Brammer Family

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

I Lost

For the past few weeks whenever Hudson and I went out, I kept getting a lot of "oh, look at those curls!! She is so cute!" She? "She" who is wearing the shirt with the fire trucks and transformer shoes? Is that the "she" you're referring to? People. Hmph. But then, when Hudson starting waking up from his nap looking like this...

....it could be avoided no longer. I finally broke. It was time for my "girl" to get HIS first haircut. We walked across the street to our lovely neighbor who has been entrusted with the rest of the Brammer hair. That's right. Oh, oh. We have a hair stylist in our neighborhood. In our neighborhood. In our neigh-bor-hood! Ah, Sesame Street. I use you more everyday than anything I learned in high school.

I don't know who was more nervous, me or Jeb. I was worried that after this cut Hudson would lose all his curls. So, I told Jeb that if that happened we were going to continue to have children until I got another little curly haired baby. That's when Jeb started to panic. Hudson was just fine with all of it. The scissors made him a little nervous at first, but only for a second. He sat still and watched all the happenings in the mirror.

The curls remained, and even became curlier with some of the weight off. Thank goodness. I don't know how many more kids I could have handled until those ringlets resurfaced.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Hudson's Paternity - THE RESULTS!

The test results are back, and I am ready to reveal the father of my 4th child, Hudson Mitchel. Ready?

Art Garfunkel....you..... ARE the father!!! (Shouts and cheers from the Maury crowd. Jeb starts to cry and storms off the stage. Art and I embrace.)

Oh, you bet I'll be cashing in those child support checks. I've hit the mother lode. Bridge over troubled water like crazy.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

From 4 to 2

I was working at the computer when out of the corner of my eye I saw a purple flash race past the house on the sidewalk. Jeb came in and asked "Did you see Leah?" He reported to me that she had entered the 2 wheel club and ushered into the big kids, big bike league. "I didn't even see you chasing her up and down the street!" "Nope" he replied. "I just took the training wheels off and away she went. She was ready."

I wasn't ready, though. She is going so fast, and not just on her bike.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Holden Rudolf

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

He Is Here

Holden Rudolf Brammer was born Sunday March 28, 2010 at 11:42 p.m.

I was hoping that the trend of our babies getting smaller each time would continue, but Holden had other ideas on that. He weighed in at 9 pounds 10 ounces, and was 23 inches long. He is our biggest baby by almost 2 pounds. My doctor suggested naming him Hercules.

We were all surprised. When the nurses took him to do his evaluation, they just kept exclaiming "Oh my goodness! Almost 10 pounds!". The delivery was very hard. Up until now, pushing has been kept to a minimum. Not with this guy. I had to work to get this bruiser here. Luckily, I had one of my cousins-in-law, Corinne Scott, there to help me. And oh, how I fell in love with the epidural man. I love him so, so much. Way more than Jeb. No contest.

The kids came the next day to meet their new little brother.

Holden and all of his mamas.

The biggest sister.

Our first big brother.

Leah loves the new addition.

And Hudson, you ask? How did he like seeing the baby? Well, just take a look at the picture of all 5 of them and you decide what he thinks.

Hysterical. I've been getting the cold shoulder from him ever since. We're working on it.

We still had no name for this big ball of love by the time we were supposed to be leaving. The yellow paper just sat, and sat, and sat on the table the entire time I was there. With every shift change my new nurse would ask if I was ready for her to take it, and I would deflatedly sigh and shake my head. The pressure was mounting. I called Jeb at night after he put the kids down so we could try and brainstorm something, ANYTHING, to name this cuddle monkey. Every visitor and nurse was asked for opinions. Bo and I scoured the phone book under "H" to see if any inspiration was to be found.

We finally landed on Holden Rudolf. Jeb got his "H" name, and the middle name is after my opa, Rudolf Gustav Wobbe. Abigail loves the Rudolf because she says that opa "helped save Germany".

The day we came home was wonderful. My mom and dad and Bo had come to give us a new baby heart attack. It was probably my favorite part of having this big guy. I loved it. I'm sure the post baby hormones had something to do with it, but seeing all the work they did for us made my heart swell to the point of tears.

We are so blessed to have had this bundle delivered to us safely. Now we are loving being back in this new baby place again. I am soaking up the delicious smell of a warm baby head on my chest, melting at the feel of big cheeks pooling on my shoulder, spending the day counting chins, and trying to memorize every minute of newborn he gives me. See me swooning?

Saturday, March 20, 2010

The Big Number Two For Old Blue Eyes

Hudson is now 2 years old. He doesn't feel that old since he still doesn't talk. At all. He does say dad, car (with the Brooklyn accented cah), fish (sheesh), shark (darsh), don't, yes (des), and the at least 1000 times a day favorite word... ball. But still no mom. Traitor. He even says basketball. How can the word basketball be easier to say than mom? I am officially offended.

Here is the big #2 in pictures of our Buster:

He loves her the best.

He thinks he is the funniest.

He is learning to tolerate this one.

His favorite things.

His favorite place.

He does this when he doesn't want to eat.

And this.

And this.

We call it the wrist action. He twists his hand inward and will only swat at the incoming utensil with the back of his wrist. I know. He's weird. But it cracks me up.

His hair is still awesome. He's 2 years old and no haircut yet. Mom is winning that one!

This guy can light up a room. He is so happy and so crazy that you have no choice but to laugh. And once he knows he's got you going, he will stop at nothing to keep it up. He's our growling, face pulling, Hakka dancing, ball throwing, funny guy. And even though he won't say mom, I love him more than anything. Happy birthday, Buster Blue Eyes.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Check, Check, Check

I usually like the word "check". It seems like an efficient little word. You use it as you are clearing off your things to do list. Did I do this? Check. Did I do this? Check. Ah, accomplishment.

I also like the payment kind of check. Those are always fun to get as well. Who doesn't love depositing or cashing a check? No one, I tell you. We can all get together on at least that one.

But, this other kind of check I think should be called something else. I don't know what word to use, but certainly something not as fun as "check". Yup. I'm there. I have to be "checked" at the doctor once a week now. It's fine. It's fine. Good information, at least. Although, if the good man doesn't tell me that I'm at like a 53, I can't vouch for his personal safety.

To mark the blessed occasion, Bo came over to give us all pedi's. We were thinking that if I had cute toes, I could use my feminine wiles to convince the doctor to just admit me right there on the spot. Or, at least I wouldn't be embarrassed by the toes that I haven't seen in about 4 months. Isn't she thoughtful? We love Bo.

Check, check, check, check, and check. She got us all. Even Harrison, until he got too wiggly and spread dark blue polish all over the carpet. Then he was done. But the rest of us have lovely toes complete with dainty little flowers. We tried to get a picture of my feet, but they have taken a cue from my belly and are far too swollen to fit into any regular camera lens. Tree trunk comes to mind. As does disgusting, inhuman, and just gaping jawed silence. This has got to end soon. Everyone be thinking big numbers.

Thanks, Bo. This helps so much with my "I look ridiculous" attitude.

Monday, March 8, 2010

Thinking About...

This guy.

It seems with every new baby that blesses our home, I go into a funk right before they come. It's actually a little bit of a mourning. I look at my babies and realize that things are going to change for them. And I don't want things to change for them, especially because they had no choice in the matter. I know all about the miraculous ability of a mom's heart to multiply in its ability to multiply the love. I've been so fortunate to experience that 4 times now, and it still never ceases to amaze me. Just when you think you can't love anything or anybody as much as you do the little monkeys you have, suddenly a new one comes and immediately is right up there with the rest of the bunch. I always worry that our new additions will end up spending their lives in the crib, since there is no way they will be as much fun, or as cute, or as worthy of love as the kids I've got, but so far that has never happened. Immediately, I love them the most. Just like I love all the others the most.

But, there is something that can't be multiplied, no matter how hard I try. The time. I know that with this new baby, everyone will get 20% less. 20% less time, 20% less attention, 20% less mom. This poor new addition is at a disadvantage already. He only starts at 20%. Does that make him the underdog right off the bat, or does the 20% loss the others will sustain make them suffer more? I don't know. Anyway you look at it, it makes me sad.

Hudson is the youngest "big" sibling we have had. He is a good 9 months younger than Abigail and Harrison were when we had a new baby, and he is 3 months younger than Leah was when he came along. But, he just seems so much smaller. It doesn't help that the kid doesn't talk. Or eat. That just makes him feel so, so little. When my belly began to explode with Hudson, Leah was already in full conversation mode. She would tell people that there was a "blue baby" in mommy's tummy. So, we knew that she at least understood there was something going on. We felt a little more prepared for the transition with her. But it feels like Hudson has absolutely no idea what is about to happen. All he knows is that mom doesn't carry him around as much as she used to, and she walks funny. How is that preparation to become a big brother? I worry.

I guess all I can do is my best and try to be as forgiving of myself as these cute little faces seem to be. I just have to make sure I let each of them know as often as I can that they are my favorite, which should be easy since they all are.

Look at that face. He has no idea what is coming. Poor guy. Big Brother is a big title. He can do it, though. If not, I'll just have a whole bunch of new balls on hand to distract him. That will make him happy.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Birthday Boy Bubba

Harrison is now officially 7 years old. Abigail wouldn't allow us to say that until after 6:00 p.m., since that's when he made his entrance into this crazy swinging sphere.

Unlike Abigail, Harrison was handed to us on a silver platter. When Jeb mentioned the idea of a baby #2, I agreed to it only because I thought we would have another 3-4 years to prepare, just like we did for Abigail. But that was not to be. Harrison was already lined up at the starting gate, just waiting to burst forth with his giant smile and heart to match. I love those starting gates.

Harrison is our tender hearted boy's boy. He is our sharer. When he came home with his birthday treats from school, he immediately offered them up to his sisters and brother; nobody even had to ask him. He is always the first one to tell mom or his sisters that they look pretty today. But he can also hold his own with all of his burly boy buddies. He's a shoot-em-up, throw the ball, run the race kind of kid, too. It's the perfect combination.

Happy birthday, bubba. I love, love, love, love you.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Walk It Off

We have come to that point in my pregnancy, my friends, that is the really scary part.

I am gigantic. Huge. Obscenely huge to be more precise. I would take a picture and show you, but I don't have a wide angle lens. Why would I want to do that anyway? I am miserable enough without having to actually see what everyone else is seeing. Instead, I will give you a visual that will help you picture me in my current state. On Sunday it was starting to snow on our way to church. Did anybody need an umbrella? Nope. All 4 kids managed to stay dry from the snow in the ample cover of my ridiculous belly. Yup. All 4. And nobody even complained that anybody was touching them, or that they were squished, or anything like that. I was like the lady in the Nutcracker who has all those acrobatic children under her skirt. Except the giant skirt was not created with massive hoops and the like. It's just my enormous belly which really did and does house all those children.

We are to the point that I am wearing the same thing every single day. Did you see me today? I'll be wearing the exact same outfit tomorrow! And, if I'm lucky and manage to not spill anything or have any grubby hands come up and grab me to climb into my nonexistent lap, I'll wear the same thing the next day, too. And if I do spill, it has to be on top of the mountain, not under the rim. If I can't see the spill from my perspective up here, it doesn't exist. Have I no shame, you ask? Nope. Not a bit, I answer. If it fits today, you bet I'm gonna wear it tomorrow. We are down to that.

Everything hurts. Every single thing. If I sit down for even just one minute, when I try to get up again my poor hips scream in protest. "How can you do this to us?!? AGAIN!!" they demand to know. And at this point, I am asking myself that very same question.

As I am hobbling around the house, trying to get something - ANYTHING accomplished, I hear my dad's voice in my head repeating over and over again "Walk it off! Walk it off!" He being a sports kind of person could bring that up whenever we were injured; along with a swift, warming rub, and enough kisses to soothe the hurt. So, that's what I am trying to do - walk it off. But in pregnancy, the phrase "walk it off" has a different definition. I will explain:

When I say "walk", I really mean waddle. Add in the pain in the hips and there is a shuffle with that. Does that mean I am waffling? Shuddling? Anyway, getting to the phone before the answering machine picks up is completely out of the question. You'll just have to keep encouraging me in your message, and I'll get there eventually.

When I say "it", I mean the baby, of course. Or in my case, either the giant, world record breaking, HUGE baby, or the 14 individual babies that are there. Did I mention that I am enormous right now?

When I say "off", I mean I am so done with being pregnant. This child has just got to come. I will take the contractions and all the fun stuff that goes along with labor just to be finished. Bring it.

Abigail came at 35 weeks and she turned out okay, right? Well, aside from being the queen of 9 year old attitudes and drama, she's okay. Besides, this baby is a boy. He'll do even better. Let's just try it. I'll give my doctor a call right now.

Monday, February 1, 2010

One Year Ago Today - The Superbowl

So, yeah. The Superbowl. It's a fun day for us. None of us really take the game seriously, since the Packers haven't been there in FOR-E-VER. We just use it as an excuse to eat for about 14 hours straight and watch goofy commercials. Football was a staple in our house while growing up, so another game doesn't really do anything for me. Doesn't matter if it's well played or a blowout.

But this one was more suspenseful. We knew that mom wanted to talk to us about what was going on, and just waited until she felt comfortable doing it. Then she gathered us in her room to let us in on the testing that has been going on and the results she had so far. She tells us that tomorrow she is expecting results from the chest CT, and to schedule the EKG.

I can usually remember a little bit about the Superbowls in the years following. Give me a couple of minutes and I can tell you which teams were playing, who won, and a little bit more information for a few years back. But as far as last year's stats I come up completely blank. I can't remember who played, who won, or any of the commercials. I couldn't tell you what we ate, who did the half time show, or who it was that ended up going to Disneyland. I only remember sitting on her bed and listening to her tell us what was going on. And then starting the clock ticking until we got the results the next day.

Sunday, January 31, 2010

One Year Ago Today - Ryan's Cabin

On this Saturday the 31st we are headed up to our friend's Ryan's cabin. I was not looking forward to the snow, but the kids were. We were excited and happy and on our way. Once we get up there though, the phone calls start coming and begin to darken my getaway.

We had just arrived in the cabin, started up a fire, and began warming some water on the stove when Bo called. She let me in on the testing that had been done. I think at this point she was pretty sure what was going on, but we started throwing out other ideas to see if any of it made sense to Dr. Bo and her P.A. Robyn. We began our focus on her heart.

It could be congestive heart failure, right? That would be fine. That's totally treatable.

She could have a pacemaker. That's almost routine nowadays, isn't it?

If that's not it, people live on artificial hearts forever now, and heart transplant surgeries are done, like, everyday, right? That's a good option.

Then we focus on her lungs. Tuberculosis. That's it. Never mind that she has never been exposed to TB, or ever had it before in her life, we decide that could be a feasible answer to the spots and the cough.

COPD? Maybe? Does that show up on x-rays? Does that manifest itself in a gut wrenching cough? What do you think? Maybe? Maybe?

We have hashed over everything our non-medical schooled minds can come up with. It's decided we'll talk more about it tomorrow. Sunday is the Super Bowl and we'll all be together. Mom wants to discuss it more with all of us then.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

One Year Ago Today - More Testing

The chest x-ray and sinus CT results come back and Dr. Dubowski calls my mom and tells her that she needs to come into the office that day.

Probably not the best sign.

The sinus CT is normal. Nothing going on there. No surprise to mom that she doesn't have a sinus infection, since the antibiotics that are strong enough to cure a horse aren't having any effect on her cough.

It's the chest x-ray that they are concerned about. Mom's heart, big as it is already, looks gigantic on the x-ray. Instead of encompassing the space of just a portion of one lung, hers filled almost both lungs. Enlarged heart was an understatement. Plus, there may be some spots on her lungs that are a little concerning. Dr. Dubowski tells mom to go right away and have a chest CT, and puts in an order for an EKG. Off to Jordan Valley Hospital for the CT, and then home to wait for a call back on an appointment for the EKG.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

One Year Ago Today - Another Visit and Testing

Mom had only been on this second round of antibiotics for 1 week. Things were not going well. As it turns out, she is allergic to this new medicine, a realization that came after being covered in hives. Plus, the cough is getting much, much worse. The she-can't-catch-her-breath kind of worse. Coughing so hard she is throwing up worse. So, on back to Dr. Dubowski.

Dr. Dubowski orders a sinus CT for mom to do right away. She goes on over to St. Mark's this time (remember Alta View? Jerks.) and does the sinus CT and the chest x-ray one right after the other. And then goes home to wait for results.

There was something that happened while undergoing these tests. I don't think we realized it until later, but it started with these first (of many, many more to come) scans. While having them done, she didn't cough. She was able to lie still enough for the radiation people to get an accurate picture. It went unnoticed at the time, but in looking back she was amazingly blessed. I think if she wasn't able to lie still enough for the length of time needed to get the x-ray and CT, the doctors wouldn't have been able to tell right away what was going on. It was another tender mercy that we were able to see more clearly afterwards. When I look back on these frantic times, I am able to see how she was guided with every single step. Not one of us, even though we had no idea what was about to come our way, was being left alone.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Superstition and the Tie-Breaker

When my dad was younger he played baseball every chance he got and, believe you me, he was the brute of Sorenson Park. Nobody dared mess with that boy from Arapaho Avenue, I tell you what. My dad played the position of catcher. He was his own version of the Sandlot's Ham. Only scrawnier and, I imagine, mustached already. I'm sure he sprouted his 'stache at the same time his first teeth appeared.

If you don't know the Great Hambino from the Sandlot, first of all shame on you. You are officially an L-7 wienie. Yeah, yeah, Oscar Meyer, even. Foot long! Dodger dog! A WIENIE!! Secondly you must stop reading this immediately, go and find a copy of the movie and properly immerse yourself in this cinema classic. You can thank me as soon as the credits roll. We can discuss the injustice of it being overlooked for an Oscar some other time.

Now, what this did to my dad during his impressionable youth was two fold. First off, it made him a champ at the smack talk. I can see him crouching down behind home plate antagonizing the heck out of the batters and messing with their heads. "Is that your sister out in left field? Naked? You think she'd go out with me?" Warning them of the pitch that was about to come their way and laughing with each strike. Yup, that's my dad. Go golfing with him just one time. You'll see it.

Secondly, as with any baseball player, but especially the catchers, it made him crazy superstitious. Everything said and done on a winning day was continued until the luck was drained out of the ritual. If you wore a blue shirt and happened to lose a game that day, you would never dare dream of wearing that cursed shirt again. Even now you won't find him saying or doing anything that was done on one of his teams losing days. I would give you specifics, but that would be bad luck. You understand.

This is the trait that fortunately (you have to say fortunately when talking about superstition, right?) is the one that was passed on genetically to me. I'm no good at the trash talk, but boy do I have my superstitions. This was made very clear when we found out we were expecting our #5. Everyone would ask "What are you hoping for? Boy or girl?", and I would always reply with "Oh, it doesn't matter. As long as the baby is healthy and smaller than 8 pounds I will be happy". But really, I had my preference. I just didn't reveal that preference for fear of the jinx. I even had a name picked out for said preference, but I wouldn't tell Jeb what that was, and didn't let him know if it was a pink name or a blue name. No sense in tempting fate. We had to find out what we were having before I would breathe a word of it.

And then came the day of the ultrasound. Nervous doesn't come close to describing how I felt. This was the day that officially made me a mom of 5(!). I wasn't sure if I even wanted to go in that tiny, dimly lit room. I was having more than just doubts about my ability to do this again. Suddenly superstitions and preferences for gender were thrown out the window; and only then came the realization that healthy and growing well really were what I was hoping for. I knew that boy or girl wasn't important. We are being blessed with a new baby, and I am incredibly thankful for that. A whisper came of "everything will be okay, no matter the color of the blankets" and that brought me great comfort.

So, what did we see that day, you ask? Who wins the tie breaker?

Girls: 2

Boys: 3

Blue blankets it is. I think he'll be a catcher himself when he gets bigger. Hopefully without the mustache, though, but just as good a trash talker.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

One Year Ago Today - Antibiotics Round 2

It had been 2 weeks since starting antibiotics, and nothing was happening. My mom wasn't getting any better at all. The cough was still there, every waking and every resting minute of the day and night. So, back to Dr. Dubowski's it was. Another round of antibiotics was ordered, this one being much, much stronger than the first. The prescription for an x-ray was there and waiting, but the doctor could still hear nothing in mom's lungs. It was decided to give some time to this new prescription and see how things went.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

One Year Ago Today - The First Appointment

So, Bo found a doctor close to my mom's work and able to see her after work hours. Bo was actually calling about another doctor, but he was not taking new patients. Frustrated, Bo asked "is there anybody in your office who is?" and they put my mom down with Dr. Dubowski.

Or Dr. Druebowski

Or Dr. Dubraski.

However my dad says her name at any point in time. It has never been the same pronunciation twice.

Dr. Dubowski was kind and patient. She listened to my mom's lungs very carefully and could hear nothing. So, she wrote my mom a prescription for antibiotics, suspecting some kind of sinus infection. And, even though she couldn't hear anything to warrant one, she also wrote a prescription for a chest x-ray, given my sister's insistence. My mom went to Alta View Hospital to have the chest x-ray performed, but nobody was interested in giving her any attention. After waiting there far longer than necessary, she decided to leave. Dr. Dubowski wasn't concerned about her lungs, why should my mom sit forever just to have nobody help her, right? She decided to let the antibiotics do their thing, and left Alta View without her chest x-ray.

Thanks a lot, Alta View Radiology Department. Thanks a lot.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

One Year Ago Today - The First Phone Call

Last year my guys had the school schedule that had them off for over a month after Christmas. I love that schedule. I love any schedule where they are home, really. To help pass the time and to try to vaccinate ourselves against cabin fever, we ventured out to our local JoAnn's to find some crafty distractions. As we wandered up and down the rows with the boxed kits, my phone rang. It was Bo.

It was the phone call that really started it all.

She was worried about mom. Apparently, without me noticing, my mom had gotten a terrible cold sometime between Halloween and Thanksgiving. After recovering from the cold, there was a cough that lingered. A bad cough. A cough that would not let up and no over the counter medicine could cure. This was a cough that apparently kept getting worse over time, no matter how long my mom waited for it to just get better. But, she did wait. The holidays were coming and she wanted to get through those. She always works herself into overdrive during that time. There is actually an entire week called "Cookie Week" where she bakes a crazy amount of cookies to give to family and neighbors. So, maybe if we could just wait until after things settled down and she could rest, this nasty cough would heal itself.

Of course it did not heal itself. In fact it got much, much worse. Bo revealed to me on the phone that this cough of hers was so bad that it was keeping my parents up at night. She could not sleep lying down because it aggravated things. So she and my dad slept on the couch during the few continuous moments where she could breathe comfortably. My dad propped himself sitting up against the edge of the couch, and my mom propped herself up against him. They would doze off when her chest was calm, and then he would help her through when the cough came back to wake them up.

My mom was working as much as she could just to get sick time. Between the cold and the holidays, she had used up every hour she had. So, she would go to work feeling lousy until she could accrue some time off. Once she had earned those 8 hours of vacation, she took a day off to try to recover. It was a vicious cycle. One in which she never really got any rest at all.

Bo was calling doctor after doctor located around my mom's office to try to get her an appointment right away, and at a time where my mom didn't have to miss work. After a few attempts, she found a physician who could see her on January 6th; which was the first of many, many, many tender mercies to come.

We ended our phone call and the kids made their selections. In thinking back I still can't remember what activities we picked out. Things were kind of in a blur. It was just the beginning of the frustration of wanting so desperately to do something, but not being able to. Oh how little did I know.

We left the store and all I could think about was my parents trying to get some rest out in the family room. The two of them just leaning on each other trying to make it through the night. She beginning to cough, and he right beside her, rubbing her back and arms, trying to comfort her in spite of his worries. So sweet. Everyone knows that what they have is special. The two of them are the supreme example to me of everything good in marriage. They were married so, so young but really the odds were always in their favor. They had and still have what it takes to make things work. Even in the middle of an excruciatingly long night, in the face of no rest, they supported each other. Literally.

The story will continue.