Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Eau de Spit Up

A couple months back Mark made me aware that I had a permanent new smell.  It seems, which was news to me, that I now consistently smell like spit up.  I went in for a hug and asked my darling hubby if he liked the smell of my new body wash.  He informed that he couldn't smell it.  He could just smell milk.  Sour milk aka spit up to be exact.  I, feeling quite embarrassed, apologized and backed away.  He laughed and pulled me back in stating, "It's all good.  I kind of like it in a weird way!"  God love him, he's a great liar!  At least, that is what I was thinking at the time.  I was well aware that I have had a few instances where Benny had dosed me with his scent as if marking his territory, but I didn't think it was a constant fragrance!

A few mornings ago, I had an epic bout of being dosed with baby fluids.  It all started as I was beginning my day in the best way possible.  I was lying in bed feeding Benny.  It was time to switch sides, so I popped him up on my belly before putting him on the other side.  We were chest to chest, and he was lifting his little head up looking me straight in the eyes smiling and cooing away.  It was a perfect moment.  Not only was I so proud of him for holding his head up so well, but he was just so darn cute and happy my heart nearly burst with love!  Then, it happened.  He let loose pretty much every sip of milk he had just eaten all over my face, in my mouth, eyes, and hair, and all over the pillow behind my head.  Mind you, he never stopped smiling through all of this.  I know, I know... It seems impossible for someone to smile while puking, but little man has it down!  I laughed, because what else do you do at that point?  I cleaned Benny up and laid him to the side so I could clean myself and the bed up as well as I could at that point.  As I was swabbing little chunks of milk from my hair, I heard it.  It was the ominous sound of a baby fart that was not JUST a fart.  It was...well...more to say the least.  I, laughing once again, took Benny in to his room to change his larger than life diaper.  When I opened it up, it was bad.  I mean, REAL bad.  I'm just gonna be blunt.  There was poop EVERYWHERE!  He had it on his junk, up towards his belly button, and all the way up his back. Awesome.  Pure Awesome.  Just as I was finishing up the last little bit of wiping feces off of my giggling baby, Mark walked in.  I was laughing and telling him about the morning I had had so far.  This story took my focus off the naked baby butt my hand was in front of just long enough for round 2.  Round 2, the 2nd bout of explosive poo, went all over the changing table, the new diaper, and my hand.  You can't make this stuff up...

Needless to say, I decided a bath was the appropriate course of action at this point.  I threw all the soiled items in the bin, and ran him a bath.  Baths are Benny's favorite time of day, so he grew an even bigger smile on his face as I lowered him in.  So cute, so sweet, so smiley, and so began peeing all over the place.  In the course of 45 minutes, I had been puked on, pooped on, and now peed on as well.  It wasn't even 8am.

Later that evening, Mark and I were getting ready to go to one of our many holiday parties.  I had changed my clothing twice at this point due to Benny, once again. spitting up all over me.  I was laughing because I had put so much effort into getting ready.  I was determined to smell good.  Now, I simply smelled like perfumey spit up.  When we got to the party, I thought I had successfully derailed the stinkiness.  No such luck.  I looked down and realized my pants had a huge dried, stinky spot of baby juice all over the right thigh.  A few moments later, my loving little man decided that my shirt needed to match my pants and I was christened once again.  Lovely.

In the midst of all this, I began joking about it with my mommy friends.  I heard over and over, "You will miss that smell someday!"  Is that possible?  Do you actually get to the point where you miss the smell of sour breast milk?  I was skeptical.

That night I was lying in bed.  Benjamin had been asleep for a few hours already and I was exhausted.  I was thinking about what a sweet little man I had.  How good he had been through all of our holiday parties.  All of his smiles, his giggles, and how he just eats up the attention from anyone that wants to love on him.  I am so blessed to have such a special little guy was all I could think.  While I was thinking this, I grabbed my pillow and snuggled in.  At that moment, I realized that I never remembered to wash my pillowcase after the epic morning of baby fluids I had experienced.  It was funny.  I didn't get grossed out.  I smiled because I understood.  In a weird way, I kind of liked it. I held my pillow a little closer and fell fast asleep.

Monday, December 23, 2013

Christmas Kindness

It's amazing how a new baby makes Christmas seem a million times more magical again!  I am more excited for Christmas this year than I have been in a long time.  I mean, I am ALWAYS excited for Christmas, but this year has a little something extra.  However, despite all my excitement surrounding Christmas, I did find myself getting a little frazzled today.

I had to do some last minute Christmas shopping, true to form, so I headed up to Meijer.  While I was there, Benny was a perfect angel, as always.  He WAS a perfect angel, that is, until I got in line to check out.  This was my first moment experiencing the feeling of being the mom with the screaming child at the store.  Out of nowhere he just started fussing.  I grabbed his bottle,  but this seemed to do no good.  He was fussing and immediately began spitting up all over himself.  While I was trying to calm him down, I was mean mugging the two ladies in front of me who had been trying to figure out the self-scan machine for approximately twenty minutes.  I began contemplating a line jump, but I knew that would inevitably lead to me getting stuck behind an extreme couponer or something of the sort.  Anyhow, when it was finally my turn I noticed that the guy behind me had two items in his hands: diapers and milk.  I, with the full cart and the screaming baby I was attempting to calm as I was beginning to check out, decided to let him go ahead.  Let's be honest, we both knew I was gonna be a while.  After he left, I started checking out and Benny started screaming louder and louder.  I finally got to the end of my items and was attempting to pay.  I swiped my card, hushed Benny, and tried to start bagging my items when the machine beeped.  My card was declined.  I tried again, knowing I had plenty of money in my account.  I swiped the card, hushed the baby, attempted to bag and again heard the ominous beep.  The lady behind me was looking highly irritated.  Suddenly, this lovely lady that reminded me greatly of Loni Love came up and started calming Benny.  She smiled at me and said, and  I quote this precisely, "Honey-Child, I'm gonna bag your groceries for you and smile at this baby.  You go on and get your money figured out and don't you worry a thing about those people behind you."  I almost cried.  Ok, that's a lie.  I was already tearing up from the stressful situation I had found myself in, but more tears came out due to the immense gratitude I felt for this lady.

Finally, after just deciding to use my credit card, and realizing I hadn't paid for the beer in my cart and had to put it back (the one thing I was really looking forward to when I got home), I was done.  I wanted to hug Loni Love like she was my long lost sibling, but I refrained and gave her a very sincere "Merry Christmas" with a "Thank You" on top.  As I pulled the cart away from the check-out, Benjamin instantly fell asleep.  Literally, he immediately stopped crying and passed out the SECOND I headed away from the check out.  I couldn't help but giggle through my tears.

After this, I headed to the dollar store to pick up wrapping paper, bows, and all the stuff to go with it.  Left there, and walked over to Subway to pick up dinner.  As soon as I walk into Subway, there's a lady running behind me with my bag I left at the dollar store.  She hands it to me and says, "You forgot your bag, and I didn't want you to have to run back out with that adorable baby!".  Yup, waterworks again...

It's the little kindnesses in this world that can make your day, your week, or even your season.  Thank you lady that looked a lot like Loni Love and other lady that kind of looked like my Mamaw.   Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!!!

Monday, December 9, 2013

Thankful for Contentment

You hear so much flack given to people who seem to complain about their lives all year long, and then find time to be thankful for things around Thanksgiving.  While I agree that it can be comical, I don't think there's anything wrong with it.  Sometimes people need something to remind them of the things they do have to be thankful for.  Isn't it better to be thankful when reminded to never be thankful at all? I think so.

I tend to be a pretty happy and upbeat person.  I am a huge believer in the power of one's thoughts.  I truly, TRULY believe that your thoughts can mold your reality.  For this reason, I like to try and be thankful for the blessings I have in life everyday.  I'm not saying I always excel at this, but I do always try.  I try to dwell on the positive and not the negative.  I try to think about all the positive things going on in my life, and not the massive amount of hospital bills we have from Benny being in the NICU.

Despite this daily quest to try and count my blessings whenever possible, I have lived most of my life with a feeling of restlessness.  I felt like I was always waiting on something.  Do you remember that feeling that you used to have as a child when December rolled around?  It was a feeling of anxiousness and excitement!  You were so excited for Christmas to come that every day leading up to it was just an obstacle you had to get through before getting to enjoy the bounty of bliss that arrived on Christmas morning.  For some reason, this is how I have felt most of my life.  I felt like every day was an obstacle I had to get through as I worked towards something else.  I felt like I was waiting for my life to start.  For almost 33 years, I had this feeling of discontent.  This feeling of restlessness.  This feeling of waiting for something, but having no idea what it was or when it was coming.

My own personal quote that lives underneath my Senior yearbook picture is, "Never spend today rushing tomorrow, or all your yesterdays will be a blur."  I thought I was pretty darn clever coming up with that.  I think it was my own self-fulfilling prophecy.

The moment Benjamin was born, this feeling completely went away.  I know it sounds cheesy, but it was honestly as if everything in my life was complete.  I wasn't waiting for life anymore, I was living it.    It is, by far, the most amazing feeling.  I am not saying I feel like my life is perfect, I am just saying that this feeling of restlessness, of waiting, instantly subsided.  Thank God for that!!!


Thursday, November 21, 2013

Milestones

In the first year of a baby's life, there are a TON of milestones they are supposed to hit.  There are things like rolling over, following sounds with their eyes, picking up toys, and the list goes on and on.  These  milestones are important parts of a baby's development and are a good indicator of potential developmental delays.  Ever since we found out that Benny was rockin' an extra chromosome, we have been told how he will most likely be a little slower hitting these milestones.  This, honestly, has never bothered me with the exception of a few moments I experienced recently.  I'll get to that in a minute...

When the doctors at the hospital starting talking about Benny's potential developmental delays with Mark and I, it was pretty flipping hilarious if you ask me.  The doctor told us very delicately that Ben would probably not walk until he was at least two years of age.  Mark and I, true to our nature, started laughing.  We immediately knew what the other was laughing about, but the doctor had no clue.  Mark then spoke up and said, "We have no clue whatsoever when a baby is supposed to start walking, so we would have never known the difference until someone told us!"  

I am the baby of my family, and Mark and his siblings are very close in age.  For this reason, neither one of us has ever spent any significant time around babies.  As a matter of fact, Ben is the first newborn baby Mark has ever held.  I think that's pretty dang special.  Take all this into account, and the fact that Ben is our first child, and you can understand why we don't know much about the milestones of small children.  To be honest, we don't know much about babies or kids at all!  We definitely know more now that we did three and a half months ago, but we are still pretty ignorant. 

Anyway, we went to meet with the doctor that will be Benny's Down Syndrome specialist for the first time this week.  She went through a lot of information with us, and most of it was about...once again...milestones.  We got all good news throughout the appointment.  She obviously can't tell much at this point, but what she could tell was very positive. Benny is a healthy little man!!  However, once we got our paperwork at the end of the appointment I noticed it said "severe hypotonia" under his diagnosis.  Hypotonia is a fancy name for low muscle tone, which is the norm for babies with Down Syndrome.  Now, I already knew this but for some reason it sent me back to something that happened a few weeks before.

I have a few friends that had babies right around the same time I had Ben.  My best friend's little girl, Addison, is almost exactly a month older than Ben.
Miss Addison and Benny

 I was playing with her and I couldn't help but notice how solid she was.  She's holding her head up all by herself with almost full control!  Now, this worried me for a moment because Ben can't hold his head up much at all yet, but Addison is a month older so I shrugged it off.  Then, the next day, we were hanging out at Mark's buddy's house.  Him and his wife had just had a baby girl, Viviana, two weeks before Ben.  First of all, these little girls are way too cute and I totally have bow envy.  I might have to put one or two on Ben when Mark's not looking!!  Anyhow, I digress.  While playing with Viviana I realized how much stronger than Ben she was as well.  This, was my moment.  I had heard from so many people, so many times about how Ben was going to be a little slower hitting these milestones.  Hearing it, however, is very different from when you actually notice it.

Viviana and Benny
It's not like I had a breakdown and starting screaming "WHY GOD, WHY?!!?" at the ceiling or anything, but I did have a moment.  It just kind of gave me a lump in my throat.  My son will be behind other kids.  He will be...slower.  I don't know why it hit me funny, but it just did.

Looking at that page that said, "Severe Hypotonia",  I suddenly remembered that feeling I had holding Vivi.  It wasn't a scared feeling, or a sad feeling per se, it just was a realization.  Ok, maybe a little scared, but definitely not sad.  You see, I am at an amazing place in my life right now.  Ben's diagnosis doesn't bother me anymore.  It hasn't since before I had him.  However, sometimes I think that might possibly be because he hasn't been any different yet.  He's just been the sweetest, calmest, cutest, most precious baby ever!  I am so not biased...

The next week after the specialist appointment, we had a visit from Ben's physical therapist for the first time.  She brought to our attention, as I had started to suspect, that he was favoring his left side and was starting to get an uneven head.  Ugh...  This, of course, sparked a bunch of questions from me.  It's weird though how people avoid my questions sometimes.  I keep asking people how he is doing with holding his head up as compared to where he is "supposed" to be, and nobody really gives me a straight answer.  This unfortunately scares the crap out of me and makes me think it's really bad and nobody has the heart to tell me.  Once again....I had a moment.

It's almost as if I keep experiencing a manic depressive reaction to Ben's diagnosis.  I go for a really long time on an extreme high, and then something scares the crap out of me and I hit a low for a...well...moment.  I never, ever feel the whole "why me" thing, or feel bad about the fact that he has Down Syndrome.  I just get scared that I am going to do something wrong that keeps him from reaching his potential.  I am terrified that, because I don't know much about kids, he is going to miss a milestone and I am going to have no idea.  I am petrified about the possibility of failing him.

I always thought, before getting pregnant, that if I ever got the diagnosis that my child had a birth defect  my life would be ruined.  It's quite the opposite actually.  I, and I mean this, honestly feel lucky that I get to raise Ben.  I feel like I hit the lottery by Ben having Down Syndrome because there are so many more ups to it than downs (no pun intended).  My life isn't even close to ruined because of this, it has been transformed in the most positive way.  For this reason, my fears aren't about him.  My fears, or my moments, are about me.  Am I going to be able to give him everything he needs to reach his full potential?  Am I going to be able to handle it well when I realize that his full potential is different than his peers?  It seems, as a mama, that I am going to have a lot of milestones that I have to work towards as well.  The only thing I know for sure I am doing right is loving him.  That milestone has a big, huge double check with a line of gold stars! 

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Mom Guilt

There are quite a few things about motherhood I thought I understood, but now I know I didn't.  There are things that just simply can't be explained to someone about being a mom.  You have to experience it to get it.  Some of these things are good, and some of them are...well...less than awesome.  One thing I can say I have found to be not so great is this new found guilt I have.

I know you've probably read or heard this story a million times.  "Boo Hoo!  Mommy is sad because she has to leave her new baby and go back to work."  Well, you've heard it a million times because it is seriously traumatic!  My emotions my first day back were straight up comical.  I must have kissed Benjamin a hundred times trying to get out of the door.  I kept showing my mom different things around my house she might need to know to procrastinate my imminent departure.  I'm surprised I didn't take her into the basement to show her what I reckon to be the best corner to crouch in case of a tornado.  After running out of things to show or tell her, I then walked out the door with my tail between my legs.  I think I got out of the driveway before I started crying, but that might be a lie. 

Once I pulled myself together and headed on in to the office, I think it took me about thirty seconds to start showing off pictures of my baby.  Mind you, most of these people are on my Facebook page and had probably seen the 78,973 pictures of Benny I had already posted...the day before.  However, none of this mattered to me.  I missed my baby and I felt guilty for leaving him.  I sat down at my desk, plugged in my computer, and looked down to see wet spots letting me know that I probably should have put breast pads in if I was gonna think about my baby this much.  Awesome. 

I know it seems ridiculous, but I ACTUALLY felt like Ben was going to resent me for this.  In my mind, my ten week old son was somehow going to suffer severely one day because mommy went to work.   Isn't that what the blond chick from The View was always saying?

After I finally logged in to my computer, I started getting my almost three months of email in check.  I slowly but surely started wrapping my head around what I had missed.  You see, I REALLY love my job.  I am not kidding.  I LOVE what I do.  Because of this, I slowly started to realize that I actually missed it.  I started catching up with my boss and my co-workers, and I started to feel great!  This was so nice until it hit me.  Not only was I a horrible mother for leaving my child, I was an even worse mother because I was enjoying myself!  The NERVE!  What the hell is wrong with me?!

As I am writing this, I have been back to work for almost a full month now.  Things definitely got easier after that first day, but I still struggle.  I just thank God every single day for how blessed I am.  I have an amazing career that gives me the ability to see my son throughout the day and even spend my lunches nursing him.  I still feel guilty from time to time.  I just can't shake it.  I am guessing all mothers experience that guilt from time to time.  Even if I did have the opportunity to stay at home with Ben, I would probably feel guilty when I spent my days cleaning instead of playing with him.  Ahhh motherhood!  You are one complicated role that I am positive has never been completely mastered in the eyes of the women who play it!   It's a role that comes with no script and is slightly or dramatically different with every woman who takes it on.  It is the most fulfilling, terrifying, and enlightening role you will ever play.  Whenever I feel that guilt popping up, I'm just gonna have smash it back down.  I need to realize that I love my son more than anything on this earth, and I will never fail in making sure he knows it!  If that doesn't work, there's always a Late Harvest Riesling that will do the job.


Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Perfect: A Pregnancy Story



My idea of perfect is probably different than your idea of perfect.  I don't mean this in a self-righteous, judgy sort of way.  I am saying this because I have recently realized that my own idea of perfect has changed so many times in my life that I am beginning to realize that "perfect" is in the eye of the beholder.  

I knew I was pregnant before I ever taking a test.  I've always heard women say that they knew right away, but now I finally knew what they meant.  Something was just off, and I suspected I knew why.  I kept telling Mark, "I just don't feel normal."  I purchased a pregnancy test and that positive reading came up immediately.  I have never been so elated and terrified at the same time in my entire life!!  I instantly began sobbing and giggling hysterically at the same time.  Mark and I were only a few months back together and we didn't even have a house yet.  I was still living with my friend, Kelly, and he was still living with his brother, Matt.  We did, however, have an inspection scheduled for that afternoon on a house we made an offer on so we were definitely on the right track!!

A couple weeks prior to my positive test result, Mark and I traveled to Notre Dame so I could DJ my co-worker's wedding.  She had put us up in this REALLY cool B&B not far from campus.  It was a really old house with a ton of antique artwork scattered throughout.  We had a so much fun that weekend.  Our stay at the B&B was wonderful.  We got to traipse around Notre Dame's campus, have a few beers at some fighting Irish pubs, and attended mass at Notre Dame Cathedral.  I remember sitting in mass praying and thanking God over and over again for giving Mark and I the strength to repair our relationship.  I don't think I stopped smiling that entire weekend.  One might say that is the weekend I began to glow...


After I calmed down a little bit from seeing the positive result come up on the pregnancy test, I began trying to figure out how I was going to tell Mark.  I knew I wanted to do something fun, but I didn't know what.  I ended up running out and purchasing a Detroit Lion's newborn outfit.  Later that day, we had our inspection.  While the inspector was outside checking out the garage, I asked Mark to come look at something with me upstairs.  I said, "What bedroom do you think will be ours?".  He replied and I then took him into the room opposite the master bedroom and said, "So, do you think this would be a good one for the baby's room?".  He didn't get it.  He just laughed.  I opened the closet and the little Lion's outfit was hanging in there.  He said, "Did they leave that here?".  I laughed and it finally hit him.  Tears of joy welled up in his eyes and the biggest smile I have ever seen spread across his face from ear to ear.  We were back together, we were getting a new house, and we were pregnant.  Everything was so...perfect.

The next few months were filled with bliss.  We ignored the old superstition about not telling anyone until you were out of your first trimester, and began telling our family and closest friends we were expecting days after we had found out ourselves.  Everyone was so happy for us, and we were loving every minute of it.  We spent that New Years Eve checking an item off of our travel bucket list by going to New York City.  I was 8 weeks pregnant and showing a little more than normal for a first time mom, and I was loving EVERY minute of showing off that bump!!!!!!  I was also loving the New York food scene in alarming amounts.  I mean, seriously, how can one girl eat that much!


Just days after getting home from New York, we had our first ultrasound. We lovingly referred to our little baby as our gummy bear.  We announced our pending arrival to the rest of our friends via social media with our baby's first picture plastered all over Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.  Like I said, everything was just so ... perfect.


This was when the bliss bubble seems to have popped.  The first thing that happened was that the house we were waiting for started to seem like it wasn't going to happen.  It was a short sale situation, and we had heard absolutely nothing for months.  We then put an offer in on another house, had that offer accepted, and found out we had effectively lost our $3400 earnest money deposit from the first house.  It was stressful.  It was especially stressful because the new house we had just had our offer accepted on seemed as though it was going to take a LOT more work than we had originally planned on doing.  This was right about the time I got the first of many "bad" calls from my OB.

I was sitting at my brother in law's house where Mark was living until we could move in to our new home when my OB called.  I answered the phone and, instead of her front desk ladies, Dr. Mazey herself was on the line.  I happily greeted, "HI Dr. Mazey!", and instantly it hit me.  A few days prior to this call I had taken some blood test and I vaguely remembered her saying, "You either won't hear anything, or you will hear from me directly.  If it's me, it's bad news."  It appears I had tested high risk for down syndrome on my Quad test.  She wanted me to immediately, and I mean next morning immediately, head to a specialist for a level 2 ultrasound.  I had a flight booked to Nashville the next morning for work.  Normally, I don't put work off for anything and I mean ANYTHING.  I immediately started stammering on the phone to the doctor about my work trip.  My doctor, whom I love dearly, got my attention real quick and said, "Jamie, you need to cancel your flight."  I scheduled the appointment, rescheduled my flight, and balled my eyes out uncontrollably and as quietly as possible while Mark hugged me.

Like any internet savvy individual that gets bad news, Mark and I immediately began doing research.  We found out, much like Dr. Mazey had stated, that the Quad test has a LOT of false positives.  It's just a screen to say whether you are at risk or not.  Our baby's chance of having down syndrome was  only 1% at this point.  Once chance out of a hundred.  That's nothing!  However, there was a voice deep inside me that I was desperately trying to ignore telling me that we were the 1%.

With absolutely NO sleep, Mark and I went to the specialist the next morning.  Dr. Vengalil took us in to perform a Level 2 ultrasound.  They were looking for something called "soft markers" to clue them in to whether or not Ben had any defects.  He was, after all, Benjamin at this point as we had found out at our last appointment that we were expecting a baby boy.  They couldn't find any soft markers, but still wanted us to confirm the potential diagnosis.  The spoke to us about an amnio.  Considering I had an anterior placenta (my placenta was in front of instead of behind the baby), and the fact that I was RH-, my risk for miscarriage with the amnio was increased.  They would have to go through my placenta.  Seriously?!  OUCH!  I was not on board.  The doctor then talked to us about termination.  She wanted to make it very clear that we would not be allowed to terminate unless we confirmed the diagnosis with an amnio.  Terminate?  What?!  This suddenly made things seem real.  Our baby boy, our Benjamin, whom we had just watched move around and open and close his hands in the 3D ultrasound, was not something to be terminated.  Mark and I spoke about it for all of 3 seconds before very confidently understanding we were both on the same page.  Termination was not an option, and neither was the amnio.  However, there was apparently some new blood test we could take called MaterniT-21.  This test, although very, VERY new, was found to be 99% accurate in determining Trisomy-21(Down Syndrome).  A blood test I could deal with, so we took the test.

We spent the next few weeks convincing ourselves we were fine and so was Ben.  He was perfect.  There was no way he had Down Syndrome.  We SAW him on the ultrasound and he was GORGEOUS!  You could already tell he had his Daddy's lips!   Around 10am on a Monday, I was working from home and got a call from my OB's office.  Dr. Mazey's assistant called me.  She told me Dr. Mazey needed to see me.  "Sure!", I said, "When does she need me to come in?"  Anka, Dr. Mazey's assistant, said, "Today.  Right now if possible."  My heart dropped into my stomach.  I knew.  I didn't need to go to the office.  I knew, right then, that the test results came back positive.  I made Dr. Mazey get on the phone and tell me.  I called Mark in absolute hysterics.  I couldn't even talk.  He got up and left work without even saying anything to anyone and drove straight to me.  We literally held each other and balled our eyes out until we fell asleep.  We no longer had only a mere 1% chance of Ben having Down Syndrome.  We, with one phone call, now had a 99% chance of Ben having Down Syndrome.

Our doctor's appointments increased by 10x immediately.  Suddenly, we were seeing specialists left and right, getting fetal EKG's, and having every non-invasive fetal test known to man done.  On top of all this, Mark ended up losing his job due to the amount of time he was taking off for doctor's appointments.  Through it all, we were OK though.  Mark and I had our one day of serious crying, and then we both put a positive face on.  We were fine with Ben having Down Syndrome.  NO big deal!  Mark's little brother Scottie has special needs, so Mark had a lot of experience.  He went to the Special Olympics every year for goodness sake.  I knew some people who had children with disabilities, and I was fine with it.  Happy Faces!  Except....it was only our faces that were happy.  We didn't even tell anyone short of our parents and a few close friends about the diagnosis.  We kept it to ourselves.  We didn't know how to talk about it.  Mark threw himself into working on our new house, and I, in true Jamie form, just put a big fat smile on my face and pretended everything was perfect.  This little charade went pretty well until I was about 35 weeks pregnant.

You see, throughout all of these specialist appointments, no one could find ANYTHING wrong with Ben.  There were absolutely NO soft markers of any kind, his heart was perfectly fine, and everything was coming up roses.  Personally, I really started to think this new test was wrong.  I honestly started thinking Ben didn't have anything wrong with him.  This is why I had such a hard time hearing that he had stopped growing.  Dr. Mazey had me coming in to the office for Non-Stress Tests 2x per week since about 28 weeks.  These were going fine, or so I thought.  Dr. Mazey kept asking me if I was ok at all my visits, and I would answer with a big smile that I was great every time.  At my 35 week appointment, she told me that she was worried that my placenta wasn't nourishing Ben the way it should be as was common with the placenta of a Down's baby.  Apparently my fundal height had stopped increasing at 34 weeks.  I was shocked.  What do you mean?  Everything had been coming back so good!  I had been getting so much good news that I didn't understand how something could be going wrong.  This is when Dr. Mazey realized I was in denial.  She started giving it to me straight.  "Jamie, Ben most likely has Down Syndrome.  This is very common for down syndrome babies."  I glared at her saying, "But, but, his NST's are all normal, and all the ultrasounds!".  This is when it hit me.  I had been ignoring a lot of what the doctors had been saying.  Everything did look great.  It all looked great for a down syndrome baby.  His NST results WERE good, for a down syndrome baby.  His growth WAS good, for a down syndrome baby.  Somehow, someway, my brain had somehow deleted the "for a down syndrome baby" caviot to every result I was getting.  It was like in the movies when the main character suddenly has that moment where they flashback to all the earlier scenes and remember something about them they (and the audience) didn't notice before.  You know, like in the Sixth Sense when you realize nobody ever talked to Bruce Willis except the creepy kid throughout the whole movie.  That, was my whole pregnancy. 

I absolutely broke down in Dr. Mazey's office.  I was balling my eyes out so hard I was hyperventilating.  Dr. Mazey was hugging me crying herself.  She said to me, "I was wondering when you were gonna crack!"  We started laughing through our tears.  "Jamie," she said, "you come in here so strong through every test and every appointment.  It is OK to be scared.  It is OK not to be PERFECT."  Well, she had my number.  The jig was up. 

For the next few weeks I was NOT OK.  I was calling Ramie, my best friend, after every doctor's appointment crying.  I was terrified.  I was terrified of labor, I was terrified of the problem's with my pregnancy, I was terrified of Ben having downs, and I was just plain terrified of becoming a mom in general on top of all that.  Ben had dropped around 32 weeks, so on top of being terrified I was soooooo uncomfortable!  My placenta was jacked up, and I was exhausted.  This pregnancy was sucking every bit of energy from me mentally and physically.  Every time I called her, Ramie would talk me off the ledge and every time that would last about an hour before I got all worked up again in time for Mark to deal with me at home.  I was a hot flippin' mess to put it mildly!

Then, on the morning of August 5th, my water broke as I was walking in to the doctor's office for a NST.  Everyone told me this wouldn't happen.  Everyone told me my first would be a slow process, he would come late, and it would take forever.  Everyone was wrong!  Ten days early, and one day before the specialist was going to decide whether or not to take Ben by C-Section due to the malfunctioning placenta, Ben was on his way.

At 9:33pm, after 3 hours of pushing (since he had gotten stuck in my pelvic bone within the first two pushes), Benjamin James Freeman arrived weighing 6lbs, 1oz and measuring 19 inches long. 



Mark, who was amazing through the horrendous labor, was happier than I had ever seen!  He was positively beaming!  I, however, was going through the excruciating process of having my placenta manually taken out of me piece by piece.  Since it had essentially stopped working at 34 weeks, my placenta had begun to deteriorate.  They almost had to take me in for a C-Section after I delivered the baby to get my placenta out.  This, was worse than labor.  I remember lying there writhing in pain every time she reached in to get more of it out.  After an hour of this, my doctor finally began stitching me up.  I asked her, "Are they going to test his blood right away to see if he has downs?".  She looked at me and said matter of factly, "He shows all the physical signs of a down syndrome baby."  The weirdest thing happened at this point.  Immediately, I relaxed.  You see, it wasn't the diagnosis that had been weighing on me so hard.  It was the fear of the unknown.  My dad always says that indecision and the fear of the unknown are always worse than the outcome itself, and he is right.  All the testing and the back and forth results throughout my pregnancy were traumatizing.  Finally, after the horrendous labor process that I had every damn right to be afraid of, I knew.  I knew my baby boy had down syndrome and I honestly could not have cared less.  I felt better than I had in months!  Granted, they had begun pumping me full of morphine because of my placenta issues, but I am pretty sure it was because the guesswork was all over.


The nurses came over and handed Benjamin to me.  He was hands-down the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my entire life!  His big eyes were looking up at me.  His beautiful full lips just like his daddy's were making little sucking noises.  He was ... PERFECT.  He was exactly who God intended him to be and I couldn't have been happier.





The next week was rough.  Ben spent the first week of his life in the NICU due to some low oxygen saturation, jaundice, and low blood sugar due to my placenta problems, but he improved by leaps and bounds every day and came home with us exactly one week after he arrived into this world.  It was amazing though.  Every single fear I had had about his diagnosis was gone the second I knew it to be true.  I honestly didn't care at all.  I just wanted him to be healthy.


It's humbling when I think back through all the feeling and emotions I experienced throughout my pregnancy.  I was terrified of the unknown.  As soon as Ben arrived, it just didn't matter anymore.  I knew he had down syndrome, and I was fine with it.  Not pretending to be fine with it like I did throughout my pregnancy, but I was truly at peace with it.  It didn't matter.  All that mattered to me at that point was that the beautiful little blue-eyed man that Mark and I loved instantly more than life itself was healthy and happy.  I know we will do whatever we can to keep him that way.  He is our version of PERFECT.



Tuesday, September 17, 2013

It Could Be Worse

I remember when my sister was diagnosed with Lung Cancer, she began experiencing a barrage of verbal diarrhea from people.  When something bad happens to you, some people just don't know what to say.  It was so bad we actually wrote a musical number about it titled, "The Stupid Things That People Say When You Have Cancer".  We performed it at her 40th birthday party.  I think we effectively made every single person in that room uncomfortable due to the dark material, or just plain embarassed because they themselves had said one of the lines in the song.  Personally, I thought it was hilarious.

When we began telling people Ben had Down Syndrome, I was terrified of the responses. I had done WAY too much reading online about the horror stories that were the comments some of these new parents experienced.  Lucky enough for me, it hasn't been too bad yet.  There is one comment that got me thinking.  It's not a bad or a stupid comment, but it still just made me think.  The comment is, "It could be so much worse."  When people say this I know they are talking about the many conditions my child could be born with that cause him severe physical pain, surgeries, lengthy hospital stays, or even worse.  Even though I know that is what they are talking about, there is only one worse scenario that pops into my head and that is not being blessed with a child at all.  The only thing "worse" in the mind of Jamie is to have lived my entire life and never known the love I feel for this little man.  That, in my opinion, would be the worst case scenario.

It's no secret to those close to me that Mark and I had a less than perfect relationship.  We had so many issues there are too many to name.  These issues were multiplied when we added the inability to get pregnant into the mix.  Mark and I pulled the goalie, so to speak, mere months after we were married with the hopes of getting pregnant right away.  Needless to say, that didn't happen.  After multiple months and months of disappointment, I went to my OB.  It seems that I was not ovulating and she didn't think with the low level of hormone I was working with that I would get pregnant without help.  I was devastated.

Looking back, I now know why I wasn't ovulating.  STRESS.  Stress can do a number on your body.  It is a scary, scary thing.  Mark and I were barely talking.  He spent most of his time in the basement, and I threw myself into my career.  Our relationship had been flawed since the beginning due to our own issues individually, and we had yet to figure that out.  You see, we didn't fight.  With a few exceptions of those closest to us, everyone thought we were the PERFECT couple.  We were the couple that people looked up to.  I always had a big smile on my face, and hardly anybody ever saw us say one bad word to each other.  What most people didn't know is that we were both miserable.  Mark was dealing with his own demons and extremely unhappy with himself.  I kept trying to do everything in my power to make him happy which was just making the situation worse because I wasn't confronting him on anything.  We didn't fight.  I don't like to fight.  So, I did what I do best.  I held it all in and made the situation worse than it already was.  I began traveling more and more for work, Mark spent more and more time in the basement, and we spiraled FAST.

I left in January of 2012 with a huge chip on my shoulder.  If he was going to be miserable, that was HIS problem.  I, in my mind, was a great wife.  I did EVERYTHING for him.  I never yelled at him or nagged him, I gave selflessly in every area I could, and I tried to be everything he wanted me to be.  It didn't take too many therapy visits after I left to realize that, although he was in the wrong in a lot of ways, I was doing as much harm to our relationship as he was if not more.  Mark was in one of the darkest places of his life when I left, and me leaving woke him up.  He began doing everything he could to better himself, and I began spiraling down to my darkest point.  We effectively switched places.  He began getting healthy both mentally and physically, and really made the biggest transformation I had ever seen anyone make.  I've never been so proud and so in awe of somebody as I am of my husband.  He did what most cannot do.  He made the choice to change, and he did it.  I, on the other hand, began making horrible, HORRIBLE life choices and most of the time barely left my room.

With the help of my closest friends conspiring behind my back (Thank You Ramie and Kelly), I finally started to get out of my funk.  I began attending church again, and started dating my husband.  We began communicating like we never have before.  We dated.  We had many, many uncomfortable conversations.  We were brutally honest with each other.  We were fighting, and it was working.  We began praying together, and slowly but surely we came back together.  The entire time we were separated I always had this knawing feeling in the back of my mind that if I did the work, if I put in the effort, I would be rewarded.  This feeling was especially strong whenever I prayed.  After nearly nine months of separation, we walked into what was supposed to be our final court date and told the judge with smiles on our faces that we had reconciled and would like to throw our case out.

A few months after we had come back together, we started talking about children again.  We figured we would start actively trying again sometime in the Spring of 2013.  At the advice of my doctor, I stopped taking my birth control at the end of October 2012 to make sure it was out of my system.  I'm sure some of you have already done the math and figured out that I effectively got pregnant mere days after getting off birth control.  Talk about God having a plan...

Knowing what it feels like to think you may be infertile, I have the utmost sympathy for anyone that is going through that.  The day I told Mark that I was pregnant we were having an inspection done on a house we were thinking about buying.  Our relationship had never, EVER been stronger than it was at that point, things were coming together better than I could have imagined, and we (without even trying) were expecting our first child.

I am a new mom, so I am not pretending to have any amount of wisdom in the realm of having a child with a disability.  However, I can tell you that in my opinion, the only thing worse than any disability my child might have would be to not have this amazing blessing in my life at all.  Mark and I are more in love than we have ever been, we have a different, stronger love than we have ever had, and we have the hands down, most adorable blessing we ever could have imagined!




Sunday, September 15, 2013

New Beginnings

The last few years of my life have been...transformational.


When I was younger I always said I wanted to wait til I was 30 to get married and have kids.  I figured, based on my vast knowledge of the world in terms of relationship success at the ripe age of 18ish, that is what it took to have a successful marriage.  I just knew that if you found someone whose company you greatly enjoyed, ensured you had gotten all of your wild oats sewn during your 20s, and established yourself in your career, your marriage would have no problems!  Easy peasy...  Now, I wasn't stupid!  I was well aware that marriage took work.  I knew, and said often, that I was prepared for the hard times that inevitably came with marriage.  It's one thing to say it, it's an entirely other thing to live through it.  As a matter of fact, I remember sitting in our pre-marriage session with our priest and answering questions.  He asked, "What makes you two think this marriage is going to work?"  Our answer was, "Well, we've been together a long time, we love each other, we don't really fight, and we both feel we've done everything right that you are supposed to do before you get married."  Ha...  That statement alone was probably the beginning of what could have been the end of us.  Anyhow, I digress.  Back to the transformational years I go...

I am beginning a blog today because I have recently been told by quite a few people that they have enjoyed my blurbs on facebook and would love to read more.  You see, I find writing therapeutic.  I have a popular defense mechanism where I use humor to hide my pain.  It works pretty well and entertains my friends in the process.  Win/Win!  So, I went ahead and started the blog today.  I don't really know where to start, so I figured I'd start with what was so transformational about my last few years.  To be fair, it's kind of my last ten years that were transformational, but I didn't know it til recently.  It wasn't until January 2012 that I realized just how jacked up my life had been getting when I left my husband.  Since marrying Mark on October 24, 2009, I've been through an almost divorce, separation, financial crises, job change, marriage restoration, friendship crises, family crises, faith losing, faith finding, infertility problems, pregnancy, and most recently motherhood.  This list is just the tip of the ice burg, so I am certain I have no shortage of blogging material.  The least of which is our now 6 week old son's Down Syndrome diagnosis we received when I was 17 weeks pregnant.


Right at this moment, I am sitting on my couch typing away, my husband, Mark, is holding our baby boy Benjamin while playing a football video game, and my two dogs are lazily snoring on the floor.  Our life is quite blessed.  However, who has ever received a blessing without first doing the work and experiencing the pain required to receive and appreciate it?  I know I haven't.  I know that there are many more peaks and valleys I will experience throughout the rest of my life, but I can't help but feel like I have been through it all at this point.  Looking at my baby boy resting in my husband's lap, I know I can conquer anything and will come out better for it on the other side.  Mark and I may not have been through it all at this point, but we will have Ben through it all from here out, and he is worth any amount of pain. 

Here's to the beginning of my stories!!!