Finally.

I KNEW something wasn’t right.

I just didn’t know what.

O hasn’t been himself for a while. At least a couple of weeks, I thought. Not sleeping. Not eating. Et cetera.

So when daycare called me yesterday to tell me that he was clingy and tired and fussy and had ANOTHER low grade fever… I decided to call his pediatrician.

And I felt really stupid about it. Because he’s had a low grade fever once a week or so. For what I thought was the past three weeks.

But aside from that? He hasn’t been acting SICK.

Just not HIMSELF.

And I didn’t want to be THAT mom – who brings her kid in with a cold and asks for antibiotics.

But it’s been long enough, and I didn’t think it could HURT.

So I called when he was taking his nap. And they told me to come in, just to be sure.

And he ate snacks and said “Hi!” multiple times to the Nurse Practicioner so that she would let him look at her computer.

And she didn’t hear anything in his lungs but sent us for an x-ray, just in case. Because they noted that he had a cough when he went to his 18 month well-baby appointment about a month ago. And it hadn’t really gone away since.

O ran around the waiting room for the x-ray like a kid possessed. He seemed completely over whatever it was that had bothered him that morning. And I felt so stupid for even being there – he was clearly fine.

Except he’s not.

He actually has pneumonia. In his upper right lobe.

From the quick googling I did, every sign seems to point to walking pneumonia, though it’s rare in toddlers. Maybe it’s viral.

But they gave us antibiotics for him.

And now we have a REASON for the night wakings. For the lack of eating. I KNEW something was off with him – I just couldn’t figure out what it was.

So now we know. And he’s on antibiotics. So hopefully, in a few days, he’ll be back to himself again.

Wordless Wednesday: WTF?

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Except for the sleep stuff. *updated

I love my son.

More than anything.

But I HATE his sleeping habits.

I often wonder if my nap ignorance when he was an infant is the cause of his sleep issues.

Because I’ve said it before. He really uses ANY excuse not to sleep.

And his sleep deprivation begets LESS sleep.

I wish I knew how to reverse it. Because for the past two weeks, he has been up EVERY NIGHT. For at least a half hour, more often an hour.

I wait him out, more often than not – give him 30-45 minutes to see if he’ll put himself back to sleep before I get up and try and fix it for him.

The one thing that has always stuck with me about sleep training was this – in order to solve sleep issues, you have to find the root cause of the sleep issues.

For example. If your kid is hungry, you can’t just expect him to sleep through the night without changing the way you feed him.

So J and I have been trying to find the root cause of the trouble.

And damned if we can’t figure it out.

There’s the cold, yes. He’s had a runny nose now for the past two weeks. And now a cough from the congestion.

Then there’s the lack of eating. With the exception of Sunday night, where he ate a hot dog AND a huge bowl of pasta about 15 minutes after a snack of salsa and chips and then humus and crackers (kid LOVES dip. Seriously, who knew?), he’s eaten about a third of what he usually eats. Every day.

In fact, yesterday he came home with almost all of his food we packed for him at daycare. And then didn’t eat dinner either.

So J and I thought maybe that his mouth was hurting from all the teeth he’s getting. His top molars, though they’ve poked through the gums, are still mostly gum. And whenever we look, we can tell that the gums around each molar are red and swollen.

But tyl.enol doesn’t do much, not that we’ve noticed, anyway. And we can’t give him motrin unless he actually EATS, because it makes him throw up.

So the poor kid has a LOT going on right now.

And truthfully, I’m more worried about HIM than I am pissed off about the sleep deprivation for myself.

There’s something just a little WRONG with him, something I can’t quite figure out. And he’s not vocal enough yet to tell me.

The only thing we figure we can do is ride it out.

Offer him a LOT of different foods in the hopes that he will find something he’s happy to eat.

Put him to bed earlier so he can catch up a little on his missing sleep.

And hope that this is a phase and will pass. Because, you know, they usually do.

I just never expected that more than a year and a half after bringing him home, we’d be as sleep deprived as we all are.

______________________________

*Thanks all for the suggestions and comments thus far. I also thought about his ears, but O has working tubes in both of his ears, and if/when he has an infection (he’s had two since the tubes last February), he gets a lot of drainage. So far his ears look fine.

Knock on wood, of course. I won’t be surprised if by the end of the week he DOES get an ear infection as well…

At the speed of light.

You always hear “it goes so fast!” when people talk about their kids.

It’s sort of a spin on the “just wait until…” talk. And I always rolled my eyes when someone would tell me that I should savor everything, because it always goes quickly. Yada yada.

Especially because after more than three years of infertility before we brought O home with us, J and I were USED to time being slow. Broken up in 2ww increments, in surgeries, in cycles, in vacations.

It really felt like we were just marking time, waiting for our real life to begin.

It’s been more than 19 months since we brought O home.

And really.

You’d THINK that would be enough time to get used to the speed of real life.

But we find ourselves shaking our head at how damn quickly everything’s going.

O has turned into a bona fide little boy. He loves his trucks (“guks!”), slides, cars, books.

He’s started insisting on eating a whole apple, instead of allowing me to cut it up for him.

He relishes in pointing out things from the backseat. Like whenever we go over the bridge near our house – “WOAH!!! Wa-wer!” And “Mommy! Guck!” And “YAY- CAR!”

He knows that mommy and daddy drink coffee “gaw-gee!” and cook with “hot!” things.

He and his “ditty!” Puck seemed to have made their peace with each other. Puck sniffs O’s snack offerings and LOVES bubbles just as much as O does.

He loves to be “OWWWWT!” and when the weather’s bad, he stands at the door, his face pressed against the window, morose that he can’t be outside.

He spends whole MINUTES playing by himself – chattering away in his corner, playing with blocks or his cars or his toy drum.

He ADORES music and not only claps in time with the music we play for him on the radio, but asks hopefully “more?” when the CD is in between songs.

He loves the “itsy bitsy spider” and is working on figuring out how to snap his fingers.

I think back to when I was pregnant, and I have a hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that it was TWO YEARS AGO.

It’s just going so damn fast.

And it’s not like I’m SAD about it, or anything. Really, he’s so much fun right now. And there’s so much to look forward to, seeing him grow and become his own person. And it’s my privilege to help TEACH him how to be a good person.

So really, I’m not all that upset that he’s not my baby anymore.

It’s more that I just keep shaking my head at how damn QUICKLY we’re moving from place to place.

And I want to slow down, and SAVOR our time with him. Like he’s a fine wine, or cheese.

But it’s moving at the speed of light. If I try and savor, I’ll MISS something.

So okay. Instead of savoring, I’m just trying not to blink.

And so now, when people in the store see him and say to me “it goes by really quickly,” I smile and agree.

Because man.

It really DOES go by at the speed of light.

Wordless Wednesday: I can’t believe I ate the WHOLE pickle…

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Weekend.

So I may have gotten a little DRUNK on Friday night. (Two glasses of wine pack a bit of a punch.)

And so. I went to bed CERTAIN that I was going to be up multiple times. And it was going to suck.

But I first heard him at 7:30. And he sounded HAPPY. And when I went to get him?

He was nearly fever free – unmedicated he was at 99.8.

So when J called to check in and I relayed the message, he told the others. And within a couple of minutes, he had called me back and told me that everyone said – “Under 100? That’s not a fever. Tell Serenity to come up anyway.”

So I repacked all the stuff, got O into the car, and drove up to New Hampshire.

I have no idea what it was, but he was fever-free for the rest of the weekend.

And.

I am SO HAPPY I WENT.

Seemed like SO much happened. O hit some sort of developmental spurt, watching the older kids. First he started calling J and I “mommy!” and “daddy!”

Then he asked for an apple, bit into it, and ate the whole damn thing without me having to cut it up for him. (Yeah. He’s got teeth!)

Then he decided that he had a choice to listen to J or I when we told him not to do something. (And of course, decided NOT to listen to us. All weekend. Fun!)

He also was completely obsessed with one of the kids’ matchbox cars. So he ended up with his OWN car – a police car. (We chose one which was bigger than a matchbox car.)

Which he has carried around with him, non stop, since the moment I presented it to him.

I also was able to have a couple of long conversations with S.

REAL conversations.

The first night she was just all positive positive positive. Her oncologist is great, she’s lucky her side effects are pretty minimal, the port installation was a little rough but for the most part she’s feeling good about the choice of doctors and treatment.

The second night she admitted that she wakes up every morning shocked that this is her life. Cancer? Her? A few weeks ago she was thinking she was too young to have two kids and a house and all the responsibility. She feels OLD now.

And yesterday, we went for a hike with the kids. Short hike to the waterfalls. As the kids romped all over, I saw S sit down, staring straight ahead.

And though J noticed too, and called it “S’s moment of Zen,” I could tell that she was FAR from Zen.

She looked, to me, like she was trying not to fall apart.

So I went over and gave her a hug.

And she broke down.

And I fought my own tears and hugged her. And said, “I know” when she cried “I’m so fucking scared.” And I told her that she COULD do this, she was doing it.

Told her to just keep breathing through it all.

And then it passed, and she apologized for not being okay, and I told her that it was ridiculous to think that she WOULD be okay all the time. And we rejoined the rest of our families and walked out, and I got in the car and drove home with a sleeping then awake and singing O. And unpacked, and ate dinner, and then went to bed.

We just went about our lives when we left that waterfall.

And S went home. And she’s faced with the fight of her life. And the knowledge that the best she can hope for is that she will live with her cancer for 5-10 years with no progression of the disease.

Buying time.

And all I can think about is that I want to FIX IT. I want to make it all go away.

I don’t want to lose her.

*I* am so fucking scared. For her. For her husband, who has taken it on himself to do EVERYTHING. Because she can’t lift the kids right now because they installed a port for the chemo. Because she’s tired all the time. Because he’s a good stoic New Englander.

And it’s just SO FUCKING UNFAIR. Why them? Why HER?

I don’t know how to reconcile it all. She needs help to fight this thing. She needs us to be positive and tell her she can do it.

And I DO think these things, I do. I think she CAN do it. I mean, why NOT her?

But all I can hear in my head is this chant: “Stage Four Cancer. Stage Four Cancer. Stage Four Cancer.”

All I can do is keep breathing through it. And telling S that she can do it. And SHOWING her that I’m thinking of her, and that she’s loved, and that she can do this.

And in the meantime, I’ll lock that little voice in my head behind a door. Because this isn’t about ME.

It’s about S.

And helping her fight this thing.

Cancelled.

This was supposed to be the weekend where J, O, and I went up to New Hampshire. To visit with S, her husband and two daughters. And J’s friend B and his wife K and their three kids.

And this week I emailed S, just before her second chemo treatment, and told her that K and I would take care of all the meals for the weekend so she and her family could take a break. And we spent two separate nights making homemade meals for dinners so that she wouldn’t have to worry.

And I haven’t seen S since that one time I talked with her.

I was SO very much looking forward to the weekend.

We were supposed to leave tonight.

When I picked O up from daycare today, I was a little unnerved to see that he was most definitely getting sick. I knew it when I walked in the door and looked at him.

He had a fever.

(I have this sort of fever radar. It’s scary, actually. I know what his temperature is within a degree or two – just by looking at him or touching him.)

But what I said when I saw him was “oh no! You have a cold!”

And his daycare teacher told me that he seemed warm earlier in the afternoon, but it was low grade. But that I should be aware, because there were high fevers going around with the toddlers this week.

And as she was talking, and O looked at me with red rimmed eyes… I knew he had gotten it.

So I brought him home. And I took his temp, and confirmed what I already knew. 101.5.

And he clung to me. And wouldn’t go to sleep on his own. He needed me to sing him to sleep.

O is sick.

My friend S has a compromised immune system from the chemo.

So? I sent J up to New Hampshire tonight. Because really – B and J and S are HIS friends from college, and he should spend time with them. And we’ve been planning this since freaking JULY. And we spent money to rent the damn house for the weekend.

So. Here I am. Sitting in front of the computer, a glass of wine in hand. Choking back bitter tears that I have to miss spending time with S this weekend.

Someone told me once that being a parent is really tough. In fact, one of J’s old bosses said “You know, selfishness really takes a hit when you have kids.”

This just sucks.

I’m tired of sick. Tired of having to cancel plans because O can’t stay well. Tired of wondering when the next illness is going to strike.

And I’m so resentful that the sick is keeping me from a friend with whom I’m afraid I have limited time.

I love my son. I love my friend.

And it sucks, right now, that I can’t make it work to take care of BOTH of them.

Flash!

O is OBSESSED with belly buttons.

He LOVES reading “The Belly Button Book.” (Where tons of hippos LOVE their belly bs and go to Belly Button Beach and sing songs about their belly buttons.)

If you ask him where his belly button is, he’ll stop whatever it is he’s doing and hike up his shirt. And proudly show you that he has a belly button.

Cute, right?

Well.

Lately, he’s been lifting MY shirt to look at MY belly button. He’s amazed that I have one too.

(Whatever. He’s probably also shocked at how HUGE mine is. Seriously, J calls it the “Pit of Despair.” It’s so ridiculously deep that when I was pregnant with O, it shallowed out. You know, so we could actually see the bottom. Other women’s belly buttons pop out. Mine? Was still pretty deep.)

And truly, there’s nothing QUITE like your kid coming up to you in the waiting room of a doctor’s office to lift up your shirt.

You know, just to check that my belly button is still there.

And he does it while I’m changing his diaper, too. Lifts up my shirt to see my belly button. Then plays peekaboo by ducking his head underneath my shirt and then popping back out.

And I’ll be honest.

I HATE IT.

My belly should not be observed by ANYONE. Seriously. It’s a stretch-marked, lumpy, droopy bit of nastiness.

And the fact that my son LOVES it utterly WEIRDS ME OUT.

So I really REALLY hope this is a phase. And I stay on my guard.

Because with O?

You never know when I’m going to flash someone.

On how we got our mojo back.

So I sort of knew that it would happen, from hearing about it from all my friends with kids.

But truly.

I really wasn’t prepared for how different my marriage to J would be once I got pregnant.

Particularly as it relates to sex.

See. I was NOT one of those lucky women who had a sex drive while pregnant.

Pretty much the day before our positive beta, I was uncomfortable and not at ALL interested.

And then I was scared of doing something to screw up the pregnancy.

And then I was uncomfortable and not at ALL interested.

And then I had a c-section.

And then I was nursing.

And then we were chronically sleep deprived.

And then we were worried about waking him up. (Because, you see, our bed? Was on the OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL from his crib.)

So.

At the end of it all, we’ve had more than 2 years of excuses for not being intimate on a regular basis.

And it was starting to affect our relationship. Like we were roommates, or just friends. We didn’t kiss. We didn’t touch. We didn’t hold hands. We scheduled our sex life… and made love like it was an item on our task list.

I would tell him “we need to go to bed now if you want to get laid.”

And we had to be in bed by 9 if there was any chance of ANYthing happening.

(I know. I am SUCH a romantic.)

So recently we decided to DO something about it.

We went away for an overnight for our anniversary last month.

And a couple weeks ago, I asked J to move our bed to the other side of the room.

And we made a sort of pact that we would work on our relationship a bit more.

And for the past few weeks, we have done so. Our conversations at dinner have become less about the STUFF we need to do, and more discussions on stuff we enjoy talking about.

We hold hands more. We hug more.

We kiss goodbye and hello.

And we’re more spontaneous about having sex.

And it’s GOOD.

It’s taken me 18 months to figure out how to balance the Mom Me with the Me Me with the Wife Me.

I mean, it helps that we have weeks where O sleeps through the night, too.

But becoming a mom changed me to the core. And I had to figure out exactly HOW to assimilate it into my identity. And figure out that I CAN balance being good to my son, my husband, AND myself.

Clearly it’s a work in progress. (And of course, now that we’ve figured this all out, we’re talking about adding MORE complexity to the mix.)

I never expected that it would take me as long as it did to find my bearings once we had O. Being a parent is HARD on a relationship. Harder than I ever thought it would be.

And it takes a lot of hard work to keep it healthy.

But it’s the best kind of work.

Dwelling on thoughts.

It’s funny.

For me, personally, my thoughts hum all day.

That is, it’s very rare that I’m NOT actively THINKING about something.

For example.

I recently went to Dunkin Donuts and bought a hot coffee, since it was cold out and I wanted a warm drink. And I noticed that it was exactly $.40 LESS than my iced coffee.

I spent the rest of the drive to work, wondering exactly why that was. Because an iced coffee is more process-intensive? Because the packaging costs more? Because iced coffee is more of a schmaltzy drink, instead of a regular hot cuppa joe?

I mean. Literally. A HALF HOUR to work was consumed with wondering why it was that my hot coffee was $.40 less than my usual iced coffee.

So yeah.

A lot of times I’ll just zone out and let my thoughts take me from one thought to the next. Sometimes I’ll make note of something I find interesting, sometimes I just go with it.

It’s funny, then, to realize AFTER I wrote my last post, that “I want another baby” thoughts have been present in my daily life for a while.

Truly, until I wrote about it, I wasn’t really AWARE that I was thinking it. I mean, I had been joking with J about wanting another baby. Joking with friends about how ridiculous it seems that EVERYONE (literally almost everyone) in real life is pregnant right now. Joking that I need to have another baby because, you know, THAT one would sleep where O just doesn’t.

Then all of a sudden it wasn’t a joke anymore.

I’m pretty sure I’m crazy for thinking it. In fact, I can’t even THINK about what it would be like to have two because it completely overwhelms me and I want to run screaming.

J feels the same way, actually. To the casual observer, our discussions about doing another FET seem like estate planning. We have this feeling like “yep, it’s going to suck in the short term. Holy COW it’s going to suck.”

But, you know, suck in that GOOD way. Because we do acknowledge that there will be a lot of GOOD, too.

But it’s different. Because we know what’s in STORE. The sleep deprivation (times two!). The nursing. The bottle washing. The scheduling.

Chaos. Total utter chaos. Lots of love and upside. But chaos.

We’ve left it at this. We’ll see Dr. HIT in January and repeat all the tests, etc. And ideally we’d like to do a FET in February/March.

But that’s as far as we get.

And that’s okay.

After WORKING on mindfulness and living in the moment for so long, it’s really interesting to me that I’m in a place like this. Where, you know, I’m OKAY if we do a FET in February. Or if we freak out and decide we’re not ready and want to wait until the fall, too? Fine with me, too.

At the end of the day, we have our O.

And truly. I KNOW I say this all the time.

But he’s more than I ever thought I’d deserve. And every DAY, I get up and work to PROVE that I deserve to be his mom.

So ultimately, this noise of the thoughts, the desire for another baby and the immediate freak out that comes with it?

Really just is noise.

And so I think we’ll just ride it out.

And see what happens come January when we see Dr. HIT again.