Things I Love Thursday

There is only one thing I can think of loving this week.



Everything is Different

If people would’ve told me three months ago when I started this blog that my life would be totally and completely different in just a few months, I would’ve laughed at them and rolled my eyes. My life was JUST fine and did not need to change, thank you very much. Then again, I probably would’ve believed them, but would never admit it.

I’m having a hard time adjusting. I didn’t want to change before the baby was born, but now that he’s here, I want everything to change. I’m alright with things being different, but I don’t know how to change the things I want to change.

After shit hit the fan in August I started counseling. It’s free from my work (they offer it to avoid problems and lawsuits) and my counselor is able to work with me on all issues, work, family, life, and what makes me tick. In the past I’ve tried it, but it didn’t seem to help me much. Reluctantly I started, and was pleasantly surprised at the turns that it took to help me find myself. The problem was that my counselor kept telling me I needed to paint the life I wanted and go get it.

Problem was, I had no idea what I wanted. The life I had was beautiful and perfect enough at that time. I didn’t think I wanted a change.

Then baby boy came. As soon as I held him in my arms I realized that I wanted everything to change. I knew my life had just changed for the best. My mind was flooded with all the things I wanted and needed to do. I realized that things were going to be okay, but I still felt overwhelmed.

I’ve been making lists. Trying to come up with ways to write out or verbalize what I want from my life. When I get online and check Pinterest and other blogs I feel overwhelmed. There is so much I want to do, so much I want to become.

The other big thing keeping me back is where I feel totally miserable and hateful towards myself; I’m starting to exhibit signs of postpartum depression. My mother had it. My mother-in-law had it. I’ve struggled with depression for years. I know I’ll probably get it, but I hate myself when I start showing signs of it. My husband doesn’t get it. He looks at the baby and is totally in love. I’m totally in love too, but I struggle so much with trying to be happy all of the time.

Husband is awesome. He lets me sleep at night and tends to the baby, then goes to work the next day and even offers to let me nap when he gets home from work. He helps me cook dinner and when the baby is fussy he lets me do what I need to do to clear my head. My husband is amazing. Me? Not so much.

Everything is different. That’s not a bad thing. Everything needs to change, and I hope that I can handle the changes that come.

Music Monday

Why I Blog

About four years ago now I started a blog called “Dani’s Anatomy.” I remember setting up the template and staring at a blank screen for hours, unsure of what to write. Originally inspired by my best friends blog about working in the ED, I too, wanted to share the stories from my job and my life. I just had no idea where to start.

Finally, realizing that it didn’t matter, that I had no readers anyways, I took the plunge and posted that first post.

Everything after that came easy. It became therapeutic. I followed all of the HIPAA laws, protected privacy, and gained followers as time went by. Things became fun with work, because I was focused on making the best of my shift, making it one worth writing about. Before I knew it my blog was popular in the mediblog community, and I was getting invites to participate in podcasts, I had guest bloggers on my blog, things were going well.

I changed from blogger to wordpress, gained more followers. Changed layouts. Changed job positions. My blog posts got more personal, longer, more popular. Things were going well til they weren’t.

After awhile I quit blogging. I was sick and tired of it. Of the attitudes from other  bloggers. Of the stress of blogging. So I shut it all down. Blocked the URLs, deleted the blog posts, and password protected everything. I walked away without notice, I called it quits.

I tried to start again under the blog name “Cicatrix”. It is latin for “healing over a wound”, commonly known as scars. I blogged about my life, my job, but this time something even more raw and painful- my depression and my history with SI. The community I thought I had returned to did not accept this, and again, I quit blogging.

This last year I started again, in November. I started because I missed having a place to share my thoughts, emotions and stories. I missed having something to help me. I missed the therapy of being able to write. That’s who I am, it’s what I’ve always done. I’ve always been a writer, a blogger.

Now, I blog strictly for me. I post what I want, when I want to post it. I post about my life, my likes, my dislikes, my family. It’s my space, and I’m taking this space for me.

I blog for me.

Happy Valentines Day!

I’m not going to waste your time with some mushy-gushy love song lyrics.

I’m not going to post about my wonderful husband (I’ll save that for another day).

I’m not going to post a recipe or a DIY craft.

I’m just going to post a photo from my wedding.

We Had Our Baby!

Last blog post I wrote was an hour before all of the commotion of the past week. That was almost a week ago now. I am so thankful I blogged ahead in preparation for the baby so that the blog would not suffer.

Monday afternoon we went into the OB’s office. She took my BP and it was very high. The MA was worried it was her error, so  they did it twice. The doctor asked me about my headaches, if they were like my normal migraines. My hands and feet were more swollen than ever. Things were getting risky. She informed me she wanted to induce me as soon as possible.

We called the hospital and let them know I needed to come in. They informed me I was to go in that night and they’d begin the induction. We went home, grabbed our bags and went to the hospital. I was honestly terrified. We had hoped for a morning induction, for one last night just my husband and I to be at home, sleep in our own bed, go to dinner, but alas, we spent that last night checking into Labor and Delivery.

The nurse was fantastic and explained everything very well. As the night went on my blood pressure kept creeping up higher and higher. After the first dose of induction medication they found that nothing had happened. They started the second dose and we were back to waiting. It was about midnight and I knew I was in for a long adventure. The nurse offered me some pain meds for the contractions I was going to feel until I could get the epidural (I wanted to do naturally if baby came naturally, but if  I was going to be induced I wanted drugs.) I slept for two hours and then woke up in an incredible amount of pain.

The nurse offered me some more pain meds. I hate taking pain meds, I took Tramadol after my shoulder was operated on when the doctors offered me shots of demerol, morphine and lortabs. I HATE how I feel on pain meds and tried to fight it. After twenty minutes I  couldn’t do it anymore. The nurse checked again and I had doubled in dilation (1.5 cm to almost 4). They called anesthesia to come down for my epidural.

Then the anesthesiologist dropped a bomb on me. She was questioning whether she COULD do my epidural due to my Von Willenbrands (my blood doesn’t clot like it should) and my L1-L5 rupture. I literally was writhing in pain and refused to hold my husbands hands because I know I would hurt him. After we talked for awhile (more like her asking questions and me whimpering my answers) she decided she could do it after all. The nurse checked me again, in that thirty minute conversation I was at a 5. We had to get it in now.

I felt horrible while she was placing it, because I was contracting the whole time and wiggling and squirming. I tried not to, but my body wasn’t my own. My husband had to hold my shoulders and back down, while the nurse held my hands and tried to talk me through breathing during contractions. I wanted to cry because I was stressed and because I was scared. I knew I was in good hands, but felt so weak. I remember I kept apologizing, telling people “I’m so sorry I’m such a wimp. I know women have babies in corn fields with no meds all the time and here I am bitching.” They kept laughing at me and telling me I was fine, but I felt otherwise.

Epidural was in and things were okay for a little bit. When I found out the medication was bupivicane I was happier than ever. We work with it a lot at work and I was thankful it was a drug that I was familiar with, as well as have had before. I tried to rest, but before long my contractions were returning with a vengeance. The nurse discovered that the anestheiologist had been pulled into an emergency C-Section and hadn’t connected my epidural pump to me. She had to take the pump into the OR to program it and came running back to attach it to me. I didn’t mind, I just was thankful to have it attached again.

After a long phone call with my doctor the nurse decided I was progressing too fast and that they needed to get me an injection of a drug to slow the labor down. I didn’t quite understand it, but did understand one thing; they knew better and were far more clear minded than I was at this point. We had the same goal: healthy, happy baby, and safe, healthy mom. I agreed and they gave me the shot. At this point my BP was dropping due to the epidural (pain relief), and due to the medication, however, my pulse was now in the 140’s, matching my babys pulse. Again, they were worried.

Night shift was over and the nurses came in to do rounds. I met my day nurse who checked to see where I was at. She said I was at a 5 still and left me to rest. They put me on 15L of O2 and told me to try to relax. I did what I could, and after a little bit my mom and mother in law arrived for the morning. It was only 830 and I told them to go get something to eat. They refused and the nurse came in the check me again. In the last hour I was at a 10 and baby was ready to go, despite the meds to slow things down.

They paged my doctor and she hurried in from her office where she was doing the first visits of the day. She arrived at 930 and we started the delivery process. The only people in the room was my husband, doctor, nurse, student nurse and I. The mothers went out to the lobby and thirty minutes later we had them come back in to meet their new grandson.

Baby boy was born 6lbs, 12oz, 19in. He was healthy and very athletic- rolling over when they did his APGAR test! He has my nose and his dads mouth and chin (and lack of neck). He’s absolutely adorable and I am totally and completely smitten by this new little man in my life.

Since then he’s been well loved by as much family as can be around him. Aunts and Uncles have colds so many havent been able to see the little man yet and are sad. Others have been around every chance they can get (such as the grandmas who haven’t gone a day without seeing him).

He did get jaundiced, as winter babies do get, so he has been on a bilibed and tanning. I call him my little guido and in all honesty our lives have been pretty GTL, Gym; wrestling the little man during diaper changes, Tan, bilibed, Laundry, he’s a newborn, we go through onesies, mittens and socks like mad. We’ve had to go in daily for labs since the day he was born, a Von Willenbrand panel, CBC’s, bilirubin testing. We’re kind of sick of the doctors, but understand it is for a good reason we need to go in.

He’s perfect and I am in love. If someone would’ve told me that the mommy club was this awesome, I would’ve joined sooner. Lack of sleep and sanity be damned. 


Fashion must be in my Blood

Maybe it is just because my Grandma is an artist- but she is so totally fashionable! I found some photos from the 60’s-80’s with my family in it, and discovered that her fashion sense has always been fabulous! I was lucky enough to get copies of the slides (my grandpa is also an amazing photographer) and wanted to share them with you!

This first photo struck me as funny- this is my sense of style as well! Sport jacket, jeans and fun socks! I absolutely love that grandpa was able to capture this on photo!

This photo just stuns me. Not only am I totally in love with her outfit (a white, lacy top and the pink and white chevron skirt!), but that shes on the floor cleaning up just makes me smile. Also, the fact that grandpa thought that was photo-worthy made me smile.

I love this sweater. This whole photo had to have been planned, the perfection of the sweater, the colors, the background, it is all so perfect! I also love that this is such a calm photo- no evidence of the chaos I know my mother and aunt were causing for her.

This has to be one of my favorite photos EVER. I love all of their outfits, but the facial expressions of everyone fits their personalities so well! (Suzanne is like me, happy to sit on the sidelines and watch everyone else be silly.) Again, grandma and I are sharing style, (jeans and a t-shirt!). My mom’s red hair? I’ve been considering going that exact color for a while now. I may just do it soon!

Farrah Faucet hair! That mixed with the cute knitted vest and blouse is adorable! LOVE IT.

I adore this photo of my mom and my Aunt. This is from the early 80’s, but is so totally adorable. (I probably love it so much because this is who I see whenever I look at them!) There is an entire photo series that grandpa took of these, and this one is my favorite because we all know they were cracking jokes and laughing at grandpa, who is behind the lens.

Now for a lack of fashion sense. This is a Christmas morning photo. Everyone looks so cute- however, look at my Uncle in the right hand corner. I’m pretty damn sure he borrowed that robe from Huge Hefner. He is the fashion black sheep in our family.

Is your family full of fashionistas? Have fun photos to share?
If you post them send me a link- I love looking at old photos and of fantastic fashion!

10 Weird Things About Me

I LOVE lists (and according to all the great articles out there on gaining readership, you do too)!  I am a VERY unique person and figured that it would be fun to do a list about the 10 best things that make me unique!

  1. Believe it or not, I can lick my elbow. I’m sure you’ve read that it is physically impossible, however, I have a torn shoulder and can dislocate my shoulder, making it totally possible to cross my arm over my chest and lick my elbow.
  2. I can play the piano, however I cannot read sheet music. I learned how to do it by ear, making it even more fun to play, but very frustrating for everyone who tried to teach me how to play.
  3. Once upon a time I was a Girl Pro (Cruiser) BMXr. People don’t believe me most of the time- but that’s how I broke my hand, my collarbone and managed to tear the muscles in both my shoulders, making it possible to lick my elbow.
  4. I am freakishly good at first person shooter video games. Girls shouldn’t be as good as I am at games like Halo and MW3. This does get the attention (and lots of fan mail) from guys when I play online, but I only enjoy playing with my husband, so the fans can only do so much.
  5. My two best friends are my husband and my little brother. Both of whom go by the nickname “Bubba.” They both can quote movies like no one I have ever met and can make me laugh til I cry.
  6. I am one of the only people who can admit when something I like sucks. For example, my sports teams. I can admit when they suck, even though I hate it.
  7. I HATE taking medications. This drives my doctors nuts because they will write me a prescription and I refuse to take it, but I just don’t like taking them and if I can live without it, won’t do it.
  8. As “normal” of a life as I live, I am fascinated and adore the New Age lifestyle. I find it all quite fascinating and do lots of research on it in my spare time. This ties into my belief that I am my zodiac- I even have the Aries tattooed my hip.
  9. I’ve broken over 7 bones in my body without knowing it. Don’t even get me started on listing the muscles I’ve torn without knowing it. We discover these breaks years later, after they’ve healed when checking another issue (or preventative for work, a doctor ran over my foot with a gurney and I had to get an X-ray or my foot and discovered that I had broken 4 bones in my foot without knowing it!)
  10. I feel most comfortable in a black tee and jeans. No matter what, I love that look and will always fall back on it.

Baby Update – Before the OB’s Office Visit

It’s been a crazy few days and I haven’t really wanted to post much (thankfully I have a lot of posts in queue so that if the mood doesn’t strike that you will have something to read!). There’s been a lot of worry, wonder, what-if’s and more.

Thursday we went into the OB’s office and got checked again. We found that everything was going well, if I was to deliver at 40 weeks. Since I have risks factors that make the doctor want to induce me earlier (she wants me to deliver between 37-38 weeks), things are going slower than she wants. She checked everything, labs, cervix, the whole nine yards and told us to come back on Monday. For the first time in weeks my BP was boarderline instead of being incredibly high.

She informed us that unless my water broke over the weekend (which she mentioned was a very good possibility), to come back on Monday for a re-evaluation and to hopefully determine a due date (FINALLY!).

Friday night I had had just about enough of bedrest and begged my husband to take me with him grocery shopping. We agreed that after 10 pm on a Friday night that Wal-Mart wouldn’t be busy and would be ideal for my now very slow pace. We made a list, found coupons and price matched our items and headed out. It was nice, almost no one was there shopping (teenagers galore, but they were just wandering, looking for things to do and buying junk food), and we were able to get our items with no problems.

Once we got to check out I started contracting. It happens when I’ve been up for too long and since it had been happening at work, was the reason that I was on bedrest this long. I didn’t think much of it and we got to the car and got me home. Bubba took care of carrying everything in and he ordered me to lay down ASAP, mainly because I was worrying him.

As the night progressed so did the contractions. I drank lots of fluids. Ate a banana and peanut butter. Laid on my side. Drank more fluids. Sat in a hot tub. Took Tylenol. Nothing helped. At 3 am I grabbed my computer to start googling when to go into the hospital. My contractions were 30 seconds long, and I couldn’t tell if they ever stopped, but they peaked every 2 minutes. I couldn’t find any definitive information on when to go in and I didn’t want to call the on-call OB. 4 am my computer overheated and crashed and I broke down, shaking, scared, worried. Bubba woke up to me swearing at it and came in and sat with me for a moment. All I could do was panic even more when he suggested I go in.

What did I do? Drank more water and gatoraide and took a Tylenol PM. I slept like a rock (til almost 1pm the next day! I never do that!). When I awoke I was feeling much better. Bubba woke me up at that point and made me eat something, and told me that I wouldn’t be going ANYWHERE anymore. As depressing as it was to be told that- I knew what he meant and why he said it. I agreed.

Saturday and Sunday I seemed to have fallen into the narcoleptic part of pregnancy. The part where I cannot sleep for the life of me, until I pass out. I figure my body is getting to the point where it is prepping for late nights and waking up for hour long feedings, but it is still a different change of pace for me and leaves me feeling weird at different points of the day. Saturday and Sunday were spent playing lots of video games with my husband, watching movies and all the various sports games on TV. Honestly, it was a fantastic weekend, and as Bubba puts it “our last kid-free weekend.”

That intimidates the hell out of me.

Today we go back into the OB after Bubba gets off work. He and I schedule all my appointments so that he can be there, so we have one of the last appointments of the day. I’ve been told by him to pack our hospital bag, just in case. We both think we will get sent home today and told to come back tomorrow for the induction, but he’s feeling quite cautious and doesn’t want us to have to make the trip back home unless we absolutely have to.

I’m not going to lie. I’m terrified. Scared to death. Worried. People keep telling me that it’ll be okay, that it will all come naturally. People tell me that it’s the same thing I did when I worked at a nursing home, except in smaller, cuter form. People tell me that they’ll be around to help me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m still intimidated by this little person.

I’ll post more when I can, but until then, keep safe. If you have any advice or words of wisdom, please post it below in the comments section! I need as much help as I can get!


What’s In my Bag?

What's In my Bag?
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