Becky – Page 89 – Embracing the Insanity

Remembering Micah’s Story: Released (Still on Bedrest)

Posted on May 29, 2009October 10, 2009 by Becky

I had mixed feelings about leaving. I felt like I would be coming right back–I felt like labor and delivery was a ticking time bomb, that might go off just because I simply walked out of the hospital. There was a certain measure of safety in being on the Mom Unit: if my water broke or the baby just decided to come, Daniel wouldn’t have to drive me 45 minutes through the city to the hospital. I was right there, with operating rooms and a Level III NICU down the hall.

But on the other hand, I missed Daniel and Mara sooo much. And it was good to be home. To actually rest on my own couch, in my own bed.

When we pulled up to the house, it was heart-wrenching to see my sick little girl, who (that day) was being watched by our friends Tara and Amy from church. Mara didn’t really know Tara or Amy. The combination of having strangers watching her while she was sooo sick (she still had a high fever due to the roseola) and not having seen her mother for four days was more than little 16-month-old Mara could handle.

Tara told me she had sobbed hysterically for the entire two hours they were there. In all her life, I don’t think Mara ever sobbed hysterically for two hours about anything! Not even as a newborn. I felt bad for Tara and Amy.–It is hard enough to have your own child crying for two hours, but it’s almost unbearable when it’s someone else’s child! And my heart was broken for my baby girl . . .

When they left, Daniel and I just sat in the living room downstairs (I was still on “bedrest” so I couldn’t do much else). My sick baby girl sat on the couch next to me. She wasn’t sobbing any more. She just sat sucking her thumb and deeply heaving with each breath, as you do after a long hard cry.

Finally, she looked up at me, and between heaving breaths, she ever-so-sweetly said, “Dadda . . . Momma . . .Baby,” and then she put her thumb back in her mouth, and leaned her sweaty, feverish head against my arm.

I will never ever forget that moment as long as I live. We were all together again: “Dadda . . . Momma . . .Baby . . .” And my little Mara knew that’s how it was supposed to be.

I wished like crazy that I could promise her that I would never ever ever leave her like that again–but in my heart, I knew that the chances were very good that I would be back in the hospital, and if I went back again, the chances were good we would also have a baby in the NICU for several weeks. . .

So in a way it was harder to come home, because I saw how hard it was for Mara. It really broke my heart.

We had 4-1/2 days together–Mara and me at home on bedrest, until my next appointment. We worked out for Daniel’s sister to help 3 – 4 days each week. This way Mara would have someone that she knew with her, at least half the time. We would try to fill in the other days asking people from church for help watching her. On Sundays she was able to go to church with Daniel’s family (since Daniel sometimes worked Sundays).

I tried really hard to be “good,” to rest, and to not go up and down the stairs more than once/twice a day.

But with my contractions continuing steadily with the procardia, I figured I would be back on bedrest in the hospital after the next appointment. Just walking to the car, through the parking garage and into the doctor’s office was enough to bring on stronger contractions!

I’m Back!

Posted on May 28, 2009October 13, 2009 by Becky

After spending a week in Florida and being out of town for Memorial Day, we are now recovering from colds (Daniel and Mara), ear infections (Micah), and a sinus infection (me). But on the bright side, we are home, so I’m planning to get back into blogging on a more regular basis.

I’m hoping to post a few pictures from our Florida trip and a few Memorial Day pictures, as well as continue remembering Micah’s story and, as always, you can count on my writing some posts with quotes from Mara!

What should we pray about tonight, Mara?

Posted on May 27, 2009June 3, 2009 by Becky

Each night, before Mara goes to sleep, I lay her down on her tummy (for some reason, she always says, ‘on my back’ as I lay her on her tummy) in her crib and cover her with her favorite “pink binkit.”

Then I ask, “What should we pray about tonight, Mara?”

Here is her reply:

“That we got pink bear with hearts at the dozing wap, pray about that, Mommy.” Months ago we got “pink bear with hearts” at the clothing swap, but she wants to thank God for him almost every night. She will pause and wait for me to pray.

“And that Melissa got dress at the dozing wap. Melissa got dresses at the dozing wap.” Melissa found some dresses at the clothing swap and gave them to Mara. Another pause while I pray.

“And that we could go to Melissa’s house.” We went earlier that day. She pauses and listens.

“And that we could get Mommy med-i-nun.” We got medicine for my sinus infection today. Again, a pause.

“And Bob, Mommy, pray for neighbor Bob.”

Thank you, God, for each of Mara’s blessings, and thank you that you welcome little children and that you care about each of their cares. Not one of them is too small for you.

Mara-Speak #2

Posted on May 27, 2009May 31, 2009 by Becky

When the frozen chicken nuggets are on 1/2 price sale at Shoprite, I buy them for nights when Daniel works late and I need something quick and easy to feed Mara. She loves chicken nuggets, and she loves dipping them in ranch dressing. She calls it “chicken and ranch” and often suggests having it for dinner.

Well, tonight was one of those nights. The chicken nuggets were in the toaster oven. But Mara was impatient. “Mommeeeee, I want chicken and rannnnnch!” she whined.

I winced. “Mara, don’t whine.” How many times have I said that today?! But this time, her tone changed instantly.

She smiled her signature super-sweet smile, complete with the head-tilt to the side. “Chicken loves me!” she declared, adding, “and ranch loves me!” with the inflection of a junior higher talking about boys in her class.

“Chicken can’t love you, Mara,” I informed her. “Only people can really love you.”

“Ranches can lovvvvve,” she insisted. “And chickens can love too.”

The only plausible explanation for this statement is that she meant “I love chicken and ranch,” and somehow the communication of that concept was lost in her lack of understanding of English sentence structure. But she’s only 2. So I had a good laugh, despite her protests.

——

“Where is the Kitchen Aid, Mommy?” Mara asked, from her high chair.

“It’s right here.” I pointed to it.

“That is not the Kitchen Aid. That is the MIXer!” Mara argued.

“It is a Kitchen Aid mixer,” I tried to help her understand. “See? Right here it says ‘Kitchen Aid.'” I pointed at each letter: “K-I-T-C-H-E-N A-I-D. So sometimes we just call it the ‘Kitchen Aid.'”

She pointed to the same letters I had just showed her. “It says ‘mixer’,” she contradicted emphatically. Then, plaguarizing largely from ‘Old MacDonald Had a Farm’ and pointing at each letter just as I had done, she “spelled” it out for me: “P-I-P-I-O. Mixer. P-I-P-I-O. Mixer.”

That’s my girl, for those of you who think my two-year-old is smart.

Me? Insulted by My Two-Year-Old? Never!

Posted on May 27, 2009June 3, 2009 by Becky

Believe it or not, my “charming” two-year-old can be very insulting. Completely. Unintentionally. Very insulting. Randomly she will shout things like “Momma!–you need help!” from the other room, and I’m left wondering ‘where did she come up with that?’

Here’s an example from a couple days ago: The women in my immediate family have been blessed with prominent varicose veins. On the few occasions when I have mentioned it to girlfriends of mine, they assured me that their varicose veins were just as bad–or worse. That is, until they actually looked at mine. Then they would raise their eyebrows and quickly retract their statements: “Okay, mine aren’t that bad.”

So when I’m wearing shorts, the ever-observant Mara (who has just discovered “boo-boos” having inflicted herself with her first “serious” boo-boo over Memorial Day weekend) will bend down with great concern and ask dramatically, “Oh, what hap-pened?” She already has mastered the ‘I-might-pass-out-I-just-saw-blood’ inflection, and she is only two.

“They’re varicose veins, Mara,” I say, trying not to be disturbed that even my two-year-old sees my veins as extraordinary. Sometimes “just the facts” are all she needs, but not this time. She’s pretty concerned.

“What haaaappened?” she asks again breathily, still bending over, looking at the back of my legs. ” . . . whyyyyy?”

Flippantly, I say, “I’m getting old.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “You’re not getting old!” she says, as if to clarify. “You already are old!”

Thanks, sweetheart. First, you insult my legs. Now my age. At this rate, I will be in therapy by the time you become a teenager and start insulting me on purpose.

I have a new rule: Never feel insulted by what your two-year-old says to you, no matter how insulting it may be.