a lesson in appreciation
Current mood: smitten

Someone asked me recently if having a baby made me appreciate my own mother more, and I felt bad when my answer was, "I hadn't thought about it." Not thinking about it may have had something to do with that time's lack of sleep, though.
The more I thought about it, I can say that it doesn't necessarily make me appreciate her more, because I'd like to think I always appreciated her (even if I didn't always show it); but more than that it made me appreciate what she and my dad went through when I was born.
You see, my twin brother and I were born nearly 12 weeks premature. Nowadays 12 weeks early isn't a dire situation, but 32 years ago it was. My twin, John, was only 2lbs 9oz and he passed away when we were one day old. My dad was the only one to see John alive, in the ICU. My poor mom, who wasn't able to wear her glasses during the birth, saw only a blur before he was wisked away. I was 3lbs 4 oz, and was also rushed to the ICU.
I remember, years later, my mom telling me that John opened his eyes and looked at my dad the last time my dad was able to visit him before he passed away. As for me, I was born with a perforated bowel that nearly needed surgery. When I was a week or so old, I went into seizures, stopped breathing and had to be rushed to the children's hospital across the river in Philadelphia. For some reason the hospital couldn't get a hold of my parents by phone, so they were notified by a police officer (one of my dad's co-workers) ringing their doorbell in the middle of the night.
Fast forward 32 years and I had my and munk's baby girl, Raegan Sophia. As soon as she was born, I said I thought she looked like my grandmother (with fewer wrinkles, of course).
I told that to my parents, and my dad kept staring at her sleeping face, trying to figure out who he thought she looked like. It suddenly dawned on him -- Raegan looked exactly like John. The realization hit my dad so hard that he had to leave the room to go to the bathroom and break down. He later broke down again when he told my mom. I, of course, didn't find this out until the next day. And I broke down when they told me; I always wondered what John looked like, I always craved some link to the twin I never knew.
My dad is a rock, I think he's literally made of steel -- he had to be in order to endure his tenure in the worst city in America. I only saw him cry once, when his mother died. My mom said she only saw my dad cry twice -- when John died and when his mother died.
The older I get, the more I can see where my parents are coming from, and becoming a mom has made me understand it even more. Obviously, it's awful when anyone loses a child, but I never thought about how much it hurt my parents because they never let it show. Their's was a private grief. But having my princess Raegan helps make me understand how it was for them. My peanut is strong and healthy, but I think I would die if anything ever happened to her.
I think that, for my parents, losing a child made them want to hold my brothers and me a little bit closer than we necessarily may have liked. But I can relate to that now. You always know you're going to love your child. The thing is, no one tells you how all-consuming that love will be, how over-whelming. Raegan is 12 weeks old and there are still many times that I stare at her as she's sleeping and start to cry because I just love her so much -- more than any words can even begin to express.
I don't see any of my staring and crying ending anytime soon, either.

12:10 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

lessons from the innocents
Current mood: blessed

Those of you who know me (and if you're actually reading this, chances are you do know me) know munk and I have dog name Mr. Rory Mo Pena. Rory is the most quirky dog I have ever come into contact with. Seriously.

But along with all of his idiosyncracies, this dog LOVES. He loves with every ounce, every furry fiber of his being. He's also the most giving, empathetic dog I've ever met.

You see, Rory has bad separation anxiety and when we first got him toys did not last very long. We'd buy him stuffed animals and one by one they all met untimely death in a separation anxiety attack. Until he got his stuffed monkey. Rory carried Monkey everywhere. He'd even bring Monkey to the couch and place him ever so gently on the back facing the window. Then Rory would rest his head next to Monkey and together they'd daydream out the window. If one of us was upset or angry for some reason, or we got hurt (either accidentally by the klutzy pup or by banging a foot on the metal frame of the coffee table), Rory would run and fetch Monkey and place him in our laps. Many mornings one of us would wake up to find Monkey resting on a pillow next to our side of the bed.

Over the last 2+ years we've had this dog, I've begun to look at some of his quirks as life lessons.
Here is what I think he's been trying to teach us:

*Persistence -- no matter how much trouble he may get in, he will continue to yell at dogs out the window
*Selflessness -- Rory now has quite the menagerie of stuffed animal "babies" and he often leaves them for us. The other night he left Squirrel in front of Trey's bedroom door, Puppy was next to munk's computer chair, and he left Raegan a cookie next to her crib (I was given Squirrel as a "wake-up" gift a previous morning)
*Don't live in the past -- Each day is a new day; wake up with your tail wagging
*Take care of your family no matter what (a lesson also learned from my father who is a human "pit bull" in his own right)
*Apologize when you make a mistake

And my number one peanut, my little Raegan Sophia? She's only 9weeks old, but she is teaching me something in which no one in my 32 years has had success. She is teaching me patience.

I'm definitely a work in progress -- some days are good and some I fail miserably. But the most important thing is I'm trying. And I have two of the most innocent creatures in my life to thank for it.

6:28 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Photo contest

Help my baby girl win $2500 and start her college fund by voting for her in the Great American Photo Contest -- Cutest Baby!

Go here to vote!

Thanks for your help!

7:43 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

We survived the first month!
Current mood: accomplished

Miss Raegan Sophia turned one-month old yesterday, and I'm happy to say that we all survived the first four weeks. Things got a little hairy for a bit, but we managed to plug along and get through it.

The first 2 weeks were a breeze, aside from the lack of sleep. Munk was home for his paternity leave, we tag-teamed everything, and we make a great team.
Then he went back to work.
Just as I felt like I was getting into a routine on my own, the ugly "C" word reared it's head.

Colic.

I'll tell ya, there is nothing worse than being a new mom, alone for the better part of the day, and having your baby scream for hours on end, with absolutely nothing soothing her. Trust me, I tried it all -- swaddling, un-swaddling, rocking, bouncing, feeding, changing diapers, burping, putting the carseat on top of the running dryer. I tried gas drops, gripe water, a different formulas. Nothing worked. Made me feel like a crappy mom -- why couldn't I make my baby feel better??

Late last week I tried my last-ditch effort with yet another formula that is marketed to reduce colic symptoms within 48-hours or less. There was no way I could mentally deal with the colic lasting 3-4 months, as the doctor said it could -- 1 and 1/2 weeks of it and I was in tears every night. Low-and-behold, within 8 hours of starting the new formula, our little peanut smiled at her daddy, had far less tension in her face, and her eyes looked less glassy. Within days she was crying less, and sleeping more; thankfully, we got back the infant we brought home from the hospital.

Now we're getting back into the swing of things, and better able to bond and have quality time together like we should.

5:01 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Am I speaking English??
Current mood: curious

Sometimes I feel as if I begin speaking Swahili or Esperanto once I get to work. Which is pretty impressive if I can start speaking in foreign tongues and not even realize it.
Day in and day out, I say something to a patient and they do the opposite or stare blankly.

me, "You can put your things/coat/hat/purse/book here (motion to chair)."
And the patient promptly sits in the chair.
me, "No, not you, just your things. You're going to sit here (motion to chair in sound-treated booth)."
And the patient stares blankly.

OR

me, "Turn your head toward me, please?"
The patient turns their head further away, or puts it down, or looks up at the ceiling.

OR
me, "Watch your step (motion to step up into sound-treated booth)."
Patient promptly trips on step.

And my favorite:
me, "Can you hear me in your left/right ear?"
patient, "No."
me, "You can't hear me?"
patient, "No."
me, "If you can't hear me, then how can you answer me?"

Now, I know you're thinking, "But, Jennifer, you deal with deaf/hard-of-hearing people! Of course they don't hear you!"
Let me tell you something, I've been administering hearing tests for 10 years. I'm really good at assessing, in the first few seconds of meeting a patient, what they're general level of hearing acuity is. I say "general" because I obviously don't know how they hear down to the specific frequency, but it's fairly easy to judge in the first few seconds how loudly I need to speak. And let me tell you, I speak loudly and clearly at work.
You can also get a good idea based on the patient's age and medical history. But my entire patient-load is not deaf or hard-of-hearing. There are plenty of people I see who have perfectly normal hearing. They can hear, they just don't listen.
And it's this lack of listening that makes my job so frustrating at times. I don't mind the patients who truly cannot hear what I'm saying. But when you come to an office seeking help for a problem, the least you can do is listen to the instructions given.

7:19 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

My afternoon of pampering
Current mood: refreshed

It’s no secret that I’m slowly getting more and more uncomfortable as each day passes.
It’s no secret that I can’t wait until the pregnancy is over and we get to meet our little one.
In order to help me cope with the last stage of the pregnancy, my sweet munk booked me an appointment for a pregnancy massage at a spa on Quincy’s waterfront, and I got to go today. Let me tell you, it was absolutely wonderful! I came out of there feeling better than I have in a very long time. And on top of it all, the spa was able to fit me in for a haircut after the massage. It was an afternoon of pampering, and I needed it more than I can even express.
I am so thankful for my munk and the fact that he takes such good care of me, and has been such a wonderful support throughout the last 31 weeks (and nearly 4 years ;) ).

6:04 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

I’m not fat, I’m pregnant!
Current mood: bullied

It's less than 3 months (give or take) until the newest little Ciano joins the world. Yesterday I had my latest doctor appointment, and I met yet another doctor in the practice in an attempt to not have a strange face delivering munk's and my child. I had heard stories about this guy -- great doctor, can be very blunt -- so I was prepared. Somewhat.
I went in, got my weight (never fun), my blood pressure (surprisingly low given the morning I was having), had blood drawn to check for gestational diabetes, and sat patiently on the paper covered table for the doctor to come in.
He breezed in, took a look at my chart, and proceeded to lecture me about my weight gain, especially over the last 4 weeks. He asked me what I had for breakfast that morning (Cheerios), with what kind of milk I used(skim), what I had for dinner the night before (two slices of pizza). I was blind-sided, to say the least. Then he went on to lecture me about eating healthy, no more drinking juice (too much sugar), etc etc. He told me what my total weight gain is projected to be, and that essentially, with each pregnancy, you never lose those last 10 pounds "unless you're a hardcore athlete."
He listened to the baby's heartbeat, which was higher than usual, then asked me if I knew why the baby's heartbeat was so high. All I could think is, "Because I'm hideously fat??" but I just say, "No, why?" He said it was from all the sugar in the glucose drink I had for my GD test, and it's the baby's way of saying, "Shut up, doc, let her go eat something."
When I left the office, my head was spinning due a combination of high amounts of sugar in my system, lack of food, and the fact that I'm too fat. What the hell am I going to eat for lunch now???
Now, it's bad enough that hormones are raging, I'm emotionally unstable, haven't had a good night's sleep in God-knows-how-long, and I feel like a whale, but to have someone -- in no uncertain terms -- tell me I'm too heavy is like a knife in the heart. Despite my weight gain, I thought I looked pretty good. My clothes still fit, I can still wear my wedding and engagement rings, I can still even fit into some pre-pregnancy shirts, and people are just now (as I start my 7th month) starting to ask me when I'm due. But after my doctor visit, honestly all I wanted was a piece of cake. A big piece of cake.
I managed to hold it together for the remainder of the day, trying to push aside just how incredibly emotionally beaten I felt. But when I got home, I just sobbed into munk's shoulder. I sobbed so hard, you would've thought someone died. Needless to say, munk does not like this doctor one bit and is hoping he's not the one in the delivery room with us.
Once I calmed down, munk brought me over to his computer where he showed me a nutrition program that helps you track your caloric and fat gram intake in order to lose/maintain/or gain weight, depending on your needs. This online program came courtesy of Fitzie (thanks, girl), and munk showed me that given my height and weight, my body mass index is barely in the "overweight" category; however, the system does not take into account pregnancy, so of course I'm going to be considered "overweight" (you're not supposed to use BMI as a factor during pregnancy; munk just wanted to show me what I'd be considered at this weight in general)
He assured me that we'll start eating better, go walking together, and once the baby is born, we'll lose weight together. He told me that I'm doing just fine, that retaining those last 10lbs is bullsh*t, and I look beautiful. Everyone needs a munk in their lives....
But I still kinda want some cake...

6:14 AM - 6 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

molding the minds of our youth
Current mood: curious

Normally my Mondays are incredibly busy with patient after patient, and little breathing room in between. This morning, however, I've had an oddly significant, yet welcome, amount of down-time (so far). I've taken advantage of this down-time to check out my step-son's class web page, and, more specifically, his teacher's page.
I had avoided the teacher page since the beginning of the year since it hadn't been updated to the current curriculum or class (this teacher had taught fourth grade last year, and the page was still geared to the previous year, not third grade), and there were numerous misspellings. When I questioned the teacher about the page, i was given an excuse about computer problems and that the page would be updated soon. Months went by and I didn't check it; I mean, what was the point? I was wasting my time, trying to take an active role in school and homework, yet finding nothing to help me actually be active. I want to know what's going on, and to be honest, if you ask any third grader what they're doing in school, you get a bare-bones answer which is to be expected. So I looked to the school, the teacher, for that information.
This morning, I decided to check the site once more. What I found was astounding. The page looked like it was created by a third grader not a teacher with a master's degree! Huge fonts, poor spelling, etc. While some if it had been fixed to represent third grade, other areas still talked about fourth grade.
This guy is responsible for teaching eight-year-old kids, and he misspelled web page as "wed page" and third as "thrid." While I can understand typos when trying to move quickly, there are also things called "spell check" and "taking pride in your work." This page represents him and his classroom, and quite frankly I think it's doing a poor job.
I suppose I shouldn't worry too much, or complain, given that my step-son is doing very well (some of the work, such as his spelling words, are much too easy for him -- he had more difficult words in second grade). Maybe I just have a higher standard, maybe I just take professional conduct more seriously, maybe I simply hold teachers to a higher standard because of what they're responsible for. Or maybe I was spoiled because his second grade teacher went above and beyond the call of duty.
I know of another teacher with poor spelling and grammar and I wonder how some (certainly not all!) manage to obtain a degree and help mold the minds of our youth.

7:06 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

half-way point

Munk and I had our monthly doctor appointment for the baby today. He said everything is measuring as it should be and that now I've hit the easy part -- I just have to grow. Yeah, like I have a problem doing that at this point. Thank God he didn't tell me I was gaining too much weight too soon. I was absolutely dreading stepping on the scale today, and maybe I'm overly sensitive about the subject, but I thought I saw the nurse wince when I read the ugly red numbers staring back at me. I wanted to shave a few numbers off, but I'm just too honest.
We also got our results back on the possible congenital and genetic anomalies -- Down Syndrome, Trisomy 18, and neurologic disorders like spina bifida. I'm low-risk for all of them as far as my bloodwork goes, the scary part is how your risk can shoot up just because of age. While still considered low-risk for Down's, my risk literally doubled due to the fact that I'm 31. Lovely. But it's a low-risk, nonetheless.
We do need to go back for a second ultrasound in a few weeks considering the baby was too stubborn the first time to turn and give us a good profile shot. Another chance to see our little one's chubby cheeks? Twist my arm.
And tonight was the first night munk was able to feel the baby move! It was so cool! I've been feeling the flutters of movement more and more (especially after the rare cup of coffee), but munk hadn't been able to feel it. Tonight as we were on the couch, I felt some movement, so munk placed his hand on my belly and we waited patiently. All of a sudden, we felt the flutters and a little "pop." The look on his face was absolutely priceless. I cannot wait for May to come!!

Currently reading : Merle’s Door: Lessons from a Freethinking Dog By Ted Kerasote Release date: 02 July, 2007

7:16 PM - 4 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

New year, new baby, new house?
Current mood: bouncy

Our current lease is up in May. Coincidentally, our little peanut is due in May.
We could easily renew and stay where we are, but we're smart enough to realize our space will be severely limited very soon. We don't have room for a crib, and the rest of the stuff that goes with a baby; while Trey's bedroom is big enough to share, we don't think that's fair for him.
So, we've started yet another home search. This will be are third move in three years, but hopefully, HOPEFULLY, if we find a home, it will be our last. We're seeing two homes tomorrow, and I'm excited for them. The homes are quite different, and each has it's pros and cons:
Home A is about 3 years old, on a large lot. It has central a/c, fireplace, gleaming hardwood floors, a "cook's kitchen," and a master suite. From the pics, it looks bright and sunny. The con is the price. Obviously, no buyer offers the asking price, especially in this market, but who knows how low they'll go? And the taxes are higher.
Home B isn't far from home A. It's 90 years old, but completely renovated inside with a brand new kitchen, shiny hardwood floors. Same number of bedrooms as A. The asking price is significantly less than house A and it's situated across the street from our friends' house. The cons? The lot is smaller, no CAC, and no master suite.
We'll see what happens, but I truly hope we're not on the home search for too long...

9:06 PM - 3 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment