63 and falling

Hi.

It has been better in the past couple of weeks, but man... I just really struggle with being a parent and a spouse. It is not my favorite roles. I don't know that I have a favorite role, but these aren't it.

I like my kids and my husband enough most of the time, I just don't want to have to exist here in this space in these roles all the time. It is the *constantness* of it all. I am always doing and failing and trying and sucking at it all.
There is no coasting. No just being. Everything is communicated and negotiated and parented and pleaded and begged and retaliated and on and on.

I watched my siblings be spouses and parents, which I'm grateful for because it really helped me have a realistic view of what it would be, but man oh man, it is night and day when you're the one in the hot seat.
Even just having to think about meals and snacks and what to feed someone ALL THE FREAKING TIME is beyond any interest level I have in the topic. I do it, of course, but blarghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Like every hour and a half I have to do this. EVERY HOUR AND A HALF FOR YEARS. If I'm not actively preparing food, I am thinking about it. And I have been on various medications for the past few years that kill my appetite, at one point to the point of repulsion, which is extra fun. I don't want to eat, but I have to plan out and execute meals for you. And then meal plan for the rest of the week. And then grocery shop for those meals. And on and on.

I suck at all of the things. And I'm only getting worse at it. Cleaning, organizing, preparing, remembering, executing, maintaining, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh.

I can't keep a space clean and organized to save my very life. Gun to my head, pick up this living room and keep it clutter-free for a week? I'm 100% deceased. Though the clutter and chaos makes me batty.

I am as textbook severe ADHD as I could be, not for a lack of trying. Which makes it so much worse, because though I can't keep anything organized, it makes me visibly and audibly angry when everyone else in the house doesn't try to. 
Derrick's idea of a clean house is an empty house, and he is constantly making the world aware that he would rather throw everything away, rather than organize things. WHICH STRESSES ME OUT.

Stop the world, I want to get off. Is there a pause button? I just need a pause button.

I have started to plan out Easter baskets, because if I'm not planning for something fun in the future I am bored to the point of hating everything. Even if I plan it with intentional preparation and attention to details and shop everything with months or weeks to spare, Derrick will quickly choose some random things like the week or day before, like he does for all the holidays. So...yeah.
I'm thinking something to color with, something to construct (but not Lego, because I'm not ready for that), and a Spring outfit. They have had more than plenty of candy every single day of their lives thus far, so I'm not sure I'm going to do a lot of that. We'll see.

--------------

Today we woke up to it so cold in the house. The thermostat said 65, but my toes said 25. After some conferring with Mom, I called the people who had installed the heater in 2017 and they came out to check on it. Apparently some sensor had overheated and burned through its insulation? Something like that. So they replaced that. Yayyyyyyyy!

Jeremiah told me yesterday, "Mom, this might make you cry, but when you die I will go to your funeral. I will go to your funeral and I will cry. Does that make you cry?"
But today he said I am an idiot dummkopf and he will kill me with a gun and that he wishes I wasn't alive, so that's fun. Yayyyyyy for being this kid's mom.

I clicked in Astoria's seat belt and kissed her cheek. She said, "Are you being sneaky? Because I didn't say you could kiss me." Grateful for feeling her body autonomy and standing up for herself, but also, where is my tiny baby and who is this feisty teenager who replaced her?

Anyway. *sigh* I'm going to bed, so I can try to sleep a little bit before I have to do it all over again tomorrow.

Hi, new stack

 Today was a weird day. Far from my normal goings on.

Jeremiah, who has been sick with a back-to-school cold, woke up around 2 a.m. and climbed in our bed. Derrick gave him hugs and kisses and I got up and walked him back to bed and climbed in with him (he has a queen size bed, which is a lot for a 5-year-old, but perfect for a 5-year-old who wants nothing more than he wants cuddles when he’s trying to sleep.)

A few minutes before 4 a.m. I woke up to Jeremiah sniffling profusely and wiping his nose on his sleeves. Kicking myself for not re-dosing his cold medicine when he woke up earlier, I stepped out of the room to grab him tissues and the medicine.

When I came back into the room he was coughing. I gave him the tissues to cough up the phlegm, only to be surprised when he coughed up blood, specifically a blood clot. Shocked, I turned on the flashlight on my phone and saw my son’s face and arms covered in blood. (And many splotches on his blankets.) The dude had a bloody nose! And in the dark we both missed that. Sheesh. Oops.

After we got that taken care of, we were too awake. We cuddled and chatted and eventually I gave in and agreed to play a game on my phone while he watched for a little while. We finally fell back to sleep around 6 a.m.

Astoria woke up at 7 and immediately climbed in the bed on me. After a few wiggly minutes, she got down and struggled to open the bedroom door and she turned on the bedroom light (ugggggghhh) so I was up and Jeremiah woke up.

A few minutes after we settled in the living room together, my mom texted to let me know my Uncle Al had passed away around 6:30 a.m. I had plans to cut his hair tonight, and I had been glad I would get to do that for him and get to say goodbye, and now I wouldn’t be doing that. 

Derrick was working from home, so I went in the office to interrupt his work and let him know. Jeremiah came in with his tablet to let my know he had made me a video. This goofball sweet little kid had vlogged, haha. I have never seen him do or say anything like it before, but my little son made a video of him looking into the camera and saying, “Hi, guys. It’s me, Jeremiah, again. *waves* *deep sigh* Today my mom uncle just died. That. So her is so sad right now inside my dad office. That. *blows 7 kisses* I love you, my mom uncle. *blows 14 kisses*”

No stutter. No tics. No getting stuck at all. Clear words, for the most part. Amazing. Who is this kid? I have never seen him do this sort of thing. I loved seeing what his cute little brain can do and come up with. Obviously we are limiting YouTube even more around here now. I don’t need this kid starting a family vlog, haha.

I got the laundry folded and put in the piles I usually separate: underwear, pajamas, to-hang-up and play clothes. I sent Jeremiah with his pajama stack into his bedroom to put them in his dresser, but I was still folding things. When he came back in the living room, he passed me and quietly said, “Hi, new stack.” to the clothes of his I had folded while he was in the other room.

It’s just a small thing, but it made me laugh so much. Today I saw a new Jeremiah. Today my tiny kid was a funny little boy who has grown in intelligence and wit so much lately. I just love him.

At one point Jeremiah asked if we would approve the download of a new game on the tablet. We said no, and I don’t remember how it came to it but Derrick was saying something about how we’ll need to delete a game to make room for anything new, and then somehow it became (I think because of pushback from Jeremiah? Some sort of feistiness?)  a comment about maybe we should just delete all his games.

I got chatting with Derrick about other things, the online schooling he is working on, my uncle, the laundry. Derrick went back into the office and I went back to folding the laundry. Suddenly my very humbled, sweet 5-year-old handed me the tablet, and explained he deleted all the games but left Disney+ for his sister.

The way my heart fell, I tell you. I immediately said, “Oh sweetheart, we were kidding!” and swept him into a hug. Jeremiah face contorted and he just started weeping. Ugh. I teared up a bit with him. I kept repeating, “Oh you sweet thing. Oh my sweet boy.” This little guy had deleted everything he had been working on all year. The game levels he had proudly completed. The new characters he had proudly earned. His accomplishments on those games were such a source of pride for him. My heart completely broke as I hugged him while he cried.

I asked if he thought he was following instructions? He tearfully nodded. Oh my sweet, sweet boy.

Derrick heard and came in. I explained what happened and Derrick redownloaded the games Jeremiah had been most proud of, and they were indeed erased, he’d be starting over.

My incredibly sweet child said, “That’s okay. Me think it will be 6 days until me get the snake guy again.”, referring to the most recent character he had earned …which had taken several months to earn.

Jeremiah is an incredibly loving, funny, enjoyable kid. (He’s also stubborn and violent and malicious and there’s a moment where you can see the switch flip and he gets this eyes-half-closed smirk and you know you’ve lost him and he thinks, and tells you, he can do anything he wants and “it’s not up to you.” We are working on it.)

I love these two kids so, so much. This afternoon Jeremiah said he wished he wasn’t born yet so he can still be a little baby for me, haha. I explained to him that although I’m a little sad that I don’t have my tiny babies anymore, I absolutely love watching him and Astoria grow up. I love seeing how much they’re learning and really seeing them come into their own. It’s fascinating and delightful.

The ridiculousness

 You have to laugh or you just might lay down and cry, you know?
It's all so dang ridiculous.

At the end of December, after an entire year of maladies and feeling crappy, I got a blood draw and found out my testosterone level was close to non-existent. After researching what that actually meant, I learned that testosterone is involved in not only muscle health, but cognitive function, energy levels, motivation, creating red blood cells, etc. You know, just all the things I have struggled with for AN ENTIRE YEAR. It's cool.

My GP said no to hormone therapy. (For many reasons.)

My psychiatrist basically said "Well no wonder you've been feeling this way." Because ADHD meds aren't going to touch the issue when my hormones are working against me.

My cardiologist/electrophysiologist said no to testosterone replacement therapy, as it would definitely up the chances that I would have heart issues again, like the ventricular tachycardia I had in June.

Cool. Cool, cool, cool.

So what did they tell me to do? Exercise, eat protein, take magnesium, sleep.

Great.

I had been told ALL OF 2022 to "take it easy" and not exercise and please don't lose weight (as that is what caused the flood of estrogen and started all the drama). So I got the OK from my doctor to start working out again. (He said that he doesn't think it'll happen again because of the hormones I'm on now to counteract all that crap, but I'm also at a better starting point now [e.g., not anemic] so we can more easily combat it if it happens.) And then I asked my electrophysiologist during my 6-month follow-up if he was good with that plan, too. Got the OK there, but was told to watch my heart rate and take a break at 120 BPM. I was also told that if I get any weird heart issues again, please email over an ECG and they'll take a look. Ok, great.

Ok, so here's what is going on now. Because apparently there always has to be something...

I started a higher dose of my ADHD medication (which I also got the OK for from the electrophysiologist, at the direction of my psychiatrist. Trying to do it right.) about two weeks ago, which also is right when my son was diagnosed with bronchitis, and the doctor told me to have my little dude use my inhaler. We all had had colds, so I used my inhaler to show my son how it works. Then I used it a couple more times in the following days.

On Friday, about 8 days ago, I noticed my heart was racing when I wasn't doing much. I walked outside to the driveway and back into the house and my heart was 142 BPM. Saturday it continued, I walked downstairs to do a haircut and my heart rate was 151.

Also massive, deep headaches every single day.

Over the weekend Derrick told me to take it easy and not do anything I didn't actually need to do, basically. He asked me to message the cardiologist office, so I did. I explained the annoying heart rate and clarified that I was told to rest if my heart rate was over 120, and asked should I avoid exerting until this stopped? I also explained that I am symptomatic when it's that fast, I'm shaky and starting to sweat if I do anything.

Monday? no reply.

Tuesday afternoon: A call asking me to clarify some details, like do I experience heart palpitations? shortness of breath? (Yes.) She asked me to send an ECG from my watch, so I took a few steps down and back up the staircase and my heart was immediately 140+, so I took the ECG and emailed it to them.

That night I was searching online why in the world this might be happening, and was reading the side effects of my ADHD medication when I came across a warning that it should not be combined with albuterol. Oh yay. More searching about it, and more warnings about how it is a terrible idea and it not only doubles the effect of rapid heart rate and increased blood pressure, oh no, it more than triples it. Cool.

I shot an email off to the cardiology department, to update them on the probability of this being the culprit. 

Wednesday? no reply. 
Derrick mentioned that it must not be a big concern, because they're not acting like it is. Slightly reassuring.
I did a little bit more than I had been -- I wiped off the table and dished up leftovers for the kids for lunch. My heart rate was about 125ish. I reached into the freezer for ice for my drink and suddenly felt what I first thought was just a heart palpitation, but it was sustained, so I worried it was another ventricular tachycardia. I put down my cup and the ice and tested my heart rate on my Apple watch: 199.
CRAP.
I recorded an ECG on my watch and caught the moment it suddenly dropped from 199 to about 116. 

I sent an email with the ECG over to the cardiology department, and explained what happened, and that luckily the reading seems to show it was a supraventricular tachycardia, rather than the ventricular tachycardia I had last year. (in the upper chambers rather than lower. annoying rather than chance of sudden cardiac death. All over way better, in my uneducated opinion.)

Thursday morning: Derrick asked me to call. I really hate calling places who say they'll get back to me. I figure they'll do it when they are ready to, and my calling them is just me annoying them. But hey, those are just some of my fun anxieties.
The woman I spoke with was very kind. I explained that I don't know what I'm doing and if I'm doing the correct thing by emailing like I was told, or if I should be asking for an appointment. She said that they have my communications and the ECGs have been printed and the doctor and his team should be going over them soon and getting back to me, but I could make an appointment if I felt better that way. I said that if this is the routine and they are going to look at it and call me back, then I'm all good.

Thursday afternoon: The electrophysiologist's MA called and said, "The doctor says you're in sinus tachycardia." Um, no duh. "And what he recommends is cardiac conditioning." I asked what that entails, and he responded "30 minutes sustained even ground walking."
MY HEART EXLODES WHEN I WALK FROM THE COUCH TO THE BATHROOM, AND HE WANTS ME TO GO ON 30 MINUTE WALKS?

I explained my concern that my heart rate is HIGH when I'm walking around and it's making me not feel well... but is it ok if I do that for 30 minutes sustained? Like, that's not going to create more problems?

The MA said, "Good question. Hold off on the 30 minute walks for now. I'll ask the doctor about that and get back with you."

I explained that I have exercise-induced asthma, and I need to keep my inhaler around if I'm working out, so I'm really just needing to know if I am needing to stop ADHD medication altogether? 

Again, told it was a good question, he'll confer with the doctor about this and get right back with me.

Friday: Derrick was adamant I needed to call. I did not want to call. I called.
The woman explained that calling/hounding is sometimes needed, especially going into the weekend. She said they have a break from clients in late afternoon and she'd let them know I'm following up and my specific question of if I should still be avoiding taking my meds.

Friday evening: Got a call stating that the doctor said with my many questions, I should be coming in for an appointment. * GIANT FACEPALM, EVERYONE. GIANT.*
So I was set up with an appointment for late next week. sigh.
The woman on the phone said I could possibly be seen sooner, if I wanted to see the RN instead of my electrophysiologist. I said I don't care who, as long as they can answer the question of if I should be taking my medication or not. She said, which absolutely killed me, "They'll have to go over everything you're taking and make sure there wouldn't be any interactions or anything."

I just... 

It's just...

LAUGH OR YOU WILL CRY, that's all it comes down to.

This is the same electrophysiologist who I spoke with about the mildly pinched aorta that was discovered on my echocardiogram, and I asked if it is something to be concerned about and he said no, because if it was I would already be symptomatic. I said that I learned the symptoms of it mirror exercise-induced asthma, which I've had for 20 years... And he replied that often when people think they have exercise-induced asthma it is all this extra weight I'm carrying around.

:O

I told him that I haven't always presented as the size I am today, and I was symptomatic when I "was a kid and more like 5'5 and a buck thirty."

So it's just another fun interaction with this whole team.

Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me

 2022 is trying to kill me. I'm fine, I really am. I'm just *also* not fine.

I was getting pretty anemic throughout December, but felt okay until my heart started racing with the slightest exertion. Stood up and walked into the kitchen? 125. Made my kids lunch? 140. My usual resting heart rate is around 55-60, so this is a jump.

My skin really dried out. Honestly, no complaints there. Soft clear dry skin? Oh dang it. My coloring went pale. My lips faded out to almost nothing. But then my brown/green/hazel eyes stood out more, which is different. They're usually the most forgettable and boring.

Mid-December my doctor put me on a hormone medication to help the whole situation, which made me feel absolutely terrible. Christmas morning I opened presents while holding a small trash can, in case I threw up. I spent all of Christmas laying on the couch, I felt so gross.

January came around and I only felt crappier. Beyond the usual exhaustion and rapid heartbeat I'd been dealing with, the anemia brought a few extra things: my heartbeat whooshed in my ears all day, I developed TMJ and couldn't chew anything without having to basically manually move my jaw, I got random muscle spasms all day, I was absolutely freezing all the time. I also learned that iron deficiency can cause the darkening of eyelids -- my natural eyeshadow.

January 3rd I went to see my doctor because I had called to ask how much iron I should be taking, and they (smartly) said I needed to be seen. I had scheduled a haircut with my nephew, Parker, for that day. I asked Parker if he could keep an eye on my kids while I ran to the appointment, and then I'd come home and cut his hair, and he agreed.

The medical assistant pricked my finger and got other vitals before the doctor came in, so when he came strolling into the room he already knew the situation and immediately said, "Well, this is really bad." My hemoglobin was 6.4 -- in the "life-threatening" category. Oops.
The doctor said if we weren't in a global pandemic and a blood shortage, he would be sending me right down to the ER to be admitted and get a blood transfusion.

He asked if I'd fainted or anything like that, I said no. He gave me strict instructions to take it easy. He sent me down to the phlebotomist for a CBC blood panel and then set me up with a follow up appointment two days later.

I came home and cut Parker's hair, like I'd promised.
I walked him to the door, said my goodbyes, then fainted.
Oops.

I looked dead.

My blood panel came back a bit better than the quick finger prick test revealed, but still terrible.
My red blood cells were "panic critical low", my hemoglobin came up to 7.4 -- yay, up to the "severe" category from the "life-threatening", and it turned out my body was releasing immature red blood cells because I was in such trouble.

So I was put on not-quite-bed-rest and told to shut down my business for at least a month. January was long and short all at once. I couldn't lift the kids. I could only walk around for a few minutes at a time. Luckily Derrick was still working from home then, so he would do what he could to help me out with the kids when he was on breaks.
Very kind friends brought over meals and snacks, which were SO HELPFUL as well as morale-boosting.

The fun continues...

My son starting throwing up in mid-February. Then my daughter. Then my husband. I was the hold-out for a good day or two, and then I, too, succumbed.
We were worried about our little dude because he vomited 21 times over a few days, but the doctor's office said to just keep him hydrated. 

After the week of catching vomit in my hands and cleaning up diarrhea puddles from leaky diapers, we all started with the sniffles, and soon we all had fevers and what felt like bad colds.

March 1st, I was having a hard time breathing, so I messaged my doctor's office and they said to do a Covid test, keep an eye on my oxygen with a pulse oximeter and if it got below 90, head down to the ER.
I asked my brother, Clarke, if he'd be willing to take me to the ER if I needed to go overnight, and he agreed. I got down to the high 80s when I was going to bed, but I was so not in the mood to deal with the embarrassment and second-guessing myself that would be involved with that.

Wednesday, March 2nd, I was feeling so rundown. Derrick was home from work because he was also still sick, and so we were all sitting in the living room first thing in the morning. I kept falling asleep and just couldn't stay awake, it was such a struggle.
Derrick kept asking me to check my oxygen and suggesting I go to the hospital. Mlehhhhhhhh. I told him that I was going to shower first, and then I'd think about it.
I was fine in the shower, but when I got dressed and walked into the kitchen, I plonked my head down against the refrigerator and declared that I was going to faint. Derrick made me sit down and close my eyes for a while and declared I needed to go to the hospital.

My sweet friend, Cirina, picked me up and took me down to the ER. When I checked in my oxygen was about 86, when they triaged me it was 81 when walking.
They tested for EVERYTHING.
They took 9 tubes of blood. They took a chest x-ray. They did a ct scan.

After a few hours, there was an answer! Human metapneumovirus pneumonia.
Apparently, like Covid, metapneumovirus is usually cold-like symptoms, we just lucked out to the be of the percentage of those who got the full-body response. Cool, cool.

I was admitted for the night. The ER doctor thought I'd be in the hospital for about 5 days, but the lung doctor was all sorts of not interested in my case -- he was pretty much decided that I was fine because my oxygen was 100 when I had an oxygen cannula, so he sent me home.
I was definitely not okay, despite the delightful lung doctor's assessment. I slept for the next five days.

(My parents came to town and my mom helped my still-sick husband care for our on-the-mend kids. Such a helpful relief. There is no way I would've been able to just sleep for days on days otherwise.)

And so it continues...

During the brouhaha in the hospital, it was found that my heart was enlarged. Cardiomegaly, according to the x-ray and ct scan.
During my follow up with my doctor, he did an EKG and set up an appointment for me to go down to a different clinic for a repeat chest x-ray, with instructions to not panic, but also take it easy.

Luckily, the new x-ray showed my heart was now at normal sizing. Hallelujah.

In May and June I became anemic again. Woohoo!

At the end of May we learned that Derrick's Grandma, or Oma, was declining in health. We had no idea she was doing so poorly, so it was a painful thing to learn. We decided to pack up the family and drive out to Colorado for the weekend.

On the evening of June 2nd, I had been shopping for road trip snacks and prizes and things to keep my small children occupied during this sudden long time in the car.
I took several trips back and forth between the car and house and came back out to close the hatch of the van. As I reached up I felt the familiar rush of the racing heart beat of heart palpitations. However, this time it just kept going. No stumble back to regular rhythm after a moment. For five solid minutes my heart just POUNDED, fast and furious.

202 beats per minute. Terrifying. Luckily I was wearing my Apple Watch and caught it on ECG.

I finally told my doctor about it a few weeks after our trip. He immediately had me come in and tried to drill into me the importance of taking it seriously.

He sent my ECG to a cardiologist/electrophysiologist, who immediately responded "I can see why you are so concerned." and asked my doctor to send over my information and they'd set me up with an appointment as soon as possible.
I was completely freaked out, and also stupidly embarrassed that all this was happening and now these guys had to take time out of their day to deal with me.

The electrophysiologist diagnosed it as sudden ventricular tachycardia and set me up with an echocardiogram, which went okay until the woman tried to put in an IV for contrast. Three attempts and then she said, "Well I'll tell them I tried." hahaha

The results showed that my heart is really strong, a great muscle. Except for this one little thing: a birth defect of the aorta. Cool, cool. So I have a mild coarctation, or my aorta is a little pinched.
In my research, I learned that the symptoms of that include exercise intolerance, chest tightness, difficulty breathing, etc. Um, hi. For most of my life I've been told I have exercise-induced asthma...which inclused chest tightness, difficulty breathing, etc... So I'm pretty convinced it has had more to do with my narrowed aorta than my lungs.

The cardiologist/electrophysiologist is pleased with the strength of my heart, but I'm still supposed to be taking it easy and "now is not the time" to add to my heart's workload. I am supposed to stay super hydrated and get a ton of sleep (hahahaha) and I have to remove outside stressors as much as I can and avoid caffeine for now, at least.
Because I have not had a history of high blood pressure, he is not concerned with my narrowed aorta at this time, but it's something I need to keep an eye on and get it rechecked every 6 months. Yay.

So overall, I've spent two-thirds of 2022 having to "take it easy" while struggling to breathe with a racing heart.

2023, I'm begging, please be gentle.

You're just a lot

This is how I feel: Angry.

37 years of struggling to function at a socially acceptable level of normality, despite really wanting to and trying to, and suddenly finding out that the majority of people don’t have these same brain processes is hard.

Really hard.

“Bye, Susannah, have fun. Remember: don’t speak just to hear your own voice.”

“I realized why he reminds me of you—you both think everything has to be about you.”

“I’d love to be trained in that role! It sounds fascinating.”

“No, we need someone who will actually do the work.”

“Wow, you actually cleaned something up. You can see the floor of your bedroom; was the internet down all day or something?”

“Can you just forget that you were an auctioneer in a previous life?”

“Susannah, I need to see you in my office. You got one of the highest scores, whose test did you copy off of?”

“You’re just…a lot.”

“Sue is fun, but that’s about it.”

“Susannah, while you are there don't dominate the conversation! If you say something, make sure it is of importance, and don't just ramble to make noise!"

“Would you be offended if I sent your name to that show Hoarders? Ba ha ha ha”

“She would be fun to date because it would be fun, but she’s not someone you’d want to be in a relationship with.

“You’ve got a great employee there. Great potential.”

“Yeah…if only we could figure out how to pull it out of her.”

………………..

All real things said to me or about me. All completely misunderstanding my intentions or efforts or abilities.

So yeah, I’m angry. Angry it took so long to understand why everything is so hard. Angry there is still very little understanding and a lot of negative stigma from the general public. Angry I’ve had to work so hard and develop other skills to make up for my inabilities.

I am always *so* hesitant to post about ADHD on social media, but every time I get so many sweet messages thanking me and telling me that it has helped how a friend understands their spouse or child or parent, and encouraging me to continue, so here I am. (Those messages are the best thing ever.)

to do list robot - a roomba for chores - a doomba

 You know what would be awesome? If the giant To Do list in my head had someone to work on it. I mean, I'm certainly not doing it...

How do people get things done? Genuine question. I just started back on my ADHD meds, and am not taking them consistently, so my last month and a half of no stimulants to nudge me along may be guiding this line of thought.

Every room has things I need to work on. Not like wipe-down-a-counter, but like full processes need to happen. I need to create routines, I need to go in depth, I need to completely do PROJECTS. Every. Dang. Room.

Procrastination and Prioritization

I’m standing in front of the sink, staring at the dirty dishes that are filling the basin and counter. I am suddenly aware my hands are tucked deep in my pockets and four minutes have gone by. 

 One month ago, July 19th, I was diagnosed with ADHD and suddenly my entire life made sense. My psychiatrist called me “the poster child for ADHD.” (Severe ADHD, or having several symptoms present beyond the number necessary for diagnosis, which results in marked impairment in home, social, school or work settings. Um hi, it’s me.) 

 I had absolutely no idea what ADHD really is, all I had ever heard about was hyper little boys. I had even heard of executive dysfunction once, and completely related to what little information I heard, but didn’t know the correlation. 

So here I stand, staring at the dishes. I don’t mean staring in the way you take in all of the visual information, I mean staring as in my eyes are pointed that direction, although out of focus, while my mind declares at the rest of me, “This needs to be done. Do it. Just start. Just do the thing.” 

Spoiler: I don’t do the thing. 

Doing boring chores, even if I want it to get done, is like needing to walk up a flight of stairs, but the first step is 10 feet up. Or having all the mental ingredients in the pan but the brain stove is missing the temperature dial. Or like pulling up the memory program for completing the task, but the “run program” command has been disabled. 

I want the thing to be completed. I have the intellectual and physical skills necessary to complete the thing. I can’t do the thing. 

I thought I was a procrastinating lazy git. I thought I just suck at life, at adulting or being a functioning member of society. That was the unsolicited feedback I got from others, so that is what I’d been convinced about myself. 

Besides the struggle to start boring chores, I have learned that just about every single thing I do or say or feel or experience is simply a list of symptoms. I am just a diagnostic list on legs. This threw me into a bit of an existential crisis. Who am I? Do I even have a personality? Is anything unique? (Okay follow this wandering thought: it feels like when you have a baby and as they start to do things it’s not “oh, my baby does this funny thing…”, it’s more like “my baby has started to do that thing where…” Like the quirks and idiosyncrasies are not individual after all. Just following the known behaviors.) 

I’ve got nearly all the issues, almost all the weird little quirks that I learn every day are common or typical ADHD things. Thoroughly surprising me each time. 

In some ways it feels reassuring. Like so many of my negative traits are because of brain wiring and how hormones are created, received, accepted, absorbed, what have you. 

I didn’t realize how easily I’m distracted until it was brought to my attention. I can think a thought while holding a pencil and begin to write down the thought and almost anything will distract me for a split second and I will forget what I was about to write. 

37 years is a LONG time to keep feeling like I know I’m annoying people, but I can’t NOT do the annoying thing. Like finishing someone’s sentence! I do it ALLLL the time. I’ve done it for so, so many years. I don’t even realize it most of the time, usually until the person acknowledges it or if I’m wrong about what they were going to say, hahaha. I’ve been reading other ADHDers experiences with this and it’s so prevalent and a few people have explained it as feeling like we already know what is going to be said and getting impatient with the speed of the conversation. One woman wrote, “…and it’s terrible when I’m right because it seems to encourage the behavior.” 

One other reason we do it, and interrupting in general, which is a huge problem for us, is because when we have something to say we feel a need to say it immediately, before we forget it completely. It’s incredibly hard to hold on to what I’m going to respond AND pay full attention to the rest of what they have to say. …so if we know how the rest of the conversation will go we will speed it up by saying it for you and responding.  

It’s completely impolite. I am well aware of this. But it’s VERY DIFFICULT to curb. 

Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder is so poorly named. It really only expresses how it’s manifestation can annoy others and barely touches on the reality of having a differently-motivated brain. An interest-based nervous system. 

There have been so many times over the past month that I’ve read something in my daily research on this topic and I’ve had such a weird feeling because it’s like someone is describing me to me. They’re saying my brain. They are explaining the thing I can’t explain. It’s unnerving and delightful. There have been things that I’ve known, somewhere in the back of my mind, that I do or experience, but I’ve never told anyone so it doesn’t feel real. Suddenly having someone describe it is so freeing. Oh, I’m not making that up? That’s a thing? Wow. 

Here are some symptoms or things ADHDers struggle with …notice how completely different (and much more debilitating) this list is than just the “attention deficit and hyperactivity” things… 

* Executive dysfunction - This really encompasses most of it, a struggle with the executive functions 

* Lack of focus / focusing on multiple things at once  

* Lack of object permanence. Out of sight, out of mind. This leads to the fun of losing your cell phone, keys, wallet, remote, etc even though you just used it. (I can not count the number of times I’ve left the TV volume up louder than I’d prefer because I couldn’t find the dang remote, despite never moving from the spot I was in when last using it.) 

* Lack of object permanence: people edition. Unfortunately, I can completely forget that people exist. It sounds cruel, but there is no malice behind it. If you’re not around, it’s possible I just forget to think about you. However, this can be a positive for me because friendships always feel like they are just being picked up where they left off. (But it can ruin friendships from the other side, because we go MIA and don’t reach out and all that.) 

* Object blindness. We can set something down on the floor and walk past it for weeks and not “see” it. It’s more of not focusing on it, not paying attention to it. This is part of how our spaces can get so cluttered. Those who are wired normally, or the neurotypical, when trying to give helpful suggestions, advise a forgetful ADHDer to write ourselves a Post-It and put it eye-level on the door, where we “can’t miss it”…um, yes we can. That stuff has to be in our way, steal our attention. So it’s more like we should put reminder Post-Its on the door handle or light switch, where it will hinder something if it’s not paid some attention. 

* Struggle with starting tasks / overwhelm with day to day boring tasks 

* Procrastination and doing our best work in the 11th hour. The last-minute rush is often the only motivator. 

* Working memory problems. Like immediately. People can tell me their name and I will not be able to repeat it to them three minutes later. No idea. People say dumb things like “if you’ve forgotten something it wasn’t very important to you in the first place.” This is not the case with an ADHD brain. It can be the most important thing ever and we will possibly forget it. 

* Addiction / obsession - with things OR with people. I feel called out. 

* Slow to find words / retrieve information 

* Starting projects and hobbies with a lot of excitement and then abandoning them completely. 

* Being indecisive  / Decision paralysis. Even down to choosing lunch from a restaurant menu. 

* Lack of patience / short fuse / emotional dysregulation  

* Feel all the feelings intensely. Heightened emotions are fun when they’re happiness and excitement, but most of the other emotions aren’t as fun to feel so strong. 

* Thinking only in “now” and “not now” 

* Thinking in terms of all or nothing  

* Poor time management / not fully understanding time. Being convinced you can do more things in a short amount of time than is actually possible. 

* Prioritization issues - what do you do first when everything is the highest priority? Or when you’re mid-task and suddenly a different task feels like it takes higher priority? Get overwhelmed and get nothing done, usually. 

* Disorganization - bedroom, car, locker, office, desk, all of it 

* Irritability & mood swings 

* Hyper-focusing on a project to the point of neglecting needs. 

* Getting a project 80% finished and struggling with the last 20% of nitty gritty detail work. *cough*the current state of my studio*cough* 

* Never mentally just in the moment, fully present - I hated this on my wedding day, I just wanted to exist in the moment and take it all in but struggled and my brain fought against it. Blah. 

* Struggle with self-care acts - I really hate how many steps are involved in showering and how boring it is. And then there’s the whole having to choose more clothes to wear and now there’s dry clothing on a damp body and all that ickyness. And then there’s the need to do something with my wet hair. Telling me to go take a shower is essentially giving me a To Do list with like twelve things on it. Ugh. 

* Binge eating / forgetting to eat. Eating brings with it that sweet hit of dopamine the ADHD brain desires. But it’s also another task, or list of tasks. 

* Oversharing in conversation, the struggle with controlling excitement and volume of voice and laughter. 

* Inability to do small talk when not interested 

* Terrible with finances / impulsive spending  

* Piles of unopened mail / dealing with bills is overwhelming  

* Difficulty with math 

* Poor sleep quality - I have said for years and years that I can’t sleep easily because I can’t turn my thoughts down. In my teens I would listen to music quietly and in my twenties I would always fall asleep with the TV on. Nowadays I fall asleep listening to a podcast almost every night.  

* Bladder issues - did you know dopamine plays a role in the function of muscles in the bladder? That’s something I learned recently. Studies have shown several correlations between ADHD in children and bladder issues. 

* Reduced life expectancy by up to 13 years - impulsivity and distraction don’t always create the safest of situations. 

Then there are the things which are not actually ADHD, but super common comorbidities:  

* Social Anxiety Disorder - Um, yeah. “Hello Darkness, my old friend…” 

* Rejection sensitivity / difficulty getting constructive criticism 

* Sensory issues 

* Auditory processing issues. Several years ago I started questioning if I was losing some sanity. It felt like I wasn’t understanding my own language. Are they speaking English and I’m not actually paying as close attention as I think I am? Is everyone mumbling? So rough. I started trying to read lips, which helps, but I need closed captions in real life. The conversations wherein I’m struggling to figure out what my husband is saying (while staring right at him) are the ones that spiral quickly into frustration for both of us. “What did you say?” “[Garbled words]” “One more time?” “Never mind.” “No, really, I want to know. What did you say?” “It doesn’t matter!” “Ugh, just tell me again!”  

ADHD is a recognized disability, and as such can be accommodated for by employers. I wish I had known. 

There are so many who do not agree with using the term disability, and prefer to think of ADHD as “thinking differently” and “a superpower” …well this superpower of mine just lost my kids their health insurance. (I forgot to turn in some paperwork to the company, I think? I don’t remember and probably didn’t open the letter and have now lost it.) Gee whiz, I love this superpower of mine!!! 

Maybe it’s the geek in me, but I think of the term disability in the way something is disabled in tech, such as disabling autocorrect on your phone. 

Parts of my brain have very much been disabled. I can not use them in their proper function. 

Watching others maintaining this (has-got-to-be-forced,-right?) cheer cheer everything-is-awesome outlook on ADHD feels like a gut punch when THIS SUUUUUUUUUUCKS. 

There are perks, sure. The creativity and problem-solving and ability to learn and resourcefulness and entrepreneurial drive and all that. But being too much, too loud, too lazy, too impolite, too messy, too forgetful, blah blah blah gets old. Always feeling misunderstood and weird isn’t fun. Always having the line of a song repeating in your head while you jump from thought to thought at a ridiculously fast rate is mentally exhausting. Masking your quirks while trying to act “normal” leads to burn out really quickly.  

But no, don’t be negative, don’t use it as an excuse! You have SUPERPOWERS! 

Mlechhhhhhh, I’m exhausted. 

—————————————————— 

“Everyone is a little ADHD.” No. You’re wrong. Just shut up. Everyone has moments where they are distracted or forgetful or whatever, but that isn’t the same as when it is all constant and rules your life and your brain isn’t getting the dopamine it needs. And there have been studies finding physical differences in brains with ADHD wiring. (Smaller brains, fewer dopamine receptors, etc) 

“If you can focus on fun things you can focus on work!” No, I can’t. That’s literally the problem.  

“That’s no excuse for…” But yes, it is. It’s at least an explanation. This is how my brain works. I can be aware and fight it, use work-arounds, take medication, eat the right nutrients, get the right amount of sunlight and exercise, etc. But that doesn’t actually make me think and act “normal”, it just, you know, helps. 

—————————————————— 

So this will be a journey as I figure out what work-arounds are successful for me. My psychiatrist recommends I not *fight against* my brain, but lean in to my weaknesses instead. Understand my need for the frantic last-minute feeling and trick myself with false deadlines (or throw a party and invite some people over, that’ll get me cleaning!) 

I have to be fully self-aware all the time if I am to use my weaknesses to my advantage or if I am to avoid being what the neurotypical person considers inconsiderate or rude. I’m tired just thinking about it. 

That's what happens

*sigh*

Near the end of April I was so nauseated that I carried a small trash can around the house with me, and even made sure the little trash can was right next to my bed, within grabbing distance, when I went to sleep.
Derrick semi-joked a few times, "Are you pregnant?" and "Are you sure you're not pregnant?" and I responded that we will wait and see and that we would known soon either way.

Having a freshly-made 4-month-old baby, the idea of being pregnant again so soon was overwhelming. But awesome? But overwhelming.
We discussed it a lot. At one point I asked Derrick if he would be mad if I was. He kind of said yes then said not mad per se, but ugggh.
A few days later when talking about it he came to the conclusion of "That'd suck. I mean, Yay, new family member. But that'd suck." I soon was less of the "that'd suck" frame of mind, and more of the "yay, new family member" one.

Along with the nausea I started getting so. dang. sweaty. Wake up? Forehead glistening. Scramble eggs? Feel a drip down the small of my back. Do a haircut? SWEAT DRIPPING OFF MY EYELASHES INTO MY EYES, POURING DOWN MY FOREHEAD AND DRIPPING OFF MY CHIN.

Overly dramatic sweat glands.

I was feeling pretty blech and bloated so I decided to take a pregnancy test. I didn't tell Derrick I was doing it.

I watched the second little line pop up within about 3 minutes and my heart and stomach did about 74 different reactions.

Oops?
But also WAHOO!
But oops? and also Oh, crap.
But also YAY!

Denial. Shock. Elation.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I made the decision to wait to tell Derrick when I had a darker test. I figured that would probably be first thing the next morning.

That whole night my mind was buzzing. CoronaTot, as the baby was immediately dubbed (Jeremiah was NachoTot and Astoria was WaffleTot), would be born between Christmas and New Years. All of my babies would be December babies. Fantastic. I loved that.

So. Excited.

Redownloaded the pregnancy apps
Glanced over our running baby name list
Thought a lot about how I want to go about talking to Derrick about it. What his reaction might be. If he'd be eventually happy about it, even though it'd be a shock?

-----



The next morning I took another test.

My stomach dropped.

The line was really, really faint.

That's, like, REALLY not the direction that color is supposed to go.

Seven tests. Nine tests?

I took AT LEAST seven tests over about three, maybe four days.

I ran to the store during a quarantine to buy pregnancy tests.

I took seven tests and each time the second line got fainter. Only discernible in person, the camera stopped picking up the details of the second line.

I came out of the bathroom the third day and told Derrick I took a test and it was negative. His reaction was relief. Ouch, that stung.
I told him, "I've got to tell you something, though. It used to be positive."

Then I started crying.

I called my doctor to see if I could get a blood test, just to see what was up. They asked me to come in for a full appointment first. While there they did two dip tests. My doctor came in and asked how quickly I'd been getting positives on my tests and I told him within 3 minutes with the first and longer each time after that.
He said, "Hmmm. I did two tests. The first was negative, the second was positive."

I told my doctor I understood this wasn't proceeding well and I just didn't want to miscarry on Mother's Day. He jokingly responded, "Of course you will, Susannah. That's what happens." I like our doctor.

After lots of discussion, he sent me down for the blood draw for testing to also make sure there wasn't something ectopic or anything like that.


Blood pregnancy test results came back negative. I miscarried on Mother's Day.
I felt pregnant for a couple more weeks. I'm still waiting to feel like my hormones have all figured themselves out yet. It has definitely added largely to my panic issues of late.

Although I knew things weren't going to go well, I am still hurting. It was a quick moment of excitement and almost two months of mourning so far.
So many friends have since announced their pregnancies and each time it stings and want to delete my social media for a while.

I still cry about it, but the weepy days are further apart now.

I talk about CoronaTot occasionally. I glance at the positive tests and wonder what it would've been like.

Derrick seems to be unfazed by it. "If you don't birth them they don't count.", he said. *sigh*

I'm still mourning. Missing what could have been.

A walking disaster

I'm all sorts of a mess as a human, haha.

For the past month and a half or so, maybe a little longer, I've been super anxious. Not nervous-about-something-upcoming, but real heavy anxiety. The kind of anxiety that overwhelms and drowns and is chest-crushing and my daily Prozac can't touch it.
So that's fun.

Luckily my doctor is nice and helpful. Tonight I have a new prescription for a fast-acting thing, hallelujah.

Car Picnics and salty fingers

Having a 2-year-old and an almost-6-month-old is incredibly exhausting. They are my favorite, favorite people, but chasing my monkey around as he destroys the world and purposely wakes up his sister every single time I get her napping is EX.HAUS.TING.

Today I'm trying to clean off the hard drive of this, the old family computer. Yesterday Jeremiah kept running up and turning off the computer while I was on it, which made me bonkersville. So I decided that today I was going to do something different to keep him entertained. I took the kids to Michaels for some craft things that Jeremiah can in his high chair while I am on the computer. We picked out scented markers, 6 Play-Doh colors and a little Fun Factory extruder for him.

I pushed Astoria in the single stroller (because that's the one I had in the car, as I'd been using the double stroller in the garage to wrangle the  kids while I did a haircut on the driveway) and carried Jeremiah on my hip. At least until we entered the store. Then he immediately squirmed his way down and ran down an aisle. Of course. *sigh*
So I chased him, grabbed him, he squawked and loved the way it reverberated off the walls so he squawked again. And again. And again. And cackled. And squawked again. Shuuuushhhhhhhhhhhh, child. Shush.

He squirmed his way down over and over and I had to leave Astoria and chase Jeremiah down an aisle and pick him up so many times. Ugh, child. At one point he dramatically went limp as I grabbed him (we call it "going chicken tender" because he acts boneless) and ended up bonking his face lightly on the ground. It wouldn't have been much of an issue because it was so light, but it was his eye socket so it hurts more. So then he was wailing and I was holding him, trying to shush his screams while comforting him. So fun.

We finally finished up at the store and headed back home with some breakfast from Chick Fil A (after wrestling him into his car seat. Exhausting.) As we were pulling into the neighborhood I noticed that Astoria had fallen asleep and I knew she would wake up as soon as I pulled her out of the car, so I decided we would have a car picnic! Yay, keeping MonkeyBoy out of the house for a few minutes with something different than usual!

We pulled into the shade of a big tree in the church parking lot down the street from the house and I climbed into the back of our station wagon-style car. Eventually MyMy joined me in the back and ate his scrambled egg & chicken bowl next to me, although he wanted to just sit on my lap most of the time. He's such a ridiculously sweet, cute boy. I feel bad that he makes me bonkers so much because he is *incredibly* loving.

He asked me to go to Grandma's house and I had to, yet again, explain that Grandma and Grandpa moved far away and don't live in the house here anymore. So he had me FaceTime her. :) He LOVVVVVVVES Grandma.

My sweet MonkeyBoy was so excited for his Play-Doh and he did so well with it. Derrick was sure he was going to try to eat it, hahaha, so I cracked up when the very first thing Jeremiah did when it plopped out of the little yellow container was lick the Play-Doh, hahaha.

I love these little ones so, so, so much.

Oh lovely. Jeremiah just noticed Astoria fell asleep in my arms so he RAWRRRRRRed at her to wake her up. Great. Here we go again... *sigh*

Astoria Valentine

Oh, hey there. So, uh, I had a baby. We named her Astoria Valentine.
We love the town of Astoria, Oregon and we loved the day trip we got to take there when we were engaged. (Where Goonies was filmed.) Valentine is the name of Derrick's paternal Great Grandpa; he was a...pastor? (I think is the title?) who married Derrick's parents. He was born February 14 and went by Val. Valentine's Day is my very favorite holiday, so the name was for both of us.
-----

Astoria's pregnancy was harder in many ways-- feeling sick to my stomach or headachey almost every day was rough. Then the back pain and hip pain was really difficult. My sweet friend Molly texted me and said she had set up a prenatal massage at her usual place and I just needed to call and set the appointment. That was the best thing ever. It made an immediate difference, and the pain was manageable from there on out. (hallelujah!)

My blood pressure was good or low the whole pregnancy, unlike the last week of growing Jeremiah, so we were planning on just following the Dr's guidance that she'd be taken out near the end of December.
Because I had gestational diabetes (grrr, thanks a lot, placenta) I had to get non-stress tests twice a week. At the first hospital it was fine; they were nice and sweet and it was relatively quick. The second hospital (because of insurance drama which I should write out for my own sanity sometime) was a lot more difficult. They didn't listen to me when I said where they could find her (always, always way higher than they were attempting), and made the bands ridiculously tight, which made them slowly slide up or down. (Y'all really don't know what to do with a little extra flesh, and it shows.)

I had one of these non-stress tests on December 19, which was ridiculous. The nurse was not listening to me and Astoria kept moving away from the sensor. The nurse finally just took some vitals and said my blood pressure is a little elevated but baby seems fine.
I had been having prodromal labor, which is basically real contractions that don't do anything. They don't progress. About three days prior to her birth I had such strong and rhythmic contractions that I started timing them at like 3 a.m., about 1 minute long every 7 minutes or so...they lasted for about an hour but never got anywhere, obviously.

So we went to the appointment with my GP/OB the next day, December 20, and assumed it would finally be the conversation when we'd find out if we could finally schedule the c-section with the hospital for December 27, like we'd hoped (because of wanting to get it all done before the end of the year and beginning of a new insurance deductible) or December 30, like he preferred.

I had had a bad headache the day before or the day before that, but didn't think much of it. I gained weight and got swollen a bit suddenly, but not too bad. I just kinda assumed all was just par for the course.

Our doctor asked questions, and typed a bunch into his computer then sat back and said, "I want you to meet me down at the hospital." Um, what?! I asked, "Like right now? (Like an emergency thing?)" and he shook his head and said "No." *phew!* Relief. Ok, all is well. "Let's say at 12." Ummmm...it was like 10:30. That's pretty much "right now" in the grand scheme of things.

We let my mom know what was going on, as she had Jeremiah in her car and had offered to watch him while we were in the hospital. She picked us up from the doctor's office and brought us back to the house to quickly finish gathering our things in a few bags while she ran to Costco for food items, as everyone was going to be staying at their house around Christmas / Caroline's wedding.
 
One final bump picture before heading to the hospital...

We got to the maternity wing of the hospital and they took us right back to a triage room. They had instructions from my doctor of what he wanted tests for, so they had me gown up and started an IV just in case. They drew blood and did all sorts of tests on it, I guess. It went very quickly, but I guess it was a couple hours later that the charge nurse came in and said that my test results were all good, so they were now waiting on my doctor to confer with the perinatologists and decide what they wanted to do. Derrick and I chatted and both said we would love if we could just do it right then and meet her.

Soon the charge nurse came back and said, "It's a birth day!" and that they were going to do the c-section that afternoon, and I was scheduled for surgery at about 4:30.
Relief and excitement that turned to nervousness and panic as things flew into motion. Derrick gathered my belongings as the nurse walked me down the hall into our temporary room. It was a blur of people and signatures on paperwork for a little bit, as they got all the legalities down. I was started on meds through my IV because it was decided I did indeed have preeclamsia (yikes), and then I had to drink the stuff to settle stomach acids so I didn't throw up and inhale it. (Super tart. Like eating the stuff at the bottom of a big bag of Sour Patch Kids.)

Jeremiah's birth surgery was so mentally traumatic (I really kept hoping I could fall asleep or faint or zone out so I didn't have to be part of it. I hated it so much.) that I was really nervous for going in for surgery again.
Soon it was time! The head nurse walked me to the OR, and had me sit on the operating table and explained how to curl up my spine so the anesthesiologist could give me the spinal block. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and held my head to her chest and spoke quietly in my ear the whole time I had the large needing poking around. She was everything I needed in that moment. That nurse calmed every over the top anxiety I had because of my previous surgery experience.
Other than bumping a nerve with the needle and making my leg kick (such a weird feeling, hahaha), the spinal block worked well and quickly. I laid back on the operating table and got strapped down and felt as ready to go as possible.

My doctor came in and I think Derrick came in all dressed up in his hairnet around then, too. I don't remember him being there until I was all prepped, but I could be wrong about that timing.
Although I felt the spinal block was starting to work quickly, I wasn't convinced I was numb enough for them to slice me open because I thought I could feel my whole body. I was wrong, haha. They poked and asked if I could feel it, but I felt nothing. They began cutting my body wide open and I wiggled my feet around, which is a completely bonkers thing.
Derrick was able to stand (maybe sit?) at the left side of me, at my head, while the anesthesiologist was at my right. As the surgery got underway Derrick was instructed he could stand up and take pictures, which I love. I'm a weirdo, but getting to actually see the insides of me in super fascinating, and getting to see Astoria actually getting pulled out is so cool.

When Story was born the anesthesiologist said, "It's a healthy boy!" Oh...uh... I had a split second of disappointment and then acceptance and excitement. Derrick corrected him, I think. Then he said, "Oh." haha

Astoria gurgle cried and I was glad to be able to hear her. They moved her over to an area to my left and Derrick was able to be right there with her and I could turn my head and see her a little bit between people. With Jeremiah they barely lifted him up enough for me to catch a glance, then took him into a different area so quickly, that I didn't get to see him for several hours, so I was very happy to be near Astoria while they worked on her.

Things seemed...tense. I was nervous. Very nervous. Too many people around her. Too much happening. No one telling me anything. I asked if she was OK and Derrick said they were just helping her get some air. Then he brought over a picture he took of her hair. We had so many conversations about if maybe she'd have blond hair like MyMy (and I did) or if she'd be dark like her daddy. Derrick told me she had dark hair after all.

I was still so nervous. Still too many people around her. Too much going on. She was purple and floppy. They worked on her for what seemed like forever, in reality it was a half hour. A really long half hour.
They brought her over so I could meet her and they had a teeny tiny oxygen mask over most of her tiny face. That scared me so much. I was so glad to get to see her and give her kisses and be with her on the outside after being with her for so many months.

They took her away to the NICU and Derrick went with her while I tried to just zone out while the rest of the surgery happened. I found out later from the nurse that he pulled my uterus up out of my body cavity at one point. So, uh...that's a thing.
The doctor assisting my doctor in the surgery started asking his opinion on a situation with a different patient, which helped me zone out.

Eventually the nurses wheeled me back into the previous room, where I struggled to stay awake. Even though I hadn't been in labor for days before the surgery, like I had with Jeremiah, I felt like I hadn't slept in about 72 hours.
I think I answered some texts, but I'm honestly not quite sure. I think I fell asleep for a few minutes. I also started scratching my face SO MUCH. The nurse told me it was the magnesium that I had in the IV line that was making me so itchy and tired.

Derrick FaceTimed me from the NICU, and I got to see my sweet Astoria Valentine all hooked up.
I cried.

I later learned she had had the cord around her neck and the pathology report on the umbilical cord showed complications from preeclampsia (like blood clots in the cord? I think?). So despite her troubles of fluid on the lungs and difficulty breathing and her initial floppy response, it was the right choice to get her out early.

And that is the story of her birth day. I didn't get to go to her that night, but I finally got to go up there the next day.

baba, hi

We had a follow-up appointment with the perinatologist this morning, so we got to have an ultrasound and see our little girl. We are under the assumption it's a girl because of one good shot, every other attempt to check was thwarted by our tiny stubborn one's crossed legs.

Everything looks great! She is measuring about two weeks ahead, but all is well. My blood pressure was perfect, and as long as that continues for the next two months then her birthday will be close to New Years Eve. If any issues arise then her birthday will be close to Christmas. Either way it's looking like the few days between December 26-30. (My niece Caroline chose December 27 for her wedding day, so maybe I'll get to attend her reception? Maybe not?)

Jeremiah is so sweet and loved getting to see the baby. He says "hi" to my belly and gives it hugs and kisses. He carries around two of my old dolls and puts them to sleep (lays them down, puts a blanket on their head and fake snores. Hahahaha)

-----

I'm very grateful I haven't had some of the issues I had with Jeremiah's pregnancy, the thigh paralysis, the wrist and thumb pain, things like that.

The current ailments are obnoxious and super painful, and make chasing after a SUPER ENERGETIC toddler so much more difficult. But I would totally do this all several more times. I love getting to feel this wildly wiggly one and how much she kicks and punches and stretches. I look forward to meeting her soon. <3

Part Deux

Umm, here we go again

All Saturday I was super nauseated, especially when standing. I went to a gardening presentation thingy with Meridith in the morning and felt okay-ish (other than my stupid tailbone/sacrum pain, but that's pretty par for the course right now),  but felt sicker as the day went on.

I kneeled backward on the couch and laid my forehead on the back and Derrick rubbed my lower back for a few minutes, which helped for a few minutes.

Sunday afternoon Jeremiah threw up on his bed during his nap and then threw up several more times through the night. I slept (I use the term loosely) on the guest bed next to his crib. He would be asleep and then whimper, change positions, start crying and then throw up quickly. I tried to be on my toes and get a towel under his chin in time, and sometimes I was successful, other times not so much.
Derrick helped me clean him up, throw the bedding in the wash, lay down towels, etc. I was cuddling with MyMy when he suddenly threw up all over me, front and back. (His head was on my shoulder.)
Sweet boy stopped throwing up sometime after 3:30 or so. Hallelujah, because I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore.

Monday I was feeling gross and Derrick texted from work that he wasn't feeling well. Derrick came home a half hour early and soon he threw up.
We all got ready for bed early, and soon I threw up. Derrick and I took turns running to the bathroom. Super fun.
Derrick finally fell asleep, hallelujah, and I came back to the guest bed from throwing up for the sixth time, only to find that Jeremiah threw up all over his bed (again), *SIGH*
I quickly cleaned him up, threw down some new towels on his bed, and got him back to sleep.
And then I threw up for the seventh time.

Ugggggghhh.

Tuesday we all took it easy and felt nauseated all day. That night Jeremiah threw up again. Stressful week. Derrick slept or tried to sleep all day. (He is not one who naps, so you know he really isn't doing well when he spends the day in bed.)
My mom and my aunt Marilyn came over and gathered all the laundry piles and did our dishes. Such a help emotionally as well as physically.

Wednesday we were still nauseated and uneasy, but no one had thrown up lately. (HALLELUJAH.)
In the afternoon I thought I was doing okay, so I went into the kitchen to make some soup. A few minutes into it, I got super faint again. Ugh. I had to sit back down quickly. I ate and immediately regretted it. So dang nauseated again.

My mom and Marilyn came by with crackers and Jell-O and juice and other things to help get over the gross feeling.

That night Derrick and I sat on the same couch and watched King Kong together, which I enjoyed because when we were dating we would watch movies and cuddle on the couch, and we haven't done that is a loooong time. Derrick sent me a text when I was in Jeremiah's room saying he wanted to cuddle and watch a movie when I was done putting MyMy to sleep.

Thursday we were all still feeling uneasy. I semi-jokingly told Derrick I was going to take a pregnancy test, just for funsies. He thought that was a weird idea, because why is that "fun"? I told him it's a science experiment.

I took the test and didn't pay it much attention for the three minutes on my timer. When time was up I glanced at it, ready to do the tilt-and-squint, trying to suss out a tiny faint line of hope.
Yeah, that's not what happened.
There were two dark lines.
Two solid dark lines.
Two.
Um, oh. Ok.
Awesome.

I did a little head shake, to Etch-A-Sketch my brain. I looked at the test again. Two lines. For real. My legs went weak and my hands went shaky.

I pulled out two more tests from my stash and took them. One test again had two solid lines. The other said Yes+

Holy crap.

I'm pregnant.

I'm so dang excited/anxious.





:)

(May 6, 2019 9:23 pm)

Spinning my tires

Yesterday was one of those days where I felt like I was spinning my tires in the mud. Lots of trying, little reward.

Spent the first half of the day grabbing Jeremiah, my newly-mobile crawler, as he tried to escape the living room, and bringing him back to the big pile of toys that is surrounded by body pillows and down comforters, in an attempt to give him some playground borders. Then feeding him and trying to convince him it was nap time. For, oh, a couple of hours.

As the baby (finally) napped in my lap, I made the online grocery list, which led to looking up recipes, which led to distraction after distraction. By the time I was ready to check out with my cart, I'd missed the pick-up window I needed. Oh well.

I fed Jeremiah some mashed potatoes and carrots in his little silicone self-feeder things. He looooved it. It's really fun to watch him try new things and be a little bit more independent. Unfortunately, that's all the real food he got. I meant to put him in the high chair and feed him breakfast, but it didn't happen.

I planned to shower, clean the kitchen, do the dishes and then make a nice dinner. Instead, I put Jeremiah in his "jumparoo" and quickly threw on work clothes. I grabbed the vacuum and sucked up the baby formula I'd spilled all over the kitchen floor. I put all of his bottle parts in the sink of hot, soapy water...and left them there. Finally, I threw a frozen chicken breast in the Crockpot with spices, so Derrick would have something available for dinner.

I had to leave for work a little after 4, so Caroline came over to hang out with 'MyMy for an hour until Derrick got home.

Because it was late, I didn't get the groceries I (really) needed.

Exhausting day with little to show for it.

Exciting insecurities

Deciding to pursue promoting myself and my business is equal parts so freaking exciting and absolutely terrifying. Few things bring out the insecurities the way this has!

I really dislike being fake and those who are fake toward me. I really, really dislike being marketed to in a fake way. This week I got a Facebook message from someone I haven't spoken to (IRL or not) in at least a decade. Her message, the first message in many many years, was an invitation to buy a product (I don't need) through her.
Hmmm. Yeah, no thanks.

Ugh, this all makes me so insecure.
I am a little terrified that I will come across this way if I start promoting myself. I just can't be fake about it.
And the moment I promote myself I am immediately convinced I can't do hair. Can not. Blahhhhh. I book out a day and then am panicked until the day is over. Even with people I've done before.

I mean, I have screwed up before. I've done beauuuutiful hair as well. But the great cuts, which are the majority, don't stick in my mind the way the too-short bangs do. Well-blended fades don't come to mind as I fall asleep at night the way over-thinning does. Or a face frame that started higher than desired. Or the little scratch on the little boy's neckline. Or the layering that didn't sit right. Or that snippy comment of "You did it right the first time, but you haven't gotten it right since."

Ugggggggggggggggghhh.  *deep sigh*  I'm trying, and that is what I can do. The bad this week hasn't happened, and probably (might) not happen. Don't overthink it, Susannah. Breathe. Anxiety suuuuuuucks.

But also, I'm just SO EXCITED! Having my own company (albeit a tiny one) is thoroughly overwhelming in the most delightful way. I have lists and lists of things I want to do. It's going to be (and already has been, in a smaller way) really stretching and growing personally. I have to hunker down and be organized and on top of things in a way that I've never done. Especially with starting to keep Jeremiah on a full schedule, which is not easy for me as well.

I need several hundreds of dollars upfront to really make things how I want them, but this is *definitely* not a possibility. (Turns out cutting back your hours at work from full-time to 4-5 hours a week somehow makes it impossible to succeed financially. Who woulda thunk it. Good thing my sweet baby boy is completely worth the tears of stress of being so incredibly broke.)

I want:
* different chairs for my observation waiting area (right now they're metal folding chairs)
* a futon for the carpeted waiting area
* a credenza for my TV and DVD player
* a booster seat (right now I'm using a shelf, haha)
* shelving for retail products
* retail products
* business cards (need to first solidify my brand and logo and all that jazz)
* fix the hydraulics on my chair (right now it only pumps up a tiny bit, and only if no one is sitting in it, hahaha.)

As of right now, I have a general theme of pop culture. (Do what you know, right?) A framed picture of me with Sean Astin and my nieces and one of Alan Tudyk and me are on the wall right now. I am thinking of framing my autographed headshots, but I'm not sure yet.

Most of my Wonder Woman posters are in frames now, but there are about 3 that I want to frame still. Then I have to decide if I want to stick with just Wonder Woman, or if I want to put up my few Star Wars artwork or frame up my many Ninja Turtles pieces for the waiting area. Oooo. After I decide that, I can start putting up the pieces. Because the wall is cement, I have to use Command hooks and really be sure of the location I want it to be.

I think I want some sort of shelving to house my many Funko Pop! and other brand figurines. All my nerdy goodies. Right now most of them are on the bookshelf in the living room, which I love, but they'd do well downstairs. Except I really don't want little hands all over them. So shelving at my eye level. Hahahahaha

I need to plug in the micro fridge, which holds 6 soda cans. I think that will be nice. :)

I'm working on cleaning out the garage, so clients can come through the garage to the door that leads right down the stairs. For several reasons, but mostly it will be nice to have a direct route that doesn't include knowing whether or not I'm up on doing the dishes or folding the laundry. Trying to keep a general idea of professionalism is difficult when you lead a client past the baby's diaper-changing station (which is on the dining room table, which sounds super weird now that I'm writing it up, but works well for us because we spend a lot more time in that area of the house than in Jeremiah's room). 


All in all, I am just so excited for the possibilities. It has potential to be exactly what I need to push myself in my career and take care of my family simultaneously. I'm trying to not worry about what could happen and believe in myself.
...now I just need to convince people to come to me, hopefully 8-15 such people a week. (Oh goodness, I'm overwhelmed again. Blech.)