"Mommy Thumb" - I have it and it hurts

So I have been walking around for the last three or four days with my hand wrapped in an Ace bandage.
Everyone asks what I did to my wrist.
I shrug, hold my arm up, and reply, "I have Mommy Thumb".
This answer has gotten a few raised eyebrows but mostly people laugh at me and ask what Mommy Thumb is.
I know.  It sounds ridiculous and made up.
But it is a real thing.  And I have it. And it hurts.

I started noticing problems with my arms, hands, and wrists about a month after Rocco was born.  My arms from the elbows down started falling asleep at night.  I thought it was because I would rest my head on one arm and cover my head with the other.  So I stopped doing that.

I also noticed that I was spending WAY more time on the computer being home with Rocco.  Most of the time he would be sleeping across my chest or nursing while I balanced my laptop awkwardly on my knees with my arm bent like a praying mantis.

Another thing I thought was contributing to my arm and hand numbing was carrying the car seat in the crook of my elbow.

At the same time the tendinitis in my left shoulder started to act up again.  My assumption was that all of the new lifting I was doing was aggravating some unfortunate muscle/tendon issues that were preexisting.

 My sister found an article in a parenting magazine about 'Mommy Thumb'.  Several Google searches produced links to articles about cases of carpel tunnel syndrome in new moms.  So, I stopped doing these things and started to feel better.

Until last week when my left wrist and thumb started to throb.  It started to hurt when I would lift Rocco.  Something I do a billion times a day.  This week I had almost 5 days in a row with Rocco.  And as each day passed the pain got worse.  It has gotten to the point where my thumb makes a clicking sound when it moves and it is extremely painful.  It is almost as if something is horribly out of place.

I'm going to the orthopedist on Tuesday which seems like forever away.  In the meantime Motrin seems to help with the pain and inflammation.  Wrapping it isn't the most helpful thing but reminds me not to use it.  And some people I know who are tight with God have been praying for me.  Hey - it doesn't hurt.

A friend of mine had it with her two children.  She has surgery twice and it did not help.

Another friend had it and it got worse with each child.  Her youngest is in Junior High and she says it still creeps up on her from time to time.

The cases of  'Mommy Thumb' are increasing as mothers get older.
Is this what getting old is like?

I'm just hoping that I don't drop my kid between now and my appointment on Tuesday.  And I'm forced to ask for help.  Which sucks.  Because when I am away from him all day I don't want help.  I want to take care of him on my own.

I will keep you updated.  But prayers and vibes for a surgery free solution are greatly appreciated.

CHEEEEEEESE!

Since Rocco was born we have been getting coupons in the mail for the portrait studio at Sears.
A friend of mine bought me a photo frame intended for baby pictures of all three of us.  Since the photos I chose for the frame of Eric and me were done professionally I thought it made sense that the photo of Rocco also be a professional shot.
So yesterday we made an appointment via the internet and headed to the mall.

Our appointment was for 3pm.  As we strolled through Old Navy Rocco smiled and giggled.  We put hats on him and took pictures with Eric's phone.  We thought we should head to the portrait studio while he was in such good spirits.

When we got there the lights were off and the woman working in the next department said the photographer would return at 3.  While we waited Rocco sang and jabbered away like neither of us had ever heard.  He had perma-grin.  We joked that he knew we were getting his photo done and that is why he was being so jovial.

At 3 o'clock the photographer came rushing into the studio.  This woman had the energy of the Tazmanian devil. She moved from computer to computer with lightening speed.  I think she may have been clocking in and checking her schedule for the afternoon.  I'm not sure.

We changed Rocco out of his spit up soaked onsie and put him in the outfit we picked for the photo.  The photographer invited us into the room where the photos were taken.  And that is when the fun began....
I'm not sure what Eric and I thought was going to take place in there.  I think I just assumed we would plop him on the floor and lean him up against a prop and she would take a photo or two.
Noooooo.......

We plopped him on the floor alright.  And then this woman started making all of this noise.  Clearly she was trying to get him to smile.  But it was extremely overwhelming.  She called his name, clapped, whistled, clicked her tongue, made tooting noises, kissing noises, giggled,  you name it.
Eric and I looked at each other in horror.  And all of Rocco's cooing came to a screeching halt.

He sat wide eyed and mouth open.  He stared at this stranger.

Eric and I tried every trick in OUR book.  Singing Elmo's song.  Fake laughing.  Calling him a stinky butt boy.  Playing John Lennon on Eric's phone.  All of the things that usually get a grin.  Nothing worked.  Our attempts could not be heard over the incredible noise this woman was making.

At one point my husband who has NO filter (which some one you know) told her she was scaring him.  In an attempt to smooth that over I told her that I'm sure older children respond to that.  She could have made a living doing voices for cartoons.  Her energy was amazing.  But to two adults with a relatively quiet life she was totally overwhelming.  And Rocco is was too young to think a stranger making noises is funny.

We were in this room for an HOUR!  I had no idea she would take that kind of time.  I seriously thought we would be in and out of there.  But we used several different backgrounds.  He was on his back, his belly, his side (which caused a meltdown), his butt.  I thought when he started crying we could call it quits and get the hell out of there.  But the photographer had us calm him down and put him back in front of the camera.

Our coupon was for 46 photos of 1 pose for $9.99.  I knew she was going to try and sell us other packages but I thought maybe the other packages would be nice and we would consider purchasing an additional photo or two.

The photographer spent about 10 minutes cropping and enhancing our photos.  Adding borders, changing them to sepia, and creating collages.  Another mother and her 6 month old sat waiting.  She told me she had been there a few days ago and they were back for more.

The photographer sat me down and showed me what she had done.  The photos were great.  She had enhanced them and made some really cute collages.  Then she pulled out her price book.  She explained what each package included and gave us the rundown on the 'specials' and 'discounts' that we were eligible for.  These packages were over three hundred dollars.  She did a lovely job and Rocco looked cute in them all but come on...  He is 3 months old.  And Eric and I are not the type to have 8x10 photos hanging all over our house.  All we wanted to do was get a picture to put in the frame my friend gave us.

Telling her no to each package she reviewed felt horrible.  It makes you feel like a bad parent to say 'no' to photos of your kid.  As though his image isn't worth $250.  To us it was worth $9.99.  Someone call CPS!
Not to mention the fact that we were only able to choose one photo to use this coupon.  And all of them were cute.  How do you choose one photo of the cutest baby in the world?

In the end we used the coupon.  We picked our favorite picture.  And for $20 per sheet we picked two other images we liked.  When all was said and done (a one year discount card and a donation to support our troops included) a $9.99 photo shoot turned into $60.57.

We left with a headache and a crying baby.  And we probably will go back.  We bought the stupid membership card.

3 Months Old!!!

Today Rocco went to the pediatrician for his 3 month check up.
He weighs 14 pounds and 4 ounces.
He measures 25.25 inches long.
He got two vaccines.  He handled them like a trooper.
He seems to be feeling well.
Rocco is very good natured.  He smiles.  He loves music.
We are still working on getting him to sleep for longer stretches at a time.
But even at 3am he brings us so much joy.

The Perfect Day

Woke up about 7 to the sound of Rocco fussing.
Nursed the baby.
Snuggled with the dog.
Took a 2 mile walk to my parents house.
Surprised them with a visit.
Walked 2 miles home.
Went for pancakes.
Took a 2 hour nap with Eric, Rocco, and Tilly.
Took a shower.
Dressed the baby.
Washed the bedding.
Had an iced coffee and a Moon Pie.
Went grocery shopping.
Sang to Rocco while in the store.
Bought him a stuffed dog.
Put groceries away.
Walked into town.
Named Rocco's new stuffed dog.  Frankie.
Had dinner with my parents.
Took a walk.
Put the clean bedding on the bed.
Gave Rocco a bath.
Gave him a massage and put on his PJs.
Put on one of Eric's extra large Tshirts.
Now I'm nursing the baby.
Watching some mindless TV with Eric.
I'm looking forward to some low fat vanilla ice cream and Hershey's syrup.
And snuggling into a bed with clean sheets.

Got a light?

One day when I feel he is old enough to know I was a smoker, I will thank Rocco for helping me quit.

I have tried to quit smoking dozens of times.  Cold turkey, the patch, the gum, Chantix, hypnosis!  You name it, I tried it.  I would typically last a day or two.  The longest I went without a cigarette was in 2007.  I did not smoke for about 90 days.  I quit that year on my birthday right before Eric (a non smoker) and I started dating.  I had a lovely smoke free summer.  But that fall when my last year of graduate school started I freaked out.  I realized I did not know how to sit in front of the computer for hours with out chain smoking and drinking coffee.  I slowly started up again.

I smoked for 19 years.  Yes, you read correctly.  19 years.  Smoking made me happy.  Smoking relaxed me.  Comforted me.  Woke me up.  Calmed me down.  Eventually I was smoking against my will.  I was smoking because I had to.


When I found out I was pregnant I immediately wanted to smoke.  I remember putting the third pregnancy test down on the bathroom counter and saying to Eric "Shit!  I really want to smoke!"  And I did.

That was a Friday.  I had about 10 cigarettes left in my pack.  I don't even remember what I was smoking at the time.  Cigarettes were getting expensive and I was experimenting with cheaper brands than Parliament Lights.  I think I was smoking Pall Malls.

I knew I was going to quit.  There was no way I was going to smoke through my pregnancy.  But I did not think I was going to be able to do it.  I remember thinking that I wasn't strong enough to stop.

I took my time smoking those cigarettes that weekend.  I would smoke half, clip it, smoke the rest later.  I spaced them out.  Mindful with each drag that I was no longer destroying my own health but that the health of my unborn child was at risk.  I even tried rationalizing my behavior.  I encounter women all of the time who drink and use drugs through their pregnancies.  Some nicotine was nothing compared to alcohol and crack.  I see plenty of healthy babies born to women who drink and do drugs while pregnant.  Smoking wasn't a big deal.

That Monday before I went to bed I told Eric I was smoking my last cigarette as I headed outside.  He rolled his eyes and said, "Okay".  He has heard that before.  I smoked that cigarette ridden with guilt.  Feeling selfish but trying to enjoy every pull because this really was going to be my last cigarette.

Before I got into bed I got on my knees.  I talk to God regularly but usually in the car or after I have already snuggled under the covers.  I never pray on my knees.  But that night I really needed help.  I asked God to remove my obsession to smoke cigarettes.

And it worked.

God lifted my obsession.  Or it could have been that I was vomiting so much that the thought of a cigarette was the furthest thing from my mind.  Who knows?  Who cares?

I have smoked since.  I have smoked three cigarettes since last July.  And they were disgusting.  It will never be the same again.  They will never taste as delicious or make me feel 'good'.  They smell bad.  They feel awkward in my hand.  I can't inhale.  My lungs hurt when I try.  I have romanticized it.

My own well being was not enough for me to stop smoking.  Watching my Grandmother die from years of smoking didn't scare me.  Watching my Uncle Frank tote an oxygen tank around with him for years did not convince me.  It was Rocco.  Before we even knew he was going to be a Rocco.  

So, one day when I think it is appropriate to crush my son who I am sure is going to worship me and think I can do no wrong I will let him know of my sordid past.  And thank him for saving my life.

Happy Pappy's Day!

I want to take a moment to acknowledge some of the fantastic men in my life.  I feel truly blessed to have such wonderful people for Rocco to grow up with and look up to.

Happy Father's Day to my Dad.  Thank you for your patience and tolerance.  I know it wasn't easy watching me  tear through life like an unruly tornado.  But I hope today you are proud of who I have become and know that you had a tremendous influence on that.  Thanks for making the best scrambled eggs, checking to make sure I don't have a fever, and introducing me to Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley.  Rocco is lucky to have you as a playmate.

Happy Father's Day to Kenny.  "Step father" to Eric.  Grandpa to Rocco.  Father in law AND friend to me.  Thank you for your sense of humor and lightheartedness.  Something we need in our lives.  We love you very much.

Happy Father's Day to the late Rocco Fortuna.  I wonder if you would have liked me.  I know you would have loved Rocco.  We can't wait until we can tell him stories about the grandfather he was named after.  Thank you for raising Eric to be a kind, loving man.  He would have made you very proud.

Happy Father's Day to my brother in law, Tom.  I have to acknowledge you because without you there would be no Susie.  She is a sweet kid and freakishly smart.  Keep up the good work.

The most important 'holiday' wish goes to my husband, Eric.  Happy Father's Day to you!  I knew you would be a good father but had no idea how good.  It has been beautiful watching you care for and love our son.  You changed your first diaper.  Put clothes on a baby for the first time.  And learned how to draw a perfect bath.  Your hard work and dedication to this family is truly appreciated.  Rocco is a happy boy.  Thank you for making that possible.  I couldn't do this without you.  Enjoy that ugly recliner.

Happy Father's Day to all the men out there with children in their lives. You do not have to be a father to have made an impact on someones life.  I hope everyone takes a moment to acknowledge the men who have shaped and set an example for them.  Uncles, brothers, in laws, cousins, next door neighbors.  Whoever they may be.  Show some gratitude for them.  Today and always.

We made it...

This past week I returned to work.

Prior to taking my maternity leave I thought I would be ready to go back after a few weeks.  I did not expect to want to stay home with Rocco.  People told me I was going to struggle toward the end of my time off. But I did not believe them.  I did not understand how much Rocco would change me emotionally.  My job is important to me and my assumption was that I would be ready to jump back in. However, I started to have a melt down about a month ago.  I realized I wanted  my full time job to be motherhood.  I no longer had interest in my paycheck.  The time, money, and energy I invested in getting my masters was no longer important.  I am a Mama now.  This is my purpose.

The thought of spending time away from him made my chest hurt.  Going to Barefoot Bunz for an hour at the gym causes severe separation anxiety.  I start thinking of him halfway through any class a the gym.  I don't want to miss anything.  Not one coo.  Not one smile.  Not one seedy, mustard colored poop.

Returning to work was not a decision.  I HAD to.  Eric is self employed and I am the benefit carrier.  Plus I have student loans to pay.  Loans I took out took out so I could get the education needed to have a career.  So, I took as much time as I could financially and started counting down the days.

The day I went back I broke all of my rules and ignored the routine I was desperately trying to master before my return to work.  I let Rocco lay on my chest all day.  He was allowed to nap there.  Nurse himself to sleep.  While we did all of this I whispered to him how much I love him.  I told him how much Mama would miss him while she was gone.  Crying on him the entire time.

When I handed him to Eric he asked why the baby was all wet.

I cried in the car on the 15 minute ride to the hospital.  I swiped my badge through the time clock.  I focused on my breathing on the elevator.  Opened my office door.  Dropped my purse on the floor.  Attached my key to my hip.  Made sure I had a pen.   And I dove right in.

Halfway through my shift I realized that I enjoy what I do.  I love counseling and case management.  I enjoy working with alcoholics and drug addicts.  I like my coworkers (although my Wolfpack is currently broken up) and have a great boss.

Going back to work wasn't that bad.  Although the night seemed to drag on.  I couldn't WAIT to get home and see Rocco even though I knew he would be in bed.

I walked in the door.  Unhooked the key from my hip.  Threw my bag on the floor.  And sat down next to Eric to get a detailed minute by minute report about how many ounces he ate, when he had his diaper changed last, and how long he had been asleep.  I was in the door about 5 minutes when I heard Rocco start to cry through the baby monitor.  It was a little early for him to wake up.  Maybe he knew I was finally home.

I'm exhausted.  It is a challenge getting up in the morning after a night of choppy sleep.  Rocco is the cutest in the morning, too.  He smiles and coos.  It is hard to say goodbye to him.  And it is also difficult to come home, feed him, bathe him, and then put him to bed.  Putting him to bed is alot of work!!!

All of the guilt, the sadness, the tears, separation anxiety....That is all about me.  Rocco is fine.  He is too small to know how long or how often I am gone.  He gets to be with his dad when I am at work which I am tremendously grateful for.  It was me I was worried about, not him.  So I guess selfishness doesn't go out the window entirely when you have a baby.

Rocco and I are going to spend the next two days together.  I'm so excited.