Who says it can't be real AND fun?

When I first started this blog, I had plans for it to be fun. FUN!

Yeah, another thing that didn't happen quite as I planned in the last year. It's been honest, which I would like to think counts for something.

Recently I've been thinking about what I'd ultimately like my site to look like. I'm picturing a real website, banners, different pages, the whole deal. I'm picturing some fun aspects to the site, including reviews of some great books and awesome products and companies I've come across, and I'm hoping eventually I'll even be able to incorporate some contests with real life giveaways. I want to talk about food, marriage, kids and writing. Especially the writing.

I don't know how soon this will happen, but I'm working on it. There are many reasons, but a big one is all about bringing some of the fun back.

In the meantime, here's a bit of trivia about me. I love hitting a farmer's market with $20 and a canvas shopping bag, leaving it with more fresh produce than I can easily carry. It makes me feel as if I've conquered something and I love having enough veggies in the house I have to find excuses to put them in everything, including breakfast. (Made a fantastic zucchini, squash, red onion, egg scramble this weekend)

Now excuse me, I'm off to try to blanch 4000 green beans.

We don't HAVE to tell my mother.

We've had some behavior issues with my daughter recently. Nothing we can't get around, but she's cranky and prone to meltdowns. We've adjusted nap and bed times accordingly and that helped a bit, but there was still something nagging as well as the feeling she just wasn't getting enough rest.

I think we've found part of the answer.

My dear, sweet girl has been getting out of her bed at nap time, grabbing books off her shelves and spending the majority of her nap time looking at the books instead of sleeping. Further, she's figured out that if she turns on the extra nightlight in her room at night, I can't tell from outside the room she's done it and she can look at her books for a while at night too.

I was notorious for reading by nightlight, flashlight and even opening my bedroom door after my parents were asleep to read by the light that came down the hall from the bathroom nightlight. One of my most vivid childhood memories is of being told it was time for bed and asking permission to finish the chapter I was reading in a Nancy Drew mystery. Mom agreed and I kept reading until she finally stopped me....a full two chapters later, as I was a fast reader and just had to push that limit. She finally made me go to bed, but I'll bet you can guess the first thing I did when I woke the next morning. I finished that book before breakfast when I'd only borrowed it the afternoon before.

She comes by it naturally.

Not the End.

Yesterday, I wrote:

The magnet on my fridge declares for all to read:

"Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end."

I'm exhausted, frustrated, spent and at my limit in almost every regard. I have hope things will get better, but better seems so far away right now. I haven't had a full day of rest since my hysterectomy, despite that being what I'm supposed to do. There hasn't been a day, including the day of my surgery, I haven't done something directly contradictory to doctor's orders for recuperation.

It's not that I'm being stubborn or willfully ignoring them, I just don't know what else to do. "

Then my son woke, smiled, cooed and babbled while I changed his diaper. I decided to put in some music while I fed him, and sang louder when I discovered my singing was making him laugh. When he was done eating, we danced. Despite my pain, regardless of how tired I was, I decided I was not going to let another day go by without dancing with my son.

An hour after that dance, I found out my foot is broken in two places, contrary to what I'd been told before. It wasn't just a torn ligament, and the suspected damage to the tendons is in fact there too. (Did I even mention this, that I stepped down shortly before my surgery and hurt myself? I don't remember) I go back in a month, I'm still wearing the same lovely boot I've been wearing for weeks, and if all goes well I will not need surgery. The bones are already trying to knit back together.

Several hours after the dance, I learned the cuff from my surgery is healing fairly well but showing signs of potentially being infected. (Pain, extreme tenderness, etc). So, once again, I find myself on antibiotics. At least I'm finding this out NOW. It's quite possible with as long as everything else went on, this is just the last little bit of ick left over.

I started my day frustrated, in a lot of pain, looking for a break and didn't mean in my foot.

By the end of the day, though I didn't feel I'd crossed anything off of my to-do list, I felt like a success. I danced with my son. I laughed with my daughter when she came home from school until our stomachs hurt. I did the "made of state" puzzle with her three times in a row, and marveled at her memory of the states, who lives where, where she's been.

I booked a flight for our family to go see my dear friend, at the end of this month, and I am over the moon.

So, while it isn't over, I'm healing. It's about freaking time.

What a crock.

Moved Heaven, Earth and way more weight than I was supposed to in order to get to my post-op appt only to find out my surgeon's nurse had cancelled my appointment. The receptionist didn't think I was supposed to be there, then saw it had been cancelled. They called the nurse up and she must have been having a bad day, as she acted as if I was an idiot for not knowing the surgeon schedules postops for a month after on hysterectomies.

I suspect this got messed up when they changed me from a laparoscopy to hysterectomy, but regardless of the reason I put a lot of effort into getting there and now I'm frustrated and in pain.

Oh, and having to wait until August 25th to get the rest of my answers.

I'll be back, after these short messages.

This afternoon I'll meet with my surgeon for my post-operative visit. He'll go over the details of the pathology, the pictures of the parts I can no longer call my own, go over what his nurse told me and those details he wanted to discuss with me personally.

I've already heard the word benign, several times. Gratitude is too small a word for hearing that term, but I didn't expect malignancy to be a worry. Now I just need the rest of the story.

It is my greatest hope this is the beginning of a new chapter, a return to the old normal....though I do not think I could have possibly come through this year unchanged. I just hope when the dust settles, the changes are mostly for the better.

A watched pot...boils over.

For more days than I care to tally, my emotions have been under scrutiny. Friends, family, doctors, acquaintances, my hairdresser, my counselor....all have watched, most have commented. I've made more jokes about the breakdown I was going to have "when all this is over" than can possibly be funny. Most have said I'm holding it together well, they are surprised I'm still standing, they wouldn't blame me for cracking just a little.



All the while, everything has been simmering just under the surface. Like a pot of water in the moments before the boiling point is reached, there has been a current underneath my daily thoughts and emotions. Some steam escaped, there were times I freaked out, choked up and broke down. Some came in the form of a good cry, an argument with my husband or a panic attack. A notable one occurred after I made the mistake of watching a video of a vaginal hysterectomy to satisfy my need to know what it involved. (It was not nearly as easy a video to handle as the one of a laparoscopic assisted supracervical hysterectomy....that one didn't leave me wanting to rock in the corner). I know it's likely not normal to want to watch those videos at all, but I needed to know. I panicked, and almost cancelled the surgery. Mostly, though, I've tried to hold it together by focusing on other things.


As it turns out, while I'm still in a considerable amount of pain and it's clear my recovery is going to take time, having the surgery was definitely needed. While I feel very rough right now, I can tell there is going to be improvement. After talking with the surgeon the morning they released me from the surgery center, I understand better what I was dealing with.


The pathology isn't back yet. We may or may not get more information from the study of my uterus, but what the surgeon was able to tell me was pretty amazing. To me, at least.


He said there was not a thing about my uterus that looked healthy. In fact, he described it as boggy, shriveled, lacking proper color and sick looking. He referred to our conversations where he asked me if I was sure I was done having children, sure I would not change my mind, and said based upon how my uterus looked it is unlikely I'd ever have conceived again. Even more unlikely I'd see another live birth, if I did conceive. We are extremely lucky to have our children.


The first bubble broke the surface of the water in that moment. The grief I have been fighting, denying, pushing down and trying to keep a lid on finally boiled over. All at once, the sadness of infertility, trying to conceive, the loss of two babies I have yet to properly acknowledge, my brother's murder, my pregnancy with my son, his birth, his illness after, my illness and the fear I'd have a surgery only to be told they couldn't find anything wrong just boiled over. I fear I may have scared the hell out of that poor man when I just started sobbing.


I tried to explain my relief at the notion this could all be over and the fears I'd had about the surgery, told him I'd been worried he'd come in and say something along the lines of "well, I took it out but I didn't really see any obvious problem. Maybe there will still be some pain relief, but I'm not sure."


He reassured me that it was very clear my uterus was quite sick, very obvious that I had to have been in a lot of pain and feeling awful with it looking that way and certain that had I not had it removed I'd have continued to hurt and feel sick. That was a validation for which I had not dared to hope.


It's not clear without the pathology whether it was just the infection that caused this damage, if my D & C earlier this year played a role or if there is something more. He mentioned the possibility of Adenomyosis, a condition where endometrial tissue penetrates and grows into the uterine muscle causing several symptoms - including chronic pain. I'm anxious to get the results back from the lab. It can be treated, but from what I've read it can't be completely resolved until menopause or with a hysterectomy.


I realize it was not entirely logical to worry there would be no obvious signs of a medical problem when the surgeon looked. I know in my heart that I was feeling pain, fatigue and a level of sickness I couldn't explain....but it seemed so strange there were times I worried I was losing it, or that others would think I was. Knowing something and knowing can be two different things.


I have a bit of extra time on my hands right now. Time where I'm not allowed to work, to busy my body with running around or taking on new tasks. I have to be still and in that stillness, the grief is bubbling to the surface. Bit by bit, I'm working on it.


Our church home, the church I was not able to attend for so long as it was outside of the radius allowed while I was experiencing preterm labor, is rebuilding its outdoor worship area. An elder has been handmaking benches, and all of them are done except one. The one my husband will help him make that will bear the names of our two babies that have yet to be fully acknowledged. This week we will call the elder with the first and middle names of the children whose feet never touched the ground, whose hands we never held. We will say their names out loud to another person who will literally set them in stone.

I watched the pot so carefully, afraid it would boil over when I wasn't looking, afraid I'd be trying to deal with this at a time when I simply could not. His timing, of course, is perfect. With an abundance of boiling water, time that cannot be spent on activity and a prescription for rest and hot tea it seems the perfect time to sort through all of this. If that were not irony enough, I actually received a written prescription for a device that would me take slow, deep breaths.

Someone is making sure I take care of myself now, and reminding me you can't really get cooking until the water boils anyway.

Surgery complete.

I'm updating on behalf of my dear friend and am happy to say that her surgery went well today. She didn't have many details when I spoke with her (and yes, I actually did get to talk to her in person, not just her husband, which was a happy surprise). I'm sure when she's ready, she'll post the details; when we talked she didn't know much other than the surgeon referred to her uterus as "shriveled." Not a nice word when you're talking about an internal organ. She was also able to keep her ovaries, which is great news, considering the last thing she needs is to have the major hormonal upheaval that losing those would entail.

When I talked to her, she sounded surprisingly good. The must be giving her the good drugs.

Thanks to everyone who has kept her in your thoughts and prayers. Please continue to pray that this finally does the trick and her poor body can heal. Healing and peace are something she and her family desperately need.