Thump, thump, thump. Is this thing on?
After pretty much a year away, except for an epic birth store blog, I think I might try to resurrect this ole' blog on our family life.
Since the hubs is on a July - June sort of schedule, our world still feels some ties to the school calendar, even though nothing really changes much for him between June 30 and July 1. But, the 2010-2011 has been one for the books.
I think we'll look back on this year and think, "Wow, that was an exhausting year." But, also it has been one that we will be able to look back on as a source of hope. It's been hard, but God's been faithful to our little family and we can testify to that and remember that.
So, without further ado or comment on my lack of documentation of my childrens' lives, here we go with this year (minus July).
Friday, August 5, 2011
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Ty's Birth
If you don't want to know all the gory details, please, please, please stop here. And, this is the first time I've written this down (I know, I know, I should really have written it in a journal somewhere, but here's the truth - I'm a wishful, but failed, journaler. It just doesn't happen.), so it is very, very long and with lots of details that I just want to remember. So, if you don't want to know how far dilated I was at 8 am, you've been warned.
----
The week before Ty was born was a busy one. Matt had his final week of vacation of intern year. We hosted my father-in-law, took both cars in to get worked on (found out one pretty much needed to be replaced), went to doctor's appointments, went on a final date night. In the in between hours, I hit some serious nesting - scrubbed floors, toilets, blinds, trash cans, washed laundry every night, compulsively bought toilet paper and toiletries. It was bad. I think we got enough laundry detergent to last a good nine months.
Knox was born at a nice 38 weeks and 5 days. That day rolled around and I went to my regularly scheduled OB appointment. With Knox, I hadn't ever been "checked" before I went into labor, and hadn't been this time either. But, I had been having lots of contractions this time around and they had kept me up the night before (much like the days before Knox arrived), so while I was there, I asked Dr. Tate to check things out. In the mean time, another patient had suddenly gone into labor and needed Dr. Tate to come immediately. I think he actually sprinted out of the room after seeing me - one of the twists of seeing a solo practitioner. I think we were only at a 1-2, so nothing big. I mainly wanted to know if I could hang out at home for a while or did we need to hurry whenever it was time.
There is a restaurant in Atlanta, Scalinis, that has a reputation for sending women into labor if you eat their eggplant Parmesan. Since it was Matt's vacation, we had talked about going, just for fun. It was laughable. We were seated in a dining room with no less than 4 very pregnant women. I don't think I even needed to tell our waitress what I wanted to order. The deal is, if you have a baby within 48 hours of your dinner (you have to let them log you in to a very large book, with your name, the date and time of your dinner), you get a $25 gift certificate, a shirt for the baby, and you can bring a picture of the baby for them to put on their wall (you have to prove your baby's date and time of birth with their birth certificate), so either it is a really cool tradition, or they are stealing identities of tons of babies in the Atlanta area. Or they are planning ahead for some future major identity fraud - way, way ahead.
I'm not sure if you can credit Scalini's or just good timing since I was having regular contractions all through dinner (though, they were more like 10 minutes apart). Regardless, later that night, things seemed to be starting with a little more regularity and a quicker pace. I had a small army of friends on alert to take care of Knox. By 9:30, I thought I should call the ones that were available that particular week to let them know that they might get a call later that night. Wanted to make sure someone was near their phone! I know at this point, you should probably get as much sleep as you are capable of, but of course, I had more laundry to do, a bag to pack, more dishes to put away, a shower to take and more family to call.
By 2:30 or so, I knew this was the real thing. I nervously called Dr. Tate (I've never woken up a Doctor before). I wasn't completely sure I wanted to go to the hospital yet, so I took a bath and tried to relax. After an hour, I was more than ready. We called Dr. Tate to let him know we were heading in, called my sweet friend Catherine to come stay with Knox and got together our last things.
We got to the hospital by 5 am. When the nurse first checked me, I was at 4-5 cm. Sweet. There's no way they'll send you home at 5 cm, right? (A deep, but irrational fear is being sent home for a false alarm). They called my doctor and his orders were for me to "walk briskly" for an hour and then to see how things progressed after that. I'm totally fine with the walking, but it took me a little by surprise that I still needed to prove I was actively in labor. Seriously? Didn't you just say 5 cm? But, I guess seeing a doctor who has a 3-4% c-section rate means that he only admits women when they are really, really ready to deliver on their own.
Walking briskly is exactly what we did. I think having some sort of challenge was a good thing for me. We could walk "wherever there was tile." Matt and I thumped our hands on doors whenever we hit a dead end, which completely reminded me of unpleasant runs during high school and college (particularly of touching the edge of the deck at Calhoun's on the River at UT - the 1.5 mile marker from Humes Hall). There was one room, #2, at the end of a hall that I was careful to not thump, but to just gently tap, in case there was a laboring woman or new mom that shouldn't be disturbed. We could make a lap in about 4 minutes, and my contractions would come twice a lap, so they were pretty intense and close together. But, as much as I could, it really helped me to focus and walk through them.
It was still early and the hospital was still quiet. There was one other momma walking, but she was taking more of a light stroll - we were on a quiet mission. I remember seeing two males in scrubs walk out of a room. One definitely had the swagger of a resident and the other, the attentiveness of a med student. The resident, identified by his yellow name badge, took up court at the nurses station. At that moment, I was elated that I hadn't gone with the university practice (that would likely have led to this fellow delivering my baby). His presence just really irritated me, in the way that small things can irritate the laboring woman. We continued to walk briskly, pausing regularly at my room to try to go to the bathroom (a sure fire sign for me that I'm close to having a baby). Those quiet hours that morning walking with Matt are ones that I'll treasure. He was encouraging when needed, quiet when needed, help my hand when I wanted and didn't mind when I pushed it away.
I was ready to go after the hour passed. When I was checked again, we were all the way to 7 cm. I felt so satisfied - we had done good work! That secured us a hospital admission and a call to Dr. Tate. They monitored my baby boy for a strip, did paper work, and asked if I had discussed my pain management options with Dr. Tate. I said I had. The nurse asked if I wanted to go ahead and start and IV. I told her I thought I would wait, and that was the end of that discussion. We moved down the hall from the triage room to our labor and delivery room - yes, it was #2 at the end of the hall, and then we hit the pavement, er, tile again. I'd love to know how much Matt and I walked that early morning, but it had to be a few miles.
The next hour or two passed - Dr. Tate arrived, we had a nursing change over. Once or twice I'd meet up with my nurse and she'd check on baby boy's heartbeat and then we kept moving. By about 8:30, I definitely had a "oh, s*&!, did I just decide to have a natural childbirth?!" moment. I was at 8-9 cm, contractions were every couple minutes and they were intense. Up until that point, I was able to focus, walk and work through them and hadn't felt the urge to get an epidural. Early to mid-labor they feel like a roller coaster to me. I can feel them start, they swell like a wave, I feel them peak and then they slowly start to subside. But later, it was more of a "wham-in-your-face-are-you-ready-for-another" and "I-don't-know-what-to-do-with-myself" sort. Dr. Tate had an option where he can do a paracervical block that I decided to take. As best I understand it, it is sort of a local anesthesia on your cervix that takes the edge off of contractions for up to an hour, as long as you have some cervix left. So, once it's time to push, there's nothing left, but it can help you get to that point. And, you are fully mobile and fully lucid. I liked the idea of both those things.
At 8:30, he administered the PCB, and I had to hang out in bed for them to monitor baby boy for 15-20 minutes. At the same time, he went ahead and broke my water since it hadn't happened yet on its own. Those 15 minutes were a lot better. By 8:45-8:50, I was up again. Almost as soon as my feet hit the floor, I was feeling everything again. My thought was, "Man, I must be a baby, because this really doesn't seem to be doing much!"
My nurse had said she would come back and check on me in 10 minutes, at 9:00 am. In the mean time, I said some choice word to Matt, that translated to, "What was I thinking!? People don't just not get epidurals because they don't get around to it!!! They have conviction! Or have had a really bad experience with one in the past! Or they hate needles! I don't have conviction! I had a great epidural with Knox! I love needles!"
When my nurse walked back in, I was bouncing on the bed. (I just read this again. Let me clarify - I was sitting on the edge of the bed and bouncing while seated). She offered to get me a birthing ball which sounded fantastic. She was back just a few minutes later, handed me the ball, took one look at me and went off to get Dr. Tate. I think I might have had 10 bounces on that wonderful ball (I'll definitely be packing one next time), and Dr. Tate came in (our baby boy ended up being the first of, I think, 5 babies he delivered that day, so he was right outside).
Dr. Tate checked me, and I was in a serious place. With my first delivery, I was told when it was time to start pushing. There was a bunch of calls on the phone for different people to come to our room - newborn nursery, a respiratory team (there was meconium in my water, so they had to be ready - being my first baby, I had no idea that was unusual and concerning), labor nurses, the whole 9 yards. Knox's birth was very peaceful though. While I was pushing, it was just the four of us - me, Dr. Gebka, Matt, and my nurse. I felt very much in control and very calm. I focused on meeting my baby and doing a good job.
This time, Dr. Tate had me sit on the bed, he sat beside me, checked things and then things just started moving. It was about 9:10 at that point. I remember him switching side of the table, telling my nurse to call so-and-so (a resident, I think). People started grabbing things. There was a female med student with him as well. I think I might have been the last person to realize that it was time to push - I was doing all I could to manage myself through the contractions.
At 9:15 I started pushing. Dr. Tate was sitting on my right side, the med student at my left. My nurse was closer to me at my left and Matt up beside me on the right. I'm pretty sure the books tell you to channel your energy in all sorts of productive ways, but, I was a screamer. I couldn't not scream. This time, rather than pushing through three counts to ten for each contraction, I just pushed, screamed and took breaths for a couple seconds in between when I felt I couldn't do it. It wasn't that peaceful, I didn't feel at all under control and I felt like I could slap someone if they told me I was doing a good job and they were lying. And, those things that I had heard described like the "ring of fire" had an all too real meaning.
It's a good thing you can't remember all the terrible details of childbirth too long afterward. I don't know that I'd do it again if I could, but at this point, 5.5 months out, it is a wonderful, endearing memory and one that I hope to do again, and that I'd revisit if I could.
A great moment during the pushing part is when you can tell on everyone's faces that you are really getting close and they are saying not just to encourage you. I've learned that both my boys have lots of hair at those moments. I'm not sure exactly how Ty presented, but I think he had his shoulders turned the wrong way as I heard him explain to the med student (and felt) how he turned Ty differently before he was born. It was weird, but I'm thankful to have a doctor who could do all those things and have him out safely, quickly and take care of me in the process.
My baby boy, John Tyson Neff, was born into this world at 9:30 am on the dot - June 25, 2010. Those 15 minutes were the most intense of my life. I remember thinking, "Wow - that was only 15 minutes. I don't think I could have made it if it were 16." And, "Euphoria - where's my damn euphoria?" They wiped Ty down for a couple moments before handing him to me. I hurt every moment until they gave him to me and every moment that he was away. Seriously, he was the best, best pain medication I have ever had. I'm not all that touchy feely, but feeling his skin against mine was the best. Just the best.
They took him away for a few minutes to do the newborn screening and to clean me up and I remember just being irritated and in pain. I think I snapped at the med student some, and she was great. Poor girl - she probably went home and told other students about her screaming laboring woman. But, once he was back, things were better again.
He ate pretty well from the start and every single thing about the recovery from this delivery was 15x better than it was the first time around.
Matt and I took a while to get to know our baby boy. We came to the hospital with a few front running names, and chose John Tyson for him later that day. John is for my dad whom we love and respect beyond words. He has been a loving father, a teacher and a man of God and of conviction and one we hope our son will emulate. Tyson is my mom's maiden name and is also my middle name. My grandfather's name was John Tyson. We always hear about his good spirit and his love of other people. I hope our TyTy has those traits as well.
The births of both my boys are my favorite days. Even more than my wedding day. It seems like Matt and I hardly knew each other when we got married. While I loved our wedding, there is something totally different about doing something as a team - seeing your child born, walking through that time together. You get to support each the other, be supported, be ugly, be beautiful, be weak, be strong, be scared, be triumphant and meet this amazing little person that you'll only get to know more and more. You get to act out your vows for sure. Matt was (and is) an amazing husband. We definitely don't do everything the other might like, but he does the big things very well. He is so willing to LOVE me and our boys - to be present, to do the mundane, to be with us - and that is something I very much love about him. When I was laboring with Ty, it wasn't about him at all. He's very quiet about his service. It isn't a show, a performance, or something he has to try really hard to do. It is just natural.
So there you have it. I love thinking back to the day we first met this little chunk of a boy. I could go on about Ty right now, but I'll save that for another post.
----
The week before Ty was born was a busy one. Matt had his final week of vacation of intern year. We hosted my father-in-law, took both cars in to get worked on (found out one pretty much needed to be replaced), went to doctor's appointments, went on a final date night. In the in between hours, I hit some serious nesting - scrubbed floors, toilets, blinds, trash cans, washed laundry every night, compulsively bought toilet paper and toiletries. It was bad. I think we got enough laundry detergent to last a good nine months.
Knox was born at a nice 38 weeks and 5 days. That day rolled around and I went to my regularly scheduled OB appointment. With Knox, I hadn't ever been "checked" before I went into labor, and hadn't been this time either. But, I had been having lots of contractions this time around and they had kept me up the night before (much like the days before Knox arrived), so while I was there, I asked Dr. Tate to check things out. In the mean time, another patient had suddenly gone into labor and needed Dr. Tate to come immediately. I think he actually sprinted out of the room after seeing me - one of the twists of seeing a solo practitioner. I think we were only at a 1-2, so nothing big. I mainly wanted to know if I could hang out at home for a while or did we need to hurry whenever it was time.
There is a restaurant in Atlanta, Scalinis, that has a reputation for sending women into labor if you eat their eggplant Parmesan. Since it was Matt's vacation, we had talked about going, just for fun. It was laughable. We were seated in a dining room with no less than 4 very pregnant women. I don't think I even needed to tell our waitress what I wanted to order. The deal is, if you have a baby within 48 hours of your dinner (you have to let them log you in to a very large book, with your name, the date and time of your dinner), you get a $25 gift certificate, a shirt for the baby, and you can bring a picture of the baby for them to put on their wall (you have to prove your baby's date and time of birth with their birth certificate), so either it is a really cool tradition, or they are stealing identities of tons of babies in the Atlanta area. Or they are planning ahead for some future major identity fraud - way, way ahead.
I'm not sure if you can credit Scalini's or just good timing since I was having regular contractions all through dinner (though, they were more like 10 minutes apart). Regardless, later that night, things seemed to be starting with a little more regularity and a quicker pace. I had a small army of friends on alert to take care of Knox. By 9:30, I thought I should call the ones that were available that particular week to let them know that they might get a call later that night. Wanted to make sure someone was near their phone! I know at this point, you should probably get as much sleep as you are capable of, but of course, I had more laundry to do, a bag to pack, more dishes to put away, a shower to take and more family to call.
By 2:30 or so, I knew this was the real thing. I nervously called Dr. Tate (I've never woken up a Doctor before). I wasn't completely sure I wanted to go to the hospital yet, so I took a bath and tried to relax. After an hour, I was more than ready. We called Dr. Tate to let him know we were heading in, called my sweet friend Catherine to come stay with Knox and got together our last things.
We got to the hospital by 5 am. When the nurse first checked me, I was at 4-5 cm. Sweet. There's no way they'll send you home at 5 cm, right? (A deep, but irrational fear is being sent home for a false alarm). They called my doctor and his orders were for me to "walk briskly" for an hour and then to see how things progressed after that. I'm totally fine with the walking, but it took me a little by surprise that I still needed to prove I was actively in labor. Seriously? Didn't you just say 5 cm? But, I guess seeing a doctor who has a 3-4% c-section rate means that he only admits women when they are really, really ready to deliver on their own.
Walking briskly is exactly what we did. I think having some sort of challenge was a good thing for me. We could walk "wherever there was tile." Matt and I thumped our hands on doors whenever we hit a dead end, which completely reminded me of unpleasant runs during high school and college (particularly of touching the edge of the deck at Calhoun's on the River at UT - the 1.5 mile marker from Humes Hall). There was one room, #2, at the end of a hall that I was careful to not thump, but to just gently tap, in case there was a laboring woman or new mom that shouldn't be disturbed. We could make a lap in about 4 minutes, and my contractions would come twice a lap, so they were pretty intense and close together. But, as much as I could, it really helped me to focus and walk through them.
It was still early and the hospital was still quiet. There was one other momma walking, but she was taking more of a light stroll - we were on a quiet mission. I remember seeing two males in scrubs walk out of a room. One definitely had the swagger of a resident and the other, the attentiveness of a med student. The resident, identified by his yellow name badge, took up court at the nurses station. At that moment, I was elated that I hadn't gone with the university practice (that would likely have led to this fellow delivering my baby). His presence just really irritated me, in the way that small things can irritate the laboring woman. We continued to walk briskly, pausing regularly at my room to try to go to the bathroom (a sure fire sign for me that I'm close to having a baby). Those quiet hours that morning walking with Matt are ones that I'll treasure. He was encouraging when needed, quiet when needed, help my hand when I wanted and didn't mind when I pushed it away.
I was ready to go after the hour passed. When I was checked again, we were all the way to 7 cm. I felt so satisfied - we had done good work! That secured us a hospital admission and a call to Dr. Tate. They monitored my baby boy for a strip, did paper work, and asked if I had discussed my pain management options with Dr. Tate. I said I had. The nurse asked if I wanted to go ahead and start and IV. I told her I thought I would wait, and that was the end of that discussion. We moved down the hall from the triage room to our labor and delivery room - yes, it was #2 at the end of the hall, and then we hit the pavement, er, tile again. I'd love to know how much Matt and I walked that early morning, but it had to be a few miles.
The next hour or two passed - Dr. Tate arrived, we had a nursing change over. Once or twice I'd meet up with my nurse and she'd check on baby boy's heartbeat and then we kept moving. By about 8:30, I definitely had a "oh, s*&!, did I just decide to have a natural childbirth?!" moment. I was at 8-9 cm, contractions were every couple minutes and they were intense. Up until that point, I was able to focus, walk and work through them and hadn't felt the urge to get an epidural. Early to mid-labor they feel like a roller coaster to me. I can feel them start, they swell like a wave, I feel them peak and then they slowly start to subside. But later, it was more of a "wham-in-your-face-are-you-ready-for-another" and "I-don't-know-what-to-do-with-myself" sort. Dr. Tate had an option where he can do a paracervical block that I decided to take. As best I understand it, it is sort of a local anesthesia on your cervix that takes the edge off of contractions for up to an hour, as long as you have some cervix left. So, once it's time to push, there's nothing left, but it can help you get to that point. And, you are fully mobile and fully lucid. I liked the idea of both those things.
At 8:30, he administered the PCB, and I had to hang out in bed for them to monitor baby boy for 15-20 minutes. At the same time, he went ahead and broke my water since it hadn't happened yet on its own. Those 15 minutes were a lot better. By 8:45-8:50, I was up again. Almost as soon as my feet hit the floor, I was feeling everything again. My thought was, "Man, I must be a baby, because this really doesn't seem to be doing much!"
My nurse had said she would come back and check on me in 10 minutes, at 9:00 am. In the mean time, I said some choice word to Matt, that translated to, "What was I thinking!? People don't just not get epidurals because they don't get around to it!!! They have conviction! Or have had a really bad experience with one in the past! Or they hate needles! I don't have conviction! I had a great epidural with Knox! I love needles!"
When my nurse walked back in, I was bouncing on the bed. (I just read this again. Let me clarify - I was sitting on the edge of the bed and bouncing while seated). She offered to get me a birthing ball which sounded fantastic. She was back just a few minutes later, handed me the ball, took one look at me and went off to get Dr. Tate. I think I might have had 10 bounces on that wonderful ball (I'll definitely be packing one next time), and Dr. Tate came in (our baby boy ended up being the first of, I think, 5 babies he delivered that day, so he was right outside).
Dr. Tate checked me, and I was in a serious place. With my first delivery, I was told when it was time to start pushing. There was a bunch of calls on the phone for different people to come to our room - newborn nursery, a respiratory team (there was meconium in my water, so they had to be ready - being my first baby, I had no idea that was unusual and concerning), labor nurses, the whole 9 yards. Knox's birth was very peaceful though. While I was pushing, it was just the four of us - me, Dr. Gebka, Matt, and my nurse. I felt very much in control and very calm. I focused on meeting my baby and doing a good job.
This time, Dr. Tate had me sit on the bed, he sat beside me, checked things and then things just started moving. It was about 9:10 at that point. I remember him switching side of the table, telling my nurse to call so-and-so (a resident, I think). People started grabbing things. There was a female med student with him as well. I think I might have been the last person to realize that it was time to push - I was doing all I could to manage myself through the contractions.
At 9:15 I started pushing. Dr. Tate was sitting on my right side, the med student at my left. My nurse was closer to me at my left and Matt up beside me on the right. I'm pretty sure the books tell you to channel your energy in all sorts of productive ways, but, I was a screamer. I couldn't not scream. This time, rather than pushing through three counts to ten for each contraction, I just pushed, screamed and took breaths for a couple seconds in between when I felt I couldn't do it. It wasn't that peaceful, I didn't feel at all under control and I felt like I could slap someone if they told me I was doing a good job and they were lying. And, those things that I had heard described like the "ring of fire" had an all too real meaning.
It's a good thing you can't remember all the terrible details of childbirth too long afterward. I don't know that I'd do it again if I could, but at this point, 5.5 months out, it is a wonderful, endearing memory and one that I hope to do again, and that I'd revisit if I could.
A great moment during the pushing part is when you can tell on everyone's faces that you are really getting close and they are saying not just to encourage you. I've learned that both my boys have lots of hair at those moments. I'm not sure exactly how Ty presented, but I think he had his shoulders turned the wrong way as I heard him explain to the med student (and felt) how he turned Ty differently before he was born. It was weird, but I'm thankful to have a doctor who could do all those things and have him out safely, quickly and take care of me in the process.
My baby boy, John Tyson Neff, was born into this world at 9:30 am on the dot - June 25, 2010. Those 15 minutes were the most intense of my life. I remember thinking, "Wow - that was only 15 minutes. I don't think I could have made it if it were 16." And, "Euphoria - where's my damn euphoria?" They wiped Ty down for a couple moments before handing him to me. I hurt every moment until they gave him to me and every moment that he was away. Seriously, he was the best, best pain medication I have ever had. I'm not all that touchy feely, but feeling his skin against mine was the best. Just the best.
They took him away for a few minutes to do the newborn screening and to clean me up and I remember just being irritated and in pain. I think I snapped at the med student some, and she was great. Poor girl - she probably went home and told other students about her screaming laboring woman. But, once he was back, things were better again.
He ate pretty well from the start and every single thing about the recovery from this delivery was 15x better than it was the first time around.
Matt and I took a while to get to know our baby boy. We came to the hospital with a few front running names, and chose John Tyson for him later that day. John is for my dad whom we love and respect beyond words. He has been a loving father, a teacher and a man of God and of conviction and one we hope our son will emulate. Tyson is my mom's maiden name and is also my middle name. My grandfather's name was John Tyson. We always hear about his good spirit and his love of other people. I hope our TyTy has those traits as well.
The births of both my boys are my favorite days. Even more than my wedding day. It seems like Matt and I hardly knew each other when we got married. While I loved our wedding, there is something totally different about doing something as a team - seeing your child born, walking through that time together. You get to support each the other, be supported, be ugly, be beautiful, be weak, be strong, be scared, be triumphant and meet this amazing little person that you'll only get to know more and more. You get to act out your vows for sure. Matt was (and is) an amazing husband. We definitely don't do everything the other might like, but he does the big things very well. He is so willing to LOVE me and our boys - to be present, to do the mundane, to be with us - and that is something I very much love about him. When I was laboring with Ty, it wasn't about him at all. He's very quiet about his service. It isn't a show, a performance, or something he has to try really hard to do. It is just natural.
So there you have it. I love thinking back to the day we first met this little chunk of a boy. I could go on about Ty right now, but I'll save that for another post.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
What Happened to October 2010?
Where, oh where did October go? It was so long and so short.
The first two weeks for us were spent at Emory University Hospital. Don't let anyone fool you - appendicitis is the pits!
On Sunday, October 3rd, Matt started to have some abdominal pain. What do you do when you have abdominal pain? Go for a walk of course. By the end of our 2 miles, Matt was stopping over, unable to walk through the pain. When we got home, he insisted he wanted to give it another hour to see if it would pass. About 2 minutes later, he was doubled over in the bathroom. That was when my wifely veto power kicked into action. Threatened with an ambulance trip, Matt agreed to go to the ER.
I literally dropped him off in the bus lane at Emory and watched him from the curb as he hobbled toward the ER. Hero friends, Tim and Laura rerouted themselves from church and met me at home to stay with the boys while I went back to the ER. They ended up spending the night (and feeding 3 month old Ty bottles for his mid-night feedings). Seriously, how awesome to have friends who will feed your infant overnight for you?!
When I got back to the hospital after an hour, I caught Matt right as they were wheeling him to get a CT. I'll never forget what he looked like - ashen, trembling and in so much pain. Before long they decided it must be his appendix based on all his symptoms.
For some reason his surgery was pushed to the next morning. What a horrible night for him. The next day after surgery, we thought we'd be heading home after a 24 hour hospital stay. But that night, things got worse. Much, much worse.
I'll spare you all the gory details, but what we expected to be a 24 hour hospital stay turned into 13 days. A post-op ileus, one NG tube, three CTs, one abscess drain, massive amounts of anti-nausea medicine, miles and miles walked around the triangular loop on floor 10E and one eaten meal later, Matt got to come home. October 15th was hands-down one of the best days of my life.
Being a patient is the pits. Being a family member to a patient you can't help is also the pits. Not knowing why your husband is hurting and how long you'll be waiting is the pits. Leaving your 3 month old baby behind for days and days just plain hurts.
Matt and I got to go out to dinner a couple nights ago to celebrate my birthday. It was good to reflect over the last month and talk about what we learned. We are so grateful for all the help we had during that time - the visits that lifted Matt's spirits, the people who helped with the boys allowing me to be a wife first when it was so needed, the people who brought us tons and tons of food.
Some other great things happened during October - Knox turned 2, I turned 29, Ty turned 4 months, but those things will be saved for another day.
Just wanted to say we're still here and doing very, very well.
The first two weeks for us were spent at Emory University Hospital. Don't let anyone fool you - appendicitis is the pits!
On Sunday, October 3rd, Matt started to have some abdominal pain. What do you do when you have abdominal pain? Go for a walk of course. By the end of our 2 miles, Matt was stopping over, unable to walk through the pain. When we got home, he insisted he wanted to give it another hour to see if it would pass. About 2 minutes later, he was doubled over in the bathroom. That was when my wifely veto power kicked into action. Threatened with an ambulance trip, Matt agreed to go to the ER.
I literally dropped him off in the bus lane at Emory and watched him from the curb as he hobbled toward the ER. Hero friends, Tim and Laura rerouted themselves from church and met me at home to stay with the boys while I went back to the ER. They ended up spending the night (and feeding 3 month old Ty bottles for his mid-night feedings). Seriously, how awesome to have friends who will feed your infant overnight for you?!
When I got back to the hospital after an hour, I caught Matt right as they were wheeling him to get a CT. I'll never forget what he looked like - ashen, trembling and in so much pain. Before long they decided it must be his appendix based on all his symptoms.
For some reason his surgery was pushed to the next morning. What a horrible night for him. The next day after surgery, we thought we'd be heading home after a 24 hour hospital stay. But that night, things got worse. Much, much worse.
I'll spare you all the gory details, but what we expected to be a 24 hour hospital stay turned into 13 days. A post-op ileus, one NG tube, three CTs, one abscess drain, massive amounts of anti-nausea medicine, miles and miles walked around the triangular loop on floor 10E and one eaten meal later, Matt got to come home. October 15th was hands-down one of the best days of my life.
Being a patient is the pits. Being a family member to a patient you can't help is also the pits. Not knowing why your husband is hurting and how long you'll be waiting is the pits. Leaving your 3 month old baby behind for days and days just plain hurts.
Matt and I got to go out to dinner a couple nights ago to celebrate my birthday. It was good to reflect over the last month and talk about what we learned. We are so grateful for all the help we had during that time - the visits that lifted Matt's spirits, the people who helped with the boys allowing me to be a wife first when it was so needed, the people who brought us tons and tons of food.
Some other great things happened during October - Knox turned 2, I turned 29, Ty turned 4 months, but those things will be saved for another day.
Just wanted to say we're still here and doing very, very well.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Bible
In addition to asking for "Holy, Holy, Holy," and folding his hands and asking for "prays," Knox has found a favorite children's Bible.
It is "Growing Reader Phonics Bible" by Joy MacKenzie. I happened to be fortunate enough to have Mrs. MacKenzie teach me AP English my senior year of high school. Her hand (as well as Kathy White's and my parents) was on every college application and every scholarship application that I submitted, and believe me, there were a lot of those! She was always thoughtful about the written word and she taught me the proper use of the word "synergy."
Her phonics Bible is more designed for the new reader, but Knox loves anything with a nice melodic rhyme. We read a lot of Dr. Seuss and this book follows in the same vein as each story repeats a certain phonetic sound, starting with the most basic. We have some other lovely childrens' Bibles, but have struggled to find one that was age appropriate that actually had some content as well.
It is "Growing Reader Phonics Bible" by Joy MacKenzie. I happened to be fortunate enough to have Mrs. MacKenzie teach me AP English my senior year of high school. Her hand (as well as Kathy White's and my parents) was on every college application and every scholarship application that I submitted, and believe me, there were a lot of those! She was always thoughtful about the written word and she taught me the proper use of the word "synergy."
Her phonics Bible is more designed for the new reader, but Knox loves anything with a nice melodic rhyme. We read a lot of Dr. Seuss and this book follows in the same vein as each story repeats a certain phonetic sound, starting with the most basic. We have some other lovely childrens' Bibles, but have struggled to find one that was age appropriate that actually had some content as well.
Holy, Holy, Holy
Knox has a new favorite song - Holy, Holy, Holy. He requests it throughout the day, especially at bedtime. Matt and I have a hymnbook that he now finds and requests, "Song. Songs. Songs. Holy, holy, holy. Songs."
Here's a little video of him talking about his favorite song. Forgive how bouncy it is! That's what happens when I try to video him and get his dinner together.
I was skyping with my parents and telling them this same story. They reminded me about the hymnbook that we would sing from when we were kids. I had totally forgotten about it, but there was this one song page that Amy and I were preoccupied with because it had a sketch of grapes on the page. We regularly requested, "Grapes!" but it was one that no one actually knew.
Here's a little video of him talking about his favorite song. Forgive how bouncy it is! That's what happens when I try to video him and get his dinner together.
I was skyping with my parents and telling them this same story. They reminded me about the hymnbook that we would sing from when we were kids. I had totally forgotten about it, but there was this one song page that Amy and I were preoccupied with because it had a sketch of grapes on the page. We regularly requested, "Grapes!" but it was one that no one actually knew.
Bicycle
It is funny to see things that I'm passing down from my family to my children. Just teeny tiny ways of doing things that will always seem normal to them. One thing my mom does with our babies is "bicycle" - ie. moving our legs up and down alternately, like riding a bicycle. I'm sure she did it with us, she and I both did it with Knox and now, she, I AND Knox are doing "bicycle" with Ty.
I've caught Knox a few times sitting at Ty's feet and shaking them back and forth saying, "bicycle, bicycle." Now, often when I change his diaper, he asks for bicycle as well. He's never beena skinny guy, but he is long and lean by comparison with Ty's soft, chunky thighs.
I've caught Knox a few times sitting at Ty's feet and shaking them back and forth saying, "bicycle, bicycle." Now, often when I change his diaper, he asks for bicycle as well. He's never beena skinny guy, but he is long and lean by comparison with Ty's soft, chunky thighs.
Monday, September 27, 2010
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