Judith

Judith

Friday, September 26, 2014

Roxie's Birth Story - Part Three

Hey, Guys.

A lot has happened since Tuesday.

Homecoming has taken over at our house.

It is the last high school Homecoming ever for our little family of five.

Bittersweet, but oh, so fun.

Roxie has played in a Powder Puff Football Game...

Attended the Homecoming Pep Rally...

And ridden in the Homecoming Parade.

All that is left are pictures at 5:00, the game and a Homecoming date with Hunter after the game.

To top it all off, my nephew, Brad, is getting married tomorrow evening.

So today, I'm posting ONE pic and ONE old story!


This is Roxie in all her PRE-Homecoming glory. I'll be posting 1,347,021 pics on Tuesday of everything else.

It will be Homecoming Overload, I tell you.

Roxie's Birth Day Story - Part Three

I told you it was a very loooong pregnancy. I also told you there were two more incidences before Roxie's arrival. The first two had to do with Roxie, but the third was all me.

In July, two months after our UAB appointment, I began to feel more tired than normal. Now this is tricky, because I am, and have been as long as I can remember, always very, very tired. It's who I am. I have NEVER had insomnia. I sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. (Don't hate me because I'm well-rested. I would say, "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful," but the sheet marks embedded in my face 24/7 take away from my natural prettiness.)

This was different. I even talked to my doctor about my exhaustion. He said, "Well, you're three months away from delivering a new baby, and you're taking care of two very active little boys. Of course you're tired."

No kidding, Sherlock. "I'm telling you. This is different. This is 'If you walk out of the room to get a chart, when you come back I'll be zonked out on this comfortable table with the stirrups and the paper sheet-tired.' This is 'If Barry Manilow were to walk in your waiting room, I would have to wave weakly from where I was sitting because I don't have the energy to get up and go meet him-tired.' This is SO MUCH MORE than 'running after two little boys with a watermelon strapped around my waist-tired.'"

He looked at me. Then he looked at my chart. "Well, when we tested your iron last month it was close to being borderline. Let's check that again."

Thank you, Sherlock! Another blood test. Another day of waiting by the phone. (Well, actually I was asleep on the couch, but mentally, I was pacing the floor). Finally, a phone call. "You are EXTREMELY anemic. I'm talking 'blood transfusion' anemic. I'm talking we've got to get your levels up and soon!"

All right. An explanation. And now a solution. "You're going to bottom out before your levels begin to rise." To this day, this does not make sense to me, but recently I talked to someone who said the same thing happened to her. You have to get worse before you get better.

"Well, I'm pretty much wiped out 20 out of 24 hours a day now. What are we talking about here?" I asked.

"You don't need to drive for a week because you could pass out behind the wheel. And if you go to sleep, and no one is able to wake you up, you'll need to call the paramedics."

Hmmm. I didn't like the sound of that. Mikie had to get up at 6:00 and leave for work around 7:00, so he could make sure I got up from my night-time sleep, but it would be up to the boys to make sure I got up after their naptime. But in my heart of hearts, I am a teacher! It was time for a little lesson.

"Austin. Do you know what to do if there is an emergency?" I asked.

"Call 9-1-1!" he responded correctly.

"That's right," I said. "Now, what is an emergency?"

"FIRE!" both of the boys said in one voice, both smiling ear-to-ear.

Okay. That was a little disturbing. "Well, yes. That is definitely an emergency. But I'm going to talk to you about something else that is an emergency. Mommy has something called 'anemia.' Can you say 'anemia?'"

"A-men-ia," they said.

"Close enough," I said in my best teacher voice. "Anemia means Mommy might go to sleep, and it would be very hard to wake me up. I'm okay, but I need a little help to wake up. This is only going to last for one week. So, if you come in Mommy's room (or see Mommy on the floor), if I don't wake up from my nap, you will need to call 9-1-1. Okay?"

Big grins. "All right!" they shouted with gusto. Okay. I was a little disturbed again.

"But you have to try to wake Mommy up. Do not see me taking a nap and just assume I need help from the paramedics. You have to try first. Promise?" I had visions of waking up and having three paramedics standing over my bed. (Not a bad vision, but not how you want the local paramedics spending their precious time either.)

Needless to say, we spent several minutes practicing "waking" me up, and the boys did a very good job. I felt we had the anemia-thing under control.

And in fact, seven days later when I went for another blood test, I had indeed bottomed-out. I had no where else to go but up. But the doctor said I had to be at a certain number (there are those numbers I don't understand again) before Roxie was born for it to be "safe delivery."

Now we were talking. A goal. And a specific "number" I was trying to reach in a certain number of days. You know. Like 75 Christmas cards this year. This I could do. In fact, I was born to do this.

Part Four of Roxie's Story next Tuesday!

I'll be back next week with Homecoming stories and pics, Brad's Wedding stories and pics, Roxie's Birthday stories and pics... and a little more.

Take care, and I'll talk to you next week.

Sincerely,

The Enchanting Belinda

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