Taking Care of Yourself

I haven't been this sick since the first year that I taught. I have my first-ever case of bronchitis and I haven't felt 100% since I can't remember when. In the last two weeks, my respiratory health has gotten worse and I am finally on antibiotics to help with the bronchitis now - and I stayed home today. I feel guilty every time I take a sick day. I was conditioned that you don't miss work unless you have a fever, but when you never run a fever, it's hard to make that case.

I can't remember when the last time was that I felt 100%, because I've been seeing spots in my vision. They stay in relatively the same area of my eye and don't generally grow or shrink. They've been there so long that I make note of it and move on. But, this week, I saw neuro-ophthalmology at the University of Iowa. My optic nerve is swollen.

There really wasn't more that they could tell me - other than my optic nerve is swollen and I will need an MRI and an additional test. Apparently there are lots of reasons that an optic nerve can swell, but the doctors that I saw really didn't elaborate on what it could be. They said sometimes it can be as a result of weight gain - but, I've lost weight. In fact, I've lost about 25 pounds since the beginning of 2018. To anyone else that sounds like a ton of weight. I feel like it means nothing.

I whisper that I've lost 25 pounds. I should be shouting that I've lost 25 pounds, but I feel like it's invisible because I need to lose about another 100 and I will still be in the obese category, but I will be comfortable at that weight. The doctors asked what I did to lose the weight. I said a variety of things. I joined Noom. I read The Slight Edge. I purged my basement. I started meditating with Calm. I focused on my mental health more than my physical health and that has produced the greatest results with my weight loss. Sure, the stars aligning to make sure that everything I did aligned perfectly helped greatly to get me started.

I got started on a journey to take better care of myself, but I have had a slip on the journey. I still journal and meditate everyday, but my use of #theslightedge and being a #noomnerd is not thriving right now. I want to live in the important, but not urgent quadrant of Steven Covey's 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. I want to make sure that I am eating well and exercising, meditating and journaling. I want to take better care of myself, but the first step in doing so is to acknowledge that sometimes you have to give yourself permission to rest. You have to give yourself permission to be okay with the circumstances life throws at you. You have to give yourself permission to be human - even if that means that you spend a day on the couch resting.

My Confession

Before I share the most horrifying thing that I've ever thought, let me be clear - it was a THOUGHT - not an action. It was a horrible thought at a horrible time in my life and yet one of the BEST things came out of it.

The birth story of my son is one where nearly everything that could go wrong did go wrong - and not just the birth - a lot of things happened in the 6 months after his birth that made it the hardest year of my life.

To start, my son's pregnancy started out with every indication that it wouldn't last. I was a lucky (or not so lucky) woman that had continuous bleeding for the first 16 weeks of the pregnancy. With the miscarriages before my daughter and the one in between my children, I was prepared to lose my son too. When we got to the 24 week viability, I breathed a sigh of relief and carefully scheduled out all my prenatal visits to not interfere with our upcoming move.

I planned to take some time off to be with my daughter right before the 4th of July so that we could participate in swim lessons at the local pool. She had an ear infection and couldn't take the class - but they refunded our money, so we just had some bonding time instead. Then she and and her dad were going to go to a family wedding while I stayed behind to pack.

When my husband and my daughter left for the wedding, I felt well. I had planned what items I could pack up, what items I needed to leave behind, and what items really needed to be thrown away. My dad and stepmom came over and we did things like wash the curtains and hang them back up to dry. There was absolutely no indication that my life would topple in the middle of the night on July 8th, 2012. But - when I woke up, I felt horrible. I had every single symptom of pre-eclampsia. My stepmom and dad had given me a blood pressure monitor - and my numbers skyrocketed. I can't remember the numbers for sure, but I am thinking in the range of 189/120. The pain in my upper right abdomen was awful and my vision suffered. When I called the hospital to see if I should go in, they said, "If you're worried, we can hook you up to the monitor." It was matter-of-fact, no emotion.

I was struggling at this point to figure out how in the world I could love someone as much as I loved my daughter. My thoughts on going to the hospital weren't whether or not the baby growing inside me would survive, but whether I would survive to be there for my daughter.

Once at the hospital, the monitors hooked up, and the baby moving, I got admitted. Indefinitely. My blood pressure wasn't going down and there was absolutely no way that this baby would be born term. In fact, he was born at 30 weeks and 5 days. Two days shy of being able to hold him right away.

The list of things that went wrong with his birth included having pre-eclampsia, my placenta abrupting, my baby not only wrapping the cord around his neck, but also tying a knot in it, and being born 10 weeks before his due date. To quote the doctor, "The baby needed to be born - for both your sake."

The birth story is horrifying, right? But that's not even the worst part of this six month period of time! The worst part was the postpartum depression (PPD) that I still deal with to this day. My PPD started early after delivery. I don't remember much of the first day of my son's life because he was not near me, but I remember anger. I remember rage. I remember sadness. I remember thinking, "maybe I should just use the Safe Haven law," which is the biggest confession that I have. I almost walked away from my baby boy.

Loss

This week, we lost our kitty. He was seven and I had been trusted to care for him by a friend when she could no longer give both of her kitties a good home because he was bullying his sister. Zeus was a cuddly feline at about 9 PM at night and he only bonded well with me and to a certain extent my daughter.

Since this wasn't our first experience with death, it was not too hard to let the kids know when they woke up yesterday morning that Zeus had passed away overnight. My son reacted by blaming his sister (how much brotherly love can one show?). My daughter reacted by saying that she wouldn't talk very much yesterday because she was sad. Then she went on to tell me about her art teacher's goats that had also passed away. 

Zeus is now at peace, which tends to be how I view death. I do mourn the loss of my kitty. I do mourn the loss of my best friend. I do mourn the loss of my grandparents. But I think of the quality of life they had at the end of their lives and I don't mourn their peace. I rejoice that they are no longer suffering. I rejoice that they can no longer have earthly pain. I rejoice in the memories I have shared with them. 

Bravery

Do you ever feel brave? I sure don't. I like things to be stable. I prefer when things are easy. I don't like confrontation. I don't like to admit when I am scared, overwhelmed, or uncertain. There are few people that I confide these things to - and I miss one of the bravest people that I have ever known fiercely.

Last weekend, my family and I went to the play Kazoo by a local playwright, Matt Falduto. The main character loses her mom and the story is about her best friends being there for her and helping her choose the bravery of living. I didn't lose my mom - I lost one of my best friends. She was brave. She fought cancer with a positive attitude, accepted everything that happened, and finally was free of suffering by passing on, but that left an emptiness in me, our circle of friends, and her family that will never be fully gone.

She was brave because she never stopped living. She was brave because she kept living even when she knew the cancer would win. She was brave because she admitted to her doctor that she was sad and crying a lot. She was brave because she asked for help when she needed rides to her appointments. She was brave because she called her close friends and family and said, "I have cancer." She was brave because she fought not one type of cancer, but two types. She was brave because she asked for prayers. She was brave for so many reasons and I want to be brave like she was, but I sure don't feel brave.

I am not fighting cancer. I don't have to be that brave. I need to make some life decisions that require bravery though. I want to be brave enough to quit my job and launch a full-time writing career. I want to be brave enough to not have a steady income. I want to live more courageously. I want to be brave.

Super Skate

I used to skate ALL. THE. TIME. I was never talented enough to skate backwards, but my mom would drop me off on a Saturday afternoon and I would spend the afternoon at the skating rink while she corralled my sister. Then the skating rink closed - and there was nowhere to skate nearby, so I hadn't found myself on skates for more than two decades when I bravely put them on last spring. It's like riding a bike - you may have a few tumbles, but you once you get going, it's second nature.

Remember my persistent daughter - she gets her persistence from her dad - and she nagged all day long to go skating. She did everything I asked her to with minimal complaint and she survived not being able to go to her brother's make up gymnastics class - so I decided that I could take both kids skating tonight. I had never been to the skating rink Super Skate in Cedar Rapids prior to tonight, but both of my kids had been there with daycare.

I knew that I expected an older skating rink, but I didn't expect to have wonderful customer service and a few songs that I actually knew - but none that date back to the Skateland days in Ottumwa. I chose not to skate tonight so that I could do some writing, do some applying to different jobs, and let my children exercise some independence.

Once I got my kids' skates laced up, I sent them out to practice skating. I knew that the snacking question would undoubtedly be asked, so I was proactive and ordered drinks and a cheese pizza for us. When I ordered, the staff were so kind and exceptional at their job. They made me feel welcome. The gesture of turning the menu so I "didn't have to read it sideways." Having a permanent marker to put my name on the lid of my cup, and their smiles made me feel welcome.

Their friendliness was very kind, very genuine - and maybe it's because I look like a tired mother who is just trying to provide some activity for her children, but it was so nice to be at a venue where the customer interaction was of a genuine nature.

I am happy to say that we now have another indoor activity that we can do as a family for the winter and the customer service is exceptional.

Books and Authors

My son says, "By Victoria and Pllbth Kann."

Then I say, "What about Pinkalicious?"

He laughs and then asks, "Mom, who wrote Silly Sally?"

I say, "I think it is written by Audrey Wood."

"What about the Gingerbread Man?"

Okay, kid, now you're stumping mom. I say, "I think it's an Aesop's fable, but I really don't know."

I am proud of him. I am glad that he is recognizing the author as an important part of the story. We talk about the title page, the author and illustrator. He enjoys reading and playing. All of his dramatic play tells a story.

This morning, while I was off doing my own thing, he was off building all the islands and headquarters for Inside Out out of Legos. He plays hard, but when it was time to clean up - he did not want to put the blocks away. I cleared off a shelf so that he can proudly display his masterpiece.

Now, if I could just capture all the wonderful stories he tells me and the emphasis that he puts on the words at exactly the right time, I would have a delightful arrangement of stories to bring humor and warmth to everyone.

Grocery Store Nightmares

It's after school and work on a Friday afternoon and I need to make a fast trip to the grocery store so that we can have something for dinner. I decide to pick up my children and let them go with me. Once there, I realize how big of a mistake this turns out to be.

By five o'clock the stimulant medication for ADHD is long gone and my daughter is ready to dart across a busy parking lot and plow a cart through the store. My son often follows his sister's lead, but thankfully pauses and waits for me to give him the signal to cross the parking lot.

I just want to get soup - just the kind that you pop in the microwave and drink directly from the cup. Near the soup is spaghetti-o's and macaroni. My son wants spaghetti-o's, until he sees the Trolls Easy Mac. My daughter has no desire for anything in this aisle. She wants a Lunchable. We go past chips, desserts ("Marshmallows!"), sunglasses from the Claire's display ("I just want to look at the pretty sunglasses"), bath bombs ("Put that back! We're not getting one"), and finally get to the aisle with the Lunchables. She hates bread - but chooses one with a sandwich. I point this out and she chooses nachos instead.

I'm frustrated at this point. As we work our way back to the front of the store, we see the bins filled with treats of special deals and my daughter pipes up and says, "Can I get a gift for Ms. T? She's so nice and I want to show her that she's special." I say no to the ridiculous requests that make no sense (dog food?), but I let her put an extra box of popcorn in the cart for her teacher and her brother's teacher.

We stand in line. There's something to touch everywhere around us. I give my daughter the directive to unload the cart on to the conveyor belt. Finally, it's our turn to check out and the cashier asks, "How are you doing today?"

I respond with, "I'm wishing I would've just left my children at daycare." As I am taking care of the business transaction, my daughter is right there asking for a sticker or a sucker. She knows the drill - and kindly includes her brother.

In my mind, picking the kids up and taking them with me to do the errands was a way to include them in some of the day-to-day activities of life. However, in reality, I think I'll just leave my kids at daycare next time.