Friday, November 28, 2008


I just want to know something.

Who breaks their foot when they are pregnant?



I do. That's who.

So, I broke my foot Wednesday night. I broke my sorry-tail-good-for-nothing-right-foot Wednesday night toodling down the stairs after taking a fantastic bubble bath. I rolled my ankle and put all one hundred and something something pounds on one teeny, tiny little bone in my right foot. I hit the ground, threw the plate in my hands and have never hurt so much in my life.

I hurt so much I drooled.

Will asked if I could wiggle my toes once the crying eased up. Ohhhhh, wiggling the toes was the worst, the crying was worse, the hiccuping was worse, the pain was worse, the drool was worse, everything was worse.

Husband was mean to make me wiggle my toes. But, he learned that I did not tear any ligaments from the toe wiggling. I guess that's good.

After tracking down awesome Dr. Tucker to see if I needed to go to the ER (I did) and loading my good-for-nothing right foot in the sexy new car, we're off to the MCG ER.

One melt down, two nurse visits, and six doctors stopping in my room later, amputation was the case that they gave me.

Okay, amputation is an exaggeration- we all know how I like things symmetrical.

I did break my fifth metatarsal though. (That's the bone behind the pinky toe) It's a spiral fracture (that means I broke it good- real good). No surgery, just a sexy blue boot (again) and 6 weeks staying off of it.

So much for driving.

They are worried about DBTs (??)-- clots-- so I have to wiggle my ankle to keep the blood flowing. No problems there though. I don't want to spend the holidays dead, Clark.

The Cagles were great & I felt like a dog I could not play with them more. Crutching around the house though wears one out.

Things I should have been thankful on Tuesday, when I last blogged... my right foot and the 26 bones that were in tact in my right foot. Now, I have 25 bones in tact and two .5 bones waiting to be fused together again.

With a baby on the way.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Thankful for Tangerines

Whoever said that nausea passes at the end of the first trimester... lied. This morning I even threw up my Zofron!

I guess those are the breaks.

Twelve weeks. Poppy has taste buds all over its little mouth and its whole body now responds to even the softest touch. Apparently 40 weeks divided by 3 does NOT equal 13.3 (contrary to math) it equals 12, as all the books say that Trimester Two begins at week 12. Okay by me... 12 times 3 is 36 and that shaves a whole month off this rodeo!

Have the two worst words been mentioned yet? Weight Gain. Fortunately, only a pound and a half have been tacked on to my short frame in the first trimester... however, you'd never know it as all of my weight has shifted to the middle part of my body... both front and back. Nothing pretty and nothing I would recommend to check out in the shower.

Thursday is Thanksgiving and I have much to be thankful for. Husband tops the list and Poppy is right up there with him. Definitely my family, the rain we have had, cold weather, basil and sage, Cheerios, the roof over our head & our tangerine bedroom are all in my top 20.

Being a tangerine room sleeper makes me so happy, I love waking up every morning and seeing one of our Hair paintings of a city skyline. I picture Brooklyn every time I look at it. Brooklyn at sunrise. In the fall. It has all these awesome warm tones... deep crimson, dark gold, tangerine, and to contrast blues and greens with all these antennas in black sticking off the roof. At the bottom, all the colors blend in to a sickly gray; whether it's a street or the sea is up to the eyeball. Very cool.

[If you have read, "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" that is specifically what I picture. That story. If you have not, take the time- it's a good read.]

Tangerine Room Sleeper. Complete with 2 pieces of folk art, a print of the school where I graduated, a blue platter, 2 historical plates, a print of Old Medical College, and three records (Steely Dan, James Brown, and the White Album) are what surround us as tangerine room sleepers on our white bed. With two mismatched and beaten up antique tables. MIS-matched. One's round, one's square. One's on a pedestal and one's on 4 legs...

And Jeckel. My very amazing grandmother saved an old sign my dad made when I was 7 after our car broke down and Woody, Brad, and I were en route to Jekyll Island to see my grandparents. A $.35 piece of cardboard made a timeless memory and is now framed & matted on our tangerine room wall. Cracked. The glass cracked right after I got it & it added so much character, I left it like that.

Another thing I am thankful for... Husband bought me a new car yesterday from Herlong. Her long legs. That's what they say so you know how to spell it and pronounce it. My short legs don't qualify, so I have to scoot the seat all the way up under the steering wheel of my new 2005 Z71 Tahoe. My truck is more manly than Husband's! If there is a bell or a whistle to be had on a Tahoe, this one has it. It has so many bells and whistles, it even has a organ. Okay, that might be an exaggeration.

Bells, whistles, frills, lace, whatever... it's cool & I am stoked.

Husbands on call again tonight & I am hanging out in my tangerine room about to call it an evening. After learning how to make dressing from Mom, who learned from Millie... I have a lot to absorb, much like the dressing has a lot of liquid to take in tonight!

From this tangerine room, to you at your computer... safe travels this holiday.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Since when did 40 divided by 3 equal 11 weeks??

Is it terrible that I am already saying, "Yeah... first trimester...DOWN!" and I still have another two weeks?

I talked to Helen today; sweet and perfect Helen. I wish she lived below the Mason-Dixon line. People like Helen, though, cool and awesome people like Helen-- they are not afraid to stretch their sea legs and be a fish out of water.


I am terrified of leaving The South in less than two years; let alone leaving my safe haven of Augusta.

Eleven weeks. Poppy is able to do somersaults (I can tell...), and is growing hair follicles. It's head is as big as the rest of its body & it (hopefully) no longer has webbed hands or toes. Eleven weeks. Pretty cool that at eleven weeks Poppy is just a little over 2 inches long & is already developing into a little person.

Will is on call again tonight, which is good because I desperately need to go to the grocery store... supper tonight was a very healthy can of Campbell's Double Noodle soup with a bunch of Ritz Crackers & powerade. Talk about making my doctor proud...

Tomorrow is Husband's birthday-- he will be the big 2-8. Birthdays are now shedding a new light on me. 28 years ago today, tiny Debbie Cagle was waddling around the house, much like Martha is now, with three kids hanging on her legs. And I bet, just BET, that all she could think about... other than dinner, her husband, work, and, again, the three small kids at her ankles, was the *ready-to-get-out-her-belly* baby that would be here, on this earth, in less than 24 hours.

And did she have any idea that 2 years later, on THIS day, she would be giving birth again?? This time to a bouncing baby girl with curly blonde hair?

And Grace made five.

And Shaw, Catherine, Darryl, David, and I make ten.

And grandchildren equal sixteen, with two waiting to hit the ground.

We always wish the "birthday-er" Happy Birthday; but we do not ever think to congratulate the mother on a job well done. Or to thank her for driving a watermelon out of places watermelons do not belong. Or just a high-five for going into labor so that we could have one more person on this great place called Earth. Especially one as great as Will. (Or Grace. Or Anna. Or Charner. Or Bev.)

And to think she did it more than once, and each time without any pain medicine. I guess kids like those make a little pain worth it.

Debbie, a virtual high five to you. Thanks for giving birth to Husband and for all my in-laws.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Space Mountain

Of my many confessions, this one is probably the oddest...

Space Mountain was always the coolest ride at Disney World. You wait in line, heading down a deceptively long slope through outer space, waiting with people, one step down at a time until you get to the glorious turnstiles telling your party to go to either the Alpha Train (on the left) or the Omega Train (on the right)-- as a kid, you know... you just know (because Billy told you between Math & Science the week before you left) that the Omega Train (on the right) is better.

It's faster, cooler, and the train leaves the tracks longer. Your big brother confirmed it. So, waiting an extra 10 minutes because everyone has heard the same story either at the basketball court, recess, on the way to chapel, or any number of other places rumors third graders spread is a small price to pay. After winding through the myriad of turns, twists, and long expanses of this line,

Strap in, buckle up and raise your hands (because you are going to lower them as soon as it gets dark. Billy's brother knew a kid who lost his hand when he hit it on the train tracks above. Billy was dangerous with the amount of knowledge he had.) and with a big jolt, vroom.

The train is off.

Sitting in the red (or blue) tube waiting to launch is where my confession begins.

We heard the heartbeat again today. vroosh, vroosh, vroosh, vroosh, vroosh, vroosh... and in the background, there was my heartbeat. Swoosh...swoosh...swoosh. After waiting a whole month and throwing up like it's my JOB, there it was. vroosh, vroosh, vroosh of the littlest little Cagle around. Cold jelly, a full bladder, and Husband grinning from ear to ear... The first thing I wanted to do was call Tommy.

Mothers have been in this room before, hearing the Doppler track down the little sucker. Husbands have been here. Friends, sisters, even strangers (too much tequila?), but I cannot think of one time I heard about a "father-in-law" going behind those sacred doors of the ob-gyns office to -literally- no man's land. With about a 30 second window before Poppy swam off to another nook of my uterus- Will hands me the phone to call his dad.

What a special, very non-Space Mountain, moment. There we were... me with my belly in the air and my modesty on a temporary sabbatical, Husband in his scrubs with a little hospital scum on his left shoe, the greatest doctor with her brand new Doppler chasing Poppy all around my stomach (and just a little close to nether regions), and Tommy- 275 miles away in Doerun, running his store & so proud of his son that he could barely talk. What a blended bunch we were, we Merry band of Cagles.

Back to Space Mountain. In the train, waiting for launch & systems are counting down... vroosh, vroosh, vroosh, vroosh, vroosh is all that can be heard in the tube before launching into the unknown. That is where the Cagles are-- vrooshing. Every time I hear that little noise or we talk about hearing that little noise all I can picture is Brad & me, two young kids at Disney World in the train at Space Mountain, waiting to launch.


Sunday, November 9, 2008

Maternity sections...

I can't figure out how to save the picture and post it on the blog... another technology lesson, I guess. BUT, the bottom line is this: this link is an image of a 10 week old Poppy. Not our Poppy, but a Poppy, just the same.

I would love to be the guinea pig for these websites so they can take pictures of OUR bambino and we get to see the weekly progress in these high-def images.

10 whole weeks, that means he/she has tiny little arm buds and the teeth are starting to form under the gums. If he's a HE- he is already producing testosterone. As for me being the incubator, my pants are getting a little too tight and I have been too sick to exercise. This head cold has been a sonofabitch and have been sick since Halloween. When I had the FLU, I was not as sick as I have been this past week. This morning was the first one that I woke up without a raw throat- so maybe I can start walking again tomorrow.

Will's on call today, so Lauren and I went maternity clothes shopping with Deedle. Just so we're clear: 2 racks next to the clearance section of summer bathing suits and picked over tacky tube tops does not constitute a maternity "SECTION." Even though your store has the really big sign that says 'Maternity' like all the other sections in your department store... 'Lingerie,' 'Children's,' 'Seasonal,' or 'Shoes' those sections have more than 2 racks of items and deserve their big-ass sign. Maternity deserved a little Smurf sign with an arrow pointing you around the corner to the 2 racks by the bathroom in the back of the store.

It looks like I am off to eBay. Sweet! Another excuse to play on eBay on a regular basis...

Speaking of Will being on call today-- we just got his December schedule. Are you curious if he works enough? He works 25 out of the 30 days in November. He does get Thanksgiving and Friday after off- but it's a give and take. He's on call the Tuesday/Wednesday before and he's on call the Saturday/Sunday afterwards. And yes, Dr. Cagle is taking care of the tiniest of tiny babies on Christmas Day-- the NICU. Of all the places I would not want to be Christmas Day, Number 1 is the NICU with my child. Of all the places I know Husband will be Number 1 on Christmas Day is the NICU with many families & their children.

It's tough being on this side of what Will does. This month he is working in the NICU and every morning when he leaves at 6am, or he spends the night at the hospital (like he will be doing tonight and several nights again between now and Christmas-- and Christmas, too), I think about how lucky we are. Blessed. Overwhelmingly taken care of. Our nephew, the cutest, bounciest, greatest little guy that runs around Thomasville & that house on Cindy is here because of doctors like Will and places like the MCG NICU. See, our nephew is just one great miracle that came out of the NICU, but everyday there are more and more miracles that come out of those tiny little incubators.

Did you know that the NICU babies have to have special diapers? Normal diapers cause hip dysplasia & those little newborn diapers cost over $3 each. If you have not ever- call, schedule & take the time to tour a high level NICU. It will make you want to give your heart and soul to a hospital- with either time or money.

I am really proud of Husband and what he does with his days and nights when he is not with me.

Friday, November 7, 2008

Meet the Newest Cagle!

I never thought I would be one to "blog"... of course, I never thought I would be one to be pregnant, either... but all these things change, I guess!

Will & I thought that this would be a great way to update our outlying family all over the southeast (and in the Bahamas) about our growing family.

So... if you've been living under a rock, we're pregnant! OH MY GOOD GRIEF, we're pregnant! Sometimes, when I can't sleep at night, I look down at my expanding waistline and think that there is a little person in there, just waiting to come out into this world. The picture above was taken at "6 weeks, 3 days" (their words, not mine)-- can you believe how accurate they can get that from the tiny, little Poppy seed??
Poppy (which is what we're calling IT, until we get some sort of confirmation on the sex) will be 10 weeks on Monday. The lil' guy will grasp anything that touches its hand, which is where we get our hand-creases from. Also, it is the size of an avocado seed and all of its teeny, tiny, little organs have been created and are developing. As Nancy says, it has all its parts- they just need to grow now!
We go back to wonderful Dr. Holsten next Thursday for our next visit. I have no idea what we are in for!

Well, we will just have to wait until June 8th (or sooner... or later...) to meet Lil'Cagle.