Edie

Introducing, our Eden:

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Five Months Old

Nine Months Old

Now at eleven months old, she's on the verge of walking and will be a big kid before we know it. She's our happiest baby by far, with a smile that takes up her whole face, and an infectious giggle her brothers love to induce. Welcome to the family, Edie!

Educated Decisions

After following "the norm" for years, I started to wonder if there was another, better (for us) way of doing things. I did massive amounts of research and came to discover that the status was not, in fact, quo. Here are a few things that we've decided to do a little differently:

• Car Seats - while RJ & Eli are beyond the legal limits to be facing front in a vehicle, they are still below the height and weight maximums for rear-facing. Since being turned around lowers their risk of serious injury by about 90%, they won't be looking out the windshield for a while. (Also, they LOVE their 'backwards seats'.)
• Vaccines - as a white, middle-class family, with no concerning family history, our risk factors for many vaccinated diseases are incredibly low. Coupled with the much higher risk of negative side effects from injecting preservatives and additives into our bloodstreams, we've chosen to opt out of or delay vaccinations. We've found a wonderfully supportive pediatrician in our area who not only agrees with this decision, but also assists in my research.
• Medicines - instead of handing out antibiotics for childhood illnesses, our pediatrician prescribes essential oils and homeopathic treatments, which is also what we use at home. We've been able to successfully treat many ailments (nausea, swelling & allergic reaction, headaches, gasiness, cold & flu symptoms, etc) naturally, and have seen a quicker, easier recovery in most cases. I still keep a few conventional medicines in the cabinet, just in case, but haven't had need for them in months.

While these things work for our family, they may not be the answer for everyone.

JoJo's Birth Story

Two weeks ago today, I left the boys with Grandpa and headed up to my midwife's office for my weekly appointment; I told them I'd be back in a couple of hours, kissed them goodbye, and asked them to behave well while I was gone. Less than 8 hours later, I was holding their sister in my arms and Nana & Opa were putting them to bed.

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At my midwife appointment, it was determined that my body had progressed to the point that labor was imminent. We talked about 'the plan', since it looked like I would be going into labor in the next day or so. I voiced concern about laboring at home with the boys and being 30-45 minutes from anyone who could help; my midwife could see that I was letting the idea of being in labor at home, alone with two toddlers, get the best of me. She suggested that we consider the option of 'inducing' labor then, which would only consist of breaking my (already bulging) bag of waters and allowing us to labor in the hospital instead of on the highway and to stay in one place instead of trying to move and cope with contractions in the car. Husby and I had already discussed this option that morning, so I readily agreed and headed over to Labor & Delivery.

At about noon, I was admitted to the hospital. Alone. Husby still needed to leave work, pick up my Dad, and bring him to collect my car (which had the only seats for the boys). Our doulas were also on their way, but as I had feared, I was on my own for more than an hour before my 'team' began to assemble. Fortunately, I wasn't technically in labor yet, and was able to answer all of the nurses questions and enjoy a last few minutes of calm before the storm.

Since I was planning an unmedicated birth, I was able to talk the nurses into letting me go without an IV. After Eli's birth, and all the craziness associated with my IV, I was relieved that I didn't have to worry about it. It was understood by all that they had permission to do what was needed in case of an emergency (start an IV, stick me in the thigh, knock me out, whatever), but I was able to be without needles and plastic in my arms for my labor. What a relief!

I was also allowed to wear my own clothes, which I had planned specifically for the type of labor that I wanted. Instead of a hospital gown, which is fairly restricting and uncomfortable, I donned a super soft bikini top and simple black wrap skirt, with a tank top added for some modesty at first. Everything I was wearing could be quickly removed if and when that became necessary, and yet I felt more like myself than some invalid in an institution. (Perception is a huge factor for me in labor!)

At about 12:30, my team was ready and my midwife arrived to break my water. Since I wasn't having steady contractions yet (or really, any at all to speak of), we set out to walk the halls and get Baby Girl moved down into a better birthing position. Without the cushion of her bag of waters, I could feel her head come down as we walked ... and walked ... and walked ... lap upon lap around the Labor & Delivery and Recovery units. Nurses waved and joked with us as we passed them again and again, snacking on some grapes and crackers to keep our energy up.

With a couple of stops back at our room to rest and check my blood pressure, we spent more than 2 hours trying (and failing) to get contractions started. Our doulas suggested a side-lying release to help get my body into a better position, and helped me twist around on the bed to try it out. Right around the same time, we got a new (much friendlier) nurse, who was excited that we were planning to birth "the way they do back home" - she was a midwife in Australia, where epidurals are unheard of and "natural" is also "normal". I loved her immediately, and the stress in the room dissipated instantly. 

We were passing 3 o'clock, and starting the get a little nervous that nothing was happening, when my first contractions hit. I had just sat up from the side-lying release, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and mentioned to our doulas that nothing felt different - and suddenly was hit with three strong contractions in a row. Husby sat on the stool at the side of the bed and I was able to lean into him to work through them. He gently stroked my arms and encouraged me to relax into the pressure.

We knew we wanted to labor (and possibly birth) in the tub, and our nurse set to work getting it all set up. It was suggested that I try to empty my bladder before things got moving too quickly, so Husby and I moved into the bathroom for a few minutes. On the toilet, I was beginning to moan softly to help focus my energy during the peak of a contraction. When started to feel a bit nauseous, and our doulas came to the rescue, spraying oils around the room that calmed both my stomach and my mind. Contractions continued to get stronger, and I asked that the tub be filled so that I could get in soon (I knew it would take 10-15 minutes to fill, and didn't want to wait much longer than that). My midwife asked that she be allowed to check my dilation before I got into the water, just to make sure things were moving like we thought they were, and then stepped out to put on her scrubs. A few contractions later she was back, and we moved to the bed for a check. I had been at 4cm when she broke my water, and as soon as she tried to check my cervix it "melted" into a 7+. She held it there for a contraction, making sure it would stay and continue progressing, and said I was nearly to 8cm by the time she was done. 

With confirmation that things really were moving quickly, I was anxious to get some relief. Before we had moved to the bed, I had begun to fight with myself in my head, arguing for and against some pain medication as the intensity of contractions built. But as soon as I was enveloped in the soothing water those thoughts melted away - the weightlessness and warmth made the contractions exponentially easier to cope through. In the water, my need to vocalize was much less, and my team remarked that they hardly knew when I was contracting - I sat mostly still and fairly quiet between and during each contraction for quite a while. In our peaceful, darkened room, soft music played in the background and labor took over my whole self.

After a few minutes, my midwife suggested changing positions to keep things moving along; I shifted from sitting with my back against the side of the tub to leaning over the edge into Husby's lap. He put a pillow down for me to rest my head, and lightly rubbed my head and arms.

Rocking felt better than being still now, and the movement of the water worked with me to keep a steady rhythm both in and around my contractions. I was told that I could try a mini-push at the peak of a contraction just to see what happened; I tried a couple of times, but the heat of the water was overwhelming and we knew I needed to get out to cool off.

In between what were now very powerful contractions, Husby and my midwife help me move to the bed. I knelt facing the back, my arms draped over the raised head, and tried to push through a few more contractions. The intensity was overwhelming, and I couldn't get on top of my contractions long enough to push effectively.

I heard myself ask if they could just pull her out since I couldn't do it, and then Husby's voice was in my ear reminding me that I was doing it, and she was so close. The team was trying to talk me through flipping over to see if I could push better on my back or side, but before I could process what was being said I had repositioned myself to lay on my left side, just as I had ended up with Eli. My pushes were much more productive this way, and soon I was being alerted to her impending exit. I could feel her descending  but it felt like she was moving much slower than I wanted her to; I stepped up my pushing, and was quickly warned to slow down. There were oils and compresses being applied to help lessen the sting of stretching, but the pressure of her head was too much and I couldn't keep from pushing for very long. Her head slowly emerged, and everyone cheered - except for me, who didn't feel any of the much anticipated relief. One, and then two, agonizing pushes later, her shoulders were born, and then the rest of her in one massive, final push. 

We had been out of the tub for less than 10 minutes, and my baby girl was being placed in my arms. The bliss! The joy! The hilarity of double-checking to see that my girl was, in fact, a girl! "My girl! There's my girl!" was all I could say, and she snuggled into me, all covered in vernix and slippery and wonderful. Her Daddy kissed my forehead, telling me he was so proud of me. "We did it," I whispered to him. "She's here." The look in his eyes said it all - we were both overjoyed and relieved.

Her color was beautiful, and her cries were strong. Husby cut her cord after it had stopped pulsing, and she stayed with me until I began to shiver. I handed her off to snuggle her Daddy while piles of warm blankets were brought in to help me regulate my temperature.

Her placenta was delivered with one small push, and my bleeding was under control with very little help from massage, so I was bundled up and soon had my girl back in my arms.

This was it. We had a daughter. We were a family of five. And we couldn't have been happier.

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Photos courtesy of our wonderful doulas:
Sister Doulas - Kaitlin & Vanessa Manville

Midwife: Aliza Chkaiban

Hospital: Baylor - McKinney

Grand-Daughter

Opa & Nana

Grandpa & Grandma

Big Brothers

The Birth of a Brother

Having arrived at the BirthCare Center for a 7am induction, we went over the birth plan with our doula, MissJ, one last time as the nurse started my IV. Four attempts and a sore arm later, I was hooked up to 500cc of fluid - two veins had blown before the nurse changed over to a smaller catheter and was able to finally get a working connection. She was trying to make things as comfortable as possible for me, but wanted to try again for the larger needle once I was re-hydrated; I was in no mood for more sticks and ready to get things going.

By 8:45am, I was adequately hydrated and able to be unhooked from the fluid lines. My doctor arrived for the induction, and when informed about the trouble we had getting an IV started joked that we would have had an easier time if I had heroin track marks for them to follow. He asked the nurse for his 'fresh stick from the tree out back' with which to break my water - his sense of humor put the room at ease.

Hoping to help speed things along, we went for a walk around the building. But as had been the case for the last few weeks, as long as I was up and moving my contractions were light and easy. Back in the room, I decided to rest in a chair for a few minutes, and before I knew it I was having some pretty strong contractions.

This can't be the real thing yet, we're just getting started. Wait it out, it's only going to get worse.

I didn't last very long sitting by myself - soon I was asking that Husby be nearer, holding me and helping me breathe through each contraction. We had talked about using the bath tub to help relax when things got tough, and before we hit 10 o'clock I was ready to get in. I let go of Husby just long enough for him to get into his trunks (in case he needed to get into the water with me), and settled into the warm tub. With the hand-held shower head pointed at my belly I was able to work through contractions fairly effectively.

Down the hall, another laboring mother coded, and our nurse was pulled to help bring her back. She returned a little shaken, and asked me to re-consider the larger IV catheter 'just in case', since the small one I had wouldn't allow quick administration of drugs should it become necessary. For her sake, I decided to give it another try since my veins should be more cooperative after the fluid I was administered. A young anesthesiologist was sent to do the sticking, since they were supposed to be better at finding good veins quickly.

Just hold on, work through this one contraction and she'll be done. You can do this.

Two failed sticks later, she was annoyed with my being in the tub since it made things harder on her. Contraction after contraction kept me from being able to communicate.

Make her stop! Someone make her stop and get her out of here!

As I finally caught a break from contractions, MissJ reminded me that I could tell her to stop anytime. "No more" was all I could utter as I pulled my arm away from her.

"Are you ready for your epidural now?" Her snotty voice made me want to scream, but my energy was needed elsewhere.

"No. Get out."

I was starting to shiver in the tub, so we decided to get a seat for me to sit up on and get more of my body under the shower. Half way out of the tub another contraction hit me and I landed harder than intended on the seat; it flipped sideways and fell into the tub, taking me with it. I didn't have the will to try again, so a warm blanket was brought in to put over me in the water; Husby and MissJ poured and sprayed water over me and on my belly to keep me from freezing and help me relax.

After about a hour and a half, the intensity of the contractions was really starting to effect my thoughts.

I can't take this if it's just going to get worse.

I heard myself asking for drugs.

Wait! That's not what I want! Don't give me drugs! I can do this!

Husby could see the panic in my eyes, and asked me if I wanted to be checked (we had agreed ahead of time that we would take this first, smaller step before hooking up to any pain meds).

Yes! That's what I mean! I don't want drugs, I just want to know where I am!

To be checked, I had to be in the bed - which meant I had to get out of the tub. Towels and blankets were readied to dry me off and keep me warm, and we waited until a contraction was over to start moving. No sooner did my feet hit the floor than a huge contraction hit, and I went limp. With MissJ in front of me and Husby behind they managed to keep me from hitting the floor until I could support myself again and make my way to the bed.

I needed to lay on my back in the bed, but only made it up onto my hands and knees before another contraction hit. The nurse tried anyway, and thought I was about at 7cm, but asked me to try to roll over so she could be sure. A couple more contractions passed before I could move, but once I was settled she confirmed that I was already almost at 8cm.

That can't be right. We haven't been doing this long enough.

My brain knew that we were already in Transition, the hardest but shortest part of labor, just before the pushing stage. But my mind was reeling with the intensity of the contractions, and I again heard myself asking for something to take the edge off. MissJ was ready with the suggestion of Stadol, which wouldn't make the contractions themselves less intense but would give me more of a break in between to catch my breath and relax - it was the one thing I had considered beforehand, and was prepared to accept if needed given it's minimal effects on the baby. Since I was already so far along (and just wouldn't admit it to myself), my doctor would only approve a quarter of the usual dose. Administered during a contraction to further lessen it's effect on the baby, I felt it almost immediately - as long as I kept my eyes open I was alert, but as soon as I let them close I started to doze when I wasn't contracting. Thanks to the Stadol, I was allowed about a half an hour of 'rest' before the real work began.

The contractions started coming three and four at a time, and I was having to really work to get through each one. To cope with the intensity, I had been breathing low and started vocalizing with my exhales. As the intensity rose, and my breaks shortened (the Stadol was wearing off), my vocalizations began to get higher and tighter. Reminding me to focus low and slow my breathing, MissJ could see that we needed a change and suggested using a squat bar.

Once I was upright, Baby flipped himself around to face upwards, causing intense back labor. MissJ moved around behind me to help support and put counter pressure where I was hurting. Husby moved in front of me to help hold me up, and my eyes locked on his just as one of my toughest contractions hit. My vocalizations were high and tight as my body fought against me.

Don't freak out. If you freak out, he'll freak out, and we need him to not freak out.

His calm voice brought me back: "You can do this. I'm right here. You're doing so well."

My legs no longer able to support me, I laid back on MissJ, who's knee happened to land just at the point in my back that needed counter pressure. I had planned to rest for only a moment but ended up staying there for quite a few contractions. A second nurse appeared and began preparing tables and instruments; I heard myself asking what she was doing, and was told that she was setting up for delivery.

She's got to be crazy. She has no idea that we just got here. We are so not ready to have this baby.

The idea of readying for the birth, along with the rising intensity of contractions, began to overwhelm me and I again asked to be checked. Our nurse was out of the room, so the second nurse stopped her setting up and came over to see how far I was. She measured me at about 8cm, essentially the same as I had been an hour before. I was disappointed to say the least.

We're not even progressing! What does she think she's doing setting up all that stuff? Now I have to stare at useless tables for hours!

When she returned, our nurse held a fetal monitor to my belly and detected decels in Baby's heart rate. She helped me move to lay on my left side to alleviate some stress on him - in an instant, my contractions changed. Up to this point, I was able to focus on being open and relaxed with each contraction. Now, when I tried to be open, my body started pushing on it's own. Since I knew I wasn't to 10cm yet, I tried to pull back and keep from pushing, but it only made things more intense. When a contraction ended, I tried to tell Husby and MissJ that I couldn't stop myself from pushing. I looked up to find my doctor walking in to check on us. He quickly slipped his gloves on to check me; he felt merely a rim, but said I could easily push past what was left, and that was all I needed to hear.

Here we go. Deep breaths. Holy cow, we're going to have a baby.

With the next contraction, I pushed with intent. Being able to feel what I was doing, I could focus my energy where I knew it was effective. As I felt Baby descend, my doctor helped him to turn back into an easier position; I gripped Husby's hand a little tighter. His voice encouraged me that I was making progress, and with MissJ's help I repositioned myself for the birth.

Through two or three contractions I pushed continuously, and before I really knew what was happening, my son was born. LittleE joined us at 1:27pm, weighing 8lbs 13oz and measuring 20 inches long. Placed immediately on my chest, he looked up at us, his parents, for the first time, and my heart swelled.

Birth Plans

In preparations for Baby Boy's impending arrival, Husby and I have been taking classes and reading up on all things natural. Both startling and surprising are the facts that surround that way babies are born, especially in our 'educated' nation. Arming ourselves with a knowledgeable, experienced birth team, and taking the time to research all possibilities and options, we're confident that this birth will be quite different (and safer for both Momma and Baby) than our first. While RJ's birth seemed perfectly normal at the time (and, in deed, it was 'normal' by American standards), we've since learned much more about how childbirth is supposed to happen - naturally - and are hopeful that we'll be able to put that knowledge to work for us in the coming weeks. We've found a wonderfully supportive doctor and hospital, have hired a Doula to assist us in labor, and wrote out our birth plan to help guide us to the birth experience we desire. And while we know that things can change as we go along - even up to the last few moments of pregnancy - we pray that we'll be able to follow through with our plans and deliver a healthy baby boy in the end.

Owies

Over the course of today, I managed to traumatize my child multiple times. Mother of the year? Not me.

At lunch, I spilled my entire drink on him (he was crawling at my feet, having just finished his meal, while I was finishing mine). He was none too happy about being suddenly wet and sticky, and while still wearing his clothes, but a quick whisk into the tub for a clean-up dried those tears.

Not more than an hour later, his fingers got caught in the door as I was trying to close it. I quickly scooped him up for a snuggle, but it took quite some coaxing to get him calmed down again. Once he stopped screaming, he settled in with his blankie and napped for a bit. I noticed a rather swollen finger when he woke, called the pediatrician, and got him right in to be seen. Unsure of exactly how much damage may have been done, she ordered an X-ray of his hand. 

Being 13 months old, he needed someone to hold him still. Being 27 weeks pregnant, I was not eligible for the job. Being at PT and unreachable, Husby was unable to come to our rescue. Enter sweet female sergeant willing to cuddle my screaming child and attempt to keep him from moving while a picture is taken of his now-purple finger. It was so very sweet of her to volunteer, but I think both she and RJ were a little worse for wear afterwards. We're still waiting to hear how the films came out, but no news is good news in the situation.

Finally home from the clinic, it was time for dinner, bath, and bed. But my poor little man just couldn't catch a break! On his way out of the tub, he slipped, bumped his chin, and bit his tongue. Sad and tired, it didn't take much to get him to sleep tonight; hopefully he'll wake up tomorrow thinking that today was just a bad dream.

Double Ear Infection

As an only child (thus far), RJ has few others to share with than Momma and Daddy. So when he wants to practice his sharing skills (and this is encouraged, as we'd like him to be a nice boy), I am usually the one on the receiving end of his gifts. I've been given many a paci, blankie, toy truck, spoon, and so-forth, but the gift he's shared with me the last few days has been the most unnecessary. 

Thank you, my son, but you really could have kept the sinus infection to yourself.

A doctor visit confirmed that not only have I contracted the sinus infection RJ is just getting over, but that it's moved into my ears, leaving me with a double ear infection and 10 days of antibiotics. Is it my day off yet?

Sick, Again

RJ's little body doesn't think he's seen enough doctors lately, and so developed a nasty cough to encourage me to find a new pediatrician. The clinic on-base handles all referrals, so we headed there first this morning to see about getting him seen. Two hours - and multiple visits to the same three offices - later, we finally got all the paperwork sorted out for us to be covered here in Kansas and no longer in Mississippi. We were allowed to see a nurse, who then tried to convince me that my child isn't actually sick and thus doesn't need to see a doctor. Um, no. There was no way I was going to accept that, and after kindly arguing with her for quite a few minutes, she reluctantly sent us to a neighboring town for an appointment with a family practitioner.

Less than two minutes with an actual doctor yielded a diagnosis of both a sinus infection and mild bronchitis. Um, yeah. That's what I thought, crazy base-clinic nurse. Prescriptions in hand, we arrived home tired and sad, ready for nap time. Get well soon, buddy. Momma misses her happy boy.

Class of 2011

We are proud to announce Aunt Boo's graduation from High School! 

One over-two-hour ceremony later, she's officially a graduate and couldn't be happier.

RJ, Daddy, Momma, Auntie K, Auntie A & Baby Kay, Uncle A
Grandma, Aunt Boo, and Grandpa

RJ, unfortunately, didn't fare quite as well today. The Texas heat got to him, and our poor baby boy ended up overheating. The drive home from Graduation was accompanied by much complaining and a bought of throwing up, followed by a fever we just couldn't bring down. Being away from home, and thus without a pediatrician, Husby and I decided to take him up to the local ER (again) just to be sure there wasn't anything else to be concerned about. The doctors and nurses poked and prodded him, checked his mouth injury to make sure it wasn't infected, and prescribed 'round-the-clock Tylenol to keep the fever down. He just can't catch a break.

Owie

Playing on the floor at Auntie A's house this morning, RJ slipped and bumped his face on the hardwood. A fair amount of bleeding commenced, but after a few minutes he seemed to be doing just fine.

Throughout the day, his mouth would occasionally begin bleeding again, only to quickly stop on it's own. His paci was used more than usual, but I didn't really think anything of it. After all, he was probably still a little sad from his spill and could use the comfort it provided.

After lunch, bleeding was noticed again, and I began to worry. Husby, who had been in Kansas for the last week, we now on his way to see us for the weekend, and had voice strong concern when told of how his son's day was going. Being without a pediatrician, our only way to have him checked was a trip to the local ER. Grandpa came along with us for moral support, and we checked in for a check-up.

Fortunately, the ER was fairly empty, and we were seen right away. After less than an hour, we were discharged with a prescription for an antibiotic "just in case". It seemed that he had badly bruised his front upper gums and inner lip, but nothing was torn to the point of needing stitches. Lessening the paci use was recommended, as it may have been aggravating the bleeding and causing him to swallow instead of spit his blood (which he had begun spitting up just before he went to the hospital). 

Back at Grandma's, he seems to be himself again after a dose of Tylenol, and so far, all is well. We'll keep a close eye on him over the next few days, but he seems to be bouncing back just fine.

Sickness

Last night, RJ and I spent a couple our hours in the ER. He had been sick before dinner, and then spiked a fever of 100.5 before bath time. One cool bath later, his fever was 101.7. Not being able to get ahold of his pediatrician after hours, I called my mom for advice. She agreed that a check at the hospital was our best option, and off we went.

The ER's prescription was Tylenol and a good night's sleep; 9 hours and one mid-night dosing later, he was fever-less and doing much better this morning. An extra afternoon nap (necessitated by a 99.9 at 4pm) and a long, fun bath ended our day on a good note. Now if he'll just sleep through the night we might be over whatever it was that invaded our lives.

20 Weeks

Momma's Belly - 20 weeks

Halfway through this pregnancy, today was our second ultrasound. Baby is big enough now that details are identifiable - including those of the gender variety. After an hour of examining all of Baby's other parts, the technician invited Husby and RJ in for the big reveal: 

we're having a baby brother!

Baby Boy - 20 weeks
(Not his best angle, but proof that there's a baby in there!)

We're all so very excited to add another little boy to our family - the men especially. I will admit that my mommy instincts told me this baby was going to be a girl, but bring on the testosterone. I have enough female emotions for this family, and boys are what I know. It looks like you won't be seeing any pink in our home anytime soon.

A Change of Plans

Just as my siblings were leaving yesterday, our dear cousin arrived [they missed each other by that much!]. She and her mom, our Great-Aunt chauffeur, have enjoyed having RJ to play with. I am eternally grateful for their willingness to spend time with him, since I have had many other duties which begged my time today.

Our morning was spent readying and loading furniture to move into Great-Grandpa's new home at the assisted living center. We arrived on-site with our fully-loaded trailer to find his room empty of the borrowed furniture the center had been letting him use until now, ready and waiting for us to get him settled. The men set to work bringing up piece after piece and setting them in the hallway, as a nurse had just arrived to check on Great-Grandpa and give him his lunchtime meds. Since my present condition prevents me from carrying heavy furniture, I was able to sit in on the 'exam', listen to the nurse's remark, and ask a few clarifying questions; much detail was gleaned which has previously been unknown to many of us. As the visiting nurse left, we escorted Great-Grandpa down to the dining hall for his noon meal and began setting up his room for him. Before we knew it, the resident nurse came to talk to us, alerting us to the discussion she had with his doctor and the visiting nurse and their decision to send him to the hospital for a few days - he had been retaining water quite severely, and there was concern for a more forceful approach to remedy the situation.

Some shuffling of peoples was needed before we could head to the hospital, but there wasn't an urgent need for him to be seen immediately. We were able to take RJ back to Grammy's house for a nap with a Great-Aunt and cousin to keep an eye on him. Grammy, Grandpa and I then went back to the center to pick up Great-Grandpa and get him checked-in at the local ER. The center sent with us a write-up of his condition and recommendations for treatment, and we were soon taken back to a room for a few tests. It was determined that he would need to be admitted, but the process could take a few hours, so he sent us away to get some dinner. 

Once we were all fed and RJ was bathed and in bed for the night, we were able to again leave him under my Great-Aunt's care and return to the hospital to see about the admission progress and Great-Grandpa's prognosis. We arrived just as they were finishing up all the paperwork and were able to walk with him up to his room in the Vascular Unit. Once he was settled, we learned from his nurse that his heart was a concern as well - a condition we were previously unaware of. As of now, he is being carefully monitored and his nurses will update us as they can.

Originally, the plan was for us leave town this evening, off on our next adventure. However, given the circumstances, we've decided to stay the night and re-evaluate in the morning. If things are still going well, as they seem to be now, we'll be on our way before noon. For now, we just wait and see.

Before heading to the hospital, we took time for a quick photo 

of Great-Grandpa with RJ, myself, and my dear cousin.

RJ enjoyed some quality play time while Momma was away:

Nursemaid's Elbow

This morning, we were playing on the Big Bed while Daddy got ready for work. Like the escape artist he strives to be, RJ climbed over me and was headed for the floor when I grabbed his arm to keep him from falling and hurting himself. I heard [and felt] a pop in his arm, but I didn't really think anything of it. Joints pop, no big deal, and it wasn't a first for him. But this time he cried. And cried. And wouldn't stop crying. I cradled and loved him, snuggled him close, but it didn't seem to help. And then I noticed that he wasn't using his right arm - the one I had a hold of when he was falling. The dread set in; I tried to move it for him, which only made the crying worse. All I could think was that I had dislocated his arm somehow - how was I going to explain this to his doctor without making them think that my child was being abused? What kind of parent injures their child? I saw my Mother-of-the-Year award flying out the window, and with it, my sanity. My first priority was getting help for my child - I could worry about what the hospital would do to me later.

I called Peds clinic on base, but there were no appointments available today. They recommended a visit to the ER, so we packed up and headed out. RJ had calmed down quite a bit, as long as his arms wasn't bothered, but there was no way to get him into his car seat without aggravating whatever was hurting him. My poor boy screamed a little louder when I buckled him in, and my heart ached a little more. What had I done to my baby?

Getting him out of his seat was just about as bad as getting him in had been, and the tears were still coming when we walked into the ER. The nurse took us right back to examine him. She tried a grab test to see if he would use his arm, but the boy who usually wants to take anything you'll hand him would have nothing to do with anything that came near his right hand. We were taken back to see the doctor, who tried the same test to see if he liked her 'toys' better. No go. She had me gently squeeze up his arm to see where the pain was, and he was sure to let us know that his elbow was not happy about that. She took his hand and moved it around, bent his elbow, straightened his arm, and then tried to hand him another 'toy'. And just like that, I had my curious boy back - he reached out with his right hand and snatched it out of her hand. 

The doctor diagnosed him with a case of Nursemaid's Elbow - by keeping his from falling on his head, I had accidentally pulled his elbow out of joint. Knowing that my child wasn't going to need a cast and I wasn't on trial for inflicting this ailment on him turned a terrifying ordeal into just one of the many trips I'm sure we'll make to the ER in years to come.

RJ has been perfectly fine ever since. He doesn't even seem to remember that his arm was hurt earlier today. We're right back to play time and snacks, with no looking back.

Universal Healthcare

As a military spouse, I am afforded government-funded healthcare. Thus, when I awoke this [early] morning with a terribly sore throat and headache, I was able to call the base hospital and schedule an appointment with the Internal Medicine Clinic. My Primary Care Manager is actually the Family Practice Clinic, but as they had no availability today I was sent to Internal.

When I called at 0715, the nurse scheduled me at 0845. We arrived at 0830 [as per the standard 'please arrive 15 minute early' request], baby in hand [though he should have been home napping, but I didn't feel up to driving and Husby wanted to accompany me], flashed our IDs, stated that we were there for an 0845 slot, and were told that the appointment had been moved to 1045 - the doctor I was supposed to see wasn't even going to be in until 1030. Since we were already there, I asked if there was any way they could get me in early [and why hadn't anyone called me when they moved my appointment?]. Upon further investigation, it was discovered that the clerk was looking at the wrong last name [hadn't I just flashed my ID?], and that her book said that I had canceled my appointment. According to her log, I had called back that same minute and canceled the appointment [even if I had called back, it's impossible to get through the automated system to the person who would cancel an appointment in that short amount of time]. Looking further, she found that whoever I was speaking to when I unconsciously called back had rescheduled that appointment for 1445. Fine. We would just go home, feed the baby, take naps, and be back at 1430. No problem. Oh, but problem: that slot didn't really exist. The clerk - who at this point was about as frustrated as I - went about looking for any slot n which to put me that day. 1500 was all she could find, and we took it. She even wrote me a little card: "Dr. Baker @ 1500". Home we went, to return in six hours.

We returned at 1445, only to be told that the appointment was actually at 1515. Argh. We took a seat, and attempted to entertain Little Man while we waited. And waited. For 45 minutes. Finally, at 1530, I was called back to an exam room - but the boys weren't allowed to accompany me. Daddy would have to hold down the Little Man fort alone, but it shouldn't be too long [and really, he's a great dad, so I wasn't worried]. So they waited. And waited. And waited. At 1645, two hours after arriving at the clinic [for the second time that day], I was sent home with a prescription for a Z-Pak and Tylenol. Of the hour plus I spent in the exam room, only about 15 minutes were spent with the doctor, who didn't do anything the nurse hadn't already done. Another 30 minutes were with the rather rude nurse, who administered my strep test [*choke*], shared way too much personal information, and told me I should be using birth control until my son is older since I wouldn't want my children to be too close together [excuse me?!]. The rest of the time, I sat in a chair, head laid back against the wall, wishing I could be home in my bed.

While my care is technically 'free', I certainly paid to be seen today - in time, tears [I wasn't happy when we were sent home the first time], and tolerance. And this was not an isolated insident - many military members and their families have reported similar experiences. But, this is what you get when the governmental bureaucracy is running things. 

It's no wonder I'm against Universal Healthcare.

Not-so-Urgent Emergency

Poor Little Man has been under the weather, and the worrier in me felt the need to take him to the doctor. He's been congested and coughing, occasionally having a hard time breathing, and I was concerned. Add to that his vomiting this morning at breakfast, and I knew he needed to be seen today. The only problem was that there were no appointments available with the Pediatric clinic. Unsure of my other options, I called the TriCare desk. "Oh, just take him to the Emergency room", she told me. Even though it's not really an emergency? Apparently, that's what you do here. So, I packed up my baby boy and called Husby to let him know we were going to the hospital. A frightened Daddy met us at the door, checked on his son, and helped me get us registered. Once I had a chance to explain the whole situation, Husby relaxed a bit; his son was not truly in an emergent situation.

Little Man was feeling better by the time we were seen, and we felt a little silly having brought our smiling, waving child to the Emergency room. Still, we wanted to be sure that he wasn't developing an ear or sinus infection, or had come down with something more serious than a common cold. After a full examination, it was determined that he's fine. A few nasal saline drops and a bulb syringe will clear him right up, and he should be back to normal in a few days. We've been sent home with simple instructions, and it's up to me to help him feel better. I'm praying that my Mommy instincts kick in and take over ...

Special Delivery

When Little Man was born, he was awarded a shirt from our doctor, marking him as a "Special Delivery". Said shirt was sized for a 6-9 month old, and thus has been biding it's time until Little Man was big enough to wear it. Today is your day, little shirt, and he wears you proudly.

"Specially Delivered by Dr, Roberts"

Check-up

Having recently turned the corner into the second half of his first year, Little Man was due for his six-month appointment today. Unfortunately for him, this was another visit which included immunizations. Fortunately for him, however, his Mama & Daddy were right there to hold his hands and make it all better.

Weighing in at 14 pounds, and measuring 25 inches, he's back on the charts! Although he's only at the 5th percentile so far, he's making progress and will be catching up with the other babies in no time.