Well, its finally time - the van is packed, the "stuff" is "stuffed" (instead of just the turkey) and its time to get on the road again. Early in the morning we're headed home. I don't know who is more excited, K or me, but we are all ready, I think to settle in at home and await the arrival of both big men - Santa and Daddy!
We've spent from Labor day to turkey day with the inlaws and it has been a complete God send being able to share C's birth and the task/joy of raising the three kids together, however it is certainly time to move on to our own place and our own lives again. C has never known a day without any one of several adults available to touch, pick up and hold him, and he might just be shell shocked to be stuck with "just" mommy for a while.
On a side note, it will be good to get out before the snow flies on Sunday night. Although we've had flurries off and on and it isn't a huge storm coming, it is enough to make me thankful that we're leaving now.
My next post will likely be delivered from the old homestead down south, and our internet is due to be installed on the afternoon of the 3rd. Wish us luck that Cable One doesn't bite us in the butt (again), as they seem to be the only show in town for non-dial-up on base. grrrrrrrr!
Friday, November 28, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
NF: Military makes sense
NEWS FLASH!!!! The military has done something that makes sense. Or perhaps it was Congress, which would make it even bigger news. When Frank was in the Reserves in Kuwait, he reenlisted. Recently, we received a letter stating that the bonus he received when reenlisting was due to be returned (meaning we needed to repay several thousand dollars) since he did not fulfill his RESERVE contract. OUCH!!!
I finally called again on it, I had always seemed to call after hours or at particularly busy times for them and never got through after an initial contact wherein they told me they couldn't talk to me until they had a copy of our Power of Attorney. Anyway when I got through today they said that there is a new policy, by which anyone who leaves the Reserves to go on active duty without a break in service would no longer be required to repay that Reserve bonus as long as the Active Duty contract would fulfill the time obligation for the Reserve contract bonus.
Long story short, we just wiped what would have been a large amount of debt off of our backs!!!! Wooo Hooooo!!!! I can move that payment into other areas of our budget where it will be well appreciated. Now THAT was a great phone call.
I finally called again on it, I had always seemed to call after hours or at particularly busy times for them and never got through after an initial contact wherein they told me they couldn't talk to me until they had a copy of our Power of Attorney. Anyway when I got through today they said that there is a new policy, by which anyone who leaves the Reserves to go on active duty without a break in service would no longer be required to repay that Reserve bonus as long as the Active Duty contract would fulfill the time obligation for the Reserve contract bonus.
Long story short, we just wiped what would have been a large amount of debt off of our backs!!!! Wooo Hooooo!!!! I can move that payment into other areas of our budget where it will be well appreciated. Now THAT was a great phone call.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
BTW - "they" lie
I know I read somewhere once the story of the "house of 'they'," but whoever "they" are, "they" are also liars. "They"say that it gets easier each time you leave (or your loved one does) but I don't think it does. I'm certainly not a novice at this experience, and I still cry every time.
For anyone who reads this and doesn't know our history, F & I have never spent an unbroken year together in the same place, the whole time. We met in London, the day after I arrived for a two year tour, while he was half way through his two year tour. We started dating in August, and I went home for Christmas, while he stayed in London hosting his parents. By June, he was gone, back to the states to go to school and I remained in London, where he came to visit once, and I came to see him once.
The following June, I left London and returned to the states. When I found a job in NH, I moved there, and F was in school in the same town, so that was good, although he went home to MA for summers and most holidays. Even since we married in May 2004, we have been apart a lot. From his time at the police academy (M-F for 12 weeks? in 2005) to deployments (Kuwait 2006-8mos, this one-8mos), I cry every time he leaves. And if anything, it gets harder.
I think in part it is harder because of the kids now. I know on some level that much of the acting out that follows him leaving is a lack of ability to vocalize how they feel when he leaves/is gone. But its frustrating because even though I know the problem, there isn't anything I can do to fix the problem. I know that we signed on for this, knew what we were getting into, etc. etc. etc. but again, knowing it and being able to deal with it are different animals.
So, we plot his return and have started the countdown. At some point I need to figure out exactly when we'll return to MS. C isn't the best car rider (although he isn't the worst either) so it will be a different drive for sure. I need to think long and hard about when to travel - I don't want to deal with winter driving if I can help it, but we'll see how things go.
On a more positive note, C is 4 weeks old today. He can hold his head up quite well, and I'm amazed at how fast he's growing! Although he seemed to swim in his big Britax carseat (Wizard) at birth, I actually had to raise the headrest the other day, so he's filling that out for sure. He's outgrowing clothes left and right and is starting to look more like a little baby than a newborn, if that makes sense.
For anyone who reads this and doesn't know our history, F & I have never spent an unbroken year together in the same place, the whole time. We met in London, the day after I arrived for a two year tour, while he was half way through his two year tour. We started dating in August, and I went home for Christmas, while he stayed in London hosting his parents. By June, he was gone, back to the states to go to school and I remained in London, where he came to visit once, and I came to see him once.
The following June, I left London and returned to the states. When I found a job in NH, I moved there, and F was in school in the same town, so that was good, although he went home to MA for summers and most holidays. Even since we married in May 2004, we have been apart a lot. From his time at the police academy (M-F for 12 weeks? in 2005) to deployments (Kuwait 2006-8mos, this one-8mos), I cry every time he leaves. And if anything, it gets harder.
I think in part it is harder because of the kids now. I know on some level that much of the acting out that follows him leaving is a lack of ability to vocalize how they feel when he leaves/is gone. But its frustrating because even though I know the problem, there isn't anything I can do to fix the problem. I know that we signed on for this, knew what we were getting into, etc. etc. etc. but again, knowing it and being able to deal with it are different animals.
So, we plot his return and have started the countdown. At some point I need to figure out exactly when we'll return to MS. C isn't the best car rider (although he isn't the worst either) so it will be a different drive for sure. I need to think long and hard about when to travel - I don't want to deal with winter driving if I can help it, but we'll see how things go.
On a more positive note, C is 4 weeks old today. He can hold his head up quite well, and I'm amazed at how fast he's growing! Although he seemed to swim in his big Britax carseat (Wizard) at birth, I actually had to raise the headrest the other day, so he's filling that out for sure. He's outgrowing clothes left and right and is starting to look more like a little baby than a newborn, if that makes sense.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Going too fast!
I know I sound a bit like one of the kids, but why is it the countdown to something good (like Daddy coming home) lasts sooooo much longer than the time or event you've been waiting for? I know that 12 days is not nearly long enough for any of us, but now I'm starting to feel sad and trying to prepare the kids for Monday morning, when F flies out again to Okinawa. I know that H will not understand, although he did say we need to start another countdown calendar for when Daddy comes home again, so perhaps that was a hit after all.
I am just a wimp and can't face the prospect of a countdown that lasts into the hundreds, so perhaps we'll do one for Halloween, Thanksgiving and then Christmas, then daddy coming home, or at least one that incorporates those dates as well. Otherwise, the large number of days that drag on between now and then would just be too overwhelming for me.
I've been spoiled having F home, and just can't face the idea of him leaving again so soon, although I always knew our time would be short for now.
I am just a wimp and can't face the prospect of a countdown that lasts into the hundreds, so perhaps we'll do one for Halloween, Thanksgiving and then Christmas, then daddy coming home, or at least one that incorporates those dates as well. Otherwise, the large number of days that drag on between now and then would just be too overwhelming for me.
I've been spoiled having F home, and just can't face the idea of him leaving again so soon, although I always knew our time would be short for now.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Charles' birth story
This birth story would not be complete unless it began at 34w, even though the birth itself began more than six weeks later…
Having returned from a nine week hiatus from doctor visits, my return to the medical professionals assigned to care for baby and I through the process brought back to reality exactly how “managed” the process of bringing life into the world has become. I certainly don’t fault my doctor – I think she’s fabulous, in fact. However, I did respectfully disagree with her assertion that baby needed to be delivered within weeks 38-39 for the “best possible outcome” due to my diabetes. And so the weekly discussions began about premature extraction of this beloved babe, but bi-weekly testing ensuring that baby was still comfortable eased my mind and I knew that baby would come when baby was ready if we only let him.
At 37w, my first exam showed a small amount of dilation (1.5) and the doctor who did the exam swept my membranes, with my knowledge and consent, in an effort to get things moving. He said that he predicted that baby would arrive within four days. Thankfully, he was very wrong, as the events that followed would have been much harder for all of us had his assertion been correct.
A few days later, after no progress towards labor, we began hearing stirrings and rumblings of a hurricane headed to the Gulf Coast. Living in the heart of “Katrina Country” people were rationally nervous about the potential impact of this storm. I was informed that Keesler AFB would close the hospital and Mother/Baby Unit without advance warning if a determination was made that the storm was headed that direction, and was advised to evacuate somewhere that had a Labor and Delivery department at their hospital. Gee, thanks for that, at nearly 38w pregnant, I’d never have thought of that without the suggestion of the hospital administration.
So, after a few phone calls and much soul searching, and consultation with family, I made the decision to drive up to Massachusetts and have baby surrounded by family who would be able to support us, as well as H and K during my hospital stay. I found a hospital that allowed VBACs (Vaginal birth after cesarean section) and an OB practice who would agree to take on a high risk patient (diabetes and “advanced maternal age”) at 38w pregnant, who was evacuating from a potential hurricane.
And so we began our journey north from Mississippi to Massachusetts, with grandma-to-be along for the drive (and doing most of the driving), with my biggest fears being going into labor in West Virginia (don’t know why I was having nightmares about this unlikely possibility since WV is about 30 minutes of the 23 hour drive) and secondary would have been going into labor at all on the drive.
We arrived safely in MA and I met with a very engaging and encouraging doctor who felt there was no rush to have the baby, knowing my history and medical issues. I returned to bi-weekly Non stress tests (NSTs) and Biophysical Profiles (BPPs) and began the anxious baby-watching sessions. 39w came and went, as did the 40w mark, at which time even this doctor began to feel that it would be a good idea for baby to arrive sooner rather than later, and he set an induction date of Wednesday, September 17th. I was slightly heartbroken at the thought, but also ready to meet our new baby, and after a stressful few weeks, ready to be done, if baby was ready to arrive.
I really didn’t want to be induced. Monday night, my father-in-law and I took a ride in his truck down a bumpy road that he is convinced precipitated the arrival of Frank, baby’s daddy, 34 years before, and went to the drugstore in town to pick up castor oil to choke down to induce the onset of labor. By this point, I was pretty much willing to try anything other than doctor-induced labor.
That night, the kids and I snuggled in and I told them that if they woke up and I wasn’t there, that perhaps I had to go to the doctor to have baby, but that grandma or grandpa would be there to help take care of them or comfort them if they were scared. We all went to sleep before 10:00, a rarity these days, and neither of them woke for a while. I woke up around midnight feeling crampy. I thought it was, perhaps, the side effects of the castor oil, and headed to the bathroom since, well, castor oil is found in the laxative section, if you know what I mean.
For the next two hours I debated whether castor oil really was the most stupid thing I had ever tried, or if I was in labor. When I started having contractions that I couldn’t walk or talk through, I determined it was the latter, and realized that in all of our discussions about baby, hospitals, labor and so on, we had never really discussed the logistics of going into labor – who would drive to the hospital, how I would wake people up, etc.
The stairs at the in-laws are steep and narrow, and I really didn’t think I could make it up them between contractions (did I wait too long?). So, I turned on the light to the stairs outside of their bedroom and “knocked” on the wooden stairs, calling up to them. After a few minutes, my mother-in law came down and I told her I was calling the doctor on-call and that I thought we needed to take a drive to Pittsfield. The doctor on call was surprisingly alert for 2:15 a.m., an occupational hazard, I suppose and I lied and said the contractions were regular (they weren’t) and only a minute or two apart (they were).
And so we left for the hospital, making the 45 minute journey in about 25 minutes thanks largely to no traffic and a driver who kept asking, “Are you sure we don’t want to call an ambulance to meet us?” (God Bless her!) We checked in at about 2:45 a.m. and were rushed up to the Mother/Baby unit. By 3:00 I was “safely” ensconced in a hospital bed with fairly strong and regular contractions. Dilated to 5, I knew I wasn’t leaving without a baby and even then, it wouldn’t be that morning, but rather a day or so later when we were finally able to leave. I also knew we wouldn’t be keeping that induction appointment.
By the time I was dilated to about 7, 4:30 a.m. or so, I asked for some stadol, a lovely narcotic I was familiar with from Henry’s birth. Once I had that in my system, it was easier to relax through each resting period between contractions, and I was almost able to sleep in little 30-45 second bits (my “naps”). By the time 5:00 rolled around, I was starting to wonder why on earth people actually attempted labor when it was so much “easier” and less painful to have the baby extracted through c-section. By 5:15 I was annoyed that there weren’t better drugs available to laboring mothers. By 5:25, all I wanted to do was curl up on my side and take a nap. I mentioned it to the nurse, and she said, “go ahead and try.” As soon as I curled my legs up next to me to “sleep,” I felt baby shift and begin to arrive and I knew that my much desired nap would have to wait a bit longer.
Doc came in and after a few pushes, he told me to ease up or I’d tear, but by this point, all I wanted to do was push. I got baby’s head out, and doc wanted me to push, but I was between contractions on a short “nap” and refused for all of 15 seconds or so until the next few contractions and baby was out! Just before baby was born, I remembered to ask that no one tell me boy or girl, as Frank had always done this, and I didn’t want anyone else to do it. Instead, they gave me baby, pretty much right away and I held our little man, definitely a boy, while grandma cut the cord and they wiped him down a bit. Charles was born at 5:39 a.m. on September 16th.
I was able to nurse him, and snuggle him before he was taken for “just a minute” to get weighed and such. I asked why it couldn’t be done in the room and was very annoyed and concerned when they took him. I had a bad feeling, which I should have listened to. They gave Charles his first bath without me there, and I didn’t get to help or take pictures or anything. They also gave him a vitamin K shot, without my permission or knowledge and put unnecessary eye ointment in, again without asking me. All-in-all they had him for nearly two hours, all the while I kept asking where he was and why he was still not back. I didn’t know how much he weighed or how long he was, so while I made a few phone calls, I had no real news other than that he was a beautiful and perfect little man and that he was here.
When the nurse brought him back, she said she had gotten “busy” which was not a good enough explanation in my opinion, but alone and tired it was a little hard to work up my usual backbone to argue and besides, it had already been done so at this point it would be merely howling at the moon.
Grandma brought the kids to meet their new brother early that afternoon, and although they wanted to see me, I think they were pretty indifferent to the little bundle of brother in my arms. They much preferred the sticker books and crayons that the nurse gave them.
Just after noon, we moved into a different room and settled in. No internet access and a hospital policy of 48 hours if you don’t have visiting nurses benefits within your insurance policy made for a long stay, but they took pretty good care of us, although they were annoyed that I didn’t “need” any pain medications or other assistance (drug pushers!). I explained that I had stayed in the hospital a shorter period of time for my c-section and that I was very low maintenance, but all the same we were glad to leave on Thursday morning.
Having returned from a nine week hiatus from doctor visits, my return to the medical professionals assigned to care for baby and I through the process brought back to reality exactly how “managed” the process of bringing life into the world has become. I certainly don’t fault my doctor – I think she’s fabulous, in fact. However, I did respectfully disagree with her assertion that baby needed to be delivered within weeks 38-39 for the “best possible outcome” due to my diabetes. And so the weekly discussions began about premature extraction of this beloved babe, but bi-weekly testing ensuring that baby was still comfortable eased my mind and I knew that baby would come when baby was ready if we only let him.
At 37w, my first exam showed a small amount of dilation (1.5) and the doctor who did the exam swept my membranes, with my knowledge and consent, in an effort to get things moving. He said that he predicted that baby would arrive within four days. Thankfully, he was very wrong, as the events that followed would have been much harder for all of us had his assertion been correct.
A few days later, after no progress towards labor, we began hearing stirrings and rumblings of a hurricane headed to the Gulf Coast. Living in the heart of “Katrina Country” people were rationally nervous about the potential impact of this storm. I was informed that Keesler AFB would close the hospital and Mother/Baby Unit without advance warning if a determination was made that the storm was headed that direction, and was advised to evacuate somewhere that had a Labor and Delivery department at their hospital. Gee, thanks for that, at nearly 38w pregnant, I’d never have thought of that without the suggestion of the hospital administration.
So, after a few phone calls and much soul searching, and consultation with family, I made the decision to drive up to Massachusetts and have baby surrounded by family who would be able to support us, as well as H and K during my hospital stay. I found a hospital that allowed VBACs (Vaginal birth after cesarean section) and an OB practice who would agree to take on a high risk patient (diabetes and “advanced maternal age”) at 38w pregnant, who was evacuating from a potential hurricane.
And so we began our journey north from Mississippi to Massachusetts, with grandma-to-be along for the drive (and doing most of the driving), with my biggest fears being going into labor in West Virginia (don’t know why I was having nightmares about this unlikely possibility since WV is about 30 minutes of the 23 hour drive) and secondary would have been going into labor at all on the drive.
We arrived safely in MA and I met with a very engaging and encouraging doctor who felt there was no rush to have the baby, knowing my history and medical issues. I returned to bi-weekly Non stress tests (NSTs) and Biophysical Profiles (BPPs) and began the anxious baby-watching sessions. 39w came and went, as did the 40w mark, at which time even this doctor began to feel that it would be a good idea for baby to arrive sooner rather than later, and he set an induction date of Wednesday, September 17th. I was slightly heartbroken at the thought, but also ready to meet our new baby, and after a stressful few weeks, ready to be done, if baby was ready to arrive.
I really didn’t want to be induced. Monday night, my father-in-law and I took a ride in his truck down a bumpy road that he is convinced precipitated the arrival of Frank, baby’s daddy, 34 years before, and went to the drugstore in town to pick up castor oil to choke down to induce the onset of labor. By this point, I was pretty much willing to try anything other than doctor-induced labor.
That night, the kids and I snuggled in and I told them that if they woke up and I wasn’t there, that perhaps I had to go to the doctor to have baby, but that grandma or grandpa would be there to help take care of them or comfort them if they were scared. We all went to sleep before 10:00, a rarity these days, and neither of them woke for a while. I woke up around midnight feeling crampy. I thought it was, perhaps, the side effects of the castor oil, and headed to the bathroom since, well, castor oil is found in the laxative section, if you know what I mean.
For the next two hours I debated whether castor oil really was the most stupid thing I had ever tried, or if I was in labor. When I started having contractions that I couldn’t walk or talk through, I determined it was the latter, and realized that in all of our discussions about baby, hospitals, labor and so on, we had never really discussed the logistics of going into labor – who would drive to the hospital, how I would wake people up, etc.
The stairs at the in-laws are steep and narrow, and I really didn’t think I could make it up them between contractions (did I wait too long?). So, I turned on the light to the stairs outside of their bedroom and “knocked” on the wooden stairs, calling up to them. After a few minutes, my mother-in law came down and I told her I was calling the doctor on-call and that I thought we needed to take a drive to Pittsfield. The doctor on call was surprisingly alert for 2:15 a.m., an occupational hazard, I suppose and I lied and said the contractions were regular (they weren’t) and only a minute or two apart (they were).
And so we left for the hospital, making the 45 minute journey in about 25 minutes thanks largely to no traffic and a driver who kept asking, “Are you sure we don’t want to call an ambulance to meet us?” (God Bless her!) We checked in at about 2:45 a.m. and were rushed up to the Mother/Baby unit. By 3:00 I was “safely” ensconced in a hospital bed with fairly strong and regular contractions. Dilated to 5, I knew I wasn’t leaving without a baby and even then, it wouldn’t be that morning, but rather a day or so later when we were finally able to leave. I also knew we wouldn’t be keeping that induction appointment.
By the time I was dilated to about 7, 4:30 a.m. or so, I asked for some stadol, a lovely narcotic I was familiar with from Henry’s birth. Once I had that in my system, it was easier to relax through each resting period between contractions, and I was almost able to sleep in little 30-45 second bits (my “naps”). By the time 5:00 rolled around, I was starting to wonder why on earth people actually attempted labor when it was so much “easier” and less painful to have the baby extracted through c-section. By 5:15 I was annoyed that there weren’t better drugs available to laboring mothers. By 5:25, all I wanted to do was curl up on my side and take a nap. I mentioned it to the nurse, and she said, “go ahead and try.” As soon as I curled my legs up next to me to “sleep,” I felt baby shift and begin to arrive and I knew that my much desired nap would have to wait a bit longer.
Doc came in and after a few pushes, he told me to ease up or I’d tear, but by this point, all I wanted to do was push. I got baby’s head out, and doc wanted me to push, but I was between contractions on a short “nap” and refused for all of 15 seconds or so until the next few contractions and baby was out! Just before baby was born, I remembered to ask that no one tell me boy or girl, as Frank had always done this, and I didn’t want anyone else to do it. Instead, they gave me baby, pretty much right away and I held our little man, definitely a boy, while grandma cut the cord and they wiped him down a bit. Charles was born at 5:39 a.m. on September 16th.
I was able to nurse him, and snuggle him before he was taken for “just a minute” to get weighed and such. I asked why it couldn’t be done in the room and was very annoyed and concerned when they took him. I had a bad feeling, which I should have listened to. They gave Charles his first bath without me there, and I didn’t get to help or take pictures or anything. They also gave him a vitamin K shot, without my permission or knowledge and put unnecessary eye ointment in, again without asking me. All-in-all they had him for nearly two hours, all the while I kept asking where he was and why he was still not back. I didn’t know how much he weighed or how long he was, so while I made a few phone calls, I had no real news other than that he was a beautiful and perfect little man and that he was here.
When the nurse brought him back, she said she had gotten “busy” which was not a good enough explanation in my opinion, but alone and tired it was a little hard to work up my usual backbone to argue and besides, it had already been done so at this point it would be merely howling at the moon.
Grandma brought the kids to meet their new brother early that afternoon, and although they wanted to see me, I think they were pretty indifferent to the little bundle of brother in my arms. They much preferred the sticker books and crayons that the nurse gave them.
Just after noon, we moved into a different room and settled in. No internet access and a hospital policy of 48 hours if you don’t have visiting nurses benefits within your insurance policy made for a long stay, but they took pretty good care of us, although they were annoyed that I didn’t “need” any pain medications or other assistance (drug pushers!). I explained that I had stayed in the hospital a shorter period of time for my c-section and that I was very low maintenance, but all the same we were glad to leave on Thursday morning.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Charles in Charge!
Join me in welcoming Charles Joseph to our little family! He is a tall, skinny little man and utterly adorable! Now we await Daddy's visit to meet him!
Friday, September 12, 2008
Eviction pending
Well, baby is on alert that eviction is pending if he or she fails to make an appearance on his or her own by Wednesday. So, five days or less and we'll have three kids - gulp! At my appointment today, doc said that baby really needs to be born sooner rather than later or risk some of the complications that overdue babies face, combined with diabetes, "advanced maternal age," and blah blah blah, the benefits of induction are now outweighing the risks and I feel a little more inclined to agree to it.
I'm currently dilated to 2.5-3ish and still only 50% effaced, but progress is progress and at least that means that according to the doc if we do have to resort to induction, it will not involve the gel, just the pitocin and possibly rupture of membranes at some point. The pitocin does increase the risk of tears and such from the c-section scar, but its about all I can do for now.
We'll see how it goes - hopefully baby comes before then anyway. Uncle C is still holding out hope for his birthday tomorrow. Doc did sweep membranes today, which is likely to lead to labor in theory, however nothing yet and its been five hours, so here's to holding out hope...
I'm currently dilated to 2.5-3ish and still only 50% effaced, but progress is progress and at least that means that according to the doc if we do have to resort to induction, it will not involve the gel, just the pitocin and possibly rupture of membranes at some point. The pitocin does increase the risk of tears and such from the c-section scar, but its about all I can do for now.
We'll see how it goes - hopefully baby comes before then anyway. Uncle C is still holding out hope for his birthday tomorrow. Doc did sweep membranes today, which is likely to lead to labor in theory, however nothing yet and its been five hours, so here's to holding out hope...
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