Deja vu

When I took a trip recently to visit my family in northern Illinois, my grandmother gave me a photo that was taken in July 1977. It shows my mother, standing in front of our old house, holding 4-month-old me while my late Aunt Ann admires my cuteness.

Coincidentally, my visit was in July, when my own daughter was 4 months old. So I was inspired to recreate the photo with Allison's Aunt Cathy. This photo was taken outside my parents' new home, which is just next door to the old place.

It's amazing to me how much Allison and I look alike as babies! Except that she has a cuter forehead...

More blog entries to come - I've got lots of stories and catching up to do! Meanwhile, if you're itching for more Allison photos check out the link to the right, which will take you to our Flickr photo album.

A tooth in a tumor

I made reference in my last post to a time when my supposedly spayed cat went into heat. For about four days Cleo howled nonstop, pointed her little butt up into the air, and made passes at the dog. When I told the vet about it, she said "she's just enjoying the springtime." And that it probably wouldn't happen again.

Well a few weeks ago, it happened again. This time, she was enjoying the season for a full week.

The vet had me bring Cleo in to do some blood tests. Now, Doc tends to ramble on a lot and toss out a lot of theories, especially in regards to what a cat's issue could be, as they apparently are an enigma to even modern medicine. I usually manage to grasp only a vague sense of what she's talking about. In this case she went on and on about what she must believe to be the common occurrence of finding a tooth in a cancer patient's tumor because a tooth cell somehow got inside a tumor. Similarly, she theorizes, an ovarian cell may have somehow gone AWOL and grown a new ovary somewhere in Cleo's body, where it set up a hormone-making factory that causes her to have heat-like symptoms.

Or, as David and I theorize, maybe the vet just forgot to spay the stinkin cat.

Back in January, I brought Cleo in for her last set of shots. The vet told me to bring her back in February to be spayed. But when I went to check out, the receptionist said I didn't need to bring Cleo back for a year - when it was time for her next round of vaccinations. When I mentioned that Doc told me Cleo still needed to be spayed, the receptionist said Cleo's chart showed that had already been done. According to Cleo's records, she was spayed when she was five weeks old (about a month before we met her and decided to adopt her). The receptionist pointed this out to the vet, who said, "oh yeah. We did do that." When I inquired as to why a kitten would have been spayed at such a young age the vet said it was a clerical error.

To this day the vet insists Cleo WAS spayed, and she will not even entertain the idea that perhaps she's thinking of another cat on the operating table. She's sticking with the tooth in the tumor theory. Yet in her 25 years in the field she has never seen a spayed cat go into heat, and the idea is now so fascinating to her that she told me she has some scientist friends who may want to study Cleo. But she wants to see the results of the blood test first.

It has now been three weeks since I took Cleo in for those tests. I have called the vet's office about five times to inquire about the results. I have not heard back from her. Could it be the results show Cleo is the owner of two healthy, perfectly intact ovaries? Impossible.

By the way, the latest and perhaps final theory about Mazzy's condition is that she has irritable bowel syndome. Which basically means she (and Cleo, for convenience sake) can only eat prescription cat food from now on. The stuff sells for about 17 bucks for a very small bag that can only be purchased from your local vet. Sheesh. But Mazzy has shown improvement.

Several of you commented on my last entry (and I'm sure some of you are already planning to make similar comments on this entry) that it may be time for a new vet. Maybe so. I've been sticking with this one for as long as I have for two reasons: 1.) I was really impressed by how well she treated Callie in her final days. She made her comfortable and really tried everything to save her. When we did have to put Callie down, the vet cried. That endeared her to me. And 2.) because we adopted Cleo through her, we get 50% off all her vet bills. Sweet!

But I'll keep the advice in mind. We'll see how things go on Friday when I have to take Jonas in to check out a newly developed limp.

More Cat Drama

So Mazzy is proving to be a medical enigma. Ever since February she's had what appears to be a common cold or allergies, with sneezing, watery eyes - nothing too alarming. I ignored it while I focused on child bearing, assuming her body would take care of it. But then - gross out warning - around Easter she started throwing up, and it had a red tinge to it. The vet diagnosed it as an upper respiratory infection, and Mazzy (or May-zee, as the vet calls her) was prescribed a complex regimen of meds - an anti-nausea pill to take twice a day, half an hour before eating; an antibiotic to eat with each meal; and a gel I had to smear directly into her eyes twice a day. This conflicted with our weekend plans to visit my parents-in-law, so Mazzy tagged along. I couldn't subject my catsitters to that, even if one of them is the daughter of a vet. Mazzy seemed happier that weekend than she had in a long time. She was social, her fur felt noticeably softer, and her symptoms disappeared. It could have been a cold, it could have been allergies, or it could have been a reaction to a stressful situation at home, which she was relieved from with a trip to the lake house.

Sometime close to the end of April, though, the sneezing and vomiting returned. This time the vet guessed it to be allergies, so she gave us some antihistamines. Two days later, Mazzy threw up all day long, again with a reddish hue, and even peed outside the litter box for the first time in her life. Our vet was out of town, so her husband advised we take her to the emergency vet, where she ended up spending the night.

The emergency vet ran every test imaginable (including an X-ray, which showed something in her stomach. Jury is still out as to whether that something was just FOOD - helpful) and concluded she had some kind of virus (as well as an "unrelated" urinary tract infection, which we were given medicine to treat). They then tested her for two of the three bad (aka, fatal) feline viruses - feline leukemia and feline AIDS - and cleared her of both. The third they recommended our regular vet test for, but statistically it would be a real stretch if she had that one. Good news is, all of her organs are fine. We had been worried about her kidneys and about her suffering the same fate as Callie and were relieved to know that wasn't the case. So, $700 later, we're back to the common cold theory.

That theory would hold if Mazzy didn't have another issue. At her late April visit, her vet told us to watch her weight. She had lost a pound since her last checkup six months before, but that also could have been due to the addition of a kitten in our household. The emergency vet found Mazzy had lost an additional two pounds since then - which was just a matter of days. Another theory was thrown in the hat that she had inflammatory bowel disease, but our regular vet doesn't seem to think that could be the case. Mazzy was fed fluids through an IV during her overnight stay at the emergency clinic but didn't eat any solid food while she was there. That worried the emergency vet, but the second we got Mazzy home that Sunday she ate about three bowls of cat food.

We switched up her food from the weight watchers formula to the fatty-bo-batty formula, and increased the number of scoops we feed her. Since then, she hasn't gotten sick, and her sneezing has been better (we cut her off of those antihistamines, though, since they could have been a cause of the vomiting). The only issue we've had is the bandage covering her leg where the IV had been was on a bit tight. When I cut it off, her foot was swollen to three times its normal size and she couldn't put any weight on it. It's fine now - just looks a little funny from having been shaved around the ankle.

But this morning she got sick again, at least three times between 6 a.m. and 8 a.m. I called the vet and have been instructed to bring her back this afternoon for some kind of injection that will "quiet her tummy." Mazzy will also be given some anti-inflammatory medication twice a day, and put on a bland diet. Sounds like we're just grasping at straws now. Anyone got a dart board and a blindfold?

If all this weren't enough - remind me to tell you the story sometime of how the kitten (Cleo, by the way) went into heat about a month back. Oh wait, she's been spayed. At least according to our vet, who claims Cleo was "just enjoying the springtime."

These cats are making owning Jonas look easy.

Baby photos

Hi everyone

Just a quick note that I've added a convenient link to this page - located to the right under "My favorite links" that leads to our photo album of Allison. Check back periodically for updates! We just uploaded a new batch this morning if you'd like to check it out.

Meanwhile, I've got a backlog of blog ideas (not all of them baby-related, even!) and will hopefully be posting those soon. For now I'm just looking forward to seeing my mother and grandmother, who will be coming to Birmingham tomorrow night.

Eek! THAT'S where I came from?

Allison's been a busy girl these past few weeks. She's been awake a lot more during the day, and has even been sleeping through the night (by which I mean she sleeps until 5 or 5:30 a.m., which still forces her parents out of bed earlier than we're used to. But it's a huge accomplishment). She can hold her head up (mostly), scoot when you lay her on her back or stomach and hold her feet, and she's even given us a few sweet smiles.

I went back to work last week, and David is now on his second week of paternity leave. He's learning what I already knew - that taking care of a baby, even one who sleeps a lot, is a lot of work. Both of us had a lot of ambitions at the beginning of our leaves of getting things done around the house and writing that next great American novel we've been putting off. But the three hours between feedings goes fast. It takes her half hour to an hour to eat, then there's a few diaper changes, book reading (David's reading her War and Peace and I fluctuate between Dr. Seuss and the Norton Anthology of British Literature), and rocking to sleep. After she goes down for a nap, there's a little time for picking up all the burp clothes, bibs and blankets scattered all around the house, doing some laundry, unloading and reloading the dishwasher, or checking email. Of course, bottles always need cleaning for the next round of feedings. By the time you get a chance to sit down or realize you're starving for lunch, she's up asking for her next meal. Since she began spending more time awake during the day, we've to cut out the parts where we tidy, eat, and sit down. Yes, she's keeping us on our toes, and we realize that this is the least labor intensive part of her infancy.

But we're not complaining. She's a very good baby. And so far, knock on wood, not colicky. Poor thing does have some reflux issues, which causes her to scream in agony one or two meals a day, but the doctor gave us some medicine to curb that as well as the reassurance that she'll outgrow it by the time she's nine months old. The book Happiest Baby on the Block gave us good ammo for comforting her during the rougher times, although it was a bit hard to read at times (long winded and full of cheesy puns). We've become excellent swaddlers and shooshers.

Anyway, here's a link to some new photos, including some shots of her first trip to the zoo, which she slept through (except for the minute when we snapped the photo below). But I got some very cute shots of her twin cousin Ruby.

Isn't she lovely?

Thanks to my sister, Cathy, for creating this video in honor of Allison's one month birthday. Thought you'd all like to see!



For another fun video of Allison, check out her dad's blog.

My first month as a mom

In just two days, my daughter Allison will be one month old. It still feels strange for me to use the term "my daughter," even though I've already grown pretty fond of her. She's a nice girl.

As I start to get the hang of this mothering thing, I finally have some free time to update all of you on our new addition (for photos and stories of her birth and first days, you can check out David's blog). Many of you have already heard Allison's birth story. I am hesitant to talk about my labor as it's bound to make many mothers jealous. But maybe some future first-time moms can hear it and be encouraged that giving birth might not be so bad. But basically, my pain medications worked flawlessly. They made me a bit sleepy, so in between reading I napped. Once in awhile I'd feel a twinge in my abdomen and ask the nurse, "Was that a contraction?" She'd say, "Yes - a big one!" Finally, when it was time to start pushing, the nurse had to wake me up to let me know. After seven and a half hours of "labor" and 40 minutes (which seemed more like 15) of pushing, Allison was born. She weighed 7 pounds, 3 ounces (the same weight I was at birth) and was 20 inches long.

She was diagnosed with jaundice and had to spend four days on a "billy bed" - like a sunbathing booth without a lid. I was upset at first - she would have to be on this bed 24/7 except for feedings and diaper changes, meaning my parents, who were in town for a few days, wouldn't have much time to hold her. But it turned out the bed fit right into her cradle, so she could spend her days with us in the living room. The bed was actually pretty impressive. Allison was wrapped in a onesie-like outfit that was attached to the bed with Velcro. The back of the outfit was sheer so that her back was exposed to a blue light that helps clear away the jaundice. Finally, by her one-week birthday, her doctor said her jaundice was better and she was declared a healthy baby.

Allison's first night at home was a bit taxing - she had terrible gas and was up most of the night crying. David and I took one-hour shifts comforting her and sleeping, alternatively. We figured out, though, that we had forgotten to push the air out of the bottle insert, which caused her to have gas. Since then, she has done well sleeping at night. We sometimes have to wake her for her 2 a.m. feeding and occasionally she wakes us up in the early morning hours. We are tired much of the time, like most new parents, but I'd say we got it pretty easy.

This past week Allison has finally started to be awake more often. She sleeps most of the time during the day, which allows us plenty of down time, but it has been nice seeing her eyes once in awhile (it's still up for debate whether she'll have Balsley or Griner blue eyes).

This past weekend we visited my parents-in-law for Easter. We got some great photos of Allison and her 9-month-old cousin Ruby. Neither of them acknowledges the other's existence yet, but we are excited about the two of them growing up together.

I'm now down to just two more weeks of maternity leave, which makes me kind of sad. I'll miss being home with her all the time. David will take two weeks of leave after I go back to work, then she starts daycare at the University of Tots.

Thanks to everyone for your well wishes and support. As requested (or demanded, in some cases) here's more photos of Allison's first few weeks and her first Easter. Enjoy!

My Missed Opportunity to be a Hollywood Cliché

I have been waiting to go into labor for six days now. My doctor was surprised that she didn’t need to send me directly down to labor and delivery when I went in for my regular appointment last Thursday. I was 5 cm dilated at the time. For those of you who don’t know what that means – I’ve only recently learned myself – when the baby comes out, you’re 10 cm dilated. Many women, when they are rushed to the hospital because they’ve begun feeling the pain of regular contractions, are around 2 cm. When they reach 3-4 cm they are in active labor. Monday morning, I had grown to 6 cm with nary a contraction. So basically, this child is ready to fall out. My doctor has scheduled me to be induced Wednesday morning if she doesn’t decide to come out on her own.

Well at 3:30 this morning – my 31^st birthday – we were awoken by the sound of a tornado siren. The lightening flickered like a strobe light. David, my mom and I – each holding on to a pet – hunkered down on the floor of our hallway, the only area in the house with no windows, moments before the barometric pressure dropped. Just then, the front hit – it was the worst storm I can remember since moving to Alabama. This was the storm I had read about a few days ago that was to wreak havoc across the entire country. It started out in my old stomping grounds of northern California. On the Doppler it looked like a hurricane was about to hit the west coast, like a scene that might have been in the movie, Day After Tomorrow.

As the storm picked up strength, we heard a loud crash toward the back of the house, and knew it had to have been caused by the huge, dead hickory tree that stands five feet from the house and has been dropping branches the size of fruit trees for the past few weeks. I was envisioning a collapsed roof or broken window.

If this were a movie, this is the moment that my water would break or my contractions would start. But they didn’t.

Finally, the storm passed, and we looked out back to examine the damage. A branch had fallen, right on my Adirondack chairs in the back yard. It smashed one that my mother-in-law had given me for Christmas, but the one I had built last summer with my father-in-law was still in tact. And the cable line had been knocked down. This was fabulous news. We have half a dozen cables running across our lawn, and I have wanted to get rid of them ever since we moved in. The phone company had come out just the day before and taken down our phone line – which ran parallel to the cable line – and run a temporary line along the ground, to be buried later. It inevitably would have been torn down as well and we would have been without phone service for a few days, I'm sure. The cable line was next on my list to have removed, since we don’t use cable (even if we did subscribe to a television service, we’re dish people). So that was a nice birthday present.

What I really wanted for my bday, though, was my baby. Wishful thinking led to a false alarm late in the afternoon. Called my doc, and she told me to come in. After a brief exam, however, she said I might as well go home and come back tomorrow at 6:30 a.m. to be induced as planned. She said Allison wants her own birthday. But her mercy of not coming during a tornado will definitely be part of her birth story.

The Final Stretch...

It's hard to believe, but I only have one more week until I'm officially 9 months pregnant. In theory, I could be having a kid this time next month (and wondering whether she'll be a Leap Baby). All in all, it's been remarkably easy - I've had no morning sickness, no stretch marks, and a healthy appetite (as evidenced by the photo shown here, taken this morning. Never knew I could miss my chin so much). So I've had nothing to complain about, though I have been a bit frustrated these past few weeks at how tired I am all the time. It forces me to relax rather than be in my constant state of go-go-go. That and the fact that all of my joints are turning to Jell-O in preparation for labor. If anyone needs a good laugh watch an 8-month pregnant woman try to hold a fork or glass of water (just be wary of the consequences once she gets her strength back in a few months).

But we're all ready to go. My mom came down a few weeks ago and helped us do the nursery, and we were thrown two awesome showers, thanks to my mom, sister Cathy, Aunt Judy, sister-in-law Stacy, mother-in-law Carolyn, and family friend Pat! We've got a pediatrician, day care, and have taken a couple baby classes. Now, we're just getting ourselves educated on how the heck to take care of a baby. I'm reading the book The Happiest Baby on the Block right now, which emphasizes the importance of swaddling. David's Wallace doll has been kind enough to let us practice on him (although I can't say he's thrilled about it).

We're also prepping the pets for the big change. Jonas is no longer allowed in the backseat of the car, for fear he'll smother the kid in his zeal to stick his head out the window. We've installed a system of bars that confines him to the far back. He's been a bit whiny about it so far, even though we set him up with a blanket and some toys to make it feel more homey. Meanwhile, the cats have to be taught not to sleep on the changing pad or in the crib. We came home one night to find Mazzy curled up contentedly on the changing pad on the dresser, as if to say, "Thank you, how considerate of you to put this cozy bed on the dresser for me to sleep upon." Then there's the whole concern about cats stealing a baby's breath while in the crib (or, you know, simply sitting on her face while she's sleeping). So we're using a trick David read about in one of his expectant father books - cover the pad and mattress with tin foil. Tip: don't just put a sheet of foil in the middle of the crib or pad. Cover the whole thing with tin foil. I peaked in the crib yesterday to see Mazzy sleeping in a corner that hadn't been covered.

We're pretty excited, though already missing the idea of sleep. Allison's been kicking around pretty actively lately, and is getting ready for the big day herself by facing head down (thanks, Sweetie). I take her swimming once a week at a prenatal water aerobics class, which is more difficult than I thought it would be but is great for keeping me in shape. Can't say I'm fond of fraternizing with all the other expectant moms, which the class advertises as being one of the perks. While David and I are mostly concerned with how to make our kid smart - shielding her from the mind-numbing effects of TV for as long as possible, reading to her daily, and seeking out a Mandarin-speaking tutor, most of the women in my class are more concerned about finding cute curtains or the right shade of green paint for their nursery. One woman almost strangled her husband after realizing he'd chosen a yellowish green instead of the sage green she'd always dreamed would adorn her child's walls. Don't worry - she broke down in tears and got the paint she wanted.