Has anybody seen my baby?

He’s been switched somehow. Invasion of the body snatchers! Somehow my sweet cuddly easy going little monkey has been replaced with a doppleganger. An angry, unhappy, little bugger. My baby coos and giggles and claps, this tiny tyrant screams and wails, his head rolls back and he uses my body as a punching bag and when I feed him he uses me as a chew and pull toy. Ouch!

I know the culprit, I know just who is responsible. It’s the evil Teething Monster and he has taken up residence in my baby. So far teething, in our house anyway, is tantamount to (dare I say it) possession. I’m using the teething holy trinity per my doctor’s advice; ice, baby Anbesol and baby Tylenol and they are barely working.

Max’s great Aunt works in a pharmacy in a little town in Ohio. The Pharmacist there inherited it from his father, who inherited it from his father. That family has owned and operated it for over 100 years and on display they have all of these old medicine bottles. He’s a bit of a chatter and he loves to show them off. The last time we were there I was very pregnant and he brought down a big old bottle that said “Morphine, for the treatment of teething babies”.

I kid you not.

He told us they would just rub a little on the gums and the babies would be happy as clams and sleep like,well, not babies but exhausted mommies.

Now, I’m not interested in getting my little bugger on Morphine! You should have seen the panic attack I had the very first time we gave him gas drops. I was certain that I’d overdosed him. Ofcourse I hadn’t and he was just fine, but it’s such an add feeling giving your little one any kind of medicine.

So far one little tooth has made it’s razor sharp way into the world and we are waiting on at least one more. My poor kidlet does not know what to do with himself. Bouncer? Nope. Snuggle? Nope. Nap? Hell no! Kick and wiggle? Not interested. Dora the Explorer? Well…maybe. He loves him some Dora.

I wish I had a magic medicine that would ease his pain without it being morphine. Just the thought that was done both cracks me up and horrifies me (They also had liquid cocaine for women with menstrual ‘issues’ read:pms). I miss my baby, and watching him be so miserable is totally miserable for me. Here’s hoping that new tooth breaks through today and Sweet Baby Max can have a little rest…
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Nine months in. Nine months out.

Only you’re really pregnant for longer than nine months. That’s the sick joke no one tells you till you’re pregnant. You get to nine months, you count the weeks and you think “WTF! I have four more weeks to go???”

Nine months ago today I checked in to St. Joseph’s hospital in beautiful downtown Burbank, CA to have my precious baby! The nine months since he has been born have gone way faster than the nine (ten) I was pregnant for lemme tell ya.
I had a scheduled C-section cause my poor Monkey was stuck kitty corner and jack knifed. It was not an easy section and I had bruising for months afterwards. Totally worth it. 
Everyday is a brilliant discovery with Max. Yesterday out of the blue he started waving anytime anyone says ‘bye bye’. It’s so cute. And a tooth is finally pushing it’s way up through the gum. Each of these milestones fills my heart with pure bliss and yet it’s bittersweet as every day he moves away from babyhood and into toddler hood. My mother in law once told me ‘it’s a good thing we never know when the last time they’ll do something is, otherwise we’d cry every day.’
She’s right. Until last week Max had to be swaddled to sleep, but I started thinking he’s wakin up because he wants to move, so I unswaddled him and he slept so well. I didn’t realize that last morning would be the last morning of our unswaddling tradition. Every morning after hubby goes off to work I bring Max into bed with me for some snuggles and a little extra zzzzz’s. When we wake I unwrap his and say “Free feets! Free feeties!” and he kicks his legs up in the air grabs his toes and giggles.  No more free feets. Sniff. But it’s good, it’s wonderful to see him pushing up on all fours and looking up at me and wiggling his booty. I know in the blink of an eye he’ll be off and crawling. Another blink and he’ll be toddling around the playground. One more and he’ll be driving, and then off to college. 
So happy nine months on the outside, my precious piglet. No language in the entire world could possibly express how much I love you. 

MIlk Machine


 I’ve joined a Mom Bloggers Club (shout out MBC!) and I’m totally overwhelmed trying to figure it out all. I’m not all that tech savvy, and it’s a lot to go through and I’m trying to actually read all the blogs.There are a lot. And a lot of them are fan-friggin-tastic. Funny, witty, sweet, wry and just plain fabulous.  And it occurred to me that all of these women, though they are funny and snarky, they support the hell out of each other! 

I love this, and truly hope to be more a part of that community. Especially when in real life sometimes women aren’t all that supportive. Nothing polarizes us more than our children  and our opinions on what is right in raising them.
I’m a breast feeding mom. (This blog is all about bodily functions isn’t it?) But I never thought I would be. (Stick with me, I’ve got a point.) Breast feeding always freaked me out. Even the name. Breast feeding. Ick. I still prefer ‘nursing’ it’s a bit more civilized. When Zach and I had been dating about 6 months I knew he was the one, he knew I was the one, our parents knew it, everyone knew it! All that was left was for him to pop the dang question, so we arranged a lovely Christmas trip to NYC with our families so his parents could meet my mom and this whole thing could move forward. We had such grand plans for that trip, but it was ridiculously crowded so there was no frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity or ice skating at Rockefeller’s for us. We did get to do the Met, which was awesome. In fact that picture of me talking to the statue just to the right is from that very day! The Egyptian exhibit was especially cool. My mother loves Egypt, growing up we had a whole Egyptian inspired living room. In the fifth grade I did a book report on the Egyptian Book of the Dead (that’s not weird at all right?). For some reason it was smack in the middle of the Egyptian exhibit that my mother in law brought up babies. Did I want them? Would I breast feed them? 
MIL: are you going to nurse?
ME:I don’t know…it kinda freaks me out, my mom didn’t so probably not.
MIL: (steps forward): Stephie you have too. 
ME: (stepping back) I’ll think about it, but ya know some people their milk never even comes in!
MIL: (steps forward) It’s so good for the baby.
Me: (stepping back) I know but…
MIL: (steps forward) you’ll love it, and the bonding with the baby is amazing
etc. etc. etc. until I found myself pinned against a mummy. Honestly, there I was in the middle of the Met smack dab against some ancient Pharaoh’s mummy totally panicking while my mother in law (to be) gave me the what for about nursing! I’d also like to remind you that my mother in law is 4’10”. Legally she should be in a booster chair when she is in a car. She’s little.
When I got pregnant I was still on the fence about it, but Dub who is infinitely cooler than I am and just a little bit more earthy was all for it. So, by about 20 weeks I was ‘thinking about it’. By 30 weeks I was ‘gonna give it a try’. By 35 weeks I was determined to make a go of it for at least two weeks. By 37 weeks I was totally doing it…at least until my mother in law came to visit. My darling friend Wendee sent me her very expensive breast pump which gave Dub and I the giggles. I couldn’t believe anyone would do that to themselves! It’s just so silly! We had no idea.
After my C-section when I finally got to the room and they finally, finally brought me my little one he finalized the decision for me. Little bugger latched right on and hasn’t let up since! And I love it. I will cry a river when he weans, and it will be him that weans cause I want to nurse him until it’s not icky. 
I’ve never understood the formula vs breast milk war. Each mommy has to make the right decision for themselves and their baby. Now that Max is nine months old  he isn’t quite the nurser he was. Now it’s a little sip, sit up, look around maybe talk a little bit, lean back for another little drink. Sit up, look around, lather, rinse, repeat. It’s even more difficult to nurse in public since he hates to be covered.  He’s at that stage where he wants to do things for himself, and that includes stealing your cup and drinking your water. So I dragged it out, that gorgeous pump and subjected myself to what is surely one of the silliest and possibly most humiliating experiences of motherhood. I pumped. Weird, but the freedom! I can wear non easy access shirts!
So Max and I are at the mall (quell surprise!) and Max is chowing down on his pumped milk in a BPA free bottle and this woman hustles up to me and says “You know he should be getting breast milk. Breast is best.”
Uhhh F-you very much lady! I’m standing there, mouth agape trying to decide if I should let her have it or say nothing and she just keeps on going. Now, you’ve seen my piglet, he’s pink and juicy. He’s got rolls, his rolls have rolls. He’s probably got hidden rolls so it’s not like he looked malnourished. She’s going on and on and on about breast milk and finally I get it together enough to say “Not that it’s any of your business but it IS breast milk!” Max looks at her and smiles that melt-your-heart-smile and hiccups. Without missing a beat she says “You know, if you take a little string off your shirt, it has to be a white one, and you roll it up into a little ball and put it on the soft spot of it’s head he’ll stop hiccuping.” Turns on her heel and walks away. 
Max and I look at each other and he gives me this chuckle, as if to say “Consider the source Mommy.”
OK, maybe I didn’t really have a point, but it was a weird exchange. 
And I love that pump.

Things I never thought I would say to anyone of the male persuasion…or anyone really.

Let me smell your butt.

I say it like ten times a day, or ‘scoot over here and gimme a booty sniff’. Usually followed by one of two phrases ‘fresh as a daisy’ or ‘yay! poopies!’ Cause you don’t know joy till your baby poops. You could be in the middle of Church on Sunday and your baby could finally let it go, louder than a truck driver and you would look up at Jesus on the cross and earnestly, with nothing but gratitude in your heart utter “thank you God.” And mean it. Really, truly and more than any other prayer ever. Thank you. Luckily my sister Dub’s baby is 6 days older than Max so she happily accepts the “Max pooped!” texts and responds with “you’re so lucky!” We used to be so fabulous, sending each other invites to parties and making arrangements to attend opening nights at the Geffen or scheduling mani/pedi shopping trips. Now it’s all poop, weight gain (babies), weight loss (us, hopefully),and sleepless nighttime texting. Since she’s in L.A. (jealous) we always text anytime any baby wakes, usually about how long it will take me to get back to LA and how much we miss each other and how we were supposed to be raising our babies together. I mean we started practicing with our Cabbage Patch babies ages ago! Anyway, everything is totally about poop. Especially when you’ve started solids. In the last two weeks Mr. Monkey is just wanting to eat everything in sight! He’s grabbing bread, crackers, pasta anything he can get his little hands on. Which is super exciting but also a little scary because these days they scare the heck outta ya with allergy warnings. Seems unfair to keep stuff from him when he so desperately wants it, so I’m splitting the difference letting him have some things but keeping him from say, the spicy Italian veggie sausage that he wanted. I’m thinking spicy+soy= really upset tummy. It’s so hard to say no to that sweet little face and those chubby monkey hands, but I guess that is truly being a mommy. Saying no when you want to say yes.

Clapping Monkey

My husband and I are actors. Like for real, usually we make a living at it actors. Since the economy has tanked we’ve hit some rough times (see post #1 The Upshot) but at heart, we’re actors. And of course our number one audience member and biggest fan is Max. From the second he smiled his very first gummy smile Zach and I have been jumping over chairs, falling down, making silly noises and faces. Anything for that smile. It’s a drug, addictive. And truly better than the cheers of five thousand strangers. That one little smile…and then one day he laughed! I know…I know…eventually they do that, it’s not miraculous etc. etc. etc. But oh, my, gawd. The lengths we will go to get that laugh. I am a master of Monkey noises and kissy faces and Zach can get a laugh just by saying “scoooooby dooooo!” I’ve spent hours munching on his belly, his toes, his ears in desperate pursuit of that fabulous giggle.

But last night, last night Max busted out with the piece de resistance for actors. Max applauded. It was awesome. Truly awe inspiring. Obviously we all cheered like crazy people, Auntie Kelly, Grandma, Grandpa Zach and me all clapping right back at him. His eyes got wide, Disney baby button eye wide and then he laughed and clapped at the same time!  
Oooooh yeah, baby. Game ON! Today was all about clapping. Max is obsessed with my iphone. He really does ruthlessly delete stuff off of it all the time. He also rearranges my apps. We’ve reached that stage where if he wants something and you take it from him a tantrum ensues. And yeah, it’s the cutest little tantrum you ever did see but still! So today we began using magic. Ya know slight of hand. One minute the iPhone is in Daddy’s hand, the next ooooooooooooooooo nothing! Max responded with squeals of delight and much applause.  
Tomorrow it’s all about applauding and capturing it on film. 
“Gimme that iPhone!”

There are no words…

We’ve had a lot of loss in our online communities lately, more than there should ever be. These last two weeks I’ve mourned the loss of several babies, one I knew before their passing and two that honestly, I only learned of following their deaths. 

I admit it, I read their Mommy’s blogs from beginning to end, weeping while my husband asked me “why on earth are you doing this to yourself?” I couldn’t explain it but I knew that I couldn’t stop. If the mothers of these children could possibly endure the pain of loosing their little ones,
 even for a minute then I needed, for some reason, to share it. I read of premature births, of struggles in the NICU, of weight gained and then lost. Of huge leaps of progress and major milestones met, rejoiced in birthdays and first teeth and birthdays all the wh
ile knowing the end to the story. I laughed through my tears at the funny silly things our little ones do and say. I was thrilled to know that these little ones laughed and loved in their short lives. Every night I add these children to my prayers, and to the far too many I don’t know of who are in the NICU now. Whose mother’s and father’s are hoping and praying and bargaining with God for the survival of their babies. It’s unthinkable. 
But I couldn’t stop reading. The blogs unfurled like a really good book, fraught with obstacles, love, tears and great triumphs.  I don’t regret for a moment the time I spent reading and crying over these stories so beautifully shared and these beautiful lives lost so early. Through the blogs these children were truly alive for me, and while the pain of their loss is not mine to claim I do send their parents all my love and prayers and thank them for bei
ng brave enough to share with us. 
Like many bloggers and tweeters I know and know of, I’m donating money in honor of one little angel. Madeline Alice Spohr, I can’t walk in the March of Dimes walk this weekend, so I’ll just have to write a check.
And now if you’ll excuse me I have to ever so gently lean over Max’s crib so as not to wake him and kiss him and smell his head. Cause seriously, his head smells amazing. 
From the day he was born, my sweet miracle:

The JImmy Cone Experience

I begrudgingly admit that there are some really great things not living in LA. This friday Tasha, Kelly, Zach and I headed out for some ice cream after Sweet Baby Max went down for the night (or for the next two hours as the case was.)
We headed out to Jimmy Cone where Zach and the girls had been going since they were little kids. It’s just one stand with two flavors; chocolate and vanilla, and a line as long TKTS in Times Square. There are two picnic tables on the side by the road where about 15 seven to eight year old girls fresh from their softball game incessantly screamed “Honk your horn!” to every single car that drove by. And I do mean every single car. Now, before I had a baby I would have been annoyed, but now I thought what an asshole you are if you don’t honk your horn! This is a Jimmy Cone tradition. There is always a softball/baseball/basketball team of kids having their post game treat and screaming. And the residents know it, and they damn well better honk. And 99% of them do, eliciting squeels of delight from the kids.
As we were waiting patiently to get our cones I just looked around at all the kids being, well, KIDS. Kids climbing on the steel poles holding the awning up, little brothers of the softball team running around testing mommies boundaries…you could see the little smirk on their faces “how close can I get to the parking lot before Mommy yells” It was really good for the heart to see children safe and free enough to be kids. And while some teenagers rolled their eyes at the noisy little ones, I am certain that just a few years ago too they were racing their friends to the top of the poles or screaming “honk your horn” and practically peeing with excitement when you get an actual big truck to obey you! At one point an abulance came by and turned the siren on, for one moment the children were terrified, then once they realized it was for them…an extra sepcial horn, they just freaked out. Hannah Montana three years ago freak out. It was just, well, heartwarming.
I could picture Max climbing the poles there, and yelling after his T-ball game and I could imagine him at age three running towards the parking lot with that little smirk on his face, testing me to see how far he could get.
That’s what is appealing about living away from LA.
Soon enough the girls headed home and were replaced by a boys team. A little older maybe 9-11 years old. And even while one team left and another came in there was never a lapse in the battle cry “Honk your horn!”

I wonder where life will lead us, will we truly head back to LA? I want to go home with everything that I have. But then I think of a warm Friday night at Jimmy Cone and Max and his friends yelling at cars and it gets me thinking.
Maybe just maybe there is somewhere near LA where a magical place like Jimmy Cone exists…

Who are the people in my neighborhood?

They may not all be in my actual neighborhood anymore, but these are the people I talk about the most. Here’s a run down for the new folks!
Obviously
King Max aka Baby Max, Stinker, Stinky Bee, Sweet D, Snuggle Bug.
The reason for this blog
The love of my life and coolest person I’ve ever met. Makes the world a better place just by existing and is certain to get little old ladies to pinch his cheeks at the grocery store or mall (I never believed people really just walk up to little ones and pinch cheeks but it’s true!)

Zach aka ZRD, Zoo.
Second love of my life. It’s OK, I’ve been usurped in his heart too! C’est la vie. Wicked funny, evil joke player and tall tale spinner, brilliant actor. We met playing brother and sister in a play. (Collective eeeeeeeewwww!) Had phenomenal wedding at the Mission Inn, living in bliss ever since. Except for that horrible Ohio bit. But we’re back on track now. No one makes me laugh harder…except possibly:

Heather aka DUB
My best friend since I was three, her mom and my mom are best friends. We were raised together and she is more like my sister than BFF. We call each other sisters and say our babies are cousins, her son is my nephew. Mine is hers. We had twin speak as little kids, true story our very own language until my mom got royally annoyed and insisted we stop. Our parents say we are twins separated by two months and two thousand mile births. Don’t have a single childhood memory without her.

Ammar aka Mahmood, First Guy
Dub’s fiance and Zuzu Bee’s daddy. Funny, smart, great actor. Former roommate and all around good guy. Total golden child, ya know one of those guys who good stuff just always happens too. It’d be easy to hate him if he weren’t so damn cool.

Isaiah Mahmood: Zuzu Bee.
God how I love this baby. Dub and Mahmood’s son, born 6 days before Max (yeah we even had our babies together, just like every let’s pretend game we ever played as kids). Born with crazy Zoolander hair, uber cute, uber active and chatty and just frickin awesome. Zuzu has PKU
You can find info on it here: http://www.pku.com/AboutPKU/TheScienceOfPKU.aspx
We’re Team Zuzu. Basically in a teeny tiny nutshell he can’t process protein and if he has too much it can basically turn into toxic chemicals in his brain. Untreated it can cause some mental retardation. So it’s a constant struggle to keep his numbers in the right range. It absolutely kills me to not be there while they are going through this. It’s a lifetime struggle but to not be there when your sisters baby is having blood tests like every week is really rough. Zuzu is doing great and I hope to have pics of the boys together again soon!!!

Umba Bunny: Heather and Ammar’s poodle. Nuerotic, silly, sweet, so light I think she’s made of air. She’s so cute and Sammy is totally in love with her. To this day if we accidentally say her name Sam will spend all day going to the front door to see if she’s here yet.

Sammy the Dog aka Prozac Puppy
Rescued Tibetan Spaniel Mix. We’re his fifth and forever home, he’s a total snuggler, sweet as can be but terrified of almost everything due to his history of abuse before he came to us. Way more high maintenance than the bebe. Used to threaten to send him to live with his grandparents when he would bark and wake the bebe, but since now we all live with the grandparents…there goes that threat.

And speaking of Grandparents:
My rocking in laws who took us in and built us an apartment in their home so Max would have a safe place to live.
G-pa: Bobob as Max says. Funny, persnickety, do-gooder, Thinks 7:30 is sleeping in on a Saturday.
G-ma: the Ultimate Jewish mother, 5 foot tall, cheerleader in high school who can still do a cartwheel into the splits. Ask her, she’ll show you. Plus it mortifies Zach which is an extra special bonus.
Auntie Kelly: Zach’s little sister, we have the same birthday and Kelly is just like me; if nothing rotten had ever happened to me. She’s a fashionista, makes fantabulous cupcakes, and her friends are way lucky to have her. She’s basically all around awesome. And I am constantly in admiration of her ability to share, her kind heart, how non competative she is…she’s super cool.

Pictures later, King Max has awoken!

I’m a no on Zombies.

I learned something via twitter this last weekend and that is that an amazing amount of people call Easter ‘Happy Jesus Zombie Day’. I find this equal parts hysterically funny and totally disturbing. I wonder if it’s cause I’m really, really afraid of Zombies. More than clowns, and that’s saying a lot! I loathe Zombies. I totally think that could happen, like…that’s what biological warfare looks like! I admit to being a total freak and figuring out where we would hide in case of Zombie attack. Cause according to Shaun of the Dead, if they don’t know you’re in there they’ll leave you alone. And thankfully they tend to not be too interested in animals, cause Lord knows no matter how high the dosage the Prozac Puppy just keeps barking. We’re at my in laws now, living the American Dream, so it would be their room in case of Zombie attack. It’s huge, with a gigantic bathroom, two levels and only five small windows which could easily be covered with dark fabric..I should get some of that duvatine that lighting guys use on shoots to block out the light, hmmm. We’d use those baby doorknob locks to add to the safety locks on the doors. We’d only use the tv during the day…or drag it into the gigantic bathroom to check the news at night.

Maybe I should be the one taking the puppy’s prozac.

Anyway, Happy Jesus Zombie day. Happy Day? Or Jesus was a happy Zombie? Both I suppose…although wouldn’t he have the right to be just one seriously pissed off Zombie? But he’s better than us, blah blah blah pass the Reese’s eggs, right? No really, to all that celebrate Easter I hope you had a wonderful day. I too, celebrate Easter and honestly meant to take King Max to Church but he had other plans. He’s a totally easy baby, sweet, good natured, fusses only when tired or hungry. But he was not having it! Just fussy and crying and unhappy. Closer inpection revealed on lumpy white gum left front upper tooth! Whahoo! A tooth! We’ve got none so far and I love the gummy smiles, but eventually he’s got to get one right? Well he’s been happy as a clam since then and still no tooth. Tooth watch continues.

Here in the Dulli house they celebrate both Passover and Easter, Zach’s mom is Jewish and so we had a Seder on Tuesday night. Man that was fun!! Matzo balls are yummy. And Ms. D made me vegetarian Mazto ball soup. Max took the opportunity of having an audience of twelve people at dinner to say MAMA for the first time. Be.Still.My.Beating.Heart. I missed it the first time, I had left the room to get him something and he looked after me and said it! Zach ran into tell me and I waited patiently for him to say it again. He was kicking it in his Cookie Monster walker while we had the Seder and finally he was done and looked right at me, held out his arms and said clear as day ‘Mama’. Swoon. Much cheering and snuggling and kissing commenced. God, I love my baby. Doesn’t matter where we live, how seperated I am from the world, how much I miss my family…one little ‘mama’ and all is right with the world.

Very tired Easter Baby.

The Upshot.

We’ve had a lot of changes and since I’ve moved all the way accross the country I felt like I needed a new blog too. I’ll transfer all the past posts over here eventually, but King Max naps in short bursts so it may take a bit. Silly infant must come first and all that.
So, if you’ve missed it or you’re new…Welcome! Here’s the upshot.
* I know I’m pregnant. I don’t care if two test say no, bitches I. Am. Knocked. Up.
* Lo and behold test #3 says PREGNANT. Tests 4-27 confirm it. Maybe a little ocd about peeing on a stick? You be the judge.
* Off to Doctor’s. Hmpf. I know when I got pg. She says I’m FOUR weeks behind and things don’t look so good. Happy anniversary to me and Z.
* Dub is pregnant too! This is so friggin exciting! Like, every let’s pretend game we ever played in elementary school.
* Dub’s DD is my original DD before Doc K. stole four weeks from me.
* Doc K gives me two of the four weeks back, but I know better. New DD 8/8/08. nice.
* Off to Christmas with the Fam and the pup. Begin puking over the Holiday. Yay!
* NYE. Puking and Dexter. Good times.
* Doc K give me my two weeks back! But no one will change the DD cause 8/8/08 is uber cool. Curses!
* More puking.
* Supposedly there’s a Honeymoon period of pregnancy, is it coming?
* Nope. More puking!
* I’m getting huge. People are starting to say “any minute now, huh?” any minute…in about four months so STFU!
* I’m like Jabba the Hut. Since Sammy looks a wee bit like that scrappy muppet I’m embracing it. Method Acting.
* Considering getting a bikini clad woman to chain to me and dance to entertain me.
* Tossing my cookies is getting harder and more painful what with the large turkey taking up most of my belly space. It’s all worth it!
* Dub and I spend every day floating in the pool. Heaven. So lucky to live in So.Cal. Swoony.
*Tour the Hospital with ZRD, Mahmood and Dub. Serious giggles. Get in trouble just like in school.
* We’re delivering in the Disney Dumbo wing of St. Joseph’s, lots of cute art about.
* Dub points out “didn’t they take Dumbo away from his Mommy?” laugh till we cry, or cry till we laugh. Either way.
* Baby Class with Dub and Mahmood and ZRD! Fascinating…
* 35 week check up with U/S. Baby is upside down. No natural delivery for me unless the kid can flip.
* Ever seen a big pregnant woman laying upside down on an ironing board on an incline from the couch with cold peas on her belly? A feat worthy of Cirque de Soliel lemme tell ya.
* Should have taken pics.
* No flipping of baby. C-section it is. Shed a few tears…but after ZRD asks DR K what would have happened 100 years ago and she says we would have died, feeling pretty groovy about C-section.
* Uh-oh. Baby is not only breach (Head under right ribs, booty by left hip.) But his legs are jacknifed. Meaning up over his head. Will he need surgery/braces/therapy for his hips?
* Dub’s water breaks! We’re off to the Hospital!
* Everytime I go to the Loo the Dr’s and nurses keep trying to get me to get in bed…it’s not me today people! I’ll be back on Saturday!
* Labor is fun! We’re cracking jokes, taking pictures! Oh wait, maybe it’s not so fun. Nope. Not fun…EPIDURAL!!!!* Precious baby Isaiah enters the world at 11:59 p.m. July 20th. I am in love.
* Try to squeeze in as much Zuzu time as I can before my baby makes his appearance!
* Feeling wierd about arbitrarily choosing baby’s birthday. Must get over it.
* Night before C-section. So nervous. Wierd cramping, sorta painful. Nerves?
* No dumbass. Not nerves, those cramps coming and going? CONTRACTIONS. I’m wicked smart.
* Get to hospital, contractions are 2 minutes apart. Fascinating. I’m so nervous. I think terrified is the word. I’ve never been more scared in my life. Want to change my mind…so scared.
* They take me in…they tell me there will be some pulling and tugging but nothing bad.
* LIARS! The final scene from Braveheart runs through my mind. Am I being gutted like William Wallace?
* Baby is finally visible! Doctor say “Definatly BOY!”
* Also says “I’m not leaving THAT in there”…what is that? I still wonder.
* He’s here! Legs akimbo! Cries, best sound ever.
* I’m freaking out. Must. get. off. table.
* They bring me the baby. Swoon. I say hello and he reaches out and touches my face. The whole world changes.
* Man, those legs are way up over his head. Make jokes about ‘good thing it’s not a girl!’
* Everyone comes to visit me in the hospital and see Baby Max, who is gorgeous! I’ve never felt more loved in my whole life.
* C-sections suck.
* Settle into lovely routine with Baby Max, ZRD and weekly dinners and lunches at Aroma with Dub, Mahmood and Zuzu.
* Life is good.
* Zach gets dream job in Akron. Will we leave lovely LA?
*We do. Heart broken. We move to Akron.
* Honsetly? Akron might be hell. The people are nice but instead of hellfire there’s Lake Effect Snow. Either way…it’s horrible.
* After 6 weeks the theatre closes. Now we are out of work with an infant in a place we loathe far away from my sister and Mahmood and Zu. Many tears.
*Next four months are worst of my life. Feel like I’ve lost everything. Just keep saying Max is healthy and fine and that is all that matters.
* move to DC to stay with the IL’s.
* My precious, sweet first baby Minky passes away on the drive from Hell/Ohio to DC. Can I loose anything else that means the world to me?
* Don’t answer that God.
*Max is safe and happy. All that matters.
* So, that catches us up to day! I am certain to be more optomistic. Things have been so.damn.bad. They can only get better!!