Valentine Day 2017

Wish I had taken a picture of the kids this morning, but if I had we would have been tardy and I've vowed the kids would not beat 17 tardies this semester which is the number they had last semester.  It's embarrassing really.  

Zannah came out of her room this morning in her fanciest church dress, tights and her white church shoes, a heart necklace and a headband that she had glued paper hearts to pipe cleaners making heart antennas.  I asked if she wanted me to put her hair in a bun, but she said she didn't want to show off.  Max on the other hand was in an old soccer shirt and sweatpants.  I told them they looked wonderful and to sit down and eat their pink pancakes I had made.  Sometimes I rock being a mom.  I pat myself on the back when I swallow my need to control and I practically hug myself when I do something festive like cook pink pancakes.  

Metta then took a valentine to her friend James.  She is on the verge of being as social as Z.  She begs for friends daily.  We then went to the new house where we spend most of our time.  Nixon naps in the car while I caulk windows and trim while Metta plays/helps/cries/facetimesanyonewhowillanswer.  

After school both kids proclaimed it was the best day.  Good thing, because they have been praying for 3 days straight that this would be the best valentine ever.  

Max informed me this week he hates the learning part of school but he LOVES RECESS!  He also told me today while peeling a hard boiled egg to eat that he is getting too old for eggs.  

Pregnancy

I was terrible about documenting my pregnancy.  But, I'll write what I remember.  The transfer was unremarkable.  The initial blood numbers were great, but the second set of numbers weren't great. We prepared ourselves for a possible chemical pregnancy.  The third set of numbers were excellent and we were relieved that it had taken.  At 5 1/2 weeks, I scanned myself and was shocked to see 2 embryo sacs.  I left the hospital and didn't go home.  I called my mom and told her the news and told her how scared I was to tell Marcus.  I was also very smug, as I wanted 5 kids and Marcus barely conceded to a fourth and that was after a handshake and a promise that this would be our last.  I felt that this was meant to be and a good lesson for him for trying to tell me what to do. I went and bought him so Mountain Dew and cinnamon bears and came home and told him the news.  He was shocked, but took it rather well.  The next 3 weeks were pure excitement.  It's amazing what imprints on your heart in such a short amount of time.  Name picking, room planning, wrapping our heads around 5 kids, it was just thrilling to think about twins!  Because of my profession, I was paranoid about a vanishing twin.  Which is where one twin dies in the first trimester.  I asked at my 7 week ultrasound and the PA told me she had never seen one occur at their clinic. This put my mind at ease. I was also paranoid that both yolk sacs were measuring large. I emailed my concerns to the clinic and they were also concerned but all we could do was wait and watch. I scanned myself at 8 1/2 weeks and there was only one heartbeat.  I was devastated.  I was also very concerned that because both gestational sacs, yolk sacs and crown rump lengths had been measuring the same and progressing the same that it was likely the other baby may demise as well.  I was also concerned about aborting the demised twin and it affecting the living baby.  Some people miscarry the twin and some don't.  It was such a relief to see that little heartbeat each time I checked.  I never did miscarry the twin.  I could see that little gestational sac with the fetal body floating around in it up until around 20 weeks and was and still is a source of sadness.

I felt I handled my shots this time around better and braver than I ever had before.  Nausea went away into the second trimester.  A new pregnancy symptom appeared this time in the form of painful varicose veins.  Charlotte sent me her compression hose and I wore those beasts on the affected leg the rest of my pregnancy.  I craved chomping on ice and smelling/eating dishwasher detergent just like with Metta.  I did resist eating the detergent.

I was way more tired this time around.  That could be because we listed our house for sale and I was having to keep it show ready clean with 3 little monsters running a muck.  Our house sold quicker than planned.  I felt a sense of urgency to get something rented ASAP.  We did so and I cleaned it from top to bottom while Marcus was out of town and moved a fair amount of our stuff by myself, so it came as no surprise to me that my water broke at 37 weeks and only days after we moved into the rental.    

  

A Birth Story

At 37 1/2 weeks, and mere days after we had moved out of our house and into a rental my water broke at 5 AM on a Monday morning.  I had been on call all weekend and had just got called in for the third time that night.  I got up to get dressed and was wet.  It wasn't a crazy amount, but it was pink, so I figured it was my water.  I told Marcus I was heading into the hospital and what I thought was happening.  I wasn't having any real contractions, so I could scan my patient and myself and then decide what to do.  I scanned myself right away and my amniotic fluid was low. I casually mentioned it to the ER doc when I went to get my patient and he told me I needed to get admitted there or head to Boise if that is where I was delivering.  I called my co-worker to explain and headed home.  We dropped off the kiddos at a friends house until Dana could get here and Marcus and I headed to St. Lukes.

Once there, the nurse checked me and said it didn't test positive for amniotic fluid.  I was pretty darn sure it was, but felt silly nonetheless as I started doubting myself.  She called Dr. Lovelace and he had me come over to his office.  He checked me and said it most definitely was and sent me back over to be admitted.  

I was started on pitocin as Marcus left to get me some breakfast.  The contractions started kicking in but were manageable.  As the pitocin increased, I started getting more and more uncomfortable, until I just couldn't relax anymore in between contractions and asked for an epidural, I was dilated to a 7. The epidural was placed but was not kicking in.  I was begging for relief and asking for assurances that it was going to work before Nixon came.  After a couple bolus injections, I was finally numb.  It was good timing because I was now at a 10 and ready to push. Pushing was very similar to Metta's delivery.  I would push, they could see his head, they would applaud my efforts and tell me he was coming soon, but I just couldn't get his head under my pubic bone.  Pretty soon my toes started to wiggle and then I could feel my legs and then those blasted contractions.  And back I was to begging for some relief and crying.  The anesthesiologist was called back, he pushed another bolus, but nothing.  They gave me a shot of something else, but still nothing.  

At this point, my nurse got in my face and basically told me if I wanted the pain to stop I needed to dig deep and push this kid out.  So, I got angry and did just that. (I guess the anesthesia wearing off was a blessing because I don't think I knew how to push when I was numb)  Of course, the doc had left the building with the promise he was only sixty seconds away when the time came.  I wasn't allowed to push after I got his head somewhat out, which is torture in and of itself.  He was more than sixty seconds away and I let them know what I thought about that.  

After pain that I was not sure I could bear and some vomiting it wasn't long before Nixon came out. I got to cut the cord just like I did with the other three.  I swear Marcus was in the corner the whole time, but he promises me he was by my side for the most part.  I do remember begging for ice and Vaseline for my lips and it was placed in my hands by someone, so I guess I believe him.   

Nixon was a whopping 5 lbs 10.8 oz.  They placed this sweet boy on my chest and I cried and cried. It had seemed so traumatic (had I only known more trauma was to come) and I felt very emotional. His little head was misshapen and he appeared to have red hair..........what?!  Very unexpected and fun.  My doctor began massaging my uterus to expel the placenta.  This was unpleasant but not unbearable.  I just kept holding Nixon and crying out of relief and gratitude.  The massaging got more intense and I was asked if the nurses could take Nixon. I politely declined and told them holding Nixon was distracting me from kicking the doctor.  A few minutes later, I did hand over Nixon.  My placenta was attached to the uterus most likely due to the twin that died and adhered to the placenta wall.  The doctor was going to have to manually extract it. This is where things got ugly.  He tried a couple times to literally scrape it off with his fingertips.  It was unbelievable pain.  I was trying to get away from him by pushing myself further and further up the bed.  At one point, I kicked him in the face.  He stopped and called the anesthesiologist back in to give me pain meds. That didn't work.  I was bleeding out because they couldn't give me the pitocin to help my uterus contract and stop bleeding until the placenta came out.  I asked him how long it would take to get the placenta out.  He thought less than 60 seconds.  I told him to get it done and I would try my best to hold still.  It was terrible.  I cried and begged over and over for him to stop.  He was literally up to his elbow in me. My placenta was fundal which means it was up at the very top of my uterus and the top of my uterus was near my diaphragm.  You get the picture. Finally it was over.  I had bled a lot. Not enough for a blood transfusion, but darn close.  The next two days, I had a hard time walking because I was very light headed and weak.  But an iron transfusion and time healed all.

Nixon took to nursing right away just like Metta did.  And he was and still is pure heaven.  I'm a lousy calver and a self-proclaimed wuss, yet babies are so worth it.  I still can't believe I have 4 kids!

More and more sayings

I called Metta my "friend", she said, "I not a friend!  I a GIRL friend!"

Metta discovered a bag of her clothes she had outgrown and started crying.  She began yelling at me that I took her clothes and they weren't mine to take!  

A couple nights later, Marcus answered the door and bought some fundraiser thingy from a couple teenagers.  He paid with the checkbook in which Metta began crying and shouting that he was using "mommy's money" and he couldn't do that.  

Metta is quite observant.  She keeps a close eye on what shoes I wear and where I wear them.  If I wear my pair of tennis shoes that I normally wear to work at the hospital anywhere else, she asks, "why you wearing your hospital shoes?  You going to hospital?"  She does the same thing with church shoes.  

Zannah is having an excellent school year. After a couple years of reading struggles, something has clicked.  It has been wonderful! She reads without an all out fight each night and it is heavenly.  It has been a drama-free year in regards to friends and obedience at school too.  Or so I thought.  I ask daily how school was and what went on.  One day she said she had to wash lunch tables.  I asked her why. She said there was a food fight at lunch the day before and the principal was making them wash tables.  Whoa there, you went to the principals office I asked.  She simply said, "Yeah, but it's no big deal, we just talked it out.  I only handed out the orange peels that started the food fight." But, I'll take it, last year she was in the principals office for fighting on the playground. She couldn't understand why the girl she was fighting with (by fighting I mean slapping and pulling each others hair) was crying.  "We only had to stand on the wall for 10 minutes, it wasn't a big deal, but she just kept on crying."     

Max bounced out of the bathroom and exclaimed, "Mom! Satan was in my heart, but then Jesus pushed him out.  Not in a mean way though. But, Jesus pushed him out and I went back and washed my hands."  

Max said, "Mom, you're the best even though no one treats you like it."  

Primary Program Sunday

The best Sunday of the year is when the Primary (kids age 3-11) do a 45 minute program with singing and talking parts.  Some years you laugh until you cry and this year I did so because of one of my children.  Max sang his heart out.  And I mean sang as loud and boisterous as possible.  When he hit a verse he didn't know well, the song dropped noticeable decibels and when he came in on the chorus part again, your heart and ear drums soared.  It was the best.  

Zannah was asked to talk about a time when following the prophet blessed her life.  She told this story from heart, "President Monson has asked us to pray to Heavenly Father and have faith He will answer our prayers.  Last year I lost my wallet.  I looked and looked and couldn't find it.  So I prayed a lot and one day I was walking in my room and looked on my table and found my wallet!  Heavenly Father answered my prayers just like President Monson said he would."   My dad got a kick out of this story.  He asked Z how often she cleaned her room.  

Moody Max but He is Still Funny

Max is either going through a phase or a new baby is throwing him off because he has thrown some whopper fits lately.  But, he still cracks us up:

The kids were playing outside on a cooler summer day (72 degrees), Max ran inside and grabbed his winter coat.  I told him it wasn't that cold outside and he replied, "It is cold to me because I have black skin.  Black skin gets colder than your skin."

At my parents house, Max was overly tired at dinner time and refused to eat what had been made. We all kept asking him to eat it or pick something else to eat before bed.  Here were his replies, "I don't want to eat it, I just am hungry for food!!  I don't want anything to eat, but I just want something!"

Breastfeeding a baby every two hours triggers many questions for the kiddos.  Max was running out the door for swim lessons in his swim trunks.  He didn't have a shirt on, he turned around and asked if it was okay for boys to go outside without their shirts on.  I assured him it was.  He said, "But people are going to see my nibbles!"  Yes he calls them nibbles and after many corrections I have given up.

He randomly says, "Mom guess what?  I love Nixon with ALL my heart."

 

 

Sayings

Me: want to help me make Christmas treats?  I need a good stirrer.
Max: I'd be honored.  I'd delight to if I can watch a movie too.

Zannah was sleeping on our bedroom floor. I commented on a hair that I could feel tickling my nose but I couldn't find it and it was driving me nuts.
Zannah: Is it one of your chest hairs?
Marcus and Z laughed about that one for a good while.

Marcus, Zannah, and I were watching the movie "God is Not Dead".  Someone was not acting the way we think they ought to and Zannah said, "That is vile!"

Max (out of the blue while driving in the car):  Hey mom! Aren't you glad we have food and drinks or BOOM ENCHILADA you're dead!

Max (again out of the blue):  Mom, I'm so excited! One day I'm going to meet a really, really kind girl to marry.

Max to Marcus before he left on a business trip: When you are in Texas this week, if you eat anything yummy, could you save some for me?

Max After dropping a grape on the floor and seeing that Marcus was watching him: What? You know I like eating off the floor.

Metta yelling in the middle of the night "Marcus!  Marcus!"

Most of the time if you ask Metta if she needs to poo, she responds, "No Thank You"

If you say Hey Dude to Met, she says: I not Dude!!  I  Mettas!

I was having Max do some dribbling drills with a basketball. Mi told him once he got those down he can practice dribbling with his eyes closed to learn how to not watch the ball while dribbling.  He must have thought that when you get bigger that is how you play because he said: Yeah, when I can't see my teammates to pass them the ball because our eyes are closed I will just sniff them out.  I have a really good sniffer.