Seashell Nails

One of my co-workers recently said, "We all have the same amount of time. Each of us has the same amount of time as Bill Gates, but we all choose to use it differently." Yes, we all have the same amount of time in a day, a week, a month, or a year; but, how we fill that time is unique to our lives. I choose to fill my time with my full-time day job, volunteering opportunities at my children's school, teaching swim lessons, writing, and reading mostly.

Tonight, though, I let my daughter lead the way. She's already a high-maintenance kiddo at eight years old and loves the opportunity to get her nails painted, but she likes even more painting my nails. Several years ago she found some pink nail polish and I allowed her to paint my nails. I had finger nail polish all the way to my knuckle, but she was proud - and I showed it off on Facebook. This evening, she went all out for the experience of having a spa-like treatment at home. The petite little girl carried a bucket of hot water from our bathtub to the living room so that I could soak my feet while she painted my fingernails! Her attention to an ABC pattern was extreme and of course rounded out my nails with sparkles.

Her engagement in making me feel like a princess was wonderful - aside from her throwing my book on the ground (I thought we were just doing toes). I sat and relaxed while she attended to my fingers and my toes and I focused only on my breath while cherishing her willingness to create a special bond between us. Then it was my turn to paint her fingers and toes. And it was her idea to match. :)

Sometimes, I get wrapped up in the horrible things I have going on - stress at work, trying to sell a house, having a swollen optic nerve, and fighting a chesty (is that even a word to describe it?!) illness for a month - that I forget to appreciate the small, ordinary things I can do with my kids. But tonight I remembered to slow down. I remembered the mom that I wanted to be and the reason that I became a mom and we relaxed together to the tun of what we decided were "seashell nails."

You're Looking Skinny

I was working on my #ThisIsUs blog post on Monday, but had to walk away because I couldn't figure out how to combine everything I wanted to say together. Tonight, I deleted some information and decided that it was time to start a new post. The words that I wrote about how I related to Kate seemed to stand on their own and open up doors for new posts.

Yesterday, I was walking down the hall at work when one of my co-workers said, "You're Looking Skinny." I am definitely not skinny by any sense of the word, but I have lost more than 25 pounds since the beginning of the year.

Up until yesterday, I really didn't think anyone noticed. I really didn't think that it was any more visible than Kate's monologue about losing forty pounds without a fad diet or pills. I was feeling like it was invisible - my efforts, but with that small acknowledgement it gives me hope that I can continue a slow and steady journey to better health.

Are you on a journey to better health? Leave a comment with what you're doing to take control and be healthier.

This Is Us

Last week in my misery, I did get some quality time with Hulu. I watched the full first season of The Resident, and watched the season premieres of This Is Us and The Good Doctor. In my busyness of being a mom, working two jobs (one full-time and one very part-time), writing, and volunteering, I have few occasions to veg out and binge watch television, but when you can't breathe and talk for more than two sentences, watching TV becomes almost as attractive as sleep.

I absolutely love This Is Us. Maybe it is because Kate, Randall, and Kevin are in their mid-thirties so their life experiences are my life experiences. Maybe it is because Jack and Rebecca have a fabulous love story. Or maybe it is because it is just a well-written script and it pulls you in. But, in all reality, it is probably because I identify with Kate.

Spoiler Alert: I will be giving things away about the first episode of season 3, so read on with caution.

Season 3 begins at the end of Kate and Toby's wedding, fast-forwards to throwing out pregnancy tests that say "Not Pregnant" and a visit to the doctor's office where Kate is told she has PCOS (poly cystic ovary syndrome). Unlike Kate, I never was diagnosed with PCOS, but like Kate, I was told that my weight was likely causing my infertility problems. Like Kate, I have never been small. Like Kate, I had a miscarriage with my first pregnancy. Unlike Kate, I never considered IVF, but like Kate, I sat across from doctors that said, "at your BMI, a pregnancy is likely to be unsuccessful." And also like Kate, I walked out of doctors' offices in tears.

At her birthday brunch, Kate blows out the candles, tells everyone her wish for a baby and then breaks down and says, "Do you know that I've lost 40 pounds? Yep, slow and steady, no fad diets, no pills, no slip ups." Then Kate describes how hard it is to be positive, how hard it is to not give up, and how hard it is to never feel like you have a break.

As a person who has been labeled obese my whole life, I look at the medical community that is trying to be empathetic and say, "I know this isn't what you want to hear," or "I know hard it is to cook healthy meals," and think in what flipping universe do you know what it is like to be me, a person who has never been thin? So, like Kate, I have walked out of doctor's visits wondering when is the universe going to cut me a break.

The Reason We Have a Kitten Is Because I'm So Sick of Poop!

Let's talk about poop. I know, everyone poops, right? There's even a book called, Everyone Poops by Taro Gomi. But, I am sick of dealing with poop. Apparently a common side effect of having ADHD and potty training is not being able to use the toilet consistently. So, although my daughter has been potty trained for quite some time, she has always struggled with pooping.

I blame myself, because I pushed her to potty train - but, the reality is that children with ADHD often struggle with potty training and she is no exception to this. She really struggles to end a task that she is engaged with and move to a less pleasant task like going to the toilet. So we've been through the addition of Miralax, Pedia-lax, prune juice, an increase in fruits and vegetables, and she still fought constipation.

We've been seeing the GI specialists since she was 3 - and for five years it didn't get a whole lot better. In June, I agreed to see the child psych clinic at the University of Iowa. Three visits later, we have a plan that is working - and a kitten.

I was desperate and a long-term bribe seemed like the way to go - so we set a goal of sitting on the toilet and attempting to poop to earn a trip to the animal shelter to pick out a kitten. I started out with a simple, achievable goal - one that already was happening - she had to sit on the toilet when she woke up and she would earn a check mark toward the addition of a kitten. The next two weeks would add in an additional time where she needed to sit on the toilet, and the last week would have a third time where she needed to sit on the toilet, but the resistance was strong! She is extremely stubborn - and she DID NOT WANT TO SIT ON THE TOILET. But she really wanted a kitten, and even that was not enough to get her to sit on the toilet consistently.

At our second child psych visit, the child psychologist showed us an enhanced toilet training technique: hold in your poop, play for 2 minutes, push out for 2 minutes. She also encouraged us to really focus on sitting on the toilet after dinner - since this is when our brain will most likely want to release the excess waste. It required a lot of my attention. It required coaxing, coaching, and being extremely positive about all of my daughter's attempts. But it worked!

In two weeks, one of extreme illness on my part, my daughter has only had one accident where she pooped her pants - and has not been constipated since she's pooped nearly everyday. I know that most parents of eight-year-olds do not have to worry about their child still having poop accidents, but if you are struggling with your child who has ADHD and using the toilet - please know that you're not alone and there is hope.

Princess Zoom Zoom

Introducing Princess Zoom Zoom - the newest addition to our family. She is a sweet 8 week old kitten that we adopted from the local animal shelter. The next post will explain the reason we adopted a kitten.

Pneumonia

Last week, I was diagnosed with bronchitis. This week I have pneumonia. I'm on day 4 of a very powerful antibiotic used specifically to treat pneumonia. I already had vacation planned for Thursday and Friday this week with no real vacation, but was hoping to do things like purge the clothes that don't fit anymore and work on my writing. My goal is that by June 30, 2019 I can launch a freelance writing career that actually pays close to or more than I currently bring home, but I will miss students. 

I hate disappointing my students, the schools I work with, and my colleagues - so I tried to power through the bronchitis on Monday. After 2.5 hours of teaching and having someone tell me that I sure didn't sound better, I called my doctor's office. I also left for the day taking my laptop with me knowing that I could at least respond to some emails while I was out if at all possible.

My doctor's office called me back and ordered a chest x-ray. I transported myself to the hospital and got the x-ray accomplished at 3:30 and right before 5 PM the doctor's office called me back and confirmed pneumonia. Thankfully, I was able to start the Levaquin immediately and was told to stay home Tuesday and Wednesday also. 

For those of you who have never had pneumonia, I hope you never get it. It makes the simplest tasks really hard to do. Things like standing in the shower took all my energy - and reading to my kids was a huge task. I made it through one book last night before I powered down my voice. It's incredibly hard to speak when you're fighting pneumonia. 

I'm glad to know that my children love listening to me read and that it is an important part of our nightly ritual, but I am equally as frustrated that they only want me! Their dad can read to them too, but mom does the voices. Mom says yes to reading the same story over and over and over - even when I don't want to.

Thankfully, I feel slightly better. I mean, I feel human again - but I won't be running a marathon anytime soon (and the reality is that I wouldn't have anyway).

My Story - The Reason I Am Pro-Choice- Part 3

This is part 3 of my pro-choice series. I again preface this with I am not here to change you from pro-life to pro-choice, but I am here to tell you my story - and why I believe the most critical decisions that you make regarding life and death should be between you and your doctor. You can read part 1 here and part 2 here.

There was nothing highly remarkable about my day on July 7th, 2012. It was a pretty low-key day where I was packing up my kitchen and preparing, in general, for our upcoming move. The move was scheduled for Friday, July 20th and my dad volunteered on that fateful Saturday to come help with maintenance and packing while my stepmom visited the outlet mall. I remember that it was sunny. I remember carefully climbing on the step-stool to hang up the curtains that I had washed. I remember taking breaks and resting before I felt like I was overdoing it. I remember feeling very normal for a woman thirty weeks pregnant. I don't remember exactly when my dad and stepmom left my house, but I remember being alone with the dog for the evening and retreating to bed.

My husband and daughter were at a family wedding with my husband's parents three hours away. I missed my daughter a great deal, but the wedding was in the evening - so I didn't get to say good night to her. I pulled on my blue and gray pajamas and crawled into bed about 9 PM. I may have read or watched TV, but I honestly don't recall exactly what I did that night before I fell asleep. I do remember that it was the middle of the night when I woke up feeling awful. The distance from my bed to the bathroom was not great, as it was only across the living room, but the pain that I felt was immense. I vomited. I had diarrhea. I had a massive pain in my upper right side - right under my breast and high in the rib cage. I focused on breathing - and made my way to the kitchen where I kept the blood pressure monitor.

My stepmom encouraged me to take blood pressure readings daily - and I did. I took them upon waking most mornings and for the most part, the readings weren't of concern - until June and that's when they started going up. That night I sat at the kitchen table, pulled the cuff on my wrist, and pushed the start button. The reading was high. It was so high I was scared, but I was alone. I said a silent prayer, "Please don't let anything happen to me. I know that I'm not a good Christian, but my daughter needs me. If the baby has to die, I will be okay, but my daughter needs me." I pleaded with God to keep me safe for the time being - and I needed to lie back down. So I did.

When I woke up, I was hoping that it had all been a bad dream. I hoped that I hadn't really woken up in the night and I just had a very real, very scary nightmare. But - I didn't. I had a very real, very intense night and knew that I should call Labor and Delivery to find out if they wanted to see me. The call went something like this, "Labor and Delivery, may I help you?"

"I am not feeling the baby move as much and I am having some problems with my vision."

"If you're concerned, you can come in and we can hook the monitor up to you." The woman on the other end had no concern at all in her voice. It was matter-of-fact. It made me feel like I was overreacting. I did not rush in getting to the hospital, but I also did not wait for my husband and daughter to get home.

I simply said, "Okay." I had no one to take me to the hospital. Everyone that I knew was either gone for the weekend, had kids at home that couldn't be left, or had a high probability of not being sober. I drove to the convenience store and got a Gatorade. It was fruit punch flavored. Then I drove myself to the hospital. I took the back road. It went straight to the hospital. There is no way I should have driven myself though.

Upon arrival, I was escorted to a triage room. The triage room was at the end of the labor and delivery unit and I remember that it was dark. There were no windows in that room. I texted my husband, but he never responded. So I texted his mom and let her know what was happening. I arrived at the hospital about 12:30 PM. By 1:30 PM, my husband, his parents, and my daughter came to visit me. I remember the technician getting irritated with me because I used the bathroom 4 times in the hour, but I don't remember saying good-bye to my husband, daughter, or in-laws. I just remember darkness.

In part 4, I will continue the birth story of my son.