Update of Us

Well, how have you all been? It's been a while, hasn't it? Well, here I am. Still trucking along with at least one blog post a month...I hope I haven't completely abandoned all of my readers....I still continue to strive for more posts per month, but I am also trying to be realistic. I'm struggling.

Do you remember how I used to whine and complain that I didn't have enough time? Time for being a mom, wife, full-time employee, homemaker, etc? Yeah, well, what made me think adding "student" to that list of roles would be seamless? It's not! I spend approximately 1 or 2 hours on my homework at least 5 nights a week. Now, I have a big project coming up, that is due on December 5th.That is truly my light at the end of this course tunnel. I think after that, I will be able to breathe again...at least until January when courses start again. Wish me luck!

I guess I should give you some other updates on our life, before I just jump right back into the swing of things. Last time you heard from me, besides the Halloween on TV schedule, I still had a pretty "open wound," from miscarrying. I can now say that I grieved properly and can now talk about it without losing myself. To be honest, it all just kind of seems like a dream, like it didn't really happen. I am still having minor issues in the "women's health" department, and will be going to give another blood sample later today; but, otherwise, I feel like this chapter is coming to a close. The miscarrying was awful. I had a couple of really, really hard days. If you follow this group on Facebook, you probably already knew that. But, with grieving comes comfort.

Through the awfulness of miscarrying, I thanked God. I thanked him for sending us to the hospital that day for the ultrasound. I am so thankful I found out that way. I can't imagine finding out in any other way. Plus, we now have ultrasound pictures of our angel baby - something I will treasure always.

When it rains, it pours in our house for some reason. I will continue on my Debbie Downer discussion and tell you that just a few weeks ago we lost our sweet, Chico Bandido.

 

He was 9 (the same age as Co-Co, when we lost her). We found out that he had congestive heart failure and a few days later, he passed in his sleep. I am sad; but, he was an older dog, who lived a wonderful life that other dogs dream of. He was spoiled rotten! We miss him; yet, I know he is with Co-Co now and they are having a ball...or playing with a ball...or something like that. ;)

Halloween came and went, all in a complete blur. Now the other holidays are upon us. I am prepared to put this awful fall behind me and take a nosedive right into Thanksgiving, Black Friday, winter, and our beloved Christmas. Don't get me wrong, not all of this fall, thus far, was terrible. I had some great times. Perhaps I will go into those more sometime.

Lucy is growing like crazy and has become a little kid, rather than a toddler. :( Bummer. Olive, is not a baby anymore and is a toddler. Crazy how time flies. I'll share more about their crazy, nerd sister antics later. :)

Have a happy Thursday. I hope I didn't bum you out. That was not my intention. Before I could really move on, I needed to fill everyone in on the bad and the ugly...now onto the good!

Numb & Grateful

As I've mentioned in times of sadness, there seems to come a time where you are just numb. I think I am there. I try to talk myself out of reality. Sometimes I feel as if none of this ever happened. The last four weeks didn't really exist; it was a dream turned nightmare.

But, I know it is my reality. We did lose a baby. It happened. I want to forget. I want to remember. I am torn.

I am in a bit of a limbo right now. I still have not miscarried. So, all day I sit and analyze any pain that I feel in my abdomen. Unfortunately, at this point, I hope that it is my body finally starting this process. I want to get it over with. It is going to be tough. But, I want to get it over with...Then, there is this ridiculously optimistic and stupid part of me that says, "Maybe the tech was wrong. Maybe the baby is okay after all."

I know that isn't true. I can feel it. I don't feel pregnant. The symptoms have faded. I think I knew this before I went to the hospital. In retrospect, it makes sense. I never fathomed this though...

I still battle guilt, tremendous guilt. That seems to be the only time that I cry; when I think of something I said that was ungrateful. I complained that both of the girls' birthdays were on the 7th and this baby's wouldn't be. How ridiculous is that?! Or, when I was upset that I would be fat for a wedding in the spring. Selfish. I was so ungrateful. I have undoubtedly been taken back down to reality.

I do want to thank those of you who have reached out to me. I didn't realize that a few of my readers have also experienced this type of loss. Their words were very encouraging and I am seriously grateful that they shared their story with me. It made me feel like I was "normal." And, that what I was feeling was "normal."

It seems that so often we go through this type of pain in silence. If you are like me, it is easier to type to someone, because if you say it aloud, you will cry. That part makes me sad. So, to all of my readers, just know that I am here for you too.

As I wait, I hope you haven't stopped praying for us. I am afraid that one of the hardest parts still awaits me. Please also pray for Heath. He continues to be so strong for me and I am not sure he has had his breakdown moment. He was more excited than anyone about our surprise baby.

I sometimes feel like I let him down...the thought of this breaks my heart.


As I continue to grieve. I hope you don't mind if I bring up our angel baby now and again. I know many like to avoid the "awkward" topic. But, I've been told that there is no wrong way to grieve. Please support me in that. If I want to mention Baby #3, don't feel the need to change the topic or become silent. I want to remember this moment, when I leaned on God more than ever and asked him to speak to me.

Thank you again for your support, thoughts, personal stories, and prayers. I am so incredibly grateful, numb and grateful.

Loss

I debated a few times whether to title this post "Loss" or "Lost."

I guess I should first tell you that this is not a fun story. It is in no way exciting or upbeat. Please do not expect it to be so.

A few weeks ago I was late. And, by late, you know what I mean. I haven't been keeping track of my cycle, so I wasn't exactly sure how late I was. But, Heath and I were fairly certain that there was no need to consider the alternative to having a period; because, we had been careful. As days passed, Heath finally woke me up in the middle of the night one early morning. He insisted that I take a pregnancy test the next morning. I agreed.

I woke up early the next morning and thought about what Heath had said. It got into my head and I couldn't get back to sleep. So, I hopped out of bed and took one. I was shocked. I have taken these many times before. I usually pee, wait, try to decide if a line is showing or not...not this time. As soon as the wetness hit that line, it immediately read positive. I was, well, shocked. I guess Heath and I hadn't been as careful as we thought.

I ran to the stairs and yelled at Heath. He said he just knew it; he was so excited. I was still shocked and well, overwhelmed. I am a planner. It was not in sync with my plan. I had just started graduate school. Olive wasn't even one year old yet. We didn't have a vehicle that could fit three car seats. All three of them would be in high school at one time. I was just overwhelmed.

Heath had a golf tournament that day. So, I was home alone. I literally just sat around all day, freaking out. My heart would race. I was so worried about being able to handle it all. I was afraid that people would call us crazy.

As time passed, we told more and more family and friends. I was excited. Babies are miracles and the best blessings! However, I was not at all prepared for the responsibility and was still worried about it. I kept telling myself that by April, we would be ready. Heath was so excited. I'll be honest; he didn't seem this excited with either of the girls. He just knew this one was a boy. Since it wasn't planned, it was so much more exciting to him. Since it wasn't planned, I was having a much harder time wrapping my brain around it.

I went to the doctor to have it confirmed. I had another freak out moment at the doctor's, when she told me congratulations. I just couldn't believe it was all real. Could I do this?

We weren't really sure when exactly I got pregnant. And, my last period was really light. So, Dr. B suggested that I get an ultrasound. Then, we could know how far along I was. I was excited at the chance of this. I had never had one this early. So, around, what I would guess was at 8 weeks or so, I went in with Heath for an ultrasound.

Checking in was normal. We joked around about twins and wondered if I could really be 12 weeks along or so. We guessed a due date of around April 25th.

"What pregnancy is this for you?"

"My third."

"Two live births?"

"Yes."

"Any miscarriages?"

"No."

We started with a normal ultrasound of my stomach. I had no idea what we were looking at. It was all blobs to me. I did see a blob once that I was guessing might be a little baby spec. But, the tech didn't say anything. She measured stuff. She looked at the colors, which if I recall correctly was blood flow. I felt really uneasy about her demeanor. She wasn't talking us through it at all. I was then asked to go to the restroom and wrap up in a sheet for an internal ultrasound. Once in the bathroom, I could hear her ask for someone else to come into the room.

I tried to talk myself through my uneasiness. I was being paranoid. You know me. I was always worried about this stuff. I came back out and another woman had joined us. They just stared at the screen. They didn't turn it toward us. They didn't say, "Here is your baby." Nothing. I tried to read their faces. It was just stone-cold silence.

I looked at Heath and mouthed, "Is everything okay?"

The tech caught me and asked if I was comfortable. I said, "Yes; I am just worried about all of this."

She didn't respond.

The other woman left the room.

I was fairly certain that I knew at that moment. This wasn't good.

The other woman came back into the silent room.

She asked if I was going to see Dr. B after the ultrasound. I was going to. She said that Dr. B wanted to talk to me about today's results.

I asked, "You can't tell me anything?"

The tech looked at me, curled her mouth downward and said, "We aren't picking up a heartbeat. There was a pregnancy. The baby is measuring 6 weeks and 4 days, but that is as far as this baby got."

I started to sob, hard.

Heath rubbed my arm. He was so strong for me. He kept telling me that everything was going to be okay.

They asked if we needed a moment and I just cried on Heath's shoulder. I had done this. I was overcome with guilt. I had worried about it too much. I had treated this baby like an inconvenience in "my planned out life." I had acted like it didn't fit into my story. The guilt came rushing over me. This was my fault.

They had asked if I wanted ultrasound pictures. I did. I got two pictures of our baby - Baby Christiansen #3. I had already started taking pregnancy photos and filling out a belly book. We had already made plans for this baby - the car seat, when to buy his or her crib, and so on. It wasn't something that we could just ignore and pretend didn't happen or exist.

I took my photos and a book they gave us, "Dealing with Miscarriage," and walked out into the hallway. I quickly tucked the purple book into my bag. I didn't want everyone to see the woman with the purple book and know what had happened.

We got to the car and cried some more. Heath told me that it wasn't my fault. He was just so incredibly strong for me. He kept it together for me and allowed me to sob on his shoulder uncontrollably. I really couldn't ask for a better husband or father for my children.

We finally met with Dr. B. She echoed Heath's comments to me. "This is not your fault. It is nothing you did."

She said I had a bleed. That is fairly common. But, it was too close to the baby and the baby wasn't able to develop. We didn't really ask questions at that point.

I felt so guilty. I had sat in her office less than a week before, crying because I was so overwhelmed. Now, I was sitting here, babyless. How ungrateful am I?! What a terrible person I was. I did want that baby! I did! I loved that baby. I prayed for it.

We discussed the actual miscarrying. I still haven't miscarried. I am carrying around our baby. I am still carrying it with me. The thought of this, just breaks my heart.

I chose to miscarry naturally if I could. I hear that it can be quite emotional and traumatic. I can't bear to think of it. I just want to get it over with and start to feel closure with this loss.

Right now though, I am lost. I don't really know how to move forward. I can't sit still for too long or I start to think about it. I get upset. As quickly as I knew this baby was here, it was gone.

I am just trying to keep busy in the meantime. Heath and I don't really know how to move forward while something like this is still looming. Please just pray for us. We need all the support we can get. Despite what Heath tells me, I still have moments of incredible guilt. How dare I question God's plan? But, again, this must have been his plan. I am still trying to figure out why we were to experience this. I hope he speaks to us soon.

Thank you for all of your prayers. We will make it through this. We are a strong family. Please, if you see me, do not ask me how I am doing. I may just break down into tears. I prefer not to do this in public. I hope that isn't a selfish request...

I hope I can feel "normal" again soon. Before now, I thought that miscarriages were commonplace. I felt sad for them, but I didn't realize how a loss such as this can make you feel so lost.

I debated sharing our story. I thought that it might help me in some way. I like to know that I have a support system out there, praying for us. I am also so forthcoming with you guys about my pregnancies and our life changes. I felt that I needed to share this too, in a way. I thought too that perhaps writing it down might make it feel a little more real to me...I don't know. I just don't know...

Scary Times: Part 6

Let's all cross our fingers that this will be the last installment of the "Scary Times" posts. Deal?

When you last heard from me about Lucy being sick, we had just gotten out of the hospital for the second time. Lucy had an incision about 3 or 3.5 inches long in her groin area. Two stitches were holding it together, loosely, and a tube was sticking out of the top. The tube looked just like a McDonald's straw, minus the red or yellow stripe. It was held in by one stitch.

We also had to give her antibiotics and probiotics throughout the day.

Oddly enough, we were able to put her in the bathtub with the tube in. Won't water get inside her? No idea. But, that is what they told us to do. "Cleanliness is close to Godliness," Dr. A said.

The idea of the loose stitching was that the "sore", if you will, needed to heal from the inside out. Dr. A said that he couldn't sew it closed, or the abscess would just come back. That made sense. One week went by. We went in to get the tube out. The cultures of the abscess had come back - more staph infection. We weren't surprised; that is what we had all expected.  He cut the tube stitch and pulled it out in, like, two seconds and we were on our way.

In the next few days the incision continued to kind of ooze. Gross - I know. Then, where the tube was, some skin started to emerge out of the "hole". When we went to get the stitches out, Dr. A said it was scar tissue. He took the other stitches out and told us that we would have to burn Lucy's scar tissue off. Now, doesn't that sound fun?

Sorry - can you sense my annoyance through my sarcasm?

We took home some liquid nitrate sticks. They looked like long Q-tips. Any skin it touched, it would burn. Daily, Heath and I had to hold Lucy down (it seriously took us both!) and would burn some of this scar tissue off. Lucy hated it. When I asked Dr. A if it hurt her, he said it would cause "mild pain" and "sting a little"...whatever that meant for a 21 month old. I dreaded that time of day. Bandage changing and "burning" was the worst.

The good news was that we no longer had to go see Dr. A! As long as the incision looked good in two weeks, we didn't have to follow up! Music to our ears.

Next thing we knew, the incision looked really odd. "The skin isn't touching anymore, right?" I asked Heath. After further staring and thought, we made an appointment with our regular doctor, Dr. B.

It had popped open. You could tell Dr. B hated telling us this. She went on to tell us, "All children aren't all this bad! I promise!" Then she told the nurse, "At this rate, they aren't going to let me deliver any more!" 

Then, she left to call Dr. A from across the hall. Heath stood by the door, trying to hear the conversation. We were nervous that she would be sending us back to Children's. "Please no," we both pleaded. We heard the conversation end. Dr. B conversed with her nurses and they started gathering supplies. The nurse carried in gauze, sterile water, and bandage tape. Whew! No needles or thread!

Dr. B said that Dr. A shared her same regret with this entire situation. It just never seemed to end! My thoughts were, "You're telling me!?"

We did a week of wet to dry gauze changes, while continuing the burning of scar tissue. Fun times. These dressing changes had to take place twice a day and they were more challenging to get in place. The tape made Lucy's groin so red and it started to actually scab in some places. We tried our hardest to move the tape around and not tape in the same place. There just weren't that many options. We looked for a better tape to use than what the doctor gave us. We found a paper tape; but, it still irritated her leg, if we could get it to stick at all. Ugh!

A week later, I took Lucy back to Children's. We had just finished the burning and the incision was looking better. Dr. A said it looked good too. I was worried; could you blame me?

The outcome - no more dressings! No more tape! No more burning! Just neosporin and a band-aid. I was excited! Oh, and no more Children's Hospital! Yay! Nothing personal; I just don't care to see any of them ever again...

I used all of my excitement to go shopping. It was therapeutic to say the least! :) I even splurged a little and got Lucy the cutest brown, suede boots.

Everything is going well and we are both impressed with how much better the incision looks. Now that Daycare is able to see it, without a dressing covering it up, they didn't think it looked too good. I had to kind of laugh to myself, because it was so much worse before.

Now, please join in my excitement (and prayers that it's true) as I type these two little words...

The End.

Scary Times: Part 5

We continue our story...

For some reason sleeping in the hospital was harder for me this time. This being said, I didn't exactly sleep like a baby last time. Perhaps I wasn't exhausted with worry like last time; I'm not sure. Lucy slept well the first night. She still hated them waking her up throughout the night to check vitals. Who wouldn't?

The next morning we waited to hear about the CT scan. They finally scheduled it for early afternoon. We basically sat around all day until then. Since Lucy was more 'awake' than the last time she had a scan, this time she would have to be sedated. I hated the thought of it; but, I kept telling myself that at least she'd be getting good sleep.  (Thank you Mackenzie and Morgan for Lucy's horsie, Bonnie!)

Also with the CT scan, she had to drink a contrast; so, when they take the images they can see the organs clearer.  Last time they were checking her appendix and put the contrast in by IV. This time they had to have her ingest it. No problem. They mixed it with apple juice and she just had to drink the ten ounces. Never mind - it was much more difficult than we thought. We got her to drink four ounces on her own. However, she would not drink the rest. This meant they had to make her.

How do nurses make a 20 month old drink something? Shove a tube up her nose and down her throat.

It was tough. This was the one time that Heath and I were not able to help hold her down.  They came in, wrapped her arms in a blanket, so she couldn't move, and three nurses shoved a tube up her nose. Lucy coughed, cried, gagged, dry heaved and looked at us for help. I stood back and cried. Heath just kept whispering to me, "This is terrible. This is just terrible."

They let her go and she immediately ripped the tube out. They had to insert it two more times until she stopped. Heath was finally able to pick her up while they let gravity drain in the six remaining ounces. I absolutely hate the feeling of having her ask us for help and comfort and not being able to do anything. It has to be the worst!  She locked eyes with me and gave me a look as though, "Why?" It broke my heart. I wish she understood.

After that rough patch, we walked her down to the scan. She did really well and fell asleep in the machine again. The tech taking the images said that the abscess looked pretty large. Later that afternoon, during the staff rounds, we were shown the CT scan images.  This was the most we had ever been included. We liked being included with the thorough explanation. They said that they saw her appendix; it was full of gas and appeared to be functioning well. We could finally rule that out. Whew! That was nice to hear!

They also showed us the abscess. Wow - was it large! It was actually pushing her bladder over, because it was so big. It had fluid inside of it too. The doctor then explained to us that to be able to get the fluid out completely, they would have to "go in". You may remember this same phrase from our initial doctor, in the E.R. This meant that this time, they would have to cut Lucy open. We were mentally prepared - whatever got this thing taken care of.

Family started to show up. My mom and sister spent the entire day with us. It was a blessing. Time no longer crawled.  My dad called from Texas and said he was coming up for the surgery too. My heart was balancing between fear and happiness.

That night, Lucy was normal. The swelling had gone down a little with the IV antibiotics. She could walk again, because they were giving her Tylenol for the pain. She was dancing around the room and singing. It was a good time...in a hospital!

The day of the surgery, we were nervous again. I was never left alone this time though. I wasn't able to make myself crazy. So many family members showed up; I couldn't have been more thankful for all of them. Even my cousin Hannah drove for four hours to be with us. Our family came together for us - from literally all ends of the state and country. Isn't that awesome?

We walked Lucy down to surgery again. I was doing pretty good until the elevator. A woman got on that I recognized. She was really tall and her lips were pale. I immediately remembered her from a volleyball camp I attended in high school. Oh no - a real person! Let me explain...

I like to pretend that the surgeons, anesthesiologists, and nurses helping are all super humans. They aren't normal. They don't have lives outside of the hospital. Basically, they are incapable of making human errors. This changes things a bit. She was real. I know she is. I was more nervous now. 

We had a tearful good-bye, while Lucy yelled for us as they took her away. It's awful. I made sure to tell the anesthesiologist and a nurse that Lucy didn't deal with morphine well. If they could give her something else for pain, we would appreciate it.  I had also told another random doctor this same information the night before.

The surgery, though, went well. We all sat in the lobby talking and even laughing. I ate a container of fries like I was being timed (the nerves!). The surgery and recovery were a little over an hour. However, there really is something very calming about not knowing the specifics of what is happening to her, knowing she is sleeping well, and knowing that this is all being taken care of.

Dr. A finally came from surgery. He said that the abscess was "nasty" and he was glad that they went in when they did. He kept reiterating how bad and nasty it was. They ended up also taking out 3 or 4 lymph nodes that were infected. They were the root of the problem I guess. He was speculating that the lymph nodes grabbed onto the infection, trying to "help out" the immune system with fighting it. However, they ended up getting the infection inside and held onto it until they festered long enough to swell like crazy. He wouldn't be able to tell us for sure until they got the abscess cultures back.

Dr. A also said that they put a drain in again; however, this time it was just a tube, without a bag. It would leak out onto a gauze.

I asked if they gave Lucy morphine. I bet you know his answer...yep! They did. I told three people and no one did anything about it. I appreciate Dr. A; because he acted genuinely concerned about it and told me that he would switch her to Tylenol with codeine.

We got to pick her up then. It is always a wonderful feeling being able to scoop her up in my arms. This time she wasn't as swollen; but, she seemed to have a bit of a black eye. :(

The recovery was similar. She was sleepy for a long time and then she had a morphine fit. It was the same as last time, but lasted longer. My dad, Heath's sister and her boyfriend were the only ones around to witness it this time. I think they realized that we weren't exaggerating. Heath and I were better at witnessing it by now. However, it really bothered Lucy's Aunt Heather. Thank goodness once that one was over, Lucy didn't have any more. Now we knew that the morphine was to blame. Noted!

Dr. A came by to check on Lucy at about 10:30 pm. I knew I liked him. He actually took the time to stop by. :)  Also, he called to check on her again close to midnight. I loved how much he cared.

Lucy was finally able to eat again and snacked on Aunt Nikki's pizza. We laughed, since Nikki was supposed to be taking the pizza home to Uncle Brian. That was, seriously, the only thing Lucy would eat.

We all settled in to sleep around 1 am. My dad and sister decided to stay with us. I know that it wasn't a good night's sleep for them; however, I loved having them there. I seriously loved it. I want to have family sleepovers all the time now! :) Plus, they kept me sane. We had a crazy, humming, taking to herself, nurse. She was an old woman and she had braided her pigtails into buns on top of her head. She moved like one hundred miles per hour and acted like she was on fire. I wanted to strangle her. She was not good with Lucy at all.  It is very true that the nurse makes your experience. We had a different one every day and night.

The next day, my family left. We waited for Dr. A to stop by again. Lucy would go home today - already!  That was alright with us. Dr. A talked again about how "nasty" it was and said that once he made the incision it was like a volcano of puss. Gross. That sure does put it into perspective though. Heath and I wondered if a lymph node didn't burst and that is what caused the swelling to go from little to a lot in such a short amount of time.

They showed us her incision, the drain, and how to change the dressing. We then packed up to leave, via radio-flyer.

We would visit the doctor again the following week. In the meantime, we had to keep an eye on that drain tube.

- To Be Continued -

Scary Times: Part 4

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Where were we? Oh yes - everything was better. We were literally driving in the sunshine, discussing how amazing it felt to have the worry taken off of our shoulders. (Is the worry really ever gone though? Really?)

Later that week, we noticed Lucy's groin area was still swollen. We reassured each other that the surgeon, Dr. A, said that it was normal. We were to only watch for a fever and redness. Neither were prevalent; so, there weren't any problems. Right? Right.

As days continued, Lucy was still acting completely normal. She was perhaps even a bit more active and happy than usual. However, we kept our eyes on the swelling. It was obviously more swollen, because it had moved from just her groin area, into her right labia a little bit. Again, he told us this would happen.

On Saturday morning we decided to take a trip to the pumpkin patch. My mom and Alex were going to come too. I was on the phone with my mom when Heath called to me.

"Cori, it's a lot more swollen."

I didn't expect it to see what I saw. It was alarmingly swollen. I say the word 'alarmingly' because everyone kept trying to down-play it to me when I would describe it to them. Once they saw it, their reaction was, "Whoa!" I was simply shocked. I asked Heath, when he changed her diaper this morning was it that bad? He said no. It was almost like it had just puffed up like crazy in just a few hours.

I told my mom about it and told her I was going to call Children's. I had the number for Dr. A still on my phone. However, I knew he had been on call the weekend before, so I wouldn't be getting a hold of him.  Another doctor answered. I introduced myself and Lucy's case. He was not familiar. That part was kind of frustrating. I told him about the swelling and used the word 'alarmingly'. His reaction was blah. As long as she doesn't have a fever and it isn't read, then no big deal. I'm paraphrasing of course.

I got off the phone, looked at her groin again. That can NOT be normal I told myself.

Heath and I thought that maybe we could give her a bath. Dr. A had said that the soap and water was good for her incision. So, she soaked in the tub, playing, for about 20 or 30 minutes. Afterward, it looked...well, almost worse. It now looked a little purplish. Not quite red though.

I thought to myself, if only I could talk to our doctor, Dr. B. Maybe if I called the hospital, they could contact her for me. It was worth a try. I called the hospital and she was there! She was only in for a couple of hours that day and I managed to catch her. (Thank you to whoever was having a baby that day!)

After I told her about it, she suggested that we just make a trip into the E.R.; she wanted to take a look at it. I was still optimistic. I asked my mom (who was also shocked when she saw it) and Alex to ride along. After the hospital trip, we would head to the pumpkin patch.

We arrived at the E.R. Dr. B had us just sit in the waiting room, so we wouldn't be charged for coming into the E.R. How nice was that? We waited about ten minutes. I was nervous. I sat on a steely, diner-type chair against the wall and watched my mom play with Lucy and Alex. She was always so calm and collected in these situations. I couldn't gage Heath. He sat just to the right of me, watching too. He didn't have a nervous tic like I did. My eyes were drawn to my shaking, right-foot. It was crossed over my left leg and my nerves caused it to move erratically side to side. I immediately put both of my feet on the floor and grabbed the chair. I needed to get myself under control.

Dr. B arrived. As soon as we got Lucy's diaper off, she said, "Oh, yeah. Let me call Children's."

She exited the room. We put Lucy's diaper and pants back on. I asked Heath, "Are we headed back to Omaha?"

His reply, with a regretful face, was, "Sounds like it."

Dr. B came back in after speaking to the same doctor I had called just an hour before hand. They decided that since Lucy was acting normal, we could wait to head back up to Omaha until Monday morning at 9 am. Dr. B thought that the abscess had come back and it was more than likely staph again. Finally, she told us that she thought that the surgeon would have to "go in" this time to clean it out. We took that for what it was worth and didn't ask a lot of questions.

We could take Lucy home, not to the pumpkin patch, and watch her. We couldn't give her pain medicine, because we needed to monitor her for a fever. If she had a fever or didn't act like herself, then we needed to go to the Children's E.R. again. I was scared; but, Dr. B was right. Lucy was completely acting normal. She was having so much fun. I knew though that the next two days and nights would be hell on my nerves.

We picked up Lucy's prescription for another anitbiotic (her fourth) at Walmart. She ran around like a maniac - typical Lucy. It was comforting. It wasn't until that evening, that Lucy changed. Ironically enough, when the Cornhuskers went into the locker room for half-time against Ohio State, down by 21 points, Lucy really started to act oddly. We were all feeling a bit queasy...but Lucy was more than just disgusted with the Huskers' performance. She seemed really tired. She didn't want to walk anymore and she had a temperature of 100 degrees. Heath and I decided to take Lucy to Omaha. We knew that we would never feel comfortable about being home and we wouldn't be able to sleep well knowing that she had a low-grade temperature. After packing some bags, we got out of the house around 10:30 pm.

The drive up I just kept asking Heath, "You don't think they will send us home do you?"

I mean, they didn't send us up there right away the first time. Would they dismiss us this time too?

He assured me that we would be staying the night. Lucy slept on the drive, while we listened to the last few minutes of the Husker game. This trip was much different. I wasn't panicking. I was nervous; but, I knew what to anticipate. I was a pro by now at the processes of Children's - right? Well...that is what I kept telling myself.

We got to the E.R. Nobody had a familiar face; it was a whole new staff. We checked in and were immediately ushered to the first check-up room. Wow - that was a change!  The nurse looked her over. She now had a temperature of 102 degrees. I said aloud, "Good thing we left when we did then. I'm glad we came in."

The E.R. nurse said he would get us a room quicker, since Lucy had been there just a few weeks before. And, that he did! We sat in the waiting room for maybe five minutes. I was much more pleased with our experience this time. We entered the E.R. room. I searched for familiar faces at the nurses' station - none.

The E.R. process was similar. I was doing really well. I had already talked myself through it. I knew that she would have to have blood drawn. I knew that they would need to insert an IV. I knew she wouldn't be able to drink. I was prepared to hold her down. I was not, however, prepared for the nurse to poke around in Lucy's arm for a solid two minutes looking for a vein. It was like watching Lucy get tortured. Heath was having a rough time with it, considering his light-headedness. I was annoyed and felt so bad for Lucy. I actually looked at Heath once, huffed, and shook my head.

"START OVER!" I wanted to yell.

We were finally taken to a room upstairs. We had to explain our story another 20 times. This time our story was much longer....well, as you can imagine. I had to go over parts one through three of our scary journey. I tried to remember all of her antibiotics' names, our family history of illnesses, and the many other facts about Lucy's behavior, eating, drinking, peeing, and pooping behavior, etc.

Since they knew Lucy had staph last time, everyone had to wear face masks, disposable gowns, and gloves in the room with us. Heath and I just stood there in street clothes, apparently taking in the infection - ? I figured they didn't want to spread it all over the hospital.

We were finally left alone to sleep at 2:45 am.

They started Lucy on antibiotics. We would have another CT scan in the morning. No one could tell for sure yet if this was staph again. We didn't even know if this was the same abscess or a different one yet.  Time would tell.

- To Be Continued -

Scary Times: Part 2

For Part 1, go to: http://www.ilovelucyjean.com/2011/10/scary-times-part-1.html.

After what can only be called an emotional, exhausted, mental breakdown on both our parts, Heath continued to Walmart to get our overnight supplies. I was falling in and out of sleep when he returned. We decided to go into the bathroom to talk and to turn on a light. We didn't want to wake Lucy.

Heath showed me each of the items that he got, and looked for approval on the yoga pants and Huskers shirt he picked up for me at Walmart. Finally, for our culinary delight, he set a fountain drink caddy and a brown fast-food bag on the bathroom counter. Let me tell you something first...

Remember how I mentioned that we had gone to the doctor the day before? Well, when driving through town, I spotted the Burger King sign, "New California Whopper". I started to tell Heath that I had enough bad experiences at Burger King that the thought of even eating there made me want to gag. He kind of chuckled and said that he saw the same sign and thought the same thing. We then had a short 30 second rant on how gross it had become to us.

Guess what logo was on the side of that brown paper bag on the hospital bathroom counter? You guessed it: Burger King. Only in our hellish day could fate throw that type of irony at us. It was the only fast-food place open that late in the immediate area - even McDonalds was closed.

Oddly enough, we laughed. I think when you spend the entire day thanking the Lord for your many blessings, you just stop complaining. We stood in the bathroom, giggling like pre-teen girls who had stayed up too late, stuffing our faces. Heath munched on a chicken sandwich, while I poked around on chicken fingers. They were a little too crispy and were basically all breading. But, if you dipped them in the sauce, simply labeled "Zesty", they weren't too awful. I was more pumped about the fountain drink and swigged that caffeine right down. Heath and I somewhat reflected on the day. We knew there was much more to come though.

The nurses came in throughout the night to check Lucy's vitals. Lucy woke up and cried each time. By this time, she didn't trust any strangers that came in the door. I would help calm her each time they came in.

We woke up around 7 am to several nurses and doctors entering the room. I greeted them with my puffy eyes, no make-up, and morning breath. I'm sure I looked like a gem. Did I mention that I hadn't showered yet either? We were told that Lucy's surgery wouldn't be until the afternoon. This made it a long morning.

Heath decided to head home to get more things. It was obvious that we would be there for a couple more days. This gave me too much time to think. I was alone for about 2 1/2 hours. During that time, I held Lucy in the recliner, squeezed her tight, and well, panicked. I would start thinking about the surgery and start to work myself up so much that I thought I might be sick. My heart was racing and my face was red. I had to talk myself down several times. I've never felt such panic in my life.

I tried to ease my mind by asking one of the random nurses - or doctors or helpers or whoever she was in scrubs - that came in, if I could be with Lucy until she fell asleep from the anesthetic. She said yes. Whew! That made me feel a little better.

Thankfully my Aunt Amy showed up and once I had a good cry with her, I was distracted. It was so nice having someone in the room again, besides Lucy. When my Uncle Matt and Heath showed up, my mind was even more free. I was able to joke and laugh again. My heart stopped beating out of my chest.

Visitors came and went before the surgery that evening. It was originally scheduled for 5 pm...then 5:45 pm....then 6:30 pm....and then I think it was 7 pm when we started to head down. Heath carried Lucy as I held back tears. Some slowly streamed down my face as we walked down the hall and took the slow elevator ride down. Heath's sister, Heather, was crying, as well as my mother-in-law. I couldn't even bring my eyes up from the floor at the fear of losing it completely.

We were taken to a room to wait. A nurse came in to talk to us. Then, the surgeon came in and explained things. Finally, two nurses came to get Lucy. I realized then, that the scrubs lady had lied to me. We weren't going to be with Lucy when she went to sleep. I quickly told the nurse that I was misinformed. She shared my annoyance.

It simply broke my heart. Lucy was taken by a stranger, to an unfamiliar place, and all we could do was wave at her. I wrapped my arms around Heath.

I said, in between crying breaths, "I wanna kick that nurse who told me that!"

I wanted to do more than just kick her; but, my motherly, censored mouth came up with "kick" and kept me from calling her a much worse name.

During surgery, I was again oddly calm and optimistic. Being in the colorful lobby was comforting. Staring at the huge banners about being named the number one children's hospital in two areas of practice was comforting. Family was comforting.

The surgeon came out, said it was done, and it went great. I thought to myself that the hardest part was over. I breathed a sigh of relief and couldn't wait to get to Lucy. I just wanted to squeeze her so tightly. I actually sped walked, following closely.

There she was - puffy and still drowsy from the anesthetic. I hugged her and carried her back to her room. I thought that the night would be a peaceful one. Lucy would sleep...well, like a baby. It would be the best night of sleep she had in a long time. After lots of kisses from family, everyone but Heath's mom, Jeannie, left.

Everyone missed it, but Jeannie.

The morphine. Oh my gosh, the morphine. It caused Lucy to have fits. She didn't want anything touching her. She hit us, the bed, her thousands of cords hooked up to her. She rolled around furiously. She'd shout "owwiee" and "mommy". I'd try to pick her and she'd just hit me and push me away. There was no calming her. This happened all night long. We quickly learned that all we could do was move the cords out of her way and keep her from hitting her head on the bed side. Every time the nurses came in for vitals, it happened.

Jeannie left around midnight, and two morphine induced fits.

At around 2 am, I lost it. I bawled to Heath. I hated watching her like that. I hated hearing her yell "Mommy" and not be able to do anything for her. I cried. I cried hard. I stopped holding my tears back and finally allowed them to flow. I allowed the breath to escape from my lungs. I collapsed and emotionally checked out.

Thank God for my brave husband. He took over for the night, keeping the cords out of Lucy's way during each of her "fits". I sat near the couch and watched from across the room. It was a trying night.

They finally took her off the morphine at around 7 am. Then she slept like a rock. She slept like I had imagined she would sleep the night before. She was peaceful and calm. It was nice...until around 4 pm. Then, it became worrisome.

"Is she supposed to sleep this much? Is this normal"

We finally got her to open her eyes for some apple juice around 5 pm. Then, she saw me eating some macaroni and cheese and opened her mouth for some. Ahh....that was my Lucy! Sometime in between bites she fell back asleep.

Lucy slept for over 24 hours straight. It did allow for us to sleep some too.

The next day, our mission was to get her to eat.

We tried all day. It was a slow process; but, it got better with each meal. Her cousin Alex came to visit her too. They were able to go for a wagon ride around the floor. We ended up in the playroom. Lucy was almost herself. It was a wonderful feeling. Besides her puffiness, the bandages and her drain bag, she looked happy.

She still took long naps; but, at least she played in between.

Things were looking up and it really did seem like the worst was behind us. All we had to do now was wait for the second surgery...

- To Be Continued -

Scary Times: Part 1

Where have I been? Well, most of you know. But, here is my completely un-Halloween related scary story - the worst type of scary...

Lucy had been fighting something. She was having the occasional fever and she had been tugging on her ear. She was even turning her pacifier to the side and chewing on it. I thought for sure she was teething, with her two-year molars, and the ear infection came with it.

I stayed home with her a few days and it seemed like she got better. Later that week it came back; but, this time it didn't subside. Finally, we decided to take her to the doctor. She needed to get that ear infection taken care of.  On that Wednesday morning, we took her in. She had one ear infection and the other ear was getting one too. Poor girl. We picked up some oral antibiotics and headed home.

That night Lucy started to say, "Ouchie." We had also started to notice her favoring her leg. We thought for sure that she had hit her knee at DayCare or something similar. But, by the next day, the favoring had become a limp, and she wouldn't even put weight on her right leg. I continued to think it had nothing to do with her fever and ear infections. Why would it?  Heath got paranoid enough that he decided to call our doctor.

"Cori, Dr. B sounded really concerned. She wants me to bring Lucy in right away."

At that point it was still unclear to us how the two could be linked. We had done some googling that only left us freaked out. Apparently, an infection can settle in a joint...like a hip joint.

We walked into the same waiting room that we were just in the day before. This time, our hearts were beating just a bit faster. I kept telling Heath, and myself, "It's going to be alright. She'll be just fine."

Our doctor didn't seem to be nervous or worrisome. It helped calm our nerves. She said she wanted to take an x-ray, to make sure it wasn't her hip bone, and that they wanted to take some blood. They took some blood and while the test was running, we were escorted to the x-ray room. It took both of us to hold her down.

The x-ray? Normal.

Great. We sat in the examination room, playing with a puzzle. There was an odd sense of optimism.

The next few moments were kind of a blur. The doctor walked in, accompanied by three nurses. She didn't say anything but, "Lucy is very sick."

I know that she followed up by saying that she was sending her to Children's Hospital, they would run an IV, and that Lucy's white blood cells were doubled. I just can't remember in what order. I was still stuck on, "Lucy is very sick."

I'd be lying if I said that cancer hadn't crossed my mind.

I managed to muster, "So, she'll be going by ambulance?"

"Yes. I'll call and they will be expecting you."

We asked what she thought it could possibly be. She said an infection in her joint or possibly even her appendix, which would be very rare.

In the blur of movement and conversation, we had to hold Lucy down for the nurses to insert an IV. Heath sat in the corner chair, unable to watch the needle penetrate Lucy's skin. I stood over Lucy, telling her that it would be okay - not knowing if I was lying or not. My fearful tears began to fall near Lucy's head.

The doctor re-entered to tell us that Children's had requested Lucy to come in "as-is". That way they could run accurate tests once she arrived. We were then given the option to drive her up; we took it.

As long as the drive to Omaha should have been, it really wasn't. We took turns calling our family members and trying to give them a run-down of what just happened. I only called my mom and started crying so hysterically, that Heath had to call everyone else for me. It was rough; but, Heath was so brave for me and Lucy. I am very thankful.

We entered the ER at Children's to wait for almost two hours. My fear turned to annoyance and then quickly to anger. I watched a girl with a sprained ankle go in before us. Didn't they know that Lucy was "very sick"? Being in an urban hospital was very different than what I was used to. We were literally just being shuffled around. We met numerous nurses and doctors. We had to retell our story to several people.

We finally made it to an ER examination room at about 5:30 pm. They took more blood, while I had to hold Lucy down again. They also took her vitals and looked in her ears. The IV also needed replaced to be compatible with their equipment. It was very hard for me to accompany them, holding Lucy still, against her will. I just wished I could explain to her what was going on.

We asked the ER nurse what they thought it was. He said that they were testing her for blood infections and so on. He explained a little more; but, my mind stayed wrapped around blood infection. It scared me.

Every time Heath and I were in the room alone, we would obsess over what was going on and all the horrible, possible outcomes. Thank goodness I had scared my mom on the phone enough that she had immediately headed north, with my sister and her family. They came just at the right time. I was verging on a complete breakdown.

One of the several doctors we met with ordered an ultrasound. By the time we go into the ultrasound room, it was about 8:30 pm. They found no fluid on her hip joint. So, basically, it was back to the drawing board. The tech called the radiologist. He said to check her ovaries. That scared me too. I shuttered at the thought of little Lucy not being able to have children of her own. At some point, they also checked her appendix.

We were ushered back to the room and then told that her appendix had an abscess (a pocket of infection). It had more than likely ruptured. They wanted to do a CT scan, to confirm. We finally had the CT scan at around 10:30 pm. My family had left once they found out more about what was going on.

Again, we had to hold Lucy down while they strapped her in. She was so tired at that point; we all were. Thankfully she fell asleep in the machine. The CT confirmed an abscess around the appendix. It was also surrounding her bladder, her ovaries, her hip muscles, lower intestine, and I think they even said it involved her uterus. Apparently her immune system was so good that her organs walled the infection in. They kept it in one place - thank God.

We were told that the area was too inflamed and had a lot of puss, etc. around it. They couldn't take her appendix out without first cleaning the abscess out. They would have to do surgery to drain out the infection. Then, she would have to wear a bag for a week. The infection would continue to drain out, into the bag. It sounded like we had at least a couple months of this stuff left. But, for the night, we would have to stay in the hospital. Lucy would have surgery scheduled for the following day.

We finally got into a room at midnight. The day marked what would be one of the longest days of my life. Once the floor nurses poked and prodded on Lucy again, while I held her down for the hundredth time, we were left alone.

Heath was in street clothes and I had come from work, so I stood there in dress slacks and high heels. Of course, the one freaking day I actually wear heels! We decided that I would stay with Lucy. He would run out to get us some food, some pajamas, and some toothbrushes.

He left and I just sat there watching Lucy. I started to cry and pray again; but, very few tears fell. I think I was out of tears for the day. Little did I know, but Heath was sitting in the parking lot crying and praying too. Brave faces are hard to sustain. Sometimes all you can do is ask God for help and for the strength to make it through the following days.

- To Be Continued -

Traveling Heart

I'm sure you've noticed; I'm in a funk.

Not a good funk, like The Commodores. A bad funk. My head is in the clouds. My brain is in a fog. My mind is...well, you get the idea.

A piece of my heart has traveled to Texas. And, I'm having a pretty rough time with it.

As most of you know, my dad recently got married and decided to move to Texas. Family, and specifically my dad, is very important to me. I'm sure you've realized my emphasis on family throughout the last year of posts. To add to the problem, I'm not that big on change. Sorry Obama.

When my dad decided to move, I was angry. I consistently fought my sarcastic, surly side; I wanted to say something hurtful or smart alecky. I knew that saying something mean wouldn't make him stay; but, perhaps it would remain in his mind forever. And, that is the reason I held a lot back. I didn't want him to have another reason to leave, like me being mean.

I didn't just hold the anger back. I held the sadness back. It's a common trait among my family members. We're not big on giving into painful emotion. It's much easier to pretend those feelings don't exist. Unhealthy? Absolutely. I have tried to work on it though. My psychology degree forces me to.

The day my dad left, I cried; however, I refused to let it sink in. He's not really moving. He'll be back soon. This is all temporary. My heart and my brain were in constant battle that day, trying to allow the truth in, while avoiding the emotion.

The first week he was gone, I did alright. We had gone a week without seeing each other; so, it was easy to pretend. The second week, it started to really set in. Things I normally held on to, to show him or to tell him about, I realized I would have to do over the telephone or Skype. He wouldn't be stopping by again after work.

Look at me. I talk like someone passed away, right? Whoa is me. But, it seriously is a big deal to me.

I was already feeling down about my dad leaving, then September 11th came and I watched all the horrible coverage, things that I tried to avoid and forget years ago, and then, my brother-in-law got into a terrible accident.  It was all a bit too much for my emotion.

I slowly fell into a funk - a deep, sad, funk.

We had a good weekend and somehow, today, I feel uplifted. I am not even sure why. I just am. Perhaps it's a turning point for me. Let's cross our fingers.

With the, hopefully steep, incline of my mood, there should be some more blog posts. Perhaps it's fall quickly approaching (heck - it might already be here!), that has me smiling. The leaves are falling, the windows are open, and I'm listening to the sweet sounds of football fans and broadcasters. Halloween is near. I have lots of plans for the next month and I'll be sure to share them all with you.

Sorry about the funk. And, I promise to get back with it soon. I will also include the final videos of my running challenge - like I've promised.

Happy September 19th! Smile everyone. It only gets better.

Stalker?

You may call it stalking. I call it being lonely.

Wait, that is still pretty stalker-ish to say.

I call it talking pictures of someone when they don't know you are there.

Wait.

Well, I guess I am a stalker. I'm a Lucy stalker. :)

Since I can't go visit Lucy as DayCare anymore (sad), I still walk by occasionally and peak in windows. Alright, alright. That is the epitome of stalker.

Who knew I had an inner creeper this entire time?

I just sometimes wonder what she is doing, if she is having fun, if she misses me, and so on. It's tough being a full-time working mom. I miss her lots of days.

Taking pictures and peaking are my only fix. Creepy or not.

Do you think of your kids all day, while at work? Would you creep too?

Broken Hearts

I broke Lucy's heart this last weekend. In the process, she broke mine too.

Since we have three stories to our home, we often times have to "cage" Lucy into one area. This particular evening, Heath had closed our bedroom door to corral her in our bedroom and master bathroom. I was in the bathroom painting my toenails.

Lucy seemed particularly interested in my makeup bag on the counter.

I tried averting her interest by giving her other random things to play with: tampons, a brush, my mascara. Nothing was working. She kept reaching for my makeup bag.

"Lucy. No."

She would look at me with a blank stare, then immediately go back up to her tippy toes, reaching for the bag.

"Lucy. I said, no!"

She dropped back down to her flat foot and flopped her reaching arm back down to her side. She then grabbed my brush and lifted it to her hair, moving it back and forth - as if to act very innocent.

I looked down to paint another nail and then wham! My makeup bag came tumbling down. It was unzipped; therefore, random containers and eyeliner pencil shavings went flying through the air, then covered the floor.

"Lucy! What did I say? I said, no, no, no!"

Don't take my exclamation points wrong; I wasn't yelling. Was the voice stern and frustrated? Absolutely.

She watched as I squatted down, trying to find and pick up items and throw them back in the bag. Then, I discovered what I had anticipated - my blush. It was crumbled into a million pieces.

I let out a huff.

I pointed at it, showed it to Lucy, and said, "Look what you did. You broke it."

I threw it in the makeup bag and looked up just in time to see the saddest face I had ever witnessed.  Her brow line dipped, her eyes were scrunched, and her bottom lip was pushed out to the max. Her arms were at her sides and she just stood there in her little pajamas, with her belly protruding her pajama pants.

The tears came slowly and she only let out the tiniest wail. Her heart was broken.

My heart? Well, it didn't take long and it was broken too. I felt awful.

I shoved the makeup bag out of the way and opened my arms to her. Without thinking twice, she fell into them, hugging me tight. I immediately started telling her how sorry I was.

"I'm sorry baby. I know you don't understand."

All I could imagine was that mean uncle on 'Home Alone' saying, "Look what you did, you little jerk!"

I felt horrible. Reflecting on it, I really didn't get hard with her; but, she must have sensed my irritation. She is getting so smart that I sometimes forget that she is still just 17 months. She may know what 'no' means; but, she doesn't understand that if she pulls my makeup off the counter that it could break.

While we hugged on the bathroom floor and I apologized while rubbing her hair out of her eyes, I think our hearts both healed. It took her a few minutes to forgive me and it only took one tear for me to forgive her.

This discipline thing is going to be harder than I thought. I can't wait until she can fully understand.

I Wear Lipstick Now

Are there ever times in your life, where you just take a moment to just step back for a second? To just halt your mind and look at where you are, what you are doing, and what got you here?

I do that a lot.

The other day, I was listening to music on my iPhone and had my entire library on shuffle. It ranges from Dolly Parton, to The Beatles, Motley Crue, JaRule, New Kids on the Block, Bruno Mars, and even to Alanis Morissette (to name just a few) - pretty much a ridiculous mix. Needless to say, I wasn't shocked when "I Need You Tonight" by Backstreet Boys came on. I was, however, pleasantly surprised. It had been a while since I've heard and listened to the song. It immediately took me back to a time when life was "simple".

I had just finished 7th grade and the summer had just begun.



First, let's all take a moment to appreciate that rockin' skort, with matching butterfly top. Then, I'm going to take a moment and be sad that I was once that blonde and am not any more. :( And, finally, I will close with some thoughts about how large my head/facial features seem in regard to my body. haha. Not my best moment...

Anyway, on with the story -

It was early in the morning and I was somehow already awake and around at 7:30. (It was probably because I had stayed up half the night before!) My parents had already left for work and my sister wasn't home. So, I did what any thirteen year old girl would do. I stuck a CD in the player and cranked it. At that particular time, I chose the Millennium CD by Backstreet Boys, (before they had the cool acronym, BSB). I think it was track number 5...

"Oooopen uuuup....your heart to me...mmmm....."

I remember folding clothes, cleaning up my room, belting out lyrics alongside Nick Carter. I of course was obsessed with a boy too.  Want to know who? This punk...

This was taken while we were in high school. Yes - I was blinking.

I know you probably don't believe it; but, I was crushing on Heath back when I was 13. We even "dated" or whatever that means at that age, for like three months.

What can I say? I guess we just couldn't keep away from each other and after love and marriage, God blessed us with this bundle of beautiful, sweet, awesomeness -

Anyway, I remember thinking how boring and lame my life was. I didn't have enough 'cool' clothes and I didn't live near any of my friends. I had to help with laundry and dishes. I had it rough...

Not!   <----- Was that reminiscent of the late 1990's enough for you? haha.

I didn't worry about my weight and think about every single piece of food I put in my mouth. I didn't stress about the house not being clean or unorganized. I wasn't thinking about how important it was to spend time with the family. Money wasn't even something I considered. I took sleeping-in for granted, as I did with all of my free time. I was too busy making a "Girls I Don't Like" list on my closet wall to worry about that stuff.

Isn't it crazy? Those days are long, long gone. I have "big people" problems now. Heck, I'm an adult, a wife, a mother.....I wear lipstick now. No more Bon-Bon lip gloss for this gal...

Changes happen too fast. If you blink, you'll miss them.

Serious Side-Note: I barely made it through writing this post because of the news coverage of the tornadoes. I have such a heavy heart. I complain about the stupidest things and there are people out there who are really hurting, aching, and unsure of how to go on. My heart sinks when I think about the Hamil family from Piedmont, OK. I am so very, very blessed. I just want to hug my family and never let go. Please, God bless those affected by these storms...

Ignorance Really is Bliss

Lucy got run over by a plastic car.

Yep. You read correctly. I watched as Lucy was smashed by a plastic, toy car.

 Let me explain.

As you may already know, I was Banned from DayCare; therefore, I can't go visit Lucy over my lunch hour anymore (which results in more blog posts - yay?). It was pretty difficult at first; but, Heath and I were beginning to manage pretty well. It was getting easier. But now...the children are going out to the playground during our lunch hour. We can hear them outside playing.

What's the harm in peeking out the window? None. Right?

Wrong.

The window in my office looks directly over the daycare playground. Heath is the one who first looked out and called me over.

"Cori - come look. She is walking around."

Of course I took off running for the window. She was so cute, just walking around in the grass, all wobbly. We were kind of surprised that she was unaccompanied. She was just going about her own business. We would never leave her to herself in our back yard. She'd be eating grass or rocks, or something!

She was walking along the sidewalk while the bigger children played on tricycles and big-wheelers. A few even had those plastic cars - you know, the red ones, with the yellow surround? They were some like those. One kid was pushing a car down the side walk. It was like slow motion.

Lucy was standing at a sidewalk intersection, not even looking at the bigger kid charging her way. My heart was begging for Lucy to move.

Lucy turned and bam. The bigger kid hit her with the car, pretty hard I might add. It knocked her down, flat to her belly, her head only about an inch from hitting the cement, as the kid continued to push the car over top of her.

My baby girl just laid there on the sidewalk with a plastic car over half of her body.

I was instantly...pissed.

I wanted to just go running to her rescue and to scold the older child for being so mean and careless. But, I was two floors up, watching helplessly. I waited...

She didn't cry. Whew...once the kid finally realized that Lucy was too big of a speed bump and backed up, she got up. She gave him a dirty look, which I enjoyed. I was so proud that she didn't cry and was very relieved that she wasn't hurt.

Now, where in the H-E-double-hockey-sticks were the daycare people?

Oh, out of all THREE of them out there, one was with the younger babies, in the stroller (rightfully so). The other two? Talking. Talking? Yep - just chattin' it up on the other side of the playground. There weren't even any children in their view! One had a cellphone in her hand too. She wasn't using it; but, I was still annoyed.

The entire thing happened and no one saw it - but, the second floor window parents (us!).

I knew then that an awkward, passive-aggressive conversation would soon be taking place between me and the director. I wondered how I would explain what happened without being a psycho, protective mommy. I mean, the director wasn't even there at the time.  However, I have to say something. If I achieve nothing else, I just want them to know that we could be watching, always.

If they want to ignore children (which they shouldn't be), at least they will know that they should always be watching Lucy. Her momma's a bit on the crazy side.

After discussion with, the also infuriated, Heath, we decided that perhaps it is better not to watch. Ignorance really just might be bliss...

Oh, who am I kidding? Now, I'm going to be at that window like a hawk!

Junior High Wrestling

As I've mentioned before, I have a close family. Family is my number one priority. Therefore, I have become close to my cousins, Hannah and Rex.


My cousins, me (pregnant), and my sister

My cousin, I've mentioned before. She is 5 1/2 years younger than me and she has always been like a little sister. We've even had people think we were sisters! :) Now that she is getting older, our age difference is becoming less and less noticeable. I look forward to years and years of spending time together and someday, our children spending time together. :)

Our youngest cousin, on the other hand, is 10 1/2 years younger than me. And, I think it goes without saying, he is a boy. I'm about as close as I can be to him. But, I just don't think hanging out with his 25 year old, female cousin, and her baby girl is his idea of a good time...haha.

We love spending time together as a family though, as we did last Friday for my grandpa's birthday. Us grand kids played pitch while the 'adults' watched the great-grandchildren. ;) It's funny how I still don't quite think of myself as an adult at the family events...although, the 'kids table' is no longer in existence.

Anyway, I try my hardest to be a part of their lives; Heath and I both do.

Although my youngest cousins' junior high wrestling meets are usually scheduled before I get off work, we decided to take off work early for his last meet. I had to at least go to one! I wanted to watch him, as I had heard so much about it. Plus, I heard he was pretty good at it too - kickin' butt and takin' names! :) You saw him! He is taller than all of us at just 14!

I wasn't sure what to expect. I didn't even know the rules. I didn't know what the ankle bands were about or the point system. It was all foreign. The only thing I did understand was the pinning and blowing of the whistle. Although I did somewhat expect the referee to hit the mat and count to ten or something...

Rex wasn't up for awhile; so, we got to watch a few other matches first. It was sad...

Since it was junior high, some of the boys looked like, well, men. They were tall, muscular, had deeper voices, and were ready to jump right into high school. Then, there were the other boys..the ones who hadn't yet hit their stride. They still had some 'baby chub' on them, not much muscle, and looked like their skin was smooth and, well, hairless. Now, you tell me, is it fair that these two wrestle?

According to my husband, "Yes - that is what they sign up for."

I watched one boy, who was obviously not matched well, except for weight alone, get his face smashed into the mat repeatedly by a kid who was probably a foot taller than him.

Sad...It broke my heart.

I know that I shouldn't feel that way; because, it is almost like I have pity for them or something. That's not how it is though. I just felt sad. It was unfair......to me. I know the weight says something totally different. And, so did all of the people there.

To be fair, this is how I've always felt about fighting - boxing, MMA, wrestling. It's just soooo personal. I hate watching somebody get physically put in their place. It's sad to watch. So, when you substitute these people for junior high boys, it only made it worse. Although, wrestling isn't at all close to the craziness of MMA!

I didn't mind watching my cousin though. He was pretty evenly matched, and he pinned his guys with some, I would guess, standard wrestling moves. There wasn't any mat, face shoving. He almost made it look easy actually. What a stud? haha. Lucy thought so too! She only clapped for my cousin, and none of his fellow school mates.

Anyway - what do you think about wrestling? Would you want your son to do it? Or, does your son already wrestle? Do you think that I am being hyper-emotional, per usual?

Finally, for my family's enjoyment, and anyone else who knows my Grandma, here is something I thought was funny. In the picture of us cousins, above, Granny is in the background talking some random guy's ear off. See below:

She cracks me up! haha.

Have a good weekend!