And Then There Were Two . . . or Three

For the past few weeks, every single time I've gone to pick Alexis up from daycare a little boy with bright blond hair has come running up to me to give me a big hug, squealing "Mommy" all along the way. I'm pretty sure I don't remember giving birth to him. If I did, I couldn't tell you where that blond hair came from. But, it might explain why we don't seem to fit this email that was forwarded to me:

Your Clothes:
1st baby: You begin wearing maternity clothes as soon as your OB/GYN
confirms your pregnancy.
2nd baby: You wear your regular clothes for as long as possible.
3rd baby: Your maternity clothes ARE your regular clothes.
Burgh Baby's House: I first started wearing maternity clothes right around 6 months. But that was only after I had scoured the earth for the lowest of low rise jeans and the longest of baggy shirts that weren't maternity.

Preparing for the Birth:
1st baby: You practice your breathing religiously.
2nd baby: You don't bother because you remember that last time, breathing
didn't do a thing.
3rd baby: You ask for an epidermal in your eighth month.
Burgh Baby's House: None of the above. I knew darn well that kid was never coming out on her own. I just waited around for the idiot doctors to figure it out. And I didn't know a darn thing about breathing because I refused to go to anything resembling a Lamaze class. Why would anyone intentionally place themselves in a room with 20 cranky pregnant women?

The Layette:
1st baby: You pre-wash newborn's clothes, color-coordinate them, and fold
them neatly in the baby's little bureau.
2nd baby: You check to make sure that the clothes are clean and discard
only the ones with the darkest stains.
3rd baby: Boys can wear pink, can't they?
Burgh Baby's House: I remember an in-law mentioning something about pre-washing baby clothes. I tried not to look at her like she had two heads. Seriously, why? I don't pre-wash my own clothes, why would I pre-wash something that someone else was going to wear?

1st baby: At the first sign of distress--a whimper, a frown--you pick up
the baby.
2nd baby: You pick the baby up when her wails threaten to wake your firstborn.
3rd baby: You teach your three-year-old how to rewind the mechanical swing.
Burgh Baby's House: Change #2 to "wails threaten to wake the dog" and you've got it.

The Pacifier:
1st baby: If the pacifier falls on the floor, you put it away until you
can go home and wash and boil it.
2nd baby: When the pacifier falls on the floor, you squirt it off with some juice from the baby's bottle.
3rd baby: You wipe it off on your shirt and pop it back in.
Burgh Baby's House: Wipe it off on my shirt first. Interesting idea. I just popped it back in her mouth. After all, I wasn't the one that threw it on the floor.

1st baby: You change your baby's diapers every hour, whether they need it
or not.
2nd baby: You change their diaper every two to three hours, if needed.
3rd baby: You try to change their diaper before others start to complain
about the smell or you see it sagging to their knees.
Burgh Baby's House: Does she smell? No? Then it can wait.

1st baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics, Baby Swing, and Baby
Story Hour.
2nd baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics.
3rd baby: You take your infant to the supermarket and the dry cleaner.
Burgh Baby's House: If she's really lucky,I might drive past the playground on the way home from the grocery store. She likes to gaze longingly at the slides.

Going Out:
1st baby: The first time you leave your baby with a sitter, you call home five times.
2nd baby: Just before you walk out the door, you remember to leave a number where you can be reached.
3rd baby: You leave instructions for the sitter to call only if she sees blood.
Burgh Baby's House: Sitter? Who has money for a sitter after paying for daycare?

At Home:
1st baby: You spend a good bit of every day just gazing at the baby.
2nd baby: You spend a bit of everyday watching to be sure your older child
isn't squeezing, poking, or hitting the baby.
3rd baby: You spend a little bit of every day hiding from the children.
Burgh Baby's House: If she's asleep, number 1. If she's awake, number 3.

Swallowing Coins:
1st child: When first child swallows a coin, you rush the child to the hospital and demand x-rays.
2nd child: When second child swallows a coin, you carefully watch for the coin to pass.
3rd child: When third child swallows a coin you deduct it from his allowance!
Burgh Baby's House: She's just plain not allowed to swallow a coin. Control issues? What? Me?

(Thanks, Ashley!)


News from Minot, ND

Sometimes it's just too easy.

The worst part? I first heard about this story on a Pittsburgh news cast.


Let's Talk for a Minute

First, go here.

Now, let me give you a history lesson. My Mom died of breast cancer at the age of 45. When she was 39, she found a lump. She didn't tell anyone. For months, she lived in a solitary world of silence. I imagine there were reasons. Fear. Avoidance. Denial. No health insurance. No experience with obtaining health care. A husband that was deployed for the first Iraqi war. Two kids to care for. Months later, she finally got some help, in the form of a radical masectomy and several rounds of chemotherapy. And for a while, everything was OK. She couldn't raise her arm above her shoulder and there were lots of chuckles about her fake breast being much perkier than her remaining real one, but it seemed like she had beaten cancer.

But then it came back. And this time it was faster, stronger, more invasive. The cancer quickly spread to her lungs and then to her bones. The bones in her neck eventually were eaten away by the disease. She couldn't hold her head up. She couldn't breathe. She suffocated to death.

Through it all, she never once complained. She endured painful surgeries, horrific chemotherapy, and circumstances that no one should ever imagine, let alone face. But she remained silent. She continued on as if there was nothing unusual going on. She accepted her situation. She didn't fight. Never once did she say, "I can beat this." She waited to die.

If you don't regularily do breast exams, start. If anything--ANYTHING--seems odd, go to your doctor. Don't make excuses. Don't procrasinate. Don't wait to see if it will go away. Just go to the doctor.

WhyMommy--FIGHT. Kick its ass. I'm behind you. We're all behind you.