Sunday, April 27, 2008


Having Norah around has greatly increased my TV viewing.

I think to myself, Well shoot, I could spend my time reading, or listening to music, or just being quiet. I don't need the TV. But I never get further than simply thinking those things. I keep the TV on most of the day, partly because I like having people talking during the day. Norah talks, but mostly in grunts and squeals so I feel I need a little grown up talk.

This TV viewing increase has started to have affects on me.

My absolute favorite show is What Not to Wear. There is something so addictive about watching people transform from crazy nutjobs into beautifully glowing fashion gods and goddesses. I love the idea of having $5000 to spend on new clothes, and often fantasize about what I would do if I was on the show. And, I think Clinton and Stacy are hi-lar-ious. So mean. So snappy. So sarcastic.

Yesterday Rusty and I took Norah to the Dogwood Festival in Siloam. The Dogwood Festival is a craft fair of sorts that takes up the entire city park area. There are booths full of crafty things that you can look at while devouring a turkey leg or a funnel cake or both. The Dogwood Festival is quite an event, drawing tons of people to itself. As I'm sure you know well, where there are tons of people, there are tons of crazily dressed people. And yesterday, I morphed into some kind of ClintonStacy wannabe as a man wearing orange cargo shorts, a black and white checked button-down, and brown clunky sandals walked past me. I looked at him, and without even realizing it thought Shut up! You look like a picnic table threw up on you!

It was sad.

A few days ago I watched Gilmore Girls. Lorelei and Sooki were at Miss Patty's dance recital and were horrified when small children began dancing in the aisles as part of the show. They became even more terrified as the children blew handfuls of glitter confetti into their faces.

This morning, the worship team was not at their appointed place in the front of the church, but was spread out in the aisles. And I thought to myself Oh. My. Goodness. They better not blow glitter confetti into my face.

I need to stop watching TV before I completely lose it.

Monday, April 21, 2008

Waiting with Bated Breath I'm Sure

The crazy of the past two weeks is on the downward slope. I have done nothing today except:
a) sleep in
b) coo over how cute Norah is
c) kiss Norah
d) munch on Norah's thighs
e) watch TV
f) wash several loads of laundry as I am officially out of clothes, and Rusty has no socks
It's been a restful day. Perhaps I can muster the strength to write the story of Norah's birth.

Friday April 4th

I go to my 39 week doctor's appointment and end up having slightly elevated blood pressure. When Dr comes in to do the dreaded pelvic exam he asks me how I am, and I respond "Arghumhuff, I'm tired of being pregnant" and he responds "Well, we'll see what we can do about that". After the dreaded pelvic exam he explains the possibility of preeclampsia and tells me he wants to induce labor on Monday. I think I could probably kiss him. But I don't.

Saturday April 5th

I eat Arby's and take a walk around Wal-Mart. After a full day and little baby movement I think Rusty and I should go to the hospital to determine the status of the baby. We go to the hospital and Dr confirms. No change in the uterus. You were probably just peeing on yourself and your baby is sleeping. Dummy. Rusty and I go home and I bounce up and down on my exercise ball like there is no tomorrow.

Sunday April 6th

We see an otter in the creek. That is all.

Monday April 7th

At 6:25 in the morning we arrive at the hospital. About an hour later we have signed all the papers, I have donned a stylish hospital gown and am properly attached to a Pitocin drip, a regular IV, a blood pressure checker, a baby heart monitor and a contraction monitor and we are ready to roll. I tell Carol to get me some ice from Sonic, because surely I am going to need them within the hour, because surely, we will have this baby by lunch.

11am rolls around, and while we do not have a baby, at least the hospital gets TLC, which means I can watch What Not to Wear.

After What Not to Wear, still no baby, but I have peed 8568 times. Peeing is quite a feat considering all the contraptions I am hooked up to. In fact, peeing is about the only thing that is going on. At this rate, I'll have the baby by next Tuesday.

I'm pretty tired of lying in bed, so I get up again and bounce around on my exercise ball. While bouncing, my water breaks. Onto the ball, and the floor, and more on the floor. I laugh, because geez, having your water break feels alot like peeing your pants.

Up to this point, I've been having semi-regular contractions, but they are more uncomfortable than anything. I think to myself, "Shoot I can handle this" but somewhere in the back of my head I know that once my water breaks they get worse. And I am right. Oh, am I ever right. About 30 minutes into post-water breaking contractions I look at Rusty and say "I'm done." He thinks I mean I'm done, I'm not having this baby. What I really mean is, Holy crap I'm not having this baby unless I get some drugs. Drugs! Give me Drugs! We have Hours ahead of us you crazy man! Get the Drugs!

Rusty is a smart man. He gets the Drugs. And let me tell you what, having the epidural put in was terrifying because just as the man had a needle in my back and what doing his thing I had a contraction and then the blood pressure checker went off and started squeezing my arm and it was all I could do to push my face into my pillow and cry and try not to move around because shoot, that guy has a needle in my back. He finished and I about lost it, blubbering and crying and thinking Why aren't the Drugs working yet?

Soon the drugs start to work, and you know that feeling when your arm falls asleep? When you touch it you can feel your hand touching something but it might as well be touching a block of wood because your arm can't feel a darn thing? Well, that's how I felt from my chest to my toes. And it was Awesome. The previously crying and silent woman suddenly became bubbly and happy, cracking jokes and eating Jello. I kept thinking to myself, Dooce was right, I want to give all my friends epidurals for Christmas!

After a few happy hours of the Drugs, I become uncomfortable. That's the only way I can describe it, I'm just uncomfortable. Nothing makes me happy, no position is good, I'm just uncomfortable. And then the shaking begins. Uncontrollable, obnoxious, teeth-chattering, whole body shaking. And still uncomfortable, like I need to poop but I can't because I my legs are dead and I am attached to lots of machines. I tell the nurse that I feel like I need to poop, so she checks my cervix, and I think at this point I am dialated to 5, though I could be wrong about that. All I know is, I kind of wanted to hit that woman because she didn't tell me I could push and all I wanted to do was push.

Dr comes in just as the basketball championship begins to see how I am, and he suggests that maybe we'll have this baby by the end of the game. So I begin to judge how much longer I have by how much time is left in the game. And those stupid basketball players won't hurry up! They keep taking time-outs and shooting free throws, and what is with all the commercials?!?!?!

The game is almost over and the nurse comes to check me again, because I still just really want to push. And she tells me I am dialated to 9! 9! Almost done! Almost time to push! Yahoo!

Finally, I can push, and let me tell you, that is the most satisfying thing I have ever done in my life. Between contractions I chat and joke with the nurse and say "Wow, this is the easiest, best part of the whole thing!" I will soon change my mind on that one. The contractions are coming faster, and the pushing is harder and suddenly I'm pushing so hard I'm crying again. And because I'm crying I can't breathe. And because I can't breathe I'm crying harder. It's cyclical. And I think to myself, I'm going to die.

I am dramatic.

The nurse calls Dr in because we are almost done. With the Dr comes all kinds of other people. I have no idea why there are so many people in the room, but really I don't care because pushing is not fun anymore. Dr tells me to push one more time, Norah's head is out and as I push one last time, the rest of Norah emerges, but not before showering almost everyone in the room with fluid. Ha! This girl is a hoot, straight from the womb!

And then, I get to hold her. And I'm still crying, but at least I can breathe again. She's beautiful and healthy and I can't describe how I feel. Overwhelmed, maybe. Dazed, perhaps. And totally in love with my family.

Saturday, April 19, 2008


Well, this has been one heck of a week. I'm not really sure how to write about what's been happening.

For now, I'm very tired.

If you would, please pray for the Bland/Rogers/Perkins families. We'd really appreciate it.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

The Jaundice and Me

Holy smokes. I haven't even told you about Norah being born and now I have to tell you about going back to the hospital when she was only 7 days old. 7 days!

Be warned, this post will likely be much more dramatic than is really necessary, but sheesh, I was a little more dramatic than necessary.

You see, my head knew when Norah's doctor told me that her bilirubin levels were high and she needed to be admitted that everything was going to be fine. My head knew that this happens to breastfed babies, and it was simply a matter of letting her bask in some blue lights for a while. My head knew I was not a negligent mommy, that I hadn't done anything wrong, and that her having jaundice was not a sign of me not loving her enough.
But my heart did not listen to a word of that logic.

So when Norah's doctor talked to me about jaundice, all I heard was Brain Damage! Liver Function! Negligent! You don't love your baby! Weep Weep Sob! And my heart was the one that made me all blubbery and weepy for approximately two days.

I knew that having a baby was going to make me vulnerable to all kinds of new pains and fears. I knew that I was going to love her enough to hurt. But I did not imagine what that love would do to me. And as much as I tried to chill out when I saw her in her little lighted bed, arms and legs splayed out, as much as I tried to keep it together when she wailed as they pricked her tiny foot, I don't know that I did very well.

But just so you know, Norah is fine. We left the hospital this morning and my heart has finally gotten on track with my head. I know she's going to be ok, I know that we're going to be ok. But shoot, I just love that baby.

At least she got some cool shades.

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Precious Little Puke Face

Remember that one time when I wrote about having a reality TV show about my life? And remember how I wanted to name an entire section of it "Bodily Fluids"?

Yesterday we could have taped the first of those episodes.

It began with Norah's early morning feeding, sometime around 4 am. This feeding is particularly hard for me. My body does not like to function at that hour, having slept through that hour every night for the past....21 years. So, at 4 AM I fumble over to the bassinette, lay Norah down and pull out a clean diaper. But in the twelve seconds it takes me to take off the old one and put on the new one, Norah rips out an explosive fart, pooping all over the place. Then she pees on herself as well. Not one to freak out, I merely put on the diaper, wipe her down, take off her clothes and wrap her back in her blanket. No problem.

Later that afternoon we were preparing to run to Wal-Mart to get the poor kid some clothes that fit her. She's not a tiny baby, but certainly too small for newborn clothes. Rusty picked her up and heard the tiny symphony of her bowels, but since we knew we would be back quickly and were guessing she wasn't done yet, we left her diaper as it was. By the time we got back she had peed all the way through her diaper. Excellent.

Then, last night she peed on herself again, just before barfing all over herself, her blanket, my arm, and our bed. And no, this was not some cute newborn spit up. It was honest to goodness newborn barf.

Thursday, April 10, 2008


Still working on the birth story. It is brewing as we speak. But for now I will just say, Norah makes my heart all achy and melty.

And Rusty? Is the cutest daddy ever.

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Watermelon Baby

I have A TON to write but I am very tired and my brain is still not working. However I cannot leave the blog-o-world uninformed a moment longer.

Monday night at 11:26 after about 16 hours of labor Norah Anne made her first appearance. With a splash (I'll explain later). She weighed 6 pounds 12 ounces and was 19 inches long. And she has hair. Black hair! Where in the heck she got black hair, I have no idea.

I'll write more later.

Sunday, April 6, 2008

First Things First

This picture so perfectly illustrates Squid and the issues he has with pooping in the litterbox, it almost makes me want to cry.

humorous pictures
see more crazy cat pics

Friday, April 4, 2008

Wishful Thinking

If only heartburn, indigestion and belching were signs of labor. Then I would be on my way to the hospital faster than you can say "TumTumTumTumTums!"

Tuesday, April 1, 2008


If I had to sum up pregnancy into one tagline, this would be it.

Pregnancy: Nine months of fighting with my pants.