Saturday, October 8, 2011

Okay, so there ARE some perks to not going through pregnancy....

In honor of his daughter's first birthday, my second-cousin recounts the tale of her birth, and of his rock-star wife's delivery experience:

Having a Baby in the Car...
One year ago today, my wife delivered our second child herself, in my car, while I drove. Many have asked over the last year how it happened that we didn't make it to the hospital. In honor of Violet's first birthday, here's the full play-by-play of that night, in all it's gory detail along with the 911 recording.

It was the morning of Oct 8, and Karissa was 3 days overdue, but there were still no signs of the baby, and she had her midwife appointment that day. She called me at work to tell me that they said everything still seemed OK, and to come back in a week. She expressed her frustration to the midwife of not having had the baby yet. The midwife told her about a magical "cocktail" guaranteed to induce labor. I can't say for certain, but i think it included eye of newt and toe of frog. I do know for sure that castor oil was one of the primary ingredients. We chuckled about the strange drink, and I got back to my workday.

That evening, when I got home, my mom, who had come to stay with us for a little while to help out, told me that Karissa had tried the drink, but didn't think it did much other than make her feel nauseous and do what castor oil does.

7:45pm As Karissa folded laundry, I noticed she would occasionally stop and try to catch her breath. I asked if she was in labor, and she said no, that she was just having cramps. I asked how long she'd been having them, and she said for about an hour or so. I noticed that they were getting pretty close together, so i started timing them. They were 1 min 40 secs apart, and lasted 45 secs, consistently. (For those who aren't up on these things, they say that with a second child, by the time contractions are down to just 3 or 4 mins apart, you better be on your way to the hospital.) I suggested that we leave, but Karissa was fairly certain that she wasn't in labor, just having cramps. Admittedly, although the contractions were very close together, they didn't seem very intense, as she could still talk through them.

8:20pm I called our Doula and explained the situation, and she was surprised about the contractions being 1:40 apart, but was confused that they weren't much more intense by this point, and suggested we monitor the contractions, and if they suddenly worsened, that we leave for the hospital.

8:40pm Suddenly, the contractions got so bad that Karissa was on the floor, tearing the carpet fibers out of our carpeting. I convinced her at this point that we didn't have much to lose if we went in to the hospital. The worst that would happen is that they'd say, you're too early. Go home.

8:47pm The next ten minutes was a complete blur as I frantically began throwing bags into the car and making sure we had our cameras, iPods, phones, snacks for the delivery nurses, and everything else in.

8:57pm Karissa came out to the car, and my mom asked if we wanted towels for the seat, in case her water breaks on the way. We grabbed some towels, and I put one on Karissa's seat, just in case.

8:59pm We were backing out of the driveway and Karissa had a particularly tough contraction. I asked if we should pull back in and stay at home, but she said to just go.

9:06pm The car ride gave me a chance to see just how fast my car could go in a 30 mph speed zone, while Karissa grunted, yelled and tried to get comfortable. Then, she said the words that are forever burned into my memory. "I can feel the head." I told her to push it back in, and stomped harder on the gas pedal.

9:09pm Karissa said the head was fully out. I looked over, and she wasn't lying. Adrenaline on full blast, I asked her what we should do, and totally calmly, she told me to dial 911.

9:11pm At this point, if you haven't already, watch the video. You'll notice about 20 seconds into it, you hear one little scream from Karissa, and a couple seconds later, you can hear the baby's first cry.
[He might kill me here, but this is the video he put together around the 911 call.]

After the 911 call, Karissa and baby were loaded into an ambulance and taken to the hospital, and I drove the car to meet them there.

A few Frequently Asked Questions people have asked us this past year:

Q: Is it cheaper to have a baby in the car instead of the hospital?
A: Not in the slightest. We were still sent a bill for the full labor and delivery, and added to that was a bill for the ambulance ride as well.

Q: Give it to me straight... how was the car? Do you have cloth or leather seats?
A: You really want to know? Ok, weirdo -- The car has cloth seats. But luckily, thanks to my mom's forethought, we had several large beach towels with us, and Karissa was sitting on one of them. There still was some clean-up needed, but my mom surprised us the next day by totally scrubbing it to virtually showroom condition. Thanks mom!

Yeah.  She's totally a rock star.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Lunchtime Conversation

Small Fry: Mommy, can I have some jello?  'Cause I don't like cake.

Me: That's hogwash.  You love cake.

Small Fry: I don't like hogwash cake!

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Furry Family Members

Almost everyone I know with pets thinks of them this way--as family members who wear fur coats and run around on four feet--as opposed to just merely animals.  When it comes to our cats, we feel the same way.  I personally dread the day that we have to make the hard, right, horrible decision to offer our smallest family members the comfort of death.  In fact, I do my best to not think about it and enjoy life with my kitties.  Po is creeping up on 14, so I know it will be sooner rather than later, but this is one of those things where ignorance is far more blissful than reality.

In the last month or so, two of our friends have faced the loss of a beloved furry family member.

Pets are grieved just like any other loss.

I do not envy them their pain.  I know my turn is coming.

But I hope, in relating this story from my own childhood, I can help them through their hurt, help them answer the hard questions.  College Roomie #2 has already been told this story, because she has young children and I thought she'd need to hear it.  I didn't expect that I'd have to tell it again this soon, and this time, for Tab and Two-D.  At least CR2's kids knew their beloved doggy was old and sick.  Tab and her family didn't expect to lose their chocolate lab today.  (Yes, my heart breaks for them.)
Spooky Look-alike

Innyhoo.

When I was about 12, my best friend in the whole world was the kitty-corner (pardon the pun) neighbor's  16-year-old cat, Spooky.  In a world of angst and confusion, he loved unconditionally and without reservation. I could tell him secrets that I couldn't trust to anyone else. I was 12, puberty was already no fun, and my parents had put our house on the market. (I loved that house.)  And he was as close to having a kitty of my own as I'd ever get--we had a houseful of allergies.  I took care of him when his owners would go away on vacation.  He would tolerate all sorts of affection.  I loved him.

Spooky was sick. I didn't know it, but my mom saw the signs. And sixteen is pretty ancient for an indoor/outdoor cat.

I was devastated when his owners made the awful choice to put him to sleep. My mom recollected recently how I'd come to her in tears not long after that awful day, and I asked if I would see Spooky in heaven.

Apparently a degree in elementary education and English does not prepare a parent for deep theological questions out of the mouths of grieving children.

Mom managed not to panic, although she said her thoughts were racing for the right answer to that question. Because if she answered it wrong, the consequences would be traumatic. But by the same token, she wanted to be sure the answer she gave me was biblically correct.

I honestly believe she got a jolt of divine inspiration.

She said, "Well, I know that God has promised that whatever we need will be in heaven. So if you need Spooky to be there, God will have him there."

And I think she's right.

It's been a long time since I was twelve.  I have my own small children asking me tough questions, theological and otherwise.  I have cats of my own now that I love just as much as I loved Spooky, if not more.  I know the inevitable is coming.  I'm not the grieving little girl I was then...but I find just as much comfort in those words now.

Thankfully, my experience as a child will help my children as they grieve.  And help me, too, to be honest.  For as much as I'm convinced almost daily that my cats are purrfect little heathens and should probably go straight to hell for some of the stunts they've pulled, I cannot imagine life without them.

I hope heaven has rejuvenated Spooky.  He's going to need it, because I fully expect my fuzzy heathens to be there with him.

Come to think of it, the cats as a whole better be prepared, because I think they'll have to join JJ's Thatcher, CR2's Casey, and Tab's BayLeigh up there.

Kilted to Kick Cancer: From Kickoff to Wrap-up

I've been following Ambulance Driver's Kilted to Kick Cancer fundraising event for the last month, and it's been a scream.  With a bunch of big, hairy, gunnies wandering around in kilts during their off-hours, how could it be anything but a scream?  Their goal was to raise funds for male-specific cancer research.

For your convenience, and amusement, I have assembled a collection of links chronicling the event.



And make a donation, if you choose.  Just because the contest is over doesn't mean that research funding isn't needed.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

The Rest App

PeeJay has been preaching a series about biblical life apps.

I must admit, I really liked today's: he spoke on the importance of the sabbath, the importance of rest.  The intrinsic need that we all have for it, the reason God chose to rest on the seventh day of the creation history.  God didn't need a nap...but, by golly, he knew we would.

This made me feel even less guilty about my usual Sunday afternoon nap.

Not that I really feel guilty about it to begin with...but I digress.

Hubby tucked the Fries in as I gimped down the hall and climbed into my own bed.  The damp weather here drove some achiness into my right ankle in particular, and the ibuprofen had long since worn off.  Plus, Medium's nosebleed in the middle of the night had awakened first Hubby and then me, and so I was really looking forward to my nap.  Hubby gave the Fries dire warnings about the consequences if they should choose to NOT be quiet, sleep, and stay in bed.

It's chilly enough that we finally turned the heat on, and the a/c and fan off.  Hubby crawled in next to me, and we both snuggled under the blankets.

The Fries chose to NOT be quiet, sleep, or stay in bed.  Two out of the three, anyway.

I was just getting cozy and getting Koa to leave me alone when I heard what sounded suspiciously like giggling.  I poked Hubby.  "I believe they're not being quiet."

He agreed, threw back the covers, and crept down the hall.

Given the lull between his departure and the wails that announced judgment had COME, I surmised he stood outside the Fries' room and spied, gathering intel.

I was almost startled when I heard him shout over the wails.  "Small Fry, take your panties OFF your head and put them back on your tuchus!"

Then he turned on Large Fry.  "Get that off your head, lay down with your head down at this end of the bed--" the one not closest to Small Fry's bed "--and go to SLEEP!"

Hubby paused in the doorway to our room as he came back to bed, his mouth open, his left hand on his cheek, and his eyes the size of dinnerplates.  "She had her panties on her head," he whispered.  "At first, I didn't realize that's what she had on her head.  Until I lifted up her skirt and realized she didn't have any on down there."

How we didn't dissolve into uncontrollable, give-away laughter is beyond me....

Saturday, October 1, 2011

The Baptist Dog

A Baptist preacher and his wife decided to get a new dog. Ever mindful of the congregation, they knew the dog must also be a Baptist.

They visited kennel after kennel and explained their needs. Finally, they found a kennel whose owner assured them he had just the dog they wanted.

The owner brought the dog to meet the pastor and his wife. "Fetch the Bible," he commanded. The dog bounded to the bookshelf, scrutinized the books, located the Bible, and brought it to the owner.

Now...find Psalm 23," he commanded. The dog dropped the Bible to the floor, and showing marvelous dexterity with his paws, leafed through and finding the correct passage, pointed to it with his paw.

The pastor and his wife were very impressed and purchased the dog.

That evening, a group of church members came to visit. The pastor and his wife began to show off the dog, having him locate several Bible verses.

The visitors were very impressed. One man asked, "Can he do regular dog tricks, too?"

"Why...I haven't tried yet," the pastor replied. He pointed his finger at the dog. "HEEL!" the pastor commanded.

The dog immediately jumped on a chair, placed one paw on the pastor's forehead and began to howl.

The pastor looked at his wife in shock and said, "Goodness gracious! He's Pentecostal!"

Newest Excuse

[precise British accent]  "Our first game is called 'Well Begun is Half Done,' or 'Let's tidy up the nursery.'"

Can you guess what evil Daddy Uncle has insisted the poor, overworked, underloved Fries have to do?

Clean up the toy room!

And after various complaints about having to clean up, we have this....

Medium Fry: Uncle?  I'm skawred of cleaning up. [pause]  Uncle?

Hubby [having not quite heard it all]: What?

Medium: I'm skawred of cleaning up.

Hubby: You need to clean up anyway.  So you can either be scared and clean up, or not clean up and get punished.

Medium: I'm skawred and I'll clean up.