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	<title>WIRL Project &#187; boy</title>
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	<description>What It&#039;s Really Like.</description>
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		<title>Thoughts on &#8220;The Scissors&#8221;</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/thoughts-on-the-scissors/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/thoughts-on-the-scissors/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 09 Jul 2015 17:00:08 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Alessandra Macaluso]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Health/Fitness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Big Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[boy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Children]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Complete]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Complete Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Crazy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fun]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Girl]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[kids]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mistake]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Multiples]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pregnant]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Scissors]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Second Child]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Snip]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Surgery]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Vasectomy]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=7567</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[It wasn&#8217;t until I was in my twenties, that I learned I was a mistake. I was sitting at my parent&#8217;s dinner table. We were just chit-chatting about life, school, and other, you know, normal, non-life-altering conversations that could make you re-think your entire being, when it casually came out. &#8220;A mistake?&#8221; I said. My dad looked at me like I had ten heads. Then, in his thick Italian accent, and very matter-of-factly, he said: &#8220;Well, we had-a four boys. Then, we finally had your sister &#8211; our girl!&#8221; He paused, put his hand on mine, looked right into my eyes and said: &#8220;Why de fack would we want another one?!&#8221; I stared at him blankly, wide-eyed and slow-blinking. My mother piped up, in her strong New York accent: &#8220;But we&#8217;re so glad you&#8217;re HEA!&#8221; Umm, what &#8220;de fack&#8221; just happened?! Anyway, I&#8217;m thinking of this a lot today because I am 18 weeks pregnant, and yesterday was the day we found out what&#8217;s cooking. Turns out, it&#8217;s a BOY!! One of the first things people have said to us over the last 24 hours after hearing the news is &#8220;Yay, now Greg can go get snipped!!!&#8221; I think this is funny, and totally get why people say that &#8211; it makes sense that someone would want a boy and a girl. Maybe we never looked at it like that because I am the youngest of six children; 4 boys, then my sister, then me. My husband is one of four children; an older brother, a twin brother, and a younger sister. So I guess our parents kind of took the concept of a &#8220;complete&#8221; family and ran with it. And this extends beyond our parents; one aunt and uncle had six kids, and another had four. There were so many first cousins running around on any given family party that I don&#8217;t even know how anyone kept track. Our families didn&#8217;t have babies, they had litters. In our case, our choice to have another baby was not a mistake; we knew we were ready to grow our family. Truth be told, Greg actually wanted another girl, and we both really were convinced that a girl it would be. It&#8217;s not that he has anything against boys, it&#8217;s just that he is a little worried about what kind of boy he would produce. Him and his brothers were off the walls growing up, so he is a bit terrified. But it doesn&#8217;t matter &#8211; we&#8217;re having a boy! A little boy!! So yes, one and one. For now. Because we never even talked about, you know, the snipping. I mean, what if we&#8217;re not done yet? What if, after another year or two, I&#8217;m not ready to hang up the &#8216;CLOSED&#8217; sign? What if our upbringings get the best of us and one day, after I finally begin to feel like myself again, and the two miraculously are sleeping and eating and on manageable schedules, I drink too much cheap wine, go bat-shit crazy and decide I still want to birth a litter under the stairs? THESE ARE THE THINGS I JUST DON&#8217;T KNOW YET. I have no idea if that will be the case, or if it would even be possible. Maybe two is our magic number. I do know that, after having Penelope, as much as I love her, there were moments where I couldn&#8217;t even imagine entertaining the idea of having a second child in the first place because WHAT WAS I TAKING CRAZY PILLS?! I thought of women who had multiples and was in awe. I still am. Because babies are a lot of work. I mean, I knew it, but you don&#8217;t reeeeeeally know the ins and outs, the messy, tired, repetitive, taxing parts of it until your little one is here. Of course, you made the decision to have a child. Of course, you are going to do your best to take care of this tiny human with a fierce kind of love and determination you never had before, the kind that trumps getting poop on your finger, spit-up in your hair, and makes you constantly second-guess if you are even doing this right, for crying out loud. My mother had all six children within eight years. That&#8217;s not a typo. Let&#8217;s just say it &#8211; she is a special kind of crazy. I often ask her, &#8220;What were you thinking?&#8221; and each time, she shrugs her shoulders and her response is always the same: &#8220;I wasn&#8217;t!&#8221; When I ask her how the heck she handled all of us, she just says that she still has no idea, and that you just do it, you don&#8217;t have time to think about it. My aunt Angela had an entirely different response than the norm when I shared the news. Instead of reaching for the scissors, she said: &#8220;Yay! Then next time, whatever it is will be a sibling of the same for him or her!&#8221; Wait &#8211; what? Next time?! &#8220;We&#8217;ll see how two goes first,&#8221; I said, &#8220;I don&#8217;t know how you guys did it!&#8221; But she gave me the best response. She said: &#8220;All I can say is, if you like it, it works, no matter how many there are. Don&#8217;t think of it as work, it was a lot fun. Nothing is like a house full of little kiddies. I would have had two more.&#8221; At this point, I&#8217;m just thankful for happy and healthy. I feel so content with Penelope, and all I can think about is watching this tough little cookie give her little brother a run for his money. This, to me, right now, feels complete, but we will see what the future holds. My point in this little rant in which we run to put the scissors away, is this: a &#8220;complete&#8221; family is exactly what that is &#8211; to you. Maybe it&#8217;s a boy and a girl. Maybe it&#8217;s two little girls, or two little boys. Maybe it&#8217;s one child. Maybe it&#8217;s ten. Maybe it&#8217;s none. Maybe it&#8217;s you and your husband, maybe it&#8217;s you, your wife, and two dogs; maybe it&#8217;s you and your non-wedded partner for life; maybe it&#8217;s the two of you, your pet iguana named Fred, and a boat. Maybe it&#8217;s simply, beautifully, YOU, living your life to its fullest and doing just fine, thankyouverymuch. &#8220;I would have had two more. Don&#8217;t think of it as work, it was a lot of fun.&#8221; I&#8217;m raising my non-alcoholic beverage to you, putting the scissors in the drawer, and saying that, no matter what your situation, let&#8217;s make it fun. &#160; This post was originally published by Alessandra Macaluso on Punkwife.com. ]]></description>
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		<title>Leaving Your Baby at the Hospital &#8211; Two Weeks as a NICU Mom</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/leaving-your-baby-at-the-hospital-two-weeks-as-a-nicu-mom/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/leaving-your-baby-at-the-hospital-two-weeks-as-a-nicu-mom/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 23 Jun 2015 18:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Mandi Johnson]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Baby]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Blood Pressure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[boy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dad]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[hospital]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mom]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[newborn]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[NICU]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[pre-eclampsia]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Preeclampsia]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pregnancy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pregnant]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[protein]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Urine]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[weight gain]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=6922</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[15 Days. Fifteen days that felt like an eternity. Having a child in the NICU is a long, emotional roller coaster that nothing can prepare you for. Luckily, my story is a good one, and we now have a healthy 19 month old. However, I’ll never get back those minutes, those hours that I could not hold him, I could not kiss him. I wasn’t the first, second, or probably even the third person to hold my son. Back to the beginning – after 34 weeks of what seemed like a “normal” pregnancy, I was starting to swell.  My shoes didn’t fit, my ring didn’t fit and I felt miserable –but I thought this was all “normal” pregnancy symptoms. I gained 10 pounds in two weeks. At my 34 week appointment I was admitted to the hospital for high blood pressure. After 24 hours and an extremely high protein count I was diagnosed with severe pre-eclampsia. My son needed to be born now. Pre-eclampsia is the the leading cause of maternal and infant illness and mortality.  (For more information visit here) Pre-eclampsia is the the leading cause of maternal and infant illness and mortality. I was rushed to the OR – I didn’t have time for my doula to arrive, I didn’t have time to think about what was going to happen to me, and I definitely didn’t get to ask the question about what would happen to my baby after. I knew he would likely spend some time in the NICU. But no one warned me that I couldn’t hold him, that I wouldn’t even get to see him (other than the quick – over the sheet glimpse) for OVER 24 hours. Those hours were the most agonizing 24 hours I have ever had to endure. Because of my blood pressure and my high protein levels, I was at risk for having a seizure. To minimize that risk I was on a magnesium sulfate drip. “Mag” as it is lovingly referred to – is really nasty stuff. I felt like I was on fire. It makes your muscles feel like rubber bands. &#8230;no one warned me that I couldn’t hold him, that I wouldn’t even get to see him (other than the quick – over the sheet glimpse) for OVER 24 hours. Those hours were the most agonizing 24 hours I have ever had to endure. I felt like I was a prisoner. I couldn’t go see my son – I was hooked up to two IV lines, oxygen, leg pressure cuffs, an oxygen monitor and a BP cuff. They had the lights off in my room, and the TV was not on. All to minimize the risk of having a seizure. My husband split his time between staying with me and visiting our son. I recorded a tearful message on his phone that he played for him in his incubator. It wasn’t until months later that I found out that he didn’t hold him in the NICU until I was allowed to go and see him. My husband wanted me to hold him first. It wasn’t until months later that I found out that he didn’t hold him in the NICU until I was allowed to go and see him. My husband wanted me to hold him first. The day after he was born the doctor came in and I was awaiting the words that I was ok to be taken off of the magnesium and wheeled down to the NICU and I could finally hold my baby boy. My blood pressure was still high and initially I was told I would not be allowed to see him – that I still needed the “mag” for another 24 hours. I broke down. I balled. I couldn’t handle it.  They couldn’t keep me from my baby! I was told to “calm down”  because my BP skyrocketed. In the end I was told I could be taken off the magnesium to go and see him for an hour. I could barely stand to get into the wheelchair and the nurse shielded my eyes in the hallway from the lights. Finally, I got to meet our son. This was just the beginning of our NICU journey. I was discharged two days later – only to leave the hospital and leave our baby boy behind. Coming home without your child is probably the hardest thing to do. However, knowing he was ok, and was in good hands in the NICU is a small comfort. Coming home without your child is probably the hardest thing to do. Our daily routine consisted of my mother-in-law driving me to the hospital in the morning, me sitting by his side – staring at him in the incubator and hoping that all of the nurses notes would show that he was doing better, getting stronger, and meeting the milestones he needed to in order for us to bring him home. Those milestones consisted of getting him to eat so much at a feeding, gain weight, and to keep his body temp up on his own. I was an emotional wreck and anytime there was any setback I wanted to scream. I remember trying to coax him to eat just a few more milliliters from his bottle. My husband went back to work so that he could take time off when we got the baby home instead of spending time at the hospital. We would both go back in the evening, or if I was too exhausted my husband would go and stay with him. Our first diaper changes were through the portholes of the incubator.  We had to watch the “wires” and re-connect his oxygen monitor. We would sit and listen to the different beeps that came from the monitors showing that he was breathing, and that his oxygen level was ok. The first few times an alarm goes off it&#8217;s scary! Those beeps become strangely comforting and the first night home without them is nerve-wracking! Our first diaper changes were through the portholes of the incubator.  We had to watch the “wires” and re-connect his oxygen monitor. Each night we had to say goodbye. They tell you it’s hard to leave your baby, but they fail to mention that you have to repeat this day after day after day. I was told that this wouldn’t last forever, that it would come to an end and it did. Thankfully, I had a wonderfully supportive husband and we got through it together. We were the lucky ones, our baby boy is doing just fine and at the end of our 15 days – we finally got to take him home. &#160;]]></description>
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