Jeannie
Business As Usual
Colin went back to work today after his 6 week break used to help me recover. This was the reception he received when he arrived at his desk:
195 balloons and a note that said, “Welcome Back, Colin.” I’m sure the contributors were especially appreciative of the box of doughnuts he brought in as a token of thanks for being so understanding about his time away.
I went back to work again, too, as “Full-time Mom.” My reception was slightly different:
Runny noses multiplied by 3 all day long. Plus I caught the virus that has passed through all the kids. But I can’t complain too much. I feel pretty good as far as the surgery recovery goes. No more pain, just slight discomfort and tenderness at the incision site. My doctor’s visit confirmed that all is going well. I got the “all clear” to resume my life. I can now lift to my heart’s content.
It was so great to pick up my children again. I missed holding them so much. Bed rest was alright, on a purely selfish level– I got many projects done that would otherwise have been hard to do. But really, I like my full time job. It’s good to be back.
Now to kick this crummy cold…
Post-Op Notes
- Prior to surgery, I was told I wouldn’t be able to lift anything over 20 pounds for the entire 6 weeks. That was every one of my four children. What was I going to do? Colin starting saving vacation days as soon as we thought surgery might be a possibility. He saved so much that he is able to be home for the majority of my recovery. What an incredible blessing.
- Jared and Laura volunteered (how amazing are they??) to come all the way out from Boston and help for the first week and a half. We could not have survived without them. They did everything and were so gracious. Plus our kids got some cousin time, which was invaluable.
- It has been ridiculously hard to just sit and watch life roll by. The chaos of my household wails on while my butt is planted on our comfortable but ugly couch. I know it’s what I need to do to heal, but that doesn’t make it any easier. But I’ve read a few really good books and caught up on this blog, so I guess there’s something to be said for being relieved of everyday duties.
- Not being able to hold my kids is just sad. Maddie asks me everyday if I’m all better yet. I try to hold them in an awkward lean, their feet on the cushion next to me as their arms wrap around my neck. I miss snuggling them on my lap.
- Friends from church stepped in and have provided huge support. Dinners, rides for Warren to and from school, picking up Maddie for a fun outing during the day, letting Warren come over to play for a few hours…. the list of people and the service rendered is too long to name here. I am overwhelmed with gratitude. A special thanks to Lyndsi for arranging most of it.
- I’m so grateful for family and friends who have expressed their love and well-wishes over the past few weeks. Their support has really strengthened me. I haven’t had too many moments of feeling down, but when they’ve come I’ve leaned on these people that I know care deeply. It’s meant the world.
Endometriosis, Ovarian Cysts, and Other Fun Adventures in Gynecology
{Warning: this is a post that may make some (i.e. male readers) feel a bit uncomfortable. I try not to give too much information, but if talk of “woman times” or “lady parts” scares you at all, you may want to skip this one.}
When I was 21 years old, I stood in the parking lot of a movie theater and cried in a huddle with my two best girl friends from high school. I had just learned that I had endometriosis. For those of you not familiar with this lovely disease, it means the endometrial tissue from the uterus (similar to what is normally shed through menstruation) spreads through the pelvic cavity and attaches itself to various parts of the body. Though the affects of the disease vary from woman to woman, I was told to expect complications in becoming pregnant and possible infertility. Coupled with the excruciating pain of my first ovarian cyst (which led to the discovery of this diagnosis), it was a tough blow.
After a few months of processing and grieving, I went forward with the knowledge that my road to motherhood would be unpredictable, as would my experience with pain.
Fast forward 15 years later. Indeed, I found that I was infertile, though it hadn’t stopped me from becoming a mother to four beautiful children thanks to the blessings of adoption. After 8 years of marriage, we actually did see a specialist who confirmed that it would take a miracle (even with $20,000 a pop in vitro fertilization) to make infertility treatments work so we said no thank you. He also told me that, at my age, my eggs were old anyway, but I digress. Despite this, one of the sweetest memories of that consultation visit was my little Warren asking if the doctor had fixed me so that I could have babies. Life’s mysteries too hard for a toddler (and sometimes adults) to grasp. But I was at peace knowing that I would never get pregnant.
Ultimately, it wasn’t the infertility that was the most problematic part of this disease. It was the pain.
Last November, I started really hurting. After all these years of riding the roller coaster of pain, sometimes tolerable, sometimes debilitating, I was used to discomfort. But these recent experiences told me I was beyond the typical aggravated cramping associated with gnarly endometriosis periods. I was in full-blown pain. It was so severe that, when it came, I couldn’t even continue the task I was on but had to double over and wait for the sharp, stabbing sensation to go away. Worst of all, it was sporadic so I never knew when it was going to hit. Something bad was going on. And I hated the idea of dealing with it.
But I was good and went in to visit my specialist gynecologist only after a couple of months of this– better than my usual track record. After some testing, which included an ultrasound requiring a completely and painfully full bladder (I wasn’t sure if I would make it to the exam room without wetting the waiting room carpet, it was so horrible), the results indicated that I had another endometrioma (ovarian cyst) on my right ovary. The trouble was the excruciating pain was on my left side.
That meant the endometrial tissue had most likely attached itself to other unsavory parts, probably my intestines. Time to form a plan of action.
Dr. “Old Eggs” and I had history and I trusted his straightforward, if blunt, recommendations. He laid it out this way. I had two options: 1) continual birth control for years and years (most likely until menopause) to suppress my period, reducing symptoms and possibly shrinking the cyst, or 2) a hysterectomy. His reasoning was that just removing the cyst was like slapping a band-aid on the problem. I would only grow more cysts. Taking the hormones would be the first and least invasive step we should take. Undergoing a hysterectomy would be the last resort, but what I would eventually have to face.
I agreed, even though my past experiences with birth control left me feeling like a witch on her broom at best thanks to the highs and lows of increased estrogen. What did I have to lose?
I tried this for 8 months. It helped alright. The pain was less intense and less frequent, but it was still there. I still felt the impact on my life. Like wanting to accomplish things but never really feeling good enough to try. I felt like I was just limping along each day. It’s hardly the way you want to live, especially with four small children.
Finally, after much research and fasting and prayer, I decided that I didn’t want to put off the inevitable any longer. I decided to have the hysterectomy. It wouldn’t necessarily cure the problem, but it would help more than any option I had.
On January 3rd, I checked into the hospital at 5AM and underwent the 2 hour surgery. I’m 4 weeks into my 6 week recovery and doing fine. It’s still painful to sneeze and I don’t move around very well yet, but each day is better. I can’t lift anything over 20 lbs. for the entire recovery, so that’s made accepting help from others absolutely necessary. It’s been humbling all around.
There were moments before my surgery when I would freak out wondering how my body would react. Would it end my pain? Would he need to remove both ovaries? Would I need hormone replacement therapy? Would taking that put me back on my broom? But I had to remember that I had received a comforting answer through prayer. It would be alright. I had to trust in that and go forward.
He did remove both my ovaries after all. It was a game-day decision that became obvious was necessary after finding that both of them were covered in cysts and tissue, not to mention the muscles of my uterus were also lined with the stuff. The part that touches my bladder and colon were also affected. “No wonder you’re in pain,” confirmed Dr. “Old Eggs” who was also the surgeon. It was a relief to get it out.
So far, so good on the progesterone replacement. No hot flashes, like he expected. I feel good, overall. Now I just need to get over this surgery pain.
What a journey. I’m glad it’s over, or at least so it appears at this point. It’s certainly not the road I ever thought I’d be on, but it’s been enlightening, nonetheless. I feel blessed for the guidance I received in making this decision. And I’m grateful for modern medicine that can alleviate my pain.
Cinnamon Roll Making Day
We spent a wonderful day down with our “extended family,” friends that I have loved for years and years and years. Julianna’s sisters (Tara and Wendy), Wendy’s son’s (Ashton and Aiden), and her mom and dad (Sharon and Robert) all came down from Utah to be with Julianna’s family for Christmas celebrations. If Julianna is my pseudo sister, that makes Sharon my second mother and all the rest pseudo-relations, as well. And that’s just how I think of them. It was one big, happy reunion.
The time was spent eating, and chatting, and catching up. All of the kids had a good time together. Laura was a great helper with all the younger ones, especially with Jake.
The day unfolded without any planning or particular agenda, other than to consume chocolate in all its various forms.
We had an indoor picnic.
Some spent most of the day hard at work…
While others were hard at play.
Then Julianna decided to take advantage of her mother’s fantastic cooking and baking skills and enlist her in a cinnamon roll making tutorial. Recently receiving this KitchenAid from generous sister Wendy helped seal the deal.
It had to be properly broken in. Plus, what was she to do about those pregnancy cravings?
I documented the experience.
We’re always laughing. Always. Didn’t you know baking was funny?
The tried and true method for cutting the dough: using thread. Way better than using a knife.
They are phenomenally good! Better than Cinnabon, I promise you!
I think I discovered the beginning of my holiday decorating obsession. It all started in 1st grade with Mrs. Fugate’s tissue paper projects. This is Julianna’s that she (like the rest of us) labored over, rolling each square of tissue paper into a tiny ball and then gluing it just right onto the particular pattern. Hundreds of tissue balls later, you had yourself a Santa or an angel tree topper. Somewhere, in my parents’ garage most likely, is my own Santa creation that looks similar to hers below.
Speaking of decorations, check out this cute Snoopy gingerbread house Julianna’s kids decorated. One of 5 Peanuts-themed houses they made. Adorable.
Aunt Tara and Aunt Wendy met Jake and Joe for the first time. There was mutual love.
After a great day of baking and eating and laughing, I was reminded how blessed I am to know this family. They are wonderful people that I love dearly. I’m glad I got to grow up with them. And I’m grateful that my kids get to now, too.
The Flurry of Christmas Day
Christmas was a bit hectic this year since it fell on a Sunday. And though we had plenty of time to get ready for church since it didn’t start until 1PM, it meant we actually had to get out of our jammies and stick to a schedule. Then we had to come home and prepare Christmas dinner. But it was nice to celebrate the Savior’s birth on the Sabbath and partake of the Sacrament on this special day.
The day whizzed by but we did enjoy the excitement the kids felt seeing their “Santa” gifts and digging in to all the sweets, goodies, and food that make this holiday so joyous.
Stockings are always stuffed with one small toy, sugar cereal, goldfish crackers, “cuties” oranges, chocolate of some sort, and candy canes. Maddie had consumed most of the candies before breakfast even started. The rest of us paced ourselves, especially since we needed to save room for our healthful lunch of cinnamon and orange rolls.
Even though Maddie asked for “pink” as her sole Christmas present, we went outside the box and got her something we knew she’d love: Darth Vader. It’s really a gumball machine (don’t tell!) but she just enjoys pushing the button to hear his infamous breathing sound.
Of the many things Warren wished for this year, we decided on the art kit and “how to draw” books. He set to work right away and created some awesome drawings. He even got his requested emergency candles in his stocking.
All of that sugar consumption must have gone to her stomach because after awhile we found Maddie hiding behind the couch. She said her belly hurt. She just needed a breather. She came out some time later ready for more.
Getting ready for church is always stressful. It’s even worse when there is the distraction of new toys and candy. Somehow we made it out the door, and on time even.
We had so much food. Truly, we are blessed and have all that we need and then some. We ended the day with a roast beef dinner, complete with potatoes gratin, salad, and coconut cake.
Our Christmas was indeed Merry and Bright.
Viewing the Christmas Lights
We decided to take the kids for a drive around Santa Barbara to see some Christmas lights. There is even a website that gives you a whole route to take, complete with directions of where and when to turn. (Thanks for the tip, MK!) It’s the same path that the touring trolley cars take. It sounded like a great activity for the Christmas season.
There is only one word that can be used to describe our evening of Christmas light viewing: BUST!
And it wasn’t because there was anything wrong with the route or that the traffic was out of hand. No. It was because our children either a) fell asleep or b) complained the entire trip. Specifically, the three youngest nodded off before we even made it off the freeway exit and the oldest whined about every single thing.
Maybe we set the stage wrong, I don’t know. All I know is that from the moment we turned on to State Street and the start of the route, Warren began complaining.
“What is this we’re listening to?” he grumbled from the back, even as the brightly lit store displays and decorative stars over the street lamps gleamed outside the car window. The Christmas c.d. had just switched to a comedic story we enjoy hearing once a year, “Polly Anderson’s Christmas Party.” Perhaps he was expecting “Frosty the Snowman” and was greatly disappointed to hear a Canadian accent instead.
After the fourth time whining to know when it would be over, I turned around in irritation.
“Warren, we’re here to see the lights. Your sister and brothers are asleep. That means this is all for you now. If you’re not enjoying the drive and happy to see the lights then we’re going to go home,” I told him sternly. His half-hearted okay led me to believe that his bad attitude would reappear shortly.
Unfortunately, I was right. We continued on the path and made it to the second neighborhood of many participating houses when he piped in once again.
“I’m bored!” he announced in a surly, Grinchy tone.
I took one last terrible picture of a lighted house (photographing in low lighting from a moving vehicle has too many limitations, even with a good camera) and told Colin to turn that car around. We were going home.
As soon as we stated that we were done and heading back, he let out a wail. And then he kept wailing all the way home.
“I want to go back! Let’s go back! We didn’t see enough lights! Please! Please! Let’s see more lights! We have to see more lights!” he cried in outrage.
In our 20 minute drive home I went from supreme irritation to disappointment to sympathy. In the end, I just felt bad for him. Sometimes it’s hard to be a kid. You just don’t know what you want or how to express it and when you do get what you want sometimes it’s overwhelming to handle.
Too much excitement? Too much stimulation? Too much sugar throughout the day? I don’t know what happened with Warren, but I do know that he deeply regretted his choice of attitude. Maybe next time he’ll think before he complains. At least when it comes to Christmas lights.
And maybe next year, more of our children will actually be awake for this outing.
“I Got a Nikon Camera…”
“I love to take a photograph.”
That’s the Paul Simon song that I’ve had in my head ever since we purchased this little beauty (an early Christmas present):
The Nikon D5100. I’m in love. Now you will see random, meaningless pictures show up on blog posts just because I’m practicing. Like this one:
It’s the handle of the orange tree planter we inherited from friends that just moved to Utah. (Thanks again, Nicole and Ryan! We miss you guys.)
Needless to say, I have much to learn about this camera. But I can’t wait to get started.
“Mama don’t take my Kodachrome away…”
{Hopefully, the song is sufficiently stuck in your head now, too.}
P.S. A special shout out of thanks to Mary Karlee for babysitting at the last minute so we could go buy this new toy and go see a movie at the theater!
How the Marathon Passed Me By
Ten months ago I set the goal to run the Santa Barbara Marathon. That’s 26.2 miles, folks, that I was hoping to conquer. Those of you who know me and my history with the sport know it’s quite the leap from my last race completion. But running this distance became a “bucket list” item that I dreamed of completing, just because it is so difficult. I could have set my sights on the half marathon, to start, but why not just go for it, right?
A national organization dedicated to fundraising for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society called Team in Training caught my attention last spring, thanks to another parent in Warren’s kindergarten class, and inspired me to persue my goal. They train you completely and you collect donations for cancer research. It’s win-win in my book.
The Santa Barbara Marathon is perfect because not only do I live here, making it pretty easy to show up, but it’s also held on Saturday, unlike so many others which would require me to break the Sabbath to enter.
I was excited at the prospect of obtaining a goal that, 2 years ago even, I would have never had the guts to set. I told friends and family that I was going to do it. Everyone encouraged me and I felt like it was something within my grasp.
The race was yesterday and I did not run.
I didn’t even train. Because of some serious health issues (explanatory post to follow), I never felt up to running or really any exercise at all. For the last 7 months I have watched the calendar flip forward knowing that I would not be able to do what I said I was going to do.
And that’s the worst part. If I had never even mentioned it to anyone, I may have let it go and not felt like such a failure. But since I opened my mouth and told the world my plans, I felt like the girl who is all talk and no action. The one who says she’s going to do something and then just doesn’t.
That’s what I felt this past week each time I drove by the road signs reminding the community of the upcoming event. Just a big orange sign screaming at me that I did not complete what I said I’d do.
In the end I know it’s not my fault. I know I’m being a bit harsh. My health has taken the goal right out of my hands, at least for the time being. I have to keep reminding myself that it’s just my life circumstances at this moment. Hopefully, it won’t be forever. I want to believe I’ll try for it another time.
I had several friends that ran the marathon and half marathon yesterday, some for the first time. I thought about them many times throughout the morning, wondering how they were feeling and hoping they were completing the race they way they had planned. They all finished, and I couldn’t be happier for each one.
Way to go Rebecca, Esther, Nicole, Annie, and Cherry!! I wish I could have ran there with you. (Well, behind you, really, because I would have never been able to keep your pace!) But I was with you in spirit, I promise.
The Art of Storytelling
Warren and I went on a mother-son date. I love these opportunities to be one-on-one with this funny kid who loves to talk. We stopped at Starbucks and grabbed a hot chocolate (complete with whipped cream and mini chocolate chips) and a caramel apple cider and then headed to the local public library for a storyteller’s rendition of The Adventures of Pinocchio.
Warren and I sat on the floor together among the throng of wiggly children as we watched the performer’s rendition of the classic version of the story. We were all captivated by his grand, animated gestures and silly voices. He was hilarious and knew how to work the audience.
I love that we went to this event. Warren and I had a great time together. We were happy to support this form of entertainment. The library is wise to provide the opportunities.
Storytelling is an underappreciated art form. As the storyteller stated, no one is still enough to listen anymore. We’re all so distracted by so many media that we aren’t able to pay attention to a story. Such a shame because a good storyteller is almost magical to hear.
At the close of his performance, he mentioned a website I’d never heard of before that has free stories for all ages told by professional storytellers. Plus, he has his own weekly Saturday morning radio show at 7:30AM (Pacific) that you can hear online. I have yet to check out either one but at least I know that there are some interesting options, that don’t involve television, when the kids are looking for something to do.
Halloween Additions
You’d think the need to add to my Halloween collection would decrease at some point. You’d be wrong.
But I did much better at controlling the addiction this year. I actually stayed clear of Michael’s this time, so I’d call that an improvement. Some items that I added were really tacked on to the end of last Halloween, and (by generous donation) at no cost to me. So you can’t come down too hard on me.
For instance, Julianna’s sister, Tara, has a delightful boutique that carries all kinds of treasures, including Halloween decor items. This spiderweb chandelier is just one of the many fun things you can find in her shop.
This haunted house table runner, with glow-in-the-dark polka dots, no less, was another piece that Julianna so graciously passed on to me.
{Thanks again, Jules. Love them both!}
But there were some DIY decor items that I felt compelled to create. I added these potions/specimen jars to the apothecary display.
I used some empty food jars lying around the house, added drugstore-purchased plastic bugs and skulls, as well as some things found in nature, and poured in water tinted by food coloring. Nice and creepy. I thought about adding some descriptive labels for authenticity, but I didn’t want to be tied down to a certain item per jar. Each year might bring something different to display.
I wanted to add some subway art to my faux mantle, so I created this Boo! print, which you can download here as a 4×6.
And I found this cute poem on Pinterest.com:
We also put some cut out jack-o-lantern faces on the windows facing the street.
Plus some ghosts in a graveyard, also made out of paper. It’s always fun to come up with some silly epitaph to complete the look.
Very fun, all of it. I’m sure I’ll have more to add next year.
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