Saturday, October 31, 2009

Part Three: The Week From Hell - Monday

As of late Sunday night (10/4), and despite the nurses saying that The Boy had swallowed meconium and was on a three day course of antibiotics for it, we were slated for a Tuesday release. So we knew we had to be in a controlled panic to get a slew of necessities that would tide us over until things settled down. Well, I would have to be. DH had to go to work Monday.

In the late afternoon on Sunday, I had texted my boss and told him of The Boy’s arrival. “Awesome!!!” was his response. That was everyone’s response to the news. :)

Monday, October 5, 2009

This was going to be my round of errands on Monday: coffee at S__b__, Wally World, and a scouting mission to Ikea to see what they had in cribs and dressers, because BRU and everywhere else are complete rips for cribs. After that I was going to head to the hospital and spend time with my new small friend.

However, the phone rang while I was having coffee and reading the paper. It’s Boss, who is going out of town for the week, in panic mode. “I need you here!” and he put it in such a way that if I didn’t get there, the whole office would collapse. No argument that The Boy needed me countered his attitude. Resentful, and knowing full well that if I’d given birth he’d never have bothered me (that double standard where adoption was concerned vs. birthing a child was rearing its head already), I went to the office, got there at a little after nine.

You know what I did that was so earth shattering other than tying in with the lady covering for me? Not a damn thing. He sat and talked politics on the phone the entire morning. I was SO ENRAGED that by the time I left at noon there really was steam coming out of my ears.

As I stormed out of the parking lot, I could hear the voice of my mother echoing in my head – there were times where she’d mutter constantly “I’m ___ hours behind!” I suddenly knew, at the age of 37, and with her gone 3½ years, what in the hell my mother was furiously mumbling about all those years. I stormed to Walmart, ran through Ikea and had only half an idea of what I wanted, then I went home. I did various things here and there, and sent out pics via email to friends and family. I was just finishing up posting in FB when my cell phone rang. It was Facilitator.

The phone call started rather innocuously. I had stated in an earlier post that she was out of town when the baby was born, so she asked for the stats and info and wanted to know if all had gone smoothly Sunday morning. Then she started getting weird. In a weird, roundabout way, she mentioned that the hospital so.cial wor.ker (“HSW”) had talked to the charge nurse, and that The Boy might have been exposed to more than what the BM admitted to. When I asked what did that mean, and what gave the nurse reason to say that, she got squirrelly, and didn’t answer directly. Instead, she asked the worst question in this situation: “Are you still committed?”


To be fair, the question in itself is innocuous, but combined with her weird, roundabout answers and evasive responses when I asked for specific information made me get all weirded out. It also placed the worst scenario in my mind, that somehow The Boy would be yanked from us and placed in other hands, or that the hospital would somehow deny us access to the boy. By the time I hung up with her, I was freaked out – what was wrong with The Boy that caused such a statement to be made and such bizarre evasiveness? Was he lethargic? Was he abnormal in some way that they didn't catch before? Was he having seizures? What?! I ran downstairs, grabbed my keys, and hotfooted it to the hospital, tears streaming down my face as I drove. What had happened while I was at the hospital, and why didn’t they call me?

I get there at about two or so (so much for being there at 930-10a), and The Boy is as peaceful as can be. I asked the nurse, “K,” what was going on, and she said he’d had a rough night – not feeding well, not sleeping well, so they’re going to keep a sharper eye on him. They gave us a “nesting room” and I sat there with the boy, in tears, wondering what in the hell was going on, and why Facilitator had questioned our commitment, and why didn’t she answer questions directly?

I was tired, pissed off at Boss for wasting my time, pissed off at Facilitator for her shit, and beginning to be strung out from the seed of doubt planted by Facilitator. I fed and rocked the boy, talking out loud all the while.

DH walked in at about 5:30, and saw my face. He asked what happened, and I told him about how The Boy might have been exposed to more, and that there might be complications but Facilitator didn’t say why, and was evasive and frustrating. He listened to what had unfolded, and he stepped out of the nursery and out to the lobby to get some reception.

He came back ten minutes later, highly pissed off. He asked for The Boy, held him close, and rocked, rocked, rocked, silent as can be. In a few minutes, he told me that he had pressed for information that he sensed Facilitator had, but Facilitator had been equally as evasive as she had been with me, had questioned his commitment, and added a new twist, essentially saying, “well, if you’re not committed, we’ll have to find someone else and he’ll probably wind up in foster care.” DH, so kind, quiet, and mellow, was extremely pissed off by this form of emotional blackmail.

Never, ever, not at any time had we ever wavered in our love and commitment to The Boy. As soon as we saw him, we were in love, and he was our son. We never have expressed to anyone anything other than full commitment to him. So,


He told her to quit asking that question, it wasn't a matter of commitment, and answer his (our) questions, to please tell us what she had heard from the HSW that caused her to question our commitment. We were also asking so that if The Boy was indeed exposed to something hardcore, we could care for him correctly, and prepare for the result of said possible exposures. She evaded again, and questioned his commitment once more. DH did something he has very rarely done: he hung up on her. That’s why he was so extremely pissed off when he came back into the room.

As we dissected both conversations, his and mine with Facilitator, he just continued to rock The Boy. We agreed that we never got the vibe that BM lied at any time, and that it was a possibility that Facilitator was projecting things upon BM that just weren't true. Despite our suspicions, I was trembling with fear and fury. DH was madder than I’ve ever seen him in our dozen years together.

As we both simmered in rage and fear and dread, I had an inspired idea: I went back into the nursery and asked K if she could join us for a few moments. She kindly obliged after finishing what she was doing. Together, DH and I told her about our separate conversations with Facilitator, and the issues we were having with her, and the complete lack of information. “She stated that the HSW spoke to the charge nurse this morning, but refused to say more.”

K’s eyes opened wide. “Why, I was the charge nurse this morning! This is what I told HSW…” (oh, what luck!!!) She proceeded to explain exactly what had happened overnight and then exactly what she had said to HSW. I knew that K could see our agitation; I was physically trembling and DH’s eyes were snapping. “Keep in mind that the meconium test isn't back yet... so we don't know anything yet.... I’ll tell you what, as soon as we’re done here, I’ll put in a message with HSW so you can speak with her tomorrow.”
Edited to Add: So now I was like, why didn't Facilitator just say she didn't know? She had refused to say "I don't know, I don't have that information. I can only tell you what HSW told me." What's so hard about that? Why did she have to be evasive and turn things around on us? I just don't understand.

We continued to speak for about another ten minutes, and K did her best to put us at ease… when you consider she has no say in what happens. We did feel better. By the time I returned The Boy to the nursery, I felt the best I'd felt since eight thirty that morning.

Edited to Add: DH left before I did. When I got home, he told he that he called Facilitator back and had a wee chat with her, and said to not ever question his, my, our commitment again - it is not at issue. So tired, frustrated, strung out, we went to bed, hoping that things would go smoother from here on out, still on track for The Boy to be brought home Tuesday.
Next Up: Part Four: The Week From Hell - Tuesday.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

The Story, Part Two

So, to continue the story...

I went to bed at a decent hour and fell right asleep. This is rare for me, as my brain is usually going 348972926 mph and it takes me at least an hour to finally doze off. I was thinking mostly about my evening with T, her thoughts, her advice, then ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ... DH stayed up late, but I don’t remember him coming in; that meant I was dead asleep by the time he came to bed.

Sunday, October 4, 2009 – 2:45am (or so)
We were both dead asleep when the house phone rang. Since we don’t generally give that number out, when a call is received at some sort of ungodly hour, we know it’s something serious. I couldn’t find a damn handset that had a charge, and when my cell phone rang, I knew that it had to be Facilitator’s backup, since Facilitator was out of town.


“Allie? This is L___, with Agency? Just want to pass along that the baby is already here, it’s a boy, and all seems to be well. Congratulations! Go ahead and head on down to [hospital].”

“Oh, wow. Oh. wow. Awesome!” Half-asleep, I was surprised.

“Just let me know if you have any questions, I’ll be happy to help you.”

“Uh, yeah, I have a question – what do we do?”

And this has been a sticking point through the process: what do we do from whatever point they’re launching us from? Here, you’re certified, see ya! The baby’s born, have at it! Well, dang it, where do we go, what do we do?

I got the answers, and L___ politely ended the conversation and presumably went back to bed. I stood there, bleary eyed, then remembered I needed to get DH up, now that the baby was actually born. He had slept through the whole thing. “Honey?”


“Babe, wake up. That was L___.”

He murmured, “I figured.”

“[BM] had the baby already. We have a son! Come on, get up.”

Since there was no rush to be in the delivery room, we both showered and dressed, then went to the hospital. We got there a little after three (no traffic, natch), and parked. Well, how in the hell do we get in there? We had parked near L&D, but the area was clearly marked FOR PREGNANT PATIENTS ONLY… so we took a walk to find the correct entry.

The cool, breezeless pre-dawn morning was gorgeous, as October usually is in the Valley, with a full moon and stars punching the sky. It was peaceful, and DH and I were completely calm, in step with the lovely night. No panic, no rush of emotion… probably because we were so surprised at how fast it had all happened that there hadn’t been time to absorb it all.

After wandering three-quarters around the building, we wound up going through the ER and wended our way to the L&D desk. I explained who we were, and that (at that point) we only had the BM’s first name. The nurse was extremely nice – let me find out what’s going on, please have a seat over there, coffee will be ready in about ten minutes, etc. We sat on the little step in front of the shuttered nursery windows as she went to confirm with BM who we were, and call L___ to confirm that we were indeed the adoptive parents.

We sat there for about fifteen minutes when we got up for a moment. I just happened to look up, and there BM was, waving at us with a smile as she was being wheeled towards her room. It really touched my heart. She was looking for us! She said hi, we said hi, asked how she was, if everything was okay – sort of trite, I suppose, but the nurses weren’t stopping for us. They whisked her off to her room.

We returned to the uncomfortable little step after grabbing some coffee at the nurse’s station. From what I could gather, the nurses were still trying to get ahold of L___, who had most obviously gone back to bed. I can’t say I blame her, really. It isn't her case, she's just pinch hitting... but it would have been nice for her to leave her phone on.

In the end, it actually wasn’t too long. The Boy was born at about 2:30am, we got the call at about 2:45, we got to the hospital at about 3:15 or so (yeah it’s not far at all), then at about 3:45am, the nurse got the information she needed, and I was banded as BM’s “significant other.” We received our instructions, then pushed the button to be let in.

Meeting "The Boy"
We were buzzed in, and led to the little sub-nursery that I would later learn was the “special care” nursery; at that point I had no idea. Some of the incubators had hand-knitted blankets on them - I thought it very sweet. The nurse handling The Boy briefed us. We washed our hands obediently, then were led to his little cot.

There HE was, sprawled sleepily under the heat lamps (and not an incubator or the blue lights for jaundice, thank God), clad only in a diaper. The first thing I thought upon seeing him was “He’s SO TINY!” (about 5-1/2 lbs) and then, after studying him in his sprawl, Steven Wright popped into my head: “Day One: still tired from the move.” Completely silly and inappropriate, I know, but there it was. I giggled.

The silly moment passed, and DH and I merely stared in astonishment. The surreal was now real. We just stared in awe. We both held him for the first time that morning, then went down to the cafeteria in the basement while they did shift change. We returned afterwards, continuing to stare at him and hold him in awe.

Since he was only known to the hospital as “Baby Boy [BM’s last name],” the nurse turned to us and asked, “What is his name going to be?”

We replied in all honesty that things had happened so fast that we hadn’t ever gotten that far, although we had a pool of names we'd been generally bandying about. “We’ll have one when we get back,” I said, when DH and I departed to go home.

We got to the house and started to finish clearing what would be The Boy’s room. Then we went into the home office and kicked names around. We didn’t want a name too close in the family (i.e. grandparents, aunt/uncle) Many of you figured out the first name we agreed on in a previous post, but we also kicked around Christian, Robert, Scott, Brendan, Stephen, etc. One of these wound up as his middle name. We wound up picking what he is, and besides, The Boy looks like what his name is (you know how that goes…).

Now that we had a name, we made the round of phone calls. After all, how can one really announce the baby’s here when one doesn’t have a name? Of course, MIL turned the names we picked as credits to her, but they had nothing at all to do with her, personally; whatever. We have, however, gotten a great response on the names we picked. My sister calls The Boy by both of his names, she likes them so much.

Up Next, Part Three: The Week From Hell

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

The Story, Part One

Bummer. I lost a follower. I hope that I didn’t offend him/her. I’m sorry if I offended, even inadvertently – but I have to tell the story; I can’t hold back how we got here.

Good news like this, especially when our profile hasn’t been out that long and get a placement, will hurt someone no matter how I couch it. As anyone on this journey knows, once your profile is out there, it’s out of your control. Believe me, we’re as shocked and surprised as anyone else!

Hokay… The Boy is napping after eating, and I've only had pinches of time in which to write The Story. Hmmm… let me see. Told that, told that… hmmm. Let’s do topics.
The Call
Ayup, I posted about the facilitator calling on Monday 9/28/09 that a young lady liked our profile and would like to meet us, the impartation of information, and my subsequent meltdown.

The Unhelpful Advice
As soon as DH told his mother, she started in on the old wives’ tale of cats harming babies. She also started pounding on – not politely suggesting, but full-on, all day every day nagging – about feeding the as yet unborn (and unplaced) child breastmilk from a bank. WTF? We haven’t even got the baby in hand yet! Give me a break!

The Meeting
11:30 on 10/1/09, which I already wrote about in a previous post. Very nervous on the drive in to the meeting. Contrary to the expectations of Facilitator, PBM was calm, polite, and had a great sense of humor. Things go well, including PBM changing her mind about not having anyone in the delivery room – she said clear as day that she had no problem with me being there. She gives the green light. I am so calm on the drive back to the office that when I get there, even Boss remarks upon it. I get out of work late but still get a chance to scout out things at Buy Buy Baby (which rocks, btw) and Target. I buy nothing.

In hindsight, we should have seen the conflict with Facilitator coming. She was strangely threatened by DH; he made her nervous. No idea why. He is the most gentle, kind, mellow person on the planet.

The Panicked Scramble
As of that date, we now had a match and had to get some things. I did more scouting on Friday (10/2), bought some little necessities like onesies.

On Saturday morning (10/3), we shoved his desk into my home office, and we’re back to both being in one room as a home office, as it used to be. The guest room is still a disastrous dumping ground that I’ll have to fix sooner rather than later. What would be The Boy’s room was then cleared of crap and cleaning up began. We wouldn't finish it today.

Later on Saturday, we bought a pack and play with the crib insert and, after research on the Consumer Reports website and other reviews, bought a Graco travel system. The fact that the Bed Bath and Beyond coupons are accepted by Buy Buy Baby (love the name of the place – refreshing honesty) is a wonderful thing.

It felt very odd and unreal to be there with DH - not for other people, as it's been for for years, but for us, finally; he expressed as feeling like he was a character in a play, and this not being real. I myself felt like a poser. It was all very strange.

As of Saturday night, we had only told that small circle I referred to in another post: the parents, a small pool of people on his side and a small pool on mine. It was a need-to-know basis until things actually looked as if they were going to happen. I did, however, finally run my oldest friend down and she met me at the Target near her house after she got off of work. SHE was the one I needed to talk to, the one I know understands. While I was telling her the saga thus far, I was picking out bottles, binkies, PJs, lotion, wipes, and so on to have at least the basic things.

I said to her, dear T – dear friend who I’d trust with my life – that my gut is telling me that BM won’t make it to the 10th, and, worse, that we won’t make it through the weekend. Said gut feelings were also telling me it was a boy; this is how I'd felt on Thursday, and I told her so. She was the first one to give me sound advice, as she has two boys of her own.

We sat at a Crapplebees for another hour after shopping. What I had to admit, though, was that after the roller coaster ride since Monday, I was completely tapped. I was shot mentally, which rolled into the physical. “Get some sleep,” suggested Madam Captain Obvious.

Actually, once I got home and putzed around on the compy a little, I went to bed and, rare for me, fell right asleep.

To be continued.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Kreativ Blog Award

Both Rachel and Mary have nominated me for the Kreativ Blogger award. Wow! Thank you, ladies!

Things You May Not Know:
1. I have a mark on my face that is the same as my late mother’s, just on the opposite side. It’s neither a mole nor a birthmark per se, but just a raised spot on my right cheek. Mom’s was on her left. Obviously. Duh.

2. I blew out my knee my junior year of high school, then went two years (including my senior basketball season and my first summer in wildland fire) before getting it reconstructed. Only this week has any irritation been more than annoying; this week, I feel the arthritis. Rats.

3. I didn’t like asparagus until my sister-in-law grilled it… and I loved it! I was twenty seven. My dear mother killed it anytime she cooked it and thus turned me off of it, God rest her soul.

4. While everyone else in junior high and high school were drooling over Duran Duran, Michael Fox, the two Coreys, Anthony Michael Hall, Ralph Macchio, Rob Lowe, etc etc etc, I was hankering for Tom Selleck. I still do to this day. Tom Selleck is not only STILL HOT, he’s a class act. Nummy!!!

5. Facebook is so damned addictive. Probably my best idea yet is to decline every invite to Mafia Wars. Pillow Fight was bad enough, and I deleted it. Chatting with my out of state friends /old high school classmates is more than enough!!

6. There aren’t many things that freak me out, but the thought of anything sting-y (black widow, scorpion, etc) drives me batty. And, since we’re in the desert, I get a lot of sting-y critters.

7. My hair color is completely natural. It mystifies unfamiliar stylists at my salon, makes other people envious. I simply look at it as saving one hell of a lot of money.

Paying it forward:

1. Melissa of Be Still and Know

2. Heartmommy

3. M at Letters to a Birthmother

4. Wendy and Steve at Our Story: Our Journey to Adoption

5. Patti at Pep’s Thoughful Spot

6. Kelly at Uninterrupted Prosperity

7. Sissy at Two Plus One Equals Three

Here are the rules for this one:
1-Thank the person who nominated you for this award.
2-Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
3-Link to the person who nominated you for this award.
4-Name 7 things about yourself that people may not know.
5-Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers.
6-Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate.
7-Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know they’ve been nominated

Thank you very much!!!


About 3/4 done with The Story. Stay tuned.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

I Fell Asleep Before I Could Post This Last Night

... so forgive the reference to "today." This was written in snatches all through yesterday. I still haven't had the energy or time to write The Story.

And thank you everyone for your kind words and the cheers! They soothed my frustrated soul this past week before we brought him home.

And The Boy is a week old today... I hope that the road is much less rocky from here.

So here you go, yesterday's slated post, that was originally going to be titled "What's In a Name."


All Friday night, he was fussy; I would have thought that The Boy would be happy to be home. I thought he wouldn’t miss being poked, prodded, undrugged, drugged, undrugged again, antibioticked, woken up unceremoniously bothered on the hour, changed, bothered in a myriad of ways by a constantly changing plethora of hospital folks, and having long stretches of not being with us. But no, we were up all night Friday night to this morning. And he started eating every hour and a half/two hours suddenly instead of the three/three and half he’d been doing. It’s amazing what being off of antibiotics does for him. He is STARVING, always. That will be a discussion with the ped on Monday because I can’t seem to get enough anything in him to sustain him for more than two hours, now that he has an appetite.

Now, on Saturday morning, he is in the bouncer DH’s parents got him, for which I am grateful. I had made the desperate request because both DH and I were shot, and it was a purchase that wouldn’t break their bank (what, about $40?). Otherwise, we had nowhere to put him when we ate other than his crib, because there was no way I was going to lay him on the couch where he would squirm his way around and fall to the tile floor. The downside of this whole thing was that DH refused to fend them off for another day, so they were here at five on the day The Boy came home and stayed for over three hours. I was very frustrated because it had been a very tough week, I had been at the hospital at six that morning (and weren’t released until 12:30p or so – very long morning), and I wasn’t in the mood to entertain. I was, and am, so drained from the experience that I almost had nothing left for The Boy’s tough first night home. Anyway…. the in-laws were here for a very long three and a half hours (and they'll be here with DH's sister tomorrow... oh joy). I was very tired by the time they left, and very tired of MIL pushing an old wives’ tale and her agenda for The Boy. The worst part was that MIL didn’t actually burp The Boy, so he wasn’t very fun in the wee small hours of Saturday morning. Grr…

The smartest thing I did on Friday evening was having my dad come over earlier than the in-laws and have first dibs on holding him. My dad has an aversion to MIL because of her antics and obnoxiousness, and I can’t say that I blame him. Anyway, he got here first, and held his fourth grandchild for the first time. My dad is such a sucker for babies and The Boy had the same effect on him as his older cousins.

Hard morning for The Boy today (Saturday), hard morning for me – part of it was that, suddenly, the formula they sent us home with no longer satiates him, part diaper issues, part adjusting to a new environment. Then we realized a little too late that with his tininess NONE of the clothes I’d hurriedly purchased (Size 0-3) fit him. He literally drowns in them with his little arms and little skinny legs, making it difficult to ensure his safety and comfort. Leaving him with DH, and dog tired with no chance for a nap, I went out at noon to go to the local Carter’s store, because they’re the only ones I know for certain that have Newborn sizes that fit him (The Boy is not yet six pounds; I hope he is by Monday’s ped appt).

On the day he came home, we had yet another tiff with the facilitator, another part I will add to the story of his first few days of life. I personally hope I never have to deal with her again, other than paying the remainder of her facilitation bill.

Not ten minutes ago (it’s about 7:30 on Saturday night as I’m finishing this), my oldest friend, T, came by to see The Boy. She has two sons herself and gave me some of the most useful information I can use yet.

You probably have noticed that nowhere in this entry have I given a name for The Boy, mostly because this is, after all, the Internet. But I have… you just have to look for it. Shhhhhh... it's a secret!
Now, Sunday morning, I have The Boy in his bouncer. We switched from the premade mini-bottles of that enfamil nastiness to an organic powdered formula, and he's been quiet and snug for the last hour and a half. Hopefully this nixes that awful keening hungry wail because that nasty stuff wasn't knocking out his appetite. And he hasn't spit it up, a great sign.
DH thinks it should be illegal for any baby formula to have corn syrup in it. I agree. WTF?
OK, naptime for me!! Hang in there, I'll get that story posted yet.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Quick Update and Some Baby Candy

It’s been a crazy roller coaster. Up down swing drop wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee… *puke*

We’re so bummed… The Boy will not be coming home until Friday not only because of the meconium he swallowed, but also because I learned from the pediatrician today that BM’s amniotic fluid was, in his words (not mine!), “foul.” Apparently it was rather nasty with pus and all, so I’m glad after the fact that I didn’t witness his birth – I would have gone ballistic right then and there, and probably be carted off to the psych ward. For now, though, it answered the answerable, and I felt better.

The Boy had a rough day yesterday – balked at feeding, didn’t sleep, cried a lot, plus other issues which raised a certain level of alarm. That said, he’s been a champ at both eating and sleeping for over 24 hours now. We are very happy at his progress and hope it continues. I told him ‘hey, kid, you gotta eat to come home,’ and I guess he listened to me.

Added to the worry that he wasn’t thriving yesterday was the facilitator. Long story short (which I will cover in detail later), she made DH mad – and he rarely gets mad. When I elaborate on this point when I have time to write it out, I guarantee you will be as angry as we were yesterday, and I expect a shitstorm of comments.

Smoothing the waters from yesterday was the fact that a) I talked to the pediatrician on staff this morning, which filled in a lot of blanks, and calmed me down because so many of the question marks that COULD be answered without the test results (first poop, placenta) were finally answered; and, b) I spoke to the hospital social worker earlier in the day about the situation with the facilitator. I liked her a lot, right off the bat, and she told me as much as she could without violating her relationship with BM. She said to not worry – there was no reason she could see why The Boy wouldn’t come home with us on Friday.

Until I get a chance to post again, here’s some baby crack:


(and that's pretty sad, isn't it?)

Yes, he is very tiny, but perfect in every way.

I'll be back soon. :)

Sunday, October 4, 2009

"The Eagle Has Landed," or: The Most Amazing Day of My Life

Just a quick note saying that I never got the chance to be in the delivery room.

The baby was born today, October 4, the Feastday of St Francis of Assisi - an omen in itself.

I'll post the whole story when we actually bring him home.

Yes, him.


More later!

Friday, October 2, 2009

Surrealism, Adoption Style

Soooo... we met with the PBM yesterday. We had been warned that she was defensive and prickly and liked to cuss for shock value, but she apparently decided to show us her best side; she was responsive and sometimes even really funny. It went very well. We met, the facilitator went over what will happen at the hospital, fielded questions, and asked PBM to clarify her exposure to certain substances.

When I spoke to the facilitator on Monday, she said that there was no way I would be in the delivery room. Listen – I’m not one to insist on it. I used to be an EMT, I’ve seen my share of blood, guts and gore. And if PBM’s dealing with it in the best way she can in her circumstances, and doesn’t want me in there, then I’ll be the first to respect her wishes.

She did an abrupt about-face yesterday. She wants me in there. Facilitator asked her what f the hospital only allows two people, and she said that her friend was out and I was in. I wanted to just goggle at her in surprise.

For me, it was strange. I was pretty nervous going in, but coming back to the office I was completely calm; even Boss commented on how calm I am. Calm, but cautious. I think it’s going to go through; so does facilitator and Boss. Even DH is relatively confident about it. I think we can safely say that this is going through.


I swung by my dad’s house on the way home. We chatted for a little bit, then I said, “Well, Dad, I have to tell you that it’s very possible that you will have two grandchildren born within a short time span.”

His eyes went wide, then faded, then he did a triple take.

He smiled hugely.


I was hoping that DH wouldn’t tell his parents until today, but he said, “I had to tell someone.” So I’m on the phone with MIL last night and she’s giving me this shit about the old wives tale about how cats harm babies. I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes.

That’s the kind of shit I *don’t* need.


When I talked to my sister last night, she was surprised and then extremely excited. I asked for her help: my brother and sister in law are having their baby boy sometime this week also. Did she have any clue what they were naming their son? I need to know in case it’s a boy. Lord knows we don’t need two grandchildren named James. You know, she got all coy and crap, and it really pissed me off. I have no control over anything right now, and this is something I need control of, and she’s playing games! I’m so pissed.

No, I’m not close to my little brother (little, ha – he’s 35) or his wife. I’m not comfortable calling them, especially this close to her delivering. It’s going to be bad enough that my brother will get it in his head that we’re doing this to upstage them, when everyone else knows we have absolutely no control of this situation.
I just needed a simple answer – even an initial! Jeez! I just need to know. Why do people make stressful situations so hard?


So now it’s down to work: I’m going to start with a car seat and work my way around, as well as kicking around names and narrowing down lists. It’s all so sudden (yeah I know, Bri, I know! LOL), shocking, mind-blowing, and I’m still absorbing it, so if I don’t exactly sound euphoric, please forgive me.

On Monday I was stunned, Tuesday was the big meltdown, Wednesday was recovery from the meltdown, Thursday morning was tension and afternoon was calm and placid; last night was full of frustration from MIL and my sister. Now, today, I'm drained, and it seems a little unreal, you know? Today is like, 'is this really happening?' and I can't believe that I'll be actually buying a baby car seat (hopefully) this afternoon, then other things from there.

I mean, I can't believe that I'll be choosing an outfit to bring the baby home in.

Holy crap!