Grandma's first visit

We gave ourselves a few weeks before we allowed any family to arrive. We wanted to make sure we had a rhythm to this new two step blitz, if that was even possible. Hunter, thus far, has been simply fantastic! I endured the spurts of feeding sessions throughout the night like a champion. I tolerate my husband's "I'm so tired" bit instead of going at him with a dull axe. The guy whines for getting six hours of sleep a night. He mocks me with his snoring as my eyes are peeled open to nurse at 3 o'clock in the morning. Can I get a "God Your Such a Dick" trophy for my loving husband? I could always use some extra help. What's a girl to do. Thank goodness for eager Grandmothers.

Grandmother Colleen was on her way from New York. Alas, a helping hand. Gramma Colleen couldn't wait to get here. She's been calling night and day and day and night and every where in between on the happenings of Hunter. What's he wearing? How many hats does he have? What kind of books does he have? How many times has he slept today? Has he pooped? How many hours have I slept? The questions just kept rolling off her tongue. Yikes! Easy there first time Grandmother your scaring the child.

Gramma Colleen arrived with a vengeance. Hunter is her first, but not last, grandchild. She was off her rocker absolutely thrilled with the boy that I thought her head was going to burst. She went papparazzi on Hunter, taking pictures of him like it was pay day, "Smile!" Her visit consisted of many poses and candids. It was pretty insane. She's been waiting a long time to meet the sweet angel.

Needless to say, Grandma Colleen had a great visit. She was ecstatic! She was at Hunter's side every nanosecond, but isn't that what grandmother's do? Styles is lucky to have a grandmother that adores him. She is all love. She is a wonderful mother full of good intentions. That's why she is such a perfect grandmother. In this day and age, it's a rarity. I couldn't ask for anything more.

This is Shellie pocketing her lucky stars back to you Bob at the studio.

Life is a Carnaval!

Hunter slumbered in his stroller as the parade flamboyantly marched by. It's May 26, 2007, and it's Hunter's first Carnaval celebration. We cheered with each passing float, enjoying the flashy costumes and dance. I was overjoyed to immerse Hunter in one of my favorite San Francisco events. I was enthralled by the brazilian music and dance. We were in the Mission! The main artery of the city. I love the Mission! I adore everything about it. It's versatility, the swarm of co-existence of all differences come to settle in refinement.

Jill and Greg hosted their first Carnival at their home. Their house sat on Bryant street which was a great stretch of the parade. The weather was chilly, and still the women danced in their frilly modest outfits. We followed the parade down to 18th street trying to catch the drum circles and dancers, but the density of the crowd thickened and our attention turned strictly towards alcohol. We made steadfast to Jill and Greg's to get this Carnival started.

I can't wait to the next few years when Hunter will be dancing to the beats of the drum circles. Smiling. Cheering. Laughing. As my husband and fellow male friends gawked on happily and freely at the beautiful backsides of the performers, the baby slept soundlessly in his stroller. It was beautiful to know that he too will experience this great enchantment in years to come.

This is Shellie nay nay on the brazilian ay back to you Bob at the studio!

The Art of Love and Nursing

Most of Hunter's waking moments are spent with my boobs. The boy is eager to eat! I don't know what all the books are saying, but as soon as he cries I feed the little sucker. It works for me. I'm sure it works for him. My constant nursing has me addicted to television with shows such as Top Chef, Hell's Kitchen, Weeds, the L Word and Entourage. My love affair with television is scandalous. My biggest sin is Law & Order SVU. It doesn't help when TNT and FX is broadcasting a Law & Order marathon. I'm hooked! Hiss to all you anti television advocates. What am I supposed to do while nursing? Read a book? Snooze. I love reading, but oddly enough, it's so arduous while Hunter's having his leche feast. Television is just easier to feed to.

You can blame it on my family. We had one television that was shared with seven boys. My television time consisted of sports, sports, and the occasional Benny Hill. I got up at 530am just to catch my Tom and Jerry. Other than that, I was outside playing with the neighbors. So in essence blame my childhood. I never got over it. I'm that kid that wasn't allowed to watch television, look at me now! I can't get enough of it. Word.

So back to the whole nursing gig. Besides having to wrack my brain around a shirt or blouse that allows the prisoners to accessibly bust out, it's entirely a whole new world. Can I just say awkward? Not in a feeding sense, but in a public arena. There's a whole gaggle of people that are against it, but gosh darn it! I'm not here to offend. I just need to feed the kid. It's challenging to keep'em covered. Thankfully, he's little enough that it's inconspicuous, but I've gotten to the point where I just want to whip it out. I've whipped the sucker out at home around close friends and family, I don't care any more. I know it's gross. I'm that big pink elephant in the room. Yowza.

This is Shellie trying to find some law in this disorder back to you Bob at the studio.

Happy 1 Week Old!!!

Shane's new venture as a business owner required his presence back at work on Tuesday. It's just Hunter and me in this big old house. At first, like all mothers, I didn't know what to expect. As the days passed, I realized that his dailies included lots of eating, sleeping, and diaper changes. He and Chloe had similar lifestyles.

As I have been branded a virgo, such enlightened organized beings. Yes, that's just a nice way of saying anal. I, a rare case, is a disastrously piggish slob. I've gotten a lot better in the past few years, thus I remain a mess. Until now. Maestro, please keep the orchestra down for a second. Suddenly, the thought of being solely responsible for another human being clicked my ass into gear. I am three, four steps ahead of the game when it comes to my son. Hunter's nursery and diaper bag is jam packed full of essentials. I amaze myself. Some would call it a miracle. I prefer to not be that parent that forgot to pack the diapers or a change of clothes. Just as well, I remain a ghastly unorganized lout, but my son, on the otherhand, has gotta it plush.

On my phone conversation with mom, she pleaded that I stay home for at least 30 days. Mom should know best, heck she's had ten kids. At the same time it's hard to turn mom down. I mean she's my mom! But, 30 days? Come on let's get real folks. I might as well preserve myself in a cave. Nonetheless, I gave her my word like the good daughter that I am, knowing deep in my heart that my words were flimsy. I think deep in mom's heart she knew my words were only to silence her worries.

No sooner than a squirrel cracks a nut, my promise to mom faded far and away. Hunter's first week entailed day trips to Target, Ross, Rainbow Grocery, Safeway, and Trader Joes. By the way, let's not forget my first experience with sushi, since Hunter's birth. Jill and Greg took us out on Hunter's first sushi date. Sorry mom.

Meanwhile, our neighbors brought over a bountiful platter of sausage and pasta. Kathy had a smorgasbord of charcuterie, baguette, hummus, and salsa messengered to the house along with gifts for Hunter. Our next door neighbor dropped off a gift certificate to Aperto. My sister dropped off some chicken and green papaya soup. The slew of dishes kept coming and all I had to say was praise the Lord! Are you kidding me? Prepared meals is so rock and roll! I am in debt to you all.

Happy! Happy! Joy! Joy! I can't believe it's been a week. A flippin' week! Time is just whippin' by. I'm still walking on air with every second of every moment, catching my breath has become a common occurence for me. He's a miracle! A week ago he was chillin' in my belly. Today my love for him grows deeper in my heart. Life is divine.

This is Shellie happier than a guppy in a toilet bowl back to you Bob at the studio!

Mother's Day

It was early morning and the sunlight burst softly through our orange curtains displaying a beautiful hue on our bed. There she was, Chloe licked Hunter's head. I shook Shane to witness the new phenomena. We were reluctant to have Chloe in bed with us, but we couldn't kick her out of bed. C'mon, we didn't want her to despise Hunter. It was a beautiful moment. It had only been his second day home, he was only five days old, and life was cohesive.

Today is Mothers Day. I recovered from my birth experience pretty swift. Well, to say the least, I could walk. Plus, the swelling downtown was non existent. We were committed to attend Mothers Day over Joel and Maxine's. They were throwing a party to introduce Hunter to our great group of friends. As much as I felt fine when I agreed to attend the party, I could easily retract and spend the day in bed. Any normal new mother would have thrown a fit and chose the latter. I know it is insane to consider attending an event, considering that Hunter's only five days old and we've only been home from the hospital in two days. Besides, I didn't feel pretty nor fit to be seen by friends. I could spit on those female celebrities that make motherhood look so unrealistic with their perfect hair, face, weight, and abdominals. I curse you Brooke Burke most of all. Sorry for the tangent, but I thought I would feel better if I shout it out. Ugh and my legs! Oh the agony, my ankles were swollen. Bloated. Water retention. I had pigs feet!

Thankfully, they lived a block away from home. We strolled over with the new bugaboo. Meow did we feel fancy! Joel and Maxine really know how to throw a bash. I was beside myself. The Bleskacecks (I think I just mangled their name, my apologies) are very generous and warm hearted family. I can say that from the bottom of my heart. Maxine, mother of two, had prepared such a beautiful spread. A gourmet feast! Meanwhile, their kitchen looked like someting out of Martha Stewart magazine. Her dining table was beautifully decorated with several uber-gourmet dishes all home made like her fritatta, cupcakes, garbanzo salad, a barbecue platter that just would not run empty! We were greeted with excited smiles and big hugs from everyone. Hunter was being passed around like a bottle of good wine as I narrarated my birth triumph while sipping an endless glass of roset.

The party finished in the living room as the Golden State Warriors were in the playoffs. The last time they were in the playoffs the Osmonds had a tv show. I wasn't sure. Hunter slept through four quarters of screaming and yelling at mind blowing decibels. It was the first time I witnessed that my son was apt to noise! My plan had worked. During my pregnancy, I deliberately blared music at ear bleeding levels so he would comply to it in the real world. He was lull to noise. I just didn't want to be that mom that always "shussh" and tip toe. That is annoying!

I tucked Hunter in bed. I watched his little chest rise and fall. Shane had also gone to bed. My life was brand new. A second chance. It was fantastic! Like breathing fresh air. Motherhood was a dream. I am in love with Hunter. I am in love with Shane. I am in love with life. Happy Mothers Day to you all.

This is Shellie from the height of my soul back to you Bob at the studio.

Home is Sweet

We were escorted from the recovery floor down to the car. We were finally released from St. Lukes. Thank god! I couldn’t wait to be home. I haven’t been out, since Monday and to breathe the fresh Cesar Chavez air was a dream! Geeze, I never thought I’d say that in a million years. The car was packed with bouquet of balloons and flowers as we strapped junior in the car seat. I didn’t fret at the new coat of bird droppings on the X5, I was home bound. Hunter began to wail, sounded remarkably like a kitten’s meow, the entire way home.

We entered our driveway as a balloon the size of King Kong’s eyeballs read congratulations was tied to the doorknob. It was from fellow rascal and neighbor Randall. It brought a smile to our face. We’ve lived in Potrero Hill, Mississippi to be exact, for two years and we were treated as lepers. We were shunned with the cold shoulder. Well except for the hip gay guy and the other married couple that lives next door.

Flashback: Next door neighbors Mélange and Helen, yes they’re gay, invited us to their daughter’s (adopted from Guatemala) two year birthday party. We just moved into the neighborhood and thought why not? This was a chance to get to know our neighbors. It was the usual birthday party with a pack of rabid sugar frenzied children scrambling around like they’re brain was on fire. We mingled with the well behaved parents sipping our wine. I made Shane promise that he would not leave my side, but he was swept away by the handsome gay couple.

Alone and scared, a group of parents quickly closed in on me like robots. They dropped with the guillotine of a question, “Do you have kids?” I replied with an understandable, “oh no, but we’re planning to soon.” Smug smirks and sighs, my uncomfortable bones shivered in their dissapointment. Well, that was my queue to let’s get the hell out of this stepford scene. No more than a quick second, Shane upset a mother by exclaiming that her beautiful daughter looked just like our friends daughter, “it was uncanny!” Well, every mother does not want to hear that there’s another kid out there that looks just like her angel!

As I steadily walked up the front steps with stitches in tact, I wondered if the neighbors would finally acknowledge our presence. Would the stepfords come walking out of their doors with fresh baked goods to congratulate the little guy? Would I have to ward them off with garlic and holy water? Who cares! I was home with my family and I couldn’t wait to see how Chloe would behave around the new addition.

This is Shellie from her casa to your casa back to you Bob at the studio!

Starstruck

My chest felt like a race horses galloping to the finish. It is a little after midnight and I can’t wait for the nurse to bring Hunter back into the room. Shane snores like a broken buzz saw on the pull out couch. I, on the other hand, can’t sleep. I anticipate Hunter’s return from the nursery. The nurse finally parks his cart next to my bed. His closed eyelids flutter in dreams. Peaceful. Tears stream down my face. I wonder what he dreams about or does he dream at all? I find it difficult to breath. Effortlessly, I am helpless by his charm.

In a whip and a snap, I was a mother. Heck, it was a mind trip to consider myself a mother. I was having one of those moments. You know one of those pathetically uncontrollable sobby sappy moments. I was highly unqualified and unprepared for this powerfully catastrophic connection. As the television buzz with Law and Order, I am emotionally disordered in awe. I am inspired. I am in love. My eyes explore his gentle existence, his gentle fragile being a mesh of both Shane and me. His chest rise and fall with each inhale. His hands smooth tiny. The stillness of his black hair and his perfectly arched eyebrows, he is adorable. He softly purses his pouty lips, triggering those magical dimples. He is sweetness fortified with heaven and honey butter. Romantic. His presence brings me to my knees. Like magic he brings light to the dark corners of my soul. He softens the jagged edges that life has hardened. I am humble in his existence. He brings rhyme, song, chorus to my life.

This is Shellie trying to get a grip, instead I am a blabbering blub of sap back to you Bob at the studio.

Aftershock

We were wheeled into the recovery room on the fifth floor as the midwife strolled Hunter in his own little glass cart. There he was truth and innocence. So beautiful. Just yesterday he was a big bump in my belly. I couldn’t wait to see him, but my eyes were boulder heavy. I felt like I just returned from a bloody ax battle. My body numb, my head ached, my brain dead. Deliriously content. I looked up at Shane from my wheelchair and smiled. I was ready for bed.

I awoke hours later to flowers, celebrity smut literature, Godiva chocolates. Our cell phones were filled with well wishes and best congrats. Woe is me, a catheter from the epidural protruded from me like a sick joke. It didn’t hurt at all, but that plastic prosthetic device was pretty sci-fi. Gulp, I was scared straight with the thought of going number two. Especially after the stitches, but thank god for stool softeners, ice packets, and ibuprofen.

Gestational diabetes confined us to the hospital another two days. They needed to make sure that the diabetes was under control. In those two days, came a flurry of friends and family to see the heavily anticipated Hunter. I was fine with that except I just wished I was invisible. All the pushing had my face swollen not to mention my legs; I’m surprised my capillaries in my eyeballs didn’t explode. I was Violet Beauregarde from Willy Wonka. Lord almighty. I felt like I could float, float away like a bloating blimp into oblivion. I had to remind myself that it wasn’t about me. Smile.

Vanessa and Anthony, who accidentally found my pregnancy test, has been with us from the very beginning, cheering us on and supporting Hunter with gifts and cards. I mean Vanessa’s been enraptured by the pregnancy, she’s been such a sweetheart. Along with the usual suspects, Angela and KJ, Kurt and Sophia, Alex and Beth, Aunt Nyra, Laurie, Sydney, Alyssa, Shawn, Neil, and Mark. The hospital staff was astounded by the outpour of visitors. I’m thrilled to bits that Hunter is surrounded by positive individuals. He has a lot to look forward to.

This is Shellie awaiting the removal of my catheter back to you Bob at the studio!

It's a Boy!Hunter Styles Kitchen

As the baby lay on my chest, the room glowed with hugs and congratulations. “Hey guys, what is it? The gender?” Everyone laughed, “Wha? You didn't hear? It’s a boy!” I knew it! I silently wished for a boy as I thought it would only be fit, if our future children had a big brother to look up to. I mean we were content on any gender, but secretly I wanted a boy. Smile.

I stated in my birth plan that Shane catch the baby…that didn’t happen, as his confidence in playing catcher was as large as a wheat germ, yet he did participate in the cutting of the umbilical. For a split second there, I witnessed tears from my sweet husband, but not soon enough because he was back on his cell phone making calls to his family and friends telling stories of exhaustion and hardship which made the nurses burst into laughter. He relived the experience as if he was the one that gave birth.

I will relieve you of all after birth details which entailed stitches, cussing, pushing, numbing, and placenta. Gulp. Exactly, that’s all you need to know.

He weighed in at 6 lbs 11 oz and 19 inches long. I scuff at you doctors who were certain the baby would be the size of a galloping watermelon due to the gestational diabetes. He was healthy. I was happy. Shane was happy. The sun kissed the window outside, but there was nothing brighter than our beautiful newborn boy.

This is Shellie wishing I could bottle this exhilarating moment back to you Bob at the Studio.

Push it. Push it Real Good!

After being couped up in a room the size of a shoe box, I was wheeled to a larger room that was labeled delivery. The drugs had silenced my pain, hence I could be sliced and minced with a ginsu knife and I would remain in bliss. I was ready to meet Kitchstar. It was time.

“How are you feeling?” My sister inquired meanwhile today was her birthday. I apologized for having to spend her 50th birthday potentially staring at me with my legs spread. It’s definitely not what I would wish anyone on their 50th anything. Shane sat at my side reading his novel. We were waiting for instruction from the midwife and doctor. There was a peaceful calm that stirred in the room. We were in the eye of the storm.

We were shooting to have Kitchstar before midnight as it was not only my sister’s birthday, but a few close friends including our Bichon Frise. Personally, I didn’t want the baby to share anyone else’s birthday, but that’s just me. It was almost one o’clock in the morning. The midwife prepared me to push by prefacing proper instructions like upon a contraction to breathe in through your nose, but hold your breath and push like your pooping. It sounded simple as Duncan Hines frosting. I was ready. I felt strong. The lights were dim and the room was quiet.

Pushing seemed simple alright, but I never realized that I was an uncoordinated ox. It was hard enough for me to keep my breathing in tact, I could breathe through my nose, but that’s as far as I got. I would have to start all over, because I was exhaling while pushing which in the pushing world is a no-no. On top of everything else, I was pushing with the wrong muscle. The midwife reminded me of my errors enough times that I could spit in her face. So much for my kegle exercises, it came in handy as group of midgets at a tea party. So much for my prenatal pilates, my prenatal yoga, and all the hours spent on the elliptical. I was doomed to hell!

My blood pressure, my blood sugar, my pitocin increase, my decrease of epiduro mingled in my veins like a block party. The lights were soft and dim, a damp towel cooled my forehead, an oxygen mask regulated my breathing. Subsequent to being told that my birthing was the most calm in world history, the spiritual experience was broken by the bright lights and the order of business. Pushing was the real business and my contractions became painfully apparent, I begged for more epiduro like a fiend. But I was denied. Instead, I was rewarded with a nice bag of cold ice to bring the swelling down. I didn’t feel any swelling, evidently I was swollen as a bloated pig down there. I was recommending to take a thirty minute break, but I couldn’t sit through another series of contractions without pushing. They were insane!

The pain was a pain unlike any other, tears and fear were one with contraction. I should be excited, but I couldn’t see past the moment. It came in waves and I was supposed to push with every incoming contraction. I could not see the light at the end of the tunnel, but my husband and siblings could see farther past I could feel. “Your almost there!” Everyone cheered from the sidelines, but I was exhausted. Tired. I felt failure. I felt myself failing. Falling. I can really see eye to eye with Sisyphus, because all this pushing was going no where. I was exasperated. I wanted out. As I pushed on the fourth hour my sister mentioned that the sun was rising. The mere mention that the sun was rising made me throw the oxygen mask off and forfeit this whole birth gig. It had been a grueling journey. I pushed hard, but not hard enough. Someone put the oxygen mask back on and slopped a wet towel on my forehead. Suddenly, the cheering got louder, “push, push, push!” The doctor grooved her hands somewhere down there making way for Kitchstar. Dr. Birmingham’s calm voice like she lured the newborn into the light. In the meantime, I screamed with all my might and propelled Kitchstar from me! I think I heard something about his shoulders coming through...ouch...with the instant pain of a rip, the baby was on my chest.

This is Shellie with a face streaming with tears and a newborn on my chest back to you Bob at the Studio.

Let the Games Begin

I was scheduled for an induction on Monday. As there has been an abnormal wave of births at St. Luke’s my abduction has been pushed back five days. If I have any say in the future and it is this…just say no to inductions. Yikes! I was confined to the bed and 18 hours later, a good deal of morphine, 4 cervix checks later, my water broke. Break it did! “Pop!” It was a sound that produced a gush of liquid from between my legs. My eyes widened as I instantly screeched, “My water broke!” Shane’s been on his cell to the outside world conveying the play by play to friends and family. The ball was rolling and I had Shane and my two sisters at my side. I was a bit guilty as they had taken time off to be at my side and a day was wasted on ripening my cervix.

Pitocin. Oh thy vile inducer! My veins pumped that poison to regulate contractions and with every contraction, preceded water. I was a sloppy mess. Furthermore, my contractions began to quicken and with that quicken came lower back pain. Coercing my body to produce this baby was unnatural. At the same time, I was relieved as the last week had born subtle stretch marks on my lower belly. Ah, the vanity. Smile.

The lower back pain increased and finally, I pleaded for an epiduro. All I remember was carefully being instructed to curl my spine so the anesthesiologist insert the needle into my spine. Upon future contractions, I was to keep silent and still during the procedure. Shane, my crutch, assisted me in this process. In the midst of the procedure, I could feel the pang of a contraction beginning to unfold …so I stuttered, “a contraction is starting.” “Just breathe with me.” Shane instructed, “Look into my eyes and just breathe with me.” Meanwhile, Shane went pale, if I didn’t know any better I think he was on the verge of fainting. Following the procedure, he admitted the sight of blood shooting from my spine made him ill. It was over in five minutes. The magic drug was in full play. Praise god! Praise the lord! Praise! Praise.

I was perfect now. I felt great! I went back to bed! I felt heavenly. Ten o’clock rolled around and another cervix check later and I was 8 centimeters. It was time to push.

This is Shellie scared poopless to push back to you Bob at the Studio.

Final Countdown

Today, may be the big day! I go in for my final ultra sound which will lead to my induction. For the past few weeks, I’ve been working aggressively with my acupuncturist to ripen my cervix via herbs and needles. I know it all sounds like a scientific experiment, but like I’ve said before not a huge fan of western medicine. Instant gratification i.e. pills scare the hell out of me. Thanks to eastern medicine, several Braxton Hicks, contractions, assisting in the ripening of my cervix resulting in effacing and dilating.

It’s been a long road considering my gestational diabetes and all the havoc it wreaked. Furthermore, I’ve had enough of bed rest, talk shows, and chick flicks. Huh, I never thought I’d ever admit such horror! We’re so, to say the least, ecstatic! I’ve had enough of my weeble wobble stride. I have to roll out of sitting position which has put a dagger in my vulnerability. Besides, stretch marks are starting to wall the bottom of my belly, although for all the girlish fuss I’ve made, they’re not that bad. I can deal with the subtleties.

After Kitchstar is born….Note to self:
1. Devour the box of 16 piece nuts and chews Godiva Chocolates.
2. Beg for Patron silver chilled up.
3. Ask for another Patron silver chilled up.

Before I close, I would like to thank the academy…kidding…Tracy Massillon for all of her insight and referrals to making this pregnancy magical. I would also like to thank my superb husband Shane for always being the foundation of my happiness, despite my confessions on this blog. Finally, I would like to thank my family and friends for all your generous support. You have made my first pregnancy memorable. Sniffle.

Think well thoughts today as this may be my final entry as the coolest pregster…until the next pregnancy…

This is Shellie scared poopless to push, but excited as hell to meet my creation, back to you Bob at the Studio.