Tater was born in the midst of tragedy. In April of 2005 the Big Munky and I tried for Baby #2, really hoping for a boy. In May, the night before the Princess' 3rd birthday party, I grabbed part of an extension cord that had the wires exposed and was laying in wet grass. Ouch.
The next few days I bled, but nothing hurt so I wasn't worried--all the forums and message boards and whatnot said that some bleeding early on in pregnancy is normal, so we went on with life. My first doctor's visit came, and I got all excited to see our little munky on the ultrasound monitor. . .but there was nothing there. Absolutely nothing.
My bloodwork still showed the hormones, but over the next couple of days it was checked again and again to find that it was dropping dramatically. I was told that the hormone would show up in small amounts for the next 6 weeks or so.
A couple of months later, my baby cousin (well, not so much a baby at 19, but always a baby to us) Mischa Jo passed away. She'd fought a long, hard battle with cystic fibrosis. That was a hard shot to our family,
Then the Big Munky's closest cousin committed suicide. Though I didn't know him well, it hit Munky pretty hard and seeing him try to move forward and be stoic
I started working at the preschool that August.
So it turned out that I was pregnant the whole time. Except for a week, I was preggers for a year. Nuts. This time, the pregnancy was great. I craved potatoes every day, and my friend Des would often call local eateries to see who had tater soup ready to deliver for lunch. Thus, we called her Tater and have ever since.
In January, my little brother Austin Lavelle passed away from Wilson's Disease--something he'd had since birth that no one had ever caught.
Then, in February, Tater was born--this beautiful, chunky little munky that couldn't've been more perfect. We named her Ashby Joelle, her middle name a combination of my cousin and brother's. She nursed without a problem, slept just fine, and loved being swaddled and cuddled and loved. With her arrival, things started coming back together. She was our family's saving grace and I cannot imagine how things would've turned out had she not come along.
She's always been my "mini-me." In appearance, temper, personality, humor, empathy, and the dirty looks we give idiots, she is like my clone. That's pretty cool.
Today, Tater is 7. That's hard to fathom, because she will always be that chunky little baby with the curly pigtails and hilarious Muppet laugh. Happy Birthday, baby girl, you are more special than you will ever realize.
The next few days I bled, but nothing hurt so I wasn't worried--all the forums and message boards and whatnot said that some bleeding early on in pregnancy is normal, so we went on with life. My first doctor's visit came, and I got all excited to see our little munky on the ultrasound monitor. . .but there was nothing there. Absolutely nothing.
My bloodwork still showed the hormones, but over the next couple of days it was checked again and again to find that it was dropping dramatically. I was told that the hormone would show up in small amounts for the next 6 weeks or so.
A couple of months later, my baby cousin (well, not so much a baby at 19, but always a baby to us) Mischa Jo passed away. She'd fought a long, hard battle with cystic fibrosis. That was a hard shot to our family,
Then the Big Munky's closest cousin committed suicide. Though I didn't know him well, it hit Munky pretty hard and seeing him try to move forward and be stoic
I started working at the preschool that August.
So it turned out that I was pregnant the whole time. Except for a week, I was preggers for a year. Nuts. This time, the pregnancy was great. I craved potatoes every day, and my friend Des would often call local eateries to see who had tater soup ready to deliver for lunch. Thus, we called her Tater and have ever since.
In January, my little brother Austin Lavelle passed away from Wilson's Disease--something he'd had since birth that no one had ever caught.
Then, in February, Tater was born--this beautiful, chunky little munky that couldn't've been more perfect. We named her Ashby Joelle, her middle name a combination of my cousin and brother's. She nursed without a problem, slept just fine, and loved being swaddled and cuddled and loved. With her arrival, things started coming back together. She was our family's saving grace and I cannot imagine how things would've turned out had she not come along.
She's always been my "mini-me." In appearance, temper, personality, humor, empathy, and the dirty looks we give idiots, she is like my clone. That's pretty cool.
