Holding Hands: Smirker's birth story

I never wrote down my girls’ birth stories. I thought it was about time I did. I’ll try to get as many details as I can right It’s been a while! It’s Smirker’s fourth birthday today (and also mine incidentally). Though she was second born, she gets her story out there first. Here’s to you, birthday buddy.

September 17, 2009- It was about a week before my due date. I was really happy I had gotten that far. Love Monster was born five weeks early and I did not want to go through that again. We knew it was a girl. Though nobody else did. We had a bit of a scare with the triple screen test and were advised to get an amnio. Everything ended up coming back fine, but at the time I needed some immediate good news. So I found out the sex. Everyone else thought we were waiting. It was our little secret. My brother and sister-in-law were in town visiting from Chicagoland. I was feeling good. I was soaking up the last days I’d have with Love Monster as an only child. Man she really was a wild child. (Still is, but, man, back then she really had no restraint.) We were hanging out in the backyard when I started feeling contractions. Now I had a lot Braxton Hicks going on so I thought it was nothing. But I had my sister in law time them anyway and they were coming pretty regularly. Still I thought nothing of it. Two and a half year old Love Monster was keeping me busy not staying still and knocking over everyone’s drinks. That night my sister-in-law met up with a friend and my bro, Smirker’s dad and I hung out at the house. I put Love Monster to sleep. I remember that kiss goodnight. I think I knew inside this would be the last goodnight song I’d sing just to her. (Good night… Good night… again I’d say good night I love my Mack I love her face, I want to kiss her all over the place…) About 10pm my brother headed back to the hotel. Smirk’s dad went to bed. I don’t know if it was the sudden quiet in the house (when Love Monster goes to bed the silence is deafening), but that’s when the contractions started feeling… real. I paged the doc. I called my brother who had just gotten back to the hotel and told them they had to come back and watch LM. It was time.

Between it being four years ago and my mind not feeling clear for obvious reasons, things get a little spotty here.

The car ride. I remember the song “Lighting Crashes” by Live was playing and I hastily changed the channel.

The hospital. We checked in and there was craploads of paperwork. And they kept saying. “What’s your birthdate?” September 18. “Oh wow! You guys are going to have the same birthday.” I remember not really realizing that until that moment. I never thought that would happen. Pretty cool. Me, the normally “I need a lot of attention on my birthday” person was not around. I felt pretty stoked to share.

Birthing room. I waited until 1 am to get an epidural. Sweet relief. It felt very smooth. I remember feeling on a different plane. I know that sounds hokey. But I felt that way. It was a good thing. I felt like my body knew exactly what it was doing. Working just as it should. No nervousness like with LM. It didn’t feel foreign. At 4:15am I pushed out Smirker. Perfect. Tiny. Adorable. A mess of dark hair. Beautiful, melty chocolate eyes. (And no episodemy. YEAH!)

She was here. My birthday sister.

Her dad went back to LM who would wake up not even knowing we had left since everything went so fast.

And then… I started to feel not so right. And I didn’t know how to articulate it to anyone. The pediatrician came in to check on Smirker and she gave me a concerned look, “Are you okay?” I didn’t know the pain was so clear on my face. Truthfully I don’t think I realized I was in pain until then. “No, I’m not,” I said. And she walked quickly to get the nurse. The nurse looked at me. I probably mumbled out something to her. I don’t really remember, but I do remember she said: You just had a baby. You’re going to feel a little pain.

But I had had a baby before. I knew I wouldn’t feel like running a marathon but this was different. Something was wrong. Here’s where things get very foggy. I remember bullet points.

·      I moved rooms. More of a group recovery room. Don’t have any idea why. But Smirker was there so I concentrated on her face.

·      Suppository shoved up the bootie. It felt like shards of glass.

·      I kept looking at Smirks to keep calm.

·      My belly hurt. A lot.

·       Back in my room.

·      Ultrasound

***IT GETS A LITTLE GRAPHIC HERE. SORRY ABOUT THAT.

Then my doctor arrived. She said very kindly, “This is going to hurt. You have blood clots and I have to pull them out.” That’s exactly what it sounds like. I gripped the nurse’s hands. I was grateful that she was a petite Asian woman with small hands, but that was some serious pain. I do not recommend hands up the hoo ha. She pulled out 3 or 4 giant blood clots. I had been bleeding internally and no one knew it.

Everyone was glad that was over, especially me. I held and breast fed Smirker then tried to sleep.  When I woke, I still felt pretty hazy. To be expected I guess. Smirk’s dad brought me my favorite chicken parm dinner from Carmine’s, but I didn’t have the energy to eat it. I lay back in the bed. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t find my voice. I remember feeling like I was fading away. That is what it felt like, like I would just disappear in the bed. I kept my hand in Smirker’s bassinet. Sounds around me were muted. I was cold. Not the normal “Beth is annoyingly cold all the time” cold, but bone deep cold. I do remember thinking. Oh yeah, it’s my birthday. Yay. I know my girls’ dad grabbed the nurse and said things still weren’t right. He sounded far away. At 5am they finally took a blood count. They calmly told me, I had lost over a liter and a half of blood and I needed a transfusion. I had been hemorrhaging all day. The nurses told me later, when they saw the count they had panicked a little at the nurse’s station.

The transfusion. Well that was awesome. Like really awesome. I literally felt myself coming back to life. I totally get the vampire thing. I certainly felt reborn that day. And through this whole thing, little Smirker was there, waiting, perfectly calm. I was completely present with her and did as much as I could that first day until I couldn’t. I missed a few diaper changes and feedings that first 24 hours. But her eyes and soul got me through it. Thank you for holding my hand and continuing to hold it. I love you so much my girl. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, best birthday present ever (minus the whole blood loss thing). 

                                               

Love Monster meeting Smirker for the first time.  

 And perhaps my favorite picture of the two of them. I mean seriously!!! I call it "the accidental flip off."

Rage Against the Mama

There is a seriously dark side to 3-year olds. At least in my experience. Dark might be a little dramatic. I immediately pictured 3 year olds killing their dolls in their sleep or worse. That is NOT happening. Anyway, I’m sticking with dark side. Smirker’s got a serious mean streak. I don’t remember this with Love Monster. I mean, knowing my horrible memory it probably was exactly this way and I blogged about it, but this seems different. Smirker is stubborn. Like really fucking stubborn. Like it’s gotten to the point where I give into her WAY too much. She’s bullies me for candy and I’m like the nerd getting shoved into the locker.

I know. Look at her.

Okay Okay I'll give you my lunch money! I know. No not HER right? She looks like the sweetest! 

Let me give you some examples.

We had pizza one night. Easy right. The girls LOVE pizza. But no Smirks wasn’t in the mood. I gave her a slice and she threw a fit because pepperoni wasn’t covering every square inch. She got so pissed we didn’t have a piece that she envisioned she balled up the piece on her plate until it was an unrecognizable ball of goo. Love Monster studied her the entire time (enjoying her pizza like any normal kid) and at one point said. “ I don’t see any tears mama.” Good observation.

Then there was the time she wouldn’t put on pants. You would think I was trying to make her wear a bee hive. Oh my lord. I took her to Trader Joe’s in her undies.

If she’s not into the dinner I’ve prepared, she will scream “COUSY!” (short for cous-cous) until she gets it.

After a bath if I try to cradle her in my arms she will yell “No baby! Hold me big girl!” Oy.

And then there was the time that I wiped a booger off her face and she burst into tears because she wanted it back. Yeah. That happened.

In the morning when she comes in the cuddle with me she MUST be on the left side of me and if Love Monster has beat her to that spot, its’ WW 3 in what was my wonderfully peaceful bed moments ago.

She has a few go to insults: “crybaby” if she’s pissed off and crying. “You’re not invited to my party!” (Doesn’t matter if a party is soon or not.) And “I’ll poop in your socks!” (though thank goodness she doesn’t.)

Then there’s the time she wanted more ketchup on her plate but when I put it on she got mad because SHE wanted to do it. So she scraped the ketchup off her plate onto mine, put more on her plate, ate a couple bites smiled and walked away. Damn.

Love Monster takes this all in stride. She usually looks at Smirker calmly and reminders her of a manta their dad taught them, “Navarros don’t whine.” I love that.

And I think I’ve already facebooked about the time I wouldn’t give her candy for breakfast (What a bitch of a mom am I???) and she ran to her bedroom, slammed the door and started singing the song she learn from a Barbie movie “HERE I AM! I DO WHAT I WANT! I GIVE WHAT I GOT! NEVER A DOUBT NOW!” By the way at that point I don’t think she’d ever said so many words in a row. So I was sort of stoked AND thought it was hilarious. I let her get away with too much, because she is so damn cute and funny. And she freakin’ knows it.

But what the hell chicky? If any adult acted this way, we would wonder why the hell we hung out with this douchebag.

“She’s just like you, you know,” my fiancé said.

BOOM! Deafening silence.

Grrr. He’s right. (Yep that’s in writing babe. You win. Crochet that on a pillow or something.) And I think I actually still sort of act like this sometimes in my less then stellar moments. Who’s the douche now? Yeah I know I’ve just spent about 600 words basically complaining about my almost 4 year old. But her stubbornness is so epic it was worth a blog post. But even with all of this, she also really is the sweetest. She will say thank you and no thank you without need of a reminder. She cuddles super good. And says stuff like, “You know, I like you a lot.” She gives the best kisses. She also is really into the word “Evil” right now. I find that adorable. And when she’s really mad, I’ve figured out a good trick. Make her accidentally smile. Then the real Smirker comes out. But then that usually backfires and she get even more mad that I made her smile. At least she doesn’t practice her crying in front of the mirror like Love Monster used to. Now that I’ve gotten this out I pledge to not let her be the bully that pushes me in the locker. This is a stage and let’s get through this damn thing.

Huffing Bees

I think it’s about time I introduce you to another member of our household. Bees. Bees the bear.

He’s seen better days. Love Monster got him from one of my best friends days after she was born. You never know which thing they get will become THE ONE. Bees did. 

Then.

And now.

 He’s about to disintegrate. He’s already lost his balls. (The balls in his feet sickos.) His armpits have been stitched up countless times. He can no longer withstand the washing machine so fabreeze is our friend.  And truthfully it’s best we can’t wash him too much. LM hates it when he doesn’t smell like himself.

“I need to smell him!!!!” then Love Monster huffs him like a fume addict huffs their static cling spray before getting out of the car for school. It brings her so much comfort. He’s as real and important to her as anyone in our family. And I have to admit he’s as real to me too.

So Love Monster, tell me, what is it about Bees that makes him so special?

He’s soft. I like smelling him.

Cool. What do you like doing with him?

I like sleeping with him a lot.

Gonna let that elephant of a joke in the room go. Anything else you’d like us to know about Bees?

He’s allergic to pepper. He told me so.

That’s another thing. He talks. Not like pull a string and he’ll talk. LM is his ventriloquist. His voice sounds like a raspy old vaudevillian woman’s which makes sense because he stars in their clown shows often times. I could have a made a killing off the girls in the early 1900’s. Their show rocks by those standards.

He’s traveled with us to Chicago. He is her guy. Her best friend. Her keeper of secrets. But she also knows the limits. He only comes in the car or stays at home. No where else. This because he’s getting too tattered and because we’ve had one too many emergencies because we left him somewhere. And that is a disaster. No matter what time or where we are, he must be retrieved.

It’s an interesting phenomenon, I think, when your kid has that lovie that they attach too. (Or maybe I just have too much time on my hands.) I find nothing wrong with it. We adults have things we are attached to. It might not be a teddy bear. Maybe it’s our computer, favorite book, that perfectly worn in tee-shirt. It’s our stress reliever. Bees gives LM that little bit of comfort that she needs sometimes. Bees was the first being she loved, outside her papa and I. Her first sibling, before Smirker came into this world. He’s pretty special. I hate to see his tatters and frays, but Love Monster doesn’t mind them. It means he loves me, she told me once. Yes it does.

Smirker minus her Red Hot Chili Pepper

My tummy hurts.

Smirker came into my room every hour starting at midnight on May 2.

My tummy hurts.

How many times do we hear that as parents? A lot. It could be anything. Gas. A bad piece of cheese. A ploy to get into mama’s bed, which is what I was betting on that night. In the morning she had a fever and still was insistent on the tummy pain. My fiancé said “Hmmm that could be the appendix.” Nah. I thought. Couldn’t be. I’ll keep her here at work from home today. She’ll probably poop out her tummy trouble. But my fiancé’s words nagged in my head. My girl looked miserable, but none of the usual flu-like stomach symptoms. Then she said something that sealed the deal. “I need to go doctor.” She hates the doctor. “I need to go doctor, Mama.” I them called right away.

The pediatrician sent us to the ER after she asked Smirker where her tummy hurt and she pointed to the right side of her belly every time. I stopped and home and grabbed essentials: ipad, computer, chargers, Dora blanket, lambie, monkey and cow. And off to the ER we went.

We valeted. (How L.A. are we?) and waited. Smirker’s dad met us there and finally they  called her in to get her vitals. I braced myself for this to go badly. She sees scrubs, she screams in terror. But she was good as can be and it worried me. Is she feeling that horrible? Well after looking at her it was a combo of two things. She felt like shit. That was for sure. But she had dreamy eyes.

“She is so good!” The tech getting her blood pressure said. Yeah for you. He was young and cute and she was flirting hard core. She bat her lashes. For real. Where do they learn this??? Oy. That’s my girl.

Then we are put in an ER room. And they say it’s time for an IV. She needs fluids. She screamed and cried while they got the IV in. Where was hot tech guy when we needed him??? Meanwhile they were trying to distract me with ER forms. I could barely fill them out. I clutched the clipboard to my chest, sort of scrawled out some info and stared at Smirker. The nurse asked me if I was sketching. Looking at my stance that’s what it looked like. Weird moment. Nope. Just freaking out my three year old is in the ER and getting needles shoved in her. They put her in a space koala hospital gown, which she liked because it was purple. And we waited for them to take us up to get an ultrasound. Then we would get some answers.

They wheeled in an ancient TV and VCR and we watched Pocahontas before finally she had to pee! Urine sample time! Whoo hoo!. She thought it was silly that they wanted her pee, but it went well. Finally they were ready for her ultrasound. They pushed Smirker and her dad in a wheelchair up to the ultrasound room. I practically ran to keep up. (Those transport guys are fast!) I lay with her in the bed while they gooeyed up her stomach with the ultrasound thingy. Smirker was so good. She kept saying, “Make me better? Make me better?” Yeah babe soon. The ultrasound tech was tight lipped as they usually are. And we went back to our room to wait once more for the doc’s results.

About an hour later, the surgical resident came in and said, “Yes we need to take her appendix out. Rare in someone this young.”

This whole time I was sure they would send us home. I was sure they’d say, ahhh she’s just constipated. But nope. My little three-year-old is going to have surgery. And yes I know this is routine. This is the appendix for godsake.  This is common. But I did not like this one bit. Surgery was scheduled for 9:00pm. They don’t want to take a chance that the appendix might burst. So officially checked in we were.

Checking into her hospital room was surreal. The last time I was in a room like this was when I delivered her. And here we were again.

I ran home while her dad stayed with her. I showered and grabbed a change of clothes. My fiancé had a bag packed for me and told me to tell Smirker that he bought “rainbow” for her. (She’s addicted to Rainbow sherbet.) They took us on a ride down to the surgical ward. Smirks liked riding in her bed. I rode with her. She giggled a lot. I think she was nervous. We waited by the nurse’s station. They doted on her. I haven’t mentioned this yet, but every single person Smirks has met is enamored. Well she is the freakin cutest! They hook her up with a stuffed cat and an ipad and she watches old Wile E Coyote cartoons.

Then the anesthesiologist comes and says. “Ok. I’m going to give her some happy juice so she’s ok when we take her away from you.” (PASS THAT HAPPY JUICE OVER HERE PLEASE!)

The happy juice is awesome. I can tell. Smirker takes her new cat and proceeds to make him pee on my face. “Mama, cat pee on your face!” The nurses laugh and say it must be the before surgery cocktail, but little do they know this is the normal shit she would say. Then they say it’s time to go. I climb out of the bed and they push her down the hall. She waves goodbye deliriously like she was off to the fair. I could practically see the pinwheel in her hand. Her dad and I went to the waiting room and set our clocks for one hour. And we watch that bloody ass Hannibal TV show for some fucked up reason.

The surgeon comes out (who is AWESOME). “It went perfectly. Her appendix needed to be out that’s for sure. But we caught it before it burst. It was a little red hot chili pepper.”

My first thought was, Can I take it home? But I told myself to let that idea go.

Then they let me go into recovery. This is a new thing I think. They let parents of small kids go in now. I didn’t like it in there. The vibe is strange. I see Smirker. She’s just coming out of the anesthesia. Have you seen someone come out of anesthesia? It’s scary. She had all sorts of tubes and monitors connected to her and she was freaking out, contorting herself, arching her back, eyes squeezed shut. And she was calling for me, “Mama! I want mama!” She wouldn’t keep the oxygen mask on. She kept pulling it off, but she needed it. So they put her in my arms in a chair next to the bed and had me try to hold it on. “I’m here. I’m here.” I whispered to her. She calmed and fell asleep again. I held the mask over her face. After a while I put her back in the bed and climbed in next to her. I stayed with her until they felt she was ready to go.

I looked over and a nurse walked in just starting her shift and our eyes connected. She looked confused for a second then saw Smirker and smiled. “Oh I was going to say, you look great for just having surgery!”

I took a look at Smirker’s bandage over her belly button. It was a heart. That made me feel better in the moment.

Back in her room I watcher her sleeping peacefully and thought how gorgeous she looked even after surgery. Seriously. The night went pretty well. She woke once to pee and didn’t quite make it and didn’t want to walk. But fell asleep after a crazy few minutes.

The next day she woke to my parents (who live in Chicago) at her bedside. That’s another thing. I called my mom and dad when I knew she had to go into surgery. Without missing a beat, they said, “We’re flying out first thing in the morning.” They really are the best.

“I want iPad,” Smirker said. “And purple nails.”

Anesthsia didn’t change my girl a bit. She spent most of the day watching movies and playing Candy Maker on my iPad. She and her Nama planned the week they would have (purple nails included) and my dad wheeled her around the peds floor in a wagon.

“Love Monster miss me,” Smirker said at one point.

“Yeah. We’ll see her soon,” I said.

She was a great patient. Except for when it came time to take her Tylenol. And it didn’t help that the nurse would only push the plunger down a TINY bit when Smirker finally let her give it to her. JUST DO IT ALL AT ONCE. I wanted to scream. But nope. So Smirker started getting cranky. At one point I tried to clean her face with a wash cloth and she was so pissed I did that she licked her hand and wiped it on her face over and over saying “No clean! No clean!” When I giggled she wiped her face even harder with her saliva soaked hand. Man she needed pain medication and sleep. Stat.

They let us go later that afternoon, even though Smirker refused to try and walk. And the long awaited Smirker/Love Monster reunion commenced! Within minutes LM accidentally smacked her sister in the stomach. Should have seen that coming.

By the next day Smirker realized that taking Tylenol would make her feel better and she started walking again. She was a little guarded with her tummy, but other than that. She was totally back to normal.

Chalk that up to an obligatory parent experience. I was in my kitchen after putting Smirker to sleep the night we came home. I threw away a peanut butter cup wrapper and I started crying. My fiancé hugged me as he realized it just hit me.  I had been in strong mom mode for about 24 hours straight and that chocolate peanut butter perfection brought down my armor. You hear that saying “Your kids are your heart outside your body.” I mean I still put my hand in front of their mouths when they are sleeping to make sure they are breathing. There are times that that saying is painfully clear. What hurts you the most is when someone you love more then anything is hurting. And this was only her appendix.