Ambergontrail – Trying to get through life without dying of dysentery

We went to a wonderful memorial for a wonderful man early in August.  It was in the marina, and it was more of a celebration of life than a memorial. It was a great way to remember a fantastic man, and a perfect day, too, weather-wise.

Dad took a lot of pictures of the celebration, and managed to get quite a few of Piper!

It’s amazing how much she has grown!

Well, the time has come. We are leaving our big office, and moving across the street to a smaller- while nicer- office suite. An office without inside offices, only 3/4 high walls. An office with no doors to close in case I want to nurse a new baby, an office where I’m not sure Piper would be okay spending an entire workday. Although I had asked my boss if Piper would be wanted there, and he’d quickly answered, “Yes!”, I know as her mother that too much exposure to Piper- in one room- if you aren’t as enamored with her as I am- can be overkill.

Thus begins Piper’s new life with Grandma caring for her three days a week. While I’ll still take her in Monday and Friday (Mondays I worry about- they can be hectic), this means the office will have fewer days spent with her. It’s the best for Piper, since she gets out and about with Grandma, in her jogging stroller (which she has JUST realized is awesome- Piper, that is).

I’m sad about leaving her behind, but it enables me to get SO much work done. I’m also sad about the move. I loved this office- this was the very first “real” job (at a desk, with good insurance and a steady schedule) I ever had, the first office I reported to. I nursed my first broken heart in this office, began dating Paul in this office, moved out of my parents’ house while working here.  I got engaged while in this office, and got accepted to be a Bee in this office.

I planned my wedding here, came home from my honeymoon to this office, and spent the year trying to conceive while coming to work here every day. Then, I got to be pregnant in this office- napping in the big green chair in my boss’ office, snacking on all sorts of things while working at this desk. Then, I said a solemn and teary goodbye to this office when I left that November 23rd to be induced.

When I returned that January 3rd, a changed person, I carried my six week old in my arms. I took her on a tour of what would be her home for the next 20 months. I nursed her for 15.5 months in the back room! Piper sat up here, laughed here, crawled here for the first time. REALLY crawled, a series of quick movements that were unmistakeable. Then, she stood up on her own, unassisted here, shocking me with her new talent. Then, she took her first steps in this office. Not the first time she walked, but her first few steps were here, and luckily I was able to film it.

I never imagined I would be so sad, leaving this office- because I’m not even leaving friends/neighbors! We’re literally moving across the street. All the restaurants are the same, all the people are the same (just no longer next door), and the commute will still be the same.

Yet, it’s as if things are coming to a close for us, Piper and I. I’ve made a few appointments to view preschools for next year (which seems SO far off, but she’ll be two in three months, so it’s perfect timing, I’ve been told), and Piper is just getting so interested in the outside world that I am a little sad knowing my baby is well and truly gone. I have a little girl with all her teeth, who loves to drink from a cup, and whose favorite food is the dino shaped nuggets.

Yesterday I boxed up all of Piper’s toys, books, booster seat and diaper changing paraphernalia as we left. Piper kept coming over to pull a book out to show my dad, or to give her “baby” (a Jellicat giraffe my friend Tricia gave me when I was pregnant) a squeeze. As I saw her running around (running! My baby is RUNNING!) the mostly empty office (aside from our workspaces that will remain up until the very last minute), I began to think about Piper’s first day here, when she looked like this:

Six Weeks Old! Boy, I loved that onesie.

And then, seemingly overnight, she turned into this girl here.

Playing on the empty shelves in the copy room, with a sticker on her forehead.

By the way, it’s SUCH a bad idea to look through old photos of your baby while feeling unbelievably nostalgic and particularly weepy. Also: I love all of my friends so much, all of you who commented on the pictures I posted of Piper from day one. I love you all.

So, as my friend Laura told me to do, I took a few pictures of Piper in the office, a snippet of a video of her playing with my dad and her big beach ball. And we left, Piper leading the pack, running toward the elevator- the last time she’ll be in an elevator in a long time (we never go anywhere with one, and our new office doesn’t have one), never once looking back. I teared up then, because I felt like we were leaving her babyhood behind in a way (silly, I know). I wanted to say, “Piper, say goodbye to the office! Say goodbye to the bathrooms!” but I knew it was silly, because she likely wouldn’t remember them anyway, even though I know she has a pretty great memory for places and things like that.

Then I got sad, wondering if she’ll miss the old office, going downstairs to check the mail every day together, hand in hand. Piper spent the first two years of her life in this office, in fact, she likely spent more time here than anywhere else in her life up to now, she’s definitely eaten more meals here than anywhere else.

I’ve always maintained that I’m horrible with change, and well, this is another instance of that. It’s like I’d be okay with her growing older and changing, as long as EVERYTHING ELSE stays the same. But no, nothing ever stays the same, does it?

Bye-bye, Babyhood. Hello to the next chapter in Piper’s life- outside of the office.

I’m super anxious to start driving. In my head, I imagine so many problems automatically getting easier once I get behind that wheel- namely the “Mom watching Piper” situation as well as “Having a driver’s license before I get preg again”. Oh, what’s that? I’m putting TTC on hold for a few reasons? Yeah, I’ll post about that soon.

Anyway, since I’ve received my permit in May, I have been behind the wheel a startling ZERO times. That would be 0. Zip. Zilch (why do all words to do with 0 start with Z? That’s weird.). Nada. None. Nerp. Never.

Yeah.

And it’s not even MY fault, really! Well, I mean, the main reason is possibly MY fault, but it’s not what you’re thinking. Nope. it’s not the fear of the open road that gets me. It’s the fear of an inexperienced driver toting along the most important person in her life in the backseat. Yep. I’m afraid of driving with Piper in the car, and since I would prefer to head out in the early mornings (since Piper wakes us all at the crack of DAWN, I’m awake then), there is no one available to watch the baby. I suppose I could change my thinking and have Paul drive us all to drop her off at someone’s house while I take a little spin around the neighborhood, but there doesn’t seem to be TIME for all of that! Workdays are out because I tend to get home around 5, Paul gets home after 6, and Piper gets dinner at 6:30, bath at 7, mellowing out at 7:30, bed at 8. There is not one minute of time to spare on weekdays. It BLOWS.

Unless I can get out of work early, have someone watch Piper while I hire a driver’s instructor to pick me up, it’s weekends.  And quickly the time for our weekends to be open is going away, Paul has football season starting, which means games every weekend. Sigh. This is killing me. I just want to DRIVE!!

Piper’s godmother Tina (Of Tina dela Rosa Photography) came by for a quick visit while she was back home for a wedding. As is the norm, she snapped a few pictures of Piper.

First, here are some shots she’s taken over the course of Piper’s life.

Four Weeks Old (exactly!!)

See more of that time at Tina’s blog, here!

Then, we saw Tina a few months later, Piper was about 4 months old, this is when we asked her to be Piper’s godmother.

(she was in my scarf, on my lap)

Then, we saw Tina again at Christmas after Piper turned a year!

Tina sent us some pics she took last week- with the HARDEST BABY TO PHOTOGRAPH EVER. Piper would NOT sit still!

I hope I’m keeping my promise of posting more pictures of Piper now?

Your heart makes.

This song came on my Pandora RIGHT NOW. Right as I was starting to tear up while reading about new pregnancy announcements and shopping for friends’ babies due soon, and glancing at pictures of Piper taken last week, oh how big she is.

Another song was playing at the time. I didn’t even TOUCH the Pandora as it was playing on my Nook (seriously, I’m eating lunch, I don’t want to get shit on my Nook).  I was rubbing my face, trying to will the tears away, to will away the jealousy I was feeling, and the heartsickness I was experiencing as I ate my spaghetti. I was thinking to myself, “Oh, I want a baby so bad. I do, so much.” Then, the song I was listening to (Ingrid Michelson- I think that’s how you spell it) stopped, and I began to hear the opening notes of “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes”.

I dropped my hands from my face, and said, “What the hell?”  A sign from the Disney Gods.

Foolishly, I had thought that buying gifts for friends who are expecting would help me with this constant urge for Baby Dos. Kind of a salve on the burn that I am feeling so much of the time.

Yeah well, I was stupid. Looking at all these clothes and blankets, socks and hats is KILLING ME.  I want a baby. I WANT A BABY. I know sooo many people who see babies squalling and it just gives them chills. They’re terrified. They hear that sound and panic. It’s completely normal, of course. However, I hear that sound, and my stomach hurts. I want to hold that baby. I want to cuddle it, caress the cheek, change the miniscule diapers. Yeah, I want to change DIAPERS.

I long to feel nauseous with morning sickness. I miss gagging when I brushed my teeth. I want to have cravings for salads and fruit again. I constantly remember needing help getting in and out of bed, as well as help putting on my shoes and having them tied.  Then there are the good things about pregnancy, feeling movements, seeing that tiny heart flickering and then HEARING it! Knowing you are growing a tiny HUMAN! The excitement of finding out the sex (for those of us who do), thinking of names… imagining personalities and appearances.

This need fills me up daily, and I’m getting tired of it. I know why we’re waiting. I understand the specifics of it. I understand.

I don’t want to.

Then there is the selflessness I have to have as a parent. I want Piper to have everything she can right now. Piper needs to come first. We need to put our small family of three and a Woof before planning another one. Cool beans.

I know our next child will be our last. As in, snip snip, no more Felix babies, no matter how hard I beg and plead, and no matter how cute they are. So, knowing that means I’ll likely be a complete mess when I get pregnant. I can’t imagine never getting to experience pregnancy again. I just can’t. But barring a lottery win, I am very much aware that this is not something up for discussion, and that’s something I’ve got to be okay with. And I’m hoping that it’s easier to achieve than putting off TTC when your entire soul is ready.

I know we’re good parents. I know Piper is happy, healthy (seriously, she’s had two colds in her 20.5 months of life), and smart smart smart. But I also know that having a second child doesn’t mean any of that will go away, so I’m kind of like, why put it off?

Sigh.

I think it was putting away Piper’s baby clothes that did it. Oh, that and finding an old diaper bag that held her Baby Gap newborn sweater.  Oh yeah, that and the fact that my period was late this month and I got giddily excited. Nope, just messin’ with me. Period came 5 days later. Awesome.

Since I’ve realized I’m a bit behind on checking out preschools for Piper (she’ll be two in four months), I started looking. And I found… THE ONE.

OMG, I love this preschool. It’s located in the city where  Paul works, which happens to be oooooh so close to where I work. It’s got a class of 10 toddlers (2.5 to 3.5 years of age) and about 14 kids 3.5 to 5. The ratio of teacher to student is 1:4, which is pretty great. They recognize that children all grow at their own pace, as well as develop at their own pace, so children are NOT required to be potty-trained!! How great is that?! Along with that,  they also offer financial aid for the families that need help. Oh. EM. GEEEEE. I’m a little scared because it doesn’t say anywhere on their site what the cost of tuition is, but I am so in love with this place and its philosophy that I may take up prostituting or donating blood in order to get Piper there. (joke?)
They require you to take a tour of their school (sans child, of course- it hypes up the students and the baby is likely to freak wanting to play and unable to) before you can even apply. Sooo… this morning I made an appointment to tour the school, which will mean I will fill out an application for preschool. For my daughter, Piper. Who like, ten minutes ago looked like this:

and who like, ten minutes before that was like this:

You know, the baby who was just IN HERE??

34 Weeks

Now, now my precious baby is THIS LITTLE GIRL!

Saying "Cheese!!"

THIS silly little monkey is going to be two. TWO YEARS OLD.

She is full of mess, just ate some dried seaweed!

After I made the phone call to make the appointment I was super excited. Then Piper walked over to get a Ritz cracker, and I teared up. I looked at her in her romper (how long can a kid get away with wearing rompers? Seriously, I want to know what you think), and thought, “Wow, time is getting away from us”.

Every day she learns new words, new ways to ask for things, and new ways to drive me batty (like her new obsession with refrigerators and sinks). It’s so amazing, and so quick, this growing up, that at least once a week Paul and/or I remark, “We don’t have a baby anymore, do we?”

I’m so proud of how wonderful she is, how sweet she can be. I am loving her new phase of hugging me and saying, “Mama…” with a sigh.  Sure, she can be trying, and some days I just want to cry from exhaustion and pure frustration, but other times, like last night before her bedtime (she had skipped a nap), she sat in my lap, laid back against my chest, and I just took a whiff of her glorious head, and cried, just a little bit. Because with each day that passes, she’s getting closer to being a little less MINE (ours) and a little more just HER.

Oh Father Time, you are a wicked, wicked trickster.

I don’t like to complain. Okay, I like to gripe, but rarely is it involving anything that has happened to me, meaning I’ll accept those problems/ailments/issues that I’ve been… blessed with, and move on.

Despite that, I just have to complain, to whine, to be miserable. Just for today.

Back in April of 2004, Paul took me to his Aunt’s 50th anniversary party. It was going to be the first time I met his mom and his sister. During the day of the party, Paul and I went “sight-seeing” in Fresno. That night, as I prepared to shower and get ready, I had a reaction to something; my face was bright red and puffy and itchy – spread over my nose and cheeks, reaching up to my forehead. I didn’t know what it was, but it was horrifying. I freaked out, and I didn’t know what to do. Paul went to a Walgreens and picked me up some cortisone (the first of MANY trips to get cortisone in our relationship) and some foundation to cover the rash, along with benadryl to take at bedtime. After I applied the make up and took some medication to bring down the swelling, I felt a little better, but I was still baffled.

A few weeks later, I went to the Renaissance Faire with my mom, aunt and cousins. As is tradition, we hit the fair one day, stay the night in a hotel and then hit up the outlets and grab breakfast the next day. Again, my face swelled, turned red and was itchy beyond belief- imagine a bug bite you’ve scratched ALL OVER YOUR FACE. The area under my nose was red and swollen, so eating was out of the question, although I wasn’t hungry anyway. The reaction this time was so bad that I couldn’t go to work. I was in so much pain, and so uncomfortable. Paul took time off work to care for me for two days.

After that attack, I went to a dermatologist. I told them about what happened and he prescribed me a z-pack. The rash went away within a few days.  A few times I had a reaction, and each time I took another z-pack.

Finally, the dermatologist decided to take a sample of my cheek where I always had a reaction. He sent the biopsy to their usual lab, and when he got the results he was puzzled, he told me. So, he sent the results to another derm he knew. HE was also puzzled. Eventually someone reached the conclusion that it might be Lupus. Specifcally, Discoid Lupus.  My blood was drawn and sent for testing. The results came back positive for the ANA Antibody (Antinuclear antibody). What the doctor told me wasn’t really helpful, upon finding this out. He said, “Well, you tested positive for the ANA, but not everyone who has the Antinuclear antibody has lupus, but everyone wit Lupus has the antibodies.” Um… so WHAT THE HELL, then?

At that point he told me to get some good sunblock, since it’s the only symptom I had- the intense reaction to the sun. So I did. I ordered a sunblock from Canada, SPF 90. And with a few minor reactions here and there, I was able to live my life normally- as long as I had my sunblock. It even became kind of a joke- haha- Amber is allergic to the sun. Ha ha, Amber is the whitest Mexican on Earth. You know, fun things like that.

Then, the sunblock appeared to stop working, as I was getting slightly burned again. Only on my nose, and it was horrible. Itchy and red, and usually it would swell the next day. What a gorgeous gal Paul married. After searching for sunblock referrals on various Lupus sites, I thought I found a winner- OTC, American, and SPF 100! Neutrogena Dry Touch sunblock sounded like everyone loved it. The next day Dad, Piper and I went to three stores to find it (and having a Thrify ice cream break in the middle), with success at the last store. I was SO.EXCITED.

I applied the sunblock on my way to get lunch at about 1pm. Foolishly, I assumed I wouldn’t need another application since the bottle says you don’t need to reapply, and at 4:30pm headed to Paul’s work to hang out until 6, completely outside, in various types of suncover- shade, full late afternoon sun, etc.. I felt so confident that this sunblock would be my savior and proudly kept my face from being hidden.

Oh boy, did I pay for it. I woke a few times in the middle of that night, hot, and feeling… tight skinned. Feeling itchy. Feeling hot to the touch. Feeling ITCHY with all caps. I knew what was coming, and I couldn’t stop it, so I slept a fitful sleep. When I woke, I immediately went to the mirror to see how bad the damage was this time. It was like my breakouts before I was “diagnosed” (since there really wasn’t a diagnosis)- I was lumpy, hot and red. The skin under my nose was puffy and red, and my nose… oh, my poor nose. It was bright red and swollen so much it looked like I had gotten a back alley nose job. It was horrible. Under my eyes were lumpy and painful spots that looked almost bruised. I was A MESS. So bad that Paul mentioned how I should probably stay home. Not only was it on my face, but my chest and shoulders (great job wearing a tank top that day, Amber) were covered in red rashes.  Since I knew we would be short staffed, I applied some make up (gently) and we picked up some advil to bring down the swelling. I had packed Piper a lunch so we wouldn’t have to get something and stayed inside the rest of the day.

It’s a few days later, and my face is still blotchy and bumpy in spots, but mostly peeling. My chest and shoulders are still all red.

I wish I knew a way to fix this. I miss the sun. I hate that I have to work around the sun when it comes to scheduling playdates with my new mom friend.  I’m sad that my sun allergy nearly ruined the week Paul and I spent in Hawaii, because I tried another sunblock I was referred to on that first day.  Lastly, I’m sad that this affects what Paul and I do together, and how I spend my time at his games.

I hate being a special case that no one really understands.