The Update on Jared

Yesterday Jared had an X-ray and checkup with his oncologist, Celebrity Dr. Nichols, and his tests came back clean. Phew! (Jared doesn't even worry about this stuff. It's only me who waits to hear after each appointment).

As for his general health, he's doing really well. He's back at work full time (he has been for some time, but we get asked this a lot). He has hair. It came back in ashen-blonde and curly, as predicted. Here's pics of the blond-ish version of Jared.

The blonde was pretty hot, while it lasted, which wasn't long (I don't mean, of course, that it was hotTER than his normal self, just... you know... hot in a "it's different" kind of way). He's more or less back his normal self now - straight, dark brown hair. In fact, he's been on a quest to grow as much hair as possible it seems, and thus the full beard of late.

So life is happy. We're good. We're gettin' on with things. Until Sunday, life was deliciously boring for a while. I guess you only get so long of a break. :) Now that Seville is a bona-fide toddler, I'm sure we're in for a ride.

Emergency x 2

As if Sunday wasn't enough adventure for us, we just got back from the Emergency Room for yet another accident. Seville fell and cut her wrist open pretty badly this evening, so we had to go get her stitched up. She spent most of her time in the hospital entertaining the staff - a 15 month old and a "waiting room" seriously do not mix well, especially for the lengths of wait-time required in an emergency room visit. So we got to know all the nurses, where the stickers were, how all the toys worked, which hallways led to where, etc.

Though she was, by all accounts, an amazingly calm and tolerant baby for most stuff, the "procedure" was nevertheless one of the most horrid things I've ever had to do - holding her still like that while they stitched her arm. I really don't want to say more about it, because I hate thinking about it. But, once again, she's fine now. She has a new "bracelet" (which you can see in the hospital pic here) and just wanted to go outside in the rain and "smell" (a.k.a. blow through her nose near) all the flowers ("fla") on our street when she got home.

It's a good thing she doesn't really know to be afraid, because she's basically fine after both Sunday and today. I, on the other hand, constantly feel like I want to throw up. Does this get easier with subsequent children/accidents?

70 Degrees and Sunny

This almost never happens at the Oregon Coast, it seems. But last weekend, the unusual weather happened to coincide with a patent law conference at Salishan Resort, which Jared had decided to sign up for and bring us all along along. I couldn't believe our luck.

Seville had never been the the ocean before (what were we DOING last summer?!... oh wait... I remember now), and she had the time of her life. She spent the whole first day just playing with sand about 4 steps onto the beach. We didn't even reach the part about "see the waves?" until day two. I figured there was no need to rush the wealth of discoveries there.

The Scariest Moment of My Life

I thought learning Jared had cancer was bad, but as I described before, it lacks the drama that people associate with such an event. The news comes in slow, measured pieces, from careful professionals who are telling you there is a monster inside you but you can't see it. So though it is scary, it's slow-deep-scary, and not the kind of thing that sends you into hysterics.

Today's events, on the other hand, packed a punch with drama and sudden-now-freak-out-scary that left me breathless, shaky, hardly able to talk, and nauseous - complete with firetruck and ambulance outside our house.

After returning from a weekend at the beach, Seville was rather vigorously playing on the couch this afternoon. She plays on the couch frequently, and usually knows how to handle herself. But today she bounced and fell off in a way that sent her careening toward the floor, swinging like a pendulum and leading with her head. I didn't see it, but the sound of the bonk sounded like furniture on furniture and I hoped to God that's what it was. When I saw Jared running over there I knew that it wasn't.

I cringed. I got ready for The Big Cry (you know how the longer they wind-up, the bigger the cry?). I was thinking, "uh, oh, this is a long windup, it's gonna be a big one." And then I was thinking, "man, this is gonna be the biggest one ever," and then I was thinking, "why isn't she crying yet, can she wind up that long?" And then I started to panic as I ran over to see what was going on. She had indeed been winding up to cry, but as I arrived, her back was arched and her eyes rolled back in her head, her body went limp (or stiff, I'm not sure which because I wasn't holding her) and then she just stopped and lay there on the couch unconscious.

At this point, of course, I screamed and ran to grab the phone. Jared thought she might have done something to her spine or neck. I thought she might have internal head injuries or something. She looked to me as if she was having a siezure, but I couldn't tell. I frantically stuttered out to the 911 person what was going on, gave her my address, tried to keep calm and answer some questions, and by the time she asked me if Seville was breathing, she was. And then she started to cry weakly. And then the cry got harder (I never thought I'd be so relieved to hear her cry so hard).

911 stayed on the phone with us until the medics arrived (which wasn't long. The fire-station is about 1/2 mile away). They checked her out and she seemed rattled but fine. They decided we didn't need the ambulance because we could take her to hospital ourselves, or we could observe her for a while and decide what to do as the afternoon went on. As the nervous mother, of course, I was all getting ready to go to the E.R., but when the neighbor came over to check on us, Seville followed him out and back to his house, played with his daughter, seemed in perfectly good spirits and normal. It seemed cruel to subject her to blood tests and X-rays and what-have-you on what was already a rough day if it wasn't necessary. I decided to take the "observe" route. I learned from my Dad that he frequently passed out and had mild seizures from trauma as a youth because he had low blood pressure. By evening she was jumping around and playing, the story started to sound like no big deal and I was starting to question the efficacy of spending 4 hours in the E.R. for a doctor to say, "well, she looks ok, just keep an eye on her for a while in case she acts unusual."

Last night in the hotel we watched the last half of that movie "Pay it Forward," in which a child dies. I spent the night trying not to wonder how I would possibly cope if I ever lost Seville. It doesn't seem possible. I never understood before I was a mother how frighteningly horrific that would be. And though I haven't been able to say the words today, and it's even hard to type the words here, I thought, for a few moments, that I was losing Seville this afternoon. She was lying limp with her eyes open. Jared, blessedly, had the inspiration to tell me over and over that he could feel her heart beating. It was the most horrifying, scary, awful moment of my life. Just awful. It's weird that you can have a moment where you think your worst fears are coming true, and then have everything just return to normal. Can I really return to normal? Here we are. It's 9:30pm. Seville is in bed. I'm on my computer. Jared is doing whatever Jared does. We're acting normal. But I can't stop saying in my head, over and over, "Thank you, God... thank you, God... thank you, God..."

10 lbs!

Pregnancy makes you fat. That's the truth of the matter, and all the stick-like actresses with pillows in their shirts for their pregnant roles cannot undo this reality (though they can wreak havoc on the self-image of thousands of real, actual, pregnant women). And when you're done with pregnancy, you think you're going to be able to wear those size 6 red pleather jeans within a few months (think again!) and can't bring yourself to buy clothing in sizes constantly pushing the boundary between The Gap and Lane Bryant. Anyway, unlike so many twenty-something moms who claim that breastfeeding "just melts those pounds right off!"(I want to flick those girls' tiny butts through their skinny jeans), my pounds have been hanging on for dear life for some time now. Since Seville has had verious food, weight, and nutrition issues, and my breastmilk supply has been inconsistent at best (too much information for some of you, I know. Sorry.), I was always advised not to diet and to "listen to my body" (which is generally saying, "chocolate... I need more chocolate").

But there comes a time in a woman's life when your own health is at least as important as the health of your child. For me this moment was when Seville turned one. So for the past couple months, I've been attempting to get closer to my formerly hot self. Though I can't see much difference yet when I look in the mirror, I did finally accomplish the 10 lb mark last week (Thank you! Thank you very much!). Here is my Weight Watcher's weight chart for all to see so that I can, a) brag; and b) make sure I feel accountable and keep going. It's bound to be a long road, but if there are skinny jeans at the end of it, I'm stickin' it out.

(Can I just say as a post script, that I realize more than ever that everyone's body is different, and just because I am having success losing weight doesn't mean I think everyone can or should at this point in childbearing. I have so much sympathy for moms who gain and don't lose later. It's incredibly hard, and we should all give our sisters a break.)