Thanks to my amazing powers of recollection, the technology of Facebook and text messaging , I have created a tiny record of my labor with Noah.  Without further adieu, February 18, 2011 went something like this:

8:00am – I wake up and think, is today the day?  Because I really don’t want to go to work.  If I’m going to have the baby today I’d kind of like to know so I don’t waste my last day working.  Well, I guess I feel okay so here we go, Day.  Bring it.

11:00am – I get to work, it’s super busy.  Everyone exclaims, “You’re here!  I can’t believe you’re still pregnant!” I’m assigned to triage (boo, hiss, hiss) but this might be a good thing. Maybe sitting down in triage will ease my (now) aching lower back.  I joke with the other nurses that I just need to make it to 7pm and finish my shift because I don’t want to waste any PTO before my maternity leave starts.  (Ha ha HA).

12:00pm – I start to notice my belly becoming hard every now and then.  Although I always have contractions at work, it’s a physically demanding and stressful job.  I’m used to it.  I have another nurse feel my stomach a few times.  She swears I’m in labor.  I am a stubborn nurse AT WORK IN A HOSPITAL and  continue to deny it.  Hey, I’ve got a job to do!  And stuff to do this weekend!

1:55pm – I finally start jotting down start times here and there in between patients to monitor if my contractions are regular.  My lower back still hurts.  This is a new symptom that started this morning.

2:30pm – Shift change is coming up, and it’s almost time for my 30 minute lunch break.  I agree to come back to triage after my break instead of changing assignments.  My back still hurts and I tell the charge nurse, half jokingly, “I think I might be in labor but I don’t know.  I should probably stay sitting down to see if these contractions go away.” A few of us feel around on my stomach again.  “Girl you’re in labor!” they say.  “No, I don’t think so,” I say.  (Ha ha ha HA).

3:05pm – Lunch time.  I make my way to the nurses station but don’t go to lunch.
“I’m afraid to go to lunch,” I say half smiling, half terrified, “I really think I might be in labor.”
“How far apart are they?!” they ask excitedly.
“About every 5 minutes.”
“For how long?!”
“I don’t know!  I don’t have time to pay attention to that, I’ve been triaging!  Probably at least two hours now.  And my doctor said if they were at least 5 minutes for more than two hours I should go to the hospital.”
“Oh my gosh!” they say, “You’re totally in labor.  You need to leave!”
“Yeah, I don’t know.  What if this isn’t it?”
(Ha ha ha HAAAAAA)

3:10pm – I walk around my hospital, notice a little more discomfort with the contractions, call Kevin and ask if I should go to the hospital.  “Um, I can’t really tell you since YOU’RE THE ONE WHO IS PREGNANT.”  Oh, right.  I go back to the unit and sit behind the nurses station.  My boss is down here now.  “You know if you leave now you’ll probably get stuck in traffic and have that baby in the car” he jokes, “so you might as well stick out your shift.”   “Yeah!” the nurses cry, “We’ve got three sterile vag basins and an empty trauma room.  We can deliver that baby right here!”

3:11pm – I DON’T THINK SO.

3:25pm – I tell the charge nurse that yeah, I think I need to leave.  I pack up my stuff and leave for the hospital.  They’ll probably send me home. (Ha ha ha ha HAAAAAA)

3:40pm – I start texting/FBing on my way out because I’ve got to have something to laugh about when they send me home and I left work for nothing, right?  (Also, I’m super nervous.  I was induced the first time, I have NO IDEA what real labor fees like and honestly I’m not hurting at all.)  I’m going to feel like a total tool in about one hour is all I keep thinking.

3:49pm – FB: “I’m leaving work and heading to another hosptial for… Baby?  Maybe?”

4:55pm – FB: “Being admitted. 4-5 cm, 90% effaced.  Really need to go to the BR.  Gross.  Dammit.  And my doc is OOT so delivering with Dr C, supposed hottie according to my sources.  Greeeeeat.”

6:00pm – Kevin and Avelyn finally arrive.  I have a sweet 20 minutes with my beautiful girl, my first born baby before she’s off to dinner and spend the night with the grandparents.  I really want her to stay.  I want her to be here for the birth.  I miss her so much when she’s gone.

6:30pm – 5cm.  Dr C breaks my water.  A big gush of really hot water with every contraction or when baby moves.  This is weird.

7:30pm – Contractions are finally starting to hurt.  Ow.  Now I remember what this is like.  Why did I think it would be cool to do this without drugs?  What is wrong with me?!  There is nothing cool about being in pain and I want to enjoy this birth because I’M DOING ALL THE WORK DAMMIT!

8:01pm – Txt: “Just got epidural. Broke bag at 1830.”  Blessed epidural, how I love thee.  Look how happy I am!  A baby is about to rip through my vagina again, yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

8:42pm – FB: “I can’t feel my legs!  I can’t feel my legs!  Oh wait, there they are, buried beneath the wonderful effects of DRUGS.  7cm.  Going to take a nap now.”  (Of course the nap didn’t happen.  I’m on my phone a lot.  Who can sleep when you’re about to give birth!)

10:09pm – Txt: “9cm, +1 station.  Almost go time!”

10:36pm – Nurse says I’m complete and it’s time!  Had two practice pushes with my nurse and watched in the mirror as his head came all the way down.  Was instructed to stop pushing so we could have an actual doctor present to deliver my unborn child.  I’ve got drugs on board and I can’t feel or move the lower half of my body so you know, take your time.  It’s cool.

10:45ish – Everyone in place, doc asks which one of us (Kevin or myself) wants to deliver the baby.  Holy crap this is totally happening right now.

10:50pm – A few (maybe 4 or 5?) pushes and Dr C tells me to reach down, grab my baby and lay him on my chest.

10:53pm – I do.  Noah James is here.  And I’m in love.

See the whole set on flickr.

(Completely unrelated to the above paragraph but seriously?  Still funny.)

Tonight we bought a couple of picture frames for Kevin’s office, so he could have something beautiful (that means me Avelyn) to look at while sitting in his prison gray, windowless office.   It got me thinking that in theory I finally have the time to go through the last (almost) eighteen months of photos sitting on my hard drive and print out tons of pictures to frame and store in albums.  I swear, the digital camera has to be one of the best inventions in my lifetime thus far, but taking the time to weed through all the crap photos to get to the good ones is incredibly time consuming.

While I haven’t officially started the weeding out process, I did take a moment to notice something about my picture taking activity.  Namely, it’s waned.

I remember a time when I couldn’t go a day without snapping off 75 photos.  It seemed like the thing to do lest I forget what that one tiny, oh my god it is growing, her hair is actually GROWING AS WE SPEAK, hair on her head looked like RIGHT THEN, RIGHT NOW!

I couldn’t imagine a world where parents didn’t take 75 photographs a day of their child.  They must be terrible parents! I’m sure I was thinking.  They must not love their child half as much as I love mine!  Look at the pictures!  The sheer number of pictures!! Digital!  Picture!!  OVERLOAD!!!!

“Hello, my name is Jennifer and I’m a photo-aholic.”

Keep in mind the above numbers are the leftover numbers.  The pictures that made the first round cut.  The ones that weren’t completely blurry, cut off, too dark, too light, too something to keep around for a second review.  I’ve deleted hundreds of pictures and still have hundreds to go.  That’s the downside to the digital camera; at some point you have to go back through and only keep the ones you really need.  It’s an exhausting endeavor.  But one I finally have time for!

What is really cool about having all these photos is that I can look back and see Avelyn, my baby, changing right in front of my eyes.

Can it be that this is the same sweet girl that came exploding, literally, out of my body just 17 months ago?  Seventeen months ago I would never have imagined how beautiful, funny and smart that 6 pound baby would be.  If you had told me I could love her more seventeen months later I would have told you to shut up, that it would not be possible for me to love her anymore than I already did.  But I do.  And my heart just aches it is so full of love.

I can look at that graph above and remember exactly why there are more or less photos every month.  Maybe we went to Chicago, or it was Christmastime, I moved Avelyn to San Antonio to live with Kevin (who, ahem, sucks at taking regular pictures), Avelyn turned ONE, I moved back to SA, Chicago again, and now I am so unbelievably busy I can’t seem to find the camera let alone snap some photos.  It’s September 21st and I’ve got 40 in the bank.  Way to go Bad Mom.

Coincidentally it would have been my Dad’s 54th birthday today.  That means he’s been gone for 15 years now.  I think if he were still around I might have gone through some photos earlier and sent him a huge bundle.  He would of liked that I think.

I see little bits of myself in Avelyn’s face sometimes, and I see a little of my Dad when the light hits her just right.  So far my mom says she at least has his giant boat feet.  Did I tell you we bought her some new shoes last week?  Did I tell you they are size 7?  SEVEN.  As in my seventeen month old wears size SEVEN shoes.  If you don’t believe how big her feet are I will prove it with the picture below.

What can I say?  Like mother, like daughter.

The death of that boy was devastating.  I didn’t like being there, I didn’t really want to be there and I wasn’t excited about any of it.  It was terrible.  When I said it was beautiful, I meant the preciousness of the moment and my being a part of it.  How often is it that you are able to be a part of something so intense and private?  Rarely if ever.  But I was.  I’ve been through a lot of death and dying in my life.  A lot.  I only know from my own perspective what it was like for me, on the other side.  On this side, I see it from a whole new light.  I feel the helplessness of being an “outsider” and the necessary distancing it takes to do this job.  It’s important to be present in the moment, to feel the loss, to grieve what just happened, but it’s equally important to put it aside, recognize you did what you could do and to get back out there and keep trying to help the other ones.  Because if you let it bring you down you might never get back up.  Or worse, if you don’t let it get to you at all you might turn to stone.

I’m sorry if that wasn’t clear or if I offended anyone with that post.  It wasn’t my intent.  I wish I would never ever have to go through something like that but in my line of work, it’s inevitable.  And writing about it was something I thought might help me tell you what it was like for me.

Hopefully that makes sense.  And hopefully you’ll keep reading.  I know posts like these are total downers because the comments just drop off.  From here on out I promise to keep the humor up and the depressing stuff down.  Deal?

I watched while he never took a breath.  For nine whole minutes.  It felt like a blink.  He didn’t come back.  He was never there.

A previously healthy four year old boy.

A boy.

I’ve tried to think about what I should say about it, how much I should say.  When the doctor called time of death and we all stopped working on him, stopped trying to save his life, and everything was quiet, all I could do when we walked away — was cry.  It was my first one.

My first death as a nurse.  The death of a child.  And I was there.

It was terrible.  Utterly, most heinously, unbelievably terrible.  And shockingly poignant.

It’s not the same as losing a grown person.  It’s not the same as a sick person, or a baby before it’s born.  It’s not the same as anything.

I can’t describe it to you, unless you’ve been there.  It was unlike anything I imagined it would be.  It was hideous, overwhelming, and breathtakingly still.  It was also beautiful.

Beautiful only in the sense that I was there in this moment that will carry on forever in another mother’s heart.  A moment when a beautiful life just stopped.  A moment that doesn’t make sense on any level, a moment so precious and private, and unbelievably unexpected.  And I got to be there.  I was there.  I was THERE when it was all over, and he was gone.

What an awesome moment that is.  What an amazing responsibility I have and a gift for me to be a nurse.  To be given an opportunity to heal the sick, care for the hurt and tend to the dying.

In the end all I can do is walk away with a little piece of it tucked into my brain, my heart, a piece I will never, ever forget.  I can revel in the joy of my sweet baby’s giggles, breathe in the scent of her soft blond curls and curl up at night next to the warm curve of my husband’s back.  I can drive to work every night, ready.  Prepared.  Dedicated to do my very best.  Heal who I can heal, teach who I can teach, save who I can save and every now and then be present for a few of the worst moments of someone else’s life.  My job is a privilege.  I am lucky to do what I do, and love it.

I was there.

I’m in a really weird place right now I guess.  School is over.  That’s weird.  Work has begun.  Weird.  I am now thought competent to practice nursing and people look at and talk to me in the hospital like I know all the answers and will be able to work wonders on their kid.  Uber weird.  News flash: I do not have all the answers.  Most nights, er mornings, I drive home thinking about you and your kids and how I wish I would have remembered to say just one more thing that might have been helpful to you.  In the middle of thinking about what I forgot to do for you and your kid I try to focus on the image of my perfectly healthy, roly poly, ball of wonder waiting for me to walk through the door.  I think about those things and about NOT falling asleep at the wheel and also please-for-the-love-of-God-do-I-really-have-to-go-back-to-work-tonight-say-it-ain’t-so.

Anyway.  I think the biggest reason I haven’t been posting is because – here comes the honest truth – I am totally, completely, 100% overwhelmed.  Ta da!  Not in the “I need help before I have a mental breakdown” kind of overwhelmed, just

OVER
(freaking)
whelmed

at the sheer amount of things I have to keep track of these days.  I’ll tell you what folks — Working is hard.  Being a real nurse is hard.  Being a real working-mom nurse working 12-hour night shifts and having 12-hour class days in the daytime whose husband is away for the summer is really freaking hard.  I’ve already been reamed out because I forgot to do some online evaluations for the Nurse Residency Program.  Oops.  I’ve also filled out my first Medication Error report.  (Shits and giggles!?!) Oops.  Also, truth be told — I don’t love it as much as I thought I would.  I don’t know if it’s because everything is new and I’m out of my element or if this unit just isn’t the right fit for me or because Kevin is gone and I stress every minute about who will take care of Avelyn and how some of them just will NOT do it right no matter what I say… not that I think about that A LOT or anything.  I’m just not sure.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate it.  When I’m there I work really hard, try to absorb anything and everything I can, practice new skills every night and I enjoy my job.  I just don’t love it and I thought, or at least hoped that, I would.  Naive I guess but still, is it too much to ask? 

I keep telling everyone I’m not totally surprised I feel this way because it’s the ER.  The pediatric ER.  Does anyone really wake up in the morning thinking, “Say! I’d like to go to work tonight and stick IV’s and catheters into every little kid and tiny baby that walks in tonight!”  Well I don’t, but that’s a lot of what I do when I go there.  Argh.  Also, I had an abuse case each of the last two nights I worked.  One was a definite, no doubt in anyone’s mind abuse case and the other was suspected.  Either way it takes up your whole night and the cops come and CPS and it’s just miserable.  Those are really hard.  Those make your stomach churn and your mind race and your heart sink into the floor.  Those and the cancer kids.  How I ever thought I might want to do Pediatric Oncology is beyond me.  When those kids pop up on the intake screen I scan really fast hoping they are NOT in my room.  It’s too much.  It’s too sad.  Kids shouldn’t get cancer, especially little kids, especially especially babies.  It’s not right and I hate hate hate it.

Man, I didn’t intend for this to be such a downer post so I hope you read it carefully and don’t think I’m freaking out having a midlife crisis or anything.  This is just all new, and I have to get the hang of it.  Also, like I said, IT’S REALLY FREAKING HARD.  New jobs are never easy and it doesn’t help that I have been sick with a virus for the last three weeks and everyone in my Nurse Residency group treated me like I had the plague so now I have no friends.  Whatev.  I need some working mom friends.  Why do you all live in OTHER STATES?  What’s so great about your state?  I’d say move here but I can’t wait to move away from here.  Anyway, read this with caution.  I keep wanting this blog to be the outlet I want it to be, where I can write about the actual goings on in my life with my stellar and world renowned sarcasm without a bandwagon of friends and family going ape shit crazy.  But then I write something and someone, somewhere, goes ape shit crazy and I back off again.  Gah!  It’s 10:32pm and the Hobo slept terribly in Chicago so I am going to take advantage of my night and try to be in bed by midnight so I get at least 6 hours sleep. 

Since I’m back in Texas I’ll end with ‘Night folks! Y’all come back now, ya here! because in Texas we all ride horses to work and sleep outside and end our conversations like that.  So, ‘night!

(Coming soon… much more delightful post about our Fun Fab Fabulous few days in Chicago!  Need a teaser?)

Working nights without a husband here is kicking my butt.  I am busy, or tired and thus slow moving, or sleeping, or soaking in the precious seconds I see Avelyn on working days.  I have one more night to work tonight (just 7pm-3am tonight, only 8 hours. YAY!) and then we fly out to Chicago to see this guy tomorrow night!

I am really excited, and I can’t wait to see Avelyn’s face when she sees him.  I’ll try to post when I’m there.  Wish me luck on my plane ride with a one year old who doesn’t sit still to read, doesn’t watch tv and has ear problems.  This is going to be fuuuuuuuun.

I have gotten to see a lot and DO a lot more.  We’ve had some very interesting patients, some really great patients, a precipitous delivery (the baby’s HEAD was between her legs when we pulled back the covers), lots of IV’s, foley caths, SVE’s, and lots and lots and lots of fetal monitoring.  I learned how to read strips, identify bad situations and what to do with the patient, how to assess and care for the baby after birth, how to care for the family after birth, saw a placental abruption at 31 weeks, a cerclage placement for a bulging back at 17 weeks, briefly cared for a mom after a miscarriage, and took care of many wonderful women week after week.  I loved it.  I have three more days to work this week (with the nurse who delivered Avelyn last year!) and then I am finished.  My “Student Nurse” job will be OVER.  I will never have to work in a hospital for FREE again.  The next time I put on scrubs will be as a Graduate Nurse when I start my job in June.  And I will be making money.  Lots and lots of money.  Well, lots and lots in comparison to making NOTHING for the last year and half.  Wow.

The highlight of my day, well my whole clinical actually, was getting a visit from a patient we delivered about three weeks ago, a wonderful couple who had a beautiful baby girl.  (By the way Heather – the mom is the spitting image of you, only taller and not named Heather.)  I had a particularly great time taking care of this family.  After a birth plan that didn’t go so well (NOTE TO READERS: DON’T go to the hospital with a birth plan in writing, you are only setting yourself up for great disappointment if/when it doesn’t work out) I tried so very hard to care for them in the way I wanted to be cared for at my birth.  The doctor who delivered her was kind of an ass and I just rolled with the punches to try and give the patient what she wanted. 

We only got to talk for a minute or two before we had to get back to work but I was so taken aback and appreciative that they remembered me.  I can’t tell you how amazing it is to be present for a baby’s birth, to watch as that baby enters this world and see pure JOY wash over the parents faces.  Especially with first time parents.  I tear up at every birth and have to try really hard not to cry every time.  This couple was so sweet and thanked my nurse and I repeatedly for our care.  I don’t need to hear that from patients, I treat everyone the same regardless, but it really makes me feel good and let’s me know I’m doing something right.  And I try so hard to do something right.

Anyway, they wrote my nurse and I the sweetest notes and brought us a fabulous and thoughtful thank you gift.  I think I will keep that note tucked away for a long, long time.  It was a great day.

(Mmm, chocolates.  And do you see that?  That’s right, it’s MONOGRAMMED.  And has a zipper so my stuff won’t fly around everywhere in my bag.  How cool is that?  And how did they know?  I LOVE it!)

PS – in case you were wondering, I accepted the Pediatric ER job and not because more people voted for PICU.  But because I think I will learn a lot, do a lot, see a lot and hope to make a difference in somebody’s life.

PPS – did anyone else notice how close that little avatar baby under the header is to the ONE YEAR MARK?  7 days, 15 hours and 52 minutes until you-know-who’s FIRST BIRTHDAY!!

Last but not least – - –

Congratulations to Wendellynn for winning the family 4-pack to Disney on Ice!! 

I’ll contact you with the details this weekend.  Thank you to everyone for entering!

Another great weekend with the Hobo, another job interview, another job offer and NO completed school work to show for it.  Sounds like a success wouldn’t you say?  I now have two job offers to choose from.  One in the Pediatric Emergency Room (Pedi ER), the other in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU).  Decisions, decisions.  I plan to make my decision this week, although I’m pretty sure what I want to do.  Before I decline the other position I want something in writing from the job I do want.  Jobs are scarce these days and with a bird in hand… well you get it.  What do you think I should pick?  Put in your two cents on the poll on the right side bar by this Friday at noon and we’ll see if you were right!

The above photos were taken in the last few weeks.  The diaper change in the trunk is the best idea I’ve ever had.  Except for über cold or über rainy days I’d rather change her precious rump in the trunk of my own car than on those nasty, germy, disgusting changing stations.  Take a UV light to those things some day.  EWWWWWWWWW.  And the pink sparkly shoes, well, SHE NEEDS THEM AND SO DO ALL LITTLE GIRLS!!  BECAUSE THEY’RE PINK!!!  AND SPARKLY!!!  Please don’t sell out before I can buy you, shoes!

I got in SA just in time to put Avelyn to bed Thursday night.  She was so excited to see me that she race-crawled right over in her little pink PJ’s and buried her head in my chest.  Those are the moments that break your heart, but in a good way.  Of course it was right before bed so when I tried to give her a bottle she was too excited to eat or sleep and wanted to play.  The sit-on-the-bed-and-sing-while-she-drank-a-bottle trick didn’t work so we moved to Plan B and I held her close and rocked her in my arms until she calmed down.  She is such a big baby girl now, and most nights will let you hold her close until she decides “Okay, time for bed” and reaches to go to her crib.  I appreciate this maturity on her part, don’t get me wrong, but the immature Momma part of me is sobbing OH MY GOD! MY BABY IS SOOOOO GROWN UP AND DOESN’T WANT ME!  SOOO(hiccup!)OOBBBBBBB!  But then she sleeps for at least 10 hours straight without making a peep and I sing Hallelujah to the heavens for finallyaftermonthsandmonthsandmonths granting me the gift of rest.

Friday was awesome.  I dropped Avelyn off at daycare without one tear (from her or me), had a great job interview with the PICU (can I be super proud of myself for a moment?  I mean TWO interviews and TWO job offers?), had lunch with Kevin then headed home for a well needed two hour nap.  I had a terrible cold and NEEDED. SLEEP.  Then I picked Avelyn up from daycare and tried to take her picture since Kevin has not kept up with the 1,387 picture a day precedent I set. 

I call this series “The Screaming Baby” because this baby is very into screaming these days.  Look at that girl standing, the one soooo close to walking!  Isn’t she tall?  Doesn’t she look like a little KID from behind?  Where did my baby chubber wub go?  Oh wait, phew! There it is behind her knees.  Love it.

In preparation for Avelyn’s FIRST birthday (12 more days!) I wanted to get her pictures made.  I found a few great photographers, one of which lives in Texas (hence was the obvious choice) and was really, really excited to get some great photos.  Unfortunately we move a lot and the money tree I ordered has yet to be delivered to the right address so we were out of luck.  But pictures are better than no pictures so I booked a session at the PP and had Avelyn model some potential outfits for the shoot. She looked utterly delicious and seemed to enjoy the first ensemble as evidenced by this face: But then I got a little cocky and tried to take pictures of her from a different angle.  It didn’t go so well:The second wardrobe change was even more fun.  The sheer nerve of me I tell you:

In keeping with her less than stellar performance during dress rehearsal the night before, the photo shoot on Saturday went kind of… meh.  She spent most of the time crying, screaming, making no face whatsoever and crawling off camera towards me.  We got a few good shots but nothing like her normal wide eyed grin.  I love them all though, no matter what.  Unfortunately they look like, well, portrait studio pictures.  Ugh.  I think I take way better pictures than they do.  If the subject weren’t so damn adorable I wouldn’t have bought one picture.  One day I will get the photos I want.  (Like THIS YEAR KEVIN.  When I get a job we’re doing it.)  Until then I will just drool over Matt, Sharon and Annalee’s beautiful photos.  They’re all really good looking people but their hands-down-utterly-beautiful baby girls really make the shot.  Some more cuteness to tide you over.

Hobo Baby is wearing Kate Mack by Biscotti Baby Spring Rose dress, Kate Mack Strawberry Fields Voile Bubble Romper, and Iris & Ivy some dress I don’t know the name of.  (Note to Biscotti – we love your clothes, want to send some our way?)

 

8 days to my 28th birthday!
11 days to Avelyn’s 1st birthday!
14 days to Kevin’s 32nd birthday!
31 days to Momma’s graduation!

So that’s the first piece of good news.  The second is I PASSED THE HESI!  I didn’t blow it out of the water but I scored above what I needed to score to pass and am now eligible to graduate.  Whew!  What a load off.  Of course there are still papers to write, exams to pass, clinicals to finish, asses to kiss…  Also the fact that I never ordered my graduation “regalia” (who comes up with these words!?) because a) I forgot and then b) I didn’t want to on principle.  Why should I pay that much money for something I will wear for 2 hours?  Why don’t you have a rental plan???  Sigh.  I’m thisclose to purchasing another one online and hoping it won’t stand out to much.  Although even if it does I’m toying with the idea of waltzing across the stage, grabbing my diploma and then doing the Michael Jackson crotch pull while yelling at the top of my lungs “Suck it SON!  I bought this here regalia for a third of what you paid.  Shut yo’ FACE!”  Still haven’t decided, too much maybe?

Oy.  The bad part about graduation is it’s elevated level of importance.  I don’t like the attention a graduation ceremony entails.  I am not an attention whore. I  don’t get turned on or revved up by people fawning over me or my accomplishments, droning on and on, asking question after question, giving me gifts I didn’t want or ask for… I don’t need any of that.  I need Kevin and Avelyn to be there.  That’s pretty much it although I would like for our parents and my grandparents and my brother or sister if they wanted to come.  (That’s right Stephanie, because I have been too busy to call or write but since I know you read this blog even though you NEVER COMMENT YOU BAD BLOG READER! You should know you are invited to come if you want to.)  We’re planning on early dinner, graduation and HOME since Hobo needs her beauty rest.

And that’s it, just those people mentioned above.  Nobody else.  Nobody.  I wonder if that’s too subtle.  And no I will not remove this statement because if you will recall an earlier post from a mere two weeks ago (just two weeks!?) this is my blog and I can say whatever I want on my blog.  Even though out of respect for my husband and THE REST OF MY MARRIED LIFE I usually don’t.  See, I’m not even saying it now.  Anyway, if you will recall:

“…My therapist and friendapist both said the same thing – I should quit feeling guilty about my FEELINGS.  They’re MY feelings and it’s how I FEEL so I am allowed to FEEL this way dammit.”

Well, my FEELINGS are feeling like they don’t want anyone else to ruin MY day.  So I get to set the rules.  (Please stay tuned for the post-graduation post where I will proceed to angrily relive the inevitable breaking of these rules in order to keep family peace.  Because clearly my feelings do not matter much of the time.)

A very dramatic ANYWAY… Tonight I sit here thinking how freaking scared I am to graduate from nursing school with the implication I somehow know what to do to take care of people.  I mean I just spent two years in nursing school, shouldn’t I know more about how to nurse?!  (Hmm, note to Self: Look into whether being unable to successfully nurse your first born child is related to being unable to be a good nurse.  Kidding, Self.  Get a sense of humor already.)  Out of the 160 questions on the HESI I must have stared dumbfounded at 155 of them wondering in what universe I was supposed to have been taught this.  Whaaaaaa?  H-E-A-R-T?  What is a heart?  Do I have it?  Am I coming down with ‘heart’? IS THERE A CURE?  AAAAGGGGHHHHHH!!!!  Oh wait, that heart?

I am leaving for San Antonio first thing after Community Hellth clinical tomorrow.  We are getting Avelyn’s first birthday pictures and our first family pictures on Saturday.  We’re just going to the cruddy ol’ portrait studio for now because we don’t have the money to get the kind of pictures I want but we will do it sometime this year.  Hopefully we will have good weather and can get out of the house and have a family day at the park or something.  That reminds me, I can’t wait for April 15th when our lease starts and we can start the slow move in.  Do you understand the significance of this move?  Do you?  It means a house, not an apartment that shares walls with noisy neighbors.  It means living together, just the three of us for the FIRST time in twenty one months.  It means walking around in our underwear if we want to, just because.  It means freedom, independence, the ability to raise my daughter without being questioned and lectured about every cough, sneeze, out of place hair follicle, no matter how well meaning it may be.  It means not having to watch Fox News, heck not having the TV on 56 hours a day, being able to wake up at 7:30am with my baby and spend time alone with her, just me and her.  Above all it means all the mistakes, decisions, sacrifices and prayers have been worth it and we can start being the family I want us to be.