I'd eat chocolate for you, too.

Today Amaya is 4 weeks old. That's 28 days or a little over 672 hours. Where on earth did all of that time go? Now, I realize that half of this time I was in a Percocet induced haze, but what about the other 20,160 minutes? And how is it that on any given day it feels as if time is crawling, but somehow it still seems like the month has flown by?

Anyway, my little pumpkin has been a pill these last few days. She's beyond fussy and doesn't want to take naps during the day. She's also ravenous--eating 3 ounces of formula about every two hours--sometimes she even has 4 or 5 ounces. The girl must have some kind of disease. Maybe holeinherstomachitis? Or possibly the lesser known bigpiggywhoisgoingtoturnintoachubboerosis? Do you suppose there is a cure or course of treatment approved for either of these illnesses? Oh google...


Google offered no salvation for this particular problem, so here I am once again feeding the black hole in her belly when I notice three new blemishes on the little cherub's face. This discovery reminds me of how her pediatrician had said that at 1 month the hormones that I so generously shared with her would begin to rage and cause her little baby skin to erupt in acne that could rival any teenager's skin woes. And suddenly I am able to put all of the pieces together--cranky, binge eating, bad skin--my little pudding pop is having her first bout of PMS! Well, maybe it should be PPPPPMS as the M is quite a few years away.

Having made a definitive diagnosis, I begin to ponder the possible cures. The obvious answer would be to give her the same medicine that works for me when I too am suffering from the monthly monster, but somehow I don't think she's quite old enough for fudge brownies and sappy movies. But wait--Brain Flash! Since it's really my hormones in her body creating all the fuss, maybe I should eat the brownie for her? It will be a sacrifice to be sure, but I'm willing to suffer for the well being of my daughter. That's just the kind of Mama I am.

It's an acquired taste

Little man is going through a ketch-up phase. If you'd like to avoid a dinner meltdown, it is imperative that every plate set before Chase have a pile of ketch up somewhere on it. Doesn't matter if he's eating a hot dog or zucchini--there must be ready access to the tomato flavored goop--and yes, he actually dips all of his food in it and eats it. Don't believe me? You must know that I would attain photographic proof before making such wild claims.


Behold the blueberry smothered in red, sugary goodness.



Now, shudder with revulsion as he plops the delicacy into his mouth.



Be amazed at the look of glee that comes over him as his stomach works to digest the offending matter.


His sister can't take it--she must hide from the scene in order to save herself. You may be feeling the same way. You have our permission to go hide behind your own cap now.

So fresh and so clean

Here are a couple pictures from Amaya's first bath. She wasn't what you would call a fan of the water, but she was all about the warm, fluffy towel. She enjoyed her second bath more--maybe because the water was a tad bit warmer. She must be cold blooded like her mama.

Observations from the ER waiting room

In my last post, I forgot to mention that we were in the Wood visiting my parents. That is why I had to go to the ER to be treated, and also why I had to return to the ER two days later for my recheck. I'm sure when I go to my OB on Monday, she's going to tear a strip off of me for traveling so soon after major abdominal surgery, but I'll deal with that when the time comes. Anyway, back to the tale of my follow up visit to Ruby's ER...
I arrived at the hospital at 2 pm. I knew that I was going to be there for a while when I noticed that the triage nurse had a stack of sign in sheets half an inch thick. I filled out my own paper, slipped it under the window and found the comfiest, most isolated seat in the waiting room. I hate sitting next to strangers--especially those visiting an ER on a Tuesday afternoon. In the 4.5 hours that I sat in the waiting room I observed the following things:

• Half of the people waiting reeked of alcohol. It is possible that they self-medicated themselves on the way to the hospital to alleviate their pain and suffering. It is also possible that I can win $35 Million playing power ball this week.
  

• Pregnant women having contractions and violent, mentally handicapped patients are the first to be seen. "Patients" who are there to attempt to get out of work may never get seen.

• A high school boy's main purpose in life is to always "be cool". For instance, if said teen happens to get a phone call while he's waiting to be called back to the ER, the conversation might go something like this:
  

What up Dave?
Dave answers
Yea can you tell coach I won't make it to practice tonight?
Dave speaks, I assume he asks why not.
Well, I cut my thumb off today. ( said very nonchalantly)
Dave responds--also being a teen boy he probably said "that's cool"
Yea tell coach I should be there tomorrow. Later.

• There are a lot of creepy men in an ER waiting room. If one of them tells you to smile more because someone so beautiful should always be smiling--try to refrain from hitting him over the head with the novel that you smartly remembered to bring along. It's best to give a half smile and move away--preferably toward the security guard.
  

• When after 4.5 hours of waiting with a pounding caffeine withdrawal headache, you are finally called back to be examined, you get very excited and feel almost like you did win that $35 million. When the nurse tells you that triage neglected to mention that you were a recheck and that you should have been seen hours ago--that overjoyed feeling quickly dissipates. When the doctor comes in two minutes later and tells you that your incision shows signs of healing and to keep doing what you're doing, a semi-happy feeling returns. It might be happier if you hadn't just spent a good portion of your day waiting for what resulted in a 10 minute exam, and you still have to ride in the car for an hour just to get home. When you can't get in that car until your husband arrives 15 minutes later, you are slightly inconvenienced as smile guy now has you cornered outside the ER telling you his life story while you frantically look for an escape. When your husband buys his starving wife a Hardee's Hot Ham n Cheese and large Diet Coke, the world is once again a happy place.
  

Double Infections

Ugh. So yea. Remember me complaining about how this recovery was not going quite as smoothly as it had with Chase. Well, that would be because my incision is infected. But that's not all, oh no. I also have another UTI--most likely from the catheter that I had in the hospital. We spent all night last night in two different ERs, and now I have two different antibiotics and orders to drink 3-4 quarts of liquid a day--that's a lot of water dude. Double ugh. I am just ready to be be better now, please. So before I start feeling too sorry for my hormonal self, let's all look at a picture of the little bundle of joy that brought me all this pain. I suppose the little lady is worth it--as long as I don't have to change too many poopy diapers. :-)

Then and Now

September 2006

August 2008

Observations and Factoids

Regarding Amaya:

• She likes her pacifier and can scream quite loudly when it falls from her mouth during nap time.
• She also likes to be bundled tightly, so that she's all snuggly warm. Chase did not really enjoy the swaddle. She also likes wearing her cap--another item of which Chase was not fond.
• She has very long fingers and toes. I mean really long. She's like a puppy that needs to grow into its paws. Those same fingers also have a very strong grip--vise like.
  
• She eats like a champ--with very little spit up. Chase, as you'll remember, was the reflux king.
• She's a pretty easy going soul so far. The only times that she cries are when she's hungry, needs changed, lost her paci, or someone has rudely awaken her from her slumber.
  
• Finally, she's pretty darn cute I have to say.
  

Regarding Chase:

• He is attached to Grandma via an invisible two year old sized umbilical cord. He doesn't mind if anyone else holds Amaya , but "AmMa" must not pay attention to the baby. Only him.
  
• He appears to be grumpy with me, as he's barely given me any thought or concern for the past day and a half. This hurts my heart of course. On the other hand, the few times he has made an effort to acknowledge my existence, he's inadvertently bumped into my belly or incision line and brought a burst of pain to my super sore abdomen. So, it's probably a good thing he isn't having a Mommy attachment time.
  
• He's not too sure what he thinks of his sister yet. He pretty much ignores her. However, on occasion he remembers that she is here and babbles something about baby sleeping. He's also been very helpful in the feeding department when he very gently places the bottle on her legs or next to her belly. He also likes to hand her toys to her and makes sure that her baby ipod continues to play its tunes.
  
• He keeps asking where "AmPa" is. He's keeping his visit in his memory as he goes around saying "Wow Wee" to everything he sees.
• He has been in a really good mood overall with minimal fussing and tantrums.
  
• Finally, he's pretty darn cute, I have to say.
  

Regarding me:

• I'm having a bit more aches and pangs than I did with Chase. Prescription pain killers and I are well acquainted.
• Grandma and Andy are taking very good care of me. I don't have to lift a finger, and if I try to even wiggle an appendage, they yell at me.
• Bullet #2 almost makes bullet #1 worth it. Almost. The picture below, however, does.

Pictures, pictures and more pictures

5:30 AM departure from home. We're on our way!


She has arrived!


What a screamer!

Our little lovey bean.

New member of the family.

Making sure she's really a she. :-)

First feeding.

Does she look like Mama or Daddy?

Proud Papa.

It's my sister! What do I do with my hands?

Ssshhh baby is sleeping.

Can we go home yet?

Yes, we can go home now!

Aren't I cute in my little outfit?

Home, I'm home at last!


Big brother has to check me out. I think I passed.