Part 1 of the Jedi Series~ The Beginning of Maybe

This is a story of a journey, it is not intended to scare or shock. The language used is carefully selected and may be offensive, I make no apologies for it.
I welcome you to share it.This is dedicated to the one I love.

I never really "found out" I was pregnant, in early 2011. It seemed as though I just knew. I could tell you the exact moment I knew was, when I was in my room picking up something off the floor, and I felt a little twinge. It felt it low in my abdomen, but the twinge wasn't what startled me upright, it was the sudden lightness I felt, almost like a ripple growing from the center of a lake and tracing the shore.

 After we had evidence that I was pregnant, I went to a Dr., and although I didn't like him much, he seemed nice enough and from previous experience I knew I could change practitioners at any time, but in the mean time, he was good enough. There was worry from previous blood testing done in a hospitals emergency room (I had been admitted prior to knowing for a fact that I was pregnant, when I had suffered from excruciating cramps and though I might have an infection of sorts) that I had tested positive for something that could harm the pregnancy and cause it to be ectopic. Thankfully, I had tested false positive and after a few blood tests, and an ultra sound we learned the embryo was indeed where it should be, and growing strong.

Early pregnancy symptoms hit me hard. The room was constantly spinning, I threw up countless times, I was exhausted, and it lasted all of 2 weeks. In my previous pregnancies I had been told the stronger your symptoms were, the more likely your baby had strong staying powers and so I may have said a time or two "alright little shrimp thing, you're here, I fucking get it, now ease up a little" and just like that it eased up.

As I approached the second trimester, things were going great. The kids were excited about having a new baby in the house, we were starting to go about our daily lives without the "oh my god we are HAVING A BABY CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!?" shock and my tummy was proof that things seemed to be going swimmingly. A little fuller, but not so big that I couldn't button my pants.
And then everything changed.
I stood outside getting a good dose of oxygen after dying my hair in the bathroom. I remember thinking how surprised my boyfriend was going to be when he saw how dark it was. And then I felt it. I thought at first I must be imagining things, surely I can't be peeing on myself? But something was down there, and I immediately checked, right where I was, standing in my yard. I pulled my hand out of my panties and saw a nightmare. Blood. Completely covering my hand. In shock I looked at my legs, I could see the blood collecting at the crotch of my jeans, and growing towards my thighs.

Everything that followed was a mechanical reaction.
Call mom.
Call boyfriend.
Call boyfriends mom because hes not answering and I'm not fucking leaving a voice message. The worst news ever, on a voicemail? He would die.
Go in shower. Do not take off clothes. There may be a fetus in your panties and I'm not fucking looking. Rinse hair. Decide to take off clothes because now you just look stupid. Close your motherfucking eyes while you do so.
Sit on couch.
Cry.

Actually, I couldn't cry. Not with very much tears anyways. I practically dry heaved my way into my mothers arms when she arrived at my house ready to take me to my doctor's office.
As I held her tight and sobbed without tears, I felt the blood just pouring out of me.I just wanted to be absorbed into her body and disappear.

I wanted her to so badly take it away, make it stop. Like all the times when I was small and scared or hurt, she would tell me something happy to think of, or she would bandage my knees, give each one a kiss and I would carry on with my day. 
She brought me to her car and got my then 3 year old daughter and put her in the car seat.
She took me to the entrance of the building to the doctor's office and left to park the car.  I walked into the building with a towel between my legs. Going up the elevator, trying not to cry and freak out anyone who might be pregnant just leaving or going to an appointment. But also shuddering and gasping as I felt the towel growing warmer between my thighs.

As I lay on the exam bed, and the Dr. turned off the lights to give me an ultrasound, I prepared myself for the absolute worst. That there would be nothing left.

I blinked maybe 50 times as I saw what was displayed on the screen.
A tiny baby, perfectly formed, with long arms and legs, that were kicking and waving as if to say "I'm here! Mama I am here!" my relief was immediately replaced by confusion. I was still bleeding, and there was just no way this baby wasn't in jeopardy. Despite the baby looking okay, this could just be the beginning of the end. I sat up straight at he turned the machine off.
"Give me the facts. How is it that there is still a baby in there, yet I am 2 seconds away from needing a blood transfusion, I don't want hope, I want facts, tell me can this get better?"

He said he has seen this before, it could stop and the pregnancy could be fine. Or it could continue and result in a miscarriage. Either way, I needed to go to the hospital for further testing and to evaluate how much blood I had lost.

The ride to the hospital I hardly remember, but getting out of the car and walking to the E.R. entrance  is something I will never forget. It was emotionally painful. Blood continued to pour with every step and I started to imagine the baby inside of me possibly starting to die.
If someone had told me to stay positive, even I, the most optimistic person I know, whould have punched them square in the face.

They quickly rushed me to a bed in a wheelchair, left me alone to change, and I asked if I could keep my pants on to keep from bleeding everywhere. They placed a pad on my bed and said the blood would be collected there. "Awesome", I thought sarcastically.
After a nurse took my vitals, I was left alone waiting for the doctor.
Every movement caused a small gush of blood to come out. And without my pants on to soak some of it up, I felt every drop. My ass grew numb from trying to hold absolutely still, but when it began to be painful and the skin became completely numb, I would have to turn and switch positions. My body shook in a silent sob as I felt the blood spilling over my thighs.

My mom came and stayed with me after taking my daughter to her house, and when my boyfriend arrived she left to pick my other 3 kids up from school.

The first thing he did was stroke my hair and kiss my forehead. He asked if I was alright.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
I had been worrying the whole time the possibility of my baby being gone, and going through the real terrifying experience of miscarrying it after seeing arms, legs, a heart even.
I had forgotten that I was not alone and when he sat down calmly in the chair next to me, I knew no matter what happened, that it would be okay. Our grief would be shared. We would be going through whatever the hell this was, together.

The Dr had ordered an ultrasound and when she left the room and we waited, I told my boyfriend to be prepared. That there might not be an alive baby any more. He understood, and he held my hand on the way to the X Ray department of the hospital.
I closed my eyes as the u/s technician pressed into my abdomen and turned her head toward the screen.

I have had lots of ultrasounds from my previous pregnancies and was always eager to see what was on the screen. To see a little peek of the face I would soon meet. Marvel at a transparent chest that held a beautifully beating heart. I looked forward to ultrasound appointments and treasured every single one of them. But never had any of them made me cringe. To not want to know what would be shown. And with my eyes closed I just wanted it all to go away. For this moment in time not be happening at all.

"Well... the baby looks okay"
I turned towards the screen with eyes wide open and searched the screen. It was there. Our baby was definitely there, because it was definitely flailing around performing some sort of Cirque de Soliel move, and there was a little flicker of a heart even. 
The ultrasound was over quickly, although the tech was sweet enough to let us watch the baby perform some more fist pumping before printing out some pictures, one for us, and many more for the doctor to look over.

The doctor explained that since the bleeding seemed to be improving, there was really nothing that they could do to stop a threatened miscarriage. There was a small bruise on my placenta, it had also lifted a bit. There was really no known reason or cause, and it could get better. But there was no way to know.
Before I left, a nurse gave me her extra pair of pants she had in her locker.  I had soaked through mine and she gave me a hug and told me I deserved more than a paper gown to wear. I signed a few forms and on my way out they gave me a packet of information on threatened miscarriages, and warning signs. And my ultrasound photo.

When I got home I threw the bag carrying the folder of information, my blood soaked pants and towel, in the back of the closet.

I put my ultrasound photo up on the fridge.

Over a year later, it's still on my fridgeNext post-June 1st

My Baby the Cry Baby

Last night was a rough night. Jedi (as he is affectionately known as on dee internets) has found his voice. As amazingly cute as this is, what with all the babbles and coo's and aiyuuuugeeee's, he cant shut up when its time for sleep. For those without fruit of loins, lemme splain something babies like to do. When they reach a new milestone like sitting up, being able to pull up, being able to dance, they wont stop doing it. At all. Even when the room is dark and everything is quiet, they are fed, dry and happy, they will perform whatever new trick they have acquired over and over and over, even if they are totally tired and making themselves miserable. I compare this to drunk people who have learned a new line dance. They will dance that dance wherever the fuck they are, talking to friends, at a gas station, they will even get out of the car at a drive thru del taco at 3 a.m. to perform this new found trick even if they are not very good at it, until someone drops them off at their house. Even then, they will be doing the 10 step right up until they reach their bed, thinking "I am so fucking cool I should be an instructor on this shit"(true story, don't ask how I know this) So Jedi's new trick is his voice. And he cant shut up about it. This is how last night went:

         Put baby in bed despite fact that he is babbling away, hoping he will get the hint that the room is dark and no one is talking to him. Jedi squawks his aiiyeegoooooo aiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIIIIIyy ooooooohhhh skills times 10. Ok this isn't working he is not even calm. I put him in bed with me. Stupid idea, now he thinks its time to play. After he kicks my crotch 5 times and drools all over my neck, attempts to "motor boat" my chest, and squeals like a piggie, I lay him to my side. Let the back pats begin. Pat. Pat. Pat. He soon realizes his voice makes a different sound when I'm patting him. Now he really wont shut up. I sit up and rock him until I feel sea sick. Pat. Pat. Pat. He stands on my legs. "AAAAIIIIOOOO" fuck. Ok back in the bed, I'm tired, he is too crazy for my life. I lay him down and he Aaaaaeeeegggggs until he cries. I pick him back up. Repeat chorus 4 times.

By the end of it, I am exhausted, he's crying and I'm crying. What is wrong with me and why is this kid pissing me off? I'm 27 so I should have a shit ton of energy still, Ive done this 4 times before, Ive been through alot of shitty things, Ive seen alot of shitty things, and this isn't something I ever thought I would cry over. A baby that's half crying half talking? Mostly making some cute ass baby sounds? Why is this reducing me to tears!?

  And that's when I realized why. Because right then, at that moment, I was being ungrateful. Let me splain. When I was pregnant with my Eldest, I went to a teen lamaze class. One of the exercises we did was to choose from a list all the things we wanted to happen on our babies birthday. As the exercise went we eventually had to narrow down the #1 goal. At the end all that was left was "Have a healthy baby" It was intended to put our precarious desires to the side and make us realize what was really important. Since I was having a fairly easy pregnancy and didn't even know anyone who didn't, or had a child that had problems from the get go, I thought it was a wee bit silly. I mean, why wouldn't my baby be healthy? Shes fine now, she will be fine then. Thankfully my naive ass wasn't trumped on the day of Eldest's birth, because she came out a healthy 9 lbs of thunder and to this day is very healthy.

      That's pretty much how every pregnancy was in fact. Zero problems, no hints that the baby was going to be wall eyed or derelict. I was fully confident that this whole having a baby thing just came easy to me, of course I learned along the way that it was not like this for most people, but it was like other people were just talking about a country they visited that I had never even heard of. It was just a story, that I couldn't imagine in my mind, because I had never even seen a brochure. It was just something that had never happened to me (having a not healthy baby or a trouble some pregnancy) and something I could never imagine happening to me.

     And then I got pregnant with Jedi. From the get go my imaginary list of outcomes I wanted from my pregnancy went like this:

• I want a boy. I already have 3 girls and 1 boy. I would like another boy because it would suck for my only son to have another sister, plus I'm sick of princess shit
• I want this baby to be really cute. To match his/her siblings. And with a good name that I haven't heard a thousand times.
• I want this baby to be smart. Because I am not so good at puzzles and math homework.
• I want this baby to love music as much as me and his/her dad. And possibly play 3 different instruments for our entertainment.
• I really hope I can find a cheap dresser to store all these awesome clothes. No baby of mine is going to look stupidly dressed.
• I hope I don't get really really fat.
• I hope he/she isn't a cry baby

And that was that. I didn't think my imaginary list would change whatsoever. Until I was 11 weeks pregnant. I started hemorrhaging for no apparent reason and I replaced one thing on my list.

• I hope I don't get really really fat. I hope I don't miscarry.

When I was 15 weeks I learned that I was having a boy. Although this was very exciting, I really didn't care any more. I wasn't even sure if I was going to be able to see this boy. Ever. I prayed to the cosmic juju Oprah preaches about that my wish wasn't granted in replacement of my "I hope I don't miscarry" wish.

By the time I was 21 weeks, things didn't look any better. And the list had changed some.

• 
  

  I want this baby to be really cute. To match his/her siblings. And with a good name that I haven't heard a thousand times. He can be ugly. As long as I get to see him.
• 
  

  I want this baby to be smart. Because I am not so good at puzzles and math homework. He can be special needs for all I care. I will take him to the special bus by the hand and tell him he is the most wonderful boy in the fucking world and love the shit out of him every single day of his life. If it means I get to know him.

By 24 weeks, I was told I was staying in the hospital until my baby came out. My due date was months away. Fancy doctors that have spent half their lives in doctor school came and told me all the things that could happen and measures that would be taken to save my sons life. They told me the real risks, shooted me some statistics and basically scared the shit and piss out of me. My list changed dramatically.

•  I want this baby to love music as much as me and his/her dad. And possibley play 3 different instruments for our entertainment. I really hope he is not deaf. But if he is so be it. I will be sign languaging like a mother fucker and so will everyone who enters my house. And I will sell a kidney to make sure he gets the best hearing aids known to man. I will picket Bill Gates house if I have to.
• I really hope I can find a cheap dresser to store all these awesome clothes. No baby of mine is going to look stupidly dressed I really hope I have use for a new dresser.
• I really hope he is not a cry baby I hope when he comes out, he is crying. Because that means he can breathe.

I had Jedi just a few days after I changed my list. Every single day, I wake up, and I marvel that he is even here. I mean, he has only been around for 6 months, and he has only been home for 3 of those months, so this is all very surreal remembering him on a tiny bed weighing no more than a baby kitty just a few months ago. And now seeing him develop rolls upon his rolls like a sherpa puppy is like whiplash really. And sometimes I get overly emotional about it, in fact I have sworn off any sappy movies in the past few months because I feel like my daily life is akin to a Hallmark commercial and any more sappyness would make me turn into a brunette Tammy Faye Bakker sobbing through a tune of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" with snot running down my boobs.

So last night was fucking rough. I over analyzed (true to my female nature) how on Earth this beautiful, miraculous, gift from the cosmos could possibely be making me a little fucking unhappy. After replaying my whole pregnancy and his triumphant and successful attempt at life, I came to the realization that regardless of how awesomely grateful I am that he is here. He is still a baby. Babies suck sometimes. Lack of sleep sucks more than babies do and that can bring anyone down to a delirious sob episode.


What finally got him to sleep was my soft sob, and of course the death grip placed on his legs to keep him from kicking me in the crotch. All in all, it was a shit night for me. Except for the part where I got to hold my baby and thank him from the bottom of my heart, that he was here, even if he is a big fat cry baby. He is my cry baby. He can breathe. He hears me. He is alive. The list of awesome shit this kid can do goes on and on. But I have a theory my no cry baby wish got replaced with something else....





Enough cute to make your fillings tingle.

My best friend is a 6th grader

I had a somewhat run of the mill conversation with Eldest Child this morning while taking her to school. Her school is literally around the corner so it was a quick exchange of words before she was out the door walking to her first class. It went something like this~

Eldest Child ~I have some bad news. Jake Gyllenhal turned 31 today

Me~ I'm sorry baby. Justin Beiber will still be youngish when you turn 18...

Hes skinny mom. He wouldn't be able to protect me, like in a fight.

Damn your right, no one beats Prince of Persia.

Ugh, this really sucks. Ive loved him since I was like, 7, and all for nothing. He was already too old.

Yeah, well I was in love with Johnny Depp and hes still with that french girl. And Mel Gibson went crazy and beat his wife. I loved him too.

Ugh, dudes suck. They all get old or crazy. Hey what book should I read? I left mine at dads...

Whatever book your farther along in..

I haven't read any of these...man..I need to get my life together!

Me too I cant find shit around the house.

OH SNAP! New years resolution! Get our crap together!

Aye aye Captain!

Ahoy der matey! Shiver me life together! hahaha Bye mom love you!


     So this is what a conversation with my best friend is like. My best friend also happens to be my child. When I had her, I had no clue it would be like this. No idea there would be a weekly dance off between us, that she would help me like only your best gf could "Did I fuck up my eye liner? I really feel like I did.." Ohhh lemme check...mm..yep one eye isn't as cat like as the other...oh and your mascara stuff if in your bangs. And I certainly never thought I would be telling her things that are confidentially between friends. No No, I don't tell her weird shit like things that happen behind closed doors, or like want to party with her when she turns 18. I mean maybe a glass of wine or two watching Twilight after she turns 21 but nothing with disco lights.
      I once watched this show, it was  True Life~ my mom parties hard, and well, it was horrifying. Daughters should not be getting held by their moms doing a keg stand. Moms should not be dishing out their sex life or asking for relationship advice. Because thats what friends their own age are for, you know? I didnt have a daughter with intentions of turning her into my life coach.
      I also watched this episode of Tyra Banks (don't judge me...okay judge me) of the same topic. Moms that treat their daughters like best friends, you know, shopping, hanging out with friends, clubbing, bar hoppin it to find dudes to grind against their butts on a dance floor. The first few things are normal but the clubbing and bar hopping thing just weirds me out. (Side note...why is it if a mom is with her daughter around at a bar scamming on dudes its just mildly weird, but if a dad does it with his son I instantly think they are in the business of zip ties and chloroform? But I also think this when guys travel in packs with not a chick in sight...but that's better saved for another post) I would also like to point out that I think having fun times with your adult children is totally ok, but theres a line. Its a gray line, and Im sure if you dont know where it is you probably shouldnt even go there. Im guessing the line is somewhere near the people rallying volunteers to do keg stands.
     So with the education I learned from TV shows and MORALS, I have already decided long ago, that my daughters would never be my best friends. I mean, friends is fine. But not the condom box sharing kind. (gross) So now that Ive clarified what I mean by saying my Eldest is my best friend, you know what Im throwing down and are no longer worried for her future. Well at least not worry so much to put us on Tyra. 
    

    It wasn't always like this, like I mentioned before, she was my baby first. Still is my baby actually. But when she was a little chubby baby I only had a hint that we were destined for soul sisterhood. For one thing, she looked similar to me. And if you take a group of besties you will most certainly find that there are similar physical attributes that they have. Maybe they all look tired and have spit up on them. Or they're all hot with long legs. Maybe they all have a stupid fucking feather in their hair. Whatever. Our likeness is mainly our sense of humor, our undeniabley cute noses, and our awesome dance moves. When she first rolled her eyes at me at the age of 3, I thought, this child is so mine, and not only that but I found the other fish in my school of 1.  And the best part was she thought I was hilarious. HILARIOUS. I could do anything and she would bust up in laughter. I would moon walk around the room, HILARIOUS. Jump up and down, HILARIOUS. I learned the theme songs to all her favorite shows (Maggie and the Ferocious Beast anyone?) and all the dance moves to The Wiggles. She was uber impressed and had such fun with me. Until she turned 5. Things got real when she turned 5. She started kindergarten and had a friend named Sam. She asked me if I could ask Sam's grandma if they could have a play date. I said sure and the next day at drop off I saw Sam walking hand in hand with a woman. Eldest child loudly said "There she is mom, theres her grandma!" Umm. This lady was not Sam's grandma. In fact, she didn't even look past 32. "Sam's grandma! Sam's grandma! Can me and Sam have a play date?" The woman turned around surprised, and said she was Sam's mom. Eldest child was stunned. And her face turned red. I turned red as well. Later Eldest asked me how come I don't look like the other moms? To which I didn't have an answer to. Weeks later she asked how old I was when I had her. Of course I told her. She didn't know what to make of it and that was that. She kept one eye on me for years. She was verrry skeptical and it took me a long time to figure out why. When I figured it was because she was learning and seeing that not only was I not a normal mom age, I also was not a normal mom. This caused many an outburst of embarrassment if I said the wrong thing like saying yes, if her friend asked if I was her mom, and also her directing me to the bread aisle if she saw a friend in the juice aisle. She got over it by the time she was in 5th grade. By then, she had told enough people to shut their face when they said I didn't look old enough to be her mom, and she had also taken quite a liking to my clothes and shoes.

 I didn't realize how tight, yes I said tight, me and Eldest were until a few months ago when everyone got struck with the stomach flu. It already passed her, I was determined not to get it and was probably overdosing on Lysol, purell and vitamin C. But everyone else was taking turns puking about every 10 min, so we all camped out in the living room. Co Captain took up one side of the couch, 2nd daughter took up the other, and Eldest and I took up the floor. (the boy and the 3rd daughter went to their dads since we can not have more barfing people than toilets) Me and Eldest were trying to sleep, really we were, but I was so freaked out thinking I might suddenly get the throwing up disease that I was talking nervously. Eldest of course enjoyed this, and was telling me all about a boy she liked in school, a girl she didn't, and such. I told her in a sarcastic way that I kinda wished I would throw up because I put on like 20 lbs from having the baby. I realized quickly this is not something you say to an impressionable child, what with all the news on 8 year olds with eating disorders and the studies saying if your daughter gets one you and your magazine covers you brought home are to blame.  So I quickly followed with, "Not that its like a good idea to puke to lose weight...rots your teeth and stuff...plus food is good, helps you grow big and strong...have energy.." She cut me off and said "I know mom, its alright...you probably just want to fit in your pants again. You don't have to turn it into a talk about eating disorders...I like my food in my stomach...trust me"  
    And that's when I realized shes alright. I'm alright. I can say things without giving her the van down by the river speech every time I say something I probably shouldnt have. She made me realize I can be her mom and be myself. I say stupid things, and she knows that. It doesnt make me a bad mom and it doesnt doom her. Later, Co Captain complained that we were awfully loud the night before and it was hard for him to concentrate on puking between us saying annoying things like "OMG" and "I know right?!"  What can I say? We were both scared we were going to start barfing on everything and I was high on Lysol.

Its not easy raising your best friend. There is certain times I wish she would just listen because I'm her mom and I'm too lazy for explanations. Friends explain their feelings they don't just say...blah blah go to your room I don't want to hear it. They care, alot, about how the other person feels. Plus I'm grateful to have a right hand girl that knows exactly what I mean when I say "Wheres my black top with the thing on the side, the one with the stitch that goes weird on that one part?" Eldest child says I'm her best friend too even though I'm her mom. I mean, we both know the merits of Jake and his horseback riding skills he could have taught to her sister. And she curses the skinny french bitch who stole her could have been dad, who could have given us all geometry shaped hair cuts. And of course we both agree that "Mel Gibson be all kinda cray." So I'm going to savor this time with my bestie, in a few years I might not be so highly thought of, maybe she will go insane from teenager hormones eating her brain and soul, I mean that shit happened to me.. Until then, I'm practicing my robot. I have a dance off tomorrow to attend.