My brother got married! I have a new sister-in-law!!
My brother got married! I have a new sister-in-law!!
Labor and delivery for my second baby was easier than the first, for the most part. I remember at one point my labor just slowed to a stop. The doctors finally came in and told me that I had two choices. I could stay at the hospital and they could break my water, which would kick start labor back into gear. Or I could go home and wait for labor to restart on my own. This choice was given to me at about 8am.
Rob and I discussed the options and decided that since we were already there, and we already had Darcie firmly with a babysitter, we might as well just stay put. So, the doctor broke my water at 8:45am on August 10, 1998.
That definitely worked. Labor returned with a vengeance. My son was born at 9:17am….32 minutes after they broke my water. My sweet baby boy was the only child I had that was born in the morning. Gorgeous baby boy. Robert Scott Stewart IV.
Nineteen years later, my son isn’t nearly what I expected when I dreamed of what he’d be like as a grown up. But who is?
Happy Birthday, Robbie!
I just got a notification that I reached 50 likes on here! What??! I was so surprised! You all are just awesome! Who knew people liked hearing about my weirdo family and all our psycho problems! Anyway, thanks so much for supporting my need to file away my memories. Much love to everyone!!
When Cassie was little, she was completely obsessed with her own belly button. Now, I’ve seen various kids play with tags on blankets or pillows or toys, obsessing until the tags would become frayed and worn out. Children have security blankets, sure. Children need ways to feel secure, any way they can. I’ve just never seen a kid obsess over their own belly button until Cassie came along. She was worse than Linus and his blanket! But she was so freakin’ cute that the belly button thing wasn’t really a big deal, and she eventually quit.
Years later, she had her belly button pierced and now has a variety of jewelry for that specific piercing, so maybe her obsession over her navel isn’t over?
Nichole has had her share of obsessions over the years, but that kind of goes hand-and-hand with Asperger’s. Her very first one was over teddy bears. Even as a baby, Nichole loved her bears, but most importantly she used her bears as pillows. I’m not sure she ever used a real pillow until she was 10. She preferred to sleep on her bears!
She was so obsessed with her bears that she named and numbered them! “Oh, this is Beary 4!” And she could tell you which one was what number without blinking an eye.
Nichole was the fourth baby. I was in the middle of a divorce when she was born, and I was semi-dating a guy who was more of a friend to me than anything. When I went into labor and got to the hospital, I was pretty determined to do the entire thing by myself. (What’s that saying about making plans and God laughing?)
I’m the first to admit that I’m a big baby when it comes to pain. When I was in the delivery room, in labor, I was emotional and terrified so eventually asked David to join me and hold my hand, when he happily did.
One of the nurses, an RN named Whitney, just happened to have gone to high school with me, so I was semi-embarrassed (not quite the reunion you want being in stirrups and pushing life out of your vagina) and semi-grateful because she was one of those sweet natured girls in high school and truly a wonderful nurse. The doctor, on the other hand, was ridiculous. At one point, he came in asking me if I was ready to push. I wasn’t. So he got angry and left. I never saw him again until after Nichole was born. (What a douche-bag!) I was having my fourth child. I think that entitles me to the experience of knowing when I’m ready to push and when I’m not.
When Nichole entered the world, Whitney delivered her with the assistance of two other nurses in the room. Frankly, I was pretty glad the douche-bag doctor hadn’t returned if he was going to have an attitude like that. Do you really want to anger a woman in labor? You’re likely to get kicked in the jaw!
Nichole was such a sweet little baby girl, but she did need some assistance breathing when she was born. They kept her in her incubator for 24 hours, using the oxygen hood (see photo). She was allowed to go home the following day. She came home with a bilirubin blanket (see photo), as she was also somewhat jaundiced. She had birthmarks all over her sweet face, when she was born. One on each eye lid, one above her nose, one above each ear, one on the crown of her head and one on the back of her neck. Poor baby looked like she’d been in a bar fight.
About a week or two after she was born, the doctors found her hydrocephalus, which I’ve previously posted about, feel free to search my posts for that story.
Today is the day that I find out if I have cancer or not.
And I’m terrified.
I’m terrified to hear the answer.
I’m terrified to have to say that word out loud.
I’m terrified that I’ll have to tell my children.
And all I really want to do is yell every obscenity I know. All of them. Twice.
Have you ever watched television or movies and wondered how in the hell these families
have kids that don’t constantly fight? This plagues me constantly. It hurts my heart to hear them talk about how much they hate each other. I’m well aware that siblings everywhere fight, but I can’t figure out at what point in time that all finally ends?
I have an older brother myself, but we didn’t really grow up together. The few years that we did live together as kids, I do recall the occasional arguments here and there, but he was also five years older than me. He had his friends and his life, and I wasn’t included in any of that. By the time I was 11, we no longer lived together.
These days, my kids have had their whole lives together. In the last couple of years, Darcie and Cassie have finally gotten to the point where they’re close and loving sisters. It was a long, hard road because they’re also five years apart. Stolen makeup and sibling arguments kept them going for a while but now they’re close and loving and have learned to appreciate each other.
My issue is my son’s relationship with his sisters. And the girls’ relationship with their brother. I don’t know how to solve the issue, especially when none of them are interested in making the effort. My son is almost 19. At what point do they begin to make adult relationships with their siblings?
I feel like pulling my hair out.
I included “happy sibling” photos to remind myself of the few times they were happy together….*sigh*