Sick and tired of being sick and tired

I have been sick since Christmas day. That, my dears, is almost 2 weeks…14 days of feeling like caca. I’m going to the doc in a little while, so we’ll see what he says but I’m ready to do a headectomy or maybe even a neckectomy. Sure, I wouldn’t be much fun to be around but I betcha I’d finally feel better!

Sean left yesterday and I was one of those girls that cried when he walked out the door. How sad is that? It’s not like he’ll be gone for a long time, just until Sunday and I even have plans myself it just hit me though. It seems like since we moved we’ve been so distant from each other. Stressing about the move, new job, finances, kids being sick, all of the family being sick and then the holidays have just taken a toll on us as a couple right now. When he gets home we WILL find a sitter, he’s already been asking around his coworkers if they know anyone, and we WILL go on a date. Y’all, I haven’t had a date with my husband in years and that’s not an exaggeration, it’s the honest truth. I miss him and I miss adult time. I miss eating without a kid throwing food or screaming. I miss sitting at a table that isn’t huge. I miss going to see a non-kid movie and holding hands in the theater. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids 110% (usually) and would die without them but I need time to connect with the person that gave me those kids. I totally believe that spending time away from them will make me a better mom.

Anyway, enough whining. I’m headed to the doc in a bit. Then this weekend I’m going to have FUN!

A friend

I have a friend whom I met almost 10 years ago, yet I’ve only ever seen her in person two times. We met on an online message board about pregnancy and infant loss. I was mourning the loss of Avery and wasn’t sure where to turn or what to do or how to think or…well, you get the idea, I was lost. In some sick way it was a comfort reading about these other ladies that were going through something similar to what I was, see; I wasn’t the only one dealing with this.

I’m not sure what made me read her story but I felt a blow to my gut when I read her story. Her full term son was born with an umbilical cord issue (I won’t even try to explain it), he lived for a few days and died in his mother’s arms. I felt so sorry for her that she and her hubby had to decide to disconnect life support for their son. I felt that she was going through something so much worse than I was. I sat and wondered what would be easier; a stillborn whom you never get to see alive or a full term baby who is a live for days (weeks, months) and you have to decide when the “right” time to say goodbye is.

The first time we met we sat up drinking, laughing and bawling by a hotel pool. We had this instant connection, something all the other mommy’s there with us couldn’t understand. I told her how I felt, how awful I felt for her. We hugged and cried and laughed and drank some more. She told me later something that I’ll never forget;

It does not matter how long you know your child; if you see them breathing, if they talk to you or if you feel them in your womb, they are still your child and it still hurts like hell when they leave.

So true.

So, here’s to Corbyn, my friend’s baby boy. He would be 10 years old today. You’ve touched more lives than you know and I thank you. Now, enjoy your birthday cake with Avery and Jackson for me.

Guess what this is?

A blog post! Can you even believe it?

Well, you shouldn’t. I was going to sit and blog like a good girl but just don’t have the energy right now. In the past 2 wks we’ve moved, cleaned the hell out of a nasty house, tried to get out of the “I’m moving into a house I don’t like” funk, drove 5 hrs to my sister (yeah!), then drove another 3 hrs to scrapbook all weekend, scrapbooked all weekend, drank wine like I was in a race to see who would finish the bottle first, nursed a hangover the next day while riding 3 hrs back to Sis’ house, then woke up the next day and drove another 5 hrs back home. I’m now back in the routine of mommy-hood, cleaning house and being a housewife and you know what…I’M EXHAUSTED.

I promise a real post this week, I need to catch you up on all the goings on from the past 2 wks; the fun stuff, the not-so-fun stuff and the REALLY shitty stuff.

 

Arg, there be a pirate party!

Man oh man, was this weekend a great one!? 

Jaylon’s first birthday party was on Saturday at his Gramma’s house.  It was wonderful! 

The weekend kicked off on Friday, sitting on the back porch with family, a few glasses of wine and grilled out hamburgers.  Laughter, talking, gossip, laughter, catching up on family, and did I mention laughter and wine?  It was such a beautiful evening and a perfect Friday night if you ask me.  Jay didn’t go to sleep until 10-ish then we drove to my mother-in-law’s house where he was finally put in bed and asleep for good at 11:30.  He usually goes to bed at 6, so yeah, cranky butt!

Saturday was spent getting ready for the party.  My mom is the most amazing person ever and my stepdad, well, he’s just as amazing.  They came over and took a good 3 hrs or so putting the cakes together.  These cakes….AWE-SOME! But we’ll get to those in a minute.  The party began at 4 and we gave Jay his smashable cake.  He just looked at it.  We sang “Happy Birthday” to him (and as a side-note, I didn’t even cry, thankyouverymuch!) and he almost broke his neck to turn around to see what all the fuss was about!

Mom had to show him what to do with the cake and he just picked at it.  Finally got a little piece of chocolate icing and ate it right up.  He never took a hunk out of the cake or even smashed it…just kept picking at it eating little flecks of icing.  He is not my child!

Ma finally gave him a hunk of it and he grabbed it and put it all in his mouth.  I’m still not sure how he didn’t choke but he managed to get it all down.  We did take his shirt off him before the cake and I’m glad we did.  He rubbed the icing all over his belly…it was cute!

We had to leave after the cake since my Sis and brother-in-law had to leave.  We ate dinner and came back to the house to open presents.  The boy racked up and is still enjoying all the new toys.  He’s not sure what to play with first and just crawls from all the goodies.

Even with the lack of sleep he had that day he was such a good baby.  He was happy, he enjoyed playing with all the cousins and Kenna enjoyed helping open the presents!

Now, let’s discuss these cakes.  The first one, the smashable one, was a treasure chest; complete with jewels, coins and gold!  Talk about adorable and perfect for his individual cake!

Ahem…THE cake.  I am always in awe of my mom’s abilities especially when it comes to making cakes.  She’s made cakes since I can remember, only doing them for friends and family. She always says that you couldn’t pay her enough to make them professionally but she so could do it!  This cake was the pirate ship complete with the Captain and his crew.  She even made a damn parrot, people!  Each pirate was moulded after the cousins.  Jay was the Captain then you’ll see my nephew, Brett; Kenna; my nephew, Braden; and my niece, Breanna.  The wood on the ship looked like wood.  The sails were amazing, she even downloaded font that looked “pirate-ish” to write Happy Birthday on it.  And there’s even a freakin’ shark in the water!

I can’t believe that my baby’s 1st birthday party was this weekend with his big day tomorrow.  I’ll write about his actual birthday tomorrow…and cry, so I’ll be sure to have tissues by the computer!  Until then, enjoy the pics!

Slideshow design generated with Smilebox

Gets me every time!

Sean and I met on a blind date in January 1999.  Just four months later we were engaged.

I didn’t think it was possible when we got married to love him more than I did then.  I was wrong.  Seeing him with our kids, seeing what a wonderful man/husband/father he’s become and watching him reach his goals makes me so proud to be his wife.  He turns me on when he wears his slacks, shirt and tie for work but then I think he’s hot when he’s wearing his softball practice ratty shorts and t-shirt.  I love his ass and how any time it’s near me I have to slap it.  I love his sense of humor, that’s what attracted me to him first.  He’s a quiet guy at first but once he opens up the laughter rarely ends.  I love his Forest Gump, his Sling Blade and any other voice he can do.  The looks he gives me sometimes are priceless and most make my knees weak.  We won’t even talk about his calves or how he hates it when I tweak his nipples (LOL)…swoooon!

But what really gets me…the one thing that every time I see it makes my ovaries spazz…the one image that makes me tear up every single time:

 

Seeeeee!  It’s that look; that crooked half-smile, the twinkle in his eye, the tuft of chest hair that Jay now pulls and the fact that he’s holding his newborn son. UGH…gets me every FRICKIN’ time, this picture!

I’m obese…

I live in one of the fattest cities in America and I add to that statistic.  My name is Melanie and my BMI is 37%, making me morbidly obese.

I was a thin girl growing up. I was active and I danced, a lot.  My high school years I cheered and was an average looking girl. I was ok with how I looked then.  In college, when we got married I weighed 135lbs and danced 5 days a week sometimes for 4+hrs a day, no not THAT type of dance people, get your heads outta the gutter!.  I loved my legs, my dancers legs.  I didn’t much care for my “tummy” but I liked the way I looked in my leo and tights and didn’t mind being in them.  Then the happiness and pregnancies began.

You all know that “I’m happy where I am in my life, I got my man so I don’t care if I gain a little weight”…I was there.  When I got pregnant with Avery, I gained the 25lbs and never lost it.  The depression that came with losing a baby just added to my eating and I was bigger than I ever had been before.  I  got pregnant with Kenna and the weight just piled on again.  I was 190-ish lbs and was embarrassed by my weight.  When Kenna was 2 I started going to LA Weight Loss.  As much as I hated dieting it worked for me and the pounds started flying off, I mean 4-5 sometimes more lbs a week!  I got down to 160, close to my 140lb goal weight.  I felt good. I was shopping in the “normal” sized girl clothing stores again.  It showed, and my husband noticed…knocking me up! LOL

Jackson’s pregnancy was no different from the others weight wise.  The lbs just started snowballing and when he was born I was back into the 180-190s.  The depression was so bad after he was born food was comforting to me.  It was my crutch.

My leg injury helped me become sedentary.  Walking hurt, moving hurt…the bed became my friend.  I saw my weight balloon.

When Jaylon’s pregnancy started I was over 200lbs and sick from the beginning.  I think having the hyperemesis was my body’s way of saying “dude, you CANNOT gain another 30lbs with this pregnancy, you’ll die!”.  In a way I’m thankful I puked the entire time and had Gestational Diabetes, because of those I LOST 30lbs during his pregnancy.  When he was born I felt good.  Not great, hell I was still 190, but better than I had in years.  I was determined to get the weight off.

I didn’t.

Today, according to my Wii Fit, I am 220lbs again.  And I’m crying as I type that.

My husband was a big boy in high school and college.  Through sheer willpower he lost over 100lbs, started lifting weights and was even featured in Muscle and Fitness magazine.  I know he’s disappointed in me but I also know that he will support me and help me in any way he can.

Please don’t judge me, I do enough of that myself.  I hate feeling the way I do and hate looking how I do too.  I rarely look at myself in the mirror and sometimes picture myself as the “old skinny me”.  When I do catch a glimpse of my reflection I’m taken aback.  The legs I see are not mine, these have dimples and cottage cheese.  This tummy that I try to cover with big shirts and jeans isn’t what I remember.  It’s huge, I look 7 months pregnant.  And don’t get me started on the chins where I used to have one.  Finding clothes is almost impossible.  I have to shop in the big girl section and even then they don’t fit right.   It’s impossible to find a shirt that looks good and covers the back fat I have gained.  My arms don’t look good in certain short-sleeved shirts but I live in the equator (not quite but close) during the summer and long sleeves just won’t work.

I have NO will power.  I love to eat.  Everything in my family, even when I was growing up, revolves around “when are we going to eat” or “what are we eating”?  I’m a chocoholic and love anything with sugar.  I’m addicted to pop and eat when I’m bored.

If I do not get a handle on this Type II diabetes is soon to follow, if I don’t already have it.  I won’t be around to see grandkids.  I know my knees and ankles will feel better too.

I’m ready to feel good about myself again.  I’ve joined SparkPeople, it’s a site to help you lose weight.  I figured I’d sign up and log in a few times then quit, but I’m really enjoying it.  You input what you’ve eaten and it comes up with a calorie/fat/protein count.  You can also record how much water you’ve drunk and how many minutes you’ve worked out.  There are message boards filled with people who are going through what you are.

Today was day 1 for me. I haven’t had a pop today (and it’s almost 8pm!) and have had my 8 glasses of water!  I worked out with my Wii Fit for 11 minutes and took a walk today with Jay for 15.  My ankle is killing me but I’ve got to get some exercise somehow.  I have consumed just a little over 1200 calories today and I’m not hungry.  I need to find more protein but other than that I have a pretty good idea of what I can or can’t eat.  I will also have a cheat day every week.  That’s from my hubby and I agree. If you deny yourself all the time you’re more apt to fall off the wagon.  If I allow myself a day or a meal that I eat a treat then hopefully that will help me stay on this for the long-haul.

So, please stick with me.  Support me, not by saying “oh, you shouldn’t have eaten that” or looking at me with that look when I eat a fuckin’ funnel cake next weekend.  Support me with an occasional “oh, you look good” or “you’re doing a great job” even if I’m slipping a little.

Pretty soon, I won’t be a statistic anymore.

I have a 9 year old angel

February 22, 2001.  It’s amazing how a day that was 9 years ago still brings tears to my eyes.  I remember it and the days leading up to it like it just happened.

Earlier that month I had gone to Florida to take the dance team I was coach of to Nationals.  I was 24-ish weeks pregnant.  We we came back I had a slight head cold and just felt blah.  Finally I just didn’t feel “right” and called my doc.  I was told to come in to make sure all was ok.  By this time I was 25wks and 6 days pregnant.  They did the doppler and found no heartbeat, and ultrasound was done and showed no flicker of a heart.  Luckily Sean was there with me because I was devastated.  We were told to have another ultrasound tomorrow to make sure our first baby girl had indeed died.

I remember calling my mom and telling her that her first granddaughter was gone.  They immediately got in the car and came to be with us.  I called my co-worker who came over to help me clean the house a smidge and to be there with us until my mom got there.

The next morning we had the ultrasound and the tech said the worst words any mother could ever hear, “I’m sorry”.  The doc told us we had a couple options; wait until my body realized that something wasn’t right and I went into labor on my own or to be induced.  We chose induction the next day since I wanted the experience over.

We went to the hospital in the morning.  Wednesday the 21st we started the induction.  Finally by that night nothing much was happening so we stopped the meds so I could eat and rest that night.  The next day we started up again and it went faster.  Delivering a 26wk baby, I didn’t need to be dilated to 10 and by the afternoon something had changed and the baby was coming out!  I was being wheeled into the delivery room and I couldn’t stop her from coming.  I remember asking for a hand to hold, I needed someone to hold my hands.  In that instant both hands were being held by my mom on one side and my sis on the other.  I needed them and they were there.  Sean couldn’t be in the delivery room since he didn’t want to see the baby (and he’s still never seen her).  Right then out Avery slid, amniotic sac still intact and all.  She weighed 1lb and was 12 inches long.

It was after the delivery is what I don’t really recall.  We planned her little funeral, held her and said our goodbyes.  The next day I was released and we went home to get ready for her funeral which was that day.

I remember her funeral but that’s about all for that day.  We got our dog Hopie then too.  Sean thought she would help me work through my grief and she did, that’s for sure.  I went back to work in about a week but was in a fog for quite a while.

I don’t remember when the fog lifted enough for me to function.  I don’t remember when I smiled again.  I don’t remember when I laughed again.  But it happened.  Then McKenna happened; we got pregnant with her around the 4th of July that same year.

My life, our lives, will never be the same.  Losing our daughter was horrible and I wouldn’t wish that pain on even my worst enemy, but Avery made me who I am today and taught me that life is precious and fragile.  I’d never go through another pregnancy the same either.   Her body is buried in Amarillo, her brother is next to her, but her spirit is watching over us every day.

McKenna BoBenna

Oh, my McKenna.  I don’t even know where to start with her sometimes.  She’s so frustrating and I know it’s just going to get worse as she gets older.  I thought I had a few more “attitude free” years but NOPE!  I ask her to do something and she huffs and puffs and slams her door.  She throws herself on the floor in a fit of crying and screaming.  I constantly hear “ughs”, “humpfs”, and “uuughs” out of her and it’s not getting better.

But, aside from the McKenna that makes me want to pull out my hair and run screaming into the street, there’s the sweet Kenna that I don’t want to see grow up.   She can tell the most wonderful stories, tell the most awfully unfunny jokes (but you gotta laugh!) and give some of the best hugs I’ve ever been lucky enough to receive.

She always used to ask me when she would become a big sister.  When she was old enough I finally told her that she was a big sister already.  I remember her looking at me like I had grown a 2nd head, she didn’t understand.  I told her the story of Jackson, told her that Momma was pregnant before but her baby brother was in heaven along with her big sister.  Somehow, in her 5-year-old mind, she understood.  She hugged me as I cried telling ther the story.  She’s even seen her baby brother’s picture.  I won’t let her see Avery’s picture yet.  Avery had been gone longer than Jackson, so she looked “dead”.  I don’t want her to see that and feel that pain; not yet, not ever.  But Jackson looked asleep and she asked to see him, so I said ok.  She handled it very well.  I told her that he looked just like her, just like Avery did too, and now just like Jaylon.  She smiled and handed back the picture and wiped a tear from my cheek.

She’s always been the “motherly” type.  That became even more apparent when Jaylon was born.  She wanted to hold him, feed him, change him, get him dressed and even bathe him.  She even changed his diaper when he was a few weeks old!  I didn’t realize it until she exclaimed how proud she was, and honestly she did damn good!

Jaylon loves it when his Big Sister comes into the room.  He smiles and jumps or giggles or just makes happy baby sounds.  It melts my heart because I know how much she wanted to be a Big Sister to a baby on earth.

I say all the time how much Jay has completed our family; that he is what we needed.  But honestly, I think he completed McKenna more than we’ll ever know!

Our house…dude, OUR HOUSE!

Ah, it's crazy.  I've been waiting on this day for a while, well, since we saw the house.  Actually I take that back, it's been longer.  I've always thought that when I got married we'd have a house, our own house, but that didn't happen.  With my husband's job and stupid mistakes from many years ago we've had to rent.  Our marriage, 8+ years strong, has had way too many shitty things happen.  There's only one bright spot that comes to mind and that was 3/14/02 when Kenna was born.  Each year brought tears, heartache and pain.  Even through that we still laughed and dreamed.

Finally, one of our dreams came true today.  We closed on our first house and were given the keys to the future.  I admit, I cried.  Not a sad cry but an OMG I can't believe something good happened, something happened that was "supposed" to happen.  An excited cry, one of those that you just can't hold in or you're going to burst…and you know what…

it felt GOOD!

 

Read and post comments |
Send to a friend

Psych eval

Well today was my Psych eval for the SCS.  I really like this doc, he specializes in chronic pain and depression that comes with it.  We dove way into my history, ie where I was from, what age was I when my parents divorced, etc.  I never knew it was going to be so deep.  I cried and finally opened up, which the doc was pretty happy about it.  He said he knew it was hard to open up about all kinds of stuff to someone you just met but he was very supportive.  He was also totally amazed that I've only seen a councelor 2x, after the death of Jackson.  He wants to see if he can get approval for 8 sessions because he feels like after this SCS or even to fight the chronic pain I need to work on my depression, which I agree. 

He was so easy to talk to and it was like he totally understood what I was feeling and what the pain was like.  Luckily I have my sis and other family to talk to about the pain, but the only one to understand chronic pain is Sis, since she deals with it.  Everyone else can just listen (which is awesome and I'm glad I have it), but they don't KNOW what it's like to live with.  It's nice to now have two people in my corner that understand.

He approved me for the SCS, now it's just waiting to see if the Work Comp will allow it.  I did tell him I was worried about having a TENS like unit placed in my back when the real TENS unit on my ankle/foot hurts like hell.  He said to talk to my pain doc, so I will soon about that.

So, here's to hoping that we get something approved and this works.

Read and post comments |
Send to a friend