my heart… continued…
*UPDATED TUES. 2:44 PM*
i have been in touch with billy quite a few times today regarding the twins and have an update posted for you on their blog. billy is literally writing from his phone, and is so dedicated to keeping everyone as updated as possible, especially with regards to micah being in isolation. there will be more updates to come and reveal as the day goes on… your comments and well wishes left below and on their blog are so appreciated and welcomed. please stay positive and stay tuned…
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i had a different post ready for today… one that consisted of laughter in the hopes of making a friend smile (you know who you are.) instead i write with tears in my eyes and shaking hands for our dearest of friends, jackson’s godparents.
most of you know from my post a few days ago, that was continuously updated throughout that day, billy and rachel’s babies have not had an easy transition into this world since being born just 5 days ago.
while precious micah and malorie have battled, they are now continuing to fight relentlessly, as are their parents… (the following comes from billy and rachel’s blog, written last night…)
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“Tonight we learned that our five day old son Micah has come into secondary contact with a serious strain of the influenza virus. He is in quarantine in the NICU, and will have to remain there for at least the next ten days. Anytime we want to see him, we have to put on a surgical gown, mask and gloves. He is allowed no skin contact with anyone during his time in quarantine, and what’s worse is that once we have been in Micah’s room, we are no longer allowed to go see his sister, Malorie, for the rest of the day.
I want to stress to all of our families and friends that Micah is not sick. However, a health care professional treated his roommate, and then went home sick. Today, that health care professional came down with a Type A flu, and is now being tested to see if it is the H1N1 or any other strain of Type A flu. The hospital administrator who spoke with us told us that if Micah is going to get sick, he will likely do so in the next 3-5 days.
Obviously this news is devastating to us. Our child is not ill, and we thank God with all our hearts for that. However, we are now faced with several days of fear, anxiety and tension. Every time he sneezes or burps up some milk we will wonder if it is the first signs. We have been praying for him to keep his body temp up. Now we will pray he does not run a fever. We can not touch him, stroke his face, hug him or kiss him goodnight without a barrier. For at least the next ten days, every time he reaches out to grab my finger, all he will feel is latex. And then, we are left to wonder if we are putting his sister at risk just by being near him.
If that news weren’t hard enough, Malorie was unable to maintain her body temp, and has gone back onto the warming bed. This time, it will be for at least a few days. She was not taking full meals and began to fight against the bottle. When it came time to weigh her, she had dropped too much of her precious little weight, and so she was given an NG tube. After several failed attempts to place the tube, the nurse concluded that the smallest tube available was still just too large to make it down her tiny nose. The ideal placement for the tube now out of the picture, it was instead inserted through her mouth. Now, she will be offered a bottle, but if she resists or is unable to eat her minimum amount of milk, the milk will be pumped into her stomach.”
*****
paul and i are hurting for our friends… our friends are hurting for their children, their new family. rachel was discharged from the hospital yesterday, obviously leaving the hospital with two empty car seats as both malorie and micah remain in NICU. her healing from the c-section has taken an unpleasant turn as an unknown allergy to metal popped up with regards to the staples she had for her incision.
i will keep you all updated, once again, as i am updated… please pray (if you are of the praying kind), send good thoughts, healing vibes, surround this family with love and care. hope for micah and malorie’s continued strong will to fight and conquer so that this family can be reunited.
heavy
i am feeling the weight on my shoulders. it’s not visible, nor can it be taken off of me and placed on to someone else. but it’s heavy. and it’s beginning to weigh me down.
the anticipation of september has arrived early for me this year, for what reason i do not know. but i hate it and its weight.
i hate the entire month of september and wish it were permanently wiped off the calendar.
it’s not usually until the last few days of august that i start to feel the weight; the shoulders tense up, the anxiety, the shortness of breath, the desire to stay indoors and hibernate. insomnia sets in as my mind races and recalls.
for some reason, this has already begun.
the heavy has hit.
my grandfather died 17 years ago in september. not a day goes by still that i don’t think of him. jackson’s middle name is Ray because of this wonderful man who died september 8, 1992. a picture of poppy reading to me as a child sits on jackson’s bookshelf in honor of my grandfather, my son’s namesake. and i see it every day. i smile at it every day. i miss him every day.
and then there’s the terrorist attacks our country endured on september 11, 2001. while i consider myself lucky enough to not have lost a loved one on that particular day, the date will always resonate in my mind. i will think of those who did lose loved ones on that day, because of those attacks; and my heart will ache for them. my husband serves in the military, and with that comes a constant anxiety that he can be called away at a moment’s notice should he be needed.
i was raped on september 26, 2000. though i have gained such strength in sharing my story and purging myself of the shame i have felt for the last 9 years… that date will always be ugly to me. unveiling that part of who i am, the survivor within me, answering questions from readers, and truly owning what happened to me has been a good thing. the PTSD i still suffer from especially during the month of september, is not.
i don’t want the heavy to come yet. i’m not ready. but it’s here… weighing me down like a cold, wet blanket.
wake me up when september ends
battle of the genitalia
each time jackson is out in public, he is assumed by others to be a girl.
“oh what a lovely girl…”
“your daughter has beautiful eyes.”
“goodness those curls on her are gorgeous!”
“she looks like her mommy…”
jackson can be dressed head-to-toe in blue, one hand holding his sippy cup that has trucks on it, the other hand holding his toy trucks (he has a thing for trucks), and strangers will still assume and then comment that he is a girl.
if this happens when i’m the one out-and-about with jackson, i’ll say quite loudly, “HE” or “YOU MEAN MY SON,” or “HE’S A BOY,” and embarrass the hell out of the stranger, who then retreats to another aisle in the grocery store and cries.
paul uses a gentler method, “jackson, say thanks but i’m a boy.” (an apology is made, everyone smiles and makes friends. yay.)
granted, our son has long hair… long, curly hair. (no, i’m still not cutting it.) but, to assume, and then comment with such certainty astounds me.
so paul and i were discussing this today over lunch…
paul: “let’s get jackson a tshirt that says ‘i have a penis.’”
nic: “or one that says, ‘mom wipes my weenie.’”
paul: laughs, recalling this post from earlier in the week.
nic: (continuing tshirt talk,) “wanna see my penis?”
nic: “just cuz my hair is long doesn’t mean i don’t have a schlong.”
this banter between the two of us goes on for a few minutes, and then i look at jackson eating lunch and realize that he’s drinking from a pink sippy cup.
DAMMIT!
upon finishing lunch, the three of us head to babies r us where we spend over $100 on a multitude of gender-defining items, including a pair of pajamas with skulls and cross-bones, blue and green sippy cups, and more trucks… always more trucks.
CUZ BOYS PLAY WITH TRUCKS! BOYS!
i would like to bust a cap
ok, so we live in an apartment complex… technically it’s “base-housing” but aesthetically speaking, it’s a very lovely apartment complex. 4 story brick buildings, lawn crews who plant fresh flowers bi-monthly (i kid you not), a playground for the kiddle-dids literally right outside our door… it’s pretty… to look at.
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ok, so we live in an apartment complex… technically it’s “base-housing” but it’s an apartment complex filled with families, who have a kid if not multiple kids, and animals (and yes, i am including myself in this “family” summation).
i HATE it. actually the word HATE does not even touch on how much i disdain living as a family in an apartment. paul and i lived in an apartment when we were first married… wait, no, that’s not right, first we lived in a house with 4 of his roommates and slept on an air mattress after we were first married… THEN, we lived in an apartment.
i digress…
apartment living as a single person or as a couple (in my experience) can be great, fantastic even. no worries about mowing the lawn, fixing the leaky faucet, reattaching the gutter that fell off the side of your house during a storm. just get the rent check in on time. that’s all. occasionally you have to put up with a crappy neighbor, or a weird one who feeds all the local cats in the small town that you live in… but for the most part, i found it to be pretty cool.
apartment living as a family SUCKS. honestly, i have never in my life encountered so many inconsiderate people. and my hope was that one would think, “hmm, i have a kid… a kid who makes NOISE. perhaps i should regulate my kid when in the communal areas of the apartment so not to disturb the multitude of families who ALSO have kids living in the same building.”
but no. no. no. not in this apartment complex dear friends… we have the “door SLAMMERS.” we have the “basketball in the stairwell is a good idea while babies nap-ers.” we have the “jump rope in the hallway after 7 pm when babies go to sleep-ers.” we have the “let’s construct a cardboard space shuttle in the main hallway with our 3 kids and discuss painting it AS LOUD AS POSSIBLE-ers.”
and i know i am not guiltless in this noise-contribution by any means… i mean have you met the magoo?!?
so when i shlep up three flights of stairs weekly (sometimes bi-weekly) with a 22 lb magoo, diaper bag, and 5 eco-friendly sacks (yes, i just said “sack”) of groceries, we are not quiet. not by a long shot. plus, the magoo is going through a squealing/squawking phase right now. i know he’s heard throughout the building during those times of day.
however, we do not lack common courtesy in the way that i feel others who live in this apartment complex do. the cleaning crew of the complex in which we live has not (i repeat not, as in neglected to) cleaned up cat vomit that has been in the stairwell of my friend’s building FOR TWO WEEKS. granted, this should have been accomplished by the owner of said cat (again going back to my point about common courtesy), but dammit cleaning crew! don’t just vacuum and dust and windex your way around that shit.
this week i was a complainer to the housing department. i was “that mom” who complained about the cleaning crew going through the stairwell of the apartment building with their SUPERSUCKVAC and yelling to each other in conversation during the magoo’s naptime. granted, i had addressed this exact situation with the cleaning crew directly on previous occasions, but this. was. it… i was hot.
so i, once again, approach the crew. i tell them there are 3 little ones who take both morning and afternoon naps in this building, please come back during lunch time, when the kids are awake and not being disrupted by your SUPERSUCKVAC or loud conversation about your wife’s meatloaf. one crewman in particular holds his hand up as though to silence me (note: DON’T EVER EVER EVER hold your hand up as though to silence a woman. she will cut you and leave you bleeding for wild dogs to eat your remains. ok, maybe that’s just me, but still. don’t do it.)
i am yelled at by mr. hand-holder-upper “lady, i’m doin my job. call the housing dept.”
“sure thing sir. can i have all of your names please?”
they give me their names.
i then proceed to get on the phone with the housing department, but sit in the stairwell during the call so that the housing department can hear just exactly HOW LOUD it is in my building with these nut jobs working… i also brought the baby monitor with me so that the housing department representative on the phone could hear the non-napping, screaming magoo as well. cuz i’m sweet like that.
the nut jobs get walkie-talkied by the housing department rep and told to leave my building. i rock the magoo back to sleep. done.
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!!! (or so i thought…)
in moving to the next building, i hear (from my third floor window) one of the nut jobs yell “DON’T FORGET THE EXTENSION CORD!!!” and then i hear the magoo wailing… and then i hear the following…
“man… that building 5 bitch.”
so yes, i get back on the phone, ask for the same housing department representative and give her a blow by blow of what just took place. i am told “oh i am so sorry ma’am” (don’t call me ma’am. i’m only 28!) and “we will address this in a meeting immediately when the crew returns.”
fantastic.
i have not seen the cleaning crew around here since the beginning of the week. and i hope for their sake that my husband does not see them, lest they desire to be mauled by this man…
that's right bitches.
that incident aside… apartment housing for families sucks for a few more reasons… there’s no private outside play room for your little ones. you don’t have a backyard where you can watch your child play out the window while you uncork a bottle of wine. there’s no inside communal area for your toddler to… well, toddle, because its all taken up by your neighbors strollers, kid’s bikes, helmets, (and during the winter) snow saucers.
i’m learning of this thing called a “lack of privacy,” as well. exterminators desire to enter your apartment at their convenience to spray for insects. ok, i hate bugs as much as the next person and i stand on furniture when i see one and squeal til paul kills (and flushes it because we all know if you just put it in the trash can, that little shit will come back to life and crawl its way out.) sorry exterminators, you will not enter my apartment at the time of your choosing, lest you desire to be mauled by this animal…
yes, exterminator man, i will go straight for your junk.
dear readers, please heed my warnings… DO NOT live in an apartment once you begin to spawn children. because if you do, your bottle may be permanently up.
Have a Sip
