The Orange Ball

The trip from McAllen to Tyler was long and hard. I talk about it like it was last week, when, in fact, it's been 6 months. It lasted a grueling 14 hours, I guess that Mapquest doesn't consider travel with children when it calculates 9 hours and 14 minutes.

I know, that's just drive time. It doesn't know that you're going to stop within the first 30 miles so that your daughter, who gets car sick going around the block, can puke up her breakfast. (I, then, gave her the max dose of children's Benadryl and she was much, much better.) Or the need to stop at nearly every town so that someone can go to the bathroom.

We actually only stopped in that 14 hours twice to eat and twice for gas. The rest of the trip was peppered with *I'm going to puke again* and *I can just pee on the side of the road if you stop*. Let me clarify, the first came from my daughter, the second from my son who is 7 and still believes that the world is his toilet.

It's actually an experience that I had chosen to forget. Stuck in a car with only one other adult, two children and a guinea pig. We followed the *men* in the U-haul. My poor Grace was stuck in the car the entire time. The two big kids got to take turns riding in the U-haul, which was completely awesome to them. (They were sad when I had to turn it back in.)

While we had my son in the car I gave him my camera to keep him entertained. He took about 300 pictures within about 5 miles. 300 pictures of trees, signs, the back of the U-haul, and other vehicles.

We stopped to eat at a very yummy BBQ place. I let him take the camera in and got about 100 pictures of the crap that those places like to sell, most of the pictures having something to do with candy (Hey, he's 7).

There were also about 50 random pictures of a hotel, the gas station (which shows the price of gas at $1.79), the inside of the car, and the guinea pig. The best pictures of the group, in my mommy opinion, are the two dozen or so of the orange ball that was included in his kid's meal from DQ.

Like a big, dirty 18-wheeler...

I was so completely unaware of the impact that Grace's birthday would have on me. I'm not one of those really mushy moms who record every event, every minute of their children's lives. I don't remember the exact date when each of them first rolled over, spoke their first words, or took their first steps. I was too busy enjoying the moment, recording the images in my mind, to remember the dates, or to even remember to write it down.

To redeem myself among moms I have taken, probably, a trillion pictures. I have filled so much space on the hard drive, I have dozens of DVDs filled, and not to mention the many, many photos from before the advent of the digital camera (which was my salvation).

But yesterday hit me like a big, dirty 18-wheeler and when I turned to see what hit me all I could see was the mud flaps with the silhouette of a pin-up model and the sticker *How's my driving*. I didn't catch the number or I so would have called.

It's really hard for me to admit this. I'm just not one of those women. I'm not emotional. I don't get all squealy at kittens and babies. I'm a *suck it up, you'll be fine* mom.

I sat in front of the computer all Sunday night into Monday morning looking at baby pictures. Going over them again and again. I couldn't take my eyes off of the innocence. The last little life that was to ever come from my womb. It was really bothering me that I would not have anymore babies. That my children were growing.

I want to watch them grow. I look forward to it. Not just because each day brings me closer to the day when I can walk around my house naked and not worry about these poor, little lives being traumatized by it. No. I look forward to seeing them grow and mature into people who have dreams and ambitions. Who will go out and make a difference in the world. I look forward to them meeting someone whom they love and want to raise a family with. I look forward to being a part of that family.

I celebrated the day as only a mommy can. By taking a few moments to replay in my mind our first kiss. The first moment when my nose nuzzled her neck and she looked me right in the eyes as if to say *I hope you're ready, this is going to be a wild ride*.

The Sweetest Sound

It's 3:16am on Grace's birthday; and four years ago, right at this moment, Grace still resided in my belly.

During my last trimester I suffered terrible insomnia. I played so much computer mahjong that I saw it in my eyelids when I would finally sleep. I guess that my body knew that I would be delivering her the next morning because I fell asleep before 2am. I was woken at 5am by my water breaking. This was really super special for me because with Lori my water was broken by the nurse at the hospital and Anthony was a planned c-section 1 week before my due date, so my water didn't break with him at all.

I got up and showered and played a little mahjong. I thought it was too early to wake up everyone else. At about 7:00 I started to feel some regular contractions and thought that I might get my husband up. You see, Grace was also a planned c-section due to a prior c-section. My doctor was worried that a vaginal birth wouldn't be safe, especially since we were such a small hospital.

I called my mom to meet us at the hospital and I got Jon and the kids up. I remember telling Jon that he was going to have to call in to work because my water broke. He FREAKED!! *When did this happen? Why didn't you wake me sooner?!*

When we got to the hospital things started to move so fast. It was about 8:00. It's a small hospital and everything starts in the ER. I jumped in the OB bed and they strapped me in.

My doctor was called and, boy, did things start going. Surgery was called in, anesthesia was called. The kids were taken by my sister.

I remember the nurse, who came in to insert my foley, told me that I smelled clean *like soap* down in my girl junk.

They came to get me to take me to surgery and were going to try to make my mom wait in the waiting area. Only one family member was allowed in surgery and Jon wasn't going to leave my side. If you know my mom, that was not an option. They did know my mom. She was given a set of scrubs and I left her and Jon in the hallway while they prepped me.

The thing that frightened me most about c-sections was the epidural. They tried to give me one with Lori, but, even after 3 tries, couldn't get it. It hurt crazy bad. It took twice for them to get it with Anthony. The one for Grace wouldn't be any different.

It was a blur in surgery. I remember my husband holding my hand. I remember my mom's eyes tear up as she watched. I remember vomiting. I remember that the usual conversation that my doctor carries with him everywhere stopped and the room got very quiet. Then my doctor said that the cord was wrapped twice around Grace's neck and he'd have to cut it before he could lift her out.

Time felt like it stretched on and on, forever and forever, before I heard her cry for the first time. It was 9:16.

That has got to be the sweetest sound. The first shrill cry that signifies breath and life. There is so much meaning filling that one moment. A moment that I will never forget.

New Pants

For clarification, I do not have anything against nurses or anyone who aspires to be a nurse. More power to you. You can handle, or don't mind handling, pretty much anything. I also understand that my knowledge and opinions are based on a small area of the medical field.

I've worked mainly in the clinical setting or in emergency patient care. I did a few months working as an aid in med/surg. So, I understand that there are so many more opportunities for nurses out there than I have possibly given credit for. So many areas to work in that can be interesting, rewarding, and even fun.

I have the joy of knowing a nurse who has begun a new job in hyperbarics and she is completely excited to be there. Knowing her and her excitement of her new job has led me to write this.

I have felt a little guilty for my last post. It's very narrow and is based entirely on me and my experiences. I haven't worked labor and delivery, pediatrics, surgery, or ICU. When I was entertaining the idea to be a nurse those were the areas that I felt that I had the strongest chance in, besides ER. I just don't feel like nursing *fits* me.

The idea of nursing, for me, was like wearing a pair of pants that were a size too small. I've been wearing those pants for so long that I began to put them on without thinking. I didn't like it, it was uncomfortable, but it was what I was use to. I thought that there might be another pair of pants out there somewhere that would fit me better, maybe even be comfortable and fit so well that I felt confident.

Well, I've decided to go out there and look for that new pair of pants. I want to feel the totally new feeling of comfort and confidence.

Did you follow that?

Ear Wax

So, I'll spill a little secret about myself. I'm obsessive. Not like crazy obsessive, like I have to wash my hands 23 times with lime verbena soap and do 11 circles to the left before I can leave the house (not that there's anything wrong with that, my motto is *don't judge me, I won't judge you*). No, I think about stuff. Then I think about it again. Then I rethink it. Rethink it again. Make my decision. Rethink my decision... You get the idea.

I've been going through this spiral with my decisions about school. You can see this in my last post. I'm still obsessing about it. It has actually begun to make my stomach hurt and wake me at night.

I know there are bigger issues out there, I really do, but I tend to focus mostly on my little world, and this effects my little world.

Leading up to my *sob* 30th birthday a little over a week ago I obsessed about the thought that I would be *sob* 30 with no known career path. I renewed my car insurance a few months ago and when I was asked my occupation I said student. The girl just looked at me like I was kidding. Student.

After obsessing over this *to be a nurse or not to be a nurse* thing I've decided to do a pros and cons list. I mentioned this yesterday. My pros have maintained a steady 3, my cons grow and grow and...

Well, here's what I have so far:

PROS:

• the pay is very competitive and will be good for supporting my family
• I can pick a shift that will work the best for me and my family
• I would have really awesome stories to tell at parties

CONS

• Foley catheters and having to look at/touch scary private junk
• anything that has to do with the word *rectal*
• people who let their kids consume flaming hot Cheetos and big red soda while they wait in the ER to be seen for vomiting
• ear wax - i just have a major problem with ear wax and I always seem to get those patients that have impacted ear wax and they think that they are going, or have gone, deaf
• uncontrollable diarrhea on an immobile patient
• I should just add wiping butts in general
• I do not look cute in scrubs, I honestly just look like I didn't even try to look nice even when I do
• I can't wear acrylic nails, I don't wear acrylic nails, I just want the option
• if I screw up I could possibly kill someone and I just don't want to have to deal with that
• I like to wear smelly lotions and I won't be able to at work
• NG tubes
• OG tubes
• gastric lavage
• wounds that smell
• wounds with puss
• wounds with maggots, I am neither kidding nor making this up, I've seen it and it's not pretty
• basically all wounds, if it's not fresh I don't want any part in it
• people who have phlegm in their throat and want the whole floor to know about it by making that gurgle, cough, hack noise that makes me gag
• nurses with the *God complex*
• doctors with the *God complex*
• patients with the *God complex*
• people that stick things in their bodies and claim that they don't know how *that got there*
• having to pretend that I care even when I don't

There you go. Now you can also tell the little selfish things that I just don't want to give up.

That's really all I have to say. I don't have any smooth ending or a moral of the story. It's just as it is. And as one of my favorite British sitcom characters puts it, *At the end of the day... You know what I mean.*

I've finally listened to my husband... *gasp*

For the entire length of our marriage (9 years) and the year that preceded our super romantic, albeit inexpensive, nuptials, Jon has told me to *write it down*. For everything from remembering bananas at the store, directions for something or to something, and especially when I've experienced something that I chose to experience and in the end wish that I hadn't or wanted to remember to never experience again. This falls into that last category.

It also falls in line with a previous post where I hinted that there would be a topic on my *major* dilemma. It all began back when I went to college the first time. I was just out of high school and I really did not make the choice of my college, my major, or my scholarships. My theater teacher/director did all of this. I just started getting mail with instructions and little stickers that said *sign here*, which, of course I did. My major was theater and I showed up and went with the flow. Not to say that I didn't have a rockin' good time, I did, but I knew that this would amount to nothing and I quit. After just over two semesters I ran off to the *big* city, met my would be husband and had a kid.

After kid #1 was born I decided that I needed schooling to get ahead in life and decided to enroll in business school. I went for about six months when I quit. I was bored and I felt like I was getting no where. I worked a job here and there and two years and two months after #1 came #2.

I began to worry about how I was going to care for these kids. I wanted to give them a better life than I had, I didn't want to worry about how I was going to afford the little things. Jon has always had a good job, but I wanted to also be an active member of society and have an active role in improving our financial situation. I went through a certificate program to be a medical assistant. I did actually get a job doing what I went to school for and the money was pretty good. I did figure out, though, that I preferred the front office to the back office and I didn't mind transcribing letters and working with insurance companies to get things paid for.

At the time that I was working full time at the physician's office I went through the local EMT training program and became a paramedic. It was fun. I've had experiences that I would never have had if I hadn't done that. I did really like it, but again I couldn't see myself doing it forever. During this kid #3 appeared and I felt that I didn't have any choice, I just needed to stick it out. I even worked in a level one trauma center and while the trauma was great, and yes I am a horrible person because the agony of others gave me a rush, the medical portion sucked.

After a while, I'm talking months, I quit working all together. I became a stay at home mom, but I wanted more. I mean I love my kids, but being with them all day will some day kill me. I need interaction from people who can read past a fourth grade level, not that I'm guaranteed I will get this in society. I love caring for my family and it is important to me, but I get a lot of my worth from what I do outside the home and if I'm contributing.

Now for that warp sound, like in movies when time passes.

Last June, that's just over a year ago, I decided to go back to college. Not a certificate program, real college. Not that I'm knocking certificates or anything, I've just found that I'm normally a quitter and I think that going to real college will make me finish. I thought long and hard about my major before enrolling. What did I think would be interesting? Who's job did I always think was so easy? - not a very good question.

I ended up majoring in Radiology Technology. I got all hyped up. My *platform* was boobs and our need to protect them. I was going to do mammograms. I got majorly into it. That lasted one summer semester. If your not familiar with a summer semester it's about six weeks long. I said it earlier, I'm a quitter. But more than that I can't make a decision and keep it to save my life. I change my mind more often than I change razor blades, and that's bi-weekly. The moment I make up my mind to do something I take it and run with it, but the moment I get tired my mind starts changing (and I can't run very far, probably to the end of the block, maybe).

I did some deep thinking. What am I passionate about? What have I always wanted to do but didn't have the guts to do? I decided on nursing. My long term goal was to be a midwife. Again I jumped into it with both feet. I was going to go through the nursing program at the college and do a midwifery program at the same time. I got totally into it. I thought *this is it, this is what I was meant for*. I applied for a scholarship for the midwifery program. I didn't get it. I quit. I thought *screw it, maybe it wasn't meant to be*. That actually lasted the second summer semester and about half of the fall semester. When I got that rejection letter I changed my major.

I did some *soul searching*. I dug deep, really deep. I asked myself * What job have I done that I really enjoyed?*. For a while a few years prior I was a substitute teacher. I thought back to that. It made me decide to become a kindergarten teacher. Let me take this moment to mention that fact that I do not like kids. I can handle them for a bit, but in general they annoy me. Forgetting this one important fact, I changed my major to elementary education.

Surprise!! This lasted for the second half of the fall semester and about three weeks into the spring semester. I changed my major, again. I went back to nursing and midwifery.

I just have to say that my psychology professor did mention that the average student changes their major four times before sticking with something, so in this I am average.

Again I dove in. I bought books. I joined websites. I followed news on laws concerning midwives. I educated myself. I had everything planned up through my masters degree. But this small voice in the back of my head kept repeating one thing *I DON'T WANT TO BE A NURSE!*. This is the same voice that haunted me every time I thought about nursing. Every time I thought *just maybe*. I would push that voice back further and try to drown it out with cherry Dr. Pepper and the fumes of play-dough. I would think *this is the next logical step in my life, plus the money is good*.

I just have this feeling in my gut that there is something better out there. Something that I have yet to try that I may be very good at and really enjoy doing. Why should I follow that *next logical step*?

I've decided to take this semester and try new things. Things I've never really done before but have an interest in. I figure. I can't apply for nursing school until spring. Why not. I've just filled this semester with medical classes that I can easily take in the spring if I don't find anything I like any better. And I know what you're thinking *this crazy chick is going through a spiral that will never end, just be a nurse for goodness sake*. But I just can't do it without looking further. I've started a pros and cons list and the cons for nursing have grown like a football player on roids. The pros have stayed with my initial 3. Like my husband has always told me, I've finally written it down and it's all so much clearer. And I'm finally content, not happy, but content.

Grace

I think that I will begin with my wonderful Grace. I love her so much that it hurts, but she drives me nuts!!