Things to Remember

Things to remember from this weekend:

1) Taking Jacob to his first library program Friday morning. He was the youngest one there and the only one not able to sit up on his own yet, but he did a good job grabbing and shaking the rattles and such. I think he was a little overwhelmed at first about a large group of people suddenly singing (his lower lip kind of quivered a bit), but overall he seemed to enjoy it. I know I did. Something about just watching him experience things for the first time is just so amazing to me. His eyes were wide for the entire program and then he fell asleep as soon as we started leaving the library.

2) Ordering pizza and watching three episodes of Parenthood with my mom and sister while they took turns holding Jacob.

3) Kathleen's wedding shower on Saturday. It was a beautiful day and nice to get out a bit without the baby and chat with a table full of other girls with babies seven months and younger.

4) Going to church on Sunday with Patrick and Jacob. So far no meltdowns from Jacob during mass - he is always good and quiet. When we first started taking him when he three months hold he would stay in his stroller the whole time, but now he prefers to sit in one of our laps so he can look around and inspect everything. Not going to lie, it's a little hard to focus on the mass sometimes with a cute little baby in your lap.

5) (FINALLY) buying a crib for Jacob at Buy Buy Baby yesterday. Hopefully will get his nursery done soon (I mean, he is over six months old at this point. I feel like everyone else gets their nurseries done before their babies are even born). Long story, but he's still sleeping in our room - since he outgrew the bassinet he's been sleeping in his Pack n Play. Hopefully we'll get the room done soon.

6) Woke up about 5 times last night to find Jacob sleeping on his tummy. I know it's technically "safe" at this age now that he's old enough to roll over on his own but it still scares me a bit. So I kept turning him over so he was on his back again. But then within 30 seconds he would roll onto his side. I'd watch him like that for awhile and fall back asleep and then wake up and he'd be on his tummy again dangerously close to the side of his Pack n Play. So I would turn him again and... this basically went on all night. Needless to say I didn't sleep very well.

So, that was our last weekend of August 2016. Coming up this week: Jacob's first eye doctor appointment on Wednesday...

Typical Tuesday

As I write this, Cooper is sitting on one side of me (even though he prefers Patrick, who is at work), Jacob is lying on the couch on the other side of me, talking to his toys, and I'm working on my press releases that are due today (well, I was before I started writing this). It's 9:14 am and I'm still in my pajamas and my hair needs to be brushed. I can only work and write so long before I feel like I have to play with Jacob, or Cooper, or both. Both of them look to me all day for their entertainment and their needs. When they're hungry, when they're thirsty, when they're bored, when they have to go to the bathroom (or already have in Jacob's case). I try to juggle being there for them 100% while also working for a paycheck and keeping the house in check.

I haven't run since before Jacob was born, but since 6 weeks postpartum I've been doing workout DVDs. When I do get a chance to go out, I choose to walk Cooper instead of run by myself. Cooper is rarely as happy as when he gets to go out on those walks. Too bad walking him and pushing a baby stroller at the same time is such a hassle.

I miss doing youth ministry. We've been taking Jacob to mass every Sunday and so far he's been really good. No meltdowns. He's quiet. He just likes looking around at the different surroundings.

I miss writing for fun. I barely even have time to journal anymore.

I love Jacob more than running, writing and youth ministry though. And I love all of those things a hell of a lot.

Jacob has tired of talking to his toys so I have to go.

Beyond Exist

I have a baby boy, and he’s almost a month old already. It’s crazy how quickly this month has passed, considering how slowly time crawled in the days leading up to his birth.

On the night of February 17th, 2016, Patrick and I arrived at the hospital about 8:30 pm. I filled out the admission paperwork while he parked the car. The lady who handled my admission led us up to our private labor and delivery room, where a nurse had me change into a hospital gown. I got an IV and was connected to monitors on my belly that measured my contractions and the baby’s heart rate and movement.

At 10 pm, I got my first dose of an induction drug called Cytotec. I ended up getting three doses of this drug, one every two hours, the last being at 2 am. Patrick was able to nap a little bit, but my mind was racing and I couldn’t sleep at all. I kept concentrating on every little twinge and every little bit of pressure in my belly and wondering if the contractions were really starting. It was between 2 and 3 am that the contractions really started getting stronger, but they were still tolerable.

The doctors decided that it would be a good time for me to get an epidural at 3 am. They wanted to do this thing where they put a “balloon” type thing in my cervix to help it dilate, and apparently it could be very uncomfortable and painful. So they wanted to start me on the drugs before that.

The epidural itself might have been the worst part for me, pain-wise. I didn’t look at the needle but I had heard about how big it was, and I saw the face Patrick made when he saw it. I’ve always been a baby about needles and I was afraid of how much it would hurt. I was also very nervous because the anesthesiologist kept saying how important it was that I NOT move, and I was so scared that I would jerk involuntarily from the pain and botch up the whole thing.

I wanted to hold Patrick’s hand, but they told him he had to sit down. (Apparently husbands sometimes faint from seeing an epidural administered. Lovely.) So it was the nurse who held my hands and tried to hold me still.

It did hurt – a lot – but I managed to stay still enough I guess (though I suspected that the drug was working just a little bit more on my left side than my right.) They confirmed that the epidural was working well and then everyone left the room, encouraging me to get some sleep.

The next 15 minutes were the calm before the storm. The room was empty besides me and Patrick, and it was as quiet as it could be in a hospital. I really did attempt to fall asleep, as futile as it was.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the room was swarming with doctors and nurses. It was absolute chaos and I had no idea what was going on. I heard words like heart rate and blood pressure and C-section. My body started shaking uncontrollably, and then I felt a popping and wet sensation. A doctor had put a monitor directly on the baby’s head, and in the process had broken my water. I was also given a shot of adrenaline in my leg. Someone threw Patrick a pair of scrubs for the operating room and someone else put a surgery cap on my head and started to disconnect me from all of the wires so I could be wheeled to the operating room. This all happened in a matter of moments.

Then, as quickly as it had started, everything calmed down – the baby’s heart rate was back up to the 120s. Still a little low, but it was going back to normal. I was still shaking as a doctor explained to me what had happened. The epidural had made my blood pressure drop, while the induction drugs had made my contractions come on too strong and too close together. The combination of these things had caused the baby’s heart rate to plummet to the 30s, when normal for a baby in the womb is about 130 to 170, or something like that. The shot of adrenaline had slowed down my contractions, though, and his heart rate had climbed back up. They had also gotten my blood pressure back to normal.

It was about 3:30 or 4 in the morning when the doctor from my practice arrived in his street clothes, his coat still on as he checked the monitor and assessed the situation. They had called him to come in, in the middle of the night. He didn’t seem too worried, which calmed us down a bit. I was wondering at that point if we should just do the c-section  (even though I didn't want one) to get the baby out just in case. But the doctor said he didn’t think the baby’s heart rate would drop like that again. He wanted to continue going for a vaginal delivery, but he decided to take a short break from the induction drugs to give the baby a chance to rest. Also, they decided not to do the balloon thing after all because when they checked me after the whole debacle, I was already 4.5 centimeters dilated.

About two hours later they started me on a low dose of a different induction drug, Pitocin. But it wasn’t too long before they decided to stop that one, too, because it was making the baby’s heart rate a little wonky again. Not as bad as before, but still enough to concern them. At that point I felt like I was going to be in labor forever because they had to keep stopping the drugs.

But then the doctor checked me and I was suddenly nine centimeters dilated, somehow! He looked as surprised as I was. It was still early in the morning, and we had expected the entire labor process to go into the evening at least. He predicted now that I would be fully dilated and pushing within the hour.

Patrick started texting family members with an update on the situation, since they hadn’t planned on coming into the hospital so early. Meanwhile, only about fifteen minutes later it seemed (sooner than the doctor had predicted), I was fully dilated and being told to push.

Pushing seemed like the most impossible task I’d ever been set to in my life. It really felt like my efforts were making no difference whatsoever and that he was never going to come out of me. It turned out I didn’t have to push that long, though. The whole process was making his heart rate dip again, and they wanted him out of me, and quickly. So they ended up using a vacuum to help pull the baby out while I pushed. In addition to that, I ended up getting a FOURTH DEGREE LACERATION as the baby made his entrance into the world.

Suddenly, out of thin air it seemed, there he was, my baby, all seven pounds ten ounces of him. Jacob William Murphy, born at 8:27 am on February 18, 2016. And he was crying and he looked so normal and healthy and I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved in my entire life. It was a moment I had been waiting so long for, after experiencing miscarriage and 41 long weeks of this pregnancy. He was here, and he was okay. We had made it.

They brought him over to me briefly so I could see him, but I honestly can’t remember if I held him then or not. The doctor explained that they were taking him to the side of the room for a bit to clean him up and stuff while the he and the residents “fixed me” (his words). I told Patrick to stay with the baby.

I spent the first 40 minutes or so of my son’s life being sewn back together. Which was a little frustrating when all I really wanted to do was hold my baby, but at some point they did come and place him on my chest (even though they weren’t done stitching me up yet).

Eventually they were ready to wheel me out of the labor and delivery room and into a recovery room. On the way there, they stopped my bed in the hallway for a moment so that our family members in the waiting room could have a quick peek at the baby, who was still on my chest.

For some reason, that was the moment I started crying: when my parents and sister and Patrick’s mom saw the baby for the first time. When they were able to see what we had accomplished. It was real, and we had created a new person. The whole concept is so entirely overwhelming.

This past month has been a blur of diaper changes and feedings and middle of the night wakeups and stressing out if my son’s breathing is normal or not. (Apparently it is.)

The healing process has been rough. Almost four weeks later and it still hurts. It feels like it’s never going to be the same, honestly.

At least my baby is okay. He’s napping in his little swinging seat right in front of me. Even after almost a month, it’s hard for me to believe this is real.

I’m still getting to know this baby who is my son. I love him and I’m terrified for his well-being, but I really don’t know that much about him yet. I know that he eats and sleeps a lot. He doesn’t really cry much unless he’s hungry or gassy or just wants to be held. He makes the cutest face when he stretches and he gets the hiccups twice a day. He likes to be sung to, and when you talk to him, he stares at you as if he’s trying really hard to figure out what it is exactly that you’re saying.

Even though he doesn’t really do much yet beyond exist, and has certainly not done anything to convey that he might love me back, I love him. Why do we love our offspring so much? Why would we sacrifice our lives for beings we’ve barely just met? I guess if it didn’t work that way, humanity and the human race would have died out a long time ago.

I’d better stop writing because Jacob’s waking up. It used to be that my number one job was writing. I guess that’s changed for the rest of my life, and his.

Rainbow Baby

How Different Things Are

The first thing I noticed was that she wasn’t swimming. 

Actually, no, that’s not entirely true. The very first thing I noticed was that the baby looked gigantic compared to the little peanut we had seen at the last ultrasound almost five weeks earlier. For the first time, we got to see a baby that looked like a baby, and it was terribly exciting.
 

Everything had been going well up to that point. We got all good news at our first prenatal appointment and ultrasound. I was having morning sickness and feeling tired all the time, but it seemed like a fair price to pay. No bleeding, no weird pains, no problems.

But the baby wasn’t moving, and it took me a little while to register that it should be. The peanut had been basically just floating in space at the last ultrasound, after all. My pregnant friends had told me prior to this appointment that it would be a fun one. “You actually get to see the baby kicking and swimming around in there,” they said.

Not the baby on the screen in front of us, though. She was just lying there as Patrick and I commented on how cute she looked. “Should he be moving?” I asked the ultrasound tech (at the time, I didn’t know the gender of the baby and thought it was a boy). 

The ultrasound tech was slow to respond. She just seemed very preoccupied with her work, however. She didn’t seem like the most personable person in the world, which was strange considering her occupation.

Then I realized that I didn’t hear anything. At the last ultrasound, we had heard the baby’s heartbeat, loud and clear. But maybe the ultrasound tech just hadn’t turned on the audio part of the machine yet, or listening to the heartbeat was something separate from the ultrasound, I thought. I had no idea how those things worked and no real reason yet to think that something was wrong. “Should we be hearing the heartbeat?” I asked casually. 

The ultrasound tech still wasn’t responding. She was just moving the ultrasound stick a lot and staring at the screen. She was reminding me of how Patrick can be sometimes when I have to ask the same question multiple times before he responds – you know, typical husband behavior.

Finally, though, she spoke. “I’m really sorry,” she said with a tortured look in her eyes, “but I can’t find a heartbeat.”

That was the moment when life began not feeling real, like I was dreaming and would wake up at any moment. Like my life split in half and forked into two different directions: the path it was supposed to go, and the path I was currently on.

I’ll spare you guys the details of what happened next. I’ll spare myself the details of what happened next.


***

Obviously, a lot has happened since I last updated this blog.  

1) I got married.

2) I got pregnant.

3) I was then no longer pregnant.

4) I finally quit a job that hasn’t been making me happy for a very long time, and

5) We got a puppy.

 

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been afraid of dogs. Well, as an adult I tolerate them more than fear them, but I’ve never been quite a fan. (Every dog I pass by when I’m running, for example, barks as though it wants to destroy me.)

So when Patrick started suggesting that we get a puppy sometime last year, I humored him and said I would consider it. But the truth was, I didn’t think I would ever be fully comfortable in my home with a dog in it.

We went to North Shore Animal League a couple of times just to look. While the dogs were cute, they were also loud and smelly and I could not see myself committing to a lifetime of that.

I’m not exactly sure what changed in my heart when we first found Cooper at North Shore Animal League. We were still in the heavy grieving process from the miscarriage and had gone to look at puppies to cheer ourselves up. We weren’t intending to adopt that day.

Most of the dogs were as hyper and barky and jumpy and poopy as usual. Then there was Cooper, a black and white collie mix sleeping calmly in his cage, barely three pounds in weight. Of course he wasn’t Cooper yet; that name didn’t come to me until later.

We asked to hold him. I was a little nervous to hold him at first, afraid he would bite me. But he was so tiny and had the softest fur I had ever felt. He didn’t even bark at all. Instead of biting me, he fell asleep in my arms almost instantly. And then our wedding song, “Stand by Me,” started playing over the animal shelter’s radio, and it just felt like a sign. Patrick and I were meant to have this little guy, who had just arrived at the shelter from North Carolina earlier that afternoon.

I’m not stupid. I know a puppy could never replace the human child that we lost. But sometimes it does feel like Cooper is a little angel that was sent to us to help fill a deep void that was left after that fateful ultrasound appointment. (Even though he definitely doesn’t always act like an angel like he did that very first moment we held him.)

It’s been almost two months and already Cooper has taught us so much more about parenting than Patrick and I could have ever imagined. He wakes us up multiple times in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. We’ve had a number of unexpected vet visits. We’ve cleaned up more poop than we thought possible from such a tiny animal. We’ve dealt with extreme tantrums followed minutes later by extreme cuddle sessions. We’ve started to experience what it means to have unconditional love for someone who is not always easy to take care of.

Cooper is definitely keeping us busy and honing our skills for when do become parents (and we’re trusting God that we will, someday). He drives us crazy but makes us laugh and smile every day. At moments when I am at my most down, thinking about the baby and the life that we lost, I need only look at this silly puppy face and my spirits are, at least, a little bit lifted.

He’s such a big part of our life now that I can’t even imagine how we never would have known him if that doctor’s appointment had gone differently. If that baby had been swimming, I would be at a cubicle right now writing someone else’s work instead of my own. Of course I would have done it gladly if it meant that our baby girl could have lived and been healthy. It’s just weird to think about how different things would be. How different things are.

It’s a Monday afternoon and I’m on my living room couch, typing this in yoga pants. I’m about to go let Cooper out of his crate, where he has to stay most of the time so that he doesn’t tear the stitches he got after getting neutered on Thursday. I will feed him lunch and probably clean up his poop for the fourth time today. I will pick him up and hug him, if he will let me. (He may be in the mood to play with his toys instead.) I will do some more freelance work to make sure I have enough money to pay my bills. I will work on my novel. I will start my new ongoing endeavor to keep our house clean (a feat that is not easy or even possible when both husband and wife work full time). I will teach myself how to cook better and become the wife I always wanted to be, and hopefully someday become the mother and the writer that I want to be.

In everything I do for now on, I will do my best not to waste the life that I have.


Cooper Murphy

Wedding Dress Shopping, Food Tasting, and November.

Some good things have happened since my last post. One of the best things is that I bought my wedding dress. Of course I can't show you a picture of the one I actually got, but this is a picture of me in my second choice dress, just to give you an idea:

Reminder: this is NOT the dress I bought!!

The whole dress shopping experience was surreal. It started on a Saturday morning at a place called Marra's Bridal Boutique in Oceanside. My mom and my sisters Gina and Suzanne came with me, and we were treated like royalty the entire time. I tried on - I don't know - 20 dresses? And we were never rushed at all. Some of the dresses were awful. Some of them were okay. Some of them were good. Then we found one that we thought was The One. But then I tried on another dress that everyone liked more. I also tried on veils. None of it seemed real.

Right after that appointment I had another one at David's Bridal. For that one, my mom, my sisters Gina and Melissa, Patrick's mom, and my future sister-in-law Jen were in attendance. I tried on a lot more dresses, most of which were good but the customer service there left something to be desired compared to my experience at Marra's. Ultimately, I ended up with one favorite dress at each store. And the entire experience was utterly exhausting. I think I took a three hour nap that afternoon. 

In the end I chose the dress from Marra's. Most of the people I showed the pictures to voted for that one, and part of me just felt better about giving my money to a family-owned bridal boutique than a major corporation that didn't even help me try on the 50 pound dresses - she just pulled the dresses for me. And at one point during my appointment, she started helping someone else! Anyway.

So the following Saturday I went back to Marra's, this time with Gina, Melissa, Jen, and my friends Michelle and Annemarie. Melissa and Jen, who had also seen the David's Bridal dress, both said they liked the Marra's dress better. Annemarie and Michelle gave the thumbs up too. I also bought a veil. 

Now I just have to get the dress fitted. Unfortunately I still have 10 months left to do that.

On Sunday Patrick and I went to a food tasting at Stewart Manor Country Club, where we're having our wedding reception. Stewart Manor is another example of a place that is perhaps a bit smaller but won my business with exceptional customer service. I got to view this lovely floral piece during the food tasting:

Which got me (even more) excited for our October wedding.

November sped by between Thanksgiving and a random trip to Williamsburg with Patrick and his brother. History gives me perspective. Writing my own history gives me perspective too. That's why this blog isn't pointless, even if no one reads it! :)

Good Things and God Things.

This weekend was full of good stuff and God stuff.

1) After a little bit of a late start to the weekend (I did some overtime at work to add to the wedding fund), Patrick and I headed over to my future sister-in-law's sister's house to do some pumpkin carving. And drink pumpkin beers. Because at this time of year you can never have too much pumpkin. 

Basically, we turned these:

Into these:

And I also go to play with a baby. So overall, very good night.


2. The next morning, Saturday, I woke up at 5:30 am. Yes, 5:30 am. I headed over to the Mascolo residence to carpool with Michelle & Annemarie to the Seminary of the Immaculate Conception. There was this event called the Long Island Catholic Women's Conference that a few of my friends had helped organize, and we knew a bunch of other people that were going too. It was a nice day at a beautiful place, and I got to see a lot of awesome people, and take a break from life for a bit, and think about God and things. So yeah.

3. After that awesomeness, I was very exhausted and very tempted to go home and go to sleep. But my friend Charlie, who is basically one of the most awesome people in the universe, was having a birthday party in Brooklyn. 

Something strange happens when you get into a long term relationship. You get lazy. It suddenly seems so much more appealing to stay in on a Saturday night and watch Netflix instead of getting dressed up and traveling into the city or whatever. But I'm realizing now that maybe we should make more of an effort to do just that while we still can, while we're still young. The wedding is a year away, and we want to start having kids not long after that, and then there will be no more late night trips into Brooklyn.

So, we went. And I'm really glad we did. There's something you get out of actual socialization and conversation with new people that you just can't get out of Netflix. Another bonus is that Charlie's group of friends are pretty much all Catholic, and "cool" Catholics. There's nothing like talking to a girl who basically resembles a tall model in a hipster wardrobe, but is also wearing a religious bracelet and is telling you about the year of missionary work she did in Brazil. Or the cute couple relaying how awesome a trip to the Cloisters was. Or the trendy girls who launched their own legit magazine (Verily magazine) because publications like Cosmo are trashy. The Catholic young adult scene in New York City is so amazing I wouldn't even believe it existed if I didn't see it myself. 

Also, there was a bocce ball court in the middle of the bar (Union Hall). And the bathroom was co-ed. So there was that.

4. This morning I discovered that I am no longer capable of having more than two beers without succumbing to a major hangover. This is unfortunate. But, I had to get out of bed eventually because at 2 pm Patrick and I were scheduled to see a house in Melville again that we saw last week, this time with Patrick's parents. I fell in love with the house a little bit more, but I'm trying not to get my hopes up. There's already another "interested party" trying to outbid us. This. Is. Stressful.

5. Had another youth group meeting tonight. The topic was love. The teens were awesome. Chatting with the other core members after was awesome too. The more I experience in life the more I understand why God wants us to live a certain way. I feel like if I had lived up to that "ideal," I would have saved me from having so many painful memories and baggage. But living in 2013 makes being Catholic very hard for so many reasons. (Not that it was ever easy, now that I think about it. Pretty much all of the 12 apostles got tortured and killed.)

I'm going to leave you all with this quote from the incredible C.S. Lewis displayed in a nifty little graphic by the chicks at Verily magazine:

Prominent Peace & Patience.

A sad truth about running is that if you don't do it for a week, it's really hard to start again. Before tonight, I hadn't run in almost two weeks mostly thanks to a cold. (Can't really run if you can't breathe, right?) Also, it's been getting colder, and darker earlier, two things that make the act of running not as appealing. 

I forced myself out the door tonight anyway, even though the sky threatened rain and sunset was scheduled in another 11 minutes. Only got in 2.7 something miles. Better than nothing though, right?

I need to stop running so much anyway and start doing more workout DVDs and cross training if I'm going to tone up for the wedding. Today's wedding dresses demand prominent collar bones. It's a fact.

Came across this on the internet the other day:

I find it interesting because if anything, I tend to get depressed sometimes, while Patrick tends to get anxious. We need to learn how to just meet in the middle. Two words popping up in my prayers lately are peace and patience. (I like how that sentence was unintentionally alliterate.)

Also! I am blinder this week than I was last week because I have been proofing calendar PDFs nonstop at work. My eyes were literally hurting by the end of each work day. I wonder if editors and writers are doomed to have poor eyesight from staring at computer screens all day.

In other news, I finally upgraded to ioS7 and now I feel like I have a new phone. (I'm sure my phone screen isn't helping with my vision, either.)

Gotta go. My eyes hurt.