Dear Future Self,
I imagine that you could be reading this post because you're feeling nostalgic and want to see just how much has changed between now and whenever you're reading this. OR, you could be desperately searching for answers on what was different during these first few days of potty training so you can figure out how the heck to get this kid to use the potty consistently. Well. No answers here, so don't waste your time. But you knew this wasn't going to be easy and the fact that it started off well should have been a huge indication that it wasn't going to end well. Am I right? Are you nodding your head while wiping away the tears of defeat? How many pairs of soggy toddler underwear did you wash today? Now how many glasses of wine have you consumed/will you consume today? Just remember- she's stubborn, strong-willed, and determined to be right. Just like you... so put those Pampers back on her adorable little butt and start again some other time. Days 2-5 were a fluke.
Love,
July 18th Self.
No, really. I don't get this lucky... it has to be a fluke. Once the baby/toddler realizes that it's not really fun to use the potty, she'll go right back to pissing whenever and wherever she wants. I'm just waiting for that to happen, but silently praying that, for once, I got lucky. Ok, ok. Not "for once." She's such a fantastic, smart, and amazing little child and I'm certainly lucky to have her. Shoot... if I really think about it, she's been pretty easy-going in a lot of ways- I was terrified of the bottle weaning, and she handled it like a champ, extremely nervous about transitioning to the toddler bed, and she only got out of bed repeatedly for one night, and only once the night after that, and she goes to bed pretty darned well for a 2-year-old. And by that, I mean that she "sleep stalls" a little... while we pick out books, she tries to keep picking more. On the way out of her playroom after picking books, she has to touch and try to play with every toy she passes. Then she wants to wander into the living room. Reading most of her books just once is not enough. After the books are read, she sits in her bed but doesn't want to lie down right away. Then she wants just one more song. ABCD! Rockabye Baby! Oh, and kisses! Because she knows I can't resist those.
Anyways.
Potty training day 1 was an unexpected success. I figured day 2 would be worse but... nope. She did great again- just one accident when she peed in her pants while playing. She was overdue for a poo, and I knew she had to go. Since she had been hiding in her new tent to poop in her diaper prior to potty training, I had a stroke of genius (I thought it was such a stupid idea at the time but I was determined to not clean poop out of a pair of underwear if at all possible) and moved her potty chair into her tent. She sat down, and pooed. It was amazing. What wasn't amazing was when we came back to get her potty chair after going into the bathroom to wipe her bum and found the dog emptying the poo from the potty. OMG gross. Gross gross gross. Bleh. (we'll reminisce on that one day. "Remember when the dog ate the baby's poo out of her potty chair?" *sigh*)
Day 3- we had plans for a play date at an indoor play place, so I figured putting her in underwear would be a terrible idea and so I slapped a diaper on her little bum. She pooed almost immediately, and I figured she took the opportunity because she's much more comfortable doing it that way. When we got home, I put her on the potty before her nap and... surprise! She pooed on the potty. I couldn't believe it. She had one pee in her panties, but the rest of it landed in the potty. Whew.
Day 4- her first poopy pants. What a mess... I read that you're supposed to empty the poo into the potty to remind her that it's where her poo is supposed to go. After getting poo on the back of the potty seat, on the floor, on my hand, and all over her underwear, I realized that this was not a good idea. She was probably snickering on the inside while watching me fumble with her soiled underwear. In my mind, I was begging her to not touch the poo. For the love of God DO NOT TOUCH THE POO. This was also the day that she decided to test my parenting skills big time by running away from me every time I tried to put her panties and shorts back on her. I tried sitting her in the corner, wrangling her, using my stern voice, and using telekinesis but nothing was working. Finally, I wised up and brought out my phone. I sat on the stool in the bathroom and surfed the internet and told her we could go play when she was ready to put on her shorts. She would come over to me and ask for her shorts, then run away again and laugh. I'd shrug my shoulders and return to internet surfing. She then came over and tried to look at my phone, and asked to watch videos of herself (OMG she's so vain) but I told her we would do that in her play room after she put her shorts on. A few minutes later, she asked for her shorts and very obediently allowed me to put them on her. Score one for mommy... I still have more willpower than a 2-year-old. Her poopy pants ended up being her only accident of the day.
Day 5 (today)- her first real trip outside of the house without a diaper on. I dropped her off with my parents, which is an hour drive from my house. In my mind, I weighed the pros and cons of diaper butt vs. panties. I ended up thinking screw it, it's better to see what happens now instead of chancing it after I go back to work. So I put her in her Bubble Guppy panties with a vinyl cover under her shorts, and sat her on a hand towel in her car seat. When we got to my parents' house, her shorts were a little wet. I picked her up, and apparently her shorts were wet enough to get pee on my shirt. Awesome. I spent a whole day with secret pee on my shirt. Oh yea- and my cami under my tank top had a secret makeup stain on it because Emma decided to grab my (open) foundation bottle off the counter and whip it around, causing liquid foundation to splatter on the wall, the mat, the cabinets, the baby, and the mommy. I figured it would be hidden under my tank top, so I did the awesome mom thing and let it ride. It was my little secret- I had pee and makeup on my clothes and no one knew. Anyways. She had actually put what appeared to be a full bladder's worth of pee into her underwear during the car ride, and the vinyl cover did its job for the most part and kept the majority of it inside. That was her one and only accident of the day. Before we left the house this morning, she was sitting on the potty and asked me to put "potty in tent!" so I figured she needed to poo. I held up a towel to give her some privacy without me having to leave the bathroom and... plop plop plop. Worked like a charm. So no poopy pants today, and she went potty like a big girl at my parents' house all day. She even woke up from her nap with a dry diaper (we're still diapering during naps and at bedtime).
So that's that. Is my child potty trained? Nope. She's not. I make it a point to put her on the potty every 30-45 minutes. If I ask her if she needs to go, her answer is always "nnnnoooooo" but she'll end up peeing on the potty anyways. She has never told me that she needs to go. And I think it'll be awhile before she gets to that point... but I'm not turning back now. My wallet will very much appreciate not having to buy 150+ diapers every month on top of the overnight diapers. So... whatevs. I'll be a slave to the clock and remembering to announce "it's potty time" a hundred times a day. I'm sure it'll get old, and I'm sure she'll one day decide that using the potty is for losers and get all "Billy Madison" on us and think it's cool to pee her pants. And then I'll come to read this blog post, and convince myself that I'm wrong and that there's something different I could/should do to get this kid to be potty trained. Because that's how I do.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Monday, July 14, 2014
Potty Training Day 1
I haven't quite figured out if it's normal to feel emotional when potty training your one-and-only child, or if it's these darned post-hysterectomy hormones that are messing with my feelings. But today felt bittersweet. Bitter because my sweet Emma took yet another big step towards preschoolerdom and away from babyhood. And sweet because the end of buying diapers is approaching.
The pediatrician gave us the go-ahead to start potty training when Emma was 18 months old, because her verbal skills were advanced and she seemed to be pretty aware of things in general. I didn't quite feel she was ready at that point, but started the conversation with Emma. This is why she happily shouts "Yay mommy!!" every time a toilet flushes. I figured she needed to know that going to the potty is a good thing. As time went on, I realized that the only way she was going to start using the potty was for her to become uncomfortable doing it any other way. You see, she couldn't care less if her diaper is wet or poopy. It doesn't bother her one bit. That's probably my fault- we invested in high-quality diapers that keep her bum dry even when they've soaked up a grapefruit-sized amount of urine. But I have no explanation as to why she's not bothered by a poopy diaper... that kid. We've found some "stealth poops" far too often, where she poops and carries on like nothing happened. If we miss the squatting and grunting, she runs around in a poopy diaper for God knows how long. Especially if it's not a stinky one... so we expect to change a wet diaper, and surprise! There's poop. And Emma is all like whatevs.
We've been having her sit on the potty before her bath at night, and starting a few days before my surgery, she began peeing in the potty about 50% of the time. She never asks to use the potty, but will sometimes sit on it if we ask her to. The first time she peed, she was home with Daddy while I went to pack up my office for the move to a new building. According to Daddy, the baby was a little unnerved by peeing in the potty and wasn't quite sure it was ok. Daddy got way excited and celebrated her accomplishment with her. The next time she did it, she was a little less bothered, and after that, she was just fine. She connected it with the "yay mommy!" celebration and finally started getting excited for herself when she would pee in the potty. But yet, she still wouldn't seek out the potty. I mean, why would she take time out of watching "Elmo's World" for the eleven thousandth time to pee in the potty when she can just pee in her diaper any time she wants? Doesn't sound like a half-bad gig.
After doing some (ok, a LOT) of reading, I decided that the boot-camp style of potty training would be best for all of us. My plan: to just put her in panties and see what happens. With the expectation of lots of accidents, and the hope that she'd hate having pee run down her leg so she would finally have a reason to use the potty. As of right now, we're not going to be using Pull-Ups. Shoot, Pull-Ups are so close to diapers, that we might as well just use up the rest of the diapers we have for naps and bed time. We stocked up on Gerber training pants, some Bubble Guppies panties, and some vinyl covers. Of course it's nearly impossible to find anything in her size- she's so tiny, and most stores only carry 2T or bigger. I had to order her 18mo size training pants and some size small vinyl covers online, and bought her 2T Bubble Guppies panties that are obviously too big. So far, the Gerber training pants have been AWESOME. They fit more like boy shorts and the extra padding in the crotch means a little less pee to clean out of the carpet. The only thing left to purchase are some piddle pads for the car seats.
Since this is my last week before I return to work after my surgery, I decided to give potty training a try. I mentally prepared myself as much as possible. Remember: I'm a total rookie at this.
Other potty training prep:
Took the baby to Target in the morning and bought her a special Elmo (of course) potty book.
Told the baby a million times that today is "potty day" and that she wasn't going to wear diapers because she was going to pee in the potty.
Laid down a bunch of old towels in the play room to hopefully reduce the amount of urine that would soak into the carpet during accidents.
Placed the Spot Shot in a strategic location.
Put a roll of paper towels next to said Spot Shot bottle.
Said a prayer
Crossed my fingers
Promised myself I wouldn't start drinking until after the baby went to bed
So once we got home from Target, I asked her which panties she wanted to wear. Cupcakes? Nooo. Owls? Noooooo. Pink? No. Bubble Guppies?????? Nah. Alright then fine... cupcakes it is. I sat her on the potty and....... toots. No pee. The cupcake panties went on and I braced myself for what was to come. She sat on my lap at one point so I could read her a book and I held my breath and thought omg pleeeaaaaasssseeee don't pee on me, kid. And she didn't pee on me. Crisis averted.
On my third attempt of putting her on the potty, she peed. It surprised her, but I immediately starting praising her. She has a habit of sitting for a few moments, and then standing up and sticking her face down near the potty (we're using a Baby Bjorn potty chair at home) to see if anything is in there. So once some pee landed in the potty, she stood up to look at it. I sat her back down, and she finished emptying her (tiny) bladder. Score!! I acted like a serious idiot and praised the heck out of her. She was genuinely excited... either that, or she was incredibly entertained at how much of a fool I was being. Regardless, it was a small victory. I kept sitting her on the potty every 20-30 minutes. About an hour after the first pee, she did it again. In the potty. More idiotic dancing and celebrating ensued. Then she ate lunch, and the diaper went back on for nap time.
Ugh, I know. Most of the "potty training boot camp" style methods tell you to stop using diapers and never look back but... I couldn't bring myself to put her to bed in panties. Even with a vinyl cover, I wasn't so sure she'd stay dry. And omg she's a nightmarish tornado of hyperactivity and not-listening-to-mommy-ness when she hasn't had a good nap, so I'll be darned if she's going to take a short nap because she woke up wet. SO. On went the diaper. She stirred a lot during her nap, so I kept thinking she was done sleeping, but she actually slept for almost 3 hours. I had to go in and wake her up, which is very unusual, especially since she slept until almost 8am today. I did the creepy mom thing and watched her sleep for a few minutes before waking her up. And her diaper was DRY! So once she shook off the remaining sleepiness, I took her into the bathroom and she peed on the potty again. Again! We were on a roll. About 30 minutes later, she had her one-and-only accident for the day. She was sitting on the floor playing, and peed a little in her panties. It wasn't even enough to get on the carpet. She actually said "oh noooo poop!" so I freaked out and thought she was pooping in her panties. Nope. "Just pee-pees." I reminded her that pee goes in the potty and not in her panties and switched her to her owl panties just to mix things up a bit.
So the final tally was: 6 pees in the potty. 1 pee in her panties. Her only poo of the day happened before we went to Target, so it landed in her diaper. I am NOT looking forward to tomorrow's morning poo, which will most certainly land in her panties. I think it's going to take a little while before she willingly poops in the potty, because she's gotten it in her head that poop is gross and bad. I imagine she may even be a poo-withholder. So fingers crossed.
And our success didn't stop there. She actually chowed down on a hot dog in a bun tonight. I know most toddlers eat hot dogs, but she's never really gotten into it. And we all know how much of a picky eater she has been... She ate about half of her hot dog tonight, with some sweet corn on the side. Woo! She was also so well behaved all day. I mean, she's a really good kid almost every day but come on, she's two. She has tantrums and is really freaking stubborn sometimes. But today, she was exceptionally good and only had two tantrums when it was lunch time and she was hungry. She was a perfect angel in Target. It was one of those rare awesome days when things go really well. Doesn't happen often with a toddler.
She's certainly not a baby anymore. And while I miss holding her in my arms and giving her a bottle, rocking her to sleep, and hearing all of the sweet little baby noises she used to make, I'm also going to enjoy not changing diapers. And I'm definitely loving her saying "I love you mommy" and doing things like helping with chores, being incredibly adorable in the way only a toddler can be, and having conversations with me. That's what videos are for- any time I need my baby fix, I can just watch old videos of her gurgling and going cross-eyed while I'm thinking awwwww, she was so cute. But I'm so glad I'm not drenched in spitup today. Maybe my feelings will change tomorrow when I'm scrubbing poo out of some toddler panties.
The pediatrician gave us the go-ahead to start potty training when Emma was 18 months old, because her verbal skills were advanced and she seemed to be pretty aware of things in general. I didn't quite feel she was ready at that point, but started the conversation with Emma. This is why she happily shouts "Yay mommy!!" every time a toilet flushes. I figured she needed to know that going to the potty is a good thing. As time went on, I realized that the only way she was going to start using the potty was for her to become uncomfortable doing it any other way. You see, she couldn't care less if her diaper is wet or poopy. It doesn't bother her one bit. That's probably my fault- we invested in high-quality diapers that keep her bum dry even when they've soaked up a grapefruit-sized amount of urine. But I have no explanation as to why she's not bothered by a poopy diaper... that kid. We've found some "stealth poops" far too often, where she poops and carries on like nothing happened. If we miss the squatting and grunting, she runs around in a poopy diaper for God knows how long. Especially if it's not a stinky one... so we expect to change a wet diaper, and surprise! There's poop. And Emma is all like whatevs.
We've been having her sit on the potty before her bath at night, and starting a few days before my surgery, she began peeing in the potty about 50% of the time. She never asks to use the potty, but will sometimes sit on it if we ask her to. The first time she peed, she was home with Daddy while I went to pack up my office for the move to a new building. According to Daddy, the baby was a little unnerved by peeing in the potty and wasn't quite sure it was ok. Daddy got way excited and celebrated her accomplishment with her. The next time she did it, she was a little less bothered, and after that, she was just fine. She connected it with the "yay mommy!" celebration and finally started getting excited for herself when she would pee in the potty. But yet, she still wouldn't seek out the potty. I mean, why would she take time out of watching "Elmo's World" for the eleven thousandth time to pee in the potty when she can just pee in her diaper any time she wants? Doesn't sound like a half-bad gig.
After doing some (ok, a LOT) of reading, I decided that the boot-camp style of potty training would be best for all of us. My plan: to just put her in panties and see what happens. With the expectation of lots of accidents, and the hope that she'd hate having pee run down her leg so she would finally have a reason to use the potty. As of right now, we're not going to be using Pull-Ups. Shoot, Pull-Ups are so close to diapers, that we might as well just use up the rest of the diapers we have for naps and bed time. We stocked up on Gerber training pants, some Bubble Guppies panties, and some vinyl covers. Of course it's nearly impossible to find anything in her size- she's so tiny, and most stores only carry 2T or bigger. I had to order her 18mo size training pants and some size small vinyl covers online, and bought her 2T Bubble Guppies panties that are obviously too big. So far, the Gerber training pants have been AWESOME. They fit more like boy shorts and the extra padding in the crotch means a little less pee to clean out of the carpet. The only thing left to purchase are some piddle pads for the car seats.
Since this is my last week before I return to work after my surgery, I decided to give potty training a try. I mentally prepared myself as much as possible. Remember: I'm a total rookie at this.
Other potty training prep:
Took the baby to Target in the morning and bought her a special Elmo (of course) potty book.
Told the baby a million times that today is "potty day" and that she wasn't going to wear diapers because she was going to pee in the potty.
Laid down a bunch of old towels in the play room to hopefully reduce the amount of urine that would soak into the carpet during accidents.
Placed the Spot Shot in a strategic location.
Put a roll of paper towels next to said Spot Shot bottle.
Said a prayer
Crossed my fingers
Promised myself I wouldn't start drinking until after the baby went to bed
So once we got home from Target, I asked her which panties she wanted to wear. Cupcakes? Nooo. Owls? Noooooo. Pink? No. Bubble Guppies?????? Nah. Alright then fine... cupcakes it is. I sat her on the potty and....... toots. No pee. The cupcake panties went on and I braced myself for what was to come. She sat on my lap at one point so I could read her a book and I held my breath and thought omg pleeeaaaaasssseeee don't pee on me, kid. And she didn't pee on me. Crisis averted.
On my third attempt of putting her on the potty, she peed. It surprised her, but I immediately starting praising her. She has a habit of sitting for a few moments, and then standing up and sticking her face down near the potty (we're using a Baby Bjorn potty chair at home) to see if anything is in there. So once some pee landed in the potty, she stood up to look at it. I sat her back down, and she finished emptying her (tiny) bladder. Score!! I acted like a serious idiot and praised the heck out of her. She was genuinely excited... either that, or she was incredibly entertained at how much of a fool I was being. Regardless, it was a small victory. I kept sitting her on the potty every 20-30 minutes. About an hour after the first pee, she did it again. In the potty. More idiotic dancing and celebrating ensued. Then she ate lunch, and the diaper went back on for nap time.
Ugh, I know. Most of the "potty training boot camp" style methods tell you to stop using diapers and never look back but... I couldn't bring myself to put her to bed in panties. Even with a vinyl cover, I wasn't so sure she'd stay dry. And omg she's a nightmarish tornado of hyperactivity and not-listening-to-mommy-ness when she hasn't had a good nap, so I'll be darned if she's going to take a short nap because she woke up wet. SO. On went the diaper. She stirred a lot during her nap, so I kept thinking she was done sleeping, but she actually slept for almost 3 hours. I had to go in and wake her up, which is very unusual, especially since she slept until almost 8am today. I did the creepy mom thing and watched her sleep for a few minutes before waking her up. And her diaper was DRY! So once she shook off the remaining sleepiness, I took her into the bathroom and she peed on the potty again. Again! We were on a roll. About 30 minutes later, she had her one-and-only accident for the day. She was sitting on the floor playing, and peed a little in her panties. It wasn't even enough to get on the carpet. She actually said "oh noooo poop!" so I freaked out and thought she was pooping in her panties. Nope. "Just pee-pees." I reminded her that pee goes in the potty and not in her panties and switched her to her owl panties just to mix things up a bit.
So the final tally was: 6 pees in the potty. 1 pee in her panties. Her only poo of the day happened before we went to Target, so it landed in her diaper. I am NOT looking forward to tomorrow's morning poo, which will most certainly land in her panties. I think it's going to take a little while before she willingly poops in the potty, because she's gotten it in her head that poop is gross and bad. I imagine she may even be a poo-withholder. So fingers crossed.
And our success didn't stop there. She actually chowed down on a hot dog in a bun tonight. I know most toddlers eat hot dogs, but she's never really gotten into it. And we all know how much of a picky eater she has been... She ate about half of her hot dog tonight, with some sweet corn on the side. Woo! She was also so well behaved all day. I mean, she's a really good kid almost every day but come on, she's two. She has tantrums and is really freaking stubborn sometimes. But today, she was exceptionally good and only had two tantrums when it was lunch time and she was hungry. She was a perfect angel in Target. It was one of those rare awesome days when things go really well. Doesn't happen often with a toddler.
She's certainly not a baby anymore. And while I miss holding her in my arms and giving her a bottle, rocking her to sleep, and hearing all of the sweet little baby noises she used to make, I'm also going to enjoy not changing diapers. And I'm definitely loving her saying "I love you mommy" and doing things like helping with chores, being incredibly adorable in the way only a toddler can be, and having conversations with me. That's what videos are for- any time I need my baby fix, I can just watch old videos of her gurgling and going cross-eyed while I'm thinking awwwww, she was so cute. But I'm so glad I'm not drenched in spitup today. Maybe my feelings will change tomorrow when I'm scrubbing poo out of some toddler panties.
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Dear Emma 2014
Dear Emma,
Here we are again: another July 9th. It's your second birthday and life is so different than it was just one year ago. Your sappy mommy is full of so many emotions today...
In your first year of life, you were a chubby little blob of random noises and giggles that periodically spewed bodily fluids everywhere. You had fat rolls all over the place, your hair was sparse, and you always looked surprised. You had just started crawling before your first birthday. And now? You're this amazing, bubbly, energetic little princess who is so full of life and wonder. You run, jump (kind of), and don't hesitate to tell us what's on your mind. You're always boisterous, busy, and curious. And I love every exhausting second of it.
Last year on your birthday, I wondered what you'd be like now. Here were my thoughts:
When you were a baby, you were so chubby. You caught up to the average height and weight for your age pretty quickly, especially since you were 8 weeks early. But after you started walking, that baby fat disappeared and you have ended up being this tiny little toddler. You surprise people in public, because you look so young (your hair is short and you're small for your age) but once you start talking, you can visibly see their reaction to this tiny little know-it-all. You are so very social and say "hi" and "how are you?" to everyone who passes at the grocery store, but I think you sometimes offend older women or women with blond hair when you call them "Grammy" out of nowhere. They don't realize it's a compliment ;) Tiny or not, you have this amazing little pot belly that I love to pat, and the cutest little feet. I'm still not sure where your cute nose came from... you love helping around the house and cleaning with us, but for some reason you think any dirt on the floor is poop. So we'll suddenly hear you say "oooooooh nooooooo! Poop! Poop right there!" and it'll turn out to be a fragment of mulch. Or a piece of fuzz. And you absolutely despise being dirty, so you love washing your hands or wiping the dirt onto mommy's clothes.
Looking ahead, I can only hope that you continue to be so full of life and curiosity. I hope you still love animals, music, and books. I think you'll still be way too smart for your own good, and we probably won't be able to get much past you. I sincerely hope you're potty trained by this time next year, but you're so stubborn that I can't be so sure. I picture you still walking around with an Elmo attached to you at all times, and probably picky about what clothes you wear. I don't know if you'll still be napping in the afternoon or not. I think you'll be spunky, energetic, and constantly asking "why?" And again, I selfishly hope you'll want to cuddle more.
Pumpkin, you're nothing short of amazing. My days are filled with finding Elmo (because you cannot function without keeping tabs on him throughout the day), wiping messy hands, sweeping up crumbs from the floor, changing diapers (hopefully not for much longer!), bribing you for kisses, and getting drenched during bath time. I cherish bed time- we snuggle on the rocker while I read you some books, then I sit on the floor next to your bed and sing you songs while you lie down and cling to your Elmo. I wouldn't trade this life for anything else at all. And I know Daddy wouldn't either- you are the absolute most precious thing in the world to him. My heart melts to see how much he loves you. You don't know this, but after you go to bed, Daddy and I gush about all the funny and adorable things you said/did during the day and how cute you are. On a daily basis, we say things like "she's so cute" "I just love her so much" and "she's the best." No joke- on a daily basis.
And, as expected, I've learned a lot this year. I've never taken you for granted, but this year reminded me just how much you mean to me. My job has been relentlessly stressful and I've realized that it's more important to be here- and be present- for you than to worry so much about being under-appreciated at work. And then when my health issues came up, I realized that my number one priority, again, is to be here for you for as long as possible. When it came down to it, the choice between never having another child or always being at the doctor and possibly getting really sick was easy. I need to be your mommy. Forever.
You see, kiddo, I need you as much as you need me and Daddy. It's as simple as that. So while you may only be a little peanut of a two-year-old, you've taken up so much space in my heart that it's about to burst. You're so smart, and I hope that never changes because at this rate, you can do anything you could ever dream of. One of your favorite books is "Oh, the Places You'll Go!" by Dr. Seuss. My favorite quote is "Kid, you'll move mountains!" And my darling, you will.
I love you forever,
Mommy
Here we are again: another July 9th. It's your second birthday and life is so different than it was just one year ago. Your sappy mommy is full of so many emotions today...
In your first year of life, you were a chubby little blob of random noises and giggles that periodically spewed bodily fluids everywhere. You had fat rolls all over the place, your hair was sparse, and you always looked surprised. You had just started crawling before your first birthday. And now? You're this amazing, bubbly, energetic little princess who is so full of life and wonder. You run, jump (kind of), and don't hesitate to tell us what's on your mind. You're always boisterous, busy, and curious. And I love every exhausting second of it.
Last year on your birthday, I wondered what you'd be like now. Here were my thoughts:
I'm almost certain you'll still be a hot-headed little spitfire because I don't think that's a trait that's easily lost. I think you'll be a funny little kid who doesn't like to be told 'no' and still enjoys music more than anything. It looks like you'll still have blue eyes and probably some dirty blond hair with a smidge of red in it. I bet you'll hate wearing hair bows or having your hair done at all. You'll still be a picky eater but hopefully a good sleeper *fingers crossed* And I'm really holding out hope that you'll like to cuddle, because I really want to cuddle with you and you just won't let me!Well, I was mostly right. Hot-headed spitfire? Pretty much, but you're a little more tame now than you used to be. Your disposition is generally happy and spunky with a few (normal) temper tantrums sprinkled in. You're actually a very well-behaved child. You're certainly funny- you make us laugh every single day, no matter how awful our days have been. Even when I was under an incredible amount of stress and pressure at work, or stressed about my health, you have always been able to wash that away and make me laugh. You certainly don't like to be told 'no' but you handle it pretty well. Especially if we say "nah" instead of "no." Don't ask. We have no clue why. You do love music, and sing a whole bunch of songs. Your first song was "Rain Rain Go Away." You've kept your big, beautiful, twinkly blue eyes and your dirty blond hair with a smidge of red. Thankfully, your hair has started to grow in and the "old man hair" is a thing of the past, but you traded it for a bit of a mullet. Nothing a little hair clip can't somewhat fix. You have a cheesy little smile with an adorable gap between your front teeth. You hated having bows put in your hair until recently, and now it doesn't bother you. Although you'll rip them out of your hair multiple times per day when they annoy you. Picky eater? Kind of, but it's getting better every week. I'm so happy to say that you're a great sleeper- there have been a few bumps along the way, but you usually sleep for about 11-12 hours per night and about 2-3 hours during the day. We had to put you in your toddler bed in April because you became an escape artist and started climbing out of your crib. I was NOT ready for that, but you've done exceptionally well in your big-girl bed. And as far as cuddling... well... we take what we can get. And it's usually when you're scared or hurt, but I cling to the rare moments when you just want to cuddle because you love me.
When you were a baby, you were so chubby. You caught up to the average height and weight for your age pretty quickly, especially since you were 8 weeks early. But after you started walking, that baby fat disappeared and you have ended up being this tiny little toddler. You surprise people in public, because you look so young (your hair is short and you're small for your age) but once you start talking, you can visibly see their reaction to this tiny little know-it-all. You are so very social and say "hi" and "how are you?" to everyone who passes at the grocery store, but I think you sometimes offend older women or women with blond hair when you call them "Grammy" out of nowhere. They don't realize it's a compliment ;) Tiny or not, you have this amazing little pot belly that I love to pat, and the cutest little feet. I'm still not sure where your cute nose came from... you love helping around the house and cleaning with us, but for some reason you think any dirt on the floor is poop. So we'll suddenly hear you say "oooooooh nooooooo! Poop! Poop right there!" and it'll turn out to be a fragment of mulch. Or a piece of fuzz. And you absolutely despise being dirty, so you love washing your hands or wiping the dirt onto mommy's clothes.
Looking ahead, I can only hope that you continue to be so full of life and curiosity. I hope you still love animals, music, and books. I think you'll still be way too smart for your own good, and we probably won't be able to get much past you. I sincerely hope you're potty trained by this time next year, but you're so stubborn that I can't be so sure. I picture you still walking around with an Elmo attached to you at all times, and probably picky about what clothes you wear. I don't know if you'll still be napping in the afternoon or not. I think you'll be spunky, energetic, and constantly asking "why?" And again, I selfishly hope you'll want to cuddle more.
Pumpkin, you're nothing short of amazing. My days are filled with finding Elmo (because you cannot function without keeping tabs on him throughout the day), wiping messy hands, sweeping up crumbs from the floor, changing diapers (hopefully not for much longer!), bribing you for kisses, and getting drenched during bath time. I cherish bed time- we snuggle on the rocker while I read you some books, then I sit on the floor next to your bed and sing you songs while you lie down and cling to your Elmo. I wouldn't trade this life for anything else at all. And I know Daddy wouldn't either- you are the absolute most precious thing in the world to him. My heart melts to see how much he loves you. You don't know this, but after you go to bed, Daddy and I gush about all the funny and adorable things you said/did during the day and how cute you are. On a daily basis, we say things like "she's so cute" "I just love her so much" and "she's the best." No joke- on a daily basis.
And, as expected, I've learned a lot this year. I've never taken you for granted, but this year reminded me just how much you mean to me. My job has been relentlessly stressful and I've realized that it's more important to be here- and be present- for you than to worry so much about being under-appreciated at work. And then when my health issues came up, I realized that my number one priority, again, is to be here for you for as long as possible. When it came down to it, the choice between never having another child or always being at the doctor and possibly getting really sick was easy. I need to be your mommy. Forever.
You see, kiddo, I need you as much as you need me and Daddy. It's as simple as that. So while you may only be a little peanut of a two-year-old, you've taken up so much space in my heart that it's about to burst. You're so smart, and I hope that never changes because at this rate, you can do anything you could ever dream of. One of your favorite books is "Oh, the Places You'll Go!" by Dr. Seuss. My favorite quote is "Kid, you'll move mountains!" And my darling, you will.
I love you forever,
Mommy
Year Two!
Another year has come and gone... my baby girl is two!
(here's a link to last year's answers to see how much has changed in just one year)
(here's a link to last year's answers to see how much has changed in just one year)
YEAR TWO:
How old are you? This many *holds up two fingers*
What is your nickname? Still nothing consistent- sweet potato and sweet pea have remained, in addition to: boo, honey, cutie pie, bug, little bug, and buggy
What is your favorite color? Not quite sure there's a favorite yet. Sometimes you call the black crayon "puppy" because that's the color daddy uses to draw Riley :)
What is your favorite animal? You really like looking for lizards (or "wizards"). Going to the zoo is your favorite thing to do, apparently. But you'll settle for a quick trip to the pet store to look at the fish.
What is your favorite book? Anything that is a book. "Hop on Pop" was your favorite for a majority of the year, and the first one that you memorized.
What is your favorite TV show? You love "Bubble Guppies" "Yo Gabba Gabba" and the "Elmo's World" segment of "Sesame Street"
What is your favorite movie? You still haven't watched a full movie, and I don't think you really care.
What is your favorite song? Old McDonald. You make us sing it over and over again. And you don't want us to sing about the animals on Old McDonald's farm... oh, no. You want us to sing "and on that farm he had a mommy/daddy/Elmo/blanket/Chubby Bunny/fan/baby/etc." In your mind, Old McDonald's farm is full of your most treasured things, and it's pretty cute.
What is your favorite drink? Milk. It would probably be juice if we ever let you drink it, but it's very rare that you have it. We don't want you becoming a juice-head.
What is your favorite dinner? Macaroni and cheese, or, as you say, "mocky sheeze"
What is your favorite snack? Fruit pouches ALL DAY LONG. But you also rarely turn down yogurt or raisins.
What is your favorite outfit? You haven't become attached to clothes yet, thank goodness. You pretty much just wear what we put you in. For now.
What is your favorite game? You still like Peek-a-boo but the concept of a "game" hasn't really sunk in yet.
What is your favorite toy? You love books more than anything, but also crayons, Mega Bloks, and you're really enjoying the Little People house we got you for your birthday.
Who is your best friend? Probably Grammy. But you do seem to like Mommy and Daddy these days.
What is your favorite thing to do? Read books!
What is your favorite holiday? You don't really know what a holiday is, but we'll just go with Christmas on this one.
What is your favorite thing to take to bed with you at night? Elmo. You HAVE to have your Elmo to sleep with, and you put the back of his head up to your mouth to soothe yourself. You also need your Chubby Bunny (sometimes called "Tubby"), two fluffy blankets (thanks, Daddy, for starting that), and one lightweight blanket because you like to be covered up, but it gets hot in your room.
Where is your favorite place to go? The zoo, the pool, the park, the pet store, and Target (Daddy takes you to Target every Tuesday and lets you read books)
Where do you want to go on vacation? Someplace with a zoo and a pool, would be my guess.
What do you want to be when you grow up? At this rate, you'll be a zoologist or a veterinarian. You LOVE animals.
What did you do on your birthday? We celebrated your birthday yesterday, since Daddy had to work today. So yesterday, we went shopping and bought you an Elmo balloon, gave you your presents (a Little People house, an Elmo t-shirt, an Elmo coloring book, an Elmo snack box, a new book), you ate a burrito for dinner and had a cupcake for dessert, but didn't like being messy and didn't eat much of it. Today, you spent the morning with Mommy and then spent the afternoon with Grammy and Pop so Mommy could go get your birthday party supplies and rest because I'm still recovering from surgery. Your birthday party is 7/12 :)
Saturday, July 5, 2014
I Can't Win
I feel like death today.
Forgive me in advance if this post feels a little self-pitying. I try so hard to stay away from feeling sorry for myself, but good Lord these last few days have been nothing short of terrible.
Just when I started to feel like I had more energy and didn't have to walk around in an awkward position because of my swelly belly and incision pain, my body revolted.
My surgery was June 17th. On June 28th (a Saturday), I ended up back at the cancer center in their direct referral center (like an emergency room) because I was bleeding pretty profusely. Of course, by the time I arrived, the bleeding had mostly stopped. The doctors asked me if I had a bleeding disorder. Nope. Are you sure? Yes. Did you have heavy menstrual periods? Yes, but only because of the 1920987456 issues with my reproductive system. Frequent nosebleeds? Nope. Bruising easily? NO. For the love of God I don't have a bleeding disorder! After pulling a few golfball-sized blood clots out of me, the resident and fellow declared that everything was fine and my bleeding was normal. And then sent me on my merry way. I felt a little dismissed, and a little irritated that the amount of fresh blood leaving my body 11 days after surgery was deemed normal. I went home and rested a bit.
The next day was hubby's 30th birthday, and I felt awful that I couldn't make it a special day for him. I opted to let him sleep in, and watched the baby for the majority of the day for him, but I felt pretty ok. Exhausted, but ok. The next day, hubby returned to work and my in-laws watched the baby for me so I could rest. It was much needed, because I was in a decent amount of pain all day. I was getting discouraged that it seemed to be taking so much longer for me to heal than I had anticipated. The next day was fine, but again, I felt pretty tired and was in some pain. I was also "spotting" or bleeding just a tiny bit, but nothing dramatic.
My 2-week post-op appointment was scheduled for Wednesday July 2nd. Between 6/28 (when I went to the hospital for bleeding) and 7/2, I had bouts of bleeding that would increase, and then suddenly decrease. I didn't think much of it, but was tired of all the blood. During my post-op appointment, the doctor decided to take a look and found an area of active bleeding, which she said was "unusual" for two weeks after surgery. She cauterized it with silver nitrate and omg it sucked so bad. I remember her saying "this might sting a little" and it did sting a little. Then it stung A LOT. Having been traumatized so many times over the last few months, I feel generally dizzy and lightheaded any time I'm being examined in the first place. Add some pain to that situation and I felt like I was going to pass out. But I didn't, and it was over pretty quickly, although she used at least 6 silver nitrate sticks, which look like really long matches and also feel like someone is putting burning matches into you. So the appearance was appropriate.
I met hubby for lunch and kept having this awful shooting pain from where the silver nitrate was applied that shot up towards my belly button. I told hubby that I wasn't sure I'd be able to go grocery shopping if the pain continued and that I needed to go home and lie down. I got a new prescription for some non-narcotic pain meds, went home, and plopped into bed. The shooting pain continued, but I happily posted on Facebook that I was released from the cancer center because there was no evidence of invasion and therefore no need for further monitoring by the oncologist since all of my girly bits had been taken out. Woo! I could finally start to put this behind me. And then... I felt a gush. Eff.
Yep. I was bleeding again. **Here's the part you may want to skip if you're squeamish about blood. I called the doctor's office just before 3pm to explain that I had just been there earlier in the day but was now bleeding pretty badly. The nurse who took my call didn't seem to think it was that big of a deal, and said "hopefully someone will call you back today." After about an hour, I called back and spoke with someone else, who clearly understood my concern and went to find my doctor. At this point, I was at the "bleeding through a sanitary pad an hour" level of bleeding, which is the benchmark of "something is wrong." They called back and scheduled me an appointment for first thing the next morning, but told me I could go to the ER if I wanted to. This lady was incredibly sweet, and warned me to lie down for the rest of the night and she was hopeful that all of this awfulness would stop. If I was comfortable waiting and monitoring overnight, I could be examined in the morning. But if at any point I started to bleed through three pads an hour, I HAD to go to the ER. There was no choice if I got to that point. The direct referral beds were full when I spoke with them just before 5, so going back down to the cancer center wasn't an option. Being stubborn as I am, I told myself that there was no way I was going somewhere in the middle of the night, and certainly not going to the ER if at all possible. Hubby came home with the baby and got her ready for bed, and I tried my best to stay calm and lie down.
There's a level of panic that is unavoidable when your body is losing so much blood at one time. By about 9:30, I knew my plan of watching-and-waiting was out the window. I called the on-call doctor, who told me to wait another hour. If my bleeding continued at the level it was at, or got any worse, I was to call back and he would see if there was a bed available at the cancer center. An hour later, I called back. It hadn't gotten any better, and now I was getting scared. On top of being scared, I was in pain that was rapidly increasing. There was a bed available, and off we went (after my dear stepmother-in-law came over so someone was with the baby overnight). I remember feeling awful that we'd come back in the middle of the night and have to wake her up. I was wrong about that.
The ride to the cancer center takes about 45 minutes. I was in horrible pain the whole way, and terrified. I had been down this road twice before, but not like this. The bleeding was far worse, and there was incredible pain and pressure. I prayed that my insides weren't falling out (that can happen after a hysterectomy but do yourself a favor and don't google it). When we arrived and I got out of the car, I was greeted with a gush and warmth down my leg. Awesome, now I get to hobble into the hospital with blood all over my pants. They immediately got me into a room, and my attempts at staying calm were becoming futile. I was losing so much blood and was in so much pain that I couldn't think straight or form much of a complete thought. Luckily my nurse was a-maze-ing and made me feel at ease. He kept things lighthearted and refused to let me get crabby. Once I was all hooked up to the machines, the direct referral center's doctor came to see me. The nurse let him know that my blood pressure was 145/101 and my heart rate was 115. The doctor was cool as a cucumber, but clearly concerned at every stat they threw at him. Great. The doctor told me he'd let the gyn on-call do the exam, but was worried about my symptoms and blood loss and that, depending on the results of my labs, I may need a blood transfusion. Omg. Please no. I begged for something for the pain, and they gave me a tiny dose of morphine which did nothing at all.
When the gyn resident came in to see me, she told me she was going to examine me. I'll spare you the details, but there was blood everywhere. Like, everywhere. Even all over my shirt. One look, and the resident clearly knew this was beyond her ability and paged the on-call fellow. They gave me something stronger for the pain. When the fellow came in, things got hairy. The pain was so intense, and there was so much blood, that we didn't really get very far. He felt my stitches were intact, but was really worried about how much blood I was losing. They decided to admit me for the night and do a CT scan to make sure there was no internal bleeding. It was almost 3am by the time they were done with examining me. I don't typically cry from pain, but I was hysterical after they were done- partly from pain, and partly from the trauma of the whole situation. Then they brought me my contrast solution to drink for my CT scan. I had my scan at about 4am, then finally got to my room. By then, the pain was gone. As it turns out, there was such a large volume of blood clots that it was putting some major pressure on my innards and causing me such great pain. So once the clots were pulled out, the pressure and pain went away. I finally got to try to sleep around 5am, but was up again at 6:30 and every hour after that with doctors and nurses coming in, asking me questions, and drawing blood.
For some unknown reason, the bleeding slowed way down on its own. The CT scan didn't show any internal bleeding (whew) but my hemoglobin and potassium levels crashed, so I had to stay overnight again. They gave me IV potassium which ruined any shred of comfort I finally had. My whole left arm felt like it was going to fall off, even after they slowed my infusion rate by half. The doctor finally agreed to let me eat (did I forget to mention that I hadn't eaten anything since a Greek yogurt at 9pm, and before that was just the lunch I ate with hubby after my appointment?) at about 1pm on 7/3 and they discontinued the potassium via IV, and opted for potassium pills instead. Hallelujah. I went downstairs for another exam, but only after being given oral Ativan and IV dilaudid to calm me the hell down before my exam. The doctor got smart, realizing how traumatized I've been over the last few months of lying on tables having massive blood clots pulled from my body. The exam went well and the doctor patched me up, and felt confident that my bleeding was done, at least for now. After the Dilaudid and Ativan combined with the complete lack of sleep from the night before, I was pretty much dead to the world from about 7:30pm until the next morning. I was finally free to go home in the morning on 7/4. Happy 4th of July to me.
I don't have a bleeding disorder. They tested my blood clotting three different times and all was normal. So no one has any idea why I've bled so badly so many times after these last two surgeries. Upon exam, the area that was bleeding was so tiny, that it really didn't explain why I bled so much.
I lost about 10% of my blood volume in just a few hours. My hemoglobin dropped from 13 (when I arrived at the hospital) to less than 10 by the next morning. My body reacted in some pretty dramatic ways- My white blood cell count shot up in response to the amount of blood I was losing, and my pelvic lymph nodes swelled. My body was preparing for the worst and sending in the troops to fight the battle.
I slept for about two hours yesterday afternoon. I still feel awful... I'm nauseated, exhausted, and weak. If I stand up too quickly, I feel dizzy and lightheaded. My arms and legs feel heavy, yet I look like a frail old woman; I've lost about 6 pounds since my surgery, and I was already slightly underweight to begin with. The last few days are pretty much a blur.
I'm hoping it's not long before my energy level returns... I'm supposed to return to work in a week or two. That's if I don't start bleeding again. Hmph.
Forgive me in advance if this post feels a little self-pitying. I try so hard to stay away from feeling sorry for myself, but good Lord these last few days have been nothing short of terrible.
Just when I started to feel like I had more energy and didn't have to walk around in an awkward position because of my swelly belly and incision pain, my body revolted.
My surgery was June 17th. On June 28th (a Saturday), I ended up back at the cancer center in their direct referral center (like an emergency room) because I was bleeding pretty profusely. Of course, by the time I arrived, the bleeding had mostly stopped. The doctors asked me if I had a bleeding disorder. Nope. Are you sure? Yes. Did you have heavy menstrual periods? Yes, but only because of the 1920987456 issues with my reproductive system. Frequent nosebleeds? Nope. Bruising easily? NO. For the love of God I don't have a bleeding disorder! After pulling a few golfball-sized blood clots out of me, the resident and fellow declared that everything was fine and my bleeding was normal. And then sent me on my merry way. I felt a little dismissed, and a little irritated that the amount of fresh blood leaving my body 11 days after surgery was deemed normal. I went home and rested a bit.
The next day was hubby's 30th birthday, and I felt awful that I couldn't make it a special day for him. I opted to let him sleep in, and watched the baby for the majority of the day for him, but I felt pretty ok. Exhausted, but ok. The next day, hubby returned to work and my in-laws watched the baby for me so I could rest. It was much needed, because I was in a decent amount of pain all day. I was getting discouraged that it seemed to be taking so much longer for me to heal than I had anticipated. The next day was fine, but again, I felt pretty tired and was in some pain. I was also "spotting" or bleeding just a tiny bit, but nothing dramatic.
My 2-week post-op appointment was scheduled for Wednesday July 2nd. Between 6/28 (when I went to the hospital for bleeding) and 7/2, I had bouts of bleeding that would increase, and then suddenly decrease. I didn't think much of it, but was tired of all the blood. During my post-op appointment, the doctor decided to take a look and found an area of active bleeding, which she said was "unusual" for two weeks after surgery. She cauterized it with silver nitrate and omg it sucked so bad. I remember her saying "this might sting a little" and it did sting a little. Then it stung A LOT. Having been traumatized so many times over the last few months, I feel generally dizzy and lightheaded any time I'm being examined in the first place. Add some pain to that situation and I felt like I was going to pass out. But I didn't, and it was over pretty quickly, although she used at least 6 silver nitrate sticks, which look like really long matches and also feel like someone is putting burning matches into you. So the appearance was appropriate.
I met hubby for lunch and kept having this awful shooting pain from where the silver nitrate was applied that shot up towards my belly button. I told hubby that I wasn't sure I'd be able to go grocery shopping if the pain continued and that I needed to go home and lie down. I got a new prescription for some non-narcotic pain meds, went home, and plopped into bed. The shooting pain continued, but I happily posted on Facebook that I was released from the cancer center because there was no evidence of invasion and therefore no need for further monitoring by the oncologist since all of my girly bits had been taken out. Woo! I could finally start to put this behind me. And then... I felt a gush. Eff.
Yep. I was bleeding again. **Here's the part you may want to skip if you're squeamish about blood. I called the doctor's office just before 3pm to explain that I had just been there earlier in the day but was now bleeding pretty badly. The nurse who took my call didn't seem to think it was that big of a deal, and said "hopefully someone will call you back today." After about an hour, I called back and spoke with someone else, who clearly understood my concern and went to find my doctor. At this point, I was at the "bleeding through a sanitary pad an hour" level of bleeding, which is the benchmark of "something is wrong." They called back and scheduled me an appointment for first thing the next morning, but told me I could go to the ER if I wanted to. This lady was incredibly sweet, and warned me to lie down for the rest of the night and she was hopeful that all of this awfulness would stop. If I was comfortable waiting and monitoring overnight, I could be examined in the morning. But if at any point I started to bleed through three pads an hour, I HAD to go to the ER. There was no choice if I got to that point. The direct referral beds were full when I spoke with them just before 5, so going back down to the cancer center wasn't an option. Being stubborn as I am, I told myself that there was no way I was going somewhere in the middle of the night, and certainly not going to the ER if at all possible. Hubby came home with the baby and got her ready for bed, and I tried my best to stay calm and lie down.
There's a level of panic that is unavoidable when your body is losing so much blood at one time. By about 9:30, I knew my plan of watching-and-waiting was out the window. I called the on-call doctor, who told me to wait another hour. If my bleeding continued at the level it was at, or got any worse, I was to call back and he would see if there was a bed available at the cancer center. An hour later, I called back. It hadn't gotten any better, and now I was getting scared. On top of being scared, I was in pain that was rapidly increasing. There was a bed available, and off we went (after my dear stepmother-in-law came over so someone was with the baby overnight). I remember feeling awful that we'd come back in the middle of the night and have to wake her up. I was wrong about that.
The ride to the cancer center takes about 45 minutes. I was in horrible pain the whole way, and terrified. I had been down this road twice before, but not like this. The bleeding was far worse, and there was incredible pain and pressure. I prayed that my insides weren't falling out (that can happen after a hysterectomy but do yourself a favor and don't google it). When we arrived and I got out of the car, I was greeted with a gush and warmth down my leg. Awesome, now I get to hobble into the hospital with blood all over my pants. They immediately got me into a room, and my attempts at staying calm were becoming futile. I was losing so much blood and was in so much pain that I couldn't think straight or form much of a complete thought. Luckily my nurse was a-maze-ing and made me feel at ease. He kept things lighthearted and refused to let me get crabby. Once I was all hooked up to the machines, the direct referral center's doctor came to see me. The nurse let him know that my blood pressure was 145/101 and my heart rate was 115. The doctor was cool as a cucumber, but clearly concerned at every stat they threw at him. Great. The doctor told me he'd let the gyn on-call do the exam, but was worried about my symptoms and blood loss and that, depending on the results of my labs, I may need a blood transfusion. Omg. Please no. I begged for something for the pain, and they gave me a tiny dose of morphine which did nothing at all.
When the gyn resident came in to see me, she told me she was going to examine me. I'll spare you the details, but there was blood everywhere. Like, everywhere. Even all over my shirt. One look, and the resident clearly knew this was beyond her ability and paged the on-call fellow. They gave me something stronger for the pain. When the fellow came in, things got hairy. The pain was so intense, and there was so much blood, that we didn't really get very far. He felt my stitches were intact, but was really worried about how much blood I was losing. They decided to admit me for the night and do a CT scan to make sure there was no internal bleeding. It was almost 3am by the time they were done with examining me. I don't typically cry from pain, but I was hysterical after they were done- partly from pain, and partly from the trauma of the whole situation. Then they brought me my contrast solution to drink for my CT scan. I had my scan at about 4am, then finally got to my room. By then, the pain was gone. As it turns out, there was such a large volume of blood clots that it was putting some major pressure on my innards and causing me such great pain. So once the clots were pulled out, the pressure and pain went away. I finally got to try to sleep around 5am, but was up again at 6:30 and every hour after that with doctors and nurses coming in, asking me questions, and drawing blood.
For some unknown reason, the bleeding slowed way down on its own. The CT scan didn't show any internal bleeding (whew) but my hemoglobin and potassium levels crashed, so I had to stay overnight again. They gave me IV potassium which ruined any shred of comfort I finally had. My whole left arm felt like it was going to fall off, even after they slowed my infusion rate by half. The doctor finally agreed to let me eat (did I forget to mention that I hadn't eaten anything since a Greek yogurt at 9pm, and before that was just the lunch I ate with hubby after my appointment?) at about 1pm on 7/3 and they discontinued the potassium via IV, and opted for potassium pills instead. Hallelujah. I went downstairs for another exam, but only after being given oral Ativan and IV dilaudid to calm me the hell down before my exam. The doctor got smart, realizing how traumatized I've been over the last few months of lying on tables having massive blood clots pulled from my body. The exam went well and the doctor patched me up, and felt confident that my bleeding was done, at least for now. After the Dilaudid and Ativan combined with the complete lack of sleep from the night before, I was pretty much dead to the world from about 7:30pm until the next morning. I was finally free to go home in the morning on 7/4. Happy 4th of July to me.
I don't have a bleeding disorder. They tested my blood clotting three different times and all was normal. So no one has any idea why I've bled so badly so many times after these last two surgeries. Upon exam, the area that was bleeding was so tiny, that it really didn't explain why I bled so much.
I lost about 10% of my blood volume in just a few hours. My hemoglobin dropped from 13 (when I arrived at the hospital) to less than 10 by the next morning. My body reacted in some pretty dramatic ways- My white blood cell count shot up in response to the amount of blood I was losing, and my pelvic lymph nodes swelled. My body was preparing for the worst and sending in the troops to fight the battle.
I slept for about two hours yesterday afternoon. I still feel awful... I'm nauseated, exhausted, and weak. If I stand up too quickly, I feel dizzy and lightheaded. My arms and legs feel heavy, yet I look like a frail old woman; I've lost about 6 pounds since my surgery, and I was already slightly underweight to begin with. The last few days are pretty much a blur.
I'm hoping it's not long before my energy level returns... I'm supposed to return to work in a week or two. That's if I don't start bleeding again. Hmph.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)