Funk

In a funk the last day or two.

Not sure why, but then again, I do know.

Having a cystic tumor removed at the end of the month.

Not sure what all will come out with it.

I have my pre-op appointment the day before the surgery.

I say surgery because of the nature of this "thing" I have to have it incised...meaning it can't be done via laparoscopy.
That I have had before. This? NO. CLUE.

Nervous about the recovery. Nervous because my husband has no time off. Nervous because it puts me out of work for the entire holiday season.

This kind of put me into a tailspin funk.
Last time I 'went under' I was so hyped up on emotion and basically I was in shock I didn't have time to THINK about it.
This time?
I have three weeks to stress and stew over it.
I knew it was coming, that isn't a surprise.
I have known for 30 some odd weeks it was coming.

I just don't want to deal with it.

Good news?
These types of tumors are usually benign.
Not worried about cancer or anything at this point.

Just the fact I am having to THINK about my womanly self in any fashion just has me reeling.

It has consumed most of my adult life.
The pain has slowly returned and leaves me angry and upset.
Part of me wishes and hopes and begs my doc to rip it all out.
The other part of me knows it is probably not for the best.
It doesn't mean I won't try to convince him otherwise.

Funk.

Thank goodness for Prozac, I don't know where I would be today without it.

Thankful the parts worked well three times.
Thank you parts.
(I am aware that some people's parts don't work at all. For this reason I am thankful. But...)
...Parts...I still hate you.

In Peace

I will try to ignore the way this 'funeral' came about.

I won't tell you it is because this tiny bird was sitting across the street on the porch of the vacant home probably since Millz was born.
I will try to not get into the fact that every day my children have gone over to look at the dead bird that fell out of the nest.
I will even refrain from telling you that yesterday my kids ripped off one of the dead bird's wings with their
bare hands.

I won't tell you how I freaked out when Memms brought said wing to me, or how I began ranting that we need to respect life, la la la la la.

After I washed hands and gave baths, I reset myself and we taught about respect for living things, and so...

A funeral in pictures:

Buyer Beware

So, uhm, this post has NOTHING to do with buying, but has everything to do with the other people at the grocery store.

The mid-twenty something (or younger I would assume by their tactlessness) men who frequent the grocery stores, and or work there during the times this pregnant woman must drag her kids to the store.

This post is for you gentlemen.
I use the term LOOSELY...extremely loose.

About two months ago, Hubbs was at work and we desperately needed groceries. So, I did the unimaginable but the much needed grocery shopping trip with the two kids. Oi. We did fine until checkout when the grocery store I chose takes the kids behind the checker...you know cuz that is how it works and it is the only way to get the cart through the line. Well, Memms decides she is going to have a freak out (not uncommon...she is a drama queen at times.)

Well, the idiotic dood who is bagging my groceries just can't handle her. He can't keep his big mouth shut for some reason and begins cursing and using the "Lord's" name in vain in reference to my child. Now, I can handle most things, but this was OUT OF LINE. Wanting desperately myself to get the H out of the store, I quickly paid and went to my car, all that night wishing I had said something to him, or complained to his manager, it was just not OKAY...this is customer SERVICE people, not, "Make this customer never come back service."

So, I let that one slide...until yesterday.

We needed milk. It was only 95 degrees outside, but alas we needed milk, and again Hubbs was at work, so I had to drag two tired, hot kids to the store, and as I situate them into the "Car Kart" I realize that there is only ONE steering wheel. The other had been broken off. SO, we give Memms the first go because afterall "Ladies First".

Then we get to the milk and I ask her to switch so that J-Man can have a turn.
Well, she does but then proceeds to FREAK out right in the dairy isle of Smiths.

Like, grade-A freak out.
(grade-a...I am SO FUNNY.)

Well joy of joys, who do I see out of my peripherals but two young men, who in their stupidity didn't comtemplate that this pregnant woman with TWO...YES TWO children ALREADY...might not need their input begin to say,

"Shut! UP!" and "Geez that kid is SO loud, shut her up."

Me? "OH NO HE DIDN'T!"

He got the...and I am sorry for all of you who don't like profanity...but the "man" er uh boy got the,

"Shut the H up you F'in Bast_ _ _ _!"

As in I said the entire thing.

Now...I don't condone this behavior.
I am nine months pregnant and I can't handle one more thing right now.

So I warn you, you man who has never had children, who has no clue that even though your children are driving YOU crazy and everyone else around them, that BESIDES that,
you love them regardless...
and will protect them beyond anything...

TO YOU I SPEAK:

BEWARE...because next time I am nine months pregnant, with my two kids, at the store, in 100 degree weather, it will be more than a few profanities...
it will be your head covered in 1% milk and Swiss cheese...
and I may be arrested, but it will be SO worth it.

You've been warned.

Learning To Love Me Part 1

Pardon the freaking weird layout...it won't let me hard return...blast.

I started off editing these, thinking I was going to write a grand old post about how wonderful the workshop was. Which it was, but as I spent time with myself...'up close and personal' like...my mind shifted to other things.

I couldn't sleep at all last night. Really, I probably drifted off somewhere around four in the morning and woke up at eight and couldn't sleep again. What is my deal?

My mil asked me tonight if I was pregnant. I just about died. Besides not wanting to cry in front of someone I am pretty sure doesn't like me...and obviously, for whatever reason thinks I either look pregnant enough to ask...I was just plain old mad.

So, back to last night...no sleep. My mind kept returning to what I was originally going to title "the post in my mind" 'Fertile Mertyle...Infertile?'. This is that post, but because it is going to be SO long and SO intense...I'll break it up for you.

First of all, my mind went back to our early years of marriage, of all the doctor visits, of all the physical pain at the time...the emotional came later when I was diagnosed and told I may never have babies. I remember sitting in the office of the doctor I loved and despised for different reasons. I loved her because she could finally put a name to whatever was ailing me...hated her because of how she made me feel about myself. I was 141 lbs when I was diagnosed with Endo. Today? Sheesh...a whopping 171 lbs. What I wouldn't give to be that fat again, but this doctor...that is what she would always focus on...my FAT...my weight. So after the diagnosis, and subsequent treatment, I never ever stepped foot in that office again. I dealt with the roller coaster of emotions.

We got pregnant with Jothan a few months after my treatment for the Endo supression. Lucky. Blessed. Happily. I went to a new doctor's office...to my current doctor, who is so sweet, but whom I have never shared how much hurt I have really experienced, and to whom I don't really talk about how much pain I am suffering...cuz it is just too hard. I don't want to go over it all again, I don't want to be treated, I don't want to feel like a failure...that...and I don't really know what is going on with my body. I feel like this office had the happy, smiling Kim, the one who had a beautiful baby boy...and two point five years later had the most beautiful little baby girl ever.

Fast forward almost three years later. Five babies in one year...gone. The failure I feel for having lost my baby at almost 17 weeks. The "Chelsia" shiz. Juan, his sister, then another failed placement. The trying to get pregnant...the exercise/running that is getting my body no where...the pants that fit too tight...the not knowing what to do but cry sometimes, because I am afraid. Afraid to keep trying for number three because DOOD it has been almost three years and IF by some miracle we get pregnant...how old will Memms be? I just want to bawl. Crawl into a corner right now and scream and cry...and let it all out like I have so many times this year. I hate this. I hate it with a passion. I hate feeling empty...even though I have the world...such a contradiction, but even with all the happiness, the pain masked, it is still there...and it bleeds at times.

So...I was thinking about all of these things through the 3:00 hour this morning...and then tonight, when I was spending time with myself...I realized...I am strong. I am wise. I am a better person for all of these trials. I am closer to my husband, who sweetly says when my period comes, "I'll get you pregnant next month!" Ha! I am more appreciative of my babies that I do have, that I get to cuddle each and every day. I remember how important they are when my patience runs dry. I even saw that I was beautiful. When I take the time to find that person in me. Beauty really does come from within, I will never be a model, but I will be a fantastic mother, a faithful wife, a daughter of God. No matter what I need to live up to that potential. I like this girl I see I even love her...I would like to love her more though. She knows what she needs to do...why the heck doesn't she just do it?

Jewels in the Crown

Help me out here.

My mind and heart are all consumed with the events that have transpired over the past 12 weeks of our lives. My life in particular, as this is my blog. (I just need to reference the fact that I have not been going through this alone...that Flavio, Joth and Emm are right here going through it all with me.)

I never thought in a million years that so much shiz could be piled onto someone in the short spance of 12 weeks. I recognize that it could be a heck of a lot worse, and by all means I am thankful that it is not worse...but in our little corner of the Universe, it is pretty crap-filled.

If you ever asked me would I have lost the chance to raise three little spirits in the short amount of time of three months...I would have laughed at you in the face. I would have said, "NEVER!" I would never have put myself in that position. How utterly naive I was. How utterly naive I am.

When I get dressed in the morning, I see that little infant car seat sitting on the floor...I think back to how it got there. When my friend asked to borrow it...then I never put it back in the garage because Peanut was coming...then I never put it back because a little baby girl was coming...it is still there, and I just don't know what to do with it now.

We haven't heard from Chelsia for over a week. Her due date is June 25. The story about this is long and exhausting. I have lived this once before. It is excruciating. I've never shed so many tears, I have zero answers. I don't even know what to tell the world about this. I wish I even knew what to tell myself.

My husband and I are to this point that we are "DONE" whatever the meaning of that is. Done with building our family. I guess that is what we are feeling. (This is uber personal...and we still have some leg work to do in regards to the final decision...but this is where we are leaning...) even though I think this could be good, it scares me to death.

The thought of never holding a new baby in the middle of the night...watching someone crawl for the first time, walk for the first time, find another binkie, wash another bottle, clean spit up off my dry clean skirt...those are hard things to potentially let go of. On the flip side, to devote all of my time, talents and energy on the two beautiful jewels I have been given...well that is a very appealing choice as well.

I've heard it all, "You guys are SO young...you shouldn't make this decision now." "You have plenty of time." "You'll get pregnant again." "You can always adopt another baby." "What about Foster Care?" I don't know. I know that I had this perfect idea of how I wanted my life to go...and I didn't think that it would be where I am right now.

I've learned a lot. I'm thankful for the two sparkling jewels shining in my crown right at this moment...and the one little beam of light watching over us from heaven...three's a good number right? I've done enough haven't I?

I wish I knew.

All I really want to do right now is throw a toddler fit.

Thankful for my freedom.

I wish I had a photograph to post with this. I don't, but hopefully my message can get across.

Today as I was so blessed to be able to drive to the store and pick up a pizza, I noticed on my drive home, our flag--The American Flag waving on a flagpole. It was then that I remember a trip I took to Brasil a few years ago. I remember visiting, and how odd it felt that everywhere I looked I saw the Brasilian flag waving in the wind, instead of my beloved Stars and Stripes.

I felt a lot of pride today, and thankfulness that I live in a country, and more importantly a portion of our country where I can afford food for my children. I have the luxury of driving to the corner and picking up a pizza.

I dunno, just stuff I take for granted a lot, but seeing that flag today, reminded me of how blessed we all are!