New Mom Old Mom

I haven’t posted in awhile.  I got too busy.  Here’s the lowdown on my life the past few weeks:

• I found out our baby is breech AND big.  At 32 weeks, the doc was estimating her weight around 4 pounds.   Had an ultrasound at 33 weeks, and she had turned (which I suspected.)  But she measured 5 to 5/12 pounds. 

• I broke my elbow walking up the street from my son’s bus stop. I just tripped and landed on my hands and knees, but must’ve taken the full brunt of the fall in my right elbow (Guess what? I’m right handed). It was my first real broken bone (because I don’t count a toe and a tailbone).   I cried from the pain, but also from the fact that I was 34  weeks pregnant and had a broken arm. The ER put on a hard cast and hung a sling around my neck. That was on Friday.  It was a miserable weekend – I felt so handicapped.  But on Monday, the orthopedic specialist declared that the fracture was very minor and would not heal any faster in a cast.  He said if I were a child, he’d leave on the cast, but as an adult, the mobility is more important. He predicted a full recovery in about three weeks, but said if I fall again, if the pain gets worse, or if I don’t have full range of motion at the end of three weeks, to come back and he’ll do another X-ray.  I could have kissed him when he took that cast off.  The arm is doing better everyday, and as long as I remember not to lift anything heavy, turn a doorknob, etc., I don’t have much pain.

• I went for my 34-week OB visit, and my doc had a hard time finding the baby’s heartbeat. That was a few scary moments.  Then when he found it, it was very faint.  To reassure both of us, he took me back to the ultrasound room, and we discovered that my daughter flipped AGAIN!  So, back to breech position.  This time, I’m not going to worry.  If she can turn once, she can turn again, right?

• I announced at my work today that I’m not returning after my baby is born.  Our senior level account staff already knew this, but the “general population” did not.  Although, I don’t think anyone was surprised.  I stayed home with my first two children for 10 years as a freelancer.  And this is my LAST AT BAT.  So, it’s time to start reaching out to my former freelancing contacts, but I’m hoping my current company will be a main source of that work for me, as they were in the past.

• My 12-year-old daughter started cotillion two weeks ago. She hates it.  At least, she says she hates it.  It was a little awkward, because she wasn’t “asked to dance” in the first round of dancing, so she, along with about 10 other girls, went to the “stag” line to wait their turn.  Needless to say, there are more girls than boys in their session, so this will be a problem each week.  She vacillates between not wanting to be asked to dance, and also not wanting to be sent to the stag line.  I’m so glad I’m not 12! 

• My 9-year-old son started a fall golf league and loves it.  My husband says he’s doing really well.  I hate golf (too slow, frustrating) but am glad he likes it.  It’s safe. It doesn’t matter that he’s small. It’s gentleman-like.  Lots of reasons for a mom to like a sport.  But, he still wants to play football.  At age 9, he’s about 55 pounds.  I’m very opposed to this, but he and Dad keep working on me.  Then, yesterday, a friend/client offered to let my son join his flag football team next year.  I’m considering it, but I know what it will lead to.  My husband keeps saying that my son’s size doesn’t matter – he’s fast and agile and coordinated.  He is fast and agile and coordinated, but brute force still counts for something.  I guess I’ll worry more about that later.

With Mattel announcing yet another toy recall today, I got to wondering about the whole experience of garage-sale shopping.  I know the garage sale season is about over, but I can’t imagine having to carry a list of all those recalled toys along on what used to be fun garage-sale shopping days. 

My older kids used to love to have a few dollars in their pocket to take along on these journeys in order to buy a used toy here and there.  Plus, now that I’m older and wiser, I was figuring I’d probably be more sensible about toy shopping for this baby and plan to pick up some of her future toys at garage sales next spring.  Now that won’t be happening!  I’d be afraid of lead paint or some other danger.  I guess it’s no different from not buying a used crib, or a carseat from someone you don’t know, etc.

What a frustrating couple of weeks I’ve had with regard to my kids and sickness. About three weeks ago, my 9-year-old son had a slight fever and a cough.  That normally wouldn’t send me to the pediatrician, but we had a weekend lake trip planned, so I decided better safe than sorry. 

The doc looked at him, declared it viral, but added the caveat that if the fever persists, if symptoms worsen, or if he develops a rash of some kind, to pay him another visit. About one week later, I returned from two days out of town with my 12-year-old daughter to discover that his cough was much, much worse.  We went back to the doc, and he was diagnosed with pneumonia. The doc put him on a five-day course of antibiotics and said it wasn’t contagious.

Then on Monday night (about three days after my son finished his meds), my daughter started coughing, and by Tuesday, she was feeling lousy.  I took her to the doctor at 5 p.m. Tuesday, mainly because I was feeling guilty for letting my son’s illness drag on for so long before taking him back to the doctor.  Mind you – a 5 p.m. doctor appointment in St. Louis isn’t easy (lots of traffic, lots of working parents in the lobby waiting to be “worked in,” etc.)

Again, the doc declared it viral – no fever, no swollen glands, no rattle in the chest, thus no pneumonia.  However, this time he tells me there is a strain of pneumonia that can be contagious, and said he’d need to take another look at my daughter if she developed a fever or if the cough worsened.

We were home by 6:30 p.m.  By 8 p.m., she had a 103 degree fever, a worse cough, the chills, and she looked horrible.  I was peeved.  Not because my poor kid was sick, but because I know my pediatrician and I know how committed he and his partners are to reducing the abuse of antibiotics.  He almost NEVER puts my kids on antibiotics, and I’m glad.  I am afraid of the antibiotic resistant bacteria.  But here it was, not three full hours since I’ve seen the doc, and I’ve got to put in a call the exchange.

As suspected, my doctor’s partner who returned my call did not want to prescribe anything over the phone.  He said we couldn’t be sure it was the same thing, yada yada yada.  Being 6 ½ months pregnant, I’m a tad short on patience and a tad long on emotions right now.  I got testier than I would have liked, almost cried, and all but insisted that he call in a prescription.  I told him, “I have been with your practice for 12 years. My parents and in-laws constantly comment on how little is done for our kids when they’re sick, and we tow your line.  I would have left this practice a long time ago if I didn’t support your stance on antibiotic abuse.  But I don’t think that one course of treatment, even if it ends up being unnecessary, is going to make my daughter resistant or significantly contribute to this medical problem in general.”

I got my way.  My daughter improved significantly after 24 hours.  Maybe she would have improved anyway.  When I was a kid, my doctor was shot-happy.  I got a shot in my rear if I had a fever and a cough.  There weren’t throat cultures. There was no, “let’s wait and see if the symptoms worsen.”  If you were sick, you went on drugs.  My parents and in-laws think our doctor is lame.  They think physicians today are just afraid of being sued. They don’t believe in this antibiotic resistance stuff at all.  I know antibiotic resistance is a real problem, but sometimes you just have to do what you think is right for your kid versus what’s right for the “greater good.”

I took my son (9), daughter (12) and nephew (5) to see “Walking with Dinosaurs” last night at the Scottrade Center in St. Louis.

It was a very cool experience, especially for the boys.  I must admit, my daughter and I weren’t as into it as they were, although I did learn some things.  And it wasn’t ever boring, just not my passion.

My 5-year-old nephew was probably the most versed among us as to the names of the dinosaurs, and he simply could not wait for T-Rex to make her appearance.  He was not disappointed. 

As a Christian, I was just remotely apprehensive about what “evolution” messages were going to be delivered, wondering if I would be fumbling to answer questions from my kids about how the dinosaurs fit into the creation stories they learn at church.  But I was pleasantly surprised.  It was “just the facts,” interesting, strictly historic/scientific, and in my opinion, would not bother even the most fundamental creationist.

I’d recommend the show, which is on-tour for at least a couple more months.

This weekend, I got to learn once again, just how hard it is to be a parent — particularly when your child is hurting.

My 12-year-old daughter is a competitive swimmer, and has been for six years.  She swims year-round, and it is her only sport.  She’s good.  And during the past year, she’s really made some enormous strides, moving from a “middle of the packer” to a “top of the packer” within her club and age group.  Last fall, she decided she wanted to go to Zones this year, which is a regional swim meet in August that requires swimmers to achieve a “Triple A” time, or an “AAA” time standard within USA Swimming, Central Zones.  (While I’m a swim parent, let me say that I may not have the wording correct here. I’m still learning, as my daughter progresses in the sport).

Anyway, my daughter set her Zones goal, and then did the work to achieve the goal. She upped her practice from 2-3 times/week to 4-5/times per week (each practice is nearly 2 hours, so it’s a big commitment).  By the time summer, long-course swim season arrived, she had mostly A times and a few double A’s.  She became even more focused.  She worked really hard.  My husband and I made sure to enter her in all the swim meets we could this summer to give her as many chances as possible to achieve this goal.   And she made sacrifices, too, by giving up sleepovers so that she’d be rested for a morning meet, or skipping friends’ birthday parties altogether in order to attend an out-of-town swim meet. 

This past weekend was her last shot at her triple at a championship meet in Carbondale, IL.  Her coach anticipated that she would get the time; she EXPECTED to get the time; her friends thought it would happen; and I was fairly certain she’d pull it off. She was within ½ second to 4 seconds away in a number of swimming events. 

Unfortunately, she didn’t swim as well as she expected.  In fact, on the last morning of the meet, her coach pulled her from the relay because she added enough time in her swim to knock her out of the top 4 in her age group for that event.  She was devastated, crying and deflated.  But she still had two more events to swim, plus finals that evening.  I wasn’t sure what to do for her or what to say to her.  I reminded her that what her coach did was fair – the other girls swam better than her that day and they deserved the relay spots.  I also reminded her that she wasn’t swimming her best, and that she could do better.  Then I gave her a hug.  She didn’t feel comforted, and I felt like I was failing, too. 

I walked away from her, cried a few tears myself over my inability to help her, and then went back to talk to her one more time.  Here’s what I said:

“You’ve worked hard for nine months.  You’ve made the deposits into this account, and now you need to make your withdrawals (I read that somewhere in a swimming-related article, so I apologize to the original thought-author).  You came here expecting this to happen, but it’s not going to happen because you expect it.  It’s going to happen because you apply what you’ve learned this year.

“Now, remember something else which is more important.  Swimming a triple isn’t a life skill that will get you anywhere.  But, recovering from this defeat, and rallying yourself so that you can go back out there in your remaining swims and put your best foot forward – now that’s a life skill worth having.” 

My “little girl” made me proud.  She swam her two remaining events and got new “best times” (another swim term).  She made it to finals, and got new best times that evening in all three events, as well.  And, she came within 2/100s of a second of achieving her Triple A.

No – she didn’t get her time.  But she rallied, which I think was even more difficult.  And, she remained on the deck after her events to cheer for her friends and teammates (who replaced her on that relay). I didn’t tell her to do that, she just did it. 

She’s been coveting a new Nike swim bag that I had told her would be a present before going to Zones.  I changed my mind – it’s a present her Dad and I bought for her yesterday to remind her how proud we are of her.