There was a brief dark moment in our lives not so terribly long ago. I had just left college and was battling severe insomnia, which is much more than just not sleeping well. On top of that, our landlord had just sold our rental unit, we had less than 30 days to move, and TJ got laid off from his job.
To sort of escape for a few days, TJ and I decided to take a trip to see my father in my hometown. While there, we decided to eat at one of my favorite bbq joints. I ordered what I always did... but I couldn't stomach it. It smelled horrible. As a matter of fact, everything smelled horrible- and I could smell everything. One of my relatives joked that I must be pregnant. Ha! Not possible.
Two days after we returned from our trip, I woke up and felt... something. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what the issue was but I certainly felt different, somehow. I was on autopilot when I took a pregnancy test, fully expecting it to be negative. I even remember asking myself what the hell I was doing. So there I sat on the edge of the tub, a 3 year old Adrian perched outside the door. TJ was still sleeping soundly a few rooms away. Two little pink lines popped up almost instantly... and I almost hit the floor.
I didn't tell TJ. I made an appointment with a midwife- I didn't even tell the receptionist. The next day, ready to go to my appointment, I finally broke down and told TJ I thought I might be pregnant. I didn't think a person could turn so white. At the office, I finally told the nurse about my positive test and she immediately had me take another one. That, too, was positive. It was official: I was pregnant with my second child.
My first trimester was intense. Morning sickness hit this time too, although not nearly as awful with Adrian. I had my first ultrasound at 6 weeks. There was this tiny little bean connected to a tiny little blob. I stared at the print of it for hours in amazement that that tiny little being had a heartbeat, was my baby. TJ and I created this beautiful little life, this family. How profound is that?
This will certainly sound horrible, but I dreaded having another boy. By that point, I knew this was probably my last child and I desperately wanted a little girl. I struggled to come to terms that that wouldn't happen. I convinced myself I was having a little boy and we named him Julian Dean. Amazingly, TJ got called back to work... the day of my ultrasound. I went in alone, already shaken and dreading being by myself when I was told one of my biggest dreams wouldn't happen. Awful, I know.
On the ultrasound screen, my little baby was curled up tight but appeared to be healthy. I wouldn't be finding out the gender that day. I was devastated. After getting cleaned up, the nurse realized how hurt I was and offered to try again. This time, there my little one was, stretched out and proud as could be. "See that little butterfly-looking area? There's your girl," the technician said. I bawled all the way out the door. Back home, my mother and sister were anxiously waiting, as they also desperately wanted a little girl running around. I tried my best to keep a straight face, to not get hysterical. I handed my mother a gift bag containing a little football and a sports themed card. Inside read, "Remember, girls can play sports too. Love, Bella Jo". TJ still didn't know what we were having; I didn't want to tell him over the phone so I told him I didn't find out and had to go back another day. That night, I showed him all the ultrasound pictures of our baby all curled up. At the very last photo, I blurted out, "And here is your beautiful daughter." Beautiful, indeed.
The rest of my pregnancy was hard. I had a pinched nerve in my hip and walking was excruciating. I still suffered from severe insomnia. My midwife went on maternity leave to deliver her twins and I got stuck seeing the idiot who delivered Adrian for a few months. He was not invested in my pregnancy and didn't seem to care very much about my health. The baby wouldn't move for extended periods of time and it scared me senseless. I charted everything for months- every kick, every hiccup. There were even a few terrifying instances where we couldn't pick up a heartbeat.
Around midnight on February 23, I started having regular contractions. My midwife, newly returned from maternity leave, determined I was definitely in early labor. As the day went on, contractions still very regular, it was obvious I was not going to go into active labor on my own. At 4:30pm I was admitted to the hospital and my water was broken. Hard labor started immediately. My contractions were right on top of each other and incredibly intense. I got in the laboring tub for about 15 minutes before a nurse who had heard my screaming came in saying it shouldn't be this hard or this fast yet. I had to get out to be checked by my midwife. I could see from the look on her face that she was shocked. We were ready to roll NOW. TJ almost missed it because he had been outside calling family. At that point, I sort of just went inside my own head. I followed my body's lead and let it do what it was meant to do. It was a beautiful natural delivery that was even more than I hoped for. I have never been more proud of my body.
At 6:31pm on February 23, 2010, Isabella Joanne entered this world, weighing in at 9 pounds and 9 ounces. She had gorgeous blue eyes and dark blond hair. She was and still is perfectly healthy. The second she was put on my chest, we made eye contact and my entire world fell into place. This little girl finished the puzzle of our family. I never knew I could fall in love like that.
Today, Bella is 2 and a half years old and the center of my world. She is unbelievably smart and sassy. She is a tomboy that loves anything that sparkles, dressing up, running around after her big brother and snuggling up with her mama. I absolutely adore her. After all, she was my dream come true.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
My Journey to Motherhood: Adrian Lewis
I took some unexpected turns on my journey to motherhood. Hell, I even ended at my destination years sooner than I planned. I'd always wanted to become a mother- oodles of children with thick, dark hair. Growing up, I could never pinpoint exactly what career I wanted, where I wanted to live... but I knew I wanted children.
And then my dream came true- in a much different way than I had anticipated. I was 15, 9 months into my relationship with TJ. Something wasn't "right" so I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor. Every test I took, at home and in the doctor's office, was negative. Everybody was at a loss for what could be wrong so I had blood taken on a Friday afternoon. I was instructed to call back Monday morning for the results and should they be negative, I was to start a new birth control that day. Monday morning came. I'd convinced myself I wasn't pregnant and clutched the pack of pills, ready to take one the second I hung up the phone. "Congratulations, Erica. You're definitely pregnant," I heard. Well, then.
My first trimester was an absolute roller coaster. TJ and I briefly split because he needed to mentally prepare himself, as he initially wasn't supportive of my decision to have the baby. Then morning sickness hit, oh lord, did it hit. I lost 23 pounds in a month and became so severely dehydrated that I almost put myself into a coma and lost the pregnancy. I couldn't even walk on my own anymore. I eventually ended up in the hospital at 10 weeks, with the health and safety of my baby still up in the air. My doctor wondered if I was pregnant with twins, even. Thankfully everything turned out alright for both of us... and thankfully there was just one baby in there!
My second trimester was a breeze and my mother had me convinced I was bringing a sweet little girl into the world. She "just knew" and I trusted her. I wouldn't say I was hoping for a girl; I just had this vision of my daughter growing in my womb. We even named her Ellie, watched her flip around like crazy at an ultrasound at 13 weeks. I was in love. I went in for my 20 week ultrasound, so excited to have the gender officially established. My mother came with me, bubbling over with excitement, even telling the technician about her granddaughter.
"Here HE is," the tech said, pointing to something that was not a third arm. I thought my mother was going to hit the floor. I thought I was going to hit the roof. A son. A SON! I went straight out and bought a card that spelled "BOY", slipped it in a pink envelope and handed it to TJ (it was his birthday; he assumed it was a birthday card. But no, I gave him the best birthday present a man could ask for instead!) When it finally hit him, he started blurting out sports talk. They would play hockey. He would teach him about baseball. It was beautiful.
My third trimester was incredibly unpleasant. I had severe swelling- I'd actually gained 75 pounds, which all but 10 was water retention! I couldn't breathe at night. I couldn't eat anything. I was miserable. At 6am on March 10, I started having regular contractions. I was scheduled for induction at 9am the next morning because he guessed the baby was getting too large. My doctor wanted me to come in that night instead to be on the safe side, in case I went into active labor on my own. And I did. Around 3am on March 11, I started having very strong contractions. My doctor, for some idiotic reason, decided to start pitocin, despite the fact that I was doing well on my own. The pain became absolutely unbearable and I was given 2 shots of Demerol, 3 paracervicals, and an intrathecal (an epidural of sorts). I was so drugged up that I repeatedly stopped breathing. I also couldn't stay awake through my labor and most of my delivery. It was a traumatic experience and mostly a blur that resulted in me having a severe reaction and put me back in the hospital two days after I left it. I was also unable to breastfeed. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.
At 9:18am on March 11, 2006, my due date, Adrian Lewis came into the world screaming his little heart out. The first words out of my mouth were, "He's BLOND!" My little (big) man weighed in at 8 pounds and 2.4 ounces. He had huge, crystal blue eyes and looked just like his daddy. He was absolutely perfect.
Today, Adrian is an incredibly smart, crazy, rock and roll loving 6 year old. He says and does the craziest things and he is so sweet and loving. My journey to motherhood must have had all the right detours because I ended up with this little guy and that is just a blessing.
And then my dream came true- in a much different way than I had anticipated. I was 15, 9 months into my relationship with TJ. Something wasn't "right" so I scheduled an appointment to see a doctor. Every test I took, at home and in the doctor's office, was negative. Everybody was at a loss for what could be wrong so I had blood taken on a Friday afternoon. I was instructed to call back Monday morning for the results and should they be negative, I was to start a new birth control that day. Monday morning came. I'd convinced myself I wasn't pregnant and clutched the pack of pills, ready to take one the second I hung up the phone. "Congratulations, Erica. You're definitely pregnant," I heard. Well, then.
My first trimester was an absolute roller coaster. TJ and I briefly split because he needed to mentally prepare himself, as he initially wasn't supportive of my decision to have the baby. Then morning sickness hit, oh lord, did it hit. I lost 23 pounds in a month and became so severely dehydrated that I almost put myself into a coma and lost the pregnancy. I couldn't even walk on my own anymore. I eventually ended up in the hospital at 10 weeks, with the health and safety of my baby still up in the air. My doctor wondered if I was pregnant with twins, even. Thankfully everything turned out alright for both of us... and thankfully there was just one baby in there!
My second trimester was a breeze and my mother had me convinced I was bringing a sweet little girl into the world. She "just knew" and I trusted her. I wouldn't say I was hoping for a girl; I just had this vision of my daughter growing in my womb. We even named her Ellie, watched her flip around like crazy at an ultrasound at 13 weeks. I was in love. I went in for my 20 week ultrasound, so excited to have the gender officially established. My mother came with me, bubbling over with excitement, even telling the technician about her granddaughter.
"Here HE is," the tech said, pointing to something that was not a third arm. I thought my mother was going to hit the floor. I thought I was going to hit the roof. A son. A SON! I went straight out and bought a card that spelled "BOY", slipped it in a pink envelope and handed it to TJ (it was his birthday; he assumed it was a birthday card. But no, I gave him the best birthday present a man could ask for instead!) When it finally hit him, he started blurting out sports talk. They would play hockey. He would teach him about baseball. It was beautiful.
My third trimester was incredibly unpleasant. I had severe swelling- I'd actually gained 75 pounds, which all but 10 was water retention! I couldn't breathe at night. I couldn't eat anything. I was miserable. At 6am on March 10, I started having regular contractions. I was scheduled for induction at 9am the next morning because he guessed the baby was getting too large. My doctor wanted me to come in that night instead to be on the safe side, in case I went into active labor on my own. And I did. Around 3am on March 11, I started having very strong contractions. My doctor, for some idiotic reason, decided to start pitocin, despite the fact that I was doing well on my own. The pain became absolutely unbearable and I was given 2 shots of Demerol, 3 paracervicals, and an intrathecal (an epidural of sorts). I was so drugged up that I repeatedly stopped breathing. I also couldn't stay awake through my labor and most of my delivery. It was a traumatic experience and mostly a blur that resulted in me having a severe reaction and put me back in the hospital two days after I left it. I was also unable to breastfeed. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.
At 9:18am on March 11, 2006, my due date, Adrian Lewis came into the world screaming his little heart out. The first words out of my mouth were, "He's BLOND!" My little (big) man weighed in at 8 pounds and 2.4 ounces. He had huge, crystal blue eyes and looked just like his daddy. He was absolutely perfect.
Today, Adrian is an incredibly smart, crazy, rock and roll loving 6 year old. He says and does the craziest things and he is so sweet and loving. My journey to motherhood must have had all the right detours because I ended up with this little guy and that is just a blessing.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
A New Life: TJ
I was 15, new to this little town that was absurdly different from what I'd always known. One main road straight through, hardly any fun to be had if you weren't of legal drinking age. When I moved here I vowed to myself I would make different choices, take some chances, come out of my shell a little... or a lot. I left behind the only life I've ever known- decade old friendships, my first love, a city that was alive and crawling with promise. But here? No. Fun was limited, if it even existed at all. The teenagers of this town hung out by the Mighty Mississippi River or cruised down that sad, lone main street for hours. And that is how I met my husband. Sort of.
See, it gets complicated from here so just bear with me, please. My cousin and I were doing what we always did- driving around. We ended up in the parking lot of the local Wal-Mart and, of course, were catcalled. My cousin, being the wonderful pain in the ass that she is, gave this group of guys MY number. And of course they later called it, wanting us to meet up with them at a labor hall. Remember how I vowed that I would come out of my shell and take some chances? Well, I did just that. We didn't hesitate to jump in the car, so much so that I didn't even bother to find any shoes.
We pulled into this little alley between a bank and the labor hall. There stood the same group of guys and a few others, waiting for us. We talked through my window, bullshitting about random things.We never intended to park the car, to get out. Our whole trip there was based on the intention of messing with their heads a little and leaving. We were young with no curfew; why not? But of course we ended up getting out because that's how these things work.
So there I am standing on a cold gravel parking lot, stupidly not wearing any shoes and freezing my arse off on a random October night, when I saw him. This short, skinny little guy with shaggy brown hair and a reddish goatee with a cigarette hanging from his lips walked up to me. He slipped off his white Adidas shoes and told me to wear them. Being a totally sane person, obviously I took this random strangers shoes- because that isn't disgusting, right?
We headed into the bar portion of the labor hall to continue the bullshitting. I learned this hero who saved my poor feet from doom was named TJ... and that's about the only thing I learned before a very jealous girl who didn't want her crush talking to another girl made a scene with the bartender. Not wanting any trouble, I thanked TJ, slipped off his shoes and left with my cousin. I assumed that would be that. I would never see TJ again.
We were barely in the door at my house when the phone rang. It was TJ and his friend, who my cousin knew already. They got my number from the group of guys my cousin gave it to. We decided to meet back up, drive around. We ended up playing air hockey at Wal-Mart in the middle of the night and visiting other random people I didn't know. TJ and I flirted all night and I eventually got his number. Me being so shy, I knew I would never call him. I didn't have the balls to. But it was a fun night, at least.
Days went by and I couldn't get TJ out of my head. He looked at me in a way I hadn't yet experienced. I couldn't forget those eyes and that slight smile he got when he caught me looking over at him. And so I (say it with me) came out of my shell and took the chance and I actually called him. He answered, said he'd been wanting to get a hold of me, we should get together again...
In just over a month, we will celebrate our 8th anniversary and our 1st wedding anniversary. A few months after that, we celebrate the birthdays of our two children. The bartender from the labor hall attended our wedding reception. Oh, and the guy who originally got my number from my cousin in the Wal-Mart parking lot? He was the best man at our wedding. I still steal TJ's shoes, too. Ah, fate.
See, it gets complicated from here so just bear with me, please. My cousin and I were doing what we always did- driving around. We ended up in the parking lot of the local Wal-Mart and, of course, were catcalled. My cousin, being the wonderful pain in the ass that she is, gave this group of guys MY number. And of course they later called it, wanting us to meet up with them at a labor hall. Remember how I vowed that I would come out of my shell and take some chances? Well, I did just that. We didn't hesitate to jump in the car, so much so that I didn't even bother to find any shoes.
We pulled into this little alley between a bank and the labor hall. There stood the same group of guys and a few others, waiting for us. We talked through my window, bullshitting about random things.We never intended to park the car, to get out. Our whole trip there was based on the intention of messing with their heads a little and leaving. We were young with no curfew; why not? But of course we ended up getting out because that's how these things work.
So there I am standing on a cold gravel parking lot, stupidly not wearing any shoes and freezing my arse off on a random October night, when I saw him. This short, skinny little guy with shaggy brown hair and a reddish goatee with a cigarette hanging from his lips walked up to me. He slipped off his white Adidas shoes and told me to wear them. Being a totally sane person, obviously I took this random strangers shoes- because that isn't disgusting, right?
We headed into the bar portion of the labor hall to continue the bullshitting. I learned this hero who saved my poor feet from doom was named TJ... and that's about the only thing I learned before a very jealous girl who didn't want her crush talking to another girl made a scene with the bartender. Not wanting any trouble, I thanked TJ, slipped off his shoes and left with my cousin. I assumed that would be that. I would never see TJ again.
We were barely in the door at my house when the phone rang. It was TJ and his friend, who my cousin knew already. They got my number from the group of guys my cousin gave it to. We decided to meet back up, drive around. We ended up playing air hockey at Wal-Mart in the middle of the night and visiting other random people I didn't know. TJ and I flirted all night and I eventually got his number. Me being so shy, I knew I would never call him. I didn't have the balls to. But it was a fun night, at least.
Days went by and I couldn't get TJ out of my head. He looked at me in a way I hadn't yet experienced. I couldn't forget those eyes and that slight smile he got when he caught me looking over at him. And so I (say it with me) came out of my shell and took the chance and I actually called him. He answered, said he'd been wanting to get a hold of me, we should get together again...
In just over a month, we will celebrate our 8th anniversary and our 1st wedding anniversary. A few months after that, we celebrate the birthdays of our two children. The bartender from the labor hall attended our wedding reception. Oh, and the guy who originally got my number from my cousin in the Wal-Mart parking lot? He was the best man at our wedding. I still steal TJ's shoes, too. Ah, fate.
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