Part 5- the story continues....

Besides the stupied mesh underwear they give you catching on my vertical incision (think belly button to pubic bone), my recovery was fine. Baloney was fine. She was and still is the biggest goof off ever. She has to be. Her story makes it so. She tried to get us to laugh long before she could talk, long before she was born.

They say you can have more children. That once you have CPP, you only have around a 4% chance more of having it than someone who has never had it. Not bad odds. At first, it seems like you will never want to, having just been traumatized by the amusement park that is complete placenta previa. Along the way I've joined message boards, and just relayed my story to other moms going through it. I think it's important to share what you know. Whether it's the facts or the feelings.

And now, 4 years later......
Baloney gets to be a big sister. She still gets to have her very own crazy story, because......

this placenta, this time..... is high on the left back wall.

Part 4- It's go time.

Of course, since none of this journey was uneventful, the 4th day we were there, my Middle fell off the seat and hit her head on the dresser. In the hospital room. Since it was a head wound, of course blood rushed everywhere, and I completely forgot I was to be in that hellacious bed and jumped up, getting ready to scoop up my bleeding baby. My husband ran, yelling at me, and grabbed her as we tried to stop the bleeding. No rules apply to the inner call of mommy. I told him to tell the nurses to get me a wheelchair because I was going down the E.R. with her and they could either let me wheel or down or I was walking but I was going, no matter what. When all was said and done, she got a staple in her head and was fine.

After 2 amnios, 3 scheduled c-section dates and 3 bleeds, complete with blood draws, IV ports, 4 NST's a day, we made it to the big day. Her lungs were grossly immature the first time around, so they pushed it. I'm glad they did, and at the same time hated it.

Here's where I give you the nitty gritty. To get ready for the big C... they have to shave your business. And apparently they have to use the crappiest razor ever made. And it's kind of like water torture. Worst part, is that it's someones job. Ew. I also had my arm numbed where they had to put in a large line for blood. (this is for placenta previa since blood loss is a huge part of what could happen during delivery)

When we got downstairs, they gave me a shot glass of port a potty sludge. Seriously disgusting. And looks like it. Seeing how they withold drinks and food since the night before, and this is what they offer? Disappointing service from the bar indeed. They also had a little red igloo cooler filled with bags of blood. Just in case they needed it. Remember blood loss for placenta previa, it's not typical that they carry around coolers of blood, just for you.

I got in that OR, got a spinal in my back, and flipped back onto the tiniest board in the planet. Definatley not an "one-butt-cheek-fits-all" kind of table.

The rest of the surgery is kind of surreal. I felt the cutting... not the pain, but could feel the pressure and movement. Like being drawn on. It was creepy and about sent me into a thousand panic attacks. My head was in the anesthesiologists crotch, my arms were strapped down, open like on a cross, oxygen in my nose, an IV in both arms, blood pressure cuff. I was feeling like a hot mess and really bad science experiment. I contemplated calling Frankenstein and saying "dude, I know how you feel...".

They told me I would feel pressure, and then I heard her. She cried and I stared at the ceiling. Then she stopped and I asked if they had taken her out of the room. Nope she was there, just relaxing while they checked her out. They had told me if they asked my husband to leave, that meant things were going badly. As in bleeding. As in hysterectomy or worse. I kept glancing at my husband and asked him to go take a picture of her, so I could see her. They had not lifted her up, but I understood they needed to be quick in doing their job. It was a long few minutes while they worked, while he was taking pictures, and then showed them to me on the LCD screen of the camera. And then, I realize they were joking. With my husband about golf and chinese food as they stapled my stomach back up 25 times. It was all so fitting. We laughed our way in, and laughed our way out.

In recovery, I held her, and they plopped a huge orange trashbag on my feet. "It's your placenta. We're sending it out, but we always do." If I could have moved my feet, I would have kicked it. And punched it. And thanked it for holding on the way it did, even though it was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

We did it, her and I. From the moment they mentioned stupid Complete Placenta Previa, to every shot, test, every worry, every sacrifice, had all come down to this. She was there. Perfect. With dark hair and long nails. In that moment I realized I was so much stronger than I knew, that my husband was and always will be there for me, my kids are resilient, and there are a lot of kind and caring people in this world.

Part 3- Placenta Previa is now a bad word

In Dec. of 2005, I went in for my first prenatal appointment, and of course they do an internal ultrasound. Because those are an absolute highlight. Of course seeing the little bean distracts you from the absolute ridiculousness that is taking place below the belt, but still, it sucks. The Dr. at that point mentioned the placenta looked a little low, but it was no big thing, they move.

Pregnancy was textbook, NO SYMPTOMS at all, mainly with Placenta previa, bleeding is a big sign. I had none and then went for my 20 week ultrasound. I remember the sonographer measuring my cervix and mentioning something about the placenta. Honestly, I have no idea what she said, I was oohing and ahhing over my little alien baby on the screen. Once I went back to the room with the doctor, he then said that I had a complete placenta previa and I had a 50% chance of a c-section. No doom and gloom talk, just basic and a list of restrictions.

By week 28, he was a little frantic. Then came the serious sit down talk. Where he scared the bejeebus out of me and pretty much led me to believe I was going to be massacred by this damn placenta. I still had no complications or symptoms, but he had a plan in effect.

Csection at 36 weeks
Steroids for lung maturity
911 call if any blood.
complete bedrest at 32 weeks.
and under no circumstance to let anything/person/doctor enter my nether regions. Pretty much an invisible chastity belt.

And that's just to get to delivery. The delivery is what's scary

So I followed the plan like a fat girl on the biggest loser. I was going to follow every.single.rule to the letter.

Got the steroids, went on bedrest, and at 33 weeks, wiped and there was pink twinge on the t.p. Having spent MONTHS looking every time I wiped, it had arrived. I called the doctors and they said go to the hospital. Of course, in all my wiseness, I questioned it and said, but it was just a twinge, it's more pink..." and was sharply barked at with a "go now!"

And so I went. I did not know as I drove down the street at 10:30 at night that I would not leave that hospital for the next 5+ weeks. They concluded that it was necessary I stay there, because of the probability of bleeding to death in the time it would take me to get to the hospital if I had a bleed at home. And the funny thing, nothing really amounted to that smalls spots of blood. It stopped and I was fine.

Except for i wasn't fine. My babies were at home. 6 and 3. In the middle of the night, I gave up my mom role and had to full entrust their care to grandmas and husband. Which I did, completely. But it stole a little bit of me that I couldn't just be their mom. I missed my girl's kindergarten graduation. Oh how I cried that day. I was soo proud of my smart girl and I desperately wanted to be there clapping as she smiled her toothless grin on stage. My husband took pictures, but to this day, it still makes me sad. The girls came every day, an played in my room, at the foot of my bed. We would go on wheelchair rides. I was not allowed to walk out of the doors of my room. They brought board games and movies. And yummy food so I didn't have to eat hospital food all the time.

Now in the hospital, the nurses try. They have a little white board that celebrates each and every day you get closer to your goal. Sweetest hearts I ever met.They were my new BFF's. I would press the nurse button and they would call over the intercom, and pretend to give them my drive thru order. Cuz I am fun like that. They would come in and chat and hold your hand when you just wanted to cry.



My white board





my girls





how I spent my time at Chateau de Hospital......

(Part 2) My placenta is hanging out with who and where?

SO let's get the basics down.



What is placenta previa and why is it going to suck the fun out of my pregnancy?

Placenta previa is where the placenta is in the wrong spot. Instead of being anywhere else, it is dangerously near or over the exit route. Like the elevator isn't working, gonna have to take the stairs and bust out the side door. Which of course we all learned in 5th grade, there is only ONE very disgusting way for a baby to drop out of your body. We all swore up and down that we would never have kids, and yet here we are. All because of boys. Boys are gross. Because of some boy, somewhere, you now have a placenta in your body, along with a baby. That is normal and fine and joyous. Until your placenta decides it's lazy and wants to be a doormat for baby to wipe it's head or feet on. Then it's a problem, and goes back to being all because of a boy. It's simple science really.



Most people have a placenta that is on the back, front, top, side, and then there are those of us that find they have the rebel placenta. Complete in black leather and metal studs. The only problem is if it doesn't move out of tha way. it's going to cause problems. Good news, most of them scurry up as your belly grows and nothing to worry about. Those of you who get stuck with the little rebel cow of placenta like mine was, it plants its feet firmly, throws a fit and doesn't budge. Those are the COMPLETE placenta previa achievers.

With Complete Placenta Previa, you get slapped with a host of rules and a prison sentence. Pelvic rest, no lifting more than 10 pounds, take it easy, no strenuous activity. Sounds like the life of a princess..... until they say scary shit like...."call if you have bleeding, call an ambulance because you will bleed to death, and you are bedrest in a hospital so we can have you in surgery in less than 5 minutes." In those scenarios, you will gladly hand back the damn tiara and scream to get off this ride. One of those open mouth dream screams that no one can hear. Scary scary scary shit. Poltergeist and Lady Gaga now seem harmless in this scary movie.

They don't know what causes it. Some say multiple pregnancies. I was on baby number three. I never heard of the old mother who lived in the shoe, who had so many children she didn't know what to do- having placenta previa. Some say maternal age. I was 27/28. Some say crackhead...and well, that wasn't me either. I'm sure there is many a documented crack head that the least of their worries is placenta previa. So, I wish they would just say they don't know and it's the luck of the draw. Because it would help a million during the lonely times that you want to curl in a ball as you watch all the other pregnant ladies doing stuff like.... walking. Remember, IT"S NOT YOU! It's definitely that punk ass placenta that hates it's name so it's rebelling.

The plan of action to correct it is....... a c section. Since parking downtown is blocked, you have to get a garage put in. And we will discuss the complications during that later. This really is a serious subject, but I'm trying to get one point across that I've learned. If I don't laugh, I'll cry.

That's Complete Placenta Previa. And here's what happened to me.......

(part 1) Complete Placenta Previa

Google is our friend. This is for the people who google placenta previa. or Complete placenta previa.

You get me.

And you'll get my story.

Because nothing is scarier after you get past the first few textbook websites of what it actually is, then you drastically search for an experience.....

and a voice to tell you it's okay.
And here, I won't make you read to the end of the posts to find out that all ended well.

Because it did.
And it's okay.

And for those who have heard my story and don't care to hear it again, peace out. This isn't for you. This is for the moms that are searching for some peace and knowledge that....

they'll be scared.
they'll be upset.
they'll be sad.
they'll be worried.
they'll be nervous.
they'll be okay.

My strange Addiction= nightmares

TLC has this new show called "My Strange Addiction."

And it has given my innards a complex.

There will be no photos in this posts and you will thank me.

They have people who are addicted to carrying a puppet.
Big whoop.
That's not an addiction, that's just weird. And attention getting. And quite possibly a sign that their mother slept with a Muppet, probably not Kermit, more like Fozzy- he seems to be a little bit of a quiet scandalous guy.

Then there is a lady with a bajillion cats. Once again, not an addiction, just someone who clearly aspired to be the old cat lady that no one wants to be. And if she wants to clean up cat feces all day, more power to her. If she's addicted, then Michelle Duggar is addicted to having kids... which hey... now that I think of it, I might just have given TLC their next guest. Send the royalties to me please TLC and you're welcome.

The lady who is addicted to her blow dryer....huh? Buy a white noise machine and space heater. Weirdoness solved.

Eating household cleanser- I don't get it. Of the gazillion options in the grocery store and dinner comes down to the household aisle and a toss up between the Comet or the Ajax? Do you serve it with a side of Cottonelle and invite the toilet paper eater over to dinner?

Did I say toilet paper eater? You heard me. Chick munches on some 2 ply extra plush super duper for your pooper paper. As in bypasses the popcorn counter at the movie theater with a dirty little grin because she has snuck in her own little pack of Angel Soft to snack on. I bet the bulk t.p. section at Costco is her dream.

And then we have the Couch Muncher. Who eats couch cushions. Opens that zipper and takes a bite of foam that people have been doing who knows what on for years. P-uke. At what point did she look at that huge piece of fluffy furniture and decide that it would be tasty to munch on? Is she buying them up on craigslist or do several of her friends have hidden teeth marks covered in their cushions?

Now for super gross. Pulling out hair and... gag... eating.the.follicle.
WTF! Who thinks any of this is edible? And why? Some people have no idea what a follicle is, much less if they should ever eat it. And why admit to it on tv.- or on a bathroom stall wall.

My stomach will never be the same. I'm addicted to changing the channel the minute this show comes on for fear my eyes will shrivel up and fall out.

Oh and they have a scab picker episode. I hope my cable goes out that day.

Middle of January

My girls.

This weekend we went and bought Oldielocks new cleats. And she now has bigger feet than me. And she's only 10. I wonder how big her feet will be, and then I start wondering how tall she will be and before you know it, I have a head full of wonderings of just who she will become. But I never wonder if she'll be serious, or capable or be kind and loving. Because she already is all those things.

Middle was in the paper today. And she was wearing a blue embroidered sundress, with black ballet flats. While playing softball. I wonder if she will always have this classic sense of style. Where she could put on pearls and starched dresses while the rest of the world shows up in shorts and tank tops. I wonder if she will ever base what she likes on other people. But I never wonder if she will smile and skip every day. Or be sweet and so very forgiving. Because she is already all those things.

Baloney was in the paper too. And she took the tee over to the pitcher mound and declared that she "didn't need it. Just throw me the balls." And so the husband did. And every one she kept her foot in perfect form and swung that pink bat, making contact with at least 5 of them. I wonder if she will actually be good at playing ball. Or what sport will she pick, or no sports at all. I wonder if she will be sassy at the times she should be quiet. But I never wonder she will be funny, or determined. Or animated and laughing. Because she is already all those things.

They are all so different, from their hair to eye color to style. In fact the only thing that they seem to have in common is that they are mine. And I love each one the most.

And that is something I never want them to wonder.

Good parent resolutions to have

If only the ramppant entitled children of the world had parents who listened to this......


Living with Children

John Rosemond

Copyright 2011, John K. Rosemond



Given that this is the first column of a new year, I’m proposing a number of parenting New Year’s Resolutions for my readers to consider. The list is by no means comprehensive. It’s just a good beginning on what is probably a much-needed family revolution:

1. We will not throw expensive “event parties” for our children on their birthdays. Instead, we will confine all birthday celebrations to our family, including extended family. We will keep it uncomplicated: a special dinner of the birthday boy or girl’s favorite food, a cake, the obligatory song, and a few simple gifts, mostly clothing or other useful things.

2. We will spend at least as much time helping our children develop good manners as do helping them get good grades in school, which means we will cut back significantly on the time helping with the latter (in consideration of the fact that good manners, which are expressions of respect for others, will take one further in life than will good grades). Each week, we will work on one specific social courtesy, such as saying “excuse me” when you walk in front of someone. Taking two weeks off, that’s fifty courtesies a year!

3. We will show our love for our neighbors by properly disciplining our children, insisting on proper behavior, and reprimanding immediately (even if that means in front of other people) when they behave otherwise, and on those occasions we will also insist they apologize appropriately.

4. If we have not already done so, we will assign a routine of daily chores to each of our children (at least those who have reached their third birthdays) and we will insist that said chores be done, and done properly, before they engage in recreation or relaxation.

5. When our children ask us for cell phones, we will tell them that they may have cell phones when they are able to pay for them as well as the monthly bills.

6. When our children complain that they are the only kids who don’t have cell phones (and do chores), we will tell them that learning how to be different is character-building.

7. Our children will not be able to order customized meals unless we take them to a restaurant. At home, they will eat what we are eating, and they will sit at the table until they are finished. We will do this so that when they are invited to eat at someone else’s home, they will be the best of guests.

8. We will surely bond with our children, but we will not bond with them in the marital bed, nor will we bond with them in their beds.

9. In keeping with number 8, we will put our marriage first and our children second…for their sake as well as ours. They will revolve around us; thus, they will not grow up thinking the world revolves around them.

10. If I am a single parent, I will take good care of myself for my sake as well as my children’s. I will have an active, adult’s only, social life. I will take plenty of personal time to simply relax and do those things I like to do. I will do all of that so that my children will not ever think the world revolves around them.

11. We/I will put our/my children to bed early so that we/I can end each day reconnecting as a couple or relaxing as a single.

12. We will eat as a family around our own table at least six nights a week.

13. We will keep after-school activities to a minimum, and only let them enroll in activities that do not prevent us from delivering on number 11.

14. Instead of buying our children expensive things, we will help them develop hobbies and take them to museums and on trips.

15. We will do all of the above so that when they grow up, they will have wonderful memories of their childhoods and raise our grandchildren in a manner that honors us.

3 days in a row

That's right, getting my blog on.

I even exercised 3 days this week. I'm on a roll- I should take this productiveness to the bank and cash it! I hit up the Target 75% off toys sales today. And got a few good deals, probably could have gotten more, but some lady was snatching it up like all the toyless children in the world depended on her. Which was fine, saved me some dollars for a rainy day. Got some super cute bibs on clearance and a super cute pacifier set.

And since you must know, I also got some multiplication fact cards from the dollar spot. Figured Middle will not become a brain surgeon if I don't help her along the way.

The husband got home and changed to jump on the elliptical. He's been doing great to, toning up the hotness that he has going on. Of course this is after I walked in the room and asked when he changed his initials to B.O. And then it was even better when Baloney walked in and said " WHAT is that smell!" His compromise was spraying his dirty gym shirt with lysol, twice in the pits for good measure. Dude's got to sweat to cut and chisel the body, and he always showers afterwards but..... ew.

So there's blog post three of the week. Off to get my cookie and star.

Confessions

Sometimes, I think people like to put on this face of someone who they are not. I mean- hell yeah I want everyone to think I'm the perfect wife, who raises her beautiful children in their perfect outfits, maintaining the perfect home filled with homemade goodness and fresh baked cookies when they get home. Which there is absolutely nothing wrong with being and doing those things. But give me the mom who points out where she has gone wrong and embraces it, and she and I will be besties.

I am the mom, who while on my road trip last summer, trying to stay awake in the middle of the night as I maneuvered my SUV around the mountains of Utah, (perhaps at higher than posted speeds), sang at the top of my lungs "gonna catch me ridin dirty" by chamillionaire.

I am the lady, who went shopping at our local health food store today, bought tons of healthy fruits and veggies (for 20 bucks! love you cali!) and came home and devoured a plate of leftover chinese. A plate of mammoth proportions.

I am the wife, who when it comes to her husbands taste in shoes, I have no problem letting him know that they are fugtastic. But I will say that I buy him the ugly ones anyways since after all, shoes that you love make all difference.

And right now, while the hubby is downstairs on the elliptical, I am on the internet, but I have every intention of jumping up when I hear the door shut and picking up some weights, you know, acting like I was working out the whole time too. Wink wink.

True dat.

1-11-11

So it's 1-11-2011.

Today is as good as any to write a blog entry.

Except for I think I'm hungry and really, how am I supposed to form a sentence if my stomach is growling. I'll trudge through though, priorities. I go walking with the baloney every day and she rides her bike. She races way ahead and then I have to huff and puff to keep up, all the while "pour some sugar on me" is blasting in my ears, true stripper style. We pass these little patch of bunnies everyday, so last night when we get home, she tells the hubby that "We saw bunnies today and almost bought one." Of course his eyes search mine with a "wtf is she talking about willis" look.

What? First of all, they are wild bunnies- that by the weeks end might possibly be road kill. Sad but true. Just keeping the circle of life real here. And next, buy them from who? The invisible bunny seller in the middle of the park? And last, bunny poop is gross. Little itty balls of turds that may or may not roll away at any given clean up moment? Yeah, I'm good with not stressing out over bunny poop. We are not buying any bunnies. the end.

But I do love this age, where fact is fiction and fiction is fact. They truly believe that a dragon stole their blanket and they fed the dragon 8 bowls of cheerios and then the dragon flew away... in a pink school bus.

So while it's not true, it's cute. And it just might be a good lesson. I wonder if I could use that line the next time I see some cute boots... "well I saw boots today and almost bought them..."