Pregnant Pause #4: Birthday

There’s one story that needs to be told before I completely forget all the details. The story of KC’s birth. It wasn’t particularly dramatic, or unusual, but it’s my story. Her story. It was one of the most amazing days of our life. Probably the most amazing day. Ted, I’m sure, would agree. It’s the day our family was born. It’s kind of long, so get comfortable…

My pregnancy was very easy. I felt great, had no problems, kept a reasonable weight the whole time…I was lucky. By the end, however, I was very ready for it to be over. Feeling like a beached whale everywhere you sit or lay down is not fun. Not fun at all. I had started to forget what it felt like to sleep on my stomach. It’s funny the things you take for granted when not pregnant.

Ted was also very ready for it to be done, however, for slightly different reasons than mine. He was nervous as hell about the birth itself. He worried constantly about what it would be like and whether he’d be able to deal with it. Would he be able to get us to the hospital ok? Could he stay by my side and not freak out? If I had allowed it, he would have parked himself in the waiting room like a dad from the fifities. He actually did bring cigars to pass out.

My final appointment with my OB-GYN was frustrating, but not unusual. I was very close to, then past, my due date. She told me I was a little bit dilated, but not much. Ted didn’t completely understand what that meant, but I did. I had read the entire “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” right on through the birth chapters. I knew what was coming. I like knowing. I am a reader and an information addict. I tried to explain to Ted that even though “technically” the process was beginning, I could still be walking around only slightly dilated for another week or so. We’d just have to wait. The waiting was slowly sucking his will to live.

I didn’t even go that far beyond my date. I was due on Sept. 11th, and we were to be induced on Sept. 17th if she didn’t come on her own. Some women go much longer. I think Ted would have gone insane. Luckily for us, she decided to make her debut on Friday, Sept. 14th. Knowing I was soon to be induced, I had begun my maternity leave that week. I was getting pretty uncomfortable anyway, so figured one week at home without baby wasn’t too bad. I had 8 weeks total, which sounded like enough time to spend with her, minus one week for myself. It sure didn’t seem long enough in the end, but I digress. Where was I?

Oh, right. Friday, Sept. 14th. That morning I noticed some…uh…shall we say…fluid leaking. I was certain it wasn’t any of the typical “female fluid” one sees during (and after…oh, Lord the after…) pregnancy. I knew it wasn’t pee either. I mentioned it to Ted, but assured him he could go off to work. I would call my doc. If she said it was a big deal, I’d call him to come home. They tell you not to rush to the hospital anyway, and I definitely was not having any contractions. Not that I knew of. Seemed like they would be fairly obvious if TV and movies are at all accurate. Turns out they are NOT all that accurate.

The doc was concerned that my fluid leak could be the water breaking. Apparently, the water doesn’t always break in a huge embarrassing gush. Sometimes it’s a slow leak. I described the color as not totally clear and that was a flag that I should come right to the hospital to be checked out. Turns out a baby can “poo” in the womb as they near the time for birth. If that stuff, called meconium by the pros, is in the amniotic fluid, it can be aspirated by baby when they take the first breath. Not good. Nothing to panic over, but definitely cause for a checkup.

My doc was doing rounds, or something at the hospital that day, so she encouraged me to get there before 10 am. I checked in, they put me in a gown, put a fetal heart monitor across my belly and, wouldn’t you know it, I was having contractions. What? For real? I joked with the nurses that if these were contractions, this birth thing would be a breeze! Hahahahaha! The doc came and they were able to confirm, that yes, it was amniotic fluid, the baby in fact did expel some meconium in there so we needed to induce my labor. We started making the phone calls. To put out the “alert” so to speak.

I want to stop the story and mention at this point that all was very calm and casual on the day of KC’s birth. My doc was awesome. She, Ted and I really hit it off. Ted came to a lot of the appointments with me and we were both very impressed with her straight forward and humorous nature. Ted and I are pretty laid back people. There were never any discussions of mid-wives, fancy birth centers or doulas, pre-scheduling C-sections, or inductions so the baby would be born on our schedule. Hell, not even a birth plan was put down on paper. I only told her I was very “open” to drugs if it seemed like a good idea in the moment. She loved us for this. We roll with the punches. Let the chips fall where they may, etc. We accepted from day one that pregnancy and birth are a process you cannot always control. She praised us and told us she felt that was part of why my pregnancy was so easy going. Eh…who knows. Maybe it did help. I think she had her fair share of “difficult” mothers-to-be and was just relieved to have a few patients who were laid back. According to her, in our area, there a lot of “high-strung” women. No! Really? Must be the traffic.

So, there we were. Me in my lovely gown. Alternating between walking around a bit, and laying in bed to be monitored for contractions/heart beat, etc. If I recall correctly, it was about 10 am when I technically started my labor. Easy as pie for a little while (remember how I joked about it? hee. hee. hee.), but those contractions did start to intensify. Hence the walking around. Apparently that’s supposed to help. I don’t know if it did. I do recall that when a contraction would come, I’d have to lean on something. Later, when they got worse, I made best friends with one of the chairs in the room and just sat there, very still, gripping the arms.

Ted’s family arrived pretty early on. They live in the area. As with most natural births, none of us really knew how long it would be so everyone figured why not be there just in case. My mom and dad had to drive 3 hours, so they jumped in the car as soon as we called that morning. They must have arrived by about 1:00 pm. At that point I was experiencing enough pain with contractions that I could only really talk to them in between. I was still dealing quite well though. I had heard, earlier in the morning, a woman screaming very loudly down the hall. I never made it to that level. Maybe she was going for a true natural birth. No drugs. God love her.

As part of the process, I was to be induced. At one point they gave me some pitocin in an IV drip to “get the party started”. Although I was steadily dilating, it was going a tad slow. I seem to recall my doc first trying some kind of gel on my cervix that was supposed to induce, or something. I guess that didn’t really do it, so the IV came next. She came to check on me at one point and could see that I was in much more pain that earlier. (Perhaps God’s way of punishing me for laughing off earlier contractions? I’ll never know.) She joked that this was just the “smoke” and I hadn’t even seen the “fire” yet. Yeah. Hahahahaha! Wait. Really?

It’s true what they say about forgetting the pain. Looking back, I don’t recall it being that bad. I never did scream like the lady down the hall. I had to incorporate some odd breathing techniques. Which, by the way, I totally made up on the fly. I don’t think I could have concentrated enough to do the technique taught to me in the childbirth class. I distinctly remember going completely inward when those really bad contractions started happening. People would say stuff to me and I’d just kind of grunt and nod. Trapped inside my head, not really hearing anyone. It was about this time that my doc stopped by and said, “Yep. She’s ready for some drugs.” I emphatically nodded my agreement.

It took about 15 minutes or so for the Beautiful Goddess, sorry, I mean anesthesiologist, to come by. I always feared this procedure. A needle in my spine. Ow. Granted, it’s not a spinal tap, but still. Yikes. Truth is, when  you are feeling the pain of contractions, a 3 inch metal spike could be the delivery system for that sweet release and you’d say “bring it on!” They put some kind of pain medicine in my IV so I could relax long enough to sit, bend forward over my belly, and hold still for the epidural. Oh my sweet, sweet Jesus. The difference in my demeanor was like night and day. “Now we’re cookin’. Let’s have a baby people!”

I think it was lucky they gave me the epidural when they did. 15 to 30 minutes later and it may have been too late to get one. I had a little button that allowed me to dispense a little more when I felt the need. I got to push that button one time and immediately afterward they shut it off completely. It was showtime. This little girl was ready to come out. They explained to me that I’d need to listen to the nurses and when they told me, I was to push as hard as I could and try to hold it for a count of ten. At least I think it was ten. May as well have been 100. It seemed like a long time.

Now, here’s the funny part. I had told Ted in advance, that I didn’t expect him to stand right at the end of the bed where he could see all the gory details of the birth itself. Hell, I didn’t want to see it myself, so why should I ask him to watch? I assured him, he could step back to a safe distance and let the nurses help me. One of the nurses turned to him, assuming he wanted a starring role, and said, “Ok, dad. You are going to hold this knee up toward her chest while she pushes and I’ll get the other side.” Ted could very easily have said, “Oh, thanks, but that’s alright. I’ll let you guys do this part.” There was another nurse present. But, that’s not in Ted’s nature. He obediently stepped right up without even hesitating. Effectively giving himself a front row seat to the show with mandatory audience participation.

He was amazing. I was so proud. If he was scared or nervous, I couldn’t tell. Didn’t seem like I had to push too many times before KC was almost out. I remember when the head popped out. I totally felt that. That lovely epidural allowed me to really sense what was happening without actually feeling the burning pain which, I’m quite sure, comes with this particular part of the process. Epidurals are nice. I highly recommend it if you are thinking of birthing a baby anytime soon.

As I mentioned waaaaay back at the beginning of this story, there was that pesky meconium to worry about. Earlier in the day, the doc made it very clear to the nurses that a special team must be present the moment she comes out. “As soon as the head is out you must be sure they are coming.”, she barked. “Sir! Yes. sir!” It was the job of this team of specialists (I’m guessing from the NICU) to help be sure KC didn’t aspirate that nasty stuff. She came out, they grabbed her, she did cry a bit before they could completely clear all the airways, but luckily, nothing bad got into the lungs. I remember they seemed to be thumping her all over with a plastic cup-like thing. Very strange, but soon it was over and she was fine. Just fine. Whew. Relief. I have to admit that even though Ted and I didn’t let the whole “meconium thing” worry us, we were kind of scared.  Who wouldn’t be? They cleaned her up and handed her to us.

It’s kind of fuzzy in my memory, unfortunately, what it was like to first hold her. To see her face for the first time. I was kind of hazy due to the drugs. heh. heh. But I do recall feeling intensely happy, relieved and excited. (Probably also due in part to the drugs. They gave me percoset after too.) We have photos in which we are glowing. Really glowing. Family started pouring into the room. The doc congratulated us and went off to her other mothers-in-labor down the hall. All family had stayed in the waiting area during the real labor. Once I got that epidural, it was clear that we were close. Everyone seemed cool with it being just Ted and I in there for the pushing part. Even my mom admitted that she was too worried about me, her baby, to be in there with the action. Getting updates via Ted was plenty good enough.

All in all, it took roughly 5-6 hours from when I first got the gown on and climbed in the bed. Not too shabby. Especially since a lot of the early hours were spent with very minimal pain, and then also the final portion too thanks to my awesomemagicalwonderfulohmygodeveryoneshouldhaveoneofthese epidural. I’d have to look at KC’s birth certificate to recall the exact time of birth, but I believe it was in the neighborhood of 5-5:30 pm. She was 7 lbs, 10 oz and about 21 inches long.

I’ll look up the stats and update this post later. That’s kind of bad that I can’t say for sure.

Ted brought me dinner at around 7 pm. I very stupidly didn’t eat at home when I had the chance that morning. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. My cafeteria turkey and potatoes was like the food of the God’s by that point. Family came and then went on home to get rested. My BFF came all the way out after work to see me. She was my last visitor and just made my night. Still feeling goofy and happy from the combo of drugs and ohmylordmybabyisfianllyhere, I drifted through the remainder of that evening. Ted stayed at the hospital with us for both nights despite the insanely uncomfortable chair/fouton/torture-device for guests. Nice hospital, but they definitely need to rethink those awful things. He was a trooper. Later he would try to describe the, and I quote, “worse than any horror movie”, “so much blood it was scary” scene he got to see in very close-up detail, as KC slipped and slid her way out into the glaring reality of life. Oh, and then he also saw the placenta come out. Poor guy.

We kept her in our room the 1st night. We let the nursery keep her the 2nd night. We kind of knew that would be our last chance to really sleep for a while. They brought her to me for feeding, but that was it until morning came and then she’d hang with us again. Her cry was unmistakable coming down the hallway. I’ll never forget it.  Some people claim to hate being in the hospital for too long after giving birth. I kind of liked it. I think I will still like it if I have a second. The nurses were wonderful. Very helpful and sweet. It was good for me personally to be there. To rest. Ted, I’m certain, was ready for his own bed.

After what seemed like hours of final visits from pediatrician on duty and nurses with tons of paperwork, they finally gave us the green light to go home. They wheeled the two of us (my daughter and I) outside into the bright September light. Ted brought the car around and then we were off. Off on our own. Just the three of us. Starting our adventures as the Doran family. So far it’s been pretty sweet.

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As a wonderful addition to this birth story, allow me to present “GG’s” take on that day. Thanks, mom!

A report from the other side of the door.  Well, KC someday you will read this and know how excited we all were.  Gramps and I got the call from your Mom about 8:30 a.m. that she was in the hospital.  It had begun.

We had driven back from MN so that we could “attend” the birth.  Perfect, you had decided not to come before we got back and now you were even starting your arrival in the a.m. so we did not have to drive to VA from DE in the middle of the night (we older folks don’t do so well driving at night).  So Gramps and I were up and out in a flash and on our way to the hospital.  It is a 3 hr trip from here.  I was very nervous.  Gramps was calm (that’s his nature).  I have to be honest with you KC, I was thinking more of your Mom—she is MY baby and I had never seen her in real pain or in a situation that could be dangerous.  I dearly wanted a grandbaby, but I just didn’t want anything to happen to her in the process.

We arrived around 1:00 and were ushered into a lovely room (looked like somebody’s home bedroom) curtains, stuffed furniture, really nice.  Your Mom was starting to have some serious pain by now so Gramps and I just held her hand and told her we were here and would be outside the room if she wanted us.  I had decided before the day that I would not be a good one to be in the room while the birth took place and I know Gramps felt the same.  I think it is a very special time for husband and wife, very personal.  Also I was kinda freaked out and did not want to show your Mom that.  She was doing great and your Dad was terrific.

Gramps and I seated ourselves in the little waiting room right outside where your Mom was.  As a nurse passed by I asked when they would take your Mom up to the delivery room (how 70’s of me).  She explained that you would be born right there in that room.  They had all things necessary to handle the birth.  Wow, things had changed from my day—dads in the room and no “delivery room”.  Your Dad came out every few minutes to give us updates.  Soon we were joined by the Doran clan, Grandma and Grandpa D. and Aunt Mary.  We all sat there together enjoying this most exciting event.  We never left that area, all of us holding our breath when around 5:30 p.m. we heard it, your glorious, wonderful, distictive cry—you had arrived.  Your Dad rushed out so happy and proud. All had gone fine and we could come in and meet you in a minute (they wanted to get you and Mom prettied up.)  By 6:00 p.m. we were all in the room together, pictures being taken, hugs and such relief that Mom and Baby were just fine.  Your journey had begun.

Gramps and I left the happy scene about 8:00 p.m. to get a hotel room.  We toasted you with champagne we bought for the occasion and slept knowing we had a beautiful little granddaughter.  The next day we came to the hospital to see you and your Mom and Dad again.  How sweet.  Our little family had a beautiful baby girl to love.  Your Mom and Dad were just great—what a team!

Snow Day

Well, not a real snow day. We all had to work, but it did snow. Quite a bit for our area. The first good snow this season, and KC’s first real experience in it. Technically, her first snow was last year, but since she was only about 4 months old at the time, it doesn’t count.

She went out for a bit at Grandma & Grandad’s house today and apparently wasn’t too sure what to make of it. We let her walk around on our front porch tonight when I brought her home. She still didn’t seem quite sure about it.

“Cold.” she said. Yeah, kid. It’s cold. Maybe if it snows again, you and daddy can try sledding. So long as the sled doesn’t require a parachute that comes out to slow it down, I’m ok with it.

Cold.

Kind of cool.

I guess if dad likes it, I like it too.

Stay warm

Ooooooh! Schoonan!

If there’s one really funny memory of childhood and my brother, Scott, that stands out it’s “Oooooh! Schoonan!” A big part of it was the face. KC does this face perfectly. And, by “us” I refer mainly to: me, my brother, and our two very close friends (and neighbors at the time) A. and J. (I think they’ll know who they are.)

“Schoonan” (pronounce “skoo-none”) was some kind of imaginary friend my brother just made up. He was funny like that. Always with the great imagination. Frankly, all of us had pretty huge imaginations so it worked out nicely. It took physical form for a little while in a stuffed banana that he got in one of those machines where you can grab a toy with the hanging metal claw. (At least I think that’s where it came from.) A little yellow, furry banana. For some reason it just seemed obvious that was “Schoonan”.

So, we’d squeal (very high pitched), “Oooooooh!” and follow up with “Schoonan!” and make a face like this:

"Oooooo! Schoonan!"

Born to be goofy.

I know she gets a lot of silliness from her Dad. She and he act silly together each day the way some people excercise. But, there are times when I know that she’s definitely a Gordon too. It’s not about practice, or playtime rituals. It’s just in there. In the expressions. She carries a little bit of all of us in there.

No lack of cuteness here.

I want to enter KC in the “Beautiful Baby Search 2009” contest that is done by Parenting magazine and Regis and Kelly Live each year. Is that totally cheesy? I’ve looked at the photos from 2008 and now the (already huge) slideshow that is growing for this year’s entries. She’s as cute (if not cuter) than a lot of the babies. Then again, there are a ton of kids already entered and many of them are indeed beautiful. It’s open until mid February so the number is sure to double. The likelihood of her winning is slim at best. No offense to my beautiful daughter! Who knows, though. I suppose it doesn’t hurt to try.

It’s tough taking a photo that fits the bill. We have a ton of great photos of her, but not a whole lot that make good “head shots”. I think the judges really want to see a dead on face shot (no food smears) which shows that your kid likes the camera. Just a gut feeling. KC never sits still! Plus, outdoor light is so much better but, due to the cold, we haven’t spent much time outside lately. Indoor shots mean major red eye for KC. She’s like her mama in that way.

The best photos I’ve taken so far are below. I had to do it while she was strapped into the car seat, but they came out really nice. What do you think? I am taking photos each day to try and get that perfect “face shot” that clearly shows what she looks like and lets her great personality come through. I’d love one without the “restraining device” cleary highlighted.

Somehow, even though they are great shots, it just doesn’t do her justice. Not like the ones where she’s goofing off in a hat and sunglasses, wearing a beer box, or chowing down on some corn on the cob. No lack of cuteness, or personality with this kid. The key is capturing both just right. We shall see…

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Adendum: I did in fact enter a photo this week. Not the exact one, but very similar to #2 above. Fingers crossed. There are about 362-gazillion babies already up on the random slideshow, and that’s not even all they have recieved. KC isn’t up there…yet. I keep checking! If you love looking at cute babies you can check it here. Sounds like March 9th is the day they unveil the 10 semifinalists on the show.

Yesterday, TODAY and tomorrow.

Six years ago today my brother, Scott, committed suicide. He was 27 years old and it shocked us all. I almost didn’t post about it. Why? I hate to make my Mom and Dad feel sad. But I realized, they are going to be sad today whether I mention it or not. It seemed wrong somehow to ignore it. I know that all three of us think of him every single day. Some days are harder than others, and today is one of them.

I’m not going to post photos, or go on and on about how amazing he was. Those who knew him, already know how beautiful and amazing he was. Those who didn’t know him…I couldn’t possibly put it into words. Not in just one simple post anyway.

What I wanted to do was acknowledge the day. Acknowledge him. I loved my brother very much. Despite the fact that he’s no longer with us, I still have a brother. I often tell people I meet stories about us. Sometimes I don’t bother to mention that he died. I don’t even care if they know. I have good memories. Good stories. They should be shared.

Depression is a scary thing. So many people suffer from it. Some more than others. It needs to be talked about. Take it from someone who doesn’t like to talk much about her feelings. I don’t think I’m suffering from real clinical depression myself, but then again. Who knows. Can you be that objective about yourself? We assume my brother was, and just didn’t talk to us about it. We’ll never really know for sure. Talk. To a friend, a family member, a doctor. Just talk sometimes. Our society is getting better at recognizing depression and other mental illness as being as important to diagnose and treat as say, diabetes. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to hide.

Here are two wonderful resources that my Mom made me aware of. Whether you visit because you, or a loved one needs help, or you want to make a donation to the cause of preventing suicide, or you are just curious. Whatever your reason, take a peek. You might learn something, or find something that will help you, or someone else.

Active Minds:
http://www.activeminds.org/

The Association for Suicide Prevention:
http://www.afsp.org/

Sending you all lots of love.
-Jen

My parents went to see Metallica and all I got was this stupid t-shirt.

Ok, this is cool.

Yeah, rock and roll! I like it!

Wait. Is that a coffin? Seriously??

I fear for my future. You people are disturbed.

Ok, so I admit, it’s a tad morbid to put a coffin on a kid’s t-shirt. Eh. What are you gonna do. It’s heavy metal after all.

The Metallica concert at the Verizon Center this past Thursday was great. Very energetic show. Everyone said so. Metallica was even inducted into the Music Hall of Fame recently, which makes fans everywhere happy. Fun day for Mom and Dad. Especially for Dad. He was on cloud 9 the entire weekend. KC may not grow up to appreciate the fine music her parents love, but that’s ok. We’ll keep trying to force it on her. That’s sure to do the trick!

We saw another Dad with his daughter at the restaurant where we gathered to await “showtime”. He said it was her first concert. He was a big fan and was getting to share this milestone with her. It was cool. I joked with Ted that maybe he would take KC one day. Of course, this Dad was about our age and his daughter looked to be about 15. If Ted does get to take KC to a Metallica concert 15 years from now, both he and the band may need walkers. Eeek.

10.2 Honest Things

I’ve been tagged by a fellow blogger to share 10 honest things about myself and then “tag” 7 other bloggers. Unfortunately, this other blog friend is the only person I know well enough to ask, and obviously, she’s already done the task. That’s ok though. This is a great opportunity for me to share some things about myself that others may, or may not know. I couldn’t help but add a couple of extra ones.

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1. When I was very little, I liked to chew on paper like it was gum. I once got caught (and called out) by my kindergarten teacher for chewing on a small piece of cardboard while in class. It was totally embarrassing. Obviously, since I still remember it to this day. Thanks, bitch.

2. I have been coloring my hair since about high school. I started going grey at about age 27. I didn’t start coloring due to greys, but it is definitely why I continue. I started because it’s just fun. The best color job: when I dyed it myself (along with my BFF) a very dark auburn that looked almost maroonish black for a few days. My mom’s face was priceless. My only regret: never getting to try pink streaks or something really wild. I’m much too old now. Although, Ted would disagree, but he’s a bit wacky. I keep it a nice medium blonde these days. All the better to keep the grey camouflaged.

3. I say I love bands like Metallica and Linkin Park (and I do), but I also secretly love songs like “Yeah” by Usher, a few Beyonce and Brittany Spears hits, and numerous other “not so bad-ass” songs that I buy on iTunes, but would never buy the whole CD.

4. I bite and pick at my nails like it’s my full-time job. I even do it to my toe nails when they are exposed. I am so comfortably married at this point that I’ll do it in front of my husband on the couch too. Gross. I sometimes put the little nail pieces into the cracks between cushions on the couch. Do you still love me? I know. Gross. Totally gross.

5. My husband gives me pedicures and plucks my eyebrows. Ok, technically that’s an honest thing about him. I just wanted to brag.

6. I sometimes worry that I don’t have enough ambition in my job. I’ve been at the same place for almost 13 years now and I like it. I’m comfortable. As a graphic designer, however, I know that some in my field push and work to get recognition that you just cannot get working for the same small association like I have. To win awards, to work on a globally recognized campaign. Truth: I really don’t give a shit. Especially now that I’m a wife and mom. I’m grateful to have a job that pays, isn’t too demanding and gives me the time to be at home by 5pm and not work weekends. I also never want to be anyone’s boss.

7. I consider the idea of quitting this job and going full-time freelance. BIG step for me. A bit of a contradiction to #6. To be completely responsible for my own salary, benefits, etc. and not always know how much $$ would be coming in…wow. Scary. I doubt I’ll ever have the guts. For now it’s good extra income to moonlight as a freelancer when I have the time.

8. I have two cats, but I’m not really a cat lover. Not really even an animal lover. I like animals well enough and I do love my cats. I do. I’m not heartless. I would never give them away, or hurt them. However, if I’m being honest, I wish I hadn’t taken them in some days. As sweet as they both are, I hate the litter and the hair and the occasional puke on my bed. I also hate how much the vet charges. I hate my guilty conscience nagging at me because they haven’t gone to the vet in a while. I also know, when they die, I’ll be sad for a little while then I’ll get over it. I won’t take off work or anything. For me, pets have never been like people. Is that awful? I feel a little bit awful admitting it.

9. I am very uncommunicative. Very. No one knows this better than my husband, Ted. I am very lucky to have someone so loving and affectionate. He’s not perfect either, mind you, but I almost never tell him when he’s doing something that bothers me. I hold back. I hate to argue with anyone. If there is one BIG issue in our marriage it’s this fact. I need to SPEAK my mind, and not bottle it all in. It’s one thing to be annoyed at someone, but you have no excuses later if you just hold it all in. It festers, it affects your day to day relationship, and it’s not good. I need to work on this big time. He deserves better. We both do.

10-a. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to be a mom. Truly. Both Ted and I waffled a little on that one, although before I got pregnant he talked about it more than me. I probably would have been fine if we just cruised through life as a married couple who had the freedom to do whatever we wanted, when we wanted. We both knew we were open to the idea of children, we just couldn’t bring ourselves to say “yes” it is definitely the path for us. So, 2 years after we tied the knot, we left it open (and by open, I mean no birth control) and “bingo” along came KC. Deep down, I knew I would eventually start a family, but I was so scared of making the leap. This was the best way for me. It took almost 2 years to concieve, so it seemed like a bit of a surprise. A very good surprise. KC is a wonderful gift and I wouldn’t change it for anything. We are even considering a second, although the jury is still out. I still HUGELY miss my pre-Mom independence and the crazy amounts of free time I didn’t even realize I had before. Having a baby changes everything. That isn’t just a tagline for Pampers (or whatever brand uses it). It’s complete and utter truth like no other truth out there. It’s scary and it’s crazy and it’s awesome all at the same time.

10-b. I hope I can be the mom KC needs me to be. I hope I can be honest and see her for who she is and not just who I want her to be. It’s got to be tough as a parent to find that line between guiding them, and pushing them to be something so specific because you feel you know what is best for them. I am so scared of the years when KC is old enough to look at me and judge me. I want her to know I’m not perfect and I want to be honest with her while at the same time keeping my integrity as the authority figure. And that’s ok, right? Jeez. I’ll bet I read this in 15 years and roll my eyes. Watch her turn into a tattooed, pierced, hell-child who wants to drop out of school and move to California with a 20-something, wanna-be rocker. Good lord, will I still be able to “let her be herself” then? Hold me. I’m scared.

10-c. I wish my boobs were bigger and I’ve even considered getting a boob job. Nothing outrageous. I don’t need to look like Dolly Parton or anything. Give me a B, or maybe even a C cup. That would be like heaven. My barely A’s on this tall frame are just not cutting it. Even pregnancy didn’t help. I guess on the upside, there’s nothing much to sag as I grow older…I could probably run without a sports bra if I needed to…My husband can hold me even closer. All very nice, but seriously, to just have some really mouth watering cleavage, just once before it all goes south. That would be so nice. I’ll never do it though. Mainly because it’s expensive and I hear you can count on one (or both) deflating and needing more work at least once. That would be a drag.

Hitting the Bottle

Or, “ba-dole” as KC pronounces it. She’s constantly got a bottle of milk in hand when we are at home. I didn’t take much notice at first, because she also drinks water all day from sippy cups. However, I’m realizing lately that she seems awfully attached to the idea of a bottle with milk in it. She may not necessarily even drink it all. She just likes having one close at hand. At this point, when the baby bottles should be fading out, they seem to be making a small comeback. Maybe this is normal? It is almost certainly our fault. I mean, we give her milk exclusively in bottles now that I think about it. Sippy cups are for water and juice. Right?

It’s not such a bad thing. I don’t really think it is necessary for parents to go crazy with stuff like bottles and pacifiers. Struggling to keep them away from young toddlers as if they will still be sucking themselves to sleep in college. Kids do what they need to do then usually move on. From what I’ve noticed anyway.

I did let her have a bottle of milk while I coaxed her to sleep last night. I do it from time to time. However, on this one thing, I do agree with the parent/medical consensus. It is a bad idea. Simply for the teeth. And KC has a lot of teeth. I have tried really hard not to let it become the norm. We “brush teeth” right after bath and, typically, that’s the end of anything other than water. Most nights she’s ok with that. She’ll chant “ba-dole”, “ba-dole” for a bit, then forget about it. Some nights she seems too anxious for it and I, being very tired, give in knowing it will speed the bedtime process along.

She’s also got a habit of leaving her bottles of milk on the floor. On their sides, dripping on the hardwood. We are very adamant when we see this about asking her to “pick it up”, “put it on the table”. Same for sippy cups. Usually she does it right away. Sometimes she just stares at us, or smiles and picks up something else. She’s no dummy though. She definitely knows what we are asking her to do. One day, early on, she astounded me when I asked “where’s your bottle?” and she led me to her room where she got down on the floor and pointed under the crib. What a memory. It had been roughly 15 minutes or so since she had been in there. I never would have found that particular bottle. Well, maybe when the stench of rotting milk finally permeated.

KC is a smart kid. She seems to know what she wants. If I can just keep those teeth in good health, I’ll gladly hand over the bottle as long as she feels she wants one. She also seems interested in trying to sip from regular cups, so here’s hoping she loses interest in the baby bottles right about the time she can sip from a “big kid” cup without spilling it all over herself. She never did care for pacifiers, so at least there’s that.

Cheers.

Marjorie (Hessen) Gordon

Although we had a wonderful Christmas holiday, there was sadness to it as well. My Grandma Marge, my dad’s mom, passed away on Christmas eve morning. It wasn’t completely unexpected due to the fact that she had taken ill a few days prior. However, when you lose someone, no matter their age, or situation, it is hard. Grandma Marge had been living in a nursing home for quite a few years and had Alzheimer’s. It was difficult to see her like that. I personally didn’t see her but once a year, and I regret to say, I missed seeing her this past summer. She never met KC, which makes me sad. However, it isn’t all sad. I have amazing memories of my Grandma Marge from Minnesota and I plan to tell KC all about her. She and my Grandpa Bing, who passed when I was much younger, were wonderful Grandparents. I have countless funny and comforting memories of summers at their house and at our family cabin.

My father submitted a wonderful write-up about my Grandmother to her local paper, and I want to share it. She was a cool lady. I feel very lucky to have had her in my life.

*****

Marjorie (Hessen) Gordon

Marjorie Jennie (Hessen) Gordon died December 24, 2008 at the Sunrise Home in Two Harbors. She was born in Two Harbors in 1917 to Dagney (Soderberg) and Nels Hessen. She grew up in a combination of old world culture and a vibrant industrial economy, and enjoyed the nurturing of both the Swedish and Norwegian Lutheran churches. Marjorie talked of railroad trips with her folks to various junctions and spurs near lakes and small towns for railroad-sponsored picnics. The train trips back were filled with songs, hugs and displays of fresh-caught fish.

Marjorie graduated from Two Harbors High School in 1933. Her memories included working at restaurants on Seventh Avenue with the surging crowds during summer delivered by ever-arriving Greyhound buses. Margie met Bernard “Bing” Gordon during one of the many New Deal social events that took place in the area. It may have been a Work Projects Agency dance at either Two Harbors or the Gooseberry Project. They were married just before Bing went to war. She had her son, Brian, in Ely in 1942. She moved back to Two Harbors and worked in the war-support cannery on Highway 61 while Bing and a few others finished up WWII. When Bing returned they all moved to a rather spacious second-story apartment at her folk’s home on 10th Avenue. A second son, Stephen, was born in 1947.

She, her sister Carol, Bing and son Brian helped Mother Dagney establish and run the ever-popular 10th Avenue store during the fifties. They maintained a dependable source of support for uptown residents through good times and bad with generous credit at no interest. Marge became a regular at Two Harbors Lanes where she won many trophies. Within a few years Bing, Marge, Brian and Steve built a house at Flood Bay. Without Bing’s knowledge, she purchased a lot at Bassett Lake in Brimson to be near childhood friends. But Bing was more than pleased with the purchase, and built a lovely cabin that stands today and is still enjoyed by their children and grandchildren. Marge and Bing spent many years watching seagulls over Lake Superior and loons on Bassett Lake.

Marge contracted Alzheimer’s Disease in her late 70’s and spent her last years at the Sunrise Home in Two Harbors in the care of loving staff. She shared in many activities and had many visitors. She laughed and seemed happy and able to recognize folks until the end. Her daughter-in-law (Brian’s wife Karen) remembers her as “the best Mother-in-law a person could have.”

She was preceded in death by her Husband Bing, Brother Neil and Sister Joyce. Marjorie is survived by two sons—Brian of Fenwick Island, DE and Bassett Lake, and Steve of Two Harbors, sister Carol Skomars of Green Valley, AZ, and brother Willard of Palm Bay, FL. She had four grandchildren—Jennie Doran and Scott Gordon of VA, Peter Gordon of Oakdale, MN and Stephanie Gordon of Two Harbors. She also had five great grandchildren—Kelly Clare Doran, Emily, Elena and Elise Gordon, and Ashton Pinske. We’re going to miss you Margie.

Awwww crap.

Happy New Year! Sorry I’ve been away for a little while. Guess I needed a break after the holidays and my attempt to blog all December long.

We spent New Year’s Eve at home, but still had fun. My Birthday was this past weekend. We went out to dinner at a Japanese steak house, then played the shuffle board table at a local bar. (Big thanks to “GG” for babysitting.) It was fun. However, come Monday morning, upon reaching for my purse, I realized I had lost my wallet sometime around midnight on Saturday.

Crap.

I never should have brought it out in the first place. I sometimes par back to an ID and some cash when we go out to bars. I make Ted carry them for me. He actually offered Saturday night. I should have accepted. I am fairly certain I dropped it in the cab that took us home. I was a tad drunk (no! really?), so I honestly am not sure where it went missing. I vaguely remember taking it out in preparation for paying the driver and then having Ted tell me he would get it, so this is my best guess.

Yes, I have searched the house (and the front yard).

Yes, I have canceled the credit cards.

Yes, I am a complete dumbass because I carry, like, EVERYTHING in my wallet. Driver’s license, credit cards, checkbook, medical cards, those little cards the bank gives you with your account number, my social security number…

Insert sound of record needle slipping off the turntable.

Yep. You understood that last one correctly. My SS#. Dumbass. I think I will probably issue a fraud alert to the credit report agencies in case anyone tries to “be me”. On the upside, I know for a fact no one used either of my credit cards before I could report them lost/stolen. I am holding out hope someone will find it under a cab seat and send it back to me with everything in it. Sigh.

My top New Year’s resolution? Slim down the wallet (along with my abs and ass) to only the essentials for everyday use. Or…perhaps I could go the opposite route and make sure to include the key to my house next time. I mean, why not? I have so much other cool stuff that anyone would love to have.

Have you ever done anything this stupid unfortunate? Make me feel better. Leave a comment.