Whoever said they had nothing to write about when things were good, but had much to say when things were heading South, was spot on. I can’t seem to shut myself up over here.
Not that anything has changed since the last time I wrote. I still have to go into the office tomorrow and make my way to out-patient surgery on Thursday. The closer I get to these dates and times the stranger my thoughts become. I wonder more about this prep work I have to have done tomorrow. I even googled it this morning hoping for clearer answers.
And then, I RAN AS FAST AS I COULD away from those sites that provided too much and the wrong kind of information. *Fingers in ears* LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA.
Clearly I will get everything answered when I see my doctor tomorrow, but since I can’t move on till I get passed this part, this part becomes bigger and bigger the closer it gets here. But in the same breath I feel somewhat numb and focused and can sail through this part rather *well*. Maybe I’m just all over the place and have no idea what I am feeling. And I am assuming this is all par for the course.
I haven’t been “put under” since the age of 19. Being knocked out isn’t my forte. (Not that everybody else LOVES it.) I am not good with losing control and have things happen to me when I have no concept of reality. So, this type of thing I’m trying to stay numb for. Not really thinking about the obvious, the inevitable.
I’ve had great people tell me their related experiences and it’s helped so so much. I have an amazing family that will be here for me when I need them this week. And I have adoring close friends who will help me out in a heartbeat if I need them. I’m surrounded by support and yet I feel quite lonely at the same time.
It’s the nature of the beast, I guess.
I have no idea why the title of this song popped into my head on the way home from the doctor’s office, but if I think about it for a minute I realize this is just how.it.goes. There are ups and there are downs and there are some things that just aren’t meant to be.
And this is where we sit right now.
What was supposed to be, really never was. It made it all the way to six weeks before it grew no longer. I was told this was the plan from the very beginning. There is nothing we did or did not do to make this happen. It was the path it was made to take from way back when.
Those words were comforting to hear. There truly was nothing that could have been done. It was out of our hands the entire way. I can take solace in that. I can fall asleep on that assumption. I can breathe a sigh of relief knowing that my doctor believes we can have as many children as we want.
I told him we’d see him this summer, feeling more optimistic than not.
Then, I backtracked realizing I’d see him on Wednesday for prep, then Thursday for the procedure.
At least there’s a Hot Tub Time Machine with my name on it and a big FAT ASS Corona waiting for me on the other side. Now that is reason to celebrate.
Simple pleasures. simple pleasures.
If anyone had been around me yesterday, they would have wondered where in the hell did Mel go and who was this person in her place? I mean, it was that bad.
First off, I didn’t have anywhere to be yesterday morning. That was the first problem. Usually on Tuesday mornings I go to the gym with a girlfriend of mine, but she was unable to go, so I decided to stay home in the morning and head out to the gym after nap time.
I didn’t give IN to the kids. I didn’t get down with them and just be. Those times, the times I don’t let my hair down, I fight the system the entire day. Of course I have things on my mind. Of course it’s ok to be distracted, irritated and irrational, but I don’t WANT to be. I want to have nothing to think about, to just go about my day like I did early last week, before the news, before the drama.
Hubs left for a short trip yesterday as well. That first day seems the most overwhelming. For the most part, flying solo with the kids isn’t that big of a deal. It’s pretty much the same job, minus some extra hands for a couple hours a day. I think it’s just the vulnerability of it all. Being the only one in charge. It can get to you sometimes. And with this added layer of “the unknown” I find myself trying to stay distracted.
I’m just not really present, I guess. Numb would be a good word. I think that is my way of coping. Not going there unless I have to. That’s why I have already gone to the dark side, assuming everything is wrong since it seemed so wrong last week. Can’t have hope in my current situation. Just can’t live in the “maybes.” It’s just torture.
I can hope for the future, set my sights on the future, what will be, can be. That brings me back to the present. That’s what allows me to get back on the floor and just BE.
Now, if I can just catapult myself to next week, all will be fine.
“I don’t want anyone to know. I feel like I failed. I know it had nothing to do with me, but I’m ashamed. Nothing has even happened yet, but I feel so empty.
I told everyone. Well, everyone I could get my hands on. I wanted to celebrate what everyone else celebrates and not be consumed with worry for 8 long weeks. And this is what I get, everything blown back in my face. I want to scream, “WHY ME?” “AGAIN?!” I learned the first time, life is so precious, we don’t have control of most things, appreciate what you have. all of the above. believe me, I’ve learned.
It’s not like it’s been easy on others. We all, in some way or another, have had struggles, losses, hardships, but this was our time. Our time to grow our family. And now, we have another reminder of what we’ve lost. And it sucks. I’m sitting here waiting for the worst to happen, so I don’t have to go in and have it taken care of by someone else. This period of time, the waiting, is the worst. Dealing with something after it happened seemed much easier than wondering when something is going to happen. I’ve been there.”
This is what I wrote on Wednesday. The day we found out our baby-to-be is probably not.
While we have been enjoying celebrating the boys’ birthdays as of late, (can’t believe they are already TWO and FIVE) we are also dealing with some sad news. As of Wednesday, I went in for our first ultrasound at 8 weeks with our latest kiddo on the way. Everything seemed to be fine, but the u/s showed a slower heartbeat and a baby not the size of an 8 week gestation.
My doctor said we should wait and see what the next u/s shows us next Friday, (9 days later) maybe we are off on our dates, but I know all to well what our dates are and my blood work was spot on from my last draw in the 6th week. So, I am pretty much of the mindset this isn’t going to work out. We are very grateful knowing this now rather than much later down the road, but it doesn’t make us feel better about our current situation.
Currently, we are *hoping* (if you could ever hope for this) for nature to takes its course before. Otherwise, I’d have to go in for a D & C. I am not sure we can keep that from happening since nothing has happened to me thus far.
We’re going to be ok, and try again as soon as we can. Until then, we just have to wait, which, I believe, and can now tell you, is the hardest part.
Last Fall, I wrote about Hola popping out his elbow while we were in Oklahoma visiting my family. Well, while visiting hub’s parents in Carmel over the weekend, Hola did it again. And this time, he did it all by himself.
He was reaching up on top of the dresser for Rt’s Leapster when hubs stepped in and tooked the game away. (It’s not his game, but that just means he wants it EVEN MORE. ALL THE TIME.) Hola was so PISSED that he dropped his right arm, while still holding onto the dresser with his left, and chose to throw himself to the ground in protest.
WHILE STILL HOLDING ONTO THE DRESSER, mind you.
One twist, one MAJOR pull, and
OUT the elbow goes.
He immediately grabbed at his elbow and began crying wildly.
I said something like “Shit”,
“We’ve got to go to the ER.”
It was perfect timing since we all were about to head out to dinner for my mother-in-law’s birthday celebration. Brother and sister-in-laws, cousins, nieces and nephews all going. Mexican food…. Coronas….Limes…oh my!
En route to C.H.O.M.P.
(California Hospital of Monterey Peninsula)
2 hours later, elbow “supposedly” back in place, we were sent home. We almost stayed for x-rays since Hola was still not using his arm after being reset. (Last time, the recovery was MINUTES later. So not the case here.) BUT, moments before they came to get us, Hola used his arm, to point. And the doc let us go. CURED!
Not so fast.
Next day, on the way back home, 24 hours, almost later, STILL not using arm, AT ALL.
So, we decide to take him to Urgent Care for x-rays just to be safe. Results? No bone damage. Score, right? Well, then what was the problem??? The “doc in the box” with his medical book in hand, (I KNOW!!) tried to put the elbow back in place for a second time. Still, no immediate recovery. So, he half-cast his arm, put him in a sling and sent us home hoping it would roll back into place on its own until we got in to see the pediatrician the next day.
(Next day, 4:30p.m.)
Pediatrician surveyed his wrist, forearm, elbow, upper arm, shoulder, collar bone, basically looked like he was giving Hola a mini-arm massage, then all of a sudden, we heard…..
Back into place. Maybe. (It was such a massive move that took a lot of focus and courage to wrangle that joint back into place. I am sure as all get out I would never have the balls to do that myself. WAAY too creepy for me.)
So, we sat around waiting (AGAIN) for some left arm movement.
Was told to go get x-rays to see if it could be ANYTHING else. Too bad they were closed for the holiday, so we were told to head in first thing this morning.
Thankfully, upon awaking this morning, Hola was using both arms as if nothing had ever happened. X-rays averted. WOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOO!
We have until the age of 3 for Hola to outgrow this.
It’s going to be a long year.
It’s be a rough year being an Oklahoma football fan, but I’d rather root for no one else. I was born this way. I was born into this love, this obsession, this thing that gets me so worked up, so down, and so ecstatic all within the same year.
Yes, I did grow up in Oklahoma, but since we didn’t have any pro teams in the state, till, um, LAST YEAR (Go Thunder!), college football was where it was at. (that sounded so wrong, but it’s exactly right.)
In middle school, I had a lovely friend who would take me most weekends to home football games. We would sit in the really good seats, have access to the indoor places only “gold” tickets could get into. Our team was so good, we were crushing our opponents at halftime by about 50 points. Therefore, we would ditch the game and head off shopping to campus corner until the game was over. Not bad, eh?
When I was in college, we sucked donkey balls, which was so out of character. It was more of joke than anything. Our hopes weren’t high and we were thrilled when we beat someone who was better than us.
Come 1999, we got the coach we needed to take us to the next level. And we did. One year later. IDEAL Success. How sweet it was. And since then, we have gone to the title game THREE TIMES, only to lose all three. (by close margins and far from it margins.)
And then there are the shining stars: The Heisman Trophy winners, Jason White and Sam Bradford, and the Adrian Peterson’s who have taken on the NFL by storm, and the Josh Heupel’s who took us to the dance and won IT 9 years ago.
And then there’s the here and now.
This season, we lost our Heisman trophy winner to injury. (first game even!) (Actually, 6 starters to injury to date) And the rest of the season has unraveled from there. (how could it not?)
It’s truly sad. It’s heartbreaking.
But, it happens. It’s happened to us. And we’ll recover. Someday. Hopefully soon. But, no matter what. I’m here, all the way out here rooting on the Crimson and Cream.
Last night was a nightmare.
I was flying solo and awake with a “what the HELL is wrong with you” child for TWO entire hours.
As I have mentioned before, we only go into Hola’s room if he is standing and crying in the night. Last night, he did this close to 20 times. No joke. No lie. NO WAY. I had no idea what was going on. He’d stop crying immediately when I entered the room, which pissed me off more than anything. If you REALLY needed me kid, you’d be bawling your eyes out continuously, but no, quiet as that Warner Bros Singing Frog the moment I opened the door.
While I would like him to work his issues out himself, I find myself conflicted. His crying PAINS me. Not in a, “poor baby” way, but in a “If I hear one more wail I am going to leave this joint” way. His room is right next to ours and the walls are made out of parchment paper. You can’t get away from it. No item shoved into my ear socket will do the trick. Plus, Rt’s room is on the other side of his, and especially while I am flying solo, I’d like to only be dealing with one kid in the night, not another one who can actually say, WORDS.
So, he’d cry, I’d eventually go in, lay him back down, get back in bed. 5 minutes later, he’d cry, I’d eventually go in, lay him back down and get back in bed. 10 minutes later, LATHER, RINSE, and REPEAT. The only thing that would change each time I would enter would be a strategic aid. First effort was with teething tablets, then Orajel. (I swear I just complained about this last week, right?) Next up, Motrin. NOTHING changed the outcome.
10 minutes pass.
9 minutes pass.
Almost falling back asleep 4 times is such a Debbie Downer on the body. It actually HURTS.
So, towards the end I was squeezing 43 ear drops into each ear, throwing his blanket back at him showing him who’s boss. (I swear, you should have been a fly on the wall. I was COMICAL. And not enjoyable to be around. Yelling obscenities in the hallway under my breathe was so close to AWESOME.)
Thinking I might have an ear infected kid on my hands, (cause why else would he NOT GO BACK TO SLEEP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, BOY?) I called early this morning and made an appointment for this afternoon. We saw the magic ear doctor that can detect infected fluid from miles away. He gave a good look inside both ears and found…….
No issues, no problems, NADA. Good luck to ya, sister.
But, wait! There isn’t anything to take for what he’s got?!? An attitude? A beef with his cotton sheet? Prefers flannel by this time of year?
In the end, I have no idea what it was, what did the trick. Maybe it was my will, maybe it was his. No matter, I pray I don’t see anybody, I mean ANYBODY, especially with a penis until daylight tomorrow.
So, I’ve gone and done it again.
I’ve lost my debit card. AND my driver’s license. (way to go slick!)
I do know where I had it last, I think. I took the boys to the market last Thursday afternoon. I usually stuff my debit card and license in a pocket while taking the boys in, so I don’t have to carry in a purse.
Wait, just one minute. I now recall having my purse in the cart when at the check out stand….And, I did find my receipt in my purse a couple of hours ago. I just checked my CREDIT card statement online and saw a purchase from last Thursday. So, I guess I was already missing my cards by that time.
Now, where in the hell did I have them last?
Let’s see. Back tracking now.
Thursday morning…… I went to the gym and went straight home. Never went out again.
Wednesday night……I didn’t buy anything.
(Had to leave for a bit, Hola woke from his nap.)
So, I didn’t really think any more about my crisis due to the kids needing things that kids usually need which involves my MIND. No more room in there for detective work! Back to regularly scheduled programming. Only until I was in the car on the way to the gym this evening did I revisit my recent usage of my cards. I was telling my friend, Allie, the same story I just told you above and all of a sudden, it clicked.
They are in the side pocket of Hola’s food pack. DUH.
I put them in there while I was juggling both kids trying to buy frozen yogurt for both Rt and his girl pal, Bella. I even had a mental moment while doing so thinking, YOU MUST NOT FORGET THESE PUPPIES ARE HERE.
AGGGGGHHHHHH. Sigh. Where do all the thoughts go?
Well, aren’t you glad you were along for the ride?
Get it together girl.
Maybe tomorrow. I’ve got Biggest Loser to watch.
Since these parts are scarce on the weekends, I feel it’s the perfect time for me to share my distaste for a certain oyster sauce I used last night in our meal.
I have had great success in replicating many meals from Pioneer Woman. Her most recent post was a recipe for Beef with Broccoli. It looked amazing and it compelled me to go to the store to get some of the ingredients I did not already own.
On my list was: oyster sauce, rice wine and peanut oil.
I found the oyster sauce, no problem. It got a bit tricky in the rice wine arena, though. I found myself in the vinegar section looking for “rice wine” vinegar. I never found any. So, I bought the rice vinegar hoping it was the same thing.
But, from what I have read, it wasn’t going to make or break my meal, so we will call that part a “push,” if you will. (rice wine is like sake. rice vinegar is what happens to wine when it goes bad. but I already has balsamic vinegar in the mix, so a little extra vinegar wasn’t going to change the taste, maybe just missing some sweetness here and there.)
The peanut oil? Was expensive, for oil’s sake, so I decided to just use a hot cooking oil I already had at home and be done with it.
While prepping dinner, I opened the jar of oyster sauce. Woah, did that NOT smell appetizing. I seriously, over the course of making dinner, began to feel nauseated. I kept thinking it would be ok by the time it was mixed with the other ingredients and, you know, COOKED.
So, I continued on, hoping for some sort of culinary miracle.
Right before serving my new found creation, hubs even said, “It smells great!” Cool, I thought. We just might make it through this one with flying colors.
Not so much.
After mentioning the beef was a tad chewy (but I attribute that more to the fact it was a sirloin and not my beef cooking abilities) we both looked at each other and mentioned something didn’t smell right. I told him of the oyster sauce issues I was having during the prep and hoped it would take care of itself on the plate.
I continued making my way through the meal, deciding it really wasn’t that bad as I cleared my plate. (maybe I held my nose?) Hubs was trying to find a movie to watch on On Demand, so he had stalled in his eating. I had already gotten up to pour some wine and looked back and told him he didn’t have to eat it if he didn’t want to. I wasn’t going to be offended.
Not two seconds after I said that, and before I could even get my glass down from the cabinets, I heard a clank noise. You know, the one you hear when someone is pushing their plate away when the utensil and the plate hit each other? Ya, that was the one.
I wasn’t too sad. I didn’t dig it much either. I was just happy we were able to down a few snickerdoodle blondies to make up for a disappointing meal.
Now, who’s going to do the dishes?