A Small Town in an Untamed Land

I got a call this morning from the UPS man in my in-laws' town in Mississippi. He didn't recognize the address on our Mother's Day gift to Steve's mom because the in-laws live on an unnamed dirt road "outside of town." Another funny thing about the call was that he seemed to know the last name, but was shocked that people with that last name lived "out there" and he didn't know about them. (My in-laws keep a low profile. My mother-in-law doesn't like people knowing her business.)

So I had to give him some directions.

Now, their corner of Mississippi, is, in my Yankee eyes, an untamed land. Example: Several years back, Steve and I spent an afternoon creeping around an abandoned mobile home that had belonged to his grandma's late cousin, Amy Katherine. Someone had clearly been squatting in the trailer after Amy Katherine's passing, as it was strewn with Rolling Rock ponies. And Amy Katherine was not the type. Also, the TV was gone, but most of her other belongings were tossed around the trailer. We found her address book -- it contained three addresses: her sister's, her son's, and her own. In the forest behind the trailer was ... the trailer she'd lived in before this one (completely collapsed) and several broken appliances. Behind the older trailer was ... a giant pile of bricks that was the house she'd grown up in. And in front of the newer trailer sat two broken down cars, one of which was full of garbage.

This was perhaps three years after Amy Katherine's demise. And now, about five years later, ALL of it has been overgrown by the forest, completely. You can't even tell that anyone ever lived there.

It's a wild, wild place.

So my directions went something like this:

"If you drive out of town past the Sugar Creek Quick Stop, you know that cell tower on the left?" He did. "Take a left just before the cell tower, and then drive down the dirt road for a mile or two. Pass the beaver dam on your right, and at the fork in the road, it's the white house with the red brick porch. It will probably have a lot of cats and a little black and white dog running around out front."

The best part was that from that description, he knew exactly the place I was talking about.

A Run-In in the Hospital Garage

One of the things I hate about the DC area is the apparently excessive number of people who have an entitlement complex. As in, I'm better than you, so I deserve X.

I had a run-in with a couple of these people back in February in the Inova Fairfax blue garage, and I've only recently calmed down enough about it to write the story.

The Inova Fairfax blue garage is a complete disaster, with dozens of spaces reserved for visiting doctors, physical therapy patients, cancer patients, radiology patients, etc. On a busy day, there's a lot of jockeying for the few remaining unmarked spaces. One cold day in February, I was headed in to the hospital to visit Lexie in the NICU when the line of cars in the garage came to a complete stop. Far ahead, I saw a giant black SUV backing down the ramp from the roof. I sat and waited. Normally this kind of thing might have annoyed me, but I was too tired and worried to expend any energy on being annoyed at that point. I waited, and waited, and waited, more than five minutes, and the line didn't move.

The black SUV still sat at the bottom of the ramp ahead of us, blocking everyone's forward escape from our row. Cars had pulled in behind me in line, so I couldn't back up, either. Finally, I started to notice a few people coming out of the elevator bay and getting in their cars, and I figured this would unclog the bottleneck. The first two cars left, and the two cars in front of me took the spaces. Now only one car remained in front of me. And what do you know -- a space just in front of that car opened up. I waited patiently for the car in front of me to take the space, but it just sat there. After a minute or so, I figured, hey, I guess I'm next. I drove around that car and pulled into the space.

Suddenly I heard someone leaning on the horn. And I mean leaning. I decided to ignore it as I pulled together my bag and my cooler of milk for Lexie. As I was walking away from my car, Mr. Black SUV pulls up and yells, "THANKS FOR STEALING OUR SPACE." I continued to ignore him. "I JUST DROPPED OFF MY PREGNANT WIFE!" Oooooh, wrong thing to say to me.

"OH YEAH?" I yelled back. "WELL I'M GOING TO VISIT MY PREEMIE IN THE NICU." He sped off like the witless coward he was. He probably gave me the finger or something, but I didn't look back. I was a little thrown -- it had been a long while since I'd had to fight with someone like that, but I tried to calm down and headed into the elevator bay.

Standing inside the door was a young-ish pregnant woman. She looked expensive. She watched me walk by, probably saw that I looked exhausted and frazzled -- like a weak, easy target -- and she made a big mistake.

"Thanks for stealing our space," she tossed at my back, maneuvering to show off her pregnant belly as I turned my head.

I stopped.

I turned around.

I engaged.

"I had no idea it was 'your' space. I'd been waiting forever without moving and a space finally opened up. I had just as much right to that space as you did." My voice rose and she began to shrink away, muttering a few "never minds" -- ha, too late, idiot. "And this is a hospital. We've ALL got problems. I'M GOING IN RIGHT NOW TO VISIT MY PREEMIE. I HOPE *YOUR* PREGNANCY IS A SUCCESSFUL ONE."

I spun on my heel and strode into the hospital. It really pissed me off that she thought a pregnant woman at the hospital should get special treatment over all the people there who may be DYING on any given day.

I do hope she felt sorely ashamed of herself, at least for a moment, before she went back to her rich little bubble of a life with her jerk of a husband.

Gratuitous Lexie Photos

These are probably long overdue. Plus, I remain too tired to pull together the ideas swirling around in my head.

Lexie likes her paci when she gets stressed out. It's no joke:


She's kind of an escape artist. She likes the swaddle, but that doesn't stop her from trying to bust out:


Here she was on one of those hot April days, in her first summer outfit:

Denizens of the Night

The other night, I was getting a bottle out of the fridge around 4 a.m. when I noticed a car parked haphazardly across the street, engine running, lights on, driver's door open. And then I saw a middle-aged woman in dumpy clothes running toward our house. Full speed. With what looked like alarm on her face.

My heart started racing. Why was this woman running toward me? Did she see me in the kitchen with the light on? Does she need my help? Is she being chased by someone dangerous?

Holy shit! She was running up our sidewalk. Should I yell for Steve? Oh my god!

Then I heard a smack on the porch and saw her run back down the sidewalk, jump into her car, and speed away.

I stood frozen in the kitchen, Lexie in my arms, heart pounding. Finally I made a decision. I threw open the front door.

And I saw it -- sitting right at my doorstep:

The Washington Post.

Packing Up the Maternity Clothes

One day this past week, Lexie decided to nap for more than 30 minutes, for a change. I took the opportunity (after hurriedly going to the bathroom, brushing my teeth and washing my face) to pack up most of my maternity clothes. It was a little bit sad -- I never had a chance to wear the majority of the garments, so the whole process just reminded me of my jacked-up pregnancy and Lexie's resulting premature birth.

Pregnancy did not go the way I expected, at all. I knew the risks of my condition, but the statement of risks was always accompanied by something to the effect of "but most women with unicornuate uteruses don't know they have them until they have a full-term C-section, and there are probably tons of women who never find out, blah blah blah. So you could go full term!" I was cautiously optimistic, and never expected that I might have such a close brush with worst-case scenarios.

At this point, I don't see myself ever needing the maternity clothes again. My body really isn't made to carry babies, and I can't imagine going through bedrest with a child already at home. If we have an unlikely "accident," we'll play those cards as they're dealt. But that's the decision for now.

In baby news, Lexie recently passed the three-month mark, although she's more similar to a one-month old in her development and abilities. She's gaining weight and seems to be learning every day. She's not doing so well in the sleep department because she's been having stomach issues that wake her up pretty regularly. We started her on a new formula today and are reeeeeally hoping it clears up the problem. I'm dreaming of getting more than three interrupted hours of sleep a night. If only. I never knew I'd be able to go this long on such an extended sleep deficit. I've heard that sleep deprivation is cumulative. I'm easily 250+ hours in the hole in the six weeks since Lexie came home.

It's hard to be profound on so little sleep. So here's a gratuitous shot of Lexie in her Easter hat.

March 20 and March 27

Lexie's due date, March 20, passed without fanfare 11 days ago. In a lot of ways she's acting like a newborn, but in a few ways she's a little ahead of newborn skills. She's almost able to hold her head up consistently now, and she tries to hold her own bottle too. I know it will be a long road, but hopefully by age 2 she'll be caught up for her actual age, versus her gestational age (11 days today). Below, a shot of Lexie around her due date. (Note busted swaddle. Don't worry -- we were keeping an eye on her. We're not leaving any loose bedding in the crib or anything like that.)


On March 27, Steve and I went out to dinner for our 5th anniversary. My mom babysat. She was trying to get us to go to a movie as well, but I figured we'd just fall asleep if we sat down in the dark, so we kept it down to just dinner. As we drove down the street away from the house, I wondered if it would be bad form if I napped in the car en route to the restaurant, an Asian fusion place in Old Town Alexandria. I managed to stay awake for the ride, but it wasn't easy.

We had a nice meal, and actually managed to talk about a few things other than the baby. Steve had some hot sake, but I passed on the booze, since I'm still pumping and not making enough to feel right "pumping and dumping," even just this one time. Not to mention the fact that any alcohol at all would likely have put me under the table -- I haven't had a drop since July.

It's been a long time since I went out to dinner. So long, in fact, that as I finished a breadstick I came appallingly close to tossing the last bite onto the floor for my dog. Who obviously would not have been at the restaurant. Luckily I caught myself at the last minute.

That night, Steve and my mom gave me the ultimate gift -- a full night's sleep. I felt like a new woman! And I'm looking forward to the day some months in the future when that becomes the norm once again.

Two Weeks Home

Alexandra has been home with us now for two weeks, which marks the first two weeks since November that no member of our family has been in residence at the hospital. I still think of the families there and all the babies in the NICU. This whole experience has brought me countless new perspectives, even just walking around the hospital.

Whenever I'd see women in their hospital gowns being wheeled into the NICU to see their premature babies for the first time, I'd think, "that was me."

Up on the 6th floor, where Lexie lived for two weeks just down the hall from my old room, I'd see glimpses of the women on bedrest and think, "that was me."

When I'd see tired, worried-looking men getting off the elevator with takeout dinner for their hospitalized wives, I'd think, "that was Steve."

When we were finally checking out of the NICU, I saw other mothers watching me and I knew what they were thinking, because that had been me, every day until it was our turn.

My mom is visiting this week, helping us get some extra sleep. Lexie is doing well here at home, although she hasn't quite taken to her bassinet the way she did her NICU crib. She's a great sleeper now as long as someone is holding her. We're trying to get her used to the bassinet, little by little.

It hasn't been an easy road to parenthood, so I'm wired to expect adversity. Because preemies are more likely to die of SIDS, I'm completely paranoid. This probably contributes to my wanting to hold her as much as possible. (Then I can make sure she's still breathing.) I know I'll have to chill out, especially when Steve goes back to work and I'm on my own here at home, but for now this makes me feel better.

Here's Lexie hanging out in her bouncy seat. She's not too sure about it.

Here's a shot of her fluffy hair, post bath, while she chews on my sweatshirt.