While I heal...

So good to be home.

Regular old happy life is a beautiful gift.

Leaving the hospital (again)!

It is amazing what a difference functioning bowels make to overall feeling good.

I feel good.

My five day hospital stay came to an end.

I left yesterday afternoon with a catheter, a drain that is catching fluid from my abdomen, and a bag full of medicine.  

I was able to leave a Book of Mormon with one sweet nurse.  I really think she'd be a great member of the church.  I love how she said that every Mormon she has ever met has been really happy.  (I'm glad I wasn't the first cranky Mormon she knew.  Haha.)  

The kids all signed her book.  It was fun.  I would love to give any of you a copy too if you'd like one.  (Just email me your address!)  My goofy kids had so much fun decorating our note.

I really love good hospitals.  They remind me of churches.  It is beautiful to be surrounded by people who heal.  Todd and I love people.  How we enjoy time together while so many new people come in and out.  Rarely do you get 20 minutes alone with a stranger.  It's beautiful.

I enjoy learning about families and histories.  So many immigrants work as hospital staff.  We met a woman recently immigrated from Cuba with her husband and 7 year old daughter.  She came through Canada, had to go to Florida to get help through Catholic Charities, and then moved to Upstate New York for work.  

With her eyes full of wonder and fun expression trying to pour through her very limited English, she said how much her daughter LOVES snow!  She said her daughter wants to build a snowman every day.  Mom thinks "is too cold", but daughter says "is so fun".  

She needs to work to get money, but she greatly anticipates one day seeing New York City.  Wow.  What a life story!

I don't even know enough about immigration or immigration regulations to know the politics behind this woman's journey.  But, I am so glad she's here with her family and I believe good, hardworking (honestly, you should have seen her scrub my room) people like her can't help but make our country stronger.

My surgery was amazing.  I feel so blessed.  I'm not sure I really understand all that they did in this eight hour surgery, but this is what I think happened.

My Miyagi Urologist robotically cleaned out adhesions (scar tissue) from all inside me.  He fixed my fistula, removed the stitched part of my ureter and re-implanted it into my bladder.  I had purple non-dissolvable stitches all over that he was able to carefully remove.  I think he operated over 5 hours on me!  He is an amazingly skilled robotic doctor.

Then, my Irish colon doctor robotically cleaned adhesions from all around my intestines.  The worst adhesions were from an intestinal surgery I had when I was twelve.  He spent over and hour getting my intestines to be free floating in my abdomin.  

He opened up my stomach along my vertical scar.  I had a hernia that was the length of my scar and more near my belly button.  He made sure the intestines were clear and in a good place and then turned me over to plastic surgery to close me up again.

Dr Belly (as I like to call him) had seen my most recent CT scan.  He showed me that my abdomen had no muscle (it was all atrophied) because I had two horizontal cuts on my belly that cut off blood supply to the muscle.  The first horizontal cut was for that surgery when I was 12, then I had two c-sections (Leah and Lily)- thus, no muscle.  

Dr Belly took muscle from the left side and moved it towards the right/center.  This gave a barrier between my intestines and skin so I am less likely to hemorrhage again. Then, he spent hours slowly stitching me closed.

I can't lift more than ten pounds for six weeks.  Little Ben is 23 pounds of chub.  

I'm very tender, my insides are sore.  I'll have a catheter for at least two weeks.  

(Two days after surgery and still swollen.)

I texted a picture of my stomach to my cute sister who had a beautiful tummy tuck last year.  I really think my stomach still looks pretty sad,

I was shocked when she texted me this back--

I did NOT get a tummy tuck.  Just a hernia/scar repair.  I knew it would look better if a plastic surgeon stitched me closed but I was aiming for a stomach that would allow me to safely lift my children and grandchildren, not a bikini body.  

I think Mr Belly really did a nice job.  He came and sat by my bed a couple nights just chatting with me.  He said he never does general surgery these days.  I think I made him feel good.  I had no idea how much he had fixed me up.  I probably should have thanked him a little bit more.  (I'll see him again soon.)  

Anyway, soo good to be home.

My nest is best.

I love it here.

I love writing this little blog of mine.

I'm grateful for weeks in the hospital.

Thanks for reading about my silly surgery.

Thanks for caring.

I really like people.

Don't you just feel how good life is sometimes?

Phooey on Pooey

Todd's encouragement and over-animated "Wow!" as I experience poo progression is just about as helpful as was his hand on my shoulder while saying the word "Release" during Eve's delivery.  Thanks for trying babe.  But sometimes a woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta doo doo.  

Door closed.

Feeling better.

They have mentioned home.  

Friday/Saturday or Saturday/Sunday.

I have three darling, wise, different doctors.  

They were each essential, beautiful parts of my recovery surgery and I love them.

1- Dr Miyagi the Urologist

2- My real-live, shamrock sock wearing, Irish brogue speaking bowel doctor

3- My plastic surgeon (who is going to discover a safer way to stitch up c-sections and teach it to ob's across the world so Accreta rates drop! Really, he can!)

I have no idea when I'm going home.  :)

Um.  Hello!!

While standing nearby and exclaiming "Wow!" might not be particularly helpful, keeping housekeeping males out of the bathroom while I um, finish a blog, and rest a bit IS very helpful.

Next time.  ;)

Life with plumbing is a little better!!

Blah.

It's been a big crapper of a day.

Oh my!  I have not yet needed this HUGE white throne- but it makes me happy knowing it is here when I do.

Waking Up.

Rocking.

Recently, I read a blog post about sleeping babies by a mother I love.

I found myself reacting strong, emotionally and a bit defensively.

I read a sweet mom who was saying that she was willing to make the effort to care for her babies during their first year of life.  She does this by nursing, co-sleeping, wearing and bouncing her babies.

I do not co-sleep, breastfeed, or even rock my baby to sleep.

He is one of the happiest, easiest babies I have ever known.

She wasn't attacking me at all- but I felt attacked.  Why?

We all have these moments, don't we?  Where something someone says rubs a raw place in our heart.  I can't tell you how often understanding these raw spots has given me a chance to heal and grow.

I found myself mentally writing an ongoing essay about the pros of teaching your baby to sleep in his own bed, supplementing with formula if necessary and NOT baby wearing.  I can write that essay because I do believe in those things.

But, I also believe everything this mom was saying.  We are way more alike than we are different.  Why the emotion??

Duh.  

You could have told me, couldn't you?

Um-- hello!!  I didn't actually choose not to nurse, carry my baby, or rock him to sleep.  

One afternoon, Ben started whining and I knew he was ready for his nap.  

My sleep routine is, I carry him upstairs (if no one is home to carry him for me), hug and kiss his delicious little self, lay him down on his belly in his crib, turn on the fan, hear him take a deep breath, turn to see his eyes closed, and walk out the door.

Really.

He doesn't cry.  Sometimes he whines and scoots for a few minutes.

He is very nearly always content.

This afternoon, instead of laying him down, I sat with him in my glider.

The glider I've soothed and rocked eight children to sleep in.

Ben fussed-- he would rather be laid down.

But, I couldn't.  I wouldn't.

I needed him to let me be his real mom.

I kissed on him and sang to him and used all of my maternal wooing to trick him to sleep in my arms.

In the midst of my charming mother duck impersonation, Ben smiled, took a deep breath, and fell asleep with silly grin still on his face.

I sobbed.  Sobbed!

How I've missed this!!

I missed holding him, rocking him, being the ONE in his life.  

I've been sick and weak and tired... and I've missed so much.

This stupid year has given me life, given me a precious son, given me wisdom and experience and robbed me of too much.

My stomach wound has kept me from being able to hold my big guy.

Actually, holding him when I shouldn't have cost me a hernia and upcoming bowel resection.  It sucks.

The absolute hardest thing about the past year has been seeing, yearning, needing to parent and being physically or emotionally not strong enough to do it.  Hard.  Hard times eight kids, one husband, a silly puppy, and a new house who all need more than I am physically or emotionally capable of giving.

Whenever I write blogs like this, people always try to comment and remove the pain.  Please, do not think that this blog has anything at all to do with another mother's sleep habits.  It doesn't.

This blog is about me, and you, and how allowing ourselves to recognize raw spots can help us to heal.

Reading another mom's testimony of loving bedtimes reminded me to mother more.  To let myself feel again.  To let myself mourn this sweet time that I am missing and also to let me feel the beauty that I still have.

I rocked my littlest to bed again tonight.

(I'm hiding in my bedroom, sobbing, writing this post because my world outside my room is overwhelming.)

I cannot bear to leave my family again.  I hate seeing everything that I didn't get done before I'm leaving and I hate knowing that I will come back healing. 

I'll be unable to lift- again.  Unable to pee, unable to be intimate with my husband, unable to grocery shop by myself, or care for my own house.  

My surgeon said no lifting over 15 pounds for 6 months.  My baby is close to 25 pounds.  I will lift him, cautiously.  I will do laundry in time.  I have a hernia- I know why they warn you.  And, this is hard.  I will do it, but it is hard.

Do you feel that pain with me for one minute?  Just feel that feeling of wanting, needing to lift and comfort and knowing that if you did or if you didn't, you'd be hurting.

I needed to feel it, so I could move on.

I hate this.

I just want to be a regular old mom.

I'm really scared.

I know I can do this.  I just don't want to.

I don't want to need help.  

I don't want to be optimistic and strong.

I don't want another IV, another scar, another cut into my ureter or my intestines or my stomach.

I want to paint my nails with my big girls, go see a movie with my boys, lay on the floor reading to the little girls while they color me pictures and play with my hair.

I want to make passionate love to my husband without him feeling afraid to hurt me.  (Sorry to say it, but it's true.  And you should all love your husbands extra gratefully tonight- because you can!)

I want to nurse my chubby baby boy, to rock him to sleep, and to be the only one he wakes up to each morning. 

I don't want housework to be so physically difficult for me that it is all I do!

Ugh!

When I ignore the hard, I just become numb and distant.

I've been a bit numb and distant this week.

Feeling the pain and letting myself grieve, also opens the path to healing.

Rocking my sweet, solid little boy hurt and healed my mother soul.

I felt how he is not mine and claimed him back.

This baby is mine.

He loves me.

He knows me.

My hard is worth it.

He is worth this year of hard.

Without the hard I couldn't have had him!

Like it or not-- this is MY life.

I don't love this chapter, but I really love the book.

Tomorrow I will say goodbye to my ever-needy leprechauns.  

They will be well-cared for without me.

I will feel the sacrifice of many for me and mine.

I will overwhelm some who offer to help and offend others- it's a ridiculous balance.

I will leave my baby and he might not even notice I am gone.

Little orphan boy.

It hurts both ways- if I think he'll want me and if I think he won't.

I will cling to my husband even as I feel the weight he carries.

I will feel afraid and feel holy peace.

I will experience pain and feel the love of many.

I will have some things repaired, some questions answered, and have things that still need to be repaired and problems unanswered.

Tomorrow night I will be one day older and a few steps wiser.  

My hard will be different hard.

And, soon.  

So soon, I will find my way back to this glider.

I will reclaim my maternal throne.

I am their mother.

They are mine.

I can do this for them.

For him.

This is an honor because I am so blessed.

Oh, I know how blessed I am.

And, I feel Him, my Father.

Take me into His arms, even as I fuss to just lay down and go to sleep.

He rocks with me, and distracts me, and pats my tired back with his familiar hands.

He is mine and I am His.

And, without this hard, I couldn't know Him like I do.

I wouldn't know me like I do.

Sometimes, He holds me while I cry, so I can feel His love.

Life is hard and good in the very same beautifully crappy moments.

I'm actually really excited for tomorrow.

Thank goodness I don't have to think about it for that much longer.

Who knows if I'll ever be brave enough to publish the silly, emotional, therapeutic post.

It is real.

My scars have made me strong.

And i know that 

Life is good!

Placenta Accreta- Surgery 9 months After C-Section

If you are reading this blog and have been diagnosed with Accreta or Percreta, my heart goes out to you.  My story is not typical- it's close to worst-case scenerio.  So-- don't let my story scare you!

We are lucky to live in this modern-age of medical advances, but actually experiencing the miracle is hard.  I try to laugh my way through and take one day at a time.  I know God holds you and your little ones close.

My baby is 9 months old.

He is beautiful, happy, and a bit delayed even if one uses his adjusted preemie age.  

We have full confidence that he'll catch up soon.

When I chose to not abort my little guy, I was very naive as to how hard my journey to get him here would be.  

Today, I know how hard it was and I would make the exact same choice again tomorrow.  Life is worth the sacrifice.

I feel better than I have in a year.

I can walk, sit on the ground, perform normal tasks like grocery shopping, laundry, and sex.  (Just the essential tasks for us "non-working" mothers.)

I have had a stent in my left ureter for over six months.  It has been changed twice.  I have had numerous cystoscopies, CT Scans, urine analysis, kidney tests, blood tests, etc..  

I pee my pants often.  

No, I'm not talking about a gentle leak when I cough.  I'm talking about a soothing, warm, "good thing I'm wearing depends" pee.  I love it.  ;)

I almost always have a kidney infection, bladder infection, or a yeast infection.

My legs are tingly and numb at times.  

The hair that fell out after my delivery is just growing back in, so I'm a complete fuzz head (not chemo-like, just regrowth).

My pain is manageable.

Aside from my almost constant antibiotics and vesicare (to relax my bladder), I don't take any medication.

Follow-up issues...

1- I have a stitch in the bottom of my left ureter (the tiny tube that brings urine from your kidney to your bladder).  My surgeon is planning to cut that part off my ureter and reattach it to my bladder.  This is kind of tricky because my bladder is pretty scarred.  

The problem with the stitch is that my ureter gets clogged and my kidney gets infected (and even septic).  One side-effect of reattaching a ureter is urine reflux, that causes kidney infections.  Nice.

As doctors were working frantically to save my life they made only two small mistakes, they cut my right illiac artery (oops!) and caught my left ureter in a stitch.  I absolutely love and appreciate my miracle working doctors.  They are my heros.  If it weren't for them, I'd be dead.  It really bugs me when people are critical of the work that they did.  Just so you know.  I can't even imagine trying to sew someone closed in the midst of a blood bath.  I am nothing but grateful and in awe of brave, brave surgeons.

2- I have a fistula that goes from my bladder to my vaginal opening.  A fistula is a tube that forms when two stitched areas sit on top of each other- it's the easiest way for urine to get out, so it just forms a tunnel.  In my case, my stitched bladder was near my stitched cervix and a little tube was created.  Urine comes out where I used to bleed.  Interesting, huh?

Fistulas are hard to fix.  You have to actually place a barrier (like a piece of intestinal wall) between the two open wounds to stop a fistula from reforming.  Lovely.  A side-effect of this surgery is that it might not work and could cause future issues with my intestines.  Lovely.

3- I have some yucky stitches and that fistula opening where my cervix used to be.  I think they are going to clean that up.

4- I have a pretty large, scary hernia near my belly button at the top of my vertical incision scar.  (How I wish I had worn my stomach binder faithfully for at least six months post surgery.  Not that it would have changed things- but maybe it could have.)  

You have a lot of layers on your stomach- skin, fat, muscle.  The top of my scar didn't heal right, so I have skin and then intestines.  Yuck!  If I hold my baby too long or don't wear my binder, my intestines pop out like a painful bubble.  It's awful.

My doctor says there is only 3mm of skin covering my intestines. Gross.  My intestines are actually adhered to my skin.  So-- they have to do a bowel resection to fix my hernia.  Ugh. Yes, I could still end up with a poop bag.  I hope not!

I have surgery scheduled for Monday, St. Patty's day.  My surgeon better be wearing green!! 

I'm sad, scared and nervous.  Mostly I'm just distracted.  I really can't focus on my normal life because I have this impending cliff getting closer quickly...

Right now, they are planning to do a laparoscopic surgery to repair my innards.  (Six two inch slices around my stomach).  They don't think they can fix my hernia at the same time which makes me a bit crazy.  I really don't want to go through this again!

And- that's all.

I wish I could organize my basement, decorate my house, play with my kids, or file away my overflowing box of "papers to save".

Next week I'll focus on plumbing issues and return to life as a lady of leisure soon enough.

Sigh.  I receive many Facebook, blog and email messages from woman dealing with Accreta.  I'm hesitant to continue to share my details because frankly, this is rough.  

I wish my blog could let you feel, for a moment, how really hard this has been AND how genuinely beautiful it has been.

I am alive because hundreds of people have learned and trained and practiced and served and prayed and laughed and cried and worked to keep me alive.  It is humbling and empowering.

The veil between life and death is thin.  It is a veil any of us could cross any moment.

One of my heros, Elder Russell M. Nelson was a world renown heart surgeon.  He was a pioneer of open heart surgery.  One evening, as they were folding laundry together watching television, his own wife had a heart attack and died in his arms.  Can you imagine?  He was a heart surgeon!!  Death is beautifully, tragically, inevitable sometimes.  

Both life and death are passageways.  They are both gifts necessary for our eternal progression.  Trials mold our souls and refine us.  I am full of gratitude that my hard had purpose!  We all have hard-- I feel lucky to have a beautiful, chubby, delicious baby to motivate me onward.

(What I get to wake up to...)

Life, even with messy insides, is good!

Today is a great day to be alive.

So is Tuesday, by the way.

Thanks for reading!

Plan Ahead School Lunches

Yes- we pack our lunches on Saturday morning!  Actually, we pack 60 lunches every other Saturday.  Ha!  That's 10 days of lunches for 6 kids.

(I have a friend who does PB and J, as many as they want, an apple, and frozen, homemade baked goods.  Her kids drink from the water fountain.  That is definitely the cheapest way to do lunch.  I was raised on free lunches with packed lunch envy.  I want my kids to have fun lunches, so I sacrifice a little money and a little healthiness.  Sometimes I make creative, fun lunches for them. But, lately we're in survival mode.  So this is how we roll.)

Who doesn't like a little extra time in the morning before school?

Although I thought we had a pretty easy lunch system- making six sandwiches every morning took time and was messy.

We decided to try packing all our lunches on Saturday!  

On weekday mornings, my kids just grab their snack/chips bag, grab a frozen sandwich, and grab a drink.  

Quick and easy!

I borrowed the concept from Uncrustables.  

If they can freeze PB and J, why can't I?

(I bet I could freeze ham and cheese too- but I'm scared of nasty cheese thaw.)

We make 60 (yes, 60) sandwiches on Saturday morning.

It takes about 7 loaves of bread.

So, count on about 8 sandwiches per loaf.

We do 30 peanut butter and honey, 30 peanut butter and jelly. 

(We write a H on the honeys.)

We use the pampered chef circle cutter for the little kids- just like Uncrustables, and cut the bigger kids' in half (diagonal is better, obviously).

Then, we pop them in the freezer.

(I started making some extra sandwiches so the bigger kids can take two if they want.)

The kids say they are perfect by lunch time and not soggy at all.

I buy 2 weeks worth of lunch snacks.

I think the key to fun lunches is variety.  That is also how I deal with picky kids.  They might prefer one snack over another, but I teach them to eat what they get knowing tomorrow it will be different.  (Make sense?)

In general, I buy categories--

Each lunch has 

-bag of chips (veggie straws, pretzels, trail mix, etc.)

-a dairy snack (yogurt, string cheese, etc.), 

-a real-fruit snack (applesauce, pears, etc.), 

-a granola bar (hard or soft), 

-and a fake-fruit snack (fruit by the foot, fruit snacks, etc.)

(That sounds like a lot- I actually bought only enough for one chips and 3 other snacks.  They had to choose between a fake fruit snack and a yogurt/string cheese.  But that was more confusing to explain.  Plus, they all eat part of their lunch during snack time so honestly 5 things isn't too many.)

Originally, I planned to give them 4 packaged snacks and one fresh snack like carrots, celery, peppers or apple slices.  I do make snack bags of carrots and keep them in my fridge door.  I have tons of fresh fruits and veggies.  My kids can grab that stuff in the morning to add to their lunch. I don't worry if they don't bring fresh food for lunch though- because it's all they eat after school.

Shopping-

So, since I shop every two weeks, I have six kids in school for ten days.  I buy 60 snacks in each category.  See- I do math!

So, 30 yogurts, 30 string cheese, 30 applesauces (no added sugar), 30 pears (in pear juice), 30 hard granola bars, 30 soft, 30 fruit snacks, 30 fruit by the foot or fruit leather.  

Does this make sense?

If the math doesn't work out, I'm ok with extra.  Eve and I eat the extra at home during the week.

Aldi or Costco is cheapest for my lunch snacks.

I buy big bags of pretzels and veggie chips that we put into snack bags.

A small bag of chips makes 10 snack bags.  So, three small bags per week or two big bags (trail mix or pretzels).

Sometimes I grab a bag of Cheetos to mix in for fun and they love bringing popcorn (we make real- not microwave popcorn).  

I also like to grab a bag of starbursts (or something like that) every now and then to throw in.  Just one starburst makes lunch exciting!  

See- that's how I become the fun mom.

Drinks, I buy 30 small waterbottles and 30 fruit juice only Capri Suns.  (My youngest can't open the water bottles and my oldest don't like Capri Suns so it works out.)

Assembly--

On Saturday we set everything out on the table.  Big kids make and freeze sandwiches, little kids put chips in snack bags. 

Then, they have a tray with their name on it and 5 sandwich bags (one for each day).  They pick their snacks for each day and stick them in their sandwich bag.

We have everyone pick one week then do our second week.

What I really want to do is write cute/dorky/funny notes (with stickers) on index cards and have the kids pick them up with their snacks each Saturday.  I'm going to do this next week.

I store the trays on a shelf in my cold garage.  If I had less kids I would store them in my fridge.  I'm still looking for a storage system that is cuter.  But these trays work for now.

(Like my messy cabinet?)

Honestly, this system is fun, easy to shop for, and really makes mornings easier.  My kids love that they got to choose their snacks so they are really excited to make their lunches each day.

(Sometimes I'm embarrassed to share these things with you because my family is not super fancy or super organic.  Just take it or leave it as another idea from a regular mom.)

Works for me!

Life is good when weekday mornings are peaceful!

Stuck in my driveway- again.

I drove all over town today in a real-life blizzard.

It is beautiful here!

I LOVE snow!  I love snow storms.

Really-- it is lovely!

I had lots o dental work.

(Another day I'll share all my tips for dealing with PTSD.)

My body has a physical panic response that makes me shake, breathe fast, and cry.

I tell myself over and over that these people are helping me! 

That I love them and they love me.

And, it's true.

I feel loved at the dentist.

Yes, I took pictures while they were working.  I'm a dork.  

Getting my hair cut, the lady, Patti was so nice.

She was encouraged to abort her second son because they told her he would have downs or be retarded.  He is a 22 year old college student today that still causes his mom to get teary-eyed as she cuts my hair.  Everyone has a story.

Talking to random ladies at the grocery store I feel loved.

This kind lady, Maurine, told me how to make homemade sloppy joes.  (Onion, ground beef, ketchup, yellow mustard, a touch of  vinegar and brown sugar.  Delish.)

I felt loved as I had my blood drawn and loved as I got some chest x-rays.

People are kind and good.

I drove all around town without incident and then got stuck coming into my own driveway- that snow was deep.

Ha!

Jakob got near the muddy tire pushing me out.

At home, little girls had a dress-up day.

Love them!

Eve is sick!  Oh- pray this doesn't spread while I'm preparing for surgery!

See- I'm a dork.  Like my shiny teeth?

Thanks for being good people.

Good people make life good.

I know it.