From One Thing to Another

First off... I shared this story with Chris today. Heard it on Catholic Radio, got warm fuzzies. I think it's a good lesson to learn.

A momentous occasion occurred today when Chris brought Momma Val's quilt to the post office. I was so glad to pull it out of the dryer this morning and see that all the stitches held, the colors didn't bleed, and it looked cozy. Mission accomplished. Whenever I look at it, I see all the little mistakes I made. I hope they are not as noticeable to Valerie and her sweet little boy.

Here's a picture of the quilt during one of the last stages of completion:

I had started this quilt early last summer at the end of a quilting binge. I started working, my health was "iffy" and life was chaos. I just didn't have the heart for quilting anymore, so I stopped. Unfortunately, that meant that Valerie didn't get her requested quilt in a timely fashion. Oh the guilt that festered. She never bothered me about it, but I didn't forget entirely.

Fast forward to the beginning of this month. We moved our bedroom upstairs, and I decided that I should bring up our six-foot table to put in the extra wide hallway at the top of the stairs. On there, I could put my sewing machine, and I'd even have room for my cutting board. Bingo. I set it up, and the quilting bug happened again.

It didn't take me long to finish her quilt once I started. I had most of the blocks completed or nearly completed. I just had to cut out the white blocks and put it all together. Happiness, thy name is "matching seams."

And now it's done. After the quilt for Alisha, I have four more quilts planned. A nap blanket for me, a quilt each for Anna and Ben, and a quilt for my nephew Gage. Happy times ahead.

On the kid front... Ben's vocabulary is burgeoning still. He's hard to understand at times, but he's trying. He's "using his words" a lot, even if it doesn't do any good because it sounds like gibberish. He can count to ten and can recognize all of the numbers. And he has most of the alphabet down pat, but he won't say it, just points them out and names them when he sees them. Colors are memorized.

His personality is adhesive. He loves stickers. If I give him a sheet of stickers, he will either put them all over his face (including eyelids), decorate a table top (or my laptop) or add them to random pages in his book collection. A couple days ago I went into the living room to turn off the TV quickly before we left to run errands, and I was greeted with the sight of a TV screen covered in stickers. Ah, Ben.

He's acting more interested in what I'm doing, and most of the time, he wants to join in. Kneading bread dough, washing dishes, picking up laundry, washing the table, etc. "Ben try?" I hear that a lot, except when he doesn't want to do something. Then it's "Mama try?"

Anna's infected boil is slowly healing. The infection is gone, but the spot remains. I'm glad the doctor ran labs on the specific bacteria (ostensibly to rule out MRSA) so that we could get a targeted antibiotic. Unfortunately, with antibiotics comes a terrible diaper rash. She's kind of annoyed by that and the two molars that are still halfway out or just under the surface. Intermittently, she's either jolly and rambunctious or she's whiny and clingy.

I wish you all could see her adorable facial expressions. The "stinkface" with a crinkled nose and pursed lips. The "oh-hi!" where she squats slightly and grins like she's ready to jump for joy at seeing you. The "oh-really" where she raises her barely-there-blond eyebrows and smirks, letting loose a deep-throated chuckle.

That's all I can do for tonight. Hope you all are happy and well.

Anna and the Horrifying Tonsils

Anna had her 1-year well child visit this morning. She's back on track as far as weight goes, and her exam was perfect ... except for one part. Her tonsils.

"For her size, they are enormous. I was horrified when I saw them," Dr. Sarah explained.

Outwardly, she is showing almost no signs of infection. She's drooling a lot, but she is also cutting a tooth. Her ears aren't infected, and her nose isn't running. Our only concern today was a hacking cough she gets when she lays down in her crib.

The tonsils are causing sleep apnea and obstructing her airway when she sleeps, which is why she snores and wakes up frequently. It's also why she coughs only when she's lying down and why she drools like a Saint Bernard puppy.

The first course of action is two weeks of antibiotics on the slim chance that there's a deep infection in her tonsils that didn't clear on its own. We go back to Dr. Sarah for a re-check in 4 weeks. If her tonsils are a normal size, we're fine. If they aren't, we'll be referred to an ENT. The doctor said that surgeons are VERY hesitant to remove tonsils on a child her age. They prefer to wait until 2 or 3 years old.

Honestly? I'm very worried about her. Chris has sleep apnea and has to wear a CPAP at night, so I know a little about the condition. It's risky territory. But I'm also relieved that I'm not going insane. Whenever I tell someone that Anna is still waking up every 2 hours or so at night even now that she's 12 months old, I feel a bit like a failure, like maybe we didn't stick with sleep training long enough or maybe I'm drinking too much caffeine and it's affecting the breastmilk. Knowing that there's a reason why she's waking up all the time ... well ... it offers some comfort for me.

Molly Dog

So we got a dog Tuesday night. I've already been experiencing buyer's remorse, but I hear that's normal, especially if you are not normally a dog person. Dang, dogs are a lot of work! We're house training her, so I have to remain hyper-vigilant about her "needs." I suppose this is practice for pottytraining Ben, whenever he decides he's ready.

She's actually a very nice dog. She doesn't bark or whine. She loves the kids. She likes her kennel. She loves me. She can already play fetch, and she's catching on very quickly to Sit. We went for a long walk to the park yesterday, and she got very worn out. I'd pause to let her go potty in a shady spot, and she'd lay down instead, panting.

I named her Molly. It seems to suit her. Unfortunately, Ben can't pronounce it. He calls her "Wah-ee." Ben loves her desperately, and he can even open her kennel to let her out to play (grrr).

I was very burnt out last night from the kids and the dog, and I was ready to give her back, but I've promised myself that I will wait two weeks before making a decision like that.

In other news, Anna is now 11 months old. Isn't that amazing? It seems like just a month ago, I was hugely pregnant with her. And now, she's cruising along furniture, pushing laundry baskets and trucks across the floor while walking behind, and climbing to the top of our Little Tykes slide and scaring the crap out of me. She's sleeping very well at night, though she still wakes up once for a snack and once for a hug and to be tucked back in. I'm sleeping much better.

It's a combination of the better sleep, physical therapy and more frequent T-Tapp exercises, but I graduated from physical therapy yesterday. I don't have to go back! It's been almost two weeks since I had a headache, and my neck feels fine. It's nothing like it was. It feels wonderful to be pain-free again. That was a rough time.

I'm going to try to get back into blogging again. I turned inward for a while, and I didn't want to push anything out onto the page. I didn't want to share; I just wanted to live in the moment. I'm hoping that I'm phasing out of that. We'll see. I'm not going to force it.

Waiting for the next one

I don't know how mothers with chronic illnesses get through life. This sucks. When I'm not feeling ill, I'm waiting for the first twinge of an oncoming migraine in hopes that I'll have time to take my new medicine and head off the evil brain cramp at the pass. My "cue" that one is soon arriving is numbness, and last night I laid awake in bed for fifteen minutes waiting for the brief numbness in my jaw to start traveling to other areas of the body.

My doctor prescribed me Midrin yesterday, for which I am grateful. Luckily, she's the kind of doctor who feels that migraine sufferers have decreased quality of life if they have frequent migraines, and she's very anxious to find the right combination to keep me pain free. Love her for that.

In the meantime, until I start forgetting the hellish pain, I'm still more likely wake up an hour early so I can start drinking coffee and taking tylenol to avoid a migraine. In time, I should relax and stop sitting on the edge of my seat waiting.

I had a headache last night when Ben made another run for the highway (not really, we're not near a highway). I thought he was just standing at the side door looking outside until I heard Anna screaming. She was outside on the porch, stuck between the door and the jamb. When Ben opened the door and ran, she tried following him. He ran down the graveled alley (how did that not hurt his delicate feet?) and I followed in my slow, tenuous way.

I'm not usually a spanker, but last night he needed an extra reminder.

In happy news, ecstatic news, thrilling news, my sister is giving birth to her daughter Mya tomorrow morning in a planned c-section. Such a happy occasion. Good luck, Jolene! The first six weeks are the hardest.

What It Was

Well, that was a roller coaster ride of hell.

First, the result: Tension.

Before that, it was maybe my thyroid, migraines, lyme disease, anemia, stroke... etc.

I'm not going to give you a play-by-play of this week, just the highlights. A CT scan on Wednesday because during the night I lost all sensation on my left side periodically. A wonderful physical therapy visit yesterday (I'll be going for months). Wednesday also included frequent vomiting and cold sweats.

So it's tension caused by anxiety and stress. Almost a let down, because it could be easily interpreted to be "all in my head." Sure it is, but it's real. All that seratonin, not doing anything worthwhile up there.

All the neck pain and headaches are caused by the shoulder tension.

Physical therapy will be fun and interesting. The manual therapy worked immediately, and she'll be alternating between that and strengthening exercises, even basic pilates. I'm also on nausea medication and lots and lots of tylenol and motrin.

But knowing what is going on takes a lot of the anxiety away, ironically. I don't think I'm dying. I'm not second guessing everything my body is feeling. I'm just taking it easy on myself until I have at least one pain-free day.

Brief History of Why I'm Not Blogging

I can hardly believe that it's been so long since blogging. Kind of crazy. But it is what it is.

Truth be told, I haven't been feeling well. It started around Aug. 2 or so. Nausea in the evenings, neck pain when I bend over, pick things up or look far left or right. Over the next few days, the bouts of nausea and pain became for frequent, lasting for longer than before, until it finally lasted all day long.

Then the anxiety attacks, vertigo and dizziness started. I'd be sitting down, thinking about stupid trivial stuff, and all of a sudden, I'd get hot flashes and end up in a dither about silly things. Left in a puddle of tears and sweat, I knew something was wrong. I figured maybe my Zoloft was no longer effective, so I made an appointment with my primary physician for a med check.

The vertigo and dizziness would happen when I stood up or sat down or walked for too long. It starts with the neck pain, and then everything would start throbbing, my hearing, my vision, my aching head. Got to the point where I couldn't push a cart around Walmart anymore.

My whole spine aches, from my neck to my tailbone, when touched.

It's very disturbing. Last week, I spent several nights at my mom's house with the kids. I'm not a very good caregiver feeling like this. I can't carry Anna for more than a couple minutes without needing to sit down. I received a couple chiropractic adjustments, and more importantly, I was able to take two uninterrupted naps a day.

This is all rather depressing. I feel very isolated and lonely. My house is a stinky disaster area because of my limitations. Poor Chris is saddled with so much.

Anyway. My appointment is tomorrow. I hope that it's just a medicine issue. I can get a new prescription for another anti-anxiety medication, and I'll be fine. I'm hoping that all of these symptoms can be explained away by the physical manifestation of anxiety. I'm also hoping that my doctor takes me seriously, because I can't live like this for much more. I miss "life." I miss moving and bike riding. Chris isn't letting me drive anymore because of the random dizziness and vision clouding.

So I'm not blogging. I missed the 10-month Anna post (she's awesome and beautiful, in between a baby and a toddler), but I plurk a few times a day. (You can see my plurk updates in the right hand column of this blog). You can email me to leave a comment about a plurk (cheryl at ccmathis DOT com). Or you can get a plurk account (like twitter, but more personal) and join my group. I miss you all.

Scribbling: Happy Ending

I love happy endings. Who doesn't? When the happy ending arrives, you feel as if the circle is complete, the story was fulfilling. You aren't left with disappointments and regrets.

A little over a month after I married Chris, we got "the phone call" on the morning I turned 25. It was my mother calling as she explained that my father was being transferred from the walk-in clinic to the ICU. The next couple weeks were a roller coaster of emotions ranging from anger and frustration at my father's stubborn bullheaded-ness to grief and loss at his pending death.

I remember sitting in a little consultation room with my mother and Chris as we heard from a doctor that they found a large tumor in his colon. We saw the pictures, heard the diagnosis. We knew the next steps, and we suspended our hope in the air above our heads, that once we knew the problem, they could fix it, and my father could live.

We had a happy ending. After surgery and months of chemo, my father went into remission, where he's stayed since. He exercises every day, and I think he enjoys his grandbabies more. I am more easy to forgive him his cantankerous personality, because I know how much I'll miss him when he's gone – I had to face that possibility in a real way before, and I know how deep my grief will be, how strong my attachment is.

Some people don't get happy endings. Before I met Chris, before I became a proofreader, I was a nanny to a lovely little girl and her family. I had the privilege to get to know the whole family, and I regularly babysat Claire's cousins, Isabel and Felix, two very delightful children who amazed me every time and drew me to them with their sweet, funny personalities.

I especially remember Felix, who, before his fourth birthday, told me that he'd love some throw pillows for his bedroom as a present... and maybe an accent lamp. He was a charming little boy who loved dress-up and Batman, Barbie and Spider-man. He was free with his affections, and everyone in his life loved him desperately, including me.

Last summer, I received a mass email from Claire's father, letting people know that Felix was diagnosed with brain cancer. I hadn't seen him in three years, but his precocious smile and sparkling purity were immediately forefront in my mind. It wasn't fair. Not Felix. Please, not Felix. He's one of the special ones.

His mother has blogged their journey over the last year, and I've faithfully read along, my heart caught in my throat each time, loving to read of his bravery and strength, his courage and peace through everything. Like many pediatric cancer patients, he delights and cajoles the nurses and doctors, showing far more maturity than most adults would show in his situation. I've grieved silently with his family as the diagnoses became more dire, as the tumors that seemed to have been controlled in his brain spread to his abdomen, as he weakened.

Hopefully, he has one last summer. Last weekend, he and his mother were driven in a limo to the Milwaukee Brewers game, where he threw the first pitch and basked in the applause and joyous shouts of thousands of people. He continues to make beautiful paintings and other art projects, he loves his friends and his family, and he's doing what he's done since the day he was born – loving life with no apologies and no expectations.

Maybe we all have happy endings. Felix's happy ending is a legacy of peace and joy to everyone who knows him. My father's happy ending is a new understanding of how much we love him, how much he loves us. Happy endings may not always be full of life and sunshine, hugs and kisses; maybe all we can ask for from a happy ending is closure and peace.

A Little Like Magic

It could just be a fluke. It could just be the time of day. But Anna is feeling better. She's babbling and playing with Chris, and her nose isn't even running anymore.

I called her pediatrician again this morning to let them know that it was the seventh day of Anna running a fever between 101 and 103. She was diagnosed with her third ear infection last Monday and given her third prescription for an antibiotic, but this past week, she hasn't gotten better.

I felt like an idiot for calling. I know, just like I'm supposed to know, that fevers aren't necessarily bad. They mean the body is fighting an infection, and they can actually be beneficial. And in a baby her age, fevers aren't horribly dangerous. They can be caused by teething. Her nose was running which means a cold, and she could run a fever while fighting that off.

But I called anyway. I was tired. Anna was tired. She hasn't had a decent sleep for weeks now. She's been on Motrin or Tylenol around the clock for a few weeks. That's a long time. So I called, and luckily, they said she needed to be seen again. Less idiotic feeling.

Wouldn't you know it? She had another ear infection in the other ear. She managed to get an ear infection while she was on Omnicef, a powerful antibiotic. Since the middle of April, we've run through Amoxicillin, Augmentin and Omnicef. Running out of options. Today, she received Rocephin, which comes in the form of a shot in each thigh.

Within two hours, she was smiling again. It's like my little girl is back. She's grinning and laughing, jumping and bouncing. I'm relishing her gurgles and coos and enthusiasm.

I hope this does the trick. We'll probably have a referral to an ENT after a re-check on Wednesday. I want to avoid tubes as much as possible because of the hassle, but I also would like Anna to not have ear infections every other week.

On the Ben side of the sick kids coin that I've been flipping lately, he's still hacking, but not as often. He ran laps around the house today without panting and wheezing, so he must be getting better. We've cut back his breathing treatments to every morning and evening, and we're slowly reintroducing dairy. He's still the loving, playful boy he's always been, though he has a new trick. When he doesn't want to do something, he sits.

"Ben, would you go get your shoes?"

Sit. Scowl.

It's the typical toddler response. His other trick is tackling me with hugs and kisses and giggles while I'm trying to type on the laptop. Ah, joys.

He can also finally say "Arthur" instead of "Ow-bee" and "Chaw-whee" for "Trolley."

Middle of the Night

Ben woke up at 1 am this morning, yelling and sobbing for us. I went up there to hug him, thinking it was just a nightmare, but as I held him close to me, I heard it... The bark. Between wails, every breath was louder than his actual voice. I know what croup sounds like, and this was it... but what does croup mean for an asthmatic toddler?

Even the common cold makes us shudder. If he has a runny nose? We get out the nebulizer. It's part of our asthma action plan. Hearing that horrible bark and wheeze? Holy crap, we tried not to panic.

After we got an albuterol treatment over with and spent five minutes on the porch in the cold damp air, we waited another 10. Then Chris got dressed, and I bundled my boys off to the ER.

"It's just croup." Well, duh, doctor. I know it's croup... but my baby, he can't breathe very deeply, and he sounds awful, and he's crying and scared, and I can't do anything more for him, and I'm scared. *deep breath (lucky I can take one)*

When Ben woke up again this morning at the crack of 5:30, he was upset and scared again. I tried to calm him down as I spoke enthusiastically about how much fun it would be to go for a walk before anybody wakes up.

I'll cover you in blankets, and we'll walk all over the neighborhood, looking at everything to see if it looks different in the rain and before breakfast.

And so we did. Around and around the block, then around the next block over, then around our block again. I walked through the misty light rain, grateful that it wasn't pouring, contemplating the fact that I hadn't brushed my teeth yet and maybe I should have put on socks before I slipped into my shoes. I meditated on my little boy's lungs and throat, praying for them to loosen and open up, praying for him to start coughing up some phlegm, to feel some relief.

He's quietly watching Curious George right now, fidgeting and kicking off his blankets. Rest, fluids and albuterol were prescribed. I'm going to add to that a healthy dose of love, attention, tenderness and perhaps some painting and coloring.

Boo-Boo All Gone

I had my two-week surgical follow-up appointment today. Super report from Dr. Bell. I'm all healed up in there, though I'll still be on restrictions until the six weeks is up. I have another follow-up in two weeks because of some awful aching I'm having in my "area" that I personally think is varicose veins but weren't readily apparent to mister doctor man. He thinks the pain will get progressively better over the next couple of weeks.

Anyway. I celebrated the good report by coming home and inviting my family to go for a walk with me to the park. The one that's a mile away. We piled the bugs into the stroller and briskly walked, greeting the neighbors we passed. So much fun, though Chris thought it would be funnier to try and run to get ahead of me at one point. I caught up to him right away.

"Ha. It's going to be a fun summer, isn't it?"

It sure is. The weather was brisk and windy at 56, and it started to rain on our way back. My back aches, but that's just because I hadn't been upright for so long in so long. It felt SO FREAKING GOOD to move my body again.

So the changes in my family since we've lost 80 pounds? When I wasn't looking, Chris went down the whirly slide. He felt exhilarated. He hadn't been the proper size to go down a slide since he was a little guy. He went down five times, and he giggled. I declined to follow suit, though I did dangle a little from the monkey bars.

Anna had fun going on the swing for the First Time Ever. Ben was a little freaked out by the swing, so he got down and then pushed Anna a few times before he ran back to the slides. Since we are a fit family full of vigor and action, Chris took Anna down the slide so she could experience the thrill. Then it was Ben's turn on Daddy's lap. He got way more of a kick out of it.

And now, I give you a short photo essay of the first of many, many walks to the park this year:

My Comfort

I think the worst part was the nausea from taking vicodin on an empty stomach. I sipped some ice water, the first water since the night before, and my stomach took a tailspin. Have I ever mentioned I don't deal well with nausea?

Even after the nausea medication kicked in, I pressed my head against the pillows and cried, feeling very sorry for myself. I missed my children, I whimpered for my mama. I kept thinking that this whole surgery wasn't worth it. So what if I had issues down there. Just leave them be and get on with my life. A life without restrictions and pain.

When I arrived home yesterday, Anna took a little time to look at me and love me again. Ben, on the other hand, was quite pleased to see me. He ran right up to me and climbed in my lap.

I'm swollen and tender, and I feel some tugging every once in a while, but I'm okay. I'm still not glad I went through with it, but I hope that once things are back to normal down there, I'll feel better about having it done.

My doctor reported that he had never seen a woman my age with such poor tissue integrity down there. Such superlatives don't help, but they do explain why I'm a bit of a freak.

My comforts:

My precious children.

The gorgeous flowers from my mom and my darling sisters. Thanks girls!

Niceness and Pre-Op

The “Nice Matters Award” is for those bloggers who are nice people; good blog friends and those who inspire good feelings and inspiration. Also for those who are a positive influence on our blogging world.”

RC of Hill Smith Family Update honored me yesterday with the "Nice Matters Award." I'm so friggin' tickled by this.

This is what she said about me on her blog:

MamaCheryl likes to say nice things about me on her blog, and she is so inspiring. She has lost 40 pounds since January! How awesome is that?!?!?!? On top of it, she shares her life very openly and honestly. Did I mention she is making some beautiful quilts, now, too?

I'm a huge fan of RC. As a matter of fact, this last weekend was kind of tortuous for me because she was in my neighborhood for some classes. I was busy, and she was booked, but I was so tempted to run down there and stalk her. I've never actually met a bloggy friend in person yet. I feel a little insecure about it, just like Liz.

Anyway. I love getting this award. I've seen others receive it in the past, and I always kind of chuckled to myself that there's no way I'll ever get it. I'm too sarcastic, too bitter, too weird. Nice? Is that really a word to describe me? Sure, I aspire to kindness, but sometimes I feel like I get tripped up on my odd sensibilities.

When I tell my husband that I was twittering with RC or commenting on her blog, he always asks me, "Now which one is she?" I respond with, "She's the one who has a similar work background as me, a similar personality, and a son named Little Dude and a cat named Supercat." He responds, "Oh. The one you want to live next door." "Yep. That's her."

I'll have to think for a while on who I will present a Nice Matters Award to.

*******
So to give you all a heads up on what will be going down for the next couple of days. I have my icky surgery tomorrow, and I'll be in the hospital overnight. I might twitter from the hospital, but I might not have a chance to blog. We'll have to see. I could have my laptop in the birth center, but I'll be in a different area of the hospital now, and they might have different rules.

Tonight, I will have the oh-so-pleasant task of the bowel prep, which is basically a really intense colon cleanse. Yes. It should be amazing. I won't be twittering about it. I may "share my life openly and honestly" but there has to be a line in the sand, some mystery, some sense of *ahem* dignity. I will probably lose another couple of pounds in just a couple of hours. Miracle.

My mom arrived early afternoon, and she'll be staying until Friday. It'll be kind of insane for the next couple weeks since I'll have to have a babysitter here.

I'm going to miss my children a lot while I'm in the hospital. I'm so worried about Anna and how she'll cope without me. With how traumatic it was for her when Chris and I went on a date Sunday afternoon, I shudder at the thought of leaving her for a whole overnight. I'm hoping I'll be in an area where she can come visit me in my room. Any pumping sessions I can skip would be nice. And Ben? I'm not so worried about him. He'll have a great time without me (otherwise known as the Big Wet Blanket) to keep him out of mischief.

I look forward to catching up with everybody after my surgery. I wonder how much fun it'll be to blog while I'm on major painkillers. Hmmmm.

Things I'm trying not to think about: The indignity of what my body will be going through during the surgery. The Pain. The butt-pleasing diet I'll have to be on after surgery. Anna crying because she wants her mama. Oh. And the small matter of the miniscule chance I won't make it through surgery. I've never been under general anesthesia before, and I'm terrified. But those are all things I'm. Not. Thinking. About.

Recto-celia - You're Breaking My Heart

Alternative Post Titles:
When I Found Out Kegels Didn't Work
Last Time I Checked I'm Only 26, Not 66
And The Bottom Drops Out
Rebuilding The Lady Parts
Just Sew Up The Joint And Call It A Day

Call it a rectocele. Call it pelvic organ prolapse. Whatever. I got it. If you want a clinical description, go to this link. For those who don't want to read about a freaky medical TMI thing, stop reading now.

A big part of me didn't want to ever talk about this issue. Face it. The topic is embarrassing and rather gross. But when I was first diagnosed, I went online to look up other people's personal stories about, and I found almost none. Lots of clinical sites, but no personal "This is how I dealt with it" stories. For one, the condition is common, but the severity of my prolapse is rare among my age group. For two, the topic is embarrassing and rather gross.

So I'll put my story out there so if someone like me searches for it later, they'll find a sympathetic ear and helpful and hopeful shoulder to lean on.

In January, I was reaching down with a baby wipe to give myself a little freshening up (considering I get to shower maybe every other day or so) while I was sitting down to do my business. I noticed a large bulge coming out of my yodel. It grew bigger when I would bear down.

To be honest, since having kids, I haven't really been all that interested in checking out the topography down there. Something to do with aversion to feeling scars from episiotomies, and frankly, any "relations" down there are rather uncomfortable and painful, and I'm a little bitter about that. So I've been giving my lady parts the silent treatment.

The "bulge" was freaky and weird. Over the next few weeks, I learned that if I wanted to easily have a bowel movement, I would have to push that bulge back in and hold it there. Gross, I know. This process, I learned, is called "manual evacuation," when you have to use your fingers as an internal splint to hold things in place and keep other things pointing in the right direction.

I kept it to myself. I think I mentioned something to Chris, but I didn't talk about it much. Most of the time, I forgot about it between "movements." In February, I mentioned my freak-accident-like oddity to my mother, and she made me call my doctor and make an appointment. "Might as well get it taken care of before it gets worse." Yeah, I guess.

So I saw my primary doctor the next day, she did a quick peek with a speculum, and then she promptly gave me a referral to see an OB for a rectocele consult. My appointment was a month away. From then on, I noticed my deformed lady bits more and more during regular activities, like walking, sitting, lifting things, etc. Nothing I could do about it. Didn't really hurt... it just felt like a tampon was falling out.

Oh joy.

My appointment with Dr. Bell was this morning. Nice man. He says that my muscle tone down there is very good, so that's not an issue. Weak muscle tone (Kegel exercises can help) is often at fault for pelvic organ prolapse. In my case, the fascia that holds everything where it's supposed to be has ripped apart and detached from its anchor points.

On April 2nd, he's going to slice me open, stitch everything back together, and then sew me back up. I'll be in the hospital overnight, and I'll have lifting restrictions for the post-op period. And my weight loss/fitness goals will be on hold, since I won't be able to exercise for eight weeks.

I'm less than pleased. I wish this whole thing wasn't happening at all. I'm glad that there's a solution, even if it's not guaranteed to last forever, but I just wish my body wouldn't have failed me in this way.

There are so many worse things that I could be going through. I don't have cancer. I'm obese, but pretty healthy. I'm not in any pain, and my body grows stronger each day. My children are precious and well, and my husband is loving and supportive. We own our own house, and we aren't missing mortgage payments. The car is paid for, and I have hobbies and interests that keep my brain active. I also have a wonderful community of friends who support me emotionally.

For that, I thank you. Now how about sitting down with me, munching on some spicy oatmeal cookies and sipping a big mug of coffee. Let's put our feet up and continue to count our blessings.

Blue Baby Blues

Yesterday morning, I thought Anna had bruised my right nipple badly. It ached and throbbed and hurt like hell when she nursed and even when she wasn't. It got worse during the day, and by evening, it felt like someone was dragging barbed wire through my nipple while she sucked.

This morning, I tried, but I just couldn't keep her on. The pain was so intense, the only way I can describe it is just like the "transition" period in natural childbirth, but the pain was focused on my nipple, not my low back. I was crying and gritting back screams.

So I went online and figured out pretty quickly that I had a yeast infection.

Did you know that pharmacies around here don't open until nine? Crazy. We walked through a few pharmacy aisles while the window was closed, but couldn't find the "gentian violet," the gold standard for treating nipple yeast infections. We finally were at a pharmacy when they opened the window, and the pharm tech quickly brought me a tiny bottle and said, "$1.62 please." Dang. I would have paid nearly a hundred for a remedy.

When we got home, I went into the bathroom with Chris and Anna, and I stripped down to the waist and made a few piles of burp rags. I rubbed vaseline on her lips, and sighed when I read that the gentian violet was ten percent alcohol. Oh well.

I swabbed her mouth with the dark purple liquid and watched the staining spread. Then I painted my milk spouts with the stuff and giggled at my reflection.

I probably used too much in her mouth because she was drooling purple. When I put her to breast, the purple spread all over her face. Oh dear.

The good news is, the relief was immediate. It barely hurt at all when she sucked for the first time. As for Anna? We were able to wipe most of the gentian off, though the inside of her mouth is still stained. I feel bad that I made BJ's granddaughter look all goofy when she finally is able to show her off to her family and friends.

Snippets

I barely celebrate the holidays, but I find myself scrambling all day long now. I only had five people to get presents for, but it took me four days of scouring the internet to pick out gifts. What is up with that?

I'm still not done. I still have to buy two more items. A Veggie Tales video and a toddler toy. My life would be easier if I wasn't so darn set on getting the best deal on shipping and refusing to pay full price.

One thing I love about Christmas, though, is wrapping the presents. Mind you, I really don't like the commercializing of the holiday, and the "need" to buy presents, but I've always loved neatly wrapping gifts and decorating them. As soon as I was capable, my mom let me be the official gift wrapper in the family, and I've loved it ever since.

There's something so satisfying about crisply wrapped boxes. It's even better than folding the perfect tower of towels.

Here are some quick snippets of stuff going on:

When Anna is lying on my chest, she can do push-ups now and launch herself upwards and head-butt my chin. Hard. Her neck is still a little wobbly, but it's thrilling to watch her get better each day.

Ben is being treated for an ear infection and conjunctivitis now, in addition to the asthma flare-up. This cold has really done a number on him. He HATES eye drops. But his eyes got really gross. Totally gummed up with strings of gunk between the eyelashes when he'd finally get his eyes open. At least there's hope now that there will be an end in sight soon. At least my angelic son enjoys the taste of amoxicillin.

Speaking of angels, Ben is being a pretty good boy around the Christmas tree. Of course I'm making it easy for him by not having any ornaments on it.

He also has started wiping his mouth after he takes a drink. No, it's not that great. He wipes his mouth with the front of his shirt. After every sip. I don't remember teaching him that.

We gave away our couch yesterday. My brother sent out an alert that a friend of his just lost everything in a fire. We were going to bring the couch to the charity warehouse place this week, and it was nice to actually know the person who would get it. My mom brought down an extra bed, and I gave him a comforter and a big bag of men's socks that I had for some reason. Our living room feels empty without the couch, but we're getting our new ones in a few days.

Our dining room bed is also going back up to Ben's room so he won't have to sleep on an air mattress anymore. That means that Chris and I are actually sharing a bed again, which is weird. At least he's relented and doesn't mind co-sleeping anymore. She starts out in her bassinet, but comes into bed with me around midnight.

I'm getting a Mirena IUD this Wednesday, and I'm nervous. Chris is getting his V-Snip on Friday, and I bet he's more nervous.

That's all folks.

Song Cue: I Got Fever

"I Got Fever"

It's amazing how much my pediatrician's office freaks out over a newborn with a fever. If Anna were really ill, I'm sure I'd be very grateful with how diligent they are. They went into a big ol' flurry of activity yesterday morning when I called them once they opened to tell them that Anna has been running a temperature since Monday morning.

But after three hours of tests this morning, including a blood culture and urine catheterization, the official diagnosis is she's probably coming down with a cold, the same cold that Ben has.

They stopped short of a spinal tap, but that would have been on the schedule for the day if I hadn't told them about Ben's cold. That, and she smiled at Dr. Sarah during the exam, so she's probably not on her deathbed.

"Fever when you kiss me"

I thought about restricting Ben's proximity to Anna, but I figured I'd probably transfer any germs even if I didn't let him kiss her goodnight every night. Did I mention he can now say "Nigh-nigh"? Besides, his insisting on kissing her at every opportunity is one of the cutest things in my life right now, second only to Anna's unbelievably chubby thighs (did you know she's ten and a half pounds already?)

"Fever when you hold me tight"

Okay, this probably didn't get her sick, but it does make her temperature rise a bit more. It took me a whole six hours yesterday to realize the reason her temperature was higher after she woke up was because she had been sleeping in a blanket bundle next to me. Her lowest temp, 100.4, was still enough to have to go to the doc, though.

PS. Is it weird that the cute-guy medical student wouldn't look me in the eye after he walked in on me nursing Anna? Poor guy. Figured he wouldn't have to deal with boobies if he chose pediatrics as a specialty. Well, ha! Showed him.

PPS. Wednesday morning, and her temp is down to 99.0, but she has a pretty and lacy all-over body rash. We have another appointment this morning.

The Other Side of Bliss

Today I feel like my talents as a SAHM are being taxed for the first time. Having two children. Sure, it's been difficult in the last six weeks, but today is different. Today, my son is sick.

Ben went to daycare Tuesday afternoon so I could clean the basement. He woke up Wednesday morning with a raging cough. By evening, he was wheezing. It was a rough night.

In between his breathing treatments for his asthma, he's being a trooper. I can tell, though, that having Anna around bothers him now that he has to share Mommy when he needs me most.

It's the little things. He came over to cuddle when Anna began to cry, needing her diaper changed. Later, he tried climbing in her bassinet (but asked my permission first. He didn't get it.)

When my back was turned, he sat in her swing and actually got it to swing back and forth. When he saw that I had Anna lying on a blanket on the floor next to me while I was washing dishes, he came over and laid down next to her, staring up at me like she was.

If Anna weren't here, I'd be able to sit with him and cuddle all day. Instead, I only get to give hugs, wipe noses, offer oranges, water and teddy grahams, and say "I love you honey" over and over again. I feel ripped in two, my heart trying to be big enough to cover all the hurts and misery.

My brave little boy, content to be tucked into bed for a nap, knowing that I needed to get back downstairs to tend to crying Anna. I love him so much, and I'm so grateful he is so brave and so generous.

A Lesson Learned About Having A Kid With Asthma

I'm up early this morning because Ben is. And instead of fussing and crying and clinging to me, he's actually wanting to play, so this is good news. You see, yesterday, it wasn't like this at all.

Sunday night, Ben started coughing in his sleep. He seemed okay in the morning, and we sent him off to daycare with a request to Amber to keep track of his cough and his breathing. He had the sniffles, but was still anxious to play with his friends.

I called periodically during the day on Monday, and she let me know his status. He was okay. He had a cold, but he wasn't miserable. When we picked him up after work, he had just started on his downward spiral. His very quick downward spiral.

By the time we got home, his eyes were glassy, he was running a fever of 101, and he was gasping. Not good at all. He refused dinner, and he started crying non-stop, which only made his breathing worse. So we started his breathing treatments.

It was a long Monday night. Ben woke up in many cold sweats because he had stopped breathing. It was scary. Chester stayed home with him yesterday to continue the breathing treatments and to monitor him. Finally, when I came home for lunch, Ben consented to lunch. By dinner time, he still had a strong wheeze, but he was more interested in playing. And he ate some dinner. Yay! Off to bed, and he stayed asleep until four this morning.

We were all set to split the shift today. I'd stay home in the morning, Chester in the afternoon. But now, with Ben so perky, I'm not sure it's necessary to keep him home. As you can imagine, I'll be watching him very closely over the next hour. He still has a small wheeze, but otherwise, he seems normal. Amber's perfectly willing to do the nebulizer thing, too, so he'll keep getting his Albuterol.

Yesterday I felt so intensely guilty about not giving Ben the nebulizer treatment right away on Monday morning when he woke up with the sniffles and a cough. The medical plan that our doctor gave us indicates that, but I wanted to wait and see how he did throughout the day. Dammit. Having such an easy summer with his asthma made me complacent. At least I've learned my lesson. When your kid has asthma, you have to freak out when he gets the sniffles.

In other news, the new girl at work doesn't suck. She seems bright and intelligent and seems to be a quick learner. At least I hope so. My boss is already transferring a lot of duties over to her.

My sister is coming to town this weekend with her family to drop off the latest load of rummage sale finds. These include a mini basketball hoop, a motorcycle-looking tricycle thing, several tonka trucks, and two more bags of clothes for Anna. She really loves going to rummage sales, and we don't mind reaping the benefits. Goodness knows I don't have the energy to be traipsing about, yard to yard.

Wordy Meme, Baby Drama

AmandaD did this meme on her blog http://lifewithbriar.blogspot.com. I wanted to write a post today, but I didn't know how to start it without being pathetic. So this works. Feel free to use the meme for yourself. It's a nice exercise. The point is to only use one word answers. I cheated a couple of times by making up words or hyphenating. Forgive me.

1. Where is your cell phone? Toybox.
2. Relationship? Tender.
3. Your hair? Uninspiring.
4. Work? Bland.
5. Your sister? Stubborn.
6. Your favorite thing? Mommyhood.
7. Your dream last night? Unknown.
8. Your favorite drink? Water.
9. Your dream car? Organized.
10. The room you're in? Cubicle.
11. Your shoes? Flops.
12. Your fears? Anna-gone.
13. What do you want to be in 10 years? Happy.
14. Who did you hang out with this weekend? Boys.
15. What are you not good at? Pancakes.
16. Muffin? Tops.
17. One of your wish list items? Comfort.
18. Where you grew up? Woods.
19. Last thing you did? Peed.
20. What are you wearing? Support.
21. What aren't you wearing? Style.
22. Your pet? Available.
23. Your computer? Borrowed.
24. Your life? Changing.
25. Your mood? Worried.
26. Missing? Calm.
27. What are you thinking about right now? Eleven-thirty.
28. Your car? Stinky.
29. Your kitchen? Stinkier.
30. Your summer? Watery.
31. Your favorite color? Benskin.
32. Last time you laughed? Gossip.
33. Last time you cried? Car.
34. School? Uninterested.
35. Love? Yup.

I'd like to think I'm not a whiny, drama-packed person. I'd like to be calm and stable. Everytime I get upset about something, I try to step back and make a decision about whether or not it's worth being upset. Sometimes, I'm able to stop the drama there. Other times, I'm swept away. When I get ready to journal/blog, I pick and choose what I want on there. What do I want out on the web that represents my life right now? So I share some of the drama because excluding it all wouldn't be real, wouldn't be honest. And for the most part, the drama-less times of my life are hard to blog about because there's only so many ways I can describe the magic of Ben's smile or the pure, unadulterated joy of Benji Bath Time.

From my meme, though, you can probably figure out that life isn't very happy right now. And it's not. It's full of worry and anxiety and fear and pain.

Wednesday afternoon, I started getting BH contractions more than once an hour, lasting for about ten minutes each, radiating to different parts of my torso. Being a responsible pregnant lady, I logged them all, trying to identify what I was feeling and where. By the end of the day, I had put a folded blanket on my seat to cushion my heiny because it kept going numb and was very sore.

Thursday is when the fun started. Early on in the morning, I did a few undie-checks to make sure I wasn't bleeding. I had felt some "dribbling" but I didn't think it was pee. I chalked it up to girlie moisture and went on with my day. Shortly after lunch, my pelvic region started aching and I felt lots of sharp, stabbing pains in my groin area that spread down my thighs and back again. By three, when I finally called my doctor's office, it felt EXACTLY like it had right after I gave birth. Basically like I had slammed my crotch into a brick wall at 80 mph. Walking was agony, but so was sitting.

My doctor wasn't in and couldn't be reached, though they tried since she doesn't like to pass off her OB patients to the on-call doctor. They finally assigned me someone at 4, and the nurse called me back. At first she figured it was just round ligament pain, but when I described the pain as something I felt right after birth, she and the on-call doc got worried. So I was told to go home and be on bedrest for the rest of the night and to see my doctor the next day.

I cried a lot. I was worried and anxious and scared. By bedtime, the couple hours I had spent horizontal had helped and I wasn't limping anymore. I was tender, but not nearly as pain-wrecked. By morning, I was fine. I'm stiff and awkward, but I'm not in a lot of pain. I get twinges of it every once in a while, but I'm okay. I see my doctor at eleven-thirty this morning. So I'm here at work, playing online, proofing what I can reach, and keeping my feet up and my back relaxed.

Worst case scenario? Pre-term labor which isn't even called pre-term labor until I hit 20 weeks on Monday. Losing my precious baby girl would just be called a miscarriage, which makes it feel less significant, and I hate that.

Probable scenario? SPD or the separation of my pelvic bones. Caused by relaxin. They can't do much for it besides physical therapy and pain medication, and it might make a vaginal birth difficult. I had relaxin issues with Ben. By my seventh month, my wrists had loosened so much that they kept dislocating while I slept. I had to sleep with wrist bands on to keep them in place.

What I don't want to hear? That it's normal and I'm overreacting.

So I'm waiting and monitoring. Feeling okay this morning is reassuring, but now I feel like I maybe hallucinated yesterday.

The rest of my non-baby drama? My brother and his wife are at an impasse with my sister and her husband. They had a fight a couple weeks ago, and though both parties have officially apologized, the grudges remain, and they haven't resumed their usual, day-to-day relationship. I don't really care, but it upsets my mom, and that makes me upset. I get to ignore it and only have to be involved when my mom calls to vent. We are a VERY stubborn family, and we've perfected the fine art of grudge-holding. It's a talent that is passed down through the generations. Seriously. My mom isn't speaking to her siblings either. Since the current argument was over something not incredibly important or vital, eventually the affected parties will decide to move on and exist in denial that the rift ever occurred. The relationship will be stilted for a while, but that's how we roll.

I'll post again this afternoon to give a quick update on what my doctor said at the appointment.

Update: My doctor suspects I'm producing too much relaxin, the pregnancy hormone that relaxes the ligaments to prepare the body for birth. It's causing my pelvis to separate early and more than necessary. There's nothing that can be done. Just tylenol and rest when the pain starts. Good news is that it probably won't cause pre-term labor, which is good, since Baby Anna is 6 weeks away from being a NICU candidate. So I'll be relaxing a lot this weekend and trying not to stress out my hips. Wish me luck.

Weird Rash, New Daycare and Some Recipes

Why is it that your child will be moping around the house, glued to you, whimpering, sniffling, moaning with unhappiness due to illness, but the moment you get to the walk-in clinic, that same child jumps out of the stroller and starts pushing it around the waiting room like it's the best toy ever?

If it wasn't for that awful rash all over his body, they might have kicked us out for faking.

At some point last year, Ben had the same rash. We couldn't find a doctor who could tell us what it was. They just said it was probably viral, not contagious and would go away on its own eventually. FYI: the rash is red, slightly bumpy, everywhere, but mostly on the heat zones of his torso. It doesn't seem to bother him, and it doesn't itch.

The only reason we took him in yesterday was that he had been running a moderate fever all night and was acting very miserable. Because they are thorough, they tested for strep and did a blood draw to test for measles, though he'd been immunized. We won't get the results back on the measles for a couple of days. The best guess the kind doctor could give us is that it was a delayed reaction to the pulmicort that he's been on for three weeks.

Last night, after Ben had napped for most of the day and was finally starting to act a little perky, we threw him into a lukewarm bath to wash him up. And it dawned on Chester... we figured out what the rash was from the last time this happened when a few days after the rash appeared, Ben cut four new teeth at one time. It's a freaking teething rash, and we were worried about the measles.

Though a teething rash as extensive as Ben's is rare, it's happened to him before, and it explains all of his symptoms. The poor appetite, the fever, the fussiness. And of course it explains why he would shriek with pain when he'd chew on pineapple. The acid would hit his raw gums and he'd flip out.

We've decided that for the next baby, we will write down when the baby is sick, what the symptoms are, and what eventually explains it. That way we'll know and not waste the time of the nice people at the walk-in clinic. We had recognized Ben's rash, but we didn't really remember what it was from. Ugh. We'll learn eventually.

You can imagine our anxiety this morning as we tried to explain to our new daycare lady that the rash IS NOT contagious and that Ben is healthy enough to be at her house. He looks awful, and though he's acting cheerful and goofy and wonderful, one glimpse of that awful rash still sends us into a bit of a panic, and we've been looking at it for more than 36 hours now.

That brings me to my next topic. Ben's new daycare. Her name is Amber. She's a few years older than I am, and she lives in a beautiful house in a nice neighborhood that manages to be just five minutes from downtown, but still kind of on the outskirts of town so there's not a lot of traffic.

Last week was his first week with her, and he loved it. Amber says that he fits in well with her crew. The kids are nicer at her house.She says that everyone plays together well, and Ben seemed very happy to interact and play with the other kids. Thank goodness.

When we dropped him off this morning, he ran right up to her for a hug. We're all very pleased with Amber, Chester especially. To him, it feels more natural to leave Ben with someone who is allowed to really bond with him and nurture him. At the group center, there had to be more of a professional wall between the teachers and the kids since the teachers weren't always the same and there were more kids. In contrast, Amber is able to really get to know Ben and speak lovingly and glowingly about how his day was, how he's adjusting, what a joy he was, how much she loves his little smirk when he's trying not to smile.

Of course, that same closeness is what makes me more jealous. Family daycare feels more like a mother replacement because it mimics more closely what Ben would experience at his own house if we had more children. And watching him thrive at the new daycare makes me really anxious for the summer to be over so the next phase of our life can start: when I quit my job to stay home with the children.

In other news: I made a chili in the slow cooker yesterday. It was AMAZING. Three cans of dark kidney beans, drained and rinsed. Three cans of diced tomatoes, two of which were sweet onion flavored, undrained. Two cans of tomato sauce. One chopped green pepper. One vidalia onion chopped up and sauteed with a pound and a half of ground beef. I started it around seven thirty, and by noon, the whole house was infused with this delicious aroma. After adding a whole bunch of chili powder and black pepper, it was perfect. I served it with chunks of cheddar cheese over macaroni.

At lunch today, I'm throwing together another recipe to have in the cooker while we finish our workday. Cranberry chicken barbecue. It calls for a can of whole cranberry sauce, a cup of barbecue sauce and chopped onion. You layer that in the cooker with chicken breast (we use skinless, boneless), and let it cook. I bet it will taste wonderful. I've made a cranberry chicken before, baked in the oven, but never with barbecue sauce in a slow cooker. I think I'll like it a lot.