Author: Doser3

Pregnancy and Its “Beauty”

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

Pregnancy is a crazy thing. I used to think it was beautiful and I suppose it can be depending on the day. For me, it’s elicited some things that I’m a little embarrassed about, to say the least. Obviously, not so embarrassed that I won’t share with everyone on my blog.

My first pregnancy was basically a piece of cake. I was tired a lot, but other than that things were pretty smooth. I was still working at that point as well, so all I really had to do was go sit at a desk for 8 or 9 hours a day. Not a lot of strenuous work. I actually felt beautiful during that pregnancy. Perhaps it was the fact that the majority of my pregnancy was during the summer and I was able to wear some of the cutest dresses (mostly recycled maxi dresses I was wearing pre-pregnancy). This time around, I’m having to scrounge for clothing and since I’m tall, finding pants with at least a 36 inch inseam is a bit difficult and costly. So, needless to say, I’m not feeling as hip and pretty as the last time around.

There was only one instance that was made me feel less than regal and less than feminine while I was pregnant with Davey. It was on a Thursday morning, about 7:45, and I stood in the lobby of my office, with a gaggle of other co-workers waiting patiently for an elevator to arrive. Once we were all on the elevator and it was moving, I had this uncomfortable sensation that I needed to pass gas. Normally, I would just hold it and trust me I tried, but unfortunately it snuck out. I was at the back of the elevator, as my floor was the very top. I noticed the smell slowly creep out from my back corner like a rolling poisonous fog. It began to consume individual co-workers and I watched as those who were near comatose (because they hadn’t had coffee and were still technically asleep) immediately jolt awake. Some turned around looking to see where the smell was coming from, while turning up their noses. I followed suit with them in the hopes that they didn’t know it was me. As soon as the elevator opened (not on my floor by the way), they all fell out like a bag of dominoes leaving me alone. They had to know it was me. How embarrassing.

Flash forward two and a half years and I have yet another less than ladylike moment. The only reprieve I have from this was the fact that it happened in the privacy of my own home.

Last week, I took a nap while my son was napping (might as well get in some sleep now, because it’s going to be a while before it happens again). When I awoke, Henry was treating my bladder as if it were punching bag, so I immediately took off to the bathroom. I emptied my bladder, quickly feeling like I lost 20 pounds, before walking back into the kitchen to grab myself a glass of water. Now here’s where the craziness commences. While pouring myself a glass of water at the sink, I start to feel something warm running down my leggings. What was this? I didn’t have a sensation of needing to pee. Henry wasn’t even moving around. Was this my water breaking? I look down to see just a couple of drops of water drip onto the floor from my legs.

Immediately I take off to the bathroom. I sit down on the toilet and try to pee again, but nothing! I call the doctor, go into in depth detail about what had just occurred. I answered a few questions that I found to be a bit embarrassing and then listened as the doctor told me I basically just peed on myself. Are you kidding me? I’m 38 years old, not 98! I’ve never had a bladder issue. The last time I peed on myself was when I was potting training 36 years ago.

I was mortified. I even told the doctor that. He proceeded to gracefully chuckle and tell me it’s a common occurrence and at least it didn’t happen while I was in public. True! It could have been worse, but the fact that pregnancy (particularly this one) is causing me to loose control of my bodily functions is making me feel less than beautiful.

Just this morning, after immediately peeing, I stayed seated on the toilet for a couple of seconds. There was no rush, so why not wait to see if anymore trickled out? When I figured I was in the clear, I walked out of the toilet. My son was standing at the vanity brushing his teeth. He turns around to face me right at the time I feel a sneeze coming on. When said sneeze hit, so did my newfound propensity to need to pee. In front of my son, whom I’m trying to potty train, I peed on myself. My son takes the toothbrush from his mouth while looking down at the pee on the floor and says to me, “oh no, Mama. Big boys pee pee in the potty.” He then points at the toilet before turning around to continue to brush his teeth.

And so goes the final few weeks of my pregnancy. I’m really looking forward to this one being over.

Justifiable Self Pity or Pregnancy Hormones? You Decide.

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

My oh my! I just looked at the date of my last post and it’s been over a month! What was I thinking letting this blog go for so long without an update or post about the waning few weeks of pregnancy? Well, what I was thinking was absolutely nothing! I honestly think I’ve started spending the latter few weeks of my pregnancy spinning into a downward spiral of negative emotions.

From the start, this pregnancy has been the complete opposite of my first. That’s nothing unusual. No two things in life are the same. I’ve experienced morning sickness that seemed to completely steer clear of me while pregnant with Davey. I didn’t have the emotional breakdowns I’ve experienced while carrying Henry (speaking of, what if there was a mistake and Henry isn’t a Henry???). On the plus side, I haven’t gained as much weight as I did with Davey. Of course, I’m attributing that to the fact that I’ve been a lot more health conscious this time around. As a matter fact, when I took my glucose test with Henry, I had 25 points to play around with, while I almost failed with Davey!

But one thing I’ve dealt with that was completely obsolete to me with Davey is contractions. Two weeks ago, I drove myself to the doctor with lower abdominal cramps and lower back pain. I had just dropped Davey off at school and had errands to run. I couldn’t exactly stand straight, but I told myself to power through! This was the only time I could run errands…when Davey was in school. After running my errands, I called the doctor and while I was on hold (don’t worry I have blue tooth in my car) I began driving in the direction of my doctor’s office.

My first thought was that I had kidney stones! I’ve had these before, albeit 12 years ago, but the feeling is something you don’t really forget. I had a few tears trickle down my cheek as I prayed to God to not let me have kidney stones on top of this pregnancy. Surely He wouldn’t do that to me, right? Fortunately, it wasn’t kidney stones, but instead contractions! What was that? Contractions? Surely you gest, I told the doctor. No, she informed me, she was not joking. Huh! So that’s what a contraction feels like? Yeah, I’m pretty certain I don’t like them.

I was informed that I needed to be off my feet. So, what does that mean to my 2 year old? That the poor child is now forced to succumb to the same level of cabin fever that I was soon to develop. Off of my feet? I’m not an “off my feet” type of person. There’s too much to do around the house and outside of the house. This was not and is not boding well for my sanity.

I’ve cried about missing my beloved Clemson Tigers play on a Thursday night, when my husband and I were to have an adult night and Davey was to stay with my parents. I’ve cried about the fact that I’m now forced to rely on my husband to pick up the slack around the house (not that he’s not capable, but it’s really not fair). I can’t even go to the gym anymore and get on the bike. Technically, I could have used all of this spare time to write my blog, but I’ve felt indifferent to the whole thing.

I’ve managed to allow myself to slip into an emotional state that almost feels like depression, but it’s more like self pity. So, what’s happened today you ask? What’s happened to encourage me to write a blog now? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because Thanksgiving is just around the corner and in spite of my self pity, I do have a lot to be thankful for. Maybe it’s because my husband decided to go into work late today so that he could take Davey to school and I could just stay home. Maybe it’s because I got a good night’s sleep. Maybe it’s because I feel like I can breathe again (since my husband spent the weekend cleaning our house). Whatever the reason, I feel like I’m back. I have two and a half weeks (maybe less) until my scheduled C-section. I can see that light at the end of the tunnel.

I worry that I may suffer from post partum depression after Henry arrives. I worry about this just because of my recent emotional state. I’ve felt like I’ve been suffering out of body experiences, but for the first time in months, today I feel like I can have it under control. Today it feels like a good day!

Stress-O-Ween

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

I don’t recall Halloween ever being stressful for me. Obviously, as a child I found it fun and even as an adult, I never had much problem finding or coming up with a costume. So why is it that since I’ve become a mother, I’ve found Halloween to be so loathsome?

I had grand aspirations about making Davey a Halloween costume this year. I thought, “hey, I’m a stay a home mom, I have some time, I love to pin on Pinterest, and I’m perfectly capable of doing something creative.” Boy, was I ever wrong! The last two years have been a piece of cake, but this year Halloween has become downright painful. And why is that? Could it be because I’m putting too much stress on myself? Let’s be serious. Davey doesn’t really understand the concept yet. Heck, he’s not even aware of what day it is, much less that the tradition is to dress up. So, what am I so stressed about?

I’ll tell you. I want my son to not just wear some mass produced costume. Yeah, yeah, I know a lot of moms and dads out there find it a lot easier to just buy a costume, even if their child will look like Billy Joe down the street. I know, it’s ridiculous for me to spend my energy fretting about something that really is so trivial. And I’m perfectly aware that Davey could care less. So, I guess it’s more about me.

Here’s my issue…I’m a stay at home mom. I should be able to make a costume for my son. I should be able to come up with creative ways to make him unique and I really thought I had this year. I really thought that this year would be different, but now I’m down to the wire and I can’t help but shake my head and say, “why oh why, Amy, must you put so much on yourself?”

And here’s my other issue, completely irrelevant to the costume…what about little goody bags for his friends at school? Should I do this? Is it acceptable? I know some moms out there are shaking their heads at this, telling me to relax, to not take on so much, but I desperately want to be THAT mom who does take on the extra tasks. I just can’t seem to find a way for it to NOT stress me out. Just a side note, even if I go the store bought way with a costume and don’t do little bags for the kids at school, I’m still stressed out. It’s just a part of my nature.

So, I guess there’s no hope for me, and I guess since NO ONE seems to sell plain hooded yellow sweatshirts these days, I’ll have to go to Plan B on the costume. At least I do have a contingency plan in place. Let’s just hope I can pull it off!

Happy Stress-O-Ween, Everyone!

Back in the Summer of 2010

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

Oh, those were the days. My husband and I were career people, working hard, making money, spending money, treating ourselves, and not having much of a worry. We could go out to dinner without fail. We could stay out past 10 o’clock. We could eat at some of the nicest restaurants and enjoy a cocktail beforehand. We could travel, take cruises, mini-vacations to the beach. We could rent boats for the day on Lake Jocassee and just relax. Yes, indeed, those were the days, but the days of what?

Last night, I found myself reminiscing about the days “pre-babies.” I couldn’t help myself, especially considering the car I was driving…an Infiniti G37x, 2013 model no less. Nice leather interior, beautiful, bright red exterior. This car is AWD with a 3.7 liter, 24 valve v-6 engine. It has 328 hp at 7000 rpm and an electronically controlled 7-speed automatic with ADS. It’s a dream to drive and felt much like driving my 2009 Mercedes C300 I owned before Davey. Thanks to my husband’s job and all of his travel, he’s able to get rental cars on a weekly basis. Some of the time I’m not too impressed, but last night as he pulled into my parent’s driveway and I saw this beauty, I had to toss him the keys to my 2011 Chevy Equinox and take control of the Infiniti. That’s when the reminiscing began.

Quite a few years ago, I wrote a blog entitled “From Maggie to Eloise, with much Trepidation”. Maggie was my Mercedes. I loved her, everything about her, and it was a HUGE sacrifice for me to trade her in for a more economical, family type car when I was pregnant. I shed a few tears over losing Maggie, but in the end I also knew I would be gaining something more precious…my son and time with him. Last night, I felt like I was given a little extra gold star for my sacrifices by having the opportunity to drive something more than a “mom” car.

As I started the engine and opened the sunroof, I found myself back in the days of that summer…2010. I backed out of the driveway, put the car in drive and had a rush of excitement as I slowly put my foot on the gas pedal and was pummeled back into my seat with the sheer power. I turned on the radio and Bryan Adams’ “Summer of ’69” came on. I cranked it up, made a left onto the road and was immediately transported back in time.

It’s amazing what a car and a song can do for a memory. Maybe I put too much stock in my cars. Maybe I’m pathetic for wanting to reminisce about the days PD (pre-Davey). It’s only a car. I’m well aware of this and I wouldn’t trade a second of the last 25 months for a car, but for those 30 minutes on the drive home last night, it certainly was nice to pretend that I was once again “footloose and fancy free”.

Have a Little Faith

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

Such a simple, simple phrase. How many of us hear this every day? How many of us repeat this to ourselves every day? Our personal mantra. Well, for the next eight weeks, I’ll be saying this to myself over and over.

Last night I did something that in theory seemed like a good idea. At the point I conceived the idea (nearly three weeks ago), it seemed like a good idea. I had grand visions in my head, selfless AND selfish acts. I was (and still am) going to do what is best, or what I feel is best for everyone except me, so I booked a flight for my husband and two year old son to fly to Rochester, NY WITHOUT me.

Henry’s actual due date is December 20th, but since I am having a scheduled C-section, the actual date of birth will be Friday, December 13th (dun, dun, dun). That being said, it almost seemed like Davey’s grandparents and aunt would not be able to see him this year for Christmas. Normally, we fly up the first week of December since my husband is a shareholder with his company, which is headquartered out of Rochester.

The first Friday of December is his annual shareholder’s meeting and company Christmas party, so we try to make a week of it in Rochester since Davey was born so that my husband’s side of the family will get some time during the holidays with Davey. This year, thanks to Henry’s impending birth, we didn’t think that was possible. However, I thought long and hard about it and felt that my husband and son should still try to fly up at least for a few days. That means I will have four days all to myself.

It started out as a selfless act, but then evolved into something more. What a break! Four days! How sweet, wonderful, and enticing. Immediately, I decided I would coerce my husband into doing this. It was all such a fabulous plan until I booked their tickets last night.

What was I thinking? Four days ALONE???? I haven’t had even ONE day alone in over two years. My body and mind has adjusted to this. How will I survive? My sister-in-law tells me to schedule a day at the spa. Great idea, the only problem is that requires money and since I’m a stay at home mom, we’re not exactly rolling in any sort of extra cash.

I could read some books! That would be awesome, considering the only books I get to read these days are “Three Billy Goats Gruff” and “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day”. I could get caught up on some of my writing! That sounds great as well especially since I don’t seem to have time for too much of that anymore between potty training, the croup, and my other “volunteer” activities I do to keep my resume still active for the day I decide to go back to work.

Hey, I could sleep in! Might as well try to bank some hours seeing as how a week later we’ll be adding a newborn into the fold. Too bad you can’t really bank sleep hours.

I could watch old movies or adult television, anything other than Disney movies. There’s so much I could really do with my four days of being baby and husband free. No cooking dinners, no laundry to do, nothing! It’s all great, but it’s still not easing my mind or my incessant need to worry. So, what’s eclipsing all of these fabulous opportunities I’ll have at my disposable? My narcissitic personality and need to be in control.

I awoke this morning and told my husband I could never forgive him if he lost our son at the airport while they were sitting through a lay over! Can you believe I said that? The only thoughts swirling through my head are the two days of travel for my boys. How will my husband handle flying solo with Davey? He’s NEVER done it. Heck, I’ve never done it either, but for some reason I have a lot of faith that I can handle it. I’ll say out loud that I have the faith in my husband. He would NEVER let something happen to Davey. He would sacrifice himself before he let something happen, but what if the unthinkable still happens.

Davey’s fast, insanely fast! What if he breaks free of my husband’s grasp and my husband chases him only to catch him and then tweak his lower back when trying to pick Davey up? What then? How will he survive? What if Davey walks into one of the many shops and starts pulling items off the shelves and onto the floor when my husband isn’t watching? What if he tries to grab something in one of the shops and runs without paying? Will security and police be called? Will my child play the game of “this isn’t my daddy?” with the police? What if he won’t sleep on the plane and starts kicking the seat in front of him and the person becomes angry, which then angers my husband and they get into a shouting match and Davey and my husband are forced to leave the plane? All of these “what if” scenarios are killing me and I’m still eight weeks away from the actual travel. Can you imagine how I’ll be when I drop them off at the airport?

It’s not that I’m a super mom, but I just know it’s easier to have the “tag team” effect when travelling with a toddler. It’s not that I don’t have faith in my husband. It’s not that I could necessarily PREVENT any of these things from happening should I be travelling with them. It’s just that with me the whole out of sight, out of mind phrase doesn’t work. I’ll be a nervous wreck. I’m already a nervous wreck. Geez!

My husband says to me this morning, “I’m insulted and I’m hurt that you think I would let something happen to our son.” I don’t think he would LET it happen, but sometimes it’s really hard with Davey. Until then and even on those days, I’ll just start working on faith, having a little more of it, and saying my prayers for all of us.

As a side note, my husband is thinking of getting a leash for Davey just for those days of travel. I’m totally against this, but if it will help him keep track of Davey, then I’ll concede. As long as my husband never puts the leash on Davey while around me.

Mommy Has Poopy Hair

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - General1 Comment

It’s glamorous being a mom, regardless as to whether you’re a stay-at-home mom or one who is working outside the home. Things change a lot. For example, before I became a mom I would have NEVER considered walking out of my house without make up on and my hair styled. These days? I really don’t care, or perhaps I’m just too tired, or maybe just maybe my child has beaten me down.

I know you all love hearing about my adventures in potty training Davey. It’s been an on and off affair, but I’ve stuck with it for THREE DAYS this time. I’m determined. I’m going to get this down and Davey will be potty trained. I’ve picked up on his little cues. For example, he likes to hide and squat when he needs to poop. And when he needs to pee? Well, he starts holding his little “man part” as if he’s trying to pinch it off. I’ve got this! I know when he needs to potty and when he’s actually pottying.

I’ve bought stickers as rewards, given him super awesome underwear (Cars themed, his favorite), and I’ve even created a song to help him go potty. Thankfully for all of you, you don’t have to listen to my caterwauling as I sing to Davey. It remains to be seen if he really enjoys my singing or if he just tries to potty in order to get me to shut up. I don’t care which one it is, as long as he potties.

Lately, he’s hit a defiant state with me and not just on the potty training issue, but with everything. Naturally, it makes the potty training a lot more difficult, but I gotta tell you…Wanna know where I find solace and the encouragement for patience (a virtue I never thought I would learn)? It’s not on the other mommy blogs or from other moms who’ve been in my shoes. It’s from the Bible. So, every morning I say a little prayer for strength, patience and sanity and I begin my trek down Potty Training Avenue.

This morning, I read my Bible and said my prayer. The Lord doesn’t always answer in the ways we hope, but He does answer. Thankfully for me, He answered because after this morning’s fiasco I was about to pull the “Old Amy” response of saying a word or two that wasn’t exactly appropriate for my son to hear.

Davey is sitting at the kitchen table, alongside me, eating his breakfast and listening to today’s Bible lesson (he loves to be read to). After breakfast, I get him down from the chair only to immediately notice the all too knowing sign of a poop. As a side note, why does a child’s poop smell worse than an adult’s? So, I ask, “Davey, did you poop your pants?” I get, “Oh no, Mama.” I ask, “Davey are you telling mommy the truth or are you fibbing?” He replies, “I fib.”

I take him to the bathroom because my intent is to take his poopy underwear and dump the poop into the potty and explain (AGAIN) that this is where poop belongs. What I wasn’t exactly expecting was the fact that it wasn’t just your typical poop. It had eased up his back and saturated his underwear and pants. Sigh! I said a quick prayer. This is the reason I use disposable diapers instead of cloth. I have absolutely NO DESIRE to scrub poop. I just want to trash/flush it and be done!

Gently I take off his shirt, careful to make sure that no poop gets in his hair, a feat which I found to be successful. Next, I took a little toilet paper and wiped off his back before beginning to navigate his pants and underwear. I don’t know where I went wrong. Perhaps it was underestimating the movements of my child because as I started sliding down his pants and then his underwear, Davey decides he wants to immediately step out of the poop infested arena. So, he jerks up his left foot, gets his heel caught in the poop of the underwear, and then shoves down his foot thereby squishing poop everywhere. I try to steady him and bite my tongue, saying yet again another prayer to God, as this thought starts swirling through my head: I gave up a paying job for this crap (literally and figuratively)? At least when I was in the corporate world and people treated me like poop, or even thought about rubbing my face in it (which I’m sure quite a few of my customers desired), I was paid. I don’t get paid squat for this.

So, I stood Davey back up as he reached down to wipe the poop from his foot. “Davey, no!” I screamed, but too late. He then wiped the poop on his leg, started crying and with his hand smothered in poop says, “Mama, clean pleeeeaaassseee,” all the while wrapping his arms around my neck and then stroking my hair with said poop hand. Not only is my child now covered in poop, but it’s also in my hair. Again, Sigh! And thank you, Lord, for allowing me to take it in stride.

I’m still determined on this potty training thing. If anything it’s becoming a battle of the wills and I always win. Trust me, I will kill myself, but I always win. I will succeed. In the meantime, I am forced to endure a song entitled, “Mommy has poopy hair and Dixie has a pee pee mouth”. It was adorable the first thousand times I heard it today. Now? I’m ready to gauge out my eardrums. And as for the really cool Cars underwear? It was thrown in the trash. Davey has 40 pairs, being short one doesn’t bother me especially if I don’t have to clean the poop.

That’s all for today in Potty Training Land. Stay tuned for more shenanigans to come…COUNT ON ‘EM.

Fire! Fire!

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

Do you know what to do when you hear those words? How many of you can recall what you were taught in elementary school should you find yourself on fire? And how many of you have a fire safe home? Well, not everything is 100% fire safe, but there are steps you can take. In light of the fact that this week, October 6th-12th, is National Fire Prevention Week I thought I would take a moment to go over and maybe even remind some of you parents out there what you should be teaching your children.

The NFPA (National Fire Protection Association) suggests you follow these 6 basic tips to ensure that you and your family are safe.

1. Be prepared with necessary tools. Do you have smoke and carbon monoxide detectors? If not, then invest in some. If you do, are you testing them at least once a month? I have to admit that I’m not completely following the “testing” protocol, so it’s nice to have a reminder. A great way to do that is to make a day each month as a special day for testing the detectors. Set it up as a reminder on your white board, bulletin board, refrigerator or whatever you may have. Involve your children in the testing and use the opportunity to go over the importance of fire safety. What a great learning experience and you don’t want to waste those opportunities. Also, batteries should be replaced at least twice a year. A good day for that is at the start and end of Daylight Savings Time.

2. Make an evacuation plan. We don’t have one of these right now. It’s something we need to work on in the future especially since Davey is now at the age to start understanding the importance and repercussions. The NFPA suggests you talk to your child about various exit points within his or her room as well as the house. Draw an evacuation route or build one with LEGOS or blocks, again engage your child. Teach him or her.

3. Mark a meeting point. Every evacuation needs a meeting point, whether that be your neighbor’s yard, your mailbox, or the lamppost at the corner.

4. Run the drill. Now that you’ve gotten tools, the evacuation route, and meeting point solidified, you need to run through the process to make sure there is complete understanding from all members of your family. The NFPA suggests acting out these drills at least twice a year. Role playing can be fun for children. As they get older and become teenagers, it may not be quite so fun, but what’s the point in having the process if you don’t know how to enact it in a true emergency?

5. Lead the way. Children learn by example. Why not set the standard now that you take fire safety seriously? Constantly practice safe fire measures daily. Don’t leave candles unattended. Never leave pots or pans or cooking utensils on the stove unattended or even within the reach of young hands. Store all fire starting tools safely away and make sure that all appliances are in working order.

6. Finally, you can download a fire safety check list at http://sparky.org/downloads/SparkyChecklist.pdf . Print this off and post it. Use it as an opportunity to do a walk through with your family.

You can find out more about Fire Protection Safety at NFPA.org. You can also check with your local community calendars to see about events ongoing this week to help teach your children more about fire safety. Don’t let something like this slide. Your family is much too important.

And oh by the way, here’s a picture taken of my little fire chief last year.

Fire Chief Davey

The Story of Birth

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - General1 Comment

This year, much like last year, when Davey awoke on his birthday, my husband and I put him into our bed. This year his 2nd birthday fell on Saturday, so we cuddled up in bed and relaxed. We asked him questions like, “Who has a birthday today?” and “How old are you?” He answered both with excitement and energy, although I’m really not sure if he understood what the day was.

And this year, much like last year, I started with a tradition I hope to keep, one that Davey seems to enjoy hearing (at least he sat quietly, listened, and even threw in his own two cents) and that is the story of his birth. I’d like to share that with all of you.

Davey’s scheduled due date was September 25th, a Sunday. I’d been written out of work on the previous Thursday due to discomfort, so at that point it was just a waiting game. Sunday rolled around, and no Davey. Monday rolled around, and no Davey. Same story with Tuesday. Davey was pretty adamant about keeping put. I wasn’t dilated, my cervix was closed tight, and this kid was just eager to keep me uncomfortable.

Wednesday morning rolled around and I had a scheduled 8:30 doctor’s appointment. We were going to find out what we needed to do in regards to inducing labor, basically how long past my due date the doctor was going to let me go and what we needed to do to be prepared for said induction. I was pretty bummed that morning because I wasn’t dilated and I thought I was going to get the same old bad news of “you’re not there yet.” Regardless, I told my husband to bring the luggage I’d packed. It didn’t hurt to be prepared.

We followed our normal doctor’s schedule of an early morning appointment, followed by coffee and bagels at Starbucks. At least that was to be our normal routine. When I arrived at the doctor, I was told that my cervix was still closed and that I wasn’t dilated. He did; however, want to get an ultrasound to see how big Davey was. My ultrasound showed Davey was breached and that I had very little amniotic fluid left so they did not want me to have a vaginal birth. It was determined that I would need an emergency C-section, so Davey was to be born that day.

Of course, I couldn’t eat anything since I was to have major surgery, which didn’t go over too well for me. So, we called our parents, stopped by my husband’s office so that he could reschedule a last minute meeting, and headed to the hospital.

I wasn’t nervous, nor was I anxious. I think I was elated. I couldn’t believe the day had finally arrived. I wasn’t scared, but I was excited, although I didn’t have the typical excitement butterflies. I was hooked up to a fetal monitor for a couple of hours in a room that would not be my permanent location. Had my husband and I known this, then perhaps we wouldn’t have brought EVERYTHING into the hospital with us at that time. It was quite entertaining to see him and my dad (my mother was away on business and couldn’t make it back) lug around all the bags and pillows and other “necessities” we’d brought.

The next room prepped me before surgery. My husband was given blue scrubs (exciting for him) and I went through a prepping process for surgery that made me feel like I was to become the female version of Captain America. After a few minutes, and completely giving up my overwhelming sense to have some level of modesty, the doctor began performing the surgery.

I didn’t feel anything, of course, except for the occasional tug and pull. At one point, I asked the nurse when exactly the doctor was going to cut into me and at that point I heard this ear piercing wail. Davey had made his appearance into the world at 4:06 pm.

Words cannot begin to describe the feelings I had. It was almost surreal seeing my baby, MY baby! I couldn’t believe I’d done this. Not only had I conquered my fears of being pregnant, but I’d managed to carry a baby to full term, and deliver one as well and right in front of me was this screaming mass that I thought was the greatest thing in this world. At that moment, nothing else existed in the world. At that moment, my world was complete. At that moment, I cried more tears of happiness than I ever thought possible.

He wasn’t immediately placed into my arms since the doctor had to close me back up again. My husband was able to bring Davey to me and I cradled his head with one hand and kissed my baby. What a wonderful gift I’d been given. A few minutes later, I was back to the small “staging” room. I looked at my dad who was holding his grandson, his first grandchild and a lump formed in my throat. Within a few minutes, Davey was in my arms and I was being wheeled into what would be my home away from home for the next three days.

I was a mother! I couldn’t believe it! Some mornings, I awake and still can’t believe I’m a mother, especially on the days of Davey’s birthday. What a wonderful birth it was, what a wonderful day and every day since.

Kissing my baby for the first time.
Kissing my baby for the first time.
Our new family.
Our new family.
me and my dad.
me and my dad.
David Brian Doser
David Brian Doser

Dixie Has a Pee Pee Mouth

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

I’ve blogged frequently about my attempts to potty train Davey. I thought he was ready back around Easter. If you’ll remember correctly, that’s when he pulled his pants down at my parent’s house and pooped on their hardwood floors.

I thought he was ready at the start of the summer when he would pull his pants down and sit on the potty, but alas nothing happened. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had the occasional “Mission Accomplished” moment, but those have been fleeting and nothing more than a coincidence.

Well, as the days keep ticking by and we get closer and closer to the arrival of Henry, I’m finding myself under new pressure to get Davey potty trained ASAP! You wonder why. Well, I’ve been told that I don’t want to have 2 babies in diapers (although I know quite a few moms who have 2 babies this way). I’ve also been told that I won’t have the time to devote to potty training Davey once Henry gets here. I’ll have to wait a few months to get Henry on his routine before I try to get Davey on a routine. And I’ve been told that Davey may not take well to being potty trained when Henry gets here. In other words, I should have his routine set before baby Henry’s arrival.

Most recently, I attempted a new approach with potty training Davey. I went the “cold turkey” way which is putting him in underwear, not training pants. That morning he went through 3 pairs of underwear. The first set was an accident. He peed in his underwear, didn’t like the feeling, and immediately sat down on the potty. Of course, it was too late at that moment, but he understood the point. Shortly there after, he ran up to me, holding his crotch and crossing his legs while telling me had to potty! Success! He was holding it.

I took him to his potty, helped him pull down his underwear and just barely made it with putting him on the potty before he started peeing! How exciting! How awesome! What a big boy I had! All of this I shared with him happily as he continued to pee in the potty.

During my excitement I had become oblivious to the fact that Dixie, our dog, was standing just behind me. Perhaps I should have noticed that sooner and put her in another room because faster than I can blink my eyes, my son stood up and continued to pee while stating, “I pee like Dada.” And before I could stop him, Dixie was standing in front of him licking up his pee!

At first my voice was broken! I was speechless. Then I began to yell at Dixie, “what kind of person drinks another person’s pee?!?!?!” But of course she’s not a person, she’s a dog and it’s not quite so unusual for them. So, as I’m screaming at Dixie, tears start falling down my face (not sure if it was frustration, anger, shock, or just exhaustion since I hadn’t slept any and was fighting my allergies). Davey looks at me and starts crying as well and says to me, “no more potty, Mama.”

And that was the end of that potty training. Have I tried it since then? Yep. Have I had any progress? Nope. I think my yelling and crying perhaps startled him, traumatizing him from moving forward with potty training. He does; however, like to inform me on a regular basis that Dixie has a pee pee mouth. Right he is.

This week, my in-laws are visiting for Davey’s 2nd birthday. My husband’s grandmother, Davey’s great grandmother, also made the trip, and she’s taking it upon herself to try her hand at potty training Davey. I’m relieved. It would be nice to have someone else teach him and for me to just take over. We’ll see what becomes of it.

All You Have to Do is Dream

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

I can’t recall much about any dreams I had when I was a child. I do have little images that flash through my mind, almost like little flutters. For example, I can recall how I wrote my first book at the age of six and at that point I knew I wanted to be a writer. My book was only about 6 pages long and told the story of a little brown bear who was trying to find his hat so he could go outside to play. It even came complete with pictures I drew myself.

And then there were the years when I was in elementary school and I knew that I was going to be a television news reporter. I would take my toy box, which could also serve as a bench thanks to the back and sides that provided a place to rest. I would pull the wooden beauty out from the wall and spin it around, then I would I post a map of the world on the wall behind me. I sat on my knees as I took The Weekly Reader, which was nothing more than a four page little paper flyer created specifically for elementary aged children in order to keep them informed of the events of the world. I would take my fake red glasses, put on one of my mother’s scarves, and throw my hair up into a bun and introduce myself to my audience before going into the news events of the day. I just knew I would be a news reporter one day. I just knew it, but it didn’t happen.

These days, I find myself wondering about my son and his dreams. He seems to have a lot of them and all of them seem to surround athletics or something that’s going to give him an adrenaline rush. Every football Saturday, he informs me that he’s going to play football one day for his mommy’s beloved Clemson Tigers. What an awesome dream, but is that mine or his? I’m quick to at least instill in him that if he’s going to do that then he needs to be a defensive lineman, they’re least likely to receive concussions and more likely to cause them.

Then there is the desire to fly planes one day. That dream always resurrects itself when we go to the Aviation Park or the Runway Café (which by the way, if you haven’t been you MUST go. Davey and I LOVE their homemade pimento cheese), so basically that dream is an every week thing. Last week, Davey; however, added a completely new dream into his book. He’s decided he wants to be a “racing car driver”. As you can see, I already have the feeling my son is going to be an adrenaline junkie.

My uncle and my cousin race cars at Greenville Pickens Speedway, it’s a short track race that is affiliated with NASCAR. I’ve gone to the track for as long as I can remember, but haven’t been since my younger brother died about six years ago. My parent’s house is approximately 3-5 miles from the track and I have fond memories of the sound of race cars lulling me to sleep on summer nights. I actually used to sit by my open window as a child and listen to the cars.

Last week, Davey and I made a stop by my aunt and uncle’s house to have something welded for my husband. After my uncle took care of the initial task, we went out to his garage where he had both his race car and my cousin’s, both on jacks, both without wheels, and both with the hoods up. Davey’s eyes lit up. He reminded me of the kids from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

He walked into the garage slowly, first going to one car and gently running his hand along the body of the car. He stood quiet for a moment and then almost as if speaking to the dead or the sacred he said in an awe inspiring whisper, “racing car”.

Inspecting the underbelly
Inspecting the underbelly

He walked over to the other car, squatting down briefly as if to inspect the underbelly of the beast. He rested his hands on his knees as he pointed out little things and said, “What that?” My uncle came over and explained in adult terms (which I love) what each part was. Davey listened intently as they both walked around the cars. Then without the slightest hint of shyness about him, Davey stood up and asked my uncle, “I help fix?”

Fixing the car.
Fixing the car.

My uncle gave him a couple of wrenches and Davey got busy “fixing” the race car. After his task at hand was complete, Davey then turned to my uncle and said, “I drive racing car.” I suppose since he’d “fixed” the thing, he felt he was entitled to “drive” it. My uncle picked him up and put him in the car, then attached the steering wheel. Davey sat in the big bucket seat attempting to steer the wheel and change gears all while making the sound of a racing car. After a few minutes, Davey was all done.

His "reward" for fixing the car. The chance to drive it.
His “reward” for fixing the car. The chance to drive it.

That afternoon, on our drive home my son informed me, “Mama, I not fly plane, I drive racing car one day.” Guess we’ll find out this week what his latest dream will be. I can’t wait to hear it or any of the others that will surely follow in the future. Dreams are wonderful gifts to have.