Dear Nora,

Wonder of all wonders...you're two months old already! Sometimes I have to think about it for a minute because there's just no way you're eight weeks old. This past week was a rough one for all of us...you in particular. There were two days that we had to feed you formula while I was at work since there wasn't enough pumped milk. Boy was that an unfortunate thing. We were suddenly thrown back to the first few days when we came home from the hospital. You had a constant belly ache. You were awake until three or four in the morning for four days in a row. You didn't poopie for five days.

On the nights you wouldn't go to sleep, your Daddy and I spent hours driving you around town hoping you'd fall asleep in your car seat. We quickly narrowed it down to an exact science. We'd get you tucked into your car seat...and head out...at midnight...2 AM...3 AM...once even at 4:30 AM while it was freezing rain out side. We know the bumpiest, baby-sleep-friendly roads in town. Then, when you had been quiet for at least a half an hour we would return home. Daddy would get you out of the car...I unlocked the door...he took you straight to your crib...where you slept in your car seat. We had such a sense of accomplishment if we made it all the way to the crib before you woke up...silently high-fiving each other...only to be crushed back to reality when you sneezed yourself awake. I cringe at the thought of how much money we spent on gas this week just driving you around to put you to sleep. Last night we gave you a suppository. You were a different baby within fifteen minutes. Daddy didn't even get your diaper back on and you were pooping...everywhere. But you know what? Neither of us minded. "Let her poop...I don't care where it goes...at least she's pooping." Once you were done expelling the world's most stinky poop, you were fine. Thankfully.

We had you at the doctor this week for a lab work follow up. You weighed in at a whopping 12 pounds! We don't have to worry about you going hungry, that's for sure! The reason had to follow up on your lab work is that you failed one of your newborn screenings. Your doctor wants us to take you to a specialist. There's a metabolic disorder that you were tested for...they told us you have it...then they called the next day to say they think you're just a carrier for the disorder and that you don't actually have it. Of course I had ample time to freak out and worry that you would have speech and learning troubles in the time between when we left the office and when they called back. If you do have it we'll have to keep you on a strict diet and you'll be fine. We go see the specialist doctor on the 8th of March...hopefully the results of their tests won't take too long.

You've started getting more vocal this week, too. It's funny because you used to just "ooo" and "ahh"...now your vocabulary includes "aye aye aye" and "ya ya ya". You're pretty loud sometimes, but as long as they're happy noises no one seems to mind! You like to talk back and forth with your Daddy and me. We play this fun game where you make a noise and we mimic it back to you. You seem to like that...and when you stop liking it we can tell because your happy baby noises turn into pissed off baby cries. You definitely have a temper, Little One. I'm sure you get that from your Daddy and me, both.

We found the most wonderful thing at WalMart this week. A new paci. One that you actually like. We've tried several different sizes and brands...only to find that the mere idea of a paci pissed you off. After a few nights of having a tummy ache and only wanting to console yourself by sucking on my boobie, I set out in search of a Mommy substitute. Thank my lucky stars I found one you'll take. In fact, last night you fell asleep with your new paci and slept from midnight until 8:45 this morning. Now that's real sleep! I think we're going to get a few cases of these wonderful pacis...I don't ever want to be without one...for both of our sakes...

Love,
Mommy

Posted by Courtney at 8:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Nora,

This past week you celebrated your first Valentine's Day...along with your first Daytona 500. You seemed to enjoy the race...you sat propped up watching the cars go around...all dolled up in your raceday gear.

I'm trying to make you a Jeff Gordon and Jimmie Johnson fan while your Daddy would prefer that you like Tony Stewart. You'll probably piss us both off and end up liking Junior or Harvick. I guess it'll be fine for you to exhibit your independence...you'll just have to watch the race at someone else's house if you're cheering for one of them! In the meantime, Daddy and I will probably continue to try and influence you to like each of our drivers...just keep in mind...I'm the one that feeds you...

This week I've also noticed that you've started to grow on me a little more. The first weeks of your life were kinda like a survival of the fittest type of situation...as the weeks pass, though, you're becoming more enjoyable. At first it was simply feed you, change you, and beg you to go back to sleep. Now I spend quite a bit of time watching you in awe...you're getting so big...and so beautiful. I am still amazed that you're a real, live person...that we've managed to keep healthy, fed, and clothed for seven whole weeks now. You were easier to care for before you were born...but much more fun to care for now...even when you are crapping in the car in the parking lot.

You smile and coo all the time now...sounding almost like you're carrying on a conversation already. Your Daddy says that once you start talking you're never going to stop...I think he's probably right. The mobile on your crib is a source of interest for you...it has two teddy bears on it...it's supposed to have three but one of them got lost in the closet before we put it together. I know it's in there somewhere...unless the contents of the closet ate it. While we joke that your mobile is a little ghetto since it's missing a bear, you don't seem to mind one bit. You just love talking to Juan and Jacques...I'm not sure how you'll pronounce Jacques but I guess we'll cross that bear when we come to it.

I went back to work this week. Thank God it's only half days because I spend a lot of time missing you. I think it's good for you to have some one on one Daddy time, though, too. He's taken you for a few car rides...probably letting you listen to that awful jazz music that seems to quiet you right down...don't worry, it puts me to sleep every time, too. I didn't know that I'd miss you as much as I do when we're not together...for this reason I hope you'll be understanding of the fact that I plan to never let you leave the house alone...we're talking no school, no dates, no going to college, no moving out. I'm sure you think this is unrealistic...well just talk to your father about dating...see if he sides with you or me...

I love you, My Girlie. I love every bit of you. Your huge blue eyes. Your beautiful little nose. Your sparse newborn hair that we cover up with a hat most of the time. Your infectious, toothless grin. Your chubby, dimpled cheeks. Your stinky, dirty hands. Your super long feet. Your big toes that look just like my big toes. Head to toe you are perfect. You are absolutely George-ous.

Love,
Mommy

Posted by Courtney at 2:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Mom about baby crying in stroller: Ugh, I gotta go feed him.
Friend: You want me to do it?
Mom: Um, I breastfeed.
Friend: I could give it a whirl.

--Washington Square Park

Posted by Courtney at 4:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The days after Larry was arrested were horrible. I was confused, hurt, and worried. By day two of being in jail he had admitted to me that he had been using drugs again. I felt stupid that I hadn't figured out that that was what was going on. I should've noticed, right? I knew he had problems with drugs...how could I have missed the signs? Did I "know" but not want to face that this could be happening? I was also angry...angry that he had lied to me...angry that we were going to have to sell the house where I had just done a nursery for Nora...angry that there would be things coming up that I'd have to go through alone because he was in jail with a $3000 bond required to get him out. The first day after his arrest I went back to work...back to where we both worked...the business my grandparents owned...the business where Larry was when he was arrested...back to face everyone we worked with. For a moment I thought, "I'm sure they'll be talking behind my back about what happened...speculating about what was going on..." What got me through that day and many days to come was reminding myself that I had the best husband on the planet...when he wasn't using drugs. There was a front page news article and a search warrant executed on our house and car. This hoopla was going on while I was trying to pack up our home...move back in with my parents...go to work and go visit Larry. Without help from both of our families I don't know how I could have got everything done. I was especially touched by the outpouring of help from his family. Here he was in jail and I was six months pregnant...his siblings and parents called to check on me several times. They also all came over to help me pack up our house...they packed...they loaded boxes...they moved our things to storage. I told my mom that I couldn't believe how much they were helping...that they were his family and here they were helping me...I wasn't their problem. This really made me feel like I was their family, too.

I could tell the difference in Larry's demeanor by the second day of jail. His eyes were clearer. He started looking healthy again...despite the terrible jail food. He was the old Larry again...the one I met and fell in love with only four years before. I think he spent more time in jail worrying about me than anything else. He'd ask my mom how I was "really" doing when he called. He asked me several times a day when we talked if I was going to leave him. Was I sure I'd stick around? What if it meant a five year sentence? I told him he didn't have to keep asking because I wasn't going anywhere...I think he liked the reassurance that came from hearing it. Leaving was never an option...despite people asking me...and I'm sure people thought that I should leave him. A good friend of mine put it best when she said, "People have to understand that this isn't a casual high school boyfriend...that this is your husband...that you two are having a child..." Our wedding vows didn't say "til death or a relapse do you part".

With very generous help from my Grandfather I was able to retain a lawyer for Larry and on the eighth day that he was in jail, I bailed him out. He was anxious to start getting treatment once the initial detox was complete and that's impossible while in jail, so getting him out gave him a chance to start getting help. At first I wasn't too keen on the idea of bailing him out. While he was in jail he didn't have access to drugs. It gave me peace of mind to know that he couldn't hurt himself anymore. Strange as it sounds, the days he was in jail I felt such relief. I was relieved that I knew what had been going on...relieved that he could start getting help.

He started an outpatient drug rehab program along with going to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Even though alcohol isn't his drug of choice the meetings are very helpful...drugs and alcohol both effect the body the same way so it's easy enough to substitute "drugs" whenever someone says "drink" at the meetings...the method of staying sober applies the same to drugs as it does to alcohol. He has been going to meetings and therapy regularly. The steps to recovery that he's following are helping daily to keep him clean.

Every day that we've had since he's been out of jail has been worth every borrowed penny to get him out and get him help. He was able to see Nora's birth. He has been able to get to know her and help out with her. He has been able to be there for both of us. These are things he would not have been able to do had he not been arrested. It took something that major for him to seek help. He didn't feel like he could ask for help. He didn't feel like he could tell me. He thought that he had messed up his one chance to be clean and that he wouldn't get another shot. Addiction is a powerful thing that takes over the life and mind of the addict. Logic does not apply. While it may be easy for a non-addict to say, "he had a baby on the way, why didn't he stop using?", that's just not how addiction works. Having a house...having a job...having a wife...having a baby on the way...none of that makes an addict stop using. It takes willingness to work a recovery program...help from a Higher Power...and daily hard work including meditation and prayer.

Larry entered a plea to the judge last week. It is a plea to lesser charges than what he was originally arrested on. It is a plea that carries a maximum sentence of eighteen months in prison. It is a plea that also does not carry a requirement of prison time at all. He is at the judge's mercy...he could receive probation...he could receive drug court...he could receive a community based corrections facility that focuses on recovery...he could receive time in the county jail...or he could receive prison time up to eighteen months. I'm thankful that prison time is all that's going to happen because while losing him for up to eighteen months is a scary prospect...losing him to his drug addiction would have been permanent...

Posted by Courtney at 8:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

to the one that empties the trash can full of dirty diapers

to the one that makes me feel beautiful

to the one that does the laundry

to the one that makes me laugh

to the one that lets me run the remote control

to the one that drives me to work when it's snowy

to the one that rubs my feet...even when he doesn't want to

to the one that sings along to the radio with me

to the one that loves me

to the one that I love

Happy Valentine's Day, Sweetheart!

Posted by Courtney at 8:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Nora,

This week you started sleeping more like a human being and less like an evil non-sleeping monster. You have been sleeping in four or five hour stretches almost every night...and it's been glorious. There have even been times where you've slept for six or seven hours...although that's only when you're in your carseat. Your Daddy said that the person who makes a crib that's exactly like a carseat will be rich. We have had a few occasions where you were inconsolable that we resorted to taking you out on purpose...just so you'd sleep for a while when we got back home. Saturday night, for instance, we needed to get you some wipes. Did we go two blocks away to the grocery store? Oh no. We went to WalMart...not our WalMart...the one that's a half hour away.

We went to see your doctor this week, too. He wanted us to come back in to go over a test result from one of your birth screenings. Of course I spent much of the time up to the appointment freaking out that something was terribly wrong...they don't have you come in the office for good news, right? Well yes and no. There was a part of a blood test that you failed...but only barely...so they wanted to redo the test to make sure you don't have this strange freakish hard to pronounce condition. We only have to wait two more weeks to get the results. The doctor is pretty sure you're fine because you were only under the standard by two points...he said not to worry. The worst part of this whole thing is that we had to take you to the hospital to get your blood drawn so they could retest you. They didn't just stick your heel this time. They had to hold you down...put on the arm strap thing...and draw it out of your little vein in your elbow. I think it was just as traumatic for you as it was for me...

I had to go back to work today. Surprisingly this wasn't as hard as I thought it would be...until I got to work. Then I sat there thinking about you. Were you awake? Were you hungry? Were you wondering where I was? Were you being a big pain in your Daddy's behind? Even though I left you in his completely capable hands I found myself worrying about how you were doing. I was at my desk for a half hour before I called to check in. Today's four hour separation is the longest we've been apart since you were born...and I was pretty happy when you wanted to nurse when I came home...it was nice to reconnect with you after being away...

Love,
Mommy

Posted by Courtney at 3:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

My husband is a drug addict. I'm telling you this for two reasons. One, in hopes that our story will help someone else who has a loved one suffering from addiction or alcoholism. Secondly, writing this blog has become somewhat therapeutic and I feel strange eliminating a part of my life when writing. This should also help explain this post where I referenced an ongoing personal situation and then never elaborated.

Larry has had trouble with an addiction to prescription pain killers since he was a teenager. When we met he was completely honest with me about his situation...in fact he told me about his addiction problems within the first two weeks of our dating. At that time he had been clean for a year and a half. A few years into our marriage he had some back trouble and was given pain medicine that caused him to relapse. I was unaware of his renewed struggle with the medicines he was prescribed. At the time of his relapse he had been clean for six years.

He began to have blackouts from taking too many pills. The way he acted during those blackouts was the complete opposite of how I had ever seen him. Things in our life were a little more stressful than usual when he began using again. Because of this, I thought he was not sleeping well from the stress and that he was suffering from severe sleep deprivation. I took him to several doctors during this time including a psychiatrist and a sleep doctor. One aspect of addiction is the addict's tendency to lie...so while he knew he was having blackouts, this was not information I was privy to.

There was a point where he was "acting strange" (a blackout) that I reached the end of my rope. He was uncontrollable, rude, and incapable of making rational decisions. He thought he was able to drive...which he was not. He would leave the house and end up somewhere and not remember getting there. At one point he drove the car until it ran out of gas an hour away from home at 10 o'clock at night...all because he was high on pain medicines and unable to think clearly. This is the night that he received a $90 speeding ticket...that he has no recollection of getting. This is also the night that I took him to the hospital and had him admitted to the psychiatric ward. Keep in mind that I had no idea what was causing him to act this way. It was unsafe for him to drive. He was a danger to himself and others. He would not listen to reason. All I knew was that he was acting very strange.

Leaving him at the hospital that night is the hardest thing I've ever done. I got the papers filled out all the while he sat in a chair not even knowing what day of the week it was or where we were at. When it was time for me to leave he began to figure out that they wanted to keep him there. That is not something he wanted to do because he thought he was fine. He had to be restrained and given sedatives while I literally snuck out the locked door. I left the hospital in tears. I didn't want to leave him there. I didn't want him to be mad when he woke up and figured out what I had done. It had just become too much for me to handle and I felt like I had no choice but to take him somewhere where I knew he couldn't accidentally hurt himself or someone else.

Shortly after his stay in the psychiatric ward things calmed down. These "sleep episodes" became more spaced out. Instead of once a week it would happen every other week. There came another time that I had him admitted to the hospital again...about two months after the first time. Once again he was discharged from the hospital with no diagnosis. It seemed that his situation was unexplainable. The doctors did every test under the sun including checking for brain tumors. If he slept for a few hours he would wake up feeling fine...it seemed like sleeping fixed the problem...when in reality sleeping for a few hours at the hospital cured him because the drugs would leave his system and he had no way of getting more while he was there.

After the second hospital discharge things seemed to return to normal. There were no more strange episodes. He started acting like himself again. We purchased a home. We got a dog. I got pregnant. Things were apparently getting better...or so it seemed to me. I later found out that he was trying to quit on his own and was using less frequently...that he felt he couldn't ask for help...that he had messed up his one chance at sobriety and that this was it for him. Throughout the times he was acting abnormal I questioned whether he was using again. I was, of course, told that he was not...that things were fine.

About three months after we purchased our home he began having problems again. His depression was getting out of hand. He had anxiety attacks. He started blacking out again. He was missing work. I was stressing about how we were going to afford to keep the house and how he would keep his job with all the work he was missing. I'm sure the stress of that made what he was going through even worse. We were fighting much of the time...I was pissed that he wasn't going to work...that he had withdrawn from our marriage...that he seemed uninterested in things relating to my pregnancy...that he couldn't stay awake and would spend almost every evening after work and the entire weekend in bed. It was a terrible time. It was a time that I often wondered how we were going to make it. I've heard the saying that God never gives you more than you can handle...daily I was wondering why the hell he trusted me to handle so much because I just didn't see how I could.

This whole situation came to a head when Larry entered two homes in search of prescription medicines. It was daylight and no one was home at either residence. At the second home, however, the owner came home to find Larry inside. He called the police and Larry was later arrested. At this point I was six months pregnant with Nora and unable to wrap my mind around what was going on. My husband was in jail. I had to list and sell our home. I had to move back in with my parents. We were having a baby in three short months. To say it was overwhelming is an understatement. This takes you up to when he was arrested in September of 06. I will post Part 2 of the story in the near future...Part 2 will be less dark and dreary than Part 1 has been...believe it or not things actually got better after the arrest...

Posted by Courtney at 10:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I intended to compose an eloquent posting to pass on the following information, but there's no long drawn out way to say this...I'm no longer a Stampin' Up! demonstrator. A few months before Nora was born preparing for workshops became more of a chore than the fun it used to be. I always said that when being a demo became more work than fun that would be the time to reevaluate whether I should continue being a demonstrator. Add that to the fact that I knew I'd be super busy once Nora arrived, and I came to the conclusion that this would be the point to discontinue my demonstratorship. I thoroughly enjoyed being a demo and may rejoin the Stampin' Up! demo family in the future, but for now I've had to put it to rest. As horrible as it sounds, I've only picked up a stamp once since before Thanksgiving...at that was at a workshop this past weekend.

In an effort to make some space for Nora's stuff I have listed 36 stamp sets on the Bay. Some are sets that were purchased mostly to demo with...a few sets are retired...many of them are close to other sets I already have. I'm including a link to the auction below if you are interested in purchasing them it will direct you to the listing.

EBAY STAMP SET LISTING LINK:
Ebay Listing

I will continue to stamp once Nora is on a better schedule and will be uploading samples as I do them...it may still be a little while...but I am definitely still a stamper...just a stamper on hiatus right now...

Posted by Courtney at 1:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dear Nora,

This week you've been smiling and cooing much more. I'm positive now that it's because you want to smile and not because you have gas. Of course you smile for your Daddy all day long...and will occasionally smile for me when he's not around. Being typical parents of a newborn we have a half a million photos of you smiling...even if it's 2:30 am when you're doing it...we'll bust out the camera and get a good seven or eight shots of the one smile you're exhibiting.

The other thing that happened this week is that I started to notice how much you're changing and growing...the first few weeks you looked the same to me. Now I can see your little round baby nose filling out a little...and you're definitely getting bigger. There are already outfits that have had to be retired to the too small box because you're getting longer.

This week we introduced you to the Daddy Bath. This is the single most intelligent thing we've done as parents thus far. You hated your baby bath. I can't figure out why exactly. I know I enjoy bathing in two inches of lukewarm water in the cold kitchen. Why did you not enjoy that? Now you get a bath with Daddy in the big bath tub. He gets in the bath and holds you while I suds you up. You couldn't be happier than when you're in there. Maybe it reminds you of before you were born...I'm not sure...but I know that you will not get a bath any other way for at least the next thirty years...or until you reach the age where it is no longer appropriate to bathe with your father...whichever comes last.

Did I mention you started smiling?!

Oh yeah...and...this week...you've been a smilin' fool...

Alright that was the last smiling one...for this entry...

You've discovered the closet in our bedroom and you're mystified by it. We keep the closet light on at night so we can see you. It's a bit of a ghetto night light...but it works. You crane your neck around at very unnatural angles to get a glimpse of the magic closet...and you'll stare off into the closet as long as we'll hold you there. Every time you wake up you have to double check and make sure it's still there...and still lit up. I'm not sure how long this will capture your attention, but for now it's just wonderful to watch as you thoughtfully explore the smallest, messiest closet in town. At least you're easily amused...the closet light...the monkeys on your mobile...Piglet on your swing...your Daddy talking to you...these are the things that you absolutely love...

Love,
Mommy

Posted by Courtney at 8:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Before Nora was born, sleeping through the night meant sleeping from 10pm until 9am.

Since Nora was born, sleeping through the night means sleeping from midnight until 6am.

The sad part? I'm just as happy with six hours as I was with eleven hours.

Posted by Courtney at 11:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)