Despite most people's opinion that I'm clinically insane for enrolling my seven-week old son in waterbabies, last night was a complete and total success. Just about everyone who knows us knows that we're water people. Surfing, diving, swimming, beaches - you name it. Sometimes I even shower twice a day, just to be in the water. I want Daniel to love water just as much as we do so when Rachel called me about this class, we went for it.
It's 8 weeks in 30-minute segments on Tuesday nights. What could it hurt? The director said that we could just pay for one lesson to see how it went before we paid our full enrollment fee.
Daniel obviously can't do many of the activities yet, but who cares? He loved being in the water. Maybe by the end of the class, he'll be able to do some of the actvities, although I'm not holding my breath on the jumping-off-the-wall thing. As long as he's happy and it's not hurting him, we're there. Not to mention the fact that he slept for 7 hours last night - woot!
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Monday, July 7, 2008
Life-changing event
I'll try not to get too detailed, but here's the story of Daniel's entrance into the world:
As you can tell from my previous blogs, I'd been having contractions for about two weeks. Ten or so minutes apart, not too painful, a little annoying. Thursday night around 6:00, I started having contractions, ten or so minutes apart, not too painful, a little annoying. By about 8:00, I decided that they were more than a little annoying and started keeping track. By 10:30, they were 3-5 minutes apart and I was grimmacing through them, refusing to talk to Doug or answer his questions. With about 10 minutes left in the second National Treasure, I decided we HAD to go. No more waiting or wondering if "this" was it - I knew it was showtime.
We got to triage around 10:45 and got hooked up to the monitor. I was measuring right at 4 cms and my contractions were pretty consistent - 3-5 minutes apart. Amy, my nurse, asked Doug and I to walk around for about an hour to see if I progressed any further. After MANY laps around labor and delivery, we went back to triage. I said about the tenth prayer of the night, Amy said I was at 5 cms and we were staying. I sighed a huge sigh of relief and thanked God, again.
By the time we were admitted and got to a room, it was about 2:00 am. By this point, my contractions were about 2 minutes apart and very painful. Hook me up to that epidural - STAT! Dr. Prus came in and started the drugs. Slight bump in my so-far perfect labor - Dr. Prus thought he "missed." Not missed in the sense that I'd never walk again, but missed in the sense that he thought he may have punctured the spinal membrane. Not terrible, but if had fully doped me up, we could have been in trouble. All this meant was that I only got a mild dose of the epidural. He told me to get some sleep and he'd be back to check on me later. Amy checked me then and I was at 8 cms. Talk about flying. . .
About an hour later, I woke up and could feel the contractions again. I called Amy and asked if Dr. Prus could come redo my epidural. Fortunately, he didn't have to. He checked me out and had not missed. He gave me another dose and I was out like a light. I slept until 7:00 when Amy checked me again (9.5 at this point), checked out and handed me off to Aimee and Kim, my new nurses. They were a hoot. Here's where we really start flying.
At 8:30, Dr. Strong showed up, checked me out, and declared that I was 10 cms, Daniel was in position, and I should get ready. Aimee and Kim suggested that we "practice" pushing. We talked about it, waited for a contraction, and I gave it all I had. I heard Kim say, "He has dark hair!" and I almost died. I couldn't believe she could already see his head! Two more pushes through that contraction, and they were off to find Dr. Strong.
He came in wearing a polo and jeans. Somebody told him, "Uh, Dr. Strong? I think you should get dressed."
"Yeah, I guess I should go put on some scrubs." About two minutes later, he was back, dressed, and ready to catch. My next contraction stared, I pushed once, and we had a head. I pushed again, and we had a baby. Literally five pushes was all it took. Woot for walking 2 miles a day!! :o)
Daniel was perfect (still is). 7 lbs 8 oz and 18 inches of pure bliss. I would imagine that this page (and blog) will be mostly dedicated to my life as a new mom, so stay tuned for updates.
As you can tell from my previous blogs, I'd been having contractions for about two weeks. Ten or so minutes apart, not too painful, a little annoying. Thursday night around 6:00, I started having contractions, ten or so minutes apart, not too painful, a little annoying. By about 8:00, I decided that they were more than a little annoying and started keeping track. By 10:30, they were 3-5 minutes apart and I was grimmacing through them, refusing to talk to Doug or answer his questions. With about 10 minutes left in the second National Treasure, I decided we HAD to go. No more waiting or wondering if "this" was it - I knew it was showtime.
We got to triage around 10:45 and got hooked up to the monitor. I was measuring right at 4 cms and my contractions were pretty consistent - 3-5 minutes apart. Amy, my nurse, asked Doug and I to walk around for about an hour to see if I progressed any further. After MANY laps around labor and delivery, we went back to triage. I said about the tenth prayer of the night, Amy said I was at 5 cms and we were staying. I sighed a huge sigh of relief and thanked God, again.
By the time we were admitted and got to a room, it was about 2:00 am. By this point, my contractions were about 2 minutes apart and very painful. Hook me up to that epidural - STAT! Dr. Prus came in and started the drugs. Slight bump in my so-far perfect labor - Dr. Prus thought he "missed." Not missed in the sense that I'd never walk again, but missed in the sense that he thought he may have punctured the spinal membrane. Not terrible, but if had fully doped me up, we could have been in trouble. All this meant was that I only got a mild dose of the epidural. He told me to get some sleep and he'd be back to check on me later. Amy checked me then and I was at 8 cms. Talk about flying. . .
About an hour later, I woke up and could feel the contractions again. I called Amy and asked if Dr. Prus could come redo my epidural. Fortunately, he didn't have to. He checked me out and had not missed. He gave me another dose and I was out like a light. I slept until 7:00 when Amy checked me again (9.5 at this point), checked out and handed me off to Aimee and Kim, my new nurses. They were a hoot. Here's where we really start flying.
At 8:30, Dr. Strong showed up, checked me out, and declared that I was 10 cms, Daniel was in position, and I should get ready. Aimee and Kim suggested that we "practice" pushing. We talked about it, waited for a contraction, and I gave it all I had. I heard Kim say, "He has dark hair!" and I almost died. I couldn't believe she could already see his head! Two more pushes through that contraction, and they were off to find Dr. Strong.
He came in wearing a polo and jeans. Somebody told him, "Uh, Dr. Strong? I think you should get dressed."
"Yeah, I guess I should go put on some scrubs." About two minutes later, he was back, dressed, and ready to catch. My next contraction stared, I pushed once, and we had a head. I pushed again, and we had a baby. Literally five pushes was all it took. Woot for walking 2 miles a day!! :o)
Daniel was perfect (still is). 7 lbs 8 oz and 18 inches of pure bliss. I would imagine that this page (and blog) will be mostly dedicated to my life as a new mom, so stay tuned for updates.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Lesson
I have to learn my lesson. I have to learn that no matter how ready I am for Daniel to arrive, he's just not going to budge until he's good and ready and He's good and ready. I cannot control the fact that I have friends and family coming in this weekend from all over the country who will just happen to be here for July 4th. I cannot control whether I have a new baby to share with them. I cannot control when I start having contractions and I cannot control where I am when the show begins. I cannot control anything beyond myself – I have to learn my lesson.
Don't get me wrong – this pregnancy has been amazing. I'm not miserable (not really, anyway) and I don't feel like I might die if I don't have this baby right this very minute. Sure I'm tired. Sure my wedding ring doesn't fit right now. Sure having contractions from 7 pm – 3 am makes sleeping difficult. All those things aside, I'm still ok – physically speaking. At this point, it's a mind game (with myself, of course). Learn my lesson – that's what I have to do.
Learn my lesson.
Don't get me wrong – this pregnancy has been amazing. I'm not miserable (not really, anyway) and I don't feel like I might die if I don't have this baby right this very minute. Sure I'm tired. Sure my wedding ring doesn't fit right now. Sure having contractions from 7 pm – 3 am makes sleeping difficult. All those things aside, I'm still ok – physically speaking. At this point, it's a mind game (with myself, of course). Learn my lesson – that's what I have to do.
Learn my lesson.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Holding pattern
I can say, finally, that I am getting anxious. I'm not scared or nervous - just ready for this to happen. I've been having contractions off and on since Friday. The most recent was about 9 minutes ago. I'm not very good at tracking these things, which makes it difficult to tell what's really going on.
When I was at the doc on Friday, I had dialated to 3 cms, nearly a third of the way there. That's reassuring, but a little odd to me as well. How can I be a third of the way to the pushing stage and continue doing normal every day stuff? I know people do it every day. It's just an odd thing.
Anyway, I'm ready to meet my little man. I'm ready to see whether he has my nose or Doug's; whether he'll be as bald as I was; whether he'll be a giant like his mommy or a little on the small side (prayers for the latter, please!). I'm ready. I'm beyond get set. I'm just waiting to go.
Until we actually make it to the hospital, I guess we're really just in a holding pattern, playing this waiting game. I don't know why these last 12 days should be any different than the first 200-something, but they are. God forbid we have to wait beyond July 5. . .
When I was at the doc on Friday, I had dialated to 3 cms, nearly a third of the way there. That's reassuring, but a little odd to me as well. How can I be a third of the way to the pushing stage and continue doing normal every day stuff? I know people do it every day. It's just an odd thing.
Anyway, I'm ready to meet my little man. I'm ready to see whether he has my nose or Doug's; whether he'll be as bald as I was; whether he'll be a giant like his mommy or a little on the small side (prayers for the latter, please!). I'm ready. I'm beyond get set. I'm just waiting to go.
Until we actually make it to the hospital, I guess we're really just in a holding pattern, playing this waiting game. I don't know why these last 12 days should be any different than the first 200-something, but they are. God forbid we have to wait beyond July 5. . .
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Crib chaos
Crib 1 - We went to Babies R Us the day we found out Daniel was Daniel (and not Lia). We looked at every crib they had, and believe me, there were many. I was more concerned with the way it looked; Doug wanted it to be solid as a sequoia. I figured that if it was on the floor, it passed the safety tests. The very last crib in the store was the only crib we could agree on. We registered for it, just in case. Three showers came and went and we decided it was time to buy the crib. Off to BRU we went. The changing table was there, but alas, no crib. What's the deal? Pulled. Why? Safety concerns. Maybe it's flamable; maybe it tips. Whatever the case, it's not my crib.
Crib 2 - I found a great crib on BRU.com. Right color, right user reviews, right everything. Except for one measly little detail - currently out of stock. Well hells bells. I Googled it and found it on several other baby furniture web sites. Guess what? Out of stock. Time to punt.
Crib 3 - We decided on a crib we found on craigslist. It came with a dresser/hutch, it was the right stain, and it looked like it was made from a redwood. Let's go for it. We called. No crib. Somebody else evidently liked it, too.
Crib 4 - Again, looked great. FINALLY in stock! We ordered it. I was supposed to receive an e-mail confirmation within 72 hours. Three days came and went. No e-mail. I called and (you won't believe this) it was on backorder until 5 days before my due date. What to do? Cancel the order and try again.
Crib 5 - After scouring eBay, craigslist, the greensheet, and every other place I could think of, I called Crib 4 back. I wonder - do you happen to have this crib in another stain? Sure do. Send it my way!
So. . . after 5 attempts, we finally have a crib. It came Monday, I brought it home Tuesday, and Doug put it together on Wednesday. Whew. I was really beginning to think that Daniel may have to sleep in a swing or a pack-and-play for a while. Looks like he'll actually have a place of his own, right from the very start.
Word to the wise (read wise as "those expecting children who do not yet own cribs"): Start now on your crib search. It could take you a while.
Crib 2 - I found a great crib on BRU.com. Right color, right user reviews, right everything. Except for one measly little detail - currently out of stock. Well hells bells. I Googled it and found it on several other baby furniture web sites. Guess what? Out of stock. Time to punt.
Crib 3 - We decided on a crib we found on craigslist. It came with a dresser/hutch, it was the right stain, and it looked like it was made from a redwood. Let's go for it. We called. No crib. Somebody else evidently liked it, too.
Crib 4 - Again, looked great. FINALLY in stock! We ordered it. I was supposed to receive an e-mail confirmation within 72 hours. Three days came and went. No e-mail. I called and (you won't believe this) it was on backorder until 5 days before my due date. What to do? Cancel the order and try again.
Crib 5 - After scouring eBay, craigslist, the greensheet, and every other place I could think of, I called Crib 4 back. I wonder - do you happen to have this crib in another stain? Sure do. Send it my way!
So. . . after 5 attempts, we finally have a crib. It came Monday, I brought it home Tuesday, and Doug put it together on Wednesday. Whew. I was really beginning to think that Daniel may have to sleep in a swing or a pack-and-play for a while. Looks like he'll actually have a place of his own, right from the very start.
Word to the wise (read wise as "those expecting children who do not yet own cribs"): Start now on your crib search. It could take you a while.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Showered with love
My mom's family had a baby shower for us this weekend. When I say "my mom's family," I mean the entire family. Everyone was present with the exception of one cousin, who happens to be stationed in Korea right now. We invited all of my work pals and our Bible study crew. I couldn't believe how many people were there, not to mention how many gifts accompanied those people.
You know, you go through life - making friends and avoiding enemies - hoping that you do alright. You never know exactly how good a friend you've been until you go through one of life's major events and your friends turn out for you. We went through this when we got married. Almost four years later, we're still completely overwhelmed by the number of people who show their support for us when we begin a new chapter of our lives.
When life throws us an unfortunate chapter, I pray that all of these people who have been there to laugh with us show up to cry with us as well. Thank God for friends and family - especially ours.
You know, you go through life - making friends and avoiding enemies - hoping that you do alright. You never know exactly how good a friend you've been until you go through one of life's major events and your friends turn out for you. We went through this when we got married. Almost four years later, we're still completely overwhelmed by the number of people who show their support for us when we begin a new chapter of our lives.
When life throws us an unfortunate chapter, I pray that all of these people who have been there to laugh with us show up to cry with us as well. Thank God for friends and family - especially ours.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Nothing important
Last night, Doug and I went to the Taste of Texas with a big group of really fun people. When I say fun people, I mean that I haven’t had sore abs in 27 weeks. I woke up this morning with sore abs from all of the laughing I did last night.
All of my friends who have recently become parents have encouraged us to go out one more time, to take one more trip, to spend just a little more time as a couple. Well, I think we did just that last night. I can’t imagine how long it will be after Daniel arrives that we can spend four hours at an eating establishment and not worry about what time it is, how long the baby’s been with the sitter, or how much we miss him.
I happen to be one of those people who doesn’t believe that you need one more night on the town or one more exotic getaway. Sure, we happened to go to Costa Rica when I was 11 weeks pregnant, but that trip was booked long before we knew I was pregnant. Besides all that, we were there with my parents. Of course I had fun last night, but my social life isn’t going to be on my radar for too much longer.
Call me crazy, but I’m really looking forward to being a family of three. I’m excited about taking Daniel to Chick-fil-a on a Friday night and watching him zig and zag through the jungle jim with ten other kids he’s never met. I can’t wait for Easter to be a chaotic event - one with stained hands and too-expensive outfits that we’ll only wear to church once. The idea of not giving a rip about what’s under the tree with my name on it, but really enjoying my son’s face light up with glee when he opens something he’s been eyeing at the toy store - that’s what I’m living for now.
Sure we had a blast last night. Sure I’ll probably miss adult interaction like that. Am I worried about it? Nah. Do I think that life is going to change in about 13 weeks? Well hell yes I do. Do I care? Hell yes - I care and I can’t wait.
All of my friends who have recently become parents have encouraged us to go out one more time, to take one more trip, to spend just a little more time as a couple. Well, I think we did just that last night. I can’t imagine how long it will be after Daniel arrives that we can spend four hours at an eating establishment and not worry about what time it is, how long the baby’s been with the sitter, or how much we miss him.
I happen to be one of those people who doesn’t believe that you need one more night on the town or one more exotic getaway. Sure, we happened to go to Costa Rica when I was 11 weeks pregnant, but that trip was booked long before we knew I was pregnant. Besides all that, we were there with my parents. Of course I had fun last night, but my social life isn’t going to be on my radar for too much longer.
Call me crazy, but I’m really looking forward to being a family of three. I’m excited about taking Daniel to Chick-fil-a on a Friday night and watching him zig and zag through the jungle jim with ten other kids he’s never met. I can’t wait for Easter to be a chaotic event - one with stained hands and too-expensive outfits that we’ll only wear to church once. The idea of not giving a rip about what’s under the tree with my name on it, but really enjoying my son’s face light up with glee when he opens something he’s been eyeing at the toy store - that’s what I’m living for now.
Sure we had a blast last night. Sure I’ll probably miss adult interaction like that. Am I worried about it? Nah. Do I think that life is going to change in about 13 weeks? Well hell yes I do. Do I care? Hell yes - I care and I can’t wait.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Nesting, neuroses, and more nesting
So yesterday was about the most ridiculous day I've had to date during this pregnancy. I went from nesting, to hysterical, to nesting again. Sheesh. I guess if it only happens once every 22 weeks, we're in good shape.
Neuroses part 1 – Immediately after breakfast, I decided that the arm chair that our pups have completely destroyed had to go. It's been ripped to shreds for months (I'd even say years) and it's been driving me crazy. Sure, it's in their room for them to shed on or sleep on or chew on or whatever – but enough was enough and it was time for the chair to go. I tried to get it out of there myself on Thursday night, but I just couldn't figure out how we got the stupid thing in the room. I was half-tempted to pull out Doug's chain saw and just cut the thing in half, but then I realized that I've never used a chain saw and 22 weeks pregnant is probably not the best time to teach yourself how to wield something that dangerous. Alas, I gave up and decided to clean something else.
After 15 or so minutes of repositioning the stupid thing every way we could think of, Doug decided that it was only coming out if we took the door off the hinges. I think he thought that would be enough to send me nesting on something else. Nope. Hinges off. Please. Now. Please. Poor Doug. That's just what he wanted to be doing on Saturday morning immediately after breakfast. Whether it was or not, that's what he did.
Neuroses part 2 – Our mailbox came unloosed from part of the post a few weeks back during a storm. It was still functional, just not pretty. Poor Doug. Again. It was such a pretty day; I insisted that we work outside. I trimmed the hedges, which again, had to be done immediately after breakfast – no questions, please. Doug ripped the old post out of the ground to discover that we were going to have to set the new post in concrete. Off he went to the local hardware store to pick up a bag of quickrete. Enter hysteria.
Hysteria – Dan's Country Hardware is just a hair over a minute from the house. In my head, that indicated that Doug should be gone no longer than 10 minutes, 15 if there were a lot of our neighbors out buying quickrete. He left; I finished bagging my hedge clippings, and moved around to the backyard for doggie duty. Or is that doggie doody? You get the point. I finished de-dootying the backyard and went inside. Hmmm. Doug had now been gone for about 30 minutes. Slightly worried, but not hysterical yet. I called him, but of course, his phone rang in our bedroom. I went outside to occupy myself further and low and behold, my ears are filled with the sounds of sirens. Many sirens. Less than one minute from the house. Hmmm. Worried, not hysterical, but beginning to pray. I tried to convince myself that Dan's didn't have any quickrete and Doug had just gone to Home Depot. I tried really hard to convince myself of that, but when he had been gone 56 minutes, I really started to panic. I was splitting my time staring at the clock and staring at the front door. At one hour, I was planning to get in my car and go look for him. At 57 minutes, he pulled in the driveway. I ran out to meet him, by this time, completely inconsolably hysterical. Poor Doug. He thought someone had died. I couldn't really explain to him why I was so upset, but I couldn't calm down either. I half crawled in the truck with him, crying my eyes out and telling him how much I loved him. Poor guy. So far, he's had a pretty rational pregnant wife. Saturday? Not so much.
Neuroses part 3 – I spent yesterday evening cleaning out the top of my closet. My mom and dad (Daniel's Gram and Gramps) came over and bought us a glider for Daniel's room. While we were at Babies R Us, I bought Daniel his first pair of board shorts, his first Hawaiian shirt, and his first box of diapers. Well my God. This stuff had to have a place to be until we start working on his room! So there I was, 10:00 last night, standing on a kitchen chair in the middle of my closet. . . throwing out old bathing suits that wore out their welcome years ago, rearranging luggage, and dragging down old paperwork to file. Poor Doug. He just wanted to have a nice, leisurely weekend. Too bad my hormones took over and made that absolutely impossible. Maybe next weekend will be more sane.
Neuroses part 1 – Immediately after breakfast, I decided that the arm chair that our pups have completely destroyed had to go. It's been ripped to shreds for months (I'd even say years) and it's been driving me crazy. Sure, it's in their room for them to shed on or sleep on or chew on or whatever – but enough was enough and it was time for the chair to go. I tried to get it out of there myself on Thursday night, but I just couldn't figure out how we got the stupid thing in the room. I was half-tempted to pull out Doug's chain saw and just cut the thing in half, but then I realized that I've never used a chain saw and 22 weeks pregnant is probably not the best time to teach yourself how to wield something that dangerous. Alas, I gave up and decided to clean something else.
After 15 or so minutes of repositioning the stupid thing every way we could think of, Doug decided that it was only coming out if we took the door off the hinges. I think he thought that would be enough to send me nesting on something else. Nope. Hinges off. Please. Now. Please. Poor Doug. That's just what he wanted to be doing on Saturday morning immediately after breakfast. Whether it was or not, that's what he did.
Neuroses part 2 – Our mailbox came unloosed from part of the post a few weeks back during a storm. It was still functional, just not pretty. Poor Doug. Again. It was such a pretty day; I insisted that we work outside. I trimmed the hedges, which again, had to be done immediately after breakfast – no questions, please. Doug ripped the old post out of the ground to discover that we were going to have to set the new post in concrete. Off he went to the local hardware store to pick up a bag of quickrete. Enter hysteria.
Hysteria – Dan's Country Hardware is just a hair over a minute from the house. In my head, that indicated that Doug should be gone no longer than 10 minutes, 15 if there were a lot of our neighbors out buying quickrete. He left; I finished bagging my hedge clippings, and moved around to the backyard for doggie duty. Or is that doggie doody? You get the point. I finished de-dootying the backyard and went inside. Hmmm. Doug had now been gone for about 30 minutes. Slightly worried, but not hysterical yet. I called him, but of course, his phone rang in our bedroom. I went outside to occupy myself further and low and behold, my ears are filled with the sounds of sirens. Many sirens. Less than one minute from the house. Hmmm. Worried, not hysterical, but beginning to pray. I tried to convince myself that Dan's didn't have any quickrete and Doug had just gone to Home Depot. I tried really hard to convince myself of that, but when he had been gone 56 minutes, I really started to panic. I was splitting my time staring at the clock and staring at the front door. At one hour, I was planning to get in my car and go look for him. At 57 minutes, he pulled in the driveway. I ran out to meet him, by this time, completely inconsolably hysterical. Poor Doug. He thought someone had died. I couldn't really explain to him why I was so upset, but I couldn't calm down either. I half crawled in the truck with him, crying my eyes out and telling him how much I loved him. Poor guy. So far, he's had a pretty rational pregnant wife. Saturday? Not so much.
Neuroses part 3 – I spent yesterday evening cleaning out the top of my closet. My mom and dad (Daniel's Gram and Gramps) came over and bought us a glider for Daniel's room. While we were at Babies R Us, I bought Daniel his first pair of board shorts, his first Hawaiian shirt, and his first box of diapers. Well my God. This stuff had to have a place to be until we start working on his room! So there I was, 10:00 last night, standing on a kitchen chair in the middle of my closet. . . throwing out old bathing suits that wore out their welcome years ago, rearranging luggage, and dragging down old paperwork to file. Poor Doug. He just wanted to have a nice, leisurely weekend. Too bad my hormones took over and made that absolutely impossible. Maybe next weekend will be more sane.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Fur baby madness
The last two days have been an exercise in. . . well, lots of things. Patience, for one. Preparation for motherhood is on the list, too. If you can think of other good descriptors, bring it on. . .
Maddie - she's our blue heeler - decided to pick up some sort of nasty bacteria sometime on Tuesday. I spent the better part of the part of the night usually designated for sleeping cleaning up, well, Maddie poo. She evidently had "dietary indiscretion," which translates into $180 at the vet and a lot of antibiotics. I've been spoon feeding her prescription dog food for the last couple of days with a shot of vanilla yogurt on the side to get this bacteria situation under control. Just as things were looking up for Maddie, things started looking grim for Dasha.
Dasha - she's our brindle baby - also had dietary indiscretion. Dasha chose to ingest Dusty Miller, a type of ground cover plant. Again, the time most people spent in their beds last night, I was cleaning up copious amounts of vomit. Around 3:30 in the morning, Dasha woke me up with a surprise. Thanks, babe. By the time I got everything cleaned up and was ready to crawl back into bed, she got sick again. This is where the story gets good.
I discovered that Dasha had eaten the Dusty Miller when I scrubbed regurgitated leaves off of our bedroom floor. I hopped online to find out whether they were poisonous – the first site I came across at 4:00 am had them listed as "slightly poisonous." Uh huh. After a hurried trip to the emergency vet, an additional $180, and a lot of blood, Doug determined that the Dusty Miller is a member of the Wormwood plant family. Ever heard of that? That's where we get Absinthe. Ever heard of that? That's what Van Gogh was blasted on when he decided it was a good idea to have one ear rather than two. Needless to say, Dasha was distraught. Mommy was distraught. The bank account is distraught.
So, what's the moral of the story? Don't let your dogs eat anything other than their dog food, or you'll have a very expensive, very sleepless couple of days.
Maddie - she's our blue heeler - decided to pick up some sort of nasty bacteria sometime on Tuesday. I spent the better part of the part of the night usually designated for sleeping cleaning up, well, Maddie poo. She evidently had "dietary indiscretion," which translates into $180 at the vet and a lot of antibiotics. I've been spoon feeding her prescription dog food for the last couple of days with a shot of vanilla yogurt on the side to get this bacteria situation under control. Just as things were looking up for Maddie, things started looking grim for Dasha.
Dasha - she's our brindle baby - also had dietary indiscretion. Dasha chose to ingest Dusty Miller, a type of ground cover plant. Again, the time most people spent in their beds last night, I was cleaning up copious amounts of vomit. Around 3:30 in the morning, Dasha woke me up with a surprise. Thanks, babe. By the time I got everything cleaned up and was ready to crawl back into bed, she got sick again. This is where the story gets good.
I discovered that Dasha had eaten the Dusty Miller when I scrubbed regurgitated leaves off of our bedroom floor. I hopped online to find out whether they were poisonous – the first site I came across at 4:00 am had them listed as "slightly poisonous." Uh huh. After a hurried trip to the emergency vet, an additional $180, and a lot of blood, Doug determined that the Dusty Miller is a member of the Wormwood plant family. Ever heard of that? That's where we get Absinthe. Ever heard of that? That's what Van Gogh was blasted on when he decided it was a good idea to have one ear rather than two. Needless to say, Dasha was distraught. Mommy was distraught. The bank account is distraught.
So, what's the moral of the story? Don't let your dogs eat anything other than their dog food, or you'll have a very expensive, very sleepless couple of days.
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