3 instead of 2

As I sit at Bubba's gymnastics a small girl approaches. She points to Peach, lying in my arms, and exclaims "baby!". Out of nowhere a woman in her mid-thirties appears and says, "Yes...baby!", and I immediately place the girl with the woman as she continues, "So... do you have three?" "Yes..." I reply. "How is it? With 3 I mean? Is it any different than 2? We have thought about having another, and I just don't think it would be any more hectic with 3 than with the 2 I have," this perfect stranger confides. I chuckle to myself and say, "The chaos was already there, but now it is chaos for 3 instead of 2."

My day began at 3:48 am as Peach begins to stir. I fumble for a pacifier but it doesn't satisfy her, so I sit up and reach for a bottle. After a rough night, I can barely hold my eyes open as I feed her. After eating, she is restless just as she has been all night. Tossing and turning, fussing and kicking. At about 5 am, she settles down and I begin to doze off when I hear the bells jingle. No... it isn't Santa Claus but it is Bubba. I waken Evander to head off Bubba before he can pounce on the still-sleeping Baby, safely tucked away in her bed, but he is too late.

I, then, hear the growing whine of a newly woken Baby, which instantly turns into a high-pitched scream, "MMMMMOOOOOOOMMMMMYYYYY!" Before I know it, she is standing at my side, explaining that Bubba woke her up and asking for me to put her back to bed. "I can't, Baby, because I'm holding Peach and she JUST went to sleep. Daddy will put you back!" "NNOOOO! I WANT YOU TO!" Evander comes in and scoops her up to put her in bed as she screams all the way back down the hallway.

I force myself to emerge from the toasty warm bed to begin getting ready for the day. In between yelling at Bubba to leave Peach alone, Evander and I manage to take showers and get dressed. Next is time to get Bubba dressed, which is like watching a turtle cross the road. You know he will get there, but you have no idea just how long it may take. Finally, Bubba has managed to put on his shirt and underwear when Baby is back again, jumping on the bed and waking Peach up. Somehow, amidst screaming, whining, and crying we manage to get all three children dressed and fed in time to be out the door by 7:30 for our 8 am ARD meeting at Bubba's school.

In order to make Bubba think it is a normal day, Evander drops him off at school and circles back into the parking lot to meet Baby, Peach and I. While waiting to be called back for our meeting, I schedule an appointment with the pediatrician for Peach. I had a feeling our bad night was due to an ear infection. Just as I hang up, the diagnostician calls us into the meeting room. In the meeting Evander and I advocate for appropriate goals for our son while juggling Baby, who hasn't stopped asking questions since she awoke, and Peach, who now has a fever and green snotty nose. As the meeting ends, I tell Bubba's teacher, "I'm going to need to get him now, so if you could just bring him up that would be great." Yes... he has only been at school an hour but Peach has a Dr appointment in an hour and the possibility that I won't be home in time to get Bubba off the bus doesn't sit well with me.

After running home to change a dirty diaper and grab another bottle, we are in the pediatrician's waiting room, where Bubba has created his own obstacle course (over the coffee table, under the chair, over the arm rests, and jump over the garbage can). The pediatrician's office always reminds me of what it must be like to be a dog catcher. I am constantly running after someone and catching them, only for them to get loose and run like hell all over again.

After learning that Peach indeed has her second ear infection, we drop off her prescription at Walgreen's, speed through the McDonald's drive through (where I yell "If you want to eat lunch today, you better do it now!"), and park at gymnastics. I quickly jump out of my seat as if I was launched and clean the smeared food from their faces as they hop out of the car. We are running into gymnastics when I realize that Bubba has NO shoes on. Oh well... he doesn't need any for gymnastics anyway. I push Bubba through the door, plop down into a chair, and extract a screaming and very hungry Peach from her seat.

As I sit at Bubba's gymnastics a small girl approaches. She points to Peach, lying in my arms, and exclaims "baby!". Out of nowhere a woman in her mid-thirties appears and says, "Yes...baby!", and I immediately place the girl with the woman as she continues, "So... do you have three?" "Yes..." I reply. "How is it? With 3 I mean? Is it any different than 2? We have thought about having another, and I just don't think it would be any more hectic with 3 than with the 2 I have," this perfect stranger confides. I chuckle to myself and say, "The chaos was already there, but now it is chaos for 3 instead of 2. I wouldn't change a thing!"

Speech

Six months ago, our speech therapist told me that his minor delays were now age appropriate. Six months ago, she said that he no longer had feeding issues. Six months ago, Bubba graduated from speech and feeding therapy. Two weeks ago...we began again.
After our pediatric ENT and pediatrician suggested that Bubba receive ANOTHER speech evaluation, he qualified for speech... AGAIN. I do agree that he needs the therapy, but I don't like that we were told his speech was "age appropriate" only a few months ago. He has many articulation issues, as well as a lack of ability to answer questions that do not have a concrete answer. He also still exhibits feeding difficulty, but Evander and I had come to the conclusion that those issues were just going to be part of life.
This go-round, I requested a specific therapist who is working closely with us. She sends him out with homework and makes him work hard for his end-of-therapy sticker. My hope is that he can finally get the attention he needs.

Naked Princess

I have a confession to make. My daughter is a nudist. It began with potty training, and it has become a way of life for her. During the initial phases of potty training, I didn't mind that she was naked from the waist down or completely naked, for that matter. It was less laundry for me to do.
Now, however, I find myself constantly compromising with Baby just to keep her underwear on. With the exception of one near-naked incident at gymnastics, she does keep her clothes on in public, but as soon as we walk into the house, they are off. By the time I have unloaded groceries, my daughter is playing happily totally nude. I find her wearing only Cinderella slippers or carrying her purse. She thinks nothing of running outside to play or sitting on the ground.
How do we stop this? I have no idea! Does it really matter at 2? I don't know! What I do know is that she is a free spirit, an independent thinker. Even at 2, I know that she will not conform to what others expect of her or suggest she do. She is her own person, naked or not!

Just Another Day

Friday morning was spent updating my mom on the children's activities and routines, as well as providing directions to places of interest (school, hospital, etc). She also tagged along with Baby and I as we made our weekly grocery run. We arrived home just in time to unload all the groceries, give the dog her medicine (Belle has a cone collar around her head because of an infected injury), and check on my dad, before the bus arrived carrying Bubba.
I wanted to make sure Bubba's bus driver met my mother before she would be getting him off the bus, so we hurried out the door to meet them. Not feeling particularly great, I had just slipped on an old spaghetti-strap dress and was wearing no shoes. Baby was also still in her pjs (but she had decided to stay inside and watch Dora the Explorer). I quickly introduced Momma to the two lovely bus ladies because cars had started to line up on either side of the bus (which is very rare at 11 am). I turned around in time to see Baby swing the front door open and leap off the front step with one cone-collar wearing mini poodle and one 120 lb lab escaping behind her.
Belle runs for the street, and I (literally barefoot and 10 months pregnant) start off behind her. After running into the middle of the street behind the dog, I noticed the bus driver was holding the traffic for me (which was very kind). I somehow manage to wrangle the 10 lb poodle, even though I could barely bend over to pick her up, while my mother herds the cow, I mean lab, and children toward the door.
As I turn around to close the door, my mother laughs as she notices that one of the cars still has not moved, even though the bus was leaving. I believe he was so stunned by the chain of events that he couldn't move. Everyone made it safely in. Just another day at the Gregory house! Can it get any crazier?

Back to School

Well... it has begun again. School started on Monday, and Bubba was actually excited (and a little anxious). He has the same teacher from last year, and several of his friends from last year have joined him as well. They are in the beautiful NEW Frisco Early Childhood Center, and he couldn't be happier. What can I say? The kid loves a routine!

The only frightening moment came when his bus didn't arrive on schedule. Already anxious about the bus ride, I had called the transportation department, checked in the office, and emailed his teacher earlier in the day... all to make sure he was to ride the bus and get off at our house. I was told that he should arrive at my doorstep at 11:15, but that didn't happen. At 11:30 I began to worry. Did he get on the wrong bus? Did they drop him at the wrong place?

So... I called transportation again. This time, I found out that the school let out 40 minutes late! Shoo! I tried to calm my nerves as I anxiously waited by the door. Finally the bus slowed to a halt right in front of our walk, and my big boy got off.

He had a fabulous first day and continues to have a great week. The bus was scary at first, but he is now getting used to it. Now, if I can just get Baby started to school before Peach arrives!

Home

Evander and I scurried around a tiny, humid hotel room trying desperately to get ourselves ready. Is a dress to much? Are sandals appropriate? The nervous energy in the room was enough to overtake even the most laid-back of individuals, and the unairconditioned room was starting to get to me. Only days before, I had run to the mall to pick out the perfect outfits for Evander, Bubba, and I, but, as I stared down at what was before me, nothing seemed to be the right fit. There was no time for changing, though. We had to be in the lobby in just a few moments. We dressed, double checked our documents, took a deep breath, and headed for the door.

Three years ago, on August 8, 2006, Evander, Bubba and I anxiously headed for the US Embassy in Guatemala City. A woman from the adoption agency met us, along with 3 other couples, in the lobby of the Westin Hotel. There she detailed exactly what would take place: we would wait to be called to the window; we would enter a room and be asked some questions; we would wait for our names to be called again; we would receive Bubba's visa. As we entered the Embassy, I immediately noticed that it was unairconditioned. Great! I was 2 months pregnant and wasn't sure if the pregnancy, the nervousness, or the lack of air was about to make me vomit.

As we approached the window to retrieve Bubba's visa, our final step, I could feel butterflies in my stomach. As the woman looked through our paperwork, she stopped and stared at one of the pages. "Oh no!" I instantly thought. We filled something out wrong, or they forgot to put the correct stamp on it. What is it? Will we get the visa? Please, please, let us take our baby home. Then, she raised her head and said "You were born in Birmingham, Alabama?" "Yes" I stammered. "Well... I'm originally from Alabama. My whole family lives there." she exclaimed.

I wanted to say, I'm sorry but I didn't hear what you just said because a load of bricks just fell off my shoulders. Instead I listened and smiled as she continued to talk about all the places I knew in Alabama, as she mindlessly stamped our papers and prepared Bubba's visa.

First class is something that Evander and I rarely, if ever, splurge on, but this was a special occasion. We wanted everything to be just perfect (or as perfect as possible). We quickly found our seats and, as I removed Bubba from the Baby Bjorn, we prayed for a good flight. It couldn't have been any better. Other couples were walking up and down the isles bouncing their babies and pleading for them to stop crying, but the three of us sat quietly, just taking one another in.

It is hard to believe that Bubba has been home for 3 years. While a lot of our journey with Bubba has been challenging for us, I would not take it back for anything in this world. This child was a gift from God and meant to be part of our family. Evander and I (and Baby) love him with all of our hearts.

*Note: Baby would be upset if I did not make very clear that she WAS THERE when we went to pick up Bubba in Guatemala. She was just snuggled in my belly!

Baby News

For the past week or so, I have been having regular contractions. Sometimes they are ten minutes apart for a few hours, and sometimes they are 6 minutes apart for several hours. Sitting down, standing up, drinking water, or lying down do not seem to help. For this reason, my OB decided I should have an ultrasound to make sure that everything is going ok. So... I hired a babysitter and headed to the doctor yesterday.

As I lay down on the table, millions of thoughts were running through my head. I had assured Evander and my mother that everything was fine, but, secretly, I wasn't so sure. Everything about this pregnancy has been different. I know it is #2, but something has just been a little off. I jokingly asked the ultrasound tech to make sure it was a girl, because I had some painting to do if not and tried to relax as she began.

She began by measuring my cervix, which was the main reason I was there (so I thought), and it was fine. Next, as she scanned over the baby's various organs and extremities I watched in awe. It always amazes me how the ultrasound is a tiny window into your baby's world. I watched as she sat with holding her head in her tiny hand, sticking her tongue in and out. I saw her "breathe" in and out and laughed as she put her hand in between the ultrasound and herself, blocking the view of the tech.

I immediately had two questions but I tried to wait until she was done. "Shouldn't the baby have flipped by now?" I asked. A breech baby has been my secret suspicion from the get-go but I refused to tell anyone my fear. People have a way of brushing it aside by saying "Oh it can still turn" or "My friend's baby didn't turn until she was in labor". I'd rather not hear someone's nonsense and chose instead to keep it to myself. My next question was "What is the weight estimate of the baby?"

As the nurse practitioner entered the room (my doctor was out for the day), she said "Well Donna... you've got a pretty big baby in there and a breech one at that." All of these things I knew and didn't need ultrasound to confirm, but now there was factual evidence. The baby is actually 5.7 lbs at 32.5 weeks. The practitioner went on to explain that, typically, babies grow 1/2 lb a week at this stage, and she does not believe the baby has room to turn. I am also measuring 34 1/2 weeks. Hhhmmm! I was not expecting what came next, however.

"So I will talk to Dr. Never In and see what she has to say, but I'm thinking you need to be induced or have a C-section no later than Sept. 15."

Okey, Dokey! Not exactly what I thought was coming, but it is do-able. So...now I will go back in 2 weeks to see if things are still the same (breech and gigantic). Assuming they are, I will be having this baby a few weeks early!

*For the sake of the blog, the baby will be called Peach. Having Baby and baby is a little confusing!