I'm not ashamed of having infertility-just pissed

This is a test!

2011-03-14T15:55:00.003-04:00

I set up a new blog, but I'm not sure it was done correctly, as my mind has been reduced to mush, thanks to knee surgery {FINALLY}!, SB's BS {funny how it's the same 2 letters needed!}, my psycho stalking neighbor {FUN TIMES!} and other fun Dee and Boxer tidbits.

I'm putting the address out there to see if it has worked. Nobody should be able to view the actual post as it is supposed to be password protected. If it's visible, please let me know so I can try again! If it's not, also let me know, so I can send the password out to all of you who have emailed me {and btw..I have read each and every email/comment left to me, and you guys have pretty much restored my faith in humanity. Thanks so much for caring about Boxer and I, and also feeling comfortable enough to share your personal stories with me!}

https://deeboxer.wordpress.com/

Here's to hoping my dumb ass was able to set this up correctly!

What to do! What to do?!!!

2011-01-18T17:02:00.003-05:00

I must say that I am touched beyond words that I have received such a response to my blog going private. Not only did I have no idea that anybody still followed my blog, but the emails I have received, as well as the comments, show that I have a loving and dedicated kinship with so many people all over the world! I have received more emails than I can count, and I have been reading through them whenever I have a free moment to do so. I am overwhelmed and humbled that so many of you care about me, and Boxer, and Angel, and I feel so honored that several of you have shared your own stories with me, and given me the most wonderful reasons as to why you feel a connection with myself and my children.

Now the question is...what to do! Blogger only allows me to have 100 followers if I turn my blog private. I have received hundreds of requests. To sit here and try to pick and choose whom to allow into my blog is extremely difficult, as many of the emails and responses I have received have not only brought tears to my eyes, but a warmth to my heart that I haven't felt in a very long time. I'm currently researching other sites to blog on, in an attempt to let each and every one of you to share the next chapter of mine & Boxer's life; however, my attempts are leading me to dead ends.

So, as the title of this post says...WHAT TO DO!??

I promise to keep you updated. And yes, I am still reading the emails I have received. What a honor to be cared for by so many!

In other news, next week is Boxer and Angel's 2nd birthday. I cannot believe it has been 2 years since I gave birth to my miracles. It feels like just yesterday. Boxer is doing fantastic, and I know that the spirit of Angel is helping her...and I...to thrive as best as we can. I love my daughter more than anything in this world, and miss my son more than words can express. Just thought I'd let everyone know that the little girl who was given "less than 1% chance" to live is about to turn 2 years old, and is the most beautiful, intelligent, wonderful being I have ever had the pleasure of loving.

I'll be back as soon as I can figure out what to do with the blog..and if anyone has any suggestions...they would be greatly appreciated!

Going Private

2011-01-10T15:41:00.003-05:00

As you can tell by my last post, things are changing big time over here. If this were a book I was writing, the first novel would be complete and I'd be starting on the sequel. Due to the change of events AND the fact that the Chinese spam people are still leaving comments on my blog {which has forced me to stop putting up pics of Boxer} I'm thinking that going private would be the best thing to do. I'm not sure how many readers will be able to access it...but I do know you would have to email me and give me your name so I can add you to the "accepted" list, or something like that. So for those of you who would like to continue reading up on me, please email me at Dee_n_Boxer@yahoo.com . Let me know who you are too!!!

And I'd also like to give a heartfelt thank you to EVERYONE who has followed my story. The love and support I have received from so many people has overwhelmed me from day one. You guys truly helped me through some of the toughest times in my life, as well as the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me {Boxer!}. The kindness of strangers is NOT dead; all of you are living proof of that!!!! So, from the bottom of my heart & soul, THANK YOU.

Never.trust.anyone.

2011-01-07T18:01:00.004-05:00

Did you ever give a nickname to someone and then years later find out that the joke of a nickname is actually what the person really is?

Neither did I. Until recently.

I have been a bad blogger and I know this. There are many reasons as to why. But the main reason had to do with the THING I nicknamed "SB" in my blog. His nickname falls VERY short in describing exactly who and what he is.

When did his actual whoring around begin? The month we were married

How often did he do it? More times than can be counted.

Did he do it whilst TTC with me? He sure did.

On the same DAYS? Yea, that too.

How did he celebrate the first pregnancy {that was ectopic}? You guessed it!

How did he celebrate the second one {that was triploidy}? Correct again!

How did he "cope" with me doing IVF? Oh, MANY MANY MANY ways!

How did he celebrate the news that the IVF worked? Whores all around!!

What did he do when my water broke and I was in the hospital? YUP, 'cause that's what GOOD men do!

What did he do a mere 5 days before I gave birth to the twins? DING DING DING!

How did he mourn Angel's death? Well, I have heard that sluts can be very comforting.

How did he celebrate Boxer's homecoming, and Christening, etc etc? Gee, let me count the LAYS

How did he enjoy being a father? Enough to double the pace of his whoring around!

What did he do the day after the beam fell on my head, and I sat in my house with a concussion with his mother helping me take care of Boxer? He was lending his "beam" out.

Where did all of our money go? Well, I failed math in school, but even an asshat can figure this one out.

When did he confess? Well, pathological liars who have narcissistic qualities and display signs of being a sociopath don't CONFESS. They get CAUGHT.

Did he do anything else that was horrible? Hell yea. But I won't give away all the fabulous details.

When did I find out? On Boxer and Angel's 17th month birthday.

Did I attempt to give him a chance to redeem himself? For the sake of Boxer, I did.

Did he redeem himself? Did he show remorse? Did he try his hardest to right the wrong? Did he do anything at all to try and make it up to you and Boxer? No, No, No, and a big fat NO

Shall I remain with him? I may be crazy. But I'm not insane.

Am I much more hurt than this blog post is revealing? You bet your ass.

What is next? A new chapter in mine & Boxer's life. Just her and I against the world.

Will I continue to blog here about Boxer? I would love to, if I haven't lost all my readers yet.

Do I now have another blog I shall be starting up? Yes, as soon as things calm down and I have more time.

Have you ever heard of a chic who has had to endure so much insanity in so short of a time? I'm sure you have, but I have not. And I'm hoping that this is the end of all the fucking insanity.

Cheers to the next chapter

Til next time.

Fried the laptop, not a fan!

2010-12-17T13:35:00.002-05:00

I know I am way behind in posting on this blog, and it's been due to many problems going on in my personal life. Nothing to do with Boxer per se {she's a pain the ass but doing fantastic}! just other crappy things that have been done to me by people whom I had trusted. I have been let down in a way you cannot imagine, and betrayal is too kind of a word to describe the situation. Let's just say that sometimes you give someone a nickname as a joke, and the nickname is actually the reality. I'll delve more into this at a later time.

Right now I just had to fire up the old desktop to lament about what I did to my laptop. I spilled an entire cup of hot cocoa onto it, thus frying the laptop and damaging the hard drive. The bad part {aside from not having a lap top anymore} is that every single photo and video taken of Boxer was on the laptop from May 2009 - present. EVERY.SINGLE.ONE. Of course, I have had to hear "don't you back up?" about 100x a day, which propels me back to when "Sex & the City" was still on the air, and Ms Carrie's laptop died, thus causing her to lose everything she had written, and all of her friends kept saying "Don't you back up"??? Ugh. Sad thing is, last time I backed up was May 2009. And even then I didn't back up the videos. What makes this situation even more shitty, is that many pics of Angelo were on there that are NOT on this desktop, as well as my pregnancy pics taken in the hospital {I had transferred them from another source and had them on the laptop}. What a Christmas delight this is. I had to take the hard drive to a specialty store which wants to charge me a sum of money that I do not have to try and salvage something they do not think can be salvaged. So for now, I'm clinging to the small ray of hope that the files can be restored, and that someone will buy me a winning lotto ticket so I can pay to get them back. Until then, I only have the pics I put up on facebook or photobucket to hold on to, and there weren't many of those. Plus no videos. I could kick myself in the head, and I vow never to drink hot cocoa again. My fat ass doesn't need it anyway.

Just needed to vent. Boxer is running amuck right now as I sit at the desk, and is currently climbing onto the night tables, which will more than likely result in a big ol' bruise if I don't stop her now. I have a blog entry I've been working on that I will be posting soon with all sorts of cool updates on my little Boxer girl, who is my miracle on Earth...

Be back soon!

We're still here....

2010-10-19T18:46:00.004-04:00

Just thought I would pop on and let people know that we are still here, and no, I have not abandoned the blog!! The past few months have been insane; therefore, I have the following list of things for you to ponder until I get a moment to update about the actual important things, like Boxer!

1) Sometimes in life, you think the road you are walking down is sunny and clear; straight and narrow. You can feel the warmth, you can smell the security, you can embrace the future that is laid out so beautifully ahead of you. And then, a curve in the road pops up out of the nowhere, and you find yourself standing on a foggy, damp, dark, cold, and lonely road.

2) The ones that are supposed to love you the most are usually the ones that hurt you the worst.

3) Sometimes you think you know everything there is to know about a person; and suddenly, you peek into their closet and see a fucking graveyard full of bones.

4) Tornadoes DO actually happen in NYC. If the weatherman is urging Queens residents to seek shelter in a basement, a daughter should not laugh at her mother's paranoia and then hang up on them.

5) Cats that have never step foot outdoors CAN become infested with fleas. And flea infestations are enough to make a sane person want to stick their head in an oven.

6) Crockpots are fucking awesome and everyone should get one!

7) Chinese porn spammers are the devil and are just as hard to eradicate as fleas.

7) Babies that were given no chance at life can become amazing, beautiful, smart and energetic children.

I promise to come back shortly and give an update on the happenings of Ms Boxer and her crazy Mama..

Til next time.

Hot town, Boxer in the city...

2010-08-20T13:18:00.003-04:00

Ok, she's not actually in the City anymore, at least not in MY eyes. But according to fellow Long Island residents, we are still a part of the NYC Metro area....

It's been a hot, humid & sultry summer here on the East Coast. Perfect for Boxer's first real "outings" and such {see sarcasm dripping off your screen just like the moisture that drips off my forehead the second I open my door}. It's funny how I didn't mind the summer heat & humidity when I was a kid, and now I LOATHE it. Not as much as I loathe freezing cold winter days, but its up there. I must say that I handled living in Las Vegas, even in the summer months, better than dealing with a humid, sticky summer like this. Yea, it was hot, but I had central AC, and there was no humidity, and everybody had a pool, and OH YEA I wasn't trying to hold onto a fidgety child who cannot sit or stand still for 2 seconds.

Or perhaps I am now too fat to handle the heat? Judging by my enormous waistband.....

Back to more interesting stuff, like Boxer's progress. She has been doing fabulous! Last week she had her 6 month review with the Early intervention people and they commented on how far she has come and how well she is doing for a micro-preemie. However, she is still behind, so her services shall continue. She gets physical therapy 2x a week, occupational therapy 2x a week, and now she will have speech 2x a week as well {was only once a week, but they have upped it due to her falling backwards in the expressive speech department}. I love the EI people, I feel like they have done SO much for her, and they have certainly trained me on how to work on her problems.

{Ok, it's now about 2 weeks later and I'm just getting a moment to come on here to continue my post....}

Boxer continues to both kick ass and BE a pain in the ass! She is all over the place; this child does not know how to sit still at.all. Certainly reminds me of when she was still in my tummy. Her activity level was always off the charts, and it has carried over into what are now considered her "toddler" year{s}. Hobbling after her on this decrepit knee has been most challenging, and there are days when I want to scream in a corner and then rock back & forth until I fall asleep. {Most stay-at-home moms will tell you that there are days like this....and if they deny it, they're lying!}. Boxer is a huge fan of the pool and shows no fear of the water. It pisses me off that I'm afraid to take her to pool in my complex by myself because of my 175 year-old knee; however, when SB has off we either go together, or out to my in-laws. No doubting that she is a water baby! She has warmed up a bit to the beach as well, not as scared of the sand as she used to be, but still doesn't want much part of it, and she has no interest in the ocean whatsoever. Can't say that I blame her much as the waters of Long Island are quite murky..never know what the hell is gonna wash up on shore...{I can hear fellow Long Island residents cursing me for that last statement}...

{Speaking of residents, my next-door neighbor is an evil, bitter, nasty douche-nozzle. Living next to her is like a form of medieval torture. Just had to throw that on in there...}

Other than that, I have been missing my little boy an awful lot lately. For some reason, boy/girl twins, and just twins in general, have been all around me no matter where I go. I can't help but stare at them as they play together, and then look back at Boxer by herself. I sometimes envision what he would have looked like, and how they would have interacted together. I always felt as if Angel would have been the calmer of the 2; even before my water broke, he was always just chilling out, while Ms Boxer was doing an aerobic workout. So I sometimes see Boxer bossing him around {silently of course, since she's yet to really speak} and see him hugging and kissing her in return. Ms Boxer looks just like me, but with very blue eyes {my eyes are pretty much black}; I believe Mr Angel would have looked just like SB, but with very black eyes {SB's eyes are blue}. I feel so much remorse and sorrow in my heart when I look at Ms Boxer playing by herself at the park, or anywhere for that matter, knowing that she should have her brother by her side. She is so full of energy and spunk, ADORES other children, and runs up to anybody she sees that is under 4 feet. It's almost as if she knows there should be another "little person" next to her. I also wonder where my Angel is now; can he hear me talking to him? Does he watch over his sister as she sleeps? Does he gaze down upon us as we play in the park, and smile & giggle because he's enjoying watching us? I want to drive back to Queens so that Boxer can visit her brother's resting place, even though his name is STILL not etched in stone. {this is something that really bothers me, as I feel that there should be some sort of "proof" that he did, indeed, exist. Instead, he lies nameless in my grandmother's grave, and as time passes on, less & less people care that I can't afford to put his name where is truly belongs...} The pain of losing a child never leaves. The pain of raising a "twinless twin" is difficult to put into words. Hearing statements such as "At least you have one" hurts. Having people say "Why can't you just be happy that she is here, & healthy" hits below the belt, for I am more than happy that Boxer is in my life; however, this doesn't negate the feeling of depression or pain that I carry with me because my son is NOT here. Due to comments such as these, I keep my thoughts about Angel mostly to myself, and this is quite a huge pill to swallow without having even one person to hand you a glass of water to help it go down more smoothly. Letting some of it out on here helps me though. So thanks for listening.

I feel the need to move away from this subject, as I am softly crying while writing this, and do not want to have dark, sorrowful, tear-stained eyes when Ms Boxer awakes {YES! you read that correctly! Ms Boxer girl is actually giving me a nap! I believe she is extra fussy & tired lately due to teeth coming in. She is way overdue in the teeth department as she still only has 4 teeth, and is technically 18 months old...}

As for the new place, it is bigger than the shack {not by much but hey, it IS bigger}; however, it continues to be "The Money Pit". I guarantee that the people who "fixed" this place up to sell it literally glued it together. And not with a good strong glue; more like the tub of Elmer's glue that you used when you were in pre-school; the one that came with a small orange stick to scoop it up with..and most of the time it went promptly into your mouth. Also, having air-conditioners leaking under wood floors creates quite a disaster, and my living room is now equipped with at least 3 or 4 "speed-bumps"; skateboarders would LOVE to use it as a ramp for doing tricks--that is, if it were a bit more roomy. The termite problems continues on, and there is always a strange smell of mold in the kitchen, even though I clean it 1000x a day. The windows, suck, they let in all the hot air, and once it gets cold, they will let in all the cold air. Our bath tub was put together by Stevie Wonder back in 1968, and the house is "sinking". This is just the tip of the iceberg. If I were to get into all the woes of this house, I would have write a separate blog entry. And yes, the people of Long Island still suck as bad as the smell of a homeless man living on Las Vegas Boulevard in the middle of an August heat wave.

Now, I really, really, REALLY want to put up an updated pic of Ms Boxer. She has grown up to be one of the most stunning little girls I have ever laid eyes upon {ok, I'm a bit biased, but she really is pretty!}. However, the spam blogs continue to plague me, and this makes me nervous. I just deleted about 14 comments posted by them, all of which lead to disgusting vile pictures that almost made me vomit {strange fetish crap}. I do not want ANYBODY who "owns" these blogs, or frequents these blogs, looking at pics of my miracle girl. So I will have to hold off, and possibly close this blog altogether. But no worries; if I do I shall start up another one and make sure all of you are able to find it!

Til next time.

Random babbling from a crappy blogger...

2010-07-28T20:42:00.003-04:00

There has been so much going on, and I have completely neglected my blog. I decided to hop on here and jot down some random thoughts that have been going through my brain for the past month or so, with a quick update on Boxer.

1) Sometimes, when you have landed at the bottom of the barrel, and are gagging on the crumbs of insanity that cover the very bottom, you realize that there is still another little hole that you are able to fall down; suddenly, you are underneath the bottom of the barrel....

2) Being the "better person" normally sucks, and it sucks even worse when you have old wounds opened up, and the other person involved decides to throw salt, pepper, and lye directly into the wounds that THEY created, even though you were being cordial to a person who doesn't deserve the dirt from the bottom of your oldest shoe.

3) Chinese porn spam blogs need stay the hell off my blog; in fact, they need to be eradicated completely from blogger. After reporting these blogs numerous times, the losers that "own" the blogs have now made them "private", so I am no longer able to report them. Hey blogger; get a better system for us to utilize whilst being harassed by spam blogs that shouldn't exist in the first place. Obviously your method doesn't work.

4) Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the water, you come to realize that it's more tainted now than it ever was before. Calm seas can turn quite stormy in the blink of an eye. I am using this as a metaphor; interpret it whichever way suits you best.

5) Neighbors with a chip on their shoulder, a nasty attitude, no life, and their finger permanently pressed on the speed-dial button that connects them to an office in which they make false and anonymous complaints should be spayed immediately.

6) Jackhammers, weed-whackers, chain-saws, lawnmowers, drills, concrete trucks, and all the loud, screaming men operating any of the above should be banned from people's homes until AFTER 7am. Also, advance-notice to a co-op owner should be given when the development decides that breaking up a concrete stoop is a good thing to do on a 95 degree day. Some of us have babies, and ALL of us have ears. Houses shaking like Shakira, and concrete dust flying through windows is not appreciated.

7) Did I mention how the Chinese porn blogs should be eradicated completely, and the owners of said blogs should have thumbtacks jabbed into their fingers for leaving trash and filth comments on a blog that is about a baby?

8) Somebody should invent contact lenses for bats, so they can stop flying into my head at night when I sit on my deck; that same person should do something about blood-thirsty mosquitoes that appear to love my sickly, anemic blood.

9) Injured knees that hurt 24/7, and knee injections that don't do shit, are not a necessary part of life for anyone.

10) Humid summers in NYC are the absolute worst. Walking out my door and being drenched in sweat within 2 seconds while holding a slippery baby and having my knee blow up to the size of Mt Vesuvius are craptastic. The smell of hot & musty mold, mildew, and people who refuse to wear fucking deodorant are things that could cause a person to become an alcoholic. However, heaps of garbage fermenting in said heat & humidity are fabulous ways to lose weight, since the smell makes you vomit on a daily basis. I have lost 8 pounds in 30 days, and Jenny Craig had NOTHING to do with it. Plus, it was FREE!

As for life with Boxer, things are fantastic. She is doing absolutely wonderful, and is a HUGE pain in the ass, which is exactly what I want her to be, because it shows how healthy and happy she is! Even on the days when I crave an IV drip of Thorazine due to non-stop chaos, I always reflect on how she was given "less than 1% chance" to survive, and it makes everything better. Although I'm sure the Thorazine would help too....

I promise to give a detailed update on Ms Boxer girl, along with a new pic, as soon as possible!

Til next time.

I know what happened to the good ol' days..

2010-06-06T15:21:00.005-04:00

They got knocked right the hell out of my head.

**WARNING: This blog entry is coming at ya from a chic with a severe head wound. Inane rambling, bad grammar, and scattered insignificant thoughts may be rampant. In other words, this entry may be just like prior ones. Proceed with caution**

My last entry was all about nostalgia, and the demise of community and family, etc. So, I carried on as best as I could, dressing Boxer up in 70s inspired gear, bestowing even more of my of my old toys on her, and actually going on a play-date with a girl who reads this blog {and is also on FF}. I must say that I enjoyed the play-date immensely, as did Boxer, since the little boy there was enchanted by her charm and beauty {and he was a cutie himself}. Watching her interact with the little boy {who held her hand and gave her kisses and made my heart melt as he would sit his cup right next to her bottle and then put his arm around her. Too sweet! Although I know it will not be so sweet in..let's say...12 years, when she is a teenager}! Boxer was also very nice to the beautiful little baby girl there, and had a fabulous time. My FF connection also proved to me that not ALL people on Long Island suck. However, her hubby thought I was a wack-a-doodle. I couldn't really argue that point though.

That weekend, my in-laws asked us to drive out to their house for Memorial Day. I was instantly happy with the thought of dressing little Boxer up in her sailor dress and allowing her to wave a flag as we watched a parade and then traveled down to the beach. They even got her some water shoes so that her toes didn't have to touch the sand {Boxer LOATHES sand with a seething passion}. All seemed well on the drive out there, and Ms Boxer was very happy to get out of her 70s clothes and, instead, be dressed like a child of the 1940s {picture a little sailor dress with the matching bloomers and a big ol' bow in her hair}. We got there, gave Boxer her lunch, and decided to sit outside on the wicker swing to take a family picture. I sat down first. Please note: I thought the swing looked a bit unsteady. But I shook it off and told myself that I cannot continue to be paranoid about about every single thing that appears "off", and to keep my panic attacks in check.

Uh, in this case, I should have fucking panicked and went screaming into the water.

SB came over. He sat down.

Next thing I know, I'm lying in an emergency room, covered in blood, totally confused, and having a doctor discuss cat scans with me as he picked up a gun and proceeded to STAPLE MY FUCKING HEAD.

What.the.fuck?

Appears that when SB sat down on the swing, it collapsed. Now, let me explain this swing. It is an adult wicker swing that was hanging from a 6x4, 75 pound piece of wood in between two tall trees. The piece of wood was about 4 feet above us. When SB sat down, the swing broke, and that 75 pound piece of wood fell directly on my head. I don't remember any of this, but according to eye-witness reports {SB, mother-in-law, father-in-law} I was crumpled on the ground with the wood on my head and just kept repeating "ow. My head hurts". This is when the blood began to pour out of me like a friekan geyser. It seems my mother-in-law threw sugar on my head to try and contain the bleeding {and apparently, that didn't feel too good, as I began to cry and scream about burning and pain} and off to the ER we went. SB informed me that on the way to the ER, I kept asking "where is the baby? Is she ok?" He said I must have asked this 100x. I also thought I was in Queens, and kept begging the ambulance driver {who was, in fact, my father-in-law, as we were not in an ambulance, but in his car} to NOT take me to the same hospital in which I gave birth. I guess even in a state of partial consciousness I knew better than to go back to that piece of shit establishment. SB also said that several ridiculous things came out of my head, in between the constant question "Where is the baby? Is she ok?"

After cat-scans and tests and having the doctor treat my head as if it were a stack of papers that needed to be stapled together for a school report, I was told I had a moderate concussion. Oh, joy. the ER doc said I could not be allowed to sleep for more than 2 hours at a time, and a host of other crap that frankly...I don't remember. What I do remember is smelling like I had bathed in a slaughterhouse that happened to be in a sugar factory, feeling dizzy, confused, nauseous, scared...and, oh yea...IN PAIN.

We stayed the night at the in-laws. I never went to sleep because I was too afraid that I would close my eyes and slip into a coma. Also, the slaughter-house smell was overwhelming, and my clothes were a bloody and sugary disaster. I put on some of SB's clothes {by a stroke of luck, we had brought some laundry to do!} and pondered WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED. First and foremost, I must say that I am VERY grateful I had not been holding Boxer when this happened. Even though my head would have intervened with the huge plank of wood, I may have dropped her on impact or something. So that's the ONE good thing about this. Other than that, THERE IS NOTHING GOOD ABOUT THIS. The LAST thing I needed was another fucking injury. As the night wore on, I felt worse & worse, as did my knee, which must have been crumpled under me. What's a good thing for an already-battered knee with an old fracture and no cartilage? How about ANOTHER INJURY? Oh yea, my luck has never been BETTER!! I wonder when the locusts are coming....

The next day, we packed up and went on home, as I still sat dazed, confused, and glazed for a Hawaiian bar-b-q {nothing like some sugary meat on the fire-pit!}. My hair had already began to form dreadlocks, and I kept forgetting what the hell I was doing and saying. And oh yea. THE PAIN. Let me tell ya...Tylenol does ABSOLUTELY NOTHING for a head that has been split-open, a concussion, and a knee that has gotten more beatings than most of the characters in the movie "Goodfellas". I was told NOT to wash my hair, which was killing me, since it was a matted mess. I also wanted to do nothing more than sit and stare at walls in a dark room, since any type of light bothered me. Poor Boxer couldn't understand why Mommy was unable to pick her up. God that sucked.

As the days went on, I did NOT feel any better. As a matter of fact, I still feel like shit. The ER doctors must have gotten their license from the dude in "Catch me if you can", since they told me the concussion symptoms would go away in 3-7 days. Upon examination by other doctors, I was told these symptoms can last weeks, and sometimes even MONTHS. Yes, MONTHS. Symptoms are as follows: confusion, irritability {as if I needed more of that!} dizziness, fainting, nausea, vision problems, sensitivity to light, short-term memory loss, depression, vertigo, headaches, and difficulty concentrating. Well color me happy. All of the above are FANTASTIC symptoms to have while caring for a baby all alone for 14-17 hours a day. Yee-haw. Feel free to enter my head, Mr Panic attack, and stay for a bit....

My mother-in-law stayed with me for 2 days, and then my parents came out for a day. SB had to call in sick to work for one day, and after that, I was on my own. I have some advice for those of you out there who are planning on having a huge-ass piece of wood fall on your noggin. Caring for a toddler when you have a concussion and a knee injury is damn near impossible, and scary as shit. I do NOT recommend it. My advice to you is that you stay far away from peaceful looking wicker swings that are being held up by a big ol' piece of wood. Sit on the plastic lawn chair instead.

The following Monday I went to a doctor to get my staples taken out. Please note: having staples ripped out of your head does, in fact, HURT. Not as much as they hurt going in, but it's not painless. It felt like someone was sticking matches to my scalp. An hour after I had the staples removed, I went to the ortho doctor for my first knee injection. Please note: having a huge-ass needle filled with a thick substance that is supposed to act like cartilage hurts. Almost as much as the injured knee hurts. And then it hurts some more, as massive swelling, bruising, and an over-all feeling of weirdness follows said injection. Sadly, it has not helped at all. The nurse told me that some patients feel immediate relief, while others take longer, sometimes not feeling any relief at all until the 5th and last injection. I'm pretty sure we know which patient I'm going to be.

As for other news, Ms Boxer girl has been growing in leaps and bounds, and is progressing fabulously. The only area in which we are still lagging WAY behind is speech. She wants to talk. She TRIES to talk. She.just.cannot. The state has approved another weekly session for her, so I'm hoping the added hour a week with the speech guy will help us out. She has mastered some sign language, and now knows how to say "give me" and "more". It's very cute. I will have to brag once again about the intelligence level on my Boxer. She is freikan SMART. You only have to tell her the name of an object ONCE and she REMEMBERS. I tested this the other day, when my mother brought her a new baby doll. We put it in my old hand-me-down shopping cart {remember the ones from the 70s that were orange and yellow and filled with a bunch of tacky colored things that tried to resemble groceries? Yea, that one. My mother had kept it all these years. And it has a place in the front of the cart to put a doll, just like Mommy would put the baby in}. My mother kept saying "Grandma brought you that doll" to Boxer. So later on in the day, I asked her "where is Grandma's doll?" and immediately, she went over to the cart and kissed the doll. Amazing! I didn't mention it to her for at least 2 days and then decided to test her. I asked "Where is Grandma's doll?" fully expecting her to not remember, as I hadn't mentioned it for over 48 hours. But she surprised me. She immediately went over to the shopping cart and kissed the doll. Holy crap! Also, she is able to identify 4 different animals on the cover of one of her books. Her speech therapist claims that the ability to differentiate 4 different objects on one page is on the level of a 2 year old. Not bad for a baby born weighing 2 pounds huh?

Ok, this entry has taken days to write, and probably make no sense, so I shall close with cute pics of Ms Boxer gir her hand-me-down toys. Gotta love the fabulous artwork on her "TV" and the color combo on her shopping cart.. And let me just say..and I kid you not..that TV is her favorite toy. {and my mother informed me that it was actually my sister's before it was mine, so I think it may be from the 1960s}. And it works just fine. Yet half the toys she got for her birthday are already broken. They just don't make toys the way they used to. Or wicker swings. Or anything else for that matter...

Fascinated with "Mommy's toy"

Lovin' her 1970s shopping cart & "Grandma's dolly"

Til next time...

What ever happened to the good ol' days...

2010-05-20T11:43:00.004-04:00

**Before blogging I would love to know how to stop the Chinese porn spam that is constantly being left on my blog. I have the word verification on, and still these Chinese comments that lead to Chinese porn sites continue to spring up. How do I get them off?? Bastards.**

I have an obsession with watching 60's or 70's sitcoms, especially in the middle of the night when I can't sleep {which is often}. As a child of the 70's & 80's, I recall most of these shows from when they aired as re-runs at 5PM during the week. {How else could we explain my complete knowledge of "Bewitched"? Hell, I believe the show was cancelled before I was even born}. I also love to watch shows based on the 60's or 70's, even though my favorite decade of the 20th century was the "Roaring 20's"...

Anyhow, since I have become a mother, I am even more obsessed with these show. Late one night while I was having a huge battle with Boxer {she refused to sleep at all}, I began to reflect on my childhood, and how life used to be. It seems like it was 100 years ago, but it really wasn't. I recalled the huge family gatherings every Sunday for macaroni; the cousins, Aunts & Uncles who were always around; how all the "Grandma's & Grandpa's" were old, cuddly, lovable people who LIVED for their families; my parents friends whom we would go to visit on the weekends, or they would come to us; the large amount of kids that lived on the same block as me; the way those kids and their parents would come on over to our yard in the summer {or we would go to theirs} and the adults would sit and have a drink and a smoke as the kids would play in the pool or on the lawn; the block parties where the neighborhood would shut the street down to traffic and put their picnic tables out for one big party; sitting on the stoop with my friends once the streetlights came on; playing in the street during the day after school; sense of extended family; sense of a close-knit community; and yes, I do remember the god-awful outfits that our parents would dress us up in {Plaid pants with a polka dot shirt anyone?}

I got up to look through some old photos from when I was a child {and boy, does Boxer look EXACTLY like me, except for the eye color!} because I wanted to see if the memories I had from when I was 5 or 6 were a good indication of how life was when I was Boxer's age. It was. I then began to feel a tad bit sorry for Boxer. Because that world doesn't seem to exist anymore. At least, not in NYC. Or Long Island for that matter. It certainly doesn't exist in my life. Poor little Boxer; she never has any visitors! Aunts & Uncles she has never seen; cousins she doesn't know; Grandparents who are always traveling or working or getting manicures or surfing the Internet, etc, etc. A neighborhood in which everybody keeps to themselves; barely any children around during the day; those who are around normally hang out in their house watching TV {yes, even the ones who are as young as Boxer!}. No sense of family or community. Having to pay money to join a "mom group" so you can connect with other stay-at-home mom's and allow your child to have friends their age. Fellow moms who reject you because you do not eat organic goat balls, blah blah blah.

No wonder why Boxer gets so excited every time she hears the theme for "Bewitched". I bet that her & Tabitha could have been best friends, while Samantha & I chit-chatted on the patio. Nobody would have passed judgement on us for choosing to stay at home with our kids. Nobody would have chastised us for disciplining our kids while munching on non-organic goat balls, or being friends with a person who.. **gasps** smokes cigarettes. Shit, I think if that scene were to happen today, people wouldn't bat an eye over the witchcraft, but they would put police tape around the person who visited us smelling like cigarettes {sorry...this irks me..smoking is not illegal..unless you are blowing the smoke directly into my kids face on purpose, I feel no need to treat you like a common criminal}.

{And don't get me started on the pre-teens and teenagers of today. I actually cringe when I see them walking around with their cell phones and Gucci bags while getting pedicures and talking to their mother with zero respect. Ugh. I wasn't an angelic teenager or anything, but damn, I didn't act like that, and I knew how to appreciate the little things in life. My high school years rocked. We actually had to communicate with each other in person, as opposed to facebook or online video games....and if I did talk back to my parents, well....you wouldn't see me for months..}

Anyhow, I was still in grade school when this song came out, and although I liked it, I didn't really connect with the lyrics. Until now. {well, not all the lyrics, but the general meaning behind the song...} Makes me want to go to the old local bar, sit down, have a drink, and talk about those glory days...

Now back to the present...

Since I last wrote there have been great improvements in Boxer's gross motor skills. She has become not just a walking maniac, but a RUNNING maniac. In fact, I believe she completely skipped over the walking, and went directly to running. Of course, she is not experienced enough to be a fast sprinter, but that is all she wants to do. This leads to many falls, cuts & bruises for her, and lots of heart-attacks and Motrin for me, 'cause my knee is having a hard time keeping up with her! She loves to grab things and then run with both her hands up across the room. She looks a lot like ET {when he meets Gertie for the first time, and she screams, and then he runs past her with both hands up in the air. This is Boxer. All day long}. She has also mastered climbing, and is getting into EVERYTHING. I cannot help but sit back and stare at this little person in awe. Last year at this time she was barely 5 pounds and strapped to an apnea monitor. How far she has come!! She continues to kick ass in so many ways! However, we are still REALLY behind in speech. "The Gorn" has continued to be her favorite method of communication, along with "Chewbacca". She becomes very pissed off when she is trying to tell me something because all she can do is point and grunt, and I am not Captain Kirk or Luke Skywalker, so I have no clue what she is trying to tell me. This always results in whining, crying, or tantrums. She completely stopped babbling, rarely even says "mamama" anymore. So I called the early intervention people and asked if we could re-evaluate her and possibly add another day of speech therapy, as this is where we are having the biggest delay. In fact, I think she has regressed, which is always a bad thing. Regardless of her inability to speak, she certainly understands everything. I can no longer count how many words she knows. She is one smart cookie. She also will get something and bring it to me if I ask her to. Fuckin' A.

Our days have gotten longer here, since SB's job decided to change his hours and days. Don't get me started on the Sunday shift. Sunday is supposed to be family day; instead, he leaves on a train at 7:15AM and doesn't get back until almost 10:00PM, and this week, won't be home until 2:00AM {DAMN YOU SB's job, DAMN YOU chic from SB's job who made a fuss over nothing and caused this horrible change, and DAMN YOU Sunday schedule for the train}. My knee is in BAD fucking shape, and I can barely make it through the day. Hell, I was having problems making it up until 6:00PM {if you refer back to my last entry, you'll see why}. So now add in walking, running, climbing, and SB not returning until 10:00PM or 2:00AM. Holy hell is it rough. And it's even worse when it rains. Because I can't even distract her with a trip to the local Starbucks for some interaction.

On the financial front, the hours are a good thing, because we are flat broke. I'm not talking "we have no money for a pedicure" or "we only have $200 in the bank". I'm talking broke. Really broke. I just found out how bad it was when I went to use my credit card for some crap at the drugstore, and my card declined for a $42 purchase. I kept trying to get it to go through, until the cashier said she would have to take away the card if I ran it through one more time. Fucking embarrassing. And fucking annoying. Because I do not go anywhere or do anything, and if I do, it's normally free or fairly cheap. I went through all our bank statements and credit card statements trying to figure out what did this to us, and a big portion of the dent in our cash flow is due to the fabulous change in Insurance coverage from SB's job {yet another thing I would love to thank them for}. Hello Mr. $1,000 deductible for pharmacy. What.the.fuck. Hi, Mr.$7,000 deductible for medical. Again, What.the.fuck. SB had told me there were some changes, but I didn't know it was this bad. $177 for an asthma pump? Thanks a bunch big, huge-ass company that SB works for. You have royally screwed us. I pondered over going back to work part-time, or even full-time, but when I checked the rates for decent day-care, almost all of my salary would go towards that, so what the hell is the point? Sometimes, life kicks you in the ass and just continues to kick you in the ass. Personally, I'm getting tired of it, even though I know it will "make me a stronger person in the end". After all the ass-kickings I have received, I'm already a strong person. If I get any stronger I'll be a goddamn super-hero.

Speaking of ass-kicking, my leg wouldn't be able to kick a pebble right now, that is how bad my knee is. Besides the fractured fibula, recent x-rays have shown that I also have NO cartilage in my knee. The strain of walking on this crap every day, all day, for months on end with no medical intervention, is pretty much breaking me. I'm working with the shitty insurance company right now to get approval for shots to the knee that is an alternative to long, expensive, painful surgery that requires 2 months to recover from and then lengthy and painful Physical Therapy. Not only can we NOT afford it, I do not have anybody to come and help me out while I recover. So that's a no-go. Injections it will have to be.

As of a few days ago, Boxer's sleeping habits have taken a turn for the worse. I'm not too sure what caused this change, but napping no longer exists, and bedtime is a never-ending war. She screams as if Michael Meyers from Halloween is in her crib next to her. As soon as I put her down, she screams. Sometimes she attempts to fall asleep, but as soon as she begins to drift off, she bolts awake, stands up, and screams. I have watched her do this on the video monitor. I have also seen her do this as I hold her sometimes in the rocking chair, trying to calm her down. I have no idea how this child can be as energetic as she is, with barely any sleep at all. Yesterday she went 14 hours without a nap. Not even a power nap. I did everything I could to get her to sleep; it just didn't work. Then at night, it was just as bad. She has no fever, is not tugging at her ears, and I do not see or feel any teeth coming in {we still only have the bottom 2 teeth}. I thought that perhaps she was developing a bit of separation anxiety, as this started the day after I left her with my in-laws during dinner & bedtime {first time she has been put to bed by anybody but me}. However, I'm pretty sure that is not the case as she won't even sleep in my bed or with me on the couch. Tomorrow, SB will be gone for the 7:00AM - 2:00AM shift, and it's going to rain, and it's going to be a long-ass painful day. I've been dreading it for days!

Ah, if only it were still the 1970s. Perhaps Boxer would still be a insomniac, but at least I would have the family over for Sunday dinner. Maybe the macaroni and "yelling" at the table would put her at ease and help her sleep better. Perhaps my knee wouldn't resemble the Garbage Heap from "Fraggle Rock" by mid-afternoon, cause' I would be able to sit for 10 minutes while Boxer socialized. Oh well. I'm thinking tomorrow I will dress her in a flowered shirt with some plaid bell-bottoms and only allow her to play with my hand-me-down toys that my mother gave me {yes, she kept them all these years, and yes, they work better and last longer than ANY of the "new" toys we have gotten for Boxer}. It may make me feel like we're back in the good ol' days, or that we're actually experiencing what Boxer will one day consider her "good ol' days"..even if she's dressed like a dork.

Til next time

A day in the life of a "less than 1% chance to survive" child...

2010-04-25T21:31:00.008-04:00

and her mother with a fractured leg {which has gone untreated, and unRESTED, for half a year now...}

{Remember: This is on a good day. Let's not get into bad mood/teething/I'm going to be just like my mother and bitch all-day-long days. Or, the days when Mommy is having major panic attacks, etc etc}

6:30AM: Rise and shine. Ms Boxer opens her eyes and begins to cry. Mom checks video monitor to make sure all is well before rising on her hurting leg to tend to crying child. Boxer's cries cease as she rolls around crib, making strange noises at various sound levels, and grunts some more as she bashes baby dolls around.

6:45AM: Boxer becomes silent for a bit. Mom closes eyes for a quick cat-nap with her hand ready to reach for the bottle of Motrin.

7:00AM: Boxer begins her fabulous imitation of "The Gorn" from Star Trek. This is the cue for mom to sit up, put on her leg brace, and limp her way over...

7:00AM - 7:30AM. Mom is greeted with a big ol' smile and a bunch of toys being thrown at her from the crib. Mom smiles even though she knows picking up toy shall hurt leg. Boxer cruises around the crib in her sleep sack. She falls several times, which aids in the squashing of the enormous crap that she has in her diaper. Crap leaks onto sack and onto sheet. Mom plucks Boxer from crib, strips her down, and begins the morning wrestling match. Boxer either grabs her poop and smears it on the wall, or literally climbs the wall as mom attempts to clean her up. Mom tries to distract Boxer as she washes her and clothes her. Distraction doesn't work. Boxer has to be put on the floor as the diaper change and dressing war begins. After a tough match, the Boxer is defeated as she is clean and clothed. Boxer goes on a rampage destroying her entire room in 2.5 seconds flat. She attempts to crawl out door. She cruises around the mess she just made, as mom changes the bedding and wraps soiled clothes in a big towel. Boxer continuously cruises over to Mom's leg brace so that she can undo the velcro. Brace slips down to ankle. Mom says no. Boxer throws tantrum. Crying commences. Crying stops. Smiles return. Mom smiles back.

7:30AM - 7:45AM: Mom attempts to carry a wiggly Boxer down the stairs, while balancing the towel filled with crap. Stairs have cracks in them which makes the journey even more treacherous. Brace unsnaps and falls to the bottom of the stairs. Boxer wiggles to follow brace. Crap is beginning to seep out of towel. Cat vomits on the floor. Mom steps in it. Some cat vomit spills into the cracks in the stairs.

7:45AM-8:00AM: Mom sits Boxer in high chair. Boxer screams as she hates the high chair. Mom throws Boxer some cups to play with. Takes brace off. Crap laundry is put in a bin to soak. Cat puke is cleaned. Brace is put back on. Mom prepares breakfast for Boxer.

8:00AM - 9:00AM: The breakfast war begins. Boxer shuns first dish of food that mom has cooked up. Cereal is flung all over the kitchen. Boxer whines. "The Gorn" returns. Boxer points to bottle. Mom gives her the bottle and turns around so she can whip up another type of breakfast. Bottle gets thrown on floor. Mom doesn't cry over spilled milk, but Boxer does. Mom cleans off bottle and returns it to the Boxer. She scrambles an egg. Bottle is back on floor. Cereal is still on floor. Boxer is still not happy. Mom attempts to feed Boxer some eggs. She eats a bit, then tries her hardest to get the bowl in which the eggs are sitting. Whining commences. Anorexic attitude commences. Breakfast battle continues. Bottle gets the shit beat out of it. Eggs fight a losing battle. Cheerios are offered, and promptly thrown on the floor. Mom is defeated. Boxer whines. Mom takes off leg brace and bends on broken knee to clean the mess. Whining continues. Whining now in stereo. Pain shoots through mom's knee. Bottle shoots through the air. Mess is cleaned up. Boxer is cleaned off. Boxer is set free. Smiles and laughs return.

{NOTE: Mondays, Boxer has feeding & speech therapy from 9-10, and then occupational therapy from 10-11. On Tuesday, she has physical therapy from 9-10. Wednesday is social work from 10-11. Thursday is physical therapy from 9-10 & Occupational therapy from 10-11. Friday is clear. Mom is very involved with all therapies; therefore, Motrin is popped to help ease the immense pain in her leg as she scoots around the floor with therapists and Boxer. Breakfast is yet to be consumed by Mom, which is funny, considering Mom continues to be a fat-ass. Due to this variation, we shall pick up at 11:00AM}

11:00AM - 11:15AM: Motrin does a job on mom's empty stomach. Boxer is placed in her play-area which is filled with 7.9 trillion toys. Boxer cannot be bothered with toys or play-area. Whining commences while mom takes care of business.

11:15AM- 11:45AM: Boxer destroys both living room and kitchen. Toys lay askew and pots and pans litter the floor. Cat food and cat water get dumped. Attempt to break into cat-litter area is made. Mom puts a stop to that. Tantrum commences. Mom tries to distract. Distract attempt fails. Mom decides to go get coffee. While grabbing Boxer's coat and shoes, Boxer crawls at warp speed to climb up the steep, slumping, broken, scary steps. Mom chases her and says no. Tantrum commences. Wrestling match# 2 for the day begins. Jacket is put on. Shoes are put on. Boxer tries to walk. She takes a few steps, then falls. Whimpers once or twice, then takes off for cat-litter area again. Mom adjusts leg brace. Mom puts soft brace on other knee which is feeling the brunt of all weight being put on it. Cat-litter theft is averted. Boxer attempts to climb steps again. Mom grabs Boxer, keys, shoes, and limps out the door. Boxer grunts at the sky. She points at some trees. She smiles a bunch. Mom smiles. She names all the things Boxer is pointing to. Smiles turn into laughs. Smiles evaporates as soon as Boxer is strapped into car seat. She hates to be rear facing. Mom sings silly songs to make her laugh. Boxer pulls her shoes off. Mom adjusts baby mirror so Boxer can admire herself. Off to Starbucks they go. Mom puts on radio. Boxer dances in car seat. Mom sings off-key. Shoes are thrown to the side. Parking is found, Mom limps out, puts shoes back on Boxer, picks her up, limps inside, gets on line. Starbucks crew say hello and ooh and ahh over Boxer's outfit and eyes. Boxer eats up the attention. Mom is nice to people on line. People on line ignore her. Mom curses people in her head. Drink is made. Croissant is purchased if available. This will come in handy for the next event: The Lunch war. On a nice day, Boxer and Mom sit outside and watch the cars zoom by. Boxer smiles and points at everything and everyone. Mom tries to get Boxer to talk. Boxer is Happy. On chilly or windy days, Mom walks back to car. Boxer wants to drink coffee. More people comment on her eyes. Boxer steals straw from iced coffee. Mom always has an extra in her hand. Boxer is put back in car seat. Grunting starts. Shoes are taken off. Mirror is adjusted. Music is put on. Dancing commences. Singing commences. Cats howl on the street. They return home

11:45AM - 12:10PM: The diaper change and nap war. Diaper change is a tough one. Morning nap is normally an easy battle. Boxer is tired from all the therapy and Starbucks action. The Boxer takes a nap. Mom hobbles in pain to clean up mess from hurricane Boxer. Bottle is washed, pots & pans returned to cabinet, toys put back in bins. Mom sits for 5 minutes. Takes 2 sips of coffee. Hears a cry from upstairs. Checks video monitor. Boxer is cruising her crib whilst hurling all of her toys out of it. Mom scurries to kitchen to wolf down something to eat. Leg braces are adjusted. Mom wishes Boxer would nap a bit longer. Mom grimaces in pain as she walks back up the steps on her pain-riddled legs.

12:10PM - 12:45PM: The Lunch war begins. Boxer screams in high chair. Mom gives her toys to play with. She dodges flying toys as she prepares lunch. Mom turns on IPOD. Boxer dances a bit. Mom's singing continues to torture neighborhood cats, and her own cat, who is now meowing for food. Mom offers sippy cup to Boxer. She chews on it, bangs it around, then tosses it on floor. Mom tries to feed Boxer yogurt. Boxer loves the first 3 spoonfuls; then hits mom's hand out of the way. Mom offers some mashed sweet potatoes with Butter. Boxer eats this with no problem. Sippy cup is rinsed off & returned to Boxer. She bites on it, takes a sip, makes a face, and hits meowing cat with it. Mom tries to give yogurt again. Yogurt shunned. Mom eats yogurt. Offers some bread. Boxer chews on it while Mom cleans up mess. Sippy cup slinging continues. Whining starts again. "The Gorn" returns for an afternoon appearance. Mom dances in pain for Boxer. Smiles erupt. Laughter erupts. Boxer happy. Mom is happy. Lunch war is easy. Battle over. Boxer is cleaned and released from high chair. Mom reaches for more Motrin.

12:45 PM - 3:00PM: Boxer re-destroys entire living room and kitchen again. Many cat-litter attempts are made and thwarted. Boxer unable to dump cat food & water around, as it is now on the kitchen table. This reminds Mom as to why cat is in a meowing frenzy. Mom gives the cat some grub, then sits on floor with Boxer. Books are read, Games are played, smiles and laughter fill the room. Mom hides pain from Boxer as the Boxer loves to climb all over mom. Braces are off again due to Boxer's obsession with velcro. Mom gives Boxer some vitamins and a small bottle of milk, as sippy cup is still shunned. Boxer drinks some, spills most, and cat has a drink or 2. Sippy cup returned to table, eager to be loved by The Boxer. Sippy fights a losing battle. Walking is attempted. Crawling is once again at warped speed. Mom encourages talking, but only received grunts, whines, and "The Gorn". Boxer becomes restless. Climbs up stairs with mom behind her. Mom screams in head from pain coursing through knees. Boxer reaches top of stairs, crawls into room, grabs Pooh Bear. Repeat 3x. When the weather is nice, mom straps braces back on legs, and takes Boxer out. Sometimes they go to the park, Sometimes they walk around the complex, sometimes they sit outside and look at the birds, sometimes they go down to the beach. Boxer enjoys. Mom enjoys and smiles through the pain. More Motrin is popped. On bad weather days, morning activities are usually repeated, and house can be declared a disaster area. Somewhere in the middle of all the chaos, mom cleans up termite wings and kills many ants. Boxer eats a stray piece of cat food. Cat is pissed. Swatting commences. Tantrums ensue. Mom is ready for a break

3:00PM - 3:30PM: The diaper change and afternoon nap war begins. Mom puts Boxer in crib. Scoots down steps as quickly as possible. Boxer is not happy. Screaming starts. Cries erupt. Wailing begins. Toys and blankets thrown from crib. Cruising and crying not a good mix for the Boxer, and she falls and hits head many times. Mom goes up and down stairs to make sure Boxer is ok. She wants to stay upstairs until sleep takes over the Boxer, but cannot, because Boxer will know she is there, and will cry even harder. Finally the Boxer lays down. Thumb-sucking commences. Mom watches Boxer on video monitor. Boxer stares at ceiling. Eyelids get heavy. The Boxer loses the war and drifts off to sleep

3:30PM - 4:00PM: Mom curses leg brace. Mom curses leg pain. Mom takes more Motrin. Cleans up the house. Cleans the bathroom. Washes dishes. Does some laundry. Etc Etc. Depends on the day. Mom sits for about 5 minutes. Drinks some water. Pets the cat. LOUD cries emerge from the video monitor. The Boxer is awake.

4:00PM - 5:30PM: Mom puts Boxer in her walker. Gives her some puffs. Boxer gobbles it up. Mom preps sippy cup with milk. Sippy cup is still mending it's wounded heart from earlier. Sippy cups heart is once again broken, as Boxer shuns the cup. Mom gives Boxer a bottle. She drinks some, spills most. Cat is having another milk treat. Mom turns on the TV. Boxer loves "Bewitched". Mom takes this opportunity to start prepping dinner. Leg braces are strapped back on. More Motrin is popped. Mom gets some shit started in kitchen. Boxer is amused by TV for about 15 minutes. Mom does as much as she can before crying commences. Boxer released from walker and put in play-area. Boxer actually plays with toys for about 10 minutes. Mom continues to cook dinner whilst in enormous pain. Knee is very swollen. 10 minutes is up. Crying ensues. Mom releases Boxer. Living room and kitchen once again destroyed. Cat litter is coveted; stair-climbing is coveted; mom stares at clock, waiting for SB to get home. Mom encourages Boxer to walk and talk. Walking is going good, but not the talking. Grunts are made. Smiles are had. Mom kisses and hugs Boxer. Boxer protests. Mom begs for hugs and kisses. Boxer gives her a ball instead. Playing continues. Braces pulled off again. Dinner is burning. Leg is burning. Boxer takes a dump. More diaper changing war.....

6:00PM. SB comes home. Boxer grunts in approval. Mom is happy to have some help. SB carries Boxer around the house while mom salvages dinner. SB gives Boxer back to mom. He takes a crap.

6:30PM -7:00PM The Dinner war begins. Mom serves SB dinner. Shovels some out for herself. Winces in constant pain. Knee now swelled to the size of a watermelon. Mom pushes through pain. Mom convinces SB to fight the dinner war with Boxer. SB usually loses. Floor completely covered in food/juice/puffs/cat food.

7:00PM - 7:30PM: SB sits in play-area with Boxer and cleans toys as he entertains her for a bit. Mom pops more Motrin. She cleans up kitchen. Washes dishes, cleans floor, cleans stove, cleans countertops, cleans high-chair. Well shit, mom just cleans everything up. Knee now the size of Mt. Everest. Pain is immense. Mom wants to croak.

7:30PM: The bath war begins. Boxer used to love baths. Until she learned how to stand. Since bath tub in "new" home is falling apart, Boxer is still given baths in her baby tub on the dilapidated kitchen table. Attempts have been made at bathing her in the sink. Attempts failed. Bath begins. Water is splashed on peeling, chipped, cheap-ass table. Soap is flung. Soap bottle is beaten. Shampoo is flung. Shampoo bottle is beaten. Rubber ducky is chewed to death. SB & mom are drenched. Table is falling apart. Boxer drinks bath water.

7:45PM: The diaper and grooming war begins. SB carries Boxer up the stairs to her room. Mom limps behind. SB fights the diaper battle. He wins. SB brushes Boxer's teeth while Mom gets PJ's ready. SB leaves. Mom gives Boxer toys to play with. Grunting and pointing at toys commences. "The Gorn" is back. Mom gives Boxer a massage. She puts lotion on Boxer. Boxer happy. She smiles at mom. Mom smiles at Boxer. Until mom tries to put lotion on Boxer's back. Boxer not happy. She has a sensory problem with this. Mom is gentle. Boxer calms down. Mom asks Boxer to find "Snoopy" Boxer sits up and points. Mom gets "Snoopy" book and reads it to Boxer. Attempts to comb Boxer's hair and clean her ears as Boxer eats the book. Boxer starts to climb wall. Pulls pictures off the wall. Mom puts Boxer in crib. Everything is thrown out of crib for the last time of the day. Mom cleans toys up. Mom gets humidifier ready. Mom takes Boxer out of crib and puts PJ's on. Boxer fights it, but her fight is weak, as the hour is late. PJ's are on. Boxer put in clean sleep sack. Mom says goodnight to all of Boxer's babies/dolls. She kisses them. She has them kiss Boxer. Boxer kisses back. Mom smiles. Boxer smiles. Mom kisses Boxer. Boxer head-butts mom. Mom knows this is a kiss. Mom turns on projector for Boxer. Says goodnight and leaves room.

8:30PM: Mom ducks into shower as quickly as her broken legs can take her. She can hear Boxer crying again. She's confident SB will give her the last bottle of the day. Mom sighs in shower.

9:30PM: Boxer has been fed, but is still fighting sleep. Eventually, thumb-sucking commences, and the Boxer drifts off into happy dreams of sugarplums and cat litter.

Up until midnight, Mom cleans the rest of the house, gets things ready for the morning, soothes Boxer as she wakes up a bunch of times, says 2 words to SB, possibly watches a bit of TV with him, then heads to the bedroom. Noise from creaking, breaking stairs usually wakes Boxer again. Mom soothes Boxer. Mom's leg is beyond recognition at this point. Pain is indescribable. Mom limps to bedroom. Checks video monitor. Boxer is drifting. Mom pops more Motrin. Flips on the TV. Puts on "That 70's show". Falls asleep around 1:30AM or 2:00AM. Is woken a few times in the night by Boxer crying.

6:30AM: Rise and shine!!!!

For those of who that made it this far into the blog entry, my hat is off to you!!! For those of you who think I'm bitching about Boxer, you are wrong. Actually, I am giving Boxer A LOT of credit. For she is a spit-fire. And she has spunk. And as you all recall, she was given "less than 1% chance" of even being born. Ha. If this is how "less than 1%" turns out to be at one year old, then so be it! That's my Boxer girl! She rocks! And by rocking out like she does, she is STILL giving the middle finger to all of those so-called doctors who doubted her. I LOVE my baby girl!!

Now, if only someone would help my ass out so I can get my leg fixed......things would be so much better, and I wouldn't crave an IV drip of hard-core moonshine to be hooked up to my veins...

Yay for Boxer Girls!!

At the park during a typical day with mom!

Til next time.

The dusty, old, faded wallpaper.

2010-04-04T23:48:00.002-04:00

When I was about 18 years old, I moved out of my parents house and moved into my Grandma's {or, the woman who was like my grandma} basement. It was typical Italian grandma basement, complete with wood paneling, a full kitchen, and a lot of odds and ends strewn about. On the walls of the kitchen area was the most hideous wallpaper I had ever seen. It was faded, and dusty, and peeling in several places. The wallpaper pattern was of a bunch of orange and yellow flowers; late 1960's style. Very Groovy. By the time I moved in, the yellow and orange had faded so badly that it was hard to imagine that this wallpaper had EVER been vibrant, let alone considered beautiful enough to be put upon a wall.

I asked my grandma if I could possibly remove the wallpaper, or paint over it, as I found it repulsive. She glanced over at the wallpaper, and said "That was once the most beautiful pattern I had ever seen. I saved money for months in order to be able to purchase it. I couldn't afford to paper the upstairs kitchen with it; the space was too big. So, instead, I put it down here". I looked back at the wallpaper and said "Seriously? I cannot imagine that anybody would accept this wallpaper for FREE, let alone save money to buy it! It is awful!". She shook her head and said "Well, right now it looks awful, but back then, it was lovely". So I asked, "Well, if you loved it so much, why did you let it go? It looks as if nobody has cared for it in years! It's peeling, and faded, and has about 17 inches of dust on it". She said "Well, as time went by, I guess I took the wallpaper for granted. I used to admire it every day when I walked by; I would clean it and shine it. If it showed even one tiny fray, I would fix it. But as time went by, I stopped looking at it so closely. Once in awhile I would dust it off, but that's about it. Eventually, I failed to ever really look at it; I knew it was there, but didn't pay much mind. In fact, until you pointed it out to me, I didn't realize what terrible condition it was in". I found this interesting, even at the young age of 18. Here was this tacky, horrible wallpaper, once beloved by my grandma, sitting neglected and disintegrating on the wall, and she didn't even notice until I pointed it out. She then looked at the wall and said "Go ahead and paint over it. There's no use trying t salvage it now". And so I did. I painted the wall a fabulous 90's inspired sky blue. And I didn't think twice about that old wallpaper as I rolled the paintbrush over the spot where yellow and orange flowers used to shine.

Perhaps I should have tried to bring the paper back to life. I'm sure that with a little TLC, I could have had those flowers shining once again, as they did the day my grandma had pasted the paper to the wall. But I didn't think that this particular wallpaper was worth saving. Nor did my grandma, the very woman who had saved her pennies to purchase it. Looking back, I wish I would have kept that wallpaper upon the wall, even if I found it to be hideous.

Because now, 20 years later, I am that wallpaper.

Moving forward.

I'd like to thank everybody for their advice on the ant situation. It continues to be a problem, and we had to appeal to the co-op board to allow a real exterminator to come on in and check it out. He arrives here tomorrow to asses the situation. SB will be home tomorrow, and this is a good thing, as I will be in Queens for...you guessed it...ANOTHER fabulous dentist appointment. Afterwards, I go to yet another orthopedist who will look at my knee and tell me how it will never be fixed unless I stay off it, or get surgery.

So much fun, so little time.

In other news, April 2nd marked the one year anniversary of when we brought my little Boxer girl home. I remember the day vividly and cannot believe it has been a year since we took our little miracle home from the NICU. I was elated, yet terrified; happy, yet sad. I had a million emotions coursing through me as we drove this tiny 4 pound baby on an apnea monitor home to our shack. I cannot believe it has been an entire year. And this year, as I watched her cruise through the house like speed-racer, I found it almost impossible to believe that my little tiny 4 pound baby {who had, at one time, been my little, tiny, 2 pound baby} was now cruising and babbling and staring up at me with her big blue eyes. And so I cried. Tears of happiness, and tears of amazement. I also cried a few tears of sorrow, as I thought about her brother Angelo, lying in the graveyard; how badly I had wanted to have BOTH of them coming home with me last year. And how wonderful it would be to have both of them staring up at me this year.

I know that all such milestones in Boxer's life will also be a tad bit bittersweet.

As for Boxer, she continues to kick ass, being her usual feisty self, but is still showing some developmental delays, especially in the speech and feeding area. I know that she will eventually overcome these obstacles. I have no doubt in my mind. Because this kid is a fighter. Always has been, and also shall be.

A few weeks ago, a very kind woman from FF {who has, sadly, also experienced the pain of losing a child} gave me a link to a beautiful memorial photo she took for my little Angel. I plan on enlarging it, printing it out, and framing it. Much thanks from the bottom of my heart to this woman for doing such a kind thing for me. It is nice to have something with his name on it, as it pains me that we are still unable to afford to have his name etched on the tomb which marks his final resting spot.

I miss my little boy with all my heart.

This weekend, we took Boxer out. The weather is getting nicer, RSV season is almost over, and I think she's ready to take on the world. I will have a detailed update of our escapades over the weekend, and will try my best to focus solely on her, and not on me. Several things have truly hurt me in the past few weeks...hell, the past few YEARS..... But alas, there is no point in me stating the obvious:

I am nothing more than faded, dusty wallpaper to each and every person I know. And I have no doubt in my mind, that they shall continue to walk past me without a second glance, just as my grandma eventually did to her beloved orange and yellow flowered wall.

Til next time.

The attack of the carpenters...

2010-03-25T13:33:00.002-04:00

What.

the.

fuck.

After I wrote my last update, I saw a couple of odd looking ants with wings crawling around on the floor. I didn't think much of them. Ants come out when it rains, and when it gets warmer.

The next day, I saw a few more. They seemed to be coming from each end of the new shack. Again, I chalked it up to the weather.

Fast forward to last night. All of a sudden, these ants...were...EVERYWHERE. I kid you not. They were in the living room, the bathroom, the kitchen...they were all over the steps..they were in my bedroom, the hallway, Boxer's bedroom, and ALL OVER HER CRIB. Hundreds of them. Some without wings, but most with wings. I had to flee my house and drive at 2AM with Boxer to my mother's home. She is an OCD mess, so she allotted us a total of ONE hour of sleep and then kicked us out. I had to come back to the house, and as I learned more about ants, I found out that these are carpenter ants. And this is a HUGE infestation. HUGE. No little spray from the superintendent guy is going to help this problem. They are EVERYWHERE. Which could explain the rotting wood that is all over the place. And our deck that is breaking. And why I keep referring to the new place as "the Money Pit" since everything seems to fall apart.

Does anybody in blog land know about carpenter ants? How do you get rid of them? Does this explain why my house is sloping {as mentioned in my last entry, and the reason why we cannot install any baby gates}?

Why oh WHY couldn't we have had the extra $10,000 difference to get the nicer, more updated, better-kept co-op? Why oh WHY did we have to choose the one that was falling apart and owned by someone who was 110? Why oh WHY does EVERY single HOUSE I live in become infested with bugs that crawl all over my Boxer?

Someone HELP! If you know anything about these fuckers, leave me a message please. Even on one hour of sleep both Boxer and I are unable to nap for fear that we shall awaken with 7.6 billion carpenter ants crawling on us while flapping their ugly white wings.

LUCK

JUST

SUCKS

The end.

The good, the bad, and the WHAT THE F***

2010-03-23T15:21:00.004-04:00

Boxer is giving me a nap. Not something that happens very often. Especially at this time. She's been quite a cranky mess today, as well as last night. I didn't get much sleep. Nor did she. I think SB was the only one who actually slept. But that's because he was on the couch. Perhaps tonight I'll take the couch, if cranky-pants sticks around. I suppose I should be following the advice that has been bestowed upon me since I brought her home from the NICU; "Sleep when they sleep". But alas, I'm over-tired, and I have way too many chores to do. So instead of sleeping, or sweeping, I'll sit here on my lazy ass and give an update....

Let me take off my Forrest Gump brace so I can perch my laptop comfortably.

Yes, Forrest continues to be in full-effect, and no progress has been made in healing the numerous injuries I have. I went back to the Orthopedic guy to ask what I can do, and he clearly said "The ONLY thing that will help is to go on crutches and stay completely off the knee for at least 2 weeks, and then follow-up with intense physical therapy". Yea ok. I'm not sure what planet my ortho lives on, but it certainly isn't the isolated and desolate one that I inhabit. I wouldn't be able to be on crutches and chase after a baby unless I had help. Which I do not. So that remedy is moot. When I reminded him of this, he said "I cannot help you any further. Surgery may ease things up a bit, but that isn't a guarantee. I think you should go for a second opinion because I'm out of ideas". Hmm. That's great. Cause I'm shit out of luck.

{I guess that's part of "the bad"}

Limping around like Forrest has been even more challenging lately, as Boxer has decided to take the hell off! She isn't technically walking yet, but she's a step away from doing so. She's crawling faster than a roach does when the lights are turned on, and cruising around the furniture at such high speeds that she sometimes appears to be nothing more than a blur. One minute she's there, the next she is not. She can walk around the coffee table like no other. She is at the point where she lets go and attempts to walk across the floor. She has failed miserably at this, but continues to try. This kid has got guts. Another favorite thing for her to do is climb the steps. The WOODEN steps. Which leads to many bruises and falls and leads me to search around for my bottle of Klonopin. Poor Boxer looks like she's been in the rink with Rocky a few times over. My cell phone is battered and beaten from all the abuse it receives, as phones and remotes are her favorite toys, along with the cat bowl. Fun Fun Fun. But all of this is actually fabulous news. Because she is doing FANTASTIC for a preemie. All of her new PT's, OT's, and speech therapists are very impressed with her progress, and claim she is doing phenomenal for a micro-preemie. Aside from her daredevil antics and never-ending energy, she is babbling constantly, says "mama" all the time, and knows 10 or so words, even if she can't speak. When I ask her where the ceiling fan is, she points to it. If I tell her to get her shoe, she does. So she's a gutsy kid with brains. {Hmmm..wonder where she gets it from?? TOOT TOOT goes my own horn}. She's still a petite little chic; we haven't made it to 20 pounds yet, and she's not very tall, but that's ok. When I was younger I always wanted to be short and thin. I also wanted blue eyes. Irony at it's best! Now, if we could only find baby gates that fit our odd-shaped doorways, strange crooked steps, and weird sloping floors, I would really let her loose all the time without grimacing in pain as I chase after her while Weird Al's version of "He's Gump" plays over and over in my head!

{I guess this part of the "good"}

Speaking of the new house, things here have gone well {even if it is a bit like the "money pit" in which things fall apart all the time}. The only thing I'm NOT thrilled about is the neighborhood. Now, I am a Queens girl at heart. I was born and bred there. I lived there most of my life, save for the 4 or so years I was out in Las Vegas. But basically it's been all about Queens. For those of you outside of NYC, I'll let you in on a little secret: Queens people normally cannot STAND Long Island. We have our pre-conceived notions of what people are like out in the Island: Snobbish; bitchy; unfriendly; strange; bizarre; cultish. And that's being kind. SB is a Long Island boy, and he assured me that my stereotyping of the "Island people" is incorrect.

If this was "The Gong Show", SB would have been MAJORLY gonged for that tidbit.

God do these people SUCK! W.T.F!! I have tried to be nice. I smile at people. I say hello. For fuck's sake, I have even said "Good Day". I hold doors open for others. I wave. I let people get in front of me while at the light if they need to. And what do I get in return? BACKS turned to me. Nasty looks. Cold shoulders. What is WRONG with these Islanders? Seriously. I'm assuming it's the water. Because the water out here smells and tastes like a dirty pool. Here are some fabulous examples of the hospitality I have received from the Long Island community:

**Cue intermission music as it is now several hours later. The nap that Boxer gave me was less than 30 minutes. Some things never change. End intermission music**

Ok, where was I? Oh yes, a few examples of the courteous and friendly folk that I have encountered in these here parts:

1) I went to Kohls searching for an area rug to put in Boxer's room. I saw a bunch of rugs, but that all looked like they shed. I found one that was non-shedding; however, it did not have gripping on one side; it was like a toss rug. Reminded me of a blanket. There was an older woman looking at the rugs with her hubby. I heard her say she wanted the same color as the one they already have so they can put them side by side. So I decided to ask her a question.

Me: Excuse me, sorry to bother you. But you seem to be familiar with this rug. How would you get a rug like this to stay put on a wood floor?"

Cranky old bitch: I do not work here.

Me: I know, but you seem to be familiar with this particular rug. How do you keep them on a wood floor without sliding?

Cranky old bitch: I don't have to tell you. Figure it out yourself. I'm busy.

Uh. Yea. Thanks.

{this is most certainly part of the "what the fuck!"}

2) Drove to Starbucks and carried Boxer in so I could get coffee. The woman in front of me on line was holding a baby close to Boxer's age, who was wearing the same exact hat as Boxer

Me: Aww look Boxer!. The little girl has the same hat. {to woman} She's so cute! How old?

Bitch with a baby: no words uttered here. Turns back to me. Swings baby to the other side. Hides baby. Ignores question

Me: Boxer. Did you see that? Remember what she did. And don't ever do it when you get older. Because it's obnoxious. And rude.

Ugh.

Don't even get me started on the Mom's group that I joined out here. Apparently, I am too "toxic" for them, and my child will be "dumb" because she eats formula. She will grow up to be a mutant because she wears pampers and not cloth. This broad who called me from the Mom's group literally interviewed me, and then insulted Boxer and I, left and right and right and left. It took a good 10 minutes before I told her where to go, and how to get there, with a cloth diaper and organic shirt shoved up her haughty judgemental ass.

And this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Thankfully, the people who live on one side of me are extremely cool, and I love them! They have a 4 year old little boy, and I see us hanging out tons once the weather gets nice. The chic on the other side of me? Total bitch. I bet she's the daughter of the old crab from Kohl's.

Again, it's the water. I am counting on it. I want it tested.

I met another nice woman when I took a drive to the beach with Boxer when it was nice out one day. She was very sweet. She told me she frequents the park there once the weather gets warm. I hope to see her again. Also, the new hair dresser I went to was crazy cool. She may have turned my head into an orange disaster, but I forgave her, exchanged numbers with her, and will hopefully find a friend in her as well {even though I now have to drive back into Queens to have my old hair dresser fix this hair, lest I be mistaken for Bozo the Clown or Ronald McDonald in error}.

My teeth continue to be a bother, and the drive back into Queens once a week is NOT exciting me in the least. Oh the joy of spending over an hour in the car {sometimes longer in traffic} just so I can sit in his torture chair and have him drill and mold and yank and stick needles in my poor swollen gums. I would find another dentist out here, but this dude takes my insurance, AND, we have already paid for 3 of my crowns that he now has.

Wow. I have so much more to say and not any time left. It's late, I'm tired, and I feel as if I should clean up a little before attempting to sleep and saying a little prayer that my Boxer sleeps better tonight than last night.

I'm sure you're all well aware of the promise I'm about to make. But perhaps I shouldn't make the promise, as I always seem to break it.

Ah, what the hell. I promise I will update more often. I hate writing entries so far in-between. My frazzled brain and 2 remaining brain cells can never remember all the things I wanted to say.

Til next time. Here's an updated pic of Boxer. I am still considering going private. In the interim, I'm keeping tabs on all your ass's!!

Snow, standing, and teeth {or lack thereof}. Oh my!

2010-02-18T21:25:00.004-05:00

So I'm sitting on the couch in my new shack, my mouth throbbing in pain from where my tooth was pulled yesterday, the snow piled on my back porch, Boxer girl in her crib still sporting a toothless smile, and a smelly cat sitting next to me...

Perhaps the times didn't change too much? Hmmmm...

The move went as smoothly as it could, considering this is my life...we had a HUGE storm on the day we moved, so Boxer and I were sequestered to my mother's house while all the action took place. SB finally came to get us {and the cat, who had been locked in the bathroom at the old shack..poor baby!} late that night, and off we went. By the time we got to the new shack, Boxer was quite tired, so she just conked the hell out without even realizing she wasn't in her old home. Until 2AM or so. When she started SCREAMING.

Poor thing! She's had a difficult time adjusting, but she's getting the hang of it now!

The new shack is most certainly a HUGE improvement from the prior. We have more than one room; this is always a good thing. Boxer can actually crawl further than 12 inches without hitting a wall. That's a good thing too. We have a functioning kitchen so I can cook meals; this is not a good thing for my thighs, but is a great thing for SB & Boxer's bellies. We can have more than one person visiting at a time, because we finally have our couches back. Fuckin A'.

Of course, the cloud of doom that is Dee always shows up on the horizon, and as the weeks go by, I am being reminded of the movie "The Money Pit". The people who "renovated" this house must have done so with a stapler and a bottle of Elmer's glue. I don't even think it was crazy glue. I'm talking Elmer's, the big ol' bottle you used to use in pre-school to craft your boxes with gold spray-painted macaroni. In fact, one of those boxes remains at my mother's house from 1910, and it's in better shape than half the shit in this house. Racks fall off walls. Faucets have completely come off the sinks. The sinks themselves {pedestal sinks} have come off the fucking floor. The handles on the tub have come off. The tub has stopped draining. None of the doors close all the way anymore {the plates for the doors were suddenly "missing"} The "re-finished" wood floors have nothing but splinters, paint splatter, and lines of old glue from carpets that had been ripped up. {mind you, the floors were supposed to be fixed before we moved in, but was never done because SB didn't pursue it}. However, this doesn't make up for the kitchen cabinet that is hanging on with play-doh. What.the.fuck. Also, the doors are not weather-proofed, and the windows need caulking in a bad way. Boxer's windows are the worst. We can't even get them to latch. So they're a little bit open. And when the temps have been in the 20's, this has been a bad thing. Now, one of the things I had loved about this house was the hardwood floors. Until now. Because the beautiful area rug I bought for the living room shed like a son-of-a-bitch. PLUS...I was allergic to it. I broke out in hives all over my body. And it was supposed to be "non-allergic hemp". Bullshit. I had to toss it out. I brought the little shag rug we had in our room and put it in the living room. Now there are no rugs at all in the bedrooms, which sucks when you have drafty windows and wood floors. Plus, we don't have much furniture or wall decorations so there is nothing to "warm up" the place or "absorb the noise". To top it all off, there is something wrong with the gutters in the front of the house, so we have a fabulous waterfall of melting snow and ice that cascades down directly in front of our door, enabling friends and family to take a quick showering while visiting in the day, or going for a nice skate by the end of the night, since the water turns into an ice-rink. Oh joy.

Ok, I went on a bit of a tangent. I must stop myself. I blame it on the mouth.

Yes, I had the tooth pulled yesterday. And for all of those people who told me it wouldn't hurt? YOU LIED! BASTARDS! This shit is killing me! I think it's FAR worse than a root canal. And now I'm paranoid about getting this "dry socket" crap, because I couldn't keep the gauze in my mouth too long {I was gagging} and I was blowing kisses to Boxer, etc, when I'm not supposed to be blowing kisses, or drinking through a straw, blah blah blah, and so the list goes on. Hopefully this will be the LAST dental procedure I need to get done, aside from the gum surgery and orthodontist {although I'm not sure if I can get to the orthodontist, as my insurance won't cover me for braces unless I'm under 18, and man am I WELL over 18!}

Speaking of age, Ms Boxer & Mr Angel turned the big ONE on Jan 28th. It was a very bittersweet day. We had only been in the new house for a day or two at that time. We set up a birthday party that Sunday. Boxer had a BLAST! And so did we! It felt great to do something NORMAL!!!! But even in the middle of the celebration, I still had a pang of sorrow in my heart, because I miss my little boy. During the party, SB, Boxer and I wrote messages on balloons for Angelo {well. Boxer didn't actually WRITE hers, but you get the point} and we released them in the back of our complex so our Angel could be a part of the celebration. It was a moving experience. Our party guests quietly watched from the back door and took pics of it. Then, the festivities continued and I was pleased to be watching my miracle girl enjoying the attention of people while tearing into gifts and shoving cupcake icing all over her face. How nice it was to be able to have a party!! So for that, I thank the new shack, even if it is put together with rubber bands.

Since then, my fucking legs have gotten worse {we have 2 stories in this townhouse, so I have to navigate stairs every day}. My mother-in-law has been kind enough to stay with me while SB works some WACKED out hours due to a temporary change in his schedule. Thank god she has come here on those days, or else I wouldn't have made it. Between the tooth pain, the knee pain, the swelling in my knees {they need to be drained again}, my ZERO knowledge of this new neighborhood, my panic attacks that have been off the charts, and Boxer's INSANE ability to crawl, pull up, cruise, and bang her head 1.7 billion times a day, I would have had to commit myself into an asylum. So thank you mom in law!!

I have many pictures I want to share, plus a more lengthy update. However, it's late, I'm tired, and I'm once again obsessing over this whole "dry socket" thing. Plus, I'm still weary of who is reading this blog. Does anybody know how I make it private? I still haven't figured it out. I guess I'm not as smart as I thought I was...

Holy CRAP does this missing tooth area hurt. And speaking of missing teeth, Ms Boxer still has NONE. I won't deny that I have become a little worried about this. I keep having visions of her never getting any teeth at all. Creepy.

For now, here is one pic of Miss Boxer girl going to town with her birthday cupcake. Happy Birthday to my beautiful miracle on Earth, and my wonderful son in heaven! {and Mommy's birthday passed too...all within the same 2 weeks...damn am I old!! However, I'm glad we're all Aquarians because frankly, Aquarians rock! }

Yumma Yumma in my tumma!

Til next time...

....Cause the times, they are a' changing...

2010-01-23T16:27:00.003-05:00

There has been so much going on that I don't even know where to begin.

I come to you today whilst in a leg brace, cane in hand, with a tooth falling out of my mouth, and a non-stop rendition of "Humpty Dumpty" playing softly in the background, on repeat, as Boxer keeps hitting the button for it on her electronic book.

I also come to from beneath a pile of boxes and bags and all kinds of crap because...get ready...I'm serious...brace yourself...are you ready? Can you handle the reason??? Ok, I won't keep you hanging.....because we are FINALLY MOVING.

Yes, the long-awaiting move from out of the shack shall commence on Monday! It's a fuckin' miracle!

Since I last blogged, many things have happened. Let me try my best to sum it all up as best as I can, since having "Humpty Dumpty" playing in my ear tends to distract me from writing properly..

...All the kings horses and all the kings men, couldn't put Humpty together again....

In this case, I am Humpty, and the horses and men are doctors and nature! After bitching and moaning for months on end about my knee pain, I was finally able to do a little bit of physical therapy..however, it wasn't doing jack shit for me, since I could only go once a week for an hour or so. Plus, my knee had gotten so swollen I wasn't able to bend it AT.ALL. And it HURT. BAD. I had to reach back into my past and channel my inner gymnast in order to get on the floor with Boxer, or pick her up for that matter. I should have won a gold medal for these acrobatics. So I begged my dad to watch Boxer so I could go back to the orthopedic guy. He told me at this point I needed a MRI in order to determine what was REALLY going on. Then, I had the pleasure of getting my knee drained. The joy I felt in my heart when I saw that large needle headed towards my poor, swollen, pain-riddled knee is indescribable! After draining about 180 cc's of fluid, he patched me up & sent me on my way. I made an appointment for my MRI and then off to the dentist I went! He was as sadistic as he normally is while drilling some more teeth, {he's not really sadistic, I just think that dental work is torture}, and then told me that the last one was so fucked up, I had no choice but to get it pulled. Fabulous. So, I left there with an x-ray of my destroyed tooth, and a phone number to an oral surgeon {along with a phone number to a Periodontist to get my gum surgery}. Fast forward to MRI day, when I got to sit around in a hospital gown freezing my ass off for 2 hours before getting shoved inside a tube with a strap on my hurting knees {which had re-filled with fluid already}. Ring Ring went the phone from the Orthopedic dude, who informed me that not only do I have fluid in my left knee, but I also have a bruised kneecap, Femur, Tibia, and a fractured fibula. The fracture looks to be anywhere from 6-8 months old. The bone is filled with fluid. MRI also shows that cartilage had broken off from somewhere, and was taking a swim in my kneecap. On the right knee I have a "floating kneecap". Does the fun ever end for me? Certainly not! The remedy to all this was either complete bed rest for 2 weeks or possible surgery. Both of these remedies are NOT an option right now {or possibly EVER}. So, he fitted me with a full leg brace, handed me a cane, told me to stay off my feet as much as possible, and to go back to him in 2 weeks. From there, we will determine if surgery is DIRELY necessary.

Nice to know that I have been walking around on a fractured and bruised leg with rotted teeth for months on end. I feel like the fucking bionic woman or some shit like that. And now I look like her with this contraption on my leg. Big props to all of those who helped me out when I said I needed help {sarcasm is oozing off your screen so fast that you may need a paddle to get out of your home...}

So, although moving is fantastic, it is quite the bitch to do when you can't move one leg at all, can barely move the other, and are using a cane {although the cane may come in handy if I need a weapon to beat SB on the head with so he moves around quickly, instead of staring at the TV for updates and sports-talk about the JETS game tomorrow}

Moving onto a completely different subject, I have contemplated making this blog private. It is something I really do NOT want to do. However, I am sometimes worried about exactly WHO is reading this. {although my initial intent for this blog was for it to be an education on IF for those who wanted/needed it, without giving a damn about what people thought of me}. But now Boxer is involved. And I became quite horrified one day when I was going through entries from last year, and noticed that a crazy-ass stalker had left some VERY disturbing comments which I had NEVER SEEN, as they had been posted right when I gave birth to the twins. The comments stopped abruptly as soon as SB posted about the arrival of the twins. Nevertheless, I am a bit freaked out by this {one of them was someone pretending to be an employee of the hospital I was in, and she wrote that if she "drew the short stick" to have me as her patient for the day, she would ignore me. That comment was written at the exact time that I was in labor, screaming for help in my room while drowning in vomit and being dilated to 7 with breech twins...being ignored by my nurse}. So I wonder if this nutjob from hell still reads my blog. Or how many other nutjobs from hell are out there reading it right now. Creepy if you think about it. So, it's very possible I will go private. However, I do NOT want to lose touch with all of you guys who have been like family to me. Therefore, if I decide to go through with it {and figure out HOW to do it} I will set up an email and post it here so you can tell me who you are, and I can grant you permission to continue viewing.

I know... that was random and totally out of the nowhere. But Humpty Dumpty has now morphed into Jimmy crack corn and my head is now cracking from it.. {btw....WHY in the HELL is Jimmy crack corn considered a children's song? It's about a slave who is happy that the master who beat the crap out of him just got thrown from a horse and died, so he can be free now and crack corn without fear of getting whipped. And how about "Ring around the Rosie"? It's a song about the black plague!!! This are things that amuse and baffle me when I can't fall asleep...}

As for Boxer girl, she has made HUGE HUGE HUGE improvements within the last few weeks!!!

1) She is now crawling!! After crawling backwards and spinning in circles for what seemed an eternity, she just decided to take the hell off one day. And she hasn't looked back since. She is all over the shack, getting faster and faster as the days go by. Juniper is not too pleased with this latest milestone, and neither are my knees, but my heart is absolutely soaring!

2) She says MAMA. Yup, she does. First word. How awesome is that? On New Years day, I was changing her, and she just starting saying "mamamamamama". Of course I broke down into tears like a dork. She has continued to say MAMA, and now says it both for no reason {while lying in her crib, or getting a bath, etc} and also when she sees me!!! Again, my heart soared!

3) She is high-kneeling and hanging onto the top of her crib/toys, etc, and is about 2 seconds away from pulling herself up completely. Holy crap!!

4) While I help her to stand in the crib, she "cruises" in there, from side to side..I allow her to do this because there is nowhere for her to cruise in the shack. Again, holy crap!!!!

5) She has begun to eat some puffs. She is able to pick it up with her fingers and put it in her mouth. She also likes to chew on teething biscuits. But this is the extent of her table food as she still has NO TEETH AT ALL...

It's been a busy few weeks for my little Boxer. Of course, along with the fun stuff, comes the annoying things. Remember I told you about her never-ending-whining? Well, it's still in full effect, except it is now LOUDER and has variations of whining...sometimes it's just straight growling..other times it's a fake cry, etc, etc...ALL of it ends in her screaming or crying for no apparent reason. She has also dropped her 20 minute power naps she would take here and there, and now she only naps ONCE a day for about 15 minutes. That's it. 15 minutes. This would turn Mother Teresa grey. My mother in-law didn't believe it until she witnessed it. She's also perfected her wicked temper, and is the nosiest little thing I have ever seen in my life, which means that she wants everything she sees and will throw a fit if she doesn't get it. I'm wondering if all of this is "normal" for a 9 month old {adjusted age}, but I'm thinking she may be a "high needs" baby, as my mother in-law put it. But I shan't complain. {too much...oh who the hell am I kidding, some days I want to rip my hair out of my head while drinking a bottle of whiskey and chain smoking. But I digress...}

Boxer also had her very first "professional" pictures taken at Sears. I wanted to do it for her first birthday. I felt it was time to get her out & about, and also to do some "normal" things. Although she was utterly fascinated with the store itself, she was not so impressed with the portrait studio, or taking pictures, or the dress I had her in. But she was a good sport about it and only cried once. However, she didn't give her usual BIG smiles; instead, she gave what I called "Mona Lisa" smiles. They came out lovely!

Emotionally, I have been extremely melancholy as the twins first birthday approaches. I have also felt very torn in my emotions, as I am elated that Boxer is here, and doing so well, and still so sad that Angelo is not with us. What would he have looked like? Would he have the same blue eyes as Boxer, or would they have been brown like mine? Would they have been best friends? What would it be like to have seen them sleeping next to each other while holding hands? The questions that go on in my head are enough to drive me crazy. But I am trying to cope as best as I can.

So, it's outta the shack for this family. And as much as I hate this place, I know I will miss it. My grandma lived here. It's as if an entire era is coming to an end. I have many happy memories within these walls. Hopefully, our new home will be filled with as many happy memories for Boxer to remember when she is older.

Here are some pics:

Boxer on Christmas Day

Last year, day after she was born:

This year, turning one. Unbelievable. A friekan beautiful miracle!

Til next time..

Happy December and all that Jazz take 2!

2009-12-27T22:05:00.002-05:00

So, I had an entire entry written out, and when I published it, there was nothing there but the title. Don't ask me why, cause' I do not know.

Moving forward...

I'd like to wish all of you out there in blogland a Happy December, and I hope your December was a good one. I don't feel like naming any holiday because I have been yelled at by a few people for being politically incorrect. Personally, I could give a crap about being PC. At my last office, I was given 3 "Happy Kwanzaa" cards. I don't even know what the hell Kwanzaa is. But I didn't get offended by the cards. I actually thought it was a nice gesture that someone thought to wish me well on a holiday of theirs. However, I am very much in the minority about this one..and so Happy December it is!!

I have some good & bad news to discuss {as usual} and will do my fair share of being happy and also being sad {as usual} topped off with a lot of bitching {SHOCKER} and a lot of bragging {not about me, of course...}. I will start off by giving a numerical summary of the events leading up to the holiday that I myself celebrate {Christmas for those who are wondering, but feel free to wish me Happy Solstice if you'd like..I won't mind!}

1) After many months of fighting, arguing, lies, deceit, ill-will, hard feelings, bullshit, nonsense, and lost money, WE.HAVE.CLOSED.ON.OUR.CO-OP. Yes, it was a Festivus Miracle {feel free to wish me a Happy Festivus too!}. We closed that shit up on the 21st, and I am SO GLAD to be DONE with these ASSHOLE MORTGAGE PEOPLE and my WASTE OF AN OVARY LAWYER. Unfortunately, we will have to deal with the dipshit bank for a bit longer, since they have our mortgage. But, the bottom line is we are CLOSED and we can start doing repairs and fixing up the place! My goal is to be in there before Boxer's birthday, so I have much to do!! I cannot wait to sit in my 900 square foot palace! {and yes, it shall be a palace to me!!}

2) I have been able to get myself to a couple of physical therapy sessions, and I really wish I could go as often as they advised, because I think it's helping a bit. Unfortunately, I have nobody to watch Boxer {story of my fucking life!} so I'm lucky to get there once a week. But hey, I'll take ANYTHING at this point.

3) I had 4 more teeth drilled {yes, in one long, long LONG session}, so only 4 more to go. Then I have 1 more root canal, 3 more bridges, and one tooth to be pulled. After all that, I will be able to get work done on my gums and hopefully straighten out my teeth. {Bitching will begin in 3...2...1...} But, of course, this is all taking MUCH longer than it has to, because people in my life suck major balls, and never want to help me out. Also, I think my dentist is a secret sadist who is intent on inflicting as much pain on me as he can, as well as several full-fledged panic attacks. This dude has no patience either. He's constantly yelling at me when I ask him to stop for a moment because I'm swallowing blood or whatever. This is the same dude I have been going to all my life. You think he'd know me by now, and be a bit more understanding. Bastard!!

As for the holidays, they were both happy & depressing. On Christmas Eve, my parents went out to visit the family member who "hates me for having a child". {I think we should give her a name. I'm tired of writing that out every time she is mentioned. How about SAFF for Shitty-ass family fucktard. Write the initials down for future reference}. My entire family went to SAFF's for Christmas Eve, as they do for EVERY holiday, because they ALL kiss her ass. Please note that NONE of these family members have ever CALLED me, let alone visited me, since having the babies. None of them give a flying shit about Boxer because they don't want to offend SAFF. None of them came to Angelo's funeral. Which is ridiculous in itself since SAFF is the one who is CLEARLY WRONG. But I guess my "family" {and I use the term loosely} doesn't want to give up having holiday gatherings at SAFF'S mansion to come and see me in a shack, or in a measly co-op. It really is a damn shame. In the morning on Christmas eve, my dad came over to watch Daniella, and I drove to the graveyard to visit Angelo. There was about 8-10 inches of snow on the ground, so it was tough for me to walk to his grave {with my knee problems}, but I did it, because I wanted to say hello, and I also wanted to lay a wreath on his tomb. I cleared away the snow, and decorated as best as I could on his unmarked grave {my grandma's name is on it, but we have yet to etch his name in the stone, due to finances}. Then I stood there and sang him a song, as the tears poured down my frozen cheeks. I miss him so much. And I would give anything to have him here with us. The pain and suffering that a parent feels when they lose a child is horrifying. I know, because I feel the pain every day of my life. I wish more people understood this, but sadly, they do not. Anyhow, I was happy that I gave my son Christmas in heaven. After I returned from the cemetery, my parents were off for holiday cheer at SAFF"s house, and I was quietly enjoying the day with Boxer. We also had a surprise visitor..my BFF stopped by with her 5 week old son! I was so excited to have company, and so was Boxer! She LOVED the baby so much. Absolutely entranced by him. It was precious to watch. Later on in the evening, SB came home from work. I had planned for us to have a small dinner {take out, of course, since I have a non-functioning kitchen}, play with Boxer, and then watch Christmas movies while drinking cocoa and eating the cookies my dad had dropped off. But SB was very tired, so he didn't really eat, and then he fell asleep. So, I had my cocoa and cookies by myself, and called it a night. Christmas morning...SANTA CAME! My parents had dropped off A TON of gifts from "Santa", and I was overwhelmed by how many things they bought. Holy Crap. For real. SO.MUCH.STUFF. We didn't even have enough room to OPEN all of the gifts! Daniella was delighted, as was I! Yay for grandparents!! That afternoon, we took a quick drive over to my parents house so Daniella could see some decorations, and we could have something to eat. SB was still a walking Zombie, and SAFF kept calling because she was "pissed off" that my parents didn't spend Christmas day at her mansion {I guess Christmas Eve wasn't enough for her...} but I had a good time, and so did Daniella. She also got MORE gifts! {Totally grateful to my parents for this, even though they went WAY overboard}. Of course, most of these gifts are staying at my mom's house until we move, since we have no space for it.

But all in all, it was a great Christmas with my little girl. It wasn't as I had always imagined it, but it was wonderful just the same. Last year at this time, I sat on bed rest by myself, feeling both her & Angelo moving around in my belly, not knowing what the hell was going to happen. Deep down inside, I was afraid. So afraid. Terrified is more like it. I didn't know if we would make it. I didn't know if there would be ANY type of a silver lining. I wanted to believe it would all work out in the end. I wanted desperately to believe that both of my children would defy the odds. I was so scared that neither of them would survive. And here we are a year later. And here she is a year later. And she's a miracle. Seriously. And bottom line is...she is all I need in this world. And I will be eternally grateful to my son for sacrificing his life, and being so brave and strong. Eternally grateful that he hung on as long as he did. Without his courage and strength, she would not be here. So, Merry Christmas {yea, I said it!} to my beautiful son in heaven. We love you and miss you every day.

Ok now I am crying. This is not how the original entry went. I guess I had to much time to think about other things now....

So I guess there will be a "Happy December and all that Jazz take 3!" sometime in the coming week.

For now, some updated pictures of Ms Boxer Girl

Enjoying her first snow!

Wishing everyone a Happy December!

Can I get a twig with a bunch of lights on it please?

2009-12-08T14:22:00.005-05:00

Well, I come to you with fabulous holiday cheer, and a mouth that is throbbing in pain due to the 2 hour dental appointment I just had {one of many many MANY more to come}...

So much to say, so little time....

Since I last wrote, things have progressively gotten worse. At one point I just sat in the window of the shack, fully expecting to see the locusts swarming down upon me. I seriously must have been a very fucked-up person in a former life. I think I was Vlad the Impaler.

Yes, we are still in the shack. It is not only annoying at this point, but fucking depressing. Between SB, the mortgage company, the bank, and our attorney, I'm not sure who it is that failed me the most. Bottom line is; the offer on the co-op was accepted in July, and here we are, in mid-December, STILL WAITING FOR CLEARANCE TO CLOSE. The sheer aggravation of the situation {hey, that rhymed!} has been quite overwhelming, and has reduced me to tears on more than one occasion. If I began to even explain a portion of this disaster in detail, I would be here all day. And since time is something I never to never have, I won't go there. So, as it stands, we remain in the shack; the cold, drafty, crowded shack. The apartment that has NO HEAT in the front room {as our night-time temps begin to hover in the 20s}. That part of the shack is now useless, so my living space has been reduced from 400 square feet to about 250 square feet. I have been in hotel rooms that are bigger than this place. Due to the cramped quarters, Boxer barely has any room for her toys, and I barely have room to sit next to her on the floor. Also, there shall be no Christmas here. There isn't room for a tree; hell, there isn't room for a fucking Charlie Brown tree. No space also means no presents. All of Boxer's gifts will have to remain at my mother's house until we move {and let me remind you, the co-op we're purchasing is only 980 square feet, but compared to this place, it's a palace}. All the images I had in my head of spending my first Christmas as a mother are SQUASHED. There will be no baking of cookies while Boxer plays with brightly wrapped boxes under a tree. No lights on the windows {how could we put up lights? We had to cover our windows with plastic in a desperate attempt to reduce the freezing cold draft}. No dancing with Boxer around the apartment while singing Christmas Carols because there isn't any room for me to dance. Shit, there isn't any room for the cat to lay down. It's just pitiful. Now I KNOW that Christmas isn't really about trees and lights and Santa Claus. So please don't lecture me. I also know that my daughter is a miracle and I'm lucky that she is alive and healthy. So please don't lecture me about that either. However, that doesn't make it any less depressing. Last year, as I lay alone in my loud, construction filled apartment on bed rest, without any notion of the holiday season adorning my home, I had talked to my babies and promised them that next year, everything would be different, and all of this sadness, and anxiety, and loneliness would be a thing of the past; I would make it up to them. Now, Angelo is in heaven, and Boxer's idea of Christmas is a twig with lights wrapped around it.

What a fucking liar/loser/failure I am.

I keep picturing that movie from the 70s "The Year without a Santa Claus". If Boxer could talk, I'm sure this would be her..

So, the abandonment from my family and friends continues on it's merry way, and has actually gotten worse, thanks to SB. I won't get into details, but let's just say that there are some people who no longer like me due to his cowardly lying.

Like, I said, Vlad the Impaler...I must.have.been.him.

At least we had a decent Thanksgiving. I was supposed to go to my BFF's house, but she had just given birth {welcome to the world Ethan!!!} and was too tired to host. That left me sitting alone in the shack eating a cracker while Boxer rolled into the wall. So, I decided to just say "fuck it" and go to my cousin's house, even though the "family member" that can't stand me "because-I-had-a-baby" would be there. I figured I could just ignore her while I introduce Boxer to people she hasn't met before {these are not family members that abandoned me; they stayed away due to sicknesses, etc}. Well, the person who has a problem with me caused a HUGE FUCKING STINK about it, and after much bitching, decided she would play "martyr" and not go because she didn't want to "create hostility" during a holiday. WHATEVER. The bitch had a perfect opportunity to try to make up for all she has done to Boxer and I {as my parents SWEAR she wanted to} but she skipped out instead. To make matters worse, she decided to call both my parents cell phones about 100x on Thanksgiving day crying, moaning, and bitching about how she was all alone with her husband on a holiday and couldn't deal with it. {Give me a fucking break. Last year I sat by myself with a chocolate pudding pie that I dropped on the floor and watched my cat squash it into the carpet as she decided this was the one spot in the house where she wanted to sit. SB was working} It annoyed me for awhile, and then I let it roll off my shoulders. I'm glad I did, because Boxer LOVED being out, she LOVED everyone she met, and had a GRAND OL' TIME. It was so nice to see her excited and smiling, and to watch everyone fawn all over her. So, I am thankful for that!!!!!

As for Ms Boxer, she is doing very well; she is now almost 18 pounds {woohoo!} and is 26 inches long. She is sitting up on her own {although I have to help her into the position} and is rolling around like crazy! No crawling yet, but she is "pivoting" and turning. She is is still WAY behind on fine motor skills, and needs a lot of work. I'm still waiting for a damn OT to get here. Yet another issue. { A very nice woman I met through FF who also reads this blog was kind enough to send me a bunch of developmental toys she had for her twins, and Boxer LOVES them. They have inspired her to grasp and move forward. I'm very grateful to this woman for being so generous!! } Boxer makes a lot of noises, but no actual babbling yet. I'm working real hard on "mama". She is VERY sociable and loves people {even her physical therapist..go figure!}. Juniper and my dad seem to be her best friends. She is still an insomniac and only naps about 2x a day for 20 minutes each. She goes to bed for the night at around 10PM, wakes up here and there during the night, and is up for the day anywhere between 6AM-7AM. I wish I had her energy! She is still wearing the apnea monitor at night and has had a few episodes, but not many, and none of them serious. This is good stuff. All in all, she is a wonderful baby with quite the personality!! I still stare at her in awe, as I remember all the times I was told she had "ZERO CHANCE". Well, take that zero chance and shove it right up your ass. This kid rocks.

As for me, I'm still a walking medical disaster. The pains in my mouth had gotten worse, as did the spaces in between my teeth {a la' Lauren Hutton. Though I am no Lauren Hutton. On me, these spaces evoke such words as "trailer park trash" and "8 mile"}. I finally went to the dentist {although I had to have my dad watch Boxer, and he was petrified, as he does not know how to change a diaper or feed a baby..hey, he's 75.}. After a brutal and sadistic cleaning, I was forced to take 12 x-rays, and was informed that not only have my teeth rotted to shit {9 of my teeth need drilling. Yes, you read that correctly. 9. I had the first one done today. That one tooth alone had 3 cavities}, and I still have temporary crowns from my root canals that were done back when William Henry Harrison was in office, but I also have MASSIVE bone loss in my mouth, ALL on my front teeth, that has caused a receding gum line, which has caused my teeth to shift and separate. The dentist said I could very possibly LOSE my damn teeth. He also yelled at me and asked me why I waited so long {HI..why don't you ask the dickheads in my life why they wouldn't watch the baby for me so I can get to the damn doctor}. So now, after my extensive drilling{s}, I have to go to a periodontist and have him do some sort of gum surgery {OUCH} and attach braces to my teeth {HELLO. I'M 37. BRACES?}. And yes, ALL of this came from fertility drugs, back to back pregnancies, and a bad pregnancy, along with waiting too long to fix it. YAY FOR ME.. {Hi Vlad the Impaler}. As for the money to pay for this? Please watch me as I laugh myself to death.

Also, my knees/legs have been in AWFUL shape ever since I gave birth. I have been complaining about them for MONTHS ON END. I finally went to an orthopedic doctor {this time, both my mom and dad watched Boxer, for I was gone for over 4 hours}. After many x-rays and tests I was told I have significant bone loss in my right knee {again, pregnancy & fertility meds}, as well as "water on the knee" {I think he called it bursitis?}. On my left leg, I have a damaged ACL, bursitis, and severe damage and swelling to the muscle that goes from your knee to your ass {I forgot the name, and don't have time to look it up}. The doctor's guess is that this was a direct result of prolonged bed-rest, major surgery, a bunch of falls afterwards, and no physical therapy. Great. So now I have to try and go to PT. If I don't, I'm looking at surgery. {Vlad...where are you??}.

Ok. This entry has been VERY long {but not long enough to diminish the effects of this pain in my mouth}. I shall repeat to myself "I must update my blog more often" at least 10x a day.

And here are some pics of Boxer.

In her Halloween outfit:

Not impressed with the taste of turkey AT.ALL.

Boxer & Juniper. BFF

Til next time.

Wow

2009-11-04T18:54:00.006-05:00

So, I received a text message from a good friend I met through FF. She wanted to make sure I was OK, and informed me that there were many people who were worried about me because of my prior post. Before I say anything else, I must thank each and every one of you who rallied to show me love & support. I am truly humbled.

As for the poem I wrote and published, I cannot lie; the feelings expressed in the poem are very real. However, I didn't realize it was so poignant. For months, I have told people who are around me {IRL} that I feel this way, and they never even batted an eye. So I guess I didn't expect that anyone would actually understand or even care for that matter. I certainly didn't mean to cause any alarm. For that, I am sorry.

It has been a tough month. There was pregnancy and infant loss remembrance day. That hurt quite a bit {remembering all my miscarriages, and my beautiful Angelo}. Then, there was the "anniversary" of when my water broke {on that day, I had gone to the emergency room explaining that I had a gush of fluid; the ultrasound had showed everything to be ok..that ultrasound was wrong}. Next was the anniversary of when I was told that it was true; my water had broken, Angel had no fluid, and I was admitted into the hospital for 11 days of torture. Memories of doctors running into my room and screaming at me to abort the whole pregnancy played out in my mind. Basically, it was as if I relived the "death sentence" of my Angelo 3 times within 2 weeks. And the loss of my other pregnancies. And the feelings of guilt associated with all of it.

It also made me remember how many "friends" and "close family members" were in my life before shit got bad. Way to go dickheads. Be in a person's life until things get tough. Then conveniently DISAPPEAR like a coward. The one that hurts most of all is my IMMEDIATE FAMILY MEMBER who used their fucking IF as an excuse to distance themselves from me because they said it "hurt too much to see me have something they can't have". {this was as I lay in the hospital the first time not knowing what would happen, then as I lay on bed rest at home not knowing what will happen, then sitting back in the hospital being told my son shall be a monster, and then giving birth to the twins, losing Angelo, and watching Boxer fight for her life in an incubator}. Talk about taking things WAY too far. How is it that I have "virtual" friends battling IF who supported me, and care for me, but the "in real live" sibling deserted me? How is it that women I met on FF who have undergone NUMEROUS failed IVF's were able to remain friends with me, but the CLOSET BLOOD RELATIVE I HAVE {who didn't want to do IVF because it might make her GAIN WEIGHT or RUIN HER SUMMER} couldn't stand by my side? Fucking bullshit. And fucking painful.

To top it all off, we are still in the shack, even though our offer on the new co-op was accepted back when Marie Antoinette still had her head {July for those who don't remember}. Thanks to SB's laziness, and the incompetent assholes he deals with, we STILL do NOT have a closing date. Living in a 400 square foot apartment that doesn't have heat in the front "room" {it's really one big room with partitions to make it seem like 2} with a storage area that floods every time it rains {and it rains ALOT} has not been good for Boxer, and has not been good for me. Also, due to all the complications with the move, Boxer's Early Intervention has been interrupted {she still hasn't had an OT come to treat her as they won't assign me one in Queens when they know I will be moving soon}, and her Synagis shots are all fucked up because of the same thing; they are sending a 5 month supply of the shot to her pediatrician now {already behind..she should have been getting the shot this week} but because we will be switching doctors soon, we will have to get authorization for it all over again {which may cause a lapse}. Those of you who are familiar with Synagis shots know how imperative it is to have them given once a month. To add more fun to the moving disaster, SB's parents packed away all my cooking utensils and such {including my toaster!} almost 2 months ago, so I have been in a 400 square foot apartment filled with boxes and not a pot to piss in {literally}. Space is limited, so Boxer's toys are limited, as are places for her to just lay on the floor and kick about {especially now with the cold weather upon us and the bad heating situation}. It breaks my heart that I can't give her fun and cool things to play with, especially ones that could help with the HUGE delay she has in fine-motor skills. Yet another thing to feel guilty about.

Ok. Enough. I have dragged out the "woe is me, pity party for one" crap.

And just to let you know....despite all that I have written in this entry....despite my loneliness and sorrow that was clearly coming through in my poetry...I am still eternally grateful for my miracle girl, {who is the light of my life}, and I do EVERYTHING in my power to make her as happy and as comfortable as can be. I go to extreme lengths to mask any sorrow/panic/depression so that she does not feel my stress. And I think I'm doing a great job. Cause she's a happy little camper, who is doing great. {and still never sleeping. And still always whining. But she does smile in between those whines!} I know that things could have been so much worse. I know that I could have lost both of them. I know that I could have lost my own life too. I know that there are people who have it FAR worse than I do. But I am human. When I get a cut, I bleed red. And when I have spent close to 17 months of my life almost ALWAYS alone, I get lonely. That poem was my way of letting those feelings out.

Thank you so much for caring.

I shall update again soon, I promise!

And here is Ms Boxer girl saying THANK YOU FOR MAKING MY MOMMY FEEL LOVED! {this pic was taken when I made a make-shift "pumpkin patch" in my mom's backyard for Boxer, since we couldn't take her to a real one. I'll have pics from that day, as well as her Halloween get-up, on my next entry}...

I stare at walls.

2009-11-01T21:27:00.002-05:00

I stare at walls

I talk to walls-

This is all I’ve done;

I begged for help

I screamed for help-

And I have received none.

I’m dead inside

There’s nothing there-

An empty soul remains;

A hollow heart

I begged for help-

And not one person came

Left all alone

Within the walls-

That listened to me cry;

I screamed for help

And was ignored-

And so, my soul has died.

Um...this is about 5 entries in one...

2009-10-08T16:24:00.008-04:00

Part 1 {first attempt at an update}

So, I seriously think that the complete isolation has caused me to basically lose my mind. 16 months of being in a house 90% of the time, and ALONE in the house 99% of the time, can do that to someone....

It can also give a person WAY too much time to think, thus resulting in serious panic attacks AND the realization that the majority of the world's population totally sucks.

Anyhow, before I update, I have to add onto my handy "list" that I've been compiling. I think it's beyond pathetic that this list even EXISTS, let alone continues to grow longer as the days go by...{see above realization!!!}

7) When you have been close friends with a person for 20+ years, DO NOT continuously tell them that you are going to come and visit to help "cheer them up" and "give them a shoulder to cry on" when you have NO INTENTION OF DOING SO.

8) If you've been unemployed for like, 6 MONTHS, DO NOT use the job you've had for like, a whopping 3 WEEKS as an excuse for why you've been too "busy" to call/visit.

9) DO NOT say things like "You're always so negative", "you always look troubled" and "You still look fat" as a greeting to a woman who has been depressed, alone, and through hell. {Matter of fact, don't say these things to ANY WOMAN AT ALL!}

10) When entering a woman's home, especially if she has had a tough year, or has been ill, or has recently given birth, DO NOT look at a picture of her from the year before and say "Wow, you USED to be really pretty!" {again, as a matter of fact, don't say this to ANY WOMAN AT ALL, even if it IS true!}

Dumb.as.a.pile.of.rocks I tell ya.

Anyhow, that wackjob Mackenzie Phillips and her memoirs or whatever the hell you want to call them sparked a bunch of songs from "The Mama's and the Papa's" in my head. {BTW..that bitch be nuts, and her dad was just as nuts}. Every time I look in the fucking mirror, I hear a line from "Creeque Alley" play over & over in my head, with yours truly starring as Mama Cass. Seriously, what the fuck is up with this weight thing? I BARELY eat, and when I do eat, it's usually something that tastes like cardboard or comes in a box marked "LOWFAT FOOD FOR FAT-ASSES". I exercise as much as I can; yet the mounds of fatty flesh continue to cling to my bones, and appear to be concentrated on my face, arms, and belly {3 areas that are VERY tough to hide, especially the whole FACE thing}. It's come to the point that I don't even want to look into a mirror, lest it crack in two from the fugliness OR I start googling articles on how to wear a bag over my head while in public and have it deemed "fashionable". I was never a size zero, but this is ridiculous, and I'm not surprised that I haven't been riding the hobby horse as much as I should be...why would SB want to be suffocated by the likes of Jaba the Hut? I think even slutty men have their standards.

For those of you that aren't dorks like me, here is a clip of that song, just in case you have never heard of it. Now stick me in a yellow dress and call me Big Bird II.

Part 2

Once again, several days have passed since I began this entry. It seems to take me weeks to complete ONE paragraph due to Boxer Girl, the biggest insomniac baby of the century. It's as if she still receives caffeine intravenously {she used to be given this in the NICU to help with her apnea episodes; very common "medication" for preemies}. She has no idea what a nap is. She believes this to be completely unnecessary. 10 minutes of her eyes closed is about all I can get during the day, 3x a day if I am lucky. Within that time that she is "napping", I have to cram all housework, bottle cleaning, showering, and other day to day jobs. Doesn't leave me much time for anything else, and has also has led my shack to resemble the garage from "Sanford & Son". {damn am I dating my old, fat ass}. Boxer is still VERY uninterested in toys; she is entertained for about 5 minutes by her exersaucer, maybe 15 minutes by her light up toys if I put her on a blanket on the floor. She likes rattles and crap, but only if I am holding them and giving them to her. She has also developed a new habit: NEVER.ENDING.WHINING. I thought it could be teething, but when my mother inspected her mouth, she told me that there was nothing there. So I have no clue what all the whining is about. And when I mean NEVER.ENDING,, I am not exaggerating. It's all day, even while eating, or with a binky in her mouth. She has mastered sleep-whining; don't ask me HOW she does it, she just DOES!

As for her progress, she is walking in the footsteps of her mother and becoming a Fatty McFatson. At her last doctor visit, she weighed in at 15 pounds 3 ounces, which is fabulous for her adjusted age, and even put her VERY close to the 5th percentile for her actual age. Way to go Fatty Pants!! She is also doing very well with sitting up, and still loves to stand. However, she has yet to roll over, and she is continuing to make fists with her hands. She also really sucks at reaching/grabbing. This is now becoming worrisome to me. She has an evaluation with the Occupational therapist tomorrow and sessions should commence shortly.

As for me, I have had a rough week. The crimson tide was very late to pull on in, but when it did, it was HIGH. And PAINFUL. And it's STILL THERE. In the midst of all that, Boxer & Angel's 8th month birthday passed. Right after that, I had to go to my BFF's baby shower. Now, let me say this first: I love my BFF to pieces. She has been the ONLY fucking person to show concern for me, to listen to me, and to come see me whenever she gets the chance. Major props to my BFF {the other "BFF" can SUCK IT right now, cause I barely remember what she looks like}. And this is why I went to her baby shower, even though I knew it would depress me. Why? Well, for one thing, I have no idea what it's like to have a "normal" pregnancy. I also have no clue what it feels like to have people look at you with happiness and joy while your pregnant {most people looked at me with fear or sorrow in their eyes}. Celebrations for the impending arrival of a little one...what in the fuck is THAT? Support from your sibling? HUH? And, to top it all off, she is expecting a little boy.

And so I went. I sat in the private room in the fancy restaurant {ironically, the VERY SAME room and restaurant that Boxer was supposed to have her baptism party, until fucktards messed it all up} and stared at all that was going on. I looked at the cute little boy gifts and the little boy paraphernalia all over the table. I watched people hug her & kiss her & rub her belly. I looked at how happy she is, how fabulous she looked, and how excited her mom, dad, brother and hubby are. And then, I wanted to puke. Not only because I couldn't help but be envious, but because I felt GUILTY for even ALLOWING myself to FEEL envious. Or sad. Because I WAS sad. I am supposed to have a son here on earth. And I do not. BUT DO NOT GET ME WRONG. I am over-the-moon happy for my BFF. She is seriously the BEST FRIEND on Earth and a fabulous person overall. I just couldn't help the darkness of own demons from flooding over me...it's just.too.soon.

Part 3 {will I EVER finish this update?}

What the hell DAY is it? WHEN did I start this update? I can't even remember that far back! I think I may have still been wearing flip flops and blasting out the a/c. Now I am freezing my fat ass off and have a space heater taking up half of the shack.

{Speaking of the shack, we were supposed to have been OUT of here by now, but thanks to incompetent real estate people, lack of money, and the LAZIEST man on Earth {SB for those who do not know him personally} we are still rolling ghetto-style in our 400 square foot piece of crap. Poor little Boxer barely has any toys because frankly, there isn't any room! And the shack is old, and drafty, and just plain sucks. I am hoping we will be out of here before the leaves fall from the trees, or I get a call from Jenny Craig asking me to be their "Before" spokesperson {which ever comes first}. }

So, I have much more to say, but I think that this particular entry is already WAY too long, and I'm sure nobody has time to read a blog entry that rivals the length of "War & Peace". So, I shall close this up now, with a few updated pics of Ms Boxer, {actually, they're from a few weeks ago, but then again, so is most of this update!} and a promise to update again within the next few days because I have MUCH to tell, and MUCH on my mind {don't all faint at the same time please! I know that hearing me say such a thing is quite shocking!}

So here is Ms Boxer eating her PABLUM {in this pic it is Oatmeal mixed with some applesauce}

Ms Boxer laughing at Mommy while she dances like an idiot in the kitchen trying to keep her entertained!

Til next time {which will be REAL soon! I pinky Swear!!!}

I need to find my "happy place". And friekan stay there.

2009-09-13T16:03:00.007-04:00

First off, I would like to thank all of you that sent out prayers and good vibes to the woman I wrote about in my last entry. She is still having a tough time dealing with the loss of her son, whilst trying to keep her energy and spirits up to cheer her little girl on. So far, her little chica is following Boxer's lead by kicking some serious ass in the NICU. Please continue to keep her and her family in your thoughts.

Secondly, I have a few more "handy tips" to add to the list I started a couple of entries back.

4) When a person who has experienced traumatic events is having a rough time, and calls you crying, DO NOT hang up on the person because you "don't want to hear it". Also, if someone is crying to you in person, do not walk away while saying "I do NOT believe in depression".

5) When you have twins, and you're chatting with another mother in the waiting room of a doctors office, and that mother mentions that their child was a twin, but sadly, their brother/sister did not survive, do NOT say "Believe me, you have it easier".

6) When a parent has lost an infant, DO NOT get annoyed when the parent is still having a hard time dealing with the sorrow/pain. DO NOT say "it's in the past". DO NOT say "It's been "x" amount of months, you need to move on". And DO NOT ask "when will you stop thinking about it?". Because the answer to THAT one should be fucking obvious: NEVER.

I'll have more tips for you in my next entry.

Moving forward.

Ms Boxer girl is continuing to kick ass in monumental ways. She is now up to a whopping 13 pounds 8 ounces, and is 24 inches long! Although she is still below the 5th percentile for her actual age {7 months}, she is in the 40th percentile for her adjusted age {which is now 4 months!}. She has made fabulous progress with her physical therapist, and can now hold her head up at a 90 degree angle while on her tummy, and can even do some "push-ups" before throwing a fit. She has not rolled over yet, but damnit, she is trying! She also has been VERY slow in reaching for objects, but she actually reached for a few this week {after her Mommy diligently tried to show her over and over again how to do it!}. She is still fisting her hands up, and shows a big delay in this area, but her PT has recommended an occupational therapist to come and see her and help her along {although she commended me for all my hard work...thanks!!! I LOVE Boxer's PT!}. Boxer also had her first visit with the developmental pediatrician, and it went VERY well. After a thorough exam, he told us that she is doing PHENOMENAL for a micro-preemie, and once again, we were commended for all our hard work. He told us that she does have weak trunk and delayed fine motor skills, but is only off by a month or so. However, she is WAY ahead in speech! He put her at a 6 month old level! Boxer never shuts the hell up, and tries to imitates EVERYTHING that I say to her. She responds to different voices and is EXTREMELY social. {like my BFF said, she believes that Boxer cannot wait to sit at the table and have coffee and a long-ass conversation, just like her mother}. She has also found her "scream" and discovered consonants and "razzing". She says "A goo" and "A gaa" and desperately tries to say "HI!" and "Hello" just like I say to her. She also is learning how to put her lips together to say "Mamamamamamama". She has learned what "kisses" means, and will actually pucker and smack her lips together! Of course, along with all these fun things, come the scary things..like her wicked temper {I sit here innocently batting my eyes, not comprehending where she would inherit such a trait}, her stubbornness {I continue to bat my eyes innocently} and her drama queen antics {eyes still fluttering away....}. This can make for some LONG nights and even LONGER days. She still is not very interested in toys, and would rather play with ME, which means my days revolve around coming up with new and exciting ways to entertain her. She also HATES to be restricted, so things like bumbos, bouncy seats, high chairs, exersaucers, etc, are almost useless for a period of time longer than 5 minutes. I'm still afraid to use the Bjorn {flashbacks of that awful fall!} so I'm usually carrying her around most of the day. The beginnings of teething also continue, which makes for increased temper tantrums and excessive wardrobe changes due to drooling and chewing. Her reflux is still as bad as it ever was, so I am normally covered in spit-up and curdled formula, as is Boxer {resulting in even MORE wardrobe changes..who thought I would need so many onesies!?} She has been fighting her bottle, usually batting it out of her mouth and punching it, so she can either talk, laugh, or scream. We just started feeding her some cereal in the morning {or PABLUM, as my parents like to call it. Because of their incessant use of the word PABLUM, I now call it the same thing}. She's taking to the Pablum well, and will eat about 1 teaspoon of either rice or oatmeal in the morning. She "wears" the rest of it. I am going to try Barley this week and see how she does.

Bottom line is, my little girl is a friekan miracle, an absolute treasure, and a pain in the ass all in one. And I love her more than anything!

The upcoming flu/RSV season has had me in a fit of paranoia for awhile now. That paranoia became more prominent this past week when her pedi informed me that New York State has made "cutbacks" with the synagis shots {Synagis shots are a vaccination to help protect preemies and high-risk babies from RSV}. Apparently, New York has decided that preemies born after 30 weeks are only "allowed" to get 3 shots {RSV shots are supposed to be given monthly, from October to April}, and those born under 30 weeks {like Daniella} MAY be allowed to get up to 5 with special "permission". And the shots won't be distributed until November.

What.the.fuck.

I have no idea why New York State is doing this, especially during what is being predicted as the "worst cold & flu season in a century". These asshats sitting in a fucking office building with suits on drinking goat-milk lattes make me want to vomit. I know..I JUST KNOW..that this has something to do with insurance, politics, and money. The fact that these dickheads want to CUT BACK on a vaccination that is meant to PROTECT babies with weakened immune systems proves that they REALLY.DONT.CARE.ABOUT.A.CHILDS.HEALTH. Especially since they did not give a VALID REASON as to why they were doing this. So, these goat-milk latte drinking fucktards should STOP trying to SHOVE the H1N1 vaccine down my throat..among other things...

Speaking of the H1N1 vaccine, Boxer will not be getting it. I do not trust it. I also, will not be getting it, as I have a weakened immune system myself. I will be getting the regular flu shot though, and so will Boxer, IF she proves not to be allergic to eggs. I have to mix in some eggs with her Pablum this week to see if she has a reaction or not. However, SB WILL be getting the H1N1 vaccine, as he rides the nasty-ass subways and buses that are crowded with the decay of human civilization on a daily basis. I'm a bit nervous about him getting it too.

As for me, I have been depressed, panicky, and...you guessed it...ALONE...since I last wrote. The amount of time I have spent ALONE in the past year is disgusting. And the reasons WHY I have been alone are disgusting. Seriously. What in the HELL is wrong with people? Friends...family...HELLO...WHERE ARE YOU!??? These people make it seem like it is a goddamn CHORE to come and see me, or Boxer for that matter. I have spent many hours/days/weeks crying over this. And the crying usually gets worse when I am given flimsy-ass excuses as to WHY nobody wants to come here. Give me a fucking break. Boxer could come up with a better excuse than these people. My friekan one-eyed CAT could up with better excuses. For a long time now, I have allowed this to hurt me. But I really DON'T WANT IT TO HURT ME ANYMORE. I somehow need to find my happy place, and chill out there. Even if Boxer and I are the ONLY people IN that happy place. So be it. Screw these people. I am sick and tired of BEGGING people to come and visit. And I am also sick and tired of people telling me to GO THERE when they know that I cannot for various reasons {too far of a ride for Boxer who still has apnea episodes ESPECIALLY in the car, they smoke in their house, etc etc}. And don't get me started on the LIES that spew out of people's mouths. Holy crap. If we bottled up all the LIES I have been told, we'd have enough to fill all the oceans on the earth, and the craters on the moon. Forgive me if you feel that my shack is BENEATH you. Forgive me if you think that visiting a beautiful child and her lonely mother is TOO MUCH HASSLE AND WORK. Forgive me while I tell you to go fuck yourself in the ear. UGH. It's amazing how much you realize people suck when it comes down to it. Whatever! Their loss, not mine. Boxer is beautiful and fun to hang out with, and I'm fucking cool too.

Speaking of things that piss me off, Boxer was baptized a few weeks ago. Let's just say that it did not go as planned, and once again, PEOPLE AND THEIR BULLSHIT ruined what should have been a special day for my daughter and I. Thanks a lot, PEOPLE. You have now carried over your lies, selfishness, and outright stupidity into a CHURCH. Give yourself a pat on the back as you rush to confession to make penance for your crap.

Oh, how I wish I could write the actual stories. Oh, how I wish. But I shall not. As I have respect for people, even when the TOTALLY and BLATANTLY disrespect me over & over again.

Damn I had a lot to say in this entry. And this entry probably sucked because it's pretty random..and all over the place...and hostile..!

Without further ado, here are some updated pics of my little Boxer. I think she's one of the most beautiful sights in the world. But I'm totally biased here....

Boxer wearing Mommy's entire 4 layered Christening outfit from the Middle Ages.. {or, early 1970s, to be exact}. She wasn't impressed with all the layers

Here she is wearing only the slip & the first layer of the dress

Sisterly love! The only time Boxer will cooperate fully while doing tummy time is when Juniper is there to cheer her on. She adores Juniper!

Til next time

Prayers/Good Vibes requested for a follower of this blog.

2009-08-22T22:26:00.006-04:00

I received some very sad news yesterday about a woman who has been following my blog, and basically using it as a guideline for her situation which was very similar to mine.

Quick back-story: A friend of mine on a charting website {FF} had emailed me asking if I could possibly give some hope and sound advice to a good friend of hers who was going through a difficult pregnancy. The situation was eerily similar to mine; IVF , boy/girl twins, pPROM, being told to terminate the pregnancy, etc. She was scared and didn't know what to do. I agreed to speak with the woman, and said I would try to give her some hope while at the same time being completely honest regarding the risks involved when forging ahead with a pregnancy such as this. Here is what I had written:

So sorry to hear about the trouble your friend is having. I know exactly how it feels to have doctor after doctor urging you to terminate without a good reason. It's always because of an "if". I have no problem with her emailing me...is she here on FF? Or do you need my private email? Is she in the hospital? She should be on strict bed rest and if she is at 24 weeks she should go directly into the hospital. I hope I can answer any questions she may have, and also give her a little bit of hope...remember, I was told that Boxer's chances of surviving were "less than 1%". And there she is, in my siggie. It was very hard to lose Angelo, and a Miss him every day, but he had NO FLUID AT ALL, starting at 13 weeks, so the fact that he was born alive and lived for an entire day does show that doctors are not always correct, as they insisted he could not grow without fluid, and would surely pass away in my womb. I'd love to talk to her. She has to be VERY careful now that she has has a pPROM; she could develop sepsis and lose her own life. I knew this, and kept a VERY close watch on my temp, cm, pains, etc. I kept a journal about all my symptoms and what my temp was every 4 hours. I also took extreme precautions to protect myself from developing any type of infection, period. So much to say....

My friend copied and pasted the above and sent it to the woman. In a strange twist of fate, this woman KNEW who I was, as she had researched pPROm and stumbled across my blog. She had read it from beginning to end, as did her entire family, and even had a list of questions set aside for "blog girl" that she was going to post as a comment. This blew my mind, and also made me feel an immediate connection. We emailed each other back and forth for a while, and I tried to be as supportive as I could. Then, for the past week or so, I became very busy and didn't check my email. Sadly, when I logged onto FF, my friend had sent me the bittersweet news. This woman {i do not want to give out her name as I do not have permission}, at exactly 28 weeks, gave birth to her twins. They weighed in at 2 pounds 2 ounces, and 1 pound 12 ounces {EXACTLY the birth weights of Boxer and Angel, except reversed as her boy weighed the 2 lb 2 oz}. Sadly, her son only lived for 10 hours {just like Angelo} and passed away in their arms. At this time, their little girl is fighting for her life in the NICU. And all fellow NICU moms know what a long, hard road this baby girl has ahead of her.

This woman was an absolute sweetheart, and it truly pains me that she is suffering like this. I cried when I read this news, and I immediately began to pray for her little girl to kick ass and take names in the NICU. I know that the outpouring of love and support I received from people following my story helped to not only keep me sane, but give me the strength to survive everything {and I shall forever be grateful to ALL of you for that}. Without you guys I may have crumbled. And I STILL look to you guys for love and support. And I am still in AWE at the wonderful kindness of "strangers". So, I ask you to PLEASE keep this woman and her little girl in your prayers {or send out good vibes to the universe, etc, whatever it is that you personally believe in} and also keep her beautiful son in your thoughts as he looks down on his family from above...

And to this woman and her family, if you are by chance reading this, please know that I am deeply sorry for your loss, and I pray that your little miracle grows healthy and big and strong!

When Angelo had passed, there were many songs I would sing about him and/or to him. This is one of those songs. I know that he welcomed a new friend into heaven, and they are up there with all the angel babies, watching over us.

And to my Angelo: Mommy loves you. And misses you every day. Fly on my sweet Angel.

A Long over-due update, and a handy list for readers!

2009-08-09T15:55:00.003-04:00

I know, I know. It's been way too long. I suck at updating. It is official. You may now crown me "The world's worst blogger"!

Moving ahead...

Before I get into the actual update, I felt the need to compile a list of "do's and don'ts" for those of you that follow this blog. I know that many of you do NOT need a list like this; you already have full knowledge of the difference between right and wrong. However, people such as "anonymous" {no, I haven't forgotten about his/her ass!} and other shitheads may need a handy guideline. The list is very LONG, so I will only post a few of them now, and the rest in my next update {which will hopefully be long before the year 2525 approaches}.

The first are FOR TOTAL AND COMPLETE FUCKTARDS:

1) DO NOT use your IF battle as an excuse to shun a close family member who battled IF also, just because they now have a baby.

2) DO NOT claim to have "tried really hard" to conceive a child, when you refused to take any medications that might make you "fat", and refused to do injections because it would "ruin your summer", and refused to do IVF even though you were covered by insurance for it, because you wanted to be able to drink alcohol by the pool.

3) DO NOT call a child who passed away a "THING", or refer to the child as "not a REAL baby".

4) DO NOT make other family members and friends feel too "guilty" to ask about a family member's child, just because it "offends" you. DO NOT scare them into never going to see the baby.

5) DO NOT miss a child's funeral because you were out partying the night before and have a hangover, and then use your status as a "college student" as an excuse as to why you missed the funeral, cannot handle your alcohol, and never, in a 6 month period, went to see your other cousin who survived.

These are for BIG ASS FUCKTARDS

1) When speaking with a woman who had twins, but only one survived, DO NOT say, "At least you got one".

2) When speaking with a woman who is a mom to a preemie, DO NOT tell them that their child is "no longer a preemie", just because they weigh over 10 pounds.

3) If a mother who has experienced a tragic event asks for help, OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN, and cries to you OVER AND OVER AND OVER again, and admits to feeling anxiety and depression OVER AND OVER AND OVER again, DO NOT let their cries fall on deaf ears, and then continuously ask "WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?" every time they look sad or anxious.

Ok. That's all for this entry.

Now onto important things. Like my Boxer girl.

Whenever I am feeling defeated, or weak, all I have to do is peek into Boxer's crib, and look at her face. This little girl KICKS ASS. She doesn't know what weakness is; she is a fucking survivor!! Although she is still battling some difficulties due to her premature birth, she is doing FANTASTIC for a 28 weeker. Seriously. At her check-up last week, she weighed in at 11 lbs 11 ozs, and measured 24 inches long!! Go Fatty McFatson! She is pretty much on target for her adjusted age of 3 months. She continues to have physical therapy twice a week, and although she doesn't WANT to lift her head, she CAN. Boxer is a stubborn female with a quick temper and a penchant for dramatics {it's almost as if she were adopted, for I have NO CLUE where she gets these traits from}. She can also be quite lazy when she has to do things that she is not interested in {that now clears up the thought of adoption, because SB is one lazy shit, so there is the reason for THAT trait!}. The physical therapist claims she is a bit behind in how HIGH she CAN raise her head, but we're working on it. She also told me that I will have my hands full with Boxer, due to her tantrums {yes, a 3 month adjusted preemie can throw a tantrum! The proof is sitting in my house right now}. She is also nowhere NEAR rolling over, and she still does not reach or grasp for toys. So we have a bit of work to do. But every now and then, when I pass her crib, I see her trying to do it on her own. We already have a Ms Independent on our hands!

Daniella does not like sleep, nor does she like to entertain herself for more than 5 minutes. No matter where I put her in the shack, she hates it, unless I am there talking to her, or I am carrying her around. She is one curious little cookie. She can't get enough of looking around, and she also never shuts up. I'm not kidding. She talks all the time, even in her sleep. She has mastered all the vowels, and is even coming VERY close to saying her first word, which will probably be "hi" or "hello" {or so I'm guessing}. She is also a MAJOR fan of Mommy acting like an idiot {which is easy for me to do}. This makes her laugh out loud. And she also adores me singing to her. She has 2 favorite songs and she will squeal in delight as soon as I begin to sing them. One of them is a drinking song for sailors, and the other is a theme song from a 70s show with 2 stoned hippies on swings. SHE.LOVES.THESE.SONGS. Which SB claims will turn her into a drunken hippie. HA! At least with the drinking song, I changed up some of the words... {for example "I had a little drink about an hour ago and it went right to my head" is cool, but for her, I say "formula" in lieu of "drink".}...

{Speaking of formula, may I also add in a little rant about moms who are FANATICAL about breast-feeding. Don't be an asshole and point fingers at me for not breast-feeding any longer. I pumped my poor, cracked, bleeding tits for 10 weeks to give my baby girl as many antibodies as I could. My body just gave up. And this does not mean my child will be dumb...yes, this has been said to me!!! Breast-feeding is great, but don't be an asshat about it}.

So, Daniella continues to be high-maintenance, which is why my entries are so far in-between. My life is all about being her entertainment. Plus, she is beginning to teethe. No teeth pooping through yet, but we have enough drool to fill the Atlantic Ocean, along with fussiness, screaming fits, and eating everything from her hands to her clothes. Add that in with her already over-the-top dramatics and you have one crazy baby on your hands.

Her reflux hasn't gotten any better, but thankfully, it hasn't gotten any worse. Also, we had a horrible scare with her a couple of weeks ago. We had put her in her carrier {which was a cheap imitation of the BJORN carrier} and, due to the cheapness, it broke open, causing her to fall out. She hit her head on the top of the crib, then on the bottom of the crib, and then fell flat on her back. It was fucking HORRIFYING. I was scared shitless for her. We rushed her to the pediatrician, and he said she looked ok {aside from a HUGE ASS bruise on the side of her face & head, and a lump}. I had to monitor her closely for 48 hours, and wake her up if she slept longer than 2 hours. She was also horrified and traumatized, and would lie in her crib, throwing her hands out as if to brace herself for a fall, and then SCREAM at the top of her lungs. I don't think I will forget that fall anytime in the near future, but she seems to have let it not bother her any longer, and is now enjoying her time in her new pricey BJORN carrier.

Another scary event was when we drove out to SB's parents house, which took about 2 hours. I didn't think she was ready for the trip, and unfortunately, I was correct. She had episodes about every 10 minutes in the car seat, so her monitor was constantly going off, which made me jump into the back seat in a panic throughout the entire ride there and the entire ride back. This did NOT help my panic disorder at all, and I have now banned all long car rides until she is completely off the monitor.

As for life in the shack, it sucks as bad, if not worse, than the last time I wrote. The ant invasion has continued, and has now spread to our make-shift living room. These little bastards are everywhere. They have taken up residence in my couches, for no reason whatsoever. I am not a fan of ants crawling on my baby, or on me for that matter. The shack is also WAY too small now, especially with Boxer accumulating more & more shit as time goes on. We're in the process of finding a new place.

And lastly, I am not doing too great {SHOCKER}. My panic disorder has gotten increasingly worse, and I am now also showing some signs of post-traumatic stress, as well as mild depression. I continuously have flashbacks of bad things. I have called every.single.psych.doctor in my plan, and NONE of them offer evening hours. Plus, most of them are not even accepting new patients. Being that NOBODY will babysit Boxer, I have been unable to get any therapy at all. And this goes for physical therapy as well. After months of bed rest and a major surgery, my body was thrown completely out of shape, and I have been unable to get back on track. Walking 2 blocks wipes me out. But I try to do a little bit of exercise every day, and I'm eating as healthy as I can. I'm still as fat as a beached whale though, which amazes me, since my calorie intake is under 1500. I guess it's old age. I'm living large. I heard on the news that JFK airport was beginning to re-route planes to my house, as my back is certainly large enough to land a 747 on. Also, while driving out to SB's parents house in the Hamptons that day, our car was chased by fishermen who shot harpoons at the window, because they believed to have seen a rare beached whale riding in the passenger side of our car.

I have much more to say, but this has already turned into a novel, and it should teach me NOT to let this much time pass in between entries.

And now, some updated pics of my Boxer Daniella

First, a comparison shot. Here is a picture of Boxer when she was still in the NICU. She is wearing a shirt, but it fit her like an evening gown. If you look all the way to the left, you can see her foot sticking out of the shirt. She was about 2 pounds here.

And here she is wearing the same shirt now with a pair of bloomers on. MIND-BLOWING!!!

Daniella TOTALLY not impressed with her first 4th of July!

Happy girl, laughing and talking with Mommy!

Til next time.

This post has taken an eon to publish...

2009-06-28T17:02:00.006-04:00

Ahhhh....at last, the sun shines in NYC....it has rained here for the entire month of June...each day just melted into the next....it was hard to differentiate between night & day at some points...endless raindrops falling to the floor, causing mold spores to sprout up through cracks in the pavement, and mushrooms to spring forth from my 2 x 4 patch of grass...there was a constant chill in the air, and a stench in my shack, as it literally flooded, ruining much of what was in my "storage area", aka the "basement".

Ok, I began this blog entry awhile ago. Last week? Week before? Tough to recall, since it is once again POURING as I write this. However, today it hasn't been as bad as the ENTIRE MONTH OF JUNE was! What a wash-out! As I mentioned before, my "basement" did flood, thus ruining several of Boxer's things, and mine as well. Lovely! When it rains, it pours huh? {ugh. I should smack myself for being so corny. I would have kicked my own ass in High School!}

This entry will be a tough one, as I'm not my usual self. I have been feeling so down, so low, and so ill lately, that I barely recognize my own sallow face in the mirror {sallow and FAT, that is. Holy hell with the fatness. Will it EVER go away? I don't even EAT! }

So first things first. The important stuff. Like Little Miss Boxer.

One word to describe this child. AMAZING.

She continues to kick ass in monumental ways. I tell you, this little girl is a friekan miraculous wonder! Her Fatty McFatson status continues on the upward trend; at her last check-up she is a whopping 9 pounds 2 ounces!! She is finally outgrowing her newborn clothes, and moving into 0-3! How fucking phenomenal is that!?? Her ROP has gone down to a stage one, and although it is technically still there, it appears to be working itself out. She is also making major improvements with her neck; she has physical therapy 2x a week and is beginning to move her head in BOTH directions without assistance! Woohoo! And although she despises tummy time, she has just started to lift her head up to an appropriate height! Way to go Boxer Girl!

Her reflux had actually gotten worse, so the NICU doctors had switched her medication from Zantac to Prevacid. Well, Prevacid usually works wonders for reflux, especially in preemies...however, not with Boxer. She became VERY ill from taking the medication; it actually made her WORSE. Projectile vomiting; gagging; tons of apnea episodes; constipation; constant screaming; it was a rough week to say the least. The Doctors refused to believe it was the Prevacid causing these symptoms. I knew better. {figured she either didn't tolerate the medication, or, it was not working AT ALL for her, since many of those symptoms are SEVERE reflux symptoms} I took her off it myself and within a week or so, she was back to "normal". Still has the reflux, but nothing NEAR what was happening to her on the Prevacid. {Poor baby had been so dehydrated while taking the Prevacid that we had to give her Pedialyte...and even THAT she puked}.

::::It is once again MANY days later, and I wonder if I shall EVER finish this entry....perhaps the lack of rain today is a sign that since the rain has finished, Dee will also finish her update::::

Hmm...now where the hell did I end off?? Oh yea, the Prevacid.

Since then, my little Boxer girl has continued to be her feisty self, and has also gained a bit more weight. As per her last doctor visit on 7/7, she is now a FAT FAT FAT 10 pounds 5 ounces! Holy Crap!! We are ecstatic!

And speaking of crap, she has been having some difficulties in that area. She goes from being the poop Queen, to the Queen of constipation. There is no in between. Either she is pooping 5x a day, or she doesn't poop for 5 days straight. I am not a fan of suppositories, and neither is she. But alas, we have had to use them here and there. Right now we have incorporated a slight mixture of 1 teaspoon brown sugar & 1 ounce of boiled water, mixed in with 2 of her feeds per day. It's helping..a little bit..at least we have some play-doh looking stuff appearing here and there..

Ok, enough of that shit.

Ms Boxer is also quite an insomniac. She hates to sleep. Seriously. I'm not kidding. All she wants to do is talk, kick, talk, kick, punch her fists, kick, talk. My father claims it always looks like she has the "heebie jeebies". I believe I mentioned this in my last post, although I cannot remember, for that was back in 1885 or something. I asked the NICU nurse about this and she said Boxer is most likely over-stimulated. Sometimes I believe it, and sometimes I do not, for even when I close the lights and take all her toys away, she is still going bonkers in her crib, with nothing there to stimulate her other than the wall. With the way she acts, I'm guessing these walls have a lot to say....she just keeps on talking! She loves to chat. I love the way she imitates me..she seems to be far-advanced in the speech area..or so I've been told. She has almost mastered imitating "hello". Not bad for 2 months 2 weeks adjusted huh? She babbles constantly. I honestly have NO IDEA where she gets THAT from....{see sarcasm dripping off your computer screen....}

She is still behind in a few things too, such as lifting her head. She did it for ne week, & then stopped. She just DOES NOT WANT TO DO IT! I know she has the ability..she is just not interested. And man, can she throw some AWESOME fits while the physical therapist attempts to do tummy time with her. She has got a TEMPER! Just like there is no in-between with her poops...there is no in-between with her moods. Either we are happy, laughing, talking & hyper...or we are pissed off, screaming, crying, and hyper. There is no down-time. Again, I honestly have NO IDEA where she gets THAT from either {more sarcasm dripping off your computer screen right now, you may need a bunch of buckets to collect it all at this point....}

She is also not too interested in toys. She will talk to them for a bit, but doesn't try to reach them or grab them. She seems more entertained by me. I am convinced that she believes me to be one big, giant, FAT, goofy toy for her to play with. Most of my day is spent trying to amuse her...{hence, why this entry has taken me a century to complete}.

As for life in the shack? Man does it SUCK! This place is so small, I'm sure most of you have cars that are bigger. It pains me that we do not have enough room for Boxer's things. Her play-gym takes up 3/4 of the shack. I could probably shower and watch her in the crib all at the same time if I wanted to. Hell, I could shower, watch her in the crib, clean the couch, and chat with the people walking to the bus stop all at the same time. It is THAT.SMALL. SB & & I have been trying to look for bigger places; however, I am convinced that all people selling houses, condo's or co-ops in the NYC area, are either totally insane, or the GREEDIEST LITTLE SHITS on the face of the planet. I'll try to be nice about it and just assume that they require hospitalization and a Thorazine drip. Sorry Mr. Nut-job, but I just don't think that your 450 square foot house with a fabulous view of the gas station is worth $800,000. {and don't get me started on the taxes!}.

We have looked into renting, but those people also need SERIOUS medication. Who comes UP with these "Final offers/asking prices"??? It's a joke I tell ya!

If it were up to me, I would leave NYC. Hell, I wonder why I ever came back! But SB doesn't want to leave, and even if he did, he claims he CANNOT leave, because the type of work he does is only available at a decent salary in NYC, or LA. And I'm SOOO not a fan of LA. So, in the shack we stay...{hmm..that rhymed!}

Now, returning back to the beginning of this entry {which I started when Grover Cleveland was still in office}, my mood has been that on the "down" side. I am depressed about many things; missing my son, of course, is first & foremost. The lack of visitors for Boxer is second. It pains me that nobody seems interested in even MEETING this beautiful little miracle. And my sister, who should be given awards for her selfishness, meanness, and stupidity. Other family members should also be given these awards. It fucking disgusts me. LONG STORY which I do not have the time, nor the energy, to talk about. I have also been depressed about my health, which NEVER seems to get any better. My body continues to fail me, and I am officially the Typhoid Mary of the 21st century.

So, before I forget, here are a few updated pics of Boxer girl. And, 2 of the memento pictures I received from "Now I lay me down to sleep" for Angelo. Those are the ones in Black and White.

Til next time.

Angelo's hand print & foot prints

A "card" from Angelo, to Mommy, Daddy & Daniella, with a lock of his hair

Boxer Girl posing for a picture!

About to throw a fit, 'cause she knows tummy time is next..but she looked so pretty!

.

There is a new Queen in Queens..

2009-06-09T17:59:00.003-04:00

So, once again, I have totally sucked at updating my blog. Believe you me, I tried. Every time I had a free moment I logged on and began to write..only to be distracted by projectile puke, or a hospital bill, etc etc. Even today, I had an entire entry just sitting in my congested little head, but never actually got the chance to let it all out. {Instead, Boxer let it all out by not only pooping all over herself, but all over me, and shooting it into my face. WOOHOO. Gotta love it!}

So, life in the shack has been hectic and tiring, but fun nonetheless. My malaria-infested body has continued to disappoint me with it's refusal to get better. Believe it or not, more problems have arose since last I wrote. It appears I will need that sinus surgery. Until then, I am to suffer. A LOT. Right now I am on antibiotic #4.9 billion, and it's ripping my belly apart. Between the frequent bathroom trips AND my never-ending sinus infection, I should just buy stock in Scott Tissues. Seriously. I can make myself rich in only a week! I also found out that pregnancy has DESTROYED my teeth. First off, {I'm not sure if I mentioned this before}, but while I was pregnant, my teeth "shifted". I now have a gap in between my 2 top front teeth {a la' Lauren Hutton} and a bunch of crooked teeth on the bottom {a la' white trash from the lowliest gutter}. I also have had pain when eating cold stuff, so I took myself to the dentist. After many x-rays and a bunch of gagging, it turns out that I need 7..yes, that is the number 7...root canals. Apparently, within a years time, my teeth rotted to shit. I got root canal #1 a week ago...FUN FUN...and I still have to get it capped AND get the other 6. This is going to not only cost me tons of pain, but tons of money as well, thus forcing me to reside in the shack for THAT much longer.

Ok, enough of my health crap. If I sit here and blog about my many ailments, there will be no room for the star of the show, which is Ms Boxer And damnit, she IS a star!

I'm telling you, I nicknamed my little princess PERFECTLY. This kid kicks serious ass. I stand in awe of her every day! She is fucking amazing. No other way to describe it. I don't care that her doctor claims her weight gain is "slow"; she has gained SO MUCH since she has been home! As of last Tuesday, she was 7 pounds 13 ounces! Hi, when she left the NICU she was barely 4 & 1/2 pounds! And she's gained even more since then {I can tell by how her clothes fit her and how heavy she feels in my arms} She is also now 21 inches long. She was only 16 inches when she came home, and 14 when she was born. So, she's growing up to be a tall & lean ass-kicking machine!

She does still have the reflux, which not only hurts her but hurts me too. Listening to her gasp for air and choke in her crib really breaks my heart. I wish it would go away! The doctor's claim she will have it for a lot longer, so all we can do is attempt to make it less painful for her, as there is no cure. She is still on the Zantac; however, like one of my readers said, I don't believe it's really helping her. The NICU nurse mentioned putting rice cereal in her bottles, but hasn't explained how to do it yet. So for now, I feed her slowly, burp her often, prop her up for at least 20-minutes after feeds, and put her crib mattress at a bit of an incline by shoving some books under one end. Since she still eats every 3 hours, all of this is a MAJOR pain in the ass. But I believe it helps. I have a wedge for her to sleep in as well, but because she moves around so much, she gets caught in it AND it moves her apnea monitor belt into positions that causes it to disconnect and set LOUD alarms off. No rest for the weary I tell ya! I haven't gotten more than 2 hours of sleep at a time since she came home. And that's not too often either. She is ONE ACTIVE BABY! She is no different outside the womb than she was IN the womb. She is constantly awake, alert, and kicking/punching. She is fascinated by everything you put in front of her, and is already reaching/grabbing for her favorite toys. She loves to play. I really think that she hates sleep. She fights it all the time. And she moves ALL OVER THE PLACE. I don't know how she gets from one end of the crib to the other, but she does. And in a different position. Left to right, up and down, she's all over the place. And when I put her on a blanket on the floor, she is out of control. She would put Jane Fonda to shame. Who needs her damn workout? Do the Boxer workout. I bet you'll burn more calories imitating her moves than you would burn climbing Mt. Everest. {And I'm sure this is another reason why her weight gain is so "slow"}.

She is also doing great in her physical therapy. Even though she despises tummy time, she has made good progress with her neck control, and with her Torticollis {She has a mild case of this; explanation from Wikipedia is "Torticollis, or "wry neck", is a condition in which the head is tilted towards one side, and the chin is elevated toward the opposite side". It it common in preemies, especially multiples. She hates the exercises for this also, but she is now beginning to turn her head in BOTH directions {Although she still favors her right side} Her ROP has also gone down to a stage one; this is FANTASTIC news, as we were very nervous when it wasn't improving.

And we now have some FUN things happening! Like social smiles! And cooing! It's fantastic! It makes up for ALL THE SLEEPLESS NIGHTS I ENDURE!! The first morning she smiled at me, I cried for an hour. No joking around. Waterworks ensued for an HOUR. I was so thrilled that she knew who I was..and LIKED me. Hell, she probably LOVES me. This made me so happy because I still feel like I am a fucking failure as a mother.

But that's another story altogether.

During all the sleepless nights, I stare at this little girl in awe. This perfect baby that, according to modern medical opinion, shouldn't even BE here. This pretty baby who defied all the odds in my belly, and grew so fabulously. This gorgeous little girl who spent 64 days hooked up to tubes, and machines, all alone in an incubator, with nobody to comfort her when she cried, or hold her when she was cold. Here she is. Laughing. Cooing. Smiling. Growing. Loving. LIVING!!! She is my fucking HERO, just like her brother. Her brother who I still think about ALL THE TIME.

Who am I to have deserved such COURAGEOUS and MIRACULOUS children!!???

I was so pleased to finally take Boxer to Angelo's grave this past weekend. Although his name isn't etched in the stone yet, his presence and spirit are GLOWING there. As soon as I put Boxer's carrier down in front of his stone, she smiled. A REAL smile. Not a gas one. The kind that lights up her face. She proceeded to watch me decorate his grave {we put a small sign with his name on it, and flowers, and flags, angels, etc} and I told her that her great-grandma was there too, taking care of her brother, and both were waving hello to her. It was a special and precious thing that I waited 4 months to do.

Well, there is much more to tell, but Boxer is stirring, and it's feeding time at the zoo for both her & her big sister Juniper. I will update again as soon as I can. For now, here are some recent pics of my Boxer girl!

Smiling for Mommy!!

All dressed up!!

Sisters!!!!

Til next time

Boy have I SUCKED at updating~

2009-05-18T21:43:00.004-04:00

Ok, first off I must ask my readers to forgive my ass...! Not only have things been ultra-hectic with Ms Boxer, but her mama has kept up the tradition of being sick 1.7 million times with strange & bizarre things. A quick recap of my fabulous health problems that have been plaguing me since Boxer came home...

A) A recurrent sinus infection that has wreaked havoc on my head. Both antibiotics and steroids have been useless and defenseless against this beast of an infection. And believe you me, I have been on a BUNCH of BOTH...which, in turn, have given me horrendous side effects {.but we will not get into that right now}. A MRI I had done {for another problem all-together} revealed that I have a condition called pan sinusitis. Basically this means that EVERY SINGLE SINUS CAVITY IN MY HEAD is either blocked or inflamed. Symptoms? Absolute MISERY. Treatments? Antibiotics and steroids. What to do if NEITHER of those treatments are successful? Surgery. What type of surgery? One in which they create NEW sinus passages to replace the fucked-up ones. How did I develop this? The general hypothesis is PREGNANCY!? Dee's thoughts on this problem? SONOFABITCH. Steps being taken at the moment to help relieve some of the pain? NONE. Reason? I am allergic to nasal sprays. I had a bad reaction to any and all steroids. And my luck just plain sucks!

2) Sudden numbness in my left arm, shooting up from my hand and into my shoulder. Pain in the armpit area. Constant tingling in extremities on the left side. I went to the neuro doctor, who had diagnosed me with a possible TIA {TIA =transient ischemic attack. This is a mini-stroke}. I flipped the HELL out. This is why I went for the MRI. Thankfully, the neuro doctor no longer thinks it was a TIA, but he did see something "questionable" on the MRI, and I now have to go for an ENG to determine what is wrong with the nerves on the left side of my body. Symptoms? Constant numbness and panic attacks that I am having a fucking stroke...especially when it happens while I am holding Boxer. Treatment? None. Next step? More testing. Steps being taken at the moment to help relieve the symptoms? Nothing. Dee's thoughts on this problem? SONOFABITCH

3) Other problems adding to the misery already described above? A bunch of cavities {dentist thinks they came from PREGNANCY...WHO KNEW Pregnancy could do all this??? I surely didn't!} and a root canal is in order. This has caused more pain to my already pain-ridden head from the sinus crap. Also, a horrible stabbing pain in my lower abdomen that shoots into my lower back. Nobody knows WHAT this is. And I'm almost afraid to look into it further. It does cause me to spend many hours in the bathroom. Which is a big problem when you have a clingy baby screaming to be held....

Ok, enough of my crap. I just wanted to give a brief round-up of all the shit I've been dealing with physically. It has caused me to have NO FREE TIME WHATSOEVER! Every time SB is home, I have to go to the doctor for testing or poking or probing. It has eaten away at all my spare time!!!!! GRRRRRRR. MAKE IT STOP!

Moving forward..

Miss Boxer is coming along fabulous. And although she doesn't LOOK like mommy, she certainly ACTS like Mommy. What a little DRAMA QUEEN! It's hysterical to watch her in action. She also has a HUGE HUGE temper. You should see her feet kicking and her fists punching in the air when something irks her.

Health-wise, she has had some preemie problems. The Reflux is still there, and the Zantac she was prescribed only helped her a tiny bit. My boobs decided to tell me to go screw myself, and refused to make any more milk. So she was put on formula only. That formula caused grief for all those involved. After listening to the doctor and keeping her on a formula that OBVIOUSLY made her sick {projectile vomiting, didn't poop in 3 weeks, colic, etc} I decided to call a friendly physician assistant at the NICU. She advised us to change the formula, which we did, and since then, things have improved. The poop monster from the NICU has returned, and the projectile vomiting has been reduced to just a lot of spit up. Ms Boxer is also being seen by a physical therapist because she is having issues with her neck. She is weak on the left side, and is always going to the right. This can cause major problems if it isn't corrected early. I have many exercises I have to do with her on a daily basis. So far, she is fighting me on it. She is also fighting the therapist on it. She is being a stubborn little girl, just like her mama. In this case, she needs to take after her Daddy, and just go with the flow, and do as she's told.

And, as always, Angelo has been on my mind, and in my thoughts, and in my heart. I love him so much, and I miss him so much. I see so much of him in Boxer's eyes. They would have looked so much alike......

I cannot get into this at the moment. It still cuts too deep.

There is so much more I have to tell, but the 15 minute slot I had is now gone, so I must end the update here. I promise to come back within the next few days as I plan on writing while sitting in doctor's offices because yes, you guessed it, between Boxer and I, the next 2 days are booked. We keep them NYC MD's in business. Frankly, it's pissing me off.

Should you be surprised at that? We all know how much I LOVE doctors {insert dripping sarcasm}

Please forgive me for bad grammar and/or spelling errors. I am on little sleep, as usual...!!!

And here are a few updated pics of our Boxing Drama Queen. She is now officially 6 pounds 9 ounces. BIG GIRL!!!!

After her bath, with her BFF, the BINKY!

Looking just like her Daddy!!!

This one was taken on my first Mother's Day {which I will detail in my next post, I promise! It was at home, with just Boxer & SB, but it was great!}. The shirt she is wearing was given to her by a dear friend of mine who also lost her twin boy. It says "My twin brother is an Angel in Heaven". By having her wear it on Mother's day, I knew that BOTH of my babies were with me for that special day!!!

Til next time

Quick update...

2009-04-22T11:18:00.003-04:00

I know I am VERY far behind on my updates; however, as usual, the strange luck of my life just continues to roll on into the future!

I have been on steroids and antibiotics to combat whatever fucking malaria it is that I caught. I'm still fighting it off. As I've said before, I feel like the monkey from the movie "Outbreak" is chillin outside the shack, re-infecting me on a daily basis.

Thankfully, my little Boxer girl did NOT catch her mama's malaria! She briefly came back to the shack, but within a few days, had to leave again. This time, it was due to the worst ant infestation I have ever witnessed. And it happened to be RIGHT where Boxer's crib is. I'm not kidding. SCORES of them, running around her bed. And her. I kept picturing the ants getting under her cute {and sore!} little butt, lifting her up, and carrying her away {the way they do in Tom & Jerry cartoons}. Then, I walked over to her and saw the ants crawling on her FACE. I threw a shit fit. She looked like one of the kids in the commercials for starving children with the flies all over their face. I flipped out and needed extra klonopin that day. So I had to vacate the shack and take her back to the House of OCD madness {my mother's} so that an exterminator could come in and massacre the ants. He destroyed 4 nests, one as large as a football, so I'm hoping that did the trick. Boxer & I are now back in the shack.

Other than the trips to the house of insanity, the only other trips we have taken have been to doctor's offices. Preemies have 1.3 billion doctors and problems. Boxer is no different. So far, everything is under control, except for her poop problem, and her HORRIBLE reflux, which has led her to be colic, which in turn has led both her and I to be miserable zombies who cry all the time and never sleep.

But throughout all of this craziness, Fatty McFatson has gained weight! She is now 5 pounds 8 ounces! Holy Fatness!!

As soon as we can get this reflux and colic under better control {she just started medication for it yesterday, and it takes awhile to be effective}, and as soon as I can shake the NYC malaria I have {I can see another steroid and antibiotic #3 in my near future}, and as soon as her butt and my head feel better, I shall give a MUCH better update. This one came to you from the house of the dead ants and the two girls who haven't slept more than a few hours in a few weeks.

For now, here are some pictures of Ms Boxer enjoying her shack!

First picture at home!!!

Mommy making Boxer look silly in her Easter outfit...

Ms Boxer laughing because she keeps Mommy up ALL day and ALL night!!

Til next time

Please keep up in your thoughts

2009-04-07T12:08:00.003-04:00

Just a very quick note. We had a joyous occasion last week when Ms Boxer came home. I was going to blog all about it. However, SB was sick with a sore throat, so I had to take care of her all by myself and had no time.

Well, now I have what I think is the flu.

I thought it was a sinus infection, and even went to the doctor yesterday to get antibiotics while SB watched her with a mask from afar. However, overnight, I began to have chills and aches, etc. My temp went from 99.2 to 99.7 to 100.2 in an hour. I feel awful. So I sent Ms Boxer to my parents house with SB, because our shack doesn't have a room for me to quarantine myself in. Our living room only has loofa doors separating it from the bedroom. There is a door from the bedroom to the kitchen but its not like I can stay on the stove. My parents are on the old side and can't care for her alone, so SB has to stay there, even though he still doesn't feel well, but at least he isn't running a fever. She also went to the doctor with SB & my dad this morning and only gained 3 ounces in a week, which is not good. So now she is 4 pounds 8 ounces.

I am fucking TERRIFIED that I have passed a flu, or virus, or RSV, to my Boxer girl. She is so little and frail, and I was the only one handling her for days. SB thinks I am just run down {no sleep AT ALL in 4 days due to Ms Boxer having colic and reflux, etc, PLUS the apnea monitor going off with ACTUAL episodes, which was fucking disturbing}. She has already stopped breathing a few times and needed us to remind her. Now I've exposed her to whatever is wrong with me. I'm shaking I am so scared. i don't know what to do but sit here, cry, drink Gatorade, keep taking my temp, and fall down on my knees to pray to God that my Boxer girl will NOT get sick and end up back in the NICU...or something even WORSE. I have cried in a ball on the floor where her pack and play was, begging the universe to PLEASE protect her. I refuse to leave the space where she was.

Now I regret even kissing her all the time and exposing her to my diseased body.

I can't fucking do anything right. I failed my son. And now I'm putting my daughter in danger. I hate my body.

Please keep her in your thoughts and pray to whomever it is you personally believe in, that she will NOT get sick, and will be healthy and back in my arms as soon as I'm better.

Thank you

She may have a reason to start singing a Motley Crue song soon...

2009-03-31T12:14:00.004-04:00

No, not "Girls Girls Girls". No, not "Dr. Feelgood". And no, not "Wild side" {thought that may be interesting!}

My little Boxer girl may be singing "Home sweet Home" this Thursday!!!

After 63 days in the NICU, Boxer has continued to kick ass. And even though she is still VERY petite {weighing in at 4 pounds 3 ounces} she is chilling out with the big boys in the step-down unit and fitting right in!

Life became even MORE hectic for us {believe it or not} once Ms Boxer was moved to the step-down unit. Her room houses 8 babies at a time, with only two nurses. BIG difference from her "suite" on the other side, which only had 2 babies in a room at a time, and one nurse. Since each baby is allowed to have 2 visitors at the "crib side", the step-down room is sometimes MORE packed than the F train at rush hour. We are shoved in there like sweaty sardines. This situation has caused me some grief, as it's very hard to try and learn how to breast-feed when there are 100 people in the room, and only a small screen around me. Ms Boxer and I are very "DUH" when it comes to this whole breast-feeding thing to begin with, and having "Mr. Smith" and his 12 year old son staring at my exposed tittie just makes it worse. I know that breast-feeding is "natural" and all, but I can GUARANTEE you that 12 year old Bobby doesn't see it that way. My milk is also drying up {we cannot figure out why!} so I may be giving Little Bobby a free show for nothing...

Speaking of milk, I must say that I try to avoid the Lactation nurses as much as possible. They have been trying to make me feel GUILTY because I asked for Ms. Daniella to be given a bottle of formula to see how she takes to it. They are like nazis with the breast milk. Excuse me Sergeant Boob Lady, but I have been pumping my poor, cracked, bleeding boobs for 2 months now, and it's not MY fault that my body is pretty much saying "Fuck you, these boobs are closed for business". I think it's awful that they try to make a nervous mom feel like a guilty failure because her body isn't fully cooperating. I already feel that way...hell, I couldn't save my son, and I had a preemie daughter. I think I've felt enough guilt, thank you very much. So, do as I ask, and see how my little girl takes to the formula, before I shove a damn pump "horn" in your face!!!! I need to be prepared damnit!

And speaking of milk AND horns, I have to comment on the FABULOUS pumping accommodations in the step-down area. The "pump room" is the place where I get to be grossed out whilst torturing my poor boobs on a daily basis. I don't know WHAT is wrong with the other breast-pumping moms in the NICU, but they need a HUGE lesson on how to be CLEAN. You would THINK that a MOM of a preemie or a sick baby would KNOW BETTER; but they clearly don't! I can't scrub enough with the sanitizing wipes; I have to back it up with alcohol swabs; sometimes I long for bleach; ANYTHING to take the dirt, grime, and curdled, SPLATTERED milk off of the pump, counter, chairs, walls, etc etc. It's fucking disgusting. Add in the fact that the room is the size of an old -school phone booth, with 3 broken "rockers" to sit on, and people walking in and out of it constantly to wash their hands, and it almost rivals the shower room situation from the "Ghetto General Hospital".

Ah....memories....

On a more somber note, there is something about the step-down area that is very sad. Aside from the fact that we are across the hall from where Angelo died {Massive props still go out to the NICU for moving Boxer out of that room for my own sanity!}, we have to be asked on a daily basis about our "Baby A". The room that Boxer is in seems to be a magnet for multiples. We have twins and triplets coming in and out of there. Boxer's bassinet has her first name on it in one area, but it also has our last name on it, and says "B" {Example: Pretend our surname is Jones. Her bassinet label says, JONES, "B"}. So, the other moms, dads, Aunts, Uncles, and grandparents always say "Oh, she's a twin! I guess that "A" must be home?". It pains me EVERY TIME I am asked this question. It also makes me sad to see how uncomfortable the person gets when I explain to them that "A" is not home, he is in heaven. They usually look away and/or put their head down in shame. I tell them not to feel bad; they didn't know what had happened; they were asking a legitimate question. I then go on to tell them that Angelo saved his sister, and is a hero to all of us. So, it's sad to be asked if he is home, but also is nice to be able to tell strangers what a great son and brother he was {and still is...we KNOW he is watching over our Boxer girl...}

{I won't deny that I have had to leave the room to shed tears on more than one occasion because someone asked that question. Oh, how I WISH that he were still with us...}

Moving forward...

Ms Boxr has still had some problems, even though she is kicking ass. Micro-preemies come equipped with health issues. She is still having some trouble breathing, although her episodes are now being self-corrected. Her weight gain is slow, even though her appetite is LARGE! She does have a reflux problem. Also, sometimes her belly measures too large and we have to skip a feeding. She also has ROP {Retinopathy of prematurity; this is something that can cause all types of eye problems, ranging from minor complications, to possible blindness}. Boxer's ROP is a stage 2. {I think I may have explained this in my last post?? Forgive me if I have said it twice..my brain is in a constant fog lately!}. She will have to follow-up with the eye doctor every 2 weeks once she is discharged. She will also have to follow-up with the NICU doctors, and her pediatrician, and about 17 other doctors. Basically, she will be in and out of doctors offices A LOT. The NICU is giving us an entire list of things we have to do for her, and doctors we have to take her to. They are also sending her home on an apnea monitor. This will alert us if she has an episode, so we can stimulate her if necessary. She will be on that for at least another month. She is NOT coming home on oxygen though, which is FABULOUS!! A nurse from the hospital will come and check up on her within 48 hours of her being home, and the monitor will record her progress on a computer chip, so the NICU doctors can determine how she is doing. We will also have a nurse from the state of NY come to our shack to examine her, and determine what type of "early intervention" she needs {this is offered to ALL micro preemies born in NYS}.

So, we are excited, and terrified, and exhausted, and sad, and happy, ALL AT THE SAME TIME! I haven't had a moment to let it actually sink in, as I am a walking zombie lately. On top of getting up every 3 hours to pump, I have to run back and forth to the hospital to spend time with Boxer, and feed her, etc etc, go shopping for things that she needs, set up the few things we have bought for her, go to the doctors for myself {I've been sick on and off, and STILL having a hard recovery from all the bedrest}, and still try to eat, poop, shower, etc etc.

Hell, I'm so tired I don't even know what I am saying.

One thing I would like to mention before I run off to the NICU, is that I am amazed by the people I have met on the internet. Sincerely. I have learned that alot of family and friends are not always there when you need them {although my father has broken his old, brittle back trying to help us..he REALLY needs to be given a "father of the year" AND a "Grandpa of the year" award. He is wonderful! That is why Boxer is named after him!}. Family and friends can disappear on you quicker than you'd ever believe. There are members of our "family" who have not even CALLED us! Or sent a card. Or even an email!! Some of them are on our facebook pages and can't even leave a damn comment! What the fuck??!!! Makes me SICK!!! So, the outpouring of comments I receive on this blog, and emails I've received on FF and on FB, AOL, etc, have blown me away, as well as gifts I've received in the mail from people who have never even met me in real life. All of you show that you care about Boxer. And Angelo. And SB. And me. Which is fucking outstanding. And proves that there are FABULOUS people in this world. You guys have helped me to NOT give up on humanity.

You guys prove that the world Boxer has fought so hard to be a part of, truly can be Beautiful. I am eternally grateful to YOU for that.

A couple of updated pics of our Boxer Girl

On her way to becoming a Fatty McFatson!!!

Catching up on her beauty sleep!!

Til Next time

Day #51 in the NICU, and she's still being my "Boxer Girl"! Edited

2009-03-19T23:19:00.010-04:00

I looked at the calendar 2 days ago and could not believe that it had been 7 weeks since I gave birth to my Angel boy and Boxer girl. Time flies when you're running back and forth to the NICU, still unpacking boxes in a 2 x 4 house, dealing with insensitive fucktard family members, and watching your beautiful little girl amaze & astound you on a daily basis!!

In the past week, Daniella has lived up to her nickname {once again!}. She has been boxing away and KICKING ASS!! I will tell you all about her fabulous improvements, as soon as I get the bad shit out of the way...which will be...me bitching about huge assholes in my life...I feel the need to get this off my chest...

***I have taken out this story, as I am actually embarrassed by it. I'm not going to give it another friekan thought. I will stick to the more positive things, since I have already 86'd the bitch who has been so nasty to me, and she can go scratch***

On that note, I want to give a HUGE HUG and MUCH LOVE to those of my friends both in real life {like Daniella's godmother to be} and on the net {like many of my IF sisters from FF} who were gracious enough to not only care about me, but also celebrate Daniella, and mourn Angelo, even though they battle infertility. You show the beauty in this world; words cannot express how much gratitude I have for you, and how in awe I am of your strength and inner beauty. I know from first-hand experience how difficult it is to hear about babies being born, and to look at belly pictures, and to shop for baby things. GOD BLESS YOU!

Now, onto happier things.

Ms Daniella has made major improvements in the past week. At first, we were having some troubles with getting her off the CPAP. She kept relapsing. Then one day, the doctor said he was going to "push her a bit". He kept the CPAP off. And we haven't looked back. She still has her episodes where she stops breathing and her heart rate and O2 levels drop; but nothing out of the ordinary. She is tolerating her feeds well, and has gone up on the amounts twice just in the past week. She is burping, pooping, peeing..all these lovely things that mean so much when you have a preemie. There have been some scary things too. Her belly has measured a bit big at times, which is a cause for concern with her digestion. But so far, it seems to be resolving itself. She has also been diagnosed with Retinopathy of prematurity at a stage 2. This is an eye disease very common in preemies born under 32 weeks. Depending on the stage, it can either dissolve on it's own, or lead to blindness. Those are the best and worst case scenarios. Of course, those are the only scenarios the doctors give you no matter WHAT they're discussing; they want you to hope for the best, and also SHIT YOUR PANTS about the worst. They have personally made the stock value on Depends undergarments SKYROCKET in my area...

She also is becoming a Fatty McFatson! As of yesterday, she is 3 pounds 10 ounces!!! To SB and I, she looks gargantuan. But compared to babies who were born at term, she still looks so TINY. I like to think of it as "dainty". Yesterday, we received the FABULOUS news that she was being moved to the step-down unit in the NICU! I was so excited when I called to check on her, and they told me she had gone over to the other unit. There was only one problem; she had been moved to the room where Angelo had died. {the hospital has done some revamping in the past month, and what used to be the Level 4 area of the NICU is now the step down area}. When they told me the room number, my heart fell to the floor and shattered. At first, I thought it may be comforting to know that she is in the room where his spirit lingers, and he will be by her side, protecting her. But then I thought about going into that room every day. And reliving the moment. And seeing him take his last breath. And his face as he looked up at me in his final minutes on Earth. And I began to tremble. The phone began to slip out of my hand. I couldn't speak for a minute or two. The nurse asked me if I was ok; I then requested that Daniella be moved to another room, and told her why. I will give the NICU props; they were more than accommodating. The nurse said she understood...and by that afternoon, Boxer was moved across the hall. So Angelo can still watch over her, but I won't have another nervous breakdown {which I believe I had a few days ago..more on that at another time..}. I know how hard it has been to pass that room on a daily basis...I cannot imagine what it would

be like to spend hours in that room on a daily basis. My eyes water with broken-hearted tears at the thought of it...

I still hold my little boy close to my heart, and think of him every day. I talk to Daniella about him all the time; sometimes I even feel like he's there with us; and I think she feels it too..she always has her eyes wide open when I speak of him. And I see him in her eyes....

There is much more to tell, but I have already babbled long enough, I feel like I haven't made ANY sense, and I also have a raging sinus infection, so I feel like crap. I can't go to see Daniella today or tomorrow due to the sinus infection, and that hurts me more than I can put into words...

So, as of right now, it looks like my Boxer girl will be home VERY soon..which is SOOO exciting..yet SOOO frightening. What if she has an episode and I'm asleep and I don't give her stimulation to remind her to breathe? What if I get sick and then get her sick and something really bad happens? What if she forgets to breathe while I'm feeding her and turns blue {like she has done many times} and I can't help her????

Ok enough of that, I'm scaring myself as usual. I'll end these thoughts with a FUNNY scary thought. Where in the HELL are we putting her? We have NOTHING! I just finished the registry the other day, and we haven't had time to go there and buy anything. I have a bunch of preemie clothes, a bouncy chair, and a shoe-box with the shoes missing from it. I'm thinking she will fit in the shoe-box. So that will be her bed. A shoe-box in a shack. A Boxer girl in a box! {and for those of you about to call social services..I'm not REALLY going to put her in a shoe-box!}

And now, some updated pictures of my Boxer girl. We can actually see her face! No CPAP! No tape!! No dents!! And you can also see how much of a difference ONE POUND makes in a preemie...compare the pictures from my last post to these!!

Fatty McFatson at 3 pounds 10 ounces:

Mommy & her miracle!

Til next time..

NICU + Panic attacks + feeling like a dork in Babies R us = partial story of my life

2009-03-11T00:03:00.006-04:00

Well, the title of this post gives it away. Add in these other factors: living in a shoebox, being unable to breathe through your nose and NOT knowing WHY, NYC traffic, insensitive remarks from strangers, no time to mourn your lost child, being ignored by family members, Vertigo, never-ending swelling, inability to fit into ANY shoes you own, constant paranoia, and NOT being able to see your baby when you want to. {there is more, but I don't want blogspot to crash from my overload of whining}. Next, imagine the stress and the pressure these things would cause a postpartum woman. Now, multiply that feeling by about 100 and you have a slight conception of where I'm at right now...

Things here have been very hectic to say the least. I feel as if there aren't enough hours in the day. I know this saying is very cliche' for new moms {and moms in general} but it rings even MORE true when you have to travel back & forth to a NICU just to SEE your baby. Every time I'm sitting in traffic, or SB & I are scouring the streets for a parking spot within 100 miles of the hospital, I can't help but want to punch the window for NOT having my beloved baby at home with me like "normal" moms do. And then I find myself becoming envious of those "normal" moms..you know, the ones who...oh, I don't know..took their babies HOME with them when they left the hospital? Then I start to become envious of EVERYTHING! Sex to get pregnant? Really!!! "Babymoons"? What in the HELL is that?? Leaving the house to just go for a WALK while you're pregnant? Wow! Buying things for baby while baby is still in your belly? Get outta here!! Having doctors tell you that you SHOULDN'T abort and that your baby will be beautiful? {no mention of them being a "monster"} Holy crap!

Ok, enough of that. I don't want to go on a tangent. Otherwise, this post will be about 80 pages long.

But my time is so very limited in the NICU, being that SB & I only have one car, and by the time he gets home from work and we drive in traffic to get to the hospital and then look for parking..it's almost 6PM. And visiting hours end at 7PM. The only days I get to spend more time there is when my father brings me earlier..today is not one of those days, and it makes me sad....

Ok, important things must be discussed now..such as Ms Daniella's progress.

Our little boxer girl continues on her "slow and steady" road. Although SB & I are thrilled by this, it also becomes quite frustrating at times. She is now on her 4th roommate; it is VERY hard to sit and watch all of these babies come and go, while our Boxer stays behind. Her nurses always tell me to focus on the positive, and I know that they're right, but it's SO hard to do that all the time. So right now, I will try to take their advice and tell you about all the fabulous improvements that Daniella has made; she has hit some very important milestones!

1) Daniella is now a Fatty McFatson. She weighs in at 3 pounds! You read that right! A whole 3 pounds! We are very proud of her weight gain; her little chubby arms and legs put a huge smile on my face, as does her fat belly and chipmunk cheeks. Of course, most people that see her say "Oh my, she's SOOOO tiny!" But to SB & I, she is HUGE!! {remember that her lowest weight was 1 pound 14 ounces}. She continues to make EPIC poops; they are a force to be reckoned with! One day when I was changing her diaper, she proceeded to poop for about 5 minutes {kudos to me for quick reflexes and putting up a barrier between her butt & her incubator---it could have been a horror show!} My poor father almost fainted and SB vacated the premises. But I told her what a good girl she was! Big poops AND weight gain? Fantastic!

2) The doctor's have made many attempts to take her off the CPAP with no success. She would do good for a little bit, and then have setbacks. Her episodes became frequent AND severe; she turned blue on more than one occasion {something I don't wish ANY mother to not only be TOLD about, but be WITNESS to}. Her heart rate would fall into the 50's {normal for her is about 140} and her O2 saturation levels would go down to 40 or so {they should stay above 90}. I was FRANTIC when I heard about these episodes; I was even MORE frantic and crazed when she had them while I was holding her. She stopped breathing, went absolutely still, and began to turn blue around the lips. I tried everything I could to stimulate her; I tickled her feet; I rubbed her back; I said her name: but nothing worked. The nurse had to come and take her from me. It took awhile before she began to breathe again. I was so frightened. I thought she was dead. I almost fainted. I had to run out of the room and try to collect myself. Nothing worked. I had to take extra klonopin after seeing that happen to my baby girl. {I still have nightmares}. After about a week or so, the doctor's decided to do a trial with her; 4 hours on CPAP, and 4 hours off. She did good, only had a couple of episodes, nothing near what she was having. The trial has now been moved to 6 hours on & 6 hours off. She is still struggling, but she's putting up a fight. Daniella HATES the CPAP. She throws a fit every time they put it back on her face. It tears my heart out to see her fight the nurses and scream {although I love to hear those lungs working!}. This "trial" has been going on for 2 days now, and I hope the upward trend continues...{please please please!}

3) During the hours she is off CPAP, the nurses tried to nipple her. And guess what? She did GREAT! The first time, she took 10 cc's of milk from the bottle and managed to breathe the entire time {a big problem for preemies is learning how to suck, swallow and breathe all at once}. The second time, she took even more. And the third time, she took 23 cc's! Amazing! She is so smart! We are so proud of her! Go Boxer!!! They even tried to see if she would latch onto my breast; she seemed to be a bit confused, but she did ATTEMPT to latch, which is just fantastic!

4) She's fucking beautiful. Enough said!! {Although I am biased!}

Every time I look at her, I cannot help but think back to all those doctors who tried to force me to abort her. What a bunch of fucking losers. To have written her off so easily. To have had NO faith whatsoever. What the hell!! They were just too LAZY to be bothered with her {or her brother, or me}. Too busy to take the extra time. Too jaded to give the extra care. ASSHOLES. My Daniella is gorgeous. And smart. And just plain PERFECT. It angers me when I think of how many women have been pressured into terminating a pPROM pregnancy. I know that there is high risk for infection, and I know that the chances are slim; but if handled correctly, the chance IS THERE damnit.

Ugh. I'm getting pissed now. Which reminds me...I saw the asshat "high-risk" OBG that delivered the babies {yes..he is listed as the one who delivered them. My OBG was only the "assistant"}. He was walking DIRECTLY NEXT TO ME on my way to the NICU one day. I kept staring at him, just waiting for him to acknowledge me; To say "hello"; ask how the baby is; offer congratulations and condolences; admit to being a moron who ignored me for 7 months. ANYTHING. A sentence in a foreign language would have been welcomed at this point. But the obnoxious bastard said NOTHING. He looked at me, and just kept on walking in his designer shoes. I wanted to fling a dirty diaper at his head. To make matters worse, he didn't even hold the door open for me. What a rude bastard. I hope he trips over his Prada shoes.

Speaking of rude bastards, let's discuss my COUSINS. My great Aunt & Uncle live in the upstairs portion of the shack. The other day, their daughter & granddaughter came to visit them. Please note: I have not heard from the daughter OR the granddaughter since the babies were born. I heard them speaking in the hallway right by my door. I threw on a shirt as quickly as possible {I had been pumping} fully expecting them to knock on the door to say hello, and at the very least, congratulate me on Daniella {if they didn't feel awkward, then also offer condolences on Angelo}. I stood close to the door, contemplating opening it before they could knock. I am so glad that I didn't open it. Because they NEVER knocked. All day long they walked back & forth past my door, bringing things up and down {the granddaughter, who is my age, is pregnant and has a 2 year old, so she was hauling a bunch of stuff up for the baby to play with, and her Mom was helping her out because she is pregnant} and not ONCE did they even PAUSE by my door. What a bunch of BITCHES. I couldn't BELIEVE it..damnit, you are FAMILY! What is wrong with you? You say NOTHING? Especially the cousin who is my age! After we grew up together AND I was there giving you gifts when your baby was born {granted it was only a check in the mail, but I lived in Vegas at the time}. You are MUTE? Shit, I forgave you for not calling. But this is unforgivable. It amazes me that some people are so cold, so heartless...ESPECIALLY when they are family! I guess she should hang out with the family member who told me to think of Angelo as, and I quote this, "A thing that the doctor's put in you to help you get pregnant and have Boxer at a decent gestation". What the fuck!? These people make me want to gouge my own eyes out because of their stupidity. Stabbing myself repeatedly with a dull object would be less painful than listening to this stupid crap OR being TOTALLY FUCKING IGNORED. I cannot believe that people do NOT know how to SPEAK to a woman who has lost her child. Or a woman who has a child FIGHTING for her life in the NICU.

Ok, if I continue to speak of this, I will pick up this letter opener sitting on the desk.

The thing that helps me to remember that not ALL of mankind sucks balls, is that there ARE very nice people in the world. Such as those of you that have followed this blog {aside from creepy bitchy stalker person}, other people I have met online, and other family members and friends. Oh yea and SB. I always forget about his ass. {just kidding honey!}. I have received many thoughtful letters, cards, gifts, and emails, that have moved me to tears, and made my day. I am still compiling a memory book/scrap book for Daniella to have; I am also still working on a memorial book/scrap book for Angelo. And I would like to once again thank those of you that have been so kind and generous. Truly. I am touched. {and a big THANK YOU to whomever is the "anonymous" person who somehow knew my name and sent me something off the registry...how selfless is that?!}

Speaking of wonderful people, an online friend of mine is doing the "March of Dimes march for babies" walk in Texas. The team that she put together is called "Walking for Angelo & Daniella", in honor of Daniella and in memory of Angelo. She is even making up personalized t-shirts for the walk. How fabulous is that? And how thoughtful! So, if you can, please sponsor them! They're walking for my babies, and ALL babies! I hope this link works.

Walking for Angelo and Daniella

I know I am forgetting many things, as it is now the next day {I got so tired I had to lay down last night in the middle of blogging}. My brain is still full of holes right now. I am going to update more often so I don't forget things!

And now, a couple of new pics of Daniella. I have a few videos of her that I am trying to get online so I can put them on here. I am VERY BAD at this, and still can't figure out how to get them on Youtube. I hope SB can help me out...{and speaking of SB..for those who love to hear WAY too much information, we DID get to ride the hobby horse after more than 8 months of not riding. I felt like a 37 year old virgin}

In this picture, she was about to throw a fit. She was punching and kicking. You can see her hand is in a fist, ready to box. Look how WIDE OPEN her eyes are! {we have a video of the actual fit that she threw! She can be very feisty!}

This picture is hilarious. The nurses took the CPAP off her one day, and I held her up {the stuff you see all over her face is tape and a nose cap that they use for the CPAP...} That's my huge head next to her little head. Due to the stalking bitch, I am too scared to put my entire face on the blog, as I don't know how many people are stalking and hating me {how AWFUL is that?} Anyhow, when I got home and uploaded the picture, I started cracking up. Daniella's hand {she is FAMOUS for her jazz hands!} was sticking out of the blanket, so it looks like she is waving. So here she is, saying "hello world! I'm here and ready to be fabulous!"

She was about 2 & 1/2 pounds in these pictures, so she's a bit bigger now. And even more beautiful. I can't wait until she no longer needs the CPAP so she is THAT much closer to coming home. We're shooting for April.

Til next time.

The ups and downs are making me dizzy..and could be stuffing up my nose???

2009-02-21T13:59:00.002-05:00

I come to you from my new pad, which is much smaller than the last one, but much more quiet. And also much more dusty. Which is SB's fault. But we won' t get into that on here...

My brain has continued to be scattered. I have been extremely panicky lately, but trying my best to keep my shit together. I have to.

I want to thank everybody for their heart-felt sentiments regarding Angelo, aka Angel. It means the world to me. Unfortunately, I have come to realize that people are VERY quick to forget he existed, and as his mom, this hurts a lot. So, coming online and reading all the wonderful things you guys have said about him, warms my heart on even the coldest of nights. It may sound crazy, but sometimes I feel as if I personally know ALL of you, and I truly believe that you are genuine in your comments. And yes, I do read ALL of my comments. {I see that many of you weren't sure}. I read them ALL. More than once.

Speaking of which, I know that many of you requested my address, etc, to send some stuff over to me. I feel a little wary about giving that information out on here {let's not forget Ms Cyber bully bitch...I'm sure she/he/IT is still lurking around, and I don't want her/his/IT'S psycho ass coming and stalking my house!}. I wish it didn't have to be this way!!! Not because I am a greedy ass woman who wants free cards and gifts..but because I am a HUMBLED woman who is TOUCHED by the fact that so many people care, AND, I have started a scrapbook/memory book for Daniella, so she can see how special she is, and how many people care about her!!! If anybody has any idea of how I can share my information with you, please let me know...

Now, onto important things. Like Ms "Boxing" Daniella.

Ms. Daniella continues to scare the crap out of me with her episodes. I know that they are considered "routine" and "normal" for a preemie; believe me, this has been drilled into my head 1000 times. However, I still find myself panicking when they happen; ESPECIALLY when it's the middle of the night, and I'm on the phone checking on her status, and I hear the bells going off in the background, and I ask if it's her....oh, you cannot IMAGINE the stress. It's worst when the nurse has to put me on hold and go over to nudge her {something they do to remind the babies to breathe}. I feel so fucking helpless. I want to jump through the phone and try to save her, hold her, protect her, hug her...DO SOMETHING. But I cannot. I'm sure that other NICU mom's know this feeling. It truly sucks. On the brighter side, her episodes have become less frequent. But still not frequent enough, as per the doctors. In fact, her overall progress has been very slow. Here is what she's been having problems with:

Weight Gain: She was born very small at 2 pounds 2 ounces. The first week of her life, she went down to 1 pound 14 ounces; this weight loss in the beginning is considered normal. She then went all the way up to 2 pounds 5 ounces. We were ecstatic! But the joy was short-lived, as she began to lose weight again. She went all the way back down to 2 pounds...which was below her birth weight. Her doctors were not happy, and neither was I. I knew just by LOOKING at her that she had gotten smaller. When it was confirmed, I cried my eyes out. They added some "milk fortifier" to my breast milk. It wasn't enough. So they also added some type of oil {I believe it to be a coconut oil}? for additional fat content. That has been working pretty well, and her weight had begun to climb, although she is still only a mere 2 pound 5 & 1/2 ounces. Every time I see her, I beg her to become a Fatty Mc Fatson like her Mommy & Daddy; I plead with her to NOT seek out Nicole Richie as her body-image icon. She normally looks at me {or in my direction} and then passes gas {I'm not kidding either!}. Guess she's telling me what she thinks of my "jokes".

Air Pressure: She is almost a month old, and remains on CPAP. The 2 times that the doctors attempted to wean her off the CPAP failed miserably. The first time she only lasted one hour before they immediately put her back on it. The second time she lasted about 14 hours, and it was a VERY rocky 14 hours. She was having episodes CONSTANTLY. Her heart rate and oxygen levels were falling to dangerous areas. It was fucking frightening. So, back onto CPAP she went. I had asked the doctors why she couldn't be weaned onto a nasal canula; I asked this because the CPAP is beginning to warp her poor little face {her nose is flattened, and her head is beginning to be shaped like a cone, etc}. Also, she HATES the CPAP. She is always trying to take it off, and whenever the nurses DO take it off for a few minutes she is SOOO HAPPY! Once they put it back on again, she's a raging lunatic. The doctors sympathized; however, they explained that oxygen was not her issue. Pressure is. She needs the added pressure into her lungs that the CPAP gives her. She can't seem to handle breathing without it. This upsets me. I really want to see my little girl progress AND get rid of the contraption that both she & I hate. But, for now, the CPAP must stay on her; it's for her own good. {and the doctors ASSURE me that her face will return to normal after a couple of weeks of being off the CPAP}

The NICU is a very stressful place, both for baby and for parents. I had thought I was prepared for the ride, but I was wrong. Many nights I cry myself to sleep, thinking about her in her incubator, wondering if she is breathing right, wanting SO BAD to be with her all the time. It breaks my heart to walk away every night, seeing her teeny tiny body all wrapped up in her blanket, tubes coming off her face, etc. I wish I could sleep on the damn floor of the NICU sometimes. Just to be close to her. Sometimes I feel that she has no clue I am her Mommy. I'm always afraid she is going to forget me. I'm also always afraid that she will become so used to her incubator, she won't want to leave it. I know that most of these thoughts seem ridiculous to people; however, it's how I feel. It's how the NICU makes me feel...

For the past week, I have felt even WORSE about it. Last Sunday, my nose began to stuff up really bad. Within a few hours, I couldn't breathe through either nostril. It was the most INSANE stuffy nose I have ever had. Fearing I had a cold, I didn't want to go to the NICU and infect Daniella {or any of the other babies for that matter}. So I stayed home for a few days. IT WAS HORRIBLE. My parents went to see her, and SB went to see her; but not her own mother. The guilt was overwhelming, even though I knew it was for her own good. I continuously cried, fearing that she would think the person who always sings to her has abandoned her. After a couple of days, my nose didn't clear, but I still didn't have any other cold symptoms. No sore throat, no cough, no nothing. Just a stuffed nose. After much thought, I went to the NICU fully intending to wear a mask. However, on the way there, I noticed my nose felt a bit better. In fact, the longer I stayed out of my house, the better I felt. I still wore a mask and refused to touch Daniella. But I couldn't deny that my nose felt better. Of course, as soon as I returned to the house, my nose stuffed back up again, and remained stuffed. So obviously this is allergies. I'm allergic to the dusty ol' shack with it's dusty ol' radiators and heating system from 1910. Also, I'm allergic to the dusty ass furniture and crap that SB moved from our old co-op to here. WITHOUT CLEANING OFF. Which would explain why I had a stuffy nose through most of my pregnancy. And yes, my nose is stuffed to all hell as I sit and type this. I guarantee it's from the dusty ass computer and desk and other crap next to it...when I get my hands on SB's neck....

Moving forward.

My recovery from the birth has been slow. I am STILL suffering from edema, although it is mild now. My scar hurts me from time to time {but I'm used to that, as this was NOT my first abdominal surgery}. And I am COMPLETELY OUT OF SHAPE. This is what 7 months of bed rest does to you. Walking for 10 minutes not only KICKS my fat ASS, it also HURTS my OUT OF SHAPE ass, legs, feet, etc. I cannot BELIEVE how much effort it takes for me to just WALK. And I am still forbidden to drive as per my doctor. I'm hoping this will change soon.

And when was the last time I rode the hobby horse with SB??......hmmm.....I do believe that most people were watching fireworks and going to bar-b-q's that day....

I can't WAIT for the green light on the hobby horse. That is, if my out of shape ass can handle it.

On a more somber note, I still find myself aching for my little boy. I still think of him all the time, and miss him more than I can explain. I hate that people are "forgetting" him. I also hate that I have NOBODY to turn to when I need to talk about him. People want to "move past it". Or, they cannot handle the intensity of my sorrow. Or they just don't give a shit. I'm not sure. What I DO know is that many a day & night pass, where I feel that I am standing alone in a cold and dark forest, surrounded by shadows of what could have been {my little boy and girl together, both of them ALIVE, healthy, growing up, having Mommy love them...} and images of what my reality is. {I see his face. I see his eyes. I feel his touch. But he's not there.} Whenever I DO mention even a FRACTION of these emotions, people tell me that I should be GRATEFUL that I have Daniella, and that I need to move past the loss of my son. I AM VERY grateful for my daughter; I love her more than life itself. And I am also grateful that Angelo held on as long as he could, so that she could be born with a chance! But that doesn't mean I don't have a piece of my heart missing; it doesn't mean I am not a mother grieving for her lost child.

Here come the tears now, to accompany the stuffed-up nose...

Going on to a lighter subject...

I have registered with Babies r us online; however, I have no fucking clue what I need. I had asked a bunch of women on FF a while ago for advice; but even with that advice, I feel like a virgin on prom night when it comes to this crap. I have the basics down {I think} but there are SOOOO many different "types" or "styles", etc. And about 1.3 million brands of each thing. I'm so confused!!!!! After leaving the NICU one night, my Dad & Mom took me to the store itself. I stood there like an asshole, with my mouth open. My parents tried to help me out, but since they were both born while Abraham Lincoln was still in office, their help was limited to cradles, cribs, and sheets. {which I still didn't pick out!}. I got dizzy while in the store {due to my out-of-shape status} and had to sit down to breathe. I was very relaxed where I sat. The pregnant woman next to me commented on how dizzy she was too, and asked me when I was due. I told her I had already had the baby. She just stared at me. I sighed and mentioned how comfortable the chair was She then educated me by letting me know I was sitting on something called a Glider, and that I should get one. I made a mental note to add that to the short list of things I KNOW I need..

Hey, at least I have a couple of blankets and some clothes now. I'm getting there!!!!!!...

Here are some recent pics of my little Boxer

Sleeping while wrapped up like a burrito. She loves to be wrapped up like this!!

This is her snoozing next to her pacifier. Please note that the pacifier is as big as her head!!!

Mommy snuggling with Daniella

Til next time...

He's in good hands now....I have to keep telling myself this...

2009-02-12T18:32:00.004-05:00

Honestly, I don't even remember how long it has been since I last wrote an update. But I'm sure it's been awhile.

Things have been crazy. My emotions have been scattered. My thoughts have been scattered. And due to the move {that couldn't have come at a WORSE time}, my clothes and house have been scattered. Add in the elephantitis of the lower body, and you have a chic with Swiss cheese for brains.

The wind is howling outside right now in NYC, and I can't help but think of my little Angelo, in the cold, cold ground. This breaks my heart. I keep reminding myself that he is in good hands; he's buried in the same plot as his maternal great-grandma and my godfather, and his paternal great-grandpa is right next to him. I know they are holding him close during this bitter cold. He was also buried in a warm and cozy outfit {which was sent to me by a wonderful and caring person from the internet}. But still, I find myself wanting to go throw myself on his grave and hold him close and shield him from the piercing wind....

His funeral was this past Saturday, 2/7. Although it was extremely sad, it was also moving and beautiful. I was touched by the amount of people that turned up for the funeral. The little chapel in the cemetery was packed. I held myself up as best as I could; it was a VERY cold morning, and the entire graveyard was covered in snow. I was wearing slippers due to my enormous feet that couldn't fit into anything else. I was also unable to stand for too long, thanks to the edema. But I gained strength from somewhere, as I had to see my little boy to his resting place. I had written a letter to him that I wanted to read at his service; I was unable to compose myself to get up and read it. Therefore, SB did it for me {although he broke down through most of it}. My father in-law also made a speech, and my mom & dad had written him a poem. I cried throughout the entire service. I then walked across the cold, wet snow in my soaked slippers and watched as his little casket was put in the ground. It was the second hardest day of my life; the first, being the day I watched him take his last breath.... After we laid him to rest, the day started to get warmer; the sun started to come out; the snow & ice began to melt a bit; and my dad called me to point all of this out. He believed it was a sign that he is now safe and sound in heaven, being the Angel that he is.

I wish someone could promise me he is warm tonight....

As for my little Boxer girl, she has been doing as best as she can. Her "episodes" {times when she forgets to breathe, thus making her heartbeat and oxygen levels go down to dangerous levels} HAD eased up for a bit, but have since made a scary comeback. The nurses continue to tell me that this is VERY normal for a micro-preemie; however, it is NOT normal for a panic-ridden Mommy. To watch these episodes is FRIGHTENING. Sometimes she corrects them herself; other times, the nurses have to pat her and/or shake her a bit to get her breathing again. SB has to pat me too, because I also hold my breath, scared shitless of what will happen next.

She had also been diagnosed with a heart murmur, which is called Preemie PDA {PDA = patent ductus arteriosus. Patent mean "open". The ductus arteriosus is a blood vessel connecting the main vessel leading to the lungs (pulmonary artery) to the main vessel of the body (aorta) }. She was given medication for this, and it seems to have cleared up, although we have been warned that it can come back at any time. If it does, she will be given the medication again, and if it still doesn't work 100%, she will need minor surgery. But so far, it seems to have resolved. SB & I are very thankful for this.

I have been terrified of everything. Even though fellow NICU mom's had warned me that the NICU is a roller-coaster ride, and there will be good days and bad days, I still find myself feeling paranoid and helpless. I want to do so much for my little girl, but I can't. The best thing I have done for her is to use a breast pump and feed her breast milk. She had started out on only 1cc of milk every 3 hours; today, she is on 15cc's! She is a big girl now!! When she was born, she was 2 pounds 2 ounces; after birth, she went down to 1 pound 14 ounces {this is common when babies are born}. As of today, she is 2 pounds 4 ounces. We are very proud of her! We are also very proud of her enormous poops! They are becoming legendary at the NICU; one of her nurses described them as loud, smelly, and huge! GOOD GIRL! We like to know that all of her insides are working properly. Now, she just needs to ease up on how BIG the poops are, so she can gain a little bit more weight!

She is still on her CPAP, and goes back and forth between room air and oxygen.

I have gotten to hold her a few times. They allow me to do what is called a "kangaroo hold". It is very sweet. Basically, I wear a shirt that can zip up & down; I zip down, and they lay her on my chest, so we are skin to skin; then, we zip up the shirt so she is in a pouch. We also put a blanket on her. The first time I did this I was SOOOO nervous; she is so tiny, and she has all this equipment strapped to her. I was so nervous that I would knock one of her lines loose, or hurt her in some way. She wasn't nervous at all. She went right to sleep. She was comfy cozy. Then she had an episode on me and I almost fainted. However, the nurses have since showed me how to "remind" her to breathe when I'm holding her. I still panic when it happens, but nothing like the first time.

She's my little miracle!!!!

Yesterday was my 37th birthday {Holy shit...where the HELL did the last 20 or so years go?} and I totally forgot about it {until I logged onto Facebook and saw all the "Happy Birthday's!}. It was more important to me that it was Daniella's 2 week birthday!! WOOHOO!!!

Ok, my head is spinning, my legs and feet are "swishing" {I can FEEL the water moving around in there...NASTY!}, and I have no idea if this post made any sense or not. I have also decided that it is time for me to register for Daniella, and start picking out some things for her. I feel so unprepared!! I'm glad my mom bought her 2 blankets so I was able to get them over to the NICU; all the other babies have their own "things" in their incubators, and she was still using the hospital stuff. Now she has her own cute little blankets! Makes me feel like I am doing something NICE for her. God knows, she deserves it. It was a birthday gift for her.

The doctor's continuously remind me that she has a long, hard road ahead of her, and that anything can happen at any time. Therefore, I appreciate the continued support, prayers, and well wishes from ALL of you. She needs them, WE need them, so keep them coming..

And now, a few pics of our "boxer" Daniella...

Hello!!!!!!!!!!

Pretty Girl!!!!!

Mommy & Daniella!!!!

Quick Update

2009-02-04T13:27:00.001-05:00

I'm using my Dad's computer to give an update

I have had a difficult recovery from the c-section, and was released from the hospital on the day that we were moving. I have been in a basement with no heat or hot water for 2 days now. It's been rough.

Daniella is hanging in there. She is still having "episodes" {where she stops breathing} but nothing too bad. She has also been diagnosed with PDA {this means that a vavle in her heart has not closed properly and is cauing a murmur} She is now on medication to help the valve close. If it doesn't work she may need surgery. I have not been able to go see her as much as I would like due to the circumstances.

Angelo's funeral is set for this Saturday 2/7.

I have been in a mix of of emotions with everything that is going on. I have no idea if I'm handling this well or not.

I will check back in later today or tomorrow

Thanks for your continued prayers and support. Please keep them coming so Daniella can pull through what she has to...

Emotions all over the place...

2009-01-31T14:19:00.003-05:00

First off, I just want to thank each and every one of you that has supported me throughout this journey, and who gave heartfelt thanks and condolences on the birth of my beautiful babies. It means the world to me.

This post may be brief, as I am still quite ill. I developed the dreaded infection {that I worked so hard to avoid all those months!} after I gave birth.

First off, I must complain in natural Dee fashion. This ghetto-ass hospital has failed me on SOOO many levels. And how my labor was handled just put it OVER the top. The fact that I was IGNORED for hours on end by the asshole night nurses & manager is just fucking negligence. Plain and simple. I may have made off-hand remarks about drafty windows and such, but I NEVER complained about pain and bleeding and contractions. In fact, most of my regular nurses {who have come to visit me since I gave birth} said they used to barge into my room just to make sure I was still alive, since I never rang the call bell. I kid you not. The night that I went into labor, I had a dipshit LAZY bitch as my nurse, and the only other nurse on the floor was an oompa loompa look-alike LAZY bitch who I had once before and never wanted again, since she kept telling me Boxer's heart rate was bad, when it wasn't even her heart rate, and she tried to stick some IV in me, when I didn't need one. With no gloves. With her dirty hands. And believe me, she was DIRTY.

Their faces will be in my nightmares forever.

I was so sick that evening, everything was coming out of every end of me. Oompa Loompa came in to give me an IV {And guess what? Bitch didn't wear gloves again} for fluids and she complained about it the whole time. Nobody wanted to empty my numerous puke pots which were filled to the brim. And NOBODY wanted to put me on the monitor. As the night progressed, I began to have the most GOD AWFUL back pains. I'm talking PAIN. Like I have never felt. Yes, Double me OVER pain. DEATH PAINS. Whenever the pain would come, I would be SCREAMING at the top of my lungs. Nobody cared. {and just to let you know, my room was DIRECTLY across from the nurses station and my door was WIDE OPEN the whole time}. I noticed that the pains were getting closer together and more intense. I kept calling my mother on the phone, crying and asking if I were dying {As I was getting the pains, AND still puking and pooping and everything else under the sun}. It got to the point where my DAD called the nurses station and asked "WHY AM I LISTENING TO MY DAUGHTER SCREAM IN PAIN AND NOBODY IS GOING INTO HER ROOM?". He was told "She is being managed". I kept calling the nurse in, asking to be put on the monitor, begging for someone to call the doctor, etc. She kept INSISTING that I was NOT having contractions and there was nothing that anybody could do. She refused to put me on the monitor and claimed that she had already spoken to the resident.

Hello. It's called BACK LABOR YOU FRIEKN ASSHOLE.

{and PS..we just found out yesterday that MY OBG's PARTNER was HERE THAT NIGHT and NOBODY CONTACTED HIM until it was too LATE. He was as MAD as I AM}

Also, all night, whenever either of them would come in, they would say in an annoyed voice "What is it NOW? What is the PROBLEM? You have to just ride it OUT. We can't help you". This was after the 5.4 billion times that I told them it WASN"T A FUCKING STOMACH VIRUS

I kept trying to get in touch with SB, but it was impossible. I started freaking out when I began to bleed red. I called the nurse to tell her and she said it was "irritation from vomiting". HUH? The resident finally came into my room at 5AM. I explained everything; the sickness, the pain {which was now coming every 8 minutes}, the bleeding, etc. She took my pressure, which was OFF the charts, and my pulse was 163. Yes,163. She said there was nothing wrong but she would check.

I never saw her again.

The pains got closer and closer and worse and worse. By the time the day nurses came in {at 7AM} I was in hell. I sat in a pool of my own vomit and feces, CLINGING to the side of my bed SCREAMING in pain. The day nurses came in, felt my tummy, and said, "THIS GIRL IS IN LABOR. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"

The next 1/2 hour was a blur

Suddenly I was being thrown onto a gurney and being rushed to another floor. I was in so much pain I couldn't see straight, PLUS, I was alone and terrified. As soon as I got downstairs they checked me internally and I was already dilated to something like 7 or 8. INSANITY. Both babies were breech. One of the high risk doctors who had refused to treat me came in and said the babies HAD to be delivered right then and there, so I was wheeled in for an emergency c-section. I WAS SO SCARED AND ANGRY AND EVERYTHING ELSE YOU CAN THINK OF.

I was put under general anesthesia due to the severity of the situation. I awoke by myself in recovery and had no clue what had just happened.

Thankfully, my regular OBG walked in. He had been on rounds and was paged so he could assist with the birth {this was very important to me}. He told me both babies were alive and had been rushed to the NICU.

I started to hysterically cry. About an hour later, SB walked in.

That's the wonderful birth story in a nutshell. Now, tell me AGAIN how people like ME are "KNOW IT ALL PATIENTS" who wouldn't be happy ANYWHERE? TELL ME THIS AGAIN WHILE I FILING A COMPLAINT THAT IS JUSTLY DESERVED.

Moving forward.

My baby boy Angelo lived for about 11 hours, he fought so hard & was determined to experience life for as long as he could. I was HOPING that he gave the middle finger to that high-risk doctor when he came out and was actually trying to breath. I am confident that he did, as he was my son.

I was amazed by him, in awe of him, and in love with him, without ever actually seeing him. Just knowing he was ALIVE? WOW!!! However, I developed 103 fever and wasn't able to get to the NICU. I never saw my Boxer Daniella that day either. I couldn't, due to the infection.

But that evening we got the dreaded call. Angelo was beginning to fail.

I was given special permission to go to a certain area and say goodbye to my son who will FOREVER be the BRAVEST person I had ever known. And beautiful. Did I mention beautiful? Because he was. FUCK those doctors who said he would be ugly. So his feet were backwards. SO WHAT? He was PERFECT. With a full head of hair, and cute little eyes, and...

I can't bear to think about it.

Anyhow, a nurse wheeled me down COVERED in ice packs so that I could hold him while he passed. Once down there, they took him off the ventilators and gave him to me. I immediately began to speak to him, and say all the things to him I would say when he was in my belly. He responded. He opened his eye and held onto my pinky.

It was the most precious thing I have ever experienced.

I told him how much Mommy and Daddy loved him, and how special and beautiful he was, and how HONORED we were to have had him share his LIFE with us. I thanked him for allowing us to know him. I thanked him for saving his sister. I thanked him for showing me what real love is all about. I told him it was ok to go now; he could go to heaven, where he would be able to breathe, and move around as much as he wanted. I told him my grandma was waiting for him. I told him there would be no more pain.

He listened to everything I said. He never took his eye off me.

He lived for 15 or so minutes even without the ventilator.

I gave him to SB so he could hear Daddy. I still kept talking to him. I watched him begin to gasp for air. I thought I would die. I recited him a touching poem I had seen on some body's webpage; a poem I used to say to him in the womb.

He then passed away.

I can barely see right now, I am crying so hard. I just wanted to share that with everyone. It is very hard to watch your child die. IT IS UNBEARABLE. Unfortunately, many parents in this world have had to do this.

Now you know the intimate details of one.

I was immediately wheeled back to my room due to my infection and hooked up to 800 IV's.

SB spent time with Daniella. I couldn't. It tore my heart apart.

So...onto the status update.

Our little Boxer Daniella is still fighting; however, she is beginning to get tired. She is having several "episodes". This means that she is "forgetting" how to breathe. We were told this is quite common with micro preemies; however, she is not correcting it herself, which is what she should be doing. Therefore, she may be put back on a ventilator shortly. I was down there with her today, dropping off some milk. Watching these episodes is SCARY. I panic every time.

Yesterday, she was under bili lights all day. She looked like she LOVED it. And, they did the job.

Her scans have shown no brain bleeds. All her bloodwork has been good. She's just having the problem remembering to breathe.

Once again, I ask for your prayers.

I know that I THOUHT I was prepared for the NICU, but I am not. The whole things scares the shit out of me. And I would give ANYTHING to be able to hold and touch my little girl. My miracle. The sister that Angelo saved. But I can't. I am able to hold her foot or her hand and that is it. It amazes me that her heart rate goes up when she hears my voice.

I LOVE HER SO MUCH

And I am also terrified for her.

Ok, I thought this would be short but it's been VERY long. I can't believe I had the energy to write all that.

Again, thank you so much for your prayers and support and I beg you to PLEASE keep them coming. Boxer Daniella has a LONG HARD road ahead of her, as do SB and I. I am hoping that the love and support I receive from my readers continues to lift us up throughout the coming months.

Also, just to ease everybody's mind, the Children's hospital that Daniella is in is FANTASTIC! It is on the same campus as the ghetto hospital, but TOTALLY SEPERATE and one of the only other things aside from my OBG that made me stay with the crappy hospital for myself. I knew the babies would be in great hands.

And here are a few photos. Not too many right now.

This was Angelo holding onto Mommy's finger while he was still with her on Earth:

Holding Daddy's hand

Daniella's feet!! How perfect!!! The feet that used to kick the crap out of me!!

Daniella's first photo op!!

THEY'RE HERE!!!

2009-01-28T13:32:00.004-05:00

Hello everyone... this is Donna's husband (SB to all you faithful followers of this blog). I'm thrilled to inform all of you of the birth of our babies, Daniella Angela (Boxer) and Angelo Gabriel (Angel)!! I'll do my best to recount how her labor and delivery went. I apologize in advance because I'm not as talented of a writer as Donna, so this won't be nearly as witty as her usual posts are.

Donna's labor began last night, 1/27, at about 7:30pm. She began vomiting profusely, had diarrhea and abdominal pains. Her moronic, ding-bat, incompetent nurse told her she probably has a stomach virus and gave her some anti-nausea meds. After a few hours of vomiting, etc., she told the nurse she felt like she was having contractions. Moron nurse put her on the monitor and after a 1/2 hour told her that they were not contractions and abdominal pains were from all the vomiting. She told us she spoke with the resident doctor on duty and she confirmed that it must be a stomach virus and that there was nothing that can be done for her except to keep her on fluids and anti-nausea meds every 4 hours. This was at about 1am. After hearing this, I decided to go home because I had to work at 6am and it seemed that there were no contractions and nothing that could be done about the stomach virus.... BAD DECISION ON MY PART! After I left, Donna's abdominal pains got worse and worse until she was screaming and writhing in pain. The moron nurse called the moron resident who came to her room and again told her she had a stomach virus and the pains were resulting from the constant vomiting. Both the moron nurse and moron resident told her to she had to deal with the pain because there was nothing that could be done. They then proceeded to ignore her for the rest of the night! She was screaming in agonizing pain and no one helped her! I was home sleeping and no one called me! When the day shift nurses came in at 7am... the competent nurses... the immediately realized she was in labor and brought her down to labor and delivery. Her OBG was called and they performed a c-section on her. The babies were born at 7:52am (Angelo) and 7:53am (Daniella). I arrived at the hospital at about 8:45am after braving the subway back to Queens and then a snowstorm while driving to the hospital. Daniella was 2lbs 2oz. and Angelo was 1lb 12oz. Daniella is doing well! She's breathing on her own, which is a big accomplishment, and her color and activity is good. Our little Angelo had to be put on a ventilator as his lungs were too under-developed and he could not breathe on his own. Angelo fought the good fight for as long as he could, but he finally passed at about 5:45pm :-( The neonatal doctor told us when the end was near so Donna and I were able to be with him until he passed. It was very emotional and sad, but we're glad we were able to be with our son in his final moments... happy that we could thank him for saving his sister. He truly is an Angel!

Donna is resting comfortably right now. She's doing well and she probably be in the hospital for at least 4 days. I'm sure the next update will be by her. We want to thank all of you for all your prayers and support, they really did help us! God bless you all!

-SB

Dear Anonymous & her cyber-bullying crap.....

2009-01-26T12:11:00.005-05:00

Please find someone else to bother. Your comments are ridiculous.

For your information, I already KNOW what the staff and patients say about me, and you know what? I LAUGH ABOUT IT because I have a sense of humor, something you are SERIOUSLY lacking.

You want to know what is written on my door? "Girl, Interrupted". I will take a picture of it later to show you. Again, I LAUGHED when I saw it. If you can't laugh while in a horrible situation...you will go crazy. I guess you never laughed when faced with a tragedy. {seems pretty obvious to me. I wonder how long it will take you to get that comment?}

I heard Puke-a-rama saying stuff about me. She also passed a comment about SB. You know what? I REALLY didn't care, and SB & I laughed about it. Should I really give a crap what the opinions of a pregnant pothead are? I think not.

As far as your comment about medical staff...here's a newsflash you may not have known about me...I worked in the medical field for over 15 years. And guess what? They are not always RIGHT. They are not GOD. In my case in this hospital, they have been WRONG about EVERY SINGLE THING since the BEGINNING of this pregnancy when I was admitted back in October.

Are you part of the psych team? Seriously. I was nice enough to allow you to take me down to your conference and have you put me in a wheelchair in front of 40 people so you can ask me questions and use me as your study. I think I mentioned the name of my blog. If one of you is fucking with me, you need to have your PHD taken away from you.

If you're not one of the psych team, I am thinking you may be one of SB's friends? Perhaps a bitter ex? SB was trusting enough to give the link to my blog on his facebook page, thinking I could use some moral support. Do you know what that is? I don't think you do. Buy a dictionary and look up the meaning. Also, please look up humor & satire. You may also want to look up homo-sapiens. That is what you are SUPPOSED to be. Please give yourself a paper-cutand let me know what color you bleed, because I doubt it is red. {with your mental capacity, I am sure that one will go RIGHT over your head}

If you're some freak from FF, why not come out from hiding and let me know who you are? Better yet, PM me directly and I will give you directions to my hospital room and you can talk to me directly. I won't hold my breath waiting on you, because it's obvious you have no brain, no heart, and no soul. Judgement day is going to SUCK for you.

You should hang your head in shame for talking to me the way you do. How could you speak to a mother who has a child DYING inside of her like that? You know what? If you let me know who you are, I can MAKE YOUR DAY by giving you the blog of a woman I talk to who is dying of cancer. You could give yourself an orgasm by berating her while she sits on her deathbed.

You're a sick freak and a total coward. I hope you had yourself a good chuckle and a nice, long sexual release by kicking someone while they are down.

You suck. Big balls.

And as for my language? Practice what you preach. Don't use the word "FUCK" in your comment if you're claiming I have a nasty mouth by cursing. You're no better. Dumbass!

And I already know that you shall remain anonymous. Cyber bully much????? Therefore, from here forth, anonymous comments will be banned. You got something to say? Grow a pair and put your name up.

Today I was GOING to post the letter I have written to my son, which I will read at his burial, and put in his coffin. I also wrote him a poem. But since I know you are trolling around online right now, I will NOT post it, because God only KNOWS what a sick bastard like YOU would write about that too.

{Oh and SB, if you are reading this, please remove my blog link from your facebook page. I have noticed that this moron came out of the woodwork at the same time you posted the link AND at the same time that I accidently gave the psych team..and I believe someone else here at the hospital...my blog name. Damn me for being so trusting!}

For those who missed it, here is the coward's latest bullshit. Not as horrible as her last crap {in which she called me selfish, etc etc} but still shows how she is trying to mentally abuse me via a computer from the safety of her creepy dungeon in the bowels of hell....

BTW...The post had started out by me speaking in detail about how my son is dying inside of me at the moment. And this is all you had to say? Only goes to show what type of a person you are. Please have your tubes tied. Thanks.

Anonymous said...

Gee, I wonder what the other patients and staff are saying about you?

Sounds like you wouldn't be pleased in Buckingham Palace.

There are better ways to suggest to someone how to alter their technique to facilitate the monitoring. Nothing pisses medical and healthcare staff off more than a fucking know it all patient who is going to complain about everything anyway.

Go home and do your own monitoring. Obviously these people aren't meeting your needs.

The other patients may "nasty asses" but you aren't much better with that nasty mouth and attitude.

Insert the "Good times" theme song here....

2009-01-23T16:34:00.003-05:00

It is now day# 19 of my captivity. I counted it on the calendar today. I also counted what day it will be 19 days FROM now, and ironically, it will be my birthday. Yay for birthdays in the ghetto {if I am lucky to get that far!}

I have also counted every brick in the wall that my window faces. I do this during my endless hours on the monitor...

The monitor and I are NOT friends. It's not the monitor's fault though; it's the incompetence of the staff's fault...actually it's a combination of the monitor AND the staff, being that the monitor by my bed has a busted speaker and you can barely hear anything & the hospital refuses to fix it...

Start humming the song please...embrace the ghetto...."Good times, any time you need a payment. Good times, any time you need a friend"....

So first up, is the latest news on Angel & Boxer.

I had my u/s today to check the growth on each baby. Both have gained some weight. Boxer is now 2.4 pounds, which is very good for where I am {According to me, I'll be 27 weeks tomorrow. According to the hospital, I am already 27w2d}. She's in the 45th % I believe. Angel is now 1.6 pounds, which shows he DID gain weight in the past 2 weeks, but he is WAY behind. I believe they said less than 5%. His placenta has deteriorated further, and the flow through his umbilical cord is almost non-existent. My little Angel is REALLY struggling now; the tears were streaming down my face, although I did my best to hide them {my dad happened to be visiting when I got called for the u/s, so he was there and I didn't want him to see me cry}. The doctor said it could turn into a reverse flow any day now. So, the official and latest diagnosis on my Angel is pPROM, no fluid, and IUGR {intra-uterine growth restriction}.

Yet, his heartbeat is perfect, and he moves that one free limb as much as he can.

I cannot help but admire the sheer determination of my little Angel. What a spirit he must have. It tears me apart to know that he will not live. After all this time, and all this fighting...damnit, he deserves a chance at life! But we know that this is impossible. I continue to tell myself that he has NOT done this in vain; it was to save his sister.

I once again asked the doctor if he is in pain. The doctor insists he is not; he said he is obviously VERY happy where he is, and that's why he keeps on chugging. He did, however, tell me, that at this point, he may be giving a signal out to my body that the time to give up is drawing near; hence, the almost non-existent flow in his cord.

WHY WHY WHY? I JUST WISH I COULD UNDERSTAND WHY??!!!

It is so hard to mourn Angel while rejoicing for Boxer. But this is what I have to do. Every day. EVERY.SINGLE.DAY that passes with both of them still inside me. It's a pain I wouldn't wish on ANYBODY.

We looked at Boxer, and everything is going fantastic with her. She is kicking ass {and STILL kicking her brother all the time!}. The doctor said she has a REALLY good chance at surviving now. It's so hard to take this in. This is the same little girl they had told me to abort 3 months ago. And here she is, getting closer to a decent gestation every day.

I might actually have to start looking online for clothes and cribs, etc. I haven't registered or done anything, because I never thought I'd get to this point.

Thank you God, Universe, everything and everyone who has prayed for my babies. We may actually DO this!!!!

I'm speechless.

And at the same time, devastated, knowing that my Angel will never feel the sun on his face....

Ok, I will not cry. I WILL NOT CRY. Therefore, it is time to return to singing the song..get yourself in the mood for what's to come...more "Tales from the Ghetto General Hospital"

"Good times, any time you're out from under..not getting hassled, not getting hustled"

1) Georgie Porgie.

Ok, so everybody remembers my description of the walk-in clinic for u/s, and how I have to pass the packed waiting room every day in order to get my breakfast AND in order to take a damn shower. Well, one day it was EXTREMELY busy in here. As usual, there was a woman who was waiting in the hallway for her u/s {no seats left in the waiting room!} with 2 little kids that were out of control. They were running RAMPANT up & down the hallway as I made my way to the ALWAYS contaminated shower {Thank god for flip flops! If I didn't have a pair with me, I'd NEVER step FOOT in that murky mess}. They came 2 steps away from ramming directly into me {I threw the lady a nasty look....CURB YOUR CHILDREN WOMAN!}. I held my 70s floral robe as tightly closed as I could, and slammed the bathroom door. About 5 minutes into my shower, I heard the door open. Now, I cannot shower with my glasses or contacts, so I can't see a damn thing. I called out "Hello, there is someone in here". Still, the door remained open. I called out again "Hello! I am in here! Please shut the door! I do not need assistance!". Still, the door remained open, and now I heard something moving about. Well, you guessed it. Georgie Porgie had not only opened the door to the shower {remember, no locks, in case you fall or something} but he plopped himself down on the chair right NEXT to the shower. I almost DIED. He was looking RIGHT IN AT ME. Hi there, I didn't want to be your child's sexual education class. I said "GET OUT OF HERE". He ignored me. I finally heard his mother step in, call him out, and they left...BUT ALSO LEFT THE FUCKING DOOR OPEN!. I had to ring the call bell for a nurse to come and shut the door. WTF? Are you SERIOUS? When I finished my shower I saw the mother still standing in the hallway. I said to her "YOU REALLY NEED TO LEARN HOW TO CURB YOU CHILDREN BEFORE YOU POP ANOTHER ONE OUT". She didn't answer. I was rude. And I don't give a shit.

{And by the way...Nasty Ass's pube-covered Dove bar was STILL in the shower as of this morning. I asked the cleaning woman why she left it there; she said she didn't know the person who owned it had left; I assured her that they did; I'm hoping the specimen is now safely tucker away in a hazardous waste receptacle}

"Keeping your head above water, Making a wave when you can...Temporary Lay-off's, Good times"

2)Puke-a-rama and the Gangja toking posse.

Ok, so a woman was brought in after Nasty-Ass left. At first, she looked normal. I felt bad for her; she was projectile vomiting; I figured she had a bad case of morning sickness, or perhaps, was hooked up to some meds that make you ill. Her violent vomiting lasted all day and all night. The next morning, what looked to be the Bloods & the Crips came to see her. She was still hanging her head over the garbage pail; her "posse" kept telling her she wouldn't be so sick if she had just smoked a blunt; she was agreeing; and STILL puking. I asked the nurse what was wrong with her. The nurse said she was admitted with a stomach virus. For 2 days straight, she yakked her guts up, and the Bloods/Crips filled her room {I'm talking about 10 - 15 of them at a time}, talking about hoes, blunts, and baby daddy's. It seems NONE of them liked the woman's baby daddy, whoever he is. Anyhow, I have to listen to this posse every day, all day {hi, unemployed much?} AND, to top it ALL OFF...I CAUGHT THE FUCKING VIRUS. I was sick as a dog up until this morning. I cursed Puke-a-rama. And her posse

{And...you guessed it...Pig Pen is still here, and has YET TO WASH HER FUCKING ASS. What I want to know is how I caught the virus and she DIDN'T. I'm giving credit to the obvious cloud of dirt and stank that surrounds her, which probably acts as a barrier, thus insuring she remain healthy while clean people like ME have to PUKE! Thanks Pig Pen}

3) Anastasia, the Russian idiot.

One day, a whole bunch of labor & delivery people were down here wanting to hook people up to the monitors. I was told they had nothing else to do {Which is hard to believe, because this ward is always packed, and people are constantly having litters}. I had just gotten my breakfast when this chic came in my room and said something. I didn't understand her at first. So she pointed to the monitor. I said "yea, we do that after I eat and take a shower. We get better results that way". She ignored and said in broken English "We do monitoring now". I ignored her back and began to eat. She stood outside the door. After I ate, as usual, I had to use the bathroom. I took a book and went in there. She now came INTO the ROOM and waited outside the bathroom door {Hope the smell was enticing to her!}. Once i was done, I came out and she said "MONITOR NOW!". I almost punched the bitch. I called for my nurse, who came in and said it was ok to do it now. So, I gave Anastasia a chance.

BIG MISTAKE.

Now, Boxer is normally hard to pin down. I KNOW THIS. I also know where both babies are. But Anastasia would have NONE OF IT. She kept saying "I am a Labor & delivery nurse" in that fucked-up accent of hers, and kept jabbing the panels into my belly. Boxer, and even Angel, were PISSED. So was I. This went on for about 45 minutes. Once again, I told her she is looking in the WRONG place, and Boxer is tilted, and how to do it right, etc etc. In turn, she tells me, "I cannot find baby heartbeat. It not there. I call another labor person". ARE YOU KIDDING ME? She then moved my bed into the middle of the room, strapped me down, and walked out. WTF? I was LIVID. 2 minutes later some other chic came in the room and started POUNDING the panels into my belly. I told her she was doing it wrong; she told me she knows what she is doing. 1 hour later, we're still there. I am crying at this point. Anastasia tells me again "There is no baby heart beat, we get sono to check". I am now HYSTERICAL. I wait for them to bring me to the sono machine; it is now 3 & 1/2 hours later. They hook me up...and...guess what? BOTH babies are alive and are EXACTLY WHERE I SAID THEY WOULD BE. It took everything out of me NOT to beat her over the head with the dildo cam that was hanging off the machine. Finally, they hooked me back up & all was well. It was now LUNCHTIME. This asshole says to me "oh, hard baby to find" and I said "Yea, when you're looking in the wrong place, ignoring the mother who can feel her, and fucking shit up for hours". She didn't answer and walked out. I then banned Anastasia and her friends from EVER entering my room again.

"Easy credit rip off, Good times, Scratching and surviving, Good times, hanging in a chow line, Good times".

Ok, this entry is WAY too long.

In other news, I have yet to sleep more than a few hours a night, I failed my 1 hour glucose test, but passed the 3 hour, I put on a couple of pounds, then took them off thanks to puke-a-rama, and the windows/heat are STILL busted in this room, causing me some grief but ensuring nobody else comes in here for the time being.

Til next time...when I will discuss Tina Yothers down the hall, the fact that I have YET to receive the correct lunch or dinner, and other good tales from "The Ghetto General Hospital"

"Ain't we lucky we got em'....GOOD TIMES!!!!!, yeeeeaaaahhhhh!"

Angel is facing yet another obstacle. But he refuses to give up

2009-01-19T12:53:00.005-05:00

First off, I have to say that I am very touched and absolutely blown away at the amount of support I received in regards to my last entry, and my brush with "Ms Anonymous". Normally, I would WELCOME ignorant and nasty comments; part of the reason why I started this blog was to use it as an attempt to "educate" those who are ignorant to IF and PG loss. However, NOW really isn't the time for such ugly words. Those of you who defended me deserve a medal. And how clever of you to post comments on the prior post : )

Moving forward.

I had my weekly u/s on Friday with the peri here at the hospital and, as usual, the results were bittersweet. We also found out more bad news about Angel.

As usual, I had to watch my little boy on the screen, stuck in the same position he's been in for 13 weeks. It doesn't matter HOW many times I see it, I still break down and cry. The sight of him bent over with his head down, spine shaped like a U, unable to move anything other than one leg, membranes shrink-wrapped around him, KILLS ME. As we attempted to measure him, the peri pointed out some new "abnormalities". His placenta is now cloudy. I mean REALLY cloudy. In addition, it appears to be breaking apart in areas. It looks like Angel has now COMPLETELY stopped growing. The peri told me that he is not receiving enough oxygen and nutrients. Combine that with the pPROM and lack of fluid, and we have a recipe for demise.

I started to hysterically cry. WHY!!?? WHY DO THESE THINGS KEEP HAPPENING TO MY INNOCENT LITTLE ANGEL? What the HELL did he do to DESERVE THIS? And WHY CAN'T I HELP HIM!???

I asked the Peri if it was now inevitable; that Angel will pass away inside me. She said she didn't know. I asked if there is ANYTHING that can be done to help him; to save him; ANYTHING! She said no.

I asked if he was in pain, or suffocating, or starving, or struggling. She insisted that he is unaware of what is happening to him. But I can't seem to believe her. If his oxygen is being cut off, won't he be gasping for breath? If his nutrients are being cut off, won't he be starving? And I don't care WHAT they have told me; he HAS GOT to be struggling to move. It LOOKS like he is trying to move around. He kicks that one leg out all the time in a desperate attempt to feel SOMETHING other than being in that SAME POSITION.

This whole situation just flat out sucks.

As I was still crying for my Angel, we moved onto Boxer. She is doing fantastic. She still has all her fluid, and she has obviously grown since last week. They didn't do a weigh check on her {they want to do it 2 weeks apart} but she has clearly fattened up a bit {even though Mommy continues to lose weight} She was actually cooperating with the tech, and stayed pretty still for the u/s. The fluid on her kidneys has diminished, so that made me happy. Also, her placenta seems to be just fine; no signs of it deteriorating. Go Boxer!

My monitoring sessions since then have been good. Boxer is a feisty little girl, who loves to kick the monitors off my belly and cause many headaches for the nursing staff when she "runs and hides" {which is all the time}. Her heart rate has been good, with decent excels, only minor decals, and her activity is great. We do not monitor Angel for that long, but his heart rate has also been steady. My little boy REFUSES to give UP! No fluid for 13 weeks? No Problem! I'm going to continue to have a perfect heart beat. My placenta sucks? No Problem! I'm going to continue to have a steady, perfect heart beat.

It really is a shame to know that he cannot survive outside of the womb. Look at him go! SB and I joke around all the time, saying that we KNOW he is our son, because he's a tough cookie who keeps on trucking, mixed in with being a little too "dumb" to know when to give up.

I love my Angel.

And although I REALLY REALLY wish there could be some kind of MIRACLE to save him and have him live once he is born, it is very unlikely. SB and I have accepted that.

Boxer's chances are getting a little better as each day passes. She still isn't out of the woods, but we're becoming more and more hopeful that she will be born and actually SURVIVE, and be able to give the middle finger to all those asshole doctors that told me she had no chance, and I should abort her.

I really, truly hope that this will be the case. However, there are still no guarantees.

There are tears staining my cheeks right now, so I must move onto something more light-hearted. How about

Tales from the Ghetto General Hospital

1) Rooms with no heat and drafty open windows.

Yup, that would be my room. I kid you not. The heat has been broken since day one, and the windows have a horrible draft. Sometimes, the windows open themselves up, and blast arctic air onto my back. Normally, as a hot, sweaty, fat PG woman, I would welcome the built-in air conditioner. However, this week was the COLDEST week in NYC in like 5 years. Daytime temps hovered in the teens, and it was single digits with negative wind chill factors at night. Every time a "repair" person came into the room to tinker with it, they caused nothing more than a geyser of black water to spout out of the vents and onto my personal things, and a flood of brown murky water on the floor. They had to move my bed to the other side of the room, and I plugged up the window with towels and pillows as best as I could. It was still fuckin freezing. The only GOOD thing about this is I KNOW they will NOT be putting anybody else in the room with me, because of the no heat/broken window condition. And so I sit and shiver, and turn into Frosty the snowman, knowing it's best for me to be away from germs and bacteria. I'll take the cold over a nasty ass roommate who could give me an infection. Such as:

2) Nasty-ass & Pig Pen

These are the 2 woman across the hall from me. They have been here for about 6 or 7 days. "Nasty Ass" has absolutely NO REGARD for the public's' well-being. She walks around in her hospital gown open to the front and exposing her bush on a daily basis. THEN, Nasty-ass ALWAYS gets in the shower right before me, and causes it to be a contaminated mess. First off, she uses paper towels as a washcloth, and leaves them WET AND BLOODY ALL OVER THE SHOWER, including on the little shelf where I am supposed to put my soap and shampoo. EWWW! She also leaves her bar of Dove Soap, completely covered in pubic hair, on the only other shelf available for my soap and shampoo. I have to ask the PCA to clean it out for me every day. And don't get me started on what she leaves by the drain. I could only IMAGINE what her toilet looks like. This is why I should NOT be put in a room with another person. Her ASS is NASTY! {she is being discharged today btw. PRAISE BE TO THE SHOWER GODS!}

Pig Pen is her roommate, and she also walks around with the hospital gown open to the front. Why these women think we need to see their untamed bushes is beyond me. She has bathroom and shower privileges, but refuses to wash her ass. The nurses have asked her every day to so do, and she won't. I overheard her saying that showering in a place other than her home is against her religion {and mind you...she has the runs...I hear her ask for something to stop her up all the time...she is taking some medication that makes her puke and poop at the same time}. Yea, she's a Pig Pen. And no way in HELL would I allow her to be my roommate when I need to avoid vaginal infections.

I can't wait to see who will be stuck with her next

3) Colombian necktie.

There is someone here on the floor that LOVES to give me all the gossip going on in other rooms. They never give the room number, only the story. Like the lady who just gave birth, and has her Latino boyfriend visit in the day, while her blond-haired hubby only comes at night, and the woman doesn't know which one of them is her baby daddy. How MAURY of her!

4) Teenage wasteland.

There is a teenager who gave birth a couple of days ago. I know this, because I was almost RUN OVER by her boyfriend while on my way to get breakfast. He was SKATEBOARDING from her room to the nursery. Yes, SKATEBOARDING. At first, I thought he was the big brother to a baby or something, but the nurse let him in and said "Hello Daddy! Come see your son". I almost fell over. I peeked into the room he came out of and the girl in the bed looks like she could still shop at BABY GAP. They have all their BFFs here on a daily basis, chilling out while rapping Kayne West songs. Glad they're not within earshot of my cell!!

Join us next time for more scenes coming at ya from the "Ghetto General Hospital!"

On a final note, if I have to see the previews for the movie "The Unborn" ONE MORE TIME, I am going to OD on my vitamins}

{PS. I have received some BEAUTIFUL, WONDERFUL, THOUGHTFUL, AND AMAZING things from some of the woman I know on FF, and even those who I don't know very well. It has truly lifted my spirits and made me cry tears of happiness. Thank you SO MUCH for caring about me, and SB, and Boxer and Angel. I am truly humbled}

Wanted to blog about Angels placenta failing..but first I must say THIS

2009-01-17T22:17:00.005-05:00

Before I go onto my story, I must first address some of the comments I have gotten that have hit a nerve with me. I believe I have either been misunderstood...OR...some of you have NOT read this entire blog and know my entire story OR you are not familiar with my sense of humor and sarcasm. Either way, I feel the need to point out a couple of things. I'll make 4 examples and the story ends there.

1) Being called weak and selfish.

Ok, weak..yes. I will admit to it. I have my days of feeling weak. It comes and goes. In fact, my last entry even was even TITLED "I am feeling weak again" And you know what? It's TOTALLY NORMAL. I have spoken with MANY women who have gone through high risk PG's with prolonged bed rest and an unknown outcome. And ALL OF THEM had their moments of BREAKING DOWN and feeling WEAK and wanting to GIVE UP. WHO WOULDN'T. What am I, superwoman???? This does not mean I am SELFISH and I take offense to that. Want to know why? Well HERE is WHY

A) When I pPROM'd at 13 weeks I was YELLED AT for 12 DAYS STRAIGHT while SITTING IN A HOSPITAL BED to TERMINATE THE PG. I was told that I could DIE from SEPSIS and that I could also LOSE MY UTERUS and that NEITHER BABY WOULD SURVIVE. This was pounded into my head on a daily basis. Please note that I have had 3 prior brushes with DEATH in the past, and my health has never worked for me, and I HAVE PANIC DISORDER and PTSD from the times I ALMOST CROAKED. So...

A selfish person would have heeded her doctors advice, terminated the pregnancy, and tried again. I mean, I was only 13 weeks. The specialists were urging me to do it. There were barely any cases of a good outcome from this type of PG. The risk for infection to me was HUGE. I could have easily avoided all this paranoia, and months of bed rest, and an unknown outcome, and living in fear that EVERT DAY COULD BE THE LAST DAY FOR ME AND MY BABIES. However, I DID NOT DO THIS. I told the doctor's to fuck themselves, and took my chances to save my babies.

And so you're wrong.

B) Somebody said I have no right to be jealous of all the healthy babies around me and the happy moms. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Let's go over my situation again. I have a baby who WILL NOT SURVIVE BIRTH. HE WILL DIE. And I have another baby that ***MIGHT*** SURVIVE, BUT WE'RE NOT SURE. And you think it is WRONG for ME to NOT want to be MIXED in with people HAVING what I may NEVER HAVE? I CANNOT SAVE MY BABIES. I CANNOT REACH IN AND HELP THEM. I CAN ONLY DO AS I HAVE BEEN DOING. THERE IS NO GUARANTEE THAT I WILL EVER BE ABLE TO TOUCH MY DAUGHTER'S TOES, OR HUG HER, OR BREAST FEED HER. WE DON'T KNOW IF SHE WILL SURVIVE! AND I WILL HAVE TO BURY MY NEWBORN SON. DO YOU HEAR THAT? BURY HIM. I HAVE ALREADY PAID TO OPEN THE PLOT WHERE MY GRANDMA IS BURIED SO HE CAN JOIN HER. I HAVE CALLED A FUNERAL DIRECTOR. And you think I shouldn't feel UPSET, ANGRY AND JEALOUS??? Are you KIDDING ME? Think before you SPEAK. And not for nothing, a SELFISH person wouldn't even BE IN THIS HOSPITAL trying to save her babies. I CHECKED MYSELF IN because I thought it would be best for them.

I guess we should start putting people waiting for lung transplants in the same room with a bunch of other people needing lungs, and have the one person who is waiting to see if he can GET a lung, watch lungs be wheeled in EVERY DAY, SEVERAL TIMES A DAY and be given to the people all around him while he doesn't know if he will ever get one, and then TELL him that he is WEAK and SELFISH for breaking down, crying, or feeling slighted. Yea. Let's do that.

Oh, and by the way...my husband and I DO NOT have the FABULOUS health care coverage you THINK we have..so..we sold our CO-OP to move into a SMALL TINY ONE BEDROOM APARTMENT in order to have money to PAY FOR IVF and also to help PAY FOR ALL OF THIS {hospital stay, specialist visits, extra monitoring before hospital stay, tombstone engraving, coffin, funeral director, etc etc} AND BE ABLE TO TAKE CARE OF THE BABY IF...AND I SAID IF...WE HAVE A BABY TO TAKE HOME..{ I have joked about going "back to the shack" several times...but I never gave the DETAILS about WHY..I just made JOKES about it..but now you know the REAL TRUTH...}

My husband is MOVING OUR WHOLE HOUSE WHILE I SIT HERE IN THE HOSPITAL

Yea...that's what SELFISH PEOPLE DO!!! You got it!

C) The day that I wrote my last entry, my OBG said I could go home if I really wanted to. I had finished the antibiotics and the steroids. He said it wasn't ideal, and things could go drastically wrong, but the option was there. Hmmm...where am I? WHERE AM I? I am sitting in a maternity ward, with a room that has a broken window in 16 degree weather, with no heat, surrounded by things that make me panic.

A selfish person would have taken the first opportunity to get out of here. I stayed. Certainly not for MY well being.

And so again, you are wrong.

Listen.

Not everybody is going to like me. I get it. And not everybody is going to understand the feelings I am trying to convey. I get that too. And not everybody is EVER going to understand things that I have gone through, and what they have made me feel {this is DIRECTLY speaking about IF and PG loss; I have battled IF for years, and have had 4 PG losses}. That is why I started this blog. To educate. To open my world up to others. To let them SEE and HEAR all the RAW and REAL and INTENSE feelings one can have while walking down a road like this. And normally, I would WELCOME any NEGATIVE feedback. BUT NOT RIGHT NOW. I say you keep your mouth SHUT until I actually have this baby. For again, THERE IS NO GUARANTEE. THERE NEVER WAS. And we know for SURE that my Angel will DIE. Keep that in mind too. If you want to come on here and talk crap and say that I am a horrible person and a selfish person and a this and a that, WAIT. Cause you might be putting your foot in your mouth. Like a family member of mine who said to me last year "I hope you lose the baby!" when she found out I was PG. And 2 weeks later I lost the baby. Then this year she said the same thing to me. And my water broke 2 weeks later. So she has her foot stuck in her mouth. And she can bite me.

Come back when the story has finished , and then judge me.

I will blog more tomorrow. I am too tired to continue. I will just say that the news the other day on Angel was bad. With no fluid and the placenta failing {literally falling apart at the moment}, it's only a matter of time.

I promise to write about it tom.

PS. I have disabled comments on this post, for obvious reasons. It ends here.

til tomorrow.

Been feeling weak again...

2009-01-14T16:14:00.002-05:00

So, it is day #10 of my captivity, and each day seems to be worse than the last. I thought it would start to get easier as time goes on, but I'm being proven wrong on that theory.

I know that a huge part of the problem is this hospital. Whoever designed this place must have been shooting up heroin with a crack chaser. Seriously. The Antepartum unit is the same as the post partum unit, which is the same as the regular OBG unit, which is the same as the "walk in clinic for u/s" office. I kid you not. It is ALL on one WING. WTF? My room is actually right next to the walk-in office for u/s; all day long there are people coming and going; it's as if my hospital bed were smack-dab in the middle of a friekan doctor's office. Also, in order to get to the shower, I must pass the waiting room every morning, clad only in a flimsy 70's inspired hospital gown, thus showing my goods {Which aren't looking very GOOD at the moment} to men, women, and children alike.

The same holds true for the morning "breakfast cart". Every morning at 7:30AM, I hear the same announcement: "Good Morning Mothers! The breakfast cart is now open by the nurse's station! Please make your way to the cart in order to get your breakfast! If you are unable to get up, please buzz your PCA and they will get it for you" {Please help me GAG on the "mother" reference every day!} So I must walk in my PJ's to the cart {which usually consists of shorts and a tank top, since I'm ALWAYS sweating, except for the other night when my window popped open and there was nobody to close it until the next day. It was about 16 degrees out and I became and icicle} And? You Guessed it! I have to pass the waiting room full of people for that one too. {and while we're on the subject of the cart, let's discuss how NOURISHING this breakfast sample is. Choice of bagel, croissant or muffin. An orange. Decaf tea. 4 oz of milk. That's about it. What a healthy way for a pregnant woman to start the day!}

Now, "feeding time" here is even WORSE. There is a full-on nursery about 5 feet from my room {in the corner, right past the walk-in u/s place}. This nursery is always PACKED with big, beautiful, healthy babies. These babies are constantly being walked up and down the hallway, while moms, dads, grandparents, big brothers and sisters, janitors, etc, "oooh" and "aaaahhh" at them. Please stab me in the ear. Then there is the whole "breast feeding" time, in which the new moms are shown how to breast feed their babies. This is done every 2-3 hours.

Kill me.

I have had emotional breakdowns EVERY DAY. I cry, yell, hyperventilate, shake, panic, etc etc. No matter how hard I try to stop it, I can't. It seems to happen mainly at night, when SB is leaving, but there is no rhyme or reason to it. Last night I freaked out while he was still here; this morning, I cried so hard that my nurse thought I was in physical pain and came in to hook me up to the monitor. The psych team may as well set up room & board right outside my door, since they are in here every day. Sleep evades me. I've lost 5 pounds. My parents are angry with me for "giving up". SB is becoming frustrated with me. And I am becoming frustrated with myself. What the fuck is WRONG with me? I wasn't like this at home...even with all that damn noise and construction. I had HOPE at home..now I have NONE. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?

I need to give myself a swift kick in the ass, get my head screwed on straight, and find the strength I used to have.

I look to Angel and Boxer for that strength. These babies are kicking ass and taking names.

My Last u/s on Friday 1/9/09 showed both babies doing well. Each of them had gained 5 ounces since they last checked; Boxer is about 1 lb 7 ounces now, and Angel is 1 lb even. Angel is still very far behind, but the fact that he gained the exact amount of weight as his sister did is fantastic news! As usual, Boxer was all over the screen, being her normal feisty self, while Angel did his best to move what he could {which seems to be his one arm. I think he is very happy he can at least move SOMETHING, especially since Boxer is constantly kicking on him!}

My daily monitoring {which still stresses me OUT...I don't know why...,most people seem to be comforted by the monitoring..I am not of the norm..it makes me insanely paranoid} is going well. Boxer is proving to be quite a challenge to keep on it; the nurses refer to her as "Houdini"; she has the uncanny ability to hide from the monitor equipment. It sometimes takes 2-3 nurses to track her down, and once we have the belts on, she goes apeshit. Rolling, punching, kicking..she's as out of control as Mommy! Angel is much more cooperative, although he does put up a weak fight with his one free hand. Angel is VERY VERY low on my cervix; sometimes I feel like we're monitoring my vagina. At this point, the doctors do not think it is a problem; however, it does worry me.

All monitoring sessions {after hours of thinking something is wrong because Houdini leaves alot} have shown that babies are well, and uterus is quiet. Yay!

So, I need to stop feeling like a weak-ass. Boxer and Angel aren't weak. They don't give a crap where we are or what we've been told. They're not bothered by strange men looking at Mommy's enormous boobs. They aren't jealous of the big & healthy 9 lb babies. They don't care who is in the room with us. They are continuing to fight and defy the odds. They aren't letting ANYTHING get them down.

I need to learn how to be a real woman, from my tiny little children....I need to be as strong as they are....

Til next time

I've been in "Girl, Interrupted" hell

2009-01-09T10:35:00.004-05:00

Remember the movie with Winona Ryder, Angelina Jolie & the chicken bitch? Well, that has become my life. I must say that my stay here at the hospital has been horrible so far, and I have not handled it well.

I had REALLY wanted to come online yesterday to vent; however, I had no Internet access. I had barely any the day before. I obviously cannot function without it..

So, back to Girl Interrupted. I have been a crying, weeping, panicking disaster. I feel trapped, alone, helpless, scared, angry, and frustrated. I literally cried THE ENTIRE DAY YESTERDAY AND THE ENTIRE NIGHT. I kid you not. No matter how hard I tried to stop myself from having a nervous breakdown, I couldn't. I KNOW that this is bad for Boxer and Angel, yet I am unable to control it at the moment. In turn, that made me even MORE upset because I felt like I was being a bad mother, and that I was going to hurt them because I couldn't get a grip.

The fucking psych team has been in my room every single day. They have really annoyed the crap out of me. The "head psych" doctor has totally pissed me off. Every time she comes in here, she wants to put me on Thorazine. Um, am I a psychotic? I think not. Just because I am having emotional breakdowns in here does not mean I need a friekan Thorazine drip. What's next, electric shock? I told her I am not Wonder Woman, I'm human, which means I have ups and downs. She doesn't seem to want to believe me...

SB is convinced that one of the reasons why I am freaking out in here so much is because I DO NOT trust the doctors here {aside from my OBG}. SB has a good point because I really don't trust them, nor do I like them. When I see them in the hallway, I sometimes want to punch them. I hold back though, because I can see the huge needle coming my way from the head psych doc, along with restraints..

My room is still the one looking at the brick wall, but at least I can see light, and there is nobody in here with me {for the time being. The whole ward is full right now, so I have a feeling they are about to put someone in the extra bed}. I am totally surrounded by people who have given birth and it truly hurts me. Seeing all these happy people with their perfect babies makes me extremely jealous. I can't lie. Yesterday, someone came into my room by accident holding balloons that said "IT'S A BOY!". I wanted to puke. Then someone else came in asking me to fill out a birth certificate?

Ok, onto important stuff: Boxer & Angel.

I am put on the monitor twice a day. My Boxer girl is living up to her name, and then some. I am sometimes on the monitor for 2 hours at a time, because my feisty little girl DOES NOT STOP MOVING! She is all over the place, and she kicks like you wouldn't believe. So far, all her monitoring has been good; fetal heart rate is normal; movement is normal; everything appears to be fine.

Angel is also doing quite well, although they won't monitor him for as long as Boxer. Believe me, I have fought this, but they claim that it doesn't make sense, as we wouldn't do an emergency c-section if he appeared to be in distress. But he has surprised everyone {including me} by moving around a little bit, and giving a weak punch here and there. You go Angel!

This morning I had a big leak of fluid which has me concerned. They put me on the monitor right afterwards and all seemed well; however, I have demanded an u/s. My OBG came to see me and he agreed. I should be taken for one sometime this afternoon.

I was given both steroid shots, so I'm happy that was done. I am still on the antibiotics; 2 of them per day; I will be on them until Monday I believe.

I have had mild contractions, but nothing out of the ordinary. So, although I have almost lost my mind, it appears that Boxer & Angel are not letting mommy's bad attitude get them down. They are still kicking ass. Tomorrow I will be 25 weeks. I cannot believe it.

So, I leave you with some pictures {if I am able to get them on here correctly. I forgot how to add pics to a blog entry!} If I can get Internet access on a regular basis, I am sure I will be chewing every body's ear off. If I can't, I'm positive that the straight jacket will be pulled around me...

Til next time..Here are some parting pics..

The first room I was put into..this was supposed to be where I put all my personal stuff. And look mom..no phone!

This is what I could see while laying in the bed

View of the entire "deluxe dungeon", complete with picture window

This is my "new and improved room", which I am in right now

The view from my new room...hey, at least I can tell it's daytime!

Bedside picture of my cat Juniper, who I already miss!

Boxer & Angel belly shot 24w5d

Boxer & Angel 24w5d

Front View 24w5d

Not a good check-in day AT ALL

2009-01-05T15:40:00.004-05:00

I give you this update from the bowels of a hospital in Queens. When I say bowels, I mean it, since I am sitting in a basement room with a window the size of my foot.

This day has been a fucking mess. I want to kick myself in the ass for thinking that any doctor or hospital actually cares about me or my babies.

SB and I went to the hospital as instructed. I was armed with an entire suitcase full of things to make me comfy for weeks to come. I was scared, but trying to be brave. When we got to the floor I was supposed to be admitted on, all hell broke loose. These people had NO IDEA I was coming. There was no record of anything. I told them that the pre-cert, etc, had gone through over a week ago and everything had been set up. They looked at me as if I had 10 heads, and then told me that I needed to go to Labor & Delivery for admission and monitoring.

??????

I asked why; they said that if I were having problems, I should be in L&D. I told them that I wasn't having problems per se; I was being admitted for the long haul due to an ongoing problem; they repeated that I needed to go down to L&D. So off we went. I was hooked up to a monitor to check for contractions. All was good. I was given an u/s. All was good. I was hooked up to a fetal monitor {only for Boxer though, which pissed me off}. All was good. Then I was told that there still wasn't a room for me. They were trying to turn an empty room into a room for me.

???????

It seems I had to be on one side of the hospital only, because that's the side that has the monitoring equipment. However, the 2 private rooms were taken by long term patients, and the double rooms were filled with people who just had c-sections, and that left a room with 4 beds which I flat out refused. After waiting around for about an hour, they said they had a room set up and took me to it.

Um. Yea. I don't think so.

It was a double room with nobody else in it at the moment; however, it had..get this...no window. There was only one small window {the size of a basement window} that faced a bunch of pipes. The room reminded me of a cell. Seriously. It had also just been painted, so it reeked of paint fumes. I began to hysterically...and I mean hysterically...cry. Cry out of control, hyperventilating and all. It was ridiculous. I told SB there was NO WAY I could stay in there. I started to have a major panic attack. I was PISSED OFF. WHY DIDN'T THESE PEOPLE KNOW I WAS COMING???? WHY WON'T THEY MONITOR ANGEL???? WHERE THE HELL IS THAT DAMN HIGH RISK DOCTOR???? JACKOFF HAD NOT EVEN COME TO SEE ME. WHY DID THESE PEOPLE HAVE NO PLAN SET FOR ME? WHY DIDN'T THEY KNOW ABOUT THE STEROIDS AND THE ANTIBIOTICS??? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON???

_________________________________________________________________

It is now a couple of hours later and I am a bit more calm, although not feeling 100% secure. I had to take a klonopin as my panic attack went above & beyond, and caused me to have contractions. I got in touch with my OBG who was just as confused as I was; therefore, he came to the hospital to try and calm things down. While waiting for him, I was given my steroid shot {it totally reminded me of PIO shots!}. After much fussing I was moved to another room. It is a double, but at least it has a window. Too bad the window is overlooking a brick wall. But at least I can see a piece of the sky when I lay back all the way in my bed. No matter, I was just happy that the room had some light to it, and didn't resemble the ugly scary-ass room from the original SAW movie. And it didn't smell like paint. There is noone else in the room with me, which is how it should be, as I am deathly afraid of infection and do not want to share my toilet with someone else. Nor do I want to be in the same room as someone who is breast-feeding. I'm just not mentally ready for that yet. So for now it is me & a brick wall.

After speaking with my OBG {bless his heart..he came to the hospital just for me!} I calmed down and agreed to stay {I was prepared to walk out the door before he came}. They are going to come up soon to put the IV in for my antibiotics. I have also been given bathroom and shower privledges, which makes me happy, as I really don't want to change what I have been doing {cause it seems to have worked!}

The only GOOD thing of the day was seeing my Boxer and Angel, and knowing that they are as healthy as each of them can be. The Physician Assistant who did my u/s said "Wow, she's an ACTIVE little girl! Look at her go!" when she was trying to measure Boxer girl. When the monitors were one me, Boxer actually had enough force in her kick to undo the velcro. You go little girl!!

I am, however, very angry that they do not want to monitor Angel. I told my OBG that I want both babies monitored and he said he would take care of it for me.

I took some pictures of the first dungeon I was in so that you guys can admire it's beauty. I am also taking a picture of this room and a belly shot. I will try to have all them uploaded by tomorrow...

Nice doctors? What a concept!

2008-12-30T15:43:00.003-05:00

Never thought I'd be able to write an entry with a title like this. I guess is takes 23 weeks and 2 days to experience such a thing.

Yesterday I went to my regular OBG to discuss what the specialist told me. I still love going to my OBG; he is the only guy that has greeted me with smiles and cheers since I pPROM'd. He agreed that I should be put in the hospital beginning Monday. However, he wanted to double check if I need to remain an inpatient if all is going well. I have to give him props for thinking about my well-being. He said "That could drive anybody crazy! Let's make sure it's necessary" {which it is}. But I am set to be admitted this coming Monday, 1/5, and I will be given the steroid shots and antibiotics. He is also going to have someone come in to take a look at my hands. They are in bad shape. The PG-induced carpal tunnel has caused me to lose ALL feeling in my fingers and, at the same time, has caused extreme pain in my wrists and the palms of my hands. Add in the enormous swelling and lack of blood flow and we have a problem. It's not pre-E thank god; he checked for that. We took a look at the babies and they are both still alive; however, Angel REALLY seems to be falling behind now. They measured him as 3 weeks behind, which means he hasn't grown at all in a week. This makes me nervous, sad, and scared. His heart rate was perfect though, which made me happy, and as usual, I cried for my Angel {while looking at his tiny little body stuck in that SAME position} while I rejoiced for my Boxer {Who was moving around and kicking her brother in the head as usual}. It's so hard to describe what I feel when I see them on the screen. I don't know whether to scream and cry and crumple into a ball, or laugh and feel a warmness in my heart......

Right after the OBG, we had our NICU tour. And while it was overwhelming, it also made me feel as if this PG is finally real. These doctors and nurses spoke to me as if I were actually a Mother, and spoke of the babies as if they would actually be born. What a change from all the bullshit garbage that has been spewed in my face from previous doctors and assholes alike. We went in there armed with a barrage of questions {thank you NICU moms!} which were all answered in detail {even if some of the answers were not to our liking, such as the "no parking passes" crap. This is Queens damnit! There is NO parking as it is!}. We were given the stats on what the outcome could be for each week I progress in the PG. The sad part was that the neonatal doctor also doesn't hold out much hope for our Angel boy; so we went into detail about comfort care for him, and pictures, etc etc. Basically things that NO EXPECTING MOM AND DAD WOULD EVER WANT TO THINK ABOUT, LET ALONE PLAN. But, we know the situation. I clutched my belly the whole time we talked about it, and spoke in my secret voice to Angel telling him that I do love him, and wish that by some miracle all of these arrangements will be unnecessary.

After we went over all the rules, etc, I was wheeled into the area where the babies are. I had asked to see some low birth weight babies, if possible {Again, thank you NICU moms!}. SB & I were shown a whole bunch of little preemies, including one who was born at a mere 24 weeks. It was both heartbreaking and amazing to see this tiny little being fighting for life. He was so LITTLE, and covered in down, and attached to about 700 tubes. But he was alive! And doing well! We know that the stats for a baby born that early are VERY grim, but we felt we needed to know EVERYTHING. I'm glad they were able to show us & talk about it with us.

Now, the neonatal doc and the nurses and the social workers were the NICEST FRIEKAN PEOPLE I HAVE EVER MET. Sincerely. It really touched my heart how much they cared about my case {they knew about it ahead of time! }. They even talked to my belly and called the babies by the names I gave them {Hi Boxer! Hi Angel! Stay in there as long as you can! I want to meet you, but not for many many weeks!}. It made me cry.

So, SB and I are now as prepared as we can be for the NICU. I am also still trying to mentally prepare myself for what I hope will be a LONG ASS hospital stay. It's not easy.

The past 2 days I have felt like shit. I haven't been able to sleep, I have had sharp stabbing pains in my belly {which we believe is gas}, the shakes, pounding heart, and don't even get me started on the hands. Also, Juniper the cat is injured; she was sleeping and got spooked when something in the room fell, so she pounced off the couch; however, with only one eye and very crooked legs, she isn't very graceful. She hit something, and began limping and howling. It was breaking my heart. SB took her to the vet this morning and it appears that she may have dislocated her knee. Poor thing! We'll know all the details in a little bit when he goes to pick her up.

So for now, I am hoping that all the ailments I am feeling are nothing more than normal PG symptoms. I'm also hoping they will abate so I can do things like EAT and SLEEP. I plan to spend the next 6 days enjoying cable TV and snuggling with my Juniper girl. I will be mostly alone for the New Year {SB has to work} but frankly, who gives a flying crap? I was never a huge New Years Eve person, and I cannot wait to put 2008 behind me, because I'm hoping 2009 will be full of nothing but happiness!

So, Happy New Year to all of you from all of us!!! Til next time...

Looks like I will be going back...

2008-12-23T17:24:00.003-05:00

My specialist appointment was today, and although the news was quite good, it was also a bit scary!

The woman specialist whom I have seen in the past was not in today, so I saw her partner. I was very nervous because I have been leaking a ton of fluid. The tech came in first and looked around. I was relieved when she told me that Boxers fluid levels looks great. She measured Boxer and checked her weight..she has gained a bit {she is now 1 pound 3 ounces} but she is still about 6 days behind in the weight department. They didn't seem too concerned. Believe it or not, Boxer was actually SLEEPING during this u/s. I have never seen her looking so peaceful. She must have been tired from spending a whole night kicking her brother in the head {could explain the weird sensations I had in my tummy all night!}

My Angel is still alive, and has also grown. He is now 11 ounces. She wasn't able to get an accurate measurement though {as usual}. He is still facing the other way, so we have yet to see his face. HOWEVER: It seems as though he has shifted a bit! We were able to actually see his leg moving {And it appeared to be his OTHER leg...the one we have never seen!}. Because of this, the tech confirmed what I had already known in my heart..My angel is a boy. I could see the look of disappointment on SB's face because it's always been his dream to have a son. I smiled at him and mouthed "it's ok honey! He's a good boy!"

The tech then left to get the specialists partner. I sat up and hugged SB. I just felt that he needed an extra hug, even though he said he didn't.

The specialist came in and double checked the findings. Everything was accurate. He concluded that Boxer is doing fantastic {even if she is a little bit underweight} and the tiny bit of fluid on her kidneys from last week is nothing. He then said that although Angel appeared to be doing fairly well {MUCH better than ever expected} we should NOT expect him to survive.

{I don't know why it always hurts me so much to hear this, because I have to listen to it ALL THE TIME at EVERY VISIT from EVERY DOCTOR. But it still feels like a stab in the heart}.

I told him we were prepared for that.

He then asked what "plan" had been made for us.

We told him "none".

He seemed perplexed.

I told him that I have BEEN perplexed for about 10 weeks now since nobody had wanted to give us a "Plan".

So, we asked what is the best route to go.

He said, "You should be re-admitted back into the hospital at 24 weeks, which is in 11 days. At that time, you will be given steroid shots and antibiotics. You will have to stay in the hospital for monitoring until the babies are born. We won't allow you to go past 34 weeks, so that is the longest you will have to stay"

Even though I had a feeling that it would come to this, I was very nervous and also very torn! I didn't know whether or not to believe him...where the fuck was he when I pPROM'd? I didn't know if he was using scare tactics on me, because he gave 1.9 million reasons as to why I shouldn't wait longer than 24 weeks to be put in the hospital, and they were all VERY scary!

Ultimately, he said it was up to me, although he did ask us to please follow his recommendation.

So, the decision lies in my hands {and SB's..and Angel & Boxer's}

I believe that I will go back in the hospital in 11 days. I mean, I have come this far...to lose my babies now would KILL me, ESPECIALLY if it were because I had been TOO SELFISH to go into the hospital again. But I won't deny it. I am TERRIFIED. I am BEYOND TERRIFIED.

Until then, I intend to enjoy the Holiday {even though I can't go anywhere, or do anything}. I have my babies in my belly moving around; I have SB to snuggle up to when the cold wind blows outside; and I have my Juniper cat purring next to me while I attempt to sleep at night.

I also have the NICU tour on Monday,and I plan on asking 1000 questions. I also want their opinion on my readmission to the hospital {btw a big kiss and a huge THANK YOU to all the NICU mom's who gave me great advice on what to ask about during the tour!}

So for now, SB, Angel, Boxer and I {and Juniper the cat too} wish you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy Hanukkah and we are hugging all of you within our hearts for being such a fantastic {and much appreciated} support system!

Scattered thoughts...

2008-12-16T16:00:00.002-05:00

So, since I last wrote I have had another scare, and have also realized it's Christmas time. Emotionally, I've had good days and bad days. Here's a re-cap:

Friday was the scare day. I awoke to the soothing sounds of a jackhammer blasting out the bricks around my window. I got up and called my dad from the closet {the only place I could hear him on the phone} to let him know he had to come get me and bring me to the shack. While in the closet, I felt some fluid leak out. A little more than I normally feel {as I leak fluid every day}, but not enough to worry me. As the one jackhammer turned into 2, and a cloud of brick dust filled my house, I decided to take a quick shower before dad got there. As I was undressing to get in the shower, I felt a gush of fluid. I also felt my heart sink. It was a gush. Much more than average. It scared the shit out of me. I immediately went back in the closet and called my OBG: he instructed me to go directly to Labor & Delivery. I trembled. I called my dad and told him he would have to take me to the hospital instead of the shack. I called SB to alert him to the problem. And off I went.

As soon as I got there, they hooked me up to the machine to check for contractions. I told them that I didn't believe I was having any. The machine showed activity, but not contractions? I barely had the time to ask them what that meant, when I saw them reaching for the dreaded speculum. Now, I must explain what type of speculum they use on me. I'm not talking about your run-of-the-mill speculum that you get at the OBG's office for a pap. I'm not even talking about the slightly bigger one you get for a quick procedure. I am talking about a speculum the size of a fucking truck; one that is normally used when a woman is dilated to 10 and the baby is coming out. I kid you not. It looks like a medieval torture device concocted in the 13th century by some barbaric deranged dude in a creepy castle. Anyhow, not only does this thing hurt like HELL, it also scares me to have anything put in my cooch as I am TERRIFIED OF INFECTION due to the pPROM. And they use this thing on me EVERY SINGLE TIME I GO THERE as they claim it's the only thing that is "sterile". I denied them this time; I said there was no reason to use that thing on me; we could easily detect a fluid problem on u/s; they told me they had to make sure my cervix was closed; after crying for 15 minutes I conceded; I screamed so loud that my dad {who was in the waiting room} was moved away to another area. The speculum showed my cervix was shut tight. No shit Sherlock, I could have told you that, but whatever, they have a hard-on for the speculum. Finally they gave me an u/s. I was hysterical by this time, so scared that either Boxer would have no fluid, or Angel would be dead. Thankfully, the u/s showed Boxer's fluid levels were great and had not changed; it also showed my Angel was still alive.

HOWEVER

When I had the pPROM back at 13 weeks, the u/s showed good fluid around both babies. It took a week for the fluid levels to noticeably decrease. So, I was still terrified. Also, the specialist came in {they had paged her} and she took a quick look. She told me that Angel's heart appeared to be in distress. She said it wasn't beating properly. I almost threw up. She pointed it out on the screen to me. I didn't see what she was talking about, but I did see, YET AGAIN, my poor Angel crumpled up and unable to move. I could have sworn I saw a little "shiver" or something. But other than that, he looked the same as he always did, and it broke my heart as it always does. Boxer girl was kicking him in the head as usual; I hope he finds his sister's kicks comforting; he must, as she's been doing it for weeks. They gave me a picture of them together {the best they could} but the quality is so crappy I can barely see it in person, let alone try to take a picture of it to put on here. I will attempt to have someone tweak it lighter for me, as I never seem to get any pictures of my Angel, and I would like to save it. They then sent me home.

Over the weekend I continued to leak and enormous amount of fluid; therefore, I was having constant panic attacks and crying fits. I was so afraid that Boxer's fluid was now leaking. I was also afraid that I was getting the ever-dreaded infection. I was also sad for my Angel who looks so sad and pathetic on the screen. And last but not least, I was sad for myself, knowing I will be a mother who buries her own child. Unfortunately, SB took the brunt of my mood as I lashed into him all weekend. Poor SB. Im sorry!

Monday morning we went to the OBG to double check on things. The u/s showed Boxer's fluid levels were still great, so that helped ease my mind a bit. The OBG also said it didn't look like Angel's heart was in distress anymore. Go figure. The final guess as to what happened? Angel probably tried to move and kicked whatever little water he makes per day out of me..OR..he succeeded in moving a tiny bit, thus opening up the entrance to the tear a bit more, and causing the fluid amount leaking out to increase.

Depressing thought either way. My baby is trying to move but he can't. TEARS.MY.HEART.OUT.

So, I made an appointment for next Tuesday with the specialist so we can check on the fluid levels and status of both my babes. Also, I spoke with the NICU and made an appointment for 12/29/08; I will be given a tour of the NICU and will also meet with the pediatricians. They are well aware of my case. I'm making a list of things to ask; any advice from NICU mom's reading this would be greatly appreciated.

I would also like to let you guys know that I DO intend on meeting my Angel when he is born. How could I not? There is no way I would allow the doctors to cart away my baby as if he were yesterday's trash. He is MY child, no matter what is wrong with him {or her..we're really not sure what Angel is, but it was "guessed" he was a boy a long time ago, and I myself always felt he was a boy. We won't know for sure until he's here though}. I actually discussed this with the nurses while in L&D on Friday; I will be picking out an outfit for him as well. And, I looked at the website Now I Lay me down to sleep, and I cried the entire time I was looking at it. The work that they do is amazing and touching and BEAUTIFUL. Just like I know my Angel is beautiful, not matter what the doctor tells me. So I will be contacting them as well to take tasteful pictures for me to keep forever. Honestly, I can't wait to meet Angel & Boxer. I'm in awe of them. They rock. And I love them so much!!!! I've begun to feel my Boxer girl moving around; nothing big, just bubbles here and there. I think she likes when I eat ice-cream and sing to her. I have a feeling Angel is enjoying it also, even if he can't do anything more than tap one finger.

Sorry if this post was so scattered, but I've been an emotional disaster lately. Somehow, I still have a sense of humor {I think?} as I can go from crying to making myself laugh in 2.5 seconds.

I also want to thank all of you for supporting me throughout this crazy journey. As I have said 100x before, it means the WORLD to me. I don't really have much support for this in real life {I think people are uncomfortable with the situation?}, and I cherish the support I receive from all of you! The 4 of us are humbled, and thankful, and adore you all..

Heartbroken, but hopeful.

2008-12-09T17:51:00.002-05:00

So, I had my specialist appointment today. I was both excited and scared on the way there. The results of the appointment proved I had every right to feel both of those things.

When we first got called in, a regular doctor performed the u/s, to get an idea of how things are, and also to compare today's findings with that of the Level II {I had brought in a copy of the test results}. She didn't tell us much, and then left the room.

The Specialist then came in, and said she needed to look more closely at some things before she could give us any information. So, the probe went back on my belly. She looked around for a bit, desperately trying to get a good shot of Angel {which has proved pretty much impossible for the past 7 weeks}. And then, she was able to get a little GLIMPSE of something other than Angel's head {which is the only thing that we have been able to see so far}

The picture wasn't very pretty.

Angel is still crumpled up in the fetal position. Somehow, he still has a heartbeat. However, Angel is not developed properly. We were only able to see the back of the head, and one arm, hand, leg & foot. The first thing she pointed out, was the foot; it was clubbed. We were expecting that. However, we were not expecting the rest of the news.

It appears that Angel's leg has grown the wrong way; it is backwards. This is the leg with the club foot. We weren't able to see the other leg, but the doctor told us that judging by the position Angel is in, both legs would be the same. We moved up to the arm/hand. Angel has his hand behind his head. It has been in that position for 7 weeks. Therefore, the hand & the arm are also very deformed.

Since Angel has been in a fetal position for so long, his spine is shaped like a U.

Seeing this on the screen was horrific and depressing. I can't really explain what I felt while looking at Angel from this angle. I held back the tears as best as I could. The doctor then looked for the membrane, and she found it, right up against Angel. He is now officially shrink-wrapped. And now we know that he is shrink-wrapped in a deformed and unnatural way.

My heart aches just thinking about it.

She moved on to Boxer. Our little girl was kicking her legs and being her normal self. She measures right on track too. The doctor detected a tiny bit of fluid around her kidneys, but she told us that this is the most common thing to see "wrong" on an u/s, and the amount of fluid was so minimal, she didn't think it would be a problem. Still,it's on my mind now as to what that could mean.

She left the room to show the findings to a colleague of hers. That is when I began to lose it. I started crying hysterically. I know that I have been prepared for Angel's fate; we have known he wouldn't live for 2 months now; he wouldn't have developed lungs. However, I wasn't expecting him to be so deformed. SB looked at me with tears in his eyes too. He said to me "I know honey, it was very hard to look at our baby like that".

That's when the tears really started falling.

The doctor came back in the room and went over Angel's problems with us. She said that normally, they would terminate the pregnancy as he is so deformed. She even brought up the selective reduction option; however, she advised us that this would be too risky in a twin pregnancy, especially one that pPROM'd. She said there wasn't even any literature on such a thing. She advised against it. We didn't argue.

I asked if Angel was in pain. I don't want my baby to be in pain. She said no, he is not aware of anything wrong. I asked if he would be in pain when I gave birth; she said they would do everything they could to keep him comfortable until he passed. She also said she thought it would be best that we do not see him when he came out; he would be that deformed.

WHAT MOTHER WANTS TO HEAR THIS??????? TELL ME PLEASE!

She then moved onto Boxer, saying that she is fine, and she has high hopes. I asked if my chances of having Boxer at a decent gestation were good; she said "It's much better than they told you the last time". Her advice was for me to continue on as I have been, and to be monitored very closely. I asked about steroid shots to help with Boxer's lungs; she said it was certainly something to be discussed in detail within the next few weeks.

I also asked if we could have a tour of the NICU, and meet with the doctors {as we had discussed on Friday}. She said absolutely, as Boxer will definitely be in the NICU, and I would definitely be a NICU mom. She set up for the team to call me at 24 weeks.

So, the actual song remains the same, as I must continue doing as I have, and praying like crazy that Boxer will stay cooking. She told me the risk of infection was still high {I knew this, but I suppose she had to tell me again anyway, in case I thought I was out of the woods}. She took blood for a CBC, and told me to follow-up with the OBG, and she would see me in a few weeks when I come in for the NICU tour {Via wheelchair btw..she said I had walked too much today}. Also, she reminded me again that I am still not out of the woods, and if anything were to go wrong within he next few weeks, I would lose both babies.

So I shall continue on as I have been, even though I've been crying ever since we left the hospital. My poor Angel. My poor baby. What did he do to deserve this? What did I do to deserve this? Why did my body fail me ONCE AGAIN? Why did my water break? WHY DID I FAIL YET ANOTHER CHILD OF MINE??? How can I sleep at night without thinking of him passing away ALL ALONE BECAUSE HE WILL BE THAT SICK AND DEFORMED. WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY????

What can I do to prolong this pregnancy. What can I do to help Boxer? IS THERE ANYTHING I CAN DO? I CAN'T LOSE HER NOW! I've come so far....

Please, Please, God, Universe, friends, family, SB...ANYBODY...give me the strength! PLEASE. I need to be strong for my little girl. And I need to be strong for my little Angel, who is defying the odds and continuing to live AND grow inside of me, deformed or not. I sincerely believe he is staying alive to save his sister. And that is why HE IS AND ALWAYS WILL BE MY LITTLE ANGEL.

Quick update...

2008-12-06T19:38:00.003-05:00

I'm popping on to give a quick update, as I didn't want to leave everybody hanging.

I had to cancel my appointment on Friday because I was having cramping and a lot of discharge. Getting into Manhattan is a VERY hard thing to do {those of you that live in NY know all about this!} and I didn't want to push myself ESPECIALLY because the cramping was pretty bad, and my belly was tightening.

Being there is LOUD and DIRTY and RIDICULOUS construction going on RIGHT OUTSIDE MY WINDOW, my dad picked me up and brought me to what used to be my nona's apartment {she passed away some time ago. SB and I will actually be moving there real soon. I call it a shack, but it's clean, and it's quiet!}. I stayed there all day resting, and my dad stayed with me. Over the course of the day, the tightening of my belly stopped {though the pains and the discharge continued}. After I was feeling better, I decided to go out on a limb and call my RE's office to see if my RE knew of a specialist who was in Queens.

Well get this. She did! And this specialist actually works out of the same hospital that my OBG does, AND, this specialist is friends with my RE!

I have to give my RE credit, she stayed on the phone with me for 45 minutes, listening to my story, and being very sympathetic. So she gets props from me.

I had seen the specialist she recommended. She was one of the first people who saw me in the hospital. HOWEVER: she is NOT one of the doctors who rejected me. She does not have a private practice, she works out of the hospital only, and doesn't have regular patients.

Well..until now.

Both my OBG and the RE spoke to her, and then I left a message for her and she called me right back. She agreed that NOW is the time to start discussing ALL options, and to really monitor me. I have an appointment with both her AND pediatricians from the NICU on Tuesday.

WOO. HOO. I never thought I'd get this far.

Other than that, I have been sick. I have to leave my house every day because of the construction The plaster on my walls is falling off, and there is nothing but a cloud of dirt and dust in the house every day. But I have been sick in other ways too {aside from the ones that are caused by the construction}. Lots of pains {but no more tightening of the belly, thank god}, swelling, and numbness of the hands, racing heart, dizzy spells, etc etc, as well as MAJOR PANIC ATTACKS, and what I can only describe as depression.

But, I'm ALL gung-ho for the appointment on Tuesday. I am SOOOOOO excited that I have made it to 20 weeks, and defied the odds. I want to continue defying the odds, and fight tooth and nail for my babies that I love to pieces. I don't care WHAT I have to do; go in the hospital for weeks, be in physical pain, have my ass continue to go numb from all this bed rest {lol}...I will do whatever I can to keep these babies alive and healthy, and bring them into this world, and into the loving arms of both SB and I.

I will, however, be honest and say that if I lose them now, when I have come this far, I will be more devastated than words can describe.

But I won't focus on that right now. I'll try to be positive. {and also try to act like a "normal" pregnant woman by bitching about all my ailments at the moment!}

THANKS TO ALL OF YOU FOR YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT AND PRAYERS!!!

Feel like I need to do more...

2008-12-03T13:21:00.002-05:00

So, I had a follow-up appointment with my OBG on Monday. It was a "routine" pre-natal visit; weight, blood pressure, etc etc. They also took blood to check for other congenital problems {Something they should have done earlier but for some reason, didn't}. I asked the OBG to please give me a quick u/s just so we could be sure that both babies are still alive.

As usual, the u/s was bittersweet. My little Boxer girl was doing fine; heart rate is good, measures right on track, flipping around and boxing as usual. She is so entertaining! Then we moved over to Angel, and I went from being extremely happy, to extremely sad. Angel's situation hasn't changed at all; there is still barely any fluid around him, and the little that he does have appears to be at his feet. He is unable to move, and is in such a horrible position, that all we can see is the top of his head and his spine, which is shaped like a U {he appears to be in a fetal position}. SB thought he saw a quiver or 2, but I saw nothing.

BREAKS.MY.HEART.EVERY.SINGLE.TIME.

On the way home, I told SB that I felt as if we haven't done enough to see if there is ANY way possible for Angel to be saved. I also told him that we have NO idea if our chances are now larger than the "less than 1%" we were given for Boxer. SB reminded me that it's not OUR fault we didn't pursue a 2nd opinion, it's the DOCTORS' fault as they ALL REJECTED MY CASE and refused to take me on as a patient. He also reminded me that they said they would take me as a patient if I were closer to 20 weeks. Well, I am almost 20 weeks. But do you think I will go to them now, after they IGNORED me for all these weeks? HELL TO THE NO.

SB & I did some research to find doctors that have experience in pPROM and multiples. I also had some wonderful ladies {from FF} email me with suggestions and even some names of doctors that are right here in NYC. A few women suggested I find out about the amnio-patch, and/or amnio fusion. {The first is a procedure in which they go into the womb and seal the tear in the sac; the latter is when they fill the sac with fluid in the hopes that it will help}. SB found a big-shot guy in Manhattan who worked on a famous case {Baby Sebastian}. This doctor reviewed my information, and then informed me that he would NOT be able to perform either of these procedures on me as this is a multiple birth and would put Boxer at risk. I completely understood.

We called another high-risk OBG who works out of Manhattan; her name was given to me by a kind women on FF. We gave her all the information, and she agreed to a consult, so I have an appointment with her on Friday.

I feel good about this as I NEED to at least TRY to see what can be done, and I also NEED to hear a 2nd opinion from someone who IS high-risk. I love my OBG, but reality is...he is NOT a high risk doctor, AND, he has never even HEARD of a pPROM happening as early as it did to me. {He did, however, call me his "Miracle" during my appointment on Friday. I'll give him credit; he wants to try and get me to 36 weeks...BOY is he being optimistic..I told him that my personal goal was 32 weeks. He said "That would be ok too!"}.

So, we'll wait and see what happens.

I have been very down in the dumps again. For all the same reasons I have already shared with you. Angel's fate; not being able to help; not knowing what the outcome is; not knowing if Boxer will live; fearing pre-term labor; fearing infection; etc etc. I am still on bed rest, cooped up in this LOUD ASS CO-OP; I have no peace; I get no rest; and I spend most of my days crying alone until there are no more tears to shed.....I never knew I could cry this much until now....my heart is so heavy, and is also broken; I don't know if it will ever be whole again....

Til next time.

They're still kicking ass!!!

2008-11-26T14:32:00.002-05:00

So, I had the level II u/s today. I was very nervous, especially after yesterday's fiasco, and the fact that the green/yellow discharge is still coming out. Also, I can't help but get REAL terrified when I think about that speculum exam and the fact that the doctor put WATER on the speculum...and then tried to deny it!

Anyhow, my dad took me as SB had to work. As usual, the results were bittersweet.

Boxer looks PERFECT. She shows no abnormalities, measures RIGHT on track, and has a perfect amount of fluid. Everything about my Boxer girl is fabulous. She was doing her usual thing, punching and kicking, and having a blast. She is so fun to watch. I was happy that there doesn't appear to be anything wrong with her.

Angel was a different story. Although there didn't APPEAR to be any deformities, it was hard to tell, as he is SOOOO crumpled up and can't move. He has a TINY TINY TINY amount of fluid, certainly not enough to save him. His legs are crossed so we have no idea what the gender is. We're unable to get a profile shot of him so we also have no idea where he measures. She tried to measure by the head {which they also did a few weeks ago} and he seems to be a bit behind. I was reminded, once again {I think this brings the total "reminders" of this fact to 1.3 billion?} that there is no way Angel will be able to live outside of me. He won't have developed lungs. He cannot live. No matter how many times I hear this, it breaks my heart into a thousand little pieces. So I really wish they would stop telling me something I already know. Angel is also still on my cervix, so Previa problems continue. I was told to stay on bed rest.

I asked if there is any way possible that I can make it to a good gestation before giving birth; the doc had no answer for me. I asked if it is a GOOD sign that I have made it this far; the doc had no answer for me. I asked if this is still considered a crap-shoot; the doc had no answer for me. HOWEVER...she DID say that I have now made it into an "elite" group. The meaning of that statement? I have come further than they thought, so it's possible I can go further.

The uncertainty kills me.

I called SB right away and gave him the update. He was pleased with the results, although he is a bit afraid of having a girl.

So, bed rest continues. Trying to keep the faith continues. Grasping onto a dream with both hands continues. There are still no guarantees. BUT....I've come this far..and I intend to do WHATEVER I can to go ALL THE WAY. I know Boxer and Angel are with me on this one!!

Til next time... For those in the USA...have a WONDERFUL Thanksgiving!!

I'm not ashamed of having infertility-just pissed

This is a test!

What to do! What to do?!!!

Going Private

Never.trust.anyone.

Fried the laptop, not a fan!

We're still here....

Hot town, Boxer in the city...

Random babbling from a crappy blogger...

I know what happened to the good ol' days..

What ever happened to the good ol' days...

A day in the life of a "less than 1% chance to survive" child...

The dusty, old, faded wallpaper.

The attack of the carpenters...

The good, the bad, and the WHAT THE F***

Snow, standing, and teeth {or lack thereof}. Oh my!

....Cause the times, they are a' changing...

Happy December and all that Jazz take 2!

Can I get a twig with a bunch of lights on it please?

Wow

I stare at walls.

Um...this is about 5 entries in one...

I need to find my "happy place". And friekan stay there.

Prayers/Good Vibes requested for a follower of this blog.

A Long over-due update, and a handy list for readers!

This post has taken an eon to publish...

There is a new Queen in Queens..

Boy have I SUCKED at updating~

Quick update...

Please keep up in your thoughts

She may have a reason to start singing a Motley Crue song soon...

Day #51 in the NICU, and she's still being my "Boxer Girl"! **Edited**

NICU + Panic attacks + feeling like a dork in Babies R us = partial story of my life

The ups and downs are making me dizzy..and could be stuffing up my nose???

He's in good hands now....I have to keep telling myself this...

Quick Update

Emotions all over the place...

THEY'RE HERE!!!

Dear Anonymous & her cyber-bullying crap.....

Insert the "Good times" theme song here....

Angel is facing yet another obstacle. But he refuses to give up

Wanted to blog about Angels placenta failing..but first I must say THIS

Been feeling weak again...

I've been in "Girl, Interrupted" hell

Not a good check-in day AT ALL

Nice doctors? What a concept!

Looks like I will be going back...

Scattered thoughts...

Heartbroken, but hopeful.

Quick update...

Feel like I need to do more...

They're still kicking ass!!!

Day #51 in the NICU, and she's still being my "Boxer Girl"! Edited