Yesterday I had a blog post planned where I bragged all about my perfect child and how I managed to go out to lunch, shop at Target where I tried on actual clothes, pop over to Babies R Us, ran on the treadmill, and worked outside in the yard for a while.

And then today the Rookie fussed so much I didn’t get lunch until 4:30, I spent the whole day begging him to tell me what he needed, and then got him settled just in time to watch him throw up spectacularly all over me, himself, and the couch.

Three days down. 23 to go.

https://staging.tresaedmunds.com/2008/05/205/

At 5:30 this morning I drove Bear off to the airport. And he won’t be back for a month. He’ll actually be home for Memorial Day weekend, but I’m pretty much on my own until June 6th. I’m scared stupid.

So far I’m doing good. We made the hour long drive home just fine, he took his morning bottle and we cuddled up together for a little nap, he chilled out contentedly in his swing while I rushed around washing a clean bottle (because of course we only bought four. He’s going to be breastfed! What do we need tons of bottles for? Pbbt.) and measuring all his morning medications, and now he’s sleeping again back in the superfancy swing we bought him.

So now I should have just enough time to shove some food in my face and toss in a load of laundry.

We have a gardener coming later this afternoon because in the entire year we’ve lived here, we’ve never once pruned our jungle of a backyard and it has now overgrown into an epic forest primeval. I’m thinking that he is just going to have to handle seeing me in my spitup stained pajamas. Let’s be realistic here. I’m doing well, but there’s no way I’m getting a shower today.

Just when things were going so well….

I naively hoped that finally, Finally, FINAAAAAAAALLLLLLLYYYYYYY, things were going to turn around for us. After a decade of struggles it looked like we were going to have everything we wanted. Great house, great job, great family.

I must have forgotten how my life actually works.

For the past year now, just after we bought the house – of course, Bear’s job has been in jeopardy. Not through anything he did or didn’t do. He is incredibly good at his job. His staff adores him, he breaks all kinds of financial records, he supervises over excellent care for the patients. But shortly after he was hired his company, a huge national corporation, decided to make a number of changes in their business model which included selling their Southern California buildings.

It is standard procedure when a new company comes in to fire the administrator because usually you only sell a building if it’s not making money, and if it’s not making money it’s the administrator’s fault. But our circumstance was different because they had just replaced the long time administrator with Bear, who was turning things around remarkably fast. We really thought we were in a pretty good position.

All year long we’ve been holding our breath as one company after another came through, tried to buy the building, threatened his job, and then fell through. After over a year now, one company finally stuck it out and the sale becomes official sometime next month.

This industry is very small (which is why I’m being so vague) so we had lots of friends and contacts feeding us information and rumors about the new company and their plans. Bear prepared an impressive presentation, met with the new owners, and we were sure we had it in the bag. They even had conversations where they told us that they couldn’t talk out of turn but that we should “read between the lines” about our future with the company. Without handing us a contract, they made it as plain as they could that we were staying on board.

Until Friday when they called Bear out of the blue and told him he was fired.

We turned down so many offers and other opportunities. A couple of months ago when we flew to Tuscon? We had a job offer that was fantastic and the only reason we aren’t in Arizona now is because we felt so sure this one was going to work out. The market is kind of bleak at the moment, so we don’t know what is going to happen.

Obviously, we were pretty distraught over this, so we rushed down to the hospital to spend some time with our baby and put a few things in perspective. We knew we were in trouble when we walked in and the nurse ran to get the doctor who wanted to talk to us.

The biggest risks for preemies are lungs, brain, eyes. In that order. Friday they did his first eye exam and everything looks pretty good. Even if he were to stop progressing at this point he wouldn’t be blind, he’d just need some laser surgery. So that’s good. He’s making great progress on the oxygen and now there’s only one more step down before he’s off of it for good. That leaves the brain.

In a routine scan, they discovered two little “cysts” in the middle of his brain. These are areas of the brain that had at some point been denied oxygen and consequently been damaged, resulting in Cerebral Palsy. They are located in the part of the brain that governs gross motor skills.

We won’t know the extent of the damage until he’s at least two years old. We’ll have to see how he develops to discover how the brain damage will manifest in his abilities. He might be able to resolve his issues with physical and occupational therapy, or he could have lifelong limitations. Based on the size of the injury, he most likely won’t be one of the kids you think of when you hear “Cerebral Palsy.” He probably won’t be in a wheelchair. Hopefully. But he definitely won’t have an easy road. And any hopes Bear held on to about our Rookie still being a super athlete despite his prematurity, pretty much died.

This is a man who has two loves in his life. Me, and sports. Particularly football. He has no other passions, and even few other deep interests. And now the son that he’s longed for for so long most likely will not be able to participate in them. Devastating doesn’t even begin to describe it.

We’ve had a few days to process everything and we’re doing pretty ok. We’re probably doing far better than we should be given everything we’re facing. Luckily we’re both fixers and after a couple days in bed eating our feelings (fancy European chocolates for me, crappy pseudo pastries – Ding Dongs, donuts – for him) and watching sports underdog movies (we own Rudy, Rocky, and Hoosiers and had a marathon this weekend) , we sat up and came up with a battle plan. Bear is so good at his job and he has a specialized skill, he’ll be able to find something. We might just have to revise what we’re looking for a little. He also works with PT’s and OT’s and I know I can take Atticus into the therapy room and have them show me what to do and I’ll turn myself into his personal physical therapist. There are state programs we qualify for that send therapists to our house and I am going to take advantage of them and get educated and throw myself into this.

We’re resolved to get through this and tackle these challenges, but I would be so lying if I didn’t also say that we are terrified and feel angry at God and completely betrayed. We are good people. We help others whenever we can. No one should have to go through what we’ve gone through in the past ten years.

Guess what. That stomach pain was not a growth spurt.

It turns out that I was massively pre-eclamptic, and the symptoms were just presenting in completely oddball ways.

Tuesday morning I finally called Bear in a panic. I knew something was wrong and I couldn’t deal with the pain anymore, but I needed him to be my advocate with the doctors. I’m just too likely to apologize and excuse my pain and convince myself it’s not as bad as I think it is. The nurse had us come down to the hospital with the high-risk L&D merely as a precaution. Nobody thought it was going to be anything more serious than gall-stones.

They ran me through a million labs, gave me a two hour long ultrasound looking for stones, and finally decided to admit me because of my high blood-pressure. By this point they still couldn’t explain anything. I had never had so much as a slightly elevated reading before, and they didn’t understand why pre-eclampsia would cause so much pain, but they weren’t willing to take any chances. The doctors told us that I would most likely have to stay in the hospital for three weeks to give the baby as much time in the womb as possible. They shot me up with steroids for the baby’s lungs and Bear ran home to get my toothbrush.

An hour later when he came back, we got the news that they were going to have to do an emergency C-section. Right then. Stat. They barely had time to get my blood type back before I went in, pushing everybody else out of my way. We didn’t know how bad it was at the time, but I was crashing, and fast. There was no time for hand-holding because things were going black for me very quickly. From the time they threw me down on that table to the time my baby was wheeled off to the NICU was no more than 10 minutes. They weren’t even sure if I was going to get anesthesia in time before my platelet count was so low I’d just bleed to death.

My precious birth plan kind of went out the window. I had all these romantic notions of how I wanted things to go, and that turned out to not quite be an option. But we’re both still here, and if we hadn’t gone in to the doctors for the pain right then, that wouldn’t be true. I’m just astounded at how many miracles we witnessed to get us through. Heaven was very close.

Atticus Ross Edmunds was born Tuesday night at 10:30, at 15 inches long and weighing 2 lbs 4 oz. I heard all the stories, but there was just no way to prepare for how this little guy was going to sweep me off my feet. I’ve never been so blissed out in all my life. Plus, I have vicodin.

We had a great time in Tucson, it actually reminded me a lot of Modesto. Both are pretty decent sized towns plunked down in the middle of nowhere, so you get the benefits of suburban living with all the conveniences of plenty of stores, along with the benefits of rural living. I found a bunch of great crafty stores, an amazing selection of fantastic restaurants, and a wonderful art community. Plus the real estate market is **so** much better than San Diego.

I’ve written about four dozen posts updating Bear’s job situation, only to have them change just before I published. Everything is still up in the air, but we’re starting to slowly close in on a resolution. At least enough so that we know that there are about two things that could happen instead of just being subject to any manner of whims.

Here’s the short version. Months ago, before the fires, it looked like a company was going to buy Bear’s building and put their own boss-man in place, sending us out on our ear. That company ended up not working out and the sale didn’t go through. We turned down all the other offers we had in this area and were incredibly grateful things could stay as they were. Turns out we weren’t out of the woods. Now some other corporate developments have occurred that I can’t disclose that put us back in the same spot. We’ve kind of burned our bridges in the area by turning down offers last time, so now we’re basically waiting to find out if we get to stay here or if we have to be transfered to Tuscon.

Tuscon was great, and if we end up there I’m sure we’ll find a way to be happy. But the thought of moving. AGAIN. When I haven’t even made friends here yet, when I haven’t even been able to fully unpack because of home renovations, when I haven’t even finished the home renovations…it’s kind of demoralizing. Tuscon would put us in a really great place financially, but with no family or friends around us when I have my first baby. Plus we’d have to move when I was eight months pregnant and try to find a new doctor. I’m trying very hard to understand that I have absolutely no control over this, and if God wants us in Tuscon then Tuscon it is. But I really wanted to put down roots here. Maybe we still can, it’s not definite, but I’m feeling gloomy.

We got back from Tuscon Saturday night, and Sunday night we found out our prophet Gordon B. Hinckley died. He was a very old man and we’ve all been expecting it for years. I am so attached to President Hinckley that I imagined sobbing and days of depression, but instead I’m just so very grateful I could grow up under his leadership. I’ve still had a couple weepy moments, but overall I’m just so filled with love and appreciation for him. He has done so much for our church, and so much that was good for me. I can’t really even articulate my thoughts on him, I just want to be like Anne Shirley and “feel a prayer.”

Monday morning Bear had to leave for Reno without me. I was absolutely pissed about it. He had to go to a work regional conference, leaving his 7 months pregnant wife, when if we get to stay with the company it probably won’t even be in this region anyway. He basically just had to go to try to keep the news under wraps, leaving me to fend for myself when I can barely even reach my feet to put on a pair of socks. I ended up being fine, I just got absolutely nothing done all week. Normally I work hard around the house during the day, relying on Bear to take care of me at night when I have to crash. This week I just wandered around the house, ate something, hugged a cat, wandered some more, hugged a cat, ate some more, took a nap with a cat, moved to the couch, ate something else, rinse and repeat. Other than the guilt I felt over my lack of productivity, I was fine.

Then, yesterday morning I woke up at four in the morning with incredible stomach cramps. It didn’t feel like contractions, it felt like hunger pains. I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t get comfortable in any position, and food was not making it any better. If I hadn’t been alone, I would’ve certainly been incredibly uncomfortable, but I could have dealt with it with a little help. On my own I had to deal with the pain and try to trudge upstairs anytime I needed medicine or try to make my lunch while barely being able to breath. By three in the afternoon, I had reached my limit and was starting to get panicky. I finally called the doctor – which I am absolutely loathe to do after all the head-pats and crazy talk I’ve received – and the sweet advice nurse basically told me that Rookie was just going through a growth spurt and causing me loads of muscle and skeletal pain.

People keep asking me how the pregnancy is going, and before this week I’ve had no complaints other than exhaustion and some back pain. No varicose veins, no hemorrhoids, no vomiting, nothing weird. It figures it would all hit me at once and while I was all by myself.

If you happen to be struggling with controlling your emotions, and you carry a deep and abiding hope that when you become a mom it will help your wounded heart heal as you create a safe and happy life for this new little person, I recommend not watching the movie Waitress.

If, however, you are a normal person, you should run right out and watch this movie today.

We watched it last night and, while I normally would have just gotten misty eyed, instead I found myself going on an hour long (literally) crying jag and hyperventilating until Bear finally just had to put me to bed.

Over time I’ve learned that there are certain movies that just push my button too much and I can’t be counted on to behave rationally after watching them. Any (good, touching, well-made) movie where a downtrodden woman rises up and reclaims her life with the help of those she loves are sure to get me weepy (Like The Color Purple or Forrest Gump, not a Lifetime Movie Network movie). Movies about sisters (like Sense and Sensibility or The Color Purple, again) also need to be avoided, but movies that show the redeeming power of motherhood are the biggies. Bear can always tell when I’m having a bad day because I’ll be watching the movie adaptation of the Roald Dahl book Matilda (it always seems to be playing on cable somewhere) just to torture myself and have a good cry.

Matilda is the holy grail of weepfests for me because it taps directly into what I long for the most. A smart, talented little girl, whose parents don’t understand or support her, discovers her inner strength, conquers the bad guys, and then is adopted by a woman who adores her. I used to read that book as a kid and dream of finding magic powers I could use to change what made me unhappy about my own life. Now I’m grown and I’ve done all the work to get over what I was unhappy about back then, but for years I’ve felt like the last step to getting over my sad little childhood was to create a wonderful childhood for my own kids. At the end of the movie the narrator says something like, “And as bad as things were before, that’s how good things were now.” Which is always, always, when I go into the ugly cry.

Last night as I was hysterically (hah! Literally!) crying, and poor Bear was doing all he could to stifle his laughter (which he was not very successful at) I just kept saying this one line from the movie. I don’t want to spoil it, so I can’t say which one, but it just perfectly summed up everything I’m hoping for with my own little sprout.

By the way, we go in on Tuesday to try to see what kind of a sprout this kid is going to be. Lucky for me this is happening at Christmas time, so I’m so busy going out of my mind with Christmas prep that I can’t go out of my mind waiting for the ultrasound.

Also, we’ve finally come up with a name for this kid. Not a real person name, just something to call it instead of “The Kid.” After Bookcase didn’t end up sticking around, we kind of lost the heart to get attached until we passed the danger zone, and once we passed the danger zone we couldn’t think of anything to call it, so we kept racking our brains. Bear started threatening to call it Cletus the Fetus, so we had to come up with something, quick.

I think I’ve mentioned before that our family motto is, “Go Team Edmunds!” It’s so cheesy and hilarious to us, but we mean it, too. When Bear had to go in for his state boards, “Go Team Edmunds!”. When I bust out a super productive day and finish another house project, “Go Team Edmunds!”. When a surprise bonus check comes in the mail just in time for Christmas, “Go Team Edmunds!”. Anyway, in light of that, until the kid pops out and gets its real name, we’re calling it The Rookie.