A Very Belated Birthday Post

Emerald's birthday was almost two months ago, which means that it is probably past time that I write about the party we threw for her!

This was her fourth birthday--I can't believe that she is growing up so fast. I love having parties for the kids just because it is so much fun to see how happy they are having a day that is all about them, and because I like to celebrate making it another year. Some days it just doesn't feel like we'll make it!!

Flashback: Emerald's first birthday was pretty much theme-less. I was broke and couldn't do much, but besides that all of Lubbock was flooded that day, so getting to the store for last minute shopping was all but impossible. She and I made a confetti cake together, and we had Disney Princess plates and napkins and stuff. My family wasn't able to make it because of the weather, but Ken and Rhonda and the Weems were there, and all in all, it was a great birthday. I remember that my mom made Emerald a chocolate brown dress with pink polka dots and a big cupcake on the chest to wear. I still have that dress stored =)

Her second birthday party was the one that the whole family got to come to (I think. It was either that one or the next). I made it Hello Kitty because Princess Hello Kitty was her favorite movie at the time, and I didn't know enough to vary up the colors so the dining room at Rhonda's house was an explosion of pink. It was intense.

The third birthday I did Dora the Explorer which turned out pretty well, as I think. It was mostly purple and orange.

After all those super girly birthday parties, I think she was ready for something different!!

As I said before, Emerald was insistent that she wanted a Captain America birthday party. I think Michael was proud enough to burst--he is a big comic fan, especially of Steve Rogers =) Honestly, I had it in my head that we were going to have a Tinkerbell Tea Party, and even tried to sway her toward it; but she had her little heart set on the First Avenger, and I didn't want to disappoint her.

It actually turned out much simpler than I had thought--there are tons of patriotic decorations that fit into the theme really easily. Anything we couldn't find with stars or stripes, we just had to pick red, white, or blue! Also because of the recent Captain America movie, bakeries were stocking Cap cakes as well.

I had wanted to get everything for the party before the baby was born so that I wouldn't have to do it after he got here, but there was just so, so much to do before hand that I couldn't manage. For inspiration, I kept Emerald talking about her party as much as possible. She actually had some great ideas.

Thus far with the kids, I have only done cupcakes and drinks or occasionally finger food at their birthday parties. Just cuts down on stress. We had been planning on that until Emerald asked for hot dogs. Hot dogs? ....sure, we can do hot dogs. I mean, how easy is that? Granted, I hate hot dogs...but it's not my birthday party!

For a little variety, my mom made a big pot of chili for the hot dogs, and we also provided Samuel Adam's soaked bratwurst, as well as chips. I like brats, so that was good for me. We had a cupcake cake--half vanilla, half chocolate as usual--with a figurine that spun on a base. Emerald thought that was pretty neat. The only downside of the cake was that there were 30 cupcakes, so we had tons left over.

Like we do every year, we had it at Rhonda's house. My parents were able to be there, but little Andrew was sick so Jarrod and Julia couldn't come. Ken had come back into town from work, so he was able to come as well. Besides that, Grannymom and DadDad and Rhonda were also there, and of course Michael, Gabriel, Benjamin, and myself were able to make it.

Besides family, we also had David and Beth, which meant a lot to me because Beth was feeling particularly crummy that day and had to go to the doctor the next day, but she still came anyway =) Sara was there as well--I love Miss Sara!

Forgive my fuzzy memory; I am still in a sleepy baby-haze, so I don't exactly remember everything she got and I don't think I will try. At any rate, she loved her many presents, and was thrilled overall with her Captain America birthday party!!

--Andie!--

Complaints and Grievances

As I said in the last post, our little family has been going through some difficult patches lately. So this post is to help me get all the grumpies out.

As good of a starting point as anywhere, I will lead with my darling eldest, Emerald.

Sometimes, when a new baby is introduced into the family, an older child will regress because of the stress and in an attempt to attract more attention.

Other times when a child goes through a personally traumatic experience, they will lose progress or skills as a coping mechanism.

At the end of August and beginning of September unfortunately, Emerald was subjected to both. Benjamin was born in the first week of September, right after Emerald was painfully, miserably constipated.

Oh, yes: this story is about dookie. If I have to deal with it, so do you. :p

Early in August we had finally turned a corner. Emerald's potty training had been an odyssey, with lots of frustration on both our parts, but we had finally gotten there. We could take her into public without a pull-up on, she was hardly (if ever) having accidents, and she was staying dry overnight. I was elated.

Then it seemed like she lost all her progress overnight. This wasn't the occasional lapse--this was completely resetting the game and starting at square one. I have never felt so deflated in my life. I felt like a failure. And it has been so discouraging to have to start over all over again, for both of us.

Now, it is two months later and this is still a daily challenge. Some days we have good days--no or few accidents, no power struggle just to get her into the bathroom...some days are not so good, where we have to change her six or more times and there is a screaming tantrum anytime we mention the potty; lots of short tempers and frustration all around. The doctor prescribed something for her, but it has not helped because it doesn't address any of the emotional distress that is causing such problems...this in and of itself has been very hard on the whole family.

Of course the potty issues are not the only ones plaguing Emerald right now--her stress level is high and so her behavior at home and at school as severely deteriorated. Her teachers no longer tell me what a joy she is to have in class, but that she was disrespectful, disruptive, rude. At home she argues, talks back, whines, screeches in our faces. She lies, makes up stories about how mean everyone is to her or what she has been doing.

I understand that this is not that uncommon in a four-year old girl and that she is just exerting her independence and that she will grow out of it...but I would be kidding myself if I pretended that any of that was a comfort. She's my little girl--my only girl--and it hurts me that we are at odds so often.

Gabriel is next, I suppose. Nothing new is really going on there, just the same struggles with communication and general development and sensory troubles. He is having trouble sleeping again. We had finally gotten the little guy putting himself to sleep and sleeping through the night in his own bed. Now he has moved into a bit of insomnia, waking up and unable to put himself back to sleep for hours afterwards. He attempts to use his babbles and grunts to express something to us, but it just causes him to dissolve into tears when he realizes that we do not understand him.

He is also attempting to become more self-reliant as he has lost patience with trying to get what he wants out of us. For example, before he would go and get a sippy cup to bring to me when he was thirsty. He would sign more or please and insist until I got him something. Now, he gets into the fridge and grabs the gallon of milk or a carton of eggs. We tried putting a lock on the fridge, so he broke the handle so the lock wouldn't work. We put up barriers on either side of the kitchen so he would be barred out; he scaled the barriers and persisted in his thievery.

You get the idea.

So, Emerald has become a full-time job in and of herself and Gabriel has progressed to needing unwavering and constant monitoring. Because heavens forbid I try and nurse Benjamin or help Emerald to the restroom or cook a meal--that little boy that is sitting quietly looking at his book when I get up will be in the dining room smashing my figurines or standing on the kitchen counter before my back is turned.

ONCE AGAIN, of course I know that my mother at least is laughing because this is how boys behave! Why should I be surprised that Gabriel is acting like a BOY?!

Well because it is exhausting and time-consuming and something that under normal circumstances I would be able to handle, no problem, but please now recall that I am putting Emerald in time-out or on the potty every 30 minutes, searching her room for hidden accidents, and doing load after load (bad phrasing, I know) of laundry trying to keep up with how fast she is messing them.

And Benjamin? What's that sweet little lumpling's problem?

He's a NEWBORN!!

He is, by the very definition, exhausting. And time-consuming. Each baby is different, but this one is painfully gassy and incredibly clear and alert, meaning that he is up all hours of the day and night. Not to mention that he is just a vocal child, meaning that any discomfort he is not shy from voicing. It is not uncommon for me to have to carry him around for hours, walking and bouncing him and trying to clean and take care of the kids and cook one handed.

Now, everyone will point out that I should have waited; had my kids further apart so that I could handle each trial as it arises. Or maybe had less children all together. But this way, I am getting all of this sleepless nights and diapers/potty-training and everything all out of the way at once. Is it the life for everyone? No, and I can respect that. But this is the way I prefer to have done it. So for today, I am going to complain and bitch and moan and keep trudging through with the rosy future of poop no longer being a daily conversation and sleeping through the night is commonplace just on the horizon =)

-Andie!-

Catching Up

I haven't written in a long time. Well, relatively a long time--I went from several updates every day to silence, which of course people tell me is only natural after having a new baby. But every day I have wanted to write, I have thought of the blog...I just didn't know what to say.

Being ungrateful is kind of the American way. We are spoiled, unapologetically and shamelessly; that is not news. But the truth of the matter was, everything that I could have talked about seemed frivolous and whiny and ungrateful.

A friend from high school recently lost his five day old, first-born baby girl. We all followed along as he chronicled the painful journey, from discovering there was something amiss with the fetus through the birth and eventually, to the last moments of her precious little life. My heart ached for him. And as self-centered as it sounds, every time I attempted to sit down and write about the comings and goings of the Wearden family, I thought about how he would have thanked God for the chance to go through the struggles that have left me feeling so defeated lately.

I realize that my children are gifts--beautiful, wonderful presents from God to me and Michael, to enrich our lives and to give us purpose. But sometimes, when I am in the trenches and feel like all I have left in me is to keep holding on and hoping things get better, it is hard to cling to that mentality. It is hard for me to celebrate every day that I get with my little darlings because I feel like tearing out my hair, banging my head against the wall, or just break down and cry.

Of course, I recognize that this is just the learning curve. We are all getting used to the big change that occurred in our family. And my current hormonal state and entire lack of sleep has left me less than sane. But I have come to realize that neglecting to keep this history of our little family because of guilt serves no purpose except to lose our own stories of triumphs and failures, no matter how mundane and ordinary they seem.

All of this rambling and carrying on is to say: I'm back. I'm not going to always want to write a glowing post of adoration for my precious and well-behaved little children because honestly sometimes they seem more like little hellion brats. Here, on our Wearden family blog, I will do what I have always done--write what is on my heart and on my mind, and keep the stories of our journey.

So! Get excited people--Andie's back!

~Andie~

Hospital Stay: First Day

Now that the drug induced haze has lifted, I will attempt a clear-headed recounting of the first day of the hospital--the birth, the visitors, etc.

For some reason, I decided to get dressed up to go to the hospital. Part of it was because pants were officially no longer comfortable to wear as they were all too tight, and my sun dress was much more accommodating. Because the c-section was scheduled for 9 am, Michael and I needed to be up there no later than 7 to get all the prep stuff done. Pre-registration is done over the phone several days before, so I didn't have to worry about that, but even so I had to sign a lot of paperwork.

My mom and dad had arrived late the night before--about 11--so they woke and dressed the kids and brought them up to the hospital a little closer to the time of the birth. Because I am overly controlling, I had packed the diaper bag, the fun bag, and set out the clothes that I wanted the kids to wear so that Mom wouldn't have to track all that stuff down.

I was feeling pretty good when we got there. It was a lovely day, and I love early morning, even if I am super cranky britches. Michael would be able to be there either way because the dealership is not open on Sunday mornings, and the pregnancy that had been so trying was finally coming to an end. There were no nerves, no worry, just calm. At my last Dr. Killeen appointment, we had discussed the possibility that Michael would be able to come back while I had the spinal and be with me, and Dr. Killeen had been supportive of it.

There were three nurses helping me get ready, which was kind of weird. Maybe it was just a slow day because it was a Sunday. I know from asking that there was one other woman that went into labor and delivered that day, and that another woman had an emergency c-section, but we were the only ones to have babies that day, so there were only 3 little babies (including our Benjamin) in the nursery.

From past hospital experiences, I know that I have curvy, "valve-y" blood vessels, whatever the heck that could mean, so IV's tend to be a little difficult to place. One nurse tried to put it on the back of my left arm near my wrist (what I assume is the traditional place to put it) after I had informed her of my apprehension. It slid in easily enough and it looked like it would take, but it became apparent after a moment that it had not taken. Instead of doing the decent thing and removing the needle to try again, she adapted a look of consternation, and proceeds to press down on the needle, allowing the saline solution from the IV to pump into my arm and swell up. Hurt really badly, made me kind of mad, but I wasn't going to let it get to me. The other nurse took her time and found a good vein...on the back of my dominant hand. Which, since she got it in on her first try, I was not going to complain.

Rhonda and Ken, and then my parents with Emerald and Gabriel, arrived to see us before the surgery began. The nurse loaded me up in the big ol' wheelchair, and we started down the hall...

...and I start to panic again. I am shivering from head to foot from the cold, I am sick to my stomach, and right here, right now is the very last place I want to be in the entire world.

Michael noted that it was interesting that I got freaked out before I had Gabriel and Benjamin, but I was calm and collected when I had Emerald. I think that may have been knowing versus not knowing--with Emerald, I didn't know what to expect, so I had no reason to be nervous. Each time I went in with the boys, I knew exactly how it was going to go, how the healing was going to be...I think I made it scarier than it was.

Michael talked quietly to me, stroked my hair, calmed me...I think I was afraid until the moment that we were back there that they weren't going to actually let Michael be with me. The anesthesiologist came out to talk to us, and it was his decision whether Michael would or would not be allowed to stay with me, which I thought was kind of interesting. Dr. Killeen was the leading surgeon in this situation, so you would think that he would be the one to make that call, but they let the man administering the spinal decide whether or not he wants spousal observation. He asked Mike if he passed out at the sight of blood or needles, and I wanted to laugh because Michael was about to go back and watch them slice me in half, stick a hand in the wound, and pull out his son...if that didn't make him pass out, why on earth would a little needle stick in my back rattle him?

The spinal is kind of scary: the anesthesiologist puts me on a big T-shaped table, makes me curl my spine toward him...they always say it's like an angry cat arching its back. Anyways, they poke around on my back for a bit looking for a good spot to stick a ridiculously big (but thin) needle, clean it three times with solution I am certain they are storing in the fridge, then I get the "bee sting"--the shot that numbs the area, but for some reason burns like heck going in. You feel the pressure of the big hollow needle go in, and almost immediately, your legs become very warm and heavy (if the spinal is intended for pain management, I assume--I don't know how it would be for the diagnostic test). Before you are unable to move your legs, they assist you to lay back, and then they handle all the catheter placement and stuff like that while you slowly become warmer and number.

As soon as my legs became warm, I started to relax. I had warned the doctor that I had freaked out last time I had a c-section, so he had something for anxiety on stand-by in case I needed it, but warned me that if he did have to administer it, I would not remember (or possibly not be awake for) the birth of my son. He ended up not having to give me anything because I was very relaxed after that point.

You really don't go entirely unfeeling. I wonder if it is even possible without them paralyzing you for you to feel absolutely nothing. But what you feel is that something is going on--it doesn't hurt, you are just aware of the fact that someone is touching you. It all went very quickly--I felt them cleaning the skin, a slight tugging near my hips where I assume they were cutting into me, and then great pressure near my ribs. They were pushing and pulling little Benjamin out of my tummy!!

Babies are gross when they first come out. Benjamin was the first yicky baby I had seen--Emerald and Gabriel I didn't see until they were clean and wrapped in a blanket. I can't even remember if they let me nuzzle and kiss Gabriel before they took him away, and since they didn't get pictures of that birth, I can't go back and see.

One of the nurses said "where was she hiding this baby?" and I immediately grew concerned that I was having just a ridiculously ginormous baby, but I heard them call out the weight at 7 lbs, 14 ozs. A little bigger than I had originally been expecting but not unreal. It sort of explains how uncomfortable I was with him in there, and even though he was not born vaginally he still had some coning to his head because he was smooshed so far down in my pelvis for so long. Not much--he didn't look completely alien baby--but not the perfectly round skull of many c-section babies.

They cleaned up the little fella, gave him the vitamin K shot, measured him, got his APGAR scores (9 and 9--practically perfect) and then we got some family bonding time. They let us keep him longer than either of the other two kids; I asked Mike later, and he agreed that we were allowed more this time around. I remember looking at my baby and consciously thinking that they may have given me the wrong baby. Logically I knew that I was the only woman giving birth in the room, and that he was the only baby in the room, but I could not for the life of me figure out why he was so big. Plus, Emerald and Gabriel had looked exactly alike when born with the only difference being the hue of the peach fuzz atop their heads, but this little fella looked completely different. For one thing, he had a lot of dark hair when both the others had been born bald.

Once they got him closer to me, I realized how much of Michael I could see in him. He was a beautiful, perfect little boy and I was so excited to meet him. Michael whispered "Are you sure about the name?" and when I agreed, we officially "met" Benjamin Reilly.

By this time, I was feeling very exhausted and was beginning to drift in and out of sleep. Luckily it was time for Michael to wheel the baby away to meet the family and for me to start going it alone. I felt completely confident and fine with that as soon as I had seen my baby was healthy and happy and safe. Thus began the exhausting process of stitching me back together.

I slept in a way that I was dozing, but still aware of what was happening around me. They were concerned there was a problem with my bladder, so they apparently inflated it with water and drained it...it was fine, I don't know what they thought they saw. Glad they tried to fix it before stitching me up and leaving it for the next guy though. Dr. Killeen talked about my tattoo. Apparently, he had been under the impression that it was a buffalo, even to the point of remembering that Michael was from Colorado and assuming that I had gotten it for the CU Buffs, but I laughingly told him it was an orange bull. He thinks I'm weird for getting it. Admittedly, I am a little odd for that decision, but I don't regret it.

It felt like it took a lot longer for them to finish stitching me up than normal, and it was confirmed when Dr. Killeen came to talk to me after it was over--he said that my uterus was abnormally thinned from so many pregnancies and c-sections in such a relatively short amount of time. It was taking its toll on me, and he recommended waiting several years before attempting to get pregnant again, though I still probably should leave it at this. Looks like I am a three-kid woman. We discussed birth control options, which Mike and I have been waffling back and forth over for six months now, but for the first time, Dr. Killeen mentions an option that seems quite viable for us--Implanon, the arm implant.

He left and I was wheeled to recovery where they monitored my blood pressure, heart rate, oxygenation, and pressed on my stomach to promote uterine contractions. The nurse had to come and go a bit because there was an emergency c-section across the hall from me and they needed her help a little. But that was okay, I don't really like people hovering around me. I usually use that time to nap and to wiggle my feet to see exactly when I have mobility again. I was back there for longer than usual though because they were letting me rest, but they didn't tell Michael everything was fine so the longer stitching time plus the extended recovery equaled an unsettled Michael waiting for me to come back.

Everyone was laughing at me when I came back, and I didn't know why--even Michael looked baffled--but he explained it later...normally, around people I am reserved a little standoff-ish; the bouncy, bubbly, affectionate part of me only shown in isolated incidents to all but Mike. So my behavior was absolutely normal for him, but must have been bizarre to everyone else, lol.

For the rest of the day I was on a liquid diet--just juices, water, and broths at first, though by dinner time they were allowing me "full liquid" which meant tasty cream of chicken soup. For the most part I was confined to the bed with these circulation-promoting stockings (dead sexy, lemme tell ya) on as well as a machine that squeezed my calves every few minutes to keep the blood pumping. I handled those pretty well until the middle of the night--I was supposed to have them taken off at 5 am, but they got hot and itchy and miserable, so I sweet talked the nurse into taking them off a couple hours early. She even helped me walk around the halls that first day with lots of support. She was a very nice nurse.

My parents stayed at the house with Emerald and Gabriel which meant that Michael was able to stay at the hospital with me, lucky guy. He had to sleep on this narrow little couch, but he claims he had more room on that than he did at home with a big pregnant wife and toddler hogging the whole bed. That first night, they come in every hour to give me medicine and check on me, rub my tummy, stuff like that. They want you to rest, but that is super absurd since they are poking and prodding you so often.

So that is what I remember from that first day. Hopefully soon I will be able to recall the subsequent two days and make a record of that, but Emerald is currently sitting in time alternating between screaming and singing "goodbye..." in the saddest voice she can imagine. Sort of distracting!!

--Andie--

Emerald-isms, Sept 15

The blog is sadly in need of many updates, but this may be all I can manage for right now--here is another installment of adorable/sweet/funny quotes from my goofy, darling daughter. =)

* Uhh, mom? Benjamin is chewing on your boob... (when I was nursing)

* Can this baby be a girl baby? He can wear lip gloss and we can call him Ellie, so he be my sister.

* There are five Wearden's. 3 boy Wearden's (points to Gabriel, Benjamin, and Michael), and TEN girl Wearden's.

*I slept horribly last night and ended up sleeping in until nearly 10 with Gabe. When I woke up, Emerald was still sweetly lying in bed--who knows how long she had been awake, just laying there. I told her I was sorry, and she snuggled next to me and said "It's okay, mommy--you were very sleepy"

*We had to do finger pricks to test iron levels today--Emerald went before Gabriel, so we were trying to get her to reassure him...she goes "Don't worry, Gaby--it doesn't hurt so bad", then looks at me and says "ow ow ow! It hurts, mommy!!"

*I was emptying the vacuum when Emerald said "thank you to vacuuming, mommy--the ducks {dust} makes me cough, see? -cough cough-"

*Emerald was clutching her stomach in pain, so I told her to try and go potty. Her response: the poo-poo is sleeping in my butt, let's leave it alone for now"

* Pawpaw not at his house; he flew away in a big white airplane. But he come back soon--he forgot Glo here.

* (during prayer) Dear God, please bring Oma back home. It's getting dark and it's time for bed...

* I was taking the fabric covers off the glider so I could toss them in the wash. Emerald adopts a very serious face and says "Mommy, we don't tear up the furniture".

* Me: Emerald, are you supposed to be doing that?

Emerald: We not talking about me, we talking about you.

* My mom's dog passed away recently. Emerald told me one night, " Mama, I need to go to Oma's house. She dying of a broken heart and needs a friend"

* If you don't wash the dirty, nasty dishes, do we not get lunch? (:-/ can the commentary, little girl!)

* When I grow up, I gonna be a real pirate. I just gotta get a real pirate ship.

* Mama, what happened to the clouds? Clouds is white, not brown....(welcome to Lubbock, dear heart--that is a dust storm, lol)