We all know how easy it is to fall into a routine and put ourselves on the back burner….
We all know how easy it is to fall into a routine and put ourselves on the back burner….
We all know how easy it is to fall into a routine and put ourselves on the back burner. Right?!
I’m guilty of it. I put myself on the backburner all the time. It’s like MOMLIFE 101. Today though, I want to chat with you about how to break that habit, easily and without spending a small fortune. You ready?! Yay! Me too! Start by taking this quiz.
Once you’ve taken the quiz, you’ll know what you need to do.
If not, I’ll lay it out for you… GO get dressed, get in the car, head to a store (grabbed mine from Walmart), grab that fragrance and then head back home to take a shower. Sounds a bit silly, huh?! But nope… that quiz will pair you with the fragrance that best suits you! And it won’t break the bank! It’s Suave!! Suave has been around for 75 years! Suave has provided high-quality, value products that work as well as premium brands. From shampoos, body washes, body lotions to deodorants, Suave has you every part of you covered and it won’t hurt your bank!
I recently took the quiz and it suggested that I give the “coconut butter & Shea” bodywash a try, so I did. It smells heavenly, you guys. I took one of those long, well deserved, hot showers that us moms can only seem to get
A: when our kids are old enough to take a shower without stressing that the house will burn down
B: Dad’s on duty. *wink*
Thankfully my kids are older. I never really thought that that would be something I’d be glad for – my kids aging I mean, but it means that I can shower and actually shower… none of that quick rinse, picking and choosing what to shave today, “do I wash my hair or no?!”… YAY, right?!
ER trip. Miscarriage. Methotrexate shots. Surgery.
Here’s the first part of my miscarriage story in case you missed it and need to catch up.
After being told that my body was handling it on it’s own, I went in for labwork the following Friday (December 2nd)… afterwards I headed to pick up Owen early from preschool because I was worn out and my heart hurt. Right before I pulled into the parking lot, my phone rang… it was the nurse with my lab results. My levels had gone from 700 up to 900. “This is definitely not what I expected to see” she said to me. She then told me that I needed to come back in ASAP. My body wasn’t handling the miscarriage on it’s own like I was originally informed. I cried when I got off the phone with her. I cried a lot. I grabbed Owen. His teacher tried to ask me if everything was OK, but after taking a look at my face just sent us on our way.
David met us up there, he took Owen while I talked with the nurse. Since my levels were rising still, something needed to be done. I could either go upstairs for surgery or I could get a shot to stop the growth.
I opted for the shot. Methotrexate is a low dose form of chemotherapy. Isn’t that scary?! A few hours later, it was prepared for me and I received one in each butt cheek. The next few days were a total blur. David had to pick the kids up from school, then come back to the hospital (30 minutes away) to pick me up. It was snowy and messy and just a crappy day.
Following the shot, I had to go in for labs again on Monday and then Thursday. On Monday they’d risen to 1300 which is normal, it should rise and then drop. On Thursday, I went in for labs and a Dr Appt (late because of a snow day and the Air Force Academy’s hospital was closed for a training holiday so just add that to this whole mess). I finally made it down to Ft Carson’s OBGYN clinic to be told that things were looking good… my levels had dropped more than the 15% they hoped for… they’d dropped by like 30%. I was pleased with that. It meant that I didn’t need a second dose of Methotrexate and it meant that this was finally ending.
I can’t even tell you the amount of times that I’ve cried or just zoned out or felt the crush of losing this baby. Having to get shots in my butt to stop the growth after being told that my body was handling it just about did me in. Just the idea of agreeing to shots to stop the growth killed me inside.
Fast forward….. the bleeding has finally stopped, the pain is subsiding, the pregnancy symptoms are settling down… all is looking up.
Then Saturday and Sunday (the 10-11) I started to feel a little… off. I thought maybe I’d just overdone it and I thought I had some gas pains (the shots give you weird symptoms). I took it easy, and thought it’d be fine.
On Monday the 12th, I woke up to take Owen to school. I showered, put some makeup on, did my hair and was feeling pretty good…. right up until we got in the car. I started getting this intense pain. I was sweating, I had goosebumps. I thought, “okay… finally just need to use the bathroom”. I parked the car and turned to get out and gasped from the pain. I got Owen inside & called David crying. Once I got home, I emailed the nurse line (and then went to pick up poor Fin from school because he wasn’t feeling well). David came home early and grabbed Owen for me. I took some Percocet that I’d been given in the ER when this all started (back on Owen’s 5th birthday, November 28th) The nurse called me and told me to come in just to be safe.
We already had Fin with us because he wasn’t feeling well and school sent him home. So David swung by and grabbed Maddie from school too on our way up to the hospital.
I had to stop by for labs, then wait and wait and wait some more. I was a walk-in appointment. We got there around 1pm and I was finally seen around 3:30/4. David picked up the kids, everything was fine. It wasn’t a big deal to hang out and wait. I knew with a walk-in appointment that I’d be waiting. I didn’t know I’d be sitting across from an overly loud couple & one of their mothers listening to them hoping it wasn’t twins…. hoping for someone to take the other baby for a couple of years if it was.
There should seriousy be a seperate room for women going through this instead of having to sit there surrounded by happily pregnant people making comments that they don’t even know are horrible.
My DR of the day did an internal ultrasound to try to figure out where the pain was coming from. I thought I was just seriously constipated from the medication. He said that the ultrasound looked a bit confusing and sent me to radiology for an outer & inner ultrasound.
My ultrasound tech had a DR pop his head in and based on what they were saying, I was bleeding internally.
She wheeled me back to my Doctor where David & the kids were also waiting for me. That’s when I was informed that my tube had ruptured and they were going to admit me for surgery. By this time it was 5:30pm, I was sore and tired and so were David & the kids.
David took the kids home and got them settled and ready for bed. I was wheeled upstairs, quickly hooked up to things and quickly checked in. Surgery started at about 7pm and I was back in my room at midnight. I had no idea what had even happened. The Dr said he wouldn’t know what was up until he actually got inside. Everything was so up in the air. I was so scared. I had no idea what would happen, how long I’d be in the hospital… everything just depended on what I looked like inside. This was absolutely terrifying and I was completely alone. Seriously, I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. This whole experience has been devastating.
The next morning, he told me that he took part of my left fallopian tube out and that my right side was also messed up.
If I were to get pregnant again, it’d be an ectopic. No more babies for me. I was able to go home that afternoon.
It’s now Wednesday and I’m sitting on my couch updating this. My body hurts. My stomach hurts, my throat hurts from the tube, my hand hurts from the IV, my arm hurts from all the labwork (which I still have to continue once a week until my levels hit zero). And I get to follow up with my DR in 1-2 weeks to discuss birth control. On a bright note, he said if I were to start taking birth control now, it’d help later on dwn the road when it came time for me to go through Menapause. Awesome, huh?! I can’t have more babies, my tube ruptures, and we’re discussing menapause.
My body hurts, my heart hurts. On one hand, I’m glad to know about the other tube so that we don’t go through this again, but at the same time it was such a crushing thing to hear. I wish I’d have just opted for the surgery from the get go and skipped the shots. And I’d been bleeding for who knows how long. It was slow and steady, but thankfully it became painful enough that I went in. I’m thankful it was caught in time before it got worse, but how insane. How scary.
This is so all over the place, I’m sorry for that… I’m just trying to keep things sort of straight and update while I can.
November 28th… Owen’s 5th birthday was when I ended up in the Emergency room. November 30th is when I heard that my body was handling it on it’s own. At this point nobody knew if it was ectopic or a miscarriage. December 2nd is when my levels went up and I received the shots. December 12th I was rupturing and admitted to surgery.
This really is just never-ending. It’s like a day to day nightmare. As soon as I start to feel OK, something else happens. At least now it’s removed and I should heal up. But how devastating. How heartbreaking. How painful. And then I hear that I can’t even try again if I wanted to.
No baby #4 for us. Ever. I just wish I could’ve found that out without going through all of this…. without losing a pregnancy, without bleeding internally, without getting excited to have a baby.
I’ll be alright. We’ll be alright. Time heals is what I hear. I’m not even sure if I’ve processed the information about my right tube yet. The surgery happened so quickly, the past few days have been such a blur, who am I kidding… the past few weeks have been such a blur.
Thank you all for your continued support, prayers, thoughts, and love.
You have no idea how much your words have meant to us and have helped us through this heartbreaking time.
Much love to you all.
Why I stopped following you on social media.
I woke up the other day and reached for my phone like I normally do before I roll out of bed for the day. I browsed through Facebook, checked my Twitter notifications, and then started browsing Instagram. I browsed and browsed past some friends pictures of their kids all dressed up for Dr Seuss week, I scrolled past breakfast photos, great quotes, funny pictures, and sale after sale… All of the sudden, I was running late for the day. Crap! While rushing to wake up my poor, sleepy kids, I cursed myself for spending so much time browsing past pictures, most of which I didn’t even really have that much interest in anymore. I had even lost my place on Instagram and I wasn’t even done scrolling through. I wasn’t even all caught up. So I decided that once the kids were up and out the door, and after I caught up on a few household chores that I would sit right down and clean up my feeds.
Please don’t take it personally, Baby Moccasins account. I think your little shoes are adorable, but I have no babies and don’t need your sales.
Jewelry makers! Oh how I adore each and every piece of jewelry you post! It’s absolutely gorgeous, but I don’t wear very much jewelry so while I find your handcrafted jewelry pretty amazing, I just see no point in sacrificing those precious minutes on something that isn’t really something that I’m interested in.
I mean nothing when I click “unfollow”. I simply just want to spend those few minutes in my early morning wake ups browsing photos of friends, people I know and love, people that inspire me, poeple that push me to be better person. I really hope you can understand that.
Friend of a friend from a million years ago, I’m not sorry that I unfriended you. All you posted was random drama about your life that I know NOTHING about, I just see no point in keeping that on my newsfeed. I’m a little bit sorry that your life is just “awful”, but I have my own problems and worries and I simply do not need to hear all the details of yours.
Twitter friend that only retweeets other people or only tweets in a foreign language that I don’t speak- unfollow. I don’t and won’t have the time to translate your tweets that probably aren’t important to me. I mean no offense by it, but I’m simply just cleaning up my feeds.
Celebrities. While I adore some celebrities, I really don’t keep up with their day to day lives, I only enjoy them for their acting in movies that I love. I don’t really need to keep up with them on social media to enjoy their movies.
I’ve unfollowed over 1000 people between Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. And I’m not even done yet, some slipped through the cracks during the first clean. Isn’t it crazy how quickly you end up following just everyone and anyone?
And do you know what I’ve learned from all of my “cleaning up”?! I’ve learned that each morning I easily catch up on my feeds. And, because I have extra time to spare now that my feeds are smaller, I found myself engaging more with my friends. I take the time to actually look through photo albums that get posted on Facebook instead of just scrolling past them and quickly clicking “Like”. I comment on more photos than I used to. I actually care about what is being posted and what I’m seeing so I take the time to engage. I enjoy my morning catching up a lot more.
My phone is on silent and flipped upside down so that I can’t see incoming messages and/or phone calls. My face is red and my eyes are puffy, I’ve been crying. David and I had a fight. I already don’t even remember what it was about. I’m mad, he’s mad. We’ll get over it, we always do.
Over the course of our millions of years together, there have been days that I just want to throw in the towel. There have been days that I’ve been so mad that I’ve looked up divorce lawyers.
There have been days that I’ve looked at houses in other places and made budgets on what I could afford on my own.
I’m sure there will more days like this.
Marriage is not easy, friends. It’s not always rainbows and butterflies. It’s hard. It’s a lot of work. It’s painful. It’s real.
There are days that I scream and cry, and then there are days that I can’t wait til he gets home from work and we can just cuddle on the couch and binge watch whatever show we’re currently on.
From the get go, we’ve said that the only way out is in a pine box. We knew when we got married that this was it. We loved each other then and still do today. But it’s not always easy. I don’t think he poops out glitter and I’m sure he doesn’t think that about me.
It takes work. It’s hard. Throw in 3 kids, 2 dogs, a cat… it gets a bit harder.
Throw in him sometimes being gone for long periods of time.
Throw in deployments.
Throw in nights that he’s stuck at work all night long.
Throw in moving around a lot. Throw in knowing nobody and having no family near.
Throw in a sick kid (or 3).
Throw in dog puke.
Or cat liter being eaten.
Or a dog barking for the millionth time.
Or a kid asking to sleep in your room.
It’s a lot of work.
It’s rewarding, I wouldn’t want to do life with anyone else, but that doesn’t mean it’s always easy breezy.
I hope I never give off the impression that we’re all rainbows and butterflies because we’re not.
That’s jut not life. I want to be very real. I never want to come across as a fake person or like I’m pretending to be something I’m not.
I hope that you’ve never thought that about me and/or my life.
I want people to know that when they read something from me, or see a picture, that it’s a good moment, that it’s real and that I wanted to share with the world, but I don’t want anyone to ever think that our life is perfect or that I’m putting on some front. Life is life, guys. It’s hard sometimes. It takes work. It’s rewarding and amazing but it’s not always easy or perfect.
So please, next time you see me post a happy go lucky picture, remember this post — remember that I’m puffy eyed & snot nosed because of a stupid fight with my “perfect” husband.
Guys, I’ve gotta be real with you. (This post is kind of gross).
I’m getting a tummy tuck.
In fact depending on when you read this, I’m probably knocked out and getting it now.
When Fin was born, I just thought I’d give birth & eventually get back to normal(ish) size. But when they needed to do an emergency c-section, all of that went right out the window. When sewing up my crooked scar, he pulled a corner too tight & one side of my scar sinks in more than the rest.
4 months later we found out we were pregnant with Maddie. My poor body wasn’t even 100% healed up yet and it’s already growing another baby.
She was a planned c-section but back to back pregnancies and back to back c-sections just did a number on me.
With Maddie’s he had to cut out excess scar tissue that had built up behind my scar (grossest sound I’ve ever heard) but that didn’t help my scar any. It made it sink in a bit more. He did try to even out the cut itself though, so that was nice of him.
A few years later, Owen came a long. My 3rd c-section.
Because of all of them, I have so much loose skin that literally just HANGS over my scar. My scar stays damp unless I literally lift the skin to let it air out.
Because it stays damp, (especially living in the very hot & humid South), it gets itchy. I scratch it raw without even realizing that I’m doing it because it’s numb & I can’t feel myself relieving the itch.
You can click here to view a side view & front view. – I’m in a bra & shorts but you can see what I mean about it literally just hanging over everything.
It hangs over my scar, where my pants/underwear hit.
I usually pull my pants up over it leaving me with that dreaded mom gut.
It’s not pretty.
And I usually end up looking pregnant in most clothing.
But in all honesty, the looks aside (don’t get me wrong, it’ll be AMAZING to look better) the issues it causes me is ultimately why we’re getting it done.
I’ve had fitness buffs tell me that there’s no working it off.
I’ve had health nuts tell me the same.
I have muscle damage. And a LOT of it.
I could do all the workouts in the world & I’d still have the skin just hanging there.
The Dr doing the surgery at my initial consult, looked at me, lifted my chunk of flappy skin to see my scar & told me I was the perfect candidate for a tummy tuck.
I feel like there was more I was going to add to this but it’s 6am, I need to wake the boys up and get them ready to go.
Wish me luck, guys.
I’ll be sure to update you along the process of healing & share after photos with you (probably to that same photobucket album so they’re not just here and in the full open on the blog).
I’m a bit nervous (and by bit, I mean a lot). I’m nervous to even post this. But overall, I’m excited to get it done, to look and feel better. I’m excited to not worry about scratching myself raw or the ingrown hairs or the rashes and breakouts I’d get under the skin (so gross, for real).
Let me know if you have any questions & I’ll happily try to answer them for you when I can.
So this happened Sunday night…
Come Monday, it looked like this:
So David took me to the ER.
They said I tore some ligaments, splintted me up, gave me crutches, and 3 days of bedrest.
Let’s try to remember here that I have three kids and David’s the one that works.
Poor David’s been nonstop since Monday.
Goes to work on his bike, comes home, gets the kids up and ready for school while doing dishes and laudnry, takes them to school in the Durango, comes home, gets Owen up, feeds him, heads back to work on his bike, comes home, gets the Durgano, gets Maddie from school, feeds us, lays Owen down, take bike back to work, comes home, swaps out vehicles, gets Fin from school, brings him home, gets Owen up from his nap, takes bike back to work, comes home, does dinner, puts kids to bed – all while I just sit here or lay here like a lump on a log.
After taking the splint off and pocking around, it’s still swollen even though I’m doing everything right.
It’s still really sore. Like I’m still taking the pain pills they gave me at the ER.
I’m on day 5 of this.
I haven’t had a decent cup of coffee all week because I can’t get up to make it and don’t want to ask David to get it for me.
In reality, I should be jumping for joy at the idea of sitting around being a bum, but I feel so bad for him.
He’s running himself ragged taking care of everything while still bouncing back and forth to and from work.
But you guys, it’s not fun.
I feel terrible for David. He busts his butt when he’s not picking up my slack.
The poor man is just exhausted by the time he gets home from work when he’s not doing my part too.
I know it’s not my fault, he knows it’s not my fault, but I just feel so awful about the whole thing.
Aside from basically being bored to tears most of the day, I just feel so useless.
I’ve cried like a bajillion times just out of frustration and pain.
I tried to shower the other day and oh my goodness, that was brutal.
Going up the stairs, down the stairs – nightmare.
David wakes me up in the morning and has me come downstairs when he gets up and ready for work so that he’s here to help me down them.
Getting dressed, going to the bathroom, everything is just a chore.
I’m an emotional exhausted wreck that feels awful for her running around like a headless chicken.
If you need me, I’ll be sitting (or laying) on the couch wallowing in my own self pity.
(this post is somewhat funny, somewhat serious just so you know. i know that i’m lucky it wasn’t worse and lucky to have david but at the same time it’s just such a sucky situation so just bear with me and my pity party, please and thanks)