JCSquared

Breaking through the ice and dust covering this blog...

2010-01-28T14:38:00.000-08:00

Here I am. You've missed me, I just know it. I've been absent from blogging since July, so surely you're on pins and needles...
While reading the Times today, I found a blog post that needs to be shared. It's from Motherlode: Adventures in Parenting, and it's noteworthy due to its time sensitivity and level of compassion recommended to participate. "Sending Breast Milk to Haiti"
http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/01/27/sending-breast-milk-to-haiti/ struck a chord for me, and inspired me to write a few words, though I'm not here to triumph myself, only the act of breast feeding and of donating to those in need. This tiny blog linked above and its subsequent comments are a window not only into society and its view of breastfeeding- for better or worse opinions- but also to the vast devastation and basic needs of Haitians.
Four months and 2 days ago I gave birth to the most wonderful, beautiful, intelligent child in the world. Hey, it's my blog...and it's true! Milo was 5 weeks premature (due to my severe pre-eclampsia and consequentially failing kidneys) and also born with a condition called Gastroschisis (mentioned and briefly explained in posts below). The defect was much more severe than the doctors had anticipated, and although he was born weighing a chunk more than we had even hoped at 6lbs 9oz, he had a really tough road ahead. He spent 37 days in the NICU- 15 of which were on a ventilator- healing from 3 surgeries to put his intestines and such back in his little belly, and learning to eat and digest. Here's the tie in: thanks to my wonderful lactation consultants, the NICU from Heaven, and a little help from above, I was able to pump and store milk to be given to the NICU to teach him to eat via feeding tube, and then eventually I was able to breast feed my little boy. Now, this may seem hum drum and normal, but when you consider the fact that the risks of infection, necrosis, short gut syndrome, slow development, more surgery, etc etc etc all skyrocket with formula, it is not so simple anymore. Breast milk, according to doctors, nurses, and me- a goofy new mom who reads everything from the cereal box to medical journals- quite possibly saved my child.
With that said, the last few sentences only briefly and ever-so-slightly begin to tell our story, but that's for another day. I just really want to do my part to get the word out about a unique and easy way to help Haiti: "Sending Breast Milk to Haiti". The Milk Banks incur the costs of testing and shipping, so alls we gotta do is pump da milk! Why not worry about sending water bottles (and I'm not even going to mention formula, 'cause that's for another day as well) you ask? Because plenty of people are worrying about that. Many, many organizations are focused entirely on clean water (and thank goodness there are!), nutritional food (yay!), clothes (woohooo!), shelter (yes!), etc...but the breast milk needed to sustain the thousands of premature, sick, and fragile now orphaned infants is only able to be supplied by nursing mommies. So please, if you can, if you're able, contact the milk banks and see if there's any way you can help. It could very literally save a life.

http://www.breastmilkproject.org/haiti.php
http://www.hmbana.org/index/haiti

Epiphany

2009-07-24T09:41:00.000-07:00

A lingering idea, or dream perhaps, has just reared its beautiful head again:

I want to live in a home, one that doesn't eat my paychecks, and one that nutures. One with a garden, and one with colors in art and sound abounding and scents of homemade food always. One with sounds of children and fur babies. One filled with peace and love and passion.

I want to work a job that doesn't come home with me. I want to be great friends with my coworkers. I want to have plenty of time to go home and enjoy my life. I refuse to take the office home at night. I would love to own my own business, someday. But that's not mandatory.

I want to live an artist's life.
I want music and art and education to surround me and my family.
I want to teach my child, and myself, about the world, simultaneously.

It's not the clothes I wear, the car I drive, nor the house I live in. It's the people and the loved ones and the beauty this life has to offer that I crave. And peace.

Joe and I are working toward that life.

I'm still shocking doctors, 26 years later

2009-07-22T12:42:00.000-07:00

As you may or may not know, I had an MRI done last Friday in an effort to determine whether a C-section was necessary for Baby Whosit's grand arrival. They wanted to do both a "with contrast" and "without contrast" scan of my brain, but I would not consent to the one with contrast because of my concerns about the baby; so they only have the "without contrast" scan. My doctor (OBGYN who ordered the MRI) called me today, and in fact, what we have been led to believe for the past 26 years of my life (whoa, I'm gettin old!) is no longer true. Actually, it never was. According to the several neurologists and neurosurgeons that looked at my case, I do not have an Intracranial Cavernous Hemangioma as we have always believed. I actually have a "Choroid Plexus Papilloma" in the right lateral ventricle of my brain. Google it! But here's the wiki page, and an image (from the web- not my actual brain!) to get you started:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Choroid_plexus_papilloma

My doctor told me several things that I would like to relay:
1. From what they can tell, this is benign. That seems likely also considering it has been in my brain for 26 years. They would, however, like to rescan my brain after the baby, and then after I ween the baby (so they can use contrast dye) to study it further. We'll see about that, and cross that bridge if we get to it.
2. This means that a C-section is NOT medically necessary due to the health of the mother (me). Obviously, and with every pregnancy, complications can arise that lead the doctor(s) to believe that a C-section would be in the best interest of baby and mom, but we will just keep an eye on that as usual.
3. Baby Whosit's Gastroschisis does NOT require a C-section. No research has shown any difference in the health of the baby with this condition based on the delivery method (C-section vs natural).
4. We will continue to monitor the baby and the momma, but for now, all is well.

Fun times and a little Prankster

2009-07-21T12:55:00.000-07:00

What an awesome past week it's been! Life is getting more and more sweet and exciting as it progresses!

My little sister Annie and her boyfriend Kallan came to visit us last Tuesday evening, and I was unbelievably excited to have them here! We invited our wonderful friends Anna and Cameron over, and Joe made the 6 of us Coconut Red Curry with Chicken and Veggies- absolutely scrumptious as usual. It was Annie and Kal's first encounter with curry, so I'm proud to announce that we have made 2 new fans of it! Yum! We all hung out, back yard style, and drank beer and wine- well, I only watched the alcohol consumption, but it was a great time nonetheless. The next day, I took the day off, and Annie, Anna, Kallan and I went to eat lunch at Joe's restaurant The Woodland (www.woodlandaustin.com). We ate several courses til we were full of deliciousness up to our eyeballs! Afterwards, we went and piddled around some Thrift stores and then later Annie and I went shopping. She is by far the best shopping companion of all time for a girl like me. The boys drank beer in the back yard and bonded, while we scoured every aisle in Target. Then we all went to stuff ourselves again at Trudy's. I haven't really missed alcohol at all, until I saw the boys drinking those Mexican Martinis. Mouth watering!

The next day, Thursday, July 16th was my 26th birthday! I took the day off again and we all hung out till Annie and Kallan had to leave, and then I went to chop my hair off! Being pregnant has made me realize several things about my hair: I hate growing my hair out and I'm not sure why I did, I look better and feel better with short hair, and being 6+ months pregnant in the summer heat in Austin does not make for stylish hair on me. Cutting my hair short again was the best thing I have done for myself in awhile- and I mostly have Annie to thank- she's so amazing with her style ideas and her delivery. I only regret waiting this long to cut it! Plus, now I have an awesome new hair stylist!

Later, Joe and I went shopping at Target again- are we sensing a trend here??- and then rented an old Bogie and Bacall movie, along with the Corpse Bride; and as per my request we ordered 2 deep dish pizzas and chilled for the evening. I got some wonderful presents, and gift cards (my fav!), and Joe bought us Bob Dylan tickets for when we visit Lubbock for the baby shower August 7th! Whosit went to Metallica when I was 2 months pregnant, several shows since then including Sir Richard Bishop, and will hear Bob Dylan live when I'm around 7 months preggo! It was a perfect birthday!

Saturday Joe and I got up early and headed to Houston for the weekend. It was a very relaxed and wonderful trip! We hung out with his friend since childhood and his wife and their 8 week old baby. Incidentally, Joe made that tiny newborn grin from ear to ear and it made me even more excited to see him with Baby Whosit! We also hung out at Joe's mom's house where they had a big blowout party for Joe's aunt's 60th birthday. Normally a shy person (seriously), I actually chatted my head off and talked to almost every single person at the party! And even though I loathe having my picture taken, I posed sweetly every time I was asked. Guess this pregnancy has brought out yet another good quality in me. The next day, we took it easy and went to visit some more people, including Joe's grandma, who is absolutely precious.

Last night I met Joe up at our old haunt, Lovejoys, where some of our friends were hanging out. I couldn't stay long- bars and preggo bellies don't mesh for very long- but I did have a great time! Then today, as if Whosit was tired from being rubbed and flipping around during all of the last week's activities, he was so still and quiet that I started panicking. I only felt one little kick early this morning, and waited...and waited...and waited...and ate something...and drank some juice...and still nothing. I was absolutely about to freak out, so I called my sweet nurse Debbie, who told me that as soon as I could take my lunch I needed to go home and eat and then lay down and be still and quiet and see if he started kicking. I was texting Joe like a mad woman and fighting tears until we passed deadline and I could leave. Joe was wonderful and calm and said to think positive and that Baby was probably just napping but to keep him posted. 45 minutes into my 1 hour lunch break, the little Prankster started kicking hard! I guess he was napping all morning, but oh man- I was a wreck! I would much rather him kick the beejebus outta me all day than go that many hours without feeling my sweet baby move. I just really cannot wait until Joe can feel him too!

Oh, and the cat's out of the bag: I believe Baby Whosit shall be named Milo.
Still working on the middle names though, and it's looking like he'll have more than one.

Off to have a little handful of Reece's pieces- I need an afternoon treat. :)

Whew.

2009-07-10T09:28:00.000-07:00

I have finally taken a deep breath, and realized that everything really will be okay. After the last (traumatic) experience at the doctors offices, I was not so secretly dreading the visits scheduled for yesterday and today. Yesterday, Joe and I went to the perinatologists' office for an echiocardiogram (an ultrasound where they focus on the baby's heart), so I was nervous. The only thing I wanted to hear was that Whosit was doing well, measuring well, and feeling well, though I did hope to finally know if I was housing a "noodle or clam". First, despite the Gastroschisis which, just for clarification, cannot repair itself and must be corrected surgically after birth, is "standard issue" - a very good thing considering! Next, all of the other organs, the bones, and the heart are measuring right on target, and functioning perfectly and healthily. Then, though I was ever-so-slightly surprised, Joe was finally allowed to get his "I told you so" in when the doctor confirmed that Baby Whosit is a Boy! We even have a picture of him sucking his thumb. I am already completely in love with this baby who steals all of my food yet somehow makes me gain weight every week, who kicks and punches all of my internal organs as if they are part of a rock band's drum kit, and whose occupation of my womb causes my feet to swell to abnormal proportions and requires me to wear less than desirable flip flops every day. I love him more every moment, and I am in a frenzy trying to make his world the best possible environment before he arrives.

Today, I visited my OBGYN, and got a shining gold star on my weight gain report card! What a relief! We also discussed briefly the C-section vs vaginal birth dilemma: I prefer vaginal while my family and doctors are all leaning toward a C-Section. When I was an infant, I was diagnosed with an intracranial cavernous hemangioma on my right parietal lobe. Basically, it is a ball of extra blood vessels, about the size of a golf ball, located above and behind my right ear. It doesn't move, change, or affect my life in any way whatsoever unless I take a blow to the head, or have some sort of situation that could impact me neurologically...i.e. giving birth (the intense pressure could be dangerous). So, at this point it looks like a C-section, but I will probably have to have a few more consultations before anyone can make any decisions. I just want to do what is best for the baby, and also do what it takes to insure that I will be here to be the best mom I possibly can be for Whosit.

In lighter news, there are a handful of Baby Showers being planned, which fills me with absolute excitement! I feel so blessed to have so many wonderful friends and family members rallying around me, Joe, Whosit, and my first baby, Zimmie. I have finished all of the Baby Registeries, which for some strange reason was stressing me out terribly. Now I get to focus on the nursery, and this weekend I'm getting started on refinishing the bookshelves and chest o' drawers/ changing table. I've also committed to read at least 1 book a month from here on out (far less than I am capable of reading). I also have knitting plans- a baby pea in the pod wearable blanket and cap.

The bouts with what I believe may be depression creeping around again seem to be lessening in frequency, though not in intensity. I'm learning to let people help me. I'm learning to sit down when I'm exhausted and before my toes look like purple cocktail weiners. I'm learning that Joe is wonderful, and if I just ask sweetly, he will do just about anything for me to help. I'm also learning that not everything can get done exactly as I envision it every single day. I'm sleeping better, my relationships are better, and I don't feel so lonely. I realize that we have quite a twisty road ahead, but I really believe it will work out. Finally, I feel pretty great. Whew.

Zimmie

2009-07-02T10:06:00.000-07:00

I just need a vacation from everything. But I will definitely take my dog when I go. He is truly a girl's best friend, confidant, and unwavering companion...I'm lucky we met.

Baby Whosit

2009-06-17T13:36:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to, planning to, and forgetting to write on this blog since the initial pizza post, but life has been a crazy whirl wind of emotions, activities, and news- some good, some not so good. Let's start with the latter so we can end on a happy, hopeful note!

It has been an interesting year thus far: a very surprise baby, moving out of two houses and into cohabitation in a third house, living/dealing with Joe's thankfully now ex-roommate's literal descent into psychosis and her consequential obsession with my pregnancy, our somewhat exaggerated money/time constraints, car problems in a single car household, and then life's usual pickles on top of it all. I am grateful, however, that I have one of those strange abilities to find amusement in even the most awful of situations- similar to the people who laugh uncomfortably in funerals perhaps. I used to think it was a character flaw, but the older (and wiser?) I get, the more I realize actually I have been blessed with an ability to trudge through even the most trying of times. But last week was the cherry on top.

On Wednesday, some young punk (as in attitude, not distinct style) kids in a huge green Jeep Wrangler rolled into and over the back end of my VW Beetle butt. I have been in my fair share of wrecks in my almost decade of legal driving, and I rarely, if ever, cry. However, this was my first experience with a child in tow- be it in utero or in car seat, and I was an emotional mess- shaken up and terrified, and suddenly incapable of remembering the normal course of action in situations such as these. For some reason the first call I made- before even pulling out of traffic- was to let work know that I would be very late returning from lunch. Then to Joe, and then 911, then my Dad, and then the Doctor's office, and then repeated calls to these for the next several hours. I ended up waiting for over 2 hours for the police to show, and when they never did- even after a follow up call- I exchanged info, and went back to the office to finalize things, and then went home, a whopping 5 minutes early for the day. There is substantial damage to the car, but no damage to Baby Whosit or me. I'm still dealing with insurance, body shops, and rental cars, etc.

The next morning, Thursday June 11th, had been marked with smiley faces and exclamation points on all of my calendars for quite some time. It was supposed to be the day when we would finally be able to know which pronoun to use to reference Baby Whosit, how to begin the ever important task of decorating and compiling Baby Registry lists, and the general health of baby and momma. I knew something was awry when Dr. M came in frowning after my meeting with the dreaded scale. Formerly his prized patient, I quickly realized that I had fallen into the "what in the world have you been eating" category. I now have yet another responsibility: avoid simple carbs and sugar, my 2 favorite food groups. I blushed, the men in the room laughed, and we moved onto the ultrasound. We did not find out the gender that day, and Joe and I had the scare of our lives to date instead. During the ultrasound while we were ooohing and awwwing over the sweet little acrobat, we heard our doctor say the words no expectant parents want to hear: "Hmmm, I see something abnormal, and I'm not sure what it is" with his furrowed brow and set jaw. I will never forget the sinking, heart-stopping, suffocating feeling of that instant. After begging for more details and "what do you see" passing through my lips on repeat, the tears began. In hindsight I knew that day would be different from any other, and yet I felt marooned somewhere foreign and terrifying, and for the first time, I forgot that I have a wonderful partner in this. I have no idea what Joe said or did, I only remember hearing my heart pounding in my ears and my grip loosen in Joe's hand. Dr. M could not decipher what the abnormality was, and he pointed out the questionable area, which looked like a squiggly line where there obviously should not have been one. He stood up, printed a still image, and exited the room saying he needed to call Dr. E, a perinatologist. I laid there, goop still on my exposed belly, hand still clasped in Joe's, stunned. Who is Dr. E? What is happening to my baby? What have I done wrong? Is this my fault? The floodgate of emotions and questions opened just wide enough to overwhelm me back into a surreal version of the reality I had known 15 minutes prior. I will be forever thankful that Joe was there by my side, and I think in some way that slice of life, coupled with the day to come, has solidified our relationship. We were ushered, with a definite sense of urgency that I may never forgive, out of the exam room, through the lobby, and across the major thoroughfare to the specialist to have a new doctor examine this still at this point unknown abnormality.

We sat in the waiting room, and filled out the standard issue paperwork while I fixated on the unbearably loud sound of the second hand on the clock. Soon enough, we were guided into a bustling hallway of nurses and doctors, and into a dimly lit room with high tech equipment. I suppose my mama bear instinct to protect which had already kicked in, and had been heightened in the last hour, was the main culprit behind my envisioning choking the actually sweet and knowledgeable technician who asked far too many questions. She showed us, step by step, what she was scanning and we viewed it all on a big screen perched high up in the corner. The squiggly line was Baby Whosit's small intestine. The silent but constant tears at this point were soaking the pillow under my head, and I felt myself crumbling while we waited for Dr. E. He arrived, explained in perfect detail, and answered all of my jumbled questions. He also explicitly reiterated why this was not my fault as I looked up at him and begged to know. I feel extremely fortunate that every medical professional we have dealt with has shown us the utmost of courtesy and empathy, but Dr. E may have topped them all; and his explanation and genuine concern warmed my then frozen being until I regained functionality.

Our baby was diagnosed with Gastroschisis that day. We were instructed to take a lunch break, but instead of eating, I cried and called my Dad, who was incredibly strong and supportive. Less than an hour later we were sitting in the office of our new Genetic Counselor who explained the "complication", answered a thousand questions, charted our family medical histories, and was truly wonderful. So, here is my best effort at explaining Gastroschisis as I know it at this point:

Basically when babies are forming in the womb, the organs form on the outside of the body, and the ribs- when it's time- close like French doors, bringing the organs inside. Sometimes, not all of the organs make it to the "party" and get left outside, with a small hole (usually, and in our baby's case, to the right of the umbilical cord/belly button) left open. The small intestine is the only organ that Whosit has on the outside in this situation, and it- along with every single other organ- are functioning exactly perfectly. So, when Whosit is born they will do 1 of 2 things: immediate surgery to put everything back in and where it's supposed to be; or, if the abdominal cavity is too small they will put the bowel into a "silo" on the outside and let gravity do the work, usually taking about a week, and then surgically sew up the hole. With all of that said, Gastroschisis almost never (less than 1%) has any other side effects (aside from obvious potential feeding problems that usually resolve themselves), and after surgery takes place and a few weeks in NICU, he/she can come home and be a normal happy baby. The docs all said that if you had to choose something to be "wrong" with the baby, this is what you would want to pick because they know just about everything about it and how to fix it. The only thing they don't know is how to prevent it or what causes it, as it is 100% random, meaning nothing anyone did or could do could prevent or change the diagnosis. It's a lot to take in, but all medical staff we've talked to and so far all of our research has said it's worse for the parents, but the baby will be fine and happy and healthy very shortly after birth. Plus, the upshot is that the brain, heart, other organs, and all of the arms/legs/etc are working just great. Baby Whosit was moving so much on the ultrasound that none of the 3 people who ran ultrasounds that day could tell what sex he/she is. Our little dancing acrobat still has us in suspense regarding gender, but hopefully we will find out at our next appointment on July 9.

With a few days processing under our belts, and many kind words from loved ones, and many tearful prayers, I realized that this truly special child has been placed in our lives for a specific reason, and he or she is already loved unconditionally. I laughed about everything today, and I know it's all going to be okay.

Next post will be shorter, sweeter, and much lighter- I promise!

xo
j

New Adventures in Blogging

2009-05-01T14:31:00.000-07:00

Step 1: Start a new blog. (done!)
Step 2: Write something. No pressure or anything. The vast white space is not, in fact, sucking away your sanity; nor is it taunting you. Just take a deep breath and dive in. Ok, new plan: just keep adding Steps to distract from the actual lack of content.
Step 3: Go grab some lunch and come back. (done!)
Step 4: Talk about yourself. Throw in a little Joe info. Sprinkle with Zimmie news. Move on. Oh, screw that, let's talk about dinner.

It's pizza night. For those that know me, or have spoken to me for at least ten minutes, you realize what a monumental event this is for me, each and every time it occurs...especially these days, when Joe and I are on a mission to save money and eat at home. I've tried making homemade pizza, I've tried frozen pizza, I've even tried Four Cheese Hot Pockets (yes, I accept sponsorships), I've tried virtually every pizza substitute in existence. While I do love each of these lower-on-the-totem-pole choices, nothing, my friends, and I mean nothing, comes close to ordering honest to goodness delivery pizza. And yeah, I'm a weirdie that prefers to order from one of the chains. I mean, don't get me wrong: I'm all about shopping and eating locally, and all that jazz, but there is some sort of deep-rooted satisfaction that I get from eating the Pizza Giants' creations. I always take the role of order placer because I trust no one to order mine exactly the way I would like it, which, ironically is so simple it's fairly embarrassing. Also, a few years ago, I realized that I do not have it in me to share pizza nicely with others. Want half of my sandwich? Here you go! Would you like a bite of my salad/pasta/omelet? No problem, my friend! You want a piece of my beloved pizza pie? Yeah, um, er, geez...I mean, whew...is it stuffy in here...uh, well, I guess...yeah, here's a little sliver over here...oh, oh, don't pull the cheese off the piece next to it...wow, take the biggest piece huh, oh no, it's okay, really. So now I just throw in extra cashola and get my own, and suggest that everyone else does the same. I get the order placed and then the hair-twisting, lip-biting, sweat-breaking ensues. There I am, waiting for a tortuous 30-45 minutes, trying to stay busy and drool-free, double-checking that the porch light is on so the unsuspecting delivery person has no excuse for missing the house, getting the napkins and drinks in order, and pacing. Then I hear that doorbell. I usually plump the tip a little more than necessary so that I am forgiven after snatching the scalding hot corrugated cardboard boxes out of the innocent person's hands and running back inside. There she is, my beautiful, beautiful pie: regular crust, extra cheese, extra sauce. Despite my absolute hatred for burning my tongue, it's always a possibility with this, my very favorite food. Sometimes I add a little crushed red pepper, sometimes I don't. But I always enjoy with a smile. I sit, I relish, I lean back, peaceful and unbelievably content, swearing that next time I will save some for lunch the next day.

It's that time.