Starting to blog about health

My infertility/parenting blog has slowed (not stopped), but slowed as my focus has shifted to figuring out how I got 50 pounds overweight and what I'm doing about it:

http://strengthinmovement.blogspot.com

Almost a month

Amazingly, it has been almost a month since I was rushed to the hospital.  A month since my gallbladder was removed.  And almost a month since the words "renal mass" sent me to a dark place in my mind to wait until further testing.  That dark place was frightening.  It was a place where I wondered who would speak at my funeral.  I wondered if I should start going through my old sentimental things so no one else would have the task after I was gone.  I almost threw up with the thought that I could potentially leave my husband without a wife and my son without a mother.  It was dark.  I was recovering from surgery, I was stuck in my house, still in pain, so very much stuck in my head with the saddest of thoughts, with the most worrisome of dreams.

Doctors saw the mass while dealing with my gallbladder.  It was a concern to them, but the testing had to wait until after I was out of the hospital.  That should have brought me comfort, the idea that the test can wait, but instead it fueled my worry and extended my stress.  It was a CT scan done on a Monday.  By Tuesday morning I had broken out in a full body itchy rash.  Thursday were the results.  I spent those days itchy and worried.  Spontaneously breaking into tears.  C was worried too, but it came out with him telling me not to cry in front of N.  My brother (who in 35 years we have never said shut up to each other or called each other names) told me to shut up and called me stupid.  It was out of FEAR.  He apologized.  He said it was because I was making him think about something he never wanted to think about.  I get that.  I didn't want to think about it either.  But it was all I could think about.  I made super awkward jokes and would say things like, "Look at this gorgeous day, I can't go yet."  I went from zero to a million in those few days and even when the news came back OK, it was hard to feel relief right away.

The news came back OK.  There is something there, but it isn't something that needs to be dealt with immediately.  It was just something they want to check again in 6 months.  My itchy rash subsided within a few days after the results.  Mom thinks it came on from stress.  I wouldn't be surprised.  There are still pains and pangs, but my thoughts are less dramatic and more secure, remembering that I had surgery a month ago.  One of my organs was removed.  There is an adjustment.  My energy still sucks.  My body reminds me that while the same food is going in, things are a bit different in there.  I'm getting there though.  One month makes a big difference.  I am slowing able to start working out again, back to lifting my 2 year old, and making better decisions about what I am eating.  My thoughts are less dramatic and more mundane.  Whats for dinner?  Back to the reality of a home desk stacked with papers.  Calls to the insurance company.  Its ok.  Mundane is nice.  But a shake up to the status quo is also not so bad.  Changing your thoughts, remembering what is really important.  Confirming that a snoring husband in a cozy bed is still a million times better than a lonely hospital room, a beeping IV machine and having to call for help to pee.

As an infertile, one month also has a different meaning.  Another cycle.  Another period that moves me closer to whatever our next step is.  There is a next step.  It is not soon.

2013 has been a year with plenty of opportunity to go with the flow.  Going with the flow is an art form.  I'm getting lots of practice.

Gallbladder. Gone.

It's been exactly one week since I got home from the hospital.  The weather is almost exactly the same.  A perfect blue sky and gorgeous breeze.  I sat in a rocking chair on the front porch and took the deep breaths the nurse told me to take to stimulate healing and drank my hospital sized water.  Today I sit at my computer.  Window open to let in that same perfect breeze and water now in my normal drinking glass.

A lot has changed in a week.  A LOT has changed in two weeks.

Last Wednesday, my day could not have been more normal, even boring to start.  I had an electrician over in the morning for a small job.  Ate a regular lunch with my son at the table before putting him down for a nap.  We played the typical game of "I'm not tired"  "Yes, you are" for 20 minutes before he finally fell asleep and once he was asleep I had a fleeting thought of I want to get started on the living room I've been wanting to paint.  I had even bought the paint the day before.

But, instead of painting I laid down.  I was uncomfortable, almost like I was getting my period, or even getting a bladder infection.  I felt yucky and tired.  And I napped.

I woke up when N woke up.  But, it wasn't good.  I was sweaty and in massive pain.  There was no position that was tolerable.  I could barely stand up straight.  I whispered to N that Mommy was sick, that we needed to call Dadddy.  That Daddy needed to be home immediately.  N is 2.  He couldn't help me, and thankfully played as normal.  I found my phone.  C was on his way.  I told him we needed to go to the ER.  He was still 20 minutes away.  20 minutes felt like an absolute eternity.  I managed to get N to come downstairs.  He played while I wrenched in pain and tried not to cry out.  I didn't want to scare him.  But, I was scared.

When C got home he packed up N and anything else we needed and then packed me up too.  I could barely walk to the car.  I sat crumpled in a ball in the seat, not talking, still trying not to cry out in pain.  When we got to the ER, I walked in the door and immediately said I am going to throw up.  They got me a wheelchair and a bucket.  I threw up in the bucket and will forever remember the  face of the 8 year old with his father watching me hurl.  N said, "Mama?"  C rubbed my head.  They got  me a bed right away.

Painkiller, shots, blood draws, scans to be determined it was my gall bladder and it needed to come out.

After 4 days in the hospital and one gallbladder removal I am home.  Back where I belong.

I'm debating whether to write more.  They saw a "bump" on my kidney while they were scanning.  I'm going back to the doctor for more scanning.  It could be nothing.  It could be something small or it could be a really big deal.  I'm trying to stay calm, but it is frighteningly easy for your mind to run away especially when recovery gives me a lot of time to think.  The doctor doesn't seem to be in a rush about it which makes me want to take that as a sign that it isn't a big deal.  I'm trying to go into next week with a positive attitude and not worry "until there is something to worry about."

For now I'm home.  Right where I belong.

Adjusting

Blog posts seem to come to me at time when I am working things out in my head.  I've always talked to myself, but since I started my blog, my working things out voice comes out as if I am writing a post and talking to you.  It helps.  A lot.  Its comforting imagining that I am helping someone else.  Maybe it also means I need some more IRL friends.  

It seems as though 2013 is bound to get me to go with the flow.  More than anything I've found myself saying "Ok, thats not the way I thought this day, week, event (even hour) would go" and feel myself adjusting.  That adjustment, zigging when I planned to zag, is not something that comes naturally to me (as much as I would like to think it does) and time and time again this year it keeps coming up.  

I feel really aware of the adjustment in my personality.  Maybe my memory just sucks, but I can't remember being so aware of my own thought process.  Maybe that comes from being hyper-aware of what my now 2 year old is doing.  The vigilant hawk keeping watch over a tornado all day.  All day.  All day.  Naptime hasn't been easy.  My beautiful sleeper decided to climb out of his crib a month before his second birthday and EVERYTHING changed.  The crib is now a toddler bed, the toddler took one more step towards free will and now naptime is his time.  It used to be my time.  It is now why I am writing a post at midnight.  MY time changed and I don't really have a say.  

I had plans for this weekend.  I was going to work and I was going to be the old me for a few hours.  Not the me with peanut butter in her hair, still wearing the pjs from last night, who might or might not have eaten a cookie N dropped right off the floor.  But the me who is (was??) young, hip and working in the city.  It fell through.  The job got cancelled and my plans changed.  I had to adjust.  I'm writing a blog post at midnight after doing laundry all day.  Washing and hanging as my dryer is broken until Tuesday.  My towels are crunchy (but clean and dry), the linens are dirty from the company and sit in a pile waiting until the repair can happen, I didn't finish all the projects I pinned for our birthday this past weekend and I had to be ok with it.  

The things I can get done with a 2 year old in a toddler bed are very different than what I could get done with a 1 year old in a crib.  I'm adjusting.

And I'm super aware of it.  

a pile of stuff

Two and 1/2 months is a long time to be away from my blog.  I found myself in the crazy that is November and December missing writing and still never finding the time to do it.  Now that the decorations are put away and all the new toys have found new homes, even some old toys ready to be donated, I wanted to get back here and get some things out.

One of those things is my attempt at organizing paperwork.  If you have any suggestions about keeping paperwork filed and under control, I'll happily take them.  In organizing, I found my huge file of IVF paperwork.  It seems in true scrapbooker form I've kept everything from receipts to shipping labels to drug side effect pamphlets.  And while I am not making an IVF scrapbook any time soon ever, I couldn't seem to throw away the unnecessary paper.

In high school, I took two rounds of A.ccutane (with success) to clear up a LONG period of endless breakouts.  I kept all the boxes of drugs for the length of time I took them and when it was done I took a picture of all the boxes and then threw them away.

Maybe that is what I need to do with the IVF paper.  I think I will always keep the calendar and schedule of the cycle that brought us N, but the rest should go.  Right?  Or is it my medal?  The proof of all that I went through.  So for now the paperwork sits in a green folder in our file cabinet.

Is it me or are your eyes bigger than your time when it comes to craft projects too?  N and I almost share a birthday (one day apart!) and we are planning a joint birthday party.  I can't get off Pin.terest and right now on my desk I am surrounded by a glue gun, two different kinds of tape, a stack of paper, webbing and twine.

I should be in bed.  Hoped to be in bed an hour ago, but now I'm planning for sometime in the next 20 minutes.  I want to start going to bed earlier and get the day going sooner in the mornings, but I'm such a night owl it is hard to adjust.  I want to do it because C goes to bed early for work and I want to get things done in the early hours before N wakes up in the morning.  As it stands now, both my guys are asleep early and I'm walking around on tiptoes trying not to wake anybody up.  Its not a good system anymore.  So, I'm working on it.  Since C's work and N's sleep schedule are not changing anytime soon.

Speaking of N, I think we just dove headfirst into a touch of separation anxiety.  He has always cried for a few minutes every time we put him down for a nap or to bed for the night.  As long as it didn't go past 10 minutes, we would let him get it out and then fall asleep.  It always worked and he woke up happy and rested.  In the last few days, N's cry has become much more desperate.  There is a change in pitch and he even gets agitated as we are starting the evening routine.  It is breaking my heart, but I feel like we are in a position to set ourselves up for some very long nights if we change what we do and run in there.  He still falls asleep within those 10 minutes, but the cry is so much harder.  So thats happening.

He is eating MUCH better though.

Speaking of eating...I've lost 12 pounds since Thanksgiving.  More to go.

Time for bed.

My Time Management Sucks

I was going to call this post negativity, but that sounded to me too much like the results of a pregnancy test and that is not what this is about at all.  It is about how it feels to honestly look at yourself and be called out on some negativity that has been coming out of your mouth and showing in your actions.

Growing up, I was known as a pretty positive person.  Looking to build other people up, even going so far as to take their feelings and make them my own.  Empathy to the nth degree.

It has always been exhausting, but when you are young and only have to worry about school and putting gas in your car, it is fairly easy to deal with. When you are sneaking up on 40, with a toddler, a DH with a stressful job, and have been doing an inordinate amount of not for leisure travel over the past few months, it is much harder to keep your positive flow.

I've been complaining (I recently learned) a LOT about not having any time.  It is a very legitimate thing when you have an infant and you are still trying to remember if you already had lunch.  It becomes more about poor time management when you have a toddler who sleeps in until 10am and takes a 3 hour nap and have family nearby ready to lend a hand.

So my time management sucks.

It is hard to get called on something you are doing.  In my case, doing a LOT of complaining and not a lot of trying to fix the many things bogging me down.

One of those things is a friend of mine.  One of my very closest.  She is going through a few different things that are challenging and she is complaining.  A lot.  Daily.  Through calls and emails and texts.  I'm turning around and telling DH about it.  Under the guise of how can we learn from what she is going through, but I think sometimes it is to make yourself feel better as in, "at least I'm not THAT bad."  That sucks.  On a few different levels.

I'm also listening to many podcasts and audiobooks.  Many.  All day.  Playing in the background, while I feed and play with N, clean the house, drive the car.  They are on constantly.  They are my friends.  They are my escape from the things that bog my mind down.  They are my escape from the overwhelming empathy and feelings that I'm not enough for anyone.

DH's job is very stressful right now and I feel like more often than not, I don't know what to say.
N is very challenging to feed right now, in that toddler what worked for me yesterday is definitely not going to work today.  He has literally put his pointer finger on one corner of a piece of chicken or fruit or whatever and looked at me like "how dare you put that on my tray??"
I just got finished planning and pulling off a family party (with help) that went beautifully and I felt like somehow someone was going to be disappointed with something.  I felt like I needed days to recover afterwards.

I realize that I am putting some imaginary pressure on myself.  That if I need help, I just need to ask.  I can tell DH that I don't know what to say, but that I wish I did and that no matter what, he has my support and love.  I know I can laugh when N will throw a cookie on the floor one day and the next be pushing a chair to the cabinet to get one.  When he will ONLY eat avocado and the next day when he pokes at it and says "Ow" with his eyes.  I know that party was beautiful.  I know everyone said they were happy.  I still can't help but wonder if everyone was telling the truth.  My family is really good at hiding their true feelings.

I should be packing right now to go on the road again tomorrow.  Instead, I am going to go to sleep.  I will get up an hour early and pack.  An hour will be enough, because I will focus on exactly my task.  My phone will be off.  My computer will be off.  I will get up.  Have a cup of coffee and take a shower.  I will pack a bag.  I will focus on my task and baby step them out of my brain and be in the moment.

Maybe what this is what this is all about.  Being in the moment.  If you are in the moment, you don't have time to worry about what everybody else is doing or thinking or feeling.

Ok.  Tomorrow I start focused.  I'll update this and let you know how it goes.

Stronger

I was going to title this post "A Little Stronger", but I'm feeling more than a little stronger.  I won't go so far as to say "a lot", but I'm getting there.

Back in August, and I write that as if it was years instead of weeks ago, I was posting and thinking about death.  The feeling was pervasive, getting into my thoughts while washing dishes and dreams at night and happily in the last few weeks, it has been relegated to the far back of my mind, instead of the forefront.

September was a BUSY month and a month in which I had to spend a lot of time alone racking UP the mileage on my car.  I had two massive road trips that I had to make alone and not only was I missing DH and my baby boy, I had to drive at all hours, spoiling my reputation of sleeping on long road trips.  Audio books and 5hour-energy were my closest friends and as cliched as it might be, I learned a bit about myself.

I learned that it didn't matter if it was my first overnight trip away from my son or my second, I tear up just the same while driving away.

I learned that a little time apart is OK.  N was just fine with his Daddy and their boy time is just as important as my alone time.

For both trips I started the night before with thoughts of, "I really don't want to go"  "Really.  Really. Don't want to go." "Don't need to go, it doesn't matter if I go."  But it did and it does and in the end was very worth it. (Again, apologies for the vagueness.  This is the nature of trying to keep my blog fairly private).

It had been years since I hit the road like that.  It was important because it was for family and getting closer to some relatives that I had been rather distant with over the years and it turned out to be worth it in spades.  It reminded me of how important it is to make the time to be with the people we care about.  To stay open to possibilities and opportunities that might otherwise make me want to stay under the covers.  To make the effort and just be in the moment.  To realize that Mentos are my go-to road candy and you must never ever wait until the "next" rest stop.

It also reminded me of how valuable decompression time is after all that travel is too.  I'm still working on that one.

I also had some friends in town who came with their children.  It was beyond awesome to see our kids play together and strengthened my feelings of a sibling for N.  I tear up (again) with the thought of what a wonderful older brother he would be.  But, as I watched my friend struggle with a toddler and an infant, watched her wash pump parts and wait up until midnight to pump, only to be awoken less than 4 hours later, I remembered the relief that I felt when I put the pump away, the sheer ecstasy of sleeping more than 6 hours in a row and I realized that I won't be devastated if this doesn't happen again for us.

Our family of three is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

On a different kind of strength note, I dug up and swore at a huge bush, roots and all tonight.  I started off just doing some light yard work and asked DH to let me know an hour had gone by.  I was just going to trim that gnarly bush in the front and then I was just going to clip it back a little more and then I just started digging.  And clipping.  And swearing "You will not beat me bush!"  After another hour passed my original hour, I got that bush up and out.  I filled the hole back in with dirt.  It is ready for a new start.

I'm ready for a new start.  Stronger than before.