Ouch, My Uterus

Look away boys. What follows is a post solely focused on my uterus. You have been warned.

Back in May (yes, I know. I have been keeping secrets from the Internets) I started having periodic bleeding. It was crazy - no rhyme or reason. Sometimes it would be heavy. Other times just spotting. At times I would have this for a couple of days, or five days, then a day or three off. The bleeding always came back, though. I figured this was just my body's freakish way of adjusting to Pillbug beginning to wean. But, at the one month mark of this happening I decided enough was enough. I called my midwife.

I went in and had the normal exam along with a lot of discussion on what was happening throughout the month. She listened and offered two follow-up things for me to do: have an ultrasound to rule out "things" and start a round of hormones (not birth control but similar hormones to get my body on track). I was nervous about the hormones. Fake hormones, in the past, have sent me in a downward spiral with regards to my depression and I just didn't want to go there again. I knew I needed to do something, though, and so I agreed to try it for three months. I went in about two weeks later for the ultrasound and had already started the first round of hormones. Two days after the ultrasound I got The Call. As soon as I heard my midwife's voice I thought I was doomed. Cancer, I thought. I have cancer.

Turns out it is a polyp or possibly a fibroid tumor. The surgeon I met with gave me the option of leaving it in (I said no thanks) and he feels confident that there is nothing to worry about (he didn't even mention the 'c' word). So, in November I'll have a little procedure to remove this alien that has taken up presence in my uterus. It should just be a simple out patient procedure with me up and going as soon as I'm out of the stirrups.

The other day, though, I had to get a shot to "prep my uterus." (I don't know, either, just go with it like I did . . . nodding and making it look like I understood the words leaving my surgeon's mouth.) I have a little, ahem, thing with shots. Like, I can sometimes faint. Only sometimes. Really not that often. But it does happen. Sometimes. But, Ben was busy the day I needed to go in and I wasn't really thinking it was going to be a big deal and so I dropped my boys with a friend and Pillbug and I drove out to the doctor's office. Upon arrival, I found out it was a shot to be given in the buttocks, in a small curtained off area, with only a chair to sit in (so, apparently I will be standing?!). Everything happened so quickly that I didn't really have time to react, though, which was probably just what I needed. Pillbug was trying to touch the freshly alcohol-swiped area and I was trying to keep my bum from being exposed to whomever was walking down the hall. Before I knew it, I had been poked and it was over. We packed up and went out to the car.

I don't know if it was a bit of adrenaline or if the shot just didn't have an effect until a bit later, but once I sat down in the car, it felt like my leg was going to fall off. All through lunch I just wanted to lie down (not really a possibility with the children here!), but instead I mustered through. By that evening I felt a bit better and all the pain was gone the next day. It was weird, is all I'm saying.

Now, apparently, my uterus is prepped and I'm ready to be scraped and whatever else to which I nodded my head. Good thing is the "prepping" means no actual period between now and the surgery . . . now if only the spotting would stop!

And so ends my post of which the male audience may not wish to read.

Sittin' On the Dock of the . . . Bed?

I'm in bed.

It's the end of a CA-razy week. Last Tuesday I lost Fish. Friday I turned thirty. Saturday we all got the flu and Pillbug cut the tip of her finger off. Today my back decided to spasm.

So, here I sit.

*Sigh*

Here are the details of each event. Tuesday: Fish squeezed his little-big behind through a hole that he had made in our fence and then into our neighbor's fenced-in backyard. Many folks helped me search for him and he was gone a total of 15-20 minutes. It seemed like a lifetime. He patted me on the shoulder when our neighbor brought him back and said, "It's okay Mama. Don't cry. It's okay." The little buggar.

Friday: 30. 'nough said.

Saturday: I woke up thinking my hormones were to blame for feeling like a Bitch (and trust me, it deserves that capital B!), but it turned out I, and the rest of my family, was just getting a stomach bug. Of the vomiting variety. Great. It hit Ben first. Then Treefrog. I held it together until about 4 pm and asked if I could take a shot at laying down since I was feeling queasy too. I had been in our bed for roughly two minutes when I heard The Scream. I bolted out of bed and met Ben at our bathroom door. He was holding our screaming Pillbug who was missing the tip of her finger. Sweet Treefrog had been trying to bring Ben a glass of water since he was throwing up. Ben told Treefrog to shut the door so Pillbug didn't follow him in and Treefrog shut it rather aggressively, taking Pillbug's middle finger with it. Oh, that image is hard for me to remember. She and I rode in an ambulance to our Children's hospital and met our favorite ER doc. He gave her six stitches and sent us on our way. Tylenol and Ibuprophen are working wonders at controlling her pain. I found out today that she really likes to look at it and try to pull the stitches out. Apparently, it isn't bothering her too much.

Today: Scene - lunch time in a typical American house. Mama is shredding cheese for quesadillas. Friend of the Dad, J is keeping Pillbug from clawing at Mama. Mama is looking uncomfortable.

Mama: Gosh, I really need to crack my back. And if I am ever rich I am buying all my cheese pre-shredded!

Dad enters kitchen.

Mama: Oh, I'm glad you're home! If you pick me up to crack my back, will it work in the middle?

Dad: Yeah, it should.

Mama: Wait! You have a broken back. You can't lift me!

Dad: Yes I can!

Dad begins chasing Mama around trying to pick her up.

Mama: Joke's over! Stop it!

Mama lays on floor and swings legs from side to side to stretch and crack her back. She attempts to get up from the floor and at that moment realizes she has made a mistake. A very. big. mistake.

Yes, this is my life. One child who is an escape artist, one with stitches, and me not being able to move an inch without shooting pain in my back. Oh to be 29 again!

In Which I Share Too Much About My Feet

I have issues with my feet. I am currently seeking out a support group for my feet. Let me know if you hear of a good one.

I remember as a kid HATING my feet. I was embarassed to wear flip-flops. I don't think I owned a pair of shoes that showed my feet until I was in college. I had to make a conscious decision to Stop. Hating. My. Feet. FortheloveofGod. The reason eludes me now. Maybe my toes were too stubby. Maybe the sides of my feet hung over every pair of sandals I ever tried on. . . who knows.

In college, I remember realizing that my feet weren't all that bad. Sure, they were wider than the average foot, but all in all, not too shabby. I started buying flip flops and I even got a pair of Birkenstocks (shut up - they were cool). I even painted my toenails.

Then I had a kid (and another, and another) and we moved to Oregon (is this a reason why? I'm not sure) and I began to have new foot-issues. You see, I have extremely dry skin. I use lotion like no one's business and still, my dryness persists. However, until a few years ago, I don't ever remember my feet suffering from this. Summers have turned into torture for my feet. They get so dry, they peel, they crack open, they are pretty much a pain in my arse.

For a while now, I have been treating this with lotion and socks at night and not wearing my sandals as much. This system has worked okay. It keeps the awful cracking at bay for the most part. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I noticed a spot on the ball of my foot that hurt with every step. I just ignored it, thinking it would eventually heal (it was probably just a cracked spot anyway, I thought). It hadn't gone away and last night, I decided it was time to inspect the buggar. Turns out there is a planar wart hanging out down there. Awesome. I now am hobbling around with an apple-cider-vinegar-soaked cotton ball bandaided to the ball of my foot in hopes that the acid will take care of it. The Internets tell me that this method will take around three weeks, but is less painful than having it cut or frozen and is a more permanent solution. Because, apparently, these things are prone to inviting friends. Awesome.

Don't worry. I'll keep you posted on how this treatment works and whether or not I can regain a love for my feet.

One Computer Crash Later . . .

We have had a wonderful weekend and beginning to our week. We spent Memorial Day weekend with Ben's family at a campground close to the coast (like within a mile from the coast, but, interestingly enough, I never seemed to make it there). It was truly a great trip for us. The kids had a blast, were filthy, and were totally worn out by the time we arrived home. We then began the birthday craziness in our family. . .

Our dearest Fish was born May 31, 2007. Pillbug decided to make her entrance into the world on June 1, 2009. So, it was our first year of birthday extravaganza!!! We had pancakes two days in a row since each child gets pancakes on his/her birthday in the shape of his/her age. As well as birthday cake and presents for each day. Whew - this is one tired out Mama!

One awful thing did happen this weekend, our computer's hard drive decided to go kaputt. Once again we may have lost all of our children's photographs (there is one more chance that they will be recovered on Thursday - keep those fingers crossed!!). We are for sure purchasing an external hard drive now. No more waiting for us. Uh-uh. We are on it. First thing tomorrow. I am waiting to do the birthday posts for Fish and Pillbug until after I see how many photographs can be recovered. Is it sacrilegious to pray about photos?

Oregon Rain

[Side note: my favorite Phish song is their cover of Purple Rain, originally recorded by Prince. I find that funny.]

[Side, side note: this is my 100th post. I find that fun.]

Upon deciding to move to the great state of Oregon, Ben gave me a few 'lessons' in Oregon culture. He figured that we would fit in since, in our southwestern Pennsylvania home, we were known as the 'crunchy-granolas' because we, . . . wait for it . . . recycled and liked to camp - insert astonished, mouth-opened-wide GASP!! (Okay, so there may have been a few talks about me wanting dreads, but those never came to fruition so technically that shouldn't count against us.) Ben also assured me that our political views would probably not seem quite so left (indeed, we actually fall closer to the middle than the far left out here. In PA, we were most definitely far left-ists!).

The lesson that I like to bring up often though, the one at which I am constantly baffled that I believed, is Ben's proclamation that rain in Oregon isn't really like rain in PA. It's more of a drizzle; a constant one, he said, but a misty-drizzle nonetheless. Yes, to some degree my loving husband is correct. There are days that are just plain moist. Days when, though there is technically nothing falling from the sky, the glasses that adorn my face are wet and the air is thick. However, more days than not, my amazing man is wrong. We have actual raindrops falling from the sky, a LOT of raindrops falling. And, for the past couple of weeks we have been having downpours. Like, cats and dogs downpours. Spattered with hail. I am trying desperately to keep a good attitude these days, but holy hell, this is a lot of rain. I need some sunshine in my life (and would like to actually get some plants for the garden, call me crazy here, planted in the ground).

To Oregon's credit, we do have wonderfully warm, dry summers (usually July through September). Those are the months we all live for (and the sporadic days throughout the remainder of the year that we are given sunshine).

I guess for now I will continue to live for and look forward to those 90 degree days, full of sun, and out-of-door playtimes, with a thriving garden in the background. . .

TV Has Become My Life

Wow - 32 weeks and counting. My back is much better. One Wednesday I woke up and baby had moved, so no more back pain! About a week or so later I went into early labor and and had quite a few hard contractions. We had two appointments in a week and I ended up sleeping every chance I got for the remainder of the week. Contractions lasted through this weekend (though not as hard as the ones on Tuesday). I have found myself staying at home a lot and in front of the television.

This is a pretty big switch from our normal life. Ben and I normally play games in the evenings or read together on the couch. The TV was only used as the free babysitter it should be used as:) I'm trying to give myself the freedom to embrace this time - the exhaustion, the uncomfortable body, the lack of a brain, etc. But it is hard. I am not the Mama I want to be during pregnancy. I notice it so much more this time around since Treefrog is older and will tell me when he doesn't like what's happening. He is definitely seeking attention in crazy ways (pretending to be a baby, disobeying, intentionally hurting Fish). I know many of these actions are normal 3/4 year old behavior, but it is also a reflection of how little energy I have for playing in the afternoon, or mornings for that matter!

Each day I'm starting with a simple prayer, "Help me, Jesus." I know that this is just a short season of our life and I know that God is so much bigger than my poor parenting during these nine months. Just yesterday Treefrog and I talked about how he is so lucky to have a papa here and one in Heaven who is with him all the time. He even decided to play a game with Jesus for while:) I know he is being taken care of, that he recognizes that God is with him, I just wish we could fast forward through this pregnancy to having the baby and trying to get back to "normal," whatever that will look like with three kids!

Tired Eyes

Sleep isn't coming easily these days. My back has been really hurting and I finally picked up that virus that my boys have both been fighting for two (three?) weeks now. I succumbed to Unisom last night, but still had interrupted sleep as my throat dries out considerably throughout the night. Each day I try to encourage myself that I am one day closer to being done with this cold and my night's sleep should be better:)

Tonight should be a fun night, however. Ben and I won tickets through a raffle at the college where he works and so he and I are heading in to Portland to see a Trailblazers game. This is my first NBA game ever, so I'm pretty excited. Plus, a little trip to VooDoo Donuts will be in order for after the game! Trans fats here we come!!

Surviving the Chaos

Well, hopefully that is what I'm doing. Sometimes it feels like I'm drowning in it.

We returned home from Christmas back east on Sunday and have been in recovery mode ever since. Our suitcases are still on the floor in various parts of the house. My pregnant body has still not fully recovered from two weeks in a foreign bed and eight hours in the air. My house was a little clean when we returned but now looks as though it vomited all over itself. The good? The boys are both sleeping through the night and seem to have adjusted back to our time zone (thank you Melatonin!!!). I don't have to cook lunch or dinner since we eat at the college's cafeteria. And, I can give the boys a loving shove out the back door when the house starts to close in on us (thank goodness there is not a train in our back yard!!!!).

So, at times I am feeling quite overwhelmed with all our stuff hanging around. However, there are quick moments now and again where I feel so blessed to be here. To be with my boys (oh yea, and this little girl I'm carrying around!), to drink in their energy and love and enjoy the moments we have together. I guess that is the only way one can survive the chaos!

"Christmas is All Around Us"

Oh, such a funny movie . . . Love Actually in case you didn't get the quote in the title.

So, we are still in the Pacific Northwest and waiting patiently to begin our vacation to the east coast. We are scheduled on a red-eye tomorrow night, and though it is not the ideal flight we had in mind, we'll take it because I just want to get to my mom's for Christmas. It's kind of a big deal.

We have had three days of non-stop action here. On Thursday evening Ben's parents came to our house to celebrate Christmas early since we would be gone. On Friday we had a larger family Christmas gathering at Ben's uncle's house. And yesterday was the same uncle's birthday party a couple towns away. Each event involved a pretty treacherous trek over snow and/or ice depending on the day. We bought our first set of chains and used them the same day due to the snow and ice covered roads. The time with family was good, but frustrating as well. I've shared before how my mother-in-law doesn't communicate well and these events were no exception. We literally found out early each day what time events were being held and didn't know until after the birthday party that there was an additional dinner being held that night. I'm glad the time with Ben's family is over. I need a break!

Hopefully the boys will get another good night's rest and we'll all be ready for our night time flight to Pittsburgh. Jesus, help us be patient parents on this journey and as we battle fatigue on the other end as well!

What I'm Doing Right Now

Talking to an agent with United to get a new flight since ours was canceled due to the snow.

Awesome.

The Pregnancy Blecks

All my pregnancies have been very different. With Treefrog, I found out immediately (cause I was watching the calendar like a hawk) and played up every little symptom I had. Or so it seems now (I'll address this later). I was sick (literally - on antibiotics at least once each trimester), I was tired, I was so very bad at being pregnant. I had an awful attitude. Even though I wanted to be pregnant, I didn't like the out-of-control feeling . . . maybe this is a pattern in my life. I gave birth to Treefrog in a non-emergency, but "very fast," c-section due to his heart condition found shortly after birth.

Two years later, I was pregnant with Fish for a couple months before finding out. We were trying, but I was much too busy chasing Treefrog around to notice a late period. The tiredness was there. Oh boy, I relished the two hour naptime Treefrog took! The crankiness was there somewhat, but all around, the pregnancy was different. I was nauseated this time, but only for about two weeks. This pregnancy was, well, easy. I carried Fish until I went into labor on my own nine days before his due date. I labored for about 12 hours and then had a c-section for lack of progress.

Fast forward two more years and I find myself pregnant again. We were definitely trying, but had not expected to get pregnant this early (with both previous pregnancies it took us 3 and 4 months to have success). I knew when implantation happened (mostly because my friend J was with me, telling me that's what was going on in my body). From implantation on (or so it seems), I have been sick - nauseated sick. I will have a couple of good days and then, much like today, it will hit me head-on. Sleeping sometimes helps. Sometimes eating something with a healthy does of good fat (cheese quesadilla or peanut butter sandwich for instance) helps. Sometimes no matter what I try, I end up feeling sick the entire day. This pregnancy makes me realize that I was such a whiny-pants during the first pregnancy! This pregnancy makes me look back wistfully at my second one. This pregnancy makes me want to crawl into a hole and wait there until the baby decides to come out, or until the scheduled c-section, whichever comes first.

Don't get me wrong, though. I'm very happy to be welcoming child number three into our home. I'm very blessed with the type of husband who is in love with being around to help (see yesterday's post). I'm superbly blessed with in-laws who take one or both of the boys each weekend to ensure a good night's rest for both Ben and I. Every once in a while, though, it is just nice to complain:)

Wow, Okay, It's Almost November

So, there are many days that I feel like I should just post a little update. Something small to tell all those readers out there just what I'm doing or have done or am wishing I had gotten done. And then another day passes and I'm still in the same boat. It is still floating, mind you, however, I think my feet are getting quite wet . . .

Well, here's a little update:

Our kiddos have taken to waking up sometime between 2am and 4am. Sometimes they will go back to sleep, but often times (like this morning for instance) my ever-loving, always sacrificing husband gets up and either plays with them or vainly tries to sleep through their playing upstairs. It is OLD and it NEEDS TO STOP!!!!

Part of the reason that Ben is so intent on helping out during the night is because I am 8 weeks pregnant and in full swing of hormonal woes. I am emotional, sick spontaneously, and tired 99% of the time. It's great. I love being pregnant. Can I do this again?! (If you can't hear the sarcasm, please stop reading!)

Homeschooling happened for about two weeks. It wasn't working for Treefrog (I needed to switch up my curriculum a bit) and then my dad came for an extended stay. That was the hardest three weeks of my life. I felt like such a failure for stopping school. Plus, I was an emotional wreck dealing with my high-maintenance dad on a day-to-day basis.

I think that brings you up to speed. I'll try to do better at posting as long as my life continues on a normal sort of path. I also want to spend more time on the good. Maybe I'll even post twice today so that a negative post isn't the only thing you get!

p.s. We are VERY excited to welcome a new life into ours. Treefrog loves looking at the baby's picture from the ultrasound and I love showing it to him. We talk about whether the baby is happy in Mama's tummy and what he/she is doing in there. It is wonderful to watch him think about the baby!

Flying Home . . . Maybe

Things with my grandmother back east got a little hairy a couple days ago and so it became apparent to me that I needed to fly by to my hometown to help my mom care for my grandparents. Yesterday morning, I loaded up the kids, two bags, a backpack that weighed WAY too much, a stroller, and some dumb luck. I use this phrase 'dumb luck' not in its usual way, but to say that the luck I had? was dumb, because it was non-existent.

We arrived at the airport with plenty of time. Stood in the llllloooonnnnnggg line patiently. Waited while the woman checking my bags went to get an agent and never. came. back. Finally got to security, shuffled to the "family line" where it takes twice as long (but, supposedly people aren't bitchy - uhhhh, apparently the woman behind me missed that memo). Then, two things happened that are, admittedly, insanely lucky: We went through security without a hitch AND our gate was the very! first! gate! Sadly, my friends, that is where the luck ends. . .

We got to our gate and waited. And waited. And waited. Oh, look! The plane is here. We just need to wait until they clean the plane, Treefrog, and then we'll be able to get on. What? What's that? Oh, the woman just said there is a bubble in the windshield of the plane (wtf?). It will take an hour and a half to fix. Hmmm, our connecting flight will probably not wait for us. Let's go stand in the line 40 people deep to the woman who is making all these announcements and has to keep leaving to take care of who knows what (again, wtf?). Yeah! It's our turn! We could fly half-way tonight and finish tomorrow? Um, no thank you to a hotel room tonight with kids by myself. Can I just fly out tomorrow? Yes? Okay. Same time, same place tomorrow, baby. We'll be back.

The end.

Taking a Peek

Each day as we are walking to dinner (we live on a college campus and eat lunch and dinner in the cafeteria daily) we pass by our "New House" as we have deemed it. Each day one of us says, "Let's just take a peek." Each day we are sorely disappointed at the progress.

Did I mention we are moving in four days? I think I was wrong.

It occurred to me today that the things they have left to do will most likely not be done in four days time. I am saddened by this, but mostly it makes me tired. I am trying to create a stable environment for Treefrog and Fish, but each day we step around boxes and each day I pack a little more of our belongings and each day our stability drifts away.

I am tired. Tired of my life being confined to boxes, tired of vacuuming around those boxes, tired of stepping over the boxes, tired of watching the s l o w progression of the house, tired of being asked when we are moving or if we have moved. I'm tired people.

Irony at work

Yesterday a friend came over to help me pack. Treefrog was with his grandparents, so we tackled his room. We worked efficiently, organized hand-me-downs, and also got the linen closet mostly packed.

Aaaaaaaaand then they told us we wouldn't be moving until the weekend.

Awesome.

So, back to my mantra from the last post: Did I mention I'm moving in a week?

Transitions

About two and a half years ago, my first child was born. Treefrog had some heart issues that caused him to stay in a children's hospital for about eighteen days. During this time, Ben accepted a job roughly 3,000 miles from where we were currently living. I willingly went along with this, because, well, I'm insane. We moved here to the Great Northwest and have loved every minute of it. This is a place where we feel like we actually fit in.

This year, Ben accepted another job. This is with the same school (he works in higher education with student leaders), but it is more time, more money, and a different house (the university provides housing for people in his position). So, a mere four months after our second child was born, we are in the midst of packing boxes once again. This is all very reminiscent of two and a half years ago (only this time I have a two year old who is loving! all! the! boxes!). In addition to Ben's new job and the move, I also am taking a new job. It is just a ten hour per week gig, but it will still be a significant chunk of time away from my family.

I'm feeling very overwhelmed these days. I'm crying at the drop of a hat (or a misplaced wallet, or a forgotten load of laundry . . . the list goes on) and I am having an extremely hard time motivating myself to get things done. I hope this is temporary, but temporary has been going on for about a month and a half now, so I'm not so sure anymore.

I'm tired. I want to be all done moving and all done with change. When will that happen?