The time I tried a tiny (bird) tattoo in Thailand

It's true.  At the ripe old age of 31, I got a tattoo.  In Thailand. 

 No, I wasn't drunk.  It wasn't a spur of the moment decision, either.  

I've been wanting this specific tattoo for over 2 years now.  A tattoo of 6 small birds to represent the 6 babies we lost.

It's taken me 2 years to convince E.  He was FIRMLY against it for a very long time.  Up until our Thailand trip, actually.  One day, during the trip, we were laying on the beach and he actually asked me more detailed questions of why I wanted it.  I told him I wanted something physically apart of me to remember them by.  Something I can touch, feel, and hold close.  He suggested planting a tree, but I told him it would kill me if the tree died or we moved.  (Plus, I really wanted something specific for EACH baby.  Not something collective for them together.)  Then, he suggested a necklace, or something similar, that I would wear like a wedding ring.    But, I wear a necklace with a charm on it for my four living children almost every day (I have two different ones that represent each of them, then I just got a new necklace with their picture on it from www.jewelrykeepsakes.com.  Blog post coming on that coming up.)  

E saw my points, (I guess.  either that, or he was tired of me asking constantly) and said he could see why I wanted one.  If I really wanted it, he'd go with me, even, to get it done.

Rather than wait until we got home (and give him a chance to change his mind), I researched tattoo parlors in Bangkok.  We were spending one more evening there on our way home, after our island trip.  I found one that got wonderful reviews and headed down there on Monday after we checked into our hotel.  

The man who helped us spoke WONDERFUL English, and printed out a page with birds on it to let us chose each one we wanted.  E even helped pick out 2 of them!  After picking them out, he transferred them onto my wrist, taking lots of time placing them, replacing them, getting the arrangement just right.  It was during this placement that I got quite misty eyed, grieving for my tiny babies.  (This was/is the closest thing I'd ever have to a memorial for them.)

Its been a looooong time since my last tattoo (um, 14 years ago?!?) and I sort of forgot how it felt.  Some of them hurt worse than others.  The one under my pinky finger...that one definitely hurt he worst.  I may have been practicing some of my labor breathing techniques and asking E to distract me with pictures from our trip.  Thankfully, it only took about 20 minutes.

immediately after it was finished

Tattoo wrapped up safe and sound during a foot massage on the street.

On the plane ride home

Tuesday evening.

I'm looking forward to when its healed and I can rub my finger across all of them.

In case you are wondering "why birds"?    1. They are just cute and 2. I love the references in the bible about how God takes care of even the birds, so how much more does he love us, his children.  These two are my favorite:

Matthew 6:26
26"Look at the birds. They don't plant, harvest, or gather the harvest into barns. Yet, your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren't you worth more than they?

Luke 12:6
 6"Aren't five sparrows sold for two cents? God doesn't forget any of them. 7Even every hair on your head has been counted. Don't be afraid! You are worth more than many sparrows.

What we look like now

We had family pictures taken  last weekend.  The little kids were in a mood.  I'm always so surprised that our photographer can get any good ones of them at all!

My first 10k

Back in February, I ran my first 10k.  

I was number two. (a last name with the first letters "ab" is hard to beat.)

I ran with a bunch of friends.

Most of which passed me.

So I hung out with my pregnant friend.  I made sure she drank water and took a couple of walking breaks.  Because I'm that awesome of a doula.  (I can see my new advertisement now.  "If you hire me as your doula, I will run a 10k with you and make sure you stay healthy during your run!"  Okay.  Maybe not.)

Said friend tells me that 1/2 marathons are fun.  I blame her for my new training regimen.  (Or, I will blame her when I have to run 8 miles 7 weeks from now and 14 miles on week 15.)  

The pretty cool news.  I came in 16th in my age group, with a time of 1:03. (I was 149 overall, with 210 finishers.  So, solidly in the middle.  Where I like to be.)

A legacy

My grandpa passed away this past Saturday.  We got a call on Thursday that he had a stroke on Wednesday that left him unable to swallow or speak (he also had pneumonia and an infection in his foot.)  My grandpa had already asked that he not receive any life support, including a feeding tube.  One of my uncles traveled, immediately, up from Florida to be with him and to speak with the doctors. He did not see him until Friday morning.  My dad left on Friday, frantically trying to get there before my grandpa died. My parents were able to be with him (along with one of my uncles and aunts) as they moved my grandpa to the hospice facilities at the hospital.  My dad said that he was communicating with grunts, eye movements, and really trying to smile (he said you could tell it was frustrating him to not be able to speak.)

E and our family had packed up Friday night in efforts to leave first thing on Saturday morning to try to get to N.C. before my grandpa died.  However, my dad called at 4:30 in the morning to tell me that my grandpa had passed. (Two of my cousins had driven through the night from MI and arrived only 30 minutes or so after he died.) 

Through out the next couple of days, more and more of our family arrived.  Until all of the brothers, all but one of the 11 grandchildren, and 9 of the great grand children were gathered in Waynesville, N.C.  (we all had to travel. Not one of us lives in N.C. My grandpa moved there in his later adult life.) 

Even though we were grieving, and processing the loss of my grandpa, we were able to reconnect with our family.  My grandpa's legacy.  What a great legacy it is. 

All of us

 The brothers.  My dad is the 2nd from the right.

My family, my brother and sister-in-law and my parents

My dad and my boys.

Things I've been meaning to blog about, but haven't

Eliza got her 15 month pictures taken.  Unfortunately, I took so dang long choosing which pictures I wanted, I am still waiting to get them.  She's 16 months now. But, the sweetness.  Her complexion is just gold.  Well, ivory, really.  But, its so sweet and pale and perfect.

Our big kids were in the chorus in a musical at school- Alice in Wonderland.  I had to whip up some lobster claws for A.  The kids did great, and I enjoyed what I could while chasing a 15 month old around.  (Although, it reaffirmed by dislike of the Alice in Wonderland story/movie.  Not a fan.  I find it creepy.)

I made pirate patches for the boys' valentines.  (O didn't want to do them.  Something about pirates being for boys.  oiy!)  

I've been training for my first 10k.  My race is on Sunday.  I'm super duper nervous, especially since this week has been super light on training because of life circumstances.  But, I got my new shoes a few weeks ago, broke them in, and I'm ready to go!

We went to this super cool place called "Supper Heroes .  They have comics as art, a room with an arcade game that the kids can play while you wait for your food, even supplies to make comics of your own at the table.  The kids loved it, the food was great, and the owner came out several times to check on us.  Plus, Isaac got to wear his batman costume.  

O's injections have been going well.  As of last week (so two weeks on the medicine) she's grown as much as she had an entire 18 months.  Only 1/4 of an inch, but its huge for her!  Unfortunately, we've run into some issues with our insurance.  I have to make, likely several, phone calls today to figure things out in order for her next shipment to arrive on time.  Have I ever mentioned how much I hate dealing with that sort of thing? 

Speaking of O, this girl turns eight a week from today.  Eight.  It seems so old!

The Star Wars Quilt

I know I posted a picture last month of A's Star War quilt that I made.  I was desperate for a picture, took a quickie with my phone, and put it on the blog.  I did take some better pictures with my real, non-phone camera.

I knew I wanted to make the boys some  quilts to fold at the end of their beds, but also small enough to use as a lap quilt in the car or watching tv.  I found material at Joanne's, but found it was pretty pricey (which is the story for all licenced fabric, don't you think?)  I started buying the fabric back in August using my 40% or 50% off coupons.  By November, I had found and purchased all of my fabric.

I did a "quilt as you go" type quilt for Eliza's room and O's bed.  However, I found I had a hard time preventing bunching on the backing.  I bucked up and decided to try a "real" quilt. You know.  One with a real quilt top, backing, and those silly "basting" pins you're supposed to use.

After gathering my materials, I quickly realized that a block quilt top was just not going to cut it. Cutting blocks would've cut out many of the characters faces, or the words. So I scoured the interwebs for an easy strip quilt.

I came across this tutorial.  It was perfect.  Strips?  Check.  Using the backing as binding? Check.

I started on my first quilt using her tutorial.  The strips came together nicely for the quilt top.  When it came time to baste, I thought I could skip over taping it to the floor, and just wing it with straight pins.  While I didn't have much bunching when quilting it together, I found that my backing was crooked.  Of course, I didn't find that out until AFTER I had quilted the ENTIRE THING!  So, alas, I had about 4 inches of backing on one side to use as binding, and only .5 inches on the other. Fail.

I had to find something to use as binding then, since I couldn't pull from the back fabric. (see?  This is why I'm a rule follower.  I should have known better.  Follow. The. Directions!)  I asked my friend Raechel, who I remembered, has done a quilt binding by hand.  She sent me in the direction of this tutorial.

I grabbed some extra fabric that I had left over from the boys' curtains, and got to work.  I didn't like it.  I can't blame the tutorial for the fact that it didn't turn out to be my favorite.  It was really my fault, and the fault of the very wiggly fabric.  But, E insisted it looked fine.  After my hours of work, I wasn't super keen on taking it all off anyway.

The next quilt went much smoother.  Especially since I decided to be a good girl and follow the directions.  I taped it all down in my family room, on the hardwoods, and got to pinning.  I sewed it all up, and, what do you know?  There was plenty of fabric on the back left for a binding.  Hurrah! 

 

 

 

The boys opened them up on Christmas morning and were less than impressed.  (of course, it was competing with things like a bb gun and a bike!)  However, since, they have loved having their very own blanket to cuddle up with at night, and they've even taken them on a road trip to visit my Grandpa. 

The funny part, though, is that they fight over the "good" quilt, even with out knowing how I feel about them.  Either they sense my secret loathing over the binding on the one quilt, or they just like the way the black looks versus the red.  In any case, we do not have any pictures of the "sad" quilt on Christmas day.  But, I have an action shot. 

He has me in stiches

Zeke's ankle bracelet



Saturday evening, we had to make our second, ever, E.R. visit. (Unfortunately, it was for the same child. He had a concussion before.)

We were heading to Grandma's house for dinner. Isaac asked to wear his Cars jammies. I mean, it was almost dinner time, we were just going to grandma's house, and he'd be changing into his jammies there soon anyway. Why not let him wear p.j.s?

Well, it turns out that we did make another stop. As we were getting everything/one loaded into the van, Isaac climbed up into his seat, as usual. He leaned over the edge to look at something (we think here. Not really sure.) and he fell out of his seat, out of the van, onto the garage floor. He bit all the way through his lip.

Now, as it happens, E and I weren't standing right there. I was getting food, diapers, etc. for Eliza in the house. E was loading up the back of the van. All of a sudden, I hear E yell my name. He yelled it in such a way that I knew some body had to go to the hospital. He brought in a screaming Zeke, completely covered in blood. (Y'all, it was so much blood. All over my sweet babies face, shirt and hands.)

I quickly grabbed a wet towel to put pressure on it. After I held it there for a second, I lifted up the now very bloody rag (which, of course, was a stark white burp cloth of Eliza's. oh well. She took one for the team.) and saw how bad it really was.

Thankfully, the other three kids were already buckled in their seats, waiting to go to grandma's. We rushed to the brand new E.R. right around the corner (which, in hindsight, we should've gone to the ped's E.R. Its a longer drive, but usually a shorter wait. Plus, much better for kiddos.) They sort of freaked when they saw blood all over him. We hadn't taken the time to clean him up. I just put pressure on it, drove with me sitting next to him keeping pressure on it. I hadn't even thought of the blood elsewhere.

We then proceeded to wait for 3.5 hours. Through out the course of the 3.5 hours, Isaac kept a diaper (cloth) pressed up against his lip. (He said the pressure made it feel better.) He was mostly calm, snugly, unless he had to take the pressure off for a nurse/orderly/doctor to check his lip. Then, it would start bleeding again, and he'd start crying again.  

 



 

At one point, he even got up and played with the sand table.  It didn't last long, however, because he couldn't do much with one hand.  When he let go to try to slide the critters over, he started screaming again.

 

Thankfully, my IL's came and got O and A right away.  They ate dinner at their house.  Eliza hung with us for a while.  E was chasing after her while I snuggled Zeke.  After hour 3, we had them stop by the hospital to pick up Eliza (after I nursed her) and take them all to our house to go to bed.  

 



 



 

 

One of the hardest times in my parenting career previously was watching a very tiny, and very dehydrated, O get an I.V. They couldn't find a vein and it was very rough.  Watching Zeke get his stitches was right up there with that, guys.  I was secretly balling inside.  They swaddled him in a blanket, then removed his diaper (which he kept screaming "I need my rag!!") then they held him down while the dr. injected the litocain into his wide-open lip.  It was terrible.  There was blood every where (since it started bleeding like crazy again when they took off the diaper.) he was swallowing it, and they just kept sticking him with the needle. 

 

The actual stitches went much better, but they covered his eyes.  He kept calling out for E and I, and we kept reassuring him that we were there, touching his knee/foot/leg, etc.  

After all of that was finished, all he could concentrate on was the strings in his lip.  He kept begging us to take them out.  That was when the nurse took him to pick out a Popsicle. (hurrah!) 

When we got home, he had some apple sauce and crashed. (by then, it was 9:30.) 

 

 

 

The day after:

 

He doesn't seem to mind the stitches much now.  The hardest part has been his inability to suck his fingers for comfort.  He's having a really hard time falling, and staying, asleep.  So, he's extra tired, and he can't even comfort himself when he's grumpy/angry/sad/frustrated either. *sigh* 

 

So, that was our Saturday evening.  While it was an adventure, I think I'd rather hang out at home in our jammies next time. 

Experience rules

In my parenthood journey, I've learned there are a few general rules.  I thought it might be helpful to pass that wonderful wisdom on to those naive less experienced parents who have yet to have these delightful rules apply.

1. Never, ever, EVER say "Oh, I'll never do_________" (you fill in the blank with whatever it is you think you'll never do as a parent.)  Guess what?  You almost always do it.  "I'll never sleep with my baby."  "I'll never let my child walk around with a sippy cup"  "I'll never let my baby only wear a diaper and shirt!" (ahem. last one was one of mine.) 

 

 Eliza: Queen of the t-shirt and diaper look.



 

 

2. Related to number one is rule number two.  Don't judge, (other parents) lest you be judged (by other parents).  "My child will NEVER behave like that in the store!"  "Sheesh!  Can't that mom stop her toddler from pushing my toddler down?"  "gosh, that child sure talks to her mom with an attitude for a 5 year old.  she must learn that at home."  Sure, your 9 month old may not be into pushing, tantrum throwing, or attitude talking.  But, trust me, they will grow into those things.  Quicker than you think, too.  Your child will be THAT child, smashing the bread in your grocery cart on purpose because he's mad.  Your child will be mean to other kids at some point.  My, then, 16 month old got into "trouble" at church almost every week for pushing kids down.  She was, by far, the smallest child in the class.  Weighing only 16 lbs.  But, she felt the need to display her dominance (or make up for her short stature.  Who really knows what goes through an 16 mth old's little head.) by pushing much larger kids down to the ground and saying a silent "boo ya!" 

 

 

O: World's smallest bully

 

 



3. Bragging and/or complaining publicly about something your child is doing will result in a negating of such activity.  For example, saying "yes, she does sleep through the night" (even with out "bragging") will likely result in your baby waking up 8 million times the following night.  "My child is potty trained!"  will, in the same manner, produce 15 accidents the next day, or, even more humiliating, a poop accident in his pants 5 minutes later.  (Better yet, is the pooping in the corner in his room a year after being potty trained.)  Reversely, tweeting "my baby won't stop crying!" will probably be the magic trick!  Thus forcing you to type a follow up tweet saying "never mind. #babyisbipolar" 

World's cutest room pooper

4.  The doctor rule:  Your child will be very sick at home.  Running a fever, fussing, and general malaise.  When you arrive at the doctor, with 4 kids in tow,  have paid your co-pay, and your child's fever will miraculously disappear.  she will be all non-sick smiles, flirting with the blond haired boy across the waiting room.  The pediatrician will, consequently, find absolutely nothing wrong with your child.  (Say good-bye to your $25 on your way out the door. )

 

 

Its $25 co-pay each child?!?

5.  Your mom really does know a thing or two about babies.  After all, she had you. So maybe she's not up to date on the current crib recalls, but she knows a thing or two about what babies love.  I remember fervently telling my mom that, under no circumstances, would O be rocked to sleep.  Not even by a visiting Mimi.  When I say no circumstances, I meant it.  Even when my mother was visiting us after I brought O home from the hospital.  As in, O was a teeny tiny newborn, who likely had no idea she was being rocked versus in the car.   (I think I read it in a book that you shouldn't associate sleep with rocking. You know, because books are perfect and all.) My mother, gently, told me how full of crap I was  I'd probably change my mind.  Which, I did.  (Not with O, but by A I was a rocking maniac.)

Zeke: Rock, rock, rocking on Heaven's door

So, there are my top five "rules" of motherhood.  Any more that you'd add?