It is my week to see the baby doctor. I have said it before I like my practice, and I have had some great help/experiences there. I really like it because every time I go in, the phrases "great" "good" "alright" "looks great", and my favorite "perfect" come out of the nurses', technicians', and doctors' mouths.
I am competitive. That might be a small understatement. When I do something I will put my everything behind it, and expect the best out of myself. There are times this competitive side can be a burden, but for the most part I think it has helped me achieve the goals I set for myself.
Now I knew nothing of pregnancy before Pat was announced in early January. I was one of the nerds who went home, from the doctors, with a purse full of pamphlets and read them all. I like to be informed. But what I found was that there were no real set in stone rules. Sure, they say you shouldn't have caffeine, but when I questioned the doctor he said a little, or even a medium amount, is okay. Then there is the alcohol, even that in moderation can be okay. That seems to be the game with all of the "rules". Everyone is different. Some can, some can't, for some people exercise is a no-no, for others the more the better.
So at the beginning of this pregnancy I found myself almost floundering. How was I to be the BEST in the pregnant world if there weren't rules to follow? How could I guarantee I was doing the best thing for me and Pat? We all know what the world would be like without rules, and don't get me started on how it doesn't make sense to bend the rules for some, and not others. Between the constant nausea, my fatigue, surprise, and fear I had to figure out a way to navigate the next 9 months.
Well I must be doing something right. Today I was weighed, and I am RIGHT on target. I have two months left, and I have not yet gained the full 30 lbs they wanted me to. My blood pressure is in the exact normal range. My bump is measuring perfect. I should have been a little more than 31 inches. I was 31.2 inches. We are on track for the most part on getting things in order for Pat. We are still lacking in the child care department, but we are working hard, and going on TONS of tours. Paperwork is caught up, we have our hospital tour scheduled, labor classes next weekend, and another baby care class the weekend after that.
So how did I do it? I threw all the rules out. I know, totally not like me. I went with what my body and mind told me was right. I don't drink alcohol, or caffeine very often when not knocked up, so I haven't done it with Pat. I like fresh fruits and veggies so I eat those in the same amount that I did before. I drink water when I want it. I eat snacks when I want them. I have stayed on track with my training, but know when to take a day off is needed. I stayed away from cat litter, except when Jacob is away with the Army, then I am left with no choice. I didn't give up moving/lifting things. I don't think I make it a point to lift super heavy things over my head anyway, so I was safe with that. I napped when I could. I still go out and see friends when I can. I am still doing most of the house work, except vacuuming the couch. That just hurts my back too much. I have to go up and down stairs to my house, and if given the chance, I take stairs over an elevator every time. Oh and I still park at the back of parking lots, on purpose.
I have no guide. I have no close friends going through this journey along with me. I am happy to ask questions when I have them, but I will reserve the right not to listen or follow the guidance given. And I guess I have learned to just listen to my body, and do what I think it needs.
It seems to be working. I know it is inappropriate to fist bump Jacob when the doctors is staring at the measuring tape in awe of how "perfect" I am every week, but I can't say I don't think about it. It is just the competitive nature I have. I want to be the best I can for Pat. I want to be able to look at the other mothers in the waiting room, and say "Yea, that's right! I am almost a perfect pregnant chic" as I slap high fives on my way out. I guess in the future when others come to ask me some advice, I will ask them what do you think is right? I think that is the only way every lady will feel confident with what they did, assuming their number one interest is the unborn baby. I have yet to find myself with regrets, and as I have said before....I must be doing something right!
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Friday, June 22, 2012
A different perspective
I know I should have written this post 3 days ago, but I just wasn't feeling it. When I leave a doctor's office I have to call Jacob, my mom, my dad, my sister, and my in-laws. Of course there are always a few friends who text and want to know know what the results were. All have good intententions, and I really don't mind, but after you explain the same thing over and over again, writing it out in a blog seems almost draining.
But here is the general gist of what happened on Tuesday.
Georgia Cancer Specialists is up on the 6th floor, and they are they only ones up on the 6th floor. Anyone going in the building knows what is on the 6th floor. So when I, the obviously pregnant woman, gets in a crowded elevator and push 6 I got quite a few looks of sympathy. I was able to ignore those. I don't need/want strangers sympathy.
When I got off the elevator and rounded the corner to the check in table, I heard a couple of squeals. Two of the desk nurses ran over to hug and pat my belly. I hadn't been to the office since Dec, which for me is a really long time. No one there had seen me pregnant. I guess I should explain that I am somewhat of a special case over there. When Jacob and I moved to Atlanta, I was 24, and the youngest patient by almost 20 years back then. Almost everyone knew who I was. I don't think I am the youngest anymore, but I have been going there for 4 years, on a very regular basis. So not only had they not seen me in a while, I was pregnant, another occasion that doesn't happen often for many of the patients there.
Everywhere I turned more and more nurses came out and hugged me, chatted, and I felt my fear slowly disappear. I was here with "friends". I was trying to explain the overall feeling in the office to a friend the other day. Working in a cancer department, obviously for the majority of your time you will work with sad/disappointed/grumpy/ with the occasional upbeat people. I think it must be a requirement for the nurses that they must be in a good mood everyday. The overall feel of the office is upbeat, you hear a lot of laughing, and everyone jokes around with everyone.
I had my blood taken, and then was taken back to Dr. Saleh's wing. Dr. Ellen, and Dr. Saleh met me before I even made it into a room. Big hugs all around. They followed me into a room and we just started talking about what was going on. Dr. Saleh did go on to explain that there are many reasons that my platelets are dropping. It has to do with me still having my spleen, something we would have taken out prior to trying to get pregnant, whoops.... and my antibodies are the mono-cysts, apparently pregnant woman automatically produce more of those naturally. So my body is creating the one thing that destroys my platelets. Great. Dr. Saleh decided that if I can keep my platelets above 50,000 we will not be taking any action. If I go below 50 then we will look at steroids, and then we will go from there. Dr. Saleh is a doctor that likes counts, and then the count will tell us what to do next. I knew I was at 73,000 when I had the CBC taken at the baby doc. Then there was a knock on the door.
The lab report was handed over. My stomach dropped, and then I choose to hold my head up. I was ready. My new count was 62,000. They went down. Kinda drastically in a week. But Dr. Ellen looked at me and said "You are over 50 so let's celebrate!" A whole different perspective. She was right.
So for the rest of my pregnancy I will see the baby doc one week, and the blood doc the next. Close monitoring, and taking it a week at a time. On my way out I saw a few other nurses, and the hugs, and the belly pats did help change my attitude. I have a healthy baby right now, I am pretty healthy right now. And for all of that I am thankful.
But here is the general gist of what happened on Tuesday.
Georgia Cancer Specialists is up on the 6th floor, and they are they only ones up on the 6th floor. Anyone going in the building knows what is on the 6th floor. So when I, the obviously pregnant woman, gets in a crowded elevator and push 6 I got quite a few looks of sympathy. I was able to ignore those. I don't need/want strangers sympathy.
When I got off the elevator and rounded the corner to the check in table, I heard a couple of squeals. Two of the desk nurses ran over to hug and pat my belly. I hadn't been to the office since Dec, which for me is a really long time. No one there had seen me pregnant. I guess I should explain that I am somewhat of a special case over there. When Jacob and I moved to Atlanta, I was 24, and the youngest patient by almost 20 years back then. Almost everyone knew who I was. I don't think I am the youngest anymore, but I have been going there for 4 years, on a very regular basis. So not only had they not seen me in a while, I was pregnant, another occasion that doesn't happen often for many of the patients there.
Everywhere I turned more and more nurses came out and hugged me, chatted, and I felt my fear slowly disappear. I was here with "friends". I was trying to explain the overall feeling in the office to a friend the other day. Working in a cancer department, obviously for the majority of your time you will work with sad/disappointed/grumpy/ with the occasional upbeat people. I think it must be a requirement for the nurses that they must be in a good mood everyday. The overall feel of the office is upbeat, you hear a lot of laughing, and everyone jokes around with everyone.
I had my blood taken, and then was taken back to Dr. Saleh's wing. Dr. Ellen, and Dr. Saleh met me before I even made it into a room. Big hugs all around. They followed me into a room and we just started talking about what was going on. Dr. Saleh did go on to explain that there are many reasons that my platelets are dropping. It has to do with me still having my spleen, something we would have taken out prior to trying to get pregnant, whoops.... and my antibodies are the mono-cysts, apparently pregnant woman automatically produce more of those naturally. So my body is creating the one thing that destroys my platelets. Great. Dr. Saleh decided that if I can keep my platelets above 50,000 we will not be taking any action. If I go below 50 then we will look at steroids, and then we will go from there. Dr. Saleh is a doctor that likes counts, and then the count will tell us what to do next. I knew I was at 73,000 when I had the CBC taken at the baby doc. Then there was a knock on the door.
The lab report was handed over. My stomach dropped, and then I choose to hold my head up. I was ready. My new count was 62,000. They went down. Kinda drastically in a week. But Dr. Ellen looked at me and said "You are over 50 so let's celebrate!" A whole different perspective. She was right.
So for the rest of my pregnancy I will see the baby doc one week, and the blood doc the next. Close monitoring, and taking it a week at a time. On my way out I saw a few other nurses, and the hugs, and the belly pats did help change my attitude. I have a healthy baby right now, I am pretty healthy right now. And for all of that I am thankful.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Superwoman I am not...
The lab results came in this morning. My sugar test came in negative, which is a good thing. But my platelets are low. The message from my baby doctor said that I was to call my blood doctor. The only thing that my OBGYN would say for right now is with my levels where they are I will not be receiving any pain management during labor.
I called my blood doc after I sat and participated in a pity party for an hour. My doc's nurse answered the call, and she had been expecting to hear from me. She also said they missed me around there. I did laugh and say I didn't feel the same way, no offense :)
There is no real plan as of right now. My blood doc likes to wait a week to check my levels and so I will go in next week Tuesday and get more blood drawn. At my appointment I will find out exactly what this all means.
I let family know first, or course, and my dad's reaction "I thought you would have problems way before this." True. I should be thankful I am 29 weeks along and I haven't had any blood problems. Truth be told, when the blood doc found out we were expecting, he was on the list of the highly disappointed. Not because he didn't like us, but we didn't know we were trying, so my body had not been prepped. He let us know right away there would be complications along the way. Then my mom's reaction "Are you really surprised?" No....I guess if I really looked at the symptoms I was afraid to acknowledge, and the fact that my doctors have been prepping me mentally for issues this whole time, I shouldn't be surprised.
This news sucks (my mom hates that word, and I couldn't say it growing up, but my mental thesaurus is a little tired today) so it sucks...
There is nothing I can do right now. I am officially out of remission, wow that was a lot harder to type out than I thought. I am to go about life as I did before I knew what remission was like. I can still get out and exercise, but I must watch what I am eating, drinking, and taking pill wise. NO BLOOD THINNERS. I know how to live this way. It was a nice 3.5 years, but even when they claimed remission I knew it wouldn't last forever.
So I am faced with another life change, and I will have to wrap my brain around a positive spin, as I will eventually talk myself into. Maybe I can look at it as I have been down this path before, I know what to do. It can't be half as scary as being a mom. Right?!
I called my blood doc after I sat and participated in a pity party for an hour. My doc's nurse answered the call, and she had been expecting to hear from me. She also said they missed me around there. I did laugh and say I didn't feel the same way, no offense :)
There is no real plan as of right now. My blood doc likes to wait a week to check my levels and so I will go in next week Tuesday and get more blood drawn. At my appointment I will find out exactly what this all means.
I let family know first, or course, and my dad's reaction "I thought you would have problems way before this." True. I should be thankful I am 29 weeks along and I haven't had any blood problems. Truth be told, when the blood doc found out we were expecting, he was on the list of the highly disappointed. Not because he didn't like us, but we didn't know we were trying, so my body had not been prepped. He let us know right away there would be complications along the way. Then my mom's reaction "Are you really surprised?" No....I guess if I really looked at the symptoms I was afraid to acknowledge, and the fact that my doctors have been prepping me mentally for issues this whole time, I shouldn't be surprised.
This news sucks (my mom hates that word, and I couldn't say it growing up, but my mental thesaurus is a little tired today) so it sucks...
There is nothing I can do right now. I am officially out of remission, wow that was a lot harder to type out than I thought. I am to go about life as I did before I knew what remission was like. I can still get out and exercise, but I must watch what I am eating, drinking, and taking pill wise. NO BLOOD THINNERS. I know how to live this way. It was a nice 3.5 years, but even when they claimed remission I knew it wouldn't last forever.
So I am faced with another life change, and I will have to wrap my brain around a positive spin, as I will eventually talk myself into. Maybe I can look at it as I have been down this path before, I know what to do. It can't be half as scary as being a mom. Right?!
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
The color lavender
I am very well aware of a CBC. My journey with ITP started when I was 20 years old. I discuss the start of my journey here. The CBC tube is the light purple, or lavender, tube they collect blood in. I am well versed in the different colors, but the lavender one is one I had taken every week for almost 6 years.
The lavender tube has ruled my life in a way. For the first 2.5 years of ITP I went in every week to make sure my platelets were maintaining. If they stayed the same I stayed on the same medication. If the levels shifted, I changed my dosage, or meds all together. After 2008, when I got really sick, the CBC was still taken every week, but then it was a statement of how bad is it? And it got bad. So bad in fact I wasn't healthy enough to start chemo for 4 months. Many people don't realize you have to meet certain health requirements to put a poison in your body. I would go into the doctors over and over again hoping for the right numbers, just for them to shove the needle up my arm, and the lavender tube to disappoint. Finally the lavender tube said I had enough platelets for my first chemo treatment in April 2008.
But my affair with the CBC didn't stop there. I had to continue to go in every week, to face the lavender tube. My platelets dropped pretty fast, I was placed back on steroids, and then finished 6 more rounds of chemo during the summer of 2008. Remission was claimed in Nov 2008, and I have been in remission since then. Right before I found out I was pregnant the doctor was talking to me about my next round of chemo. It was almost time. My platelets had been falling again. At the time we were discussing chemo this summer.....or what would have been right now.
The lavender tube became a way of life for me. What the tube said was where my life had to go next. Not enough platelets, too many, how fast are they falling? The tube made a lot of decisions for me.
So back to the doctor's office yesterday. I knew I was doing the sugar test, and I am pretty sure the doctor said that he would do a CBC since we were taking blood anyway. We had not taken a lot of CBCs during the pregnancy because everything was going so well. He hated to take blood from a seemingly healthy pregnant woman if we didn't have to. I was sitting in the lab, hooked up to blood pressure machine. Everything had gone fine, and I was reading my book. The nurse walked in, and put two tubes down on the counter next to me. One of them was the lavender one...
I felt the breath in my chest shorten. I held my breath a little bit. I know my heart rate quickened. When the blood pressure machine registered the change, the nurse bent down, and said "Oh, honey I am so sorry. You don't like needles?! You should have told me. Your blood pressure just went a little crazy." My throat was still a little dry, and all I could do was smile. I am not afriad of needles. I could care less about those needles....but that lavender tube.....
I am trying not to freak out, as I do not have my lab results back yet. I am sure all the counts are fine. But what will the tube say? What if my counts are low? What if they are super low? What if Pat is in danger? What if there are transfusions, bed rest, or chemo in my future? Just writing about this I am noticing my breath is short and quick. I hate that my next life decision sits in a lavender tube.
I should be used to it. I know my body better than anyone. I feel great. I am starting to run/walk again. I have energy. I am perfect measure for my 29 weeks along, and I have gained almost exactly the amount of weight they wanted me to by this point. I shouldn't be afraid of what the CBC will say because I am fine. But too many times in my life this lavender tube has let me down.
Monday, June 11, 2012
I hate the cooking segments
I love being able to wake up in the morning to watch the news. During the school year I have the news on in the background as I get ready, but I leave the house at 6 a.m. so I never get to see any of the morning shows. I like watching the Today Show. Summer break means I get to watch the Today Show.
But I hate, loath, can't stand to be in the same room when the cooking segments are on. There are two segments. One about 8:50 and another about 9:50. I know this, because I watch the time and will literally leave the room, or completely distract myself during these segments.
I have tried to really understand why I dislike the cooking segments. I guess it comes from my disinterest in cooking in general. I see all of those ingredients on the counter, during the segments, and I think... how long do these people stay in the grocery store? I might dislike grocery shopping as much as I do cooking, so that idea is not appealing to me. I am always overwhelmed by the amount of counter space the segment takes up, sometimes they even have two separate stoves. I think, who has that space? Then of course it is the talking about food. I am NOT a "foody". I know the basics of food, and have no desire to go any further. I don't know what half the ingredients are. Not to mention a large majority of the food they show is not good for you. Don't get me started on how much work it is to find good for you recipes. And the whole reason I dislike cooking is how dirty everything gets. I have OCD, and it is EXTREME in the kitchen. I get upset when I think about these chefs going into the "cooking set" having everything already purchased for them, all placed out in the right order, and then the best part, they walk away and someone else cleans for them. Maybe if that was my reality I would have a different feeling about cooking in general.
I will blame my dislike for cooking on my jobs I had growing up. I started working at a pizza place when I was 14. Soon after that I started working at a local burger restaurant where, depending on the day, I may have cooked the food, prepared the food, cleaned up after others, or waited tables. After working there 4 years I moved to waiting tables at Steak N Shake, where I lasted almost 4 years. I did officially wait on tables, but I was a trainer, and worked 3rd shift so I knew how to cook almost everything on the old menu. When Jacob and I married, and moved to Atlanta it was the first time I wasn't working in the food industry. And that was when I was happy never to go into the kitchen.
Sometimes I let myself feel a little bad for my disinterest. I mean after all I am going to be a mom very soon, and that is the mom's job right?! I am to cook my family dinner. Well I guess I am super lucky, because Jacob is well aware of my hatred towards cooking. And once again I must have hit the jack pot because he is more than willing to cook, and go grocery shopping most of the time. He likes making things by scratch, and experimenting in the kitchen. I am not a picky eater so I will eat anything he puts in front of me. I guess we make a good pair.
This morning I tried to force myself to watch and actually listen to the cooking segment at the 8:50 slot. I hated every second of it. They were making homemade pizza, and I thought to myself, Jacob makes an amazing homemade pizza I don't care to watch this. Oh, and the mess they made. The news anchors are really the ones who make the mess. It just makes me mad. They just laugh about it. I am like...pick up after yourself you slob. I will now admit that during the 9:50 segment I went to the kitchen and cleaned it, until I heard Kathy Lee's voice come over the speakers, as my all clear to go back into the living room.
So this blog really has nothing to do with anything, except I feel a little better I let out how much I hate cooking. Sometimes as a women I feel like we are to hide that fact....but when have I ever been one to hide anything.
But I hate, loath, can't stand to be in the same room when the cooking segments are on. There are two segments. One about 8:50 and another about 9:50. I know this, because I watch the time and will literally leave the room, or completely distract myself during these segments.
I have tried to really understand why I dislike the cooking segments. I guess it comes from my disinterest in cooking in general. I see all of those ingredients on the counter, during the segments, and I think... how long do these people stay in the grocery store? I might dislike grocery shopping as much as I do cooking, so that idea is not appealing to me. I am always overwhelmed by the amount of counter space the segment takes up, sometimes they even have two separate stoves. I think, who has that space? Then of course it is the talking about food. I am NOT a "foody". I know the basics of food, and have no desire to go any further. I don't know what half the ingredients are. Not to mention a large majority of the food they show is not good for you. Don't get me started on how much work it is to find good for you recipes. And the whole reason I dislike cooking is how dirty everything gets. I have OCD, and it is EXTREME in the kitchen. I get upset when I think about these chefs going into the "cooking set" having everything already purchased for them, all placed out in the right order, and then the best part, they walk away and someone else cleans for them. Maybe if that was my reality I would have a different feeling about cooking in general.
I will blame my dislike for cooking on my jobs I had growing up. I started working at a pizza place when I was 14. Soon after that I started working at a local burger restaurant where, depending on the day, I may have cooked the food, prepared the food, cleaned up after others, or waited tables. After working there 4 years I moved to waiting tables at Steak N Shake, where I lasted almost 4 years. I did officially wait on tables, but I was a trainer, and worked 3rd shift so I knew how to cook almost everything on the old menu. When Jacob and I married, and moved to Atlanta it was the first time I wasn't working in the food industry. And that was when I was happy never to go into the kitchen.
Sometimes I let myself feel a little bad for my disinterest. I mean after all I am going to be a mom very soon, and that is the mom's job right?! I am to cook my family dinner. Well I guess I am super lucky, because Jacob is well aware of my hatred towards cooking. And once again I must have hit the jack pot because he is more than willing to cook, and go grocery shopping most of the time. He likes making things by scratch, and experimenting in the kitchen. I am not a picky eater so I will eat anything he puts in front of me. I guess we make a good pair.
This morning I tried to force myself to watch and actually listen to the cooking segment at the 8:50 slot. I hated every second of it. They were making homemade pizza, and I thought to myself, Jacob makes an amazing homemade pizza I don't care to watch this. Oh, and the mess they made. The news anchors are really the ones who make the mess. It just makes me mad. They just laugh about it. I am like...pick up after yourself you slob. I will now admit that during the 9:50 segment I went to the kitchen and cleaned it, until I heard Kathy Lee's voice come over the speakers, as my all clear to go back into the living room.
So this blog really has nothing to do with anything, except I feel a little better I let out how much I hate cooking. Sometimes as a women I feel like we are to hide that fact....but when have I ever been one to hide anything.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Thank You
Thank you seems to be the phrase of the past week. I have said it over and over again, and I guess it sums everything up.
Thank you first to my mom, sister, mother in law, and friend Karin for a beautiful shower in Michigan. It was done to the theme of Dr. Seuss and everything fit into the theme perfectly. All sides of the family were represented, and it was great to see a nice mix of friends and family. Here are some pics of the shower and my time in MI. So a huge thank you for the beautiful shower. And another thank you for those who drove in for the shower, or sent some beautiful books and words. Mom and Duane will be driving all of Baby Pat's gifts down at the end of the month.
Thank you to my sister, and mom who also moonlighted as my taxi drivers, while I was in MI. Being in MI is hard without a car, and they were willing to take me where I needed/wanted to be.
Thank you to all my friends who were flexible and met me in different places. Most of you drove to wherever I was. I was able to spend time with so many of you because of your willingness to drive to me. Thank you.
Thank you to Dad and Gary who extended their trip to make sure they could see me in person before they moved to Puerto Rico. It was nice to see you before you left.
Thank you to Jacob who stayed at home and took great care of the house and animals. It is always hard going back home without him, but I know it just wasn't possible this time around. So thank you for keeping the household running while I took vacation.
Thank you to the creators of the movie What to Expect When You're Expecting for subconsciously showing that is extremely safe for women to stay fit during their pregnancy. I won't give the movie away but I was really happy they created the character Cameron Diaz played. They didn't come right out and shout it from the roof top, but it was noticed that you can stay fit, and have an extremely healthy pregnancy.
Thank you to the state of MI for reminding me why I moved. The week before I arrived in MI it was warmer than Atlanta, 90 degrees. Then when I get off the plane it was a low of 40 degrees, and a high of 60. WHAT?! It was that inconsistency that prompted my doctor to suggest a much more stable climate 6 years ago. I do not miss the coolness, the wind, or the lake effect. So thank you MI for reminding me exactly why we packed up everything we had, and started over in Atlanta.
Thank you to a friend who wrote about the train wreck of a show called 16 and Pregnant. One afternoon while looking through Hulu this caught my eye. This show is a train wreck and I can't look away. However, this show has helped me realize I am a bit more prepared for Pat than an unwed 16 year old. I am still mentally all over the place, but Jacob and I have a lot more in place than I think when I just look at the big picture.
Thank you to Pinterest that has helped me find small projects for me to do around the house. I am apparently nesting big time. Just not nesting that has anything to do with Pat, or Pat's room. I am still a bit in denial. It is not real that this bump in the front will be a human, and will need space. I think I am working on making the rest of the house up to par, so when Pat is here I don't have anything else to think about, but Pat.
Thank you to my friend Yvette who gave me a random shout out. In passing it was mentioned that Jacob is leaving for 16 days today. This prompted her to thank me....for being an Army wife. I sometimes forget I am one of those. I am used to Jacob taking off monthly, if not more. But that thank you made me smile. So thanks girl, and I am looking forward to lunch next week!
and a big Thank you to Baby Pat for moving out of my lower abdomen. This has decreased the amount of pain I am in daily, and especially when trying to move around. I am slowly getting back into running. I had to stop running, and start walking, and now I am walking longer distances. I am adding in a run every other mile. I have the Peachtree Roadrace 10k on July 4th, which I am not nervous for..yet.... We will see how it all goes the next two weeks of training.
So that sums it up. I am feeling very thankful for summer, and all that it brings. And maybe even a little more thankful that I still have a few weeks left!
Thank you first to my mom, sister, mother in law, and friend Karin for a beautiful shower in Michigan. It was done to the theme of Dr. Seuss and everything fit into the theme perfectly. All sides of the family were represented, and it was great to see a nice mix of friends and family. Here are some pics of the shower and my time in MI. So a huge thank you for the beautiful shower. And another thank you for those who drove in for the shower, or sent some beautiful books and words. Mom and Duane will be driving all of Baby Pat's gifts down at the end of the month.
Thank you to my sister, and mom who also moonlighted as my taxi drivers, while I was in MI. Being in MI is hard without a car, and they were willing to take me where I needed/wanted to be.
Thank you to all my friends who were flexible and met me in different places. Most of you drove to wherever I was. I was able to spend time with so many of you because of your willingness to drive to me. Thank you.
Thank you to Dad and Gary who extended their trip to make sure they could see me in person before they moved to Puerto Rico. It was nice to see you before you left.
Thank you to Jacob who stayed at home and took great care of the house and animals. It is always hard going back home without him, but I know it just wasn't possible this time around. So thank you for keeping the household running while I took vacation.
Thank you to the creators of the movie What to Expect When You're Expecting for subconsciously showing that is extremely safe for women to stay fit during their pregnancy. I won't give the movie away but I was really happy they created the character Cameron Diaz played. They didn't come right out and shout it from the roof top, but it was noticed that you can stay fit, and have an extremely healthy pregnancy.
Thank you to the state of MI for reminding me why I moved. The week before I arrived in MI it was warmer than Atlanta, 90 degrees. Then when I get off the plane it was a low of 40 degrees, and a high of 60. WHAT?! It was that inconsistency that prompted my doctor to suggest a much more stable climate 6 years ago. I do not miss the coolness, the wind, or the lake effect. So thank you MI for reminding me exactly why we packed up everything we had, and started over in Atlanta.
Thank you to a friend who wrote about the train wreck of a show called 16 and Pregnant. One afternoon while looking through Hulu this caught my eye. This show is a train wreck and I can't look away. However, this show has helped me realize I am a bit more prepared for Pat than an unwed 16 year old. I am still mentally all over the place, but Jacob and I have a lot more in place than I think when I just look at the big picture.
Thank you to Pinterest that has helped me find small projects for me to do around the house. I am apparently nesting big time. Just not nesting that has anything to do with Pat, or Pat's room. I am still a bit in denial. It is not real that this bump in the front will be a human, and will need space. I think I am working on making the rest of the house up to par, so when Pat is here I don't have anything else to think about, but Pat.
Thank you to my friend Yvette who gave me a random shout out. In passing it was mentioned that Jacob is leaving for 16 days today. This prompted her to thank me....for being an Army wife. I sometimes forget I am one of those. I am used to Jacob taking off monthly, if not more. But that thank you made me smile. So thanks girl, and I am looking forward to lunch next week!
and a big Thank you to Baby Pat for moving out of my lower abdomen. This has decreased the amount of pain I am in daily, and especially when trying to move around. I am slowly getting back into running. I had to stop running, and start walking, and now I am walking longer distances. I am adding in a run every other mile. I have the Peachtree Roadrace 10k on July 4th, which I am not nervous for..yet.... We will see how it all goes the next two weeks of training.
So that sums it up. I am feeling very thankful for summer, and all that it brings. And maybe even a little more thankful that I still have a few weeks left!
Sunday, June 3, 2012
About the Hair....
So it is out there on Facebook. My hair is shorter than it has been in 6 years. I didn't want this to happen. I didn't plan on it happening...it just happened. But I must deal with it the way it is.
Last week Friday I went to get my hair cut. I wanted to look fresh for my baby shower the next week. I also thought it would be great to have a couple of days to make sure I could style it the way I wanted to. I had put a lot of thought into when the perfect day would be to get my hair cut. I went to the same place I have the past couple of times. But my regular lady called in sick, so I just went to the next available. She trimmed, my then 2 inches below my shoulders, hair to just above my shoulders when wet. She mentioned to me that she noticed I had layers, and would I like them again.
I did have low layers in the back, and mentioned that to her. It helps with my thick hair to have layers in the back. She asked me to look down, and I figured she was cutting a few layers in the back of my hair. I am won't lie when I say I may have zoned out. I was super stressed about getting home the next week, I had just received not so happy news from my school, I was just in a bad mood. So zoning probably did happen. But I came to when I felt snip of hair awfully close to my right ear. I moved my head up, and tried not to jump to conclusions. I don't really know how to cut hair, and I was assuming this chick with the scissors did.
My sudden move made my hair dresser jump a little and look at me in the mirror. It was then I noticed that it was not my imagination. She held a large chunk of hair that now sat right above my ear, and fell to the front of my face. I tried to hold it together. But she could tell by the look on my face I wasn't happy.
After we worked on our communication, the final story was she heard me say yes to the layers, but didn't realize it was only to be in the back. She immediately called her supervisor over, and after assessing the damage it was decided the best thing we could do was at least even it out. As I watched the manager cut the other side, I couldn't help it...I started to cry. I really did try to hold it together. I know it wasn't entirely this chick's fault. I was having a bad day. I am hormonal. It was just hair. But when all was said and done....over 8 inches was taken from the front, and a pony tail was out of the question. The manager comped my hair cut, and I walked out with tear stains on my face.
I found myself sobbing in the car unable to start my journey home. I called my sister, who demanded I send a picture to her, as she was sure it wasn't that bad. When she called back her words were "I have seen worse...." All I could think of was the baby shower, going home, and having possibly the worst haircut ever. I had long layers in the back, short layers in the front, and nothing was blended together.
We made a plan for me see a family friend when I got home, and she promised she could fix me. For the next days I threw my hair in a head band, and really only left the house twice. When I got off of the airplane my sister tried to hide her smile, but her first words were "It looks like a mullet". One of the major problems with my hair, was there was a party in the back, a party in the front, and I wasn't invited to either party.
Our first stop when I got home was to see my mom at work. She smiled, and tried not to laugh, but it was written all over her face that it was a pretty bad haircut. Our second stop was to our friend Amanda's to get this disaster tamed. It has been 5 days since the chop, so I was pretty much assured that there was no hope in fixing it. But Amanda is AMAZING! She warned me to fix it would be to take the length off. I knew what it would mean. But she would be able to blend it in, and at least make it look like one hair cut. She did a great job.
I know it will grow out. It is taking some getting used to, but I have styled it for the last 5 days, and I am getting a handle on it. I even allowed a few people to take some pictures at my shower. One of those is the one below with my cousin. Without thinking about it she put it on Facebook, shocking a few family members, and friends.
I think back now and I have to laugh a little bit at at crying. If Pat wouldn't have been inside me I am pretty sure I wouldn't have cried, but it is all an adventure. I will post more about my time home at a later date. I have a couple more days here in the mitten, and it is becoming a little bittersweet. I love being home with friends and family, but know my home is in Atlanta.
I will go into details later. So there it is. My hair is short.... and as always in true Amanda fashion there is an elaborate story that goes along with it.
Last week Friday I went to get my hair cut. I wanted to look fresh for my baby shower the next week. I also thought it would be great to have a couple of days to make sure I could style it the way I wanted to. I had put a lot of thought into when the perfect day would be to get my hair cut. I went to the same place I have the past couple of times. But my regular lady called in sick, so I just went to the next available. She trimmed, my then 2 inches below my shoulders, hair to just above my shoulders when wet. She mentioned to me that she noticed I had layers, and would I like them again.
I did have low layers in the back, and mentioned that to her. It helps with my thick hair to have layers in the back. She asked me to look down, and I figured she was cutting a few layers in the back of my hair. I am won't lie when I say I may have zoned out. I was super stressed about getting home the next week, I had just received not so happy news from my school, I was just in a bad mood. So zoning probably did happen. But I came to when I felt snip of hair awfully close to my right ear. I moved my head up, and tried not to jump to conclusions. I don't really know how to cut hair, and I was assuming this chick with the scissors did.
My sudden move made my hair dresser jump a little and look at me in the mirror. It was then I noticed that it was not my imagination. She held a large chunk of hair that now sat right above my ear, and fell to the front of my face. I tried to hold it together. But she could tell by the look on my face I wasn't happy.
After we worked on our communication, the final story was she heard me say yes to the layers, but didn't realize it was only to be in the back. She immediately called her supervisor over, and after assessing the damage it was decided the best thing we could do was at least even it out. As I watched the manager cut the other side, I couldn't help it...I started to cry. I really did try to hold it together. I know it wasn't entirely this chick's fault. I was having a bad day. I am hormonal. It was just hair. But when all was said and done....over 8 inches was taken from the front, and a pony tail was out of the question. The manager comped my hair cut, and I walked out with tear stains on my face.
I found myself sobbing in the car unable to start my journey home. I called my sister, who demanded I send a picture to her, as she was sure it wasn't that bad. When she called back her words were "I have seen worse...." All I could think of was the baby shower, going home, and having possibly the worst haircut ever. I had long layers in the back, short layers in the front, and nothing was blended together.
We made a plan for me see a family friend when I got home, and she promised she could fix me. For the next days I threw my hair in a head band, and really only left the house twice. When I got off of the airplane my sister tried to hide her smile, but her first words were "It looks like a mullet". One of the major problems with my hair, was there was a party in the back, a party in the front, and I wasn't invited to either party.
Our first stop when I got home was to see my mom at work. She smiled, and tried not to laugh, but it was written all over her face that it was a pretty bad haircut. Our second stop was to our friend Amanda's to get this disaster tamed. It has been 5 days since the chop, so I was pretty much assured that there was no hope in fixing it. But Amanda is AMAZING! She warned me to fix it would be to take the length off. I knew what it would mean. But she would be able to blend it in, and at least make it look like one hair cut. She did a great job.
I know it will grow out. It is taking some getting used to, but I have styled it for the last 5 days, and I am getting a handle on it. I even allowed a few people to take some pictures at my shower. One of those is the one below with my cousin. Without thinking about it she put it on Facebook, shocking a few family members, and friends.
I think back now and I have to laugh a little bit at at crying. If Pat wouldn't have been inside me I am pretty sure I wouldn't have cried, but it is all an adventure. I will post more about my time home at a later date. I have a couple more days here in the mitten, and it is becoming a little bittersweet. I love being home with friends and family, but know my home is in Atlanta.
I will go into details later. So there it is. My hair is short.... and as always in true Amanda fashion there is an elaborate story that goes along with it.
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