New Year's Resolution

I am not a fan of New Years resolutions (even though we do own a few gyms and I should think that everyone's resolution should be to hit the gym every day...and bring a friend to sign up with you... but that's beside the point). Most resolutions center around outward appearance - sticking to diets, workout regimens, losing weight, etc. and people don't stick to them because they don't make the lifestyle change.

I've had alot of time to think this through during the countless hours of nursing my son in the wee hours of the morning and all through the night - I've decided that I am going to make a resolution this year. It won't be to tone my flabby abs or to lose the rest of my baby weight because that will come in time; it won't be to eat super healthy and cut out the cookies because frankly I just eat what I can scarf down in two minutes and I'm just plain addicted to the lactation cookies that I make. My Resolution is to be less judgmental.

For some time I've had this running list in my head about how I wanted my kid(s) to turn out and I've carefully observed parenting styles used by others and their effectiveness. I tried not to judge people, but now that I look back on it I really did -- but I did it secretly in my head. I'd say to myself, "Oh, they let their kid suck on a pacifier." or "They use those kind of diapers." or "They let their kid sleep where?"....things like that. Nothing major but enough to make a mental note about.

It's funny though because once I had Woody, things I never thought I'd do or say were done or said. And that's when I realized how judgmental I had been...even though I was a closet judger. The other thing that hit me like a ton of bricks was how judgmental others could be -- suddenly once I had Woody everyone else seemed to be the expert on how to raise MY child. People knew exactly when and what he should eat and when and where he should sleep and how much he should be held, etc.. And not only did they know these things for certain, but they also knew that my choices were going to change my child's life forever. Imagine that, I had already ruined my kid's entire future within the first three weeks of his life...according to all of the judgments made by others. I didn't like the way that people made me feel when they judged me. I knew that I was the best Mom that I could be and that Woodrow was not going to suffer in any way, shape or form just because I held him or that he wanted to be close to his mommy.

So that's when I made my decision. Instead of making mental notes and secretly judging people about what they feed their kids or what toys they let their children play with, I'm going to think about these things and remind myself that these are the choices that they've made for their family. I'll remind myself that I have choices also, some of which may or may not be in line with the way that others have chosen. To all of you who I secretly judged, I owe you a sincere apology.

After losing my Parren Tony and then my Papa Woodrow, I realize that life is too short to spend judging others. I'm choosing to make 2011 a year of positive thoughts and actions. No more judgement calls in my head...we all have choices and decisions to make with how we raise our children -- and just because they may differ, does not mean that they are bad...it just makes for a more interesting World!

So in the future, if you're talking to me and you hear a judgmental comment come out of my mouth, please KINDLY remind me of this blog so that I can be more aware of my thoughts and actions. You can call me Judge Judy!

HELLP Me

I'm sorry to keep everyone in suspense about the rest of my labor and delivery story. Caring for Woodrow is a full time job and opening my computer has not been top on my list most days! Also, I still had not had time to figure out what exactly the diagnosis I received meant (thank God for Google!). So here's the rest of the saga...

The pain that I felt in my chest, that I thought was heart burn at first, turned out to be my liver swelling! Yep, my LIVER! I knew I wasn't crazy when I told the resident on call that my pain was not from contractions! The diagnosis is called HELLP Syndrome (H=hemolysis...breakdown of red blood cells; EL=elevated liver enzymes....liver function; LP=low platelet count...platelets help blood to clot). Some say it is linked with Preeclampsia but it is still not certain. The symptoms often mimic other illnesses and it is often misdiagnosed (as it was in my case).

When the nurse started hooking me up to monitors and got the blood results back when we arrived at the hospital, they quickly saw that my liver enzymes were elevated, my blood platelet level was dangerously low, and my blood pressure was sky high. I was told that 150 is an acceptable number for the blood platelets and 20 is really bad and 17 is critical...my blood platelet level that night was at 18! My blood pressure shot up to 171/101. This was no joking matter and the doctors and nurses had to act quickly. I was immediately given Magnesium Sulfate which they told me was to get my blood pressure down (I also just read that it helps to prevent seizures, which is what happens if preeclampsia is not treated). The only way to treat HELLP syndrome is to deliver the baby. Thank God that I was full term when my symptoms came on.

After Woodrow was born, my symptoms were more under control, but did not immediately go away. I was hooked up to every machine imaginable and had about 3 IVs in my arms...I felt like a human guinea pig and pin cushion all at the same time! Because my platelet level was so low, they gave me 2 units of platelets and because I was borderline anemic anyway, I also received 2 units of blood (the blood was not 100% necessary but they said that my recovery from all of this would take much longer...like several months...if I chose not to get the blood). I was still hooked up to the Magnesium, which made me feel so flush and hot -- I knew I was abnormally hot when my mom came to the hospital and SHE was freezing in the room! Because they were still trying to get my blood pressure under control, I stayed in the Labor and Delivery room for an extra day or two. I was not able to get out of bed for two days, which meant that Jeff had to care for Woodrow (all except for feeding him). It was the first time he changed a diaper, and I have to say that he did a great job! Those first few days were extremely stressful - trying to process everything that happened, hoping that the symptoms would get under control, and trying to take care of a newborn on top of it all! It was definitely not the unmedicated natural childbirth that I had prepared for, but in the end I had a beautiful, healthy son and my health was beginning to improve!

So after being in the hospital for 5 days, we were finally discharged! All I wanted to do was go home - I knew that I would start feeling better and I wanted to be in my own bed without nurses and doctors coming in at all hours of the night. Now the first few nights (and weeks) of having my newborn home were harder than I ever imagined. What did it mean when he cried...was he hungry, wet, dirty, cold, scared, all of the above?!?? And to top it off, I was still recovering from major surgery and dealing with a large incision - getting in and out of bed for every feeding was a major ordeal...but it had to be done.

Everyone is right...it gets a little easier with each passing day. Woody is now 7 weeks old (well, he'll be 7 weeks tomorrow) and I think I know some of his cries. I feel like I live in a constant state of adjustment - and just when I think I have everything figured out, it changes! Woody lost a bit of weight after birth due to the slow start I had and all of the magnesium that they pumped into me. But he is growing and learning all kinds of new things each day!!! He loves to snuggle and is such a good boy. He usually cries to let you know that he needs something - but other than that, he's pretty content. He still like being close to Mommy most of the time, although he enjoys his swing, bouncy seat and colorful floor mat at times! He finally cooed and gave me a big smile yesterday for the first time! This morning I woke up to more smiles! It won't be long before our home will be filled with a babbling baby instead of just a crying one!!

Here are a few new photos - I am in the process of working on his birth announcement (which is also taking longer than expected because of not opening my computer!). I hope to have it finished before his first birthday!!!!

Woodrow and Daddy swinging in the back yard with Allison, the "mommy" dog...she is always checking on Woody and is quick to let me know when he is crying!

Watching the Saints vs. Cowboys game with sleepy eyes on Thanksgiving Day.

Woody and his Woody doll from Papa Icee Bear!

"Hey Mom!"

Woodrow's One Month Picture...he slept right through it!

The Circle of Life

So many of my friends were pregnant when I was and I always looked forward to reading their Birth Stories after the baby was born. I was eager to see how each child chose to make his/her debut into this world. Our story is a little different - instead of it being a Birth Story, I see it more as a Circle of Life Story...

Most of you know that my Parren Tony (Woodrow Anthony Gisclair) passed away about 18 months ago (two short weeks after our wedding). I was very close to him and his sudden death was very hard on our entire family. We all felt like he was looking down on all of us during the Saints winning season and especially during the Super Bowl (they have had season tickets for over 30 years I believe...true members of the Who Dat Nation!). So when Jeffrey and I figured out that we had a true Super Bowl baby, I was praying that the baby would be born on his birthday (November 15th) - I thought, "This baby is meant to be born on my Parren's birthday" even though my due date was November 6th...I was willing to hold out.

Towards the very end of my pregnancy my Papa (my mom's father) started to not feel well. He had been on dialysis for the past 5-6 years and had been a real trooper. But we could tell that something just wasn't right...and he could too. Due to some very serious health complications, his health declined very rapidly. He was sent home from the hospital and my mom and aunt set up Hospice. Our last weekend together as an entire family (my sister and cousins were all there) was so special. My Papa was still able to enjoy that time with everyone even though he was slowing down and was very tired. Within the next week his condition changed dramatically. With everything that my Papa had been through in his lifetime, I don't think he ever knew pain. At the end of his life, with everything that was happening inside of his body, he never showed signs of being in pain. Over that week, I tried to spend as much time with him as possible - driving back and forth from New Orleans or spending the night when I could.

During the end of that week I started not to feel so good. The stress of everything going on was beginning to take it's toll on my very pregnant body even though I was trying to be strong. I started having some really bad heartburn. After I had taken the daily maximum of Tums and was still having major discomfort from the heartburn, I had Jeff call the doctor on call that Friday night (October 29th). He told me what to get over the counter and said that gas bubbles can get trapped around the diaphragm and it would result in the pain that I was describing. So I took the recommended medications and had a little relief. Saturday morning I had a slow start from not sleeping well the night before. I planned on staying home to rest but something in my heart told me that I should go down the bayou to be with my Papa and my family. So that afternoon I pulled myself together and Jeff and I headed out. From talking to my mom and seeing the rapid decline in my Papa's condition, I knew that the end was very near. When Jeff and I pulled up and walked up to the back door, my mom met us at the door. I could tell from the look on her face that the time had come - my Papa - the patriarch of our family, the WWII veteran, the shrimper, trapper, business owner, craftsman and all around lover of life for 91 years- had passed away. Throughout my pregnancy, my Papa and I had talked about the baby in my belly often and he was looking forward to finding out if it was a girl or a boy - he knew that if it was a boy, it would be named after him and my Parren Tony. His favorite saying was "Look at Kasey - you know, she looks pregnant!" - he was such a kidder and his sense of humor was present until the very end.

When his health started rapidly declining and I was a week away from my due date and my body had not changed to prepare for labor in 5 weeks prior, Jeffrey and I discussed with my doctor the options for birth. I wanted to have a natural birth so bad and we even rented a birthing tub. But my doctor became concerned that the baby was continuing to get bigger with each passing day and might not be able to fit through my small pelvis (we were both hoping that I would have gone into labor a little earlier before the baby packed on the extra pounds at the very end of pregnancy). The stress was working against my body. But with the end near for my grandfather, I had to really weigh if/when to schedule a c-section and I had to get the timing just right so that I would still be able to make it to the funeral services. I was very torn and mixed up - it didn't feel right for me to choose the day my child would be born. The dates we chose to try for an elective c-section did not work out and so my doctor and I decided that we would schedule it for November 6th (my due date...and my doctor was on call that day!). When my Papa passed away on Saturday, October 30th, I thought it was meant to be that we could not schedule the surgery sooner - that way I would be able to make it to the wake and funeral...and if my body went into labor naturally that week then we would work around it and it would have been meant to be for me to deliver naturally.

So that Sunday (the day after he passed away), I was feeling really bad again with this pain in my chest that I thought was heartburn. We tried the medications again that the previous on-call doctor recommended, but the pain was not going away. Needless to say, I got absolutely no sleep and the doctor on-call asked if I could hold out until the regular office hours on Monday morning to talk with my doctor...so I held out. Monday rolled around and Jeff made several calls throughout the day to my doctor who called in a few different heartburn medications. With each medication, the pain seemed to get worse instead of better. By mid-morning on Monday, I realized that I was in too much pain and that I would have to miss my Papa's wake. In my heart, I felt ok about that because I had time to say my goodbyes earlier and I knew I had spent as much time with him as I could. By Monday evening, I was writhing in pain and finally told Jeff to call my doctor and tell him that I needed to go to the emergency room. I have a very high tolerance for pain - and it was not contractions that were causing the pain, it was something else that I just couldn't put my finger on...I just knew that something wasn't right and I was not able to control or handle the pain on my own any longer. My doctor said not to go to the emergency room, but instead to go to the Labor & Delivery unit at the hospital and they would admit and assess me. So that's what we did.

We got to the hospital around 9 or 10pm. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity for a room, they got me settled in and hooked up to the monitors. It appeared that I was having some contractions that were kind of semi-regular and so I asked Jeff to call our doula. Blood work was eventually ordered and I was checked out by the nurses and resident on call. The pain was now in my chest cavity, under my right ribs and in my upper back...but the worst pain was under my ribs. It was decided that a c-section would be performed at 6:30am the following morning and they were going to get me an epidural and help to get me comfortable. Jeff and our doula, Heidi, were doing everything they could to help me to manage the constant pain. When the resident on call came in and told me the plan for the surgery the next morning, I asked what was going to be done about this pain under my ribs. She said it was contractions. I told her no, that I have had tons of Braxton Hicks contractions throughout my entire pregnancy and I knew what it felt like for my uterus to contract -- this pain was constant and was not going away and it was getting worse. So she left and the next thing I saw was an anesthesiologist dressed in surgical attire, nurses with those paper hair net things on their heads, IV bags being hung, and people pushing paperwork at me saying that they needed consent for surgery immediately. My doula quietly whispered to me that I should ask why there was a change in the plan. I asked but I honestly don't remember what the answer was. I was in so much pain that I was thrilled at the news that they were going to take the baby out sooner.

The nurses quickly gave Jeff some scrubs and told him to stay there and change clothes and that they would come to get him once I was prepped. Before that I could see Jeff and Doula Heidi passing their cell phones back and forth to each other after the nurses would come in and tell them what was going on. Part of me at the time was thinking, I really wish they would get off of their phones and help me...but I figured out quickly that they were trying to get information from the limited bits that the nurses shared and they WERE trying to help me as best they could with the information that they were looking up. They both knew the severity of my condition...I was the one that was clueless!

As they whisked me away for surgery, I remember that I didn't even get to kiss Jeff before I was pushed into the hallway. It made me a little sad, but I knew that I was in good hands and that I'd see him in a few minutes once I was prepped. Everything happened so fast. My doctor was on-call (thank God) and was called in. Nice little me, not realizing what was going on, actually apologized to him for getting him out of bed in the middle of the night! As they were prepping me, I kept watching the door and waiting for Jeff. I didn't want him to miss the birth and I didn't know why it was taking so long for them to get him. Finally I heard the doctor say that they were ready for Dad to come in. I was so relieved when I saw Jeff. I knew it had to be tough for him waiting in the room ... watching each second tick by and knowing what the nurses shared with him about my condition and not being able to help me or be there with me for that 15 minutes of prep. Within about 5 minutes of Jeff coming in I heard the doctor say that he saw a head full of hair...then he said, this is a big baby! I kept wondering...what is it, what is it?!?!? And then I heard it...the first cries of our son...our son, Woodrow Claude Bealer! Woodrow was born at 1:46am on Tuesday, November 2nd - the same day that my Papa (Woodrow Robert) would be buried. I started to cry when I heard it was a boy and I looked at Jeff and I'm sure there were tears in his eyes, although it was hard for me to see with the mask and garb he had on. In the midst of all of the sadness of losing my Papa there was now great joy that followed! Part of me was sad that I was never able to tell my Papa that we had a boy and his name would be carried on - but part of me knew that their souls had crossed paths before the time of Woody's birth. I'm sure my Papa and my Parren Tony were loving on him before I could even set eyes on him - I'm sure that they were sharing with him about our special family and telling him about all of the wonderful things that he would encounter once he was born!

For a long time I was wondering if history would repeat itself in my life and that each time I would have great joy in my life if it would be followed by great sadness. When my Papa got really sick I thought for sure that life was playing a nasty trick on me. How could this happen two times in a row (first with my uncle then with my Papa). But I was wrong - the timing of my Papa's death and Woodrow's birth were written long ago. It was meant to happen this way. Woodrow's birth was such a blessing at this really tough time for my family - you could say it kept some people going and gave others hope. This is why I called this Woodrow's Circle of Life Story instead of his Birth Story.

I will write more in the next blog about what exactly happened to me during and after delivery - but for now - this blog is to remember the Woodrows and Claudes that came before our Woodrow Claude - may they guide him and help to shape him into the wonderfully strong and honorable men that they once were.

My Papa - Woodrow Robert Gisclair

Jeff's Papu - Claude Winfred Blevins

I'll write more about him in another blog!

Jeff was very close to his grandfather also and he passed away in 1991.

Woodrow Claude Bealer at one day old.

He scratched his little face up with his fingernails but it healed really quickly!

Proud Daddy Jeffrey with his son Woodrow Claude the day he was born!

I am clearly on drugs in this picture - but it's one of the first that was taken after I got to hold my son for the first time!

Our Doula, Heidi Duncan! Thank you Heidi for all of your guidance throughout my pregnancy and being there for me and Jeff during the birth of our son!

In the Last Twelve Days of Pregnancy, my baby gave to me...

In the Last Twelve Days of Pregnancy, My Baby Gave to Me...

12 trips to the bathroom (in 2 hours!)

11 kicks an hour (already an over-achiever, I know!)

10 swollen toesies

9 long months of waiting (almost over!)

8 glass of water (which results in #12!)

7 o'clock wake up kicks to get Mommy out of bed

6 Tums for heartburn

Contractions that are FFIIIIIIIIVVVVVVVEEEEEEEE minutes apart

4 pillows to prop up the belly

3 midnight cravings fulfilled

2 feet i can no longer see

and...

1 GIANT BELLY!!!!!

The Expected...and the Unexpected

As of Saturday (10/16/10) I was 37 weeks which is technically considered FULL TERM!!!! Although I still have three more weeks until my due date, the baby can now be born and will do very well outside of the womb. During this week I can joke that I swallowed a watermelon seed because the baby is now the size of a watermelon! However, I don't think I want to think on such a grand scale at this point in the game knowing that the "watermelon" has to squeeze out of a space that, well, we'll just say it's much smaller than a watermelon!

"Sally O'Malley" is definitely perfecting the "stretch" part of the "Kick, Stretch, and Kick" routine (refer back to earlier blog if you are clueless about Sally O'Malley). Still very active and has found a new favorite spot...my rib cage!! Since my feet are beginning to swell if I don't rest, I have to lie down to keep the swelling under control -- well, we'll just say that although I'm sure everyone would love to lay around with their feet up all day - try laying on your side with your feet propped up and someone poking you in the ribs and not being able to breathe...all at the same time! This is why I am counting every second, minute, hour and day that passes by and gets me closer to my due date! Now it's time for you all to send your collective thoughts to Baby Bealer and tell him/her that it's time to get a move-on!

Jeff and I were going to celebrate the 37 week mark by having a final date night before the birth and installing the car seat over the weekend. However, we had a change of plans. My Papa has been sick lately -- we thought he just had a bladder or urinary tract infection that seemed to clear up with a week's worth of antibiotics. But it didn't. He went in on Friday for a cystoscopy to clear out some blood clots (he had been passing blood and clots in his urine). We thought it was going to be a simple procedure and that he'd be home that evening and feeling much better. Come to find out, the clot that was causing him so much discomfort was the size of a large orange or small grapefruit and could not be removed by the cystoscope procedure and he'd have to be admitted to the hospital. The doctor was able to remove the clot on Saturday with my Papa sedated, however, behind the clot he found a very large tumor that is taking up about 1/3 of his bladder. This was very unexpected. My Papa has had prostate cancer for about 10 years now and it has gone into remission and come back at various times. The doctor is unsure if this tumor is related to the prostate cancer or if it is bladder cancer. He took a biopsy of the tumor and we will know later this week the results of the test. My Papa has heart problems also, so he is definitely not a candidate for any kind of extended surgery to either remove the tumor or (if bladder cancer) remove the entire bladder. He was discharged from the hospital this morning and is very grateful to be back home. He and my Mama are so cute because she was so worried about him being in the hospital (she stayed home in Galliano) and he was so worried about her being at home by herself. True love in every sense of the words!

Please send happy, healing and comforting thoughts his way and keep our family in your thoughts and prayers. We're just going to take things one day at a time and will see how this all plays out. Even though the tone of this blog is a bit more somber than ones past due to my the trying weekend we had with my Papa, the thought of the upcoming arrival of another great-grandchild is keeping both my Mama and Papa in very good spirits and is helping to keep the mood lifted!

Counting Down!

I'm 34 weeks today (9/25/10) -- so what does this mean??? .......

- Baby Bealer is the size of a small pumpkin (which makes me want to make a pumpkin pie!)

- I have 42 days until my due date (11/6/10) ... 6 weeks left ... hoping it will be a little sooner!

- Insomnia has reared it's ugly head

- Sleeping has become a joke

- Peeing has become a joke

- The nesting instinct is insane and makes me feel like I have OCD

- My energy level has seen better days

- My back is still wondering what the heck is going on

- I have "the waddle"

- Braxton and Hicks have become everyday words in our house and if we were having twins people would think that those were their names

Other than that I feel great!!! Jeff and I are really eager to meet the baby...but I know it has a little more baking to do in there!

Here are some pics of me at 34 weeks and of the wall stickers that I put up in the nursery (furniture ... dresser and glider ... aren't quite ready yet). I'll send another update once we find out more info from the doctor and once the rest of the furniture is in place!

Front View:

Side View:

Nursery Pics - aren't the greatest...but you get the general idea!

Better Get The Hot Water Ready

Today I'm 31 weeks...which means I have a (hopefully) very short 9 weeks left to go before we meet Baby Bealer! Jeff and I have been discussing all of the things that we still need to buy before the baby comes and have been planning when we will make the trek to the Baby Store Mecca.

So Jeff wakes up this morning and tells me that he had not one, not two, but three dreams that I was in labor! And in two of them I actually had the baby! The following is one of his dreams (in his own words) that will be written in the baby book for sure!

~~~~~

Kasey and I went to the hospital to see someone in labor. All of a sudden Kasey went into labor. We got a room. The next thing I realize as I was picking my head up off the end of the bed is that Kasey is holding a big baby wrapped in a pink blanket above her head.

I said, "You already gave birth? Where was I?"

"You fell asleep." she said

"I fell asleep?!! Why didn't the doctor wake me up? How long was the labor?"

"3 hours."

"3 hours?! I slept for 3 hours during the labor?!" I said.

"No big deal, Honey." Kasey said [Kasey's editorial comment...this is why this is called a DREAM!!!]

"Well, did you have a natural birth or c-section?" I asked as I was looking over her body for scars.

"Natural" she said.

"Did it hurt?"

"Yes. I had to hold on to the handrails in pain the entire time."

"And everything is ok?"

"Yes, I'm ok." Kasey said

Now, as Kasey is holding the baby up, the baby says "Mommy."

I said, "It talks?"

Kasey said, "Yes, she talks very well."

So I said, "Who Dat?" and the baby said, "Who Dat?"

Then I said, "Who Dat Say They Gonna Beat Dem Saints?" and the baby repeats, "Who Dat?"

I am like WOW!

So I grab the baby and take her to the hallway where all of the family is sitting around in these old school lawn chairs like they were tailgating! Then I look at Bryan [this is Jeff's brother] and he says, "the baby talks?" I said, "Yes, listen."

"Who Dat Say They Gonna Beat Dem Saints?"

And once again the baby says "Who Dat?"

~~~~

When Jeff told me his dream this morning, we were both crying we were laughing so hard! Only our yat baby would come out saying Who Dat!!!!!!! We got a Saint's fan through and through!!!!

WHO DAT!!!!!