La La La..... Not listening.

Today nobody sleeps. I relish in naptime. Whether it's working out, reading or vegging it's about the only "me" time I get all day. So when my boys boycott we all suffer, because as we all know if mommy is not happy, NOBODY is happy.
Aside from my frustrations at this moment, I am very happy in my life. We have more than we need to get by, I enjoy my children (at some point) every day, we are in a place to help Shelle and Aaron out while he's away training (it also gives me a chance to get close to my favorite redhead), Jer and I seem more in touch with each other than ever, baby Miriam is growing like a wee little weed, and summer in AZ is coming to a close. Yes life is pretty good. Oh wait, then there's "the girls". No not Emily and Miriam, but the dynamic duo in the backyard. Lady and Urbn are little by little eating my backyard up. Yesterday Urbn literally ate a piece off the playset. Boredom I assume. And yes, just as the rest of the homes inhabitants' mental health seems to fall on mommy, as does the well being of our four legged fury friends. So she and I will embark on a walk at least once, maybe twice a day. Perhaps as the weather permits we can engage in even more activity that will persuade her to NOT dine on my plants. They can't taste very good so I am left to assume it is a personal attack on me.
So lets tally...... my job duties to date are:
Maid, Chef, Nanny, Teacher, Tailor, Chauffeur, Gardener, Handy Man, Nurse, Personal Assistant (to the hubby), Art director, Mistress (again for the hubby), Plumber, Recreation lead, Psycologist, Dairy cow, and now Dog Trainer. Man am I due for a raise!

The birth of a Miracle!

Miriam Shiloh Elsesser arrived on March 20, 2007. She weighed in a tiny 5 pounds 11 ounces and 18 inches long. She is my little peanut. At just over 37 weeks she's considered a preemie. Her birth was nothing near normal though. I had my regular doctor check-up that morning, Zander woke up ill and I was in a hurry to have my quickie visit/routine checks and be on my way. I never expected my day would turn out as it did. Everything seemed to be fine as the nurse tracked the heartbeat on the doppler and did my weight. I commented to Dr.Villa about less movement, assuming it had to do with the late stage in pregnancy and baby running out of room quickly. He suggested an NST just to check in on things, both of us sure it would just be "routine". I was told it may be a few hours before I could get in for the NST as there were others waiting. I knew that was not an option since I had promised Zander I would be back soon to care for him. I made a quick call to Jer to update him that all was well, they were just being overly cautious. I had this with both of the boys and it turned out both times as normal and I went a few more weeks pregnant with both of them. I even said that I was temped to skip it, and Jer insisted I take the test just to be safe. Fortunately they got me in within 20 minutes.
It all seemed normal as they hooked me up, until the nurse was struggling to get baby's heartbeat. I KNOW what an NST is, I KNOW baby's heartbeat should be loud and proud on this high tech machine. I KNOW this is no doppler, I KNOW what my heartbeat compared to baby's sounds like and I KNOW I am only hearing mine. I KNOW something is not right. I start to feel dizzy as the nurse excuses herself, stating something is wrong with the machine. (I am now trying to remember if I ate this morning. No, pretty sure I skipped it thinking my dr visit would be quick and I could grab something while I was out.) I'm feeling nauseous as the head nurse comes in. She runs the wand over my belly a few times, I hear a racing heartbeat, then it's gone. (Oh good it's there, stupid machine must be screwing up.) She excuses herself after I tell her I'm feeling dizzy and she confirms I look very pale and clammy. She returns with some juice to get my blood sugar up, and Dr.Moratz enters just as I finish chugging it. He runs the wand back and forth and I can't hear anything over the bells ringing in my ears. He pokes his head out the door shouting something, my vision is barely clearing of black spots when he's now in front of me putting my shoes on and getting me to my feet. "We need to see baby on an ultrasound so I'm taking you to Labor and Delivery. We need to go now." I'm too focused on not passing out to ask questions like why are we running out the back door of the office and in through the back door of L&D or why can't we use the ultrasound machine in the office. Nurses are already waiting with the machine in a labor room for us and I'm being moved around so fast I may just pass out now. Someone takes my purse, my shoes are off and I'm on the bed. A nurse is pulling my shirt over my head when I hear the dr saying "I got nothing, tell them we're coming for an emergency c-section now!" Their pulling off my shorts and I'm being checked as a fully suited up surgical team enters and I'm being wheeled down the hall with Dr.Moratz on the bed and my water breaks, I feel the warm gush. He tells me I'm having an emergency c-section, he can't get a heartbeat on the baby, my eyes well up and the lump in my throat is so huge I have to force myself to speak. "Can someone please call my husband?" The lights over my head are blinding. A nurse removes my final piece of clothing, my bra, as they move me to the surgical table and drape me. People are telling me it will be okay, I'm doing a great job (at what? not losing all composure? I don't even really know what's going on!) and to just breath, but I'm pretty sure I'm hyperventilating. A small man, I thing he's an anaesthesiologist, asks me my weight pre-pregnancy as he's strapping down my arms and inserting an IV. I dictate Jer's cell to Dr.Moratz who is calling from the operating room wall, a cold feeling is rushing into my arm and I hear "Hello is this Carrie Elsesser's husband?" as the blackness takes over. No not yet, I want to feel the baby just one more time. I'm not done being pregnant yet!

"Carrie. You're okay, you can wake up now." The unfamiliar voice is so far away. I have to fight to pull my eyes open just a little. I see two masked faces over me. The lights are moving overhead which means I must be moving. "Carrie you're out of surgery and the baby is..." "No, you're not supposed to say anything yet." Okay the haze is pretty thick, but I'm pretty sure this is not a dream and they aren't telling me something about my baby. Oh no, the baby was in distress! What aren't they telling me?!
I can't really assess where I am now, small room with curtains. I have heavy blankets on me, yet I am cold. Nurses are checking IVs and I hear "She's awake, but still groggy. You can see her now." A familiar face pokes around the curtain, it's Jer and although he looks more stressed than I have ever seen him, he smiles. He takes my hand, IV still in. I have to fight to open my eyes and look at him, I fight harder to talk. "How's the baby?" Still not even sure I want the answer. "She's doing fine. We have a girl. " I start to weep uncontrollably and Jer squeezes my hand. The nurse tells him it's normal after surgery to be emotional. Normal? I just had my child ripped from my womb, the last thing I knew was there was no heartbeat, there was nobody there with me going in, I could only hope that they reached Jer otherwise nobody knew what was going on, then a nurse won't tell me about my baby. What about this is "normal"?
While the clouds are clearing for me Jer leaves to get HER. We have a HER, and she has no name. We thought we still had time, guess all those dreams are coming true. A nurse filling in my charts tells me how they had no heartbeat on her going in. Her cord wasn't wrapped, everything looked normal. She was unresponsive at first but after cutting her cord and a bit of oxygen she perked right up. Better out than in I guess. I get her weight and length. Tiny, but healthy. Mom comes in looking, well mom-ish. She's smiling and stroking my shoulder as I tell her all I know about the situation. I must have taken a few years off her life today, I know a few have been taken from mine.
Jer returns with the littlest sweet angel I've ever seen. She has some short, fuzzy brown hair and is sleeping. I want to nurse her, I want to bond. My body hurts so bad, but just holding her, smelling her head makes me forget.
The next few days are a haze. I slept little do to the only real pain I remember, the air trapped in my shoulder joints. I am in awe of my peanut daughter. Nurses repeatedly tell me what a miracle I have. No known reason for her distress, simply luck that her decelerated heartbeat was caught on a NST. A phone call from Dr.Moratz after I returned home, just to tell me what a miracle we have. He admits that he thought it was too late and that he expected her not to make it when we were going in to surgery. It's not known for how long she was in distress, we do know she was breech; turned from the previous dr's appointment.
I have a 4 inch scar above my hairline to forever remind me of that day. It was 18 minutes from me walking through the back door of Labor and Delivery til her birth. I never take for granted the little things. I knew my connection to a daughter would be different, but she is also our miracle. She is known as the miracle baby at my OBGYN. I can hardly bear to leave her, since I came so close to not having her at all. She is loved dearly and I'm sure will be spoiled to the Nth degree. I will never be ashamed or bitter about my scar. It humbles me each time I look at it or run my fingers across it's smooth pink surface. It is a reminder of what I almost lost. It also reminds me why our family is complete with Miriam, I just could not bear 9 months stressing over what "might" or "might not" happen.

What's in a name?

We have gone round and round about names for this baby. Even though we do not yet know the sex, we still feel we should be prepared with names come birthday. We have many option for boys that we like. Little does Jer know that if we have a 3rd boy, I will finally have my Micah. Micah what? Really doesn't matter, Jer pick the middle name, but Micah he shall be. Other names we have tossed about are Mason, O'ren, Eleanor, Shiloh, Gillian, Kia but it's hard not knowing. We try to attach ourselves, but what if we come up with the perfect name and get the opposite sex? With just over a month to go and a new house and puppy the clocks a tickkin'.
I keep having the same dream over and over: The baby has arrived. I pass her off and keep telling each visitor that "It's a girl, but she has no name." I get more and more frustrated each time I have to say it. Do I really KNOW it's a girl. Is that what my body is telling me? Or am I just stressed over not having a name we are totally in love with yet. Both of the boys were named by 6months, yet here I sit on the verge of my 9th month with little more than ideas. A huge part of me is hoping for and would be relieved by another boy; even though the rest of the world seems to think we were "trying" for a girl. I am over prepared for a boy, including the name....Micah. Someone said to name a girl Micah, but I always pictured a little blond-haired boy with big blue eyes named Micah. NOT A GIRL. Perhaps that's why the baby in the dream is female, because I've named a boy. Having a girl would mean all new baby supplies and the dreaded naming conundrum.
let's just hope the sight of her inspires something. Perhaps she will just look like a ...... well it will come to me. Jer named Urbn before we ever got her home. Maybe there will be a nurse with a special name or maybe April, since she will most likely come in April. Or a movie with an outlandish character we just love, gods hopefully something. Then again, perhaps it will come to me in a dream.

ALOT of New.

We move into our new home March 1st. Ours. Not rented, ours. Our new puppy should be coming home about the same time. With all this going on I am happy to go over my due date with this baby. I feel fantastic, best pregnancy ever. I've only gained 14lbs so far and I eat pretty much what I want, including indulging my strongest craving once or twice a week; McDonald's chocolate shake and large fries. Must be all that yummy saturated fat. Aside from wishing I could be more interactive with my boys, my big ol' belly gets in the way of floor play and picking them up is a no-no, I wish this last pregnancy could stretch a little longer. All the house stuff has taken away from the time I would like to be spending basking in my pregnancy glow. With house shopping, paperwork, packing, cleaning, signing, meeting up AND normal day to day I just don't seem to have the time to sit back and reflect. It saddens me that this is my last. The last time for a tiny life to grow in my womb. The last time I feel a tiny kick in the ribs, roll over the bladder, or bump in the night. I have my memories of my childbearing time, but we all know memories are so fleeting. If money and time weren't an issue I'd be happy to have a 4th. I love Jer and I as parents, but we are stretched thin already. A small part of me thinks maybe down the road we could have just one more and is hesitant to make anything final. But I also know that I want to go back to school and invest a little time in me. For me and for my family. I have two, almost 3, children who depend on me. That's plenty. I want to give them things we didn't have, I want to show them so much and they cost plenty. So we will forever be in love and satisfied with the 3 we have in our lives and never wonder about any we didn't decide to have in the future. There is enough new going on right at this moment, let's hope or next new shows up a little late.