The story. All in one place.

I have conversations with God.  Trying to explain to him how I work (as if he doesn't already know).  But I've been taught God speaks to us in "whispers".  Turns out I don't really hear whispers.  Well, not true, I hear lots of whispers not all of which could come from God.  I worry.  A lot.  And make up scenarios in my head.  And then panic.  And don't know what to do.  So I told God--if you're going to give me an answer to a prayer, an important prayer, a life-changing situation, I need.you.to.SHOUT.
I had this conversation with God when deciding if we should get Carter scoped to discover a problem.

Let me rewind.  We've had a pretty rough year.  For more reasons than Carter.  But it started when he was born (not because he was born--love you Carter).
So here's a somewhat abbreviated version of the story (bits and pieces of which have already been blogged) so I can have it all in one place.

I went into labor with Carter on a Friday afternoon.  2 1/2 weeks early.  I'd never gone into labor on my own before.  I didn't know what it was supposed to feel like.  Contractions were 2-3 minutes apart.  Friday night we went to the hospital.  They kept me for 2 hours and sent me home.  I didn't sleep Friday night.  I was having contractions people.  you don't sleep through contractions.  Saturday night we went back to the hospital.  I didn't have a magical "at home birth plan" and wasn't real hip on that idea.  They ran an IV because Carter's heart rate kept dropping.  They kept me for about 3 hours and sent me home with a morphine/phenergren "cocktail".  The morphine was supposed to stop contractions since they didn't think it was "real" labor.  Mike nearly carried me into the house.  I slept for 15 hours.  Woke up Sunday morning.  Contractions still going strong.  I had been calling my doctor all weekend but it's a weekend.  He wasn't on call.
Monday morning I was waiting in my doctor's lounge when the doors opened.  I wasn't going home.  I was crazy.  Don't mess.  Turns out doctor's can't induce you 2 weeks early unless there's a medical reason.  So I took matters into my own hands and drove my blood pressure up.  It may not be scientific, but it worked.
I told my doctor I wasn't leaving without a baby.  A baby OUT of my belly.  He was wise and didn't try to send me home.
Monday afternoon, Carter was born.  Without a name.
I was officially in labor for four days.  FOUR DAYS.
He was born 4 days before Christmas.  Phew.

A day after Christmas we got his 3rd test for Bilirubin.  It was "dangerously high".  We got the phone call on our way home from the clinic.  I cried the whole way home.  Minutes after we got home, a man arrived with a Bilirubin bed.  He was to be on it for at least 2 days.  All day.  All night.  We could only take him off to feed him.  It was brutal.  You don't tell a new, highly emotional mom, she can't hold her baby.

Carter was a typical baby for the first 2 weeks.  Slept, pooped, and ate.  And ate.  And ate.

At 2 weeks everything changed.  He started fussing.  All day.  He spit up.  All the time.  Everywhere.  And from 6ish at night until midnight or 1 he cried.  And screamed.  And screamed.  This continued for the next 4 1/2 months.  Fussy all day.  Screaming all evening.  Every. Day.  We tried everything.  Any suggestion we could get from friends, other mothers, doctors, nurses, the internet.....we tried everything.  Nothing worked.  Nothing calmed him down.  Nothing made him feel better.  So I just held him.  And hugged him. And rocked him.  And bounced him.  And cried a whole lot with him.  Because that's all I could do.  I was his mom.  It was my job to make him feel better.  And I couldn't.  Pretty brutal.

Around 5 months the screaming got less and less, but he still woke up in the night crying.  In pain.  For unknown reasons.  He had what we thought was reflux and a lot of gas.  Still spitting up alot.  Still pretty unhappy.

At 7 months he seemed to get a little better.  But by 9 months, he wasn't gaining weight.  And still pretty fussy.  And still waking up 5 to 6 times a night.

In the midst of all this, there were lots of other things going on.  I was suffering from post-partum depression.  I had post-partum with Jaida, but not like this.  This was different.  This was dark.  This was miserable.  Physically and emotionally painful.  And I did everything in my power to hide it.  Because I'm "happy", I'm "strong", I'm "even".  I didn't need help, and it would go away.  Soon (or so I thought).  It was embarrassing, really.  That's how I felt.  And I thought I did a pretty good job hiding how I really felt.  It was a dark day when I woke up and decided I would never be a photographer again, I would never get the things I wanted in life, I was a horrible mother, I was a bad wife, I was nothing that God intended me to be.  Dark, dark days.  It lasted about a year.
I can talk about it now because it's over.  And the monster of depression is gone.  I had no control.  No matter how hard I tried, I was powerless against how I felt.  And it was scary.  But to be honest I'm grateful, because I survived it.  And now I understand.  And can have compassion for others.  And I'm a stronger person than I was a year ago.

We were also faced with the reality of Mike being in the real estate industry.  And a possible career change, a job offer, and some tough, tough decisions we had to make.  Decisions that would completely change the course of our lives.

And.  Jaida started first grade.  Something harder for both of us than I ever expected.  More for Jaida than I thought.  And we discovered a lot about her I didn't realize the depth of.  Lots of anxiety.  And uncertainty.  And a lot of pleading prayers for God to help us parent her.  Because we had no idea what to do.  I didn't know how to help her.  Or to help us as a family.  I read a lot of parenting books.  Sought advice from my ever wise mother and some God-sent friends.  Still a lot of things we're working on.  And figuring out.  Poor first born children.  We really have no idea what we're doing as parents as they grow and move to each new phase of life.  It's amazing any of them turn out okay.  :)

And then there was Mya.  Lost in the shuffle.  So much guilt about Mya.  Because she wasn't getting the attention she needed.  The attention she deserved.  And I was guilt-ridden about it.  But didn't know how to make things change.  Because Carter demanded so much.  And what he didn't take, Jaida did.  And Mya was left with, well, nothing (at least that's how I felt).

At Carter's 1 year appointment he had only gained 1 pound and still having hard, hard nights.  We went to an allergist.  No allergies but a slight reaction to wheat.  Recommendation to take him off wheat and dairy for a week.  Take a look through your pantry and try to find something to feed a 1 year old with no wheat or dairy.  On top of that, I was nursing, so I had to go off wheat and dairy too.  Not gonna happen.  So I decided to stop nursing cold turkey.  Very, very bad decision.  It was one of the most painful weeks of my life.  Nothing hurts quite like rock hard very sensitive boobs.  I still cringe thinking about it.  One week off wheat (a very hard week) and no change.
We were then sent to a gastro-intestinal specialist.  She tried 2 different courses of medicine for allergies in the belly and for a possible yeast infection in the intestines.  Neither changed anything.
She then recommended doing a scope so she could get in and take a look around to see what was going on.
It's a hard decision to get an optional procedure that puts your childs life at risk.  Anesthesia for a 1 year old is scary.  So scary.

The appointment was scheduled for 1 day after we would get back from a trip to Vegas for a photography convention (a weekend that literally changed my life)........

Story to be continued.  The scope was quite an experience.  Stay tuned....