(get your mind out of the gutter)

I’ve been tweaking the site, I think I’ve been feeling bored since I’m not going under major blog upheaval like Lotus and Veronica and Hotfessional and Heidi and E.

Minor adjustments like color and font. I did make the page wider, which, with my luck will now be just slightly annoying to everyone – if anything is jacked up for you that wasn’t jacked up last week, let me know. Kthxbai.

(Anyone with child – you might want to skip this post.)

I found out this week that my cousin miscarried her baby. I found out through a cryptic email from my Dad to the family asking everyone to pray for cousin and her husband. I confirmed with Deacon what had happened – but there was more to it.

Twins.

She lost twins.

My cousin and I aren’t close. Truth be told, we probably don’t care for each other that much, although we disregard each other so much that we really have never taken the time to find out if we like each other or not.

She and her husband have been married for 6 years. She’s pretty into her niece and nephews. It had been long enough that I was afraid that her not being a mom wasn’t her choice, so in my way, I was really happy for her when I found out she was pregnant. I watched from afar as she and her husband told my grandma.

She looked so happy.

It’s bothered me all week about whether or not I should say something. And what to say even if I’m in a position to say something. It’s stuck with me all. week. long.

***

I checked my spam folder tonight and there was an email from a high school friend. One of those people I was really close to at one point in time, but we’ve drifted over the years. She has a son I haven’t met.

She emailed me to tell me she’s miscarried. Again. Twice in less than a year. This time at 17 weeks. She’s so hurt and so shocked that it happened again.

Se told me this baby was a boy like the last one. She told me she knows that they are in heaven taking care of each other. Which just broke me.

But after having this close to my heart all week, I had words, I felt like I could at least say something and not leave her with empty silence.

I wrote I was sorry, and I knew sorry wasn’t enough.

I wrote sometimes God is a big ole toad, and I hated that his plan was so opposite hers.

I wrote that those babies matter, and her dreams about them matter very, very much.

I wrote that I’m far away, but if she needs someone to read what she had to say about things, that I would read.

***

I hope it was enough. I hope the words were okay.

(Ten Steps for Creating Breast Health)

Pretending Scout is in the next room. All alone, I watch the baby twitching ….
So Scout is back in MN for a few days and I am solo flying this parenting thing. I kept today low key as I destroyed morning nap by waking him twice getting him out of the car. I also started bath routine at 645 instead of 800 b/c I knew I was eitehr going to end up with a nap on my hands or an extremely tired baby if I tried to wait till 8. As it was I still got more protesting than I’ve had for the last week. Finally put him in the swing and fell asleep, I got him out when the cat wanted to roam around and it’s easier to keep an eye on the baby than the cat. He slept for the better part of three hours, which is a good thing. Now I’m watching him snuff around and do the light baby sleep thing.

Tomorrow we will hit Georgetown and look at antiques. Seems like something I can do where he can nap on the ride up there and hang out in the sling and either sleep or watch what’s around us. Guess I’ll have to pump in the car or something. We’ll see.

I want my husband.

Not Alex – mine.

Today I drove in the land of vices for the first time. I did not get lost. I did not cuss. I found the local co-op grocery store, I found THE most awesome Craftsman inspired furniture store where I mentally spent more than the balance left on my car, I found Scout’s office, I got rained on.

I found the first thing about the land of vices that I find endearing. While on a four lane street with a median, a firetruck came barrelling down on my ass. I was several cars back from the light when I realized what was happening and I didn’t know quite what to do – I’ve been in the suburbs long enough to know that people don’t tend to get out the way like they should.

Welcome to the land of vices folks – when they see emergency personnel they get OUT THE WAY (the word “of” has been purposely deleted). Cars actually bailed to the curb, the sidewalk and the median.

Sumbitch. : )

Here we go. We spent three days travelling to the land of vices. Two days looking for a house. Tonight we bid on an awesome house too expensive but we’ll figure it out. Tomorrow Scout starts at the office so we are now beginning the new normal. Alex still wakes up if not held/kept close while he sleeps. We keep trying to help this change, we just haven’t been able to yet – and the last week of course has a pantload of reasons why.

Anyway. Last night we went to Culvers and my custard came with a straw and Scout’s came with a spoon. Now this is some seriously thick stuff. I said “If I can suck this custard through a straw then you are a seriously lucky man”.

So tonight Scout seemed stressed and I asked him if was okay. He asked me to define okay. I said “Is there something I should be doing besides this (putting food away in the freezer) to help you?”

As soon as I asked… I just knew….

“Well how’s your peanut butter custard through a straw coming along?”

to which I responded with how pervy it would be to do that while trading off on who was in charge of holding the baby.

Last night my brother bought us dinner from Heaven on Seven. Generally known as the place Scout and I could eat every day until we die – and only available in Chicago. We planned dinner a week in advance.

I had left overs, which is a joy of HoS because you get the love twice.

So we got on the road today, leftovers sitting beside me, fresh from the fridge. Because of the spice you don’t really have to heat them up, and I’m pretty sure it’s impossible for a serving of food to go bad because the spice would cauterize any bacteria that would try to harm you. That and getting ptomaine from the food of the Gods just seems impossible.

Day two of traveling with Tiny Kaiser was better – still took pretty much as long even though we went half the distance of the day before, we just took longer breaks when he needed a break, rather than waiting for him to completely lose his shit like we did yesterday (live and learn).

We got the hotel and rather than being able to plop face down on the bed and do nothing, we had to be all “good baby!” “good kitty!” to the baby and kitty respectively. This made them happy, which in turn made them less angrily vocal, which in the end made us happy, even though we only saw results on the back end rather than the immediate gratification of total silence that we would have had 8 weeks and a couple of days ago.

Scout crashed on the bed with Baby Kaiser (b/c Baby Kaiser still will wake up if left to sleep “alone” (ie not being within TK arms length of a parent)) I set about eating my leftovers.

Now with our new time zone (We’re Eastern now) it was past ten pm and our food of the day consisted of breakfast/lunch at Cracker Barrel south of Gary, Indiana and shakes at a Steak and Shake somewhere in Indiana (both stops were for the Kaiser’s benefit – see above statement re: “shit losing, prevention”. Dinner never happened.

Neither did silverware. Now etouffe isn’t exactly finger food. But desperate times, measures etc. So I sat on the bed and ate every other bite off of my fingers – the bites I didn’t eat went to Scout – straight from my fingers to his mouth. Yes yes, we realize this is normally more of a strawberries and chocolate kind of vision – but this worked for us.

Our strange little family in a Marriott Courtyard, Kaiser sleeping on Scout, Scout and I eating cold left over cajun food from my fingers (with one mini fudge stripe cookie each for us for dessert), Kitty curled up in her kennel for the pretty much 23rd hour of today b/c when we try to put her in the bathroom so she can stretch out, she just cries for us – apparently being in the kennel near her people is better than lots of room all alone.

Love’s a funny little thing.

Traveling with tiny baby Alex is rough. He’s not fan of the long trip. He cried so much yesterday that he’s still hoarse today. Poor boy.

The good thing is that we all slept like rocks last night.

There is not enough monry to make me go back to work full time. I’m gonna take all my degrees and raise my boy.

So I have been reading about babies. Specifically about sleep. I went to BN yesterday and got Susannah and Trinny books, Touchpoints, and the Pantley sleep book.

Alex has that shit screaming session in the evening that is just NOT fun.

So.

1. Brazelton says the majority of the babies in his practice have that evening scream-a-thon and that he thinks it’s a neurological rebooting of some sort. Basically, if so many babies do it then there must be a reason for it.

2. Pantley says if you miss your baby’s cues that you will wind up with a screamer.

3. Someone else (I do a lot of reading online in the middle of the night, so I’m fuzzy on citations) said one key to sleep is EARLY EARLY EARLY, like 530pm if necessary.

4. Person at work who said she did a ton of reading on sleep and has had her son sleeping “through the night” (till 4am is the definition of that in their house) said that even though it’s counterintuitive that often babies get overtired and putting them to bed earlier helps them sleep longer at night (I know, makes no sense, but there you have it.)

So. When the Tiny Kaiser Baby Schu was winding down at 5pm I said “Well, I want to try to keep him to sleep and see if we can miss baby screamfest”

It’s 905 and we’re still on a roll, some patting and feeding and shhhhhhhing but sleeping. Wheeeee! Now we’ll see if the flip side is true – that he won’t be wide freaking awake at 4am.

What looks like Scout, sleeps like me, doesn’t sleep me, eats like me, likes clothes like me and likes the same textures as me?

My Mini Me!

And I thought I had to have a girl to have a Mini Me. Crazy talk. The lessons just keep on coming.

So to celebrate Alex’s one month birthday, his daddy and I are going to counseling. Hm.

Hm. It seems that my postpartum blues/depression may be emerging in a way I hadn’t anticipated. I’ve expected to end up back on the happy pills, something which actually seemed to comfort the terrific discharge nurse I had in the hospital. She and I were already seeing eye to eye and when she started the postpartum depression spiel I told her I already had a history of depression, and that if it hit, it would take me a few days, maybe a week, to realize what had happened, and at that point I’d take care of it.

Apparently my episodes are going to be characterized by anger. Big anger. Not at Alex. At that other male in the house.

In 11 years I have never wanted to voluntarily pack my shit and leave. Tonight ….. tonight if I wouldn’t have been busy holding this perfect baby I think I would have done my husband harm and then packed up and left.

Perhaps I should mention this at my 6 week appt.

(I say perhaps because I’m trying to be cute. This will for sure come up in 2 weeks at my appointment.)