Sleep Deprived Saturday

I am sleep deprived.

Thanks to my super son John who is 8 months old today, I am sleep deprived.

For the last two weeks, like clock work, he has been waking up at 3:00 in the morning. Something goes off in his little baby brain that says, time to wake up mommy, mommy who is enjoying her sleep, mommy who is exhausted from being up with me in the wee early mornings before. And every day at 3:00 when my alarm (the baby) goes off, I look over at the clock, the real clock and curse it. Then I look over at my alarm clock, who has now pulled to a stand in the crib and is starring at me with the droopy, sleepy baby eyes and I try to talk some sense into this little being. This little being who has decided that testing his lungs and moaning and groaning for my attention, at 3 in the morning has become his new ritual.

"Don't you know it's 3:00 in the morning?" I say.
And he looks at me, pouts and stares with those pick-me-up eyes.
"Mommy loves you but its time to go back to sleep. I'm tired. You look tired. We can play in the morning."

I speak to him calmly and quietly like he is understanding me. Hoping my every word will soothe him back to sleep. I gently lay him back down, rub his back and then I turn over, hoping if he doesn't see my face, he will calm down. I cross my fingers and toes. I barely breathe. And I hold still in quiet desperation praying that he will fall back asleep.

Yes, he is still in our room.

The bassinet that you use to put your new baby in and keep him close to you at night, to make him easier to feed and to make sure he is okay, breathing and to calm all the other paranoia's of having a newborn baby, has now become a full size crib. My son has had a lot of trouble with severe reflux which finally seems, through medication, to be under control, but we still have him in our room. Waking up startled, more times than we can remember as we rushed to the bassinet as John was choking and gasping for air from reflux, can leave you slightly terrified to let him sleep alone in his room. So his room awaits, a little longer.

Baby on a mission, 3:00am play time.

John's sleeping through the night, has become waking up at this witching hour. Sometimes hungry and most of the times ready to play. At first, I try and ignore him hoping he will realize there is nothing going on, no big brother to watch and no big sister to laugh at, and fall back asleep. This works some times, but most of the times his unsettled whimpers become screams of desperation for attention and I sleepily take him out of bed to avoid waking up the kids and my husband who could sleep through a tornado, a fire and evidently crying babies.

In my sleep dazed state, I drag myself downstairs for some quality time, in the wee hours of the morning, that my infant son evidently feels we need. I feed him a bottle and he smiles. I try to rock him to sleep and his twists, turns, smiles and motions to get off my lap to explore, to crawl, to play and smiles and sticks out his tongue.

While he decides to get up and play, and feels like he is missing something, my sleep awaits, dreams of laying my head on my soft pillow and drifting off to meet the sand man, wait. I know this stage of sleep deprivation doesn't last forever. But trust me, I won't miss it when its gone.

Here's to another sleep deprived Saturday!

Are you a sleep deprived mom? Leave your comment below and a link to your blog, all sleep deprived moms unite!

And we wait

When we found out we were pregnant with our third baby, I somehow felt we were testing our limits. Even though, I felt this baby would complete our family,we'd had 2 healthy children and 2 great pregnancies, I was sure we were testing our luck.
I'd gone to appointments with worry that spiked high blood pressure and held my breath until the heart beat was heard every time. And I'd sat through ultra-sounds with fingers and toes crossed. I didn't want much. The babies sex didn't matter, although I knew my tomboy of a princess Sophia would be completely challenged if it turned out to be another girl, competing for daddy's attention. So when it turned out to be a boy and a happy one at that, I'd felt like I cheated life's tendencies to throw you loops and turns once again and that someone must be looking down upon me. And then John's brief stint in the NICU and his daily struggle with reflux, DGE and the numerous tests he's have been through made me feel like maybe I was wrong.

Like I said before, I know there are worse things then reflux but nothing is worse than worrying about a child, waiting for a test result and looking for answers you're not even sure you are going to get.

His latest test, an Upper Endoscopy, took place Friday morning at CHOP after the Dr. moved up our previous scheduled date, probably hoping she could get answers too. And John handled it way beyond his 5 months. Taking it in like a champ, even my husband and I were shocked at his bravery. As the staff nurses entered the room to see this happy, toothless, smiling wonder, he flirted with them one by one, throwing chubby faced drooling smiles in their direction. He took needles like he'd had them hundreds of times before, no flinch, no wince, not even a look in the other direction to see what had happened, he just kept chewing on his Binky, smiling away.
And in the procedure room, as I held him and the meds took effect, he just dozed off, into his drunken state, comfortable, stable and trusting of what was going on around him.
More confident then I, the one who carried him into the procedure and signed the consent for for the doctors to sedate his little body to go poking around for answers.
More confident then I, who at the last minute, as the doctor dimmed the lights, and the team of nurses took their place and my husband stood by my side, doubted, in my quest to find out what irritability had been plagueing him, for a quick glimmer that I'd made the right choice.

And now we wait.

As the doctor returned to the room, he mentioned he noticed the small intestine seemed very pale in color, but the biopsy would tell us more. What does that mean? What is that? Anything? Something? My mind goes wild with thoughts, conclusions and diagnosis and my fingers go free on my keyboard as I search the Internet looking for answers that I don't find. And my thoughts dissect the doctors every word and expression.

And we wait.

And I watch my bouncing baby boy smile, grow and develop. He now sits confidently, he's found his fingers and recognizes his name. He shakes his head, smiles when I enter the room and makes my heart melt every time.

And we wait.

Maybe we wait for something that isn't there.

Tipping the Scales.

I remember going to my first appointment after finding out I was pregnant with our 3rd baby, I was ecstatic. As I sat down with the maternity nurse, she went through the usual questions, questions I had been asked before, so I felt like a pro.

And then she got to age, "35", she said.

"No, I'm only 34", I corrected her. "Yes, but you will be 35 at the time of birth", she said as she wrote 35 in large red ink at the top of my folder.

Was that necessary?

Then she continued, " 35 is considered Advanced Maternal Age".
What? I thought to myself, I'm in my prime!

Then we procceededto the scales, "154" she responded. At 5'9 I didn't think that was bad, I had about 5 lbs extra but not bad, or so I thought. And then she commented, "You are 7 lbs more than when you got conceived with your other children".
What? I know this but, you have to tell me? It's not like I'm overweight. And as that festered inside of me like a bomb ready to go off, just to add gas to the flames, she proceeded to take my blood pressure.

"Oh and your blood pressure is a little elevated. Not bad but unusual of you, an athlete."
Excuse me, I should have said to her, you just told me I was old and fat...what do you expect!

Now, after having that 3rd baby, I thought I was in my prime for.....I get it.

That 3rd baby baby weight is a bitch to lose, excuse the frankness.
But that's where, at least for me, being 35 has come into effect.

Attention given to women like the Octomom, who claims she didn't have plastic surgery...yeah right, and Heidi Klum don't make it any better. Neither does all the press about celebrities over the age of 35, even over the age of 40 having babies, multiple babies and dropping the weight right after the baby pops out.
Not that I'd expect that to happen to me, but come on.

Maybe it's a habit I acquired from being an athlete, but I pride myself on being fit and tone.I love working out and nothing better to fuel that then a weight loss challenge, but I've never met cellulite so stubborn.

2 months after I had the baby, my daughter asked me if there was another baby in my belly.

3 months after I had the baby, I swear I still looked 3 months pregnant and had cellulite in places I didn't even know it existed.

And to make it worse, last month the school nurse at George's school asked me when I was due!! Seriously! I know maybe the shirt, a striped empire waist shirt, probably didn't do much for a post baby pouch, but still.

So now, 5 months post-partum, the weight is starting to budge and my stomach and hips are finally communicating with the rest of my body, that the pregnancy is over!

With the hlep of my husband, I've just accepted to love the size I am now. And keep jumping, running, and exercising and some day, hopefully by October, (I have an event I have to go to that I refuse to take extra poundage to!) I'll be back to my pre-pregnancy size.

Besides, what do they say, "9 months to put it on, 9 months to take it off".
It must have been a man to say that....easier said than done

Reflux by any other name.......

" Mommy! John puked up again!"



This is a call my 3 year old daughter Sophia makes multiple times on as daily basis.



While my other children had no problems with their stomach, except for having trouble finding the right formula for Sophia, John's first 5 months have been plagued with challenges. Even though he is generally a very happy baby, bouts of Reflux can make his face red, his back straighten in pain and give several hours at a time of him being downright miserable. If he's not spitting up or projectile vomiting, he is dealing with this "chronic reflux cough". And it didn't matter what he was being fed, breast milk, regular formula, lactose free, whatever kind, it all came up one way or another. He takes Zantac, Prevacid and multiple doses of Maalox on a daily basis. He also drinks formula, thicken to resemble a milkshake, just to keep it down.

This isn't a problem that slowly developed or revealed itself. It's been since his first feeding day one. I remember my husband running to the side of the in-hospital crib thinking that John wasn't breathing and there he was, started to choke on his vomit. Within 12 hours after his birth, we were informed by the pediatrician on staff that John was to be transferred by ambulance to CHOP on suspicion on having a blocked or twisted intestine. I remember the doctor assuring me that I would be able to see him before he left, only I had no idea it was looking through the mobile incubator surrounded by the CHOP critical care team. Luckily his 5 day stint in the NICU found no serious issues. But unfortunately, the stomach problems didn't stop there and still continue today.

We have seen doctors whom we love and are great at CHOP but they all want to wait it out and see. It's so hard as a parent, when you see your child suffering and not improving, to wait it out and see. Finally, he has a MILK scan on Friday so we are hoping to get some answers as to what is going on and giving him trouble.

But believe me, I know it could be a lot worse. We could have a child with serious issues and when it comes down to it, reflux is bothersome yes, but deadly, no. I remember sitting in the NICU with my husband looking around at the babies there. Some seemed they had been there for months, their cubicles decorated with pictures and toys from home, the metal hospital crib replaced by a nice wooden one with soft bedding. I remember seeing the look on the parents faces. We'd met one couple, the woman had trouble conceiving and had experienced multiple failed pregnancies. Finally, after 6 miscarriages and many times at IVF, she gives birth to a beautiful baby girl, only to end up with her in the NICU and not much chance he would be coming home soon.

Ironically, her baby girl happened to be born the same day as John.

And I will never forget the look on her face as she stood crib side, unable to hold her newborn as I gripped mine extra tightly for fear of ever experiencing that emotion.

I will also never forget passing her, on the way out of the hospital, finally taking John home. She was surrounded by family, sitting on a bench just across the way from the elevators.

They had seemed to be consoling her.

But in her moment of grief, she looked up and asked "Baby John gets to go home today?"

Yes, I replied feeling almost guilty that I was leaving with my child while she was still there with hers.

"Way to go baby John!" she replied.....and smiled.

I will never forget her or the look on her face as she took time out from her grief to congratulate John leaving the NICU.

I just hope she is home right now, holding her baby.

My life in Jenga

Since the birth of our 3rd beautiful child back in November, I'm finding more and more that motherhood is a lot like the game Jenga. Sometimes on the edge of your seat fun, lots of on the edge of you seat smiles and laughter, but more often you are on the edge of your seat waiting for disaster, that situation that will test your patience or challenge your instincts. Motherhood, and it's ups and downs testing your emotional stability, is a ride like no other. And with one wrong move the entire somewhat stable stack can come crashing down: my 3 year old beautiful but ever so independent little girl Sophia, testing her limits...and mine,my 5 year old energetic very smart son George, having a breakdown because he can't find his favorite train or our newborn son, John, a very happy baby, having a miserable spell from severe reflux that has pegged him since birth. These can happen separately or more often, as you know, all together.
Staying home with the kids is everything like I imagined and nothing like I imagined. I enjoy being here seeing them grow, watching the develop into their own being and sure, I expected challenges but I never expected the challenge to be how I handled the day and how I handled the emotional ride. In the workforce, our worth as employees was immediate and easily seen. Did I meet sales ? Did I get a raise or a good review from the boss? Something like that. But as mothers the reward really has to come from within and often that is hard to find. I am finding that holding it together, whether talking about my sanity or the day, has become like a circus act. And that I have to find the time to find myself and free myself from the unpredictability that having 3 kids under the age of 6 often comes with. I have to find time to relax and breathe. It's easy to take their emotions as your own, but the challenge to keep yourself together, heading in the right direction and with both feet on the ground is often the thing I struggle with the most.
My dad often says that any day you wake up and can put your feet on the ground it's a great day. And I often add to that, any day you can wake up, get your workout in and coffee in peace is an even better one. And any day, you can avoid a disaster is the best. Join me on my honest, no frills journey into the depths of motherhood and beyond.