Arkansas

The only reason I have ever gone to Arkansas intentionally is to visit my friend Micah. I was fifteen the first time I set foot in Arkansas. I was home-schooling that year (by my own choice), and my parents took me on a month-long tour of the southwestern U.S. to visit family friends. It was wonderful! Our furthest stop East was going to be in Bartlesville, Oklahoma, but I encouraged my parents to visit fellow missionary friends in Arkansas, so we drove a few extra hours into Arkansas to see our friends. They’d left Nigeria almost five years previously, so it ended up being a nice reunion.

The thing I remember most about Arkansas, though, is the way I felt driving through the mountains. It was a late wintry afternoon, with the sun barely above the horizon, and the Ozarks were hazy, as though covered in a blanket of mist. I’m a sucker for mountains, and these took my breath away. They were that gorgeous. Although this is not my own photo (http://arkansastravelnursingjobs.com/regions.html), it is exactly the way I remember the Ozarks.

So thank you, Micah, for living in Arkansas – for a couple of great visits and for introducing me to the beauty of your home state.

Lots of babies – a plea

First, let me say that I am so grateful for MOPS in all three locations I’ve attended – for wonderful people like Christine, Marcie, and Paige. They are all wonderful women of God, and I am so blessed by their leadership. It was through MOPS (and library story time)in Visalia that I met my dear friend Heather. And here in Hinesville it’s been a lifesaver with play dates and all.

I am really grateful for MOPS!

So when I found out that a young lady at my table here is having quadruplets this spring, I really wanted to help somehow. I’ve let her know I want to help in all the conventional ways – babysitting her toddler, bringing meals, buying groceries, etc. But I wish I could think of unconventional ways to help. I am open to suggestions.

Needless to say, I can’t even imagine how stressful it must be to have quadruplets, nor the pain and inconvenience related to the pregnancy. It just isn’t within my realm of comprehension. I’m having enough trouble with my two kids; what would it be like to have five kids ages two and under?

I know I have a lot of friends out there with babies, so you can relate to my feeling of being at a loss.

I know we’re all hurting for cash these days (well, most of us), so can you imagine having to buy diapers for four babies at once? We’re talking about forty diapers a day, at least at first. Uh huh. Forty.

So I am sending out a plea for coupons. I know many of us can use diaper coupons ourselves, but imagine how much this friend needs them. Would you be willing to donate one or two coupons if you receive them?

And I’m starting to collect other things, too – clothes, bibs, white onesies (all sizes), preemie clothes, etc. – so if you feel burdened for this friend of mine, please let me know. Let’s rally around my friend and make this time less stressful for her, even though you don’t know her!

Oh, and by the way, all four babies are BOYS!

Arizona

  I have lots of memories of Arizona, mostly because it is right next to California, so I’ve driven through it many times, both as a child and as an adult, although more as a child, I suppose. I’ve had great experiences and awful experiences in that state. My highlights include ice-skating when I was 15, eating at Chretin’s Mexican Food (YUM!), seeing a full rainbow over Tucson, tubing down a creek, and watching a game during Padres’ spring training when I was 11. On the other end of the spectrum are my memories of getting stuck for a week when my car broke down, getting my first and only ever traffic ticket, getting dehydrated while on a forced hike to build “teamwork” during orientation for a mission trip, and being sick at my mom’s cousin’s house. Oh yes, lots of wonderful memories.

But I think my favorite memories are those when we were camping at the Grand Canyon.

I’ve never hiked the Grand Canyon, as my sister has, but I have enjoyed it from the top.

Wow.

God certainly has an artistic flair.

When I was 18, my aunt and uncle took me camping on the North Rim, and I remember hiking along the edge one afternoon by myself, listening to a tape (yes, a cassette tape) of Christian contemporary music. It was one of those afternoons you never forget, between the scenery and the meditations…and calling my pseudo “boyfriend” in Nigeria only to have him “break up” with me on the phone.

I am laughing about it now. Oh dear. What a sorry little sap I was as a teenager. I am so thankful for God’s grace – and His sense of humor!

So yes, I have fond memories of Arizona.

(The photos were taken in January 1998 on the South Rim. The stuffed lion, TJ, went with me everywhere. Can you see I’m wearing a Wheaton sweatshirt?)

Alabama

What a difficult state with which to begin! Although I’ve been to Alabama several times, I don’t have any memories that are really worthy of a short memoir, unless you count going to the playground after dark when it was in the 40s F, without winter clothes on. That was definitely exciting.

But no, after this past Thanksgiving, when I think of Alabama, I think of my first full football game.

Granted, I did see bits and pieces of a football game when I spent Christmas with my friends the SIngers in Delaware my first year of college. But at the time, I was trying to avoid the game, concentrating much more on the people I was with.

This time, I actually tried to pay attention to the latter half of the game. Alabama was playing Auburn, and my uncle and cousins were watching the game on DVR, after our having been out all day doing Black Friday shopping.

I know zero about American football except that it’s brutal to the body and takes FOREVER. Most of the game is time between plays, which drives me bonkers. I’m of the opinion, as with real football, that games should be continuous. There should always be something to watch. But anyway, there I was, watching my first football game. I even asked a few questions as I tried to figure out what was what and how the game worked. Not that I really care, but I had nothing better to do, since Timothy was in bed already.

So I’m afraid that is my Alabama memory. In years to come, I can say I saw my first American football game, featuring Alabama, on Black Friday 2010.

And no, I will not be watching the Super Bowl!

Flexing my wings

I am sorely out of practice in writing creatively. When I was younger, most of my work was fictional, but I began to realize at first in high school and then throughout college that my best writing is actually creative nonfiction. So it made sense to try a blog. I had some great material when I first started it while I was in Nigeria, but here, I’m subject so some censorship when I write about my own life and family, so for a few weeks, I’m going to get some practice writing here with a series of posts to keep me disciplined. I have a few ideas up my sleeve, but a simple one to begin with is writing a brief piece somehow related to each of the states to which I’ve been. Since I don’t have the energy to think of any particularly interesting order in which to arrange them, I’ll just go with alphabetical. So let’s begin with Alabama.

Another day in the life of a MOP

Today is my first day of “real life,” that is, being home alone with my two kids. After spending four weeks visiting and helping me out, my mom has traveled back to Nigeria, and after paternity leave and several long weekends in a row, my husband is back to a regular schedule at work.

So how has it gone so far?

Good question.

I was supposed to be up around 0745 to run an errand but couldn’t drag myself out of bed until 0945. Our nights with Anna have been weird anyway, but especially the last few days. We’re dealing with some sort of virus in our family, and Anna’s symptoms are eating less and spitting up more. Lots of fun, let me tell you. So I was still tired when I forced myself to get up at 0945. By then, Timothy – who had probably been awake for at least an hour but who is trained to stay in bed until I tell him to get up – had gone pee-pee in his “big-boy pants” (training pants/Pull-Ups). Not a big deal, but definitely not a step in the right direction. For whatever reason, no matter how many times I tell him, he doesn’t understand that he can get up out of bed to go potty without asking or telling me. *sigh* So wet jammies into the hamper, a clean big-boy pant, and clean clothes for Timothy. Anna, meanwhile, was being a little angel and just sleeping peacefully.

We all packed into the car… Hang on. This seems like a good time to gripe about the car for a minute. Our wonderful little Forester has been great to us. It’s gotten us where we’ve needed to go and has never broken down in the middle of a drive. We’ve tried to maintain it well and spent a bundle on new tires and a new timing belt. It’s seen its share of scrapes, but it’s been a trusty little trooper.

But it has its drawbacks. We didn’t really realize these when we bought it, but now we know what will be different about the next car we buy. There are two main concerns: First, the backseat is too close to the front seat; and second, the middle belt in the rear is not retractable. These seem like tiny gripes, but they have presented a whole lot of problems to us. The most immediate of these problems is that we cannot put Anna’s carseat in the center of the back seat, where it is safest. She has to sit on either the driver’s or passenger’s side in the rear. The trouble is that because of not enough space between the rear and front seats, her carseat doesn’t actually fit on either side. It is uncomfortable for me to drive when she is behind me; I have to push my seat all the way forward, and my legs are all cramped and tight. And I’m only 5’6”. You can imagine what it’s like for David, who is 6’2”. But if I put her on the passenger’s side, when I drive and my husband is a passenger (which is often the case, since I’m a control freak when it comes to driving), it’s the passenger seat that has to go all the way forward, and my husband gets cramped. So it’s a real problem. I never would have guessed when we bought the car that there would not be enough space for a rear-facing carseat, but I guess we learn something new every day.

So there we were, somehow fitting into our car. We ran our errand and then came back home to eat breakfast. No problems there. Timothy and I were both happy, and Anna ate afterwards, so we were just peachy. Timothy sat down to watch a movie, and I – still battling this virus – also sat down at the computer to watch something while I burped Anna, knowing she would spit up in a fountain if I didn’t thoroughly burp her. I knew we needed to go to Walmart, but I also knew that we had an errand to run at noon, so I figured we’d kill two birds with one stone and go in one trip. We’d had breakfast so late I figured we could just eat a snack while we were out and then have something more substantial when we got back home mid-afternoon, before Timothy’s nap.

So around noon, we completed our errand with the car and then headed to Walmart for a mid-week shopping trip. I have started to make shopping lists, but somehow, I still end up going to Walmart pretty much every other day. But today it was serious. We are out of milk and almost out of fruit. I can hardly believe it, since I bought a whole lot of fruit just this past Friday. There must be a wormhole in our kitchen specifically for fruit…and pens. We keep losing pens.

By this time, Timothy was getting hungry, so I went through a Wendy’s drive-thru to get us a snack. Very healthy, I know, but please don’t judge me. I have a newborn and a three-year-old. After we placed our order, while we were waiting to pay, Anna woke up in her carseat and started screaming. So instead of heading straight into Walmart, I parked in an out-of-the-way space and took her out of the carseat to feed her if she was hungry. First, though, she needed a diaper change, for she was leaking. But it was drizzly outside, so I got Timothy to sit in the front seat so I’d have room in the backseat to change Anna.

And that’s when Timothy decided to be naughty. Nothing serious, but enough to drive me crazy. Now, mind you, the last two times I’ve been to Walmart with Timothy, he’s been a menace. While my mom was here, I tended to leave him at home with her during his nap and do a Walmart run on my own. But I can’t do  that anymore, so I figured I’d have to try taking him. But when he started misbehaving before we even set foot into Walmart, I knew I was doomed. So I told him if he touched the emergency brake one more time, we were going home. Don’t you know it, he touched the brake, just to see what I’d do. Well, I am true to my word when it comes to threats. I got him back into his booster seat, put Anna back in her carseat (after she’d finished her meal), and I took away Timothy’s milkshake. We were going home. Timothy immediately unbuckled himself and lunged for the milkshake in the front seat. So I told him that when we got home, I was going to have to put his carseat back in and take out the booster until he learned that he can’t unbuckle himself without permission.

The whole way home, Timothy whined that he wanted his milkshake and the book he’d dropped on the floor of the car. I told him he could have his milkshake after his nap only if he behaved. So then he said he was thirsty, so I said I’d get him a drink of water when we got home. But he said he wanted milk.

As I mentioned earlier, we have no milk.

But he didn’t believe me and started crying snd screaming that he wanted milk.

We got home, got his shoes off, and gave him a cup of water. But he refused to go potty before his nap. So he was punished and finally agreed to go potty. When I started this post at 1417, he was finally in his bed, and I heard him whining that he wanted his milkshake…

I’d forgotten another errand I had to run at 1420, so I had to get Timothy up from his bed (in which he was anything but napping) and back in the car. Ten minutes later, we were home again, and he was sent back upstairs to nap. Now, at 1510, he is singing Christmas carols, after having been in his bed over 40 minutes.

And Anna, meanwhile, has been a perfect little angel – sleeping peacefully or quietly looking around, watching everything. And she’s the one who’s sick!

Whoever said the threes are worse than the twos was definitely right. Lord, help us all.

Anna’s grand entrance

I stayed up too late on Saturday night. I’d been making a few freezer meals for after the delivery, and then I wanted to watch some of “North and South” with my husband. We’d finished the first two books and were down to the last. So I put the food away and relaxed for awhile on the couch. I’d been having false labor contractions for weeks, but that night they were more regular, about a half hour apart. Still, I was not counting on any action anytime soon when I finally got to bed around midnight.

But about 0300, I realized the contractions were regular and only ten minutes apart, and by that time they were strong enough to have woken me from sleep. So I started timing them, and I woke David to say I thought our baby would be born that day. I got up and started getting stuff ready to go to the hospital, just a few last-minute details (like posting on Facebook!). Sometime after 0400, we arrived – with Timothy in tow - in Labor and Delivery at the hospital. I was in pain but calm (which should have been a sign to me that I was not ready to be admitted yet). The nurse checked me and said I wasn’t ready to be admitted yet, that I wasn’t in active labor at that point. She kept me on observation for over an hour in any case, but nothing changed on examination, so she gave me Benadryl and Tylenol and sent me home “to rest.”

Rest.

Right.

By the time we got home from the hospital, I was in complete agony and screaming through each contraction. I literally worried about the neighbors calling the police because of my screaming. I tried to lie down and rest, but the contractions were so close together that the pain never actually went away between them, just grew and lessened in intensity. I stuffed a blanket in my mouth to deaden the sound. Somehow – due to the Benadryl, I suppose – I managed to close my eyes between each contraction for an hour or so. I had no idea when to go back to the hospital, since they’d sent me home. How was I supposed to know when I was in active labor? The contractions from the moment we arrived home already felt like they were only two or three minutes apart, but I was in so much pain I couldn’t even time them.

Finally, sometime after 0730, I told David we had to go back to the hospital. So we woke up Timothy for a second time and headed back to Labor and Delivery. This time, I had three contractions in the ten minutes between our house and the hospital, and when we arrived, I was moaning and putting all my effort into not screaming. The nice guy at the lobby desk asked me if wanted a wheelchair, but I couldn’t concentrate enough to say yes or no, so i just grimaced, walked past him to the elevators, and went up without the wheelchair. When I arrived in Labor and Delivery, it was the middle of a contraction, and somehow we got me into a bed in the triage room. I was still in my nightie and socks, wearing my glasses and everything (not like when Timothy was born, when they basically stripped me naked toward the end). The nurse examined me, announced that I was complete, and got some extra hands to rush me – in the bed - across the hall to the delivery room in the middle of a contraction. They got me into the delivery bed, the doctor rushed in, and after I screamed through another contraction, he told me the next contraction to push instead of screaming.

So I did. In the middle of the second contraction of pushing, at 0805, Anna emerged and started squawking right away. I had to ask to make sure it was a girl, since I’d been so paranoid that my baby would be a boy. Not that a boy would have been bad, but I was expecting a girl from the ultrasound, and I was just nervous that I’d gotten all these baby girl clothes for naught! :) From the time we entered the Labor and Delivery unit to the time Anna was born cannot have been more than fifteen minutes, active labor maybe an hour-and-a-half, and the grand total of painful early and active labor about five hours. Not bad.

So Anna was born at 0805 on Sunday, December 12, 2010, weighing 7 lbs 8.3 oz and measuring 20 inches long. Poor Timothy was there the whole time. He was out of the way enough to not see everything, but he experienced it nonetheless, hearing it if nothing else. He was a real trooper and has been great these past eight days!

But Anna was seen by a pediatrician right away and was sent for lab tests because of petechiae (little blood spots under her skin). That afternoon they told me her platelet level was dangerously low, and that she would have to be sent to a better hospital in Savannah.

I was terrified. When they spoke to me, I was alone. They’d put Anna in the nursery, and I hadn’t seen her in five hours. My husband had gone home to rest. I just wanted to cry. I got to hold Anna later for a half hour before they took her away in a portable incubator on a stretcher, with all her monitors and wires.

Anna has something called neonatal alloimmune thrombocytopenia, or NAIT, which basically means that her platelets have a factor from her daddy that mine don’t have, so my antibodies were attacking her platelets. If the platelets get too low, especially with the trauma of birth, she could have internal bleeding. What they really worry about first is bleeding in the brain, but her head ultrasound on Monday was clear, so her prognosis was good. And this week it has just been a matter of waiting to see if her platelet count would rise once my antibodies started to disappear from her blood. Although they went up initially and slowly, this past Friday they went down so low that the doctors had to give her IV immunoglobulin, which basically destroyed my antibodies to help boost her platelet count.

The treatment worked, and her numbers have been climbing again, today out of the extreme danger zone. Yes! If they keep rising consistently over the next few days, she will be able to come home, so that is what we are praying for. If they remain level or go down again, she may need more treatment. We just pray we are through the worst and that Anna can join us for Christmas. :)

A new place to live

Don’t get me wrong. This has been a wonderful place for us to live, a real blessing. I knew as soon as I got the email about it in June that God had prepared this place just for our specific need these past 16 weeks. I am truly grateful for the house and for our host couple next-door. That is absolute.

Having said that, and avoiding complaining in any way, I am definitely looking forward to certain features that our next home will hopefully have in contrast…or not have in some cases.

I’m looking forward to

1. a home that is not already infested with 2-inch cockroaches.
2. windows that open.
3. being able to use curtains or blinds in my living room so that I’m not living in a fishbowl and can actually wear pajamas at night in the living room and kitchen.
4. plumbing that does not leak excessively.
5. air conditioning that cools down the whole house, not just the bedrooms.
6. having empty closets, drawers, cupboards, and shelves so I can actually use that space myself.
7. taking baths again instead of just showers!! (Timothy is also looking forward to this, to be sure.)
8. a stove at countertop height instead of low-down for wheelchair accessibility.
9. grounded outlets.
10. having a carpet that does not show every single crumb that falls.
11. paying my own bills and not feeling beholden to anyone.
12. having doors that seal and thus keep out geckos and crickets.
13. not constantly having to worry about Timothy’s damaging something that is not ours.
14. getting regular Internet!

and 15. being able to decorate with my very poor taste and minimal skills, not to mention nonexistent budget! :)