A Feeder and a Grower

Well, we can do pigtails now.

I probably could have done this to her hair before now even.  Shoot, she wasn't too far off from pig tails at birth.

Gah, it's so hard to believe that this is even the same baby.  The top pic is from today, and she's basically nine months now.  The next pic is when she was probably just a couple weeks old.  All that separates these is about 8.5 months.  She's more than quadrupled her birth weight (3.9lbs), and she's just SO different.  Also, I do believe that I have cycled back around to where the little baby pictures make me cry again.  She was just so small and skinny.  Broke my heart.  That's actually a decent segue to the next part of her birth story:

If you'll recall I had Maddie at 5pm on a Sunday evening.  After she was taken to the NICU, I didn't see her again that day.  The next morning I was groggy from post-surgery sleep (though I never got any of the good American post-op drugs).  I don't remember breakfast or anything else until my little nurses appeared late morning.  I just remember that they showed up with shower supplies - towels, soap, etc and motioned toward the bathroom, meaning I was going to get up and take a shower.  I remember realizing what they were telling me and told them "Noooo."  And they told me "Siiiiii."  It was surreal.  I did not want to deal with...perhaps more than just the stitches holding my guts in.  But I got out of bed with their help and shuffled into the bathroom where I stood in a shower as my two little nurses bathed me.

I remember how I didn't want to look down at my belly (where my baby was still supposed to be) and I didn't want to see the stitches.  I stood there, weak and a mess, and let these girls wash me.  They were very gentle.  We didn't speak the same language, but there seemed to be an unspoken understanding...that I'd just been through something horrific, and that they were the ones that were gently getting me up and in a forward direction.  Damn it.  The words are not coming out right.  I can't explain.  Because of course they were taking care of me; they were my nurses.  It was something more than that, though.  I'll never forget it.  They were very nice to me, and I, not used to being quite so vulnerable, deeply needed and appreciated their care. 

At some point after the shower, I went down to the NICU to see Maddie.  Honestly, I was half dreading it.  On the one hand, I felt guilty that I had not seen her since the day before, and yet on the other hand, I didn't want to see her because I felt so guilty that she was premature.  I did not want to see her all hooked up to machines.  But I did.  And it was about as hard to see her as I'd imagined.  I stood over her and cried as I touched her tiny body.  I didn't know what to say to her, and it still felt weird telling her that I loved her, even though if she hadn't made it, I probably would have died.  A lot of confusion and confliction.  Grateful that she was alive, yet so, so guilty that I could not have taken care of her better.  Instead, she had to have machines do what my body could not.  Sigh. 

I'll write more about our post-birth week in Mexico later.  For now, though, I'll return to my original point: babies grow so fast, even the tiny ones.  I do better now to take Maddie in as we're playing together.  I think that's easier to do when they get older and have more personality...and do more than sleep, cry, eat, poop.  You can get lost in that.  But when they're a little older, you can be in the moment a bit more.  Ironically, it's that pause that gives you time to reflect back on how much things have changed.  Lately, I have frequently cupped Maddie's sweet face in my hands and told her that she's never going to be a tiny baby again, followed immediately by a peppering of kisses.  Of course she just gives me a big wrinkle-nosed smile and keeps playing with her toys.  We just want them to grow so quickly and meet (conquer!) their milestones, and in Maddie's case she really needed to, as she was behind and at an unhealthy weight.  Now, though, I'm cool if we just hang for a bit.  It has gone by so quickly.  Too quickly.  I desperately love this child, and I want her to be my sweet baby for as long as possible.

Ode to Joe

Like "Ode to Joy" but not.  Get it.  Right-o. 

So today is Joe's birthday, and I thought it'd be a nice time to publicly announce the ways in which he's pretty great.  Do note that is not my typical sort of blog.  I'm never very lovey dovey, but in light of recent events to include one of his friends thinking our marriage was in the crapper along with his own (so much so that he told Joe, "I'll get a divorce if you do"), I figure I'll be public about a few things just this once:

As soon as he gets home, he takes the baby.  Without being asked to.  He plays with her (or depending on her mood, deals with her) until it's time to get her ready for bed, which he does (I help some here and there), and every night he gives her the final bottle and puts her to bed.  It's glorious.  Further, on the weekends, he gets up somewhere between 6 and 8am (any time after 4am is sleeping in for him), and he quietly leaves the bedroom and takes the monitor.  He gets Maddie when she wakes up and changes and feeds her, leaving me to sleep in.  Every.weekend.  If I'm especially haggard, he will sleep in the guest room with the monitor at night so that I can get better sleep.  He will do this even on a week night when he has to be up early.  It.is.awesome.    

Those are just a few things, and they all revolve around Maddie, as it should be since Maddie is our life now.  He still irritates me a lot with some things, but his life has definitely changed along with mine in light of having a baby.  It's nice that we've both had to make changes and have essentially grown and changed together (not apart).  I love the way he is a husband to me and a father to our girl.  It's a wonderful experience.  Love him.  

PS.  He cleans the coffee pot out for me in the mornings before he goes to work, and on the weekends he makes breakfast...some kind of egg treat or waffles from scratch.  Although the waffles are going to change now that we're doing some paleo crap.  I'll blog about that next. 

And Purge

Everything was pretty cool until about 2pm today.  That's when Maddie started her afternoon "whine and moan."  Aggghhh.  We're having teething and constipation issues this week, which is about to make me come undone.  The week started strong, and I was supermom-ing it.  By that, I mean I did normal person stuff by cleaning my months (and months and months) old dirty master bathroom and folded laundry.  Yeah, today, nothing got done. 

We've also been dog-sitting for about two weeks.  The dog is a sweet dog, and individually I like her, but in a group with my dogs, I do not, nor do I like my own dogs in said group.  Things sort of reached a head last night when Dexter attacked her.  Uggh.  He didn't break any skin, but he somehow still latched on with a good grip.  It was all of about five seconds, but afterward me and the other dog were both shaking.  Gah.  So she got rotated to another family today (her owners are with their kiddo in the hospital...), which was going to happen anyway prior to my mother's visit come Monday.  (Woot.)

Let's see...  I've covered cranky baby and extra dog.  What else?  How about Joe's job and upcoming separation from the Army?!  Yeah.  About that.  Let's just say there's some reconciling going on.  Joe's been applying for a ton of civilian jobs, some will probably work out, others not.  None are really want he wants to do, though, nor will they build is resume in that direction.  With that, staying put in the Army would probably be the best thing for him, but alas we missed the re-enlistment date.  Double alas, the head dude of our tiny little corner of the Army has said Joe can have a waiver (which Joe and I discussed previously and decided was a good idea to try for)...but something about needing him as a rigger.  By the way, Joe called me with this news about five hours after he was supposed to already be home from work while Maddie was still whining and moaning, refusing to eat or take meds, AND while I was trying to load the other dog up to take elsewhere.  So naturally I started crying at the word "rigger"....and screaming....and threw my phone against the kitchen counter, bouncing it on to the floor.  Still works too.

After a further dialogue with Joe about the whole rigger thing, I do feel better.  The bottom line is that head dude said yes, and now we will continue to negotiate the terms.  Thankfully Joe is not a shit bag, and has a team of people pushing for him to be able to re-enlist and do what he wants (which I will not write about here).  However, if he has to be a rigger for a year and then re-class, it really wouldn't be the worst thing.  I should say that I think riggers are VERY, VERY important....they are the folks that pack the parachutes...the ones my husband wears when he jumps out of the planes...the ones that save his life.  HUGELY IMPORTANT.  Just not exactly what Joe's been working toward, ya know?  Of course, it could be explained on his resume that this is what was needed at the time...duty to country...will perform whatever task enhances the mission...blah blah blah.

So there.  No one really knows that we were going to go ahead and seek a waiver, and definitely no one knows that it has so far been approved (verbally...nothing in writing).  So uh, surprise!  I guess nothing is definite yet, as the head dude may not agree to any other terms or just pull the whole deal off the table to boot.  But we'll see.  Pretty flipping stressful.  Really, I want my husband to be recognized for his capabilities and viewed as an asset for what he has been trained in as well as for his character.  We've watched so man other folks be rewarded for bad behavior.  I just wish Joe could be rewarded for a job well done.  Seriously.  And I guess the reward is really in having a network of people helping you out, as is the case currently.  Hopefully it ends with him getting the job/terms that he wants....and that I, his lovely wife, feel he deserves.

Yeah, that's all.  No biggie, right?

Be Trippin'

It's 5:19PM as I'm beginning to write this.  Maddie is beside me pawing the side of the coffee table and has just slipped underneath it and is crying.  I'm on the floor with her, blogging from her blanket.  I've reached that point in the afternoon where I no longer know what to do with her.  We've read, exersauced, eaten, napped, practiced sitting up, played with rattles and stuffed animals and remotes and Joe's xbox headset.  Sometimes at this time of day I call Dexter over and make him lay near us so she can grab his fur.  This keeps her busy, and she doesn't seem to mind. 

Now's she's up against the couch, scratching the side of it.  She keeps flipping on to her stomach and then pushing all the way up, arms fully extended, rocking back and forth on her knees.  I've read this is the precursor to crawling, but it really looks like she's humping the ground.  Yeah, I said it.  Also, she learned how to growl from her father, so she's doing some of that.  Annnnd, there's a puke mark on her back from where she rolled in her vomit earlier.  I've cleaned it up and wiped her down, but there's no use putting a new outfit on now when PJs and bedtime are 1.5 hours away. 

Joe should be home now.  A duty day is technically over at 5 plus the half hour drive home = now, 5:30PM.  But I didn't get his text until I was in my first paragraph here saying that he was on his way home.  Blarg.  I'm ready to tap out.  Of the eleven days prior to today, I was only home alone with Maddie for three of them.  Yes, we had two four-day weekends in a row.  It was tremendous. 

So yes, here we are.  Maddie is doing acrobatic moves around the living room, rolling and rotating on her belly, backwards scooting, and ground-humping.  I'm sitting her typing, stuffing my face with popcorn every few seconds and listening for the garage door to open as I contemplate what is for dinner.  Okay, time to go outside and get Mama Dexter for some assistance....