Wombs and Womanhood

“You are going to need a hysterectomy in the next 5 years.” I had a feeling those words were coming, but hearing them was deafening. We had already had the “it’s unsafe for you to carry anymore pregnancies” and “a tubal ligation is permanent sterilization” conversations, so the word hysterectomy shouldn’t have felt so much like a gut punch. But it did. I started my period when I was ten. I remember sitting in a human growth and development lesson in 5th grade and the teacher was reading anonymous questions from note cards all about periods, and breasts, and armpit sweat. Someone asked if periods hurt. The teacher said no. I asked why she would lie. I never got an answer. Painful, intense, frequent periods have been my reality for over half of my life. So here I am, a month away from 25 grasping at straws and going over the very few last options with my doctor to try and keep my uterus for as long as possible. I’ve been given a preliminary diagnosis of adenomyosis, a condition in which the endometrial lining of the uterus grows into and infiltrates the muscle of the uterus. This condition can be extremely painful, which explains so much of my life (let me just tell you, it feels so great to finally have an answer that doesn’t involve “maybe it’s in your head”). This in combination with the conditions I experience during pregnancy, as well as endometriosis, and polycyclic ovarian syndrome, will facilitate the need of a hysterectomy as the only form of relief and treatment. But here I am, a month away from 25 figuring out how to say goodbye to the piece of my body that housed my three babies, the part of me that makes me a “woman of childbearing years”, before I turn 30. Possibly before I even turn 26. How can I feel so attached to an organ that for so many years has caused me pain, sickness, and heartache? I know that my ability as a woman isn’t defined by my womb or my child bearing abilities, but somehow giving that up seems harder than I ever could have imagined. It almost feels like a cruel joke considering how fertile I am-how easily I can make babies, but how impossible it is for my body to carry them. My eyes fill up with tears of misplaced guilt just thinking about it. And the tears will continue to flow this week as I take the first step in fighting back against my hostile uterus. An endometrial ablation. A bandaid, without even a promise of improvement, to hold my body over until I am in a better position for major surgery. So with this I will continue to promise myself that what makes me a woman is not this defiant organ, but my kindness, bravery, nurturing heart, motherly love, intellect, intuition, tenacity, femininity, and resilience. I am made a woman by being a daughter, sister, mother, wife, and friend-not my body. I can still embody all that the womb symbolizes, even without a functioning one. Even so, I will mourn this piece of my story. I will, however, do so with the hope and prayer that it will improve my quality of life. That by taking away this symbol of motherhood, I will actually become a more able one. The hope of being able to enjoy my time with my little people without pain and illness is what drives me towards this frightening reality. And like a true woman, I will face this, conquer it, and have dinner on the table by 6. Just kidding about the dinner part. 

Seeking Advise

I have been having a pretty hard time lately (the last two years 🤷🏻‍♀️) and have been really beating myself up for it. I need to write and post Hope’s birth story but can’t keep my emotions together long enough to actually type it out. I need to start exercising so I can lose this baby weight because I’m bigger than I’ve ever been in my life, but I can barely work up enough energy to keep three people alive every day. I need to do better at keeping my house tidy, but again with the energy and then I have a baby constantly attached to me and a toddler demanding constant attention. I need to play and interact with that toddler more often throughout the day and especially work on his speech, but there’s the energy thing, and the attached infant thing, and the trying to keep my house clean thing, and trying to keep my emotions together, and thinking about how I’m not exercising. If you give a mouse a cookie (if you give a mom a reason to feel bad about herself?). What I really need to do is start loving myself, but sometimes it is just so damn hard. So, moms of the internet how do you do it? How do you let go of what you aren’t succeeding at and focus on the good you are doing? What are your positive affirmations and self love techniques? How do you reassure yourself that you aren’t screwing up your kids for life? Teach me how to just be ok and be present. Help me to make a change.

Health Update

I have had lots of questions regarding my health lately, so I thought I would give an update here for anyone interested. I have a hard time sharing about my physical health in general because I don't want to come across as "sick" or needy. It's a weird feeling since I have no problem being completely open about my mental health struggles, but when asked about my physical health I automatically downplay and side step. So here's what's going on (without using the words "I'm fine").

Let's start with some background: I have had three pregnancies in two years. The first, as many know, involved severe hyperemesis gravidarum-extreme nausea and vomiting resulting in serious weight loss and a plethora of other complications. My second pregnancy resulted in an early and emotionally challenging loss. And this pregnancy has come with its own set of challenges. In addition to pregnancy and all of its joys, I also suffer from chronic migraines, anemia, stomach issues, and kidney stones. With this information, we can move on to the most recent update.

Throughout this current pregnancy I have dealt with mild to moderate hyperemesis along with my other more chronic issues-the works. Occasionally due to these issues, or so I thought, I would become very faint and pass out. In the beginning it was written off as dehydration from the vomiting, treated with IV fluids and rest. Around 22 weeks the vomiting stopped completely. It was a beautiful gift. Unfortunately and fortunately at about 24 weeks my fainting episodes became more frequent and concerning. I realized it was a problem when I passed out in the middle of Nordstrom. That was just all kinds of embarrassing. But after a few days and a few more episodes I had an increasing feeling of something being just not quite right. On a sudden impression I decided that I needed to go to the emergency room even though I was relatively ok at that moment. I knew I just needed to go. So I calmly drove myself there and checked in. Well, they don't take passing out lightly in those places so I was seen and tests were started pretty quickly. It was quickly discovered that my heart rate was extremely elevated even while resting. After fainting twice while tests were being run, I was admitted to the hospital where I spent 4 days while doctors tried to stabilize my heart rate. I was blessed to meet with a doctor who specializes in heart rhythms and I was diagnosed with an arrhythmia that can be exacerbated by pregnancy. I was sent home with a heart medicine and a 24 hour heart monitor and strict orders not to do most everyday activities, including but not limited to: climbing stairs, lifting or carrying my one year old, and driving. These limitations have by far been the most challenging part of this whole situation. I am about three weeks into this now and am becoming more stable but am still having occasional episodes of tachycardia, dizziness, and fainting. The hope and the goal is to completely eliminate these episodes before delivery as they can become worse during labor if not managed properly. The good news is that I have some amazing doctors and an even more amazing support network. I am hopeful (most of the time) and very grateful that I am receiving the proper care and treatment. I am also scared a lot of the time. And pretty disappointed that I don't get to give birth in a bathtub anymore. But I know that it is all for the best. I am making it through day by day with tons of help and lots of prayers. Life is never what I expect, but even in the stress and the struggles I am constantly reminded of how blessed I am. So this is where I am. It sucks a lot but I am managing. And even though I am not fine, I know I will be eventually and it's nice to have that to look forward to.

Mama Feelings are Sometimes Pretty Sappy

It's late and I have lots of mushy thoughts, which is how most of my terribly infrequent blog posts begin. So here we go.  My sweet, 14 month old, rock star sleeper woke me up about 30 minutes ago screaming in his crib. The boy who would sleep a night through the apocalypse was wide awake in the middle of the night so heartbreakingly upset it made me want to cry. Cuddles and kisses cured the nightmare in a matter of minutes and my not so little baby was back asleep in no time. But I was left feeling sentimental. How on earth did he get so big? How has time gone so quickly when sometimes the days of motherhood feel long and arduous? Short as this moment of midinght snuggles (and the past year) may have been, my mind was set hoping for the both of us. I hope I am showing him my love to the fullest each day. I hope I am teaching him to be a good person. I hope he grows up to be kind. I hope he remembers that I try my best every day and not how often I lose my patience. I hope he always relies on his mama and daddy for love and support-even in the middle of the night. And as we prepare to grow our love for another little human, I hope he loves her fiercely and will always be her protector, friend, and champion. I am in awe of the love little people are capable of. I know I am getting really sappy, but it really is just so amazing to me. I have all of these hopes for my son and I have so much faith that each and every one will be and are a reality. There is also the reality of temper tantrums, picky eating, learning to share, and nap time, but that is life. We are learning  to take the good with the bad and ride the wave each day. So when my once tiny baby who is now a big toddler wakes me up in the middle of the night needing to know I am there, I will cherish that moment and have all of the over the top mom feelings to go with it. Please always be sweet and pure, my little angel boy (mostly so when you are kicking and screaming because I won't give you my phone I can still remember why I like you so much). Love, your really tired but mostly grateful mama.

Zen

I am finding my zen. In my bathtub, diffusing some hippie oils, listening to the kind of music they play while you do yoga. You know, the kind with the wooden pipes and nature sounds. Zen. I am pretty sure it's out there and I am pretty damned determined to find it. Every day I tell people how this pregnancy is better than the last-and this is true-but it still sucks eggs most of the time. "Better" is really relative and at the risk of being super non zen, I still hate being pregnant. So here I am. In the bath. Listening to my granola music. Waiting to not hate it quite as much. Daily I tell myself "I only hate what's happening, I do not hate my life." And it works (most of the time) but I am still counting the seconds until I have this little girl in my arms and out of my body. Let me tell you, I have a lot of seconds to go. But I also have a lot of seconds to love and be grateful for. Every laugh, smile, hug, and milestone my son experiences keep me here on this earth. I live for his wild golden locks and hearing him say "mama". So as I seek my zen, I am reminded of how worth it my life is. How sometimes things suck, but those moments can never overtake my husband tirelessly serving me, and my baby boy endlessly loving me, by being surrounded by love and goodness. The horrible times cannot consume the Hope my future holds. And there inlies my zen. Now to just hold on.

I Will Keep Existing

I am no stranger to writing about mental illness-my mental illness, my thoughts on mental illness, blunt and honest, as real as I can be. So here we are again, as I blog seeking catharsis. I have found very rare moments in my life where I feel "normal" and/or "balanced" mentally, physically, emotionally etc... these moments always seem to be fleeting and related directly to a careful balance of medications. I have no shame in my daily cocktail of psychiatric stabilizers that make me the kind of human being that other people don't mind being around and that make me feel like I can function at a satisfying level-actually I kind of love them. I love that modern medicine and science have made ways to improve my quality of life and keep me from losing my bananas for no reason in the middle of the grocery store. Science rocks. But what happens when for one reason or another I cannot continue my amazingly perfect routine of immaculately balanced medications? What happens when, in fact, I have to stop them all together and rather quickly? In the past, I have done this and gone through addict-like withdrawals. Raging and screaming, my body painfully detoxing antidepressants as I huddled in bed for days or weeks crying, sweating, and throwing up from the shock to my system. This was an experience I quickly learned from and with the help of some amazing medical professionals have never had to experience again. But, even titrating safely off of psychiatric medications has consequences. Although my body isn't physically reaping the repercussions, mentally and emotionally I am left with only fragments of what I had built as a standard of normal functionality. Where I once was industrious and productive, I am left sluggish and inefficient. Often distracted and easily confused, and definitely impatient with myself and those around me. I am reintroduced to the cloud of anxiety that overcrowds my every thought and decision as well as the accompanying guilt that is always just one step behind each move I make. Of course I am now afforded much more room to experience highs, damning impulse control but these moments are always fleeting and undoubtedly leave me feeling worried that I may have taken a misstep. Most of the time I feel as if I am swimming through molasses trying to get somewhere that I can see but never quite reaching my destination. Always sidetracked by anxiety, worry, guilt, self doubt, and lack of determination. Suddenly a friend's casual remark becomes suspicious and my day is ruined worrying that maybe she never really liked me anyways. But none of it is logical. And this is the battle to no end-the raging war between logic and emotion. Where the two could once coincide peacefully, they are now meant to battle it out in my soul until usually emotion wins guns blazing. It is utterly exhausting. To know with every thought in your brain that you are being unreasonable, but still break down with every feeling in your heart. So I wait. I wait to achieve a new state of "normal". I wait to learn to function again. I wait to react when I know I am being irrational. And I wait to one day just be okay with who I am and the challenges I face. So while I wait, I will keep fighting. I will keep myself and my son fed, safe, and alive. I will feed Nilla wafers from my spot on the couch. I will take three naps a day. I will try not to end any friendships. I will do my best to keep being a good person. I will probably let lots of people down. I will eat ice cream. I will love my son and my husband with everything I have. I will not clean up the toys every day. I will let my husband do the dishes, and the laundry, and give the baby a bath. I will spend too many hours watching netflix. I will not wear makeup, or probably pants unless really necessary.  But I will not give up hope. I will keep existing.

Life These Days

I have been avoiding writing this post for some time hoping and waiting for some more positive inspiration. Days and weeks have passed trying to think of something happy and motivating to write and post here. Life has been overall pleasant lately if not fairly uneventful, so why can't I think of something rose-colored to share with the world? Don't get me wrong, I am not moping around dwelling on doom and gloom, crying woe is me. Really, I am not even that sad most of the time. But every few days, when I least expect it I get a little twinge of pain in my heart. Folding up outgrown baby clothes, storing away rockers, bouncers, and car seats that no longer fit my growing boy. In these moments I feel time taking over, reclaiming what it already owns. I miss my tiny little baby, and some days I miss the little babe I never got to meet. Absence fills my soul for fleeting seconds as I let go of the things of days, weeks, and months passed. As I watch myself, and the world, and my baby change at unimaginable speeds. As I remind myself that it is ok to nurse a broken heart. As my big boy stands up only to fall and experience the bitterness of disappointment for the first time. As I realize that I can't always protect him and keep him safe. But never failing, absence is replaced with wonder as a watch my little person learn and grow so quickly each day. Discovering new places, new abilities, and new emotions by the minute he is in constant amazement-and so am I. We learn and grow together, experiencing the world for the first time. It is as beautiful as it is heartbreaking. And the laughter which fills my home also fills my heart as I am afforded the much needed peace of knowing we are not alone. In those moments of sadness and joy, I am reassured that life goes on and although every second is not perfectly happy, every second is worth experiencing and with each second we will grow.