A Brief History of Benjamin Armstrong So Far: Part 1

I had to go back and read my previous post because it had been so long since I looked at this blog that I couldn't remember the last thing I had written.  So much time has passed, and so much has happened, that it would be laughable for me to try to catch things up in any consequential way.  I have decided to try and cover the highlights from Ben's birth to now in a series of posts to keep any one post from turning into a novel.  This post will cover Ben's arrival.  This is going to be a walk down memory lane for me too, since I haven't had a chance to organize my thoughts and memories until now.  I will try not to go on forever :)

Just as had happened with Will, the night before the c-section I was sure I wouldn't sleep at all.  And just as with Will I slept soundly.  I think the body just takes over and says "you have way too much to do to worry instead of sleep".  I wish that would happen more often.  We were up early the next morning and I got to cuddle Will for a little bit before we left.  I gave him my pillow to sleep with since I was going to be gone for a few days.  (He still has it.)  I have to admit that I was pretty emotional. I felt like I was about to betray him a little.  I knew I was about to change his world in a major way that he would not really understand.  He had been the only little guy in our lives and he was about to lose that status.  I would imagine most parents experience the same moments of sadness and guilt I felt when a new baby is about to come into the home.  He mostly looked at me like I was very strange and went on as usual.  He was more excited to go play at his friend Jake's house than anything else.  

So we dropped Will off with our friend Julie and made our way to the hospital.  Unlike our first delivery day, when we were extremely early, traffic snarled and we were actually late by about 15 minutes.  I HATE being late, so that didn't help to calm me at all.  But they took it in stride and immediately led us to the surgery prep room and began the ridiculously long paperwork. I forgot my wallet at home, which gave me another goose of adrenaline that I didn't need while wondering if they would send us home to retrieve it, which they did not thankfully.  

I got changed and loaded onto the gurney (loaded is the closest I can come to describing what it is like to get a large woman carrying a child the size of a VW Bug onto a table just wide enough to hold Kate Moss) and then came my least favorite part of the ENTIRE day.  I hate IVs.  HATE them.  My few and faithful regular readers have been informed of this fact on a couple of occasions now, and my hate has not lessened in the time since.  But a miraculous thing happened.  I got a nurse who was capable and NOT AT ALL BUBBLY.  For those who know me at all, I am a talker.  Get me nervous and I cross right over to a babbler, a nervous, non-stop, stream of consciousness spouter of nonsense.  I always hope to have a happy, cheerful nurse to join in my babble, because I think it will help me.  I learned that day how wrong I have been all this time.  What I need to stay calm is someone who is older than me, extremely capable, calm, and not at all swayed or impressed by my babbling, constant questions, and whiny requests.  The first couple of times she left the room to grab something I made comments to Eli about her lack of bedside manner.  By the time she was putting in my IV I was grateful for her ability to intimidate me and her lack of interest in engaging in conversation.  I know this seems backwards, and I certainly wouldn't want this particular personality to handle my recovery care, but God bless this woman for being the introvert she is.  I sailed threw my IV and didn't even have the shakes.  

The next 30 minutes or so was basically a waiting game.  The anaesthesiologist stopped in to go over what she was going to do (In retrospect I did not pay enough attention to this discussion.  More on that later.) and my doctor stopped in as well.  On her way out to prep she asked us to guess about the weight.  I can't remember what Eli and I guessed, other than we were both in the 10 lb range.  Dr. V guessed 11 lb, 1oz, and I remember being a little pouty because I didn't want her thinking Ben was going to be so big.  Boy was I in for a shock.

Finally it was time, and the nurses wheeled me into the operating room.  The epidural was not nearly as scary this time, and I had the presence of mind to get situated on the table BEFORE I lost all feeling from the chest down.  I remember more of the surgery this time, which isn't saying much considering with Will I was basically passed out most of the time.  Other than having the shakes I was actually pretty comfortable.  We had a few bad minutes just after they got Ben out.  As a mom, you are just waiting to hear that  first cry.  Well, I didn't hear anything, and only knew he was out because I saw a nurse carry him over to the warmer. I kept asking if he was ok, and they would just say they were working on him.  Eli was allowed over there so I knew they weren't in emergency mode yet, but it is still very scary to know something isn't right.  It took a couple of minutes, but I finally heard that wonderful, mad little cry.  They told me afterwards that he was completely non-responsive.  His only sign of life was a heartbeat.  No breathing, no muscle control, bad color, the works.  They bagged him for a couple of minutes and roughed him up a little, and suddenly he got the hint and woke up.  They watched him for another minute or two, but it was clear he was just slow to get going- again like his brother, if a little more dramatic.  I once again thank God that Eli is both calm and very smart.  He knew what was happening, and I know he was scared too, but he was a trooper and kept me calm and stood right there with our boy until he was ok.

Eli then got to follow the nurse out to the little room adjacent to the operating room to see Ben get weighed and measured.  I couldn't see them to know when they came back in, and to be honest I was distracted by the fact that the Dr. was requesting some dye to insert into my bladder to make sure I didn't have a leak.  Ben had compressed several of my internal organs and they just wanted to make sure I was in good working order. (I am.) Next thing I hear is one of the nurses saying "11, 12" and I wondered what they were counting.  Turns out they were telling the room my son's weight.  Yes, 11 POUNDS and 12 OUNCES.  The entire room, including me and my doctor, began exclaiming over the size of this boy.  No one was expecting an almost 12 lb baby.

So, the doctor was finishing up with me when I began to feel pretty nauseous.  Remember that talk with the anaesthesiologist I should have paid more attention to?  Well in that talk, she told me she would be giving me a cocktail of pain medicine along with the epidural to help manage my pain once the epidural wore off, which sounded fabulous to me.  My mistake was not following up that information by asking what kind of cocktail. I cannot take pretty much any narcotic pain killer without getting very loopy and throwing up.  Turns out my cocktail was Demerol and morphine, so on my way out of the operating room a nurse was holding one of those little crescent shaped bowls to my mouth so I could be sick.  I spent the next 4 hours or so barely being able to keep my eyes open, except for every 15 minutes or so when I would get sick.  I am very thankful for 2 things: first that you can't eat anything for 12 hours before surgery, and second, the the epidural kept me from feeling any of my stomach spasms.

After 4 hours of being a space cadet and being sick every 15 minutes (while also trying to hold and nurse my baby in between) I passed out for a couple of hours.  When I woke up, I was clear-headed and my nausea was gone, but my right arm was swollen.  Very swollen.  Swollen like someone had hooked me up to a basketball pump and gone crazy.  Turns out that sometime in my sleep I jarred my IV just enough that it wasn't flowing properly.  Thankfully, they decided that I didn't have to have a new IV put in, so I just spent the next 12 hours wrapping towels around a very sore arm.

While all this was going on, I did still get a chance to examine my new little guy.  Well, little is a relative term. Ben's hair was much lighter and there was less of it than his brother had at birth.   He was fantastically chubby, quite pink, and his general expression at that point made him look like an angry trucker.  He was beautiful. :)

The rest of the that hospital stay was pretty uneventful.  Despite the my disaster of a delivery day, I actually recovered very quickly, and was up walking around without much discomfort the next morning.  I was evidently doing quite well the next day- the on-call doctor had to recheck my chart to verify that I had in fact had a c-section, because I wasn't acting like I had.  My dad came in that weekend and braved taking care of Will overnight on his own that first night for us.  Eli brought Will to see us on Sunday, and I will be forever grateful that my Dad had the video camera going when Will saw his brother for the first time.  I could not have asked for a sweeter introduction if I had choreographed it.  Will was instantly in love and climbed right onto the bed with us and gave his brother a big kiss.

So much for being brief- but this may be my one opportunity to write all of this down, and I don't want to neglect details for the sake of brevity.  There is much more to tell, and I will try to get another chapter in our saga written before another 5 months passes by.  

The Home Stretch

Again two weeks has passed since I last wrote, and those two weeks have been very full indeed.  To follow-up on my last post, I did get to see The Dark Knight Rises about a week after I wrote, and was so glad that I did.  I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, even despite the fact that about 35 minutes in, someone thought it would be a funny prank to bang loudly on the exit door of the theater.  It is amazing how stupidly people can behave.

As of the moment I write this, I have 14 days, 13 hours, and 5 minutes until my scheduled c-section begins and Ben enters this crazy world.  Most of my energy this last two weeks has been dedicated to the normal care of Will and preparing the house for our new arrival.  The nesting instinct has been very strong this time, perhaps more obviously because we are not just settling into this house as we were with Will.  We decided to purchase a new crib, as the old one was a drop-side that had been modified and rattled, and the rails were covered with chew marks from Will's teething.  (Will the Woodchuck)  We finally got it put together this past weekend, so the nursery actually looks like a room for a baby to sleep in and not storage.  I have washed baby clothes, organized closets, cleaned baby gear, stocked the changing tables, set up the bassinet,  and worked my way through a huge laundry list of chores that I feel compelled to have complete before leaving for the hospital.

I should mention I have not done this alone.  Eli has been drafted into many chores and thankfully takes my nesting very gracefully.  On top of my flurry of home activity, we also had Vacation Bible School for four consecutive nights, and while I ran registration, Eli soldiered through with my not quite 3-year-old, who as you can imagine was not focused enough to sit through all the activities quietly and calmly.  I have also continued my daily visits to the YMCA, and thank goodness for yoga and water pilates for keeping swelling to a minimum and my range-of-motion and general mobility much better than I could have hoped for.

On the fun side, I have also enjoyed an hour-long massage (Not  suggested, but required by my husband for me to get at least one before and one after delivery.  Isn't my life terrible :) )  and I got to go on a girl's night out with a couple of friends to the Melting Pot, another first for me.

So busy, busy, busy- and not surprisingly there have been many nights that I would have liked to write but was too tired to think (or move from the couch without assistance).  I  am so excited to meet my new little guy.  I am nervous too, but thankfully this time the nerves are well-balanced with my happiness and excitement.  I am beyond grateful that Eli will be able to be home longer this time, for so many reasons.  I am  looking forward to watching Will meet his brother, with all the normal highs and lows that will bring.  Mostly I think I am looking forward to not jumping into the abyss so blindly.  I have no illusions that I am going to suddenly know everything the little guy needs unfailingly or instantly, but I don't think I have experienced anything scarier that the first 4 days we were home with Will.  Part of that is postpartum hormones racing through the bloodstream, but the rest is blind terror at the realization that you are responsible for a life and have no idea how to take care of it.  I can't control the hormones this time, but hopefully experience will help temper things a bit.

So the countdown is on.  It is constantly in the back of my mind, which, as you can imagine, makes every minute drag.  So I am going to continue to try and stay as busy as possible.  Will automatically keeps me reasonably busy, and add in the Y and play dates with friends and church activities I am going to try to keep my eyes (and my mind) off the clock as much as possible.

14 days, 12 hours, and 33 minutes.  :)

New Battery, sad day

I am back on the information super highway thanks to quick ordering by my husband and the resulting new battery and power supply.  I still have all those wonderful, fun things to talk about, but my thoughts are not on them.  I just want to ramble for a moment about the news I have taken in today about the shooting in Colorado.

There is no sense to be made from a senseless act.  We are human, and therefore will try to make dots connect whether they do or not because we want most of all to understand things that scare us and feel like we have some amount of control.  I have already read commentaries that either place blame or defend any number of variables from last night's attack that will inevitably come under scrutiny.  I am not interested in placing blame on anything or anyone other than the individual that committed this act.  There will undoubtedly be circumstances uncovered about this person that will provide one label or another for his actions.  Regardless of those labels, I know that he ultimately is the only responsible party.  I am sad for his family, and beyond sad for those who were victimized by his actions- directly or indirectly.

I am also sad because this shooting has placed a dark cloud over a favorite pastime for so many in our country and around the world.  I know reasonably and calmly that this act could have taken place in any number of places, but the fact is it happened in a movie theater; a place where, more than most others, we choose to lower our barriers and lose ourselves in a story, collectively making ourselves vulnerable.  It is a wonderful form of escape and one that I have loved since I was a kid.  And while I am absolutely a supporter of not letting bad events or bad people take things from us because of fear, I can't help but feel some reservation returning to a theater in the near future.  I really don't think that the shooting last night was anything but the random act of a disturbed person, but sitting here 8 1/2 months pregnant, I can't help but imagine the unthinkable, and wonder if it is the most responsible thing to do on my part.

As I arranged my mat and prepared for my yoga class to begin this morning, I started thinking to myself about what I would do if someone violent came into the space I was in.  I visualized multiple scenarios and thought about what I would do.  I know that this sounds very paranoid and a little crazy, and I can't say that I don't agree.  The saddest part of this confession however is the fact that I have run through these kinds of scenarios in my head for years.  And I am not alone.  Since the shooting in Paducah in 1997, when I was a sophomore, and then again in 1999 when the Columbine shootings took place, I have had these scenarios run through my head, and even had group conversations with my friends about what we would do should something like that happen.  Every couple of years another horrible event takes place that causes these imaginings to re-emerge.  Of course, the imaginings run from blatant survival to heroic acts.  It is a sad reality of the kids of my generation and those generations following that we have good reason to think about these things.  When I was in college I became friends with a guy who I later found out had been hurt in the Paducah shooting, and whenever something like this happens I think about him and wonder what his thoughts are.  He is an extremely intelligent and calm person, one I admire very much, and while I know he has the maturity and presence of mind to handle these horrible things (probably more than most) I hate to think of him hurting again because he really knows what it is like to be in that situation.

I am not sure I am making much sense, but I needed to vent a little of what I have been thinking about this today.  I am still really excited to see The Dark Knight Rises, as I have been a fan of the series and have my theories about how the film will bring the trilogy to a close.  I just need to think a little longer about when and how I am going to see the movie.  I feel so much for those who were attacked in that theater, and pray for them and their families.  I hope they can get the help they need and the support they deserve.

The Computers Hate Me

I am stealing Eli's work laptop to quickly update for my dear readers.  I haven't forgotten you.  I have many topics that I would like to ponder in this space but for one obstacle.  The computers in this house HATE me.  Eli would argue that they hate him too, but he does still have his fabulous, MOBILE work computer to work with.  Both our home laptop and desktop have gone on strike, and it will be some time before an agreement can be reached( agreement being us forking over the funds to fix the fickle things).  I am not completely without means of communicating with the world wide web, but my Kindle Fire is a browser, and not great for any kind of serious typing.   So please know this isn't me slacking- I would love to tell you about my cupcake successes of late, the adventure of preparing the house for a second child, and the antics of my almost 3-year-old, just to name a few.  As soon as possible I will share.  I may be able to steal this marvelous machine again soon with more time to write.  Meanwhile, I am reading the posts of my fellow friend/bloggers, and will try to catch up on commenting soon as well.

In case you think I've forgotten...

I promise I haven't.  Forgotten to write that is.  Just went through one of those periods when I have more to do than time to do it.  And if you dear readers will be patient with me for just a couple more days, I will have plenty to share.  I have cupcakes to share, as well as decorating stories (with pictures!). Just wanted to check in though and say I am still here and haven't abandoned this blog yet again.

My Giant Little Baby

So today we had our 28-week appointment, and an ultrasound to get a size estimate.  I love any opportunity to  see my little guy, and today we had the added bonus of getting a 3D photo of Ben's face.  We never had a 3D image of Will, so it was very exciting to see one of Ben.  His little face is so cute!  His eyes were closed and his little lips were all puckered up.  He put on a bit of a show for the ultrasound tech, rolling and kicking whenever she would get a good shot.  It seems he never stops moving!

For those of you who don't remember, Will was an exceptionally large baby.  10 lb, 7 oz at birth.  Yes, I did type that correctly.  There is a reason my son came through the sun roof.  And before you ask me in your head, no, I did not have gestational diabetes, and Will had no blood sugar issues after birth.  He was just a big baby.  He has never been below the 99th percentile in height, though his weight percentile has been on a gentle decline throughout his life.  All these factors are the reason I had an ultrasound today.  My doctor, whom I love dearly, made an educated guess that our next child could likely be large.  And since I was hoping for a VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section) delivery, keeping up with the size of this child is important.

So we got in the ultrasound room and our tech started getting measurements.  Two pictures in she said, "Yeah Mom, he is going to be big".  And I just sort of sighed and rolled with it.  As she continued to take measurements we got to see our perfect little guy.  She commented multiple times on how good everything looked, and when I asked she pointed out that there was no fat accumulated on the baby.  She indicated several areas where fat pads develop later in pregnancy, and there was no fat to find, which was fabulous news.  If there had been fat accumulation she would have been concerned about my blood sugar.  She told me, "you have no control over this.  It is genetic- you just make big babies".  The best part was I knew she was telling me the truth.  I love our ultrasound tech as much as our doctor, and while she is a lovely, kind woman, she would have no problem telling me if she thought something wasn't right.

So at this point Ben is measuring 4 weeks larger than he is.  After the ultrasound I had my regular appointment, which also went well.  We decided that unless something changes pretty significantly in the next month, we are going to have another c-section.  I am a little sad about this, but I know that my safety and Ben's is most important.  And the up side is that if we do have a c-section I can schedule it a week before my due date- makes things easier on me and gives Ben one less week to become giant-sized in my womb.

I am a little bummed about how things have turned out because I have been working so hard to exercise and control my weight-gain with this pregnancy, and ultimately it didn't change the outcome.  I don't regret the work because of the health benefits we have both received, but it is frustrating not to be able to control this more.  On the other hand, I do not feel guilty.  When I found out Will was big, I was devastated, and felt so guilty.  I transferred a lot of my unhappiness about my body image and weight to guilt that I was making Will unhealthy, which turned out to be completely wrong, but I couldn't see that until much later.  This time I know I have done everything I could to be healthy, and I can hear what my doctors are telling me and know it to be the truth.  Eli sat there today and kept smirking at me and wiggling his eyebrows and when I would ask him what he was doing he would crow about making big strapping boys and swelling with macho pride. I am taking my cue from him and will proudly tell anyone interested about my giant little baby.

A half a year gone, and look what happens

Two friends, one a long-time blogger and one just starting, have by example made it clear to me that I have neglected this blog for far too long. One friend decided to start a blog to remove herself from the Facebook craziness and share her family adventures with friends, and another has returned after a rough patch of dissatisfaction with her creative direction and loss of motivation. Both write for different reasons, but both have committed to writing consistently, which has inspired me to get back on the horse.


 The last time I wrote, I was welcoming the beginning of a new decade of my life. What I did not mention in that post was that Eli and I were also beginning the journey to welcoming a new life into our lives. On my birthday I was just shy of 6 weeks pregnant, the tiny life so new that we had not yet been to our first prenatal checkup. My excitement about this pregnancy was and is beyond description. We had a long road of trying and disappointment leading to this new life, and the relief of success and joy following is such a gift. 


Pregnancy has been good the second time around, though more different than I would have suspected. Unlike my first pregnancy, I have had a multitude of symptoms to deal with, including 3 months of morning, afternoon, and evening sickness. Yuck! Aside from said sickness, none of the other symptoms have been particularly bad, though my repressed immune system has made allergy season much, much worse than normal for me. I have such sympathy now for those who go deal with severe allergies every year. I don't know how I would cope.


 One of the good differences about this pregnancy is my exercise routine. When pregnant with Will, there basically was no routine between working until 7 months along and then moving to a new city almost 1000 miles away from our apartment in Baltimore. This pregnancy I have been at the YMCA as much as possible. In the first 2 trimesters I was there 5 days a week more often then not. These last 3 weeks have not been as good because of travel and appointments, but I am back in gear this week and plan to continue this routine through the end of the pregnancy. I feel so much better and have not gotten nearly as big as I did the first time around. May I just ask, where has yoga been all my life? I scoffed at yoga for years but have now seen the light. I have a yoga class every day of the week and it is my favorite activity by far.


We found out in mid-March that our new bundle is a little boy! Will is going to have a baby brother, and I may apply for combat pay. :) In all seriousness though, I am delighted to have another little boy. Before we knew, when asked Eli and I would both say it would be nice to have a girl, to have one of each. And there was plenty of talk about how wonderful a little girl could be. When the ultrasound tech was taking the images, she initially thought we had a girl, only to correct herself two minutes later when the umbilical chord moved out of the way. If there was ever a sure-fire way to know if you truly had a preference, that would be it. Thankfully, I was just as happy to learn he was a boy as when I thought he was a girl.

                                                             Baby Boy at 21 weeks


 Choosing a name for this little guy was a bit more of a process than with Will. Will's name had been decided upon long before he even existed. This time, we had plenty of girl names ready, but not another boy name. I went though one of those giant baby name books and made a list, then made Eli do the same thing without seeing my list. The list of common names between the two lists was depressingly short, so it sat untouched. The day we found out the gender, while we were waiting for the doctor, I asked Eli what he thought about Benjamin. Eli, in his customary way, thought for a quiet minute, then said he liked it just fine. A few weeks later, after learning that Benjamin happens to be a family name on Eli's mom's side of the family, we agreed on a middle name from my side of the family. Benjamin Armstrong Roberson is what we decided upon, and Will very gladly will tell you that "Baby Ben" is in my tummy.


Speaking of Will, good grief is he growing up fast.  He is all boy, and such a talker!  ( I know, big surprise he is a talker, he is my child.)  He loves to play pretend and lines all his toy vehicles up to make them into one huge train.  He is currently obsessed with the movie Cars, and runs around the house quoting lines from the movie.  Potty training is happening slowly but surely,  probably more slowly than necessary but that is totally on Momma and Daddy.  He graduated to a toddler bed in early  March, and has done much better than I could have hoped.  We still find him sleeping under the bed fairly regularly, but he is staying out of things for the most part. He likes to tell stories and play at the park, and he absolutely knows how to turn up the cuteness factor to try to get what he wants.  Will is also going through what I am told is the typical emotional, dramatic 2-year-old phase.  Everything is either a huge joy or a huge tragedy.  We get several mini-meltdowns on any given day.  The funny thing is if you can get a word in edgewise to tell him what is going on, he normally calms right down.  I will offer something and he will scream and moan " I don't WANT that!!", and if I can get through the noise enough to remind him he isn't being forced and ask him how to say it nicely, he will calm down immediately and say "no thanks, Momma."  


 In a couple of weeks my best friend will be coming to visit in order to paint the spare room to become Will's new room.  We are going to decorate it with Thomas the Tank Engine decals and the walls will be painted sky blue and grass green.  I think it is going to be great, and I know Will is going to love it.  We will also be adding a waterfall to the murals in the nursery, along with a big turtle with Ben writing in the shell markings.  Plans for these rooms have caused me to start nesting early, and I know I am driving Eli out of his mind.  But I get so anxious worrying about all the things around the house that I want done before Ben arrives, because I know it will be months before we are really back to any kind of normal once he arrives.  I got in such a tizzy Saturday that Eli let me have my way, but only once I promised that Sunday afternoon I would take a break and go see a movie in order to protect every one's mental health.  I agreed, and as usual in these situations, Eli was right.  


That is as much as i think goes in this particular blog.  I have several entries under the topic of baking, and books I have read that I will share shortly, and if I am a slacker please feel free to call me on it.  I truly want to be more consistent with this blog.