to be awakened 10 minutes later. At 9 the next morning, we had visitors again. I couldn't get out of bed. The excitement I felt with each contraction the day before had been replaced by pain. Gripping pain came every 5 minutes. I found my parents beside my bed. Not having a phone caused undue stress for my family. Did they think I'd give birth and not call from the hospital? Mom said she thought they'd come by and either take me out to breakfast, or see their new grandbaby. Sorry to disappoint. I was going to the hospital.
It was April 5th, 1981. Women in labor were routinely "prepped" for childbirth with shaving and an enema. The shave was for an episiotomy- a big word for a small cut that required several stitches and painful recovery. Labor rooms were more pleasant, but at a most critical time, moms were whisked down the hall to sterile delivery rooms. Husbands were allowed in to the labor rooms, but not anyone else. I had no idea that just outside my door I had a roomful of waiting people.
I was sorely disappointed when I was told I was 4 cm. I wasn't even halfway. The doctor broke my water. I've never understood this. My body created this nice big, pillowy-soft cushion protecting not only the baby, but me. Once removed, the pain became unbearable. Someone appeared and offered Demerol to take the edge off. A ridiculously false statement. My eyes crossed & I couldn't see straight. The edges remained, stabbing like knives. I was miserable. I didn't think I could feel any more exhausted, but thanks to the drug, I did. I declared to all, that I didn't want to do this anymore, I couldn't. The man next to me just laughed and told me there was no going back. I really didn't like him much at that point.
At 2:45, I was complete and told to push. I didn't feel like pushing. I felt like sleeping, but I pushed. I pushed. I pushed. I was actually relieved when the critical moment came and I was wheeled to delivery. I didn't have to push.
Out came the stirrups, up went my legs. I didn't recognize anyone with their matching gowns and face masks, but the room was full of people. I felt a burning sensation, then I felt as if someone was turning me inside out. A moment later a voice proclaimed "It's a girl!" A few more minutes and someone was holding a little bundle over my head, before whisking her away. She was alive and she was real. I was a mom.
Christina arrived at 5:04 p.m. She weighed 5 lbs 6 oz. I wish I'd had pictures, but we didn't own a camera.
My husband had plans for the day to meet up with friends. Several guys showed up. They were disappointed to hear he couldn't leave and wanted to know how in the world I knew I was going to have a baby that day. I wasn't about to share details of how my body was making preparations for an impending birth. I mean, really, way too much information for single, 20 something young men.
Throughout the day, I had contractions, but nothing dramatic. Each one brought increased excitement. Around dinnertime, consistent squeezings were at 12 minute intervals. ( I was starving, so mealtimes were significant. I noticed each missed eating opportunity.) The father-to-be said something about going out to get food for himself and left. He really went up to the corner Circle K Market to call my sister. We didn't own a phone, and he was getting worried. My sister lived just a couple miles away and had survived giving birth. He figured she'd know what to do.
I was a little surprised when he came back with my sister and her husband. The last thing I needed was for 2 more people to hover over me, asking if it was time yet. Thankfully, we played cards for the next several hours. Around 10:30, Carolyn decided they were going home and would check back in tomorrow. But she didn't. She drove to the corner Circle K and phoned my doctor to express her concern. He told her I should go to the hospital to be checked. Fifteen minutes after I thought Carolyn and Larry had gone home, they returned to say they were taking me to the hospital.
I refused to go, but my husband insisted he'd take me. We were in a room by 11:30 p.m. After much paper work, monitoring, and a very uncomfortable check of my cervix, I was declared at a "2" and in early labor. I was told it would be awhile and if I wanted I could leave and come back. Exhausted, from not eating all day, I chose to go home and try to sleep.
I dozed off occasionally, only to be awakened 10 minutes later. At 9 the next morning, we had visitors again. I couldn't get out of bed. The excitement I felt with each contraction the day before had been replaced by pain. Gripping pain came every 5 minutes. I found my parents beside my bed. Not having a phone caused undue stress for my family. Did they think I'd give birth and not call from the hospital? Mom said she thought they'd come by and either take me out to breakfast, or see their new grandbaby. Sorry to disappoint. I was going to the hospital.
It was April 5th, 1981. Women in labor were routinely "prepped" for childbirth with shaving and an enema. The shave was for an episiotomy- a big word for a small cut that required several stitches and painful recovery. Labor rooms were more pleasant, but at a most critical time, moms were whisked down the hall to sterile delivery rooms. Husbands were allowed in to the labor rooms, but not anyone else. I had no idea that just outside my door I had a roomful of waiting people.
I was sorely disappointed when I was told I was 4 cm. I wasn't even halfway. The doctor broke my water. I've never understood this. My body created this nice big, pillowy-soft cushion protecting not only the baby, but me. Once removed, the pain became unbearable. Someone appeared and offered Demerol to take the edge off. A ridiculously false statement. My eyes crossed & I couldn't see straight. The edges remained, stabbing like knives. I was miserable. I didn't think I could feel any more exhausted, but thanks to the drug, I did. I declared to all, that I didn't want to do this anymore, I couldn't. The man next to me just laughed and told me there was no going back. I really didn't like him much at that point.
At 2:45, I was complete and told to push. I didn't feel like pushing. I felt like sleeping, but I pushed. I pushed. I pushed. I was actually relieved when the critical moment came and I was wheeled to delivery. I didn't have to push.
Out came the stirrups, up went my legs. I didn't recognize anyone with their matching gowns and face masks, but the room was full of people. I felt a burning sensation, then I felt as if someone was turning me inside out. A moment later a voice proclaimed "It's a girl!" A few more minutes and someone was holding a little bundle over my head, before whisking her away. She was alive and she was real. I was a mom.
Christina arrived at 5:04 p.m. She weighed 5 lbs 6 oz. I wish I'd had pictures, but we didn't own a camera.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Happier Times
Since finances were so tight, I took a job. I babysat for a friend's 3 month old infant. The baby was delightful and I earned $35/week. (I didn't realize at the time, but 22 years later, Kathy would marry my brother. But that's another story.) The best and worst part of the job, was I didn't work from home. My friend lived close to my parents, so we met there each day. It was a 15-20 minute drive. I'm not sure how well it worked out for my folks, but it was wonderful for me. They had a very food friendly refrigerator and a washer and dryer. I often had the chance to visit with my mom or sister, before heading back to my apartment. This was a morality boost for me.
In spite of my increasing size, motherhood seemed a far way off. No ultrasounds or fancy tests to tell the gender of the baby. My only connection to this little one, was movement inside my belly that I had no control over. It was hard to imagine that this was a little person. The only birth experience I'd had was my cat having kittens. At night I'd dream my baby wasa tiny kitty in my arms.
Eight days before my due date, I awoke at 5:00a.m. I experienced what I'd been told was a bloody show. I laid back down, but couldn't sleep. It was Saturday and I was going to have a baby.
In spite of my increasing size, motherhood seemed a far way off. No ultrasounds or fancy tests to tell the gender of the baby. My only connection to this little one, was movement inside my belly that I had no control over. It was hard to imagine that this was a little person. The only birth experience I'd had was my cat having kittens. At night I'd dream my baby wasa tiny kitty in my arms.
Eight days before my due date, I awoke at 5:00a.m. I experienced what I'd been told was a bloody show. I laid back down, but couldn't sleep. It was Saturday and I was going to have a baby.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Get A Life 2
As a new wife, I couldn't wait to show off my culinary skills. I opened the refrigerator to find 2 bottles of beer and a pizza box containing 1 dried up, shriveled slice of pizza. The cupboards were bare. What in the world would I cook?
My pregnancy brought about a craving for cheeseburgers. I could eat them every single day. So that would be my first home cooked meal. The man of the house was off to work. When he arrived home, he'd find his wife in the kitchen, preparing a delicious, homecooked meal of burgers. Yes, that would be nice.
Before he'd left for work, he gave me $20 for groceries that week. I was so excited to be doing my own shopping and meal planning. It wasn't on paper, but in my head I had the meals worked out. I snatched the money off of the counter. This was exciting: my first grocery shopping adventure as a married woman.
I went straight to the meat department and picked out a nice 1 lb. package of ground beef. That would make 4 large patties. Without stopping to look for other meat, I skipped to the bakery for a package of buns. Oh, I needed cheese slices; on to the dairy section. Mmmmm....the cartons of milk caught my attention. A tall, ice cold glass of milk and some chocolate chip cookies would make a fine dessert.
Let's see, I needed ketchup & mustard. I had to have onions. Pickles, wow is that the smallest jar they had? Mayonnaise would be nice to have, lettuce too. My mouth was watering, just thinking about how good these burgers would be. Now for the cookies: flour, sugar, eggs...how in the world could I buy all of this stuff? I didn't have enough money to cook one meal, let alone make it last all week. What about breakfast and lunch?
Slowly, I pushed my cart up and down the aisles. I placed the items back on their proper shelves. I left the store with a carton of milk, a loaf of bread, eggs, and margarine. Once home, I tried my best to load it in the refrigerator so it looked like lots of food. I didn't normally put bread in there, but I wanted something on each shelf.
For dinner I had a 29 cent cheeseburger from McDonald's. He had 3 and 1 order of french fries. The cost was just under $2.00. How would I ever be a good cook, a good wife, and a good mother? I wondered how my parents ever managed to have their cupboards stocked with so many things.
My pregnancy brought about a craving for cheeseburgers. I could eat them every single day. So that would be my first home cooked meal. The man of the house was off to work. When he arrived home, he'd find his wife in the kitchen, preparing a delicious, homecooked meal of burgers. Yes, that would be nice.
Before he'd left for work, he gave me $20 for groceries that week. I was so excited to be doing my own shopping and meal planning. It wasn't on paper, but in my head I had the meals worked out. I snatched the money off of the counter. This was exciting: my first grocery shopping adventure as a married woman.
I went straight to the meat department and picked out a nice 1 lb. package of ground beef. That would make 4 large patties. Without stopping to look for other meat, I skipped to the bakery for a package of buns. Oh, I needed cheese slices; on to the dairy section. Mmmmm....the cartons of milk caught my attention. A tall, ice cold glass of milk and some chocolate chip cookies would make a fine dessert.
Let's see, I needed ketchup & mustard. I had to have onions. Pickles, wow is that the smallest jar they had? Mayonnaise would be nice to have, lettuce too. My mouth was watering, just thinking about how good these burgers would be. Now for the cookies: flour, sugar, eggs...how in the world could I buy all of this stuff? I didn't have enough money to cook one meal, let alone make it last all week. What about breakfast and lunch?
Slowly, I pushed my cart up and down the aisles. I placed the items back on their proper shelves. I left the store with a carton of milk, a loaf of bread, eggs, and margarine. Once home, I tried my best to load it in the refrigerator so it looked like lots of food. I didn't normally put bread in there, but I wanted something on each shelf.
For dinner I had a 29 cent cheeseburger from McDonald's. He had 3 and 1 order of french fries. The cost was just under $2.00. How would I ever be a good cook, a good wife, and a good mother? I wondered how my parents ever managed to have their cupboards stocked with so many things.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Get A Life
When I was 17, I had ovarian surgery. The doctor told me I would probably never have children, but if I did, my best chance would be to have them ASAP. I cried. Often. The only thing I ever wanted in life was to be a mom, not to one or two. I wanted a home filled with children. How could this be happening to me? Didn't God realize this was the only thing important to me?
I was sad. I was angry. But deep in my heart, I held a little flicker of hope. I reminded myself that my own mom had been told she'd never have children. She'd had a similar surgery. She welcomed her firstborn 11 days after her 19th birthday. Her 4th child arrived before she turned 24. (Do the math. That's 4 kids in 4 1/2 years.) Two months after her last birth, mom had a complete hysterectomy. I'm thankful to be here. If my mom hadn't been told she couldn't conceive, she'd have waited to have children. I wouldn't be sitting at this computer.
Eighteen months after my surgery, in the summer of 1980, I became pregnant. I wish I could say I was overjoyed. Instead, my insides churned with a jumble of emotions. I was elated to be having a child, but at age 18 I wasn't married. Telling my parents would not be pleasant. They weren't particularly fond of the guy I was dating.
With visions of becoming a mom dancing in my head, and the hope of having more children in my heart, I entered into marriage. I pushed aside my doubts and fears. I'd love this man, I'd love my child. Life would be good.
I should have listened when two days before we wed, Randy told me we'd be divorced some day. He said it so nonchanlantly.
I remember leaving my parents' home to spend the first night with my new husband. I fought back the tears. When I awoke in the morning, nobody would be there but him. My sister wouldn't be there. Gone were the late night chat sessions & the early morning scuffles over who would be first to use the bathroom. Dad wouldn't be scraping his burned toast over the trash can the next morning. I wouldn't smell the peanut butter he'd spread over the top. Mom's pile of school books would not be on the breakfast table, nor would I see her making hot tea or hear her tea kettle whistle. On the short drive to our apartment, loneliness nestled in to make her home in my heart.
I was sad. I was angry. But deep in my heart, I held a little flicker of hope. I reminded myself that my own mom had been told she'd never have children. She'd had a similar surgery. She welcomed her firstborn 11 days after her 19th birthday. Her 4th child arrived before she turned 24. (Do the math. That's 4 kids in 4 1/2 years.) Two months after her last birth, mom had a complete hysterectomy. I'm thankful to be here. If my mom hadn't been told she couldn't conceive, she'd have waited to have children. I wouldn't be sitting at this computer.
Eighteen months after my surgery, in the summer of 1980, I became pregnant. I wish I could say I was overjoyed. Instead, my insides churned with a jumble of emotions. I was elated to be having a child, but at age 18 I wasn't married. Telling my parents would not be pleasant. They weren't particularly fond of the guy I was dating.
With visions of becoming a mom dancing in my head, and the hope of having more children in my heart, I entered into marriage. I pushed aside my doubts and fears. I'd love this man, I'd love my child. Life would be good.
I should have listened when two days before we wed, Randy told me we'd be divorced some day. He said it so nonchanlantly.
I remember leaving my parents' home to spend the first night with my new husband. I fought back the tears. When I awoke in the morning, nobody would be there but him. My sister wouldn't be there. Gone were the late night chat sessions & the early morning scuffles over who would be first to use the bathroom. Dad wouldn't be scraping his burned toast over the trash can the next morning. I wouldn't smell the peanut butter he'd spread over the top. Mom's pile of school books would not be on the breakfast table, nor would I see her making hot tea or hear her tea kettle whistle. On the short drive to our apartment, loneliness nestled in to make her home in my heart.
Follow It I Did
On March 12 (I remember because it was the day before my birthday,) I came down with a cold/virus. Then came a sinus infection, fluid in my ears, & it has been ugly. At least I didn't end up with pneumonia & an ear infection like Hilary. Nor did I run down the stairs, roll my ankle, & tear ligaments in my foot as Sarabeth did. But I have spent more time on the computer. Which my Dr. says explains is why I am now experiencing tennis elbow and shoulder pain. (Why do they still call it tennis elbow? I don't play tennis. Computer Elbow? Mouse Elbow?) Technically, tendonitis.
All of that to say, I am extremely fatigued at the end of the day and it is why my recipe blog has not been updated much. I do cook, but I can't remember to take pics. I barely throw it on the table. Before cooking something new, I like to see what a dish looks like, before I take the plunge. This is especially true when it comes to baking. I'm a baking failure as you probably know.
Last Thursday, my inlaws were coming to dinner. No brownies or cookies in sight, so I went looking for an easy-to-prepare dessert. One in which I already possessed the ingredients. I was so excited when I found this Apple Brown Betty at the Pioneer Cooks site. The Pioneer Woman is famous for taking an abundance of photos, while preparing food. This recipe had 4 ingredients: Apples, Bread, Brown Sugar, & Butter. Simple. I can do this. I can follow a recipe.
And follow the recipe I did, with just one teensy addition. Cinnamon. One cannot make an apple dessert without it. It was a hit! We topped it off with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, as it was a little bit dry. But that was to be expected. I just could not bring myself to using 3/4 cup of butter. That equals about 2 TBS a person. So I cut back on the butter, but otherwise, I followed the recipe...almost.
Michael declared that there was no way I actually followed the recipe exactly. Why do I try to argue? In my mind, I DID follow the directions. Well, I didn't have Granny Smith apples and used Jazz Apples instead. Apples are apples. I'd never buy mushy sweet ones anyway. So I used different apples, a little less butter, and added cinnamon to the 4 ingredient dish. Oops, did I say 4? That is what the Pioneer Woman starts with, but at the end, she tells you to sprinkle 3-4 TBS of water over the top. I added maybe 1 TBS. I was afraid the bread might get soggy, although I'm not sure why, as I added 2 extra slices of bread. !?!? Did I really just say that?
Okay. I don't follow recipes. Ever. Not even simple 4, err...5 ingredient recipes. I just can't. That is why I don't like baking. With cooking, there is grace. Baking is not so forgiving.
All of that to say, I am extremely fatigued at the end of the day and it is why my recipe blog has not been updated much. I do cook, but I can't remember to take pics. I barely throw it on the table. Before cooking something new, I like to see what a dish looks like, before I take the plunge. This is especially true when it comes to baking. I'm a baking failure as you probably know.
Last Thursday, my inlaws were coming to dinner. No brownies or cookies in sight, so I went looking for an easy-to-prepare dessert. One in which I already possessed the ingredients. I was so excited when I found this Apple Brown Betty at the Pioneer Cooks site. The Pioneer Woman is famous for taking an abundance of photos, while preparing food. This recipe had 4 ingredients: Apples, Bread, Brown Sugar, & Butter. Simple. I can do this. I can follow a recipe.
And follow the recipe I did, with just one teensy addition. Cinnamon. One cannot make an apple dessert without it. It was a hit! We topped it off with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, as it was a little bit dry. But that was to be expected. I just could not bring myself to using 3/4 cup of butter. That equals about 2 TBS a person. So I cut back on the butter, but otherwise, I followed the recipe...almost.
Michael declared that there was no way I actually followed the recipe exactly. Why do I try to argue? In my mind, I DID follow the directions. Well, I didn't have Granny Smith apples and used Jazz Apples instead. Apples are apples. I'd never buy mushy sweet ones anyway. So I used different apples, a little less butter, and added cinnamon to the 4 ingredient dish. Oops, did I say 4? That is what the Pioneer Woman starts with, but at the end, she tells you to sprinkle 3-4 TBS of water over the top. I added maybe 1 TBS. I was afraid the bread might get soggy, although I'm not sure why, as I added 2 extra slices of bread. !?!? Did I really just say that?
Okay. I don't follow recipes. Ever. Not even simple 4, err...5 ingredient recipes. I just can't. That is why I don't like baking. With cooking, there is grace. Baking is not so forgiving.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Spring Has Sprung
As the temperatures soared into the 60's, I flung my kitchen window open. I breathed in deeply. Ah, the fresh scent of spring. I quickly finished cleaning up, so I could enjoy the warm, sunshine.
Ethan loves spring too. We spent all afternoon outside. He wasn't too happy when it was time to come in. I think he wanted to bring that fresh, spring air inside. In fact, I'm sure of it. I noticed the clean scent as I came downstairs. It reminded me of freshly laundered sheets, hanging on the clothes line, gently blowing in the breeze. The air inside was indeed spring fresh. Actually, it was April fresh, according to the empty bottle lying on the laundry room floor.
In his little helper way, Ethan managed to take the clean clothes out of the dryer, and place them back in the washer. Apparently, they didn't smell clean enough. An entire bottle of fabric softener would do the trick.
What a mess! It was all over the top of the washer, down the front, on the floor. Pretty much everywhere. In trying to salvage some of the blue liquid, I took 20 of my nicest cleaning cloths and soaked up the April freshness. I thought I could toss one in to the rinse cycle of the next 20 or so loads and voila! I'd have soft, static-free, nice smelling clothing.
Seriously, what was I thinking? First off, how am I to know exactly when the rinse cycle begins? Would a little timer go off in my brain, exactly 43 minutes after I put clothes into the machine? Or is my memory so superb, that I would automatically remember to run downstairs at just the right moment? Nope. Isn't going to happen.
Secondly, the blue splashes down the wallpaper should have been a clue that this was not a good idea. Once the blue stuff dries, a cold water rinse does NOT dissolve it into the creamy liquid it once was. My lovely cleaning rags are now dirty blue, and leave anti-static streaks on my mirrors. Oh, but they do smell fresh. April Fresh. Thank-you Ethan, for bringing the spring air inside for all to enjoy.
Ethan loves spring too. We spent all afternoon outside. He wasn't too happy when it was time to come in. I think he wanted to bring that fresh, spring air inside. In fact, I'm sure of it. I noticed the clean scent as I came downstairs. It reminded me of freshly laundered sheets, hanging on the clothes line, gently blowing in the breeze. The air inside was indeed spring fresh. Actually, it was April fresh, according to the empty bottle lying on the laundry room floor.
In his little helper way, Ethan managed to take the clean clothes out of the dryer, and place them back in the washer. Apparently, they didn't smell clean enough. An entire bottle of fabric softener would do the trick.
What a mess! It was all over the top of the washer, down the front, on the floor. Pretty much everywhere. In trying to salvage some of the blue liquid, I took 20 of my nicest cleaning cloths and soaked up the April freshness. I thought I could toss one in to the rinse cycle of the next 20 or so loads and voila! I'd have soft, static-free, nice smelling clothing.
Seriously, what was I thinking? First off, how am I to know exactly when the rinse cycle begins? Would a little timer go off in my brain, exactly 43 minutes after I put clothes into the machine? Or is my memory so superb, that I would automatically remember to run downstairs at just the right moment? Nope. Isn't going to happen.
Secondly, the blue splashes down the wallpaper should have been a clue that this was not a good idea. Once the blue stuff dries, a cold water rinse does NOT dissolve it into the creamy liquid it once was. My lovely cleaning rags are now dirty blue, and leave anti-static streaks on my mirrors. Oh, but they do smell fresh. April Fresh. Thank-you Ethan, for bringing the spring air inside for all to enjoy.
Friday, April 11, 2008
I Saw God Today
I am a George Strait fan. I have been, since the early 1980's.
I'm also a fan of mama's with large families, and babies, and birth stories.
So in honor of Jenni, who is in the hospital at this very minute, bloggin about the birth of her 12th baby, I wanted to share George Straight's newest release with you. (Just in case you are not a country music fan and haven't heard this yet.)
"I Saw God Today"
Just walked down the street to the coffee shop
Had to take a break
I'd been by her side for 18 hours straight
Saw a flower growin' in the middle of the sidewalk
Pushin' up through the concrete
Like it was planted right there for me to see
The flashin' lights, the honkin' horns, all seemed to fade away
In the shadow of that hospital at 5:08,
I saw God today
Chorus: I've been to church
I've read the Book
I know He's here but I don't look
Near as often as I should,
(yeah, I know I should)
His fingerprints are everywhere
I just slowed down to stop and stare
Opened my eyes and man I swear
I saw God today
Saw a couple walking by,
they were holding hands
Man, she had that glow
Yeah, I couldn't help but notice,
she was starting to show
Stood there for a minute taking in the sky
Lost in that sunset
A splash of amber melted into shades of red.
Chorus
Got my face pressed up against the nursery glass
She's sleepin' like a rock
My name on her wrist,
wearin' tiny pink socks
She's got my nose,
she's got her mama's eyes
My brand new baby girl,
she's a miracle
I saw God today
I'm also a fan of mama's with large families, and babies, and birth stories.
So in honor of Jenni, who is in the hospital at this very minute, bloggin about the birth of her 12th baby, I wanted to share George Straight's newest release with you. (Just in case you are not a country music fan and haven't heard this yet.)
"I Saw God Today"
Just walked down the street to the coffee shop
Had to take a break
I'd been by her side for 18 hours straight
Saw a flower growin' in the middle of the sidewalk
Pushin' up through the concrete
Like it was planted right there for me to see
The flashin' lights, the honkin' horns, all seemed to fade away
In the shadow of that hospital at 5:08,
I saw God today
Chorus: I've been to church
I've read the Book
I know He's here but I don't look
Near as often as I should,
(yeah, I know I should)
His fingerprints are everywhere
I just slowed down to stop and stare
Opened my eyes and man I swear
I saw God today
Saw a couple walking by,
they were holding hands
Man, she had that glow
Yeah, I couldn't help but notice,
she was starting to show
Stood there for a minute taking in the sky
Lost in that sunset
A splash of amber melted into shades of red.
Chorus
Got my face pressed up against the nursery glass
She's sleepin' like a rock
My name on her wrist,
wearin' tiny pink socks
She's got my nose,
she's got her mama's eyes
My brand new baby girl,
she's a miracle
I saw God today
Sick
Tick, tick, tick...15 more minutes. I really would prefer to jump in the shower, but I can't just yet. In 14 minutes the doctor's office opens their phone lines. Does anyone else do this?
Mondays and Fridays are the worst. Come on, you moms know the routine. The child misses school. You wonder how sick she really is, just miss class sick, or go to the doctor sick. The next day she goes to school. Yes! But then she comes home looking like she should have stayed home again. You hope by the next morning, she will be bouncing out of bed so as not to miss any more school.
But as soon as you open the door to her room, you know she isn't going. The mom starts thinking she better take the kid in before the weekend. Time for the 8 o'clock marathon of punching the numbers on the phone. It's never as simple as dialing, then speaking with someone. You have to know the codes. I'm good at punching codes, I play video games, remember? (Ok, so guitar hero doesn't count.) After just the right sequence of digits, I get to idle away the next 15 minutes on hold. A good time to catch up on reading blogs.
But if I miss the 8 o'clock fun, then I have to do this all over again. I'm not playing this game Monday. I'd rather do it today. So if you live in the area, please don't try to call THAT doctor's office. I'd really like to get a shower before noon.
Updated: Hilary has pneumonia again and an ear infection
Mondays and Fridays are the worst. Come on, you moms know the routine. The child misses school. You wonder how sick she really is, just miss class sick, or go to the doctor sick. The next day she goes to school. Yes! But then she comes home looking like she should have stayed home again. You hope by the next morning, she will be bouncing out of bed so as not to miss any more school.
But as soon as you open the door to her room, you know she isn't going. The mom starts thinking she better take the kid in before the weekend. Time for the 8 o'clock marathon of punching the numbers on the phone. It's never as simple as dialing, then speaking with someone. You have to know the codes. I'm good at punching codes, I play video games, remember? (Ok, so guitar hero doesn't count.) After just the right sequence of digits, I get to idle away the next 15 minutes on hold. A good time to catch up on reading blogs.
But if I miss the 8 o'clock fun, then I have to do this all over again. I'm not playing this game Monday. I'd rather do it today. So if you live in the area, please don't try to call THAT doctor's office. I'd really like to get a shower before noon.
Updated: Hilary has pneumonia again and an ear infection
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
The Proposal (Details, details, part 3)
After obtaining Lauren's parents' permission to marry their daughter, Christopher flew home and began making plans for the proposal. He inquired about her work schedule that week. Was she working late? He would happily come over on his lunch break to let the dog out. She did have a late day on Wednesday. So Wednesday was the designated day.
Christopher took the afternoon off of work, to execute the plan. He'd spent Monday and Tuesday preparing the details. He gathered the necessary decorations and thought everything was set. Wednesday afternoon, Lauren calls with good news. Her last client of the day had canceled their appointment. She would be home early! Hooray....time for plan B. Was there a plan B?
Quickly, he improvised. Instead of decorating her apartment himself, he enlisted the help of a couple of friends. He told Lauren he had to work late, and took the time to drop everything off with Gabe, along with instructions. He and Lauren would go shoppin, and when they left, he'd text message Gabe. When they left for the apartment, Christopher would text him again, to let him know they were on their way.
Everything was running smoothly again. Lauren remarked how patient he'd been as she browsed the entire store, up and down every aisle. He just smiled. Upon leaving, Christopher sent another text to Gabe, but didn't get a response. This made him a little nervous.
Pulling into the parking lot, he noticed Gabe's car. He must not have gotten the text. Anxiously he began driving around. "What are you doing?" Lauren queried. "Just trying to find a spot where I can see my car from your window." With that, he pulled back around in front of Lauren's apartment.
"Oh my gosh! Someone is in my apartment!" Sure enough. Christopher could see his friends in the window. "No, Lauren, I don't see anyone." He slowly pulled into a parking place. "Chris, there IS someone in my apartment." Lauren got out of the car quickly.
On there way in, they passed Gabe and Shannon. Not knowing what to do, Christopher pretended he didn't see them and kept walking. Lauren stopped. "What are you doing here? Were you in my apartment? What's going on?" The questions came flying out. Their friends mumbled something about they just stopped by, but Christopher just kept walking. Lauren became a little frantic. By the time she opened her door, her hands were shaking and she was still asking what was going on. Christopher took her by the hand and led her to her room.
Inside, candles were lit. The room was adorned with flowers. Spread across the bed were 63 photographs of Christopher and Lauren together. He had printed up 1 for every month they'd been together. On each photo, he'd written a quote, bible verse, or sentiment on love and/or marriage. Lauren began to cry and buried her head in his shoulder. After a moment, Christopher told her to look at the photos. He then reached in a drawer, where Gabe had put the ring. He dropped to one knee and took Lauren by the hand.
(If I know what love is, it is because of you. Herman Hesse)
"Lauren, we have been together for five years. My love for you has yet to be quenched and I would like to spend the rest of my life trying to do so...will you marry me?"
Christopher took the afternoon off of work, to execute the plan. He'd spent Monday and Tuesday preparing the details. He gathered the necessary decorations and thought everything was set. Wednesday afternoon, Lauren calls with good news. Her last client of the day had canceled their appointment. She would be home early! Hooray....time for plan B. Was there a plan B?
Quickly, he improvised. Instead of decorating her apartment himself, he enlisted the help of a couple of friends. He told Lauren he had to work late, and took the time to drop everything off with Gabe, along with instructions. He and Lauren would go shoppin, and when they left, he'd text message Gabe. When they left for the apartment, Christopher would text him again, to let him know they were on their way.
Everything was running smoothly again. Lauren remarked how patient he'd been as she browsed the entire store, up and down every aisle. He just smiled. Upon leaving, Christopher sent another text to Gabe, but didn't get a response. This made him a little nervous.
Pulling into the parking lot, he noticed Gabe's car. He must not have gotten the text. Anxiously he began driving around. "What are you doing?" Lauren queried. "Just trying to find a spot where I can see my car from your window." With that, he pulled back around in front of Lauren's apartment.
"Oh my gosh! Someone is in my apartment!" Sure enough. Christopher could see his friends in the window. "No, Lauren, I don't see anyone." He slowly pulled into a parking place. "Chris, there IS someone in my apartment." Lauren got out of the car quickly.
On there way in, they passed Gabe and Shannon. Not knowing what to do, Christopher pretended he didn't see them and kept walking. Lauren stopped. "What are you doing here? Were you in my apartment? What's going on?" The questions came flying out. Their friends mumbled something about they just stopped by, but Christopher just kept walking. Lauren became a little frantic. By the time she opened her door, her hands were shaking and she was still asking what was going on. Christopher took her by the hand and led her to her room.
Inside, candles were lit. The room was adorned with flowers. Spread across the bed were 63 photographs of Christopher and Lauren together. He had printed up 1 for every month they'd been together. On each photo, he'd written a quote, bible verse, or sentiment on love and/or marriage. Lauren began to cry and buried her head in his shoulder. After a moment, Christopher told her to look at the photos. He then reached in a drawer, where Gabe had put the ring. He dropped to one knee and took Lauren by the hand.
(If I know what love is, it is because of you. Herman Hesse)
"Lauren, we have been together for five years. My love for you has yet to be quenched and I would like to spend the rest of my life trying to do so...will you marry me?"
She said yes.
Some Days Are Hard
I hope to get "the Proposal" story up a little later today. My head is a little fuzzy right now. As I get older, I don't function well with little sleep.
At 12:22 last night, I was awakened. Hilary is standing over my bed, handing me her cell phone. "Elisabeth needs to talk to you." Fumbling in the dark it is difficult to know if I am holding it forwards, backwards, or upright. Finally, I hear a teary voice in my ear.
"There's a drunk guy outside my door. He keeps knocking and trying to get in. Now he is sitting next to my door."
"Call your CA." She reminds me that her CA quit earlier in the week. There had been an incident on Friday. A girl a couple of doors down was found dead in her room, probable overdose. The CA was so shaken, she quit and they hadn't found a replacement yet. I hand the phone to her father, since my mind is just not thinking clearly yet. She retells the story. As he suggests she call a friend, who'd moved out but used to work the front desk, I blurt out, "or call 911." He adds that bit of information and tells her to phone back.
I stumble out of bed. I hand Hilary her cell phone and she heads back to bed. After a few minutes, Michael and I are both up waiting. Several tearful phone calls back and forth, more waiting, Michael making phone calls to try to locate someone in charge, and the situation was somewhat resolved by 1:30a.m. The police escorted this guy off, who did not live in this gated, locked building. Elisabeth was given a number she could call for one of the other CA's. Her dad offered to come get her, but she thought she'd be ok.
But it is hard to settle in and fall back asleep. I found myself lying in bed, continuing to pray for my daughter. Then the CAs who'd helped her, remembering when Christopher was an RA and it wasn't always the most pleasant job. And I prayed for every other person that came to mind during that time. I have no idea when I fell asleep.
At 12:22 last night, I was awakened. Hilary is standing over my bed, handing me her cell phone. "Elisabeth needs to talk to you." Fumbling in the dark it is difficult to know if I am holding it forwards, backwards, or upright. Finally, I hear a teary voice in my ear.
"There's a drunk guy outside my door. He keeps knocking and trying to get in. Now he is sitting next to my door."
"Call your CA." She reminds me that her CA quit earlier in the week. There had been an incident on Friday. A girl a couple of doors down was found dead in her room, probable overdose. The CA was so shaken, she quit and they hadn't found a replacement yet. I hand the phone to her father, since my mind is just not thinking clearly yet. She retells the story. As he suggests she call a friend, who'd moved out but used to work the front desk, I blurt out, "or call 911." He adds that bit of information and tells her to phone back.
I stumble out of bed. I hand Hilary her cell phone and she heads back to bed. After a few minutes, Michael and I are both up waiting. Several tearful phone calls back and forth, more waiting, Michael making phone calls to try to locate someone in charge, and the situation was somewhat resolved by 1:30a.m. The police escorted this guy off, who did not live in this gated, locked building. Elisabeth was given a number she could call for one of the other CA's. Her dad offered to come get her, but she thought she'd be ok.
But it is hard to settle in and fall back asleep. I found myself lying in bed, continuing to pray for my daughter. Then the CAs who'd helped her, remembering when Christopher was an RA and it wasn't always the most pleasant job. And I prayed for every other person that came to mind during that time. I have no idea when I fell asleep.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Details part 2
Back in 2003, Christopher was a senior in high school. Often, I wouldn't get to bed until around midnight. Before laying my head on the pillow, I'd go downstairs to check on everyone. As I'd pass Christopher's closed door, I'd hear muffled talking. Opening the door, I'd find him talking on the phone.
"Who are you talking to at this hour? Don't you know you have to be up in 6 hours?" (As if I didn't also.) The answer was always the same.
"Lauren."
Who was this girl that he talked to so late at night? I truly wanted to take away his phone privileges for being on so late. At the same time, I reasoned he was 18. In a few months, he'd be off at college. He would have to make choices about what time he went to bed, knowing what time he had to go to class. At some point he wouldn't have his mom telling him what to do. I figured it was better to let him begin making these choices now.
One night, after finding him on the phone late again, I asked him if Lauren's parents were ok with her being on the phone that late. He said he didn't know. I let him know, that if her parents objected that he was dishonoring them by talking to her so late. I could tell by the look on his face, he cared.
During basketball season, Christopher declared he wasn't cutting his hair until his high school team went to State. It not only got longer, but taller. His hair began to look like a crop was planted atop his head. To the games, he dressed in a black and white referee shirt or his mean & green tee, with white-out contact lenses. I couldn't help but wonder if other people questioned who the parents were of this teen.
"Who are you talking to at this hour? Don't you know you have to be up in 6 hours?" (As if I didn't also.) The answer was always the same.
"Lauren."
Who was this girl that he talked to so late at night? I truly wanted to take away his phone privileges for being on so late. At the same time, I reasoned he was 18. In a few months, he'd be off at college. He would have to make choices about what time he went to bed, knowing what time he had to go to class. At some point he wouldn't have his mom telling him what to do. I figured it was better to let him begin making these choices now.
One night, after finding him on the phone late again, I asked him if Lauren's parents were ok with her being on the phone that late. He said he didn't know. I let him know, that if her parents objected that he was dishonoring them by talking to her so late. I could tell by the look on his face, he cared.
During basketball season, Christopher declared he wasn't cutting his hair until his high school team went to State. It not only got longer, but taller. His hair began to look like a crop was planted atop his head. To the games, he dressed in a black and white referee shirt or his mean & green tee, with white-out contact lenses. I couldn't help but wonder if other people questioned who the parents were of this teen.
At the beginning of state playoffs, his school was teamed against my daughter's school. She was a cheerleader at the Christian school associated with our church. I recall as we walked into the building, the pastor's son was pointing at my son and whispering to his friend. But it didn't bother Christopher one bit as he strode by.
Later, when we met up in the car, my son seemed a bit concerned. "Ma, I just met Lauren's dad." I didn't understand what the big deal was. He continued, "he probably thought I was a weirdo." I could hardly believe my ears. The boy who didn't seem to mind who saw him dressed so crazy, but he cared what Lauren's dad thought. "So did he say anything?" I asked. "Well, he said he liked seeing a kid with so much enthusiasm for his team." I liked this dad. But at the same time, I couldn't help but wonder if this girl could possibly be the future spouse I'd prayed for so often through the years. And what would you think if your daughter seemed crazy about this boy?
Christopher and Lauren graduated from high school, and "just happened" to go to the same college 1000 miles away.
At the end of their first year of college, Lauren's mom, Dee, & I drove to Arizona together. We talked and shared the entire 12 1/2 hours we were in the car together. (The time passed so quickly, it seemed it was maybe a 4 hour drive.) It was amazing to hear the stories of Lauren growing up. I was quite certain this was the little girl I'd prayed about. As we laughed and chattered away, I could see how well these two complemented one another. I suspected a marriage could possibly be in their future, but I didn't want to rush anything. So I tried to do as Mary, and quietly tucked away these thoughts into my heart.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Happy Birthday Christina!!!!
I need to take a little break in the engagement story to celebrate a birthday. Happy 27th Birthday Christina!
A lovely daughter
Sharing secrets sister-to-sister
A fun sister to a brother
The best mom in all the world for Ethan!!!
Friday, April 04, 2008
Details, Details, Details (Part One)
(Follow up of the Celebrate post.)
A little over a month ago, Christopher let me know he was ready to propose to Lauren. He planned to fly to Denver at the end of March to speak to her parents. I was elated, but it was not easy to keep it a secret. But that I did. When my mother-in-law and I were talking one day, she brought the subject up.
"Do you think Christopher will get married to Lauren?"
"Umm...well, I think they've been moving that direction for awhile. We will have to wait and see."
Do you know how difficult that was? Inside the secret was pushing hard, trying to burst forth. It was as if someone was blowing air into that balloon of secrecy, and I was afraid the inevitable would happen. But it didn't.
Sitting around the dinner table last Thursday night, Christopher shared his secret, and swore the family into secrecy. A little bit of the pressure of holding this in escaped. We could speak openly within the confines of our home about the upcoming event. This new freedom brought relief, but it was still a secret.
Christopher met with Lauren's parents the next evening. Driving over to their home, he felt his heart beat a little faster. What was this nervous feeling? He knew it would go well, but he felt a aquiver inside.
Lauren's folks were overjoyed. Since she was born, Rick and Dee had prayed for their only daughter's husband. Twenty-three years later, here he stood, asking for her hand in marriage.
Christopher reminisced about the first time he'd been to their home. An awkward junior kid, who lost his glasses, because he hadn't remembered tucking them in a side pocket of their mini van. What did they think when they found his glasses? Did they pray for him and wonder if he was the one?
On Sunday, Christopher boarded the plane back to Phoenix with the promise that within two weeks the proposal would be made. We'd be free to share their engagement with the world.
I wish I had a picture of them when they were 8th graders. But here is a photo of Senior Prom 2003.
A little over a month ago, Christopher let me know he was ready to propose to Lauren. He planned to fly to Denver at the end of March to speak to her parents. I was elated, but it was not easy to keep it a secret. But that I did. When my mother-in-law and I were talking one day, she brought the subject up.
"Do you think Christopher will get married to Lauren?"
"Umm...well, I think they've been moving that direction for awhile. We will have to wait and see."
Do you know how difficult that was? Inside the secret was pushing hard, trying to burst forth. It was as if someone was blowing air into that balloon of secrecy, and I was afraid the inevitable would happen. But it didn't.
Sitting around the dinner table last Thursday night, Christopher shared his secret, and swore the family into secrecy. A little bit of the pressure of holding this in escaped. We could speak openly within the confines of our home about the upcoming event. This new freedom brought relief, but it was still a secret.
Christopher met with Lauren's parents the next evening. Driving over to their home, he felt his heart beat a little faster. What was this nervous feeling? He knew it would go well, but he felt a aquiver inside.
Lauren's folks were overjoyed. Since she was born, Rick and Dee had prayed for their only daughter's husband. Twenty-three years later, here he stood, asking for her hand in marriage.
Christopher reminisced about the first time he'd been to their home. An awkward junior kid, who lost his glasses, because he hadn't remembered tucking them in a side pocket of their mini van. What did they think when they found his glasses? Did they pray for him and wonder if he was the one?
On Sunday, Christopher boarded the plane back to Phoenix with the promise that within two weeks the proposal would be made. We'd be free to share their engagement with the world.
I wish I had a picture of them when they were 8th graders. But here is a photo of Senior Prom 2003.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
It's been one month since I posted that I had a secret. Last night, I could hardly sleep. That secret danced in my head and my eyes kept popping open. I wanted to shout Hallelujahs and woohoos to anyone who would listen. But it was late, so I waited until this morning.
Lingering visions of tears of joy streaming down Hilary's face as she phoned David to tell him the news. Huddled around my cell phone last night, while it was switched to speaker phone, Sarabeth, Hilary, and I tried to listen to the details. Some of them were missed, as it was hard to contain our whoops of joy and enthusiasm. Pictures, people, I need pictures (so I can share them with all of you.)
Christopher proposed to Lauren last night. There is going to be a wedding! I will have my one & only daughter-in-law. The excitement in the air is unreal. The girls were making declarations of whom they alone were privileged to tell the news too. As you know, I've been dying to share with you all, my blogging buddies.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
One of those mornings
The most unpleasant sound in the morning is standing in the kitchen and hearing your dog wretching behind you, while cooking breakfast and preparing lunches. Worse yet, is not hearing your dog vomit, and slopping in it while wearing fuzzy slipper socks. Ugh!
Let's see...we are on day 21 of this same, stinkin', virus.
Have you ever been called for jury duty? Michael has been wondering why he has never been called. He would really like to have jury duty. A few weeks ago, he received his official notice. Just 2 more weeks and maybe, just maybe, he will be a juror.
Oh, and a week later, I received a jury summons for the Superior Court. Makes me feel, um, superior. It is for the month of May. Let's see, what do I have going on in May...that trip to North Carolina, a graduation and all of the events leading up to it like banquets, baccalaureate, plus all of the end-of-the-school events crammed into the month. I too thought it would be fun to be a juror, now I'm not so sure.
Lastly, this is Autism Awareness Month. I've been spending a lot of time researching autism, and another not-so-well funded or publicized syndrome: Angelman's. Christina took Ethan to the geneticist last week, like she does every year. Each time, it is a new doctor. This doctor remarked that the last geneticist had clinically diagnosed Ethan with Angelman Syndrome.
When he was little, Ethan seemed like he fit this syndrome. He was tested. A defect was found on the same gene, but not exactly the classic defect for diagnosing it. To rule it out or make a diagnosis based on the results, the geneticist requested both parents be tested for this abnormality. If neither parent had it, Ethan would most likely be diagnosed as having Angelman's Syndrome. If one parent had this same defect, and since neither parent has Angelman's syndrome, it would be ruled out that this was the cause of Ethan's issues.
Christina had the test done almost 2 years ago. She did not have the mutation. Ethan's father refused to have the test. Thus, I believe, the reason for Ethan's clinical diagnosis of Angelman Syndrome. (Last week was the first time we'd heard this as his diagnosis.)
It doesn't really matter one way or the other. Ethan will forever be my little angel man.
Let's see...we are on day 21 of this same, stinkin', virus.
Have you ever been called for jury duty? Michael has been wondering why he has never been called. He would really like to have jury duty. A few weeks ago, he received his official notice. Just 2 more weeks and maybe, just maybe, he will be a juror.
Oh, and a week later, I received a jury summons for the Superior Court. Makes me feel, um, superior. It is for the month of May. Let's see, what do I have going on in May...that trip to North Carolina, a graduation and all of the events leading up to it like banquets, baccalaureate, plus all of the end-of-the-school events crammed into the month. I too thought it would be fun to be a juror, now I'm not so sure.
Lastly, this is Autism Awareness Month. I've been spending a lot of time researching autism, and another not-so-well funded or publicized syndrome: Angelman's. Christina took Ethan to the geneticist last week, like she does every year. Each time, it is a new doctor. This doctor remarked that the last geneticist had clinically diagnosed Ethan with Angelman Syndrome.
When he was little, Ethan seemed like he fit this syndrome. He was tested. A defect was found on the same gene, but not exactly the classic defect for diagnosing it. To rule it out or make a diagnosis based on the results, the geneticist requested both parents be tested for this abnormality. If neither parent had it, Ethan would most likely be diagnosed as having Angelman's Syndrome. If one parent had this same defect, and since neither parent has Angelman's syndrome, it would be ruled out that this was the cause of Ethan's issues.
Christina had the test done almost 2 years ago. She did not have the mutation. Ethan's father refused to have the test. Thus, I believe, the reason for Ethan's clinical diagnosis of Angelman Syndrome. (Last week was the first time we'd heard this as his diagnosis.)
It doesn't really matter one way or the other. Ethan will forever be my little angel man.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
I Stand Corrected or Birthing Revisited
After I posted Birthing, I received an email. It was from my dad. It speaks for itself:
I read your blog for today. I hate to have to tell you this, but your
memory is not a whole lot better than mine. I told your mom what
your blog was about concerning the births and she said I needed to let you know that you have some of the details mixed up.
Greg definitely had bigger shoulders than his head, but the water
didn't break until right before his birth. Since it was Christmas day and Dr. Payne was at home enjoying a family get together when they called him to the hospital in the early evening, he forgot to change shoes and he was wearing a brand new pair of shoes. When the water broke, Dr. Payne jumped back as it burst with a gush and the water poured over the table and off onto the floor and on his brand new pair of shoes. He was hoping that it didn't ruin the new shoes.
The out of body experience came when Laurie was born. The water breaking thing was when you were born. So, all four births had some element of surprise and significance.
The night before you were born we went to the drive-in movie. Carolyn and Greg went to sleep in the back of the car and we watched the movie. We got out of the movie and I looked at the gas gauge on the car and said I better get some gas. Only problem was, I spent my last bit of cash for the movie and those were the days before bank cards and ATM's. Plus, I didn't have any credit to get a gas credit card. So, buying gas would have to wait until after the bank opened and I could get some cash. I made the comment, “I sure hope that baby isn't born tonight.”
Your mom said I didn't need to worry about that. Well, sometime during the night, your mom got up for Greg and in so doing, her water broke. She woke me up and told me what happened. I said, oh great and we have to drive clear in to Phoenix this time, instead of Mesa Southside Hospital where Greg was born. The distance was a lot farther and I wasn't sure we had enough gas to make it. I called a friend and got him out of bed and he came down and took us to the hospital while his wife took care of Greg and Carolyn. Even at that, we just barely made it in time. By the time I completed all the check-in paper work and got back to the OB area, they said you had been born. Wow!!
I stand corrected.
I read your blog for today. I hate to have to tell you this, but your
memory is not a whole lot better than mine. I told your mom what
your blog was about concerning the births and she said I needed to let you know that you have some of the details mixed up.
Greg definitely had bigger shoulders than his head, but the water
didn't break until right before his birth. Since it was Christmas day and Dr. Payne was at home enjoying a family get together when they called him to the hospital in the early evening, he forgot to change shoes and he was wearing a brand new pair of shoes. When the water broke, Dr. Payne jumped back as it burst with a gush and the water poured over the table and off onto the floor and on his brand new pair of shoes. He was hoping that it didn't ruin the new shoes.
The out of body experience came when Laurie was born. The water breaking thing was when you were born. So, all four births had some element of surprise and significance.
The night before you were born we went to the drive-in movie. Carolyn and Greg went to sleep in the back of the car and we watched the movie. We got out of the movie and I looked at the gas gauge on the car and said I better get some gas. Only problem was, I spent my last bit of cash for the movie and those were the days before bank cards and ATM's. Plus, I didn't have any credit to get a gas credit card. So, buying gas would have to wait until after the bank opened and I could get some cash. I made the comment, “I sure hope that baby isn't born tonight.”
Your mom said I didn't need to worry about that. Well, sometime during the night, your mom got up for Greg and in so doing, her water broke. She woke me up and told me what happened. I said, oh great and we have to drive clear in to Phoenix this time, instead of Mesa Southside Hospital where Greg was born. The distance was a lot farther and I wasn't sure we had enough gas to make it. I called a friend and got him out of bed and he came down and took us to the hospital while his wife took care of Greg and Carolyn. Even at that, we just barely made it in time. By the time I completed all the check-in paper work and got back to the OB area, they said you had been born. Wow!!
I stand corrected.
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