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Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

To say the past few weeks have been rough have been the understatement of my year. V has been sick, work has been crazy, and I'm living last few days in my twenties, although I have to admit my 30th birthday has been the lowest thing on my radar for a while now.

Let's start with V. It all started last Monday after a great weekend with my sister, brother in law and my two adorable nieces. My sister kept commenting on how good V was - she never cried unless she was tired or hungry, and even if she did, it was a soft cry that could be easily fixed simply by picking her up. I beamed with pride as she was on her best behavior for two whole days.

And then it started.

Runny diapers, runny nose, low grade fever. Calls from my daycare saying she wasn't acting right, bouts of inconsolable crying, and waking up every. single. night. at 3am.

What happened to my happy baby? The worst of it seemed to culminate at her 4 month appointment. She was acting fine at the doctor (don't they always? Symptoms magically disappear right when you need them to present themselves.) and hadn't even so much as coughed a little bit. Doc was very pleased with her growth, 50th percentile for weight, and 95th for height. We were raising a supermodel.

Seeing as she appeared fine, Doc decided to go ahead and give her her shots. That night all hell broke loose. Her fever spiked, she coughed so much that she projectile spit up. It was a scene straight out of The Exorcist. I thought maybe I should call my mother ( a devout Catholic since birth) who could recommend a priest, or at the very least, offer up some prayers to the G-man to help our sweet darling.

Still sporting a fever on Thursday, I did the noble thing and kept her home from daycare, even though I had a note saying she could go. I wasn't going to get other babies sick. I didn't wish this on any other mom. Unfortunately, this was a very important day for me to not miss work, so I took her in her carseat, gave her a lovey and prayed there would be enough people who think she's adorable to hold her and keep her quiet while I got work done.

After that, she, Chris and I packed up and headed to Mobile for the weekend. He had a tennis tournament, and I honestly couldn't handle this baby alone for three days by myself. So I enlisted the help of my mother.

Although her fever dissipated, and her diapers became normal, the cough had gotten worse and developed a rattling sound in her chest. I was worried. When would it end?

All the while this is going on on Friday, I was periodically checking my work laptop to make sure my cases were getting paid for - some people would argue is the most important thing- but it was hard with V feeling so crummy.

Then Black Monday rolled around.

Since her fever was gone, I resolved to take her to school, and visit the after hours clinic about the cough. I called and made the 6pm appointment, honestly nervous about what kind of care she would receive. I was frazzled. Sleep deprived, worried sick, and I hadn't had an appetite in a week. Not to mention my bosses had been all over my case about things slipping through the cracks. There was mention of a 30 day period in which we would "reevaluate if this is a good fit."

I saw the writing on the wall, so I tried my best to make a good decision and use my time wisely. But Black Monday had other plans. That talk happened about a week ago, but Monday afternoon I got the worst news of all.

I was being let go. They were going in a "new direction" that apparently didn't include me, but included someone else who would just be doing my job. I wasn't devastated. This wasn't a shock, although the timing could have been better. I was stoic, an inflectionless robot asking questions about how long I had left with them, and about the staff position they were trying to set up for me at our other office. The exact one I had left to come work for them.

That night we took V to the clinic, where she was diagnosed with a double ear infection and bronchiolitis. I cried, she cried, and two hours later we were leaving to go to the pharmacy for her antibiotics, and to get me some food. I felt exhausted. The kind of defeated exhaustion you feel after an "ugly cry" like the one I always have watching the opening sequence of the pixar movie Up.

So that's where we are. I'm in employment limbo (my bosses requested I continue to work for them until the new position starts around July 8th.) I have a meeting with my former boss about the position this afternoon, and I feel at peace for the first time in a while. I think this will be good for me. I've learned a lot working where I have been, but the anxiety was killing me. I'll be happier going back to my home at the main office.


Happy Wednesday everyone. Wish me luck!

Friday, June 14, 2013

Happy 4 months, Booger boo!



Here's a little bit about my four month old beauty:

Her head is rounding out nicely, finally!
Her eyes are the same exact blue as mine, and I love it.
She still gets mistaken for a boy by almost every stranger who sees her.
She sleeps from 8:30 to 6am almost every single night like a boss!
She loves to kick her feet and has recently discovered using a jumper is sooooo fun.
She's either leggy or has a long torso, because everyone tells me how long she looks.
Her hair is turning blonde, just like I thought it would.

She thinks the following things are hilarious:

The Snot Sucker
raspberries on her feet, tummy or thighs
rustling long hair in her face
when we tell her she's pretty (the girl LIVES for compliments)
touching her nose and saying "boop!"
when we make her dance
spitting up

She hates:

Staying too long in her exersaucer
being put her in her swing before she's 100% out cold asleep
getting out of the bath
Breaks during her bottle where we try to give a chance to breathe. Her philosophy is "less breathing, more ounces NOW."
when no one wants to hang out with her at 6am on weekend mornings

That's just a little bit about our baby girl. Happy four months, Violet! Looking forward to what the next month brings for us!

Love,
Dominique




Friday, June 7, 2013

"I woke up this morning, and suddenly realized, we're all in this together."

Excuse me for quoting Ben Lee so early on a Friday morn. I couldn't think of a better way to express my thoughts this morning, though.

A friend of mine from my sorority days at school just recently went back to work after staying at home with her daughter. She said something this morning about how people have commented to her that putting your child in daycare is like paying someone to raise your child.

I'm not outraged. I'm not even surprised. This isn't the first time I've heard such comments. It's like my daddy likes to say, "Opinions are like a-holes. Everybody's got one."

I think there's always going to be stigmas attached to every kind of parenting style. Formula feeding moms are selfish. Breastfeeding moms don't care about their babies weight. Stay at home moms are spoiled. Working moms don't raise their own children.

To use another quote (this time from the beloved movie "Three men and a little lady."):

What a crock.

I'm fortunate enough to have a close up view of each of these allegedly opposing styles. I work, and formula feed. One of my dearest friends stays at home and breast feeds.

Let me tell you, both experiences are wonderful, and both have times when it's not exactly a picnic. I have my struggles with working. Daycare is expensive, and I miss her terribly at least once during every day. I'm afraid I'm going to miss the first time she rolls over, or crawls or takes steps. I'm afraid her first word will be "Tammy," or "Kate" or "Tenecia," (Although Tenecia is a hard one, so that would actually impress me.) because those are her loving daycare "mamas."

But I have to admit, I am so happy with our routine. I wake up with her in the morning, feed her, get her dressed and sing to her. Kiss her chunky beautiful face until she pushes me away. And then I drive her to school, and hand her over to a woman who has become a good friend to me.I go to work, where I talk with adults, and I drink my coffee in peace, and I joke and I laugh, and I use my working brain to problem solve. When I get home in the afternoon, her daddy has picked her up, and I usually find them giggling together on the hammock in the sunshine on the porch. I spend my time with her, bathe her, feed her, and then kiss her goodnight.

My stay at home friends have it totally different. I imagine their days start out the same way as mine, but then they continue to give all of that energy (and it takes A LOT) to their child all. day. long. They sacrifice their adult conversation for Baby Einstein videos and picking up cheerios off the floor, and shooing the dog away every time they try to lick their babies in the face. They are 100% all day every day devoted to their babies. They will see the first time they roll over. They will witness the first crawls and steps. They will hear the first sounds that escape those cherub lips most likely be "mama" or "dada."

But they will cut their budgets. They will have breakdowns. They will see every bump, every scrape and every bruise, and feel the pain of witnessing your baby get hurt. They will only get a few hours or respite every day, and that's only if their babies are good nappers.  It's a tough world, and I couldn't do it. At least not at this point in my life.

My point is, we are all great moms. We do what we have to do to get by, and if that means working so you can appreciate your child more, then work. If that means staying at home so you can be sure to never miss a thing, then stay at home. Motherhood is a tough job no matter how you choose to do it. And know that no matter what choice you make as a mom, your children love you, and will one day appreciate the sacrifices you made to make a happy life for you both. Even if it takes them twenty years to get there (like it did with me and my mama.)

Happy Friday everyone! Here's hoping the weekend is filled with baby giggles and much needed rest for all of us!

Love,
Dominique