Controllable and Out of Control

One of my favorite street art finds from Tybee Island.

It's been an amazing week of vacation--mind, body, and soul are feeling refreshed and ready to take on the end of the school year. May will be busy as heck with field trips, testing, Girls on the Run, and other end of the year activities. June holds 5th grade graduation, a color run,  and packing up the room for the end of the year. It's been a long one, and I'm really looking forward to summer. It will be nice to be a different kind of busy with my summer job, and being able to work my second job more regularly.

I am also looking forward to starting a new journey as soon as next week: Weight Watchers. I think this will be the most difficult thing to blog about, as I am feeling incredibly self conscious about it. A brief history will show that I've struggled with myself self esteem throughout my life, with some high highs and low lows. 

I will forever be the person who looks back at old pictures and wishes to be the kind of fat she thought she was in college, high school, etc. 

I had hit a pretty good stride for a while in the last couple of years. I dropped 20lbs before we got married by counting calories, and another 10 came off when I went on a headache medication that also conveniently suppressed my appetite. Since then, nearly three years ago, I have put back on 40lbs. My clothes don't fit right, mirrors are the enemy, and I'm in one of those low lows. And I can't figure it out. I feel like I eat pretty well. Did it happen during marathon training when I was eating all the time to keep up with the demands on my body? I definitely didn't lose any weight like I thought I would. 

Regardless, I need help. I need something different. My self control isn't fantastic, so I'm hoping with some accountability and the sense of accomplishment as I start to see results, I'll be able to do it. I have to do it. I can't keep feeling like this. 

So those are the things I can control. And in other news...HCG continues to drop. As of last Thursday we went from 563 mUnits/ml to 73. But I think I'll have them rerun it...my nurse was probably playing cards.



Sense the sarcasm, watch the video: Senator Walsh's Comment About Nurses Playing Cards 

I don't think you have to have worked in healthcare to know what complete crap that statement is, but I have, and so, intimately, I do. There was a digital petition that went around to have Sen. Walsh shadow a nurse for a 12 hour shift, and per this video, it looks like she has agreed. Also in the video, it says that Sen. Walsh has apologized for her previous statement. Her mother was a nurse, she has the utmost respect for nurses. It seems to me that that actually makes it worse! Perhaps your mother didn't hug you enough as a child because she was too busy playing cards (see what I did there) but you can't make a statement like that and say you respect them. The two are mutually exclusive!

But I digress. keeping my fingers crossed that tomorrow's lab results show a nice fat zero, and we can start the clock on the 3-6 month countdown.

Vacation pictures are still coming on Facebook, but here are a few from the week.

               

               

The Truth About Being a Warrior

So here we are, two and a half weeks post-op. Lots of emotions. Ups and downs. But my tribe, my people, my community have rallied around me, and it has helped me to stay strong. I've been talking with people who have had similar experiences, and that has helped. I've been told many kind things. I've been called brave. A warrior. Some days, that helps.

But here's the truth about being a warrior. It doesn't always look like strength. And most days it sure as hell doesn't feel like it. Most days it's a struggle to get out of bed. I wake up feeling more tired than when I went to bed. The drive to work is hard. Walking into work is harder. But once I get going with my day, I'm okay. When I pass people in the hall and they ask me how I am, I try to just be really honest, because it feels weird to try and say that I'm "good". So it turns out to be a lot of clichés: "Taking it day by day." "Hanging in there."

The later it gets in the day, the harder it gets. I'm prone to sudden mood swings down. Crying at the drop of a hat. Last week we went to dinner with some friends. I made it through the meal, but I could feel it--the ability to sit in public and "people" was slowly draining out of me. And I started to cry. I had to leave, go sit in the car while Chelsey took care of the bill. It made me feel completely broken. But some days are like that.

And some days are better. I've been trying to stay busy and enjoy time with family and friends. Find the humor in each day. 

   

 
 



There is some good news in all of this. My bloodwork the first week came back with an HCG level of 5,664 mUnits/mL. Week two was significantly lower: 

Keeping my fingers crossed that next week it's at 0, and we can start the clock on three weeks of zeroes, and go from there.

4 more school days earns me 10 days of Spring Break. We are going to visit Sis in Atlanta and I don't think I've ever been more excited for a break. I'm looking forward to some warmer weather and a change of scenery. And falling in love with a new place.

And today I will leave you with another song. A favorite of mine and the wife's lately. Enjoy :)

The Bones by Maren Morris

Disappointed, but Not Defeated

There's a song that came to me today, something I haven't heard in quite some time, but one I really loved back in the day.

Okay, shut up--I'm feeling pretty old lately, or at least wise, so yes, I get to say things like "back in the day".

Anyway, the song is Jo Dee Messina's Bring on the Rain. It's been a rough go, lately, but these lyrics hit me this evening:

Tomorrow's another day
And I'm thirsty anyway
So bring on the rain

We are sad. Angry. Confused. Disappointed. But we are not defeated. 

If you haven't ever heard it, or haven't heard it in a while, I highly recommend giving it a listen:

Bring on the Rain

Surgery went well. The staff at West Allis day surg. is pretty incredible. I felt comforted and cared for by everyone I encountered. Also, my surgeon was a Gryffindor sooooo obviously it was going to be great. It was my best ever experience coming out of anesthesia. And I got orange sherbet  when I got back to my room. My one complaint would be that I asked for an ocean view room, but got a parking lot instead. Oh well, win some lose some!


I was home by noon. No pain, little bleeding. Spent the next few days resting. 


My doc said she was working the weekend and would call if the results came in. Spoiler alert: they did not. Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Middle of my PD day on Monday...timing is everything.

It was, as we feared, a molar pregnancy. Essentially, something goes wrong during fertilization. The cells that normally develop into the placenta (trophoblasts) grow abnormally. There are two types of molar pregnancies: partial and complete. Similar but different. I'm not actually sure which type mine was. I'll ask, but at this point, it doesn't matter.

Here's what it means for us now. I will go for weekly blood work, so my doctor can track my HCG (the human growth hormone) until it goes down to zero. The time this takes varies, but it's not measured in hours or days. She needs to see three weeks in a row of a negative (0) reading. At that point, we move to monthly blood work. We need to then have 3-6 months of negative readings, depending on which protocol we choose to go with. 

Fuck.

So what does this mean? More waiting. It's frustrating. We did everything we could. And hey, it even worked the second time. I got pregnant. But instead of a baby, I got a surgery that ended the pregnancy that wasn't going anywhere in the first place. And the stupid part about that is that now I feel empty. Empty. I realize I wasn't growing a baby, but they took whatever it was I had, and now I'm empty. And that's maybe the saddest thing you'll read here today. Because here's what else it means.

In the next 6+ months, I'm going to focus on me. Getting and staying healthy. Losing some weight. I'm going to train for another marathon. Chels and I will work our butts off at our second (and third) jobs and get as financially ready as we can. We will make more memories just the two of us. And after it's all said and done, we will try again. The only way to go from here is forward. 

So today was week one of blood work. This number will serve as our base, and maybe give us a better idea of a timeline. The bummer part is that, recently, they've had trouble finding good veins. It's frustrating--I used to donate blood for goodness sake! I'm going to try and stay extra hydrated, but other tips and tricks are appreciated...I'm not down for several weeks of this. But I guess there's a lot I didn't sign up for, here. 

I am told I am strong, a warrior. For sharing about this terrible thing. The struggle. For having such a positive outlook. But my secret is all the incredible people I have standing behind me. The love and support we have gotten throughout this whole ordeal has been remarkable. Thank you, everyone 💗

Marathon training won't officially start for a few months...but no worries, the sweaty runner pictures will make their return to the blog in due time 🙂