Tuesday, February 28, 2012

last Friday night

I wasn't sure if I wanted to write about this.

It was by far one of the scariest moments of my life. It was also not one of my proudest. I let my fear take over me in a way that I rarely do, and I had to confront once again what happened to me the day after Valentine's Day, when we went in eager to hear our baby's heartbeat and left with having to make a decision of the best way to help my body miscarry a tiny child that had passed away only days before.

It happened deep into the night of last Friday, the first week anniversary of my D&C.

That Friday morning, Grayson had started running a fever, and by his nap, it was 101.6. He had a terrible but long nap, waking several times not moving and only crying, falling back asleep after I shushed him and stroked his sweaty hair off his neck. By the end of the day, he was still running a fever, yet we had no other symptoms that anything was wrong. I thought maybe it was just a cold about to manifest itself since I had just gotten over one, but we just didn't know.

Grayson went to bed early that night, clearly not feeling well. We watched him as we stayed up a few more hours. He barely moved from his stomach-down position besides turning his head side to side.

I woke up sometime after midnight to what I thought were Grayson's cries. They sounded weak and pitiful, like a baby trying to cry out but unable to muster up much strength. I rolled over and turned on the video monitor.

G was still in the same position he had been when we went to sleep. He was clearly not crying.

I stared at him for what seemed like a long time, trying to blink the sleep from my eyes and concentrate on his back. I stared for the tell-tale signs of his back slowly rising and falling, or for a twitch of his feet, or for any other sign of life. I stared and stared and saw nothing.

I was still calm. I touched Dave who was sleeping next to me, and he woke up easily. I asked him to look at the monitor to see if G was breathing. Dave watched for a while and never said anything.

I still stayed calm. "I'm going downstairs to check on him," I said. "Let me know if he moves." I put on my robe and went downstairs. I opened the door to G's dark room, and as I walked to his crib, he never moved. My hand didn't tremble as I placed it on his back, but I could feel my heart thudding in my chest.

His body was a little warm beneath my hand. I waited, expecting to feel the movement of his breathing, and I waited, but I couldn't feel anything.

My hand moved to his shoulder and I shook it gently. Nothing. I called his name softly, expecting him to shift a little in sleep. Nothing. I shook his shoulder harder, rocking his little face-down body side to side, and called his name again and again, my voice becoming louder and more shrill.

Still, nothing.

"Dave!" I ran to the door and turned on the light. I heard Dave moving upstairs. I turned to run back to the crib and made it halfway across the room when I heard it.

Grayson's wail.

I know when I bolted to his side, the light was off again. I must have turned it off before going to him, or maybe the dimmer was on the lowest setting, so that's why I couldn't see him clearly in the dark. He hadn't moved from his belly-down position or opened his eyes. But he was crying the sound he makes when he's frightened.

I had scared him.

His body was limp when I took him out of the crib. He folded his tiny body into me, immediately laying his head on my shoulder, still crying. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Mommy's sorry," I said into his ear. I cupped his head with my free hand, offering as much comfort as I could. My body was shaking. I was trying to hold it together and failing.

He stopped crying fairly quickly. I don't think he ever even opened his eyes. After a while, I put him back in his crib. He found his paci laying somewhere nearby and fell back asleep.

Of course, I completely broke down when I made it back upstairs. I had truly believed for a moment that something was seriously wrong with Grayson, that he was seriously sick or even, so terrible to say, dead. I felt horrible for projecting my own fears onto G, and for so thoroughly shaking up my husband that he barely slept the rest of the night.

After losing baby #2, I feel as though my life is on shaky ground. A 1 in 1,000 chance happened to me, and I don't know how I can ever recover from that. We think, "oh, it would never happen to me," but it did. I hope that night was just a combination of paranoia over Grayson's sickness and some dream I had before checking on him. I hope I won't always be checking over my shoulder with a lack of faith that my life can remain stable and happy, that my children won't be stolen from me without any warning.

That's not any way to live. And I certainly don't want to become overprotective with G, always afraid that he'll break a bone or suddenly run in front of a car. I hope to eventually find peace again.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

I'm going to the ZOOoooooo

I need some giggles, so it's time for a Grayson says.

Mama took me to the zoo on Thursday because it was 74 degrees outside! I looooved being outside, and I didn't even want to go to the indoor aquarium area for once.

Come on, mama! Let's go!

I ran around like this. This is my happy strut.

I think there's a monkey over there.

What was I doing?

Oh yeah. Touching this.

I love the meerkats. And their sign. Oh, how I loved that sign.

This bridge near the flamingos was fun. I ran back and forth. And back and forth. And... back and forth again, until mama got tired of watching me and made me keep walking.

I was kinda unamused that she made me leave.

Oh, strike a pose time? Okay.

I love looking at water, so the bamboo trail is one of my favorite places at the zoo. I would point at an animal, complain about it, then go run back to stare at the waterfalls.

 But my favorite part of all? My FAVORITE??

OMG, these ropes? It was kinda love at first touch.

I would move those ropes up and down. Then up and down. Then up and down again!

And sometimes I would pause and laugh about it. These ropes? They were hilarious.

And I would look at mama. Mama? I love these freakin' ropes.

And sometimes, I'd just grab the rope and yell and laugh really loud for no reason.

Best. part. of. my. day.

Afterward, I was so pent up with energy that I helped mama push the stroller.

I hung out on a bench for a while, and after that, I got kinda cranky. Mama put me in the stroller where I hung out happily as we headed out the zoo.

I hope we go back really soon. I'm glad mama brought the stroller this time. Man, the zoo can be exhausting. Especially that rope playground.

Friday, February 24, 2012

dumping forth from the brain

What an exhausting week! But I survived my first week without baby, so there it goes.

Friday Brain Dump
because my brain? it be fried.

  1. So, biggest mention on my mind, week one since my D&C is over. I've learned a lot of things this week, such as if you tell people you are ready to talk on the phone about The Miscarriage, make sure you are ready to talk on the phone about The Miscarriage. I was, but I wasn't prepared for how many people actually wanted to talk about It. Also: be careful about bringing It up before other people do. Awkward.
  2. Flowers are awesome. The hubs brought me pink roses today in celebration of baby's life. I so love that man.
  3. G and I took advantage of the 74 degrees, with abundant sunshine and a brisk wind, yesterday and headed to the zoo. I have lots of pictures on my camera to upload, so I'll post a funny and not-miscarriage-related post tomorrow.
  4. Speaking of the toddler, G is sick. At least, we think he's sick with the cold I caught last week. He woke up with a fever and it was 101.6 by nap time. He's got only a tiny one now, so I'm hoping for the end of the fever part tomorrow. Can we not just have it easy for a few days? I told the hubs - well, I kinda just demanded - that next weekend, I get Twilight and ice cream. He didn't argue with me!
  5. My OB's office totally coded my D&C as an abortion. I'm pretty ticked about it because it means that my insurance denied the claim. I'm hoping the phone call on Monday makes this an easy fix. One moment I'm okay, and the next I'm crying because something like this slams what happened right into my face.
Gah, I can't even make my brain dumps non-depressing. I promise a cute toddler zoo post to make up for it.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Guest Blog: letter from Daddy

The hubs wanted to write to the baby, so here it is. I so love this man of mine.

I have tried to write this a half dozen ways at this point. For three days I wrote bits here, parts there, all the while being generally at a loss for words. Nothing worked, nothing fit, nothing felt right… then I realized my problem. I don’t want to write a blog. I don’t want to write my feelings, or my thoughts about this. All I’ve ever really wanted to do was talk to my child, the little lost one.

My precious little Baby,

I miss you. I never even had a chance to know you, but I miss you terribly.

Please forgive me if I ramble. Your Dad does that sometimes.

I only saw you the once, when you were 9 weeks old. You waved your little foot at me as if to say ‘hi,’ and commenced wiggling away for a solid five minutes, the whole time we watched you. I like to think that you never suffered or knew that anything was wrong. In my mind you never knew anything but that happy wiggling.

I cannot tell you how much I want to apologize for all the things we’ll never do. I was days away from starting The Hobbit, reading to you while you dozed within Mama. I wanted to do all the things that would come with life… I wanted to sing you to sleep, dance with you, read with you, laugh with you.

I’m sorry that I barely had a chance to say goodbye. When Mommy went into surgery, they took you both away far too quickly. I was hoping for a moment of privacy, a minute, a second… something to have a chance to say goodbye to you. But sooner than I was ready (I could have ever been ready?) they just started moving. My goodbye was too quick, but I hope you heard it, and I hope it was enough.

I hate to say that I’m almost a little mad at you (though I never truly could be). I’m mad at you for breaking your mother’s heart so irreparably. There you were, so much of her life, and then you just went away. I know it’s not your fault, but you’ve left me playing the role of the healer instead of the healing… trying to act as if I’m not hurting so that maybe, just maybe, your Mama wouldn’t be sad either… You would be proud of your brother, though. He’s been a great help to your Mama, filled with hugs and giggles. I’m so glad he’s here to help her, because Mama would be lost right now without him to focus on.

My Baby. You were supposed to be the final piece of the family puzzle, now you’ll always be the missing piece. No matter what we do, how much we try, how many children we have… we’ll always be missing you. I want you to know that. No matter if we have another child, it will always, in my heart, be child number three. You are a part of this family, forever.

Because of you there’s been a song stuck in my head for nearly a week now. Even while I’m singing to your brother this song is in my head. It’s just the chorus I hear, over and over again.

I miss you. I miss you. I miss you, I wanted you to know.
I miss you. I miss you. I miss you, and I still love you so.

Good night, Baby. Daddy loves you.

Monday, February 20, 2012

a pound of flesh

I gained three pounds in the 14 weeks I carried baby #2. This was way better than the eight or so I'd gained with G by the end of the first trimester. I was kinda excited about the idea that I might not gain so much weight this time around, especially because I was still carrying nine or so pounds from G. Dave and I had been talking about it just before my OB walked in to start the appointment. I had been so happy at that moment.

After the D&C, I weighed myself. I had lost a pound of those three I had gained with baby. A pound of baby and fluid and placenta was gone. As I dressed for work this morning, I realized that I don't even look pregnant anymore. I just look plump, a little thick around the waist. I lost a pound of baby; the other two are just the me that's left. I kind of hope my lack of appetite will help me lose some more.

I've been really cold since Saturday. I could tell my higher pregnant lady body temperature had dropped back down to a normal level. Instead of demanding that the ceiling fan be on during the night, I turn it off and huddle beneath mounds of blankets.

The nausea went away almost immediately. This was probably helped along by the patch they placed under one of my ears, but I took that off late Saturday and haven't had problems since. Is it sad that I almost miss this constant sign of pregnancy? I would give anything to be bent over the toilet right now, throwing up lunch because of baby's presence in my belly.

I'm dealing with a lot of skin breakouts, moreso than I even did with baby. My guess is the shifting hormones, everything settling back into normal not-pregnant me. I don't ache as much as I did, and pretty soon I doubt I'll need the pillow between my legs at night.

Overall, the recovery from the D&C has been easy. Little pain as long as I don't push myself, bleeding that slowed quickly after the first day, some tiredness but my painkillers can cause that. Of course, my heart will take much longer to heal. I have had dreams every night of a tiny red hand reaching toward me. I suppose eventually the crying will stop, as will the dreams. Eventually, we'll move on, maybe if we get pregnant again, maybe before that.

For now, I hold my toddler close.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

the day after

I was swimming from deep underwater, trying to reach the top to breathe. A few seconds later, I did burst through to air, gasping in a huge breath as I made it.

I was crying.

My OB told Dave that my first words upon awakening were "It waved at me." It meaning the baby.

The first thing I remember was calling out for my baby, tears streaming down my face. I was back where I had started, in a small room with a curtain separating me from the hallway. The curtain was open, and I could see various nurses and other hospital staff walking around. Some looked at me, some didn't. No one said anything.

I had forgotten to say goodbye. I kept putting it off, not wanting to say it, not wanting to think it. I figured I could mourn and say goodbye right before they put me under. I barely remember being wheeled from that curtained room into the operating room. I do remember being so so cold in the operating room, and someone, maybe a nurse, explaining it was that way because all of the lights would cause the room to heat up soon.

I went under anesthesia and woke up to a panic attack.

"I didn't get to say goodbye," I said to no one in particular. "I need to say goodbye. Where is my baby? Can I see my baby? I want to hold my baby."

The moments after I fully woke seemed to stretch out forever to me before Dave came into the room. I hate that he saw me like that, but I did start to relax once I saw him. I woke up more fully and became more rational. Of course I couldn't hold my baby, and of course I couldn't see it. He or she was off to be examined, and then later cremated in a mass ceremony for all fetuses born that day. Becoming more fully aware of my reality did little to comfort.

The D&C went as well as could be expected. Dave says my OB was practically beaming when she came to speak with him in the waiting room. She had warned both of us that the baby was almost too large for a D&C, being 14 weeks along, and the surgery would be more difficult than they usually are for her. It could take anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour. It took her only 20 minutes. My body was ready, she said, either from the drugs they gave me - stronger than Pitocin - or because I was closer to miscarrying on my own anyway. I had cramped all that morning, so I figured it was a little of both.

My OB had used an ultrasound to guide her during the procedure. She told Dave that it had been obvious why the baby had not survived. Little kiddo had something wrong with its brain, a defect that was always fatal. Babies typically didn't survive even this long. My baby had been such a fighter.

We had a little consolation that there was nothing that we could have done to either prevent what happened or fix it. Every pregnancy has the same chance of this happening, no matter what you do or how many vitamins you take or how much you exercise or whatever. It's a fluke, a freak development. No one's fault. We'll find out more about what exactly happened to baby at my follow-up appointment in 1-2 weeks. However, my mind and heart are lifted a little by knowing it wasn't just some random infection that killed my baby.

Once I could get up and pee, we were allowed to go home a little over an hour after I woke. I fell asleep on the way home, woke up, and immediately had to throw up the small cup of water I drank at the hospital before leaving. Besides that one bout of nausea, I have felt fine. I've got good painkillers in me, and I only really feel pain when I get up and move around.

The last couple of days have felt so surreal to me. Pregnant, then not pregnant. So excited to have a newborn in the house again come August, then having to go home without a baby inside of me. I've put everything behind me for the moment, work, school, everything. My heart is healing, but I don't think it'll ever be the same again.

But come next week, I have to restart life. I have a 20-month-old on which to focus. G has been a huge healing factor for me. My oh-so sweet toddler has been giving me lots of hugs and cuddles, almost like he understands that Mommy is sad and needs them right now. When I came home with a hospital band on one arm and a large bandage covering my IV site on the other, G immediately focused on them. His little chubby face was so serious. He would touch one object on my arm, then the other. He would get up from my lap and touch them again. He would pick out another book to read, then touch them once again as he sat back down on my lap. His concern was obvious and it touched me deeply.

Dave and I are allowed to try again for another baby after I have a period or two. We're not quite sure what we want to do - I feel like I haven't mourned this baby enough, but maybe I'll be ready in a few months. Maybe I won't ever be truly ready again.

I woke up crying after the surgery. I haven't cried since. Maybe I'm just cried out. Maybe I'm glad it's over and I can start to heal. Maybe I'm just numb inside. A part of me left with that baby yesterday afternoon and I won't ever get it back.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

I'm sitting here, unable to sleep. Whenever I sing this to G, he immediately relaxes and lays his head on my shoulder. I know baby #2 wasn't ever able to hear my voice, but it seems appropriate to me now, on the eve of my D&C.

You are my sunshine
my only sunshine
You make me happy
when skies are gray
You'll never know, dear
how much I love you
please don't take my sunshine away


Because I'm a writer, I have to write this.

I'm  starting this post at 12:30 at night, Thursday morning. I'm not sure when I'll post it. I've been watching the clock as time moved into the next day, and the worst day of my life turned into yesterday. I'm wishing right now that yesterday was just a nightmare I just woke up from, and that tomorrow won't bring yet another nightmare I won't be able to forget.

I had started a different post yesterday but never got around to finishing it. I was going to title it "My Valentine's Day from h. e. double hockey sticks." Cute, right? My Valentine's Day really sucked hardcore.

I was going to write about how I threw up all over myself on the way to work. You know. The usual pregnant lady bitching about the nausea and why isn't it over yet? What a way to start Valentine's Day. I also got chocolate that morning, though, and chocolate can make most things better. Right?

I was going to write about how, yesterday afternoon, G busted his eyelid on the coffee table. He dropped his sippy cup on the floor, bent to pick it up, and somehow didn't see that coffee table coming out of nowhere.

We can joke about it now, but at the time there was blood and a lot of talk about stitches. We were told to go to the children's ER, so off we went. After making it through triage, we waited two and a half hours only to be told, hmm, you know, it's more superficial than anything, so we'll leave it alone. We made it home late after being at the hospital for almost four hours. Poor G hadn't eaten since 3 o'clock because stitches near a toddler's eye means sedation, so we'd been told not to give him anything. Yeah, I'm still kind of pissed about that.

I was going to write about the super awesome Valentine's Day package my mom sent us in the mail. G still hasn't gotten to open it, though.

Of course, Valentine's Day is now the day before yesterday.

Yesterday, we had a routine monthly exam at the OB to see how baby #2 was doing. We had G with us since it should have been a simple in-and-out visit. I believe my words were, as my OB squirted gel onto my stomach, "I can't wait to hear the heartbeat for the first time."

I guess I should have kept my mouth shut.

The seconds ticked by. My OB searched and searched and searched for that heartbeat. I stared up at the ceiling. Where are you, baby? Say hi for mommy, okay? Stay calm, stay calm.

My OB left and returned with a rather old ultrasound machine. We were probably the last appointment of the day, and not many people were still around. It was pretty easy to see that there was no movement in the chest cavity to indicate a heartbeat.

I think that's when I started crying. My OB didn't say much yet, but I knew. Oh, I knew. She mentioned that the head seemed misshaped. I asked if that was because the baby had started to decay. She said probably, yes. I don't think anyone ever said, your baby has died. Maybe there are some things that just don't need to be said.

My OB called around to find a real ultrasound technician. It took a while, but one was found. They stayed late for us, taking measurements of the baby. The technician asked if I wanted to watch the monitor. I didn't hesitate and said yes. I owed my baby that much, to catch my last glimpses of him or her. I couldn't look away now.

The baby didn't look that bad. I saw a head, the body, some hands, some feet. It was beautiful. Hi, baby. I'm sorry Mommy couldn't protect you. I'm sorry we can't meet you in August like we were supposed to. The technician scanned the chest cavity and the heart rate pattern came up. Only straight lines. I'm sorry we never got to actually hear your heartbeat. It was so strong at 9 weeks. I love you, I love you, I love you.

The technician didn't say much. I was handed tissue by various people. I did ask her how far along the baby was measuring and she said 14 weeks. I was 14 weeks along that day. The baby had likely passed sometime in the past few days.

We went back to our OB. The office was pretty much shut down, with just her and her nurse there. We talked about why this might have happened (who knows?) and since it was my first miscarriage, it didn't raise my chances of having another (though it was a later miscarriage), and here were the options of how to pass the baby (naturally or D&C; we've now decided to do the latter).

She gestured at G, who was in Dave's arms and being so patient. She said to focus on what we had, that we had proved a pregnancy of ours could turn into something so beautiful.

I nodded. But inside, I was selfish. I wanted my other beautiful baby too.

She said she could probably do a D&C on Friday, if we wanted. That's what we've decided to do now. Apparently passing a baby this far along naturally can be very painful. I want to do what's best for me, and I also want to do what gives my baby the most dignity.

I'm not at all grossed out by the fact that I'm still carrying my baby right now. I won't be able to ever hold him or her in my arms, but I can hug he or she with my whole body for the next two days. I can whisper that I love him or her, I can say I'm sorry, and I can promise that I will see them again one day. 

Tomorrow, I will be put under anesthesia, with a breathing tube down my throat. When I wake up, my baby will be gone. I won't get to see him or her or take him or her home with me. I won't be pregnant anymore. I'll have to finally make myself say goodbye. The image I want burned into my brain for the rest of my life isn't one from these last few days - the misshapen body of my baby, the heart rate monitor that showed no heartbeat, how much flatter my belly will be tomorrow evening.

I want, most of all, to remember how much my baby, looking perfectly healthy, moved at our first ultrasound at almost 9 weeks. How he or she wiggled hands and feet and threw that head about, testing the waters of this newfound movement. I will cherish the images we have of our second child, and think, so very often 

Mommy loves you.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

13 Ways to Raise a Nonreader

My kiddo may not speak much... at all. But he certainly has a love of reading. We started reading to him regularly pretty much as soon as he could focus on something like a book. Now we can read through 10 books, and he's still begging for more.

I'm working on getting my teaching license right now. In my literacy class, we read this list of what NOT to do if you want to have a child who loves reading. It amused me, and also gave me a few things to think about, such as books on tape.

My comments are in italics. Because I can't help myself.

13 Ways to Raise a Nonreader
from The Horn Book Magazine, 2001

1. Never read where your children can see you.
haha, it's hard to read in front of him because he wants to play with my book

2. Put a TV or computer in every room. Don't neglect the bedroom and kitchen.
kinda guilty? we have one in the living room and in our bedroom.

3. Correct your child every time she mispronounces a word.
reading for fun should be for fun!

4. Schedule activities every day after school so your child will never be bored.
if they don't have time to read, they won't read.

5. Once your child can read independently, throw out the picture books. They're for babies.
as a kid, I loved reading a variety of books - picture books, young adult, and a few from the adult section of the library.

6. Don't play board games together. Too dull.
no problem here. we have a huge collection of board games.

7. Give little rewards for reading. Stickers and plastic toys are nice. Money is even better.
I was surprised by this one. No rewards for a reluctant reader?

8. Don't expect your children to enjoy reading. Kids' books are for teaching vocabulary, proper study habits, and good morals.
no-brainer, right?

9. Buy only 40-watt bulbs for your lamps.

10. Under no circumstances read your child the same book over and over. She heard it once, she should remember it.
G knows which books are his favorite. He usually wants to read Wocket in my Pocket four times in a row.

11. Never allow your child to listen to books on tape; that's cheating.
I'll admit, I sometimes think of books on tape as cheating.

12. Make sure your kids only read books that are "challenging." Easy books are a complete waste of time. That goes double for comic books and Mad magazine.
We have a modest but sizable collection of graphic novels and manga. The Mad magazine comment cracks me up, though.

13. Absolutely, positively, no reading in bed.
oh, but that's the best spot!

Monday, February 6, 2012

happy (beleated) 20 months!

My kiddo is officially in the 20s! As the hubs said, one more month and he can drink.

Cough cough. Ahem.

I'm pregnant and lazy right now, so here are some recent phone pics.

Dear G,

I see more and more boy in youand less baby. You're still my baby G, though. pout.

You popped out another tooth, your first incisor, this month, so that makes 13. The other three are on the move. Maybe you'll get those before 21 months, hmm?

You've hit a new level of tantrum mode lately. We tend to let you stew for a minute or so, then we try to distract and therefore calm you down. I'm sure it'll only get worse - goodie! You're also in whine mode a lot, so we're working on dealing with that appropriately. The lack of speech certainly isn't helping with communication. You unfortunately haven't improved since last month. We were advised to wait until 22 months at least before calling Early Intervention back, and I have a feeling we'll be giving them a call then. You love to babble, G, but you're just not forming any actual words.

You're so much fun to be around. You love hugs, kisses, and cuddles. You love to sit next to me on the couch and play with your toys. You'll willingly give kisses and hugs back, but you're also fond of shaking your head and running away. Ha! Little stinker.

Love you so much, G! I know you'll be such a fantastic big brother to your sibling.

Friday, February 3, 2012

what does my kid eat?

Getting a toddler to eat can be a tricky thing. G refused to eat sweet potato (one of his favorite foods) for like a month. We stopped offering for a while, then decided to try it again. He gobbled it down like there had never been any problem.

Toddlers are weird like that.

Once G was starting to eat finger foods, we had quite a few battles where he was turning down pretty much everything. Quickly, we agreed that the food battles had to end. G would eat when he was hungry and not eat when he wasn't - there wasn't much we could do about it. We try to offer at least 3-5 foods, and if he makes it clear he doesn't want one, then we don't stress. We simply put it away and move onto the next food. No big deal.

I thought I'd write up a breakdown of what the kiddo eats. With lunch and dinner, we try to offer a veggie, a starch/grain, and a fruit. Sometimes we had some cheese or yogurt. He drinks 15-20 ounces of whole milk a day too, with one large sippy right when he wakes, another large sippy after lunch which he almost never finishes, and a little more after dinner.

For the record, G is hardly interested in sweets. He loves a chocolate bar or pudding, if you can get him to even try it. He might try what you offer but he rarely goes "mmm" and wants more.

We also haven't introduced peanut butter yet. We'll likely try it soon after he turns two.

Oatmeal with fruit mixed in
Wheat toast with regular or strawberry cream cheese or butter and natural preserves
Yogurt with fruit
Banana pancakes
Cheese omelete

Wheat cheerios
Some kind of puff
Wheat goldfish or baby goldfish 

Lunch and Dinner:
Grapes (in moderation)
Cantalope (he'll sometimes eat it)

Green beans with tomatoes
Almost any kind of bean, like kidney
Refried beans in a quesadilla
Black-eyed peas
Green peas
Sweet potato

Rice (once in a blue moon)
Graham crackers (with no honey)
Sweet potato
Whole wheat toast
Cheese ravioli

Shredded chicken in a quesadilla

Overall, I'm pretty happy with his eating habits. We're slowly trying to introduce new foods to eat him to expand his palate. He's always been picky with textures, so he was slow to eat tougher foods. Even now, pears and such have to be really ripe before he'll touch them. He'll sometimes try things, like salad or mac and cheese, eat one or two bites, and then he's done. I can't for the life of me get him to eat a piece of quesadilla that's cut into a triangle - he likes it cut into little squares. Go figure!

I'm sure I'm missing something. I look forward to when I can just fix him a sandwich with a few sides for lunch. Right now, each "course" has to come one at a time. We've tried giving him a plate of different foods, and I think the sensory overload is too much for him. If he doesn't immediately want to eat it, he wants it off his plate.

Like I said, toddlers are weird like that.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

I'm 30 going on 50, apparently.

Yesterday, G and I went to the zoo. It was glorious. G walked all over the place, pointing out every sign we passed, stopping to observe people, and generally chatting up a storm. He didn't pay much attention to the animals except the meerkats, like usual, but I'm sure that'll come with age.

We were having a grand ol' time until the zoo started to close, therefore making us have to head back to the car. G pitched the biggest fit when we passed the indoor area and he wanted to go in... again.

"Um, G," says I, "the zoo is closing. We can't go in there."

He points and babbles "dededede."

"Come on, this way." I motion in the other direction. "We have to go home."

G crosses his arms and looks petulant.

I make my voice sterner. "G, Mama said no. We have to go home. Come on."

My little almost 20 month old sits down on the path, firmly planting his butt on the ground. I'm just glad he's not mad enough yet to throw himself backward onto the stones while he's at it.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. It would all be very cute if I wasn't tired and thirsty and ready to go home. "What is this? Occupy Zoo? Staging a sit-in isn't a valid form of toddler protest." Oh, I crack myself up. I walk over, haul him up by the armpits, and settle his almost 30 pounds onto my hip.

He proceeds to cry for the next minute or so until we get back to the meerkats. "Say bye-bye," I tell him. He waves. All is forgotten, especially once we get back to the car and he has a sippy of water in his hands. He was as tired as I was. I had to haul his butt all the way out of the zoo, and the pains in my uterus are telling me I overdid it.

A few hours later, after I sit on the couch for a bit, I go to stand and I'm rather shocked by the pain in my back and thighs. Oops. Right. I'm pregnant. No more carrying a toddler on my hip for long distances. Next time, mama, bring the stroller.
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