Even the soap is bossy.
I am not well.
I have over 300 unread and unresponded to emails.
I collapsed in Cody’s arms today.
I kept thinking I could pull myself out. I just needed one more day.
But this isn’t going away this time.
And it’s bad.
Addie is witnessing it first hand, her empty shell of a mother.
Mozzi is living right in the middle of it.
And all Cody can do is watch.
But a doctor, a doctor can do more.
And that’s exactly where I’m headed.
Yeah, there’s probably a little emotional stuff going on. May as well not try to lie to myself or to you. It’s more of a SAD thing than a depression thing though. I don’t think Indy has made it above 20 in several weeks. At least not on the days I’ve gone outside. Good news is the snow has stuck around masking the dead brown that is Indiana in the winter, bad news, it hasn’t gotten above 20 in several weeks.
When I was pregnant with Addie I became the beacon of nestitude. I scrubbed tiny little half inch tiles with a toothbrush and Clorox bleach pen. I washed and folded tiny little baby clothes over and over. On December 13th I sat looking at my shower curtain thinking about how much I hated it. “There are going to be so many people coming over here and they’re all going to have to look at my ugly bleach stained shower curtain, this will not do.” So I packed up at 11 p.m. and headed out to buy a new shower curtain.
“When are you due?” asked the checker.
“Oh, um, tomorrow.” I replied.
I came home, hung the shower curtain, became wildly unhappy with the factory creases in it, took it down, ironed it, rehung it and went to bed around 1 a.m.
I woke up in labor just after 5 a.m. and I admired my new shower curtain the whole time I was getting ready to leave for the hospital.
Obviously, I’m now where near going into labor, but my closets are amazing. The transfer from regular clothes to maternity clothes has taken place. The bedding for my new bed (Thursday!) has been washed, ironed and folded. I arranged the bitty Addie clothes. I even allowed myself to purchase baby stuff yesterday. Because this is really going to happen.
Which brings me to the name thing.
Cody and I didn’t tell a soul what Addie’s name was going to be until after she was out. And sorry, but we’re going to be the same way this time. No amount of bribery will work. Besides, naming humans is hard. We had a hard enough time with the first one. And now we have to name a second one? Meh. That’s a lot of responsibility. How people can have their ultrasound and then announce “Sheboygan Follifuf Mullins will be born May 1” is beyond my realm of comprehension. What if Sheboygan comes out and resembles more of a Theodore than a Sheboygan? What if a CNN announces next month that there’s a serial killer on the loose named Sheboygan? Good luck living that one down.
Part of me still feels as though a boy is going to pop out next spring. The good news is that if that does happen? He’ll have his name already picked out. Sure, he’ll be sleeping in a pink bed in pink clothes for a few weeks, but he’ll totally have a name to go by.
Miss Mozzi Sheboygan. (subject to change…)
I was able to spend 36 hours in Chicago with my little family.
Even more specifically this man.
This Lego building, goofy face making, Coke drinking, pizza eating, little kid carrying, ice skater watching, best smelling, most comfortable man in my entire world. How I ended up with him, I don’t know. But I go to bed every night holding his hand thankful that I did.
And the pizza. Chicago and the pizza. Yes. Yes please.
We were surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people. But these two were the only ones I noticed. The big one that loves to swim, watch ESPN and eat omelets and the little one who had all her dreams come true when we let her hail and ride in her very first tacky. (What the rest of us call a Taxi, but I’m not about to correct her.)
Being away from the distractions of real life with these two, even if just for a few hours, allowed my tired, weary soul to rest. Like a nap but with better views and way better food. My heart is full, and even more importantly it is rested.
I am blessed.
For anyone who’s wondered if they’re the only one that has had to stay silent and focused on something while someone else was around so you wouldn’t start inconsolably crying? You’re not.
To anyone else who has wondered if they’re the only one who has held their breath while being hugged so that they wouldn’t have the breath to let a muffled sob? You’re not.
Choking back tears is exhausting. But sometimes letting them go is even more tiresome because once they come they won’t stop and most of the time you’re just left with itchy puffy eyes and a cry headache.
I’m not sure what’s happening to me this time around. Weather? Holidays? Pregnancy? Honest to goodness chemical imbalance knocked even more off balance by the previous three troubles?
I’m not afraid to ask for help and I’m not ashamed to accept it.
I just really wish I didn’t need it.
Today at 6:23 p.m. EST you turned six years old.
To be honest, the day could have ended better.
Thankfully, there are pictures that tell the story of a good day.
A story of balloons, sunshine, pancakes, pink cake and a little girl who received every gift her little heart could have ever dreamed of.
Hopefully these pictures will overshadow the grumpy ugliness and tears that ended the day. And next year you will look back at this year as your best birthday ever and you will go to sleep in anticipation on December 13, 2011 wondering how in the world your seventh birthday could ever outdo your sixth.
Until then, I love you, my beautiful, strong willed and spirited little daughter.
April 15, 2004, approximately 8:33 am began one of the worst sick days of my life. It was the first day hyperemesis kicked in while Miss AddieLaRue was cooking away in my tummy. The day involved several projectile vomits (one on a nurse who deserved it) an IV and an assurance that I had never, ever been that sick before in my entire life.
December 10, 2010, approximately 10:22 pm began what will hereto forth be known as the worse sick day of my life. Miss Mozzita (which let me assure you her real name will be far more elegant than her nickname) is the one currently cooking away when I am suddenly and overpoweringly hit with nausea.
I won’t be eating ice cream or olives anytime soon. I can assure you of that.
I dosed myself up with Zofran, chased it with a Phenergan and sent myself to bed.
What happened next, well.
Let’s just say that by 8 am the next morning I had already vomited every hour on the hour.
Final barf count at 1 pm? 17.
Seventeen.
I can assure you that vomiting seventeen times while twenty weeks pregnant will lead you to discover muscles you didn’t even realize you owned let alone used for things like breathing.
Or swallowing.
Or blinking.
What happened is gastroenteritis, which for most people means you feel pretty gross for about 24 hours and as long as you don’t eat or drink anything which exasperates the condition you’re golden albeit seven shades of green for the day.
However I am a pregnant lady who doesn’t do so well if I don’t eat.
Talk about damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
I wonder if Cody even remembers what his healthy wife looks like anymore.
Long story short I made it out alive and spent today feeling as though I had been run over by a bus and then beat up by a hundred very angry people. Mozzita? Bounced away the entire time, as if to say “SEE MOM? I’M FINE! BOUNCE BOUNCE BOUNCE! ARE YOU BEGINNING TO BELIEVE ALL THOSE NURSES THAT SAID BABIES ARE LIKE PARASITES? FEEDING OFF THEIR HOST BODY EVEN IF THEIR HOST BODY IS DYYYYING?”
The day ended with a fever, half of a bagel and a late night showing of “Meet me in St. Louis.” I have a very soft spot for old musicals.
My award still hasn’t arrived for surviving yesterday but I figure it has to be the weather that’s slowing everything down.
Yeah, that’s it.
Girl!!
(a perfectly healthy right on schedule has all her parts in the proper places girl!!)
ETA May 1, 2011.
xoxo
A) Please be healthy above anything else.
B) Please throw caution to the wind when it’s time for the money shot.
C) Please forgive me if I cry. A lot.
xoxo
