Bad Patient

Life is peachy. Here are some of the highlights (and low-lights).

My mom was here for a week helping out keeping all the laundry clean as well as the kitchen and kid. She also rubbed my back, brought an endless supply of peanut M&M's and was an all around great cuddler. (Thank you so much, mom. You have no idea what it meant to us to have you here.)

My son thought every time she walked into the room meant that his mommy was being shipped off to Cambodia for a few more days without him, so he wanted nothing to do with her. She took it better than I did.

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I look around and see all of the stuff I want to be doing. Knitting. Sewing. Going through the junk drawer. Scrapbooking. Reading.

My head has hurt so bad for the last four days that all I really manage to do is take random assortments of drugs every 6 hours and try to pretend that it's normal to cock my head to the side like a camel with a sand flee stuck in its ear.

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I was cleared Friday to take baths and anyone who knows anything about me knows I loooooove my baths. Showers are for heathens and very muddy people.

I just got out of a shower instead of a bath because the thought of moving my shampoo and conditioner the 10 feet to the tub was just too much to bear.

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I lost 15 lbs in 4 days.

It was all water weight from the surgery and it involved endless middle of the night trips to the bathroom. And I still have the real 5lbs to lose that I just.freaking.lost. You know, the 5 hardest pounds in the history of mankind to lose? That I worked really, really hard to make go away just a few short months ago? F*****S

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I'm getting in touch with my emotions.

Alan hasn't filed divorce papers, yet, (right Alan?) on the grounds of his wife has gone flipping nuts. Crying is the new black.

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Please no chin-up little buckeroo comments. I need to hear a few, "I feel you girl." and "are you having to deal with this shit too?" comments. I need a little solidarity right now. I will cowboy up all by myself, I'm sure. After all, I am little Miss Pollyanna 90% of the time.

So how about it? Come on Kim, tell me about the cooler of water left by the side of the bed after Elise was born. Linda, let me hear a little something about your torture after your recent surgery. Anyone have any gory wound stories? Mom? Care to share about the time your guts came out of your belly button? Anything for your darling, right?

The Case of the Reappearing Fallopian Tube

Today I'm home from the hospital. Some might know that I was pregnant, but few know that Saturday Alan took me to the emergency room with abdominal pain. Yup, another ectopic.

Wish I could remember the name of the dr who did my 1st ectopic surgery and what he actually removed when he said he took out my right fallopian tube because, funnily enough, that's the exact same tube that was removed Saturday along with my right ovary. WTH? Dr. Wells also tied my left tube while he was hanging out in my insides Saturday so we won't have to mess with this again. He called it retied since it looks like that was what the dr from my 2nd ectopic basically did which he called repairing my tube.

Alan and I weren't trying or preventing getting pregnant. We knew there was a big chance that getting pregnant again might mean another ectopic. But we didn't think it through very carefully. We didn't think all the way through what an ectopic might mean. Death to the mother. Shit. We just thought as far as another baby.

I thought getting my remaining tube tied would be sad and feel like giving up a dream but it isn't. It's such a relief, knowing I'll be here for my son and husband who are my world and not dead because I waited too long to get to the hospital and bled to death.

My mom is here taking good care of me and Alan has been within touching distance at all times. I am so lucky t have such wonderful friends and family.

Talking Back

Cortland has been doing great with his therapy. While in KS for 2 weeks he mastered M, P, O and B. This week our homework was to use Bee and Bow and Bye and Boo if Bee and Bow went good. It's not going so as good as expected. I say, "Say Bee." and he says, NO, NO!" and runs away.

I've tried everything I can think of. Say Bee before opening the back door. Whatever. He then just doesn't want to go outside anymore. I drew a bee on the milk carton and tried to get him to say Bee before he could have milk. He thinks I'm crazy because Duh, that's obviously milk and not a bee.

I've tried playing find the bee in the book. I've put bees in the trains. I've tried singing silly songs. I've buzzed around the house with him looking at me like I've gone loony on him.

I know he can say it because he has said it with his grandma. But he's not applying it to an actual bee.

Forgot to mention he has a motor-speech delay. He understands everything we say, he just can't get his brain to make his mouth talk back.