Surviving Sunday

Our church meetings last three hours. Only the last hour is together with the whole family. I dread this time together. Something that is meant to be spiritually fulfilling leaves me completely drained, tired and grouchy. I chase children, bounce children, scold, hold, rock and threaten children.

Kate can't sit next to me because she tries to "claim" me and starts a pushing match with any sibling that touches me. Ean does the same and heaven forbid if I have both Ean and Kate touching me because the whines from them as they push and shove can be heard echoing about the chapel. Of course Ean objects to the twins on me and the twins object to sharing the parent their with. And it's always two twins picking one parent. They won't split up because that makes to much sense.

Some parents bring snacks, I find it causes more problems then it solves because there's fighting over snacks and a mess to clean up. I also don't feel it's very respectful to leave goldfish crumbs in the pew.

Sooooooo what's my worst nightmare? Kent talking and sitting up on the stand so I have all the kids. Luckily for me I have good friends at church. I was able to borrow some teenagers and another friend to help with the kids. I also broke my no food rule and brought pretzels and goldfish, carefully divided into five baggies one for each kid. Sometimes I feel so dumb, I totally forget the extra child (my ten year olds best friend) that comes to church with us, so I had nothing for her.

My friend, whose a little older then I am, sat with Ean. At first Ean thought this would be torture. He yelled NO in the chapel when I suggested sitting with Lori. He quickly changed his mind when he realized he could have the full attention of an adult with competition! WOOT! One down!

I gave Kate to one of the teenagers. Since Kate is one of my biggest instigators, having her occupied was crucial. It worked beautifully, Kate also felt extra special having a friend during the meeting. So my biggest challenges were taken care of. That left two ten year old girls. Well, Two chatty girls *eye roll* and the twins.

I was hoping by giving a treat bag to the remaining teenager, she could bribe one of the twins into liking her. They're to smart for that. Dave gladly took her treats and ran back to me. Jane tried to help and those were the most disruptive times of the service. Next time, She's not sitting next to me either!

All in all we survived. And oddly enough I opted to skip Stake conference the following week because I had no desire to wrestle the kids through a two hour meeting!

Nicknames, sayings and made up words

My mom has new nicknames for the twins. It's *hold onto your hats* metal mouth and gap face in honor of their recent dental work. I can't see those sticking but yesterday it was funny and heaven knows we both needed the chuckle.

I tend to call the littles odd things like mookie, sweetpea and munchkin. I can't help it, they tend to slip out. I also have the usual repertoire of honey and sweetie pie.

My husband hates nicknames, so much so that he insisted our kids couldn't have names that could be shortened. So we have girls named Jane and Kate yet nicknames happen even with the shortest of names. Janie just slips out of my lips, an affectionate term for my eldest when she's having a bad day and she needs to hear a little extra love in my voice. Kate is cursed with a name that people assume is a nickname so she's doomed to a lifetime of people questioning what Kate actually stands for.

Everyone assumes that Greg is short for Gregory and I'm forever correcting medical records. Really, the child's name is Greg Walter ****. Gregory isn't his name! I find it vastly amusing that more confusion was caused by my hubs trying to simplify his son's name.

During my exchange people called me Elisabeth (the Swedish version of Elizabeth) because Lisa is a nickname reserved for only close family and friends. People didn't want to be presumptuous and call me such a familiar name after just meeting me. Actually I have a certificate for my study of the Old Testament made out to Elisabeth Rush. That's pretty funny since that person doesn't exist.

Speaking of not existing, Jane's birth certificate had several typo's in it saying her mom was a Lisa Bush from Utah. I know that UT and VT are close but is it that hard to get the state abbreviations right? Really, it's rather funny. We have since corrected that info but we kept the certificate with the wrong information in it so we have proof it happened.

Now David, obviously can be shortened. You see since we were pregnant with twins we each picked a name and David was my choice and I cheerfully call him whatever I feel like calling him be it Dave, Davey or David. When he's old enough to express an opinion then I'll respectfully call him what he prefers. Until then *evil laugh* it's whatever the mood hits.

My newest name for Kate is actually Katie P. I don't have a reason why other then it sounds kinda cool. P is Kate's middle initial so really there's nothing there will embarrass her when she's dating. It's not like when she was a twenty pound six month old baby with rolls everywhere and my dad called her Katie the hutt. That's one that should be saved for prom night, but really I don't want it to haunt her entire life. Another fitting title for Miss Kate is The Queen of Protest. This came from a dear friend of mine and it still fits Katie P. to a T.

Kent's been calling Ean Ean the Wean and that one is just kinda weird, not to mention Ean hates it.

My dad was a champ at nicknames and nonsense words. I vividly remember hear my dad answering the phone with "How is my mommy nini noo noo." The pitch of his voice would change when he said it too, something special he only used on my grandma. He had a saying he used only for his sister too but what I really remember is the nonsense words. Made up words that only the family could understand. Anyone in my family utters the word guish and we all understand that to mean the squishy belly fat that jiggles when you poke it. It's a great word, just rolls off the tongue. There were other words too, stuff he said to refer to the pets, people, nature. It was a talent.

I believe he would have approved of mom calling the twins metal mouth and gap face. I did.

I love our backyard

Our backyard is enclosed with a fence that can't be seen by the street. I allow my small children to roam, play and explore without fear for their safety. We have a swing set, a tramp and a big ol tire with sand in it. What more could a kid want?

Well the older kids apparently want bikes, scooters and freedom to roam the neighborhood. They bounce back and forth between back and front twenty or so times in an afternoon. This wasn't ever a problem before but apparently it's a problem now because the gate is getting left open. Usually we can tell because our big beastie dog is out front greeting all his furry friends with plenty of tail wagging and butt sniffing.

Today, I found out because someone in the neighborhood gave me a call to let me know my twins were a full block away from my house. With a quick goodbye and a run with no shoes I started out the door. I ran fast and for someone as out of shape as I am, that's saying something. Unfortunately I was so upset, I ran the wrong direction.

When I reached the corner, I looked frantically and realized I was at the wrong street.

*sigh*

So panting and limping (bare feet remember) I went the other direction. Fortunately a good Samaritan had picked the boys and their dump truck up and was looking for us. Thankfully they had enough sense to stay together and no one hit them.

So I just called my husband to let him know we need a lock on the gate tonight! We have our electric meter in the back so it'll be a pain once a month to have to go unlock the gate but for the peace of mind knowing I can let littles play in the back yard, it's worth the teensy hassle of letting the meter reader in.

My heart is still beating and it's not because I'm out of breath.

David's oral surgery.

Alright, as posted, we had to be there at six am. I woke up Dave just a touch before 5:30 and he was ticked at me. Thankfully I didn't wake up Greg in the process or grab Greg by mistake. They sleep in separate cribs but we've been known to accidentally mix up them up at bedtime finding them in the wrong beds the next morning.

I was completely ready and all I needed to do was change Dave's diaper and go out the door. Dave started to howl. I mean, he was sound asleep, exhausted still, woke up, not nursed and comforted just taken to the car and dumped into his car seat, without his twin.

Unfair!!

Once we started driving he did much better. He liked the motion of the car and surprisingly he stayed awake the whole way. He whined and fussed once we got there.

Here's where it got awkward. It was six am, and Dave couldn't eat or drink. We had to wait for about a half hour before being taken back to the prep room. A family came in with three kids in pajamas. Obviously multiple kids were having something done, I found out later the two oldest were having tubes put in their ears and adenoids taken out. The baby was suppose to have tubes put in too but his procedure was cancelled because he was sick, so his mom was giving him a bottle in the waiting room.

Uh, my two year old doesn't understand he's not eating or drinking and if he saw the bottle it possibly could have made things very difficult. He does steal his cousins bottle, he knows what they are. Luckily, I was the first one in the waiting room so I turned the tv to an obnoxious kid show and had Dave positioned straight towards the tv, with the bottle baby behind us.

This family was also in the prep room across from us (ugh!) so I had to be uber careful about him not seeing a bottle. Thankfully Dave never decided he needed to nurse. If he had, it would have been a miserable wait for both of us, with lots of shirt pulling but he was so paranoid of the nurses and trying to not look at them, he never thought of milkies.

Taking his oxygen stats was mean, just mean. If the boy was verbal, I'm sure that's what he would have said. *laugh* He also thought taking his temp was mean, it was an axillary temp too! So easy. The blood pressure cuff on his leg was really mean. Basically if anyone touched him, it was mean.

When the nurse came to take him back, I didn't give him a chance to object, I tossed him over to her and left *cough* quickly. *cough*

The wait for me was pretty miserable. Someone else gained control of the tv and *groan* was playing a sports channel. It was like nails on a chalkboard. I visited the grandma of the sick bottle boy. She'd come to help with the baby while the parents took care of the two older kids.

When Ean had his adenoids out, he was miserable for about twenty-four hours. I felt for the mom having two that she was going to have to nurse two that day.

Eventually the dentist came in and said that Dave needed four crowns, two upper molars and two lower molars. The two lower were on the same side, they were decayed between them. He also had a filling on the lower side opposite his two crowns.

It's amazing how self conscience I felt when I was asked how old Dave was. Having a two year old needing dental surgery was something I never planned on but I felt like I needed to explain about David's prematurity and projectile vomiting that when on for eight solid months. I didn't want anyone to assume that I had fed my child soda in a bottle for the past year or all he ate was super refined sugary sweets all day. Really it's silly, I know why Dave's teeth are so bad, why should it matter if someone else assumed something different.

The only thing I could have done differently was bring him in sooner. Honestly, that child eats so many crayons, I couldn't ever figure out it was crayons or decay in his mouth.

When I was finally brought back to recover and Dave was brought to me, he was still pretty out of it. He looked like a rag doll, so very limp in the nurses arms. He was placed on my lap and he had a rough time waking up. He fussed and was quiet and then fussed some more, then kicked mad with his eyes closed the whole time.

The nurse brought some apple juice for him to drink and then wandered off. I was annoyed because Dave was still hooked up to the IV and in my lap, so I was trapped and I was thirsty! I've been there before and had wonderful nurses bring me stuff to drink too when trapped under a little person but this nurse only worried about her patient. So when Dave woke up a touch more and started throwing a fit, I nursed him and I drank his apple juice. Seemed fair to me. I did make sure to mention not being offered a drink when the surgery center called to check up Dave and see if there was any problems with his treatment.

I left a touch of juice in the cup for him and offered him some a few minutes later. He tried to take a drink and it all fell out of his mouth on me and him both. I think his mouth felt super weird and he didn't know how to process the new sensations. I'd rather be wearing cold juice then vomit any day of the week. Since I was nervous Dave might throw up, I was actually relieved all I went home with was the juice on my shirt.

Dave's nurse kept pushing the juice on him. That annoyed me.

I know David. I know his history. If anyone in any given situation is going to have a bad tummy reaction to something, It'll be my Dave. Knowing this, I prefer to take new situations like coming out of anesthesia slowly. The last thing I wanted was Dave gulping juice when I didn't know if he was nauseous. Thankfully he kept it down, but I was actually expecting him to throw up. I've been thrown up on daily for eight months. I've cleaned the kid off after introducing every single new food for months. I've stripped in my front room drenched in my own milk more times then I can count. Of course that vomiting was exactly why we were at the surgery center with Dave getting massive dental work.

Dave woke up enough to realize that he had the IV in. That was very disturbing. Since he had nursed, the nurse said she could take it out. Amidst his thrashing she was able to remove the funny wrap stuff so we could plainly see the tape and IV needle in his arm. He flipped. She was pulling the tape off when he jerked his arm, grabbed the line pulled. He got it partly out but it was still taped, so it was bleeding but not coming off. I'm sure it hurt because he now had the end poking him.

The nurse got the rest off and there's was a whole lot of blood coming out the hole. Dave fought us on applying pressure so it could clot. The nurse remarked he sure has good veins. Finally when a cotton ball and band aid could be left on, he objected to that too. Then he figured out he had an ID bracelet on his ankle. Oh yeah, that was bad too. When everything was off his body, then he could finally relax and just whine so I'd realize how miserable he was.

Finally I took the boy home, well I actually took him to see Kent first. I figured since my mom was bonding with Greg alone, she could use a little more time with him. Dave snuggled into Kent's arms for a bit and then he was obviously in pain so I took him home.

Greg did fantastic with my mom, she actually got to play with him and love on him before she left.

When I brought Dave in, hurting, exhausted and super cranky he walked straight over to Greg and those two boys embraced for a minute or two. Greg reached over and patted Dave's back while holding him. I wonder if Greg understood that Dave was distressed?

Guess I'll never know.

It's way to early

And my contacts are killing me. Unfortunately this AM (five am that is) I don't have much choice. I have to be up and I don't have decent glasses to wear out in public so the eyeball burning contacts it is. I think it's simply a matter of not getting enough sleep before putting them back on.

I'm up because in fifty minutes I need to take my youngest to the local surgery center for dental surgery. My youngest is Dave for anyone that lost track of my crew. Poor guy will get those rotten teeth fixed. I anticipate the hardest challenge will be not letting him nurse. Weaning is going pretty good during the daytime but first thing in the morning? Yeah, I haven't even tried to cut that out yet.

My mom is here for one more day, gosh I'll miss her when she goes. And not just because she did four loads of laundry for me yesterday. It's been so nice talking with her.

Yesterday she leaned up against me and we just talked for about an hour. I know she's really missed that kind of physical contact since dad died five years ago so I try to hug and touch mom whenever I see her. I can't imagine how hard it is being a widow when you've been use to having your partner and spouse with you during your day to day life.

Ugh, I have tears dropping down my cheek from this one contact. I better rinse it out and see if that helps before getting Dave up and out the door.

I'm going to be worthless the rest of day. *YAWN*

My mom is visiting.

My mom just finished an LDS mission at the Family History Center in Salt Lake City. She left her home for a year, paid for her mission out of her own pocket and completely gave her time and energy to give service unto others.

I'm so proud of her.

But everything must come to an end and it's time for my mom to go home. Since we live in Idaho, mom was actually closer to me during this last year then she is when she's home. Home being Vermont. We actually snuck to Salt Lake every month or two to see her on her days off. Fortunately mission rules differ for older missionaries then for the young 20-somethings most people think of as missionaries. So our visits were legal, no rule breaking and for the first time my kids got to know my mom on a more regular basis.

Mom's only with us until Friday. Hopefully the twins warm up to her. They've been total turkeys towards their grandma. I wonder if it's because we're on "their" turf. They are acting kinda shy and really they only want me. Actually other then Kent, they really aren't cuddly to other people, so it's nothing personal but still, I know my mom is aching to hug and snuggle those boys.

Fortunately Ean has latched onto my mom like there's no tomorrow. He follows her everywhere, including in the loo! I've had to remind mom several times that in this house locked doors are your friend. *laugh*

Since mom is driving back to VT, she has her car packed to the hilt. She's spent most of the day repacking it. Trying to figure out how to make more room for her sister's suitcase. Mom took out a snow shovel and an umbrella while rearranging, Ean has claimed them both. Actually he tried to sleep with the snow shovel last night with his arms and legs wrapped it, just sure someone would try to take it from him.

Mom's accepted that she's probably lost the shovel.

The LDS church won't let their single missionaries drive alone so my aunt flew out today and will meet up with my mom on Friday to drive back with her. Fortunately for my aunt she was flying on Delta and didn't have tickets for American airlines, and their mess of over three thousand cancelled flights.

Ean has been amusing his grandma too. He's very quick to correct his perceived ideas. For instance, I showed him the American sign language I love you sign. I told him what it means and he looked at me and said MOM, that isn't a four, that's a three.

Blink blink

So I repeated in telling Ean that when I held my hand like that, it means I love you.

He was very quick to jump in again and tell me that wasn't a four, that was three and then held up four fingers to show me what four looked like. It's as if I said, the grass is green and he said NO MOM, the sky is blue!!! Who can argue with that kind of logic?

A few minutes ago my mom said to him that he was my number one boy. He was very insulted because he is not one he is FOUR!! (and he isn't really four yet *laugh* but birthdays are so subjective)

A few days in, the little boys are starting to tease my mom, grin as they run out of reach. She really wants to hold and cuddle them but they just won't let her. She's got two things working against her. One, they are boys and two, the age. The twins really won't snuggle and cuddle with anyone. My mother in law would also really like to bond with them. Apparently mommy is the only one that will do.

I wonder once I get the turkeys weaned if it will be any better?

Actually all my kids have gone through a mommy only stage. Ean actually spent an entire year of his life yelling no when Kent's dad tried to touch him. Oh he changed, it just had to be on his time table. Now he can't get enough of his papa. Papa picked him up from preschool today and Ean cried when he was brought to our house. He wanted to stay and play with papa.

So there's hope for the twins.

Bedwetting

My ten year old is a bedwetter. For years and years she's used the good nights. Now I do like the concept and for overnighters and stuff, it's a great idea but our daughter has been using them as a crutch for some time now. And as much as I love the child, she's lazy when it comes to throwing the good nights away.

I thought it was gross finding them on the floor.

Well it is gross, but it's worse finding pee soaked blankets and clothes scattered all over her room.

Now I did say she used the good nights as a crutch, her wetting was cut down two thirds after we stopped buying them. She went from maybe one dry night a week to four or five dry nights a week. Huge improvement, almost overnight. Our big problem now is getting the urine smell out of her room and out of the mattress. Oh yes, the girl has a waterproof mattress cover. She actually has two, so if one is dirty, there's a spare to put on the bed.

Her sister stripped her bed last week and she didn't bother to put it back on going to sleep. She didn't even tell me she needed help making the bed, grrrrrr. Well I noticed her room smelled a few days later and I told her to bring up everything that was wet. She brought up three things. So I washed them. A few days after that, her room really smells. I go in there and there's wet stuff everywhere, including a huge spot on the carpet!!!

Picture crazy woman throwing stuff in a garabage bag like there's no tomorrow. Yeah, that was me. Those girls of mine are pefectly happy to live like pigs!

I guess the only choice I have is to ride that girl every morning to force her to deal with any wet stuff as soon as it happens. Her grandma offered to buy her more good nights, because she assumed it was purely an economical choice to stop buying them. That's not the case and I turned her down.

I really think in the end it's the best choice for Jane.

Greg survived

We started off the day just as planned with me taking David to the doctor for a physical. He got the healthy connections referral which should take care of medicaid. We had a little lunch, Ean came off the bus, Ean and Dave went to the neighbors and I took Greg to his appointment.

Little sweetheart kissed me and loved on me while we were waiting. It's an AWFUL feeling knowing what's coming while your child is sitting completely unaware they'll experience pain and discomfort.

Greg thought the tv on the ceiling in the procedure room was cool and he was a big ol flirt with the hygienist that was assisting the dentist. Well he was a flirt until it was time to do the shot. The hygienist stabilized his head, the dentist of course worked the shot and I held his arms and legs making sure he stayed right where he was at.

He of course started yelling as soon as he was restrained, who can blame him? I didn't watch. I kept my head turned and my eyes closed. Seeing him so upset and hurting even though it was for the best would have been to much. He managed to jerk his head a little bit so there was a touch more bleeding from his gums but he comforted quickly after they stopped.

We watched the tv on the ceiling a bit more. I showed him the patients chair and the hygienist's chair made a great drum set. *laugh* There was music playing and I danced a bit while holding him.

Greg is not a dummy. He knew something more was up. He got his coat and announced it was time to leave.

Fortunately the dentist and hygienist came back in and we were able to get it over with. I started to watch while holding his arms and legs again but I couldn't. As soon as I saw the tool for pulling teeth, I had to turn my head. The dentist remarked it was an awfully soft tooth and I looked over to see him getting a different tool, the tooth had broken off. So poor guy, it was more traumatic then anticipated.

When it was done, the dentist gave me a chance to hold him and apply gauze and pressure to the wound.

He bit me.

I was more careful after that. He really didn't want me to touch him so the hygienist held his head so I could apply pressure better. Finally it stopped oozing and I could just hold him. He settled down fast after that. Actually fell asleep in the car. I collected the other boys and put the boys down for a nap. Boy you could tell Greg needed a nap.

I heard noise a bit later and thought Dave was up, nope it was Greg. When Dave finally woke up a few hours later and Greg saw him, Greg giggled with delight, put his arms around him and just held him. Dave patted Greg's back. I would have loved to hear what they would have said to each other if they'd been verbal.

Later on Greg decided he needed me and if Dave tried to come near me, Greg started to scream. Somewhere Dave bit him. I'm not sure when but the size of the bite mark, definitely a two year old.

They're both in bed now. One down, one to go. The seventeenth is Dave's surgery. Dave will be asleep so it won't be the same kind of traumatic for him.

I still hate having to do this to them, even though it's for their own good and they'll be healthier because of it. It seems to really go against my mommy mode to see them hurt and scared.

I'm really nervous about Greg's tooth.

He gets it pulled tomorrow. Crazy crazy schedule for us. The three oldest have school, Ean goes to preschool. I have to hurry and get the twins fed and ready to go the family doc at 9:15. David is getting his physical so he can get approval for dental surgery on the seventeenth.

Get home, Get Ean off the bus at 10:40. Take Dave and Ean to the neighbor's house forty minutes later. Take Greg in for his appointment at noon.

*Cry* cause my baby is hurting and not understanding what's going on.

Come home, pick up the boys from the neighbor. Pray Greg can nap so I can get some housework done. Make dinner for us and for our neighbors, it's my Thursday to cook. I could have switched or changed days but I decided to make homemade pizza and as long as everything but the dough is done before, it's not that hard. So today I've slicing and dicing pizza toppings. *smile*

I'm actually more nervous about Greg's tooth then I am for Dave's dental surgery. Dave won't remember, he's being put under. Poor Greg though...

I'll be glad when it's over.

Scissors...

It's been suggested to me that allowing children to have scissors is a good thing because it allows children to cut and use that energy and curiosity in a controlled environment. This of course assumes that you've given them material to cut and that they understand what they should and should not cut. This also assumes they have the desire to follow your counsel even though their siblings hair, clothes and possibly sheets are beckoning to them.

Yes I said sheets.

Kent and I always being careful with money tend to use one pair of sheets until they wear out and then buy a new pair. We've never spent the money on extra sheets even though it would have been terribly handy, especially when one of the kids has been sick.

We made a point to ask for deep pocket queen size sheets two Christmases ago, and that's what we got. Score! Finally, I wouldn't frantically try to get the sheets in the dryer hoping they'd be dry before bedtime.

We had two nice sets of sheets for only a couple of months and then for reasons only my then 20 month old could understand, he scored a pair of scissors and cut little V shaped cuts all through the sheet. We're talking hundreds of cuts, not something that could be repaired.

I cried.

Well last night, even though he's two years older, Ean's proved again that even when provided with direction and all the correct materials, he can't stop himself from cutting. This time it was the clothes on his back. Yes he cut his shirt and pants to smithereens. *shaking head* That kid!! When I asked him why he just repeated over and over again, Oh no mom, I cut them! Ean honey, why did you cut your clothes? MOM! NO, I cut them!

I gave up, really did I have to understand why or should I keep myself a touch saner by acknowledging there are some things I'll never understand. It's easier to try to prevent then try to get a straight answer from a kid that thinks I'm really confused because I kept asking him stupid questions.

Don't get me wrong, Ean doesn't have a monopoly. The girls have hacked their hair more times then I'd care to remember. There's also a few quilting blocks that bit the dust, my pants, a few of the girls dresses.

No, Ean isn't alone, not by a long shot. But he is the most thorough.

Ean's birth.

In the same manner that I had felt another child after Jane's birth, I felt another presence soon after Kate was born. Like Kate, I didn't know gender or personality, I only knew that the Lord was entrusting another soul into our family. Also similar to my experience with Kate, I didn't know when this person was to arrive. Kent and I used birth control the first few months of Kate's life, just to make sure we didn't have any back to back babies but after that we left it in the hands of God.

Nursing is pretty effective for me in suppressing ovulation, so I wasn't surprised that first year to not have anything happen. Actually it wasn't until Kate was 18 months that I found myself pregnant. I was really excited. I called my parents, word got out quickly. We picked out a name for that baby. Greg after Kent's favorite uncle and probably Malcolm after my dad but we weren't sure on that. We asked Kent's grandma if it was ok to use the name Greg, after all that was her son and he was deceased. She was thrilled that we wanted to use the name.

My parents came out to visit the first week in august, the year was 2002. I was queasy and not a happy camper. My dad spoiled me rotten by taking us out to eat every single night. My mom was TICKED at my dad. *laugh* It was his way spoiling me and mom couldn't stop him. It was a neat visit. We went to the zoo, we talked, we laughed. My dad cracked me up by fixing our house. He was awfully worried he'd insult Kent but Kent didn't have time and hey, if my dad was willing to buy parts Kent wasn't about to stop him. *grin*.

Mid august I started to bleed. It was happening again. That pregnancy wasn't meant to be. In a way it was easier then my first miscarriage. I'm not sure why but maybe I had a touch more faith in trusting that timing was everything and if I didn't stay pregnant then I had to be willing to trust the Lord, his wisdom and his time table. Thankfully with this loss, I didn't have the problems that I had before. It all passed on it's own. I had one day of excruciating cramping and then my physical healing went pretty fast. My emotional healing then took a dive.

If that miscarriage had been the only crisis I had to deal with then I would have been fine but it wasn't. Two weeks later, just barely when I had stopped bleeding, my mom called at 5:30 in the morning. My dad had died of an unexpected heart attack. The coroner said that he was dead before he hit the ground. It was September forth, 2002. We went had to sacrifice our savings for three plane tickets East. My cousin that lives in Salt Lake flew both ways with us. Her husband, normally a kind and caring man was so caught up with his wife leaving him for a week when he didn't think she should go, he was a complete self absorbed jack-ass right before we left.

One of the most hurtful things he said was basically, that my dad was a drunk, making it sound like that made the loss less for all of us. He never expressed condolences, that I hurt that my dad had died because he was ticked of his wife going to the funeral. Somehow he missed that my house growing up was like a second home to my cousin and her brothers. They spent a lot of time there. My cousin loved my dad almost like a second father. My cousin's husband never figured out how hurtful and insensitive he was the day after my fathers death.

Adding to the hurt of losing my father was the unintentional hurt caused by those that my dad had shared shared the good news with. So I had people I didn't even know whispering congratulations to me on a pregnancy I had lost just two weeks before.

The back to back losses put me in an awful depression. I cried a lot. The thought of doing housework, loading the washer overwhelmed me. I gradually pulled myself out but it was a long and hard road. I knew that if I had boy next I wanted to use Malcolm as a middle name, after my dad.

Actually the emotional roller coaster left me empty for some time. I stopped caring about getting pregnant. Where I got pregnant so fast with Jane after that loss it took over a year to conceive Ean and I wasn't even nursing.

I should mention that Kate was weaned about four months after my dad's death. It was just after her second birthday and I can't quite remember why but I couldn't nurse her that morning. I think I was getting Jane ready for school. Kate whimpered and whined for five whole minutes. Then she spotted the bottle of orange soda from the night before and started to scream that's what she wanted. We don't have pop in the house very often but she knew what it was! She screamed for forty-five minutes straight. The whole enchilada, kicking and screaming, it was very impressive. Obviously nursing wasn't that important to the girl. I said no the next day and she was done.

That left a big chunk of time trying to conceive without nursing and still nothing happened.

I struggled during the summer when a woman at church announced her pregnancy. She had a son the same age as Kate and this was her second pregnancy since we had our two December 2000 babies. I cried. It seemed so unfair. I lost hope for a while. Actually I don't know if you could really say I lost hope as much as I just stopped caring. It was really a dark time for me. I shut down. Went through the motions.

The one thing I did do during this time was lose a bunch of weight. I was *H*O*T*. *laugh* I was spinning 3 times a week, riding my bike that summer, hauling kids on my bike. It was awesome.

During the fall, I was at spinning class and suddenly I felt my stomach lurch. Uh, I knew that feeling. So after class I stopped by the drug store for a test and there was no doubt, I was pregnant.

This left me with a difficult doctor decision. I know that no one would have blamed me if I went to a different doctor after what happened with Kate. Our family physician was directly responsible for her injury. I prayed, a lot and I felt like going back to him was the right decision. I really was happy with that choice too.

Meeting with the doctor during that first pregnancy visit, he excitedly told me all the changes he'd made, basically changing his whole birth philosophy to avoid situations like Kates. He went into great detail on how his delivery had changed, how he now does classes to teach other doctors and med students how to avoid shoulder dystocia. How common practices like episiotomies will not free the babies shoulder. What the mom has to do to widen the pelvis.

Firmly believing there's a purpose in all things, It renewed my spirit to see his enthusiasm for a cause he now felt deeply about.

A controversial move to avoid dystocia is to induce early. This is because induced babies are more at risk for dystocia because they haven't dropped into the pelvis before labor. However, after talking with my doctor, I decided to go with the induction. Having birthed two babies vaginally, I knew that my babies don't drop until it's time to push. So really, I couldn't see how an induction would increase that risk. Also, I already had an induction at thirty-seven weeks, zero days and delivered in four hours from going on the pit. My body likes going into labor and seems to deliver a touch earlier.

It's not a decision I took lightly and I was accused by many for having an elective induction but it wasn't elective and the decision wasn't made lightly. The decision was made at eight weeks pregnant, the date wasn't chosen for any one's convenience or schedule.

I felt defensive about my decision to induce. It was ironic that women who didn't see Kate, didn't go through the agonizing first six months of her life not knowing if she'd have a permanent disability were very quick to judge me.

It was ironic that my doctor who doesn't schedule inductions unless there is a medically sound reason had five (one was me) scheduled that month. There was a very large group of National guards going over to Iraq that month and he had four OB patients at thirty-seven weeks or farther when the dad's were scheduled to leave. I can't say for sure but I strongly suspect that I would have induced if my husband was leaving for a year.

I've already written out three births, the girls and the twins. Ean was my perfect pregnancy and birth. My one memory where I can smile knowing that everything went right with the pregnancy, where no one was in trouble. What an awesome feeling and I'm grateful that I had one pregnancy that went perfectly.

I was determined to not find out the sex. Kent and my mom, who was there for the ultrasound announced they both thought it was a bad idea, so I caved. To say Kent was thrilled to be getting a son doesn't quite do his emotions justice. He beamed, just beamed.

Even though physically everything was fine, I was having some emotional problems. Since I had shut down after those back to back losses, I didn't open my heart to this little boy for a long time. Actually about half way through my pregnancy I touch my belly, felt him move and realized I felt disconnected from that baby inside. It was a scary feeling. I prayed, I rubbed my belly and talked to him, I did everything I could to connect to him and the oddest thing happened.

I must have connected because we had his name all picked out and it felt wrong. It didn't feel right. With Jane, I knew her name and once we confirmed what we both thought it was, we used it even while I was still pregnant and it felt natural. Kent's mom used the name Greg a few times while I was pregnant and I cringed, it just didn't feel right. I actually kept this to myself for a good six weeks and the disconnection between the name and the child inside me grew. I had to tell Kent.

Sensitive man that he is, Kent immediately told me To bad, the name was already picked.

What?

You didn't say that?! Oh HELLO! You're telling your pregnant wife that she can't change her mind on a child not even born. Like HELL!

Kent and I have a really good relationship and we honestly don't fight. Well at least our record was clean until this moment in time. This was the precursor of three months of fighting, almost until the birth. Kent kept saying, we'd decided, it'd hurt his grandma's feelings because Greg was her deceased son. And he was right, it did hurt his grandma and I felt/still feel terrible about that but I could not name a child something that didn't feel right.

For some reason I don't understand Jane and Kate started calling the baby Malcolm. I never encouraged or suggested they use the name Malcolm but since I had a secret desire that I never told my husband to use that name, I thought it was hysterical to hear them use it. I've wondered if my dad was whispering the name across the veil into the girl's ear.

I told Kent's mom about the girls, once again because I thought it was cute and it all blew out of proportion. Suddenly I was getting calls on how I have to name the baby Greg, how much it would hurt Grandma over and over again. My husband was one of the worst ones. So praying for patience and guidance I called Kent's grandma myself and tried to explain how I felt disconnected between the name Greg and the baby due in a few short months. She was very hurt and very upset. And my biggest regret was setting her up for that disappointment when we should have kept our big mouths shut until we were closer to the birth. There's not many things I wish I could change about my past, but I do wish I could take that hurt away.

Kent didn't realize it but I was starting to hate the name Greg. He was such a jerk about my feelings, completely dismissing my intuition, every time he announced we had a name and there wasn't a chance to change it, I got madder.

Finally Kent consented to consider other names (but he did let me know he still felt it was silly when we had a perfectly good name). We tossed a few around and had a couple we both could agree on. I did compromise that we wouldn't pick anything new until the baby was born in case I held him and changed my mind about using the name Greg. Kent didn't know how negative I felt about the name after fighting for three months.

When the name Ean was put on the list, I referred to spelling because Ian is the traditional spelling. Kent thought I'd lost my mind because his best friend growing up spelled Ean. After three months of contention and fighting I was more then willing to give on the spelling just because it wasn't worth fighting about.

The rest of the pregnancy I was reminded occasionally that this baby's name should be Greg by well meaning family members.

I was also a tad frustrated that some members of the family continued to warn me about the dangers of inductions. As I said before, this was not a decision that I had made lightly. While understanding the warnings were made out of concern, I found them intrusive. Especially when the warnings were made by those that experienced the trauma of Kate's birth with us.

The goal on Ean's birth was to have neither the baby nor me in trouble. Having done both before, I longed for healthy from beginning to end and was blessed with that health. I'll forever be grateful for this one birth experience which was uneventful. Neither my health nor the babies was ever in jeopardy. Actually my heath was excellent during this pregnancy. I went to spinning classes twice a week until the beginning of the third trimester when during class the baby kicked hard enough to hurt like crazy, apparently ticked with the motion of me hopping around on the bike.

Around thirty-five weeks we discussed when to induce. Since Kate was born at thirty-eight and a half weeks, we went a week earlier. My doctor didn't dare go earlier then that and he ordered an ultrasound to make sure that everything looked fine before scheduling the induction.

It certainly wasn't an induction for convenience! Before I left for the appointment, Kent told me that any day the next week would be fine, except the twelfth. He had a huge meeting that he couldn't miss that day. When talking days with the doctor, the twelfth was the only day that worked. So we knew, we knew our baby was going to be born on the twelfth of May. My mom had her plane ticket already bought and she was going to be there for the birth. She hadn't been to a grandchild's birth, so this was going to be a first and probably the only time. Kent's mom was also going to be there. I didn't want to exclude her after she'd already experiences both the girl's birth.

We arranged sitters for the girls. My mom wouldn't come until after a bit. Jane was walking to a friends house after school. Everything was set.

I was so nervous, I woke up super early and couldn't go back to sleep, so we called the hospital at five am to ask if I could come in. The labor and delivery nurse was shocked I was calling so early, but they only had one patient so I could come in. It really worked to my advantage because about an hour after I came in and we'd already started, three other women came in. If I'd called then, they would have told me to wait.

After I had been laboring several hours, my mom and Kent's mom showed up. Really they were there to soon. Kent's mom just kept jabbing away. Then she got a phone call and said that her mom (Kent's grandma) was outside in the waiting area and she wanted to know if she could wait there so she could come in right after the baby was born. Honestly, I felt like there was already a room full of people, I told Kent's mom to tell her to come in, she could stay for the birth if she wanted too.

When Kent's grandma came in she lost her balance and came within a hairs breadth of grabbing the sterile tool table set up for delivery. Luckily she didn't actually grab it. All the grandma's jabbered and my mom (Bless her!) suggested they visit the cafeteria for breakfast. Kent and I had a good hour to ourselves to enjoy the process and anticipate the arrival of our son.

We had the old battle ax of a nurse that was wonderful. She was so attentive, she cared so much. She was the best nurse I'd even had. She was also irreverent, opinionated and not to mention stubborn. Her personality and views on religion mirrored my dads and there were times when in the middle a contraction, she'd say something and my mom and I would both look at each other and smile. It felt like the Lord was letting my dad be with us in some small way.

At one point she wanted me to labor with the blood pressure cuff on, no flipping way was I doing that again. She said I couldn't have drugs without the cuff on and I told her, when that time came, I'd have it on. I had an intrathecal again and kept the damn cuff on. I do follow rules, even stupid ones. As soon as the intrathecal wore off, I took that cuff off again.

I was almost fully dilated for a long time. It was really strange because with the girls I had this overwhelming desire to push very early on and I didn't have that with Ean. The intrathecal slowed down my labor and contractions this time. I hadn't anticipated that. So I wasn't about to get anything else, I wanted to keep control. I used the bar over the bed and spent a while laboring there. I worked hard trying to ease that baby down. I started to push with contractions even though I didn't feel the urge to push.

Even though it was the best birth, the ideal we sought after where both of us weren't harmed or in danger, it was the most intensive and hardest physically for me in terms of work I needed to do. That lip on my cervix just wouldn't go away and I pushed much longer then the girls put together trying to pop that baby past the cervical lip. My doctor didn't actually deliver me, a young doctor fresh out of medical school was doing her labor and delivery rounds and I gave her permission to deliver me. I'd never had a woman work with me before and even though she didn't have children of her own, the level of empathy she showed during the birth process was amazing. She worked very hard under the direction of my doctor to help move that baby past the lip of the cervix.

There were times that I almost passed out while pushing. I remember blacking out and then looking around actually feeling confused and not knowing where I was when it would dawn on me that I was suppose to be pushing.

My battle ax nurse would continue to make irreverent remarks about organized religion during this time.

Finally Ean Malcolm Hill made his appearance into the world. His two grandmothers and his great-grandmother were all lined up on the opposite wall with a perfect view of his entrance into the world. I joked afterwards that all they were missing was popcorn during the show. I whispered to my husband that if we were to have anymore, I wanted no one in the room. That dear seven pound, twelve ounce baby boy was placed on my tummy. Unlike Kate where she was so obviously in trouble, Ean was so healthy. He cried and squirmed as I talked to him, touched him. Finally his cord was cut and they took him over to the table to examine him briefly. My son proceeded to pee all over the nurse. It was hysterical.

Officially he wasn't named yet. We held off because I had agreed with my husband that I would see how I felt after the baby was born. Ean was born with bright red hair and Kent's uncle Greg was a red head. Kent's grandmother felt like that was a sign that baby was suppose to be named Greg and for over a year after that, she confided to Kent's mom that she felt like we had named the baby wrong.

Of course Ean is who he is and I have no regrets about his name. I knew it wasn't Greg. I knew that name wasn't suppose to go with that child and when Kent chose to use it on one of the twins, it fit so much better. I do still regret hurting Kent's grandma and I'm sorry she had such strong feelings during Ean's birth about his name.

Actually Kent's grandma took great offense at the battle ax nurse and her remarks on religion and put a complaint into the hospital. This upset me far more then the name business. Since I allowed her to be there for my birth, to really be a spectator, I felt it wasn't her place to complain. I wasn't offended and Kent wasn't offended and we were the parents. Actually the battle ax nurse has a special place in my heart, she reminded me so much of my dad. I was thrilled to see her again, albeit briefly at the end of my pregnancy with the twins.

Ean.

My son.

Sometimes I have to remind myself what a blessing he is. *smile* My life certainly isn't ever boring with Ean. Really, the Lord must trust us to give us such a high spirited boy. In whatever way he could, I know my dad was with us on that day he joined our family. My dad would have loved Ean stories.

Ok, Jane's three year review.

I just signed the consent. Here's the testing that will be performed. Just a note, this in important because it decides what help she is qualified to receive from the special ed department (commonly called the resource room).

1. Intellectual/Cognitive Functioning. This will assess her ability to learn. Typically something she's struggled with in the past.

2. Academic Performance. This measures her achievements in areas such as oral expression, listening comprehension, written expression, basic reading skills, reading comprehension, mathmatics calculation and mathematical reasoning.

3. Classroom Observation. Collects information on how she performs in a classroom environment. This includes social/emotiona as well as acdemic performance.

4. Communication (speech, language) Speech assesses Jane's articulation, voice, vluency and motor skills. Language assesses Jane's receptive and expressive language skills including phonology, morphlogy, syntax, semantics and pragmatics. Please note that at this time (from the casual observation of her mother) Jane struggles with language far more then speech.

5. Auditory processing. Assesses Jane's ability to use auditory skills. I requested this testing on the advice of the boys speech therapist.

We'll see what happens with the testing.

I have a goose egg on my forehead.

I also have a goose egg on the top of my head and my bottom lip is swollen.

You may ask Lisa, what happened? as you gaze at me with that puzzled expression I know all to well. Well, I'll tell you, Greg happened!!! And I thought Kate was rough! Within fifteen minutes Greg headbutted me three times, giggling every step of the way. Little turkey thought it was great fun. Then he rolled on me, rolled over my head, decided my hair needed a good yank too.

I have a headache.

And my allergies are going a bit mad right now but I think that's mostly my fault. Ok, it's all my fault. See for dinner I made Kent's favorite sour cream enchilada. It was pretty good, it was also pretty messy. It spilled all over the inside of the oven.

I decided to make some bribes for Kate this evening. After all every normal person I know kicks the oven on at ten thirty at night. Well the spillage from dinner started smoking.

I checked.

Oh look, a lovely fire. We could have toasted marshmallows! Kent comments we need to clean out the oven and I love that man but we really means you need to (insert whatever needs to be done) and that irks me a bit. Anyway I told him all the smoke was from fresh stuff.

Few months ago I had another fire from spilled banana bread.

Honestly, I'm a better cook then it sounds like from this entry, honest!! I've got to put cookies away, pop some benadryl, maybe some Tylenol for my headache. What a day!!

Touched out

I think most moms know what I mean when I use the phrase touched out. It's that feeling having someone invade your personal space over and over again. It's a three year old putting his feet in your face, five times in a row. When the twins have decided they need to nurse, all day long. When every moment I try to relax by sitting down I find at least two children on me and they are pushing each other trying to claim me as their own.

Now don't get me wrong, I appreciate being loved but seriously, these kids think that not only do they have to touch me, but they should have exclusive rights to my personage. They go into guard dog mode, pushing and shoving any child that tries to invade their *cough*my*cough space!

It gets even better when the inevitable chorus of My mommy!! NO MY MOMMY!!! breaks out. At that point I seriously not only want ear plugs but I have a huge desire to live in a physical bubble cut off from the world.

How do I teach the little urchins that when I pay attention to one particular child, their worth does not start plummeting. This isn't the stock market! My love doesn't have a ticker that goes with the Eb and flow of what's happening in my house. Now my patience has a ticker and today, it was low, very very low.

I hurt my back this morning. No I don't want to discuss how but the resulting ache has permeated every activity I've done today. There was also a religious broadcast today that I wanted to watch, soak in, enjoy perhaps even be uplifted. Oh my hopes were way to high. Instead I refereed fights, had people tugging and touching me every time I turned around, begging for food, to play, to do ANYTHING but what they were told to do.

Yeah, I turned off the broadcast and went to Walmart Alone! Actually as proof of my desperation, my hard hearted self pried Greg off my pant leg and left him watching me, crying at the window while I drove off. I was a lot nicer when it was just Jane. However, needing time to be in a place where I wouldn't be climbed on, tackled, pulled, pinched, bugged, harassed, or anything like unto it, I chose Walmart as the lesser evil.

How sick is that?

So it was crowded, noisy and I had to park out in kingdom come but no one touched me! I bought really exciting things like milk, cheese, eggs and dog food. It was fabulous! Good grief, I was desperate, wasn't I?

The twins were having some mommy time and Kate tried to push them off. I'm telling her that she doesn't have to hang on me and she burst into tears saying no one loves her. When reading with Kate Ean, well Ean is lucky to be alive, he was driving me bonkers! Feet, touch touch touch, climb on my back, giggle giggle. It was important time with Kate and I couldn't get rid of the kid.

I hope they all calm down tomorrow. I can't take another day like today. You wouldn't think the crew lived with me twenty-four seven the way they all clung today!!!

SHEEEEEESH!

Oh crap, the twins went to the dentist this morning.

Greg has had a discolored tooth for over a year now. It's actually gotten darker the past few months. Actually I figured the tooth was dying or dead but I wasn't worried. I didn't realize the gum is swollen so we're talking infection and if we're talking infection we're talking extraction.

So my twenty-seven month old baby needs to have his tooth pulled. The worst? I have to hold him while he's getting it numbed! *sob* I think I'll send Kent. I don't know if I can do it. I mean, hold my baby while he feels like he's tortured and be a part of something where he'll hurt afterwards.

This tooth is one of his front upper teeth. Now I want the boys weaned but damn, I don't weaning to be associated with a painful time that will make him want nummies even more. Sometimes they just need the comfort. I have no idea what this will do to our nursing relationship. No idea at all.

Dave's is worse. He's got cavities in two upper molars that will need crowns put on them and he's got cavities in lower molars. He needs to be put under to deal with it all. Oh gosh, my baby boy! He's the same age Ean was when Ean got his first set of tubes but something about when they're so little, it's just scarier I think.

Dave's getting his work done at the same surgery center Kate had her tubes put in last month. He has to have a physical before hand and I've already scheduled that with his primary physician. Kent's in a panic because he doesn't think medicaid will cover the surgery center.

I just don't see how they can't. And I really don't need the panic from him. It's just ticking me off. The only other choice would be the hospital and the surgery center is far cheaper then out patient at the hospital would be.

The boys dentist is covered by medicaid, the work needs to be done and the doctor will only do it if he's under, cause it's so much and he's such a little guy. I just don't see how it could not be covered.

I'm illegally using Dave's antibiotics on Greg right now. Don't turn me in. Greg has the same prescription, same dosage as Dave and I haven't had a chance to pick Greg's up yet. Using Dave's has allowed me to make sure Greg gets one more full day of antibiotics in before his extraction. *disclaimer* Please note I would never have given the child antibiotics if he hadn't been prescribed them.

SO that's my day. The good, the bad and the ugly. I'm dreading this. My dear sweet boys won't understand. They just won't and that's the very hardest of all.

Edited to addI just got word from medicaid the boys have both bumped up in the type of coverage they receive. I'm really shocked. This doesn't affect their teeth but it means they're covered for speech and service cordination with infant toddler. The shocker, we never applied. Pretty darn strange. Now, hopefully the answer to the greatquestion, will the surgery center be cover, is resolved soon.

Update on doctors that delivered Jane and Kate.

The doctor that delivered Jane had his privileges revoked at both hospitals in town. Apparently while he was delivering a baby, a staff member at one of the hospitals thought he was acting funny and reported him.

The OB claimed that after doing three deliveries in one night, he was simply fatigued and nothing else. The charges against him had no merit.

My aunt was particularly close to this OB and she was outraged at his privileges being revoked. Apparently it was only a matter of hours before his privileges were revoked at the other hospital.

This doctor continued to practice at the Blackfoot hospital, which I affectionately refer to as a band aid station.

It wasn't long before allegations of drug use came out and this doctor opted to move really fast. Considering how it all played out, I'm grateful the worse thing that came from him delivering Jane was that stupid episiotomy.

The family doc that delivered Kate is still delivering here in town. Actually I'll go in greater detail while blogging Ean's birth but this man completely changed how he birthed babies after Kate. He leaned/developed safer techniques geared towards avoiding shoulder dystocia and now holds seminars and classes teaching new doctors his birthing techniques. He's still our family physician.

The doctor that performed the D&C before Jane was conceived committed suicide a few years ago. Even though I didn't like him as a doctor, it truly was a tragedy for his two teenage children he left behind.

Kate's birth

It was funny, from the moment Jane came out I felt a whispering that there was another baby in our family. Where I knew Jane was a girl, I knew her name, I even knew some of her personality before birth. This next baby, I knew nothing. It was like flying blind.

I shocked my MIL when I mentioned the next one, Jane was only a few weeks old. I told her, I didn't mean in nine months and if I know there's another, what good does it do to pretend there isn't?

Jane was two when Kate was conceived, barely two that is. I didn't know boy or girl, I had no idea who this person was, I just knew he/she was ours.

Now the OB that delivered Jane ran into some problems here in town. He actually was banned from delivering at both hospitals. I also had that really uncomfortable experience with him going ballistic when I said I didn't want an episiotomy with Jane (the one he gave me anyway!) So I was doctor shopping. There's not many choices in town. Lots of old farts that have been delivering for decades, and still had the mindset from decades ago.

I found out our family doctor delivered and I was slightly uncomfortable with that. The man is only a year or two older then me and he's cute. If we were neighbors I'm sure we could be good friends. However, I managed to put my discomfort aside and went with the cute young doc. I was hoping that as a family doctor I could find less medical intervention then I had with the OB from before.

My pregnancy progressed normally, thankfully we didn't run into any problems. It really was a good pregnancy. We found out at twenty weeks that it was a girl and that felt right. Kent struggled with disappointment. He really wanted a son and he said he knew we'd have six girls now. Oh ye of little faith...

Kate proved to be a real pain. Pain in the ribs that is. Little turkey traveled up every night. I'd wake up with my ribs just swollen out. It was so painful. I would get up and walk and rub that baby back down several times a night.

ANYWAY, all went well through the whole pregnancy. I had lots of pre-labor. TONS of contractions in December. Actually at 34 weeks we confirmed I was dilating and my doctor was concerned that I'd go into labor while he was out of town that weekend. We had him check and make sure the OB that had done my D&C wasn't on call. I felt better when I found out that if anything happened, that wouldn't be the doctor touching me. It was a moot point, I didn't go into labor that weekend anyway. Kate was going to bake another three weeks.

We had two sets of names picked out. Kate Patricia, Kate after my dad's grandma and Patricia after my MIL. Pat still tells me that she doesn't like it when Kate's in trouble and she hears her name used with the get in trouble tone of voice. *laugh* The other name was Grace Lillian. Lillian was my mom's mom and Grace was honestly the only name I liked that went with it. We tossed both back and forth until after she was born.

My good friend Kim was completely against the name Grace. Said that child was anything but a Grace. Kim can have a smile on face knowing that she was absolutely right.

The two weeks before Christmas, I called my mom either late at night or early in the morning with contractions. Our phone bill was horrible that Christmas. After two or three hours of contracting steadily they eventually stalled. No baby that day. Christmas eve was the worst! I literally stayed up the entire night with contractions. I was positive that I would have a baby Christmas Day.

Uh, no.

Instead there was me, at my in laws grumpier then I had ever been in my life!! No sleep and contracting doesn't make for a very nice Christmas. I was trying to sleep on the couch before dinner and everyone was noisy. Well, they probably weren't that noisy but I couldn't stand it. Finally someone offered me a bed. I slept all through dinner. Which, ironically, I had made about two months before and froze.

The night of the twenty-sixth I started having hard contractions at about eleven. Kent went to bed and I played on the computer working through contractions. After reaching the point where I started pacing the hallway to work through contractions, I figured it was time to wake up Kent. It was about two in the morning. Kent's first reaction was lets wait and see it's real before waking anyone up. He was lucky I didn't turn violent that point. My contraction were hitting hard! I was thirty-eight weeks, three days pregnant.

So I got my bag out, made sure I had everything, got Kent moving. Probably yelled at him a bunch, it's all a blur. Called my aunt and uncle who were watching Jane for us. My aunt was sleeping with her phone next to head so she wouldn't miss our call. She answered it first ring and met us at the hospital parking lot.

I'm sure her drive there was a lot more pleasant then mine was. Every bump in the road was a new experience in pain. Kent hit the railroad tracks and I about went through the roof. I think I may have yelled then too. *sheepish look* Did I mention I was crabby? Anyway, my aunt and uncle took Jane and we whisked around to labor and delivery. When I walked in I announced to the nurse at the desk I was having a baby. Immediately she commented that we didn't know that for sure until they checked me, blah blah blah. Moms always think they're farther along then they really are.

Then they checked me.

Suddenly I wasn't the only one loud and demanding! *laugh* The nurse whipped around and yelled to the receptionist to call my doctor immediately and that no one was to touch me! I had bulging waters, was eighty percent effaced and dilated to a four. She was afraid if someone came to check me, my water would break and that baby would be here in no time.

By the time my doctor came, really just ten minutes or so later, I was dilated to a six. He broke my water, noted there was menaconium in the water and authorized drugs. Woot! I had an intrathecal. It's not as strong as an epidural and the line isn't kept in. It usually lasts about two hours. I wasn't worried and I was right, when it was time to push I still was numb.

I really liked the intrathecal. The edge was taken off the contractions but I could still feel them. I even worked a bit through them however in between I was able to relax a lot better. Kent liked it a lot. Something to do with me not yelling at him anymore. Oops.

It was time to push. It took me a few minutes to orientate myself on how to push when I didn't have complete sensation but it didn't take long. I pushed for counts of ten and I could feel that baby move down the birth canal. Then I'd stop pushing and she would shoot back up again. I could feel the sensation of her moving up and down. I found out only a year ago that this happens when the baby is to big for the birth canal.

Finally wanting it to end, when I had a contraction I pushed up to ten and then past ten. I just kept pushing. That's when Kate got stuck.

Shoulder dystocia is when the babies shoulder is caught in the mothers pelvis. There are positions that help widen the pelvis to move the baby out, but I had the intrathecal and was still numb. I was unable to flip over, or stand up and squat because of my choice to be medicated.

My Dr. yelled Pubic pressure! and two nurses started to press down on my tummy as hard as they could. I yelled, I yelled loudly. My previous birth was on the pit completely med free but this pain was much worse. I had a nurse trying to coach me to push but I couldn't push, all I could do was yell. The doctor moved his hand inside and guided Kate out. He placed her on my abdomen and I looked at my baby realizing she was not only blue, but she was floppy like a rag doll.

Her cord was cut lightning fast and she was whisked a few feet away so they could work on her. It took an agonizing minute before she cried. The doctor was working on me as I looked at him feeling panicked as he calmly said over and over again Lisa, she's going to be fine, she's going to be fine. He was right, she did cry and she was fine, eventually.

Where Jane looked like a porcelain doll, Kate looked like she'd survived a boxing match. Poor mookie was so swollen. Her face, her body, all over. Her forehead was one big bruise. She had little bruises along her jaw where the doctor had helped guide her past my pelvis. Her right arm was hyper-extended, held slightly past the natural bend of the elbow, stick straight with no movement in it. She kept it to the side of her, slightly towards her back. Her hand was in a fist with no movement in her fingers, actually there wasn't any movement in her entire arm and shoulder.

It's called a brachial plexus injury. The nerve is stretched, pinched or torn during birth. It was caused by our family doctor pulling her out. I researched and learned that if she didn't gain all her movement by six months in that arm, she'd need surgery and this had the potential of being a life altering injury. First we had to get her out of the nursery.

I delivered at a hospital without a nicu. If we'd gone to the other hospital, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't ended up in the nicu. She was pretty sick. She was under an oxygen tent and being monitored. My MIL asked when she'd be released and they said it'd be at least twenty-four hours, possibly forty-eight because she was so sick.

I was getting antsy after a few hours and desperately wanted to see her. After all the only view I had of her was when she had been so blue and floppy. I barely got to touch her. Even though my doctor had given me permission to go see my baby, the nurse looking after me was a complete witch. She said I couldn't go, after all I had an epidural and it hadn't worn off. Oh HELLO, it had because it wasn't an epidural, it was about five hours after an intrathecal which only last two hours! I was really REALLY getting mad, I was so frustrated with this control freak of a nurse. She didn't help me clean up after birth so I felt kinda trapped in my room. I was still all yucky. My in laws were in the room, so I didn't feel like I could do it myself.

If I had any sense (and wasn't so worried about that baby!) I would have kicked my in laws out and had my husband help me to clean up and gone to see my baby.

My husband and FIL went to give that baby a blessing, to help her heal and my doctor light heartily reminded them that she needed a name to get a blessing. Kent and I looked at each other and at the same time said her name was Kate. So off they went to give her a blessing and she immediately started to improve. Her breathing and oxygen level went to where it was suppose to be. She was able to leave the nursery less then an hour later. So four hours after birth, I was able to hold and nurse my baby Kate Patricia ****. Would you believe my little baby weighed in at nine pounds eleven ounces? She was a CHUNK! She nursed so well she was over ten pounds six days later.

My little fighter was able to gain all the movement in her arm by six months. She barely missed needing surgery, thank Heavens!! Out of habit she liked to keep her arm hyper-extended so Kent participated in some cruel form of baby torture and safety pinned her sleeve to her collar so she couldn't straighten her arm. Ticked her off!! *laugh*

Also, giving her a binky was an excellent idea! She moved her arms lots moving that darn thing to her mouth and away again.

Update on school for Kate

I didn't blog the beginning so I'm not sure "update" really is appropriate. I found out during parent teacher conferences that my second child was shutting down in school and doing nothing. She was doodling, playing, but not working... nooooooooo. It's frustrating as a parent to see a kid not even try.

Kate's always had a very low frustration thresh hold. She's super easily frustrated and she hates not being perfect. School work, well if she wasn't guaranteed to get it perfect the first time, she wasn't even going to try. This desire for perfection showed up in everything she tried to do. If she wouldn't do it right she was instantly frustrated. She also doesn't cope well with correction.

Funny Kate story. My dad died when Kate was twenty months old. I took Kate back to Vermont for the funeral. A group of us were gathered in my mom's living room discussing the services for the next day. I mentioned to my mom that I needed to remember to not wear mascara. My mom shot me a look and said, oh yeah, that's right, no mascara!

Then my poor SIL, no children, never planned on having any said And no mascara for Kate either.

Kate heard the word no and she heard her name and threw herself on the floor screaming. My poor SIL looked at her while saying. Kate, you can have mascara, honest! She just didn't know what to do, lol.

So back to schoolwork. I was frustrated that parent teacher conference was the first I heard about Kate not doing her work. Apparently this had been going on for a month. However, one battle at a time. There was an assignment that Kate was suppose to work on for the month, she didn't do hardly any of it. I got permission from her teacher to redo it and give it to her in two weeks. I then made arrangements for Kate's teacher to send a daily note home to find out how she did. She's getting rewarded for good notes. I've done food a few times, cookies, she likes cookies but food is an awful reward. I really don't like doing it.

St. Patricks day I let her choose dinner and cook it as long as she had a good note. She made green pancakes and was SO proud of herself! My stove has never been such a mess. *laugh*

We've also used Barbie movies for long term goals and rewards. So far we've done a whole week of notes for a movie. Kent would like to do two weeks but I think that's to far in the future. I don't want her to shut down because she thinks a goal is insurmountable.

I talked with her teacher yesterday and she said she's doing better.

I don't think her teacher is a bad teacher as much as I think her teacher and Kate just aren't a very good fit together. Kate's teacher is super nice but Kate wants her hand held while her teacher is very much into independent learning and thinking. Kate actually would excel if she was home schooled. She thrives one on one. Unfortunately that's not possible. With the little boys I can't focus all my time and energy on one kid during the day so we're stuck with doing the best we can with what we've got.

Ean and the fishtank

I'm currently working on a post about Kate, but I need to put that on hold and jot down quick what Ean's been up too.

We have a 45 gallon fish tank. It's always been my husbands dream to own a larger fish tank. We bought it used and it's held up well. Now Ean kept getting into the fish supplies, so we put latches on the doors in the stand. Today, I'm not sure how, but today he ripped one of the doors clean off.

Off the hinges.

He told me what he had done and I let him know that telling me was the right thing to do. He certainly had been naughty but I want to foster a feeling of trust with my children and let them know that telling me the hard stuff is the right thing to do.

I walked out of the front room and turned around to find him dumping charcoal and ammonia rocks into the tank. *slapping forehead* I didn't mean he could continue trashing the tank!!! So I emptied 10 gallons out to try to clean out the charcoal. Not Ean's fault per say but I did manage to spill water on myself, all this a half hour before Kate's doctors appointment.

I ran Ean over to the neighbors, in his undies because he wouldn't get dressed. He ran home, streakin in Star Wars Underpants, yelling I need clothes, I need clothes, I need clothes.

Another lovely day at my house.