Against the Grain

We've made some difficult decisions lately. I won't get into that here, but I'll only say that we did what we believed was right for our family. As I was considering our options this week, I began to remember some of the times I've had to make difficult decisions and the consequences of doing what I believe to be right. The following is one of my all time favorite stories.

Picture it:  April Fools day at a Catholic all girls school, a group of second semester freshmen going to their after lunch English class taught by a woman who was rumored to throw freshmen out the window. I'm pretty sure she never had a parking spot. She chose to park her broom in the closet in her room. Anyway, the girls got there early, as freshmen are wont to do. Some of them thought it would be absolutely hilarious to hide from the teacher in the near by stairwell. I am a fair judge of character, in my opinion, and I did not believe this teacher would be amused in the slightest. Not. At. All. Anyway, the girls decided to go and hide and I dithered a moment before deciding to go sit down in the classroom. I knew the teacher wouldn't be amused and I decided I just didn't want any part of it. A few other girls were unsure about the prank, but ultimately decided to go along with the group. A few minutes later the teacher entered the room, she looked around and asked me if we had class or not. I said or squeaked "yes". She asked me if I knew where my classmates went and I said no (I actually didn't know, the location of the staircase was picked before I got to the group). So she stormed off looking for the class. She found them very quickly and as I predicted, she was pretty pissed.

That incident became rather notorious. I imagine she is still telling freshmen about this group of girls that hid from her.

I've never been one to "just go along with the group".  It goes against the grain of my character.

Then & Now

      I always seem to have these profound personal revelations while we're at the Day Out with Thomas. Last year's revelation was about us being a family of only three. I decided that it would be ok if we never had another child. I've mostly made peace with that possibility. This year as we were waiting for our picture with Sir Topham Hatt, I was thinking about last year's picture. It's on my desk, so I see it regularly. I was wondering how much Jeff and I had changed since last year.

This is 2013's pic:

This is 2014, roughly a year later:

Jeff apparently really likes that shirt. I admit, the difference looks more dramatic with Jeff. He's lost 40 lbs since the first picture. I've lost nearly 30. Those jeans I'm wearing in the second picture are three sizes smaller, and the shirt is two sizes smaller. Jeff has yet to commit to buying new clothes. He did relent and let me buy him some new belts last summer. Sir Topham Hatt looks the same. 

I didn't really realize how much we've lost until I looked at these photos. The other night we went through our clothes. Many of my dresses and skirts had to be tossed into the donate piles because they were so big, all except my black dresses*. It was very freeing to toss (read: donate) so much stuff. Our closets are nice and roomy now. 

I have to admit this has been so much easier since we've done it together. We support and encourage each other. We help each other to make better food choices. And to split not so great food choices. We've also watched a lot of Star Trek together while riding our exercise bike. It's a chore sometimes, but most of the time it's fun. 

I'm looking forward to next year's picture with Sir Topham Hatt. 

*I have a thing about black dresses. I've saved them in case I ever do actually get pregnant and need to go to a funeral. Sounds ridiculous, right? Well, I went to two funerals and a wedding while I was pregnant with Doug. It could happen. And I'm not shelling out cash for a maternity dress. Highway robbery! End of aside

The Village

So Doug's been going to preschool at a local county's Parks and Recs program. He started in September for two days a week and has loved it. Half way through the spring he was going to age out of his class. Enrollment is done on a six week basis, it's a huge pain in the butt. So if we wanted him to continue, we'd have to put him in the next class up. We debated for a while about whether or not we wanted him to continue, but last week I realized that he really enjoys it and gets a lot out of it, so we enrolled him for six weeks in the next class.

One of the reasons Doug loved his class is because he adores his teacher, Ms. Beth. She's a maternal sort of woman and gets Doug pretty well. He can be some what quirky about things like finger paint. Any time we looked at preschool options for next year, Doug would ask, "Is this Ms. Beth's class?". So I was more than comfortable in letting him finish the year out with her.

We got to his first class of the new session this morning only to find out that our beloved Ms. Beth is not the teacher. I was instantly panicked, "How will Doug deal with this? Is he going to hate it?". I had promised Ms. Beth and she was not here. Luckily, the teacher's assistant was the same for both classes and Doug was comfortable with her. He seemed to be fairly calm, so I left.

I was so disappointed by this switch that I cried a bit in the car (ok, partly monthly hormones, but still). Aside from Doug's disappointment, I couldn't figure out why this was upsetting me so much. As I drove to get a much needed cup of coffee, it dawned on me. Ms. Beth has been the only stranger so far that I've entrusted Doug to. And I think that set up a bond between the three of us. Sure, Doug goes to his own Sunday school class and plays in the church nursery, but that's different. I know those women and so does Doug. Plus, I'm usually right nextdoor or down the hall. No big deal. But Ms. Beth was the first person I'd left my baby with for a few hours at a time. It was hard the first time and I think she helped us both through that transition.

Of course Doug was pretty nonchalant about the whole thing when I picked him up. I peeked in on him and saw him running a giraffe across the floor, clearly not a tortured soul. He was excited that he now gets to play on the 'big kid's playground'.

In retrospect, it was kind of a good lesson for him. He is blessed to have so many, wonderful and amazing people in his village. And sometimes those people move on. But they still helped a bit to make you who you are.

NFL Sundays

Once upon a time, I used to pity people who had to watch football games on Sundays. It takes at least a three hour chunk out of your weekend, you need to plan around it. And Monday night games? Be prepared to be exhausted Tuesday morning. And for what? To watch a bunch of overpaid men-children throw a ball and to see countless beer and car commercials? Seems ridiculous! 

That started changing for us last season. We had invited my Grandma over for dinner. Unbeknownst to me, it was the last game of the Skin's regular season. It may have been make or break for them to get into the play-offs (probably). Anyway, I realized that I was going to have to plan dinner around the game, that is unless I wanted to be written out of her will. So we did just that, I managed to time dinner for half time, and we recorded the game on our dvr, just in case. Doug loved it. He snuggled up with my Grandma on our couch and was riveted by the game. The next weekend, he was asking if we could watch some more football, so we watched the Redskins playoff game (Doug was seriously concerned about RGIII, watching him getting hurt and all). And then the next weekend he wanted to watch more football. The Redskins having been eliminated we decided to watch the Baltimore Ravens, and we watched them all the way to the superbowl. 

In the off season, we decided that we would primarily root for the Baltimore Ravens. Our county is after all a suburb of Baltimore rather than Washington. It also seemed fair. Jeff's family roots for the Kansas City Chiefs and mine for the Redskins. This seemed like a fair compromise, not favoring one family over the other. 

We had a nice time watching football as a family this season. We had some very relaxing Sundays. We'd get up and go to Sunday school and church and then come home and have lunch and watch the Ravens. No running around to the store or other errands. Just the three of us cheering on the Ravens and sometimes the Chiefs together. 

I learned a lot about football this year and grew to really like it. People who have known me most of my life now look at me like I have three heads when I start to talk about football. But it is an interesting game, not unlike chess in many ways. I am apparently also very loud when I watch football. On more than one occasion Doug has told me to stop yelling. I still have no idea what the point of an onside kick is though. 

I'm looking forward to watching the Super Bowl, just the three of us on the couch , with some yummy snacks. 

Maybe next year it'll be the Ravens or Chief's year.

One of the few times a Chiefs game was broadcast in our area. We got to watch the Chiefs and the Ravens back to back this day.

Advent Project

I had the dubious privilege of witnessing the most bizarre tantrum a few weeks ago. When we were at a pet store with my in-laws, my father-in-law gave Doug some change he had gotten back after he made his purchase. Doug took the change and headed back to the cash register area, looked around and then wailed, "There's no box!!!". We were all quite confused. I asked him what he meant. He explained, "There's no box, for the kids!". And then it dawned on me, "Like at McDonald's? When I give you my change for the kids in the hospital?". "YES!". I  told him that the pet store didn't have a box for that, but if he liked, we could drop it off the next time we were at McDonald's. He seemed to like that idea, but whined about it for a bit on the car ride home. I was finally at wits end with this and told him when we got home, I'd stick the change in an envelope and mail it to Ronald McDonald. He seemed to be satisfied with that.

I started thinking about it though and it seemed like this was an opportunity for one of those 'teachable moments'. When we got home I asked him instead if he's like to collect change until Christmas and then drop off a lot of change at once for Ronald McDonald House. He agree and we decorated an old bottle (with glitter glue, naturally). We've collected quite a bit of change and Doug is always very excited when Jeff and I give him some more. At some point tomorrow, we'll all go together and drop it off. I'm amazed at how excited Doug is about it and how well he's stuck with it. I think this is a nice Christmas tradition for us to adopt. I think we'll definitely pick a charity and do the same thing next year.

Stump the Doctor

Every few years it seems like my body likes to play a good game of 'Stump the Doctor'. I will present with a handful of symptoms, some of which can be neatly attributed to a specific diagnosis. I will also have a few other symptoms that don't quite fit and I'll also be missing a few factors that doctors deem key for a diagnosis of that particular condition. And I'll go from doctor to doctor, seeking answers and getting none, all the while suffering from an untreated condition.

 My all time favorite remains a diagnosis of possible gout from a previous primary doctor. She heard me say that my legs, among other things, hurt. She could find nothing else wrong and would not entertain my notion that it was in fact, fibromyalgia. I eventually found a doctor who also believed it was fibro and got treatment for it. But it was a long painful time. It's hard to be sick and suffering through an illness and then, on top of it, have doctors unable or unwilling to explore options. Now I get a kick out of the whole gout debacle. When I have an odd pain, I'll tell Jeff that it must be gout. "This feels like an ear infection, but it's probably gout of the ear.".

Well, it seemed lately that I'd developed uterine gout.* It started at least before January, but I specifically remember in January going to see my ob gyn about it. It's a large practice and I like most of the doctors, so I was comfortable seeing anyone there. I went in and complained that it had been six months since we started trying to get pregnant. I know, I know, they need at least a year before they'll do anything, but we got pregnant right away with Doug. I was scared to wash our clothes together after he was born. Anyway, mid cycle I was having some stabbing, aching pains. And please, I know all about Mittelschmerz** (mid cycle pain some women experience during ovulation, lasting at MOST two days). It was dismissed as normal and we were sent on our merry way. I went back to see another ob sometime that Spring, complaining of the same thing, except now the pain was lasting four days. I got another pat on the head and everything is fine.

So in July we came up against the magical one year of trying to conceive deadline. I went back to my ob and explained the situation and the pain again, which was still growing. I was having a LOT of pain mid-cycle and certain activities produced pain and I was having the same, dull ache and stabbing feeling on my period now too. My doctor sent me to a local (large) fertility clinic to get sorted out. We were hopeful that at last we'd get to the bottom of this.

The clinic, before talking to us, before doing any tests or looking at the MOUNDS of personal health histories we filled out, told us that our options were either IUI or IVF. We were a bit confused. We thought they would diagnose and FIX the fertility issue, not simply overcome it. It was somewhat like being told your house was going to have to be burned down to kill a small infestation of mice. Anyway, they couldn't find anything wrong with me and weren't willing to look into the now horrible pain I was having every month. It was a rather disappointing waste of time, but at least we didn't get $20k into it before finding out it wouldn't work. We're extremely blessed to have Doug, and we're ok if we end up being a family of three. So we weren't super interested in going that route.

I went back to my obgyn's office a total of three more times, seeing three more doctors trying to get to the bottom of the pain. One finally ordered a more detailed ultrasound to be done while I was in pain. It didn't show anything. The only thing the doctor could come up with is that the mid-cycle pain is setting off some inflammation and I'm sensitive to that. That doesn't explain why it gets progressively worse each month. The last time I went back, I ended up going on the pill. The doctor couldn't think of anything else to do for me. The pain was lasting nine days now, and my cycles were getting shorter, 25 days. I needed a breather from the pain and I just wanted to get through the holidays at this point. So, despite the fact that we're trying to get pregnant, I'm on the pill for the next three months.

Today I finally met a doctor who believed me when I said something was very wrong, and confirmed my suspicions. It seems likely that I have endometriosis. We won't know for sure unless a surgery is done to confirm it. Endometriosis doesn't show up on any scans. Some women with just a little bit of endo have extreme pain, while other with tons of endo have little to no pain. My symptoms didn't suggest 'classic endometriosis' as my doctors have been telling me. Unfortunately, their expertise is limited to pap smears, birthing babies, normal pregnancies and writing scripts for the pill. So I finally found a doctor who has expertise in dealing with endo and other disorders.

 It was such a sweet relief to have a doctor take me seriously. Right now the plan is to stay on the pill for a few months and then come off of it and see what happens. It's a possibility that I may have surgery in the spring. We'll just have to wait and see.

But it's so nice now to have a doctor on my side and to know I have options and to get a better grasp on what I'm up against!

It's also a comfort to know there are so many ladies out there with endometriosis. I've met a few in the past few months, and it's always nice to know you're not alone.

And thank you to everyone who has been supportive of me during this time, Jeff, Bridget, and my Mom who has watched Doug for about a 100 hours while I went to the doctors.

For a while, I contemplated taking in a show and tell of what my uterus felt like when I was in pain. Initially, I envisioned a grape fruit and my largest knitting needles. I decided though, that play doh and toothpicks were less messy. 

                           





*No, I don't think that's a real thing. And I don't want to know if it is. I'm not trying to belittle gout either.  I know it's a painful and horrible condition. I just think it's hilarious my doctor was so off target. You have to find some things funny or else you'll never get through them.

**I think more weird pains need to be given German names. I don't think people would make fun of PMS if it had a German sounding "I WILL KICK YOUR BUTT" name. Seriously. Mittelschmerz sounds like pain on steroids.

The Trade

Doug has managed to put many baby things away without complaint, the stroller, the high chair, his crib and quite an assortment of toys. But not the Baby Einstein Aquarium. He's on his third one. The first one broke within a year, and in a panic we ran out to buy one that night, because dude, we need sleep! The second one broke within a few months and I emailed the manufacturer, who sent me a replacement free of charge. That was about 18 months ago. 

We kept hoping that he would outgrow the need for this battery devouring toy. Every two-ish weeks we'd need to replace all four C batteries in it. We hoped when he went into a regular bed he wouldn't need it. No such luck. I bought him a Sleep Sheep (we've replaced its batteries twice in 18 months) in the hopes that just the soothing white noise from it was enough. No dice. Recently we'd taken to just asking him if he could possibly sleep without it. HA! I realized that he wasn't going to take it off to college, but I thought it was about time to gently disengage him from it.

Last week I saw our opportunity coming. I was singing him his lullabies, and I kept hearing a clicking sound. I noticed that it was coming from the infamous aquarium. There was a small tear in the background, and every time it went around it caught. I came to the conclusion that one of two things was going to happen in the near future: 1. it was going to just catch and tear off completely or 2. tear enough to impede the progress of the scroll. Either way, it was close to breaking.  I began to imagine a nightmarish scenario in which it broke in the middle of the night and we had an inconsolable child on our hands, possibly sleeping in our bed (which is a HELL no). 

I decided to be proactive and head this dilemma off at the pass. I turned to the old parental stand by: bribery.  I began looking for a toy so amazingly awesome that Doug would trade the aquarium for it. I found a game called 'Lucky Ducks' there are twelve ducks in a moving pond that go around Ernie from Sesame Street. There are four groups of  ducks, each set of three have the same shape on their bottoms, so it's a matching game. Doug is quite the duck enthusiast, so it was perfect! I ordered the game and oddly enough, it was delivered on a Sunday. We came back from church and a package was sitting on our porch. I told Doug it wa a surprise for him (always a sure way to get him all worked up). As I opened the box I noticed that the batteries were not included, it needed two C batteries. So we told Doug he could have this game, but only if we got the aquarium, because we needed the batteries from it. I couldn't have planned it better if I had tried. 

I thought that Doug might hem and haw over this trade for a few hours to days, but I was willing to give him time. What I wasn't prepared for was him skipping down the hall to hand us the aquarium so we could butcher it for batteries. As you can see, Doug was clearly pleased with this arrangement: 

As I expected, bedtime Sunday night was a bit rough. Jeff has moved Doug's night light closer to his bed as Doug primarily used the aquarium as a night light when he woke up in the middle of the night. Doug asked to have a flashlight in bed, but I offered to loan him something else. I'd had a glow worm when I was Doug's age and when I was in college my mom gave me one as a nostalgic gift. I went and fished it out for Doug and he's able to give it a squeeze when he needs a little extra light. All in all, I think the trade has worked out quite well.