Fingers Crossed

I entered a giveaway. I usually don't enter giveaways, but these two I couldn't refuse. It's an AAC app for Moose! And Teach Me apps that I can use for all three boys!

http://www.smartappsforkids.com/2012/05/speechtree-giveaway-170-aac-app-.html#

 http://www.smartappsforkids.com/2012/05/win-all-four-teachme-apps-toddler-preschool-1st-grade-2nd-grade.html#more

I hope they win :)

The Book of Love

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing
-The Book of Love

I love my three boys in equal amounts but in separate ways.

Critter is affectionate, he abides by the rules. His version of "play" is to take care of his brothers, the bunny, the dog.

SmudgeE is all out. He dives head first into new situations. He tests boundaries. He gives kisses and fits and equal amounts.

Moose is easy going. He only cries when hungry or tired. Wet diaper, no big deal. He loves to look out the window. He giggles when someone touches his chin.

There is no way for me to list every single thing I love about each of my children. Every day they do something new that causes my heart to melt. New words, movements, understandings...the list could reach the moon.

My hope is that they are happy. That they know I love them. That they love each other.

I think my hope is already a truth.

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing
-The Book of Love

The book of my boys is long. It's not boring to me.
If I listed all that I love about my kids I couldn't lift the pages.
I've got notebooks filled with facts about first words, first steps... and even videos of first dances.

A mama's love knows no boundaries. There are no limits, nothing too big, nothing too small.

A Letter to You

It wasn't easy, but it was worth it. Thanks.

Know how much I love all that you did and still do.

With all my heart and soul, thank you.

A Letter to Mr Moose

Moose-Goose,

I love you more than jewelry/wine/cookie dough. I love every.single.thing. about you. I love your quiet smiles, your laid back personality, your chubby knees, your chapped eczema cheeks. I love your wispy hair. I love your toes- though I do question if you are making that toe-jam yourself: I give you a bath and 2 seconds later there is more stuff on your feet...

I even love that you were born at 32 weeks. The morning of your birth, I ate a Pop-Tart, which usually got you kicking even MORE than usual (I started calling you Moose when I was less than 20 weeks preggo since even then it felt like some large antlered creature had taken over my tummy :) )

Despite the Pop-Tart, you didn't move. I freaked out. I called Laura (Dr. Stickler). She didn't answer. I pulled out the doppler. I found your heartbeat. I calmed down. Laura's nurse called back- I could come in right before close. I did. I was hooked up to monitors for over 2 hours. In the last 10 minutes your heartbeat dropped. Laura sent me to East Cooper Hospital for observation since her own son had a game she had promised to attend.

The on-call doctor had the nurse hook me up to monitors for precaution. You were fine. I was about to go home. Then, your heartbeat dropped again. The doctor was concerned. The nurse was concerned. Laura was called- she was concerned. I was told to settle in, I would spend the night and go home the next day.

5 minutes later your little heartbeat line dipped off the monitor... the nurse rushed in to give me a shot of steroids. As she stabbed my tookus she told me that you would be delivered the next day, or the day after, and the butt-shot would help your lungs develop.

While the needle was still in me- and Babe, I can't stress that enough!- the on call doctor came back in. She whispered to the nurse, the nurse turned pale, and then the doctor turned to me. "Miss Noble, your baby is in high distress. His heart rate is unsteady and falling. You will have him tonight." Apparently, the serious alarms were going off at the nurses station but they had been turned down in my room.

As I pushed against my tummy just to feel your back or butt or what ever the hell that was shoving against my belly button, I listened to the on-call doctor on her cell with Laura's personal cell.

I listened as the on-call doctor yelled for a nurse to get the MUSC doctor on the phone. I listened to the on-call doctor talk to Laura on her cell, and the MUSC guy on the nurse line. I listened to her ask how long to hold me there, if you should be delivered there, when a transport could be there to take you downtown...

The on-call doctor rushed back in... "Miss Noble, if his heart rate steadies for 15 minutes, we will transport you. If not, we will deliver you and then transport him".

At 14 minutes she yelled "I'm not waiting any more! Get the transports in here!"

I was thrown in an ambulance and hauled ass to the MUSC ER. I was thrown into a tiny ass room, hooked up to monitors, and given the foulest tasting anti-nausea swill known to man. And as I tried to choke down that swill, I choked. As I was choking the delivering MUSC doctor barreled in and said "What the hell are you doing? We don't have time for you to vomit!!!!"

I was raced to the OR, and the anesthesiologist gave me a spinal- just like with Critter and Smudge- It.didn't.freaking.work. I could feel EVERYTHING! I could also hear the anesthesiologist screaming to the delivering doctor "She feels all of it! Stop cutting!!!" and the delivery doctor screaming back "My nurse can't pick up a heartbeat! I'm not stopping! Do what you can!"

Thankfully, the anesthesiologist told the delivering doctor to pull up the scalpel so that he could lower the head-side of the OR bed...within seconds I was numb. Who knew gravity worked??

As I chanted "This sucks! This SUCKS! THIS EFFING SUCKS!!!!" and the anesthesiologist chanted "You're ok. It's ok! G-DAMMIT!!!!! IT'S OKAYYYYYYYYY!" (From the tone of his voice, he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince me.)

The delivering doctor got you out. As he slung you toward the NICU team waiting on the side, I saw one little purple foot.

"Is that Moose??" I was freaked out, half delirious, and in desperate need of reassurance. "Yes" Daddy whispered so low I wasn't sure I heard him right. "My Moose?" I begged as I started to fade. "Your Moose" Daddy whispered. And then Daddy was gone and I faded.

Over an hour later I woke up in recovery alone. I waited. No one came. I waited more. Still alone. I pressed the nurse button on the bed. A nurse came. "Wheerrrrshhh moi Mooshhhhh?" I slurred. She answered "Your husband will be right in". I passed out again. When I woke up, Daddy and Aba were there. "We saw him!" they promised me. "He was alive!" I asked Daddy for the APGAR scores. "Sweetie, I don't know, the doctors were so busy they didn't tell me." (Yeah, that was a lie. Months later I would find out that the original APGAR was 1 and it was screamed across the room like a death call.)

So oddly, I remember the next exchange in such slow motion that I remember my face being numb, my arms not working, but me wriggling my toes: "Where is he? Why haven't they brought him to me? What is wrong?"

After that: Nothing. I have pictures my mom took of me being wheeled to my recovery room on a stretcher. I have pictures of you later being wheeled into my room in one of those oxygen boxes, with tubes in your nose and mouth and wires on your chest and feet. I have pictures of the NICU team that took you from the delivering doctor; all lined up against the wall of my recovery room.

I have vague memories of waddling to the NICU to see you. I have vague memories of the terror I felt when they discharged me and you were still there. I have vague memories of worrying about Critter and Smudge staying with family members while I stayed with you.

I have crystal.freaking.clear. memories of the night of the apnea episode.

But Moose, never, EVER have I ever regretted your early arrival. People ask me all the time "Don't you wish he had gone full term?" Well, sure. But no.

You are alive because you DIDN'T go full term. If I hadn't noticed your lack of movement, you wouldn't have been born alive. If I had waited another day to call, it would have been too late.

And I don't give one little tiny single hint of a smidge of half an iota about your delays. You are here. I love you. Just the way you are. YOU, Mr Moose, are proof of some of the best decisions I ever made.

So THAT'S what an aneruysm feels like!

Yesterday I put Critter and SmudgeE in the playroom so that I could feed Moose without constantly yelping "SmudgeE Smith! Get that shoe out of your mouth!" or "Critter! Don't you pop SmudgeE's hand for eating shoes! Only Mama pops!"

After Moose finished eating I checked on Critter and Smudge. Since they were both curled up in the playroom reading, I put Moose on his tummy for some tummy time while I took a few blessed minutes to check facebook (insert Mama guilt here).

I logged on, read my notifications, and looked over to Moose. His back didn't appear to be rising and falling. I watched for another second. NO movement. I looked at his face: bluish tint. The laptop and floor now have dents where I dropped the computer out of my lap as I stood up and crossed 4 feet with one step. I touched Moose's hand. Nothing. I flipped Moose over onto his back while yanking the blanket from his legs and screaming "MOOSE!!!" Nothing. One part of my brain told me to start banging on his chest while the other part of my brain began to frantically search my memory for where I'd left my cell phone.

With the first punch to his heart Moose opened his perfect little eyes and let out a wail to wake stone mountains.

Turns out, he'd finally fallen into that sweet, perfect slumber that only babies are capable of. The blue tint was no doubt a result of the angle of the morning sun and the BLUE blanket I'd laid him on.

Moose was ticked off to say the least. I keeled over with giddy giggles.

An HOUR later my hands had stopped shaking enough for me to feel safe cutting up grapes for Critter and SmudgeE's snack. I cut the grapes, keeping one eye on my knife holding hand, the other on Moose.

I put Critter and SmudgeE in their seats, divided up the grapes between them and then decided that I would sit at the table with them and read a chapter of my new book. I read a page. I looked at all 3 babies, and read another page. I looked up. Moose- eating his fist. Critter- eating grapes. SmudgeE- keeled over in his highchair.

I dove across the table screaming SMUDGE!!!!!!! louder than I thought possible. I yanked his head back ready to jerk him out of his seat and dislodge a quarter of a grape from his windpipe.

Turns out, he'd fallen asleep-that deep baby sleep- in his high chair.

There is a definite possibility that no one in this house will ever sleep again.

You Know You're a Mama When...

1. Your middle child says "Muhhh, wa, WA, w.a.!" and you know that means he wants water.

2. Your oldest child says "Mama, you read Christmas book wi us" and you know that means he wants you to read "Spot's First Christmas"

3. Your youngest poos (yep, as is POOPS!!!- blech- poop *shudder*- sensitive gag reflex) on the floor, and you step on it, in YOUR BARE FEET, and you don't, in fact, barf all over him.

4. There are more dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets in your freezer than there are free countries on the planet.

5. The last 5 movies you downloaded contain at least one of the words "veggie" "tale" "tail" "train" "cartoon" "part 2"

6. You realize that at some point you stopped praying to live a long life "so that you can really live before you die" to "so that I can help my children through their own lives"

Oh so well, but not at all

Each night, after the babies are all sleeping deeply in their beds, I tiptoe in and watch them slumber. I look at their little noses. Chubby cheeks. Pinkish purple eyelids. I make sure they are breathing. That their toes are covered by their favorite blankets.

And I think, at this moment, I know them best. I know their likes and dislikes. I know when they need a nap. A snack. A cuddle.

But, my omnipotent knowledge of them is fleeting. One day I will sneak into their rooms and recognize their faces but not really know them at all.

One day, I won't be the one they cry for when they are hurt, lonely, scared. One day, very soon, they will roll their eyes at me and call their friends. Soon after that they will barely glance at me as they skip out the door for their girlfriends' houses.

I know the babies that they are. I don't know the men they will become.

My greatest hope is that during this fleeting time I can make enough of an impression on them that even when they disregard me, the morals I have instilled in them linger.

I won't know their deepest secrets. They won't tell me. They will, odds are, hide them from me and confide in one another. I won't know their deepest fears. They will, odds are, hide them from everyone.

But I pray nightly that they know no matter the secret, I love them. And no matter the fear, I'll do everything in my power to keep that fear a fear and not a reality.