The Other Shoe?

Elwood spoiled me.

Other than a few issues at birth, he was a happy, healthy baby boy, who grew into a happy, healthy, sassy toddler. He hit all of his milestones early - walked at 9 months, talked at 10 months, and making full sentences by the time he was 13 months old. Other than well baby visits, we made two sick visits to the doctor and one emergency room visit by the time he was two. There were no worries about his health or development.

I always said to my husband and family, "I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

I think Finn may be "the other shoe."

Despite a trouble free pregnancy and easy delivery, Finn started having issues at about 4 months.

Well, 3 months if I had listened to my husband. He noted that Finn's head always lolled to one side and that he never held it straight. I waved it off for a month saying he was a newborn, he didn't have good muscle control. But then others noticed it too - so I finally asked the doctor.

Finn was diagnosed with torticolis the same appointment he was diagnosed with his first ear infection. Torticolis meant that the muscles on one side of his neck were tight while the other side was loose. It was probably from his position in the womb. Luckily, we were able to correct it with 6 months of physical therapy.

But the ear infections, they kept coming. One about every 3 or 4 months. Some worse than others. He had been on antibiotics more times in the first year of his life than Elwood has been in his entire life.

He is tiny. He eats - there are days he eats more than Elwood. And I save the low calorie, low fat stuff for me. They get whole milk, butter, real yogurt - all the stuff to help fatten them up (with the doctor's okay). He has cousins that are a year or more younger than him that weigh as much as he does. His jeans fall off and when he sucks in his gut, you can see his ribs.

But all of that was okay. Now, we're facing an issue that scares me so much - it's an irrational fear that I can't control.

Finn is speech delayed and we don't quite know why. His understanding is normal, but his speech is delayed by about a year. And his pronunciation of the words he does say on a regular basis isn't the best.

We've got him in speech therapy and we're learning what to do to help him. One thing we needed to find out was if his hearing was okay after all those ear infections. We did his hearing evaluation this morning and it didn't go well. Turned out that Finn has a double ear infection which could have skewed the results, but what testing they could get done on my cranky boy showed that he is outside of the normal range. Words like "permanent hearing loss" were uttered in the same sentence with my baby's name.

It struck me deep inside with a visceral reaction. I've been a wreck all day. I didn't turn to food, but I reverted to the compulsive shopping that I do just to feel like I'm doing something. It's a habit that has caused me much trouble in my life and I have been in control of it for the past 6 months now. But today triggered it. Luckily, it was just a trip to Toys R Us, a sweater for me to wear on Easter, and take out for dinner. I scared my husband because I called him laughing and crying at the same time when I discovered that I had been wearing my shirt inside out all afternoon.

My rational self is starting to take over now. My husband said this morning that if he had an ear infection we should not do the evaluation (yes, I admitted that he was right twice in this post). My parents and other family and friends have all responded with supportive and encouraging words. I can see thru the fog of mother's guilt and fear to see that 1.) We are probably going to get a much better result when we retest in 2 weeks, 2.) Even if it is not better, the loss is minimal and my son can hear, just not at lower volumes, and 3.) In the grand scheme of things, this is a minimal obstacle to overcome.

So, if this is the other shoe, I'll face it. At least it only looks like it's a canvas sneaker and not a steel-toed work boot.

I'm Accountable - To Me

I finally started my New Year's diet a couple of weeks ago.

Like 90% of people who make New Years resolutions, I resolved to get healthy and loose weight. And, like 99% if people who make New Years resolutions, it lasted all of about a week.

But a few weeks ago, I'd just had enough. I weighed more than I did when I got pregnant with Elwood in 2005, which had previously been my highest weight. And I couldn't blame in on the kids - I lost all of my pregnancy weight, plus an additional 10 lbs. after Elwood and lost all but 5 lbs. after Finn. This wasn't baby weight - this was me. All me.

I've always eaten what I wanted when I wanted. And I have come to love to cook. I love food - it is comfort and memory and art and skill. It is the way I show love and appreciation. It is the way I deal with stress and grief. It is how I reward myself and my family and how I apologize when I feel I've been treating them badly. Happy or sad - I turn to food.

Even in my late 20's, when metabolism slowed down and I could see how things I ate were changing my body, it didn't change anything. I tried Weight Watchers a couple of times and it would work until I tried to do it on my own or something would trigger my eating and then the pounds just came back on.

After I stopped working in politics, the weight really went on. And before I thought I needed to do something about it, Elwood came along. And nursing was the best form of weight loss I had ever seen.

A year later, I got pregnant with Finn and went thru the cycle again. And I lost almost all the baby weight again. I started to fit into my pre-Elwood clothes. But that didn't last.

So I justified it. I was Mommy - it didn't matter if I was fat. As long as I was taking care of them, whatever else I did was okay. There would be time later to fix this.

But at 193 lbs (yes, I know that I just admitted that - sucks to see it here, but it's the truth), I wasn't being the best Mommy or wife or person I could be. I was tired and lethargic. I hate my body and wanted to keep in wrapped up in flannel pjs all the time - and I mean all the time. Even my old fat clothes didn't fit - thank God my Auntie DiDi worked at a Lane Bryant so at least I could wear things that didn't make me look as awful as I felt.

So, a couple of weeks ago, I hit my limit. I don't want to be skinny. I don't want to be the weight all the charts say I should be - I don't think it's right for my body type anyways. So far, I'm lucky that there aren't any health consequences for my lack of attention to diet and exercise. But I'm sure that would have been in my near future.

I'm doing old fashioned calorie counting and exercise. I don't feel deprived - I can eat what I want, but I'm more conscious of the serving sizes and preparation. And there have been a couple of days where I went over my target, but there have been days I was under my target too, so I figure it all will even out in the end.

And the exercise - that's the big surprise. I hate to exercise. I've had gym memberships that were just a huge waste of money. I avoid going to the park specifically to walk - I make sure there's a sizable break where the kids play. The treadmill my husband got me years ago hadn't been used by me for years. But now - I LOVE IT! I don't know if it's that my body had been craving the activity or that I get a guaranteed 30 minutes to myself almost every night, but it's been fabulous. I look forward to it. I am starting to insist that it's part of the schedule.

(And my husband is all for this by the way - he tells me that he loves me and that I'm beautiful when I'm fat and when I'm not, but I know he's happy about this change in my attitude.)

So, as of week two, I'm down almost 6 lbs. And I've got my first goal in sight - that black pencil skirt I got for Christmas. It will go great with the fabulous shoes my Mom just bought me - I see a Mad Men-esque Easter outfit in my future.

I also see a summer where I won't want to change out of my bathing suit immediately after getting out of the pool. I see walking in the park to walk and if it's not to walk, I see a session on the treadmill later that night. I see teaching my children good habits now rather than have them learn later because I get sick. I see pulling some of those old lacy things out of the back of my pajama drawer (and that's all I'm going to say ;-) .)

I see the me that I not only want to be but need to be.

Proof of Life

So much surrounding Elwood's actual birth is blurry. After 24 hours in the hospital and 19 in labor, I was exhausted. When my doctor came in the check me and I still hadn't progressed beyond 6.5 cm, he called it.

Quickly, I was prepped for a c-section. The combination of drugs and nerves had given me the shakes and made me nauseous. I had lost all track of time. I knew my husband was scrubbing up, but it felt like forever until he was next to me in the operating room. The nurses and anesthesiologist were amazing, but I had never had surgery before and I was about to have my first child, so there was no calming me.

The started the procedure and explained what was happening. All I could do was cry and try desperately to focus on my husband. I had been warned that with a c-section, the baby may not cry immediately. But cry he did - loud and clear. Elwood had been perfectly happy where he was and now he was pissed off.

As they held up my 8 lb. 12 oz. first born so that I could see him over the drape, a small drop of blood fell onto the cloth. They wrapped him up and brought him to me so I could see and kiss him and than he and Todd were gone.

After that, I kept my eyes trained on that drop of blood. I willed my eyes to focus on it. Everything was surreal and fuzzy, but there, there was my proof - proof of the life I had just brought into this world.

I regret that my recollection of Elwood's birth and the first hours of his life are a hazy jumble in my mind. But I will always remember seeing him for the first time and focusing on that drop of blood that proved that he wasn't a dream.

I'm A Bad, Bad Blogger

Hello old friend, my blog. How are you?

You probably think I had forgotten about you, but I haven't. I've written things to post on you several times in the past 6 months. You don't believe it, but I have. I think about you often.

I'm going to be a better blogger. I promise. We'll spend more time together and I'll post pictures on you and the things I write down on paper will be transferred onto you. In fact, as proof, I'll post what I wrote for Elwood's birthday, even though that was 3 months ago.

Be back soon,
Cara