I feel like I've started so many posts talking about how terrible I am at blogging and how I resolve to be better about it, and then not much changes. So in all honesty, I have no glorious excuse. The holidays have come and gone-well, except for New Years-but close enough. I can't say those kept me from blogging any more than regular chores like laundry and grocery shopping. I do have ideas for different posts floating around in my head. Why don't I just sit down and write them one of these days? I don't know. Probably because they're fairly nebulous at this point. But as this is the time of year for resolutions and bettering oneself, I really am going to try to be better about this blogging thing and write those posts I keep meaning to.
I don't want this to just be a post where I list my goals for the new year. Personally I think that would be pretty boring to write. And read. So...I'm not going to! Ha! Since 2015 was easily the worst year of my life, I'm happy to see it go and hopeful for what 2016 could bring. But as I've mentioned in another post, I don't want to dwell on the negative. So I'm going to post a few of my favorite things that did happen in 2015. (And if anyone starts singing My Favorite Things from Sound of Music, so help me, I will punch you. I LOATHE that musical.)
2015 Favorites:
(in no particular order)
Disneyland
Watson
My witch themed murder mystery party for Halloween
Comic Con
Star Wars
Paint Nite
I know there are others, but these are what I had pictures for and came to mind fairly quickly. So sayonara 2015, you kicked my butt, and also had some good times. I'm anxious to see what good is coming my way in 2016.
In my continued efforts to be transparent with my own journey with depression, I write this. Again I find myself hesitating, but my hope is reading about what I'm going through will help someone else. So here we go...
Originally when I went off the antidepressants, I really did feel great. I think part of it was the fact that I felt better about handling things on my own. I felt more in control of my feelings and my mind. But slowly, the pain came back. At first I didn't even recognize it for what it was, or that I really had slipped back down. The haunting thought kept coming to me that maybe I gave up on the medications too soon. The PA wanted to give me one more prescription-one that would work on dopamine, rather than serotonin. Clearly messing with serotonin was not the way to go for me. But I was scared. I was scared to mess with a different neurotransmitter. So I said I was ready to handle things on my own because I didn't want to find out what weird side effects could come. Messing with the chemicals in your brain is kind of a big deal. And I think deep down I knew this, but didn't want to admit it to myself.
So I started to look for different ailments that could explain why I felt crappy. In hindsight, I was rather messed up. But it was, and still is, extremely hard for me to admit when I need help. With the background I have, I know there's nothing to be ashamed of in needing antidepressants, but the proud part of me is one tough cookie to break. I know they can do a lot of good and help thousands of people but again, I was scared to let them work on me.
Eventually, though, I admitted defeat and landed in the PA's office yet again. He seemed almost as if he was enjoying me explaining my struggles. When I pointed this out to him, his response surprised me a bit. He said it was good to see me coming to terms with and accepting things. (At that moment I didn't realize that's what I was doing.) He said I was a tough one to crack. (That made me happy when it probably shouldn't have.) Then I had one of those moments where you aren't really aware of the breakthrough you're making until the words have left your mouth. I told him part of the reason I don't like taking antidepressants is because taking a pill every morning makes me feel like I'm sick. Without missing a beat, he said that's okay. (This next little bit is mostly just for me) It's okay to be sick. It's okay to need help. I know I've said these things to other people before, but it's just as important for me to say them to myself. This struggle is not my identity, and it will help me better understand what others are going through.
At the end of my appointment, I remember him saying it's okay...You'll take the Wellbutrin, and you'll feel better. I remember thinking, can it really be that simple? And then I had the thought, why wouldn't it be? I've only been taking this new pill for a few days, but haven't had any side effects, so maybe this is the boost I didn't want to admit I needed. I guess it can be that simple.
I really am so terrible at keeping this blog going. I apologize to anyone who actually waits for my posts here. My cooking blog on the other hand, feels like it's doing splendidly! Things lately haven't been super exciting, we've just been plugging along. I'm trying to figure out how to get where I want to be for my career, as is Husband. Grad school is very likely for both of us. Our lease for our apartment will be up this coming spring, so we've also been looking rather casually for a new place to live. It's looking like we'll land in a townhome, but exactly where is still TBD. Watson is still as adorable as ever. His new trick is to wake us up in the middle of the night by meowing a bunch for no apparent reason. Good thing he's cute.
Oh! How stupid of me! I almost forgot my sister and I decided to get crafty last week. We put vinyl stickers on those plastic pumpkins because I saw it on Etsy and thought that would be so easy to do yourself! I am not a crafty person. Like really, I'm not. I'm comfortable in the kitchen, and playing piano. Sometimes guitar. And singing in my car if I'm by myself. I can't craft worth squat, but that doesn't stop me from trying! I've learned to just keep the crafts simple. I thought this would be a really simple one. What I didn't think through was the fact that putting vinyl on a curved surface is a pain in the butt. I sat and smoothed bubbles only to have them reappear and then reappear again. The other thing we learned was that smaller pieces work better on your curved surface. My Tanner pumpkin with the spider has zero bubbles or folds. But the other two pumpkins do. Oh well. They're currently on our porch so no one can really inspect them closely. Ta da!
Last weekend I went to comic con with my sister and Husband. This the second con Husband and I have been to, the first for my sister. Originally I wasn't going to go. They didn't have any celebrity guests I was super excited about. Somewhere in the mix though, my sister convinced me to sign up for the Superhero 5k with her. And then they announced Chris Evans was going to be at comic con. (That's Captain America for those who aren't in the nerd loop.) That's a HUGE deal. And my sister happens to think he's pretty cute, so I managed to convince her to go to see him and maybe get an autograph or photo op. Then it was announced that his autographs and photo ops would be sold for $150 a pop. Ouch. That's a bit out of range for a good chunk of us, I'd say. So I felt like a horrible sister because I'd convinced her to go for him, and now she wouldn't even get to interact with him. (They released some of the photo ops in a lottery, but of course we didn't win.)
All this was happening in the months and weeks leading up to comic con, I can't remember the exact timeline. Meanwhile, we were doing our best to get in shape for the 5k. Fast forward to a week or two before comic con. SLCC announced that the Chris Evans panel was going to require a ticket, which would be issued, again via a lottery. This was very likely due to the fact that it was going to be extremely popular and we don't have the capacity for people to camp out like they do at San Diego for Hall H. Not to mention, we don't have a room the size of Hall H. So we entered to win for that, thinking little of it as the panel was going to be the same morning as the race.
Fast forward again to Friday night, my sister and I are sitting in a panel at the end of the day. She decides to check her email. She has won a ticket to the Chris Evans panel the next morning!! We're shocked. We leave the panel because it was boring and my sister now needs to decide what to do. So we wander the vendor floor for a bit and participate in some retail therapy. I'm telling her to go to the panel, as is Husband, and her friend she's texting. We sit down in the final panel of the night and she checks her email again. She's won a second ticket! I get to go too! However, the entry times for the panel are roughly an hour apart so we wouldn't be together and we'd have to miss the race. I'm fine with this as I took a month or so off from running after I thought I was pregnant and wasn't. My body's just mean. But she's having a really hard time with this because of all the effort she's put towards it. After much anguish, it's decided we'll go to the panel.
The next morning, we both made some friends while waiting for the panel to start. The girl next to me had flown in from Wisconsin, had a photo op with Chris and Sebastian Stan (the Winter Soldier), and was getting both of them to sign said picture. She said she'd spent about $1000 on all this. That is commitment, right there. But most importantly, the panel! Chris is adorable. He seemed like a very nice, down to earth kind of guy. I didn't know this, but I guess he has social anxiety and wasn't even sure if he should take the role of Cap because of it. I tweeted my favorite quote from the panel, which was this: "If you're truly grateful for everything that's happening in your life, I don't think brain noise can exist." An amazing perspective on dealing with anxiety, if you ask me. Our time with Chris was much too short, as they had to whisk him away for more photo ops. But then we got Anthony Mackie (Falcon) and he was hilarious. I have to say it was a really cool experience even though things turned into a big pain getting there. All in all, yes, I think I'd do it again. Congrats on another great con, SLCC.
My sister in law told me I should post about him, so here we go:
This is Watson! We adopted this guy back in April from Best Friends Animal Society. They are a great organization, and I highly recommend them to anyone in my area looking for a new fuzzy friend.
Watson is the name they gave him at the shelter, and at first I wasn't too fond of it, but Husband liked it so it stuck. And it's grown on me, much like how much I adore this fluff ball. He is the sweetest, snuggliest cat I've ever met. The first few nights home, he slept between me and Husband on the bed, up by our pillows. It may sound crazy, but it really felt like he was grateful we adopted him.
Just a few days after we brought him home, he was exploring and hopped onto the kitchen counter. I told him to get down, and instead, he hopped up onto the fridge.
He wouldn't get down, so I had to climb onto a chair to get him. Ever since then, he's loved getting into mischief.
He's been known to take naps in a cabinet in Husband's desk.
This is one of my favorite pictures of him.
And he likes to use my chest as a pillow.
Sometimes it seems like he's more dog than cat, though. He runs to greet us when we come home, drinks from the toilet, and begs for food. Not like a dog begs, but he'll come sit and just stare at you. Or, since we often eat dinner sitting on the couch rather than at the dining table, he'll jump up and sit next to you on the couch and sometimes put a paw on your arm. Subtle, yes?
He does have FIV, but you wouldn't know it looking at him or watching him play with his favorite toy. FIV is basically the kitty version of AIDS. It cannot be transferred to humans, only cat to cat through blood. Just like we couldn't give him some human blood borne disease, which now I can't think of any new examples of. It doesn't require him to have any special food or medications, we just have to watch him to see if he gets sick and be quick to get him to the vet if he does. If you'd like to learn more about FIV cats, you can go here.
For those of you who follow me on Instagram and/or are friends with me on Facebook, you're going to have to just put up with all the pictures of him. Until I'm pregnant again, he's our baby.
Looking back, I can't believe I started this blog a year ago! (Yesterday, technically.) What a year it's been, too. I could rehash everything and write a really long post, but I don't want to dwell on the past. Timon and Pumbaa were right: You've gotta put your behind in your past.
Yes, this past year has easily been the worst of my life. There's no debating that. But I don't want to dwell on it and go over everything again and again. There's a scene in an episode of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt where she says "The worst thing that can ever happen to me has already happened." That might not be an exact quote, but the idea is still there. While I do still have my bad days, Husband and I both truly feel things are looking up. We adopted an adorable cat back in spring, and have definitely become much closer as a couple. Those are just two of the good things that have happened despite the difficulties. I've also started teaching myself to be a better cook and documenting my adventures on my cooking blog. We're working on saving to hopefully buy a house in a few months, too. So things are going to be okay. Definitely not where I thought they'd be at this point in the year, but it's alright.
It's been two months since I've posted. My bad, I'm terrible at blogging. Well, blogging here. I've been really good at keeping up with my cooking blog if I do say so myself. Anyway, since this blog is insights into my thoughts and feelings and things I like, here's what is easily my favorite scene in my favorite movie:
The movie is Only Lovers Left Alive, and really truly, I love it. Maybe someday I'll do a post about it. Plus, this scene has Tom Hiddleston dancing. Hello swoon!! (This was the only clip I could find with Tilda's speech before they dance, which I also love, so I apologize for the subtitles.)
The past week has been really interesting to me. I'm hesitant sitting here at our kitchen table, wanting to post something (in my mind) quite bold. But, I did say if my experiences can help someone else, I'm happy to share. So on that note, here we go. This will be very open and raw.
After losing our darling Peach, I was given antidepressants. I didn't ask for them specifically, my OB offered a prescription and Husband thought they could help. I figured he saw how I was doing more clearly than I saw myself. After some hesitancy, I decided it would be okay for me to take them. This was a big deal for me. While I feel that I've struggled with depression long before this whole thing, I always prided myself on being able to handle it on my own. I didn't want to have to rely on a pill messing with my serotonin or dopamine levels. But, ultimately I took them. And at first I wasn't sure if they were helping. I knew they were working, as I had lovely side effects like headaches and dizziness. I was Leslie Knope on flu medicine.
Shortly after Dr. C gave me my prescription, (Zoloft, to be specific) Husband went to a family PA for reasons of his own that aren't mine to share. I came with because he asked me to. And for the sake of not having a ridiculously long blog post we'll skip to this: the PA suggested switching medications for me since I wasn't feeling like myself. I wasn't sure I wanted to. It scared me. I was already playing with neurotransmitters, and I wasn't sure I wanted to change, for fear of how I might feel. I can't really explain specifically what scared me, but I waited a few months while the PA's suggestion haunted me and eventually bit the bullet. Side note here: I do not like going to the doctor. Nope nope nope. I adore my OB, but I would still get nervous before every appointment. I also really like this PA, but again, I still get nervous every time I go. But anyway, the PA gave me Prozac. This made me feel pretty crappy, as I was hoping he would give me the okay to go off the antidepressants entirely. I gave it a shot with the Prozac, unsure if the fact that I was feeling slightly better was due to the medications or just time passing. It was late May at this point. I really wanted to feel better, but I was still having some side effects. So I gave the office a call, and my medication changed again to Celexa. This really didn't make me happy. My poor brain probably didn't know what hit it. With no relief of the side effects, I went to see the PA to say I'm done with antidepressants. And wonderfully, he listened and thought I was at a good point to see how I did taking everything out of my system.
So this week has been my first with no meds. And you know what? I feel amazing. I did it, guys!!! Looking back now, I don't feel the same sadness I did. The situation still sucks out loud, but I have this renewed sense of strength. It's somewhat difficult to explain. The title of this post comes from a song by Bon Jovi. (Really, are you that surprised? If I ever get to meet that man, I will give him a huge hug and say thank you. And probably cry. Then ask him to sign my guitar.) The song is called Brokenpromiseland and it comes from The Circle album. The full bridge says "Rise, my fallen angel. Come on, now. Shine, don't let them break you." Check it out if you'd like, it's one of my favorites from that album. But I remember so many people telling me I'm a strong woman when I was in the hospital, and at the time I didn't get it. I didn't see it. I was sitting on the edge of my hospital bed crying out of fear, not pain, as I got my epidural. Supposedly the anesthesiologist told my mom I'm a very strong girl afterwards, but again, I didn't feel it. Now I do. And it's fantastic. While my life at this moment is far from perfect, and not at all where I thought it would be at this time, dare I say it? I'm happy. Something the PA said when I was explaining how I'd much rather be doing the analyzing than be analyzed kind of smacked me upside the head. It wasn't anything I hadn't heard before, but you know how sometimes things finally get through to where they're supposed to and smack you? That's what it was. He said that sometimes we need to be on this side of the table (gesturing to where I was sitting) and that's okay.
We can't (I can't) help others until we first help ourselves. And I now feel like I've done that, and I'm much more prepared to help those around me. It's not selfish. I'm not ashamed of my story and the things that I did to get to this point. I want nothing more than to use this strength to help those who may be feeling the things that I've felt, and really can't be understood unless you've been there yourself. And because I feel like songs say the things that I want to better than I can about 90% of the time, I'm going to end this post with another Bon Jovi song. Same album, but this one's called Learn to Love. It's helped me through many difficult times, not just this most recent one. Please take a few minutes to listen to it. From my heart.
I watched the movie Rent for the first time in a few years last weekend. Ever since then I've had songs and bits of the show running through my mind. Not complaining one single bit. I adore that show and its music and its message. (If you only know Rent by Seasons of Love, you're missing out.) Rent is also packed full of incredible talent. I believe the stage version came before the movie, and these people are phenomenal. Musicians first, actors second. Not like the Les Mis movie that came out a few years ago-actors first, musicians second (if you're lucky). Ugh. Les Mis is one of my favorite musicals and I think that movie did it a huge disservice. But, I won't go into that rant here. Generally I really like musicals, but only six have made it to my highly exclusive list of favorites. Rent's on that list as well, so now you know two of the six. Maybe one day I'll explain that list, but I digress.
To me, Rent screams acceptance of everyone, regardless of their outward appearances, sexual preference, past mistakes or experiences. This is something I wish we had more of as a people. I've run into too many people who judge an individual based on what they see before they even get to know them. And it drives me nuts. You know what? Those people with piercings, tattoos, and/or crazy hair are some of the nicest and most accepting people you will ever meet; at least in my experience. The ways they've chosen to express themselves outwardly does not make them bad people or freaks. Let's look at the characters in Rent: we've got a lesbian couple, two straight guys, a straight girl who works at a strip club for a living, a drag queen, and another gay guy who ends up in a relationship with said drag queen. A few of them have AIDS. One is fighting a drug addiction. Are any of them bad people? No. Heck, one of the cutest love songs I've ever heard is in Rent, and it's sung by two men. All these people come together and form their own version of a family and accept each other despite their pasts and flaws. How I wish more people did this. How quick we are to judge and condemn a person based on one little detail about them, ignoring all else. Folks, when we do that, we are missing out on some amazing relationships.
I'm not trying to be preachy, so I apologize if I'm coming off that way. This is just something I'm very passionate about. Just please, let's try to be a little more accepting and loving of everyone. Many people are fighting demons we know nothing about. Take a moment to get to know someone a little more and your life will become so much richer.
I wanted to post one of the songs from the musical to show how wonderfully brilliant it is, but it is so hard to choose! Ultimately, I decided to showcase a very simple one. Background to the song is that the people in the circle singing have AIDS and are at an AIDS support group. Musically, it is so simple. It's just a round. Four lines. Yet it gets me teary every time. That right there speaks for how powerful the rest of the songs in the show are.
And, since I don't want to leave things on a somewhat sad note, (haha pun) here's Seasons of Love. (Check out the crazy high note at 2:55!!)
Earlier today, I saw something from someone who said they didn't like the new Avengers movie. This is the first negative response to the movie I have seen. To this person, it was more of the same. This got me thinking and the gears in my head turning. Obviously, it shares many things with the first Avengers movie, but that's to be expected--Age of Ultron is a sequel. The trend that I'm seeing way too much of (in my opinion) in movies is the post apocalyptic end of days type movies. Movies where a supreme force, usually the government, is trying to create a utopia and suppresses everyone--except for our heroic main character. Our main character does not fall prey to these collectivist ideas and ultimately breaks down the corrupt leadership. The message is always the same. Break away from the mindless crowd and fight the oppression of authority. I'm not saying these movies are bad, I've enjoyed some of them, however it is getting old. So the question I'm always asking myself is why? Why are these movies doing so well? Why do we seem to respond so well to them?
I have a few different ideas floating in my head as to why this is the case right now. Firstly and simply, Hollywood is out of ideas. They're remaking almost anything they can think of (we're on round 3 of Spiderman movies for crap's sake) for lack of new fresh ideas. And these movies have done well, so might as well try to get as much money out of the idea as they can.
Or, we as a population are fed up with the government and those in authority. I can't speak for everyone, and I'm definitely not trying to, but there does seem to be an increase in these attitudes. We see a lot of examples of this through the media, and I don't feel the need to rehash them here.
Running along the same path of our frustration with authority is the inner desire to rebel and fight back. But we've all been taught that if you fight against government and laws, you often end up in jail and possibly even killed depending on the severity of your offense. That's where these movies come in. The main characters in these movies go against rules and laws and don't get punished. In fact, usually the opposite happens. They are praised and given anything their hearts could desire and the world is healed and wonderful again. We can live vicariously through characters like Triss Prior (Divergent) and Jonas (The Giver). Quick side note-I know The Giver has been a book long long before it was made into a movie, and long before the Divergent series was written, it's just an example that came to mind quickly. We can feel like our desires have been fulfilled without doing anything that may get us into sticky situations. And who doesn't like to see good prevailing over evil? Even I do, even though I do love me a good villain. More on that in another post. And it's uplifting to see the "power of one" put into action. Oftentimes we can feel as though just one person could never make a difference in this world and it can be nice to see those feelings proven wrong.
Not to mention these movies tend to have a very strong sense of individuality, and we are all looking for something to set us apart from the pack. Whether it's a talent, a tattoo, a piercing, hair color, or different way of performing a common task. We all want to be seen as different from the crowd, yet not so different that we are no longer part of the crowd. The crowd is comfort. Assuming those in the crowd share generally the same thoughts and feelings as you do. And in these movies, the crowd has become so enmeshed that individuality becomes virtually non existent. Eventually that one person pushes back and we get a blockbuster. That one person shows us it's okay to be different and not be afraid to entirely be ourselves because in the end, it is what will save the world. The similarities between these types of movies and superhero movies is not lost on me, I know I mentioned The Avengers at the beginning of this post. But I'm not going to dive into those now, maybe in a later post. Until then, hopefully I got you thinking just a little bit. :)
Alright, there's something that I've got to say. I am so sick of those who have kids complaining about their kids. Now I know that not every parent does this, but those that do, SHUT UP. Look around you. Realize that maybe there are those close to you who would give anything to have what you do. Don't whine that you can't go see the movies you want to. Don't tell me you really really want a little girl while ignoring your beautiful boy, or vice versa. Don't tell me you're so sick of being pregnant, or whine that you feel like a whale. You know what?? I would have died to be in your situations. And I am not lying or exaggerating. The physical risks to me were very real, but I didn't care if I could just get our sweet Peach here. And that still didn't happen. I have a pile of unused baby clothes in a closet that I can hardly look at without getting teary, but oh I'm so sorry your child is keeping you from going out with friends. SHOVE IT, AND JUST BE GRATEFUL YOU HAVE THE BLESSING OF CHILDREN. It is so incredibly insulting and offensive to listen to you gripe about the one thing I want more than anything in the world and was denied. You have absolutely no sympathy from me.
A lot of the time, that word invokes unpleasant feelings for people. Memories of high school gym class and the dreaded mile run, feelings of breathlessness and exhaustion, and feeling completely blobbish instead of healthy-and running is supposed to help you feel healthy! I am definitely included in this group that groans when thinking of running. So why bother even going?
Personally, I've wanted to like running for years, but I've never really worked to actually achieve that goal. I've always envied those who go for runs to clear their minds and actually enjoy it. The summer before I got married, a friend and I did Jillian Michaels DVDs pretty religiously. And while those whipped our butts, running is so much more intense. For real, I would almost rather do burpees. Actually, no, probably not. Those are awful. Effective, but awful. Like running!!
I guess a fairly obvious reason to get out and run, and one that many people use, is to lose weight. And while that would be nice, that isn't my main motivator to get moving. I admit I'm not too pleased with my post baby body, but most everyone tells me I've lost the baby weight, so I guess I'm the only one who really sees the differences. Either way, I'm not letting it consume my mind as the ultimate goal of running. I feel like if I do, I'll be setting myself up to be disappointed. Sure, it would be amazing to look like those long and lean women, but I just don't think that will ever happen for me. And I'm not making excuses here. I'm simply saying I don't think I have the genes to get that body type. And guess what? I'm okay with that. By now you're probably really wondering if I'm actually going to answer my question of why run. Here are my reasons: (And full disclosure, this post is mostly for me to refer to when I lack motivation)
For my future babies. This is my main motivator. I want to be healthier for better pregnancies, and to be an example to my little ones.
That glorious warm shower or bath afterwards
To eventually learn to like it. I'm determined, dang it!
To look better in my workout clothes
To not feel guilty about that extra brownie
To keep up with Husband
To not feel self conscious buying workout clothes
To have a natural anti-depressant
To be proud of myself
While I'd like to have a longer list, this is where I'm starting out. And while this list is mainly for me, if it helps anyone else who may be reading and struggling with motivation, great!!
Well, I'm back. I'm not going to give all the details of where I've been on here for the entire world to read at leisure and judge. I will say that I miscarried and lost our first sweet daughter at 22 weeks gestation in early February. I still get a very real pain in my chest as I read and reread that sentence. If you want more details than that, ask me personally. I'm happy to share privately. If anything I've learned from this horrid experience can help someone else, I am more than happy to do so. But now I find myself in the all too familiar predicament of what I am to do with my life. Everyone has been telling me to take this time to take care of myself, and do whatever I want. Well, that's just it. I don't know what I want to do. At this moment I do know I would like to send out some thank yous:
Thank you to all our family and friends who have been incredibly supportive through this ordeal. It really means the world to us.
Thank you Dr. C for absolutely everything. I didn't think I'd get to have you back, but I did. And I am tremendously grateful for that.
Thank you to all my amazing nurses. You all are incredible women.
Thank you Billy Idol for your recent single, Can't Break Me Down. It's been my power song lately to remind myself that I can do this. (Judge away....)
Thank you Disneyland for being our reset button vacation spot.
I'm sure that I've forgotten someone or something, my apologies. Throughout the past few months, I've been told time and time again that I am a strong woman. I'm doing my best to remind myself of that and focus on my inner strength. And I guess ultimately, that's what I want to do with my life. For others, not necessarily myself. I'm not sure how to go about doing that though. There are lots of different options out there. For now, I guess I'll use this blog.
Yes, it's true. This pregnancy is now considered high risk. Something I never expected to have to face, but I'm doing my best to navigate this completely new territory. In the process, I've learned a few things:
When your doctor first says the phrase "high risk", a siren will sound in your head.
You're going to go to the doctor A LOT. I will have seen a doctor every week this month by the end of Friday.
Those routine pregnancy tests you once worried about (ie the dreaded glucose test) will fall to the back burner of your mind.
People will tell you to focus on taking care of yourself and the baby. This will feel weird. Really weird and slightly selfish at times.
You'll quit your job in order to try to do this and you'll feel really conflicted about it.
Some people will treat you like you're very fragile. Some people will act as if nothing about this pregnancy is different from a normal one. Whether or not either of these is intentional, I can't be sure.
Having an MRI isn't as bad as you may have thought, but it's not something you'll want to do again.
People will come out of the woodwork and continually amaze you with their support.
There will be days when you're excited and feel everything will turn out beautifully. There will also be days when you're scared out of your mind.
It will be a big challenge to decide who to tell what, if anything, about this journey. You'll want to talk, and yet at the same time, you'll want to be alone and distract yourself.
You'll do everything in your power to make sure this little baby makes it into the world safely.
Dr. C,
Maybe it's weird for me to be doing this, maybe it happens more than I realize. But it doesn't matter. I want to say thank you.
Perhaps you don't remember me simply by hearing my name. I was the first time mom who got the news that her little daughter has something called a sacrococcygeal teratoma last week. I was the redhead who was vivacious and happy when you entered the room, and soon became very quiet and somber as you sat next to her and told her the news. I was the one who sat stunned faced while her husband asked loads of questions. You could probably tell I was in a state of shock. You could probably see the tears burning behind my eyes, wishing to fall. But I wouldn't let them, you didn't need that in your day. I know you've probably given many new moms diagnoses much worse than mine. I know it wasn't easy for you to burst our bubble, and I didn't want to make you feel worse by having to see my tears. Thank you for the way you did approach the situation, and your concern for me, my husband, and our baby. That concern was obvious from my first appointment.
You smiled at me in the hall that first day, probably unaware that I was going to be your patient. When my husband told you I have a phobia of needles and your response was "Bless your heart!" instead of the snarky "Well, you'd better get used to them!" that I expected, I was surprised. When you came back to give me the standard pregnancy do's and don'ts during my blood draw in an attempt to distract me, I was surprised yet again. But it became clear to me very quickly that you saw me as a whole person, not just a patient. I had gotten used to the way you like to do things, and I felt so comfortable in your care.
Now here I am with an appointment to see a specialist you referred me to tomorrow afternoon. I'm sure this person will be competent and tell us the things you couldn't. I've been reassured plenty of times that they will be understanding and helpful and the best option for bringing our little girl into the world safely. And all that is probably true. But it won't be the same. I had complete faith and trust in you being the one to help our daughter come into this world. I was willing to have you see things that most people I care about shouldn't see. And now it won't be you. I can only hope I'll like this new specialist and they'll make me feel as comfortable as you did. Thank you for everything. I don't want to replace you, but I guess I have to. This letter isn't conveying my feelings adequately, but I'll just end it here. I'm truly grateful for the influence you've had on my first pregnancy. Thank you for making things easier and calming my nerves. I hope I can find another OB when the time comes who treats me as well as you have.
