Some 'Splainin'

Well y'all, I guess I haven't done very well at keeping you in the loop.

Last we talked, I was about to go see a rheumatologist for some unexplainable joint pain and fatigue. I was worried he wouldn't listen or that he would jump to an "easy conclusion." In reality, he spent over an hour just talking to me. He examined every joint, looked over my lab work from the last 4 years and let me ramble about all the things that I felt may or not be related. He shared with me about his 30+ years of experience and how he didn't throw around diagnoses lightly. All very encouraging things. I sat there thinking any minute he was going to tell me to take some Motrin and wait out some virus that has parked itself in my joints. Instead, he proceeded to list all the (very believable) reasons he thinks I have Lupus. All his reasons were solid, things I couldn't argue with. I left there speechless, a bit stunned, and with several prescriptions in hand- one to fight the joint pain and one to treat this "Lupus".
In the wake of this, I decided to start the prednisone to help stop this spiral of joint pain. Hubby and I also decided to "cast a wide net" (as he put it) and get a couple other opinions. I have known several people to get false Lupus diagnoses and I want to make sure we know exactly what we are dealing with. One thing I can't ignore is the aching and throbbing in almost every joint in my body. I think the prednisone is helping. I have more energy at least. :)

So basically, that is where I stand. I have a couple other rheumatology appointments in the next few weeks. I am taking the prednisone, cutting WAY back on computer time, going to bed earlier, blah, blah, blah.... just trying to do whatever I can to start to feel better and maybe take a little better care of myself. This joint pain has gotten to an un-liveable level and I gotta do something about it (I feel like such a complainer right now! But I am also trying to be honest about this whole thing.).
And in what may seem to you to be counter-productive, I am still running. It is some of the only time I feel un-tethered. And it doesn't hurt while I am running. I pay for it a bit afterwards, but mostly I feel good that I am working my body and getting stronger. Truthfully, it hurts less to run than to walk sometimes because when I am running, I am in a different zone. That sounds so crazy to say, but is somehow true. So I am not ready to give it up, at least until I get through the 5K in 2weeks that was my original goal point. Then maybe I'll have to slow it down some.

So there you have it. Some 'splainin'. Thank you for all your calls and e-mails and prayers. I haven't been a very good friend or blog-friend lately. I haven't been reading enough about y'all. But I will get back there. I just gotta take some time to figure things out a bit. I am not really anxious about this. I am just trying to take it one day at a time. I am anxious about a lot of other things, though, and I am trying to work through that in the midst of this. So again, I am so sorry and so grateful for my friends. Love to y'all.


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Regaining What Was Lost

It has been a truly strange day for me. Actually, I haven't really felt like myself in awhile but I can see it starting to slowly come back. I think.

I was asked this morning by a friend to pick up her son and bring him to church while they got some painting done at their new house. As we loaded him into the car, squeezing the booster seat in between our boys' carseats, I got this strange feeling. Kinda like deja vu, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Driving to church, Lucas and Caden were loving having their friend sitting between them. The three of them were passing different monster toys back and forth and making dinos roar, having a grand ol' time. Lucas especially was all grins. It was amazing how adding this extra little guy made us all smile more and laugh more even though Hubby and I made the comment that we were truly outnumbered by little boys now. When we arrived at church, Hubby got the two older boys out of the car and I got Caden out of his seat. I turned to grab something out of the car to bring into church and when I turned back, I saw Hubby walking along the sidewalk with three boys at his side. It clicked for me in that moment.
The feeling of me and Hubby and three boys, all walking into church together, it felt good. It felt right. I know the other was not mine. But it gave me this rare, tangible glimpse of what we are missing. It made me want to get pregnant just to get that glimpse back. To somehow regain what we have lost. (I know, I know... it would do nothing of the sort. And I really DON'T want to be pregnant.) Having that extra little boy today made me feel like we are meant to be a family of 5. We are a family of 5, we are just not all together. Yet.

Then tonight, along with the majority of the country, Hubby and I sat and watched the LOST series finale. I know there have been all kinds of theories about the metaphors and story lines on this show. I don't even pretend to know the deeper meaning intended by the writers. What I do know, is that tonight, as I watched, I felt sad and yet comforted. (**Potential spoiler alert**) Each character in tonight's finale was reunited with their friends and those they loved while on the island. They had been going about "life," not remembering the events of the island, and at first it seems as if we are seeing what might have happened if the plane had never crashed. But the moment they touch someone whom they loved, the memories of all the shared experiences and the love flash back and their full memories are complete. They remember what it was like to hold their love, to kiss them. They remember both happy and sad times. It is as if the two worlds merge and they are all at once complete. (It seemed to me to be a picture of heaven but I am not at all trying to say that is what it was intended to mean.) As I sat and watched, having had the morning I did, I once again longed for my turn at completion.
Whenever I think about heaven or am asked about what I hope for the most, I pray one thing: When the day comes when Christ in His glory comes through the clouds to take us all to heaven and I get to see my precious first born again, that one touch of his hand in mine will bring a flood of memories, both lived and unlived. I pray that heavenly wholeness includes a restoration of the things that were lost. That in that moment, I will have memories of Micah in my arms and watching his first steps and teaching him to ride a bike and taking him for his first day of school and watching him play with his brothers and seeing Hubby and all his boys walk hand-in-hand down the sidewalk to church. And he will know me as his mother, who held him and fed him and loved him without break or the interruption of death. We will both be complete, in body and in heart and in memory. And kinda like in LOST tonight, my life as Micah's mom and my life as Lucas and Caden's mom will merge and I will know what it is like to feel whole, like truly and completely me.

I guess this has been an appropriate ending to a kinda strange day that began with me feeling that void more strongly than usual. Tomorrow will hopefully be a little more... or maybe a little less... I don't know how to finish that. I would never wish to not miss him. But until the restoration day, Lord may you heal my heart and strengthen my body and keep my focused on the things that truly matter. Amen.



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My Newest Challenge

Blogging is hard for me these days, although I just posted over at Chicago Moms Blog about my recent running hobby. It is in part due to the same ol' excuse: life is just so busy and full. But that is only part of the story.
I know I have vaguely mentioned it a couple times, but starting about 10weeks ago my body began a major rebellion. It started with a sore ankle and an achy thumb or wrist and it has escalated from there. I now have what I can only describe as global joint pain. My ankles and knees and fingers and wrists... yikes. It has been a bit of a challenge, especially when I am fatigued and trying to do fine motor tasks (ie: typing, sewing, etc...). Motrin helps. Hot rice bags have become a staple of my evening. I can mostly work through it but I am trying to limit my internet time and get more rest to see if I can figure this all out.
My primary MD did some blood work and it, at this point, is indicative of some sort of auto-immune issue. Truthfully, I could have told them that without the lab tests. My body is attacking itself for sure, leaving me with lots of pain in my joints. What that means, I am not sure yet. it could be hormonal or some other totally rational explanation. But my nurse's mind goes a million places which is not really that helpful. I know I just need someone to help me figure it out so I am seeing a rheumatologist tomorrow and hopefully he will take the time to hear me and see the big picture.
So I would appreciate your prayers as I see this rheumatologist tomorrow. Pray that he would listen to all the things I think are relevant and informative regarding my current challenge. Pray that we would, at the very least, come up with a short-term solution to get me some relief.

I will back here as quickly and frequently as I can.
Love to you all.


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The Weaning Dilemma

Caden will be two in August. It hardly seems possible that that could be true. It seems like we just had his 1st birthday party where a friend's son pulled the fire alarm and we had the greatest ending to a toddler birthday party ever with firetrucks and firefighters all around. And even closer seems last fall when Hubby and I escaped for a few days to see my beloved Gators and spend a few days on the beach for our 10th wedding anniversary. I was so worried that my time away back then would be the end of nursing for Caden. But to my delight, my milk supply seemed to keep up and he just picked right back up without skipping a beat.

Well, now I find myself in a different spot. He has no intention of being done with his "dursies" and mommy is pretty much ready to be done. He would nurse several times a day if I let him. He definitely nurses when he first wakes up (which is around 5am-Yuck!!) and before his nap if I put him down at home and then before bed. The thing is, he doesn't really fall asleep nursing anymore. He sits there, latched on, just kinda sitting there. He gets mad when I pull him off and cries "Other side, mama, PEAS!!!!" I am not even sure he is getting much more than a trickle of milk except in the morning when there is more there. And when he wants "dursies" in the morning, I can tell that he is legitimately hungry or thirsty since he is going thorough that toddler "I won't eat dinner" phase. The other complicating factor is that he won't drink milk. Not even almond milk. He spits it out. So does he still need whatever milk is there to get the fat for his brain development and all the wonderful other stuff he gets from breastmilk?

So now the dilemma becomes this... is it time to stop? I want to stop, I am ready to stop. But he doesn't seem to be. And I don't want weaning to be a traumatic thing for either of us. I am very much in favor of child-led weaning. Except that I am not sure it would ever be his idea to stop. It was such a natural process for Lucas and it was around this age, just shy of two. I know pro-nursing moms who have already stopped by this age and I know lots of moms who have nursed far past Caden's age.
He is my last baby, Lord- willing. And I don't want him to grow up too fast. But the other issue is that I have been having a little health issue with lots of joint pain and extreme fatigue and some possible auto-immune involvement. I am trying to de-stress and de-clutter my life even more to see if I can get a handle on this joint stuff before trying more pharmacological routes. And this whole nursing issue with Caden is stressing me out both physically and

Just writing this all out, it seems as if I have my answer. It is time to wean. But then you add in the emotional component and I am again not sure. Do I hold on a bit longer since the final nursing with Caden will probably be the final forever? Do I let him be the baby a little longer and give him his "dursies" which do seem to comfort him even if they are not filling his belly?

I am pretty sure I want to be done by the time he turns 2. But maybe sooner.... I just don't know.



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My Little Loves

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Remembering

I hope to sit on this sand someday. Either on this side of heaven or once I get there. Actually, any sand would be heavenly if I had all three my boys sitting with me. The beach is my haven, my place of peace where all seems well in my soul and in the world.
Today, I am remembering a very sad day. A day I had to let go. But today I am also looking at this picture and thinking about that day when I will be able to finally let go of the longing and the sadness. A day when I can sit in the sand on the beach, any beach, and finally feel whole.

I miss you, sweet boy. Save a spot on that heavenly sand for your mama. I ache for the day when we will watch this sunset together.


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Year 6

Towards the end of March every year, I start getting e-mails in my in-box that I should have canceled years ago. Fisher-Price, Gerber, One-Step Ahead, PotteryBarn Kids, and I think a couple others. All lists or sites I entered my information on when I was pregnant with Micah back in the fall of '03... and they are still sending me mommy-propaganda.

Check out these new toys perfect for six year olds! What sports does your six year old love? Has your six year old hit all the developmental markers? Are you ready for kindergarten? We have the perfect gift for your six year old!

I get a pit feeling in my stomach when I see them in my in-box. I never open them. I let them sit there for a few days and then just delete them without ever reading about what my six year old should be playing with or learning or getting ready for. I should really unsubscribe, but I just can't do it. Or maybe I don't want to.
See, I don't have a six year old. I should. I have a son that would have been six. But I don't have a six year old. I think what really keeps me from canceling these e-mails is this feeling that they are one of the few current reminders I have of what life could have been. Should have been.
I look at Lucas and can hardly believe how much he has changed in the last 4years. He is this amazing little boy with his own ideas and thoughts and feelings. And Caden, he is already such a little boy with emerging thoughts and opinions too. I have seen them grow from tiny, defenseless babes to the independent souls they are becoming. But with Micah, I missed that. I only knew him as an infant. A very sick, can't breath on his own, but otherwise perfect baby. And my memories of him are all of him this way. I can remember his piercing eyes and tight grip as Hubby and I stood by his NICU bed. I remember his golden hair that would probably have all fallen out as he got older and his chubby cheeks that might have slimmed away as he became less baby and more little boy.

Who would he be as a six year old? Who would I be as the mother of a six year old who had never known the pain of burying my first born? Would he still look like the spitten-image of his daddy? How might life be different? How might I be different?

I am beyond the acute stage of grief. I don't think about my grief everyday. If I am being totally honest, I don't even really think deeply about Micah everyday. I do see his picture everyday as I walk through my living room. But remembering him has just become part of me. Missing him has become part of me. But there are some days when the longing is overwhelming and the thoughts of what might have been just over take me.
I don't know if that is normal for this stage of grief. Probably is. Year 6. Closer to 10 than 0. I'm not sure if that means anything to you, but to me that feels big. Though I can't really explain why.

I sat in the nursery tonight, nursing and rocking Caden to sleep. He likes to hold my hand and play with my fingernails as he falls asleep. I just leaned over and rested my cheek on his forehead and closed my eyes. As dysfunctional as this may be, as I felt Caden holding my hand I tried to imagine that it was Micah and remember what it felt like for his little fingers to grasp mine six long years ago. I could picture myself there, in the NICU, sitting in a rocking chair holding my first born son. And as I rocked Caden, I just cried- tears of a deep longing for times like this with Micah that I was cheated out of and yet also tears of deep, deep gratitude for these moments that I do have with Caden and did have with Lucas.

I may not know what Micah would be good at or what toys he would like to play with or if he had hit all his developmental markers. I may be left wondering how life up to this point has changed me for the better and the worse. I may, at times, feel all alone in this world and in my grief. But, here in year 6, I do know that God is with me. He is holding me, walking with me, blessing me. He has given me Lucas and Caden and friends who deeply love me and remind me of how far I really have come in these 6 years. One of my dearest friends told me today that it is the times when I worry about losing my hope that prove that I really haven't lost it. That rings so true in my heart. I am sad, heart-broken, incomplete. But that is not the whole picture, thank you Jesus. I will be made whole one glorious day but I can still see the amazing ways I am a blessed woman now on earth. I do feel lonely and like I haven't navigated this grief well at times, but I just keep praying that God would help me reconcile this woman that I am with the idea I have of who I should be.

Year 6. Still longing. Still hurting. Still wondering about so many things. But yet, grateful and hopeful and learning how to be comfortable just being me.


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