October visit

I just found this in my drafts. I went to the trouble of putting together the photos, but never got around to writing the post. So here it is, a photo dump from when Tim Sr, Carolyn, Karen, and Matt came for a long weekend in October. We had a wonderful time, and look forward to seeing them soon when we head up north for Christmas.

I include this one for no other reason than I love our yard in fall.

Thomas: 6 Months

I'm so behind on this post. Busy time of year!

Half a year already gone, how is this possible? Thomas just keeps delighting us with his funny little personality as he grows, and has been keeping us on our toes more than ever with his newfound abilities and curiosity.

He's crawling with purpose now, and usually that purpose is to get to something he's not supposed to have, like curtains or the dog's bowl. He stops, turns around, and grins at me before going toward the dog bowls--little stinker. He's a sturdy sitter now and likes to kneel too, but he's a little less sturdy there. He pulls up to kneeling and/or standing on furniture, and he's had a few bumps and bruises to show for it. I said to Tim just this morning, "We really don't need a coffee table in the living room, do we?" I know four other kids survived it, but that doesn't make it any less nerve-wracking. (But seriously, can we maybe just put it away for a month or two?)

I broke down and bought this Backjack chair last month, and I've found it very useful, but since then I've been hearing some comments about America's problem with consumerism and overspending that I suspect are aimed at me. I stand by the purchase of this overpriced chair--it is very useful to us, and I would have never found it used. It allows me to sit on the floor with Thomas comfortably; and allows whatever child is perching there at other times of the day -- it's a popular spot! -- to not have to prop up pillows that they will NOT pick up when they're done. Growing up, we always had a Backjack chair or two in the living room, and we loved them.

There hasn't been any overall improvement in his nighttime sleep; at this point I should probably stop bringing it up until there is. He's now in a pack 'n play in the corner -- no more bassinet. He spends the first couple (if we're lucky a few) hours in his own bed, and then the rest of the night with us. He's mostly settled into a daytime routine that includes three naps of varying lengths. The morning nap tends to be the longest, which, after his nighttime antics, is no wonder.

He hasn't had any solid food yet, other than some sweet potatoes on Thanksgiving; but he wasn't too interested.

He tolerates his car seat and stroller much better now, but we've learned the hard way a couple times not to take him on any unnecessary car trips after it gets dark. He'll cry his fool head off the whole way there and back.

He is so much fun. He laughs at us all the time and tries to grab our face and kiss us--or maybe eat us, we're not entirely sure. He's stolen our hearts for sure, and I thank God for him every day.

Troops of Saint George Camping Trip

 From Tim:

Another Troops of Saint George camping trip in the books. This was definitely one the boys will be talking about for years to come. In the days leading up, Joey was constantly asking about what we would do, when we would leave, etc., but Timmy was a little lukewarm to the idea.

For days the forecast looked like an almost perfect fall weekend, and we all got a little more excited. I'd say I'm more of a "glamper" after retiring from the Marine Corps, so comfort is my first priority. Days of preparation ensured we would be well fed and have (almost) everything we would need or want. As Friday got closer the weather forecast was changing drastically, but it still looked like it would be great from Friday night on. I left work Friday afternoon and headed home in a steady drizzle mixed with light rain. We stayed committed even as the clouds showed no sign of letting up. At last we made the call to load up the truck and head out.

The sun was setting fast and the rain was easing just a bit. I hoped that the forecast was accurate, as it showed the rain clearing up. When we arrived, however, it was still raining, but fortunately only lightly, and the temperature was in the 60s. Timmy and I struggled in the dark to get the tent set up (I should have listened to my inner voice telling me to set it up before leaving), not realizing it had been stuffed back into its sack inside out. This was hard to see, as Joey was busy pointing the light everywhere but where we needed it.🤣 There might have been an off-color comment about light discipline and the Marines, and how the enemy would have definitely had its way with us. But Timmy and I pressed on, finally got the tent up, and filled it with our packs and whatever else we needed to get through the night. Timmy was a huge help and maintained a great attitude.

We settled in just in time to hear rain bouncing off the rain tarp at a much steadier pace. What ensued was probably the longest night ever. I realized at some point that the bottom 18 inches of my sleeping bag was drenched. This forced me to have to sleep with my knees bent, but I still managed to squeeze in some z's between rain-soaked trips outside to pee. At about 6 or so, Timmy woke me to ask when it would be morning, and when I asked why, he said he was soaked. I took a gander and feel, and discovered that the boy had spent the majority of the night sleeping in a puddle. He was soaked head to toe, along with his pillow and sleeping bag. I felt terrible, but truthfully, he only wanted to change his clothes, and was still in good spirits.

I got us all up and into dry clothes, and we hunkered down inside the truck as the rain continued. I spent some time with another dad who had also braved the night and was trying to decide how to proceed with the day. We had a lot of events on tap and, still unsure of how the weather would play out, we didn't want to bail just yet on the day. In the end we said, "Let's do this" for as long as we can. Fire was the first priority.

Assisted with some dry firewood and a fire starter, we got a good fire going. A shelter went up, shielding us from what would be the last two hours of rain for the day. We built our camp up and the boys grabbed their rods and headed down to the river. The fish were biting, the boys were excited, and all had a turn pulling a variety of fish out.

Lunch was next, which included some hot dogs over the fire and baked beans. After a couple snacks we made our mile trek to the "range" where the boys would get their first real marksmanship training. Rounds went down range, and each boy did well getting on target. A quick police call (clean up) and a mile return hike followed, and then it was time to start preparing for Mass.

We were very pleased to have a local priest, Father Vic, come hear confession and celebrate Mass at the campsite. Most of the dads and boys got a chance to go to confession, but imagine my surprise when I looked over and saw Joey sitting across from Father Vic. It warmed my heart and made me chuckle. I don't believe he knew why everyone was lining up and sitting down  with the priest, but he was not about to miss his turn. Families were invited, and it was nice to see Rachael roll up with the other kids. Following our intimate Mass we said see you later to the families, and the boys and I headed back to camp to pack up and help with dinner.

Timmy said to me as we were leaving, "That dinner more than made up for sleeping in a puddle!" One of the dads had brought, prepared, and served a good ol' lowcountry boil with fresh local shrimp. It was amazing!! Boys and dads alike gobbled it up. We did our part cleaning up, and I gave the boys a 15-minute warning we'd be heading out.

On the ride home I told the boys I was proud of their attitudes and company, and that there was no one else I'd want to share that misery with. They excitedly retold the stories from the longest 24 hours they've had to date--amazing how in the retelling, the rain got heavier, the fish got bigger, and the bullseyes kept multiplying. It was a crazy day, but one we will never forget.

Thomas: 5 Months

The days are getting away from me. He's five months old, and more scrumptious than ever.

This last month has been great, but as with the month before, the quality of nighttime sleep we're getting leaves a lot to be desired. His little body is busy 24 hours a day, and periods of sound sleep don't seem to last very long for him, maybe a couple hours at most. It is so nice to have all the space of our new king-size bed, but as Tim can tell you, a baby can still manage to take up more than his share. I am oblivious in my sleeping or semi-sleeping state, one arm wrapped protectively either around his waist or under his arms. He still goes to bed around 8 and then lasts maybe two to four (if we're lucky) hours in his bassinet. He takes around three or four naps a day, the first of which happens about an hour or two after he wakes up. 

He's getting more mobile; if he sees something he wants he can scoot after it on his belly. He likes the blinds on the french doors in our bedroom, and I had to relocate the big plant in a basket I had by the full-length mirror because he was like a moth to a flame with that. 

He's wearing size 3 diapers now, and both 3-6 and 6-9 clothes. 

He's not minding his car seat so much anymore, although he does get cranky if I'm taking him out and putting him in too many times a day. I guess I can't blame him for that!

He is always playing with his tongue, sticking it out, chewing on it, and who knows what. You can see it in the next picture. 

He is also a Mr. Grabbyhands, and his grip is strong. I was humming to him one night as I was trying to get him to bed, and suddenly that hand with its sharp little nails fastened onto my lower lip. He likes to grab handfuls of my cheeks and hair too, and sometimes that can be followed with an I'm gonna eat you mama mouth on my cheek or shoulder. He's so funny.

I keep an eye on him and Willow together, but she is very tolerant of him. Delaney has been helping foster that tolerance with her for awhile, holding her while he touches her paws (she's never been a huge fan of her paws being handled), and then praising her and giving her lots of pets. I do pretty much the same thing when they're on the floor together, so she's accustomed to getting lots of positive attention when he's around. 

It's amazing how much happiness one demanding little person can give us. 😄

At last, a pool of my own

 A longtime dream of mine came true this summer. Our backyard now boasts a pool! 

It was a real saga, getting from the point of first moving into this house (June 2020) to where we are today. My advice for anyone who wants a pool is this: move to a house that already has one. 

If it wasn't already difficult enough shopping for a pool in post-Covid days, we had another complicating factor: a septic system that, according to the diagram on the permit, took up the entire back yard. One tank at the other end of the yard and four leach lines going all the way across. We also had a big old tree on the side of the yard close to where the pool now sits. The regulation is that the water must be 15 feet from any part of the septic system. Tim and I made many phone calls and discussed the possibility of septic reduction or moving the septic to the front yard.  Those would both be very costly and disruptive endeavors that would leave our yard torn up for months, front and back.

We also talked about moving. We looked at land for sale nearby, look at building plans, and tried to visualize. I struggled at the thought of moving, when I was so comfortable and happy in this house, and we'd just had a bunch of landscaping and renovations done. It might have all served to make the house more sellable, but it also made me feel very invested and attached! I thought to myself many times that I really wished I'd made the pool, or the possibility of one, more of a priority in the house search. It felt like too petty of a thing to be assertive about, but I know in hindsight there was nothing petty about this at all.

We talked to neighbors and stalked their properties in the county records. We compared notes with the guy across the street who told us he had a "dossier" of his own. In this neighborhood you fall into one of three categories: 

1) you have a pool or one underway, and are very fortunate (maybe you had a hand in the building of the house and deciding where the septic goes, or just were able to work around it in the case of another neighbor I spoke to); 

2) you don't have one and you don't care; or 

3) you want one, but have a septic system in the way (us and the guy across the street, for example). 

We talked about a pool and gave up on it multiple times because of the obstacles we had. But just in case, we started chipping away at the obstacles. The big old tree, along with the jungle gym, disappeared, I think, the following spring after we moved in.

When we were visiting family in Massachusetts last July, as we were all frolicking in Tim's sister Kathy's pool, one of us said, "Maybe one day we'll have our own pool." I think it was Tim. Kathy said, "Can I just give you some advice? Don't wait for 'one day.' If you're gonna do it, do it now." Or something to that effect. And I couldn't even look Tim in the eye at that moment, but I'm sure the same thought passed through both our minds at the same time: Well, crap.

But you already know the end of the story. What set it in motion was really, no exaggeration here, a stroke of genius on Tim's part. The solution, along with a lot of human waste,* was already in the ground back there, but you had to know to look.

That is what occurred to Tim last July. So he asked me to make a call, and we had a guy come out from A1 Sewer and Drain to mark the septic system for us, so we would know exactly what was where. While he was there, I asked him about septic reductions, and he was Mr. Negativity. He told me that many of my neighbors have septic problems, and a system that works well is not something you want to mess with. "How many people do you have living in this house?" he asked at one point. When I told him six, he said, "Whoa, I did NOT see that coming." I guess that sounded like a lot of toilets flushing to him. He wouldn't be wrong, haha. Of course, in the end he said as long as we had a permit and money, he would do whatever we asked. I gave him the diagram from the septic permit, and I watched him walk around the yard finding all the parts. Tank, check. first leach line, check. Second, check. Third, check. Then he searched for the fourth line, the one in question, the one we were talking about reducing, and he couldn't find it. He put the probe in the ground in numerous places, and at last had to conclude that a fourth leach line did not exist. That cost us $350.

Aside from the star of this photo, you can see we have a zero gravity chair to the right. We had those for a minute, they seemed like a good idea, but we learned the hard way to never put a zero gravity chair on concrete. It bleeds rust when it gets wet. Not to mention, they were not aesthetically pleasing out there. For my next choice of loungers, I opted for something with no metal parts at all.

This changed everything. No fourth line meant all this extra space in the yard. We went out to the backyard and measured the distance between the third line and the house, and suddenly we found we had room for a pool. It felt miraculous to me.

My next call was to the Health Department the following day. I had already applied for a septic repair permit in order to have the reduction done, and now I wanted to rescind that. When I explained why, the man I was talking to looked up our property and said, "No, you've got four leach lines..." He put me on speaker so that his co-worker, who happens to live in our cul-de-sac, could be part of the conversation. I don't remember most of what he said about our neighborhood, septic, blah blah. He joked that Jason wasn't trying to sabotage us from getting a pool. (Know, reader, that having any connection in the health department did not give us an advantage, as our neighbor across the street already had found out for himself. We all had to go through proper channels.) To conclude, he said, "Ok, tell you what -- we're going to be at Jason's tomorrow at 11 for his inspection.** We'll go to your house afterward and take a look."

At the appointed time he arrived with an assistant, and they both set about doing the same thing the guy from A1 Sewer had already done, throwing the probe into the ground and finding the leach lines one by one. I waited with bated breath as they tried to find the fourth in the area indicated by the diagram. And then! And then, what do you know, they walked all the way to the back of the yard, to the property line just about, threw the probe in the ground and found the fourth line. We now knew that we do indeed have four leach lines, and we still had all the space we had measured out for a pool. Nothing needed to be moved, nothing needed to be modified. This cost us $0.

By the end of that month, we had sat down with a pool builder, signed a contract, and finally had a pool in the works. I was like a deer in headlights when it came to choosing the shape and color, and whatever else. It didn't feel real, and if you think I had been preparing ahead and looking at my options, you don't know me well. I just wanted a pool! I looked at the catalog of fiberglass pools she gave us, and I narrowed my choices down to the ones that fit in the space we had, looked at the renderings she sent us, and finally just circled one. It's nothing fancy, just a pool with concrete around it. We were restricted to 14x30, which is small as far as pools go, but it suits us well. It's kind of meant for lazing around--it has a decent amount of seating in it--but contains enough swim space for the kids to play in.

In February we had our official Health Department inspection, and that was followed soon after by the installation of the pool. It felt super climactic watching it arrive on a flatbed truck, and seeing it lowered by crane by the light of the moon. But then it just sat there for months like that with the company doing a few hours of work maybe once every few weeks or months. That was maddening. The scheduled completion date in May came and went. At one point Tim received a text telling him that the whole thing was going to be wrapped up in the next 10 days, early May! And then no one showed up, I kid you not. I had a *little something* to distract me that month, so I wasn't as upset as I might have been, but I did notice and I was pretty annoyed.

At last, at the end of June, some guys showed up, put in about a week's straight worth of work, and got it all finished. We swam for the first time on July 1. Thomas was six weeks old. I spent most of those first couple weeks watching jealously from my bedroom window as the rest of the family swam. What I couldn't do much of while tending to a newborn was jump in the pool. 

At the same time, as I watched them out the window, I could be glad that they had something to occupy them that was out in the fresh air and sunshine during the long hot days. It was truly a godsend to have it in time for this summer. We weren't going many places at all while we were in town because I was always feeding a baby or trying to get him to take a nap, but we had this right outside our back door.

The novelty has mostly worn off for the kids as I knew it would, but I continue to steal out there every chance I get, to lounge by the pool and take a dip. I've got my music on and it feels like a mini-vacation. The pool was really more for me than for them, to be honest, but I am happy to see them enjoying it too. After school, Joey and a friend often want to swim when the weather cooperates, and I love hearing their excited chatter while they play. I'm so glad that this is now part of their childhood experience. I currently have the heater on, and I'll see how long I can make the season last.

Most outdoor things fall in Tim's domain to take care of, but the pool is the exception. He has no time for it; he's got way too much on his plate already. I think of it as my sixth baby, and while I do need help sometimes, I take care of it myself. I took video of my pool school, and pointed the phone at everything the pool guy (whose name also happens to be Tim) showed me. I watched the videos many times, and the first three times I went through my weekly cleaning routine, I went step-by-step with them. I called him a few times with my dumb questions, which he was happy to answer. I really thought I had the hang of the week-to-week pool care, but one day after I'd gotten done vacuuming, and had emptied the pump basket, I turned the system back on and for whatever reason it just wouldn't work. I called my husband over, and he had me walk him through what I'd done (nothing out of the usual, I thought), he started pressing some buttons, and it kicked on. I have no idea what I did to break it, and he has no idea what he did to fix it.🤷Is this every new pool owner or just us? 

Tim still gets the itch to move -- he's crazy like that. One time he said to me, "We could move to a house with a yard that could have a pool right in the middle, right out the back door." But to that I said, "I kind of like that the pool isn't the main attraction, that it's just tucked into one corner." If we only want to be in bathing suits a few months out of the year, I like that we still have the whole rest of the yard for throwing a ball around, playing cornhole, flashlight tag, and whatever else they like to do. Above is a photo taken from the opposite corner, and from that perspective you see a nice big backyard that happens to have a pool. Our next door neighbor finally trimmed that hedge too, which makes the view so much better. You can't really see from this angle, but that hedge was really out of control and kind of an eyesore that I just tried not to see. (Tim is rolling his eyes at that--he couldn't have cared less about that hedge.)

The pool was the last piece of the puzzle that makes our house the place we need never leave. Having it transforms the dog days of summer into the best days, and I couldn't be more grateful. 

*Sorry, just couldn't help myself.😊

**To get a pool permit. Jason and his family were in Category 1 because they built their house and made sure their septic was in the front.

Thomas: 4 Months

Little man is now four months old. "Toms," "Tooty," "Mr. McTooterson," "Tooter," and "Tom-tom" are some nicknames he goes by. Still no Tommy.

It was hard getting him to stay on his back long enough to take his four month photo because now that he can roll back to belly, he can't seem to stop doing it. Then he gets on his hands and knees and rocks back and forth. He hasn't figured out what to do with his arms, though, so sometimes he'll push himself forward from his knees and land on his chest, pinning his arms underneath him. It looks like he'll crawl early like big brother Joe.

Remember how, in my pregnancy announcement post, I talked about how Tim was looking forward to having a little buddy to take with him on his errands? Last Saturday was the first time that happened. The timing worked out where he had just nursed but didn't want to go back to sleep (but I did!), and Tim was ready to head out. It went well -- he doesn't hate the car so much anymore. And I look forward to this becoming a habit.

This week at his well visit, he weighed in at 16 lbs 6 oz, and was 26-point-something inches long. He's over a pound heavier and an inch longer than his brothers were at the same age. He's about the same size Annie was at four months. Way to grow, Thomas! His pediatrician wasn't impressed, because he had fallen a little on his percentiles. But he's still on track to double his birth weight by six months, so there's that. He's still in size 2 diapers and 3-6 onesies, the same four on rotation for weeks on end. I got him a new footed sleeper in size 6-9 that has cute little pumpkin pie slices all over it, but from the way he's filling it out right now, I have a feeling he'll outgrow it by Thanksgiving. 

The quality of his nighttime sleep has not been the best this last month. He goes to bed pretty reliably around 8, and I put him in a super absorbency nighttime diaper now too at this time. He lasts till maybe midnight, sometimes only till 10, then he wants to nurse. If it's only 10, I nurse him and lay him back in his bassinet, but even then he still only lasts till midnight. Then I nurse him and keep him in bed with me the rest of the night. I remind myself he won't be this little for long. I get sad when I think of how much he's changed already, how different his little body feels next to me in the bed. He's so much bigger and stronger now, and he moves his arms and legs a lot. I remember when he was just a tiny bundle calmly sleeping, and the only movement was the rise and fall of his belly. In addition to the growing baby, we've had Joey coming into our bed at some point in the night for many months. Recently we finally admitted that a queen bed doesn't serve our needs anymore, and are upgrading to a king.* We've got the bed frame, sheets, bedding and pillows all ready to go; it's that mattress and box spring that are taking their sweet old time getting here. 

As far as daytime goes, he is usually up for the day around 7, goes down for his first nap around 8, and then the rest of the day is: nap, up for a while and happy, down for another nap maybe around noon. That nap could last anywhere from 45 minutes to a couple hours. After that he has one or two more naps still, and then starts to get cranky and want to cluster feed around 5:30 or 6. He is pretty high maintenance from that point until he goes to bed around 8.

As much fun as it is to watch him grow and change, I sometimes want to cry at the way time is flying. I guess that's how it always is with a baby.

 

*The old Tim and Rachael would simply not allow children in the queen size bed. We held that line for a long time.😄

This is why I stayed home.

It's not often I get the itch to write down anything anymore, beyond the usual monthly baby reports or family visits. But a couple nights ago I came across a story of Candace Owens's nightmarish stay in the hospital with the birth of her second child. She shared this article in her Instagram Stories, which describes how the "hospital mafia descended" on her after her refusal of antibiotics or pitocin during labor; and how after being told she had to stay a full 48 hours, she was threatened with child protective services when she checked herself and her newborn out of the hospital against medical advice. In the next slide she said, "Don't worry. I just about jumped my pediatrician, took my baby and left the hospital." I listened to her tell the story in this podcast episode today, and although I shook my head the whole way through, I can't say I found anything about it surprising.

This really struck a nerve with me, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. So I'm going to write down my story for posterity. Here, my loved ones, is the reason that after having two children in a hospital, I had the rest at home. Hint: it's not because deep down I am really a hippie (although, like my husband, I do drive a Subaru and wear Birkenstocks, so maybe an argument could be made😉). Read on if you care to.

When I had Annie in 2009, I had tested positive for Group B strep a few weeks prior, and told at that time I would need to receive antibiotics during labor. However, since my labor was too quick and there had been no time for antibiotics during it, I was told we would need to stay at the hospital a full 48 hours. I had no problem with this.

Annie was a hale and hearty nine pounds even, with a vigorous appetite. But the pediatrician told me that her high birth weight could mean that I had undiagnosed gestational diabetes; thus, they would need to draw her blood before feedings in order to test her blood sugar. I forget how many hours, how many feedings. I balked at this, and it hurts me to remember it even now, how after a feeble argument and a stern talking-to I received in response, I let them cart my perfectly healthy baby away to prick her heel before I fed her. You'll never convince me there was any good reason for that; anyone could look at this baby and see she was healthy. Would they have done it if she had weighed 8 pounds 15 ounces? 

I do not believe there was any concerted effort by a "hospital mafia" to make me uncomfortable; after all, I had not defied anyone's authority. I think what happened to me the following day in the wee hours of the morning was just business as usual. The two of us were sleeping soundly for the first time in many hours. I was profoundly exhausted from birth and from nursing her at all hours of the night. Suddenly every florescent light in our room came on one by one and a woman appeared announcing that she would need to draw my blood and the baby's. I looked at a clock. It was 4 a.m. I wish I had told her to go away and come back at 9 at least, but I was exhausted and didn't argue. The phlebotomist quickly did her work and left, leaving me thinking, 'Wow, did that really just happen?'

I think to a certain extent, if either the baby or I had been very sick, I would have no choice but to have to submit to whatever procedures they wanted to do, whatever time they wanted to do it. I might have even been glad to. But to have to put up with this as a healthy mother with a healthy baby, made zero sense to me. I told Tim I was never having another baby in a hospital again, and I meant it.

And now years later, when I showed the Candace Owens story to Tim, he exclaimed, "What was she doing having a baby in the hospital?" Being the way she is, and already knowing the way a hospital is, one would have to wonder. Someone once said, "You buy a hospital ticket, you take a hospital ride." And yet, women should be able to give birth in the hospital without having to forfeit their freedom and their say in any matter. After all, most do not have other options. Owens is far from being the first, but I am glad to see someone with her kind of clout shining a light on the intimidation and abuses of power that regularly go on inside these institutions. 

When Annie was two, I had another run-in with a hospital. After being advised by a nurse on the Tricare hotline who listened to her breathe, I took her to the emergency room. After being treated there, she was transferred to another hospital an hour away. By then she was breathing well, but the ER doctor made this decision out of an abundance of caution. It seemed to me that the team at the children's hospital there went on treating her as if she were very sick long after she stopped showing signs of being sick. But what do I know, I'm just a mom, I didn't go to medical school. However, I began to feel strongly that just being in that setting was doing her more harm than good, and it was time for us to go home. I would have understood that this is something we had to endure -- yes, with Tim deployed, without family to help, and far from what support system I did have -- if that's what it took, if the child was really in danger. I knew this was not the case. But when a nurse overheard me mention to Tim on the phone that I was considering checking her out AMA if they tried to keep us another night, she gave me this warning: "Just so you know, when a child is checked out AMA, we do have to involve child protective services."

Unlike Owens, I am not someone who can just laugh this off. I don't think a horse tranquilizer could have settled me down any faster than those words. Child protective services? You mean the people who come take your kids away and then ask questions? I had read the stories. I decided to shut up, keep my head down, and do whatever it took to keep my family together. We were discharged that afternoon as it turned out, and Annie has never had a problem since. I still think I did the right thing, taking her to the emergency room; I'm just not sure that what took place over the ensuing 24 hours really needed to happen the way it did.

I can honestly say that the only times I have felt truly terrified and powerless as a parent, have been in a hospital setting. It's like being sucked into a machine, and you're at its mercy up to the minute it removes your hep-lock, spits you out, and forgets you exist. I really feel for the families whose children really are sick and, but I'm sure that knowing your child is being helped makes it easier to comply with all of the hospital's dictates. I can only hope.

After expressing how little trust I have in the medical establishment, I will say that, paradoxically, they could very well be the ones to save my life one day, or Tim's, or one of the kids.' They have a skill set that is indispensable in an actual crisis. I really think that is the key: it has to be a crisis. They have a tendency to treat non-threatening situations as threatening, and healthy people like sick people, which in practice kind of makes them bullies. And since I don't want to have to fend off bullies when I am either in labor in a vulnerable postpartum state, then I have chosen as a healthy woman having a healthy baby, to stay at home. I know where to find them if I need them. Furthermore, Tim and I carefully weigh the decision to go to the hospital for any reason, and pray to always get it right. If we don't already have a real crisis on our hands, we might once we go through those doors.