Post op

I took a very long shower this morning, hoping the hot water would help some of the aches and pain I am having. I am almost a week into my recovery from surgery and doing rather well on most days, most hours of the day. I think today I have had a minor setback, I attempted to do too much activity yesterday and my body is protesting.
I have been sore and I tire easily, I am also slightly stir crazy and antsy. My mom has been here taking care of the kids, of the housework and beautiful friends have been bringing dinner nightly. I have felt my body responding to the rest, to the medication, felt it start to heal and repair. Today as I stood in the shower I realized it was the first day my abdomen was not swollen, the bruising is starting to fade but not the scars. It's so funny, I was so upset after my c-section about my incision scar. It was devastating to see it, I hid it from others. Now I have four new scars, all much smaller, but still present. The girls all grimaced when they saw my stomach, black and purple with three new bandages and a very funny looking belly button incision. "Poor mommy," Vanny said..."and this time you don't even get a baby for the cutting on your stomach." Her tender heart, her sweet little innocence, and the truth of her statement. No more babies for me, just bruises and scarring.
More than anything I have pain where my ovary was, I am not sure if it is just physical or also emotional pain. I have been so tired that I haven't spent much time on the emotional damage from my surgery. But I know it's there. Standing in the shower today, noticing my abdomen and my scars, new and old, I felt loss and sadness. My c-section scar for so long was a vivid reminder of how my life was quickly torn, changed. The scar was jagged and long and ugly, jarring every time I glanced at it. The scars from my hysterectomy are smaller, more methodical and planned. In some ways that helps. I had no control over the damage done to my body from Caleb's birth. I could never resent actions that saved my life and my son's, but the method and the unskilled, rushed manner in which his surgery was done, I did resent and cry over. Weep over. I chose my surgeon for my hysterectomy, I chose my hospital, I chose how much and the procedure for the surgery. Obviously there were still a few unknowns going into the surgery but nothing was rushed or chaotic.
When I woke from anesthesia after Caleb was born, all I could ask is if he was alive, over and over. When I awoke from this last surgery, I asked the nurse over and over, "Did he take both ovaries or just one?" I was fuzzy and having a hard time remembering, she told me she was going to write it down because I asked so many times. Obviously wanting to know if my son lived is more critical, more important but both questions to me speak of life. I did not want to lose both of my ovaries, I felt it would change my life in a manner I was not willing to embrace at 32. Thankfully, luckily, I did not lose both of my ovaries. Only one and both of my tubes and my uterus but I already knew that, I ad already accepted the loss of my uterus. I knew going into the surgery, that my womb would be gone, I was willing to accept that loss because I knew it was necessary. I was not willing to accept the loss of both ovaries, of the instant onset of menopause. I was so worried about how it would change me as a young woman. The loss of both tubes was slightly shocking, I had to say, "wait, what?" a few times in recovery. It seems a little silly now, why worry about tubes if you don't have a womb, if you cant carry a baby anyway, anymore. It was more just wanting to hold onto anything womanly of me that I could, anything that was not damaged from my c-section. So everything is cleaned up, in a manner of speaking. My hope is that as I heal from the surgery, no more issues or pain will arise. In a few months, a year, I will feel completely better and it will all be a distant memory. I wont feel damaged on the inside or still in pain from a surgery that happened almost two years ago. I hope, as friends who have had hysterectomies have shared, that I will feel better than I have ever felt. My c-section scar is still there on the outside, even though most of the internal scar tissue has been removed. I seem to grow more used to it each day, it isn't quite as jarring and obvious, it's just another part of me. I hope the same will be true for my other new scars as they heal and fade. I do feel a sadness and a letdown about the need for a hysterectomy at 32 but reaching a point of acceptance is a little easier than it was after my c-section.
I really feel I could go deeper into examining and explaining all of this. Both surgeries were life-altering to me. I am sure as I continue to heal I will revisit these thoughts but right now although, sore and very tired, I feel a sense of relief, and a sense of appreciation for my body. I have carried four beautiful children, I am very blessed. That part of my body's job description is over but I still get to be a mother who carries them in her heart and soon, as soon as my stitches heal, in my arms again. I still get to be a young woman who loves and nurtures and nothing can change that.

Big day

So I am getting ready for bed, very BIG day tomorrow. I felt like I had to take a minute and recongnize it. I have to be at the hospital even earlier now, my surgery was pushed up. I will be leaving my house before six am. I know crazy, I am so not a morning person! I have spent more time today prepping for the surgeon, well surgery, than I have ever spent on getting ready for a date! I painted my toenails red today, an outward sign that my sexiness was not going to be lost by the removal of a womb or ovaries. Guess what, you cant wear nail polish into surgery. Guess I should have read my pre-op instructions a little better!

I spent the day running around like crazy, nervous energy was very high today and helped me accomplish much. I organzied my laundry room, did six loads of laundry, baked muffins, made 2 meatloafs plus dinner, and several other things. I also spent the day soaking up time with the kids. Caleb was cuddly and in want of me all day. I talked with Vanny for a long time about her favorite subjects, Mario, Luigi and Princess Peach. I posed for pictures for CC. And my sweet little Senny Sunshine could not let me go earlier. It was dreamy to hold my second grader on my lap and cuddle. She is very logistical and pragmatic, so of course she wanted to know what happens if surgery doesn't go well. Thanks Senny, just what I wanted to hear. But, I smiled as I searched for the right answer to give because this is my Senny, my realist. Gosh, she is so much like me. I didnt have a right answer, all I could say is that I trusted my doctor and I trusted that God was watching over us. Simplistic and honest answer and so now at 12:14 am I am going to go to bed believing that statement as well.

Well ok, I am going to bed as soon as I switch my sweats over to the dryer from the wash. It's sweats for me for a few days or weeks. Good thing I look great in sweats because for a girl worried about losing her sexyness sweats dont usually do much for the self-esteem!

I have great friends who have sent prayers and emails and love. My mom is here to care for Caleb tomorrow and the girls as well if school happens to be cancelled again. My dad drove down just to see me, well mostly his grandkids, but it's nice to be loved like that. My brothers have called, my sister has calmed my nerves and made me laugh a few times today. And Ja will be driving my crabby, sleepy, nervous butt to the hospital bright and early. I am hoping it is an easy wait for him, I know last surgical time it was not.
Thanks for all the well wishes everyone!

safe place to fall

A friend of mine told me to just relax and get through this week and so I am trying...It's hard, it is a struggle because I know my life is changing on Friday. My life is also about to be put on hold for a few weeks as well. I am not sure if I want to embrace change, avoid it, or fight it. I am attempting to not avoid it but I am not fully embracing the change that is imminent.

My surgery is Friday. It came together rather quickly. Yesterday I went to the hospital for pre-operative testing. I also sat my girls down and explained as well as I could what was about to happen. It was a hard day. My girls have surpised me, they are handling things much better than I expected. It helps that their aunt has planned a lovely, fun weekend for them so they should not be too distracted with worries over their momma.
Walking into the surgical unit yesterday did a number on me. I had to go in the bathroom to regain composure, I even had to call Mar because I couldn't calm down. I caught a glimpse of two doctors coming out of surgery and all these horrible memories flooded me and panic set in. I could not catch my breath. I calmed down enough for my testing, fun fun needles, and received my pre-op instructions and I was out of there. I decided to call my surgeon and he was able to further reassure me. Sometimes I think you just need to express your fears and concerns and have someone listen and respond honestly. No brush-offs or diminishing of feelings and fear, just the ability to be heard; it is amazing the feeling of comfort that can bring.

I was panicked about the actual surgery more than anything. I was concerned about all that could go wrong, the chaos that could happen, the indifference that I have experienced before, the painful recovery, the time of feeling desperately alone and afraid. Those concerns are now, if not fully relieved, at least mostly. I trust my doctor and I have expressed my need for kid glove treatment. I cannot cope with rushed and indifferent medical staff again.

Now I am not panicked about the surgery. Also, I am not overly fearful of the ramifications of a hysterectomy to someone of my age. I am aware of the risks but I am more hopeful that surgery will help than fearful the surgery will harm.

And so I am not sure why I am sitting here today struggling with the thought of change. For so long, the last two years, I have had to be strong, it was necessary for my family. I am feeling incredibly weak and anticpating the need to ask for help and rely on help and stay in a position of weakness and dependence. I am not embracing this change. It's against my nature to accept help, I dont even like for anyone to help me figure out a move on Spider Solitaire!

I am looking forward to my mom coming down. I have planned out the menu of my favorite foods for her to cook. There is nothing like my mom when I am sick. But I cant seem to get past that easy physcial need to giving in and giving over my other needs. The need for comfort, the need to be heard, the need to be taken care of, the need for the kid glove treatment. It's hard for me to relinquish those needs into someone else's hands. I have always been very good at taking care of myself. I like being capable and not needy. But now I wont have that luxury, at least for a few weeks. Someone else will be doing Caleb's therapy and carrying my baby boy. Someone else will be comforting and cuddling my sweet little girls.

I am sure all of it will be frustrating for me. I am not the best patient. I am not the best student. I spent today cleaning up my bedroom, finding movies and books to occupy my time while I recouperate, attempting to make my bed a safe place to rest, hoping I will have a safe place to fall.

The acceptance of a friend

I have this friend, an amazing girlfriend I have known since second grade.  We were acquaintances, classmates until our senior year of high school.  That year we took an AP Biology class first thing in the morning.  It was an interesting dynamic, 3 girls, 3 boys and probably the best high school science teacher out there.  The class was competitve, the coursework was challenging and in that atmosphere our friendship blossommed.  At times we excelled, other times we slacked off together.  We still talk about that class, about that year and how it solidified our friendship.


We went our seperate ways for college but still remained in contact.  She was there to celebrate when I became engaged, complete with complimentary and embarrassing blow-up doll and other silly gifts.  She was there the day of my wedding, the one who did my hair and make-up and made me look gorgeous.  She was also the one driving me to the chapel, asking if I was sure and offering a last minute trip to the beach instead.  You may think, well that isn't supportive but I would strongly disagree.  For me this girl, this friend, was saying, "No matter what, I am here.  Nothing you could do would surprise me or shock me out of being here for you."


 Loyalty and honesty, the two traits that have carried our friendship throughout the years. I chose the marriage/mommy route and she chose the career route. The two are not mutually exclusive but they were the roles we chose to play in our lives.  Our lives became busier, we didn't talk every day or even every few months but there was always an ease when contact was made again.  We could pick up right where we left off.  There were no expectations placed on the friendship. 


Flash forward to the birth of my first daughter.  She was born in the middle of the night.  Jason left early in the morning, around 5 to grab a bite to eat and refresh himself.  I was in the hospital room alone with my baby for the first time.  I began to panic, feeling an unnerving amount of fear and insecurity about my new role as a mother.  How in the world was I going to manage caring for a tiny little baby?  Overwhelmed with my feelings of ineptness, I picked up the phone.  I could have called my mom or my husband but I knew exactly who to call.  I dialed her number and woke her at 5:30 am to share the news.  I still remember to this day our conversation.  After a few minutes of adjusting to the early hour, she was so reassuring and sure of me, more sure than I was at the moment.  And I knew I could trust her, trust her judgement.  I began to relax and trust in myself and embrace this new role of a mother without insecurity. 


Our friendship is not one sided; she would be the first to confirm that.  I have also received my share of phone calls over the years from her.  I hope I have given her the same sense of understanding and acceptance that she has given to me.  Occasionally we are lucky enough to get together for drinks or dinner but these are few and widespread moments.  Our friendship survives on phone tag and a willingness to be flexible,honest and open.


Just yesterday we talked and we laughed and shared stories.  I told her of my latest confessional.  I may not be the feminist I thought I was!  I uttered a phrase over the weekend I never imagined I would say.  In frustration I told my husband to..."be the man already and make the decision!"  I think before I had even finished the sentence my face was red and I was trying to pull my words back in.  She and I laughed over this statement but we also discussed it in seriousness.  I needed to say that I was feeling a need to be taken care of.  Gulp.  Cringe.  Release of control.  I can laugh about it now but in the moment I was appalled at my statement, and my husband was equally taken back.


 I dont know if anyone else can relate but I have a hard time relinquishing control.  I also put immense pressure on myself to be strong, to be on top of things, to be in charge.  In that statement, so against my nature, I was expressing a need for release. I am struggling with the dynamic of change and control right now in my life.    The desire to have struggles taken care of for me, although agaisnt my nature, is very strong for me right now. 

  It was not until I could talk and laugh with a friend that I gained new perspective on this need for rest in my life.  At first, I struggled and rebelled against admitting this desire.   I was embarrassed and slightly irked at my weakness.  However, through laughter and openness with a friend I was given fresh perspective and was able to stop judging myself and breathe a sigh of relief. 

It isn't weak to admit when you are overwhelmed.  It isn't weakness to ask and accept help.  It isn't weakness to relinquish control and expectation to someone you trust and love.  Often times for me the control is more about remaining safe and avoiding vulnerabilty.  I feel completely naked and vulnerable in my life right now; in my role as a mother and also just as a woman.  Circumstances and events have troubled me, rattled me.  In talking with my friend, in being unguarded and truthful, I was able to feel a sense of relief, a reprieve, and a validation of my self. 

Sometimes I think we just need someone else, someone outside our situation to provide fresh perspective, new insight.  It's wonderful when that person is a friend, one who says, "Nothing you can do or say would shock me out of being here for you!"  Life is much easier when you can be vulnerable and real and still be supported and accepted. 

www.holdonandbelieve/blogspot.com

Lessons from a five year old

My five year old is fiercely independent and headstrong.  I am putting a positive spin on what I want to call stubborness today.  I've spent the morning arguing with her to cooperate in every aspect of my schedule and goals for the day.  She is not normally uncooperative, unless of course she has a different agenda or ideal for the day.  She can be very single-minded.  This vexes me.  It also inspires and challenges me.  I do not wish for her to be disruptive or adamant but I can appreciate a steadfast and strongwilled approach to one's own wants and needs.  She would be hardpressed to settle for anything less than what she expects or wants.  She does not give in to tantrums or fits, I do not allow that.  But she presses on, persists, is not discouraged, does not settle.  I love that about her.  I want to encourage her to not settle, to be unrelentless in the pursuit of her own desires.  More so I am sure because she is a girl, she is also a third child, the baby girl.  It would be very easy for her to just follow patterns set before her and fall into others expectations of her but she never has. 
Today it is presenting a problem because I cannot allow her to go to Caleb's appointments in her underwear and she is adamant that it is naked time.  It has been one battle after another this morning.  I am seasoned enough as a mother to know you pick your battles.  I found myself this morning entirely frustrated with her stubborness and wanting to stifle that will in her.  But I will not.  I will challenge her to be flexible, to bend and not be so rigid, but not to break.  I will challenge myself to not quickly and easily turn to the negative spin of the situation or the character.  I am not like her.  I easily bend.
I have moments of "I won't back down" attitude but for the most part I am laid back and flexible.


I do not have a need to rock the boat, I have a need to make sure everyone on the boat has a life jacket on and is having a great time.  I am not discrediting that role.  I appreciate my nurturing aspect.  Others I would guess just want to be on the boat, enjoy the ride.  Others still, like my Vanny want to steer the boat. 
Today I am challenged by my five year old.  The nurturer in me wants to value her character and personality as it it is.  The disciplinarion and logistical person in me is having a hard time rising to the challenge.  Somedays it seems like such a fine balance! 


http://holdonandbelieve.blogspot.com/

attepmting to step out of a comfort zone

"Define sucess first and the rest will follow."  This piece of advice is sticking with me, even into the midmorning, rushing around aspect of my day.  So I will try to figure out what it means in relation to me.
I am attempting to challenge myself this year with my writing in general and my blogging specifically.  I have always loved to write, to read, to invest in stories from others and to view my own stories in print.  There is something so real and alive and honest about the written word and the sharing of ideas that speaks to me.  I would spend hours in my room as a child and teenager just writing; short stories, poetry, journal entries, letters to friends and family.  Often, my mother would make me write out my feelings or words of apology and explanation for my behavior or attitude.  I resented doing it at the time but I believe it helped savage my moody relationship with my mother.  Emotions I could disguise with my attitude and actions, I could never disguise in my writing.  I find that still true, when I write the walls do come down. I find it harder to voice emotion and explanation and struggle in conversation.  However, it is not as difficult for me to face and share these things as I write.  

 I had a friend challenge me the other day after reading a blog post, stating that a sense of hesistation was still present in my writing, in my blogging.  It was noted that I tend to stop short of fully exposing myself, I am still in part disguise.  I knew it, I sensed it, I just was not aware it was obvious to others.  There is an absolute hesistancy in my writing and my sharing.  I, like most people, feel a need to safeguard myself and avoid vulnerability.  I am attempting to challenge myself to break through this resistance and avoidance of authenticity and honesty. 

What I have discovered in the last two years of my life is that there is great beauty and growth in true vulnerability.  I have experienced incredible moments when my words, and my sharing have touched others and helped others.  Moments of relatability and openness that have helped me realize that no one is ever alone and that life is not lived in a vacuum, that we are meant to share and help and struggle together. 
I think of a great verse from Isaiah 61, "...beauty from the ashes."  This imagery has always touched and inspired me, that out of destruction and despair, beauty and hope can be created.  Any beauty that has come out of my life is a direct result of God's grace, not my own power or work.  I am attempting to go forward in my life in all aspects.  There are days when the ash in my life is so evident, it sticks to everything, distorts and grays everything.  Many days when I wonder what beauty will come of all of this;  and when will the beauty be more evident than the destruction? 
Today that advice is sticking to me like a taunt or a challenge.  How do I define sucess in my writing?  Popularity, nah.  Appreciation, maybe slightly, I can be vain.  I often wish for understanding, for others to suddenly have an "aha" moment concerning me and what ever struggle I am going through.  I have issues that concern and inspire me. Mothering is so very precious to me, a gift and role I treasure.  I often wish to provide a different perspective or insight into all I am experiencing as a mother.  But even that isnt the true definiton of sucess for me.  An appreciation for the challenges and accomplishments of a special needs mother would be a wonderful byproduct of my writing but it isnt the goal.  I think the goal for me is to reach a place of vulnerabilty and openness and to not back down for anything or anyone.  To not deny any of myself or rearrange myself or question myself.  It's my own battle, I struggle mostly against myself, although others can easily join forces against me. 

I'm guessing the struggle to be authentic and true is valid to many people.  It is hard to live fully exposed, to be willing to share openly, without hesistation.  The hesistation is a safety measure to avoid being hurt, criticized, ostracized even.  The hesitation can become a stumbling block or even a full blockade.  Comfort is always easier but it isnt always as rewarding.   So I will attempt to be fully me, attempt to work through my vulnerability and see what follows. 
Or maybe I should just write romance novels, that might be easier and funner.