Happy Halloween from the Danger Family

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

Jazz Hands!

So. Long story short, we wound up having to be induced because of the gestational diabetes.  I felt pretty bad about it at first, but at the end I came to terms with the fact and sucked it up.  It went really slow at first because I needed to be on antibiotics  for the GBS for at least four hours before anything could really happen (this totally sucked!  Almost more than the labor in general.  Huge doses of Penicillin straight into your IV?!  NO THANKS).  So we wait the four hours, then they up the Pitocin.  Then they up it again, and again, and again.  Nothing doing.  So my midwife decides to break my water, to get him to slide on in to home.  She broke my water somewhere around 11:30 ish. I was at 5 cm.  One hour later, while they were all eating lunch, I needed to push.  NOW.  This is where it all got a little dicey.  I pushed a few times and bingo bango- there's the head.  (All ye with peni and/or weak stomachs- STOP HERE)  His head passed fine, then the next thing I know everyone is screaming at me to stop pushing stop pushing stop pushing!!!  The pain was excruciating.  I was screaming- not labor noises, screaming.  My first two were natural, vaginal, medication free deliveries.  This one was induced, yes, but still epidural free.  But this was not normal pain.  It hurt bad, the bad like something is wrong.  Turns out it was a culmination of things. One- his shoulders did get stuck after all.  On top of that, I have a prolapsed uterus, which means that my cervix never really moved out of the way 100% (sorry folks).  Next thing I know, there are three sets of hands all up in my bidness, pulling and tugging and yanking, and then he was here!

And I heard nothing.  Not one yell, not one squea

k, not one yelp.  When they got him up on my chest he was blue.  Scary blue.  Too blue.  And he was just staring at me, wide eyed.  I kept yelling, why isn't he crying?!  Why isn't he crying?  Why is he so blue?!  As the nurse tries to convince me that he is fine, as she places an oxygen mask on his brand new little baby face.

They took him, and Cory went over to the baby nest with him, and then I heard it.  That glorious newborn baby yelp and I looked up and he was fine, just as pink as can be.

Here he is.  Mr. Owl.  8 lbs 7 ozs. (TINY!) 20 inches.  at 12:47 p.m.

So that's labor.  You know the rest.  Placenta, clean up, yada yada....

Cory and I go to bed that night with Mr. Owl. Everything is fine.  Until he spits up.  And then he spits up again.  And again.  Each time it is more and more, and I'm thinking, you know- he is spitting up more than he ate.  This is not right.  The doctor came to make rounds the next morning, just as she is discharging him, he vomits.  PROFUSELY. Twice. All over himself.  And it is this weird color and consistency.  Read- not ok.  So she calmly says to us that she is going to have to keep him for observation.  We say ok, no big deal right.  Until she wheels him into the NICU.

Cory and I packed for two nights in the hospital.  We packed going home out fits for everyone.   We packed his new blankie.  We were ready.  But how in the hell do you prepare for the NICU?

I will save you the details, plus I just don't want to recap them again. But it was terrible.  To see him in there like that, with wires and leads, in an incubator, with tubes down his throat and nose, and a huge I.V. in his teeny tiny little hands.  The nurses in the NICU were great.  One just held me like a gramma and let me bawl my eyes out on her shoulder.  Once he was off the I.V. and could eat again, they let me come in every two hours to breastfeed him and just actually hold him and touch him, which was hard because of all the stuff attached to him.  But man, I loved just getting to hold him and feed him and talk to him.

Thank God he is ok.  And now, in the grand scheme of things, and in comparison to some of the other families I met in the NICU, really it was nothing.  He is totally fine.  It was some sort of a G.I. obstruction.  Now?  He is eating, pooping, and peeing like a champ.  But I promised him there that I will try my damnedest to never again let anything hurt him like that.  Life lessons? Ok sometimes those sting a little.  But those are good.  But NICU pain? For me and for him? Never again.

Between that promise, and the fact that he is the youngest, I figure he's got it made.

xoxo,

J.Danger

Oops

I meant to post this yesterday, for WW, but I forgot.  So here you have it.  For TT- Thinking Thursday?  I don't know....for all of you that have been thinking of me?

Lame.

Me and the bean at 40 weeks.  Which means I am done with this pregnancy.  So.  WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU ELLIOTT?!

But seriously, thanks to everyone that has been emailing, twittering, FBing me and everything.  I know I joke about how annoying it is to constantly be asked if I have popped yet, just to sob and say no, but really- I love you guys and appreciate it.

Soon, super soon.

Meanwhile, if you want to follow me on Twitter, and follow the big event you can find me here.

Thanks guys-

xoxo,

J. Danger

Anticipa-a-a-a-a-tion

Waiting- noun- a period of waiting; pause, interval or delay.

Adjective- serving or being in attendance

Idiom- In waiting, in attendance, as upon a royal personage

So, if this kid comes out a damn king, then this will all make sense.  Because that's all we are all doing around here.  Waiting on him!

Anyone that has kids knows how this goes.  Every single time I make a phone call I am greeted with, "are you in labor?!"  Swear to god, even the Terminix man.

And heaven forbid I make a phone call and NOT leave a message.  Then it is the child birth apocalypse!

And everyone is giving me the dates that work well for them if I go into labor.  Mom has inventory, mother in law has jam packed work weeks, husband has all kinds of important stuff.

You know when is good for me?

NOW.

But I did it.  I ate my way OUT of a C-Section.  Which means that I get to birth my bebah naturally again.  Which I am super stoked on.  So when he gets here, he gets here.

Just, please....please little bebah bean, come before the 27th.  Mama's got class!

And I swear to god, if you wait until the ONLY day that I cannot possible have you, then I will be pissed!  And that will just set the tone for the rest of our relationship. And if you come out making your middle brother look like HE is eager to please, well sir....I will have words for you-  Your Highness.

XOXO,

J.Your Mama Danger

Revenge is a dish best served with a Medical Degree

Earlier this week my friend Jenn had her adorable little smooshy faced baby, Jack.

That's him, right there- in her belly.

This made me VERY happy, for several reasons.  1- He is adorable.  2- I got to smell little newborn baby head, which is my absolutely hands down favorite smell EVER.  3- This reminds me that Jenn and I are only a few weeks apart, so I am NEXT bitches!

So I have spent the past few days driving (the worst commute EVER!) to and from the hospital to visit and cuddle and coo.  Yesterday, I am waddling into the hospital's main entrance, heading towards the mega elevators they have for the pregos.  You know, the ones that can hold 5,000 pounds at once? Gracefully?  Those.  And two seconds after I walk in, this super nice grey haired little ole volunteer lady (I swear I think I saw her reading New Moon!!!!!) came barreling towards me with a wheelchair.  THAT is how freaking pregnant I am folks.  Pathetic.

So, after screaming at my hard of hearing yet quick with the wheelchair Team Edward cohort that I indeed am NOT in labor and therefore do not need the Porsche of the Elders, who do I see strutting down the super important doctors only past this point hall way?

I see YOU, Mr. had a crush on Mama Dangerous when she was 16 and then got super weird and stabby revenge-y when I politely (not so much) told you that I was actually not that into you after all.

Oh hai!

He did not see me, thank GOD, because none of my shirts cover my bulging belly anymore, which is totally NOT hot.  I also had no makeup on, and I am pretty sure that my bra was all over the place, AND the excitement over the little babies makes my boobs leak EVERY.SINGLE.TIME.

Oh yea, and there is the fact that YOU ARE NOW A GOD DAMN DOCTOR!

Which is funny, because I distinctly remember him telling me that the only reason I was not into him at the wise old age of 16 was because I liked "Bad Boys"  on motorcycles with tattoos and funny hair, and that "Bad Boys" will only get me into trouble.

Oh ya?

Well guess what Mr. Smarty Doctor Pants.

This one, this one right here?

 Not so much trouble.  Only marriage, babies, and a happily ever after.

And- he has GREAT hair.

Showed you!

xoxo,

J.Danger

WW: and baby got low low low...

And the waiting begins....

I'm so emo, I could join his team

So, there is a drawback to having a substantial gap in age between your children.

I am about to give birth to an infant, while parenting a three year old, and (trying to) raise a pre-teen.

Ouch.

I am not prepared for this.  I do not know what to do.  He has become a totally different person overnight.

Half of me wants to just ignore him, I am not even going to lie.  I mean this kid is rough!  Mean. Crabby, hormonal, pissy, and SMELLY.

But the other half of me?  Misses my baby.

Where has he gone?!  I never see him anymore, unless he needs food, money, or a ride.  When he is home and in the family room, it is to snap at someone, or pick a fight with whoever is in arms reach.  He gets phone calls all day long, and so many friends stopping by that when I get sick of it, I make it look like no one is home and ignore the doorbell.  Which, oh my GAWD, it is too hot right now to close up all the shutters!

His face is breaking out.

His armpits REEK.

He worries about what he is wearing.

He notices GIRLS, and then points them out to me.

When did this happen?!  In any given day, even just a thirty minute span, I careen from potty mess clean ups to hormonal outbreaks over not having Ramen noodles!  And I am the hormonal pregnant one in these parts folks!

But now, I miss the baby stage.  I miss when he toddled behind me asking "Why why why".  I miss when he used to get excited about visiting me at work for ice cream sundaes.  Or when he loved being the only kindergartner sitting in on my college classes.  Now he won't even be seen with me in public!

So my solution?  I am still not sure.  I go back and forth between hiding from my children to read Twilight and play Bubble Blaster, and crying to my husband about (damn near anything) having more children A.S.A.P.

It is a double edged sword folks, and I am getting both sides.

XOXO,

J.Danger