Marbles Rolling

May 31, 2011

Merritt's Birth Announcement

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I love the mix of textures, and color photos with black and white. It seems that I can never go wrong with Tiny Prints. Do you have a favorite online stationary store?

May 27, 2011

The other night as I put away our dinner's leftovers, Andy yelled down to me as he carried Roscoe from the tub into his room to get ready for bed, "If I ever die, I carry Roscoe in his towel like a sling, and call him a baby elephant or a baby whale."

I paused. "Um, okay?"

He responded, "Well, I just want you to know in case something ever happens to me. He really likes it."

Silence.

I thought for a minute, and then blurted out, "If I ever die, I want you to get remarried."

Long pause. "Hold on one second." Andy appeared at the foot of the stairs holding Roscoe in his arms. "What are you talking about? Why?"

"I wouldn't want the boys to grow up without a mother. I would want you to get remarried." He furrowed his brow, gave me a quick kiss, and said we'd talk later, then ascended the stairs and disappeared into the hallway leading to Roscoe's dimly lit room.

A few weeks ago I found a lump in my right breast. It was palpable and a little tender. The tenderness was familiar and I was worried because that meant it had been around for a while. Maybe even as early as those first days in the NICU with Merritt. On the upside, I thought it might be breastfeeding related.

I made an appointment for a few days later, and the nurse practitioner was confident that it was a plugged milk duct. So confident that I almost brushed off the suggested followup of an ultrasound, in part because of the inconvenience of Andy having to take off work since they don't allow kids at appointments.

But then I thought about my boys, and scheduled the ultrasound so that we could know for sure and move forward without any doubts.

Yesterday morning the four of us trooped to the Radiologist's and when my name was called I left Andy and the kids behind, anxious to confirm that this lump was nothing at all to be concerned about.

When she was finished, the tech said she'd be back in a second, the doctor needed to review the images. I remained on my back staring up at five large stickers of different colored cartoon cats and dogs stuck to the ceiling. With no clock in the room I gauged time by the number of pop songs that came through on the radio. About 5 1/2 of them. It had been too long, and I stuck my head out the door to see if I could flag anyone down.

My eyes locked with the patient waiting across from me. We exchanged sympathetic glances and I ducked back into my room to flip through magazines.

My mind wandered to Merritt who would undoubtedly need to nurse soon, and Roscoe who's lunchtime was also quickly approaching. I wished I had brought my cell phone to check in with Andy who was probably wondering what had happened to me.

Just then, a doctor entered the room with my tech following closely behind him. Uh oh.

He took a look for himself and then explained that the lump is structural and located outside of ducts. They can't rule out malignancy with ultrasound, so a biopsy was recommended. There are risks associated with biopsy in lactating women, the worst of which (in my opinion) is a post op requirement to refrain from nursing for 2 or 3 days afterward. Obviously, this would impact my supply. I had a lot of questions, and the doctor answered each of them, but I got the impression that he doesn't often deal with these issues in the context of breastfeeding. So I'm not taking his word as final. Another option is to wait six months and see if and how the mass progresses.

Given what might be at stake I don't feel comfortable with the wait and see approach.

Yesterday afternoon my records were faxed to Georgetown Hospital's breast surgeons who will review my films and provide a second opinion on how best to move forward.

Has anyone else had a core biopsy while nursing? Were you able to work around the post-op protocol to maintain your nursing relationship?

May 26, 2011

Look how our garden grows!

The excitement of our garden faded a little bit once the initial planting was complete. Roscoe and I water the garden every morning, but it has been raining so much that even that activity has waned.

Watching the garden grow every day had us believing that very little was happening. Our uncertainty translated to lots of declarations of, "Well, this is just an experiment, anyway."

Then I took a picture and discovered that our garden HAS grown, and when we checked the calendar and realized that it has been only 2 1/2 weeks since we initially planted it, we couldn't believe by how much. We also couldn't believe how skewed our sense of time has become!

May 25, 2011

Roscoe's Bugs

For his birthday, Roscoe received a butterfly house. The caterpillars arrived a few days ago and were quickly named Chloe (shared by our dog), Merritt, Bug, Butterfly, and Roscoe.

Roscoe is quite excited about his caterpillars and since he loves to watch video of himself and has started to demand it, this video is about Roscoe and his caterpillars. The first part is the most entertaining but without my computer I didn't edit out the rest.

May 23, 2011

Back it up

The hard drive in my Mac crashed two nights ago. My computer had been acting a little weird the day before, refusing to connect to the Internet and performing incredibly slow. I was annoyed but blamed our router and assumed that everything would be fine by the next time I sat down to check my email.

Wrong. The computer was so unresponsive that I powered it down thinking it needed a total reboot, but when it restarted a broken folder with a question mark flashed and the more we read the quicker we realized that the hard drive was gone.

We've lost all of our photos: our wedding, Roscoe's entire childhood, the last three months since Merritt was born. Every digital photo that we've ever taken, they were all stored on my computer. Not to mention ALL of our music files, my work documents, and more.

How could we have overlooked such a simple step as backing up our files? It's absolutely crazy.

Our only hope is to send the hard drive to a data recovery specialist in order to have the files extracted. The cost ranges from 600 to several thousand dollars. Worth it, but still an unforeseen cost. And there are no guarantees.

Has anyone ever gone through this? Did you have a happy ending?

May 20, 2011

Saturated

I was thinking the other day about when I might be ready to get pregnant again--I know, it's so early still, but just to daydream a little about timing and seasons. It felt a little rushed last time, gearing up to get pregnant again when Roscoe wasn't even a year old yet. The burden of carrying another baby so soon after giving birth to my first was evident early on in the pregnancy and overall felt a lot more demanding.

Since Merritt's birth I've been aching to experience birth at home. Aching. It is a nagging feeling, like something I need to do again in order to know that I am still capable of it. Within hours after Roscoe's birth I also gushed about wanting to do it [give birth] again, but for different reasons.

Now, with two little souls to oversee, I have struggles that make a third seem all but absurd.

When Andy is home he does a majority of the physical parenting of Roscoe, which relieves me in many ways, but Merritt is solely my responsibility day and night. Met cries when he's held by anyone else, and will not under any circumstance sleep independently. He sleeps in the sling, and if he's not sleeping he's nursing. If there happens to be a 10 or 15 minute lull during the day when he is awake and content to hang out by himself I take the opportunity to do something with Roscoe, or for myself, which leaves me feeling guilty about lack of stimulation--I rarely pull out any toys, or books for him. Tummy time? Nope. I do feel that probably one of the most important things for Merritt right now is to be held, but I remember the kinds of activities that Roscoe and I did together at three months and hope that Merritt isn't missing out on something important or necessary. And then I remember Met's gestational age of 6 weeks and I throw up my hands. I don't know what he needs right now.

My only chance for relief is the two hours between Roscoe's bedtime and our bedtime, and typically Merritt decides to eat during that time. My nights are spent lying on my side with Merritt latched or close to it, and in the mornings I am so stiff that it hurts to get out of bed. For the past 5 or 6 days I have not been free from Merritt for more than a few minutes at a time. Yesterday afternoon I just felt angry, and claustrophobic that the ring sling had been wrapped around my body for almost 9 hours, less a few nursing sessions mixed in.

Then there's Roscoe who seems to have rolled right into the terrible twos as his birthday approached. I feel guilty that I can't provide him with the attention that he deserves because my arms and my body are otherwise occupied with his little brother. My patience is a lot thinner these days too. Roscoe's persistent demands and limit-testing ways challenge me every day to be a better mother, and require constant adaption to keep up with him.

The rules that governed my life before kids, or that have worked for me in the past, don't necessarily apply to parenting or the general chaos of being a parent. I thought that the trauma of first parenthood had facilitated my ability to adapt my expectations to meet the constant state of change that children bring, and to accept that I cannot control everything all of the time. I guess I'm still learning and have room to grow in this area because lately I've felt more like I've been surrendering, not accepting, which leaves me feeling resentful.

Maybe the expectations I have for myself are set too high--I have a habit of this in other areas of my life. Parenting with love, and respect, and intention, came naturally with one child but doesn't come as easily with two. I know there is no such thing as a perfect parent. I recently read an important quote that I've been reflecting on all week:

It's not that you're not going to blow it, it's what you do with it afterwards.

Once I think I have a handle on two, maybe then I'll know it's time for number three. Right now I'm pretty sure that my hands are full.