Scenes From the Hospital

Evacuation chair. To wheel people down the stairs, presumably when the elevator is out.

There is one of these in the stairwell on the west wing. One. Not even one per floor. Just one. I'm really not certain how efficient an evacuation will be with just one evacuation chair for the entire west wing of our hospital.

But never fear, because if we need to evacuate the NICU, there is this:

You just shove a baby in each pocket and run.

A lot more efficient than a single evacuation chair.

And, not gonna lie, I could have used one of these a few times when the boys were itty bitty. Would have made folding the laundry and other household tasks a bit easier!

DILMOT: Part 2.

Please see Part 1 for the first part of the day. If you want to. If you randomly showed up at this post, and it is a Part 2 post and you really want to know about Part 1, then go read Part 1. If you just want to read Part 2, feel free. Or, you know, don't. My kids don't listen to me, why should you!

We left off at lunch time.

Peanut butter and honey (crusts cut off), gold fish crackers and berries all around!

For your own lunch, you prepare a salad, and toast the crusts of the kids' sandwiches. Toasted crusts make good croutons!

After lunch, do you:
a) Help the kids with a craft project
b) Clean up breakfast and lunch mess while the kids play
c) Take out the garbage since garbage day is tomorrow

You chose a. Some days you choose b, but you're feeling parental today and want to do something fun! Also, you bought a craft project at the dollar section in Target and if you don't do it today, it will just become another project stashed on the shelf that you will do 'someday.'

You manage to keep your calm while the kids paint, and the paint stays relatively contained. You even let them go outside and pick a couple of rocks to paint, because painting things is fun!

Then Child B tries to paint Child A's rock.

So much loudness. And painting time is done.

1:30: You clean up from painting and decide to try to get started on the garbage. You go outside to drag the big bins to the front of the house.

1:32: You come back inside to this:

They want to keep playing. Child B insists that you play, too. Do you:
a) Make them clean it up, and proceed to nap time.
b) Let them play for a bit while you clean up breakfast and lunch dishes and take out the garbage.
c) Join them in the chaos.

You choose c.

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em! After a rousing game of pretend restaurant/doctor's office, you finally convince Child B and Child C to head upstairs for nap time. Child A joins you and makes every effort to undermine the process because she wants to keep playing with them. After some tears, a time out or two, a couple of books and some big hugs, Child B and C are down for their nap.

2:30: Child A wants to keep playing with you, so you give her some undiluted Mommy time. Part of you feels like a wonderful mother for focusing all of your attention on her when she wants it. The other part of you realizes that you are doing it just to stave off another argument.

3:00: Child A gets 30 minutes of screen time before her own rest time.

During that 30 minutes, do you:
a) Clean up those darned breakfast and lunch dishes, as well as the mess the kids made
b) Go take care of busy work in the office
c) Take out the garbage
d) Work out

You choose b. 30 minutes of screen time for yourself to pay some bills and check Facebook, etc.

3:30-3:45: Get Child A upstairs and into her room for 'Quiet Time.' She believes the quiet part is optional.

3:45: You have reached your one and only uninterrupted hour of the day. Do you:
a) Clean up the stupid breakfast and lunch dishes
b) Clean up the messes the kids made during craft and play time
c) Take out the garbage
d) Clean the front window that you noticed is getting mildewy around the trim after all the rainy weather
e) Sit back in the office to start writing a blog post
f) Take a shower
g) Work out
h) Start working on dinner

You want to do all of the above, but only manage to squeeze in a haphazard mix of a-e.

4:45 (on the dot): Child A shows up at your office door, in a princess costume and wants a snack. Immediately.

5:00: Child B and Child C are still sleeping. Do you:
a) Wake them up so that they will go to bed at a decent hour
b) Let them keep sleeping

You choose a. You have to choose a every day. You've tried shifting their nap earlier, but they just stay awake until the normal nap time and still try to sleep past 5. You are thankful that they still nap, but a big part of you is ready to be done with naps so you aren't tied to the house for 2-3 hours every afternoon.

5:15: It starts raining out of no where! Rainbow weather! You rush the kids outside, Child B and Child C still barely awake.

They're not as excited as you are.

5:30: Time to start cooking dinner. Also, the kids are grumpy and all want snacks. Do you:
a) Attempt to cook dinner while dealing with each new crisis as it comes up
b) Order pizza
c) Turn on the TV to hypnotize them while you cook in relative calm

You choose c. You wonder every day how parents of the past got dinner cooked without TV to distract the kids.

You attempt to prepare a well balanced meal, while fully aware that they will eat approximately 0-10% of what you put in front of them.

All she ate was the roll and the tomatoes.

6:30-7:30: You clean up dinner, the kids run and play and fight. You may or may not yell.

At one point, you attempt to sneak back in to the office to keep working on your blog. During which time you have to tell Child B that you are not ordering pizza, you are writing a blog. No, not ordering a blog. ("No order blog. Me no like blog.") Writing a blog. Blog. No, it isn't food. It's a... blog.

7:30ish: You remember that it is your Dad's birthday! Do you:
a) Send a "Happy Birthday!" text
b) Skype with your parents

Of course you choose b! You try to have a grown up conversation with your parents while Child B insists that he has to man the tablet and only wants to talk to the dog. Child C shuts Child A's finger in the door causing both of them to completely lose it. You figure your parents wonder where they went wrong with you as they get to witness the night time craziness first hand! You manage to get all of the kids to allow you to sing Happy Birthday to your dad. Child B does not approve of singing.

After hanging up, Child A has a complete and utter melt down because "You care more about your parents than about me!" Clearly undiluted Mommy time earlier didn't help.

8:00: Time to head upstairs for the bedtime ritual! This starts at 7 on bath nights (thus waking the kids up from nap at 5!)

At this point, Child C, who has been the least demanding child all day long has some sort of breakdown caused by something completely unknown, but apparently tragic.

You try to calm him down, but your efforts are met with blood curdling screams, so you leave him alone to reset.

8:20: Your husband makes it home after a long day at work.

All the children are happy to see him. Child C breaks out of his funk, cause still unknown.

Bed time ritual continues:
- PJs
- Dance Party
- Books (oh so much drama about who reads what book, and who sits where, etc)
- Teeth (more drama about who gets brushed first and by whom)
- A trip to Child A's room to turn on her rainbow
- Back to Child B and C's room to turn on their moon
- Sing a song to Child B and Child C
- Do a special dance back to Child A's room
- Sing to Child A
- Tend to any child that needs fresh water, a new diaper, one last hug, etc

9:20: All kids finally in bed, you head back downstairs with your husband. With his help, you finally finish taking out the garbage, finish cleaning up from breakfast, lunch and dinner and all the other messes that accumulated through the day.

10:00: Crash on the couch to spend an hour or two talking about your respective days, politics and finally watching a bit of mindless television.

12:00: Bed. You set your alarm for 6:30 thinking that you will try to get up and go for a run in the morning!

Day in the Life: Mother of Three, part 1.

I've posted a lot about my professional job lately. Let's venture into a day in my other 'job' - my life as a mom. My Day in the Life as a Mom of Three (DILMOT, as opposed to DILPH)

We're going to do a "Choose Your Own Adventure" day. Except that you can't actually choose, since I already chose, and I have not yet mastered the skill of alteration of Time and Space, so cannot therefore go back and choose a different choice. So, let's call it a "Choose My Adventure" sort of a post, mmm-kay?

6:45: Alarm goes off. Do you:
a) Get up, as planned to go make a fresh pot of coffee, have a quick bite to eat and a few moments to yourself before the kids wake up
b) Hit the snooze button repeatedly until Child A hops exuberantly into your bed and starts talking non-stop.
c) Get up and work out

You choose b.

After addressing Child A's numerous questions about what was going to happen during the day, she declares that she can't possibly get out of (your) bed yet and getting dressed is beyond the last thing that she could possibly do. So, you run downstairs, start a pot of coffee, check back in with Child A (now feigning sleep) and go to wake up Child B and Child C.

Child B only resists getting up a little bit. He has had copious diarrhea for the last 5 days and has woken up soaked in disgusting combination of urine and stool for the last several mornings. You are elated to find his bed only mildly damp this morning!

Do you:
a) Soak him in the bath to make sure he starts the day fresh and clean, not slightly smelling of urine.
b) Wipe him down with baby wipes.

You choose b.

Child C, who has been awake for about 45 minutes talking to himself and making bizarre noises gladly hops out of bed. You give him an extra squeeze, because... thank you.

Now, back to Child A. She has moved from your bed to her bedroom floor at the prompting of your husband (Who is amazing, and helps out where he can. I only gloss over his contributions for the sake of brevity)

She picked her clothes out last night, thank goodness. But she still insists that she is incapable of doffing or donning any clothes by herself (despite the multiple costume changes you have seen her execute sans assistance).

7:50: All kids (and yourself) finally clothed (but not bathed), you head downstairs. You try to convince all of them simultaneously that it doesn't matter who picks out their juice cup first. This may or may not involve yelling.

Child A wants yogurt and orange juice.
Child B wants "monkey" cereal and apple juice.
Child C wants "mama" cereal and apple juice.

All of them want it first. You try to convince them that it doesn't matter whose food is prepared first. This may or may not involve yelling.

You grab some coffee and a quick bite to eat while managing requests for seconds, thirds, or entirely different meals than what they were already served.

8:15: Everyone fed, dressed and shoed, you head to the car.

8:25: You drive away from home. You wonder again how it takes 10 minutes (on a good day) to get from the front door to driving away.

8:35: Drop Child A off at Pre school.

Now, left with two children, do you:
a) Go to Target.
b) Take them to the park, it is a nice sunny day after a lot of rainy days, and they need to get some energy out.
c) Go home and try to clean a little while the boys play.
d) Work out

You choose a.

Target with Child B and C is much easier than with all three. Heck, Target with Child B and C is easier than Target with Child A alone. Child A has discovered consumerism. Children B and C are (as of yet) happy to play with a toy, then put it back on the shelf.

You spend an inordinate amount of time at Target, seeing as you only went to pick up some birthday gifts for Child A (who is about to turn 5!) and a few groceries. A lot of that time is spent bribing Child B with food. And taking two separate trips to the bathroom to change two separate poopy diapers. Even though Child B insisted on sitting on the potty when you were changing Child C's diaper.

Time to check out. Do you:
a) Choose the longer line with the checker you recognize as being okay, but a talker.
b) Self check out
c) Choose the slightly shorter line with a checker you don't recognize.

You choose c.

You chose wrong. You always choose wrong.

Your friendly new Target checker is perhaps the slowest checker you've ever encountered in your life. And super chatty. And doesn't seem to understand that you need to attend to Child B who is more and more frantically insisting that "I push button!" on the ATM pad. So you spend the 10+ minutes in the checkout line holding Child B, trying to distract him, while making idle conversation with the checker. "Yes, yes, you will get to push the button, but not yet. Yes, that is a great deal. No, don't touch that. No, I haven't tried those before. Stop pulling on my purse! Oh, you don't need to bag the gallons of milk. Here, hold the card, but it isn't time yet. Or the two liters. Oops! You dropped the card. Yes I have a Red Card. Okay, put the card in. No cash back, thank you. No, don't pull the card out yet! You can push the button now!"

It finally ends, and has taken long enough, that it is already time to go get Child A from school. (It is early release day, so she's done a bit earlier.)

You get all the kids home, out of the car, manage to distract Child A enough that she doesn't catch on that the back of the car is filled with a myriad of birthday and Easter (and probably Christmas) presents. Child B wants to carry in all the groceries BY HIMSELF, and child C trips and falls while carrying a 6 pack of beer* (thankfully, child and beer survive unscathed). Also Child A is upset because I am paying attention to her brothers and not her. Lots of talking and soothing.

*I did not hand said child a 6 pack of beer. He grabbed it from where I had briefly set it down to help Child B deal with a gallon of milk.

12:00 You made it to lunch!

... and the end of this particular blog post. I'll post more of your day tomorrow (honestly, it actually is tomorrow already).

You can head on to Part two here!

I [hate emoji] February.

I remember the winter of 2008 as a bad season. I was in my second year of residency, and I spent February in the PICU. In addition to working an ungodly amount of hours, we had, if I remember correctly, seven pediatric deaths. Most of those were due to influenza. That single four week period of my life is why I will always recommend the flu vaccine, even though it is only 48% effective, at least this year. Cause I can guarantee you that those parents of those seven children would have done anything to reduce their child's risk by 48%.

I digress.

The point is that I remember that February as probably one of the most stressful months in my life. It was stressful and depressing and demoralizing. The only saving grace was the presence of the rest of the PICU team, particularly the attendings. As much as I may have hated them at the time, they were a calming, seemingly all-knowing presence that mitigated my own stress. I may be clueless at the best way to treat a patient's VQ mismatch or the the finer points of extracorporeal membrane oxygenation, but the Attending would Make It Better. (And maybe only make me feel a little foolish at the same time...)

I hated that February.

As it turns out, though, when you graduate from residency and take on a Grown Up Job, YOU are the attending. YOU are the one that is supposed to be the calming, seemingly all-knowing presence that will Make It Better.

And it turns out, that I generally hate Februarys.

I am glad that February is the shortest month of the year because I HATE IT. Capitalized, bolded, italicized. HATE IT.

It is the peak of our 'respiratory season.' The month that kids get the sickest. Little babies and toddlers that struggle to breathe and cough so violently they throw up. Sometimes, all it takes is a little bit of oxygen and some TLC and the babies and toddlers do fine. They spend night or two in the hospital, then they look better and feel better, and everyone is happy and they get to go home, yay!

But this is a bad season again. The little babies and toddlers are coming in sicker, and they are staying sicker longer. We give them a little oxygen, but it isn't enough. So we give them a little more. And maybe some IV fluids. And maybe try some breathing treatments. And do they have a fever? Maybe it is the fever making them breathe like that. Or maybe we need to start antibiotics? And are they still breathing hard and fast? Maybe we should try some more support with a different kind of nasal canula? Another breathing treatment? Steroids? Did that help? Is their stomach too full from eating? Maybe we need to stop letting them eat while they are working that hard to breathe? Are they fussy because they're hungry or because they can't breathe? Did we try a breathing treatment? What else can we do? How long can we let them work this hard? Are they getting tired because it is nap time or because they are about to stop breathing entirely?

And you guys -- it is MY job to answer those questions. Obviously with the help of the nurses and respiratory therapists and the family. But, ultimately, it is my responsibility. I only see my fellow pediatricians once a day - at 8 am when one of us comes to relieve the other.

I have been doing my Grown Up Job for going on eight years now (!) And these questions have become HARDER to answer. I feel like I should just know what to do - oh, he needs albuterol, she needs antibiotics, and he just needs a hug and a bottle! Some days I do. Some days I totally rock it, and make good diagnoses and treatment plans, and patients get better and I feel Competent and Effective.

But not in February.

Ultimately, when I can't answer the questions, or my answers aren't making the patient get better, I have to transfer the patient to a Higher Level of Care - aka the PICU. We are super lucky to have two amazing PICUs to choose from within a 20 minute helicopter flight. It is absolutely the right decision to make for patient safety, but part of me feels like I failed in my job any time I have to transfer a patient out. Like I didn't find the correct combination of therapies to stabilize the patient with the resources I have available. In reality, that is completely irrational, as 95% of the time, they escalate care in the PICU above what we were doing. And we provide near-PICU level care here.

But it still feels like a failure.

This respiratory season (since late December), I've had seven transfers (likely eight before the night is done). Those I've transferred have spent from 2-9 days in the other hospital before going home, so again, demonstrably not a failure on my part.

But still.

I read articles about burn out in doctors, and think - oh, those traits don't apply to me. I have control over my life and work, I know what I'm supposed to do, my coworkers are great and supportive and I love what I do.

Except in February.

I feel like the clueless resident waiting for the all-knowing attending to come up with the clear solution and Make It Better. (And maybe make me feel only a little foolish...)

February is officially my Burn Out Month. Things should start to improve in mid-March. Fewer kids will get sick. They'll get better faster and will respond to treatments the way I think they should. I can and will push through until then. Then my job will be awesome again.

In the meantime, I'll vent a little (or a lot), and my house will get super messy because I used up all my Adult-ness at work and can't possibly Adult at home. And I will try to go for runs, and will definitely drink a lot of coffee and wine.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to tranfer a patient...

A Day in the Life

Have I ever done a "Day in the Life" post? I don't think so. Maybe? I know I've thought about it before, but can't remember if I have ever done it before.

And I'm too lazy to go back and look.

So.

A Day in the Life.

But, wait. Should I do a Day in the Life (henceforth known as DIL (I'm excluding the "T" for aesthetic reasons)) for my life as a Pediatric Hospitalist, or DIL for my life as a Mom of Three. Mom of Three must be capitalized if Pediatric Hospitalist is.

Seeing as today, my actual DIL was as the former*, I shall proceed with that.

*Interesting** aside. I love LM Montgomery books. Anne and Emily were my literary soul sisters growing up. Well, LM is fond of using "former" and "latter" in her writing. I am ashamed to admit how long it took me to actually figure out what those words meant. I was like 14 years old before I finally had to stop and use my Context Clues (also capitalized) to determine which was which.

And, as I come to the end of writing that paragraph, I am struck with the sudden realization that it was a lie. It was actually the word "fortnight" that Lucy Maud used a lot, and I didn't know what it meant until I was 14. I did, in fact, use my Context Clues to figure it out. Two weeks. I don't remember when I learned former vs. latter.

**And by "Interesting," I mean "Really, just a rambling paragraph about nothing."***

***And, as it turns out, a total lie.

All aboard, welcome back to my train of thought.

So. My DIL as a Pediatric Hospitalist. DILPH. Say it out loud. You know you wanna.

6:00: Alarm goes off

6:15-ish: I actually get up. Sorry, Marc, it is hard to break the Snooze addiction.

6:15-7: I attempt to get ready as quietly as possible so as not to mix up my DILPH with my DILMOT (got me?) by waking up the nearly-5 year old lightly sleeping in the other room.

7:00: Get accosted by said nearly-5 year old who wants me to 1)let her sleep; 2)carry her downstairs; 3)eat breakfast with her; 4)not go to work; and 5)talk WAY more than I want to in the morning. All at the same time.

7:15 - 7:45: Drive to work. The quietest part of my life. Some people hate commuting. I welcome the adult time that I have ALL TO MYSELF. I either listen to NPR, Hamilton, pop music or Pediatric lectures on tape, depending on how responsible I'm feeling.

8:00-8:30: Sign out. This is when the outgoing Pediatric Hospitalist tells me about the patients that I'm taking over for. Also a great time to confer with a colleague about how to best care for our patients. And to vent.

And, in continuing with my rambling post, I will now refer you back to the post I wrote nearly two years ago, wherein I outlined what I do during my day working at the hospital. One might be inclined to call it a DIL post. If one wanted. The only real difference from two years ago is that I no longer intubate babies that poop before they were born. We no longer punish them for that. Science.

Now I don't know what to write about.

I suppose I should get back to writing the ER consult note, discharge summary, transfer summary and 2 daily notes I have left to write. Or to go see the two newborns that need to be admitted. Hmm. Perhaps this blog post was all about procrastination? And you fell for it! Mwa hahaha!

Next, I will write my DILMOT post. Perhaps in a fortnight or so.

See you in two weeks.

CONTEXT CLUES.

Midnight Coffee

Okay, technically it isn't actually midnight, but 10:22 pm coffee sounds a lot clunkier.

The point is, it is getting late, and I smell coffee brewing, so I want some.

But it is getting late, and I'm 37 years old, and if I drink coffee at 10:22 pm, I will be up for about 3 more hours.

And then I'll wake up, and I will be like my 3 year old daughter when you wake her up after not getting enough sleep. In other words: grumpy and whiny. But, again, I am 37 years old, so I will be expected to function like a 37 year old and put on my own panties and make my own breakfast, which absolutely will include coffee. But I will have to have at least three cups of that coffee to feel like I am awake enough to also put on pants and socks, as adults must do, and then I'll have the too-much-coffee-shakes, and I'll have to pee a lot, which will make me even grumpier and whinier, but I will STILL be 37 years old and will have to also take care of the aforementioned 3 year old and her 1.5 year old twin brothers. After I get home from work that is. Which is where I sit right now telling myself that I do not, in fact, need 10:22 pm coffee.

But it smells so good!

And technically, it is now 10:28 pm coffee.

10:29. I had to proof read.

Six Years!

Tomorrow marks my SIX year anniversary at my job! That is cuh-ray-zee. For those of you who haven't gone through as many years of school and training as I have, being in one location for six years by the time you're 37 is probably pretty... underwhelming. But for me, it is pretty monumental. This marks the most time I have spent on any one 'chunk' of my life... EVER. A quick review:
5 years of you know, infancy and such, 4 years elementary school in MN, 2 years elementary school in OR, 3 years junior high, 3 years high school, 4 years college, 1 year receptionist, 1 year AmeriCorps VISTA, 4 years medical school, 3 years residency, and 6 years here!


SIX YEARS. That is ...math... 2,191 days, 315,384 hours, and so forth (more math). Granted, I have missed a full year with my two maternity leaves, but I'm just gonna ignore that for now.

In honor of my sixth anniversary, I figured I'd fill you in on A Day in the Life of a Pediatric Hospitalist. Thrilling, no?

6:30 - Wake up. Sometimes this is earlier. Sometimes it is in the middle of the night. Especially when Marian decides that her imaginary friend needs the pink smiley face light turned on in a specific way to make the colors go through a specific rotation. One time, I got up early and worked out. Then Marian started waking up in the middle of the night to force us to cater to the whims of her imaginary friends, and I decided working out at 5 am was WAY overrated. But, 6:30 is the goal. It used to be 5:30 when I got up to pump for the boys. It used to be 5:15 when we lived in Sacramento and I had to commute 1 hour and 45 minutes to work. But, again. 6:30 is awesome. Or 6:35. But no later than that.

I leave for work around 7:15. Isn't that a nice, civilized time? I can't tell you how much I like leaving for work after the sun has risen. I still need lots of coffee, though.

8:00 - Meet with the pediatrician going off service to get 'sign out.' This is when they tell me who the patients are and what is going on with them. I also get the pager from the person going off service. Pager. Remember those? Doctors used to use them, and drug dealers, I guess, and then for about, what? 2 years in the 90s, everyone had pagers. Now it's pretty much just doctors again.

After sign out, I usually head to the opposite side of the hospital to the doctor's lounge to get a second cup of coffee. And maybe a slice of bacon. One of the perks of being an attending is the doctor's lounge. There is a coffee machine, and they serve us breakfast and lunch Monday through Friday. It's pretty much just cafeteria food. Correction: it IS just cafeteria food. But it's free, and even though I have been out of med school and residency for almost as long as I was in, I'm a sucker for a free meal. I think most doctors are. I think that's why pharmaceutical reps have such a hold over some doctors. Not me. I haven't seen a pharm rep since... medical school? Not many medications to push to inpatient pediatricians!

Today, after coffee #2, I went to the scheduled morning c-section. At a c-section, I scrub in, get all gowned and sterile-d up, and then stand there while the OB and the midwife get the baby out. Sometimes I suction things. Sometimes I adjust the overhead light. A lot of the time I wonder why I am scrubbed in at a scheduled c-section. Most of the time, the babies come out kicking and screaming, and I just carry the baby over to the warmer, where I meet the nurse, and we dry and assess the baby. Occasionally, the baby needs a little extra support. If the baby pooped before birth, there is a risk of them breathing the meconium into their lungs, so I'll place an endotracheal tube to suck out their trachea. If the baby doesn't want to breathe, we'll stimulate the baby, and may use a mask and bag to give the baby a few breaths. If the baby's heart rate drops too low, we'll do chest compressions. In my six years here, I've intubated probably 20-30 babies, I've used bag-mask ventilation for too many to count, and I've done chest compressions on maybe 5 or 6. Babies are awesome. They come out with such a strong will to live, we usually don't have to do anything!

After this morning's c section, I rounded on the other healthy newborns. During my rounds, I look at the patient's information on the computer - their vital signs, lab results, notes from the nurses, and their ins and outs (how much they ate, and how much they peed and pooped) Then I go into the rooms, and examine the babies, and chat with the parents. I enjoy this part most of the time. Most parents are sleep deprived, but happy. Most of the babies are just fine. Some get jaundice, some have murmurs, some get broken collar bones, a lot have feeding issues and some have other issues that they were born with. But most babies, again, do just fine.

When I was done seeing babies, I rounded on the patients admitted to Pediatrics. On Pediatrics, we have kids any where from a few days old through 18 years old. During the winter, most of the admissions are for respiratory illnesses - mostly babies with bronchiolitis, a lot of asthma, and some pneumonia. During the summer, we have a lot of stomach flu/dehydration, appendicitis, abscesses and still more asthma. I talk to the nurses about the patients, examine them, talk to the families and make any changes to the plan of care based on how the kid is doing. Kids are great patients, too. They let you know when they are sick, and they get better. We take care of some pretty sick kids at our hospital, but we don't have any pediatric sub-specialists. If a patient needs to see a specialist in person, or if they are getting close to needing to be treated in an ICU, we transfer them down to UCSF Children's Hospital or to Children's Hospital Oakland.

Oh, and of course, I have to document all the things that I did - histories and physicals for new patients, daily notes for ones that stay and discharge summaries for the ones that go home.

I managed to round on all my patients before lunch today. Depending on the day, rounds can take anywhere from 1 hour to 10 hours. Summer months are generally lighter as we typically have only 1-3 kids. In the winter, we can have as many as 10-12 kids, plus the newborns.

Lunch in the doctor's lounge is usually pretty entertaining. We have a lot of older doctors in the hospital, though the average age is getting lower and lower then longer I've been here as more young doctors join the medical group I work for. There is one doctor in particular who sits in the lounge from about 11-2 EVERY day, and sort of holds court. He knows everyone, and is loud and opinionated. Several of my colleagues don't go to the lounge during meal time to avoid some of the craziness. I find it all amusing, though, so I go.

After lunch, I did a circumcision. There are a grand total of two procedures that I do: circumcisions and lumbar punctures. Oh, and I do frenulectomies. And intubations. And sometimes I squeeze abscess so that pus comes out. So, I guess I do a handful of procedures. I like doing procedures, though I am a bit on the fence lately about the appropriateness of doing routine circumcisions on newborn boys. I will say, I do a mean penile block, and 99% of those boys that I do circumcise sleep through the whole procedure.

The rest of the day, I tie up loose ends on the existing patients, re-assess the patients, make new plans, talk to any parents/grandparents/family friends that have questions.

I also have the pager. Ahh, the pager. The pager can and will go off at any point during the day. It is harsh and it makes my soul jump every time I hear it. I don't fear it as much as I did during the first 2 years of the job, when every patient encounter had me convinced that I was going to do something awful and destroy someone's life (I never did). But a call on the pager can be anything, including:
- A nurse with a patient update or question
- The ER with a consult on a pediatric patient
- The transfer center calling to connect me to a doctor from an outside hospital who has a patient they want to admit to us
- Call to go to a delivery for a baby they expect might need help after they're born
- One time, I got paged to a private number. It was a man looking for his wife to tell her he was on his way home from work. That was a wrong number.
- A lot of times, I get paged to three digit or five digit numbers (our extensions have 4 digits). Then it's like a mystery! Who called! I try calling all the numbers it could be until I find who it was. Or I ignore it, and wait for them to page me back. Depends on my mood.

This is where I hang out when I'm not on the Pediatrics floor, the ER, labor and delivery or post partum:

I think it used to be a closet. But, it has everything we need - desk, phone, computer, chair, bed, refrigerator, microwave and TV. No bathroom, though. Oh how I cursed that fact while I was pregnant!

I'm here for 24 hours. Sometimes I get a full night's sleep, sometimes I get 2 hours of sleep. It depends on the time of year, luck, and tidal forces, I guess. And maybe, just maybe, the particular socks that I chose to wear that day. Not that I'm superstitious...

So, that's sums up my day. Pretty glamorous, right? Hmm. Okay, so not super exciting, but I love it. Six years here, and I still am happy to come to work most of the time. I get excited with some of the crazy diagnoses we see, and I love the challenge. I have great interactions with some families. And while I respect, appreciate and like my colleagues, I don't actually see a lot of them - only at the beginning and end of each shift. I work much more closely with the nurses, who are absolutely a highlight of my job.

If you actually read all the way through this, here is your reward: pictures of the kids. They're my other job, that I do the 23 days of the month that I'm not here!

Alien Archaeologists and Eyelashes.

There are times when day to day life can seem routine and boring. At times where I am suffering from general ennui, and a lack of creative drive, I ponder the ways in which I am totally and utterly unique.

(And you are, too.)

Think about it: there has never, in the history of the world been another person sitting where you are, wearing the clothes that you are wearing, reading the words that you are reading. And there never will be again. There are 7 billion people on our planet, but you are the ONLY one thinking whatever you are thinking right now. Unless you're thinking how much you like apple pie. Then there are two of us thinking that right now.

I wonder if I ever walk along the exact path that someone else walked before, or if it is possible to find a patch of earth that has never been stepped on before at all.

I wonder if future alien archaeologists could identify one person's DNA, and then trace their life from one area to another to try to piece together their history (I also wonder why they would want to do that)

All of these thoughts are amplified when it is two-freaking-twenty-two in the morning, and you are waiting for lab results to come back so you can decide what to do with a patient in the ER.

Also, I wonder if the patient I just saw has the world's longest eyelashes (they don't)

Birthday Season

I love birthdays. I always have. I hope that I always will. I want to be the sort of woman who ages gracefully, accepting the gray hairs and laugh lines (okay, wrinkles) as they come. Mostly because I don't want to pay big bucks for fancy skin treatments or go get my hair colored every month. But 'graceful' is much nicer sounding than 'cheap and lazy.'

Anyhow, growing up, we had a 'birthday season' in our house. Starting in November, I had my sister's birthday, my mom's birthday, my other sister's birthday, Christmas, then my dad's birthday. I was the lone spring/summer birthday, all the way out in June. (Funnily enough, both my sisters spouses (or soon-to-be-spouse) have birthdays in that season as well) I enjoyed my singular birthday, but I did feel sort of left out of the 'season.'

Then I got married, and my husband has an April birthday, which totally trashed birthday season. I know, tragic, right? THEN, Marian was born in March, and the boys in May, and I realized - I built my very own Birthday Season! And, since my birthday was two days ago, Birthday Season is officially closed. Let's review, shall we?

March 2nd: Marian turned 3. On March 1st, Marian was 2. She knew what she liked, but could be dealt with in a fairly reasonable fashion, and was relatively easy to manage with some sleight of hand or turn of phrase. March 2nd, she turned 3. Oh my goodness gracious. Some sort of switch flipped in that little girl's head overnight, and she became obstinate, and opinionated and whiny. Oh, so whiny. I can handle the opinionated and demanding stuff. It kinda, sorta fills this mommy's heart with pride to see my daughter demand things her way. But I could do without the whining. As in, I'd like to find a way to permanently disable the part of her larynx that allows that particular frequency of sound to be emitted. Ah, well. She will not be three forever. And there are so many parts of three that are pretty awesome. Hopefully, I'll write more about that later...

Her birthday started like this:

Chocolate croissant and tears. An auspicious beginning.

Once the tears cleared, and we'd weathered another tantrum about the FIRST present she opened, we took our little princess to the nearest thing we have to a castle here in Sonoma County: Ledson Winery. Okay, yes, so we took our three year old to a winery. For her birthday. But we had her first birthday party at a brewery, so at least we're consistent! We sipped some wine, had a picnic and ran around like princesses!

Sticking to the theme, we abandoned all pretenses about her birthday being for her, and went to another winery. I am just now wondering if us taking Marian to wineries on her birthday is the root of all her whining. Whinery? If that's the case, then I need to take her to an anti-whinery. What could that be? A place where they make grapes? Vinegar? I'm going to have to ponder this...

We did have cake in the evening. She wanted a Star Wars Princess theme, so this is what she got:

Rapunzel wiht a light saber.

A few days after Marian's birthday, we had a little party for her. We stuck with the Star Wars Princess theme. (Heavy on the Star Wars) The kids had pool noodle light sabers and got to do some target practice by hitting bubbles. I was pretty proud of my Death Star cake pops. Definitely not professional level, but they were tasty! Someday, I think I could throw a Pinterest-worty party. Maybe. Probably not.

April 2nd: Marc turned 41. When Marc turned 40, I was uber pregnant. I had wanted to throw him some phenomenal type celebration, but my little parasites made that difficult. I figured I would plan something awesome for his 41st, like a "First Anniversary of Your Fortieth Birthday Blow Out Bash!" Well. Yeah. That didn't happen. Turns out having three kids takes a lot of time and energy. Maybe next year...? We did start out with a good breakfast - fewer tears than there were at Marian's birthday breakfast.

I spent an afternoon gathering the supplies for Marc's birthday meal - steak from Thistle Meats, the cake from Bovine Bakery and other ingredients from Petaluma Market. I felt very metropolitan walking around downtown Petaluma with my purchases. Petaluma is a small town, of about 50,000 people (okay 57,941 according to the 2010 census), but there are some pretty fancy places! You should come visit! I'll take you out to dinner! Unless I don't know you. Then, I suppose you should still come visit, but you'll have to fend for yourself for dinner.

We may have recycled Marian's candle for Marc's birthday. Because 4 - 1 = 3. And because I had no other candles. I would have picked some up at the Market, but fancy grocery stores charge a LOT for birthday candles. Doesn't Marian look so sweet helping Marc blow out the candles? That's one of those lovely parts of having a three year old that I mentioned earlier.

A few days after Marc's birthday, we drove to Sacramento for part 2 of his birthday. He went golfing with his buddy. I don't have any pictures of him golfing, but here is the boys playing with a ball:

I do have a picture he took while golfing. It appears to be a turkey. I don't think the turkey was invited, but turkeys are pretty rude like that. I hear. Marian helped Marc blow out the candles on another cake, again looking so sweet. Marian, not the cake. Actually, Marian AND the cake. The boys ended up their evening by getting their first taste of pizza! They weren't too sure what to make of it. Fear not, I am sure they will learn to love it. Because, I mean. Pizza.

Birthday season continues in May, for the boys' first birthday! I think this post is long enough for now, though, so I will have to write about their birthday (and mine) later!

Six Months Later: How I've Changed

The twins will be six months old in two days! To speak in broad cliches - I can't believe how quickly time has passed!

Day One:

Day...Six months minus three days:

I got an e-mail in June from a friend of mine who has 3 year old twins. She said that she didn't expect to hear back from me for many months, but wished me luck. The twins were a few weeks old at the time, and I thought, Oh, no! I will surely write back to her before months have passed! You guessed it: I still have not written back to her (Hi, Lindsey!)

There are so many things that I want to write about having twins. Mostly so that I can remember this phase when I am old and gray. It has been amazing and awful and crazy and challenging with moments of utter brilliance smattered in between long periods of hazy exhaustion. (Spell check tells me that "smattered" isn't a word, but I don't care. Take that, spell check!!)

So, in no particular order (and certainly not comprehensive), How I Have Changed in the Last Six Months:

Physically
Friends. Neighbors. Countrymen. You just don't recover from this:

Not quickly, anyway. While I never had abs of steel - more like abs of steel wool: strong but fluffy - now I have no abs at all. Seriously. Ask me to sit up from a supine position without using my arms or rolling to the side. It cannot be done. May as well ask me to touch my toes with straight legs or run a mile in under 10 minutes. Humanly impossible. Hmm. I may need to start going to the gym.

Mentally
One does not make it through medical school and residency without having at least a modicum of OCD and mental fortitude. With approximately 13,000 new words to learn plus tons of new concepts and about a billion other things (see how my numbers snowball from realistic to ludicrous? I love the drama.) you have to come up with a way of organizing all the stuff rattling around in your head. More like "all the stuff packed to bursting" in your head. There is no headroom for rattling in medical school. So you quickly learn some mad organizational skills to keep up with the mental gymnastics required.

Fast forward to about 4 years into your post-training life, and that modicum of OCD has drifted away, replaced by a fluid organizational scheme, that is a lot more flexible and mercurial (aka scattered).

Fast forward about 38 weeks more, and suddenly those organizational skills are needed again. Otherwise, you might find yourself saying "who pooped today? I know I've changed three poopy diapers. But whose were they?" all too often. Having twins has required a return to some of my mental gymnastics and ball keeping-in-the-air-ing that having one baby did not necessitate. Made all the harder by the constant screaming and lack of sleep.


Emotionally
Believe it or not, the most emotionally challenging aspect of the past six months is something that barely caused a blip on the emotional radar with Marian. Not to put too fine a point on it: I failed at nursing my twins.

Before they were born, I'd idly say, "Oh, well I had no problems breastfeeding Marian! I had plenty of milk! Feeding twins should be fine! And think of the calories I'll burn!!"

We did okay in the hospital.
We did okay for the first few days at home.
We did okay through their first check up.

Then they just nursed and cried and nursed and cried and didn't really sleep, so I didn't really sleep. I spent several nights trying to fall asleep in the chair with a baby on either side of me, on and off latching and sucking. It sucked (pun intended!), but I was determined. I could do it! I was doing it, gosh darn it! At their two week check up, they were both down a pound from birth weight. I was devastated.

I successfully fought off tears when I gave them their first bottle of formula.
I successfully fought off tears when they actually got some decent sleep for the first time ever.
I successfully fought off tears when I realized that they'd simply been hungry, not the fussy babies I thought we'd been blessed with.

But over the next few weeks of nursing and pumping and crying and mixing bottles and trying to use an SNS and crying and weighing pre- and post feeds and reading about breastfeeding and crying and taking all the supplements under the sun and crying, I finally accepted that we weren't going to have the happy little triad of tandem nursing that I had dreamed of. It was hard to give up, but was ultimately the best decision for the whole family. I still pump for them - I fall into a category of moms known as "exclusive pumpers." I like the "exclusive" title - I think it is the first time I've been included in anything exclusive! (and yes, I do have a birdhouse in my soul)

Vehicularly (another non-word, according to spell check)
I now feel comfortable driving an SUV. Never thought that would happen. I can't park to the right very well, but I can't do that in my Camry either.

Personally
Having any child can be rough on a relationship. Crazily more so when the babies come in multiples. Parenting three kids under the age of three is not easy. Marc and I rarely have time to utter more than a few words of a conversation before someone needs something. Some of our conversations are just grunts and gestures.
"Ugh?"
"Uh-huh."
"Oh."
Knowing head nod.

I see how he is with the kids, though, even when he is having an all-three-kids-have-been-screaming-at-me-all-day-and-all-I-want-is-to-bury-my-head-in-the-pillow-and-scream-myself sort of day. He is such a good dad, and seeing him with all our kids together gives me the good sort of tears, and makes me so happy to have him. And I really look forward to getting to know him again, and to having real life conversations when the kids are older!

Careerly - (seriously, spell check, I can't just turn any word into an adverb?)
I learned a LOT about breastfeeding during the first few months. I read every article I could find, I watched a ton of how-to videos, and I trialed every sort of galactogogue I could get my hands on. This has absolutely translated to my career.

One small thing that I have changed, that means SO so much to me as a mother, but meant nothing to me as a doctor - I no longer ask: "does your baby formula or breast feed?" Because the answer isn't always one or the other. I now ask "does your baby take formula, breast milk or both?" A simple change, but it acknowledges that there are different ways to feed babies.

There is so much emphasis put on breastfeeding, and I agree that it is the best food for babies to get - it is free, it is personalized to each baby and it doesn't require any dishes. But it is NOT always the best choice for the mom-baby pair. And it is NOT always easy. I get that now, in a way I never would have if I hadn't had these twins.

Grammatically
I have always overused exclamation points (see: the bulk of this post as well as every other post I've written ever.) It seems that after having two babies at one time (!), I have even more cause to exclaim things. Like: They are both crying! Sammy has four teeth! Tommy spit up on me! Again!

I have noticed recently, that one exclamation point is not enough. Since I exclaim so much at baseline, I now use two exclamation points for when I REALLY want to exclaim. Like:All three kids are asleep!! Sometimes, I even move to three exclamation points. It's bad, people. I may need an intervention. OR, I will start using El Rey.

Circadian-ly (I subverted spell check by adding a hyphen. I win!)
Never did I think that six consecutive hours of sleep in a row would feel like a vacation. Even during my ICU rotations I'd get the merciful days and weekends off. Babies don't give you days off. Stupid babies.

Perspectively
I still think having your first baby is a harder transition to make. Going from no children to one is an entire shift in everything in your life. A paradigm shift, one might say, if one wasn't afraid of sounding too pretentious.

Wanna go out to dinner? Vacation? Ice skating? What are you doing with the baby?
Want to watch a movie with lots of violence and blood and swears? Is it baby appropriate?
Have a hangover? Guess who doesn't!

Having twins is hard, but we had already been through a lot of this with Marian. The difference is that it is amplified now. It is not better. It is not worse. It is very different. It really has changed the way I look at things, though I find it hard to put in to words. We thought things were hard with Marian. But we didn't know how hard it could be. So, I guess, it has given me an understanding that things really always could be harder. And also that we can do more than we think we can.

I get asked/told a lot - "I don't know how you do it!" There isn't an answer to that non-question. You just do what you do, and hope that you get some decent human beings out of it!

And now: Pictures.

Pregnancy Retrospective: The First Ultrasound

As I mentioned in my last post, I was very excited to have a second child joining our family, and looked forward to life as a family of four. My pregnancy with Marian had been relatively uneventful, and I anticipated another uncomplicated pregnancy.

I met with my new OB for the first time around 8-9 weeks, and scheduled a nuchal translucency ultrasound for just over 11 weeks pregnant, on November 18, 2013.

I should back track a few weeks to mention that early on in pregnancy, like around 6 or 7 weeks, Marc had had a dream that we had two baby boys. When I was pregnant with Marian, he'd had a dream that we had two little mini girls running around, so I didn't think much of his twin dream. He insisted that this dream was different, however, because instead of two half-sized kids, there were two full sized babies. I laughed it off, and didn't think much more about it, though he did mention it several times, jokingly.

And, I should back track a few years to mention that I've always been somewhat fascinated with twins. I fully admit it, I am a starer. If I see two kids that might be twins, I stare at them. I blame The Parent Trap. Something about two Hayley Mills was just the ultimate of cool. My fascination just increased as I learned more about the science of genetics and the mystery of things like "twinspeak." (aka "idioglossia") I just think it is the coolest thing that there would be another person who has been with you, literally since the moment you came into existence. It doesn't appear that there is a term for fascination with twins, so allow me to coin the term: "Geminamania" I, Brenna, am a Geminimaniac. (Incidentally, I am also a Gemini)

Marc and I both liked the idea of having 2-3 children, but since I didn't have Marian until I was 33 years old, I told Marc that if he wanted three kids, he'd have to hope that I had twins the next time around. I even told several people that I thought I'd have twins the next time I got pregnant. I also frequently declare that I will win the lottery some day, and I sort of held the idea of having twins on par with the idea of actually winning the lottery.

So, despite Marc's dream, my fascination with twins, and my stated desire to actually have twins, I didn't really think it would happen to me.

Back to November 18, 2013.

The ultrasound tech in our office works evenings, so we went in for our appointment at 7pm. The nice tech led us back to the darkened ultrasound room. I reclined on the table and exposed my belly for some nice, chilly ultrasound gel. She put the probe on my lower abdomen.... and my heart skipped a beat.

As a pediatrician, I order ultrasounds on my patients frequently to look for things like hydronephrosis, rule out pyloric stenosis, or to rule out gall stones. I look at ultrasounds frequently, but my ability to actually interpret them is pretty much limited to "that looks like a pocket of fluid" or "that looks like some sort of organ" So, not a sophisticated knowledge of ultrasounds, but I know what sacs of fluid look like.

And when that probe hit my belly, I saw two sacs of fluid.

My brain started working overtime.

Two sacs. Two sacs? Is it supposed to look that way? I don't remember seeing that with Marian's ultrasounds. Maybe it is just the orientation of the probe? Could it be? No. No way. But what if?

All these thoughts are racing through my head for about 10 seconds as the tech moved the probe a bit, then lifted it up.

Tech: Is this your first ultrasound

Me (reality hitting): Yes

Marc (oblivious): Yep

Tech: Well, congratulations! You're having twins!

Me: You're kidding!

Marc: BAM!

Yes, my first reaction was to deny what my logical brain had already realized. And Marc's first reaction? To celebrate the accuracy of his dream. I still chuckle when I think about it!

The rest of the scan is a bit of a haze in my memory. I remember seeing two heartbeats and two placentas, but I was too dumbfounded to ask any questions.

We left the office, called various family members to tell them the news, and I made my first (and only) vague facebook post ever:

Finding out you are having twins is huge news. Probably in the top 5 pieces of news I have ever received in my life. Honestly, at this moment, I can't think of any other news that rivals the twin news. I think it is because most other big news I have received in life came with some sort of notice. Match Day, finding out Marian was a girl, getting proposed to, all those things came with preparation. The twins news (despite the foreshadowing mentioned above) came COMPLETELY out of the blue.

I have heard the process of finding out you are having multiples compared to the grieving process - you go through the same stages of Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. In my experience, I would have to agree with that. I didn't spend much time in the Anger phase, but I have certainly had periods of denial (lots of denial), bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

It is something I am still coming to terms with, even though these twins will be here in less than 117 hours!

Pregnancy Retrospective: Testing

As I enter my last week of ever being pregnant (unless I have a failed tubal ligation!), I find myself becoming nostalgic for my pregnancies past. I thought I'd take the time to write about it. Read if you like, I'm mostly doing this for my own benefit!

Want to turn a control freak into a completely crazy person? Make it take months for her to get pregnant. Trying to get pregnant with Marian was the MOST stressful thing I have ever been through in my life.

Got a big test to take? I can study for that.
A presentation to give? I can practice.
Try to find a job after residency? Keep applying and interviewing until I find the right fit.
A patient is deteriorating rapidly? That's why I went to school for so long, and have a good team of people to work with.
Sky dive? Been there, done that.
Try to get pregnant? No control.

Obviously, there are SOME things you can control while trying to get pregnant. But when it comes down to it, the magical inner workings of the body are not under my direct supervision. Was there something I could control (bonus points if it is something I'm really good at)? Testing. Did you know you can buy a pack of 50 pregnancy tests for $18.99? Well, you can. And I did. The earliest pregnancy tests on the market claim to give positive results up to 5 days before your missed period, so that was when I would start testing. And I would keep testing every day after that. Sometimes twice a day.

These tests are little, the testing surface can be uneven, and it is really easy to make yourself see faint lines in them. I would spend all day scrutinizing that morning's test, looking at in in different lighting and at different angles, squinting at it forever, trying to figure out if there was a second line there or not. Like I said, I'm good at tests. Except I kept failing these particular tests! I went through not-quite 50 in about 5-6 months.

It ended up taking us about seven months to get pregnant. Seven months during which the obsessive part of my personality became extreme and scary (thankfully mostly self-directed). And that was without entering the world of infertility treatments. I ultimately did a month of acupuncture as a soft 'intro' for possibly starting infertility treatments. Whether it was just timing in general, or the acupuncture, I finally got pregnant! My last period before I finally got my positive pregnancy test was on May 23, 2011.

When we decided to try for baby #2, I did not want to become that crazy person again.

I determined that I was happy to be a mother, and would be perfectly content with only one child if necessary. I did have a few of the "internet cheapie" pregnancy tests left, and I did use them (hey, hard to drop old habits!), but I mostly made myself stick with the expensive pregnancy tests.

We started trying in about June of 2013. Remarkably, I did feel much calmer the second time around, and not nearly so devastated each month when "Aunt Flo" arrived.

Late in September, I started feeling pregnant. My symptoms come early - nausea and exhaustion. I was cautiously optimistic, but put off testing because Marc and I were about to have our first night away from Marian ever for a wedding! A wedding with wine! My cycle was due to start the day before the wedding, but I didn't test. The crazy, obsessive part of my being was tapping on my shoulder, but the new, zen-like Mother of a Toddler was stronger.

We had a great time at the wedding, though I was tired and mildly nauseated. I enjoyed a grand total of about half a glass of wine. After the wedding, Marc and I attempted to walk around San Francisco for a while, but I was exhausted, so we were asleep pretty early.

The next morning, I used my fancy test, and there it was - no squinting or second guessing or going crazy: PREGNANT.

September 29, 2013

My very first response was actually a bit of sadness. I had grown so used to having Marian as an only child, and had worked so hard to accept that as a possible way of life, that the thought of another child entering the family made me a bit sad for her. I got over that quickly, however, and was very excited to have another child on the way.

For exactly seven weeks and one day, I was excited for that second child. Then on November 18th, we had our first ultrasound and my world changed forever!

To be continued...

Day 804: It Has Been A While

Since I last posted, Marian has mastered head control! And crawling, walking, running, hopping, talking, singing, screaming and driving her mother crazy. Now that we are expecting babies #2 AND #3, I figured I would start posting again. Those first few months are so exciting and with so many changes, so keep your eyes open for semi-regularish updates again.

Day 89: Head Control

Marian's head control is getting better every day! She can sit in the Boppy chair for a few minutes at a time before she starts to slump over. She loves being where the action is, and seems to really like sitting up so she can see everything.

She is also getting so much bigger! Her cheeks look chubbier (and cuter) every day as well.  Her nose is red in the picture because I had just wiped it after she had a snotty sneeze :)

Day 78: To Grandmother's House We Go!

11 weeks old and she has already conquered her first plane trip! I was 7 before I flew anywhere (it was to Iowa with my dad and I was SO excited).  And all the way through college, I could actually list every flight I had ever taken.  That has long passed, of course! And I am sure that by the time Marian is 7 years old she will have flown many more times.

She did great today - asleep before we took off and slept the whole way, even through landing!

She is very happy to be visiting the family now!

Day 70: Communication

So, it has taken 10 weeks, but I am finally starting to get a grip on what Marian needs when she cries.  For the longest time, every time she made a peep, I would feed her.  Or Marc would change her diaper.  Then, later, I'd have to change her outfit after she spit up (and Marc would take out the garbage full of semi-dirty diapers).

But, now, I can tell when she is bored or lonely - she does a sort of squawky yell, like "pay attention to me!"  And when she is tired, she gets whiny and shakes her head back and forth, like "leave me alone!".  And when she is hungry, she turns into ANGRY BABY!, which clearly means, "FEED ME!"  Dirty diaper falls somewhere in between tired and hungry.

And when she is happy, she smiles! And is starting to laugh! I love that!  The smiles aren't very sustained, so it is hard to catch on camera, but they are certainly becoming more numerous.  And she is babbling and cooing more, as well.  I realize these are all normal baby things to do (including the cries), but I totally feel like my baby is a genius!

Day 67: Wild Things

We hope Marian loves reading as much as we do.  Today we read her Where the Wild Things Are in honor of Maurice Sendak. Such a great book!

Marian made a monster face in honor of it. Then proceeded to have a wild rumpus!

Day 65: My Girls

Just enjoying my cute baby and cat today!