Exciting times!

Meet Baby Brynn!  She's a little peach!  Clocking in at 7 lbs, 4 oz., she's healthy and beautiful, and judging by the picture, slightly confused.  Where am I and who are these people?  Don't worry, Brynn.  We're all confused.

Brynn is the brand new daughter of one of my FAITHFUL readers and friends.  The lady can quote my blog better than I can- and I lived it!  I'll start telling her something that happened to me, and she'll finish my story.  It makes me feel good!  I'm glad I'm so interesting!  Moreover, I'm glad someone can get something out of all these ramblings.

So for those who are keeping score, out of my five pregnant friends, three have had viable pregnancies and this is the first birth.  Two more to go!  What an exciting time.  They're all huge and uncomfy, and I just smile, because it's a right of passage.  They're all going to make great mothers.

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Meanwhile, we're planning a first birthday party.

Why is this so important?

He doesn't care.  Liam's oblivious.

But this is some huge deal for us as parents!  What is it about this day that makes it so essential to throw this huge bash?  We've chosen a theme, we've bought the cake (a small cake...) from the most exclusive bakery in Dauphin County.  (Why?  We have no money.  Why was that important?)  And tonight I am penning tiny invitations to send to his tiny friends.  Friends?  More like Mommy and Daddy's friends, who happen to have kids at or around his age.

This is probably more of a celebration of us as parents- look!  We put our mind to it and we made a baby and had a baby and kept that baby, for a WHOLE YEAR!  Look what we did!  Pay no attention to the drool coming from our mouths from months and months of multiple mid-night awakenings.  Please do not pull back the curtain and reveal the fights and arguments we've had on multiple occasions.  Look not in the closet and betray the stack of unpaid bills as we've tried to make ends meet week after week, month after month.  Just eat our cake and look at our adorable son!

But as I make the guest list and hand out food responsibilities and put together the little details that make a party great, I look at my little Liam and think- nah, it really is all about you.  Your birthday stands as an example of all the lives you've touched, just by being the wonderful you that you are.  People are genuinely excited to see you grow.  People love YOU.  And this first birthday party is a celebration of your accomplishments and a celebration of one year of sharing in a miracle.

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A lady came up to me at church- I sadly did not know this lady, but BOY did she sure know me.  She said to me, "You were JUST pregnant, and now he's WALKING."  And she was totally right.  IF you want to know how fast life moves, have a child.  Brynn will teach her mommy and daddy this, starting with her first breath at 2:04 yesterday afternoon. 

Discipline

Now that we have a walker, life has gotten a TON more complicated.  It's funny because he looks to little to walk!  I guess that's what happens when you're an over-achiever.  Today Liam turns 11 months.  Can you believe it?  When I think to where I was last year; huge belly, buying new maternity clothing so I could cover said belly, waddling around like a momma duck...  it all seems like it never happened.  I see myself in pictures.  Obviously I have a son to show for it.  But I largely forget my pregnancy.

I hinted at this in my last blog post.  How your brain forgets things because there's too much going on NOW, and it crowds out the other thoughts.  Some call this "baby brain" and I largely agree!  Like when you're standing there, trying to carry on an adult conversation and the word you want to say just isn't coming to you.  And you stand there and you blabber like a fool until you finally just say, "I'm thinking the word I want is 'exhibitionist' but I'm really not sure..."

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Liam has started walking and talking (he says the word 'keys,' among others.  Who says 'keys' and not 'momma'???) and that means he's started to getting into trouble.  As we all know, when our kids start to get into trouble, we as parents have to start disciplining. 

Blah.

Liam's a biter.  If you're not giving him 100% of your attention, and he feels he NEEDS 100% of your attention?  Bite.  We've taken to pinching his cheeks and counting to three, stating, "No biting!"  But most of the time he thinks it's funny, so it hasn't really worked.

The other night he pulled down a ceramic picture frame after we had told him and removed him from the area three times.  Of course the frame smashed into many smaller pieces and is now unable to be salvaged.  Andy raised his voice with him and we told him that what he did was bad.  He put his little head down on the floor.  My heart broke.  It occurred to me at that moment that we make or break our children through discipline.  Too much of it, and they become hard and callused.  Too little of it and they become bratty and bold.

We tried to describe what we were doing while I was cleaning it up.  "Mommy has to clean up this mess because Liam didn't listen and this broke."  "See Daddy's face?  It's sad because Liam didn't listen."  I scooped him up and put him to bed early. 

Andy immediately text me from downstairs.  "I yelled at our son."  I assured him it was okay, "I don't think you yelled at him.  I think you used a stern voice."  "But I got upset with him."  "And we don't want a brat, so it's okay."

There's this line that you walk when you discipline an infant.  You want the punishment to fit the crime, and they technically don't know what they're doing.  So you have to describe to them why what they did was wrong and how you're feeling about it.  Why don't we do that as adults?

"Honey, I am angry because you did not take the trash out.  Do you see my face?  My eyebrows are furrowed.  I have a frowny face.  Can you watch me take the trash out first thing in the morning, making me late for work?  When we don't do what we're told, there are consequences.  You will go to bed half an hour earlier tonight."

Oh, and there would NEVER be a text typed in a million YEARS, "I yelled at my wife. :(  "  "I  raised my voice to my husband.  :-/  "  No way!  We'd text, "Another fight."  "He raised his voice with me again."  So why is it so different with our kids?

Maybe it's because they're so tiny and vulnerable.  Maybe it's because we are in the business of teaching our kids to behave, where with our spouses we feel they should already just KNOW.  There really aren't any answers I can give here without the appropriate degree.  I answer phones for a living, not solve people's problems. 

Discipline is HARD but it's NECESSARY.  I'm sure over the years there will be many more stories where this one came from.

I Say a Little Prayer for You

There are certain things in life that leave such an impression on you, that you literally never forget them.  Moments that are forever seared in your mind, and if you go there mentally from time to time, everything about that moment just comes RUSHING back to you.

There are certain things in life that your mind just completely erases, and no matter how hard you try, you can't remember any details from that moment in time.  Maybe it's a defense mechinism?  Maybe it's your brain trying to protect your heart?  Whatever it is, try as you may, you just blank.

I found this out about birth.  I've got three friends who are all due within one month of each other.  We are on full term baby watch for Friend #1, and #2 and #3 will follow in suit.  They're asking me questions about labor and delivery and how this felt and how that felt, and I am seriously wracking my brain to try and remember the answers to all their questions.

I told friend #3- you know, you're going to forget too.  As soon as your little girl comes into the world and you heal physically and emotionally, your life is going to take off and you're going to forget what all this felt like.  You won't forget the big stuff!  But the little stuff is going to take a back seat.  This is probably why people procreate multiple times- because the brain lets you forget the bad and concentrates on the good.

Last weekend we were in our Sunday morning class at church, and we disclosed the MS diagnosis to those in it.  It was a very emotional time for Andy and I.  He sat there an held my hand, tears pouring down his cheeks, as I recounted the last month of testing and retesting and IV's and steroids and pain.  We had truly suffered together- he emotionally and me physically. 

The class, along with our pastor, gathered around us and laid hands on us and prayed for healing and strength.  For a pasture in this valley.  And for all the pain and for all the tears that were yet to come as we traveled this path together.

Right now, as I'm sitting here, I can see the pictures of my arm with that nasty, bloody IV in it.  I can picture myself laying on the metal table with the needle in my back.  But it all seems like a distant memory now.  So many things have taken place since then, my mind has just blocked it out.

And never, EVER, underestimate the power of prayer.  Even if you're not a "church-goer"- who cares.  Pray about something and then release it.  If you don't feel comfortable praying, ask someone to pray for you and then work into it.  I'm not mushy, gushy.  I don't do the rosary.  I don't understand deep theology.  I don't like to talk about religion.  I just know that when I'm hurting, it works.

Right now I have more important things to worry about than my MS.  Like how Liam hasn't slept since he was 8 months old.  Or how we've got a 1st birthday to plan!  But I know those memories will fade as well, as weeks turn into months, turn into years.  Who knows what's coming next?

Sensible Shoes

Steroids make you really really hot and sweaty.  And really, really irritable.  And they take away the filter on your mouth.  And they make you say things you regret.  They do help the MS- I'm back to full feeling in my leg, except for the front portion of my foot and toes.  I still have many more days of pills to take, so we're hoping for the best.

After all the "girl power" surrounding the lumbar puncture, it left me debilitated and run down.  The pain in my back was so excruciating, my mom had to drive me home because I was blind from the pain.  I cannot even tell you the mind numbing pain I was in on Friday.  It was like...  I can't even form words here.  I could not SEE.  I don't know what I was expecting, but I didn't stay on top of the pain.  I wasn't taking the meds until I felt the pain- instead of just getting on a regimen of one pill every 3-4 hours.  When I finally got to that point, that the meds were AHEAD of the pain instead of vice versa, I was able to function properly.  (Not before Liam fell from the middle step and bounced his way to the bottom...sigh.)

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I gave in this weekend and headed to Payless and bought myself some VERY sensible shoes.  I had to have something that strapped the entire way around my foot and was fairly flat.  And I wasn't paying more than $20.

The lines of shoes taunted me- great prices and cute styles.  Pumps and kittens and slings...it was all I could do to focus on the boxes that said "sensible!"  "comfort arch!" "old lady!"  "cankle!"  "birth control in a box!"  Of course the pair I settled with was completely out of my reach, and I was too embarrassed to ask for help.  A seemingly able bodied woman, asking for a clerk to reach something for her?  When the stool is LITERALLY right there?  No, I couldn't do it.

So of course I text Andy.  "I can't reach."  Sad face.  In he comes from the next store, reaches the shoes for me, without saying a word.  A well meaning clerk comes over, "Oh those look comfy!"  Shut your face, clerk.  (NO FILTER.  I BLAME THE 'ROIDS!)

 

The shoes helped me walk better from the get-go.  I was able to un-leech myself from Andy's arm.  I didn't walk out of my shoes.  My knee started to unlock itself.  Amazing what a little $20 pair of comfortable shoes can do for a girl like me.

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I'm a bridesmaid next month.  This weekend was the big shower, and I have to say, it went really well.

Here's Liam and I at said shower:

 

 

Vanity moment: My husband said I looked HOT.  Also, if you look under my left arm (the one NOT holding my son) you can see DAYLIGHT, which means I have my waistline back.  Which means I feel really really good about myself.  There's a lot to be said for that, at the moment.

 

Shout out:  Do what it takes to make yourself feel GREAT about yourself.  Write that novel.  Lose that weight.  Cut that hair.  Buy the shoes that allow you to walk.  Life is VERY VERY short.

Why I wore lingerie to my lumbar puncture...

 

Do you know your name?

 

-Yes.

 

Do you know why you're here?

 

-Yes.

 

Do you feel safe at home?

 

-Yes.

 

Do you have any questions?

 

-No.

 

I was asked these questions at least three times yesterday by three separate people at the hospital.  We arrived in Harrisburg at 7:30AM, after a quick breakfast stop at McDonalds.  I held Andy's hand the whole way there and the whole way in.

 

When I wake up and walk to the bathroom first thing in the morning, it's the first test of how the steroids worked the day before.  I woke up with about 85%-90% feeling in my right leg and I felt good enough to wear a shoe with a little heel. Not much. Just enough to make me feel feminine.  But it didn't stop me from clinging to him the whole time.

 

Before we left I put on a long black maxi dress over top of a teal under shirt, took off my wedding rings and my earrings and put on my makeup.  Underneath it all, I put on a pair of brand new undies and a nude/black push up bra.  Why not?  Who's going to see it?  Eyeliner and mascara, base and blush.  Out the door.

The phlebotomist was in training.  Poor, poor guy.  I open my sleeves and he sees all the scars from the last six days of steroid injections and IV drops and blood draws, and his hands start shaking.  I internally told myself to just calm down- that he wouldn't be there is he wasn't ready for an actual patient.  Just in case, I asked the older, wiser woman who was overseeing him to hold my hand.  She obliged and her hands were warm.  Tiny win.  And he did a great job!  I praised him highly as I was leaving.

After admission, I changed into the hospital gown and Andy folded my clothing on the bedside table.  Since he's a man, he didn't know to hide the bra.  That's what you do at the hospital and the doctors- you take off ALL your clothing, and then you hide your unmentionables.  But I left it go.  Because the push up bra signified that I was still me, I was still young, I was still sexy enough to wear lingerie to the hospital at 7:30 in the morning.  I cared about me.  Many would give up, but I would no be giving up.

The lumbar puncture was awful, but not that bad, all at the same time.  I'm actually in more pain now, just typing about it the day after.  The lady who did it- Lori- was pretty.  The aids were kind and funny.  I chatted about my son and my husband through the whole thing, trying not to think about the needle going in and the fluid going out.  Yes, I did cry a little, but it was more from the emotion of it all.  The MS.  The thought of the actual procedure.  The thought of what was to come and what used to be.

There's this common misconception that if you can give birth, you can do anything.  Not true.  There are different types of pain- physical, emotional, spiritual- they have their own qualities and their own trials.  Don't let anyone tell you that birth pains are the worst. 

When I came out, Andy was waiting for me.  Bless his heart.  I fell asleep and they woke me up to tell me I was okay to go.  Andy helped me put my clothing on, push up bra first ("That's upside down, sweetheart...okay, THERE you go.") And then the undershirt, and then the maxi dress, and then the itty bitty heals.  He has no idea that what I was wearing gave me such empowerment, even though he was the one dressing me.  We walked out hand in hand and went to get our son and go home to be a family.

Liam clung to me like a little koala while he was settling in last night.  We just let him sleep in bed with us.  Sometimes a little boy knows just what his mommy needs.

Humility 201

This is what steroid treatment looks like. 

This is what your entire family in RI looks like- as you're Skyping your son's first steps. 

This is what pure love looks like. 

For the past six days I've been undergoing this extreme steroid therapy to try and drive out the palsy that the MS is causing in my right leg. So far... Eh. The nurse comes every day. I take time off work- time I do not have pay for- and I lay there for an hour while the chemicals flow into my body and try their best to bring down the inflammation in my right leg. 

I get fairly drowsy after this and I have to relax for a bit, but sometimes I can go back to work. 

The problem lies that I can't bathe properly with that stupid IV in. And I hate to ask my husband for any help with this. So as soon as my mom got home from RI, I made the call. 

"Mom. I need a shower."

We wrapped up the arm and got to it. My mom made no big deal about it, just washed my mop of hair and scrubbed me with a loofah. I felt like a million bucks after she was done. 

Except that I was so vulnerable. I started to sob. I am a grown woman, with husband and son. And my mom is washing my rear end. When is her job over? When can I be a "big girl" and take care of myself? Has MS really robbed me of all of this?

My mom of course just held me when I cried. Dried off my leg. Combed my hair and helped me put on my night clothing. 

The IV is out now and I was able to shower on my own- but there's still this level of humility. That even though I am capable of being on my own, I still need an advocate. Just like my son needs me, I need my mom. And maybe there's a part of a mom who needs to be needed, no matter how old her "baby" is. 

I imagine it was hard for my mom to look at me. To be thinking- my perfect daughter whom I held in wonder 28 years ago, has suddenly been diagnosed with an incurable disease. 

What if I have to look at Liam in 28 years and think the same thing?

Time will tell. I am not MS. Is isn't going to define me. There's no way to know what the future holds so why dwell? For now, I'll watch Liam's first steps away from us and encourage him to run. Soon I'll run after him. 

There's a Monster in my Dining Room

Well THIS thing showed up last night.  Around 10PM, a white van pulled up to my house and a man deposited this into my hands and then left.  I sat it in the dining room and then stared at it.  My husband wrapped his arms around me and our son.  The blue bag has a five day dose of steroids that's supposed to just knock the pain and numbness in my leg clear out of the park.  A nurse will come administer it for the next five days- it will take about an hour every dose.

"I don't want to do this.  I don't want to have this."

"I know,"  Andy replied. "But what other choice do we have?"

"I can rewind time to Monday when I thought this was just a pinched nerve."

"No, no you really can't."

The few people I have told now look at me with sad puppy eyes.  EVERYONE apoligizes, like they feel guilty (but secretly glad it's not them.)  "I have MS."  "Oh!!!  Libbie I'm SO SORRY!"

And everyone wants to know how they can help.

"Well, how 'bout you reach in my brain and make all the spots go away?"

I'll be strong as soon as I'm not so sad.

The end.