Everybody's puking, everybody's pooping!!

Yesterday morning, I felt a little sluggish, so I decided that instead of bringing my Labradoodle Marley's crate in from the trunk of my car, I'd block off the back room and let her roam free while we were at work. My bags, that I also did not feel like putting away, were "securely" placed in an area that I thought the dog wouldn't be able to get into nor would she be able to open the bag.

I should never underestimate the smarts of a poodle and the determination of a Labrador. That troublemaker not only got into my overnight bag, she took out all of my jewelry - thankfully didn't eat any of my valuables - ingested a Benadryl and licked clean my new container of skin cream. I knew I didn't need to call the vet, because the skin cream was all organic and made from natural ingredients, but I also knew that the result of her boredom and my stupidity would not leave me unpunished.

At about 6 p.m., Marley started puking, and shortly after that she had the runs. At roughly the same time, Matthew decided that he was going to poop up his back, get it into his hair, and then roll around so that it would seep through his clothes, onto the floor and all over mommy's white t-shirt. I put Eric on dog duty, and brought Matthew straight upstairs and into the bathtub.

When he decided he was done with the bath, he reached up and climbed into my arms soaking wet. I'm so glad I had just minutes before changed my shirt. He still needed his hair washed, so instead of making him upset by putting him back into the tub to finish up, I thought it'd be a brilliant idea to wash his hair in the sink. It would have worked out perfectly, except  I forgot to move a glass from the counter and Matthew promptly picked it up and threw it on the floor, shattering it into teeny tiny little pieces. I then moved my foot a fraction of a centimeter and stepped on the tiniest piece I could find so it embedded into my big toe and disappeared. It's only remnants was the stabbing pain that shot through my foot with each step I took. 

The remainder of the night consisted of a whiny 8 month old, a sick dog and a very cranky mommy. I'd like to thank my husband who cleaned up the glass and the rugs, and then put the baby to bed so that mommy could get some much-needed peace and quiet.

Overnight at Grandma's

I was in an out of town wedding this weekend, so I had to leave the baby overnight with "Amma" for the first time. I think the anticipation of leaving him was much worse than actually being away.

Don't get me wrong, I missed my baby so much, but at the same time, I knew he was in good hands. I was also reassured during the many checkins that Matthew was unaware I was even missing in action, because he was busy having fun with Amma, Aunt Chris and his cousins. He played hard and crashed harder, so he didn't even keep my mom up in the middle of the night. When I arrived at my mom's  house he was completely at ease.

I actually don't think Matthew started to miss me until I was back home and he was in my arms. It was then that he realized I was there again, and he wanted to nuggle in tight to my chest and stay close to me for the remainder of the night. He even bit down hard on my finger to make sure I wasn't a dream. Apparently, no one told him that the expression is pinch me to show me I'm not dreaming. The expression is NOT bite mommy to see if I'm dreaming. Yep buddy, I'm back, here's the bite mark to prove it.

The wedding was such a good time though. It was great to see my college friends all together again after such a long time. We laughed and cried and laughed some more. I danced until my joints hurt, I laughed until my cheeks hurt and I drank like I was in college again... It's two days after the festivities and I am still hungover. It's amazing how 9 years ago, we could party hard Friday and Saturday nights and still function the next day. It's Monday, and I am still having a hard time functioning. Thirty is definitely NOT the new 20. Congratulations to my dear friends Kelly and Adam on their nuptials. They are an amazing couple, and I am so honored to have been a part of their special day!

Why won't he sleep through the night?

When Matthew was first born, he was a great sleeper. We actually thought something was wrong with him, because he slept so well. I had to wake him to feed him and change him, and sometimes he even slept through that. Then, at about 4 months old, he flipped the tables. I can count on two fingers the number of times he's slept through the night since the 4 month mark, and let me tell you, Mama is tired!

These last few weeks have been especially trying in our household. Matt's been working on his fifth tooth and he let's everyone know about it. Poor Marley, my crazy Labradoodle, is even feeling the exhaustion.

Two nights ago, Matt woke up at 1 a.m. and the last time I checked the clock it was 4 a.m., so really, who knows how long we were up in the middle of the night. I tried everything, walking, rocking, feeding and resulted to testing out the cry it out method. Let me tell you, I hate the cry it out method. It literally makes me panicky. As he cries harder, my ears get hotter, my blood starts rushing and I can't help it, I have to go and pick him up. Some tough mommies may call me weak, but I can't help it. I also hear them telling me that he's manipulating me. You know what, I know he is, but as a first time mom I can't stop myself from running to him and soothing him.  My baby needs to know that I am there for him when he needs me.

Turn page to last night, Matt again woke up at 1 a.m. and I walked him, fed him, changed him, rocked him, laid on the couch with him where eventually he went off to dreamland or so I thought. Repeat steps 1 - 5.

My hair is starting to look ragged. My eyes have bags under them. And my bones are starting to ache with exhaustion. People said parenting gets easier with time. Time is passing. It's getting harder.

But at the end of the day, would I change any of it? Not a chance!

When to call the doctor?

When your child can not communicate in a way other than saying mama, dada, hiya and crying, it's really hard to know what's actually going on with him. Is he in pain? Is he tired? Does he just feel like making Mommy go nuts - most likely, but you never know!

Recently, Matt's been teething hard core. His top two teeth just popped through last weekend and he's working on a fifth tooth on the bottom, so needless-to-say the nights have been pretty rough in our household. Last Saturday, he started tugging at his left ear and he has a little bit of the sniffles, but it's been nothing like the typical colds we have seen, so I attributed it to teething. Monday he slept pretty well, Tuesday was awful, Wednesday was pretty good and then last night he woke up screaming. He was pretty inconsolable for about an hour, and because of it, I am pretty sure that my recently colored hair is now peppered with grays again.

Although I was pretty confident his odd behavior had to do with his teeth coming in, I decided to call the doctor hotline this morning to see if I should be worried. To my amazement, the doctor on the other end made me feel horrible that I hadn't come in sooner. He claimed that the runny nose and the tugging at the ear are not in conjunction with the soon-to-be toothy grin my son will be donning.

I admit, I've been a little gun shy when it comes to calling the doctor since the first pediatrician made me feel like the boy who cried wolf, and I did not want to make the same mistakes twice. So it got me thinking... What's a first time mom to do? Err on the side of caution or wait another week to see if it goes away? This morning I decided that it's better to be safe than sorry since I am my child's advocate, but you have to maintain credibility at the same time. It's really a fine line that makes parenting an infant pretty tough some days.

I am happy to report that Matt's actual pediatrician made me feel much better and his ear pulling and runny nose really do have to do with his teeth coming in. Score 1 point for mommy being right. In the meantime, a little Motrin at night will help with the pain, and I'll continue to let my mommy instincts dictate when it's right to call the doctor with concern and when it is nothing.

Matthew's first haircut

Everyone tells you how quickly time goes when you have a baby, but you don't appreciate it until you are living it. In the beginning, I couldn't wait until Matthew started cooing and laughing, and it wasn't too long before he started to smile at me and get a little personality. Then, time went on and I couldn't wait for him to roll over, again, it wasn't too long before he started rolling all over the place and then army crawling to his destinations. Now, I want to go back to a time when he would lay contently in my arms for hours on end.

On Saturday, Matthew woke up with his unruly long hair in his eyes, and I knew it was time to bite the bullet and get him a haircut. So on a whim, Eric and I got dressed and ready to go and off we went to Great Clips right around the corner from our house. Not sure how Matthew would react, I sat him in my lap, and much to my surprise, he was perfect. He smiled and flirted with the stylist and he even closed his eyes in contentment while she combed and clipped his hair. He seemed to really enjoy being pampered. She then saved a few clippings, put them in an envelope and sent us on our way.

Another first has come and gone, and in many ways it makes me nostalgic for his newborn days when I was nursing round the clock and completing my daily chores in a zombiesque manner. I can't believe how quickly time has passed. Time felt as if it stood still while we were trying to get pregnant and even during my pregnancy, but now it's as if I blink and another day has come and gone. On Saturday, Matthew will turn 8 months old! It doesn't seem possible.

He still has just two teeth, but it looks as though four more are trying to make their way to the surface. He's army crawling all over the place. He adores Marley, and most of the time, Marley adores Matthew. He is saying Mama - his first word, and Dada, which he said minutes after his first hair cut. He loves to play in his walker and chase Marley around. They play the cutest game, too. Matt will go one way and Marley will go the other and then meet in the kitchen. They play this game over and over, and it is music to my ears to hear that little guy laugh and giggle. Also, he is so proud of himself when he walks around the room holding just your fingers for support. He is growing bigger and stronger every day, and it just melts my heart to see him play with his doggie, and on Thursdays with his cousins. It's amazing that these budding friendships are already beginning to form. 

Infertility Awareness Week

As I sit here looking at my now 7 month old baby boy, watching him play and laugh, I think back to a time not too long ago when I was desperate to be a mother.

I remember sitting at my grandfather's funeral, which will be 3 years ago this upcoming week, and thinking I am ready to be a mother. I am ready to stop putting myself first and I am ready, willing and able to focus on bringing a new life into this world. I couldn't wait to be a parent to a tiny human being with a main goal of raising him or her to be a good and happy person who will hopefully be a lot like the man that we were burying that day.

I thought it'd be easy; that we would do what we were supposed to do, and I'd get pregnant. It seemed easy enough, but then a few months went by and nothing happened. So I did a little research and started temping to time ovulation. A few more months went by and still nothing. Maybe we were doing it wrong? We'll try a little longer. After a full year of disappointment, I went to my doctor. She referred me to a reproductive endocrinologist, who ran blood work and other tests and determined that I needed a little help from a fertility drug called Femara.

So, in April 2012, I started a drug protocol that would allow me to time ovulation perfectly and then the doctor would help us with fertilization. I was excited, because this was the ticket I needed to get my baby. I was wrong... again.

However, it was also around that time that I sought support from the Baby Center Community, which is an online blogging site for women who are either pregnant, trying to conceive or already mothers. I found a group of women - My Warriors - who have been a huge support for me. Over the last two and a half years, we have laughed, cried, celebrated and cheered each other on through this rollercoaster of a process.

They were there for me when I had a chemical pregnancy in August of 2012, when I needed to start "shooting up" with Bravelle - a different, more potent fertility drug, and then they were there for me through a Laparoscopy surgery that went horribly wrong. It was to be an outpatient procedure that landed me 3 days in a hospital bed and two weeks hooked up to a catheter. Maybe TTC wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. Maybe I wasn't meant to be a mother. I was devastated. 

After the surgery from hell, I decided I needed a break. I couldn't go back to the RE until I had healed not only my body, but my mind and my soul. I convinced the people in my every day life that I wasn't so focused on TTC any more - after all, "I just needed to relax." That is so much easier said than done my friends. If you haven't walked a mile in a woman trying to conceives' shoes, please don't tell her to relax and that it will happen. It's not always that easy. You physically and mentally can not relax when you are visiting the doctor every other day for the first half of your cycle. TTC is always on our mind. Even during my break, it was there. And on the second month of that break, I was shocked and elated to find out that my prayers had finally been answered. 

On January 11, 2013, I got a positive pregnancy test. I called my RE the next morning and got an emergency blood test to confirm that I was indeed pregnant and that it wasn't another chemical pregnancy. Another two days after that, my beta levels were rising as they should and I breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Then at 5 weeks, 3 days, I saw this beautiful little sac that would grow to be my beautiful baby boy. Another week after that, we saw his little heart beat. Each milestone in my pregnancy was a triumphant victory. I was finally going to be a mom, and on September 24, 2013 we welcomed Matthew into our home and our lives and all of the heartache and troubles I had went away. I stare at this baby boy and my heart wants to explode. With each breathe I take I love him a little bit more. 

For the women still trying to conceive, I pray that your time will come when the heart ache and pain of TTC goes away and just seems like a distant memory. 

For those who know someone struggling with infertility, there is nothing you can say to make them feel better. Just be there for them and listen to them vent. Don't take their disappointment when a friend announces her pregnancy personally. It's not that an infertile isn't happy for the other person, it's that she is longing for that take home baby herself. 

This is infertility awareness week. For my warriors still trying BELIEVE!

Six months already!

Today, my Matty Luke turns 6 months old. Where has the time gone? It feels like yesterday that Eric and I were anxiously awaiting his arrival,  and it feels like yesterday that we could hardly sleep, counting down the minutes until we could call the hospital at 5 a.m. to see what time we could come in and start the pitocin. (I had to be induced because of pre-eclamsia symptoms).

Matthew was born on his due date, Sept. 24, 2013, at 3:22 p.m. The laboring process is kind of a blur, but I do remember going from mild contractions to holy crap I'm gonna die contractions in about 20 minutes. I remember setting a deadline of 3:30 p.m. to push him out. I even bet the nurse and midwife that I could do it. I do admit that at 8 a.m. I said I would have him by 2 p.m., but we adjusted it to 3:30 after a complication that made us have to slow things down a little - we needed Matty's heart rate to regulate and mommy to stop having blurred vision. We made it though, and when Eric told me that he was a boy, I couldn't believe that I had a son. I'll admit my first thought was "Yes, I was right again" since I said boy from the minute we found out we were pregnant, and Eric thought for sure he was a girl. But, in that moment, I couldn't imagine the love I would have for this little boy. It's overwhelming at times.

Matthew came into this world pretty calm. He cried for a few seconds but calmed right down when the doctor laid him on my chest. Six months on the outside and he's still a pretty calm baby who relaxes as soon as he gets into my arms. We truly do have a bond that I hope never gets broken. I hope as he grows, he always knows, and never doubts, that I love him with every ounce of my being, and that I will always be there to support him.

At birth, Matthew was 7 lbs 10 oz and 19 3/4 inches long. Today, at six months old, he's roughly 16 lbs and 26 inches long. He has two teeth and is working on a third - all on the bottom. He's a rolling machine, is attempting to scoot/crawl, and walks/runs when you put him on the floor and hold him up by your fingers. He babbles, but isn't saying any words yet. He's pensive and looks as though he's taking everything in, observing what everyone else around him is doing.

Matthew loves Marley and thinks she is the funniest thing in the world. He laughs at her when she barks and runs around the house like a mad puppy. When Marley comes and lays next to him the first thing he goes for is her eyebrows and/or beard. Marley just lets him.

He loves to be sung to and jump in his exersaucer, and he is starting to reach out to people when he wants to be picked up, and although he isn't the best eater when it comes to solid foods, he does love green beans.

He's growing up too quickly, but at the same time, it feels as if he's always been a part of my world. Matthew Lucas I love you forever and always.