Happy Birthday Grampapa

Grampapa had a birthday this week.. and we made him some cards.

Frankie Doodle Dan-dette

You were right, Great Grammy Elsie! She does look just like a little baby doll in this sweet outfit you sent us.

And Great Grandmother Angie, this "honey bee dress" is Margot's absolute favorite.

If only my entire day were going to be as peaceful and precious as these few moments were!!! We spent upwards of 2 1/2 hours "putting the girls to bed" last night. Sigh. We absolutely REFUSE to let these girls beat us. More importantly we absolutely refuse to let the girls' grow up without knowing their limits. It's so difficult setting limits. You get so tired of enforcing them. You feel like a super hero when they are honored without a reminder from you. The girls eat their food at each meal.. our bathrooms have gone from having "Froggy Potties" and potty seats to just having potty seats with stools to having just stools for the big potty to just being regular old bathrooms again.. with stools for washing hands. The seasons have changed from fighting over food and crying at night about potty training frustrations to enjoyable meals (most of the time) to being able to feed them whatever we want and go anywhere and everywhere in our big girl panties. We have been fighting this bedtime battle since we started potty training in December of last year.. our resolve has been strong and weak. This week and last it has been strong.. just please pray for us if you think of us around 7pm in the evening. It is un-stinkin' believable how stubborn these two are. Last night we just had to laugh.. for the first hour at least.. then fatigue and heart break got to us a little. It's not easy listening to your children scream for you over and over.. and take advantage of your kindnesses. As in, you feel sorry for them as you are putting them back in bed for the 67th time and take a few extra moments to tickle their backs or snuggle them close before leaving the room.. only to have them act like they have fallen asleep in comfort.. then jump right back out of bed screaming the moment they lose sight of you. I believe this will pass.. just like all our other struggles .. it has too right?! I keep saying that to myself and this week at least, I believe it. I shudder to think what sort of battles await us in the future. I did have a flash of the Lord's comfort last night though. A picture of Ada (who was the last holdout last night) being an absolute crusader for Christ in an oppressed country, refusing to budge as naysayers tried to chase her away from a group of people she was trying to help.. a group of people who needed her. Who wanted her there. Who were afraid of the people trying to make her leave. Ada was not afraid. Ada was sure. Steadfast. Stubborn.

As a Christian parent it is my greatest fear that my children would turn from the faith that has been so central in my life. At the same time, I know I don't want them to accept my faith just because they are my children.. I want them to find it and experience it for themselves. So I pray that these stubborn little hearts would come to know Jesus in a personal way some day, and be stubbornly for Him. And right now.. I pray that Jesus would help them sleep!!!!

This post was more random that I meant it to be. Oh well.

Surprise

This morning as I was downstairs putting our coverlet into the washer, Ada called for me to come back upstairs. When I reached the top step she was standing in the doorway to our bedroom. "I have a surprise for you, Mom!" she said stepping to the side, "I made your bed for you!" Tears people (it doesn't take much these days).



She was so proud of herself. Look what a good job she did.



It has been a good morning.

Happiness

Yes, she is pretty much the cutest baby in the whole wide world. She is growing up far too quickly. She is already digging her feet and knees into the carpet trying to travel around the living room floor. I think we may have a 6 month crawler on our hands folks.

Fall

Fall is my favorite time of year. I love getting to wear snuggly clothes .. and getting the girls dressed for cold weather.. such a joy. Here we are yesterday getting ready for a beautiful fall day.



Here we are this morning.. day two of chilly weather. Preciousness.



This is about 30 minutes later...



.. and five minutes after that.

Lest you think it was all pink lollipops and peonies from there on out I am currently listening to Ada screaming on the floor. Fall.. that wonderful time of year when you truly understand why some animals eat their young.

Think you have a stubborn kid.. Ha! I laugh at your stubborn kid. Come to my house, where the children have wills forged in titanium.

Winning

No, that is not a nod at the ever annoying Charlie Sheen. It is the sum total of my day today as SAHM (Stat At Home Mom for the uninitiated). Ah hmm! (clears throat)

Frankie wakes up screaming this morning and won't eat for several hours = losing

Stephen stays a little late so I can pump = winning

Frankie won't even touch the bottle of pumped milk = losing

No shower for the last two days = losing

Girls won't FREAKIN' stay in their beds at bedtime resulting in various form of punishment as well as emotionally and physically draining Stephen and I of our remaining energy from any given day = losing

Ada figures out she can get up and down from the potty all by herself without the help of her step stool = winning

Margot wants us to count items on the counting page of her Richard Scary Word Book during lunch time and makes it all the way to the acorns = winning

Mary calls me at lunch time and gives me a mini-pep talk while I sit in tears in the bathroom hiding from the girls for a few moments = winning

Currently listening to Stephen wage WWIII with Ada to keep her in her bed = losing

Finding dairy, soy, chocolate free cookies last night and almost consuming the entire bag = winning/losing (can a person qualify as a repressed individual from lack of sweets?)

Ada and Margot now sit in bed and read books on their own before crawling under their covers and falling asleep for nap.. such big girls = winning

Frances and Margot wake up from nap just as I am dozing off = losing

Margot snuggles up and watches movie while Frances giggles for the first time = winning

Ada has a little pee-pee accident during nap = losing

I have my very own washer dryer in the house to wash the dirty sheets right away = winning

Stephen coming home a little early = a nice long hot shower for me = winning

Cooking dinner for a new friend and being able to actually deliver it on time = winning

Frances recovers from her bad day and eats a huge dinner tonight = winning

In the space of time that it has taken me to type this, Stephen has managed to get the girls to stay in bed.. and it's only 8:16 = winning

My day today has been incredible. Not incredibly good or incredibly bad.. just incredible. I have comforted the sweetest, cutest, most adorable baby on the planet while she screamed in agony and gurgled from her refluxing. I have dressed my girls, helped them brush their hair and teeth, only to have them discard their clothing and run around in their panties all day. I myself stayed in my PJs all day.. and that sounds too cute for what it was.. I stayed in what I slept in all day. Are you picturing a frumpy housewife type with saggy boobs in a nursing top and slept-in hair..? Good. This afternoon, when a friend called to vent about the troubles that life sometimes hands us, I felt like I was running a marathon. No, that term is used too much I think. When I hung up the phone to go and comfort Frankie and get the girls ready for their nap, I honestly had the fleeting thought that I was in battle. Speaking to my friend felt like a call from another general to discuss battle tactics. I walked through the living room answering two sets of the same rapid fire questions that I answer every day ("Why do we have to go night night?" "Can I have another sip of water?" "Can you hop me up the stairs?" etc.). I weathered their barrage of pre-school logic with an ease that only comes from practice, all the while jostling their baby sister to help her get the air out of her tummy. It's hard to explain but it's almost like a runner's high, the moment you realize you are in control of the situation. The dog is barking and you are answering a billion questions while bouncing a baby and making a pot roast (lets not kid ourselves, that was in the Crock Pot but still!), the phone rings and your daughter clings to your thigh as you switch loads of laundry and your mind is spinning and you almost want to scream and then.. you don't. Your baby gives a huge belch and a happy grin, the laundry whirs it's way to cleanliness, the house warms with the aroma of comfort food, and you realize you are glad your Ollie barks at you when he needs to pee instead of squatting on the floor and you know the answers to most of Ada's questions and when you don't you are able to make her giggle instead of cry, and Margot just needs some lovin'. You've got this. Even though the house looks like a tornado came through and you look like you swore you never would.. you are in control and things are going the way you need them to go... and you feel so grateful. Grateful to God, grateful to every person who has whispered a prayer for you today, grateful for.. well.. Prozac! In the end, it isn't about winning or losing.. it's about how you played the day.

Just a glimpse..

..of how much energy we have every. single. day.

I have been waiting to say this aloud for fear of backsliding but.. we are officially 100% potty trained and have been for a good few weeks now. I am talking about Ada of course but it's nice to use the we isn't it? They are both in their big girl undies all day and all night. No more pull-ups.. they have been keeping these dry for awhile but I was just too nervous to leave them off while they were sleeping. They are so used to wearing the regular panties now that if you try to put a pull up on them it's very uncomfortable so.. what the heck right? Feels nice to have two out of disposable underthings.. finally. Just a shade under a year.. well done Ms. Ada :)

The dairy free thing really isn't that bad.. but the no chocolate no coffee thing is about to kill me. I don't need the coffee anymore.. I just WANT the coffee.. and the chocolate.. the dark chocolate from Trader Joe's .. just a bite.. I thought carob was going to be a good substitute but I think it still bothers her since every time I try to eat some she gets fussy a few hours later when she is feeding. Le sigh. Oh well.. I will eat chocolate again.. some day. I can't believe she is almost 4 months already. The girls were ready to eat solids by this point... I don't think she is.. I might even wait until 6 months this time. She seems pretty happy right now so .. we will go with it until that changes.

I recently read "The Help" and I was so hooked I finished it in 2 days. Loved the book.. but then... kinda hated the way it ended. Predictable and sort of dullish considering how spicy the rest of the book had been.. parts of it anyway. Anyway I was even more disappointed in the tiny bit of the movie that Stephen found online. I kind of hate it when I read a junk food book and really like it then.. it ends with some bland ho-hum cliche.. like Skeeter getting a job in NYC..? Really? Was I the only one that was bored with this? I dunno.. the last book that I was that attached too was "The Time Traveler's Wife" and I bawled on the subway when I finished it. I was so hoping for a few tears and that feeling of homesickness for the characters that have become a part of your thoughts. I almost felt a little embarrassed for being so attached that I couldn't put it down.. since when I did it was in mild disgust. Am I the only one that felt this way about this book? Anyone have any good suggestions for something that won't disappoint the way this one did?

Cut

This morning they begged me to cut their hair to look like mine.. really! I hesitated for a bit.. then thought.. what the heck! They were so excited.. maybe a little more excited than I was.. but not much.







"Hold my shoulder like you love me Ada."

Yes, I am glad I did it. Yes, I saved every ringlet. Yes, I cried just a little bit.

There was a tense moment there before I actually cut Ada's hair when Margot decided she wanted to keep hers long. I thought that would actually be cool, since they would finally look different. As soon as Ada was finished and bouncing down the stairs to show Oliver her new hair cut.. Margot changed her mind and they are doppelgangers once more. Pretty sure this is the first time they haven't been identical for any length of time.. even if it was only 5 minutes.

.. as the day draws to a close..

.. I sit and reflect on a few phrases that left my mouth today..

"What am I doing?! I am trying to survive that's what I am doing."

"If you wake up your sister, so help me, I will paint you both green!!!"

"I do NOT have 'Dora' hair!"

"Girls we are not going to make it through this day.. without Jesus! "

"Ada put Margot's blanket back over her broom or you are going to time out!"

"Margot! Leave Ada alone.. she doesn't want your lollipop!!!"

Goodnight all.

Quick One

Guess who...

Life around here with 3, 3 and under has been just about like life with 2. Ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!! Anyone with more than 2 knows that just isn't the case :) Honestly though, now that Frances is a little older and past most of her drama, she is such an easy baby. She loves to just sit in her seat or on her blanket and watch our world go by those baby blues. She still has significant issues with reflux (no spitting up just a lot of pain) so I have stopped dairy, soy and caffeine (which includes chocolate..) and that seems to help. It has been a challenge but one nice side effect is that I have become a much more disciplined person.. and .. drum roll please.. my migraines have all but stopped. Could it have been dairy consumption all the time? If so I may never eat another bowl of ice cream.. and be ok with that. It has been a new experience to try and find the protein needed to nurse the baby and not have any come from milk and cheese .. or soy products. I have made peace with Trader Joe's canned tuna. A can of tuna mixed with relish for lunch with crackers and carrots... smells like cat food but it is a super protein boost. I am also eating lots of boiled egg whites.. yeah .. don't invite me over for lunch... you could smell my food a mile away. BUT if it helps her eat and not be in pain.. I will do it as long as I need to. Since I now have to be so conscious of my food intake, I have started treating myself to a few more treats that I usually buy. Like kale, lots of avocados and dairy free treats from Whole Foods. Yes, I like to snack on kale.. snack on it.. tell me you aren't jealous. I have also started swimming again. At least 18 laps (1/2 mile) each time.. my buddy T is my new pool partner and our sweet husbands watch the kids so we can go. Heaven. So far it's twice a week.. starting to want to make it a nightly event.

The truth? Life with 3 is about as crazy as you might imagine it to be. We have longs stretches of sanity followed by storms of insanity. Right now the girls are sitting next to Frances reading her books and being little angels. Yesterday this time I was dragging them both upstairs to get dressed, kicking and screaming, while calling out "Girls!!! We are not going to make it through this day... without Jesus!!!!" Roar. Today I am still fresh from showering at the gym late last night.. a long luxurious QUIET shower. Yesterday I hadn't showered since my last trip to the gym (Monday) and I was avoiding my own reflection. Meanwhile all 3 of my children were clean and dressed adorably. Isn't it funny how you do that? Can't take the time to get yourself together but you can spend time putting your children's hair in pigtails.

... and now Frankie is crying for a nap and Margot needs me to help her find her caterpillar.. life marches on.

Three Years

Dear Margot,

Today is your birthday!!! You are 3 years old. This is my favorite recent picture of you. When I asked you why you liked to stand with your hands on your hips you told me "puz (because) that's the way mommies stand". You are my little mommy. You take such good care of your baby sister. You are so gentle and patient with her. You have lots and lots of babies. Today your favorite baby is your new puppy from Uncle Page and Aunt Jenny. Yesterday you took your puppy to Marbles in your backpack. I had a conversation with you yesterday about your favorite things. You told me that your favorite color is black and yellow, your favorite animals are cows and turtles, your favorite food is spaghetti, your favorite person is Ada and your favorite house is our house. Your hugs and snuggles are filled to the brim with love. Your excitement about life is contagious. Every day you grow more patient with yourself and others. You love to paint and draw with anything that makes a mark. You can already use the mouse to navigate Netflix and Youtube and you like it put back in a very specific place after you are finished with it. You are always busy doing something and whatever that something is you take very seriously. You love to jump. You jump over toys on the floor, off the bottom step, over the thresholds in the house, off your bed.. you sometimes just jump to get around! You love to read books. You like to do everything "by a self!". When you think you need help you don't hesitate to ask for it. You sleep so hard at nap that you wake up with wet curls plastered to your forehead. You are completely potty trained and have been since we did that first two weeks of bootcamp back at Christmas time. You are a great helper. You always put your dishes in the sink after meals and clean up any spills you make all by yourself. When I think of you I remember that little shy baby in my tummy, who never showed her face to the ultrasound. That little baby who I was worried about and decided to have a C-section to make sure you arrived as easily as your sister. I think of the serious little baby in her bouncy seat, contentedly playing with toys while I tried to soothe your fussy sister. I think of you setting your mind to a task.. like learning to put yourself to sleep.. and working at it until you have it mastered. You are still that way and pray you never change. You are a joy. You are a joker. You are my precious daughter and I couldn't imagine a better life than being your mother.



Dear Ada,

Today is your birthday!!! You are 3 years old. This is my favorite recent picture of you. You are the tiny one at the front of the line in the purple shirt. Daddy told me you led the parade of kids down the stream. This wasn't your first time as leader either. You have been starting games and leading kids around a lot this summer. Ada you are my little outgoing lady. You love people and love to talk to people, whether they are listening or not! It takes you forever to finish your dinner because you are talking so much you don't take time to chew and swallow the food on your plate. You love to tell stories just like Margot. You love to describe everything that happened in a day or event. Every detail. You are an amazing big sister to Frankie. You never go to bed without kissing her good-night. You are so gentle with her and she loves to hear you sing. Ada you live life on fast forward. Always headed to the next big thing. You wake up in the morning asking to go "bye bye". If you could spend every day of your life going wherever our little red car is headed that day you would be in heaven. You love going to Daddy's school and doing painting and drawing in his classroom. I had a conversation with you this morning about your favorite things. You told me your favorite color is pink, your favorite animal is a pink horsey, your favorite food is pink ice cream with pink icing, your favorite house is a pink baby house.. you said you didn't like our house and that you needed a pink baby house to live in. You wear your pink Hello Kitty flip flops every day.. even when you are in your jammies or just in your undies before bed! You prefer to wear "baller-nina" dresses rather than shorts or anything else. Comfort is the key to your wardrobe.. comfort and color.. and twirl-ability. You can navigate the computer as well as Margot and are so patient with her requests for you to put the mouse in her special spot. You are a hugger! When you are sad, sometimes all you need is a big hug and snuggle to get your head back on straight. You are a good listener. You love to dance. You love to take care of your babies . You ask me "why" about 856 times a day and don't get upset when I give up with a "I don't know honey." and a sigh. You just respond "Oh Mama.. that's ok!" You can jump off of just about anything and are always up for a challenge. You are always kissing my face and touching my cheek with a soft little hand. You come and hold my hand when you think I am sad. When I think of you I think of my little baby, my first baby, the first baby that I saw. I think of you fussing and snuggling and struggling to get comfy when you were little. I think of the triumph I felt when I could get you to sleep. I think of you standing up in your crib for the first time. That day I had so looked forward too and there you were, standing all by yourself. I think of your first steps, the way I just put you down after a diaper change and you just started walking.. 6 steps before you plopped down. I love you more than I could ever express and being your mommy has been such a joy.

60 seconds of Frankie

She..

...sounds like a kitten mewing when she cries.

...grins when she sees or hears her mommy or daddy come into her field of vision.

...will sit for long periods of time (30-40 minutes) happily listening to her sisters sing to her or read her books.

...loves to snuggle.

...loves to be swaddled tight.

...goes to bed around 7:30.

...sleeps a 7 hour and a 3 hour stretch at night.

...falls asleep almost instantly if you snuggle her tight against your chest and breathe into her hair with your lips pressed against her forehead.

...is such a treat for her mommy.

Having one baby has been extraordinary. I feel like she is mine.. all mine. I can hold her as much as I want too. Put her down to nap when I want too. Feed her when I want too. Cuddle her when I want too. Rock her as long as I want too. Sing to her as much as I want too. I get to give her all my attention when I am focusing on her. She is so easy going it is pretty easy to balance taking care of her with taking care of her wild and crazy fun sisters. I always felt like the twins were a project when they were babies. I loved being with them and holding them, but we had to schedule them so carefully and be so strict to survive those first months that I felt like I missed getting all the snuggles and babying them. My only real snuggle time was when I helped them sleep at nap time and that was super sweet. Having one has just been.. so different in the best sense possible.

Monday

Today, Frances went to the pool with us for the first time in her short life. She didn't get into the water but she sported a cute little suit anyway. She is so girly. She is a quick smiler so this is about as good as it get for capturing that sweet little look.



The best picture of the day taken by our friend Kathy. That magnificent man slid down the water slide umpteen times and every time he managed to keep those little girls just enough out of the water to keep them from being scared. Such an amazing daddy.



Ada was more into taking deeper plunges than Margot but that is just the way she is.. Ada is a bit of a risk taker. She is our free spirit. She wouldn't make it without Margot to keep her on her toes. Today they got into a little yelling match because Margot was playing in their little kitchen and Ada came along and dumped a bunch of the fruits and veg on the floor and started kicking them around like tiny soccer balls. Margot yelled at her for "making a mess" and Ada just grinned and continued to push Margot's buttons. After asking Ada to find something else to play with ("Ok Mama! {big tight hug around my leg...love that girl}) Stephen made some comment about wanting to keep them in the same room as long as possible. I said I thought they would always share a room and he responded that Ada might drive Margot crazy not cleaning up after herself. I laughed imagining that fight being played out by our future hard headed teens. We decided by then they would be used to each other's habits and besides.. Ada will probably just let Margot clean up the room for her! Funny how when it is time to put away toys Ada is always the first to start while day dreaming Margot fiddles with something on the other end of the room.

My favorite Margot comment of the day came on our way home from the pool today. I heard Margot instructing Ada that she needed to sleep in her big girl bed(Ah-da! You need sleep in your big girl bed!!), over and over and over. Finally I turned around to see what was going on and there was Ada drifting off to sleep in her car seat as we raced home for nap time. I tickled Ada awake while Margot sang what she considered an appropriate wakeful song - Twinkle Twinkle Little Star - to keep Ada awake until we got home. At one point I noticed the singing had died out and sure enough, Margot had put herself to sleep with her own singing! Ada and I giggled Margot back awake (she shot us both a sheepish grin when she opened her sleepy eyes). It has been a good day.

In no particular order..

These are some of my favorite photos from the last few weeks. Weeks that saw us home instead of in the hospital. I am not even going to attempt to "catch up" from where I left off.. instead I will start from now. There.. I feel the self imposed blogger guilt lifting already.

Our recent days have been easy.. and hard.. full of fun and an extreme desire to get into the car and drive away at top speed without looking back. The ups and downs of parenting, postpartum recovery, and raising (almost) 3 year olds.

Frances has reflux issues so I have cut dairy, soy, and caffeine from my diet. No, almond milk is not as good as cold glass of skim, but a baby who eats a full feeding and doesn't arch her back and scream in agony sure is nice. It has made all the difference and I plan to keep it up as long as it helps.

And now for a few pictures..



A&M decorated a pony shaped birthday cake for they good buddy Tay-Tay.



Desperate for the great outdoors, Stephen took them camping in the living room.






We have played a lot of hide and seek. Margot believes that if any part of her is under something.. she is completely invisible. Yes, she is hiding under the door mat.



These girls absolutely adore.. and I mean adore with a capital A, their little Frankipot. That is her nick name at the moment. Frances Pauline - Franky P - Frank-i-potomus - Frankipot. These are the things Stephen and I did to keep our sanity during the long days in the hospital. Make up nonsensical names for our 3rd born.






Oliver turned 7 earlier this month. Can you believe it?! We can't either. I do sometimes long for the days when he was an only child.



Margot, artiste in residence.



Sweet Ada Grey who looooooooves her "Frank-e-pot". Yesterday she showed Franky how to bat at the toys dangling in front of her on her bouncy seat. Franky was eager to please, wrangling her tiny limbs into submission and actually hitting the butterfly a couple of times. Ada praised her efforts and she smiled a toothless grin.

The girls also gave up their "dat-dat"s about a week ago. Yes, their sleeping has been a nightmare ever since. We are having to retrain them entirely it seems. We are exhausted, sleep deprived, second guessing our parenting strategies and ideas.. the usual stuff right? I have a feeling since they were once amazing sleepers, that they will eventually return to being amazing sleepers. After all they were once incredible eaters.. then they were super duper picky.. now they will eat whatever we ask them too again. Sleeping has got to be the same cycle sort of thing right? Don't even tell me if you think I am wrong, I don't think I can handle it. Isn't it funny though, no matter how hard things get, or how frustrated you become.. there are still those moments of full on belly laughs. Like tonight when Margot was carrying her bowl of spaghetti to the sink after dinner and dropped in all right on the floor.. and Ada was right behind her and did the exact same thing just as Stephen bent down to clean up the first mess. It was like a paper towel commercial I swear! We both laughed so hard. It's true that being a parent is the hardest and the most rewarding job you will ever do. So cliche.. but so true.

Surgery for Frances

Right after getting her breathing tube out in the PICU

The little hand is on 11. The big hand is on 12. It is 11 o' clock. It is check-up time for Frances.
Mother kisses her and hopes for the best. Father kisses her and prays for weight gain. Frances goes with Mother to see the doctor. Frances loses weight. Mother cries, the doctor cries, Frances is admitted to WakeMed. Frances thinks, "They will figure out what is wrong with my tummy so I can go home soon." Mother packs a bag. Father packs a bag. Mother and Father spend the night with Frances at the hospital.

It is morning on day three of being in the hospital. Frances is not feeling any better. The Pediatric ENT who released her at Rex comes to see her again. He announces that she has severe laryngomalacia. Mother is confused. Father is confused. They remember the same doctor telling them that her condition was not only mild but harmless.

Mr. ENT says he doesn't feel comfortable treating this "severe atypical form" of laryngomalacia. Mr. ENT says she will need surgery. Frances thinks, "W-T-F?!?!?" Mr. ENT suggests that Frances be transferred to NC Children's Hospital at UNC. Dr. WakeMed agrees. The transport team arrives with a heated aquarium looking thing to take Frances to UNC. Frances gets to ride in the giant transport ambulance. Mother and Father follow behind in their little red car. Frances is admitted to UNC Hospital.

It is the weekend. No testing or true treatments can be done until Monday when the teams return to work. Frances enjoys a weekend of throwing up her food and starting to be fed by an NG tube running down her nose.. which she throws up as well. Mother is tired. Father is tired. Frances is tired. The nurses and myriad of doctors and medical students at UNC are incredible. The doctor's say, "We don't call things "atypical" here. We see it all so this doesn't look unusual to us." Mother feels cared for. Father feels hopeful. Frances tries hard to get better on her own.


A super happy (naughty) girl who just pulled her NG feeding tube out for the second time

It is Monday. The teams are assembled. ENT and pulmonary doctors meet to discuss what is to be done to help Frances. They will do a scope in the OR on Wednesday so that if they think surgery is necessary they will only have to sedate her once. Mother is relieved to have a date to work towards. Father wishes it was sooner. Frances is asleep. Frances is so tired from trying to breathe that she sleeps around the clock unless she is more uncomfortable than usual. Frances can not keep any food down that she eats orally.. so she is giving a "continuous feed" via her NG tube.

It is Wednesday. It is surgery day. Mother carries Frances in her arms to the surgical area. Mother prays. Father prays. Frances sleeps. The nurses and doctors take Frances from Mother and walk away towards the OR. Mother and Father go to the waiting room. Soon the doctor comes out. Mother's heart jumps. Father turns red. The doctor gives them the diagnosis. It is as they expected, a severe case of laryngomalacia. They are proceeding with the surgical intervention (a superglotoplasty) and should be done soon. Mother thanks the doctor. Father thanks the doctor. Frances has surgery and is transferred to the pediatric intensive care unit (PICU) for further observation.

It is Friday. Frances has had her breathing tube removed and has been breathing on her own for 24 hours. She is doing very well. A speech therapist has already been to her room twice to feed her with a bottle to see if she could eat. Frances has had to learn how to breathe and swallow again with a little less tissue in her throat. Frances is a quick study. The ENTs say she is doing better than expected. The pulmonologists think she sounds wonderful. Frances is ready to go back to the pulmonary ward. Mother is thrilled. Father is ecstatic. Frances is waiting for a room to open up so she can continue her recovery up on the 5th floor. Frances thinks, "When will I be well enough to go back home to my house and see my big sisters?". Mother wonders the same thing. Father is going stir crazy in the PICU. The doctors make it sound like it won't possibly be before Monday.

To be continued....

In which I start to lose it a little..

So since I was writing this lovely detailed account after the fact.. I thought I would do it in sections.. since Franky was home with us and it was just too crazy to write it while she was in the Special Care Nursery. And then.. all hell broke loose. In a manner of speaking. She started to lose weight this past Monday.. they gave us 24 hours to get her to gain.. she did.. we all cheered.. they said keep it up for the next 2 days and come back for a check.. we did.. she started throwing most of her food up.. and when we came back.. she had lost weight.. and off we went to the pediatric unit of WakeMed to be admitted... now I am sitting here in a room of NC Children's Hospital at UNC in Chapel Hill.. and I am starting to lose my motherly cool a little bit. I would love to tell you all the details of how we got here and why we are here and all of that jazz.. but if I don't write what is really going on in my head I am going to have a major meltdown and I can't afford to do that just now.

The short version of what is going on is that she is having trouble breathing.. thus isn't gaining weight.. failure to thrive for lack of a better term.. or FTT is why she was admitted. We are Chapel Hill because they are the best facility on the East Coast and she needs their expertise.

You know the worst part about being in a children's ward of a hospital..? The crying. The crying children who are in pain or being given a shot or just plain feel terrible so they cry.. and cry.. and you can hear them and it breaks my heart.. so I start crying... The staff are all so friendly and helpful.. kind.. patient... but yet I am here on the floor where they do mostly pulmonary and oncology .. in kids. Kids with cancer. All around. Next door. A toddler in the same sort of bed Frances is laying in. Bald.. with tubes running everywhere. Down the hall.. another bald teenager is pushing his IV...joking with some nurses. My baby doesn't have cancer. Praise the Lord my baby doesn't have cancer. I feel like I have no right to be emotional when Franky is not dealing with life threatening issues. So I smile and nod and tell the story of how we arrived here 65 times to various doctors and attendings .. nurses.. residents.. I can handle this I tell myself. No worries.. thank goodness we have a diagnosis and we just need to figure out how to treat it now. What she has is very common.. thank goodness! Take a deep breath and go pump some breastmilk because she will need to eat in an hour. And then I hear one of those kids cry and I just go to pieces inside. I want to run to their room and hold them tight until they calm down. Hold their mama's hand. Wanna know another thing that really sucks about being in the hospital with your two week old baby ...? You can't hold her unless you are right next to all the cords and wires coming off of her body.. you can't take her to snuggle on the fold out chair you are sleeping on.. you can't change her diaper without getting tangled in something that sets off an alarm. You can't crawl into bed with her.. you can't take her place. You can only watch.. and comfort.. and hum songs to her.. sing to her.. tell her how much her big sisters miss her.. how much you love her.. how everything is going to be ok..
I feel like I am handling this all pretty well.. but then Stephen goes home in the evening to spend some time with the girls and put them down to bed.. and I am here alone.. in the quiet of the room.. no doctors checking in.. no tests being run.. and I just want to go home. I just want to take her out of here and go home. I miss my girls.. I miss my Ada and my Margot.. this is not the way it was supposed to be. We were supposed to be home.. all together.. sleep deprived and cranky.. but happy and together.. well.. whole.. I want to go home.

Part 2: Getting Her Here

(Stephen's sketch of me in labor)

I sat, I layed down, I walked around, I climbed up and down the stairs.. I did everything I could think of to make the contractions go away.. and they didn't stop. I tracked them on a my little note pad for 3 hours. They were never completely consistent but they were getting closer and closer together. 6 minutes, 5 minutes, 8 minutes, 3 minutes, 4 minutes.. the pain was getting more intense and I started to wonder if my verbal attempts to breathe through them might be mistaken for some sort of x-rated video if overheard by the sleepers upstairs. Finally I decided that this was something at least more real than the night before and called the doctor. The automated message told me that once again Dr. Cranky was on call. DANG IT. I hung up fast, waiting another agonizing 30 minutes and watched as the contractions became even closer together, averaging 4 minutes apart. I screwed up my courage and put on my big girl panties and called him back. I woke him up again, since by this time it was about 4:15 am. I told him the situation, pausing to breathe through yet another contraction, and he groggily told me to come on in again and get checked out. I hung up and struggled up the stairs to wake Stephen. He was wide awake in moments and we gathered the few things we had left to put into our hospital bag, he went and whispered to Mary (who was slumber partying on an air mattress in the girls' room.. and still is by the way) that we were on our way to the hospital again.

I continued to have contractions every 4 minutes on the dot all the way to the hospital.. ouch.. how did you do that in a cab L ?!?!? We waddled inside and checked back into the birth center. It took moments to let us know that we were there to stay this time. I even started throwing up.. not a big deal for me of course but just another sure sign that I really was in labor. The nurse was super nice and super quick and we were on our way to a labor and delivery room. Once we were there Dr. Grumpy arrived to see how things were going (for the record I really like this doctor.. in person.. just not a big fan of calling and waking him up). I was only dilated about 1 1/2 but things were progressing well so he went away again. Stephen and I were so excited to be on this new adventure.. I never even went into labor with the girls. He held my hand through the contractions and swore that I wasn't hurting him when I squeezed (later he admitted that I had dug my fingernails into this skin :). After another 4 hours or so the doctor came in and saw that I had not really progressed beyond that 1 1/2. By this point I was pretty exhausted. I hadn't really slept in 3 days and though the contractions were still something I could handle with smiles in between.. there wasn't much room to rest with them coming every 3 minutes. I decided was ready for an epidural... I just needed some sleep.. badly. I was still throwing up and now I could feel a slight headache starting to brew up there. Dr. H (as he shall now be known from this point forward) was old school and so could do his own epidurals and he came in about 20 minutes later to take care of it. Strange strange feeling, there was burning.. cold sensations.. pain that felt like I had been kicked in the back.. and most disturbingly a series of pops and cracks as he threaded the thing in there.. and then a warning. Only about 85% of these things actually work.. so .. cross your fingers. Mine was in that 15%. Sigh of relief. My lower half felt like it had been wrapped in a warm blanket. The contractions raged away on the monitor, rain pattered on the windows of our room.. Stephen opened his sketch book and started drawing.. and I slipped off to sleep. It was heavenly. The next time he came through I had dilated another 2! Since I was trying for a VBAC the fact that he epidural didn't seem to be slowing things down was a very good sign as that had been a risk of this pain reliever. I went back to sleep, encouraged. I woke about an hour later to some pain. The epidural wasn't working on my left side. I told the nurse it was fine since it wasn't nearly as painful as the full deal had been. But despite her best efforts to fix the problem they only got more painful.. another 3 hours with no sleep but I still felt good and rested from the nap I had taken while things were working properly. When Dr. H returned to check things we were shocked to learn that there had been no progress. He decided to let me go another hour or so and check again. He was looking a bit concerned since he has actually witnessed several uterine ruptures (along with my nurse) and he didn't want to take any chances. When he returned again there had still be no progress. The issue was that ever since my arrival at the hospital my contractions had never really regulated.. they were erratic from the start and that was not encouraging. He made the decision that we were headed for another C-Section. In his words "In Vegas you can bet the house and lose and still walk away.. but this isn't Vegas.. and we aren't better houses.". I had met with him several times during the last 9 months and each time I had agreed to follow his (or the other doctors in the practice) advice at all times if I wanted to try this VBAC thing so I didn't even shed a tear when he told me this news. I was prepared. I knew it was a risk and above all I wanted our little one to get here safely and not lose any important reproductive organs in the process. Within 20 minutes we were rolling down that familiar hall toward the OR.

The spinal was administered.. I listened while the nurses teased Dr. H about his approaching retirement... giggled when he drew a funny face on my belly with his surgical marker. Then Stephen showed up.. and moments later they told him he could look over the curtain and he watched her being born. As soon as she cried I burst into tears.. of course. The nurses exclaimed about what a big girl she was (7 lbs and 15 oz) and announced that she had a head full of dark hair. She was absolutely beautiful. They took her off to bathe her.. Stephen followed. The team started stitching me back up. I tried to go to sleep on the table.. I was so stinkin' tired at this point. Tired and relieved that she was here and that at 3:08 in the afternoon on May 23rd I had my 3rd daughter safe and sound. Soon we were on our way to recovery.. together! That didn't happen with the girls.

She was beside me getting her first real bath and when she fussed I talked to her from feet away and she went silent and looked in my direction. My heart soared. I shivered my way through the morphine and spinal wearing off.. I trembled my way through loads of questions and instructions I had heard before. Meanwhile Stephen hovered between the two of us. Dr. H came in to see everyone and apologize for the tiny cut he had made on her cheek.. the nurses teased him.. we assured him it was fine .. it was just a scratch.. and thanked him for delivering our daughter safely. Franky's nurse kept hovering around her bed.. she was listening intently to her chest.. she smiled and joke and laughed but underneath it all.. she looked concerned. She called another nurse in to listen.. they kept it light.. but still looked concerned. They had heard something funny in her chest.. maybe she had inhaled some fluid. They would just keep checking, sure she was fine. We all headed to our more permanent hospital room.

Franky was pretty sleepy but I tried nursing her anyway.. she was too sleepy to latch. No worries - Ada was that way when she was born too. We took a few pictures. 15 minutes passed. That baby nurse showed back up. She just couldn't get that chest sound out of her head and had come back to check her again.. and check her oxygen saturation levels with a hand held device. She checked once.. twice.. she got another device to check the same thing.. still not satisfied she assured us that sometimes the battery powered ones didn't work correctly and she was going to take her to the nursery to check her on another monitor. They would bring her back in a few minutes or let us know what they found out. Stephen was ready to go get the girls and Grammy. I told him it was fine to go.. I was fine and resting comfortably by now. He kissed me, smiled with those happy eyes, and left.

Soon after he left a nurse came in to tell me that they were still watching her in the nursery and weren't sure how much longer she would be there. I called Stephen to tell him he better take the girls for ice cream instead since I wasn't sure when she would be back in the room, we would postpone the girls' visit until the next day. I waited.. and waited.. and waited. Several hours went by. I am probably a little overly patient when it comes to hospital stuff.. I didn't want to bother the nurses. After all .. they had told me they would let me know as soon as they heard anything. I started to get anxious.. and cranky.. and a little worried. Shift change happened. The new nurse came to introduce herself. I asked her where my baby was.. she told me, in a friendly matter-of-fact sort of way, that she had been moved to the "Special Care Nursery" upstairs.. hadn't anyone been in to tell me that? No.. no one had told me that. Why was she moved? She didn't really know she had just come on duty. Can you please find out?!?!? Absolutely. She came back to let me know that baby Frances had been ADMITTED to Special Care. Admitted?? Why?? Still not sure.. something about an x-ray and her having trouble breathing. Nausea as I tried to keep panic from entering my mind. Can you please PLEASE find out what is going?? The PA on duty will be down in a few minutes to talk to you. She smiled and she was oh so friendly and helpful.. I couldn't get frustrated with her.. I didn't want to scare her by crying in front of her. I held it together, called Stephen to see when the heck he was getting back to the hospital. He announced he was just walking into the hospital. What is wrong? I told him I didn't want to talk about it on the phone... just come straight to the room and we can talk about it.




My resolve was cracking.. my voice was cracking.. by the time he got to the room I was in full panic mode and tearfully told him the little that I knew. Mom and Dad showed up to surprise us with beautiful roses.. I burst into tears at the sight of them and sobbed about wanting to know what was going on and wanting my baby. Ellen showed up with fresh strawberries. I pulled it together again. The nurse came to let us know that the PA would be in at 7:30 to talk to us. We all waited together. Tried to make conversation.. and waited. I showed them our beautiful daughter on the tiny screen of our Nikon... and we waited.

Part 1: Grammy's Overnight Adventure

After having contractions on Friday and then all day Saturday (before the previously mentioned cliche early morning visit to the hospital) we called Mary to see if there was any chance she might be able to get here sooner than Wednesday. Sure enough, she jumped into action and found a ticket for a train that left Saturday night and arrived Sunday morning. She rode the rails through the night and once again arrived to meet the girls in highly dramatic fashion. She is raising the stakes with each visit.. airport.. now train station.. next time.. hot air balloon?



Mommy stayed home and tried to sleep through the contractions that decided to kick in again after we got home that morning. I wandered around all day wondering when things would be bad enough to call the doctor. I took several walks around the neighborhood. Kept updating the parentals, rested as much as I could. They started to get more and more painful. Harder to talk through. Then I couldn't talk through them. Went to bed that night wondering if I would get any sleep.. didn't. Got up and came downstairs to track my progress on my own so that Stephen could sleep... it was starting to look like this was the real thing.

Frances Pauline

Our sweet Frances Pauline was born on May 23rd at 3:08pm weighing 7 pounds and 15 ounces.
I feel rather embarrassed that I haven't written about her arrival until just now. This is mostly due to the amount of drama surrounding her arrival and the days following. I will say that she is home with us now and doing quite well.. as for the rest of the story.. stay tuned.



Most common comment on seeing our newest family member: "Look at that hair!!!!"