Doc and Dixie

FUP

2009-02-02T08:27:00.003-05:00

I am seriously considering getting this. I'd like to get this, but I have children and somehow it just wouldn't seem right. It's like the blogger says, if I get the first one, "cool people will understand."

So, just what is THIS all about? If you haven't already been entertained by one of the funniest things on the Internet, I present to you (drum roll please....)

FUCK YOU, PENGUIN!

Sometime in December, an old friend posted a link to this blog on Facebook and I haven't stopped laughing since. I worked my way back to the beginning and anxiously await new posts with bated breath. And when the waiting gets to be too much, I simply go back and read some of the real gems like these two.

Yes, I know it might be offensive to some (the language is quite obscene at times), but I don't care. So, let me keep this short so you can get to laughing. I for one am going to go reread Dec. 16.

Official Diagnosis: Spastic Quadriplegic Cerebral Palsy

2009-02-01T09:16:00.003-05:00

On Thursday, Cadence saw the same doctor she saw a year ago who shocked me with the words Cerebral Palsy. Although I knew this was a possibility at the time, I felt like she had been progressing. Time has certainly proven him right in the regard that she clearly has severe physical delays and challenges. I've accepted this, but still hold out hope for continued effort and improvements on her part.

So when visiting with him this week, he said overall she looked healthy. I asked him for an official diagnosis and he gave me one: Spastic Quadriplegic Cerebral Palsy. He said "spastic" meaning tightness and rigidness in her movements and "quadriplegic" meaning it affects all four limbs. He also said something about how the more involved the CP, the more likely the child's cognitive function will be low.

From: http://www.cerebralpalsy.org/types-of-cerebral-palsy/

Spastic Cerebral Palsy

Spastic Cerebral Palsy is the most common diagnosis. If your child’s CP is “spastic,” her muscles are rigid and jerky, and she has difficulty getting around. There are three types of spastic Cerebral Palsy:

Spastic diplegia — Your child’s leg and hip muscles are tight, and his legs cross at the knees, making it difficult to walk. This kind of movement is frequently referred to as “scissoring.”

Spastic hemiplegia — Only one side of your child’s body is stiff. Her arms or hands might be more affected than her legs. On the affected side, her arm and leg may not develop normally. She may also require leg braces.

Spastic quadriplegia — The severest of the three, spastic quadriplegia means that your child is more likely to have mental retardation if diagnosed as quadriplegia. His legs, arms, and body are affected. It will be difficult for him to walk and talk, and he may also experience seizures.

Mental retardation?

Really?

I don't know about that one. I mean, I guess it's possible, but she seems so alert, aware. She's very visual, understands many commands, can recognize pictures and faces in books by both fixing her gaze on them and attempting to "get them" with her closed fist. She recognizes songs she likes and she gets excited when she sees or hears dads voice when he gets home from work.

So, ok...she doesn't talk yet, but I've been lead to believe this is more likely due to the fact that she physically can't yet, not because she doesn't want to or has nothing to say.

When he first brought up this possibility (he never used the words "mental retardation"), I thought, "No way." But, just as the last year has proven him right the first time, I am wondering how right he might be again. I can't help but wonder if the fact that she still doesn't nod or shake her head "yes" and "no" are simply physical impairments, or is she really suffering from severe cognitive delays as well?

I know, I know...time will tell. I've heard it all before. I'm just sick of waiting.

It Could've Been Worse

2009-01-22T23:58:00.004-05:00

I wrote this a few months ago and I know there are some problems with style and typos and stuff, but though one of these days I will get around to fixing it, for now I just wanted to post it. Enjoy.

I suppose it could’ve been worse.

I often find myself repeating this in my head when I think back to July 20, 2007.

Everything about my third pregnancy was normal, right down to a good strong heartbeat, a perfect ultrasound that showed 10 fingers and 10 toes and a baby that measured exactly as it should each week. Even as the first signs of labor came, there was never any indication that my second daughter would be anything less than perfect.

But things quickly unraveled. Shortly after arriving at the hospital, my midwife Lucie told me the baby’s heart rate was too high and because of that, they were moving me up to a regular Labor and Delivery room, not the Alternative Birthing Center like I had planned. I was bummed out, but I knew she knew what was best for us, so I went without any fight.Once we got settled into the L&D room, Lucie broke my water and immediately noticed meconium in the fluid. She told my husband Corey he wasn’t going to get to cut the cord and warned us about the team of pediatricians that would be standing by ready to take her as soon as she came out. I knew a little bit about meconium (the baby’s first bowel movement) and that it is usually not a big deal, so I wasn’t really worried about it.

I breathed through the contractions for an hour and with each one, I had to tell myself in my head over and over again, “You can do this. You can do this!” They hurt! With the first few really bad ones, I was a little freaked out thinking, “I can’t do this again” and I considered drugs. But, I reminded myself that I had done it twice before and I could do it again. Just breathe through them, I told myself.

When it was finally time to push, Lucie said, "It's time to meet this baby who couldn't keep her room clean. Or womb, whichever you prefer." She reminded me the importance of making sure to stop pushing when she said so she could suction her out. If not for that, the baby would have been born with one big push. Instead, I pushed, held, held, held..."Come on! Can't...hold...anymore...!" Released hold, pushed and out came Cadence Ann Smith, following by a really large splash. I didn't look.

Just as Lucie said there would be, a team of doctors came in and worked on Cadence for what felt like an hour, but it was probably more like five minutes, if that. I didn't hear her crying, but I had seen, heard and read enough to know that was ok; I needn't be too concerned. When after a few minutes she was barely squeaking, they told me they were bringing her to the NICU and I could expect her to be there my entire stay. She had inhaled a considerable amount of meconium and needed extensive care. They brought her over to me for a quick hello and after holding her for just about 10 seconds, she was gone. All I remembered about her was her eyes. They were open and gorgeous!

I knew she was in good hands. I tried not to get upset and I told myself she was going to be fine. No matter what she was going through, they had everything they needed to care for her and help her with her breathing until she was well enough to do it on her own. So, as I lay in the bed waiting for the after birth process to be complete, I was calm and relaxed, clearly a mother on her third child. Corey was pacing around the room and Lucie was collecting the cord blood we had chosen to bank when she held up the umbilical cord and announced, “Here’s our culprit.”
And there, in the center of my daughter’s lifeline for the previous nine months, was a true knot.
Lucie went on to say it was likely that at some point the baby had tugged at the cord, momentarily cutting off her oxygen and causing her to gasp, thereby inhaling the meconium. I still remember my mouth opening slightly as I just stared at it, thinking how lucky we were. I never for one second thought that it had given her brain damage.

But, as the coming days would tell, it had. After the NICU nurses raised some questions about Cady’s behavior, they began testing. They said it could just be she was worn out from fighting so hard to breathe (she was on oxygen for 12 days), but her unresponsiveness and lack of certain reflexes concerned NICU staff. Soon, an MRI confirmed what a CAT scan had suspected. Damage to the thalamus. No prognosis available. Only time would tell the life my daughter would lead. If I had a dollar for every time I was told about the “elasticity of the newborn brain” and its “ability to heal itself” I’d have had enough to cover all the cafeteria food I was eating.
Looking back, the next six weeks were a blur. I was overtired, stressed out and extremely nervous, anxious, angry, depressed…all of the above. There was even some guilt: “What if my body had just delivered sooner?” “Did the exercises I had hoped would induce labor cause her to tug at the cord?” “Why couldn’t I have just left well enough alone and stopped at two children?” I had a 3-year-old daughter and another baby at home (my son had turned 1 only 12 days after Cady was born – clearly still a baby in my eyes, and heart, for that matter) and there were days when I wondered how I would ever get through the ordeal.

And if all that weren’t enough, when she was exactly four weeks old we were hit with more bad news. Cady, who at this point was only still in the NICU because of problems feeding, was silently aspirating her formula. Had we not caught it, another bout of pneumonia was inevitable. Surgery was scheduled later that day and at just 4 weeks and 5 days old, my child was put under general anesthesia yet again as a feeding tube was placed in her abdomen. She went home a week later.
Her first weeks home were close to unbearable. She hated the darkness and silence that is the night. After nearly six weeks of constant lights, beeping sounds and full-on alarms, Cadence had literally not had a moment’s peace since she was born. I spent many nights begging her to sleep and one night, with just the streetlight shining into the room and across her face, I wondered what our life would be like. I sobbed to her, asking her if she thought I could handle being her mother. Could I handle the stress of caring for a disabled child? Would her problems be physical, mental, both? How was I going to do this? Did I have it in me? And then, and I swear this is the truth, Cady cracked her first smile. It wasn’t a great big one, but more of a little smirk that says, “Hey you,” followed by a knowing wink. I brought her to my neck, held her tightly and as I cried into her blanket sleeper, I felt as if she understood my sorrow and wanted to give me something, anything to hold on to. Time truly would tell all, but in the meantime, I would, and knew I could, do all I had to for my daughter to ensure the best possible head start of her challenging life.
Now, when I think back to July 20, 2007, I know it could have been worse. The knot could have killed Cady and we would never have been blessed with the joy of her smile, the twinkle in her eyes and the little bits of laughter she squeaks out now and then. The pride we felt when she started eating, finally rolled over and began using her hands to catch herself from falling is something we would never have experienced. Hearing the word “perfect” used to describe her was sensational, even if it was only to express how well her hips were forming and watching her pull herself upright and pick up her head to smile at you as if to say, “Ma! Look what I can do!” is enough to make it all worthwhile.

Having a disabled child means many things, but most of all it means fighting harder for the simple things, feeling prouder over every accomplishment and never taking a single laugh, moment of eye contact or feeling of understanding for granted.
Yes, it most definitely could have been much worse.

Decisions, decisions...

2009-01-16T11:06:00.004-05:00

Corey and I have a decision to make. An expensive one at that. Callia has been invited to attend the ProScout Invitational in Boston. For a whopping $795, she will meet with the top modeling and acting agencies in the business at a weekend long event in Boston in April.

Here's the story: for as far back as I can remember, people have always commented on how beautiful she is. I always agreed, but I also knew I had no choice. She's my daughter; I am biased. As she got older, I heard it more and more. "She's just gorgeous. She should be a model." She was even chosen to be in a Disney movie when she was 2, but they blew her off. (Nice, huh?)

So, last night I took her to a ProScout Model search. I heard them advertising it on the radio and thought, "Oh why not?" I really had no idea what to expect or what it was all about, but I figured it couldn't hurt to go in and check it out.

Ok, now. To avoid getting myself all worked up and mad all over again, I am going to skip ahead to the part where she was seen by the man doing the interviews. See, my son was so unbelievably uncooperative, it was all I could do to keep sane throughout this process. Just know we went in, filled out form, waited for a half hour, the man took one look at Callia and said, "She's got it," just after he glared at my son for screaming like madman. I sheepishly admitted that he belonged to me. He said he already knew Callia had exactly what he was looking for but unfortunately he could not talk to me with Kiefer there. I told him I could drop him off at home and be back in time to hear his presentation for the second round of interviews. He said that would be fine and we left - Kiefer, by the grace of God, with his life still in tact.

We returned at 8:30 and that's when we learned just how the program works. They charge you $795 for the work they do (and the legwork they save you) putting you in front of the top agents in the world (think Disney, Nickelodeon, Elite). You don't get signed? Too bad for you. They did their part - getting signed is yours.

So, what should we do? First off, we don't even have that kind of money to spare. Sigh...I don't know. I have more to add, but I'll post that when I come back with our decision. (These kids are getting on my nerves.)

Happy birthday, Donald!

2009-01-15T10:06:00.003-05:00

I kept my promise. It wasn't as hard as I had thought it would be. It helped that Julie and I made friends on Facebook a few months ago, so even though we hadn't spoken since April, I do feel like I know her a little. At first I didn't know what to say to her so the beginning of the conversation was a bit awkward, but after that I pretty much didn't shut up for40 minutes. I am sure she was hoping I would at some point, but she was very gracious about it.

I guess there's really not much else I want to say. Just thought I should let it be known that I am still thinking of Don today, as I will every January 15.

Happy birthday, Donald!

Good-bye 2008...

2008-12-27T22:32:00.003-05:00

It has become quite clear to me that I am not very good at this, yet here I am...again. I suppose I am hoping that with all of the other changes I am trying to make in my life, blogging on a regular basis can finagle its way in.

I've been through quite a bit in the last six months. A lot of shit, for the most part, that I don't really feel like divulging just yet. Let's just say I am looking forward to a new year, a new me...hopefully even a new job and a new house. Anew keyboard wouldbe nice, too. (Damn you,spacebar!)

Stay tuned...

An update on the kids

2008-06-25T10:14:00.004-04:00

I am not sure what I came here to write, so it should be interesting to see how this ends. I am so frustrated with myself for not blogging daily, or at least several times a week. My kids are growing and changing so much and crack me up everyday, I wish I could remember to come here and talk all about it. (Or find a quiet moment to do so.)

Callia had her dance recital the other night. It was so awesome!!! I was so proud of her. She didn't hestiate at all on that stage. I cried during her first performance. It was ballet and she looked so stinking cute up there. I did better for the tap performance and only got a little choked up, but at the end they came on stage and took a bow and it was adorable, I cried again. Then the entire group of dancers lined up behind the curtain and when it went up, she was right in the front, showing off her little trophy. She is so proud of that thing! It was a great night. :)

I can't believe she is turning 4 in just 4 more days. She is growing up way too fast and she is so smart and beautiful. As she talks to me sometimes, I can't believe what I am hearing. I feel like that can't be MY kid talking. She's not old enough to think of those things on her own or rationalize like that. For her birthday Sunday, we are having a beach party, per her request.

Kiefer has been talking a lot more. It's so cute to hear him say, "Thank you" without prompting after you hand him something. It's funny how kids learn to say thing the way you say them. I tend to emphasize the "you" and now he does, too. He also "talks" a lot, right at you, and expects you to understand every word he says. Most of the time I just nod and say, "Yeah?" and he says, "Mm-hmm." It's so precious.

But what a little stinker he is! He loves to throw things, especially food, and it drives me insane. He really tests our patience (he's quite good at this, actually) . As Corey puts it, when he is done with something, "he wants it out of his life." The other day he did this with his cup and hit the baby on the head with it. Before Corey (I wasn't there) could even react, Kiefer made a face like "Oh no!" with his mouth shaped like an O, looked at Corey then ran to the baby and kissed her forehead. He apparently knew he shouldn't have hit her with it and that was his way of apologizing.

Speaking of Cady, she is still progressing slowly. It's still hard to say how able-bodied she will be, but she has been trying a lot more lately. Her PT is in the process of getting her some adaptive equipment. Kind of makes it seem more real, like she truly is disabled, but I know it's best for her AND it doesn't stop me from continuing to hope she will walk on her own one day.

Two nights ago she ate some Gerber Puffs!! I was so proud of her! I couldn't believe how well she did. She did spit it out a few times, but I would just get it back in there for her and she chewed and swallowed about 8 of them. Then she was trying her darnedest to pick one up. She has also been reaching out a lot more for many other things, too, like toys and faces (particularly noses). I am hoping as she gets older, she will become more motivated to do things and try harder.

We are taking them to get their pictures taken on Sunday. We always take the kids in for pics on their birthdays, but I also figured for Cal's pics, we'll take a group photo. I have been debating which birthday I want to do it on, but Cal's seems like a good choice since it's the farthest away from Christmas, when I will likely have another one taken. But then Kiefer's seems like a good choice because then they will all have had birthdays and will officially be 4, 2 and 1. I dunno...I am still contemplating this, but I am leaning toward Cal's birthday.

Ok, Cady is "calling" me, so I must go. I'm really going to try and return soon. :)

One guess what I tell Callia when she can't find her blanket.

2008-05-12T11:43:00.002-04:00

As we were getting ready to take Callia to dance last week, I was looking for my keys. After several minutes, I found them. Well, I was buckling Callia into her seat and she said to me, "Oh! Mommy! Did you find your keys?"

"Yeah, I found them. They were on the computer desk."

She replied, "See. That's because you opened your eyes and looked for them."

Sigh... ;)

Cady's brain isn't perfect; it's amazing.

2008-05-12T11:31:00.005-04:00

So, if you've been keeping up, you know my CadyBug most likely has CP. A visit to the Follow-up Clinic in February told us this. We always knew it was possible, but considering how well she appeared to be doing, we didn't think it'd be too severe.

Well, last week we saw the neurologist (the same one who in January thought Cady could likely just "be a little clumsy") and she agreed with the neonatologist from the clinic: Cady's physical impairments are "significant."

I swear this child has something to prove. After the visit in February, she started reaching for things. Her head control got just a tiny bit stronger and she finally laughed! It's like she was just waiting for a good reason to show more signs of progress.

And now, after the visit to the neurologist, she has once again made great leaps in her therapy. She now reaches more than ever before (and quite purposefully, I might add) and according to one of her therapists (occupational), her legs aren't quite as tight as they were even last week.

I shot a video of her laughing and when she watches it, she laughs some more. She found Dora the Explorer hysterical the other day and when she sees Daddy after a long day of the kids and me, her face lights up. She is truly a gift.

Calling to say happy birthday.

2008-04-12T20:15:00.008-04:00

When I was 12-ish, I made friends with a boy named Donnie Tomasso. Donald L. Tomasso, Jr., to be proper. I have many fond memories of Donnie, some of which include a trip to the Boston Museum of Science and Park View dances. After junior high school, Donnie and I went to different high schools, but we stayed friends. We didn't talk too often throughout the year, just once in a while here and there. However, one thing was always a guarantee. Every year, Donnie knew with almost 100 percent certainty I would be calling him on January 15 to say, "Happy birthday."

Once, shortly after high school, I ran into him at the supermarket where he worked and he we started hanging around again (our friendship was always platonic). We spent many nights with a few of his friends and a couple of mine, just laughing and goofing off. That year, he even gave me a Christmas gift: a warm, fuzzy pair of orange and blue Goofy slipper socks. I still have them and how my husband hates them. He thinks they are ugly. I think they wonderful - so cozy and they have served me well on many a winter night.

Somehow, Donald and I lost touch. As a matter of fact, I ran into him one night at the Keg Room and he commented on how he hadn't heard from me that year. It was true. I don't recall why, but I hadn't called him to wish him a happy birthday. After that, the annual birthday wish stopped. Until last year that is (2007). I was sitting here at my computer doing some work and I realized the date - January 16. Though it was actually the day after his birthday, I remembered it was his special day and I decided to see if I could find him. I went to www.whitepages.com and sure enough, there was a listing in Taunton, Mass. I wasn't 100 percent sure it was him, but I knew he had gotten married in recent years since I saw the announcement in the paper. I checked the ProJo Web site for it and sure enough, his new bride was named Julie, the same name beside his in the phonebook.

I hesitated for a second, wondered what his wife might think of a strange woman calling him out of the blue, but I did anyway because I knew Donnie would love it. I knew it'd warm his heart and make him smile a little, knowing all these years later I hadn't forgotten his birthday. When I made the call, I was connected to whom I later learned was his mother-in-law. I told her who I was and why I was calling. She told me she was there babysitting the couple's young daughter. I was happy to hear he had a child. I asked her to pass along my birthday wishes and she promised she would.

A year went by and before I knew it, it was Donnie's birthday again, this time his 33rd. I thought about him several times during the day and finally, in the midst of all the chaos here in this house, I found a moment to sneak on the phone and make the call. I felt a little anxious as the phone was ringing and I actually was a little relieved to hear the answering machine pick up. I said, "Hi Donnie! It's Kelly calling to say happy birthday! I hope it's a good one! Maybe next year I'll get to talk to you. Hope you are well." I hung up the phone and smiled, knowing full well he'd come home to that message and know I still thought of him on his birthday each year.

This afternoon, my brother called me with a message from a friend he ran into last night. "Kelly," he said, "I ran into Erin Hicks last night and she told me to tell you Donnie Tomassa died." He was saying the name wrong, so part of me thought he was msitaken. He couldn't mean my friend Donnie. I said, "Who?" He said it again, "Donnie Tomassa." Now, you should know Erin was one of the friends that spent a lot of time hanging around with Donnie and me back in 1994. So, after a moment's hesitation, I knew what I was hearing. I said, "You mean Donnie Tomasso?" "Yes. That's it," he told me. He told me what Erin had told him - something about a pain in his side and internal bleeding. That was all I heard. Instead, I was thinking in my head about my annual phone calls and how I wished he had answered the phone when I called three months ago.

I felt my eyes well up with tears. I hung up with him and called Danika. I referred back to the same Web site I had last year to check for his wedding announcement for his obituary. There it was, his big smile and squinty eyes staring back at me. I read about his family, his young daughters, one of whom was described as infant. I wondered how old she was and in an instant my heart broke for them and I felt compelled to call his wife, whom I've never met but did hear Donnie mention once when I ran into him at the Keg Room years ago.

As the phone rang, my heart started racing. What would I say to her? Would she even be up for talking to me? The call was answered and I am pretty sure it was the same voice I heard a year and 3 months ago when I called the first time. "Is Julie there?" I asked. "Who's calling?" she asked. I told her who I was ("the crazy girl who calls Donald every year on his birthday) and that I had just heard the news of his death. I told her I felt the need to call Julie to offer my sympathies and asked if she might be willing or able to speak.

She asked me to hold and in a few seconds came back to tell me Julie was changing the baby's diaper, but that she would be right with me. My heart pounded even harder as I waited for her to pick up, but once she did, the words came naturally. I told her who I was and how I had just heard the news. I told her how sorry I was and asked how she was doing. She told me she was still in shock, but that she knew she would get through it since she has two daughters to care for.

We talked for a few minutes. I asked what happened and she told me he was sick for a week in the hospital and had undergone several surgeries. At first it was thought he had appendicitis, but in fact they learned he had several tumors on his kidneys and one ruptured. She said it was a very stressful time for her watching, her husband suffer like that, and in the end, she was actually relieved. Both of his kidneys were in failure and he would have lived his life on dyalisis - something she knew his fun-loving, free spirit would never have been able to endure.

We laughed about my annual calls and she told me I was right - he did get a kick out of them. I asked about the baby and she told me she was a newborn. I asked how new and she hesitated. I could tell I wasn't going to like what I heard. "Donnie died Sunday and Amanda was born Monday morning." I nearly lost my composure right there, but I kept it together for her sake. Every part of me wanted to reach through the phone and give her the biggest hug I could. She told me she was induced shortly after he died and, to add insult to injury, her birthday was the day before he died.

I wasn't sure what else to say to her. After a brief pause, I said this: "I know you don't know me and I don't know what I could possibly do for you, but if there is anything you need, I don't know what, but --"

"Actually, Kelly, there is something you can do for me," she said.

"Sure. Anything," I answered, not sure what she was going to say.

"Call me every year on his birthday," she said, choking on tears.

"I will," I said, as I swallowed my own, "I promise."

And I will.

Rest in peace, my dear friend, Donnie. You will be missed.
1/15/75 - 4/6/08

Check out CadyBug Designs!!

2008-03-27T22:57:00.002-04:00

As you might know already, I am in the process of starting my own business doing birth announcements, invitations, photo cards, etc. It's something I've enjoyed doing for a while, but only recently have a I decided to try and start a business making money off of it.

I already have my Web site started and it's under construction by my niece's father. I got lucky that Rich likes to develop sites, but he's still new at it so he enjoys the practice. Fine by me. I can't do it at all, so he's already better than what I could've done.

In the meantime, I have a MySpace page set up at www.myspace.com/cadybugdesigns. Please check it out and pass me on to all your family and friends. I really am anxious and excited to get this thing going!!

South Carolina, here we come!

2008-03-27T00:35:00.003-04:00

A couple of years ago, and again last spring, Corey and I talked about possibly moving to one of the Carolinas. The only thing stopping me from really wanting to just go for it was my family. I didn't want to take my kids away from my parents and sister and vice versa. Of course I'd miss them (all of them-not just my parents and Kerri), but I knew I'd be ok if I didn't see them all the time. My kids on the other hand, that I wasn't too sure about.

But then last week, I started thinking about it again. New England is just too damn expensive - not to mention COLD! I am sick of the winter and tired of being cooped up in the house with my kids all day. I want to get out and enjoy the outdoors. Go for walks, have picnics or just lounge in the sun. Here, winter comes in November and stays through April. We spend 6 motnhs of the years waiting for the other six months. Bah!

Oh, but in South Carolina. Shorter winters, barely any snow (I HATE SNOW!) and beautfiul 75* days in April and November. Average highs of 55 in February. Ahh...that's what I am talking about.

And the housing! Goodness! I did a search with our criteria in some towns around here and one hit for a dump in Warwick. In South Carolina, tons of them. You wouldn't believe the house I saw today for $129,900. I sent C the link and we both fell in love.

Of course, that house is out of the question. We won't be making this trek until after next tax season. We have a few things to set in place first, so that is looking like the time we will go. We can't wait!!!

Not sure I can make this work

2008-03-27T00:32:00.003-04:00

I really wanted to do this whole "blogging thing," but so far, I suck at it. I never have the time to sit and think during the day to write anything even remotely interesting, funny or charming and at night I am too tired to write anything even remotely interesting, funny or charming. I'm going to keep plugging away at it though, and we'll see how it goes.

Adios, Diego!

2008-03-02T21:31:00.002-05:00

My son is many things. Funny is pretty close to the top of that list.

All three of my kids are in bed, but about a half-hour ago, I heard the toilet seat slam shut. I get up to investigate, even though I was nearly certain what was happening. Kiefer has a rotten habit of tossing things into the toilet and as I walked up the stairs, I could only imagine what I might find. Sure enough, just as I reached the top, Kiefer came running at me full steam ahead with a huge grin on his face, shouting the same "word" over and over. I knew it was one I should know, but I just couldn't make it out.

As I walked past him to the bathroom, he followed closely behind me, still shouting this incomprehensible word. I opened the seat, fully expecting to see a block, perhaps a Little People character - I don't know. Something small resting at the bottom. Oh no...I did not.

Instead, I find his talking Diego doll, floating face up. Then, he shouts it again, "Yogok!" Kiefer for Diego. (Although, I could be making that up. The actual word escapes me now, so that one will work for now.) I pick Yogok up out of the toilet and press his tummy to see if he still works. "HOLA! I'm Diego!" Kiefer's smile turns into a frown and he backs up a few feet. Too tired to deal with it, I place Diego on the counter, wash my hands and usher Kiefer out the door. Just as I am about to close it, Diego yells, "Adios!" Kiefer, all smiles again as he has realized Diego is getting left behind, does a half turn, waves to the door and says, "Adio, Yogok!"

About five minutes ago, it dawned on me. That Diego doll was sitting on the shelf near his bed. I can confidently say Kiefer got tired of the toy staring at him and decided he'd take care of him once and for all.

Bad news AND a bad day for Cady and me.

2008-03-01T12:33:00.004-05:00

I've been keeping this mostly to myself for a couple of days, but I feel it's time to share. We had an absolutely awful day on Thursday.

Cady was seen by a neonatologist for a follow up. (The hospital where she was born has a follow-up clinic where they follow the progress of all babies who spend time in the NICU.) As we are going through the exam, the neonatologist is asking me all the usual questions and he asked me what her neurologist told me. I reported to him that she told me that while she can't say for certain what her future will be like, she is encouraged by her progress so far and she might just be "clumsy." He seemed somewhat surprised by that and said he believed that was a "gross understatement" and asked if anyone had ever mentioned Cerebral Palsy to me. I said they had while she was in the NICU, but not since then. I said, "Why? You think she has it?" He said, "Oh yes."

Now, at first I wasn't too fazed by that. Technically, if you look at it's definition (Cerebral palsy (CP)is an umbrella term encompassing a group of non-progressive,[1] non-contagious condition that cause physical disability in human development. - Wikipedia), she does have it. Her condition isn't going to worsen, is not contagious and her physical development is impaired. However, as we were talking, he really began to upset me. He seemed nearly certain she has CP and came short of giving her an official CP diagnosis. I asked if she would likely have a mild case and, not in these words, he told me while it was possible, it was probably hoping for too much and that her case would likley be too severe to be classified as "mild." He said at this point she should have full head control and the tightness in her arms and legs were of a serious concern to him. Umm...ok...?

We knew this was possible, but considering how well she appears to be doing, I was somewhat shocked and, naturally, very upset. Her PT thinks she is making great strides, her doc thought she looked great at her 6 month check-up and I have noticed some big improvements in her all around. Therefore, I am trying not to put too much weight in what this doctor said. This was only the second time he's seen her and it was just a snapshot. We had woken her up for the exam and so she was tired and getting hungry. He did say he could be wrong and he hoped he was. He said we are doing everything we can for her now so to keep doing what we are doing and come back in 6 months. Even though we are trying to stay positive, I am really having a tough time dealing with this.

If that weren't enough, the day actually got worse after that.

When we got home, it was total chaos. Cady was supposed to have eaten at 11, but we didn't leave the doc's office until almost 1. As soon as we got out to the car, I started her feeding, but when we got home, I paused the pump for a minute so I could bring everyone in the house. Once we were in, everyone was up in arms. Kiefer was screaming and clawing at me for no reason, Callia was bugging me about something, and Cady was crying to get out of her seat. I unbuckled her and in my haste, forgot to check where the extension attached to her button was (we are usually very mindful of it when picking her up and moving her around). As soon as I realized what I did, it was too late. It got caught on the little slits where the seatbelt would go were you to not use a base and ripped right out of her belly. For those of you who don't know, the way the button works is there is a narrow piece with a balloon on the end that you stick in the hole in her belly. Once it is in you, you fill the balloon with water and that is what holds it in place and keeps it from coming out of her belly. The size of the inflated balloon is about that of a quarter. It, in tact, came right out of her belly. Cady didn't skip a beat. I swear she didn't even feel it. She was happy and smiling and, to be honest, I think she enjoyed the few hours it was out.

Oh yes, I said a FEW HOURS.

After it came out, I had to hold my hand over her belly because I didn't want that little bit of formula that she had to leak out. So, one-handed, I try to get everything together to replace it. Kiefer is STILL screaming, as he was tired and hungry, as well, and I just can't do it. Luckily, I knew my sister was in the neighborhood visiting a friend, so I called her and asked her to come by and help me. When she got here, I had her hold her hand on Cady's belly while I got everything together. When I went into the box to get the new button, I found that it was gone. Now, I had opened the package a few weeks ago to use the extension that was in there since we were out of new ones and I needed one. I looked all around for it, but it was nowhere to be found. I figured it had somehow gotten lost since I opened the package.

I call the medical supply company to ask if they can get me a new one. They looked and it was in stock. I taped gauze pads on Cady's belly, left the kids with my sister and drove to get the new one. That took a little more than a half-hour, so all said, it had been just over an hour by the time I tried putting the new one in since it came out. Well, try as we did, Kerri and I could not get the button in. It was too soft and kept slipping all over the place. I call the surgeon's office and they tell me to come in.

So now I have to wake a miserable, sleeping Kiefer to get him in my sister's car. She was going to watch them, but she had to get home to her daughters since her fiance had to go to work. (Oh, and as we were walking out my front door, I found the missing button on the floor.) We get to the doc's office and wait ANOTHER hour and a half to be seen. At this point it's been out for more than 3 hours. And guess what? He can't get it in either. So, the plan of action is to insert a smaller catheter into the hole and increase it in size until we dilate the hole to the size of her button. The first one goes in fine. The second one she whined a bit but it was ok. The third one, which was the same size as the button, wouldn't go in. Becauase they are soft, it kept slipping and sliding. So he goes and gets some harder stick-like catheter that won't move when you pierce it in and he jammed it into the hole. O...M..G. I never, IN MY LIFE, heard any child of mine scream the way this child did. I am usually pretty good at dealing with seeing my kids in pain (like stuff like shots doesn't really bother me), but it was all I could do to not cry. So after he gets that in, he goes to put the button in. She is SCREAMING and wiggling all about. I hold her legs down while looking in the opposite direction. He tries and tries and once he stops, I assume it's in. I look over and not only was he not successful, there is a small pool of blood about the size of a nickel on her belly. He assures me this is normal and we try again. This time I won't look until he tells me it is in, tears welling in my eyes.

After we are done, Cady, who at this point still hasn't eaten since 8 a.m., except for that little bit she got in the car on the way home from the Follow-up Clinic, screams for another 45 minutes before passing out. I felt so bad for her. I gave her some pain reliever once we got home and in the morning, she seemed fine.

Gah!!

Married to Will Ferrell

2008-02-24T13:00:00.003-05:00

Could you imagine what it must be like to be married to Will Ferrell? That guy is SOOO funny. I mean really, really funny. Corey and Callia are watching Elf right now and I nearly spit out my wine when he says, "I'm smiling. Smiling's my favorite!"

Although, I bet getting into an argument would suck. He'd think he's so funny and you'd holler, "What is so funny? Why are you smiling?" and he'd say, "I love smiling. Smiling's my favorite." Would you then laugh and in turn get even madder at him for making you laugh, or would you be able to ignore him? Definitely something to think about.

And if you haven't seen Wedding Crashers, you haven't seen the best of Will Ferrell.

A little bit about Kiefer Doodle.

2008-02-22T14:55:00.003-05:00

I still have a ton of stuff I want to post regarding all Cadence has been through before I feel like I've caught up and can start focusing just on the current life events, but since iVillage is down and I was going to copy and paste a bunch of stuff I posted there (yes, I am too lazy to re-type it all), I figured I'd talk a little about my Dood.

Not a typo. Dood is short for Doodle. As in our little Kiefer Doodle. My precious son. What a fricking pain in the ass that kid is! LOL! But I love him so much (duh.). He got that nickname when he was really young, like about 2 months old, maybe. He always used to cry and cry and cry and drove poor Callia, who was just 2 at the time, nuts. She'd ask why the baby was crying and I say, "He's just being a stinker. He's a little stinker doodle." From there, Stinker Doodle became Kiefer Doodle and before long, just Doodle or even Dood. Since Corey loves to call people names (in an endearing fashion), he picked up on this right away and started using it himself. Now, here we are 17 months later and he even answers to Doodle. Kinda funny, huh? I often wonder if when he's 17. I'll still be calling him Doodle. I bet I will. I also bet he's going to hate it. So, of course, I'll just do it more.

Anyway, that little dood is STILL such a stinker!! I guess some things don't change. When he was a baby he was just whiney and clingy. He hit 1 and settled down a little and was even fun to be around. I soon realized he was a joker and enjoyed making us laugh (my Callia often gets so mad when you laugh at her). Corey loves it when he forms his lips almost like into a kiss, but pushes his lips up into his nose. C thinks this is quite funny and laughs so hard, which in turn gets Kiefer going. They have been known to sit on the couch for weeks at a time doing this.

But then something happened. I cut his hair. OK, cut isn't an appropriate word. I buzzed it off. Because I felt like, that's why! And YES, I know I live in New England and YES, I know it gets cold here in the winter. I just wanted to see what it would look like, OK??? Well, I swear he vowed revenge on me that day because ever since I did that, he has become evil Satan child. He hits, pulls hair, bites and scratches. He throws his food on the floor, refuses to eat and literally follows me around as I clean, messing it all back up again. He won't listen, even though I KNOW he understands me and will not go to bed at night. C and I even had to rearrange the furniture in our room earlier this week to fit the baby's crib in so he doesn't bother her with his nighttime shenanigans.

C and I talked about this at length and have decided it's important to be a little bit more patient and understanding with him. I mean, we've always known life must be a little tough for him being the only boy and booted from baby to middle child before he even turned 1, but even still, we couldn't understand why the same tactics used on Callia weren't working with him. Since he's not the baby, C doesn't think of him as one and tends to expect more from him. So, we are trying harder than ever (we've always tried before) to give him lots of extra special attention and make sure he feels loved and special.

It seems to be working. He's starting to come around and while he still walks behind Callia, who is sitting in a chair minding her own business, and pulls her hair for no reason (I try to hide my laughter because, frankly, it's kinda funny to watch unfold), he's not nearly as sinister as he had been even just a week ago.

I think it's because his hair is starting to grow back in.

Hasn't she been through enough?

2008-02-22T14:41:00.002-05:00

My poor bug is sick. :( She's had a cold for more than 3 months now and it just doesn't seem to go away. As recently as 3 weeks ago she saw her pediatrician for her 6 month check up and there were no signs of sinus or ear infections.

Well, two nights ago I could hear her wheezing in her crib and when I picked her up, she was really fighting hard to breathe. (This after she threw up all over herself from trying to cough. She doesn't have a very forceful cough, so it gets stuck in her throat and she winds up gagging and vomiting.) I called the doc as soon as the office was open at 9. The girl said, "How far do you live? I have a 9:15." Well, yeah I can be there in 15 minutes - if I don't get anyone dressed!! We took the next appointment - 10:00.

Long story short, her doc wasn't there but the CNP said it sounded like bronchiolitis, sent us home with a nebulizer and an Rx for albuterol and told us to return today to see Dr. B. Of course today, of all days, it had to snow, so I had to drag Cady and Kiefer out this morning (luckily Callia spent the night at my sister's house) in the snow back to the doc's office. He confirmed the bronchiolitis and also said from listening to her lungs, it sounds like pneumonia might be brewing in there. He gave us a prescription for an antibiotic and sent us back out into the snow.

I feel so bad for her! I mean, I know she'll be ok, but this poor kid has been poked and prodded so much already, not to mention fought to breathe the first 12 days of her life, she shouldn't have to deal with this, too. She seems ok, though. Smiling and cooing at times and actually slept through the night last night. Hopefully we caught this early and she doesn't wind up getting worse.

The worst news of my life...

2008-02-21T00:05:00.005-05:00

The following are excerpts of some posts I put up on one of my mesageboards:

7/26/07

I DID get to hold Cady yesterday for an hour. It was so nice, but still not enough. (Yes, I'm being greedy.) I wanted to touch her skin and let her feel mine, but I had to hold the oxygen tube over her nose the whole time. It was still AWESOME though. :)

I just called and her oxygen is back up to 30-40%. It was down to about 24 yesterday. But they said they tried putting her in the nasal canula last night and she didn't tolerate it too well so they put her back in the hood. I guess that pooped her out so they had to raise her oxygen level. That's ok though. They say sometimes it's two steps forward and one step back, so I guess she digressed a bit. However, she is getting there, just very slowly. Her last x-ray showed some progress, though there is still a bit of meconium in her lungs. Right now it's just a matter of waiting for her to get better.

The biggest thing that has me concerned right now is that they noticed she hasn't been very responsive. They said this could be indicative of some brain damage due to the knot in her cord causing a lack of oxygen to her brain while she was in utero. However, they said that she was fiesty and responsive when she was first born tells them that it is most likely that she is just worn out from fighting so hard to breathe. I am hoping and wishing and praying that that is all. I am an absolute nervous wreck over it.

7/27/07

I don't even know how to type this. I got to the hospital today just as shift change was ending and they let me in the NICU not realizing Cadence was having an echocardiogram. So, after scrubbing in I waited off to the side for the tech to be done. After like 10 minutes, the head neonatologist came over to me and asked if we could talk. She took me to a private room where we were eventually joined by two social workers and another doctor. She basically told me that she, the nurses and the other doctors were all concerned about Cadence's behavior. They said there were two things that specifically raised some red flags: she holds her thumbs inside her hand (not sure exactly what that means or why it's a concern) and when you tap her forehead between her eyes, she should blink and she doesn't. They said it could be any number of things. It could be nothing - that she is still just very sick and out of it. It could be she has an infection like meningitis, although the doc felt this was a very unlikely scenario. It could mean she had some compression on her brain as she was coming out and she broke some blood vessels. This would be a great prognosis as it will resolved itself over time. Or it could be she suffered some brain damage due to the knot in her cord cutting off her oxygen supply.

They said we won't know more until she gets better with her breathing (which is slowly improving). They said anything it could be they are treating her for already (antibiotics) and so they will just wait until she is better to further examine her. They said they will do a CAT scan to look at her brain and a spinal tap to test for meningitis. They also said they will have her evaluated by a pediatric neurologist. They even said they'd have an eye doctor look at her because she might have a problem with her eyesight. They said she can at least see lights as she reacts to lights in her face, but they aren't sure beyond that.

I am sick over this. I got to the hospital with only 45 minutes to visit. By the time they were done talking to me, it was just about time to go. I stopped by her bedside quickly to say hi and then had to go. I couldn't bring myself to go back this evening. I can't eat. I can't sleep. I can't do anything but cry and think of my poor baby and pray she is going to be ok. Corey went there after me and talked to the doctor as well. She told him to reassure me that this was nothing I did or in any way my fault. Rationally, I know that is true, but it doesn't stop me from thinking it was. My heart is broken right now and I don't know how to deal. I look at my other two kids and I find them to be even more of a miracle and a blessing than I did just one week ago, but yet I am too sad to enjoy them.

I admit to not being a very religious person. This is by no means meant to be a religious debate, but just so you know where I stand, I guess the best way to describe myself is a non-denominatioal, non-practicing Christian. I believe in God and his son Jesus Christ, but that's about it. I don't know what form of Christianity I believe in and I haven't bothered to figure it out. Whenever someone here is asking for support, I don't like to lie and say I will be praying for them since I am not the praying type. Instead, I offer my PTs and send out well wishes. Well, let me tell you - praying to God is all I've done the last 10 hours. I have begged, pleaded and bargained for a miracle. I am now asking all of you who believe to do the same. If not, all the support and positive thoughts you can muster up are just as welcomed and appreciated.

7/30/07

First and foremost, I want to say thank you to everyone who responded to my last post in this folder. I don't even have the words (and I am a writer!) to tell you all how heartwarming and humbling it was to read all of those responses and personal e-mails. Your words of prayer, encouragement and support truly did help me get through the last few days. For that, I am immensely grateful. You are all so kind and wonderful and on behalf on myself and my entire family, thank you a million times over.

Ok, now on to my sweet Cadence. I got to the hospital today and was told Cady had her CAT scan a few hours earlier. My stomach turned. I was consumed with anxiety and fear. They told me the attending would be over to talk to me soon. Long story short, I was told Cadence has a small spot on the CAT scan that could be one of two things: a bit of brain damage or a spot where she moved her head during the test. She said once Cady got better, they would have her evaluated by a pediatric neurologist and she would likely have an MRI. She said the part of the brain where they saw the spot is called the caudate nucleus and it is an important part of the brain (I looked it up and found it is the part of the brain that controls learning and memory), but we have two of them. She also told me infant brains are very "plastic" and often times when there's damage to one part, other parts will sort of pick up the slack and take over for the damaged area. She said she would most likely go into Early Intervention and be monitored by a neurologist for at least the first 18 months of her life to see how she is developing. She said while we don't know just what we are dealing with as of yet, she believes we can be "guardedly optimisitic."

ETA: I had only read a few sentences about the caudate nucleus prior to posting this and it seems it is involved with a lot more than just learning and memory (voluntary movement in the brain, body movement and coordination. Also, a malfunction in this part of the brain is believed to be the cause for OCD...sigh). I am just hoping if it IS damaged, it's not going to effect her too greatly and, like the doc said, other parts of her brain will make up for it.

I've been told by another doctor and some of the nurses that Cady has been a bit more alert and responsive and while there is some concern about her muscle tone, it seems to be a bit better than it was. She has an occupational therapist working with her, although I don'tknow how that is going because she was supposed to have her first session earlier this evening and the nurse knew nothing about it when I called at 9. Everyone seems to want to give me reason to have hope, but they just can't be sure yet what we are dealing with. On Saturday when I was visiting with her, I was holding her and she appeared to be looking at me and all around us. One of the drs., the one who made it a point to tell me last week that my baby was "very sick," walked by, looked at Cadence and became very excited. She said, "Oh my gosh! She is looking at you!!" I said, "Yeah, I thought so but I didn't want to get my hopes up if she was just looking in my direction," and the dr. said, "No, no! She is looking at you. She is really looking at you!!" Considering how pessimistic she had been prior, it made me feel really, really good. Then on Sunday, I ran into my midwife and she was surprised to see us there. When I told her what was going on, she told me there were some tests done on the cord blood after she was born that looks for any evidence of where she might've had some lack of oxygen and it all came back normal. That also made us feel better.

As for her breathing, she is slowly getting better. She's in the nasal cannula now and has been since Friday (no more hood). Her resp. rate is still high, but going down. She was taken off the UVC (a small tube that feeds her through her belly button) tonight and put onto an IV for food. The nurse suspects she will start feeding in a couple more days. She had the spinal tap today, but we haven't gotten the results back yet. Also, she is done with the antibiotics (unless the tap shows something there in which case she might stay on them a few more days). Still no word on when she can come home, but I am guessing another week or so.
I am still a nervous wreck, but somewhat more relaxed. I know we are not out of the woods yet, but I do feel much better. Please, if you can spare them, keep the P&PTs coming. They are so, so appreciated. HUGE, HUGE HUGS!!!! <3>

The story of Cady's birth

2008-02-20T23:07:00.005-05:00

Cadence Ann, born 7/20/07 at 10:14 p.m. 8 lbs., 1 oz.

On July 18, I was having some minor contractions that while they were not timeable, were slightly painful, so I called my midwife and she had me come into the office to check me out. She examined me and found I had progressed to 4 cm from my appt. the week before when I was 3, however I was still not at all effaced. She suggested if I had not gone into labor on my own before Friday morning, I call her while she was on call at the hospital and she'd see about possibly breaking my water then.

As Friday approached, I started thinking more and more about whether having her break my water was a good thing. In the past, I've had my kids pretty quickly after my water broke, but I started getting nervous thinking what if nothing happened and they needed to give me pitocin. I was dead set against this. So, in the meantime, I did everything I thought safe to induce labor: pineapples, spicy food, red wine, walking, sex... Nothing worked. On Friday morning, I called the MW and it turned out the hospital was too busy to give her a nurse unless I was actually in labor. She told me to "make passionate love" to my husband and she guaranteed she'd see me in the next 23 hours she was on call. I told her there'd be nothing passionate about it...lol. She insisted and said, "It doesn't have to be good for him, just good for you." I hung up the phone and we headed upstairs. Still nothing.

I wound up taking a nap and after I woke up, Corey wanted to take the kids to the park. We did and on our way back, we stopped at my parents' house. While we were there, we decided to stay for dinner. Corey was going to make us all Philly cheesesteak sandwiches and he insisted I go with him to the store to get the stuff. He wanted me out and walking as much as possible. When we got back, he started cooking and the rest of us just hung out and played with the kids. We sat down to eat about 7 and a few minutes in, I noticed the contractions I had been feeling for a few days now were starting to catch my attention and were actually timeable. I then announced to a room full of relatives (it was my parents, my aunt and her boyfriend and her two kids, my husband and my two kids) that the baby was coming tonight. Corey let out a loud, “YAHOO!”
I started timing them and they were 2-5 minutes apart. At 7:30, I called the MW, Lucie, and I told her while normal people wait an hour, I didn’t think I should since I knew it was the real deal and since I have fast labors, we wanted to get in there ASAP to get the antibiotics (I test positive for the Group B Strep). She agreed and told me to come right away.

When I got there, the waiting room was PACKED! I waited a few minutes before I went back up to the desk and told them while I wasn’t trying to be pushy and I saw they were very busy, I had fast labors and was GBS+ and needed to get on the antibiotics right away. To my surprise, they took me right in, did my BP, paged Lucie and put me in triage. They hooked me up to a monitor and started the IV. Lucie checked me and I was 7 cm.

After a few minutes in triage on the monitor, Lucie told me the baby’s heart rate was too high and because of that, they were moving me up to a regular L&D room, not the ABC (Alternative Birthing Center) like I had planned, so they could keep me on the monitor. Fine by me. She also tells me just Corey in the room for now even though my best friend was waiting with my parents to film and take pictures.

Once we got upstairs and got settled in, Lucie broke my water at 9:11. She immediately noticed meconium in the fluid and told Corey he wasn’t going to get to cut the cord after all. She said because of the meconium, a team of pediatricians would take her as soon as she came out and work on her right away. I knew a little bit about meconium and what is was and that it is usually not a big deal, so I wasn’t really worried about it.

I breathed through the contractions for an hour and with each one, I had to tell myself in my head over and over again, “You can do this. You can do this.” They flipping hurt!! With the first few really bad ones, I was a little freaked out thinking, I can’t do this and I considered drugs. But, I reminded myself that I had done it twice before and I could do it again. Just breathe through them, I told myself.

Because I was on my side the whole time, I wasn't sure if the baby was moving of if perhaps it was time to push. I was starting to get antsy again, so I asked Lucie to check me again. She did and I was 10 cm. "It's time to meet this baby who couldn't keep her room clean," she said. "Or womb, whichever you prefer." She reminded me the importance of making sure to stop pushing when she said so she could suction her out. If not for that, Cadence would have been born with one big push. Instead, I pushed, held, held, held..."Come on!! Can't...hold...anymore...!!" Released hold, pushed and out came Cadence, following by a really large splash. I didn't look. It was 10:14 p.m.

Just as Lucie said there would be, a team of doctors came in and worked on Cadence for...gosh, a few minutes anyway. It felt like an hour, but it was probably more like 5 minutes, if that. I didn't hear her crying, but I had seen, heard and read enough to know that was ok - I needn't be too concerned. When after a few minutes she was barely squeaking, they told me they were bringing her to the NICU and I could expect her to be there at least 48 hours. (Of course this meant my entire post-pardum stay she never came into the room with me once.) She had inhaled a considerable amount of meconium and needed intensive care. They brought her over to me and she was just gorgeous. It all happened so fast, so thinking back all I can remember are her eyes. She had the longest lashes - and her lips were so perfect. I held her for about 10 seconds and she was taken away again.

I knew she was in good hands. I tried not to get upset and I told myself she was going to be fine. No matter what she was going through, they had everything they needed to care for her and help her with her breathing until she was well enough to do it on her own. After she was taken away, I was in good spirits. We delivered the afterbirth and Lucie commented on how she had found our culprit. There was a true knot in her cord (pic: http://i29.photobucket.com/albums/c282/austricklia/CalliasPictures001.jpg ) It was her belief that the knot was causing her to release the meconium, breathe it in and raise her heart rate. I distinctly remember thinking how lucky I was she was ok. I had no idea what was in store...

It's been a while...

2008-02-20T23:05:00.000-05:00

In fact, it's been 7 months since my last post. And so, so, SO much has happened. I really wish I had been blogging all along. I think I could have used the outlet. I am going to do my best to keep up with this now that I have taken the time to finally update.

On July 20, 2007, my beautiful Cadence was finally born. It's weird and I don't quite have the words to describe what I want to say. Though hers was my easiest labor, it was the...hardest? No...that's not it. I guess stressful might work? I intend to post the story of her birth immediately following this one, so you can read it there, but to sum it up, she was born with Meconium Aspiration Syndrome. It turns out there was a knot in her cord causing her all sorts of issues, including the meconium to be released and for her to inhale it in. She was on oxygen 12 days, including an overnight intubation her first night.

She spent 5 weeks and 5 days in the NICU. While she was there, we found out the knot had done more damage than we thought - at some point it cut off the oxygen to her brain and damaged her thalamus. You can read more about that in future posts I will be adding very soon. The long story short is she is hypertonic in some areas, hypotonic in other, is fed through a g-tube (she has a disorganized suck, swallow breathe reflex and therefore aspirates on her formula) and is behind on all of hr milestones. She receives Early Intervention and so far, she is doing quite well, it seems.

As I am sure you can imagine, life has been quite hectic around these parts. But, I really wanted to get into blogging and even though I let it go all those months ago, I really want to make a sincere effort to do it right this time around. I plan on posting a few more times with some back story on Cadence, but once I do, I hope to use this blog as way of venting, sharing mine and Cady's experience with others and hopefully humor some of you with my antics as a stay-at-home mom.

So, thanks for reading! I hope to catch up to the present soon. :)

I will hunt her down.

2007-07-15T01:57:00.000-04:00

It's 2 a.m. on the day I am estimated to have this baby. It is also the day my sister swore I'd have her. Now, people always have their two cents to add about when they just "know" you are going to have the baby, but in the case of my sister, I tend to believe it as she accurately predicted both Callia and Kiefer's birthday. (Don't bother asking her where Jimmy Hoffa is; she only seems to have this knack when it comes to her big sister.) When it was so lovingly announced back on Thanksgiving that I was pregnant AGAIN (a story I will tell another time), she said July 15 popped into her head immediately. She didn't even know when I was due.

As today approached, she was more and more sure of herself. She called me several hours ago to ask if I had my bags packed. Well, duh! Of course! She commented I could have waited until then to do it. She said the hours were counting down. Now, let me make something clear here. I am typically pretty patient. I did fine waiting for Callia and Kiefer to make their grand entrances into this world. As I am CERTAIN this is our last baby, you'd think I'd just enjoy the last few days before she comes to snuggle with my current baby, enjoy Cady's kicks and just overall be one with the pregnancy glow (my ass!).

Well, instead I am dealing with a pain so excruciating, it puts labor to shame. (No, not really. How I am looking forward to it is beyond me.) The back pain, yeah, that hurts, but it's the pubic symphasis that has me down and out. Has anyone ever felt this? Holy crap! I swear, it feels like someone is taking a sledgehammer and beating the shit out of my pubic bone. I had it with my first two, though worse with Kiefer. With this pregnancy, I felt it as early as 8 weeks along. Today, the pain is much worse than anything I ever felt with Kiefer. I honestly cannot even go shopping. I went to Kohl's the other day with my mother and the kids (don't ask me what the hell I was thinking) and I sat every chance I got. The mannequins and I became quite friendly as their little platforms make a perfect place to plant my rather large preggo butt. The looks of sheer pity from passersby was more than I could bear and when we were done for the day, I told my mother I was done. I was committing myself to home confinement until D-Day. it was just too much for me to gather myself and the kids and head on out. (Of course, she laughed at me when I went to Target the next day to pick up Cal's pictures.)

I can't do anything around the house. Poor Corey worked 12 hours today (er...yesterday) and came home to a sink still full of dishes. I honestly cannot even stand there long enough to wash one fork. It's quite pathetic, really. Ok, so given all this and more, I am BEYOND ready to meet little Cadence and I have convinced myself Kerri is right and her birthday will be today (even though I always thought the 18th). It's to the point now where if I don't have her today, I will be so disappointed. I told my sister I was likely to kill her if she was wrong. She laughed. I didn't. I said, ok, just don't say I didn't warn you. She then told me if that were the case, she was avoiding me until I actually do have her (which shouldn't be too hard since I am under self-imposed home confinement now, remember?). Well, I just might have to come out of hiding to hunt down her psychic-my-ass ass.

I'm going to bed now. Pray, for her sake, Kerri was right.

My sweet Callia

2007-06-30T00:34:00.000-04:00

It was my intention to write this on the 29th, but since it is after midnight, it's no longer Callia's birthday. I still can't believe she's 3!! Amazing!

She had a nice day today. Since Corey took the day out of work, he got up with Kiefer and let Callia and me sleep. That was very nice of him, except we had an appointment to get her pictures taken at 10 and we didn't get up until 10 of nine. I still had to paint her toes and figure out what I was going to do with her mop. C insisted I didn't put it half up and there was no way I was putting it in a ponytail. Don't get me wrong, they look cute on her, but not for her pictures. Now, you should keep in mind my daughter has head of wild curls, especially in the summer when it's humid. As we had no time for a bath, I sprayed it down with water, brushed and parted it on the side and pulled it back with a barrette. I have to say, it actually looked pretty decent.

As we walked through Target, toward the portrait studio, I SWEAR at least four people commented on how pretty she was. She was wearing an outfit she received for her birthday LAST YEAR, sized 24 months, and it was still a little big on her. I had actually forgotten about it and even had another outfit picked out for her until I remembered I still had some summer clothes with tags still on them hanging in the closet. I spotted this light purple Carter's outfit and knew right away she had to wear that instead. Here's a pic of when we got home (like her new Dora bike she waited months for?).

So, anyway, I was little nervous about how she was going to do with the whole smiling thing. Lately every picture of her consists of a big, fake, cheesy grin, her eyes scrunched up and she's looking toward the ceiling. I guess I've taken too many pictures of her over the last THREE YEARS (my God, help me).

Can I just tell you, she did so well? I was so impressed! She did get a little uneasy when the girl had he lay on her back with her hands behind her head and her feet up in the air (sounds weird, I know). I could see she was about to cry and I couldn't have that, so I nixed that idea pretty quickly and suggested we try something else. Other than that, she gave us some great shots with that gorgeous smile, a few serious faces sprinkled in.

After we left there, she and daddy went to the store and then my sister stopped by for a short visit. A bit later, We took her out to eat for dinner and her face lit up when the servers came over and sang to her (I kicked myself afterward for not snapping a few pics). I swear, she even seemed older to me today. She even has a new attitude to go with new her 3-year-old self. Usually when she wants something she whines if we tell her no. TWICE today the little stinker shot right back at us and demanded whatever it was she wanted.

Funny. The intent behind this post was originally to talk about Callia in general, not her birthday. I wanted to share some of my own feelings about my little lady and tell a few stories about her, but now I am REALLY tired and quite ready for bed. I just want her to stay a little girl forever, not turn "free" (as she says three). But, for the record, if you ask Callia, she still says she 2. That's my girl...

So, about Patrick and Austin...

2007-06-28T08:42:00.000-04:00

Ok, here's the story of my stepsons.

When I first met Corey eight years ago, he was newly separated from his wife, Gisella, of five years, had a son who was 5 months old and another on the way (we worked together). After years of fighting (verbal and physical on her part), he kept trying to make it work, especially when he learned she was pregnant with the first. (They were split for 18 months or so before they got back together and conceived Patrick. She came to him, swearing she had gotten help. Lie.) After it became apparent it wasn't going to work for the sake of the first, he didn't bother staying for the sake of the second, Austin. During the time she was pregnant with him, she made it virtually impossible for him to see Patrick. This worsened after Austin was born, but after months and years of fighting, he was finally happy with his visitation schedule and child support order after a court appearance in late 2002.

On the same day my daughter was born, June 29, 2004, Gisella filed a TRO (temporary restraining order) against my husband alleging he sexually moleseted the boys. She also alleged I was there and saw the whole thing and told the boys not to tell anyone or else daddy would go to jail. She also said my next-door-neighbor, who was never in my house when the boys were over save for one birthday party we had for Corey in late 2003, was in on it, too, abusing one while he abused the other. These claims were of course completely untrue and very disheartening. Corey is such a wonderful father who truly put his kids first (to the point I was jealous at times knowing he loved them more than me). To make matters worse, the mother is a nut. No joke! I know there are people out there with mental illness and I take the subject very seriously and don't joke about it. That said, this woman has SEVERE mental issues and in my humble opinion needs to be committed. I'm happy to give details to anyone curious, but as one example, she once chased Corey around his house with a butcher knife. After he jumped out a second floor balcony into the snow in his PJs to get away from her, she took her anger out on the microwave, stabbing it to death, rendering it useless. That, my friends, is just the tip of the iceberg. Once, she started a fight with me when I was 5 months pregnant with Callia and then wanted my aunt arrested for coming to my aid after she (my aunt) bent Gisella's arm back after she pushed her. When the police said she was the aggressor and I could have her arrested instead, she threw an absolute fit, demanding to know where her rights were. All this in front of the boys.

So, anyway, Corey and I fully intended to sue for custody whenever the time was right and she knew this. We just needed enough to prove her mental incapacity and the money to pay the attorney. Corey made no bones about telling her he wanted them and would get them. She even once told her sister she'd be stuck with Austin because he's autistic and would never say he wanted to live with dad, whereas Patrick and Shane, her third son (from her second ex-husband after Corey) would eventually say they wanted to live with their fathers. She's sick. So, when Callia was coming soon, she feared we would use our new family as cause to take the boys from her andshe cooked up a scheme to make sure that never happened. She implanted false memories of this alleged abuse into Patrick's head (remember Austin is autistic and can't dispute any of this) until he recited a story that would make your stomach turn. That's got to be the worst part of this all, that he actually believes this happened and is mad at Corey for not apologizing. (I'll get to that soon.)

The TRO said we couldn't make any attempt to contact or see her or the boys until a court hearing three weeks later. I remember being so sad at that time because I knew Callia was going to change so much in those three weeks and I wanted Patrick to see her. He was so excited about having a baby sister and he talked about it ALL the time. Once when I was about 18 weeks, he and I were talking about whether we thought it was a boy or a girl. Corey really wanted a girl and so did he. I said to him, why don't you ask her? So he put his mouth to my belly and said, "Are you a boy or a girl?" Well, (LOL) at that exact moment, my stomach growled - "Grr..." He looked up at me in shock and said "Her said it was a grrrl!!" It was SOO funny. I told him when we found out in October she would be coming sometime soon after he finished Kindergarten. After his last day, he came to my house asking where she was. I laughed and promised soon. In fact, the last time he was at my house (three days before she was born), I told him I had a feeling she would be there having dinner with us the following Friday night. Well, the following Friday night came and she was there, but they were not and have not been since. Had I known what the future held, I'd have been tickled pink to have him only wait three weeks to meet her.

On the day I brought Callia home from the hospital, Corey went to work for about 4:30. After getting her and I settled in at home, he was sad to leave, but we needed the money. My best friend, Danika, and her daughter were over when there was knock on the door. It was a DCYF investigator (Department of Chidlren Youth and Families, like CPS or DSS in other states). He, obviously, was coming to talk to Corey and me. He had been trying to contact us for several days and thought we were on to him and avoiding him before he finally found out we were at the hospital. Corey had just so happened to be home showering when the constable came and served him the TRO. He didn't even tell me about it until we left the hospital because he didn't want to upset me. Anyway, this CPI (child protective investigator) was a real jerk. He was at first suspicious of Corey being at work seeing as how we had just gotten home that day, but Danika piped in and said he had a family to support and bills to pay and needed to work (he was a food server at the time).

Anyway, CPI and I were out on the porch for like 45 minutes as he drilled me. Mind you this is our first day home and visitors are all on their way. He kept telling me to tell the truth and I'm a mom now and I need to think of my daughter and stop protecting my husband and so on and on. I swore Corey did nothing wrong and told him all about how Gisella is crazy and all that and he said, "Well, here's the thing. The boy says dad did it." So I told him it was obviously the mother and told him many examples of things Patrick has said she told him that were untrue. Then, I said to him, "My husband is innocent. I know it. I'd bet my newborn daughter on it." And that's when he hit me with the bomb. He said, "Well, it might just come to that," and handed me a piece of paper informing my that I was being investigated for child neglect on my TWO-DAY-OLD daughter because I was allowing her to be around a known child molestor, her own father!!! Imagine that?? I lost it then and the little jerk accused me of crying tears of guilt. The allegation also included my next-door-neighbor's son and daughter, except he doesn't have any kids! When the CPI saw my Danika's daughter, he thought maybe she was the other victim they couldn't find and started questioning her, asking things like how she felt about Corey and whether he touched her inappropriately. Danika was pissed that her daughter was being asked such questions and I couldn't stop crying over what was happening. Bringing Callia home was supposed to be a wonderful time for my family and instead it was one of the darkest days of my life. My whole family was over later that night and when they heard what was happening, they were all livid. It made Corey feel better to know they believed him and backed him because he was so afraid of people looking at him like a sick pedophile. My family knows the stuff Gisella has done and had no doubt she was behind the whole thing.

So, moving on and in an attempt to make a long story short, the case was closed after DCYF, the police and the AG's office all said either nothing happened or at the very least there wasn't sufficient evidence to back up the allegations. However, Gisella had filed a civil case against us in family court asking the Court permanently suspend Corey's visitation. After a hearing where we didn't even have to present our side, the judge threw the case out after her side rested. The judge said she suspected Gisella had cooked the whole thing up to get back at us for calling DCYF on her back in April 2004 (another long story) and she ordered Corey get his visits back. However, five months had passed at that time, so she ordered reunification therapy take place before we get them back. Gisella made this a very difficult process and it wasn’t until late February 2005 that Corey got to see Patrick. Over the course of the following three months, we saw Patrick a handful of times and Austin even less. Patrick was finally able to meet Callia when she was about 9 months old.

As tough as it was for us, we thought there was a light at the end of the tunnel and the boys would be home soon. But, as Gisella is mentally unstable, very difficult to reason with and just plain crazy, the first doctor doing the reunification quit. Her exact words to me were, “I cannot provide therapy to a child whose parent makes that therapy impossible to provide.” She agreed to stay on through May 17, 2005, but after that we had to find a new doctor. She also submitted a report to the Court at that time saying that while she DID NOT think Corey abused anyone (she even did a battery of tests on his psyche to rule out the possibility) she thought visitation resuming at that time wasn’t a good idea based solely on the fact Patrick now believed (another ploy of his mother’s) we were going to hit him and try to kidnap him. The first doctor stated she did not think we were a threat to the boys, but nonetheless Patrick needed more therapy to work out these issues before he could feel comfortable returning to our home.

Once again, Gisella dragged her feet and we didn’t have a new doctor on board until August 2005 – 14 months after the last time the boys were at my house and nearly nine months after the judge ruled we get them back on Dec. 1, 2004. And, once again, Gisella showed her true colors to the new doctor who told Corey more than once he didn’t think she was stable. After a few months of weekly (though there were a few skipped weeks) visits at the new doctor's office, Corey became increasingly agitated with the way things were going. Even though it seemed the doctor saw at least part of what was happening here, and also knew he had the full power of the court to decide how the therapy go and when the boys could come home, he seemed more interested in trying to please everyone, namely Gisella, stating he didn’t want to upset her. My husband told him several times he didn’t care how she reacted – let her throw a fit, he didn’t care. If she refused to go along with the docotor's orders, we’d simply take her back to court. However, the doctor wasn’t biting and continued to keep things status quo, other than to order we have supervised visits at the Children’s Museum with a social worker. One of the main reasons he gave was Patrick continued to say he didn’t want to come home and even though he believed us, he didn’t want to make Patrick uncomfortable. Also, he had been communicating with Patrick's therapist.

**My husband did not consent to her treating him and once we found out, she had already been for about two months (this was early 2005). We met with her and it did not go well. She seemed to believe Patrick and in our minds was therefore not providing him with the right therapy. We brought this up to our attorney, but he suggested we take it one step at a time and deal with the reunification first. By the time we brought it up again, he then said it was much too late to address it and as a result, Patrick continues to receive therapy from this women even though Corey doesn’t think it’s best for his son. **

Anyway, getting back to the doctor. The visits in his office were becoming pointless. No progress was being made and each week it was just an hour spent trying to convince Patrick to come home. Corey was becoming more and more discouraged and was tired of how things were going. He told Patrick and the doctor both several times he wasn’t going to keep coming back, but each week he would because he wanted to see Patrick. Finally, on Jan. 2, 2006 he told them both he started his new job the next day and would no longer be able to come to the docotor's office for 5 p.m. on Mondays. He told the doctor he would call him once he knew what his schedule would be like and when he finally did, the doctor never returned his calls. Also, at the time of the last visit, Corey had asked if we could take the visits with the social worker from the museum to our house. The social worker was willing to do this but the doctor said he didn’t think Gisella would agree to that. Once again, Corey said he didn’t care what she said so the doctor said he would talk to the therapist about it and that was the last we heard of it. We only visited with Patrick at the museum two or three times and as of today, we haven’t seen him since Jan. 2, 2006.

As for Austin, both doctors were uncomfortable “forcing” him in the room because of his autism and therefore Corey has only seen him three or four times and never for the full hour. As Corey became wrapped up in his new job, time quickly passed. We had a court hearing on March 8, 2006. At that time, Corey and I told our attorney what we’d like the judge to do is order visits in our home for dinner on Friday nights so Patrick could become reacclimated to our house and remember all the fun we used to have. It would be just a few hours and then once Corey's schedule lightened up after tax season, we would review the case and see about expanding our visits. We knew this hinged on the doctor's report. However, it didn’t go exactly how we planned. It said that while Patrick says he is afraid of us and of coming to our home, his actions speak much louder. He detailed how Patrick would literally run up the stairs to be with Corey, hugged and kissed him frequently and often sat on his lap with his arm around Corey's neck, nuzzling up to him. He said Corey should have supervised visits with the social worker and then basically wrote himself out. He said he didn’t think there was anything else he could do for Patrick and Corey. Now, if you read the report further and between the lines, he basically says Gisella is unstable and he thinks she’s behind everything and did say he thinks she’s been telling Patrick things to maintain a continued fear of coming home to us. Though my attorney argued against it, the judge basically took the report and made it the Court’s order. This made my husband extremely agitated for two reasons: 1) She ordered reunification therapy 15 months earlier (at that time). Corey had long since been reunited with the boys. He said he didn’t think the order was that every issue he had with the kids be resolved before they come home. Further, we both firmly believe the only way this will ever get better is for Patrick to come home and allow us to once again have a positive influence on him and try to counter all the things his mother tells him. How can we possibly get him to trust us again when she’s with him 24/7, brainwashing him against us?? 2) Corey does not want to, nor can we really afford, to spend MORE money on this. (At that time we had already paid over $8,000 in lawyer fees and had another $2,000 to go, not to mention other things like social worker and doctor co-pays.) I know it seems trivial and many parents would think their kids are worth any amount of money, but you have to understand how frustrated my husband was. He hadn’t just been fighting his ex since June 2004, but rather since they split in January 1999 when Patrick was just 5 months old and Austin was newly conceived. She has been making his life miserable ever since and he has fought HARD to see them. He was at the end of his proverbial rope and as much as he loves his sons, he didn't have much fight left in him. I talked to him about speaking with the therapist (since the doctor wrote himself out, we assume it would then be she who decides when the visits can go unsupervised) about doing it for just four weeks so Patrick could get used to coming here and then that’s it, but he'd say, “I know what’s going to happen. I’ll agree to do it for the four weeks and then it won’t change and I’ll be back to where I started.” He had become so jaded and didn’t believe things will ever go his way. He didn’t understand why everyone seems to recognize there’s an issue with Gisella's mental health, but didnn’t want to do anything about it.

Further, we learned the doctor was surprised when he heard how the judge treated his report. He told my attorney he was hoping she would read it and see what ex is about and give Corey back his visits. It seems he didn’t expect her to make it the Court’s order and our question, of course, is why make the suggestion then? It seemed everyone was passing the buck – the judge doesn’t want to make a decision so she takes the doctor’s report and makes it the order, meanwhile this surprises the doctor, saying he had hoped the judge would take some action.

Angry about the whole thing, Corey let several months pass before taking any action. Shortly after Kiefer was born last August, he decided to give it another go. We wanted to go forward with the supervised visits with the social worker, but since five more months had passed since the hearing in March, we had to go back to court. Since the system is so flipping slow, we didn't get in until November. At that time, the judge basically said since almost a year had passed since Corey last saw Patrick, reunification would have to start all over again and this time it was to be done through the therapist. She further ordered the therapist would decide how things would go from there.

So, Corey called her again and again. After playing phone tag for several week, he finally talked to her at the end December, perhaps early Jaunary and she told him point blank she talked to Patrick about seeing Corey and he told her he wasn't interested. (I should say, for the record, at this point Patrick is 8. He turns 9 Aug. 17.) She said he's still waiting for an apology and that is something Corey will not do. He feels it is an admission of guilt and just what Gisella is hoping for. He will not say sorry for something he did not do. The therapist said since Patrick was refusing to see Corey, she was not comfortable forcing him to and therefore would not do the reunification. Corey reminded her that it was court ordered and she said while she understood that, she did not feel it was ethical on her part to do it and refused. She said she would, however, talk to Patrick about it one more time at their next session and let Corey know how that went. We never heard back from her, even though he called her a couple of times. That was almost six months ago and that was the final straw for him. He decided to just give up the fight for now and is hoping there will come a day when Patrick sees his mother for who she really is and comes around asking questions. We are anxious for that day to come and at the same time have no idea how to explain things to him without him thinking his father walked away from him. Corey knows the emotional toll the whole ordeal has taken on him and decided he couldn't do it anymore. Fighting against a crazy person is fruitless and he has other children he needs to try and be emotionally available to (not to mention the money we DON'T have that it'd cost us to keep fighting this). I know it was hard for Corey to make this decision, and there are times when I consider brigning it up and fighting again, but in the end, it just leads to more heartache.

In the meantime, my family is suffering. My stepsons are in a home, I believe with my whole heart and soul, is emotionally unstable and abusive and have virtually no relationship with their father. My children have no idea who their brothers are. My husband is has given up on them out of sheer frustration, hurt and anger. He can’t even look at their pictures and becomes very upset when the subject comes up, often refusing to talk about it. What’s more, he’s afraid if they were to come home, there would be some other cooked up allegation and he would then lose our kids, too. Callia was his saving grace when this all happened and God help him if he ever lost her. As much as he loves his boys, he feels at times it’s better to cut his losses now before he loses all four(well, now almost five) of them. He feels there isn’t anything else our lawyer can do for us and has been hesitant to do anything about things as they are today.

As for me, I miss my stepsons terribly and used to cry at least once a week for them (it used to be even more, but time hardens your heart). I think of how much we are missing and have already missed and it breaks my heart. Further, it’s not just us who miss them, but both my family and Corey's. My parents were very close to the boys, who called them Gramma Donna and Grampa (they knew no other grandfather as her father died and Corey hasn’t much of a relationship with his). We also have friends who loved them and miss them greatly. It’s been a tough situation for not just Corey, the kids and me, but our friends and family as well. Corey's mother hasn’t seen her grandsons in three years and prior to his death in November 2005, Corey's grandfather had been repeatedly asking to see them. He never got the chance.

While it's hard to think of the boys and not feel like giving it ANOTHER go, quite frankly, I don't blame Corey. He's been through so much and he's so afraid of losing our kids. And even though these boys have suffered so much already and it breaks my heart to think what will come of them if they remain under their mother's influence without Corey and I around to counter any damage she's done, we are both just at the end of our rope with all of this. It's just so darn sad.

As I'm sure you can imagine, there are are many more details, but I tried to keep it brief (if you'll believe that). Some time soon I will write a bit more about the boys and some of the happier times we shared with them. If you managed to get all the way through this, a BIG, FAT THANKS! I am sure that was tough. HUGS!

Edited to add: I recognize there are several typos, but I am not up for fixing them all. Some English teacher I'll make, huh? :P

My very first blog post...

2007-06-27T13:01:00.000-04:00

So who knows if this whole blog thing will go anywhere. People who know me, know I have A LOT to say, but putting it out there for everyone to read? Not sure how I feel about that just yet. I know a lot of it I'll be ok with, but some of the honesty I've seen in other blogs is not something I am sure I am capable of. I guess only time will tell.

When thinking about creating my own blog, I realize the main reason I want to do so is for and because of my stepsons, Patrick and Austin. There's a really long story attached to that, and I will most definitely write all about it soon enough, but for right now, I just want to talk about why they are my inspiration. It's been three years since these boys have been to my house, thanks to their crazy mother and her wild accusations. There certainly will come a day when Patrick, at the very least (Austin is autistic), will come around and start asking questions. I had written a bunch of letters to him in the past, but they all got lost on the laptop when it fried. Since then, I've not written much because, as sad as it sounds, time has hardened me. I just don't care quite as much as I had. However, I do think this blog and my desire to write it because of them, says something about my true inner feelings. I guess I care more than I let on.

Also, I have my own kids now and I want to A) brag shamelessly about them, B) have stories about them for Patrick to read when he does come around and C) brag shamelessly about them.

Callia, my sweet, sweet Callia, turns 3 in just two days. I can hardly stand it. Where did the time go? What a precious gift she was, my first-born. I'll save my "Ode to Callia" for her birthday on Friday.

Then there's Kiefer. My boy. My little mama's boy. Heh, heh. So different from Callia. She was so happy and easy going as a baby. Not this one. I swear he's not happy unless he's rammed up my butt or snuggled tightly under my t-shirt. Drives me crazy the way he's so needy, but I love him all the same and am totally enjoying his first year of life. (He turns 1 August 1. )

Then...drumroll please...there's Cadence. This little bun in the oven that seems to have a penchant for resting right along my bladder. I've yet to meet this little lady that's been renting my uterus the last nine month, but can someone say, "Eighteen more days!!" That's right, 18 more days, ok, 20 (I guess I should wait until get home) until I can suck back a large and heavy gin and tonic. Don't worry, Corey, my (insert adjective of choice here as for me it really depends on the day and mood I am in) husband, has already been forewarned: he will be taking over all parenting duties.

See, this is what I am uneasy of. I am kidding, sort of, about the drinking. I DO intend to have a few drinks after she comes, but COME ON! It won't be THE DAY we get home. And yet, I feel the need to explain myself lest I be judged and criticized for neglecting my newborn in order to get a MUCH NEEDED buzz. I am not one who likes to get drunk and rarely do I even when I not playing landlady with my body, but man, OH MAN! These kids (Corey included) have been making me crazy these past few months and I am really looking forward to just relaxing with a nice cold one and passing out ON MY STOMACH!

Speaking of Corey. What a man. Lord only knows how much I love him. I say that because I don't even think he knows. I mean, I know he knows I love him, but sometimes he wonders how much and if I still love him as I did when we first fell in love eight years ago. "You used to be all about me," he said a few weeks ago. Yeah, well, life used to only BE all about you. Marriage, money, careers, children, crazy ex-wives, they all play a part here and while I might not show it like I used to, I still love him all with all my heart. More now than ever. It doesn't help that I am NINE-MONTHS-PREGNANT and super cranky. But, let me state something here for the record: this man...this man who drives me mad with fury at times, who cooks me amazing dinners, who just cannot seem to put his plate in the sink after we're finished eating said dinners, who makes me laugh harder than anyone else I know, this man is my life. He is a great father, hard worker and fabulous life partner. He pisses me off at times, but I'd be lying if I didn't ackowledge just how lucky I am to have found him. So, while I might complain about him once in a while and share things he does to get under my skin, remember how truly wonderful he is and how lost I'd be without him.

Oh, I guess I should tell you a smidge about me. I'm 31 (ACK!), love being a mom as much as it makes me want to pull off my fingernails one by one at times and will one day teach high school English. I have two degrees (BAs in English and journalism) and currently do some freelance writing and editing from home. Besides my family and writing, I love football (GO PATS!), music and...boy, I am pretty boring if that is all I can come up with.

Ah, well...until next time.