Best Day Ever!!!

I didn't move any mountains today.  I didn't cure cancer.  I didn't free any nations.  I did very basic things with my daughter and it was great.

First, we took the dog on a nice long walk.  That was cool.

I took my daughter to the local library.  I felt it was time for her to get a library card.  She was so excited and we checked out her first book, "Beezus and Ramona" by Beverly Cleary.  While I was there the librarian asked if I happened to have a library card.  Truth be told, I haven't had one since high school.  I am now the proud owner of a library card.  Since we had time, my daughter and I curled up on one of the library couches and we started reading her book.  It was nice.

Next we met up with some friends.  I am part of a Single Parents group.  We get together from time to time to do stuff with the kids.  Today we bowled.

After bowling the real fun started.  My daughter and I love Air Hockey. And I am an Air Hockey fiend....and quite good.  And I have to say, for an 8 year old...my kid is pretty good too.  I am sooo good at air hockey that in the years my ex-husband and I were together, he only beat me at air hockey once...and that's because I was trashed!  And then he just flat out refused to play air hockey with me.

Well, me and the kid were going back and forth pretty furiously and attracted an audience.  Mostly teenage boys and a few of the parents I was with.  At one point...I got challenged.  I played this kid...and I beat him.  I got challenged again by someone else...beat him too.  And everytime I won, my daughter would look at whatever teen was standing next to her and she would say proudly..."that's my mom!"

"THAT'S YOUR MOM?!?"

I finally did get beat.  But after each game, regardless of whether or not I won, I would shake hands with my opponent.  It was pretty cool.  But it was funny because each of these kids was soooo stunned that someone my age was sooo good at air hockey....because Air Hockey was invented last week.

Then we went to the Food Connection.  Its a huge food court like you would see at a mall, but its all Asian food.  And not the crappy asian food we would get at the mall, but the REAL STUFF!!  And my daughter ate it all up!!  And I topped off my meal with a Thai Iced Tea with mini boba!  Yum!

And then we came home...read some more...and called it a night.

It was a good day!

Its Time!

It was Valentines Day and I was sitting in my hospital bed.  I was never a fan of the holiday and now it was celebrating it in a hospital bed.  Ugh.  I was twiddling my thumbs and looking out the window.  The doctors were supposed to get back to me regarding my weekend furlough.

First one in...the husband carrying a big box of Godiva Chocolates.  So far the day was starting out with chocolate...not a bad start.

Then I was surprised by my friend Christina and her boyfriend Tan.  Tan was a good friend of my husbands from high school and I was so thrilled that he found himself the most wonderful girlfriend in the world.  They dropped by for a surprise visit.  They didn't know if I would like Mussles Fra Diavlo or Chicken Parm...so they brought me both.  I was so happy!

I got a craving that day for a large chocolate frappe.  And I got my wish.  I got my frappe!  So far, my day was going well.  And I completely forgot my doctors were supposed to get back to me about early release.

After my visitors left, I sat in bed watching Oprah.  It was exactly 8 years ago, but I remember the episode.  Oprah was talking to women who were not turned on by sex.  I thought it was kind of funny because sex is what got me into my current predicament.  They were talking about using porn to spice things up in your marriage.

I remember thinking that maybe that chocolate frappe was a mistake because now I had this stomach ache.  But then it went away.  And then it came back.  But then it went away.  And then it was back.....oh shit.

I noticed that stomach ache was getting very painful.  It didn't feel like a contraction..it felt like there were razor blades in my stomach.  I tried not to panic so I hit the call button.  I said I needed my nurse because I was in pain.  The receptionist fired back with "Your nurse is busy with someone else so your'e just gonna have to wait your turn."  The way she said it was really snotty.  I told her I understood that but something was wrong.  She replied "I said you have to wait!!"

"Listen!!  You get me my nurse or someone else's nurse now or I swear to God I am dragging my pregnant ass down to your desk and kicking your ass up and down the 11th floor!!"

"Nurse needed in room 1118...Nurse needed in room 1118!!"

Again I got hooked up to machines.  But this time nothing was coming up showing a contraction.  I could not believe it when a nurse asked me "Are you sure you're having pain?"

The attending OB came to my room and found that I was 2 centimeters dialated...and I had a fever.  That infection I had been warned about finally caught up with me. 

And I was taken to Labor and Delivery and this time it was really going to happen.  I called my husband, he was taking classes at night.  I called my mom...she was on her way... I called my in-laws..they were on their way too...this was not a drill.

While we waited for my husband to get there, my fever spiked.  I walked into the bathroom at one point, but when I shut the door behind me, it felt like I had walked into a meat locker.  I was so cold...and sporting a fever of 103.  My nurse covered me in blankets straight out of the dryer.  And the pain was getting worse.

Finally the anesthesiologist arrived.  I received anesthesia through a spinal injection.  The pain was finally gone, but I couldn't move from my chest down.  Easily the freakest thing I had ever gone through.

The husband finally arrived and into the operating room we went.  The doctors asked me what kind of music I wanted to listen to...I chose the blues.

It was wierd.  I remember lying there with a blue curtain across my chest.  I was curious to see what they were doing.  I even checked the reflections in eyglasses of the surgeons.  They were all wearing non-reflective lenses.

I guess that was a good thing.  The thing about c-sections is that you think they make a cut and lift out the baby.  That is the furthest from the truth.  The fact is that the mother is gutted like a fish.  First, there is the cut across your belly.  Then your intestines are moved aside.  Next your bladder is lifted out of your body and placed next to you on the operating table.  Now, they finally cut into the womb.  And finally, they pluck out the baby.  After, they put you back together again.

When I hear a woman say she wants to have a c-section because its easier, I know she is ill informed.

I was under the impression that everything was going well.  However, doctors have a funny way of speaking and my then-husband pays very good attention.

"So I went golfing last week at that new resort....the baby is stuck.....and I got to break out the new golf clubs....I can't get the baby out....I was in the clubhouse and they have a new chef....she's bleeding alot....I was really impressed with the new menu....we're running out of time....The fish was really fresh....

I turned to my anesthesiologist and asked, "I feel really sleepy, is it ok if I close my eyes for a little bit?"

He responded with a very panicked "What?!"  And then I lost consciousness.

At that same moment the surgeon yelled at a nurse "We need O-Postive."  According to my ex-husband the doctors shifted into over-drive.  I was loosing blood.  The baby was stuck.  Both of us were running out of time.

Although I was unconscious...I remember stuff.  I remember after I closed my eyes I was in a dark place.  It felt like I was wrapped in the most wonderful comforter and tucked inside a peapod just my size.  I had never been so comfortable in my life.  And I thought to myself, "Wow, I could sleep forever!"  I was so at peace and warm.  I remeber that everthing was black..but I could see there was some kind of light.  And I turned to see where that light was coming from....

And then I woke up!  A surgeon announced my sudden consciousness with "She's back!"

Back?  I was only out for 30 seconds...right?  Wrong.  I was unconscious for over 10 minutes while I was bleeding to death.  But the bleeding was finally under control. 

They finally got the baby out. 

For the whole month I was in the hospital I was told to be prepared, when a baby is born a preemie sometimes their lungs are under developed and they can't cry.  They took the baby from my body and carried it to the other side of the room to waiting nurses and specialists.  And I waited.

Then I heard a screetch so hellacious that it split the air in the room in two!

"What the hell was that?!?!?"

A chorus of doctors and nurses shouted "It's your daughter!!!"

I had a little girl.  And she had perfect lungs!  And then she stopped screaming.  Basically, one scream is all she needed.  They wrapped her in a blanket and gave her a pink hat.  Because she needed to go to the NICU, they held her up in front of me before taking her away.  I didn't get a chance to hold her.  But she was just looking around.  She was observing everything.  And then she looked right at me.  She looked me straight in the eyes and it felt like she was looking directly into my soul.  I felt naked.

And I felt ashamed.  She was so magnificent and so incredible.  And I felt absolutely unworthy.  I felt she needed someone better than me.  Someone worthy enough to call themselves her mother.  I took a deep breath and looked her back in the eye and thought to myself..."I may not feel like I'm good enough, but I'm all she's got...so be better!"

Then I felt the strangest thing.  I felt something come alive inside of me.  It wasn't a warm, fluffy, tv mom kind of thing.  It was something ferocious.  What I felt was similar to the sound a cougar makes.  And I instantly knew what it was.  I was now a mother.  From that point forward and for the rest of my life I know that without thinking I would lay down my life to protect my child.  And if I had to, I would be capable of taking someone's life to protect my child.  My child had become my prime directive and I was now a different person.  What came alive inside of me was the most primitive mothering instinct to protect her young.

My husband walked over to see his daughter.  He looked at the doctors cleaning me up.  He said he nearly passed out.  He had never seen so much blood in his life.

I didn't find out that I nearly died until the next day.

My daughter was born on 02/14/2001 at 9:30pm.  She weighed 3lbs, 11oz.  She was a miracle baby because her only problem was that she was small.  She was responsive.  Her lungs were perfect.  But she was tiny.  In fact, she was only in the NICU for 8 hours.  She was too healthy to be there.  I never had to step into that horrible place again. 

She was moved to level 2.  It was the nursery for babies who were not in such dire straights that they needed the NICU, but they still needed a little extra help.

So now you know.  This is how my monkey doodle made her big debut.  Bringing her into this world was no easy task.  And I would easily crawl over glass for my daughter.  Which makes me so angry at women like the octuplet mom or the Gloucester 17.  Brining a child into this world is no easy task.  It is not a game!  And its not for the faint of heart.

When I go to the market with my daughter, sometimes I joke with her and tell her that when she was born she weighed less than the chicken we're having for dinner.  It makes her laugh, but its true. 

And today she is 8 years old.

A Postcard From the Edge.....

A funny thing happens when you are on bed rest for an extended period of time...you slowly lose your mind.  It may sound funny and some of my story is funny...but in then end I know I took a temporary leave of my faculties and its not a place I ever want to go to again.

~~~

On my first day in the hospital, Dr. Greene decided that I should take a test for gestational diabetes.  I explained to him that I had a test done less than two weeks ago and that I had a clean bill of health.  But Dr. Greene insisted and I had to drink a sugary soda like substance.  Now here’s the thing.  When I took the test two weeks earlier, my womb was filled with amniotic fluid and I could feel the baby having a great time on a sugar high.  This time there was no fluid...and the baby was kicking fiercly...and there was no fluid buffering the kicks.  I laid there in pain for two hours waiting for the kicking to stop.  My child was literally kicking my ass from the inside out.  All the nurses could do was hold my hand and tell me they were sorry and assure me that Dr. Greene was the top doctor in world when it came to gestational diabetes.  Turns out that part was true, but that doesn’t excuse him from being a jackass.  When the test came back it showed no signs of gestational diabetes...just like I said.

~~~

I was at Mass General for over 30 days waiting for my baby to make her big debut.  And I had nothing but time on my hands.  Time to spare, loads of time, time to burn...just time...alone.
At first I tried to keep busy.  I made huge lists of what the doctors would tell me.  That way any visitor coming to see me could read it and keep up with what my doctors were saying.  It helped fill my time, and it got old having to repeat the same information over and over again, every day.  And when there was more news, I updated the list.

I had a great view of the Charles River.  It was nice watching the cars dart back and forth on Storrow and Memorial drive.  I’d see people making their way around.  It was January and it was cold.  I found that late in the day when the temperature drops, the Charles River freezes into a solid sheet of ice.  When the sun rises the next morning and the river defrosts, the ice breaks apart in perfect squares.  I thought that was kind of odd and spent a lot of time thinking about it, after all I had nothing better to do.  When I would redo my lists I would doodle squares in the margins of the paper.

~~~

There are certain things you figure out when you are in the hospital for such a long time.  One of the things I will never forget is the ketchup.  Lets say you would like to order a cheese burger and fries for lunch.  When your lunch gets there, you only get one ketchup.  So you have to decide.  Will the ketchup go on the burger?  Or the fries?  Sure you can ask the lunch lady if you can have another ketchup, but one of three things will happen.  One...she’ll forget.  Two...She’ll remember, but she will bring the ketchup after your lunch is cold.  Or three...she’ll remember and bring you the ketchup after your tray has been cleared away.

So just to be sure I always had a spare ketchup I started ordering ketchup with each meal.  And I would tuck it away in my nightstand in the event I would have some ketchup related emergency.

About three weeks into my stay, my then husband brought me some magazines he thought I would like.  “I’m just going to put them in your nightstand.”  Imagine his surprise when he opened my the drawer to see 60 packets each of ketchup, mustard, salt and pepper.  He took some ketchup in his hands and was in complete disbelief, “Soni, why do you have so many...”
He never finished the sentence before I went absolutely ballistic.  “Those are mine!!  You can’t have them!!  They’re for me!!  Put them back!  PUT THEM BACK NOW!!!  THEY’RE MINE!!!!”

My life had gone on without me.  And I was sitting in a hospital room and I had control over NOTHING.  Nothing except the ketchup.  If I saved the ketchup packets, that was something in my control.  I think it was pretty obvious that I was losing my mind.

~~~

One of the saddest things I saw happened on my way to an ultrasound.  An orderly came to take me to my test.  My room was all the way at the end of the hall.  As he wheeled me down the hall I peeked into everyone’s room.  Room after room was exactly the same.  In each room, a single solitary pregnant woman sat in her bed and stared out the window.  And I knew when my test was over and I was taken back to my room, I would assume the same position and look out the window like all those other women and watch my life go on without me.

~~~

It really wasn’t a long jump from ketchup hording to all out delusional.  

I would sit in my room and stare at things.  Stare out the window.  Stare at the TV.  Stare at the floor and count the tiles.  Stare at the wall paper.  It was pretty, very light pink stripes with a swirly border at the ceiling.  I made a joke once that the stripes were like prison bars and the swirly border was like barbed wire.  I would think about how much I wanted to go home and how I couldn’t  because I was sick.  And then it turned into how I wanted to go home but couldn’t because they would say no.  And finally, I wanted to go home, but they wouldn’t let me leave.  And it didn’t help that I was in a locked ward.  You needed to hit a buzzer to get in or out.

Because I am naturally a silly person, I spent my days thinking up escape plots.  I got a lot of amusement out of it.  I think I started after I saw a movie with Clint Eastwood in it and how he and a few others escaped from a prison, it may have been Alcatraz.  I would think about tying the sheets together and repelling down the side of the building.  Or hiding among the linens.

While I was in the hospital, the only time I was allowed to get out of bed was to take a shower or use the toilet.  Those were big field trips for me.  One morning I took a shower and when I opened the closet to get a fresh set of pajamas I noticed a bag.  My mom had brought back my clothes from the night my water broke.  I had clean clothes, socks, panties...everything.  Hmmmmm.....then I checked my coat pockets.  I found my house keys and $5.  That was enough for a train ride to my town and a cab ride home.

I was giddy!  I was finally going to leave.  I climbed into bed and hatched my plan.  I would wait until 5:00pm to change my clothes.  The floor got busy after 5:00 because that’s when visitors would start arriving.  I would get dressed, keep my head down and walk out as someone was walking in.

I remember I was fully dressed and I was putting on my coat when I heard a familiar voice,
“Soni....what are you doing?”

I was busted.  My mother, godmother and god-sister were standing at the door.  

“I got tired of wearing pajamas, so I thought I’d get dressed for a little while”

My god-sister was very gentle.  She told me she understood.  And said “Let’s get back into bed.”  I slinked back into bed, defeated.  It wasn’t long until the whole family knew of my botched escape attempt.  My brother in law said he could imagine the headline in his head “Crazy Woman Escapes MGH to Give Birth on Train.”  My mother left that night with my keys and my $5.  

Traitor.

~~~

It was a weekend and I had a new nurse.  She had gotten the idea in her head that I would benefit from a trip to the NICU, the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.  There was a very high chance that my baby would have to spend some time in the NICU and Nurse Ratchet felt I would benefit from visiting the NICU so I would know what to expect.  I told her that I didn’t think it was a good idea.  I didn’t much enjoy visiting the ICU to visit a dying adult, now I have to see dying babies?  I didn’t thing it would be good for me to see sick babies.  She just stood there and smiled and said ok.

During the day she managed to get my husband alone and explained to him that I would benefit from a trip to the NICU.  Knowing that I didn’t want to go, he caved, he took her side.  The two of them ganged up on me and told me how it would be good for me to see the NICU.  Next think I know, I’m in a wheel chair and we’re on our way.

I saw things that no expectant mother should ever see.

I saw babies that were no bigger than the palm of my hand.  I saw babies that were so covered in tubes and wires, that all you could see of them was a foot or maybe a finger.  I saw babies who could only breath with the help of a machine.  I saw that the nurses station had baptismal robes behind the desk in case a baby had to be baptized before it died.  I saw mothers sitting in rocking chairs, staring glassy eyed and stone faced at incubators.

I started to notice that it was really hot in the NICU, I was sweating and I was having trouble breathing.

Another nurse joined us.  Nurse Ratchet says “This is the patient I was telling you about.”  They wheeled me over to an incubator to show me a baby who was born at 26 weeks.  He looked like a potato wrapped in a blanket, he didn’t even look human.  And then he opened his eyes and it was like I was looking at a dead baby who suddenly opened its eyes.

The room started spinning.  I couldn’t even speak, I could only make a bleating noise.  All Nurse Ratchet could say was “Doesn’t he look great?”  At least the other nurse realized I was not doing well and asked if I was ok...I couldn’t answer her.  She turned to my husband and asked “Does she speak English?”

“JUST GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!”

The nurses kept telling me to calm down and that everything would be ok.  

“GET ME OUT OF HER NOW OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL WALK OUT!”

All I got was more cooing that it would be ok.  I stood up out of my wheel chair and ripped the IV out of my arm and walked out leaving a trail of amniotic fluid and blood behind me.

The ward was locked.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR YOU BITCH!!!”

The trip back to my hospital room was filled with apologies.  I laid in my bed looking out the window at my frozen Charles River.  I was so angry with my husband for not taking my side.  I know what I can handle and what I can’t.  He sided with a nurse and not his wife.  I couldn’t even look at him.  I just stared at the river and told him to get the hell out.  

Then I sobbed for two hours.

After I calmed down a bit Nurse Ratchet was back, “I’m sorry, I thought you could handle it.”

“I told you I didn’t want to go, I told you it was a bad idea but you didn’t listen to me.  NOW GET THE FUCK OUT!!”

~~~

The next morning, the attending physician came to see me.  Every week there was a different doctor who did rounds.  He was the first doctor I saw when I entered the hospital a month earlier.  And now he was back on rounds.  I had made it all the way back to the top of the rotation.

“Hi Mrs. McNair.  How are you today?”
“I want to go home.”
“Oh I understand, for women on bed rest it can be very frustrating to spend so much time in the hospi....”
“No, you’re not listening to me.  I’m not a prisoner here.  I know my rights.  I’m going home today.  Please bring me my discharge papers.  I’m signing myself out and I’m going home.”

I had never seen a doctor look so panicked in my life.

“Please.  Just give me 10 minutes, just 10 minutes!”

“FIVE!”

And that man ran down the hall like a bat out of hell.  And I was crazy enough to time him.  It was 4 minutes and 26 seconds.  He was back with the head of nursing and the head of Obstetric Psychiatry.  Apparently there is a whole school of psychiatry dedicated soley to pregnant women.

For the next 45 minutes I basically heard pleading, “What can we do to make you stay?”  “How about a weekend pass”  “How about time with a therapist?”  They tried everything to make me stay.  And finally I gave in, “I will stay if I can go home on weekends otherwise I am outta here!”  They promised that they would do everything they can to plead my case to the rest of obstetrics.  After all, I was there for over a month.  I had gone through 4 roommates.  I was there longer than any other patient currently on the floor.  And it was perfectly obvious that I was losing my grip on reality.

The date was February 13, 2001.

And It Got Worse....

Aside from the progesterone scare, my pregnancy was going well.

The baby was growing normally and loved to kick.  I was 6 months along and was very careful about not over eating so I only gained 14 pounds.  Since diabetes ran in my family I was very careful not to overeat.  Gestational diabetes was the last thing I wanted.  My blood pressure was normal.  And I was the cutest little pregnant woman ever!

One night I climbed into bed.  Since my belly was growing, it was starting to get difficult to find a comfortable position. I moved.  And then my bed was wet.  Did I pee on myself?  Why the hell was my bed wet?

I stood up and a flood poured from between my legs.

We called the doctor who asked if I was sure it was urine.  "Of course its urine!"  I was adamant!  After all, I knew my body.  I was absolutely appauled at the thought of wearing Depends for the rest of my pregnancy!

"Well, you should come in and let me check you out."

Off I was to the hospital.

Upon arriving I was hooked up to a couple of machines.  There was lots of beeping and long strips of paper.  Every now and then the doctor would come in, look at the strips of paper, purse her lips and walk out.  I kept expecting her to come back in and tell me that I had some minor thing.  That all I needed was a prescription and a few days of rest.

That never happened.

The longer I waited, the more pursed her lips got, the more I knew that what was wrong was no little thing.

"Ok....we're going to move you up to labor and delivery..."
"Labor and delivery?!?  Why?"
"Because you're in labor.."

I felt some tightening around my abdomen towards my back.  I didn't know that was a contraction.  And I was only 6 months along.

That was easily the longest night of my life.  I thought that because I was living a wild life, God was punishing me by taking my baby.  I asked to see the chaplain and I had confession.  Something I hadn't done in 12 years.  I even forgot the act of contrition.  But he was a nice priest from Nigeria who prayed for my daughter.  I said that God was punishing me.

He then explained something to me that I will never forget.  He said that the Virgin Mary had to go through the pain of watching her son die on the cross.  And she did everything right in her life.  And she still suffered for her child.  She was perfect and she still had to go through that pain.  Basically, God wasn't playing favorites and he wasn't punishing me.

He then gave me Plenitary Absolution...my soul was a clean slate.  I have screwed that up since then.

I made it through the night and my labor subsided. 

My doctors told me that I was lucky.  I had gone through premature membrane rupture.  The bag that the baby is in popped and all the fluid came out.  Luckily, in these cases, the mother's body continues making more fluid.

My job was to do nothing.  My job was to lie down and stare at the walls and do nothing.  And I should continue doing this until I go into real labor.  And because my membrane had ruptured, I was at a higher risk of developing an infection that could kill the baby.  So I had to lie there, staring at the walls, in the hospital...while the rest of my life went on without me.

And I didn't know how long my life would go on without me.  I could be on bedrest for a few days and give birth to a severely premature child or I could be on bed rest for 3 months and give birth to a full term baby.

And I started the clock...

High Risk....

Thanks to my Polycystic Ovarian Disease Syndrome...or whatever...I knew my pregnancy would be difficult.   From the second that second blue line appeared in my pregnancy test I was labeled high risk.

My first trimester was pretty uneventful aside from the heartburn I could feel in my knees!  I sometimes wonder if I was born to be a mother or if I was born to be a nurse.  I guess it could be both.  As my body changed, things started to hurt.  I remember a cousin of mine was pregnant years before and every time she felt the slightest sting or pain, off she ran to the hospital.  When I felt those same pains I knew that my body was making room for a growing baby.  I assumed that if my ligaments were stretching, then that's probably what hurt.  It was pretty instinctual.

I went to my doctor for regular exams and blood work.

I came home from work one day and I found a message waiting for me.  It was the nurse practitioner from my doctors office.  "Hi Sonia...this is Jane...just wanted to let you know that I got the results from you blood tests back and everything looks great...ummm...can you call me as soon as you get this message...here's my direct number..."

Turns out that my progesterone level dropped below normal.  Just to be safe, Jane wanted me to go to the local hospital and get an ultrasound to make sure everything was ok.  And after my ultrasound I should drop by to see her.

No big whoop.  I went to the ultrasound.  Everything seemed normal and off I went to see Jane.

When she walked into the waiting room she seemed absolutely floored that I was there.  But she called me into her office none the less...

"Did you get the ultrasound?"
"Yep"
"What did they say?"
"They said everything was fine and the baby is normal."
"YOU MEAN ITS STILL ALIVE?!?!?"

Apparently progesterone is a very important hormone.  No progesterone...no baby.  And my progesterone level was nearly non-existent. 

Everyone assumed that the baby was already dead.  So what they were actually doing was sending me off for the ultrasound to confirm my pregnancy was over.  And I was supposed to get a dilation and curettage (a D&C) after the ultrasound.  My progesterone level was so low that no one expected the baby to still be alive.  So seeing me sitting in the waiting room without a care in the world was quite shocking to the medical staff.

For the next weeks, I needed to take progesterone suppositories to keep the pregnancy going.

I had come so close to having a miscarriage.

Little did I know...the worst was yet to come.

When My Daughter Saved My Life.....

I was 9 years old when I first got my period.

I figured that would get your attention!  And now that I have it, its best to start at the beginning.

I was very young when I got my period.  My mom and my doctor told me how this now meant that I was becoming a woman.  My pediatrician...a horrible, horrible shrew of a woman by the way....gave me the run down on what it meant to have my period.  I remember she said that if you have your period, it was now possible to carry a baby.

I didn't think about that until 5 years later.

I was 14 years old and my period was horribly irregular.  It would come and hang out for weeks...and then go away and not come back for months.  I was put through a slew of tests to find out why my period was irregular.  And at 14, I was told it was Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome...now its Polycystic Ovarian Disease..not sure why its a disease now, but that is neither here nor there. 

I was told that this syndrome/disease would make it very difficult to have babies and even harder to carry them to term.  That's kind of a lot for a 14 year old to take in.  My doctor didn't know what to make of the tears...my mom made it worse by telling me that I should keep this a secret and not tell anyone in the family.  After all, I was damaged now.  What would people think if they knew I couldn't have children?

I dealt with the news as the years went on.  In college..it meant that I didn't have to worry about getting pregnant like the other girls.  After college, it meant that I could focus on my career without getting bogged down with children.  After all...they were huge career killers. 

This is what I told myself.

Life goes on....and I got married.  (I remember when...I remember where...its the "why" that I am a bit fuzzy on these days.)

I got a job at a local news station working for peanuts, but it was a foot in the door to the TV news industry.  I had to be at work from 2am to 10am.  The hours sucked...but I loved my job..I loved my life...I was having a great time.

Maybe I was having too good a time...

When I was growing up, my life was very black and white.  For example....doing drugs?  That was bad!  Eating your veggies?  That was good!  Now I was older, and loving my life, and going out, and having fun....and those black and white issues soon started presenting shades of gray.  Like drugs....a little booze here... a little pot there...

And then people started mentioning other drugs...ecstacy... cocaine...pills...and the idea of trying them was not entirely out of the question.  I remember a friend saying to me that the next time he scored some coke he would let me try some...and it didn't seem like a bad idea to me.  After all...I could handle it as long as it was only once.

Well, I was young... or at least younger than I am now.  And my husband and I decided that since we were young and had no children that we should have as much fun as we could!  Taking spontaneous road trips, going out and doing stuff, and having sex every day!  And we had a blast!  Those were the days!

I remember it was now roughly August of 2000.  My husband pointed out that I needed to go to the gym because I put on a few pounds.  And I was off to the gym to try to stay in shape...but I was so tired.  I was tired all the time and no matter how much sleep I got...I was still tired...exhausted...spent.  My husband told me that I was being lazy and that if I got to the gym like I promised I would..then I would feel energized.

It wasn't working.

I had this friend at work, Amanda.  Everyday I came in with a new idea about what was wrong with me.  Maybe I needed more sleep...maybe I was anemic...maybe I should eat more protien...or more vegetables...maybe I needed a vacation or a daily vitamin.  Finally after a week she says "Maybe you should just go to the doctor!"  I think she got annoyed with my constant whining.

I had an appointment coming up with my GYN anyway and I figured she could run a test for anemia.

One of my jobs at the news station was to run the teleprompter.  This is what news anchors read while on the air.  Its kind of important...if you don't do it right the anchors look like deer in headlights.  I would read the screen along with them...if I couldn't see what they were reading, that meant they couldn't see it either so I had to make the text roll accordingly.  I had gotten so good at this that I could read along with them, adjust the text and plan the rest of my day in my head at the same time.

So the anchor was reading the news and in my head I was running down my symptoms....severe fatigue...weight gain...nausea...heart burn...disgust of chicken in all forms...increased appitite....OH SHIT.....

All of a sudden everything was going in slow motion and I tried to wrap my head around one thought:

"I'M KNOCKED UP!"

And I stood there...like a deer in headlights.

And so did the anchor because the text stopped dead in its tracks!  All of a sudden I heard the director SCREAMING into my headset, "JESUS CHRIST!! PROMPTER!!! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THE PROMPTER!!!!"

Later that afternoon I sat in my doctors office.  We did the usual GYN things.  And finally I said "I think I may be anemic because I'm not feeling well.  But....just to be sure...let's also do a pregnancy test...just to rule it out."

The doctor smiled...and gave me a look that said "Uh- huh...sure...lets just rule it out...ok...whatever you want to call it."

We did the test.  Three little drops of pee go into a little window of a test.  I was told that I would see a blue line form, that would mean the test was working.  If I saw a second blue line, it meant I was pregnant.

So I waited...and there was the first blue stripe..."Oh well, I didn't think I was pregnant anyway."  But my doctor said "Wait, you have to give it a minute."

So I waited.  And I saw a blue dot.  And another blue dot.  And another...and another..and all those dots formed a second blue line.

I was pregnant.

All those years I was told it was never going to happen for me.  And I was pregnant.  I had another human being living inside my body.  And I burst into tears.  I remember my doctor panicking asking me if this was a bad thing and telling me I had options.  But they were really happy, shocked tears. 

I was no longer damaged.

After I left the doctors office, I went to the bookstore and picked up a copy of "What to Expect when Expecting."  And then I went to the supermarket to buy fruits, vegetables, juices, vitamins, granola...all sorts of happy healthy things. 

In one instance I knew that what ever I put in my body would be shared with the little person inside of me.  A little person who was depending on my to do the right thing.  After all, I was this little persons mother and it was my job to do the right thing.

Now here's the thing...my pregnancy was full of complications and was high risk....any anyone who knew me at the time says that I did everything I could to bring my daughter into this world..to save her life.

But it was really my daughter who saved my life. 

Addiction runs in my family.  And I know now that I have the potential to be an outstanding alcoholic or drug addict.  Its just part of who I am and that's why I keep that part of me in check at all times.

I think that if I didn't get pregnant when I did, I would have gone ahead and tried all of those drugs.  And I would probably be a junkie right now...or dead.  But there was no way in hell I was going to put drugs in my body knowing I was pregnant with my child. 

So in that regard...

My daughter saved my life.

Wow... My Kid is Growing Up!!!

It has come to my attention that in a few days my daughter will be 8 years old.

I'm having a lot of trouble dealing with this.  She is my one and only baby and she is growing up so quickly!

And no matter what I do, she won't stop!!

I have asked nicely.  I have made firm requests.  I have tried bribery.  I have flat out told her to stop it!  And soon I will resort to plain old begging.  But no matter what I do...she won't stop this "growing up" thing!!

Its the subtle changes that kill me.  She used to have these cute chubby little feet, now they're not chubby anymore.  And she has lost most of her baby fat.  And where the hell did she get long legs from?!?!?  She certainly didn't get them from me!

And now she's concerned about cute shoes...her hair...and she's having all these opinions!
And she argues with me!

And she thinks like a lawyer!!!! 

Today in the supermarket, we were picking out snacks for school.  She wanted to buy these big hunks of fudge.  I said no because its candy and her school does not allow candy as a snack.

She looked at the fudge and said, "Mommy...fudge is like chocolate.  Chocolate is a candy...but if I bring chocolate chip cookies for a snack its ok.  So I can eat candy as long as its in a cookie.... so I should be able to have the candy without the cookie!  Why does the cookie make the candy ok?"

How do you respond to that?!?! 

All I could say was "BECAUSE I SAID SO!!"  And I felt like a dumbass saying that because I didn't know what else to say to that!

So in the upcoming days....I will be posting a blog here and there about my daughter in celebration of her upcoming birthday.