Maeby, a Water Birth Story

While it's already been 5 months, I know I need to write this to remember all the tiny details years from now. I know it's delayed, but anyone with a baby knows how easy it is to put off tasks that are not absolutely necessary. Sorry for the long post, it's mostly for my own memory and I'm sure filled with grammatical errors.  I've never claimed to be a writer. Here it goes, my first labor story:

At 9 months pregnant I was washing the dishes and sneezed.  Gross I know but a bit of pee (or so I thought), quickly trickled all the way down to my ankles! Unusual ~ I figured I just really had to go. I remember thinking, "I am so over this- I want my body back!" ... Good thing I was in the privacy of my own home- that could've been really embarrassing.

It was August. Hot, but still beautiful.  The next day, I went on a walk with a dear friend of mine.  We were trying to walk that baby out of me and were sure to bring water and a cell phone (thanks to her planning really, but I remembered the water). We talked about natural inducement techniques and vitamins. Because of that talk, I decided to stash some evening primrose oil gel-caps in my purse later that day. Staying very close to home we even did some light shopping at a new antique store, it was nice to cool off in their air conditioning.  I had to change every article of clothing when I got home, I sweat so bad on that hot August walk.  Or so I thought.

It wasn't until later that night I had my first inkling that labor could possibly be starting.  A few pains, like menstrual cramps, crept up on me while in bed.  Nothing alarming, regularly timed  or really painful.  Logan put the already packed bags in the car since it was getting close to time for babe anyhow (one for labor and after, a bag of clothes and toilet trees for me, and a 'diaper' bag for the baby).  I was able to sleep through it, and wasn't worried because I had a 10:30 appointment with the midwife in the morning regardless.

At that appointment I told the midwife about the unusual leaking.  She decided to test for amniotic fluid.  Sure enough, that test paper turned blue.  She told me that my water had ruptured, most likely during that walk (I didn't mention the sink sneeze episode because honestly I didn't think much of it).  She didn't even want to see if I was dilated because any foreign article in the case of a ruptured bag of waters could introduce infection causing bacterias.  She sent me with a nurse over the glass bridge to the attached Indiana University Methodist Hospital to check into triage for another amniotic test to be certain.  I remember expressing my concerns to that nurse escort, telling her how badly I wanted a natural birth and was worried they would try to give me Pitocin since I clearly was not in active labor.  She gave me a really awesome piece of advice- she told me I could ask for a breast pump that the hospital rents to try nipple stimulation which will sometimes bring on labor.

Triage was full- I snagged the last bed.  Apparently rainy day barometric pressure changes bring on labor the same way a full moon does, who knew? In triage, I saw my regular midwife, whose name I will change to protect the innocent- Marrie.  She had seen me many times before and had once jokingly told me to go into labor on Thursday because she worked in the hospital rather than the office on Thursdays (it was a rotating midwife program).  It was nice that she was there, because my husband was not and my phone lost battery.  I needed a familiar face.  The additional test concluded I was indeed in labor (even though I was not having contractions at all at this point).  Marrie knew I wanted a natural labor and was planning to use the Bradley Method and a water tub for pain management.  She knew I did not want any Pitocin.  I told her I had primrose oil in my purse.  I have a feeling what happened next is in the gray area of medical hospitals- she never told me to use it per-say, she simply smiled, gave me two thumbs up, leaned over and quietly said, "Don't tell the nurses".  So I didn't.  I was admitted.  Logan finally arrived. We called my mom so she could start the 2.5 hour car ride down to Indianapolis.

Primrose oil.

At the beginning, I was very chit-chatty with the nurses.  I like to look people in the eyes when I talk to them, especially when someone is as helpful to me as a nurse (who offered me a turkey sandwich when some hospitals refuse laboring women food- I was very thankful).  I still wasn't in much pain so it was easy to smile and be personable.  I met the first midwife on delivery duty that day (1 of 3 while I was there).  She seemed nice.  Everyone kept telling me they wanted to give me Pitocin.  I held my ground and remembered what the escort nurse from the office told me, so I requested to try nipple stimulation via breast pump before drugs.  Perfect timing- upon leaving me and Logan with the pump, I slipped into the bathroom to self administer the primrose oil gel caps.  I used two, and wore gloves to be careful, because I wasn't trying to introduce any bacterias that could've been hiding on my fingernails.   Then I gave the pump a shot.  Thirty minutes later I had good strong contractions that the nurses could see from their monitors elsewhere. I remember them saying, "Wow!  Nipple stimulation really works!" Hahaha, little did they know it was actually the primrose oil. 

Things got a bit scary all of a sudden.  The nurse came to check heart rates- the babies was very slow.  I had to turn to my side, nurses were swarming me and I was wearing oxygen.  It was a terrifying moment, but A Baby Story on TLC had prepared me well for this- it's common, and luckily her heart rate returned to normal, (otherwise I would've freaked out and told them my primrose secret). It was around this time that my mom arrived, another comfort and assurance things were (sort of) going by plan. There had been a shift change, and the second midwife on delivery duty, Helen, came in to introduce herself.  I reminded her of my water birth plan, asking if it would be alright to still have a tub delivery given the slow onset of contractions and heart rate drop.  She said, and I quote, "Don't hold your breath", and proceeded to tell me that I needed Pitocin if contractions didn't dramatically increase from here on out.  Well, they did.  And it proved to be a great thing to have my mom around.

There in the background- my little pink vibrator.

Hours of pain went by, naturally getting more and more intense with each contraction.  At one point I expressed, "I think I'm going to throw up" and within that second immediately leaned over and puked on the floor, (so long turkey sandwich, thanks for coming- and to the sweet nurse who cleaned it up~ different from the one who served it to me as the shift had once again changed). Mom and Lo were great at taking turns rubbing my legs, neck and back.  Thank god my friend had given me a little hand held vibrating massage tool- I never thought I'd ask my mom to hand me my vibrator- yet here I was asking!  At one point Logan said he wanted to go and find more batteries for it as he thought it was dying and was really the only thing seriously helping with the pain.  I remember shooting him the same intense look as my mom as we both said, "Why would you say that?!"  ~Funny to me now.  It was nice they were both there and could take shifts helping coach me through the pain.  He was able to find batteries and the new ones were a relief in the end! If my mother couldn't be there I would've definitely needed a doula.

The midwives were not checking me for dilation updates as regularly as they do the mommy-to-bes on A Baby Story because of that infection risk.  When I first checked in that morning though, I was dilated to a 1.5- the same I had been for two weeks prior.  After contractions started, they checked me again and I was at a 3 around the time my mom arrived.  Hours had passed at this point- it was now dark- when they finally re-checked me.  After hours of intense contractions I was only at 3.5.  Not good!  I was in such pain. I remember telling Logan I wasn't sure about this natural birth anymore- that I may want the epidural after all, knowing I still had a looooong way to go. He was great about that.  He didn't cave at all, instead he reminded me of my goal- to get to that 6 so I could get in the tub, but no pressure.  He assured me that the water, the 'midwives epidural', was going to be the relief I needed and that I could indeed stick it out just a little while longer until I was there.

Maeby meeting her grandma.

My mom suggested we move.  While we had taken a walk around the ward earlier, I was in no condition to do it again.  She referred to the techniques we learned from a DVD on labor positions we had checked out from the library while she was visiting to help me nest prior to the big arrival.  We did some side stretches, leaning on and swaying with Logan, bed edge sitting and yoga ball exercises.  (We opted out of any and all hospital birthing classes, and missed the boat on the Bradley Method class, so the library and Netflix were our only real way of prepping- and it served us very well in the end). I remember being so uncomfortable on that yoga ball, as I'm pretty sure it was a small or medium ball, and given I'm almost 5'11 was in need a large or extra large.  I remember asking the nurse when my water was going to stop breaking- she said it didn't, that it'll continue leaking until I delivered- no book, movie or TV show ever prepared me for that!

Now my sense of time was totally skewed as I was in labor, but it didn't seem to have been more than 2 hours when the really intense stuff started.  I thought it hurt before- but wham- it was like my body was being struck by lightning and I couldn't help but to seize up and push in the process.  The new nurse warned me, "no pushing until you're fully dilated," as if I could help it.  She had a hunch: although the three hours hadn't passed that they wanted to wait between dilation checks I was at a 6- and indeed, I was- 6.5 actually, time to hold my breath (j/k)! They finally wheeled me to the tub room.  And thank the lord one was available even though the maternity ward was so busy!  I guess currently, most people opt for epidurals.

I had packed a bikini to wear in the tub with bottoms that untied to easily come off but at this point with such pain all modesty went out the window.  The tub was deep with seats and a little door, like an oversize whirlpool without jets. Instead, it had a removable jet-like water sprayer to fill the tub (which had to continuously be emptied once full to keep the temperature properly high). The tub definitely helped with the pain. A little.  I kept getting struck with lightening and Logan, with true Bradley style would say, "Relax your jaw..." I told him my jaw was not as important as other parts of my body and to stop saying that because it wasn't helping.  One of the best things he did for me while I was laboring in the tub was put on the disintegration loops  - hours of drone like music looped and slowly changed as the original tapes dissolved during their final performance.  The best laboring music I could've asked for.

How tired this new Daddy looks!

Between contractions I asked this nurse of mine what her labor was like. She said she had a natural labor for 19 hours that ended in a c-section because she pushed before it was time which resulted in too much swelling to deliver her baby vaginally.  That totally freaked me out- but gave me the strength to not push through about 3 of those lightening striking, whole body seizing contractions.  My dear mother was helping me breath and at one point grabbed my face to bring me back to earth.  It was time- the nurse knew it and the midwife was on her way.  As she was leaning over the tub in this final laboring stage, it was the first time I had actually looked this nurse in the eyes!  I felt so bad, she had been with me way longer than any of the other nurses, I was in so much pain that I stopped caring who the nurses were as they kept changing shifts.  I had been in a rough place these final few hours- as she was leaning over the tub to help me all I could say was, "You're really pretty".  According to the Bradley Method if a woman is in a jolly or comedic mood she isn't ready yet to push.  Good thing everyone knew I wasn't trying to be funny.  I felt bad!  She appreciated it at least.

Another random thing about labor at this point- I felt like I was wearing a beard.  I kept asking if I had anything on my face.  They said the blood flow increases to your face at this time and that is what I was feeling.  My legs and arms also felt really heavy.  It reminded me of the first time I was drunk.  I started to tell my mom about that instance: "Remember that time when I was 15 and went to visit my big sister at Purdue?  Well, she took me to a frat party and I had a mudslide..."  My moms response to this impromptu reminiscing of an improper situation, "Shhhhh". 

L to R: the pretty nurse, me, my amazing midwife Meridith.

When the midwife arrived she confirmed it- I was indeed ready to push. I was finally about to meet my little girl! She said I could push with the next contraction and I tell you what, I never expected pushing would feel so good.  Ring of fire or not, it was no lightening bolt. Maybe it was the water that helped it feel better, I don't know, but what a relief it was.  I had that baby out of me in 18 minutes.  She was born at 5:58 AM. After they got the umbilical cord unwrapped from her neck and placed her in my arms I started singing the only song I could think of that I had been singing while I was pregnant (while there were many, this was the one that popped into my head at that moment): the Orange is the New Black theme song, about animals being trapped and whatnot.  Not exactly a lullaby. Whatever, at least it was familiar to baby (we watched the whole first season the last month of my pregnancy).  I couldn't believe what I had just done.  It was weird to me that I wasn't balling.  I cant even watch A Baby Story without crying, how could I deliver my own little piece of perfection and not shed a tear?  Oh well, Logan did for both of us.

Surprisingly I only said one curse word the whole labor- a real feat for me according to anyone who knows me- but my mother doesn't appreciate swearing so I filtered my mouth, for the most part.  One slipped out between the pushing contractions, the nurse and midwife were talking between themselves when I suddenly tuned in.  I had requested to keep the umbilical cord attached for a couple of minutes until it stopped pulsing so baby would get all the blood possible- I read a study stating the immediate clamping and cutting of the cord to prevent hemorrhaging in the mother was recently debunked. Turns out the additional blood actually helped baby have a higher birth weight with no harmful side effects (as long as no milking-of-the-cord was done). At my very first midwife visit when I was about 27 weeks preggo, I had agreed to participate in an Indiana University teaching hospital blood block study, where after birth the students would collect blood from my placenta to study.  As an IU graduate, and someone who was born in a teaching hospital herself and provided a learning experience at my own birth (as a naturally delivered breech 8 lb baby), I signed up for the study.  The midwife was expressing to the nurse, that since I was leaving the umbilical cord attached there may not be enough blood left for the study.  That's when I tuned in and my response was, "What? Oh- f*** that study!" That's the only curse word I said. 

 After her very strong initial cries our baby- who we named Maebel Alise (Maeby A. for short), started grunting. They took her to the NICU for two hours because she's a grunter- still is. I knew deep down she was fine. That was the main reason we opted to deliver in a hospital however, to have a NICU close in case we needed it.  I wonder what they would've done if I refused to let her go. Who in their right mind would do that if their baby's at risk but in hindsight I honestly think they did that to make more money off us. And can you believe they gave me that Pitocin anyway?!  Yes, upon delivering my placenta.  When the (again new) nurse told me she was about to do it, I was so tired of refusing - and the baby was already born- I was just like, whatever.  She said they give it to everyone, only I never heard of anyone getting Pitocin to deliver a placenta.  There were no complications in the process.  Again, I think they did it to make the hospital more money- or maybe they had already designated it to me and would have to toss it if it wasn't administered, I don't know why they did it, but they did.  The after-birth nurse also forgot to tell me to wait for help before getting up for the first time after giving birth. Then she had to clean up a crime scene.

Turns out Maeby was not only sunny side up (looking up upon delivery instead of the usual down), but she was also born on an angle instead of coming straight down and out.   It made me feel pretty bad-ass about doing it naturally being that sunny side up babies result in even more than normal pain levels- especially in the back.  It made Maeby pretty funny looking with a lop-sided cone head and smooshed face for her first couple of days on earth.  Funny little scrawny chicken she was.  With a full head of hair due to all that good grass fed organic whole milk and yogurt and cheese I had been eating while pregnant with her and working on a dairy farm. She was 8.4 lbs and 22 inches at birth.

After over 15 hours of natural labor, here she is!

Talk about an adrenalin rush (maybe it was the Pitocin in that final labor stage), but if you're an adrenalin junkie and want the ultimate high, have a kid.  I couldn't sleep for the first 24 hours after she was born.  I tried.  On my belly, and it felt soo good.  The next day the (second) most sore part of my body turned out to be my jaw.  HA! Logan was right.  Close third was my neck and back. No one prepared me for the back pain that comes with having a baby.  Initially from labor then right into soreness from carrying and nursing baby. 

How tired I looked!  Alas, not tired enough for sleep!

When the lactation consultant came to see us for the very first time, she looked at me, looked at Maebel, back to me and said, "There's such a difference in the un-medicated child".  And she left.  That made me feel so good- after all, that's the main reason I did it the natural way.  Nursing was really important to me.  A hazy baby at birth doesn't have the same sharp instincts as a drugless baby.  In another post I'll write about nursing and other ways I save money in mommy-hood to allow me to stay home with baby full time.

Because the hospital was so full on that rainy night, we got to stay in the tub room suite for almost the whole  day while another postpartum room was to become available.  Maeby was born so early in the morning it was like we got to stay an extra day in the hospital to recover.  Initially, because I was worried about cost, I thought I would want to leave the hospital ASAP.  But because she was a NICU baby and we wanted to watch her closely (and because I had such a hard time sleeping after delivery), I'm really glad we were able to stay as long as we did.  In the end I did take lots of advice from and really appreciated the lactation consultant.  We were eventually moved to the smallest recovery room I have ever seen. Logan had to sleep in a reclining chair and there was barely enough room to move around between the chair, bed and bassinet.  The room was so small there wasn't even space for a computer in it.  They had to wheel one in with each nurse visit.  I was happy though, at least we had the luxury of having a private room to enjoy our celebratory mimosas at 1am because we couldn't sleep. Yes, I had packed champagne in my birthing bag.

So far the whole thing, after the American insurance institution took care of their part (I mean after they allotted the many funds we've already paid into it to the labor and hospital stay), we only had about $2,300.00 in expenses out of pocket.  I say so far because while she is now 5 months old I wouldn't be surprised if another bill suddenly appeared in our mailbox. I hate the healthcare system in this country.  Maybe I'll post about that another day too.

Thanks for reading, I hope Maeby will be interested in reading our story one day too. 

Some little details.

   

ThankYouVeryMuch Oh Mr. Roberto

Tuesday morning I found myself blaming 'the hormones'.  When I made a quick run into a Broad Ripple shop at 11AM, I peeked out the window just in time to see a meter man (unjustifiably of course), slapping my car with a fat ticket. I lost it, and started sobbing uncontrollably right there on the scene. Prior to this particular shop opening for the day I had some time to kill, so I stopped at a pharmacy for both greeting and gift cards. One greeting card I picked up was a sympathy card for a lost pet.

Once home and still very upset, I found myself reminiscing about my college life. I was advised by a grad student boss of mine that if I ever wanted to live by myself and have the freedom to keep the coffee maker in the bathroom if I so chose then I should seize the day, (especially if I thought I would get married right after college). So that's what I did.  As a junior, I snagged my own apartment and welcomed the joys of living alone- even if it was a dorm apartment to make my parents feel more comfortable with the idea.

I was lonely and often talked to myself when the apartment was too quiet.  My sister and I made a random stop to a pet store one October night and with much of her convincing, I decided to break the dorm rules and adopt the cutest sweetest fluffiest black kitty that let me hold him like a baby and rub on his belly the first time I picked him up. At 7 months old he was almost fully grown. He was already named Robbie, so I kept the name, thinking that after 7 months, he was already somewhat used to it. It must've worked because he was the smartest cat I've ever seen.

As a kitten he acted so much like a dog. He would beg for food. Get into the garbage. Tear open the package of english muffins left on the counter where he could get them. He would play fetch with one particular 'toy'- a faux hemp bracelet that I can only assume reminded him of a mouse tail. He would pounce on my feet in the early morning to get me out of bed and go to class. He did back flips for the orange toy I knitted for him and stuffed with cat nip.  In fact, cat toys were the perfect knitting project for anyone just learning to knit, after all- cat's don't care if you drop a stitch- the easier to get to the nip!  As the instructor and coordinator of our dorm's knitting circle, there was once a whole group of students knitting bright orange toys for Robbie. Many of those girls loved kitties, and missed theirs back home, so they would come to visit play with Bob-Cat (one of his many nicknames). 

Robbie the Jaguar, I mean during a yawn.

Everyone who knew about Roberto living in the dorm apartment looked the other way as he was such a cool cat. After Christmas break (and a bit of how-to research), we started the toilet training process. It was a long process, but by the time spring break rolled around, Robbie was using the toilet like a human room mate would, well not exactly- he couldn't flush. When I left on my Hawaiian spring break trip and needed a cat sitter, the dorm's dining hall president at the time agreed to watch the amazing kitty for me. There he was introduced to the great outdoors. She looked the other way in regards to the dorm regulations.

The following fall, when classes started back up, we moved a block away into an off-campus basement apartment.  It was cozy, sometimes I would let Robber roam the stairwell for exercise.  One time he managed to hop out the 2nd floor window, I found him just in time- on the little bit of roof that covered the side entrance door.  He was peering over the edge, I could tell he was thinking, "Should I jump? Can I make it down without hurting myself?  Would the pain be worth it?" I stared straight into his eyes, "Robert! Here kitty kitty, you come here right now!" To my relief, the good kitty did just that.  I didn't let him roam the stairwell anymore.

My best friend also lived alone and often the two of us would hit the bars together.  While waiting for drinks young men I would simply not be into would offer to buy me a drink. With that drink, one must at least converse a tiny bit out of gratitude, right? Often, that conversation was rather short, as they would say something along the lines of, "Is that your room mate you're here with?" My response was always the same, "No, actually I live with a big black guy named Robbie, he's pretty hard to miss, you know him?"  Something about that statement usually bought me my freedom and I was able to get back to having fun with Shannon.

Mr. Roberto and I even once visited a hotel in downtown Chicago to audition for a game show sponsored by a big name cat food company.  The show was called "Think Like a Cat", I never did see it air.  While we didn't make it on as contestants, one of the judges was a university professor of animal psychology who was thrilled to learn that Robbie liked to watch TV himself!  Rob's favorite show was Animal Planet's Meerkat Manor.  The professor was grateful I was willing to send him video of Rob watching the show so he could use it in his lector on the matter. Robbie surely did make quite the university impression to say the least.

It was at the end of that year that Rob started showing signs of a condition known as 'lip erosion'. Graduation ensued and we moved back to Crown Point.  The new vet there said it was thought to be a result of an allergic reaction to mice, or something else in his food.  We started him on better food and the lip sores would come and go. But he loved going outside, especially with Monroe, my parents cat, to show him the ropes of true living outdoors. Sometimes they would battle playfully in the backyard.

You can see Robbies tongue as he gave Hazel a kiss.

With the loss of Monroe came an addition to our family- a 3 month old weimaraner named Hazel.  Robbie had known a few dogs in his day, MJ and Sadie to name a couple, but never a puppy.  He quickly taught Hazel, a natural hunter by nature, how to behave around him.  I believe it was this early training, and that fact that Bobber still had his claws to defend himself, and resulted in Hazel being better than the average weimy with cats, knowing to keep calm and not to get too close.

 

The sores on his lips seemed to escalate, into sensitive itchy skin on his belly.  He licked it bare and eventually created sores on his skin with that sand-paper like tongue of his. At a couple of points he even needed stitches to close up the sores that turned into open wounds.  He needed to wear a cone to keep from licking at the stitches and allow himself to heal.  It was around this time in 2009 that Logan and I got married and moved to Indianapolis where we merged our little family- Robbie, Hazel, and his doberman pincher Reba.  Doberman 'kissers' (as I like to call them,) are naturally good with cats, and as Reba was a puppy at a breeder's house with cats, she and Rob got along well.

Again, sores became open wounds.  I found a new holistic and very expensive vet in Broad Ripple. They did blood work, they did dog allergy testing.  The results were negative, but they wanted to try ingredient elimination to determine if it was a food allergy. Robby was to be fed a diet of strange ingredients like duck and pea food or lamb and rice food to eliminate the common problem causing ingredients like chicken and corn.  This meant that the dogs too must eliminate those common ingredients from their diets, as they shared a water bowl and the molecules would be transferred through saliva into the water where Bob would then be exposed.  So that is what we did.

Sometimes we would go to the dog park and another patron would give the girls cookies without asking first if it was alright.  That drove me crazy because I knew I would have to keep Bobby confined to a bedroom for a few days until the molecules had passed. We would often have friends over with dogs, and they would drink from the water bowl, one of the enormous water cooler jug types that would then have to be emptied and cleaned out. The cleaning- and cleaning, if we ourselves ate corn with dinner the molecules would be all over the table, counters, etc. Washing the floors nearly everyday and febreezing the furniture constantly was a pain in the neck, and feeding two big dogs hypoallergenic food was a pain in our wallet. It just was not working.

The only photo of all three of them.

We thought it would be better for his health if Robbie went back to Crown Point to live permanently with my parents, in a house free from other animals and hopefully free of whatever he was allergic to.  Thank god my parents were willing to become Robbie's full time caretaker.  I was so sad to see him go, but at least I could visit and it was for his health. I know he was sad and missed me too, because mom said she saw him jump up on the back of a living room chair to paw at my senior portrait she has hanging there.  She said he was looking behind the frame to see if I was there.  That melted my heart.

There was a great vet there who stopped charging the $40 vet visit fee each time she took him in because he had to go so often.  They experimented with a pill that was intended for use in dogs primarily, to battle cancer, that seemed to work (even though Rob was never diagnosed with cancer).  It did work, for awhile, about four years. With the return yet again of the sores on his belly, we even experimented with laser treatment. Much of this time Robbie was in a cone.

We saw him recently on a visit North. He was skinny, mom said he would only eat if you sit there with him.  So that's what I did.  I took off his cone and gave him lots of love and brushes.  I turned on the water in the sink that he liked to watch and listed to as the basin filled up.  He was good and let the girls sniff at him and they all sat together.  He even napped in their bed. 

In the following two weeks he slept with my sister an nephew while they visited for a week.  He slept with uncle Ger while he visited  the following week too.  He got lots of love, cuddles and comfort from many. It was during those two weeks that he began to only eat out of mom's hand and then eventually not at all.

On Tuesday she took him to the vet where they found an abscess on his stomach.  Could he have known it was there all along?  Could that have been why he was licking there?  All these years we, along with multiple vets, thought it was severe allergies.  If only there was a signal to an internal stomach problem that would have warranted x-rays. We did everything we could do. Robbie was laid to rest on Tuesday.  Mom told me about it Wednesday morning.

Turns out it wasn't 'the hormones' or even the parking ticket that had me sobbing and thinking thoughts of Robbie Bobby Bumper Boy (my dad's favorite nickname). It was him.  It was his signals to the universe, his soul reaching out to me to say goodbye.  Robbie, I love you so much, you will be missed by many and will forever be in our hearts.  I hope you're able to have comfort now, and not itch all the time, loose the cone and enjoy your fluff to its fullest and finest potential.  I hope you have kitty company with Monroe and Poster, although you never met poster you would've loved him.  I'm glad you did get to share your life with us, while not as long as some other cats lives, I hope we were able to make the days you did spend on this earth enjoyable.  I know you created joy in so many of my days. May you rest in peace good friend, and enjoy some chicken and corn.

The Big Gender Reveal

Finally we decided it was time to share the sex of the baby with our friends.  Long awaited it was by many, others knew because we're simply bad keepers of secrets.  What can I say? Slip ups happen... 

Along with the invitation, we included a little poem that read: 

We're having a baby,

Little dude or lovely lady, 

There'll be a keg so come thirsty, 

And bring along diapers cuz babies are dirty!

Thanks you to everyone who brought diapers!  We were able to start a nice little stock pile that will definitely get us through the beginning stages of size 3. The keg was a big hit, as it was a Sunday night and you can't buy booze on Sundays in Indiana (which means we got to pick it up on Saturday).  The Sunday night was a good night for yours truly to throw a party, since I've been tired earlier and earlier these days, folks didn't want to stay until wee hours of the morning with a Monday work day looming.  The only thing I would've changed is that it was May 5th- Cinco de Mayo.  A few of our friends had committed to cinco parties and couldn't make it because of the party competition! Alas, we had a good turn out of about 20 give or take.

The dessert spread. MMM, sweets!

There were lots of clever ideas regarding how we should make the big announcement: we could have a wrapped box of balloons the color of the gender, opening the box as a present with the balloons releasing up into the sky (not very environmentally friendly); we could cut into a cake and have the color of the cake indicate boy or girl; OR we could feature a HUGE cake, and have a male stripper pop out for a girl or a female stripper pop out for a boy... We decided to try to keep things tasteful and went with a big gender neutral orange balloon with confetti inside.  We popped the balloon and the color of the confetti indicated the gender of the baby.

Chalk art by Mrs. Lindsey, who also helped with those darling invites!  Thanks Linds!

Blue and pink soda, along with peanut brittle in doilly cones. The tulip is from our 4 year old nephew, Kellen.

Squirrel shaped sugar cookies- I made the cookie cutter myself! For the late comers, the flecks in the cupcakes were gender significant since they missed the balloon poppin fun'.

Me at the end of the night with a basket ball under my dress.

 No worries for any out-of-towners that couldn't make it to the party- we're going to do another gender reveal at the baby shower up north in early June.  Because I'd like a big family, I'm trying to keep most items on our registry gender neutral. 

MINT: Don't wash the floors on a rainy day, even before company comes over.

Fairwell Good Friend

This past Friday a gray pickup came barreling down our side-street. The driver hit my cat, a people and pup loving short hair domestic orange tabby by the name of Poster. The person never stopped.

Immediately after I received a phone call from our next door neighbor who witnessed the whole thing.  She rushed him to the Vet ER where I met them within 20 minutes.  He was a lucky kitty, still being so sweet- loving on the happy nose and my presence. The Dr. diagnosed him with a fractured pelvis- explaining why he couldn't use his hind legs.  The x-rays cleared our minds of any worry of fluid in the lungs or internal bleeding. His treatment included injected fluids, antibiotics, and a time released pain med that would last for 72 hours.  My instructions were to leave him crated for the next 6 weeks.  Plenty of water and a bit of food, some anti inflammatory pills and a restricted environment free of any temptations to jump up or down.

I slept on the living room floor that first night right next his crate, soothing him when he moved and meowed in pain. The next morning I moved him to a slightly larger crate, cuddling him on my lap while in transition. Man, am I glad we did that.  The second night we moved his crate next to our bed so I would be by his side again.  He started purring before we hit the sack and drank a lot of water. I checked on him three more time throughout the night and early morning. 

I awoke to find him struggling for air.  I used my pinky to clear his airway and when he stopped breathing I did chest compressions. We did everything we could for him. Poster was a great cat and said goodbye to us right there on our bedroom floor.  We're going to miss him. He was everyone's friend, even the dogs. He appreciated the warm house and good meals. His favorite food was lamb bacon, sneaky kitty.

They say bad things happen in threes. I think I may have to believe them: with Logan's unexpected flat tire and dented rim to kick things off, followed by my stolen iphone, (which by the way, had all our best Poster photos on there), and finally Poster's death.  The strangest thing about my karma though is that I've gotten four thank-you cards this week alone.  Thank-yous poured in from friends, neighbors, and organizations that I've gifted to, helped out, or volunteered for recently.

I really had to struggle to come up with a mint today. MINT:  I have some damn great karma coming my way. I think I'm going to buy a scratch off on my way home tonight. Everyone please manifest or envision my big win, thanks.

Cucumber Water Revamp

After a few years of thinking interesting thoughts, then concluding, 'That would make a great blog post,' I've decided to revamp Cucumber Water.  While the concept will still most certainly apply- refreshing realizations- I want to get  back to it all around.  Things are always more fun when you're not required to do them.

Often I thought of creating a gardening themed blog. I intend to garden blog right on here rather than creating anew.  I kept starting multiple 'themed' blogs that ended up having only a few posts rather than a solid, all encompassing one. The fact is, my blog is about my life, which includes a lot of gardening, plenty of cooking & cleaning, some dog training, traveling, home brewing, remodeling, real-estate, and soon: parenting. Pregnancy has been consuming me lately.

Trimester one is just about over!  It has been, well, tough. I've been sick, really sick for awhile (ginger helped, but peppermint worked).  I have been reading more books cover to cover than I have in a long time.  Yesterday was the first day I woke up before 9 and didn't loose my biscuits in months. I'm finally feeling better, things are looking up, and I'm happily starting to get a bit rounder.

Husband Logan didn't believe it when I showed him that first faint positive line.  After waiting and taking another, and another, the lines slowly got darker and darker.  A friend picked up a digital test for me to take at another friend's house to surprise her with the good news.  With that, I was able to bring him that clear "positive" test to drive the point home to husband.  We wasted no time in telling our closest friends.  Family was another matter.  They live further away.

For his mama's birthday, we surprised my MIL with a gift of good news.  Her reaction to becoming a grams for the first time was priceless.  We celebrated with a big dinner at our favorite italian joint: Iria's Italian Restaurant.  They loved joking about what we would name the baby- the favorite name of the night: Enis.  

I will NOT be naming my baby Enis.

My ma and pop were expecting the news.  My big sister saw my sick face and knew right away.  At Christmas, we were late and walked in as the whole big extended maternal side of my family had just sat down for dinner and were attentively looking at my uncle to make a speech.  The door swung open and all eyes were suddenly on me, "I'm sorry we're late everyone, but we had to visit my parents before we came here today- to tell them we're expecting so we could tell all of you"! A big hoot & holler with applause and my uncle insisted there was no way he could follow that news with even the best of speeches.  I knew I had to tell them right away because they would guess the surprise the second I turned down a glass of wine!

I really tried to improve my tardiness last new year's, I did better for awhile.  MINT: I learned that Christmas something great- with baby comes an awesome excuse to be late.

Set Backs and Hydrogen Tanks

When we put our offer in on the short-sale house, we knew it could take a long time for the bank to approve our offer (even though our offer was for the asking price in full), so we took some extra precautions. We wrote into the contract that if April 17th comes and we still had not heard acceptance from the bank, then the contract could be void (unless otherwise extended by us). Needless to say, April 17th came and went, with no word from the bank. We terminated the contract.

Not only could we not take the waiting any longer, we really want a place of our own around the time of the wedding (June 10th... 43 days)! So we started the hunt again. Just as discouragement was about to set in after raising our budget and still not finding what we wanted, we found something.

A two bedroom one bath (quite the difference compaired to the 5 bed 3 bath short-sale) with a partially finished basement, covered porch and big backyard (1/3 an acre in the city)! There's even a doggie door for the girls, and Rob too if he wants to go outside, which he will. The location, which was our favorite part about the short sale, is just as good, even better! This new property is right across the street from the Monon paved trail and actually only two blocks from the short-sale. Still within walking distance from Broadripple Ave.

The timing was great. Had we not offered and waited on the short-sale to fall through, I bet we would've gotten discouraged and either a) settled for something we didnt really love or b) stretched our budget to a stressful point. All that waiting allowed this home to come onto the market (just listed April 6th)! They say everything happens for a reason, right?!

You can tell that the sellers love the property by how well it has been taken care of. They remodeled every room, and did a great job on the kitchen and the bath. They had plans of finishing the basement and putting up a garage when they got sidetracked with a bouncing baby boy. Then came another- but without the space to put him or her, they decided to move. This means we have the opportunity to earn some equity by finishing the basement with an extra bath and bed, and by putting up that garage. Also far less stress as we don't have to worry about things that have to be done, only things we want to do (unlike the short-sale).

One last thing- it's 6k less than the short sale, and there's a seller to cover the closing costs. We sent our paperwork in today and accepted their counter offer. Looks like we'll be moving mid June.

MINT: Everything happens for a reason!

Who is That Girl?

Do you instantly know who I'm referring to? Just to our right of that man? The one with the sass, with her hand on her hip. She is an inspiration, she is a smile in a sea of frowns, she is what I strive to imitate!

This photo was taken during the depression, about 30 minutes from where I live. Everyone is waiting in line at a soup kitchen.

I think I want to make her the 2009 cucumberwater mascot! But, she will need a name- and I'm open for suggestions! (Unless of course, you happen to know who this girl really is, which in that case, she will go by her real name). Hazel is already taken.

MINT: There is always a bright side!