A few months back I was given a retiring fox hunting thoroughbred to become my horse if everything worked out between us. My very first ride on him I thought for sure he would be a good replacement for my old thoroughbred who had died 5 months prior. That first ride I remember well. I had him in halter and lead rope only and did maybe a 20 foot circle of patterns back and forth right near the pasture gate bareback, as we didn’t know how he would take to my western saddle after so many years of riding English. super successful I thought. Since our round pen access was a few miles away I needed a way to move the horse from the pasture to round pen to properly work him before we tried to do the western saddle. The next ride however I decided to try with a bit in his mouth to see how well we would do bareback but with a bit in his mouth before we ventured out of the pasture down the road. Like the first ride I remember it well but this time for the lack of success. First there was no brakes, then there was no turning then there was a dead run sprint leading into a bucking fit that dragged me along the pasture about 15 feet hanging on the reins, my back and left hand took most of the beating for that trip. When he came back to me after I let go of the reins, I got back on him bareback again and had all but 4 inches of reins gathered in hand to keep at a walk back to the gate, where I tied him for a time out while a friend bandaged me up with some of her oils and craziness that totally healed my busted hand and back. Those next few rides we did a lot of ground work before I would feel brave enough to ride him, usually topping out at 45 minutes ground time. My last ride on Jack was an eventful failure. A friend and I had managed time babysitters transport everything so we could ride last minute and actually go somewhere for a ride since she and I usually loved going on long trail rides in different scenery, that day we loaded up the husband’s truck and her trailer and our 2 old men. I vividly remember the lead up to the ride itself, similar to how someone remembers a dream. I remember gal pal Hollie and I being worried about the 2 horses trailering together for the first time, and then both loaded up like nothing at all. We got to the farm and did our ground work and it seemed like we were all having a good day, and seemed to be ready to ride in about 20 minutes. About a 3 months ago now (Feb 2015) I finally remembered the rest of the ride. We got one and started off along a field, Jack acting a bit sketchy at first. I tried to correct he’d pull a bit more. We continued on, the farm dog got to following us, I turned around chased first, came back up to Jack trying to fight to run, corrected again while Hollie tried to chase off the dog. Jack humped up, the beginning of a buck, I finally had enough of his shenanigans pulled the reigns hard to right and started kicking to get him moving forward and into a circle so he would quit. 1 hop, kept pushing with my feet to move him forward, second buck a little harder, got some clearance of my seat, pushed my feet into him and my butt in the saddle as much as a could still trying to turn right. 3rd buck gave up on feet cues, worked on hanging on and riding out the bucks. 5th buck I lost my seat completely, mashing hip bone against the horn , then over it. 6th buck, on his neck, and getting nervous, we’re getting aimed on the hillside I will lose. Jack knows he’s almost done with me. He firmly moves his back end up the hill, head sloping down and bucks 1 last time and off I come. I tucked my chin, but still managed to smack the upper back part of my head on the ground, followed by my back and butt and legs. My first thought/ view was fuzzy. Not in the can’t remember kind of way, but in the blurred vision sort of way. Hollie jumping off her horse Gus in a very slow motion matrix kinda way, trying to grab Jack’s reins as he was starting to much on the grass having successfully told me where to shove this riding craziness. Her coming to me, me being worried about the stupid horse, and arguing with Hollie that I was gonna show that son of a B!#/@ for throwing me and that I had to get back on him, and how she knew it. Me getting in Hollies face that she wasn’t gonna stop me from getting back on him to correct this. Her throwing my heavy ass saddle to the ground so I wouldn’t get back on, me getting in my grandfather in laws face because he wanted me to go get checked out. Hollie promising me that she and Gus would work the shit outta that stupid horse if I went with grandpa and met up with Aaron and went to the hospital. Me asking Aaron every 10 minutes what happened and why we were at the hospital. The god awful MRI from head to hips. Asking Aaron again what happened. Him making a crack at me doing ten second Tom impressions. Me finally coming around to full cognition about 730PM, as they were moving me to a room at the hospital for observation during the night. Me calling Hollie to talk to her and get the recap of what at that point I still didn’t remember. The next morning, me calling Jack’s previous owner to turn him back over to her, because of the wreck. The problem is now, 8 months later, and I’m still not very confident in my riding, despite having a nice little mare now that blew me away on her first ride out, also my second ride total after the wreck had a few kinks, but stuff to be expected after not being ridden for years as a broodmare. She’s kind, amazing with the kids and seems to get that I’m still not right. She’s testing me now though, and I can’t seem to shake the sudden anxiety that hits going into a correction. And am so scared of something terrible happening that I can’t hardly bring myself to go for those nice long trail rides away from home, much less out of the pasture hardly. Like all those years of riding and being a confident bad ass are just gone. I know I need to cowgirl up a bit and get myself right. I know what I should be doing when she misbehaves. But my body can’t seem to take the knowledge I have and use it without panicking. Summer’s here, and I want to ride so badly, but I need such time to get right with my head, with my mare, and everything in between.
Hey its May of like 2015. I have 4 saved draft entries since the last published post. Maybe I should get on that. So there will be some clean up and posting pretty quickly here. Today I yet again became that mom hiding from my children while eating some deliciously sinful food in the basement over the laundry room trashcan. What?! I know you all have been there. Don’t say you haven’t, unless of course you don’t have children or your children aren’t passed infant stage. Because, really once those
Fu*#ers sweet little bundles of joy are walking and can see you eat something they will want all of it. Even if they are YOUR cupcakes. That you waited in line for an hour to get from the delivery cupcake truck. Yes, yes kids, you both were with mommy but since the line was at a park I feel like that was actually us acting as 2 separate units, really. Your missions were to play nicely with the other kids whose mommies were busy with cupcakes as well without incidents that involved us leaving or an ER trip, mommy’s mission was cupcake heaven!
So as I hinted to in the last post, We had a complication come up. Not major, but it feels like it in the aftermath.
Prior to pregnancy, I being Hypothyroid am that woman who puts her freezing cold butt, feet, legs all over dear husband in bed when he’s all warm you read about on Facebook. True story.
During my pregnancy I was warmer then ever, usually sleeping on top of the covers and as close to naked as I dared to stay comfortable. So when we hit 6 days after our c section and got the Chills, I sort of assumed it was my personal bahama island feeling leaving abruptly thanks to the shift in my body’s residing fetus status change. By the time we hit the 24 hour mark of chills I was starting to feel like crap. Puked up all three bites I got of mmy PB and J sandwich I had intended on eating, and finally got out the old faithful thermometer.
101.4. GREAT! Just what I need with a newborn. So I call the Dr. Take some tylenol, then check temp again in an hour, and we’ll go from there. An hour and 650mg of Tylenol later, 101.6. FML!
The elevated temp after pain meds plus tylenol was concerning enough they brought me back into the hospital. After testing a lot of stuff in short order, I was diagnosed with infection secondary to the csection with bacteria that were both gram negative and positive. (Aka I was my own very cool under the microscope petri dish of variety, not a good thing. So I was admitted back into the hospital, this time begging to be sent back to the usually not very busy OB ward, since dear new babyy boy would be following mom since mom carries the lunch box, so to speak now while we are breastfeeding. Well the OB ward wasnt busy at all, in fact, so they didn’t have it staffed. So it was off to another ward with 2 people in isolation rooms and somebody with the beginning stage of the end with COPD hacking up lungs and half their body through the whole night. The nurses were yet again nice enough, but there definitely was not going to be any hallway walking there!!!
IV antibiotics was what Doc had ordered, which was fine and dandy, until the second night when we got our first whiff that poor Matt’s litle tummy doesn’t like mommy’s antibiotics. To the point of spewing projectile spit up about 15 minutes after feedings. Fun fun. Now here we are after our 3 day stay for IV antibiotics on oral antibiotics at day 7 of 14 days, wih a breastfeeding baby that doesn’t like mommy’s meds, bit we have made some headway in minimizing the spit up. Thank god its only for a few more days as of writing this. Next episode: The breastfeeding mama’s schedule, AKA my answer when Hubby asks what I did all day.
One week and one day ago, we got a rather rude awakening. No no, it wasn’t any more ravinous scared wild life, although my husband may say differently from his vantage point. At 4:45 AM after having contractual episodes off oand on for a month plus, I woke with a start as I was having a very fast onset and very painful contraction, followed by my water breaking. I Jumped out of the bed as I contracted, and then felt the gush as I was reaching across the bed to wake up hubby. Now for all of those out there who have compared it to peeing yourself, may I just say you were dead wrong! Maybe you were just peeing yourself hoping it would be your water breaking. That being said I found it to be not quite painful per say, but it definitely was not like peeing myself. We rushed to the hospital, and while Dr. had originally said there will not be a trial of labor based on our previous C section here at Small town Iowa hospital , and would be something to go to Omaha (an hour away) for, there I was in the wee hours doing a trial of labor since the Surgery team was already coming in for their usual shifts. I was not dilated beyond maybe 1 when I first made it to the hospital, and still had not progressed by the time Dr. Came to check me around 8. Prep for C section, here we come!
We were preped, signed our lives away, and off to surgery we went. Now for the play by play comparison of the differences between emergency surgery in a HUGE military Hospital ( Womack Army Medical Center in Fort Bragg, NC) and planned-ish C section at Small town Rural Iowa Hospital (Cass Co Memorial Hospital, IA). First off, there was not the general feeling as though I was 1 of a 100 women having a baby that day. In fact, there were a grand total of 2 babies born on 12 July 2013 at our small hospital. With the close nit feeling of small town, I actually got to pick my delivering doctor as well as the pediatric /family practice dr that would be attending my son as soon he was cut out ahead of time. The OB/ Labor and Delivery/ Nursery crew for our hospital consisted of some of the most personable women I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, with 6 of the 9 total staff members attending to me and baby at some point during the 4 days post operative stay. After the Csection I was able to hold baby and breastfeed within an hour after delivery here, where as the military hospital had me wait an excruciating long 5 hours before I could hold the baby, and had already supplemented with formula twice before I had even held him. (As a pretty big breastmilk for the first year supporter I was crushed with this, but life went on eventually.) Our all inclusive room was huge at small town hospital, as they literally just remodeled the entire L/D dept, to include a decent enough bed/ couch for Dear husband to sleep on.
Day 1 picture: to include of note the hospital gown I made for myself for after the C section before I braved real clothes.
In the midst of day 2 post Op, my parents previously scheduled visit for this past week started, so Husband went home mid morning from the hospital to get everything up to snuff before the parents and my brother, baby number two’s namesake, arrived. DJ was switched off from the inlaws to my parents and husband, along with the crazy dog being brought back to the house. In the meantime, I started to go a little stir crazy at the hospital, effectively refering to it as Exile Island while my family was here and I was in recovery mode, phase one. Not that I didn’t adore my nurses, but one can only walk the short 50 yards worth of OB/L/D dept so long before starting to go cross eyed.
When it was time to go home, I was so excited to be leaving, but a bit worried we would have another jaundice baby after DJ was subjected to the ultimate infant tanning experience at the Military hospital. Needless to say, I made a few enemies with the Nurses at the military hospital’s peds section when one tried to send me on my way while they monitored my 4 day old on a pulse ox. Can we say “No way in hell is this momma leaving, you crazy nurse?!” When I voiced this concern to little Matt’s doctor, she was kind enough to do a baseline bilirubin before we left just to see what it was and if there might be a need sooner then the 48 hour post release check to do anything. Having had one jaundiced on me before, we went into lots of open window shades and feeding round the clock ( not that one doesnt do that already with a newborn, but basically being even more sure to be oon time with the every 2 hours feedings). His bilirubin number was fairly low considering, putting him at a 40% risk category.
While our home life was its one chaos of visiting family, new baby, and all the trimmings that come with each of those factors, we were attempting to keep it as normal as we could for DJ. So far I think we have done okay in that department, but some of the sibling jealousy has reared its ugly head already. It’s funny in a way to see that swing of emotions from wanting to help an hold baby brother to the less then attractive throwing a tantrum because baby brother has to go to to the doctor.
Since I am behind in my writings here, this is where I must confess the just to get everybody updated was started last Thursday the 18th. Being late evening of the 23rd now, I do hope you’ll forgive my tardiness, and if not then well read the next entry and you’ll see why I have somewhat disappeared off the planet.
In the past few days, we’ve gotten so much done. Saturday was our baby shower, which should have been actually titled Subway catered family and friends get together with baby gifts. We liked it that way a lot actually. No diapers filled with mashed melted candy bars to sniff or guess at, no clothespins for the first person to say baby craziness, no extra bs, just the family and friends including the guys drinking beers and a few cheap decorations to indicate the celebration. In oher words, it rocked. I don’t know why we seem to think the cheap theatrical games etc all really all that necessary for a baby shower. No other social activities require the guessing of candy in diapers. But I digress.
Sunday, we were rained on rather heavily, so we took DJ to see the new prequel, Monsters University, which while it was wayyyyyy crowded, was an awesome movie that DJ (and the parents too) enjoyed pretty thoroughly. We ‘ve got several of our hospital thigs together just in case baby number 2 decides he can’t wait any longer to be born, as we’ve had contractions off and on for the last month or so. We have made it past the gestational age when big brother was born, and OB doc has us tenatively scheduled for our c section on 1 August, a week prior to our official due date. Thanks to my parents and inlaws, the crib has been purhased and assembled.
Thanks to a friend mailing my old baby clothes from NC to us, we now have a closet full of baby clothes all freshly washed and folded, and ready to go. I have all our equipment cleaned and ready for use. I have resupplied my breastpump accessories, and I think we are ready now for this kid.
In preparation for new baby’s arrival, DJ’s got a special bag of toys just for him when he comes to see us at the hospital. All the things a new big brother needs. The idea is a pinterest steal the original link beinghere. Our big brother bag has the following in it:
A new water bottle for big brother should he get thirsty when he visits
A note pad and a few new justice league themed pens/pencils
A new wallet with a few dollar bills in it for candy mahines etc at the hospital
A bottle of hand sanitizer just for DJ
2 new shirts announcing our big brother status
A carbeaner compass
And some odds and ends quiet type toys, such as silly putty, crayons and a new coloring book, and a magnadoodle toy.
I love the idea of big brother getting some stuff just for him when the baby baby baby craze hits amongst the visits. As a big sibling, I remember feeling left out becuase everybody wanted to see the new baby. So far, DJ hasnt shown too much resentment but I’d like to keep it that way.
We have been in spring for well truthfully a week or so now. And yet, here we are again with more icky weather en route. I just finally felt it was warm enough to seed my flower bed with a variety pack of wild flower and easy flower mix. I am guessing I will have to reseed after it warms up again but we shall see. Cut our bloomed tulips from in front of the deck and have them in a vase in the kitchen, pictures to come tommorow. We’re surviving, day by day. Hopefully we will get good weather soon so the gardenpalooza in the backyard can start aside from my seedlings on the porch. Also of note, my good friend has about a month and a half left before schools out (she’s a teacher) and well the two of us loose on civilization for the summer months should provide plenty of entertaining entries.
So it would seem that the rain plans to fall well for the rest of the week. But the good news is between the rain and the ant baits, all aforementioned ants are gone, yay!! The rest of the bad news, the basement has a tendency to leak during lots of rain. AKA, the north wall, and the west wall, and the southeast corner used to leak. Hubby fixed the southeast corner, the sump pump along the north wall is working fabulously, now there’s just the west wall to deal with. Well we decided last night after squeegeeing the basement next to the washer and dryer, that the now soaked box holding our fake Christmas tree is actually us doing a slow wash on the bottom half of the tree. Thinking once it dries out a bit we’ll drag it out to the porch, wash the rest of the tree down, and then buy it a new plast water safe box. The leaking basement is on the project list for this old farmhouse, we’ll eventually get to it.