Saturday, July 31, 2010

What's In A Name

It's been frustrating trying to come up with a name for our baby boy. Who by the way, just might end up being referred to as "Baby Boy" if we don't agree on something soon!

Terrell was named by his "sperm donor"... long story. Basically, I was 15 and his father chose the name. If I got a do-over I would name him something else. Maybe something that wouldn't get him confused with the Sr. who has quite the record.

Olivia was the name of my Cabbage Doll and I always knew I wanted a girl named Olivia. I never knew that every other person would name their girl Olivia since 2007. But I still like it because it's classic and not trendy. Besides she has lots of nicknames to go by.

With our last pregnancy Will fell in love with the name Willow. We knew it wouldn't get the popular vote so we hid it. I didn't want to tell anyone because I didn't want the negative comments, which are so easily dished out when it comes to naming OUR baby. Sadly, Willow went to heaven but she took her name with her; Willow Rose Wardlow.

Had we been pregnant with a girl this time, I feel that we would have pinpointed a name by now. For some reason, it's harder to pick a name for a boy. Now that we got passed the "Willie Jr" discussion (thank God) we have to choose something quickly.

My List:
Maximilian... Has been my top pick forever. I do understand it's a BIG name for a baby. But I'm okay with Max. BTW, Damn you JLo for stealing my baby name!

Gabriel... Archangel Gabriel. What's not to love? Except that it's high on the Top 100 list. Something I want to avoid since the Olivia situation.

Xavier... Another name I've loved for a long time. Until I did some research and I found out that the correct pronunciation (even in the US) is "Zayvier". The X is not pronounced.

Tomás... The reason why I like this name so much is because it is a Spanish and Irish name AND if the accent is over the "o" it is Scottish/ Gaelic. Wardlow is a Scottish last name and I am Hispanic. The downfall is, I think people will just refer to him as Thomas or worse, Tommy!

Jadon... But is it too popular? Too similar to Aidan? This spelling is from the bible.

His List:

Sean... Will seems to love it. I just don't get it.

Ian... I am pretty sure Will got this name from the books about a cartoon pig named Olivia. Her baby brother is named Ian. I definitely am not a fan.

William... Im ok with William. What I don't like is it's too popular (#8 on the Top 100 List) and I fear his family will just call him Lil' Willie.

Max... I prefer my pick, Maximilian, but I'm okay with the nickname Max.

Maxwell... Another Scottish name. Im actually liking this name more, although it's not a top pick of mine.

Darryl... Oh hell no!

I'm sure this debate is going to last until the last minute. Either Will is going to have to give in or he will have to sign all the paperwork while I'm drugged up before we come to a decision. I feel like there may be another, perfect name that's out there. One that we haven't discovered yet. In the meanwhile, I'm still taking suggestions. Just be nice!

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Friend or Foe

Over the past couple of years I had a few childhood friends locate me. Sure, I had some friend requests from middle school, even elementary school friends on But I've also had a friend find me through search websites. Recently, I had a friend drop by my Mother's house hoping to find me. It makes me feel warm and cozy inside that someone thought of me enough to track me down. I guess I was a good friend after all.

These friends from the past made me reflect on all the friends I've had over the years. But I've reflected on the "Best friends" I accumulated along the way. I had middle school best friends, high school best friends, best friends among dozens of sorority sisters and adult best friends. Currently, I think my only best friend is my husband, Will. I guess that's not a bad thing. He's seen me at my worst and he still loves me. Nobody knows me better than the man that wakes up next to me everyday.

Having Will as my BFF is not horrible, but I miss that female companionship. A comrade to shop and gossip with. Someone who is there to listen when I want to bitch about my other BFF (Will). I once had a friend like this. I held her hair when she puked. I gave her advice when she was arguing with her boyfriend. Hell! I even introduced her to her boyfriend. Things went sour for whatever reason. I'm not sure why.

Breaking up with a BFF is like breaking up with a boyfriend. I hear about their life through mutual friends like I catch up on my gossip through TMZ. People notice that we aren't tied at the hip anymore. Awkward questions are dodged as I try to pretend it's no big deal or the breakup was mutual.

It's harder to swallow when there wasn't a blatant wrong doing. Nothing to pinpoint when and where things went wrong. No argument or blow-out. That makes things more complicated.

I've made several attempts to mend the broken relationship with no success. So I made the decision to move on. But every once in awhile I yearn for my BFF. And what's worse than name calling, back-stabbing and gossiping is saying nothing at all. Especially when you've heard through the grapevine that your ex-BFF is suffering.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Pain Pain Go Away

I've come to realize the pain I'm feeling is a little more serious than I cared to admit. It's time I stopped denying it and did something about it, although it may be too late.

Early in my pregnancy I realized I didn't have the right to complain about pregnancy symptoms. A baby loss mother expressed her opinion that those who are able to conceive don't have anything to complain about. As if I should be happy enough that I was able to produce another pregnancy (regardless of the outcome of my previous pregnancy or the struggles I went through to get pregnant in the first place.) Nothing else should matter.

This statement has been embedded in my brain. When people asked in passing how I was doing I would simply smile and say fine. I was pregnant again! Without help from fertility meds, without timing intercourse down to the day... hour... minute. I was pregnant even though my last baby had died inside of me. That was enough for rejoice right? No need to mention the nausea, the headaches, the back pain, the constant nagging fear that my baby could be taken again. Without so much as a warning; a cramp or a bleed. No need to mention the lack of sleep because nightmares of demons sweeping my baby away. The inability to wipe without inspecting the tissue for blood. Who cared about all of that. I was pregnant and I should shut up and be thankful for what God has given me (even if it is only temporary.)

Recently I realized I shouldn't have to suffer. I shouldn't feel bad that I was able to conceive (and so quickly, without trying) after Willow died. I shouldn't carry the burden of guilt for all those women who suffered a loss, or were never able to conceive in the first place.

Guess what? My back hurts. The pain is tremendous. Radiating down my right buttock into my leg. I walk with a limp. Kind of like a waddling duck with a limp. 2 months of chiropractic care couldn't help. Dr.s shrugged their shoulders and spoke highly of post-pregnancy care or surgery. I recently visited a highly recommended physical therapist. She was clearly upset when she explained that she could not help me. Possibly a re-injured herniated disc caused by pressure or movement from my pelvis. My only option is "pain management". They seem to think Vicodin is safe during pregnancy. And a "Wheelchair is not such a bad idea" or "Bed rest." This scares me. So I take Tylenol, attempt to do my therapeutic exercises and try to smile and keep my mouth shut. No need to complain that it takes me minutes to roll out of bed, just to use the bathroom. Nobody wants to hear about my husband helping me put my pants on or that I can't take my daughter to the park or walk my dog. I will just suffer in silence and pray to God that the moment I deliver my healthy, baby boy this pain leaves me along with the placenta.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Pee in a Cup

Today I had another Dr. appointment. It seems I'm spending every Friday afternoon with someone in the medical field. What's more fun is I'm always dragging Olivia along since she attends daycare at my job and the Dr is close to my house (halfway across town). Olivia is astonished that I have to pee in a cup at every visit. In her loud toddler voice she questions my intentions... "Mommy, are you going to pee in that cup again?"... "What are you going to do with the cup?"... "Are you going to wash your hands?"... Now mind you, this conversation occurs in the waiting room. I hear snickers behind me as I try to shush Olivia.

By the time I get to the bathroom to leave my sample I have to pee so bad I feel like I may not make it. But not only do I have to encourage Olivia to hurry it up (because she always has to go potty right before me!), I have to write my name on the plastic cup AND peel away the wrapper from the tiniest wet nap in the universe. So I can provide a "clean" sample. It all seems like a very cruel joke.

Recently Olivia had to visit her pediatrician for a possible UTI. Thank goodness everything turned out okay (just some summer chaffing.) You can imagine her surprise when she had to provide the urine sample this time. This simple task made her day. My day, however, began like this...

Olivia woke up and immediately wanted to pick out her outfit for the day. She chose a beautiful blue... princess dress! Complete with plastic, princess high heels. Never mind that it was 90 degrees outside and she may have to return to daycare depending on the outcome of her visit that day. After much debate (damn, she's good) I convinced Olivia to wear a different dress that was pink and cotton. Who cared if it had 5 layers of ruffles and took 15 minutes to iron! Since it was pink, Olivia had to find her pink high heels that took a half hour to locate. At this point I didn't care if she wanted to wear her Hello Kitty rain boots. We had an appointment to make, and I was losing this battle quickly. After several attempts of getting her braids "just right" (Olivia's request, of course) we were finally out the door.

Olivia got many compliments on her high heels. I just smiled and grit my teeth. Come on people! Please don't encourage this behavior! I tried to help Olivia hold the plastic cup to catch the sample, but Ms. Independent HAD to do it by herself. When she clearly wasn't catching anything I had to reach in and help. Then we washed our hands for several minutes. I stopped only to swat her hand away from her prize urine sample as she tried to admire it.

Even though she kept asking to use the bathroom, the Dr. gave her a clean bill of health. Later I realized, she just wanted the chance to pee in a cup again. At least she didn't get all dressed up for nothing. Ugh!

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Only A Mother Could Love a Face Like That

Newborn babies aren't cute. We've all been in that situation when a coworker comes back to work to show off her newborn baby, just weeks after delivery. She parades them around from cubicle to cubicle and everyone (especially non-mothers) are forced to oooh and awww over the wrinkled little being.

As a mother I thought my babies were the most beautiful babies when they were born. But as I look back to their hospital photo shoots, I'm glad my babies outgrew the little old man/ woman stage. It's like Benjamin Button. But I still think my kids are adorable and once I give birth to this baby boy I will be at work to show off my handsome little "old" man!

That being said, last Friday I had my first glimpse of my little guy in 3D! I was expecting a normal ultrasound that day with the Maternal Fetal Dr. So you can imagine my surprise when the tech pushed a button and suddenly we were looking inside my womb at a moving and yawning baby. It was pretty cool... for about 10 seconds, then panic set in. Our baby looked like a demon child!

I think the tech sensed our shock because she agreed that babies are cuter in 2D at this stage because their lack of fat (you're telling me!) When we were scheduling our next appointment the tech stopped by to be sure we took our 3D pics home. Will and I were just hoping to leave that memory behind. You know... what happens in the ultrasound room, stays in the ultrasound room!

I'll be the first one to admit, this baby looks scary (in 3D), but I guess I'll sleep in peace knowing his 2D picture of his profile is freaking adorable. I'll forgo 3D images for now and wait for the real thing. But in the meantime, here's a photo of our worst nightmare!

Monday, July 5, 2010

Say A Little Prayer

I have a friend who is suffering from cancer. Since his initial surgery to remove the tumor, new tumors have emerged as well as cancer cells within his lungs. After celebrating the birthdays of his 3 beautiful children; Gio, Niko and Lila this weekend, he had to return to the hospital. The tumor that was against his spine was preventing him from walking. Although the Drs were able to remove some of this tumor, they tell him his new situation is inoperable and giving him radiation and chemotherapy may be his only options.

My heart aches for Pepe, Gina and their entire family. I can only imagine what they are going through. They recently purchased a house prior to Pepe being let go from his employer.

Will and I went to see Pepe in the hospital today. He had just gotten out of surgery and although he never opened his eyes, he recognized Will's voice immediately. We held his hand and just talked. I know that Pepe is definitely loved and has a great support system (I can tell from the gang of people waiting to see him at the hospital).

The entire situation made Will and I think about how to support someone who is going through something like this. What are the right words to say after someone is told they have 6-12 months to live? Will and I determined that we are not experienced in this situation and we may NOT say the right things, but it's better than saying nothing at all. Gina and Pepe have always been good friends to us and we plan to be good friends to them. A prayer is said everyday (sometimes more than once). I have no choice but to believe in miracles!