Completely Random Musings of a Twentysomething

New Me, New Blog

2011-06-02T03:10:00.001-05:00

So I'm blogging over here now. I will keep this up as an archive of the old me. I may even export these posts to my new blog. We'll see. I'm torn!

Daddy's Eyes

2010-06-29T22:12:00.004-05:00

Yeah. Yeah. It's been a while since my last update. What can I say? Murphy pretty much ran roughshod over us during June...but more on that later this week.

I've been thinking a lot about daddies and daughters. Daddy's Eyes by the Killers has been going round and round in my head. It's odd but I have my daddy's eyes and Nyx has her daddy's eyes. That realization spurred some introspection. I started to think about the very unique relationship between girls and their daddies.

In general, our fathers set the standards for our future interactions with men. If our dads work hard, we want men who aren't afraid of a little hard work. If our dads treat our mothers with respect and display their love for them, we want men who open doors and treat us like equals and who aren't afraid to hold our hands in public or give us the occasional loving swat on the tush while we finish dinner.

When I see Nyx's eyes light up the second Dave walks in the door, I get all mushy and happy. I see how completely ecstatic she is to see her daddy and I just know I made the right choice. I chose the right man. I chose a guy who is willing to work long hours and lots of overtime without complaint so his family can have a really wonderful life. I chose a man who still writes me love letters and brings home flowers for no other reason than he saw a pretty bouquet that he knew I'd just adore. I chose a man who is providing exactly the kind of stable, loving and respectful relationship I one day hope Nyx will share with her significant other.

So a belated Happy Father's Day to all those wonderful daddies out there! I'm off to listen to The Killers one last time.

Diabeetus

2010-05-13T12:58:00.003-05:00

Yeah. Yeah. I know that's not the way you say it but I really love Wilford Brimley's pronunciation of diabetes. He makes it sound so folksy and innocuous.

Those of us with family members or friends enduring the disease know better than that. I've watched my grandparents, father and now husband deal with diabetes and search for the balance between disease and life. It's not easy but it can be done.

Dave recently moved to insulin as part of his daily regimen. He'd done the diet, weight loss (one hundred pounds or so) and exercise thing with a little Metformin for years and it worked okay. Lately though his blood sugar levels just wouldn't get in line. A lot of that was likely stress and living out of hospital food courts. Some of it is just a progression of the disease.

We were both concerned about the effects insulin would have but we've been pleasantly surprised. Dave's blood sugar levels are better than they've ever been. He has much tighter control and doesn't experience the wide swings between low dips and outrageous highs. I have to say it's kind of a relief to know he's got this thing under control finally.

You see my father is now on the opposite end of the spectrum. His diabetes wasn't well controlled for years. Now he suffers near constant foot pain and has endured multiple cath procedures to place stents in his arteries. All those years of excess sugar spilling into his blood stream and tearing up his blood vessels and organs have finally taken their toll.

And it scares the ever-livin' shit out of me . I watched my grandfather lose both legs and die from diabetes complications too young. The thought of my father suffering the same fate paralyzes me with fear. I can't tell you how much I've cried over the last year. Having a sick baby and a sick dad was almost too much for me. I worry constantly about my dad's ability to continue working and maintaining insurance coverage. I worry about the high stress of his current job and the kind of damage it's doing to his body.

On the flip side, I'm lucky to know a bright, brilliant and totally happenin' young woman who has lived with Type 1 Diabetes for, like, decades. She uses an insulin pump and as far as I can tell has never allowed her disease prevent her from following her bliss.

So hop on over here and read a couple of posts on the life of a diabetic penned by Lauren Nygard, architect and photographer extraordinaire. You just might learn something interesting!

Happy Mother's Day

2010-05-09T11:06:00.002-05:00

I'll admit these first eight months of motherhood weren't anywhere near what I'd envisioned when Dave and I finally got pregnant. After a textbook pregnancy, I expected to take home this squishy little bundle and settle into motherhood. As we all know it couldn't have turned out differently.

And yet I wouldn't change a thing. In the last eight months, I have learned so much about love and faith and joy. I've learned to live in the moment. I've learned to see the beauty and wonder in something so simple as Nyx's smile or laugh. I know how incredibly lucky and blessed we are to have made it through those hellish days of uncertainty.

Becoming a mother has changed my relationship with my own mother too. We've always had a close and honest relationship but now we're even closer. Knowing I have someone I can bounce ideas off of or seek advice from without fear of feeling silly or being chastised has been so helpful. Mom's support while Nyx was in the hospital for her surgeries was priceless. I don't know that Dave and I would have made it without my mom here to help with the housekeeping and cooking and shopping and doctor's visits.

The fact that I never had to ask, that my mother just knew that I needed her, showed me the depth of my mother's love for me. It taught me that no matter how my life changes she will always be there for me. Someday I hope to be that person, that rock of support, for Nyx. When she's twenty-six or thirty-six or fifty-seven, I want Nyx to know I'm always there for her just like my mommy has always been there for me.

So Happy Mother's Day to all you mommies out there. To all of you still waiting for that positive pee stick or that successful adoption, I wish you the very best luck this year!

Cinco de Mayo!

2010-05-05T12:04:00.002-05:00

Happy Cinco de Mayo! No margaritas or other tequila tastiness around here unfortunately. I'm still breastfeeding so alcohol is off-limits. We're doing some fajitas on the grill though. Not sure Nyx is ready for something that spicy yet so she'll probably have some rice and maybe a pinto bean or two.

Anywho. Enjoy your day! Be safe if you're drinking! A designated driver is a good thing.

Feed Me!

2010-04-17T21:15:00.003-05:00

So Nyx has been eating solids for a while now and it's going well. We tried that whole pureed food/rice cereal thing but it was a disaster. With every spoonful of goopy bland puree, Nyx exhibited an expression of pure loathing and hatred. Dave and I tasted that jarred grossness and realized it was disgusting. And we even bought that expensive organic stuff so it wasn't like it had been sitting on the shelf for ten years or something.

Dave and I were at a loss until we remembered reading about Baby Led Weaning/Baby Led Solids during our breastfeeding class. We did a little research and decided to just dive in head first. And you know what? Best decision we ever made.

With this method you basically skip all that nasty jarred goop and go straight to "people" food. Nyx's first food was fork mashed Russet potatoes. Within a few weeks, she was eating peas, green beans, sweet potatoes, avocados, carrots, pears, plums, steel cut oats, bananas and homemade apple sauce (no sugar.) Her first meat? Texas style ribs straight outta the crockpot. LOL. Kid loved 'em. She's fond of chicken too but hates pork. Lately she's developed a love for whole wheat pasta. Odd but there it is!

And, no, she has no teeth yet. But this child can gum with the best of 'em.

With Baby Led Solids, you encourage your baby to feed herself. She's 7 months old and eating straight off her tray or plate. Sure, she makes a mess but so what? It's all part of the learning process. Don't get me wrong. There are meals where she demands we finger feed her and that's okay too. I think she likes the interaction and gets some kind of power trip out of opening her mouth like a little bird and gesturing toward her food of choice. She does something similar with her sippy cup. She's getting better at picking it up herself but still needs a little help.

I guess this method isn't for everyone. I mean, you have to be okay with the sight of your baby gagging and be confident in your ability to help your baby if she chokes. We've been doing BLS for almost two months and we've had one choking incident and that was because she laughed while she had a piece of plum in her mouth. It was no biggie. She actually cleared it herself and just kept right on laughing.

What can I say? Nyx laughs in the face of danger.

Serenity NOW!

2010-04-08T13:00:00.002-05:00

You know that old Seinfeld episode where George's dad, Frank (Jerry Stiller,) screams, "Serenity NOW" every time he's angry and his blood pressure is skyrocketing? Yeah. That's my new mantra.

The claims for Pumpkin's surgery are starting roll in so you can guess what kind of mood I've been in lately. First of all, I'm stunned by some of these charges. You'd think after racking up nearly half a million in medical bills between September and December of last year, I'd be used to these ridiculous and obscene amounts but no...not so much. The anesthesia used on Nyx--just the anesthesia and equipment, not the actual doctor--was $7300.

Hey, wanna know something else really funny? Our policy doesn't cover most of that anesthesia. Isn't that fantastic? Apparently they expected Pumpkin's surgeon to pull a Turk (Scrubs) and operate on her while she's under hypnosis. I mean, seriously, what the flying fuck.

So now I'm waiting for the bills to come so I can compare the billed charges to the insurance claims. Then I can figure out if it's a coding issue or if it's a policy thing. I'm hoping against all hope that it's just a coding problem. If not, we're already on the line for the 5K max for the out-of-pocket portion of our policy and then about 20K so far in not covered/denied charges.

And they still haven't processed any of the claims for her ICU stay (the last one was $125,000 for three-and-a-half days of room and board and meds,) step down stay, the emergency chest tube to reinflate her lungs, the multiple doctors who visited in the ICU and on the 15th floor, the medications, the operating room, the anesthesiologist and so on and so forth.

On top of all this poo, I'm buried in deadlines. I've been working until one or two in the morning. Nyx likes to wake up at six. Luckily she's shifted her last nursing session to midnight or one so once I get her popped off the boob she sleeps for four or five hours. It's exhausting but that's just life I guess.

I keep reminding myself this is just one season of my life. Giving up sleep to care for my sweet little Pumpkin, advance my career and bring in enough income to cover these outrageous medical bills is all worth it in the grand scheme of things.

And when that doesn't work I just throw my head back and scream, "Serenity NOW!"

Success

2010-03-27T14:45:00.002-05:00

Well. Sort of. Nyx had her post-op studies done. We had two opinions on them, those of her cardiologist and one of his colleagues. Her heart looks good. The fluid pocket has disappeared. She has no rhythm problems and the right ventricle seems to have relaxed some.

Unfortunately there is nothing left of her pulmonary valve. This isn't all that surprising. Her valve was in such bad shape there wasn't much that could be done to save it. For now the lack of a valve isn't too concerning. She'll be okay for, oh, another ten years at least. After that she'll need another open heart procedure to replace the valve.

In the short-term, we're more worried about the arteries feeding her lungs. They are just so small. If they don't grow within the next twelve months, we'll be back at TCH for a cath procedure. Fingers crossed those little buggers grow!

It's Been Emotional

2010-03-14T17:03:00.002-05:00

Big Chris said it best. It's been emotional.

We've been home for a few days now. Nyx was discharged on Wednesday afternoon. By that point I was ready to sign her out AMA. We had the best experience at that hospital back in September but this time around? Fuck those shitty nurses. Seriously.

Look, I know hospitals are busy places and nurses are overworked but for the love of God! Babies should not miss their pain medications because some nurse can't be bothered to watch the time. I had to pull a Shirley MacClaine ala Terms of Endearment to get my baby her pain medication. (GIVE MY DAUGHTER THE SHOT!) Pumpkin went 9 hours without meds because the orders weren't written properly. I asked the nurse not once, not twice but THREE times if there was something Pumpkin could have instead of the narcotic written for her. No answer, no reply.

I'm not stupid. I know all she had to do was wake the attending. They did it the last time we were on that floor and Nyx had some pain management issues. He was only too happy to come down, check her out and write a new order.

When the docs came through to do rounds, Nyx was clearly in pain so the cardiologist and nurse practitioner wrote new orders for alternating doses of Motrin and Tylenol with Codeine. Great, right? Not so much. The nurse leaves to get the medicine, I assume. Doesn't come back for ten minutes. I buzz for the nurse and am told by the secretary person the nurse will be there soon. Ten more minutes go by. Nyx is screaming and rigid with pain. I'm fed the eff up. I leave her with Dave and head out to find the nurse. She walks by just as I open the door. I lose my shit--as calmly as possible, of course.

Pumpkin got her pain meds.

I figured that would be our one hiccup during the stay. Again, um, not so much. That night they started giving Pumpkin something to make her poop. Guess what? She had a massive adverse reaction. Lots of puking and dry heaving. You can imagine how much fun that was for her with a huge chest incision and a sternum held together with wire. And, of course, she puked up all her pain meds so she had nothing to help with the pain--AGAIN.

Early in the morning, right around shift change, Nyx puked all over herself for the millionth time. I managed to keep the puke from hitting her incision and chest tube sites but it splashed all down her legs and into that crappy little plastic house thing covering the IV on her foot. It soaked the white foam/cloth brace too. I couldn't clean it because the IV was already rather iffy. The catheter wasn't even fully inserted because of a valve. I didn't want to mess with it too much so I buzz the nurse. She tells me it will have to wait until after shift change. Um, okay. What about her pain meds? Those will have to wait too.

I clean up the kiddo (no easy feat since she's tethered to a pulse ox cord and still had a chest tube hanging out of her right side, just under her arm) and change the bedding. Lord knows you can't get a CNA or someone from housekeeping to help with linens at that time of the morning. I get Pumpkin calmed down and we pass out together because neither of us has slept in days--her because of the pain and me because, well, my baby was in pain. Who the hell can sleep through that?

So I wake up a little before eight and still no nurse to clean her foot or to bring pain meds. I talk to the attending during his early morning rounds. He tells me he'll find her and send in her in but she never comes. I buzz and buzz and buzz and she finally--after nearly forty-five minutes later--finds her way to the room. No pain meds in hand because she says the order is PRN. Um, no, it's not. It's every three hours. And she still didn't clean the baby's foot. She disappears.

By this point I am effing livid. The rest of the surgeons and docs and students come through to do their rounds and I tell them exactly what I think about how they and the charge nurse run that floor. My pumpkin is six months old. She has no real concept of pain or how to cope for hours on end with it. To have her suffer because of incompetence was absolutely unacceptable to me. My baby puked all night, sometimes gagging, and there was no suction hooked up in that room. Considering those nurses took half an hour to answer a buzz, my baby would have aspirated and died before any of them finally made it to her room. And that filthy puke foot? How fucking ridiculous is that?

And don't even get me started on the nurse who ordered six (6!) feedings worth of breastmilk from the Milk Bank knowing Nyx wouldn't take a bottle (we told her REPEATEDLY) and then looked surprised the next day when they had to pour all those bottles of milk down the drain. Gee, really? Man, I worked so hard for every single ounce of that milk. To have it go to waste hurt. I'd been pumping that milk to bring home for the sippy cup and to make homemade baby food. I came home with 17 bottles of milk so not too bad a haul but still. I could have had 23!

The poop hit the fan. They sent in a patient advocate, the charge nurse and the floor manager. Nyx finally got her foot cleaned and we had her pain meds on time. It still took an average of fifteen minutes for a nurse to answer a buzz but whatever. We got through those last few days alive.

Our discharge wasn't very smooth either. They came through that morning to do her last two chest x-rays and heel sticks. It took them four sticks to get enough blood. During our four and half days on that floor, the lab techs stuck Pumpkin's heels a total of 19 times!

So anywho. Lab techs take forever to squeeze out those little drops of blood. The nurse that day (a damn fine nurse) came in and told them (in the nicest terms) to fuck off down the hallway. Whatever blood they had was all they were getting. She gave Pumpkin her pain meds and then had someone from x-ray come up to take us down in a wheelchair for her x-rays. Since the kiddo didn't have that tube anymore they wouldn't do portables. Whatever, right?

X-rays and labs done, we waited for the docs to do their rounds and give us instructions. Pumpkin had a little bit of fluid around her heart but it wasn't enough for concern. We'll have it checked out tomorrow at her cardiologist visit in Austin (the first of two this week.) We were given a refresher on cleaning the incision site and giving Pumpkin baths. We went through the list of what to watch for and who to call. Finally, we thought, we're getting the hell out of here.

Except someone misplaced our discharge paperwork. That was ten in the morning. Our nurse finally tracked it down a little after one in the afternoon. Oi! So we sign and sign and make a run for it. I felt like William Wallace ala Braveheart when we finally pulled out of that parking garage and onto Fannin for the last time. FREEDOM!

I will say I don't think our experience with nurses on that floor is indicative of the level of care that hospital offers. I think we just had a batch of lousy nurses. It happens. I'm not about to paint the whole profession with a broad brush. I still think the bulk of nurses are compassionate, caring and skilled people.

If anything, I've learned you have to advocate for your kiddos. I'm sure those nurses thought I was on hellacious bitch but I could care less. I'm a mommy now. Making people cry--that's just part of the job.

NICU Nyx & The Tale of the Great Ticker Fix

2010-03-04T17:17:00.003-06:00

Jeez. Has it been one hellaciously long week! I have a few minutes so I thought I'd update the blog.

Pumpkin went into surgery early Tuesday morning. Around 6:00 we carried her back to the holding area outside the surgical suites. She had had an IV running for three hours or so and wasn't impressed. She was also rather fussy because we'd had to cut off all breastmilk at 3 a.m. She was starving and reaching for me--well, my boobies actually. Dave managed to keep her calmish until the anesthesiologist came out to get her.

It was hard to watch her go back to surgery but not as bad as the first time. She wasn't as tiny and vulnerable. I only teared up a little and managed to choke it down as we rode the elevator back to the 15th floor to get our things.

My parents and Dave's Uncle Jimbo and Aunt Cecilia were here to support us through the surgery. Nyx went in a little before 7 a.m. and came out of the OR just before 3 p.m. The procedure went very well. She was on the bypass machine a little longer than anticipated and was in complete circulatory arrest for quite a while. We'd been told her heart would be completely stopped for ten minutes at the most. In the end, it was more like forty. The repair in that area was just so delicate and difficult.

It's not a nice experience to have a nurse come out and tell you your baby's heart still isn't beating. The entire time she was in cardiac arrest I was close to puking. It's just horrendous to think about the what-ifs. Her hear restarted without any problem and she came off the bypass machine beautifully (as her surgeon put it) at the end of her surgery.

Nyx's first night in the CVICU went very well. She was weaned off the ventilator and various cardiac support drugs during the night. Her pee went from that shocking orange (because of the hemolysis) to clear. By Wednesday afternoon, she was off the vent and doing well.

And then things changed. She stopped all urine output Wednesday evening so the Foley cath had to be reinserted. She still didn't make any pee so they started her back on Lasix. It pulled a little fluid but not much from her body. She also still hadn't woken up fully. She tried to cough and choked so a nurse suctioned some gross ickiness from the back of her throat.

The nurse and I sat her up. Nyx choked and coughed again. Blood gushed down her chest tubes. Like a lot of it. Every time she would move more blood would run down the tubes. It was gross but a good thing. Better out than in, you know?

They gave her a breathing treatment to try to pull up all that grossness and even did a little chest thumping to get gunk moving. It seemed to help some but it wasn't nearly as effective as we'd all hoped.

On Thursday, Nyx started to trend downward. Her urine output was still nearly zero. She was so puffy and swollen I barely recognized her. I'm not kidding. She looked like a marshmallow. They gave her more Lasix and added a second diuretic, Duiril. It took a little more fluid off her body but not much.

Because there was some concern about her heart function, they placed her on Milrinone, a medication to treat acute heart failure. Yeah, um, it's not fun to see that medication stuck into a pump for your kiddo.

Pumpkin's right ventricle is just so incredibly muscular from having to push so hard to shove blood through her pulmonary artery and past that crappy valve. Now that they're repaired that massive hole between her ventricles and opened up that artery, her right ventricle is struggling. It doesn't relax at all in between pumps. And that's a problem. Hopefully it will "learn" to work better over the coming months. If not...well...we'll cross that bridge when we get there.

Thursday afternoon, Pumpkin started to struggle with her breathing. It was more labored and sounded fairly wet. Her oxygen saturation levels fell to the low eighties. They did a chest x-ray and discovered a massive pocket of fluid in her chest. Her lobes of her lungs had collapsed.

Um, yeah. Not good. Like ohmigod my baby is going to stop breathing and die not good.

They put in a third chest tube. It immediately drained nearly 100 cc's (almost four ounces) of fluid. Her right lung reinflated and her O2 sats went right up again. Over night that tube drained an additional 100 cc's of blood and fluid. That's almost eight ounces of fluid from her tiny little chest cavity. No wonder her lungs collapsed!

She stabilized and improved over night. She put out a lot of pee, so much she's no longer puffy and is actually negative in fluid levels for the first time since Tuesday. Her breathing is great although her left lung still has a little fluid in it. That's nothing a little coughing and a breathing treatment or two won't fix.

She was taken off the Milrinone this morning. An echo showed her heart function is normal-ish so she doesn't need any cardiac support drugs. They're giving her a unit of blood right now because her hemoglobin and platelet levels are a little low. She'll get one additional unit of Lasix after the blood just to make sure she doesn't hold onto any excess fluid. Sometime today she'll probably get to try a bottle of breastmilk, not much but an ounce or so.

We're hopeful she'll continue to improve over the next day and get out of the CVICU by the end of the weekend. Not that it's any consolation but Nyx is actually the most stable CVICU patient at the moment. That tells you about the kind of patients treated here. Seems to be the worst of the worst sadly.

But the staff is amazing. I feel completely comfortable leaving Pumpkin in their care. As paranoid as I am about that kid's safety that says a lot.

Vote Aqui

2010-02-26T20:09:00.002-06:00

So Dave and I hit up the early voting polling place this afternoon. We'll be gone during the actual primary so this was our last chance. I wasn't all that gung ho about voting this year. I've had it up to here with those effing political ads. Last night during the local news Dave and I were subjected to 17 different ads. Back to back to back. UGH!

Dave and I rarely get to vote for any races in the primaries. There were, like, three contested races on the Democratic ticket. Whoopdidoo! A lot of the races in this county have no Democratic candidates so whoever wins the primary wins the whole shebang. It pisses me off that I don't get to vote for those positions.

But what can you do?

I also had my eyebrows waxed while we were out and about. Dave made some phone calls and finalized the arrangements for his direct donation for the kiddo. Since Nyx will be on the bypass, she will get a massive blood transfusion. Dave is her blood type. I'm not. He's going to give tomorrow afternoon so it can be shipped to Houston. The hospital has this three days policy on blood products. Adults do fine on blood that's been on the shelf for weeks. Babies need blood that's no more than three days old. Odd but there it is.

So that's that. We're just finishing up the last of our errands before hitting the road on Sunday morning. The mood is decidedly more relaxed this go around.

Milk Maid

2010-02-25T19:26:00.004-06:00

Just today I realized Nyx will be 6 months old the morning of her surgery. I also realized I've been breastfeeding that entire time. I'll be honest. I'm stunned I made it this long.

When we were pregnant, Dave and I knew we wanted to give breastfeeding that ole college try because it really is the best food for a baby. Formula is great for those mommies who can't make breastmilk (and, yes, there are women who try so hard to make even just a few drops of milk but can't) but I wanted to see if I could give my kiddo nature's finest.

That first week was absolute hell. Nyx wasn't allowed to even attempt feeding from the breast so I pumped and pumped and pumped and fed her through a syringe and nipple. I made so much colostrum that first morning after her birth but then for two whole days I was lucky to get a drop or two. Then, suddenly, on the third day I was gushing milk.

I'm not kidding when I say my boobies swelled up to I or J cups. My tatas were bigger than my six pound five ounce kiddo. They were ginormous! Even today my gazangas fit a FF or G cup depending on the bra cut. (FF=For Fuck's Sake!) (G=Great Googly Moogly!)

Once Nyx was able to attempt latching, we had to use a nipple shield because her mouth was tiny. I also had to wear those evil tit torture device things called shells in my bra all effing day long. They basically grab hold of your nipple and form it into the "right" shape. Yeah, um, not comfortable.

During that time, I was still pumping extra milk. Nyx ate 12 times a day straight from the tap. I was able to pump an additional 12 to 16 feedings worth of milk. That's right. I was producing a total of 48-56 ounces of milk per day. One of the icky side effects a lot of NICU mommies face is oversupply. It is a bitch. Your boobs are on fire 24/7 and leak milk every time a baby--any baby--makes even the faintest of noises. I would have let down and spill two or three ounces of milk. Embarrassing!

After Nyx was home from TCH and we had some time to work on latch, I ditched the shield and shells. We figured it out and made it work. It hurt like hell though. "They" say breastfeeding done right doesn't hurt. LIES. It does. All mommies I know breastfeed experienced that same pins and needles let down sensation during the first few weeks. It does go away but it's rough until you get to that point. Lots of foot stomping and hissing.

While at TCH, Nyx refused to take breastmilk from a bottle, a problem we still face today. Don't get me wrong. There is nothing more intimate and beautiful than nursing your baby but let's be honest. Every mommy needs a break. It's impossible to take even a nap when your booby baby won't let Daddy give her a bottle of breastmilk. We're also facing a bit of a problem after the kiddo's surgery. She won't be able to nurse for a few days so she will have to take the bottle. Dave can get her to take just about 3 ounces before she gets really pissed and starts demanding her booby. At least we know she won't starve.

Nyx still eats every 3 hours or so around the clock. Sometimes she makes it four hours. Introducing solids, despite what everyone told me, didn't make one bit of difference in her milk intake schedule. And that's okay. Those feeding schedules are lame. Sure, they work for some babies but not all of them. Nyx is one of those babies and I'm not going to press the issue. She can eat what she wants, when she wants.

Looking back, I see how incredibly lucky I was to have such an amazing support system. Dave was so involved in our breastfeeding class and did everything he could to help me during those tough early days of constant pumping. I had access to some truly wonderful lactation consultants at Texas Children's Hospital's Milk Bank. Stress can cause a lot of problems with supply but those women knew all the tricks to help out frazzled mamas.

The nutritionist who visited us when the cardiologists were pushing supplementation of formula was so kind and very well informed. We did the weigh before and after thing and proved Nyx was taking in plenty of milk. I mean, come on! The kid gained 2 pounds in the two weeks after her discharge from TCH.

And our pediatrician! Dr. Svendsen is amazing. She nursed all of her babies while working full-time. She plots breastfed babies on a separate weight gain chart too. When Dr. Patt was a little concerned about Nyx not gaining fast enough (he sees mainly formula babies,) Dr. Svendsen put the kibosh on any supplementation discussion. Nyx gains 1-1.5 pounds a month. She's a squishy little chubster. Obviously she's gaining fine.

It's funny now but back in the early days when I was pumping or fighting with latching problems or shoving my boobies into those evil shells, I would tell Dave, "Fuck this! I quit!" But I didn't. I would tell myself just one more day. Then it was just one more week. Now I'm terrified of weaning. The thought of losing out on my nursing time with Nyx makes me so sad. I used to think those mommies with nursing three year olds were nuts. Now I know better.

You watch. I'm going to be that hippie mama kicked back on a park bench with her five year old booby barnacle latched on tight!

Back To Houston

2010-02-23T17:11:00.002-06:00

Well we have a new surgery date. Tuesday. Yes, this coming Tuesday, March 2, 2010. After being told yesterday it would be the end of March before they could work us back into the schedule.

So now I get to pack the bags I just unpacked. Yay!

Sick As a Dog

2010-02-22T15:06:00.002-06:00

Oh, man, have I been sick! I started feeling icky on Tuesday evening at our hotel. I thought it was probably just nerves and stress and didn't think much of it. By Wednesday evening, I was so nauseated and sensitive to smells. My first thought was a whoopsie baby. I mean, I nurse every two to three hours and am on the combo Pill (not POP) but anything's possible, right?

A quick three minute test told me that wasn't a possibility so I figured it must have been a cyst. I get those annoying corpus luteum cysts that mimic pregnancy symptoms. Just another one of the joys of a bad case of PCOS. I decided to wait it out to see if the cyst would resolve itself before heading in to see my OB/GYN. Typically the treatment for cysts is the same birth control pills I'm on at the moment. If the cyst doesn't go away, you go in for a little snip snip via laproscopy. Not really something I have time for at the moment.

Well. The cyst issue resolved itself Friday night. I rolled over in bed and felt that horrible bubble wrap pop and after half an hour of excruciating pain experienced some relief. So, um, yay!

But the cyst wasn't my real problem. I seem to have picked up some horrid strain of dysentery or typhus or Ebola at TCH. Not surprising considering there are sick kiddos packed onto 21 floors of that tower and I got to ride the elevator of exposure up and down and up and down for two days.

Let's just say I was in a bad way. I had to ask Dave to come home in the middle of a shift because I was so weak I couldn't pick up Nyx. By Friday night, I was begging for an ambulance or a priest. I lost 7 pounds in three days. Don't get me wrong. It's nice to see that lovely low number on my scale. It's one I haven't seen in years. The thing is quick weight loss and dehydration are hell on milk production but I seem to be rebounding. Luckily the kiddo started solids last week so she didn't seem to mind having a little less booby milk available on tap.

Thankfully I'm all better now. My weight has bounced back up but I can tell it's just water retention. My body is parched. Even though it would be nice to keep those seven pounds off, I won't be surprised if I gain back a few.

But if I ever need to fit back into my skinny jeans in a pinch...

Dry Run

2010-02-18T11:16:00.003-06:00

First, thank you to everyone keeping our little pumpkin in their thoughts. We realy appreciate them.

So Nyx's surgery was canceled...at the last minute. They had an influx of emergency admits to the CVICU so the surgeons on staff had to clear out patients deemed "stable" enough to wait a week or two or three. After Nyx suffered through all that invasive and traumatic testing, they bumped us and sent us packing.

I am unbelievably frustrated. Knowing that Nyx has to go through all of this again in such a short time kills me. The look on her sweet little face was heartbreaking. She so doesn't understand why the hell Dave and I are letting people do all of these things to her. It's so hard to see her suffer.

My parents are out a crap load of money too. They not only drove eight or nine hours to get to Houston but they parked their camper at a site serving the medical center. There are lots of wives and husbands of MD Anderson patients living there. Mom and Dad had reserved the site for two weeks so they could help us out at the hospital and the park has a no refund policy so yeah.

Oh, and during all that testing, the docs discovered yet another fucking defect in Nyx's heart. She has an ASD too. That's a hole between the upper chambers of her heart. Her pulmonary arteries aren't growing either.

Let's tally that up, shall we? Hole between bottom chambers of heart. Hole between upper chambers of heart. Right ventricle too thick. Pulmonary valve doesn't work. Pulmonary arteries aren't growing. Pulmonary stenosis still profound. Coronary artery in wrong place. Extra vessels branching off heart.

I will be so glad when this is all over and Nyx is healthy and happy. But Dr. Fraser did warn us we could be back for another procedure before the kiddo starts kindergarten if that right ventricle gets thick again. :(

Grim Reality

2010-02-14T13:10:00.001-06:00

Lately people have commented on how well I'm handling the baby's upcoming surgery. I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm not actually. I am struggling something fierce. I'm stone cold petrified. Every night for the last two weeks, I have cried in the privacy of our walk-in closet. My stomach is in knots and I am having the worst nightmares imaginable.

Dave is doing a little better. He spends every minute of his off days with Nyx. He doesn't care to talk about the surgery or the what-ifs though so I don't push. It probably not the healthiest approach to this but whatever.

I know a lot of our friends and family don't get why we're so stressed over this. They point out the less than five percent chance of serious complications like that should relax us. Well you know what? Nyx had less than one-half of a percent chance of being born with Tetralogy of Fallot in the first place. As I've said before, we won that genetic jackpot so percentages don't provide any sense of security anymore.

Let's be real. This repair requires a heart-lung bypass machine and complete circulatory arrest. This is a complex open heart procedure made even more difficult by Nyx's small size and the funky anatomy of her heart. Her coronary artery is in the wrong place. She has extra vessels branching off the right side of her heart. All of these things complicate the surgeon's approach.

Because Nyx's pulmonary artery stenosis is so profound, the surgeons can't go in through that artery to gain access to the various areas they need to fix. They will have to cut heart muscle to do all the patches in that area. Once you start cutting muscle...well... But we've been assured failure of the right side of the heart in later years isn't as serious as failure in the left. Like that makes us feel better, right?

Worst of all is knowing we'll be right back in this situation in ten to fifteen years. Maybe twenty, if we're lucky. That valve is going to fail. It's only a question of when. And I hate that. I hate that Nyx will grow up with that shadow looming ominously just out of sight.

But back to that five percent.

The morning Nyx was rushed in for her emergency shunt, she was bumped out of the OR for another little girl in desperate need of a new heart. Just hours earlier, someone, somewhere, had died and left behind that most precious of gifts. Dave and I shared the waiting area with this little girl's extended family. Those people were so happy. Their relief was palpable.

When Dr. Fraser came out to speak with Dave and I about the surgery, to let us know it had gone well and Nyx was doing well, we were relieved. We couldn't wait to go back into the CVICU to see her. But as we prepared to head back, the secretary of that floor came down to the waiting room to let us know the floor was closed. Dave and I had read the visitation literature. We knew what that meant. The floor was only closed to visitors during emergencies and codes.

Was our baby coding?

No. It was the little girl with the new heart. She was brain dead.

I will never, not for the rest of my life, forget the sounds of that child's wailing mother. I will never forget the sight of that poor woman tearing out chunks of her hair and beating her chest. I had only been a mommy for fifteen days but I understood that kind of profound and devastating grief. The love of a parent for his/her child is incomparable to any other love, even that passionate all-consuming love toward one's partner.

Dave and I know what that five percent looks like. It's hard to take comfort in the odds after an experience like that.

So we aren't. We're tempering our optimism with a tiny dose of reality and praying for the best. We have the utmost confidence in our surgeon and the staff at TCH. We know Nyx is in the best possible health for this kind of procedure. And that's that.

For now, though, we're enjoying every second with our chubby little pumpkin head and trying to live in the moment.

Unrequited Love

2010-02-09T20:05:00.002-06:00

So Nyx has discovered Bosley. I mean, she's always been aware of him but in the last few weeks, she's become hyper-aware. She watches him so intently. Every yawn, lick, scratch and stretch. It's almost like Jane Goodall studying her chimpanzees.

Last week Bosley sneezed and Nyx laughed so hard her entire body was jiggling. You know that totally adorable baby squeal? Yeah. Just like that. Every time he would sneeze or scratch at his face, she just lost it. I almost died. I couldn't stop laughing. It was seriously one of the funniest things I've ever seen.

Ever since then, anything Bosley related just gives this kid the giggles. She is so in love with this big blubbery baby of a dog. Any time he gets close, she smiles at him and reaches for him. Bosley knows he isn't supposed to get too close to her so he doesn't answer her summons. He just kind of stares at her with that droopy Great Dane look of his.

Nyx, in baby speak: I love you, Bosley. Let me play with your droopy lips!
Bosley, with a huge sigh: You're still here?

Nyx = totally gaga
Bosley = totally bored

Talk about unrequited love...

Write Your @ss Off Day!

2010-02-06T22:26:00.002-06:00

So this weekend (2/5-2/8) is Write Your @ss Off Weekend. The idea is to put in a full eight hours of writing or writing activities (research, for instance.) Dave-O's four days off coincided perfectly with this event so I am finally getting some quality work done.

And just in time too! We head to Texas Children's Hospital on the 16th for Nyx's open heart surgery. I doubt I'll get much done while we're there. My number one focus is the kiddo so I plan to make good use of the next few days!

Oh, and Dave had the worst day evah. Over the last year or so, I've been socking away five or ten dollars here or there toward a new TV. We haven't bought one since, like, 2003. Nyx will be crawling and pulling herself up on furniture and walking soon so we definitely need something lighter and thinner and easier to bolt down on a console. Also we haven't had anything new in years. After the crap we've been through the last few months (and considering we can't leave the house,) a new TV moved from our "want" to "need" category.

We decided to take advantage of the major sales going on right now and chose a nice, big TV well within our price range at Target. Dave picked it up this morning at the Magnolia Target. The box had some extra tape on it but he didn't think anything of it--until he got it home and there was no power cord, no remote, and no bolts for the stand thingy in the box.

Huh. Weird, right?

He called Target in Magnolia and was told they didn't have another TV in stock and he'd just have to wait for new parts to come in--and pay shipping. He didn't much care for that answer and called the local Target. They didn't have the TV in stock so an exchange wasn't possible. He ended up going to Best Buy and then Radio Shack to find the power cord and remote. The bolts are order only from the manufacturer.

We hooked up the TV...and it didn't work. It had this huge effing gray stripe right down the middle of the screen. At that point, I realized they'd knowingly sold us a broken TV. Missing parts. Taped box. Fucked up screen.

Dave was majorly annoyed. He called the Magnolia Target, got put on hold, like, four times, and then was hung up on by the electronics manager even though he was being so calm and way nicer than I would have been.

Since that Target didn't want to right their wrong, Dave packed up the TV and headed to our local Target. The second he got inside with the TV, a security guy pointed out the return sticker on the box. Yep. Those dirty bastards in Magnolia sold us a returned TV.

Our local Target made everything right. They exchanged our broken Magnavox for a perfect Philips and discounted the price so we only paid a small part of the difference. It took them maybe thirty minutes to sort it all out while it took the Magnolia Target folks an entire day to act like righteous douche bags.

Magnolia Target = Avoid!

Kindness

2010-02-05T22:40:00.002-06:00

Over the last few months, Dave and I have been touched by the kindness and generosity of our family and friends. The outpouring of emotional support really helped us through those first few weeks. There were days there where it was really hairy and we didn't know what was going to happen. Knowing our family and friends were there for us, sending out those positive vibes, gave us that extra little push that kept us going some days.

In the last few weeks, we've had friends offer us a place to stay once the kiddo is discharged from TCH but has to stay within so many miles of the hospital. Our parents are rearranging schedules and such to be at the hospital or here at the house once we bring Nyx home. Layna happily offered to look after Bosley, no easy feat considering he can be a raging turd. And a few days ago someone stunned us with a check to pay for our hotel that last night before heading into the hospital. (That one made me cry.)

In the past, I've done little things here and there for friends and family in similar situations. A gift card to help during a tight time. Emotional support during an ugly or trying time. When I did those things, I had no idea of how incredibly helpful they really were. I did them because I cared about those people and wanted to make them feel better, even if just for the briefest of moments. I never could have imagined how incredibly heartening it felt to be on the receiving end of that sort of kindness.

If you ever find yourself in a position to do a little something for some one struggling in one way or another, do it. It's a beautiful thing.

Om

2010-02-03T16:14:00.002-06:00

Today was one of those days where I wished I'd taken up yoga or some kind of meditative exercises years ago. A little relaxed breathing and "om" would have gone a long way this morning.

Nyx was due her February dose of Synagis today. Did she get it? No. See United decided to wait until last Friday to tell us it's not covered even though they've had the paperwork since the second or third of January. I spent an hour on the phone Friday trying to get an appeal and four-and-a-half hours on the phone this morning trying to sort out this mess.

Scott & White has a contract with one specialty pharmacy to fulfill these kinds of orders but our insurance company will only let us order through CVS/Caremark. You can imagine the price difference. Caremark wanted $2700 for the dose but on Friday I'd been quoted $1100 by an insurance rep. Two phone calls and three resubmissions of the claim and we finally got them down to $1238. For 1 mg of medicine.

But it's on the way and I won't have to fight with them again over Synagis until October. I suppose that's the silver lining.

Oh, and yesterday Walgreens did it AGAIN! At least Dave had to deal with it this time...

Suddenly I See

2010-01-28T20:00:00.003-06:00

So Dave and I had our eye exams last week. Now that we finally have vision insurance I chose to pick up some glasses to wear at night. I'll really need them when we're at TCH. Hospitals are so dry inside. The last time my eyes were killing me! My contacts were all dry and gooey. Ew! Blech!

I have to say I was shocked at what a huge difference vision insurance made in our yearly eye care bill. We both received exams, new frames and lenses, and I got six months of contacts (expensive Toric lenses) for $255. Whoa, right? Dave's frames and lenses normally run that much--and that's without all the extras like anti-glare and Transitions and all that nifty stuff.

We picked up our glasses today. I haven't worn glasses in about thirteen years. Yeah, um, talk about a mind fuck. I took out my contacts and slipped them on and proceeded to almost puke and then trip over my own feet for an hour. Ugh. It's going to take a while to get used to only being able to see right in front of me instead of having all around vision provided by contacts. But the frames are cute and snazzy so that's a plus.

Tomorrow I'm heading out to do some shopping at Kroger's Mega Deal event (Stockpile, Baby!) and to get my hair did. Eyebrows too. I'm sporting the caterpillar look! Nyx is almost 5 months old so it's time to start getting back to my old self, you know? That means cutting back on the Nacho Libre days (stretchy pants, how I love thee!) and doing something with my hair and face every day, even if it's just a nice ponytail and some lip gloss. When I look good, I feel good.

Crunchy

2010-01-21T18:39:00.002-06:00

Today Dave and I realized we've become very, um, crunchy. It started slowly. First we became frugal. Then we became fans of recycling, repurposing and Freecycle. We switched to canvas shopping bags and water bottles that can be refilled. (We do keep a stock of emergency water in bottles though.) We're moving away from paper towels and napkins in favor of cloth too.

When I started dieting and running and taking care of myself, we began frequenting the outdoor farmer's market for produce. Free range eggs found their way into our refrigerator too. I started making whole wheat breads of various types and pasta. I haven't baked in a while but I'm so keen to get my hands busy again. And, really, who doesn't enjoy the smell of freshly baked bread?

As parents, we've somehow fallen into attachment parenting. I didn't even know what the hell attachment parenting was until a few days ago when someone mentioned our style fits that definition. Uh, okay. Whatever. We just sort of did what felt natural to us. We breastfeed, baby wear, co-sleep and cloth diaper. (That co-sleeping thing happened by accident but I'll post on that sometime this week.)

Dave and I have decided we're going to start to slowly wean our diets of processed foods. Now that we have a freezer we can purchase a quarter of a grass fed cow. We have access to grass fed and free range pork and poultry too. This spring, we'll plant a small garden. My mother-in-law has offered to teach me to can which will enable us to purchase fruits and veggies in season from the farmer's market or harvest them from our garden and save them for the long-term.

Are we going to go crazy and swear off all fast food and the occasional bag of Oreos? Nah. We'll still make use of some convenience foods and enjoy yummy tasties like chips and such. But I think for our overall health and to reach our long-term goal of self-sufficiency and possible homesteading this is a good start.

Midnight Craving

2010-01-19T15:56:00.001-06:00

Midnight Craving, my first release with Samhain, is out today. Writing this novella was so much fun. There's just something about sexy half-angels and tempting half-demons that revs my engine! Working with my fabulous editor, Deborah Nemeth, to tighten the storyline and amp up the plot was just as cool. I really learned a lot on this book.

I hope you'll enjoy the first installment in Jace and Isla's story! Can't wait to get the next one out to you!

When the craving takes hold, the only thing to do is ride it out…

Midnight Vice, Book 1

Patrolling Houston’s gritty supernatural underbelly has its perks. For Isla Alvarez, it’s working alongside nephilim SWAT Officer Jace Lane. Ruggedly handsome and possessed of mad skills, Jace embodies everything she’s ever wanted.

Unfortunately, the demonic blood pumping through her veins keeps them separated, since relationships between human descendants of archangels and demons aren’t actively encouraged. Staying away from him, though, is impossible after she winds up on the receiving end of a nasty sexual-compulsion curse, courtesy of a sadistic vampiress. Suddenly Isla is overwhelmed with a life-threatening lust only Jace can sate.

Jace’s principles were once strong enough to resist his longing for the alluring Isla, but in the face of her desperate craving, his desire breaks free—leaving him wondering if she’s not the only one affected by the spell. He’d be more than happy to satisfy Isla’s increasing need for sexual release, if they weren’t in a race against time to reverse the curse before it turns deadly.

For Isla, it’s not just her life she’s worried about losing. It’s her heart.

Warning: Contains wicked hot shower sex, raging-hormone-induced naughty language, driving under the influence (of overwhelming lust) and smiting of demons and vamps.

Read an excerpt from the first chapter here. Check out more excerpts and info here.

No Phone Zone

2010-01-18T16:13:00.003-06:00

So I've decided that I'm no longer going to answer my cell phone with my headset when I drive. I never text while driving but I'm so guilty of yapping while driving. Well no more. I'm a mother now and I have to be responsible. I won't put my baby or someone else's at risk because I'm being selfish and stupid.

Starting today, my phone and headset will stay in my purse while I'm driving. I will wait until I'm parked to make or return phone calls. I'm not ballsy enough to think I'm talented enough to talk and drive anymore. Just watching one segment of Oprah and listening to one mother talk about finding the mangled body of her child under an SUV was enough for me.

Take the pledge. Make our roads safe again.

Bits and Pieces

2010-01-14T19:09:00.002-06:00

1. Dave and I were watching the five o'clock news yesterday and saw this story about a local-ish rescue group taking in a pack (gaggle? flock? skein?) of miniature donkeys roaming free in the county. They were so cute!

Me: Hey, we should get Nyx a miniature donkey!
Dave, pointing at Bosley: We already have one jackass in this house. We don't need another.

2. My yahoo addresses were sending out trashy spam. I didn't know this until just a few days ago because I rarely check those addies. I seem to have picked up some random virus from a writer's group. If you received one of these messages, you might want to run your antivirus and malware software. Maybe change your email password.

3. Walgreens on Rock Prairie can go to hell. No, really. I have never had such a hard time getting a prescription refill. It's for the kiddo's propranolol. It has to be compounded or ordered specifically in the 20mg/5mL solution. She seems to be the only person in town who takes this version of the med because the pharmacists lose their effing minds every time we call to have this 'scrip filled.

This time takes the cake. Dr. Patt's office sent the refill last Wednesday and I confirmed later that afternoon. Dave called Sunday to make sure it was ready. I received an automated call telling me it was ready. I stopped by on Monday afternoon--and it wasn't ready. While I waited for the pharmacy folks to sort out the screw up, I got to listen to some old crone complain about her hemorrhoids and H1N1 injection site while another guy whined about his kidney stones and wiener pain. Awesome!

I was assured the 'scrip would be ready Tuesday morning. I hit the drive-thru on Tuesday at noon--and was told the prescription wouldn't be ready until Friday, at the earliest.

What. The. Flying. Fuck.

Me to Pharmacy Dude: You might want to pick up that phone receiver because I don't think you want the rest of the customers to hear what I'm about to say over the speaker.

Pharmacy Dude hastily complied. I proceeded to lose my everlovin' mind. It would be one thing if this was some stupid heartburn medication or something but Nyx needs this medication. The propranolol relaxes her pulmonary artery enough to allow blood to reach her lungs. Without it, she'll croak. This is why we fill this prescription 7-14 days before we run out of doses.

In the end, it worked itself out--but not before I nearly blew a pupil.

4. Speaking of assholes! Pat Robertson, shame, shame, shame on you! Blaming a catastrophic earthquake on some supposed pact with the devil in the 1700s is ridiculous and disgusting. You, sir, are a douchebag.

5. The situation in Haiti makes me sad. :(

6. I still want a miniature donkey.

And The Countdown Begins

2010-01-12T15:17:00.004-06:00

First things first. A new year, a new look. The new layout is a work in progress so things might change over the next few days.

Secondly, Dr. Fraser's office called yesterday to schedule the kiddo's open heart surgery. We head down to Houston on the 16th of February for a detailed echo (Nyx will be sedated for it) and a meeting with one of the staff cardiologists. On the 17th, Nyx will be admitted to the 15th floor (cardiac ward) and undergo all of her pre-op tests and procedures. She'll be wheeled into surgery early on the morning of the 18th.

After her open heart procedure, Nyx will spend 7-10 days in the CVICU, Cardiac Step Down, and then just the cardiac floor. We will likely spend another week in Houston after her discharge from TCH.

Dave will probably go back to work once Nyx is out of the CVICU. It's not really a money issue but more Dave's nerves. He's impossible to be around when he's stuck in one place for too long, especially some place as busy as a hospital. No, really. He gets all grumpy and grrr. It's definitely one of those "Don't Poke the Bear" issues.

I'll be at TCH from February 17th through Nyx's discharge and then a further week in Houston somewhere. (We're working out the details.) By the time the kiddo is on the 15th floor for Step Down, we'll have a private room so I won't have to worry about safety and such. Dave will be with me when we're doing the daily shuffle between the Ronald McDonald House or the 17th floor waiting room.

Mom and Dad have rented a space for their camper at one of the upscale RV parks serving families seeking treatment in the Texas Medical Center. Dad will have to head back to New Mexico after a few days but Mom will stay from the 16th of February through the 28th. Where she'll go after that is still up in the air. Probably our house since she's offered to stay with us once the kiddo is released from the hospital and is able to come home. We'll definitely need the help.

Layna is such a sweetheart! She's agreed to look after Bosley. Actually, strike that. She's a saint. Bosley can be such a turd. Only a saint would take him on. Layna didn't even hesitate when I asked. Best Friend of the Year Award Nominee? Uh, yeah.

So anywho. Dave and I are nervous and stressed but we're trying to be positive. Soon Nyx will have a fixed ticker. Barring the need for a pacemaker or another valve replacement, she shouldn't need another surgery for at least, oh, ten years or so. Maybe more.

Because the 16th is the last night we'll have our little family together with any sort of privacy, Dave and I chose to splurge and reserve a nice suite in a downtown Houston hotel. It will be nice to have Nyx to ourselves for that night because for the following two weeks, we'll have to share her with nurses and doctors and surgeons. It'll also be the last night Dave and I will be able to sleep in a real bed for weeks. Might as sleep in style, eh?

Coupon Crazy

2010-01-09T11:20:00.002-06:00

So a lot of folks have asked how I plan my shopping trips and whether or not I use The Grocery Game. I'm not a fan of paying for info I can get for free since I'm a super cheapo. So here's how I roll.

1) Check Hot Coupon World for a look at the upcoming coupons. If they look good, I'll tell Dave to pick up a paper or two or three.

2) If I miss the paper because we forgot to hit up or couldn't get out to the store, I hit up various online coupon printing sites. Sometimes I visit The Coupon Master and order what I need. On this site, you order coupons in multiples of three for eight or so cents a piece. Even if I spend, say, six or seven dollars on a stack of coupons, I easily save that on my shopping trips.

3) I scour the ads for my favorite stores online and match my coupons to sales. I also use sites like Money Saving Mom, Hip2 Save, and For The Mommas to plan my shopping lists now that I don't have as much free time to devote to deal scenarios.

4) I create two week menu plans consisting of breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and snacks based on the Insulin Resistance Diet or The Mediterranean diet built around the weekly sales on meat and produce. On very rare occasions, I'll pay full price for a specific cut of meat if Dave and I really want something specific. Dave brown bags his meals at work.*

Once I have my grocery list together, I take a look at our pantry and toiletry stockpiles. I then see what CVS, Walgreens or Kroger are offering on sale. When it comes to pantry or toiletry stockpiles, I have a few rules.

1) Never pay full price. Hell, most times I won't buy something unless I'm getting it for fifty cents or less. Yes, I buy toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, tooth brushes, and shaving cream for fifty cents or less--often for free. I'll spend up to three or so dollars on toilet paper, razors, deodorant and lotions. Most of the time, I get things for a buck fifty or less. And, no, this is not off brand or generic stuff.

2) I only buy convenience foods if they're free or almost free. For instance, my pantry is stocked with boxes of Kraft Mac n Cheese, Betty Crocker yummies of all varieties, Bisquick, Fruit Rollups, Campbells Soups, French's Mustard, Pace Picante, Knorr's Noodles (Alfredo and such) and other similar foods that I was able to stock up on with coupons and sales for free or a couple of dimes. No, really. How?

Say Kroger has French's Spicy or Honey Mustards on sale for 2/3. I have two fifty cent off of one coupons. My Kroger doubles coupons up to fifty cents. I just bought 2 full-size French's Mustards for a buck or fifty cents each. Woohoo!

3) CVS ECBs rock! Extra Care Bucks are the awesomeness. Seriously. So the other day I bought nearly $70 worth of toiletries, juice, light bulbs and more for $37 after coupons. On top of my thirty plus dollars of savings, I earned $14 worth of ECBs. I will combine those ECBs with sales in the upcoming weeks to create more ECBs and to buy Gillette razors or cartridges or Old Spice stuff Dave likes for nothing out of pocket.

No, really. Once you make that initial investment at CVS, you can roll over those ECBs when you buy products you need that also earn ECBs. Last year, I did this once and used, like, $20 worth of ECBs to fund my stockpiling for six or seven months. Only when the kiddo came and I got out of my couponing habits for a few months did I use up those ECBs without replacing them.

I'll be honest. This kind of committed couponing and home cooking takes some effort. In our case, though, we don't have much of a choice. Before Nyx, Dave and I were frugal because we chose to be. We liked paying off all of our debt and saving money. And thank God we did! If we hadn't saved three or so grand on top of paying for all the baby stuff, obstetrician fees and such, we would have been screwed when Nyx ended up in the NICU and then TCH because Dave wasn't working for a month.

But because we live like no one else (thank you, Dave Ramsey!) we were able to be at our baby's side night and day instead of worrying about how the hell we were going to pay the mortgage (we always keep one and half extra mortgage payments in the bank on top of our savings,) buy food or gas. We were able to eat out of our pantry in December to free up enough cash to pay off a shit load of the kiddo's bills. My royalties helped too. Not that much because contrary to what you might hear, authors don't earn a living wage. I'm not joking. Some kid sewing clothes in an Indonesian sweatshop makes more than me per hour.

But I digress.

Once you get started and figure out how to work your local sales to your advantage, it becomes a game of sorts. I guarantee you'll get a nifty little high every time you snag something for free or almost free! Give it a try for a month. You might get hooked!

In the coming week, I'm going to revamp this blog and include links and posts for great money saving deals. Stay tuned!

*We got out of this habit for a few weeks because of the kiddo's arrival and the craziness that followed but we've returned to our old ways now.

Baby, It's Cold Outside!

2010-01-07T06:58:00.003-06:00

Brr! It's chilly out there. We're expecting the full force of the arctic blast to hit as the day progresses. Dave, Nyx and I ran all of our errands yesterday after the kiddo's Synagis injection. Well. I ran the errands while Dave and Nyx snuggled in the back seat of the truck.

Since it was my bi-monthly coupon run, I had to do the shopping. I did really well though! At Kroger's, I bought $210 worth of groceries and pantry stocking stuff for just around $140. We'll only need to buy meat, milk, and produce for the next, oh, four weeks or so. At CVS, I bought $70 worth of stuff for $37 and earned an additional $14 in ECBs. That works out to, like, $23 out of pocket. Woohoo!

Dave has to work today. I offered to knit him a cozy for his, um, family jewels since the wind chills are supposed to be in the single digits. He politely declined. Got me thinking though. I bet I could sell a crap load of ball cozies on Etsy!

Kidding. I'm kidding.

Anywho. The kiddo and I are hanging out upstairs today. For some reason, it stays much warmer up here than downstairs. (I think it's the number of windows down there and the proximity of the heater to our bedroom and man cave.) She got a new play mat from Aunt Romona so we'll try that out today for tummy time while I do my crunches and such.

Oh, and here's your WTF moment from yesterday. Nyx went in for her Synagis injection, right? She weighs 11 pounds (yay!) so her dose of medication was .75 mg. Yes, that's point seven-five milligrams dissolved in maybe two milliliters of injection solution. Want to know how much that .75mg of Synagis cost?

$5446.00

Yes. Five thousand four hundred forty-six dollars for less than one milligram of medication. OMGWTFBBQ!

Merry New Year!

2010-01-01T06:22:00.002-06:00

In my family, we speak in movie quotes. It's a weird thing but it's just the way we roll. It's customary to shout, "Merry New Year" a la Eddie Murphy in Trading Places after the ball drops at midnight. This year we did so through a series of texts and cell phone calls.

Mom, Dad, and Tricia are in town with us. They came bearing Christmas gifts and yummy barbecue from Llano. Nom. Nom. Nom. Last night, Mom made appetizers and Dad fired up the grill. We chowed down and played with the kiddo all evening. It was laid back and nice.

I hope you and yours had a wonderful New Year's Eve. In the ever so poignant (ha!) advice of the Wyld Stallyns, be excellent to each other this year!

Let's Make A Deal

2009-12-30T04:36:00.003-06:00

So it seems that the billing departments of the various hospitals and doctor's offices we use are sexist. I know. Weird, right? Here's the skinny.

Dave and I are trying to use whatever disposable income we have right now (extra money in our savings and my royalty income) to pay off as many medical bills as possible. If we can clear most of them by the end of the year, we can claim them on our taxes which will be a huge-o help. Anyways. Talking to these people has been, um, interesting, to say the least.

Our pediatric cardiologist is with this massive children's practice attached to the Dell kiddo hospital in Austin so all the billing is, of course, done out of Dallas. Uh, okay. So I ring them up to see what we can do and the lady tells me she can't put us on a payment plan until we have no more insurance claims pending. Uh....what? I explain to her that my baby sees her pedi cardi every four weeks, more often if needed, so there are ALWAYS going to be insurance claims pending. She became very quiet and then told me to wait until I received our next statement to try again. What? Like our baby is the only baby in the entirety of that practice who sees the doc every month?

We had some radiology bills from Nyx's time in St. Jo's NICU. I called a few weeks ago and asked if we could pay it off in installments over the next three or four months. I was told no. Well, tough titty, lady. You can take my payments or stuff it.

Dave called last week because he felt bad that I was handling the financial nightmare that was our kiddo's $300,000 (actually a bit more than that) hospital stay. Guess what? This same woman was super quick to make a deal with him. What the crap? Same thing when he called TCH. They offered him half off of our surgeon's bill (a doozy, that one) and we jumped on it.

So what's the deal? Why were these folks so helpful to Dave? Is this yet another case of weiner privilege?

I guess it doesn't really matter. We're clearing the medical debt. We're broke as smoke but we're clearing that friggin' debt. Of course, we'll be right back where we started in, like, four weeks but whatever. I try not to think about how much this next trip to TCH will cost. Just the room and board for the kiddo's CVICU stay (doesn't count meds, doctors, surgeons, tests, or the three or four days she spent in the step down unit) cost us $120,000.

Yeah. Ouch.

Luckily, once our insurance company finally sorted itself out, things didn't look quite as bleak. I mean, we're still on the line for the out-of-pocket maximum which, I've discovered, is really high compared to most people. It works out to about a tenth of Dave's gross income or just about every penny I've ever earned from my writing. :( Yeah. Sad that, huh?

And now we get to start all over with a new company on the first. Yay!

Back On The Wagon

2009-12-27T20:35:00.002-06:00

So I'm thinking about my New Year's resolutions. I try to make career goals this time of year so I have some kind of plan for the upcoming months. I did rather well in 2009 as far as my writing was concerned. Here are my stats.

6 Short Stories
7 Novellas
2 Novels

I've sold six novellas and one short so far. The rest of my work is still in submission or awaiting final word from an acquiring editor. I'm very pleased with my output this year and hope to do just as well in 2010. It will be a bit rough juggling writing and editing with the kiddo but I'm doing okay so far.

My other resolution is to finish this weight loss business. I lost 50 pounds in 2008, gained 25 during the last few weeks of my pregnancy, lost 35 in the week or two after the kiddo was born and then gained another ten once we were home from TCH. Yeah, that kind of yo-yoing is hell on a nursing mama's body. I was actually back in pre-preggo jeans and cargo pants by the tenth day after Nyx's birth. Is that effed or what?

Today I'm sitting at 6 pounds below my pre-preggo weight. I'd like to lose another fifty or so pounds by the end of 2010. I also want to bring my 5K time down by ten or so minutes. I'm a huge-o slow poke runner but if I work at it, I can shave off that time. I think these weight loss goals are totally doable. I've already proven to myself that I have the willpower to lose fifty pounds and keep it off (pregnancy weight gain doesn't count) so I know I can do it again.

The weight loss has to be a lot slower than last time though. It's not really safe for a nursing mom to burn enough calories to shed 8 or so pounds a month. The risk of ketones in the milk and all that. I'll settle for 4-5 pounds a month.

I realize I'll probably have a setback or two while the kiddo is at TCH after her open heart surgery. When I stress, I make bad food choices. It's not something I'm proud of but there it is. I also won't be able to run or do cardio while I'm sitting at Nyx's bedside. But whatever. I'll make up for it once we're home.

So those are my resolutions this year. I thought about throwing in some resolutions to be a better housekeeper but then I just laughed and rolled my eyes. Yeah. Right.

Merry Christmas

2009-12-25T00:31:00.002-06:00

This is our first Christmas as a family but we decided not to go all out this year. Nyx isn't even four months old yet so it's not as if she's going to remember that Mommy didn't bake her usual cookies or string up decorations. We put up the tree, bought presents and that's about it. We'll do our Christmas dinner tomorrow but no homemade pastries this year. I just didn't have the time or, quite frankly, the inclination.

Dave and I have discussed what new traditions we'd like to start. Marrying together the traditions of our families should be interesting. Dave's family tends to have very quiet and simple Christmases. My family is loud and busy. There's a smorgasbord of food at Ama's (tamales, bunuelos, cookies, cakes, snacks...I could go on and on) and lots of fun. We do bingo, trade gifts, tell stories and catch up. Then it's off to Midnight Mass and then home to open presents.

Back in the day, Dad would sneak out of the living room while we opened gifts, slip into this big red coat, and run out to the front door. He'd drop our Santa gifts on the porch, ring the door bell and then rush back inside the house. While we oohed and ahhed over the beautifully wrapped gifts, Dad would come into the living room (huffing and puffing from his run) and act put out that he'd missed Santa yet again. What can I say? We were easily fooled!

I'm going to have to find a big red coat for Dave, I guess. I think we'll compromise and do gifts on Christmas morning. I still want Nyx to have bingo and bunuelos and all that though. Dave is really keen on the idea of an Advent calendar. I think it's a fab idea too. I know a pretty nifty Advent song in German to teach the kiddo.

Anywho.

I'm off to finish this chapter and then I'm turning in for the night.

Merry Christmas to you and yours!

Motorboat

2009-12-17T02:44:00.002-06:00

So Nyx learned to blow bubbles a few weeks ago. Now she's learned to make this hilarious motorboat noise. Brrrrbbbblllliiiiibbbrrrrr. You can imagine how slobbery she gets doing that!

I'm kind of surprised at how far ahead she is developmentally speaking. Nyx has already hit most of her four month and higher milestones. She's been rolling from her back onto her belly for the last two weeks or so. I didn't know that wasn't normal until other moms gave me this terrified look and told me it's dangerous for someone so young to roll over on her own. I'm not really convinced of that though. She can pick up her head and turn her neck to either side so I don't think she's at risk of suffocating. We co-sleep (against our will but I'll get to that in a later post) so she's never alone while sleeping.

The rollover thing is only a problem in her bath hammock doohickey. She tries to roll onto her side on the hammock which sends me into hysterics even though I always have one hand on her at all times. She also likes to plant her feet, arch into a bridge and slam down, splashing water everywhere. No surprise she giggles and squeals while we sputter and blink away the sudsy baby bath water.

Obviously Dave and I are thrilled she's hitting her milestones ahead of time. She's going to be out of commission for a few weeks after her open heart surgery. She doesn't qualify for one of those "pretty" open heart incisions so she'll be cut from neck to navel which means no crawling or tummy time or other activities for a few weeks. We're hopeful she'll level out and not fall behind.

Best Laid Plans

2009-12-13T03:36:00.002-06:00

Its funny. I was just sitting here taking a break from a late night writing session and my mind just sort of wandered to what I was doing this time last year. I was probably sleeping or writing downstairs or in Killeen with The Ash, all the while completely unaware of the fact that I had just conceived Nyx.

That cycle I had completely given up. I'd been charting something fierce but had no signs of ovulation. No temp changes. No cervical fluid changes. I was still high, tight and closed. I hadn't taken Clomid or Femara or Follistim or Gonal-F or Menopur injections or an HcG trigger. I was fairly certain December was just as unlucky as November, etc. Fortunately we deal with stress in one way: red hot marital relations.

It would take 11 weeks before I would realize that I was pregnant. During that time, Dave and I had chosen our adoption agency. We were filling out forms and trying to figure out where the hell we would get the twenty or so thousand dollars to adopt an infant. Christmas was particularly bleak for me. I sat there, surrounded by Christmas decorations, and cried. I had worked so hard to lose weight and get healthy. I'd done everything possible to ovulate. We'd privately dealt with a loss. Would we ever have enough money to adopt? Would there ever be a sweet little munchkin in our house?

And then we had the best morning of our lives. That positive test. I was ecstatic and terrified. I knew the odds of miscarriage were high. I'd already had some heavy, bright red bleeding and cramping that I'd assumed was one of my random periods. (I tend to have one every 3 years or so without medical induction.) That bleeding would make sense after Nyx was born and diagnosed with ToF. Then we would learn that most heart defect babies are early miscarriages. But not Nyx. She managed to hang on and grow and thrive.

As we adjusted to the idea of finally having a kiddo, Dave and I discussed whether or not we would do any sort of prevention after Nyx's birth. For some reason, women who struggle with infertility seem to become fertile myrtles after giving birth. We agreed we would rely on exclusive breastfeeding as our contraception of choice and leave it up to Fate.

But then Nyx was diagnosed with ToF and it became painfully clear that we had to make some ugly decisions. First and foremost, we have to consider Nyx's current needs. She absolutely needs my undivided attention right now. Secondly, we have to think about finances. We're doing okay now but we still have at least one open heart surgery to go in a few months. And then there is the very real chance we could have another baby with a heart defect. The odds of two parents without a family history of congenital heart defects having a ToF baby are, like, less than one half of a percent. Well we won that genetic lottery. The odds of having a second baby are double that. Considering we won the first jackpot, can we risk it again?

And that's where we are right now. As much as it kills me, I'm taking the mini-pill and continuing to breastfeed exclusively. In a month or two, I'll probably switch over to Desogen as long as it doesn't affect my milk production.

I know to a lot of people this probably doesn't seem like such a big deal but when you've faced your ovaries shutting down completely due to early menopause or losing them to rupturing cysts, it's just so unnatural to interfere. I'll confess that I sobbed all the way to the Kroger pharmacy the afternoon I went to have that prescription filled. Logically I know it's the responsible thing to do but what the heart wants and what the head knows to be right aren't always one and the same.

Will we give this baby business a try again? Maybe. Probably. Who knows? We'll revisit the question once Nyx is fully recovered and thriving. One way or another, we'll have another kid or two or three. Who knows? Maybe our next son or daughter is already waiting for us in some foster home.

Whatever happens, I'm learning to go with the flow. The best laid plans of mice and men and all that.

An Early Christmas Gift

2009-12-12T04:04:00.002-06:00

So Nyx had a cardiologist appointment on Wednesday and it went really well. She weighs a little over 10 pounds now. She's gained 4 pounds in 3 months. Not bad considering her broken heart, three weeks in the hospital and whacked out metabolism. Her O2 sats have leveled out and seem to only dip down to the 70s and 80s when she's crying. She does get a little winded when she's playing but that's normal for now. As long as there are no changes, she'll have surgery in late February or early March.

Dave and I were so relieved to hear this. We postponed decorating and gift buying because we weren't sure whether or not Nyx would spend her first Christmas in the hospital. We'll bust out the Christmas tree and lights later today. Gifts are on their way too.

The only snag in our holiday is the upcoming insurance changeover. Nyx's next dose of Synagis won't ship out until the 7th of January...but we won't have approval from our new insurance company yet. Yep. You guessed it. She won't get the injection in time--if at all. (It has to be spaced every 28 days to be effective.) Also we won't have hit our deductible yet so we'll be expected to pay for the entire $3000 dollars for the injection unless our new company covers Synagis differently than the old one.

Head. Desk.

I've tried multiple times to get a straight answer from Dave's HR rep but it's proving to be an exercise in futility. It took three weeks or so just to get a response. We were told to check out the prescription list but that was a complete waste of time because Synagis is one of those special category meds so it's not on the list. I can't call the company directly because we don't have the group plan number. I don't have the group plan number because someone doesn't respond in a timely manner. And so on and so forth.

Thank goodness it's the holidays. I'm feeling a bit charitable so I haven't lost my shit on anyone.

Yet.

Detroit Rock City

2009-12-01T06:28:00.005-06:00

So the kiddo has discovered her tongue. She is fascinated and spends most of the day trying to grab it with her fingers or sticking it out at us while squealing. I'm hoping the Gene Simmons phase passes soon. She hasn't quite learned cause and effect relationships so the idea that snatching her tongue with her slobbery fingers makes her gag hasn't set in yet. Fingers crossed she'll make the connection soon. I'm not so keen on being splattered by booby milk and propranolol or whatever other med she's just taken.

Until she figures it out, I suppose we'll just keep pretending we're a KISS cover band around here. Nyx as The Demon. Dave as The Spaceman. Me as the Starchild. Bosley as the Catman. I mean, we might as well get a little amusement out of this bizarre stage, right?

I'm off to change and nurse this kiddo and sing her back to sleep. Flaming Youth seems apropos...

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-11-26T01:30:00.002-06:00

I have so much to be thankful for this year, namely Nyx and Dave-O and that pesky dog. I'm thankful for our family and friends who have been so supportive.

I'm thankful for the nurses and doctors and surgeons and techs at St. Jo's and Texas Children's who took care of our baby and gave her a chance to thrive.

I'm thankful we have insurance (even if the policy is a little lacking) and the income to break even every month. So many other parents aren't so lucky.

I'm thankful for the readers who find my deliciously naughty tales entertaining enough to plunk down the three or four bucks per copy. I'm thankful for the editors who love my work enough to buy it. I'm even thankful for their virtual red pens.

Even though it's been a year with some amazing highs and some heartbreaking lows, I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm thankful for it all.

When Pigs Fly

2009-11-25T01:37:00.003-06:00

Did y'all catch the vid of Paula Deen taking a charity ham to the face? Ohmigod. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. I love Paula Deen. She is the queen of buttery goodness.

Swine flew, indeed.

Anywho. Back to work. I'm writing in bed as Dave and the kiddo sleep. It's hilarious to see these two. They sleep exactly the same way. One arm across the chest, one arm thrown overhead, the occasional snore. It kills me.

Oh, and Nyx laughs in her sleep. It sounds hilarious, like Goofy, actually. "Uh-hyuh-hyuh-hyuh."

Party in the Back

2009-11-21T02:38:00.002-06:00

So my baby is growing a mullet. I know. It's simultaneously horrifying and hilarious. I warned Dave subjecting Nyx to six hours of Hair Bands during one of our trips to E-town while in utero was going to have grave consequences. And now I have a mullet baby! For shame!

Her hair is still this reddish auburn color and really thick and long in the back with just the lightest dusting on top. Her eyebrows are still Horatio-Caine-orange and those eyes are as blue as ever. Who knew a chica with the darkest coffee hair and chocolate eyes could have a red-headed blue-eyed kiddo? Ah, the mystery of genetics!

On the heart front, she's doing well. The pink is fading now. Her skin has the slightest blue tinge. I won't be surprised if her sats have fallen to the seventies when we head in for her December cardiologist visit. I don't think we're going to make it to six months before we're forced back to the hospital for her full repair. She just seems to have one of those complicated cases of ToF. The shunt gives great flow to her lungs but the hole between the lower chambers of her heart is really big and allows so much of her blood to mix and--well--there's the blue baby look.

I'm a little nervous about the open heart surgery, especially considering her coronary artery is in the wrong place. It rests right where they need to make the incision. So yeah... And there's something else but I'm not sure if it's something I want to blog about. It's pretty effing depressing but it's a reality so I might throw up a post in the next few days.

Anywho. She's still a smidge on the small side. She's growing well, two pounds a month on mama's milk, but if she could just get to five or six months, her vessels would be so much bigger and easier to work with--but this is where we are and we have to trust in the skills of our surgeons.

Oh, and Dave's company is switching insurance companies on January 1, 2010. A lot of people he works with don't seem to understand why we're so annoyed. Apparently they don't seem to understand how very few pediatric cardiologists there are in this area. Can you imagine the hassle of finding a regular pediatrician willing to accept a patient like Nyx? I was sick to my stomach until I was able to confirm all of our current docs and surgeons are covered by the new plan.

I wish I could hand them the nine inch stack of hospital claims, denials and bills I have sitting on my desk right now. Maybe then they'd understand what it's like to sit on the phone with your insurance company for hours trying to figure out why the hell they won't pay for this medication or that procedure. Maybe they'd like to beg hospital, outpatient and clinic financial offices to set them up on payment plans rather than kicking their bills to collection agencies.

Folks, Dave and I had to apply for charity funds through the Patient Access Network to pay for Nyx's RSV meds. Our pedi even applied to the Children's Miracle Network fund at their clinic just in case. But we have "amazing" insurance, right? We're middle class, right? We're careful with our money and live way within our means but don't let that fool you. One sick baby and you start pinching those pennies until Abe Lincoln begs for mercy.

We were actually denied by the PANF because we make too much money. Yeah. Process that. I practically broke down when the case worker told me that. I was, like, lady, if I had as much money as you think, I wouldn't be asking for a grant to pay for my baby's medication. In the end, it turned out someone had improperly processed our application. We did, eventually, get the grant. And I am so effing thankful. It was all I could do not to cry with relief.

So now I get to fight with our new insurance carrier on the first of January to get coverage for the rest of Nyx's RSV meds. It took Humana four weeks to approve five doses but only pay for a fraction of them. Who wants to bet me United takes even longer and pays even less?

But whatever. I'm learning to let go of my medical frustrations and live in the moment. I have a beautiful, if slightly blue, baby who makes me laugh and cry and make goofy faces and sing silly songs. At the end of the day, what could possibly be more awesome than a chubby cheeked mullet baby?

Mom Jeans

2009-11-02T01:50:00.002-06:00

So I spend a lot of time in waiting rooms these days. I've noticed something odd. I don't dress like a mom. I'm still running around in cargo pants, tees, and electric blue and hilighter yellow KangaROOS. I feel like I should hit up Dillards for cardigans and trousers and loafers. Maybe something with an applique or some puff paint? Quacker Factory sweater with some super sexy mom jeans, perhaps?

Was that a collective shudder? Oh well. Can't blame me for trying to blend in to the mom brigade.

On the kiddo front, she's doing well. Her 02 sats have fallen again but this was something we expected. Her shunt is still wide open and doing really well. Her pulmonary valve, however, is totally crapping out on her. There is no way the surgeons will be able to save it in the spring so it will have to go. She's back on her propranolol too. Poor kid hates that stuff but we've got to try to get a little more blood flow through those pulmonary arteries. Those little lungs and vessels have to grow, grow, grow before her open heart surgery!

Pics!

2009-10-27T02:48:00.002-05:00

So I finally got around to uploading pics of the kiddo, like, an hour ago. Yes, I'm awake at 3 in the morning. Why? Um, because my baby is living up to her name. She is a true child of the night. I'm sort of wondering if her first teeth will be fangs....

Anywho.

Pics. On Photobucket.

Birth & NICU

Home in September

Texas Childrens Hospital

Home in October

Million Dollar Baby

2009-10-20T20:43:00.002-05:00

And the shakedown begins...

So far Nyx has racked up just around a quarter of a million dollars in medical bills from her initial NICU stay and then her time at TCH for her emergency heart surgery. We're still waiting for our insurance company and the various hospitals and providers to settle with one another before we start paying what we owe. From what I can tell, it's not going to be pretty. And we still have at least one open heart surgery to go. On top of that, Nyx's monthly cardiologist visits run just over three grand. Yes. That's right. Three thousand dollars a month. Why so expensive? Well she has to have an echo and EKG every visit. Those things ain't cheap.

Today I found out the company that supplies our pediatrician's office with Synagis, an injection that will help prevent RSV, requires payment up front before they will even ship the drug to the pedi's office. How nice, huh? Our insurance company "approved" five of the six rounds of the injections. You would think they'd pay for them if they approved them but, um, yeah, not so much. These injections cost $1000-4500 per dose depending on your baby's weight.

Yeah. Digest that for a bit.

We belong to that totally unfortunate class of people who make too much money to qualify for any of the useful government programs out there but not enough money to be able to just write a check for $27,000 worth of injections. So we bankrupt ourselves trying to provide our kiddo with the injections she needs or risk it and just pray she doesn't get RSV and end up in the hospital on a ventilator again.

Sucky. Sucky.

But, hey, we don't need health care reform in this country, right? The system works great, right? I guess that makes me a big, fat pinko-loving communist for wanting my insurance company to provide the benefits I've paid for and the pharmaceutical companies not to bend over desperate parents, huh?

Se Las Lavo?

2009-10-07T00:48:00.002-05:00

Did you wash your hands? No? Then back away from my kiddo! Since the flu, H1N1, RSV or the common cold will require Nyx to be admitted to the hospital, we have to follow strict rules around here. We just can't risk her becoming infected with any illness that might compromise her lungs. That shunt is her main source of blood to her tiny lungs and even though it's vastly improved her health it simply can't sustain her if she becomes sick. Dehydration is another big concern for Nyx. Her heart just isn't cut out for that kind of work.

So until Nyx has her complete heart repair in four to six months and then makes a full recovery, we've implemented the following rules at Casa O.

If you want to see the kiddo, you need to have had a flu shot. (Just the regular one, not the piggy flu one. Call me crazy but I'm not big on trusting the gubment to fast-track a vaccine.) No, I'm not going to ask to see your immunization record at the door but I'm probably going to ask. (You should get the shot regardless of whether or not you want to see and hold Thumbelina. It's the responsible thing to do.)

If you have a fever, cough, runny nose, sore throat, vomiting or the runs, stay away from my house. If you've been exposed to someone with those symptoms, stay away from my house.

If you smoke, you need to shower and wear clean, smoke free clothes. I'm probably going to be even more super paranoid and ask that you place a blanket between you and the baby. Yeah. I'm that mom.

When you come into the house, head straight to the powder room (snooty, snooty!) and wash your hands. Dave and I strictly adhere to this rule. In fact, Dave comes right home, strips to his skivvies, and jumps into a shower before he ever gets near the kiddo. When we head out to doctor visits or the grocery store or to run errands, we come straight home and wash our hands before touching Nyx.

Don't kiss or touch her face. Keep those cooties to yourself, please!

I realize these are somewhat strict rules and make us seem like paranoid nutters but I'd rather risk offending people by asking them not to touch or visit than to risk my baby's life. I mean, what else can we do?

26

2009-10-06T02:30:00.002-05:00

Yeah. Today, er, yesterday was my birthday. I'm twenty-six. Gah, I'm getting so effing old. I can feel the creepy cold fingers of thirty wrapping around my neck as I fight like hell not to give up my twenties. The last few weeks of stress combined with my inability to take the lady hormones I desperately need (breastfeeding and all that) have created streaks of gray in my usually black hair. I'm starting to look as old as Dave--and damn, that's old. Like cranky old bastard yelling at the kids to get off his lawn old.

With the new kiddo and all, this year was a really laid back celebration. Dave-O made dinner, picked up my fave cheesecake, brought home a fabulous flower arrangement and an iTunes gift card. Best gift of all though? (Besides his burning love for me and the munchkin, of course.) An uninterrupted four hours of sleep. It was heaven. Absolute heaven. Dave forced me into the bedroom, turned on the TV so I wouldn't hear Nyx fussing or wailing, assured me there was plenty of breast milk in the fridge for the kiddo (enough for three feedings) and closed the door. I passed out in seconds and woke up four hours later with boobies bursting with milk. Best four hours of sleep I've had since August.

In Nyx related news, we took her in for a pedi visit today. It's the first time she's seen Dr. Svendsen since her surgery. The doc was totally impressed by Nyx's vast improvement. Thumbelina has gained one pound and two ounces since she was discharged from TCH. Yeah. She gained that much weight in, like, two weeks. Holy hell. Can you imagine what the fat content of my breast milk must be? I wondered where my ass had gone...and now I know!

On the crappy front, Nyx has a sacral dimple that we have to have checked out to rule out spina bifida or kidney problems. I know. I've just about had it with the seemingly never-ending health issues. We're still waiting for the kiddo's chromosome tests to rule out DiGeorge, Turners, Noonan and something else. Fingers crossed, she doesn't have any other underlying issues. But, if she does, we'll deal.

We seem to be getting really good at plowing through the poo.

Caterwauling

2009-10-04T20:06:00.002-05:00

So now that Nyx has real blood flow to her lungs, not the wimpy amount that managed to squeeze through a space of less than 3 millimeters, she is having so much fun trying out the pipes. Don't get me wrong. She's not an overly fussy baby or colicky but every now and then she really likes to wail. Dave and I must be weird because we find it hilarious. No, no. It's not the delirium of sleep deprivation.

You see, Nyx doesn't cry normally. She sort of, well, sings. It's high-larious. Her run-of-the-mill cry to let us know she's pissed off at some invasive or uncomfortable test is a series of la's. As in la-la-la-la. When she's really furious, she morphs into Robert Plant. You know "Immigrant Song?" Yeah. She totally nails that one. "AAAAH-ah-AAAH-AH!" Dave and I then supply the lyrics because, really, what the hell else can you do at three in the morning?

The other morning she busted out a new tune. Ever seen So I Married an Axe Murderer? You know the bit where Charlie is singing about Rose at the end? "Rose! Jailbird! Ah-AAH!" Nyx now includes that as part of her early morning repertoire. It's amusing to say the least.

And speaking of Roberta Plant.... I'm off to answer Thumbelina's cries. Sounds like someone has a dirty diaper.

Tales of TCH: The Beginning is the End is the Beginning

2009-09-25T17:47:00.002-05:00

So we're finally home. Nyx is doing well. Her incisions don't seem to bother her much. Eventually I'll get around to posting some pics. The thoracotomy on her right side stretches from just below her armpit to the middle of her back. We've decided when people ask what the hell happened to our baby, we're going to go with the dingoes tried to steal her.

Nyx didn't come off of the ventilator until Sunday afternoon. Her catheter and arterial line followed later that night. She was able to eat a little too. On Monday mid-afternoon, they pulled her central line and moved us to cardiac step down. The privacy and rooming-in made things easier to handle.

We had a setback on Monday. Nyx lost weight for the whatever day in a row (it's all blurry) and refused to take anything from a bottle. Oddly enough, she only wanted my magic tatas. Apparently ICU and NICU babies rarely give up the bottle for the boob since the boob requires more work. The occupational therapist was really surprised and had little info to offer since she normally deals with babies refusing to go back to the boobies. Her suck was perfect. She just gagged constantly on the milk flow.

So we fought against the docs who wanted to put her on syringe feedings or an NG tube with fortified breastmilk. They agreed to give us another day before making any decisions. Sure enough, she munched like crazy on my boobies and gained weight. I'm not sure why the docs were so surprised. I mean, I know I've only been a mommy for, like, three weeks but, um, I know my kid. I wouldn't want to eat either after having tubes shoved down my throat and nose for days. I can only imagine how sore her throat was. Also being high as a kite for a week probably didn't help.

While we were struggling to avoid a feeding tube for the kiddo that Monday night, we also got a call about Bosley. He'd mounted a hunger strike at the pet resort. He hadn't had a drop of water since we'd left him on the prior Wednesday and only a few bites of food. Um, yeah, what the fuck? Why, exactly, did they wait so long to contact us? No idea but you can be damn sure we won't leave him there again. And, of course, they had no issue with charging us the full rate even though he didn't eat, drink or get his meds and slept on the concrete floor rather than bedding. Nice, huh?

So, faced with the reality that Bosley was probably going to croak, Dave had to leave TCH to mount a rescue of our snugglebumpkins. Yeah. I spent days alone at TCH with the kiddo. It was stressful and depressing but we got through it. She thrived. I dealt. Dave nursed Bosley back to health. We came home. The end.

But not really. We'll be back at TCH in six to nine months for Nyx's open heart surgery and full repair of her TOF defects. It's going to be a tricky surgery since Nyx's heart is way worse than we'd initially believed. Her pulmonary stenosis is very pronounced as are her right ventricle defects. She also has an additional vessel branching off her heart (uh, what?) and a coronary artery across and resting against her heart. So yeah. Tricksy.

Luckily our surgeon is the best surgeon at TCH and apparently one of the best in the world. Thank God for that. I don't want some flunky slicing and dicing on my kid, you know?

Speaking of flunkies, avoid, like the fucking plague, the emergency room at TCH. For a group of professionals supposedly versed in dealing with sick children, they were disappointing in their skills. They couldn't get IVs. No one washed their hands or wore gloves. The rooms were dirty. There were sick and coughing kids everywhere. They didn't follow the admission orders for Nyx and kept her in that plague infested hell hole of an ER for HOURS instead of sending us up despite our constant reminders. They showed no respect to a breastfeeding mom. They were rough in their handling of Nyx. They continued to attempt to run tests (EKGs and echos) even though Nyx was having multiple Tet spells and her oxygen saturation levels were dipping into the fifties. There were a few times I wondered if she was going to start breathing again.

Seriously, folks, our kiddo was BLUE before this cardiology resident who looked about twelve finally had the balls to put his foot down with the overbearing nurses and have her moved up to CVICU where she could be better managed. The second we hit the 18th floor, everything changed. The nurses and docs and techs washed or sanitized their hands every time they entered the room or touched a piece of equipment. They gave Nyx a mild sedative to calm her down and keep her oxygen saturation levels as stable as possible. They were gentle and calm with her. The doctors and surgeons and nurses explained every intervention or test they performed.

So yeah. From the first floor up, TCH is a great place. First floor? Ninth level of Hell.

Anywho. Off to eat. I'm starving.

Tales of TCH: Part the Second

2009-09-19T00:31:00.001-05:00

So Nyx progressed well today. She finally woke up around 1:30 in the afternoon. She's obviously incredibly confused. Her eyes dart back and forth and she tries to breathe, gag and cry. The tubes down her nose and throat make those things impossible.

They were able to remove her chest tube and wean her down to support breathing on the ventilator. Unfortunately, she's so blitzed on morphine for the pain she isn't able to breathe on her own. They gave her a few trials today but after half an hour or so she'd get too tired to breathe and would just, well, stop. And that's not good. Standing there, watching your kiddo turn bluish because she's not breathing is rather unsettling. She'll spend the night on the ventilator and we'll try again tomorrow.

We're not sure how many more days/nights she'll spend in the CVICU. Once she's breathing on her own and eating, they'll be able to move her to the main floor which means we can room in with her. Until then, this is where we'll be, camped out on Tower 17 and 18.

Tonight we weren't able to get a room in the Ronald McDonald house so we're roughing it in the CVICU waiting room with a handful of other similarly stranded parents. Honestly, it's not so bad. Dave and I were able to grab two of the recliners available for sleeping. They sure as shit beat the tiny couches and chairs.

The downside? I have to travel from the 17th floor to the 4th floor every three hours tonight to pump and leave my milk at the NICU reception desk since the Milk Bank is closed after five in the afternoon. The up and down wouldn't be so bad if the elevators weren't on lock down from ten until six. What does that mean? Well if I want to go anywhere beyond the 17th and 18th floors (the ones my CVICU parent badge clear me for) I have to go all the way down to the first floor, get off the elevator, wait for a security guard and have him send me up the floor I want.

Sounds tedious but simple, huh?

Yeah. Not so much. Just trying to get to my 10:30 pumping session nearly had me blowing a pupil. First I hopped on at 17 and went down to 1. I grabbed a tag from the front desk, got back on the elevator and had a security guard beam me up to 4. Except I didn't go to four. I ended up on 3 and then zoomed up to 10 where the elevator suddenly stopped and sat idle for nearly ten minutes. Finally it dropped straight down to 1 again. I get off and the security guard apologizes for putting me on the elevator currently on the fritz. Gee, thanks.

So I get to four. I pump. I drop off my milk. I get back on the elevator and hit the first floor but I end up heading up to the fifth. WTF? A random guy hops on with me and we get to ride the elevator all the way up to the 16th floor, stopping at every single floor, of course. But the doors don't open. We just sit and wait and then move. Uhhh, what? And then we hit 16 and drop like a rock to 1.

I hop off and race over to the second elevator bank. (Only certain elevator banks reach specific floors in the tower. To get to floors 1, 3, or 16-21, you have to use the express elevators. To reach 1, 3, 4-15 or 16, you have to use a different set. Yeah. I know. It's ridiculous.) I jump into the first elevator, swipe my badge, and hit 17. But I don't get a green light. The doors close. I wait. The doors open. The security guard gives me a curious glance. I explain my predicament. He scans his badge and I rocket up to 17 where I get a new badge so I can get up to 18 see Nyx again.

As I'm leaving the 18th floor after a quick visit with my kiddo, another mommy from the CVICU starts racing toward me and shouts at me to hold the elevator. She'd been stranded on the 18th floor for nearly an hour waiting for a familiar face because her badge crapped out on her too. Apparently the elevators here need an old priest and a young priest.

Speaking of priests, don't hold your breath for one. Seriously. We asked for a priest the night we arrived and still haven't seen one. But rabbis? Can't swing a cat without hitting one. My mom is pretty miffed about the lack of support from the Church. She's already been on the phone to the bishop, her priest and deacon in search of answers as to why no one has come to see our kiddo. She and Dad have decided they'll find a church tomorrow, grab a priest and drag him over here.

Yeah. Mom and Dad are here. Dad drove in from Artesia last night, got to E-town super early this morning, slept for a bit, and then hopped into the truck with Mom and made the drive to Houston. Dave and I don't know what we'd do without the support of my parents. Mom came down to help us before Nyx was born. Dad and my siblings came down after Nyx was admitted to the NICU at St. Jo's. Mom stayed with us until Nyx was discharged. She cooked, kept house, and did laundry so Dave and I could spend our days at the NICU and not worry about real life poo. And now they're here giving us emotional support. We know how incredibly lucky we are and are so thankful.

So anywho. Long update tonight. I'll post tomorrow with another update on Nyx. Until then, we'd appreciate any good vibes you can spare for the kiddo!

Tales of TCH: Part The First

2009-09-17T23:34:00.002-05:00

So I'm sitting in a room at the Ronald McDonald House at Texas Children's Hospital. Nyx took a turn for the worse and things got hairy really fast. She had a couple of Tet spells (turning blue, basically) on Tuesday. By Wednesday morning at her cardiologist visit, her oxygen saturation levels had dropped to the high sixties and low seventies. Our cardiologist got on the horn and within minutes we had orders to high-tail it to TCH. We were admitted through the ER a little after five and then to the cardiovascular ICU (CVICU) an hour or so later. She continued to have low sats so the decision was made to get her into surgery ASAP.

This morning at 7:15 Nyx was wheeled into the OR for a shunt procedure. She's just too tiny for the full repair so this was the best option at the time. A little after 2 in the afternoon, she emerged from the OR after the successful placement of the shunt. Her oxygen saturation levels are in the mid-nineties now and she's pink! Pink!!! My baby is pink!!!

This is a big deal, folks. Until today, Nyx has been this weird bluish purple pink depending on whether she's calm or crying. Eventually I'll get up some pics and you'll be able to see the difference.

She's currently sedated and in the CVICU until further notice. She has a long way to go before we leave the CVICU. She has to come off the ventilator and start breathing on her own again. She'll have her chest tube removed. (They had to deflate a lung to get the shunt into place.) She has to start eating again. And so on and so forth.

But we're hopeful she'll make a speedy recovery.

So anywho. That's what's going on here. It's been an incredibly stressful and harrowing forty-eight or so hours. I don't think there's any experience quite as heart wrenching or terrifying as watching your fifteen-day-old baby being wheeled into an OR for heart surgery. It's just...too much.

But we're hanging in there and slogging through it. It's sort of sad but this is our new normal. We've spent more time in hospitals than we have at home. And it sucks. Big time.

The Adventures of NICU Nyx, The Finale

2009-09-12T17:39:00.002-05:00

First of all, huge thanks to all the family, friends, and even strangers who have called/texted/emailed/commented/smoke signaled their best wishes and even offers of help when it's time for Nyx to have her surgery. You have no idea how amazing it feels to have such a wonderful support system available to us and the knowledge we won't have to go bankrupt on hotel fees while she's at TCH.

So Nyx is home. She was seen on Wednesday morning by a pediatric cardiologist out of Austin who moved around his schedule to drop by the NICU. Apparently she's the first baby in the St. Jo's NICU he's ever gone out of his way to examine. Yeah. Our kiddo is super special. You wouldn't believe how popular she was among the TAMU medical and nursing students, Blinn Nursing and EMT students, and even flight medics/nurses. Dave and I allowed them to listen to her heart (she has a hellaciously loud murmur) when she wasn't fussy. You could tell it really helped them quite a bit to see/hear this condition, especially the flight nurse.

Anywho. Back to Dr. Schaeffer. Nyx has what he describes as "garden variety TOF." She's not the very worst nor best case scenario. She's sort of pink Tet most of the time. The biggest issue Dr. Schaeffer discussed with us is Nyx's size. She's small. Like tiny for nearly 40 weeks. She's 18 inches long and just reached 6.5 pounds on Friday. It's the double whammy of that two vessel cord and the wonky heart.

Her size rules out most of the heart surgeons except for two, one in Houston at TCH and another in Dallas. We've opted for the Houston surgeon because he's close so we can control costs and because he does a lot of these surgeries. Dr. Raju (one of our neos) describes these repairs as the bread and butter of Dr. Frasier's team so that's comforting in an odd way.

The plan for right now is to keep Nyx at home as long as she's stable to grow. She'll continue to trend down (deteriorate) over the next few weeks or months until our hand is forced for the surgery. Fingers crossed she'll reach ten or twelve pounds before she her oxygen saturation levels drop to the high sixties. If she's still too tiny for the open heart surgery, we can try a temporary shunt until she's bigger. At this point, it all depends on the size of her pulmonary arteries. We won't know about those until we meet with another pediatric cardiologist on Wednesday.

Yeah. We're seeing a lot of doctors and planning on lots of tests. I'm trying not to think about costs but I figure we have a million dollar baby on our hands. Christ only knows how we're going to pay for all this but we'll figure out something. We always do.

Oh, and if you ever need heart medication for an infant, be prepared to lose your effing mind before you find a pharmacy able and/or willing to compound it for you. For fuck's sake, I thought I was going to blow a pupil Wednesday afternoon trying to get Nyx's propranolol prescription filled so she could be discharged the following morning. We finally, FINALLY, found a Walgreens with the medication in stock and the willingness to compound it for us. I almost wept with relief. Now I have to be hyper vigilant about keeping the 'scrip filled.

Adventures of NICU Nyx, Part Two

2009-09-06T18:21:00.001-05:00

Today marks Nyx's fourth day in the NICU. She's making progress. She's come off of oxygen and is on room air. She's had an IV removed and is no longer on the TNP (Total Parental Nutrition.) Her feedings have been increased to 40 mL. She doesn't have jaundice after all. Her umbilical line will stay in for a while as will the NG tube. They're slowly weaning the flow of room air through her nasal cannula. Her pulse ox levels stay in the 80s with occasional dips into the 70s--and that's a problem.

On Wednesday, a cardiologist will evaluate Nyx to decide if she stays in our local NICU for a few more weeks or if she goes straight to TCH for open heart surgery. Our preference would be for Nyx to get a little bigger and stronger before they start slicing and dicing but if she continues to struggle with oxygen saturation our hand will be forced.

This limbo of uncertainty is incredibly difficult. We can't make any plans beyond the next three hours. Tentatively, Dave will return to work sometime next week if they decide to keep Nyx at St. Jo's. We're not flush enough for him not to earn a paycheck while she's in the hospital. We try not to think about the financial impact this is going to have on our little family but, obviously, it's going to be great.

Our stress levels are high. Dave is trying to take care of me and the baby. He crashes at night but hops out of bed the second our alarm goes off. I think I've slept maybe twelve hours or so since giving birth four days ago. The rest of the time I just lie there and think--or cry.

Or I'm up pumping. Nyx can't breastfeed so I'm doing whatever I can to make as much milk as possible for her. My milk is starting to come in fully today. I can't even tell you what a relief that has been for us. Friday was particularly rough because I couldn't get more than a few drops of colostrum. I felt like such a fucking failure.

Emotionally and mentally, we're both worn out. This is experience is overwhelming--and it's just begun.

Friday was the lowest point for me so far. The reality of a baby with a congenital heart defect finally hit me. I'd been in the post-labor daze before that so I hadn't really had time to process what, exactly, it meant. I couldn't stay in the hospital for another night because our insurance wouldn't cover it (Fuckers!) so I was going to be discharged in the afternoon. I had pumping issues and I'd spent the night listening to other mommies in adjoining rooms tending their babies.

I cannot begin to explain to you how empty that feels. For nine months, you've carried this tiny life inside you. You've felt her kick and move. You're never alone. It's comforting. And then you give birth. Normally you have an infant to hold and cuddle and feed and love on but when you don't have that, when your baby is in an isolette in another part of the hospital, it is devastating. There is no word to describe the profound emptiness.

When my nurse wheeled me out of the post-partum ward, I had a breakdown. All these people in the waiting room gave me pitying looks. Downstairs in the lobby it was the same story. Most mommies in the maternity ward wheelchairs leave with a baby in their arms. I had a messenger bag and a sac of breastmilk collection bottles. Seeing the empty car seat set me off completely. I wept as we left the parking lot.

We stopped by Target to pick up a breast pump and the met Mom and Dad for dinner--my first real meal in days. When we walked into the restaurant, guess what song was playing? Won't Go Home Without You by Maroon Five.

What the flying fuck?!?! Seriously. I started laughing at the absurdity of the moment. If fate or God or whatever really wanted to fuck with my mind they couldn't have picked a better way to do it.

After our night visit, we finally went home. I sobbed in bed for quite a while. Dave held me and made it better. Having that empty bassinet next to our bed wasn't easy.

But I'm better now.

We're settling into a routine. I wake up at 6 to pump. We shower at 7 and have breakfast. We leave for the hospital around 8. At 9, we have our first visit one hour visit of the day. I pump in the back room of the nursery at 10 and then we spend a few minutes in the waiting room before heading down to the cafeteria for lunch. At noon, we have another one hour visit with Nyx. I pump again at 1 and then we sit in the waiting room. We visit again at 3 and pump at four. Then we go home and eat and deal with real life crap until 8 when we leave for the hospital again and our last visit at 9. I pump at 10. We leave the hospital. We go to bed. I get up at 2 to pump and then again at 6 and we start all over again.

Yeah. We see Nyx four hours a day. We finally got to start taking her out of the isolette to hold and feed her. That helps immensely. But it's still not enough. What new mom and dad want to only touch and feed and love on their baby four hours a day? It's an excruciating and unspeakable torture.

But we're getting through it. We have no other choice.

Adventures of NICU Nyx, Part One

2009-09-05T18:26:00.001-05:00

Or I Can Haz Baby With Heart Defect

Calixta Nyx was born on September 2, 2009 after, like, 17 hours of labor. On Tuesday afternoon, I had an OB visit that went not so well. My blood pressure had spiked dangerously high (165/104, 167/109, and 139/98 after 30 minutes of resting with my feet up) so we had two decisions. I could go on complete bed rest until the baby came on her own or I could be induced. Since my cervix was ripe, I chose induction as the safest route.

That night, though, my water broke at a quarter 'til one. My contractions started almost immediately so I labored at home until 5:30. I was supposed to call the hospital at that time to get instructions for my induction. Dave gave them a ring and they told us to come on over since my contractions were three to four minutes apart and I had the blood pressure issues.

I labored until almost two in the afternoon without meds and minimal intervention. I had two amazing nurses who were totally respectful of my wishes for a low intervention birth. Mom crocheted on a couch and timed contractions for us. Dave was unbelievably supportive. He walked with me and held me through contractions. He kneaded my back and encouraged me through the rough spots. It was almost textbook.

Until my blood pressure started to spike. It was high all through labor but by noon it was back in the 160s. I had two choices at that point: magnesium sulfate or an epidural. Around that same time, I stopped progressing. I had labored for three hours without progress. My cervix was completely effaced but just wouldn't dilate beyond 6 centimeters.

I had a moment of panic when I realized something wasn't right. I chose the epidural to lower my blood pressure as quickly as possible and the pitocin to get my cervix moving again. Neither were particularly bad. I would have preferred not being stuck 7 times by the anesthesiologist but whatever. He got the epidural in and I got my pitocin and my cervix went from 6-10 in less than an hour.

I gave one test push a few minutes before four in the afternoon. The nurse's eyes widened. The next thing I know they're all running around setting up the room. I could feel Nyx right down there, just waiting around so when I got the okay to push again, I did. In a handful of pushes, there she was.

The cord was wrapped around her neck twice. That wasn't cool. She started screaming after a little sternum rubbing and was plopped onto my chest. I held her for a while before they took her over and cleaned her up a bit. Soon she was back in my arms and trying to breastfeed. She latched on for a minute or two but seemed disinterested. Dave took her over to the nursery to be cleaned and weighed while I was cleaned up and moved to my post partum suite. He left a little after that to find some grub since he hadn't eaten all day.

After an hour or so, I started to worry. Where the hell was my baby? I asked the nurse and was given the runaround about how it takes a little time, blah, blah, blah. I knew something wasn't right.

And then the neonatologist came inside my room and delivered a bombshell.

Nyx wasn't breathing well. She had a massive heart murmur. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

I went cold. This wasn't right. I'd had a great pregnancy and a shit load of ultrasounds, all of them unremarkable. How could my baby have a heart problem?

When Dave returned, I had to break the news. He was clearly upset. A little while later, a second neonatologist came into the room. They'd done a quick xray and could see obvious abnormalities of her heart. They were waiting for an echo. They wanted to give her various medications. Did we have a preference as to which hospital we might send her to?

We made decisions as quickly as possible and hoped for the best. Dave was able to go down to the NICU to see her and speak further with the neonatologists. I had to wait in the room. It was excruciating.

Soon Dave returned and described Nyx to me. It was painful to hear. I imagined the worst. I was told I could go see her so my nurse bundled me up in a wheelchair but when we arrived they wouldn't allow us into the nursery. They were doing a "procedure" of some kind. I could hear my baby shrieking but couldn't comfort her. I was devastated.

Not long after, Dr. Hilal, our neonatologist, returned with worse news. They were going to fly her out to Texas Children's Hospital. I could come see her but only for a moment. Again, my nurse packed me up and Dave rolled me down to the NICU. There were wires and tubes every where. She looked a little blue in the hands and feet. It was all I could do not to break down right there.

And then Dr. Hilal gave us some better news. The cardiologist out of Austin who had just studied her echo felt an immediate move wasn't necessary. They were going to try some non-invasive therapies. Suddenly there was hope--and a diagnosis.

My baby has Tetralogy of Fallot.

Cankles & Corn Dog Toes

2009-08-29T21:27:00.002-05:00

Oh, good God, am I swollen! It's, like, pitting edema bad. My blood pressure is still okay so my doc isn't overly concerned. I can no longer wear my size 10 Crocs (I wear a 7 1/2 when I'm not knocked up) and had to pick out a pair of man-sized flip flops from Old Navy. I want to burst into tears every time I look at my fat cankles and corn dog toes. Seriously. My toes look like those tiny corn dog bites you can pick up in the freezer section. Can you say sexy?

Also I think my mom is trying to kill me with all her shopping trips. She keeps telling me that walking is good for me and I keep telling her that walking would be much easier if I didn't have a watermelon pressed up against my hooha. Her response? Quit whining. Also, tonight, we made a run to Walmart and the grocery store and she hit every pot hole and speed bump she could find. I finally asked if she was trying to knock the baby loose. She said no but I'm not so sure...

On the baby front, I had no change in dilation this week but I was 50% effaced on Thursday. This kiddo is taking her sweet time. She still has a few days left until her eviction date so I'm not quite ready to pull out all the stops (evening primrose oil, red raspberry leaf tea, castor oil, red hot monkey sex...) We've agreed not to even discuss induction until 41 or so weeks unless there is a medical necessity. I could be looking at another 2 weeks of waddling and sporting the "smuggling a watermelon and two cantaloupes" look but whatever. It's all about the baby. When she's ready, she'll let us know.

Oh, and I cut my hair. I hacked off 24 inches for Locks of Love and another 3 or 4 during the haircut. I'll post pics later. I'm really enjoying the new look. It was way overdue.

Due South

2009-08-25T05:13:00.000-05:00

So for the last few weeks, my family has been struggling with the realities of the crappy economy. Recessions aren't kind to the oil and gas industry. Dad's worked for the same company for nearly thirty years. He's risen through the ranks and has established himself as an incredibly useful employee. Thankfully, he was offered a chance to keep his job rather than be laid off--but it comes with a price.

Starting tomorrow, Dad will now work out of Mexico. Of all the places they wanted to send him, this is the closest and makes the best use of his skill set. He'll live on the borderish in a hotel for a few weeks and then move into an apartment or town house until next spring. He and Mom will buy a house some time after that.

Mom will travel between E-town and Dad's new space every three weeks or so. My sister, Tricia, is still in high school and rather than drag her down to a new place, my parents have chosen to make sacrifices so she can graduate with her friends. Joey will take over for Mom while she's gone. It won't be easy but they're going to make it work.

I know it's silly but it's really upset me. I haven't lived with my parents in, what, seven years or so, but it's still hard to think that my daddy won't be in E-town when we go home. I don't like the thought of my dad being alone in Mexico or my mom on the road every three weeks. I hate that my parents won't get to see as much of the baby as they'd originally planned. I know they still plan to make as many trips up here as possible--and we hope to do the same--but it's just going to be more difficult. We're looking into web cams as a possible solution.

For the most part, both of our families are centered in the E-town area so we could take one trip and see everyone. If we planned well, we could even see Dave's far flung relatives who come into town for the holidays. Hopefully Dad will come home from Mexico for Christmas and such but who knows. At this point, the word on the grapevine is that the district Dad's taking over is in dire straights. It's one of the reasons he was asked to go down there. The man is a hard ass capable of whipping people into shape whether they like it or not.

So anywho. That's where we are right now as a family. It's bittersweet. New baby. New addresses. Changes all around.

Nesting and Stuff

2009-08-24T01:28:00.002-05:00

Nope. No baby yet. I've had, like, twenty emails and texts over the weekend since I've gone off radar. LOL. It's nice to know people care!!!

Apparently I'm nesting and I'm not sure I like it. I freely admit that Dave does the bulk of the housework around here. Cooking and red hot marital relations are my contributions to the household. We clean bathrooms together but that's about it. I mean, I'll load the occasional dish into the dishwasher or unload it once in a while. I've even been known to wash a load of laundry if I'm completely out of jeans or tees or undies.

Over the last few days, though, I've gone insane. I was struck by this relentless urge to Pledge something, anything. So I did. I organized and decluttered my desk. I cleaned the bookshelves. I bought a new table cloth and curtains and curtain rods. I folded and stacked and restacked my cloth diaper stash. I just vacuumed and dusted the living room--and it's one o'clock in the morning! HELP!

My mommy is coming down on Tuesday! I get calls from her, Dad, Tricia, Joey, and Marcos at least once a day. It's odd to have my brothers asking about the state of my uterus. I'll be more relaxed when Mom gets here. She's done this, like, four times. I'm hoping she'll take some time to rest too. The last few weeks at Casa H have been hectic, especially now that we're an international household--but I'll blog more about that tomorrow. Oh, and Ama, my grandmother, assures me I won't deliver until the first week of September because the full moon arrives that week. I'm inclined to believe her. She's never been wrong about this sort of thing before, you know?

I did think I was going into labor the other morning before our pedi visit. I felt like yakking and had some hellacious contractions but the second we stepped into the pediatrician's waiting room everything stopped. Later, at Target, I had contractions again. Some of them bad enough I had to stop walking. I jokingly mentioned to Dave that dropping Zaphod on her head in the shampoo aisle of Target would make a really great blog post--and cement my status as super classy, lol.

Oh! Pedi visit went so well. Dr. S breastfed all of her kids and is super supportive of breastfeeding moms. She doesn't use those ridiculous weight charts that mandate such and such percentage of weight gain by this day or that day. She considers every baby to be individual. As long as Zaphod has the right amount of wet/poopie diapers and gains consistently, Dr. S won't even mention supplementation. She's also a believer in delayed vaccination. Zaphod will get DTAP (because pertussis is prevalent in this area,) HiB, and the polio vaccine and that's it. We'll add in the others as she gets older. I'm a smidge worried about the DTAP because my cousin's cutie, Landon, had a major reaction to it. Like stopped breathing. Yikes. So I'll probably have a mild panic attack when she gets that shot.

We finished the nursery and put a bassinet (Pack n Play, actually) in the bedroom. Bosley is not amused. He sniffs the bassinet and snorts on it. He seems to be coming to terms with the inevitable. We've stockpiled dog toys in the Harry Potter closet downstairs so we'll have things to give him when the baby gets here. "Look, Bosley, a baby! And a new fat duck!" Fingers crossed bribery works with dogs!

I've completed the last of my must-finish projects. I'm hoping to have time to write one more short story for a private invitation by an editor to an upcoming anthology. After that, I'll probably just work on the m/m novel I'm midway through at the moment. I'm finding it difficult to work because the fingers on my right hand have gone completely numb. Seriously, if I were pervy, I could give myself "The Stranger."

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

2009-08-18T18:02:00.002-05:00

Or, um, don't. Dave and I are really struggling with the issue of vaccination. No, we're not those fringe folks who think all vaccines are evil or cause autism. We just have valid concerns about the staggering number of vaccines given to babies in the first twelve months of their lives. I mean, seriously, does a baby really need sixteen to twenty vaccines? I don't plan on allowing Zaphod to splash around in raw sewage, filling her sippy cup with filthy water from the first puddle I stumble across in the Target parking lot, or taking her down to the docks in Houston and rubbing her all over the various folks stepping off of the boats they've stowed away on from lands far and away.

Look, Zaphod is going to be breastfed (at least for the first week, although my goal is twelve months) so she's going to get all of my antibodies from my magic tatas and their fountain of colostrum. If I get the flu vaccine and breastfeed, guess what? Zaphod just got the flu vaccine. So why the hell does she need a Hep B vaccine within hours of being born? I have Hep B immunities from the vaccine. I'd like to think by newborn won't be coming into contact with blood, semen, or body fluids raging with Hep B virus. And rotavirus? She's not going to daycare. She'll be home with me or Dave, like, ninety-eight percent of the time. We're dedicated hand washers so the odds of us giving her the virus are, like, slim to none.

And what's up with the chicken pox vaccine? Since when is chicken pox such a horrid disease kiddos need vaccinations against it? Having the chicken pox is a rite of passage. You stay home, eat ice cream, watch cartoons, take oatmeal baths, and let your mommy slather pink lotion all over your itchy bits. It's like vacation--just with the itchy squirmies.

What happened to letting kids develop immune systems the good old-fashioned way? Dude, when I was a kid, my mom and aunts made sure we all played together when one of us had chicken pox. We all shared the same coughs and colds and bouts of flu. We turned out just fine.

So that's where we are at the moment. We meet with our pediatrician on Friday and plan to discuss our options, namely delaying some of the vaccines. We're sort of interested in the idea of one live virus and one aluminum containing vaccine at a time. Over my dead body will we allow Zaphod to receive four or five or six vaccines in a single visit. That's insanity. How the hell are their tiny little immune systems supposed to react to such a bombardment?

We're gearing up for "The Look" from our family and friends when they find out we're delaying or denying vaccines. I was pleasantly surprised by how supportive my mom and dad were. Mom was stunned to see how many vaccines are required now. My brother reacted badly to every vaccination he ever received so she looks at it from that angle.

We haven't fully researched our options when it comes to enrolling Zaphod in kindergarten. If it comes down to it, I guess we'll look into homeschooling. Then again, with the state of education in Texas, that might not be such a bad thing...

Foushta!

2009-08-17T21:45:00.001-05:00

So Bosley has developed this totally amusing and slightly annoying habit of never allowing anyone else to have the last word. No, really. If we command him to stop barking at the fat cat outside or speak sharply to discipline him, he does this hilarious grumble, grumble, bark, bark, grumble right back at us. I have no idea why he does this. He's at that teenage state of Great Dane development so I'm guessing he's reached his sassy age. It goes something like this.

Me: Quiet!
Bosley: Bark!
Me: No! Don't bark at Mama!
Bosley: Bark!
Me: Look here, Sassyfrass! Don't talk back to me!
Bosley: Grumble. Grumble. Bark.

And then he'll dramatically throw himself onto the floor and sigh loudly or snort at me.

Dave and I were struck by how much his behavior mirrors that of Dr. Van Helsing (aka Mel Brook) in Dracula! Dead and Loving It! You know that scene where Van Helsing and Dracula are trying to get the last word? Yeah. It's like that.

"Foushta!"

*Baby update: Had another visit today. I'm now 3 centimeters dilated and the baby is fully engaged. I'm still having a mix of Braxton-Hicks and holy-crap-that-effing-hurts contractions. Doc A estimates the baby won't make her debut for another week or so. My mommy is heading this way sometime next week.

Oh, and Dave is nesting. No really. He's cleaning carpets on Wednesday and changing linens. The man has lost his ever-lovin' mind. The extent of my nesting? Noticing the dust on the coffee table but being too damn tired to roll off the couch to do anything about it.

Home Stretch

2009-08-15T17:50:00.002-05:00

So we're just a day short of being 37 weeks. The baby is doing really well. Her cord problem doesn't seem to be causing any issues. She's a smidge small but that's okay. My amniotic fluid levels are awesome. She moves all day long and has a great heartbeat. We'll have her kidneys checked out a few times over the first year of her life to make sure they're okay but other than that everything is just fine. Huge relief!

This week I was lucky enough to be introduced to the wonders of prodromal labor. I started having lower backache, cramps and the occasional gnarly contraction on Monday. By my Wednesday appointment, I was nearly two centimeters dilated. The last few days, I've gone maybe twelve or so hours between contractions/cramping/backache. *TMI ALERT* (I lost part of my mucus plug today. Can you say icky? Why the hell don't the pregnancy books tell you about that lovely experience?)

Being in sort of labor but not is tiring but whatever. Dr. A is totally confident I'll have the no intervention labor I want but I'm keeping my mind open and accepting of any eventuality. Emergencies happen and I don't want to set myself up for disappointment. At this point, though, I'm thrilled my body is doing what it's supposed to--just not in the usual way. Most women go through all these labor changes over a few days and get it over with but not me apparently. But, hey, I've never done things normally. Why would my birthing experience be any different?

We attended our breastfeeding class the other day. Our instructor was totally fabulous. She also teaches WIC moms so she's not one of those lactation consultants who thinks you need to buy a super expensive pump and all kinds of gadgets. She involved all the husbands/partners in the class and even taught them how to provide privacy for a mom nursing in public with newspapers hugs and smoochies, and the old standby blanket. Honestly, I think Dave took way more notes than I did. I am so glad he's so involved in this pregnancy. There's no way I could even attempt to tackle exclusive breastfeeding without his support.

Let's see. What else? Oh! Dave put together the stroller and car seat this afternoon. Bosley lost his ever-lovin' mind. You have not seen hilarious until you see a big ole Great Dane barking and snarling at a stroller. Dave probably made it worse by chasing him around the living room with it. Bosley seems convinced the stroller is stamped with Satan's seal or something. I'm really looking forward to our first walk as a family.

We hit up Kroger's today for their super double coupon event. Mama got her save on, lol! I saved $150 in coupons and got $400 worth of groceries for a little over $200. Most of it was pantry stuff. We decided to stock up the pantry for the next few months. I got boxes of Kellogg's cereal for fifty cents a piece and free yogurt, cheese, Miracle Whip, mayo, ice cream, toothpaste and shaving cream. I paid less than a dollar for just about everything else in our basket including Charmin, Bounty, pasta and more.

I was so stoked to go through checkout with my massive stack of coupons. It was fun to see my kindred spirits working through the aisles and sifting through their coupon boxes. I mean, okay, I was the youngest couponer in that store by about three decades but whatever. I'm keeping the art of living lean alive, lol.

Road Trip Rundown

2009-08-09T10:36:00.002-05:00

Whoa. So it's been a while since I blogged. I've been swamped. We drove halfway across Texas for our baby shower and then drove right back--all in the same weekend. Can you say exhausting? But it was worth it. It was so nice to see our families. Dave got to spend some time with Kati's kiddos and I got to spend some time with my crazy family. The shower was a blast too.

Once we were back in town, Dave went straight back to work. He's piling up PTO hours for paternity leave and we're trying to finish padding our savings account. We've done really, really well since learning we were pregnant. I mean, seriously, money is the last thing on my mind--and I'm so grateful for that. I really don't know how people juggle the stress of a new baby with the stress of finances. Can you say nightmare?

I had two new releases on back-to-back Fridays (Sparks from Cobblestone and Ultimate Prize from EC). I didn't hit nearly all the promo spots I wanted and Swiss-cheese-brained me forgot to reserve a banner spot on a couple of the review sites I like. Silly, self! Oh well. Advertising two weeks following a release is just as good. Right, lol?

I finished my novel targeted at Silhouette Desire and took the query plunge. I nearly barfed when I handed the envelope to Dave-O for the mailbox. I feel really settled and secure and confident when it comes to writing erotic romance and erotica, like I've finally hit my stride, but when it comes to category, I'm really nervous. I had the fabulous ladies and dudes at Romance Divas run my query and synopsis through the ringer. Fingers crossed!

I'll update on the baby and pregnancy tomorrow. Things are going really well and the umbilical cord scare we had turned out just fine. We'll have another ultrasound next week to take a peek at my amniotic fluid levels. If everything is cool, we'll just keep on keepin' on until Zaphod is ready to make her debut. If not, well, we'll cross that bridge if we get to it.

Anywho. Here's the highlights from our few days in Eldorado.

1) My dad has some swelling problems. (Heat, diabetes, heart stuff, huge-o stress at work) He couldn't find a pair of ankle socks to wear the morning he was getting ready to head out to drag race his beloved car so he took a pair of scissors and cut off a pair of tube socks at the ankle. I thought Dave was going to pass out he was laughing so hard. Mom? Yeah. She wasn't nearly as impressed.

2) Mom and Dad's dog is an outside dog, for the most part. Bosley is an inside dog. Dad got a kick out of trying to stir up animosity between the two dogs. Here's a snippet of a convo I overheard.

Dad to Doofus: Look at that! He's in the house, in the air conditioning, eating scrambled eggs Dorie made! What a rich bastard!

Then Dad proceeded to feed Doofus a hamburger left over from grilling the night before so who, exactly, is spoiled?

3) Speaking of burgers. Avoid, like the effing plague, the DQ in Llano. We had the worst service ever. It was so bad I had to complain. They didn't have what we wanted so we had to change our order. We had to sit in the drive-thru for half an hour while cars backed up behind us. Dave was about to blow his stack when they finally brought our food. It was disgusting. Seriously. My burger was gray and icky. It also tasted like Windex. So yeah. Gross.

4) On the way home, my iPod died so Dave plugged his in and forced me to sit through his musical choices for the rest of the drive. That particular slice of his playlist was country heavy. Garth Brooks, to be exact.

Me: Do you remember those hideous Garth Brooks shirts? You know, the ones with blocks of color, like purple and black, or checkered patterns?

Dave, uneasily: Yeah....

Me, guffawing: OMG. You wore them, didn't you?!?!

Dave: No comment.

It's times like that I enjoy the age difference the most. There is nothing funnier than knowing Dave tucked his black jeans into his white sneakers or rocked out to Garth Brooks while trying to pick up chicks with teased hair and The Claw bangs. He doesn't see the humor, of course, but it just slays me.

Cloth Diapers

2009-07-07T15:14:00.009-05:00

So I've realized the bulk of people telling Dave and I *not* to cloth diaper are people who apparently haven't seen a cloth diaper since, like, 1930 or something. Cloth diapers have come a long, long, long way since the days of pins and folds. Yes, you can still get prefolds and diaper covers but pins have gone the way of the dodo. There's this wonderful invention called a Snappi that eliminates the need for pins and the risk of poking your squirmy munchkin. Also cloth diapers come in various forms now: pockets, all-in-ones, fitted, contours, one-size. Yes, cloth diapers are more expensive in the beginning (one-size dipes run from $18-26 a piece, covers from about $10) but they are so worth the investment.

Here's a rundown of our diaper stash.

(Left) 2 Dozen Unbleached Chinese Prefolds Infant Size, diaper service quality
(Right) 2 Doezn Unbleached Chinese Prefolds Premium Size, diaper service quality

(They haven't been washed and stripped yet so they aren't fluffy.)

(Left) 3 Thirsties Diaper Covers
(Right) 3 Bumkins Diaper Covers in Dr. Seuss Print

4 Fuzzi Bunz One Size Pocket Diapers

(Top) 2 Happy Heiny One Size Pocket Diapers
(Bottom) 4 Prorap Newborn Diaper Covers

Not a cloth diaper. This is Bosley with his duck head. He's about to start weeping because I was in the nursery, sorting out my cloth diapers. Have I mentioned what a huge blubbery baby he is about the new addition to the family? Seriously, there is nothing more pathetic than a 150 pound Great Dane pouting and whining because he's no longer the only "child."

Das Bump

2009-06-29T12:42:00.003-05:00

Well, folks, we hit 30 weeks today, and, holy hell, do I have one humongous bump! For a woman who's gained less than five pounds (or maybe none at all, depending on which scale I've hopped onto) I'm just stunned at the size of Zaphod's uterine cocoon. I'm almost terrified to imagine what I'm going to look like in a few more weeks. Doesn't help that my tatas have swollen to massive proportions. I'm flirting with EE territory I fear--and my milk hasn't even come in yet. Lord help me! I might have to hang counterweights off the back pockets of my jeans to keep from tipping over!

Anywho. Here you go. Point and laugh at Das Bump. Oh, and don't stare too long at the chicken wings. Losing fifty pounds in six months does that to a body. No worries though. As soon as Zaphod makes her debut, Mama's right back on the fitness wagon. I'll have that flab toned up in no time!

Fruits of My Labor

2009-06-25T00:21:00.001-05:00

So I chose not to put in the big garden as we'd planned. The idea of dragging my huge-o pregnant booty outside in 100 plus degree heat and 98% plus humidity day after day to tend a garden didn't sound quite as appealing once I really gave it some thought. I compromised with a selection of patio plants. The plants are doing fabulous because I love on them every morning but, unfortunately, they're just not producing. I'm not sure if I picked a bad batch of plants or if it's just the unbelievable heat (100 plus degrees for the last two weeks with unbelievably high humidity.)

Okay. So I did get one tiny strawberry, two grape tomatoes and a bell pepper. The plants are producing but just really measly little veggies and fruits. No, really. Behold the fruits of my labor.

That tomato is about the size of a dime, folks. A dime. Gah! Maybe I chose plants from the pixie people range. I don't know. It's so aggravating it's hilarious. Every time I look at my tiny tomato and bell pepper I can't help but giggle at the idea they'd be perfect for cooking up a Lilliputian feast.

Peanut Gallery

2009-06-24T01:33:00.001-05:00

So there are times when being married to someone who deals with the gnarliest, nastiest of emergencies day in and day out is a perk. Some days it's annoying as hell.

Yesterday, I woke up with this unshakable need to clean. Everything. So I did. I even hauled laundry downstairs. Bosley kept giving me the you're-gonna-get-in-trouble stare as I worked my way through two stories of the house. See, I promised Dave I wouldn't do any housework that requires bending, lifting, or smelly cleaners until after the baby gets here. Bosley knew it. I knew it. But I did it anyway.

And then I got sick. My nose gushed like you would not believe. It looked like someone botched a surgery in our powder room. (Quick digression--doesn't powder room sound so snooty?) While I was trying to stem the blood flow, I started having Braxton-Hicks contractions. One of them actually hurt so I'm fairly certain it was a real contraction since B-H don't hurt.

I called Dave but he didn't answer. That's normal since he's typically dealing with a patient whenever I get the urge to dial. By the time he called back, I'd kicked back in a recliner, gulped a gallon of water, and had finally stopped bleeding and/or contracting. Of course, as I'm trying to explain this to him, he's asking questions. For some reason, his partner seemed to think he needed to jump in on the conversation and offer me all kinds of unwanted advice. So then I got snippy. Like pregnant hippo snippy.

That is one of the worst parts of being married to a medic. Everyone in the peanut gallery needs to chime in with their own version of treatment. It's so annoying.

Sinfully Delicious

2009-06-22T23:49:00.000-05:00

Sinfully Delicious, a naughty tale centering around a couple and their unashamed food fetish, hit the virtual shelves on Friday. It's something of a departure for me. I considered softening the heroine's gluttony but in the interest of being true to the character, I left her as is. I'm curious to see what the reader response will be...

Blurb:

Critically acclaimed chef, Gabe Raeburn, lives for indulging the gluttonous whims of his lover, Carmen Montes, a gourmet food shop owner. Every Monday night, Gabe treats Carmen to a veritable smorgasbord of delicious delights and the kinkiest of food play. The melding of hot sex with the sweet and savory treats Gabe creates epitomizes Carmen’s very own version of nirvana. She revels in the freedom of their relationship, in their shared fascination and absolute obsession with food.

A true glutton, Carmen is rarely satisfied. Always, she craves more—more food, more sex, more of Gabe. Just one more spicy tryst on Gabe’s dining room table, one more cupcake, one more sinfully rich chocolate truffle . . . .

But with a crazed food critic out for her blood, Carmen’s gluttony may be a weakness that proves fatal.

If you're feeling froggy, take a peek at an excerpt or purchase.

Solstice Caroling

2009-06-21T01:37:00.003-05:00

Walking in the grass
It's so fine
Don't need shoes
In the summertime

~Spongebob Squarepants

So it's no secret I am a Spongebob fanatic. One of my absolute favorite episodes ever features Spongebob wearing the cutest little pink flower framing his face as he skips into the Krusty Krab and showers everyone with flower blossoms from a basket while solstice caroling. Why? Because it's the start of summer.

And, would you look at that, today is the first day of summer too! What a coincidence! So kick of those shoes, soak up the sun, and enjoy the longest day of the summer, folks!!!

As for me, I'm going to break out the construction paper and make a pink flower face ring for Bosley...

Pass!

2009-06-19T01:10:00.002-05:00

So I passed my three hour GTT. I totally snoopy danced when I got the results. And asked Dave-O for a donut. Not sure what the deal was with my one hour. My three hour results were all well within the normal ranges. Apparently the one hour is notorious for false positives. Am I the only one who wonders why the hell they keep giving it if it continues to provide bogus results?

Waste of time. Waste of money.

English Vice

2009-06-17T23:05:00.002-05:00

My latest naughty tale released today at Ellora's Cave. I had a ton of fun writing this one because I was able to explore some of the darker fantasies lurking in the far recesses of my mind. A few people have asked about the title. English vice is actually a term used to describe spanking games, particularly over-the-knee style paddling and over-the-desk caning. If you're brave, Google it. But don't say I didn't warn you first!

Here's a blurb and excerpt for your enjoyment. You can read another snippet or purchase at Ellora's Cave.

Blurb:

Every Wednesday night, Jas revels in the debauched sexual games Cy concocts. The stinging kiss of leather, the burn of hemp rope and the soft thud of suede transport her to plains of ecstasy beyond her wildest dreams. Pain and pleasure. Submission and trust.

For Cy, these evenings feed his need for kink and fuel his addiction to Jasmine, his luscious Latina goddess. With Jas, he finds that deeper connection he’s always craved. He senses she needs him just as desperately. And it terrifies him.

Love and lust—Cy knows only too well how the two can be confused. Jas knows differently…but convincing Cy means denying herself her greatest desire.

To read a longer, not for the faint of hear excerpt, clicky clicky.

2

2009-06-17T01:34:00.002-05:00

So today--all right, yesterday actually--was our second wedding anniversary. Two (er, three) days ago we celebrated the seventh anniversary of our first date. I know. Time flies when you're having fun and all that.

We had all kinds of detailed plans for today, namely heading to Conroe to eat at one of my favorite restaurants, picking up the old skool rocking chair for the nursery, and hitting up a Carter's baby outlet. Since I had a rough night--oh, insomnia and hip pain, how I loathe thee--we ended up scrapping our plans for something a little more low key.

We laughed in the face of frugality, kicked down the a/c to the low seventies and got all snoodled up in our blacked out bedroom for a late morning of snuggles and dozing. Instead of an expensive lunch, we grabbed big, fat yummy burritos from Freebirds and hit up Target for Father's Day gifts and cards. A slice of my homemade orange pound cake with a smidge of strawberry infused whipped cream and naughty time topped off the night.

Best. Anniversary. Ever.

Oh, and Dave-O brought me the usual gorgeous flowers and card. Don't let him fool you. The man is the sappiest of romantics and I love him for it. I won't share the inscription in my card but I'm seriously tearing up over it right now. And, no, it's not pregnancy hormones. Seriously, I always wonder what our kids are going to think when they finally go through the boxes of letters and cards we've exchanged over the seven years we've been together. It's like a Nicholas Sparks novel, lol.

Pin Cushion

2009-06-09T21:56:00.001-05:00

Worst. Morning. Evah.

Since I failed my GTT by ten points, I had to retake it today--just old skool Medieval torture style this time. I had to fast starting a little before midnight and be at the lab by 0730. Look, when you're knocked up, you get thirsty. Even though I tried to H2O load all yesterday evening, it did me little good. By the time I reached the lab, I was parched. Thankfully, Dave-O chose to fast with me so we could share in the misery together. Aw, I know. How sweet, huh?

So anywho. I had a fasting blood draw at 0740 and then had to chug that disgusting orange-flavored dextrose bomb again. I had three more draws at 0840, 0940, and 1040. Yeah. All in the same arm, 3 in the same vein. It looks like someone tried to hammer a railroad spike through my antecubital. Don't even get me started on the nausea and headache. Seriously, though, there has to be a better way to test for gestational diabetes.

Anywho. Dave and I staked out a good spot in the lab waiting room. We made sure we could see the TV and claimed three seats. I took my knitting, a new book, and a stack of coupons to clip. Over the last few days I've been struggling with the first sex scene in the futuristic romance novel I've been writing. Of course, as I clipped coupons and had no access to a pen or paper, I had a mental breakthrough. Figures, lol.

That was my day. I'm off to tackle this steamy scene. Might go put a bag of frozen peas on my arm too.

Hosed

2009-06-03T23:56:00.001-05:00

So we have this possum problem. Our house backs up to a woodsy lot filled with a veritable menagerie of nocturnal critters. As self-proclaimed protector of this property, Bosley looks upon these nightly interlopers as his archenemies. He likes to snap at bats and bark at owls and growl at squirrels.

Well, an hour ago, I let Bosley out for a potty run and he immediately made a beeline for the back fence. It took my eyes a second to adjust to the darkness--but then I spotted it: a snarling possum reared up on it's hind legs atop the fence. Stupid move on the possum's part. I don't know why it didn't hop to the nearest branch and skitter. Bosley is tall enough now to put his front paws up on the top of the fence. The possum didn't have a snowcone's chance in hell.

This isn't the first time Bosley and a possum have come face-to-face. Last time, I almost ended up on the fanged end of the deal so I stayed well back from the skirmish tonight. Still I worried Bosley would get seriously hurt if he actually managed to grab hold of the spitting beastie. When he snapped the possum's tail between his teeth, I realized it was going to get ugly and fast. I looked around, desperate to avoid a midnight rush to the nearest vet ER. And then I saw the hose. Aha!

So I waddled my pregnant bootie across the yard, bent down (no easy feat with Das Bump) and grabbed the sprinkler. I jogged back across the yard to the spigot and unscrewed the hose. I turned the water on full blast, put my thumb over the end, and sprayed Bosley right in the face. He looked so betrayed, but it was the only way. I spent a few minutes alternating the water between marsupial and Great Dane until I managed to drive the possum into our neighbor's yard.

Bosley is still sulking. Glad to see he's not the least bit grateful that I saved him from a nasty bite and stitches. He threw something of a tantrum when he came in the house and slung water all over the kitchen before trotting into the living room and throwing himself down on the couch with a loud harrumph.

It's so nice to be appreciated....

Dextrose Death Bomb

2009-06-02T23:38:00.000-05:00

So this afternoon I had my glucose tolerance test to check for gestational diabetes. They send you home with this bottle of flat orange soda with fifty (50!) grams of dextrose dissolved in ten ounces. You drink it and head in to the lab for a blood draw an hour later.

Since I've lived on a clean diet for the last 14 months (limiting my sugar and white flour intake,) my system reacted, um, violently to the introduction of that syrupy sweet drink in five minutes of guzzling. Seriously, it was all I could do not to dry heave in the parking lot of the lab.

Here's hoping I pass the test. I don't think I can live through that experience again if I have to take the three hour GTT. We'll need a yak bag in the front seat....

Wacky Mac

2009-05-31T23:54:00.001-05:00

So earlier this evening, Dave and I decided we'd grill some chicken. We haven't had old skool baked mac 'n cheese in a while so I mixed up a batch and popped it into the oven as our carbohydrate dish for the evening. Yeah. Um. I don't know what the hell happened but some of the eggs decided to sort of scramble.

You'd think a girl with ten plus years of cooking classes wouldn't have these sorts of disasters erupting from her oven but there it was. I'm convinced it was the lack of sour cream in the egg, milk and butter mixture. I've used that recipe a bajillion times and that's the only difference between tonight and the past.

Even though it looked like a bizarre macaroni and cheese quiche, it tasted so effing good. I'm kinda toying with the idea of trying to replicate it with some yummy ham or breakfast sausage the next time we're having brunch. It will either be totally scrumptious or a barftastic disaster. I'm feeling a bit adventurous lately so I'm going to go for it.

This is the second time in as many weeks I've had a major uh-oh in the kitchen. I made some whole wheat zucchini banana bread that refused to rise. I kept poking it with a knife while cursing the kitchen gods. Finally, I realized I'd forgotten to add baking soda. *Facepalm*

I'm convinced it's pregnancy brain. Zaphod has completely sucked my brain dry of all omega fatty acids. I think the DHA supplement in my prenatal vitamin is all that's keeping me from deflating into a slobbering, jabbering mess. From what I hear, it doesn't get any better after the baby makes her debut.

Good thing Dave has a stomach of steel. Who know what kind of nightmares I'll be dishing out in a few weeks?!?

Down the Rabbit Hole

2009-05-29T22:06:00.003-05:00

So the other day while Dave and I waited to be called in for my ultrasound, we heard the announcement that Sonia Sotomayor had been chosen as Obama's nominee for the open position on the SCOTUS. I didn't think much of it since I was reading this totally lame and yet unbelievably engaging article on Pat Boone in some random magazine I'd picked up from the stack in the shared radiology/cardiology waiting area. As I was reading all about Pat Boone's favorite desserts, I suddenly heard Tucker Carlson start shouting wildly, "But she's a racist!"

Wha-?

I glanced up to see Tucker Carlson loosing his ever-loving mind on Fox News. I mean a straight up meltdown over Sonia Sotomayor's alleged racism. I sort of a laughed it off and headed into my ultrasound. By that evening, the entire far right wing of the GOP was in an apopleptic fit over Sotomayor. And I have to say, I find it hilarious.

First of all, it's quite apparent very few of these people screaming "RACISM" have criticial thinking skills. If you read the full context of the essay in question, Sotomayor simply states that a Latina woman with a life experience similar to hers would likely make different choices than a white male. I can't disagree with that. Our life experiences, whether we're born into wealth or poverty, the majority or minority, color our judgments and ideologies. To argue any differently seems a bit ridiculous.

Example? My dad went to school during the sixties. Because he was Latino, he was shoved into this little shithole of a classroom with all the other brown kids and treated as if he were mentally retarded because he spoke mainly Spanish. Was my dad slow? Um, no. Did he really need to be segregated from the rest of his kindergarten class? Hell no. If anything, Dad was lightyears ahead of the other non-Latino students because he could communicate in two languages. Now, all these years later, my dad is a huge proponent of ESL education within the main classroom. He knows first hand what a nightmare it is to be sent away to some dark corner of the school. Most of Dad's Caucasian classmates, however, (many of them his friends) are totally against having those kids in the classroom. If they'd been segregated as if they bore some hideous disease, they'd likely feel differently.

Secondly, where does G. Gordon Liddy get off calling Spanish "illegal alien?" As in, Maria is a polyglot who speaks English, German, Russian, Arabic, and illegal alien. What. The. Fuck. Because, apparently, all people who speak Spanish are illegal aliens? Um, sure. OK. Liddy. And don't even get me started on his sexist comments about Sotomayor.

Behold in all its bullshit misogynistic glory: "Let’s hope that the key conferences aren’t when she’s menstruating or something, or just before she’s going to menstruate. That would really be bad. Lord knows what we would get then."

What? WHAT?! Did he really just go there? Since when does the shedding of the lining of a woman's uterus have anything to do with becoming a Supreme Court Justice?

Finally, what kind of crazy fruit does Tom Tancredo feed through his Jack LaLanne juicer every morning? I mean, really, Tom? Really? The National Council of La Raza is "...a Latino KKK without the nooses or hoods." I can't even wrap my head around that one. So apparently every group that exists to further the civil rights of a specific, historically underrepresented and/or discriminated subset of people is racist? Like, oh, the NAACP? Do you think Tancredo would dare make that comment if we were talking about an African American woman? I'd like to think not, but he's obviously a bit slow so who knows.

Look. Yes, La Raza literally means "the race," but to most Spanish speakers of Central America and Mexico it's used more as a way to describe a community of people. I guess you have to understand where the term comes from to really understand the idea behind La Raza. In the twenties, Jose Vasconcelos* wrote an essay called "La Raza Cosmica" or "The Cosmic Race." Vasconcelos wasn't a huge fan of Darwinism since he viewed it as a way to explain and justify the subjugation of various non-white peoples. He believed that if you looked at what was happening in Mexico, at the continuing melding of European, indigenous Mexican, African, and Native American bloodlines, one could reasonably expect that in the future a new race, a blended race, a Cosmic race if you will, would arise.

Through this blending of culture, ethnicity, and race, Vasconcelos believed we, as humans, could transcend the ugliness of racism and prejudice. Mexicans, in particular, identified and accepted this idea. They adopted the term La Raza as a means of describing their shared heritage with pride and dignity. That's it. There's nothing sinister about it.

Are there a handful of folks in La Raza who likely talk big about taking down The Man and other ridiculousness? Probably. Every group has their fringe supremacist nutters. *Cough* David Duke. *Cough* Republican. *Cough* I try not to judge an entire group based on one or two batshit crazy folks though.

Anywho. I have to say the funniest--like fall out of my chair hilarious--thing I've seen during this entire brouhaha was a comment addressing Tancredo's likening of La Raza to the KKK.

"Just last week La Raza burned an Aztec Calendar** on my front lawn."

LMFAO.

*I can't be bothered to get up and dig through my boxes of books still in the garage for the book containing the actual essay so I'm just giving a brief synopsis of what I remember after reading it a decade ago. I could be wrong. You'll have to Google if you're really interested.

**See when you go to an old skool panaderia to pick up a box of totally scrumptious pastries and cookies, they'll sometimes give you a promotional calendar. Without fail, these calendars always have these drop dead sexy half-naked Aztecs cradling buxom Latinas, shoulders bared and dresses fluttering in the wind, against their bronzed mantitties. George Lopez does a funny bit about his grandma and the Aztec calendar and her memories of a rather tawdry affair with a--well--never mind. That's a bit too risque for even this blog, lol.

Huh?

2009-05-27T20:33:00.002-05:00

Have you ever been skimming an article and a quote jumps out at you that's so OMGWTFBBQ you have to reread it again and again just to wrap your mind around it? Happened to me the other day, and I've yet to shake the quote from my thoughts. Behold the quote in all it's OMGWTFBBQ glory.

"I know people who have spent so much on pageants they lost their trailers."

Yeah. Process that for a second. If that quote doesn't encapsulate the what-the-fuckedness of little girl beauty pageants, I don't know what else possibly could.

Dave and I have been discussing the absolute hell-no's on our list of acceptable/unacceptable future activities Zaphod might undertake. At the top of that list are those ridiculous pageants where they dress up little girls like drag queens and parade them out in front of a panel of (usually) fat old man judges. Who in their right mind thinks it's okay to spray tan their five year old daughter, stuff a pair of fake teeth into her mouth, force her into baby-sized Spanx, and shellack her face with enough makeup to make a prostitute blush? And don't even get me started on the little booty and booby shaking dance moves meant to--what?--entice those old farts sitting on the judging panel. What kind of men sign up to judge these travesties? I'll give you a hint. The word starts with a "p" and ends with "edophile."

I became a little curious as to how parents justify tarting up their preschool-aged daughters and set out to investigate. Most parents seem to think they're teaching their daughters to be self-confident and poised. Right. Explain to me again how showing an extremely impressionable young girl that she needs to preen and fawn and dress like a hooker for awards is teaching her self-confidence.

I found some truly shocking articles and research papers. I was really surprised to find most participants fall into one of two categories: low income and undereducated. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how people in lower income brackets can afford $2000 pageant dresses, fake tans, makeup jobs and such. Then I read that quote about people losing their trailers. I guess it's all about priorities. Nice to know it's more important to teach a little girl to value her looks over, you know, something like fiscal responsibility.

Ay yay yay! Moms! Quit living vicariously through your four-year-olds!

25

2009-05-25T14:11:00.001-05:00

So we hit 25 weeks today. I'm so much less nervous now that we've reached the stage of preemie viability. Since there hasn't been a single full-term birth on my side of the family in this generation of cousins, it was definitely a huge worry for me. The pregnancy has been incredibly normal and--shockingly--easy. Other than loose hips and some back problems because of that stupid disc I bulged/slipped a few years ago, I've had no complaints. I mean, I'm totally sad that I can't run anymore. I miss pounding pavement and sidewalks so badly. There's nothing like the high of finishing a 3.5 mile run when you're chubby! But my hips just can't take the beating anymore. I'm so wobbly I look like Elvis in the mornings!

Weight gain is finally creeping up on me. I think I've put on maybe 3 or so pounds. Most of it seems to be in my tatas and belly/baby weight. I've sort of been keeping an eye on my thighs. If they start getting all flabby huge then I know I'm packing on excess fat which is useless. If they stay normal, all the weight I'm gaining is good weight. My carb cravings are coming back and most days I just give into them. Unless I fail my GTT (sometime next week,) there's really no reason to restrict my carb intake while I'm pregnant. I mean, really, a handful of Oreos or a scoop of Fruity Pebbles while I write isn't going to kill me.

Tomorrow we head in for another ultrasound. They want to take a peek at Zaphod's heart again just to make sure everything's exactly as it should be. I'm not overly concerned but understand why my docs want to be cautious. With all the heart problems we've had in my family, you just never know. As of yet, there's no indication she has any issues whatsoever. Her heartbeat is incredibly strong. Actually, at my last visit, Dave and I both busted out laughing because Zaphod's heartbeat sounded like the "galloping horses" in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. And by galloping horses, I mean smacking coconut halves together.

Yeah. The staff at our OB/midwife's office think we're nuts, I'm sure.

Other than that, it's same old, same old around here. We're finally starting the nursery--and by starting, I mean I've finally chosen a paint color. My parents are buying our crib sometime in the next week or so which gives us a little time to get the room painted. Oh, and my sister and brother are getting us the travel system/stroller/carseat. Yayness! I'll be ordering my cloth diaper stash sometime this week too. For a procrastinator, I've done more than I'd expected in preparation for the baby's arrival. Shocking, actually...

Oh yeah! Zaphod likes music. I was bored last night and she was doing her yoga poses in my uterus (at least, that's what it feels like) so I thought, "Self! Let's see if Zaphod likes music." I slipped my headphones around Das Bump and scrolled through iTunes. Eventually I settled on the Superman Theme (Planet Krypton) by John Williams. She sort of stilled when the lone trumpet began. As the other brass instruments joined, she wiggled and squirmed. At the climax of the intro, she punched me right in the belly button and kicked my bladder.

I figured that was enough music time, lol.

Next time, I think I'll try Also Sprach Zarathrustra...

Ruckus

2009-05-21T12:58:00.001-05:00

So this morning while Dave was getting ready to head out to work he left the front door open while loading his bags (sleeping stuff, extra uniform, lunch box) into the truck. I was in that weird sleep space where you're sort of aware but mostly in a dream haze when all of a sudden I hear Bosley start barking. Dave started shouting, "No, Bosley! No!"

And then I heard what sounded like flapping wings.

Hmmm. Curious, no? So I rolled over in bed and listened to the circus unfolding downstairs. From what I could tell, Bosley was all worked up over some sort of winged invader while Dave was trying to coax said interloper out of the house. My first thought was a bat. Why? Because we have a shat load of bats in the woods behind our house. Like bajillions of them. I see their beady little eyes staring at me from the treetops at night. They sort of creep me out but they cut down on the West Nile carrying mosquitoes so they're cool in my book. We're actually about to put up a bat house on the back of the house to encourage them to hang around. Yeah. We're weird like that.

Anywho. When Dave came up to give me my early morning smooch before heading out the door he explained a bird had flown into the house. Bosley immediately decided the invader needed to be chased around the living room. The bird, apparently, refused to fly out of the open door so Dave had to scoop him up and launch him out of the house. Sadly this is par for the course around here. It's like we have a poltergeist with a wicked sense of humor.

The early morning excitement had Bosley all riled up so he spent half an hour honking his pheasant and running up and down the stairs while I tried to fall back asleep. Sweet of him, huh?

Star Trek

2009-05-14T06:19:00.001-05:00

OMG! You have to see Star Trek! It's amazing. The visual imagery is simply stunning and so believable. The CGI effects meld seamlessly with the live action shots. I really enjoyed the tight plot (necessary for someone who isn't a dedicated Trekkie) and the well-rounded characters. Oh, and the hot men in tight pants. Kirk/Spock sandwich, anyone?

But, seriously, what's with the ladies in mini-skirts and go-go boots? Really? How are you supposed to kick space ass and takes names when you have to worry about flashing your hoohoo with every roundhouse? Just a thought, Starfleet.

Oh yeah. We had to take Bosley in to have his kidney functions checked yesterday since he's on meloxicam for his funky hips. Let's just say he wasn't pleased with the muzzling or the huge needle they jabbed into his jugular vein. He's been milking it for all it's worth. No, really. We stopped by Petco for treats, and he kept eyeing the stuffed squeaky toy aisle. He had this "Hey! You let them stab me in my neck!" look so we caved and let him pick out a new pheasant with an annoying honker.

Right now, he's staring at my donut. He's doing the weepy eyes. I can almost hear his thoughts. "Jeez, my neck sure hurts where you let them STAB me!" Sigh. Looks like Mama's only having half a donut this morning...

Natural Selection

2009-05-12T07:41:00.002-05:00

So I'm something of a weenie when it comes to watching wildlife programs like Nature, National Geographic, and Planet Earth. I can't stand getting all attached to some cute little fuzzy baby that eventually gets chomped on by some big snarling brute of a predator. Well guess what? National Geographic played out on our porch yesterday, and I'm just devastated.

We have these birds who built a nest on our porch right after we finished building the house. Every year, they've come back to their nest to make new baby birdies. I love watching them fluff up the nest, guard the eggs, and feed the babies. Even Bosley enjoys watching them from the window. Yesterday morning, a little after five, there was a hellacious racket out front. By the time I got to the window, I couldn't see anything and the birds had quieted down. Bosley, however, continued growling. And that's when I spotted it--that fat ass Persian cat from across the street.

Yes, you can guess what happened next. Total effing massacre. One birdie was flattened on the sidewalk. The two other babies survived and hid in my flowers. Bosley kept barking at them in his high-pitched concern bark as if trying to tell them to get airborn before the cat returned. But, of course, they were too young. The mommy and daddy bird tried to protect them and get them to fly but it was no use.

This morning the mommy bird is nowhere to be seen. I'm convinced she's offed herself. Dave tells me birds don't get post-partum depression or grieve but I don't buy it. Even the daddy bird looked rather bereaved this morning when I went out to water my plants. So sad...

I'm all hormonal and anything baby-related turns on the water works so I wept like a little girl. I'm so angry at that filthy bastard cat. First it digs up my flower beds and craps in them. Now it killed my baby birds. I'm tempted to let Bosley loose on it the next time it scampers into my yard.

Motherlover

2009-05-11T02:06:00.004-05:00

From the incredibly talented duo that brought us Dick in a Box comes the oh-so-wrong and yet ever-so-hilarious Mother's Day tune Motherlover. Huge beverage alert, folks. I've watched it six times and have tears dripping from my chin.

Happy Mother's Day!!!

Stay Classy Houston

2009-05-08T12:46:00.003-05:00

Just when I think I can't be shocked by the incompetence of the justice system in this country, I read shit like this: Rape Victims Forced to Pay for Evidence.

Oh. My. God.

Yes, let's bill rape victims for their rape kits! Let's continue to victimize them by forcing them to relive those memories every time the phone rings or the mail arrives. I'm sure a rape victim is just going to love seeing that delinquent entry on her mortgage application, years after she's moved forward with her life.

What jackass thought this was a good idea? I mean, seriously, am I the only person wondering why the hell rape kits cost anything at all? Shouldn't a rape kit be billed automatically to the police or sheriff's department's evidence gathering department? Why are we billing women (and men) for the privilege (sarcasm) of such a humiliating and traumatizing experience?

Just reading this makes me so sad. And disgusted. WTF, Houston? WTF!

Peep Show

2009-05-06T18:34:00.001-05:00

So my short story, Indecent, was chosen for the upcoming Peep Show: Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists anthology for Cleis Press edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel. Cleis Press publishes some of the naughtiest, wildest and most brilliant anthologies, novels, and nonfiction works of erotica and sexuality out there. I've been a huge fan of their Best series (Best Women's Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Gay Romance) and Ultimate Guide to series for quite a while now. I'm totally stoked to have a piece published by them.

As the release date nears, I'll post a bit more on this anthology. Until then take a look at the Peep Show blog for snippets from the book and more.

Smug Preggos & Baby Making

2009-04-30T22:59:00.001-05:00

So my super fabulous editor sent this video link to me yesterday. Let the hilarity ensue.

This instructional vid titled Como Hacer Un Bebe comes from Dave. Jeez! If only someone had told us we've been doing it wrong all these years! At least we know what to do next time.

Hamaggedon

2009-04-28T18:20:00.001-05:00

Oh, Craig Ferguson, how I love thee! His bit on the swine flu last night, complete with pig puppet, was hilarious. I particularly enjoyed the Pig-pocalypse and zombie bacon jokes.

In all seriousness, I'm just not that concerned about swine flu. I probably should be since I'm pregnant and my husband spends 24-48 hours at a time crammed into the back of an ambulance with puking, bleeding, coughing, pooing folks. Dave's hand washing habits verge on obsessive when he's at work, and I spend most of my time indoors with the occasional trip to the grocery store or Barnes & Noble or whatever.

I'll take the usual precautions and if I get a temp or a cough or flu-like symptom, I'll head straight into see my doc for some Tamiflu or Relenza. Beyond that, I'm not changing my routines. Sure, swine flu is serious, but really it's the paranoia that'll get you.

Bea Arthur

2009-04-27T16:00:00.001-05:00

So Bea Arthur passed away over the weekend. I'm so sad. I'm seriously obsessed with the Golden Girls. I have almost every season on DVD and watch them, like, every week. I'm running my own Golden Girls marathon right now. I'm up to Season Three, Disc Three and laughing my ass off.

Since it's a rainy Monday, I'm not really motivated to do much else than curl up on the couch with the dog and watch TV. Every now and then I have to get up and grab the umbrella to escort Bosley outside. You'd think a 150 plus pound Great Dane wouldn't be afraid of a little rain, but he's a big blubbery baby about it. He'll do the pee-pee dance until his legs are shaking rather than go out into the rain so Dave or I have to get out the big umbrella and hop puddles while he looks for the perfect spot.

Yes. It looks as ridiculous as it sounds.

RIP Dorothy Zbornak.

My Fence! She Burns!

2009-04-23T22:33:00.001-05:00

So Dave and I came home from the grocery store to find a portion of our fence charred and smoldering. Yeah. Can you say holy shit? Like I need that kind of stress, right?

How did our fence catch fire you ask? Well, you see, we have neighbors who smoke and who have friends who smoke. It seems someone just dropped a cigarette butt and--whoosh!--the whole thing went up. It was windy as hell here today, and our neighbors don't exactly take the best care of their back lawn. Like a fucking tinder box...

Look, I'm fairly open about the fact that I think smoking is a filthy habit, but I'm super tolerant of smokers so long as they're responsible. Don't blow smoke in the faces of non-smokers, kids, or pregnant women. Be safe with your butts and ashes. That's all I ask. What you do with your lungs is your business.

But this is ridiculous. I've already got anxiety problems. Now, every time I leave the house, I've got to worry about whether or not our neighbors are going to burn down our damn house with the dog inside. Or catch our house on fire when I'm asleep.

We left them a note because they weren't at home. They called, apologized and promised it won't happen again. Of course, they blamed it on their cleaning lady. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn't. I'd be more inclined to believe them, if they hadn't lied about *not* knowing any smokers. Huge untruth. During March Madness, that backyard was chock-o-block full of smoking and drinking men.

So anywho. Be wary of your neighbors, folks. You just never know when you're going to come home to a blazing fence!

Halfsies

2009-04-22T21:19:00.002-05:00

So we reached 20 weeks a few days ago which means we're officially halfway through this pregnancy. I'm also 6 months now. I know. Time flies and all that. Zaphod's doing well. She moves. A lot. I've finally figured out her schedule and can sort of try to get into bed a little early so I'm fully asleep before she starts doing her calisthenics.

And, yes, we have a name picked out. We've had one picked out for a while but we're just not ready to share. This our little secret for the time being. Also I'm terrified of having our own ass hamster moment. You know, George and Angie, right?

*crickets*

Right. So on Scrubs, when Turk and Carla finally get pregnant, they choose their baby names. Carla chooses Angie and Turk chooses Fukwan. Obviously, Carla puts the kibosh on that and suggests George instead. Once they've agreed on their names, Carla forbids Turk from telling anyone. He, of course, can't keep his trap shut and spills the beans to JD. Fast forward to JD in the pediatric ward playing with a group of kids. When they ask for a name for the hamster, JD suggests Angie. Not long after, Carla and Turk pass by and overhear the kids referring to the hamster as Angie. A hamster that had been found in the ass of a dead patient earlier that morning.

So, yeah, ridicule me for being overly cautious, but I'll just die if someone names their ass hamster after my baby.

Susan Boyle

2009-04-17T15:00:00.001-05:00

*Fixed Link*

Isn't Susan Boyle just fabulous? Seriously, I cried like a little girl when watching her perform. I felt so bad for her when the crowd was so rude as she talked to the judges at the beginning of her audition. When she opened her mouth and all that brilliance flowed forth, I felt like jumping up and down and screaming, "Vindication!"

Isn't it sad how so many of us view women of a certain age or women without cover model looks as inferior or deserving of our derision? I think I relate to Susan Boyle so much because I was Susan Boyle. As a teenager I was very involved in choir and musical theater. I won all sorts of competitions and more--but I never received the lead in a musical.

Well, there was that one time I was a lead character---but I had to dress up like a man in a fat suit and alter my natural soprano to fit the part. Thank goodness my voice is versatile! I'll never forget being called back in after the audition and told I was the natural choice for the female lead but I just didn't look the part.

After that production, I never auditioned again. I accepted that a slightly chubby girl with some of the unfortunate side effects of PCOS wasn't cut out for the world of musical theater and focused all of my attention on my real passion: writing. Maybe that embarassing experience was a blessing in disguise. After all, I'm getting paid to do what I love now!

So huge-o kudos to you, Susan Boyle, for never letting the bastards get you down!!!

Dos Equis

2009-04-15T18:48:00.002-05:00

No, not the totally delicious beer. The chromosomes. As in, our baby has two--count 'em--two X chromosomes. That's right! I'm currently incubating the very first baby girl grandchild on either side of our families. Can you say future Miss Priss? Oh, yes. I'm quite sure she's going to be quite spoiled.

She's right on track for growth and measures one day ahead of my due date so no biggie. The weight estimate is eleven ounces which is right on target for 19.5 weeks. My placenta looks like it's almost in the "right" place too so I'm not as worried about problems during delivery.

During the ultrasound, she was a smidge ornery. She seems to like the far left side of my uterus where she curls up into a little ball. She'd move around just enough to allow the tech to get the pics she needed of various organs and bones, but as far as the money shot was concerned, she kept those little ankles crossed like a tea cozy knitting prude until the last two minutes of the ultrasound study. Oh, and we saw more jazz hands and a whole helluva lot of "talking." I had the distinct feeling she was telling us to eff off so she could nap.

The best part of the ultrasound? Dave. Seriously. Huge nerd pants over here. Enjoy this gem.

Dave, staring at u/s screen: I don't know. It just looks like George Washington to me.

Me: Dude, this isn't a Rorschach test!

Amazon = Morality Police?

2009-04-12T12:38:00.003-05:00

Update the First: So it's not not just books with sex in them. Anything labeled GLBT has gotten the axe. Young adult novels with gay or lesbian protagonists and no sex anywhere in the text have been pulled from the rankings and search functions. Classics written by DH Lawrence are gone, baby, gone. Oh, and even Well of Loneliness, a Victorian era lesbian novel is gone. That novel's offensive and adult sex scene? Oh, yeah, it consists of this one line: And that night they were not divided. Oh my god! Such filth! Get the eye bleach!

Hey, but you can search for Playboy and get an eyeful of the raunchiest big-boobed ho-bags hosed down with baby oil but Heather Has Two Mommies, a children's book for crying out loud, is verboten. Vibrators and anal dildos? Oh, yeah, totally available. Foucault's History of Sex? Nein! Alan Moore's Lost Girls (aka kiddie-porn esque graphic novel)? A-OKAY!

Really, Amazon? Really?

Petition

Amazon Rank

***

So some fucknut at Amazon has made the decision to pull all sales ranking of any book with dirty sex or gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgendered themes. These "adult" books will no longer appear on bestseller lists even if they're number one in fiction or nonfiction. They've even made it impossible to find the latest releases of some of the hottest erotic romance authors like Maya Banks, Jaci Burton, and Larissa Ione/Stephanie Tyler writing as Sydney Croft. What. The. Fuck.

This mindfuckery is off the chain. Who appointed Amazon the morality police of what books should be easily searchable and purchased? This kind of censorship seriously chaps my ass. Why is that the people who object so loudly to books with sex or the gays (oh noes!) have to ruin it for the rest of us? Jeez, get a life!

If you'd like to see what authors are affected by this check out Dear Author's post which includes links and comments from many people in the business.

Final Countdown

2009-04-11T14:41:00.002-05:00

So we're in the final countdown to discovering whether Zaphod's naughty bits are dangly or not. We've been getting a lot of phone calls and texts over the last day or two asking curious questions about Zaphod. Are you carrying high or low? Hey, what's the baby's heart rate? Er, any names picked out yet?

I'm sort of wondering if my brothers or sister aren't running a hot dog or cheeseburger pool. It wouldn't surprise me. There's nothing my siblings like more than a little gambling. Football squares, craps, poker--baby gender and due date pools?

We have the anatomy scan on Tuesday afternoon. I have no idea what to expect on that grainy screen. The morning I had my positive pregnancy test, I thought, "Yep. This is our little girl." But then we had the first ultrasound and I had the distinct feeling it was a boy. Most days I lean toward girl but some days I feel like it's a boy. Some days I wonder if maybe my son is going to have an inclination toward My Little Pony or my daughter an affinity for power tools and softball. That would explain Mommy's mixed feelings....

At this point, I don't really give a poo about gender. Would it be fun to have the first little girl born on either side of our families? Oh, hell yes! But, seriously, I'm just so happy to be having a baby at all, I'll be overjoyed with ten fingers and ten toes. Then again who knows if Zaphod will cooperate with the ultrasound tech. (S)he likes to get all scrunched up in the left side of my uterus. I'm hoping a little prodding and pressure will coax a flash or two but I'm not going to hold my breath. Zaphod has already shown (s)he's not a fan of ultrasound or doppler waves. It took Dr. A a minute or so to find Zaphod yesterday during my prenatal visit. Of course (s)he was way down on the left side of my belly--and kicking and punching like a mofo at the doppler waves. Uncomfortable much? Oh, yeah...

And am I the only preggo chick who is terrifed of peeing during the ultrasound? Seriously, asking a pregnant woman to drink, like, 8 glasses of water, hold it for two plus hours and then not do the peepee squirmy dance on top of the exam table while the tech smashes around on her belly is just obnoxious. I've already told Dave I'm packing an extra set of jeans and skivvies and a towel. I'm also practicing my "Nothing to see her, folks!" scuttle since you have to cross a waiting room between radiology and the restrooms.

Anywho. Must get back to work. The smut, she beckons!

The Talk

2009-04-09T16:18:00.002-05:00

*Fair warning. This is probably going to ruffle some feathers.*

So it turns out Dave and I have pretty good instincts when it comes to kids and sex. I'm watching Oprah and having all of my instincts confirmed. What is with these uptight parents who can't tell their kids about masturbation? Seriously, I look at these parents and think, "Holy shit! You're the reason so many girls in my generation are ashamed of their bodies and can't have orgasms!" What a crock! Quit pushing your hangups onto your kids!

Dave and I have agreed that nothing will ever be off limits with Zaphod. I'm incredibly comfortable talking about sex and the human body, and I want my kid(s) to be empowered and proud of his/her body too. I don't ever want Zaphod to be ashamed of his penis or her vagina or think it's something dirty. Plus if you make something secret or forbidden, kids are going to get curious. Curiosity without proper information could be a death sentence! HIV is not a joke. I want Zaphod to know about condoms, dental dams, diaphragms, the IUD, and the pros and cons of hormonal birth control so (s)he can make the smartest sexual decisions. Sure, I'm going to talk to my kids about abstinence, but I live in reality and in reality teenagers have sex. A lot.

More importantly, I want my kid(s) to grow up to have amazing, fulfilling and responsible sex lives. That means telling my kids about masturbation (oh noes!) so they can figure out how their naughty bits work before they jump into bed with someone they love. Also, teaching my daughter/son to own their sexuality and embrace the pleasure of sex will help incorporate the idea of emotion and respect being such an important part of the sexual experience. I'd rather my kid take matters into his/her own hands than rely on a partner for his/her satisfaction.

I never want my daughter to feel like she's broken or a failure just because she can't hit the Big O with a little thrusting. (I'm looking at you old skool romance novels with your misleading man-titty covers and sex scenes!) I don't want my son to feel like he's failing either because his "mad skills" aren't getting the job done. If Zaphod is gay or a lesbian or transgendered then Dave and I will make sure we're plugged into the proper channels to get our kid the information (s)he needs to have a healthy, fulfilling relationship.

Obviously, I think information needs to be tailored to the age of the kid, but I think waiting too long is dangerous. If parents think their twelve-year-old girls aren't sitting around talking about giving head, they're so out of touch. Dudes, they're talking about things far beyond oral sex. You should look at the self-reporting statistics of teen girls engaging in anal sex. They're shocking! But, hey, you can't get pregnant if it's in the backdoor, right? Uh, not quite. And that's my problem with abstinence only education. It breeds shame and really dangerous behaviors. How can you make safe choices about your health if you've only been told Don't Do It?

But that's another topic for another time.

When my sister was in 7th grade, there were pregnant girls in her class. Am I naive enough to think my sister didn't sit around and talk about sex with her friends? Hell no! I have it on very good authority they were discussing the pros and cons of the pullout method. Can you imagine what would have happened if Tricia hadn't had me or Mom to ask about the mechanics of sex? She'd be getting all of her sexual information from her peers. Yeah, that's safe. I was so glad Mom and Dad put Tricia into a comprehensive sex-ed course that year. She learned about abstinence, safer sex, and even dating violence and rape. That's a great thing!

Look, my mom was pretty open with me. A friend told me about sex when I was maybe seven. At eight, I started menstruating (yay for premature menopause!) but wasn't that shocked because Mom had explained my period when she told me about sex a year earlier. She didn't give me all the down and dirty details but she gave me enough information to prepare me to make the right choices.

Most importantly, she kept the channels of communication open. I'm sure she hated some of the frank questions I asked but she always managed to give me a satisfying answer. I am so effing grateful for that because I never felt the need to cave to peer pressure. I waited until I found the right guy (turned out to be the only guy) and--omg--it was amazing. And safe. Maybe I hit the jackpot with Dave-O or maybe my mother's version of The Talk which stressed love and respect was key. I don't know. Maybe it's a bit of both. Either way, I'm determined to give our kids the same chance.

Crafty

2009-04-08T17:43:00.003-05:00

So I'm not sure what's going on with my new and improved Mommy Brain (now with more organizational skills!) but I'm jonesing to craft. Today, I spent most of the afternoon planning out my Cinco De Mayo projects and am already looking ahead to Halloween and Dia de Los Muertos. Since Zaphod is due on Labor Day (ironic, yes?) I won't have much time to decorate in late September/early October. My goal is to have all my nifty new coasters, lanterns, curtains, and table cloths ready to go by late July. I've even started a little decorating plan for Dave to follow because I doubt I'll be able to climb up and down on a step ladder with a baby attached to my booby.

Sigh. Hang on. Must run upstairs and get Bosley off the bed in the guest room!

Back. Where was I? Oh yes. Crafting. I'm also looking into making Dave a luchador mask. If it goes well, I might make a couple for my brothers. Or Zaphod. OMG! Can you imagine how cute that would be? Me, Dave, and Zaphod in stretchy pants and luchador masks for Halloween 2010!

Must find tiny luchador mask...

Mommy Pissing Contest

2009-04-06T17:02:00.003-05:00

Seriously, what's with Mommies Groups and the pissing contests? I've had to leave my September Mommies Group because the women there are such hags. I'd always heard mommies could be vicious but this is just insane. What is it about motherhood that some women feel gives them the right to criticize and preen? How nuts are these women? Let's see...

For starters, I admitted to eating summer sausage straight from the fridge when I was about, oh, eleven weeks pregnant. I thought these women were going to blow their pupils. Apparently, I'm a horrendously bad mommy-to-be because I've exposed Zaphod to listeria and nitrates. Oh, noes! Seriously, I'm not going to avoid hot dogs, sausage, deli meat and pepperoni just because there's the teeniest, tiniest chance I might eat something festering with listeria. I probably shouldn't tell them about the tuna sandwiches, Diet Dr. Peppers and occasional Pepsis I have. My OB and midwife gave me the guidelines of the absolute no-nos but their practice is really big on all things in moderation.

Secondly, I'm losing weight. I'm not doing it on purpose! Yes, I'm working out regularly but not nearly as hard as I was before I became pregnant. I watch what I eat and strive for balance. I'm not, you know, starving myself or anything. These women, however, think I'm obsessed with my weight or something. Am I concerned about my weight gain during the pregnancy? Uh, yeah. I know the statistics of overweight women and complications from gestational diabetes and high blood pressure and c-sections. But there's a huge difference in being obsessed and being smart about the foods I put in my mouth.

Third, cloth diapering. Yeah, we're going to cloth diaper. What's it to you? Apparently, it's everyone's business that Dave and I have chosen the cloth diapering route. If I hear one more person tell me we won't stick with it because it's so hard and they're so dirty and it's so much work, I swear to god I'm going to pull out the Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique. How can someone who has never used a cloth diaper know anything about cloth diapering? I mean, seriously, folks. We're not stupid. We've been researching cloth diapering since we started this trying to make a baby business. I know dozens of women who use cloth diapering and have taken the time to give me all their tips and tricks. I'm not going into this all naive and granola or something.

Same goes for breastfeeding. Yeah, I'm going to try my damndest to breastfeed. I'm already signed up for La Leche League classes and have a lactaction consultant/midwife at my OB's practice and a list of LLL members who will make home calls for women trying to establish breastfeeding 24/7. Again, I'm not naive. I know fully well the first 3-4 weeks of breastfeeding are terrible, but I'm putting together a support system to enable me to focus on getting Zaphod hooked on the booby. Now, obviously, if I can't make enough milk (PCOS is notorious for causing low or no milk supply) then I'll happily move to formula and that's that. But I'm going to give breastfeeding my all before I throw in the towel.

Finally, I'm really sick and tired of being criticized for my desire for the most natural birth I can get. You know, I'm not ignorant of what's involved in the birthing process. I'm fully aware it's going to hurt like a motherfucker, but you know what, I'm preparing for that reality now. Look, I've got nothing against women who choose to utilize pain relief in labor. Good for you! We all have to make the choices that are right for our unique situation. But quit giving me that patronizing smile or laughing at me just because I want something different.

I'm in the childbirth-isn't-an-illness camp and will refuse most intervention during labor. The research is painfully clear that every intervention (epidural, breaking of waters, pitocin augmentation, internal fetal monitoring) increases the risk of c-section. Dave is completely supportive of my no-intervention choice as is Dr. A. She's in the no c-section unless it's an emergency camp. The only non-emergency c-sections she does are those for women who choose not to try a VBAC and want a second or third c-section. All of the other docs in the practice are very laid back and encourage vaginal births because they have the best outcomes for mommy and baby.

Even though I want a natural birth, I'm already making backup c-section plans. Why? Because I know shit can go wrong. There's no guarantee I won't develop pre-eclampsia or gestational diabetes or worse. Also my placenta may not move. If it doesn't, I'll likely have to have a c-section to avoid placental abruption. Yeah, I'd really like to not bleed to death if my placenta rips free from my uterus during a hard contraction. But I'm funny like that...

So yes we've talked about the realities of a c-section and made some tentative plans. I think it's totally healthy to envision my birth going both ways. I'm not inflexible when it comes to my birthing plan. I understand that sometimes things happen and plans change and that's okay.

Meh, I just wish all mommies could get along. I sometimes feel like so many of these women lash out at those of us not towing the traditional line because they have insecurities of their own. As for me, I've got bigger things to worry about than whether or not the mommy sitting next to me has her kid in Huggies or FuzziBunz.

Hilarity

2009-04-06T00:33:00.002-05:00

I'm still laughing about this and it happened four hours ago. Dave had been upstairs with Bosley doing something or other in the Man Cave. I heard them barreling downstairs and looked up as they came into the living room. The first words out of Dave's mouth were, "Did you pull out my sausage?"

Oh. My. God. I almost died. I laughed so hard Zaphod went nuts and started his/her Karate Kid routine. Dave was totally oblivious as I guffawed and fought to breathe. When I repeated it to him, his ears went red. In all fairness, he was asking about some sausage he'd put in the oven--and forgotten about while messing around in the Man Cave.

And, yes, I did in fact pull out his sausage.

One Year

2009-04-01T23:41:00.002-05:00

So today (April 1) is the one year anniversary of my get fit and healthy challenge. To date, I've lost 46-49 pounds. There's a bit of a question there because my weights the last few mornings have been all over the place. (Zaphod related, I'm sure.) Without the pregnancy, I'm fairly confident I would have hit my first 63 pound goal, but whatever. I got a baby instead!

My weight control has been surprisingly excellent despite the pregnancy. I'm eating better than ever, getting in workouts (though not as many as I'd like,) and have lost another three-five pounds. I'm almost at the halfway mark of this gestation game, and I'm thrilled (and secretly shocked) I've been able to keep it together this long. My OB and midwife have set 26-28 weeks as target for my first weight gain. I think I'll make it!

A low (but healthy) weight gain in pregnancy means my post-natal bounce back will be fabulous. I'm determined to get the rest of this weight (fifty-five pounds or so) off by the time Zaphod's 18 months old. Hell, I even plan to run a 10K charity race to celebrate. Am I nuts? Oh, hell yes. But I refuse to let Zaphod (or any of our other kids) suffer from bad eating and exercise habits. Good habits start at home, and I'm going to be that role model for my kiddos. With the craptastic genes they'll likely inherit, they're going to need all the preventative help they can get!

YFZ

2009-03-30T16:01:00.002-05:00

Holy crap! Oprah in my hometown of Eldorado! At the YFZ ranch. Wow, I'm so proud. (Insert heavy sarcasm.) Seriously, how embarrassing to have the town I've loved my entire life seen as a backdrop to this clusterfuck of nutters.

Baby Guilt

2009-03-28T17:42:00.002-05:00

I know this is going to sound really odd to those who have never dealt with infertility but I'm fairly certain those of us who have will get it. I feel guilty about my surprise pregnancy and the ease with which it's progressed. I miraculously ovulated without meds and managed to make it through my entire first trimester without progesterone supplementation. Yes, I had some spotting in early pregnancy but because I wasn't aware I was pregnant, I didn't worry about it. I thought it was a super short period and left it at that. That I've made it this far without any complications is virtually unheard of--and I'm so thankful. And yet...

After the initial excitement and elation of the positive pregnancy test, I was consumed with guilt. "How the hell am I going to tell so-and-so about this?" Yes, I realize that women suffering through infertility aren't made of glass. Honestly, we're probably more emotionally strong than most women. We learn to steel those expressions and suck it up and deal with all the babies and pregnancies of our friends and family members. We grin and accept all the patronizing and often insulting "advice" from friends and family. We learn to deal with the natural feelings of worthlessness and jealousy and depression. We push through life despite the emptiness we feel every time we see a stroller or a baby bump or our husbands playing with this niece or that nephew all the while knowing we're the reason he can't have a child of his own.

And yet when we finally get that one thing we've wanted more than anything in the world, we're instantly consumed with immense guilt. Every time I feel Zaphod move or see his/her little face on the ultrasound screen, I rejoice but that happiness is always tempered with sadness. I feel so badly for all those women in my life who have lost their babies to miscarriages or who can't even get a single positive ovulation cycle. When these women are snippy with me or make snide remarks, I let them go. I remember what it felt like to bite my tongue and feign happiness for others even though I was dying inside. They're in pain, and if sniping makes them feel better for just the tiniest of moments, then so be it. I'll be your punching bag.

Of course there are women like my cousin, Suzie, who is so genuinely loving and caring and supportive despite the hell she's been through time and again. The woman has the brightest and warmest maternal and nurturing instinct I've ever seen. Even as she's struggled with infertility and lost babies, she's always been there for everyone else--even going so far as to provide fulltime care and support and nurturing to her four nieces and nephews. Hell, she even came over to visit during my trip to E-town and talked about my nursery plans and my health and the baby--all while she's still waiting for a birth mother match for their adoption. Seriously, she's just amazing. We'd all do well to take a page out of her playbook and learn something of graciousness and goodness.

To Grandmother's House We Go

2009-03-27T16:05:00.000-05:00

So Dave, Bosley, and I made the six hour trek to Eldorado to visit family. It was one of those vacations that's sort of more stressful than relaxing because you have such a short amount of time to pack in everything.

We watched Garret's little league game (too funny, folks) and had dinner with Dave's grandfather, brothers and their spouses. Penny wasn't in town but we'll see her and Dave's Aunt Carolyn in a few weeks when they come down for a china painting convention. Bob is persnickety as ever and just as curmudgeonly, lol. Here's a snippet from the what-to-do-for-dinner conversation.

Bob: Well, you women are welcome to head into the kitchen and pull something out of the freezer.

Me, Amy, and Stephanie exchanged amused WTF glances while Dave, Todd, and Lee looked like they were going to choke on their laughter.

Bob: Or we could go out.

Me, Amy, and Stephanie: Go out!

Mom, Tricia, and I drove to San Angelo for dinner and baby shopping. We chose the pattern for the nursery and picked out tons of fabric for the crib, window, accessories, and swaddling blankets. My brothers barbecued and avoided Bosley at all costs. No, seriously. Bosley isn't very fond of the boys so they actually pitched a tent and air matress in Dad's shop and slept out there!

Dad was a smidge grumpy because he had to lay off more people. He's at the end of his rope, and it really worries me. On top of all his diabetes complications, the man just had serious cardiac problems and stents put in place. The day after Dad returned to work after taking off a few weeks to recover from his surgeries, he had to deal with a massive brouhaha over an employee threatening to sue. Every day, it's something else, you know? I really, really worry about him blowing a pupil.

Lately, it seems like everyone I know is dealing with some serious illness or other. Dave's grandfather is undergoing chemo for Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. Mom just had skin cancer removed from her face and is waiting to hear back from the pathologist as to whether or not she'll need to undergo radiation or worse. As concerned as I am for them, I'm most concerned for my lil bro Marcos.

Marcos has been having problems with high blood pressure, elevated liver enzymes, and a spiking white cell count. The morning Dave and I left for home, he went to the doctor for a follow-up to intense testing. Right before we took off, he called Mom to let her know the doctor's want to take a bone marrow sample because they're concerned he may have cancer. CANCER! He's just a kid. I'm just sick with worry. God forbid it's the worst but even if it is Marcos has three siblings and a niece/nephew on the way who might potentially match should he need some sort of bone marrow or cord blood product. And I'm already in the registry so that helps a little.

Oy veh! When it rains it pours and all that...

Anywho. I hate to end my posts on a downer so I'll leave you with this gem from my parents.

Mom: Maria, if you or Dave need to use the bathroom during the night just use the one attached to our bedroom. And don't worry. We sleep in our jammies.

Dad: Not me. I just sleep in my cowboy boots.

15

2009-03-17T17:07:00.000-05:00

So I'm 15 weeks and change pregnant now. I've been able to feel Zaphod banging around in there for the last two weeks or so. First, it felt like bubbles popping in my uterus. Now it feels like tiny little pings. (S)he seems to get really active after my workouts or hot monkey sex. Yeah. The last one's a bit odd. Makes me feel sort of pervy--even more than usual!

Still haven't gained a single pound. I'm still 6-8 pounds down from my pre-pregnancy weight. My body shape, however, has changed a lot. My cargo pants and a few pairs of jeans still sorta fit but I'm going to have to resort to my Bella Band pretty soon. Most days I'm in a Nacho Libre mood--stretchy pants but not the Luchador mask. Although...

Oh, and my tatas are off the effing chain. All of my t-shirts look like they've shrunk. At 13 weeks, I had to move from a D to a DD. Two weeks later and I'm already eyeing the E's. At this rate, I'll be in those big mamma-jamma bras they sell at Lane Bryant by the end of the pregnancy. You know the ones. You can stick your whole head inside the cup and still have room for snacks. I don't even want to think about what's going to happen when my milk comes in! I'll need one of those back support belts weight lifters use.

Dave, of course, is like a kid with new toys. The other morning we were hopping into the shower. Dave had been away for a few days so he hadn't been around to behold the glory that is my new boobies. His eyes lit up like Christmas as he exclaimed, "WHOA!"

Much hand smacking ensued.

Other than that life is same old, same old. I'm writing my butt off because I've got deadlines out the wazoo. I'm not planning on doing any work from late-August until late October. I might write for fun but definitely not for profit. I seriously doubt late night feedings and general exhaustion will be conducive to entertaining the muse.

Bust

2009-03-16T16:56:00.000-05:00

Booms and busts--I've been thinking about them quite a bit. Anyone who grew up with a parent in the oil field knows the realities of booms and busts all too well. I think it's part of what shaped my attitudes toward money and saving and my desperate need for security.

Daddy's worked in the oil field for, oh, thirty years or so. In west Texas, there really isn't any other option for earning a decent wage. He went to college and then came back and went to work for Western (now BJ) as a mechanic. With a lot of hard work and tenacity, he climbed the ranks from mechanic to lead mechanic to the head of the entire mechanic and fleet department. Each of those promotions brought newer and greater responsibilities, but Daddy's always risen to the occasion.

For the last decade or so, his shop has been the highest ranked in the entire company for cleanliness, safety, and productivity. The entire global company, folks. He's a hard ass but he keeps people safe and working. That's all that matters, really.

A few weeks ago, Daddy was informed he'd have to let half of his mechanic team go. That's 8 mechanics plus office staff. He was devastated. I can't even describe how heartbreaking it was for me to listen to Mom recount the day of the layoffs. Instead of sending the guys over to the main office by themselves, Daddy walked with them and told them the truth even though the district bigwigs wanted him to do otherwise. (Basically, they wanted Dad to just throw them under the bus.) One of the guys became violently ill. Another begged for reconsideration because he had kids and a house and a wife. It was gut wrenching.

You have to understand that in that area of Texas almost all families have one sole source of support: the husband. Wives stay at home and care for children and homes. To lose their entire source of income is devastating to them. And it's more than that. It's health insurance too. Who the hell can afford $1500 a month or more in COBRA?

At any rate, Daddy stayed with them and helped them adjust to their new realities. I'm sure he gave them lots of fatherly advice since he's a man who's survived two huge oilfield busts--once with a new baby one the way. God, I remember that year like it was yesterday. It was 1988-89, I was five-ish and Mom was expecting Marcos. Dad went to work one day, and the entire place had been boarded up. He ended up finding work in San Angleo at Gandy's as a mechanic.

Even though money was super tight, I remember that year as the one I ate so much ice cream I never wanted to see it again. See, Gandy's is a dairy company. Anytime they'd have a refrigerated truck break down, Daddy (and the other mechanics) would load up ice chests with cottage cheese and milk and ice cream. Seriously, almost all of my memories from that year are of me and Joey chowing down on dairy goodness.

Another thing I remember from that year is Daddy driving it into my head that you don't buy things you can't afford during the booms. This was a message he'd repeat over and over and over. When Joey went to work on the rigs, Dad shook his head at all the young kids running out and buying new trucks and houses and other shit they couldn't afford on loans and credit cards. Joey smartly listened and didn't get himself in hock with any of the banks. He also left the oil field which was an even smarter move. Now most of Joey's friends are laid off and facing forceclosures and repossessions and worse.

Of course, Joey's found the upside to the recession. The other night he joked about the fact that he's having no problem finding girls now. He's got a job, after all. I pointed out that maybe those aren't the sorts of lady friends he wants. He seemed scandalized at the idea he'd want something different. Boys. What can you do?

Anyways. I don't know if there's a point to this post. I just felt like blogging about booms and busts and other economic woes. Texas seems to have been largely spared from the economic crisis so far but I don't think we'll be lucky much longer. Oil and gas companies are cutting back on expenses across the board which means less demand for all those welders and those bulk chemical orders and parts and so on and so forth. Think about all the people involved in the energy sector here who have been put on 40 hour work weeks. Yeah. You can't go out and buy anything if you're barely scraping by. Businesses depend on us to spend money so they can employ people. It's just a vicious cycle I don't see ending any time soon.

Sad. Just really sad.

DA BWAHA

2009-03-15T16:40:00.001-05:00

For those of us who know sweet fuck all about basketball but love us some romance novels (and prizes!) behold the awesomeness of DA BWAHA. The Smart Bitches and Dear Author are hosting their second annual Dear Author Bitchery Writing Award for Hellagood Authors. It's the Big Dance for a field a 64 reader nominated novels in a variety of genres.

Just like that other March Madness and its basketball-aholics, DA BWAHA allows romance writers and readers to fill out and submit brackets based on their personal hunches and (dare I say) research and statistics. You can bet your sweet buns I'm all over Amazon and B&N and review sites for comparisons within the various genres. There's a Sony Reader 505 at stake here, folks! Ruthless. I shall be ruthless!

Oh, and the Smart Bitches and Dear Author Ja(y)nes have put together some amazing discounts with Harlequin for all of their nominated books. Fictionwise has put all the e-book versions of DA BWAHA nominees on easy to navigate page.

Will the book of the year belong to the perennial favoriteNora Roberts? (La Nora! I prostrate myself before your greatness!) Or will it be a Cinderella story for a YA author like Suzanne Collins? The suspense it slays!

So get your brackets inand browse the nominees for some hellagood reads!