Growing Pains

Well hey y'all! I guess this is becoming a monthly blog rather than a weekly. But I felt compelled to give an update on my life to everyone. I Facebook/Vaguebook as often as I can, but I know a lot of people have been checking in more than normal lately with everything going on. Plus I feel the need to write everything in this blog, so that one day when the baby is old enough, I can sit down and read to him EVERY SINGLE THING HE DID TO ME!!!

Okay, not really, but...really. Did any of you moms feel like that?! At least for a little while? I love this child more than life, but seriously kid. Give momma a minute.

Let's start at the very beginning (a very good place to start! When you sing you begin with...oh. Sorry.) 

On December 20, 2015, the day I now like to affectionately refer to as Doomsday 2015, I was walking out the front door to go finish up the last of my Christmas shopping. As I opened the front door Chandler, our yellow Lab, bolted out of the house which he has NEVER done before. I screamed for Andrew who came running outside, and by the time he made it out Chandler was halfway through the neighborhood. Andrew told me to grab his keys so that he could drive and hopefully catch him. Well, in all the flurry I just simply forgot I was pregnant or something. I took off faster than I should have, grabbed the keys and ran back outside. Somehow in the process my jacket got stuck on the screen door and I didn't realize it. I tossed the keys to Andrew across the yard, and in doing so I somehow propelled myself off the porch and went flying through the air. My jacket was caught, and the zipper completely ripped off. As I was flying, face first, I distinctly thought "Don't land on your belly!!" so I twisted myself around as I flew. The next thing I know, I landed about 6 feet out from the house, on solid concrete, on my back and tailbone. I hit HARD. I don't know how to put into words the level of impact I had when I hit the ground. So hard in fact that both of my shoes flew off my feet and went back and hit the house. 

I had the wind knocked out of me, and I immediately knew something was wrong. Aside from not being able to breathe, I was in the most unbearable pain I had ever experienced in my entire life. I was shaken to the core. I couldn't move, not even one inch, and there was actually a brief period where I questioned if I was paralyzed. I've watched enough Grey's Anatomy to know the basics, so I began running through a mental checklist. I told Andrew, who was watching in horror, to leave me where I was and not move me, to go catch Chandler, and then we would go from there. I began to try to wiggle my toes - check. I tried to wiggle my feet - check. I tried to move a millimeter - NOT check. I scratched my leg to see if I felt it - check. Finally I managed to get myself to roll onto my side somewhat to attempt to breathe. The pain of turning was excruciating. Andrew by this point, with the help of the neighbors, had caught Chandler and put him in his cage and was by my side.

I initially asked for him to call an ambulance because I couldn't move. But then I decided if he could pick me up, then he could sit me in the car and get me to the ER. All I could think of was the baby. I needed to have him checked right away. So Andrew scooped me up and rushed me to the ER, calling the pregnancy triage unit on the way to let them know we were coming. They met me outside right away with a wheelchair and I was whisked off. By this point I was crying, shaking, holding my stomach, and just praying out loud for this baby to be okay. Even the nurses were looking at me frightened as I was describing my fall and how I was feeling.

I'll spare you the details, but the rest of the day was a big blur. Nurses, doctors, OB/GYN's, needles, monitors, pain medicine, etc. My mom came and sat with us, and they kept the baby on a monitor all day. I wasn't allowed to move while on the monitor, and the position I had to lay in was excruciating. No. Actually there should be a worse word, but I don't think it exists. Every time the doctor did have to move me I screamed and screamed, and cried. Andrew and my mom tried to keep me calm and distracted, but there was no ignoring this type of pain. Ultimately, in the end the baby was fine and seemed unaware anything had happened. My placenta had not ruptured, and he was still in his safe little pocket. After a long day and night they decided I could go home.

We quickly learned that I was unable to walk. Or lay. Or sit. Or move. I couldn't go to the bathroom by myself or even turn over in bed. Heck, I couldn't even get into bed by myself. Andrew instantly became my full-time care giver. I had a horrible, restless night of crying and pain. But above all, I was VERY aware that I wasn't feeling the baby move. At all.

I called my OB for follow-up first thing the next morning, and she said to go back to ER/Triage immediately to check on the baby. So we had a basic repeat of the day before. Except now I was in worse pain than before, so my screaming was louder and my crying was more frequent. Again, after hours of monitoring, the baby turned out to be just fine. He was just sleeping and resting after all the chaos. I cried tears of relief, and was sent back home again.

The past 2-3 weeks have been...well, trying. I couldn't go back to work. For about 5 days, I was unable to even sit up. I could only lie on my side in bed, and anytime I needed to go to the bathroom Andrew had to take me. I couldn't shower. I couldn't eat. I just lived in a blur. Finally, by Christmas Eve I attempted sitting in a recliner for a couple hours and survived. I made it to family Christmas, and propped my feet up all day, but ultimately when I got home that night I was crying and in so much pain I was back at square one. I didn't ever finish my Christmas shopping, I didn't finish some gifts, I just didn't have anything at all in me to even get excited for Christmas. I survived it though.

I've now been on almost 100% bed rest for almost 3 weeks. I can now walk on my own, and sit in a recliner. I can even sit in a chair for about 30 minutes to an hour before it becomes unbearable. I can waddle around the house, and can shower and go to the bathroom. The baby is doing AWESOME. He is kicking more than ever, wiggles all the time, and is looking great on ultrasound! He's growing and cute and squishy. 

We're facing some new obstacles now. Major obstacles. And we know everything turns out okay in the end, but that doesn't make the road there any easier. I am no longer employed. I am not getting into details here, but ultimately my position has been eliminated and I have no job. Which means we lost an ENTIRE household income, just like that. Boom. Gone. We have a baby on the way, and I am only able to work from home, so options are...scarce. I'm trying to get my creative juices flowing and determine just what I'm going to do now. I mean, there has to be something out there. There are surely legitimate work-from-home opportunities out there. My exploring has only begun, this all happened Monday, so I've had but 48 hours to process it all. 

So. Here I sit. At home. Jobless. Pregnant. Broken tailbone. Baby arriving in less than 12 weeks. No idea what is about to happen. And I feel....okay. Truly, I do. I have a peace. I have a sense that a new chapter is about to begin. I feel something is already in line for us, I just don't know what yet. I have a roof over my head. I have the world's absolutely most AMAZING HUSBAND in existence. I cannot EVER stress that enough. This man is my LIFE, always. I have three cute puppies. I have a perfect little boy growing safely inside of me. I am healthy overall, despite the broken bones and crazy pregnancy symptoms. I have my faith. I have people who care about me, who text me and call me and email me every day. And I have truly learned in the last month there are those whom I now realized aren't really so much there for me. Those who don't seem to care, and seem to be wrapped up in themselves and their own issues, and are not interested in anything else. I've learned who I am truly surrounded by at the end of the day, and for those few I am so grateful. 

SO as usual, life will go on. This too shall pass. And any other nice cliches that are appropriate. I refuse to be broken by this (no pun intended), and ultimately at the end of the day I have faith in a positive outcome. I can't wait to meet my baby Kayden Michael and hold him and snuggle him. I can't wait to see what adventure I'm going to get to take next in life with my career - will it be more music? Something creative? Some new work from home adventure? Where will I go?! 

From the bottom of my heart, thank you to anyone reading this who has prayed, lifted us up in good thoughts, send good vibes, called daily to check in on us, sent emails - all of it. You all keep me smiling with all of your Facebook comments and positive vibes. Keep them coming. This adventure, though seemingly almost complete, has really just begun.

Registering, and Showers, and Leg Pain - Oh MY!

So keeping a blog during a crazy weight loss process? No problem. Keeping a blog while planning a WEDDING? Nooooo problem. Keeping a blog while being 19 months, 237 days, 27 hours, and 18 minutes pregnant?

Nope.

So here is your entry of the…month.

So much has been going on lately that it would be almost impossible to update you with everything. So I will hit the big points, and ladies may I beg of you to please chime in when needed? 

We completed our baby registry a few weeks ago, thanks to ALL your input and guidance on telling us which items were must-haves verses which items are has-beens. It helped our swirling heads a LOT. We were able to create a nice little registry, and we’ve already received several awesome items! I have to say, it was pretty exciting walking (Read: Waddling) around the store and scanning things for the baby! There were so many “Awwww” moments I couldn’t possible record them all. At some point my sweet hubby gave up and went and sat down up front and I just kept waddling along. That is actually when I found several of my favorite items! For example, what child (or adult) doesn’t need this?!

(And yes, this is one of the awesome items we already received, and I believe I may have squealed upon opening it!)

So aside from registering, this momma has been going to the doctor constantly, trying to eat healthier, and basically live in survival mode. I have developed this mystery pain. Because I truly felt that being diabetic, having blind spots in my vision and numbness in my legs just wasn’t enough, ya know? Like, I could be doing more for women everywhere if I could develop just ONE more miserable side effect then I, too, could officially call myself pregnant. Well, ask and ye shall receive y’all! I now have mystery pain. Well, actually I don’t think it is a mystery anymore. I saw my OB/GYN this week, and she feels it is most likely Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction (SPD), which is basically pain in my pelvic/groin area caused by relaxed and stretching ligaments that normally keep my pelvic joint aligned properly (here’s looking at you What To Expect for that most excellent definition!) My pain began about three weeks ago, on a scale of 1-10 as around a 4, being “Oh. My. That isn’t comfortable. Did I pull something? I’ll take it easy.” About a week later, it moved to more of a 7, being “No. No, no no. I clearly do NOT remember joining the Olympic Gymnastics team this weekend, and I KNOW I did not do the splits recently.” Then, about a week later it moved to a full on level 10, being “OH HELL TO THE NAW, I CAN’T WALK. DO Y’ALL SEE ME NOT WALKING?! THERE IS A DEMON IN ME GNAWING ON SOMETHING.” And finally, I am where I am today, somewhere around a level 14, being, “Sssssh. Don’t talk to me. I’m not moving today. Or tomorrow. I’m laying horizontally and holding my breath. Don’t touch me.”

So. You know. Sigh and all that. She has ordered me some physical therapy sessions to see if that helps. She said some women don’t feel this particular thing at all, some women feel it mildly, and some women are completely miserable and on bed rest because of it. Guess which I am? No prizes.

But, I would like to end on a much happier note to remind us all of the exciting times! Yesterday my husband’s office threw us our first official Baby Shower!! It was SO sweet of them to do for us, and I can’t even tell you how real it made all of this! We had such a great time seeing all of the sweet gifts for the baby (and there were a LOT OF GIFTS. Y’all went above and beyond!!). And I of course was ooo’ing and awww’ing over the decorations, the fact that it was all royal blue, seeing his little name everywhere, mini bow ties on everything - it was just all SO cute. This same group of people threw us a wedding shower last year, and I can’t get over how generous and loving they are towards us. I’m so grateful Andrew has such a great office environment that cares about us this much!

I didn’t manage to get very many pictures because I was busy taking part in everything, but here are at least a few quick snap shots of the adorable decorations:

Bow Tie straws!

Napkins wrapped around the forks! How cute?!

And the baby's name is.......

Oh, and last, but NOT least. Yes, yes, yes – we have picked a baby name. There isn’t much hiding it now because we’ve told all of our family members, and it was spelled out in the decorations yesterday annnnd it’s going on the official baby shower invitations for the family/friends baby shower. So, after MUCH thinking, and coming up with a narrowed down list of 60 names (hush.), we had actually somewhat settled on a different name because we couldn’t quite click on anything else. It felt okay, but it still didn’t feel…right. We privately started referring to the baby by that name, and it just wasn’t settling in with me. We didn’t share it with anyone, and thought we’d live with it and see what happened.

It was really important to me to incorporate family names into his name if at all possible. Even cooler, we thought, what if we could use my mom’s name somehow? She has six grandsons (and mine will make seven!), so the odds of her getting a namesake are getting slimmer and slimmer. Well, long story short: We were walking across a parking lot the very next day after making our non-committal decision on the other name, when we walked past a van in the parking lot that had a name on it spelled with my mom’s spelling. We both stopped, looked at each other and were like, “Why didn’t we think of that? It’s perfect!” After that, the middle name came immediately, because we wanted to incorporate my dad’s name, too, so we just simply used his middle name. And thus, Kayden Michael Gehring became a real boy! My mom’s middle name is Kaye, my dad’s is Michael, and we knew this was the right name for us. How did we know? Because we cried when we wrote it down. We just had that moment of clarity and knew this was our son.

 We called my parents immediately, they were in a parking lot doing some Christmas shopping, and I told them to keep the car in park. We told them the quick story and the name, and they started to cry. My mom actually started to bawl. She was SO excited! We haven’t looked back since. So yesterday, when I walked in to the shower and saw his little name spelled out on bibs, I teared up again. It was our baby Kayden Michael. He is coming!! 14 weeks to go!!! 

 

Apparently I'm...pregnant.

That’s right. PREGNANT! At least that is what my ENT told me today as his “solution” for my problem.

First of all, I get there and I am taken back by a nurse who seemed a bit odd. Usually, I LOVE nurses. They are the one guaranteed part of my doctor’s visit where I know I will be treated like an actual human being. Nurses rock my world, because they actually seem to have empathy for me, and care and take time. This lady was lacking a few, um, qualities that I usually desire. Perhaps she was having an off day. First of all, we walked PAST the scale in the hallway, and when we got to my room she says, “Any idea how much you weigh? Anything close will do.”

Erm, umm…do I LIE? Do I say, “Well, I have gained TWO HUNDRED POUNDS since I’ve been pregnant, yikes!” and let her pat me on the back in sympathy? Do I completely lie the other way, and pick a weight from somewhere in the vicinity of me being 16 years old, when I could see my toes on the first try when looking straight down? Sadly, I chose to tell the truth, and gave her my best guess based on my weigh in from last week, with the weak disclaimer that I am 5 ½ months pregnant. She seemed satisfied with my nonchalant answer, so much so that she next asked me my best guess on my height.

Next she pulls out the blood pressure cuff, and though I half expected her to ask me to take a stab at guessing that, too, she actually put it on me. When she was done, she looked horrified, and stepped back and asked me if I have a history of high blood pressure. Immediately, my little pregnant heart began to beat faster, as I tried to remember if I took my dose of medicine this morning, and OMG I’M GOING INTO LABOR AREN’T I?!

I briefly explained I have somewhat high blood pressure during pregnancy, am on medicine, and asked what my number was. She says, “Well, it was 119/80. You should probably talk to your OB/GYN about that tomorrow. That’s uncomfortably high. Enough so that I’m really concerned.”

I’m sorry, correct me if I’m wrong – isn’t the general “ideal” number for blood pressure 120/80? I mean, perhaps that is something I made up in my head? And perhaps it isn’t a “perfect” blood pressure, but it isn’t enough to warrant a frightening look and the words “uncomfortably high” and a recommendation for a follow-up with my OB/GYN is it? Heck, I consider it a GREAT day when my BP is anywhere in that vicinity.

Anyway, after she left me, I had to sit in the office for the next hour waiting on the actual ENT to come in, because you know. Doctors. I watched an episode and a half of Gilmore Girls before the door finally opened.

He had my MRI scans, and informed me that yes, I do have a rather large cyst on my sinuses. And oh, by the way, you have Sinus Disease (to which my response was,  “Is that even a real thing?”). And apparently ALL of my sinus cavities are swollen shut. Not one. Not two. ALL. (apparently there are eight?!)

He then basically tells me I’m pregnant. For about ten minutes. He said I need surgery, but not now because I’m pregnant. And I need steroids, but not now because I’m pregnant. And I need a much stronger decongestant, but not now, because….

He tried to put the long black tube with the lighted camera on the end up my nose to look for more polyps. However, after it was about 2 inches in I began to cry like a small child because it hurt SO bad. So he said he didn’t want to torture me any further, and that was pretty much it.

Okay, so it lasted for a good solid 30-40 minutes and he was really nice, and really thorough, but ultimately he simply couldn’t help me. He said when someone has chronic sinusitis that gets so bad he would classify it as Sinus Disease, that honestly there is very little that can be done. He did say he is mildly optimistic that my symptoms happened to perfectly coincide with becoming pregnant, so there is some hope that once the baby arrives I may regain my sense of smell and taste. I’m supposed to follow-up next June and go from there to see if anything has returned, and if not, to discuss further treatment options post-pregnancy. There seems to be about a 50/50 shot of this being temporary/pregnancy related verses this being a permanent thing that happened now by coincidence.

*single tear*

I’m not going to go into a long, long, loooooooooooong rant about how depressed I feel right now. I don’t think that will make anything better. But I am. I am just flat-out sad, depressed, frustrated, and want to cry. But I also know I need to be strong and carry this little baby boy and give him a healthy, happy environment to grow in, so sitting around crying and giving up eating food all together isn’t going to help anyone. However, I also do feel that I am allowed to at least say it: I’m sad. I’m depressed. I’m living in a tasteless, smell-free void. You seriously, truly cannot possibly understand the mental toll this is taking on me. It has been almost 6 months now.  I can’t even breathe well for even two minutes out of the day, I can’t taste Thanksgiving dinner this week, I have to have my hubby smell foods to see if they've soured, to tell me if my clothes need washed yet, heck if the house was burning down and I was asleep I wouldn't smell the smoke. I can’t even smell my baby boy when he arrives, that fresh baby smell. Eating has lost all meaning, and I hate being around everyone talking about how amazing their meal is. My dog pooped in the house the other day, and I didn't even know it until my hubby got home and smelled it and found it. Total. Bubble.

This too shall pass…..I guess.

It's a BOY!

There are some moments in life that you can never quite prepare for, no matter how hard you try. You know what I mean? You can go over it in your head a thousand times, think you know exactly how you’ll act and feel, and run through every scenario. But you still are in NO way prepared for when it really happens. I felt this way when I got engaged. Again on the day of my wedding. Again on the day we found out we were expecting. And now, again, on the day we found out we are having a BOY! 

I have never, and will never be, one of those women that can wait for it to be a surprise. I don’t mean this only in regards to baby gender. I mean this in life. I am a bouncy five year old squealy girl when I think there is ANY chance something exciting is coming my way. I am ready to dive in head first and be ALL the things, feel ALL the feels! So make no mistake, I have been biting my nails on the edge of my seat wanting to know if I’m having a boy or a girl from the day I peed on a stick y’all. I applaud those women out there who have the strength and sense to let it be a true surprise. Good for y’all. Have a cookie. I ain’t got time.

We found out months ago that my anatomy ultrasound was scheduled for November 10, 2015. I get an unusual amount of ultrasounds due to my risks, but most of them are the more grainy types done on the portable machines. I’ve only had 3-4 regular ultrasounds on the fancy machines in the main office. So I haven’t even had a sneak peek, or a hint. I have had my dreams though, and anyone who knows me knows that I rely on dreams to tell me everything. I had numerous dreams it was a girl! But…I also had several dreams it was a boy. Fickle little pregnancy brain! Andrew kept having dreams that it was a baby, but there was no indication at all what the gender was. However, in all of his dreams, the little newborn could talk just like a grown adult and wouldn’t shut up. Naturally, he attributed this trait to me so he concluded it was a girl as well.

Also, anyone who is familiar with my family knows my parents have all daughters, four of us in total. And? They have SIX grandsons. All of their daughters had BOYS! The youngest of which is almost 13 years old, so it has been a looooong time. And surely the baby of the family was going to have a girl and break the streak.

And let’s talk names. I’ve been picking out baby names since I was 2 years old. Okay, 20. But still. I had a huge list of girl’s names, and I was fairly certain I was safe, so I didn’t focus much on the boy names, coming up with only a few, mostly to make my lists look a little closer to even.

And finally, the night before the big day, we decided to test out some old wive’s tales. We took my wedding ring and tied it to a string and held it over my belly. Three times, twice with him holding it and once with me holding it, it went in a huge circle, indicating a girl.

SO. Heading in to this ultra sound yesterday, both Andrew and I had no question at all in our minds that we were having a girl. We just knew that was the result, so we were totally ready.

I’m lying on the table, and the ultrasound tech is shoving the wand in my belly at full force (which can we all agree to stop saying ultrasounds are painless? I mean, I don’t want to DIE during one, but I certainly don’t LOVE having a stick shoved in my belly and up my bladder for 30 minutes straight, so let’s be real, yo, so future prego momma’s know what. Is. UP.)

So I’m lying on the table being prodded like an alien, and she is flying through all the steps. The baby was being quite cooperative and she was able to check on all four chambers of the heart (A+), all of its little limbs and bones (A+), its little spine (A+, side bar: definitely a small dinosaur in my belly, glad we got that ALL clear!), and the next thing we knew she was ready for gender. She asked our final guess, we both said “GIRL!”, and she moved the wand/beating stick and said, “NOW what do you think it is?”

We both looked blindly at the screen. Again, can we ALL agree that reading an ultrasound screen is the equivalent to attempting to read the periodic table of elements whilst at the bottom of the ocean? Wearing sunglasses. I mean, it’s all well and good that the nurses and doctors understand them, but unless I literally see hand waving at me, I have NO idea what I am looking at. Hell, ten minutes ago I thought I was having a dinosaur.  (Or as my sweet momma would later exclaim when we showed her the ultrasound photo: “Where is its little ding-a-ling?!?”)

So we both looked at her, and a little more weakly said, “Err…girl?? Baby…?” She laughed, and pointed to what she informed us was a leg. Then she pointed to what she informed us was a second leg. THEN she pointed to this little stick coming out between the two legs, and slowly on the screen she typed, “B….O….Y”.

In my pregnant haze, I didn’t even take it in. I just sat there trying to drum up another guess such as “Dog!” or “Tiny human!” or “It has legs for $300 Alex!”. Meanwhile, I look over, and I see Andrew, who two seconds before had matched my face of uselessness, and had been smiling dumbly trying not to look like we didn’t have the sense to understand the pictures. But now, I look at him and his entire face has crumbled into a tiny, smushy little ball. He is bawling, his eyes full of tears, but lit up in a way I have never seen. It was then that I got it.

I looked back at the tech and said, “It’s a BOY?! A BOY?! We’re having a BOY?!” and she laughed and confirmed. Andrew was holding my hand, and he was squeezing it with the strength of a thousand men. I then began to cry. A BOY!? Yes, momma. You’re having a baby boy.

SEVEN grandsons?!

Yep. A boy.

We both cried from that point until the end of the ultrasound, which wasn’t too far away. She then left us alone for a moment. She was missing a couple pictures of the brain because he kept covering his head with his hands, and she wanted to check with the doctor to make sure that what she was enough until my follow-up ultrasound in 4 weeks.

When we were finally alone, I truly looked at my husband. He was the proudest, tallest, strongest, happiest, everything-est I have EVER seen him be. He was bawling, crying so hard he couldn’t see, but smiling so big he would challenge even a chipmunk with those cheeks. He is having a son. I am having a son. I am….a BOY?!?!!? We kept repeating it over and over until it began to sink in.

We were in the doctor’s office for a couple more hours after that, so we had some time to let it sink in a little. Every few minutes one of us would say, “A BOY?!” and then we’d retreat back into awed silence.  

Every though on earth began to fly through my head.

We’re having a boy. Will it pee on me?! Ask daddy what that thing is baby boy. It’s going to think farts are funny. Don’t ride the dog!!! Oh lord, we’re never going to keep enough food in the house when he’s 15. He’s going to play with BUGS!!!

I’m giving him a son. I’m getting a son. He’s going to be so handsome. He’s going to look like his daddy. Oh my god I am SO in love with him already, completely head over heels, and he isn’t even here yet. He’ll play sports. Or play guitar. Or be in a band. Or THE band! Oh, he’ll be so smart. Momma loves her little boy. Dirty and stinky is funny sometimes. Oh the hugs…the hugs of a little boy wrapping his arms around his momma. He’ll look SO handsome in his tux for prom! He’s going to sit on the couch in his underwear with Daddy and consider Cheetos to be a “good dinner”.

But mostly, overwhelmingly more than ANYthing, I sat there and held Andrew’s hand and thought, “He’s a piece of us.” He’s his daddy, his mommy, and he is himself. I am so very in love, that I could never put into words how this has changed me forever.

I did have a moment where I “mourned” the loss of the “girl”. I gave up the frilly clothes and hair bows and Disney princesses and all the things I had thought I wanted. But it was only for a moment. Because I am already so in love and SO READY to meet my little guy that I can’t imagine loving anyone any more than this.

And who knows, if I manage to survive this pregnancy with flying colors (or at least one color, laying on the ground, and a few ounces of dignity…) then perhaps a little brother or sister will be in the cards in the next year or two. But if not, I’m okay with that, too. I’m just simply fine.

My little, perfect family makes me happier than anything I have ever felt in my entire life. Pee on me if you want little fella. Momma will get a wash cloth. I love you!