Elyke’s Weblog

Time to go have a party!

Selah was baptized on August 1st and we, of course had a party after. Not so much for her since it was lost on her but we made it our annual end of summer party a bit early.We also celebrated Shannon’s foray into big sisterhood. When Shannon was baptized, at age 8 (we were late in deciding to be ‘good Catholics’) it was during the Easter vigil and late into the night. She never got a party so this was a combo event. As her big sister gift, we gave her a mini laptop.

We decided on a ‘Pig Pickin’, as is traditional after a baptism (I kid). It was hard work planning and putting it together, but we had a blast!  The pig thought otherwise, I’m certain.

I was so fortunate to have an old family friend do the pig part of the party- good ol’ North Carolina style BBQ. I was even more fortunate to have my friends and out of town family members come. It was a great celebration and as usual, Selah was ready for bed by 9:00pm and mommy was able to imbibe in some margaritas!

Prepping for the party

I am so thankful to the Godparents, my extended family and all of my great friends. I think we were eating BBQ for a week. It would have been longer if Dan had not been giving away so much of it – something he regretted soon after we ran out.

I managed to not lose my mind that day thanks to the help of a great brother in law (love me some Jeff!) and a husband that was willing to take orders without question. There was a keg to pick up and set up, catered food to be picked up, cakes, sodas and ice to fetch, not to mention all the accompaniments. The party was to start within minutes of the ceremony ending and not all of the guests were attending the service. I was pointing, directing and hustling all day. Selah (have I mentioned what a great baby she is?) took an extra long afternoon nap so I was able to stage things and make it happen. Between my father in law, an uncle, 2 brothers in law and a cousin, the Berrios men were at my command. Awesome!

One of my favorite moments was the picture of all of us smiling during the service- a great impromptu moment.

A little disturbing, isn't it?

Friends....or zombies?

My maternity leave seemed to be going on forever while I was in the middle of it and the …BAM…back to work. I returned on June 8th after 8 weeks off with my baby girl. Transitioning back in was easier than I thought it would be but in reflection, my time off seemed so short. And I swear, if my husband referred to it as my vacation one more time I was going to punch him in the ear. Now that we are alternating nights getting up with the baby, he understands a bit better. Good thing because I had my eye on that left ear.

Selah is a very good baby. She has a great disposition and everyone agrees it doesn’t come from me! She sleeps through most of the night so I am somewhat rested in the morning. She is officially 9 weeks old tomorrow. Smiling and cooing…it’s a treasure to see.

Baby Selah was due on April 7, but I knew I would go over her due date. The week before my mother fell down a flight of stairs and busted her radial head (elbow) and had another fracture in her right arm. Imagine a 9 month pregnant hormonal woman trying to help her mother do the most basic of things like bathing, dressing, and eating. Thankfully my mother is a fit and youthful woman. During the diagnosis in the ER (she was out of town across the country when she fell) a chest x-ray revealed some mass. The ER doctor was concerned her cancer may have returned. This added another element to the drama. 

We went to the oncologist and thankfully it was scar tissue that had been there before. Now we had to deal with a busted arm. (Did I mention I was 9 months pregnant?) The day after the baby was due, mom had surgery and her radial head was replaced with a metal one. Ouch. At this point I was grateful (sort of) the baby was past her date so I could help mom out.

The next week, as mom was recovering, my induction date was set for the 14th. Induction sucks.

We went in at 7:45 am and all went well. Selah was born at 1:44 that afternoon. She was tiny, weighing in at 5 lb. 15 oz. Healthy, but petite. This alarmed me as my first daughter was well over 7 1/2 lb. when she was born. When I delivered the placenta, which was taking too long and posed a threat of surgery (imagine delivering a baby naturally and then having to have surgery!!!), it was discovered that I had a bilobal placental. Basically it was divided in 2 separated by a membrane which caused the baby to not get all the nutrients the whole placenta was providing. This explained the lower than anticipated birth weight. But the baby was still within the normal range, so all was well.

Until about 30 minutes later…I started to bleed out. The doctor was called back to the hospital and he went to work on me. I was cold, shaking and going into shock from the blood loss- but I did not fully grasp the seriousness of the situation. My husband did. I was revived with smelling salts and lots of conversation from the nurse…which at the time I did not want. I wanted to get under the blanket and sleep. Actually this was me wanting to pass out, unbeknownst to me.

The doctor removed another lobe from the placenta that was still in there. He managed to stop the bleeding and I had to stay in the L&D room until late that evening. I recovered well and quickly after the hemorrhaging was stopped. Only then, after talking to my husband, did I fully understand the seriousness of the situation. During the chaos my husband patted me on the hand to excuse himself and sat down. A nurse came in to tend to him! When I laughed, and no one else in the room did, I should have realized it was bad. He could watch the birth and most of the aftermath, but the blood loss was overwhelming. I was set up with an additional IV in case I needed a transfusion, but luckily I did not need it.

The next day, my otherwise cool and collected Doctor, told me what a scare I had given him! I mentioned that I had all the confidence in the world when it happened (read: oblivious) and he said “Well, I did not.” That sent a chill through me. But all is well that ends well.

Baby and I came home with no issues on the 16th. I have been up and around feeling great, aside from sleep deprivation, ever since. AND I got in my pre-pregnancy jeans within the week! Shallow til the end!

Mom is doing great too and had the cast removed. Looks like she will not need physical therapy and she is healing well.

God does provide and he has blessed my family. Selah is a word in the bible found multiple times in Psalms. It means ‘to pause and reflect on God’s word’. This was picked out for her before she was born.

by searching ‘big huge tatas’, I’m sure it was a disappointment to you!

Trudging along during the start of my 37th week of pregnancy, I have made time for very little. I am still working full time and plan to up until my due date. I was fortunate to have had 2 Baby Showers, one at work on the 4th and my friends and family one on the 7th. People were super generous and I got some great stuff. Word to the Gravidas out there- don’t put clothing on your registry- your gonna get it anyway! People LOVE to buy baby clothes and cannot help themselves. Can’t say I am much different.

All I really need is a bath tub for baby…oh and a name! I’ve been hanging onto the same name for awhile but not fully committed. It’s hard because you may look into your little one’s eyes for the first time and think the name does not suit them! On the flip side I have not actually searched for another name to have just in case. My mom is in love with the name I ‘picked’ and my husband’s only request is that it contains ‘el’, which this particular name does.

Now I have to write out my thank you notes. Something I looked forward to doing at first but now I dread. I am grateful, that is for sure, but I want each one to bear a true sentiment and that is difficult after a while. Wish me luck.

The pregnancy is moving along just fine as I discover new ways to be slightly uncomfortable. Walking through the parking lot at work today I had a new pang. Something is hitting the bladder and it’s not a little foot or hand. Maybe ligament pain? Maybe my pelvic bone is shifting into place? I have not idea but I’m glad it stopped.

I also think I am in training for the ‘middle of the night’ feedings. Every night I wake up around 3 am with this little ritual. Thirsty- gulp down some bedside water, bladder full- gotta pee, and then as I lay me down to sleep- ha not so quickly!- heartburn. Thanks Tums.

Under 8 weeks to go…

I like to think of myself as a realist. I don’t like drama. I grew up with chaos and drama and I choose to not entertain it. This makes for a sometimes difficult relationship with my mother- source of my childhood chaos and drama. I believe that I learned a lot from growing up in that environment. I stop and think before I react- most of the time.

Even being pregnant and full of hormones, I analyze my behavior and if necessary, apologize for it- profusely. My husband is a very practical man and can come across as insensitive, when in fact, he will do almost anything for anybody, friend, family member and strangers. 

I visit a pregnancy website for insight on all things related and I read so much drama. I don’t engage, but it is hard not to want to finger wag at some of the nonsense I see there. Women with boyfriends having their 3rd child and being dumped. Ladies, choose who you mate with wisely. Apparently that is an insensitive approach to a situation. But the last thing I think someone who continually makes bad decisions needs is a virtual hand pat. It annoys me. I don’t tolerate self made victims very well. 

I have spent the last 3 days, mostly in bed, with degenerative disc pain. Excruciating pain that, previously, warranted narcotics. Now because of my condition I could only alternate tylenol and ibuprofen with heat and cold. The only one who suffered aside from myself, was my husband. He had to do more and tend to me more than usual. Oh and hear my yelps of pain from the muscle spasms. I thought about posting my condition on the boards for any insight to easing the pain but thought better. All they are good for is a collective pity party. Not my style and so my issue remains my problem. 

Maybe that is another reason I was hoping for a boy this time. Most females are way too sensitive and I have little patience for that once a certain age is reached. What is that age? I’m not sure. My daughter tends to overreact to the slightest discomfort or pain. Put a new pair of Nike basketball shoes on her and she walks like Tiny Tim. Very dramatic. But I don’t want to damage her for life so I temper my reaction – most of the time. Other times I reach critical mass and tell her to ‘butch up’. 

Don’t misunderstand me, I am thrilled to be having another girl. Girls are great and funny and charming and sweet and oy….high maintenance. I’m pretty high maintenance too except I have found a way to manage my own maintenance. I know a couple of females that are what I have diagnosed as ‘histrionic’. Yeah I looked it up. And it fits…to a tee.

My summation of life is this over used yet relevant statement:

If you always do what you always did, you’ll always get what you always got.

Nuff said.

We found out earlier this month that we are having another girl. I have to admit, I was a bit disappointed at first. The MAN has a daughter from his first marriage and our first is a girl. But I truly believe that God gives you what you need and that isn’t always what you want. What is most important, as cliche as it sounds, is that she is healthy. Now I am stuck on names. I know I have plenty of time to figure this out, but it is such an important task I know I will spend too much time thinking it over- only to change my mind at the last minute.

I explained to S that I think God gave her a little sister because she can teach her everything she knows- not as easy to do when it’s a boy, S is very excited and the MAN was happy regardless. Although at one point prior to the US he did say I could keep having them until I had a boy. Uh, I don’t think so. 

Now I am deciding on the color scheme for the nursery. I have semi-committed to apple green. It seems like everything for babies has this version of green in it so maybe I can’t go wrong. 

I keep reflecting on how blessed we truly are. At 41, getting pregnant was super easy- my second month off of bc and BAM- ol’ Jed’s a millionaire. It has been a pretty easy pregnancy too. No morning sickness and just a few aches and pains that are to be expected. My genetic testing ratios are excellent and all looks well so far.

This Thanksgiving, we had family from out of town and other friends with us to celebrate the holiday. We fried a turkey for the first time and, just in case, I prepared a scrumptious tenderloin of beef. The turkey, with a few temperature and oil related challenges, came out pretty good. I prepared homemade sage sausage stuffing, mac n cheese, redskin mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, cinnamon apples, green bean casserole (yuck), gravy and a variety of desserts. Being on my feet for 4 hours straight did a number on my back but all went off without a hitch. 

My table was gorgeous and my guests gracious. Isn’t that more than enough to be grateful for?

VA State Bar Admission Ceremony

and we passed a milestone. 

I am so proud of my husband for achieving this. He attended Law school back in 1986/87. Soon after that first year, he was married and a father. He worked and put his aspirations of being an Attorney on hold. Fast forward to wife number 2, me, and he was able to pick up that dream again. After 3 years of ‘Reading the Law’ or Law Clerking, for no pay, he was ready for the Bar. It has been 4 years of dedication and commitment from him and it has finally paid off. 

Dan was one of 3 Attorneys sworn in on Monday that were Law Readers. The ratio of readers passing the Bar is 1 in 10. He is truly an exceptional man and I am proud I was with him for the ride.

Shannon & me in the audience.

When I was a lil’ Catholic School girl, I walked about a block or so to my bus stop. I was the only kid there as the other kids caught a later bus to the local school. I had to get there early because, given the distance between stops, my bus could come within a 15 minute window of time. The house my stop was in front of housed 2 sisters. One, who was beautiful, would rock out with loud music while, I assume, she was getting ready for school. Her sister, who was a bit younger , was mentally challenged. I remember the beautiful one yelling at her a lot, but like I would expect an older sister would, not because of her disability.
I recall the younger girl, on occasion, coming out to talk to me. Later, when I attended public school, in the 9th grade I would learn the older sister was my age. A few short years later, by the time we attended High School together, they had moved. But I was always envious of her natural beauty. I am not sure why we never became friends. She was rather aloof and hung out with some other girls that I always assumed were mean.
At work, there is a gal that works in our mailroom I have had the pleasure of encountering on several occasions. Since I am the only person from my department in the main building, my mail has proven to be an occasional challenge and she has never missed the chance to tell me so.
Recently, I was reviewing the organization chart for the group the mailroom belongs to.
I recognized the last name. It was the same name of the pretty girl who’s house I sat in front of during those Catholic School days. The girl in the mailroom, Jennifer, was the mentally challenged sister.
I approached her that day, telling her I knew she had a sister named Whitney and I knew what street she used to live on. Of course I did not do this in a frightening, stalkerish way!
She immediately began to blush and showed me pictures of her sister and nephews.
My big world got a little smaller that day. It also brought back memories of sitting on that COLD concrete sidewalk, waiting for that bus to come – sometimes wondering if I was too late or if it was way late.
I remember that cold December morning in 1980 when I had heard on the radio that John Lennon had been shot. I was 13 years old. I sat at my bus stop and pondered why something so senseless had occurred.
Then there was the more mundane memories. Like that huge shrub that edged the sidewalk and had these disgusting worms/slugs that would cocoon themselves around the evergreen leaves of the bush. Creepy, gross and freaky. Sometimes one would peer out of the edge of it’s cocoon and scare the crap out of me.
I find it comforting to know what happened to “someone like” Jennifer. She seems happy, is gainfully employed and considered a valued employee. This hits home more today than ever. Expecting my 2nd child at the age of 41 has given me an increased change to have a disabled child. Seeing a strong woman like Sarah Palin have a Downs Syndrome baby and seeing a woman like Jennifer living their lives to the fullest brings a new strength I may need to rely on in the future, should that be God’s plan for me.