Thursday, October 30, 2008

Bad Mom Award

As I casually mentioned before, here is the story of my first Bad Mom Award...yeah, the one where I got Children's Protective Services (CPS) called on me during my son's first couple weeks of life.

I am not much of a believer in "well baby" doctor visits. I think it is just a ploy for the doctors to get more money. Nonetheless, I did take my little guy into the the doctor when he was about a week old. (Actually, he was 6 days old when I took him into the office.) I hadn't picked out a pediatrician yet, and I thought it would be better to just pick a family doctor, so the whole family could go to the same doc, if we needed it. So, I just picked a family practice that was relatively close.

I sat in the office and nursed Bug while I was waiting for the doctor to come. She finally arrived, and started checking out my little man. After doing some checking, she asked me, "Do you think your son looks yellow?" I was thinking to myself, through all my postpartum hormonal thoughts, why would she ask ME, if SHE is the doctor!!?! I responded as honestly as I could, "Well, just a little. But I'm around him all the time, so not really. Other people have said he does look a little bit jaundiced." "WELL [said with an I'm-smart-you're-dumb attitude], he is!" She then proceeded to tell me I needed to get his bilirubin levels checked -immediately-! I wasn't too concerned, and I was already going in to take a school final that day (which was a big mistake in in itself), but I told the doctor I would do it, before she totally lost her head. Seriously, she was already formulating a treatment plan!

So, I endured the heel prick and crying of my poor baby boy. I was told that the lab would contact me and the doctor's office within the next 24 hours. The day went by, with a missed call from the doctor, I never got around to calling her back. The next day I get a call from the doctor, again, asking what was going on with the tests. I told her I had no idea. She then lectured to me about how important this was, and how jaundice can cause brain damage. (I later found out that she also called my "emergency number" at my parent's house, because she couldn't get a hold of me on the first try). So I called the lab, and they gave me Bug's bili levels. There were at 12.9-which isn't high enough yet for treatment. I called the doctor to let her know, but she was still wigging out and demanded that I make another appointment with her to get an order for another heel prick for Bug. I was NOT enthused about that idea, and I told her I didn't think it was necessary. She continued to tell me how serious this was, and how important it was, and how dangerous it was. She kept throwing out the brain damage card. I told her I would call later to reschedule an appointment. I didn't.

In the meantime, I did call a pediatrician's office. I asked the nurse about jaundice and bili levels. She said the ped would probably order another test to make sure the levels were going down, but as long as the baby is eating well, pooping regularly, and not lethargic, everything was most likely fine. Well, check, definitely check, and absolutely check all three of those tests. I was confident that Bug would recover from his jaundice in no time, and with no complications.

The next day, the doctor calls me. "Mama, you were supposed to bring Bug in so I could order another test for his jaundice." I was really nervous, because I HATE talking on the, I knew I was about to fire this doctor for being an incompetent spaz that loved to harass new mothers. I sucked it up, and tried to keep my voice steady as I told her that I thought she was wrong and unprofessional, that I had contacted another doctor, I would no longer be seeing her, and that she should expect contact soon to transfer Bug's records. She asked me what doctor I was going to take him to (which I later found out is against HIPAA laws for her to ask that. Luckily, I told her that I would not disclose that information!) After a long pause, she said, "Well, I'm just afraid that your son has brain damage." [emphasis added]. EXCUSE ME!?!?! HAS?!?!? Absolutely nothing warrants that! No doctor is going to tell me, without any evidence, that my son HAS brain damage. I sternly told her that I did NOT agree, and then I hung up.

A day or so later, CPS knocks on my door and handed me my Bad Mom Award. Thank you, thank you! I'd like to thank my jaundiced son, and most importantly, my idiot doctor! I couldn't have done it without you!

And the update: Apparently CPS realized that the "concern" was bogus, because I haven't had any trouble with them since. Although, I will remain on record with them for 3 years. Such is life. I did go to the new pediatrician. He is great. Bug hasn't been back since he was just over a month old though, because he is healthy as can be. His jaundice cleared up quickly. And guess what, they haven't called me to tell me that they think my son has brain damage!

[If any readers in my area are interested to know who the idiot doctor is, so they can avoid her, her name is Dr. Cynthia Villacis, with Goshen Family Practice.]

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Declawing the Monster

I'm not quite sure what it is about babies that makes them grow like they do. It is simply amazing! And it applies to every bit of their sweet, little bodies. For example, Bug has one little hair that hasn't rubbed off yet that is about 3 inches long. I can't bring myself to cut it though, because it makes me giggle. But the really amazing thing is the speed at which Bug's nails grow. Whenever I get a little scratch from him I wonder to myself, "Didn't I just cut those suckers an hour ago!?!?" OK, well, maybe they don't grow THAT fast. But, I'm still amazed! I do cut them at least once a week. And, Bug is in the stage where he likes to grab faces...particularly mine; so, it is very important to have those little claws trimmed. I really don't get out much, which is probably a good thing. I'm not sure if people would believe me if I told them I was attacked by a mountain lion ("Yeah, they always go straight for the face.")

Our nail clipping routine goes something like this:
Mommy gets baby nail clippers and a paper towel (to put all the clippings onto). Mommy gets baby, makes him laugh, lays him on the floor...this makes him cry. Mommy grabs a toy to make baby laugh again. While baby is distracted with toy, Mommy grabs Baby's hand (the one that doesn't have the toy). Mommy clips one nail, halfway, before Baby notices that something more interesting is going on here than the "distractor" toy. Mommy hands Baby the toy again. Mommy frantically cuts the other half of the first nail, and then clips three more nails. Mommy receives three nail clippings to the eye. Baby then tries to roll over. Mommy rolls Baby back over, and hands baby a different toy, hoping to interest Baby longer. Mommy finishes first hand, and does a little victory dance, while Baby is rolling over. Mommy rolls Baby back over, hands Baby a new toy, and starts on the second hand. Baby will have nothing to do with the toy, or getting his nails clipped. Mommy sits Baby up in her lap to try clipping in a different position. Mommy might as well be trying to clip Baby's nails while standing on her head. Mommy tries four different positions, and goes back to Baby laying on the floor. Mommy hands baby toy. Mommy frantically cuts five nails. Mommy receives five nail clippings to the eye. Mommy moves to feet. Baby decides to kick up a storm. Mommy gets a kick in the gut. Baby rolls over. Mommy rolls Baby back over, and grabs one foot. Mommy successfully cuts all but the big toe. Baby rolls over. Mommy tries to cut nails while Baby is laying on his tummy. She is successful again, even amid the stream of kicks. Mommy receives a nail clipping to the eye. Baby rolls over. Mommy clips the last nail and Baby lays completely still. Mommy picks up the paper towel. It has one and a half nail clippings on it. Mommy doesn't really care, because Baby's nails are finally clipped. And she was planning on vacuuming next month anyway.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Grooming Mom

Being a mom sometimes means that I don't get a shower. Of course, the bathroom is no longer that sacred place it once was anyway! (One look at the baby swing that sits in front of the perpetually open door will tell you that!) I don't spend nearly the same amount of time taking care of myself as I used to. In fact, I can't exactly recall the last time I had three checks for hair, make-up and a nice outfit. It generally doesn't bother me. After all, my dear husband already loves me, so I don't need to dress up and look fancy, right? And really, the only other person that sees me during the day is the kid that loves me no matter what (at least for now!)

Showering used to take me 10 minutes. No less. No more. Now, I bet you I could pull of a 2 minute shower. Especially since I have decided to go the way of No-'Poo. I know, that sounds horrible. It really means not using shampoo. Most people use baking soda and vinegar. I don't have time for that. I just use water. Honestly, it lasted a week before I had to wash my hair. But, I am trying again. Maybe this time I will just cut down on the washes until I can eliminate them completely. I never was good at the cold turkey method...I tried that with sweets once for a couple of months, and then I had a total breakdown and binged! (Yeah, that was during a New Year party, and my mom and I kept saying "We can eat sweets until midnight"...after midnight, it was "We can eat sweets until 1am". You see where this is going.)

And as more children come along, I am sure that I will be shaving the seconds off of my shower time! Speaking of shaving, I don't have time for that anymore either! It's a serious wonder that I don't look like this. I did send my hubby to get a home waxing kit. For me, not the car. We had a little fun with that, until I decided it just isn't worth it. After ripping all most of the hair out of my legs, I looked like I had some form of the pocks. Plus, I didn't even get it all, so I would have to shave anyway...if I cared enough or had the time! Right now, my legs are covered in sporadic patches of 1/4" long hairs. Sick. I know. Although, I am looking forward to seeing how well waxing will work with my armpits. But, the box says that I can't use deodorant for 24 hours after waxing the pits, and with my lack of showering...well...I'm not even sure that's an option.

All in all, I'm pretty much a frumpy mess of a mom. But, you know what? I love my job, so it's ok.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Along Came Bug

I have finally put together the birth story for Bug! Please enjoy it.

I was planning on having an unassisted childbirth (UC). But, to stay on the safe side, I continued having my prenatal appointments with an OB. I never did tell the doctors in the practice that I wasn’t planning on having my baby at their hospital. I was afraid they would refuse to see me, and I wasn’t prepared for an Unassisted Pregnancy (UP). But my heart yearned for a peaceful birth. I believe it is possible to have a good birth in a hospital, but not a peaceful birth. I believe a peaceful birth can only happen at home.

On Wednesday, April 30th, I had a regular, routine prenatal checkup at 2:30pm. My hubby decided he wanted to go with me to this one (maybe because I had been having prodromal labor for a week already!) Although the only other appointments my husband went to were my first appointment and the ultrasound we had done at my 20 week mark (IT’S A BOY!). I did all the basics for the appointment. You know, pee in a cup, stand on the scale (Are you serious!?! 40lbs!!!), strip from the waist down and put that nice little piece of paper over your lap. The doctor said I was about 2cm dilated. I seriously thought it was more than that with all the contractions I had been having for the past week, but I guess that was just wishful thinking! Then the Doc checked my little baby’s heart rate. We heard some irregularities, like a little, extra beat every now and then. Of course, Doc wanted to do a Non-Stress Test. So, they hooked me up to an external fetal heart monitor and contraction monitor. It wasn’t too bad, because I got to sit in a recliner. But I don’t know why they call it a “Non-Stress Test”, because I’m obviously stressing over what is wrong with my baby! The nurse that hooked me up told me to keep an eye on the machine’s light. It was supposed to stay green. It just wasn’t cooperating. Apparently, the monitor wasn't picking up the baby's heart rate well enough, so the Doc wanted me to go over to the hospital for an ultrasound....STAT. So, off we went (and I was so glad hubby had decided to come with me to that appointment!)

We got to the hospital and found where we were supposed to go. Of course, I wasn’t allowed to wear my own clothes. And I had to sit still again for another Non-Stress Test. By this time, I was feeling pretty hungry, because I hadn’t eaten since my lunch at noon. But, then I was transported to have the ultrasound done. Yes,, in a wheel chair. There is nothing like a hospital for losing your dignity. The only thing I could do to keep from crying was giggle the whole way. We finally get to the ultrasound room, which is NOWHERE near the OB floor, and I get that goop spread all over my big, pregnant belly. It was nice to see the baby again. He looked so wonderful. He moved a lot, but his heart was still beating to a different tune. The poor little guy didn't score all the points he was supposed to for the "test" they were doing. Basically, because of the score of the baby on all the tests, and with how far along I was, it was medically advised that we go ahead and deliver. This wasn't what we wanted, because it meant having the Doc break my water, having an internal fetal monitor, and having the baby in the hospital. It was a long way away from the homebirth I had been planning. But I didn't feel comfortable leaving and not knowing if the baby was ok. So, we talked and prayed about it. I cried. The on-call OB was very nice. She let us take our time as we thought this through. Finally, we decided we were going to be having this baby!

I was able to get a Priesthood blessing (thanks to hubby, dad, and father-in-law). Lots of family, both mine and hubby’s, came to visit us. We spent some time talking. Finally, I felt prepared enough to begin this journey. We called the doctor in and she broke my water. That was nothing like I had imagined it would be...there is a lot of liquid in there!!! The doctor also hooked up an internal fetal monitor. So it began. It was around 9pm, and now I really felt like I was starving. This is the time that I say I started labor...but my mom says it doesn't count until it starts to hurt...which means I really started labor around 11:30pm. But, in the meantime, my family came back in to talk with me for a while longer. My mom always has me laughing, and that was especially fun now that the membranes were ruptured! Every time I laughed it felt like I was peeing my pants!

Soon everyone left, except hubby, my mom, and my two younger sisters. The contractions were starting to get really rough; this must have been 11:30pm, according to my mom!! And according to mom, I was really in labor. I vocalized with moaning through my contractions. It probably sounded like I was dying. But my younger sister was there rubbing my back and being the best labor support ever! Hubby was great too, but I think it was a pretty emotional time for him! I did a really bad job at keeping track of the time. Not that I should have been, I was kind of busy! But, I was impatient. I thought I was in transition one time, only to find I was only 6cm. So, I stuck to laboring away. Finally, I knew I HAD to be in transition! It was so intense, and I almost couldn’t keep from pushing. There were several times that I wasn't sure if I would be able to make it through. That feeling started through the last ten contractions before I was fully dilated. Those were the absolute worst!

Finally, I was 10cm! Hallelujah! Of course, then they told me to hold off pushing if I could, because they wanted to make sure the neonatologist was there to check out the baby once he was born. Honestly, I still pushed anyway, just not as much as I could have. At last, they told me I was able to really start pushing. Let me tell you, it felt DIVINE to push! Even with the stretching feeling, it was wonderful relief to push with the contractions. Typical in a hospital, they put me in stirrups, lying mostly on my back. I wish I could have moved around, but I was hooked up to the monitor. And I wished I could have protested the supine position and stirrups, but I was in a complete labor funk...I don’t think I could have formed the thought, let alone the complaint! So, I pushed as well as I could. And if I was vocalizing through my prior contractions, I was really making noise now! I relied on a nice, loud roars to push my kiddo out! I was starving and ice chips just wouldn’t cut it for me. I could feel my muscles exhausting, and I knew I had nothing to give them. The only thing that kept me going was the desire to have and to hold my new baby. At one point, the baby’s heartbeat dropped low, and I was threatened with an episiotomy if I couldn’t push him out faster. I can’t remember what happened, but I never got the episiotomy (thank goodness!) and I was still pushing for quite a bit longer after the threat! Things kept picking up, and after an hour of pushing (during the whole time my dear husband kept letting me know that I was "almost" there) I gave birth to our little baby at 5:23am. Once the head and shoulders were out, my husband was allowed to catch him and move him up to my chest. I could have cried right there, with that sweet baby, covered in vernix, lying on my chest. I stroked his little foot and cooed “my baby”. The cord was clamped and cut before I wanted, because they had to evaluate the baby and check out his heart. Bug had to get an EKG done to check his heart out, and they said they only picked up a couple of irregular beats, but it evened out and he is just fine. I was glad that the baby wasn’t gone long though, before he was back in my arms. I had three small tears, two of which were stitched. I pulled through all natural in the end (which qualifies me as a super hero!) It was a good birth, but not a peaceful one.

We changed his name from what we had previously picked out, which came as a shock to a lot of people! He weighed 6lbs 13oz and was 20 1/4 inches long. He is absolutely adorable, and we love him!

Monday, October 6, 2008


I have recently started spending some time on Diaper Swappers. It is a website that lets you talk about, sell, buy diapers...and much much more. It is my natural parenting haven! I get addicted to the forums! But, I have learned so much! Anyone who spends enough time on forums will become acquainted with the acronyms used. I decided to ask my hubby to tell me what HE thinks the acronyms mean. This is what I got...

AP-Attachment Parenting
CD-Cloth Diapering
CS-Co Sleeping
BF-Breast Feeding
BW-Baby Wearing
DH-Dear Husband
DS-Dear Son
DC-Dear Child
PF-PreFold Diaper
LO-Loved/Little One
EBF-Exclusively Breastfed/Extended BF
CLW-Child Led Weaning
SAHM-Stay At Home Mom
AP-Advanced Placement
CD-Compact Disk
BF-Brain Fart
BW-Brain Wave
DH-Dog House
EBF-TV station?
CLW-Computer Learning Workshop
SAHM-Stupid Acronyms Have Meanings
He is so patient with me! And I love him!