KNOCK ON THE DOOR...

Calm before the storm

I enjoyed three full days of peace and calm as the antibiotics kicked in for me, and the Zantac worked wonders on my baby’s acid reflux. We were sleeping in 4 hour stretches and found ourselves settling into a little routine. I was recovering swiftly from the surgery and was enjoying bundling my newborn up in the baby bjorn and taking the pups for walks in the brisk winter days.

Uninvited guests

It was 5:00 on a Sunday night, sometime in December 2010 as I snuggled on the couch with my beautiful baby. Our two sweet english springer spaniels were snoozing on the floor at my feet when suddenly we were startled by knocking at the front door. The dogs leapt to their feet, barking loudly at the intrusion, and on cue, my baby awoke with a start and began to wail. I struggled to get us both up off of the couch and fought the dogs to get the door open without nicking their paws. As I opened the door, the dogs darted out into the night and I faced my landlords - husband and wife who owed the home that I was renting. “Oh, Mr. and Mrs. T., what a surprise! Um…well, come in, please”. As they entered the living room, my mind raced trying to figure out why they would just appear late on a Sunday - (did my rent check bounce? No! I had paid 3 months in advance. Has a neighbor complained about the baby crying or the dogs barking???) The dogs quickly followed them and after a few moments of sniffs and jumps, they settled back onto the floor. (The dogs, not Mr. & Mrs. T). The T’s sat down on the couch, and I sat on the chair facing them, with my baby nestled against my chest. After a long pause, Mrs. T. said; “Oh, so you had your baby! Congratulations!” I was still a put off by the intrusion, so with a bit of frost replied, “Yes, I had a baby girl, she’s six weeks old”. Long pause. I said: “So can you tell me why you both are here?” Mr. T. said, “Well, we sold our other house, that we are living in, so we’re going to need to move back here.” Another pause. “You mean with us?” Mrs. T. (slight laugh) “No. So we’re going to have to ask you to move out.” Instantly the floor drops and my head is spinning. I seriously can’t comprehend this. I can’t find words, I just stare at them, mouth gaping open, looking from them to my beautiful little baby, then back at them, then my baby… You see, I just moved into their home in August, it is now December, just 4 months later. I was seven months pregnant when I signed the lease to rent Mr. & Mrs. T.’s home. At the time I explained that I was looking to settle in to a home for at least two or three years so that I can maintain some consistency for my daughter and with her schedule and daycare. They assured me that I could rent it for three years and then we can re-assess. That sounded perfect to me. I signed on the dotted line.

Another kind of nesting

I don’t need to get into the pain and struggle both physically and mentally, of moving - packing and unpacking while being seven months pregnant with my first baby, all while holding down a high pressure full time job in Boston. You get it. Surviving that was a feat in itself. I spent the last two months of my pregnancy feverishly unpacking and setting up “our” new home so that once my baby arrived, I could focus on her and not on unpacking and putting boxes away. Honestly it was an excruciatingly exhausting way to spend the last two months of pregnancy. And again, I could not have done it without the help of my friends. But fast forward to that cold December Sunday as I faced Mr. & Mrs. T and listened to them tell me that I had 30 days to vacate the home. Just as we were settling into our peaceful existence, these two people were throwing me into a spinning, swirling, cyclone and I could barely hold on long enough to tell them that I needed to process this and don’t want to say anything that I’ll regret. I asked them to consider the fact that I just moved in and just delivered a baby via c-section and have barely recovered and now they are telling me that our world is about to be thrust upside down. I asked them to remember that we signed a lease for 12 months and I know that it would be a major battle for them to uproot a single mother with a newborn especially one with a signed lease. Mr. T. said, “We will be moving back here in 30 days, so I suggest that you start looking for a new place to live”. He said that he will be starting to move his things into the yard soon. I said that I need to take some time to think this through and will call them in a few days and could they kindly leave?

Chaos Ensues

As I shut the door behind them, I felt the room spinning. I sat on the chair, not wanting to go to the couch, the spot where they sat to deliver the news that shattered the floor beneath me. With blood boiling, heart racing, and tears streaming down my face, my sweet baby girl rested peacefully, nestled against my chest, oblivious to the chaos that was to come.

(to be continued…)

GETTING BY WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS

FIRST, SURVIVE

I was in survival mode for the first few weeks after giving birth to my baby girl. During that time my only goal was to keep myself, my baby, and my two dogs alive. As a single mom with no family nearby, I was on my own and I had to figure out how to manage it all by myself. I delivered my baby via cesarean section and returned home after four days and realized I hadn’t quite thought this all through. My midsection was cut in half to deliver my child, which left daily activities such as going up and down the stairs, walking the dogs, carrying groceries, DRIVING, and simply sitting and standing, excruciating, if not impossible.

DON’T FORGET ABOUT THE DANG DOGS!

My next door neighbors, Rachel and Nancy, stopped by and explained that they didn’t know how I was going to walk the dogs with the newborn, so they went to home depot and purchased a temporary fence, and installed it in my back yard so that I could let the dogs out in the yard until I could walk them on my own. WHAT?!? It has been 9 years since that happened and I still tear up just thinking about their kindness. That they went to the time and expense to put up a fence in my yard in the four days that I was in the hospital is one of the most generous things that anyone has ever done for me. Rachel and Nancy, I will never forget your kindness.

STAIRS AND STITCHES

Okay, so the dogs are taken care of, now onto my next problem. How to get up and down the stairs, while holding my baby without ripping open the stitches holding my abdomen together? Our bedrooms were on the 2nd floor. I set up a basinet on the first floor and I slept on the couch for the first 2 nights, but the couch was terribly uncomfortable, and my baby wouldn’t go to sleep in the basinet. I had to figure out how to get up and down those stairs. I held my baby in my lap and sat on the bottom stair and shimmied my way (backwards) up the stairs, one by one. Going down was just as challenging, if not more so. I did so very, very, slowly. But I did it, just six days after major surgery. Onto the next hurdle.

I skipped trash day for a couple of weeks. I just couldn’t drag the trash bins out to the front of the house. Thank goodness it was winter, the cold kept the trash from stinking or attracting raccoons.

SOUNDS I’LL NEVER FORGET

I soon discovered that my baby wasn’t keeping anything down. What I learned later, but didn’t know then, was that she had reflux. At first I just thought it was normal for her to spit up, but this wasn’t normal spit up. This was true projectile vomiting, like shooting across the room kind of vomiting. In fact I can still hear that splatter because it happened so often. In fact, our dogs soon learned the sound of the splatter, which was followed by a bonus treat on the floor for them, so the splatter sound was soon accompanied by the scratching sound of paws racing across the room to get to the puddle of sour milk first. Because the reflux was so painful for my baby, she was in a constant state of wailing from the pain. This was not a fun time for us. Because she wasn’t keeping her milk down, I had to take her to the pediatrician every other day to determine whether she should be hospitalized and fed via tube because her weight was dangerously low. This posed the next problem. I still couldn’t drive due to the surgery, so I had to find someone to take us to the doctor. Jenn Schraut offered to drive me and my baby to the pediatrician many of those days - Jenn, I am so thankful for your generosity, I’m not sure what I would have done without you during that time.

A few weeks later when my friend Michelle Lopilato asked to come over, I fought through the anxiety of the potential disruption to the hap hazard routine that we had created at home: feed baby / baby wail / fall asleep sitting up with baby on chest / wake to feed baby / baby wail / sit sleep / wake to let dogs out to pee and feed baby / baby wail / sit sleep / wake to…oh f*ck I can’t do this anymore. Michelle came over and she witnessed the projectile vomiting and the wailing and told me that my baby has reflux and we need to get her on medicine right away, that it will stop the pain and the crying. But our pediatrician has seen my daughter dozens of times and hasn’t mentioned a thing, wouldn’t her pediatrician have picked up on this? Michelle told me that I must insist that they screen my daughter for reflux. Fast forward two days later, and sure enough, my baby had reflux. I am so thankful for Michelle’s visit that day and her persistence in getting my daughter properly diagnosed. I am so thankful that Dr. Merkrebs listened to me. While I was in with the pediatrician, Dr. Merkrebs mentioned that I looked very sick. I explained what we have been going through and mentioned the pain while breastfeeding, and she discovered that I was suffering from Mastitis. A very painful condition caused by an infection in the breast tissue, which in my case, was due to a blocked duct. Anyway, my case was so severe that my daughters pediatrician examined me and immediately called my primary care physician and said to accept her diagnosis rather than force me to prolong this further by driving to his office across town to see him to get diagnosed by him. She explained that I need to get on antibiotics NOW. HE called in the prescription for ME, SHE called in a prescription of baby Zantac for my baby, and within 24 hours, everything changed. My baby was drinking her milk without any issues, she was sleeping! I was sleeping! Life was beautiful again!

FRIENDS THAT WON’T STAY AWAY ARE THE VERY BEST OF FRIENDS

Next came my village. While I was in the hospital, my friends signed up for food deliveries at our home for the first few weeks. This was amazing to me. However what I discovered was that sleep was critical for both me and my baby girl as she struggled with the lack of sleep and issues with keeping down her milk. Laying down on her back seemed to cause her great pain, and sleeping on her tummy was not recommended due to the risk of SIDS. The only way that she could fall asleep was when she was laying up against my chest as I sat upright. Naturally it was impossible for me to fully fall asleep this way because it was not comfortable, but mainly because I was terrified that if I fell asleep, I would lose my grip and my baby would slip and fall onto the floor. So sleep was ever precious around this time. Finally, and without warning, my baby would collapse out of sheer physical exhaustion from all of the crying and lack of sleep. It was at that time that I would sneak in a quick nap. Just as we would both drift off to sleep, there would be a knock on the door, it was one of my beautiful friends coming to deliver home cooked meals and to visit with my new born baby. Which was so wonderful, but when they knocked on the door, the dogs would erupt and bark their lights out, mainly from excitement that someone new was coming to visit, and naturally, my baby would awaken and resume her screaming. I had to ask my friends not to come over because I couldn’t time when my baby was going to sleep and I couldn’t risk the dogs waking her up when company arrived, so I just needed to get through this on my own. So we were now trapped. In the house. With little food. With little sleep. And two dogs going stir crazy for exercise. About a week into our confinement, I received a text from my friend Lisa Miles that read: “I know you don’t want company, but you don’t have a choice, I’ll be there at 11:00”. I knew there was nothing that I could have done to stop her, so I braced myself for the chaos that would ensue the moment she arrived. Lisa arrived with arms full of tupperware containing the most delicious home cooked meals I’ve ever eaten, to date. I can still taste the beef stroganoff over noodles, which was out of this world delicious, and I ate for 3 days straight - breakfast, lunch and dinner. She picked up my baby girl and told me to take some time to myself, she would take care of my baby The first thing that I did was take a long, hot shower. Then I took the dogs to a field where they could run around. And I just sat down under a tree, watching my pups chase each other through the fields, and I cried. They were tears of exhaustion, tears of joy that I finally had the baby that I dreamed about for years, but mostly tears of gratitude for my friend Lisa and her stubborn determination to help a friend in need. That is when I learned the importance of accepting help when it is offered.

And then there was another knock on the door…(to be continued…)

IS IT POSSIBLE TO SUPPORT A STRONG WILLED, INDEPENDENT DAUGHTER, WHILE MAINTAINING YOUR SANITY??

I knew I was in trouble when my then 3 1/2 year old daughter declared from her car seat in the back of our mini cooper, “Mommy, you’re going the wrong way, You have to turn left.”

I couldn’t be upset with my new found back seat driver, it was too absurd. First of all, due to the fact that this was a 2 door mini cooper, her vision was not just limited, it was completely restricted by the seat in front of her. Not to mention that even in the raised car seat, she couldn’t see out of ANY of the windows, including the one directly to her right. Additionally, because I was accustomed to multi tasking with a toddler in tow, tackling grocery shopping, dry cleaning, the post office, and a quick bite for lunch before racing home for nap time, I don’t usually tell my toddler where we were going, other than to run errands. And that day was no different. I dressed her up and told her we were going out to run errands, strapped her into her car seat in the back and off we went. So imagine my surprise when, ten minutes in she announced, no INSISTED, that Mommy was going the wrong way. I was incredulous! She had no idea where we were going, and again, she couldn’t see the road, so why on EARTH did she think she knew that I was going the wrong way?!?

This wasn’t the first time that I encountered her strong willed, independent spirit, so I wasn’t completely shocked by her know-it-all proclamation, but it was new enough that I fell into the trap and tried to reason with her. “But honey, you don’t even know where we’re going, so how do you know we’re going the wrong way?”, to which she replied “I told you, you havta take a left back there”. Aha, I’ve got her! “Back where, sweetheart? You can’t even see out the windows to see “back there”. I thought this would end the conversation, but then she said: “I can always tell by the way the car slows down.” WHAT? I have a “tell” when I drive? And my toddler has figured it out? Wait, she hasn’t figured anything out, I’M NOT LOST!

I wasn’t lost, but I was indecisive in my driving. I was going to stop at Starbucks and started to go in that direction, and then decided against it because it was raining and I didn’t feel like lugging my daughter in and out of the car in the rain just to get a latte, so I slowed down, but then I really wanted a latte, so I kind of idled there for a few minutes. Was she actually picking up on my slight idle in the roadway? No, there’s no way. But back and forth it went - “Sweetheart, Mommy’s not lost”, “Yes you are”, “No, I’m really not…and besides, you don’t even know where we’re going!” This went on until we both stopped talking with each other out of frustration. Not a word to each other for hours. I’m not kidding.

Looking back now I realize how ridiculous it was. What did it matter that my 3 1/2 year old thought I was lost when I wasn’t actually lost? Why did I engage instead of simply laugh at how silly it all seemed? And even celebrate her confidence. I mean, don’t we all want our daughters to be strong and confident? Don’t we want our little girls to be leaders? Of course we do! That’s exactly what I want, but I want it when she is all grown up and out of my house. And my car. But now, while I’m just trying to get the groceries without a battle, gosh I could really use a follower.

Unfortunately, this was just one of many little traps that I fell into along the way. It has taken me some time to harness the ability to step out of the moment and to recognize the gift of my strong little girl. With practice, I have learned to laugh at these moments and not engage. I have learned that I don’t need to convince her or correct her. Sometimes it’s alright to just agree to disagree, as they say.

But for the record, I WASN’T LOST.