Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Evan is just over two months old.  FOUR TIMES in the past two weeks, I have had people ask me when I am due while at work.  FOUR TIMES.  One went even as far to ask "boy or girl?" ...so clearly I looked far enough along to know the gender.  I don't have the guts (no pun intended) to correct them, so I just kind of smile and walk away.  The first two times it was funny to me and I joked about it.  The second two times... it got freaking OLD and started to make me feel really bad.

It also got me thinking, though.  I take terrible care of myself.  There was a time, many years ago, when I never took any medication.  Ever.  I remember a time I had a headache and my mom suggested I take a Tylenol.  It literally never occurred to me to take some Tylenol, and when I did take some, I was amazed that it helped!  I just never thought "medicine" when I had any little symptom.

Being diagnosed with post-partum depression 9 years ago after Ethan's birth, I believe, started the downward spiral of turning to chemicals to help every little symptom.  When I saw my doctor and was evaluated (I was in a very, very bad spot, so medication definitely saved me, please don't get me wrong) ...I had no idea what I was taking, as I had never heard of antidepressants before.  Prozac?  Zoloft?  Lexapro?  All foreign to me.  I remember she also gave me Ativan for the panic attacks I was having, and I couldn't even pronounce it.  I had no idea what it was, I just knew it made me sleepy.

I haven't taken medication for the past 9 years straight and I honestly don't know exactly when it started and what started it, but I because  I legitimately do suffer from anxiety and depression, I started taking an antidepressant daily, and an anti-anxiety medication as needed.  My anxiety caused horrible insomnia, which lead to being prescribed a sleeping pill on top of that.  Then it got to where I was dependent on sleeping pills to fall asleep, and since there is literally NO sleeping pill that is safe for every night usage, I was put on all different kinds of medications to help, none of which worked or magically cured the inability to fall asleep without relying on some form of pill.  Then I started getting daily headaches, so I took Excedrin.  Excedrin is VERY well known for causing rebound headaches, which meant I started taking it more frequently, which lead to taking it daily for the headaches.  So I would take a pill to help me sleep, wake up feeling groggy with a nagging headache (gee, wonder why?) and take medication for the headache and caffeine for energy and to make me feel more alert, then at night repeat the cycle.  It has now gotten to the point that for every little symptom, I think, "there's gotta be a medication for this."  Where the heck did I go wrong??!  OF COURSE I feel crummy every single day.  My body has literally zero idea how to just do what it was meant to do.  My brain has become so trained to think this is okay, that I have allowed it to continue far too long.

(This started out as a weight thing and I totally went off on a tangent...stay with me, here.)

Bottom line, I feel like I lost control.  I eat terribly.  I skip meals very often and I love sugar and carbohydrates like it's nobody's business so I am sure my blood sugar is all over the place (no, I am not diabetic) ...but that can't be helping the headaches.  When I work a 12 hour shift, I will not use the bathroom ONCE during the entire time, so my fluid intake is horrendous (hello, headache!) I don't even allow my body to try to fall asleep naturally, so that thought is completely foreign to me now, but I have zero consistency in my sleeping regimen... I stay up late, some days I nap, I occasionally get to sleep in on the weekends when I'm off work and Jay is home, etc.  There is no routine whatsoever.  I don't exercise AT ALL with the exception of my job (which I do feel is pretty physically demanding).

So yeah.  A light bulb went off in my over-medicated brain this afternoon.   I hate people looking at me and thinking that I am pregnant when I am certainly NOT.  It hurts my feelings and makes me feel more self-conscious than I already am.  But... obviously I am showing the signs of being very out of shape to make people question it so I can't place blame on anyone but myself.

So I am going to try something new.  I'm going to "detox", so to speak.  I'm going to attempt more structure.  Less inactivity, more activity.  It's going to suck.  BIG time.  I'm already feeling the caffeine headache.  But I am going to do this.  If not for me and my own pride, then for my kids who need a positive role model in their lives and we can ALL benefit from healthy living.  My 9 year old already plays way to many video games.  This is an opportunity to break him from the television and get active.  My 3 year old is SUPER active, but has my sweet tooth.  If the two of us don't have the sugar in the house, then we will have to find something else to satisfy the urge.  She's 3 and I am 31.  It's time to retrain her little brain NOW while she's little than to wait until she's in her 30's like me.  She's worth it.

I have no idea if I can do this.  I don't have much confidence in myself at all, but it's worth a shot, right?

That's what I thought.

Sunday, July 21, 2013

I don't know the exact date, but right around this time last year is when I found out I was pregnant.  Not with Evan.  With a different baby.

How it came about is actually kind of strange.  I have always used birth control and never had any issues.  Both of my previous pregnancies were very much planned.  I'd go off the pill, get pregnant, then resume it again.  With Ethan, it took about 3 months to get pregnant.  Allison took about 16 months.  For this pregnancy, though, we were not planning on any more babies, so I was taking it as I always did.  Then I started noticing that every single day I was having stomach aches.  I never felt well.  I thought nothing of it, just that it was really annoying.  One day while grocery shopping, I threw a pregnancy test in the cart, truly not thinking much of it.  I took it when I got home:  positive.  I cried.  This was not what we planned.  I was scared and unprepared.  Little did I know, I would only knowingly "have" that baby for a week, because almost a week to the day, I miscarried.  It was horrendous and so painful.  I cried so much.  I remember the exact moment Jay said, "I guess maybe our family ISN'T complete," based on how devastated we were by our loss.

It was then that we came to the decision that we would put it into God's hands.  Jay would be turning 31 4 months from the miscarriage, so if I didn't get pregnant by then, we would make our decision final and turn towards permanent methods of birth control.

Three weeks later, I got another positive pregnancy test.  The line was SO faint, but I could see it.  I called my OB and she was VERY skeptical.  She gave me an appointment to see her, but she made it very far out.  I was nearly 11 weeks when I finally saw and and it was officially confirmed.  I was pregnant again, and I was due May 15.

May 17 is when our miracle entered this world:  Evan Jack.  His middle name, Jack, is after Jay's Grandpa. My heart has ALWAYS told me he is still very much with us despite the fact that he passed away of brain cancer about 8 years ago.  My miscarriage was what I would consider my "rock bottom" after my sister's incident in 2010.  I couldn't stop thinking, "Really, God?  Now THIS??"  Getting pregnant again, while scary and the pregnancy was less than ideal with all the health scares, has restored my faith.  I was blessed with this incredible little life, and I just KNOW a higher power sent him to me to soften my heart.  And it worked.  I stare at Evan in awe.  Occasionally, he will look around the room and smile.  He's not looking at anything in particular, but there is no doubt that whatever he IS looking at, he is seeing.  I can't see it, but he can, and the smile on his face and the sparkle in his eyes make me feel he is seeing something very, very special.  I don't think it's someTHING, though.  I think it's someONE.  And the sparkle in Evan's blue eyes matches the sparkle that used to be in his great-grandpa's blue eyes.

Thank you, Jack Kowalski, for sending Evan Jack to us.