Month of sickness

We are glad January is over. Yes, I know February is over as well, but it was most of January that was no fun, and it took the last half of February for me to recover!

We started the new year by transitioning Emmett to formula. So far, none of my irrational fears have come to fruition, thank goodness. He's still as chunky as ever and it appears he still loves me; he has entered the phase of babyhood where he loves to plant big, sloppy and lingering kisses on my face. I call them kisses, anyway. Emmett's dimply smile could melt a glacier. I do love him so.

Around mid-January I noticed a few small red bumps on Rolin's face that I immediately attributed to bugs. After they started to multiply, I started to get concerned, but also figured it was a little reaction to climbing trees or maybe even to lime yogurt (citrus gives him a diaper rash...so it was a logical assumption, I thought). As soon as the spots made the hop from right side of the face to the left and began to take on a more blotchy appearance, we headed to the doctor.

Long story short, we stumped the doctors. The rash was confined to his face. It kind of itched, but he wasn't bothered by it. He hadn't ever had a fever... They sent pictures of Rolin to an infectious diseases doctor, became worried it could be a form of measles, then had us go next door to the lab to have some blood drawn for testing. Rolin rocked the lab procedures...left his mask on the entire time we waited, as well as during the test, and he hardly cried at all as they stuck him with a needle to draw samples.

That was a Friday, of course.

At the doctor. He was "getting milk out..." 

He'll be angry about me posting this picture someday, I'm sure. 

On Saturday he spiked a 102.7 degree fever and was mopey. His dots began to fade, but he also developed a wicked cough and runny nose. At our follow-up appointment Monday, after reviewing the blood work analysis --- he was totally fine; great white blood cell count, etc.,  --- a nasal swab determined he had RSV. A look in his ear lead to the discovery of an ear infection. His first ear infection ever!

The rash? It was chalked up to just being part of the virus. A mystery, in other words.

Emmett, so far, by then, was ok. He had had a bit of a cough for a couple weeks, but he wasn't wheezy or miserable. With Justin being out of town, the doctor asked if I had any family around who could help me keep the boys separated for a few more days.

I called Gigi on the way home, and she graciously came to my rescue.

We were sent home with prescriptions for Rolin's ears and also for albuterol to use in the nebulizer as a breathing treatment. A few days later, Rolly was improving, but developed a nasty, yeasty diaper rash from the ear antibiotics, the poor dear.

By the following Friday, Emmett was coughing worse. His eyes were watery and his nose ran nonstop. He never had a fever, so I just sat with him in a steamy bathroom and kept the humidifier on at all times. That night he coughed so hard he barfed up his bottle on me. Twice. Justin got called just after midnight regarding an emergency at a store in Tucson, so he had to leave. At midnight.

In the morning Emmett was wheezy...I had my neighbor come over to confirm the wheeziness; partially because Justin was gone, partially because I had had little sleep and partially because I was sort of at my wits' end from all the coughing, barfing, snot, breathing treatments and so on. Emmett had been short of breath for a few days, and I was beginning to worry I'd overlooked too much and he was developing pneumonia.

That's a mom's brain for you.

Wheeziness confirmed, I made my first ever trip to an urgent care center. I was sort of nervous about it, but we received excellent treatment, I couldn't have been happier about our experience! The practitioner who saw Emmett even called me about a week later to see how things were going. #impressed.

Miserable peanut at urgent care.

Emmett started to improve, thanks to the steroid they gave him at urgent care. By the next day, Super Bowl Sunday, he was in great shape! A little tired, but doing much better (which was great because we were hosting a Super Bowl party at our house!). I thought he would get worse again after the steroid wore off, but by the middle of the week he seemed to be healed.

Go Hawks! Em felt better!

Suddenly, however, the following weekend, his health regressed; he was wheezy again and simply looked miserable. He also cough-barfed another entire bottle all over me, this one going directly down my shirt into my pj pants, down my leg into my shoe. So I called the doctor again.

Yeah, I wear shoes with my pj pants. So what?!

My darling husband offered to take Emmett to the pediatrician where it was confirmed he did in fact have RSV (still...apparently it can last for a couple weeks, with symptoms ebbing and flowing as Emmett's had). Justin took him back mid-week for a follow-up where it was confirmed Emmett now had an ear infection.

I was so grateful for Justin's offer to take Emmett to the pediatrician. I'd been there so many times in the last two months...it was almost too hard to take him up on his offer since I'm the one that usually takes the boys; I knew what I wanted answers to, I knew what had already been asked, I knew what time Emmett had medicine and what he had, I knew the timeline of his symptoms...

But, letting Justin take Emmett was a learning experience for the both of us. I learned to let go a little, and Justin learned that you take a prescription to a pharmacy and that medicine for an ear infection is not administered in the ear.

The boys appeared to be over the worst of it by Valentine's Day weekend, which was perfect timing as that was the weekend Joe and Brianna came down to visit. Whew! Now it's March. After a week of complete health, however, both boys are suffering from either allergies or another cold. Just like everyone else in Arizona. At least, for the time being anyway, no one is wheezy or barking like a seal.

Emmett's Insides, Part II

Remember two years ago when I wrote about our adventures with the pediatrician and Rolin's cow's milk protein allergy?

It's Emmett this time. He has it too.

His is worse, though. Rolin's didn't show up until he was about four months old (that and we didn't know any better).

Almost one month to the day after Emmett was born, his beautiful, seedy, mustard yellow, perfect-looking breast-fed-baby poop turned dark green.

I hoped and prayed it was simply an imbalance in foremilk/hindmilk, though I knew that wasn't going to be the case. He was a champion eater.

He pooped frequently and most of them were mucusy. As predicted, a stool sample left at the doctor's office came back positive for blood.

So I cut dairy out of my diet.

Green, blood and mucus continued so we tried eliminating dairy and soy. I told the doctor that eggs upset my stomach sometimes, so she suggested taking it easy on eggs. I also told her I ate peanut butter every day, so she suggested trying almond butter instead. She also mentioned corn is becoming more of an issue with babies.

After two weeks of no dairy, soy, eggs, corn, peanuts or coconut (my own hunch), diapers started turning yellow again. Hallelujah!

The celebration was short-lived. I introduced some of those items, all except dairy and soy, back to my diet, and the nasty green poo returned.

So I cut them all again. It didn't work this time. Except for three random days after Thanksgiving when he had beautiful, seedy, mustard yellow, perfect-looking breast-fed-baby poop again. The only thing I had done differently leading up to that time was I had no wine or beer.

I also started being suspicious of strawberries, tomatoes, grapes...

Dairy and soy are in a lot of food (there is soy in the gum brand we chew), but corn is in everything, guys. Corn syrup, cornstarch, corn oil...did you realize baking powder is cornstarch?

All this nonsense was driving me insane. Not only was I hungry all the time, my physical and mental health were starting to take a turn. Crazy diets can mess with your flora, man!

Changing Emmett's diapers filled me with dread. Sometimes I would tell myself the poop looked yellow, only to have my balloon of hope popped when I'd ask Rolin what color it was and he'd say, "green!"

Two-year-olds don't lie when it comes to color-coding poop.

Some days were filled with tears which welled up out of frustration, confusion, obsession, terror, anger, doubt, feelings of failure/poor parenting, empty hope...

Overall, Emmett is a growing, thriving baby. His reactions could be worse (Google image search it, if ye doubt the claim). He only had a couple eczema spots (Rolin had many) and he was generally happy (but boy, can he scream). His spit up was never projectile, though there was quite a bit of it.

We made several trips to the doctor, who had a child of her own with cow's milk, soy and corn allergies, so I trust her assessment in this situation. She said she would support me continuing to breast feed or to move to formula. That may make a sane person feel better, but it was around Christmas time my mama heart could take no more of the nasty poops. I was fearful, nervous, obsessive, getting more gray hair and, most of all, joyless.

This situation was robbing me of my ability to experience and appreciate the joy surrounding me: my two beautiful, smart, growing, curious, amazing boys. I would have to almost daily look in the mirror and tell myself to snap out of the funk I was in; to put on a smile and go be silly with my 2-year-old; to believe Emmett was going to be ok and go scoop him up and kiss him all over because he is mine and I can, and should, do that instead of being afraid to love him wholeheartedly because I was terrified I was slowly killing him. I've been in a bad place. The past five months had flown by and all I can really remember about them is green poop. That's no way to live life.

Two weeks ago, after he had about nine water-like green poos in one day, followed by a day of bloody poo, I knew it was time to do formula.

Another reason I was dreading formula was because the transition with Rolin was awful. Rolin thought we were trying to kill him. Joe and Brianna were visiting that weekend and can attest to the terribleness of it. We tried sippy cups, spoons, syringes, real cups, several different brands of bottles...he simply would not drink it, not to mention I became super engorged and uncomfortable for about two weeks. But, in the end, Rolin drank it and my boobs recovered. All was fine; Rolin was even allergy-free by 15-months-old.

Emmett is now on Alimentum, the liquid kind because that's the only corn-free formula. His poops look a lot better now, which is the overall goal. He fussed a little at the first bottle and denied the second bottle until it was mixed with breast milk. By the forth bottle he was flapping his arms in hungry excitement at the sight of a bottle of straight formula; he hasn't given breast milk a second thought since. Whaaaat??

Yep, he hardly batted an eye. Weaning has been a lot easier on me this time too, which is a huge relief. Now I just need to come up with $11 extra a day for the next six months to feed the kid (insurance denied our request because Emmett is gaining weight. Another story for another time).

I could go on about this -- it was for five months, after all -- but I'll stop here. Many of my acquaintances and relations are tired of hearing about this, I'm sure, but I thank them for their listening, patience and support!!

From November -- already two months ago! 

Embracing the moment. Picture taken at post time.

Rolin meets Emmett (sorta)

We wanted to bring Rolin in to the hospital room alone for a few minutes so we could introduce him to his brother as a new family of four. I had pictured the moment in my mind for quite some time, and had a dream of how the ideal scene would unfold...all four of us up on my bed, gazing at the new baby...Rolin asking sweetly to kiss the new one's forehead...

Picture perfect, you could say.

However.

As Rolin walked in our hospital room, we asked him, "Would you like to meet baby Emmett?"

His response: "No. Don't want to." In his trademark way of ending each sentence as if it's a question.

He then headed straight for my hospital-issued water & ice cup with bendy straw, then over to the couch by the window to check out the view.

Ha!

With that I said, "Oh, just bring everyone in already! Haha!"

Eventually, we encouraged him to check out his brother, and, of course, he went straight for the eyes.

Eyes. They're so mysterious!

Rolin meets Emmett at the hospital:



A week or so later we took Emmett back to the hospital to get his PKU test done. As we approached the hospital, Rolin shouted, "It's baby Emmett's house!"

We've since passed the hospital a few times and Rolin will say the same thing, "Hey, that's Emmett's house!"

Oh, to be two!

Emmett's birth story

My midwife asked me, at a postnatal appointment, what I remembered most from Emmett's birth. I chuckled a bit, but took a minute to think back on the day that already seems ages ago, yet just like yesterday at the same time.

1 week

I'm so glad she asked. I could sit here and quickly type out what happened, but it's different to list off a couple moments I remember most. I think I'm even more thankful she sat and listened intently, allowing me to recant a few precious and memorable moments from the birth of my second baby. Since the dawn of time, women have been giving birth; doctors, midwives and husbands who drive too slow have been catching babies just as long, but each birth is different and each birth is special. I felt honored that she, especially being the one who was there, gave me the opportunity to tell her my story again without seeming bored or rushed. She's in the right career, my midwife.

The three things I remember most:

• Leaving massive puddles in the ER and no one seemed to care
• Me laughing when my midwife told me they deliver lots of babies in the shower
• The delivery team saying, "Here, take the baby!" to me within seconds of him being out

Now, here's the rest of the story (and there are pictures at the end):

Emmett Robert Thompson was born at 12:59 a.m. Friday, July 25th, just 59 minutes shy of sharing a birthday with big brother Rolin. He weighed in at 6 lbs., 12 oz. and 19.5 inches long. Though he has since lost much of it, his hair was dark brown, almost black, and he has dark blue-steel eyes.

As you know, Thursday, July 24th, was Rolin's birthday. He turned two! We spent most of the day at home because we had celebrated his birthday the weekend before at the Phoenix Children's Museum. I also wasn't feeling my best; I was experiencing lots of cramping and pressure, all part of of being three days away from your due date. I had made a run to the midwife's office that morning, too, because I had received a phone call from our local grocer telling me I'd purchased either peaches, nectarines or plums that were part of the listeria recall...thankfully all was fine, but I was nervous considering I'd eaten my pregnancy weight in nectarines the last month or so.

I was hooked up to monitor the baby at the midwife's office for a while because his heart rate was a bit on the low side. This is apparently is normal for how early it was in the morning, he was a boy and almost due, but we all wanted to be on the safe side anyway. Things were fine after the monitoring session; we learned the baby was still heads down and I was dilated to about 3 cm (woo! I like a head start).

Back at home the cramping continued. Some were extreme Braxton Hicks contractions, some were just from pressure of baby being so low and about due, but some were intense enough I had to focus and breathe through them. Nothing was consistent or gaining frequency, the two factors which indicate true labor contractions, though I still kept track of them, just in case.

I didn't think much of it, see, because this same cramping and pressure happened exactly three days before I had Rolin...

I took it pretty easy the rest of the day, and had let Karen take over in the kitchen by that point, especially considering it was about 112F that week. Standing in the kitchen for any more than 10 minutes made my ankles swell dramatically. After dinner we had ice cream cake, went on a walk, opened a couple more presents with Rolin and Facetimed with a few folks. I also thought to ask a few friends for last minute labor-management tips. One reminded me to make sounds like Dory speaking whale on "Finding Nemo" as low-pitched sounds helps keep you relaxed, whereas high pitched sounds result from being tensed.

Around 10 p.m. it was time for bed. Around 10:30 p.m., as I settled into my pregnancy sleeping nest, made up of approximately 86 pillows, I felt a POP-POP-POP...splush.

"Justin!?" I said, in a calm, yet alerting, manner.

"It's time, isn't it?" he answered back from the shower, having understood the tone of my voice.

"Yep. Water broke!" I said.

Then the chaos began, just as it did with Rolin. Of course I had half washed-off mascara all over my face, I was wearing my ever-fashionable pregnant sleeping shorts (yellow with pink flamingos) and some shirt...I don't remember. I quickly threw on different clothes, made a quick trip to the bathroom to access...things...grabbed a towel, threw my slippers in our hospital bag and headed for the stairs. Justin alerted his parents and off we went.

Just as with Rolin I didn't experience any contractions en route, but it was definitely clear that my water had broke this time!

The check-in process at this hospital was quite different than with Rolin's birth. Everyone in labor, day or night, checks in through the ER. So, I waddle in, causally walk up to the counter and tell the receptionist, "Hi. My name is Christine and I believe I'm in labor?...My water broke...It's actually getting all over the floor!!" Justin brought over a wheelchair; sitting down caused more water to escape..like, a lot of water. Gallons, by my estimate. I was sitting in the wheelchair, in the middle of the ER room, giggling because I was leaving puddles on the floor and no one batted an eye. They brought me a sheet to put over my lap and continued to CASUALLY and SLOWLY ask me a series of check-in questions...WHILE I WAS LEAVING PUDDLES ON THE ER FLOOR.

As luck would have it, we had "the new girl" checking us in, so she just sat there smiling and staring at me as I breathed through contractions. I, politely as possible, asked her if she was quite finished yet when a labor & delivery nurse burst through the door. Oh, I was happy to see her. Again the check-in gal just starred as another contraction rolled through, so I asked her again if she was quite finished with my insurance and ID card so I could go. After a bit more fumbling, she wrapped it up, I think I signed something and we left. .

The ridiculousness of that whole thing is funny. Now.

Upstairs in triage I worked through a couple of contractions, was told I was at 4 or 5 cm dilated, got assigned a L&D nurse and then went to our delivery room. I opted for no epidural or IV since I knew I had done it once without, but I did sign a consent form for an epidural, just in case. Contractions were already just a couple minutes apart, so I figured (prayed, hoped and wished) it would be another quick one.

Once in the birthing room I opted to sit on a birthing ball (just a big exercise ball) at first, but then my midwife suggested standing in the shower. I poo-poo'd it at first, mainly because of how uncomfortable I was in the jacuzzi with Rolin, but decided to try it because I know warm water feels good on a crampy, achy back.

"We've delivered several babies in the shower!" said the midwife, with a smile.

"Ohh, haha," I replied, as I shuffled to the shower.

It did feel nice. Justin stood outside the shower, counting through contractions and holding my hand to apply pressure to the meaty part between my thumb and forefinger (Nurse Tom did with Rolin and it was awesome).

We stood in there about 30 +/- minutes when all the sudden the contractions changed from intense to party time. About that same time a hospital staffer came in to draw my blood. WHAT?! NOW? SERIOUSLY? was all I could think, but whatever. She asked me to sit down on the stool in the shower and I told her no. There was no way I could sit at that point. She just looked at me and blinked a few times, so I finally made an effort to sit.

Justin asked the blood-drawer to go get the midwife because it was baby time, but he says he watched her walk the opposite direction (we were not pleased with this person, to say the least).

Things had moved so quickly I was already at the point where I couldn't help but push with the contractions. I wasn't sure if I would make it out of the shower!! Justin pulled the emergency cord in the bathroom, which brought in a team of four people rushing to the shower. One of the ladies who came in running got down low as she approached and slid down in between my legs, as if sliding into home plate -- it was impressive -- to check things out (and catch the baby if necessary, I'm sure). No baby quite yet, so they helped me over towards the bed.

I made it as far as the side of the bed and decided that was far enough. As I leaned over it during a contraction, my midwife asked if I wanted to get on the bed, but all I could manage to do at that point was shake my head.

She must have said that position was just fine for delivery because that's where I stayed: leaning over the bed in a sort of standing/squat position.

I was channeling Dory big time by this point. It was definitely go time.

Justin was on the other side of the bed so we were head to head. He was encouraging me and holding my hands/arms as he continued to count me through contractions and pushing.

It's in the pushing phase where fear kicks in; fear of delivery issues, fear of the pain, fear about the condition of the baby, fear about not being able to do it. You do get to a point where you think you won't make it, that you can't do it. But you do. If it wasn't for my husband, my midwife, her assistants and the grace of God, I would have let the fear take over.

"Don't be scared, Christine," I remember my midwife saying.

I wondered how she knew I was suddenly fearful.

It's because she's a rockstar of a midwife, that's how.

It was in the middle of a push when my midwife encouraged me to keep pushing because if I maintained that would be the last push. I remember saying/grunting out loud, "I'm not sure how I can...," but strength came from deep within...I remembered Nurse Tom from Rolin's birth telling me, "You can do this; your body was made for this!" and then...

Boom. Baby.

Sweet relief. Euphoria. Emmett was born.

Total time from water breaking to baby in my arms was 2 hours, 29 minutes.

Remember I was standing? As soon as he was out, the delivery team told me to look down at the baby and take him.

"You want me to hold him now?" I asked, legs shaking furiously.

They handed him to me and I said, "I think someone else should hold him for a minute!" That wasn't possible, though, because they hadn't cut the cord yet and wouldn't for a while. They helped me up onto the bed and began cleaning up baby, right there on my chest.

Our first thought was that he looked nothing like Rolin. We didn't think he looked nothing like anyone in the family, which was so strange because Rolin came out looking EXACTLY like my brother Matt.

Anyway, more on that later!

After you deliver the baby, you have to deliver the placenta. This brings back some contractions. It was a little more intense of a placenta delivery than I remember after Rolin (something people just happen to fail to mention -- afterbirth pains are more intense with each subsequent birth. Wheee.) I actually looked at the placenta this time: it is smooth on the side facing the baby, bumpy on the side where is attaches to the uterus. The amniotic sac was still attached to it too, and my midwife showed me how it stretched to encompass baby. A beautiful miracle all in and of itself. Thank you, placenta, for helping create little Emmett.

As soon as placenta was out, my midwife said, "You are officially unpregnant!"

Justin and I were then proud owners of two babies. It's really crazy if you stop and think about it.

Fresh from the womb!

We thought he didn't look like Rolin, but he does look a lot like Rolin in this picture, haha!

My awesome midwife!

Proud daddy.

Look how little!!!

Happy and proud papa.

Sweet Emmett.

Ready to go home!

I felt so much better after this delivery than I did with Rolin. I think having done it once helped, but I didn't have a great need for ice packs (if you know what I mean) this time around either, which makes a HUGE difference. I chalk that up to the position in which I delivered and the patience the team had with the pushing portion of delivery.

Next up: Rolin meets Emmett (sorta).

Emmett: Weeks 8 - 12

One of these days I'll post words instead of pictures, but sometimes pictures are better than words: 

Outtake:

Breaking Bad

Someone mentioned to me a couple weeks ago that they're anxiously awaiting blog posts. I told them I would totally update the blog more regularly if I wasn't busy binge-watching "Breaking Bad."

I wish I could say that was a joke, but it wasn't.

And I don't really wish it was a joke because "Breaking Bad" (BB) was awesome! Mom and I started watching it when she came to help after Emmett was born. I believe she has started the series over with dad so they can both watch it!

Yes, a big reason for my blog drought is because there are now two tiny terrors in my house, but the main reason is because I WAS binge watching BB. As soon as Rolin was down for his nap, I'd grab Emmett, the boppy, my water and my phone, then settle onto the couch for two to three hours of BB. As soon as Justin would whisk Rolin upstairs for bedtime and/or a bath, I'd grab Emmett, the boppy, my water and phone, then settle onto the couch for at least one episode of BB. Justin's gone on a trip? Whoa, Nelly...I grab Emmett, the boppy, my water and my phone, then settle onto the couch for hours of BB before bed.

The worst part? Justin didn't want to watch it. What???? I know, right!? I had no one with whom I could discuss BB, that is until I found out my neighbors had watched it. They were just as excited to check in on my progress through the series as I was to talk about what crazy, insane, oh-my-gosh situation Mr. White and Jesse had just realized was all their fault.

The second worst part? I finished the series and now I don't have anything to watch.

I'll leave you with this:

BB fans, wouldn't you agree that Angry Emmett looks a bit like Tio Hector Salamanca?

Hector Salamanca, "Breaking Bad"

Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding!

Back in the game

Hello, readers! Please forgive my nearly two-month hiatus. Things are happening around here. I'm working on a blog post about Emmett's arrival, but it's a long, detailed one, and I don't want to forget any of the details, so it's still in the editing room. The next few posts will be out of order, but I figure that's ok, you know, since this is my blog. I do what I want! JK.

Here are pictures of our sweet pea:

The lion is "ROARbert." Rolin's measuring buddy was Lenny the Lamb. 

They're both Scentsy buddies from Mrs. Miller :)

And an outtake...well, it's actually a glimpse into how this weekly event unfolds: