I Need Padding

The World is harsh. It picks, it scraps and scratches and slaps. And sometimes it wallops you so hard in the gut you lose your breath and come close to blacking out.
Right now I am in the spin and haze of a wallop. Itty Bitty Baby. Oh Itty Bitty Baby and your little flickering heartbeat. That flicker stopped flickering. Literally there one day, gone the next.
My world went dark.
Trying to catch my breath.
Trying to make it through the day without tears.
Trying to hold the joy of Little Man's laugh and smile in my soul to keep the dark out.
Trying to keep the dark out.

"It's Normal" That Isn't Helpful.

I find myself staring down a long road of anxiety and fear. I never expected to be here. Hoped, yes, hoped with the desire of a thousand suns. But Expected? Not so much.
 Here I am 2 weeks out from the BIG 4-0 and the stick I peed on didn't included the "Not" in front of the "Pregnant".
Pregnant.
PREGNANT!!!!!
4 years of trying, a miscarriage, countless needles and blood test. Having Little Man was hard fought, and hard won. I never wanted Little Man to be an only child. I know how much support (and pain) siblings can be, and I wanted him to have it all. And here I am, in the position to give it all to him. A week of knowing is followed by days of extreme anxiety. Doubt. Worry.
Spotting.
I've been there. I knew that time, I knew it was bad. And I waited, waited to see if it was just a one time thing. It wasn't. But that time, that time I knew things weren't going quite as planned. That development had appeared to stop. I had weekly Dr visits to help prepare me. "Ease" me into it. Help explain.
This time? No. None of that. There is some concern on part of the Dr's office. But it is more, "Wait and see".  For them it is routine.
This kind of waiting is torture. Don't they know that? I need answers. I need a direction. I need you to know this isn't routine for me.
I need a hand to hold.
In this situation, I am high maintenance. I'm not asking you to rub my feet, I'm asking you to ease my mind. Help quite my soul, and calm my racing heart.
I want this pregnancy to "stick". I keep telling the little itty bitty baby that it is already loved. That it is wanted.
That it needs to grow and be healthy.
Close my eyes.
Breath.
Pray.
Wait.
Pray.

You Won't See This Pregnancy Story On TLC

My pregnancy had been pretty easy. All the NSTs (non-stress tests) had gone very well. Little Guy was a mover and a shaker. So much in fact that my very first NST landed us in the Hospital because they couldn't get a clear read on him. But an hour and half later I was back home chillin.
Yes, I had Gestational Diabetes from pretty much day one and was put on insulin, but I was doing incredibly well controlling it. My Dr had agreed to let me go to 40 Weeks if everything in that area stayed under control. She knew I didn't want to be induced. And I felt we were well on our way to a "normal" delivery pretty close to my due date.
Um, yeah, no.
I think it was about week 35 that things started to go haywire. 
At one visit my Dr informed me that I had dilated to 2 cm. But in my gut I knew I was no where near ready to deliver. Then my sugar levels started to drop. Which in turn made my insulin needs drop. Not a lot, but enough. In fact it took me a few late night sweats for me to figure it out.  I was in the middle of week 37 and was desperate to go to week 40. My Drs decided that because my need for insulin had dropped, that my pancreas was shutting down and the baby needed to come out ASAP. I was not at all pleased with this. At WORK, on a Wednesday the Dr shut down my hopes by telling me that I was to come in on the following Monday. After I calmed down a bit, F and I were able wrap our heads around a Monday delivery and even made plans for the weekend. Luckily we went shopping for a few important baby items. Thursday, the very next day, the Dr called me at work again and told me I was to report to the Hospital THAT VERY NIGHT.
 I freaked the hell out.
 I was not ready for this! I truly felt that if I had the weekend, my body would do it's job and make the baby ready to come. I still had an appointment with the Dr that afternoon and hoped I could push this whole thing back to the original Monday plan.
Then the Dr called again and said there was no room at the Inn for Thursday night but hey, come Friday!  I'll see you at your appointment!!
No, no, no. I still needed that extra day to finish work! I still needed that extra day to find some peace with this. The Dr would not budge. Even though in two weeks I'd only dilated HALF a cm more. Nope doesn't matter; Friday, come on in!
I knew in my core that this wasn't necessary. That the baby was FINE and we could make it just a little longer. Let my body do what it was meant to do. I thought about refusing to go through it all, but I knew if putting this off meant something would then go wrong and Little Man would somehow be affected, I would never forgive myself. So I relented.  We went in on Friday morning, and were late getting there. They still didn't have a place for me, so we ended up waiting. Little did we know that it was going to be  waiting game for a full day while they monitored me and Little Man. We were none too pleased to discover this since we thought by Friday night we would have a baby. Not so much.

It only got worse once I was "settled" in my room and the medical side of things started. Needles and I are not friends. IVs and I are mortal enemies. So needless to say when they stabbed me 6 times before they managed to get the IV in; I almost passed out. My mom told me later I was whiter than the pillow case. Then my sugar crashed because I hadn't eaten since 6 am ("something lite" like I was told, total bs, btw, eat as much as you want) and my system was used to snacking right about the time they decided to stab me.  By noon time they were just starting the medicine to get my cervix to dilate, since it wasn't doing it on its own. (duh) Little Man and I were continually monitored throughout the day.  At 2 pm I still hadn't been feed, and was being told that wouldn't happen until after I delivered. MANY HOURS LATER. (WTF?) When the Dr on rotation came in and told me that they might send me home to rest for a few days and "let things progress naturally" then bring me back, on MONDAY to try again; I had all I could do to not start swearing up a storm and crying like a little girl. They were so worried about the baby that they MADE me come in and be induced, but NOW it was ok to send me home?  At home who would monitor me, the baby, my sugar that was low, or my blood pressure that was continuing to climb? The nurse did her best to talk me into it, but she couldn't answer any of my concerns. Needless to say nothing more was said on the topic.  The new nurse ordered me food on the sly at 5pm.   VERY late Friday night I got feed again, again on the sly, because within the hour they would start the Pitocin to induce contractions.  By Saturday morning I still hadn't progressed much more. All day long on Saturday they pumped me with pitocin and monitored my sugar and blood pressure. Throughout the day they upped the pitocin dose until they finally maxed it out.  Late Saturday afternoon they broke my water which kicked the barely felt contractions into high gear. That in turn made my blood pressure soar. They put me on bed rest and the nurse highly encouraged me to get an epidural because my blood pressure just kept climbing. I had wanted as natural of a birth as possible. Granted, I hadn't completely ruled out the epidural, but to me it was a last resort. However, putting me on bed rest due to my blood pressure killed all the plans I had to walk, shower, or use the birthing ball to help the process along. So I went along with it, I mean, if I was going to be confined to bed, why should I suffer? F had just left to get something to eat, but he came running back to be there when they stuck me, IN MY SPINE. Yeah, a NEEDLE in my SPINE? SERIOUSLY? Thank God that stuff is fast acting. They put a skull monitor on Little Man and one inside me since I wasn't going anywhere and it would give a more accurate reading of his heart rate and my contractions. I still had to fight to be feed and was only allowed broth, and they were still talking about a vaginal delivery. At this point, a day and a half in with 2 sandwiches in my stomach and no real sleep to speak of, I was beyond that. I was tired, extremely hungry and knew there was no way I would have the strength for "4 to 6 hours of pushing, people do it all the time." WTF????  Yes, this wasn't the way I wanted to give birth. But NONE of what was happening was how I wanted to give birth. I probably could have done it, but I still knew that my body was not ready for a vaginal delivery.

Late Saturday night/ Early Sunday morning they stopped the pitocin to give my system a break. They started it up again about 3 hours later. For a total of 27 hours of pitocin. I think it was a record.  I was so incredibly bloated it was horrifying. I could have given the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man a run for his money.  During the night Saturday Little Man's heart rate went down a few times. Just before 7am Sunday morning I was still stuck  at being dilated 6cm  and 70% effaced.  It was at this point that they decided to do a C-Section. I was fully on board at this point. I just wanted to be done. Poor F had all of 15 minutes to pack up all our stuff so it could be moved to Recovery. He saw his son born while still in his slippers, pj pants and a t-shirt.  They stuck me AGAIN to have a "fresh IV line", so I had TWO flipping IVs in me for the next several hours. At 8:54am on Sunday they pulled my little baby boy out of me. And then stapled me back together, again WTF??? STAPLES???????????
So yes, I didn't really get to "deliver" or "have" my son. He was taken and then given to me. But damned if he's not the  most precious thing I know.
The next several days in the hospital were surreal.  Nurses, Doctors, Aides, all came and went. Little Man and I struggled to breast feed. He was so tiny and thin!! I felt like my huge boobs would crush him. Family came the same day. I fell asleep on more than one visitor. F and I were so spent. Hospitals are not known for their restfulness. Twice I sent F home to try and get some sleep in a real bed. It didn't really help.  
Finally we were released into the wild as a new little family unit. As we pulled out of the parking lot it hit us full force. We had a baby in the back seat!!! Holy crap, now what???? There wasn't going to be anyone checking on us every hour, no call button to bring immediate answers.
SHIT.
We were on our own. On our own with a little 6 pound 6 ounce person. There would be no leaving him in the car to run into grab a pizza. Those days were gone.
Do I wish it had all gone differently? Of course. Did the end justify the means? To a point. I will always believe things could have progressed on their own just fine if left alone. But when I look at Little Man and he smiles at me, I know I would do it all again.
He is the best gift God could ever have given us.

Baby Chicken Legs

Pinch Hitter

We are closing in on the end of the whole I'm PREGNANT phase and approaching the I'M A NEW MOM phase. And honestly, I am a little sad to see the end of the pregnancy. I've had a really good one with few problems and I'm not going to lie, I enjoy the special treatment. Who wouldn't? I get to sit and watch Ghost Hunters while F cleans the house? Um, YES PLEASE. I get to nap instead of doing laundry? Where's the pillow??? Seriously, I could really get used to the pampered lifestyle.
But I know it is coming to a close. And I am ready to meet this Little Man who loves to punch his mommy in her bladder making her stop in her tracks while the ringing vibration of the hit subsides. I am ready to be done with the swollen feet. The end of October and I am still wearing flip flops because it is the only thing that fits. I am also ready to be done hearing F say, "Well how can you TELL your feet are swollen??" When CLEARLY they are 4X their normal size and there are strap marks from your flip flops still cutting across your foot an hour after you've removed your shoes and propped your feet up. When the doctor looks at you at during your appointment and says, "So, how's the swelling?" as he hitches up  your pant leg to take a look at your "elephantinus" (Sailor Mouth's husband's assessment) ankles. And then proceeds to tell you that you better remove your wedding ring while you still can and put it on a chain to wear.  When I told F this new development that would require the purchase of a chain? "Just don't wear it."
Um, yeah. Cause the stigma of a pregnant lady without a ring is non-existent. I received no chain and have been "just not wearing it" and feel completely judged every time I go out. This brings us to the newest phase of being pregnant. The Birth Class phase. When I realized there were various classes offered I signed us up for as many as I dared before I thought F would start refusing to attend. F claims to not be a novice with this whole baby thing, but seriously, he so is. Some of his comments over the last 7 months has really made me wonder about his knowledge of the birthing process. It is minimal ya'll. We had our first class together this weekend. I was concerned about how he would take the 7.5 hours of birth Birth BIRTH!!!! But he did remarkably well. Half way through he said he was learning all manner of things. I was surprised but very glad that this was the case.  His interest began to wane at the end of the class when it was focused on making your baby momma more comfortable during labor. He was not pleased about being my pillow, but I did get a half hearted attempt at a back massage later that night, so something appeared to have sunk in.
What I'm finding "sunk in" was bits and pieces, not the full scheme of the "L&D" process.  I think we've discussed that  F is an engineer?  And hence has a VERY different thought process, very linear. When the instructor informed the class that at 35 weeks you are considered full term and can deliver safely anytime thereafter,  F heard "DELIVER ANYTIME, IMMEDIATELY." On the way home from picking up the crib mattress he queried as to how far, exactly, was I along?
"Just the start of 35 weeks."
"When do you start counting?"
"Well, on Wednesday I will be 35 weeks, 5 days."
"So the 35th week started.......?"
"Friday?"
"Yes, FRIDAY. So you could go into labor ANY MINUTE."
"Well, yes, I suppose."
"ANY DAY, ANY TIME!"
"Um, yeah?"
"We have to be ready, we HAVE TO GET THE CRIB!!!!"
"ooook."
When we got home he fixated on the crib and the need for it to be in the house RIGHT NOW.
This discussion brought me almost to tears because my feet were swollen, my back hurt, I'd just spent 7.5 hours in a class I really didn't need to attend and then was dragged to a sketchy Toys-R-Us to pick up the crib mattress. I was SPENT and just wanted to be done for the day.
We agreed that the next day we would go order the crib. Thankfully they had one in stock and there was no need to wait 6-8 weeks for delivery because I was due NOW NOW, ANYTIME NOW!!!!!
I thought after procuring said crib we'd moved on into safer, calmer waters of understanding.
I was wrong.
While at dinner at my mom's later that night the topic turned towards her readiness for the impending day and the need to put together her own hospital bag since I asked her to be part of my L&D team. And by "Team" I meant her, F and anyone with a medical background and a hospital ID badge. I made her a list as we discussed what she might need clothes wise F chimes in with, "You know, you really should line up some other (birthing) coaches. Like maybe call S_E_S."
"What?"
"Well, if labor really does last 20 hours (a factoid from class, 20 hours is the average from the very start to finish) then I'm going to need someone to relieve me."
My mom stopped mid task and stared at him.
My mouth was stopped from hitting the floor only because the kitchen table was in the way.
"WHAT?!" my mom and I said together.
"That's a long time, someone will need to relieve me."
"REALLY? And just WHO will I get to relieve ME and take over having the baby?"
"Well, no one."
"EXACTLY. If I have to be there the whole time, YOU have to be there
THE. WHOLE. TIME."
"Nuh nuh."
"Yuh Huh."

Yep, complete and total understanding.

I Am Not Sucking On Sugar Cubes

So, I know in the last post I said I was going to try and avoid making this an ALL BABY ALL THE TIME type Blog. I realize however that being pregnant is currently apart of my daily life, and therefore will need discussing. So forgive me if my snark has temporarily left the building. Right now I am just irritated, and I need to vent.
 Way back in the very beginning of my pregnancy they decided because of my age and my weight that I would get to be lucky and be tested for Gestational Diabetes way before normal testing would take place. I'm talking week 8 instead of week like 30. And guess what people? I FAILED.  Monitoring started and diet change started and my life with pasta ended as I know it because no matter how hard I tried I just could not stay within the levels they wanted me to.  I cried, no, let me be honest, I LOST MY SHIT and BALLED HYSTERICALLY when the nutritionist informed me that the Dr would most likely put me on insulin. I could barely speak when I called F. He promptly sent me home. I promptly went to my mother's and cried some more. My boss, I'm sure, thought someone had died because I DO NOT CRY and again, I was crying to the point that I could not speak properly. She agreed that I needed to go home. Why did this news hit me so hard?  So many things. So. Many. Things. And this was just the one thing I was really hoping to avoid. I'd had enough with the needles and drugs getting Little Man that I really thought I was all done with it. And here this not very motherly older lady was telling me that I had a good SIX MORE MONTHS of needles and poking myself.  Straw, meet the Camel's back.
I inform them weekly of my glucose levels which I take 4 times a day.  And again, no matter how hard I tried, I still was not getting the levels where they needed to be.  Each week my dose would increase. I've had a few weeks here and there when I would be allowed to maintain the same dose. I cannot express to you the joy this would bring me.  Today however, I was, I felt, scolded. I felt the nurse was "What is your problem? Why can't you get this under control?" type attitude as she sucked on her soft drink. I could hear the straw squeaking  and the ice rattling through the phone. I get this nurse on occasion, and I DO NOT LIKE HER.  "Well I just don't know, Did you eat a snack before bed? You know, Did you take this at a different time of day because you SLEPT IN?"
Yes, I eat my snack before bed. But she never actually waits for me to answer these questions.  And NO I did not sleep in. 5 out of those 7 days I WORK, so sleeping in is not possible. Plus, I don't know, I'm PREGNANT and everyone knows pregnant women get up to pee A LOT. My body is so condition to wake to pee it is chart-able. And if I did manage to attempt to sleep in Puppy would not be havin it! She needs to pee too. She also questions the manner in which I report my levels. The App I have on my phone lists the dates from most recent to which ever previous date you tell it. And she complains EVERY SINGLE TIME that she read it wrong because of how I reported it.  Seriously? How about you, I don't know ACTUALLY READ what is written? This is MEDICALLY important information, maybe SCANNING it isn't the right way to do it? Ya' Know?
I am stressed out enough as it is about the whole Gestational Diabetes thing, I don't need your judgement on top of it. I've been considering asking my Dr's office to please not have her call me back, but I really don't know if it is worth it.
Speaking of stressing out, did I tell you, my digital friends, that Mrs Mannerless cornered me in my office and questioned me about my sugar test? Yes, she did. Then she proceeded to tell me, as she whipped out her phone to check dates, that, "Oh, they'll start talking to you about being induced in October."
Oh? I was unaware that you had a medical degree.
"Did I tell you the EXTREMELY funny story about the dream I had before I went in to labor?"
Please dear Lord, NO.
 I'll save you from the details, but it wasn't really all that funny, it was actually, disturbing. As was  her LABOR STORY. I need to bleach my brain just thinking about it.
"If you want to hear a good labor story come talk to me!!!  Don't go to the other two ladies [who have birth around the same time], they have HORROR stories! Come see me!"
Luckily she only gave me an overview of her labor and delivery story. I continue to try and avoid her. At least once a week one of my co-workers tells me "She is CRAZY!"
Yes, I know, in more detail then I think you'd like to know.

Sugar levels, disagreement on names, which freaking car seat out of A MILLION we should choose, can I handle sewing curtains for the nursery, which crib will I finally decide on, will the nursery be ready in, all of the out-laws possibly coming to visit while I am in my ninth month, who will watch said baby once he arrives; these are just a FEW of the things on my mind.
And I can't even indulge in a Dunkin Donuts Vanilla Chi Latte to give me a small moment of peace.
How is that fair?

BIG REVEAL

F and I hosted a party at the very beginning of my 13th week to semi-announce this little darling. Most people completely and utterly missed the cues, which was ok, because to see the dawning of understanding on their faces once it was pointed out was quite priceless.  Later that evening I posted on Face Book that we are expecting. I kept it short and sweet, once sentence, where as F wanted a flipping novel about how we are "expecting our first child." I nixed that for my posting, but kindly told him if he would like to put that type of announcement on his page he of course was more than welcome to do so. He declined.

Their are a few of my co-workers with whom I am "friends" on FB who did not come to our little party. They were all a twitter with the news and in hushed tones grouped together to discuss how I had so expertly pulled the proverbial wool over everyone's eyes. It has been quietly making its way around the office. Some people I have gone up to and personally told; others, ie Mrs Nosey,  and Mrs. Mannerless have been purposely left out. If someone else tells them, then fine, but they shall not hear it directly from my lips. Neither of them have approached me up to this point, and I am quite fine with it. Our big office meeting is happening this week and Boss has asked if she can announce it. I gave her the go ahead because I was quite happy with keeping it low key and allowing it to make its way around the grape vine on its own, but am also fine with something "official" being said, and I know she won't make a big show of it. Or maybe she will. I don't know. I hope not. Anyway, I will be quite delighted to see the reaction of those not in the know.
I am not, however looking forward to Mrs. Mannerless chatting me up about pregnancy. I cannot ever forgive nor forget her complete and utter selfishness concerning her office baby shower.  I ALSO have a pregnancy buddy in the office and she is quite a delight and I would be most happy to share the spot light with her. We are due almost two months apart, so I don't know if that will happen or not, but I am fine if it does!!

December Will Have More Than One Joyous Birth

I promise this isn't the actual stick. I had a blood test.
This is a picture of someone else's pee stick from the internet.

Spoon Me

F and I have joined Weight Watchers.  I am more points conscious than he is. He hasn’t logged a point since we’ve started and he’s lost 4.6lbs. I have logged like crazy and have lost a mere 2.4lbs.  I know men lose faster than women do, but seriously, twice as much? And without doing any of the work? So not fair.  Anyway, we signed up for the E-Tools because it has an App feature. I think it sucks, but whatever.  I was logging some cake and noticed the “cheat sheet” icon. So I clicked on it for the Mexican Fiesta! Who doesn’t love a good Mexican Fiesta? Exactly.  I am reading the tips they give; stay away from the chips, get veggies, skip the margarita(HA!), get the smaller size, etc. When I read one tip and said to myself, REALLY? FUCKING REALLY?? WHO WOULD DO THAT???

“Speak up if you have special requests. Ask for salsa or pico de gallo instead of an oily salad dressing or cheese sauce. Order your fajitas with only one tortilla so you can save PointsPlus values and enjoy the rest of the filling on its own. Find out if they can bring sour cream and guacamole out on teaspoons instead of in a bowl or cup. All these little changes together will save you a lot of fat and calories.”

On teaspoons. TEASPOONS. I can just imagine the reaction of the server. “Teaspoons? You want teaspoons?”

“Yes, of sour cream.”

“What?”

If someone has done this I would really like to know because that just blows my mind

“Excuse me! Yes, I’m ready for my next teaspoon of sour cream please!”

How about using just a knife’s worth of sour cream instead of slopping it on? That is a more reasonable to do tip, don’t you think?

What is the craziest thing you have requested when ordering your food? Did you have a “When Harry Met Sally” moment?

Check the box, Wait; No, Sign Here; Wait, No, Initial Here that You Checked The Box

The place I work is a smaller part of a larger company, separate; but equal. So we piggyback onto their insurance for greater bargaining power. In an effort to cut health insurance costs, they are checking to make sure the people who are using their insurance really deserve to be using their insurance. Completely understandable. I am one of those people, so I received the paperwork to fill out concerning F’s eligibility. There are several choices of documentation you can supply in order to verify that you are married or living together (i.e. living in sin) (totally did that.). The very first choice given is a copy of your Federal Tax Return. How much easier do you want it? Tax season just ended a few months ago, so this paper work should be extremely easy to locate, right? Right.


You can also supply a combination of various other documents. Like your marriage license and a mortgage statement with both your names on it. Or your marriage license and some bill with both your names on it. These last few choices would not work for us because both our names are not on any bills (who does this?) and we each have our own mortgage (my house, his “our” house). So you can see why I opted for the ease of the tax return. Of course this is proving to be a bit trickier because we filed electronically and they want the electronic tax filing number thingie which I am having trouble locating, but that isn’t the reason I’m writing this. I got the paperwork the last week of June with a deadline of August 13th. An entire MONTH to hunt up and mail your tax return. Simple, right? Apparently for the highly educated people in the company this is proving to be too stressful and too tight of a time constraint. Something I gathered from the e-mail the H.R. department just sent out.

Seriously people, an entire month isn’t enough time??? Unbelievable.

Dear [Employees],

We have received numerous concerns and questions regarding the time-line of the dependent eligibility verification project, listening and understanding your concerns we have made the decision to extend the deadline to submit documents until Friday, September 15, 2011. Your documents must be postmarked or received by [Random Consultant Firm] by Friday September 15, 2011.


As discussed in our earlier announcement, this verification is a part of our ongoing effort to control health care costs by ensuring that only eligible dependents are covered under our medical plans. [Random Consultant Firm], an independent firm, has been authorized to obtain your documentation.

By now, you should have received your initial packet containing detailed instructions. Also, we have been notified of long wait times when calling the Customer Service Call Center. [Random Consultant Firm] has acknowledged and is in the process of rectifying this problem. Please continue to communicate any problems that you are experiencing with the Customer Service Call Center to the [Employer] Benefits Office.

In addition, we have received concerns regarding the submission of your personal information to [Random Consultant Firm] please know that protecting your personal information is of grave importance to [Employer] and [Random Consultant Firm]. [Random Consultant Firm] has assured us that all documents provided during the dependent eligibility verification will be securely stored and protected through physical, electronic and procedural safeguards. In an effort to communicate the confidentiality safeguards that [Random Consultant Firm] has in place they have provided us with a frequently asked security questions document, which is posted on the benefits website, please click on the following click to access the document http://www.[redacted]/Forms/dependenteligibilityverificationfaqs.pdf

We understand the time and effort that it takes to locate the appropriate documentation (your just filed tax return) and we appreciate your cooperation with this verification project. Should you any questions regarding this process, please contact the Customer Service Call Center at (redacted) redacted.

Again, your documentation has to be postmarked or received by [Random Consultant Firm] by the extended due date of Friday, September 15, 2011.


Sincerely,

Director of Benefit Programs



So now, TWO and HALF months to send this stuff in. I do have to say, I called the company about locating the e-file tax number and if it would be ok to send in the confirmation e-mails I got, THREE days ago and no one has gotten back to me. EVEN THOUGH their message says that if you leave a voice mail they will return your call by the end of business the next day. Again, that was THREE days ago. So this company? SUCKS. I am at the point now where I am going to send it in with a note saying, um, yeah, I called you guys for answers and no one called me back, so here ya go. DEAL.

I may be writing you later this fall to tell you F is no longer covered under my insurance, but at least I’ll feel like I made a point. Maybe.

***They just called me. Fricking ridiculous!!! I have to fill in his SS# even though, EVEN THOUGH it is on the Tax form, which she then tells me the first 5 digits should be blacked out. Um, then I need to supply it to you again anyway?
"Yes, so we know the information came from you."
I, what??? I did the taxes so that information came from me. Seriously, who puts these things into practice??? It makes no sense.*****

Minus The Ears

 I went and was fitted for my elephant face, minus the ears of course.  I was a few minutes early to my fitting appointment with David, my own personal on-call-but-please-don't-call-me support tech. I was willing to wait, especially after he made this proclamation to me: "Sorry if my breath smells weird, I just had shrimp for lunch." And oddly enough, I could smell that fishy smell the minute I walked in. So glad to have it explained away. I would have waited for him to get a mint to make it GO AWAY though.  David was very careful to tell me he'd sanitized his hands before he began touching my elephant trunk and nose. Of course I'm not sure that really helped after he said to me: "Sorry about the sniffling, my allergies are really bothering me."

This kid was a barrel of one liners. He was visibly and verbally surprised by my proficiency in placing the nose contraption on my head; "WOW. Most people don't figure it out right away."  Ummm, maybe you need to review the patient/tech privacy handbook there David.

There was a ton of paper work to be filled out, and David ASSURED me that he would call me within "48 to 72 hours to see how you are doing."  It has been over a week now and David has not called to check up on me, or to fill me in on the re-ordering process for the gel nose piece and it's cover. Guess I'll have to do the calling myself.

Anyhoodle, is what I came home with:

The face mask AKA the elephant nose and trunk



The "Machine"



The full contraption, assembled and ready to go



"So Comfortable...You might forget you're wearing it"
 TOTAL LIE.

I forgot to take a picture of the Sporty carrying bag. I'll have to take it out of the closet and snap a pic for ya'll.

Just Call Me Babar

I hadn't heard from either my Dr's office or the Sleep Clinic in two weeks, so I called my Dr. They had my results, but were unable to open them, computer related crap, blah blah blah, we'll get back to you.  A few days pass, and they call with the results, SEVERE sleep apnea. And I can tell you it must be VERY severe because the nurse who called paused and then STRESSED the word SEVERE. I think she even said it a few times. For effect. So basically, yeah, I'm close to death when I sleep from lack of breathing. SWEET.

Not an hour later, the sleep clinic was calling to make sure they get my Medically Insured Reimbursed business. I go in the next few days for my training and to pick up my C-PAP machine with its ""very convent and sporty duffel bag for easy transportation."

 YES. SPORTY.  What more can a girl ask for??

The Elephant.....





And it's trunk



And the Nose

This thing can have its own PILLOW??? Oh brother.



Am I wrong here people???



Do you see it? I'll look like I'm wearing an ELEPHANT'S FACE




Forced Air Breathing

Sleep study is done. Surprise! I have Sleep Apnea. I haven't gotten the full diagnosis from my actual doctor, but the Sleep Tech was rather impressed with my lack of breathing.
It took a good hour to fill out all the paper work and for my Sleep Tech to attached all the electrodes to my head. When she was done I kind of looked like the Queen Borg with all the wires coming off my head.

I of course still had my hair

I was completely exhausted when I arrived at the sleep clinic, and so of course I assumed I would have no problem falling asleep in the nice big bed I was going to have all to myself, in the nice dark and quiet room I would also have all to myself. Yeah, not so much. The mass of wires attached to not only my head, but my face and legs as well, was less than easy to sleep with. There was a nose piece in my nose that had another piece hanging from in case I began breathing through my mouth. It kept stabbing my upper lip. The tangling and rolling over and the leds poking me in my face, not so comfortable. I think I finally managed to fall a sleep around midnight only to wake up and become horribly antsy at 1 am.  My legs were spazing out. I couldn't get comfortable, I was about to freak the hell out when I decided it might help if I went to the bathroom.  That of course was no small task. And something I needed help doing.  I lay still in the dark room and timidly called out to my Sleep Tech, "Hello????"
Over the intercom she answers, "Do you need to use the restroom?"
"yes" I responded feeling foolish.
She came to my room and unhooked the mass of wires from the main thing they were plugged into, and slung the mini board around my neck.  Going to the restroom? Not at all graceful. I had wires down my sleep shorts which were connected to my legs, I had all the others from my head and face slung around my neck and an oxygen monitor on one of my fingers. AWK.WARD.
I shuffled back into the room where the Sleep Tech was waiting for me. "I'm going to put the C-PAP mask on you now."

His is too big for his face, but yeah

The head straps there went under all the wires that were coming out of my head.  It forces air in. Making it harder for you to stop breathing.  I thought I might need the full face mask:



This one covers your nose AND your mouth, talk about Darth Vader

 Did I mention that I had taken a sleeping pill after the Sleep Tech tucked me in the first time? Well I did. And then a mere 4 hrs later I took another half of a sleeping pill.  If was after that half that sleep FINALLY over took me. I was zonked out. At 6 AM my Sleep Tech came woke me via intercom. I was so incredibly out of it, I had to use  my GPS to drive to my mom's. A route I take on a DAILY BASIS.  My plan was to maybe nap for an hour or so and then get ready for work. I slept really hard for 2 hours. When I emerged from my old bedroom my mom looked at me and proclaimed, "You look SO MUCH better than when you got here!!!"
Thanks mom.
So, talk about sexy eh?? You know you want one of these too!

Well at least after I get this contraption F and I can sleep in the same room again. ALL NIGHT instead of just part of the night.

YAY BABY.

Sandman VS Darth Vader Mask

F complains about my snoring. He says it has gotten worse in the last year. In the last few months it has become common place for him to stumble off to the guest bedroom to sleep. Needless to say, I try and keep that bed made up, j.i.c. I haven’t been sleeping well either. I chalked this up to the fact that I was trying not to disturb him, and hence became a light sleeper. On my annual visit to my Dr., she asked if I needed any refills on any of the meds from last year. I told her the one that was suppose to make me sleep didn’t work (it was for depression, um, no), she gave me an actual sleeping pill. But first she asked me one simple question, “Does he say you ever quit breathing while asleep?” I looked at her dumbfounded. This had never occurred to me. And F had never mentioned it. When I got home that evening, I asked him, “Oh Yeah. ALL. THE. TIME.”


Seriously??? I quit breathing ALL. THE. TIME. And he NEVER mentions it??

“Well, it’s more like a; pause.”

DUDE. Not cool.

The Dr. signed me up for an at home sleep study. I received one of those oxygen nose pieces, which attached to a beeper looking thing. I popped one of my new found sleeping pills (SWEET) and proceeded to sleep. A few times the nose piece came out of one side of my nose, but if I woke up, I just shoved it back in and went back to sleep. I turned it in the next day. The following day; a Friday, the sleep center called me, to set up an onsite appointment. I didn’t call them back right away. Then my Dr.’s office called. I didn’t call them back either. The weekend passed and I slept pretty crappily, as did F. Monday morning, my Dr.’s office called me AGAIN to tell me I needed to make an appointment, ASAP. Apparently the data collected said I pretty much didn’t breath at all during the night, go figure. I did tell the lady who collected the little sleeper beeper that I tend to sleep with my mouth open, and so I think that might be part of the issue. I could be wrong. Anyway, the same lady cheerfully told me that they had a cancellation for THAT NIGHT and could I make it. Stunned, I agreed. I packed up my 2 piece sleep gear (t-shirt and shorts), my “portable” CD player and headphones with fresh batteries, my pillow; the Dr. prescribed sleep pills, and a fan, just in case it got too hot in there. From 9PM to 5 freaking 30 AM the next morning, I would be trapped in a “room” away from home.

How do they really expect anyone to really sleep during these things anyway? Telling me I HAVE TO SLEEP is like telling me I can’t have a cookie, or something to drink, because then you just know you HAVE TO HAVE IT. I guess I mean, this means I won’t sleep because I HAVE TO SLEEP. And the lady said my Dr. ordered 2 tests to be done, but most times things don’t work out that way, so people end up having to go back for the second half.

Excellent.

I Am So Easily Tortured

I hate needles. I hate getting shots. I hate getting blood taken.
Therefore, when the barely legal lab tech says to me: "Which arm do they use when they take your blood?"
Me: "The right."
B.L. Lab Tech: "Hmmm. Do they have an easy time?"
Me: "Yes." as my arm yelps in pain from the tourniquet.
B.L. Lab Tech: "Do they ever use your left arm?"
Me: *start to panic* "Some times. But they usually use the right arm."

B.L. Lab Tech keeps pressing on my veins in my right arm. I try to breath deeply so I don't freak the hell out.

B.L. Lab Tech: "So they use the right and have an easy time of it?"
Me: "Yes." my right arm is screaming in protest now from the tourniquet. I think my skin started to separate at the contact point.

B.L. Lab Tech: "Well, I can feel two veins here, I just don't know which one to use! *giggles*
Me: *hyper ventilating* "Really???!!!"  I restrain from yelling at another nurse to come save me as she passes by in the hall.

B.L. Lab Tech: "Well, I guess we'll try this one."

Sweet Jesus, did she just say GUESS and TRY when talking about needles and veins?!?!!
I close my eyes tightly, because you know if you can't see it happening, it isn't happening, as she finally sticks the needle in my arm.
B.L. Lab Tech: "Got it!" (i think she sounded surprised.)
Me: *moments from clawing my way out of the chair* "Oh, good."
My right arm cries out in relief as she unties the tourniquet.

As much as I like to think I can Jack Bauer my way through torture, I'd never last a second if they brought out the needles.

Slow Spiral

For several months now I’ve been feeling down. I’m having a hard time finding anything to be happy about, or that I like. It started by hating my hair. Well, actually, it probably started before that. Back when, well, we found out some not so good news. My spiral started then. I’ve been wrestling with what, if anything I wanted to share here. One day, when the bad news was more than I could take, I started an entry, of sorts, that bullet pointed my experiences and feelings. I’m still not ready to share, here. Yet. But, having put it down, having it out of my head so to speak, I’m able to concentrate. I’ve been adding bullets as things happen.

Today, though, today, I just, *sigh* I just need to vent, maybe? Get things out so I can start moving past them. So please bear with me and my pity party of one.

Yes, I still hate my hair. Even though I realize that it is just not my hair, it is what my hair is sitting on top of. My head? Well yes, in a board sense, but more, my FACE. I hate my face right now. More specifically I hate how fat it is. I pass by a mirror and am shocked, Who’s the piggy? Who’s the old angry Polish woman? (I’m polish, so I can be stereotypical about my own people, right?) My double chin is double what it used to be. My skin looks horrid. Spots, break outs, wrinkles, plain old dull. My upper arms are doughy and soft, and BIG. I don’t think I’ve had wrists since I’ve meet F. I have the wrist version of cankles. Frists? I don’t know. My stomach. Lord. The bulge. The MOUND of fat. Thunder thighs? Check and check. CANKLES, sweet heaven above, I have cankles. And sausage fingers. I have fat people fingers.

My sugar is up, as is well, EVERYTHING that should be down.

I know, eat less, and move more. It is all under my control. I GET IT. And I have been trying, but I haven’t been trying as much as I should. And the weird thing? The weird thing is, is that food doesn’t sound good to me anymore, so I hardly eat, but I’m not really losing weight. Sometimes I’m not even hungry. Sometimes, the mere mention of a certain food makes me gag. Sometimes it is the smell. The other night F made chicken and I swore it smelled like fish. I could barely bring myself to eat it. Other times I get so hungry I get ill. Everything is, OFF, and I’m at a loss as to how to correct it. There are days when getting out of bed is such a challenge. If I could just sleep for a few more hours, everything would be fine. Socializing? Who wants to be bothered with that? It is too much work.

I see, I know what it is, DEPRESSION. I’ve had bouts of it before, who hasn’t? But I’ve always managed to pull myself out of it. I’ve always managed to put it behind me and move on. Nowadays I feel like I’m treading water, I’m not going anywhere. And it all starts all over again, the spiral. The sleeplessness, the over tiredness, the flat out apathy of everyday, day after day. I’m boxed in and I don’t know how to get out.

If just, IF JUST……yes, IF JUST….then it would all be better, maybe. Right? MAYBE.

*sigh*

Order UP!!

Last night 7 PM: F arrives home after going grocery shopping by himself. He sets the bag on the counter and goes about his business.

10 PM: I follow him to bed.

8AM THIS MORNING: F calls me from work: "Hey, did you put away that meat I bought last night?"

Me: "I didn't know you bought any meat."

F: "So, that means it is still sitting out on the counter?"

Me: "Uh, yeah, if you didn't put it away."

F: "Can you turn around and go back to the house to put it away?"

Me: "After it sat out OVER NIGHT????!!!!"

F: "Yeah, it'll be fine."

Me: "Are you sure??? I don't think it will still be good."

F: "Yes, please, go put it away."

Me: "ok."

Needless to say, I won't be having a deli sandwich any time soon for lunch. uh, gag. That is just asking to get sick. Not that it was overtly warm or hot in our house, but the temp didn't drop below 72 all night. I'm making myself sick visualizing all the germs and slimy things on that meat now.

*shiver*

DH Had Her Groove Stolen

So I've started the Zumba! class at the REC center.  Although I sweated my ASS off, I am extremely HORRIFIED to discover that the fabulous booty shakin groove I've had ALL MY LIFE has apparently disappeared. Yes, gone. Gone baby GONE. The only thing I could chalk it up to, Aerobics. Aerobics stole my groove. Aerobics is stiff? I guess you'd say. Where as Aerobics is all LEFT. RIGHT. FRONT. BACK. Zumba! is more LEFT......SWISH!.......RIGHT.......WRIGGLE!....FRONT.....DIP!!!.....DIP!!!!!!!!!!..... BACK....CHA CHA!!!!.....WAVE THOSE HANDS IN THE AIR LIKE YOU JUST DON'T CARE!!!!....SWISH! DIP! WRIGGLE!!! HOP!!! I mean seriously, not to boast too much here, but I used to be quite the hip grinding dance freak at Ladies' Night!!! at the local hot spot during college. Now? my hips were all, "DUDE! What the EFF??? That kinda HURTS!"  I've lost my ability to swish my hips. There were moments where it would dawn on me that I needed to feel the music and stop trying so hard to get the steps right, and that did help, a little, until I found myself on the wrong foot, facing the wrong way, shakin my booty when I was suppose to be tapping my heel. I realize this was only the first class, and that by the time it is over, I should be doing better. I HOPE! Seriously, I HAVE TO get my groove back!
When I got home F wanted to know how it went.

"Well, I've lost my groove."
"You had a groove??"
*evil eye* "Yes!"
"Riiight."

I'm not lookin to get the kind of groove back that would land me Ty Diggs, although, BOY HOWDY that would be an AWESOME groove to have, just the kind of groove where I wouldn't get laughed at on the dance floor during ladies night at the local watering hole. Is that so much to ask?


Oh, and to the ONE guy that was in the class with his, girlfriend(?), that fart you ripped was nasty, and she had every right to be holy embarrassed by it, and to laugh at you. Seriously, GROSS.

My New Love

I always thought that Nachos piled with cheese, drowning in sour cream was the best PMS crave food I could get. With maybe a side of cheese bread. Salty, sweet, and greasy, YUM. I never really felt satisfied though. All the heart clogging goodness could never really satisfy that deep down primal hunger.


Last night though, my PMS induced yearning was satisfied in a manner which I never thought possible. The longing was INSTANTIOUSLY quelled when The Outback Steakhouse server brought me their Aussie Cheese Fries.  SWEET HEAVEN on a plate!!!

 Aussie Cheese Fries

Aussie Fries topped with melted Monterey Jack, Cheddar,

bits of fresh chopped bacon and served with a spicy

ranch dressing. Regular 7.95 Small 5.95

That spicy ranch dressing? OMG. I can't even explain. I almost licked the dipping bowl clean. I never thought my PMS cravings would ever truly be met. But I am telling you my digital sisters, RUN out and get yourself an order. I think I even moaned when I took my first bite. They were the prefect portions of salty, sweet, gooey and greasy.

F and I got the small order, which was a good thing because lord knows we made quick work of those fries.

Yes, my new go to stress food, my new down under love, AUSSIE CHEESE FRIES.

Is it wrong to love a food in this manner?????

If it is, I don't want to be right!!!

500+ 1

OMG my digital friends, I've hit the 500 entries mark!!! This entry here will be 501!! Like the Levi's only better!


OK. Maybe not.

I'll just give you a good little giggle for the day.


F called me: "Hey, I need the number for the dentist, Dr. ABC."

Me: "Um, ok. Hang on a sec. What do you need it for?" ( I asked thinking he has broken a tooth or something since I can hear male voices in the background*very important to note*. Who wouldn't gather around for a good tooth chipping, hmmmm?)

F: "A referral."

Now mind you, when F calls me during the day while I'm at work, I sometimes have to pull my mind from focusing on my work, to do whatever it is he's asking me to do. Sometimes, my mental work fog doesn't always lift as fast as it should, or could, and lord knows I often hang up with him and think; Wait. What did I just agree to?

This phone call was one of those times.



Me: "Ok, 123-4567."

F: "123-4567. Are you sure?"

Me: "Yes.............WAIT!!! No no *giggle* that would have been pretty funny. That's the GYNOCOLOGIST'S number!!!"

F: "OMG."

Me: "Here 789-1011.hehehee”


In my defense, our dentist's name is the SAME as my soon to be former Gyno's name.

The Battle Rages On

I've told you recently of the battles my face is waging against me. It does not rest. It does not quit. It marches on across my face.  Last week, it was my chin.That was but a small skirmish, and cleared up quickly.  The mound from this post has dug in and refuses to leave.  It appears to have left a small force behind to maintain the fort, but has moved the mass of the troops to a new locale. The troops marched around the southern half of my nose to settle on the RIGHT side where my nostril flares out and meets my face. I continue to battle, alas half heartedly, against this unrelenting injustice. I purchased a new bottle of foundation fearing that the Old Foundation, and I DO mean old, at least 6 years(yes i know, but i RARELY use foundation), was a double agent and was supplying arms to the enemy. This tactic seemed to work for a few days, but either the enemy has turned New Foundation against me, or I executed an innocent old friend for desertion wrongly. I noticed New Foundation feels less greasy, which is a plus. I believe however this tactic was used to lull me as it went about escalating the number of creases and lines under my eyes. New Foundation is clearly working for the enemy.


I am losing the war my digital friends. I need reinforcements and potentially new supplies.

Can the U.D.N. (United Digital Nations) help their battle weary Blogger out? Supplies? Tested and True battle plans? ANYTHING??????

S.O.S!!!!!!