Monday, April 15, 2013
Baby Girl
I had great plans. I was very good at planning. I planned how my pregnancy would go, when my baby would come, and how I would react after she was here. Too bad that nothing with kids ever goes according to plan.
About 35 weeks my twin sister was visiting and I happened to mention that my hands and feet itched. I didn't think it was a big deal. They itched at the very beginning of my pregnancy, but then it went away. She paused for a second and in her "pretend like this isn't a big deal" voice told me I probably wanted to call my doctor. Since it was Saturday, I waited until Monday, but knew that it might actually be a big deal when she told me to come in immediately for testing.
By the time the test came back I was 36 weeks. Almost 37 weeks, which is technically full term. The preliminary results showed possible cholestasis and so we did more tests and waited for the more conclusive tests to come back. Thursday was my first non-stress test and by Friday I was in the hospital for observation for cholestasis and possible HELP syndrome or preeclampsia (neither is good but HELLP syndrome is REALLY not good). I was kept in the hospital over the weekend and part of the worst part was not knowing how long I was going to be there. Every time I talked to another specialty doctor, resident, nurse, or midwife I'd get a different answer. P was smart and listened to the mid- to worst-case scenario, but I kept thinking that maybe they'd let me go home as early as possible.
P was amazing, going back and forth between the home and the hospital, getting the nursery ready and trying to take care of me and keep me in good spirits. His sister and her best friend cleaned out my mess of an office and some wonderful people from church came over on Monday to help paint and set up the changing table and crib. I hated asking for help, but found that I didn't really have to ask. People just did.
I was borderline on the preeclampsia and the cholestasis wasn't horrible, but the problem with cholestasis is that one of the side effects can be still birth. My doctor was okay with letting the pregnancy go as long as possible with bi-weekly non-stress tests, but the high risk doctor told us that we'd need to deliver at 37 weeks. That gave me three days until delivery instead of three weeks. After two days of observation, I got to go home late Sunday afternoon, knowing that I would be back on Tuesday to be induced.
Tuesday came, but the baby didn't. Baby girl found she actually wanted to stay in for a little while longer. Long story short, Baby Girl came on Wednesday night close to midnight by c-section. She was wonderful and healthy and cute and I have proof.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Because February is Coming Soon . . .
So, it's once again been forever since I've posted. In July I had an amazing opportunity to go to DC and learn about teaching Shakespeare for a month. In August P went to China for three weeks. And we also started telling people that we're expecting.
The big day comes around February 13th and we're really excited. Between June, when we found out, and now, when we're anxiously waiting, has been a lot of sweat, tears, and, well, vomit.
Baby Girl is doing well and growing up really fast. I'm the one that's been struggling just a bit. I've been really lucky to have the job that I do and the insurance I do since I've had morning sickness since the 5th week and for the last several months have had only one day that I haven't been sick at least one (or sometimes 12) times.
That's the bad news. Things were hard throughout, but I finally got some extra help in October. Igor came into my life about three weeks into the month, as did Xena. Who? Igor is my IV and Xena is my Zofran pump. Igor is only in my life on and off (as needed), but Xena is my constant companion. As you can probably tell, P named them. Igor, because he limps after me. Xena, because she fights the evil nausea.
Right now each day is a chance to "just keep swimming" and to get to enjoy having Baby Girl along for the ride. I love to feel her kick and I can't wait to meet her. (Actually, I'm hoping to get as close to my due date as possible so that I can spend as much time with Baby Girl as possible before going back to teaching and spending the rest of the school year away from her. The good news is that my momma will be watching her for 3 days a week and there's an awesome day care that is run by a family friend where she'll be the other 2. She'll be in good hands.
Wednesday, June 06, 2012
The Summer of Awesome
So, this summer I have the chance to actually go with P on his adventures, which means we're spending 3 weeks in Europe. I'm not afraid to post that online as 1) I try to avoid using complete real names and 2) my amazing brother-in-law and sister-in-law are staying with us and so I'm not worried somone will break into our house while we're gone.
This is actually our second week out, We started Memorial Day Weekend by traveling to Budapest, Hungary. P spent a week auditing a place just outside of the city while I explored and saw the sights. The weekend was Prague followed by a week in Antwerp and then P's done with work and takes a week and a half of vacation so that we can see a little bit of France (Paris, Loire Valley, and St. Malo) and a little bit of England (Stonehenge, etc. and London).
My twin is having a baby in June (okay, any day now) and so I'm way excited to see her once I get back. I feel bad that I'll be missing P's family being in town, but it's the only time I'll actually be able to see her and the baby since I'll be leaving for July.
What's in July? A month all about Shakespeare. I'm in a month-long institute all about Shakespeare and so I'll be gone from June 30th through July 29th.
It will be a bit hard to go back in August (I might need a vacation from my vacation), but I'm really excited for this summer and the amazing opportunities I have.
I've been sending my family pages upon pages about my adventures (about 3 pages per day), but I'm debating about whether or not to post them because they are so incredibly long.
I'm a bit home sick at this point, but I'm really just excited to have a chance to see the world.
Monday, April 16, 2012
What P's Been Up To
So, I still haven't come up with a good alias for P. He wants to be known as Sexy, I think that he should be Techy or something like that. Not exactly like that, or else I'd just call him by that name. It just sounds a bit off. I threaten him with Grumpy or Sneezy or other names depending on the day. I really would call him Prince Charming, but that's just a bit schmoopy for my tastes. If you have any ideas, just let me know.
Whatever he decides on being called, here's what he's been up to.
February was India, right now he's in Argentina.
Since I don't have any current picture of him to share, here's some from when he went to India. You'll notice that there are no actual pictures of India, but he did take pictures of his side trips to Jordan and Italy on the way home.
Here's my favorite picture. This one's at the River Jordan. He also went to the Dead Sea. I'm not posting that one, as I wouldn't like it if my significant other posted pics of me in a bathing suit.
I was really tempted to still put it up, though, because it's the last photographic evidence of P's wedding ring before it slipped off into the Dead Sea.
A couple more shots . . .
Petra
The Colosseum
Other Cool Rome Place I Should Know
So, P really does have a cool job, but I have to admit it that I really do miss him while he's gone. The last trip in February was 3 1/2 weeks. This one is only 3. And the one in May is also for three weeks, but I get to join him half way through. So, it really is a lot of travel, but thanks to things like Skype and email we get to talk an awful lot.
Whatever he decides on being called, here's what he's been up to.
February was India, right now he's in Argentina.
Since I don't have any current picture of him to share, here's some from when he went to India. You'll notice that there are no actual pictures of India, but he did take pictures of his side trips to Jordan and Italy on the way home.
Here's my favorite picture. This one's at the River Jordan. He also went to the Dead Sea. I'm not posting that one, as I wouldn't like it if my significant other posted pics of me in a bathing suit.
I was really tempted to still put it up, though, because it's the last photographic evidence of P's wedding ring before it slipped off into the Dead Sea.
A couple more shots . . .
Petra
The Colosseum
Other Cool Rome Place I Should Know
So, P really does have a cool job, but I have to admit it that I really do miss him while he's gone. The last trip in February was 3 1/2 weeks. This one is only 3. And the one in May is also for three weeks, but I get to join him half way through. So, it really is a lot of travel, but thanks to things like Skype and email we get to talk an awful lot.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Some Days are Just Hard
Today was one of the hardest days of my teaching career. Early in the day I found out that one of my students had passed away suddenly yesterday. No one knows a lot, but I was told that he took his own life.
***
So, I wrote that first part of this post on Thursday, and now that it's Sunday, I've finally had the courage to continue. I thought a lot before I posted the cause of death, but since I keep everything on this blog as anonymous as possible, I think it's important for anyone reading to understand. Death is hard, but the fact that it was suicide somehow seems to make it that much harder.
Thursday was surreal. A counselor came in second block to talk to me, and since grades are due next week I assumed it was bad news about one of her students. I was unprepared for what she had to say. She was kind and took me to my room before giving me the news. I was absolutely shocked. Out of all of the students whose emotional well-being I worry about, he wasn't on my radar. Now, I had worked a lot with this student on trying to bring and keep up his grades last semester, but I don't remember ever seeing this student looking down or lonely. I saw him walking back to school from the park with other students after school. In between classes he was always talking to the other students. He was always laughing, talking, joking. He was always polite, but he never seemed afraid to tell it to me like it was. He was willing to help me as a teacher. He could be earnest and serious, but I don't remember ever seeing him withdrawn or sad.
I can say that last part with pretty good authority, since in the last three or four days I've thought through every interaction that I can remember having with him. I remember talking to him about the differences between his former school and this one. I remember our discussions about his SSR books. About sports (especially football). About 4H. About four-wheeling. And through all of this I never saw any indication that he was going to end things the way he did.
Our last conversation was about the book Summer Rules by Robert Lipsyte. He had just finished it the class before and was looking for the previous books. I told him that I didn't have them, but that I'd check the library catalog and let him know next time.
When I heard that he was gone I just couldn't believe it. He had just been there. How was I going to tell the other kids? I didn't take things too well at first, so I was kindly offered a little time to process and someone would take me next class (a study hall) for the first little bit. After a fifteen-minute conversation with my mom I went back to class. I didn't have my cell phone, so I couldn't call my sister or husband, so after a few more minutes of pacing I went back to class. My mind wouldn't stop racing and I had to give it something to do.
The hardest part was trying to act like things were normal. They weren't, but most students didn't know yet, and I wasn't supposed to talk about it unless the student had somehow found out before an official announcement was made.
The principal and the boy's counselor came to let the next class know what had happened, since the boy had been in that class. I was grateful for them for making the announcement, but on the other hand, I couldn't wait for them to leave so that we could close the door and grieve together as a class. I had a normal agenda on the board (SSR, then mock trial work), so that students who needed a sense of normalcy could have it, but then it also gave students who needed time to cry, to talk, to think an opportunity to do so. I still don't know if that was right, but it worked at the time as well as I think anything could have. I had another teacher stay with the majority of my class while I shepherded kids to the bathroom, the counselor, wherever they needed. The class finally finished and the students went off to their next class, each trying to find a way to cope with the boy's death the best way they knew how.
The last block of the day the principal came over the intercom to announce the news to the entire student body. I made it about halfway through the block until I needed a few minutes to myself. The TA watched the class while I just took a few more minutes to cry it out some more. I had noticed that one of the students who was absent had been in the same seat as the boy. The empty seat was just a constant reminder of who should have been there the block before. After a little bit, I made it back to the class and just talked to the students about questions over the mock trial, trying to enjoy my time with them. I lectured them briefly about safety over the long weekend, the bell rang, and they were gone.
I worry about the kids over this four-day weekend (okay, three for me, four for them), but I just have to hope that they'll be there for each other. That they'll know that they're not alone. That they'll know that they're cared for and that there are so many options available for them.
So, for now I don't have any words of wisdom, but I know that this boy, like each one of my students do, made a difference in my life. His warm spirit, love of the outdoors, sense of humor, appreciation of reading and books, made me smile, made me work harder, made me appreciate my job. I will miss him.
***
So, I wrote that first part of this post on Thursday, and now that it's Sunday, I've finally had the courage to continue. I thought a lot before I posted the cause of death, but since I keep everything on this blog as anonymous as possible, I think it's important for anyone reading to understand. Death is hard, but the fact that it was suicide somehow seems to make it that much harder.
Thursday was surreal. A counselor came in second block to talk to me, and since grades are due next week I assumed it was bad news about one of her students. I was unprepared for what she had to say. She was kind and took me to my room before giving me the news. I was absolutely shocked. Out of all of the students whose emotional well-being I worry about, he wasn't on my radar. Now, I had worked a lot with this student on trying to bring and keep up his grades last semester, but I don't remember ever seeing this student looking down or lonely. I saw him walking back to school from the park with other students after school. In between classes he was always talking to the other students. He was always laughing, talking, joking. He was always polite, but he never seemed afraid to tell it to me like it was. He was willing to help me as a teacher. He could be earnest and serious, but I don't remember ever seeing him withdrawn or sad.
I can say that last part with pretty good authority, since in the last three or four days I've thought through every interaction that I can remember having with him. I remember talking to him about the differences between his former school and this one. I remember our discussions about his SSR books. About sports (especially football). About 4H. About four-wheeling. And through all of this I never saw any indication that he was going to end things the way he did.
Our last conversation was about the book Summer Rules by Robert Lipsyte. He had just finished it the class before and was looking for the previous books. I told him that I didn't have them, but that I'd check the library catalog and let him know next time.
When I heard that he was gone I just couldn't believe it. He had just been there. How was I going to tell the other kids? I didn't take things too well at first, so I was kindly offered a little time to process and someone would take me next class (a study hall) for the first little bit. After a fifteen-minute conversation with my mom I went back to class. I didn't have my cell phone, so I couldn't call my sister or husband, so after a few more minutes of pacing I went back to class. My mind wouldn't stop racing and I had to give it something to do.
The hardest part was trying to act like things were normal. They weren't, but most students didn't know yet, and I wasn't supposed to talk about it unless the student had somehow found out before an official announcement was made.
The principal and the boy's counselor came to let the next class know what had happened, since the boy had been in that class. I was grateful for them for making the announcement, but on the other hand, I couldn't wait for them to leave so that we could close the door and grieve together as a class. I had a normal agenda on the board (SSR, then mock trial work), so that students who needed a sense of normalcy could have it, but then it also gave students who needed time to cry, to talk, to think an opportunity to do so. I still don't know if that was right, but it worked at the time as well as I think anything could have. I had another teacher stay with the majority of my class while I shepherded kids to the bathroom, the counselor, wherever they needed. The class finally finished and the students went off to their next class, each trying to find a way to cope with the boy's death the best way they knew how.
The last block of the day the principal came over the intercom to announce the news to the entire student body. I made it about halfway through the block until I needed a few minutes to myself. The TA watched the class while I just took a few more minutes to cry it out some more. I had noticed that one of the students who was absent had been in the same seat as the boy. The empty seat was just a constant reminder of who should have been there the block before. After a little bit, I made it back to the class and just talked to the students about questions over the mock trial, trying to enjoy my time with them. I lectured them briefly about safety over the long weekend, the bell rang, and they were gone.
I worry about the kids over this four-day weekend (okay, three for me, four for them), but I just have to hope that they'll be there for each other. That they'll know that they're not alone. That they'll know that they're cared for and that there are so many options available for them.
So, for now I don't have any words of wisdom, but I know that this boy, like each one of my students do, made a difference in my life. His warm spirit, love of the outdoors, sense of humor, appreciation of reading and books, made me smile, made me work harder, made me appreciate my job. I will miss him.
Thursday, February 09, 2012
Happy Holidays or How I Ended up Running a 5k with Pneumonia
Usually this past holiday season would have been filled with singing carols, baking springerle and running half marathons. Instead it was filled with doctor's visits and a hacking Cough.*
I got to spend Thanksgiving this year in North Carolina with P's family. I was really excited. I got to see my nieces and nephews out there and everyone was going to be able to gather at the same time. Since P is one of six kids, that's a big deal. It was scheduled to be a packed weekend with cooking and playing and fun. We even worked it out so that we could run a turkey trot on Thanksgiving morning.
When Thanksgiving morning came along I was feeling pretty lousy. I a bit of a cough, maybe just a cold, I thought, starting on Tuesday night and by the time Thursday came along I was feeling like I'd been hit over the head and chest with a ten-bag pound of rice. I was determined, though. I had decided to raise money again for St. Jude's and the half-marathon was in just over a week.
The morning was beautiful, if hot, and it seemed like a perfect chance to run. By the time I hit mile marker 1 I knew it was a bad idea. I was having trouble breathing out of my nose and mouth and I was ready for a drink. No problem, I thought, since most 5ks have a water stop at mile marker 2. Not only was the second mile marker water-stop-less, it also marked the beginning of a steep incline. A long, steep incline. I just kept going, but by that time I knew that if I didn't want to see my breakfast come to greet me again that I'd have to take walk breaks. I was sad, but I figured it was all about finishing and having a good time.
I love races. I usually train alone and I don't mind the long miles in solitude. Something about a race, though, brings out the loud side of my personality and I suddenly become talkative and somewhat-annoyingly chipper. I love encouraging people and trying to help them reach their goals. During this race I met a nice woman who was running at a pretty even pace with me and so we took turns pulling ahead and falling behind each other, giving each other little snippets of encouragement as we passed. With a little help, I finished the race, and felt good as I crossed the finish line. What felt even better was drinking a whole bunch of water in the finish area.
What followed the race was a wonderful Thanksgiving day filled with cooking (P's famous cheesecake, two to three containers of funeral potatoes, turkey, ham, greenbean casserole, jello salad, salad, corn, and rolls). I'm sure I'm forgetting something. Dinner was wonderful. I had a blast eating and playing with the kids. P worked on computers while I read books and listened to the kids scream with laughter outside. Good times.
As the weekend continued, though, I felt worse and worse. P and I went straight to the airport to a Walgreen's Take Care Clinic. There I was told that I had wheezing, but that it wasn't pneumonia anything so I was given some prednisone and sent home. Fastforward to Monday and a different doctor's appointment complete with a trip to the lab for an x-ray and I found out that it was indeed pneumonia.
The next three weeks were so hard as I was unable to go to work (okay, maybe I'm a workaholic) and had to stay home. Three weeks of lesson plans, grading papers at home, and having to have someone else administer finals. Not fun. Work has unlimited sick days, so thank heavens my job wasn't in jeopardy, but I did have to apply for FMLA and take care of things that way as well.
Christmas was still a bit tough sickness-wise, but wonderful as we got to spend Christmas eve with family. Have I ever mentioned how much I love holidays?
It's been over a month and a half and I had a week of feeling better followed by another two to three weeks of sick. I've had some medical tests to figure out why I get sick so much, but so far we don't really know anything. I'm not really concerned, because I've been getting bronchitis two to three times a year since I started teaching, but the specialist did have a point when he told me that this isn't something that's normal. I'm worried that I'm allergic or reacting to something at work, since I had some of the same trouble in high school, but I really don't know anything. And probably won't for awhile.
The funny thing is how sunny I've been feeling lately. I know I haven't felt well lately, but I'm just so thankful for everything that I've been given. There are so many miracles daily in my life that I feel lucky to have everything.
Okay, I know that was cheesy, but it was true so I had to say it.
Oh well. How's that for catching up on the blog entries?
See you all soon.
*Those who know my family know what our cough sounds like. Also, the above sentence doesn't have a typo, the word deserves a capital C.) In college, my sister J was even nicknamed HAL due to her amazing coughing that made it sound like she was Hacking up A Lung.
I got to spend Thanksgiving this year in North Carolina with P's family. I was really excited. I got to see my nieces and nephews out there and everyone was going to be able to gather at the same time. Since P is one of six kids, that's a big deal. It was scheduled to be a packed weekend with cooking and playing and fun. We even worked it out so that we could run a turkey trot on Thanksgiving morning.
When Thanksgiving morning came along I was feeling pretty lousy. I a bit of a cough, maybe just a cold, I thought, starting on Tuesday night and by the time Thursday came along I was feeling like I'd been hit over the head and chest with a ten-bag pound of rice. I was determined, though. I had decided to raise money again for St. Jude's and the half-marathon was in just over a week.
The morning was beautiful, if hot, and it seemed like a perfect chance to run. By the time I hit mile marker 1 I knew it was a bad idea. I was having trouble breathing out of my nose and mouth and I was ready for a drink. No problem, I thought, since most 5ks have a water stop at mile marker 2. Not only was the second mile marker water-stop-less, it also marked the beginning of a steep incline. A long, steep incline. I just kept going, but by that time I knew that if I didn't want to see my breakfast come to greet me again that I'd have to take walk breaks. I was sad, but I figured it was all about finishing and having a good time.
I love races. I usually train alone and I don't mind the long miles in solitude. Something about a race, though, brings out the loud side of my personality and I suddenly become talkative and somewhat-annoyingly chipper. I love encouraging people and trying to help them reach their goals. During this race I met a nice woman who was running at a pretty even pace with me and so we took turns pulling ahead and falling behind each other, giving each other little snippets of encouragement as we passed. With a little help, I finished the race, and felt good as I crossed the finish line. What felt even better was drinking a whole bunch of water in the finish area.
What followed the race was a wonderful Thanksgiving day filled with cooking (P's famous cheesecake, two to three containers of funeral potatoes, turkey, ham, greenbean casserole, jello salad, salad, corn, and rolls). I'm sure I'm forgetting something. Dinner was wonderful. I had a blast eating and playing with the kids. P worked on computers while I read books and listened to the kids scream with laughter outside. Good times.
As the weekend continued, though, I felt worse and worse. P and I went straight to the airport to a Walgreen's Take Care Clinic. There I was told that I had wheezing, but that it wasn't pneumonia anything so I was given some prednisone and sent home. Fastforward to Monday and a different doctor's appointment complete with a trip to the lab for an x-ray and I found out that it was indeed pneumonia.
The next three weeks were so hard as I was unable to go to work (okay, maybe I'm a workaholic) and had to stay home. Three weeks of lesson plans, grading papers at home, and having to have someone else administer finals. Not fun. Work has unlimited sick days, so thank heavens my job wasn't in jeopardy, but I did have to apply for FMLA and take care of things that way as well.
Christmas was still a bit tough sickness-wise, but wonderful as we got to spend Christmas eve with family. Have I ever mentioned how much I love holidays?
It's been over a month and a half and I had a week of feeling better followed by another two to three weeks of sick. I've had some medical tests to figure out why I get sick so much, but so far we don't really know anything. I'm not really concerned, because I've been getting bronchitis two to three times a year since I started teaching, but the specialist did have a point when he told me that this isn't something that's normal. I'm worried that I'm allergic or reacting to something at work, since I had some of the same trouble in high school, but I really don't know anything. And probably won't for awhile.
The funny thing is how sunny I've been feeling lately. I know I haven't felt well lately, but I'm just so thankful for everything that I've been given. There are so many miracles daily in my life that I feel lucky to have everything.
Okay, I know that was cheesy, but it was true so I had to say it.
Oh well. How's that for catching up on the blog entries?
See you all soon.
*Those who know my family know what our cough sounds like. Also, the above sentence doesn't have a typo, the word deserves a capital C.) In college, my sister J was even nicknamed HAL due to her amazing coughing that made it sound like she was Hacking up A Lung.
Keeping A Record
So, Sister L gave a great lesson in during Young Women on Sunday about keeping a record and it really gave me pause. I used to use this blog as a sort of a record about my life, but I've been quite lax lately.
Time to write about what's been going on. I'm sure by now most of my friends have figured this blog to be dead, but I'm resolved to talk about what's going on with my life.
Time to write about what's been going on. I'm sure by now most of my friends have figured this blog to be dead, but I'm resolved to talk about what's going on with my life.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Bread Making
So, after the popovers came the bread. My twin made the mistake about telling me all about her amazing exploits in the realm of bread. She had found a book and checked it out from the library all about making bread in 5 minutes.
When she explained it to me it all sounded way too complicated, but when I was able to get my hands on a copy of the book (and some Youtube videos) it suddenly was all too easy. I ended up buying the Healthy Bread in 5 Minutes version and baked and baked and baked. (I went a little crazy with the bread making and had two different kinds in my fridge at all times.) Since P is trying to avoid having too many calories a day having all of that bread around was a bit hard.
I've since come to my senses and only have one bread dough in the fridge at a time, but I do like feeling like a homemaker.
Here are some pictures of the breads and bagels I ended up with.
(I know this isn't the most witty or excited blog post ever, but I thought I'd keep you guys somewhat updated.)
When she explained it to me it all sounded way too complicated, but when I was able to get my hands on a copy of the book (and some Youtube videos) it suddenly was all too easy. I ended up buying the Healthy Bread in 5 Minutes version and baked and baked and baked. (I went a little crazy with the bread making and had two different kinds in my fridge at all times.) Since P is trying to avoid having too many calories a day having all of that bread around was a bit hard.
I've since come to my senses and only have one bread dough in the fridge at a time, but I do like feeling like a homemaker.
Here are some pictures of the breads and bagels I ended up with.
(I know this isn't the most witty or excited blog post ever, but I thought I'd keep you guys somewhat updated.)
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