Where I Was…

This won’t be long.

I was only 12 years-old. I was still in foster care. I sat on the floor of my bedroom looking up at my T.V., tears streaming down my face. I hated this place, the system, the government. I could understand why someone would go into a social services building and blow it up: they facilitated child abuse. In fact, I prayed for it daily. So when I saw an real act of terrorism, I couldn’t understand. These were children, mothers and fathers, husbands and wives. These were innocent bystanders. These were fire-fighters, soldiers, police officers. These were people who were in love. And I was a little girl at home, hundreds of miles away, feeling like the rubble was crushing my body. Feeling like it was me that I saw jumping out of the windows. I don’t remember the news channel I was watching. I don’t remember the name of the family I was with. But I remember sitting on my heels in front of the dresser that held my T.V. I remember wishing I could hug my mother, because she would have never let me see this, or know about this until I was older. I remember the overwhelming feeling. I didn’t know anyone from that horrible day. But I know that a girl that died could have been my best friend, one of the boys might have been my husband, one of the women could have been my mother in law, one of those fire-fighters might have fathered my future daughters in law. That’s what I thought. I felt like part of my life was being stolen from me and so many others before we ever knew it was ours. My heart goes out to those who lost someone. To those who lost many. I know my husband puts his uniform on everyday so that this never happens to us again. I know I was a little girl that day, with no connection to anything, but know that day, and today, I was with you; I am with you.

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I Like My Scotch Stiff, Not My Babies

I don’t actually drink scotch. I still don’t like my babies stiff. Which is why I am writing this blog. The last few days have been completely mortifying. Wednesday, Judas and I were watching YouTube videos together. He was being my usual super-sweet baby.

 

Giving me Kisses

 

Judas stopped breathing. He may or may not have just held his breath on purpose, but he began turning blue. I have been taking care of babies since I was 4 and I have NEVER seen a baby turn blue. Ever. Unless, you know, they were dying. Apparently, though, there is a new brand of baby terrorist, and they go around holding their breath and scaring the crap out of their parents. Okay…That’s fine. After I took Judas to the E.R., and they put him on an oximeter, gave him some oxygen, and did a chest x-ray, I would have been able to accept that as an answer. Reluctantly, but I would have been able to.

 

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Unfortunately, the very next day. Judas had a seizure. He started coughing, foaming at the mouth, and his eyes were very unfocused. Then he stopped breathing and got extremely stiff. I could feel my own body get weak, because I was terrified. I thought, oh, God. My baby is dying in my arms. DO SOMETHING, MIRANDA! So, I called 911. I started patting him on the back. I was afraid to do chest compressions because CPR on a baby lives on the very thin line of helpful and harmful. The dispatcher wasn’t even a dispatcher for my post, so she had to transfer me and I had to repeat my address to the new dispatcher three times. It took 6 minutes from the time I called to the time the rescuers got to my home. by then I had done 4 rescue breaths and got Jude breathing within 1 or 2 minutes.

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He was very upset his arm was stinted for the IV

My poor baby was so tired and lethargic. But he was breathing. I had to tell countless people over and over what happened. We went to the Weeds Army Clinic. They drew blood, ran an I.V., did a CT scan, even gave him a sterile urinalysis. I felt like a horrible person when they did that. Watching your baby boy get a catheter is not a pleasant experience for you or him. His dad and I just kept looking at each other the whole day, procedure after procedure, like…what next? Eventually, the doctor said they didn’t have the equipment to run further tests, so we were transferred to Loma Linda Children’s Hospital (120 miles away from home).

Another EKG and 4 hours later, we were ‘admitted’ to the Pediatric ward. They put us in a room with 2 other families. I guess they were saving money that way…There were more tests. They took his temperature so many times, I lost count. They took even more blood. They flushed his IV every 8 hours until finally they gave him fluids. They did another EKG and an EEG. He was miserable and probably feeling violated and scared. Their stupid cribs looked like baby jails.

 

 

Finally around 5pm on Friday, they told us they his baseline was so normal and healthy, they couldn’t find anything wrong with him and didn’t want to be more invasive unless absolutely necessary and discharged us. As we took him out of his crib and put him in his car-seat. He was SO happy all of a sudden. It’s like he knew we were leaving that place. 3 hours later, we were happy to be home, albeit a little miffed that they didn’t find the cause of the seizure. We follow up with the doctor next week. I just hope he stays healthy.

Before Bed

 

 

Eff You, Too, Miranda

Happy Monday, readers! So this weekend Jesse started his actual job, and we found out that he will be working from sunup to sundown for weeks on end. So pretty much, I’m never going to see my husband again unless he has block leave (the soldiers’ 2-week reward vacation after being treated like a slave). So yesterday, I decided I was going to unpack some more –there isn’t a lot left, just need the time to get to it—and Judas decided he was constipated and had to scream the entire day. He and I were miserable together.* So, I got to ‘straighten’ up my living room, and the rest of my day was spent nursing, comforting, singing to Judas.

DH saying goodbye to Jude before work.

Today, the husband had to be at work 6:30, and today was going to be attempt #2 at cleaning up. I finally got Jude down, and ran downstairs to clean up. I opened my dishwasher to find my dishwasher sucks SUPER-HARD and didn’t wash my dishes. So I’m going to have to hand-wash them. Unfortunately, the water in my new house is lukewarm at best, so I had to call maintenance to get some hot water so I can clean properly. So I swept and mopped the living room, cleaned off the counters and stove and am about to sweep and mop the kitchen when my DS decides his nap is over. Sigh. Well, I guess I can put him in the stroller and we can go check the mail. No one loves me; Jesse got something from the post office, though.

I decided to roll Judas around the house in the stroller while I put things away. I shoved some army gear in the closet, and I’m stopped in my tracks. There is a box from Things Remembered that his ex-girlfriend gave him. I told him to throw this box away. He didn’t. I’m going to assume he just forgot because it was in a pile of crap next to the front door. I look at this box, and I realize, it’s kind of nice. Unfortunately, it has a ‘beautiful’ engraving on it from the ex.

“Jesse,
You Complete Me,
Love Always, Saima”

I’m a jealous hater (only sometimes) and I WANT this box, but in order to keep it, I need to get that chick’s words OFF! So I take it upon myself to get a steak knife and try to pry off the engraved plate. I’m getting excited because surely but slowly, it’s coming off.

I guess it was a spiteful thing to do. I could have just thrown the box away. But no, I had to put my mark on it. And karma decided to put its mark on me. The knife slipped and I stabbed myself in the middle finger. It was pretty deep. So, I bled all over my kitchen. I had to pick up Judas and carry him upstairs so I could rinse the blood off. So now I have a hole in my finger, that stupid box is still on my kitchen counter-engraving attached, and I wasted like 15 minutes of my life being an idiot. That’s what I get…

This was right after I rinsed some of the blood off so it doesn’t look as horrible.

*Side note: If your infant is constipated, and you need to give them some instant relief, use Karo light corn syrup. Just 1 tsp is all it takes. They should some relief within an hour or two.

P.S. I have some pretty awesome stories to share throughout the week, so stay tuned for more.

They All Fall Down

Jude rolled off the bed today while I was a sleep. It’s not the first time he rolled off the bed, but I almost missed it. I was dreaming I was a construction site, so when I heard him tumble…I assumed it was part of my dream for a second. Then I heard his little baby cry and popped up to see my sweet little Judas sprawled out next to the bed, screaming his head off, his pacifier a little ways off. I felt this huge wave of guilt. How could I not make sure he was secure before I fell back asleep?

Don’t worry. I didn’t drop him until the second day he was alive..JK

When Jude was first born, he mostly slept in bed with me. I know that a lot of people say that’s wrong, but even though I’m only 23, I raised A LOT of kids in my time. I know that having a baby and then immediately trying to make them independent is cruel and takes away the security they got from you. So, exhausting as it was, Jude and I spent a lot of time together in the beginning. When he got to be about…3 months, he decided he wanted to be independent on his own. He rolled over. It was cute and exciting. It happened so fast I pretty much missed it.  The second time he rolled over, he was laying on the bed atop a sleeping Jesse while Jermahl played with him and I was taking a much needed shower. That shower lasted all of 3 minutes until Jermahl burst into the bathroom, frantically inquiring about a bottle as Jude screamed his head off. Apparently, Jermahl tried to pick his brother up and…it didn’t go so well. I haven’t been able to relax while showering since.

Aren’t they adorable?

Anyway, Jude’s been rolling more and more now. He’s also been sleeping in his crib except for late night feedings. Last night, I had a nightmare about Jermahl. When I woke up (3:15am), it was time for Jude to eat. So he stayed in bed with me the rest of the night/morning (however you choose to look at it) because nursing makes me sleepy. Yeah, well, even though he was snug in my arm, he managed to turn over and make his way to the other end of the bed. And fell. Of course, I had to Google what to do when your baby falls (even though I already knew), and saw all of the scary signs to look for in print. So when he projectile vomited, something he does at least once a day because he’s trying to sit up, I lost my mind. I got dressed to go to the ER, sat on the bed and stared at his pupils for about 15minutes while I waited for Jess to get home. Then I realized I was an idiot and put on Barney for Jude so I could stare at myself in the mirror… That is why rolling over, crawling and walking weren’t on my list: those are terrifying things. He can roll to his death, crawl to electrical sockets, run through my house smearing my mascara on the walls (Jermahl has done this…twice).  Suffice to say, Jude is okay and Jesse is home from P.T. so he’s playing with his daddy now. That was my morning, though. How was yours?

Jude rolled over to watch T.V.

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