The Artist

We went for a hike in Mt. Spokane State Park yesterday- probably one of the last hikes we will do in Washington. I am hoping to make it to the top of Mt. Kit Carson one more time before we move... I have just over two weeks to do it!

Notice the amount of snow still on the mountain... in June! There was actually more snow yesterday than there was in May because of the cold snap we had last week. We weren't really thinking about that when we went on our hike. My poor husband was wearing his Vibran FiveFingers (toe shoes), which are great if you are running in the heat, but not so good if you are hiking in the snow. We had to stop a few times so he could warm his feet, once in my arm pit.

Aside from the snow, we had a really nice hike. It was in the mid 60s at the bottom of the mountain, but we could see our breath as we went up. We hiked for a little over an hour up and a little less than an hour down. Milli had a great time, as always, and fell asleep sometime in the last half hour.

We bought this backpack from a guy in Post Falls just a couple of weeks ago. He posted it on Craigslist and we scooped it up! Milli just loves it because she can see above our heads. Everything is new to her and hiking gives her so much to look at! 

Don't worry, Grandma and Nana, I put her hat on her when it began to get cold.

Nature was at it's best this weekend. We saw a cute little mouse, some baby squirrels, fast running mountain streams with little waterfalls, and more. But the real beauty began when we left the woods. 

We left the park around 7 pm. As we were rounding one of the corners, we saw what we thought was a hawk soaring very low. It landed on a fencepost just as we were passing and turned out not to be a hawk.

It seemed a little early for him to be out, sunset being around 9:30 pm right now. We passed him by, but had to turn around for a picture. He was so pretty and sat politely on the post until we got several good shots of him. Milli didn't seem to care that we were seeing a pretty bird. Maybe in a few years.

Right after we saw the owl, we saw a beautiful doe standing on the edge of the road. Deer are very prevalent in Michigan, where we are from, so you would think we wouldn't care so much. They are pests and people hit them with their cars all the time back home. But despite their annoying qualities, I still find them beautiful. We did not get a picture of her or any of her friends which we saw in the fields as we passed. When we tried to point out the very close doe to Milli, she looked with interest in the opposite direction and missed her. That's OK. I'm sure she'll see more.

But God wasn't done showing us his handiwork yet. Not even close.

Trees are my second favorite thing in nature- mostly deciduous because of the fall colors, but conifers are pretty, too. In two and a half weeks, we'll be traveling through the Redwood National Park, so I might change my mind about my tree preference then. I'll let you know.

My most favorite thing in nature is sky.

Can you blame me? This is the sky that met us as we were leaving the wheat fields. I had just been talking to my sister about sky and the place it holds at the top of my favorites list. She asked me why- and as we saw this sky, I repeated what I had told her to my husband. Sky is my favorite because it is different every time you look at it. The cloud formation that is cannot be repeated. Therefore, the sky that we are looking at this moment is seen only by us- no one who ever existed before us has ever seen it and no one who comes after us will ever see it. This piece of art is for us only. It is for now only. After I said this to my husband, he brushed my face with the back of his hand and said, "Reba, you are a poet!" That seemed a stretch to me, since someone else could have rendered the idea much more artfully than I had. But the concept is poetic. I guess I would say I am more of a romantic- I find the romance in the sky and try to share it. My response to him was "THAT is poetry," with an emphatic pointing of my hand. "What else you got!" he shouted at the sky. God responded with...

Now, you have to ignore all the man made stuff in the foreground. There is a beautiful double rainbow beyond it. The bow to the left got brighter and brighter as we drove. The bow to the right was only around a moment.

Rainbows are distinctly special because of the promise that comes with them. God put his bow in the sky and promised that never again would he destroy the entire earth with water. Rainbows have become a symbol to many of all the promises of God. 

The most memorable rainbow for me was when I was driving back from Minnesota with my friend Kristen Crisher. She had been having a very bad month. We were roommates at the time and I had tried to share her burdens with her; but it had been an especially bad month. As we were driving and talking, the clouds in the sky parted just enough to let a ray of sun through... and a rainbow shot across the sky. KC immediately smiled and cried at the same time. "God is faithful," she said. 

And He was. 

And He is.

First Impressions of Spokane, WA

I moved to Spokane almost two years ago. Before I moved, I had no idea what to expect. People back home (Michigan) kept saying things like, "Oh, you're moving to Washington? Hope you like rain" or "The Pacific Northwest is really beautiful, you'll love it!" Well, we moved to Eastern Washington, which is not very wet at all; but they were right to say we would love it. There are many reasons we love it here, but this post is about my first impressions, so I'll have to tell you some of the reasons later.

My very first impression of Spokane was that it didn't look so different from Michigan. We drove West on I-90 from Idaho and went up Division to eat breakfast at The Old European. I-90 looked like every other highway and Division looked like 28th Street in Grand Rapids. Granted, it was all surrounded by mountains, which is VERY different. It was a mild August day and the sun was out, so it seemed very nice.

The Old European was the first public place we went. We arrived around 7, which is when the restaurant opens. That seemed strange to me for a breakfast place. In Michigan, they open at 5- 6 at the latest. I assumed people out West were a little more laid back. Our waitress was super nice. She offered us free samples, by which she meant an entire serving, of the mango crepes and dutch baby. I had already ordered the Scandinavian cake plate, so we went home with half the food. I have had really great service at a few places before, but this stuck out. Little did I know that this was normal behavior in Washington! Everywhere we went had great- and I mean GREAT!- customer service. I even got great service from fellow customers who showed me where things were and answered questions I had. People were ridiculously nice! This actually made it difficult when church hunting because I often can rule out a church for not being welcoming enough- not this time!

Another thing we noticed right off about Spokane is the drive up coffee shacks. We have one- ONE- in Grand Rapids and I always wondered how they could stay in business. I never saw cars there. But here... there are hundreds! There are even chains! And they all have crazy names, like:

Java Hut is a chain. There is also Java, the Hut.

I will!

One of my favorite names. This one is on my way to work.

Took me a while to catch this one.

Not to brag...

I love this name and logo! Every time I see one (also a chain) I think, "We're on a mission from God!"

I never knew the Dutch to be famous for coffee. Although, they were coffee traders... and slave traders... same ships.

Tee Hee.

Random.

Common name.

This chain has women in bikinis as their advertisement. They are the Hooters of coffee.

Cute.

Some have names. Jacob's has at least 2 locations. Debbie's has a couple, too.

I didn't actually take this photo.

 Wake up Call is one of my favorite locations. I say that, having not had coffee from any. Since I get my coffee for free, I have not sampled any of the huts. But this has one of the most distinct buildings. Although, Ed said something funny. He wonders how many people understand the red phone booth and the way it relates to a wake up call. No one under 20 has ever seen a phone booth unless they watch Dr. Who.

I have wanted to write this post for two years. Most of these pictures were taken the first week we lived here. Better late than never, I suppose. I have some very good second and third impressions of Spokane, but there is not room in this post.

One Month To Go

We are moving to Texas this month. Well, we're leaving Washington this month. We won't get to Texas until next month. Details later.

This is the Terminator as Texas

We have a few apprehensions about our future home. Let me put it in perspective. When we told people we were moving to Washington, they said one of two things: "Hope you like rain" or "You will love it out there!" The first was a misconception. We didn't move to Seattle, we moved to Eastern Washington which has more of a dessert climate- dry by day and cold by night. I'd say, "Dry and hot by day," but it's only hot here in summer.  But we do love it here. So, people were half right. When we tell people that we are moving to Texas, they almost all ask, "Why?" Hm... We have also gotten comments like, "Hope you like sweet tea" (Southern stereotype), "Hope you like big bugs," "I can't wait to see you with big hair and an accent," "You want to homeschool, so you'll fit right in," "People are really friendly there," and "Well, it'll be different."

Texas

I'm trying to stay positive. I mean, I've never been to Texas or even close to Texas. I have been to 27 states, but none of those touching Texas. It will totally new, and I am up for adventure! It's just too bad that Texas has so many stereotypes and stigmas. I mean, so it tried to be it's own country- so did the entire south. Granted, I have never lived in a state where most people know what the state flag looks like, let alone have them flying in their yards. Maybe I should put up the flags of the other states I have lived in, since I only know what Michigan's looks like.

Michigan

Minnesota

 

        

Florida

Illinois

     

Washington

 Washington's flag is a little too literal to me. But, until I Google Image searched these, I had never seen them. I have, however, seen the Texas state flag... and I am not even a Texan yet!

I have made some bold statements about my future. I have said that I will never have big hair (frizzy from the humidity does not count), I will never wear make-up like Tammy Faye, and I will never own a pick-up truck. I am hoping that I don't pick up the accent, but some things cannot be helped.

These are some of the things people outside of Texas think and say about Texas:

          - People are racist there.

          - They like things big.

          - Everyone owns big trucks because they pay less for gas there (because of all the oil).

          - They think they are their own country.

          - They are super conservative there.

          - The state is full of cowboys.

          - Every truck has a gun rack.

          - People are dumb hicks there.

          - The bugs and snakes are huge!

          - Everyone is Southern Baptist and homeschools their kids.

          - It's hot!

          - It's not very cultured/diverse.

          - Everyone says "Ma'am" and "Sir."

          - Everyone wears ten gallon hats and cowboy boots.

          - They all square dance there.

          - They have a love affair with fringe.

          - All cute kids are in the pageants.

          - They all own hound dogs.

          - Every place has AC.

          - People there know who killed JR.

          - Everybody is rich off the oil there.

          - Everyone there is as stupid as Bush, Jr.

          - No one there knows what snow is.

          - You can order a Pepsi "Coke" there because all soda is "Coke."

          

I'm looking forward to having a lot of these proven wrong and a few proven right. I know that there are over 300,000 registered homeschoolers there- about 12.5% of the homeschool population of the US is there. So, 1 in 8 homeschoolers lives in Texas. That's good news to me because I hope to homeschool my little one. I also love the idea of people saying, "Sir" and "Ma'am." I just read a blog post of a Texas that also said neighbors drop in unannounced all the time. I love that idea! I wouldn't mind learning to square dance. And the outfits from Texas, while a little over the top sometimes, are kinda cute and very American (what most of the world thinks of as American). I will miss snow, although we plan to be in MI every Christmas, so I might see some then. Most of the rest I can do without. I'll blog a bit after living there a while to tell you what I discover.

Oh, to any Texans who may read this- please tell me some things about what Texas is really like. I don't mind being pleasantly surprised, but I would love to hear what you think of your own state, too. 

My next post will be about my first impressions of Spokane.

He's Always Been Faithful...

Sunday was Mother's Day. My first Mother's Day. Well, I believe last Mother's Day was really my first and I got a few cards and lots of "Happy Mother's Day"s last year. But this year I was an obvious mother. My beautiful daughter was in my arms looking perfect and daughterly. 

I sang a special in church. A few months ago, I was at Keisha Brown's house, vocal jamming. She played this song for me which I vaguely recognized, but which spoke deeply to me. It is by Sarah Groves and the link to hear it is here: http://chadandkeishastory.wordpress.com/2009/09/22/hes-always-been-faithful-to-me/

My favorite hymn has been- for at least all of my adult life, if not all of my life- Great Is Thy Faithfulness. It is the perfect hymn to describe one of my favorite attributes of God. Man is anything but faithful- even the best of us fails. But God is perfectly faithful to all of his promises and to all of his children. I belt out that hymn every time with my entire being full of joy; especially at the last verse:

"Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide,
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessing all mine with ten thousand beside!"

When I heard the Sarah Groves song, I felt the same passion of joy that I do with my favorite hymn. I asked Keisha if I could sing it in church sometime before I move. She picked Mother's Day. It was pretty perfect and fit well with the sermon, as well. One hitch: I found that I had a hard time not crying while singing the last verse.

I am not a professional singer. Well... I did get paid once, so I often joke that I am technically a professional; but I do not make a living with my voice. I'm happy with the talent God gave me and more than willing to use it for Him, but I'm no [insert your favorite artist here]. I've always made it through a song, though. I have never choked. Until Sunday.

My MO is usually to listen to a song once or twice right away and then hold off practicing until the day before the performance. Maybe two days before, if it's a hard song. I feel that I make the least mistakes when it is fresh in my mind. This I did- but when I practiced on Saturday, I broke down the first two times through on the last verse. I got it by the third time and had no trouble when I reviewed it Sunday morning at home. However, when going through it with Keisha before service, I broke down again. It was always at the same line. I got it the second time and prayed a lot before service, hoping I would be alright. I talked to myself a lot, saying that it was all fine and good for me to feel such emotion, but there might be some people that actually needed to hear those words, so I had better be audible. 

The time came. Keisha asked me if I was OK. I thought I was, so I said, "Yes." But once again, at that same line, I began to cry- the hardest yet! Tears ran down my face and I didn't recover on the next line or the next! Keisha picked up for me until the last line, which we sang together.

The thing is, I was not embarrassed. I'm still not. This song is beautiful and because of my tears, I got to express the reason behind them to each person at church and now to you. The line I kept crying over is:

"God has been faithful, He will be again."

We are moving to Texas soon, leaving the Pacific Northwest probably for good. We have loved it here and God showed us his faithfulness very powerfully in bringing us to a wonderful church so quickly. We knew no one when we moved here and now we have some wonderfully close and lifelong friends. It happened without effort from us and with almost no waiting on our part. As we move to Texas, our hope and prayer is that He will do it again.

And, as the song says, He will.

Need a tissue?

And the Recover Goes On

Ah, the simple surgery... oxymoron. 

As you know, I recently had my gall bladder removed. It was pretty easy. I felt some pain afterward, but it was not severe and fairly short lived. The hardest part seemed to be that I wasn't allowed to lift my baby for two weeks. 

Since my last post, a few things have happened. 

I returned to work on Friday, May 4 after having been off for just over a week. I still ached a little bit when I would stretch or move wrongly, but I didn't feel I needed to stay home any longer. I worked eight hours on Friday and again on Saturday, both opening shifts. I spent most of the time as an expediter, trying not to touch the bar for fear of over exerting myself. Even though I was careful, I still hurt all day Sunday and Monday. I rested on Sunday and worked a 5 hour shift Monday, during which I tried to move as little as possible. By Tuesday morning, I was feeling alright again. 

Tuesday afternoon, I had my two week post-surgical check up. The doctor pressed on my belly, asked me to cough and pronounced me healed! I was now allowed to lift my baby again, which was a good thing, because she was in my arms when he entered the examination room.

Wednesday, Milli had her six month check up. My baby is six months old already! She had only grown 1/4 of an inch and gained a few ounces since her 4 month check up, taking her from the 90th percentile to the 50th. Average isn't bad, though. Studies show that exclusively breastfed babies grow quickly for the first four months and then slow down. Guess my baby is the statistic. That's OK with me. She is healthy and very happy, so all it good.

Thursday, Milli had an ophthalmologist appointment. She has a port wine birthmark on her cheek that can be an indicator of eye issues such as lazy eye (which I have), astigmatism (which I have), or glaucoma (which I do not have). She did wonderfully with everything, even the dilation and had so much fun playing on the toys in the waiting room. There was a toy like the inside of a car with a straddle seat that we had lots of fun with. At the end, she was given a clean bill of eye health and we left happy.

That entire week, I had been working. I was scheduled 37+ hours because we were shorthanded on shift supervisors. I was tired a lot and I began to feel a little extra sore. I avoided lifting anything until after Tuesday and still tried not to hurt myself on Wednesday. Thursday, I began to really hurt.

It began around 5pm. The dull pain in my back began to become very annoying indeed. Then, I began feeling it in my chest. My gall bladderless area was hurting a bit, but the back/chest was overpowering it. By 10:30, my husband was calling my boss to say I would not be working the next day. My pain level was at about a 7 out of 10 at that point. I was so tired, but Edward convinced me to get up and walk around a bit. I did and found that lying down hurt much, much worse. I paced until I felt I could lie down again. I slept for only a few hours but was awoken by the pain. I fed Milli and began to pace again. At 11am, the pain became intense and at noon we decided to go to the ER.

Hurray. Everyone loves a visit to the ER. 

I was well enough to drive, as long as I breathed deeply. When we got there, they immediately did an EKG to make sure my heart was good. I felt like I had been kicked in the chest by a Clydesdale. My back was killing me and my gall bladder area was throbbing. I changed into a gown and sat hunched forward and Indian style on the bed. Edward held Milli as I answered the medical history questions. 

Seven hours, two CT scans, and one cocktail later, I was released with a diagnosis of acid reflux disease. Carla Roland, that dear woman, came to get Edward and Milli around six so he could eat and she could go to bed. After being released, I went to Walgreen's to get my prescription and got home around eight. I had begun to feel better at the hospital before the fancy cocktail that numbed my throat and esophagus. Because of this, I did not trust the diagnosis- it wasn't the cocktail that made me feel better, which is why the doc said it was reflux. Regardless, I was home, feeling hungry and exhausted. I thanked Carla, hugged my husband, had a good cry and headed to bed. I had called work to let them know I was not going in the next day.

Saturday, I woke aching. I has a little oatmeal for breakfast and only a few sips of coffee. I knew it was on the "no-no" list, but I also knew if I didn't wean myself from it, I would have headache and nausea, as well as pain. I rested. Ed let me take a long nap on the couch. By the late afternoon, I was feeling better. We assumed the pills were working and decided to stick to the recommended foods list- no acids. I was feeling so good that my husband took me out for a pre-Mother's Day dinner. It was also Milli's half birthday. We went to Red Lobster, yum! I ate less than 1/2 my meal, but it was still very nice.

Sunday, I woke feeling much better. We went to church where I sang a song that made me cry. I'll put that in a second post. There was a luncheon after service which was high in fruit. I ate some of it, but tried to be careful. It didn't matter. By the late afternoon, I was feeling some pain again. I had my leftover Red Lobster later but the pain got worse and worse. I had called work in the early afternoon to tell them I would be in on Monday, but by 11pm, we were calling again to say I wouldn't. My dear husband had to brave the phone both times- he hates talking on the phone to anyone, but especially strangers.

Monday, I called the doctor. I got through to his nurse and she scheduled me for an appointment for Tuesday morning. I was in pain all of Monday.

Tuesday, I felt a little better. I had been sleeping sitting up on the couch in the office and eating next to nothing for two days. The doctor examined me quickly again and said that it probably was not acid reflux and that pain just happens after surgery. He did send me down for blood tests, saying that about 3% of people do have problems because a stone passed out of the gall bladder before removal and would be blocking the main bile duct. He thought it unlikely, though. 

I had my blood drawn and went home a little discouraged. Just a few hours later, the doctor called me to say that my tests were irregular and I needed to have the stone removed the next day! Within a couple hours I had an appointment for Wednesday afternoon. 

Wednesday I felt weak. I had had pain off and on, but every day, for almost a week. I had hardly eaten the two days before and was told to fast until after my procedure. I was drinking a lot of water but my skin was still turning yellow. Jaundice was setting in. I had almost no pain on Wednesday and slept a lot. We had a lunch date with Father Jerry set for that day, and even though I cold not eat, I went along. After lunch, he dropped me off at Sacred Heart and took my dear husband and daughter home. 

The pre-op always takes the longest. I arrived before two and did not have the procedure until about four. I was home by five. This procedure was not exactly an operation- there was no cutting involved. The doctor, who reeked of smoke, sent a scope down my throat and followed it with a tool that removed the stone. There were two, actually. The other one was around my pancreas. He said he also enlarged the opening of my bile duct so that any sludge that may have passed in could pass out more easily.

When I awoke from the procedure, I felt perfect! I expected some discomfort, maybe a dry throat and disorientation like last time- but nothing! I was as good as new! It was as easy as waking up in the morning. Yes, sometime this is harder than others; but it is still pretty easy. I went home with no special instructions: no "no-no" list of foods or activities. I could sleep lying down again! I cold drink coffee without fear! I could hold my baby!

Father Jerry picked me up from the hospital and delivered me home safely. My dear husband made me some food and took care of Milli for the rest of the evening! I couldn't feed her until the next afternoon, but she has a little milk (a very little) in the freezer that held her just long enough. We had to supplement with extra helpings of solid food, which she is still getting the hang of. 

That night, I had pie.

It is now Friday and I feel just right. My husband rejoiced that I was my old self and voiced his sadness about losing a bit of me to pain over the last week. To reward him for doing so much for me, we played one of his favorite online games yesterday and will again today. I'm just so glad it is all over. Now, I can focus on life again- on getting ready for a garage sale and move, and on everyday joys, like holding my little girl.

A big shout out of thanks to Father Jerry, Carla Roland, people at work who took my shifts, everyone who prayed for me, and especially, to my loving husband who takes such good care of me.

So, I had my surgery! It wasn't so bad. I was a little nervous, but not as much as I thought I would be. I have never been put under for anything, not even my wisdom teeth removal. I have never had an IV for anything. I have never been admitted into a hospital for anything. 

The doctors said I was the perfect patient because I had nothing else wrong with me except what they intended to fix. That made me feel pretty secure. That, and the fact that my friend Carla Roland, who was just supposed to drop me off and pick me up, decided to stay the entire time with me. We chatted for a bit and we prayed before they wheeled me out. She was such a help in keeping me at peace!

The very first woman who "greeted" me when I walked into the sign in room was NOT pleasant. I would say something like, "Who can blame her? It was before 5am" if it weren't for the fact that I have been waking up at 3 for most of the last 13 years to sling coffee. She was getting water ready for the coffee machines in the waiting area and looked at me suspiciously. 

"What are you looking for?" she asked, in a very accusatory tone.

"I was told that if no one was at the sign in desk, I was to come to this room."

"Sign in on the clip board."

I grabbed a clip board from the table and filled out the piece of paper. She left to get water. When she returned, she snapped at me to take the piece of paper and put the clip board back for others to use. There were about 20 clip boards on the table and none of the other 9 people in the room were using them. One woman who had been there longer than I had, saw me sign in and went to sign in herself. She asked me what to do. A few minutes later, a young girl, her fiance (which shocked me because she looked 14) and her mom walked in with the same trepidatious look I thought I must have had when I arrived. I directed them to the clipboards and the lady snapped at them, as well.

A few minutes later another woman walked in. She worked there and I immediately hoped to have her check me in and not the snappy woman. The snappy woman came around to collect the papers we had filled out and then snapped at me again for not putting what kind of procedure I was having done. I told her and then commented that I hadn't seen a spot to put that on the sheet. 

"It's at the very top!" she snapped back. She then went to get my paperwork and when she handed the pile back to me, I looked at the top of the paper. There was a line that looked like a title and said, "Surgery, MRI, or [something else]" and apparently, we were meant to circle the one that pertained to us rather than assume it was just the title of the sheet. Uh, huh.

Carla was parking the car through most of this, but joined me as the second woman began checking people in. She checked 2 people in and called my name, but when she looked at my paper, she said she wasn't doing surgical check in. I sighed and tried to steel myself to deal with the snappy woman. But then a third woman called me over and we had a nice chat as she checked me in.

I then went to the fourth floor to check in with the nurses. I only waited a couple minutes until a nurse came to get me. Carla waited while the nurse took me down a hall with a lot of equipment along the walls and little cells off of it. She weighed me and I was pleasantly surprised (our scale is off and I never remember how much) and then led me into one of the cells. 

The rooms were super tiny! There were 2 chairs, a computer attached to the wall, and a hospital bed inside. The bed needed to be shoved cock-eyed so the nurse could open the bathroom door. She chatted with me and was very pleasant. I had to take a pregnancy test because I haven't had a period in 16 months, but it was negative. Good thing, or I would have left with my gall bladder intact and a surprise for my husband!

The nurse had me get in a gown and then ran an IV. It didn't hurt at all. She hooked me up to some fluids and an antibiotic. The doctor, another nurse, and two anesthesiologists came by to chat with me and then Carla came back to pray with me. After we prayed, the nurse started to wheel me out and the second anesthesiologist gave me a shot in my IV. It was 7:40am. I remember about 40 feet of the hallway and nothing else.

I woke up in a large recovery room around 9:30 with a lot of equipment around me. I was coughing because my throat was so dry from the breathing tube. I know I had one because they told me I would, not because I remember having one. I also felt like I was having a gall bladder attack because that area hurt. The nurse gave me some water and two Vicodin. A few minutes later I was wheeled to another cell that was a lot larger than the first one to recover. A nurse sat just outside and watched me while filling out paperwork. Carla came to sit with me and help me drink some cranberry juice. It was too cold to be pleasant. We sat in there until about 11:10 and then I told the nurse I was ready to go home. I got dressed and was wheeled out and home by 11:30am!

Carla was wonderful! All I wanted was to go to sleep; so when I got home, I greeted my mother-in-law and my daughter, thanked Carla and went up to sleep for the next 3 hours. Carla and my MIL chatted and then Carla went to the grocery store and pharmacy for us! She came back with my prescription, some Jello and a few things my MIL requested. She really took care of me!

My mother-in-law was wonderful, too! She came into town the Saturday before my surgery to hang with us and babysit for me. She did a wonderful job of keeping Milli occupied and happy. She fed her some real food as well as the breast milk I had frozen for the occasion. It lasted exactly as long as I needed it to. Milli was pretty good, but as demanding as a 5 month old is like to be.

I took two long naps that day and still slept that night. I could not nurse Milli until after noon the next day to give a full 24 hours for the anesthesia and Vicodin to get out of my system. I didn't need to take any more pain pills and I was ready to nurse her at noon on Thursday. She missed me! My MIL let me take a long nap that day, as well, and I felt so much better by the evening. I even had a little real food myself. 

Friday night I was so good that my husband made seafood enchiladas and we all went to Madeleine's for dessert. Saturday we hit Donut Parade and Sunday my husband made me bacon! I can't keep that kind of diet up, but it was so nice to be able to eat and not worry about pain.

My mother-in-law returned to MI on Saturday, leaving me to fend for myself. She had to go, but neither she nor I wanted her to. I am on a weight restriction and am not allowed to lift Milli, which makes things a little difficult, but we survived today with help from a friend and my husband. We should be OK until the restriction is lifted.

That's the news.

The Gall

I have gall stones. They are pesky and painful. I first discovered them when I was about 7 months pregnant (I was looking for the exact date of the attack- it was sometime in August). Edward was at work although the semester hadn't begun yet and I was home for the day. I was in my last trimester and was trying to get as much protein as possible. I had only gained about 10 pounds at that point, so I didn't mind adding a little more fat to my diet to achieve the protein. The day I had my first attack, I had two eggs on toast with cream cheese for breakfast and some 4% milk fat cottage cheese for lunch. This wasn't a crazy amount of fat, but it was too much for my already sick gall bladder. I began feeling pain in the center of my back in the late morning and I tried to stretch it out thinking it was just a muscle issue. I don't usually have center back pain but I have a lot of lower back pain, so I knew how to work out those muscles. The ache was very annoying but it didn't stop me from eating lunch. Very soon after lunch, the pain became more than annoying. I lay on my bed and tried to get comfortable but there was no way to do it.  The pain got worse and worse. I wanted my husband!

I knew that Baby was fine. She was moving as usual, I had no contractions, she didn't seem to be in any kind of distress. I was not worried about her except by worrying that if something was wrong with me, it would affect her. As the pain worsened, I began to cry a bit. I wanted my husband and I wanted to feel better. I wasn't super worried, as nothing major has ever happened to me physically and this didn't feel life threatening. But it got worse. And worse. My husband finally came home around noon or one and I called him upstairs right away. He held me and asked what was wrong. He was worried and I tried to reassure him, but pain scares him more than it does me- and when a loved one is in pain, it is often worse for the one watching. He rubbed my back and held me, kept asking me what he should be doing. I didn't know. But then the pain became so bad that I ran to the bathroom and vomited. He immediately got on the phone with the midwife, who said it was probably gall stones (that meant nothing to us) and he should take me to the emergency room. 

My husband doesn't drive, so he called a colleague whom he had just left at the office. Chris LaSota came quickly and drove us to Deaconess. He was the most nervous of the three of us, at least outwardly. My husband was calm on the outside and did a really remarkable job of dealing with something that scared him to death. I was still in pain, although not to the point of vomiting any more. Chris dropped us off at Emergency and they said it was probably gall stones and then directed us to Labor and Delivery. I told them I was not in labor, but they said it was policy to send all pregnant women there just in case.

The wheeled me up and put me in a comfortable room. I changed into a gown and they hooked me up to a fetal monitor. Edward called the mothers, his first because she had called while we were in the car on the way to the hospital and he was afraid he had scared her. She had called our sister-in-law who is a doctor, in the mean time, and was told it was probably gall stones. The nurse who took my history and vitals and was watching the baby monitor also said it was probably gall stones. No one seemed to be worried and the pain had lessened enough that I was calm and tired. Edward was still nervous but was wonderful and stayed with me most of the time even though it is in his nature to walk briskly when nervous. 

After a couple hours, a urine sample and a blood draw, the doctors told me they had ruled out all life threatening possibilities and that is was probably gall stones. The baby was fine and after giving me some juice, they sent me home. Our midwife set me up with an appointment to have an ultrasound done on my gall bladder. I had a horrible cold that day and kept choking on phlegm as the imaging operator worked. I caught a glimpse of a baby foot as she was making a wide pass of that area. Then I had to wait for another week to find out the results. Meanwhile, I was not allowed to eat fat.

At my next prenatal appointment which was my last in August, I was told that I had two large stones and some sludge, whatever that meant. Because I was pregnant, there was nothing that could be done, so I was told to "limp along" until Baby came and eat as little fat as possible. So I did- I ate close to 10 grams a day, which is ridiculously hard! I mean, there is a gram in a slice of bread and two or three in one serving of most cereal. All meat and most dairy have fat. And I can only drink soy or almond milk, both of which contain fat. My meals became less varied and I could hardly eat out at all. I remember eating out once and having very plain fish, steamed greens and rice. Why bother?

But I didn't have another attack while pregnant. And I lost the 10 pounds I had gained within two weeks. By the time I was in labor, I weighed a total of 2 pounds more than I had before I got pregnant. And after Baby was out, I was -18 pounds. Not bad at all! 

I was told that when I was no longer pregnant, I could let up on the restrictions a bit. I ate pizza the night Milli was born. My mother-in-law was visiting and she made us comfort food, none of which was super heavy in fat, but none of which was really low fat. There was ground beef and chicken, mayonnaise and milk, cheese and butter. We even had a pie! But I was still sort of careful. I didn't have another attack for a few weeks. 

But eventually, they came again. I had a couple attacks while home for Christmas and a couple in January. I had several in February and a really bad one on my birthday in March. Granted, I had splurged and had the most amazing chocolate dessert ever from Elliot's Oyster House in Seattle: Sunken Chocolate Soufflé à la Mode filled with dark chocolate ganache and served warm with Madagascar vanilla ice cream. It was worth the first 2 hours of the three hour attack, in my opinion. On that trip, I discovered that a really hot bath helped a great deal. My husband drew one for me after two hours and I fell asleep in it. It caused the same reaction that the hot bath during my labor did- all pain dulled or ceased and I felt all the tiredness of the hours beforehand. 

After that attack, my husband and mother-in-law insisted that I call a doctor. I had been saying I would for months, but after the attacks were over, it didn't seem that important. I also wasn't sure how to go about it. But a few Sundays before, I had met a women at a Pampered Chef party who had recently had her gall bladder removed by a nice doctor. She gave me his name and a great recommendation. After talking with my mother-in-law one day, I called his office to make an appointment. The result is, I am having surgery. Goody. I have never had surgery of any kind before. In fact, I have never been admitted to a hospital before. Actually, I still won't have been admitted, I think, as this is an out patient procedure. My mother-in-law is coming to stay with me while I have it done to drive me back and forth and to help with the baby. 

From what everyone has told me, and I was surprised how many people I know who have had this procedure done, it is pretty easy and has a quick recovery. I have heard people say they were at work the next day and that they only took pain meds for one day. I am taking the week off as the doctor recommended, but I am hoping to avoid taking pain medication if possible. I know I will not be able to nurse for a bit, but I don't want it to be an extended bit.

I am not at all excited about the idea of being cut into, even if they are only 1/2 inch incisions. But I am looking forward to a visit from my mother-in-law, a week off from work, and a doughnut from Donut Parade when I am finished!