Pansyiana: October 2006 Archives

My midwives came over. It was a good visit because it cleared up some areas of concern for me. First of all, my first few pregnancies seemed to have been pre-term. My daughter was born at 36 weeks (8 lb, 20"), my next son at 37 weeks (7 lb 2 oz, 20"), my next son at 38 weeks (8 lb 3 oz, 21 "). The next two were at 38 weeks (8 lb 15 oz, 23") and 40+ weeks (8 lb 6 oz, 21"), not preterm. I noted that the interesting fact with the last two is that I learned NFP by then and was charting. When I started charting, the doctors were always off by nearly a month early because they never had exact dates, just that stupid wheel thingy. So it looks like I may never have had a problem with preterm labor in the past, therefore it might not be a concern. (I cannot have a homebirth if I go into labor prior to 37 weeks, so I am hoping for a term delivery).

The other thing we cleared up is probably why I am feeling so crappy-lack of sleep. I said I feel achey everyday like I had a big work-out the day before. They asked me if I'm sleeping well, the answer to which is "no". I get up to go to the bathroom, and after the second time, I wander around for a few hours and go back to bed. They said that would do it. Isn't it funny how the simplest answers elude you until another party points out the obvious?

We talked about other fun stuff like another waterbirth, if the kids should be there, if my husband will have to clean up the mess, and all that good stuff. They also said I had a "beautiful" belly which I thought was a nice compliment because I have only heard people say that on "Runway Moms".

I am getting very excited about the birth of this new baby.

Posco and RoseyPosey were walking down the street by the gas station. For whatever reason, Posco had fallen behind a bit and ran to catch up with her. Two kids, one about 8 and one about 14 yelled out to Posco "Punk Ass White Boy!" and the ran away...of course.

My son nor daughter were not that perturbed.This is not the first time this happened. My husband was livid though! The funny thing, to quote my mother directly, is if you know Posco, the "Punk ass" part is farthest from the truth. Posco of course doesn't see the insult in the second part he said, because he is after all part white...Maybe they were just trying to impress everyone with their anthropological prowess?

My husband went looking for them, I guess to have a word with them. I don't think Posco would have told us except RoseyPosey mentioned it: "Oh, Posco, you need to stop leaving the house. Everytime you go outside..." Upon hearing that my husband wanted to establish a sense that where his kids are, he is a step behind (I think he was frustrated that that has not yet been established).

To quote a wise woman "I hate ethnic neighborhoods."

I asked my neighbor, and she said the baby is doing well now. They had to transfer him from st. mary's to Albany Med. I asked if he had any brain damage and she said no. She didn't know what was wrong with him though.

Today started off minorly non-routine. I had not been feeling well for a few days. I have been having lots of pressure and a few other symptoms that may or may not be indicative or preterm labor. I have had preterm labor before, but not with the last two babies. While I doubted I was dilating, I prefer to run the symptoms by my doctor to be on the safe side. If it is nothing, good. If it is something, better be in the doctor's care.

The doctor checked me out and I got a clean bill of health. He stated that the pressure is do to being a grand multi para. I was like "wow, I have arrived. I get a 'grand' title."

So the day went on. Around three something, four something PM, my husband took the kids to the library, and the house was nice and quiet. I logged on to do some school work. My brother was very bored today because he had off from school due to Yom Kippur, so everytime I logged on he IMed me. The latest information was about how he could not find a comic book store anywhere in Buffalo. As he was typing, I heard screaming out side. Screaming is not unusual; there are lots of children in the neighborhood and the day was lovely. Around the second time it occured to me it was a genuine "terror" scream as opposed to a "now you're it" scream. I looked out the door and saw people congregating in the street at the corner. My heart stopped as I thought a child might have gotten hit by a car. I almost didn't want to go see what happened out of fear.

I ran back inside, put my clogs on and grabbed my cordless phone. as I got out, I saw my next door neighbor running out outside on the phone. I asked her "are you calling 911?"
"Yes"

I went to the street and there was a lady cradling a little, tiny baby screaming "Please! Breathe! Breathe! Oh God, please!" The baby was blue.

The Lady Next Door started telling the mother "breathe in the babies face" and the mother started to. Other people started rubbing the baby's chest. I said, "you need to do compressions".

They turned and looked at me and asked if I knew what to do.

I took the baby, put the baby on the back hood and started to do Infant CPR on the baby. That poor little baby was so perfect, sweet smelling...and so blue. The mother was absolutely hysterical.

The baby started to moan a bit, and take breaths. Someone next to me said the baby was breathing, and opened up the clothes around the child's neck to see if his chest was going up and down. It started to. He pinked up just a tiny bit, but was still so blue. I started to panic inside that my efforts were futile and asked if the paramedics were coming. The Lady Next Door assured me "yes".

The paramedics did come and they took the baby's pulse with a grim reaction. They asked me "what is the bay's medical history?"
"I don't know, I'm not the mother. The mother is right here."

The mother was a puddle on the ground. I felt nearly as hysterical on the inside as she was on the outside. I guided her towards the paramedics, and they all got into the fire trucks and ambulances and drove off.

I hope that baby is OK. I hope he without oxygen for too long so he was able to make a full recovery. He is only 5 days old.

The Lady Next Door recapped the story about 3xs by the time I went inside, and the story went about how she called 911, and remembered someone needed to blow on the baby.

For my own selfish reasons, I hope someone remembers I was the lady who did CPR so they will find me and tell me how the baby made out.

About a year and a half ago, my husband, ahem lost his job. Not too long after that my brother left to join the Marines. He worked at a small, local diner for years as the weekend dishwasher. When he left, John the Proprietor was out of a dishwasher. My family needed a few bucks, so I took the job over.

The Voorheesville Diner, located in Voorheesville, NY next to the railroad tracks. It is a little county diner where the patrons come everyday, sit and drink cup after cup of John's coffee, and talk about important local news like the opening of deer season, the weather, purchasing land in various areas and of course gossip. It is filled with the same characters. The old guy who hits on the waitresses. The guy who comes in animated to protest the latest Bush-crime from his political view. The lady who reads palms and gets her info all wrong. The younger guy who brings his young children in for attention. The food is awesome.

I started working there about a year ago. The work is really labor intensive, and was downright horrible in the summer. But at first I enjoyed going because the stress was easy to deal with-just do the dishes. If I fell behind, my home was not in a horrible condition, the kids did not miss a lesson for a day which left me with sleepless nights imagining them to become drug dealers do to poor reading skills, nor did I have to worry about dreaded meal planning-for the moment. I just washed dishes, listened to the latest local 'news" and acquired a taste for country music. I also had a connection to my brother as this was his family away from home-whom I miss terribly.

In March I got pregnant (surprise!-yawn). I worked doing dishes through horrible morning sickness and hypoglycemia. Lately, the job has become very much of a chore as I ahve become big and tired. I would come hom and crash until it was time to go in the day day. Every week my husband would ask me to quit because "you don't need to kill yourself" and every week I would say "we'll see". I was worried about money, I was worried John would not be able to find a replacement.

Saturday I went into work and John asked me "So, how much longer do you want to work?"
"I'm not sure, I was kind of playing it by ear."
"Well, I got someone lined up and you can quit at any time."
"You do?"
Sure, so you don't have to worry about that. Just let me know.

So I called my husband and he told me again, he didn't want me killing myself for the job and it was up to me.

"OK, John, I'll give you my notice then. What do you need? Two weeks? Three weeks?"
"This could be your last weekend, Hon'."
"Um, OK"
"Do you want to work tomorrow? You don't have to."
"Um, since you ask, I have a paper due, and I am going to stay home then."

I mentioned to a waitress it was my last day and she said they all have noticed how tired I look. They fully expected that I would not show up to work each week at this point. And they noted I hated Sundays (sorry, I do snap at people on the busy days).

When the day ended, John gave me a big hug and I thanked him for being a good boss to me, to which he replied I was a very good worker.

Sunday morning, I was happy to get to Mass at Auriesville on a more leisurely Sunday morning schedule (you know, after laundry and whatnot), as opposed to trying to cram in the Saturday Evening Vigil...or not. Then I came home laid in the bed and watched Flavor of Love reruns (which I find vile and not sure I can't seem to look away), and the Law and Order:SVU marathon on USA. And that is all I have to do on weekends for now.