Believe in the Flowers.

Carol of the Zombie Jesus!

I will admit that there is a significant amount of guilt associated with going over a month without posting anything, even a meager update, to a blog that I know at least a couple of poor souls read (even though I'm sure they have better things to do with their time). I have excuses, pathetic as they are, and most of them revolve around the alien creature that has contently taken over my body and any semblance of coherent thought. I had blissfully forgotten about the maddening mood swings, the crazed hormonal imbalance that is pregnancy, and thus had forgotten how to deal with the depression that comes along with all of this. I argued with myself for some time about the appropriate response to my hormones; do I blog anyway and risk alienating a number of readers who think I've gone over the edge and emo, or do I take a short break and recollect my thoughts? I took the latter route, although I will say that a lot has been missed thanks to this "break."

Namely, last Tuesday (January 27th), The Kid was in an accident.

I shouldn't say that he was IN an accident, so much as there was one; no cars were involved, but we were shopping at a local furniture store and he fell off of a flight of stairs thanks to unsecured rails. It was one of those fluke of nature things, where, naturally, in the two seconds he had let go of my hand, he slipped between the posts and fell some seven or so feet straight down onto his back. The floor beneath was concrete, and needless to say there was some injury suffered. We had a horrible time with our local hospital, which included arriving by ambulance with our little boy strapped to a full body board, then having to wait half an hour before anybody even came in to look at him. Nine hours later we were driving 45 mph down the highway to St. Louis Children's Hospital, aware only that our son had a slight sub-something hematoma (a bleed beneath the skull) and a c-shaped fracture along the sutures in his skull. A drive that should have taken 2 1/2 hours became closer to 3 1/2 thanks to horrible weather conditions south of us. Thankfully, things have turned out all right; we stayed one day for observation and were released to come back home the following day. Other than a nasty headache, The Kid has been doing reasonably well, with no significant changes in personality or mood.

Of course, that wasn't enough: within a few days, he developed an upper respiratory infection that has ended in Azithromyacin, finally prescribed by his pediatrition after two days of no sleep and little food intake, a lot of throwing up, and a horrible temperature (103.4) that resulted in a useless visit to the emergency room (we were told, "It's just a viral thing, give him Benadryl"). He's still sick, but doing better when all things are considered. The downside is that now I'm getting sick, too, and am certainly feeling the effects of what I am positive is a sinus infection. It's a couple of months late for the season, but I hope it won't be all that bad.

So I'm still struggling with a lot of internal guilt, as is Husband, though we both know that nothing the past week has given us is at all our fault. Someone thought all of this needed to happen, and it has, and everything has more or less turned out okay. The Kid's skull is still fractured, but will heal on its own given time. Illnesses come and go, and come the end of July I will hopefully be able to rid myself of at least a little of this hormonal insanity - only to likely deal with more for different reasons.

No news on when we get to go for our "big" ultrasound to find out the gender of Kid Two; my assumption is that it will be sometime at the end of the month or beginning of March. We're hoping for a girl, because it'd be a lovely change of pace, and I can't think of any good boy names.

Otherwise, we're doing all right. Which, I guess, is all we could ask for right now.