Life Change

This post is very personal and will be long. It will involve my condition that I have had since I was a teenager and certain physical ailments. I will be referring to female reproduction for this post. You are warned…

Tomorrow at 9:30 am est, I will be checking into the outpatient services at my local hospital. I will be having my tubes cut, tied and cauterised, a tubal ligation. I will also have an ablation while there, simple procedure. What I didn’t know that I was going to have to have is a D&C. You see, I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, PCOS. In simple terms, I do not ovulate and I do not have periods. I can’t tell you all the things that comes with having PCOS other than what I just said, being unable to have children, having thick dark hair all over, tremendous weight gain, sugar resistance and the list goes on. I’m not here to tell you about my syndrome but about my emotional side of this.

When I was 14, I was told by my OB that I would never have any children. My body just didn’t ovulate and without that, no pregnancy. I had ALWAYS wanted kids. I was my Mom’s baby and my Daddy’s only. I wanted a big family when I got older. Doctors didn’t know why at that time why my body did or didn’t do what a female body was suppose to. It didn’t have a name back then.

As I got older, I got married and instantly wanted a family. My same doctor wouldn’t talk to me about fertility the first year I was married but after that, we began intense treatments. Nothing worked. (Thank God for unanswered prayers) My marriage was never a good one. A story for another day but after 8 years, I was never able to get pregnant.

My husband now knew of my infertility and looked past it although he wanted children as bad as I did. I had began planning on adoption after my divorce and moving forward with my current husband. Months into our relationship, I started getting really sick. I went to the doctor and I was 4 months pregnant. It was impossible but I was pregnant. Since that first positive test, I have had 3 more positives. 3 girls and a boy. We are a family of 6. The large family I have ever dreamed about.

With the brief cliff notes history behind this post I will get down to what I want to say.

I have spent my life labeled infertile. I do not have many of the normal traits that a woman has. A woman’s fertility is her right to womanhood. I did not have that right. If you’re a guy and don’t want to deal with the details, you can leave here til the next paragraph. I don’t have periods, not that I am complaining about that, but without them, you can’t have children typically. I have body hair that is thick and dark. Mostly when I was younger, not now. I had laser treatments on my face to treat that hair. I am overweight and have been most of my life. All these things add up to “not being a woman”. I felt so broken. I was not a woman in any sense of the matter. I have faced friends and family going through the rites of womanhood with fierce jealousy. I looked at beautiful women and wished so hard that I could just be a woman, fertile and beautiful.

Once I had my first “miracle” child, I felt better but not exactly woman. Doctors all said the same thing. Pregnancy once was just a hiccup and not to ever expect to get pregnant again. Then second “miracle” came along, then third and now fourth.

 

I am fertile

 

I am woman

 

I can bear children

Now I have made this decision to take all that away. I will be honest and tell you that I am fixing to be 38 and I feel too old to be having more children. I also feel 4 is plenty for our family. I have made the decision to take the woman out of me, in a sense of speaking. Something I have fought so long and hard for, I am giving up. It isn’t something that I could ever explain to somebody that has never faced these issues. I am mourning the loss of my fertility. I see myself as “old and dried up” cause only old people have this done. It hurts to know that I will no longer bear another child. My life is dedicated to my family in all aspects. This includes any unborn child that could have been.

My body has had its share of stress and I know in my head that this is the right decision. The only decision. But my heart is screaming in protest. It aches for things it doesn’t know anything about. My heart is so full of anger towards my head. My head is calling my heart stupid and to grow up. It is such a struggle between the two. I have no words to explain this for everybody to understand. I’m not sure anybody could ever understand this loss but me. To me this is a life loss. I don’t want to give up my fertility. I don’t want to think about the “what if’s” in the future. I’m not sure I could ever willing surrender completely to this decision no matter how much I know it’s the best decision.

I am mourning my life, my fertility, my womanhood and any unborn that may ever be. It is a selfish thought and I will be ok with that right now. I have that right. Without this surgery, several other factors with my syndrome come into play and my future health is at stake. I will not risk what I have for what could be.

This post is personal. I know it’s hard to read with understanding. It is something that I need to get out. Thank you for your patience and just considering my loss no matter how significant.

 

 

 

Taking The Moment

I look at my children and wonder where time went. My oldest will be 8 soon and my youngest is trying hard to crawl. I can’t remember all of the pieces of their lives because of pain but I’m fully aware now. I get caught up in stupid things like TV and social media. I worry about non-important stuff when my kids are right in front of me growing up. I remind myself that they are only mine for a moment. In this very moment, my child is learning something either with me or without me. I see these kids as self thriving little people but they aren’t. They still depend on me. I have to stop and see them for the small children they are. This moment is all we have. In the next second, it’s history and I can’t get that back. This moment could be a good memory or a bad memory. You can decide which 99% of the time if you just take a moment to realize the impact. My children want more moments, they need more moment with just me. I’m going to be that mommy. I’m going to live for that moment with my children. I’m going to seize the small, tiny moment and make it special. Not only for them but for me too. I love my children more than life and would do anything to make them happy, sustainable people in this world. I may be giving up something I enjoy and my way of disconnecting but I think once I see the moments in clear details, I will no longer want to disconnect. I will engage in these tiny moments because they are gone so fast and one they are gone, that’s it. No do-overs. Take a second and look in your yard. You see a rock? My kids see a beautiful stone that has mystical powers and can build tall castles and defend them from evil sorcerers. All I see is a rock. I want to see the magic like they do. It’s all in the moment. Do I want to take that moment to see the mystical stone or just keep blowing off the rock?
I’m taking the moment…

Going After Life

Some of you know the story behind my back issues but most don’t. So I thought it was about time you heard the whole story:

On January 24, 2007 I was getting ready  for work. Running right on time to beat the downtown Greenville traffic. I went to do a final mirror check when the sunlight hit me just right to cause me to sneeze. Yes, I am one of those people who sneezes when I see bright light. When I sneezed, I fell to the floor. The pain was not like anything I could ever explain. It went from the small of my back, down my left leg into my foot. I couldn’t stand for a very long time, so it seemed. I called work and told them that I would be about 15 minutes late and worked my way up to standing. It took what seemed like forever to walk but I finally did. Not very well. My car was a souped up Mazda 6 straight drive and I had a horrible time trying to get to work but I did. That day was miserable. Tears would just soak my shirt but I stuck the day out. The next day I went to the doctor. She had me to close my eyes and told me to tell her when I felt something. I waited and waited for her to touch me or something. I never did. She had me to open my eyes and she showed me a syringe needle that she had been poking me with. I never felt a thing. I even had small drops of blood where she had poked. She was fairly certain I had ruptured a disc.

The next 4 years of my life was pure, brutal hell.

I went to a neurosurgeon that told me I needed to have surgery. He was a doctor so I believed everything he said. So I agreed to the surgery. This was one of the worst mistakes of my life. After SEVERAL weeks of waiting and x-rays, I was set with my surgery. He entered through my back and did the surgery. Find out later why I say it like that.

I don’t remember very much. I remember sleeping on the worst couch in the entire world. I remember taking Loratab and Vicodin like candy. I remember thinking if I could take enough drugs when mu family wasn’t looking, I could make all the pain go away. Found out later this is called suicidal pain and I thought these thoughts up til last year.

I walked with a very bad limp. I gained so much weight because I couldn’t get out and play with my family or do the things family’s do. I sat and watched my life pass me by and all I could do was take more pain meds and wish I could make the pain go away. The pain didn’t go away.

I went back to the same doctor that did the surgery. He told me that the pain was all in my head. Seriously, in my head. So I asked for a second opinion. Every once in a while I mention how gullible I am? This is one of those times. I let the doctor call another doctor in Greenville. I went and he looked at my medical records and x-ray’s and said “It’s all in your head, now go home and get some rest.”

Broken hearted that I was imagining my pain, I started doing things I shouldn’t. Like drinking. Lots of whiskey mostly. With my pills. Keep in mind I have a 2-year-old too. This was a vicious cycle that lasted til I found out I was pregnant with child 2. Then we moved to the beach.

With this pregnancy, I could only take Vicodin and not much else. I tried to stay off my feet and not do much of anything. By 7 months I wasn’t walking. The pain was so unbearable. I saw doctors and they couldn’t do anything til I had the baby. So I finally had child 2 and began getting opinions on my back. Of course, they would get previous doctors notes and never did any x-rays/scans. I was all in my head again.

I was so angry and in so much pain. I drank and popped the pills as often as I could. Then one day, I heard about a place in Charleston that only dealt with backs.  Southeastern Spine Institute. They looked at all my medical records and said ok. That was boring and we are going to start new. They did a exstinsive amount of MRI’s, x-ray’s and blood work. Took about a week and I was back in their office for surgery consult. The pain was real. Did you hear that? IT WAS REAL!!! I cried when I heard those words. I also found out why all the other doctors were telling me it wasn’t. The first surgeon REMOVED my disc. there was a thin sliver left but basically, vertebra on vertebra with nerves being damaged with each move I made.

I was scheduled to have a L5 bone fusion on March 27, 2009. That was the day of my 35th birthday and it was going to be the day I was fixed finally. BUT, I wasn’t.

You ever hear of the couple going to the hospital to have some major life changing thing done only to get sent home because of one little test that came up positive? Whelp, that was me. I was pregnant with child 3. The most expensive pregnancy test ever cause I did 2 pee test and still made them take a blood sample to verify. $1500 in pregnancy tests alone.

Well, that pregnancy was just like child 2 except worse. 8 weeks after she was born, I was scheduled again for surgery. I got it that time. They cut through the front of my stomach and would have to have major arteries moved so I had a vascular doctor as well. The surgery was to take 45 minutes ended up 4 hours because of the damage in there.

Once I was home, my mom that was staying with me got extremely sick and had to leave so I was on my feet a little sooner that I was supposed to but I did well. Almost a year into my 2 year recovery time, I decided that I needed to see what pain was real and what pain was from the drug dependency. And yes I say it like that even though I needed the pain meds. It was November. In 6 weeks I was completely off all pain meds. I still hurt but I was clearer about the pain and used over the counter drugs to help as much as possible.

I was a year and a half into recovery when I found out I was pregnant again. This pregnancy was so much easier that my previous 2. Not as good as my first but not bad. Other factors weighed in at the end for my stress but overall a good pregnancy.

I can say now, I am in full recovery and I feel the best I have felt in many, many years. I have missed a lot of life. Maybe why I don’t feel my age most of the time. I plan on living again and I am starting now.  I have started training for a 5k marathon. I have never ran a day in my life, but I will.

I’m going to end this long post now and hope I haven’t bored anybody to tears. I left out tons of stuff, but with so many years, I couldn’t possibly put it all in this post.

I will see you soon, as I will start blogging my living life at the largest

~Cyn~

This is the titanium plate that was put in. The circle and ball object is my belly ring, ignore that part

Me Time

Everybody has their own little quirks how they want their “me” time. I’m included. I have found a real problem in mine lately though. I have spent almost 9 years conditioning my husband that my “me” time isn’t real important. He works between 55-60 hours a week but in reality it’s more like 70+ hours a week. I don’t have personal friends here like I did back home. We have (by choice) been a one car family for a long time. I never committed to playdates with acquaintances because of transportation. Until I had our son, I did all the grocery shopping, errands, bill paying, anything that needed to be done outside the home. I don’t ever talk on the phone. If you can get me to talk on the phone, then you’ve accomplished something huge. To boil it down, I made my husband’s life outside of work as simple as possible. He never has kept the kids more than an hour unless some kind of emergency has came up. I don’t ask him to do anything to/around the house unless it’s something I just can’t do. In my own personal opinion, I don’t feel that he should have to do any of these things. He provides me and the kids a home, food, love, safety and I get to stay home to care for it all. Being a stay at home mom (sahm) is all I have ever wanted to do and he allows me to do that.
Now the part about “me” time. I have had the kids 24/7/365. Like I said before, I usually don’t ask my husband to watch the kids but since baby boy has been born, I’ve stressed a lot. I couldn’t leave my bedroom for a long time still have issues but I push through them. I can’t go grocery shopping, I panic, constantly needing to know where my kids are. To leave the house is a very minimum of an hour just to get clothes, hair and shoes. If I decide to wear makeup or actually match clothes up for everybody it’s close to 2 hours. Baby boy is clingy some days, which I can deal with unless I need to get something done. Baby girl is plain out in terrible twos heading into terrorizing threes. To say the least, I’m extremely overwhelmed and I need a break. I HATE ASKING THOUGH! If I do leave the kids with my husband, I stress so bad over them pushing his buttons and then they are in trouble, in their rooms and not allowed out. Then I feel guilty cause even as stretched as I am, I still have more patience with them than he does. I can’t say anything to my husband cause then I feel like he thinks he can’t do a good enough job and that’s not the case.
Example of what I’ve created: I have said for several days that I wanted to go to the store to pick up some stuff. The reply to the statements are, “I’ll just go cause you don’t need to be dragging around the kids everywhere” this is the assumption that I would be taking the kids but had planned not to, or “you’re taking the kid with you, right?” Again no I wasn’t and I had said already I wanted to go alone. Then yesterday I wanted to go get my hair cut, colored and styled. I asked how much could I spend and with a very crossed face he stated this really small amount and that him and the kids would wait in the car. The amount is usually what I pay for a simple trim with no tip.
I think at this point I’ve hit my bottom. We are spending ungodly amounts of money on him eating out at work cause I can’t grocery shop, I feel so guilty asking to go alone. I can’t even take a bath or shower alone cause one of the kids has to get in. I can wait til it’s very late at night but then run a risk of waking baby since he sleeps in our room.
I’ve turned into a total bitch about it too and I truly don’t mean too. I rather not say anything because I don’t want to have to ask for a break. I try so hard to control my temper when it comes to being an unfair punishment for the kids but lately I’ve been blowing up. I don’t fight, can’t stand confrontation but lately that is all I do.
I just need some “me” time. Find myself again. Grocery shopping would probably be a good start.
I know this has been a long post and it’s more of a vent post for me and I apologize. My husband is a great man and I love him more than anything. I just have conditioned him to look past “me”.
~ Before I was a wife, before I was a mother, I was just a girl looking for love, nothing about that ever changed, nothing about that ever will~

Where do I go from here?

My last couple of posts have told you about most of the events that are ongoing in my life. The struggles, the worry and the stress. I am going to write this last “pity” post and try to move forward with good from here.
I went to my OB/GYN yesterday and we discussed all my options that the midwife will be able to provide, the problem with my epidural site being sealed (never had an epidural before but just want to make her aware of the fusion that now prevents ever having one there). We talked about my laboring options and how I could labor. We just got all our ducks in a row knowing time is close. I did ask for a procedure to be done that helps bring in labor and she agreed to do it yesterday. Hopefully we will be having baby soon with that being done.
Yesterday was also the day my mom got the results from her lung biopsy. When I spoke to her on the phone she sounded so happy and upbeat. I instantly was thrilled. I remember saying something like “you sound so happy that you must have got a good report from your doctor!” She said she had a good visit and I asked her if it was just scar tissue in her lungs and she said yes.
I knew something was wrong this afternoon when my husband sent our two youngest kids to their room. Oldest was still at school. He turned the tv off and pulled our coffee table right up to where I was sitting. He sat down face to face and took my hands in his. He began by telling me that my daddy had called him… I knew what he was going to tell me. My mom was trying to protect me and my pregnancy when she didn’t fully admit what the doctor had said. My mom was diagnosed with lung cancer yesterday and she isn’t operable.
They felt that I needed to hear it from my husband because he could tell me in person and also he lost his dad to lung cancer in 2000. All I could think was how happy she sounded. How could she have sounded so happy and just find out she has cancer?
I have scheduled an induction for next Wednesday if I haven’t had the baby by then. My mom has an appointment with the oncologist this Friday. She can make her plans around the treatment options and knowing the baby will be here no later than Wednesday.
My mind is in a darker fog than before. I haven’t talked to my mom yet. I need to control my emotions just a little better than I have today. My heart is broken and I know it’s a long road from here. I will call tomorrow and begin this new journey together. 

Playing catch-up

These last two weeks has been a roller coaster of ups and downs. I’m beyond tired and stressed. We started this coaster ride on March 26th. We had our OB/GYN appointment, which we saw the midwife. She assured me that we can get baby boy turned correctly, gave me some exercises to do and told me about a procedure they can do in office. I felt so much better after that appointment. Then we were off to the dentist so my husband could get his temporary crown from his root canal. There ended up being more work involved in that than they expected, so that took an hour longer. Then we picked up our oldest, loaded our van and set out to my parents house, 5 hours away.
Our trip was a very good, uneventful trip. Which with 3 kids and a very preggers mommy is always good. At my parents house, I had a birthday that I tried to let slip by. We celebrated Monkey’s 4th birthday since we were with family. I helped my Mom fill out pre-op papers for her surgery that was scheduled for later this month. Me and my husband looked into their medicare benefits and did all the insurance inquires. I was able to see my best friend that I haven’t seen in a very long time. I was so excited about our “date”. Hubs took me to downtown Greenville to Mast General Store where they sell old fashion candy and I was able to get a Cherry Mash. We went to a baby store and test drove strollers and car seats. It was just a very busy week.
When I had left my “date” with my best friend, I called my Mom to see if she needed anything. She was very horse. (My Mom has emphysema, COPD, scar tissue on her lungs and is on oxygen) I hung up with her because her neighbors had walked up (remember this). I called her new doctor and scheduled an emergency appointment. This was Thursday evening and they worked her in on Monday.
We had Monkey’s birthday party on Friday and prepared to leave the following day. We went by my mother-in-law’s house on the way out of time. Spent some time with hub’s mom and sister.
Fast forward to Monday. My Mom goes to her doctor’s appointment. She has an upper respiratory infection. Something we expected. What we didn’t expect was her neighbor (the one from earlier, that had stopped out at her house on Thursday before) was dead. When she had stopped at my Mom’s house that evening, she had thought she had stepped in a fire ant bed. She didn’t know til she was in the hospital later that she was bit by a snake. By Saturday night, she was dead.
Well, my parents are dealing with the death, plus knowing there is a live snake in their yard that could do that, then my Mom had an appointment with her lung doctor. That’s when we found out about the pneumonia and a spot that was found on her lung.
Time for panic to start setting in on me. We are now waiting on all the meds to work so we can find out about this spot. But there is a huge BUT. Her lung doctor will not allow her to be put to sleep at all. Even with everything cleared up. Her lungs are just too weak. So whether her spot is good or bad, they can’t do anything about it if it involves sedation.
Now comes to the sickness in my house. Punkydoodles started a fever this past Saturday. Meds will bring them down temporarily but not for long. In my experiences with fevers in the past, I knew she was at risk for seizures so I have kept her right by my side. She has even been sleeping in baby boy’s crib. Her fevers are very high when they peak. Usually around 104-105. When she isn’t burning up, she’s around 100. We had her in the peds office first thing yesterday and the doctor said she had a very bad sinus infection. He was able to tell me that she has a really bad sore throat and her ears hurt too. He gave her amoxicillin and instructed me to add more ibuprofen to what I was giving her. As of last night, we still are dealing with 104 temp.

I am going to finish this very long post on a somewhat good note. After my OB appointment yesterday, the doctor thinks Trei has finally turned head down. Not 100% sure but she thinks so. I start stress test every week in 2 weeks and she will take a quick ultrasound to make sure. That is a huge weight lifted if he has turned with only 6 weeks left or less.

Body Image

Everybody has a body image of themselves. Some positive, some negative. This is the story of my body image.

I have always been bigger than my peers. In school, I was the chunky one with the supermodel skinny friends. I had only one other friend that could relate to me and she was super pretty, so most people didn’t look at her body. Me on the other hand, I wasn’t fat, think I was a size 12 in school, but I wasn’t skinny like my size 0-3 friends were either. I always stood out because of my size. I was at the end of a lot of bullying and a couple of times it came to blows because of the bullying. I don’t regret the fights I was in because of it but I do regret that I have to live with the words that were said to cause them. I was called horrible things since I was in 3rd grade. Things that stuck with me, even now.

I have never been huge. The most I ever weighed was 215lbs, a size 22. I had been married for 7 years and was in the very pit of hell. My ex was an alcoholic and was extremely abusive mentally and emotionally. At the 6-7 year mark of our dead marriage, I decided I was losing weight for me. Nobody else but me. I couldn’t have children because of the weight either so what the hell.  I was tired of being left out of groups because of him and I wanted to get out of this horrible funk. It took me a year and a half but I had lost down to 147 and a size 8. I had compliments coming at me from everywhere except home. At home I was being accused of everything under the sun but being myself. I didn’t let it slow me down. I enjoyed the new-found freedom of clothes shopping. Didn’t buy a lot but I did buy things I would have never bought before because it’s not plus size. My body image began to look up. I felt better about me. I gained friends that I didn’t need from the weight loss but I saw my skinny friends deal with the same things too. I didn’t love my body but I liked it so much more than ever. To keep from rambling, my marriage fell apart with every pound I lost. I met my husband now and was divorced from my ex asap.

I had my first child and gained 51lbs with my pregnancy. Wasn’t as big as I had ever been but size 18 was close. This time around I had support from my family with the weight loss. I had lost most of it within a few years and was pregnant with our second child. I gained less but still ended up at size 18. Lost weight within a year or so for my back surgery. While waiting on my IV in the pre-op, I find out I’m having our third child. Well, this summer, I decided to lose the weight again. Was doing so well, walking was going great. Since my back was hurt, I had not been able to enjoy much activities. I was going to the beach, I was looking better, feeling better. Then pregnant again.

That leads me to this. I am right at 6 months pregnant. I love my round belly, not so much of the huge breast that I have even before pregnancy, much less now. I do not regret my children under any circumstances. If I ended up as big as a house, I would never regret my children. They are not a part of my body image other than the baby pouch that I wear proudly. But my body image, no matter how much better I felt, was never good enough. I have NEVER said I was pretty, beautiful, or sexy (other than joking). I have never thought of myself in those ways. I might have felt better about myself but it didn’t mean I liked the way I looked. I know beauty is what is inside. In my experience, if you don’t like how something looks on the outside, then you will never get to know the inside. All my life I was called names and I was used by others. I let them because I knew I would never fit into the cliques the way they do. I still don’t trust people because of this. I’ve heard “awe, you have such a pretty face” so often that I could be rich if I had a penny for every one. My failed first marriage didn’t help as an adult. I heard such terrible things and he went out of his way to prove many. My body image, even now is still bruised and healing from his words that he inflicted on me.

I thought about all this last night when I gave someone a compliment. They needed the compliment and made them feel much better. I thought about how much a small compliment or harmful word could change a person’s day. I see myself as a big, plus sized woman trying to walk on eggshells and never think that others might feel the same way I do. When I see them, they do not make me think they are the person that they are telling me they are. Their image of themselves is different from the way I interpret them. Maybe I am too hard on myself and it is something I need to work on. Since meeting my husband now, I have ranged from a size 8 to a size 18. Most of the time I waver between a 14/16. I don’t think those are huge on others and I don’t think they are huge for me. But I do think that society does see that as a reason to not be nice.

No matter the compliment that I may ever receive, I never take it to heart. It’s just words and can mean nothing when it’s not taken seriously. I have three girls that I am trying to raise to not see size, race, gender or anything else that makes us different from each other. I try to teach them that it’s our differences that makes us all special but they do not define who we are. My oldest in first grade and she tells me about the children in her class. She never saw color on a person until children at school made it a big deal to her. She tells them that we are all the same on the inside, just some come with different parts than others. I just hope that I can keep teaching my children the things that I had to learn the hard way.

And I truly hope that I can teach them to never have a bad body image of themselves. That they can love themselves. Never let someone hurt their spirit they way mine had been damaged and can never be repaired.