DeadpanAnn (old blogger version)

Charlie gets cuter every day. I'm pretty sure he smiled at me today, and it wasn't gas.



My house will never be really clean again. I just don't have time or energy for it.

Hemorrhoids can strike when you least expect them. I won't elaborate on this one.

It does get better. Last night he slept for six consecutive hours-- and so did I!

Egg Nog has so much fat in it that drinking just a little bit will make you sleepy. Or maybe I was just sleepy.

My son is a world class farter. World class.

If you disconnect from the outside world and stay disconnected for a while, dates and times cease to hold meaning for you.

A husband will bitch and moan about the no-sex-for-six-weeks rule, but he will not go pick up a birth control prescription in time for it to kick in before the end of the sex embargo.

I'm probably gonna be knocked up again within a year. Not an idea that appeals to me at all. If that happens, I'll probably start putting something special in the egg nog.

Yesterday we had our family Thanksgiving get-together at sister-in-law #1's house. It was the first decent home-cooked meal we've had since my mom left three weeks ago. Delicious. I enjoyed it immensely.

What I did not enjoy was the fit Charlie threw last night when we got home. Mr. I've Been Held All Day Why Am I Not Being Held Now Pick Me Up Or I Will Never Stop Screaming Ever Ever Ever is a little bit predictable when it comes to how he'll behave after an afternoon with family members. It's really amazing to me how every little experience he has throughout the day has such a major impact on him, and because of this fact, I'm beginning to doubt that I will return to work in January.

Since I am bored and I'm having a hard time thinking of anything non-baby related to blog about, I stole this from Redneck Diva.

Four places that I go to over and over:

work (at least before maternity leave)
Wal Mart
the kitchen
the nursery

Four people who e-mail me (regularly):

sister-in-law #1
sister-in-law #2
sister
Dad

Four of my favorite places to eat:

sister-in-law #1's house
El Rancho
Sakura (Japanese)
Mom and Dad's (not my parents' house, but the restaurant in Petal)

Four places I would rather be right now:

shopping
eating out
in the shower
maybe even WORK

Four TV shows I watch over and over:

The Soup
The Shield
COPS
MSNBC's Lockup

Four unusual things in the room I’m in:

A breast pump
A kitty condo
A weird baby play mat thing that appears to be missing some parts
A VCR

Four concerts I’ve been to:

Bob Dylan
Willie Nelson
Wilco
Drive by Truckers, before they sucked

Four things on my calendar:

Charlie's next doctor's appointment-- January 7
MY next (and last!) doctor's appointment-- December 12
My birthday, December 23
The day I go back to work-- January 5

Four fears:

Heights
Cancer
Not doing something meaningful with my life
Being broadsided by another vehicle at an intersection. (Don't ask why, but the image of being obliterated at an intersection plays through my head at least five times a day, and I've never been one of those nervous drivers-- this didn't start until probably a year ago.)

Four unusual things in my purse or wallet:

Neosporin
Suckers that say "It's a Boy!"
A bunch of Wal Mart gift cards
a jump drive

Four chores I hate doing:

Cleaning Tim's toilet
Folding clothes
Picking up things that other people leave lying around when they very easily could've picked them up if they just GAVE A DAMN
Taking out the garbage, especially when it gets really full

Four favorite animals:

Goats
Boxers (the dog)
Cows
Kittens

Four speed dials on my cell phone:

Tim's cell
Tim's work
Mom
Brenda

Four places I have called home:

Nesbit, MS
Memphis, TN
Yazoo Shitty, MS
Hattiesburg, MS

Four websites (not blogs) I visit:

ebay
a website where locals share info (and talk shit to each other)
Ivillage
my employer's website

Four people who have been in my car:

Tim
Charlie
my friend Rhonda
that might actually be it...guess I'm not much of a chauffer

Four things I am wearing:

glasses
shirt
sweat pants
underwear

Four things I am looking forward to:

Taking a shower when Charlie falls asleep
My next meal when Charlie falls asleep
Charlie falling asleep
My next trip out of the house

Four favorite types of candy:

Snickers
Hershey's
Twix
Milky Way

Four sports teams you like:

New York Giants (Go Eli)
New Orleans Saints
Anyone who beats the Jets and/or sacks Favre a lot
Southern Miss Golden Eagles

Four things found in your fridge:

Leftover red beans and rice
Uncooked pork chops that Tim is going to grill tonight
Three week old pitcher of tea
a bunch of other inedible crap

Four rituals (not just a task) you do every day:

Make coffee
Check email
As soon as Charlie is old enough to go out more, I will resume the ritual of driving SOMEWHERE every day, even if I have no destination

Four things currently within reach:

Laptop
Car seat
Baby blanket
Empty coffee cup

Four things you know how to cook:

Kickass Lasagna
Chicken Spaghetti
Homemade Pizza
Salmon Cake Thingies

...it's that I can't relax.

Over the last several days, I have realized that I actually do have time to sleep enough to keep from being a zombie. Charlie sleeps up to 4 hours at a time, sometimes even longer if I'm lucky. If I could sleep during those long stretches, I'd be good. But I can't sleep because I can't relax, and that's because you never know which of his naps is a long one, and which is a short one. There is no predictability. When he lies down to sleep, it might be five hours before he's up again...or it might be thirty minutes. So when I try to steal a nap, I'm on alert. I usually can't doze off because every sound I hear makes my eyes pop wide open. Was that Charlie? Is he up? Is he about to start crying? Common sense says to just ignore it until he does start crying, or until I know for a fact that he is, indeed, awake and demanding my attention. But it doesn't work that way. If I wait until he's crying, dealing with him is harder. It's so much easier if I can anticipate his needs and be ready to meet them instantly. Offering him food before he gets hungry to the point of being pissed at the world is a lot easier than feeding him once he's throwing a fit. The same goes for changing his diaper, giving him a pacifier, or just picking him up to hold him. I can't sleep because I'm trying to anticipate his needs, but I can't really anticipate his needs because every time I think I've figured out a pattern to them, he throws me a curveball.

Take now for example. It's past midnight. He ate his last meal at 10:00, and has been awake since then. Normally, he'd be asleep right now, and so would I, but I think someone sprinkled some crack on his pacifier, because he's literally been moving nonstop for the last hour and a half. He'll start to doze off, then wake himself up and be wide eyed and wiggling for another half hour. I laid in bed listening to him kick the sides of the bassinet for a while, then decided it would be easier to just get up with him and let him work some of the energy out. I wonder if they make baby Nyquil.

I'm kidding about the baby Nyquil. Sort of.

Charlie pulled a mean joke on me this morning. He woke up at 7:00, fussing. It had only been 2 hours since he last ate, so I gave him some gas drops, which I always do first thing in the morning because that seems to be when he fusses with gas. I also changed his poopy diaper, swaddled him tightly, and then put him back to bed. But he wasn't having it. He kicked, he fussed, he spit his binky out so angrily that it landed at his feet. After putting him off for half an hour, I finally fed him, even though it wasn't time. He seemed content after booby time, then dozed off. I put him back to bed. As soon as I did, he woke up, and started whining again. I begged him for one more hour of sleep, but he wouldn't listen. So at 8:00, I got up with him.

As soon as we were walking down the hallway toward the living room, he was thrilled. He started smiling, which warmed my heart so well that I almost didn't need a cup of coffee to get going. Little did I know that the little booger was smiling because I had taken the bait.

I put him in his carseat on the couch, covered him with a little blanket, and headed to the kitchen. Four minutes later, I was back with my cup of coffee--- the one, cherished cup of coffee that I allow myself to have, so that the young 'un doesn't get too much caffeine. I made it extra strong today.

Coffee time has become something of a routine for me and Charlie. He sits in his carseat next to me and gazes contentedly while I sip the first half of my cup of coffee. About halfway through my coffee, he wants to be held. He usually gets the hiccups around this time, so I pick him up and let him lie on my chest while I pat him on the back. Normally, he just calms down and then goes back to his carseat where he chills out for another hour or so. We usually listen to music and talk a little bit during this time. By the time I get back to my cup of coffee, it's cold, so I only get half a cup each morning.

But not today. No, that wasn't part of his plan. Today he let me finish the entire cup before he wanted to be held. And instead of staying up for another hour, this morning he went straight back to sleep during back-rubbing-hiccup-soothing time.

Lemme run ya back through that again. At 8:00, I was leaning over his bassinet, bags under my eyes, having had about 4 hours of sleep total-- begging, pleading with him to give me one more hour of sleep. I promised him ice cream, petting zoos, and trips to Toys R Us. No deal. So at 8:05, I was walking down the hallway with him, thinking we were up for the day. And at 8:30, he was asleep again, having let me finish the entire cup of coffee.

Since then I've been sitting on the couch, wired for 220, while he and Tim sleep peacefully.

Prankster.

Charlie is awesome. This post has nothing to do with his awesomeness-- in fact, I'm about to bitch about his incessant sleepeatpooping, but I just thought I'd remind you that he is indeed awesome.

Today I learned why I'm even more exhausted than usual. I learned that three weeks of age is the typical time for a growth spurt, and three week old babies eat every 2 hours during a growth spurt. Every. Two. Hours. We were up to about 4 hours, so this sudden jump back to eating every 2 hours feels unfair. Cruel, even. He went from 2 middle of the night feedings to 3 or 4. Every time I hear him cry during the night, all I can think is Already?

This morning at 4:00, I'm pretty sure I fell asleep for a few minutes while feeding him. He was back in bed again by 4:30, but woke up again at 5:00, having pooped his pants and wiggled out of his swaddle, and then he woke up again at 6:00 for his next meal. Then again at 8, and so forth. At 10:00, I gave up trying to sleep, and have been up all day. I didn't even take my 3:00 nap today. It would take me probably 20 minutes to fall asleep, and then I'd only get an hour and a half of actual sleep, and it just didn't seem worth it. Normally I don't take any time to fall asleep, but these days my mind is always racing. I don't know if it's hormones or anxiety or both, but I find myself lying with my eyes wide open thinking about all sorts of things-- what if the babysitter is really an evil witch who eats babies? I don't remember her showing me where he would sleep. What if she puts him on a regular bed and he rolls over and suffocates? Should I go back to work at all? How will I breastfeed him if I do go back? Won't I miss teaching if I don't go back? Will they suspend my license for a year if I don't finish my contract? What will I say to my boss if I quit? Will it help Charlie to have me home at this age, or should I wait until he's older to stop working? I wonder if that diaper rash hurts him as bad as it hurts me. He seemed to like his first few baths, so I wonder why he threw such a fit during his bath yesterday. Why am I still awake? He's gonna be up soon. My boobs hurt. I wish formula was good for babies, but I'd never stop worrying that it was made by some American hating Chinese baby poison factory. Shit, is he up already? --when I could and should be stealing a few minutes of sleep.

It's 7:15, and my little booby loving angel is stirring. I'm definitely going to bed after this feeding.

If you don't get postpartum depression because of hormonal changes, you'll sure as hell get it after being locked up in the house for weeks on end. F*ck I'm bored!!! It's making me irritable, too. I walked to the mailbox earlier today, and it was like an adventure. The sun nearly burned my corneas, it's been so long since I've been in direct sunlight. I've got to get out of this house soon for something other than a doctor's appointment, or I'm gonna lose it.

Tim has been gone all day, and I'm jealous. His motorcycle screwed up, so he loaded it onto the trailer and took it to the Harley dealership in Jackson. He's on his way back now. I think I'm going to go for a ride when he gets back. To where I don't know, but I'm going somewhere.

Eh, who am I kidding? I'll probably be asleep by the time he gets back.

Yesterday was Charlie's two week checkup. They said the goal is always for the baby to get back to his/her birth weight within two weeks, so we were hoping he'd be back to 8 lbs 14 oz. The little chunk was 9 lbs 12 oz!!! He weighed 8 lbs 14 oz when he was born, had gotten down to 8 lbs 4 oz when he left the hospital, and was 8 lbs 8 oz at his two day checkup. So since November 5, he's gained 1 pound and 4 ounces! I knew he was growing because he can barely fit into his newborn size diapers anymore. I can squeeze him into them, and will continue to do so just to keep from having to throw/give them away, but the size 1's fit better.

My boy's growing up. :sniff sniff: Next thing you know, he'll only talk to me when he wants my money or my car.

The pediatrician said not to take him anywhere, especially around other kids, until he's had his first round of vaccinations. That's not until January 7, which sorta kills my plans to take him to my mom's for Christmas. I was thinking about taking him anyway, but considering how my loving family members responded when I told them what the doctor said, I'm currently leaning more towards telling them to suck it.

The birth announcements that I ordered on tinyprints.com came in today, and they look like crap. The picture is too dark. I paid $10 extra to have a proof emailed to me so this wouldn't happen. The proof looked good, but the actual cards are too dark. I just talked to their customer service department, and they're going to lighten the photo some more and reprint them for free. That's nice, but the photo being dark isn't the only problem. The paper isn't the best quality, and the overall product just seems cheap. It wasn't cheap, though. I should get the reprints by next week. Who wants to bet this bunch is just as craptacular? Now who wants to bet I wouldn't even care so much if I hadn't been locked up in this house for the last 20 days??

Now I know why housewives do so many prescription drugs. I could use a fvckit pill right now.

Did you know that when you have a newborn you get to sleep until noon? It's true. I can also eat whatever I want, and nap every few hours, and sit on the couch most of the time. Of course, this leisurely lifestyle comes with a few strings attached.

I slept til noon today. From 10:30 a.m. 'til noon, that is. But let's back up, oh, twelve hours or so. I tried to nap at 6:00 yesterday, but my loving husband came in from wiring the brake lights of a trailer to get me to stand out in the driveway and tell him whether all the lights were working when he turned on the blinkers. Yeah. He woke me up for that. Woke me up even though he knows we have a 2 week old and I'm sleeping when I can. I had just started to drift off when he barged in, too. When I finally got back into bed, I was too pissed off to sleep. Then at 6:30, Charlie woke up. So scratch the 6:00 p.m. cat nap.

From 6:30 to 8:30, I was feeding, bathing, and entertaining Charlie. At 8:30 he dozed off. I think I ate dinner. I'm sure I ate something at some point, but I can't remember what I ate or when. At 10:50, he woke up hungry. I fed him, changed him, etc., then put him back to bed around 11:30.

I went to bed. By the grace of God, Charlie slept until 4:00 a.m. That's the longest he's ever gone between feedings, and the longest stretch of sleep I've had in 16 days. When I got up to take care of him at 4:00, Tim was still up. He couldn't sleep. I'm thinking maybe it was KARMA for waking me up from my 6:00 nap! HA!


Tim wanted to feed Charlie this time, so I warmed up a bottle of breastmilk and gave it to him. Here's the deal, though. When you're breastfeeding, there are no breaks. Just because my husband is handling a feeding doesn't mean I'm off the hook. I still have two boobs full of milk, and that stuff's got to come out on a regular basis. So while Tim is feeding Charlie the milk I pumped earlier in the day, I'm sitting right there next to them, pumping what Charlie would be eating if I were the one handling the feeding. The only benefit to this is that it's quicker. He'll eat the same amount of breastmilk from a bottle in 15 minutes that it takes him about 30 to get from the breast, and I can pump the same amount out in about 10 minutes. This works out nicely for me, as long as I can finish pumping and get outta dodge before Tim finishes feeding Charlie the bottle, for after the bottle comes diaper changing time! As long as I can get out of sight before diaper time, Tim handles it, and I can go back to bed. He's not a very good swaddler, though, so I usually have to get back up after diaper time to reswaddle Charlie so he'll fall asleep. If he's not swaddled, his arms start flailing and he wakes up in a rage.

Okay, so back to the last 12 hours of my life of leisure. I pumped from 4:00 to about 4:20. My memory is foggy, but I think Tim handled the diaper changing and the swaddling, and I went back to bed. Or maybe I got up and swaddled him and put him to bed-- I can't remember. At some point I did get to bed, and I slept until 7:00 a.m., when Charlie woke up again. Man, this was a rough one. He was in the bassinet two feet from my head, and when he started making noise I sooooooo didn't want to wake up. I had to pry my eyelids apart and hold them open for a few minutes before my brain caught up with the cold reality.

Speaking of cold, IT WAS, but my little man was sweating in his onesie. He can sweat through a shirt quicker than his daddy. It's weird. Sometimes I let him sleep naked-- just in his diaper and swaddled in a light blanket, but it was cold last night, so I dressed him for bed. I guess he's better off naked.


Anyway, he got up at 7:00 a.m. He ate. He pooped. He peed. I changed him. I put him back to bed. He protested. I thought he was gassy, and I put him in bed with me and rubbed his belly for a while. He pooped again. I changed him again. He nodded off. I put him back to bed. He woke up again and started crying and grunting. I rubbed his belly some more. He then did the "rooting" thing where he tries to latch onto anything that sticks out a little. By this time, it was 9:30, so I fed him again. He finally fell back asleep around 10:00, and I followed soon thereafter. I slept until noon, and have been up since then. He stayed asleep until 2:00.

Since then we've had one feeding, which Tim handled because I was out in the driveway having a showdown with the carseat. I came inside just in time to hear Tim in the back room changing Charlie's diaper. I knew he was changing him because he was singing "Senor Poopy Pants" to him. All of a sudden, I heard a loud, wet...well, fart. An explosive one. And productive, too. Tim yelled, "Oohhhhh NNNnooooooo!" I started laughing, and got up to go help. I've been the victim of Charlie's mid-diaper-change-projectile-poop and it's really hard to contain once it gets started unless you've got an extra pair of hands. Just as I was getting up to go help, I heard Tim say, "Guess we'll be washing that blanket!" Then the fireworks started again. Every time we thought we had the disaster contained, Charlie did something else. We were pooped on multiple times, and he did the piss-across-the-room thing that little baby boys are so notorious for. We finally got him cleaned up and in a fresh diaper, and I got everything cleaned up. It must've taken 20 minutes.

Strangely, this was the best part of my day so far. How can you not laugh? Just when I get so exhausted that my sense of humor is starting to wear thin, Charlie blows mud all over his daddy and makes it allllll worthwhile!

After the diaper change from hell, Charlie was up for a couple of hours. During those two hours, his stomach was upset. He puked, which he's never done before. I don't know if I ate something that he didn't like or what, but he didn't have a fever and he seems to be better for now. Since he spewed up his 2:00 meal, he was hungry again at 3:30, so I fed him.

That brings us to now. I started this post at 1:09 and wrote it a little at a time, so if it's less than coherent, that's why. It's 4:05. I'm about to go take a shower and get dressed, though I'm not sure why.

This first paragraph might gross you out if you're the easily grossed out kind. Remember two weeks ago when that madman sliced a hole in my stomach and yanked a baby out of it? Remember that? Well that hole is giving me some trouble. I had my 2 week follow up appointment this past Thursday, and he said that there was a nasty red spot in the middle of it, but just to leave it alone. Then yesterday I noticed that the incision had bled a little, which it AIN'T supposed to be doing at this point. Then today the left side of it started aching, and I made Tim look at it really closely since I can't really get a close look myself, and he said it looked like it had come open-- or maybe it was just inflamed-- he didn't know what was going on, but he said it didn't look good. Then a few hours after Tim's inspection of the left side, the right side started aching. I haven't made him inspect it yet. I'm fairly certain something awful is going on down there. I don't have a fever, but I'm sick to my stomach, maybe just because the thought of having an infected incision in my gut is kinda, well, gut wrenching.

It's been over a week since I've taken any pain medication, but I'm seriously considering popping a couple of pills right now.

Speaking of pain medication, if you ever have major surgery and the doctor tries to send you home with Tylox, insist on something else. They gave me Percocet in the hospital, and that stuff kicked ass. It not only made me not hurt-- it made me feel really good, like I could do anything I wanted. Like I hadn't even had surgery. That feeling usually only lasted for about an hour after taking it, and then I paid the price for moving around too much, but still-- what a great hour. When I was discharged, they took away my sweet, sweet Percocet, and replaced it with Tylox. Tylox takes the edge off-- KINDA-- and that's all I can say for it. I took it for about 4 days after getting home, but after that I swore it off. I knew that Charlie had to be getting a certain amount of it through breastmilk, and it just wasn't worth exposing him to it when it wasn't really helping me anyway.

Pookie seems to be adjusting to Charlie's arrival, finally. The day we brought him home, we put him in the bassinet in the living room. Pookie jumped up onto the coffee table, stood on his hind legs, and peered over into the bassinet. About that time, Charlie started to cry. Pookie threw his ears back, tucked his tail, and ran. We didn't see him for three days. He finally got hungry enough to forgive us, but he was only coming inside to eat. Then a few days ago, while Charlie was asleep in the nursery, Pookie came and curled up in my lap. I guess I'm forgiven. Maybe he'll make nice with Charlie when he gets a little bit bigger. I've heard that some cats run away when a baby arrives in the home. At least Pookie hasn't hit the road yet.

We need a new dining room table. The one we've got has all kinds of faded places on it, and there are no matching chairs. The chairs we do have are wobbly and old, from some hand-me-down set that Tim's had for an eternity. I won't sit in them-- I use the metal folding chairs. It's really embarrassing when people come over. So yeah. We really need a new dining room set. We've known this for a long time, but it's just one of those things you can put off because it doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. Well, we wanted to get it before Charlie was born, but we didn't. And we wanted to get it before Thanksgiving, but I doubt that's gonna happen. We don't want to take Charlie out, so we can't go to the furniture store together, and I don't trust Tim to pick out something on his own. He will talk himself into buying something we don't really want just because it's cheaper, and then I'll have a brand new table and chairs that I don't like, and it'll be years before I can finally replace it. I'm not willing to risk it.

Well, Tim is always browsing Craig's List, and two days ago he found an ad for an antique mahogany table and chairs with a matching buffet. It had belonged to the seller's grandmother, who lived in California, and had been in storage in Laurel, MS for some time. The only picture she had of it showed only one little corner of the table, but it looked okay. After talking to the seller on the phone, we made arrangements to meet her at the storage place in Laurel, which is a 35 minute drive up the interstate.

I wasn't a huge fan of the idea of loading up Charlie and all of the many baby related items that we now have to travel with, but I thought if this furniture was what the lady claimed, it might be a sweet opportunity to get something really nice. So we loaded up Charlie and all the Charlie paraphernalia, and drove to Laurel...where we were sorely disappointed to find that this crazy bitch had the nerve to ask $1,000 for a woe-out old raggedy ass table. Yeah, it was mahogany, and yeah, it was probably very nice eighty years ago. But it ain't nice now. The chairs were even worse. God they were awful. They had burgundy cushions on them. Horrendous. I had followed the lady into the storage unit first while Tim waited in the car with Charlie. It took me about 2.3 seconds to decide we didn't want it, so I told her I was going to go get Tim. I got back in the car and told him it was a piece of shit and I didn't want it. He went to look for himself, and he couldn't believe what a pile of crap it all was.

We might've given her $250 for both the table and hutch with the chairs. Maybe. MAYBE. But she wanted $1450 for the whole set. It's like she was charging extra for the sentimental value it held for her. Why are people stupid? In this case, the better question might be Why do people think WE are stupid? Fourteen hundred and fifty dollars? Really?

I still need a dining room table.

Ask me about my thirty pounds in thirty minutes weight loss plan! That's how much I lost. Okay, so it's been almost two weeks since I had the baby, so I have no way of knowing that I lost it all right away. But as of today I've lost 30 pounds. I weigh the exact same thing today as I weighed before getting pregnant. That doesn't exactly make me a supermodel, but it does make me less of a fat ass. Maybe if I keep breastfeeding a while I'll keep losing.

Tim's sister, niece, niece's roommate, nephew, and nephew's girlfriend came over yesterday afternoon to visit Charlie. They spent about 3 1/2 hours holding him while he slept, and last night he decided to go apeshit when we put him to bed. I'm not 100% convinced that it was because he was held all afternoon, but he did the same thing the day my sister held him a lot and the day Tim's other sister held him a lot. Last night he had some gas, and he seemed to calm down once I gave him some Mylicon, so maybe it wasn't their fault. Maybe. But I'm still imposing a new Charlie-holding policy. No more than one hour of continuous holding at a time. They can adore him while he swings, or while he chills in his car seat. Anyone who wants to argue will be cordially invited to spend the night dealing with the aftermath.

Today I got a good nap. It was better than sex.

I'm a wee bit sick and damn tired of relatives.

First, my mother stayed from the day Charlie was born until Wednesday or Thursday. It was nice to have her around for the first few days because I was in serious pain, and she cooked and kept the house from falling apart when I was unable to bend over to pull up my own panties, much less cook dinner. Then she left, and my sister and bro-in-law came for the weekend. They're low maintenance visitors. Then they left and my sister-in-law and brother-in-law came by today for a few hours. Tim's niece has been calling, setting a time to come, then cancelling at the last minute for three days now, as has his other sister. It's frustrating to spend the afternoon thinking someone's coming only to have them change their mind at the last minute. I have to time feedings and naps and what not so that I won't be starting to feed him just as someone rolls up to visit. It takes like 45 minutes to feed him.

Today Tim's sister held him for two straight hours, and tonight he was being pissy because he now thinks he ought to be able to sleep in someone's arms instead of in his crib. I'm sure it'll be the same way whenever Niece finally shows up and spends the entire damn afternoon holding him.

Basically, I just want people to stay the hell away and keep their germy hands off my baby. It does no good to put a gigantic bottle of Germ-X on the coffee table. People can't take a damn hint, and then they get offended if you ask them to wash their hands.

People are stupid and I hate them.

Charlie smiled for us a little tonight.







Here he is with Mimaw.





And me. I finally allow a pic of myself to appear here, and it's me sans bra, clothing, makeup, hair, or even contacts. But Charlie makes up for it.



He's always got the most serious looks on his face.


Here he is, working up a good poop.

Charles Levi McWilliams
November 1, 2008
8 lbs, 14 oz, 20.25 inches

After the doctor changed his mind and Tim called back and insisted that we get the show on the road, we went to the hospital Saturday at 1:00. I was having contractions and horrible back pains, but not dilating. The next two hours were hell. Tim's sisters showed up five minutes after we arrived at the hospital, even though we had told them that we had no idea what would happen when we got there and that we would call them when we had a definite plan-- and even though I had made it clear months ago that I did not want anyone but my husband and my mother in the room while I was in labor. All that, and I still had to lie there on a table having my clothes pulled up over my head and walking down the hall with my ass hanging out while the family hovered around me.


To make it better, the nurse who was taking care of me was an incompetent space cadet. She said she hardly ever works-- I think she works when they need her and she feels like it. She couldn't find anything, couldn't figure out the tubing on the iv, blew two veins while trying to put in my iv, and basically spent 2 hours making me even more nervous than I already was. The doctor finally came in, checked me, and said that an induction would probably not work because I was too closed for him to break my water. He said there was another girl down the hall who was in pre-term labor with twins, and he needed to make sure she was safe before he went into surgery with me, so my surgery would be around 6:00. It was 3:30 at that time, so we settled in and prepared to wait a couple more hours.

Five minutes later, Space Cadet rushed in and said the doctor had changed his mind and wanted to get my surgery done first. She began giving me all the drugs and getting me ready for surgery. Then she came up to the side of the bed with an electric razor in her hand and said she was going to shave me. I said, "Shave my stomach?" She said yes. Then she shaved me. But. Um. She didn't shave just my stomach, y'all. If you get my drift. I was shocked and appalled! I thought that was an outdated practice, and I did ask her why it was done. She said something about reducing the risk of infection, and went right on about her business of turning my lady bits into Lolitaville.

Once I was successfully transformed into pedophile bait, they wheeled my bed to the O.R. Tim followed behind, but had to wait outside while I was prepped. When they got to the entrance of the actual operating room, there was a black nurse in there by herself, and she was dancing. I can't remember if there was music or not, but there was most definitely a dancing nurse. She wasn't just bopping her head or getting into some music, but she was dancing-- I mean pop lock and droppin' it! I expected her to stop and compose herself when we came up to the door, but she didn't; she just looked me dead in the eye and kept right on rockin'. For a moment I thought maybe I was hallucinating from all the drugs. It was very surreal.

Finally, they wheeled me into the room. It was just me, Space Cadet, Dancing Nurse, and the anesthesiologist. He reminded me of Big Gay Al. He repeatedly assured me he was gonna take good care of me and it was just gonna be fabulouuuuuuus!

Putting in the spinal, however, was anything but fabulous. I can't even bear to relive it here. Just be prepared for it to suck ass if you ever have to have it done. I'll leave it at that.

I had asked the doctor how high up the numbness would go, and he'd told me it would be from the nipples down. They said I'd be able to move my arms and touch the baby when they brought him around, but I guess the stuff worked a little too well, because just a few minutes after getting the spinal, I was completely numb from the nose down. This made me feel like I couldn't breathe, because I couldn't move my chest. I started to freak out, but the doctor told me I was moving enough oxygen. That didn't convince me. All I knew was that I was paralyzed and gasping for air. The guy kept telling me that I was okay. They spread me out on the table and put up the big blue screen and everything, and then a nurse rushed into the O.R. and told my doctor he was needed immediately in room 28. He jumped up and rushed out. I assumed room 28 was where the preterm twins were. About five minutes later, he came rushing back in the door with a nurse, and she said, "We need to do this one quickly!"

Fantastic. I'm spread out naked on a table, paralyzed, gasping for air, scared out of my mind, and now they're going to rush through this. Just great. I think if I hadn't been paralyzed, I would've gotten up and ran screaming from the hospital at that point.

They finally called Tim in. He asked if I was okay. I could barely talk, because everything was so numb, even in my face. I managed to tell him I couldn't breathe, and the anesthesiologist explained to him that they were watching my oxygen and that I was getting enough, etc. Then I guess they started the surgery. It was not the beautiful process you see on Discovery Health channel. It was violent. There was lots of tugging and pulling. My arms flopped off the table several times. It took about ten minutes, and then I heard the doctor say, "He's got a big head. We made the right decision here." Then more tugging, then a little cry, then a pause, then a big cry! Tim jumped up and went to the other side of the screen where I couldn't see anything.

A few minutes later, Tim came over with Charlie in his arms. I couldn't see him-- I could only see a tiny little piece of his face. Then Tim moved part of the little blanket out of the way and I saw him. All I could think was that he was so pretty. I guess I expected him to be kinda haggard looking after the journey or something, but he wasn't. He was pretty.

Then Tim and the nurse left the room with him. I don't know how long it took them to close me up, but soon I was being moved from the table to my bed again. They nearly dropped me while moving me back to the bed, by the way. Space Cadet and Dancing Nurse got a little ahead of the anesthesiologist, who was charged with the all important task of not dropping my head and shoulders onto the floor.

They took me back into my same room, but nobody was in there. As soon as we stopped rolling, the ceiling went to spinning. It turned out that my blood pressure was insanely low. I didn't know where everyone else was, but I laid alone in that room watching the ceiling spin and listening to some kind of alarm go off every time it took my blood pressure, which was every few minutes.

Anyway, they gave me some pain medicine as soon as the baby was out, so the rest of the night was very foggy. Tim finally walked in with the baby and said that everyone was chomping at the bit to hold him, but I had made it very clear that heads would roll if anyone besides Tim held him before me, so he wanted to let me spend a few minutes holding him before anyone else. He tried to hand him to me, but I couldn't take him because I still couldn't feel my arms. The nurse told him I shouldn't hold him until my blood pressure came back up. He just held him up to me for a few minutes and I tried to take him all in but I was doped.

Soon, the room was flooded with relatives. I told Tim to go ahead and let them hold him since I couldn't, and I barely got the words out of my mouth before Charlie was being passed around. I had to lie there for 6 hours without sitting up straight or moving, but I did manage to hold him a little bit before my time was officially up.

We got to leave Monday night at 5:00. The last few days have been long, but we've got the coolest baby in the history of babies, so it's worth it.

Last night Tim and I went out on a date, since I might be having a baby today. We'll know something at 8:01, hopefully.