Saturday, June 30, 2012


Mags: "Surgery makes you smell weird, Mama."

It's true. Hospitals aren't the best smelling places on earth. But yesterday's surgery went better than expected, so it's okay if  I wreaked. Unlike two years ago when I had to stay in the hospital for two nights, I was allowed to come home the same day with this surgery. They pumped me full of pain medication and handed me over to the capable hands of my husband. I slept the day away once I was in my own bed. I woke up a few times in the middle of the night. I'm pretty sure I tweeted with my friend, Michele, during one of those times about blogging about any weird post-surgical hallucinations I had. I fell into a deep sleep at about 2:30 and woke about 5AM to this:


Between my anesthesia wearing off and the pain killers in my system, my brain was mushy. I blinked hard a few times and then I froze. My thought process went like this:

" There's a cat in the house. We don't own a cat. Wait, do we? No, we don't.  I'm allergic. Did we leave a door open yesterday? Maybe the bathroom window was open? It's on the second floor, but cats can climb and jump. Why isn't the cat moving? I hope it didn't pee in the laundry basket full of clean clothes next to my dresser. Did it just 'meow'? Should I wake up Chris? We have to get that cat out of here somehow."

Then my foggy brain remembered something. Mags had brought her toy "FUR REAL KITTY"  into our bedroom to remind me to change the batteries. It's no wonder they call those things "FUR REAL".Whew!

On top of waiting for pretend cats to meow, I also thanked my parents four different times for the flowers they sent me. I posted on Facebook, sent a text, wrote an email, and then, forgetting I did any of that yesterday, posted it on Facebook again this morning. Mushy brain. But due to the fact I love things in 5's or 10's, I'm going to thank my Mom and Dad one more time for the flowers in this post. 

Oh, look! My alarm just went off. It's time for some more pain relief 
and a nap. Thanks for the outpouring of love and support from you all. 
We really appreciate it!

Thursday, June 28, 2012


Guest Post by Chris (Melissa's Husband)

Melissa (via Text Message): "The doctor wants to take it out."

Chris (via Text Message): "Whoa. She just declared war on your insides."


I’m all for peace. Peace, not war and all that. But sometimes, after all diplomatic negotiations have been exhausted, military action is necessary. Sometimes, you have to roll out the tanks, fire up the missiles and bomb the hell out of the nasty for the greater good. 

About three weeks ago my wife and I made the joint decision to go to war. We met with a number of advisors, listened to what they had to say, weighed the options and consequences, and came to the conclusion it was time to pull the trigger. We signed the declaration of war and prepared for battle.


It isn’t like we didn’t give the aggressor fair warning. Two years ago we tried to send a clear message by obliterating more than half the enemy’s forces. Severely diminished, we thought for sure what remained would fall in line; back into an everyday rhythm. Peace reigned for awhile, but the malevolence couldn’t be contained forever. After two years of lying low, the tyrannical despot surfaced, bringing with it more pain and suffering. 

At first we tried to ignore it. Then, when it refused to be ignored, we tried to reason with it. Again, our pleas fell on deaf ears. Backs against the wall, we felt like we had no choice but to go to war.


Two years ago, Melissa had a partial hysterectomy. After all was said and done, her right ovary was left intact although we knew it wasn’t completely healthy. A history of cysts and other various skirmishes had left it damaged, but functional. Still, we let it live on in hopes that it would put off menopause for a few years. The doctor guessed that the ovary might continue to work without incident for five to eight more years, but she admitted, this was just a guess. It turned out to be two.

For the last few months Melissa has found herself in an ever increasing amount of abdominal pain. At first, it was just a whisper compared to the screaming, stabbing, gut-wrenching agony she felt two years prior. Tough as nails, she ignored it for as long as she could. Eventually however, the pain intensified to a point where it demanded attention. 

That’s when she went to the doctor who recommended we send in a hit squad to attack her remaining ovary. Unlike Osama Bin Laden, we knew exactly where this tyrant lived. So the mission was simple. Go in and extract the despicable organ; all mutated with fibrous, ulcerated cysts. Problem solved. While there, a pre-emptive strike was ordered on her appendix too.

With surgical precision, these organs were removed. A minor swipe looking for any intestinal adhesions was performed just for good measure. Our team of professionals was thorough, leaving no loose ends to cause any additional trouble.

Exit Strategy – Present Day

Recovery time for the procedure is ,miraculously, only one week. Melissa will rest in bed, mostly sleeping. That said, all of her favorite things are all lined up to speed along her recovery. Vampire DVDs, werewolf books, comfy pajamas, snuggles from her babes, and heaping…no that’s not quite right…HEAPING! amounts of chocolate will carry her through. Her body will be in flux, having been thrust into menopause, but we’re prepared for this inevitability. As the dust settles, her body will be discovering how to behave without the miscreants disturbing the peace. This will be an adjustment, for sure, but we’ll be ready with heaping…no that’s not quite right…HEAPING! amounts of laughter and love.


It is always easier to head into a conflict knowing you have a conglomerate of support. This battle is no exception. Thank you…yes you, the one reading this blog post.. for supporting the cause. Your comments, your posts, your tweets, your status updates, your offerings, your words of encouragement, your donations of meals, and all the rest make up our own network of United Nations. Without you, we’d be facing the great unknown alone. Thank you for it all.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I am needed in the war room…



Mags: "Mama, are they going to stick a needle in your arm?"
Me: "Yes, but it won't hurt because they are going to give me special medicine to numb the area before they put it in. Cool, huh?"
Mags: "Good. But if it hurts, tell me. I'll give them a mean look and then karate chop them. (insert maniacal laugh)"

It's nice when someone always has your back. You never have to worry that you're alone, even when you feel like you are. That's where you all, ya'll, youse come in. I was overwhelmed by the love and support these past weeks since I told people about the upcoming surgery. Whether it was offers of food, prayers, good thoughts, texts, emails, posts, phone calls, making me laugh, kicking my butt in Words With Friends (I'll be back), or having me watch the SCARIEST frigging movies out there (ahem...Chris)...I appreciate it.  THANK YOU!

 YOU, yes I'm looking at YOU!

 I've made some awesome friends out there and I'm grateful for every single one of you. I'll be going to the hospital this morning and Chris will be with the kids while I'm in prep and surgery. I have no doubt they'll be off having fun adventures because my husband is the master of distraction. It's a gift. He'll update on social media because like a net, it captures everyone. Of course he will call my mom personally...DON'T WORRY, MOM! :)

Here we go. We're jumping into this adventure with both feet.

Total side note: In my sleeplessness lately, I noticed that I have written 173 posts since I started at the end of December. Whew. I talk a lot. When I went to my stats, I wasn't overly surprised with my top 5 visited posts of all time. I thought I would post them for you all in case you just joined me on this adventure or if there were some you missed out on reading. I also included my own top 5 favorite posts that I've written .Enjoy!

 Have a great day, everyone. Tuck is up so I have
 to catch a quick snuggle before my day begins. 

Top 5 most popular posts:

Top 5 of my personal favorites:

My writing piece that won a contest: 

Wednesday, June 27, 2012


Tuck: "I'm doing it! It's working! It's working! IT'S OUT! I DID IT!"

Last night Tuck waited until Chris walked in the door and then yanked his very first loose tooth out. It had been loose since April, I kid you not. And the boy was done with it today when he could not eat the PB&J he had made all by himself. I distracted him from pulling it around noon by listening to our audio story, A Tooth's Story (you can listen here). Like I said, it's his first tooth and I knew Chris wanted to be there. Plus, it totally grossed me out and every time he pushed it forward with his tongue I felt a little lightheaded. Turns out I'm a huge woos with wiggly, wobbly teeth. 

Since Tuck is our tenderhearted, gentle, old soul, we were shocked that he just dug right in and started to push it out. Chris handled the taping and Mags gave me the play by play (I couldn't watch).

"MAMA! THERE IS BLOOD! IT IS BLEEDING!" (I'm feeling faint)


Mags cheered her big brother on with her usual enthusiasm for all things Tuck. Chris recorded it for him to watch later. I could hear Chris gently coaxing him along and Tuck hanging onto every word he had to say. He worked at it for a little bit, but he was insistent that sucker was coming out and we were impressed with his determination. Then, POP! 

 And instantaneously, he was "BIG".

*If you haven't heard the song "BIG" by the kid's band, the 
Imagination Movers, it's one you should check out. 
You can find it on their Juice Box Heroes CD. 


Tuesday, June 26, 2012


Mags: "Mama, here. You can have Silky to take with you for your surgery."
Me: "Thanks, Mags! That is so sweet of you!"
(Two minutes later)
Mags: "Umm, can I have Silky back now? How about you just THINK about her while you're in surgery. Okay?"

It was the thought that counts. Right? For Mags to even think about giving me her treasured comfort item to take to the hospital was a very sweet and selfless gesture. Both kids have been helping me to get the house cleaned up and errands run before Thursday's surgery. I should only be down and out for a week after, but my anal nature makes me want to make sure the fridge is filled, the laundry is caught up, the deck is stained, and the sink is fairly cleared. You know all the normal everyday things. 

While helping me prepare, I found some items on my dresser this morning. The kids had put some things there for me to bring along to the hospital on Thursday morning.  

From Tucker:

*His Batman sunglasses. This is so the lights in the room wouldn't be too bright when I woke up. Plus, I would look "very cool". 

*One of his comfort items. He has about 50 of these socks he took to as a baby. He loves them all the same. To give me one to take is BIG. He won't even let Chris take one when he goes away on trips.

From Mags:

*A My Little Pony. This is for when I wake up and I get bored, I can play with her. 

*One of her comfort items. Even though she has THREE Silkies, she does not share them. They are hers and hers alone. This one you see in the picture is the one I replaced her lost one with. You can read that story here. Even though it is not as loved as the other two (all Silkies are NOT created equal) it was still a very kind gesture.

I'm sure the doctor will appreciate me gripping all these things 
in my fists on Thursday morning.

Well, not Silky. But I'll be able to THINK about 
Silky (and her owner) and that's enough comfort for me.

Monday, June 25, 2012


Tuck: "Mama, look at that Bigfoot."
Me: "Oh, yeah. He looks angry, doesn't he?"
Tuck: "Do you think that is made from real Bigfoot meat?"
Me: "Umm...I don't know. What do you think?"

Tuck: "I think it is because you know Bigfoot is real, right?"
Me: "Well, remember what the show 'Finding Bigfoot' says? They haven't
found anyone that can prove they've actually seen him."
Tuck: "I know, but I bet that's really Bigfoot meat."
Mags: "I bet it has fur in it."
Tuck: "Eww Mags! That's gross!"
Mags: (whispers) "And Bigfoot poop."

(Uncontrollable laughter from both kids...and the grocery store cashier)

This is the nineteenth installment of "Picture This".

Sunday, June 24, 2012



That up there has been an official word in our household since January of 2009, which was around the time that Mags learned to walk. She was like Godzilla crushing block buildings or swiping a Matchbox race car line-up in one fell swoop. Most of the time it was the the unsteady beat of her new walk that led to these debacles. Tuck (only 3 at the time) was as patient as he could be. We helped him understand that she didn't mean to, that she was just learning. But happened. One day he reacted with a screech. She LOVED it. Chaos ensued. And the phrase "MAGGIENOOOOOOOOOOOOO" was born. 

It was his sounding alarm of sorts. A way to let us know that she was too near to his toy of choice. I'd rush into the room with my dish soap hands and defuse the situation. She'd have this devilish little smile on her 15-old-month face that was so darn irresistible. It was nearly impossible to stifle a giggle when I saw it. Strategies to help distract her would be given, hands would be taken, little sister would be led out of the room with promises of bubbly hands like Mama's. It would work. But then...

She craved his reaction. No matter how much I did to give him his alone time, she's find a way in there to him. He was like a magnet. She couldn't help herself. Soon, just the sound of her little pitter patter coming down the hall would trigger his battle cry.


One particular day, after one too many of these screams, I said to him,

"Tuck, she's just trying to get your goat. The more you scream, the more she likes it. Remember, if you don't react to her, she'll get bored and leave."

A whole conversation occurred about what "trying to get your goat" meant. After the explanation, the phrase made him laugh. 

Chris, who affectionately nicknamed Mags "Captain Destructo", worked hard to tame the beast, too.  We actually ended up writing a story for the kids called Captain Destructo. We posted it on our podcast, Night Light Stories, thinking there were other families and siblings having the same issues that would be able to relate. You can hear it here.

After many weeks of this, one day I heard IT as I was putting laundry away. Tuck was using the strategies we had given him to apply in these "sister situations". Ignore her. Distract her. Get up, walk away, and come get Mama or Daddy. Play in the living room. Tell her no in a softer voice. Offer her another toy. Play WITH her. Lead her gently out of your room if one of us wasn't in there with you. Both kids were playing peacefully and so I said,
"Great job, guys. I LOVE how you are playing TOGETHER so nicely."

Tuck looked up at me, smiled and in his matter-of-fact tone said,

"She was trying to get my sheep, Mama, but I didn't let her."

Once I realized what he was trying to say, there was no holding back my laughter. I didn't even correct him. In fact, we added it to the many commonly used made-up phrases we have in our house.

Sheep are much sweeter than goats anyway. 

Photo taken November 2009
Do you have any made up phrases that you use in your household? 
Feel free to share in the comments! 

Wednesday, June 20, 2012


Do you know those dreams you wake up from and are so relieved that it wasn't real? I can remember having those as a child and even though I was awake, I was still terrified that whatever or whoever I was dreaming about was somehow around me. It would take me a moment or two of really waking myself up to realize I was safe. 

Mags had one of those dreams last night. At 4AM she ended up by our bed shaking and refusing to go back into her room. Once Chris and I talked to her about it, she calmed down. As I carried her back to her bed and laid her back down, this was the conversation we had:

Mags: "I'm not going in there, Mama. There's a giant crab. He's trying to pinch me."
Me: "It was just a dream, Mags. See? Look in your room, there's no giant crab."
Mags: "Of course you can't see him. That's because he's invisible."
Me: "I will carry you in so you don't have to walk across your floor, okay?"
Mags: "Okay. Just be careful he doesn't pinch your butt."
Me: "I'll be careful. See? We are at your bed and no crab. Nothing pinched either of us. All that's in your room is the big mess you guys made."
Mags: *giggling* "Tuck made most of it."
Me: "Alright, let's get you tucked in and put all your stuffed friends around you. That will keep any more bad dreams about stinky crabs away."
Mags: "And silkies, too. Can you lay with me until I fall asleep, Mama?"
Me: "Yes. Let me just climb in over here...."
Mags: "NO! Mama! You sleep on the outside of the bed. That way if the crab comes back he'll pinch you first!"
Me: "Good plan. Night, Mags."
Mags: "Night, Mama. Night, invisible crabby."

All I knew was if anything pinched my butt, it was getting boiled. 

Trifecta Writing Challenge: Drenched

This post is in response to Trifecta's Weekly Challenge. They ask this week that we use the third definition of the given word in a 33-333 word story. This week's word is:

BLUE (adjective)

1  : of the color blue
2  a : bluish <the blue haze of tobacco smoke>
    b : discolored by or as if by bruising <blue with cold>  
    c : bluish gray <a blue cat>
3  a : low in spirits : melancholy
    b : marked by low spirits : depressing <a blue funk> <things looked blue>

Author's note: I used this story for Lance's 100 Word Song about a month back. I thought it fit this challenge as well, so I tweaked it a little bit. 


The demon lay dormant deep within. It always possessed the threat of releasing its fury without warning, without hesitation. It’s monition summoned her attention when her screams for help became too close to the surface. Tortuous pain would admonish her for this behavior.

Her beauty was its mask. She was a beguiler. Her closest confidants could almost see past it. She'd fend them off by saying,

"I'm just a little blue." 

They could never know. People passed her on the street, unaware of her imminent demise, her diminishing spirit. Her soul riddled with evil, her body haggard and jaded. Relinquishing control would make it go away. And then, just as it thought it was victorious, he came into her life, drenched in light. 

Monday, June 18, 2012


Tuck: "Mama, watch this. Watch this. Watch this. Watch this. Watch this. Mama! Watch this. Watch this. Watch this. Watch this. Mama! Are you watching?"
Me: "Yes, Tuck, I'm watching. Believe me. I am watching."

The milestones the kids are reaching lately are coming on fast and furious. We were in a lull there for a while and now all of the sudden, BAM! Tuck's tooth that has been loose since April (I kid you not...see this post) has finally decided to break free and just go for it already. He keeps bending it forward with his tongue, which totally grosses me out. That thing will be popping out before we know it. 

Back in April Tuck asked to take the training wheels off his bike. He really wanted to learn to ride. It took him some time and we'd go to our nearby walking path (because it's hard to learn to ride on a mountain). He was still a little wobbly...that is until last night when he hopped on his bike and took off. He had complete control, kept his momentum up and maneuvered around obstacles like a pro. I was proud and amazed all at the same time. 

Then we went to the park. Both the kids were all over that place. I couldn't keep up. Mags realized this year that some of the equipment she couldn't maneuver before is now easy peasy. It was the same deal with Tuck. The fire pole, the rock wall, and this strangely shaped thing were all doable.

Both kids were like Spider Man. 

So, between  losing teeth,  ditching training wheels, owning the park equipment, upgrading the car seats to booster seats and  moving along in swimming class; I will be the mom in the corner crying throughout the summer. Of course it will mostly be out of pride and admiration for their new found level of independence. Seriously, though, all those old ladies in the line at the grocery store who told me not to blink.... 


Who's with me in the corner this summer?
What milestones are you seeing lately in your household?

Saturday, June 16, 2012

PICTURE THIS: Father's Day Edition

Chris (Day 1, hour 1): "So cool, Tuck! Santa brought you the Millennium Falcon! I can't wait to put it together and play with it with you! Thanks, Santa!"

Chris (Day 2, hour 6): "I think this will be going on top of the hutch where nobody can touch it. We can just look at it. Thanks, Santa."

To all the dads out there who have spent countless hours 
putting these "great" toys together, this one's for you! 

TRIFEXTRA: Free Milk and a Cow

This post is in response to Trifecta's Trifextra Weekend Challenge. Here's what they asked us to do:

"We're going back to an old faithful, mostly because it delights us to see the stories you create from our photos.  Please give us a creative piece inspired by the photo below.  You have two options for word count: you can either give us 33 words or 333 words.  Please note: we are not asking for a post between 33 and 333 words.  We are asking for a post that is exactly 33 words or exactly 333 words."

A cow for me!
Milk, you’ll see.
She obviously needs a place to stay.
I’ll wash her, love her, and feed her hay.
Wait...what’s that smell?
Move along. I wish you well.

Friday, June 15, 2012


I’m participating today in the Character Assassination Carousel by the very funny Ninja Mom. Each month she hosts one of her blogger friends as they place their children’s story of choice in a brand new light...after most likely reading it so many times they can recite it by heart.
Previously on the carousel was Farrah at The Three and Under.  Take a spin with  the list  of other contributors who cleverly put some of children's beloved titles and characters to the test.  Next in line is Marian at Just Keep Swimming. I can't wait to find out what she has in store for us in July!
What book did I choose you might ask? 

That's right. The carousel is brought to you by the letter M and the number 4. A Sesame Street Golden Book favorite.  Hello, everybodeeeee! 

I have a personal story behind this book before we begin. It includes the reasoning why I rarely pull this sucker off the shelf anymore. Picture it. A new mom with her four-month-old baby boy on the floor. She's cooing and giggling with the baby and then thinks it would be such a sweet moment if she read one of her favorite books from childhood to her son.  She grabs the book off the shelf and snuggles in with her little man. As she begins to read she gets creative and poorly tries to imitate the voice of Grover. Then the baby starts to cry. No, not just cry. WAIL AND TREMBLE.  IN FEAR.  Reading time is over, Grover.

But besides scarring my child with this book, Grover's reactions kick me into "Mommy Mode".  All I want to do is soothe him, calm him, scold him, and then put him in time-out for making such a mess.  Here. Let me show you. 

Grover. Chill out, buddy. Don't worry about it. You know you're a monster, right? Crap. Now I have to give Grover the "Big Bird and the bees" talk. 

Wait a cotton pickin' second, Grover. I don't have enough time to read 'Fifty Shades of Grey' and now you're telling me I can't read this book either? 
 It will take five minutes max if you just let me turn the pages. 

Oh for goodness sake. Save the drama for your own mama. 
I have to get through this book at some point. Just go sit over there on the other side of the room if you don't want to listen. Ear muffs.

Grover, honey, I am a mom of a four and six-year-old.  Do you think a few ropes are going to slow me down? By the way, where did you get those ropes?
If those came from Oscar's "house", we're going to need to Purell your hands. 

GROVER! Don't lose your sh@#. I'm right here. Nothing is going to happen. 
I'll be honest, though. I'm a little freaked by the stars shooting out of your mouth. What's next? Pea soup?

Again. Where are you getting all these materials to make these things? It's fine because it keeps you from wigging out on me, but let me just giving you a quick warning. If your hammering wakes up the four-year-old from her much needed nap, I'll be the one spitting pea soup. Capisce?

I'm sorry. Did you just say that *I* am making a terrible mess?  Someone needs to stop and think. Did I take out the ropes? NOPE. NOT ME. Did I take out the hammer, nails, wood, saw horse, and vice? NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. AAAAND NOPE! So, let's try this again. WHO is making the mess?

Seriously, Grover? Do you know how hard it is to get mortar out of fur? 
THINK GUM. *sigh*

Aww! Really?  Me?  Strong? Thanks, Grover. That is nice of you to say. Lately I've just been feeling like I am holding it together by a string, but this made me really feel like I'm doing alright.  I'll get the broom and you get the dustpan. If we work together, we can get this cleaned up in no time.  Who wants to start us off with the "Clean Up" song?

Okay. We've been over this. What kind of monsters do you think you are going to find? Werewolves that take off their shirts and sparkly vampires? In that case, we'd better hurry to the end!  TRUST ME! 

OH! *YOU* told *ME*.
 I see what you are doing here. A little reverse psychology.
 *Someone* has been paying attention. 

Don't be embarrassed. But here's a quick tip: 
Remember what you have learned here today because ...'re going to be doing it all over again VERY, VERY soon! 

Thanks, Ninja Mom
This was such a fun and therapeutic writing experience.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012


Remember this post

I was trying something new on my blog. I posted a picture and asked for you to come up with a caption OR conversation that you could hear happening between Mags and I.  I also said the winner would have their name put in lights or fire on my blog. Let's start with a reminder of what the picture was. 

I have some funny friends and readers. You guys were very creative and even used content from past blog posts! I can't even remember yesterday and half the time I call the kids "Mojo", which was our pet ferret's name who has been dead for three years. I was impressed!

I ended up choosing two winners. I could see Mags saying both of these things below. Plus, the serious look on my face happens in real life when I am trying to understand what she is asking or saying without laughing or looking stunned. She gets REALLY mad if I do that.

Without further ado, CONGRATULATIONS to DONNA and KIKI. 
Read their pondering thoughts below: 

"Why is the name for fear of long words 'hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia'?"

"Hmmm... What if the hokey pokey really *is* what it's all about?"

I'm thinking I'll have to do this again, if the opportunity arises. 
Thanks everyone for playing along with me!

*Image credit to

Sunday, June 10, 2012

100 WORD SONG: Don't Turn Around

This post is in response to Lance's 100 Word Song. This week's song was "Elephant" by Damien Rice.


He drove away not wanting to go, but not knowing how he could turn back. She just ripped her soul back from him, a gift she had given him long ago. Mistakes were made, hearts were shattered, pieces were reconfigured. But as much as he tried to find them all, put them back in place, even the tiniest of shards missing left a gaping hole.

The steering wheel felt awkward, like it was crumbling under his overwhelmingly powerful control. At this rate, it would not hold up under the pressure. He loosened his grip slightly, fearful of losing his ascendance.

TRIFEXTRA: A Moment In Time

This post is in response to Trifecta's Trifextra Weekend Challenge. They changed up the rules this weekend and here's what they asked of us. This weekend we are asking for a bit of your memoirs.  We want a real account of a period in your life that can be clearly identified by (wait for it) the number three. I recently wrote out our birth story for our son on my blog. This experience was a part of that, but I went into more detail of this particular late night visit to the hospital. 

A Moment In Time

I waited all my life for those three trimesters. Every week further in brought less nausea, more flutters, and increased strength from the inside out. Thirty-three weeks landed us in our third late night visit to the hospital. Stopping the persistent contractions was the goal.  

As I lay in that hospital bed with my husband telling me corny jokes to keep me from losing it, the nurse came in with a shot. My heart raced three times the speed once I caught sight of that needle. The medicine contained in that little vial was nicknamed the ‘jitter serum’. If the first one didn’t calm those contractions down, then a second one was given. If that didn’t scare your uterus quiet, then a third dose was given. If that one didn’t work, well, we had never got to that point before. They always stopped by the third one. 

One...let the twitches begin. Two....let the incessant “what if’s” flow. Three...let the prayers pour from my very soul.

The doctor came in a short time after and stood in front of us.

“So, you wanna have a baby?”

I turned to Chris who met my panicked gaze and grabbed my hand. It took us both about three seconds to say,

“No. Not if we can help it.”

And with that, the doctor told us he would give the medicine thirty more minutes to take effect. Chris and I flipped on the TV for distraction and watched Tom Cruise jump up and down on Oprah’s couch like an idiot. Three minutes of my life I would never get back. Then, just before the thirty minute mark was coming due, everything stopped. Everything settled. Everything was calm. Everything remained intact. 
Fast forward to three times three weeks later, three days of labor, three hours of pushing, and three minutes to decide it was time to try another route. After some cutting, pressing, pulling, and waiting; our boy made his grand entrance, crying all the way.

Saturday, June 9, 2012


Me: "Daddy's going to bring you to the hospital to see me after my surgery is over. Okay?"
Tuck (who was four-years-old): "Okay, Mama. They are gonna cut your belly like when I was 'borned'?"
Me: "Right. And they are going to take out the parts that don't work right anymore."
Tuck: "Will you feel it?"
Me: "Nope. I'll be asleep. The doctors will take good care of me."
Tuck: "And the new baby they pull out with your parts? The doctors will take care of him, too? I can't wait to see that new baby they pull out of your belly."
Me: "No, Tuck, I don't have a baby in here."
Me: "Okay. Let's start over, Tuck. I missed something."

Two years ago in July I had to have a partial hysterectomy. After years of trying to control my pain, bleeding, cysts, adhesions, and endometriosis with little to no success, it was time.  I wrote about how we got to that point as a guest post on the Just.Be.Enough blog. Since I was 32 at the time, my GYN decided to leave my right ovary in. It was the best looking part of my damaged reproductive system and it would hopefully keep me out of menopause for about five to eight more years. The surgery was big. Bigger than I expected. I thought for sure I'd blow her 6-8 week recovery time out of the water. Silly me. That surgery was the boss of my body for that full time and I couldn't do a thing about it. Chris, being Chris, took it all in stride. Two kids under 4 all summer long. He did great! I had chocolate at my bedside at all times. Good man.

That right ovary wasn't happy being left all alone, though. For the past six months, I've noticed an increase in my pain level on that right side. The first time it happened, Chris and I joked it away by saying it was lonely and crying in there. The second time it happened, the pain was more pronounced, there was some swelling, and it lasted more than a few days. I decided to keep closer track of it. Every month got a little more intense and lasted a little bit longer until last month when the pain just settled in and wouldn't go away. The intensity of the pain ebbs and flows, but it is ever present...again. I hesitantly made an appointment. An exam, blood work, ultrasound, and a revealing of the "findings" later, it was decided the best course of action was to remove the remaining ovary.  My doctor also announced that she thought it would be best to have the general surgeon take out my appendix while she was in there. Two for the price of one.

So, on June 28th, the remaining parts causing havoc will get an eviction notice. I'm scared. I won't lie. It's not the surgery or the recovery that I'm scared of though. I know what to expect with those. I've been there before. It's what is going to happen to me after the surgery. Once she removes my ovary, I'll be in menopause. I'm a worry wart, a "catrastrophiser", and I have a fear of the unknown. I have no idea what to expect with this except the usual jokes you hear about women having hot flashes. 

The thing is, what I found most helpful before and after my hysterectomy was hearing other people's stories. Whether it was friends, friends of friends, my mom, my aunts, my second cousin twice removed, or reading a stranger's story online, it helped me be less wary of the road I was about to travel. This got me thinking about my blog. 

I wondered if any of my readers have been through this or know someone who has been through it. I would love to hear your experiences, tips, and tricks if you are willing to share. Feel free to send me an email, a PM if we're on FB together, a DM if we're on Twitter together, or leave it in the comments if you feel comfortable. I feel like I should buy a book on it, too. Do they make books called  "What To Expect When You're Menopausing"? 

Thanks in advance for your help!

Also, thanks to Chris and Michele from ODNT 
for helping me out with the post!