Danny's Surgery

Now that school's out and I'm not coming undone at the seams, I thought I'd try to get this blog restarted/caught up. I figured I'd start with Danny's surgery since that was kind of a big deal this last month.

As you probably remember, but may have forgot, Senor Reginald Snugglebottoms the Third was born with twelve fingers, the extras being additional thumbs on each hand. We met with a surgeon for a consult back in December and established that the thumbs would have to wait until he was seven months old. So April 5, we packed ourselves off to the Children's Hospital in Mesa.

Getting ready for the surgery was quite the hassle. Referrals back and forth, trying to get x-rays of his hands from the necessary angles, (if you think x-raying a seven-month-old's hands would be tricky, you are correct.), making sure the x-rays and appointments and insurance all lined up. It really takes a lot of work, nothing gets done without you doing it. You think they would send to x-rays to the requesting doctor, but nope, you've got to pick them up. I don't know how parents who have kids with chronic conditions do it, because it is a full-time job coordinating care.


His surgery was scheduled for 11:15, but we had to arrive 2 hrs early. When we made it to the surgical floor, it had bee pushed back to 11:45. Then the surgeries ahead of him ran long. By the time he made it in, it was about 2 pm. Danny was fairly cranky, having not eating since 8:30 am. The floor has a bunch of push-cars that he really liked, so Paul pushed him around the floor for probably an hour. Ugh, waiting was terrible. He was crying and I knew he was hungry and he would just look up like "we've been doing this every day for seven months, why are you not feeding me?!!" Finally around 1:30, people starting coming in. Yes, we're here for thumb surgery. Both hands. He has not eaten since 7:30 am. Breastmilk. No allergies. The same answers over and over, for the surgical nurse, surgeon, and anesthesiologist. Finally, about 2 pm, the surgical nurse whisked him up in his arms and he and the anesthesiologist carried him back into the surgical area. Danny didn't even look back or cry, he was too excited to see new people and things.

We went across the street to the Village Inn for lunch, which we both considered to be a million times less anxious and miserable than being in the waiting room. We came back after an hour, even though the surgery was expected to take two. It was good that we did because it finished early after only ninety minutes. We were taken back into the recovery room where a nurse was holding a very groggy baby, who was greedily downing Pedialyte. He had already downed an entire bottle's worth by the time we got there and would take another two ounces of Pedialyte and breastmilk before he was done. He was very mad about the whole thing--the bandages (he managed to get one off IN THE RECOVERY ROOM), being hungry, and especially being groggy. He was very well-drugged for the entire experience, but he hated being disoriented and generally out of it.

My mother came down to help, which was really nice. Danny bounced back sooooooo fast once the painkillers were stopped, so the help wasn't strictly necessary, but it was nice to have some backup and not to have to try to take him to the sitter's immediately afterwards or miss any more class. (I missed a LOT between all of the appointments, consults, and the actual surgery.)

Here's his thumbs about a week after the surgery. It'll have been eight weeks tomorrow since the surgery and he goes in for what I hope is his final visit with the surgeon. His left thumb appears to have completely healed, but the right is still healing internally.

Danny vs. the Xbox

Christmas

Thanksgiving

The Great Holiday Write-Up

Well, I totally blew by Thanksgiving, but I'll try to cram the past two months into a reasonable number of points.

1) Danny T is continues to be awesome. Sometime in mid-November, he drops to from four night feedings to two. I can now get four hours of continuous sleep and a bit of a supply built up so no more formula even when I'm gone. Yay!

2) We all fly home to Utah for Thanksgiving so Danny T can be blessed there. Flying is not nearly as scary for me now that my anxiety is better controlled. It is still not something I'd do for fun, though. We have a lovely time visiting with lots and lots of family members, which is why I decided to bless him in Utah in the first place. Special thanks and mention to all of those who traveled from Montana and Monticello for the occasion.

3) I finish the semester. I enjoyed my classes and got a 4.0. (This is less impressive in grad school, but still impressive when you give birth during the semester.)

4) Nick comes to visit the week before Christmas. He and Danny T have really taken to each other, so it was nice that he was able to come for so long. It was also nice to have a third-party to switch off baby duties with, another adult to converse with (especially when Paul was at work), and a third person to play board games with. It's hard to play some games with just two.

5) A small part of my thesis that I presented back in 2010 at the Literature and Belief Conference is accepted for publication. Also, my review of "To Die and Not Decay" is published in Early Medieval China.

6) Christmas! It's way more fun with a kid. I'm pretty sure Danny T got his weight in toys. Which is extra impressive considering he's a big guy. We never really got to dinner, but we enjoyed snacking on the parts throughout the day.

7) Danny T gets his first real cold. He is not too miserable, but he is annoyed by us constantly wiping his nose and eyes. His little coughs are very cute, and not too frequent or wet. He has a doctor's appointment tomorrow anyway.

I'll try to put up a bunch of pictures later today, since I know that's what you're all interested in.

2 Month Update

Well, it is slightly late, but technically he's not three months until next week, so it still counts. We're going to Utah for Thanksgiving and to bless him, so there should be more pictures and whatnot next week.

Anyway, here's his official two-month portrait.



And some cute shot I took.

One Month

Danny T is one month old tomorrow, so I thought I'd do a little photo timeline, cleverly posting more pictures and looking like I've been keeping track of these things.

Here's him right after he was born (seriously, like seconds).

Here's him at one day.

Here's him during the first two weeks.

Here's him at three weeks.

And here's him at one month. Look at how big he's gotten!

The Story of Danny T

As most, if not all of you know by now, Daniel Tennyson Muhlestein was born on August 27, 2011. The night before, Paul and I had had a late dinner out. I wasn't really hungry, but it was nice to get out. I awoke a little before 5:30 am to my water breaking. I don't know if you've ever experience that, but there was sooooooo much fluid. It just kept gushing and gushing. So I woke up Paul, apologized for getting the futon all wet and took a shower. I actually didn't feel any contractions until the shower. Paul tried to time them and began to get very concerned when they were less like five minutes apart (when you're supposed to go to the hospital) and more like three minutes apart. I called the hospital and they said if the water was broken, to come in within an hour. I ate a granola bar, Paul grabbed the bag, and we were off. The contractions got worse in the car and I began to worry we were never going to get to the hospital.

But we did. It took FOREVER to get registered and heaven forbid they let me go into the ward and leave Paul to fill out the endless paperwork. Then we stood there and waited for some woman in a rascal to deign to leave her station and weigh me. By now the contractions were really starting to hurt and not very far apart, but no one but me (and probably Paul) seemed to care. A nurse finally came to check and lo and behold, I was already six cm dilated. She was quite surprised. That got things moving. By 7 am, I was admitted and had my epidural. I'm pretty sure it was the fastest an anesthesiologist has ever arrived and administered one. It was not nearly as slow or unpleasant as I had prepared myself for. Around 11, the doctor arrived and decided to crank things up with pitocin since I was so close. Maybe this was a mistake, but maybe not. Certainly, I'll never know. It did its job and I started pushing around noon. He was so low, the heart monitor couldn't be attached and I had no idea how to push. Seriously, how do you know what "push with your butt" means until you find the position where they say you're doing it? The doctor was uncomfortable with how long things were taking without being able to see the heart rate, but he came out just fine. He got whisked off to be checked out and Paul went over to watch. I wasn't worried since he started crying right away. 8 lbs, 5 oz; 21.5 in long and two thumbs on each hand. We definitely weren't expecting that, but oh well. He was (and is) still very cute.

Meanwhile, I was getting stitched up. It was taking forever. The doctor had a vague air of barely contained panic, but the L and D nurse (who was AWESOME) didn't seem particularly concerned, so I figured there was nothing to worry about. After 30 minutes and an ultrasound, I started to feel pretty lousy. I threw up and began shaking violently. They told us I needed surgery to control the bleeding. Paul went up to the nursery with the baby and I went to the OR. Everything went fine and we were reunited in the recovery unit. The next two days were a mix of sleep-deprivation and discomfort. Hospitals are terrible places for sleeping and I was frequently monitored the first day between the blood loss and passing out in the bathroom. (Note: I might not have if the nurse hadn't insisted I keep my head up. Everyone knows if you're feeling light-headed, you put your head down.) At one point in the wee hours of the morning, two nurses, two nursing assistants, the OB, the resident, and the pediatrician all came within a two-hour period. Every time I would start to drift off, another person would come in. It got comical.

Several different pediatricians came in. Partially to see his thumbs (the residents seemed most interested in that, it's something they don't usually get to see) and partially to disagree over whether his urethral opening was abnormally small and fused to his foreskin as well. It is very nerve-racking to have all the doctors disagree with each other. As it turned out, his opening is just fine and an old-fashioned circumcision fixed the foreskin problem. If you can't tell, I'm still a bit annoyed about being so worried by about something that turned out to be nothing. Parents worry enough as it is, don't add to it with words like "pediatric urologist" unnecessarily!

Anyway, we're all good now. Everyone is happy and healthy and one of us (him) is very snuggily with a most-kissable head.

Ladies and Gentleman, Place Your Bets

Paul and I have taken to trying to guess when the wee one will arrive. We had high hopes for the 14th, but that was primarily for convenience/insurance reasons. So we've gone back to the drawing board. Here's our guesses so far:

Jennifer--Aug. 23

Paul--night of Aug. 20

Just as a reminder, the official due date is Aug. 29. Price is Right rules, person closest without going over is the winner. The winner gets...I don't know, the first picture or something.

Poor Paul

Poor Paul.

I threw up on him in the car. Again. This is the third or fourth time I've thrown up on him in a car. Somehow--voodoo or a terrible gypsy curse, no doubt--despite the fact that I've only thrown up ten or fifteen times this entire pregnancy, at least a third of them have been on Paul. At least this morning was only water.

Poor Paul.

Sometimes I am a Terrible Pregnant Woman

Sometimes I am a terrible pregnant woman.

I thought about this last night as I lay awake in the wee hours of the morning.

I do not read baby books.

I pay very little attention to what I eat.

I have interviewed no pediatricians.

Listening to his heartbeat at the doctor's office does nothing for me.

His nursery is not all set up--he doesn't even have a nursery.

Feeling him move is not magical, it just hurts.

We put together his crib last night and I realized I should have built the cat tree first because the cat tree parts take up more room.

That's right, I put the cats before the baby.

I am a terrible pregnant woman.

I wish to be clear.

I am very attached to the wee Danny T.

I am very glad that he is healthy and (as much as a fetus can be) happy.

I would be devastated if that were not the case.

But...

I would like a way of interacting with him that doesn't involve one of us whaling on the other

Or constant heartburn.

I want to be able to move about comfortably.

I would like not to down seven pills, supplements, and capsules a day

Because he is sucking me dry.

I am sick of waiting 30-45 minutes for an appt that takes 10 mins.

Every other week.

(Now every week! Yay!)

Did I mention it takes 20 mins just to drive there?

I am happy to have this baby, but I am SICK of being pregnant.

Have Some Pregnancy Update Stuff

Here, have some pregnancy update stuff. I'll put the pictures first, since that's what people want apparently. This is me at 34 weeks.

This shot does a good job of showing how low he is, but makes me look gigantic overall since it was take from an upward angle. Here's a straight on shot:

Now, some of you may feel that my shirt is too loose to adequately display my state of pregnancy. Such people will be taken into the woods and shot. Are you 34 weeks pregnant? No? Then you get no say and comfort wins.

Speaking of, being pregnant has gotten a lot more uncomfortable, just in the last few days. It sometimes seems impossible to cool off. Church is almost always so over air-conditioned as to be freezing, but today even that wasn't enough for me. I feel the unpleasantness of the first trimester (nausea, fatigue) has combined with the discomfort of the third trimester (big, awkward, constantly being pummeled from within, frequent trips to the bathroom). Sleeping can be rough--eight hours of sleep broken up into two-hr increments=zombie, but falling asleep can just as hard. (There is nothing good to do at 2:30 am.)

I suppose the upside is that the more uncomfortable I am, the more appealing giving birth is. Also, we've started birthing classes and an epidural looks more appealing every time. (Did you know they won't even give you one until you're 5 cm dilated? That's halfway!) Anyway, hopefully I'll be more chipper tomorrow. The juxtaposition of this post and the previous post is almost too much.

Is This What Being an Optimist Feels Like?

So it's been a rough, long month, yet I don't feel bummed. Have I suddenly morphed into an optimist? It's all so very strange. Let's review:

Unexpected car repairs and maintenance: $1000.

Time spent at AAA: 9.5 hrs.

Number of Xboxes broken: 2.

Temperature: 112 degrees and climbing.

Status of pool: dirty.

Status of apartment: unresolved.

Status of baby: Able to kick ribs with ease.

Size of self: whale.

That's a pretty depressing list, right? But this is how I feel:

Unexpected car repairs and maintenance: All new tires, brake pads and rotors, suspension work and alignment, plus a bunch of regular maintenance. The Milky White Stallion is once again in tip-top shape and should be for a while to come. $1000 seems like an okay price for all that.

Time spent at AAA: Spent it reading for comp exams. Forced me through some really boring sections of important books.

Number of Xboxes broken: Was able to snag a (more) reliable 2nd gen console for a discounted price. It lasted less than five days, but was able to exchange it without hassle. Netflix streaming flows again!

Temperature: Okay, it's ridiculously hot. But we have AC and ceiling fans. And our power didn't go out, like much of Mesa this afternoon.

Pool: No longer green and swimmable again. Plus, with the heat, it's comfortable to swim at 7:00 pm.

Status of apartment: Back at the beginning of May, we received a notice that our apartment complex had been foreclosed on and was being auctioned off. After six weeks in limbo, we learned Monday that it didn't sell and the bank signed an agreement to continue management. So everything stays the same until our lease runs out in September.

Status of baby: Holy crap, I have never been so pummeled. They say he'll calm down when he's out of room, but he's running out of time. He's favoring the rib shots these days and sometimes, it's like his foot gets caught on them and that really hurts. The upside is I literally never have to worry or count movements because he is always moving.

Size of self: Yes, I feel like big and heavy and like a whale. But according to the doctor's, I am actually quite small and lightweight for a 32+ week pregnant woman. Paul is convinced that all gain is baby-related, which is a very charitable position to have. At any rate, when you feel gigantic, it's good to know that it is merely how you feel and not how you actually are.

Miscellaneous Update

Here is the picture of Paul and me from my graduation that I promised.

I'll be trying to fill in some stuff that happened in the past few months, but I make no promises. I am forgetful and life can be pretty mundane.

Graduation Day!

So, it's been a while. Sorry about that. Defending and revising my thesis, finishing my last course, and filling out a million pieces of paper in order to graduate kept me pretty busy. Anyway, on May 13, I officially received my master's degree in Asian Languages and Civilizations (Chinese). The ceremony was at 8 am and boring as usual. It did end on time and the talks were mercifully short, which was good because there was another ceremony at noon and there were so many graduates just reading the names took an hour-and-a-half. Sadly, they did not go in alphabetical order and I wound up being at the very, very end. Here are some pictures from my graduation. It was really warm and the gown is a terribly unbreathable, heavy polyester. I thought I was going to die.

Here's a nice picture of my grandparents, my mom, and I. I was really excited they could come down for the event, even if it was only for a few days. It's a really long drive from Kalispell to Tempe!

My mom also took some pictures, including a few nice ones of Paul and I, so hopefully there will be a nice, updated picture of the two of us that I can post soon.

Baby Boy Buss-Muhle

Yeah, that's how it would show up on school rolls. Think of how it will be pronounced. "Bus mule." No potential for mocking there.

We went in for the anatomy scan yesterday. It took FOREVER (~1 hr, or twice as long as scheduled) because someone refused to stop moving. There was waving and kickboxing of my innards and tap dancing on my bladder, even a couple of flips. I wonder if this level of athleticism will continue outside and if so, where it came from. It went so long the doctor later told me she and the nurses were prepared to deal with bad news. Just to be clear: there was none. Everything is A-OK. I still haven't gained any weight, but I've stopped losing and it still early to worry about that, especially since the scan showed the baby was right on target size-wise. It was literally average in every way.

Here are the best pictures:

This was the tech's favorite. "Look at those lips!" she kept saying.

Here's the money shot. No mistake there, that's definitely a boy.

Two more face pictures.

I also received my funding offer, which is good and generous and will allow us to have two incomes after the baby comes. I haven't figured out how my courses are going to shake out, but I hopefully I can only take one class twice a week.

My thesis is finished, revised, expanded, formatted, and approved for defense. Now if I can just pass my thesis defense on the 11th, all will be well.

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

So despite what my acceptance letters said back in JANUARY, it's mid-March and I still haven't heard anything about funding. To be fair, from what I understand, there's no announcement of funding because no one's received a budget yet. And the just-passed Senate budget bill cut ~$500 million from the whole public education system. While I would take student loans if that's what it took, I would like to know if I need to. It would nice if I still had a job, though. :(

I finished my thesis and now I'm waiting for my advisor to return it to me. At first I was really relieved to be done with it--even just temporarily--but now I'm starting to get nervous. What if it needs massive revisions? The final, final, final draft has to be submitted by the 28th. That's getting really close.

Ugh, the waiting really is the hardest part.

Quick Update

I have to make this brief because I'm in the middle of a thesis writing-a-thon (due by the 10th!). Thanks for all of the congratulations, you all make me feel better. I'm due in August, presumably with a human. (Haven't done the 18 wk sonogram yet, so ask in a month.) Paul leans girl, I lean boy, so I figure one of us will get what they want either way. I have no idea how I'm going to get through everything, so I mainly focus on the immediate future. This week, thesis; next week, catch up on classwork and get blood drawn. People assure me this is a good strategy. I'm mostly feeling better except for the random vomiting and terrible thirst. Still, I imagine I've gotten off pretty easy so far. Fingers crossed that it continues!

Pregnancy, What is It Good For?

Pregnancy, what is it good for, I ask? You're bone-tired (yet can't sleep for more than two or three hours at a stretch), nauseous and/or puking day after day for weeks, crazy-thirsty, and even if you haven't gained much (or any) weight, nothing fits right because you've magically changed shape somehow.

This kid better be awesome.

Mercy, Justice, and the American Way

I live in Arizona. This should not be news to any of you. Arizona has grown increasingly conservative during my three years here. It's more of a libertarian kind of conservatism, than say "no liquor sales on Sunday" kind of conservatism. One of the hottest issues (as far as number of bills presented in the legislature) is illegal immigration. This is the result of geography, economics, and the Senate President Russell Pearce (R-Mesa) having made combating illegal immigration the sole issue of his entire legislative career. His latest proposal requires hospitals to check patients' immigration status and notify federal authorities if legal status cannot be proven. Hospitals could deny admittance based on status except in emergency situations. (In emergency situations, hospitals would check status after treatment.) The hospitals are opposed to the bill, citing concerns over public health and demands on already-strained staff. Basically, nurses have better things to do with their time than check passports and everyone loses if a person with TB doesn't seek treatment or children don't receive immunizations.

Throughout all the illegal immigration bills is the cry of justice. These people knowingly break the law, a law created for very good reasons. Countries have a right to secure borders, to know who is coming and going and what is being imported and exported. I'm not stupid, I know there are some very bad people regularly crossing the border and there are some very bad things coming (drugs) and going (guns). Private property is being trespassed on. There are many who immigrate legally, despite hardship. Surely, it is just and fair to punish those who knowingly break the law.

But should justice not be tempered with mercy? Judges take mitigating factors into account at sentencing. The whole theme of Les Miserables is that the blind pursuit of justice at all costs ultimately destroys the pursuer. The 1999 Nobel Peace Prize went to Doctors Without Borders, an international organization guided by the belief that all people deserve health care, regardless of race, religion, or political affiliation. Could it not be that in the particular case of hospitals, that it is not in the interest of society to pursue justice? That--perhaps--the moral high ground, the American way, if you will, is to let doctors do their jobs and to let ICE do theirs.

Unfortunately, I fear that Sen. Pearce and like-minded politicians are utterly blind to anything but the pursuit of justice. In their world of absolutes, they would burn down the city to catch a petty thief. Whether you destroy a society in the name of upholding its values or tearing them down, the result is still the same: a pile of rubble and ashes.

All right, I'll get off my soapbox now.