Journey to Omaha III: Answers

Now that Part II is up, I can finish Part III.  If you haven't read Part I or Part II, read them first.

It has taken me awhile to be ready to blog about the answers, the long-awaited answers we received in Omaha.  I wanted to wait until I could do right by that post.  Although I've given many a brief synopsis of what we found out, I have yet to really tell the whole. long. story.  Writing like that is daunting and requires time and inspiration for me to feel up to it.  Those of you with littles know that those two things rarely strike simultaneously.  Today though, Ira is on Spring Break and my wonderful in-laws invited both kiddos to spend the day and night at their house.  After some quiet time and prayer, I'm feeling moved to share.  I'll try to pick up where I left off in Journey to Omaha.

So when I last wrote, I was still up in Omaha waiting for that pesky follicle to rupture. When I went for my scan on Tuesday morning, the follicle was gone (which means it ruptured.)  The sono tech said that she believed Dr. Hilgers would classify the build-up and ovulation as normal.  Which was both a relief and a "huh what?" all at the same time.  Obviously it is good any time tests come back normal.  It is a sign of healthy function, which should be the goal of all medicine: to restore the body to proper and healthy function.  But when you've had five miscarriages with no explanation, tests coming back as normal don't really help identify the problem.  Normal results rule out problems, but they don't provide solutions.  With relief and more questions than answers, I headed home on February 19th, a week and a day before my scheduled surgery date.  Omaha was supposed to get hit with a blizzard on Thursday, so I was glad to get out ahead of the storm.  The drive back was sunny and windy (seems like it was always windy when I drove to and from Omaha...)  I picked up Ruby and made it back home just after Ira got out of school.

The weathermen were predicting heavy snow for our area that Wednesday (the 20th), but when we woke up, it wasn't snowing.  Ruby and I went to morning Mass and as we left Mass, it was snowing pretty big flakes.  I was supposed to go to my parents' house because my uncle was in town, but my tooth et al was really, really bothering me (the side of my face with the crown, my face, ear, head, and neck were so sore that Tylenol four times a day was not even making a difference.)  I wasn't sure if it was all tooth-related or two separate issues (like maybe an ear infection?) so I thought I'd go to my regular doctor to see if he could make heads or tails of the problem.  I was going to leave Ruby with my parents, but as we got closer to town, the snow got heavier and heavier.  When we got to my parents' house, the radar looked ominous, so I just took Ruby with me, in case we needed to head home to avoid getting stranded.  On the way to the appointment, I called home to check our messages to make sure that Ira's school hadn't called to cancel. They had.  Ira would be getting out of school at the same time as my scheduled appointment, 11:00.  Thankfully, I was able to get a hold of one of Andy's aunts who was able to pick Ira up from school and watch him so that I could go to my appointment.  The roads were treacherous across town, but we made it to the appointment on time.

My beloved doctor, the doctor who helped us after our first three miscarriages and who helped us have our sweet Ruby (& who has studied under Dr. Hilgers) was excited to hear how things in Omaha were going and what we were finding out.  He examined my face, head, neck, throat, ears, and said he really thought that the tooth was causing all of the other problems.  He wanted to prescribe an antibiotic (because he really thought the tooth was infected) but when I asked him if that would mess with the uterine cultures that Dr. Hilgers wanted to do during surgery the next week, he said it very well could.  He advised me to call my dentist and said if I still needed antibiotics when I got back to call him.  He prescribed some pain medicine as well, so Ruby and I stopped on the way home to pick that up.  I also called the dentist.  He said it definitely sounded like I needed a root canal.  His office was able to schedule one with an endodontist (is that right?) for Monday the 25th (the day before we'd leave for Omaha again.)  The snow was tapering off and it wasn't very cold out, so after I picked Ira up, the kids went out and played in the snow.  That ended pretty abruptly when Ira whacked Ruby right under the eye with a metal shovel (it was a sincere accident.)  Neither was really in the mood to play in the snow after that, though.  Ruby had a nice shiner for weeks.  Andy made it home from work without any trouble later in the afternoon.  Ira's school called that evening to cancel for the next day (as more snow was predicted.) Hooray for a snow day!

The next morning (Thursday the 21st) we awoke to tons of snow and it was still snowing.  Andy said he would try to get to the highway to see if he could make it to work.  He came back inside after 5 minutes because he couldn't even get his truck out of the driveway!  We had a fun day at home as a family.  Andy and Ira spent the afternoon digging out our driveway and a path to the road.  Ira's school called again that evening to cancel for Friday.

Friday morning, Andy was able to make it to work (the 50 minute drive took him 2+ hours.)  Crews spent the day clearing the roads, and by the time Andy headed home, the roads weren't too bad at all (except for the big highway from town, someone dropped the ball on that one completely!)  As soon as Andy got home, we turned around to take my rental car back.  We made it just minutes before the rental company closed, thank goodness!  Andy's parent's called to see if we wanted to go to our Parish's Fish Fry for dinner, so we headed home to meet them there.  Apparently everyone else was as tired of being cooped up as we were, because the Fish Fry was packed.  It was good to catch up with people from our parish and fill them in on what we had found out so far.  When we were watching the news that night, the weathermen were predicting another big snowstorm to hit Monday (we were supposed to leave early early Tuesday morning to go back to Omaha.)  We talked about maybe leaving early to get out ahead of the storm, but decided the root canal was pretty important, so if things were looking bad, we would leave immediately after the root canal and drive all night if need be.

Saturday we took the kids sledding at the spot to sled in town.  Andy & I had never sledded there either.  There was a bit of a miscommunication about who was grabbing my coveralls, and we ended up in town without them.  I had a major meltdown/fit.  Not one of my finer moments at all. (Sorry, honey.)  It took Andy threatening to pack us all up and go back home for me to shut up and calm down. (I really wanted the kids to get to go sledding.)  We ended up having a great time and the missing coveralls were scarcely missed.  We sledded until Ruby and I were fuh-reezing, then ran a few errands, went to dinner, and got home in time to put the kids to bed.  While Andy was putting the kids to bed, I got online to check what the forecasters were saying about Monday's storm.  It hit me like a ton of bricks that they could close the highways and we would not physically be able to get to Omaha on Monday or Tuesday.  When Andy came out from putting the kids to bed, we decided that it would probably be smartest to leave on Sunday after Mass to get out ahead of the storm.  We had not come this far to miss our appointments and surgery because of a stupid snowstorm.  Initially, we planned to have Ira go to Andy's parents and Ruby go to my parents on Sunday, that way Andy's parents could take Ira to school (if they had it) on Monday.  I was pretty unsettled about that because Ruby did alright, but not great with me being gone the last time.  I was very nervous how she would handle both Andy & I being gone and being separated from Ira, so we made the decision that both of the kids would go to my parents' house, and we would hope for the best as far as getting Ira to school.  I would have to miss my root canal, but again, the appointments and surgery were far more important to us.

It was a hassle picking up the rental car on Sunday (most of the locations were closed) and we had to drive way out east to get it, but we finally got everything transferred over and the kids settled in at my parents' before getting on the road around 3:30.  The drive there was uneventful, although we could see clouds to the west.  Ira's school called in the evening to cancel for Monday in anticipation of the blizzard.  We ate dinner at the I-80 junction, and when we came out from dinner it was snowing.  Luckily the storm was moving slow enough that after 30 minutes of driving we were out of it and made it to Omaha with nary a problem.

With no appointments on Monday, we went to Mass at the Cathedral, ate a great lunch at Petrow's, and went shopping for Ruby's birthday present.  It was a really nice day together.  We kept in touch with my parents who said the blizzard was slow in arriving (didn't really start in earnest until Monday afternoon/evening.)  Ira's school called again in the evening to cancel school for Tuesday.

Tuesday morning we got up and around and went to lunch at The Old Mattress Factory in downtown Omaha (again, great food!)  I had pre-op blood work and a meeting with the anesthesiologist (wow I'm totally geeking out because I spelled that right without spell-check) at Creighton University Medical Center where my surgery would be the next day.  The whole surgery thing became very real when we walked into the hospital.  A laparoscopy is a pretty common procedure, but it is surgery, nonetheless.  We had just enough time after our appointment to go back to the hotel and pray a rosary before heading to my pre-op consult with Dr. Hilgers.

When we got to the Institute, I think Andy had that same moment of "wow, this is really the place" as I did upon first seeing it.  I had to slow my pace to walk with him so that we could bask in the moment together.  The receptionist let us know that Dr. Hilgers was still at CUMC finishing up surgeries, so he would be a little late for our appointment.  We spent time in the waiting room looking through the "miracle albums" - photos of all the babies Dr. Hilgers has helped into this world over the last 25+ years.  Before long, the nurse called us back.  Dr. Parker, a doctor doing a fellowship under Dr. Hilgers, did a complete head-to-toe physical examination and asked about three bazillion questions to get a thorough and accurate picture of my health and background.  He left the room and I redressed and went to the bathroom (a door right off the exam room.)  When I was in the bathroom, I thought I heard someone come in, and sure enough, when I opened the door, there was Dr. Hilgers, smiling and approachable, sitting at the consult table chatting with Andy.

He warmly shook my hand as I sat down, and proceeded to go through all the tests that we had done up to that point.  He admitted that my NFP charts looked crazy, exhibiting a myriad of problems: long cycles, tail end brown bleeding, continuous mucus, and mid and end of cycle spotting, but he also concurred with the sono techs about the normal ovulation.  He acknowledged that the sono techs had identified potentially Poly Cystic Ovaries.  He went through the hormone panel that I had completed in December, saying estrogen and progesterone levels were pretty much right where they needed to be.  He speculated about endometriosis, as their research has revealed that 85% (!!) of women with recurrent miscarriages have endometriosis.  And he closed by saying that he was pretty sure that the surgery the next day would tell us a lot.

Now, I wish I could tell you that I left the appointment positive, reassured, and confident that this whole crazy journey had been worth it.  In reality, I was defeated, depressed, and doubtful (this was before I was seeing improvements with the TSD, btw.)  What I got out of the appointment was this: "We still have no answers for you, everything looks pretty much as it should except for your whacked out NFP charts." Seriously?!  But Andy, my eternally, incredibly, always-seeing-the-best-in-every-situation, husband got something entirely different out of the appointment: we will know a lot more tomorrow.  I called my best friend who said, "even if you don't get the answers you were seeking, you will have peace of mind that you've done everything you could."  So true, but a tough pill to swallow nonetheless.  I painted my toenails and completed all my surgery prep (enema, shower, anti-bac scrub down that left me terribly itchy) and tried to go to sleep.

We got to the hospital shortly before 8:30 for surgery scheduled at 10:30.  I got into the hospital gown, put ted hose on (anti-embolism precaution), took my contacts out,  and tried not to worry (and luckily I guess?, because of my itchy reaction, did not have to go through the anti-bac scrub down again.)  The nurse started an IV.  Andy was allowed to come back when I was finally settled (around 9:30 am)  While we waited for surgery about three bazillion people came into my pre-op room to check on me: my nurse, an anesthesia resident, the anesthesiologist (who had a French accent and was so difficult to understand... as he was leaving he asked what my "het" and "wet" were... it took me forever to realize he was saying "height" and "weight"), Dr. Hilgers, followed by Dr. Parker (it was funny when he walked in because I recognized him but couldn't place him at all until I saw his badge) and the nurse a couple more times.  The time passed rather quickly and it wasn't long before the French anesthesiologist was in giving me some stuff prior to the nurse wheeling me to the OR.  The last thing I remember was the nurse saying, "The anesthesiologist gave you quite the cocktail".....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

And then I woke up in the recovery room.  Sick.  Feeling so nauseous.  There was a nurse there when I woke up and she asked how I felt.  I said "nauseous" and she said they'd already given me 2 (or 3?) medications (apparently I had been "awake" (and able to convey how I felt) prior to that, but I have no recollection of that (which is so weird to me, but whatever) but that she would page the doctor.  I fell back asleep and woke up again when she came in again saying she was going to give me some Phenergan.  I gagged and threw up.  She was standing on my right side waiting for me to roll over and  I guess I thought the Phenergan would go in my IV or something  (she probably told me exactly what she was going to do, and what I needed to do but again, I was pretty groggy...)  (Again, I'm guessing) she asked me to roll over on my left side.  When I realized (as the needle went in) that she was giving me a shot in the butt, I tried to relax as I had with the progesterone shots.  (Apparently I didn't do too good of a job as I can still feel where she gave me the shot.)  She asked me if I thought I'd be able to go home (well the hotel, whatever) that day or if I needed to stay at the hospital.  I said, "I'd sure like to."  I fell back asleep and when I woke up, I felt a lot better.  As I waited for them to transfer me to the post-op room (where I could finally see Andy) I remember wanting to know what (if anything) they had found.

I waited (sleeping on and off) for what seemed like forever for Andy to get to the post-op room.  When he got there I immediately asked if they'd found anything.  Sure enough, Dr. Hilgers had found endometriosis and uterine polyps.  I cried.  Out of relief.  Out of joy.  Over answers.  We finally had something that wasn't right.  One of the times I woke up, I realized I had a wooden rosary taped to my right hand (carefully with the crucifix in the palm.)  The nurse had asked prior to surgery if I was Catholic and if I wanted a rosary from Dr. Hilgers.  She said that he takes the rosaries to the Vatican when he goes and has them blessed by the pope.  I had no idea it would go with me to recovery.  How beautiful.

Now, to be frank, to be dismissed from the hospital, they needed me to pee, so they really pushed the IV fluids.  I slept a lot.  They had an ice pack on my stomach.  I finally woke up around 3:30 and needed to pee.  The nurse walked me to the bathroom (yeah, up and walking 4 hours post surgery.)  I still felt pretty groggy, but I knew I'd be more comfortable back at the hotel, so they proceeded with dismissal instructions and I got back into my own clothes and we left (the hospital has free valet parking, how cool is that?!  Andy went down ahead of me to request the car and when I got down there, the car was already waiting.)

That afternoon and evening (and night) was hard.  When they do the laparoscopy, they pump your abdomen full of carbon dioxide gas so that they can work around the organs.  Despite removing what they can, some gas remains behind, and can cause pain (shoulder pain in particular), which I was aware of.  I was not aware of how bad it would hurt.  It was the weirdest pain and difficult to describe, but I'll do my best.  First off, I was so bloated.  My stomach was huge and I couldn't "suck it in" for the life of me (not that I really tried, but it was awkwardly distended.)  Secondly, whenever I moved, the air in my stomach did what air does - it follows the laws of gravity.  So it would rush (with callous disregard for my organs) to the highest point.  That meant if I laid on my left side, the air rose to the right side.  If I sat up, or stood up and walked around (which I tried to do when I could, as it's supposed to help) the air rose to the top of my abdomen, causing pain in my right shoulder, and pushing on my lungs, making it excruciating to take even a shallow breath.  Using my vast experience with the laws of gravity, I devised that if I laid on the bed with my head on the pillow and my butt up in the air, the gas would "rise" to my butt and take the pressure off of my lungs.  Pretty, huh?  It worked.  The gas wasn't comfortable down (up?) there either, but it was better than when I could hardly breathe.  So I would cycle through all these positions: butt up in the air, slowly trying to lay down (to avoid the rush of air bubbles with callous disregard for my poor innards), laying on one side, the other, sitting up, getting up and walking around.  The pain was sharp and seriously took my breath away when I would change positions (there is seriously nothing like the feeling of having your tender guts pushed all over the place.)  I would rather go through childbirth.  Contractions were nothing compared to that.

Hours went by like that and finally sometime after 2:30 am, I fell asleep.  I don't even know what time we woke up that next morning.  We had a post-op consultation with Dr. Hilgers at 11:00, so we were up and out of the hotel sometime prior to that.

The pain that morning was a little more manageable, or maybe it was just the fact that I was excited to meet with Dr. Hilgers again.

He came in the room and said, "Well, we got answers!"  He showed/talked through the video of my hysteroscopy and laparoscopy.  He pointed out the polyps (which he also removed) and showed us how the lining of my uterus was very inflamed.  He called it "chronic endometritis" and said it was an indicator of infection and made the uterus a very hostile environment for a pregnancy.  He had taken uterine cultures, and told us that the cultures only turn up positive for known infections 20% of the time, but he also told us that antibiotics take care of the infection (of known or unknown origin) 70% of the time.  He voiced his frustration with the IVF-oriented culture of obstetrics, saying that they (the obstetrics field, NOT PPVI Institute) have been researching IVF improvements since the 60s (i think?) and have scarcely improved their success rates.  I said, "we're grateful that you're researching things," to which he responded, "Thank you, but I just wish that someone else would help me out.  Even just one other person."  He continued on with the video, revealing very enlarged ovaries (consistent with Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome - PCOS) and a handful of spots of endometriosis.  As the video finished up, he said "now let's devise a plan."

The polyps were what were causing the mid/end-of-cycle spotting.  The chronic endometritis for me, causes the tail end brown bleeding (whose presence or absence will let us know if the infection is under control.)  It can be treated with antibiotics.  He gave Andy & I both a prescription for Biaxin, (reminiscent of the prescription for Doxycycline Dr. Ferris gave Andy & I both, speculating about infection, before our successful pregnancy with Ruby.  Interesting.) and said that he wanted me to look into eating an anti-inflammatory diet.  He said I had cervical eversion, which was probably causing the continuous mucus, which he treated with cervical ablation (cauterization) at the time of the hysteroscopy.  He went through my bloodwork results again, noting that the FSH and LH levels were reversed and my androgen and testosterone levels were off (which were highlighted in the results they sent me in January, but which he didn't really talk about much during our pre-op appointment, sly dog did I really just refer to Dr. Hilgers as a sly dog?) which is indicative of PCOS (as are the enlarged ovaries and the long cycles) and said the treatment for that is an ovarian wedge resection.  An ovarian wedge resection is a surgical procedure in which they cut a wedge (a "v" shape) out of the middle of the oval-shaped ovaries, then close the "v" up to make a more circular, normal ovary.  He said the procedure should correct the hormone levels.  During that procedure (robotic assisted surgery) they would also remove the endometriosis.  He summed his findings up by saying that I had three known causes of miscarriage: endometritis, endometriosis, and PCOS, and said that following treatment he would give us an 80% chance of successful pregnancy. EIGHTY PERCENT!!!!!!

Holy answers, batman!

Now he did say that sometimes (for whatever reason, again they're continually researching), the first pregnancy following intervention ends in miscarriage.  And he acknowledged that that is a lot to go through after all that we've been through already.  But he assured us that many of his patients (even that miscarry after intervention) go on to have successful successive pregnancies.

After asking if we had any questions (we had just a few) he shook our hands and took us to the woman that does his surgery scheduling, Cheryl, saying that it might be 2-3 months before I could get in for surgery.  When we sat down however, Cheryl excitedly told us that there was a date at the end of March that they had had trouble filling (probably partly due to the fact that it's during Holy Week) that was available for my surgery if we wanted it.  She tentatively penciled us in (until we could check with Andy's work and my mom) for March 26th.  She also told us to ease into the anti-inflammatory diet as it is very overwhelming all at once (essentially, no processed grains, lots of fruits and vegetables, lean meats, little dairy.)

When we called my mom after the appointment she immediately said to take the date.  Andy's employer didn't have a problem with it either, so we made the appointment for robotic assisted surgery on March 26th with hopes that we will be able to travel home on Good Friday (Cheryl assured me that it would definitely be a "Good Friday" as I would have plenty of suffering to unite with Christ's.)

We were able to travel home from Omaha on Friday, March 1st.  The gas pain persisted until Saturday afternoon, when I finally turned the corner and it became less painful.  That night, while at my sister's house, I entertained she and Damien (and Andy) with rolling from side to side on the floor so that they could hear the gas bubbling from side to side (again, going to the highest point.)  I had no idea I'd be in maternity pants so soon after going to Omaha.  lol.  I had to wear them (because I was tired of living in yoga pants) until the following Friday because my stomach was still so bloated that I couldn't even zip my regular pants.  The two incisions are healing beautifully (not that that really matters much, but they are.)  The one at my belly button (the bigger one) looks like just another wrinkle in my belly button and the lower, smaller one looks like an ingrown hair at best.  I guess I tell you that just because I am amazed at the finesse of such a skilled surgeon.

Wow.  Just wow.  Even a month later, I am still coming to terms with this new reality. This reality filled with hope.  It's strange after so long of being completely in the dark (as to the cause of our miscarriages) what it feels like to bask in the light of answers.  I can hardly describe the love that I feel for Dr. Hilgers.  That there is a doctor out there, going so against the grain of the world, to bring healing and hope to women.  Not just artificially propping up their bodies to support a pregnancy, but actually getting to the root of the problem and healing them.  That can only come from working in harmony with The Creator.  Praise God for this man!  I am also overcome with gratitude to God for the beauty that has come from such pain.  The story God is writing through me never ceases to amaze and surprise me.   Now that we have answers, God working through the fallenness of this world to bring about good is so obvious to me.  I only wish I could say that my faith in His hand working for good through it all never faltered.  Sometimes (on the good days) I could cling to the hope that God was working through it all.  But on those dark days, I could only (and barely) cling to Andy who was clinging to God through it all.  Praise God for my faithful, holy husband.

So there you have it.  Far from the final chapter of our story, but definitely a big moment in it.  We are faithfully taking our antibiotics twice a day.  (I have nine alarms set on my phone right now: 2 per day for antibiotics, 2 per day for the T3 (has to be taken twelve hours-to the minute- apart, can't eat 2 hours before or one hour after taking, 4 per day for taking my temps and pulses to track for the TSD, and 1 to wake up each morning. )  We are slowly adjusting our diets to align them more with an anti-inflammatory way of eating (pounds and pounds of fruits and vegetables are getting eaten in this house each week.)  And we are scheduled to go back to Omaha next week for surgery.

If you would, please keep us in your prayers this coming Holiest of Weeks.  Pray for safe travels.  Pray for a successful surgery with no complications.  Pray for a speedy recovery.  Pray that we can make it home for Easter with our children.  Even more so, pray for Dr. Hilgers.  Pray for God to give strength and encouragement and help to this holy servant.  Pray for NaPro Technology to be more widely recognized, studied, and accessible.  Pray for the field of obstetrics.  Pray for the millions of other couples struggling to live their lives through the pain of infertility and/or miscarriage.

I'll leave you with the lyrics to one of my favorite hymns.  Seriously, I get teary singing it every. time.

"Oh God beyond all praising, we worship you today and sing the love amazing that songs cannot repay; for we can only wonder at every gift you send, at blessings without number and mercies without end: we lift our hearts before you and wait upon your word, we honor and adore you, our great and mighty Lord.

Then hear, O gracious Savior, accept the love we bring, that we who know your favor may serve you as our king; (this is the point I always choke up) and whether our tomorrows be filled with good or ill, we'll triumph through our sorrows and rise to bless you still: to marvel at your beauty and glory in your ways, and make a joyful duty our sacrifice of praise."

God bless.

If these topics interest you, you might find the following links helpful:

http://www.popepaulvi.com/

http://www.drhilgers.com/

And and in depth look at the role of infections in infertility/miscarriage by Dr. Attila Toth:
http://www.fertilitysolution.com/Fertile-vs-Infertile-Book.pdf?page_mode=OPEN

Journey to Omaha II

Before I post my monster update (seriously, I'm typing it now), I realized that I inadvertently (or maybe subconsciously) left out a diagnosis I received  in February that I want to fill you in on.  Prior to going to Omaha the first time, I'd been sent a packet of information (by PPVI Institute) to evaluate me for Thyroid System Dysfunction.  Now, I was already on Thyroid medication for hypothyroidism, but this dysfunction is kind of tricky.  I would like to educate you a little bit about it (because I think it is important and fascinating all at the same time) as explained in the information packet sent to me. If you're not interested in the medicine behind the reality, skip the quote and pick up after it.  But I'm telling you, it's fascinating (and you can understand it - I'm absolutely not medically inclined and I understand it.)

"Thyroid System Dysfunction (TSD) is a controversial condition in which the patient may have a large number of symptoms that are ultimately associated with abnormal function of the thyroid gland.  However, in this condition the normal thyroid function studies that the doctor runs on blood tests are usually within the normal range.  The ability to diagnose this condition is said to rest on the ability to take a series of body temperatures because the diagnosis - at the present time - is made in part upon the identification of the average body temperature being below 98.2 degrees Fahrenheit.

 ...It is controversial because the American Thyroid Association has taken a specific position on this condition indicating that they believe it is nonexistent...

 Theoretically, this condition is caused as the result of chronic stress.  Under the conditions of chronic stress, the adrenal glands respond by manufacturing a large amount of Cortisol.  Apparently Cortisol inhibits the conversion of Thyroxine (Thyroid hormone - T4) to Triiodothyronine (the active thyroid hormone - T3).  Cortisol favors the conversion of T4 to Reverse T3 (RT3).  Reverse T3 is similar chemically to the T3 hormone but it is inactive.  That is to say, it has no physiological activity.  If the stress is prolonged, a condition referred to as "Reverse T3 Dominance" occurs and persists even after the stress passes and Cortisol levels fall.  Apparently RT3 can act somewhat like Cortisol and block the conversion of T4 to T3.

The conversion of T4 to T3 is very important.  It occurs both in the liver and in the individual cells throughout the body.  While T4 is produced by the thyroid gland in response to Thyroid Releasing Hormone (TRH) - a hormone produced in the hypothalamus - and Thyroid Stimulating Hormone (TSH) - a hormone produced in the pituitary gland, the thyroid hormone itself (T4) is not a very active hormone.  The conversion of the T4 to T3 is important to obtain the effect of the thyroid hormone.  When this relationship changes with a production of a predominance of Revers T3 (RT3), there is the development of multiple symptoms related to thyroid dysfunction.

This Reverse T3 Dominance is the cause of the hypometabolism which is associated with decreased body temperature.  In the case of any hormone activity, there need to be chemical receptors within the cells to bind with the hormone in order for the hormone to be effective.  The RT3 and T3 both bind to the same receptors.  However, when there is an increased amount of RT3 relative to the amount of T3 (once again the active thyroid hormone), then the receptor sites become blocked by the RT3 and the various chemical reactions associated with the body slow down.  When these reactions slow down, the temperature drops because these reactions normally will give off a certain amount of heat and they are the source of heat within the body.  As these reactions slow down, less heat is produced and the body temperature decreases.  This drop in temperature slows down enzymes in every cell of the body... Ultimately, this is the bio-chemical reason for the thyroid system dysfunction."

I haven't talked about this much with anyone, because it is kind of heavy, but my mom and my sisters knew a little bit and Andy, well he knew just exactly how much I was struggling.  I want to talk to you about this now because it is important to me that this information is out there for others who may be struggling similarly.  Get ready to get to know the real me:

I was exhausted every morning, even after a full night's sleep.  I would fall asleep while reading to Ruby.  I took naps while she napped pretty much every day.  I chalked it up to "being a parent of young kids"  and "getting older." I was grumpy, snappy,  irritable, and unreasonable many days throughout each month (not PMS, but 10-15 days throughout the month.)  I was depressed, unmotivated, overwhelmed, and so many, many times I felt like I had completely lost the ability to control my emotions.  The devil enjoyed playing with my doubts, making me feel like a terrible person who, if I just practiced more self-control, could "get over" this.  Those 10-15 days each month were so dark and difficult.

I know what some of you are thinking, you "know" me, and you just don't see those things.  You see my Facebook posts, my blog, and you think that I couldn't possibly be describing myself.  But I can assure you that you didn't know the whole story.  There were good days and bad.  You knew the "good day me."  On those good days, I could be productive and loving and patient and I could blog and post on Facebook.  That's the me I let people know.  On the good days, I could make light of the bad.  But on the bad days, I couldn't see the forest for the trees.  Those days I would get absolutely nothing done above keeping everyone alive and fed and clothed.  It was all I could do to make it through the day without curling up in a fetal position on the bed and sleeping.  I felt like I was crazy with all the ups and downs.  I had no idea how I would feel or react to things.  On the good days I could be so patient but on the bad days, the littlest, stupidest things set me off into that dark place, unable to control my emotions no matter how hard I tried (and seriously, I.tried.hard.)  I never knew which kind of day I was going to have.  On the good days, I couldn't understand why I felt so horrible on the bad days.  I hated how I felt.  I hated how I treated Andy and the kids (but mostly Andy.)  I couldn't stand the person I'd become, yet I couldn't figure out how to not be that person.  The thought that my life would always be like that scared and depressed me even further.  I can't imagine how hard I was to be married to.  And yet, despite the me I was so much of the time, the bitchy, grumpy me, Andy loved me.  Loved me even when I didn't love me.  I could not possibly be married to a better man for me.

Now, because of our background in the Couple-to-Couple League method of NFP, I had maintained daily basal temperature readings (with breaks during pregnancy/nursing) since shortly before we got married, and I knew my temps bad always been low (most recently, in the mid to lower 96s pre-ovulatory, barely getting to the mid 97s post-ovulatory - when temperatures rise in reaction to progesterone)  And the temps had always puzzled me (because they can indicate thyroid problems) but my blood tests had always come back pretty much normal.  And here I was reading this informational packet on TSD and going "That is ME!"  This disorder that the American Thyroid Association believes is nonexistent - perfectly describes me.  The temps coupled with the fact that I checked off two dozen of the  symptoms associated with Thyroid Dysfunction (everything from moodiness, low libido, irritability, depression and fatigue, to low-self esteem, miscarriage, and cold intolerance) made me think that perhaps Dr. Hilgers had stumbled onto something that would change my life.

I had a moment of clarity reflecting on my symptoms  in a worksheet from Dr. Hilgers sent with the TSD informational packet (some of the questions: "Compared to a normal person, what percentage of a normal person do you feel?" and "Compared to the way you felt before developing all of these symptoms, all things taken together, would you say you feel (10-90%) of what you felt then?") You mean all these things that I've been feeling.  This person that I've become could all be related to my thyroid?!  In trying to remember when it was that I last felt "normal," I realized that I hadn't felt like "myself" since we miscarried the very first time way back in 2008.  It seemed to worsen after each miscarriage, and had reached a fever pitch after we miscarried in August 2012 and I stopped post-peak progesterone intervention so that Dr. Hilgers could get an accurate hormone profile through a month-long blood panel. I'd long thought it was hormonal, but had no idea it could be related to my thyroid.

I filled the packet out and actually hand delivered it the first day I was in Omaha.  On Monday, February 11th the nurse called to let me know that I qualified for the treatment for Thyroid System Dysfunction.  I picked my prescription up at Kubat's Pharmacy (the only pharmacy in the nation who compounds the active T3 hormone under Dr. Hilgers' protocol) when I was in Omaha again on Valentine's Day.

We are still in the process of getting my dosage correct, but I cannot believe how much better I feel.  My temps are still working their way to a more normal range, but I've had temperatures in the 98s sporadically!  I don't even know when my temperature has ever been in the 98s (except for when I have a fever...)  And on the days that my temperature is up, I can seriously feel it.  I feel like the me I knew I was deep down but couldn't be.  I have a normal amount of energy.  I feel rested.  I can handle life.  Things still upset me, but I can deal with them and move on.  I feel "normal" and normal feels wonderful! It is my hope that as we approach the right dosage, I will have more and more of those "normal feeling" days.

I am very hopeful that we will someday be able to successfully carry pregnancies again (and you'll learn more about our answers in the next post) but if nothing else comes from this, I feel like I am getting my life back.  I don't dread the rest of my life now.  I hope that I can one day be the wife that Andy deserves and the mother that Ira and Ruby deserve.  Because they deserve the very best.

Lastly, I am so, so grateful for a doctor who is willing to research problems that certain associations call non-existent.  Because for me, that non-existent condition was a reality that was wreaking havoc on my life.

Vocation

I was reading something recently, and a quote really struck me.  I want to record it for my kids' sake, so that as we continue to talk about vocations, I will remember these words:

"Our deepest desires move us to action, to make choices.  In a sense, that is what vocation is really about, following that God-given pull or learning that which seems to come from deep within.  It isn't always clear what might be asked of you, but if you keep listening, seeking, trusting that God is at work in it all, the direction will become clearer.

God doesn't play games with us.  Even though a few lightning strikes might get your attention, the fact of the matter is that God seems to work most often through the ordinary.  I encourage you to trust that God's desire for you is being revealed in the people and events of your life.  Don't miss the simple ways God works because you expect something more profound."

-Catherine Bertrand, S.S.N.D

As a teenager, I remember struggling with "hearing the call" to my vocation, and I think part of it was precisely because I was waiting for the call.  I wasn't trusting the "longings of my heart" to be what God was calling me to.  I wasn't cognizant of the fact that it was precisely God who placed those longings deep within my very being.

I want to be able to help my children discern their vocations as best I can, & I hope someday these words will help them discern their path to happiness, holiness, and ultimately heaven.

Keepin' it Real

No folks, you're not looking at the latest "My home is better than yours" Home from Better Homes and Gardens.  This is what my house looks like today.  Ruby is puking from the overabundance of mucus that has accompanied her bout with "Flu B."  So I'm letting go of the house to take care of what matters most: the people in my life.

Thankfully, Ruby is napping peacefully right now, and in the time it's taken me to upload the pictures, I've gotten the kitchen cleaned up and a load of laundry started.  Nonetheless, I wanted to share a glimpse of raw, unedited "life"  Real life.

The extra snuggling time I've had today has given me time to think about just how grateful I am for my life today:  That I am married to a man who is my world, my love, my best friend, my better half.  That he works hard so that I can live my dream of staying home with our kids.  That I have been blessed twice with new souls to love and nurture here on earth.  That I have a warm home with beautiful Christmas decorations that make my heart glad.  That my family has enough clothes to make that mountain of laundry above.  That we have dishes and food and helping hands to create a dirty kitchen with.  That even on the messiest, most unproductive days I am SO ABUNDANTLY BLESSED.

Sometimes life is so messy and so beautiful all at the same time.

Journal: November 25

Outside my window: Hmm... this isn't very exciting when one blogs from the basement with no windows at night.  The weather was nice today though, sunny and upper 40s to mid 50s I'd guess.

Clothing myself in: Black yoga pants, red long-sleeved running shirt, black NYC hoodie.

Around the house: Not much exciting, Ira was home on Thanksgiving Break all last week, so mainly I just tried to keep everyone alive and make sure that the kiddos picked up their toys each night.  I did rake the mountain of leaves off of the patio (the wind likes to leave them there for me) and put away some hoses outside.  That's something, right?

Ruby: Keeps talking about giving her binkies to the binky fairy.  It's not really a big deal either way to me when she gets rid of them, but it would be nice to not have to worry about always having one.  I told her maybe we'd try to leave them for the fairy tomorrow night.  I'll let you know how that goes...  She is doing really well with the whole "Quiet Time" thing in the afternoon.  More days than not she ends up asleep.  How long I let her stay asleep depends on how "well rested" she is.  She has also been asking to wear underwear to QT and to bed at night.  So far, we've just let her wear underwear at QT (her night-time diapers are still very wet most mornings) and she's done really well keeping them dry even while asleep.  Sigh.  My baby is growing up.  Cute Rubyism: We pray for a baby pretty much every night.  Well tonight when we were praying, Ruby told me that I could have one of her babies (dolls).  She can be such a sweetie!

Ira: Finally lost his top right tooth.  It had gotten to the point where he wouldn't even wiggle it because he was afraid it would just fall out.  On Thanksgiving day, he was chewing on a piece of candy corn when lo and behold he says, "my tooth is out!"  Pretty sweet way to loose a tooth!  He got to shoot a gun for the first time this weekend (under very close supervision, of course.)  I think he thought that was pretty cool.  He's progressing well in piano lessons (although we haven't been very diligent about doing a lesson every week.)  He's really motivated now though, because his Christmas Book is on the staff, and he has a few pages to go before he'll be playing comfortably across the staff.

In the kitchen: I'm really excited about the meals that I have planned for this week.  Tomorrow is Andy's birthday so we're making some special food to celebrate.  Gyros with Tzatziki and Greek salads; Monica's Mexican Chili; Chicken Palava with Rice; Pico de Tuna with some modifications (shredded carrots, rice, black beans, lime juice).  Mostly new recipes, which is always exciting!

Hobbies: Took some family pictures for my siblings and took our traditional big family picture on Thanksgiving.  I'm thrilled with how they turned out.  Made (with the kids) a present for my niece who turns 3 this week.

Bringing me joy: You know, sometimes in the midst of all this fertility/miscarriage/hormone-wackiness, it is very difficult for me to find joy.  The last couple of weeks whenever I get to this part of my journal, I've had to seriously grab for straws.  Some days, I just don't see much joy in my life at all.  And I know that sounds like a pessimistic and unappreciative attitude, but I am telling you, when I'm in that mental place, it just seems like everything goes wrong.  I am finding that exercising helps considerably, and I've also found that compartmentalizing the "going to PPVI Institute" hopes into a space where I don't let my mind wander often has helped as well.

That being said, this week was actually pretty good.  Things that brought me joy:  2 mile runs several times this week; Ruby wearing her big purple coat; playing Monopoly with Ira; praying with my nephew and niece, my kids sitting at "the big kid" table for Thanksgiving dinner, talking with my siblings and parents over a wonderful meal, a raise, going on a family date, talking politics with my hubby's family, playing peek-a-boo with an adorable 10 month old.

Thinking about: Celebrating my hubby's birthday tomorrow - he'll be 30!  Eeek!  That sounds so OLD when I type it!  Being kind even when I know my hormones want me to be grouchy and mean.

Pictures to share:

Look at that gap-toothed smile!  He's getting so big!

Ruby (in the YMCA jersey I mentioned last week) driving her baby around the house.

Sure do love these people!

Just what the doctor ordered...

Yesterday was just one of those days.  After blogging about it, things didn't improve much, but we all made it through the day alive(ish).

Today, I got just what the doctor ordered.  More specifically, I got my lab orders from Dr. Hilgers at Pope Paul VI Institute!  Each little step on this journey is so encouraging.  So what my sad heart needs right now.  I think I may try to blog about our journey - the process, my feelings/emotions/reflections.

I am thoroughly impressed already with the compassion and care I have received from PPVI - and I haven't even been there yet!  Each contact, be it by phone, e-mail, or letter has been so highly respectful, encouraging, and compassionate about our situation.  In the mail today with my lab orders was a letter that I'd like to excerpt from here, just so you can see what I'm talking about.

"Due to an ever-increasing request for services, we regret that we cannot call you as quickly as we would like to; nor can we schedule your surgery as quickly as we would like to...  Know that we are doing everything we can to expedite your visit."

Knowing that this waiting period is difficult, we are enclosing a complimentary copy of Women Healed, a compilation of stories written by our patients.  We hope you will enjoy this book.  We will call you as soon as we can."

Wow. Just wow.  This is the kind of doctor I want to call my own!

I will probably devour the book today.  Goodbye, to-do list; hello, just-what-my-very-soul-needed reading!!

Just listen to an excerpt from the Introduction, written by Dr. Hilgers' former personal administrator:

"...With Gratitude [to] Dr. Thomas Hilgers, Pope Paul VI Institute director who generously shared his time and expertise in contributing to this book and whose visionary and pioneering efforts in women's reproductive health have, with God's help, led to the healings these women write about...

The idea for this book came from Pope Paul VI Institute nurses reading over the many patients' notes of appreciation sent to them and Dr. Hilgers over the years.  Their words have had a deep impact and have been saved and treasured...

As I shared these stories with Dr. Hilgers, he told me the deep gratitude of these women for his research, clinical and educational work was overwhelming and a bit embarrassing.  He was concerned that this book would be viewed as some type of self-promotion, but that is not the goal at all.  He asked me to edit out the praise, and I did to some extent but it was such an integral part of each story that to eliminate it would distort each woman's own story.

...I hope that the words of these contributors will provide answers as well as hope."

Wow. They just get it. all. Praise the Lord!

Thanks again for your prayers.  We truly feel them working in our lives and are so grateful for the love and support we have received.  Blessings!  I'm off to read...

Feeling like...

Right now I'm feeling it.  That feeling of inferiority.  Behind.  The weight of the to-do list in my head - crushing.   Like "I never get anything done around here."  Trapped in our toy-infested, never totally clean, always laundry to do house.  Slacker.  Lazy.  Like I'm always doing too much at once and not enough all at the same time.  Like "please (Ruby) don't ask me if you can help with whatever I'm trying to do in the kitchen one more time.  And please don't ask to use glue one more time.  In fact, if you could just leave me to wallow in my thoughts, that'd be great m-kay?"  And at the same time feeling that childhood is so fleeting and I never "do anything" with my kids.  Some mother I am.  And yet I pray earnestly multiple times a day to be blessed with more children.  Contradiction.  Like I just want to take a nap.  But that if I do I'll just feel worse and more behind.  Like "crap I was supposed to make yogurt, do laundry, and make pear (instead of apple) sauce today and as of noon I haven't even started any of them."  Like crying but the tears won't come because as with every thing else, I'm just not putting forth the effort.

I hate it when I feel like this.  Blurgh.

Oh babies

Today, as I was putting away our Christmas decorations, and getting out our "normal decorations" (the few we have.) I put back up our little statue that we bought to remember our babies up in heaven.

 

And I'd be lying if I said that I haven't been thinking a lot lately about our sweet babies.  Four of them, my goodness.  A full half of our family is up in heaven.  And although half of our family attaining the goal of our life here on earth is wonderful, it also makes me so sad.

As I was putting away our ornaments, I carefully wrapped back up the ornament that my parents gave us in 2008 - the year we lost 3 of our babies.  It's a clam shell with a pearl in it that says "Every life leaves something beautiful behind."  I also ran across a card that a dear friend sent after this last miscarriage that said "All sorrow comes from love and from holding dear."  Such true sentiments.  Even though we knew each baby for such a short time, I loved them all dearly.  I had dreams for their lives.  I had names for them - Caroline, Levi, Hope.  I still haven't been able to name this last baby yet.  It's not for lack of thought about it, the right name just hasn't come to me yet.  

And as much as I want to be ready to try again, I am still very much in mourning.  And not just for this last baby, but for all of them.  I realize that if we had had just one of them, our life would be very different.  There's obviously no way that we could have had three full-term babies here on earth in a matter of a year (2008) but we did have three babies here on earth that year.  And we lost them all.  And I realize that if we hadn't lost those babies, we probably wouldn't have our little Ruby Roo.  So it's not that I wish our life was any different, but I still long for our babies we lost.  I long to see their faces and hold their smushy little bodies.  I long to rustle their hair (like I do to Ira & Ruby dozens of times each day.)  I yearn to hug them and kiss them and show them how much I love them.  But I can't - yet.  I like to think of our Blessed Mother mothering them for me until I get there.  And I like to hope that my grandparents are up in heaven and are singing to them and holding them and spoiling them just a wee bit. 

Which leaves me here, right where I belong for now.  I really am happy with this life that I have.  It's definitely not what I would've chosen for myself, but I'd be a fool to think that I know what's best for me.  Only my Creator can know that.  And I trust Him.

This is what I picture up in heaven:

Beautiful statue that I found for my friend who has also miscarried.

Blessings

Andy and I were pregnant again.  We were due on July 4th.  We found out on October 24th.  Finding out you're pregnant is a bittersweet moment when you've miscarried before.  Instead of it being the beginning of dreaming about baby, it is the beginning a most mentally challenging time.  You don't allow yourself to dream about a healthy pregnancy and a baby because then it seems it will hurt all the more when it's taken away.  Those dreams that are just too beautiful, too right, too good to be true.  For me, up until about 8 weeks (the latest we'd miscarried) are just hellish mentally.  I worry over every symptom or lack thereof.  About the waxing and waning of symptoms.  I wonder every time I go to the bathroom if this will be the time I see spotting.  There is scarcely a moment of the day where I'm not thinking about the fact that I'm pregnant and about what could happen.  And as the days tick by on the calendar, it seems as though the worry only gets worse, not better.  Up until the first sonogram, when things become clear one way or the other.  In our case, there's either a healthy heartbeat, or a very slow heartbeat and sub-chorionic tears.  And so we know whether we will have a baby or a miscarriage.    

We scheduled our first sonogram for November 15th.  I felt nauseous many, many days (which I hadn't with our 3 miscarriages), so on occasion, I allowed myself to dream about having a successful pregnancy.  I dreamed about how we would tell people and when.  I thought that Christmas would be a wonderful time to share our news.  We'd be right around 13 weeks, through the awful, worry-filled first trimester.  I thought how delightful it would be to feel the baby moving inside of me.  I dreamed about telling people on Facebook and all the wonderful happy comments.  I dreamed about watching my belly grow and wearing maternity clothes.  About those awkward hugs from Andy as my belly got "in the way."  I dreamed about baby names and about labor and delivery.  About nursing and baptism and Godparents.  About Ruby being a big sister!  About Ira being a big brother again.  About a lifetime together.  I let my mind wander to those blissful things on the days I felt nauseous.  Because I actually like that nauseous, sick feeling, because for me that's a sign of a healthy pregnancy.  Those nauseous days are good days - even great.  Which also means that those days that most would consider "good" - the days when I felt fine - those were some of the hardest days.  Those days I just wanted to curl up in bed and sleep, because when I was sleeping, I couldn't think about what could happen.  But as the pregnancy progressed and the nausea didn't, I wondered.  My mind tried to rationalize why I wasn't feeling as sick as I knew I should (eating healthier, staying busier, hormones being just right where they should be, etc.) but in my heart of hearts, I wondered.

We went for our first sonogram on November 15th.  I was right at 7 weeks pregnant.  We were hoping to hear a healthy heartbeat but instead saw an empty gestational sac.  The sono tech thought maybe I was off on my dates, but when you practice NFP because you've struggled with fertility and miscarriages before, you know that you aren't off on your dates.  Not even a little bit.

My doctor wanted to repeat a sonogram the following Monday to see if anything had changed.  Nothing had.  I was diagnosed with a blighted ovum, meaning that essentially as soon as the egg was fertilized, the baby stopped growing.  Makes you really think about the fact that life really does begin at conception.  Because I wasn't pregnant with nothing.  I was pregnant with a baby who is now up in Heaven glorifying God.  And so we began Thanksgiving week knowing that we were losing another beautiful baby and waiting and hoping, even praying for a natural miscarriage (because apparently sometimes with blighted ovum, it can take weeks for your body to recognize that the pregnancy isn't progressing, sometimes so long that you're at risk for infection, in which case a D&C is required - not something I wanted to go through.)

We told our parents right after we found out on the 21st, but it just felt weird to tell anyone else at that point.  Saying "we're going to miscarry" just feels a little weird, because in the back of your mind, until it actually starts, you hold onto that miniscule hope that maybe, just maybe everyone is wrong, that maybe you'll actually see all those things you dreamed about come to fruition.  And in case you're wondering, it turns out it hurts just the same whether you let yourself dream those dreams or not.

I finally, thankfully, started miscarrying on Saturday, November 26th - Andy's birthday.  My niece had a birthday party that day and I didn't want to ruin the day with our less-than-upbeat news.  And then, the longer we didn't tell people, the less I wanted to tell people.  You probably know the feeling, you're just tired of sharing some sort of news, good, bad, or indifferent.  I remember feeling the same way after Ruby was born.  We called our immediate family and one of my best friends (her godparents) and then I just wanted to be done.  It wasn't that the news wasn't wondrous and miraculous, I was just sick of telling people.  I just wanted to spend time with my newly-born miracle.  Same with this, I didn't want to tell anyone else. 

So it wasn't until Tuesday that I basically had to tell my younger sister because I invited her over to learn how to make yogurt.  Tuesday was the day that the miscarriage really started in earnest.  The bleeding became very heavy and the cramping was comparable to post-birth when baby starts nursing - you other moms know the cramps I'm talking about.  Plus, there was just a lot of pressure "down there", making it difficult to stand for very long.  So it wasn't like I could just not tell her - despite really not wanting to.  Then of course, I had to tell the rest of my family the next day.  I didn't want anyone to feel "left out" by not knowing.  Didn't even feel like telling my best friend (Ruby's godmother who has experienced multiple miscarriages as well.)

I knew in my head that I really wasn't facing the grief well - basically just in denial still.  I hadn't even really cried.  Part of it was that we were busy with the holiday, but part of it was that I just wasn't ready to come to terms with it all.  Friday though, a number of things happened that brought me face to face with the fact that we'd truly lost another baby and I spent much of the day sobbing.  And I called my friend and we cried together.  And it was good.  And healthy.  And necessary.

I will say though, this miscarriage has been totally different than the three that we experienced in 2008.  Part of it is that this miscarriage had somewhat of an explanation (blighted ovum) and although we certainly don't know why this particular pregnancy developed into a blighted ovum, we know that it did, and that that's why this pregnancy wasn't successful.  That's much more knowledge than we have, even still, about our three other miscarriages.  And most of it is that I'm in a much better state mentally.  Ruby's birth was therapeutic and redeeming in multitudinous ways.  Before we had Ruby, I worried that Ira would be an only child.  No offense to only children out there, but that is just not something we ever dreamed of or wanted for him.  I felt regret over not relishing my pregnancy, labor, delivery, and early days with Ira.  I just wanted to be done with them, because I naively thought I would get to experience them over and over as our family grew like I just knew it would.  But with Ruby I did relish all those moments as if I would never get to experience them again.  So that if I never got to again, I'd at least have those precious, sweet, beautiful moments committed to my heart.  Before Ruby, I needed another pregnancy to ever feel "right" mentally again.  God, in His mercy, granted me that, although I certainly didn't merit it.  And I don't take that fact lightly.  I was given her and her pregnancy as a pure, undeserved gift.  And it was SO healing.  And although I long for a big family, I feel so grateful for the two precious, beautiful, fearfully-and-wonderfully-made gifts that I have been given.  And I rest in the peace that God's plans for our family are better than my own.

School Days

As many of you know, Ira started Kindergarten this year.  Here are my reflections on the subject in general.

When I found out last year that Kindergarten would be all day for Ira, I cried for days.  Seriously.  But then over the course of the year, things changed.  I still wholeheartedly believe that it's ridiculous for kindergarten. to be an all day affair.  I think that 5 year olds would be much better off if they had a half day of school and a half day of play.  But over the course of the last year, I became comfortable with the fact that come August, Ira would be in school all day.  And at some point during the summer, I started to look forward to school starting.

Because you know what, Ira was R.E.A.D.Y.  He was "bored" (my words not his) at home.  It was like no matter how much I did (and I'll admit, I could have tried harder), I couldn't keep him content.  He would read in his room for an hour and a half each day (sometimes more), but then the rest of the day, he just wanted something to do - something to sink his teeth (and by teeth I mean brain) into.  So yes, I began to look forward to him being able to have that constant mental stimulation that school would provide.  And the structure too.

You see, Ira is the opposite of me.  I like it when my days are completely unplanned, unfettered.  We don't have a schedule.  A routine certainly, but our days are pretty "free-spirited."  Well, in reflecting about it, I came to realize that Ira is a schedule kind of dude.  He likes to have something to do all day and thrives in structure and schedule.  (Seriously is he my kid? - Don't get me wrong, it's not that I can't perform in a scheduled, structured environment, it's just that naturally that would not be my first choice.)  So, school is truly the perfect fit for him.

Now back to his first day of school... We double-checked all of his supplies the day before and then went bowling (his favorite thing to do) before going out to dinner at Olive Garden.  It was a nice good-bye to summer.  We also made up a schedule (gasp! me?!  I know...) for school mornings to make sure that we had plenty of time and didn't feel rushed in the mornings (I hate feeling rushed.)  So, I woke him at 6:50 and he was quite cheery and excited for the day.  Then the trips to the bathroom began.   

You see, the week before school started Ira got really really sick (sicker than I'd ever seen in 5+ years) (a trip to the ER, bloodwork, bloody stools, a CT scan, (concerned about appendicitis), and 4 days of 103 fever, we find out it was just a bug... a nasty nasty bug.)  Even a week later, Ira was still complaining of his waist hurting (his bowels I'm sure) and still had diarrhea.  He was in so much pain that morning that I wasn't positive I should send him to school.  But I took a chance guessing that once he got to school it would take his mind off of it - which thankfully I was right about.

So back to trying to eat breakfast that first morning.  Ira probably had to get up and go to the bathroom 7 times.  He didn't even finish his breakfast, and I only got halfway through "Oh the Places You'll Go."  We hardly had time to take pictures before heading out the door at 7:45.  Yeesh, and I said I hated rushing...

However, Ira's spirit wasn't dampened by the whole thing and he had a WONDERFUL first day of school.  I didn't even cry (surprised even myself there.)  He came out of school with the hugest smile on his face and couldn't wait to tell me all about his day.  It was wonderful to see him so happy and excited.  I am truly excited for him.  And it's amazing how much time I feel like I have during the day now.  I love having one on one time with Ruby.  It's so nice to have time during the day to myself too.  I've gotten a lot done around the house lately!  And it's fun to go pick him up each afternoon and hear how his day went.  My little boy is growing up and I couldn't be more proud!

And, lest you think I would subject you to an entire post without pictures.  Here are his pictures from the first day of school!

Seriously, could he look any more excited/proud?!

 With sissy...sort of...

 At his desk.

 Finding his name on the SmartBoard.

Crazy for this girl

Ruby has not always been the easiest kiddo to take care of.  She cried a lot when she was a baby.  She wanted held a lot, but only wanted me to hold her.  From very early on, she wanted to go to bed at a time that even bar-hopping college students would find unreasonable.  She didn't like her car seat.  She didn't like diaper changes.  She didn't sleep well at night.  And she had crazy sensitivity issues with a number of foods.  She did always nurse well (and fast,) so I guess she had that going for her.  But she was not what anyone would describe as a "happy baby."  You know, "oh what a happy little baby you have there."  "She's just so easy going," etc.  HA!  I don't think anyone ever uttered those words about Ruby.  Probably because she gave anyone other than mamma the good 'ole stink eye (see nearly every picture of her from her first many months of life.) 

Like I said, not an easy baby.  It was a good reminder for me that love is a choice not just a feeling.  (Sometimes the last thing I wanted to do was nurse her/get up with her/hold her for the thousandth time)  It also made me appreciate the love that our Heavenly Father has for us (whiny, complainy sinners.)

Really though, this post wasn't meant to be philosophical, I just couldn't help reflecting on how far we've come when I sat down to write.  Because now, Ruby is a pretty stinkin' easy toddler.  She loves both sets of grandparents and doesn't even cry when we leave her with them for babysitting.  She has such a great and easy routine.  She is an excellent sleeper.  She goes to bed SO easily.  She eats well, does well in the car, and has an incredible vocabulary (like, if I were to take a guess, I would say that at 18 months she probably says around two hundred words as well as about a dozen signs)  She sings songs and says rhymes (5 little monkeys jumping on the bed.)  She loves LOVES ice cream  She plays well by herself. And has the cutest, funniest personality.  She is constantly doing things that make me smile and crack me up!  And she is just the happiest little girl so much of the time, so I just wanted to take a post to celebrate the sweet and silly little girl she is becoming.

Here's a glimpse into that silly sweet personality:

 Ruby LOVES the Little People school bus.  On any given day, I see balls, binkies, baby wipes, or batmans riding in the bus.

 She really REALLY wanted to ride the bus one day.  So much so that she was crying while trying to cram her head through the door so that she could get in.

Laughing while mommy was trying to take a picture

 I was going through our clothes for fall/winter the other day.  Ruby kept bringing me clothes to put on her and this is the outfit she ended up in.

 There was apparently something really hilarious about eating tzatziki.

 This is how I found her after a nap one day.  She had pulled her shirt over her head but her arms were still in it so it looked like a shawl.

 She pushes her baby, (or her duck, doll, batmobile, stuff from the recycling bin) really fast in her stroller.

 Here she was trying to climb in her highchair so she could play with the buckles. 

 I see you!

So yeah, praise God for this sweet, silly, (and smelly at the moment!) little girl! 

The long and short of it

I have always been attached (unreasonably so) to Ira's long hair.  I loved how cute it was curly and long and floppy.  It just seemed like it was part of his personality.

For those who didn't know what Ira looked like as a baby (or 18 month old) here are some pictures for a refresher:

Just LOOK at those curls!

His hair also grows incredibly fast.  Like... he's 5 years old and has had his hair cut around 20 times... fast.  (Thank goodness for my sister who cuts his hair - I'm happy to pay her!)

Alas, we found out that when he goes to school in the fall, the school rule for boys' hair is that it "cannot touch the collar or the ears."  So I knew the day would come when we'd have to cut his precious locks.  And I'd really, really been dreading it.  You see, every time Mandy cut his hair short (which I'd had her do before just so she wouldn't have to cut it so often) I would CRY.  There I admitted it.  Perhaps I am vain or looks-obsessed or something, but it just seemed like Ira wasn't himself with short hair.  He wasn't that adorable, funny, floppy-haired little boy.

So, as you can imagine, Mandy wasn't real excited to do the "big boy" hair cut on Ira.  But he'd already changed in looks with his glasses, and I figured that I'd be a mess enough come the end of summer about him going off to school the last thing I would need then was for him to look like a totally different kid too.

So we decided to have her cut his hair short.  Shorter than she'd ever cut it before.  And let me tell you.  I LOVE it!  I didn't even cry!  It was definitely an adjustment at first (I saw him a couple times at Story Hour and was like "whose kid is that?" before I realized he was mine.)  And everyone that saw him for awhile after he got it cut seriously did. not. recognize. him.  But I love the cut.  I love how easy it is.  And I love how handsome he looks.

And truly, the thing that I think I was really mourning all along was not the loss of his curls or long hair, but just the fact that my baby boy is growing up.  And he's looking like a big kid now - and that's okay.  I'm proud of the boy he is growing into!    

Ruby's 1st Year

I've been putting off writing this post because I know it's going to take some reflection, which takes time, which is something I don't have a lot of to devote to blogging.  I also think it's kind of funny that this will be scheduled to post on Ira's birthday.  It's just how we roll I guess, about a month behind!

Ruby is one and I really can't believe it.  This precious miracle that we prayed for for so very long is not only here, but she's been with us an entire year!  It's gone by very quickly.  I think it must go that way the more kids you have or something.  A friend shared a quote one time that rings so very true, "The days are long, but the years are short."

Dear precious baby girl:

We waited and prayed for you for so very long.  You have fulfilled more dreams and renewed more hope than you will probably ever know.  I will always think of you as our little miracle.  Your birth was hard and beautiful and everything that I wanted for a natural childbirth.  We were all immediately in love when you were born.  Ira, well, I don't think it's possible for him to love you more.  And you, well, you're absolutely in love with him too.  You've been saying his name since you were about 5 months old and still yell it with fervor whenever you don't see him.

When you got here, we realized early on that you weren't going to be one of those "easy, laid-back" babies.  You hated your carseat, you only wanted mommy all the time, and you thought 3 am was a pretty good bedtime.  And although that made your early months very challenging, it was hard to get too upset about it because we'd prayed for you for so long.  Things got a little better once you  hit 3 months though.  I got really sick the weekend of Uncle Drew's wedding and Daddy had to do everything for you - except nursing of course.  You seemed to discover after that that people other than mommy could take care of you.  That definitely made life a little easier.

You started crawling right around 6 months - couldn't stand not being able to follow your brother everywhere.  And shortly after that you started pulling up.  Your physical prowess never ceases to amaze me!  You started standing on your own pretty early too.  And right around your first birthday you started walking.  You love to carry around this little basketball we have and throw it and chase it before picking it back up and throwing it again.  You love to swing and slide and go outside and crawl around in the dirt and grass too.  Oh and you LOVE to dance.  Whenever you hear anything that remotely resembles music you start bouncing and "dancing."  I think you've even gotten both feet off of the ground a couple of times in your jumpin' dancin' fits.

 It amazes Daddy and I how determined and "opinionated" you are.  You are a girl who knows what you want and you go about getting it as best you can.  Very early on you started crawling over to the bookshelf and pulling off books to "read" to yourself.  Recently, you've started getting books and carrying them over to us and plopping down in our laps so we can read them to you.  It makes me smile everytime!  We've also seen you rifle through the toy box for your favorite toy at that particular moment (your musical clock, your basketball, or the ketchup bottle have all been steady favorites.)

 

 Girl, you've got some lungs too!  Your crying (from very early on) was enough to send Ira running for the gun muffler to cover his ears.  There's no doubt about it when you're upset, you let us know.  We started teaching you signs when you were about 6 months old to help with your communication frustrations.  You can sign "eat," (fingers in your mouth) "drink," (index finger in your mouth) "more," (fingers tap together) "all-done," (pulling at your bib) "milk," (squeezing your right hand (usually) like you're milking a cow) and "carrot." (right hand palm with fingers spread comes up under left hand.)  You also know quite a few words.  Right now, you say "dada," "Ira," "bah-bah" (bye-bye) "bah" (ball) "h-eh-h-eh" (doggy or outside) "kch" (when you start to get into trash) "dee-ooo" (thank you), "Anna" (referring to your cousin or other babies that you see), "hah" (hi), "bah bah beh beh" (sing-songy "by by baby," and "la la" (what you do when you sing.)  Oh my goodness, I almost forgot about you saying "Uh-oh" every time that ANYTHING falls or gets dropped.   It's so fun to hear you try new words (or see you trying to figure them out.)  Recently, you've discovered "screaming."  And not one to be told what to do, you shush yourself when you finish screaming!

 

 Don't get the wrong impression from this letter though.  You are an easy baby in a lot of ways too, and when I think of your first year, the good memories FAR outweigh the bad. You play very well by yourself.  You're very flexible as far as napping and mealtimes go.  You nurse well - have from the beginning.  And you eat well too.  You haven't always been able to eat everything (you would get terrible diaper rashes - like to the point of them bleeding with some of the new foods we introduced) but you've eaten and loved pretty much everything we've given you.  You love to be silly and make us all laugh, and do a pretty good job between blowing raspberries and shaking your head, plopping down on your bottom, or just belly-laughing for no reason.  And although we had a bumpy start with the sleeping thing, you are one of the easiest babies to put down for naps and bedtime!

 

  So although this first year hasn't always been easy, I wouldn't want it any other way.  You've helped me grow as a mother, you've made your brother a sibling (and a doting, loving one at that), and your daddy adores you.  I can't even imagine our family without you.  Heck, I can hardly remember what life was like before you.  It just seems like you've always been a part of our family.  God knew just the kind of kid we needed when he sent you to us.  I feel so blessed to get to watch you become the little girl (and eventually the woman) that God wants you to be.   I am so blessed to be your mommy.  Happy first year little one!

Love, Mommy