Steri-Strips and Dora Band-Aids

For the record, the surgery went very well. The folks at Hopkins took great care of us and my uterus was indeed in need of some housecleaning. We’ll have a post-op appointment in a little over a week, and then we’ll get pathology results that will enlighten us about what everything means. However, since they did a great deal of work in there, the recovery has been unexpectedly difficult. Instead of 2 incisions, we ended up with 4, and I’ll be very pleased to become less aware of my internal organs again. Every day, I feel better than I did the day before, and I’m told that that is what’s important. The improvements are in tiny increments, though, and I’m getting stir crazy.

On the upside, my husband has been spoiling me rotten with attention and milkshakes. I can’t lie, I love having his full attention. What can I say? He’s super cute. I may or may not be milking this a bit.

One of my steri-strips tore off a few days ago, caught on my fingernail as the pants went down. After Stu scraped me off the floor and convinced me that I was NOT seeing straight into my ovary, I recovered the incision with the first thing I could find: A Dora band-aid.

Sidenote: I’m a total wuss. My face changes and drains color like a chameleon, and no amount of willpower can stop it.

Blake saw the Dora band aid this morning and was fascinated. This is the exact position he assumed when he said, “So, I’m sharing my Dora band aids with you now?”

As you can only imagine, Stu has recently acquired a very real and fresh appreciation for the single parents out there. I’ve belly laughed (no small feat) at some of the tasks whose existence he had been completely unaware of. We are both so spoiled by each other that we’re incapable of doing each other’s job. Thank God we have friends who’ve provided meals for us, because I honestly was getting a tad worried for a minute. He’s also just been bored. A Stu without a project is almost no Stu at all. He’s been forbidden to accidentally rip up even one tile in the bathroom that he’s dying to remodel, so he’s been roaming the house, hunting for a low-cost project to occupy his hands. A trip down to the basement proves that he’s found one:

There’s a hole in the wall, Dear Liza.

He’s going to put built-in shelving in the space under the stairs. It’s actually super cool, but I can’t help but laugh at his technique. He knows that if he puts a hole in the wall, there’s no turning back.

I gotta go, my alarm just said I can take another pain pill. See ya in rehab!

 

 

Today’s the Day!

The surgery is diagnostic. Laparoscopy. We’re trying to find a reason for my infertility and make sure that there aren’t any issues that would affect my health. As this date approached, I have asked myself if I was undergoing an extreme measure for the sake of fertility. Talking to the doctor yesterday, I was reminded that there are issues that could affect my fertility, but also my health. He was in great support of the procedure, and his confidence was catching. He said that during this procedure, he regularly finds “surprises” (comforting? ha). He could find anything from ovarian cancer to endemetriosis. The more common issues found and fixed during this procedure are endemetriosis, cysts, scar tissue, and adhesions. Other “surprises” that would require any more extensive surgery would not happen today. They would be discussed and dealt with at a later date. And that’s all very unlikely.

It’s an outpatient procedure, so once I prove that I can eat, drink and pee, I’ll be back home.  I’m hoping we find a problem that is fixable, and no problems that are serious.I talked about this on facebook and was humbled by the outpouring of love by my friends. I’m grateful that this is nothing serious, so many of you are dealing with so much more. Perspective is not lost on me.

Now, can we discuss fasting for a moment? There’s something about knowing I can’t eat that makes me the most revenous woman on the planet at 9am. The procedure’s not til 2:15, Stu’s going to have a long day with a very hungry woman.

🙂

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before

I’m still not pregnant. I have refained from writing about this for several reasons, but I find it to be the most therapuedic outlet. Putting tangible words to my feelings feels so good, and I don’t fully understand why. However, one of the reasons I hate talking about it is that people insinuate that this deep longing equates to stress and dissatisfation with my life. With the absolute best of intentions, everyone wants to advise me to relax. Please know the irony of my next statemnt is not lost on me: When people tell me to relax, I want to “type-scream”: I AM RELAXED!!! Inhale. Exhale. In all reality, I really, truly am quite content. I know that having a longing in my heart cannot be allowed to morph into dissatisfaction. That is where these feelings can be dangerous. Dissatisfaction could lead to ingratitude, and to me, there’s nothing worse than an ingrate.

I would achieve the perfect state if I were able to decipher my own selfish emotions from the God-given desires of the heart. I know, from past experience, that God places the appropriate desires in our heart when we are walking closely to him and letting his Holy Spirit guide us. My prayer, daily, is that I know his voice so well that the longings of my heart fit into his purposes for my life. I pray that he would take this longing from me, if it is never to be fulfilled. If he wants for us to adopt a child, instead, I’m more than willing. He hasn’t ignited that fire in me, though, and I fervently pray he will when the time is right.

Yesterday, after taking another negative pregnancy test, I headed off to Tuesday morning Bible study (feet may have been dragging ever so slightly). What a gift those Tuesday mornings are! There, I find a community of women who are of many different ages, ethnicities, upbringings, callings, marital statuses, and even types of mothers. I study with women who have birthed their own large families, women who have adopted their whole beautiful families from this country and other countries, by taking in children at ages ranging from infancy to grown kids. I study with women who have never even been able to have one beautiful child, whose longings must feel a thousand times more insurmountable than mine. Some of the women have been blessed with children, only to have them taken back to heaven all too quickly. Watching the strength of their faith makes me catch my breath. Some are battling life threatening illnesses, and some are concerned with finding work for them or their husbands. Several in our group are actively working to improve the lives of drug addicted people, feed and clothe the homeless, care for and counsel terrified pregnant girls, and some are not there often because they have commited their lives to full time ministry as missionaries. When people accuse Christians of not caring about social issues, I usually chuckle at the fact that they clearly don’t hang out with many Christians. The women I spend time with on a regular basis completely humble me. We are so different. Yet we all have a common goal: to draw closer to God. With that common goal, we find a beautiful bond to one anotherr. It’s the perfect place to be when I’m finding myself completely confused and exasperated. If you are a believer who is not regualrly spending time with people who will encourage you in your faith, I know for a fact that you are more and more susceptible to doubt and lies. Just yesterday morning, I found myself asking a tiny little question that is a seed of doubt: “Does God care?” They can see my struggle and they remind me of what is true: God cares deeply. God has good plans for my family, and there is still so much to be learned from this wait.

We’re studying the birth of Christ and just learned about how Mary, when told that she would be the mother of God’s Son, exhibited amazing faith. She believed God and submitted immediately. Yet, in his great mercy, he still told her how she could find earthly confirmation for her amazing experience. He told her that her (barren) cousin Elizabeth, in her old age, had also concieved a baby. The scripture says that Mary hurried to her cousin (no short journey). On that journey, she must have wondered a couple of times if she was crazy. maybe she questioned if that announcement from the angel really happened, or if she had had an amazing dream. But then she got to Elizabeth’s house. Upon hearing Mary’s greeting, it says that the baby in Elizabeth’s womb lept and that she immediately prophesied what Mary alreadey knew: that she was carrying the Son of God. In God’s mercy, he provided a friend for Mary with whom she could commiserate during such an intense time in both their lives. He let her have real and earthly confirmation. He’s good to us. I’m glad he gave us friendship.

Prospero Ano y Felicidad

Some thoughts on New Years Day.

1. I don’t get all hyped about New Years Resolutions, but I have one for this year. I’d like to get back to making my own bread. I started way back here and actually stuck with it for quite some time, but life got busy and one purchased loaf turned into another.

2. Blake has taken on the hysterical new habit of calling Stu my husband, as if he’s someone I dated and married after Blake came along. He says things like “Mom! Your husband helped me put my shoes on!” and “Does your husband have to go to work today?” My favorite, though, was when he woke up on Stu’s birthday, with Team Fahs (who had been over for a slumber party). He looked around and yelled, “Hey kids!! Today is my mom’s husband’s birthday!”

3. I’m pleased to announce that Blake is as in love with Christmas as I am. Without a huge barrage of presents. We (kind of and mostly) stuck to our 3 present rule (although one grandmother cheated some). Santa brought him a 9.99 cardboard playhouse and markers with which to color it. Santa actually left Blake a letter saying that he couldn’t help but pull out Blake’s own awesome train set and playing a bit before he left. Blake hadn’t seen that train set in months and Santa had set it up using just about every piece, which really added to the wow factor of Christmas morning. B played with his own toy for quite some time!

I was honestly a bit scared that without a huge pile of presents, I wouldn’t be able to captivate him with the holiday. I was wrong. When I explained that we were taking down the tree, his lip poked out in, truly, the saddest face. He began to cry and just said, “I don’t want Christmas to be over.” Me neither, kid.

4. I’m nervous and excited to start running again, hopefully this week. Breaking my toe back in October really threw me out of what had been a successful running streak. As soon as the coughing fits lay off, I’m starting back. They’re getting better everyday, everyone in this house is almost sleeping through the night without a cough party. Anyways, I’ve been using the holidays to pad my start weight so that my results would be even more inspiring. 🙂

5. We chose not to travel this year for Christmas, and the quality time that we’ve had here at home with Blake has been absolutely priceless. He’s maturing into a little boy before my eyes. 2 nights ago, while I was making dinner, he asked to help. He’s been asking that about everything, and I so want to encourage him! I thought he’d lose interest pretty quickly, but this time he didn’t. He poured ingredients into the pan, helped me stir, grated cheese, and watched our casserole de leftovers as it baked. Then he asked if we could make juice. We did happen to have entirely too many oranges and limes, so I agreed to pull out the juicer. Stu came in to help me peel (the worst part of juicing). We tackled the limes and handed B one orange. we figured that would entertain him until we finished everything else. That boy surprised us both and peeled all of the oranges! He stuck with us through the juicing process as well, and we both marveled at our son, who had just started and finished a very tedious task! His prayer before dinner: “Dear Lord, thank you that I could play and have SO much fun with my family.” Amen

6. Pamela gave Blake the Jesus Storybook Bible for Christmas. I love this book more than words can express. It takes the stories of the Bible and simplifies them, so that my little boy can understand them. We are reading a couple every day and he is loving it! More importantly, it explains how every story, starting with Adam and Eve, points to Jesus. I’ve been moved to tears several times, because I myself had not realized how connected these stories were.

Finally, Happy New Year to you! The Hills have high hopes that 2012 is the year, one way or another, we become a family of 4… or 5!  🙂