Apology

I used to ask people "When are you gonna have another?". That is the rudest questions EVER. I am sooo super uninterested in having another child right now. And I despise anyone who parts their lips to ask that question to me. So to the people I asked that: I apologize.

The First 48

The good news is Mason is home and we're adjusting. The bad news is we're adjusting to him. If I want to eat and he's hungry, guess who wins? If we are in a deep slumber at 3 a.m. and he wants to get up, guess who wins? If I want to talk on the phone or check email and he's "crying", guess who wins? So the unofficial score is Mason-more, Pat and Jan-less. He's winning, but hopefully not for long. He's a pretty easy going baby, thus far. (Knock on wood). What get hims the most riled up is a dirty diaper. Luckily, the hospital could not give him undivided attention, so he's self sufficient. He generally just wakes up and will lie in his bassinet.  We'll hear his lips smacking or a small coo and know that he needs something. I am becoming a bit nutty due to my new sleep schedule. The dreams are bizarre because I am in and out of consciousness. Last night Pat randomly asked me for a bowl as he was going to sleep, he too is nutty. I can only imagine that it will get nuttier. I think it's best that I sign off now and go catch a few winks before You Know Who makes a demand.

24/7 365

So this time tomorrow I'll be a full time mommy. Well actually maybe in twelve hours give or take a couple. It's surreal. You expect to go home with your baby when you plan your pregnancy out in your head. So, I had planned that part. I'd have contractions, we'd pack up, there would be some heavy breathing and a couple of pushes, Pat would cut the umbilical cord, they would discharge us, and we would go home as a family. All in a matter of three days. Wrong. We have waited fifty days and now the time has come.  I'm not scared. It's kinda like the first day of kindergarten. You know how you wait all summer of what to expect? You've visited the school, bought your backpack, met your teachers; however, you still need to see for yourself. So if you have asked me if I'm ready and I said "Sure", just think about how a five year old would respond on August 19th if you asked if they were ready for kindergarten. We're prepared. We're ready,  just anxious to jump into full time parenting.

Deuces

The glow of your skin. The flutters in your belly. The week by week inching out of your belly. Ahhhhh...pregnancy. I have heard women say they miss being pregnant. I'm baffled. 'Cause I do not miss it. I don't miss the constant doctor visits. I don't miss my middle finger that just stopped functioning and started hurting continuously. I don't miss my feet that began to swell to the point where I had to go buy new shoes. I don't miss the excessive tiredness. I just don't miss being pregnant. I feel like a new woman now that I am not preggers. I can see the lower half of my body. I don't need a nap after work (however, this will soon change), I can wear my old shoes. My middle finger works again. I can dance...or try to at least. It's great. So, until we meet again I'm happily throwing up the deuces to pregnancy. One of ya'll can go on and have it.

Santa called today

Well, it wasn't really Santa, but we got "the call" this morning. Dr. Tran said they wanted me to sign the consent for circumcision today. What does that mean?  Well... waaaaay back in November I asked when he'd be circumcised, and they said that's one of the last things they will do before he'll go home. So, Mason is getting ready to come home full time. They typically say your baby will come home near your due date. But as many of us know, Mason does what he wants when he wants. Hence the reason I'm not pregnant and pigging out this Christmas. I am assuming he wants to be home. Just like the other morning he yanked his feeding tube out. Although they put it back in they ended up taking it out that same day. I think Mason made that decision, not the medical team. And now he wants to come home. So, all we have to do is pray that no sudden setback arises, and we'll have us a baby to usher in the new year. Guess the only bottles I'm popping on New Year's will be filled with milk <insert deep sigh here>.

Funny Guy

Mason is a funny little dude. He's doing really well. Of course he's out of the isolete. So his latest challenge has been to take his meals from the bottle. For the most part he's hitting the bottle (hehehe) well. Sometimes if he is too pooped, however, they will give him the tube. The nurses had been telling us that he was "telling" them he wanted the bottle. Mason is generally a quiet fella, so we were curious what that meant. Well, we got to experience that today. Once he woke up he was raising a ruckus and kept putting his hands in his mouth. His ruckus was just making his cute little semi-cry, it's more cute and funny than pitiful. Thus meaning I look at him and giggle instead of rushing to pacify him. So, I fed him. A couple of times he rejected me which consisted of not  swallowing and just letting a little waterfall of my precious milk cascade down his chin. But eventually he polished off most of the 40milliters. The funniest part that made mom and dad laugh was his final sip. Once I pulled the bottle out of his motch he raised his tongue to the roof of his mouth and made a smacking sound, as if to say "now that was some good stuff". Now the funniest/oddest thing he does is his "I'm not happy with you" look. Whenever he is cranky/fed up/agitated he gets red. He actually takes on a red undertone. RED! It's crazy because it comes on so quickly. Pat and I will just look in amazement that he turns red.  I guess he's a lil red bone after all because Pat wanted a brown baby. That's what he gets!

Weight a second

For starters, Mason's birth weight has been debated. When he was born the folks in the operating room told me two and a half pounds. However, later that day we were informed it was 2lbs 5.5oz. Yet, when people told us again they said 2lbs 6oz. (I believe this is rounded from the previously stated weight) Then, when I was looking at his info on his isolete 2lbs 9oz was crossed out. We finally discovered his true weight is the 2lbs 5.5oz. Whew. I even get confused when folks now. But none of that matters anymore. 'Cause my lil man is movin on up. First, he hit the weight that helped him get out of the isolete. That was either 1600 or 1700 grams. Too bad I can't recall what that translates to in pounds. Last night when Pat and I were there we saw him get assessed. He weighed in at 4lbs! He has some cheeks now. On both ends! Well...maybe not both ends. (Side note- if you want a good laugh look at a preemie tooshie). Moral of the story is, we don't care too much about what he weighed at birth. And the way he chugged his bottle down for me today, he's gonna be gaining some more! Speaking of bottles, Young Mr. Walton took 3 bottles today out of his six feedings. How much is in a bottle you ask? Thirty six milliliters or a little over an ounce. And if you know what an ounce is (think a packet of BBQ sauce from Bo'Jangles) that is too cute. So I'll keep pumping and he'll keep gaining (and hopefully I'll keep losing).

Revelations

I have made profound revelations in the past five weeks. One, I had too much time on my hands before motherhood. I don't know what I was doing. Now, I am on a schedule, which I am sure will change once he comes home. Nonetheless, this schedule has proven that I should have been in a club, volunteering, having a hobby. Something. I don't know what I have been doing since I finished school. Whatever it was, it was not too productive. Two, what was on my mind before Mason? I'm sure he would be on my mind despite being in the hospital, but it's nonstop now. Leading me to question, what did I wake up thinking about before this? Was I so egotistical that it was all about me and I didn't know? No way, I was always thinking. Right? Was I not using my thoughts to ponder meaningful world issues like how to lower my carbon footprint or is Tupac alive? I'm either thinking about him or what I'll do with him. Will I let him eat Burger King? Will I allow him to play football?  Well, I now have an agenda so no more idle time on these hands, nor will I sit around googling "Kim Kardashians butt real". I have real things to do and real issues to think about.

So Amazing

I keep playing November 5th back in my head, and I can only come up with the word "amazing". Not just pixie dust amazing, but speechless dumbfounded "say whaaaaaat" amazing. The first amazing thing is that I'm a mama! I'M A MAMA?!?!? I'm responsible for someone. He is dependent on me. I have to have a babysitter to go out. I have to choose Huggies over Chipotle. A mama! Amazing. Amazing that I wake up from my wonderful slumber to pump in the middle of the night. 'Cause I loves my sleep. Now, when you have preemie folks come out of hiding to tell their preemie story. After listening to some of those stories, we have an amazing preemie. He has had little setbacks...if you want to even call jaundice a setback. It's amazing he was born at 30 weeks, but was breathing on his own so early. Really, he's just small. Everything else with him is fine. (Thank God!) We're working on bottle feeding right now, and his isolete temperature is continually dropping, so he'll be outta there soon. It's amazing that he has a humor (I think). How else can you explain the wet diaper I went to change, looked at him in awe for a moment, then had a poopy diaper? And it's amazing he has a personality (maybe). He has been working so hard this week on bottle feed. Even taking the entire 30 something milliliters a few times, and half the bottle other times. Then bam...he decides other day and takes 5ml for the whole day! I think he knows he has the feeding tube to fall back on. And speaking of feeding tube, he pulled it out. Just the satisfaction, I believe. It's all been amazing. Truly amazing.

I make this look easy

Why didn't the folks with kids tell me this whole pregnancy/birth/motherhood thing was so easy? No morning sickness. No odd cravings. No dilating 10 centimeters. No pushing. No waking up in the middle of the night. No changing diapers every hour. I do wish I had gone the whole nine months. I wanted my belly button to pop out completely. Plus,  it would have made things much easier. And who doesn't want to bring their new baby home? Naturally, we'd love to have him here now. But I guess we're eating up these last few moments as semi-single/semi-parents. We have one foot in the world of getting home at 3am and the other foot in the hospital. It's weird. But in some ways everyone should get to transition into the world parenthood. It would be like getting your permit. (But having a permit to parent is another blog!) I know for the next child, assuming I have another, we will be in shock. Taking it home with us days after birth! Having to be prepared for the arrival. Whew! I can't imagine what will be in that blog. But in the meantime...I'm just gonna make this look easy!

rANdOM

Here are a few thoughts that wouldn't make a decent entry on its own.

1) You have no control in pregnancy. I have learned not to say what I want. For starters, I stated early on that I did not want a c-section. Ka-powee! Secondly, I told Pat "I can't have this baby in 2010, I'm not prepared" Ka-powee! Next, "I don't want my baby born at Duke.", SMH. Ka-powee.
2) What are the odds that Mason should get a new roomy yesterday...named Mason?
3) Everyone says "That's a great name" when we tell them our child's name. I took it as a compliment in the beginning. Now, I feel pressured. I have to make sure that my next child (assuming I have another) has an equally great name. And I think it's the Jett part that sets it off. So should all our kids have a funky middle name? And what are some other funky noun type names? Apple (Gwenyth Paltrow's kid)? Scout (Bruce & Demi's)?
4) I looked like crap. Everyone knew, except me. I knew I was pregnant and not the fox you all are used to seeing. But it is amazing how the truth comes out now. Folks at work all thought I was miserable cause I looked so crappy. However, it it was not just work folk with these sentiments, folks outside of work too (Fuzzy and Eva!) I assure y'all I felt great throughout this pregnancy, I just looked like crap.
5) I understand how people become psycho-moms. You know those mamas who don't want their child to ride the school bus because there are no seat belts? Now I vow not to be that outrageous, but I can understand it. I closed the door to Mason's isolete (fancy word for incubator) just cause I smelled smoke in a visiting mother's clothes. And don't worry, I eventually opened the door.
6) I don't have a baby at home, yet I understand why "they" say you don't sleep when you have a baby. I've been trying to pump every 3 hours to simulate what my body would go through if MJW was here. I can't do it! I got up at 3 a.m. once. I've decided Pat will be doing early morning feedings while I get my rest. Besides, Mason will be introduced to a bottle before he comes home.
7) Kids are forever! I am...we... are responsible for Mason. I shake my head daily at kids thinking their parents should put down the cell phone and pick up a book. I SMH thinking they need to parent instead of just having kids. Now, I must parent. This is not Codie, a pup that can be left at home while I run out and get gas. You have to take 'em with you. Amazing.
8) Finally, I am a freaking slave to this pump. I swear I dreamed about that darn pump. And don't forget to pump one morning. You will wake up to a "pure-t" mess. (uhhhh....I would assume)

April showers bring November babies

Well it happened. My shower. Now if you attended the shower and heard the tale of prom or my oral presentation in ninth grade English then you know that I don't do attention well. Needless to say I was not completely sold on the idea of a shower. It was tons of stress with a shower. The registry. The guest list. Well... that doesn't seem like much, but it sure felt that way. I digress. So, the shower went well. Folks even traveled to see me! Little 'ol me. They came from far away lands like Charlotte, Atlanta, Kernersville, and Chapel Hill. The venue was great. The food was delish. The games were fun. (But I did not enjoy scooping those cotton balls and being the laughing stock) I found the M&M game absolutely adorable, but perhaps they should eliminate the funny story option. The toughest part? Opening gifts in front of all those folks. And by all those folks I mean family and close friends. In the end, it was all gravy. Maybe I'll even have a bridal shower one day. HA! So in conclusion, the booger picker is signing off, and thanking all those who came and those who wanted to be there. (Only attendees are privy to "booger picker" knowledge.)

Giving Thanks

What are the odds, as I lounged in bed this day of thanks that my phone should ring? It was the nurse practitioner from Duke. Of course my initial thought was that of not the best news. After all, the first time they ever called me was to tell me that Mason had a hole in his heart. (Yes, it did close with the meds given. We're thankful) This time they were calling to tell me that little Mason was being taken off of his feeding tube. We're thankful.  This means he will be taking his mama's milk by mouth . We're thankful. Also, she stated that Mason was the next candidate to be moved to Durham Regional. Basically, his space at Duke can be used for a baby in more need. We're thankful. Last night when I visited with Mason I was told he had reached three pounds! Growing so quickly. We're thankful. We are thankful for so much on this day. Who would have thought that a 19 day old preemie would allow for so many thanks on this day? We have lots to be thankful for in the upcoming days/weeks/months. But it means so much more to us to receive a call so wonderful on Thanksgiving Day. We're thankful. How bout you?

Robbed and cheated

I have thought long and hard about this thing. Eighteen hours, fifty six minutes. That is how long it took me to become a mother. That is not enough time. Furthermore, I was cheated out of pregnancy. Apparently I was pregnant in April. Didn't know it. (Deduct a month) Found out in May. (The 23rd to be exact, basically another month down the drain) Had to wait until June 13th to go the doctor. (Yes, a day before my 29th birthday) And then this lil dude came ten weeks early!(Two more months off the Preg-o-meter) I was robbed. I was knowingly pregnant for five months 14 days! One hundred sixty seven days! What am I supposed to do with that?! So when people say "Well what do you have?" now they can understand why I say "Some clothes and a bassinet." Can you blame me? I just needed to justify why Pat and I are running amok trying prepare for Mason's arrival home. So please excuse me if I seem a bit flabbergasted where this whole pregnancy/birth/motherhood is concerned. I was only pregnant twenty three weeks, roughly!

Movin' on up

Preface: Mason is a baby genius. The other night I gave him his paci and he was holding it. No lie. And now...the blog.

Friday night at the NICU they told us Mason was moving to a new room in the NICU. Saturday when we got there he was in a different new room in the NICU. Sunday when we arrived he was not even in NICU. He no longer needs intensive care. I have mixed emotions about this move. We had established some relationships with nurses in there. Grace was our fave. He is breathing on his own. He is taking even more of my milk. He's a big boy. So they moved him to a less needy location. The Transition Care Unit seems like they are gonna make us do some parenting! Some of the things we can partake in include bathing, feeding, reading, and diaper changing. (BTW Pat has changed one diaper, and is the Hero of Huggies. Prince of Pampers. SMH) It seems like life is gonna move faster in the TCU. Yikes! I guess I should get used to a fast paced life. I guess this is what we should expect with an advanced child. We'll get used to it. In all seriousness, he's doing really well. All the well wishes, cards, kind words, and prayers are appreciated...and working. Keep 'em coming.

Parenting 101

I took a lot of classes in college, and most of them I didn't end up needing. But my oh my, how I wish there was a class in parenting. Last month I told Pat we would buy the car seat and stroller and create our registry in November. First lesson - be prepared. My idea of prepared was having a bassinet and a plastic bin of hand-me-down clothes. On November 5 I had conferences at work. I had on my "To Do List" to organize my Guided Reading notebook. I did my conferences, and opted to organize notebook Monday. Lesson two- don't procrastinate. From my hospital bed I thought of how embarrassed I would be for someone to see my notebook, lesson learned.  I planned on going to a wedding on November sixth, Mason changed those plans. I knew that after my appointment I would go to Target and buy a gift. Third lesson- kids call the shots.  I'm gonna try the breast feeding thing. This means that I have to pump quite often (I swear it's every hour). Just when I think I can run an errand, my stained shirt tells me otherwise. And when it's 7 a.m. and there is no baby here, I still have to pump. Lesson four- pumping is a beast. There are lots of things I could add to the syllabus for this class, but I know I am a freshman in this class of many. But you sure do learn these lessons mighty fast. I know I am on the fast track to a Ph.D., too bad my pay won't reflect it. I guess Mason will have to be the evidence of my hard work. That's a fair trade.

Progress Report

The NICU just might be getting tired of visitors for "Baby Alston". Grandma Eleanor and MiMi (I'm trying to find a name for Grandma Judy) use their lunch time to go visit with Mason. Pat and I make a visit each day, too.  Mason is probably getting tired of the constant attention, he just wants to sleep. All the visitors were thrilled to visit him yesterday. We got to see him look so peaceful because he did not have the CPAP attached to his nose, or the phototherapy light treating his jaundice. He was just a little baby sleeping with a few probes attached here and there. We had clear sight of his head and face. He made poo number two, too! He had his first taste of mama's milk, also. Finally, all this pumping is gonna pay off. And Pat is the biggest proponent of breastfeeding, so there is no escaping pumping.  MJ's (as so many are calling him) has gained weight. Maybe by next week he'll be a three pounder. Our fingers are crossed, but we'll remain realistic with a preemie. Oh yeah, I'm fine too. My blood pressure is down significantly. The swelling has gone away. I have not had a Percocet in 6 days, and an ibuprofen in 5 days. I even moved my car over a parking space! My first time driving in 12 days. I felt like a teenager who had gotten permission to drive even though they only have a permit. And Pat, or Dad as he has become known as, is doing a fabulous job.

Parenthood

Unlike most people who are thrust into the world of parenthood, we are taking baby steps (pun!). It was not until six days after his birth that I held Mason. It was ten days for Pat. Both of us were extremely cautious because of the cords and hoses that are attached to our baby. You are just about too scared to hold him! Well, more nervous than scared. Pat did hold Mason until her fell asleep. He's one up on me there. Baby Boy Alston (that's what they call him at the hospital and don't get Pat started on that) was sleeping when I held him. Meanwhile, we have both had the opportunity to change a diaper. Consider us talented. We changed a diaper. On a preemie. In an enclosed space.  With hoses attached! Beat that! We both have areas of improvement where diaper changing is concerned. Pat with using the velcro properly. Me with finishing the job (the nurse finished for me since she was assessing him). But all things considered... we were good. We still a few parenting firsts to encounter, but we're pleased with our progress. And despite his feisty attitude, Mason has made no complaints.

That's what friends are for

Pat keeps talking about how great it is to realize who your friends are in a time like this. And I agree. We've had tremendous support via text, Facebook, phone calls, and visits. I never knew I was so popular. And the Ephesus staff has been awesome. However, yes there is a however. However, I recently looked at a pic my sister took of me while in the hospital. Y'all coulda told me i was a porker! I realize the only honest person about my weight during this ordeal has been "Dr. M" (I shall protect her innocence and not state her entire name). Every time I had an appointment with her she would make blunt statements about my weight as soon as she entered the room. Stuff like "Well you sure have gained weight since your last visit." or "Oh yea, your face is swollen." Well guess what? Dr. M was the only honest one in my pregnancy. I was a porker, and no one told me. Thanks a lot folks for not telling me I lost my mojo! I know who my friends are... good 'ol Dr. M.

How's it goin?

Well, Mason entered the world at about 1090 grams now he's a little under that at about  970. Ha! I only did that to make you scratch your head the way I do whenever they report his weight using the metric system! He weighed 2.5 pounds or so, now he's a little under that. He has spent a great deal of time breathing on his own, but recently they gave him the breathing tube so he wouldn't have to work so hard. They weigh his wittle diaper each day, and noticed his urine output was low. It is slowly increasing. In addition, he had an open valve in his heart (common among premies). It is supposed to take 3 doses of meds to see if it took. But being a tough guy, like Pat and me ;), he's looking like he may need only one dose. We'll see if that is the case. Pat has been great! I try to say please whenever I ask him for something. And I ask for a lot. He chauffeurs me back and forth to Duke, and in the wheelchair when we get there. He took me to the store once! Now he won't take me, makes me stay home. Drops me off at Grandmas. And when I drop stuff on the floor he picks it up for me.  And me... I'm doin well. Of course I can say that when they gave me Percocet and Motrin to use in conjunction with each other. I'm pretty mobile which is great to say. We're all doing well, what more could we ask for?

Whose child is this?

Feisty! That is the word that has been used to describe Mason by a few of the nurses. I ain't too feisty, and neither is Pat. So where does this bit 'o attitude come from? And it's always appropriate times that he is demonstrating his feistiness. They try to rotate the babies every four hours for their sleep. However, when put on his side for sleep he got so feisty they relented and put him on his belly (his preferred way to sleep). When a nurse wanted to take his blood, he "fought" her the entire time. In addition, he constantly kicks his itty bitty leg and flails his arm. Now, he was not this feisty in womb. Although I do think he used to do his most moving during events that he did not like (examples- Pat taking me to a pyramid scheme meeting, staff meetings). Also, he kicked the doctor's Doppler when he was listening for a heartbeat on one of my visits. I dunno. Maybe he's the opposite of me. We'll see.

The name game

In May, when I discovered I was pregnant, I was reading random names on the Internet. I said "Mason" and Pat immediately liked it. It quickly became the top name on our list for a boy. (BTW a girl was gonna be Peyton). We decided that we would keep the name to ourselves until delivery, despite folks saying we were no fun for telling. We didn't have a middle name though. We had thought about all sorts of names: cool names, family names, famous Guyanese people (Pat's family is from Guyana, South America). One night I blurted out "Jett" and Pat liked it. I was not sold. We even did an impromptu poll via BlackBerry and texts. The choices- Allen (nice and safe, courtesy of me), Patrick (obvious choice), or Jett (sounded good). Jett was highly popular. Pat was a bit torn because he wanted his boy to have part of him. Mason Patrick Walton?  However, after we had the process of parenthood sped up on November 6, we appropriately decided Jett. And so... Mason Jett Walton it was.

A whole new world

Well, if you talked to me or visited me on November 6 I may not remember too much. I had NO intentions on being a mama so soon. Pat and I had From 2:45 pm Friday 'til 9:41 am Saturday had been a blur. I was doped up.  I was also out of it 'cause they WOULDN'T feed me! I kept asking for food, but they refused. When I finally got "dinner" it consisted of broth, jello (which I hate), and something else dumb. As stated earlier,  I delivered at 9:41 a.m. Despite doing all the work, Pat was the first to see the baby. It was not until that evening that I saw my baby. He was so tiny! And cute. And fragile. And adorable. And I was all dazed and confused. He and I were just together the day before, and now he was in front of me. Yowzers! They weren't even sure if I would meet him Saturday, so they had taken pictures for me. (See, even Dukies can be nice). Well, in the end I was a mama. Pat was a papa. And we had a whole new world

In the beginning...

 Friday at work Mrs. Capps & Mrs. Jenny were concerned with my swelling feet. They encouraged me to stay off of them as much as possible. I assured them I would talk to the doctor that afternoon. I was not too concerned, my pregnancy had been blissful. When I got to the doctor I even sent Pat home to get his forgotten wallet. I knew it would be a short visit. WRONG! They sent me to the hospital for elevated blood pressure and protein in my urine. I was then sent to Duke when my blood pressure would not go down. Duke then decided to put me on ten days bed rest to get me to 32 weeks. Around 3 a.m. I kept feeling like I had to poo. Then I had an "ah ha" moment. I was experiencing contractions. Soon, the doctor told me that they needed to do an emergency C-section. Mama (my mama) was just getting off of vacation (why not go in November...no baby was coming). Kendra, my sister, found out about labor and fired up the car to get here asap. I opted not to tell my Grandma, she can be so dramatic. The UNCGirls were gonna come, but I convinced them to hold their horses. And, Nichole was gonna hit 85-N, but I asked her to wait. Even though I had advised all folks to stay put, Gretchen from work showed up. I'm not sure what she said to Pat while I was getting prepped, but he came in ready to roll. By 9:41 on November 6. I was a mama. And that is the beginning.