We're well into the third trimester, the trimester in which we are all very sleepy, all the time. Sean is sleepy because he's doing all the household upkeep by himself. I am sleepy because I'm 32 weeks pregnant. Hank the Dog is sleepy because he's bored out of his mind. He wakes up every hour or so and checks to make sure I'm still breathing. Once satisfied, he goes back to sleep.
You know who isn't sleepy? Walter Paul. This baby is all about the moving and the shaking. So, I wrote him a lullaby.
It goes like this:
Walter, Walter go to sleep
May your dreams be always sweet
God loves you and we do too
Walter, Walter through and through
Walter, Walter you are loved
By friends on earth and friends above
Love surrounds you everyday
And when you sleep, in love you stay
Walter, you're our precious boy
And you bring us so much joy
Tomorrow is another day
To learn and work and grow and play
Walter, Walter go to sleep
May your dreams be always sweet
God loves you and we do too
Walter, Walter through and through
It's going to be a very lovely and effective lullaby if I can ever get through it without crying. I love this kid a whole, whole bunch. Singing him his lullaby reminds me of all the times my mom sang me to sleep (when I was little, and then sometimes when I was not-so-little anymore.) I remember the day she told me that she wrote my lullaby for me. I was amazed. I was a little skeptical. "Really?" I asked. "You wrote the words and the tune and everything? How did you do it?" She responded that it wasn't really that hard to do. It all just came to her.
I remained skeptical. I tried to write my own lullaby that very night (I must have been 15 or so.) Nothing doing. I worried that I would be a complete failure as a mother. Surely my creativity was not going to improve with age. Where would I get a lullaby?
It turns out that my mom was right. Once inspired, it's not really that hard to do. One afternoon I laid down for a rest and got kicked extra hard in an already-sore spot. I wondered if singing might help. I started thinking about all the things I wanted to say to Walter in that moment: I love you. God loves you. The whole communion of saints, on earth and in heaven, loves you. And for the love of all things holy, stop kicking me so hard.
The tune and the words came easily from there. Sean joked that we're never going to remember all the verses. My mom thinks we will--and we will probably come up with more. Sometimes babies really, really don't feel like sleeping.
There's a lot of love in a lullaby that's written just for you. Not some hypothetical, platonic ideal of love: love inspired by real events, like sleepless nights and cranky days. When I sing Mom's lullaby now--my lullaby--I think about those real life events, and I'm even more grateful than before (and that's very grateful, indeed.)
Here's baby Annie's lullaby, written and composed by Sue Edison-Swift, inspired by real events. It's called Tukka Vessa Dokka ... Norwegian-sounding nonsense words, but Dokka means "Dolly" and was what my mom's dad used to call her.
Tukka Vessa Dokka
Annie's getting sleepy
Annie's getting tiah
Now's the time for bye-ah
It has been a busy day
Now let's settle down
Now's the time to dream sweet dreams and put away all frown
Tukka Vessa Dokka
You're our little Annie
And we love you dearly
'Cuz you're part of the family
And we think you're wonderful
And we think you're smart
And we know you've come in the very middle of our heart
Hank the Dog is snoring on the couch. Sean is upstairs catching a much-needed Sunday Afternoon Clergy Spouse Nap (not as famous a phenomenon as the Sunday Afternoon Clergy Nap, but just as real.) Walter is kicking me again, but gently. We are a sleepy family, but we are well, and we are loved. Tomorrow is another day to learn and work and grow and play.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Quick update before early bedtime
There will be more. Oh yes, there will be more. But, for now:
- Michigan was awesome. (Obligatory song reference: "Michigan seems like a dream to me now.") We got to meet Henson puppeteer Kevin Clash. Walt got to meet Elmo. Walt kicked Elmo so hard that Kevin Clash could feel it and was rather alarmed. It was probably the best moment in our Muppet-loving lives, ever. I'm planning on writing the definitive review of the film Being Elmo: A Puppeteer's Journey sometime soon.
- I did OK this week. On Thursday I hit a wall and was good for absolutely nothing but sleeping and whimpering. "Don't do that too much," said Sean. "Walter will get used to it." (Meaning the whimpering.) There is so, so much more whimpering to come. I am sure of it.
- My feet are capable of achieving enormous sizes beyond my wildest dreams.
- Today was my first day back leading worship after two weeks away. I found ways to sit down for most of the service, but I still had bleeding during worship. Not sure what to do about this. It wasn't a scary amount and it stopped right away. Strategizing for working through the next 3 months is underway.
- I am learning all about help and how much I need it (lots and lots.) I've always thought I was pretty good at knowing when I need help and asking for it, but this is getting hard. It is good indeed that God's grace is free and unconditional.
- Next appointment is on Wednesday; glucose tolerance test and a follow up with Dr. M. Praying and praying for no positive on the glucose test. Trying to cut down on sugar but it really is the only thing in the whole world my body wants. Praying that's not a bad sign, gestational diabetes-wise.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Update from the recently bed rested
I'm learning all sorts of things about pregnancy. For example: Walter is about 15 inches tall right now, or about one inch taller than a Ken doll. Neat! Also: scheduling the my most busy week in recent memory for the week that Sean is out of town at a training is a surefire way to land in the hospital. Who knew?
Here's the thing: I'm not totally stupid. I was getting 12 hours of sleep a night, trying to offset some of the busy-ness during the day. As soon as I got home each night I put my feet up. I had a killer, 3 day-long charlie horse that made me all achy and limpy, so I tried to walk it out as much as possible. Which meant I was on my feet quite a bit, limping about.
I blame the charlie horse.
On Friday evening I noticed some bleeding. It was a little heavier than the spotting I've had throughout my pregnancy, but I decided it was in the realm of normal and that I wasn't worried. On Saturday afternoon there was quite a lot of bleeding. Oh dear, I thought. I went back to working on my sermon. In his letter to the Romans, Paul writes: "We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now." After unpacking that lovely image for awhile I realized I was writing the most anxious and anxiety-producing sermon, ever. I checked again. Still bleeding. I decided a little phone call to the on-call doc wouldn't hurt anything, just ease my mind a bit.
I was totally cool, calm and collected. My doctor, Dr. M, happened to be on-call that night. He asked me to come to the hospital for an ultrasound. "You need to make arrangements for tomorrow," he said. "You're not going to work."
That's about when the crying started. Hank was very concerned. I started making some calls.
First: the Andersons. I got Lydia on the phone, who immediately used her very best non-anxious presence voice and calmed me down quite a bit. Pastors' kids are so wonderful, you guys, particularly these pastors' kids. Lydia got in touch with her dad, who was at a meeting at their church--Pastor Dalton called me and said "I'll be there in 30 minutes to take you to the hospital." The crying slowed down significantly at this point and the breathing got much, much easier.
I was supposed to preach at the river that next day--a big annual ecumenical outdoor event. Because of that event, I'd planned for a very basic, short service at Redeemer with no preaching and no music. I called Dorothy, a retired pastor and member of my congregation, to let her know what was going on and ask if she could preside at communion at Redeemer. Yes indeed she could. And, if needed in the future, she'll have a sermon ready to go, too. At this point I was breathing much, much easier indeed.
I knew that Pastor Al was writing a sermon to give at his church, so I was hopeful that he'd be willing and able to preach it at the river service, too. I knew I had his cell and home number somewhere and couldn't find it. Panicked a little. Pastor Dalton called to let me know he was on his way. I shared my frustration about the phone numbers. "Have you tried whitepages.com? The phone book?" This had not occurred to me. This would also not be the last time that evening I relied entirely on Dalton to think for me. Having friends who can think, and think well, in stressful situations: very comforting.
I found Pastor Al's home phone number online, filled him in and was much relieved: he would preach at the river. Whew! Breathing again.
I called the congregation council president and a couple other folks who were signed up to be worship leaders that Sunday: they'd be able to pass the information on to others. In 30 minutes I went from very scared indeed to feeling much, much better. Later, when Dr. M. decided they needed to keep me at the hospital overnight, I called Karen and John, who picked Hank up on Sunday morning and kept him until my dad arrived from Chicago.
This is what the Body of Christ looks like, in action. Our human bodies, our human plans fail and the Body of Christ is there to breathe the Spirit into us until we can fully breathe again. I am so grateful. As she drove me to my follow up appointment today, Pastor Gretchen asked if I could name some of the "God moments" I experienced through this event. Even if this were the longest blog post ever (it still might be ... I'm on a roll!) I don't think I could possibly record all the God moments I experienced this week. But I know those moments are still with me, and I know I'll remember them in the good and scary times to come.
Once safely tucked into Dalton's car (good air conditioning: another blessing) and enroute to the hospital I called Sean. As we talked, I could feel Walter Paul kicking away, contentedly. He's a good kid.
When we got to the hospital and checked in I started getting worried again. I went up to the birthing center and settled into a labor and delivery room (I noted that the room was very nice, indeed, with many lovely amenities which will make my eventual labor and delivery quite pleasant.) I met my nurse, Kelly, whose baby girl is due the day before Walter (October 16.) She was wonderful. Reassuring, smart, caring, informative, everything you could think of in the perfect nurse and more. She got monitors on me for Walt's heartbeat and my contractions. Walt's heartbeat was perfect throughout our stay. The other monitor showed "some uterine irritability, but that's to be expected. You're pregnant!" Indeed.
We didn't have to wait very long for Dr. M, who had some stern words for me about working too hard. I tried to explain about the charlie horse. Dr. M said I made a good call on coming in, that they were going to take some blood and a urine sample, that they'd get an ultrasound and keep me overnight for monitoring, and that it seemed like everything was going to be fine, for me and the baby. Dalton got to go home, but not before he brought me tall glasses of ice water, apple juice, and a delicious peach slushie. I also got a cup of vanilla pudding. Project overload-the-baby-with-sugar kicked into full, glorious gear.
Interesting pregnancy fact: if you're worried that your baby isn't moving enough, drink a glass of cold orange juice and lie on your left side. Wait a few moments for the sugar rush to kick in. Then prepare to get kicked. A lot.
I'd already tried the orange juice trick earlier in the day while fretting and writing an awful sermon. The additional cold, sugary beverages tasted wonderful and sent the Scooter into a scooting frenzy. By the time we got the ultrasound, he was moving around too fast to get a clear picture. He also invented his first game: punch the monitor. He'd feel around for one of the monitors. When he was sure he knew where it was, he'd aim and punch (or kick, can't really tell the difference) with all his might. This would make the monitor bounce up and down in a very satisfying way. Sometimes he'd move, making the nurses go find him again with the heartbeat monitor, and begin the game again.
While Walter was hitting the heartbeat monitor, Sean called. Kelly held the phone up to the speaker. There's nothing that makes a grown man cry quite like his baby's healthy heartbeat.
The ultrasound revealed a couple of interesting things: first, a very handsome, active baby boy. ("Still a boy!" the ultrasound tech announced cheerfully.) Second, a bit of an overachiever. He's already rather firmly in the head down position, with his head very firmly down on top of my cervix. Add that pressure to being on my feet more than usual and the bleeding is explained.
Such a relief. No placenta previa. No signs of pre-term labor. Just a little cervical bleeding and a little negotiating with gravity to make it stop.
After a short but fairly restful sleep there was more monitoring and another visit from Dr. M with the verdict: bed rest for the week. Restricted work schedule after that. Follow up appointment later in the week to reassess. Allowed to get up and go to the bathroom (thank God) but nothing else. This was about the time I took my dad up on his offer to come up and help me for a few days.
I was discharged and Kelly, the wonderful nurse, drove me home. I settled in to the adjustable bed loaned by the Anderson family (don't really know what I would have done without that this week!) and commenced to sleep.
I woke up four days later. Seriously. My dad came up, took care of Hank, cleaned the house, completed several major house-related projects, fed me and kept me company while I slept. I slept day and night. Occasionally, I read a little.
Dad returned home Wednesday night and on Thursday I woke up and was able to think clearly enough to get some writing done. Thursday night I couldn't sleep: all that lying down has completely flooded my system with stomach acid. I threw some of that up and decided I needed a break from bed rest. This morning, Dr. M agreed: I'm allowed to spend more time upright, to work about half as much as usual, to go on our long-planned, eagerly awaited trip to Michigan. I am not allowed to exercise. Under any circumstances.
Me: What kind of exercise do you recommend?
Dr. M: That's easy. None.
Me: But ...
Dr. M: NONE.
OK, then!
That's my story. Tomorrow we head off to Traverse City, MI for a week of continuing education (the Great Lakes Theological Institute hosted by Trinity Seminary), BabyMoon and 5 year wedding anniversary celebration. But no exercise.
Fortunately, no restrictions have been placed on pie.
Here's the thing: I'm not totally stupid. I was getting 12 hours of sleep a night, trying to offset some of the busy-ness during the day. As soon as I got home each night I put my feet up. I had a killer, 3 day-long charlie horse that made me all achy and limpy, so I tried to walk it out as much as possible. Which meant I was on my feet quite a bit, limping about.
I blame the charlie horse.
On Friday evening I noticed some bleeding. It was a little heavier than the spotting I've had throughout my pregnancy, but I decided it was in the realm of normal and that I wasn't worried. On Saturday afternoon there was quite a lot of bleeding. Oh dear, I thought. I went back to working on my sermon. In his letter to the Romans, Paul writes: "We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now." After unpacking that lovely image for awhile I realized I was writing the most anxious and anxiety-producing sermon, ever. I checked again. Still bleeding. I decided a little phone call to the on-call doc wouldn't hurt anything, just ease my mind a bit.
I was totally cool, calm and collected. My doctor, Dr. M, happened to be on-call that night. He asked me to come to the hospital for an ultrasound. "You need to make arrangements for tomorrow," he said. "You're not going to work."
That's about when the crying started. Hank was very concerned. I started making some calls.
First: the Andersons. I got Lydia on the phone, who immediately used her very best non-anxious presence voice and calmed me down quite a bit. Pastors' kids are so wonderful, you guys, particularly these pastors' kids. Lydia got in touch with her dad, who was at a meeting at their church--Pastor Dalton called me and said "I'll be there in 30 minutes to take you to the hospital." The crying slowed down significantly at this point and the breathing got much, much easier.
I was supposed to preach at the river that next day--a big annual ecumenical outdoor event. Because of that event, I'd planned for a very basic, short service at Redeemer with no preaching and no music. I called Dorothy, a retired pastor and member of my congregation, to let her know what was going on and ask if she could preside at communion at Redeemer. Yes indeed she could. And, if needed in the future, she'll have a sermon ready to go, too. At this point I was breathing much, much easier indeed.
I knew that Pastor Al was writing a sermon to give at his church, so I was hopeful that he'd be willing and able to preach it at the river service, too. I knew I had his cell and home number somewhere and couldn't find it. Panicked a little. Pastor Dalton called to let me know he was on his way. I shared my frustration about the phone numbers. "Have you tried whitepages.com? The phone book?" This had not occurred to me. This would also not be the last time that evening I relied entirely on Dalton to think for me. Having friends who can think, and think well, in stressful situations: very comforting.
I found Pastor Al's home phone number online, filled him in and was much relieved: he would preach at the river. Whew! Breathing again.
I called the congregation council president and a couple other folks who were signed up to be worship leaders that Sunday: they'd be able to pass the information on to others. In 30 minutes I went from very scared indeed to feeling much, much better. Later, when Dr. M. decided they needed to keep me at the hospital overnight, I called Karen and John, who picked Hank up on Sunday morning and kept him until my dad arrived from Chicago.
This is what the Body of Christ looks like, in action. Our human bodies, our human plans fail and the Body of Christ is there to breathe the Spirit into us until we can fully breathe again. I am so grateful. As she drove me to my follow up appointment today, Pastor Gretchen asked if I could name some of the "God moments" I experienced through this event. Even if this were the longest blog post ever (it still might be ... I'm on a roll!) I don't think I could possibly record all the God moments I experienced this week. But I know those moments are still with me, and I know I'll remember them in the good and scary times to come.
Once safely tucked into Dalton's car (good air conditioning: another blessing) and enroute to the hospital I called Sean. As we talked, I could feel Walter Paul kicking away, contentedly. He's a good kid.
When we got to the hospital and checked in I started getting worried again. I went up to the birthing center and settled into a labor and delivery room (I noted that the room was very nice, indeed, with many lovely amenities which will make my eventual labor and delivery quite pleasant.) I met my nurse, Kelly, whose baby girl is due the day before Walter (October 16.) She was wonderful. Reassuring, smart, caring, informative, everything you could think of in the perfect nurse and more. She got monitors on me for Walt's heartbeat and my contractions. Walt's heartbeat was perfect throughout our stay. The other monitor showed "some uterine irritability, but that's to be expected. You're pregnant!" Indeed.
We didn't have to wait very long for Dr. M, who had some stern words for me about working too hard. I tried to explain about the charlie horse. Dr. M said I made a good call on coming in, that they were going to take some blood and a urine sample, that they'd get an ultrasound and keep me overnight for monitoring, and that it seemed like everything was going to be fine, for me and the baby. Dalton got to go home, but not before he brought me tall glasses of ice water, apple juice, and a delicious peach slushie. I also got a cup of vanilla pudding. Project overload-the-baby-with-sugar kicked into full, glorious gear.
Interesting pregnancy fact: if you're worried that your baby isn't moving enough, drink a glass of cold orange juice and lie on your left side. Wait a few moments for the sugar rush to kick in. Then prepare to get kicked. A lot.
I'd already tried the orange juice trick earlier in the day while fretting and writing an awful sermon. The additional cold, sugary beverages tasted wonderful and sent the Scooter into a scooting frenzy. By the time we got the ultrasound, he was moving around too fast to get a clear picture. He also invented his first game: punch the monitor. He'd feel around for one of the monitors. When he was sure he knew where it was, he'd aim and punch (or kick, can't really tell the difference) with all his might. This would make the monitor bounce up and down in a very satisfying way. Sometimes he'd move, making the nurses go find him again with the heartbeat monitor, and begin the game again.
While Walter was hitting the heartbeat monitor, Sean called. Kelly held the phone up to the speaker. There's nothing that makes a grown man cry quite like his baby's healthy heartbeat.
The ultrasound revealed a couple of interesting things: first, a very handsome, active baby boy. ("Still a boy!" the ultrasound tech announced cheerfully.) Second, a bit of an overachiever. He's already rather firmly in the head down position, with his head very firmly down on top of my cervix. Add that pressure to being on my feet more than usual and the bleeding is explained.
Such a relief. No placenta previa. No signs of pre-term labor. Just a little cervical bleeding and a little negotiating with gravity to make it stop.
After a short but fairly restful sleep there was more monitoring and another visit from Dr. M with the verdict: bed rest for the week. Restricted work schedule after that. Follow up appointment later in the week to reassess. Allowed to get up and go to the bathroom (thank God) but nothing else. This was about the time I took my dad up on his offer to come up and help me for a few days.
I was discharged and Kelly, the wonderful nurse, drove me home. I settled in to the adjustable bed loaned by the Anderson family (don't really know what I would have done without that this week!) and commenced to sleep.
I woke up four days later. Seriously. My dad came up, took care of Hank, cleaned the house, completed several major house-related projects, fed me and kept me company while I slept. I slept day and night. Occasionally, I read a little.
Dad returned home Wednesday night and on Thursday I woke up and was able to think clearly enough to get some writing done. Thursday night I couldn't sleep: all that lying down has completely flooded my system with stomach acid. I threw some of that up and decided I needed a break from bed rest. This morning, Dr. M agreed: I'm allowed to spend more time upright, to work about half as much as usual, to go on our long-planned, eagerly awaited trip to Michigan. I am not allowed to exercise. Under any circumstances.
Me: What kind of exercise do you recommend?
Dr. M: That's easy. None.
Me: But ...
Dr. M: NONE.
OK, then!
That's my story. Tomorrow we head off to Traverse City, MI for a week of continuing education (the Great Lakes Theological Institute hosted by Trinity Seminary), BabyMoon and 5 year wedding anniversary celebration. But no exercise.
Fortunately, no restrictions have been placed on pie.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
A sympathetic ear
Well, my strategy of avoiding reading any of our baby books really backfired on me last month, when my sympathetic pregnancy -- deprived of any solid background research -- manifested as high fever, body aches, difficulty breathing... and let's just say plenty of bathroom time to catch up on my reading. Did you know that newborns can identify their parents by smell? Two baby books later and five pounds lighter, I'm rounding out my second sympathetic trimester much more comfortably, thankyouverymuch. (Annie suggests I've gotten off easy, but that's just her sympathetic sympathetic pregnancy talking.)
Do you know who, on the other hand, is incredibly healthy? With an official prognosis of "strong like ox?" (Well, I made that prognosis, but it's valid.) Walter Paul. Annie's most recent doc visit yielded the attached ultrasound-clip of the boy's ticker. Give it a listen... what do you hear? Do you think he's lion-hearted? Generous? Kind?
Do you know who, on the other hand, is incredibly healthy? With an official prognosis of "strong like ox?" (Well, I made that prognosis, but it's valid.) Walter Paul. Annie's most recent doc visit yielded the attached ultrasound-clip of the boy's ticker. Give it a listen... what do you hear? Do you think he's lion-hearted? Generous? Kind?
Monday, June 27, 2011
6 months and all's ... well?
Yes, all is well. About a week ago I promised a post from Sean. Ah, promises. Let's just say, in the immortal words of Stitch, that this week finds the Edison-Albright family "little and broken, but still good." Ja, still good.
Let's get the broken part out of the way, first:
Sean: That awful stomach bug that started two weeks ago? Still hanging around in abnormal and unpleasant ways. This week added the particularly scary symptoms of shortness of breath and asthma-like bronchial spasms. Sean went to urgent care on Thursday and got sent home with an inhaler, which seemed to make his breathing problems much, much worse. He's got an appointment with a doctor this afternoon. Throughout the week we canceled all our plans for the weekend except a long-standing date to go fishing with friends from the congregation, plans we kept with some worries about bathroom proximity. I'm so glad we had that afternoon/evening out ... I haven't seen Sean so happy and relaxed in months. He gets on the water and his whole posture changes. Yes, as the day went on he had more and more breathing problems. And it was probably a good thing we didn't try to do more fun things this weekend. But it was worth it for those hours in the sun, by the water, with friends.
Hank the Dog: Hank also had the time of his life on our fishing trip yesterday. He got to ride on a boat, play with wonderful kids who love him, overcome his fear of water with joyful doggy abandon, wear a snappy new life preserver, run, play, smell new smells ... such a good day. After dinner he engaged in a rousing game of "STICK!" (chase stick, return stick, try to get stick away from children, jump, steal stick, run with stick.) During the "run with stick" portion of the game, Hank managed to position the stick between the ground and his soft palate with such force that the game came to a rather sudden end. It was awful to watch--we were so close and there was nothing we could do. He cried, he threw up. We rushed over and he laid down between us, letting me open his mouth all the way to get a look at the damage. While we're pretty sure he gave himself a nasty bruise, the only visible damage is a tiny, tiny scratch near the back of his palate, which was a little red but not bleeding.
As you can imagine, the experience of watching a beloved creature who depends on us completely get hurt felt rather significant, and I immediately tried to note our reactions and extrapolate to possible future events: "No, Walter. You are not allowed to run with sticks. Trust me." I think I stayed pretty calm. I tried to keep the tone positive and reassure our friends that we were all OK and the evening's fun could continue (although we stopped playing "STICK!" and started playing "everyone gather around Hank and pet him." Hank appreciated the change in activities.) Sean's reaction ... well ... I'll let him add his own thoughts/correct mine if I'm off base, but I think that when his mouth was saying "I'm just going to take another look at your mouth, puppy," he was actually communicating this: "HOLY CRAP, MY PUPPY! MY LITTLE DOG IS HURT! CRAAAAAAAAAAAAP! TAKE ME, GOD, SPARE THE DOG!" To be fair, shortly after the accident Hank seemed to recover almost completely and took off running to explore the woods, as he does. Sean and I watched him go. Sean said: "It's fine. He'll come back." I said, "Why don't you go after him, though" and actually communicated this: "ARE YOU CRAZY?! GO GET OUR DOG! HE IS HURT AND UNTRUSTWORTHY AND WE ARE GOING TO LOSE HIM FOREVER!" Sean went and retrieved the dog, who was fine and, yes, probably would have come back on his own. Eventually. Maybe.
You guys, I don't know if you're aware of this, but being a parent is terrifying.
I don't know how we'll react the first time Walter takes a tumble or puts something dangerous into his mouth. I can't imagine how we'd deal with the news my parents got about me in October, 1985: it's cancer, final stage, terminal, your daughter is going to die in less than 6 months. All I know is that, whatever happens, we won't be alone.
As for Hank, he started acting Hank-like again right away ...a happy, social, mischievous, curious little dog. He was (and still is today) a little more mellow and cuddly than usual. We're keeping an eye on that, just to make sure he's not brewing up a little mouth infection. We're giving him ice water in his water bowl, (Hank says: "Thanks! That's thoughtful of you.") and also got him a "pup cup" of softserve from Dairy Queen (Hank says: "YOU ARE THE GREATEST PEOPLE IN THE UNIVERSE! I LOVE YOU! AND ICE CREAM!") He's not scared. He trusts us. He's a little wary of sticks, but certainly not as wary as he should be ... and that's good.
Me: Compared to Sean and Hank, my brokenness is pretty unexciting. On Monday I had the repeated and very unpleasant experience of throwing up immediately every time I took a bite of food or slightly reclined my body from the locked and upright position. I wasn't nauseous, it was just an instant reflex. In fact, it was reflux. Digusting, acidy, day-and-night-ruining reflux. I called the nurse help line the next day and she recommended Pepcid AC; small, bland meals; no fatty, spicy or acidy foods; staying upright as much as possible (especially after meals); and no food for at least an hour before bed. "If that doesn't work," she said, "We'll have to check your gallbladder. And you shouldn't wait for office hours, you should go to the ER." Never have I put more faith and hope in over-the-counter medications and simple dietary changes. And it worked. I have repented of my pie-eating ways. Mostly. As long as I don't lie down for a nap right after the pie I seem to be OK. You know how much I love a good after-pie nap, though. No one said this was going to be easy.
You may be wondering, "But how is Walter?" Walter seems to be doing just fine. He's started doing this adorable thing where he wakes up right as I'm trying to go to bed and pummels my vital organs with his feet and fists. Honestly, even when he's taking shots at my one, solitary, incredibly-important-for-both-of-our-lives kidney, it's reassuring to feel him up and active. This week was hard. Regular and vigorous Scooter movements were welcome bright spots.
But they weren't the only bright spots! We have been absolutely surrounded by love and blessings as of late. The Fites, a clergy couple serving a congregation nearby, gave us a stroller/car seat/baby carrier system that is the coolest thing I've ever seen, along with tons of baby boy clothes, tiny shoes, pillows and carrying devices and all sorts of wonderful baby gear. A gorgeously illustrated book of Walt Whitman's "When I heard the learned astronomer" arrived from John and Jeannie along with a much appreciated Amazon gift card. My cousin Rachel sent several classic storybooks ... in Spanish! Buenas Noches, Luna! Sean's folks sent us "Christmas in June" gifts that included some particularly adorable clothes for Walt ... Sean especially loves the orange "Rock Star" hoodie combo. Friends from near and far have checked in on us, prayed for heath and healing, given good advice and offered help in many real and tangible ways.
The most tangible help for me this week came in the form of ... a bed. A thing of beauty: the head and feet of the bead can be raised and lowered, giving acid reflux a run for it's soggy money. It also had several massage functions. =) The bed is on loan from Pastor Gretchen's mom and was delivered by the Anderson clan last night, bless their aching backs! And I slept, oh did I sleep. I slept through the whole night for the first time since ... week 6, maybe?
In an email, Gretchen said: "You are loved ... and God answers prayers we scarcely ask." I can't think of a better way to sum up this week, this pregnancy, this life.
All's well. =)
Let's get the broken part out of the way, first:
As you can imagine, the experience of watching a beloved creature who depends on us completely get hurt felt rather significant, and I immediately tried to note our reactions and extrapolate to possible future events: "No, Walter. You are not allowed to run with sticks. Trust me." I think I stayed pretty calm. I tried to keep the tone positive and reassure our friends that we were all OK and the evening's fun could continue (although we stopped playing "STICK!" and started playing "everyone gather around Hank and pet him." Hank appreciated the change in activities.) Sean's reaction ... well ... I'll let him add his own thoughts/correct mine if I'm off base, but I think that when his mouth was saying "I'm just going to take another look at your mouth, puppy," he was actually communicating this: "HOLY CRAP, MY PUPPY! MY LITTLE DOG IS HURT! CRAAAAAAAAAAAAP! TAKE ME, GOD, SPARE THE DOG!" To be fair, shortly after the accident Hank seemed to recover almost completely and took off running to explore the woods, as he does. Sean and I watched him go. Sean said: "It's fine. He'll come back." I said, "Why don't you go after him, though" and actually communicated this: "ARE YOU CRAZY?! GO GET OUR DOG! HE IS HURT AND UNTRUSTWORTHY AND WE ARE GOING TO LOSE HIM FOREVER!" Sean went and retrieved the dog, who was fine and, yes, probably would have come back on his own. Eventually. Maybe.
You guys, I don't know if you're aware of this, but being a parent is terrifying.
I don't know how we'll react the first time Walter takes a tumble or puts something dangerous into his mouth. I can't imagine how we'd deal with the news my parents got about me in October, 1985: it's cancer, final stage, terminal, your daughter is going to die in less than 6 months. All I know is that, whatever happens, we won't be alone.
As for Hank, he started acting Hank-like again right away ...a happy, social, mischievous, curious little dog. He was (and still is today) a little more mellow and cuddly than usual. We're keeping an eye on that, just to make sure he's not brewing up a little mouth infection. We're giving him ice water in his water bowl, (Hank says: "Thanks! That's thoughtful of you.") and also got him a "pup cup" of softserve from Dairy Queen (Hank says: "YOU ARE THE GREATEST PEOPLE IN THE UNIVERSE! I LOVE YOU! AND ICE CREAM!") He's not scared. He trusts us. He's a little wary of sticks, but certainly not as wary as he should be ... and that's good.
 |
| Fishing: just what the doctor ordered! |
You may be wondering, "But how is Walter?" Walter seems to be doing just fine. He's started doing this adorable thing where he wakes up right as I'm trying to go to bed and pummels my vital organs with his feet and fists. Honestly, even when he's taking shots at my one, solitary, incredibly-important-for-both-of-our-lives kidney, it's reassuring to feel him up and active. This week was hard. Regular and vigorous Scooter movements were welcome bright spots.
The most tangible help for me this week came in the form of ... a bed. A thing of beauty: the head and feet of the bead can be raised and lowered, giving acid reflux a run for it's soggy money. It also had several massage functions. =) The bed is on loan from Pastor Gretchen's mom and was delivered by the Anderson clan last night, bless their aching backs! And I slept, oh did I sleep. I slept through the whole night for the first time since ... week 6, maybe?
In an email, Gretchen said: "You are loved ... and God answers prayers we scarcely ask." I can't think of a better way to sum up this week, this pregnancy, this life.
All's well. =)
 |
| Me and Hank with Emma, Cooper and Maggie. For more pictures of our wonderful day with the Behnke Family, including pics of me looking huge and ridiculously pregnant, go to our flickr album. |
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Celebrating Dads
I was at confirmation camp all week with no internet connection (you would not believe the amount of sleep I got ... it was awesome!) Sean was home alone with Hank and some sort of terrible stomach bug (not awesome at all.) So we're a bit behind on getting our weekly post together. Here are some Scooter-related items to tide you over until Sean's post, promised for later this week.
First, a gift from Mom and Dad Edison-Swift (or Grandma and Grandpa, depending on your perspective):
Also, I gave a sermon today that prominently featured stories of our Scooter preparations. This graphic is a teaser to pique your interest:
And finally, a family portrait:
Friday, June 10, 2011
Symptoms include ...
The Mayo Clinic Guide to Terrifying Pregnant People says to expect these things during the second trimester:
Vivid, unpleasant dreams
Check! Although they haven't been as bad as my usual anxiety nightmares, just more life-like and frantic. I'm usually doing something that requires a tremendous amount of energy, like directing a high school musical. I wake up exhausted. This morning, though, I had an incredibly vivid dream that I was eating oatmeal. Then I woke up and ate some oatmeal for breakfast (and some for lunch, too.) What a helpful dream!
GERD
Heartburn, baby. Acid reflux-o-rama. Did you know that all good foods cause heartburn? Oatmeal seems to be a notable exception. Milk and chocolate are both on the list of foods to avoid, but for some reason chocolate milk seems to be all good for me and Scooter. Scooter also likes peanut butter cup blizzards, chocolate milkshakes, and cherry dipped vanilla softserve cones from Dairy Queen. Not all at once, though. We are trying to be healthy.
Irrational Fears
I've been really busy this week. That's the reason I'm giving for the fact that I went a whole day without noticing any Scooter movement. I'm sure the movement was there (in the days since, there has been tons of movement, including an adorable case of late night fetal hiccups after one of those trips to Dairy Queen.) I just didn't notice it, and then I noticed that I hadn't noticed it, and then I panicked a little. Sean was very calm and encouraging. He put his mouth right next to the belly and addressed the Scooter directly: "Walter! This is your daddy. Knock once if you can hear me!" We waited for about 30 seconds, and then there was one very distinct bop from inside the womb. The child is not even born yet and already the menfolk are in cahoots.
Anti-climactic revelation of baby's name
As noted above. =) We are quite excited to meet wee Walter and have started using his name with gleeful abandon. We've been duly warned by many experienced parents: sometimes the baby arrives and does not look at all like the name you've chosen. We think we're safe, though, because every baby, male and female, looks like a Walter (ie, like an old man.) We know it's not a particularly fashionable name, but we love it. He's named only partly after Mr. Whitman (he of our last pictoral clue) and really only tangentially after WALL-E (the lovable robot). Mostly he's named after Sean's grandpa, his mom's dad, who Sean never got to meet but who he's always loved. We're planning on calling him "Walt," aware that we may eventually be overruled by the child himself when it comes to nickname preferences (today, for example, we learned that Hank comes very quickly like a good boy when he hears the word, "Cake.")
Attempts to regain sense of drama with the baby's middle name
So, middle name clues! As Sean noted, it is another family name. Walt will also share this name with someone who shows up quite a lot in Christian iconography carrying a sword and showing off his receding hair line (he's depicted with a "high forehead" to indicate his great intelligence.) No pictures this time ... the last one I posted actually had the name written in the lower right hand corner, leading Sean to note that the two of us need an upgrade to our monitors or our glasses.
Amphibious characteristics
I have taken to the water. I spent my free time at Synod Assembly floating, treading, and jogging around the hotel pool. I've been to two water aerobics classes at the Y and am looking forward to more. This swimming thing seems to be nothing but good for me. I am less dangerously clumsy in the water (still clumsy, just not as dangerous.) I feel light. The water seems to take some pressure off my innards, leading to better digestion, and the chlorine seems to be clearing up my awful back acne. (I make pregnancy sound so glamorous and beautiful, don't I?) I've noticed that it seems to already be helping me get my strength and stamina back after those 3 months of near total immobility. Water is very, very good.
Even moar weeping
We went to a piano recital of two young members of the congregation last night. This was the greatest beginner recital I've ever been to--the kids were all so proud, so happy, so confident and just giddy with the chance to do something they clearly enjoyed. Of course I cried. You would too if you'd been there to hear Cooper's own arrangement of "Amazing Grace." We got a pamphlet for the program ... it's a music appreciation curriculum that starts with infants! We are so doing this. Also, Baby Swim.
Wonderful gifts
This doesn't really fit with the "terrifying pregnancy facts" theme, although it is related to the symptom described above. Also, I am a little terrified that I will be too paralyzed by guilt to sit down and write thank you notes, because I'm already so very far behind. There's my next vivid dream, I predict. But oh, the wonderful gifts! There were ladybug cards from Nancy and booties from the Andersons (who have also lent us the most gorgeous crib you've ever seen. Their youngest son recommends we rock it by attaching a string to the crib and the other end of the string to my big toe.) There was the blanket from Audrey you heard about before, and a classic text on "Expectant Motherhood" from Shannon (along with a note which I will always treasure.) My parents sent us Bunnicula II--descended from the noble line of Bunnicula, my all-time favorite stuffed animal and vampire bunny series protagonist. I got a book on child rearing from my confirmation co-teacher and an adorable bunny figurine from a member of the women's study group. And today ... today a box arrived from Texas.
The box came from Arwen. Like the box from Audrey, you could tell right away that it was good because it was covered with stickers. Inside was something truly wonderful indeed.
A homemade, hand-crafted fraggle!
Arwen remembered that fraggles played a significant role in the early wooing days of Scooter's parents, and she remembered fondly the enthusiasm she and I shared for Fraggle Rock during our time as teachers together. When we started this blog four years ago, Arwen decided to make us (and Baby Edison-Albright) a fraggle. We've named him Groovy Fraggle and we LOVE him. But there's more! Other handmade items in the box: a doozer (we named him Biscuit,) a radish, a cupcake, and a hat for Sean to wear for comedic effect in the delivery room (you can see the hat in the picture, too.)
Little Walt, you are so loved by so many amazing people. Friends and family from all over have been preparing for years for your arrival. If you feel the love, knock once. [Bop!]
Vivid, unpleasant dreams
Check! Although they haven't been as bad as my usual anxiety nightmares, just more life-like and frantic. I'm usually doing something that requires a tremendous amount of energy, like directing a high school musical. I wake up exhausted. This morning, though, I had an incredibly vivid dream that I was eating oatmeal. Then I woke up and ate some oatmeal for breakfast (and some for lunch, too.) What a helpful dream!
GERD
Heartburn, baby. Acid reflux-o-rama. Did you know that all good foods cause heartburn? Oatmeal seems to be a notable exception. Milk and chocolate are both on the list of foods to avoid, but for some reason chocolate milk seems to be all good for me and Scooter. Scooter also likes peanut butter cup blizzards, chocolate milkshakes, and cherry dipped vanilla softserve cones from Dairy Queen. Not all at once, though. We are trying to be healthy.
Irrational Fears
I've been really busy this week. That's the reason I'm giving for the fact that I went a whole day without noticing any Scooter movement. I'm sure the movement was there (in the days since, there has been tons of movement, including an adorable case of late night fetal hiccups after one of those trips to Dairy Queen.) I just didn't notice it, and then I noticed that I hadn't noticed it, and then I panicked a little. Sean was very calm and encouraging. He put his mouth right next to the belly and addressed the Scooter directly: "Walter! This is your daddy. Knock once if you can hear me!" We waited for about 30 seconds, and then there was one very distinct bop from inside the womb. The child is not even born yet and already the menfolk are in cahoots.
Anti-climactic revelation of baby's name
As noted above. =) We are quite excited to meet wee Walter and have started using his name with gleeful abandon. We've been duly warned by many experienced parents: sometimes the baby arrives and does not look at all like the name you've chosen. We think we're safe, though, because every baby, male and female, looks like a Walter (ie, like an old man.) We know it's not a particularly fashionable name, but we love it. He's named only partly after Mr. Whitman (he of our last pictoral clue) and really only tangentially after WALL-E (the lovable robot). Mostly he's named after Sean's grandpa, his mom's dad, who Sean never got to meet but who he's always loved. We're planning on calling him "Walt," aware that we may eventually be overruled by the child himself when it comes to nickname preferences (today, for example, we learned that Hank comes very quickly like a good boy when he hears the word, "Cake.")
Attempts to regain sense of drama with the baby's middle name
So, middle name clues! As Sean noted, it is another family name. Walt will also share this name with someone who shows up quite a lot in Christian iconography carrying a sword and showing off his receding hair line (he's depicted with a "high forehead" to indicate his great intelligence.) No pictures this time ... the last one I posted actually had the name written in the lower right hand corner, leading Sean to note that the two of us need an upgrade to our monitors or our glasses.
Amphibious characteristics
I have taken to the water. I spent my free time at Synod Assembly floating, treading, and jogging around the hotel pool. I've been to two water aerobics classes at the Y and am looking forward to more. This swimming thing seems to be nothing but good for me. I am less dangerously clumsy in the water (still clumsy, just not as dangerous.) I feel light. The water seems to take some pressure off my innards, leading to better digestion, and the chlorine seems to be clearing up my awful back acne. (I make pregnancy sound so glamorous and beautiful, don't I?) I've noticed that it seems to already be helping me get my strength and stamina back after those 3 months of near total immobility. Water is very, very good.
Even moar weeping
We went to a piano recital of two young members of the congregation last night. This was the greatest beginner recital I've ever been to--the kids were all so proud, so happy, so confident and just giddy with the chance to do something they clearly enjoyed. Of course I cried. You would too if you'd been there to hear Cooper's own arrangement of "Amazing Grace." We got a pamphlet for the program ... it's a music appreciation curriculum that starts with infants! We are so doing this. Also, Baby Swim.
Wonderful gifts
This doesn't really fit with the "terrifying pregnancy facts" theme, although it is related to the symptom described above. Also, I am a little terrified that I will be too paralyzed by guilt to sit down and write thank you notes, because I'm already so very far behind. There's my next vivid dream, I predict. But oh, the wonderful gifts! There were ladybug cards from Nancy and booties from the Andersons (who have also lent us the most gorgeous crib you've ever seen. Their youngest son recommends we rock it by attaching a string to the crib and the other end of the string to my big toe.) There was the blanket from Audrey you heard about before, and a classic text on "Expectant Motherhood" from Shannon (along with a note which I will always treasure.) My parents sent us Bunnicula II--descended from the noble line of Bunnicula, my all-time favorite stuffed animal and vampire bunny series protagonist. I got a book on child rearing from my confirmation co-teacher and an adorable bunny figurine from a member of the women's study group. And today ... today a box arrived from Texas.
The box came from Arwen. Like the box from Audrey, you could tell right away that it was good because it was covered with stickers. Inside was something truly wonderful indeed.
Arwen remembered that fraggles played a significant role in the early wooing days of Scooter's parents, and she remembered fondly the enthusiasm she and I shared for Fraggle Rock during our time as teachers together. When we started this blog four years ago, Arwen decided to make us (and Baby Edison-Albright) a fraggle. We've named him Groovy Fraggle and we LOVE him. But there's more! Other handmade items in the box: a doozer (we named him Biscuit,) a radish, a cupcake, and a hat for Sean to wear for comedic effect in the delivery room (you can see the hat in the picture, too.)
Little Walt, you are so loved by so many amazing people. Friends and family from all over have been preparing for years for your arrival. If you feel the love, knock once. [Bop!]
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