It’s all Hallows Eve. Day of the Dead. Children hide themselves within cute and clever costumes (except for a slew of teenagers that showed up at my house). They go door to door in search of fun-sized candy – threatenng tricks to those who dare to proffer raisins or toothbrushes. (Seriously! Who does that?!)
And this year, I have toddlers. So it was with tremendous pride that the muppets cleverly disguised themselves as muppets. Kermit and Fozzie Bear hit the town tonight. Continue reading
So far we’ve tackled air, earth and fire. So today – we took on the water. After applying copious amounts of sunscreen, we set off toward the harbor for a morning snorkel cruise. The boat traveled out to the Kealakekua Bay – home of the Captain Cook monument. (Did you know that stands on British soil?) Continue reading
This break in your regularly scheduled Double Trouble reading is brought to you by Gain laundry detergent and a whole lot of procrastination. Continue reading
Half Baked: The Story of My Nerves, My Newborn, and How We Both Learned to Breathe
Alexa Stevenson is a writer and fellow preemie mom. I’ve never met her, but I feel like I have – I just finished reading her book, “Half Baked: The Story of My Nerves, My Newborn, and How We Both Learned to Breathe.”
Her story is a bit more dramatic than mine. Her’s begins with infertility (don’t they all?), before setting forth on the adventure of IVF. Stevenson discusses her journey throughout this process, and the resulting success of a twin pregnancy. With a light touch, she expresses the joys of constant arfing. She then opens her tragedy to the world.
At 22 weeks (the week I began my own adventures on hospital lock down), Stevenson’s son was discovered “demised” in the womb. Two weeks later, her water broke. She was immediately assigned to permanent hospital confinement (they even took away her bathroom privileges for a bit). Her daughter Simone was born eleven days later – at 25 weeks gestation.
From the beginning, Stevenson chronicled all of her adventures on a blog (FlotsamBlog.com). Infertility, multiples, panic, hospitals and prematurity – now what? Simone almost died, but she didn’t. So as she approached age three, Stevenson put their story in a book.
Damn, she stole my idea.
With hilarity and grace, “Half Baked” is the story of a hypochondriac’s search for motherhood – and the extraordinarily untraditional route she took to get there. No matter the situation, “Half Baked” demonstrates one can always survive by finding the humor within; the self-stated purpose and theme being “persevering with reason and humor.”
If I may be contradictorily philosophical for a moment, despite our differences it is amazing how similar our story is. We both panicked and fretting after learning multiples were on the way; we both insisted on weekly (if not more) ultrasounds, demanding proof of heartbeat; we both railed against medical confinement; and we both became intensely focused on raising our children – Google graduates of information and medical terminology. I even had to go back and read my own blogged experiences after completing Stevenson’s description of her daily NICU routine. Apparently all tiny human intensive care units have the same mandated purple walls.
Not just an ode to her baby girl, this book is a testament to the power of parents unwillingly thrust into the ΠΡΕΕΜΙ sorority (Pi Rho Epsilon Epsilon Mu Iota Eta or PREEMIE). It puts a human face on the theoretical and literal trials of learning to breathe when life throws you a rather inconvenient right cross to the chest – knocking the wind right *out* of you in the midst of your prayers for God to put the wind *into* your babies, along with the knowledge and power to continue inhaling and exhaling repeatedly for The. Rest. Of. Their. Lives.
Excerpt:
A large part of motherhood is about relinquishing control. Generally you have eighteen years for this project, and it happens with a series of steps: the first day of kindergarten, a driver’s license, college. Gradually you accept – or try to – the fact that you cannot keep your baby from harm, not always. Being a mother int he NICU is a painful crash course in this concept, like learning to swim by being dropped into the ocean by a helicopter. In the aftermath of being dumped, flailing, into the Pacific, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to experience an increase in anxiety, even to develop a fear of water altogether. On the other hand, if you were an aquaphobe to begin with, the plunge might do you some good. It’s hard to be afraid of a bathtub after that.
This book should be handed to all NICU parents upon admission. Actually, it should be standard fare alongside the ante-partum sign-in paperwork for all mothers struggling with pre-term labor. Trust me, they’ll have time to read it…
I recommend “Half Baked: The Story of My Nerves, My Newborn, and How We Both Learned to Breathe” to everyone and anyone touched by prematurity – no matter how distantly. This book is a must read for anyone touched by a baby born too soon.
Until my book comes out, of course…
I really can’t be bothered to provide witty anecdotes for the blog right now, Mom. I’m busy playing hard here…
Reading with GrammaJ
When GrammaJ came to visit us this weekend, she looked at our squirmy little muppets and exclaimed how big they are getting. Before we know it, we’ll be closing out the year. This weekend we kicked off the holidays.
On Friday, Jon and Uncle Jeffrey trekked up to the Santa Cruz mountains to cut down a fresh Christmas tree. We’ve always had a fake tree before, so this was our first step toward going all out for the muppets first Yuletide. “That was a lot more difficult than I expected!” Jon announced upon their return.
I think the expectation was that it would be similar to a tree lot. Instead, there was a hill. With trees. “Can I help you?” the guy in the booth asked them. “You have any trees?” Jon replied deadpan? The guy in the booth gestured out to the hill. “We’ve got those.” He handed them a chainsaw and returned to his business.
They wandered the hillside looking for the perfect tree. Although Jon seemed a bit concerned that the winning selection wasn’t as perfect as its plastic predecessor, I am extremely impressed with the one they found. (Charlie Brown, eat your heart out…) Our living room smells amazing! I’d forgotten how awesome it is to walk into a room and be engulfed in the spirit of Christmas (also known as the scent of a Douglas Fir tree).
Tangent: I smell every candle I can find that claims to be that mix of Christmas tree and spiced pinecones. I have yet to find one that comes close to the real thing, so for Christmas’ past, I’d simply liberate fallen branches from the trees sold in front of grocery stores.
After I finished baking a spiced pumpkin roll and Yule Log, (I know, I used my kitchen! These are holiday traditions that must be had – even if the muppets are too young to enjoy them first hand.) we decked the tree. The soft white lights brighten the room and transform the shrubbery from mere foliage to a true holiday symbol. Interestingly, it’s a lot more difficult to hang ornaments on a real tree. The branches are far flimsier. Growing up, Santa left my brother and me an ornament every Christmas. So every year, decorating for the year-end holidays becomes a nostalgic trip down memory lane.
I certainly don’t deny that the winter holidays have always been my favorite time of year. But adding to my frenzied preparations is the hope of starting new traditions with my new family. I remember waking up with my brother every half hour. “Mom! Is it Christmas yet?” I remember Paul and I running to the tree on Christmas morning while Mom and Dad ran equally excited toward the coffee maker. We’d spend the afternoons with family and friends, culminating in a big celebratory dinner.
I want this time of year to be as exciting for Search and Destroy as they grow up, so they can write a similar blog post when they’re great big adults reminiscing about their childhood as they hang years of ornaments celebrating and reminding them of a happy childhood.
The muppets have certainly been good this year; I can only assume they are exceedingly high on Santa’s “nice” list.
What is your favorite holiday tradition?
Happy Mothers Day! This year this day has certainly taken on new meaning for me. So, may every mother and mother-to-be have a wonderful day to remember how much you mean to your loved ones both young and old.
When I was in high school, I thought I was a grown-up.
When I was in college, I wondered when I would actually be a grown-up.
When I got a job, I though people might discover I was just playing grown-up.
When I bought a house, I wondered if I was ready to be a grown-up.
When did I realize I actually was a grown-up? The day I realized, “mom was right.”
Via my extensive observations, being a mom requires you to be a grown-up. It is all about sacrifice. I’ve been told it’s an incredible feeling that overwhelms you when you hold your new child – realizing you’d give anything for them. But let’s take a moment to remember all the much much smaller sacrifices – the ones that begin long before we meet our precious children.
Over the years, I’m sure I’ll have many new memories to share on Mothers Day – from their first steps to the first time both kids are completely and thoroughly embarrassed by their parents (namely a mother who keeps writing about them for the world to read about).
I am in no hurry (are you listening boys), but I am, of course, excited to meet my little dudes in several months time. I hope you and all your little ones (no matter how old) are happy and healthy.
