I Have Scars

I realized I never wrote anything about the cholestasis, and I thought I should.

I am happy to report that it went away within the time it took for my epidural to wear off. I actually hadn't noticed. I guess I was in a hormonal and exhausted state of mind and body. So much so, that I didn't notice that this thing that had afflicted me for seven weeks was gone.

It tortured me. It laughed at me when I was sobbing on the edge of my bed for hours a night for weeks on end. It heckled me when I took my medicine for it every morning, knowing nothing would help. It made me self-conscious and afraid to leave my home, for fear that it would start. And then not stop.

It took seven long weeks from me. Seven weeks of sleep. Seven weeks of enjoying my pregnancy. Seven weeks of peace of mind. It took seven weeks of safe driving and the ability to maintain focus on a conversation or TV show. It took seven weeks of enjoying movies, bubble baths, dining out. Seven weeks of enjoying my life.

I have scars- both physical and emotional.

I scratched my skin until I bled. I have scars from scratching all over my body, from my feet to my legs, to my hands, arms, and shoulders. I have a scar shaped like a long line on my stomach from where I used my engagement ring to scratch out of total desperation.

I feel no joy or relaxation from getting my back scratched. I feel afraid when I have an itch- I'm afraid that the itch will grow, that it will not stop.

I am very seriously traumatized from the cholestasis. I am so, so, so thankful it went away, but I am nowhere near past it yet.

And part of me feels like I'm being dramatic. Sure, I was itchy for a few weeks, but I got a sweet baby boy out of it, right?

But I feel like seven weeks of emotional breakdowns- sobbing in the shower, while driving, while eating, while trying to sleep- warrants a little drama. Seven weeks of literally outright begging my OB to let me just have this baby to make it stop. Actually, I only begged for four weeks. I guess I kind of gave up for the last three. I knew the OB wasn't going to help me. I knew I was stuck in this constant state of breakdowns until either 37 Weeks or Little Man showed signs of distress. And I knew there was nothing I could do or say or plead that would change it.

It's been fourteen-and-a-half weeks since Baby Boy was born; twenty-one weeks since I was diagnosed with cholestasis; twenty-two weeks since I first felt the effects.

But I'm still terrified every time I get the smallest itch.

September 6, 2012

For someone who's historically been so good with dates, I totally flubbed up on one recently.

This past Sunday, September 6, was the third anniversary of us closing on our house.

April 28, 2012

So many parts of our lives have changed in the time we've been in this home.

June 9, 2012

We've seen both of Hubs' brothers and my sister get married.

July 1, 2012

We've become an aunt and uncle, respectively.

August 9, 2012

We've traveled to Chicago for concerts and visiting with friends, 

August 16, 2012

to south Florida for Christmas with my family, 

August 19, 2012

to Destin for fun beach trips with great friends,

August 26, 2012

to Hawaii with hubs' family,

First wedding anniversary, September 10, 2012

and to Italy, Greece, and Turkey on a Disney cruise

Cutting down my first real Christmas tree, December1, 2012

so we could start the next chapter of our lives:

Snow, February 2014

We became parents to the most wonderful little ball of screams and giggles, our tiny miracle.

Two Month Old Brownies.

Two months. Lots of pictures.

He's gotten slightly better at posing. The fact that he can smile helps a lot!

Little Man has grown a lot in the two months he's been in the outside world. Well, not in terms of poundage or anything, but in terms of mental faculties. This little boy has been able to roll from his tummy onto his back since he was six-and-a-half weeks old (he's now almost 10 weeks old)!

Such an over-achiever.

He survived Mommie's 27th birthday at Macaroni Grill, and only resorted to tears when he realized that not all of the attention was on him.

He's overcome with excitement

He survived his first pool day, when Mommie and Daddy hung out with friends, then the girls went off to dinner- without babies. I suppose this is a touch misleading. The child did not actually get in the water. He actually didn't even see the water. He's still infinitely too small for any type of swim diaper, so he and Daddy stayed inside and hung out with the other people who didn't want to swim. Don't you fret, though, he will be getting in a pool sometime soon- even if it finally happens at the beach in October.

The men with the babies

The women without the babies (except for Abby). Also to note: 

there are two babies in this picture because Alyssa is pregnant!

He also survived his first day of day care! He wasn't sure at first if it was something he was interested in trying. He's doing so well there, and his teachers tell me every day when I pick him up how he's such a sweet and happy baby.

I'd like to meet this baby.

He stares skeptically on his first day. 

The baby I see is fussy and cries and only finally falls asleep between 11pm and midnight, and has started waking up- at least once through the night- when he used to sleep through the night. We're getting better at figuring him out though. It's like every week we have a new baby who wants something new and we need to relearn him. It's becoming less frustrating now that I know this, though.

"Why are you taking pictures of me instead of making me happy?"

Just look at that pouty lip.

Hanging with Puppy immediately after second lunch.

Anyways, he is doing well at day care, and I'm doing alright with handling it. I still can't drop him off there though. I just can't. The thought of it makes me weepy. I'd much rather go pick him up so I can have him the rest of the night!

Just the cutest photo subjects around.

On the 15th of August, my mom finally made her big move to Huntsville. She drove up with a car-full of belongings and that's all she has. My grandma came up with her to help with the drive and to meet Babykins. My mom started a new job on the 17th and she's enjoying it, and my grandma flew back down home after a week of cuddling and playing with Babyface.

He met both of his Great Grandmothers in August! Grandma Doris and GG:

I tried to get a photo with him. Below is typical:

But we snuck one in when he wasn't paying attention:

My sleepy Brownie.

Tummy time!

Puppy has really been enjoying Baby. At first she was probably like, "Why did you bring this small loud thing here? We never get any sleep anymore." But now she's more like, "Bring me the small loud thing. I want to sniff its nether regions." She's been great with him, always wanting to be near him and she likes to try to sneak in some kisses. She and Daddy can often be found on the nursery floor napping while Hugo gets his last meal for the night.

But she's not afraid or ashamed to beg for attention when Little Man is asleep.

"Play with me. Now."

Fin.

Just One More.

To be honest, going back to work has been tough.

Of course I was expecting to have a hard time leaving Little Man at day care. And I was expecting to wish I was at home cuddling with him/trying to get him to sleep/wondering why he's crying again/scrubbing baby poop out of his clothes/doing loads of laundry and dishes/being happy to get to spend all my time with him.

But I wasn't expecting to come back to work to a team that resents me for being out for three months. There were a lot of misunderstandings between me, my superiors, and my coworkers which lead to me being stuck in a pretty ugly place upon my return. And it makes me really sad because I really like my team. Unfortunately, there is no way to explain or apologize (not that I need to apologize for anything) to them as a group, so I've decided to just move forward and do my job. Once they see that I'm working to become a productive member of the team again, they'll come around. And it's not like they're being mean to me. I don't have rotten vegetables being thrown at me as I walk down the halls or anything. It's just a different team dynamic.

Another thing I wasn't expecting was for Little Man's two-month appointment to be so positive, and yet so disappointing. Topping out at a whopping 7 lbs 13 oz, he is only 1 lb, 11 oz heavier than he was at birth. He's only 2.5" longer. We were told he's healthy and thriving, but that I really need to increase my milk supply, as he is exclusively breastfed. Either the milk supply increases, or we need to start supplementing with formula.

I know there's nothing wrong with supplementing, and that the only thing that matters is that my sweet baby boy is growing healthily.

But I feel like it's just one more thing my body can't do correctly in terms of this child.

"What do you mean?" 

That's a good question.

Let's back-track, shall we?

October 2014 - We're pregnant! Yay! So much excitement!
November 2014 - We told our parents we're pregnant! So much excitement!
December 2014 - Baby's first Christmas in existence! So much nausea!
January 2015 - Happy New Year! Let's spend a weekend in the hospital!
February- April 2015 - It's a boy! Let's spend at least one night in each of these months in the hospital!
May 2015 - Third trimester! Let's get diagnosed with a liver disease and put Baby at risk! Let's stop sleeping altogether and start losing weight!
June 2015 - Let's continue not sleeping and continue losing weight, then have a very complicated labor that puts Baby into distress and danger several times! Hey, let's also break my tailbone during delivery and make recovery substantially more difficult than it would been otherwise!

And now

August 2015 - Let's not produce enough milk to sustain this sweet little baby that we endured some pretty rough stuff for, for the first half of the year!

Yay!

I'm being dramatic. This, I know. But it's where I am right now.

A better Two Month post to follow.

We'll Take You Up on That.

At over a month and a half now, I thought it was possibly time for a quick update from the trenches of motherhood.

He'll get better at posing... right?

We thought it would be fun if Daddy was in

the pictures for H's monthly shots.

We're actually doing well. Little Man has gotten himself into a bit of a routine that consists of: sleep, diaper change, eat, sleep, repeat. He's a great day time sleeper for the most part, and his sleep at night is getting better weekly. Just last night he slept from 12:30am - 6:30am! Of course, he is a newborn, so sleeping straight through the night is more like a welcome surprise than an expected occurrence. I'll take it though.'

I'm thankful that he and I were able to get into a good breastfeeding habit. I'm thankful that even though we had some tiny hiccups at first, everything seems to have worked itself out, and now we're both comfortable with each other. I'm thankful, also, that for the most part, every day I'm able to pump an extra bottle, so Husband can feed him for one feeding through the night, allowing me to sleep through it.

Milk drunk on Mommie's birthday

Our plan originally was to have Babykins sleep in the Pack'n'Play in our room for the first six months. You know what they say about plans... Anyways, he hates the Pack'n'Play with a fiery passion, and so Little Man has been sleeping in his crib nightly since he was about 2.5 weeks old. That being said, I'll go ahead and admit that our best purchase post-baby-birth has been a baby monitor. We registered for one and never received it, and then we decided not to bother getting one with our gift cards since he was going to be in our room. Well when he decided he wanted to be a Big Boy and sleep in his own room, Husband and I spent two weeks sleeping on the floor since we were unable to hear the cries from our room. I would take the first shift- including the task of getting him down for the night. My shift ended around 3am. Hubs' alarm clock would go off around 2:45, giving him time to pee and wake up a little before coming to wake me from my restless slumber on the floor so he could take over. Note that I, specifically, HAD to sleep on the floor since I couldn't lean back in the rocking chair in a way that would be comfortable with the broken tailbone.

And then enter the monitor. Since then, we've both been sleeping in our bed and, depending on the time of night, we each take turns getting up if Little Man wakes up. Lately, we've fallen into a routine where Hubs takes the first "shift" and gets H down for the night, and sometimes gives him the pumped bottle. Then I have been taking the later part (also known as "early morning") shift so Hubs can get up and get dressed for work.

My 27th birthday, and a baby who can't contain his excitement.

We've been getting better about understanding what Babykins wants when he's crying, and have a sort of mental list we go down. Hungry? No. Diaper? No. Cold? Try hat, then hat and socks, then just socks. Warm? Remove footed onesie and wrap in lightweight blanket. Of course, sometimes he's just overtired and fussy. We learned last night that packing him into the car seat and resting him on top of the dryer while it's running will calm him down. (Note: don't leave baby unattended on the dryer!) He did wake up when he was removed from the car seat/dryer situation, but he was calm, and therefore much more easily soothed to sleep with the 5 S's.

Speaking of the 5 S's (from Dr. Harvey Karp's book The Happiest Baby on the Block, which was given me us by a neighbor with a 9 month old baby boy), we tried it last week, and really haven't looked back.

1. Swaddle
2. Side/Stomach
3. Shush
4. Swing
5. Suck.

We've never actually needed to get to the fifth S. Usually Little Man is asleep by Swing. I recommend it. It doesn't always work, and those times (like last night before being calmed by the dryer) are extraordinarily frustrating.

I can really tell some days that I've really become a mom. I'm proud of things I never thought I'd be proud of: pooping, passing gas, burping, not crying through bath time. And things I never knew were a big deal, are suddenly a big deal. Like when my itty-bitty 6 lb 2 oz, 19'5" baby boy outgrows his Preemie-sized clothes and I have to muster up the strength to pack up his little train onesie and monster footie PJs. At last (rough) measure, Babykins is already about 23.5"-24" long. He seriously needs to stop. Is it too much to ask for him to stay tiny, but get potty-trained and sleep through the night? I don't think so.

Little Man had his first bath in the tub on July 7- his due date. His first restaurant outing was July 13 to PF Changs. The first time he rolled from tummy to back was at 6.5 weeks old on August 3rd.

Mommie and Daddy had their first night out without Babykins on August 1. I'm proud to say that even though a large portion of our conversations were about Little Man himself, I resisted the urge to respond to texts from his loving babysitters (his DiDi and Aunt Sarah). Though I did carefully inspect the photos I was sent. Husband and I had a lovely evening out that consisted of all-you-can-eat meat at Texas de Brazil, a nice stroll through Bridgestreet and Barnes and Noble, popsicles from Steel City Pops, and a drink at the Melting Pot. Around 9 we decided we were tired and headed home to a sweetly sleeping baby who then woke up and stayed up for several hours.

After his first bath in the tub!

I am proud to say that the lack of sleep being caused by having a new baby hasn't really been overly killing me yet. A month and a half of getting 1-2 hours of sleep per 24 hours due to the cholestasis really prepared for me for motherhood. I'm not going to say I'm thankful that I had the liver disorder, but I will say I'm thankful that I'm getting much more sleep now than I had been before H was born.

In other news, my mom, MiMi is moving here! The plan was for her to move here, live with us and watch H during the day when I went back to work until he had a spot at his day care. Long story short, everything about the plan changed (except for her living with us at first), and H's original day care told us they wouldn't have a spot for him until October at the earliest! Well that won't work because I go back to work on August 11! So we scrambled around and found him the absolute last spot that any day care had to offer, and it just happened to be a very nice, reputable, Christian day care that is close to both mine and Hubs' work. We are pleased.

We are slowly redefining our definition of "normalcy" and we're not unhappy with the results. Overall, Babykins is a joy to be around, and we're enjoying being his parents.

But if you feel like babysitting, we'll take you up on that.


Token puppy shot:

This is puppy from the other side of the door. Hubs

and I were trying to calm Babykins in the nursery

with the door closed, and poor Puppy wanted in to

see and play with Baby Brother sooooo bad!

Shirley

"Go ahead and pick two names, one for your baby, and one for that first postpartum poop."

Six days after having given birth to Hugo, one thing was left unfinished.

The first poop.

Now, throughout the week, I'd had some little poops here and there, but the real problem remained, and was going nowhere, fast. I'd tried stool softeners and suppositories and eating all sorts of high-fiber foods, and fruits and vegetables, and drinking different things. But nothing was working.

Disclaimer 1: This is a story of relieving postpartum constipation.

Disclaimer 2: This story is 99% true, and the 1% that's not is added so the story makes sense.

Saturday, June 27.

I had woken up to feed Hugo, who was in the process of starting to wake up. My mom was still with us, and my sister was still in town. 

The concoction of stool-altering medicines in my body was such:

• 3 Dulcolax stool softeners, daily (the max dosage)
• 1 Miralax stir-in powder, daily (the max dosage)
• 1 Dulcolax suppository, four hours prior to the beginning of the story (max dosage for one day)
• 5 orange-essence prunes (a serving)
• 5 oz of magnesium citrate with one full glass of water (half the dosage.. I was being cautious since I still needed to be available to feed Hugo when he needed)

So, there was a lot of stuff working inside of me.

Fifteen minutes after drinking the magnesium citrate, I started to feel some gurgles. "Yay!" I thought. 

This could be it.

I finished feeding Hugo, and handed him off to my mom to get changed and then asked them (my mom and my sister) to hang out in the back bedroom so I wouldn't hear if Hugo cried (so I could focus on the task at hand).

I went to the other side of the house, to our master bedroom, closed the bedroom door, then went to the master bathroom and closed that door. I also turned on the fan/vent for more noise reduction. (The kid has a surprisingly loud cry for someone who spent 4 hours in the NICU due to worries about his lungs).

And finally. I was pooping. There was a steady stream of not-super-watery-but-also-not-solid waste exiting my body, but I knew better. I knew the "cork" was still there- just being pushed around by the other waste.

(Side note, I can't believe I'm putting this on my blog, but I feel like if more people weren't ashamed of it, or embarrassed by it, I would have been more prepared in all the research I did for what to expect before, during and after giving birth).

So I'm feeling finished with this specific poo event. So I'm wiping, gently, because, you know.. I just gave birth.

Aaaaaand I clog the toilet. Normally this wouldn't have happened, because I would have been sure to do a courtesy flush, but the combination of the relief of having been able to "go," and the steps required to clean up the Downstairs Mix-Up after using the restroom distracted me.

So, I'm freaking out. Like "Oh crap. I have a toilet full of crap and bloody toilet paper and it's clogged." And suddenly, I'm pretty sure the cork is ready to start its journey.

So I run out into the living room, a hot, sweaty, screaming mess, and scream for Hubs to unclog that toilet in the fastest way he's ever done.

But he's using the guest bathroom.

And of course, I suddenly have to go. The cork waits for no man's plans.

I literally barged in on him using the restroom, throw a wad of toilet paper at him, screaming and crying for him to just get the hell out and that I'm sorry and that I love him and that this will never happen again, but that for right now, he needs to get the hell out of my way.

A terrified look upon his face told me he knew better than to ask questions.

I flush his bathroom effects, and sit down.

And I swear that all at once, I thought I was going to explode, implode, die and live all at the same time. I screamed a tiny, pathetic scream of pain, and I'm covered in sweat and tears, and somehow my hair is halfway out of its ponytail. But then, in a moment of calm, I call my mom.

My mom?! 

Yes, my mom. She came in, probably thinking I'd fallen over, or was about to pass out, or popped my stitches or was bleeding to death.

I introduced her to Shirley.

Gosh, I wish I was kidding about calling her in. But I felt she should meet her second grandchild.

So I flushed and continued expelling the contents of my bowels from the week. THE WEEK.

I came out of the bathroom to my mom, my sister, and Hubs sitting on the couch staring at me, confused and worried about what they'd just seen/heard/experienced.

I said, "I'm sorry that happened" then took a shower to clean off/feel human, and took a short nap (because Hugo was hungry again).

It's two weeks later, and I'm still taking the max dosage of stool softener and drinking half bottle of magnesium citrate per day. 

I will not become that sweaty, poopy monster again.


**Please note, that it was discovered one week after The Birth of Shirley, that the reason I was in so much excruciating pain through this entire process, is because in addition to the episiotomy, Hugo also broke my tailbone during his exit. Go figure, right?**

If you look closely you can see the line where my tailbone left a mark over his

right eye, through his hair. While the indentation is gone, a red line shows

up when he cries his big blood-curdling cries. 

The First Week

The first week at home with a newborn is kind of like trying to vacuum a room* while there is a tornado** ripping your house apart.

Our living room was rearranged the first time before Hugo even entered the house for the first time. Hubs came in while I was trying to get out of the car and re-situated all the furniture, moved the Pack-n-Play to the living room, got out burp cloths and blankets, and plugged in the night light into the plug near the front door. All before the child entered the house.

The next five days were similar in terms of living room reconstruction. It was like having a DIY renovation*** every day!

There are some details in this post that a friend of mine said "I can't believe you would share that on your blog! I could never." But I truly believe that if more people had shared it, and if more people felt like they could talk openly about it, I would have been more prepared. Let's just say it involves poop.. and not baby poop.

Anyways.

The first week. I'll summarize.

Baby: Poop; start to eat, but then poop; get changed; eat; sleep. Repeat.
Daddy: Eat; "sleep"; change diapers. Repeat.
MiMi: Eat; "sleep"; change diapers. Repeat.
Mommie: constant state of "What the hell have I done?" And also "Ouch."

We arrived home Sunday, June 21, around 7pm. The perfect time for sunset pictures in front of the house with new baby!

Note our new matching bracelets.

This day also happened to be Father's Day (and I have to admit, I'm going to have to work hard to top this Father's Day gift.. So will Hugo). Hubs' mom, DiDi, was kind enough to supply Olive Garden for the crew ("The Crew" consists of MiMi, DiDi, Sarah, Husband, Hugo, and myself) for our first dinner at home. Food was delish and Hugo slept right through it.

Then DiDi and Sarah left for the night, and Hugo woke up. This basically sums up the first overnight experience.

Monday, Uncle Brian came to visit! He wanted to meet Hugo so badly that he drove up from Birmingham after a 36-hour shift. He arrived, took a quick shower, and loved on Hugo. Then Hubs returned home with a glider and we put Brian to work building it. Then he rightfully took a 3 hour nap on the living room floor. (Hubs also napped on the floor, but only for about 1.5 hours instead of Brian's 3.) I was in a lot of pain and having a hard time sitting and getting comfortable. I showered and when I finished, I came out to crying hungry baby. Monday night, Hugo woke up.

June 22

Tuesday, we were supposed to have Hugo's newborn photos done, but I texted our photographers and friends over at Glass Jar Photography and begged them to reschedule, since Hugo was up all night, and so were the rest of us. Hugo had his first pediatrician appointment and he did so well! He'd lost some weight (5 lbs, 11 oz), and but otherwise was looking great. I had a hard time at the appointment, both because I couldn't sit comfortably for the ride in the car, but then also because I kept feeling the "urge to go." My pain continued when we got home. Turns out, I was constipated. Combine that with a real and valid fear of ripping stitches and not fully knowing or understanding the status of my Downstairs Mix-Up, I was in a bad place. Doubled over in constipation pain. My mom and Hubs went straight to work trying to find foods and medicines to help relieve my problem. Many (yummy, orange-essence) prunes were eaten. A lot of warm water with lemon juice was drank. Lots of regular water was consumed. All day, after feeding Hugo, I'd rush to the restroom and try to .. uh.. work things out. I'd always come back a defeated, hot and sweaty, crying mess. Unsuccessful, for lack of a better word. Tuesday night, Hugo woke up.

June 23

Wednesday was much the same, except without rescheduling the photographers. Pain from sitting, pain from constipation, feed baby, try to eat, try to sleep, try to stand. Wednesday night rolled around, and Hugo woke up, which was hard for me because I had been trying all day to find a good time to try a suppository. I ended up going for it in the middle of the night, hoping that between my mom and Hubs, Hugo would be cared for. Thankfully, they did work together with Hugo, and I had a long night trying to crap, feeling disgusting, drinking warm lemon water, and crying. Also note that since our bed is so high, I'd been sleeping on the couch (Hubs had been sleeping on the floor next to the Pack 'n' Play). No luck.

June 24

Thursday was a little different! We actually got his newborn photos done! The photographers were amazing, like we knew they would be (they did our engagement and wedding photos, after all), and Hugo did great too. I'm biased, but I'm pretty sure he's the most handsome baby. Aunt Mita (my sister) arrived Thursday afternoon to meet her first nephew and stay with us for a few days to get to know him. Little did she know she was entering a house of constant crying****, people covered in feces*****, and loud noises all night******. Thursday night, Hugo woke up, and I had another long night of trying different remedies, and becoming a big ball of sweat and tears. Foiled again.

June 25

Friday we had another pediatrician appointment for a weight check since his weight was a little lower than the doctor wanted at our previous appointment. His weight was much better (6 lbs, 1 oz. I'll go ahead and take all the credit for that), and I decided to man up and ask his pediatrician for advice regarding my situation. She recommended Miralax and mentioned another type of suppository. After getting back home with Hugo, Hubs went to the store to fetch the constipation goods. In the meantime, between and during feedings, I'd been texting my good friend Becca to ask her advice on the situation, and my good friend Meg (a nurse) for her suggestion for a colon cleansing. Becca's advice for working things out ended up being invaluable, and Meg suggested a certain drink to try. So I texted Hubs and asked him to pick up Magnesium Citrate along with the other items. The rest of the day went by like the previous five - in a haze of constipation and sitting pain, nursing, trying to eat and stay hydrated, and trying to find a moment to sleep, what with my my baby crying and my constant pain. Friday night, Hugo woke up. I decided to give up on trying to solve my bodily issues, and instead tried to get some sleep.

June 26

Saturday was a special day all its own, and as such, it deserves its own post.

Which will be up tomorrow.

Honorable Mentions:
Husband: for being constantly at the top of his game in washing baby dishes (pump gear and bottles), regular dishes, fetching food and medicines and other groceries, and most importantly, for not judging me in what I can only call a very dark time in my life.
My mom, MiMi: for doing all the laundry- both baby and adult; and basically teaching hubs and I what to actually do with a baby- like how to soothe one, or even bottle-feed one (I've been pumping enough milk for one bottle, so I can sleep through one at night); for helping me try to work out my internal issues with different ideas and research.
Becca, Meg, and Stephanie L: for not judging me when I texted them out of the blue about constipation, and for holding actual conversations about it and trying their best to help me through.
Hubs' Family: for supplying us with so much food and support the first week (and those following). They even came over one night, and we handed Hugo over to them, and Hubs and I napped. It was a glorious hour.
Aunt Mita: for not judging me for the sweaty, poop-deprived, hot, hormonal mess that I was.


* Replace "vacuum a room" with "eat, sleep, shower, breathe, change clothes, and talk to other adults" ** Replace "tornado" with ..well, actually "tornado" is accurate. Except it's a tiny almost-six-pound tornado that manages to rearrange your living room, your life, your schedule, and your world. Literally.
*** Replace "DIY renovation"with "pooping tornado who is completing the contract work."
**** I wish I could say it was just the baby,
***** Again, I wish I could say it was just the baby.
****** And again, I wish I could blame it on the baby.