Separation Makes this Blog a Soggy Pillow of Tears

Tears Behind the Wheel

Published on by Lisa

Have you ever cried while driving?

That’s probably not the safest thing to do.

I mean, it’s not as dangerous as drinking and driving or texting while driving, but CRYING has its own level of wrong, too.

I realized this as I was wiping away tears this morning after I took Isaiah to the doctor. The little Meatball is having a terrible week. Probably the worst in his four moths of existence.

Isaiah’s been struggling with moderate eczema for quite some time and Nick and I have been playing detective, trying to figure out what triggers it or how we can relieve it. Last month we figured out that the space heater in his room is the culprit.

So we unplugged the darn thing and layered him in extra shirts and socks when he went to bed.

And then spring came.

His eczema flared last week and I wondered if maybe it’s something in his milk. So I took out 99% of dairy in my diet.

No change.

This week, I gave up eggs. No change.

Poor little guy looked miserable. And I was having a breakdown watching his splotches begin to spread over his head, face, torso and arms. His little uncoordinated hands were scratching his head and belly while he cried and I would try to comfort him while I bawled myself.

What a mess.

So I took him to the doctor for three things: eczema, possible teething, and a bad cough.

Isaiah laughed and wiggled as the doctor examined him and thought the tongue stick to examine his mouth was the greatest thing ever and laughed in the doctor’s face.

Despite the laughs, he had a low grade fever and his eczema needs some serious attention. I fired away with questions and more questions. Without Nick there to calmly interject something very Borchers-esque, my motor mouth went nuts. Luckily, the doctor didn’t mind my fretting. (I assume fretting mothers are quite common in a pediatric setting.)

So, I hauled my 17.5lb elephant back to the car and got in the driver’s seat to head to Rite Aid to pick up his prescriptions.

I kept glancing in my rear view mirror to see his baby mirror. He looked so much like Nick, but covered in red patches of itch, and handled everything so well. His skin, fever, and cough coupled with Nick’s departure got the best of me and my tear ducts. And that’s when the bawling happened and my vision blurred from crying.

And that’s why I am writing to caution all who cry while driving – it’s just as hazardous as texting.

You can’t see ANYTHING.

Growth off the Charts

Published on by Lisa

Bleh. I hate when Nick is gone.

He left this morning at 3:45am to catch his 6am flight to El Salvador. Meanwhile, my mom has arrived to help take care of Isaiah and my sister is moving in to the third floor upstairs. All the Factora women in one household – it’s like a huge slumber party for Isaiah.

Speaking of our favorite meatball, yesterday he officially turned 4 months old and looks every bit of it as well. According to my mom who saw him last 3 weeks ago, when she feasted her eyes on him again, she couldn’t believe the length of his legs. I didn’t know what else to say except, “I know. I know. I know.”

When I hold Isaiah, I feel like I’m holding onto a very soft baby elephant. There are days when I just can’t friggin believe how strong he is. My sister-in-law and mother were gazing at him yesterday in his car seat and Suzi commented,”You might want to start thinking about upgrading your car seat. Uh, his feet are starting to dangle over the edge.” I glanced down. She was right.

Guess what else Isaiah is up to? TEETHING.

Yes, TEETHING.

I was wondering what’s been up with the buckets of drool flapping out of his mouth the past two weeks and his munching on his hand immediately after he’s eaten and him barreling down on his bottom lip like he needs his gums to be in contact with something. Suzi said, “They may not be popping out, but that doesn’t mean he’s already teething.”

And then my mom asked, “Are you sure he’s not yet ready for solids?”

And that’s when my head exploded.

NEW CAR SEATS. TEETHING. SOLIDS.

I complained like a little girl to my mom, “What the hell are all those books good for if they’re not preparing me in time for Isaiah’s development? He’s not supposed to be teething or eating solids yet, say the books I’m reading.”

And the common sense advice reply, “Well, those book are written for the average timeline of a baby. Isaiah may not be average.”

When I consider how his onesies are 12-18 months and starting to get tight in length, that might make sense.

Meanwhile, Nick takes off to El Salvador for five days and I’m left with an elephant of a son and a stomach full of battery acid because of Nick’s international travels.

Screw the books. I’m listening to my mother.

Wrap Yourself in a July Scarf

Published on by Lisa

Last night I was listening to my iTunes collection and a Christmas song came on. It didn’t even feel odd because I was wrapped up in pants and a sweater and still slightly cool. The weather had dipped into the 50s and I could hear the BOOM from downtown from the fireworks.

Yes, that’s right. It was in the 50s and the fireworks were going off downtown.

The past 4 days I have woken up to chilly, rainy mornings which makes me think more and more of my due date. It’s as if I feel I’m 6 months along because it’s October and January is right around the corner. But, no, it’s July and this weather is just unbelievable.

I actually don’t mind it as much because the cooler weather feels nice and it’s a lovely break from the humidity beating down on the city last week.

Break out the brass band – Nick is coming home this afternoon!

(I yell) Hip! Hip!
(you yell)_______
(hint: Hooray!)

One text and postcard later, here I am, Nick’s pregnant partner eagerly eating raw vegetables and blueberries, waiting for his return. It’s so wonderful to have little reunions in life, don’t you think? These brief (although it sure didn’t feel so brief this week) separations just make us cherish our beloved ones all the more when they come home.

I seriously feel like baking something in celebration.

Ah-hem — I don’t bake.

That’s how joyous I feel.

And so, with this holiday weekend, I must bid you all a wonderful and happy 4th of July. Enjoy the empty calories of all the bbq food you will have and safe travels from place to place. I must send a grateful note to my wonderful sister, Carmen, who stayed with me nearly every night this week because I’m such a chicken to sleep in this huge echoing house by myself and am tortured by thoughts of a break-in.

I hope your summers bring you so much joy you feel like fireworks are going off inside you.

That’s kind of how our growing baby feels inside me these days.

The Soggy Pillow Drama Continues

Published on by Lisa

I haven’t watched soap operas in full episodes since high school. Specifically, Days of Our Lives. Before Tivo and DVRing, we had to – can you believe this – TAPE something on tv if you were going to miss it when it was aired. Thankfully, for those who live in 2009, you can watch whatever you want, whenever you want. Nick and I don’t have cable, a flatscreen, or fancy shmancy anything. We just watch basic tv channels and go with the flow of life. We’re content and happy (and cheap) like that.

So, it was quite the rare day today that I – in between jobs and have some free time – got to sit my pregnant butt down and just relax. After a hectic weekend of company, hosting, dinners, and sun, I felt the need – physically and emotionally – to just chill. And chill I did.

Within 25 minutes of watching, I got caught up on Days and started wondering how Nick was doing on his mission trip. Since he doesn’t have phone reception, we’re unable to communicate this week. So you can imagine my surprise when I hear my phone buzz with the receipt of a text message. From Nick, it says he has reception for one hour a day and to text updates. Knowing he meant updates about life and not Days of Our Lives, I tried to tell him in 160 characters that I missed him and all is well with me and Baby.

Out of nowhere, the flood gates break and I’m crying.

My sister, who is kindly staying with me this week to keep me company in the big house while I’m alone, sighs and rolls her eyes at me, “Oh, get a grip!”

I frown at her and blame it on pregnancy hormones.

In addition to missing his overall presence and love…Who’s going to beg me to make popcorn at 10 o’clock at night? Who’s going to leave granola bar wrappers on the counter? Who’s going to mow the grass? Who’s going to make me laugh right before I fall asleep? Who’s going to listen and actually care about my latest rant on life and social justice?

Sometimes when our beloved temporarily vanishes from our lives, it gives us the clarity to recognize the million and one ways they bring joy in the details of daily co-habitation, everyday love. Nick is just one of those people who is just too easy to love and separation can be difficult. Especially when this baby inside me is making me weepy by just watching Days of Our Lives.