Our First Visit to the ER

Yesterday was traumatic. It started out cool, rainy, and blissful. We were up early and out of the house. The girls and I headed to the Museum of Science and Industry with a friend and her little girl. Our kiddos love it there, and especially on a rainy day. Tons of room to run about. Billions of buttons to push, flashing lights, baby chicks, water tables, and on and on and on. We had been there about an hour and Big A was honestly and truly having a wonderful time. But with the blink of an eye she tripped. She trips all the time. She's almost two, she's supposed to fall all the time. But this time she didn't bounce right back up like she normally does. She fell right near my feet, flat on her belly, and started to cry. I gave my initial "Oh honey" that usually does the trick, but she didn't even try to get up, just cried harder. So, with Little A strapped to my chest and fast asleep, I awkwardly bent down and scooped her up. My first sight was her screaming face covered in blood. Before I had any idea what had happened I yelled to an employee down the hall to get help, and then she was off. It seemed like an eternity before I found my wits, but it probably only a couple seconds before I found the source of the blood and pulled the sleeve of my shirt down over my trembling hand and firmly applied pressure to the inch gash across her forehead. Little A, still fast asleep. She was crying and occasionally saying "Boo boo" or "Mummy kiss it", which only forced me to choke back the tears even more. I was terrified and just didn't know what to do. My friend asked if she should call the paramedics and I said yes. I couldn't understand why no one from the museum was there yet, but it had probably only been a couple minutes. A wonderful mother near by brought me a maxi pad that I very thankfully unwrapped and used to apply pressure. The blood was all down her face, on her clothes, on the exhibit I was resting her on. In a moment I was going to lug her to my car and take her to the hospital - but just then the security guard/first aider arrived, as well as an off-duty paramedic. They got me some gauze for her head, told me the paramedics were on the way, and that we should head to the first aid room to wait. So, I lugged my bleeding toddler, trying not to crush my sleeping baby, down the elevator and around the corner. We sat down and they assessed her head and neck. She seemed "fine", she hadn't lost consciousness, her neck was fine, she just had a one inch cut, relatively deep, diagonally down her forehead. They said she would need to be stitched and we were going to have to go to the hospital. My friend phoned J at work and told him to meet us at the ER of the children's hospital (which is only one building away from his office).

At this point she didn't want me to touch it anymore and the more I did, the more she thrashed, so I let it alone. The bleeding had slowed, a lot, and she would have pauses where she'd suck her thumb and calm down a bit. The paramedics arrived, regurgitated what I already knew, and said that they could take her to the hospital, or that it was fine if I wanted to transport her. I opted for the latter. When I would hold her she would calm down, but when those strange men tried to fuss with her she'd go nuts. The hospital was less than a mile from the museum, so I didn't feel like I was taking a huge risk, really. The did insist on wrapping the wound before I left, which resulted in an epic white gauze hat that half covered her eyes. At first she wanted to tear it off, but I said we absolutely had to show Daddy first, and that we'd go see him right now. That appeased her enough, and we headed for the car. The museum insisted we have an escort to our car, so the security guard accompanied myself (lugging the two munchkins - although Little A was finally awake), and my friend and her daughter through a good chunk of the museum - with little field-trip-goers pointing and gawking. We buckled in and headed out. When I got to the ER minutes later, J was waiting outside - and had been, for about 20 min. :) I was so incredibly glad to see him. I was stressed and scared, and it's hard to preach assurance and confidence when you have little yourself. He scooped Big A out of the car and she just held him and cried, and we headed inside.

We had to check in and wait, but thankfully Nemo was on the TV and she sat very calmly in her dad's arms. Very soon she started to fall asleep, which worried me. I found a nurse and asked if it was alright if she slept. She came and had a look at Big A, and immediately pulled us into a triage room. She had to be weighed - which meant she couldn't be held - and that didn't go over very well. Then we were settled into another room where her vitals were taken. She was fine and given the A-Ok to sleep if she wanted. The resident came in to assess her wound, and we were once again given the "Yep, she'll need stitches." The big question was if we wanted her to be sedated or swaddled and restrained. We opted for option A feeling that the less meds and intervention the better. The sealed a glob of lidocaine over the wound and left us to sit for the 30 minutes it would take to reach full effect. As the blood started to seep through the white goo, J & I decided she looked a bit like a bizmark donut. :P

Meanwhile, I was able to feed Little A and put her back to sleep, this time on my back, so that I had my hand more free to help Big A if needed. She couldn't eat or drink "just in case" and soon she was assess by the "real" doctor. "Yep, she'll need stitches." Soon they were wrapping her in a sheet, and then strapping her to the mini stretcher that said Papoose on the side. She was able to have her little stuffed dog Duppy and her little giraffe wrapped with her. She cried. Boy oh boy did she cry. J stayed by her face speaking calmly and soothing, and I was by her feet, wedging a finger through the layers to have some skin-to-skin contact with my little girl. The resident sewed 3 stitches on the inside. I am pretty rugged when it comes to blood & guts, but it's not so great when it's your kiddo. As he went to sew the 4th and final inner-stitch, Big A jerked a bit, when the Dr zagged, and he knicked a vessel. Gushing blood started to run up her forehead and into her hair (since she was at a decline to keep debris out of her face). It bled a lot, and didn't really slow until he decided to stitch it through the bleeding. The plan was to have 4 inner stitches then glue on the outside. And even though the knick had caused more swelling and bleeding, that's how he progressed. He lined it up and glued it back together. The nurse started to clean Big A a bit, but I said I didn't care and to just unwrap her. Little A was awake again and I gave her to J so I could hold Big A for a bit. I caught the Dr give a worrisome glance...and I wish I could go back and say then, "What's that look for?!?!" We told her she was brave, and beautiful, and that we could go home. But instead of the nurse coming back with discharge papers, the Dr came back.

He said that with the extra swelling, he felt it needed to be stitched on the outside. Ugh. That he was very sorry, but that an extra 20 minutes of discomfort now could minimize the scar she had for the rest of her life. Double ugh. She had stopped crying and just kept telling me she wanted to go home in the car and watch Shaun the Sheep. I explained that we had made a mistake, and that she needed to become a burrito again and let the doctor fix her boo boo. Again. She cried and thrashed, but not as much as the first time. She looked at me pleadingly through tear filled eyes, and I again told her she was brave and beautiful and almost done. "Mummy hold me" was the worst. I stroked her cheek and her toes, the only skin I could get at, and in a few minutes he was done, 5 more stitches and it did look better. A little ointment and a bandaid. A popsicle lifted her spirits...a lot! It was about 3:30 when we left - and J was due back at work to give a talk. I let him go, packed the girls in the car, and went home. We were all (well, not Little A) so exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally. Big A ate. And ate and ate and drank. We watched 13 episodes of Shaun the Sheep before bed and barely left the sofa. We all needed it. When J got home I was finally able to relax a bit and the tension in my shoulders was epic. Some ibuprofen and she fell asleep in my arms on the sofa.

Today she took a shower with me and we washed all the blood out of her hair. She almost looks normal now. She's happy and playful and fine. When the ibuprofen wears off she's reminded of the pain and will tell me that her "boo boo hurts". :( My first parenting emergency. Let's just say I'm glad it's behind me.

Swimming

On Saturday Big A started swim lessons. She won't be two until November, and honestly I would have preferred if she had started sooner, but with me being pregnant and all, family swim time was about all we could muster. She's taking the tots swim class with her dad through the Chicago Parks program, and she really enjoyed it. There are about 20 munchkins and parents crammed into a nearly hot pool with a lovely drill sergeant as an instructor. They worked on kicking, floating, getting their ears wet, jumping, and so on. They ended a little early, after about 45 minutes, but she was exhausted. She barely made it through lunch before crashing for almost 2 hours!

When we arrived at the pool J & Big A got changed and then we all took a spot on the bleachers to wait for the current class to finish. It was an adult learn to swim class that really blew my mind. Both J & I can swim. We love the water. We grew up in Maine and there was always a lake, river, ocean, or pool to swim in. Neither of us can really remember not being able to swim. We're not "swimmers" - our crawl has horrible form and my dive is almost always a flop, but we can swim. I have actually considered signing up for the adult swim classes, because I thought it could help me swim better - laps, and get my dive down.

Thank god I've never done that!

Watching these brave people timidly try to push off of the side of the pool with a kickboard, and only make it a couple feet before standing up, really affirmed our choice to put Big A in lessons - and Little A as soon as we can. Everyone should know how to swim, not only for fun and fitness, but for safety.

Last night we took the whole fam to the pool for family swim. Big A only has lessons once a week, but if she gets lots of practice in between, I'm sure she'll be a little guppy but Christmas. It was Little A's first time swimming, but boy did she love it!

Mini Me

I absolutely love wearing my kids. I love them fast asleep snug against my chest - and I especially love that feeling while still having my arms free to push Big A on a swing, or sweep the floor, or what ever. Needless to say, I was beyond overjoyed when Big A insisted on wearing her baby on our walk to the 57th Street Book Fair. Love, love, love it.

So Proud

Big A has taken to coloring. She loves to color and draw. She has a Pooh, dinosaur, and Spiderman coloring book. She'll request the book she wants by saying either "Color Pooh" "Color raaarrr" or "color man". Yesterday though she requested some paper for her crayons and immediately wrote this. Jake quite skeptical that it had been intentional asked her what she had drawn. She replied "Mmmmmm's Mummy" which is a take on what I've been teaching her - "M is for Mummy". She's only 21 months. My flippin' little genius.

Teething

I'm going crazy.

Big A is cutting her 2 year molars. Poor thing. They're so far back that when she tries to put her fingers back there to chew on them, she gags. Cracks me up, but I do feel bad for her. She's mostly fine during the day, but wakes often during the night.

Little A is cutting both of her bottom lateral incisors - which is odd because A.) she's only 11 weeks and B.) who gets their lateral incisors first?!!? Either way, she is miserable all day, chewing on her hands and crying and struggles to get to sleep - but, once asleep, she stays asleep.

Moral of the story is: Little A is monopolizing me all day long, and Big A is keeping me up all night!

My Birth Story

Ok...now fast forward to Monday June 7, 2010, 12 days past my due date. My mother Judi has flown in from Maine to be with Big A during the birth. Hillary was due to leave town for a few days to attend her daughter's college graduation, and we all felt that 12 days over was enough. She suggested that I take two tablespoons of castor oil in a smoothy made with orange juice and ice cream. I'm not gonna lie, it's weird when your "smoothy" has an oily aftertaste, but I got it down just fine. And we waited. And waited. She had said it usually takes effect 4 hours later. But 4 hours came and went. Nothing. 5 hours, nothing. Then it was a little after 4 p.m., 6 hours later, when the unpleasant diarrhea that castor oil causes, finally set in. Honestly, it really wasn't that horrible and only lasted about 20 min., and by the end of the "grippers", I was having contractions. And they were relatively strong, about 40 seconds long, and only about 3-4 minutes apart. I called Hillary and she said she and Tera would head out soon. Hillary arrived around 6, listened to the baby's heartbeat and checked my progress. I was about 6 cm and 50% effaced and -1 station. Tera arrived about 20 minutes later and she & Hillary set up camp. It was absolutely amazing how efficient they were. They transformed my bedroom into a delivery room. A clear shower curtain was put under my sheets to protect the mattress. Plastic backed sheeting was placed over the carpets between the bedroom and bathroom. It wasn't quite as bad as an episode of Dexter, but it definitely had a certain resemblance.

We all started to get a bit peckish, so we decided to order pizzas from Medici on 57th. I LOVED that I could eat and drink whatever and whenever I wanted. I think I had about 50 freeze pops throughout the evening! Our dearest friend & neighbor picked them up for us since delivery was going to take over an hour. It was about 7 pm and my contractions were starting to get painful enough that I didn't want to be sitting at all. So we all gathered in the dining room and had yummy pizza, I stood at the table instead of sitting, but overall we had a really nice meal all together. I would occasionally have a contraction tough enough that I would need to walk a bit through it, but they were all still very bearable. We tidied up our dinner mess and headed back to the living room. Big A got her jammies on and popped Wallace & Grommit's Curse of the Were-Rabbit in the DVD player. My contractions were getting a bit more intense, but still not too intense. My brother Adam & his wife Kushi called out of the blue and we had a lovely chat. It was pushing 9, so Hillary suggested she check me again. I went & laid on the bed and Big A came and snuggled with me. I really loved that she could be around me, but she was tired and because we usually co-sleep, she couldn't just go to bed like usual. But she was being a real trooper. I was 8 cm but still not fully effaced and still at the same station! So to help speed things up, she broke my water. And speed things up it did. Very quickly I started to have some really intense back pains. I tried some heat for a little while, which helped some, but soon it didn't help at all. Jake was a saint and applied some pressure to my lower back, which also helped for a little while, but then I didn't want anyone to touch me at all. It was about 10 p.m., and Hillary thought it was a good time to head into the bedroom. She suggested that I get up on my hands and knees since that would take some of the pressure of the baby off of my back. Which it did, but...the contractions continued to come, stronger and stronger. Jake was trying to be with me, rubbing my back and such, but Big A was so tired and was a bit demanding of her dad, so he went back into the living room to lay down with her for a while. I started to get more vocal and I heard Big A crying in the other room. I wanted to make sure she knew she could come be with me in the bedroom if she wanted to, and she came and hung out for a little while, but she just wanted me to go lay down with her and put her to sleep...something I wasn't really capable of at the moment, so Jake took her back out to the living room. I remember my mum coming in and letting me hold her hand for a bit, but I squeezed it during a contraction and thought I was going to crush her little arthritic nubbin fingers! Meanwhile, I was in real pain, and I was tired. I would lay down between contractions to rest and I remember saying I couldn't do it. Sweet Hillary had some great encouragement which summed up was, "Too bad, you have to." And seriously, that worked. I remember thinking, she's right, I have no choice, buck up and get it done. I was beginning to crown, and starting to push. Jake had hoped to "catch" the baby so as I got closer, Tera came out to tell him he should come back in...but poor timing, my mother had chosen then to take our dog Maully out, so even though Big A was nearly asleep, Jake getting up roused her. He headed into the bedroom with me, but Big A started to cry, so Jake went and got her and brought her in. I remember hearing Jake talking to her and trying to explain how they'd get to see the baby in Mummy's belly very soon. She seemed to be calming down, but just then Little A's head emerged, and Big A started to cry again. My mum came and tried to take her out, but she wanted to stay with Jake and honestly, I wanted her to stay as well. I tried to talk to her in between contractions as well, but she was exhausted and completely confused. No matter how many books we read and photos and videos we watched, there's no preparing an 18 month old for a birth. So the next contraction and the rest of Little A was born, at 10:44 p.m, with apgars of 9/10. Fourteen minutes of pushing. I instantly felt fine. That is the most amazing part of childbirth. As soon as that little munchkin pops out, you get instant relief. Ahhh. She looked so long but little! I laid down on my back and held my sweet, sweet Little A for the very first time.

Jake took Big A back out to the living room and she almost instantly fell asleep, and our dog Maully came and snuggled up next to her. I think they both were a bit tired and stressed! Jake came back in and the cord had stopped pulsating so they clamped it and Jake cut it. Hillary gave me a good dose of Rescue Remedy, Arnica, and ibuprofen. I delivered the placenta, which was nice and healthy, and Hillary & Tera started some of the clean up. I just laid in bed with my baby. In MY bed, in my sheets, on my pillow. I loved that. My mum finally came in to see her gorgeous new granddaughter. Jake came and gave us a snuggle as well. I was a bit sad that Big A was asleep and we couldn't have mushy gushy family of 4 moment, but she needed her rest. Little A latched on immediately and she had a good feed. About an hour or so after delivery Hillary & Tera joined me on the bed to start the newborn exam. That was the first time she left my arms. Loved that too. For an hour we just laid skin-to-skin talking, smelling, nursing, resting, adjusting! Loved it. Jake was able to weigh her in the neat hangy-springy-sling thing and we were all shocked when Tera read out 9 pounds! Then they measured her. Length: 21.75 inches. Head: 37 cm. Chest 35.5 cm. Abdomen 33.5 cm. We declined eye drops and vitamin K, but they did her footprints, checked her hips and head, respiration, heart rate, and so on. She was perfect. She is perfect. My birth was perfect...a little chaotic at times, mostly due to my lovely toddler, but perfect.

We got her dressed, and then the midwives got me out of bed. Ugh. Not the most fun part of the evening. I desperately wanted a shower, but they said it would be best to just go to bed and shower in the morning. It was well after 1 a.m. when the midwives started to get their things together and talk about leaving. They went over what I needed to be careful doing, and what would be normal/abnormal and what to do about it. One of them would be back on Wednesday for a check-up, but that I could call anytime if I was worried about anything. My mum was totally tuckered, so she headed to bed. Jake moved Big A back into our bed and I put Little A to sleep in the hammock at my side. Jake & I tucked in and went to sleep. It was only about an hour later that Little A woke gagging and horking up fluid. Blech. We got up and changed her jammies and in the process, Big A woke up. She sat up in bed and said "Baby!" Once Little A was dressed we all piled in bed and had a great big cuddle. Big A held Little A (with the help of Jake) and we talked about what had happened. Big A seemed star struck. Even Maully came up on the bed for a sniff. Soon enough we dimmed the lights back down and all drifted back to sleep. I did have my mushy gushy family of four moment - it was just4 hours after the birth. Which is something I was so thankful for as well. I loved how soon Big A and Little A were able to interact. To touch and cuddle and begin bonding. Little A has always been so keyed in to Big A. Her voice has always - since that first cuddle - drawn her attention. Loved that.

That's about it, in a nutshell. Tera came back Wednesday morning to check on us and to do the heel prick test (PKU). We brought Little A to the pediatrician's at one week and she was down to 8 pounds 7 ounces, but otherwise healthy and happy. Hillary came for a cup of tea and a chat at two weeks. And then at three weeks she was up to 10 pounds 2 ounces!

At this point you may have gathered that we loved our home birth. I am well aware that this is not for everyone, but for me, for us, our family, it was perfect, and let me just recap why.

1. I liked that in my home neither she nor I were exposed to any icky antibiotic-resistant bacteria or sick people.
2. Getting to eat and drink was fantastic. You wouldn't run a marathon without staying hydrated and fueled, how can you give birth like that?!?
3. There were no strangers at the birth, just another way to make me feel more comfortable.
4. My stuff. When you don't feel well, there's no place like home - and giving birth is just the same. My clothes, my bed, my favorite sheets, my pillow. Sooo comfy.
5. Big A could be there. If I had delivered at U of Chicago, she wouldn't have even been able to visit me AFTER because there was still a H1N1 ban on children under 8.
6. No pitocin shot. We waited until the cord had stopped pulsating to clamp and cut. Not an option at the U of C.
7. No vitamin K or eye drops. This was an option at U of C, but only if I signed a waiver.
8. No continuous monitoring. Not an option at U of C.
9. Jake got to be there and stay there. For our last birth he had to leave overnight. I think he could have had a cot at U of C, but he wouldn't have been able to stay because Big A would've needed him. He fell asleep with us, in bed all together, not in a cot, and just a few hours later.
10. No one waking us up all night to check vitals.

I could just go on and on forever, but I suppose I've been preachy enough. There it is. My birth.

My Pre-Birth Story

Well, it's been 5 weeks since I had my littlest munchkin, at home, with two amazing midwives from Gentle Birth Care, my loving and tolerant husband, my mum, my oldest munchkin, and my sweet dog Maully.

Since then I've had loads of questions and people asking me to share the details of our slightly unorthodox birth, so here it is in two parts. First is the back story that lead us to our decision to have a home birth, and then still to come is Part II, the ooey, gooey, birth story.

As most of you know, we have an amazing, bright, & beautiful 1.5 year old girl who I lovingly refer to in cyberspace as Big A (We've given both of our girls "A" names, and this is a great way to refer to them with a bit of a throwback to Dr. Seuss's ABC's). We were living in England when I gave birth to her and was blessed to experience the NHS. Seriously, NO sarcasm there. I loved the NHS. Especially for childbirth. It was minimalistic. No one treated me like I was sick. And even though I was routinely checked to make sure things were progressing well, I wasn't really "treated" at all. I had a lovely midwife for office visits and a luck-of-the-draw midwife that attended my hospital birth. There are many things about Big A's birth that I knew I wouldn't want to have happen again...but all in all, it was a wonderful experience. She & I were discharged 12 hours later to go home feeling healthy & elated & sore. :)

So, second time around, we're in the good ol' U.S. of A. Neither Jake nor myself had had much experience of health insurance. In college we were still on our parent's insurance, when we were first married, we were uninsured, and then in the UK we had the beautiful NHS. When we first arrived in Chicago, the insurance plan that UChicago postdocs had available to them was United Healthcare. I desperately wanted a midwife. I'm a low-risk 20-something 2nd time mother, planning an unmedicated birth. I don't need a highly trained OB/GYN, for all intents and purposes, a surgeon, to deliver my baby. I need someone who performs normal run-of-the-mill boring old vaginal births. But, that's not how things work in the US, and the only "in-network" midwife available was in Milwaukee, almost two hours away. And even though they would contribute to an out of network midwife, it would have cost us thousands of dollars out of pocket, and frankly, we don't have thousands of dollars to spare at the moment. So, I reluctantly went to the U of Chicago hospital across the Midway from our house, and found a lovely OB/GYN who my insurance would cover 100%. She was very nice and tolerated our millions of questions, such as, "Does the hospital require the baby have the vitamin K shot, erythromycin for the eyes, would I have to have the pitocin shot after birth, could I be mobile, would I have to be continuously monitored, and how long after going into labor/waters breaking would I have to be induced or have a C-section?" Quite a few questions she refused to answer, brushing them off with "We'll have plenty of time to worry about that." I felt gutted that I was going to have to settle for an over-medicated, and therefore higher risk birth, but she was nice and the best that we could afford (which totally kills me since an OB and a hospital birth costs the insurance about 3 times more than a home birth with a certified nurse midwife...but I digress)

We rang in the new year and the University of Chicago decided to ring in a new health care company. We were changed to Blue Cross Blue Shield of Illinois PPO, and suddenly the sun came out. There were a gagillion in-newtork midwives in the Chicago area, but the University of Chicago hospital didn't allow midwife deliveries, so I would have to deliver at a hospital further away, which worried me for many reasons. First of all, I was worried about driving, in traffic, in labor. Blech. I was worried about being so far away from Big A. And from the little research I did online, I was worried that a midwife delivery in the hospital wasn't going to be very different from what I could expect at U of C. So, I continued with my prenatal care with my OB/GYN.

I had my 20 week ultrasound. Things looked good, but the baby wouldn't change positions, so they weren't able to see a few things. A few weeks later I went back for a re-scan. The baby still proved to be slightly uncooperative, and they were unable to see a chamber of the heart. The sonographer said everything seemed fine, but they might want to reschedule one more scan, but since the baby was running out of room it was unlikely they would get a good scan anymore. So we saw the OB/GYN who said we would probably need to have a fetal echo cardiogram. Jake & I both reassured her that we were not concerned and that we felt that seemed excessive. She said she would consult with her colleagues and get back to us with what they felt would be best. A few days later I received a phone call that emotionally blackmailed me into consenting to the test. It was pretty much phrased that if I wanted to take a life or death risk with my unborn child that I would be a horrible mother, but that it was my choice. Ugh. So, Jake & I decided to have the test the first of March. When we arrived the nurse who showed us into the exam room asked if we knew why we were being referred since she couldn't see any high risk indicators on my chart. Then the sonographer came in and asked the same question. Argh. He then performed an HOUR long ultrasound. Next we were ushered into another room to wait while the cardiologist reviewed the images. The first thing he said to us when he walked in was, "So why exactly have you been referred?" I explained the previous scan issues and he just seemed perplexed. He explained that there were no abnormalities and that I hadn't needed to have the test, but that he was sure my doctor was just being overcautious, and how great that was. Jake & I left so angry at the whole ordeal and at the system that perpetuates the time and money wasting of highly trained specialists. On our walk home we decided we were done with U Chicago Medical Center.

I began researching midwives and set up some interviews. And then I came across some midwives that would do home births, and that some of them were in-network, and that my insurance would pay 100% of that! I wasn't sure that I wanted a home birth, but I liked that we had a new option and I started meeting with some midwives that only did home births. Some were weird. One was so awkward with Big A. Some were so new age touchy-feely that I wanted to puke. Another was also a nutter Bible-thumper. But then we met with a hospital group of midwives that seemed like just what we were looking for. But while speaking to one of the midwives it came up that we had been considering home birth and she asked if we had met with Hillary Keiser. Hillary had helped start the West Suburban Midwife Assn., and had left a year ago to do home births. She couldn't say enough positive things about her and really urged us to meet her before making a decision.

So we met Hillary and her assistant Tera and we were sold. They were exactly what we were looking for. They said everything we wanted to hear. Hillary has years and years of experience both in hospital and at home, so laid back but so experienced. Tera is young and a recently certified CNM and so zealous and full of excitement, and she was amazing with Big A. She didn't care that I was entering my 3rd trimester. She didn't care that I was overweight. She didn't care that we live in Hyde Park. She didn't care that we had a dog, or that I wanted my 18 month old to be present. They were perfect and we made the switch.

A Fabulous 4th of July!

This is our first 4th of July in the US since '06, and we hadn't made any plans. It was forecast to be hot, and with a munchkin under a month old, you don't really want to spend the day out in sun, at the beach or a park.

I had heard about the small parade that takes place on 53rd in Hyde Park, just a short distance from our house, but Jake hates parades - in fact we've never been to one together - so I was thinking we wouldn't be attending. But I really thought Big A (our eldest) might enjoy it, so we loaded up the car and drove a few blocks north (to minimize our walk/sun time in the 90 degrees!), and got a great parking spot at the park where the parade was to finish. The street had plenty of cute little families waiting for the parade to start, but it was far from crowded (a big sigh of relief from my people-hating hubby). We had a little time to kill, so Jake bought me an iced coffee and we found a nice shaddy spot to set up camp. A few minutes later the fire truck was crawling past us with siren blaring. Big A was awe struck and waved enthusiastically at the firefighters. Little A slept soundly in my arms. Then there were loads of bands, bagpipers, majorettes, drill teams, and ended with tons of children & parents with their bikes and strollers decorated with patriotic streamers and ribbons. It was perfect.

Then we headed back to the park where there were pony rides, a bouncy house, live music, a playground, balloons, and plenty of shade. We met up our neighbors who have a lovely little boy that Big A is smitten with. They stroked the horses, ran through the trees, and had a romp around the play ground. We all started to get a bit toasty, so we headed home for some A/C and naps all around.

Early evening we all headed upstairs to our neighbors house for a "BBQ". Seeing that neither of us possess a grill, we resorted to burgers on the grill pan, and my oh my, was it good. Sided with oven fries, fresh kale, coleslaw, corn on the cob, and berry shortcake for dessert. Plus Pimm's and mojitos. What more could you ask for?!?!? Little A slept all through dinner, so I actually got to enjoy the meal! We played a little Mario Kart on the Wii, the love-struck munchkins took an adorable little bath together. After a couple stories, they were both ready for bed, so we headed back downstairs. Big A was asleep moments after her little head hit the bed. Totally and completely tuckered out.

The only cruddy part of the day is knowing that our fantastic neighbors whose little boy is the perfect playmate for Big A, are moving at the end of the month. Bah! But that aside, it was low-key, mellow kind of day, and the only fireworks I saw were the ones that happened to make it up past the brownstone across the street, but all in all, it was probably my favorite 4th, ever.

Is Car Sickness Contagious?

Those of you who have known me from the beginning, know that I spent many years with a spare change of clothes in the car, for when I would inevitably vomit all over myself. I just couldn't help it. The backseat was the worst. My Nana's Mercury Grand Marquis was a total guarantee. The ferry boat to Vinalhaven was alright if I could stay outside, but if it was storming, I'd be a puking.

And now my oldest munchkin has tossed her cookies in my backseat 3 times in the last two weeks. Eww. She's in a massive 5 point harness toddler carseat, so taking the thing apart to wash it, is no small feat, let alone doing it so many times! And then we're trapped at home until the silly thing dries. But I digress.

I can't figure out why she's been getting sick. Initially I thought it was the heat. We don't have A/C in the car (barbaric, I know!), and if we get stuck in miserable Chicago traffic...well, it makes me want to hurl. But the last time it was in the 60's, with the windows open wide. So I'm starting to wonder if it's just old fashioned motion sickness. She's only 19 months old, so even though she does talk up a storm, it doesn't effectively communicate how she's feeling. I do get a "Mummy. Puke." chanted over and over again from the backseat after it happens...which is helpful, but doesn't really identify a cause. I have decided to limit her water intake while riding in the car. Perhaps that will help. But on those very hot days, I can't really do that...so instead I think we'll just stay home! But here's hoping the situation improves, and that this was just a fluke and not the evil karma gods paying me back for all the ruined clothes and pit stops I showered upon my family.

Baby Update

We saw the pediatrician on Monday, mostly just to have the wee munchkin weighed. She was a whooping 9 pounds at birth but a week later was down to 8 pounds, 7 ounces. The doctor seemed mildly concerned and suggested we have her "one month appointment" at 3 weeks instead. Some weight loss is to be expected, but that was still quite low a week after. I was far from worried. She did have a grumply couple days waiting for my milk to come in, but now she's happy and full and sleeping well, with chins popping up everywhere, and an obvious increase to her heft. So I wasn't too surprised that she had gained back her birth weight, and then some, weighing in at 10 pounds, 2 ounces!

As most of you know, I gave birth to our second child, 3 weeks ago today. Our eldest daughter is 19 months old and we were naturally concerned with how she would react to having a sibling. And we had a home birth, with her present, to boot! And yet through it all, she has been a peach. Love, love, loves her baby sister. Is so gentle and kind. It just melts my heart.

And then, it all went a bit pear shaped.

Our wee babe was just 6 days old when we decided to take our first proper family outing, to Aldi & Trader Joe's (naturally!). We were at the door ready to leave...and my munchkin grabbed ahold of the door frame, so that when I opened the door, it kind of crushed her thumb. She was instantly hysterical, something we've never seen before. The nail turned black straight away, but it quickly started to bleed, which relieved a lot of the pressure under the nail. We stopped the bleeding, iced it a bit, gave loads of kisses and cuddles, and were ready to stay home on the sofa with a little heart-healing Scooby Doo. But she wouldn't have it. All she wanted to do was go to the store. So, we hesitantly loaded everyone up in the car, scrapped the trip to the north side and decided to go to a local produce shop a few blocks over instead. She whimpered, but she was a trooper, and we made it home with little incident.

But here's the catch. Our munchkin is a thumb sucker. Only that thumb. And we had no idea how an injury to THE thumb could cause total upheaval. Giving birth to a child, that was easy peasy. Having our toddler lose her main form of self-soothing and comfort, utter devastation! She's always sucked her thumb to sleep, so putting her down for naps & nighttime were long drawn out cry fests. And if she awoke during the night, she didn't know how to go back to sleep without her thumb, so she'd wake up fully for more crying. And then sometimes she'd try to pop her thumb in her mouth and take it out crying. I think the pressure of sucking would really intensify the pain. My poor little child. :(

So, now we're two weeks post-injury. And we're doing better. We've had 3 days of incident free sleeping. Huzzah! We've cut off most of the nail that had been pulling away from her thumb, but I think she'll eventually lose the whole thing. She does suck it in her sleep now, but not during the day - and not to go to sleep.

I've always wondered how and when we'd go about breaking this habit. Needless to say, this is not what I had in mind!

Breaking out my blogging shoes

So. I have a blog. Big whoop. Right? When I told my hubby that I was going to start a blog, he said, "I guess I just don't see the point." And honestly, I'm not sure I see it either, and yet, here I am.

I feel like I'm this constantly morphing, ever-the-same, blip on the radar, and I've got plenty to say about my ride. More to say than my hubby J cares to hear, I'm sure. So now I shall spew it out into the world wide ether, and see how it goes.